#this women does not realize I do not get paid enough to do all the shit theyre asking

[cease-theday]

Everyday I debate telling my manager to kick rocks.

[kpop---scenarios]

Charmer (4)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader x Chan

Genre: fwb, ex fwb, semi enemies to lovers

Warning: smut.. hurt feelings [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT READ]

Word Count: 1.9k

Taglist: @oddracha @iovecb97 @katsukis1wife @stay-tiny-things @rubytakemyhandx23 @hyunjinhoexxx @iikxstcenn @beebee18 @kissesmellow21 @felixthemochicat @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @yaorzu-blog @jisunglyricist @lunearta @changbinismymuscledaddy @jiminssluttyminx @gloriajovicc @skzooluvr

Unable to tag: @easypeezylemonsquezy

One | Two | Three

Two weeks.

It had officially been two weeks since you blocked Minho, and a week now since you had met Chan and started to become a different version of yourself, or so you thought. You felt like you were finally realizing your worth and what you deserved out of a man, with help from Chan. The two of you went out tonight where he opened doors for you, his eyes never strayed to other women when they walked by, he listened intently to what you were saying while you rambled on about some random story that really wasn't important. But the thing was that he listened. He paid attention to you, he wanted to be around you, he wanted to be in public with you and it was so different then being only affectionate in private and cold in public like Minho.

“Thank you for tonight.” You smile at Chan as he walks you to the front door of your apartment building.

“Thank you for coming out with me again.” He grins. How could he thank you for going out with him? You were the lucky one. He smiles at you, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips as he slowly inches his face towards yours. You can't help but smile to yourself as you close your eyes, getting ready to pucker your lips as he finally gently presses his against yours. You almost feel like you're going to melt into the kiss as he wraps his arms around your waist and you wrap yours around his neck, deepening the kiss. Chan slowly slides his tongue into your mouth, twirling his around yours.

Chan pulls away, grinning from ear to ear, as you try to hide your blush, butterflies feeling like they're going to burst out of your stomach. Butterflies was completely uncharted territory for you, when Minho kissed you it was just pure passion, there was never time for you to feel anything other than lust when his body was against yours.

“I'll call you.” He whispers, placing one more small kiss on your cheek before he walks back to his car and you go inside. You walk down the hallway to your apartment door, unlocking it, going inside, closing it and locking it again. You lean against your closed front door, smiling so hard that your cheeks are hurting as pure bliss radiates through your body. Holy shit you felt like you were in elementary school, all giddy that your crush said hi to you.

Your squealing comes to a quick stop when you hear rapid knocking on the door, startling you. You put your purse down, turning around to unlock the door, fully expecting to see Chan there, but you were extremely surprised to see Minho standing there, frowning at you.

“Baby.” He whispers.

Your stomach sinks.

“You blocked my number?” He asks, looking you dead in the eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“Go home, Minho.” You sigh, going to close the door.

His hand grabs the door, pushing it open enough for him to step inside. “Why would you block me? Does 2 years.. over 2 years mean nothing to you?” He asks.

“Mhm..2 years of you fucking around with my feelings and using the fact that I was so in love with you to satisfy your needs, yeah that means nothing to me.” You snap back.

But that was a lie. Those two years meant everything to you but you were hurt and you wanted him to feel the same.

“I never knew you were in love with me.” He exclaims. You scoff. There's no way he couldn't have known.

“How could you have not known?” You ask. “Why would I have been putting up with everything you did to me if I wasn't?” You yell.

“Because I thought that you were into the friends with benefits thing!” He yells, The vein in his neck popping out.

Fuck. He's hot when he's mad.

“So you thought that I put up with it all because I was just into the fuck buddies thing?” You whisper.

“Yes! I knew you liked me and you wanted more, but I just figured that was a part of the deal. There obviously has to be attraction and some type of fondness towards each other for it to work, but I didn't know how deep in you actually were. You never told me!” He says.

“Okay fine, but what about the rest of it? Why did you tell me you weren't ready to settle down and then literally the next day you show up with some girl nobody has ever even heard about, exclaiming she's your girlfriend! And how you just say you're not ready to settle when you want nothing more from a girl than sex? Huh?” You yell back. “You make no sense to me, like just fucking tell me straight up and be done with it! Stop stringing me around like I'm a fucking doll.”

“I'm fucking scared!” He yells. “How am I supposed to admit things to you and then have everything change and then what if I lose you because I fuck up somehow, or you realize you're not actually in love with me.. or something. Do you not know how terrifying that is?” He asks.

“You don't think I'm scared?” You scoff. “Everything about falling for someone is fucking scary but you do it and you put in effort, you communicate and you fucking make it work.”

Minho stands there, staring at the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks like he's about to say something, when his phone rings. He groans as he looks at the ID.

“Hey, Jennie, baby.” He says, answering the phone.

You scoff, turning to walk away from him. He comes in here, confusing you with all his talk, and then he's still with her? Fuck this.

“Y/N.” He calls out, shoving his phone back in his pocket before following you.

“You're still with her?” You ask. “Why are you here?”

“Are you dating?” He asks.

“Yeah I am, actually.” You say. “He likes me. He wants to be seen with me in public and he wants the world to know about me and his feelings for me.”

“Stop seeing him.” Minho says. “Come back to me.”

“You have a girlfriend. What are you not understanding?”

“Y/N.” He whispers, walking closer to you. You're frozen in your spot. He presses his body against you, you can feel his breath on your neck. “Kitten..please. I miss you.” He says, moving his face closer to yours. You want to push him away but his scent.. is so fucking intoxicating.

His mouth pushes against yours, so much desperation and passion. You can't help but wrap your arms around his neck as he pushes himself closer into you. He reaches down, grabbing the back of your legs as he hoists you up, letting you wrap your legs around his waist as he keeps the kiss going. He pushes you against the wall, you can feel his cock grow harder as he pushes himself against your clothed heat.

You break the kiss, turning your head away, your lungs screaming for air.

“We can't.” You breathe. “Go back to Jennie.”

“I can't.. not yet. I need you baby, please.” He whispers, grinding himself into you. “Don't you miss me?”

You let a moan slip from your mouth. Minho carries you to your room, throwing you down on the bed as he crawls over you, his body hovering over you as he peppers kisses down your neck, your legs still wrapped around his waist. You fucking wanted this so badly and you knew you absolutely shouldn't.

“I fucking missed you so much.” He murmurs, unbuttoning your shirt. He kisses down your chest, to your stomach, before he moves his way to your jeans, unbuttoning them, before moving down your body to pull them from your body. He pulls down your panties, spreading your legs open, diving right into your cunt like a starved man. He licks and sucks your clit as he plunges two fingers deep inside you, making you cry out loudly.

“Minho.. Please. “ You pant. “I need more. Fuck me.” You moan.

You can hear him chuckle from between your legs as he sits up, undoing his pants, letting his cock spring free. Just as Minho is about to push into you, your phone rings. You glance at the ID, seeing it's Chan, you instantly answer it, almost forgetting that Minho was just about to stretch out your cunt.

“Hello?” You answer, your voice a little shaky.

“Hey you.” Chan chuckles. “I'm sorry for calling so late.” He starts. “But I.. I wanted to go to the beach tomorrow and was wondering if you wanted to come with me?” He asks.

You bite your lip as Minho shoves his cock into you, trying not to moan into the phone call. Minho lifts your legs up high while he plows into you.

“The beach?” You ask. “I would love to.” You answer, trying to breathe normally.

“Okay awesome.” Chan says. You can hear him smiling through the phone. “I'll pick you up at 9.”

“See you then.” You say, hanging up the phone.

“You're not going anywhere.” Minho groans, placing his fingers on your clit, making your squirm beneath him. You don't answer him, instead moaning loudly as he fucks you just like you've been needing, you fucking missed the way he fucked you so good.

“Fuck, right there.” You groan, bucking your hips while he plows into you.

“You take my cock so well.” Minho grunts as you clench yourself around him. “Cum for me kitten.”

Just as he says that, your orgasm hits you, jolting through you while you scream out in pleasure.

“Fuck, that's right baby.” He groans, his own orgasm hitting him full force, spilling hot cum deep inside you.

Minho pulls out of you, pulling his pants back up as you roll off the bed, heading to the bathroom a pang of guilt hitting you immediately. You shouldn't have done that or let Minho do that. Why did you lack so much self control when it came to him? While you were cleaning yourself up, you could hear Minho talking to someone. You press your ear to the door, listening to what he was saying.

“Yes baby, I'm coming home, I'll be there right way.” He says. “No, I'm not with anyone special. Nah just some guys, there's no girls, baby. Even if there were girls here, you know no one can compare to you, it's only you. Always.” He chuckles.

No one special? It's only her, huh? So even after your talk, nothing was going to change, was it?

You rip the door open, tears streaming down your face. He quickly hangs up the phone, looking at you confused.

“Hey.. why are you crying?” He asks.

“Not with anyone special? No one can compare to her?” You repeat. “So what was all the stuff you said to me earlier, just words spilling out of your mouth to get me into bed?” You ask.

“Y/N.. I just.. please.. let me..you and her.. it's complicated..” he pauses.

