#he was kind to her so she must accept his explanation

[bitacrytic]

Of course she must stand there and listen.

After he tried to break up with her instead of telling her the truth.

This man, who is very aware of her insecurities, sat there and didn't share his own story. Heard all the disgusting things she went through and didn't think, "hmmm, maybe I should air out my own closet."

She had to force herself into his apartment to be there for him. And even then, she only got a tiny morsel of information BECAUSE HE WAS DELIRIOUS AND THOUGHT HE WAS DREAMING.

Yeah, it's her fault for forgetting that he's human and placing him on a pedestal. But he did this, too. He had months? Weeks? Days? To tell her about his own history. Whether or not it was something to be fixed.

I could have understood his reluctance when they weren't in a relationship. At that time, what was important was her happiness and he focused on that. Good. No problem. But the moment they got together, how did it not occur to him to bring it up?

"Ummm... honey, you know how my gramps is wary of you? Yeah, it's because there's a woman that's been crafted from childhood to be my wife. Lol."

It's not as simple as that, but it is a conversation worth having, given that he knows the intimately disgusting parts of her own history.

He lied to her. He pretended he didn't have anything to worry about. (I won't even talk about how he didn't mention his concerns about dying in ten years to see if it was something they could fix TOGETHER!!! You know? The way they fixed her own problems???)

When we see a woman who was killed by her husband after she found out he was having an affair with her bestfriend, how does it still confuse us that such a woman would want to remove herself from the possibility of this knight-in-shining-amour being another devil?

After all, she thought the sun hung out of Minhwan's ass and he killed her. Who's to say Jihyuk is any different when he has a whole other woman THAT HE NEVER FUCKING TOLD HER ABOUT???????

[underdark-dreams]

It's finally here, all 7k words of it 👀 Thank you for everyone who read chapter 1, and waited so patiently!

[ch1]

Birds and Bees - Ch.2

Rolan isn't usually the type to accept help. In his defense, Tav is very persuasive—and he is very, very desperate.

Tags: Tailplay, Oral Sex, Biting, NSFW | Word Count: 7.7k [Read on AO3]

Rolan didn’t appear again for the rest of the day.

After their awkward exchange this morning, Tav felt she might be somewhat to blame. She tried to recall the bits of Tiefling etiquette she’d picked up from the Elturians; perhaps touching his tail had crossed some sort of line? Either way, the gesture seemed unthinkably forward to her now. 

Then again…Rolan was the one who’d coiled his tail across her desk like that, its tip nearly brushing her hand as she wrote. She’d never seen him do anything like it before. If she didn't know him so well, she’d have found the move almost flirtatious.

At shop’s close, Cal took charge of locking up the front. Tav caught sight of the large iron keyring he carried and realized that it must be Rolan’s. So his brother had checked in on him today, at least—that gave her a modicum of relief.

Lia pitched in to help wipe down all her equipment and carefully fill the many waiting bottles with her cooled elixir. Tav held her tongue from repeating any of the worries she’d made after Rolan during the day—but it seemed her silence was just as damning.

“Stop fussing,” Lia repeated firmly. “Rolan’s just overdue for a rest. I mean, you saw his face.”

“I did.” Rolan had never been the type to slow down or show weakness easily. To Tav, the fact that he’d willingly taken himself to bed worried her more than anything. “Just promise you won't let him turn down a healer if he needs one?”

“If it comes to that, which it won't,” Lia said down to her work. “I promise we’ll find someone, okay?”

Tav kept her tone teasing as she packed away the sealed bottles in their crate. “Hmm, yes…if only you already knew someone with some knowledge of healing.”

Lia let out a bark of laughter. “Trust me, you’re the last person Rolan wants to see right now.”

The sting of those words took Tav by surprise herself. Lia caught their edge too; she pulled up with a grimace, letting a few drops of antidote dribble onto the desk. “Shit, Tav, I didn't mean it like that.”

“It’s okay,” Tav replied, making a fuss of sealing up the filled crate. The thought made her feel rather less than okay, which she didn't want Lia to see. “I think—I don’t know. I feel like I did something rude today, anyway.”

“Oh?” Lia’s tone was light, but she allowed a conspicuous pause to stretch between them. Tav pushed through a twinge of embarrassment to turn to face her.

“Lia, what would you think if I touched your tail?”

Lia glanced up with an eyebrow cocked. “What, right now?”

“No, just—say I did by accident.”

Lia straightened to take a thoughtful inhale. “I mean…it depends on the context. You and I are friends, I wouldn’t think much of it. Unless you grabbed it up by my backside or something,” she added with a laugh. “It wouldn’t be a big deal. If I’m walking somewhere crowded, lots of people might brush against it unless I’m careful.”

Tav had moved around to reset the rest of her clean glassware as she listened, feeling marginally relieved by the explanation.

Then Lia paused her work again. “Are you saying you touched Rolan’s tail?

“You what now?”

With impeccable timing, Cal skidded to a stop at the edge of the conversation, a heavy lockbox under one arm.

Tav glanced between the two of them. “Yes?” The word came out as a question somehow; her mouth went dry as they stared at her. “Like you said, I didn't think it was a big deal. He laid it on my desk while I was working, so I just kind of—” She mimed a little picking-up motion with her hand.

The siblings exchanged a significant look with each other. 

“What?” Tav felt her face burning and knew the color must be noticeable to either of them. “How does it being Rolan’s tail make it different?”

Cal turned back to her with a frown. “What do you mean he laid it on your desk?”

“I don't know, damn—clearly I’m no expert!” She flailed her arms out a bit. “I just turned around and it was sitting there by my hand, all right?”

Another shared glance.

“That explains it,” Cal decided. It earned him a swift pinch on the arm from his sister. “Ow, hey—”

Tav looked between them again, trying to translate. “Explains what? Seriously, if I offended Rolan somehow, I want to kn—”

“You didn’t,” Lia cut in firmly. “This one here's just an idiot. It’s harder to control your tail when you're sick or tired, and Rolan’s been both, that’s all. I'm sure it was a mistake. And he shouldn't have minded you moving it,” she finished with a decisive nod.

With that, Lia snatched up the filled crate from her with one arm and grabbed her brother’s sleeve with the other. Cal stumbled slightly as she pulled him along, but he wisely held his tongue as they headed for the back stockroom. The hinges creaked shut behind them both.

Tav was left standing alone in the cavernous interior of Sorcerous Sundries, beside the desks that she and Rolan used to comfortably share—not sure if she should feel better or worse.

—

The next morning, Rolan was once again nowhere to be found.

He hadn’t even conjured his projection the way he usually did when occupied with research in the Tower. It was a shame; the shop was unusually busy by midday, and Cal and Lia worked without pause. When she could, Tav left her alchemy just to lend a hand with customers or make runs to the supply room.

She found herself worried to the point of irritation. Was Rolan really so stubborn that he wouldn’t take a potion? Or accept healing from someone he’d claimed was a trusted friend and colleague? She tried and failed not to be hurt by it.

Then again, Rolan had always been the type to shoulder his way through awful things alone while firmly turning down help—particularly from her. His apprenticeship, most recently. The memory made her radiantly angry on his behalf even now.

“Shit—” 

Tav jerked away from the flask and sucked on her freshly scalded thumb. She must have the ratios off again; this recipe wasn’t new to her, but the nuances had escaped her all morning. These sublimates shouldn’t get nearly so hot when mixed.

Might as well admit defeat and review the recipe before she wasted yet another bunch of black oleander. Surely there was a reference text somewhere in Rolan’s library?

Tav glanced around to the front of the shop. Cal was recording a sale at the front desk; Lia was chatting with a very large half-orc over near the conjurement runes. Things seemed well enough in hand. Tav damped the flame at her station and quietly took the stairs for the portal.

For lack of a better word: the library of Ramazith’s Tower was absolutely magical. 

Tav stood breathing in the quiet afternoon sunlight, taking an appreciative look up around her. The collection must be the best one this side of Candlekeep, with all sorts of books on spellcraft, Weave theory, alchemy, religion, the history of Toril—just to scratch the surface. She could think of no hands more deserving than the ones its ownership had fallen into.

Just as Lia mentioned the other day, Rolan had clearly been hard at work reorganizing the place. She ran her fingertips over the books’ spines as she walked around the perimeter of the main floor.

She imagined Rolan with his robe sleeves pushed to his elbows, enthusiastically at work in his book stacks, and bit back a grin. There was something so endearing about his passion for taming disorder. As she walked, she found her gaze drifting to the delicate staircase at the far end of the main floor. It spiraled upward invitingly. 

She’d never been to the upper floors of Ramazith’s Tower—nothing past the library. Certainly she hadn’t stepped foot in any of the private quarters of Rolan or his siblings. She wouldn’t even know which door led to whose.

But her mind wandered readily at the thought of Rolan’s bedroom. What it might look like…smell like. 

No doubt it was packed with shelves of books and scrolls, filled with the scent of fresh parchment and leather-bound volumes. That warm, bookish smell that seemed to be woven into his robes. The fresh hint of cedar from the way he kept his clothes meticulously cleaned and stored. And that other faint spice that she could never identify, but always picked up when he stood close to her.

The same scent that had filled her lungs with dizzy pleasure when he’d hovered close to her yesterday, chin brushing her shoulder and arm circled possessively around her waist— 

She bit her lip as heat pooled between her legs at the memory. She couldn't help it—how very fucking nice it had been to feel Rolan’s elegant hands on her, casually and effortlessly touching, as if he was accustomed to touching her much more often and much more intimately.

It would do no good to dwell on that moment. If anything, the uncharacteristic gesture was just proof of how out-of-sorts Rolan must be feeling. He was her friend, and by all accounts, he’d been too sick to leave his room for days. 

With a sudden burst of determination and a disregard for the consequences, she strode for the stairs.

Taking the curving ascent so rapidly left her dizzy. Tav planted her boots on the landing for a moment, holding onto the railing while she took in her surroundings.

This upper hall was also quietly sunlit, filled with fine carpeting and oak paneled walls; but the atmosphere was somehow less grand than the cavernous library below. More intimate. 

Two doors stood on both ends of the hall. Hazarding a guess, she stepped to the closest one on her left. Its heavy oak panels swung forward with the slightest touch.

Not a bedroom at all, but a bath—and a tremendously fine one at that. All the fixtures seemed to be wrought from polished gold. Underneath a towering stained glass window stood the deepest, widest clawfoot tub she’d ever seen.

As she gazed around, Tav caught sight of her reflection in a large glass above the sinks. Her hair was all frizzy flyaways from a day over her potion work. Indulging a bit of vanity, she paused to tame it with her fingers.

One of Rolan’s many endearing habits was his dedication to fastidiousness. Never a hair out of place, horns polished and shining, robes immaculately pressed—knowing him, with a bit of the Weave.

She must look like some sort of wild hedge witch by comparison. Tav had never minded life in the wilds as a wayward adventurer, even after the Elder Brain was felled to the Chionthar. It was part of what drew her to the career of a traveling alchemist. 

But there were moments…most of them in this Tower, with Rolan and his siblings. Sharing a meandering dinner at a real table with actual chairs. Sitting with Rolan out on the starlit balcony, discussing blood alchemy over a glass of wine as they watched the harbor.  

Tav forced her hands still and stared back at her reflection. 

“What do you want?” She muttered to herself. The Tav in the mirror had no answer. But in her mind, one softly bloomed.

Over the past months, her feelings had tumbled forward faster than she could keep up with them. Seeing Rolan, talking with him about anything and everything, working beside him in quiet moments—she found those were the moments she looked forward to most.

His offer to turn one of the Tower’s empty vaults into a greenhouse for her. Essentially giving her a permanent place in his home, if she wanted it. Was it stupid to hope that he wanted more, too?

As she stood frozen silent in the confines of her lavish surroundings, a muffled sound came from her right.

She hadn't noticed the second door past the bathtub; presumably connecting to one of the bedrooms. She realized it most likely led to Rolan’s.

She stepped toward the heavy oak paneling and raised a hand to knock. As she did, more muffled noises came from within. Tav hesitated, questioning whether she should—then leaned in to press one ear to the wood.

There were the sounds of labored breathing, as if from pain or exertion. She strained her ear harder. There was something almost…rhythmic in it.

And then—she could swear—she heard Rolan's voice groan her name aloud.

A shock of heat ran through her chest, prickling up her neck and diving between the cleft of her legs. The rapid, hot ache at her core made her gasp out in surprise, then clap a hand to her mouth lest he heard. She felt her cheeks burning with realization.

Whatever she had expected to find by wandering up here…this had never been on the list. All she saw in her mind’s eye was Rolan, sweating and panting and desperate. And that thought filled her with overwhelming want in response.

Tav pushed herself back from the door with a jolt. She turned and ran, not knowing or caring whether the ring of her footsteps on tile carried past the door. Her pulse pounded against her ears as she rushed out of the room and back for the staircase. 

Even before Tav’s foot hit the third stair, she knew she was headed for the Elfsong. And a very stiff fucking drink.

—

Day passed to night and back to day again in a feverish jumble. Like a vessel adrift in a vast ocean, Rolan was passed along wave after wave of searing impulse.

Had his ruts always been this overwhelming, and he’d just forgotten? Or was there something different about the drives this time around? 

Even the little dignities were stripped away, one by one. He began by conjuring mage hands at first, but his concentration faltered too many times at the cusp. He finally just settled for his own grip. Desperate sounds rose in his chest each time he neared his next finish, the likes of which he’d never utter voluntarily.

And he quickly gave up on clothes altogether. He lay naked and spread-eagle on his sheets and tried to sleep when he could, before his demanding cock inevitably twitched back to life again. The fever turned his dreams shockingly lewd whenever he did manage to drift off.

By sunset, another strong wave of need was pulsing through his core, demanding his attention. Rolan lay back against his pillows and groaned open-mouthed as he stroked himself.

Even slick with oil, the friction between his hand and the raw, overstimulated ridges of his cock bordered on painful. His finish danced out of reach to the back of his mind.

With an impatient growl, he flipped over to his knees and snatched up a feather pillow, folding it into a sleeve for his cock. A crude solution—but with his first few thrusts, the cool softness of the silk caused a moan of relief to rise in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fucked his own pillow in a desperate chase for relief.

And behind his eyelids, there she was again.

Tav appeared there so easily now. He’d tried to fight it at first—ashamed to be using her like this, without her knowledge or consent—but he found that nothing satisfied his urges so well as when he pictured her on his cock.

So he closed his eyes and imagined Tav…pliant, eager, hungry. Legs spread and center dripping with desire for him. The shameful depth of his need faded away as he fantasized her own. How her eyes might shine as she panted and gasped under him, calling him by name and begging him to fuck her and fill her and mark her as his—

What would she sound like as he took her? He conjured the timbre of her voice, always warm and musical, now canting to a whine as the ridges at his base slammed against her with each thrust.

Pressure coiled rapid and hot at his loins. Rolan slid off the mattress with legs braced, the pillow cast aside, and tugged frantically at his stiff length again. His tail arched and flicked behind him.

Through clenched eyelids he saw Tav laid at the foot of his bed, hair splayed in a messy crown against his sheets as she cried out his name. Her legs crossed behind his flanks to hold him deep inside her tight wet heat—

‘Rolan—’ She moaned louder, her heels digging into his lower back as he took her. Tav gripped two handfuls of the bedding underneath as he thrust relentlessly, chasing more of her heat around his cock, more of the delicious scent at her throat and between her legs—

“Rolan!”

“Fuck—” With a strangled gasp, Rolan’s hips stuttered one last time as his come spilled in ropes to the floor. Panting and shaking, he caught hold of the bed post with one hand as he frantically worked out the rest of his finish with the other. His head spun with the force of it.

But as he opened his eyes and his vision cleared, so did that cottony feeling in his ears. Someone was rapping insistently on the door to his room.

“Rolan, we need to talk—” Even muffled by the heavy wood, Tav’s voice was unmistakable.

“Fuck,” Rolan hissed again, this time with enough wits about him to panic. How much of that last performance could she hear through the door? He snatched up the nearest towel to wipe himself, then tripped away toward the pile of clothes on the floor that had lain untouched since yesterday.

“Go away,” he called tersely, nevertheless yanking the trousers up over his hips. Thank hells that last round had left him soft enough he could do up the laces for now.

On the other side of the door, she was undeterred. “I’m not leaving till I’ve seen you.”

Rolan cursed as one of his horns snagged the ties at the neck of his shirt. Once the fabric dropped over his torso, he whirled around to take in the state of his room. 

Bedsheets pulled sideways from the mattress; pillows strewn across the floorboards; air thick with the smell of him. Absolute filthy shambles.

Using a rush of energy he couldn't afford, he cast a mass prestidigitation spell on the space. The improvement in the air was immediate. But the resulting light-headedness caused him to stumble forward; he caught himself with a hand braced on the door frame.

“I'm not joking,” Tav called loudly, unaware he was now much closer.

He could have yelled at her to wait outside for another week, then, if he wasn't so sure she was stubborn enough to actually do so. After all, this was the person who’d defeated an Elder Brain and taken on several gods in the process.

That…and he found he badly wanted to see Tav in the flesh. Hearing her voice from just beyond his bedroom door only increased that desire. Rolan’s tail lashed behind him in helpless frustration.

“What do you want?” He asked instead, lowering his voice. No use broadcasting any more of this conversation to the whole Tower.

There was a pause on the other side of the oak paneling. “I’ve barely seen you since I got here,” Tav’s voice replied, matching his volume.

“And?” 

“And I'm worried about you…obviously,” she added. “Cal and Lia said you’re sick. But I’d feel better if we could talk face to face.” Even through the barrier between them, he could hear a strain in her voice. She wasn't lying. 

Rolan rested his horns against his braced forearm with a sigh. “Tav, I swear I'm perfectly fine.”

“Then just open the door a moment. Please, Rolan?”

It was far too pleasant to hear her say his name outside of his own imaginings. Rolan glanced down at himself. Barefoot, shirt untucked, but technically presentable. And not pitching a tent for once in the past twenty-four hours. 

“If I do, will you leave?” 

There was another pause. “If you want me to,” came the reply. He unbolted the latch and drew it open to shoulder width.

The wave of Tav’s scent hit him almost before he registered her face in front of him. The sweetness of it overwhelmed his other senses for a moment. It tested all Rolan’s limited reserves of sanity not to grab her by the waist and pull her body against him.

Unaware of the silent struggle raging in his chest, Tav stood with face tilted up toward his. Her eyes had traveled over his figure immediately, checking him over with a worried little crease between her brows. Something at the side of his head caught her eye; Rolan realized his hair hung loose and rather sweaty, exposing the slender tips of his ears.

Her demeanor changed at the sight. Tav sighed, leaning her head against the flat of the door.

“You’re even handsome with a fever,” she told him softly.

Rolan blinked at her. Perhaps exhaustion and hormones were driving him to hallucinations. “What are you—”

Faster than he could react, her palms landed on either side of his face, and Tav pulled his mouth down to hers.

A burst of colors exploded behind his eyes; the sensation of her lips moving on his kindled the dormant heat in his body to wild blaze. She notched her hands upward as she kissed him, and her fingers slid up along the sensitive tapers of both his ears.

Rolan let out a hungry, animal sound against her mouth. Both hands landed on her back and crushed the line of her body forward into his, leaving no space between them. He could feel the soft hills of her breasts pressing against his chest through clothing. The warm scent rolling off her skin and hair surrounded him with dizzying force.

