opportunity-strikes · 1 year ago
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Adventure Poll
Previous Poll
You briefly consider asking Cooper to stay out of it, but you're not sure she's likely to listen to that request considering how amped up she seems. Her offer to be a distraction is tempting. It would pull the riders off your tail, and give you a fighting chance to make it to civilization before they caught up to you.
But then you imagine leaving Cooper behind. You realize you don't know where this adventure is going to take you, or how long it will be until you come back... if you come back. You'd never know what had happened to her. You wouldn't know if she was safe, or if you had left her to her death or capture. The mere thought of it is unbearable.
"Come with me," you say aloud before you can stop yourself.
Cooper lights up, straightening a little.
"That's a good idea. I can tail you to the edge of town, and if the hunters get close I can lure them away," she says, stroking thoughtfully at her chin with her long pointed nails... claws? You inhale, not sure if you should clarify that you meant 'leave this place with me'. You'd spent every moment up until now trying to keep Cooper safe, keep her out of this! Is it fair to ask her to come along? To leave everything behind?
You've almost decided not to correct her, but the silence has stretched on too long, and the conflict has shown too clearly on your face.
"Oh you mean...?" Cooper asks, realization dawning on her.
"You don't have to--" you start to say, but she cuts you off with a laugh.
"Shut up, love. You asked, you meant it," she seems absolutely delighted, even a little touched. "I'm coming with, meet me by the back door downstairs, I need fifteen minutes to... sort out affairs."
She leaves before you can point out how ominous that sounds, and all there is to do is go wait for her near the back door. Seconds stretch on with the agony of eternity, and fifteen minutes ages you about fifteen years before Cooper comes back into view.
She's becoming less and less human every time you see her, and you can't tell if it's just what you're seeing, or if it's something physical... or if it's a little of both.
"Coop," you start to say, but she puts a hand over your mouth and starts to drag you out the door.
"No time," she says, and there's a giddiness to her tone that worries you.
"Coop what did you--?"
"We should be running!" she says, and as the door swings shut behind you, you catch a whiff of a distinctly acrid smell that convinces you of Cooper's words. You peel Cooper's hand off your face, but keep hold of it, and dash into the torrential downpour with her. The backdoor leads into an alley with only two directions available to you. One trails behind Cooper's store and lets out into a small street. The other trails behind Cooper's home, and lets out on a broad road with little cover.
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gracieheartspedro · 9 months ago
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Your Needs, My Needs
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THE PRELUDE
a masterlist of how you can help gaza
pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)
description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.
word count: 3.7k words
warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao
author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!
“Sign here and she’s all yours.”
When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life. 
While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway. 
She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields. 
The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours. 
Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it. 
You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway. 
You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.
It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all. 
You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street. 
You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior. 
The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so. 
Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor. 
In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position. 
You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed.  Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road. 
You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened. 
Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”
The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field. 
Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.
You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence. 
-
When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings. 
You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you. 
A hot cowboy saved your life. 
It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here. 
You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine. 
“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, “I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”
She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”
You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start. 
“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”
“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”
The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it. 
You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”
“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”
You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal. 
You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway. 
When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads. 
You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card. 
“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”
You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both. 
You needed your furniture, after all. 
It will be okay, you tell yourself. 
“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”
“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”
You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”
You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night. 
The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it. 
Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy. 
It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.
You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl. 
He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric. 
He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color. 
“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”
You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.
You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you. 
“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand. 
“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”
The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way. 
“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”
You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.
“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.
You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.” 
He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”
“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.” 
You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole. 
“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”
You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”
“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”
You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”
“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”
You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”
“Well, what have you tried doin’?”
You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.
“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”
He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did. 
“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.
“What Texas or this bathroom?”
He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin. 
“You got tons of jokes, huh?” 
You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile. 
“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame. 
You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet. 
“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”
“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”
You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you. 
He would come over again? To fix your toilet? 
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”
“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”
He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”
-
His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired. 
“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”
You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture. 
You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.
While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do. 
You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.
“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate. 
“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out. 
“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”
He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”
Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled. 
He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head. 
“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”
You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places. 
You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture. 
“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”
“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”
You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold. 
“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school. 
“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.” 
You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”
They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady. 
He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.
“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”
Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”
Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”
You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods. 
You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken. 
He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze. 
“Somethin’ wrong?”
You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.
“N-no, everything is okay.”
“Don’t look it.”
“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”
Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.” 
“O-oh okay.”
“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”
You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.
  You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”
PART 1 COMING SOON!
taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon
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elssero · 2 months ago
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project partner
k.bakugo
-in which you and bakugo get paired to work on a school project together ,sfw. angst!!!!! tw no happy endings ..
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maybe you should’ve been paying more attention but your hero analytics class was so boring you genuinely couldn’t stop yourself from getting distracted.
it’s not like the view outside the window is any more interesting- at this point your just looking at anything in an attempt to drown out your teachers voice.
you catch a pair of birds on a tree outside- watching as they shuffle around each other awkwardly. god you wish you were one of those birds right now. you really hate this class.
“and yn, you’ll be partnered with uh- bakugo.”
wait what?
oh you’ve got to be kidding me.
you don’t even know what you’ve been partnered to work with him on? some sort of fake hero interview? god could your day get any worse.
you did not like bakugo. not one bit.
you didn’t like his ‘better than everyone’ attitude. you didn’t like the constant stupid scowl on his face. but most of all you didn’t like the way he spoke to your friends.
at the beginning of the year you’d made a conscious effort to befriend most of your classmates. never shying away from a conversation and offering your assistance whenever needed.
you knew what it was like to be strong, you’d always been a step ahead, seemingly excelling in everything you did. you guessed you had that in common with him.
however, what you didn’t have in common with him was his treatment of your classmates. you had never once wanted anyone too feel inferior to you, even if they were.
sure you were teasing- often joking around with many of your classmates but it was all in good faith. nothing like the actual insults bakugo often hurled at them.
you didn’t like him. not at all.
staring at aizawa with wide eyes he only gives you a shrug. you have absolutely no idea why he thought it would be a good idea to pair you and bakugo together- you’d never even spoken a word to each other in this class.
after reading out the rest of the pairings he dismisses the class, encouraging you all too make plans with your partners about scheduling time to work on the project he’d just given you, explaining you had a week to hand in two fully fledged professional looking interviews, one of your partner and of yourself with the other playing the interviewer.
you weren’t worried about your performance at something like this, being friendly and talking to people had never been a problem for you- at least not until it came to the blonde who was now making his way towards you. his signature frown on his face.
he huffs as he attempts to make himself comfortable in the seat next to you, still somehow looking incredibly uncomfortable.
you glance around at the other pairs in the room. brewing with jealousy as you see everyone already getting along- seemingly paired with someone their known to be friends with.
the boy beside you attempts to speak before you cut him off-
“okay look- i don’t want to be here any longer than i need too and i’m sure you don’t either.” you would normally grimace at the harsh tone of your voice- except it’s bakugo, so instead you continue on.
“i’ll spend tonight watching recent hero interviews too see what types of questions are currently trending, i’ll put us both together a series of questions we can ask each other.”
it’s better you do all the work, it means he can’t surprise you with some stupidly rude question. you don’t have to get along with him. you just have to do the project- get a good grade and go back to ignoring him.
“send me a copy of your schedule so i can work out a time that suits us both to film the interviews- they shouldn’t take too long, most interviews only last a little under an hour now a days.”
you don’t look at him as you speak to him, instead opting to drawing little cats in the corner of your page as you explain your plan to him.
“oh um- okay.” he pauses slightly before continuing speaking. “yeah- um i’ll send you my schedule.”
that was oddly easy? of course your glad he didn’t fight you on this, but to say you weren’t expecting at least a little challenge would be a lie.
deciding not to dwell on his weird behaviour you take this as a win- you get to dictate your entire project which is obviously what you’d rather. when the bell rings to signify the end of the day your beyond thankful to it for getting you away from the increasingly awkward silence your having with bakugo at the moment. getting up you don’t even bid him goodbye as you meet up with your friends while leaving the class to make your way to the dorms.
it’s jirou and mina you meet at the doorway- immediately accepting their invitation to join them on their walk home.
the walk isn’t long- you listen as your friends catch you up on the work they’d done with their partners during class- expressing their excitement to work on something more media based.
“so uh- how’s having bakugo as a partner?” you roll your eyes at your pink friend. it’s no secret that your not a fan of bakugo. infact you go out of way to make it very clear to your friends your feelings about the boy.
“it’s weird. he’s totally letting me do all the work- of course i’m not complaining but i thought he’d try to argue with me with at least once.” explaining how he’d acted to your friends you feel just as confused as you did in class.
“wait- you mean he didn’t argue with you once? not even a single time?” confirming minas question you keep walking. it is weird. you don’t think bakugo has ever done a paired project without being utterly horrible to whatever pour soul had been paired up with him.
“i mean are we really surprised? i can’t think of a single time he’s ever actually insulted you.” you look at your purple haired friend as she talks. she’s right.
you don’t know why, but since the beginning of first year bakugo had never once said anything mean to you. not since you’d kept up with him on the quick assessment on your first day.
it’s weird. god it’s so weird and your grateful someone else has noticed it. he’s always so mean. never thinking twice before hurling abuse at the rest of your class while he seemingly never even thinks of throwing some at you.
you rather it that way. it gives you the perfect excuse to never have to speak to him.
“wait your right…” mina currently looks deep in thought before a sly smile erupts on her face. “maybe he’s got a crush!”
you can’t help the laugh that bubbles in your chest. bakugo?? a crush?? even the idea sounds crazy. not once in your three years of being at UA had you ever heard of bakugo even being remotely interested in anything like that with anyone.
“bakugo definitely does not have a crush on me- are we sure he even has a romantic bone in his body?” jirou beside you laughs at that, a small chuckle escaping her. “it’s not the craziest explanation- maybe he’s got a soft spot.” you shoot her a kidding glare.
“don’t be silly guys. i’m sure there’s an actual reason- maybe he just can’t think of anything bad to say about me.” your thankful when the girls next to you both burst into giggles- giving you and opening to change the subject.
the idea scratches the back of your head the whole walk. you can’t stop thinking about it as you make your way into your own dorm, showering and changing before beginning to work on your project- your thirty minutes into the most recent mirko interview when you decide you need a break.
dinner. that will definitely solve your problems. your just hungry.
making your way into the kitchen your hopes of getting your mind off bakugo are immediately shut down as you see his figure behind the open fridge door.
for fucks sake.
it’s too late to turn around now. sucking it up you made your way over to one of the cupboards before taking out some bread- you’ll just make a sandwich. something quick to get you the fuck out of this kitchen.
you nearly make it out- your so close.
“so uh- how’s the project going?” your being punished. your now completely certain someone out there has something out for you.
“um yeah it’s going fine- i have your questions all written out i’m just getting started on mine.” you forced to look at him quickly when you place the bread back into the cupboard. it’s clear he’s just back from a very intense work out. the sweat in his hair makes that evident. he looks good.
what the fuck? you turn away quickly before he notices your quick stare as you pack up your food ready to take into your room.
“you did my questions first?” there’s a slight surprise in his voice as he questions you.
“uh yeah it was easier. there’s a lot more male heros so it was easier to find interview questions compared to females.” it’s a logical explanation- you miss the way his expression drops slightly when he listens to your reasoning.
“is that all your having to eat?” this is weird. is he making fun of you? no that’s not it. there’s not a mean tone in his voice- instead it’s something like concern.
“i’m not really hungry. just wanted a quick snack-“
“you should eat more.”
you need to get out of this kitchen. why is he being so nice to you? okay maybe he’s right. a sandwich is definitely not a hero course student meal but your currently far to confused and far too tired too care.
“goodnight bakugo.”
you don’t wait for his reply as you quickly make your way to the door, desperate to get away from whatever the fuck is going on right now. you debate making your way to minas room to debrief what just happened but decide against it. she’ll probably attempt to try and convince you about her stupid crush theory again and there’s absolutely no way that’s true.
the after effect of your late night hits you like a truck in the morning, after groggily getting up and forcing yourself to get ready you rush to class- nearly missing the bell while you step in only a few seconds before your teacher.
you spend the entire period in complete silence- focusing mainly on keeping yourself awake long enough to get home and go straight to sleep. your keeping your face up with your hand while it threatened to fall when you receive a note from your left.
you okay? you look like your seconds away from biting your desk. -k.b.
why on earth did he sign his initials on this stupid note as if you didn’t just watch him place it on your desk. you decide to take a minute to calm yourself so you don’t end up writing him back a mess of profanities.
you don’t even reply at all, deciding instead to crumple the note up extremely loudly before placing it in your pocket. you miss the dejected look on his face but you do hear the scoff. that bitch.
you can’t wait for the end of this stupid project, hoping that by the end of it you and bakugo will be able to go back to how you were before. he can go back to terrorising the rest of the class while you go back to ignoring him.
it’s beyond weird that he’s starting to talk to you. you assume he feels obligated because he’s your partner but you’d rather he just ignored you outwith strickly work related conversations.
your packing up for class when he nexts approaches you- placing a piece of paper in your hand as he walks by your desk.