“I don't want to hear it.” You dryly chuckle. “You need to go. I have plans in the morning, with someone who is making me their ONLY choice.”

[soiwj]

Tasty Treat

Arlecchino x fem!baker!reader

Link to part 2

Very ooc arlecchino

(i dont know her character wel but she's hot, so i thought I'd give it a shot)

Planning on doing research on her though!!

Fuckk i love women omg

Second mini-fic ever how exciting!!

Please request stuff here!! It's hard to come up with prompts ;-;

I wrote this at 3 am so excuse the lack of structure

You start your usual routine of setting everything up for the day, although today is a bit special. Your bakery doesn't have many customers, considering the place it's in is quite remote. A peaceful forrest that's still in fontaine borders yet far away from any other buildings or people.

You chose this place because you appreciate the beauty and peace that nature brings you. The birds whisteling in the morning, the foxes chittering, the sound of tree leaves rustling. Yet that peace comes with quite a heft price. Loneliness. Besides the old lady that lives in a small village near the forrest, you don't get much human interaction. Even though your bakery is quite big and fits lots of people, you don't really have a lot of customers to share it with.

A week ago, you received a business offer from the house of the hearth. Since the bakery near the orphanage closed down, they don't have any establishments providing them things like breakfast treats and pastries. That's why they're employing you. The contract has you preparing and delivering the food to the hearth.

Even though this seemed like quite a lot of work, you accepted. I mean, how could you not? You get to make pasteries for adorable kids, making them smile, AND you get paid? This is a dream come true. After years of sulking alone in the damp forest serving a customer here and there, you get the privilege of a constant source of profit.

After hours of baking, your tired eyes look at the required amount of food stated in the order, and you realize that this is only enough for the kids. How strange that the boss herself did not order anything. Does she eat breakfast somewhere else? Nevertheless, you decide to make something anyway.

After packing up the orders, you start walking towards the orphanage, barely holding on to the several boxes stacked on top of eachother.

As you arrive, you set the boxes down and ring the orphanage's doorbell. An earie ring echoes from inside.

A tall woman opens the door. Her snow white hair with the occasional black streak looks down at you from the doorframe. Her brows furrow slightly at the sight of you, and the boxes.

"Are you alone?" She asks, you're confused, to say the least. "...yes?" You mutter. "How come you've managed to carry all those boxes on your lonesome?" Her sultry voice sounds out as she crosses her arms in amusement, holding back a grin. Before you can answer, you hear who you assume are the kids, walking slowly towards the persumed dining room.

"I'll help you with these," Arlecchino says curtly as she picks up a few boxes to bring to the kitchen. You pick up the last remaining boxes as you tail behind her.

As you and Arlecchino start unpacking and putting the treats on plates, you can't help but think of how different you expected Arlecchino to be. Clearly, her reputation precedes her. All the while your mind is drifting off to several different subjects, you don't notice the red-crossed eyes staring your way.

After the children finish eating, you stay a while, wanting to hear their opinion on the treats. As you basically survey them, you take the time to get to know some of them. Playing games with them and answering their unending questions.

As you realise you've overstayed your welcome, you say goodbye to the kids and quickly leave the orphanage. On your way back, you reach your hand into your purse, trying to take out your cherry flavored gum. You eventually find it but with it a little pink box brushes your hand. The cookie, you forgot to give it to Arlecchino.

Sat in her office, Arlecchino can't stop thinking about the kind-hearted baker she employed. Just looking at her interacting with the kids made something burn up inside of her. A little warmth that warms her cold, unfeeling heart. She looks out the window, hoping to have some reprieve from this strange feeling. Yet it seems the archons are against her wishes as she sees a certain baker running towards the orphanage. Almost tripping on her way. Even though it is foolish to entertain feelings for such a seemingly simple creature, Arlecchino can't help but grin at another interaction with her. Usually, she doesn't like to play with her food. But this time, she might make you an exception.

You stumble into the building as one of the kids, whom you now know is called Tealus, opens the door for you. With the pink box in hand, you stride through the halls looking for Arlecchino's office. As you ask one of the children, they point to the dark, long hallway without windows. How fitting. Your heels clicking softly as you walk over to her black office double doors. This place seems more like a villain's lair than an orphanage to you now, but you digress.

You knock 5 times in a specific pattern you were used to as a child when you hear a stern "Come in." You pull the golden doorhandle as the office window light starts flooding the hallway. You quickly close the door behind you as you step closer to her desk.

She does not look up from the paperwork on her desk as she multitasks without problem. "Why are you still here, baker." Just because she approves of your bond with the kids does not mean she will treat you differently from other people. "I saw there was nothing for you on the order list, so I made you something." You say proudly. You start rambling as you explain how you forgot to give it to her during breakfast.

She interrupts you as she reaches out her hand. "Can I see it?" You're flustered as you quickly hand her the box. She places it down gently on her desk as she lifts the packaging. Facing Arlecchino is a cookie with a white base, decorated with a black and red spider on top. "How adorable," Arlecchino mutters softly. Your soft 'huh' drives her back to reality as she responds. "I'm not very fond of sweet treats. I prefer savory things." She almost chuckles at the sight of your worried eyes locking with hers. "I can make you something else if you'd like? Hmm, although I can't think of many savory pasteries..." As you start naming some options, you reach for the cookie, trying to throw it away, but Arlecchino's quick reflexes hold your wrist before you can get close. "I thought you didn't like it?" Your confusion radiating off of you. "I never said such a thing. I merely said I prefer savory treats." She softly lets your wrist go as she stores the cookie on a desk extension behind her.

From then on, this has become routine, although some things have changed throughout the weeks. Instead of delivering the food alone, Arlecchino stops by early in the morning to help you carry them. Sometimes, it results in small talk when you haven't finished packing the orders yet.

Usually, she doesn't speak much and lets you do all the talking. You fear she's getting annoyed from your constant ramblings, but unbeknownst to you, she loves it when you talk about your interests and things you love.

This was a bit short, but if you wanna see a specific trope with this situation, you can req anything you wantt!!

Might do a part 2 of this idk yet

[chvoswxtch]

we got a problem

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you discover a shocking revelation about who's behind the defenders of freedom.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns & violence

word count: 4k

a/n: this chapter is a little on the shorter side, but it does contain a huge bombshell. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

If someone had told you six months ago that you would be going shopping with Frank Castle, you would’ve done more than laugh maniacally; you would’ve recommended that they get a psychological evaluation. Hell, even seventy-two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed it. But here you were, in the women’s section, sifting through hangers and stacks of clothing with Frank following you closer than your own shadow, listening to his quiet grunts of irreverence and faint hums of approval when your fingers wandered over different items.

“I don’t get what the big deal is ‘bout this place. It’s just a store.”

All at once, your palm paused over a dark blue pair of jeans, and you looked up at Frank in a mock expression of horror while clutching your hand over your chest. 

“Target isn’t just a store, Frank. It’s a way of life. And we happen to be in a Super Target, which means not only do they have literally everything you could ever want, but there’s a built-in makeup store and a Starbucks.”

Frank rolled his eyes in exasperation and grumbled under his breath as he lifted the white grande cup up on cue, which looked comically tiny in his large hand, and brought it up to his lips to take a sip of the black coffee he had gotten.

“Yeah, don’t remind me I paid seven fuckin’ dollars for one goddamn cup of coffee.”

“Technically you paid eighteen because you were kind enough to buy my iced latte.”

“Is it even still a latte when you ask for fifteen extra fuckin’ shots of espresso?”

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you arched one of your brows and placed your hands on your hips while looking up at Frank. 

“I asked for two extra shots-“

“When it already came with four-“

“I don’t need to explain my caffeine intake to you. Now, if you’re finished with your interrogation, can you tell me how long we plan to be on the run for?”

A slight crease nestled between Frank’s brows while his features twisted into a look of incomprehension. Shoving one of his large hands into his jean pocket, he pursed his lips slightly in conjunction with shrugging his broad shoulders.

“However long it takes to figure out who’s behind this shit.”

“And…exactly how many outfits and tubes of toothpaste does that translate into?”

“Just get whatever ya want.”

Pinching at the bridge of your nose, you inhaled deeply and let out a slow breath before crossing your arms over your chest and staring up at Frank. 

“I don’t know how much you think journalists make, but I can’t exactly-“

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, I’m buyin’.”

Those words were certainly not what you were expecting to come from Frank’s mouth, and the shock was evident on your features. While you stared up at him, completely stunned, Frank gave a light shake of his head with a miniscule charming smile and took another sip of his coffee.

“You can’t use any of your credit cards. They could be trackin’ your bank accounts to figure out where you are.”

“I could pull out-“

“You use an ATM to get cash, they’ll know which one you pulled it from, and that gives ‘em a location. As far as they know, you’re dead somewhere. The longer they think that, the more time we got to figure this shit out.”

“Frank-“

“Just put the goddamn stuff in the cart, and finish your liquid heart attack. We got shit to do.”

Realizing that Frank was serious about his offer, a part of you felt guilty for all the items currently in your cart. You weren’t high maintenance by any means-okay maybe a little, but a girl has needs. You couldn’t get by with three shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a three in one bath product like Frank could. 