The higher part of his mind was screaming at him. Rolan desperately tried to focus on what it was saying; as he did, he caught the tang of wine on her lips. The discovery gave him just enough will to pull back from her.

And he did, with one jerking step back into his chambers. “You can’t be here.”

Tav stood panting through parted lips, eyes half-lidded as they traveled over him. Rolan felt flames lick his skin everywhere they moved.

“Why not?” She breathed. “I wanted to see you.”

“You’re drunk,” he told her. He rather felt that way himself, still reeling from the electricity of kissing her.

Tav pouted at that, and Rolan wished to bite that lower lip firmly between his teeth. “I’m not drunk,” she corrected. “I’ve had a drink. There’s a difference.”

“You wouldn’t be here if—”

“If what?” Tav watched him as she took a step closer. Rolan stepped back in tandem, reflexive. She was well over the threshold now. “If I knew what was really happening to you?”

Those words sounded much more knowing than he liked. Rolan stared at her, trying to read into her face. He swallowed against the dry lump of his tongue and went out on a limb. “Which one of them told you?”

Tav shook her head. “Cal and Lia have been nothing but discreet.” 

“Then how could you possibly understand?” He demanded. The very recent discovery of how soft Tav’s lips were was making it very difficult to maintain this conversation. He could still feel the way her body had pressed into him.

One corner of her mouth twitched. “Rolan, I’d like to think I’m not completely oblivious. There have been…signs. And I’ve had a lot of time to think about them. I’ve been at the Elfsong all afternoon, just—thinking.”

At that, Rolan felt his tail twitching nervously behind him. “I see,” he replied. Pivoting, like an idiot, trying to pretend this was a perfectly acceptable conversation to have with the woman who occupied most of his thoughts when he was pleasuring himself. “And you think that I—that my—”

Tav made a quick twisting motion to get around the door. She latched it and drew the bolt closed behind them, then turned back to him.

“A lot of humans have heard rumors about Tieflings,” she confessed. “Some stupid, but some credible. I’m saying this is maybe not the secret that you think it is.” As he watched, a much deeper blush spread over Tav’s cheeks. She glanced away to the side. 

“Rolan…I grew up in the Dales, remember? Around rabbits, and cattle, and oxen. Half my friends lived on farms.”

Her analogy couldn’t be clearer. To hear her lay it out so plainly—Rolan felt the last dregs of his pride shrivel up and die. He gripped two palms over his eyes and let out a groan of abject humiliation, turning away to the middle of the room. 

How early had she connected the dots? The moment she felt him brazenly place a hand around her? Had she known all along that he was locked up here, rutting into every one of his pillows?

“Look, Rolan, I’m sorry—I didn’t know how else to say it—” 

Completely overwhelmed by his embarrassment, he hadn’t heard her follow. When Rolan finally dropped his hands from his face, he turned to find Tav standing very close to his chest.

“And I’m sorry for kissing you before,” she blurted out. “I mean, I’m not sorry for it…I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, to be honest. But it wasn’t fair. I just…wanted to know how you’d react.”

Rolan watched as her chest rose and fell heavily where she stood. The look in her eyes made his blood pound through his veins. He felt an urge to reach out and smooth back her hair to bring her in for another kiss, one he resisted.

“I care about you,” Rolan told her, before he could lose his nerve. “Our friendship. I respect you, Tav, it’s not worth—muddying things with this.” 

He felt fingers lacing through the ones that hung at his side, and despite his words Rolan tightened his grip automatically. Her hand was so pleasantly cool against the heat of his skin.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Tav answered earnestly. “I care about you, too. If I can help, I want to. Please—”

She was so close to him; Rolan breathed shallowly, but the warm scent rolling off her skin and hair nevertheless swept past him with dizzying force.

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he managed hoarsely.

She didn’t falter. “Then tell me what else you think I should know.”

His senses were growing clouded with her; the offer that had tumbled so easily from her rang in his ears. It made the thread of Rolan’s control stretch dangerously taut.

“I won’t be gentle,” he warned. 

His inadvertent shift in tone changed something in the air between them. There was a crackling energy that hadn't been there a second before.

Tav licked her lips as she watched him. “Good.”

Rolan thought he might melt from the heat that spread across his skin. His tail snapped against the mattress behind him. If she moved a step closer, she’d feel how hard he was in his pants.

“Mating bites,” he went on hoarsely. “I’ll mark you. Quite a lot. I’ll try not to draw blood, but…I can’t promise it.”

Tav nodded. “What else?” She asked, encouraging him to go on. 

Rolan swallowed against the embarrassment. But this was important for her to know. “This time for us, it’s all about…reproduction. We become quite virile.” He nearly choked, but there was simply no other way to put it. “For the urges to pass quicker, I need to come in you.”

Tav let out a throaty hum of approval. His cock twitched in his pants at the sound. “That’s fine, I take preventatives—it’s safe.”

They stood looking at each other for another moment. That shivery, electric feeling buzzed in the air around them. Rolan wondered if she could hear the way his heart drummed against his ribs.

Tav leaned in slightly. “Well…” She said, and her wet tongue passed nervously between her lips again.

That taut thread in his chest snapped in two. Rolan crushed her up against him with a whimper. Arms circling around her waist, he nudged a thigh between her legs and firmly ground their hips together.

Tav matched his eagerness. Their lips crashed together; at the back of his mind, he felt her grip cradling under each of his ears. Her fingertips licked like flame against his scalp.

Even through layers of clothing, he could feel the heat of her. Rolan jerked her hips forward harder against his thigh; the swelling length of his cock pressed against her soft, yielding center. Tav dipped her head back from the kiss, arching into him with a moan, and her fingertips laced at the nape of his neck. 

It offered an irresistible angle at the column of her throat. Rolan’s claws raked back in her hair, pulling it to a tight ponytail. Then he tugged firmly, holding her open as his mouth descended on her neck.

He kissed and sucked along the band of muscle from her ear to the curve of her shoulder, then parted his lips to bite down firmly on her soft flesh. 

“Yes,” Tav moaned in approval above him. Her hips rolled into his, grinding herself against the hard cock straining in his pants. Rolan felt her pulse skip against his mouth. Only when he tasted sweet copper did he pull away, laving his tongue over the crimson pin-pricks of his teeth into her skin.

He took only a moment to admire the trail of marks blooming along her neck. Tav was already pulling him in for another kiss. Their lips crashed together with bruising force; her tongue explored, tasting, searching for proof of her blood against his tongue and moaning against him when she found it.

Her scent filled his mind. Without breaking from her mouth, he plucked open the laces of her pants. Rolan slipped his hand under the waistband, beneath her smalls, and slid two fingers to dip down between her legs. Her folds were shining-slick; as he nudged her in circles, a trickle of her arousal rolled down his fingers. She shivered prettily under his touch.

“You’re soaked,” Rolan groaned against her neck. 

“All because of you,” she breathed without hesitation. “Been wanting this, gods, wanting you for months. Your hands on me—cock in me—”

At the words he withdrew his fingers from her impatiently, then sucked them clean. Her sweet taste on his tongue made his cock ache. She scarcely had time to curse at the sight before Rolan gripped both arms around her waist to lift her into him.

With one quick pivot, he landed her down on the bed with his frame pressed into her. Her legs hung off the edge from the hip down, and he used the position to grind the stiff length in his pants against her cleft.

Even fully clothed, it was maddening. He could feel the wet patch between her legs, and when she arched further into him, a primal growl rumbled in his chest. 

Tav’s fingers were brushing at his sides, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Off,” she panted impatiently.

Rolan tilted back to rip the garment up over his horns, immediately reaching for her own once his was free. He stripped her frantically, ripping her smallclothes in two before he could work them down her thighs.

When she lay bare beneath him, moaning and arching into everywhere he touched, he was overcome with hunger for more of her taste. 

Rolan gripped her hips, dragging her with a jerk to the edge of the bed. With her glistening folds displayed before him, all he could do was drop to his knees and bury his tongue between them.

The sounds she made were like sweet music as he explored her. He sucked and massaged her slit with his tongue, then plunged it as deep within her walls as he could. His eyes rolled back in his head. Her taste surrounded him; his nose brushed her clit as he ate her, further overwhelming his senses with the scent of her arousal.

“Gods, yes, Rolan—” Tav moaned above him as her hands flew to grip each of his horns. She alternately tugged them and arched into his mouth, grinding her clit against his face.

He wanted to hear her say his name like that another thousand times. Rolan curled his tongue against her walls, determined to taste her even deeper, but to no avail. Without his sharp nails, he would have sunk two fingers into her.

Instead, as his mouth left her, the ridged end of his tail looped around to brush over her slit.

“Ah—” Tav gasped from the bed. One of her hands left him to prop up on an elbow to look. 

He watched her face in adoration as his tail slid between her soaked lips, coating itself in a mixture of her arousal and his saliva. Once it was thoroughly wet, he let the heart-shaped tip push experimentally into her.

Whatever hesitation he had evaporated at the way she arched and keened. He pushed in further, inch by inch, hissing in breath at how tight and wet her walls squeezed around him. Rolan felt his cock leaking between his legs at the sight of his tail disappearing into her plush cunt.

“Taking my tail so well,” Rolan praised without thinking, then groaned. “Fuck, Tav, you’re so tight—”

“Don’t stop,” she demanded, breathless.

When he felt the tip brush the limits of her insides, he held it steady as she panted down at him. Her mouth hung open in anticipation as she watched him lean in again for her center.

But instead of landing on her clit, his mouth met with the soft skin of her inner thigh and sucked it firmly between his teeth.

Tav gave a little yelp of pain, but her walls constricted around his tail so hard he moaned against her flesh. He left two more lovely red marks against her thigh before withdrawing his tail from her, leaving only the tip inside her silk.

Then he thrust back into her and took up a forceful rhythm of stretching her open on his tail.

“Fucking gods,” she gasped, gripping both his horns again. He felt her use them as leverage as she bounced her hips down to meet him. 

“Like this, don’t you?” Rolan urged her on, drunk off her desire. “Fucking yourself on my tail—” He leaned down to take another taste of her clit, swirling and sucking as the ridges on his tail dragged more wetness out of her with each thrust.

“Yes,” Tav moaned, shaking under him as his tongue worked over her clit. “Feels so perfect in me, so—ngh—!”

When he flicked the tip of it up inside her, Tav’s words stuttered to incoherence. He felt her inner walls clench and flutter, and repeated the motion over and over with each thrust.

“I’m—oh, oh ohohoh—”

She dissolved into soft cries. The muscles at her core tensed and shuddered as she climaxed against his tongue. Rolan withdrew his tail from her with a slick release, instead clasping his mouth over her to lap down the sweet taste that poured from her. His pants were so wet he was nearly convinced he’d already come, but he felt his cock straining against the fabric just as firmly.

When her thighs collapsed limp to either side, Rolan pushed himself to his feet for a look at her. Tav’s eyes were bright, cheeks flushed with arousal, her hair coiled out in wild tendrils that framed her like a crown. Their eyes met; with both hands on his arms, she pulled him down for a kiss.

Rolan landed braced on his forearms. Their tongues slid and pushed together, trading the taste of her release. When he felt her reaching between them to undo his laces, he pulled away to loose them and strip off the rest of his clothes. 

Tav reached for his erection, and before he’d steadied himself, she gripped his length to drag the generous droplets of precum around his tip with her thumb. His hips bucked into her.

“Eager, aren’t you?” She teased softly.

“Yes,” Rolan groaned. Tav’s soft hand was around his cock for the first time; it was all he could do to locate words. He knew his face was flushed and tense with arousal, but Tav only looked up at him with appreciation from where she lay back on his bed. 

When she guided his length across the wet of her core, he rocked his hips to drag his ridges across her. She shivered slightly, still sensitive, but rolled into him.

“Need you,” Rolan panted, not sure whether he was asking her or begging. “Tav—please—”

Tav’s hand lined him up with her entrance. When his leaking tip nudged inside her, Rolan pushed forward with one slow, determined cant of his hips.

The cool slick of her walls clutched each inch of him so perfectly. A low groan rose in Rolan’s throat—this was the closest thing to real satisfaction that he’d gotten in days, and he hadn't even started moving yet.

“So good,” Tav said under him, voice sweet and husky. “Keep going—”

Rolan braced his hands against her hips. He pulled out slowly, legs shaking beneath him, then pushed back into the tight plush of her. 

His hips took up a firm pace, and Rolan couldn't bite back his whines as he plunged his cock inside her. Whatever his fevered imagination had conjured, it was nothing compared to this—he fell over her again, fangs skating against her breast as her body rocked under him with each thrust.

“Yes, yes, fuck—” Tav was just as breathless as her fingers gripped the infernal ridges on his shoulder blades. She tugged, egging him on.

Rolan took the invitation with enthusiasm. He nipped and sucked around the swell of her breast, breathing in lungfuls of the sweetness rolling off her skin.

“Harder,” Tav begged, the words vibrating against his lips. The hunger inside him surged in agreement.

Rolan’s lips fastened over one nipple. He sucked, hard, letting his tongue roll her against his teeth. Tav let out a whimper, but he felt her legs crossing around his hips as he continued to bury himself in her.

Rolan pulled away to look at her face. A mist of sweat dusted her brow; Tav’s lips were parted and twitching with silent words. 

“Look at me,” Rolan ordered, still filling her with his cock in a steady rhythm.

Tav obeyed, her eyes shining and pupils blown wide. He straightened away from her, never breaking, and laid a hand each on her calves. Then he pushed up, folding her legs to her chest and opening up her cunt even deeper for him.

“You look so beautiful like this, Tav,” he told her, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping his pace slow and steady. “Folded in half in my bed. Stretched around my cock so perfectly.”

In response, Tav’s hands grabbed her knees, pulling herself open even further to each side. “Is this how you imagined it?” She asked wickedly. “All alone—wishing it was me and not your own hand—”

Heat prickled across his neck and shoulders, but Rolan was too far gone to feel shame. He couldn't resist breaking eye contact, however, watching the way his cock stretched open her dripping cunt.

“Just like this,” he panted in answer. She took in breath to respond, but he was already slamming back into her at a reckless pace.

The lewd, wet sounds of his thrusts filled the room, layered with their chorus of whines and moans. Rolan shuddered at how slick and tight she was around him, perfectly gripping each inch of his needy length. His cock throbbed in anticipation of a satisfying release, finally, after all these times of not quite enough—

“I’m close,” he panted, gripping her hips to pull her down deeper onto his cock. The tip of him nudged against the limits of her walls. “Where should—”

“Inside,” Tav insisted, still holding herself wide for him. “Only inside, Rolan, want you to fill me up—fuck—”

The imagery pushed him over the edge, and he did just that. With a throb of release, he felt his cock pulsing and filling her deepest walls with his seed. His hips stuttered into her as he pushed his spend as far into her as he could reach.

Tav clutched his shoulders as he came, humming and moaning out praises for him. Their hips rocked together, nudging his coated length back against her deep center. 

Tav went tense under him. He forced his eyes open and saw her lips parted in surprise.

“I’m—oh—!” 

She gasped in shock as her own climax gripped her. Rolan hissed in breath at the way she clenched and fluttered so suddenly around him. His length was still hard, and his ridges pulsed against her.

As she drifted back down, Tav’s eyes finally lit on him in a daze. “What…what was that?”

Rolan was abruptly reminded of how many ruts he’d spent without a partner. “I'm sorry, I should've warned you,” he confessed. It was hard to form his thoughts while still inside her. “During the cycle…infernal traits get stronger. Like incubi. Helps attract a partner.” Somehow this explanation was more embarrassing than any of the other filth he’d just spoken to her.

Tav stared up at him. “You're saying your come is going to make me come?”

“Essentially.” Rolan shifted inside her slightly, still not confident he was done. “I apologize—I didn't think to tell you. Is that a problem?”

“Rolan—” Tav let out a breathless laugh, and the sound went straight to his chest. “This is the exact opposite of a problem. Just a bit of a shock, that's all.”

The lovely sight of her happy and satisfied under him was too much to resist. Rolan leaned forward on his arms to kiss her, trapping her legs between their chests.

As her hand stroked softly under his jaw, Rolan felt a second ache settling in his loins. He released her lips for just long enough to push her legs out over his hips, then ducked back down for her mouth.

He rolled his hips into her slower this time, but it was somehow more intense. Their lips stayed connected as he drove into her deep. Her walls were slippery with arousal and his own seed, and they gripped like pure silk around his cock. Her opening slid over the sensitive ridges at his base with each thrust.

When he dipped a thumb between their bodies to rub circles over her clit, Tav broke away with a little gasp.

“I can’t again,” she said, panting.

“You can,” he told her simply. “Hold on to me—” 

She did, wrapping both arms and legs firmly around him as if he was her anchor. Rolan dipped his head to her neck as he doubled his pace, their hips slotting together with each brisk slide into her. He breathed deep against the curve of her shoulder.

Still so hungry for release, it wasn't long before he came again hard. This time he just barely pumped his spend into her before he pulled out to look down.

Sticky white seed dribbled out of her slit, running down toward her hole. He dipped the thumb circling her clit down to swipe it back up across her cunt, painting his come across the bundle of nerves at her peak.

Tav’s thighs twitched under him, and she gripped his arm tight with one hand. She swore as he continued flicking across her clit with the wet pad of his thumb, then whined out his name.

While her next orgasm nearly doubled her in half, Rolan tilted his head to watch the sight between her legs. She was soaked, twitching, utterly intoxicating. Her contracting walls pushed more of his spend out of her; it flowed generously from her slit and soaked down into the bedding below.

Finding himself now utterly spent, Rolan collapsed on his back next to her. As he did, he realized his legs had grown fatigued to the point of buckling from the exertions. He let his body sink heavy into the mattress. 

“I made a mess on your sheets,” Tav panted from beside him. 

Rolan groaned at her descriptive language. The fact that his length continued softening was a sign his urges were finally giving him a reprieve, however. “It was mostly my fault.”

She only let out a weak breath of laughter.

Too tired to trust his shaking legs, he reached an arm blind over the side of the bed and snatched up the first fabric it touched. His discarded shirt.

Pushing himself seated, he gently reached to dry between Tav’s legs. One of her hands traced the ridges on his back as he quietly tended to her.

“How long before the next?” She asked him.

“An hour or two.” Rolan didn't look at her. “Tav, you've done more than enough for m—”

The mattress shifted as she sat up and turned his face into a waiting kiss. It was soft, just a chorus of little presses across his lips.

When Tav pulled away, she tucked the damp curtain of his hair behind one ear. “Rolan, unless you want me to go, I'm staying until it’s over.”

Rolan cast a glance over her. Despite the fact that she was naked in his bed and covered in blooming bruises from his mouth, she was very much the same Tav as ever. “Thank you,” he told her quietly.

She pushed him onto his back with a sudden laugh, landing with her chest pressed to his. “What an utterly Rolan thing to say,” she mused. “Need I remind you I just came three times?”

Tav was teasing him, and was of a mind to put her in her place—only he found that none of his limbs wanted to move at the moment. Instead, his only response was a deep hum as his eyelids drooped shut.

He felt the mattress shift as she rose and wished he could reach out to stop her. But a moment later she curled up next to him again, dragging a soft quilt over their bodies. 

Rolan turned inward to rest his head on Tav’s chest—and fell into his first real slumber in days.

