#so i decided to write down like to sentences so i don't forget it and here we are 900 words later

[lowkeyremi]

jjk men and aftercare ft. Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Toji, and Geto.

a/n: I saw something like this awhile ago and forgot to write abt it but here I am now babyyyy (there is already a part 2 in progress bc i wanna do 10 characters lmaoo) also not proofread bc im tired :P

cw: really suggestive, established relationships, how they are after sex basically :)

Gojo Satoru

When you two first started hitting third base Gojo was all about himself and about how he felt. When you had cleaned yourself up and prepared for bed that night Satoru finally realized something was wrong.

"What's wrong, babe? I thought you liked it??" He asks, worried about his performance in bed. Your silence prompts him to try and figure out what he had done wrong, and honestly he couldn't even think of anything.

"Pleaseeee tell me. I won't know if you don't say anything." Those invasive thoughts that tell you, "you don't matter to him." start to attack your brain once again. He's way out of your league you start to think.

"Aftercare. You didn't even offer to help me clean up, Satoru." Saying it out loud makes you sound kind of petty in your opinion but it does matter.

"OH. Shit baby I'm so so so so sorry!!!!! I- It's just-" He cuts himself off and tries to reword his sentence, "Well, back then I.. I was sleeping around so my pleasure was the only thing that mattered to me. It's different.. you know? Dating. I'm still working out everything. I won't forget next time I promise."

He'd been telling the truth because from then on he always went all out with aftercare. He would run you a bath with your favorite salts and oils, he'd make you your favorite snacks, he'd even cuddle you afterwards until you fell asleep. (rich boyfriend privileges)

Choso Kamo

He'd been waiting so long to finally sleep with you for the first time so he had done all his research prior to the day. He was looking at your dilated pupils, messy hair, and the cum that sat on your stomach.

"Okay so, according to the article I read, I should run you a hot bath, yeah?" He asks nervously.

A small smile braces your lips. In all honesty you probably should have expected this much from Choso. He wants to make sure everything is perfect.

"You looked up aftercare???" You sit up on the bed and a back cramp decides to hit right then and there. As soon as he hears your groan he sprints the the kitchen, only to return with a heat pad.

"Heat pad for cramps?" He's truly nervous, and eager to please you, the love of his life.

"Thank you, Cho. I'll take you up on that bath."

"Of course, I'll get in with you if that's okay." The smile on your face is enough of an answer.

Nanami Kento

YOU ARE WINNING!!!!

Massages, baths, homemade snacks, you name and he'll do it for you. In his mind it's the least he can do for you, because you treat him so well and give him that pretty pussy he loves so much.

"Right here?" He's currently working those skilled fingers into your tight muscles after bending you every which way.

"Ohhh... yes right there, baby. Hurts so muchhhh." You whine and moan at the same time. At this point you two have already bathed and he's made sure to moisturize your body leaving you clean and refreshed.

He seemed to notice the way you limped and asked if you need anything. The sex was good really, but you didn't want to tell him that folding you in half wasn't the best idea. Oh, but he's persistent would not leave you alone until you told him what was wrong.

Once you told him he had immediately sat you down, picked up your favorite lotion and started to work out the kinks in your body.

"I'm so sorry, again." He mumbles quietly.

"Stop apologizing, Kento. These things happen. At least I know to stretch before hand next time." His face softens at your giggles and he presses a small kiss to your thigh.

"Oh do not get me started." A smile creeps up his face, while blush slowly spreads across yours.

Toji Fushiguro

BOOOOOO no aftercare. well maybe not much at least.

Has not properly cared for a woman since his late wife but he realizes if he wants you to stay he'll have to fix that.

At first he would throw a wet rag at you and give a simple, "here clean up." When he got out the shower he was genuinely confused why you were no longer at his apartment.

As soon as you picked up he could tell you were pissed, "What do you want, Fushiguro."

He's a little shocked, did not expect that from you, "I'm your boyfriend so it's Toji and not Fushiguro. The hell is your problem??"

The silence is so loud. For a second he thought you'd hung up on him. "Hello??"

"I'm giving you some time to think about that dumbass question and figure out why I'm mad at you." He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes too. He's lucky you can't see it.

"Ugh, I don't have time to play the damn guessing game. You're always mad about the little things.. what is it?" He's running through anything he could have possibly done wrong recently.

"Toji, you threw a fucking wet washcloth at me and told me to clean myself up. I'm your girlfriend, not one of your one night stands!" There it is, and the bad part is he doesn't even see what's wrong with that. (at first)

"I don't even give them something to clean up with, I just leave. But damn if you want me to get all fancy and shit I'll try." He scratches his head and begins to wonder why women are so hard to please.

Let me tell you he's no Nanami, but it's getting better. Still falls asleep afterward most times tho :/

Geto Suguru

You do it yourself for the most part, and here's why.

He's over here washing you up in the tub and he can't stop staring at your soapy titties and it just leads to more sex.

It's never just aftercare with him. He's always chasing more. Like that time you asked him to massage your legs after you two had finished fucking in the tub.

"Yeah shit why not? Lotion or oil??" He asks looking through your products.

"Uhhh lotion's fine." You'd grabbed your phone to see if your mother left you a voicemail which she did. She talked about how you need to pick up the phone or at least text her your alive if you're not gonna pick up. You were NOT going to pick up earlier though. Suguru likes to tease and you learned that the hard way when he was eating you out while you were discussing group bonding dinner ideas with your boss over the phone.

Anyway, he made his way to the bed with your lotion and all things went to hell. It was slow at first, nothing too sensual, then of course he had to slip a finger in your pussy and you sat there and stared.

"We are not doing this, we just got out of the bath." You were so serious, but so was he. (you were also aroused so)

"Another bath never hurt anybody, 'fraid of a little water baby??"

(such an annoying whore)

[madschiavelique]

Hello! I saw your rules so I decided to I guess rerequest in the way you asked. I was wondering if you could write about a female reader coming in one day with a sundress and Miguel just goes absolutely feral. He’s just trying to keep it professionally but ends up failing and just going ham on the reader

OMG anon i'm kissing your brain hehehehe (summer is killing us all besties : please don't forget to hydrate yourself <3)

summary : miguel sees you in a sundress

content warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, fingering, biting and marking, this man is so in love with you, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, praise word count : 1,6k

Summer had arrived, and as in most dimensions, except for the apocalyptic two or three where everything was frozen or the weather had simply declined with little chance of a return, it was hot.

And although the air-conditioning was in every room and corridor of the spider society, that in no way prevented members from dressing a little more lightly, although some might find this a sign of a lack of professionalism, one in particular, needless to mention, whose name began with Mi and ended with Guel.

Today was a fairly hot day, and all the spiders were practically fighting for ice cubes, a spot of coolness that would bring them comfort. Many of them were dressed in shorts, a variety of shirts, t-shirts, skirts and even tank tops.

So you seized the opportunity and put on a summer dress. It was charming, in your favourite colour, not too long and not too short, stopping just above the knees, with a beautifully plunging neckline to show off your curves. It was light, incredibly comfortable to wear, and needless to say that in spider society, it was a change to see you like this.

Like most of the members, people were used to seeing you in your suit, or in civilian clothes that could be considered professional. But this dress? It was a little ray of freshness.

Miguel was chatting in the cafeteria with Jessica and Peter, all having a serious discussion that you were supposed to join. You entered the cafeteria, looking around for them.

"Oh, hey over here!" called Peter to you with a smile, "Oh. My. God. What's the occasion for you dressing like that?"

Miguel, who until now had been stubbornly focused on getting Peter to stand still for this meeting, huffed before turning his head and...

He became static, his breath caught, his eyes wide open as he watched you come towards him. All the others were oysters, and you were a pearl: the best of them all, the most beautiful, the purest.

You offered a gentle smile as you came closer, and his lips parted slightly as the gesture gave him the warmth of thousands of sunbeams.

"It's true that you look ravishing, cutie," Jess admitted as you sat down next to Miguel, facing the other two on the opposite side of the table. "What's the occasion?" she repeated after Peter's question.

"Yeah," said Miguel, clearing his throat as he straightened up and pretended to keep a straight face, "what's the occasion?

You gave them all a small, smiling laugh.

"Nothing in particular, I'm just trying to beat the heat," you said as you took your seat, "why? I shouldn't have?" The possibility that your attire might pose a problem in maintaining the balance of the multiverse hadn't occurred to you.

"No!" The strength with which Miguel denied this surprised you all.

He swallowed, his sentence had come out a little stronger and a little more involved than he had intended.

"No," he pulled himself together as he took on his usual grumpy tone that everyone knew well, "although it's a lack of professionalism, we're not going so far as to prevent your freedom of clothing in the Society."

Well caught up, he thought as he brought his glass of water to his lips. Around the table, he was the only one wearing his suit. Because it was made of pixels and produced by a refined technological composite, he didn't suffer from the heat. Jess was wearing a t-shirt and cycling shorts, Peter a shirt and trousers, and you your summer dress.

Jess and Peter exchanged a quick glance, a mischievous smile stretching across their lips. Most of the elite and close teammates knew about your relationship with Miguel, and although he wasn't always the most public about your relationship, he cared about you immensely, and they both could only imagine the effect you were having on him.

"So, what did I miss?" you asked.

Jess started to explain the situation, but Miguel wasn't really listening. His eyes were obviously riveted on you, and even when he tried to refocus on the conversation, his thoughts and eyes were redirected in your direction as if magnetised.

You were... radiant, beautiful, and... for a moment his eyes went down to the bench you were sharing: the skirt part of your dress was slightly pleated, exposing the skin of your slightly spread thighs, sinking into the space where your cunt was.

He suddenly had the urge to slide his hand over your soft skin, to press it between his fingers and see the bounce of it brimming over under the grip of his hand.

And your cleavage was showing your bare skin, and he wanted to kiss your neck, to nibble your collarbone as he kissed down to the hollow of your breasts...

Keeping his hands to himself was becoming complicated, every little movement you made, even if it was just to readjust your sleeve over your shoulder, was becoming intoxicating. How was it possible to become even hotter by wearing more clothes?

His professionalism really started to take a hit when your leg inadvertently brushed against his, a shiver running down his spine.

But he couldn't touch you here, there was no tablecloth at this cafeteria table that could conceal his desires.

How he longed to do it, even if it was just to touch your thigh with his fingers, to run his hands over your sublimely covered body and to-

"Miguel? Can you remind us about what the last reports stipulated considering the last anomaly?" asked Peter, bursting Miguel's thought bubble, "I can't remember it for the life of me, it must be the heat." he complained. "What do you guys say we postpone this meeting? I can't think straight no matter how many fresh cocktails i drink."

It was true that the glasses had accumulated on Peter's side. A sigh escaped Jessica's lips.

" I regret to say it, but I agree. We can't think properly with the temperature."

Tell me about it, thought Miguel. He didn't care about the temperature, the real distraction was you. He exchanged a glance with you, and you looked at him with a small smile, waiting for his answer.

"Good," he said, simply nodding. "I won't detain you, you can leave."

Peter let out a small chirp, he and Jess getting up from the table to leave. Once away, you turned to Miguel, tilting your head to the side in playful puzzlement.

"The great Miguel O'Hara closing a meeting like that? Summer really does have its magic."

If summer could let him see you every day in that outfit, he'd make sure it lasted forever. His eyes roamed your silhouette again, biting the inside of his cheek. His hand skimmed the side of your leg, hovering gently over it until he placed it on the inside of your thigh, pressing.

You breathed a small sigh of relief, his eyes returning to yours.

"I'm guessing you like the dress," you said more softly.

"Very," he replied simply.

His behaviour was becoming less and less... acceptable in public. So he took your hand and led you out of the cafeteria. Would he be able to wait until you returned to his quarters ? Probably not.

But he knew every nook and cranny of the building, it was his, so you passed down one corridor, then two, then three, until you came to an alleyway you'd never seen before, darkened by the lack of activity.

He glanced in each direction, then immediately came to press you against the first wall you came to, kissing you hungrily.

"That dress is going to be the death of me," he murmured as he came to kiss your cheek followed by your neck, his hands placed on your waist and thigh as he feasted on your skin.

His hand slid up your leg, gripping the warm skin of your thigh as you let out a moan. His fingers moved up your inner thigh almost hastily, unable to contain his need to touch you.

"You're so pretty," he breathed as he came back to kiss you, "all pretty for me, nena."

His fingers reached the fabric of your panties, your body arching. His fingers went under the elastic of the latter and down to your cunt.

"Tengo la novia más linda del mundo," he whispered, kissing the back of your neck, tracing the line of your pulse as he made circular movements around your clit. "Such a beautiful body," he inserted a finger inside you, making you whine softly, "such a beautiful voice," your wetness was starting to stick to his hand. "And it's all mine."

With his other hand, he shifted the short sleeve of your dress, exposing more of your shoulder and placing soft pecks on it. His lips caressed your skin, and his fangs grazed it as he added a second finger.

He was curving his fingers in a sublime way, the strokes combining perfectly with the undulations he was making and hitting the perfect spot.

He kissed the skin of your shoulder, sucking it until it left a bluish mark.

"All mine," he repeated in a murmur as he ran his tongue over the mark he'd just made.

Your moans multiplied, breath hitching, bringing you closer and closer to orgasm, the hot cloud in your lower belly and back spreading.

"Come nena, let me see your pretty face when you do," he said, kissing you a little before pulling back and watching you with his drunken eyes.

You came, your legs all wobbly as Miguel's hand came to rest on your back to keep you upright. He kissed your temple and forehead, calming you gently.

"You're a dream," he said, covering the mark he'd left on your skin with your sleeve as you trembled, only he was aware of the hold he had over you.

Needless to say, from that day on in the summer, the air-conditioning became suspiciously faulty, because he had every intention of seeing you wearing that dress again.

[dedalvs]

Hello there! I was wondering if you could possibly translate this quote: (I know it's a different fandom, but I was wondering if you could translate it anyways. I think it would be neat to see it in High Valyrian.)... "Not all who wander are lost."

So listen… I know this wasn't the intent, and I know that you're kind of standing in for tons of people from my past, but like… When people ask to have something translated, do they really not give any thought to the grammatical complexity of what they're asking for? And 100% this is not just you, but like… Embedded clauses, relative clauses, counterfactuals…

Something I didn't realize till I started creating languages for a living is translation is my least favorite part of language creation—and it's what I spend the most time doing.

Okay, so, "Not all who wander are lost". Good lord. First, there's "lost", which has a literal and metaphorical meaning in English. Absolutely no idea if this would translate in High Valyrian, and I'm pretty sure I don't have a word for "lost", and I don't even know how to go about creating one. Spanish perdido essentially comes from "wasted" or "squandered". We know where English "lost" came from. There actually is a word for "to lose" in HV, but it's to lose a battle. Doesn't make sense to use it here. So I'm going with something that kind of evokes that mists that surround destroyed Valyria and use the locative of "fog", so to be sambrarra "in the fog" means "to be lost".

I also don't (or didn't) have a word for "wander", but I made a derivation based on one of my favorite words, elēnagon, which means to oscillate or swerve. Jorelēnagon now means "to wander". Seems to fit.

And that was the easy part. A relative clause is something like "The dragon that I saw is big". "Whoever I saw is big" also features a kind of relative clause—an indefinite relative clause. These things are absolute murder to create. But no. It's not just that. It's a modified indefinite relative, because it's not "Whoever wanders is lost", it's "All who wander are lost". BUT IT'S NOT JUST THAT. It's negated on top of that. NE. GA. TED. And not just in the usual way: It's the Mothra fumbling quantifier that's negated. It's not whoever wanders. It's not all who wander. It's NOT ALL who wander. This is like my nightmare—being asked to translate something like this. This is giving me flashbacks to season 1 of House of the Dragon when they asked me to translated "Would that it were", as if that was some reasonable thing for a human being to say in any language ever.

Anyway, if you type "indefinite relative clause" into my High Valyrian grammar, you come up with nothing, because I always forget to write down how the hell I decided to do them. I think because I have both relative adjectives and pronouns that I can just use the damn pronouns by themselves. God. "Not all…" Are you kidding me?! You know High Valyrian has a whole collective number to handle "all", right? What, do I just negate that? Will the meaning be the same as a negated quantifier?! Like it's [[not all] who wander], right? And you can bracket like that because they're all separate words. But what if "all who" is one word? What then?! BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT IT IS!

(By the way I just added a sentence to my grammar that includes the phrase "indefinite relative clause" so I can search for it. It's not like this wasn't written up, but I honestly probably forgot what the term was when I wrote the section the first time and I never revisited it.)

Okay. I'm calm and cool. So. Returning to the translation. There are two types of relative pronouns: One that refers to people or things, and another that refers to concepts or ideas or places. We're talking about people here, so we need the first one. And we need it in the collective. That's lȳr. Leaving the negation aside, this can be translated fairly easily:

Jorelēnus lȳr sambrarra ilza.

Okay, that's "All who wander are lost". I chose the aorist subjunctive for the relative because it's like "anyone who may wander"; I think it makes sense. Lȳr is grammatically singular, so it triggers third person singular agreement in both verbs. Since we're using ilagon as a locative copula here, I think (think) the present tense makes the most sense. So that is "All who wander are lost".

Now how the flarking frump do you say "not all" when "all who" is lȳr?!

So since lȳr is a pronoun it can be modified with an adjective, which would like like this:

Jorelēnus dōre lȳr sambrarra ilza.

But the problem with that is I don't think it gives us the intended meaning. I think that means "None who wander are lost", and that's not what the intended meaning is at all. It is basically "Some people who wander are indeed lost—perhaps many of them—but some of those who are wandering are not, in fact, lost". This is also why you can't negate the matrix verb. That would mean "Anyone that might be wandering is not lost"—again, not the intended meaning. This is the crux of the whole translation: Negating the quantifier and not what the quantifier is modifying.

For that reason, the only thing I can think to do is to go to a much more prolix, and, frankly, un-Valyrian-like expression. This would mean taking the relative pronoun out of the collective, putting it back in the singular, adding in a quantifier, and negating it. That would be this:

Jorelēnus dōre tolvie lȳ sambrarra ilza.

Is that it? I honestly don't know. It is a translation; I'm not sure if it's the best translation. Another possibility is to re-translate it and say "A few who may wander are not lost". That would look like this:

Jorelēnusy lȳn sambrarra ilosy daor.

The pronoun is now in the paucal, which triggers plural agreement on both verbs. (And, by the way, thank goodness sambrarra is a noun phrase; it doesn't have to agree with anything!) And this is, basically, "A few who may wander are not lost".

I feel like the second translation is better maybe…? It feels more Valyrianesque. But I'm not 100% sure it conveys the same sense.

Anyway, I started translating this a little over two hours ago. That's what this takes. That's how long something this complex takes. Granted, it didn't have my full attention at all times, because I was watching Booksmart, but this was my second time watching it, so I didn't have to give the movie my undivided attention (though it had been a few years; there were bits I didn't remember). But yeah. Translation. My god. Like…why. Creating languages is fun. Translation is work. (And if it's not work, you're doing it wrong. Mic drop; soap box kicked.)