On the other hand, you were curious to see exactly how much you could get away with, and the urge to press his buttons was oh so tempting. A devious grin stretched slowly across your lips, and Frank narrowed his eyes at you in suspicion when he noticed the mischievous twinkle in your gaze.

“Well, if you insist.”

Dropping the jeans into the cart with a satisfied smirk, you pushed the cart over towards the makeup section in the middle of the store and could hear a disgruntled Frank muttering an ‘aw hell’ under his breath as he followed right behind you, much to your amusement, which caused laughter to bubble up from your chest. 

Shopping with Frank was your new favorite activity.

»»———　　———««

“How them sheets feel?”

A faint smirk curled at the edge of your mouth as you glanced at Frank over your shoulder from where you were laying on your stomach on one of the comfortable beds. He had managed to find a decent hotel outside the city, and got a room with two beds much to your disappointment, but anything was an upgrade compared to the seedy motel the two of you had camped out in the previous night.

“Like clouds.”

Frank raised one of his dark brows in silent amusement while looking over at you from his spot at the desk by the window. He let out a quiet grunt in response before his features morphed back in pure concentration while he averted his gaze back down to the gun he was currently cleaning. For a moment you completely forgot what you were doing and just watched him, completely mesmerized. His large hands moved methodically, but so fluidly as he cleaned each piece and re-assembled the weapon, like it was second nature and something he could probably do with ease in his sleep. The way his fingers were gliding over the pieces had your mind suddenly wandering to what else Frank’s hands might be good at. 

“Find anythin’ yet?”

Frank’s gruff voice tore you out of your impure thoughts, and your cheeks burned with heat realizing you had spent the past three minutes gawking at him. Clearing your throat, you turned your attention back to the documents in front of you, willing the black and white text to come back into focus as you found the paragraph you had left off on.

“Um…it seems like all the permits and the deed for the land are registered to a company called Fortis Allied. I can’t find a name attached to it, but all the paperwork is fairly recent. Everything looks like it was filed within the last year.”

“You say fortis? Like f-o-r-t-i-s?”

“Does that ring a bell for you?”

“It’s Latin.”

Scrunching up your brows, you turned your head to look at Frank again in a mixture of puzzlement and surprise.

“You know Latin?”

Frank had leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, his legs spread slightly making his lap look like an extremely comfortable and inviting seat. He held onto the handle of the gun in one hand and the rag he had been using to clean the pieces in the other, his dark brows knit as he stared over at you with his eyes squinted slightly in curiosity, like he was deep in thought about something.

“Marines’ got a motto, Semper Fidelis. It’s Latin, means always faithful. Navy’s got one kinda similar; Semper Fortis.”

Frank clicked his tongue against his cheek as he let out a dry and humorless scoff that only fueled your confusion further.

“And why is that funny?”

“Cause it means always courageous. And if these are the assholes we think they are, that’s pretty goddamn ironic.”

Staring down at the slew of papers spread on the bed in front before you, Frank’s Latin lesson presented more questions than it answered, and your lips pursed slightly.

“Defenders of Freedom and Courageous Allied. Their creativity is astounding.”

Frank snickered quietly behind you hearing the dry sarcasm seeping from your voice. Letting out a sigh of frustration, you reached for your phone that was charging on the nightstand. It had been dead for the past seventy-two hours, and as soon as it turned on, you had an overwhelming amount of missed calls and texts from people who thought you were either missing or dead, or both. About eighty percent of the missed calls and frantic voicemails were from Ellison, but to your surprise, there were quite a few missed calls and texts from Billy as well.

You had made sure to turn off your location so that your phone couldn’t be tracked, and Frank had been adamant about you shutting off your imessage. Deciding you had raised your boss’ blood pressure enough for three days, you sat up cross legged on the bed and grabbed one of the paper’s from the bed that had all the company’s information on it.

“I’m gonna call Ellison and see-”

“No.”

Looking over at Frank in surprise, you let out a quiet scoff of incredulity. 

“Frank, I have to tell him I’m alive. And he can help us-”

“The less people know you’re alive right now, the better. I told you, we can’t trust nobody right now.”

Dragging your palm down your face slowly in irritation, you shook your head in a show of defiance.

“I’m pretty sure my boss isn’t one of the people trying to kill me-”

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes Frank, I do. Ellison is practically the closest thing to family I have in this city, and considering that his best friend, and my mentor, was murdered by Wilson Fisk, I can say with absolute certainty that he is not involved in this shit.”

Frank’s hardened features softened slightly hearing the slight twinge of grief that resonated in your tone, and he was looking at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes of his that normally made your knees weak. But right now that infatuating sight was no match for the heaviness of guilt that filled your entire rib cage like raw cement every time you thought about Ben. 

You swallowed the pebble that threatened to swell into a boulder in your throat and stared down at your phone screen, your thumb hovering over Ellison’s contact.

“Fisk was never charged with murder.”

Frank’s voice sounded almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should be saying that, but it was clear he was looking for an explanation behind your accusation, even though he wasn’t outright asking. It was almost eerie how he always seemed to know when to explicitly ask you something, and when to craft an open invitation to let you come to him.

“Ben was writing a story about him. He was going to expose him for who he really was. He got too close, and Fisk killed him for it. He broke into his home and strangled him to death, but he didn’t leave any fingerprints or evidence, and his hard drive was wiped clean. Ben’s d-his case is still considered an unsolved homicide.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Frank slowly stand up from the chair he was sitting in. He tentatively took a few steps towards you and sat down on the edge of the bed next to you, his eyes searching your avoidant gaze.

“What makes you so sure that’s what happened though?”

“Because I pushed him into doing the story.”

The way your voice slightly broke off towards the end of your sentence broke Frank’s heart. The remorse you felt was evident as it rose along your waterline.

“He didn’t wanna do the story. He told me to let it go, and I didn’t. If I had just left it alone-”

Frank wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in closer towards him, cradling your head against his chest as he held you close and kept his voice soft.

“Hey, hey…don’t do that. Don’t put that on yourself. Whatever happened, it ain’t your fault, you got that? Don’t take the blame for somethin’ that someone else did. He did the story cause he knew you were right, yeah? He believed in you, sweetheart. And that piece of shit Fisk is rottin’ in prison where he belongs, gettin’ exactly what he’s got comin’ to ‘em, trust me.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head as he slowly carded his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. 

“I just feel like it’s all my fault. Like I…I could’ve prevented it.”

For a moment Frank was silent. Eventually he let out a heavy exhale through his large nose and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“I know.”

The deafted way he spoke those two words made it sound like Frank was telling you that he knew exactly what you were feeling, and an ominous thought crossed your mind as you found yourself wondering if he felt that way about his wife’s death. 

He let go of your head and reached into his pocket, pulling out the burner phone that he used. Frank handed the flip phone to you, and you lifted your head to stare up at him curiously. 

“Let ‘em know you’re alright, but make sure he knows it’s important no one else knows nothin’ ‘bout you, yeah?”

“You can trust him, Frank. He’ll help us.”

»»———　　———««

Forty five minutes later, you managed to calm an absolutely hysterical and pissed off Ellison, changed his mind about firing you once you were no longer considered missing/dead, and caught him up on everything that had happened since the night you were attacked three days ago. He agreed to help you and Frank do some digging into the company listed on the permits for the warehouse that burnt down, and in addition to emailing you everything he could find about the company, he also sent you copies of the reports on the two men that had attacked you.

“You were right.”

Frank’s head instantly snapped over in your direction, and his thick brows rose up his forehead slightly in bewilderment.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Cavella and Walker were in the Navy.”

Holding out your phone for Frank to see, you showed him the article you were currently reading on your phone that had a picture of the two men in their Naval uniform. Frank seemed to completely ignore your comment and was looking at you instead of the screen.

“You mind repeatin’ that?”

“I said Cav-”

“Nah, what you said before that ‘bout me bein’ right.”

As you caught the delighted smirk that tugged at the edge of Frank’s mouth, you rolled your eyes playfully and shook your head with a soft laugh, returning your attention to the article.

“Shut up, I tell you when you’re right.”

“Yeah, only after I gotta fix that bratty attitude of yours. The other ninety nine percent of the time, you gotta fight with me ‘bout every goddamn little thing.”

“Don’t be so fun to argue with, and I’ll stop.”

Lighty shrugging your shoulders with a faint mischievous grin on your lips, Frank shook his head and let out a dry scoff in response.

“Ya’know, you remind me of another hot-headed smartass I know.”

“Your other favorite person?”

“He’s the fuckin’ Devil, and a goddamn pain in my ass. Hell of a lawyer, though. You oughta think ‘bout switchin’ professions and arguin’ for a livin’. Think you could give even him a run for his money.”

For some reason that made you laugh loudly. The kind of carefree laugh where you throw your head back like a little kid, eyes crinkling, stomach aching with pure joy. Frank was the first person to make you laugh like that in a long time.

“I’m perfectly happy where I’m at. Besides, I’m pretty sure I would be disbarred within the first hour. I don’t think you’re allowed to tell the opposing court to go fuck themselves when they say something out of pocket.”

“Pretty sure you ain’t allowed to throw shit at ‘em either.”

