#there's a reason this is in tags and not a read more

[got-brainrot]

when i watched HotD (with no knowledge of the book) i was like, ok this is a bit cringey they’re obviously trying to make a pro women narrative and it’s turning out a bit cringe but whatever; and the more i learn abt the actual book the more i’m like, not whatever actually! why is this shit so cringe when you could’ve had much more powerful womens stories if u just stuck to the fucking book plot lines. in trying to make a “feminist retelling” they have just, stripped? most of the female character of most of their personalities??? I can see where they’re coming from w certain ideas, like having Helaena chose her daughter over her son could work in certain stories, but learning abt the book and how important Maelor was to that story it’s just, weird af that they did that? it feels LESS feminist to take away a huge part of Helaena’s story for this like middle school level lesson that daughters r infact just as important as their princely brothers and u probably shouldn’t sacrifice them to kidnappers, like thanks i think we all knew that actually,,,

tired of men trying to make feminist movies with their 3rd grade level understanding of feminism

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: a really long chapter part thing i fear . kisses .. maybe .. IM NOT SPOILING THIS

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authors note: erm guys .. if im rushing this then do NOT pay attention !! I WANT THEM TO BE OKAY AGAIN JUST LIKE U GUYS I FEAR. I CANT HELP MYSELF. but do NOT think this is the end because this is NOT!! we still have to get through the rest of the second week + the wedding. and if u think about it, DAMN a lot happened in week 1 omg goodnight

anyway, if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3333

you keep your distance from him the next two days. you know you have to face him, and sometimes you do, but you’re stiffer than before. he knows better than anyone to maintain that gap until you’re okay again.

it just feels like your breakup with him all over again, but this time, for a different reason other than having too much time apart. this time, you’re all he spends time with but there just happens to be something getting in the way of that. another girl. it isn’t fair.

drew’s been trying to show in little ways that he’s sorry, but it doesn’t cut it for you. not yet. and you don’t want to lead him by a string and take advantage of him caring about you. but him bringing you breakfast, then trying to avoid you throughout the day until you’re back in libby’s bed again—it’s just frustrating.

you don’t even want to be there anymore. you don’t want to have to deal with this. but it’s for leila and theo, their day is coming up soon. you just want them to have a good time and then you can all separate ways and live your own lives again. how it’s always been and how it should be.

the guys are getting ready to visit town while the girls stay back. this isn’t for you though, and you’re grateful. gia proposed a self-care day after a package was shipped to the home, a large box of cookies, and safe to say you all agreed to the plan.

“i’ve been trying to get back into reading but i feel like i have no time sometimes,” leila’s telling you and the girls as you set up shop at the kitchen island.

there’s an array of face masks, moisturizers, rollers, oils, creams, other things they’ve wanted to try. gia even brings her diffuser and places it nearby as the tv in the living room plays.

“i recommend ‘doomsday’!” libby perks up from across the table. “i read it last summer and let me tell you, i bawled crying for a month straight.”

“y/n, you read,” leila says as she files her nails, crossing a leg over another. “what are your recommendations?”

“hey,” theo greets leila as he and the boys join you four at the table, each with their respective girlfriend besides libby and oscar, and technically you and drew. he hovers behind you but just merely nods his head to say hello. “we’re gonna head out.”

“oh, okay,” leila says with a small frown, but kisses him goodbye. “drive safe, alright?” you’re winking at roman who points at you to say to behave, but he kisses gia’s cheek before he’s following theo out.

you answer leila from earlier with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting to find ‘the last love letter’ but i haven’t really been reading lately. been too busy.”

gia mouth gapes open as she slams her hand on the table, nearly knocking something over. “shut up, i’ve been wanting to read that too!” she shrieks as libby tells her to be more careful.

you can only giggle at her while she gets off her seat and comes up behind you to pull your hair and tie it back.

“that book is literally nowhere, i swear the author only made like five copies of it.”

“have you guys read ‘self sabotage’?” leila asks as she and libby, already prepared, begin to place their face masks on.

you’re on the couch with the girls as libby records you on her phone. the box of cookies are opened and after careful review, you’ve all decided what to try first and what comes after that, and so on.

“now?” you ask libby if she’s ready, and she nods. you, leila, and gia take a cautious bite out of the pieces you’ve broken off of the first cookie. it only takes you a few chews in to realize how heavenly it is. gia even pretends to faint beside you.

“holy shit,” leila says as she covers her mouth, taking a look at the cookie with wide eyes. “are you serious?”

libby lunges at you with her phone to take it from her, “well now i wanna try it!”

you’re in a fit of laughter as you try to turn the camera around before she can sink her teeth in, but she’s too fast. your eyes widen at the girl, “libby, slow down!”

and eventually, you’re full of cookies and half of them are still yet to be tried. you agree with the girls to continue this matter tomorrow if the boys don’t eat it all themselves, and you know they will. you’re just glad you’ve already tried all the ones you really wanted to before then.

when the guys get home, it’s exactly what you anticipated. they bee line directly to the cookies on the coffee table, but not without greeting you all first.

theo groans as he takes a bite, roman right beside him to stuff a whole chunk in his mouth. “this is better than sex,” he murmurs while roman snaps his fingers several times. leila can’t help but nod in agreement.

“i feel cookie-drunk,” you say with your hand on your stomach, and gia curls up into your side as she holds onto hers. “what’d you guys get?”

roman is quick to reach into his bag and pull out a couple of keychains, as if he just got reminded about something. he tosses one at gia’s head, and you look over to see what it is.

“the world’s okayest girlfriend,” she reads aloud, and she chucks it back at him, no longer accepting the gift that roman laughs about. she gets up to see what else is in his bag, leaving drew to plop down next to you and libby, who’s on the other side of you this whole time.

she’s cleaning the ice cream off her spoon when she speaks up for you and her, “what’d you get?”

“few things,” he says as he lets you look inside for yourself.

you pull out a long box and open it. it’s a chain bracelet, sterling silver. it’s nice, and you nod with raised brows. there’s other things inside that you only glance at, but when you look up at him you notice the new pair of sunglasses that’s resting on his head.

you pull it off of him silently and place it on yourself, unspokenly thanking him for the temporary gift you’ll give back later but you like them so now they’re yours for a few hours.

drew purses his lips and closes his bag, assuming you’re done, so he gets up and starts heading upstairs. you look over at libby. without hesitation, she asks, “you okay?”

you hesitate, and you know she’s only asking this because this is one of drew’s brief interactions with you since a few days ago. but you shrug it off, “yeah, i’m okay,” you say.

libby doesn’t miss a beat, she’s not convinced at all. she knows you well enough to understand what ‘im okay’ really means is ‘i’ll be okay’. that it’s not okay, but it will be eventually.

she’s seen this look on you before, during the hardest parts of your relationship with drew. she can feel the unspoken words between them, the ones you don’t even need to say out loud.

“right,” libby says with a soft sigh. she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. “you’ll be alright,” she whispers. you know she won’t pry further, but knowing that whatever drew did, it was enough to hurt you again.

after a few moments, she pulls back and, with a small smile, asks, “wanna help me with dinner soon? leila thought it’d be nice to eat out in the backyard tonight, by the pool.”

you hum softly, nodding your head, “yeah, that sounds good.”

libby grins, “awesome. ‘cause it’s pizza night and i cannot do it alone.”

the next few hours blur together. you’ve successfully prepared the pizzas with libby and slid them into the oven. now you’re cutting into them and displaying them outside on the table.

it used to be bare, but someone since morning has gone out there to help decorate the backyard to make it just a little flashier. there’s a cloth on the table, which is scattered with candles, flowers, dishes, platters of cookies, fruits, a charcuterie board, and there’s a helpful variety of drinks.

fairy lights blink across the backyard, even over the pool, and it illuminates the whole place. you place the different pizzas in between each candle piece, which libby lights as you do. when you call everyone outside, you join together at the table.

and once theo leads you once again with the ‘i’m grateful for my future wife’ shit, you get to dig in. you’re pretty sure it was longer this time around and even roman started to just eat until he was kicked under the table by drew.

“fucking finally,” libby murmurs under her breath after theo concludes his speech, to which causes him to pick up an olive off the plate and toss it at her. “yeah, you’re so lucky i like olives,” she whispers to herself as she rearranges her napkin, “fucking loser.”

“libby,” you scold, though you can’t hide your laugh. she’s grinning when she looks up, silently laughing with you.

when you turn to drew on the other side of you, he’s taking large bites from his slice. he tilts his head back with a groan, then takes a longer look at the pizza as he chews.

“s’it good?” you ask, and he nods rapidly, and soon his body moves with it. you bring yourself to smile, grateful that people you care about like what you’ve cooked.

you reach over to take your own slice from each pizza and just stack it on your plate, planning on going through them one by one from the one on too being the one you least want to eat, and the last at the bottom being the one you’re most excited for—a ‘save the best for last’ type of thing. it’s silly but you do it anyway.

drew’s finishing up his bite when he leans into you gently. “i have to talk to you later, by the way,” he says, and it sort of startles you because at this point you’re just talking to libby.

you look at him with furrowed brows, but again, you’re not mad. you’re not upset with him. at least not in this moment, you can’t be.

and it looks like he’s grateful because he can see it too. “if that’s alright with you,” he says, then takes another bite. you just nod at him in silence, and watch as he turns back to oscar who’s on his other side before talking to him.

you look straight ahead where roman’s sitting, and he sends you a look. he heard drew talking to you, he knows it must be about something important, but it’s not what’s on your mind right now.

you shrug it off. “—tell you later,” you mouth to him, then turn to libby when you realize she’s talking to you again.

after dinner, gia and leila clean dishes while literally all of the guys clean up outside as a thank you to you and libby, who lay across the living room with bellies filled with food.

there’s a movie playing on tv that you can barely pay attention to, but you’ve been laying there for about an hour so if you really want to, you could. you just play into the laziness that you’re allowed.

you hold your phone above you as libby rolls around the carpet, or at least that’s what you last saw her doing before you looked away. you’re scrolling through texts with your manager as if a new message will come in.

“did elyse get back to you?” libby asks, a face-full of carpet and it sounds like she’s just a few feet away. “about the thing.”

“no,” you mumble, then turn your phone off and set it face-down on the carpet, just like libby. the side of your head is laying on your arm as you look at her. “i could go for another cookie.”

“you ate three!” libby’s muffled voice raises.

“and i’ll make it four,” you tell her, raising your volume back. you consider getting up but don’t feel like it. you can actually lay here forever—maybe.

“y/n,” you hear his voice. it’s drew.

and you get up immediately. he was so softspoken, so cautious with you. he’s entering the house with the other boys who must’ve finished outside, meaning it’s time to have his talk. you almost ask if you guys can just have it there if it’s not that important, but if that’s possible then he wouldn’t be trying to get you alone.

you look over to libby, who—at the sound of drew’s voice—peeked her eyes out to see what he wanted. she looks to you, and she understands why you have to go. she convinces herself to get up and find the remote so she can turn the volume up.

you know it’s for you and drew, and a part of you wants to nudge her or be offended, and you do. is this going to be normal behavior in the house? turning up the volume just for you and drew when you guys need to have these ‘talks’ that are just screaming practice in disguise?

you’re almost embarrassed but you know that you’d rather have this than let them hear you two upstairs.

you follow him to your room, or technically his room as of three nights ago, and he lets you inside first. there’s a chilling feeling when you realize what’s about to happen and you feel like he’s literally about to murder you.

the room is clean, for the most part. you didn’t doubt for a second that he wouldn’t take care of this room regardless if you’re in it or not. his bed isn’t made and his backpack’s on the edge of it, opened and rifled through.

you look to him when you’ve entered, and he nods toward the bed, as if to say he would rather you sit there while you listen to what he has to say, so slowly, you make your way over and settle down on the edge.

drew pulls out a chair from the desk across the bed and turns it around, pushing it closer to you. you’re surprised that he’s doing a whole setup just to talk to you. maybe he really is going to kill you.

“i haven’t been honest at all . . . since we started talking again,” he begins as he sits down in front of you. you stay there and close your mouth. you want to hear what he has to say, even if it ends terribly. you need to hear what he’s been thinking. “so i’d like to tell you everything about this past year if you’re okay with that.”

you shrug and gesture to let him have the floor. “please,” you insist with a nod.

he sighs as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “there’s . . . mila," he starts, and even though you knew this conversation was coming, it still stings when you hear her name.

