#he really hates himself and thinks he has no right to refuse anything

[alexanderlightweight]

Since I'm such a sucker for your universes in which Magnus "steals" Alec away from the Clave to make Alec his consort. Could I please have something where Alec is now shown off as treasured gift? Rubbing it in the Clave's face?

OR...in the same-ish vein...

All certain people know or remember of Alec is that he is a Magnus' consort, treasured, pampered - perhaps something further down the line about people forgetting just how deadly Alec is in his own right?

SFW/NSFW - though NSFW could be really interesting...

Please? Thank you! I appreciate all of your writing!

okay so I hope this goes along with the plot enough? it's kind of what I got when I tried to think of how to maybe tie the two together. so while it's not the Clave specifically, since it's tethers of fate (the last posted part is NSFW) it I think falls in the middle? Alec's still stolen? but you can send me a new prompt if it doesn't! I had quite a bit of fun with this idea and where to take it. I hope you enjoy <3

lumine

tethers of fate

*a sprinkle of cannibalism? for flavor?

Alexander’s chuckle is like the ripples of a deep pond, gentle and quiet and fading before disappearing as if never there.

His consorts face is hidden behind a veil of mithril and platinum chains with jade and pearl and opal beads. While Magnus would prefer Alexander wear a warlock mask or veil, his darling refuses, preferring the tiered antler crown from his father.  It wreathes his skull in deadly bone and velvet, willingly and purposefully shed by Arawn’s most fearsome mount.

The small bells, trinkets and chains have always intertwined the tips, but it is his place as Magnus’ consort that has added the veil of metals.  Alexander’s face is known to few in this realm and even fewer have truly seen it. 

It pleases Magnus, to have Alexander seated next to him, wreathed in power — though he would prefer it without Arawn’s flair.  Alas, as much as Alexander adores him, his lover will not further spurn his kin by going out unadorned by the masterpiece his family crafted him to wear.  

It is a declaration of their protection and regardless of if he needs that protection, it is a statement.  

Unfortunately, sometimes it means that the misunderstanding that Magnus and Arawn do not hate each other grows.  

Like now, with an unseelie trying to win favor from both Magnus and his boy.  

As if they are so easily won over. 

Especially because this fae has made a mistake.  No matter how long someone has been from court, they should know better than to play nice with Magnus.  They should especially know better than to address him first and with obeisance rather than directing that to Alexander and ignoring Magnus.

This fae has made a terrible error.  

For while Magnus simply will ignore them, Alexander will tell his father and ensure the traitor — because despite how Alexander feels about the cause, the fae is a traitor — is executed. 

Or execute them himself.

Magnus sighs and flicks his fingers, settling blue fire to wreathe and settle into the veil.  No matter how delicious Alexander is covered in blood, the veil is finicky about cleaning magic and he’d rather save himself the time and the trouble. 

While Alexander is happy to kneel at Magnus’ side or sit prettily, most forget that he is indeed a son of Arawn.  Most don’t even know that he is a stolen child and yet still make the mistake of thinking him nothing more than a pretty trinket.  

As if Arawn’s children — even the stolen ones — are anything but the most deadly of beings, while displaying themselves in the most beautiful and elegant and wild of ways.  

“Try not to make too much of a mess, darling.” He asks, not because he actually cares but because to his court it will be seen as clear permission. 

Alexander laughs, the court and even the fae entranced by the wildness of it.  The magic that Alexander’s voice holds echoes throughout his court and Magnus hates to share it, even though he knows it’s a hidden blade. 

“None who claim allegiance to my father are allowed to interact with Magnus Bane, regardless that I am his consort.  Magnus Bane is an anathema to any of Arawn’s courts. None who pay him homage or ask his aid are loyal.”

There’s a whisper of sadness in his voice that only Magnus can tell, yet still, he sometimes hates the position Alexander is in, even if he delights in being the one who put him there.

Alexander is on the fae with the next whisper of air, as if time stilled for a moment for him to move, yet the only sign that he’s moved is the gentle chime of his metal veil and the thud of a body as it falls.

Devoid of a heart.

Alexander sighs, long and loud as if exasperated rather than satisfied.

The court turns frenzied, though they stay away from Alexander, moving away from him rather than towards him.

They’ve forgotten that the shiny trinket by Magnus’ side is as sharp and deadly as the crown he wears and more worthy than the priceless metal and gems adorning him.

“What am I supposed to do with another heart?” Alexander mutters under his breath, yet by the way several beings react, they hear and fear. “I’m not hungry.”  A shudder passes through another few and then Alexander is finally back to his side with a sigh. Magnus’ eyes are the only ones that can penetrate the magic woven into the veil. Not even Arawn’s sight can pierce the magical shield protecting Alexander’s visage from the world, not when he wears the veil.  

It means the rest of the world will never see how truly bewildered Alexander is, or how annoyed he is. Alexander tends to react on instinct and while he’d probably intended to simply snap the man’s neck, Alexander has been rather stressed lately.  It’s understandable that he leaned into something that would be stress-relief rather than his more logical thoughts. 

It’s why Magnus used magick.  

He knows his boy after all.

“Do you want it?” Alexander finally asks, offering it to him despite the fact that the very offense the heart’s owner made was being cordial with Magnus. It’s cruel, in a way.  To not only further disgrace the fae, but also it’s a way to annoy Arawn.  Whether Alexander means it that way or not.  Truthfully, Magnus wouldn’t be surprised if Alexander simply doesn’t want to deal with it.  

Already his darling has other plots, such as Magnus’ cleaning Alexander’s calloused fingers with his mouth, probably. 

Magnus takes the gift, not as a potion ingredient as Alexander probably intended, but as a treat to be consumed.  Magnus bites into the warm organ and lets rich and supposedly tainted angelic blood dance over his tongue.

Alexander’s eyes darken with lust and jealousy, the two emotions fighting as he watches Magnus with longing, as if upset it’s not his own heart being devoured.

AN: 

People seeing alec and being like ‘wow a really shiny tree, beautiful craftsmanship’. So pretty.

Magnus: yes, it’s specifically a warning to everyone. About how deadly he is.

Everyone else: he’s so shiny and shy and quiet and well-behaved.

Magnus: ... shy? well-behaved? My Alexander? He’s just bored and not even paying attention to anything and thinks talking to my court is beneath him as a son of Arawn!!!!! He’s a snob! he's only here because of me!

Alec: people think they’re allowed to think about me? And have perceptions? About me? I’m not here to be perceived, i'm here to admire Magnus.

Also Alec: — okay so i feel better about the last three weeks... but my hand is now a mess and i don’t have any elk or little siblings to feed this heart to and i’m full and i shouldn’t just throw it. That’s fine in the forest, not in the club. My lover it is!

Magnus: this is a little cruel, even for you but i love you all the more for it

Alec: *very intently ignoring all the political and other implications because those aren’t his priorities*

Alec: — I thought you would throw it in a jar or a cauldron. Why are you kissing someone else's heart? Why are you sinking your teeth into flesh that isn’t mine???? Excuse you i’m right here and very biteable? 

Magnus: *very pleased with his life choices right now, a jealous Alexander is a very aggressive Alexander*

Magnus at one point having to explain to Alexander that ‘darling you cannot just litter body parts all over the place. At least tell me so i can take care of it. This isn’t the forest, the floors dont eat things like that here’.

Alec hates concrete and asphalt and they have a giant pocket dimension on their roof that’s basically a large park sized space. Magnus has to deal with so many plants in his house but he also gets to pull out all his bone and insect and taxidermy collections. Alec’s sense of style is a bite macabre. 

[katetcake]

I was having JazzWave thoughts and they quickly got out of hand.

JazzWave in that they're forced to work together towards a common goal. And it's the prettiest thing imaginable. JazzWave in that Soundwave's a jealous best friend and Jazz is a paranoid mofo and both of them are trying to sabotage talks between Optimus and Megatron.

AKA: They decide to "work together" as an excuse to keep an eye on each other and each other's faction to make sure there's nothing fishy going on.

B/c neither of them believe the other side is being sincere. And b/c neither of them see the obvious flirting as flirting, instead see it as some manipulation tactic the other is using (aka the jealous friend dynamic between Soundwave and Megatron. Jazz constantly doing the dirty work so he thinks OP can't see the 'blatantly dirty tactics' being used on him).

Jazz who is horrified to see Prowl going along w/ it b/c quote "Starscream is actually quite intelligent under all the screeching and narcissism. It just seems logical to start building good relations w/ him now instead of waiting until later."

Ofc Jazz is devastated. How could Prowl do this to him. Starscream of all people! And maybe he complains abt it to Soundwave who's like 'hold up, what exactly did he say?' And drops the bombshell of "you should be more worried about Shockwave." Jazz obviously thinks he's crazy, but he gives in and asks Prowl abt Shockwave. And he feels so fucking betrayed when Prowl gets all embarrassed. Like all fluttery wings and shy smile b/c "Shockwave? Shockwave?! Are you serious, Prowl?!" And Prowl just doesn't understand what the big deal is, "I mean, you've been dating Soundwave since Peace Talks ™ practically began."

So now Jazz is paying a little more attention to what's going on around him. The Autobots do seem to be more confident about talking to Decepticons when he's around. Jazz hasn't talked about what he's doing w/ Soundwave for operational security reasons, and he knows how much actions speak louder than words. And okay maybe once he took care of watching both sets of twins b/c Ravage was sick and Soundwave had to take him to a medic, but that doesn't mean anything! He just needs to gain the enemy's trust to gain access to more information! That's like Spec Ops 101.

On the other side, Soundwave is constantly hearing gossip about himself and Jazz. Some people even voicing their jealousy that Soundwave managed to snatch Jazz up before any of them even had a chance. And b/c he knows words spoken in private are often the only truthful ones, he refuses to answer any questions whenever someone asks him how things w/ Jazz are going, or if he has tips on how to woo an Autobot.

They both get really paranoid about their own words/actions whenever they're together now. They're constantly second guessing themselves and tension just keeps getting worse until they're having an argument about it. Jazz is upset b/c Soundwave's acting weird all of the sudden. He doesn't play music anymore and barely talks whenever they're together (like less than usual). Whenever he does talk, it's strictly about their work. Soundwave also accused Jazz of being weird too, he hardly plays with the cassettes anymore. He doesn't lounge around like he usually does whenever they're not working on their plan.

All in all, their argument ends on an awkward note as neither of them win. Soundwave doesn't want to talk (words in private are the truth). Jazz refuses to be responsive or take things seriously (actions speak louder than words).

Everyone thinks they broke up. Everyone is treating it like a break up. Big meetings are just a touch more tense. Starscream is always making comments about it.

Blaster starts hitting on Soundwave like right after. Jazz is immediately offended cuz like dude! They were never dating, but if they were it's rude for Blaster to immediately hit up his friend's new ex. Like come on! In Blaster's defense, he always thought Soundwave was hot, even if he hated that Soundwave made his cassettes fight in the war (he doesn't make them, he lets them choose). And somehow Jazz ends up more offended cuz that's such a low bar. Like Blaster could at least like Soundwave cuz “He's got a wicked sense of humor. He's really damn smart. He's got great taste in music! He's– you get my point! If you just want a pretty frame, there's plenty of other mechs!"

Starscream, taking any opportunity presented to him, starts immediately bullying Soundwave. Starts talking about how surprised he was that someone like Jazz would even bother with Soundwave. But considering how quickly Jazz dropped him, clearly he was just interested in figuring out how he worked. Soundwave would never confirm he and Jazz were together while Jazz was adamant they weren't together. Was Soundwave ashamed to be dating an Autobot? No that's preposterous. Everyone knows Soundwave's the actual one without emotions. Clearly it was Jazz who was ashamed to be dating Soundwave, however briefly it was.

All in all, everyone thinks they're having a messy breakup. Which is insane because both of them are clearly not over each other. Jazz is quick to anger and quicker to vanish whenever questioned. Soundwave and Starscream get into physical fights whenever the seeker starts pushing buttons.

Megatron and Optimus start having more private meetings. Sometimes they'll even abruptly change meeting times so that neither Soundwave or Jazz will be present. Overall acting extra suspicious.

Despite whatever mess is going on between them, they can work together for their initial goal. And whatever these extra, super secret, meetings are, there's more of a risk of Optimus or Megatron using it's secrecy to attack the other.

Except when they finally find out about one of these 'private meetings' in time to spy on it, they're not prepared. Over half of it is just Megatron lamenting that Soundwave doesn't talk to him like he used to. That the war has gone on so long and has changed them all so much that Soundwave no longer trusts Megatron enough to tell him he was dating Jazz. Megatron didn't believe it at first because Soundwave never told him, but now he's not so sure b/c Soundwave's been more depressed than usual.

Even Optimus expresses his own regrets. Cuz while he and Jazz don't have the same history that Megatron and Soundwave do, Jazz has always gone out of his way to treat Optimus like another person and not an infallible leader. They were friends and he hates to have failed his friend so entirely like this.

Jazz and Soundwave are left with the realization that there was no ulterior motive from either side during the Peace Talk™ negotiations. Soundwave thinks back to all the times Megatron commended Optimus. All the times he praised the mech's intelligence. The times he outright waxed poetic about Optimus to Soundwave. And Soundwave realizes that somewhere along the line he stopped listening. Jazz sees all of Optimus' actions in a whole new light now. Every time he thought Optimus had been annoyed into silence, he realizes that Optimus was flustered. That Optimus was taking better care of his appearance to show off to Megatron. Jazz realized that despite being head of spec ops for his observational prowess, he was completely blinded by his inherent mistrust of other.

And now Jazz and Soundwave are left with the very uncomfortable truth that they almost ruined everyone's future for petty reasons. That they almost sabotaged the very real prospect of Peace. And all they have left is to have a long overdue awkward Talk.

And Soundwave has to admit the reason he and Starscream keep fighting is b/c Starscream keeps saying he might try courting Jazz just to see what all the hype is about and Soundwave was jealous. That the reason he never said anything when people questioned him was b/c to play along would be to lie and he doesn't like lying, but he also didn't want to admit it wasn't real.

Jazz is absolutely floored. But now that he thinks about it, the signs were all there. Not just from Soundwave either. Jazz liked listening to Soundwave's playlists. He enjoyed Soundwave's dry humor. He liked spending time with the twins. He liked idly cleaning and straightening out the plates on Laserbeak and Buzzsaw's wings. Jazz even got cosmetic work to redistribute his weight to more effectively hold and catch the cassettes whenever they wanted to be held. Though at the time he kept telling himself it would be useful for whenever the war started back up.

They try to give dating a genuine shot and both of them end up dying of embarrassment b/c almost nothing changed and they're both absolute idiots. Though they're loving the perks of actually dating.

Soundwave loves the fact that he gets to touch now. He loves holding Jazz' hand. He loves sitting on the couch or the floor with Jazz pressed to his side or sitting on his lap. He loves that Jazz' tactile nature doesn't disappear when they're in public. He loves being able to kiss Jazz.

Jazz loves listening to Soundwave talk about his day. He loves making Soundwave laugh, how his frame starts shaking before the laughter bubbles up quietly. He loves that Soundwave doesn't mind his tactile nature. He loves going out with Soundwave and the cassettes and doing inane group activities together. Jazz absolutely loves being able to kiss Soundwave now too.