“it’s uh- it’s my schedule.” right. you did ask him for that didn’t you? did he put this together last night? it’s extremely detailed- compiling exactly what he does everyday seven days a week, even having slots for studying and meal times.
scanning it over quickly you realise the only free time you share is saturday afternoon- tomorrow.
that works. if you get your interviews completely done during the weekend it means that this weird situation you’ve found yourself in with bakugo will be over by monday- it’s perfect infact.
“i’m free tomorrow afternoon too- i’ll meet you in the common room at 1 and we can spend a couple hours on it. hopefully we can have it done before dinner.”
“yeah um- that’s fine i’ll meet you at 1.” okay great. you take note of the fact this is the second plan you’ve made without bakugo arguing with you.
you leave the class in speed after that- wishing your friends a goodbye as you let them know you won’t be walking with them today, wishing to run straight to bed as your far too tired to spend time with them right now.
it’s hours later when you finally wake up- 7pm your clock reads. you’d really hoped that you would just have been able to sleep though the whole night- it seems the universe has other plans for you as you hear your stomach grumble. great.
your making your way down to the common room when you hear a mixture of voices from behind the wall.
“yeah it’s great- but bakugos the luckiest for sure. he’s working with yn on this and she always does well on this shit. maybe it’ll bring your hero media grade up.” it’s kaminari you hear first. your ears perk up when you listen to a mention of your name.
“yeah bakugo how is it? it’s gotta be great working with her. i’m totally jealous.” you manoeuvre quickly to hide yourself fully behind the wall now. they’ve not realised your here yet. you intend to listen fully to what they have to say about you.
“it’s alright- i guess.” you wish you could say you were surprised but alright? if he calls doing all the work for alright then you’ll never do anything for him ever again.
“come on bakugo there’s got to be more to it than that? you finally get her to talk to you yet-?” huh? what does he mean by that? finally getting you to talk to him?
“shut up shitty hair- it’s- no i haven’t!” he’s getting increasingly more frustrated as he continues.
“every time i attempt to make conversation she shuts me out completely. i- i don’t even know what im doing wrong.” his voice sounds rejected as he finishes his sentence. he’s been.. trying to talk to you?
why? it’s the first thing that crosses your mind. why after years of being in the same class- years of mutually ignoring each other why would he now make the decision he’s interested in talking to you?
you can’t listen to any more of this. forgetting all about your hunger you hastily make your way back to your dorm- attempting not to draw notice to yourself.
somehow finding yourself more tired than you were when you first made your way downstairs you flop yourself onto your bed with a confused sigh.
you just don’t get it. trying to wrack your brain for reasons why bakugo would all of a sudden decide he’s interested in you- you fail to find a logical reason.
maybe you should just sleep it off- after your interviews are done tomorrow you won’t have to speak to him ever again if your luckily. you can spend your days avoiding him during classes and in the corridors. it shouldn’t be that hard.
his friends words repeat in your mind. finally get you to talk to him? had he been interested in you for awhile? and for what?
maybe he had been looking for something to make fun of you for- it’s the only explanation you can come up with.
forging yourself to stop dreading over it you take that as your answer. bakugo katsuki is attempting to get close to you so he can find something to poke fun at you for.
you know in your mind that’s not it. even in your tired state you realise that the excuse your giving yourself isn’t the truth. however your far to exhausted- and apparently still hungry to let yourself stress over it any longer as you fall back into sleep.
your alarm wakes you up at a sharp 10am. it’s your emergency alarm for when you accidentally sleep in. fuck.
you have three hours before your supposed to meet bakugo and your already riddled with anxiety over it. waking up late forces you to miss your work out for the third day in a row- maybe you’ll be able to get one in later tonight.
opting to just start getting ready your able to take your time- an outfit choice isn’t needed, you’ll need to wear your hero costume if your doing “hero work.”
it’s 12 when you begin to start thinking about getting something to eat- your ready to leave now, your aswell heading down to the kitchen early.
your heading to your door when you get a knock, opening it expecting it to be one of your friends your shocked when you see- bakugo?
in his hand is a brown bag- the little logo of a local bakery is crumpled but you can still make it out, in the other is a coffee of some sort.
“you didn’t eat last night. picked you up something after my run.” of course he’d went on an early morning run- your almost jealous of his work ethic.
he got you breakfast? it smells good. you can’t remember the last time you went to that little bakery, you’d forgotten how much you missed it.
“how’d you know how i take my coffee?” his eyes shift to the floor at your question- nervousness clearly evident in his voice.
“i uh- i asked raccoon eyes. she said that’s always what you get.” of course he went to mina- it’s not wonder she keeps making crazy assumptions about the two of you.
you offer his a small smile when you answer him- maybe the first you’ve ever given him. “thank you bakugo.”
his eyes go wide at that- “um yeah it’s no big deal- i was getting something anyway.” did he eat it already? your foods still warm- it feels as though he ran straight here after getting it.
“you ready to go?” your snapped out of your trance when you tell him yes- picking up your bag you make your way to the training room that had been set up specifically for this project.
it looks like a real interview set- in the middle of the room is a long table with two chairs- both situated with microphones with a camera catching them both in shot.
you begin to set up straight away- bakugo insists on working on your interview first as a thanks for doing the rest of the work and you take him up on the offer, settling yourself into the seat of the interviewee as he situates himself beside you.
he looks slightly different from how he normally does- less angry, you think. he’s really gotten himself into character- dressing himself a smart-ish shirt, he’s put on his reading glasses, he looks kinda cute.
the lighting of the set is definitely doing wonders for him- you just hope it’s doing you the same justice. he coughs slightly next to you- seemingly to get your attention.
“you ready to go?” he’s looking at you patiently- urging you to take your time.
“i’m good to go- just try stay on script yeah?” your joking with him- similarly to how you would your other classmates. maybe this project isn’t so bad.
he does infact follow the script perfectly in the beginning- opening up your interview- introducing you to the “audience” as he begins the questions.
it’s the usual stuff- questions you’d answered a million times. who inspires you? why did you decide to be a hero? what type of hero do you wish to be? blah blah blah.
“if we asked your friends to describe what it’s like to be your friend- how would they describe it?” you love questions like these- you feel it gives fans a real feel for not only you as a hero- but you as a person.
“i’m hilarious- obviously. but if we’re being completely serious i’d probably describe myself as helpful? i always find joy in being able to help my friends with things their struggling with- it helps i get too tease them about it too.” you flash the “interviewer” a smile to only be met with a deadpan expression.
did you say something wrong? you thought that was a perfect answer- it paints you as a kind but funny person. what’s his problem?
“why do you do that?” his interviewer tone is gone now- seemingly given up on his part.
“do what?” your voice is laced in confusion but in reality your angry. it had been going so well up until now- no arguments, no insults- just getting the project done and now your going to have to start the whole interview all over again.
“your nothing like that- at least not to me.” he’s grumbling as he says it- looking directly at you with that same frustrated expression.
“what are you talking about.” your firm when you say it- edging him to just get to the point of whatever tangent he’s about to go on so you can get back to work.
“you-? it’s just you! your fuckin’ friends with everyone- it pisses me off.” your mouth is slightly agape- what does who your friends with have anything to do with him? you don’t reply.
“it’s just- everyone fuckin’ loves you- apparently your so fuckin’ great to everyone but i can never get that out of you-“ anger is rising in his voice as he continues- getting more and more frustrated as he keep struggling to explain how he feels.
“your always such a fuckin’ bitch to me- always ignoring me- never giving me the time of day and everything thinks m’ fuckin’ crazy because your just soo good.” your anger is suddenly matching his- your such a bitch to him?? does he have any idea about the way he treats people?
“oh that’s fucking rich coming from you- your maybe the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. no wonder i don’t wanna speak to you.” your furious- who does he think he is?? that he thinks he can dictate how you act towards people.
“what?” the tone is his voice is changed now- the anger that was there a second ago seems to have vanished- now replaced with sadness.
“and you ignore me too!- don’t act like our lack of communication is all my fault.” now it’s his turn to be in shock- he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you act like this before.
“your right bakugo- i am a bitch. i’m a bitch to you because i can’t stand you. i don’t like you, not one bit. your a horrible classmate- i can only imagine an even more horrible person just going by the way i hear you speak to people.”
you take a deep breath before you continue- finally allowing yourself to actually look at him- your vision a little blurry from anger, but you can see it clear as day- the complete expression of hurt written all over his face.
you wish you cared- you wished you maybe felt a little empathy for the boy but you don’t- you can’t. you’ve listened to the way he’s treated people for years and now that you’ve started you can’t stop.
“you don’t do it to me- i don’t know why and quite frankly i don’t care. but i hear it, i’ve heard it for years and i wont shy away from it anymore- i believe you to be a bad person bakugo, you’ll make a great hero- maybe. but that won’t change the fact i truly believe you to be a bad person.”
he still doesn’t say anything- the hurt in his face somehow even more evident as the tears threaten to spill from his eyes.
“right.”
he gets up without saying anymore more- grabbing his coat as he makes a b-line for the door- leaving you alone in this stupid interview set.
he’s such an idiot- and too think he really had a chance- of course you would see him for as he was.
he loved you- he had for years.
and you completely hated him.
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glotoru · 1 year ago
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SHE’S MY COLLAR. eren jaeger
── eren knows you, he can deal with you; but sometimes, your obsessions can be too much, even for him.
content contains : nerdy!eren x dumb!gf so real, reader is needy and obsessed with eren, nsfw, unprotected sex, riding, dumbification, ‘just the tip’ moment, size kink kinda, slight cervix kissing, dick drunk reader & pussydrunk eren, creampie. wc: 2.2k. minors do not interact thanks <3
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god, you’re annoying sometimes.
unfortunately, you can never seem to realize that your boyfriend is a busy person—or anyone, really, for that matter. it’s like you believe everyone is just as carefree as you; leaving things up to the ‘fate of the universe’ and ditching responsibilities to constantly hang out with eren, essentially leaving him to deal with your eccentricity and fixations.
and it comes as no surprise to learn that he just happens to be the latest one.
it’s different from your other ones—they were much easier. because he could simply just take you to the nearest parlour and buy you scoops and tubs of your favourite ice cream, or spend his latest internship check on your wardrobe and be done with it for a favourable amount of time. but with this? you’ve been as insatiable as they come.
eren can count on two hands how many times you’ve begged him, with tears clumping your dark lashes and patchy mascara, to get away from assignments, studying, classes—even work—just to come see you in the past week. and of course, they all ended the same way; with swollen lips, limbs sore from how you held your legs to your torso as he rutted his hips into the fat of your ass, your messy cunt full of his cum, and both his face and sheets stained with your juices. he doesn’t doubt he’s been shooting blanks for the last few times, too.
but still, the worst part about it all is the fact that he just can’t bring himself to say no to you—despite all of his damned efforts to do so.
“‘ren, you should pay attention to your girlfriend.” you groan, neck curling backwards as you crane your head up to look at him. you’re planted near his left leg as he works away at the desk in his bedroom, completely ignoring your words while pages of code reflect on his glasses. “i don’t wanna sit down here anymore.”
‘i’ve been paying attention to you all week’, he wants to say—but would rather opt for the regular ‘im busy’ rather than anything else that could potentially hurt your feelings. and eren knows you’re immune to it, how if you had a dollar for every time those words left his mouth, you’d be fucking millionaire most likely—but he does it anyways.
it’s laughable, how you offered to sit there yourself as opposed to his lap because he said you would distract him if you did. yet here you were still doing the same thing; looking up at him with that subtle pout and eyes full of adoration of some sort—the kind that has his dick swelling at an embarrassingly quick rate.
“can you take a break? i miss you s’much it hurts.”
eren recognizes the drag in your voice in almost a second. as if uttering a silent prayer, he keeps his breath in the tunnel of his throat when you lazily hug him, hardened nipples brushing against his bare leg through the thin fabric of your tank top. he knows he’s taking you for granted. shit...just how many guys would pay money for this sight; the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on asking him for attention. in all honesty, you’re not the best influence, but it’s gruelling trying not to give in to you.
“fine.” the four letter word is all you need as an invitation to jump from the seat near his chair and into his legs, which widen just a teeny bit for your comfort as you straddle him.
the feeling of your arms wrapped around Eren’s slender waist whilst burying your head in his chest burns through his clothing and into his skin. instead of focusing on how your acrylics gently rake up and down his back, he chooses to open up his phone, mindlessly swiping between different page screens and periodically opening up the ‘settings’ which seem to be so important.
honestly, you just needed to be close to him; close enough to bunch his shirt in your hands while you get a whiff of his body soap and cologne—the same one lingering in your apartment, your clothes, everything. but ugh, his scent alone isn’t capable of grant your contentment; you need him inside of you—his muddled moans flowing into your mouth as you tangle your fingers within his hair, the way his brows pull together when he frantically rubs and your clit, desperate to get you crying for him.
the thought of him alone is more than enough to get you off, and just for a moment you forget eren’s there. too stuck in your head and up in the clouds, you fail to notice the way your body subconsciously rocks itself on his lap, arms tightening in the embrace as you tense from the slight stimulation to your cunt.
and eren. . .he watches with wide eyes full of surprise, his phone falling to the floor with a thud. there’s no other way to describe the sight other than pretty—your eyes are squeezed shut with fickle breaths and lips jutted out into a pout; the same pout you give when it’s just not hitting right. but he can feel all of you rubbing against his crotch, even the damp spot forming on the centre point of his grey sweatshorts.
fuck, he concludes that you must not be wearing anything under the satin shorts hugging your legs. sooner or later, you’d be the death of him.
eren jaeger: death by pussy.
doesn’t sound too bad, considering what he knows he’s in for.