“i guess you could call it a situationship or whatever,” he says before he catches himself, realizing how that sounds. “i mean, to me, it felt like that. but i think—” he pauses, chewing on his words. “no, she definitely saw it as more. she always viewed it as a relationship.” he glances at you, watching for your reaction, but you just sit there, waiting.

he rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with himself. “we just weren’t on the same page. i was . . . i was using it to distract myself, if i’m being honest. and i know that’s not fair. i knew it even then. but it felt easier than than facing what i was actually feeling at the time.”

he continues, “i told myself it was nothing, but i knew, deep down, it wasn’t fair to her. she didn’t deserve to be strung along like that.”

you feel your chest tighten, but not from jealousy. it’s you knowing that someone else had been hurt in this too, someone who had clearly thought there was more between them. “does she know? about this?” you ask him.

he flinches slightly, as if the concern you’re showing for mila makes this even harder to explain for him. he hesitates, “i officially ended things with her three nights ago. the night you confronted me about her. i told her it was over, that i couldn’t keep pretending things were fine when they weren’t. she didn’t take it well. and honestly, i don’t blame her.”

you’re quiet for a moment—so he’s decided to keep you and him a secret from mila? to spare both his and her feelings? you aren’t sure if you should bring light to it or just push it aside. you did say before that it was ultimately his decision.

“i’m glad you told her,” you say carefully, but there's a pause before you add, "but i can’t imagine how confusing this must be for her.” you shift in your seat, rubbing your palms on your knees. “i mean, from her perspective, this whole thing must feel like it came out of nowhere.”

he swallows hard, nodding. “yeah, it wasn’t fair to her. not at all.”

there’s a beat. he looks at you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. “i told her about you,” he says. he’s quiet, as if he’s afraid of the confession. “i told her that i’m . . . that i’m still not over you. that i don’t think i ever really was.”

what?

you blink, startled by his words, though in a way, you’re not entirely surprised. you’ve felt the tension between you two from the moment you started talking again, but hearing him admit it, finally saying it out loud . . .

his voice is rough, like he’s forcing himself to continue. “but that’s why things with mila were never real. not for me, at least. i kept telling myself i could move on, that i could just forget, but every day i’d realize i wasn’t. i couldn’t let go of you.”

“but you broke up with me, drew,” you remind him. “that doesn’t necessarily sound like you’re in love with me.”

“i didn’t break up with you because i didn’t love you,” he says, his brows furrowed. “i do, more than i’ve ever loved anyone else.” his eyes meet yours briefly before dropping to his hands, which he’s fiddling with in his lap. “like, it was the opposite. i felt like i wasn’t enough for you. like i was failing you.”

you feel your breath hitch in your throat, but you don’t interrupt. you sit up on the bed.

he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he speaks. “our jobs, the schedules, the distance . . . it was tearing us apart, you know? and every day, i’d think about how i wasn’t giving you what you deserved. we were supposed to click, supposed to last, but i felt like i was just holding you back.” his voice is quiet, and he rubs his forehead slowly. “and i couldn’t stand the thought of you waiting for me when i could never give you the time you needed. it was eating me alive.”

you stay quiet, but tears prick at the corners of your eyes. his words hit hard, and you feel like everything that was left unsaid was finally coming to light now—there were arguments that could’ve been avoided, the misunderstandings that built up. he was overthinking, spiraling, and instead of talking to you, he made the decision for both of you.

“and i just kept thinking, like . . . ‘she deserves someone who can be there for her, really be there. someone who can come home to her every night’. i wasn’t that guy. i’d go days without seeing you, weeks even, and it broke me.” he swallows hard again, shaking his head. “i convinced myself that you’d be happier with someone else. someone who wasn’t always on some stupid set, always busy.”

your heart aches as you watch him, his guilt written all over his face. you lean forward and whisper, “but you don’t get to decide that for me, drew. we make decisions together. or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“i know,” he mutters, his tone regretful. “i know that now. but back then, i thought i was doing the right thing. i thought i was . . . protecting you, i guess. from me.”

you shake your head, wiping at the tears that are now falling freely. “protecting me from you? drew, i never, ever wanted anyone else. i wanted you. i didn’t care about the schedules, or the distance. i would’ve waited, and we could’ve figured it out. together.”

his eyes finally meet yours again, and for the first time, you can see the depth of his regret. “when we broke up, i tried. god, i tried to move on. i tried to find something, you know? but i was always looking for you.” he takes a shaky breath. “every girl i met, i’d compare them to you. i’d look for pieces of you in them, trying to find something familiar, something that felt right. but it never worked.”

you knew he had tried to move on, but hearing that he was always searching for you in others, that no one ever compared. it leaves you speechless for a moment. if that’s what happened, then why invest so much time into mila?

you finally gather the courage to ask, “mila. did she . . . was she like me?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but you need to know.

“no,” he admits, shaking his head. “not really. mila was cool, and she’s . . . she’s great in her own way. but no. she wasn’t like you.” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. "but i remember i wanted her to be."

he didn’t try to replace you with mila, but it was clear that he had been searching for something, anything, to fill the void you left behind. and it never worked.

“no one’s ever going to compare to you, y/n,” he continues, “i realize that now. it took me a while, but i’ll always search for you in everyone, and it’s never going to be the same. it’ll never feel the way it felt with you."

for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally getting the truth. the real, unfiltered truth about why things ended the way they did. he wasn’t running because he didn’t care. he was running because he thought he wasn’t enough for you. and now, he’s sitting here, telling you everything he couldn’t say before.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, on the verge of crying. “i’m sorry for walking away. for not talking to you about it when i should’ve. i was scared. scared that i wasn’t enough for you, and scared that i never would be.”

you can feel the tears still lingering in your eyes, but there’s also a strange sense of closure. you’ve needed to hear this for so long, to understand why things fell apart the way they did. and now, you finally do.

“i messed up,” he says, “i messed up everything, and i know it. but i never stopped loving you and i’m . . . i’m still in love with you.”

you stay silent, blinking away the burn in your eyes, trying to absorb what he’s saying. part of you feels relief, but another part of you is cautious. you’ve been hurt before like this. by another and by him.

he watches you closely, and it feels like the longer the silence is, the more anxious he gets. “i know this doesn’t fix anything, and i’m not asking you to forgive me or take me back. i just needed to tell you the truth. i needed you to know that mila . . . ? mila was never you. no one is.”

the room feels too small suddenly, too full of emotions that you don’t know what to do with. you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, but all you can manage to say is, “why now, drew? why are you telling me this now?”

his gaze softens, “because i didn’t want to lose you again. not without you knowing the truth.”

you can only look down at your lap. your vision blurs as you try to focus on your fingers, interlocked and tense in your lap, the pressure in your chest is tightening by the second.

you don’t trust yourself to speak just yet, so you hold everything in, to find the right words, but nothing comes out.

when you finally lift your head to look at him, the tears are already pooling in your eyes. you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from spilling over, but it’s useless. without saying anything, he stands up and pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame.

you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as your face presses into his chest, and it’s like the dam inside you finally breaks. the tears fall freely now, your body shaking as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arms around you—something you’ve missed so desperately.

and it’s not just about the last few days. it’s about the past year of missing him, of pretending you were okay when you weren’t. and you can tell drew needed this too. you can feel it in the way his grip tightens, like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to hold together everything that’s broken between you both.

you stay like that for a long time, the sound of your quiet sobs muffled by his chest, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back as if to soothe the ache inside you. it’s a comfort you haven’t felt in so long, and it is exactly what you’ve needed.

toward the end of it, your face still pressed against his chest, you mumble something, your words half muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he loosens his hold just a little, enough for you to pull back slightly, just enough to breathe. “i . . .” you take a shaky breath, your hands still gripping his arms, and when you finally meet his eyes again, you whisper, “i never stopped loving you either.”

the words hang between you, raw and honest, and as soon as you say them, you see the way his expression softens, like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting to hear.

his lips crash into yours, urgent and insistent. his fingers tighten against the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. his lips coax yours open, deepening the kiss, and he swallows the whimper that escapes you.

his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on the bed. he kisses you like he's been starved of you, his tongue swirling against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your face, your neck, your hair. this is what he’s been waiting to do.

his hands trail down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “stay with me tonight?”

you can’t get enough of him, and although you know that everything can’t be completely fixed over just one conversation, sleeping and waking up in the same bed as him isn’t hurting anyone.

you nod, a soft smile on your face that causes him to grin. but he pulls away slowly hesitating for a moment, his smile growing a little wider as he reaches past you into his backpack, his fingers rummaging around as if he’s searching for something precious.

you watch him, curiosity bubbling inside you. what could he possibly have?

“hold on,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and filled with warmth, and you smile as you press another kiss to his.

finally, he pulls out a book, holding it out toward you with a look of pure joy on his face. you take a look at it but almost don’t even catch it the first time until a second later. your heart skips a beat as you recognize it—the last love letter.

“shut up,” you say, taking it into your own hands to see if it’s real. and of course it is.

he nods, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “i heard you talking about it with the girls before we left earlier,” he explains, but he knows you can tell already that much. there’s a goofy look on his face as he wipes underneath one of his eyes. “i knew how much you wanted it and i saw a copy in town, so . . .”

“no, shut up. i can’t take this,” you exclaim, feeling tears welling in your eyes. “star.” the words spill out, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. it’s not just the gift; it’s the thought behind it that strikes a chord deep within you. you trace the cover with your fingertips as if it’s a treasured artifact.

he watches you intently. “i wanted to,” he assures you. “i heard it, i thought it would mean something to you.”

your gaze shifts from the book to him. “thank you, it does,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you blink out a few more tears.

you set the book aside momentarily, throwing your arms around him once again. the embrace feels like a lifeline. you hold him tightly, your heart racing as you bury your face against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent.

he wraps his arms around you, holding you just as tightly, as if he’s afraid to let go. the world outside fades away, and in this moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, a bubble of intimacy where everything feels right again.

after a long pause, as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, you can see the softness in his eyes. “you really didn’t have to do this,” you say again, looking down at the brand new book. “but it means the world to me that you did.”

he grins, “i know it’s just a book, but i wanted to show you that i’m here—like, really here this time.” and you are so glad he is.

“i missed this,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he closes his eyes for a moment, and you continue to explore the pages of the book, though your thoughts keep drifting back to him. aw you run your fingers through his hair, it dawns on you how much you've missed this—this connection, this easy banter, the comfort of being together.

“i missed us,” you finally admit, looking into his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right again. it all floods back to you.

he shifts slightly, leaning in closer, and his arms slide to wrap around your waist as he lays his head on your shoulder to take a look at your book with you, his voice in relief as he mumbles, “me too.”

and you’re happy, it all just feels like your dream again.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull @lovelylupin04 @ecstqzy @dasguccier

[rqnarok]

old man!logan fucking you with his glasses still on.

cw/tags: smut, mdni! old man!logan. pet names (sweetheart, sugar, etc). slight dumbification. logan calls himself ‘old man’. unprotected p in v. what else? not proofread…

Logan says it’s not his fault.

It’s not him who walks in wearing a new skimpy short sundress while he’s reading today’s newspaper. He isn’t the one who did the teasing by bending over the counter to show him the plump of your ass while you are trying to reach for some ‘ingredients.’

It’s you who pretends to be innocent by humming tunes of your favorite song as you stroll around him with no fucking bra or panties. Casually asking him, “What d’ya want for dinner, Lo?” as if he couldn’t see your peaking nipples through the thin material of the cloth. 

Hell, he did not even understand why you were wearing a sundress at this late hour. No particular reason other than to taunt him—you know that he knows this. 

Only takes him a few minutes before he’s latching to you, still wearing his glasses while bending your upper body onto the kitchen counter, “Little fuckin’ tease. All this shit just f’me, huh?” 

You huff, rolling your eyes to the back of your skull in pleasure when you let yourself be manhandled to the position he wants—spread open; his cock filling your insides so heavenly. 

He hums a throaty sound in your ear, eyes locking to your face to catch your desperate and fucked out expression, “C’mon, princess. Y’were just so confident a minute ago when ya’ teased me.” 

The reminder makes you let out a hiccup, and suddenly feel shy at the intensity of his gaze. Your floral-themed sundress is still on, only hiked up—he wouldn’t let you take it off. After all, its existence is the reason why his large chest is pressed on your back.

“Such a shy doll, arentcha’?” He straightened himself after you tilted your head to the other side—curses when he felt you squeezing your walls tighter around his girth.

Every drag of his cock back into your pussy pushes more and more high-pitched whines from you. Logan rumbles in a pleased groan as he lurks forward again—leaving open-mouthed kisses on your jaw—scratching his scruffy beard on your skin, “Such a good girl. Nothin’ else could make me cum, baby. Nothin’ else but this fuck- tight pussy. What did I do to get so lucky, huh?”