No one believes them when they say they only started dating recently. It's not until they admit to working together to keep an eye on the other side in case of danger/sabotage during Peace Talks™. And that's when their friends/colleagues actually start believing that they weren't actually dating before.

Idk I just want an absurd and hilarious JazzWave comedy. They're smart and capable at their jobs. Unfortunately they're also dumbasses.

[tales-of-chivalry]

I wanna post so bad about like. My Mordred because I saw a post that's like "reblog this and tell me about your mordred interpretation" but like mine feels so Out There since he was made before I really got into Arthuriana and it feels like there are barely any writings that share my view of Mordred but. He's also so important to me and I don't want to change him....

[chimerafeathers]

i really love how intensely Mirabelle reacts to act 5 Siffrin botched friendquest.

Isabeau is mostly operating out of concern and, eventually, hurt. he already knows something’s up before Siffrin gets to him. he knows something truly awful must be wrong for Siffrin to be lashing out like they are, and as soon as he can’t handle the situation anymore, he leaves and asks (with strained cheer) for time apart to cool off.

most of Bonnie’s anger comes from being upset and afraid that Siffrin would willingly put themself in danger for no reason, when that’s exactly why they’ve been so unsettled since the eye incident. they hate that Siffrin values their own life so little, they hate that they’re the cause of any pain or loss for him, and here he is, putting himself in that situation AGAIN. on purpose. it’s loud and explosive, but it’s familiar, too, being ���hated” by Bonnie for this reason.

Odile pushes, and keeps pushing, until her concern overwhelms Siffrin and they strike where they know she’s most vulnerable. she gets physical, just for a moment, grabbing his collar before controlling herself and letting go. her fury shuts down into cold detachment, and she walks away.

but Mirabelle—dear, sweet, gentle, loving Mirabelle, “the most wonderful being on earth,” with her secret “ruthless side” that largely involves lightly badmouthing people behind their backs and then apologizing—slaps them. immediately.

and then COMPLETELY RENOUNCES THEIR FRIENDSHIP.

not just “we’re not friends anymore,” but “we were never friends in the first place.”

that’s!!! pretty extreme!!!!

of course, she ALSO starts by asking what’s wrong. something must have happened for him to act like this. but as soon as Siffrin brushes her off, she jumps past that line of questioning and dives headfirst into re-evaluating everything she thought she knew about them as a a person.

if he could say something like that to her and not see anything wrong with it, then she was wrong to treat him as a friend, wrong to read camaraderie into his teasing, wrong to think they must care about them all under their aloof demeanor.

that’s how Mirabelle phrases it—“I was wrong about you”—but i think that there’s a hidden layer of I was right about you, too.

she talks about the way they tease her like she had to convince herself that he was doing it in a friendly way. she says they talk like they “know better than her” like that’s a thought she’s had for a LONG time.

“Always soooo mysterious, Siffrin, always talking as if you're better than me! As if you know me!!! But you don't, Siffrin!!! You're just as lost and useless as I am!!! So stop!!! Talking!!! As if you know me!!!!!!”

none of this comes across as a new, sudden way to view Siffrin for her. it doesn’t shock or confuse her. it makes her angry, defensive, almost like she was waiting for something like this to happen at some point. the feeling of resentment, frustration, jealousy, being patronized and condescended to—this is something she’s been actively pushing down and rejecting this entire time, but they’ve given her ample reason for it all to boil to the surface. violently.

Mirabelle’s kindness is not inherent or easy. it’s a choice she’s making. she treats Siffrin warmly because she gives him the benefit of the doubt—refusing to act based on anxiety-fueled, cynical speculation, and reassuring herself that his actions are driven by care and friendship even if she can’t quite see it.

“I was wrong about you” doesn’t mean she always and without question believed them to be a fundamentally kind, caring person from the beginning—it’s that her first, colder instincts were right, and she was wrong to convince herself otherwise.

never mind that she asked what was wrong at first. she barely gives them time to speak in their own defense, to explain what they really meant by what they said. all of her suppressed doubts and frustrations are getting aired out now, now that all the trust she’d so deliberately placed in him has been betrayed. her pain feels bigger than this singular moment, so when she hurts him back, she makes sure it extends back through the entirety of their relationship for him, too.

“You're awful. You're not my friend, not my ally, not anything. You never were.”

like the others, she goes back to the clocktower and tells Siffrin not to come back until later. but there’s a finality to the way she ends this confrontation that isn’t quite there with the others. Isabeau and Odile reach their breaking point and remove themselves from the situation, asking for space to cool off but still somewhat leaving the door open for Siffrin to tell them what’s really going on at some point. Mirabelle is the only one who tries to fully cut ties—after everything else she says, her “I don’t want to see you until tonight” reads to me somewhat as “I don’t want to see you anymore unless I have to.”

I can’t wait to never see you again.

even back at the clocktower, Mirabelle doesn’t really defend Siffrin’s place in the party when Odile suggests leaving them behind out of concern for their trustworthiness on the most important day of the journey. Isabeau and Bonnie protest out of sentimentality and faith in Siffrin’s abilities and connection to them, and Mirabelle agrees, but…

“I agree, but... B-But would he even agree to come with us, still? Maybe they won't even come back tonight...”

she doesn’t say much outside of that. maybe the stutter and hesitation here are signs of regret about how things happened, but she lacks Isabeau and Bonnie’s confidence that Siffrin even wants to come back to them in the first place. she doesn’t trust that their bond was real anymore. maybe it never was in the first place, or maybe she broke whatever was there herself.

and she’s still mad when they finally catch up to Siffrin at the King! and she makes sure Siffrin knows that—after saving them, assuring him that he no longer needs to fight, that they’re all there for him. she still cares, of course she still cares—she’s still hurt, too, but they can figure that part out once there’s less world-ending stuff going on.

she’s the first to say that they all reserve the right to still be angry at Siffrin later—and that they’ve already forgiven him.

she’s also the first to say we want to stay with you, too. it’s not just you.

she was wrong! she thought they didn’t care but they care so much, it’s overwhelming, it’s world-ending.

i think she’s gonna be wallowing in guilt post-canon the moment she remembers what she said and did TO SIFFRIN and not just what Siffrin said to her. especially now that she knows Siffrin’s exact hangups, and especially especially if she figures out what Siffrin was trying to say.

they put themself through hell out of loneliness and fear that none of the others cared about him the way he cared about them, he was going insane from repetition and exhaustion and hunger and trying to keep them all safe and together, and all they did in the midst of all that was say something kind of mean to her one time (that turned out to not even be MEANT to be mean it was supposed to be HELPFUL they just SAID IT ALL WRONG) and she SLAPPED THEM? and told him that they WEREN’T FRIENDS AT ALL??? how could she!!! she should have known better!! what they said hurt a lot but still!!!

so when they eventually manage to try to talk about it, they end up almost in, like, a guilt competition.

Mirabelle apologizing for how she reacted, that she shouldn’t have yelled or hit him, that she doesn’t want to be the kind of person who acts that way out of anger and she’s sorry that she made Siffrin expect that reaction from her, she should have known better and believed in him more and they only messed up like that because they were losing their mind in a time loop but what’s HER excuse—

and Siffrin going nononono stop I deserved it—(HUH DON’T SAY THAT NO YOU DIDN’T)—and that he should never have said such awful things to her, ever, and she was under so much pressure already with the weight of the country and everyone’s lives and futures and her religion and their whole party counting on her to do this impossible task because she’s the only one who can, all this unbearable expectation and hope crushing her, and they KNEW that but they thought they could skip to the ending as though her feelings didn’t matter at all, like helping her wasn’t as important as saving a little time—

until they’re just. in tears together, apologizing for all the horrible things they did in between complimenting each other’s strength and kindness and resilience and how much they admire each other and saying that no, everything you did was completely understandable, actually, the only one who sucks here is me. which neither of them will accept coming from the other!!

they’re so similar, in ways they couldn’t really understand, before.

warm, affectionate, perfect Mirabelle, the resolute hero, a beacon of compassion and hope for all those around her, who wears her heart on her sleeve, her fear making her courage shine all the brighter—nothing like the insignificant, forgettable Siffrin, too terrified to be known, too fragile to touch, too selfish and disgusting to bear letting go.

cool, mysterious, unflappable Siffrin, the worldly traveler, as charming and silly as they are confident and skilled, who brushed off losing an eye like it was nothing, accepting the risks of this journey with barely more than a shrug—nothing like the anxious, stagnant, undeserving Mirabelle, a fraud and a nobody crumbling under the weight of a mission too important to be entrusted to someone like her, doubting herself, doubting her friends, doubting her mentor, doubting her faith, too weak and brittle to bend and change the way the world needs her to without breaking.

not worth bothering others with their problems. they should be able to handle this alone. stay positive, stay calm. breathe in, and out.

they’ll struggle with it, still—the hiding, the minimizing—but now, they understand each other a little better. they can hold each other accountable for what they leave unsaid.

it’ll get easier, eventually. they have plenty of time.

[satoruan]

How their kid breaks their heart  — Jujutsu Kaisean

( cw ) f!reader, fluff, domestic, kinda hurt/comfort but not really hehe just butt hurt husbands, breastfeeding  

featuring. Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo, Nanami Kento 

authors note. I haven’t written anything in so long I think I forgot how to. Anyway, I love dilfs ❤️ JJK dilfs are my favorite thing ever.

CHOSO KAMO 

Choso’s infant has been screaming for what felt like hours, he has a clean diaper, there aren’t any tags on his clothes that may be bothering him, he’s swaddled tightly, and he refuses to drink the lukewarm bottle Choso made him so that must mean he’s not hungry, right? Choso just wanted to be able to do this himself, take care of his baby, and not depend on you so much but when you step into your bedroom after returning home, he almost starts crying too. “I-I can’t-” He stutters, eyes wide as you make your way into your shade bed. “Hey, hey it’s okay baby.” You whisper as your hand moves to cup the side of his face. You lift his head and kiss him a few times before reaching for your baby. He continues to scream before you give him your breast. He settles down almost instantly. “He hates me.” Choso almost whimpers as he lays his head on your shoulder, the both of you looking down at the little boy. “No, he doesn’t, I promise you he doesn’t.” You say, reaching down to kiss his forehead. “I tried to feed him and he just turned his head and screamed, it felt like he was cursing me.” He grumbles, rubbing at the baby’s swaddled feet. “That’s because he it’s used to the bottle, he’d rather have a boob, rather suck the nipple than the bottle tip.” You explain to your husband. “Well, at least he takes at me in that regard.” “You’re disgusting.” 

GOJO SATORU 

“Daddy look, it’s Uncle ‘Guru!” Your daughter squeals as she grabs a photo from the pile on the floor between your little family. You guys were supposed to be making a scrapbook but Satoru and your daughter weren’t much of a help. “Yes, that is Suguru baby! That’s from when we were back in high school and look mommy’s there too” Satoru smiles at the photo. “Were you and Mommy married?” She asks with a smile on her face. “No, not yet—“ “I’m gonna marry Uncle ‘Guru!” She exclaims, looking at her father with a huge smile on her face as the thought infiltrates her mind. Satoru feels his heart sink into his stomach. This can’t be happening. “He’ll be the bestest husband in the whole world Daddy!” “What about me baby? Wouldn’t you rather marry someone like Daddy?”  He whines trying to take this picture out of her hands. “Nope! I wanna marry Uncle ‘Guru! You’re too stinky.” She side-eyes him before going to sit next to you, picture still in hand. Satoru just stares at her, mouth slightly agape as she smiles down at the old picture. You lean over the scrapbook and pat your husband’s knee. “Well, ‘Toru that’s another one of our daughters that would rather marry Suguru. Better luck next time.”   

NANAMI KENTO 

“Come to Daddy!” “No come to mommy!” You playfully shove at Nanami’s shoulder. Your baby stares at you two from a few feet away with curiosity. You guys were doing that trend that was circling social media, set your baby across the room and see who they crawl to. “Daddy lets you eat some of his solid foods, come to me, sweetheart.” Nanami pats the floor, motioning for your baby to come his way. Your baby starts to crawl slowly, looking at both of you, questioning who he wants to crawl to. “Mommy has an endless supply of food on her right now, Daddy doesn’t have any on him! Come to Mommy!” You tap at the hardwood floors. Your baby seems to make up his mind then and rushes to you. Nanami frowns as you jump up and celebrate. He was certain you he would crawl to him. “Ha! I win you lose! Mommy’s the best!” You laugh and soon enough your son starts to laugh too and even though Nanami is a little hurt he can’t help but smile and join his little family’s celebration. 

[acrux-rising]

sick and tired (but never of you)

ʚ♡ɞ synopsis how the aot men take care of you when you're sick ʚ♡ɞ wc 663 ʚ♡ɞ feat. e. jaeger, l. ackerman a. arlert, j. kirstein, r. braun, p. galliard

ʚ♡ɞ eren jaeger エレン・イェーガー

tries so hard to take care of you, he really does. but one thing’s for sure - he can’t cook for shit and has absolutely no idea how to take care of another human being (since he rarely gets sick himself)

googles your symptoms, inadvertently stressing you out

“you coughed, like, three times in a row… i think you might have pneumonia”

makes sure you hydrate well, and is literally at your beck and call the whole time, tending to your every need to make sure you get well as soon as possible 

he hates seeing you in pain, after all

ʚ♡ɞ levi ackerman リヴァイ・アッカーマン

honestly? the best possible caretaker you could ask for

first thing he does is put on a mask and disinfect every surface you might have come into contact with. (if he owned a hazmat suit, he would wear it.)

makes you herbal teas or warm broth and gives you your meds regularly on the dot like a strict nurse

he’s not one to express his love for you verbally, but you’ll wake up to your favourite book on the nightstand, or your favourite meal on the dining table as you stumble out of your bedroom in a daze, still wrapped in your warm blanket

"better not complain about how you can't taste anything. would you rather have hypertension?"

ʚ♡ɞ jean kirstein ジャン・キルシュタイン

complains a lot in the beginning (“i told you it was going to be cold out, and you still insisted you didn’t need a jacket! when are you going to learn?”) of course he says this while tucking you in and tenderly brushing your hair out of your face

actually enjoys taking care of you and spoils you rotten - hot, comforting meals, massages, and your favourite movies that he normally refuses to watch, but he’ll make an exception this time

tries to be cool about it but his heart melts when you smile up at him and say thank you in that hoarse but still sweet voice of yours (what a big softie…)

"it's insane how pretty you look even when you're sick"

ʚ♡ɞ armin arlert アルミン・アルレルト

is an absolute administrative machine. he wakes up at the crack of dawn to switch off all your morning alarms, and calls in sick on your behalf.

when you wake up (around noon), he’s sitting by your bedside reading a book, whispering a gentle “good morning” to you

not the best at cooking, but he makes you soup and frankly, the love he put into it is more than enough to make you feel better instantly

takes your temperature when you’re asleep, making sure not to wake you

“right now, you need rest. don’t worry, love, i’ve got everything covered.”