“i need it eren, can’t cum without it.” you ramble the same words that you’ve been saying for the last week, eyes glossed over when you look up at his flushed face. when he tries to speak, you’re quick to cut him off, “just the tip, promise—i promise…”
eren’s almost unsure how he finds himself mindlessly nodding along, as if your whines and pleas are like a coercive drug, “just the tip…”
you repeat those three words over—like it’s more of a mantra to yourself rather than a word of reassurance to your boyfriend—as you clumsily pull one leg out of the confinement of your shorts, giving him the perfect view of your sheened over pussy. just the tip, you mumble, drooling at the sight of eren tugging his pants further down his legs to free his dick, all achey and upright, standing against his torso as he breathes heavily.
your cunt throbs when you line yourself over him, dragging his leaky tip across your folds and sensitive clit. it’s easily one of the best reliefs you could ask for, eyes flitting around in the back of your head as you lean into his shoulder. poor eren could probably cum straight like this, seeing you use him like a damned fuck toy—seeing how horny you are for only him.
his moans only add fuel to the fire, pushing you to try your luck at sliding down his bulbous head before stopping right where it ends. he’s just so big, stretching out your hole with just the tip alone—leaving you to mutter a string of jumbled up curses as your body leans forward into him.
“does it feel good, baby?” the hoarseness in his voice is difficult to miss, it’s as if his throat is closing up with every passing moment. you’ve never tried this before, but the vice grip your cunt has on the most sensitive part of him has him wishing you’d done this much sooner.
“yeah—yeah, it feels really-”
your last word comes out in choked whine, breath hitching when his middle and ring finger find their way to your clit, tracing feather-light circle on the bud.
you want eren to make you cum—you’re so desperate that you resort to steadily rutting yourself down on his tip, focused enough to not break your promise to him. there’s a steadily approaching burn in your thighs: it’s a burn that makes you want to cry, makes you want to beg him to make the pain go away and make you finish—but you hold your tongue.
eren’s lips can only part at your unexpected determination, showcasing the sharp bottom teeth that look so much like fangs. you don’t think when you move a hand to his flushed face, your thumb messily slipping inside his mouth and padding the surface of his canines. your other hand makes its way to his glasses, gently pushing them back up the bridge of his nose before meeting his swollen lips with your own.
the residue of the strawberry cake you fed him hours prior is still lingering on his tongue, you can at least make that out as you swirl your own in his mouth.
the voice in your head chanting ‘just the tip’ is growing fainter and quieter, as if it’s moving from the front of your brain all the way to the back of your head, alongside all of the other forgotten things that seemed to hold no importance to you anymore. you want to feel all of him, the pulse of his cock that seems to barely match his heartbeat, the prominent vein running up the length, and the delicious curve that jutted up right against your walls.
“‘ren, don’t wanna hold out anymore.” relentless is what you’re becoming, tired of the way that your pussy grows achey with every passing moment—it’s not enough.
“you said just the t-tip.”
“i don’t fucking want just the tip!” the tears brimming your eyes are growing more apparent, to the point where eren can’t just simply ignore them. “gotta—you gotta let me have it all!”
eren feels like he’s lost his mind: you’re already driving yourself onto his dick, a silent scream falling from your lips as you split yourself open with his sheer thickness. your hands reach to grab whatever they can, one on the back of his searing nape, and the other on top of his own.
the sought out feeling of being full makes your head almost go haywire, stumbling over words as he bottoms out, tip feathering kisses to your cervix, “i’m sososo obsessed with you eren.”
and as much as he hates to admit it, he’s sososo obsessed with you too. despite all of his complaints, there’s still a longing to give you everything you want—need, even. he can’t help but sigh when your walls start to flutter around him, as if your pussy is welcoming him like it always has.
with your guidance, he moves a hand up your shirt and towards to chest, taking your puffy nipples in hand, rolling and prodding at it before messily taking one into his mouth.
“just…right there—”
your words are less than coherent—too busy slamming yourself back down onto him to make any sense to your boyfriend, who looks at you with his brows pulled together. it’s the same look he gives when he wants to say how ditzy you can be sometimes, but you just can’t help it!
there’s a thickening ring of cream near his base, and the squelching sounds of your cunt fucking him dumb overpowers any other sounds in the room. you sniffle and whine as your pace falters, legs giving out from your sporadic bouncing as you fall into eren. it’s almost a wonder how ‘just the tip’ turned into his tip and much more, but you don’t care enough, too eager to grind your hips along his pelvis, barely moving on his length as you play with your clit.
“you can’t do that...” he finds himself mumbling out. how is it fair for you to do all of this to him, making his dick a fucking mess just to finish it all by your self; without him. “c’mon baby, that’s so unfair” he continues to mumble about how ‘unfair’ it is as he grabs a vice hold of your hips, steadying them in place for a moment and lifting you off of him, just to slam you back down with a pace more fervent than before—one that knocks the fucking wind out of your lungs and roughly brings you back down to earth.
and the trip back down hits as hard as his thrusts. the pace is unforgiving, one that you almost didn’t know he had—barring your body to his chest to easily make you meet him halfway as he fucks up into you with low remorse. his eagerness has dick slipping out of your hole and sliding up against your swollen clit, involuntary spreading the mix of your slick and his pre everywhere between the two of you.
“feel’s so good—yeahyeahyeah—don’t stop ‘ren…” you babble run on sentences that would’ve made zero sense had eren not known you. but he does: he knows the way your brain seemed to shut down while fucking you, and how your velvety walls essentially have been warped by his cock pummelling into you at any given moment.
the arch in your back is irregular, dipped beautifully for eren to hesitantly trace lines up and down the expanse of bare skin. your pussy is the best (and only) one he’s ever had, and there’s nothing that’ll ever change that fact.
because who else’s moans will sound like a god-gifted symphony from heaven? who else’s cunt will tighten around him like so the way you do when you’re cumming, translucent white slick dragging down all over and down to pants? who else will whine and cry his name the way you do? who else will make him happily empty his balls inside of them just because they begged and asked?
nobody.
after all, you’re one of a kind.
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changetyre · 21 days ago
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Cupid
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SUMMARY: After the harsh moments you endured with your husband there appear to be better days ahead. Part of the Verstappen Family Verse
WARNINGS: none? Short.
A/N: Lea is 6 and Ivy is 3
Things got better, not easily but they did. Max and you had decided that before anything else you had to talk through the hard months you had endured and also make sure both Lea and Ivy got some sort of explanation and apology for the way they were affected by their parent's miscommunication and being on the receiving end of the pent up anger and frustration.
That's not to say that Max and you spent another second away from each other physically, the same night as Max and you finally spoke you had a passionate night. It was one of the best nights you had perhaps because you'd been longing for each other again for so long, or because of all the emotion involved, or maybe both. 
Christmas luckily had been filled with love and joy around the house once more, both Daniel and Lando as well as their families had all spent the night with the family something which both Lea and Ivy had greatly enjoyed. 
Flashback **
You let out a deep breath as a soft breeze from the open window woke you up. You could feel your husband's arm wrapped tightly around your waist which immediately brought a smile to your face, weirdly also making you want to cry. 
"Morning" You heard Max's hushed voice behind you as he leaned closer burying his face in the crook of your neck. 
You giggled at the way his nose tickled your neck but leaned backward and deeper into his arms. "Hi." 
 "Merry Christmas liefde." He placed a kiss on your shoulder, then one on your jaw, on your cheek, and finally on your lips as you spun around to face him. 
"Merry-" 
"MAMA PAPA!" Your bubble of romance was interrupted as your screaming children burst into the room. 
"Woah!" Max huffed as they jumped on the bed landing on top of him. 
"PAPA SANTA CAME!" Lea had a hard time containing her excitement. 
"MAMA DEWS PWESENTS!" Ivy giggled happily as she sat on your lap. 
"PAPA MAMA COME QUICK!"  Lea hopped off her father pulling his arm for him to get up. 
"Why don't you go wake up Lando and Dani huh? I'm sure they'll be excited that Santa came." Max tempted the girls who happily obliged with his suggestion.
Despite the interruption, it was a happy and loud morning for everyone.
**
New years had been a little rougher since you'd been feeling a little sick a few days before, which you thought was probably simply from all the food that you'd been eating during the holidays since it'd happened to you before. 
But things became much clearer to you a month later. You'd stopped yourself from taking the test, pushing it as far back as you possibly could because you weren't sure how you'd handle another negative test, afraid that you'd lose yourself again. 
But finally, you did. You had to. You'd noticed you were becoming distracted and distant, losing yourself in other ways because of the worry of what might be and the stress of making the same mistakes again so you'd simply opted for finding out. 
So there you sat, a few days away from Valentine's Day, on the toilet lid staring at the numerous tests on the counter that indicated you were pregnant. There were far too many emotions coursing through your body a mix of joy and complete fear, it was so different from when you found out about Lea and Ivy. 
You were unsure of how long you'd sat there, just...staring. But it was long enough to worry Max who'd been left to entertain your girls downstairs. 
"Liefde?" You heard him call you from your bedroom. 
You simply looked to the door not having time enough to do anything before he'd opened the bathroom door. 
"Max" He immediately knew something had happened from the way you said his name so weakily. 
"Are you okay wha-" He didn't have to finish his question before his eyes found the tests on the counter. 
"I'm sorry I just...I just found out and-" You weren't exactly sure how to handle this, a few months ago both you and Max had been desperately trying for a result like this but not long ago you'd also both decided that this should only happen when both of you were in a better place and even though you had managed that there was still so much to through that it scared you. 
"Oh my god." Max's eyes glossed over as soon as he picked up the first test reading its result, quickly picking up another, then another before he let his eyes scan the rest of the tests. 
"Max-" You wanted a reaction, you wanted him to say something but he simply stared just like you. "Max." You called him again your voice still just as weak but he finally turned to look at you. 
"oh mijn liefde." He pulled you into his arms holding you tightly after noticing your fear and uncertainty. 
"I'm scared." you sniffled in his arms being honest about your feelings. 
"Shh, we'll be okay...I promise you we'll be okay, this is our little miracle." Max whispered softly to you placing his hand on your stomach. 
This only made you cry harder, this time a sense of relief washing over you.
"I love you." He whispered kissing your temple as he continued holding you tightly. "I love you so much."
You cried for a few minutes in his arms before finally looking at him through teary eyes. "We're having another baby." It was like it was finally sinking in for you. 
Max couldn't hold back the laugh that rumbled in his chest. "Yes, we are." He rested his forehead against yours, his own tears mixing with yours. 
"I'm pregnant again." You closed your eyes finally allowing yourself to accept the truth. A huge wave of relief flooding you this time, of pride and joy. 
"Yes, you are." Max laughed, cried, and smiled with you. 
"We're gonna be okay." You said to yourself a little louder this time, wiping your eyes. 
Max raked his fingers through your hair, placing a soft kiss on your lips. "We're gonna be okay." He repeated with you. 
"MAMA!" You heard Lea call for you. "IVY PAINTED PAPA'S TROPHY AGAIN!" You heard her yell after. 
Both Max and you looked at each other before bursting out in laughter. "You ready for some more of this?" You jokingly asked your husband. 
"With you?" Max smiled. "Always." 
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shadowandlightt · 3 months ago
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Of Nightmares and Memories | Fourteen| Azriel X Rhys' Little Sister! Reader
Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Talks of death.
A/N: SO a lot of feelings in this one. I hope you guys like it, I'm really getting excited about where this story is about to go.
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen
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When you wake up hours later, the sun is high in the sky. The first thing you notice is that you aren’t in Az’s room anymore. But instead you’re in the room that you grew up in. You haven't been in this room since you came back. In fact, you’d been too afraid to come up here. Too afraid of the memories it would bring. 
“Az?” You question, looking around the room to find it empty. 
He was gone. No trace of his shadows, even your own that floated about the room seemed to want nothing to do with you. You screwed it all up this time. You used him, Gods, you should never have taken him to bed. That shouldn’t have been your first time with him. That wasn’t how that was meant to go. 
Tears blur your vision as you bury your head back into your pillow and begin to sob. You can’t help the tears, can’t do anything to try to stop them. You don’t want to. You need to feel the pain, because you can only imagine how Azriel felt. How used he must’ve felt, knowing you were only there for a distraction. 
You loved him, so much. But all you could think of last night was not feeling everything else. Then you were so consumed by the feeling of him, that you forgot to feel about him. You felt dirty, so fucking dirty that you wanted to scrub every inch of your skin raw. But you couldn’t bring  yourself to get out of the bed. So you didn’t.