“Ah- Logan!” Your nails scratch the cold marble tile as you feel the world around you change into a warm, fuzzy state. All you could feel was him surrounding you, fastening his already cruel pace.

Your mewls mingle with the thwap-thwap-thwap sounds of skin slappings, its noise radiates obscenity along with the scene it shows.

“Makes me feel guilty as an old man,” Logan shivers, hissing at the warm heat he’s got himself all in, “Fuckin’ a sweet, beautiful thing like ya’.”

Logan slides one of his large palms on the globes of your ass before grabbing them and delivering a soft spank to your skin. Like a wake-up call, you twist your head back slightly to look at the sight of him.

His blue shirt is unbuttoned to down, his eyes closing and brows furrowed as he chases yours and his own ecstasy. You wonder how his glasses still rest on the tip of his nose after everything. 

Maybe because you’re the one moving, not him. His hands grip your waist as he moves you back and forth on his cock. Shifting you around like a flashlight, never pulling out his flaccid member as his cockhead breaches deep into your velvet walls you never knew was even possible, “Jus’ wan’ me to use you around, ‘s that it?” 

You ramble a string of yesyesyes’s as a reply to Logan’s taunts, your head empty and unable to form any thought except of him. “Y-yeah, sugar. I know. I know.” 

As you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, your hands skulk backward to reach him, to feel him and bring him closer, “Ah- Gimme kiss, pleas—” You squeak after the lingering ah-ah-ahs. 

Good Lord. Logan lets out a dry chuckle to mock at your utter eagerness for him–but in the end, he gives in too. He always gives in. 

His mouth is on yours in a wet kiss, all filthy as he eats up all your whimpers and moans, “Dirty girl. Makin’ me feel s’good.”  

Your legs barely touch the floor as he continues to elevate you up and down in hard thrusts, hitting your sensitive spots, “Shit. Want me to come in you, petal?” His voice a cadence deeper, “Let ya’ feel me for days?” 

You can only reply in erratic nods before shutting your eyes to embrace your own pleasure building, peaking, and—

“F-fuck, sweetheart.” Thick ropes of Logan’s cum are pumped into you as you squirt around him shamelessly—his cock thrusting and thrusting, letting you feel his warmth. 

He begins to slow down his movements as you milk him dry. You whine at the feel of yours and his cum all mixed up, gushing out of your dripping hole. A filthy image. 

“L-Logan...” You can only call out his name after your feet touch the floor, out of breath and still needy. 

As if he understands, Logan rests his head on your neck and leans half of his body weight onto yours out of tiredness, “Mhm. Yeah, gonna fuck you again, sweet girl.” 

His lips locked into yours in urgency, then breaking it just to smile at you while readjusting his glasses, “Let your old man catch his breath first, alright?”

You bob up in down in excitement. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. He knows what he’s getting himself into ever since he knew you—that he has to keep up with your endless immature teasing and your remarkably high stamina.

Even with his muscles weakening and body aching the next day, he thinks it’s all worth it.

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ INKED. featuring s. geto.

↻ geto enjoys his job for this exact reason… he gets to give pretty girls like you your first ever tattoo.

tags : tattoos, slight masochism, dirty thoughts, suggestive actions, possessive behaviour, tattoo artist x florist trope, voice kink, dirty talk, praise kink, latex kink (if you squint), implied fingering, marking (literally and figuratively), implied virgin!reader, slight dubcon // wc. 1.1k

author's note : the longest one of the series… and possibly the longest author’s note too. i want to thank everyone who’s supported me throughout this event from the day i released the masterlist all the way up until the last work today!! i know i’ve said that every one of these have been my favourite but why not save the best ‘til last… this very specific image of geto haunts my (wet) dreams 🤤🤤 thank you again for all the support, because of you guys, i managed to go from 200 to over 900 followers !! 💓💓 i can’t thank you more, and i hope you enjoy this last work. this has been luna, and thank you for reading!!

pspsps …. you might want to stick around for my upcoming kinktober. it’s going to be a thriller…

“i would’ve never striked you as the type to want a tattoo, sweetie.” GETO looks at you over the frame of his glasses, eyebrow quirked as he confirms your appointment on his laptop. “and especially not one of this… calibre. is it your first time?”

you nod shyly, eyes averting from his gaze. he looks at the sheet of paper with your desired design on it, and the corners of his lips quirk upwards. a tramp stamp. totally not your type upon first glance. 

he’s looking forward to this. 

you’re a sweet enough girl. you wear denim miniskirts and baggy floral t-shirts, and your face is almost always bare, save for a few coats of mascara on your eyelashes and the occasional touch of lip gloss to make your features pop. you work in the flower shop across the street, and the only way geto can describe you is cute, and definitely not the type to want such a striking design tattooed on your lower back. it’s in such an intimate position, and he can’t help but feel a tiny bit jealous for the lucky fucker who gets to run their hands all over it whilst he-

“it’s not too… extreme, is it?” you bite your lip nervously. “my friends told me that i should do something out of my comfort zone, so…”

he tears his eyes away from the sheet of paper to look up at you kindly. “it’s beautiful. come this way, we’ll get started now.”

“since it’s your first time, i’ll try to take things slow.” you’re lying flat on your front on the table, skirt pulled down an inch and shirt riding up your stomach. geto stands beside you, rolling up his sleeves and donning his latex gloves before prepping the stencil. 

you have such pretty skin, he notes. beautiful and untouched, with such a pretty arch in your spine. he would’ve loved to imagine you positioned like this in different circumstances, but for now, he’s your tattoo artist and you’re his client, so his job is to make you feel as comfortable as possible. 

so, to soothe your nerves, he runs his latex-clad fingers along the arch in your spine, splaying his hands across your lower back and smiling when he feels you shiver as a disinfectant wipe comes into contact with your skin. 

“i’m just prepping the skin, and then i’ll transfer the stencil. it’ll feel a little cold at first, but hopefully it’ll help calm all those pesky nerves. does that sound alright?” you nod. “good girl.”

shit. it just slipped out, the praise, but then he notices that your muscles start to relax. you like praise. good to know, for next time. 

time seems to pass slowly as geto works his magic, plastering the stencil onto your lower back. it’s affecting him, your reactions, and when he finally reveals the potential placement of your totally out-of-character tramp stamp, he has to physically restrain himself from groaning out loud. 

the placement — it’s fucking dirty. 

geto decides to check up with you before finally starting to prep his equipment. “are you sure about this? it’s your first time, so it might hurt.” he chuckles lightly. “scrap that. it will hurt, but i’ll try to make it quick so that you feel the least amount of pain as possible.”

“i…” your voice dies in your throat when you feel his fingers trace the outline of your preeminent tattoo. “ ‘m a bit nervous. never done this before.”

“mm, i know, angel. you have such a beautiful body… i’d be honoured to mark it up some more next time.”

oh. you know (read: think) there’s no underlying intent to his words, but the way his honeyed voice purrs behind you has a stream of wetness start to build inside of you, and you try to discreetly clench your thighs to quell the dull ache in between your legs, praying that geto doesn’t notice. 

he does. if he wasn’t mistaken, this might just be your kink: being left merciless whilst someone toys with your body. he doesn’t overstep though, just teases, running his hands along your bare legs. “how about here next time? i could ink a pretty little flower on your ankle, or maybe some initials… yours, of course.”

geto rathers he mark his initials on your ankle, but again, boundaries. to stop himself from saying anything that’ll have you bolting out of the studio in a millisecond, he finally sits in his chair, picking up the needle and scooting towards you. “are you ready, sweetheart? this is going to hurt, so tell me if you want me to let up at any time.”

you won’t. he knows you won’t, because the feeling of his fingers on your skin is intoxicating for you given the way your toes begin to curl in your flats as he steadies his hands on your lower back. “relax, love. it’ll hurt less.”

the needle pierces your skin, ink blooming as geto begins his work. the feeling… it’s strange, given the fact that it’s quite literally repeated pinpricks on your back. but it feels strangely good paired with geto’s hands on your back, and his smooth voice praising you all the way through. 

“oh, you’re doing such a good job for your first time, love. i’ve never seen anyone react so well.”

“does it feel alright? wouldn’t want to cause any harm to this precious body of yours.”

“i’m almost finished. you’ve been such a good client, i wouldn’t mind inking you again.”

all of it goes straight to your head, and the pain of the needle is replaced with instant euphoria as your mind fills with lewd images of geto fucking you in this exact position, hands on your lower back in the same way as he eases inside of you. and his voice, good lord, his voice… he would totally talk you through it, his rich grumble echoing in your ear as he guides you to orgasm. 

“you’re taking it so well, aren’t you, baby? that’s my good girl.”

“fuck yes, angel, just like that… oh, you’re so damn perfect.”

“you’re close? cum for me, baby. need to feel you, atta girl…”

before you know it, a moan slips from your lips, and you immediately dread geto’s reaction. 

“did you just…?”

your cheeks are on fire. “n-no! sorry, it hurt a little bit there. i should be fine though, you can keep going.” 

he quirks an eyebrow. “well then, the fault is mine entirely. allow me to make it up to you? i’d feel horrible for hurting you, after all.”

your slight nod is all he needs and suddenly he’s finishing up and wrapping your tramp stamp before prying your thighs apart and slipping his latex-clad fingers into your dripping panties. 

PREVIOUS : SWEET TALK ft. choso NEXT : N/A

liked that? check out the WE’RE SO BACK masterlist.

© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission. chain divider by @/cafekitsune.

[ctghost]

okokok i can't stop thinking about @yan-randomfandom 's godling fic so here's some drabbles on ford's thoughts.. this can be some sort of continuation of this! (P.s i hope i'm not bothering by tagging you jdkdkrjk 😭😭)

part 1 part 2

visualization that inspired me

"Well i'll see you later, pines, until then!"

Ford wakes up.

You really aren't just a piece of his dream. But he can't just believe fact that you aren't bill. Second dimensional, wearing a bowtie, and all that. Who would know if he could just be wearing some sort of bizarre skin?

But then he starts thinking what you just called him. Pines. Bill never called him that. All his years studying and time with bill, he had never heard anything about a deity like you. Could you possibly be from the same dimension as bill? If so, wouldn't that mean you're bill's ally? That's got to be the only logical reason here. You're likely trying to trick him to be able to make a deal with you. Well that sure isn't gonna work now.

But he had to be sure.. maybe this night he'll try to get some answers out of you.

-

"You're not here to make a deal, are you?"

"Deals aren't my forte,"

"I do wishes."

-

"Is that so? Well then, how many wishes?"

"One." His eyebrows furrowed at that. "Bill-"

"I am not Bill Cipher."

-

"You could use your wish to help me gain my memories back, or you could use it for yourself, it's your choice, really."

After a little more talk, he knows now that you are likely not lying, and that really don't have any recollections of your own past, and even your name. Still, he couldn't just trust you. Everyone knows what happened the last time that happens. Maybe he'll try to ask more questions later, he still needs to fish out as many answers as he could get.

But you probably even don't have much to give anyway, since all your replies are just "i don't know" or "i don't remember". He became slightly frustrated at your lack of vary answers, but guess he should appreciate you not trying to twist any truth there is.

Back in the mindscape, Ford's deep in his thoughts as he observes you moving around almost boredly. There's just so many questions.

If he really used his wish to get your memories back, would you be indebt to him? Or would you try to burn the world down just like bill?

He let out a small sigh, but soon a realization hit him, You can read his mind. If bill has that power, you could do the same-

He suddenly jumped, alarmed. You paused what you were doing and looked at him. "You alright there, pines?"

He was about to retaliate- but seeing your almost sincere and confused look on just a singular eye, he calms down abit from his overthinking. Just because you have similiar physical traits, you're not bill. Atleast not as far as he knows now with your memory loss.

You can't hurt him. Not in the mindscape anyway.

"I'm fine." He finally replied, after seeing that you were still staring at him.

He should probably start investigating to see if there's anything out there that could tell him more about you.

-

Aka, ford keeps comparing you to his ex muse after first few meetings

[smashing-teacups]

My very dear friend (who is so grumpy that J&C hijacked her brain again when she wanted a break 🤣) @theawkwardterrier tagged me in an invite to share a section of one of my WIPs. So hey, how about a peek at an upcoming chapter of Atonement? 👀

______

In the second month, they began their respective job searches in earnest.

On that particular front, Claire had an undeniable advantage: there was a terrible nursing shortage throughout the UK, and more job postings than she knew what to do with. She had enough experience to be accepted at practically every bedside position, and so she had the ability to be selective.