[danger-noodle-uwu]

Trigger warning [mentions of killing/arguments/death/break-ups/cheating/etc]

Satan

Wrath is vengeful, wrath is destruction however this never bothered you or got in the way of dating Satan, The Avatar of wrath himself.

But as one could say, the true nature of a being could never remain under the covers. There was vengeance peering above the surface, and destruction awaiting at an unknown's doors, you did not knew.

Satan had great many contacts and to keep that up, he need to do few favors but not every favor was not-so-bloody. And lost in such an expectations of others did he forget an important day like today.

As always the day started as chaos, which couldn't have been helped either way and the blond had grown sick of that, unknown to the cause of chaos and decided to act upon the list he had, completely overlooking your smile, or the stunning outfit complimenting your figure or the day itself.

Upon this ignorance of his, you really wished face-palm. His demeanor was rather annoying, which only fueled you more to smack him. Really hard.

Today was well-planned, at least that's what you thought before dragging him away from his target and scolding him for leaving you on your own in a place crawling with demons.

Satan being the literal embodiment of wrath yet also your lover said "Get off me. I have things to do. And stop being so damn clingy." "Hey, it's your fault for leaving me on my special day!plus, there's sooo many things I wanna do toda–"

"Please shut up for once in your goddamn life!!" His sharp scream cut you off as his eyes bore into yours; eyes full of hatred and disgust as if you were a wretched grotesque placed before him.

Those words accompanied by his harsh glares was enough to make your heart shatter and knifes to be jabbed in your chest while eyes stung with tears that you pathetically hid by averting them as you asked "what did I do wrong..?"

Who knew that one sentence was enough to make those unshed tears flow and litter your rosy cheeks that he'd usually squish and fawn over but alas, all that comforted you was his back.

"Your whole being is the most ugliest!" Lies. Lies. He knew his tongue spat venom at you with words that could never be true because you're his world but the blinding rage doesn't allow him to say so and thus instead, his hand runs through golden locks out of pure frustration as he finally turned to face you.

There was something terrifying about him that very moment which made you mumble out a small "...I'm sorry..." before running off; the sharp pain in your heart only grew with him staring at you like that. It was all just too much. His wrath was suffocating you but to ruin your birthday without even remembering it.

You did didn't care for how bad your muscles ached as you ran further away from him. All that you wanted is to be alone and cry your heart out in hopes that this agony would subside yet part of you hoped that he cared and would come after you or stop you. Which never happened.

Satan has always been so...uncooperative and complicated towards everyone that it almost made him unreachable at times especially when it comes to Lucifer however today, it became different.

His face was scrunched and tense as Lucifer advised him to give you space before talking things out and perhaps getting you a gift as well for both an apology and your birthday; his body pacing back and forth in his room reconsidering things he's spoke until now, not even bothered to consider this as a special day while his elder patiently waited for him to calm down. They both how much you mean to Satan despite him hurting you and making you feel unwanted.

And would anyone look at the avatar of wrath while he's on his knees; practically begging to set things write and for you to accept his apology. However much like always, you don't fail at surprising him when your lips clumsily crash against his.

That he moment he knew how truly beautiful you are in every sense. From physical appearance to your dream-like soul. Every inch was perfect.

Asmodeus

'Touchy and irresponsible as always' you sighed looking over and frowning at Asmodeus who was so clearly lost in the seemingly endless attention they give him as their hands roam his body while he's biting his lip. He was enjoying this, wasn't he?

The thought of him being touched by somebody else made your stomach churn and eyes sting with hurt and envy; he was the avatar of lust, true but couldn't he not do this on your birthday at least and pay attention to you.

You could bet as to how pathetic you were looking drinking demonus with tears in your eyes and surrounded by demons who could just swallow you whole without your lover even batting an eye. Afterall, he'd rather be someone's bed warmer than your boyfriend.

"Hey...are you okay?" Honestly, you didn't know this stranger's name or anything about him but he still had some concern for your well-being; way more than your beloved however made you self-conscious as how pathetic you may have appeared and let your emotions get the best of you in front of unknown people.

"Yea..." you replied flushed from embarrassment and the crimson liquid that rested in your glass. It was really humiliating and made you feel awfully shy at the same time.

"If you say so, but don't hesitate to tell me if there's anything bothering you or if—" He leans closer to whisper in your ear before continuing "—someone's bothering you..." His voice was authoritative yet gentle much akin to a soft breeze from the human world despite being a demon.

"Oh! And I'm Ethan..." a blush ghosted over his cheeks as he realized that he hadn't even introduced himself while you told him yours as he gave you his number offering to help you just in case.

Truth be told, you were smiling to yourself glancing on the tissue that he wrote his number on and the fact that he even wrote happy to help made you grin wider. It was such a sweet gesture.

However unknownst to you, Asmo seemed to have noticed the whole interaction and was fuming with envy; so jealous that he could put Levi to shame. His face burned with heat and beads of sweat rolled down. He hated how that putrid demon had the audacity to flirt and blush at you yet his anger only stirred further when you smiled at him.

The avatar of lust stormed over to you and dragging you out of the fall, harsh grip on your wrist that would probably leave a bruise and then slammed you against the cold wall in the alleyway.

"What are you—!!" You were muffled by his lips smashing against yours; hands roaming your body as desire burned in your veins. Lips synced and danced against each other into a steamy make-out session however he pulled away.

"Why were you flirting with that guy?! You know that demons can hurt you then why my darling must you do this?!" It was irritating as to how he interrogated you but didn't even consider his own actions and the way he neglected you.

Did he even remember your birthday..?

"You say this as if YOU weren't smothering some random people in front of your girlfriend on OUR date!!" And finally, he realized what he's been doing all day. He was avoiding and ignoring you, too busy and consumed by his own...thoughts while you constantly tried to spend quality time with him.

"Baby...I'm sorry..." He coos gently holding your face and cradling you as tears cascaded your face. You looked so miserable because him and he made an internal promise to treat you better and not neglect your emotions.

"Y-you even forgot my birthday..." you sobbed into his soft hands as his eyes widened before he kissed you again. This time much gently and lovingly; full of adoration and affection but desperate for you.

You knew he meant it but forgiving is easier said than done. Even if you would accept him, it'd much later as for now, you wanted him to show is emotions; his real self that was vulnerable and loving; one that was guilty of hurting you. One that loved you beyond his own sin.

You would be lying if you said your heart wasn't melting for him as his hand intertwined with yours while the other rested around your waist and blush littered his face; all for you.

All of him softened just for you; all those emotions showered upon you because all of his love was meant for you.

Beelzebub

Gluttony is like a venom that spreads in your body; turning one into a hungry beast ready to devour his prey and another into a starved being—but for somebody who personified the sin in itself would be beyond a monster or an other horrendous creature imaginable.

Thus, can you really blame Beelzebub for ingesting the whole food supply of house of lamentation alongside of some cutlery after a seemingly intense workout as well 7 hours of helping satan shift his books in order to clean the empty space.

He was salivating at the sight of everything before as his vision molded it into something edible...delicious and well; in front of him were you, standing there awkwardly as his eyes hovered over you however not in a lustful but more like a locking the meat of your bones manner.

"B-beel, you alright..?" His intense gaze made you feel uncomfortable as you shifted in your place yet he didn't blink once as if his hunger overtook him...making him forget who you were.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't move an inch without him lunging at you with those eyes full of hunger for anything to satiate the emptiness within his stomach including you. However, Luck was on your side since it was your own birthday as Asmodeus happened to pass by the scene hoisting his phone up taking selfish before rushing towards you.

"Darling, Beel, what are you guys... doing?" By the end of his question, he knew what was coming. He is well aquaintated with Beel's endless hunger that violently shook the atmosphere in the whole house.

As you stood unblinking staring back at the avatar of gluttony trembling with fear whilst his ragged breaths were heard in the silence of the hall. The very next second he pounced at you transforming into his demon form; claws beared as if he was readily about to rip your heart out.

Yet somehow you were alive; alive and thrown over like a sack of potatoes on Asmo's shoulder as he sprinted towards his room with an echoing sound of certain rumbling in the background that made shiver in dread.

"Honey, you're alright. You're safe, okay? Phew!" He collapsed next to you on the floor next to you after ensuring the door was properly locked, clearly out of breath while still attempting to comfort your troubled form.

Despite knowing he cannot control his hunger, you couldn't help but tighten your throat or fall victim to the ache plastered within your chest. He loves you, you know it but this...hurt more than expected.

The clutches of gluttony were like shackles that bound him and drove him to try to...the thought alone makes you want throw up or is it because his twin succeeded at a similar task.

"Hey...Mc, don't cry, darling. It'll all be okay, I promise! Forget everything it's your birthday, isn't it?" The blond cradled you in his arms trying to shush away your tears meanwhile you sobbed and cried; planned everything, got up early to bake for him and even got the tickets to a movie he was excited about.

"It's so unfair! So unfair, Asmo!!" Why did this have to happen when all you did was try your best? Why are you doomed to fail at every given task? Was this all your fault?

Such thoughts consumed you wholly as your sobs turned into more cries that dragged Asmo's poor heart along with it; it hurt him so much to see someone he considered family be hurt so much. To be broken that they're reduced to a teary mess on the floor.

In the hallway, Lucifer and Satan towered upon Beelzebub who finally calmed down, happily chomping the food he was given; almost uncaring of his twin that laid kissing the ground with a large bruise forming on his forehead.

"W-where *chomp* is cupcake?" He muttered with a mouthful, thinking you must be hungry and not even remembering what he did as he was a puppet under the control of his sin.

"In Asmodues's room..." Lucifer sighed while Satan raged at the sight of the havoc wrecked upon his book—cursed ones, collector's edition, etc. They were everywhere torn into half or bites into and discarded afterwards.

"They must be sobbing since you were ever so nice to them on their birthday!" Satan mocked knowing how badly his brother fucked up while the orange head gushed the memories right into his eyes. Each moment he made a decision worse than the other.

"Oh my poor Mc, sleep well..." you didn't realize how exhausted you were from the whole event that you passed out between Asmo's arms who later tucked you within the comforting confines of your own bed.

But peace never really lasted long as you woke up, only to be greeted by a decorated room, a cake with several other snacks littered on the table and Beelzebub by your side with apologetic eyes as a melody played accompanied by the voices belonging to the remaining brothers.

"I'm sorry, cupcake...I didn't mean to scare you or hurt you, I just don't know what's wrong with me but please forgive me...I love you..." His eyes bore guilt as he was reminded of an older time, an older mistake before his hands caged yours affectionately before kissing them lovingly.

The orange headed demon never wished to be more than your protector, that gives away his life to save yours but also a lover that wants to build a family with you; one that he loves dearer than himself.

Belphegor

Does fate really hate you? If not, why must it be you who suffers with people misunderstanding you or blaming you for actions not performed by you?

"Come on, it's not that bad...just a stupid nightmare!" You hopped onto your feet before changing into your outfit for the day; one that made you feel good about yourself unlike the haunting nightmares that weren't leaving you alone.

As you left your room trying your best to force a smile out, there was a voice that felt familiar as it belonged to a certain great demon who bestowed the wishes of having the best birthday.

"Happy birthday, h-human!" He spoke loudly as if reminding the others of the day despite the whole hall being empty. The gesture in itself was funny, his hand putting your head like a puppy except for the part he himself looked like one.

"Thanks, mammon." And there it was your signature smile that could possibly make anybody melt, though how could you believe it; a rose can never see its reflection.

Reaching the dining hall, the atmosphere felt tense as if everyone was on edge, all but one person. He was missing entirely. Belphegor wasn't there. Was he still asleep?

Before you could ask, Lucifer announced "Belphegor will not be joining us today." And continued to finish his breakfast with what seemed to be a bothered expression.

"Hey beel, what happened?" You couldn't help wonder what did your boyfriend did this time to piss of the eldest and if so, why wasn't satan assisting the crime. "Belphi, h-he said some really mean things..." beelzebub was feeling guilty fill up his stomach, his appetite dying or perhaps killed by someone else.

"Okay..." you knew that the orange headed demon was hiding something, swallowing his own words however why you just couldn't decipher. His voice was strained that it made you feel very uneasy about what really conspired when you were asleep.

"Levi, can you tell me what really happened? Please!!" You pleaded with puppy eyes as soon as the remaining brothers had dispersed from the dining hall; to avoid the extra ears and overly exaggerated explanations.

"Normie, first off promise me you won't tell anybody that i told you this!" He whisper-yelled as you nodded your head vigorously. "Okay--fine, so belphi woke up in a super sour mood and since lucifer decided to call him to the dining hall himself...he said a lot of mean things..."

Leviathan felt a bitter taste in his mouth knowing his next words would most likely ruin your birthday and put you into doubt of your own relationship and partner.

"He spoke a lot of nonsense about lucifer, you know normie...And he--um, he said you weren't that great and just kinda wasted his time w-which is like total bullshit, right? Like normie, you're like Henry 3.0, totally cool and awesome!" He tried his best to soothe the wound he had to give you in order for the truth to be told.

But there it was, a sound of your own heart being crushed and sensation of wet tears dripping down your cheeks. It hurt you so much to hear that your lover spoke of you behind your back that you couldn't take it anymore and sprinted all the way back to your room; leaving Leviathan to only his worry and concern in the dining hall.

Especially on your birthday, that in itself felt like a cheap move being played on you as you felt needles pricking through your chest, and it hurt so much. It felt like the nightmares were true when they played the same scenario where he used you; he used you like a pawn.

Meanwhile, in the twins' room, Belphegor laid in bed with a weird feeling filling him; one that felt so heavy that he couldn't sleep it off. But why? He just couldn't pinpoint.

"Belphi, have spoken with Mc yet? It's their birthday...you should really go to see them..." the avatar of gluttony had his head lowered as he pouted; visibly hungry but at a lack of food.

"WHAT!" "Yea its their birthday, belphi..?" Belphegor panicked for at least 5 minutes before gathering himself and rushing to the kitchen to make something--a cake, should it be okay but what if you're craving ramen instead..? Or something salty? SHIT

He's never been so frantic and panicked; he felt like a single mother raising 6 children...wait why does that sound familiar? ANYWAYS, no time for that.

It took about 2 hours for the whole thing to be prepared; while he had tasked satan to buy your favorite snacks. In the end, he was drenched in sweat from the whole last minute preparation that he did.

On the other hand, you were passed out on your bed; tears dried up on your face and slightly puffy lips and very gracelessly flopped onto your bed.

Belphegor's heart ached at the sight of you, he knew his words have been heard by someone who didn't deserve them. Who deserved love and not such cruel things.

"Love, wake up...c'mon its your birthday..." He voice was gentle as if a one wrong word could shatter you like glass and his hands caressed your cheeks; before kissing you passionately.

You rubbed your eyes as your boyfriend kissed your forehead and pulled you off of the bed. He was smothering you with kisses somewhat lazily; letting eachone feel feather like on your skin.

"Happy birthday my star, I'm sorry for what is said earlier...I promise you that I never meant any of it...I just--lost myself to anger, I'm sorry." He's efforts were visible in both his voice and your room; the blanket Fort certainly seemed impressive and most likely he had your favorite movie paused.

"It's not okay to speak such things about you're partner belphi on any day let alone their birthday. Yet I am much kinder than you think...I forgive you." You pouted with fake anger evident in your voice; playing pretend was fun as hr fell for your words in the beginning but definitely caught up in the end.

And as the day came to a close, you both were snuggled into each other's warmth and cuddling; the harsh words and hot tears forgotten or perhaps changed into smiles of contentment.

Afterall, belphegor was your dark sky and you were his star; without one the other would feel empty and out of place. He was the one who wanted to drown into the depths with you or burn with the passion he held for you...And both remain a pleasure to him...

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

A/n; I had no ideas for belphi and was abt to write he slept that it off like he was in a coma xD

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Anyways,

ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕪

[wheeboo]

i miss you, don't call me | lee seokmin

SYNOPSIS. in which a particular boy has been clouding your mind lately, and you decide to drink away the thought of him𑁋when that isn't the right choice. PAIRING. ex!lee seokmin x gn!reader GENRE. angst, hurt/comfort... but also not really WARNINGS. drinking, swearing WORD COUNT. 2.5k

notes: kinda inspired from the song "i miss you, don't call me" by alessia cara. just wanna say i am forever guilty and full of shame for writing angst for this man. it feels completely out of character to write angst for him 😭😭

You hate the taste of alcohol.

You hate the way it lingers a bitter aftertaste on your lips, the way it burns like a smoldering ember down your throat that refuses to be extinguished, the way it wraps its tendrils around your senses and makes the world spin so merry around you.

You hate the taste of alcohol, yet there's a certain fascination in the way it blurs the edges of reality and a strange comfort in its familiarity. You were never usually one to drink in general, but tonight was different, and you find yourself caught between the resistance and the surrender, tip-toeing on the edge of clarity and a spellbound haze.

This is supposed to make you forget. Forget the deadlines, the expectations, the responsibilities, the miniscule hole in your chest that you have been trying to close. This is supposed to propel you in the right direction𑁋at least, that's what you convinced yourself in the hours before you wounded up in the middle of your living room with a half-empty glass in your hand. It's midnight, or something, you don't know for sure, and you couldn't be bothered to even check anyway.

This is supposed to help you forget him. He did nothing wrong, or anything wrong for the matter. His smile was always so bright like the sun, so full of life. He's like a bruise that refuses to fade, yet merely painful to the touch. You take another sip, and the amber liquid seems to carry with it the warmth of his laughter. And when you close your eyes just for a few seconds, you swear you can feel the warmth of that figurative sun on your face. Or maybe it's the alcohol. Or both.

It's been almost a year since you let him go. The reasons were complicated𑁋or simply, you both were just different𑁋and the echoes of that choice still reverberate in the quiet corners of your heart. You were convinced it was for the best for both of you, and all it took was two sentences for that line to be cut right on the same couch that you sat on.

And yet, the ache of his absence persists, leaving a void in your chest that you couldn't stitch up yourself.

Does he... still think about you from time to time?

It's a question you've asked yourself in the quiet moments before sleep. You wonder if he ever glances at the same moon that hangs in the night sky and thinks of the moments you shared under its wake.

You try to bury the thought away under the weight of another sip, but it resurfaces like an insistent tide as you let out a heated hiss to its taste. The room around you sways slightly, your head is starting to pound, and your thoughts are restless with nothing but just him.

The screen to your phone lights up on the coffee table, and you glance down at it, suddenly contemplating the idea of reaching out to him. Maybe it's the alcohol whispering in your ear, urging you to seek closure, or perhaps, rekindle a flame that was never truly extinguished.

The unanswered question lingers like a spectre in the room. Does he still think about you? The question gnaws angrily at your skin, and you find yourself reaching for the phone almost instinctively, as if drawn by a sudden invisible force.

With a deep breath, you unlock your phone. His contact is still there, his slightly blurry name staring right back at you like an open invitation. You tap a few times before landing on his number, and with a mixture of intoxication and courage, you press the call button.

The phone rings, each tone amplifying the drumming in your head. Your heartbeat quickens with each ring, the sound of it echoing in your ears. The haze in your mind seems to intensify, and you realise you might be crossing a line, but it's too late to turn back now.