ʚ♡ɞ reiner braun ライナー・ブラウン

this man runs hot all the time, so you know his cuddles are the absolute best. you wake up to a pair of strong arms around you, enveloping you in a comforting warmth

carries you everywhere without question (putting his muscles to good use)

moves all his work to your room, not letting you out of his sight for even a second - that’s how precious you are to him

gives death stares to the neighbours’ kids when they make too much noise playing in the yard

“you’ll get sick too if you stay here like this!”   “don’ care… jus’ wanna be here with you”

ʚ♡ɞ porco galliard ポルコ・ガリアード

panics when you cough too hard, though he tries to hide it. he sits at the foot of your bed scrolling on his phone while glancing at you every 30 seconds

grumbles about you getting germs on him but dutifully stays by your side the whole time anyway

calls pieck for some much-needed advice (like eren, he does not know how to take care of a whole other person)

if you say thank you or show appreciation in any way or form, he gets all flustered immediately 

“yeah, yeah, just don’t die or whatever.”

-> to aot masterlist -> to main masterlist

© acrux-rising

[heartyluv]

you characterize zayne SO well omg…. So you know how he doesn’t really engage in PDA because he knows he would get too into it and lose control? If you’re comfortable, might I request zayne who sees someone getting a little too friendly with you at an event or party, so he lets himself indulge in PDA just for a moment? and then he gets carried away 🫠🫠 I just love possessive zayne

Note: I sooo needed to get around to writing another possessive/jealous Zayne. Yk, I actually think people severelyyyy underestimate his freak LOLL. Anyways, this is one of the best compliments ever, so thank you so, so much, luvly. I hope I’ve done him justice in your eyes!

Creds to @/khaer, @/strangergraphics, & @/anitalenia for the dividers!

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut

Possessive!Zayne/Reader

Zayne was far from a stupid man. He knew what he signed up for when he made someone as beautiful as you his girlfriend. It’s why he has never tried to make you change. On the contrary, he is now a man who ensures that everyone knows who you belong with his presence alone. But, he has also become a man who doesn’t know how to receive a touch—whether it be on purpose or not—from you without wanting to fuck your brains out.

It’s the reason that PDA isn’t something he’s too keen on unless it’s a simple matter of holding your hand. But all of that will is being tested the longer he remains by your side for a party your office was throwing for one of your coworkers for his promotion.

When you asked your boyfriend if he didn’t mind accompanying you since he had a rare night off from the hospital, he didn’t hesitate to come along. In fact, Zayne appreciated businesses who celebrated their employees for things like this. He knew first hand how good it felt to be celebrated for his hard work, no matter how nonchalant he tried to be about it. No one would ever underestimate the feeling of being appreciated.

But when he found out that the person being promoted was the same man who has had a crush on you before you and Zayne even started dating, admittedly, Zayne couldn’t give a damn about how hard he worked. Your boyfriend has never been a grudge-holding or an over-the-top-jealous man, but right now? It was a different story when Dalton was around you.

You knew Dalton liked you after your first few months at the company, but you never acknowledged it and he never pursued anything, so nothing ever came from it. You weren’t naive. You knew about his feelings when he’d buy you coffee and no one else, when he’d offer to buy you lunch everyday, and when he would offer to complete paperwork that was meant for you. You knew his feelings were deep because who volunteers to do someone else’s paperwork? But you were thankful to whatever made him keep his mouth closed because the feeling wasn’t mutual and you hated having to turn anyone down.

Dalton—surprisingly—wasn’t weird, nor was he pushy. In fact, it was like he left the ball in your court, just waiting until you picked it up and passed it to him. It was collecting dust before Zayne told you how he felt, and now it was matted with it when you became a couple. Even if Dalton wasn’t too forward, the hints were still there and now that Zayne was seeing it with his own eyes, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

It started when you walked in and you greeted everyone while introducing Zayne. Dalton came up and Zayne watched how he shook everyone’s hand, but he hugged you. When you introduced him, Dalton grimaced like someone hit him in the gut, and that was a victory for your boyfriend whose arm refused to unravel from your waist. Funnily enough, what really ticked Zayne off? Dalton acting like he knew you.

He said a lot of the catered food was your favorite—it wasn’t. The music selection was inspired by your taste—you didn’t listen to any of the songs that played. And he wore a navy blue suit because it was your favorite color—not only was blue far from your favorite, navy would be at the bottom of the list of your preferred hues.

The fabric of your dress was being balled up in his fist the longer he held onto you. It was only an hour into this and if Zayne saw Dalton approach you one more time for something he could ask anyone else about, he’d show him how skilled of a surgeon he really was after he made it to where he needed one.

“Zayne, baby?” you asked with concern as you felt his grip tighten. The first time you asked him if he was okay, he assured you there wasn’t anything to worry your pretty little mind about. But you knew him and the with combination of his hands on your waist, your ass, and his lips on your neck, you knew something was up because he didn’t do that.

It never crossed your mind that Zayne was jealous because he wasn’t the man to show it. In your two years together, the most jealousy he’s ever shown was toward his shirt for getting to be on you more than he does—and even then, he was joking.

You turned to look at him fully, the gentle jazz music playing as everyone conversed with one another.

“Look at me,” you said softly. Zayne pulled his annoyed gaze from Dalton who only just left to finally talk with someone else, and it was record breaking how quickly it softened when those beautiful eyes found yours. He rested his hands on your waist, loving how you felt in them. But the moment was quickly crushed when Zayne heard footsteps, looking away from you to see Dalton was already making his way in your direction again.

“I can’t find my phone,” Zayne said abruptly. He needed you to himself and he needed you now. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You just now noticed?”

He nodded, ignoring the weight of it in his pocket. “Is it alright if we check your office? I may have left it in your bag.”

Before you guys came into the very large conference room where everyone mainly remained, you and Zayne stopped in your office to drop your purse off so you wouldn’t lose it.

“Of course we can check, c’mon.” Zayne couldn’t help but watch how the fabric of your knee length ivory white dress did nothing to hide the generous curve and bounce of your ass when you began to walk.

But after you took his hand, you almost bumped into Dalton a few steps into your attempt to exit.

“Everything okay?” Dalton looked between you and Zayne. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving before dessert. We’ll be cutting the cake in about fifteen minutes.”

Zayne almost smacked the shit out of him.

“We’re good, Zayne just needs to see if his phone is in my office. We’ll be back,” you answer with a gentle smile.

The moment you stepped into the small room that smelled exactly like you, you went to your bag to look. But as you searched, you heard the door shut and the lock click.

With your purse in hand, you looked up at Zayne who was heading to you so fast that you couldn’t catch it before it fell to the floor when he slammed his lips onto yours.

Impatient and desperate, his hand had a firm grip on the back of your neck as his tongue licked your plush lips and into your mouth.

“I’ve never been someone to lose control,” he mumbles as he starts to trail kisses down your neck. “But I’ve seemed to learn a lot of things about myself since you’ve come into my life. And I’m still debating if they are things I should thank you for.”

You’re glad that it’s dark back here and that you closed your blinds before the day ended earlier today or else everyone would be seeing your man press your bodies so close together that you could feel the bulge forming in his slacks.

“Zayne,” you whine when his tongue leaves a wet trail down the side of your neck. “What are you talking about?”

He releases a breathy chuckle, continuing to pepper your skin with wet smooches.

“If I had to see Dalton say another word to you, my actions proceeding would have costed you your job.” Your hands grip his hair as he continues to nip at your flesh. “And I would be lying if I said that the desire to act on them isn’t still there.”

“Dalton is flirty, but harmless, babe. He knows that I’m—”

“Bend over the desk,” he cuts you off. The light from the moon shining through your floor to ceiling glass windows is all you have to see him, but it’s the only light you need to recognize the desire within him.

He watches how good you obey his command, listened to how your small heels thud against the carpeted floor as you arched your back when your chest lays against the cool wood.

“The fact that you excuse any of it leads me to believe that you enjoy making me feel like this, don’t you?” His large hand palms a hand full of your ass through your dress. “You like when I’m driven to touch you in public. Because you know somehow, someway, you’re going to be stuffed with my cock in only a matter of time.”

You shudder at his words, your pussy throbbing in your panties. “That’s not true,” you whisper. “I wasn’t trying—”

You gasp when you feel him flip your dress up, kick your feet apart to make space for him, and pull your panties to the side. The sound of his belt buckle echoing in the small space has you wishing you were stuffed already.

Behind you, Zayne pulls his half erect cock out of his pants, stroking himself as he watches your pussy lips quiver for him. He steps forward, running his tip between your slit, making you whimper.

“Keep talking,” he commands, never stopping his teasing. “I want to hear how far your lies are willing to go.”

You twitch every time the tip of his cock nudges ever so slightly against your aching clit. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel anything, I promise…You know you’re the only one for me.”

“Am I?” he coos, watching how his fat head catches your hole but never fully entering. “I suppose the feeling is shared amongst the both of us, my love. Why else would I be getting ready to fuck you stupid in your office with all your coworkers only a handful of steps away?”

“Please put it in, Zayne,” you cry. “I want your cock so bad…”

“I know you do.” He doesn’t say anything else, burying himself in your tight cunt as you scream, but you quickly cover your mouth as your walls flutter around him.

With his hands on your hips, he pounds vigorously into you and watches how his cock is covered with your slick, feels how easily your walls accommodate him. You grab at the edge of the desk, keeping your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from moaning his name.

“Every time you talk to him, I want you to remember whose cock you cry for,” he pants, bunching your dress in his fist to keep it out of his way. “I want you to feel how my cum sits in your panties and runs down your leg.”

“Yes,” you mewl lowly, your brain foggy with pleasure.

“I intend to make sure everyone, but especially him, knows what I did to you when we go back. And you’re so good that you’ll let me, won’t you?”

You nearly drool as he tip kisses a part in you so deep that you never knew was reachable until him. “Yes, yes, yes…”

“My pretty girl…” His black hair falls into his eyes, but the strands doesn’t obstruct his view enough to miss how well you take him. “Oh, you feel so good, so tight…” he praises, his pace quickening as the slapping of skin grows louder as his efforts double. “Cum with me so we can have some cake, hm? You deserve a sweet treat for letting me fuck you with everyone only an earshot away.”

You don’t need to be told again. His snug movement in your warm walls along with the forbidden act of being fucked in the same office people will be walking in and out of tomorrow, makes you clench even tighter around his thick cock. As you meet him thrust for thrust and his grip on your hips grows stronger, you finally fall over the edge and fall apart beneath him.

“Fuck, baby…That’s it, let me feel you,” Zayne says breathlessly as you feel his cock expand and pulse inside you while his cum floods your pussy. He leans down to help pull you up, still seated in you to the brim, and turns your head as his hand wraps around your jaw so that he can kiss you.

“If you keep squeezing me, we’re leaving,” he smiles against your lips.

Lazily you grin, your chest rising and falling in an effort to bring breath back into your used body. He lets you rest against the desk again, grabbing some tissue that you have and catches his cum in it before it can land on the carpet or stain either of your clothes. But he doesn’t touch your cunt, simply pulling your panties back over and you feel how his load sticks to the fabric and your sensitive lips.

When he fixes his clothes and helps you with yours, you walk back to the conference room and see that everyone is already eating cake. You took longer than fifteen minutes.

Zayne catches Dalton’s eye, smirking when his mouth is slightly ajar after he sees your knees wobble a little bit in your effort to make it seem like you weren’t just weeping for his dick a minute ago. Like his cum isn’t nestled between your puffy lips with each step you take.

That satisfaction fulfills Zayne as he feeds you cake, loving how your pretty lips wraps around the fork and how your tongue licks the frosting away after each bite. All the while, he wonders if Dalton is imagining how pretty you look when you’re being fucked. He knows that he wishes it was him. Fortunately for your boyfriend, he’s the only man that’ll ever have the privilege.

A/N: Omg, I think I got carried away LOLLL.

[evesbookshop]

𝐌𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞 ❤︎︎

✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Izuku Midoriya who starts knitting as physical therapy after his last battle. Who by the time he’s a teacher has insane hand dexterity and is ambidextrous. Whose friends all have their own knit versions of their own merch. Who knits both you and himself little braided rings you both use as place holders until you marry. Which is extremely helpful cause he can just keep remaking his when it falls off without his knowledge or breaks

Izuku Midoriya, who always feels absolutely horrible when he does loose or damage one of these knit rings. And so he spends a few hours when he gets home wrecking you on extremely skilled fingers while whispering compliments and apologies in your ear. “You forgive me don’t you, baby?” Knowing you can’t see straight let alone form works.

Katsuki Bakugou, who despite being an absolute monster with Spicey food , cannot handle even a little sour. Who claims it’s just nasty , and won’t touch one with his friends around. Who falls victim when you give him a war head in place of a regular hard candy and whole face turns red just to twists in shock and betrayal before running out the room to spit it and and definitely not puke.

Katsuki Bakugou who’s a spiteful bastard, and so the next time you have sex, in the middle of moan you find lemon juice being squeezed into your mouth. Shock causing you to yelp and the juice to leak out your mouth. It’s okay though because despite hating the taste, he finds that it’s not so bad when he’s licking it off your throat.

Shoto Todoroki, who’s dense but not nearly as much as people think he is. It took a him a while to figure out he didn’t just really want to be your friend, and then stop ignoring you after the fact. But otherwise very aware of social ques and habits. Who was literally media trained as a child, but he just thinks it’s funnier to blurt things out that should probably stay private. Who acts very lost sometimes but only when it’s beneficial and gets people to leave him alone. And who after getting into a relationship doesn’t do it in private, because he refuses to lie or anything close to you.

Shoto Todoroki who despite not liking to play dense with you in day to day life is more then willing to use it against you in bed “oh right here ? Did that feel good? I’m sorry I can’t quite understand you , love?”

Eijiro Kirishima, who’s a tank of a man , the epitome of typical masculinity out side of his tender personality. Who also eats up trash reality television. Big brother, real house wives, keeping up with the kardashians, toddlers and tiaras, and the holy grail- Jersey Shore. He who has matching meatball shirts with you and that same pair of studded out sunglasses. And who because of said tv shows, has the nastiest reads in the book. A list shit talker when no one’s looking.

Eijiro Kirishima, who comes home one day to see you in the skimpiest outfit known to man, covered in leopard print. And finds himself more horny than he’s ever been in his entire life. Who is in the apartment for maybe 2 minutes before he has you face down, bent over the couch arm.

Denki Kaminari, who’s is actually a little dense and struggles with numbers and letters, due to dyslexia they caught late, but loves to consume literature. Who is might as well be a walking audible commercial. Who is an avid Colleen Hoover hater. Who eats up all sorts of books from biographies to the most jaw dropping smut books ever. Who because of his vast online book collection, is actually really smart just about oddly specific things and people.

Denki Kaminari who drags you into the bedroom because he’s trying to figure out a really oddly worded position in a book, and lets you reap the benefits of his confusion.at least when he gets it right, for the first half it’s mostly maneuvering around each other while listening to the same part of the book in utter confusion.

✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ❤︎︎

[starkeymeow]

plot ── stranded on a desolate beach in morocco after the storm, you and rafe, exes bound together by circumstance, sit in the aftermath, surrounded by wreckage both around you and between you.

content ── LYRICS from we hug now by sydney rose!! exes-to-something, rafe as the ex obvi, heavy emotions, angst, post-storm aftermath, some swearing, no real plot just feelings

authors note ── hi ik this isnt ‘waking up to you’ or anything but THIS SONG has been STUCK in my HEAD for the last week its sooo ughhbbrbrbhhendnejd, i also had a whole plot story to this n had to cut like 70% of it so it wasnt too long to read omg

the fire crackles, sending embers into the air that flicker for a moment before disappearing into the dark. it’s small, but enough to keep everyone warm, enough to make it feel like they still have something to hold onto.

you’ve sat next to kiara, eyes distant, barely focused. the silence stretches, heavy, before john b speaks again.

“maybe they just washed up further down the beach,” he says, voice strained, raw. he’s referring to sarah and jj, who none of you have seen since the storm. “we just gotta keep looking.”

a beat.

he’s holding onto everything before he lets himself believe that sarah and jj are gone. you don’t blame him.

“we’ll look at first light,” kie says, determined, like she refuses to think otherwise.

you believe it too. or maybe you just need to.

the firelight flickers in rafe’s eyes as he stares into it, his expression unreadable, but you know he’s feeling everything the rest of you are. after everything, after all of this, he’s part of this now. he always has been.

“i’m gonna, uh . . . try to get some shut-eye,” he murmurs, voice low, uncertain. he knows no one will really care, knows the others will probably stay up because they can’t sleep. he wants to at least try. try to sleep it off and not have to think about his sister being gone.

but when he pushes himself up, brushing sand off his hands, you gather your jacket and move too. “me too,” you mumble, though it’s not really about the sleep.

you don’t know what you’re looking for, not exactly. but you know that wherever rafe goes, that’s where you’ll settle too.

he chooses a spot just a few feet away from the fire, still close enough to feel the warmth but lower, on the slope of the beach where the sand is softer. at first, he doesn’t lay down. just sits, staring out at the dark, endless stretch of sand.

you pull your jacket on, the sleeves slightly damp still, and lower yourself beside him. knees pulled to your chest, arms draped loosely over them. the fire crackles behind you, but all you hear is the ocean. relentless, constant.

you shift your gaze away from him, staring down at the sand between your boots. your thoughts are too loud, crashing into each other in a way that makes your head ache, but still, you speak, “you think they’re still out there?”

the words leave your mouth before you can second-guess them, before you can stop yourself from making the air even heavier than it already is.

rafe doesn’t move at first. doesn’t even blink. his eyes stay locked on the dark horizon, but after a long moment, he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head.

“jesus, y/n,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with something unreadable. “can we not?” he doesn’t say it with anger, but there’s something firm in the way he says it, something final.

your throat tightens, and you press your lips together, inhaling slowly through your nose. he’s right. all you’ve done today is think and talk about it. but stopping, letting it go, even just for a second, feels impossible. still, you don’t argue.

you want to say something, anything, but your mind feels empty, exhausted, useless until you remember earlier. the closet. the way his wrists were tied. the way his eyes burned into yours when you placed the food in front of him, like he didn’t know whether to thank you or hate you for it.

the way he spat those words at you like he’d been holding them in for months. your stomach twists at the thought, and before you can stop yourself, you glance at him again.

“you meant what you said earlier?” your voice is quieter this time, careful.

rafe finally turns his head toward you, brow furrowing slightly, “when?”

“back in the closet.”

his jaw tightens. you can see the way his fingers flex against his knees, the slight shift in his posture, like he already regrets looking at you.

you swallow, steadying yourself before continuing, “you said it looked like i just left you behind.” your voice wavers, but you push through it. “like you weren’t anything to me anymore.”

a sharp exhale leaves his nose. he rubs a hand across his temple, shaking his head. “yeah, well, i did mean that,” he mutters, voice lower now, strained. “doesn’t mean i wanna fucking talk about it.”

you look down, biting the inside of your cheek. but you don’t drop it. “but you just said you meant it,” you press, watching the way his knee bounces slightly, a restless habit he’s always had.

he doesn’t answer right away. his throat bobs as he swallows, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for something but doesn’t know what. “what’d you expect me to think, y/n?” his voice is rough. “you look at me like i’m nothing. like i’m not even worth thinking about.”

his words cut deep, but there’s no real anger behind them. just exhaustion. and your breath catches slightly, but you don’t look away from him.

“you were something to me, rafe,” you say, and there’s no hesitation this time. “you still are.”

his head turns fully now, his eyes locking onto yours, searching. but he doesn’t say anything, and then he exhales, long and slow, shaking his head as he looks back at the sand, “doesn’t feel like it.”

the silence between you stretches, but there’s more to say. you know it. he knows it.

rafe exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face before settling his elbows on his knees again, fingers twisting together. you can feel the tension radiating off of him, the way he keeps shaking his head slightly like he’s trying to physically push the thoughts out of his head. but he can’t.

so you shift slightly, pulling your knees tighter against your chest, and before you can second-guess yourself, you whisper, “just say it.”

rafe’s head turns toward you, brow furrowed. “what?”

you swallow, watching him carefully. “everything you’re thinking about. everything you haven’t said. just—” you gesture vaguely, feeling the exhaustion pulling at you, but pushing through it. “get it out.”

rafe scoffs under his breath, shaking his head again, eyes flicking back toward the fire. “doesn’t matter,” he mutters. “not like it changes anything.”

“maybe not,” you admit, voice softer now. “but you’re gonna lose your mind if you keep it all in.”

he doesn’t say anything for a long moment. just stares at the flames, his jaw tight, his knee bouncing slightly. but then, he breathes, shaking his head as his voice drops lower.

“it just— it feels like everything got fucked, y’know?” he mutters, his hands twitching against his knees. “all of it. like, one second, we’re—” he gestures vaguely between you, his voice almost bitter, probably referring to when you two were together, “—and then the next, you just see right through me, like i was never anything to you. and now sarah a— and jj,” his voice catches slightly, and he drags a hand through his hair, “i don’t know how the fuck we’re supposed to come back from this.”

you watch him, feeling your chest tighten, feeling your fingers dig into the fabric of your jacket. but you don’t interrupt, you just let him talk.

“you’re supposed to trust the people who give a shit about you,” he continues, but it’s like it’s physically hurting him to say it. “but it’s like, i don’t know. i don’t know where i stand anymore. and it’s fucking exhausting.”

he exhales again, shaking his head, muttering under his breath. “and maybe it’s selfish,” his voice cracks slightly, but he pushes through it. “but all i can think about is how much i fucking hate feeling like this. like i’m—”

he stops.

presses his lips together.

but you already know the words sitting on the edge of his tongue.

like he’s alone.

like he always has been.

your throat tightens.

your fingers twitch slightly against your knees.

and then, quieter now, almost like he’s afraid to say it,

“i have a feeling you got everything you wanted,” he mutters, his voice raw. “and you’re not wasting time stuck here like me. you’re just thinking it’s a small thing that happened.”

he exhales sharply, his hands clenching into fists as his gaze drops back to the sand.

“the world ended when it happened to me.”

the words settle between you, heavy and unshakable. you stare at him, your breath caught somewhere in your throat. because for the first time, rafe isn’t just angry. he isn’t just bitter or frustrated or hiding behind sharp words and sharp edges. he’s just hurt. and for the first time, he’s actually letting you see it.

he won’t look at you now, his jaw tight, his hands still curled into fists against his knees. his shoulders rise and fall with each slow, uneven breath, like he’s trying to keep himself together, like he’s afraid that if he doesn’t, he’ll unravel completely.

and you get it.

because you feel it too.

you shift slightly, your fingers twitching against your jacket, your chest tight with something that feels dangerously close to regret. you don’t know how to fix this, how to make up for everything unsaid, for everything broken between you. maybe you can’t. but you can at least try.

you inhale slowly, pressing your lips together before speaking, voice barely above a whisper.

“it wasn’t a small thing.”

rafe’s head turns slightly, but he doesn’t look at you. his jaw clenches, like he’s waiting for you to say something else, like he’s expecting an argument, but you don’t argue. you just exhale, gaze flickering to the horizon.

“it never was,” you continue, quieter now. “not to me.”

rafe is silent, but his fists loosen slightly, his shoulders drop just a little.

you shift again, your knee brushing against his, and you don’t move away. you don’t pull back like you normally would, don’t let yourself retreat into the silence. instead, you let it happen. you let the warmth of his skin ground you, let the steady rise and fall of his breath remind you that, after everything, you’re both still here.

his fingers twitch against his knee. and then, so quietly you almost miss it,

“then why did it feel like i was nothing to you?”

your breath catches. finally, rafe looks at you. his eyes are dark, but there’s something else there now. something raw, something unguarded. he’s not just asking because he’s angry. he’s asking because he needs to know. and you owe him an answer.

you wet your lips, fingers curling around the fabric of your jacket as you search for the right words. “i don’t know,” you admit, voice small. “i don’t— i didn’t mean for it to feel like that.”

rafe exhales through his nose, tilting his head back slightly, staring up at the sky like he’s trying to find answers in the stars. “then what did you mean for it to feel like?”

you swallow. “like i was scared,” you whisper. “like i didn’t know what to do. like— like everything was changing too fast and i couldn’t keep up.”

rafe doesn’t say anything for a long moment. but then, after what feels like an eternity, “yeah,” he mutters, voice low. “i get that.” and you believe him.

because despite everything, rafe does get it. he knows what it feels like to lose control, to feel like the ground is shifting beneath you faster than you can catch your balance. he knows what it’s like to be left behind.

and maybe that’s why he doesn’t pull away when you shift closer, when you let your shoulder press lightly against his.

maybe that’s why he sighs, just barely, and leans into you, too.

the fire crackles softly, casting warm light over the both of you, over the quiet understanding that settles between you.

you don’t say anything else.

you don’t need to.

because for the first time in a long time, the silence between you doesn’t feel like something broken.

it just feels like peace.

a/n: crying cs i didnt know how to end this honest LMFOAOA

[mulloey]

so like… mtl likely to participate in hardcore cnc kink with the reader?

like, I think jun would be open to it because he’s good at acting and seems really observant but I’d like to see what your thoughts are on it and why ^-^

cnc with seventeen

first of all thanks to my girl @my-favefics for helping me with this!! and for getting me into writing svt in the first place.

this will be posted in three parts, beginning with the most eager and ending with the ones who might need a little convincing for it:)

warnings: cnc, rape roleplay, heavy dom/sub, the word ‘rape’ is used, fear play, manhandling, belting etc. this is intense. you’ve been warned. i’m not your babysitter and hate is blocked.

part one: the freaks

everything about cnc just screams seungcheol. he naturally assumes a dominant role over you, and he gets off on it too. the head rush he gets when you submit, giving yourself to him completely is comparable only to what he gets on stage—except with you, it’s so much more delicious. because you would let him do anything.

but what if he didn’t want you to let him?

what if he wanted you to struggle? what if he wanted to have to hold you down and force you to obey?

at first he’s disgusted with himself for having these thoughts. he feels like a terrible person, sick in the worst sense when he imagines you trying pathetically to fight him off, cowering and terrified when he finally subdues you. tears in your eyes as you beg him not to do this. beg him not to hurt you.

when he finally gathers the courage to bring it up he’s beyond nervous; stammering and shaking and refusing to meet your eyes until you grab his hand and nudge his face up to meet yours. “i wanna try it, cheollie,” you say.

silence, for a moment. “really?”

“yeah.”

you catch the glint in his eyes when he looks up at you; the darkness. the smile that grows on his face is nothing less than a warning.

he wouldn’t really be interested in the role play side of things; he doesn’t want to chase you down or break into the house with a knife. no, it wouldn’t do it for him if he were a stranger to you—it has to be him. you have to reject him. you have to be overpowered by him. you have to fear him—because it’s him. because you know the power he wields and all the things he’s capable of.

maybe he’ll make a move while you’re on the couch or in bed; you’ll make a show of pushing him off, hiding your excitement as you tell him you’re just not in the mood right now. and he’ll just tilt his head, cocking an eyebrow quizzically as he stares at you like you’ve just said something ridiculous. offensive, even.

“oh?” he says. “you’re saying no to me now? who taught you that, baby?”

“i have the right to say no, seungcheol.” you try to sound firm but your voice wobbles and his eyes flash with delight. “it’s my body.”

“oh is it?” he chuckles, a deep sound; and nothing about the man in front of you is the loving and considerate person he was seconds ago. “you really don’t know how this works, huh?”

“how what works?”

he moves quickly, pinning you to the couch and hovering over you like prey. “you let me have you,” he breathes. “you let me take you. that means i own you, baby. and you don’t say no to your owner.”

your breath hitches, adrenaline pulsing; despite your knowledge and delight at what’s happening a very real fear begins to pulsate as you kick and squirm under his grip, but he’s so strong he barely seems to notice. “this isn’t fucking funny, seungcheol,” you say. “i don’t like this.”

“poor thing,” he coos. “she doesn’t like this, huh? you know i could make this a lot worse for you, don’t you?”

“stop, cheol. please, i don’t—”

the strength of the slap seems to take you both by surprise; his eyes widen and you cry out, clutching your cheek but it only spurs him on. “you need to learn some respect,” he spits. “need to learn some fucking manners.”

you put up a good fight, of course; you kick and thrash and fight until your body gives out but he’s so much stronger than you—and if he has to physically drag you into position himself, or gag you with your own panties to stop you from screaming for help? then he fucking will.

it’s about time you learned your place.

—

you've always known jeonghan had a bit of a fear kink. and by a bit—well, he goes crazy for it. completely feral at the idea of you cowering beneath him; flinching when he raises his hand; reacting physically to his little displays of power.

it's his favourite game and it's yours too. it came up fairly early in your relationship; when you were just staring to explore more... extreme kinks, and had become aware of just how fucked up you both were. how much you loved it when he hit just a little too hard; used a bit too much pressure: pushed you just a little too far. he felt the way you'd clench around him when you broke down and cried; when he'd whisper threats in your ear and feel the pulse of fear rush through you.

so of course he wants to push it further. so do you.

so you don’t know why you’re so surprised when he comes up to you one day and asks if you want to play this new game he’s been thinking of.

from the look in his eye you have an inkling of what it might be; a hint of something so fucked up and depraved you’re the only person he could ever say it to. and you’re right, of course, as you usually are with him—but even you’re taken aback to hear the words “i want to rape you” come from his mouth.

“oh,” you whisper.

he raises an eyebrow, staring expectantly, if a little nervously at you. “what do you think?”

“it… in what context?” you ask.

“i mean… it wouldn’t be real, baby. you’d have a safeword. i just wanna… fuck.” he shakes his head, cheeks flushed already and it makes you pulse. he really, really wants this.

“wanna what?” you prompt.