[dulcelem]

Seeing things from Till's perspective, everything must be so very confusing. Like his life is getting progressively worse than it already was, the person who is his only source of comfort and hope has disappeared and may have died(he failed to protect her. she is the only reason he stayed in his own private hell, the reason he gave up his longed for freedom from the aliens and he failed). He was completely alone and on top of that he was being abused, dehumanized and violated in every way possible. Gradually losing all motivation and strength until he became so depressed that the sense of self and danger no longer exists.

Then, he's going to sing in a deadly competition against this boy he was kind of friends with when they were kids. He was kinda weird and got on Till's nerves occasionally, but yeah they played together, they fought sometimes and one time he sort of offered all the freedom in the world outside of that place for some reason. But anyway, life has no more meaning so he gives up singing and decides to die. Understandable.

But, out of the absolute NOWHERE, that boy who was almost his friend kisses him(??????) for no reason and he doesn't stop. Then, as if it wasn't already fucking weird, Ivan chokes Till. And. Honestly. It makes more sense. Maybe Ivan has a desire to live or something. He doesn't tho. Not right now. Or, who knows, Ivan was taking out his anger on him because if only Till had agreed to run away with him that night, they wouldn't be in this situation. Practically suicidal, he accepts death by Ivan's hands. But then, out of nowhere(again) Ivan FALLS TO THE GROUND with BLOOD DRAINING from his mouth. And he DIES. His plan to die was over and Ivan died for him without any explanation or warning.

Many people say he is sad or angry, but I swear I think this man is in the deepest state of shock. He hadn't been able to move an inch since the end of the performance and stared at Ivan's dead body until the lights went out. He wasn't conscious enough to even try to stop the bleeding. I'm very curious to see how he will react to all this

[stevieschrodinger]

Dustin’s crying so loud, Steve can barely hear when Eddie speaks, “trust me, Stevie?”

Eddie’s never called him that before. Eddie coughs again, bloody, and it spatters his lips and stains in between his teeth, mutely, Steve nods.

Eddie grabs Steve by the collar of his own denim jacket, pulling himself up and Steve down. He’s surprisingly strong considering Steve is absolutely certain that Eddie’s about to die. That’s what makes Steve close his eyes and open his mouth; lets Eddie have whatever he wants. Invites it when Eddie invades with a wet and bloody tongue. It’s a battle of a kiss, and Steve soaks it up.

Eddie disappears from under Steve’s hands, and he almost falls forward, Eddie disintegrating into a cloud of fiery ash. It settles, and in the middle, there’s an egg.

It’s shocking enough that Dustin stops crying, “what the fuuuuuck?” Dustin reaches for the egg, pulls his hand back, hissing, sucking his fingers.

Steve reaches for it next, “it’s too hot,” Dustin tries to warn him...but it isn’t. It’s pleasantly warm in Steve’s hand and he lifts it comfortably.

They take it with them.

They have absolutely no fucking explanation for what the hell just happened. Steve, instinctively, refuses to put the egg down anywhere. He sits, staring at it, cataloguing the slightly speckled pattern, watching how it catches the light as he turns it in his palms, pale and diffuse in the lamplight of the lounge.

He doesn’t really like other people touching it, but allows Robin to brush it with her fingertips; she draws them back sharply, hissing, blisters already forming. He carries it with him, even going so far as to showering one handed so he can hold it. He curls around it that night in bed and isn’t even worried that he might accidentally break it; he knows he won’t.

They have a day to recuperate, the party all together again, and safe; Vecna is defeated.

Eddie has one living relative that everyone knows about; Wayne Munson. It’s the only possible place they may get some answers; the trailer is just...gone. They contact Hopper, who contacts Owens, and an hour later he calls Steve back. The trailer was impounded by Owens team to study the damage and now closed gate inside; Wayne Munson is in a Motel.

Everyone piles into the beemer.

Wayne looks sallow when he opens the door, distraught, but in a kind of worn in way. Like he’s already accepted it. No one speaks, they just watch as Steve produces the egg, cupped carefully in his hands. Wayne’s face crumples, his eyes well up, and he pulls Steve into a hug, “thank you. I thought I’d lost him, thank you.”

“Okay,” Steve replies, “but we have no idea what’s going on.”

Wayne shoos them into the room. There’s two doubles, Dustin, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan climb onto the still made bed; not the one that’s clearly been slept in. Wayne sits at the foot of his bed, Steve remains standing, carefully cradling the egg.

“He never told you what he is?”

Everyone on the bed is staring at Wayne wide eyed, Steve almost laughs at them, but he’s too busy shaking his head at Wayne.

Wayne nods, scratching his head, “so how long have you and my Eddie been seeing each other?”

Everyone on the bed turns to look at Steve instead, eyes, if anything, even wider, “we...aren’t. That’s not. We’re not…” The egg pulses hotly in Steve’s hands; for a brief moment, it’s unpleasant.

“You must be something, or you wouldn’t be able to touch his egg. Bound in blood?”

“There was blood, he was coughing up blood...when he was dying and he…”

“They kissed,” Dustin interjects, super unhelpful, “right before Eddie…” Dustin makes the form of an explosion with his hands, “you know, went poof.”

Wayne nods, “it’s enough, this time, for Eddie to come back. But if you don’t complete the bond, he won’t last long. Eddie must love you a hell of a lot.”

“Love me?” Steve asks weakly.

“Yeah,” Wayne says, “phoenix’s mate for life, and they won’t come back for anything less.”

There’s a long, drawn out silence, before Steve, finally offers a weak, “we hardly even know each other.”

“Eddie knows. A phoenix always knows. And you have to complete the bond, or he won’t be able to stay.”

“What?” Dustin asks, panicked, “what do you mean, stay?”

Wayne shrugs, “a phoenix, rejected by their mate, will burn up from the inside. He’ll wither and die unless Steve...reciprocates.”

Steve, weak limbed, just gives up and sits on the floor.

“What about you, Mr. Munson, are you a phoenix?” Dustin’s going to start in with fifty million questions. Steve’s kind of glad, gives him a moment to sit here and...stroke Eddie’s egg.

“Nah, I’m his dad’s brother. Him mom was the phoenix; that’s how she died. My brother wasn’t the best of guys and when he fucked it up...she died. Didn’t take long. Eddie’s a half breed, they can see it on sight, so the other phoenix, they rejected him. He’s been with me ever since. Not human enough to fit in here, not...good enough for them.”

Dustin looks affronted on Eddie’s behalf, “that’s not fair, Eddie’s a great guy. They’re...prejudiced, Eddie’s better off without them, anyway.”

Wayne hums agreeable, “they put a lot of stock in their feathers, what they look like. His mom knew at birth he’d never be accepted, but we had to try after she died. I’d hoped that they would take pity on him but...no. They said his colors were an ill omen.”

“What’s wrong with his colors? What colors? Eddie doesn’t even have feathers.”

“He will when he hatches, and they’ll be black as night.”

Steve figures it’s been around seventy nine ish hours when the first crack appears in the shell. He has no idea if there’s a significance to the amount of time, but he doesn’t interfere. He just turns the volume of the television down low and sits and watches, fascinated, as the crack widens and little, damp, black chick gets itself free. The inside of the shell shines like dark mother of pearl; like an oil slick.

Steve already knows he will hide the egg away and treasure it forever. He had sworn again and again to Dustin that the second Eddie showed signs of hatching, Steve would call him. He couldn’t though. He just couldn’t. Something in him screamed loudly that it would be wrong. It would be so wrong for someone else to be here.

He decides to let them have one night together, just him and the tiny, feather light ball of blackness sitting on his thighs. He’ll call Dustin in the morning.

Steve tries to put Eddie down to go to the bathroom before bed; Eddie chirps miserably the whole time. He walks around on top of the comforter once Steve is in bed, and Steve watches in the lamplight as the tiny chick negotiates the mountains and valleys of Steve's bedding. He falls asleep finally, bored of exploring, nestled against the side of Steve’s neck.

“You said you’d call!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, it’s just it was late and-”

“He’s so big!”

“Yeah,” Steve replies. Nothing else to say really. Eddie seemed to have quadrupled in size overnight. He’s now the size of a chicken, covered in long, sleek black feathers. He has a long neck for his size, and his tail feathers sweep along the ground as he follows at Steve’s heels.

“Are you going to go and see Wayne?”

Eddie tilts his head at the sound of his uncles name, watching from his perch on the kitchen counter. Steve had tried him with a bowl of dry cereal, but Eddie had merely pecked at it a couple of times before ignoring it. Steve had added milk and eaten it himself.

“Nah,” Steve replies absently. The thought of leaving the house is...well. Steve doesn’t like it.

The next day, Eddie is the size of a very large turkey and his head, thanks to the long neck, can almost stretch to the height of Steve’s shoulder. When Steve sits on the couch, Eddie flaps up to sit on Steve’s lap, long neck winding around Steve’s, his head looping around to rest on Steve’s chest. His eyes are warm brown, just like Eddie’s human eyes, and Steve isn’t even a little worried about the huge talons or wickedly sharp beak.

On the seventh day, Steve wakes to find a man in his bed with him. He sighs with relief, pulling Eddie closer and whispering, “hello sweetheart,” into his fluffy hair.

Steve assumed they had time, he had hoped they could get to know each other; that Steve could do this properly, but by lunch Eddie is looking tired and has gray hairs at his temples so Steve simply says, “I love you, too,” over coffee and toast and hopes that it’s enough.

[iridecsense]

his brother’s keeper - m. 

 ⤷ summary: after yet again pining for his brother’s girl, newt finds himself stuck between his brother and the woman he is in love with...quite literally.

𓇬 word count: 8.0k 𓇬 pairing: theseus scamander | fem!reader | newt scamander 𓇬 genre: smut, porn with a little plot  𓇬 rating: 18+ 𓇬 warnings: profanity, depictions of spiked drinks 𓇬 kinks: voyeur, cuckholding, breeding, creampie, menage et toi, oral (fem recieving), anal mdom/femsub/msub 𓇬 author’s note: Something you can think of as a sequel to rumors, or a stand alone one shot. I will definitely not see the pearly gates after this, I am so sorry in advance! I may be a bit rusty so please be gentle and accept this late Christmas gift as a New Years surprise. Expect more from me soon. ;)

     It was usually in conditions like these, when the streets of London were slick with cool wet, and the biting cold spread mist from hot mouths filled the air, that made a time meant for cheer and love, one of desolate solitude for those less fortunate. Whatever the circumstances may be, it is in these times Newt Scamander often found himself alone. Though, if you were to ask him yourself he would deny the accusation and snarkily ask if one could ever be truly alone when surrounded by magnificent creatures. Despite the best efforts of his brother, who cared for him most earnestly, Newt hadn’t spent the holidays with him in years. 