You stayed in bed for the eternity of the day. You didn’t move, opting to stare at the wall instead, feeling everything and at the same time feeling nothing. 
The following day, when you finally dragged yourself from your rooms, you were confronted by Rhys, who had nothing but worry in his eyes. You nearly broke down into tears again at  the sight. For so many years, you never thought you’d see him again. You never thought you’d have him hold you, and comfort you, even if you didn’t deserve his comfort. 
“Take me back to the townhouse,” You cry into his shoulder, “I can’t stay here.” 
“Okay,” He whispers into your dark hair, followed by the sound of his wings unfurling. 
You hold your breath as he shoots to the sky, being as gentle as possible. Azirel must have told him that you had some sort of reaction from flying. So when you land on the rooftop of the Townhouse, you can’t help but vomit into a nearby plant. You heave and heave until there’s nothing left in your stomach. 
“Are you alright?” Rhys asks as he holds your hair back. 
You can only shake your head, feeling the scars on your back burn again. You fall to the ground, Rhys’ arms still holding you as you begin to cry. You sob again, feeling the weight of the world that you now live in. The world without your mother, and even your father. The world in which you were the reason your mother died, because you didn't fight hard enough to save her. 
“I didn’t fight,” You sob uncontrollably, twisting to bury your head in his shoulder once more. 
He smelled like her, and like your father at the same time. Jasmine, like her, and pure night like him. It made you cry even harder. Made you miss them even more. Made your heart break just a little further. 
“Shh,” He whispers, “You did your best.” 
How he knew what you were talking about, you don’t know. Maybe your mind was wide open for him to read. But you couldn't feel him there. Maybe he just knew you better than you thought, even after all of these years. 
“You were a mere child, Y/N, I’m not sure I could’ve done anything differently at your age,” He admits, “No one blames you for what happened. You were a victim, not a cause.” 
Your head shakes without permission. You hear what he’s saying, but you can’t believe it. You won’t allow yourself to believe it. So instead you cry and cry, without the energy to fight with him it’s all you can do. 
Eventually you make your way to the room that’s now been designated as yours, and hide in the bed once more. It’s all you can do. All you have the energy for. Rhys pokes his head in and checks on you before dinner. The twin wraiths leave a plate at the foot of your bed, but you can’t bring yourself to eat. 
All you want is Azriel, but you don’t deserve him. Not after how you used him. Not after what you took from him. Even carrying the weight of your mother’s death, you’ve never felt as guilty as you do thinking about what you did to Az. 
You aren’t sure how much time passed before Mor is barging into your room and clinging your curtains open, “Enough is enough.” 
“Go away,” You moan, turning away from the windows. 
“You aren’t allowed to sulk here any longer. Rhys might be content to let you wither away, but I will not.”
“Leave me alone, Mor.” 
“I won’t pretend to know what the devil happened between you and Az, because you seemed to be coming back to all of us before whatever it was ... but it’s time to move on.” 
“I’m happy staying here.” 
“Don’t make me get Cassian.” 
Her warning made you gingerly sit up, muscles screaming in protest due to not being used in so long. You were allowing yourself to become even weaker, something you swore you wouldn’t do. 
“Talk to me,” Mor begged, “Let me in…let someone in. Don’t keep locking yourself away, both physically and metaphorically.” 
“I don’t know how anymore,” You admit to her, “I don’t know how to be anymore.” 
“What happened between you and Az?” She asked softly, “I won’t tell anyone.” 
You shake your head, unable to put it into words.Cassian was probably the only other one who knew, unless Az shared with Rhys, so he could understand why you were the way that you were.
“I slept with him,” You whisper, “I used him for sex. And it felt so good. But then when I woke up and realized what I had done...I couldn’t face him.” 
There’s silence for a moment, before Mor wraps you in her strong arms. She smooths your hair down, and strokes you back, like a mother comforting her child. It brings tears to your eyes once more. 
“Az wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t want to,” She confirms, “You did nothing.” 
“Our first time shouldn’t have been because I was looking for a distraction,” You cry out. 
She continues to hold you, trying her best to soothe you as you work through everything in your head. You tell her about how flying made you feel, and how you needed a distraction and the only thing you could think of was Azriel. You told her about how you and Lucien used to use one another in that way, back when you were being held in Spring. How you were the first person he’d been with since his brothers held him down as they killed his love in front of him. 
You told her everything. The words flowing out before you could stop them. What you couldn’t put into words you showed her in her mind, so she could understand. She sat in silence and let you talk until you had no words left, and then she did something you hadn’t expected. 
“It’s time to forgive yourself,” She says carefully, “None of that was your fault. You’ve heard us say it before, but really hear me now, Y/N, you know what my power is. So you know I speak the truth, it was not your fault. You did what you had to do in order to survive, the same thing Rhys did under the mountain. You are blameless.” 
“But I-” 
“Your mother wouldn’t want you to live like this,” She states, “So if you’re going to do anything, live. Live for her, because you and Rhys are all that is left of her.” 
You feel something in your chest as you notice a shadow dancing in the corner of the room. It wasn’t one of yours, you realized with a pang in your chest. He was checking on you…even after what you did. He was making sure you were okay. 
“Have you talked to him?” You question, nodding over to the shadow. 
“He wanted to give you the space you needed to figure things out,” She nods, “Not because he doesn’t want to be around you, but because he thought you didn’t want him near.” 
“I always want him near,” You sniff, wiping away your tears. 
“I’ll be sure to tell him that when I see him,” She smiles brightly at you, “Now, let’s get you dressed. The twins made quite the spread downstairs and Feyre and I cannot eat it all alone.” 
“Where’s Rhys?” 
“With Amren, trying to help decode the book.”
You nod and force yourself to stand, the shadow now curling around your ankle in an attempt to get closer to you. Like it knew you wanted Azriel near, but his shadows were the next best thing. You wanted to ask where he was, but didn’t want to know at the same time. You knew he was working his network of spies hard. 
So you eat with Feyre and Mor, laughing about the random stories Mor seemed to come up with over the course of the meal. And once it was over? You didn’t retreat to your rooms. Instead you found yourself on the terrace soaking up the last few rays of sunlight left of the day. Your head was tilted up towards the sky as your eyes were closed. 
You can feel a presence behind you, but you can also feel shadows lapping at your feet. You hesitantly smile and open your eyes, “Are you going to sit?” 
“I didn’t know if you’d want me to.” 
“I figured your shadows would’ve told you differently by now,” You try to make your tone light and teasing, even as you feel nothing but anxiety bubbling in your chest. 
“They did,” He confirms, “But still.” 
You motion to the seat next to you, scooting over slightly to make room for his wings. Those big beautiful wings that even you didn’t touch that night. Truthfully you weren’t sure if he would’ve let you touch them. 
“Do you regret it?” He asks you suddenly. 
You turn to look at him, golden skin glowing in the late day sun. He looked beautiful. He always did. How could you even think about regretting him? Azriel was like your heart walking outside of your body. The missing piece of your soul. You could never ever regret being anything with him. 
“No,” You say quickly, “No Az. I could never regret you.” 
“I just thought-” 
“I regret how it happened,” You admit, “I regret that I used you as a distraction, but I could never regret you.”
His head is bowed low as he nods. You know him well enough to know that his own need to prove himself, to be wanted, is showing through. You’re both broken, in more ways than one. He spent twelve years in captivity, not being shown an ounce of love. You now know what that's like. You know what it can do to a person. 
So, you get up and slide into his lap, gently tilting his chin up so he’ll look at you, “Azriel, I will never regret anything with you. You’re my heart.”
There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. It makes you smile as you lean down to kiss him. Really kiss him, softly and slowly. His hands hold onto your hips, holding you in place as he kisses you back. You can feel pieces of your heart slowly coming back together, like he’s the glue you needed. 
“I don’t want space,” You whisper against his lips, “Not from you. Never from you.” 
“I’ll keep that in mind, princess.” 
You stayed with him up on the terrace until the sun was long gone and the stars shone in the sky. You kissed him until your lips were swollen and bruised, but you didn’t care. Being in his arms felt better than any drug ever could. Mor was right, it was time to forgive yourself for everything that happened. 
“I’m sorry,” You finally speak, “For making you feel like I regretted you. For making you feel alone.” 
“I’m sorry for leaving you alone,” He sighs, “Can you forgive me?” 
“There’s nothing to forgive,” You shake your head, “Now come, I’m hungry and smell dinner downstairs.” 
He barks out a laugh and stands once you’re off of his lap, leaning down to peck your lips once more. The simple action leaves you feeling warm all over. Leaves you wanting more from him. But you also know now is not the time. So instead you lead him downstairs and into the dining room where the rest of your family is gathered. 
“There they are,” Cassian all but shouts, “We were wondering if you were going to join us!” 
“Leave them be, Cas,” Mor scolds him before turning and winking at you. 
Rhys is nearly beaming, and Feyre is smiling sweetly at you. You take a deep breath and find your place at the table, next to Azriel, like it’s always been. The conversation flows easily as you all eat. You find yourself laughing alongside Cassian, who’s more or less howling at one point. You feel normal again, your chest doesn’t feel empty. 
“We leave in the morning,” Rhys finally says, stopping the laughter. 
“For what?” You ask, feeling very much out of the loop. 
“The Mortal Queens have agreed to meet with us,” He explains, “You’re more than welcome to join us.”
You find yourself shaking your head before you speak, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 
“Are you sure?” Az asked you, “You won’t be an imposition.” 
“No,” You say again, a little stronger this time, “I think the best thing for me to do is to stay here in Velaris.” 
“Okay,” Rhys relented, “We should be back tomorrow night, at the latest. Hopefully the Queens don’t keep us waiting.” 
So you see them off in the morning and then pace around the house whilst you wait for them to return. Amren, being the only one who can possibly translate the book, is busy trying to do just that. So you pace, and pace, and pace. No doubt wearing down the luxurious carpet in the townhouse. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You know, more than likely, that no harm will come to them. But you still can’t help but worry. 
You finally settle on the couch after an hour or so, and must drift off because you don’t hear them when they come back. You don’t hear the hushed conversation, recounting everything that happened. No, you only stir when Azriel gently brushes your cheek and whispers your name. 
Instantly your eyes fly open and you surge forward to hold him. He lets out a little laugh, holding you back, tucking his face into your dark hair. 
“I was only gone a few hours,” He says softly, arms tightening around you. 
“She was worried,” Rhys fills in for him, “Which she shouldn’t have been, it was just a meeting.” 
You shake your head, and place a kiss on Azriel’s neck before pulling back and giving your brother a crude gesture. He barks out a laugh before motioning for you to follow him outside. You look to Az who just nods, and moves to help you stand from the floor that you’d ended up on. 
“We need to talk,” Rhys said calmly. 
You nod and follow him outside, feeling panic well up in your gut. Something happened, something that would change the course of the war. You could feel it. 
“We have to go to the Court of Nightmares,” He says once you’re in the courtyard, “I told you that I wouldn’t leave you out of this. And as much as I wish she wouldn’t, Feyre is coming, so you have a decision to make. You may come, and play the part, or you can stay here and they’ll know nothing different.” 
“Why are you going?” 
So he explains, putting an emphasis on needing a distraction. And as much as it makes you sick to your stomach to think about going back there, after so many years, and playing the part of the cruel princess that you played all of those years in spring…you knew you needed to go. 
“If you need a distraction, then you really will need me,” You admit to him, “I’m unwed and unmated, from the most powerful line in our history. If Mor was the top of the market, imagine what I’ll be. No male will be paying attention to what anyone else is doing.” 
“I don’t want to put you in that position,” He shakes his head. 
“You aren’t putting me in any position,” You argued, “I’m offering. I won’t sit idly by and let others fight this war for me. If this is what I can do to help, then so be it.” 
“Azriel won’t like it.” 
“I won’t like it either, but I’ll do it. For our family, I’d do anything.”  
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nexility-sims · 8 months ago
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𝐍𝐎. 𝟕   ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜   |   THE DEN, MID MARCH 1991
❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.
   ❛  Once the door shut, the bar's soundscape—its patrons talking and laughing, live music blaring, the slamming of doors and glasses, feet thudding along stairs—hushed. The small backroom may well have been underwater. That was where Leonor’s mind went as she heard the muffled noise, although the red overhead lighting suggested a place more alien than the blue tunnels of Nakawe’s public aquarium. Soon enough, her host’s voice drowned out the murky sounds. They spoke in a conversational tone as she lingered by the door, not needing to raise their voices or lean in close to be heard. Any anxiety she brought from home that evening was long gone. Now two hours in, immersing herself in a room of undimmed vitality had an effect. So too had the sweet beers that found their way into her hands. She had entered the room at Renzo's request and was now, more than anything else, curious.