Turning your head to glare playfully over at Frank, he returned it instantly with a challenging arch of his dark brow. You couldn’t fight the grin that slowly stretched across your lips seeing the faux serious look on his face.

“I threw a pillow at you.”

“Two pillows. Hard as hell, too.”

“I had no idea you were so sensitive.”

“I’m fuckin’ delicate, goddamn it.”

The mock expression of offense on Frank’s face coupled with the serious tone of his voice made you double over with laughter. He couldn’t seem to keep his composure either, and he began to laugh along with you. Shaking your head slowly, you waved your hand at him dismissively and turned your attention back to your phone.

“Okay, I’m trying to solve a case here. Stop distracting me. I have more than two pillows in my arsenal right now.”

“That a threat?”

“It’s a promise, Castle.”

“I had no idea you were so ruthless.”

Frank grumbled quietly under his breath as he looked through the stack of papers with the ghost of a smile on his lips while you softly laughed, his dark eyes scanning the pages for anything either of you might have missed. 

As you looked through the documents Ellison had emailed you about Fortis Allied, perplexity creased in the middle of your forehead the more you looked through each page.

“It’s not a real company.”

“What?”

“Fortis Allied. It’s…it’s like a shell company. It’s just a front. And it’s owned by…”

As you read the signature on one of the forms you were looking at, your confusion melted into an expression of cognizance. Enlarging the signature, you turned to show your screen to Frank, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he read the letters, before his face shifted into a look of indignation.

“Son of a bitch.”

Owned and operated by Nicolas Cavella.

Before either of you could say anything, Frank’s phone started to ring. He glanced down at and read the name flashing across the screen, giving you a quick glance before flipping it open to answer.

“Yeah?”

He stood up and walked over towards the window, leaning against the wall with his back to you. Curiosity got the better of you, and your eyes fixated on him as you watched him intently.

“Been takin’ care of somethin’. What do ya need?” His voice sounded a little rougher than usual, and you caught the way he tensed slightly and watched as his eyes flickered over at you over his shoulder. You arched one of your brows silently, as if asking him who he was talking to and what was going on.

“Yeah…I know. Cause I turned ‘em off. You know why, Bill. Yeah, she’s fine.”

Billy.

It abruptly dawned on you that you weren’t sure if Frank had told Billy what happened. He was technically supposed to be with Steven right now. Where did Billy think Frank was? What had Frank told him? Why wasn’t Frank letting him help?

In the midst of your chaotic inner monologue, Frank’s head dropped between his shoulders for a moment and he let out a heavy exhale before turning to stare over at you with an unreadable expression.

“She’s with me.”

The way Frank said that sent a shiver cascading down your spine, and the room suddenly felt twenty degrees hotter. You watched as he lightly clenched his jaw and nodded, as if Billy were in the room and not on the other end of the line.

“Be there in an hour.”

Without another word, Frank snapped his phone shut, and you watched him inquisitively.

“What was that about?”

“I gotta go check in with Bill. That trustfund asshole is throwin’ a fit ‘bout me not bein’ ‘round.”

While Frank started to gather his wallet and his gun, you quickly got down from the bed, feeling your pulse start to quicken at the thought of him leaving.

“Wait, I thought Steven didn’t want you around?”

“And I didn’t wanna be ‘round, but I guess you gettin’ kidnapped and two cops gettin’ shot spooked ‘em. I won’t be gone long.”

Before Frank could take another step, you grabbed your bag and started to gather up all the paperwork back into the folder.

“I’m coming.”

Frank paused while reaching for his black denim jacket. He let out a deep exhale as she shook his head and motioned towards the bed for you to sit.

“It ain’t safe for you to be in the city right now. Just stay here and I’ll be-”

“Frank, we already talked about this. I’m safer with you, okay?”

“It’s only an hour away-”

“I don’t care if it’s five minutes down the street, I don’t want to be without you.”

Alone. You had meant to say, ‘I don’t want to be alone’. But the words had already left your lips, and Frank was already staring at you with that one look in his eyes that you could never seem to decode. He didn’t hesitate like he did when you asked to come on the stakeout with him. He walked over towards the door of the hotel room and opened it, gesturing with his head for you to follow him, and before you knew it, the New York City skyline was coming into view.

»»———　　———««

When Frank pulled up to the Anvil office and put his truck in park, he turned his head to look at you with a somewhat stern gaze.

“Just stay in the truck, alright? Won’t be long.”

“Okay.”

For a minute, Frank’s thick brows knit together before they rose up his forehead an inch, like he was shocked you simply agreed instead of arguing with him about coming in. He eyed you warily for another moment before letting out a quiet grunt and getting out, closing the driver side door behind himself. While you watched him march up the front steps of Anvil, it was incredibly amusing to see how many people rushed to get out of his way. You weren’t sure if it was because they knew him and knew to stay out of his way, or if it was because of his physical stature and the permanent broody look etched onto his sharp features. Either way, you couldn’t help but laugh.

While you sat there in the truck looking through your phone, you noticed that there was a red notification dot lingering over your voice notes app. Clicking on the app curiously, you were met with an error message that read “Failed to capture full recording”. Immediately you were puzzled, and then you noticed that your last recording was over four hours. When you checked the date and saw it was from three days ago, a soft gasp left your lips.

You had never stopped the recording with Walker and Cavella.

Your phone must have just kept recording until it eventually died. With everything that had happened the past three days, you had almost forgotten about the recording entirely. Pressing the play button, you turned up the volume and listened to the playback.

The sound of glass shattering and bullets flying along with your own panicked scream had you wincing and pulling the phone away from your ear. The sounds of one of the most traumatic nights of your life had your stomach twisting into anxious knots, and you felt the phantom pain in your bandaged hand of glass slicing it open all over again. But just as you were about to turn it off, something caught your attention and made your ears perk up.

Rewinding the recording a few seconds, you pressed play again.

“Pr…we…ot…fuc…lem.”

The sound of bullets being fired in the background made it difficult to make out the words. You rewound it a few seconds and played it again, furrowing your brows as you listened intently.

“Pr…we..got..fuc…problem.”

After quickly downloading one of those music recording apps on your phone, you imported the clip from the voice memo and tried to figure out how to isolate the audio to where you could hear it better. As you pressed play this time and listened, you could hear Cavella’s frantic shouting clear as day, and his words made your blood run cold.

“Price, we got a fucking problem!”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @twoshields @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @annalism @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @fearne-calloways-wife @cuntghoulie @marcysbear @lunaticgurly @xxdrixx @pretzelcows @aoi-targaryen @callacats @iloveabeltesfayehehe @keshaia @dumb-fawkin-bitch @lilylilyyyyyy

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[suzyblue0292]

Rewatch - Dead Boy Detectives S1E2 - The Case of the Dandelion Shrine

Is this a functioning cannery?

Edwin being their diplomat is both horrifying and hilarious, but yeah, he is actually the best choice. 

I always knew if my cat could talk he’d be an asshole.

I can’t tell how much of the seduction is real and how much is a play to get the bracelet on…

The fear on Edwin’s face as he backs off. 

I’m not sure it’s consensual if you smack a caging spell on someone first…

I wonder if the cat king returned him hours later on purpose to screw with them - it makes Edwin’s story so suspect to Charles because - how could that be all that happened - you were gone for hours!

Edwin is so stressed out and striking out at everyone. Also this makes 2 times he has mentioned hell. 

Poor Jenny does not get paid enough for this shit. 

Obviously they have not traveled much if they don’t know the mail gets forwarded.

And the sad moment we all realized it was not psychic lesbian love. 

“You’re a cursed walrus. That’s cool.” Oh Charles.

Charles does smile a LOT.

Esther was totally planning revenge before she knew they were stuck. Oh, deary me. I love her so much. 

Where do doctors still make house calls? Is it because he really is such a crap doctor?

I don’t think Edwin doesn’t care - he’s trusting Charles to handle Crystal - while he observes and puts together evidence. 

Honestly, Edwin a simple “We can’t talk to the living, you can.” Would have sufficed. Yes, Charles, stop being so nice. Western doctors refuse to treat women with any seriousness even when it’s not a magical malady so let’s not give Dr. Dehydration any props here. 

Married bickering. 

Crystal, while I don’t begrudge you poking through someone else’s library, those letters are not your business. 

Edwin’s repetitive use of “hysteria” cracks me up.

More married bickering. Right until it looks like Edwin could hurt himself, then Charles is so soothing.

Also, which one of them is more obsessed with the Cat King?

Poor Charles. Also, when you consider that Edwin’s calmness is because he’s seen so much worse, poor Edwin.

Crystal, all you do is talk about it.

Boarding school is a theme in this show. 

Everyone was staring because of the sprites, so she had to drop out of school. 

Where do all of Crystal’s clothes come from?

Niko looks so delighted at the prospect of Crystal being insane. She really is delightful.

So much of Edwin’s rudeness comes from a place of concern.

Are those women twins?

A dead child causes more trouble than a live one. Tell me how you really feel about children, Nurse Lady.

Such a cute map Niko.