      He had his reasons to be sure. Back when Theseus was engaged with his childhood friend Leta, there was no doubt an awkwardness. The younger Scamander brother was in love with the Lestrange girl. To see his brother have what he had longed for since he first met her put a strain on his heart. Newt was not bold in any sense of the word. Being forward with a woman never came easy to him. When he’d lost the chance to win Leta’s heart he swore that when he found himself enamored by another woman he would make it clear to her his affections.     In came Tina Goldstein, an American auror who he found himself entangled with on a trip overseas. He felt something for her—a kind of attraction that was different from the one he felt for Leta, but an attraction nonetheless. Tina was tall and beautiful and treated him with more respect than anyone ever had. But even that effort fell short. Tina had become more dedicated to her work and her sister. There was no room for him in her life at the moment. The two drifted apart succeeding the events of Grindelwald's rally in Paris. He returned to London, and she to her own affairs.     That had been nearly three years ago. Newt did well on his own, he felt. His creatures keep him busy enough. Getting through the day was easy. The nights were the hardest. At night there wasn't anything busying his mind from thinking of you.     Newt started to believe he was cursed to always fall in love with women he couldn't have. Whoever it was must have been especially cruel to make him fall for his brother’s girlfriends. That could be the only explanation. Otherwise,  he was just a sick, perverted man who desperately needed therapy. Little did he know two things can be true.    It wasn’t as though it were intentional. When it came to Leta, he had loved her first. Theseus just happened to get her. You, however, was something he did not expect. He was acquainted with you, only knowing and conversing with you when Leta was involved, considering you were her friend. It wasn't until she died that he got to know you better. During that time, Newt stayed with his brother and swore to stay by his side and help him and the ministry in capturing Grindelwald. Theseus grieved, and Newt was there to care for him, and so were you.     You would come by with food and insist on helping clean the apartment. The gesture was kind, especially when you were going through your own grief. Newt wondered if you used your kindness and instinct to help others as a way to distract yourself from the pain you truly felt. He was able to prove his theory right after many nights alone, drinking gin and fire whiskey, when he got to know you more intimately.     Theseus never knew, but in those first few months he spent grieving, Newt had grown rather fond of you. You were funny, kind, a great cook, and you listened to him, something no one else really did. The day he discovered your relationship with his brother he was disappointed, to say the least. Once again, Theseus had managed to take someone else he cared about. Newt often wondered how different things would have been if he had kissed you that night as you so desperately wanted him to. The same night when you had drank one too many gin and tonics and found the Scamander family album hidden in Theseus’s bookshelf. That night you somehow wound up on top of his lap, flipping through embarrassing baby pictures and evidence of his pubescent awkwardness. You were too drunk to notice how tense he was underneath you, or how with every shift of movement, or every laugh you chuckled, your ass pressed against his crotch.     When you came across a picture of Newt his mother had taken of him on the first day working at the Ministry when he was sixteen, you gushed over how ‘adorable’ he looked. Newt blushed. Then you said something he didn't expect.     “I see what Leta meant. You were always cute.”     Newt didn't know what to say. You positioned your head on his shoulder to look up at him. Newt was never good at eye contact, but he found it hard to tear his eyes away from yours.     “You have pretty eyes,” you slurred suddenly with a smile stretched across your lips. He could smell the alcohol on your breath your faces were so close.     “So do you,” he said, surprising himself with his own brazenness. It was true. You had two pretty (e/c) eyes like none he’d ever seen, even when they fluttered and stared blankly up at him in an intoxicated daze. But it was only with the help of the three glasses of gin he had earlier that helped him say it aloud.     Your smile grew wider. Your hand went to cup his left cheek. “I never understood Leta,” you mumbled. “How could anyone look past you?”     He’d wanted it so bad. To feel your lips against his would be his greatest reward after all he’d been through, after all his shortcomings. If he were a lesser man he would have taken advantage of your drunkenness. But you could barely sit up on your own, and he couldn’t tell how long it would be before you lost consciousness and fell asleep on the couch as you had done several times before.     “Kiss me, Newt,” you asked. “Please.” It was the first sentence you hadn't slurred since the gin entered your bloodstream. In a moment of weakness, his hand caressed your cheek. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip and he heard your breath hitch in your throat.     You were so beautiful and there you were, begging him to kiss you. Begging for something more by the way you pressed your body into him and looked desperately at his lips through half-lidded eyes. And maybe if he had four gin and tonics instead of three he would have given you what you wanted. But he was more sober than you and he respected you far too much to take advantage of you in your current state. What he had to do afterward took all his restraint.     The next day you greeted him in the kitchen with the same kind smile you always gave him as you prepared breakfast. The matter was never brought up again and Newt assumed you simply didn't remember. He saw no point in bringing it up himself. Before he knew it, it was too late. Theseus had set his eyes on you and wasted no time claiming you as his. Newt could not touch you, no matter how badly he wanted to.     And so, once again, Newt found himself in love with his brother’s girl. Constantly keeping her on his mind, constantly yearning for her, but always stepping back. He was still close to you, which only made it harder.     For the past year, he’s kept the secret of that night. But that wouldn't stop him from thinking of it, and all that could have been, just as he was doing now, lying in his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. If only he could have you with him now and feel your skin on his, taste the salt of your sweat, and feel the heat of your body. He could only imagine. But even in his imagination he was the happiest man on earth. Theseus must have felt like God.     Unbeknownst to him, he would get a taste of that feeling the very next day. In the morning when he woke up, he found an owl waiting for him with a letter. It was an invitation, from you no less, to join you and Theseus for a Christmas dinner later that evening. In truth, Newt had been so busy tending to his creatures the past week he had forgotten how close Christmas was approaching, let alone that it was Christmas Day.     The thought of spending an evening with you was enticing. It was Theseus’s presence that made him second guess. He loved his brother, that was no question. He probably loved his brother more than anyone else in the world, which is why he could sit silently as he continuously watched him have everything he ever wanted with no protest. That didn't mean it was easy. It was hard to see you with him, even harder than when he had to endure Leta with him. At least then he had Tina as a distraction. Now there was only you and he could see no one else better than you.     Had it been Theseus who sent the letter he wouldn't have agreed to stop by. He might not have even replied. But since it was you, and only because it was you, he sent an owl confirming his arrival.     On the other side of things, you were ecstatic. It had been some time since you'd seen Newt and you considered him one of your closest friends. You knew Theseus would love having his little brother visit for Christmas and felt it would be the perfect present for him.     You had told Newt to come a couple of hours earlier than when you would be expecting Theseus. When you opened the door you greeted him with a bright, toothy smile and open arms. Newt hugged you back awkwardly and stepped inside.     “Everything is cooking in the oven now,” you said. “I’m just finishing up the pie for dessert. Come, have a drink in the kitchen.”     Newt followed behind you. You looked adorable in the tacky red and green Christmas sweater you wore over your long white dress. You made him a drink and started on your creme pie.     “It’s so good to see you, Newt,” you told him. “I was afraid you couldn’t make it. I know how busy your creatures keep you.”     “It’s good to see you too,” he replied. “Bunty insisted she stay and help while I am away. She claimed she had no other plans.”     You pouted your lips. “That’s awful!” You said. “You should have told me! I would have gladly invited Bunty over if I knew. No one should be alone on Christmas.”     Newt smiled softly. There you go again, always thinking of others. As the two of you sat in the kitchen you caught each other up on your lives. Things were going great for you, Newt discovered. You had recently gotten a promotion and received a medal for your efforts spying abroad for your department and gathering intel on Grindelwald and his acolytes.    Newt told you about his own travels abroad, searching for and rescuing creatures whenever he could while doing his own work for Dumbledore to support the cause. He told you stories of the places he’d been and the creatures he’d seen, even promising to let you visit his home to see them for yourself. “They’d love you,” he said.     Before he knew it, the two of you were sharing a glass of wine on the couch while the food kept warm. Then you shared another, and another, and another while you both waited for Theseus to return.     “He works later these days,” you tell Newt. “There’ve been days where he doesn't come home at all. Just stays up there, drooling over papers in his office. I worry about him sometimes.”     “That’s my brother,” he says. “Always working harder than anyone else. Always having something to prove. In some ways I’m jealous.”     You chuckled. “Jealous? How so?”     “He’s always so,” Newt paused, searching his brain for the right word. “Dedicated. Determined. He sets his mind on something and won't stop until he does it. He’s always been like that.”     You turned to face him next to you on the couch, sitting on your legs and propping your elbow on the back of the couch to lean your head against your hand. You peer at him quizzically. “But you’re like that too.”     Newt scoffed. “No I’m not,” he chuckled as he took a sip of his wine.     “Yes, you are!” You insist. “You’re very determined and dedicated to your animals. You have done things many others are too afraid to do; all to protect the things you love. Even Theseus admits you are much better suited to be an auror than he is.”     Newt raised a curious brow, a coy smile on his face. “Really?”     You nod. “He’s very amazed by you—admires you, even. As do I. You’re very brave, Newt. No one is more determined or dedicated than you.”     “There is one person,” Newt muttered.      “Who?” You asked, genuinely curious about his answer, prepared to playfully berate him for his humbleness.     “Theseus.”     “Well, he doesn't seem to think so,” you say.     “But he is,” Newt quipped, whipping his head to look you in the eye. The energy in the room shifted, and though both your brains were fuzzy from wine, you could tell the moment had gone from playful to serious.     “He is,” he continued. “He wanted to become head boy and he did. He strived to be the best auror at the ministry and he is. He wanted Leta and he got her, and when he wanted you, he got you.”     You were silent as you listened, unsure of where exactly Newt was going with his ramblings.     “I could never do that,” he admitted. “If I could, you would be with me now, not him.”     Now it was the wine talking. You were surprised. Newt’s face was red, but at this point, it wasn't clear if it was because he was embarrassed, frustrated, or tipsy.     “What do you mean, Newt?” You asked, your voice soft and sweet. His expression softened, and he looked at you in such a way your heart fluttered in your chest.     “You are so beautiful,” he proclaimed, making your face burn hotter than it already was. “I should have told you that a long time ago. If I were as forthright as Theseus I would have told you I loved you the night we almost kissed a year ago on this couch.”     Newt chuckled at your stunned expression, unable to say a word. “You don’t remember, but you were beautiful then too. You sat right here in my lap and you held my face in your hand and begged me to kiss you. I would have if you weren’t intoxicated. I wanted to talk to you about it the next day but you had already forgotten—”     “I didn't forget,” you spoke finally. Now it was Newt’s turn to be surprised.     “What?”     You put your wine glass down on the coffee table and scooted closer to Newt on the couch. Your knees touched his thigh, but neither of you moved.     “I didn't forget,” you repeat, clearer this time. “We were drinking while Theseus was asleep in his room one night. I had found your family album and we looked at it together when I asked you to kiss me.”     Newt frowned. “If you remember then why didn't you say anything?”     “I was embarrassed,” you reveal. “When you didn't kiss me I thought that I made a fool of myself. That you rejected me. When you didn't say anything afterwards I figured that was it. That you just wanted to forget and stay as friends.”     Newt couldn't believe his ears. All this time you had remembered that night and thought he held no feelings for you. He was spiraling in his head, you could tell by the way he distantly stared into his glass of wine.     “Newt?” You called out to him, taking his glass and replacing it with your hand.     “This is what I mean,” he said finally. “I wasn't determined. If I were like Theseus I would have talked to you regardless of whether or not I thought you remembered. I would have told you how wonderful it felt holding you in my arms and how desperately I wanted to press my lips against yours and taste you on my tongue. I would have told you how much I love you.”     Your stomach turned excitedly at Newt’s words. You squeezed his hand tightly. “Newt...”     He stopped, realizing what he just said. “I...I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t know why I’m saying these things.”     “That would be the veritaserum in the wine,” said a deep voice behind him.     Newt turned around and found his brother, Theseus, standing under the archway to the foyer.     “Theseus,” He stammered and quickly stood to his feet.     “No need to get up, brother,” he said calmly. “It wasn’t as if I didn’t know.”     On the couch, you held up the wine bottle and inspected it. “How did veritaserum get into the wine?”     “I drugged it,” Theseus said simply as he walked past Newt and took a seat across from the couch in an armchair.     “Why the hell would you do that?” You asked Theseus angrily.     “Because this morning you said Newt accepted your invitation to dinner. Because I knew the real reason why Newt hasn't visited me in months is that he feels guilty for loving you knowing you’re with me,” he explained. “And I didn't want to have a Christmas dinner with a brother who resents me and sulks across the table pining for you. So, I put veritaserum in the wine I knew you wanted to drink tonight and left the two of you alone, hoping my baby brother would finally confess his feelings. And he did! Now we all know.”     You shot up from your seat and glared at Theseus. “This is cruel Theseus. You had no right!”     “I will admit it was slightly unethical, but I don’t see the harm in it. Aren’t you glad that Newt confessed his feelings?”     “Yes,” you answered instantly, though, of course, not of your own free will.     Theseus then turned to Newt. “And don't you feel better having finally told her?”     “Yes,” Newt admitted.    Theseus smiled. “Good! Now everything’s better.”     “You aren't upset?” Asked Newt.     Theseus looked at him as though he were confused. “Why would I be upset?”     “You’re not upset that I’m in love with your girlfriend?”     Theseus pursed his lips in thought before shifting his eyes to the half-empty bottle of wine. Standing to his feet, he walked towards the coffee table and grabbed the bottle by the neck. He took a swing of the truth-spiked wine and put it back down.     “Why don’t you ask me again.” He said.     “You’re not upset that I love y/n?” Newt once again asked.     Theseus smiled almost tenderly at his brother. “No.”     The older brother walked back to his chair and sat down, leaving you and Newt stupefied. “I do, however, wonder how you feel, darling.” He said, now turning his attention to you.     You furrowed your brows. “Me?”     “Do you love Newt back?” Asked Theseus.     Newt’s eyes fell on you. Your mouth opened and took a breath in preparation of your answer, but it closed as soon as it happened. Your glare on Theseus sharpened.     “What are you playing at, Theseus?”     “Don’t try fighting it,” he said. “You won't be able to lie so just answer. Do you love him?”     Your eyes flickered over and connected with Newt’s, who was looking at you expectingly. Your eyes softened and the tenseness in your shoulders fell away.     “Yes,” you whispered.     Newt couldn't believe his ears. Everything happening at this moment felt surreal. Just a few minutes ago he thought he had embarrassed himself once again, having confessed his feelings to his brother’s girlfriend right in front of him. He was prepared to be punched and thrown out and for his brother to hate him for the rest of his life. But instead of being angry, Theseus was encouraging him. He encouraged you and finally, he got to hear you say words he’d only dreamt of you saying. You loved him. Oddly enough, despite how it came about, Newt couldn't be happier.     “Kiss her.”     Newt was pulled from his thoughts and his shared gaze with you. You both turned and looked at Theseus who sat cooly in the armchair.     “Didn’t you hear what she said?” He asked. “She loves you! Stop standing there like an idiot and kiss her!”     “Theseus—” you began to speak, but Theseus stopped you.     “It’s okay, love,” he assured you with his gentlest voice. “Let him kiss you.”     The energy in the room for the second time that night, all because of Theseus, who ironically was the calmest person in the room. But there was something about the aura permeating from him that domineered over everyone else. His gaze burned into them as he stared, waiting for Newt to do as he commanded.     Every part of him wanted to turn around and walk out the front door and never speak of this again. He would go home and lay in his bed and do his best to fall asleep and forget everything that happened here tonight. Every part except the one that wanted to turn to his side, take you in his arms, and kiss you the way he should have that night. It was that part of him that won over all his better judgments.    In an instant, Newt’s lips were on yours. He held your face in his hands and pressed his body flat against yours. You were taken aback. You’d even yelped when his lips first touched yours. It was a while before your body finally relaxed and you closed your eyes, leaning into the kiss. Your lips began to move with his and he felt your hands lightly grip the sides of his waist, still unsure.     Theseus leaned back in his chair and said nothing as he watched. Newt’s tongue darted from between his lips and licked a stripe over your own. Your mouth opened for him willingly and he wasted no time exploring your mouth. He moaned at the taste of you. The feeling of your tongue swirling around his made his cock twitch in his pants. You could feel it against your thigh and your breath hitched in your throat.     “Don’t stop,” ordered Theseus with his hand over his pants, palming at the growing hardness straining against the fabric.    Newt kept his mouth on yours, only moving his grip around your face down to your hips. Your hands fisted the fabric of his shirt and you pressed your body into him, yearning to be closer. Newt stumbled back until the backs of his legs hit the couch and he broke away from the kiss to sit down. He spread his legs outwards and pulled you down onto his lap. You straddled his waist and his hips bucked upwards, longing to connect. A soft moan fell from your lips and he swore hadn't heard a more beautiful sound. Soon lips were back on yours.     “Tell her how pretty she is, Newt,” Theseus instructed.     Newt pulled from your feverish kiss and pushed your hair from around your face. “You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he said. You looked down at him through half-lidded eyes dilated with lust. Your lips twitched into a smile as you began salaciously grinding your hips against him, feeling the bulge of his dick against your slick heat. Newt hissed and watched you from below, moving his hips along with you, admiring your form hovering above him as you pulled your sweater over your head and threw it on the floor.     “Show him just how beautiful you are, sweetheart,” Theseus commanded. His voice was low and husky. He watched the two of you closely, palming his own arousal.     It was of no concern to the two of you, however. Newt was so encompassed by you he could barely pay any mind to his brother watching across the room. Of course, there were thoughts screaming in the back of his head telling him how fucked this whole situation was, but they were nothing more than muted whispers compared to you rubbing against his cock.     Just as Theseus commanded you showed Newt how beautiful you were when you took a hand and pulled down one of the straps to your white dress and freed your arm, repeating the same to the other. Taking his hands from your waist you brought them to your chest and helped him pull your dress down around your waist, revealing your breasts.     You felt Newt’s cock jump at the sight of you. He could only stare slack-jawed as you placed his hands over your beasts and guided him in pressing them against each other in a continuous circular motion while you rubbed your clothed clit against him. Your soft pants filled his ears as his low grunts filled yours.     “Newt...” His name fell breathlessly from your lips.     He had pumped his cock to the thought of you moaning his name many times before, but it barely held a candle to what it felt like to hear the real thing. Your name fell from his lips just as easily and he once again captured your lips in a heated kiss while he massaged your breasts.     Across the room, Theseus had his hand wrapped around his cock, slowly sliding it up and down as he watched his girlfriend shamelessly hump his little brother. You were the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. The way your hips moved against Newt could rival even the best of strippers. Your pretty moans filled his ears and he couldn’t help but reminisce about the many times he'd made those same sounds come out of you. To hear it in person is a gift. To feel your lips was a blessing. To feel your tight cunt wrapped around his cock was the best thing a man could ever feel. There is no greater present than fucking you, and Newt didn’t even realize that Theseus had just given his brother the best Christmas gift a man could ask for.     “Tell her what you’re thinking, Newt,” Theseus breathed.     Newt licked his lips. He did his best to gather his thoughts which were wall focused on you.     “Go on,” you said through shaky breaths. “Tell me.”     Newt moaned and pressed a trail of kisses on your bare shoulder and neck. “I’m thinking about how amazing you are,” he grunted out. “I’m thinking about how long I’ve wanted you and how good it feels to finally have you.”      You loved hearing Newt praise you. You loved the feeling of his hands and lips on your hot skin.  “Keep going,” you urged, moving your hands up his chest to unbutton his shirt.     “I think you’re perfect. I think that Theseus doesn't realize how lucky he is to have you,” he said boldly, piquing both your and Theseus’s interest. “You should have been mine. I would take good care of you—f-fuck!”     You had reached the top of his pants and unbuckled his belt, unbuttoning his pants and pulling out his hardened length. He wasn’t bigger than Theseus, but he certainly was thicker. Your hand slid up and down his shaft, only stopping to collect the precum leaking from his tip on your finger to put them in your mouth. He watched in awe as you licked and sucked your fingers clean.     “God, I want you,” he growled in your ear as your hand reached for his cock. “I want to be inside you. I want to feel you,” he said through labored breaths.     “Give him what he wants, love” Theseus spoke up. “Let him feel you.”      You sat up on your knees and hovered over his hips. Pulling your panties to the side with one hand you used the other to guide Newt’s member to your center. Both your breaths caught in your throats when he entered, stretching you open with his thick cock. Feeling you around him was unlike anything he could ever dream or hope. You were slick with arousal and he easily slid in and out of you, filling you up in all the right places. Your moans filled the room as Newt sucked on the supple skin of your neck. His hands and fingernails dug into your soft skin as he held you close and it felt as though the two of you were the only ones in the room.     Newt’s name sweetly slipped past your lips. Yours flittered through the air from his own. His hips rolled into yours with a precision you had no idea he was capable of. If he’d allowed it, the two of you would have lost yourselves in each other, forgetting the third presence in the room. But that wasn't going to happen.     Standing from his seat, Theses moved towards the couple and took a seat next to them on the couch, his hand still wrapped around his dick. “Does it feel good, my love?” He asked you.     “Yes,” you breathed.     “Does my little brother make you feel good? Do you love the way his cock stretches your tight little hole?”     You moaned at his dirty words, lulling your head back as Newt's lips wrapped around your nipple. “Y-yes,” you stammered, your hips rocking faster against Newts. “I love it. I love the way he feels inside me.”     “I know you do,” Theseus hummed, his breaths hastening. “You want him to make you cum don’t you, baby?”     You nodded excitedly and Theseus smirked.     “Newt, help her cum,” he said. “She likes it when you speak to her. It turns her on hearing all the dirty things you’re going to do to her.”     “Is that true?” Newt asked you once he pulled his lips from your pert nipples. “You want to hear all the things I want to do to you? Like how I’m gonna fuck your sweet cunt until you’re shaking a quivering under me? How...How I’m gonna fill you up so full with my cum you’ll end up with twins!”     He and Theseus laughed.     “See,” Theseus chuckled as he lifted the fabric of your skirt to reveal the sight of Newt’s cock pumping in and out of you. “She likes it! Look, she’s so wet your cock is soaked!”     Newt looked down and marveled at how wet you were. You took him so well and his cock disappeared inside you with ease. Newt held the skirts of your dress up so he could watch—so they could both watch.     Theseus’s hand rubbed the inside of your thigh. “Do you want me to touch you too, baby?” He asked politely.     You opened your eyes to look at your handsome boyfriend. He had long since undone his tie and unbuttoned his own shirt. His large cock was being tugged by his right hand and you nearly drooled at the sight of it, suddenly missing the feeling of having it shoved down your throat. You loved it when Theseus touched you. His hands were always precise, knowing exactly where to pinch, caress, and stroke. Like how he was rubbing your thigh right now, knowing how sensitive the skin on that area was for you. Your eyes connected and you ached seeing how dark his once baby-blue eyes had become.     “Yes,” you nodded.     Theseus wasted no time pressing his fingers on your aching clit. He rubbed your most sensitive part while his hand teased his own cock. Between his fingers and Newt’s dick plunging deep inside you, your body buzzed with pleasure. The air in the room grew hot and sticky and a symphony of soft moans, grunts, and pants melded with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the slick wetness of your dripping cunt. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening and your eyes shut, desperately chasing that feeling.     “Are you close, darling?” Newt asked once he felt you tighten around him.     “Y-yes!”     Theseus’s fingers rubbed faster to help you get there. “Watch her, Newt,” he urged. “When she comes, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see.”     Newts darkened hazel eyes trained on you. His grip around the dress wrapped around your waist tightened and her wrapped it around his arm and held your hips steady. His hips snapped upwards, changing pace. You bounced on his cock, your moans growing louder and louder.     “Cum for me, please,” Newt begged, now reaching his own release. “Let me see it. I want to see it. Show me, my love. Show me how beautiful you are when you cum. Please show me.”     He pressed open-mouthed kisses on your chest and neck, his eyes never leaving your face. Theseus’s breaths quickened as well, his pace on his cock matching the pace of your hips rising and sinking on Newt’s member. One of your hands wrapped around the base of Newt’s neck, taking a fist full of his hair. The other grabbed Theseus’s wrist and held his hand in place over your clit. A few more pumps and several flicks was all it took for your body to seize up, tightening around Newt's cock as your whole body trembled. Your moans caught in your throat, struggling to escape. The knot inside your stomach had broke and you came harder than you ever had in your life.     Newt came not long after you, sputtering your name as he did so and holding your hips down, burying his dick deeper inside you and making sure every drop of his cum spilled inside. “F-fuck,” he choked out.     Theseus had cum too, clear, white ribbons of his seed spilled into his hand and onto his abs. He wiped up what had spilled with two fingers and held it up to your lips. You were still dizzy from your orgasm, but it didn't stop you from obediently opening your mouth to suck Theseus’s cum from his fingers. Newt watched as you did this. Your skilled tongue licked and wrapped around Theseus’s long fingers promiscuously, ensuring you cleaned up every last drop.  It was enough to get him hard and twitching inside you again.     “That’s a good girl,” praised Theseus with a smile on his lips. “Isn’t she a good girl, Newt?”     “The best,” Newt agreed.     Theseus pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue by reaching up and pulling you into a deep kiss. It was slow and purposeful, as if he were trying to show off in front of Newt who had no choice but to watch uncomfortably as your tongues swirled passionately in each other’s mouths, earning your soft whimpers. Inside, he hated how much it turned him on.     As you both pulled away, you captured Theseus’s bottom lip between your teeth and playfully tugged it away before letting go. Theseus’s hand quickly flew to tightly wrap around your neck, keeping your eyes trained on him. He smirked. “Look at you, darling. Still asking for more. Aren't you tired?”     Your hand reached down to grip his cock as an answer, making him laugh. His grip around your neck tightened.     “What? Was my brother’s cock not enough for you? You need to have mine as well? Or perhaps you want us both at the same time. Is that it? You need me and my brother to fuck you senseless like the greedy little cock whore you are?”     You clenched at the thought of having both Scamander brothers filling you up at once. Newt felt it and your increasing arousal started to drip down his balls.     “I think she does,” said Newt. “Will that satisfy you, my love? If Theseus and I fucked you within an inch of your life and pumped your selfish cunt full of cum? Tell us you want it.”     You’d never seen this side of Newt. You didn't even think he was capable of saying such filthy things. He was always so sweet and temperate, being shyer than demiguise. But here he was, spurring you on with his debaucherous words. It only made you want him more.     “I want it,” you say and salaciously grind your hips into Newt, making him hiss due to how sensitive he still was.     “Beg,” Theseus demanded. “Tell us how badly you want it.”     Your cheeks burned red hot from embarrassment. Theseus smirked mischievously because he loved watching you squirm. You always begged so nicely for him with your pouty lips and round doe eyes. His little princess. He only wanted Newt to see and appreciate it too.     “Please,” you begged shamelessly. “I want to feel you both inside me. I need to feel it. I want it so bad. I want to make you both feel good.”    “You want to make us feel good?” Theseus repeated. “Such a sweet little girl you are, wanting to please us. But we all know your secret.”     Theseus turned to Newt. “Should we give her what she wants?” He asked.     Newt looked up at your pleading eyes, so sweet and innocent despite them begging for him to fuck you. How could he ever deny you?     “Yes,” he said finally. With that, Theseus picked you up with ease and carried you upstairs to the bedroom. Newt followed behind and once Theseus placed you on the bed he began fully stripping himself of his clothes. Newt followed his brother’s actions, closing the door behind him and peeling off his shirt and pants. You watched them under the candlelight, admiring the two beautiful brothers and their different bodies.     You’d seen Theseus naked a hundred times before but it never ceased to excite you. He was large in every sense of the word. He was tall and had a wide, muscular chest with strong arms and thighs to match. Newt’s body was new and different. Newt was tall as well, only a couple inches shorter than his older brother. Surprisingly, Newt was more muscular and lean. His abs were more pronounced and taut in comparison. Both brothers were freckled, the younger of the two having more of them with accompanying scars. They were beautiful. Having two gorgeous men naked in front of you made you feel nervous and self-conscious. Without realizing it, you had pulled your dress up to cover your body. But Theseus was having none of that.     He crawled over to you on the bed, moving your hands and pulling your dress back down to your waist. Newt sat on the bed as well and pulled the dress down the rest of the way, discarding it on the floor. Theseus trailed kisses up your stomach, chest, neck, and face until he reached your lips. He kissed you passionately and tenderly, reaching for your right hand to intertwine his fingers with yours while Newt peppered soft kisses up your legs and thighs. Their attempt at relaxing you and distracting you from your thoughts worked, and you melded with them both.     “Theseus...” you whispered against his lips because you knew how much he liked hearing it. He shushed you, pecking the corners of your lips.     “Just relax, darling,” he muttered. His hand left yours to grab your thigh, spreading your legs apart.     Newt’s kisses lingered on your inner thigh, nipping, sucking, and biting the sensitive flesh. You trembled under their touch, not sure what to expect next. Theseus hovered over you on your right, covering you with kisses and massaging your breasts while Newt neared dangerously close to your core.     “Such a sweet girl,” Theseus said between kisses.     “I wonder if she tastes just as sweet,” said Newt.     “She does,” Theseus confirmed. “But you’ll just have to taste for yourself.”     The sudden feeling of Newt’s warm tongue licking a licentious stripe along your heat made you gasp. He kissed and sucked on your lower lips, occasionally darting his tongue in and out of your entrance. He licked up and down your dripping cunt before finally swirling his tongue around your clit. Your hips bucked and twitched as he drew figure-eights with his tongue over your sensitive bud. Theseus held your right leg while Newt held down your left, ensuring you kept your legs open for them.    “F-fuck, Newt,” you sighed and closed your eyes, resting your head back into the fluff of the pillow.     Theseus was sucking the skin at the crook of your neck, determined to leave a mark. His hand on your thigh trailed closer and closer to your center until his skilled fingers reached your entrance under Newt's chin. He easily slid his longest digit inside and curled it upwards, instantly finding that spot he knew so well. He pumped his finger in and out, making sure to brush against your g-spot. Soon he added another finger and quickened his pace. Between Newt’s assault on your clit and Theseus’s fingers deep inside you, you were ambushed by another orgasm. White flashed behind your eyes and your hips spasmed. Newt sucked on your clit and Theseus vigorously fingered your hole as you rode out your high until you became too sensitive to touch and begged them to stop.     “No, no, no, baby,” Theseus muttered in your ear. “We can’t stop now,” he said. “We haven't ‘fucked you within an inch of your life’ yet.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. They weren't done with you yet.     Newt came up from between your legs and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “Can you taste it?” he asked. “Your sweetness. I can’t get enough of it. I don’t think I ever will.”     Your lips chased his, wanting him to kiss you deeper. You were sandwiched between the two men, Theseus at your back, and Newt before you. You felt Theseus’s cock press flush against your ass while Newt's poked between your legs.     “Are you ready for us, darling?” Theseus asked as he nibbled at your ear.     “Yes,” you answered against Newt’s lips before he slid his tongue back down your throat.     Being as gentle as they could, the two brothers eased their cocks inside of you, introducing you to a whole new sensation. You had never been stretched out like this, with two cocks filling your holes at once. It was strange and slightly uncomfortable at first. They knew this, which is why they took their time, distracting you with their mouths and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and ensuring you were okay.     “You’re doing so well,” they’d say.     “You feel so good.”     “You’re so wonderful, darling.”     “Are we hurting you, sweetheart?”     “Relax for us, my love.”     Theseus’s hand once again found your clit and he began lightly circling it with his fingers to give you some relief. It didn't take long for it to work and your body opened up for them with ease. They pushed deeper inside, inch by inch until they were fully sheathed in your flesh. They both whispered their own set of curses, letting out soft grunts and moans as they began slowly rocking their hips into you.     “Fuuuck,” Theseus moaned. “This ass is so fucking tight. You’re being so good for us, darling.”     “So, so good, love,” panted Newt. “You make us feel so good.”     Your high-pitched mewls and pretty sighs were like music to their ears. They completely engulfed you, body and soul. The world simply slipped away and nothing else mattered besides them, Theseus and Newt, making you feel better than you had ever felt before. You couldn't get enough of them, nor could they get enough of you. You were intoxicated by their scent, their bodies, and their moans. In your minds, you all tried to comprehend how lucky you all were to be in this moment. Nothing could be better than this. Nothing.     “This is it, isn't it?” Theseus panted in your ear. “Your secret. You’ve always wanted this. To have your holes stretched out by our cocks. Does it excite you, my darling, fucking two brothers? One just wasn't enough, was it? You had to have both. Well, now you have it. Now you’re taking our cocks like the good little girl you are, just like you wanted because we decided to give it to you. You should thank us. Go on and thank us, darling. Tell us how much you appreciate being filled up and fucked, blinded by your own pleasure.”     “T-th...Thank you,” you choked out, tears brimming your waterline. “Thank you so much! I wanted this. I always wanted this!”     “Good girl,” Newt praised, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Such a good, good, girl for us. We’re glad to give it to you...Whatever you want, y/n. Whatever you want—a-ah!”      Newt’s thrusts got faster and sloppier, as did Theseus’s. They both worked hard to bury themselves deep inside you. It came to a point where both their cocks were brushing against your g-spot, one after the other. You felt the knot in your core again, that delicious, evanescent knot tightening, ticking like a bomb about to explode and send you to your euphoric escape.     “Oh, God!” You gasped, digging your nails into the skin of Newt’s back and Theseus’s thighs. “Don’t stop! P-please...right there! S-Shit, I love you!” You proclaimed. “Both of you. God, I love both of you so much!”     This seemed to excite them even more, something you didn't know was possible. They thrust into you faster than they ever had before, their winded breaths filling your ears.     “I love you,” Newt breathed. “So...so much...More than anything.” He kissed your lips.     “I love you too, darling,” grunted Theseus. “My sweet girl...Always.” He kissed your lips too.     In that moment the three of you bonded, body and soul. You all came at once, their bodies falling flush against you, twitching in satisfaction. For a while you just lay there as they held you and listened to the sound of their breaths while you waited for the sweet, buzzing feeling to dim. When it did, Theseus got up to fetch a towel from the bathroom, leaving you and Newt cuddled up on the bed, whispering sweetly to one another. They helped clean you up and embraced you with their warmth. You just stared at them, sharing kisses, twirling hair, giggling, holding hands, and gazing lovingly into their eyes. There wasn't much to say. You all knew. You didn’t need to say it. You could feel it in the room. You were complete.     “Do you smell something burning?” Theseus asked suddenly. You and Newt sniffed the air and your eyes widened like saucers.    “THE FUCKING TURKEY!” You gasped, and struggled your way out from between your two lovers, picking one of their shirts from off the floor to cover yourself as you ran downstairs to save what was left of your forgotten Christmas dinner.     Newt and Theseus smiled to themselves and chuckled. There was an awkward silence as they lay there alone, both unsure of what to say or do next.     “I do know how lucky I am, by the way.” Theseus was the first to speak.     “I know,” said Newt.     Theseus turned to his brother. “You can be lucky too...If you want.”     Newt blinked, not fully believing he’d heard what he thought he heard.     “She loves you,” said Theseus.     “She loves you too,” Newt reminded him.     “I know. And we both love her.”     “And we both love her.”      It was as simple as that.     “Thank you, Theseus,” said Newt.     Theseus scoffed and playfully pushed Newt’s shoulder.     “Happy Christmas, Newt.”     “Happy Christmas, Theseus.”