The seconds tick away, and just as you begin to think about hanging up, he answers.

"Hello?"

His voice reaches through the phone and into your clouded consciousness. For a moment, you freeze, caught between the impulse to speak and the weight of the drunken-induced courage that made you make this call.

"Hey, Seokmin." Your voice comes out smaller and weaker than you anticipated.

A beat of silence follows your words. The weight of his name hangs in the air. You can almost sense Seokmin trying to process the unexpected call.

"Y/N?" His voice carries a mix of surprise and concern. "Is that really you?"

"Yeah," You reply, your words sounding less sure than you intended. "It's me."

There's another pause, and you can almost feel the distance between you two through the phone.

Then his voice comes through again, gentle and cautious, "Is everything okay?"

"Um..." You croak out, your thoughts stumbling over the words. "I just... I just needed to hear your voice."

Another pause. The only thing you could hear is the faint static on the other line.

"My voi𑁋Wait, are... are you drunk?"

A nervous laugh escapes your lips. "Uh, maybe a little," You admit embarrassingly.

Seokmin lets out a soft sigh on the other end of the line. You can't tell if it's from relief, concern, or disappointment, but the weight of it presses against your chest. It's almost suffocating.

"I just..." You start, the words hanging in the air. "is it bad to... to say that I miss you?"

The silence that follows is almost deafening. You can nearly imagine his face on the other end𑁋the ever expressive sunshine Lee Seokmin whom you spent nearly all of your college years with. A faint smile tugs at your lips at the thought of it, the thought of him. Sure, you've wondered how he has been from time to time, but tonight felt different. You can't tell if the alcohol is confusing missing with longing, or if it's amplifying a truth you've kept buried for too long.

"Y/N, you... We don't even live in the same city anymore." Seokmin's voice breaks the heavy silence. There's some suppression to his voice, like he's trying to hold something back, but you don't seem to notice. "Things have changed."

You bite your lip unconsciously, almost too hard you think it might bruise and bleed. The reality of it all settles in𑁋that you live hundreds of miles away from each other𑁋and a knot forms in your stomach. You take another sip of your drink, hoping the alcohol can provide some sort of shield for the vulnerability seeping through.

"I'm... I'm not asking to get back together, I..." Your voice trails off again, and you swallow a lump in your throat. "Things here have been awful, and I couldn't help... couldn't help but think of you, I guess."

Seokmin's side of the line remains quiet for a moment, absorbing the weight of your words. You can almost envision the wheels turning in his mind. There's a siren that wails outside your apartment for a few seconds, before fading away in the distance.

"You're drunk, Y/N," Seokmin states. "This isn't the best time to talk𑁋"

"I just wanted to know if you still thought about me too," You interrupt him, voice firm. The words are forcing themselves out at this point, and there's an urgency in your tone, almost as if the alcohol has taken control of your tongue.

Seokmin sighs audibly on the other end, and you can almost picture him running a hand through his hair.

"This... this isn't fair," he finally responds. "You can't just... call me in the middle of the night and tell me all this now."

His words sting, not because they're harsh, but because they're true.

"You were... you were always so cheery, you know?" You chuckle, words slurring slightly. "Even when I was drowning in stress, you had... th-this way of making everything feel lighter. And right now, I... I'm looking for a new job. Everything's been a fucking nightmare, and you... were the first person I thought of and..."

You stop your track in your words, gulping down an imaginary mass wedged down your throat. When your cast your eyes around your dark apartment, all you could see are the remnants of a life you used to share with him, and the mess you were left to clean up with.

You tighten your grip on your phone slightly. "Do you remember when, um... we used to stay up late, working on our assignments together? It... it feels like a lifetime ago."

There's a soft laughter you hear on the other end, and you think for a moment you might just have made him smile. You feel a little bit lighter at the thought.

"And... the pizza boxes that we turned into little tables because our dorm room couldn't fit all of our textbooks and a decent eating space?" You add on, finding yourself smiling to the visual. Just a tiny bit.

There's some shifting on the other side. He's remembering all of it too.

"We were a little messy back then, weren't we?" he chuckles fondly.

You bite your lip nervously again. "But... it was our mess, right?"

"Yeah," You hear him say, and there's a warmth in his voice. "Our mess that we somehow made work."

You take a sip of your drink again, even though you really shouldn't. But you can't help it. The alcohol seems to fuel your courage, or perhaps it's the shared nostalgia that wraps around your conversation like a comforting blanket. The messiness, the laughter, the late-night talks with his arms around you𑁋they were all part of a chapter that shaped both of you.

Your mind is hazy, but you press on, driven by a longing you can't quite articulate.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know why I called," You confess, voice trembling. "I just felt this emptiness, and I thought... I thought hearing your voice might fill it, even for just a second."

"It's okay," Seokmin is quick to reassure gently and soothingly. "You don't need to say sorry; it does... feel nice hearing you. But calling me in the middle of the night, when you're drunk... it's not the solution, okay?"

You nod, even though he can't see you. There's some heat that prickles at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, trying to contain yourself. You've already made an enough mess of yourself this entire night.

"I know it wasn't..." You clench and unclench your other hand, nails digging into your skin. "I just... needed someone to talk to, and you were that person for me."

"But... I'm not that person anymore," Seokmin clarifies, and his words seems to hit a nerve. "You have to be that person for yourself."

You inhale shakily, realising that you've been clinging to a version of him that exists only in memories. For a moment, you're suspended between the past and the present. The truth in his statement stings, but the pain is necessary. You've been using this idea of him, the memories you shared, to help ground you.

You wish you could reach through the phone and touch the past, rewrite the script, and undo the choices that led to this painful distance. But you already know you can't. It's too late.

Seokmin's right𑁋things have changed.

"Can you... just answer what I asked before?" You ask softly, carefully, tapping your fingers nervously against the glass in your hand. "If you... if you still thought about me."

There's a sound on the other end. You're not sure what it is𑁋a sigh, a chair shifting, or perhaps the subtle closing of his eyes. Whatever it is, it heightens the anticipation.

"Of course I... I do think about you," Seokmin admits, and that particular weakness to his voice paralyses you. Your heart catches in your throat. "I can never forget about what we had. But... we've both moved forward, Y/N. Life took us in different directions."

His words hit you like a cold breeze. It doesn't bring the comfort you expected; instead, it leaves you with a mix of emotions𑁋vulnerability, acceptance, and a tinge of sorrow.

"Maybe... in a different universe?" You hear the uncertainty in your own voice, a wistful hope that hangs in the heavy air around you.

You try to think you imagine a smile to his face when you say that, but the silence on the other end stretches out, and reality settles in again.

"Maybe," he concedes, and the word hangs there, suspended between what once was and what could have been. Just not in this one. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, Y/N. I need you to be happy, even if it's without me. Life keeps moving, and we have to move with it. You're one of the strongest people I know, okay? You can get through this. I believe in you. I always have, and I always will."

You deserve happiness too, Seokmin.

Despite the gloominess to your thoughts, every single one of his words echoes within your head. And it hurts, your head throbbing from the alcohol and emotions. The truth tastes like a bitter pill, and you swallow it down, the sting lingering in your chest.

"I miss you," You admit before you could think straight, slipping out like a confession in the dark, suddenly feeling all too exposed.

"I... I miss you too," Seokmin responds hesitantly, softly; you can hear the small, hint of a smile in his voice. You wonder if he's been smiling like the sun these days. "but... I don't want you to call me like this. Not when you're hurting and drunk. It's not healthy for either of us."

His words carry a gentle yet firm tone, a reminder of the boundaries that now exist between you. You can feel the reality of the situation settling in and the pages that turned since you both went your separate ways.

"I know," You murmur. "I just... needed to say it out loud."

For a minute, you both don't say anything. It's oddly comfortable, yet fragile with an unspoken sadness.

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself, okay?" Seokmin's voice breaks through the quiet. It's a request, a plea.

"I promise," You respond, the sincerity cutting through the haze. "And you take care too, Seokmin."

The conversation lingers for a moment, as if both of you are reluctant to sever the weak tie that binds you in this moment.

"Goodbye, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Seokmin."

When the call disconnects, you sit there for a while, phone in hand, the room now silent except for the distant sounds of the city outside.

You glance down at the almost-empty glass down in your hand, and in a swift movement, down the rest of the drink down your throat, feeling the familiar burn as it goes down. The room seems to sway a bit more than before, and you clutch your phone a bit more tighter as if it might steady you.

Then you shoot your eyes back down at your phone, seeing the way it turns on when you tap the screen, the sudden brightness of the screen stinging your eyes.

Impulsively, you navigate to your messages, and without thinking too much, you find Seokmin's contact and start typing.

[y/n] i love you, i'm sorry

With a deep breath, you hit send, and flip your phone over. Fuck, what did you just do? You're going insane.

Then your phone vibrates again, and you quickly grab it, heart racing.

But then your heart drops. It's not a message; it's a notification.

The number you have reached is no longer available.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts

[lxm-memories]

Hi hello ~ ! 🌱

Hope u are doing fine :]

Can i request how luxiem react to their S/O to suddenly slap their ass when they for example walk past them ?

I think this would be a funny lil request ! :3

Don't forget to hydrate ♡

slapping their ass w/ luxiem

✧ luxiem x gn!reader [separately]

✧ rule of thumb: please read my works as fiction related to the streamers, they are in no way real or connected to what the actual streamer is as a person - i write for the personas of luxiem, not for the person behind them.

✧ a/n: "slap their ass gonna slap so hard" i have not gotten this sentence out of my mind because of a friend. but hi tama, long time no see. been busy again and really demotivated to write but that happens every now and then. sorry for the long wait, but hope ya'll like it !

✧ You know those very confused and loud noises he makes whenever he's surprised? Yeah, that's the sound you get when you suddenly slap his ass when he walks past you.

✧ He will then slowly turn around to stare at you in confusion. A silent request for you to tell him why you slapped his butt. An answer you don't have at the moment, what were you supposed to say?

✧ "Uh, I just felt like... Slapping your butt," you end up muttering, the room eerily quiet at your confession, with Shu only blinking at you, a worried smile grazing his lips. "I- uh, thank you?" That reply wasn't any better.

✧ ".... I'm sorry-" you blurt out, hiding your face in your hands, which prompts Shu to laugh out loud, bending down to peck you on the temple, lips traveling to your ear to whisper, "No worries, babe. I could always do worse things to yours so." the innuendo behind it making your face going beet red from embarassment as Shu walks away with a melodic laugh.

✧ Squeals out in surprise. Covering his butt before turning around with an accusing glare and a pout. "What was that for?!" he hisses, but the only answer he gets is your laugh at his outburst.

✧ "I don't know! It's just those sudden urges you know?" you try to explain through your wheezing, but Ike only stares at you like you grew another head, "Most of those urges would be to eat a whole box of ice cream at 2 AM, not slap someone's butt out of the blue!"

✧ "Sorry, sorry!" apologizing through your laughs seems to only make the novelist angrier, so you only open your arms to beckon him in a hug, tilting your head to the side with a smile. "I said I was sorry, Ikey. Hug it out like we always do whenever I do something stupid?"

✧ And Ike is very weak to your hugs and how safe they make him feel. So he grumbles while wrapping his arms arund your shoulders as your own wrap around his waist. And it's all peaceful before you go: "Pat. Pat," while patting his butt once again, the novelist pinching whatever skin he could get into as a payback. "I should've never trusted you."

✧ Flinches and stops in his tracks when he hears the resounding smack across the living room. But soon turns around to face you with an easy-going grin and a: "What's up? You alright?"

✧ Which prompts you to get confused. "I am, why?" Luca only blinks before he laughs, apparently having just realized that you don't know what he's referring to. "Well because the few times you decide to touch any part of my body while not kissing me is because you're usually stressed."

✧ "No I don't..." you were about to deny, but then you remember that you indeed do have the habit of burying your face into Luca's chest and hugging him like a koala whenever you're stressed or in a sour mood, the mafia boss usually just threading his fingers through your hair whenever you do.

✧ It's scary how Luca can read you like an open book. "... Damn can't someone just slap their lovers ass without being analyzed like this."

✧ Used to it. Only lets out an exaggerated low moan whenever you do slap his butt.

✧ He's expecting it half the time with how he doesn't walk around with pants around the house. It's literally an open invitation to just slap them, because the boy barely flinches whenever you do.

✧ So used to it to the point it's sorta calming just having your hand on his butt, you don't even need to do anything, he just likes having it there, but if you do slap it whenever you're both cuddling he will and can moan each time.

✧ "Oh slap my ass." "Gladly." "... No wait-"

✧ This can go two ways. Either he will look back with a suggestive grin or fake cry. No in between.

✧ You've seen him go through the 5 stages of grief with his flat ass everywhere, he's not having a great time at all, so the fact that you slap his ass can only go two ways.

✧ 1. You don't care that his ass is flat because everything else about him is wonderful or 2. he can see it as you mocking the fact he doesn't have any ass at all.

✧ If option 1 happens, you get a wonderful night in bed, yay to you! If option 2 happens you suddenly have to console an overgrown demon child who insists he isn't flat, "Vox... Even you yourself admitted that you were flat on stream, it's literally been clipped everywhere." you remind, the demon only "crying" louder at your reminder.

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 06)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): cursing--there's a lot of it--like a lot, psychopathic behaviors, being held captive, verbal and physical violence, degrading nicknames, talks of death and unaliving someone, strangulation, PLS READ WITH CAUTION BECAUSE THIS PART IS REALLY GRIM I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING

Word Count: 4200-ish

Tag(s): I'm tagging everyone who requested to be tagged prior to the long hiatus, pls tell me if you'd like to NOT be included in the tag list for future updates, thanks! @marvelousgoldroses @jay-2s-world @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cat-or-kitten @littleshadow17 @itzz-me-duh @geeksareunique @paisleebubbles @whateverrrrrrrrs @crazyunsexycool @louderfortheback @wifeyofeveryone

Author's Note: HI EVERYONE HOW ARE YOU?? I know this is long overdue, but pls enjoy the new part of love bugs! I'm so happy to be posting again and I hope you like what I've got in plans for this series. I think we only have one or maybe two chapters left for this story (depending whether I want to write an epilogue or not lol) but in the meantime, pls enjoy this part and don't forget to LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT !!! thank you 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

The bullpen of FBI headquarters was still reeling in the aftermath of a Derek-Morgan-shaped hurricane.

Emily was just about to enter the vicinity again when she heard the tail end of Derek's furious words, right before Hotch had ordered him to retreat.

"What was that about?" Emily asked as she approached Rossi's side, eyes never straying from the two men who soon disappeared into Hotch's office.

Rossi never addressed Emily's question. Instead, he gestured for her--and everybody else in the room--to be quiet with a finger on his lips, before he pressed the unmute button on the telephone.

"Hello?"

The UnSub's head jerked at Rossi's unfamiliar voice. You were barely successful in getting him to calm down following Derek's unexpected outburst, but the sound of Rossi's voice was threatening to throw all of those poor attempts straight out of the window.

"Who is that?" he demanded warily. "Where's Agent Hotchner?"

"He had to step away for a second," Rossi notified. "I'm SSA David Rossi. I also work with Agent Hotchner and Agent (Y/L/N)."

"I know who you are."

"Yeah? I still don't know who you are, though."

A responding groan vibrated from the other line. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do you think I'm fucking dumb?"*

"No one thinks anything here, pal. Just wanted to know who I was speaking to, that's all." At the UnSub's clear signs of agitation, Rossi quickly added, "It'd be nice to know the person who clearly means a lot to (Y/N)."

Rossi's reassurance obviously managed to trigger the intended effect it had sought. Everyone could see how the UnSub physically deflated at Rossi's words, meaning that hopefully he was soon going to let his guard down.

"I can't tell you who I am," your assailant said, still adamant, although his resolve was wearing thin with each word he had stated. "You're just gonna use it to track me down and keep us apart."

The last syllable of his sentence was emphasized by the weight of his dagger on the side of your neck. You instinctively winced at the unwelcomed touch of the blade before schooling your expression once more so your captor wouldn't notice.

"I promise you, no one is going to do that," Rossi said.

"He's telling the truth," you decided to chime in, surprising everyone including the UnSub whose grip of the dagger had teetered dangerously closer to your pulse point at the sudden proclamation. "They are good people. They don't break promises or tell lies. I promise you, nothing will come between us."

The silence that fell next was heavy with the UnSub's hesitation. Bracing yourself, you forced your head to tilt back, locking eyes with him who was still standing like a guard dog right behind you.

"I swear, Darling," you vowed.

The lull in your voice--or perhaps the fact that you had called him darling in front of your team, which he could arguably take as a display of affection--must have stirred up something in his twisted mind. He actually preened at you before his eyes went right back towards the direction of the camera on the wall.

"My name is Arthur," he confessed.

A particular thread of memory in your brain immediately lit up.

Back in the bullpen, JJ and Spencer were finally returning with documents containing your phone records that they had promptly asked Kevin to gather. Spencer didn't waste any time before perching himself on his desk to start rummaging through the thick pile of files.

"Arthur?" Rossi repeated the name, eyes flicking over to Garcia with a silent request to start cross-referencing the name with the other names they had acquired so far in the investigation.

The tech analyst didn't need to be told twice. She began typing furiously on her laptop as Rossi's attention was drawn back towards the projector.

The UnSub hadn't moved an inch. His hand was still just as sturdy on your shoulder. The blade was also still just as cold as it pressed onto your skin.

One wrong move, and you would end up no better than a slaughter animal on the cold hard ground.

"Do you have a last name, Arthur?" Rossi asked.

The entire bullpen held their breath in anticipation. Rossi had planted the bait as strategically as he could. It was up to the UnSub to take it and slip up the one information that would give them a major lead to end this case once and for all.

But before the UnSub could respond, a muffled beeping resonated in the air, through the telephone line, and finally into the bullpen. The sound was enough to make your assailant faltered.

"I have to go."

It was the last thing he uttered before the line, along with the livestream, went completely dead.

The atmosphere was laden with restlessness as everyone tried to make peace with the fact that they had just lost the only mean of communication they had with you. Without the feed from the livestream, no one could possibly know what was going on. The team would have no idea if something were to happen to you.

They would have no idea how to determine whether you were alive or dead.

"Did you find anything yet, Garcia?" Rossi questioned, although in all honestly, it sounded more like a desperate plea.

The thick regret behind Garcia's eyes gave Rossi the answer he needed to know.

"I can't find any Arthur in our files, sir," Garcia informed.

"Anything from her phone records? What about the hospital?" Rossi tried again.

Emily shook her head almost remorsefully.

"Nothing yet," Spencer spoke up from his place on the desk. "Not a single thing stands out from her records."

"What now?" JJ sighed, exhaustion and worry beginning to decorate the lines on her face.

The whole bullpen stood still, as if everyone was waiting for a slice of miracle to descend into the room, holding a map that would eventually lead the team to where you were still being held captive. But such a map didn't exist in this piece of reality, and the BAU knew that they were running out of time.

"Garcia, did you record the livestream by any chance?" Spencer asked at last.

"Yeah, of course I did."

Penelope punched a few keys on her keyboard before the projector once again came alive with the footage from the livestream.