“i wanna see you scared, pretty girl. like really, really terrified.”

oh. yes. you want to see that too.

he doesn’t tell you when he’s going to do it; wants it to be a surprise, he says. but you get a bit of a clue a few days later, when he reminds you seven times in the same morning what your safeword is.

still, for his sake you pretend to be surprised when the large presence behind you suddenly clamps a hand over you mouth and drags you over to the wall; slamming you into it with brute strength. there’s danger in his eyes; excitement on a level you’ve never seen and his dick is straining against his pants. “what do we have here?” he smiles. “walking around all pretty like that.” his eyes flicker down to your attire; the loose tshirt and panties clinging to your hips. “you were waiting for me, weren’t you?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking abou—”

he cuts you off with a hand around your throat, holding you in place with enough pressure to set your heart racing. “don’t lie,” he croons. “i know all about you, baby. i know how sluts dress when they’re wanting some attention.”

“i’m not lying.” you spit it through gritted teeth and his lips curl into a smile; somehow sweet and nauseating at the same time.

“well, let’s check, hm?”

you were definitely lying—you wore those pretty little panties you know he loves just to provoke him. unfortunately for you, your pussy does not lie, and when he slips two fingers into your panties his face tells you the jig is up.

“oh dear,” he muses. “i think you were lying, baby. i think you need to learn to tell the truth.”

“learn?” you echo. “how?”

his smile widens. “you ever had your ass fucked, dolly?”

that’s your cue, you decide; you shove him off you with all your strength and make a mad dash for the living room. he just watches you, amused more than irritated—he knows you’ve no chance of overpowering or escaping him. you just need to make a good attempt at it so you can feel like you resisted; can pretend you’re not just as aching for it as he is.

your tears don’t fool him; the sobbed pleas not to hurt you too much, not to do this, i’ll give you whatever you want, just please not this. they only spur him on—make his hips buck and his grip tighten on you. seeing you cry and writhe beneath him only makes him even more determined to destroy you—to ruin you in ways only he knows how. to make it hurt.

and he’d never tell you, but he was always a bit of a masochist too, so the cuts and scratches you leave while he subdues you only makes that first strangling squeeze of your asshole around his dick feel that much better.

—

minghao loves it when you cry. he really, really fucking loves it. to see you break down underneath him, calling his name pathetically between sobs; to see the tears on your face; the red cheeks and helpless eyes—to know that he’s the one who caused it all. there’s nothing like it on earth.

he wants to see you completely fucking broken. you’ve known it for a while now; you were just waiting for him to make the move.

he catches your arm one day as you’re walking past; pulling you towards him with a small smile. “by the way, sweetheart,” he purrs. “your safeword is turkey. don’t forget it.”

“why?” you giggle, sort of half-knowing already.

“because, pet,” he whispers. “from now on, unless you say that word… when you tell me stop, tell me too much, tell me it hurts… i’m gonna keep going. gonna use you til i’m satisfied. now doesn’t that sound fun?”

it really fucking does.

and once this new arrangements of yours is firmly established? he only gets more sadistic. he hits you harder, chokes you harder; drags you into alleyways and public bathrooms with a hand over your mouth just because he can. because you love it.

he’s been fucking you for what feels like hours now. you’re in the bed at least; a small mercy given how fond he’s become lately of forcing you onto all fours on the floor and fucking you until your knees are red and raw. but now your legs are stretched painfully as he holds them firmly on his shoulders and he’s drilling into you so hard it’s painful; saying such horrible things that it all just feels… too much.

and at the same time, it’s nowhere near enough.

but you know exactly what to say to get him to go harder.

“minghao.” you force the word out of your throat, raw and irritated from his earlier abuse. “stop.”

“what did you say?” he asks, not even slowing down for a second. “stop?”

“please, hao.”

he laughs, a sharp, bitter sound. “insolent little brat,” he grunts. “fucking bitch, you think you get to decide that? we’re done when i say we’re done, whore.”

“n-no,” you cry. you try to struggle, writhing under his grip and he slams his hand down on your clit, making you scream.

“yes,” he snarls. “shut up and take it, fuckdoll. this is my fucking pussy and i’ll use it until i’m done.”

you’re sobbing now, hot tears streaming down your face and he leans over you; eyes dark and delighted. “oh, that’s it,” he coos. “let it out, honey. i’ll take care of you. i’m gonna break your pretty brain until there’s nothing left.”

you can’t even talk now, too overwhelmed to think as the pace and force of his thrusts only quickens; you feel like you’re being split open, all your senses in overdrive and your entire body in pain and you’ve never, ever been more turned on.

he can tell.

“good girl,” he mutters. “so fucking wet for me. don’t worry, honey. i’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

he does.

—

if there’s one thing that gets wonwoo off, it’s your size difference. doesn’t matter how big; he just adores it. he adores the way you look so tiny and fragile under him; how small your hand looks in his—how easy it would be to overpower you with his big, strong body.

but how easy would it be, if you actually put up a fight?

you never really have—you love it when he manhandles you; when holds you down, uses his size against you, so you’ve never really resisted it. the only taste he’s ever had of a true fight are those little play fights you have from time to time; stupid, half-heated fighting for stupid reasons. but even that was enough of a taste to drive him absolutely wild. he needs more. he needs to win you.

“sweetheart,” he calls for you as he walks into your apartment after work. you come running immediately as you always do, pulling him into a hug and he laughs. “hi, honey. you—”

you pull away suddenly, just enough to peer up at him with those wide, innocent eyes, and all else is forgotten. you look so small like this. he can’t wait any longer. he won’t.

“fuck,” he curses. you raise an eyebrow, head tilting. “baby. tiny girl.”

“yeah?” fuck, your voice is so soft. so weak.

“sweetheart. i wanna try something new with you.”

“o…okay.” you sound confused; a little nervous—good. you should be. “what is it, woo?”

“i want you to fight me off.”

the silence is thick and painful and never ending as he awaits your response; you blink once, twice, three times as you process what he’s said to you. “fight you off?” you repeat. “like, in sex?”

you don’t sound disgusted, at least—just unsure exactly what he’s asking you. he hums, nodding his head. "i want to overpower you, baby," he says. "i wanna earn that pussy—fight for it, you know? wanna see you struggle."

fuck. you do know, now that you think about it. "yeah," you say. "i think i wanna try it."

"yeah?" he grins, demeanour shifting; it amazes you sometimes, how quickly he can let the nerves fall away and fully envelop himself in what he's doing. "you wanna fight me off, baby?"

“yeah.” you swallow, lightheaded already. “i wanna.”

“good girl.”

you’re half expecting him to pounce on you straight away, but instead he presses a kiss to your forehead and walks off. you decide not to question him; knowing your boyfriend, he’s already got this planned out to the letter, and by the sounds of it, waiting and wandering when he’s going to strike is half the point.

but if he thinks taking you by surprise will make you easy to subdue, he’s dead fucking wrong.

the moment his hand closes over your mouth some days later, you’re ready; adrenaline kicks in instantly and you shove back against him; your hands fly up to claw at his forearm where he’s wrapped it around your neck, pressing against your throat with just enough pressure to make you panic. “come on, easy, easy baby.” his voice is soft, soothing and it fools no one. “don’t struggle, you know i don’t like it when you struggle.”

a lie, of course—his dick is rock hard and pressed against your ass, twitching each time you thrash and struggle against him. he loves his—even loves it when you bite down on his palm hard enough to draw blood.

“fuck,” he curses; he pulls his hand away from your mouth but the arm against your throat is more than enough to keep you still as he yanks your head back to meet his eyes.

the face that stares back at you is unlike you’ve ever seen it; none of the love and tenderness you can usually find even in the most intense of scenes—rather pure, uncompromising darkness. ice.

“you bitch,” he spits. “fuck, i was gonna be nice to you, y’know, was even gonna let you cum a few times but you obviously can’t behave.”

“fuck you,” you grunt. when his grip loosens momentarily you try to make a run for it but he just laughs, pulling you back into him as easily as if you were a tiny puppy who’d wriggled out of its leash.

“i don’t think so, doll,” he says. “you don’t run from me. now be good and i won’t have to hurt you too much, yeah?”

the answer is no, obviously, just as he wanted it to be—it doesn’t stop him from holding you by the hair and belting your ass raw while you cry and squirm on his cock, though.

doesn’t stop you from loving every second of it, either.

—

[augustjoy]

The Color Pink

Based on the following ask: Hii, I was just wondering if you could do Aaron x reader but the team for some reason refuses to warm up to her for a while.  If you can please make the reader hyperfem only if you want to. Thank you!!!! I love the idea of Hotch with a hyperfem girlie – she’d be in pink ALWAYS, with a wardrobe and home full of ruffles! So, the BAU team is against this relationship of Hotch’s because 1. They assume she’s a bimbo due to the hyperfemininity and 2. She’s young. Basically, they are questioning Hotch’s judgement on this one. Flashbacks in italics.

Aaron Hotchner x HyperFem! Reader Angst/Fluff Word count: 2552

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (reader is 20s/Hotch is 40s), female reader, np physical description (other than having hair long enough to curl and Aaron referring to her as little – which he’s big tall so everyone is small compared to him), hyperfeminine reader, explicit language, consultant reader, BAU being judgy overprotective, Morgan being rude, Spencer and Garcia defending the reader, Reader is a presumed Bimbo…but is actually really smart (Elle Woods-esque),  mentions of food/eating, reader has a flash of self-doubt, mention of Jack, let me know if I missed anything.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Meeting you had been an act of fate. At least, that’s how Aaron saw it. You were not the type of girl he’d typically go for…not ever. But that morning, you’d got a flat tire on your way to work, ironically on Aaron’s way to work. He had to do the right thing, any chivalrous man would, he was going to pull over no matter what, but when you stepped out of your car…that sealed the deal. He needed to pull over because if he didn’t, someone else would, someone potentially dangerous.

--

“Excuse me miss; do you need some help?” Aaron offered.

“Oh, I um – I got a flat. I called Triple A, but they said it be like forty-five minutes.” You explained.

You stepped out of your car and stole the breath from Aaron’s lungs. You were in a satin pink button-up blouse, with high-waisted white trousers, and strappy pink heels. Your hair was cascading over your shoulders in beautiful loose curls, your gaze lifted to his. Aaron had to release a light cough to pull himself out of the trance you had him in.

“Do you have a spare?” He asked.

“I don’ t think so. But like I said, Triple A is on the way, so I guess I will just sit and wait.” You shrugged.

“I’m not sure I feel comfortable leaving you here on your own.” Aaron admitted.

You gave him a once over. He was in a well-fitted gray suit, his hair lightly slicked back, black dress shoes, and a silver Rolex resting on his left wrist. You took quick note of the absence of a wedding ring. A very brief rush of unease slid through you, but it was washed away as he moved his hand to his hip, unknowingly flashing the FBI badge that was clipped to his belt loop.

“I’d hate to be an imposition. Plus, we are strangers…” You eyed him once more.

“Right, I uh – I’m Aaron Hotchner.” He introduced himself and offered you his hand to shake.

You shook it gently, giving him your name. You couldn’t help the blush that crept over your cheeks at the warmth radiating from him. It was your turn to feel breathless. Taking him in once more, you had to admit to yourself that he was handsome. Clearly older than you, but you didn’t mind…and age didn’t define beauty.

Aaron had waited the whole forty-five minutes with you, once Triple A showed up, he waited for you to get everything squared away with them before turning to leave.

“So that’s it?”  You called after him.

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“You just sat and waited forty-five minutes with me and you’re just going to leave? Without asking me out? Or at least asking for my phone number?” You huffed.

Aaron was speechless. He had wanted to ask you out…truthfully he’d thought about it the moment you stepped out of your car, but he didn’t want you to fell that he was some sort of predator. But now here you were, this gorgeous little thing, asking him to ask you out.

“Would you go to dinner with me Friday? Provided my work doesn’t call me away.” He asks.

“Yes. Pick me up at seven.” You smiled, handing him a light pink business card.

--

Initially, Aaron didn’t introduce you to anyone because he wanted to see if your relationship would bloom into something real. As things did progress, he opened up to you about his life, his job, his family…and his demons. He hadn’t wanted to let his darkness taint your light, your sparkle, but one night while he was staying with you, he’d had a brutal nightmare, one that had him spewing all the information out to you while you held him close, your sparkle shining bright.

Another reason why Aaron had hesitated to really bring you into his world was because you were so different than the other women he’d dated. They were grown-up, mature (maybe even too mature), boring even, and here you were, this pastel princess whose home was filled with pink – ruffled pillows, lace curtains, fashion books, flowers, fluffy rugs, etc. you were the textbook definition of a girly-girl.

He was sure the BAU team would have some pretty strong opinions about his relationship with you, not only because of your differences, but also because of the almost 20-year age gap. It sounded silly, but he really wanted the team to like you.

The first time Aaron introduced you to the team hadn’t exactly gone as he had hoped. He had asked you to join them out at their favorite bar for drinks. They had put on quite the show in front of you, but when you stepped away to get a drink, the truth came out.

--

“Hey guys, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited my girlfriend to join us.” Aaron mentioned casually.

A chorus of “what” and “you have a girlfriend” and “who is she” all rang out at once. He couldn’t help but chuckle at them. He figured he should answer some of their questions now so that way they could focus on getting to know you once you arrived.

“She and I have been together for about six months. It’s getting pretty serious and, uh – she uh…” Aaron smiles to himself. “She um, she’s different than the other girls I’ve dated, so just keep an open mind and get to know her.”

You arrived about ten minutes later, rendering everyone speechless. You walked in with a light pink mini puff dress on. It flowed around you in a cloud of tulle it rested against your upper thighs which were adorned in sparkly nude tights. You’d chosen to wear white lace up heels with it, and your hair was pulled back, pinned up with loose tendrils framing your face.

“Hi! I’m so sorry I’m late, a client called last minute and, you totally do not want to hear about my boring work.” You sighed, meeting the gazes of the stunned agents seated before you.

Aaron had officially introduced you to everyone, they exchanged hesitant pleasantries, and you began making small talk. After a few awkward moments, you excused yourself to get a drink.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Aaron asked.

“No, no. I got it honey. I’ll get you another whiskey.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked toward the bar.

As soon as you were out of earshot, the questions came rolling in. Most notably, Dereks.

“What the hell are you doing man?”

“I beg your pardon?” Aaron was shocked.

“Hotch, man, she’s young enough to be your daughter. And I mean, look at her.” Derek gestured toward where you stood at the bar.

“I am well aware of her age Morgan. She and I have discussed that at length and have both agreed that it didn’t matter. Age doesn’t change how we feel about one another.”

“Hotch, I’m more worried about the fact that she looks like she just walked off of sorority row.” Emily shook her head.

“Yeah, her outfit…Hotch she’s not serious. I mean she’s still a kid.” JJ added.

“That’s enough, she and I are serious. She’s not a kid; she runs a very successful consulting firm, she is kind and sweet, she takes care of me, she gets along with Jack, and I and…well. I love her.” Aaron concluded.

A muffled remark sounded from across the table. Morgan had more to say, and Aaron wasn’t going to let it go. He cared about you and the people across from him were his family, their opinions meant a lot to him…but right now they were letting him down.

“Say it out loud Morgan.” Aaron demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Say it.” Aaron hissed.

“I said she gets along with Jack because they’re closer in age.” Derek shot back.

The table went silent, tension filling the air. Aaron scoffed, shook his head in disbelief, and walked away. Moving towards you, coming up with some lame excuse to get the hell out of there.