[gentrychild]

O great Owl and thou noble fic-finding rats I come because I have failed to find that which I need.

There is a work, apart of your Anyone universe, where Izuku is writing a Quirk Analysis Paper and he wakes AfO up so he can see a mutation quirk which enlarges AfO's arm. I have combed through all of Anyone and then through your side works that take place in this universe. But I found nothing.

The only thing I can think is that it was a tumblr post or a fanfic one of your blog mates wrote for you. But alas, I am still here.

In exchange I swear that if my firstborn ever starts stealing quirks I will buy all the therapists, and if that fails I will leave him to your fic-finders with no rivers in sight. And they may nibble on him for all of forever.

With reverence and sincerity, -me

I have some bad news and good news for you. The bad news is that his is something I wrote and posted on Tumblr, and you will never find it again even if you scroll through the entire Anyone tag. The good news is that you must be especially lucky as I found it by pure luck in a file I had forgotten.

----------

Izuku, sitting on his bed, books and notebooks opened on all of its surface, clicked his pen. Once, twice, thrice, the sound echoing in the silent apartment without doing anything to bring the answer the teenager desperately needed.

Usually, deadlines weren’t a problem for him. For some obscure reasons, the teachers in his high school were trusting him no matter what he did and forging his mom’s signatures to excuse his many absences had become the routine. However, he needed to finish this paper for tomorrow morning, so Hebisuga could read it and save her grade in Meta Analysis. That way, she would stop worrying so much about this subject, focus back on her Japanese, and write once again her ridiculously good flash cards that she always accepted to share with Yuuto and him.

But right now… Izuku’s brain just wasn’t cooperating.

He got up, his back protesting as he stopped hunching over for the first time in a couple of hours, and he left his bedroom. His notebook in hand, he walked past the bathroom and knocked at the door of the master bedroom, currently invaded by the bane of his existence while his blissfully ignorant mother was away.

The door opened in the second, All for One appearing in front of him, his hair messy and his face showing the trace of the pillow but no sign of sleepiness. The villain was one of those persons who immediately passed from sleep to alertness while Izuku needed three cups of coffee to be semi-conscious.

“What is it?” the villain asked. “Did you-“

“Show me your mutation quirks, please. Preferably the one that can offer some kind of protection.”

“What makes you think that-“                                                                       

Izuku clicked his pen once again and just stared at the quirk-stealing-fiend.

All for One finally obliged, making his arm grow in size, muscles growing until it had gruesomely swollen up, and he even added some spear-like bones. Bewildered, he answered every questions Izuku had about the drawbacks, the weight, how much he could still move his arm, and so on.

Because if analyzing quirks was his passion and could become a job, words in a book didn’t mean anything to Izuku. He needed to ask questions, to make theories, to see them in action.

Once he was done and had all the elements he needed, he thanked All for One and walked back to his room without offering any explanation. But of course, his roommate didn’t need one.

“Did you just use me to finish your homework? At three AM?”

[bethanydelleman]

So I do think the lady who wrote this stupid book has a point about modern media excusing terrible behaviour with tragic backstories, because I read a lot of justifications of Darcy that are centred in Darcy having TRAUMA. Poor boy didn't mean to be rude at the Meryton assembly, he's a poor little orphan who just had sister troubles.

Except that blaming this trend/trope on Austen is insane, because Darcy does not excuse his behaviour in this way AT ALL. He does blame his education somewhat, but if anything his excuse is that his parents loved him so darn much that he became a brat. That's not trauma, that's Trust Fund Baby Syndrome.

In fact, the one person who attempts a trauma explanation of Darcy is... Wickham! He claims that Darcy Sr. loved him more than Darcy Jr., causing Fitzwilliam to be jealous of Wickham. Which would be kind of understandable, if it were true, but Darcy doesn't really seem to care about this and clearly loved his father, so if anything Wickham was a minor annoyance in his life pre-Ramsgate.

The narrator says clearly that Darcy has always been like this, it isn't a trauma reaction, "He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and fastidious; and his manners, though well bred, were not inviting... Bingley was sure of being liked wherever he appeared; Darcy was continually giving offence." And Darcy confirms this, he's been rude "from eight to eight-and-twenty" The only time he brings up the whole Georgiana thing is to tell Elizabeth about it, he never blames that event for his behaviour.

If anything, Jane Austen was a proponent of "explain but not excuse". Lucy Steele is mercenary because she is barely clinging to her status in the gentry, but she's still portrayed as a villain because the way she goes about trying to secure Edward (and later Robert) is fundamentally wrong. Mary Crawford has a back story full of trauma, she's an orphan twice over, her uncle sounds like a misogynist creep, and yet Austen doesn't accept it as an excuse, Mary must become better to be worthy of Edmund. Willoughby is an orphan, he's in debt, he's made bad choices, but he needs to do better and because he doesn't, he's not worthy of Marianne.

My Point: Don't blame Austen for the trauma excuses all bad behaviour trope, because she didn't start it and she frequently subverted it!

[fancifulplaguerat]

Particularly fascinated with Yulia this fine evening. How her character deals with applying logic to the illogical, and her “Tripwires of Fate” theory presents an almost rational counterpart to the Mistress’ prophetic abilities. @shriika said it best, that Yulia’s character poses the question, can you accept the existence of all the miraculous and unearthly and assign it reason and logic, which Imo first subtly appears in how Yulia treats twyre and disease. She claims that despite twyre’s supposed preternatural properties are “superstitions and remarkably little else. It has psychoactive properties, after a fashion, but then so does simple wormwood.” She likewise claims that the shabnak is no less a “real” than bacteria as a plague-source; that the shabnak and microbes are two understandings of reality. I.e. she says, “You amaze me, Bachelor. Did you not make fun of the shabnak rumours yesterday? […] Still, you don’t hesitate a moment to accept a rumour of an epidemic as veritable truth. Is the concept of the disease that much more familiar to you than that of a maneating abomination made of clay?” To me, these rationalizations introduce how she is a crossroads between the fantastical elements in the story, particularly how Patho Classic treats fate.

Yulia’s character concept best clarifies her Tripwires of Fate theory; that she kept a diary in Town which allowed her to recognize “a rather symmetrical conclusion about the reaction between the movements of those people in town and the seemingly random events happen afterwards. […] Now Yulia is preoccupied with the question whether these patterns are just a coincidence.” She herself says, “The world is defined by a plethora of causal relationships. These causalities, however, are located at different tiers of human perception.” This outlines the foundations of Yulia’s construction of fate, which leads directly into discussion of the Mistresses: “Take my own death, for instance. In our town, such coincidences have put together several women whose inexplicable aptitude allows them to see the whole chain of cause-effect connections. They also see where the chain would lead; which is to my death.” Daniil can then ask how Mistresses predict the future, or whether people can affect the “course of causes and consequences.” Yulia caveats her answer, but clarifies that a Mistress “would not hesitate to reveal the future” only if she “were to intuit that there is not man or woman capable of breaking—or mending—these kinds of connections.” This explanation is based in Yulia’s vocabulary: she uses these cause-and-effect chains of likelihood to foresee events, such as anticipating Clara’s visits. But Yulia’s explanation is one of the most explicit insights the game offers on the mechanisms of the Mistress’ clairvoyance, so I’m inclined to treat it as more than just Yulia applying her own vocabulary to the phenomenon. Rather, as one way the game might want us to see how foretelling works here; especially since this explanation is remarkably close to how Simon describes magic in some game material. 

Simon claims that he does not practice magic, but manipulates “an invisible combination of causes, leading to moderately predictable consequences.” He specifically claims, “To produce a magical construct sometimes requires tens of even hundreds of people. They must be close at hand, and they must be predictable. To take their life line, read them, learn to make a match: that’s an art that you call magic.” Simon’s ‘magic’ appears to parallel the Mistress’ clairvoyance, as it rests within predictable or assured cause-and-effect. It also apparently allows for human action alongside some kind of predetermination, because as the Mistress apparently only foretell futures that individuals’ actions will not change, human will and predetermination are put aside one another, but not apparently conflated. This also recalls Yulia to me in that Simon ‘explains’ his magic through patterns and order—constructs which can be placed on the irrational to rationalize it. With regards to Yulia, Simon’s statement is most similar to when Yulia explains her apparent loss of sense to Daniil in their first dialogue; that she has “lost [her] ability to make distinctive events coincide.”

Another parallel between Yulia and Simon/the Mistresses is their role in constructing the Town. Simon/the Mistresses are its metaphysical architects, while Yulia played a role in its construction or design, having come to town with an engineering team “when the town was being rebuilt.” Yulia also joins her understanding of fate to the Town proper, as her character concept contextualises her theory thus: “there are invisible strings that cross every road in town (collectively — a Path); cutting them will result in a series of harmful accidents.” So to me, Yulia ultimately offers a “rational” equivalent to the Mistresses and Simon in a way, where she helped design the Town and is capable of perceiving the connections between events which grant one the ability to prophesy in-universe. She is logical rather than in the fantastical domain of the Mistresses, characterizing her foretelling through the scientific. She states, “[…] I base my speculations on rigorous research, even though it may not look veritable enough to you. You see, in order to calculate the probability of either outcome, I had to extrapolate the two mathematical functions, which you may find to be somewhat... esoteric” or “Oh, the joy I feel when everything falls well in line with what I have predicated—by which I don’t mean the brute probabilism your mother would sort to, but a watertight, well-ground calculation of likelihood!”  

Yulia also poses an interesting counterpart to Daniil; both are rationalists with a tendency towards the fantastic, yet Yulia is a fatalist and Daniil consistently refutes fate’s existence. Both characters’ theories foreground imminence and inevitability—Yulia literally theorizes over inevitable fate, while Daniil’s fight against death is sometimes framed as one against inevitability. Daniil even tells her, “You wouldn’t believe it, but some of my theories are quire similar to yours” and “The story of my life, believe it or not. Trying desperately to draw their attention to what seems to be painfully obvious, offering any conceivable proof that these ‘coincidences’ must be studied! To no avail.” But what really makes me want to bury myself in the floorboards is Daniil’s claim that, “I would have told you that I’d been brought here by the hand of fate not so long ago, naïve man that I was…” That is. Both Yulia and Daniil appear as people who have, to an extent, distanced themselves in different ways from aspects of Utopian doctrine, but Daniil remains a Utopian while Yulia obviously does not, and instead founded the Humble ideology. Lara’s portrait quote address this somewhat: “This fatalism of hers is depressing and crushing, and it’s appalling to see a mind that bright base its theories upon a false foundation. I believe that any predetermination is an insult to the freedom of choice. I guess it all goes back to the past, when she worked with the Dream Party.” This is my speculation, but I think Yulia’s fatalism and according view of human nature explains her potential broken alignment with the Utopians, as it is incompatible with their ideology.

For one, Yulia’s theory is ultimately about the necessity of death, which is framed as her “crime.” When Clara claims that Yulia isn’t evil, Artemy rebuts her specifically by saying that “Yulia is the ideologist of humility. She came up with a scientific justification of necessary death.” Yulia says of herself, “I don’t qualify as wicked, but you can call me a criminal… in a way. Just don’t conflate the two. You see, I am of the opinion that it was your duty to end us.” Both dialogues suggest that Yulia believed—presumably on account of her dabbles in Fate—that the Plague could only end with Clara’s sacrifice, that the only way out was through death. Besides Yulia’s general we’re doomed talk, she tells Clara, “I get the feeling that every move you make may be reliable predicted. This is not an opportunity I would ever miss for it feeds remarkably well into one of my theories… perhaps, the most pessimistic of them all.” That latter sentence feels like proof, to me, that her theory of “necessary death” is about Clara’s ending. Yulia’s conclusions thus feel antithetical with the Utopians,’ not just narratively, but that the Utopians are all about possibility.

I also want to look at this dialogue between Yulia and Daniil:

Yulia Lyuricheva: Is this so? If I die, the universe would not notice my passing. But what if there are people who are the walking embodiment of the law by which events are connected to each other? What would happen to the universe if any one of these people were to die? Bachelor: Do you think you are such a person? Yulia Lyuricheva: When I was a child I took enormous pleasure in thinking I was one. Later in my life, as a student, I rather saw it as an honour of which I was not necessarily deserving. Today, however, I treat it as a somewhat scornful affliction. Bachelor: Why? Yulia Lyuricheva: People like these are a natural hazard. Their mission exists as long as they believe in it, and others suffer from its consequences.