"Can you fast forward to the very end?" Spencer requested. "And then play it again backwards to the beginning."

"What are you thinking, Spence?" JJ wondered.

"I don't know. I just... maybe there's a detail we missed. At this point, even the smallest piece of clue is worth pursuing."

Several pair of eyes glued themselves on the screen as the livestream footage ran backward at a faster speed. Bated breaths waited in tension for just the tiniest hint that the team could scour to determine your location.

"Wait. What was that?" Spencer interjected. "Garcia, play that again."

"What? What is it?" Emily spoke up.

"Look at her hand." Spencer stood up from the desk, approaching the screen to get a better look. "She's knocking against the chair. Garcia, zoom in on her hand. The left one."

Penelope did as she was asked. "Is that--"

"It's morse code," Rossi muttered, realization overtaking his countenance.

"What is she saying?" JJ questioned.

"A-U--" Spencer began spelling out loud, "--T... Auto. She's spelling auto."

"Auto?" JJ's forehead creased. "As in... auto shop?"

"Her records said she went to a mechanic a week ago," Spencer recalled. JJ immediately rummaged through the papers on Spencer's desk, but the pages flipping inside of Spencer's mind moved at a thousand times more speed than any normal pair of eyes ever could. "Dinozzo's Auto Service, 894 Southwell Street."

"Got it," Penelope chimed in from her place in front of the laptop. "Dinozzo's Auto Shop. Originally owned by Carlo Dinozzo before it was passed down to his two sons after his death a year ago."

"Any of them named Arthur?" Rossi asked

"Nope. Luca and Piero."

"What about the employees?" Emily suggested.

"No. I'm not seeing any Arthur anywhere near that place."

"We profiled that the UnSub could be holding down a steady job in his everyday life," JJ said. "He might not even be related to that place. Maybe (Y/N) encountered him there by chance?"

"Nah, I doubt it." Rossi shook his head. "The bastard's too sophisticated to leave anything up to chance like that. He must have found a way to orchestrate it one way or another."

"There must be a connection somewhere, then. No way he just chose a random place off the map," Emily muttered. "We should cross-reference the name to anyone associated with the Dinozzos."

Penelope began to frantically type something into her laptop. "We've still got three names here. Oh, never mind. Two names, 'cause one of them is dead."

"What do we have on them?" Spencer asked.

"First is Arthur Doyle. He went to high school with Luca and Piero Dinozzo, works in a local company, and looks like he travels a lot for his job," Penelope explained. "There's also an Arthur Harrison, works as an accountant in the heart of Arlington. His dad and Carlo Dinozzo were long-time pals. Apparently, his dad was an accountant too and used to handle the shop's finances before Arthur inherited the office. Oh."

"What? What'd you find?"

"Arthur was engaged," Penelope murmured, "to a Claire Dumont. They were gonna get married last year but the wedding was called off just one month before the D-day."

"Where's Claire now?" JJ asked.

"She moved to Ohio shortly after the breakup, and... oh my God. Guess what?" Penelope looked up, her eyes widening almost comically. "She just announced her engagement three months ago."

Spencer hummed. "That could be the stressor."

An image of a woman suddenly appeared on screen, right above the paused footage of your hand. Everyone stared at the picture in shock.

"That's Claire Dumont," Penelope murmured.

JJ held her breath. "She and (Y/N) could be sisters."

"We've found our guy," Rossi declared. "Garcia, pull up every known address associated with this man. And hurry, we don't have much time."

"I have three properties so far connected to Arthur Harrison. Sending the addresses to all of your phones."

As JJ, Spencer, and Rossi rushed to exit the bullpen, Emily turned around and called out to the others, "I'm grabbing Morgan and Hotch!"

Without stopping to knock, Emily pushed open the door to Hotch's office, ignoring the slivers of tension dancing around in the air.

"We may have something," Emily announced to the room. "We think we know where (Y/N) is."

Your assailant--Arthur, as it turned out--pulled his phone out and pressed a few buttons in, silencing the beeping. Once the noise was gone, the room was quiet again.

He looked at you, then. Piercingly. You squirmed underneath his scrutiny.

"Wait here," he eventually said. "I'll be back."

Without taking a second to breathe, Arthur flew past you and towards the direction he had appeared from earlier.

"Wait! Wait. Where are you going?"

The sound of steps ceased on top of concrete. You waited with bated breath for his response. But the only sound ever came was that of the metal door, and as quickly as you could count to three, he was gone.

At last, you were alone once more.

The traces of adrenaline had begun to dissipate out of your system, leaving you in a shivering mess inside that damp concrete room. Once again, you attempted with all of your might to free yourself from the state of confinement you were in. But the metal cuffs binding you to the chair only dug further into your skin the more you tried to escape, while the chair itself stayed nailed in place no matter how hard you tried to rock it.

After a few more minutes of futile attempts, you were forced to face the reality of your situation.

You were never going to get yourself out of that dingy place alone.

Huffing a breath, you knew that there was nothing more you could do except to hope that your team found the hidden message you had left for them to solve.

And with that last thought conquering every room your head, you let yourself succumb to the impending darkness.

You woke up gasping for air.

It took you a few seconds to remember where you were, to remember that you weren't back in the comfort of your apartment and instead, you were still holed up in the darkened cold room where your abductor had been keeping you captive.

It took a few seconds more to realize that the drowning dream you just had might have been a tad bit more real than you initially thought.

Still reeling in shock, you peered up and locked eyes with your abductor, eyes barely registering the empty bucket he was holding in one of his hands. It didn't take a genius to conclude that he was the one responsible for your drenched state.

"W-what?" you stuttered meekly. "What's going on?"

He only stared at you in response.

"Arthur?"

You shrieked loudly when Arthur threw the empty bucket against the wall, sending a resounding "bang" throughout the whole room and breaking the plastic object into two misshaped pieces.

"Arthur--" you gasped, searching for your voice that seemed to have disappeared beneath the layers of brewing fear, "--w-what... what are you... what's going on? Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk to you, you fucking bitch."

The beating inside your chest fastened. Before you could ask yet another question, Arthur had lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging your head back so you could stare directly into his eyes.

"You're a fucking liar," he seethed. "You lied to me. Everything you said was a lie, wasn't it?!"

"I don't--" you hissed, trying to ignore the biting pain in your scalp, "--I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Stop fucking lying!!!"

A sharp smack reverberated in the air.

It was only when the ringing in your ear grew louder did you realize that Arthur had slapped your cheek.

Hard.

Ignoring the tingling on the side of your face, you lifted your head once more. The room was spinning, tilting your balance left and right, but you held your ground through it all.

"What did I lie to you about, Arthur?" you asked carefully.

He threw something at your feet. It clanged against the hard ground below before landing face up near your toes.

It was your phone.

But the fact that Arthur somehow had your phone in his possession wasn't what caused the sick feeling to stir northward in your belly.

It was what you were seeing on the now cracked screen of your phone: a picture of you and Derek. A selfie that you had impulsively taken of the two of you in bed after one of your nighttime escapades.

For awhile there, you had briefly forgotten about that photo. It was another lost memory in the ocean of rubble left behind in the wake of your fallout with Derek. Seeing that photo again after such a long time triggered waves of emotions that you had been desperately burying for the past few weeks.

The longing, the guilt, the heartache.

The regrets.

The regret of ending your little arrangement so abruptly in such a hostile manner. The regret of not telling Derek sooner about the baby. The regret of maybe never being able to see Derek for one last time.

But most importantly, it was the regret over not revealing the truth of what your heart felt for him that was eating you alive.

"You're fucking him," Arthur fumed, eyes blazing with an indescribable fury that made your entire body shudder.

"Arthur, please... I can explain--"

"Shut the fuck up."

He stepped forward once more, crowding your personal place and rendering you helpless underneath his psychopathic gaze.

"Tell me the truth, and if you dare lie--" Arthur paused, his hand disappearing behind his back before it appeared again with a dagger that he promptly pressed against your abdomen, "--don't ever dream of meeting your child."

"Okay. Okay, I'll tell you the truth."

"You're fucking him, aren't you?"

The bile in your throat had tripled in size. Swallowing it down, you tried to even your voice out as you answered, "I was."

"Ha," he scoffed. "I knew it. You fucking whore. You're no better than any of them."

To your relief, he eventually chose to retract the dagger and stepped away from you, opting to circle the room like a distressed lion in a cage. But even with the blade no longer touching your skin, you knew very well that the danger wasn't over yet and that things could escalate even further in a matter of seconds if you weren't careful.

"Arthur," you called out to him softly, slowly, as to not startle him and risk doing something that would trigger a psychotic break. "Arthur, please. You have to listen to me. That arrangement ended long ago. It meant nothing to me. It happened long before I met you."

Arthur's voice echoed coldly as he replied, "I don't believe you."

"Please, Arthur--"

"That's his child, isn't it?" he cut you off, pointing the tip of the dagger at your belly. "What he said on the phone. He said my child. That's because it's his. You're having Derek Morgan's child."

"No--"

"I thought you were different. I thought you were the one." The dagger in his hand shook with venom. "But you're just the same as the rest of them."

"I'm not. Please, I'm not--"

"I have to start searching again. For the one. You're not her, which means she's still out there."

"Arthur--"

"I'll have to get rid of you."

"Arthur, please!" Your voice cracked, leaking of terror and desperation larger than anything you had ever known. When something wet touched the side of your nose, you realized then that you had started to cry. "Arthur, you have to believe me. I've ended everything with him. There's nothing between us anymore."

The words you uttered kept lingering in the air in a bubble made out of despair. But as if every single one of them had fallen on deaf ears, your captor paid no attention to them. Not even a single acknowledgment to your pleas.

Instead, he had begun taking careful steps forward. Silent and deadly, like a predator stalking its prey.

"Arthur, please! I choose you!"

To your shock, his steps faltered upon your words.

For a moment, you could taste relief on the tip of your tongue before it was washed away by the knowledge that you were not entirely out of the woods yet. But from the corner of your eye, you could see the slight loosening of Arthur's grip around the dagger. It filled you with enough hope to push forward.

"I'm choosing you, Arthur," you stated confidently, trying to convince him of your sincerity. "I don't care about Derek. I'm done with him. I'm done with my old life and everyone in it. I'm ready to leave everything behind to be with you. I choose you."

"You choose me?"

"Yes. I choose you to take care of me. To take care of this baby. The three of us can be a family. How does that sound?"

Seconds ticked into minutes. Minutes stretched into a long silence. The anticipation threatened to break your chest in half.

When he finally began to move once more, Arthur surprised you. He threw the dragger towards a darkened corner in the room, far away from his reach and, most importantly, far away from the possibility of it harming the growing life inside of you.

When Arthur took off the ski mask he had been wearing since the first time you opened your eyes in that harrowing place, you weren't at all surprised to see the face staring back at you. After all, it was the same face belonging to the man who had stopped his car for you when your own car had mysteriously broken down in the middle of the road just around two weeks prior. The same face who offered a business card of his friend's auto shop where you eventually went to get your vehicle fixed.

In retrospect, you should have been at least a little bit suspicious by the whole ordeal, but was it really your fault for choosing to put your trust in the good of humanity?

You knew there was no point in dwelling over what-ifs anymore. Arthur would've found a way, like any psychopath would, and you would've still ended up being tied up in this dismal room with him.

"Did you mean it?" Arthur asked.

You put on your best fake smile before answering, "Yes."

He grabbed you in his arms in just two long strides.

You wanted to throw up. You hated the feeling of his fingers stroking your back. You wanted to kick him away and get this piece of shit as far away from you and your baby as possible. You wanted to rid yourself of the lingering smell of him that had now undoubtedly transferred into your skin.

And maybe, you would've done all of those things if it was only your life that was on the line.

Unfortunately, fighting back was a luxury you couldn't afford anymore. So, you were forced to stay quiet instead, letting your captor whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if it didn't repulse you even being in the same room as him.

You were close to counting towards the 200s in your head when, suddenly, a clanking noise in the distance ripped your attention away.

In a split second, Arthur had peeled his arms from around you and got back on his feet. You knew then that he must have heard it, too.

You watched as he stepped away, dragging a crate from one corner of the room and placing it strategically underneath the only opening on the walls. He got on top of the crate to allow himself to peek outside, but whatever he saw must have startled him greatly. Because the next thing you knew, he had backed away from the wall in the blink of an eye, face crumpling in what could only be described as panic.

"The cops are here," he managed to sputter out.

"What?"

Your heart was hammering inside of its cage. The cops are here. You realized then that the team must have solved the clue you left them. They had solved the case, and they were coming to save you.

Derek was coming to save you.

"What did you do?!"

In a moment of weakness, you had allowed yourself to rejoice in the promise of freedom that you momentarily forgot you actually hadn't possessed it yet. The slip-up was miniscule, but it wasn't fleeting enough to escape the attention of your captor.

"You tricked me!" Arthur's voice boomed throughout the room, carrying rage unlike anything you had ever known. "I trusted you, and you lied to me! Again."

"Arthur--"

This time, there was no room for negotiation.

Arthur didn't even waste a millisecond before he dove forward. He was a lion, and you were the deer. His sharp teeth were calloused fingers, and they dug into your skin as Arthur tightened his grip around your throat.

"You lied to me. You lied to me."

He repeated those words like a mantra, his voice drowned out by desperate gasps as you tried to scour for what little bit of air you could still revel in. Your feet and arms shook beneath their restrains. Your head pounded from the pressure that had gathered inside your skull.

In that moment, death was imminent.

You could feel it coming. You could feel its claws clutching every single drop of life that was still remaining in your bloodstream. It was a battle between the two, and unfortunately, death was winning.

As the dark spots in your vision spread into a massive blotch, you allowed yourself to say goodbye. To life. To the world. To the memories of your loved ones whose faces you wished you could've memorized one last time.

To Derek, the one who could've been, the one you wished had been.

And to the child in your womb, the one you wished you could've met, the one you wished you could've saved.

When darkness came, you expected it to be cold and unforgiving, but as it turned out, darkness was easy. Simple. It welcomed you into its home with open arms, shielding you from the cruelties of the mundane world.

As it pulled you deeper into its abode, you could faintly hear the sound of your name being called repeatedly. It sounded similar. It sounded like home.

But this was your home now, so without turning back, you allowed darkness to lead you further down the dim path. Away from the pain and the heartbreaks of life. Far from the evil that lurked in the streets behind their well-crafted masks.

In the darkness, there was nothing.

In the darkness, you were nothing.

And nothing was exactly what you were going to be.

[thisismeracing]

Suit testing | MS47

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!reader (she/her)

Word count: 0.8k

Genre: smut (plotless smut)

Warnings: not proofread; graphic description of sex; unprotected sex; kinda public sex (bathroom sex); +18 (minors DNI);

Summary: Yn decides to tease Mick until he gives up and takes her against the bathroom door while still wearing his racing suit.

A/n: Every piece I write here it’s a new experience, so your feedback, comments, and asks are more than welcome. *mwah* 🤍

Based on this ask and these (one and two) requests.

see my masterlist | check here if you want to be on my new taglist

you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment

*don't forget to follow me if you like the piece! 💜

He looked so good. 

He looked fantastic.

Mick never looked so good wearing a race suit as he did wearing Mercedes’.

And that image itself was enough to awaken some of her fantasies. Though she tried her best to hold back, Yn couldn’t help but tease Mick trying to get a reaction out of him. She bent over the car to “look at the new features”, she left some droplets of water running down her chin, she bite her lips, and she stared hard at Mick. Yn did it all with a juvenile smile on her face, which only seemed to make things worse for Mick because nobody but him was able to tell the game she was playing.

That’s why Yn wasn’t surprised when she excused herself to go to the bathroom and Mick followed, holding the door before she could close it and slamming behind him. 

“What is this game you’re playing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Micky,” Yn blinked, a teasing smile adorning her features, her body pressed against the bathroom door, sandwiched between Mick’s hard body and the wood. 

“Cut the act, you know I know,” he pressed harder, and Yn held back a whimper, he felt so good, and it didn’t help the fact that he was pissed, which turned his features even hotter. “And you know it drives me fucking crazy.” The last part comes out as a grunt and Yn feels heat pool between her legs. 

His big blue eyes found her waiting ones and they stare at one another in the silence of the small bathroom. For a beat, it’s almost like they can read each other’s minds. Mick for instance arches his brows when he notices the way Yn’s eyes glow, how her breath falters, and especially how her tongues dart out of her mouth to lick her pink lips. She was trying to resist her own urges, but the way his face twitched challengingly made her give up holding back.

Yn’s hands found Mick’s semi-erect cock through the fabric of his racing suit. Her movements were just enough to bring him to the edge, he was the one who needed to give up holding back now, and that he did when she squeezed him and smiled.

“You knew this was going to happen, huh?” queried Mick while freeing enough space on his suit to free his cock without taking it off completely. He was still wearing his fireproofs and the image of his hand wrapped around his dick pumping it made Yn meowl. “You decided it was a nice idea to tease me with this fucking dress, eh? To play the rough game,” he punctuated his last sentence before finding Yn’s panties and pushing them to the side. 

She whimpered when Mick coated himself with her juices, teasing her clit and entrance, before finally sliding in. 

Her back hit the door and Mick slammed back in another thrust that made Yn see stars. He slid the dress strap down and did the same with Yn’s bra before dipping his head to wrap one of her nipples in his mouth, twirling his tongue and biting it lightly. 

“Keep your voice down, you don’t want them to know that’s what you’ve been trying to do the whole time, right? Get your boyfriend to fuck you against the door in the bathroom,” the German clicked his tongue in fake disappointment. “Such a bad girl, Yn.” 

Yn whimpered when Mick lunged forward again, her toes curling and eyes rolling back. Her hands were gripping whatever part of his body she could, nails digging into his fireproofs in search of his skin. 

“Shhhh,” Mick tried when Yn let a particularly loud moan. One of his hands found her mouth to try and muffle the sound while the other held her waist in a way to keep her in place. Yn’s legs wrapped around his slim waist giving Mick an even better angle, and he took it. He took it all, closing his eyes and thrusting harder against her. He watched as one of her hands snaked between them to press her own clit and the other gripped her chest. The sight itself brought Mick even closer to the edge. 

“I’m coming,” it was almost like a plea. Yn wanted to state a fact, but her body was way too close to its pleasure pike, it ended up sounding like a plea. 

“So fast?! Do you like getting fucked in public? Or is it the fact that we are still dressed? Sounds dirty, doesn’t it?” the blonde teased though he too was close to reaching his climax, his thrusts starting to get sloppier.

Mick pressed their foreheads together keeping eye contact while he slid off and then grind his way back inside. Yn grabbed his jaw and smashed their lips in a messy kiss, licking and nipping each other, swallowing each other’s cry when the orgasm finally rippled through them. 

They rode it together, the shockwaves still traveling through their bodies when they opened their eyes. Yn smiled satisfied, and pecked Mick’s lip before taking some sweat off his forehead. 

“That was hot,” she confessed in a low voice, still inside their bubble. 

“Just wait and see what I will do to you once we get home.” 