❧ yay, finally some fun stuff ! i wanted to write more (and write better) for this scene, but i ended up being sick :/ anyway, a few paragraphs is progress, and hopefully there'll be more going forward ! i miss the writing i was doing in episode one, smh. also: in uspanian parlance, a "flower girl" as used here is a sex worker dfdsfk
𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓
Leonor knew she was being studied as they sat shoulder-to-shoulder, breezing through the small talk of introductions. That was normal. Indeed, it hadn't been a surprise to her that he wanted to meet her. In most settings, it was de rigueur that an establishment's owner sought the honor and responsibility of welcoming whatever royal decided to visit. Leonor took the opportunity to study him, too. Despite being a stranger, his mannerisms gave her something to work with. He was unlike her. Informal and familiar, he struck her as strange in the way those few regular people she encountered always did. In this case, she liked it. The ease with which he spoke gripped her attention. It was disarming. More than that, it encouraged her to play along. They sank further into the couch together, cozying up as if this was a nightly occurrence instead of a first time meeting.
An illusion of intimacy descended over them, and Leonor spoke thoughtlessly as he held her gaze. She could tell he had more to say—that, sensing she was willing to be forthcoming, he wanted to meet her there. The acrid smell of cigarettes blanketed the tiny space, but Leonor also noticed a different sort of heady scent clung to his skin. Whatever he wore was earthy, heavy cedar or tobacco cut with something fruit-like, sweet, pungent. It wasn't that she had a nose for such things. The proximity distracted her. If she wanted, she could close the mere inches of space between them and inhale directly from the source. She knew he had arrived only recently and imagined him, perhaps an hour earlier, in a bathroom somewhere holding a sleek fragrance bottle. On impulse, she opted to cut the conversation short. She leaned in with, not a care, but the nascent awareness that there would be many more conversations to come.
TRANSCRIPT:
LEONOR | I think I overdressed …
KORE | Renzo isn’t here yet, so— LEONOR | Do I have to meet someone new tonight? KORE | He asked. It’ll be fine.
KORE | Stop stalling! Just open the door and go chat. LEONOR | I feel like a flower girl. SYBIL | Hey, that’s good money, you could be— LEONOR | [Groans]
RENZO | They didn’t come in? LEONOR | [Sighs]
RENZO | Come on, sit down. No pressure.
LEONOR | Nice to meet you. I’m Leonor— RENZO | [Laughs] Oh, yeah, I know.
LEONOR | Kore had to tell me who you were. I’m sorry, but I really don’t watch much television. RENZO | Doesn’t offend me. Small screen actors and princesses? Different leagues.
RENZO | So, what should I call you, then? “My princess?” LEONOR | People call me Nora. Friends.
RENZO | I can? LEONOR | If you want to. RENZO | Yeah, I do. I’m glad you came, Nora.
RENZO | … You seem out of place. LEONOR | I feel that way. Or, less now. It’s not somewhere I would have thought to go, but it feels welcoming. Friendly. RENZO | A rule of Renzo’s Refuge—unspoken, exclusive, of course. Some of us have images to maintain.
LEONOR | Kore said it was supposed to be a “haven.” RENZO | [Snickers] A stretch to you, huh?
RENZO | I just wanted a private place to drop the act and be myself. There aren’t a lot of people who get it but, those who do, it’s what they want, too. This life sucks sometimes. A lot. The rest of it is just—you know, my interests. Hobbies. I came here a ton before I bought it.
LEONOR | What can I say? It’s intriguing when you put it like that. RENZO | How did it sound before?
LEONOR | Pretentious. RENZO | Oh, you’d know about that, huh. [Both laugh]
RENZO | Well, no worries, I’ll take a convert. Maybe you’ll be a true believer after a few nights.
LEONOR | I’m surprised I’m here tonight. I’ve been sad and hiding. RENZO | Death does that. Are you a sad person? LEONOR | I don’t know what kind of person I am.
RENZO | Well, you know— LEONOR | No offense but, if I hear the “destruction, rebirth” platitude again, I’m going to scream. RENZO | [Chuckles] I was going to say that’s free license to try as many kinds as you like—go wild with it, you know, cut loose? Can princesses do that?—but I guess that’d be the very Uspanian thing to say.
LEONOR | [Hums] That’s setting in. It doesn’t matter anymore. RENZO | What doesn’t? LEONOR | What I do. Who I am. It’s overwhelming.
RENZO | Word of advice: that’s just what total freedom feels like— LEONOR | Uh huh. I’ll take your word for it—
KORE | [Squealing] Yes! SYBIL | [offscreen] Hurry up! Tell them to zip it up—it’s showtime!
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luna-writes-stuff · 1 year ago
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Hi, could you please do something with Crowley and Cas helping a stressed reader? ♡
this is for the permanently stressed girlies (me)
——
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Castiel
Regardless of what season Cas we are talking about, he is quick to adapt and learn. It is easy for him to notice and type of change in your mood and would probably notice the stress radiating off of you the moment you step into the room. He’d voice his observation quickly, something along the lines of ‘you’re stressed’. It’s not a question - it’s a statement. He wouldn’t know what to do with that information though. Depending on how you’d respond to his statement, he’d start some other form of contact. When you opt to ignore him, he’ll follow you around somewhat lost. He wants to help, but has no idea how. If your stress relies on simple chores, he’d probably do them for you. You wouldn’t even have to ask him. At the time you’re ready to work on them, he’d offer a casual ‘don’t worry, I already did that for you’. If you’re annoyed stressed and would give him some sort of snarky remark or a ‘not now, Cas’, he’d try to soothe you through words. He will, again, follow you around but ask what happened and see if there is anything he can do to calm you down for now. He’s been around humans for long enough to understand that stress is not a good motivator. Earlier seasons Cas would likely take you away to a place where you can’t work on the things plaguing your mind, if only for a short moment, whereas later seasons Cas would understand that more often than not a simple moment of silence covered in a hug or coffee (or tea) is enough to calm you down for the time being. Afterwards, he’d try to help you resolve certain matters if you allow him. If not, he’d be sure to offer you some solace after you’re done working.
——
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Crowley
Crowley knows what it’s like to be busy like no other. As king of hell he has many duties to attend to, and therefor knows the name ‘stress’ all too well. He makes sure he has free time for you nonetheless. Unlike Cas, he might not immediately see the stress, but he notices something is wrong right away. After a few words or mumbles from you, he‘ll understand quickly. Unfortunately, he won’t always have time, which can suck, but he makes sure you’re reassured in one way or the other before he ultimately leaves again. If he’s busy, he’ll try to rationalise where the stress comes from and if the amount is justified for the chore. In times of stress, it can be difficult to calm down, but somehow he always manages to say just the right words. If there is nothing keeping him from you at the moment, he would make sure you have a short moment of rest and would try to prioritise matters with you. He’ll make sure you take enough breaks and will force you if you refuse to take any. During those forced breaks he’ll probably talk about his own day in a way to distract you from what you were doing. He knows you’re interested in whatever he’s doing and regardless of the stress you’re under, you’d always show interest in him. It’s one of the most natural ways of causing a distraction. You wouldn’t even notice the thirty minute talk, or the way your heartbeat slows just a little as he continues to rant over what has happened in hell this time.
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cult-of-the-eye · 8 months ago
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Flesh avatar!Martin fic
TW: severe body image issues, self hatred, negative self talk, body dysmorphia, body horror (ish), unhealthy one sided relationships
Jon wasn’t eating.
The level of Martin’s romantic obsession had never crossed the line of tracking someone’s eating habits, but it didn’t take a genius to see that whatever he was eating, it wasn’t enough. His own apple and snack bar combination had lasted him throughout secondary school, a certainty that he sincerely hoped wouldn’t change any time soon. But Jon needed it more than him.
Behind his desk, he felt small. He didn’t have to be aware of the flesh that hung off his limbs in jiggling masses, so he opted for something better. Something smaller. Jon was substantially smaller than him - a fact that he found overwhelming at first. He switched between the constant burning of awe of a lithe and sharp frame and the need to put his excess to use.
The line of sight from his desk to Jon’s office was cruelly clear. A hulking great wooden door between them, one that was the stumbling subject of many of his own poems. A foggy allegory of distance. It was a momentous occasion of sunshine when that door peeled open. Each time, Martin drank his fill of Jonathan Sims, but recently, it had left his mouth uncomfortably dry.
Today was one of those occasions. A forest green sweater vest hung off what only just passed off as a body. Lines cut beneath his deep brown eyes, distracting rather than highlighting. Cheekbones that once lifted a haughty expression only shadowed a much heavier one. Maybe this was just the rose tint that surrounded Jon, romanticising a time of crisis where Martin could justify stepping in. Or maybe Jon was actually not doing well. His body followed this line of thinking, footsteps treading heavily after Jon’s rabbit-footed paces, into the kitchen.
“Hi, Jon.”
Fat kids could only ever want to be one of three things when they grew up. Either utilise their size as a sign of comedy, strength or as softness. Anything else was unforgivable. Martin chose softness. He let that seep into his words, melting his body into the patches in the floor, so he would not trip.
“Martin.”
He lapped up the slight incline of his neck, a nod that contained a dizzying array of possibilities. Jon was clutching at a chipped mug as if it were his only anchor to the mortal world. Martin was inclined to believe that.
“I was wondering…”
The cupboard doors bristled against the hinges in the silence that followed. Jon did not expect further conversation. Neither did Martin.
“Yes?”
“I brought too much food.”
“Right.”
Now, Martin. Prove your value as a pile of meat.
“Would you like some?”
An apple. A peace offering. An organic bridge of sorts, nutrients shared from a body that doesn’t need it to a body that does. Almost parasitic. And Jon looked at it as such. With the disgust of someone offering to attach to him, to leach off of his energy and time.
“It’s just a fruit. It won’t kill you.”
Jon’s eyes sunk further into the past. Into whatever warren he had been dragged into, taking from him his edges and sanding down into the bare necessities. Martin only had one card left to play.
“I…please just take it, Jon?”
Sincerity.
Emotions are rarely seen in the fat kid. Emotions are frowned upon. They increase your size, your ability to be noticed, so reassuring or stoic or half-laughing are your only choices. This is a wildcard. Not even Jonathan Sims could predict his response. Unpredictable was something Martin could get used to being.
“...Sure, Martin.”
Jon gave Martin a wide berth while crossing the kitchen. As if he had grown suddenly and was unsure of his new dimensions. Martin felt no contortion of his size, standing, watching Jon walk away, biting the apple in his hand. There was no door to the kitchen, of any material, let alone wood. Nothing especially poetic about eating an apple in an office. Just a faint sense of hunger and a new willingness to do something about it.
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faelune-home · 2 months ago
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FFXIVWrite 2024 #3: Tempest
(A/n: Another entry into the mini role quest rewrite series I'll be trying to do this month. This time its Alisaie in Ishgard for the magic quest! Cos she didn't really get a proper experience in Ishgard when she rejoined the story, so it'd be neat to give her the chance to see it here while dealing with the blasphemy. Especially since the magic storyline is focused heavily on the Chruch and old zealotry in the nation and how cast aside it all is in the wake of it all.
I'm also taking advantage of this being a light rewrite, cos I'm so used to the regular quests sending you directly to Aymeric's office to talk to him so much, I forgot how the role quest actually started and automatically wrote it at the congregation rather than the on the spot aetheryte meeting with Artoirel it actually was. And I didn't feel like re-rewriting to fit the quest layout. Welp.
It doesn't have to be 100% matching in dialogue and actions, just enough to be recognisable as the storyline with a new character involved. That's my feeling on rewrites and POV changes at least.
Word count: 1490)
Alisaie shivered as the frigid wind picked up, blowing snow into her face. While Ishgard certainly wasn’t as cold as Garlemald, to the point that she didn’t need as many heavy layers to handle Coerthan snowfall, it was still bitterly cold, especially coming from the humid Thavnair.
Her old coat was definitely better suited for this than her current attire, but she didn’t think to sidetrack back home to grab it when Fhara had asked her to come along and answer the Ishgardian delegate’s request for aid. And they were already outside the Congregation to meet Ser Aymeric for more information.
“I can’t imagine how Alphinaud managed here when you three fled from the Crystal Braves. He’s awful with the cold,” she huffed, already appreciating the warmth as they stepped over the threshold into the main hall.
“I think he tried to stay indoors as much as possible before Tataru made him the travelling gear that was better for the weather. Lord Fortemps gave him a little office in the manor to work in while he took on paperwork favours for folk,” Fhara said, a fond smile on her face as she recalled.
“Of course he did all the paperwork. I remember our Studium days, he was always working on papers and reports and all sorts. At least when he wasn’t engaging in some debate or flattery with his peers.” Alisaie rolled her eyes to the memory, already imagining him sitting surrounded by towers of books and papers. Perhaps it was unkind to him as he was now, long since grown from the experience, but if she had to imagine him at the time…
“I think he mainly wanted a distraction from everything that happened back then,” Fhara replied, no defensiveness in her tone, but it made Alisaie frown all the same, opting not to respond.
At that time, the nearby guarded door opened, a knight slipping out and trotting along to an officer by the large desk central to the room. The guard beckoned them over, saying, “Ser Aymeric will be free to see you now. Lord Artoirel is still engaged but should be joining you in due time.” Both ladies offered polite nods of thanks as they entered into the hallway and along to the meeting room.