A very fortunate state to find herself in, she found out rather quickly, as there were a number of positions that… well, positions she wasn’t sure she would be best suited for anymore.

Wound care, for example, was definitely out. Just reading the vague clinical expectations under the first post made her snap her laptop shut, her skin chilled and mind numb. She held Jamie from behind later that night, tears soaking her pillow as she traced the scars that had once been open flesh. The memories were as vivid as if she were living them all over again; she could see the snake of saturated pink gauze she’d pulled out of his back by the meter, watch her gloved hand depress a syringe of morphine into his IV, hear her own murmurs of reassurance as she reached wrist-deep into the cavernous wounds to begin packing them again…

So, no. Nothing with wound care.

Anything on a neurology floor was likewise out of the question. The prospect of monitoring an EEG took her right back to the endless days and nights when those incomprehensible squiggling lines were burned into her retinas, watching for any change that might signify a seizure. The ICUs in general were out for that same reason. Just the sounds alone — the non-stop beeping of monitors and IVs, the whoosh of the ventilator and hiss of suction equipment—

She couldn’t.

Her damned glass face as she scrolled the job boards must have told her husband far more than she ever would have said aloud; it didn’t take long before she woke to find a folded newspaper on the kitchen table alongside her morning coffee. Circled once, with a question mark beside it, was an advertisement from a local primary care office in town, seeking a clinic nurse.

Claire looked over the top of the paper to find Jamie watching her apprehensively, as though unsure if he’d overstepped. The moment she caught his eye, he dropped his gaze and blew on his steaming coffee. “It’d be quieter than ye’re used to,” he said around a careful sip, “but somethin’ to consider, mebbe.”

Softening with tenderness, she reached for his hand across the table. “No, it’s—it’s a good thought. Thank you. Maybe I need the quiet, I don’t know.” With a sigh, she smoothed her free hand over her face and back into her hair. “That’s just it, I don’t… I don’t know what it is I want any more.” Peering up at her husband through her lashes, she admitted with a self-deprecating smile, “Suppose I’ve just been hoping I’ll know it when I see it.”

Returning the smile so that his soft morning eyes crinkled with it, Jamie brought her knuckles to his lips. “I’m sure you will. The right job’ll find ye when it’s meant to, Sassenach. I know it.”

[muffinsin]

can I add to the request of the sisters jealousy? When you have time and if you want. If the sisters had girlfriends, how would their jealousy be, especially if like the girlfriend is best bros with the other two sisters

Headed back on home today :/, but it was a real nice time!! :) have a lil post; imma be on a looooong flight in a bit haha

Absolutely :)! Here’s the first/original jealousy post🙌

Let’s get into it :)!

Masterlists

Bela

Bela prides herself on being the eldest. The smartest

The strong, powerful, cool-headed one

The unbothered one

She insists, she doesn’t get jealous

And she doesn’t, usually

Even should a maid be foolish enough to bat her eyes at you and make advances, Bela becomes possessive, rather than jealous

She figures, she has no reason to be jealous at all

However, all this seems to change entirely when it’s about her sisters

Now, she trusts you, and her sisters

However…

She is more than just a little jealous when you’re with her younger sisters, especially Daniela

She knows, the youngest Dimitrescu is naturally flirty

And still, it rubs her the wrong way when Daniela is equally flirty and playful around you

Being so very touchy and clingy doesn’t help her case, certainly

As such, Bela often snarls at her younger sister, commanding her to back off when she talks to you and is nearly sat on your lap

Daniela, while backing off when snarled at or scolded, is rather oblivious of her touchiness

As such, she continues, slowly driving her older sister to insanity, it seems

With Cassandra, at least, her jealousy is lessened

Cassandra is far less playful and flirty than the redhead

And still, Bela can’t help the jealousy regarding her younger sister

It’s less your relationship with her, really

Instead, more of Cassandra’s relationship with all others

Despite herself, your girlfriend can’t help but feel worried you might end up liking Cassandra better than her

Thankfully, some words of encouragement and kisses of reassurance have these thoughts disappear again

Bela’s yours, and you are hers

And nothing makes her happier

Cassandra

Would Cassandra consider herself a jealous person?

Well, perhaps if she wasn’t so prideful, too

You know better

She’s incredibly jealous and possessive as it comes to the maidens

Constantly, one poor woman after the other is dragged to the castle’s basements

Torture and pain await all who dare bat their eyes at you

With her sisters, it’s a bit of a different story

Now, she doesn’t get jealous or possessive in a way of fearing they might try to seduce you

Never that, she knows

Even as Daniela is playful and flirty, she knows her younger sister would never go after you, even if a small crush is there at times

And even with how unusually kind and polite Bela is regarding you, Cassandra knows there is no flirtatious intent behind it

No, your girlfriend isn’t at all worried about her sisters potentially having eyes on her

Though, Cassandra does get jealous regarding other things

Despite what one might think- and what she insists- she can be quite clingy

She wants your attention

And, perhaps even more, she wants to be the only one you pay attention to

As such, she’s easily annoyed when you’re with her sisters

She gets even more annoyed when you ask her where to find one of her sisters

The longer you’re with them, the more annoyed and jealous she gets

She just wants to be with you!

And yet her sisters often snatch you away

It irritates her like nothing else. Especially if it’s for stupid reasons!

As such, she’ll roll her eyes and whine dramatically when you tell her you’re meeting up with Daniela to read

Sometimes, you invite her to tag along, but she usually refuses

She cares little for the activities her sisters do with you

And while she’s quite jealous, you can’t help but enjoy it

After all, she gets uncharacteristically clingy after, staying on top of you in bed and demanding you trace shapes along her spine

You love being with her

Daniela

Out of the three sisters, Daniela gets the most jealous

She can’t help it, really

Of course, her jealousy shows the most as it comes to staff members and so on

“Disposables”, as she likes to call them

A single pang of jealousy could cause the death or torment of one of them, easily

Even if you try to stay away from them

They seem to always strike a nerve within your girlfriend

And, at times, Daniela’s older sisters are little to no different

She feels bad for feeling such jealousy though. At least at times

Naturally, she feels a little envious of her older sisters

Like Bela’s intellect and beauty…

She fears, in the time you spend with her, you might also notice her beautiful, near-golden hair, her intellect and the noble manner that is similar to their Mother’s even

She winces at the thoughts

Due to this, she often interrupts the rare times you spend with her eldest sister

Sometimes, she does so by spontaneously joining you

Often even slotting herself between the two of you

At other times, a more bold manoeuvre

She simply pulls you away to spend time with her

And only her

When finding you with Cassandra, almost another type of jealousy bubbles up within her

Firstly, an almost primal type of jealousy, aimed at you

It’s just that Cassandra and her have always been a team

As such, she can’t help but feel jealous when you begin to get along well with her sister

On the other hand, she knows of her Playgirl-like-reputation, and does not want you to become a part of just that

Often, Daniela feels a little more tense when you spend time with her sister

Really, she knows she would never do anything with you out of respect for her

Still, she can’t help but growl a little at times

She insists, she’s working on it

[lemon-russ]

Your lion fic was beautiful. May I request more? Anything will do really. But here are my requests.

Lion angrily jerking it after experiencing one (1) emotion

Lion aggressively cuddling you. You're not hurt or sick or have lost feeling in your lower body temporarily, he just wants to be close to you. And be an ass about it.

You wear his legion colours/symbols and he gets really horny.

40k Lion reminiscing about an old lover from 30k (using that term loosely, they were probably just fuck buddies) and maybe they meet again in 40k. Let's say a perpetual reader.

Anyway these are just my brainworms. Feel free to ignore.

And yes, I am aware I have a thing for stoic men losing it and being absolute freaks. I am currently in search for a good therapist.

Sorry for the delay, but I feel adjacent to a human today, so I finally finished this! Also the way you presented it made me snort laugh haha, the kind message into "angrily jerking it" lmfao

Anyway here's The Lion straight jorkin' it (I like all your suggestions and might come back to the colors one especially!)

Tags: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye @lisikk

Thanks @squishyowl for the dividers!

Lion El'Jonson X Fem!Reader

CW: Lion straight up jorkin' it. That's all.

Stupid woman, Lion thought, slamming his chamber doors closed.

He started angrily undoing the belt of his tunic as he marched to his bed, fingers frustratingly fumbling the latch in a hurry.

Stupid, infuriating woman.

Guilliman had sent a representative to give The Lion updates about some missions the Ultramarines had been on, just the average doldrum of war talk. But the representative he sent was his little Ambassador pet.

“My Lord?” You had said, looking up at him between explaining supply lines, “You seem very tired. Did you not rest well?”

He’d been shocked by the simple question. He had indeed been without a proper rest for a bit too long. But, no one ever asked such things about him. He was a god to most baselines, infallible and untiring, beyond mortal needs. But you spent a majority of your time around his brother, so of course you could read him better than a random serf could. And you’d been… concerned. For him.

“Wh- I…” he had stuttered, caught off guard. That annoyed him. Being flustered by a tiny baseline woman’s concern for him annoyed him. The pang of unnameable emotion that shot through him annoyed him. The sudden pulse of pressure below his stomach, especially annoyed him.

“Don’t be daft woman-” he had spat back. You’d just smiled softly at the verbal attack, soft eyes scanning his face, studying the circles forming under his eyes. Then for some warp damned reason, you had gone and made him a cup of recaff. You placed it in front of the flabbergasted Primarch and returned to explaining your papers like nothing had passed.

Stupid woman.

The minute you’d given him a quick aquillan salute and been on your way out the door, He had turned on his heel and stormed off to his quarters, leaving confused serfs in his wake as he pushed them aside, some even falling to the floor. “No one disturb me.” He had growled, stalling their pursuit of him.

He finally pulled his pants down, holding his tunic aside as he knelt on his bed. That feeling that you had invoked in him had shot right between his legs. The whole rest of the meeting, he was struggling to focus on anything but how hard you had made him.

He grasped himself, groaning at the friction at last as he stroked. Your image assaulted his mind. You leaning over the table just enough that he could see down the far too loose tunic dress you wore. He growled remembering that glimpse of your breasts, infuriatingly framed in ultramarine blue. It should have been HIS colors.

He grasped himself tighter as he assailed his aching cock, falling back on his pillows. It should be Dark Angels green you were in. No- it should be nothing at all. You should be naked in his bed. You should be panting in his lap-

His hips bucked himself fruitlessly into his hand at the image. Your sweet face, flush and gasping as you rode him. Did you look at Guilliman the way you’d looked up at him? Did you fetch him drinks when you noticed he was worn? The thought enraged The Lion. How dare you go back to the Macragge’s Honour, back to anywhere but his bed.

He gripped the sheets, yanking at his tunic as he frustratedly picked up speed, ignoring the slight soreness from his calloused palm attacking his cock without anything to help the friction. It wouldn’t be an issue if it was you on him instead. He bet you were plenty slick, and tight-

He felt his balls start to tighten, drawing in a hissing, ragged gasp through grit teeth. His bed creaked with the cadence of his hips jerking up into his fist. You should be here. You should be wrapped around him, holding on for your life as he used you like a cocksleeve- he imagined your small hands splayed over his stomach for balance, trying desperately to hold yourself down against his bouncing.

He fisted his cock faster, frustrated by the sub-par sensation of his own rough skin, barely slicked with his pre-cum as he drove himself forcefully toward an orgasm. He was frustrated he’d immediately given in to such base instincts. He was Frustrated you could drive him to this with one little question, with one sweet look.

His mind flooded with the image of you giving him that little smile, eyes soft and concerned in defiance of his sharp words-

He let out a snarl as the heat in him snapped, shooting his spend over his stomach in jerking pulses. A few more hard pumps on his cock drained him, shuddering and mind blank, before he collapsed back on the bed, legs shaking and ragged gasps wracking his lungs.

He lay panting, covered in his own seed, twitching his hips up in the aftershocks. This was your fault. You stupid, damnable woman.

He groaned and let his arm fall to his side as the sensations eased from his need-drunk mind.

He had a very stern demand to draft. If his brother wanted him to keep playing nice- which he had been, he’d been very cooperative he thought, he earned some credit- If Guilliman wanted Lion to keep his word about their plans and supplies and defenses-

Then the cost was merely one insignificant little diplomat woman.

[hypnoneghoul]

The Ashes Call My Name

WC: 5k

Relationship: Rain/Everyone (Rain/Dewdrop, Rain/Mountain)

Tags: Ehlers-Danlos Rain, POTS Rain, Mobility Aids, Anxiety, Self-Esteem Issues, References to Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Implied Anger Issues

He has been ignoring things for far too long and he can’t do that anymore. Or. Rain gets mobility aids and has a lot of thoughts and feelings about that.