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mellowpizzapuppy @kenanlotus0 @mickslover @dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @chaoticevilbakugo @carojasmin2204 @wondergirl101ks @smiithys

[kun-diman]

artificial flavor

title: artificial flavor

tags: gojo x reader, female!reader annoying-af-gojo, reader and gojo are arguing about petty shits, blowjob, hair pulling, overstimulation, light dirty talking, implied praise kink, satoru's a moaner but that's because he has a loud mouth, reader has had enough of his shit and decided to give him head so he would shut the fuck up and put his annoying ass to sleep

author's note: this is my first time writing smut so like this fic is just a practice...don't expect much. not proofread so excuse any typos or grammar mistake. I appreciate if you shared what you think after reading T^T

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“Literally, shut the fuck up right now, Satoru, or your ass is not sleeping in our room tonight.”

“Nah, you mad I'm right.” Satoru suddenly made a thumbs down gesture with his right hand.

You and your boyfriend Satoru has been arguing since noon about the worst tasting artificial fruit flavor. You said that strawberry is the worst, but your boyfriend thinks otherwise. He said that banana's are the worst. But banana milk is literally your favorite so you think he's full of shit. You didn't anticipated that the argument would last from noon to evening. Sometimes you forget how much of a competitive person he is.

At this point he's just annoying you. He doesn't give a flying fuck right now if you think whatever flavor's the worst. But he did made a mental note that you didn't like artificial strawberry flavors.

“Clearly, you've never tasted artificial strawberry flavoring that's why you're not agreeing with me.” You said annoyed while brushing your hair; looking at the mirror in front of you, you saw Satoru grinning. You knew he was about to say something stupid to get on your nerves.

“Oh, fuck. Can he just shut his mouth. I swear I'll do anything to stop him from talking.” You thought to yourself.

“Clearly, you've never tasted blah blah blah. Clearly, you can just go taste my dick instead.” Satoru said in a mocking tone.

You didn't respond for a few seconds. Satoru thinks you're mad now. He was about to apologize and say that he's joking, but you suddenly got up, grabbed a black hair tie, and walked up to him.

Satoru's currently sitting at the edge of the bed, confused.

“Hey, I was jo—” Satoru was interrupted when you suddenly pushed him down, and then tied your hair in a ponytail. Taking his pajamas and underwear off, Satoru puts his hip up as if it's a natural reflex for him to do so, to help you take off his clothing.

“If 'tasting' your dick will shut you up, I'll do it.” You grabbed Satoru's soft dick and started pumping your hands up and down in a steady motion. Satoru was about to say something but you stopped him from talking when you licked his tip, earning a soft moan from him.

“Fuck! Sweetheart, I was only joking, heh.” Satoru managed to let out a small chuckle at the end of his sentence before starting to moan more as you put his now erect cock in your warm mouth.

“Nghhh! O-oh fuck! Just like that!” Satoru is clearly enjoying this. You're determined to make him cum so hard that he'll be knocked down and sleep, even if it means overstimulating him 'till he can't cum anymore.

Bobbing your head up and down in a stead fast motion while your hands rest in his thighs; Satoru suddenly thrusted into your mouth. You gagged and moaned at the immediate action. Your moan sending a vibration in his cock. He fucking loves that shit when you moan.

Satoru placed his right hand and gripped your pony tail hard enough to make your mouth almost slip out of his member.

“Ah! haaa... fuck. You're being so good to me right now. Did you like getting told to suck to my dick, huh?” Hearing him praising you, and talking dirty, turned you on. But you didn't forgot your objectives as to why you're giving him head. Your plan to make him sleep is still underway.

Bringing your head higher, you sucked his tip harder than earlier. Satoru became a blabbering mess as you continued to suck his tip like a lollipop while pumping your right hand on the rest of his penis and your left hand playing with his balls.

Satoru's lewd and loud moaning filled your shared room. “Love— nghhh! Love your mouth so much— haaa... Ahh!” You managed to understand a bit of what he's saying. He's just saying incoherent words now.

A few seconds later, Satoru gripped your hair and pushed your mouth down, making your eyes water. “Ohh fuuuckk!” Satoru shuts his eyes as he came hard while filling your mouth with his seed.

When he opened his eyes, he sees you looking straight in his soul. You opened your lips, showing him your cum-filled-mouth. Satoru's panting and breathing heavily. He didn't have to tell you anything, and you swallowed his cum, leaving no residue anywhere like the good girl that you are.

“Oh! You're still awake? Are you feeling sleepy now?” You asked with a hint of frustration.

“Yeah, sugar. I'm still awake; alive and breathing.” Satoru said while exhaling.

“Too bad then.” Satoru groaned as he feels your warm mouth again in his cock.

“Shit! Haa... You're not done yet?” Satoru managed to state his question while squirming, and arching his back. You stopped sucking, and answered his question. “I'm not stopping until I see you passed out and sleeping.” You said determinedly while glaring your intense eyes on his blue orbs before continuing to suck the life out of him through his cock.

You're horny as fuck, but you chose to ignore the needs of your body. Right now, you intent on giving him a lesson. Maybe now Satoru will learn when to shut his mouth, and accept defeat when arguing with you. Or maybe not.

[slayfics]

Muichiro’s Mansion

Muichiro x Reader series

Muichiro has a change of heart, but is that a good thing?

Chapter 4

You waited around wondering if Muichiro would really decide for a third time about letting you be his Tsuguko. If Mitsuri was correct and he had a bad memory he might forget that he promised to consider it again. As time went on you were wondering if you should dare write to him again... or accept the real possibility that it was time to start eating your words and ask another Hashira.  

Uzui you decided was out of the question now. Even if he accepted you after turning him down, being around his three wives who now have a vendetta against you sounded like pure hell.

Just as you were looking at a blank piece of paper contemplating on writing to Mitsuri or not, the crow with the long lashes flew through your window. You immediately recognized the crow now as Muichiros crow.  

"I still don't like you." It said dropped a letter in front of you then swiftly flew away.

You tore up the letter quickly. You were shocked Muichiro even remembered to write you back at all.

"I have reconsidered.

Training starts at dawn tomorrow.  

You may stay at my mansion while we train."

-Muichiro Tokito

You couldn't believe it, you read the short three sentences over and over again to make sure you weren't hallucinating. He really decided to train you. Not only that you'd be staying at his mansion while you trained. Suddenly it occurred to you, you had to pack. It was already starting to be night and you had to be up and over at the mansion at dawn. You quickly got up and began to pack your things. You stayed up most of the night packing although you didn't think you'd be able to sleep anyway. You couldn't believe it, finally all you've trained so hard for was happening.  

You made your way over to his mansion which proved to be a longer journey then you realized. The Hashira's mansions were kept a distance away in case a demon ever located them.  

When Muichiro's mansion finally came into view you could see him standing outside. Your heart sank. You were so busy with packing and the logistics of getting here you hadn't thought about what you would say to him...

"Good morning." He greeted you.

"Good morning master Tokito. Thank y-"

"That will not be necessary. Please put your things inside and we will begin right away."  

Muichiro’s crow showed you the way to your room while taking condescending looks at you and ruffling its feathers along the way.

"You're not good enough, you know." It squawked.

"Thank you for the warm welcome." You retoured rolling your eyes. 

"HMPH. Well, here is your room. Don't bother getting comfortable though. I'm sure Master Tokito will bore of you soon." She said then flew off.  

Lovely you thought to yourself but brushed off the crow’s remarks refusing to let it dampen your mood. By the looks of it no one else stayed at this mansion. It was high up in the mountains where it was usually cloudy and the place had a lonesome melancholy vibe all through it. You started to wonder if Muichiro ever felt lonely up here with just his... wonderful crow to keep him company.  

After you set your things down you came back out to the entry room where you found Muichiro waiting.

"We will train outside today. Just the basics. I want to see what you can do."

"Ok that sounds good. You'll have to thank your crow for giving me a lovely welcome." You said trying to lighten his serious mood. However, Muichiro did not respond. He turned to walk outside and you followed him wondering if he understood it was a joke or just didn't care. The walk out to the forest felt long and Mucihiro didn't say a word the whole time.

When he finally turned around you stopped and waited for instructions.  

"Swing your sword." He said simply.

"Um at anything in particular or-"

"No. Just swing it. From left to right."

"Right, ok..." You said and followed his instructions.

"Several more times please." He said analyzing you with wide eyes. You did as instructed feeling awkward and uncomfortable. You wish there were some icebreakers before, this made you feel extremely nervous.  

"You are awfully slow. We will work on that first." He muttered.  

"Oh u-"

"Swing it up and down now please."  

This continued for hours on end. Muichiro would give you a direction to swing your sword and then insult you in some way. While it didn't feel like it was on purpose it weighed heavy on your self-esteem. It felt like every movement you were doing was wrong to him. He never once said anything nice or gave any inflection of emotion in his voice.

Finally, when the sun was starting to set he decided to end training for the day.  

"That is enough for today." He said simply raising his hand.

"Oh ok.. well how did I do?" You asked, wishing for some feedback or conversation after the very awkward day.

"You have a lot to work on." He said.

"Yes, I heard you say that before." You replied, starting to feel aggravated at his constant put downs. 

"If you heard me before then there was no need to ask. Tomorrow, we start again at the same time." He said then walked off back to the mansion.  

The next few days were more of the same. Muichiro did bring out a practice dummy to watch you strike but the comments were always the same, too slow, needs improvement, not enough force. To make it worse you could never read what the Hashira was feeling. His indifference to everything was starting to drive you mad. Did he regret saying yes to training you? Did he really think you needed so much improvement that you were hopeless? You started to cry feeling like you had made a big mistake wanting so hard to be his Tsuguko. This felt awful. You couldn't remember a time you felt so hopeless. You needed to get these emotions out somehow.

You took out a piece of paper and began to write to Mitsuri.  

Mitsuri,

I feel like I made a huge mistake. I think Master Tokito hates me. He never has anything nice to say about my abilities and it feels like everything I do is wrong. I don't know what to do, I feel so worthless. I just needed to vent. I'm so sorry I'm sure you're very busy being a Hashira so don't feel the need to respond. I just needed to release this somehow.”

You sent your crow off with your letter and went to sleep feeling a bit better after getting that off your chest.

The next morning while you were getting ready for another training session you heard a knock at the door.

You came to the entryway to see Muichiro already opening the door.

"Hi!! Muichiro you're looking lovely as ever it's so good to see you! Mind if I come in?" Mitsuri said gleefully.

"Yes." Muichiro responded but Mitsuri was already walking inside.

"Oh good morning, how are you!" She exclaimed and ran over to hug you.

"Hi Mitsuri, what are you doing here?"

"Yes, please leave, we have a busy day planned." Muichiro explained.

"Oh don't be such a downer Muichior. Aren't you happy to see me? I got your Tsuguko's letter and I think you need my help."

"Thank you but no." Muichiro responded, still holding the door open for her to leave.

"Well too bad my friend is in trouble and needs help so I'm staying. I'm another Hashira so you have to respect me." She said sticking her tongue out.

"Very well. Accompany us to training." He gave in.  

Did Mitsuri really come because of your letter? And did you hear that right, she considered you a friend? You hoped she wouldn't mention any of the things you said about Muichiro in the letter in front of him. 

[bearhugsandshrugs]

Dissecting Smut: Worthy

Hey, we recently had a short discussion on our Discord about how to write smut. While there are plenty of resources out there for different terms and what to consider for the more "technical" aspects, I thought it might be helpful if I go into how I build atmosphere, what kind of thoughts go into specific sentences, and so on.

So this is for all writers, but also of course readers!

Under the cut for explicit content

We're looking at the Bane-fucking scene from Worthy, Chapter 2. Previous to this Tav had been edged without release in Ch. 1, now Bane appeared, and he made Gortash lick his boots. I needed to now move into the Bane-fucking somewhat seamlessly, so I decided to have Tav undress him.

Everything in bold marked by me:

She walked over to him and took off the boots that Gortash had licked moments ago, the long streaks still visible. Bane stood up so she could undo his buckle, loosening his pants so that they dropped to the floor, and he stepped out of them while Tav pulled them away. He wasn’t wearing underwear or socks, so his thick thighs, large feet, and massive cock stood free immediately. 

the long streaks still visible gives a visual queue for the reader. everyone can picture the dampness a tongue lick leaves behind. having this here connects the previous scene to Tav, who so far had been passively watching.

I wanted this to be size kinky so I made sure to mention Bane's size several times. Having her undress him helped make that clear as this was the time she really got up close to him, noticing how large he was (once again).

Sitting back down on the altar, he patted his lap before cupping Tav’s face with his hand, his palm larger than her cheeks. “Come. I know your cunt is begging for release.”

another size reference. it's subtle – just the mention of his palm against her cheeks, a generally tender gesture, drives that home

"begging for release" – tying this back to what happened previously (aka the edging in chapter 1). sometimes people struggle with writing smut that is embedded into the chapter or scene, and stuff like this is how I personally like to do it. Have characters banter, or refer to something that happened earlier. It doesn't always have to be sexual!

Tav looked around the room, taking in the scene once more, almost as if to figure out if this was all some sort of weird prank or if she had been privy to a spell that made her hallucinate. But the Banites, having stopped chanting, simply stood there and watched while Gortash sat on the back of his feet, staring at her with an unreadable expression. 

this paragraph is me zooming out of the scene. if you imagine a movie, we had a lot of close ups (the boot licking, the descriptions of his size, the spoken lines). I like contrasting this every now and then by adding a description of the wider room/setting, to really anchor it in the moment.

The Banites are still there! They're mostly irrelevant for now but adding them here takes the edge off for the readers wondering what is going on with them. It also, yet again, ties it back to the earlier scenes in the fic

it also buys some time for pacing. Tav is still a bit hesitant because of her disbelief, so having her buy time feels authentic.

Gortash being mentioned makes sure we just don't "forget" about him. He's kneeling, he's "parked there", so to speak, so we acknowledge him even though he won't be a major part of the action. "closing" this makes sure readers don't keep wondering what happened to him and can focus on the action

“I hate waiting”, Bane roared, and his tone was sharp for the first time.  Swallowing nervously Tav climbed into his lap, reaching down to guide his already hard erection into her, but his big hand caught hers before she could.  “This isn’t anything to be rushed”, he interrupted her, looking into her eyes. Tav’s world started to spin – the fiery red pulled her in, quickening her heart rate while slowing her breathing, making her feel dizzy and lightheaded. “This is worship.” 

He hates waiting but he doesn't want to rush – at first glance contradictory, just like I wanted Bane to come across. He has a specific logic to him that is all about him being obeyed. I put this section in specifically to build character and show that he has one rule: his word is law, immediately. he called out to her, she didn't immediately obey, hence the roaring. two seconds later he's issuing a new command. keep up, Tav

"worship": I made sure to throw in as many religious themes as possible, tying this into the overarching theme of making amends to a god

He took her hands behind her back, holding them and her in place at the same time, then brought his other hand between her legs. She was still wet, or wet again, it was getting hard to tell.

a slight callback to the previous scenes agains while also establishing that Tav is into what is happening (with a slight dash of dubcon)

Bane pushed one finger into her cunt without warning, and Tav gasped at the girth of it. When he added a second one she thought she would faint, moaning loudly as he pumped in and out of her.

Size kink! size kink! size kink!

"moaning loudly" - have the characters make noise!

The god took his time with her, adding flicks of his thumb against her clit until Tav’s eyes rolled back, then pulled his fingers back out to a protesting whine from her. Between them, pressed against both of their stomachs, was his large cock, and Tav licked her lips thinking about sinking down on him.

Establishing that she is into him here. She enjoyed it, she wants more of it, she makes it known (subconsciously!)

Utilize different senses to show pleasure: she can't focus her vision, she makes a sound, she licks her lips (touch/taste)

Humming with approval, Bane brought his slick-covered fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean.  “Adequate”, he nodded and let go of her hands, then lifted her body up by her thighs as if she didn’t weigh anything. “Guide”, he commanded. 

Bane is into Tav enjoying this. It's hot because this isn't non-con so having characters get turned on by the other's pleasure is always good. Have the characters react to each other!

"sucking them clean": nothing like throwing in some taste/touch references

Character/atmosphere building: while he is into her arousal, he is still Bane, so he bosses her around.

Tav reached down to push his tip against her entrance. Just the tip alone was wide, so wide, and when he lowered her body down on him she sobbed out a curse so loud it echoed through the hall as her walls stretched to accommodate him. From behind her, she heard Gortash suck in a deep breath. 

Now, after building all this foreplay/tension, she's about to fuck him. We're really driving home the size kink so of course another mention of his girth

It's difficult for her to take him. We're switching between external view (push his tip against her entrance, lowered her body – this is all "looking down on them" phrasing as a narrator) and her feelings (wall stretching, sobbed out a curse – we're put into her sensations, helping us visualize it better) before going back into the wider setting (echoed through the hall, she heard Gortash)

check that I wrote "she heard Gortash suck in a deep breath", instead of "Gortash sucked in a deep breath". This phrasing is something I use a lot and it centers Tav, making it truly her POV.

“Fuck”, Tav panted, sitting still, unmoving, Bane’s cock twitching inside her as her muscles worked hard to fit him. The god chuckled deeply, then leaned back on the altar to rest his body on his forearms, watching her.  “Worship me”, he demanded, voice booming through the room. 

again, Tav needs time. I feel this makes it more authentic, so she sits still, giving her body a moment.

Bane is amused because he's this weird detached deity. Mentioning his odd mannerisms helps with that.

another religious reference in a commanding tone for tension/atmosphere!

It was almost too much and she hadn’t even started, but Tav rolled her hips tentatively into his, then raised her body so she could sink down on him again, spreading more of her juices on his cock. After a few repetitions she felt ready to ride him properly. 

We're leaving the factual descriptions of the action for the sake of giving Tav a bit more POV by mixing in "it was almost too much" and "she felt ready"

Her pants were so loud she could barely hear herself think. Not that anything coherent was happening on her mind anyway – all she could focus on was the way Bane’s length pushed into her, rubbing at spots that made her whimper with need, and how his menacing eyes dragged over her body again and again, watching her cunt sink down on him, her tits bounce, and her mouth fall open. 

More audio clues! She's fucking him now, so I'm showing her arousal here with the panting. Not using "moan" was a deliberate choice: She is panting from exertion, too. Moaning would not have made that point.

The second, very long sentence centers how she experiences Bane all while letting us know what Bane is doing. Tav is so into it that everything fades to black. It's just fucking Bane, so the descriptions are also only fucking Bane.

Bane, still half shadow, half man, felt different than anything she’d ever experienced. Every inch she took in dragged out a new sort of desire, every part he touched burned her core with need. But he was breathing heavily too, flaming eyes half-closed with lust, and hands clenched into fists. 

if it's just Bane, what does that mean? He's a god, after all. I mentioned in the chapter earlier that he was a shadowy figure, so I wanted to include that here, so that readers don't wonder about that. Nothing more distracting than dropping in a particular description of something and then never bringing it up again!

He's aroused too and that shows through his tensing body. It's good fucking.

After a particularly slow roll of her hips he groaned and sat up, bringing his hands down to her ass to pull her into him.  “Don’t tease”, he growled. “Submit.” And with that he started to pound into her, slamming his hips upwards with force. Tav’s breath caught in her throat, but when a shadow enveloped her breast, sucking on it with greed, her cunt started to spasm around him. 

it doesn't matter if Tav was teasing or just taking it slow because he's massive, here's another part where we get to witness Bane's arbitrary demands.