“Look, I know that was a lot, but I didn’t say anything that we weren’t all thinking. That girl, she’s a bimbo. Hotch needs someone more serious…more like Beth.” Derek justified.

“Wow.” Penelope scoffed, pushing her chair away from the table. “You guys are terrible.”

“What are you talking about?

“Did you not see his face? Hotch is happy, his smile took over his entire face…because of that girl and you all tore him down so quickly. I mean come on. Spence when was the last time Hotch smiled like that?” Penelope asked.

“The last time Hotch has smiled like that in front of us was back in 2005 when he introduced Jack to the team as a newborn.”  Spencer rattled off.

--

That was about eight months ago. Aaron and you have grown even more serious since then, you moved in together – into a new house where you could set up a space that was all your own, full of pink and ruffles and lace.

Honestly, Aaron had gone as far as buying a ring for you. He wanted to propose and had the whole thing planned. He and Jack were going to take you on a picnic and then they’d ask you to become a permanent part of their family.

Despite the happiness he felt at the idea of marrying you, he couldn’t help the disappointment that crept in. He wanted his family to all be there in support of you two…and his family, well that was the BAU.

He knew he’d have to talk to them, to do something to prove to them how incredible you are.

--

Aaron had called everyone to the round table. He needed to tell them about how serious he really was about you, and he needed them to love you.

 “I asked you all here because today we will have a special guest for lunch.” Aaron went on to explain that you’d be coming in, bringing in lunch from one of the BAU’s favorites. “I know that when you all first met her, you were unsure. But I need you all to realize that I’ve been with her for over a year now, we live together, and…”

“You can’t be serious man. She’s naïve, just some young hot thing seeking an older man, presumably for his money.” Derek interrupted.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Aaron commanded. “I plan on marrying her, and you guys are my family. I need my family there when I marry this woman. If you can’t get on board…then I guess you aren’t the people I thought you were.” Aaron says with finality.

There was a collective nod and shrug amongst everyone.

--

When you walked in, you could feel the tension like a thick fog. It was all consuming, like picking a hangnail until that piece of skin runs further and further up your finger, bleeding and tender.

You needed this to go well.

Aaron had told you to be your usual self. He wanted the team to like you for you, but you knew it would be best to tone it down at least a little bit. You’d choose to wear light blue jeans, a chunky pink sweater, and some heeled ballet flats. Your arms were juggling multiple bags, filled with sandwiches and another one with drinks for everyone.

“Hi guys.” You offered a small wave as you entered the conference room.

“Hey sweetheart, let me help you with those.” Aaron was quick to grab the bags from you.

“You look stunning as always! It’s good to see you again!” Penelope greeted.

“Oh, thanks babe! I love the new hair; it is such a good color!” You complimented. “Oh, Spence, I got you something!” You pulled a wrapped book from your bag, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He asked, gently pulling at the wrapping. “The Narrative of John Smith, this is one of my favorites!” Spencer gushed.

“It’s a special edition, they only made 200 of them. But that’s not the best part…open the cover.” You were giddy with excitement.

Spencer opened the book to reveal that it had been signed. “Are you kidding me! This is amazing, thank you so much!”

“It’s really no problem.” You smiled.

Aaron was beaming at you, you had been so kind, showing them all who you really were, and he just hoped that they’d all finally see you for who you truly are.

As everyone finished their lunch, you began clearing the trash. Everyone offers thanks to you, the girls planning a day out with you. Each of them seemed to be coming around except for Derek. Aaron couldn’t figure out why he was so against you.

--

You said your goodbyes and made your way out. They had all filtered out of the conference room when Aaron decided to confront Derek once and for all.

“Everyone else has come around, so why can’t you? What is your problem with her?” Aaron asked.

“It’s not her that I have a problem with. Not really.” Derek shrugged. “Look man, I am sorry for how I have acted towards her. It’s unacceptable. But I don’t think you dating her is a good idea.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it’s misplaced Morgan. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“You think that now Hotch. But what are you going to do when she up and walks away. That is the type of girl who will ruin your life and Hotch, you’ve been hurt too many times. You and Jack have lost far too much.”

“Derek, I know you are worried for me, but I have to see this through. I really love this girl, and she can handle herself, she makes good money, so I know that isn’t the motivation here. She is everything to me, and she has done nothing but prove that she feels the same for me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I have your back man, and if you love her, then I’m not going to stand in your way.”

--

Things began looking up after that. Derek had pushed his concerns aside and took the time to get to know you, which only made him feel like an idiot for his behavior. Aaron had been right, you could hold your own – you were smart and witty and far to quick with your words, giving him a run for his money. Derek started to see how big your heart was, and he saw the changes in Aaron thanks to your presence in his life. He started to actually appreciate you and your love for his boss.

Aaron told you about his interaction with Derek and you offered some valuable insight.

“Honey, Derek looks up to you. You have made a huge impact on his life, and he has seen you lose so much because of your work, he’s seen you in, quite literally, your lowest moment. He just wants to protect you from hurting like that once again.”

“You are the smartest person I know sweetheart.” Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple.

--

Months later, the BAU team stood and witnessed Aaron and you vowing to spend forever with one another. You had finally been welcomed into this family.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust@khxna@crimesthatnooneaskedfor

[cherie-doll]

hello again!! i just wanted to askk, could i possibly request how the cod men would be with a self-conscious reader? :3 thank you for the curly-haired!reader hcs btw those were so cutesy!!

I hope u have a nice day/night <3 - 🦇

lol im back and yea ofc! (omg i finally wrote and posted something, EVERYONE CLAP)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Being Self-Conscious Around Them

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He notices that anytime you're out, you glance at your reflection in every mirror or window you appear in, you always regret doing it, and he notices it when you fix your hair to cover your face a little more, or bringing your hoodie over your head

He switches the shopping bags he was using both hands to carry to only one hand, with his now free hand he brings an arm over you and pulls you into him, tucking you into his side

And when you look up at him, a soft breath condensing in the cold air as it escapes your lips, he just smiles warmly and reassuringly at you

His voice, low but thickly as he says your name, wanting your utmost attention, and your eyes find his, in the quietude of the street on that evening you did not turn to glance at your reflection again

It is easy to worry endlessly, to get lost in your thoughts of how people see you, of being aware of every flaw someone could see in you, but you're once again reminded why for one person in the world who's always by your side sees past them

Ghost

Sometimes it is very subtle things you don't like about yourself, not always easy to perceive or notice, but he notices how you feel, the way you carry yourself is different, maybe your shoulders a little more hunched as you try to hide

He doesn't say anything, but he knows something like holding your hand extra tight will have your spinning mind grounded again when you're in public

A chaste but rare peck on your forehead when you get home as he detangles from your fingers and walks off, leaving you surprised but feeling warm inside for it

He knows he's not the best at providing comfort, the man himself uses a balaclava every time he goes out, the real reason for wearing it still unknown but you could say he's just gotten used to not showing his face, so he can't exactly tell you to not hide or turn away if he himself does it

Still, he wanted to give you something to lean on, anything to give you a little bit of reassurance

Soap

He doesn't see why you would be so self-conscious, he loves everything about you, why wouldn't you too?

To be honest, he's never cared that much about his appearance, and he may not exactly be the best when it comes to words, but he's trying

He wants to show you that you shouldn't shy away from him, that he will continue to show you love even if you're hesitant and overly aware of yourself, to not let it get to you or affect how you treat one another

He hates hearing you say negative things about yourself, even if you're just pointing them out, because he truly doesn't see the flaws you think are there, he looks up at you endearingly as he kneels down, his hands on your hips as he tells you about how he first fell for you

And God, you can't get him to shut up once he starts, you'll be laughing and telling him he can stop now, that you get the point he's trying to make, but he refuses to stop talking, you will listen to hear him go on for at least another 30 minutes

Gaz

Those days where your self confidence isn't the best suck :(, especially if you feel like nothing else is really going right and on top of that you just don't feel your best

Kyle would just sense that something is off when you walk through the door, he looks up from where he's sitting and just the sight of him makes you rush into his arms the moment he opens them for you

He'd hold you as he gently strokes your hair, which has a most calming effect on you, making your brain go quiet, feeling how soft his fingertips are against your scalp as they gently caress between strands of hair, it is during this that he asks if there's anything bothering you, since it's been a while since you've had a deep conversation

Feeling like nothing can hold you back, the streams of words just flows, and he's there to only nod and listen as he wishes he could clutch you tighter to his chest and heal everything inside of you, it hurts him to see you like this

But after you've poured everything out to him, he hums quietly and parts from you a little, you raise your head to meet his eyes in confusion

"You really think that?" and he gives the most loving and adoring look you've ever seen him give you it just melts you from the inside

Roach

Honestly, he'd sulk noticing how much it affects you, because he loves the confident you, how charming you are when you hold your head high not letting the thoughts swarming in the murky waters of your mind get to you

He knows he might not be able to change how you perceive yourself, but he can try his best to offer his comfort, maybe you're lying in bed, trying to make peace with the thoughts inside your head, and here comes your boyfriend/husband to climb into bed with you

Slowing making his way towards you like a cat seeking attention, resting his head on your lap as he stares up at you with dreamy eyes admiring you, and you can't ignore him, you take his face in your hands and feel the urge to aggressively love him

His soft smile reminding you of how much he loves you, it momentarily makes you forget about everything, you've been too engrossed in your thoughts you forgot about the person who could erase your doubts even if it was for a moment

The tenderness in his eyes when he murmurs "I love you"

Alejandro

Alejandro is the best at excessive flattery, he does not pass up a moment to tell you how good you look, the problem is that's what he thinks, you're more worried about what your mind has to say and what others might think too

No matter how far down you try to push your thoughts, they just keep finding a way to resurface and make you feel awful, why do you even care so much? It feels like you should, everyone else feels so natural, you want to feel normal for once

Seeing how distressing it can be for you to the point you avoid certain things, Alejandro decides to take matters into his own hands

Telling you, "Who cares what anyone else thinks? It's what you and I think, and no matter what, I still feel the same way", you already know he'd go through extreme measures just to have you feeling like the luckiest person alive, everyone should be envying you for having what you have and you should look and feel it too

Rudy

You're always asking him, "How do I look?" and he will always answer with a smile and "You're beautiful cariño" except you don't believe it, especially when you asked for his jacket, you're not even cold but suddenly you don't like how you feel in your outfit, maybe the people passing by are snickering or laughing or noticing that there is something wrong with you

You just want to turn around and go back home where you can be at peace without the fear of judgement, but Rudy stops for a moment, sensing right away how you feel and asking if you really want to, he could take you back home and instead choose to do something else for the night

You nod yes and he doesn't hesitate in rearranging his plans, he centers his life around you anyways, and he'd rather take a raincheck for any other night than make you feel uncomfortable, he just cares endlessly about you

But he wishes he could find a way to make you see you like he does

Phillip Graves

Waiiitt I've literally entertained the idea of this with him before ;)

You staring into the mirror, unsatisfied with yourself until you're approached by Phillip from behind, him wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his head onto your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck, making you laugh softly

But he notices that sad look behind your eyes, your furrowed brows

No matter how much you try to bring it up to him, he will not let you get more than a sentence in before shaking his head, he doesn't want you to express anymore of those negative feelings, knowing that if you started you'd just go on until you started crying

He'd have you meet his gaze through the mirror, making you stare deep into his beautiful blue eyes asking if you truly trust him, if you nod yes, he'll tell you how he truthfully finds every part of you attractive, how alluring you've been from the first moment he laid eyes on you and how you should discard other people's thoughts

"You truly are the most stunning thing I've ever seen"

Makarov

He did find it strange how you'd gradually become quiet the longer you were around people, and then when you came back home you'd immediately go to the mirror and smile and practice different facial expressions in front of it

When he asks you what you're doing, you simply wave him away, you're only trying to see what you looked like when you were talking to people, did you really look like that? And suddenly you notice other things

Until you're convinced you shouldn't really smile so wide or talk so much, but all it takes is Makarov and his rare tenderness to make you forget about it and feeling good again

He sees no blemishes on you, and you allow yourself to tell you whatever he wants as he drags you away from the mirror and pulling you into bed with him, spooning you, whispering into your ear how you're better than all those insufferable leeches anyways

And for the next time you're getting ready, you receive a questionable amount of compliments from the help Makarov keeps around the house, did he tell them to do that?

Keegan

Keegan wouldn't have known you were being self-conscious around him if it weren't for the fact that you started changing when you were alone, you no longer let him stare at you too long, afraid he'd see something he wouldn't like

You were always trying to turn away or cover yourself if he came into a room when you weren't dressed, yelling at him to get out, except he doesn't care and ignores you anyways as he settles into bed or he holds your hands so you can't cover your face when he leans in closer to get a look at your face

"Hey, don't hide from me" as he turns you to face him, his eyes impossible to part from as he stares deeply into yours, trying to find that fear so deeply rooted in you and pull it out, no one should reach this low, and he'd be a damn fool to let it get to you

He wouldn't want to lose you to this disquietude

König

He very much understands and notices when you're feeling self-conscious, he often feels it too, awkward and unsure of himself when around others, with you though, he forgets about that feeling entirely

Obviously, he's going to do something when you're starting to feel like that, first thing is searching for a place where there is less people, the air gets heavy rather quickly when there are too many people which only makes things worse especially if there's a crowd of people

Doesn't really say much as you both settle into a bench, he's not even sure you noticed that he did it intentionally, he kind of fiddles with his hands nervously but he sits there for a moment, watching the scenery with you, until you lean into him

He's surprised but welcomes it, bringing an arm around your shoulder, "König?" and he responds with a hum, "Do you think... other people think I'm weird?"

Seriously? That's what you were worried about? As if his entire being hasn't always been clumsy and sheepish when around others, yet he still somehow managed to bag you, he snorts, if you're weird he can't imagine what word would be used to describe him

Horangi

He might not fully understand the anxiety that comes with feeling like everyone is constantly watching and judging everything you do or how you look, if anything he quite enjoys the feeling of having eyes on him, especially yours

But he notices how whenever he stares at you a little too long to the point you notice, your reaction gradually shifts from giving a timid and bashful smile to full on embarrassed, he doesn't understand, you're deserving of attention, so why don't you enjoy it?

You do end up explaining how much it bothers you, but there's a long list of things you're always taking notice of, isn't it weird how you walk? Don't you tend to look around too much at people? Is it only you who has an awkward interaction with someone every single time you go out? It's only you, right?