The dialogue trees point to Yulia speaking about Simon here, and in that sense it provides more possible internal logic for why Yulia became disaffected with Utopianism. Yet Yulia’s portrayal of Simon feels very Clara-esque to me as well. As I have mentioned before, there is a consistent idea to Clara’s character that her faith in herself is what manifests her miracle-working abilities, as according to Rat Prophet, “everything she believes in comes true.” This dialogue with Daniil then seemingly underlies Yulia’s gradual disaffection with Utopian values and subtly introduces her dynamic and view of Clara. Yulia is certainly intrigued and fascinated by Clara, but not particularly warm or empathetic to her. When Clara speaks of being a saint, Yulia is fairly harsh with her, she says, “You? A saint? What kind of imbecile would call you that? Is there even a God that you believe in? You are a changeling, and your sainthood is the lamest kind of mimetic apery.” Yulia appears interested in Clara only insofar as she is convinced that Clara is destined to end her and others in the Town, and in doing prove Yulia’s theories. On the Clara note, I think another element to Yulia’s incompatibility with Utopianism is how Yulia views humanity, since she professes to believe that human nature is evil, telling Clara “Let me remind you how intrinsically evil people are.”

Of course, that might be an exception, but caveats aside: the Utopians believe emphatically in the “power of the human spirit and the infinitive scope of creativity,” a sentiment reinforced by Daniil’s “The point is that in this case, the winner will be […] mere humanity. Any kind of it—even malicious, and yet still a living one.” Humanity appears central to Utopian doctrine, and so someone who considers humanity evil feels necessarily opposed with this to me. I also have no conclusions to this, but cannot stop chewing on how in this game, which so heavily lambasts utopia, Yulia’s conviction in inevitable death is a wicked thing, particularly since she created the philosophy of the healer who manages to break free from fate. I *cannot* stop thinking of it in context of that Saburov quote, that, “A desire for miracles, an endeavour to achieve the impossible... are inherent to humans. However ugly the particular form they might take. Who can dare deprive humans of a dream?” Yet maybe Yulia has some lingering Utopian sentiments? Particularly in her affection for Eva, someone who Imo epitomizes Utopian ideology yet whom Victor describes as “enamored of death so bizarrely and persistently” and resolves her aspiration for the miraculous through her own death. There is just smth about Yulia being in love with someone who for better and worse seemingly embodies Yulia’s potential old ideals alongside her present conclusions about inevitable damning fate...

[xximpressions]

The Duchess (8)

Anthony Bridgerton x Duchess!reader

Series Summary: After coming into a title you did not expect, you have a chance encounter with a handsome rescuer.

Chapter Summary: A plan is hatched

Word Count: 1,161

A/N: Shout out to @urfavnoirette and @itsprashimusic for letting me know I have true fans out there!!! You're the reasons this chapter happened 😊😘

Bridgerton Masterlist

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With confusion clouding your mind at the comment the Lady of the house just made, you were forced to say in order to gain some understanding,

“Forgive me…but how do you mean, your Grace?”

With a hint of coyness still twinkling in her eyes and tone, the last one to speak raised her hand first and said with a kind smile,

“Please, call me Daphne!”

Before she proceeded by saying,

“And I simply meant that if you were to engage in a similar ruse with say, my brother here, then maybe, this pesky brother-in-law of yours will take the hint that his constant attentions are not wanted.”

The casual shrug she added to the end of her sentence was convincing enough that you really believed she was simply making a good suggestion that surely was only made to help you our of your concerning predicament.

But in the mind of the Viscount seated next to you on the couch, he was very aware that this suggestion was anything but innocently said and was failing to keep his mind from racing at such a thought.

And as he struggled, you responded with,

“Well, I suppose I can see how such an idea has merit, but however would we pull it off?”

And luckily, the Duchess seated across from you was only to happy to explain.

“All you would need to do is pretend to form an attachment with my brother then your brother-in-law will realize that you are no longer available and will back off! It is the perfect plan that will surely work for you as it surely did for me.”

And after hearing such a follow-up explanation, you could admit you were intrigued when you responded with,

“But how would such a plan work? My brother-in-law is quite tenacious, so I am not sure how we would be able to convince him to give up his pursuits…?”

You finished hesitatingly, but Anthony was only too happy to reassure you with an idea of his own.

“We could host a ball! Here at Clyvedon!”

He said with excited determination.

“Then he, along with the rest of the ton, can witness our ruse of being romantically involved with one another. That way, this man will stop bothering you, and all the debutantes in polite society will stop bothering me. Daphne is right, it is perfect!”

And though the Viscount understood why he had to hide how hopeful he was that you might accept such an idea, you had to hide the fact that such an idea made you quite giddy on the inside to know it would make you spend more time the presence of this kind and generous person.

So without further thought, you agreed by saying with an accepting and excited smile, 

“Well, I suppose we should get started then!”

By the end of the conversation, all of the details had been finalized amongst you all as you sat around the fireplace. 

By the end of the week, invitations had been sent out in time for guests to be in attendance for a grand gathering at the Clyvedon estate in time for the next weekend.

And by the beginning of the ball, your ruse had also been allowed to start as you stood next to the Viscount and his mother near the entrance in order to help greet your guests as they began to show up.

Though it was the other Duchess who originally suggested you and Anthony pretend to form an attachment specifically for this gathering, it was actually their mother who had the foresight to have you stand with them as the attendees arrived.

“If you want people to think you will soon be an addition to this family, then you must help the ton to believe such an idea by playing your parts correctly.”

She had explained with an encouraging and sly smile as the guests started to show.

And you had to admit, the more time you spent greeting each person along with the Viscount, the Duke, and Daphne, the more you could feel people’s curiosities were growing since no official explanations were offered whenever a person inquired about your particular presence.

“Oh, I am just returning the favor to my generous hosts by assisting them with this magically grand endevour. I hope you enjoy your time here tonight as much as I have!”

Would be the typically vague response you gave if and when someone asked what your role was in this lighthearted event that was actually strategically taking place.

After a while, with the ballroom crowded with various Lords, Ladies, and gentlemen, you mentioned to Anthony that you would be stepping away for a moment just to get something to drink and left to find the refreshment table amongst the throng of people gathered for a night of fun.

Upon reaching it, you allowed a small, private smile to grow on your face as well since you could admit to yourself that this was the most amusement you have had in a while as you neared the table holding a bowl of punch and other light snacks.

But you supposed all good things must come to an end when you heard an unfortunately familiar voice say behind you,

“Well, you certainly look ravishing tonight, your Grace.”

Turning to see your inebriated brother-in-law stood behind you, a shiver of disgust had to be suppressed when his eyes obviously took the time to rake up and down your clothed body in order to take in the exquisite gown you were wearing to match your status as a Duchess.

Continuing his inappropriate ogling, the pathetic excuse for a man went on to say,

“Do me the honor of a dance, your Grace?”

With his hand being the last thing you wanted to touch, you tried to minimize the way you wanted to recoil when he then held it out to you.

Whether it was held out as an invitation or as a demand, you would never know.

Because thankfully, at that exact moment, your official ruse partner came to your rescue once again.

“My apologies, Sir. But you see, the lady has already promised me her first three dances, and the rest are promised to my brothers.”

Gladly taking the Viscount’s extended arm, you were grateful when he disingenuously said,

“But better luck next time!”

Finishing with a false smile, he then led you away from the drunk that was left behind speechless, jealous, and without another word.

That smile remained in place until you were far away enough from your brother-in-law that he could not hear Anthony quietly but determinedly say to you from the side.

“It seems we are going to have to get creative if this is to work properly.”

Before directing a coy but reassuring grin your way.

And upon seeing it, you found it a little easier to smile yourself as you neared the dancefloor for the first time of the night.

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@itsprashimusic | @urfavnoirette

[idontknowwhatimdoinglol]

Hera x reader (trust) pt. 3

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"Where is my mother" the voice asks, pressing the handle of the hammer tighter against your throat. "i-i don't know w-who you're talking about" you cough out confused. he grunts not liking your answer. "Don't lie to me mortal" he growls. you struggle against his hold. "let them go" hera says from the entrance of your house. the man stands there a bit frozen. "i said let them go ares" she says a little more harshly, he releases you, letting you fall to the ground as he goes to her. "Mother, are you alright? has the mortal hurt you?" he asks concerned for her. "the only thing this mortal has done is nurse me to health. so you will not hurt them." she says firmly. he nods, you stand up brushing off your clothes. "who are you?" you ask ares. "i am ares, god of war, i apologize for my accusations." he says sincerely. "its alright, you were concerned for you mother." you reply kindly. his expression softens a bit. "we must return to mount Olympus at once, i thank you for your kindness towards my mother." he says preparing to walk away. "ares I'm not going back." Hera says firmly. he gives her a confused look. "but it's our home." he says waiting for an explanation. "i will never be accepted back. i released the giants, i was responsible for the mortal electras death and I am the reason that your father is gone. the other gods will never allow me to return" she says sadly. you listen from your spot afar, you feel sorry that she lost her home. you knew deep down that something must have happened to cause her to react like that. Hera may be scary but she wasn't evil. you knew that from the moment you saw her. "if you'd like you are welcome to stay here" you offer, ares looks to his mother and she nods. "my son will return to Olympus, but I will accept your offer of shelter here." hera says. you nod and she hugs her son goodbye for now. then the two of you walk back into your home, unaware of the eyes watching you from afar.

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[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - LIII

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Fic is rated explicit; MDNI. Mind the tags. Chapter on AO3 here.

With your first draft finished in its entirety, you delved into edits and adjustments as rehearsals picked up.  At times, you wished you had the talent for brass instruments and percussion if only to spare the sections from the agony of enduring minute changes that stemmed from a small voice of uncertainty.  It was not the way it should have been done (especially with such a tight schedule) but there was little choice. 

The Tsaritsa offered up a challenge and you could not back out now.

Doubly so when, one day, a box arrived with your name on it with fabric samples and an appointment card with the Archon’s own seamstress.

Thankfully, the fitting and sketching was already behind you and you only needed to manage a final session.  You couldn’t afford the distractions.

Even if it was shaping up to be a perfect dress.

The offer for assistance from the Tsaritsa went well beyond your outfit.  You returned to your rooms before dinner one day to find a handmaiden and a private guard being interrogated by Zandik; behind them, several open velvet boxes with jewels and precious metals spilling out across your coffee table.  Said boxes were packed up before you could even put your things down.

Zandik knew your question, in the way one knew how their lover took their tea.   There laid the fulcrum that balanced you ever since you awoke: you were synced, whether you were cognizant of it or not.

“Her generosity is kind but it is not her place to decide what jewels you wear.  I will not have you weighed down by additional…expectations,” he said when you settled in.

You nodded, appreciative of his lack of further explanation; you would have done the same, been protective of his time and energy.

It was one thing for the Tsaritsa to help with your dress when you had never been to an event of this scale before (and certainly never in such a capacity, attending alongside a high-ranking official and composing the opening music).  While accessories might fall under the purview of your evening attire, they came at a cost that only raised the stakes.  And you already had enough to lose.

“What, would she ask for our first-born child if I accepted that collar of aquamarines, Zandik?” you teased as you leafed through recent correspondence.

When you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, mask absent, you couldn’t help but smile at the pink that tinted his ears.  He had been in the middle of removing his own mask and his crimson eyes lingered on your form, brow twitching.

Between your own career and Zandik’s position, both as a diplomat and the one responsible for finding a means to unite the Descender remains to confront Celestia, it was difficult to ascertain anything past the notion of surviving whatever fallout would occur.

And while one could account for possibilities, Zandik often said, one must be prepared for the most logical ones.

“She might.  Or she might ask for you if she were dissatisfied in the progress with Celestia.”

His eyes locked on yours and the pink only grew worse.  It reached his cheeks before he grimaced slightly, tugging at his cravat as he walked away towards the bedroom.  He paused as if contemplating, and then looked over his shoulder, expression softer.

“Either one I would prefer to never experience.  Best to return all unexpected packages until further notice.”

The future wasn’t something you often joked about, really discussed outside of immediate goals.  Some days it never felt quite within reach, amorphous and haunting, trailing behind you like a shadow at sunset.  Other moments, like now, it was tangible, found in carefully written notes and shared glances and laughs. 

Accessible only in this room, this little bubble of your own making.

If there was a sole benefit to visiting Northland Bank to meet with Lord Pantalone, rather than at the Palace, it was that the building was on the way to rehearsals. 

You waited in the private guest area, tea untouched and cloak falling around you like a protective shroud.  Despite your guard, you had little reason to trust anything served to you in the Regrator’s domain ever since your last encounter.  Not to mention, you weren’t thirsty and would find better tea waiting for you at the performance hall, brewed under supervision.

The pair of double doors opened, a black hand hovering on the knob as its owner turned back to speak.  All you caught was mention of someone being unable to join for the foreseeable future, the voice distinctly feminine and with a familiar Fontainian lilt.

You angled your head slightly to get a better glimpse.  Black and white hair, arranged over her face like the wings of a bird, white tailcoat with a shining red brooch.  Eyes that, instead of pupils, were marked by red eyes met yours.

The one who came and pulled Columbina away, so long ago.  Your stomach sank.  The last thing she ever said to you rang in your ears as you bowed and received the gesture in return.

Something you were still getting used to and you doubt you ever would entirely. 

“How good to see you again, maestra.  I often hear you but never see you.  Surely our Doctor is not attempting to keep you from the world?”

“No, my lord; if anything, he ensures I see more of it,” you extended a hand out of the confines of your cloak, palm up, as you gestured to her presence as a case-in-point.  “Congratulations on your success.”

“It doesn’t come close to that of your companion’s but at least I didn’t need two of me to accomplish it.”

The words felt like fine sandpaper across your skin; only abrasive in their smaller details.  Such sentiments were not unfamiliar, both in your new home and from your previous experiences.

“There were two Gnoses.  His approach simply allowed him to go after both.”

“And yet an argument has been made from several parties that your presence is the true success.  It isn’t every day the Doctor leaves and returns with company that is essentially equal to him, shares his quarters, has audiences with Her Majesty.”

You trained your eyes on the Knave.  She knew, all those months ago, that you were far more skilled with another instrument.  It did not take a carefully discerning ear to notice it, granted, but the thought teased your brain more often than you wished it did.

Soon enough, the truth would spill out anyway just by sheer proximity and educated guesses.

“And what side do you usually take, my lord?” you replied, tilting your head with a small smile.

“That it’s about time the deranged scientist pulled himself out of his lab every once in a while,” Arlecchino replied, lips quirked as she pressed a sharp nail to her lips.

The door behind her opened and before the topic could continue, the Knave crossed her arms, hands cradling her elbows.  Pantalone loomed behind her, golden eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

“I would be honored if you would join me for tea next week, if you’re available, maestra,” Arlecchino said.    “While many parts of Snezhnayan culture and social structure are similar enough, I’m sure you feel the sense of…isolation that comes with the adjustment.  One fellow Fontainian to another.  And I would be remiss if you were not filled in on other details regarding the events that transpired during my visit.”

She turned her head over her shoulder and regarded the other Harbinger.  “Regrator.”

“The steps outside are slippery.  Do be careful, Arlecchino.”

The honeyed tone did nothing to diffuse the moment and you kept your expression neutral.  From what you recalled, Arlecchino was the one of higher rank and therefore held the most authority.  But by attempting to extend an olive branch, or the appearance of one, to get the final word, Pantalone attempted to usurp even the subtle social differences.

Pantalone’s eyes closed when he turned his head back to you and received that sickeningly sweet smile.  All you were here for was to provide an update on your progress.  Not everything could be summarized easily within a written report and Pantalone did prefer a hands-on approach to his event planning.

“Do come in, maestra.  I doubt this will take long.”

Over the next couple of weeks, you continued to refine each section’s part during lessons, smoothing out player mistakes with the finished composition.  You were learning how it sounded piece by piece, understanding how each fit within the whole during a weekly group practice. 

Some days, you preferred to think your perspective and experience being in the chairs helped, that it lent itself to an understanding between all of you.  It got you through the moments of frustration, of nerves snapping, of personal sentiments laid bare.  An inevitability.  Working so closely with this many people, no one was alike. 

A rare few were more than happy to tell you off and walk away.  You let them.  They always came back and occasionally were willing to talk afterwards.  You heard of stories of the House of the Hearth, parents with sharp tongues and deep pockets, twisted versions of the Heavenly Principle that made your blood curdle.  Fontaine had been terrible but there was a purposeful cruelty to what they recounted. 

Passion and skill made for good performances but did not mean a willing presence. 

More than once, you caught spines straightening at Pantalone’s unexpected presence every so often.  For a Harbinger of the lowest rank you ever interacted with, he seemed to carry fear itself in his walking stick.

It was a balance, one you weren’t sure if you liked, but one you knew how to navigate.

Columbina was the only other Harbinger to occasionally come by or accompany you in a capacity that was not meant to terrify (or so she claimed).  She would dance in the center aisle by herself while you conducted, her hair trailing behind her and her limbs moving in ways that made you recall the most avant garde dance instructors in Fontaine.  You didn’t see it as a distraction; in fact, it made for good practice for those who were strictly used to stage performance, where they did not have a moving environment. 

Today was one of those frustrating days.  You could see it on everyone’s faces, in the way some stretched their fingers and rolled their necks.

The Third was, instead of in the aisle, hovering near you towards the front of the stage.  You were briefly aware of her shuffling papers around at the table you used for your things.  She was generally unable to sit still, like a bird next to an open window, or a loose piece of paper waiting to be caught by the wind.  As you started the movement and gestured for the first note and then the second, the movements for the time signature so ingrained in you that you no doubt did them in your sleep, you listened for the progression of instruments, the depth and fullness growing with every bar. 

The brass kept the rhythm more than the percussion, the woodwinds were light and lilting.  You swore you were hearing an echo of a harmony, timed perfectly.  But you hadn’t written one, not there.

Where was that strange sound coming from?  It sounded like it was coming from your left…

Thankful for the wide peripheral vision, you glanced at Columbina to find her mouth open, chest rising sharply as she inhaled.  She was perfectly on key, weaving her notes in-between the bouncing one-two-three as if she herself was dancing.  You continued conducting, listening for any inconsistencies, only to find everyone remained on beat and on key, undeterred by the addition.  A rich melancholy filled the air and when you finally closed out the last bar, the silence hung, a welcome companion.

There had been something missing, hadn’t there?  You’d written most of the waltz in a minor key, befitting of a land that always seemed to feel a little off in its love or lackthereof.  But parts of it felt hollow, incomplete. 

You hadn’t noticed until Columbina joined in and you were thankful for her presence.  It only made sense to have a few vocals.  A unique, unsettling sound, reflective of the Tsaritsa’s Will…

A smile crept over your lips as you rolled the conducting baton between your fingers. 

“Could you do that again, Damselette?  Center stage and a little more vibrato this time?”

She didn’t move immediately, throwing you an enigmatic twitch of the mouth.

“With pleasure.”

[actualbird]

Luke Pearce and Conditional Faith: When Does A Skeptic Believe (or When Does He Want To)?

wc: 1.4k

obligatory disclaimer that these are just my own thoughts and interpretations. spoilers ahead for: SSR Shape Of You (the summer breeze card), SSR Overflowing Thoughts (the sott card), SSR Twinkling Eyes (the skadi card), and Main Story 9. 