I decided not to have a long build up for her at this point, and rather have her come almost suddenly. Why? She's been edged the entire first chapter so I didn't want to repeat myself, Bane is not into the whole edging thing right now, and I wanted to show that she has little control over how things go, even in her orgasm. Instead of a slow build up with references about how she's climbing, Bane sucks on her tit and she gets so overwhelmed she comes on the spot.

“G-gods”, she came so forcefully she punched his chest, crying out a curse while gasping again and again, waves of accumulated pleasure releasing all at once while he bounced her on his cock.  Between their legs her cunt gushed out spurts of wetness, and Bane huffed with approval as it dripped down his balls and alongside the insides of his thighs.

yes she's calling on the gods while fucking one. i found it funny :D

punching his chest with her comparably small hand as another reflexive action. rationally she would never punch Bane. but she's overwhelmed, so she does

She squirts all over him and Bane is into that. Again reflecting her pleasure by having another character react to it. Show, don't tell, how hot this is.

“Good girl”, he praised her, slowing his movements, and Tav blushed at the unexpected compliment. Suddenly, spotting something behind her, Bane chuckled. “See what the Black Hand thinks of your worship.” Tav turned her chest and crooked her head so she could see Gortash behind her, still kneeling in front of the altar, his hands clasped on his back. His cock was half-hard, and down on his thighs she spotted a small puddle of cum. 

we're slowly zooming out now: at first Bane talks to her, pulling our attention away from specific body parts to a conversation. By asking her to look at something I'm gently widening the scene for the readers so we can get into the description of what else is/was happening in the room

Gortash! yes. he's still kneeling. we're not surprised by this because it was mentioned earlier. but he came untouched: this also drives home the point about everyone being into this, plus it's a hot kink, and last but not least it ties him into the scene. If I hadn't have him come here, I probably would have had him exchange words with Bane to subtly include him back into the scene.

The chapter goes on for longer (including knotting), but I'm gonna stop at this point. Happy to expand more if anyone wants me to!

If you made it this far: wow, thank you. Let me know if this was helpful, or insightful, or interesting! And if you have a specific scene from one of my fics you'd like me to dissect (smut or otherwise), send me an ask!

[kefiteria]

Serenity in My Eyes.

Character: scaramouche/wanderer x reader

Tags: fluff, one shot!

Synopsis: just taking a leisurely strolls with scara at cherry blossom park, adorable and short!

🍨 A/N: i got inspiration to wrote fanfic from this song while walking outside earlier today~ He's more of a Wanderer here but I decided to use 'Scaramouche' because it's more natural for me to write it that way~

“Oh, so you're finally here… took you long enough.” Scaramouche remarked, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes in mock excitement as he spotted you. Despite his sarcastic tone, there was a hint of genuine pleasure at seeing you. The promise to hang out had been made, and spring was the perfect time to catch up, with the cherry blossom in full bloom.

“Hi there!” you greet cheerfully, noticing the crowd gathering around. “Looks like there are more people here than expected. I thought an early morning stroll would mean fewer crowds.”

You shrug your shoulders, but Scaramouche continues walking without waiting for your rambling. “Well, excuse me for trying to lighten the mood.” you mutter under your breath, a hint of annoyance creeping into your tone.

He glances back at you with a raised eyebrow, “Tone it down, will you? It's far too early for that level of energy.” His words are laced with sarcasm, but you detect a hint of amusement in his expression.

As the two of you strolled, Scaramouche couldn't help but comment on the cherry blossom picnics that mortals enjoyed during this season. “Ah, the cherry blossoms,” he mused, “a perfect backdrop for mortals to frolic and gossip.” He glanced around, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “But you know how I feel about crowds.” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Fortunately, a single glare from me and they scatter like leaves in the wind, much to my endless amusement.”

You chuckle softly and remark, “Is it just me, or are you actually enjoying their reactions? Perhaps this stroll with me isn't as tedious as you make it out to be.”

His response comes with a snarky scoff, “Oh, please. Don't get delusional now. Enjoying your company doesn't mean I'm suddenly softening up. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here.” Despite his dismissive tone, there's a subtle twinkle in his eye, hinting at a begrudging acknowledgment of the enjoyment in your presence.

The scattering cherry blossom petals and blooming bushes painted a picturesque scene, but to Scaramouche, it felt like a mundane and random activity. He couldn't comprehend why you chose this as a way to hang out with him.

In his eyes, your simple act of taking a leisurely stroll seemed unfathomable. The way you breathed in the crisp spring air, the gentle warmth of the sunlight caressing your skin, and the delicate petals swirling around you as if in a final dance—all of it left him perplexed. Why did the sun's rays warm his heart? Why did the spring breeze leave him breathless? And why did the falling petals, following your every step, create an impressionist painting-like aura around you?

Despite his analytical mind trying to rationalize it all, there was an undeniable beauty at the moment, a surreal quality that made him question his perceptions of the world around him.

Scaramouche muttered softly to himself as he approached you, his expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. “You… make me confused.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why do the petals have to fall around you? Why does the sunlight seem to spotlight only you? Why… tell me why, do you make me feel this longing…"

Suddenly, he snapped out of his reverie, his annoyance evident as he scoffed at his thoughts. “Forget it,” he dismissed, shaking his head.

Concerned by his sudden change in demeanor, you offered to move to a quieter spot with fewer people. “Are you okay?” you asked, noticing his preoccupied state.

“Don't bother-” he retorted, but before he could finish his sentence, you handed him a camera, cutting off his words. “Alright, Mr. Snarky Man, how about less scoffing and more pictures!” you exclaimed, striking a pose with a playful laugh.

Caught off guard by your spontaneity, Scaramouche couldn't help but be intrigued. With a reluctant smirk, he raised the camera, silently conceding to your request. Despite his initial resistance, there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he captured the moments with you.

“Ugh, how many pictures am I supposed to take? Hurry, I'm here to indulge in this 'hangout', not become your personal photographer.” Scaramouche grumbled, though his hands continued to snap away, capturing every angle and scenery of the cherry blossom park as you requested.

With a playful grin, you insisted on one last shot—a close-up of you with the beautiful background. Chuckling at his resigned expression, you knew he was trying his best, despite his protests.

As he groaned and reluctantly set the camera's focus on you, you couldn't help but smile at his begrudging cooperation. “Fine, listen to my count,” he instructed, his tone stern yet tinged with amusement. “This is the last one. If it turns out ugly or anything, it's your fault, not mine. Don't whine later.”

You nodded eagerly, ready to strike your pose. “Yeah, I won't complain! Okay, okay, I'm ready!” you declared, beaming brightly at the camera lens as Scaramouche prepared to capture the final shot. Yet a few seconds passed, he didn't click the button.

“Huh? You haven't clicked it, silly!” you exclaimed, holding back your laughter as you maintained your pose.

“I love you.” Scaramouche confessed softly, finally clicking the camera.

And with that heartfelt declaration, the moment was captured, forever frozen in time.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

So I saw that you're writing for Marvel now. I was thinking about jealousy. Specifically Bucky being ✨Jealous✨. Like the reader is just chatting away with someone about this guy she likes (bucky) but she knows he doesnt like her back (he soooo does) and (everyone else can see it too) so he gets hella jealous and finally just snaps. And kisses her like he is gonna die if he doesnt. The kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else in the world kiss.

Anywayyyyyyysssss

LYSM❤️ 

Author note: The "bad guy" of this story is named Luke so I'm sorry if you are Luke or you're friends with a Luke.

Triggers: Nothing? I think it's just fluff, a little of Bucky angst but nothing bad!

Bucky didn't mean to eavesdrop, he swears! All he wanted to do was get more tea!

But....when he heard your voice, your giggle, maybe just maybe he stayed hidden on purpose.

Who is making her giggle so much?? He wondered feeling emotions he hasn't felt in a while. Anger, confusion, insecure.

He overhears a few things that makes his ears ring.

"He's just so sweet you know? Like he is always trying to be there for me and he's so pretty! Like those eyes!" You playfully groan, "He's just perfect." Bucky stops listening after those few sentences passed your lips. Who is she talking about? Who is there for her, I thought I was that person... He goes back to his room with his empty mug and decides to spend the rest of the morning pouting in his room.

Bucky was dreading tonight.

Why the hell did he promise Sam that he would go to this party??? He knew you were going to be there, my god what if that "perfect" guy was going to be there with her? Is he going to have to deal with you be hanging all over this mystery guy? As his mind races with the idea of you being with someone else it begins to wander away with the idea of you. What will you being wearing? Will your hair be down or up? If it's down it usually means you were struggling more today than usual, does that "perfect" guy know that? "fucking doubt it" He grumbles as he walks out the door.

Sam is over this damn attitude Bucky has been giving out today. "What the hell is wrong with you tonight?" Sam asked fed up, "I know this isn't like your thing but you were improving on at least fixing your face when you're in a mood. I think if you glare at that guy anymore he will drop dead, go over and talk to her, get your girl or leave them be and fix your face." All he got in response was an eye roll.

Bucky had enough. Who the hell does this guy think he is! Your attention has been on this 'Luke' guy all night. Bucky hasn't been able to get you alone for at least a conversation for hours now and he was done. Finishing his drink he leaves the table and goes over to you, walking with a purpose. He doesn't notice the way your eyes light up and how a smile graces your face when you see him coming your way but he does notice how you seem to giggle and lean into Luke to whisper something to him and he certainly noticed Luke rubbing your arm before walking away.

"Bucky! I've been wanting to talk to you abo-" You get cut off by his lips pressing against yours with a passion. You gasps slightly, completely caught off guard. Sure people were saying Bucky was into you but you didn't really believe it. The two of you pull away slowly, wanting to stay in your own little world. Bucky smile softly, feeling a sense of relief from feeling you so close to him, but that was quickly overshadowed by a sense of fear washing over him. What if you weren't into him like that? What if he overstepped? What if he just ruined your relationship? What if Luke wanted to kick his ass now?...well I could totally take Luke.

"I-I um I know I didn't, I should've asked before kissing you but you don't understand how awful it has been watching you with that guy..." he trailed off feeling embarrassed by his previous actions. "I think I should probably just get going" he announced before he is stopped by your hands softly gracing his face. When he got the nerve to look back up at you it was his turn to gasp against your lips as you kiss him with a passion.

Who would've thought everyone was right when they said you guys were into each other. Bucky definitely wishes he listened sooner if it meant he got to feel your lips against his.

I hope you loved! I loved writing it! I'm finally getting back into the groove with writing so if you have any request I would love to try and write it for you! I do fluff, I'm trying my hand out in smut and angst too

[wordsarelife]

all american bitch

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

summary: everyone knew there was something wrong in the way that quill talked to you, and slowly you started noticing as well

warnings: swearing, making out, sexual references, trauma, death of a relative and quill acting like a jerk

a/n: i don't particulary like quill in this fic and i'm not really sure if his character development (or the reasons why he did what he did) makes sense, but i just love to write happy endings, so please just ignore it lol

lockwood was doing what he did often, watching you sit on a stair, wating for your brother to come back, without moving a muscle.

"do you see that?" lockwood turned his head to look at george, pointing you out to his friend "he just lets her sit there and disappears for gods knows how long"

"it's a shame" george nodded and lockwood couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or genuine. "but everyone knows how he treats her, lockwood and it's her own decision, that she tolerates that. i don't think she would fancy you saving her"

lockwood decided to ignore the last thing george had said "how bad of a brother do you have to be for everyone else to know?"

george just shrugged and lockwood was ready to repeat what he had said (for the simple need of getting an answer), when lucy entered his field of vision and involuntary declared herself his new victim.

"thank you, george" lockwood patted his friends shoulder, while pushing his empty glass into the hands of one very confunsed george.

"do you see that?" lockwood stepped next to lucy, without bothering to think of a new introductory sentence.

"huh?" lucy turned her head to the side, confused by lockwoods sudden appearance. "what did you say?"

lockwood pointed in your direction and lucy followed his eyes

"y/n?" lucy asked, not sure what lockwood was saying

"yeah, y/n" lockwood nodded aggravated "just y/n" he took a glass of champagne from one of the servers trays, downing it at once. "he left her waiting again. i thought maybe you could go talk to her, you being a girl and all"

lucy rolled her eyes, glaring at the boy "you want me to go over there and tell her to not accept her brother treating her horribly?"

"precisely"

"her brother who's a decorated member at fittes?"

lockwood nodded again "forget it" lucy shook her head, laughing dryly "i'm not getting involved in quill kipps' mess"

"it's y/n's mess too!" lockwood said angrily, outstretching his arm and pointing his hand in your direction

"why don't you go over there?" lucy crossed her arms, smiling triumphantly.

"because it's not my business?" lockwood said a bit too fast, not thinking his answer through. lucy send him a blank stare. "yeah, i'll just go over there" lockwood said quickly, not in the mood to fight with lucy and lose once again

"yeah, you better" lucy waved at him

lockwood groaned under his breath, putting his empty glass on an abondened table, before he continued his walk in your direction. as always, you were looking beautiful. your hair was curled and your dress had the most beautiful maroon color he had ever seen.

you turned your head in his direction, noticing him, when he was a few meters away. it wouldn't have taken a genius to see that anthony lockwood was in love with you, and still you had never noticed.

"hey" lockwood smiled, holding out his hand to help you up "you shouldn't be sitting on those stairs, your dress might get ruined"

"oh, well, quill has been gone for some minutes and it was too tiring to stand this entire time"

"why don't you join our table, then?" lockwood suggested

you looked through the crowd of people, trying to find quill. you laughed, unsurely, before you finally nodded "it probably wouldn't hurt" you smiled, taking him up on his offer and following him through the crowd.

"hey guys!" you smiled once your sight fell on george and lucy. both of them just stared back at you with big eyes. "sorry" you scratched your arm "do i have something on my face?" george quickly shook his head, while lucy stayed motionless in place

finally. "lockwood" lucy said through gritted teeth "could i talk to you for a second?"

you send a confused look in lockwoods direction, who just smiled at you, totally unaffected by lucy's threatening tone. "why don't you sit down with george?" he pulled back one of the chairs for you to sit down "we'll be back in just a second"

you nodded, sitting down on the chair. lockwood and lucy didn't really walk far until they started discussing. you could make out some words like 'kipp's mess' and 'saviour complex' that lucy directed at lockwood.

you smiled awkwardly at george. "how do you.. like the party this far?"

"eeh, it's fine" george looked anywhere but at you

"food and drinks are free" you smiled, nudging him "that sounds a bit better than just fine, doesn't it?"

george shrugged, seemingly uninterested in holding up a conversation with you and before you could start another hopeless attempt to get him to speak, lockwood and lucy were already back. by the looks of it they were not able to sort out their differences.

lucy sat down in the chair next to george, crossing her arms and sending looks at lockwood that could've killed.

lockwood, absolutely unbothered, didn't even look at her. instead he was watching you. "do you want to eat something?" he asked "we haven't ordered anything yet"

you shook your head "nah, i promised quill that we would eat together"

"how long has he been gone for?" lockwood asked intrigued

you shrugged your shoulders "i don't know, an hour maybe?"

"woah, that's pretty long, right guys?" lockwood looked between george and lucy, obviously expecting some type of reaction. lucy ignored him completely, while george nodded slowly, unsure if he wanted to even get involved in whatever lockwood was doing.

you shook your head "it's fine. i don't mind waiting"

"you can stay with us" lucy smiled at you and made it perfectly clear, that she wasn't angry at you, but lockwood. you always liked lucy. she was welcoming and you loved to listen to her complain about her two male roommates.

with george you didn't really have a relationship. you were friendly towards each other but never really talked apart from that.

and lockwood? lockwood something different. your brother hated him, so you weren't really allowed to spend any time in his company, apart from when they would fight with each other. but he was always nice and you could call him a friend. you had done your best to prevent it, but you had also developed a little crush on him these past few years. something quill would have your head for if he knew. but lockwood was your chance of freedom. he was everything your brother despised and that just made it all the more daunting.

"lockwood" the voice behind you send shivers down your spine.

"kipps" lockwood smiled, overly satisfied, while he turned around in his chair, putting an protective arm on yours and blocking your brothers contact to you.

"y/n" quill muttered "didn't i tell you to wait there?" he poined across the room

you sighed silently "sorry" you patted lockwoods leg "we were just catching up and you were gone for some time, so i thought-" you didn't get to finish that sentence

"what the fuck do you not understand in 'wait here'?" quill was angry and you didnt want to fight. but before you could say sorry again, lucy jumped to your rescue.

"this is all your fault" she muttered under her breath, seemingly talking to lockwood before she turned her head to your brother "i'm really sorry" she smiled brightly "i thought y/n and i could talk a bit. i miss having a girl around"

"oh" quill said confused. his anger had suddenly evapurated. he didn't really mind you spending time with girl generally or lucy in particular. "well, i didn't know that" he averted his eyes. "i'll be at our table. see you there" he walked away and you knew that this was him telling you to be there in less than ten minutes or something would happen

"does- does he always talk to you like that?" george asked hesitantely. you could see on his face that he was unsure if he wanted an answer to that. he probably didn't even want to involve himself in anything that was about you.

"yeah" you muttered, a bit ashamed of the way your brother acted even in front of other people "at least since i'm living with him"

"why don't you just leave?" lucy leaned over the table, confusion evident on her face

"i won't" you said honestly "after our dad died, my mother wasn't able to finance my schooling, but quill was. i owe him something"

"you don't owe him anything" lockwood shook his head "don't you ever get angry at the way he treats you"

"more often than you would think" you eyes wandered across the room. quill was telling some fittes guy a story. he was laughing and widely gesturing. you couldn't remember the last time he had laughed in your presence. "he didn't always used to be like this. our father and him were close and it took a toll on him"

"you're still his sister" lucy reminded

"oh, i know that" you smiled sadly "i wouldn't have stayed if i wasn't"

"how long are you planning to stay?"

you shrugged your shoulders. "as long as i have to. i'll save some money until i have enough to pay him back and rent something"

lockwood looked at his friends. eyebrows raised. you could see the gears turning in their heads, before lucy repeatedly shook her head. george didn't seem happy as well. lockwood turned back to you

"how would you liked to work at lockwood and co?" he asked, beaming "you could move in with us, save money to pay your brother back and not have to indulge his presence. i hear you're pretty good with sight"

you were stunned at his suggestion "do you really mean that?" you asked hopeful

"yeah, lockwood" lucy raised her eyebrows, daring him to answer "do you really mean that?"

"of course" lockwood smiled "we want to help you, right guys?" lucy and george both averted their eyes. you noticed the growing tension

"you really don't have to" you said "i don't think george or lucy are too convinced. i can take another year or two with quill"

as if on cue, quill made his way across the venue. "shit" you whispered as soon as you noticed him moving closer. you did the first thing you could think of, knowing he would cause a scene as soon as he had found you. you took lockwoods hands, dragging him in the other direction quickly.

you two ended up in a broom closet. of all places.