Again, he had never taken notice of these things, seeing as he's learned to take pride in how he carries himself and how he does things, he tells you people don't actually care, no one pays attention long enough to notice

Which is unfortunate really, why doesn't anyone else ever notice that spark in your eye, or that distinctive mark on you? Such a pity no one will ever get to look at you like how he does, maybe he's lucky because he has you all to himself

Nikto

He doesn't even notice what you're constantly worrying about, you've overlooked every scar of his, so why would you ever feel the need to worry about how others perceive you? Especially when it comes to him? It's not unusual of him anyways, you have to point things out for this guy to even take notice of

He sees you staring into the mirror and thinks nothing of it, sees you pull your shirt down every time you sit and again dismisses it, sees you looking uncomfortable when pictures are being taken, fine with him he hates them too

Until you're up at night thinking and he's in bed next to you ready to rest until your voice comes out shaky, frail as if on the verge of tears asking if he really even likes you

Needless to say, he's confused, tired and only grunts in response as he pulls you, snaking an arm around your waist and trapping you in his arms, when you try to move he just shushes you and tells you to sleep

You go to sleep not knowing he's still awake, staring gently at you as he caresses your hair

[xmoriartea]

SVSSS!Sibling Transmigration 2: Electric Boogaloo

a continuation of this nonsense that ya'll seemed to enjoy

While Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe hold hands and jump into the abyss, Airplane is left holding no pizza with the sect on fire (and him-damnit. He could really use a pizza right now)

Shang Qinghua helped organize the Immortal Alliance Conference fiasco, but with his brother's guidance and Mobei Jun's shocking willingness to listen to both of them, Cang Qiong suffers only two losses that day: LBH and SY (none of the other major sects are so lucky, shifting even more power into Cang Qiong (and thus SQH/MBJ)'s sway as they planned)

Shen Jiu (named Qingqiu now ofc, but still Jiu-ge to SY) does not handle his part in this well at all. Did he shove LBH into the abyss? He would say no. He just maneuvered an awakening and unstable Heavenly Demon away from his brother. (Bro did NOT account for said brother to throw himself at LBH and basically take both their asses into the abyss. Not even Airplane saw that one coming tbqfh)

So yeahhh. SJ is not handling this well. While his brother is missing SJ qi deviates no less than two times which has Qing Ding and every peak lord walking on eggshells. No one mentions either of his missing disciples unless absolutely necessary around him. Unfortunately, he spends entirely too much time researching the abyss, tearing through every tome on the peaks

When the lords try to discuss a way to help SJ's instability, the mention of dual cultivation is floated once and while YQY is hand on the trigger to volunteer as tribute, the vehement refusal from SJ has YQY declaring it off limits without hesitation (there are some murmurs about this, but YQY takes pride in protecting SJ and shuts everyone down)

Airplane and SY know each other well enough that he knows SY would be devastated if something happened to SJ (he knows SY had siblings, that he misses them, that his heart aches twice for the family here and home and he won't let him come back to an empty bamboo house. Airplane knows the pain of an empty home and he will find something in his brain to fix it)

This leads to one tense conversation with SJ like "Look I know you fucking hate me but for SY's sake please just listen one time: your brother is coming home. I don't know how exactly, but we both know he's too stubborn not to" (this does not endear him to his villain son, but he would swear SJ glares a little less at him after)

There is then a Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom tier research saga but it's Airplane alone digging through tomes and notes and getting a little xianxia stoned to try and remember the obscure world building he created. (You know what he remembers? That's he created TOO MUCH world building shit while three energy drinks deep at 2am for any one man to remember!! Cucumber-bro get back here!!)

Meanwhile MBJ is playing a differently game entirely while every cultivator is stressed out of their minds. He's got a spy who is assisting him with power grabs that his father would never have imagined. He's courting a pathetic little mouse of a man. LBH is not a name that means anything yet. MBJ is THRIVING. Everyone else is in a drama and he's in a dating sim

And with two Shangs? The first time he does something too aggressive-demonic in his attempt to court a flailing sleep deprived Airplane, SQH is there to be like 'wtf do you think you're doing you beast?' Does SQH nearly get his ass beat for this insult to his king? Maybe a little bit. But!! Airplane gets woo'd! Without bloodshed!! (his own anyway. SQH picks his battles and cannot pry MBJ's desire to hunt big, rare game to prove his worth as a partner to Airplane which ofc leads to moments of the Shang brothers just standing over the corpse of some ancient-possibly-mythical beast just... in their living room on An Ding like 'wtf do we do with this? my king pls')

Of course, the plot finds everyone eventually. And however the fuck it happens, MBJ crosses path with a power-grabbing LBH, is forced to surrender to return home alive to his consort-to-be (MBJ is waiting for the MBJ title to be 100% his before cementing the courtship), becomes second in command to this brat, and goes home to his Shangs to lick his wounds (MBJ does not expect Airplane to shake his face and demand to know if there was a human cultivator with this half-demon brat and then demand to be taken to them if so when MBJ just 'wtf' stares)

Turns out, several years in the abyss even for the protagonist and a man who knows far too fucking much about abyss nuances for a human is still not an easy time Being human in the abyss? It's a dinner bell for every big monster that SY wants to just observe like the worst tourist. LBH cannot figure out why his shixiong keeps putting himself in danger like this (shixiong!! if you know the deadly thing is hiding in this swamp what if!!! we didn't!! go in the goddamn swamp shixiong!!!) But! That abyss knowledge is hard to beat. SY is able to guide LBH through safe routes and help guide him on his demonic journey (LBH ofc asks how his shixiong knows about any of this and SY panic changes subjects like a dozen times. Even in the back of LBH's head Meng Mo is like 'kid IDFK what this brat is but it's not normal and I need you to 1. understand that and 2. do not let him get away') And you know what is great for SY (and by extension LBH)? SY isn't juggling a persona that isn't his. He's allowed to come to terms with himself and his feelings on his terms. He gets to watch his white lotus LBH fight alongside him in the abyss and save his life and oh. OH. Maybe. Maybe he can have this? (SY being SY is still like PLOT EXISTS!! HAREM!! WIVES!! And look. He figures his own shit out a little bit, he's still a blind bastard. He doesn't notice how many wife plots he and LBH have stumbled into together, or how many LBH has skipped entirely. He can just be part of the harem, that's fine. He can live with that. Totally normal thoughts) LBH meanwhile can't even spell harem cause he only has eyes for this weird wonderful shixiong of his Given that the plot is a mess (happening, sure, but a MESS) they stumble into a new wife plot in the abyss (How was SY supposed to know full humans triggered nonsense plots down here?? It's not like LBH's human wives were ever down here with him!!) and so SY might be dying a second time. (Whoops! Whoops! Whoops! (Hey System? STFU if you have nothing useful to offer thank you!!!) But you know what could help this mortal cultivator trapped in the abyss? Demon qi. You know who has a lot of demon qi he doesn't know what to do with?? Best boy Binghe, that's who (they're both young and awkward and SY is dying and Binghe can't lose him. He can't be left alone again. It's declaration and promise and hope and when he kisses his shixiong he wills the transfer of qi between their lips and he can feel the way SY grows stronger in his arms with it) Let's just say that even when they clear the realm of the abyss that threatened SY, LBH still persistently insists that his shixiong share his qi mwah! (SY does not put up half as much complaint as he once might have over his sticky shidi) Also you know SY is going to find some horrific abyssal monstrosity and decide it's just the best and cutest most perfect and loyal pet (it's an honest to god nightmare and everyone they encounter is afraid of it and Binghe shoots it glares whenever it steals his shixiong's affections HOW DARE??) With SY's omnipotent abyss GPS sense and LBH sharing his excess of demon qi with SY, they're able to find Xin Mo, break the seal on LBH's powers, and then continue on his training montage (definitely too unstable to go back to the mortal realm early), also he has a fantastic anchor in SY at his side to soothe the Xin Mo urges and (don't ask shidi, pls he's begging) also teach him how to tame the sword

Cut back to several years of time passing, Airplane squishing his king's face, demanding to know about a human cultivator with this heavenly demon only for MBJ to (still face squished) say he wouldn't call the man at LBH's side human per se but if this is what his Airplane wants, he will take him with him to the meeting LBH has arranged for the following day (now please, let him pout and huff and receive head scritches)

Hey you know how people always get taken aback by Xie Lian being just absolutely filled with ghost qi??? SY is a cultivator, not a god, just a lad trying his best to follow that immortal master path, and he just spent SEVERAL years in the abyss and getting regularly dosed by HEAVENLY demon qi — this boy ain't right anymore, guys. He's definitely feeling some kind of demon-tier different™ after all of this and man is THRIVING because Now That's What SY Calls Lore

Please imagine heavenly demon LBH with a demon-touched SY holding demon court with their weird demon allies when MBJ shows up flanked by two totally human Shangs and the just.... the awkward staring these four members of Cang Qiong do at each other (LBH, oblivious to the spy on the mountain plots, just 'why tf is Shang-shixiong and Shang-shifu here??) (SQH looking at LBH and SY and just taking furious mental notes about these Developments and how this may affect his brother's safety) (SY and Airplane just seconds away from slapping the shit out of each other like cats in a bag just 'where the fuck have you been???' 'what have you done???')

Court gets to proceed as planned, but Consorts Shen and Shang make hasty exits together to figure out just what the fuck has been happening to Airplane's plot (There is minimal sibling-tier beat downs in the process and neither is free from sin)

Airplane explains that SJ is a mess and that they need to do something if SY wants to continue having a brother ('bro, he will go off the deep end soon if he doesn't find you but if he finds you like this BRO WILL GO OFF THE DEEP END!! DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEM??')

Their scheming gets them on the idea the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom and between both their whipped demons, it's very easy to acquire it, cultivate it, and prepare it for SJ (ofc monster loving son SY shares some with a cute snake he sees, obviously)

SY sneaks onto Qiong Ding with their near ready science project and meets with YQY who is... not thrilled with the demonic influence all over his shidi's brother. But he listens, because end of the day they both care for SJ. SY can't risk SJ having another deviation if he sees him, so he entrusts YQY to present this fix to SJ: a way to repair his broken core and shed the scars of his past (ofc they both know he will be suspicious, but after doing his own research, he would take it in a heartbeat)

When SJ has a shiny new and powerful body, that's when LBH and SY return to the sect. No demon army, no attacks, no Huan Hua bs. Just two lost disciples making their return from the abyss. (There is much distrust. SQH plays his role as well as ever, siding with the other lords that certain tests must be passed to ensure they are not demons--- oh wait one of you IS a demon. and the other has been influenced by that one. Mhhh. Mhmmm. This is fiiiiiine)

SJ doesn't deviate! But he is! Mad! There is much yelling and shouting and disciples are made to run around Qiong Ding peak while every other lord just has to sit through the most chaotic family reunion.

But things can go back to normal from here right? Just casual transmigration, not plot threats? (System? System you're laughing. They're having a nice moment and you're laughing)

[stawbeemilk]

⤷ when they're jealous – hq

✩ characters: various

✩ warnings: none

✩ a/n: sorry for being so inactive lately, i've been busy working on my ac island hehe

⭑ gets possessive

this guy is definitely the jealous type. as much as he tries not to, he always ends up letting his emotions get the best of him, and whenever he happens to catch someone else hitting on you he can't help but become all possessive over you. once he notices them getting a little too close for his liking he won't hesitate to approach the two of you, immediately interrupting the conversation by asking you who they are, and making sure to refer to you by a pet name as a not so subtle way of letting the other person know exactly who you belong to. gets super clingy with you afterwards, refusing to leave your side and making sure everyone around you knows that you're his.

⤷ kageyama, yaku, kuroo, yahaba, semi, futakuchi, atsumu

⭑ acts unbothered

pretends he doesn't care, but on the inside he's furious. he can't help but narrow his eyes at the other person, watching as you erupt into laughter at one of their jokes— even though it wasn't really that funny. once the interaction is over he'll try his best to keep up the act, finding himself becoming more reserved than usual as he attempts to hide the fact that someone else flirting with you made him far more irritated than he’d like to admit. it isn't until you call him out on his obvious jealousy that he gets all embarrassed, shocked that you noticed so easily because he genuinely believed that he was being subtle. he will probably try to deny it, but deep down he knows it's pointless as you somehow manage to always see right through him.

⤷ tsukishima, kenma, kunimi, sakusa, washio, suna, shirabu

⭑ ready to throw hands

will definitely try to fight anyone who dares to hit on you, to the point where he's basically your own personal guard dog. not only will he refuse to tolerate anyone flirting with you, he won't let them get away with looking at what's his either. as soon as he realises someone has been staring at you for a little too long, he'll be quick to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into him, all while glaring daggers at the person who had the nerve to shamelessly check you out like that. he might get a little defensive about it afterwards, especially if you start teasing him, but whenever someone starts eyeing you up and down like that he just can't stop himself from getting protective of you, simply because he hates the thought of anyone making you uncomfortable.

⤷ kyotani, iwaizumi, tanaka, konoha, aran, nishinoya, matsukawa

⭑ feels insecure

it's not that he believes you would ever be unfaithful, because he trusts you completely— it's just that deep down he thinks you're too good for him and that you could do way better. when he sees someone else trying to flirt with you he can't help but feel a little nervous, insecure thoughts plaguing his mind as he begins worrying that he's not good enough for you. he probably won't say anything to you about it afterwards, but you don't miss the sad look in his eyes or the way he appears to be trapped in his own thoughts. you know by now that he needs a lot of reassurance due to his tendency to overthink, and so you always remind him that he's good enough at times like these when you know he needs to hear it the most.

⤷ akaashi, koganegawa, asahi, hanamaki, tendou, yamaguchi

⭑ super touchy with you

whenever he gets jealous he finds himself unable to keep his hands off you. he's definitely the type to wrap his arms around your waist when you're in the middle of a conversation with someone else, hugging you from behind and leaning his head on your shoulder. it always manages to catch you off guard, wondering why he's being so affectionate with you all of a sudden, but with the way he scowls at the other person and pulls you into him it doesn't take you long to figure out that he's jealous. he won't be able to keep his hands off you for the rest of the day, asking you for cuddles or wanting to hold your hand, and pouting when you start making fun of him for it.

⤷ bokuto, oikawa, sugawara, osamu, hinata, lev, daishou

⤷ please do not repost my works on any other sites!

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

im fucked, i know - roy kent

warnings; swearing, smutty references, angst, accusations, fightings

summary; an article is written about some of the soft things roy does for you, and he assumes you're at fault.

a/n; first time writing for this beauty. considering a smutty part 2 if y'all want it :)

"Tell me the truth," Roy said, "Did you go to the reporters to tell them all about our homelife, huh?"

"For the last time, no I didn't."

You refused to react, because you really hadn't gone to the paps. You wanted your privacy as much as Roy did, maybe even more than Roy did, on account of never being famous and never wanting to be. But you loved him, and sacrificing a little piece of your anonymity was worth the love and and joy he brought you.

You were not, however, feeling love and joy right now.

"Well then how the fuck did they know all that, eh?? This article has shit that only you would know."

You were backed into the counter, his arms of either side of you, gripping the ledge of the granite, in a way that would normally excite you, and well still not intimidated or scared, you weren't exactly feeling good about it. Your arms crossed tightly across your chest.

On Saturday morning, an article had been published about 10 things the public didn't know about retired football legend, Roy Kent. Small things, like he liked being the little spoon, how he was hoping and praying for a little girl of his own soon, how he was absolute enchanted by you, willing to cater to your every whim. It made him look so soft, which he was, but the whole fucking world didn't need to know that.

You'd fought all Saturday, then slept as far apart as possible in complete silence, before fighting again all day today, but it was worse, it was like he was trying to force a confession out of you.

"Yeah that's my fucking prerogative, I waited until we dated for five full years before I went and blabbed to a bunch of fucking reporters telling them about how you like to be the little fucking spoon."

"Fuck!!" He shouted, pushing off the counter and turning around, hands rubbing harshly across his own cheeks.