Notes: Commission for @everybodyshusband :3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

The box is ridiculously huge.

Couldn’t they have…folded them? Or get a box that is not going to be more than half empty? It’s a whole business, is it not? Can’t they get custom size boxes for their products?

Rain is stalling; thinking about everything and anything except what actually is inside said box. Besides the air and foil. He does not want to think about it, he just wants to ignore it all.

But he can not.

He has been ignoring things for far too long and he can’t do that anymore.

He can do it—he tries to tell himself—but these simple things seem so big and so scary to him right now; and he’s not even regressed.

Rain’s pack knew this was not going to be easy for him and they all offered their support—whatever he might need. The water ghoul shut the door, though, wanting space, and now he is all alone with the monster that his new mobility aids are.

Two pairs of crutches—one full size in classic black and one small version for when he’s small; these are a glittery purple. Apart from that there is also a simple foldable cane in there—also black. Aether, Swiss and Dewdrop decided he needed to have options; they were the ones to place the order. Zephyr and Omega have also been consulted so that Rain would get what is best.

And now the best is here and Rain is a fucking cunt.

After a while he growls at himself in his mind and with his jaw clenched pulls the mobility aids out of the box. One by one he unwraps all the foil from around them and removes the additional protection before finally being able to take a look at them. 

They are not ugly, his pack did good in case of picking the style—they know Rain better than he knows himself. But it’s not about that.

It’s about what they mean, how they are going to become a big part of his everyday life. Well, how they are supposed to become a big part of his everyday life.

Rain is scared—he has been since his initial diagnosis; just a few months after he has been summoned. He thought it was normal to be in pain Topside, but after a heart-to-heart with Aether he found out it is very much not. The other quintessence ghoul—Omega—examined him and explained that sometimes summonings go wrong and the ghoul comes out…well, wrong. In Rain’s case his body is a little loose where it’s not supposed to be and that leads to him having a plethora of issues.

He thought he had accepted his fate long ago—after a lot of mental breakdowns—but now when it has become so bad he is all but being forced to use mobility aids, he realizes he has not truly accepted anything about it.

He's a ghoul, for Satan's sake—an immortal demon. How and why is he broken?

Logically he knows the…science behind it, but he has never managed to find an answer to ‘why’? Why him?

Of course, if Rain was presented with a choice of transferring his pain to someone else he would never do so. Being essentially stuck in one's own body—something that is supposed to be theirs only to have control over—and being forced to have one's life restricted just for that reason is…well, awful.

Rain is mean quite often, but he would never even joke about that.

He doesn't even have the energy to be mean now. Not to himself, not to the mobility aids, not his to his pack and not to the entire fucking world. The water ghoul is just tired and it is hard for him to see a point in trying harder.

Even if…try harder to do what? Omega told him there is nothing to be done for him. He is only going to be getting worse year by year. The pain is never going to go away.

Rain does not remember what it means to be pain-free, anymore.

What did it come to?

Maybe Rain should just go back to the Pit—beg to be sent back. It would fix him, issues like his do not exist down there. It’s not like he is very useful Topside, and he will only be becoming more of a burden.

The water ghoul wonders if his pack would understand if he made that choice. If his wish would even have a chance of being granted, or if he would have to take the matters into his own hands.

Traumatizing his family is not his goal, though, so he would rather not have to.

It's hours after the water ghoul has opened the package when he finally decides to try his new mobility aids out.

He gets up and kicks some thrash under his bed and desk to make a path to walk through. He goes for the cane first and it's not long before Rain can’t hold back his tears. He can’t even walk with it properly—at least he thinks so—it doesn’t feel right. It feels wrong.

His eyes sting to a point of pain, but he realizes he doesn’t care. No one is there to witness the pathetic image of him like this, anyway. The water ghoul lets the tears flow as he clumsily walks around his room, trying to think positively, trying to look for some benefits of this situation.

Rain finds none, there is no relief as he uses the cane. His cane.

But he carries on for a while longer—until the tears dry on his cheeks and more does not follow, until his entire body is sore from walking and crying and all the stress.

He tries the crutches, too, for a short moment, but they are even more overwhelming.

Rain goes to bed early, after throwing the damned things under his bed with as much force as he could muster up—hoping they would break. He knows it wouldn’t change much; the pack would get him another pair, not minding the money. Rain can’t do that to them, though, they do not get paid enough for that. 

He grabs his phone for his usual pre-sleep doom scrolling. He finds a few messages from the pack, but doesn’t cheer much when he sees that it is even more motivational TikTok videos about how mobility aids are exactly that—aids—and they should not be seen as a burden, but rather a tool to help one live their life more fully. Logically, Rain knows that is true and he is all in for people using mobility aids of all kind, but…well, people. Humans.

Not a ghoul.

Not him.

He turns his phone off after a few minutes and wraps himself up in his comforter—he has to change the position after a moment, though, because his bent elbows start to hurt. He closes his eyes and wishes to wake up in a better world, where all this is nothing more than a cruel dream.

Rain wakes up in pain. Of course he does—that is not new.

What is new is the pain in his hands, though. When he wakes up enough to think clearly, he realizes the cause and gets even more angry about the whole thing.

Weren’t mobility aids supposed to be helpful? How is trading the pain in his legs for the pain in his arms fair? As a bassist he needs his arms painless even more than his legs, does he not?

He makes his way down to the common room just for a second—to grab a quick snack that could count for breakfast and then return to his room to wallow in his misery. 

The next time Rain leaves it it is for dinner that he spends half-dissociated. He does not remember moving to the couch, but he finds himself curled up in its corner, wrapped in a big crocheted blanket made by Cumulus.

„What’s got you so lost in thought, fish boy?” Dewdrop’s voice snaps Rain out of it. He didn’t even notice him coming over and the fire ghoul is already sitting comfortably on the couch next to him.

“Huh? Oh–uh, nothing important,” Rain replies, shrugging and starting to worry his bottom lip between his fangs. “What’s up with you?”

Dewdrop does not answer him, not right away; he stares deep into the other’s eyes without blinking for a few moments. His own amber ones are piercing and Rain finds himself desperate for an escape, but there is none—not from Dewdrop.

“Are you alright?” the fire ghoul finally asks.

And despite wanting to say ‘yes’ so badly, Rain can not lie so outwardly. Not to him. “Yes? No? I don’t know?”

The fire ghoul hums in acknowledgement and without a word stands up. Rain watches with furrowed brows as Dewdrop disappears into the kitchen. He comes out a moment later with a literal armful of snacks and drinks—despite having eaten dinner less than half an hour ago—making Rain chuckle at how comical the image is.

“Droplet, what are you doing?” he asks.

“We are watching a movie,” Dewdrop informs him before dropping his cargo onto the couch next to Rain. He grabs the TV remote next and one more fluffy blanket out of their blanket basket before flopping down by his mate himself.

The water ghoul, of course, does not protest when Dewdrop shuffles in as close to him as possible and curls up against his chest—all warm and purring. It’s extremely cozy and Rain is so grateful for Dewdrop’s method of comforting his mates. He is not great when it comes to talking about one’s feelings, but he sure does know how to distract and cheer someone up.

“What do you want to watch?” he asks and Rain could just about melt over his voice vibrating as he does not pause his purring.

“Uhm…something funny. Like–I want my stomach to hurt from laughing, you know?”

“I’ve got just the thing.” Dewdrop grins and pokes out his tongue as he looks for the movie and then puts it on. For a while Rain stares only at him, ignoring the TV, and all the thoughts from earlier come back, nagging at him.

Dewdrop is so good to him, always taking care of him so well, but it’s just…unfair. Rain should take care of him, too, but he does not and he is only going to become more needy and less able to return the favor.

Surely, the fire ghoul will grow tired of him and turn to someone else, to someone who can give him what he needs whenever he needs it, not only when they are feeling good.

He can’t even–how would he even carry his own bass if he has to walk with the crutches? They will make him even more useless than he is now, he can endure the pain if it makes him less of a burden.

Rain is sick of himself.

Dewdrop shaking against him makes the water ghoul’s head snap in his direction; afraid that he has unknowingly—somehow—made his mate cry. Thankfully he’s only laughing and Rain fakes his own so it’s not so obvious he was zoned out again.

He takes a few deep breaths and focuses on Dewdrop’s warmth, the vibration of his purr, and the movie. It actually is hilarious, the fire ghoul made a great choice. He grabs Rain hand at some point and does not let it go until the movie ends, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the water ghoul’s pale skin.

When the first movie ends and more than a half of their snacks are devoured, Dewdrop puts on another one before Rain could protest. He wasn’t going to, either way, though.

The fire ghoul does not speak much as they watch, but when the second movie ends and he is about to put on the third, he turns to Rain. He gets real close and kisses him between the horns, then on the tip of his nose, and then on the lips, before whispering straight into his mouth, “You know I would go around the whole world carrying you on my back if that would be your wish?”

It punches the air out of Rain’s lungs a little and he feels the need to say it would never happen, that he would not ever demand anything as insane of his mate, that Dewdrop can not actually mean it, but—but the fire burning in his eyes is so bright and pure, Rain can do nothing else but nod in acknowledgement.

“I love you, too, but–" Rain sighs, “what if it’s going to get so much worse and–and I’ll become fully dependent on you, I–I couldn’t ever put that on you…”

“Hey, you’re not ‘putting anything on me’,” Dewdrop says, making air quotes as he does. “You’re my mate and I love you and you can’t get rid of me now even if you tried. I’m not going anywhere, whatever happens. I thought I made that clear years ago.”

“You did,” Rain chuckles sadly. The reassurance is nice, but…the fear of making his mate end up miserable and unfulfilled because of some stupid promise he made a long time ago will not go away anytime soon. “Thank you.”

“I enjoy taking care of you, Rainy,” Dewdrop kisses him once again, holding the water ghoul’s face between his hands like the most precious thing. “I don’t mind  if that’s the only thing I get to do for the rest of my life. No matter what, the only thing I need to be the happiest ghoul ever is you by my side, alright? No matter if you can or can’t walk.”

Rain is the one to pull his mate into another kiss, closing his eyes and the distance between them before Dewdrop can see the tears in his eyes. He knows, though—of course he does—and he understands. When they pull away the fire ghoul immediately turns away to snuggle back into Rain’s chest and starts their third movie of the evening. Rain sniffles for a while over his head and is grateful to be ignored. The stupid comedy Dewdrop picked makes him genuinely laugh soon enough.

He does not know at which point he fell asleep, but he wakes up still on the common room couch with their last movie paused at the end. Dewdrop is glued to him, half purring, half snoring.

Rain smiles as his chest warms at the adorable sight of his mate. He adjusts his position before taking one of Dewdrop’s hands into his own and closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

The next time Rain wakes up he is alone, but there is a note next to him. The fire ghoul left to start his chores early—he always does that to have the second half of the day to himself and his pack.

The water ghoul gets himself up and into the kitchen first. He grabs a light breakfast and only then goes back to his room to get ready for his own chores—which are not very urgent or even important.

As he is about to leave his mood sours. His mobility aids are set by the door and all but mocking him.

Rain decides to take half a step towards him winning.

He takes the crutches with him, but only into his hand. He can carry them around most of the day and maybe try to actually use them when his legs get tired.

It’s not a bad plan and he is not even overthinking for the first few hours; it starts only when Rain’s hips start acting up.

An hour more and the water ghoul decides he is done for the day and—and to walk back to the den on the crutches. It’s not going terribly—he is walking with his jaw clenched, trying to focus—but it is not going great, either. He keeps stumbling and tripping and losing the rhythm. His arms start to hurt, too.

The stairs turn out to be his demise, though.

It’s just a few steps—barely a staircase, but it wins that fight.

Rain stumbles on the second step and one of the crutches slips off the edge of it and before he even realizes what is happening he is on the floor with one of his legs bent all weird. It doesn’t hurt that much, but all the frustration and embarrassment and everything about this damn situation makes him want to just cry.

So that is exactly what he does, he starts to cry right there on the bottom of the stairs like a child throwing a tantrum for attention. There is no one there, though, and that makes the water ghoul feel even worse.

He feels his mind slipping and there is nothing he can—or wants—to do about it.

...

(the next part is about rain age regressing. if you want to read this fic properly and are okay with reading agere, head over here and then come back here to continue)

Swiss followed through on his promise of asking Zephyr to help Rain. The water ghoul is really anxious about the confrontation, for some reason—but also he has been anxious all the time for the last few days, so he should not be surprised. Zephyr told him to come down to the older ghoul’s den; when he does, they are already waiting for him. They eye Rain when they notice he is just carrying his crutches instead of using them to get there.