"did you meant to walk into a broom closet?" lockwood asked behind you

"of course not" you opened the door slowly "well. it's too late now anyway" you closed the door again and leaned your back against it

"okay, why are we here exactly?" lockwood made a gesture to open the door, but you pushed him back slightly

"my brother would've caused a scene if he had found me"

"alright" lockwood said, but then raised his brows "and he wouldn't if he found you here?"

you suddenly noticed how you had brought yourself into an even worse situation. lockwood and you were standing pretty close to each other. you could feel his breath fanning over your cheek and you nodded. "he totally would" you laughed and lockwood joined in "he hates you guts"

"can't say i particulary like him" lockwood admitted shamelessly "but he has a beautiful sister"

"well, thank you" you could feel the redness entering you cheeks. at least it was a bit darker in here "he probably would cut my head off if he found us here. even if i told him that it isn't what it looks like"

"well, what does it look like?" lockwood muttered, even closer now

you looked up at him with big eyes. he almost falted under that look. he wanted to kiss you so badly and he was wishing you would indicate the same

"i mean- eh it does look pretty compromising"

"does it now?"

"yeah" your voice had jumped a pitch higher at his close proximity. but you couldn't help but wish for him to finally kiss you. "please" you muttered

"what do you want, darling?" he asked softly, pushing one strand of hair behind your ear.

"please" you repeated "kiss me"

lockwood didn't wait for a second demand. he closed the space between you, interlocking your lips. he tasted sweet, a bit like marshmallows and you smiled into the kiss. your hands wandered to his neck, pushing him impossibly closer, while his hands wandered to your lower back, returning the pressure you were exerting.

he pressed you against the door and you voluntarily opened your mouth for his tongue to enter. faster than you had expected, he broke the kiss, sloppily kissing your neck instead

"shit" you muttered lowly. you quickly gripped his neck, pushing his face away from your neck and back to your mouth. you continued that play for at least ten minutes, when you suddenly remembered why you had been hiding here in the first place

"thank you for your offer" you said, breathlessly "but i can do it for a bit longer"

"is he ever gonna stop treating you this way?" lockwood kissed your temple

"i don't know" you shrugged "but i will talk to him. you guys were right, i shouldn't just accept it. my father died too"

"i'll be here anytime you need me" lockwood assured "or anytime you just want to make out"

you smiled brightly at the boy, pecking his lips, before you opened the door to the closet. "time for the real world, pretty boy"

"i like the sound of.." lockwood interrupted himself. right before the very door you had come out of, now watching your flustered faces distastefully, was standing none other than quill kipps

"what the fuck" he said angrily when he had connected the dots. you were ready to tell him that nothing had happened, but suddenly remembered that that wouldn't be the whole truth

"hey" you smiled, unsure what to say in your defence

"y/n" quill said slowly, and you were glad that the room was outside of the ballroom. the guests or anyone else wouldn't hear him scream at you. "did you two just fuck in there?" you could almost see smoke coming out of his ears. his eyes had fallen to to strap of your dress, that was now hanging at your elbow. you quickly fixed it

"what?" you asked surprised "no, of course not" you knew lockwood was smiling without looking at him. he put his arm around you, pulling you closer at your waist.

"you're not speaking to your sister in that tone" he declared and you send him a wide eyed look. it was hard enough for you to stand up for quill, but he definitely would never listen to lockwood of all people

"yeah, or what?"

"watch yourself" lockwood was angry now, too. "she's still your sister"

"and you are?" quill crossed his arms "you're no one, nothing to her at all"

"leave him alone" you muttered. you had never once even protested at what your brother had said at you, but it was different when he spoke to lockwood that way

"what the fuck did you just say?" quill asked surprised, he had forgotten his anger for the time to be

"you heard me" you said a bit louder now "and you heard him too. you can change your tone when speaking to me"

"ooh" quill laughed "the little miss is making demands"

"i tolerated it long enough" you reminded him "i understood you were griefing, but so was i. you never had any sympathy towards me, so why would i still have any for you? especially since you're ordering me around like your little maid" lockwood squeezed your side

"who put a roof over your head? who payed for everything and anything you needed?"

"you did"

"right" quill smiled smugly

"and i'm thankful for you doing all of that for me. i never even complained, but all of it does not warrant you treating me the way you do"

"watch what you're saying" quill pointed his finger at you accusingly "i prepared you for the real world, i brought you up and you go and throw all of it away for some boy. why do you act like a slut"

the gasp that left lockwoods mouth could've been loud enough for everyone outside the building to hear

"how dare you call me that?" tears entered your eyes slowly. lockwood was pulling up his sleeves, ready to fight the older boy, but you held his arm down. "i'm still your sister" you reminded quill, who looked a bit remorseful at your tears

he sighed, turning away, before he looked back at you "i didn't mean it like that. you're making it hard for me to trust you when you walk off and sleep with the enemy as soon as i leave you own your own"

"i didn't even sleep with him" you screamed angrily. quills eyes had grown big. never in your life had you ever screamed at him. "but if i wanted to i could, because i'm almost an adult"

"you're a kid" quill spat "and it's my job to take care of you. make sure that you turn out well and not get yourself knocked up at seventeen"

"oh my god" you groaned "i didn't sleep with anyone" you repeated once again

"i know" quill said surprisingly soft "but mum did. she ended up pregnant and without any degree in anything. and now, after dad’s death she has nothing to support you with, not even herself. i want you to make different decisions, to be smart and learn something, before you lose focus and fall in love"

you sighed "i understand that" you turned your head to look at lockwood, smiling slightly "but i think it's already too late"

quill sighed as well.

"you didn't have to treat me the way you did" you said "you could've just been honest with me, you know?"

"i know" quill nodded "but i was never good at these things.." he paused, tears briming at the corners of his eyes "dad was"

"i miss him too" you admitted, your voice breaking "and i hate what his death did to you. you weren't always like this"

quill nodded and couldn't bring himself to look you in the eyes. you were right about this, he knew you were. but he had just tried to make a good person out of you. he knew that it wasn't an excuse, but he was working in a dangerous field and he thought that if he would be distant and mean, you wouldn't mourn his death as much as you had did your dad's. "i'm sorry" quill said truthfully and you could see the remorse in his eyes

"i don't want to hate you"

quill nodded

"but you have to be better. an apology alone is not enough. i love you but i'm not beneath receiving any love back" you told him "you have to change the way you treat me, honestly quill, it's not okay" slowly, but determinated, you stepped closer to hug him.

you couldn't remember the last time you had done that. you had missed you brothers warmth. he had always been a good brother, before all this mess had happened and you knew you could forgive him eventually. both of you had taken far too long to have an honest conversation

"we will fix it, i promise" quill muttered into your hair and you nodded, before you losened the hug.

quill's eyes fell upon lockwood. he send him a nod. "thank you for being nice to her"

lockwood contemplated to scatter salt into the wound by saying something along the lines of 'i was just doing what you apparently couldn't', but then instead he just nodded. "of course"

quill smiled tightlipped, before he turned back to you. "and once we get home, we will have a very important conversation"

"quill" you laughed uncomfortably and your brother laughed as well. the sound send shivers down your spine and you had rarely been this happy. for the first time in a long time it seemed like everything would become good again.

"i'll call you" you smiled in lockwoods direction, before you followed your brother out of the estate.

not because he had told you, but because you just wanted to and that was a very good feeling.

[stuckinapril]

Hi Cianna, just wanted to say I really admire your study ethic and general vibe on this blog (you inspire me to do better!)

Do you have any advice/tips for good study habits and staying focused? I find that I get some work done, but after a break I can't get back on track

Sorry for the long ask/ studyblr type of question;; what is your favourite hairstyle that you do with your hair! (I also have curly brown hair :)

Have a lovely day also <3

🌻🌻

hi! i touch on a lot of points in this other ask, but a few specific learning techniques i abide by are:

parkinson's law. parkinson's law states that work expands to fill the time. basically if you have an essay that's due in a week, it will magically take you one week to get it done, even if the task itself could've been done in one day. to counter this i just set artifical deadlines for myself--even if an essay is due in a week, my personal deadline has it due in two days.

prime your brain prior to learning. if you need to study a biology chapter, pre-skim it the night before. this is not the time to go into detail--it's the time to familiarize yourself with the overview of the topic, so you should only be making a quick scan of the chapter. another priming method is to make a concept map of topics before diving into a chapter. as you skim write down key terms haphazardly, google those you don't recognize, and draw a concept map linking them together. this is effective bc it requires you to actually put effort into connecting the topics, takes no longer than 15 minutes, and speeds up the learning process that follows. it doesn't matter if you find out you're wrong once you dive in; what's important is you're actively thinking of how these topics coexist, as opposed to mindlessly taking notes or highlighting only to forget what you learned a couple hours later. i'm also a fan of concept maps bc i get to go back and highlight stuff i'm weak in, which is always a plus.

if you like to take notes, use it as another means of active recall. don't just passively take notes as you go along. what i like to do is i read a paragraph, close the book, then try to take down notes based off memory alone. this helps me both phrase the topic in my own words and realize what my learning gaps are, rather than just passively summarize without putting effort into truly understanding/memorizing something. anything i get wrong i hammer into my brain until i can't get it wrong anymore.

take notes effectively. our brain does not learn in sentences and paragraphs. it learns in bullet points, diagrams, and figures--and that's how i like to frame my notes. first i ask myself if i actually need to take notes to begin with, or if there are online notes out there i can use to save time (which, as a stem student, there typically are). if i do decide to take notes, i never mindlessly summarize. i always condense the material into bullet points, diagrams, concept maps, or visual representations. i also like to phrase my notes as questions rather than just passive summaries, so that when i review them i'm already testing myself in a way. most people would not understand my notes bc they're either very low-yield stuff, stuff i'm weak in, or bare-bones fragments of information.

always prioritize weaknesses. if you're weaker at chapter 18 of your textbook vs chapter 1, maybe start with chapter 18. don't spend 6 hours taking notes on chapter 1 if you're already strong in chapter 1. always attack your weaknesses first.

practice practice practice!! so so important. i owe all my As to mock exams, quizzes i make myself, end-of-chapter questions etc etc. imo practice matters a lot more than passive content review.

interleaving concepts helps with retention. an example of this is i like to do biology and chemistry one day, biochemistry and organic chemistry the next day, physics and psychology the day after... i'm not just doing biology all day, every day. another thing i like to do if i'm in a massive rut is i hop between tons of different subjects on the same day, which keeps me from getting bored/helps me understand the subjects better through distinguishing their differences.

retrospective timetable. an example of this is if i find i'm pretty weak in a particular physics topic, the next few days will disproportionately focus on physics over other subjects. inversely, if i just breezed through a biology chapter, the next few days will have less biology than initially planned. i'm constantly going back and revising my study timetable based on my performance of the day, rather than relying on a rigid prospective timetable that doesn't take into account my progress.

less passive learning, more active. spaced repetition is a big one. i love anki for this bc there's an algorithm that dictates how often topics come up again based on how well you answer them. other methods include active recall, having friends quiz you, and trying to teach the topic to others (or the plushie in your bedroom haha). if you find you're struggling to simplify topics and explain them, that's a sign you don't understand them very well yourself.

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Then Go (Part II of II)

Cassian x Reader, in which Cassian leaves the Night Court to be with you. I don't think you guys are expecting this ending lol but it was pretty fun to write, not reflective of my thoughts on Tamlin's redemption arc ;) @azsazz came up with the ending (surprise surprise lol)

Part I here!

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: fighting (forgive the fight scene ok I hate those), character death

The flight back to Spring was tense. 

You and Cassian had only ever had a few arguments over the past couple years - petty squabbles, pointless arguments, superficial bickering - the two of you never had anything to truly fight about. Not that you were fighting, really, but he hadn’t spoken more than six sentences - fragments - in the past few hours. 

Even when you two had been at odds, Cassian never shied away; in fact, the male became even more vocal, if that was even possible, always voicing his thoughts and opinions, quipping at you with smartass remarks or snarky comments. 

But he hadn’t been speaking; it was… new to you. He came back to his bedchamber utterly beat. And you felt bad, deciding while he was gone talking to Rhys that you’d still pretend you were mad when he came back, sitting back against the headboard with your arms crossed over your chest, just as he left you - you’d let him make it up to you, make you forget all about his friends’ behavior. It was selfish of you, you realized, but Cassian would have been all too eager. 

Despite the minimal experience you’d had living with the mating bond, you knew immediately that something was wrong. Normally you felt butterflies through the bond, a fluttering beat, the warm compassion your mate sent you. You’d felt it gone cold, empty while he trained in the war camps, too afraid that it would be a distraction that could cost him his life, or that others could find out and use it against him - or you.

You’d never been in a fight, never served in the war - not like he had, protecting his friends, family, even mere strangers. You didn’t bear scars - not in the way he did, marking up each limb, mangled gashes that lingered over his neck and face, adorned every inch of his wings. He was a male that sacrificed far more than you ever thought possible, and had been on the brink of death too many times to count (too many times than you felt comfortable with, honestly). 

But the pain you’d felt that evening in the Night Court - it was the closest thing you could imagine to that pain, to the pain of being torn apart and your corpse cast aside. You felt your heart breaking, the string pulling so hard you thought you might throw up right on the bed. 

He needed help. 

You couldn’t even clamber to your feet fast enough as he appeared in the doorway, silent - so quiet that even the spymaster himself would have been proud. Barely any words were spoken, just a hauntingly sad glance exchanged between the two of you. It would have been better off if he hadn’t said anything at all. His voice sliced through the air, despite how quiet his words were. His voice was gruff, throat horse - not like the groggy Cassian, tired and not ready to wake up, it wasn’t the sad Cassian, voice cracking and strained. It must have been anger, the irate side of the male you had yet to see up close. “Let’s go.”

It was all he said, tone clipped and terse, that sent chills down your spine - and through the bond. 

You were quick to scramble to your feet, almost afraid to approach the male in his livid state. He appeared calm, arms stiff at his sides, but seething, chest rising and falling steadily, forced. Cassian was seeing red; he himself didn’t even know he had that amount of self restraint. 

And you’d felt bad - he’d wanted to introduce you to his friends - his family - since virtually the first day you met. 

So you weren’t fighting, but you felt guilty for letting him take you to Night. It was a fear you didn’t share with the male - not fully really. 

“What if they don’t like me?” What if they don’t like where I come from? 

Cassian brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “They’ll love you as I do, (Y/N).” His voice was nothing above a whisper, no hesitation, no doubt, no fear behind his reply.

You had a feeling they wouldn’t approve of your Spring heritage - hell, the prejudice of the Night Court Fae ran high in Spring, too. Many of the goers in your own home court didn’t like the fact an Illyrian soldier lingered in their court - you surely figured the Night Court would feel the same about you. It didn’t matter to any of them - Spring or Night - that the two of you were fated mates. He hadn’t cared about those strangers in Spring who passed him on the street - but you didn’t have an Inner Circle like his: friends and family that would protect him at any cost, even if that meant leaving his mate.��

Cassian chose you, though. Despite the faux protection Rhysand and Feyre offered him - they left him with the sour options. They were prepared for him to leave, they knew he would; otherwise, they wouldn’t have given him the choice. 

And you didn’t dare say those words, the ones you knew Cassian was waiting for you to utter: I told you so. 

That would hurt too much. 

You didn’t want to be right. Never in any world would you have wished this pain on your mate - the same pain he’d gone through however many years ago when his mother died, when he was teased endlessly in the camps about being a bastard. 

And hundreds of years later, he found himself in the same position: outcast, ostracized by his so-called family. 

The only thing that kept him sane was you - clinging to him for dear life as he raced through the courts back to Spring. You didn’t question him, but he knew you quietly understood what had happened between him and the High Lord and High Lady of his home court. He felt your panic through the bond once he’d left that conversation, answering the royalty of the court by turning on his heel and leaving. 

Nobody had tried to stop him, either.

Rhys and Feyre did not protest as the male made his way from the room. Not a peep from Morrigan or the other Archeron sisters, who were no doubt listening from the doorway. Cassian felt Lucien lingering, though, Cassian supposed he would be the one male who understood. Amren was nowhere to be seen, Azriel missing as well.

But a shadow swirled around Cassian’s ankle as he ascended the stairs back to his bedroom, a silent promise from his brother that he’d be visiting soon. 

Cassian had often been jealous of both of his brothers’ winnowing abilities - he hadn’t felt that way since he was a young male. But he had wished for nothing more in that moment, so he didn’t have to tread down the long halls with his tail tucked between his legs, a hound kicked out of his home. 

He landed not-so-gracefully at your front door, knees buckling as he staggered forward, trying his damndest to protect you from the force of impact. The dirt from the street kicked up around you, the dark muck swirling around you - Cassian wished it’d swallow him whole.

He didn’t know what to do. His younger self wanted to fly off without a trace, far north of Windhaven or the other Illyrian camps, punishing himself in the cold. He’d pick a fight with the largest tree he could find, punching the thick bark until his knuckles bled and his fingers broke. He’d fly low and fast, so close to the icy river that flecks of freezing water pricked his skin as the waves crashed through the ice shards below him. 

But you were there in his arms, limbs wrapped tightly around him, probably afraid he’d drop you. He flew so fast - he wasn’t sure he’d ever gone that fast while carrying another Fae in his arms, especially not one with such little flying experience. Your face was pressed tightly against his neck, your nose was cold from the windchill that graced the both of you. 

Cassian stood there, frozen, right in the middle of the village. He didn’t move - he didn’t know how to move; didn’t know where he should go, what he should do. It wasn’t until you pressed your lips against the frigid skin of his neck that he snapped out of his trance, clutching at you harder, fingers grasping the thick material of your dress. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to the crown of your head. 

Hundreds of years of friendship, thousands of battles fought together, millions of fights picked with each other. All traded in for a female he knew for almost just a decade. 

A decade he’d spent the better part of keeping you a secret from his family.

Perhaps on some level he expected this, knew how they would treat you.

Not that he doubted you - he hadn’t questioned your love for him, your dedication, your willingness to do the same for him. He didn’t question or curse the Mother, not when she gave him a lovely Spring female. 

Gods, he just felt so weird. 

Starting from scratch again. 

____________________________________

Cassian had to find something to busy himself with. 

He no longer had to tend to the Illyrian camps, no training with the Valkyries or battle strategies to hound over. 

But old habits die hard - he woke before the sun everyday, utterly exhausted. He wasn’t sleeping well, just reliving that terrible night in his head over and over - what he could have said differently, if he’d made the right choice. 

Of course, he’d made the right choice. Choosing you over those who were so ready to cast him out. He just regretted walking out the door without slamming his fist into his brother’s nose. 

Cassian suppressed a haggard sigh, shifting in bed to roll you off his chest. Your brows crinkled in confusion, discomfort at the slight change of position. You nuzzled your face into the fluffy pillow, falling back asleep before your mate pressed a soft kiss behind your ear. Cassian eased himself quietly off the bed, twisting and cracking his spine as he flexed his wings in the small room. 