As assumed, he was already waiting for them, and upon their arrival, he looked up from the paper he was reading and immediately broke out into a broad, warm grin at the sight of Fhara. Alisaie couldn’t help but feel overlooked as his gaze didn’t even seem to glance over her.
“Fhara, tis good to see you again,” he greeted, stepping round the table to meet with her. He stopped just short, a little bit close but made no move to touch or offer his hand. Just a polite bow, eyes never slipping.
“And you, though of course the circumstances aren’t…well,” Fhara coughed in an awkward greeting, ears lying low upon her head and eyes looking away from the man, shuffling back a step. Alisaie couldn’t help but tilt her head, confused at the response. Fhara then perked up again to continue, gesturing at Alisaie, “But I’ve brought Alisaie with me- you remember her? I figured she’d be a better help with any arcane skills since it isn't really my forte.”
Alisaie nodded, keeping steady eye contact now that she was finally being acknowledged by Aymeric. His welcoming smile was no less warm, but definitely more tempered compared to how he’d approached Fhara.
“Lady Alisaie, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Properly, I might add, given the circumstances you first arrived here all that time ago.”
Alisaie flushed and fought the urge to pout like a child over the reminder.
“Aye. I’ll be glad to show my appreciation for the treatment, and make a better show of myself in general.”
“I don’t doubt it, based on your brother’s tales,” Aymeric nodded. 
“Knowing my brother, I’m sure he’s only painted me in the finest light,” Alisaie frowned, ignoring the twinge of concern buzzing at the back of her mind. All the more reason to try and leave a good impression while she was here then.
Aymeric couldn’t help the bemusement that curled his lip ever so slightly, but before he could respond to it, the door behind them creaked open once more, to which he instead replied, “I’m sure Lord Artoirel could reassure you of what he’s heard from Master Alphinaud’s time here. Good to have you here at last.” Artoirel wasted no time on introductions save a brief bow of acknowledgement to both ladies.
“Indeed, forgive me for the delay. The reports on the Blasphemy’s appearances are more numerous every time we investigate, and despite the fact that it never attacks, the panic left in its wake causes more and more people to turn,” he said.
“Tis passing strange indeed, but no less dangerous for the impact it leaves on the people here,” Aymeric mumbled, “Ishgard is still recovering from the wounds of the Dragonsong War, both physical and mental. It will take many years and most likely many generations before people are truly comfortable with dragons, but to have a beast in the form of a dragon lingering and causing havoc with but a single appearance, even without taking action, it could risk tensions rising once more, even if people weren’t turning due to the fear.” He cast another glance at Alisaie, a curious look in his eye that she immediately knew how to read.
“You needn’t worry about catching me up on matters here. I was aware of the broad facts of your long war from books at the Studium, and Alphinaud updated me on the tale once I rejoined the Scions. I’m aware that in the wake of drawing the war to a close, there was much unrest - not only people lacking trust in their draconic enemies truly ending the war, but also much internal distrust and concern, such as between the high- and lowborn, and toward the Church.”
“He certainly did well to apprise you, my lady,” Artoirel said, sounding somewhat impressed, “But indeed, Ishgard is still internally shaken. We have much debate over how to move forward and where best to allocate resources, and our class divisions cause much difficulty and moving forward, especially where dragons are concerned. But faith in the Church is still at its lowest. Understandably so given the power it held with the Archbishop in charge and the many thousand years promoting misinformation and zealotry.”
“I could see members of the Church being particularly vulnerable to this blasphemy’s influence with the current atmosphere,” Aymeric said, “To which end, I would speak with a clergyman to gain insight into the beast. He supposedly witnessed the man that transformed into our now wandering dragon.”
“A witness that didn’t then transform himself?” Fhara gaped, sharing a glance of equal surprise with Alisaie.
“Miraculous as it may be, we shan’t overlook the opportunity it gives us to find out who this beast may have originally been. If we can learn that much, we can maybe find out why they may have turned in the first place.”
The group nodded at Artoirel’s declaration, and Fhara proceeded to follow him out of the room, Alisaie being halted by Aymeric for a brief moment.
“I should hope that if your brother told you much about the war, he’s also warned you of our people’s tendencies. I would be the first to admit that we are a pious city to the point of blind zealotry, and it can make many here…difficult to contend with. And the attitudes toward outsiders still haven't truly been lost, even with all Fhara has done for us.”
Alisaie regarded him carefully, turning the warning over in her head. Then she finally crossed her arms and tried to look confident.
“My brother has shared some other stories of his time here beyond the journey into dragon territory, so I have some idea of what to expect. But I take it you wouldn’t warn me if you didn’t think it’d be needed. So I appreciate it. And I shall try my best to keep a cool head, though I’ll warn you in turn that I’m not the diplomatic type like Alphinaud is, if you need someone more delicate with their words.”
“Duly noted,” he replied, though he had a dark look in his eye despite the friendly smile he tried to hide it with, “But I can handle the more delicate exchanges, my lady. Perhaps at this time, we may even need someone willing to be blunt enough for people to fully understand what’s happening and where we’re going from here.”
The implication in his words almost sent a shiver through her, before she chased after him back out the building. At least then, she could attribute it to the cold from the building storm as they made their way to the Cathedral on the upper levels.
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illfoandillfie · 10 months ago
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Hi, I'm so glad you are doing the advent calendar again!
I think someone (or maybe it was me 😅) requested this before but I would love a little blurb related to ADKOE but from Roger's point of view, could be something of a continuation of where the story is now, or one of the previous scenes from his perspective, or even a bit of a introspective moment of reflection when 'y/n' is not there.
Of course no worries if this is not something you would be interested in writing, I'm so looking forward to whatever you post 😊
Thank you! 💕
Blurb Advent 2023: Day 25
ahhh amazing, I was hoping someone would ask for this again lmao, it was the push I needed to actually finish it!
It's set in during the munch chapter. Mostly fluffy with maybe a little angst just from some of the thoughts he's having. It was a lot of fun figuring out and writing so I'd defs be open to doing more of these in the future! Also, it's officially Christmas Day for me here so for those who celebrate, merry christmas! I hope this is a decent sort of present lmao.
Warnings: Modern AU, smut, professor x student, slowburn romance, dom/sub dynamics and discussion of them, munch, conversations about bdsm/kink, body painting, mentions of Dylan, a mention of sexual abuse/rape but nothing graphic and only in a theoretical way.
Roger had been a little reluctant to leave you on your own, but you’d seemed to be doing alright talking to Daisy and Jo and he knew he couldn’t hover around you all day. So he asked Mike to join him in the kitchen, a little curious to see what the other man had made of you so far. And he didn’t have to wait long to find out.   “Well Y/N is just as lovely as you said. Bit shy but that’s understandable.” Mike said as he watched Roger crack eggs into the brownie mix, “How’s it going with her?”  “In one word, surprising.”  “Oh?”  Roger decided how best to elaborate as he mixed the batter, “I don’t want to go into too much detail-”  “Right, cause you’ve never been the sort to kiss and tell,” Mike laughed.  Roger laughed too but shook his head, “No it’s going well I think. She’s still learning, but she’s getting there. Like we played around with some dirty talk recently. Partly just cause, y’know, it’s hot, but also because you’re right, she can be a bit shy. And I’m trying to get her to feel less self-conscious when vocalising what she wants. She was hesitant at first but once she got into it some of what she came out with was...” It was impossible to explain so Roger opted to just gesture emphatically with his hands.  Mike just laughed, “That certainly does sound like fun.”  “Oh, it was.” Roger swallowed thickly as he remembered how you’d sounded admitting that you think about him. He hoped Mike wouldn’t ask too many questions because even just thinking about it now was making his cock twitch and he didn’t want to be too distracted during the munch. But it was hard when he kept hearing your whiney confessions replaying in his mind. When you’d confessed to masturbating more often than ever before. When you’d admitted that he, Roger, made you feel better than anyone else had. If he said any of that out loud Mike would assume it was just the ego boost, which he supposed was fair. He’d have thought so too if someone had told him. Heck, he’d been with women where the ego boost was nearly all he was running on. But not with you. The way you’d said it all, how hesitant you’d been to start, how you’d blushed afterwards. It wasn’t a performance with you. You meant it when you’d said it. And that’s what was turning Roger on. 
But thankfully all Mike said was, “I’m glad it’s going well. She seems like a sweet kid.”  “Yeah,” Roger chuckled, “Mostly.”  “What’d you mean?”  “Look, she is a lot of things – dedicated, intelligent, curious – but she’s also very....” he paused as he tried to find the right word, “You ever have a sub that just wants to rush into everything?”  Mike nodded sympathetically.  “She wants to know it all now, not later. And she’s always questioning the importance of what I’m trying to teach her.”  “Yeah I’ve known one or two subs like that. They think they know best even though they know nothing.”  “Yeah, exactly. I mean, we’ve had arguments about it. I try explaining why I’ve picked what I’ve picked to teach her and usually I get her to accept it even if she disagrees but last week she just wouldn’t let it go. So I got pissed off, probably snapped at her more than she deserved and basically told her it was my way or the highway.”  “I wouldn’t beat yourself up too much, everyone has moments like that.”  “Yeah but that’s not really how I want this thing with her to be. I’d just been saying it was okay if she wanted to say no to learning something or to alter kinks to suit her better, and then I turn around and tell her to suck it up and do what I say or else. That’s not the lesson I want her to learn from all this.”  “Rog I think you’re being a little harsh on yourself. I’m sure she understands the difference.” 
“I know, you’re probably right. I just....She approached me to teach her so she could impress this other guy and he is...” Roger paused again but only so he could take a steadying breath and unclench his hand from his wooden spoon, “I don’t know him, but he sounds like a real piece of work. But she is determined to have him. I just want to make sure she’s prepared and knows enough to protect herself because I worry what could happen to her.”  “You sure you’re not jealous?” Mike asked with a raised eyebrow and a joking grin, “I saw how you were watching her before.”  “I was making sure she wasn’t too overwhelmed by everything.”  “Mmhmm sure.”  “Oh shut up, it’s not jealousy. No, this guy is into some really hard stuff – CNC, free use, somnophilia. She told me he’s even joked about pimping her out to his friends. I’m genuinely worried that if she goes back to him he’ll drug and rape her and she’ll think it’s kink. I need to make sure she understands the difference.”  The smile had fallen from Mike’s face as he took Roger’s concern in, “Fuck, really?”  Roger nodded, “I’m so conscious that there’s a time limit.”  The was a pause as Mike considered what to say, “You’re a good dom Rog. You know your stuff, and I’m sure you’ll be able to teach her how to recognise danger signs, even if she gets stubborn about it first. I mean, you say something enough times it has to sink in eventually. And if she’s as smart as you say she is then she will work it out. Plus, now she’ll have more people she can go to for help if she needs it. Tina will’ve taken one look at the kid and got very mother hen about her, and you know Jo and Daisy’ll look out for her too.”  “Yeah,” Roger sighed, some of the anxiety that had started to build at the thought of Dylan easing off. He pulled a smile onto his face and changed the topic, hoping he had enough time. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
When he came back into the main room, Roger immediately looked for you, even as he was laughing at Mike’s stupid joke. Seeing you sitting with the other women was a relief. It was like Mike had said it would be, they’d all taken a shine to you and he could already see that he’d be constantly fielding questions about you from all of them. But then you looked up, and there was something in your expression that made his eyebrows furrow. He forced himself to look away as he announced dessert.  “Ooo brownie? Yes please,” Daisy sounded so excited by the prospect Roger couldn’t help but laugh.  “It’s just a packet mix, don’t get too excited.”   But Daisy hurried towards the patio all the same, closely followed by Jo and then Tina who grabbed Mike as she went, perhaps sensing Roger’s desire for a private word.   It was hard for Roger not to be concerned when you rose slower than the others and reached him after they’d all disappeared. He felt as if you’d have walked right past him if he’d not caught your arm. You seemed almost surprised to see him.  “Hey, how are you going? He asked softly, hoping he sounded normal, “Not too overwhelmed? I know they can be kind of loud but-” 
You moved quicker than Roger was prepared for and he staggered back a little as your lips met his, but nothing was as surprising as how purposeful the kiss felt. Your lips pressed hard to his, your arms wrapping around his neck and without thinking Roger tugged you in close, not sure what had brought on the sudden display of affection but not wanting to interrupt it either. He liked kissing you and it felt too nice to question it much. Thankfully you seemed to want the kiss to continue as much as he did, though that did mean the end of it was just as unexpected as the start.   “What - uh – what was that for?” Roger asked, trying to blink some sense back into his brain.  “For looking after me.”  It took a moment longer than it might have before you’d kissed him, but eventually the pieces all fell into place and he nodded his realisation, “I take it you heard about Daisy’s ex then?”  “Yeah, and some other stuff.”  Before Roger could even begin to wonder what the other stuff could be or to reassure at all, you continued.   “Sorry I’ve been so stubborn about things. I made it harder for you. But I think I understand now.”  “Understand what?”  “About why it’s not all about what Dylan wants.”   That was the last thing Roger had expected to hear and for a moment he considered whether you might have overheard his conversation with Mike. But he couldn’t deny that he was pleased with your admission, and he found himself smiling as he took you in again, “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. Do you want to talk about it later, after everyone goes?”  “Maybe.” 