Luke is a skeptic. 

I feel like anyone who is familiar with his stories knows and fully accepts this fact. While he’s a very emotional and warm guy, when it comes to like, his general view of Reality, he is the type of person to believe more in facts, science, evidence, tangible proof, and empirical explanations. A lighthearted example of this is in Luke’s Sweet Chapter Personal Story 3, where he and MC were investigating that abandoned school that everybody said was haunted by spirits and Luke calmly proved that it was nothing more than faulty circuitry. And in the same scene, MC fondly remembers how in their childhood, when other kids were telling ghost stories, Luke would just exclaim “THAT DOESNT MAKE SENSE” and spoil the fun of the spook. He’s such a STEM guy, it drives me nuts. 

And his skepticism doesn’t just happen there. It pops up over and over across a lot of his stories, and not just in terms of the supernatural. In general, Luke is a skeptic of anything that can’t be empirically proved, including: folk beliefs, spiritual things, the divine/gods.

(sidenote 1: which is REALLY interesting given what I brought up in a previous analysis I did about Luke and Catholic Guilt. Like, so much of his mental framework and morality is something very familiar to the kinds of ways-of-thinking you’d see in this religion. And yet he’s not religious. god gives the biggest ironies to his most skeptical soldiers, or something).

So he’s a skeptic, that’s clear. 

Except it isn’t, because there are times when he does believe in faith. Or wants to believe in it. And these moments are made so striking because of Luke’s general disposition towards skepticism, which is why I’d like to do a deep dive of When Luke “Skeptic Extraordinaire” Pearce Decides Or Desires To Believe.

(sidenote 2: just a disclaimer, all folk beliefs, spiritual things, the different kinds of divine/gods are all obviously very different from each other and I’m not saying that they’re conflate-able, DEFINITELY NOT, but just that in Luke’s stories specifically, they Do serve the same purpose to him; they're something he doesn't believe in)

But before I go into when he Decides Or Desires To Believe, I wanna first tackle why he Doesn’t.

The first reason for why Luke is a skeptic is just his general inclination towards empiricism (things are proven via experience and experimentation) and rationalism (things are proven through logic and reason). Like how it happened in the abandoned school scene I mentioned before. And it makes sense for Luke. He’s a STEM guy, but he’s also a detective. Proof matters, and proof creates reality. 

But another reason is more personal. Sometimes Luke doesn’t believe because of a sense of Betrayal mixed in with a “Fuck It, I’ll Do It Myself” mentality. 

In SSR Overflowing Thoughts, the AU shows Luke originally being trained to be a temple priest while MC was originally trained to be an assassin. But after seeing the sheer suffering MC had to withstand day after day even after praying to the for a peaceful life, Luke took her place and then later remarks “If gods truly exist, then why didn’t they help you despite all your prayers?” and in the flashback, he says “If she dies one day during training [...] then I’ll stop believing in the gods.” 

Here, Luke’s non-belief is due to what he expects higher powers to have responsibility over; taking care of good people. While this card is an AU card, I think it still carries over to regular-Luke because of Luke’s very strong sense of morality, of good and bad. If higher powers are good, but they allow bad to happen, then they can’t be good, or they must not exist in the first place.

So someone else has to do it. In SSR Overflowing Thoughts, it was Luke who saved MC, not the gods. And in SSR Shape of You, during their childhood, Luke had gone missing during the festival to seek the Land God to make a wish to erase himself from existence because Luke believed he was a burden and was robbing MC of the love of her parents buuuuut in the present, Luke remarks that he himself will be the one to repay all the love he had robbed her of.

In a way this is an honestly pretty noble kind of non-belief. There’s a cynical aspect to it, but Luke doesn’t just go “gods aren’t real, cowabummer”. Instead, it’s more like “there are no gods to do the good we want to see in this world, so we have to do that good ourselves.” 

So those are what leads to his non-belief, which is 99.9% of the time. But the few times he does the opposite were interesting because Luke only tends to do it under two circumstances.

1) I Want To Believe In This Because I Love You

Two cards I wanna talk about here: SSR Twinkling Eyes and SSR Shape Of You (again, not sorry, this card is so important to this post and also to mE PERSONALLY AHVKHS). 

In SSR Twinkling Eyes, Luke was his usual skeptical self at the whole local faerie folk beliefs up until Peanut’s messing up that faerie house meant that under the belief system, misfortune might fall upon MC. 

In SSR Shape Of You, at the very end of the story, he releases lanterns that are all wishes for MC’s benefit.

In both these cases, whether or not he truly believes or simply Wants To is up to debate, but it is clear that he does ascribe to actions under something that requires faith due to his love for MC. 

What happened to Luke the skeptic? He’s still very much there but there’s caveats now. He’ll ascribe to a degree of belief if it means keeping MC safe, if it means ensuring her safety and happiness in the future. Which is so fucking sweet and tender, fucking hell, Luke “I’ll give the divine a chance if only for you” Pearce, OOOAAAUUUGGHH.

But where there’s light, there’s also dark. Because sometimes his reason is…

2) I Want To Believe In This Because I Hate Me

Two stories I wanna talk about here: SSR Shape Of You (this card is a legend, mentioned 3 times in this post alone…) and Main Story 9

In SSR Shape Of You, the entire reason Luke even looks for the Land God (thus implying that, if even for one night, he did believe in the god) was due to self-loathing. He saw himself as a burden, he wanted to wish he never existed and that nobody would remember him because he was convinced his mere presence caused bad.

In Main Story 9…..hoo boy, Main Story 9, HAHA. At the very end of the chapter, we see a flashback where Luke—a little bit after the mission where he was the only survivor—has this exchange with Aaron

Now, it could be argued that this is more psychological than it is spiritual (this whole thing smacks of unaddressed PTSD, after all) and while that Definitely is a factor, it’s key to note the language used here being specific: spirits, gods, believe. 

And why does Luke want to believe? Why does he wish it was real even if his usual inclination is skepticism? 

Because he’s guilty. He’s so guilty. And you only ever feel guilty when you think you’re in the wrong. You only ever apologize when you think you’re responsible for wrong.

He wants to believe because he thinks himself a sinner and that only afterlife can grant him a chance at absolution.

That’s the flipside of his belief. Either he loves another so much or hates himself too much. 

So like, now that we’re here, what does it all “Mean” then? Ehhhh nothing much tbh jHVKJ. It just Struck Me. It’s just something I really liked seeing because it’s such a genuine and human kind of ‘hypocrisy’; no matter how rooted in reality we are, when we’re driven by intense emotion (positive OR negative), we’ll grasp for more.

More what? More Anything. More answers, more possibilities, just…More. Sometimes intense emotion makes Just Reality feel like it isn’t enough to explain or address whatever we’re feeling. 

When Luke is pushed by his devoted love or by his intense self-loathing, the limits of tangible empirical reality just don’t cut it. He’ll believe or want to believe in something more.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Do you accept dead! reader angst? If you do, can you write reader who asks the RoR characters will they miss them if they died? Maybe the reader got attacked by a random god who is jealous of their relationship with both gods and humans in the Ragnarok.

Dead reader is too sad for me, but I will write angst to fluff that is similar! The only one that I felt fit where this was taking me was Loki, so this will be a Loki only post!

-You were hugging Loki from behind as he was sitting down, a playful grin on both of your faces, as he was trying to ignore the feeling of your boobs on the back of his head, trying to ignore you, while you were wanting his attention.

-The two of you were in a stalemate!

-Your phone ringing took your attention away from getting Loki’s attention and you answered, hearing Aphrodite on the other side, wanting your opinion on some new products she got in for her salon and you told her you would be there soon.

-You hugged Loki again, “Oh my love~~ how terrible that I must leave you now~ please don’t miss me too much!!” the snort from him got a grin to rise on your face before he teased back, “I don’t think I would ever miss you!” you gasped in mock shock which got him laughing before you pecked his cheek, purposely missing his lips which made him pout and you ran out.

-It was several hours later when Loki received a call, he thought it was you, his eyes lighting up, but he frowned, seeing it was Hermes but answered, “Hello~”

-Hermes was frantic on the other side, “Loki! Get over to the Greek pantheon now! Y/N’s been attacked!!”

-Loki needed no other explanation, the smile off of his face for once as he took off, jumping out the window and flew right over, anger filling every inch of his being.

-He knew where you had been going, to Aphrodite’s salon, and his blood froze, seeing the crowd as Ares and Hercules were trying to keep everyone back from the salon.

-Hercules gave a small nod as Loki approached and he landed behind the crowd, seeing Hermes guarding the door.

-Loki felt his throat squeeze when Hermes turned, looking anguished before he caught Loki, preventing him from going in, “They’re trying to stabilize her now.”

-Hermes could easily sense that Loki was furious, seething before he spoke through gritted teeth, “What happened?”

-Hermes explained, from what Aphrodite told him, another goddess entered the salon, one who had a resentment against you as you had been the one to improve relationships between humans and gods, and that you were dating Loki, while you were only a ‘mere human’.

-The goddess attacked but with your skills in fighting, you had managed to fight, but you took a shot when she went after Aphrodite, knowing you would protect your friend, using your kind heart against you.

-Aphrodite, showing her incredible power, struck down this offending goddess, killing her almost instantly, which did annoy Loki, as he wanted to make the one who hurt his love suffer.

-You were taken back to the Norse pantheon, to the valkyries and their medical facilities.

-Loki had only managed to get a glimpse of your pale face, eyes screwed shut in pain, breathing harshly and he sat for hours outside of your room until he was allowed to go in.

-Loki was uncharacteristically quiet, as he had been thinking, for some reason, his mind started racing with terrible thoughts, wondering what he was going to do if you died. He didn’t want to lose you.

-His thoughts went back to your earlier conversation, and he remembered how his last words to you this morning were that he wouldn’t miss you. That was a lie, one that left a bitter taste in his mouth, he would miss you ever day if you died, and would never stop.

-He felt tears welling as his heart was racing, unable to stop thinking about you dying until a valkyrie walked out, “You are able to go in now, Master Loki.”

-In a blink he was by your side, you were laying in a slight incline, heavy bandages around your midsection, IVs in your left arm, and an oxygen mask over your mouth.

-You were awake and instantly smiled, relaxing, seeing Loki there.

-His eyes were trembling, seeing you in such a state, but you were still alive, tears stinging his eyes, biting his bottom lip.

-You smiled gently up at him, mouthing his name and he instantly melting into your arms, hugging you tightly, arms around you neck. You could feel his shoulders shaking and you knew he was crying, and your own eyes softened.

-Your free hand lifted, cupping the back of his head, stroking his hair gently, but you made no mention of his tears, not going to tease him, not this time.

-He refused all orders to leave, wanting to stay with you, laying in your bed with you, holding you, never wanting you to leave again.

-You were unable to keep your giggles hidden when Odin himself came in and dragged Loki out, after he had been calling for Loki for two days now to do his work.

-Loki called out for you comically, reaching out to you while you waved him off and he cried comically on how cruel you were before Odin rolled his eye, “Do your work, and do it right, and you can go back to Y/N.”

-Loki did his work at record pace, being done perfectly before he instantly was back to your side, cuddling you like you were going to disappear.

-He never mentioned it, but you knew that this incident had scared him, but you made no mention of it, it was scary for you too, when you were laying on the salon floor, bleeding out, all you wanted was Loki.

-The two of you made a silent promise to never say anything like that to each other again, as you would have never forgiven yourselves if that was the last thing that was said between you.

[skellebonez]

A Matter of Affection (A Gen LMK Oneshot)

I have a lot of feelings about AroAce MK and Sun Wukong. So, naturally, I HAD to write my own little oneshot of MK realizing he is now a celebrity and that comes with the side effect of... suitors. That he does not want. I am not aromantic, but I am asexual and have talked to enough aromantic people to know there is a lot of overlap between our experiences. So I did my best to convey this through MK and everyone else.

Hope you enjoy this!

(Note: DragonFruit, FreeNoodles, and IronBull are mentioned in passing. Written BEFORE Season 4 came out.)

AO3 Link.

Ok, MK, you can do this… You just have to ask him… ask your mentor for some advice, this is totally fine and not awkward at all. Asking for advice is completely normal. This isn’t awkward. Just. Ask… for advice…’

He was lying to himself, he knew it.

How could this not be awkward?

MK had never asked anyone, let alone Sun Wukong, for help with something like this before. He wanted to ask Mei, she was the only one who knew… well, everything about him at this point, but she was live streaming and he didn’t want to interrupt her while she was having fun just to ask for some advice. Even IF she would gladly pause the stream for his comfort once she realized he was being serious.

So, instead, he found himself flying over in bird form to Mount Huaguo so he could pay his mentor a visit. He’d been doing this just about every day he had free time (and wasn’t due for training) just to say hello, make sure the king wasn’t lonely and to bond more after everything that had happened over the last year. Things seemed to have finally smoothed out into some kind of new normal for everyone.

MK claimed the visit was to deliver Sun Wukong a free “canceled” order of noodles that was close to what he normally ordered, which was not entirely a lie. But he normally would have just eaten it himself or given it to Tang. So in reality it was just an excuse.

But in his attempt to psych himself up to ask for advice he managed to almost psych himself out.

This should be easy! The Monkey King and him were as close as they had ever been as mentor and student (to the point some people, Mei and Sandy namely, said they came off as family). And given who the Monkey King was he MUST have had to deal with similar awkward situations in the past.

So…

“Hey, uh, Monkey King?”

“Yeah bud?”

“Have you ever had someone confess they liked you before?”

Sun Wukong turned to look at his student, an almost disappointed look on his face.

“MK. Bud. I’m Sun Wukong. I’ll give you two guesses and the other one doesn’t count.”

“That many huh?”

“It was CONSTANT,” Sun Wukong said with a laugh. “I mean, I get it. How can I not attract so many admirers when I am…” The monkey king stood, smirking as he struck a pose worthy of any popular C-Drama poster. “Sun Wukong, the Handsome Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Hea-”

“Did you ever accept?” MK interrupted, immediately cringing at the fact he did so.

“Absolutely not,” Sun Wukong said with a shrug, seemingly not bothered by the interruption. “Even if I ever wanted a partner like that? I was way too busy. Journeys to journey on, monks to keep from being eaten alive, you know the story.”

“You never wanted a partner?” MK’s brow raised as he tried to remember all the stories about the immortal he had heard in the past. “Never?”

“Well… hmn” Sun Wukong trailed off, seeming to drop deep into thought as he rubbed his chin and looked into the distance. MK assumed he was trying to find the best words to use for his explanation. “How do I put it… Not never as in never wanting to have a companion. I loved being around people! And I loved some people, just not in the way other people seemed to have loved me. I wouldn’t mind having a life partner who’s cool with hugs and cuddles and spending all our time together without any of the other stuff! I don’t hate thinking about, like… kissing someone? Unless it’s on the cheek or something I’d rather just avoid that if I can, but if it makes my partner happy I think I would be ok with only that. That make sense?”

There was the softest kind of half joking grimace on the Monkey King’s face when he mentioned kissing, the same kind that MK had seen on his own face in the mirror. And then it clicked.

“Oh… my gosh…” MK said, eyes widening in realization. “Is this really going to be how I find out we’re both aroace? SERIOUSLY!?”

“Arrow what now?” 

“You don’t have any interest in being with anyone romantically?” MK asked, jumping to stand in front of his mentor. He almost bounced up and down in place, barely able to hold in his excitement. “At all? And never have?”

“No..?” Sun Wukong said slowly, reaching out to put a hand on MK’s head to hold him steady for a second. “Bud, answer my question pl-”

“Aromatic asexual,” MK blurted out, awkward and almost too fast.

It clearly took the king a second to process what he said, but once he did…

“THERE’S A NAME FOR IT!?”

“THAT’S WHAT I SAID!” MK replied to the king’s outburst with a laugh. He bounced harder, despite the hand on his head, in sheer excitement. “I’ve never actually met someone else in person who’s aro or ace or bot, only online! And-and it’s YOU of all people and- WAIT!”

MK held out his hands, taking the immortal’s hand off his head.

“That was a sudden change of tone,” Sun Wukong joked when he caught the serious look on his student’s face. “I’m gonna take a guess and ask if this aroace stuff is related to your initial question?”

“Yeah,” MK said, now feeling a bit more confident and comfortable in being able to ask for some advice. “There’s this girl who’s been coming to the shop over the last few weeks, almost every two days. I think she’s one of the civilians I rescued last month when that clan of beetle demons came to attack the city. And uh…”

“She asked you out, didn’t she?”

“YES!” MK said with a groan as he pulled at his hair. “And she’s super nice and really pretty and any guy or girl would probably be SUPER LUCKY to date her but! I don’t! LIKE PEOPLE IN THAT! WAY!”

“Breathe, MK,” Sun Wukong said, gently guiding his student to let his hair go. “What did you tell her?”

“I had to… think about it?”

“Oh boy…”

“I didn’t wanna tell her no immediately!” MK said, biting his lip now. “I felt… I dunno, pressured? Pigsy and Tang were watching me and…it was awkward.”

“Well, you have to tell her no somehow,” Sun Wukong said with a nod as he rubbed his chin. “You can’t leave her hanging, there’s bound to be some hero worship driving her to ask you out the way she did so quickly and that can be a tough thing to accidentally play into.”

“I know…” MK said. “But I don’t know how. And what about after that? Are MORE people going to ask me out?”

“Definitely, you’re a celebrity now,” Sun Wukong said, almost sounding apologetic.

“Aw man… what should I do?” MK asked as his mentor paced around him in a circle. “Just say ‘I don’t swing any way ever, I’d rather just have super close friends’ for the rest of my life? I’ve only had to say it like… twice and I’m already feeling burnt out!”

“You turned down two other people?”

“No,” MK said with a shake of his head. “I’ve told Mei I’m aroace and I had to tell the metal brothers so they would stop trying to set me up with Mei and Red.”

“Understood. Well, you don’t have to say it every time,” Sun Wukong said with a wave of his hand. “You could wear a hat with that on it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Listen,” the monkey king said with a smile as he finally stopped in front of his student. “If you can handle the Lady Bone Demon you can handle telling a normal human you’re not interested in them. And if they give you any trouble, you have a whole family behind you to back you up… Even people who can pick up a building with their bare hands could use emotional support, or so Sandy keeps telling me.”

“... that means a lot, Monkey King,” MK said with a genuine smile. “But I… how do I tell her no if she asks me at work again? I don’t wanna be unprofessional and make Pigsy look bad.”

“Good point,” Sun Wukong said with a hum. “And my usual ‘no thanks’ and flying off wouldn’t really work when you’re trapped by societal convention… BUT! There’s someone else who may be able to help you since he also works in the service industry!”

“... wait, you don’t mean-”

~

“What do you want, Noodle Boy?”

“Aw, no hello to your second best pal?”

“HELLO, Noodle Boy,” Red Son said as he rolled his eyes. “What do you want? Answer quickly before I shut this-”

“How do I turn down a girl who asks me out on a date?”

The fiery demon stared blankly at him, blinking only when MK rushed into his house to get out of the fiery inferno around the Bull Family home and into some shade.

“I… someone asked you out on a date?” Red Son asked, raising one eyebrow in confusion. “You? Noodle Boy? The man who literally never noticed when people are flirting with him?”

“I don’t do that!” MK said, immediately pausing. “... have people been flirting with me? Really?”