I think Edwin liked, or at least respected his father. He is quoting him a hundred years after his death. I wonder if he didn’t have a better homelife than Charles and that is why he looks so stricken when Charles says “lets not talk about dads.” He doesn’t really understand that Charles was abused - in part because Charles hasn’t shared that and in part because our idea of abuse has changed over time. However - it should be noted that when Edwin himself was a small child there were reform movements, and anti-child abuse laws passed in England, so it isn’t fair to assume he was abused or would have no understanding of the notion. 

I love the relationship we’re seeing between these two. Charles’ gentle comments about Edwin’s “old-timey insults” immediately elicits a promise to be nicer from Edwin. 

Then his comments about liking Crystal because she’s like Edwin get this soft smile from Edwin and he breaks down and admits he isn’t upset with Crystal but himself. Charles is so quick to put the blame on the Cat King - even though he could scold Edwin for trapping the cat.

How does a ghost break a bone on the mortal plane? 

“I went with grab it.” Charles I love you.

“ANOTHER discussion about your impetuous behavior.” “Sure, mate.” Charles does shit like this all the time, clearly. 

The teacher in me feels such kinship with Jenny.  I wish I could say “cut the weird shit.” God knows I think it a lot. 

Me too Edwin. Me too.

I think we all sleep on how brilliant Charles really is. While Edwin and Crystal are bickering he’s reading the book and coming up with a solution.

Why does the jar float in thin air but not the book?

Edwin does care about Crystal. 

Okay Crystal’s speech to the sprite’s is so sad, but does anyone else expect a lion and hyenas to start a musical number when she says “you’ll never go hungry again”?

So rude that the sprites could just always “exit the body” this way but instead explode people. 

Love the sprites.

“But also dangerous and unprofessional. Do not do it again.” Is Edwin for “I care about you and you frightened me. Which Charles damn well knows. I suppose it would embarrass Edwin (and probably Crystal) for him to point that out though.

Charles please stop. We’re all in pain here.

Love Niko’s confidence.

Charles is so happy to collect new friends. 

Oh my god. So many ghosts.

Esther, my queen. 

The spellwork sequence is so cool. 

I know Monty comes off all sweet later but his grin is evil. 

[cerise-on-top]

Got any Farah, Valeria, & Laswell hcs? Anything, really- I'm dying for my girls 🤲🤲🤲

Hello! Yeah, I was able to come up with a few! I already wrote a few for Valeria here! Somehow, I forgot to put them in my masterlist, though, which I have since fixed! Thank you for making me aware of this, though :-) These are general Headcanons, though, since I had an easier time coming up with those and because you didn't specify, I hope that's okay!

Valeria, Farah and Laswell HCs

Valeria: She’s always had quite the temper, even when she was young. While she may not have been spoiled to hell and back as a child, she usually got what she wanted, as long as it wasn’t something extraordinarily big, her parents always took care of her like that. Valeria loved her mother, they got along very well with each other, and she also took after her, having inherited her personality for the most part. Her father was a bit calmer than the two of them, but that didn’t mean they didn’t get along either. Whereas her mother would encourage her to do most things, her father would try to talk sense into her if it was a bad idea. She often sulked because of it, which is why she didn’t like her father as much as her mother, but as she got older she realized he meant well. Sometimes she still thinks about his advice, but the both of them died a long time ago, so most things they’ve told her are a distant memory by now. Valeria may be successful with what she’s doing and doesn’t like being told what to do, but sometimes she does wish she could still eat some sweets with her parents like she used to.

Joining the military actually wasn’t her first choice of career. She tried many places, but no one would take her, so she opted for the military, which welcomed her with open arms. She got paid. Not well, but she received the money, which was important since her parents couldn’t leave her with too much. They didn’t have very much either, so there wasn’t much to be inherited. Because she’s a woman, a few creeps tried to harass her, but she had none of it and beat all three of them up herself and on her own. Ever since that incident she wasn’t a big fan of the military either, but no other place would take her. However, it showed just how capable she was and earned her a lot of respect. A few other men would try to make advances towards her, but she shot them down every time. However, whenever another female soldier would jokingly flirt with her, that’s when she’d give it her all, making it her goal to fluster her beyond all hell. She’s spent a few evenings and nights with a few female soldiers, but was always willing to rip a male soldier’s dick off if he was being too friendly with her. During her time as a soldier she also realized that she preferred women.

She didn’t always hate Alejandro, actually. Back in the day, they got along very well. He was a man, yes, but he had enough respect for her. It wasn’t a given, even if it should have been, but she appreciated it. Whenever they sparred he gave it his all as well and never looked down on her. In his eyes, the two of them were equals and it showed. Valeria could appreciate that. She liked him, she spent a night with him but realized she hated that sort of stuff with men. He was the final realization for her that Valeria does not like men. It didn’t make her hate him at first, though. Only when he insisted on the two of them being a thing did she develop some form of disdain for him. Once she told him that she could never feel the same way, he stopped. However, he also started treating her a bit differently since he was in love with her. As he rose in ranks, he was a bit harsher on her than the other soldiers, usually dissatisfied with anything she did. He didn’t even notice that, but Valeria did. Therefore he became just another scum to her.

Farah: Before her town got attacked, she actually had a pretty happy childhood. She was sweet and kind as a kid, she got along well with her parents and her brother and she had a few close friends. Farah loved going outside to play, sometimes even inviting her parents to make potions with her in a bucket filled with water, sand and rocks. Her parents were always afraid of the Russians invading and tried to keep their children safe regardless of what happened, but in the end they were unable to. It hit Farah pretty hard, she loved her parents. Even now she misses them dearly since they always took such good care of her and her brother. At least she still had her brother. Farah knew she was the younger one out of the two of them, so she likely should have been the one to be protected, but once her town got attacked she became determined to make sure her brother would stay with her. Drastic times called for drastic measures, so she actually has killed people just so her brother could stay alive. It was around that time that other people realized how she was a very caring person still and could be trusted. Slowly, through that realization, she was able to gather a small force that could help her.

Farah is a pretty good leader. The people she works with adore her because, under that rough exterior, she’s still a good person. All her brothers and sisters know she can be trusted with just about anything. She rarely ever says no upon hearing a request of one of her people, knowing fully well what it’s like to need something. As she’s been through a lot herself, she always has an open ear for her brothers and sisters. While there’s not always time to listen to everyone’s concerns, if she does have time she’ll listen to you intently. Farah knows a lot more about her people than she lets on, that ranges from how the latest battle has gone to how her sister’s family is doing. She’s never one to turn down someone in need, always offering food and shelter. I know she may seem stern, because she has to be in order to be a good leader, but deep down she’s still the same kind girl that she’s always been. Her people would give up just about anything for her, and they do. One day, Farah dreams, Urzikstan will be free, it will be safe and it will prosper, its people won’t have anything to fear anymore. Trade will continue, the people will be happy and she can finally lay down her weary head and rest for a bit. But until then, she swore she’ll fight and fight until everything is finally over.

She’s never actually been in love. When she had the chance to develop a crush she was too young. Now that she’s older she doesn’t have time for anything lovey dovey in the slightest. Alex was the first person she ever developed a crush on. He may have seemed like an enemy at first, but it quickly enough became evident that that couldn’t be further from the truth. He was a good man, someone who could be trusted no matter what. He was loyal to a fault as well, which Farah could appreciate. However, she never told him, swallowing her feelings down instead no matter how intense they became. Yet, she sort of did always look forward to his small gestures of affection. Alex is a physically affectionate guy, so he’d sometimes pat her shoulder, put a hand on her shoulder or gently bump her arm to show he liked her. Farah is severely touch starved, so it made for a good combination. One time, he asked if she would like a hug, to which she said yes. To this day, Farah thinks about that hug since it was the first one she had received in seven or eight years. It may not have seemed like she was swayed at the time, but she was very content afterwards.

Laswell: Laswell’s parents didn’t really care too much for her. Don’t get me wrong, they provided for her physical needs, but they barely looked after her in any other regard, thinking she was happy because she had everything she could ever need. Laswell may have been strong because of it, even then, but she did wish her parents had cared more about other things as well, such as how she was doing emotionally. There were quite a few things that hurt her during her childhood, but she barely had anyone who would support her during her rough times. Her parents only ever wanted to see her happy and content, but barely made any effort to actually keep her as such. Laswell knew fairly early on that she was a lesbian and did come out to her parents, but that’s all that happened. It was never discussed again afterwards, even if her father would sometimes say that she would “find the right guy eventually” while talking to other people. Laswell has called him out on it numerous times, but he always made it about him and how he was the victim for saying something that made his daughter uncomfortable. Laswell didn’t stay in contact with her parents for very long once she moved out.

Even back when she was a child, Laswell knew she wanted to do something more exciting than be a hairdresser, waitress or cook. She wanted to do something with plenty of action, but at the same time she wanted to study and go to university. And thus she combined her wishes and started going to university at first. Afterwards, sometime in her twenties, she started to work for the CIA. She wasn’t treated with very much respect there at first, being a woman working there and all. But she didn’t let that disrespect get her down. In fact, on the outside, she stayed professional, but on the inside she took mental notes on who treated her badly and who didn’t. It soon enough became evident that Laswell knew what she was doing, even if her master’s degree should have been proof enough that there was some intelligence in that noggin of hers. However, soon enough she was transferred. In fact, she was transferred many times before she became a station chief, but it only showed just how competent she was in her field. Laswell has since saved thousands of lives and is proud of it. To her, such a thing is her calling and she wants to continue doing so for as long as she can, all the dangers be damned.