He reached for your hand but thought better of it, switching instead to rubbing your arm in what he hoped was a comforting way. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel pushed into talking before you were ready and yet he was dying to know more. He wanted to send everyone else home right then so he could ask you about what made you understand. He wanted to kiss you again, kiss you a lot, too, just to show you how glad he was. And he wanted to tell you what hadn’t felt right to say the previous week. That he thinks about you too, much more often than he should. That he worries for you and wants to keep you safe. But it would have killed the mood during the last session, and it felt like too much to admit now. Too big of a conversation for right then. And besides, he’s not even sure how to say any of it properly. Mike had assumed jealousy and he doesn’t want you to think the same thing. So instead all he said was, “C’mon, you look like you need some sugar, let’s go eat dessert,” as he gently lead you outside.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
But he did get his chance later. Once again, you’ve surprised him. In a good way, of course. For someone who was so against sensory play to start you’d sure taken to it like a duck to water. He would have felt terrible if you’d found it boring or uninspiring. But instead he got to enjoy a fairly relaxed evening with you. And relaxing was what he needed after how tense he’d been throughout the munch. You needed it too, he decided. Not just because of how draining it was to meet new people and come to world shattering realisations, but also because he’d asked a lot of you over the past few weeks. You’d tried so many new things and been pulled out of your comfort zones. It felt right to offer you an intimate experience that was less intense than what you might have been expecting. He let you just enjoy the sensations and quietly process the day as he prattled on with all the stuff he’d planned for his lesson. And each time you squirmed or giggled when he painted somewhere ticklish, he felt especially pleased. Although, not quite as pleased as he felt when you asked if you could paint him. That was a good sign if ever he’d seen one. Not just that you were enjoying the moment, getting out of your head, but also that you could be interested in taking more control. Of course, wanting to paint on him was not the same as wanting to be dominant in a more explicitly kinky scene, but it was a step in that direction. He watched you closely as you painted his shoulder, wondering if he could ever interest you in testing the waters further. He could feel himself getting harder at the idea of you domming him and tried to focus on what he had to tell you about different paints. It was hard though when you were so close. He could feel your breath as you leaned in, focusing on getting the shape right, and you were so close. You’d been closer, of course, but not like this. It made him shiver as he supressed the urge to pull you into a kiss. And then you leaned back and he mentioned Margo and suddenly things had dissolved into something much sillier. He was nearly breathless from laughing but seeing his finger prints on your arse made him giggle again and something about it pleased him greatly. But then he looked down and saw his cock covered in blue, the paint more evenly distributed where your palm had been, thinner under your fingers. He swallowed hard when he realised he could see your fingerprints in the paint. 
After that things quieted down again. He liked watching you while you painted him, content not to say too much. There was nothing more he had to teach about sensation play, he’d given you all the important information. You were quiet too which was understandable. There was a lot to process from the munch and he supposed dwelling on it while mindlessly painting was as good a time as any. He was just glad to be with you, playing with paint, able to make sure you were okay. And then suddenly, apropos of nothing, you asked how he’d gotten into BDSM. It was a surprise but Roger was happy to answer and he liked that you’d asked the others too, that you’d been seeking out other perspectives. Without meaning to he started telling you about his father. It wasn’t something he’d intended to share, it wasn’t something he really talked about ever. But he wanted you to understand what an affect it had had on his approach to doming, especially now you seemed to have grasped what he’d been trying to teach you about submission and power.    “The line between kink and straight out violence can become very thin at times and there are a lot of people who don’t understand the difference, and some who do but ignore it anyway.” He wanted to tell you that maybe Dylan was one of those people, hopefully the first group more than the second. He wanted to let you know that thinking about what Dylan could do to you, what he fears he would do to you if given the chance, makes him more anxious and worried than anything else. But he didn't want to scare you. And he didn’t want you to think he’d overreacting because he doesn’t actually know Dylan at all. It’s all just assumptions based on what you’ve said. So he keeps that bit to himself, hoping that telling you what he has is enough to keep you mindful about who you engage in kink with.  
Quiet falls again but it’s comfortable, despite the heavy topic. Roger could say more but he gives you time to think about it, absorb it all. So it’s not until he takes the brush back that he asks his own question.   “Did you mean what you said in front of the mirror?”  It had just slipped out. He was going to ask what else you’d discussed at the munch, if there was anything else you wanted his perspective on. But the mirror scene was never far from the top of his thoughts at the moment and it had pushed through just as he opened his mouth.   You were clearly embarrassed to talk about it and Roger tried not to focus on how cute you were when he flustered you. He can feel your warmth when he rubs your thigh, trying to comfort you a little. He gets why you’re uncomfortable. He’s your professor, you’re his student. You’re not meant to think of each other in these ways. But he does. You’re bewitching, how could he not? And he thinks maybe if you know those thoughts you’ve been having are mutual, you won’t have as much reason to be embarrassed by them. So he admits the thing he’s not supposed to.   “I think about you too.”  This time you’re the one who looks surprised and Roger can’t help but feel a little pleased that he’s got you back, just a little, for how frequently you’ve surprised him of late. He wants to say more – that he doesn’t just think of you, that he dreams of you. That after you leave he’ll spend the next night replaying the sex in his mind, jerking off thinking about you. That he spends longer than he should planning your lessons, longer than he spends on his real lessons sometimes. He always gets caught up imagining how you’ll react to things, how you’ll respond, hoping you’ll enjoy what he plans to do to you. He wants you to know that he loves teaching you this stuff, loves how you approach everything with curiosity. Loves....your enthusiasm. But he can’t admit that. You’ve already had to absorb so much today and it’s been such a nice evening. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. So he asks you more, just to keep himself from saying too much.  
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patchedrabbit · 1 year ago
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das Ende
Pairing: Gregor Samsa (Limbus Company)/Fixer!Reader Warnings: Emetophobia Commissioned by @wizardofwoof Previous | Next
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Gregor’s dreaming was always restless, troubled, agitated.
Usually plagued with nightmares, he thought he’d get used to it at some point. That point never came. In fact, it just made him more uneasy when his dreams weren’t horrific in nature.
Like this one. Too good to be true, the warmth holding him tightly and telling him everything he ever wanted to hear. How his work was finally done, how many people he saved and how he could rest. How he was loved, and how he could rest. To settle down with that Fixer from the Zwei, someplace far away from the City — such a place had to exist, didn’t it?
He doesn’t respond much in his dream, in the sense that he brought not much to the conversation. He did speak a lot, in quiet I love yous as he shivered in the embrace.
Dreams like that made him uneasy. But when he awoke, with everything ripped from him, he nearly ripped himself apart with it.
He lay in bed for a while, not doing anything, slowly catching his breath. Eventually, slowly, he forced himself from the not-comforting-enough sheets and trailed along the walls of Mephistopheles to meet up with the other Sinners.
“Vergil~ Ver… c’mon, don’t you think you owe us a little stop?”
Red pierced the dull light filtering through the bus windows, causing Gregor to squint and grumble under his breath. Rodion causing problems already? “I’m not sure what makes you think I owe you anything. Need I remind you that you work for the Company? You take on whatever I tell you to, with no complaints.” The manager’s ticking sped up as Dante tried to calm their boss. The Color placed a hand on their shoulder as he stepped away, instead opting to converse with Charon (but not before ordering them to get their Sinners under control with a huff.)
<Where exactly are you wanting to go anyway, Rodion?>
“Any number of places… ah, what were they… South Section 1? …3? 6?” “EAT,” Ryoshu spoke pointedly, once again not being clear with her intentions, despite how confident she sounded. And, as he usually does, Sinclair was the one to pipe up to elaborate on her odd acronyms. “I… think that means ‘Everything Already Told.’ Something like all of the above, right?” As if affirming Sinclair’s assumption, Ryoshu flicked her cigarette out the window and turned to face the group. “The areas listed belong to that of the Zwei Association,” she explained with a smirk, “the last group of Fixers we worked with.” With a nod, Dante turned their attention to Rodion again. <What do you want with them?>
Rodion glanced at Gregor from the corner of her eye, and instantly he felt hot. She wasn’t trying to set him up, was she? “I’m pretty sure one of them pocketed my chicken voucher off me… you don’t want to start paying for my meals now, do you? We’ll be in and out, I promise!”
What a load of shit, Gregor held back the spiteful phrase as he bit his lip and waited in his seat. It took quite a bit of asking from Dante (and quite a bit of translating from Faust), but eventually, Vergilius gave in on the pretense that he really didn’t want to spend more money than he had to on the Sinners — and, they argued, their money was his money. So they were going to find the Zwei Association, wherever they were.
The first stop was the 3rd South Section. Or was the ‘3’ part of the title, and not a method of categorizing? Such useless questions bounced around inside Gregor’s head, distracting him from the growing pit in his stomach that Rodion was slowly digging deeper. “You owe me for this.” “No, I don’t… I didn’t ask for it either.” “But you know it’s for the best, don’t you?” “...I didn’t say that.” Despite averting his gaze, he can still hear the woman stifle a chuckle, informing him that he was still as poor an actor as he ever was.
When Dante came to a stop and Faust began speaking in their place, it was clear to the rest of the Sinners that there was some sort of negotiation taking place. Rodion even sneaked to their sides to continue spreading her web of lies, leaving her friend to hope she wouldn’t cause more trouble.
Though, if she had gone through that much trouble, he should at least follow through on what he had said that night. Slipping past the crowds and into the office, he squinted his eyes as he searched and even began calling out one name in particular. Eventually, he saw a hand raised, and before it had even dawned on him, he was rushing to the spot with his heart pounding in his ears.
You had returned only moments ago from an individual mission, unloading your weapons and other necessities from your aching back. You laugh, amused at seeing the same brunet consecutively every other week, but you didn’t mind. The first meeting was a welcome one, after all, and your feelings remained genuine.
“I- I need… to tell you something,” he spoke through labored breaths, clearly having sprinted to your spot. “Shoot!” “Uh… I don’t think- not here, is there any chance I can pull you away for a minute?” The interaction seemed increasingly awkward, which only made you feel more worried about him. What could possibly have gotten him so riled up? How naive you must be.
Regardless, you agree, and just barely mention to get away from the eyes of the Company and the Association managers. You can’t tell if he’s averting his eyes due to the lowering sun, the light dancing on his face, though the words heavy on his tongue are all too obvious to himself.
“I love you,” Gregor says.
“Huh?” “The mission, the other day… I said ‘I love you.’ You didn’t hear me.” Your eyes widen as you’re shot with an almost cartoonish flashback. “Oh… oh, hah. Haha. You see, what’s funny is I did hear that, but I thought I made it up…” The soldier’s shoulders slumped, seeming to take the response as a negative. “Me too,” you add. It was his turn to respond, “Huh,” with the most dumbfounded look.
“I guess ‘I love you too’ would’ve worked better- sorry for the confusion!” He continues staring at you, not really registering the phrase. You grab the insectoid arm again, appreciating the texture once more.
Wordlessly, he grabs onto your other hand and just stares into the interlocking of your fingers.
“This’ll be convoluted, won’t it… promise you’ll visit more?” You question with a tilt of your head.
“Promise.” He opens his mouth again to add more but suddenly jerks free from your grasp as a round-up is called, causing his hair to frizz up. “Guess Rodion’s problem was solved…” “See you, Gregor Samsa.”
The look he gives you has the innocence of a newly formed butterfly.
“See you.”
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musekicker · 1 day ago
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Had this Guy/Floyd sort of fic in my wip files for awhile.
In any case, Tiny finds out Guy and Floyd are dating. Tiny has questions for Floyd...
There was the tiniest knock that Floyd had ever heard at the door. A surprise as Floyd was not expecting any guests right now. But even more surprising was the troll at his doorstep once he opened the door.
"Oh! Tiny?" Floyd said. "How can I help you?"
Tiny did not bother with any pleasantries. He opted to cut right to the chase.
"You want to date my dad." Tiny Diamond said.
That was not so much a question so much as a statement. A statement delivered in a way that it did not sound like Tiny was very pleased.
"I mean yes.. I'm guessing your dad talked about this with you?" Floyd asked.
"Yeah, dad talked about it with me. But I didn't talk about it with YOU."
Floyd couldn't rightly blame the tiny troll for being a bit upset. Another important person in his dad's life that Tiny didn't really know. It would be a change.
"Me and your dad were talking about having a conversation with you together. I can get your dad and we can talk-" Floyd said.
Tiny shoved a small scrapbook into Floyd's hands. At first Floyd was not entirely sure what he was looking at until Tiny spoke up.
"If you really want to date my dad you'll have to answer all these questions."
Floyd opened the scrap book to see more a block of text rather then the normal things one would see in a scrapbook. Though there was a small drawing of Tiny's face in the corner of the first page, a bunch of question marks drawn around him. The text dominated the book though.
There were questions. So many of them. And there were more pages.
Floyd could had easily told Tiny that he would answer all the questions he had later when he and Guy had their conversation with Tiny. But then, Floyd thought about it. Tiny would most likely appreciate it Floyd took this scrapbook of questions seriously.