“Let’s see what you’ve got first,” the air ghoul tells Rain after brief greetings. They are not using their wheelchair now, as they do most of the time—they have their crutches, too.

Rain grits his teeth and takes a few steps forward with the crutches, randomly picking a gait. Not that he knows much about them. Zephyr tuts right away, though, and the water ghoul turns to them with a questioning look.

“They’re too high for you, first of all,” they explain, “your arms and shoulders are going to give you hell later.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Rain mumbles under his breath; not for the other to hear. He returns to the air ghoul and they take the crutches from him to adjust them.

“The handle should be at your wrist when you’re standing relaxed,” Zephyr says and the water ghoul takes a mental note to adjust his cane and the small pair later, too. He takes the crutches back and tests the new height out and—surely—they do feel more comfortable already. “Alright, now, try to walk with them as if you have two canes.”

Rain obliges, putting one foot and the opposite crutch in front of the other and going forward. It still does not feel right, but he definitely has more control over them now. It’s closer to having just…super long arms now.

“Good,” Zephyr praises with a nod. “Yeah, like that.”

A grunt slips from Rain’s mouth before he can stop it. He feels stupid—he is not a fucking child, he can walk, it doesn’t–

“Put some more weight on them,” the air ghoul adds and Rain tries to focus on his breathing and walking instead of the irrational rage building inside him. “Slower with the crutches, I know it’s an instinct to wave your arms faster but you’ll lose the pace like that.”

“Uh-huh,” the water ghoul replies and hates the fact that Zephyr’s tips work. Maybe he should not have come. If he can’t walk on crutches properly they will cause more harm than good and then he can’t be made to use them daily.

But alas, he came. He even knows why, too.

Rain came because deep down he knows it is the right choice.

He only wishes the rest of his brain would get the memo because it is, frankly, annoying to be so conflicted over something so basic all the time.

Zephyr gives the water ghoul so many tips as their lesson goes on that Rain’s afraid that he has already forgotten half of them. If he was not so prideful he would ask the other to write them down for him, but, well…he is prideful.

At some point the air ghoul tells Rain it’s enough for one day and that both his upper body and mind have to get used to the mobility aids. The water ghoul is grateful for the understanding coming from someone who can relate quite literally. 

Zephyr notices the wet glint in Rain’s eyes and the tension in his expression. They know it too well themself. They come up to the water ghoul to offer a half-hug.

“Sorry, I–nevermind,” Rain mutters.

“It’s alright, I know it’s a lot to handle,” Zephyr says. “Especially at first and especially being a ghoul and everything. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

“How do you…deal with it?” the other asks in a quiet voice.

“Well, uh, it didn’t come to me easy,” Zephyr chuckles. “I’d even say I was more stubborn about using mobility aids than you, but without them I was miserable most of the time. Now I only see them as something helpful, you know?”

The water ghoul nods in acknowledgment. He wishes his brain weren't so stubborn.

“It would be great just being alright and not having to rely on things like these,” Zephyr sighs, waving one crutch in the air, “but believe me that the sooner your mindset about mobility aids changes the sooner you’ll find peace.”

Rain finds no answer to that. He nods before turning away and he hopes the other understands. The water ghoul squeezes his eyes against the sting of tears and tries to drill Zephyr’s words into his mind, tries to worm them in between the folds of his brain and make it just listen. It does not—not really, not right away—and so Rain lets the tears of overwhelm flow down his cheeks.

He doesn’t notice Mountain standing by their den’s door and watching him with furrowed brows. Rain gets startled when he speaks, “Are you alright, petal?”

“Oh, shit, Mounty, you scared me,” he huffs, faking a laugh to cover up the wetness in his voice. “Yeah, I’m good. Just getting back from…a lesson with Zephyr.

Mountain does not budge, though—standing strong in Rain’s way, with his arms folded across his chest. “Are you sure?”

Rain nods, but if the earth ghoul will not let him go soon, he will break.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but just…” Mountain sighs. “Rain, do you want a hug?”

And his tone makes the water ghoul break.

He nods as his bottom lip starts to wobble and Mountain wastes no more time before embracing his packmate. Rain just flops face first into the other’s chest and he chuckles sadly, patting him on the back. They stand like that for a little while, neither saying a word until Rain asks to spend the night with Mountain.

He agrees, of course, and picks the exhausted and overwhelmed ghoul up bridal style to carry him to bed. 

“Do you want someone to join us?” the earth ghoul asks and Rain shakes his head.

“Just you,” he mutters. A few more tears fall before he is snuggled all cozy in Mountain’s huge nest. He joins the water ghoul after a quick shower and Rain melts against his warm chest. He’s asleep in a flash.

A few weeks after Dewdrop’s proclamations and Rain and Zephyr’s heart-to-heart the water ghoul is already quite handy with the crutches. He is using them more than his cane because most of the time both his legs need support, not only one. The cane is now reserved for short outings when he’s feeling confident in his legs. 

There are still bumps in the road—Rain feeling awful mentally and refusing to touch his mobility aids, insisting that he is fine and does not need them. There are moments he falls back into his old mindset of  ‘this is good, but not for me’—his pack always supports him, then, in whatever way he might need it.

So what it took the water ghoul months to get used to mobility aids, to accept needing them, to start seeing them as helpful? Everything is a process and he is lucky to have had his pack’s support all the way, and still have it whenever he is feeling down.

Living with a chronic condition that influences every aspect of Rain’s life is not something he ever dreamed of—obviously—and he would not wish it upon anyone. He is never going to be happy about being disabled, but—in hindsight—he is happy he was pressured into getting mobility aids when he did.

While he thought his life would become limited once he starts relying on aids, it’s the opposite—it has become fuller, because he does not waste as much energy on things as simple as walking anymore; his crutches take that on. His hands might hurt after longer use, but his arms and shoulders have only gotten stronger, and his posture has improved—a side effect Rain had not expected.

Most of all, he is still treated like normal.

That was one of Rain’s biggest fears—that once he grabs a mobility aid he will become less in the eyes of his pack, the Clergy, the Siblings. He could not have been more wrong.

He still is, and always will be just their water ghoul, just their bassist.

He is just Rain.

[sweet-little-raven]

*Sigh* Wednesday is trending again, which means that the kiddos out there are gonna start drama again. Please just stop; this is one of the reason why the show was called cringe a year ago and people left the fandom.

1- You have the right to ship Wyler et Wavier. This is your opinion, your preference and I respect it. So why, mainly Wavier shippers, are suddenly back at attacking Wenclair shippers for no reason at all on Tumblr, Twitter and basically every single social media? What are you, 12? Is this hard to respect people's opinions???

2- Stop shipping Jenna and Emma. I'm almost certain this is the reason why we can't tag Emma on Instagram anymore. Ever since the Chappell Roan videos got out, a lot of people have made weird comments saying that they kissed or that they were on a date. Just stop. Stop shipping real people, or do it but silently. All of this is making them very uncomfortable and it's just direspectful to assume things like that. We just got them back, don't make Jenna delete Instagram again and make Emma disappear from it once again.

This just needed to be said. Just be respectful, it's not that fucking hard, goddamit. And when I mean respectful, I mean towards the fans AND the actors. Don't make Wednesday cringe again. Stop being kids and attacking other fans for absolutely no reason because you can't accept the fact that they don't ship your ship. And stop using the fucking Wenclair hashtag to say trash about them, this is getting annoying.

This is also addressed to, like me, Wenclair shippers. You should respect Wyler and Wavier shippers as well; don't give the bad example. Everyone is free to ship the characters they want, and this without any drama or violence. Just be kind to each others, it's not that hard.

Thank you for reading this. If you disagree, then just shut the fuck up because I don't have time to lose arguing with immature people on social media. I'm writing this as a reminder to respect Jenna and Emma and the fans, that's all. Y'all seriously needed a reminder.

Also, don't make Tumblr toxic. I already left Instagram and Twitter because people in here are the most toxic ever, I always loved Tumblr because people were nice, but for a week mad Wavier shippers started posting and insulting which is extremely annoying. Oh, and I also had to turn off my anonymous asks because I got very weird questions from probably bots. Don't make this app bad too, it's basically the only good one left with Pinterest.

I suppose that's all. Goodnight. And don't fucking come at me for saying this, because everything I said in here is true and I am just trying to remind people to be nice, not cause any more drama. If you say something mean here, you will be blocked immediately because, as I said, I don't have time to lose arguing with kids who can't respect an opinion.

Goodnight 🤍☮️

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Thank you so much for all your hard work I've found so many great fics here! I have a recommendation/request. I recently read the WIP, Play for me the Music of your Heart (https://archiveofourown.org/works/40016034) by Leviosally468 which is fabulous. Do you know of other fics where one or both of them are classical musicians/conductors? I looked through the famouscrowley and famousaziraphale tags but didn't find anything. Thanks so much!!

Hi! Here are some fics in which one or both of them are involved with classical music (and one jazz, because it's really good)...

Opera Cakes and Second Takes by ThatWriterKid (T)

One week. Four pairs of students. The goal: write an opera and perform it in six days. Professors Ezra Fell and Anthony Crowley weren’t expecting to write an opera in a week, but tenure is rare and life throws you curveballs.

The Underlying Melody by Tossukka (E)

Crowley is the keyboardist and the main songwriter in a world-famous rock band, the Burning Rejects. When the band is asked to perform with a classical violinist in a charity concert, Crowley isn’t thrilled but tentatively agrees to do it for a good cause. Aziraphale, who performs under the stage name A.Z. Fell isn't any more excited to play his violin with a rock band but accepts the proposition for similar reasons. When Crowley and Aziraphale meet, they expect to have nothing in common. However, their working relationship quickly turns into close friendship and mutual attraction. Between rehearsals for the concert, they share lunches, enjoy nights of drunken conversations, and manage to have and resolve some artistic differences. When the performance approaches, both know their collaboration will soon be over, taking away their excuses for spending so much time together, but neither of them is quite ready yet to let each other go.

I Attempt from Love's Sickness to Fly (in Vain) by wyrmy (E)

“Goodness me,” said Aziraphale breathlessly, “this isn’t what one is supposed to do in a practice room.” Crowley, a vocal student at University, is assigned to collaborate with a student accompanist, Aziraphale, who has some very strange and dark secrets.

Love, Syncopation, and Other Key Elements of Jazz by feathereddino (T)

The jazz duo of A.J. and Fell are an unstoppable force well into their mid-twenties, but when Crowley's illness causes the pair to step back from the spotlight, an enterprising music manager scoops up Aziraphale's career. Dazzled, Aziraphale will abandon all of his former life to be Gabriel's perfect star but lose himself and his happiness along the way. It would take a very steady and forgiving heart for someone to love him through it all...

Intermezzo by FeralTuxedo (E)

Music critic Aziraphale Fell is trying to break into the world of television, when he is signed to make a documentary about former-rockstar-turned-composer Anthony Crowley. It’s been eleven years since Aziraphale’s disastrous review of Crowley’s debut opera nipped his classical music career in the bud. He can only hope that Crowley will get over his admittedly justified grudge to make the TV show a success. A classical music sex comedy. Yes, really.

Of Harpsichord and Falsetto by saretton (E)

"And that was the magic of it all: Aziraphale was at such a level in his mastery that he could tidy up all that apparent chaos. He made it seem so easy, so effortless, even though Crowley knew that, behind that polished façade, there were years of study, practice and daily sacrifices. In the days when they both attended the music school, Crowley used to sit outside the rehearsal classroom to listen to Albert as he practiced playing the piano almost every afternoon. Sometimes Crowley would even ditch other classes to do that." ----- A Good Omens Musicians AU.

And the one you mentioned...

Play for me the Music of your Heart by Leviosally468 (E) (WIP)

Anthony J. Crowley, a talented virtuoso violinist finally makes the move west to Nightingale Bay, Oregon after escaping a simultaneously promising yet toxic life at Elysian Conservatory of Music in New York City. Aziraphale Z. Fell is Eastern Gate University’s friendly and talented piano professor and symphony conductor. Let's see how that goes, shall we?

- Mod D

[justwinginglife]

This Time, It's Different

Dedicated to the only person who will read this, my bestie @minasfwoopyponytail, yall I know I be doin Soshiro all the time, but I got on the Ranpo track cuz we were talking about Ranpo being in our top favs for BSD so I gotta show him some love today (I am so sorry that I bought Chuuya, Dazai, and Akutugawa merch and forgot about you Ranpo my love, this is my apology fic for you).

You were never good at lying. 

It was inconvenient in almost all aspects of your life, but you never thought your ineptitude would be the reason someone finally fell in love with you.