Laswell adores her wife. In fact, “Laswell” isn’t her original last name, she took that of her wife. At first they played with the idea of combining their names, but Laswell wanted fairly little to do with her parents at that point. Plus she wanted to show her father that she never “found the right guy”. So her being named Laswell is purely out of spite. While she may not be at home all the time, or very often, for that matter, she makes sure to bring her wife a gift every time she comes home. It can be something small, such as a souvenir she found while she was abroad, or it could be something along the lines of a golden ring that unfolds into an astronomical sphere. She needs to pamper her wife like that and make sure she knows Laswell loves her to the moon and back. Money isn’t an issue for her, she gets paid very well. Even if the biggest reward for her doing what she does is seeing her wife smile. Every time she sees her give her a big smile she’s reminded of why she does what she does, and that’s the most wonderful thing for her. Even so, not many people know about Laswell’s wife, only a select few do. It’s a safety measure since she knows people will target her. Although she’s a diplomatic kind of person, if anyone ever were to hurt her wife, then that person can be certain they’ll never walk freely among the sunlight again.

[crosby-interesting]

I used to think I don’t about love & infidelity as long as there is money & a desirable lifestyle. Now at 25, seeing the dynamic of the stay at home girlfriend relationships something in my brain switched. At that glitters truly isn’t gold. After a few yrs of being with a rich man, don’t you they realize the riches start to become ordinary? At age 40, will curated instagram posts of ur “relationship goals” & designer goods still distract from the blandness of the relationship in the same way it did in ur 20s-30s? If the relationship is transactional; ur youth & beauty, exchanged for his money & fame, don’t u realize this dynamic does not lean towards ur benefit as a woman? Don’t they realize superficial relationships such as these once ur youth fades his gaze will wander? Selling ur youth to a man who isn’t sure of u is a betrayal to urself. He can divorce at 55, still be rich, create a new family with a 25 yr old version of u while ur now age 55 depending on monthly checks from him, with a few of his kids & a old house he left u. Will u, a woman, start over as easily as he did at age 55 getting a 25 yr old to marry & play step parent ? Good luck with that. Youth for women is what money is for men. The difference is, one is fleeting & majority of wags fail to realize that. The man can find a way to earn more money, the woman, (despite surgeries & creams) can not find a way to earn more youth. This is why it’s crucial to marry a man that is boastful of u, respects, & through his actions has proven commitment. Connor Mcdavid cheated on Lauren Kyle in the peak of her youth, so what’s stopping him from cheating when she’s 50 & he, a man of status & wealth, can still attract 20 yr olds with no effort? They dated 9 YEARS, yet he magically proposes 1 yr after being caught on video cheating? Connor publicly humiliated Lauren & didn’t respect her enough to publicly apologize. Kobe Bryant who had cheating allegations admitted at a press conference to his infidelity & publicly apologized for the shame he brought to his wife. Connor didn’t just have allegations he was on VIDEO cheating, yet didn’t bother to to post even a pathetic generic IG story apologizing in Lauren’s honor,he rather let his fans call Lauren a gold digger & doormat under her IG pictures still to this day. But his sudden urge to propose 1yr after cheating makes it better, right? Coincidently 1 yr after Connor conveniently proposed, his other lap dog Leon Drasaital magically felt the same urge as Connor & proposes after 7 YEARS of dating Celeste Desjardins & oddly 2 weeks before Connor’s wedding. 7 yrs dating a man whose trying to finish school, or work up to financially provide is understandable. But 7 yrs of dating is a lifetime when the man has nothing to worry about besides being paid millions to literally play a game while u wait tending to his home playing house keeper & dog watcher. Did Leon know Celeste was the one? No. But he did know he wants to keep up with the one he prioritizes, captain Mcdavid (who by the way didn’t bother to claim Leon as a best man…) So Lauren with a man who publicly cheated, doesn’t respect respect or protect her, looks as “excited” with her as he does when doing post game media. And Celeste, with a man who kept her as a placeholder for 7 years, until out of pressure finally decided he was ready to commit to marriage despite the fact she’s been committed to centering her world around him, so much that for the past 5 yrs she been publicly online making imaginary wedding Pinterest boards & uploading pictures with him on Pinterest with the tags #couplegoals #wag #Nhlwag #model #hockeyWags and also started following engagement ring accounts and various accounts about “tips advice to getting a man to commit” on IG 3 days after her bestie got engaged. A fairytale manufactured inside of a misogynistic nightmare is the only way to describe these 2 relationships. This is all my meaningless observation of course. Time will tell. Actions will speak for themselves, as they always do. I’ve seen this story before.

-🇲🇽

#WillYouStillLoveMeWhenImNoLongerYoungAndBeautiful #LaurenDesjardins sorry i meant #LaurenKyle and #CelesteDesjardins #LeonMcdavid sorry I meant #LeonDraisaitl and #ConnorMcCheater aka #ConnorMcdavid

That was brilliant! I'm sure many here will unconditionally agree with you! Thank you

The girls from Edmonton still have time to have children and provide for themselves based on this fact. But those who did not receive a ring or a child and lost decades on an unequal union - they are in complete ass

[prettyrealm]

monsta x i.m mini personality reading

this reading is a paid commision, thank you so much for trusting in me! <3 celebrity commissions • personal commissions

+ positives

a pretty easy going guy, accepting of how life works in general (“it is what it is”, “if it comes let it, if it goes, let it” mentality). he doesn’t try to control things that he can’t and doesn’t fret over it. i.m really seems to appreciate women, he thinks women deserve rights and truly believes they are equal to (and in some cases, better and stronger than) men. for ex, if he was with a woman richer or more famous than him, he would simply be very proud to be with her. he tries to understand the struggles women go through, he’s very understanding of even negative traits displayed by women (he doesn’t expect women to be perfect and understands we go through a lot). i.m is humble in a sense that he doesn’t think he’s better or worse than anyone else - “I’m just a regular human being, the same as anyone”. he is very individualistic and unique. he knows how to appreciate luxury without being materialistic. i.m wants to have a truly strong love and marriage where both parties are really good people to each other - he wants to grow with someone. he isn’t a jealous person - if people around him are smarter, funnier, more charismatic etc. than him, rather than being envious or jealous, he’s just happy to have that sort of energy around him (this is also because his self-confidence is strong enough to know that someone being funnier or smarter than him doesn’t make him unfunny or not smart). i.m tends to have a lot of faith in life and the universe to the point where when bad things happen he just thinks “it wont be like this forever” (so in this sense he has a very positive and optimistic outlook). he’s open-minded and may even try to educate himself on issues that happen in other countries, again a very accepting person (like it’s unlikely for him to be homophobic for example). I think he has a healthy relationship with sex. he is not a lazy person - just because he believe things work out like they’re supposed to doesn’t mean he’s lazy and only going to wait for good things to come to him, he knows he needs to put in effort so he still goes after what he wants. he has a positive view of and healthy relationship to family (it’s likely something he wants, and his appreciation for women likely comes from a good example set by his parents/his own mother or women he grew up around)

- negatives

i.m can be a bit paranoid, untrusting and very distant. he is super closed off - he does not open up easily at all, when he does open up it’s pretty superficial. he can be bad at letting people know what’s going on with him - like he’ll tell you he ended up breaking up his gf, but you didn’t even know he had a gf in the first place (just the vibe of never fully knowing what’s going on with him). due to being so untrusting, he always wants to know way more about other people he meets before he’s willing to open up to them. he may even lie a bit to protect himself due to this (like if he gets the feeling that you’re prying way too much and not understanding that he doesn’t want to open up to you, he will lie to you to get you off his back.) i.m really wants a close relationship, but he fails to realize he can’t expect next level loyalty and devotion from a woman he refuses to even open up to (he struggles to understand equality/give and take in this sense). since he finds it so hard to trust people, he may even reach for red flags and cause arguments over things he’s made up in his head (“do you even really wanna be with me? I can’t tell.”), he will later realize he’s acted out and apologize, but it still kills the vibe and puts the other person unnecessarily on edge (even if he isn��t accusing them of super bad things). he just needs a lot of proof you’ll really be there for him before letting people in. and while he has self confidence, he can be overly confident (not necessarily arrogant), but he can have big and unrealistic goals due to his unwavering faith in the universe, i think it’s likely he even has a problem with actual gambling due to this. he can be a bit irresponsible overall due to his “sky’s the limit” mentality. I think he may also be stuck on a “first love” or “the one that got away” so it’s hard for him to let other women in.

[romanticatheartt]

What do you think Rhys is referring to when he said Nesta is an Illyrian at heart in acofas? He says it’s a compliment but then he says that because of that, there is no excuse for her behavior. Is the behavior he is referring to how she treated Feyre? What would being an Illyrian at heart have to do with that?? It’s just something I was confused on while rereading acofas.