“Constantly,” Red Son said as he shut the door and turned to face his unwanted guest. “I honestly don’t know how you never- WHY ARE YOU IN MY FACE?”

“Listen to me carefully,” MK said as he held Red Son’s face in his hands. “I trust you with this information because you’re my friend and Mei loves you. I am aroace. If love was pizza you could order? And platonic love was the toppings? I would be ordering none pizza with left beef every day of my life. So I wouldn’t know flirting if it bit me on the ass.”

“... oooooooooooooooh,” Red Son said with realization dawning on his face as he pushed the other’s hands away. “I see, you’re like the Monkey King. That changes nothing, really, barring the urgency you must be feeling.”

“You knew the Monkey King was aroace?”

“It wasn’t hard to piece together,” Red Son said with a shrug. “I should have guessed the same about you, given your obliviousness to the aforementioned flirting. And also how strongly you reacted when someone assumed you were dating Mei the other week during your last third wheeling session on our date.”

“And I am very sorry about that,” MK said honestly. “But I could still use some help.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Red Son asked with a frown. “If the Monkey King couldn’t help you in this area? I was the worst person for you to come to as a second choice. I wasn’t exactly waving suitors off with a baseball bat while working on my bots or helping my mother plan father’s return. Neither was flirtation the first on anyone’s mind when the New Year celebrations were in full swing with my father standing behind me and people coming back to complain my food was ‘too spicy’. And considering we live in the middle of nowhere I didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with random peasants flirting with me, you know.”

“There’s no way that’s possible when you look the way you do,” MK countered.

Red Son sputtered, looking at the other man in shock. “What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“I’m aroace, Red, not incapable of recognizing when someone is objectively hot… pun not intended.”

“I am just going to let that be a compliment and move on,” Red Son said, his face matching his name more and more the longer he spoke. “Anyway, Mei is the first person to ask me out in centuries. I genuinely have no idea how I would tell someone no because I haven’t had to since I was like… the demon age equivalent of 15. And I didn’t have a chance to because that guy was trying to steal from us and got pushed off the roof by one of my Bull Clones.”

“Going to overlook the admission of murder-”

“HE LIVED!”

“-and instead ask if you know anyone else who can help?” MK continued. “I’d ask Mei but, you know, streaming.”

“Hmmn… You could always ask my parents?” Red Son offered with a shrug. “From what they’ve mentioned in the past they were both quite popular with their own respective circles, father especially. They had to turn down more suitors than they could count so they would likely be your best bet for discussing a plan of action.”

“... I mean… I guess that makes sense?” MK mused for a moment. “You’re sure they’re not going to just… tell me to ‘crush them like the unworthy peon they know themselves to be’, right?”

“I make no promises.”

“Ah. Great… I don’t… I mean, I… Could we keep the aroace thing between us for now?”

Red Son looked at MK for a moment before sighing, resting a hand on the other’s shoulder.

“They’re my parents, Noodle Boy, you don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want them to know.”

“... thanks. I mean it.”

And he did.

~

DBK stared at MK.

MK stared at DBK.

"I… usually ran away," DBK admitted with an oddly embarrassed and soft tone.

"I don't know what answer I expected. But it wasn't that."

"I was a VERY shy calf, THIEF!"

MK had managed to avoid having to come out to literally everyone he talked to that day, but in exchange for having Red Son keep his secret for the short time being until he felt it necessary to tell the entire Bull Family (and there was no need in his mind, they could live without ever knowing this about him) he was now having one of the most awkward conversations of his entire 21 years of living.

And he thought asking the Monkey King was going to be awkward.

“It was quite adorable to see him literally running away from his suitors,” Princess Iron Fan said with a chuckle. “Maybe that’s why I gave him a chance when he finally worked up the courage to ask me. Even when he saw me literally blowing his competition away with my fan he still braved the chance to give me flowers and ask for one afternoon together.”

“Aw, that’s really sweet,” MK couldn’t help but say when he saw the wistful look Red’s mom wore when looking at her husband. Romance may have never been for him personally, but a good romantic story or seeing other people happy always managed to make him happy by proxy. “Unfortunately, I don’t think those are options for me.”

“Understandably so,” DBK said with a gruff nod. “You have both an image to upkeep as the simian’s successor AND as a duty to your boss.”

“Maybe Mei is done streaming…” MK muttered. “She’s had to tell so many people no, especially stream snipers, that she’ll probably know what to do.”

Princess Iron Fan chuckled at the mention of her son’s girlfriend.

"Frankly I'm quite amazed that Mei had to be the one to pursue my son, considering he is usually the one more prone to pining."

"MOTHER!"

"It runs in the family, dear."

"Not you too, father…"

“And I am going to head out before Red Son feels I know too much!” MK announced, turning to leave. “Thank you for the advice anyway, I appreciate it!”

"You know you could ask your dads for advice, right?" PIF said suddenly.

"...I forgot I could do that."

"How are we not dead?" DBK questioned under his breath. "He forgets so much."

“I THOUGHT YOU ALREADY ASKED THEM IF YOU CAME TO ME, NOODLE BOY!”

~

MK felt so… stupid.

He couldn’t believe that he never thought to just ask Pigsy and Tang. They were right there and all he would have to do was wait for the day to end. So… why?

Why not just ask his dads?

“MK!” Mei’s voice suddenly sounded as he slowly walked his way back through the city, pulling him from his thoughts. “I was just heading to get some dinner at Pigsy’s! I assume you’re heading in the same way?”

“Sort of?” MK answered with an awkward chuckle. “I’m kinda… taking my time in a walk of shame since I realized I just made my day a lot harder than it needed to be.”

“What do you mean?” Mei asked as she fell into step beside her friend.

“A girl I rescued asked me out on a date and I didn’t exactly tell her no or yes,” MK started, watching as Mei grimaced in sympathy. “So I asked Monkey King for some advice since, you know, he’s bound to have experience with fans and stuff asking him out. But he couldn’t help me with telling her no if she asks while I’m at work. Then he sent me to Red Son who also couldn’t give me advice so he sent me to his parents, who ALSO couldn’t give me advice because they either ran or literally tossed their confessors away from them and THEN PIF said I could have asked my dads and I realized she was right and I wasted basically my whole day running around for dating advice… and now the Monkey King and Red Son know about me being aroace too, that also happened.”

“Whoa, slow your roll,” Mei said, pulling MK to the side of the walkway so people could go around them. “You told Sun Wukong and Red you’re ace? One after the other?”

“Yeah,” MK said with a nod.

“OK, well,” Mei said with her own nod. “Considering you’re telling me and nothing else was mentioned I assume they both took it well! Which is good, glad for you, but… I also know your dads don’t know yet. Are you comfortable coming out three times in one day to four people?”

“It’s way less embarrassing than what I’m going to ask them,” MK said slowly. “And embarrassment is really what I’m worried about-”

“I’m not asking if it’s embarrassing,” Mei said slowly. She put a hand on MK’s shoulder. “I’m asking if you’re comfortable. You had a panic attack when you told ME. And I know they’re them and things are definitely going to be ok, but it’s a lot in one day dude. That’s… that’s a lot of coming out one after the other.”

MK paused, looking at Mei for a moment before smiling and taking her hand off his shoulder to just hold it for a second.

“I think I’ll be ok,” he said. “I’d appreciate some support, though? I think after LBD my anxiety meter is a little broken so I may be running on adrenaline right now.”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Mei said as she squeezed his hand. “We’re BBFs, Best Buds Forever. A little support is the least I can offer.”

“Thanks. Like I said though, I’m more worried about the embarrassment. Do you know how embarrassing it is to ask your parents for relationship advice?" MK asked with a deadpan tone. "Let alone dating advice from ones who don't know you have no interest in dating and you have to ask them about how to turn people DOWN?"

"Nope," Mei said. "I looked it all up online."

"I fear for what you may have read."

"I am eternally traumatized!" Mei said with a wide smile, her tone making MK chuckle despite the implications.

“... you’re a really good friend, you know that?”

“... I try to be.”

“Thanks. I mean it.”

And he meant it then too.

~

“I… I need to ask you guys something,” MK said almost immediately after they got to the noodle shop.

Maybe it was his tone, more tired and shaky than he meant for it to sound. He guessed some of the adrenaline had seeped away from him on his short walk back with Mei. Or maybe it was the fact it was such a slow day that Pigsy never even had to call him back and the shop was empty and quiet until the door opened for himself and Mei.

But something about the situation made his dads look at each other in concern.

“Sure, sit down,” Tang said, gesturing for MK to sit next to him. Mei sat down to his other side with no need for guidance.

"What’s up?” Pigsy said as he stopped what he was doping to stand in front of MK. When there was no reply he sighed, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “You know you can talk to us about anything, right?" 

That softest smile that was reserved only for comforting family made MK feel like he really could be honest with his dads. He told everyone else by now so… why not them? He could totally do it.

"Well… I have… a bit of girl trouble?" MK started, holding up a hand before either of them could say anything else. “But it’s… I want to… turn her down?”

“That’s it?” Pigsy said with a raise of his brow. “Is this the same girl that asked you out yesterday?”

“Yeah…” MK said slowly. He felt Mei squeeze his hand in silent assurance. “It’s just… she’s pretty! But I have no idea who she is and… I don’t… I don’t… wanna date. I don’t wanna date anyone… ever?”

“MK,” Tang said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “MK, were you worried about telling us that?”

“Yeah?” He said quickly with a shrug. “I know, you always say you’ll love me no matter what, but… I mean… you two looked so excited at the idea of me dating someone that I felt I couldn’t say no to her. Plus, I didn’t wanna look like a jerk as the Monkie Kid or make Pigsy’s look bad because of me. I-”

“Whoa, hang on,” Pigsy said as he leaned over the counter. “Kid, MK, you’re not gonna make the shop look bad because you turned down someone who asked you out on the job. If anything, I’d make us look bad by chasing them out if they gave you any trouble for it.”

“Wait, you mean it?” MK said in awe as he stared at his dad. 

“Yup,” Pigsy said with a nod.

“We’re sorry if we made you feel pressured to say yeah by being excited,” Tang said, looking at Pigsy and waiting for his nod before continuing. “We just want you to be happy.”

“And what if never being with someone is what makes me happy?” MK asked. “What if I wanna just be with you guys and have friends I can hug and that’s it?”

“Then we’re happy if you’re happy,” Pigsy and Tang said at the same time, looking at each other in surprise before chuckling at the way they synced up.

“Oh thank HECK,” MK said, immediately slumping down onto the counter. “I was worried over nothing and now I’m exhausted.”

“Hey, you were worried about how they’d react and that’s understandable,” Mei said as she spoke up from his other side. “Like how I was with my parents.”

“And there’s no exhaustion that a nice bowl of Pigsy’s noodles can’t fix,” Pigsy said with a chuckle. “Come on. Tell us everything. It sounds like we have some revelations to go over because you’re… non-romantic?”

“Aromantic,” Tang corrected. “Hmn… maybe that explains why you have so much love to give to everyone else platonically.” 

His tone of voice told MK that was clearly a joke made in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

And it worked.

As awkward as it was, MK started to laugh.

“Well… it started when I saved her about a month ago.”

[raytorosaurus]

Wait what dumbassery got tweeted? I wanna see it so I can laugh

lol okay under a read more bc i was like "i don't have the energy rn to spark a whole discussion about this" but then it got kinda long anyway so. the tweet itself is your average annoying twitter bullshit but it speaks to a wider pattern that really fucking pisses me off and worries me so that's what this is about

someone tweeted this, which had like 900 likes and multiple people in the replies and qrts going "omg did she really do this/when did she do this" and op would be like "it's a joke," to which the reply would always be "oh well it does sound like something she'd do."

it's a) not funny in the first place lol and b) a very common type of joke to make, hinging on this widely-accepted idea that frank and lynz hate each other and are petty about it, and that lynz abuses gerard & is extremely controlling. both of these things are literally completely fabricated but people just believe them, and it really goes to show how all these people who hate lynz sooo much don't hate her for the reasons they claim to. these people could not any more transparently give less of a shit about jimmy urine's abuse victim when it really feels like they gleefully use her as an "excuse" to make frerard "jokes" where lynz is a villain. it's disgusting and so so insensitive. domestic abuse is also such a fucking disgusting thing to accuse people of with literally zero evidence besides the kind of thing that was touted on blogs like ode2's, including things like "lynz saying she deadheads the flowers is her sending messages that she emotionally or physically enjoys beating gerard into submission" and "the way gerard's behaving on instagram (i.e. not using it very often) just feels fishy to me...something must be wrong" and "frank and lynz are sharing coded messages about hating each other via opossum memes on their instagram stories or in their instagram likes".

my point is: if you really hated lynz THAT much for reasons such as her association to msi and the tweets where she claimed to have indian descent and was weird to people who called her on it, then you should not need to invent additional reasons to hate her. you would also have to admit that those two things are not exclusive to lynz since everyone in mcr also has extensive voluntary associations with msi, most of all gerard and frank, who have also done/said racist things in the past, and you would have to come up with reasons why you are willing to forgive them but not lynz. i also don't like lynz and find a lot of her actions distasteful but it's literally impossible to get a reasonable explanation from any of the mcr fans who hate her SO much for the depth of this hatred without them including complete fabrications or deeply bad-faith suppositions (or actively misogynistic comments) in those explanations. it's extremely transparent and only goes to show how little these people care about the actual genuine issues related to jimmy/msi and weird racist comments/claims.

also as a side point i don't understand why people also love to act like frank is a perfect innocent in any situation to the point where they'll literally make up reasons to like him or claim that he's on "their side" (e.g. the idea that he hates msi when he was a vocal fan). i love frank so much but fandom as a whole seems to have such a weirdly distorted view of him, despite him being the one in the band who's most open about his thoughts and feelings/life in general. or maybe for that reason? he certainly seems to be the one people project onto the most with a lack of self-awareness about what they're doing, idk. it's weird though frank is such a lovable and admirable guy but sometimes i see the way some of his intense fans talk about him and i honestly feel like they're talking about a different person? of course none of us really know him at all but idk i really feel like the version of him that exists in the most prevalent fan-driven frerard narrative is so bizarrely separate from reality skfjfkssk. idk anyway that's kind of off-point, the most important thing here is that if you make things up about frank or attribute your own opinions to him when he hasn't actually said anything like that (e.g. hating msi or hating lynz) you're gonna get further and further down that rabbithole and end up setting yourself up for disappointment when frank inevitably doesn't behave/think the way you want him to irl lol.

so anyway i qrted that tweet, and op deleted their account between my second and third tweet here lol.

[kirythestitchwitch]

Klaroline WIP Wed - Freaky Friday Time Travel fic - Part 2

Okay so FFTT fic won the poll so here you go! I gave an extra amount bc I couldn't decide a reasonable place to stop. Picks up after this snippet.

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

While her vampire hearing might have been bogged down by the noise in the Square, she was annoyingly attuned to Klaus’ presence. His parting words reached her easily: “Someday, you will.”

She had gone to lunch grumpy and while fortunately Matt had accepted her grumbled explanation of having run into the hybrid menace–he agreed that would put anyone in a bad mood–she hadn’t quite been able to shake the vague itch that sat under her skin as she helped Matt struggle through algebra.

Even before Elena had been assisted into mind-wiping her whole personality, it felt like the only times she’d been needed were to attempt to twist Klaus around her finger, and those all had middling results that usually left her staring at her ceiling that night instead of sleeping. And now that Klaus wasn’t the worst monster in town–at least from her perspective–she hadn’t gotten a lot of calls recently. Maybe that was why she was so eager to help Matt: it was nice to feel needed.

And maybe that was the reason she had gone over to Klaus’ house when he’d blown up her phone with eleventy billion messages. Not that he’d freaked her out with his half-coherent voicemails. It was already a betrayal in several ways that she agreed to be friends with him. Admitting she cared? She tried to imagine what Tyler would say, his mom’s murderer friends with his girlfriend.

By the time she left the grill, Matt was consistently getting the correct answers on the tougher equations, and she’d worked herself into a ball of stress that only a hemoglobin juice pouch could sate.

Now, staring down at the small cardboard box on the porch swing, Caroline wondered what game Klaus was trying to play. Was he trying to make up for being a bit of a dick–okay, not really, but it’s the principle of the thing–the last time they spoke? If it was Klaus.

A ripped piece of sketch paper was taped to the top and she tugged it free. Her name was printed in Klaus’ bold handwriting, and she sighed. Picking up the box, she let herself into the house. Once in her room, she set the box on her vanity and told herself sternly she would deal with it later. Both AP Bio and AP Calculus finals were tomorrow and she needed to study. Really needed to study.

Pulling her books out of her school bag, she arranged herself comfortably on her bed, shoes off, color-coded notebooks at hand, rubber-banded stacks of flashcards at her hip. She put on soothing lo-fi as background music; she was ready.

Caroline’s resolve lasted an unfortunate seven minutes before she was pulling a pair of scissors out of her vanity and cutting the tape keeping the box closed. Pulling the flaps back revealed cottony packing fluff that she began pulling out until at last the real contents of the box were revealed. Nestled in more fluff, a thick chain with a chunky triangular prism on it sat in the box. It was old, the prism framed in gold. 

“Oh wow,” she murmured, picking it up by the chain and dangling it in front of her face. The stone was some kind of iridescent green with small cracks in it, and the frame of the pendant had markings on it. “That is… really ugly.” It rotated in the light from her lamp, and what looked like writing was down one side. Caroline put out a hand to move it back to get a better look at it, but the moment her fingers connected with the pendant, they stuck.

An odd whooshing filled her ears, and the light in her room must have popped because her vision went white.

“Oh shit!” She blinked rapidly, hoping she could see something, anything, while she shook her hand, trying to dislodge the necklace. Whatever magic bullshit was going on, she was going to kill Klaus when she got her hands on him, white oak stake be damned.

A pulse slammed through her and it almost felt like she fell past someone, and then she stumbled back and slammed into something that felt like bars. The necklace fell away from her hand and clattered to the floor; she left it there. Sparkles were dancing in her vision, slowly clearing into the view of an expensive-looking bedroom through a balcony door. She could see a large bed and a chaise lounge next to a bookshelf, another door that looked like it led to an en suite. It could have been an expensive apartment or a fancy hotel room, it was hard to tell. None of it looked familiar, and it certainly wasn’t in Mystic Falls. It didn’t even look American, that look that comes from being several hundred years old that few still occupied buildings had.

Pushing herself up against the balcony, Caroline turned around to take in the view and gasped. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower lit up the night horizon, the glow of a thousand lights brightening up the city. Some part of her was horrified, she’d clearly been kidnapped, she didn’t know how she was going to get home in time for her final unless Klaus could zap her back, and explaining this to her mother would probably ensure she was grounded for, she didn’t know, opening strange packages or something. Caroline should know better.

The other part of her was frozen, thinking how magical the city looked at night.

A soft noise came from behind her. “I would be open to giving the neighbors something magnificent to look at if you insist on the balcony, although I may have to kill them for the pleasure of it afterward.”

Caroline spun around at Klaus’ voice, poised to give him a piece of her mind, and froze. He stood in the door frame without a single stitch on, the lean muscles of his body on display for her like a feast, the tattoos she’d seen on his chest the one time, the trim waist leading down to his incredible co–she clapped her hands over her eyes. There was no looking, none. “Seriously, why are you naked?” She may have shrieked a little. “And why are we in Paris? Is this your idea of a date? Because you are taking me home right now, buddy. I cannot believe you kidnapped me.”

💗