Cassian loved your apartment. Quaint, cozy, warm - he’d never truly had a home. Not a house of his own, just staying at his brother’s houses. His mother’s house was burned to the ground when he’d returned for her - he didn’t have many memories of her or the home, but he imagined it would be much like yours: riddled with blankets, too small for his wings to sit upright on his back, a small fire that could somehow warm every room. You’d even gotten rid of most of your blooming plants, opting for just the lush green ones, as the pollen had him waking up with itchy eyes and a runny nose. 

He smiled softly as you reached for the pillow beside you, the other half of the bed still warm from where he laid with you. But he’d spend the morning training in the Spring forest, and would return home before you woke. 

He donned his Illyrian leathers - despite many attempts to leave them behind, he couldn’t find anything as comfortable to train in. No clothes could carry as many weapons, couldn’t keep him warm as he flew laps around the court. By the time he fully dressed and was out the door, the sun was already peeking through the town, orange light shining at the end of the street as Cassian took off in a run, sprinting through the town and making his way to the woods. 

He relished the time he could be alone, where the village was empty and there were no strangers, no Fae staring nor children pointing at his wings. Normally, the male was confident enough to push pass that all, or nicely answer questions when they stopped him in the street. You were always hanging on his arm, speaking kindly with your neighbors. Many of them were nice - simply interested in the foreign male - but there were a few that threw glares, and a couple territorial males that growled at him as they passed by.

But that’s why Cassian kept training - just in case. That, and he was a restless male.

He wove through the trees, pulling his heavy sword from where it laid snugly between his wings, and slashed at the drooping branches and thick vines. His wings unfurled behind him, dragging against the wind as they slowed him. They ached, spent too long curled up underneath him as he slept last night, they hung off the bed haphazardly on the other nights. Cassian smiled to himself, imagining a home the two of you could build together - big enough for him, cozy enough for you to fill with those green plants and comfy furniture. 

Cassian spent the morning throwing rocks and doing push-ups, climbing the rope-like vines and practicing his knife-throwing. He’d had half a mind to fashion himself an Illyrian bow - carve it from the thick bark of a healthy tree, strong enough to send the arrow even as far as the Night Court. 

He pulled his thick dark hair behind his head, tying the sweaty strands back with one of his leather bands. His ear twitched when he heard the rustling of the trees behind him. His wings shot up immediately, perked up behind him ready for a fight. The sun was almost fully up, rays of light shining through the tall trees. But the brush was dense, he couldn’t quite make out what was making the noise. 

“Azriel?” He called, stepping closer to the line of trees. His brother had a tendency to play tricks on him, attack him where he was least expecting. 

But he knew Azriel would have been silent. 

Cassian didn’t know what lingered in the Spring forest, the small and large creatures that lived amongst the flora. There was no answer, not even the continued rustling of leaves and dry sticks. The male’s eyes traced the outline of the thicket, unable to make out any threat. With a huff he stretched his wings and took to the skies, circling around the woods to cool off before he headed home. 

He pushed himself into the bedroom as you were just waking up, stretching in bed when he caught your eye. You smiled, the bond in your chest unfurling with warmth as he approached the bed. He bent over the mattress, offering you a kiss in greeting. You hummed a reply, curling your arms around his neck, trying to pull him back to bed. 

Cassian chuckled, hoisting you up instead. “Let me at least bathe before I take you in the bed,” he whispered against your lips, tucking an arm underneath your legs and holding you close to his chest. 

You smiled, nuzzling your neck against his dewy skin. “You do smell,” you mumbled, arms circling around his neck. “But I don’t care.” You pecked his cheek. “I don’t like waking up without you.”

Your mate huffed, kicking open the bathing room door. “You’re more than welcome to come train with me.” He set you on your feet and cupped your face, holding your jaw in his palms. You rose on your tiptoes, letting the male press a firm kiss to your lips. 

Your hands encircled his wrists, holding him still as you met him in the middle. “Then I’d smell just as bad as you - plus I need my rest. Besides, you always manage to find other ways to tire me out, after all.”

Cassian smiled, showing all his teeth. Nothing but pure adoration lacing his features. 

He found that each morning he saw your face shining in the rays of light peeking through your small bathroom window, the pain of leaving his court lessened each day. The bond in his chest was stronger than ever, constantly humming with activity and bursting with love. 

The two of you bathed each other, something that had become part of your sacred morning ritual. You shut your eyes and leaned your head back as he washed your hair, his fingertips running over the sensitive part of your scalp behind your ears. You washed his back and wings, paying special attention to where he’d always somehow managed to cake mud at the base of the wing where it stemmed from his back. 

You’d waited until you were mated - you’d picked up on the fact that despite their size, they were quite private. Always held high and proud, you admired them from a distance, afraid to even run your finger along the wide bone that stemmed from Cassian’s thick muscled back. It was months after you’d officially mated in secret - even after you’d rode through the frenzy. Cassian took your hand in his and traced everywhere he liked to be touched. So strange, having never even seen a male with wings, then to be mated to one. You didn’t know where to begin. 

The more time Cassian spent frequenting your small home in Spring, the more comfortable you grew with the wide leathery wings. You’d explored what made him tick - where to touch him to make him cum, how to oil the leather, how to properly wash them, which of his muscles were sore after a long flight, how to relieve the tension. Cassian eventually had trouble falling asleep in his home court, without your fingers mindlessly tracing patterns against the soft flesh. 

After your bath, your mate wrapped you in a plush robe, dressing himself in the soft sweater you’d gotten him as a birthday gift last year - a Spring evergreen color that brought out his eyes. You’d even taken one of his knives and sliced wing holes through the back and sewed buttons along the bottom. It was haphazard, not as precisely done as the thick ones he donned from the Illyrian Mountains. But he assured you that he loved it nonetheless. 

“Some tea, dear?” You asked, already filling the kettle for more than enough for two cups. 

He nodded in response, already slicing up the bread for breakfast. Cassian had a habit of preparing himself a cooking-snack, already digging into a plate of bread with jam and cheese as the eggs cooked on the stove. You weren’t sure he had a favorite meal of the day - every time he ate was damn near a feast. 

Though, you supposed you couldn’t complain. Your home was always stocked to the brim with fresh pastries, breads, the finest roasts, and more potatoes than you could count. 

You wouldn’t complain about his size, either. 

Cassian sneezed as soon as you opened the kitchen window, a small breeze blowing through the house. He rolled his shoulders back and continued to stuff a slice of cheese in his mouth before tending to the eggs. 

Your shoulders shook with a flinch as you heard a firm knock on the door, followed by what sounded like a kick. 

Cassian watched you, pausing mid-chew as his eyes flitted between you and the door. You held your hand up at him, stopping him in his tracks as he already started moving towards the living room. “Let me see.” Your mate cocked a brow, wiping his hands at his pants. But Cassian nodded, watching you stalk to the door. 

It wouldn’t be uncommon for your neighbors to visit, to bring you some extra pastries or flowers, to stop by for a chat or ask to borrow some flour. You were fairly certain some of the younger females came by to ogle at your mate, especially for a chance to see him when he’d cook shirtless. It never failed to make him blush and scramble for something - anything - to cover up with. 

But that morning, you didn’t expect to open the door and come face-to-face with the High Lord. 

His eyes were narrowed, jaw set and filling the frame of the door. His hands were balled into fists at his side, knuckles white in strain. Tamlin’s blond hair was long past his shoulders, where he normally kept it trimmed and tame, it was unruly, jagged edges frayed and burnt. 

Your heart stopped in your chest, stricken with fear when you met those piercing green eyes. Purple half circles laced his under eyes, dark marks carved into his high cheekbones. The white shirt he wore was frayed, dirtied, and hung loose on his frame. His eyes didn’t leave yours, not to search around your living room, not to Cassian who’d no doubt drawn his knives in the kitchen. Tamlin’s voice was like gravel. “I can smell him.” 

“High Lord, sir - I - ” You stuttered a response, offering him a half-assed curtsey. Your hands shook as you grabbed at your robe, pulling it tighter around yourself. 

Despite how much you’d wanted to defend him after your stint in the Night Court, you’d never actually met the male - never seen him up close, even. But he stood - absolutely raging - at your front door and you were shocked. 

You felt the heat of a familiar Illyrian approaching behind you, his wings splayed out for intimidation - for preparation, you thought, unsure of what fight was about to unfold at your front door. “You’re not welcome in my court.” Tamlin’s eyes flicked upwards, above your head, surely meeting where Cassian stood at your back. 

“She’s my mate,” Cassian began, gruffly but level. Not looking for a fight. “Where she goes, I go.”

Tamlin didn’t flinch. “She’s of the Spring Court - she’s mine.” 

You took a step away from the High Lord, right into the brick wall that was Cassian’s chest. His arms landed on your arms, warm hands wrapping around your shoulders. He held you firmly in front of him, against him - your heartbeats synced. Cassian’s calmness flooded through the bond, the peace before battle; alert, but ready. Ready to throw you out of the way should he so need to. 

“She’s not yours, not even because she’s Spring.” Cassian’s grip tightened as he leveled the High Lord in front of you; the one you’d dared to defend in front of his own High Lord and High Lady - of his previous court, he supposed. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.” He took a deep breath, one in which would allow him to force the next words out of him: “I am seeking refuge.”

To which Tamlin almost let out a huff of air - humor in his eyes. “Refuge,” he tested the word, grimacing at the bitter taste. “What do you know of refuge? And what about it in my court?” Tamlin drew his shoulders back. “You aided that bitch in destroying my - ”

Cassian ushered you out of the way, leaving you stumbling a few steps off in the living room as he approached the High Lord. “What you did to your own court - ”

Then Tamlin lunged. 

He drew his claws, sharp and jagged, aimed directly at Cassian’s face. But the Illyrian was too quick, drawing a hidden knife from his pants. 

You squinted - how he managed to hide that in his linen pants - 

Cassian’s wings splayed out behind him, balancing the male as he stepped backwards and threw the High Lord off of him, angling the blade between them, right under Tamlin’s jaw.

Tamlin pushed himself up on all fours - to be fair, you’d never seen his wolf form, only heard stories and rumors about the shifter male, but gods he was already animalistic enough. He jumped at Cassian again, who stumbled backwards through the doorway, and between Tamlins punches, he raised the knife upward, aiming right for his side. 

The High Lord squirmed away, the blade only narrowly meeting his skin. “Get away from me if you know what’s good for you,” Cassian growled, wings bent against the wooden boards of your front porch. You yelped, hands coming up to cover your mouth as you watched with wide eyes, the two males grappling and hitting each other before you. 

“Get out of my court,” Tamlin barked, reaching for Cassian’s throat. 

His claws never met your mate, Cassian had grabbed his wrist and twisted it to the side, awkwardly angling Tamlin’s arms, which only infuriated him further. “You’re out of practice,” Cassian spat. “Your court is a wreck.” Tamlin kicked his legs, scrambling to pull himself from his captor. Cassian kneed him in the gut, earning a cough from the shifter. “And you fight like a bitch.”

Tamlin bared his teeth, snapping at Cass. He reached for the blade tucked into his boot, to which Cassian kicked the male off him, onto the street below. Tamlin grabbed the blade and slashed, slicing through your mate’s sweater. Cassian returned the gesture, slicing at his chest, to which he drew blood from the High Lord. 

Cassian took a step back, admiring his warning cut, flaring his wings behind him. The dirt spurred around the males at the flap of his wings. He’d take to the air if that wouldn’t give him the unfair advantage. But the High Lord wouldn’t quit, he threw his knife straight for your mate.

The blade landed only in his shoulder, though, nothing the Lord of Bloodshed hadn’t dealt with before. And as Tamlin jumped for the Illyrian one last time, Cassian had no choice but to pull the knife from his wound and hold it straight before him, right to where Tamlin had thrown himself. 

The knife was sharp, he had to hand it to Tamlin. It sank easily into him, into that stone cold heart he’d heard so much about.

The High Lord’s hands didn’t even grasp his shoulders as he slumped before the warrior, body sagging before him at his feet. 

You felt the bond quiver, the utter shock Cassian felt at the action. You were frozen in the doorway, beyond belief with how quickly that escalated - you couldn’t even process it.

Neither could your mate.

Cassian stood over the blond male, laying bloody and limp on the dirt road before him. 

It wasn’t the first male he’d killed.

It surely wouldn’t be the last.

He felt your arms around him, you’d flung yourself to his side. You wove your arms around his chest, burying your face into the crook of his arm. Your racing heart leached through the bond, racing at a pace similar to his own. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the fallen High Lord - the one who he had killed. 

He clutched at your back, fisting the plushy robe as he dropped to his knees. His chest constricted as if his lungs collapsed, 

A panic attack, his mind was reeling, his heart beating so fast he was sure he’d choke on his own blood surging through his veins. What a fucking perfect time. He’d come to terms with his role many centuries ago - warlord, killing for the goodness of others. 

He’d just killed Tamlin. 

His body felt heavy, the weight on his shoulders suddenly soul crushing. 

Cassian raised his head as your hands clutched his shoulders. His heart hammered in his chest. His eyes raised from Tamlin’s cold body, but not to you - to everyone else. The neighbors had trickled out of their homes, standing along the sidewalk and in the grass. Some with their jaws agape, others holding onto their loved ones, a few crying, even fewer smiling. 

Your mate watched as one by one, they bowed. 

Tamlin had no kin. No family left, no lineage, no appointed heir from the Mother. 

Cassian had become High Lord of the Spring Court. 

“Fuck.”

____________________________________

You took Cassian to the Spring Court estate a few days later. His shoulder had healed in the meantime, which gave him the time to convince him to settle into his new role. It took a lot of initial processing, plenty of overthinking, and many hours spent pacing around your small cottage. The male was in utter disbelief - “is this even possible?” “I don’t want to be High Lord.” “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

He was confused… scared, even, you could see it. 

Shit, it would be a lie to say you weren’t.

But all you could do was take it one step at a time. The Mother chose this path for him, and he had no other choice but to accept it. 

You walked hand in hand through the destroyed estate, the fallen walls and piles of stones along the floor. The furniture had molded, what with the rain that fell through the holes in the ceiling, your footsteps didn’t even make an echo with how much debris lay around the halls. Creatures skitted through the rooms, slithering and burrowing between piles of rocks and destroyed foliage. Just a testament to how much there was to rebuild. 

“What do I know about being High Lord?” 

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “What did Feyre know about becoming High Lady? She couldn’t even read.”

Cassian gave you a flat look. “She’s still my friend, you know.”

“Is she?” You challenged his gaze. “She and her mate kicked you out of your court - your home -”

“They didn’t kick me out.” Cassian stopped in his tracks, holding up his hand to correct you - and you arched a brow at him. “I left.” You pressed your lips together. “I want to build my home here, with you.”

You smiled, stepping close enough to him that your elbows brushed against his sternum. “You’re not saying that because you have to, right? Now that you’re stuck here with me?” You couldn’t hide your teasing smile.

Cassian smiled behind a breathy laugh, the first genuine one you’d heard in about a week. “Not because I have to.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, curling an arm around you as you two continued roaming the ruins of what you supposed would be your new home. 

“Are you going to talk to them?”

He knew exactly who you were talking about. But he only offered a shrug. “I guess I have to, huh?”

“You don’t have to… I’m not really sure how all this works.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You wished you had better answers, you wished you could comfort your mate with the truth. But you didn’t know what would happen, you didn’t know the first thing about court royalty. 

You hadn’t heard anything from the Night Court, uncharacteristic, you thought, considering their constant meddling in the past. Lucien had sent word to Cassian, the second day after the Spring Court title had shifted, offering himself as emissary to the Night Court. Nothing much from Autumn, nor Winter. Helion, of course, sent congratulations along with an invitation for dinner and more - he was pleased his ‘good friend’ Cassian had joined their club.

Cassian felt the air shift, the cold that washed over him as a dark misty shadow curled around his ankle. He peered over his shoulder, meeting the cobalt siphons behind him.

You eyed the other Illyrian, offering him a nod of your head in greeting. He mirrored the gesture. 

“I’m going to the gallery,” you offered, turning from Cassian and his brother, quietly making your way down the hall. Cassian sent a strum through the bond, thanking you, and offering a promise that he’d join you momentarily. 

“High Lord?” Azriel teased once you’d disappeared down the corridor, offering a mock bow to his brother.

“You’ve been spying on me?” 

Az shrugged. “I have eyes everywhere. Not specifically on you.” Cassian smiled. “I’ve seen far too much of you in my lifetime.”

“Did Rhysand send you?”

Azriel shook his head. “He doesn’t know I’m here.” But as his brother was uncharacteristically quiet, the Shadowsinger continued. “Trading in Lord of Bloodshed for High Lord of Spring then?”

Cassian rolled his eyes and punched him in the shoulder, a bit too hard. “I think I prefer the first one,” he grumbled. 

Azriel eyed his brother, watching how he gnawed on his lower lip and how his hazel eyes flitted around the room. “You’ll be fine, Cassian. You’ve won too many wars to count and led how many soldiers into battle?” Az clapped a hand on his back. “You weren’t General of the Night Court Armies for nothing… consider this a promotion.”

Cassian rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Yeah well I suppose I’ll be meeting with my colleagues soon enough.” The dread dripped off his voice. He scratched the back of his head, running his hands through his tangled black hair. “I suppose I’ll be needing a shadowsinger, if you’re interested in warmer weather and a bit more sunshine.”

Azriel smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind, brother.” With a ruffle of his wings, Az prepared himself to winnow out. Cassian was sure Rhysand would have his head if he found out he spent too long in the Spring Court - or with him. “Good luck.”

Cassian bid Azriel goodbye and made his way through the estate halls, kicking the crumbled stones and stepping harshly over the broken glass. He watched the dust pool up in the corners as he wandered the corridor, crossing into the gallery. His eyes washed over the shredded canvas, greens, purples, blues - no red. He recognized Feyre’s art - he’d seen enough of it throughout the River House… and the Town House and the House of Wind.

All of her works were ripped up, clawed through until there was nothing but colorful cloth strewn about the marble floor. The art that remained hung on the walls showed the expanses of the Spring forests, sparkling lakes, and vast meadows. Perhaps one day Cassian would make it out to explore the landscape. 

He found you in the corner of the gallery, where the windows had been broken out and the forest started growing in. The vines and trees crawled through the room, ivy growing along the stone walls and bright flowers blooming in the shrubbery. He rubbed the tears away from the corner of his eye before approaching you.

“I know it’s not much,” you sighed, gazing up at the painting of the orange poppy fields that hung high on the wall. “But it’s Spring…” You felt Cassian wrap his arms around your waist, holding you tightly, back pressed against his chest. Your fingers trailed over his forearms, tracing over the rigid muscle before burying his hands in yours. “It’s home.”

“It’s my home, too. The Illyrian Steppes are too cold anyway.” He nuzzled his nose into your neck, pressing a kiss to your pulse point.

“We’ll have to do something about your allergies, though.”

He groaned. “I don’t have allergies.”

“My whole neck is covered in your drippings.”

Cassian wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “There’s nothing coming out of my nose - I don't know what you’re talking about.” You twisted in his grasp, wrapping your arms around his large waist. He shrugged his wings, blinking a few times to clear the fog from his itchy eyes. 

Damn the Spring Court. It couldn’t have been the Summer or Dawn Court? 

He had to be the High Lord of a court he was godsdamned allergic to.