Note: I read these books more than 1.5 years ago and only reread the first book in February so I don't have enough evidence and what I'm saying is from what I remember. If anyone has a better answer to this I would love to hear it. My opinion is based on my own understanding so you don't have to agree<3

This is a very interesting question, one that I've never paid attention to before and it's the first time I noticed, because all this time I thought Rhysand meant she has a warrior soul, and later on, she got an Illyrian mate and now is warrior/Valkyrie. And it still can be interpreted as such but like I said I forgot in what context he said it, so I read that scene again:

And it reminded me of this scene:

People obviously got mad at this and told Mor to "get off her high horse" but they never bothered to stop and think why would she say it in the first place and what impression Nesta gave, for her to reach this conclusion.

The first time Mor and Nesta talk in acowar, Mor tries to be hospitable toward her and make friends with her. That's her personality, she did the same with Feyre as well.

But Nesta, instead of not saying anything at all if she's not in the mood for friendship, decides to question Mor's choice of dress. (in my vocabulary this is called sl*t shaming. Nesta was shaming Mor for her choice of dress) Now who also shamed Mor for her choice of lifestyle? Her father, Keir, who lives in the Court of Nightmare. She lived the first few years of her life there as well and she knows how those people are.

I also want to point to this scene at how CoN treat the women:

I know a while back people were "criticizing" Rhys for dressing Feyre like a "wh*re" (???) and asking why he got mad when Keir called her that... I'm not even gonna bother to prove how wrong and far from canon is but... I, personally, don't go around, looking people up and down and shaming them for the choice of their dress. A woman can be naked and I wouldn't call her *names* but ig that's just me... continuing:

Mor sees Nesta's behavior and the first thing she probably thinks of, is how her family treated her and still does. And from that stage of the book we don't see her being nice to Nesta at all. Nesta triggered something in her and that changed her opinion of her for the rest of the series.

Now Mor's reaction to Nesta is quite similar to Rhys'.

When Feyre asks why he's ok with Elain and not Nesta, he answers "Elain is Elain." Because she doesn't trigger anything for him. She just exists in his house and doesn't bother him or more importantly, his mate. On the other hand, he has witnessed how Nesta treats Feyre and his brother. How she's verbally abusing them.

And if you noticed Rhys was just like Mor when he met Nesta, He was polite. Because he had no reason not to be. But that changed the moment Nesta showed how she act towards Feyre.

I don't have any text evidence of this because I couldn't find it but I remember how Rhys said he was never respected among Illyrians. They're afraid of him and cowards, yes but he has heard the names they call him. They couldn't physically hurt him but they never stopped verbally expressing their feeling toward him. He was bullied by them. They called him "bastard" and "half-breed".

See, Nesta behaved toward both Rhys and Mor, the same way the people they hate so much and have bad memories of, did. Nesta reminds them of the people who gave them these traumas. Rhys hates Illyrians and Mor hates CoN citizens. I just realized both Rhys and Feyre have the same childhood trauma... God, they really are the same person lmao

So when Rhys says Nesta is an Illyrian and there's no excuse for her actions, it's because he sees Illyrians as hateful and full of rage creatures and there's no reason behind why they behave the way they do. And let's be honest that's how Nesta showed herself. I know some people will say he didn't understand and YES he didn't!! It's not his job to know what's wrong with her. The opposite can be said about her sisters and mate that they should've guessed but that's debatable. It's why later on we see how Nesta is full of anger and hatred and why she's the way she is because she explained it herself, we were in her pov and got to understand her.

And him saying "it's a compliment" can means that he can see some good in them, like his brothers. His mother and sister. He just hates their culture, their mindset that he's been trying to change for centuries and I think Nesta reminded him so much of them. That's why what he said is contrary of each other.

Anyway I think this is the only explanation because I don't see any other conclusion as to why he said that. But like I said if you have other things to add or disagree I would love to hear your thoughts. Sorry if I got carried away with Mor, I wanted to show the similarity in these two situations and have an example to explain better :D

Thank you anon for trusting me to answer your question lol I tried to answer as best as I could, I hope it helped with the confusion<33

[angelynmoon]

"Sorry to interrupt the concert," Steve starts as he stands on the stage, Corroded Coffin's band frowning in confusion as a hat wearing boy walks over to Eddie and starts messing with his clothes, "but Eddie has no sense for dates and the official we hired is refusing to reschedule."

Steve pauses long enough to glance at a suddenly pale Eddie.

"So, as long as you don't mind, I'd like to get married to the dumbest rockstar on the planet, preferably tonight." Steve tells them.

It takes a moment for understanding to sink in but when it does they shreek with approval.

Within moments the crowd has shifted so there is a clear path in the middle and someone grabs Steve from the stage and crowd surfs him to the far end as Eddie's people take the stage and set up like this was a given, the official scowling as he stands next to Eddie and the boy they know as Dustin, one of Eddie's biggest fans, or, in certain circles, his favorite child.

The band shares a look before they begin to play, it's a song that has never been played in concert before, softer than any song Corroded Coffin has ever played, it sounds almost like a lullaby and the crowd feels undeniably privledged to be part of this moment as Steve walks towards the stage

It's only when he gets closer that he realizes that the stairs are off to the side and he starts to veer towards them only to be blocked.

When he reaches the stage several of Eddie's fans kneel and help steady him as he uses their bent knees as steps, as they offer their shoulders to lift him up to the man tat holds his hand out to him to lift him up onto the stage and leads them to the official that waits for them.

And in the silence Eddie's mic picks up their vows of devotion, through hell and bat bites, through comas and recovery, and promises to love one another through accusations of murder and being a cult leader.

And Eddie and Steve vow forever on a stage in the middle of a concert during Corroded Coffin's first big tour, surrounded by their family and the fans that would eventually be friends, because Eddie would never forget the men and women who handed his fiance up to him, who didn't mind that the concert they paid for was interrupted so he could get married to the man he had loved long before said man carried him out of hell after breaking his ribs to restart his heart, a heart he'd promised would only ever beat for him.

And if he smiled when he noticed how his older fans steered his Steve away from the young kids that were copying his husband's style, if he followed the wave that happened that drew his gaze directly passed all those young ones that never had a chance to where his husband danced with their youngest child along to the beat that thrummed through the venue, well, Eddie was a smart enough man to know exactly what those children wanted.

It was too bad that none of them could hold a candle to the man that had saved his life, who had held his hand through a coma and the long painful recovery that followed, who kissed his scars and still got angry at him occasionally for being a hero after he'd told him not to be, who'd throw his balled up dirty socks at his head and told him to do the goddamned laundry, who kissed him in the glow of a movie they'd seen a thousand times, who dragged him into a fancy dance when he came home from recording another song for an album, who loved listening to him play him to sleep but never asked him to.

No, the kids wouldn't understand that there were some loves that happened only once in a lifetime, and how lucky it was that Eddie got the chance to be part of it.

--

A/n: that wedding excerpt that I didn't promise you but wanted to be written.

[pavlovianfuckery]

is that rigor mortis in your pocket or are you just happy to see me

MASTERLIST

so this got a lot longer than i had planned, i don't even know. me wanting to write an anal scene, this morally corrupt petri dish of a man attaching himself to my brainstem recently and me hearing a piano cover of 'smells like teen spirit' the other day created the perfect storm ig

linky for those more ao3-y inclined: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56548138

6k-ish words of buttstuff and banter under the cut, this is porn so minors fuck all the way off

The plan had been to keep your head down and leave town as soon as you'd saved enough. It's not that you were in a hurry to leave, but in a place like this you couldn't really avoid hearing things and by the sound of it, the sooner you could get out of the city, the better.

Not that the job was terrible. Slinging drinks wasn't the most glamorous, but other than the occasional bar fight to clean up after it really wasn't that bad. Sure, it would probably be better if it paid a bit more and your co-worker was a bit less of an acquired taste, but you could deal with it. It's not like you were spoilt for choice when it came to jobs in the first place anyway, and a girl has to eat. Even undead ones. The perks of this job might be few and far between but at least you didn't have to go hungry. Not hungry for food, at any rate.

You'd promised yourself that you'd stay out of trouble, but if anything made that part difficult, it was your boss. Sometimes it felt like the smarmy bastard had been put on this earth solely to torment you, and most of the time he did absolutely nothing to disprove it. It was a not-so-secret secret that the club's proprietor had dealings that were anything but legal, and you had no interest in getting mixed up in any of it. You were going to clock in, pour drinks, clock out, and not touch that with a ten-foot pole, no matter how tight his jeans were or how much you would've liked to get inside of them.

Not that you spend an embarrassing amount of time thinking about the contents of those jeans, perish the thought. Especially not on slow afternoons like this, when all that's left to do before the evening rush is sweep the floor or make sure the bar is fully stocked. The mindless task of refilling the empty spots on the mirrored shelf leaves you with plenty of time to think. Just another paycheck or perhaps two, and then you'll have enough. You wouldn't say that you'll miss this place, but you wouldn't not say it, either. The slap of a hand on the bartop yanks you out of your thoughts.

"Fuck!" Whirling around, you have every intention of throwing whoever it is out, the bar isn't even open yet anyway, but the words die on your lips. Apparently 'speak of the devil and he shall appear' now extends to just thinking, great.