"I'm going to bed," you said, "I think you should sleep in one of the other rooms tonight. The way you're accusing me, and talking to me... I just don't want to sleep next to you."

Roy looked over your face, noting the way your lip quivered. He was torn, his instinct said to grab you and pull you close and apologize and beg to come to bed, but his rage, his frustration, told him that you'd done the one thing he hated most, crossed the boundary most precious to him.

"I'll do you one fucking better," he said, picking his jacket up from the back of a chair, and leaving the house, slamming the door behind him loudly.

When you heard his stupid car start, your shoulders dropped from their defensive position, and the tears rolled quickly down your cheeks. You hadn't done anything. You'd been in all Friday while Roy went to the pub with the team, drinking and celebrating freely for the beginning of the off season.

Usually this was a time of bliss for the two of you, Roy allowed himself two full weeks of time devoted to the relationship before carrying on with off season training. Normally at this point, the two of you would be shamelessly rolling around in bed, and when you were panting, sweaty and recovering, still wrapped up in his arms, you'd discuss where to spend a weeks vacation. Because you, being the ever supporting partner, took the same vacation time.

You phone beeped with a text from Roy.

Lock the fucking door before you go upstairs. Goodnight.

You sighed, wiping the tears off your cheeks before locking the door, and dragging yourself to your room. Stripping off your clothes from the day, you pulled on one of Roy's shirts, and sobbed into your pillow, chasing a nights sleep that would surely evade you.

"Let me sleep in your fucking house," Roy said, staring at a confused Jamie, who didn't say anything but let Roy in anyway. He could've gone to his sisters house, but she would've asked a million questions. And he didn't want Pheobe to see him at this level of mad. "Fuck," Roy mumbled, checking his phone again to see if you said goodnight back.

You didn't.

"Alright, Royo?"

"If I was fucking alright would I be in your fucking stupid house asking to sleep in your stupid fucking guest room and not- stop fucking looking at me with that stupid fucking face!"

"We can talk tomorrow," Jamie said, "you are not regular grandpa mad right now you are just beyond."

"Fuck off," Roy said, checking his phone again.

Did you see the text? Did you lock the door? Should he call and check?

"Unless you want to talk now? I can put on-" Jamie was cut off by a glare he'd never seen before, it made him want to cower away from it. In all their years training and hating each other and becoming friends, he'd never seen a glare quite like that before. "Okay, night."

As Jamie scurried off down the hall, door closing with a little more force than intended, Roy let his face drop.

Was he wrong? What the fuck was going on? He couldn't imagine a world where you called up the paps and told them how he can't sleep without hearing you say goodnight first. About how he can't truly get comfortable at hotels until he knows you're safe in bed from whatever you were doing that day. Not that you couldn't be out or like he had any say about that but just... he liked to know when you got home after. But no one else knows that shit, that's his personal shit, shit he only shared with you.

Roy wandered over to Jamie's couch, not caring enough to make it to the guest room, and kicked his trainers off, flopping onto the furniture without even taking his jacket off.

Still no text.

After debating calling you to make sure you had stayed in and gone to bed, and saw his text to lock the door, he decided not to. Not that it could, but he didn't want to risk things getting any worse. Was bad enough, really.

Instead, he scrolled back in your messages, looking for a video you'd sent him while he was at the last away game.

But he wasn't after any of the ... intimate ones. He needed a certain one. A specific one, and when he found it, he played it over and over until he could trick his brain into falling asleep.

A simple video, you holding your phone on your face, saying "Goodnight love, miss you. Can't wait to see you tomorrow, and I love you!!"

He played the video until his phone died.

In the morning, Roy woke up to Jamie tip toeing around his kitchen. Roy groaned, his knee fucking aching from the stiff position he'd slept in, for the few hours he even managed to sleep.

"Oh," Jamie froze, "sorry didn't meant to wake you but I'm starvin," he mumbled, "Hungry?"

"No," Roy grunted, stretching out his leg and trying to hold in his grunts of pain. Fuck this couch.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Why the fuck would I want to talk about it with you?"

"Jesus, relax geezer. I figured if ya girl couldn't make you feel better I could at least try. What happened? You guys fight?"

Roy grunted, nodding slightly. Roy weighed his options... go home and fight again, or see if Jamie could help.

"Was it about the article?"

Another grunt. Another nod.

"Awh, mate. Don't take it so hard, everyone makes mistakes. I know she's a private one, was she mad?"

Roy scrunched his eyebrows together. "Why would she be mad?"

Jamie looked confused, "Dunno, cos she hates attention like tha?"

"If that were true she wouldn't have fucking told everyone that shit," Roy mumbled. He realized choosing to talk to Jamie about this was stupid, what does Jamie know about privacy? What does Jamie know about fucking anything?

"Erh, Royo..."

"Fuck this," Roy grunted, standing up but grunting as his knee gave him trouble. He started jamming his feet into his trainers.

"Coach listen," Jamie started again, but Roy just grunted, ignoring him.

"She'll tell the truth today and say sorry, sure of it, hates sleepin' alone."

"Wait, listen to me, seriously." Jamie said, standing in Roy's way when he moved for the door. "Did you guys fight because you were mad at her?"

"No shit," Roy said. "She crossed a boundary that I'd made very fucking clear when we started."

"Erh, I dunno how to say this but..." Jamie took a breath, "wait let me uh," he took a few quick steps back, safely out of Roy's reach. He took another deep breath. "You told them reporters all tha'."

"Fuck off," Roy said, face covered in anger. "Like I would ever do that."

"No really," Jamie said, bouncing his weight between both feet as if warming up to flee Roy's rage at any given moment. "Me and Isaac tried to fuckin' corral ya'at the pub but you were drunk, talkin' about 'er all excited to anyone tha' would listen. An' when we tried tellin' ya that you were talkin' to a pap you told us to fuck off. An' we were drunk too so we did."

"No," Roy said, finally. "That's not what happened."

"Call Isaac if you're sure but like... that is what happened."

"No."

Jamie looked sad. "Were ya mean to 'er?"

Roy wasn't even sure if he believed Jamie. Yes, maybe he got drunk enough that Keeley and Colin had to drag him into the uber. And maybe it was the first time in a while that he'd woken up with that bad a hangover. And he wasn't sure how he even got from the car to the bed, but he was in pajamas and you'd made him a big breakfast. And his car had been back in the driveway even though he'd left it at the pub and... he could vaguely remember talking to random people that night. He remembers telling the boys it was ready to get the ring out, and that he was feeling particularly in love with you lately and...

Oh.

Oh no.

Roy sat back on the couch. Right on the very edge, and put his head in his hands.

"Please," he mumbled, with an air of vulnerability that made goosebumps shoot up Jamie's arm. "Tell me you're joking."

"Sorry," Jamie answered. "But 'm not."

"Oh fuck, I'm fucked." Roy didn't move an inch, sat like a stone statue and Jamie didn't know whether to leave him in it or move closer. Jamie stayed perfectly still, worried about making any move.

"I'm so fucking fucked, fuck!"

And suddenly Roy was on his feet. Checking his pockets for his keys, which obviously weren't there, and he cursed and swore and muttered frustrated nonsense as he searched the couch cushions for his keys. And where the fuck was his phone? Ah, forget the phone. Didn't need the phone, needed the fucking keys.

Where the fuck were his keys?????

"Coach?"

"What!?"

Jaime was pointing the leg of the couch, where the keys were poking out.

Roy grunted grabbing them and rushing towards the door. Jamie had to nearly jump out of his way. Before he left he glanced back at the living room, cushions and blankets severely out of place.

"Sorry."

"All good."

Roy moved to leave again but stopped. He looked over his shoulder at Jamie, shirtless and stupid, and Roy muttered, "thanks."

"Anytime, granddad."

When Roy got home, he parked like shit and raced into the house. He was frantic, calling out your name and looking for you. It was still pretty early, but if you had a shit night like he did you'd probably be up. He threw his coat on the floor and slammed the door behind him, harder than he meant to.

"Babe?" he called, taking the stairs two at a time and ignoring the pain in his knee.

But you weren't in the bedroom, or the kitchen, or the bathroom, or the back deck. You weren't here. Roy sat on the floor in the hallway, head buried in his elbow, and knees drawn up to his chest. The ache in his knee didn't even fucking compare to the one in his chest, the one fueled by guilt and regret and remorse, fuck he was such a fucking idiot.

Of course you didn't go blabbing to reporters. Why would you have done that? You've more than proven your loyalty to him, and your relationship. Not that you'd ever needed to prove anything to him. You'd always been there, supporting him when coaching made him nostalgic and sad. Always patient with him when he was being a dick because he was at a different stage in his life.

And you did it without ever making him feel like you were putting up with him. You made him feel like you were just feeling it with him, like you were loving him through it. And then at one sign of trouble he'd turned it at you, made it ugly, didn't let you explain anything, made it nasty.

He had been so, so awful.

And you hadn't deserved any of it.

He blamed you for him getting drunk and telling strangers how much he loved being the little spoon.

At the sound of the door unlocking, Roy's heart skipped a beat, and he was up on his feet quickly, rushing down the stairs to meet you. You were in casual athletic wear, sunglasses covering your face and hair in a ponytail that was sticking out the back of a baseball cap.

"Hi love," he mumbled, throat closing at the sight of you. You didn't smile when you saw him of course, but weren't frowning either. Your face gave away nothing. But when you took the hat and glasses off, he saw what he caused. He saw the red, puffy eyes from too much crying and too little sleep. Saw the cheeks rubbed raw from wiping those tears away.

And he felt sick. What kinda partner had he been?

A really shit one.

"Morning, Roy."

"You weren't here, fuck, got so scared you'd left."

And while yes, you had left the house, you knew what he meant. He meant thought you'd left him.

"After all this time you should know well enough I wouldn't just cut and run from you without trying first." You weren't trying to be mean, but you were just exhausted. You'd slept like shit. "I texted you that I was going for a walk in case you came home."

Roy didn't know what to say to that, he never did find his phone at Jamie's and just left without it. He was dying to pull you into a hug. Desperate to feel you in his arms, feel your heartbeat against his. But he had no right, not until he told you the truth.

"It was me," he said suddenly. "On Friday when I was drunk I was talking to some reporter. I didn't know I did that, and I was shit to you. I was so fucking shit to you and I'm so sorry. I'm so so fucking sorry, you didn't deserve me berating you for one fucking minute and I did it for a whole weekend. And I wasn't listening to you and I was a shit partner and I'm sorry, love, I'm so sorry. Couldn't fucking sleep proper after fighting and it just made my temper worse and Jamie kept looking at me with that stupid empathy face and..."

"Roy, you've gotta take a breath." you said, putting your hands on his arms, the first time he'd felt you touching his skin in days, made him shut up and frown, just looking down at you.

He took a few deep breaths. And instead of talking more he just grabbed your hips, pulling you into him. You let out an 'oof' as you were pushed into his chest. His lip trembled as he held you, trying not to let you see it, but you just knew he was close to crying, could feel his fingers trembling as his hands spread out over your back.

"We'll talk about it, love."

"No, don't please..." Roy sighed, "please don't be nice to me, be mad at me."

"I can be nice and mad at the same time."

Roy huffed, squeezing you tighter against him for a second before pulling away gently, just enough to look down at you again. The sight of you, light pout on your lips, eyes hurting from his actions, made his heart feel like it was imploding in on itself.

"I'm really sorry," he said, voice a soft and gentle whisper.

"We'll figure it out," you said, "We have two weeks together, I'm sure you'll pull together some grand gesture to make me feel better."

"The grandest. So grand you'll be embarrassed of it. They'll write a movie about it."

You laughed, softly and not your full, happy laugh. But enough to give Roy enough sense to know things will be okay.

"I'm going to shower," you said, "maybe when I get out we can have tea together and talk about it, okay? Maybe they're will be a chocolate croissant from that place I like..."

"Chocolate croissants, got it, yes, there will be." He grabbed you cheeks, kissing your forehead, then both temples, then both cheeks, then he splattered a barrage of kisses from the cheek to your ear, trying to convey all his love and apologies and affections with the sweets pecks.

You laughed again, a laugh closer to your real one, and pushed him off, slipping out of his arms and walking towards the stairs to shower.

Before you could get to far Roy called out to you again, and you looked at him. "We'll be okay, right? You and me?"

"Of course we will," you said, "If we broke up just because you were an idiot we wouldn't have made it one week."

Roy laughed.

He bought ten croissants from that place you like.

[mistyheartrbs]

i'm sure i'm not the first person to take issue with this (checks notes) 25-year-old episode but WOW do i hate riley and how they wrote him off in 5x10.

from the beginning he's a character out of place in buffy. he's condescending at best, chauvanistic at worst, all while the narrative insists he's Really A Good Guy! he's Really Secretly Good and he just Didn't Know that demons had feelings! the initiative plot drags s4 down and every scene he's in makes the show feel like molasses. he's not funny, he's not cool, he's not complex or layered either. btvs is generally pretty good at adding new characters to the scooby gang and making it feel natural - oz, anya, tara, spike to a degree, even dawn - but riley is a drag through and through, a character from another show.

and there is the potential for something interesting there! dropping an all-american macho military man into the very woman-centric world of buffy, seeing how he fares. a fitting (if trite) plot for riley would have been he's initially protective of buffy, then realizes she's stronger than him and that makes him feel emasculated bc he has like a decade of military programming to overcome and then he overcomes it and accepts that buffy is canonically one of the most powerful people in the world.

and instead we just. don't get that? he never learns and, worse, the episode frames him as being in the right. he's not the one punished for his reckless and actively dangerous behavior (i'm not even going to go into the implications of the vampire brothel thing given that 1) i do not expect a 1990s monster of the week show to be tasteful or nuanced about sex work 2) sarah michelle gellar's delivery of "tell me about your WHORES" was the best part of the episode) bc he goes off and lives his demon-killing dream while buffy's left handling all of this, punished for not forgiving him within like an hour of confronting him.

and buffy herself is a flawed person! she's vindictive and impulsive and materialistic, she holds others to a strict moral code she herself doesn't always uphold, she runs hot and pushes her friends away because she thinks she can carry the world on her shoulders. these are all things that make her interesting and give her foils, and that COULD have made for some really interesting tension with duty-bound riley, but instead we get exhausting "you won't let me take care of you :(( i feel bad because you're stronger than me :(((" when he's not actually offered to do much of anything.

5x10 comes so close to genuinely condemning him and addressing the ugliness and misogyny that's been at the root of their relationship from the beginning - buffy calls him out for issuing an ultimatum! - but then xander's brought in to deliver the "message" and buffy has to humiliate herself running after that helicopter.

when spike says that buffy "needs a little monster in her man" he's obviously projecting and talking about himself (and angel) but, at its most generous, what he's saying is exactly right. because buffy has that darkness in her - faith sees it, spike sees it, giles sees it even if he refuses to admit it - and she needs someone to acknowledge it and not try to make her lesser. she needs a sparring partner. riley tries to goad her into hitting him and she refuses because she knows she'll hurt him. he forces her to hold back. and it's horrible that whedon and co try to convince us in this, riley's goodbye episode, that that's something worth chasing a helicopter for.