After many failed attempts at bending the truth, after attempting to tell your aunt you liked the socks she got for your birthday and instead unknowingly wrinkling your nose at them and breaking her heart, after attempting to tell your boss that you were busy and couldn’t come to work on a Saturday and when she asked follow up questions about your supposed plans you found yourself flushed and floundering, after attempting to tell your ex that you enjoyed meeting his family but then immediately declining any further interaction with them, after multiple awkward interactions and even more disastrous encounters, you decided to give up on lying. It wasn’t for you.

So you resigned yourself to the fact that you would have to tell nothing but the whole, honest truth for the rest of your life. Your lackluster lies may cause catastrophe otherwise. 

So when you joined up with the Armed Detective Agency, when you rejected Dazai’s advances by saying, “No offense Dazai, but I’m sure you say that to all the ladies, and while I’m flattered, I’m not into womanizers,” when you offered methods of stress relief to Kunikida because he “always looked like the world was ending,” when you asked when Furukawa would be retiring because you were concerned about him “overworking himself in his old age,” when half the detective agency was against you from your first day, Ranpo Edogawa found himself half in love with you already. 

He’d never met a person who didn’t -or just couldn’t- lie, even among his fellow coworkers, and he was at least intrigued by you if nothing else. He found himself eager to see just how far you were willing to go to continue telling the truth. 

Going forward, you often found him tagging along on missions with you, peeking over your shoulder while you worked, listening to everything intently, even despite your other coworkers telling you that Ranpo almost never went out of his way to be this personally invested in anything, just because he wanted to hear you talk, to see if you really told everyone everything you thought all the time. And to ask you questions. Lots of questions. 

Most of them were controversial because he wanted to see if you’d stick to your opinions even if you were in the minority, some of them were philosophical because he wanted to know the way your mind worked, and a few of them were just downright absurd because he was Ranpo. 

“Okay. So. You want to know if I would divert the trolley to save the lives of five by killing one?”

“Yes, and when you’re done with that, do you think that dress makes that girl’s butt look fat?”

“Mr. Edogawa, sir, I really don’t see how this is relevant to the case.”

“Oh it’s relevant, alright. Answer the question, I’m your superior and I wanna know.”

“Um. Alright. Well clearly it makes more logical sense to sacrifice the life of the one for the good of the many, just mathematically speaking, and yes, that dress is very unappealing on her, I don’t know why she went with white.” 

“Agreed, the white is hideous, you pass my tests. For now.”

And so this bizarre relationship of yours continued.

Ranpo would wait for you to finish up cases, would wait for you to finish in the bathroom, would wait for you to finish up dinner, just so he could pick your brain, just so he could amuse himself with your answers. But the more time he spent with you, the more his reason changed for spending the time. He was always attentive, had always had a keen eye, but when you were around, it seemed every last bit of his attention had devoted itself to you. He knew how long it took for you to finish going to the bathroom, so -much to your embarrassment- he always knew what you were doing in the bathroom depending on the length of time. He knew how long it took for you to eat and which foods took you longer amounts of time to eat them. He knew when it was your time of the month, he knew what you craved during said time, he knew the way you’d react when he brought you said craving. He knew almost everything about you and it still wasn’t enough. 

One day, he diverted from his usual barrage of insane questions and he started asking about you: what was your favorite food, where were you born, did you have any pets growing up, what did you like to do outside of work? By now, you had gathered from all his previous questions that he was just having fun interrogating you, but you enjoyed talking with him, so you answered all his questions regardless, personal or otherwise. You were unsure how telling him your favorite color was supposed to entertain him the way his usual ridiculous questions did, but you told him it was green anyway. He brought you a bundle of kiwis the next day because he couldn’t figure out what else was green to give you. You were unaware of the fruit’s connection to his question about your favorite color but to him, he’d pretty much just asked you out. 

When you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, because you were unaware he had feelings for you, and unaware he had just presented them to you through said kiwis, he pouted for the remainder of the day.

You couldn’t figure out why the man who had spent every waking second of your career with the ADA by your side had suddenly started avoiding you. You couldn’t figure it out, and it was killing you. Little did he know, you had also started memorizing details about him, and the way his laugh sounded, the way his lips curved into a smile, the way his fingers pushed up his glasses, the way he did anything and everything, the way he said anything and everything had you craving your next interaction before the previous one had even ended. And you couldn’t take the silence he had now forced you into. So you went on a hunt for him.

You found him sulking on the rooftop. 

You plopped down beside him without saying a word and when you could tell he might be preparing to run again, preparing to plunge your relationship into further silence, you handed him a Ramune. He froze. And then he snatched the drink out of your hand like it was just another Tuesday for the two of you.

“You remembered my favorite flavor, huh? Not too shabby for a second rate detective.” He chugged down the drink.

You laughed and nudged his shoulder with yours. “If I’m such a second rate detective, how did I know you’d be on the roof?”

He shrugged. “Got lucky, I guess.”

You bit your lip and for the first time in years, considered lying. But you couldn’t do it. “Actually, I didn’t just ‘get lucky.’ I knew you’d be on the roof. You always come to the roof when you’re upset. I notice more than you think. So tell me- why are you upset?”

He sighed. “You’re not into me. No one’s ever into me.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

He sighed again, this time more exasperated. “I gave you a gift, but you didn’t accept my feelings.”

You blinked again. “The… kiwis?? Ranpo. You always give me gifts. You gave me strawberries during my last period even though Yosano told you to get me chocolate because you know I like fruits better than chocolate. You gave me limited edition tickets to a play that was already sold out because you’d preordered it when you heard me vaguely mention that I liked it. You are always giving me things, and they’re perfect, and I love it, and I appreciate it, but how was I supposed to know this time was something different?”

He tapped a finger on his chin. “Yeah okay fine. I see that now.”

You inched up closer to him. “So… this time is different though?”

He suddenly blushed. “Yeah… this time it’s different. This time I wanted… well I wanted…”

“Me?”

He’s suddenly quiet and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. You’ve rendered him speechless and it’s impossible not to find it adorable.

You kiss him.

If he was speechless before, now he’s speechless and breathless.

“I just… you just…so we’re?”

You nod, smiling at him. “Yeah. We are.”

“We’re… together?” He squeaks out.

“I’d like us to be.”

He nods vigorously. “I-I’d like us to be too!” He blurts out.

You kiss him again and this time he savors the feeling of your lips melding with his. This time he kisses you back with fervor, with passion he never knew he could feel. This time, he’s all yours.

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

Author's Note: I am too lazy to write a longer fic that delves into their relationship after this, but I did want to write a lil drabble about it, so I will be posting it here.

[mal3vol3nt]

https://www.tumblr.com/longing-for-rain/755847912227028992/here-we-observe-the-aang-boymom-in-its-natural?source=share

Hi! I'm curious on your thoughts of this meta.

hi anon! so sorry for keeping you waiting with this response, i know it’s been months. unfortunately this probably isn’t gonna be the response you wanted to hear—me breaking down this zk brainrot rant and subverting their claims with canon content. please allow me to explain though (this is gonna be long sorry):

the reasons i’ve been slow to answer this ask and others that have sent me zk rants are:

since joining atla twitter (@arrsapphics if you’re cool) i’ve been exposed to a lot more zk coke-fueled rants and just do not have the energy to torture myself by willingly reading their shit

a lot of these zutara stans on tumblr are a lot more deranged and genuinely horrible people now that i’ve been exposed to the twitter zks. of course, zks are stupid and ship-obsessed on every platform and some of them (one in particular comes to mind—if you’re on twitter then you know) are genuinely just as bad, but i feel the ones on here have a special type of hatred considering they can tag their posts to ensure their hate stays within the echo chamber

CONTENT WARNING: RAP3

the second reason is the biggest part of why i will no longer entertain posts from longing-for-rain. i have recently found out via twitter that they write rape fanfiction of katara. being a chronically online shipper is one thing but to write fanfic of katara being raped so that zuko can save her is truly where i have to disengage. they have also posted rants of them analyzing katara’s body in the show, measuring the size of her breasts and hips to support the delusions in their head about this 14 year old girl. i truly cannot engage with this person’s rants as if they’re just regular shipping war bullshit. this person is a sick individual who not only projects onto a 14 year old brown indigenous character but also sexualizes and adultifies her

for these reasons, i refuse to read a rant posted by her and other big zk blogs on this app. people who take their obvious fetishes and racism and project them onto underaged asian and indigenous characters have gained too much attention from me on this blog. i can’t continue reading rants from these people and analyzing them because i know these people are not treating this show and its characters under an appropriate lens and arguing with their points will do absolutely nothing but enrage me, other people in the ka fandom, and fuel their delusions with our anger as “proof” their arguments hold any weight. on twitter, i’ll continue interacting with what comes up on my tl from my atla moots and if that includes shitting on a deranged zk then fine. but on tumblr i refuse to engage, especially since this app has a tagging system that i use religiously

and i would like to encourage anyone who reads this to also refuse to take this person’s rants seriously and look at them as nothing more than cope-hatred by a sick individual with sick fantasies and thoughts about these minor characters. of course, if you choose to still engage then i won’t stop you and will probably like and reblog your posts 😭

i will just no longer willingly click on links to their rants and subject myself to their bullshit. however, if you’d like for me to argue against zk claims then you are more than welcome to send me a summary of what they’ve said and i’ll do my best to organize a response! i absolutely do not want to discourage anyone from sending me asks because i truly do enjoy answering yalls questions and i love knowing that people like hearing what i have to say on these things lol. please, send me asks about anything and everything! just please understand that i won’t be clicking any links to their posts and blogs or be entertaining anything that comes from the three main delusional zk blogs 🙏

i hope this has made sense and again, i’m sorry anon for taking so long to answer this ask and for not giving the expected response 🫶

[roguishcat]

Snippet Monday

❤️Thank you very much for tagging me @ghost-of-a-dream-girl, @busy-baker and @xxnashiraxx! ❤️

This is something I've started working on for the 300 followers celebration for @pursuitseternal - a Magistrate Astarion x Reader one-shot where Astarion was never turned! Such a brilliant idea, thank you so much!

So, basically this has all the events of BG3 but Astarion is an elf. And the one-shot takes place post-game. So far, I think I have a general idea of what I'm going to write, so hopefully this is something along the lines of what you would like it to be!

The afternoon sunlight brushed warmly against your cheek as you enjoyed a rare moment of peace. Instead of running around Baldur's Gate, fixing buildings, helping those in need, the Hero of the Gate for once decided to read a newspaper in a park. Something quite mundane for some, a rare luxury for you.

You were not slacking. But you have come to realise that in your bid to please everyone you would soon completely burn out. Which is why you didn’t feel a smidge of guilt when you found yourself going to Bloomridge park instead of the Upper City.

Not having to make any decisions and just simply be for an hour felt absolutely heavenly. Children played, the members of the book club gossiped, and couples whispered among themselves. This was exactly what you loved about this city. No matter how much havoc was wrought, Baldur's Gate healed rapidly and would soon be back to its former glory.

You cast your eyes over the articles in the newspaper. Nothing special, thank the gods. Just silly gossip and the like. You quickly looked through it and gave a happy sigh. No news was always good news in your books!

Yet, no matter how pleasant this little break was, you were well aware that your assistance was needed at ten odd locations today. It was time to get back to work.

Getting up, you looked at the newspaper in your hands and decided that perhaps someone would enjoy reading it. Afterall, there was hardly any reason for you to take the paper with you. And leaving it behind would probably save some poor student a copper. Thus assured that you were doing no harm, you folded the newspaper up neatly and set it down on the park bench for another to enjoy.

Just as you were about to walk away, you heard someone clear their throat loudly.

"What do you think you are doing?"

It was one of the Fists. You didn't recognise him. Perhaps it was a new recruit, seeing as otherwise he would have known who you were.

"Excuse me?"

"You are littering," he stated, pointing to the newspaper with an accusatory finger.

Ah, so a simple misunderstanding.

"I am not littering,” you smiled pleasantly, in spite of feeling that it was rather strange of the Fist to worry about something as inconsequential as litter out of all things. “Just thought someone else might enjoy reading the paper now that I'm done with it."

The Fist did not look impressed by your explanation. In fact, if anything he seemed even more set in his belief that a heinous crime was being committed in broad daylight.

"I am arresting you for littering in a public garden," he seemed to think about it for a moment. "And for arguing with a city guard."

"I've hardly said any-"

"Resisting arrest, are we?" he drawled, making your mouth tighten as you bit back a snarky retort.

"No, I will come with you willingly," you grumbled.