"Okay. Let's do this." Floyd said.
Tiny nodded.
"Good."
The questions were many but not that bad. Some of the questions were simple. Name, hobbies, favorite foods. All things that were easy to answer. The fact though that Tiny was noting all the answers on some paper was just a bit intimating.
Then came the word problem questions. Longer questions that were more involved and required a lot more thought. The intensity in Tiny's questioning grew as well.
"If there was a run away cart full of glitter careening towards my dad, how would you save him from being run over by it?" Tiny asked.
That was a slightly more involved question. Not a yes or no or simple answers, questions anymore. Floyd must had been startled into silence for too long as Tiny spoke up.
"Answer the question." Tiny said.
The tone was a more serious one now. And Floyd sensed that if he answered this wrong that there would be some form of suffering. And Tiny did not look as if he would wait much longer for a answer.
He was about to answer Tiny, but Floyd was saved from having to answer the question when Guy showed up. Guy's casual walk had turned into a mildly concerned jog when he saw the expression on Tiny's face and the clipboard.
"There you are, Tiny! What are you up to?" Guy asked.
Tiny looked up at his father, the serious look that been on his face switching to more of a pleased look, smile included.
"Oh hey dad. I'm only asking Floyd some very important questions. If you could come back later-" Tiny said.
Guy glanced quickly at Floyd who did not look exactly unhappy. But for sure not at complete ease. Guy knew he had to check in.
"Why don't you give us a moment, son." Guy said.
Tiny crossed his arms.
"Don't think you can distract me from this very important questioning." Tiny said.
Guy actually could distract Tiny from this questioning endeavor with one sentence.
"Aunt Poppy has ice cream." Guy said.
"Ooo! Ice cream!" Tiny dropped the paper and crayon and ran off in the direction he presumed that Poppy was.
Guy waited until his son was out of sight before turning to Floyd.
"Sorry about that." Guy said. "He talked abut asking you some questions but I didn't think he was going to try and interrogate you."
Floyd couldn't help but laugh a bit at that description of the questions.
"It did feel a bit like a interrogation. But it didn't feel like a bad thing to answer a few questions." Floyd said.
Guy picked up the dropped paper and his eyebrows went up the number of questions.
"Some questions?" Guy said. "That's so many! How long have you been answering these?"
Floyd thought a moment.
"At least a half hour." he said.
Guy blinked a few times.
"How... how did he even come up with that many questions?" Guy asked.
Floyd chuckled.
"There are a lot of repeated questions in different wording. He's keeping me on my toes." Floyd said.
Guy couldn't help but chuckle as well moment before there was a soft smile on his face.
"Thank you. Really." Guy said.
"It's a big change for him. I wanted to take him seriously." Floyd said.
Now half way through searching for Poppy it had occurred to Tiny that he had been tricked. He had came to a sudden stop when realized it.
"Oh, that was LOW!" Tiny cried.
Then Tiny turned right around to go and give his dad a piece of his mind.
Guy and Floyd were right where Tiny had left them. Still talking. Talking about him he realized.
"I think we should do something that Tiny would love." Guy said.
Floyd nodded in agreement. He thought a moment before a idea came to mind.
"I know he likes to write his own music." Floyd said. "Maybe a write your own song performance night thing? I know Poppy would help us set that up."
"That's perfect! Tiny would love that!" Guy said.
Tiny stood still and quiet through this conversation he was over hearing. A conversation that made Tiny realize a few things.
First off was how happy his dad looked. Floyd looked just as happy to be talking to his dad. They really did care for each other. And apparently for him as well. The fact that Floyd remembered something Tiny liked to do..
Crud. He was going to have to be mature here wasn't he?
"Ahem."
Guy and Floyd peered down and saw Tiny Diamond standing at their feet.
"Oh! Son, did you um.. find the ice cream-" Guy said.
"Not yet." Tiny lied. "But I will. But first I just came back to let Floyd know that I guess that you passed the quiz." Tiny Diamond said.
This was a surprise to the two adult trolls. Though they tried not to show up. They were not surprised however when Tiny added in.
"But just know... I'm watching you."
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sidmjkgc · 1 year ago
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I made a new blog from scratch just to see how it is for new users, and frankly it's awful.
You have to register, choose an url, put your birthday, whatever. This is normal stuff.
I've been a tumblr user for a decade now. In all truth, I had a blog before that, when tumblr was just aesthetic pictures with weird phrases in cute fonts. Then I deleted it at some point and came back to make this new one and for fandom stuff.
I know how tumblr works, I know how to navigate it, how to change the settings and all of that. It's not very user friendly though: it's not highlighted, you have to click on the settings and then on your own blog and then customize it. Not that big of a deal, but I understand why so many new people don't change it.
When you make an account, the first thing you have to do is to choose your url, then put an email address and birthday, and then you have to choose five topics (tags) you want to follow and at least three blogs you want to follow. I'm so sorry for the random people I had to follow and then unfollow, it's also probably why bots find you.
The worst thing, though, is that your dashboard is the for you page.
This is my normal dash:
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This is the dash on the new blog:
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I have to manually click every time on "following" to see the people I follow, or else it's gonna be random posts form various tags I had to follow (and then unfollow) and not in chronological order.
And yes, I changed the settings multiple times: based on your likes, best stuff first, stuff in your orbit and followed tags are ALL turned off, and I have already log out and log back in multiple times to see if something changes. The answer is no: the for you page is the first one you get.
And while I'm not a gif maker so I have no opinion about it, on my own blog I can still opt out the legacy editor when creating a new post, while on the new blog that's the only option and you get nothing else.
The new changes they wanna make are in line of what they have been doing for the new user's experience. And it sucks.
I also have no idea what the fuck is this thing that appears on some posts at random but only on my new tumblr:
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I think it's a sort of "look at the new note on this popular post" or something, and you can click on it to see it. It only appears when I am in the for you page and on posts with more than 1k notes. And it's also randomized, and not the last comment/tag on that post. It's a bit distracting to be honest, but not the worst.
End note, because staff just updated The Post. Customize your experience if you've been on tumblr for a while. If you're new, you're fucked.
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sunkingwrites · 11 months ago
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Dragging yourself to the clinic for another muscle remedy
gn reader but let's be honest, it's just me × Harvey from Stardew
☆~ suggestive ~☆
"You look like sh-" Harvey's gaze slides from you to the older woman waiting for her prescription.
Evelyn greets you with a genuine smile, cloaking her eyes with wrinkles. "Hello dearie." You can't help but return her sincerity, opting to move your attention from the doctor, "How is George doing?"
"Oh, you know, always in front of that screen he likes. He didn't want to come with me today so young Harvey here came to fetch me from home-" She shoots you an exaggerated wink, "If I'm lucky he'll walk me back too."
"Really?" You look back in Harvey's direction where he's decided the most interesting thing in the room is his cuticles.
Before you can tease him, Maru opens the door to the waiting room. Pills clinking in plastic seems to catch Harvey's attention as Maru slides him an official paper to sign.
You pay no mind to it, it's not for you- instead you catch Harvey's eyes wandering to where Maru is now bending over to talk with Evelyn. Your fingers tap the polished front counter purposely and his attention jolts back to you, your face, the bags under your eyes, and the twitch at the corner of your mouth.
"Sorry sorry, you wanted a muscle remedy?" His eyes wander from your face to your hands, all over you, then with great effort it seems, he drags his gaze back to your eyes.
You catch his freckled hands twitch across the counter, you want to hold them, to kiss those fingers and tell him to keep looking. Instead you huff, eyebrows raising with a slight concern for your own appearance. "Was it that obvious?" You swipe at your eyes, rubbing your face and holding back a groan.
"How long were you out last night?" He's already fiddling with a cabinet on the far wall, getting the right bottle. This is muscle memory to him by now, in fact, he should have had the bottle on the counter by the time you had reached it, but he'd been distracted.
"Late." The one word has his hands twitching again, just slightly. You pull your mind back from the places it oh so desperately wants to travel. Evelyn is here, and with it being a Thursday, so is Maru.
"You really should be more careful, there aren't many who could bring you up if you passed out down in the mines."
"Are you saying I'm too heavy, Harvey?"
That makes his eyes widen. He sets the bottle firmly on the counter and holds both his hands out. "No, that's not- I meant to say that you're brave, not many people would risk going down there... You're strong"
His breathing has picked up, he's been helping you notice these slight changes. You haven't told him yet that you've been using this newfound information to tease him.
"I'm just joking with you, Harv, c'mon." You grab the bottle of muscle remedy, and your fingers brush his hand. It really sets him off. Stuttering, red-faced, the whole thing- he clearly can't take a joke today. Maybe it has to do with Maru being around.
"Aren't you going to offer to walk Evelyn home, like a good doctor?" The statement does nothing to calm his nerves, but it does give him a task.
He steps behind the door leading into the back and in a few moments, he's reappearing from the waiting room door, wearing a jacket. His face is considerably more rosy than red and his hands are no longer shaking; he must have done some breathing exercises.
"Missus Mullner, if everything is sorted, would you like me to walk you home?"
His voice is sweet, and sincerely so- for a moment it brings you back to how he sounds with your lips against his. Honey coated, bordering on sickly with how sweet he is, how gentle he tries so hard to be.
You love to make him lose himself, forgo the gentle sweetness for a more potent desire, bordering on obsession - and with him, it's so easy, "like flicking on a switch" you've told him, only for him to cower behind his hands.
"Thank you for the offer, doctor, I think I'll be taking you up on it." Maru helps Evelyn to her feet and Harvey offers his arm for her to hold. Evelyn gladly takes his arm with a giggle that reminds everyone in the clinic this woman used to be a giddy young girl.
You wave goodbye to Maru and hold the clinic door open for the pair, when you catch Harvey staring at his hands again, only for a second.
"It was nice seeing you dear," Evelyn's warm smile is contagious as you smile back, before adding to Harvey as the pair walks away- "Nice nails, doctor!"
You don't catch what Evelyn is saying to him as they walk in the opposite direction from your house.
What you do catch is the clenching of Harvey's fist at his free side. You allow yourself to remember the sting of his nails desperately clawing at your back as he yields beneath you.
The bottle of muscle remedy is opened and drained before you even catch a glimpse of your house.
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herleaf · 4 months ago
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mundane clara headcanons * RE: Baldur's Gate 3 and gaming in general
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clara is absolutely a gamer in her spare time (either when she is not with the doctor, there is a school break, she is with the maitland's and angie and artie want her to play with them, or she just needs time to just blow off steam).
while she started off playing fps games, she kept hearing the doctor's chagrin against guns and violence in the back of her mind so she opted into playing cozier games (ie. wylde flowers or stardew valley) and she honestly finds the idea of trying to plan a farm while romancing people to be a fun and strategic activity
absolutely plans her farms on a website that helps map out stardew valley farms. oh, is that a spreadsheet you see pulled up on a tablet near her while she's playing? yes, because she is calculating what she needs to do to have specific money by the end of the first season because pelican town hasn't seen anyone like farmer clorbus on timey-wimey farm. no walkthroughs, this is a cozy game of skill and trial and error. she absolutely slammed her laptop shut when she gave penny a hated gift by mistake and she writes down everything. clorbus is nothing if not a learner, not making a bad mistake twice.
absolutely looks to see if anyone made a mod for stardew valley that resembles a blue phone box that people all over forums and reddits online have argued about being a time machine or some sort of government distraction from what's really going on. because like real life, there is too much to do in one day and if she gets her cave carrots and gems stolen one more time because she missed the end of day by a single second she will back joja mart to spite them.
dates as many of the bachelors and bachelorettes as she could in stardew valley (she absolutely gets the bad confrontation scene once and that is the only time she looks up a how-to online and reloads and finds a rabbit's foot that she now carries with her always.) she is scared to settle down with any one villager because that would force them to stop having their own personality and would stay on the farm and not be helpful (though she does woo and settle down with wesley IMMEDIATELY in wylde flowers because he is obviously not a mere mortal--spoilers--and regrets NOTHING)
absolutely names most of her animals after the doctor and silly nicknames from their past regenerations
DISCOVERS BALDUR'S GATE 3 and immediately hyperfocuses on these silly little 3D characters
can't decide if she wants to BE shadowheart or lae'zel or BE WITH shadowheart and/or lae'zel
gale reminds her of the doctor with his longwinded narratives and stories of his travels and also, like gale, the doctor feels like he would be the type to have a longwinded and complicated multi-step process to bring them back to life if they are killed before meeting a very old man with a long beard who has a pension for smelly cheeses and wine
absolutely begins quoting tav in her travels with the doctor.
"i've got a lot on my mind... and, well, in it." clara there are cybermen around this isn't the time for jokes
will try explaining every character to the doctor
what do you mean he goes by the blade of frontiers? what frontiers has be conquered? if he loses his blade would he just be called of the frontiers? doctor it is not that serious. he trusted a devil to continue on with a deal? doctor he did it to save thousands, your jealousy is showing
has a soft spot in her heart for wyll ravengard (and like danny pink, wyll deserves more content AND DESERVES BETTER)
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