Perhaps if you played along for a bit, you could talk to someone of a higher rank. Saying anything to an overly eager guard who was obstinately sticking to his accusations would just attract onlookers.

"Good. The judge is waiting for your arrival."

"What? What do you mean judge?" you frowned. What business did any judge have looking into misdemeanours and especially something like littering?

"His Honor judge Ancunín is waiting for you. Don't dawdle. It's rude to keep him waiting."

Suddenly all of this made sense. You ground your teeth and followed the Fist. Of course it was Astarion! That ass!

"Oh, trust me. Him waiting for me will be the least of his worries once I see him."

He couldn’t just come by the tavern and talk to you like someone normal. No, he needed a show of power, especially with him being promoted to judge in high court! Because apparently this was how Astarion got his kicks nowadays. He needed for you to be near forcibly escorted to the courtroom and thrown at his feet. Preferably pleading for mercy and asking him if there was any way that you could make it up to him.

You scowled. The whole scenario just sounded like the plot of some cheap, third-rate smutty novel one would pick up at Sharess'. But if he thought that he you would cower before him, that elf had another thing coming!

No pressure tags: @clazberryk, @inkymoonbunny,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae, @lanafofana, @marlowethebard,

@honeybee-bard, @fangbangerghoul

[djarins-cyare]

WIP Wednesday

Well, the Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge deadline is fast approaching, and I’m 6 chapters and 18k words into what has turned into something waaay lengthier than it started out! So sorry, teacher, I think I’m gonna need an extension on my homework deadline.

Meanwhile, throughout September, I’ve been tagged in various WIP posts by @the-mandawhor1an, @burntheedges, @nerdieforpedro, and @for-a-longlongtime (thank you all 💚), so under the cut, you’ll find a little midweek offering of my now somewhat out-of-control Secret Relationship trope fic...

***If you haven’t already, you may wish to read my first WIP post before the one below, as this one references the earlier one.***

“He raised you?” Mando sounds incredulous. “Why is that weird?” He sighs. “It’s not. Well… it might be. Sleeping with the guy’s niece was one thing, but you’re like his kid—” “Stop there,” you demand with steely ferocity. “First, I am not a kid in any sense. I don’t need to see your face to guess you’re not that much older than me. And, like you, I’m an adult and can make my own decisions, so no kid references, please. Second, whatever his reasons are for keeping us apart, they don’t matter because once I leave here, none of this ever happened. Right?” Your mini tirade is met first with silence, then a chuckle. “Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy?” His amusement diffuses your mock indignation, and you smirk. “You kind of have to be when you grow up here. You don’t think you can handle me?” You shift a little closer to him on the couch. “Oh, mesh’la,” he drawls, his voice casual but with a fiendish edge. “I’m a bounty hunter by trade. You think I haven’t dealt with people far wilder than you?” Kriff, yeah. There’s that confidence you saw last night when he indirectly requested an orgasm before you went to bed. Sure, it’s nice to know that there’s a sweet and awkward guy beneath the warrior exterior, but this is what you find attractive in him. The confident, intimidating hunter. You visibly shiver and press your thighs together at the thought, and he chuckles darkly. Yeah, you just gave away your desires. Still, he doesn’t move yet. You feel like he’s waiting to pounce… emphasis on the waiting. “Okay then, Mandalorian,” you goad with your head held high, almost daring him. “Show me what you’ve got.” There’s a pause as he tilts his helmet slightly, and it lingers for long enough that you start to wonder whether you said the wrong thing. You were just keeping up the banter. Why has he suddenly gone silent? A few more moments pass, and your second-guessing becomes mildly frantic. But as you bite your lip and furrow your brow, Mando releases a deep hum and rumbles, “Mm… better.” Suddenly, you realise. This is not a contest of wits, and he’s not in the mood for sexual banter. He wants to be in charge this time. Well, you were in control last night, and he did say he would pay you back. Plus, he’s spent a whole cycle being unable to control anything due to his injuries. It’s becoming clearer how he sees this going. And you’re very much on board. Now that you understand, you try again. Tucking your chin down, you look up at him through your lashes and soften your tone. “Please, Mando…” “Mm, good girl,” he praises, and heat sparks to life in both your chest and your cunt. “Please, what? What do you want?” You think back to the dialogue that led to the blow job. “Please, will you make me come?” At last, he moves, reaching for your lower thigh and running his palm slowly upward, leaving flames in its wake. “My helmet stays on at all times, non-negotiable. If you touch it, this stops, understand?” “I understand.” Apparently, lifting it to help him drink last night was a one-time deal. “Good. Then, yes, cyar’ika, I’ll make you come.”

Tagging the folks who showed interest in my first snippet as well as those on my permanent tag list. Those of you who write/create and would like to share something with the class, please feel free to do any type of WIP post (Wednesday, weekend, weekday, whatever) if the mood takes you, no pressure 💚

@5oh5 @604to647 @almostfoxglove @ashleyfilm @burntheedges

@captainredspade @cheekychaos28 @chiyo13 @cw80831 @dindjarins-big-tiddy-goth-gf

@djarin-desires @djarinmuse @drewharrisonwriter @ella-whyte @evolnoomym

@fhatbhabiee @fromthedeskoftheraven @grogusmum @here-briefly @hillarymurray4

@itsjuststardust @jessthebaker @joelalorian @j-p3g @lahooozaherr

@lark-of-mirkwood @latenightswithmiller @lilac-boo @magpiepills @mandoloriancookie

@mosssbawls @nebulanibbles @nerdieforpedro @newpathwrites @none-of-this-makes-any-sense

@prolix-yuy @roughdaysandart @secretelephanttattoo @sidoniyablackwood @sixhours

@syd-djarin @the-blind-assassin-12 @theetherealbloom @the-mandawhor1an @thundermartini

@toomanytookas @vikingqueen28 @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @whocaresstillthelouvre @whxtedreams

@wrathkitty @yopossum @you-give-aspirin-headaches

[cocktailjjrs]

So......

Since I've been suffering with these angsty thoughts... i though i would invite you all suffer with me...

It's about Chuuya...

I was doing some research for my fic (mainly going through bsd novels, blogs, tags and all) and came across this one Insta post in passing (sorry, i don't remember the name).

It was about BSD's cycles.

First, cycle of abuse, going from Mori-Dazai-Aku-Kyouka

and Second of rescue, going from Natsume-Oda-Dazai-Atsushi-Kyouka.

And then they highlighted a third category, the one's who are not saved - including Chuuya, Aku and Q.

At that point i didn't think much about it, just another post while scrolling Insta.

But now it's keeps bothering me, a constant reminder, whenever i read something BSD.

And It's so heart wrenching.

It also hit me, Q and Aku can still be saved.

Q, while we don't exactly know where they are right now, there is a chance of them getting their own arc, backstory and then being saved.

Aku, while still in Mafia, his partnership with Atsushi is his saving grace already. He is making an effort to not kill, just for their deal/bet. By the end of it all, he will be in a better place than he is now.

But Chuuya. (Spoiler's for light novel's if you haven't read them)

I remember very clearly, when in Stormbringer (don't ask me why i remember this byheart), when Murase dies Chuuya says, "Hey Detective, Weren’t you gonna arrest me?! Weren’t you gonna bring me into the world of light"

Don't get me wrong, I still believe Chuuya belongs to Port Mafia, the darkness suits him better than light.

But that does not mean he never wanted to get out of that darkness. This one instance in SB was proof enough. Makes me wonder, if things had gone even slightly differently, would he be in a better place than he is now? Is there still a chance?

What's even more tragic is that after the whole SB thing, no one seemed stick around enough to help him fight his own demons.

And he definitely has MASSIVE DEMONS.

His whole life seems to be one catastrophe after another! Don't believe me?

His first group, whom he called friends, betrayed him. Classic stabbed by poisonous knife in the back.

Hardly a year later, his second friends group, Flags, was killed by an emotionally unstable man-child seeking validation, insisting on calling him brother.

He went through a horrid ordeal, having to learn he was a lab experiment, seeing your clone vaporise to nothing but bones in your own arms, having to fight those same bones. And as if this was not enough, then fighting the monstrosity of a singularity and in process loosing the only chance to determine your humanity. (Actually whole of SB is dreadful, i don't think it'll ever get worse than that - i really hope it doesn't)

Then, given by the timeline, another year later, his third group of friends was killed by Shibusawa.

And again a year later - his partner, who brought him in all this madness, just fucking leaves without a word. This is the least tragic thing that has happened to the boy, i swear.

And I'm sure it didn't end there.

There must have been so many things going on behind the scenes in those missing years, hell even after the series began, Chuuya has been out of scene because something or the other was going on.

Now you have Fyodor fucking shit up for no apparent reason. With this shitshow, many mafia men, some of whom Chuuya might have developed a relation, are definitely dead. Not to mention the mental gymnastics going to trying to at least be on the same fucking chapter as the two geniuses.

AND ALL OF THIS IS JUST IN THE CURRENT TIMELINE. Don't get me started on BEAST VERSE!!! (That's a can of worms I'm really not ready to open at this point)

The thing with Mentally strong individuals is, they have abnormally high emotional intelligence, they are unnaturally resilient, they can compartmentalize their grief, they empathise with great deal of people, think rationally at any given point and think of ways to make things better.

What many people fail to understand is that no one is born Mentally strong, it's the circumstances that make them as such.

It can happen even through small things.

No one being there for you to express your deepest fears. No one just listening to you, even if they have a solution to your problem. Or having seen other's nightmares come to reality and feeling your own are much smaller, or having made to fell that way.

It creates the mentality of never sharing your fears, your insecurities, your discomfort - because at the back of the mind you keep telling yourself - oh, this person has gone through so much more than i have, my fear is nothing compared to it. I can handle it on my own, they have their own problems to handle. Everyone is busy, i don't think they have time to listen to the same problem I've been facing for years now. I've manages so far, i think I can manager just fine.

You start to undervalue your own feelings and start to fell like you'll burden them. Start to feel like you NEED to handle it on your own.

Now, i don't want to go into a spiral of mental health, but when you look at Chuuya, you can't help but marvel at that kids Mental resolution.

His first action after being stabbed in back was to make a deal with a demon to make sure he doesn't harm them, because they are just kids.

His first reaction to being provoked into revenge was to say Fuck off to his manipulator, not falling for the temptation and doing what he felt right.

He even forgave the killer of his friends (And also the one who tried to kill him) for gods sake! Understanding what he was going through.

He even walked away after knowing his parents are alive (oh the irony) not wanting to put a target on them. (I'm actually on fence with this, the chances of it being a manipulation tactic from Mori is just as high as it being the truth)

He had tremendous mental fortitude.

But you still see the cracks in his emotional state,

He was desperate to know if he was human or not, inclining towards the later.

He didn't know, that your friends can do some nice things without expecting anything in return. They can go above and beyond your regular stuff just because they are your friends, there doesn't need to be of anything at stake in friendship.

Hell, there was a point he believed having a Heart was too sophisticated for him, that he can't be that human!

I can go hours and hours about this.

What i can say for sure is, he has demons in all sizes, shapes and forms, something that he has stuffed in his closet only to deal with them himself, not letting them see the light of the day.

i just don't see anyone actually being there for him long enough for him to trust them fully with his demons.

No, not even Dazai. Dazai himself was a walking cry for help, like hell Chuuya is adding to that pile. He may have found a constant in Dazai in three years, seeing as all other's met their end in one. I believe in those three years, somewhere Soukoku began to feel like his safe place, somewhere he didn't had to think about his demons only by the virtue of dealing with one made of flesh and bones. But then even Dazai left.

I don't think even Kouyou was there for most part. And considering her obsession with a flowers of dark with Kyouka, i think it pulled Chuuya more in her own tragedy. Afterall, she also was never saved.

Mori is there, but Mori is a Demon in his own rights. What we've seen is their interactions have been those of a boss and his close confidents, nothing personal or emotional. Which also makes sense when you think of Mori's theory of running an organization. Chuuya, all things considered, the most powerful member of PM and he is treated as such.

The other significant members of PM, the guerrilla squad, black lizards or Kajji - all of them may know him better than most, but he is still their executive. If a 15 and younger kid took the title of being a protector of his rag-tag group seriously, being a responsible and dependable executive comes with higher stakes. He will carry out his role as one, even if it's the last thing he does.

.

.

.

That was me rambling.

My point is, i wanna give Chuuya a big hug, tell him it's okay to fell tried sometimes. To let himself be vulnerable. That his fears are not invalid. That he is not invalid. That he isn't the problem, never was.

That he will still be valued and wanted, even if he one day looses his ability or he is no longer the strongest.

Can someone please save his boy?