"Well, if that's on the menu I might reconsider my order," he drawls, gaze sliding over your body, lingering on your chest that's very much on display in the low-cut uniform shirt. Crossing your arms, you roll your eyes at him.

"Very funny, you should totally open a comedy club next." Realizing that crossing your arms might not have been the best move, you go back to stocking. Not that there's much left of that to do so you mostly end up fiddling with the bottles, making sure that every label is facing out, perfectly straight. "What do you want?"

"I want what every man wants, of course. Money, fame," he winks at you, "women. But for now..." he reaches across the bar and grabs a clean glass. As he does so his shirt rides up, exposing a bit of midriff that you're most definitely not looking at. "I'll settle for a drink."

The liquid sloshes in the glass as you pour, and when he knocks it back it's hard not to stare at his pale throat. With a pleased noise, he places the glass back on the bar, a hint of a smile on his thin lips. "What are you waiting for?" He taps the edge of the glass impatiently, looking up at you through lowered lashes, "Fill me up, buttercup."

"So..." You pour another and slide the glass back towards him. The second drink lasts a bit longer than the first, and you fiddle with the cap of the bottle as you watch him sip it. "Bad day?"

"Bad week." Crime lord or no, he looks absolutely pitiful as he turns the glass in slow circles in front of him, leaving a trail of condensation on the bar top. The fact that it's only Wednesday doesn't really help the whole 'woe-is-me' vibe either.

"Tell me about it. Or on second thought, don't." You wiggle the bottle at him, eyeing the nearly empty glass. "Another?"

"Are you planning on taking advantage of me?" He drains the last of it and leans back on the barstool with his hands on his thighs, flashing you a smile. "Didn't have you pegged as the type."

"You wish." You go to refill the glass, careful not to spill. It would be easier if you could blame his behaviour on being drunk, but being undead makes that highly unlikely. It would take more than this to even get him tipsy.

"And what if I do?"

"Tempting as that may be, and I'm not saying it is, I'm afraid I have to turn it down." Trying to keep a straight face, you pour him another drink. "I don't shit where I eat."

"Charming," he chuckles, "I bet you've got all the boys chasing you with a mouth like that. Besides, a little birdie told me you weren't planning on sticking around."

"Yeah, look, it's nothing personal, it's just..." You shrug, gesturing vaguely. "This town, the whole situation, it's a disaster waiting to happen. I'm not planning to hang around waiting for the pitchforks and torches crowd."

"Pity." He leans in close, lowering his voice. "Before I have Don E start looking for a replacement, how about a going away party?"

"I don't know," you shift, not sure where he's going with this, "that's not really my kind of thing."

"You sure? It would be a very exclusive affair, of course," the tip of his tongue darts out and wets his lips, lurid pink against his pale skin, "very...private."

Your resolve crumbles embarrassingly quickly. What does it matter anyway, if you're quitting? He wouldn't be your boss anymore, and it's not like you'd be dating the man. It'd probably be a good time in the short term, but he's hardly boyfriend material.

"Exclusive, huh?" You drag a finger through the moisture trail on the bar, not quite meeting his eyes. "Is there a dress code, or...?"

"Surprise me."

⁂

The ride over is more anxious than you were expecting, and you lose count of how many times you check your makeup on the way. It's a fairly short drive to one of the more upscale neighbourhoods, and your first thought as you step out of the cab is that the house is ugly. It's one of those huge, soul-less cubes with way too many windows. It looks like it belongs on the cover of a magazine for people with more money than taste, which is honestly pretty much what you expected. Despite the balmy evening air, it makes you feel woefully under-dressed, sticking out like a sore thumb in your simple sundress.

Taking a deep breath and straightening your shoulders, you hesitate in front of the door. For all you know, he could be waiting with an axe at the ready, or something equally disturbing. In the end, libido triumphs over common sense and you ring the doorbell. As the seconds tick by with the door remaining stubbornly closed, you start to feel a bit stupid. After all, you'd known he was a jerk at the best of times, and this really was a dumb idea, right from the start. Potentially risking your life for a booty call? Maybe you should call the cab back, it might not be too late-

"And here I thought you were a zombie, not a vampire."

He looks good, which shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Even a casual observer could easily pick up on the fact that if nothing else, Blaine DeBeers is a vain creature. The shirt looks expensive, despite the nonchalant way he's left the top few buttons undone and the sleeves carelessly rucked up to his elbows, and the deep plum colour stands out like a bruise against his pale skin. The usual dark denim accentuates the lean lines of his legs, and his hair all but screams 'I just spent 20 minutes in front of a mirror to make it look like I don't care'. Everything from the shine of his shoes to his belt to the bracelets he's wearing looks entirely calculated to draw you in.

"I'm sorry, what?" You can feel the ghost of a blush on your cheeks, though it has to be more in your head than anything.

"You've been hovering by the door for," he checks his watch, brows furrowed, "three whole minutes, do I need to formally invite you in?" At your confused look, he smirks, pointing out the obvious, bracelet glinting under the porchlight. "Security cameras."

Right. Of course, your floundering has to be caught on tape, just fantastic.

"Maybe I was having second thoughts?" You cross your arms, on purpose this time around. Let him see what he could be missing. "My time could probably be better spent somewhere else, you know."

"My most sincere apologies, madam," he looks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth as he gives a mocking little bow, "Now, would you do me the honour of gracing my humble abode with your radiant presence?"

"You're terrible, you know that?" You only barely suppress the urge to swat at him as you step over the threshold. Of course, you had seen him turn on the charm before, usually at whatever unsuspecting woman he'd deemed the conquest of the night. Having it directed at yourself, however, was different. And worst of all, it was working.

"You like it, though." He shoots you a cocksure smile. Annoyingly, he's not wrong.

"So, what does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?" You keep your tone airy, pretending you didn't hear what he just said."I'm absolutely parched."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" He walks past you almost close enough to touch, and it's more or less a textbook illustration of the expression 'hate it when he leaves but loves to watch him go'. He even smells good, the faintest hint of a no doubt expensive cologne lingering in his wake. It's not like the entire song and dance is strictly necessary, but you appreciate the effort all the same.

It's nice to have someone else pour the drinks for a change, and it lets you get a quick look around the place. The inside isn't much of an improvement over the outside. Every single piece of furniture looks like it probably cost more than you make in a year but it's all style, no substance. Except one thing. "Why do you have a piano in here?"

"For the regular reasons?" He nudges your elbow lightly with his, offering you a glass of something amber-coloured. "Why?"

As you accept the glass his fingers brush against yours, making your skin tingle. For a second you consider letting him take you to bed right now, but it would be a shame for the night to end so soon, and you can't deny being at least a little interested.

"Don't tell me you actually play?" You sip the drink, not sure what kind of answer you're expecting.

"Is that really so strange?" He frowns, somehow managing to even make that look attractive.

"Not strange, more like...unexpected." You turn the glass in your hands, "Maybe I 'didn't have you pegged as the type.'"

"What can I say, I'm a man of culture."

"Really? Do you mean like, all the time or only when you've eaten one?" Maybe you should ease up on the teasing, but with the way he's playing along it's hard to stop. The man may be a walking disaster and an all-around bad idea, but you can't remember the last time you had this much fun flirting with someone. With no more rules in the way, he's more entertaining than you thought he'd be.

"You wound me," he puts a hand on his chest in a pantomime of hurt, "you really do."

"Guess I'll have to make it up to you then." You take another drink, enjoying the way his eyes darken at the suggestion.

"Will you, now?" He smiles, looking entirely too pleased with himself. In the dim light, his teeth are very white and you can't help imagining running your tongue over them to see if they're as sharp as they look. Rather than give in to the impulse you clear your throat.

"I'll think about it." You nod at the piano, "Not sure I buy it though, it's hard to imagine you playing any instrument, honestly. Are you sure it's not just decorative?"

"Are you calling me untrustworthy?"

"You're hardly a paragon of virtue, are you." You bat your eyelashes at him innocently. "Why don't you play something, then?"

"Alright." The way he slides onto the bench is completely natural, and when he pats the seat next to him you don't protest. It's not exactly roomy, ending up with your leg pressing against his. "Any requests?"

"Play Wonderwall." You were going for deadpan, but seeing the open disgust on his face, you can't hold back a giggle. "I'm sorry, couldn't resist. Play whatever you like."

"I could do that."

So it turns out, he wasn't lying. The way his fingers move across the keys is mesmerizing, and you can't help wondering what they'd feel like inside you. You're so preoccupied with watching him that it takes you almost a full minute to recognize the song.

"Hold on, is that...?"

"What can I say, I'm a Nirvana fan." He shrugs, the smile on his face almost boyish. It's probably the most genuine you've seen him, and it makes your stomach drop. If you're not careful, you might be in real trouble here.

"Mr.DeBeers, you're full of surprises." You trail your fingers over his forearm, enjoying the way the soft dusting of hair tickles your fingertips. "Got anything else you'd like to share?"

"Oh, I've got a few more secrets up my sleeve," he leans just a fraction closer, running the back of his hand across your knee, adding as an afterthought, "I can sing too, you know."

"You sure know how to impress a girl." You feel almost hypnotized, your world rapidly shrinking until all that seems to exist is his fingers drawing lazy circles on your thigh, right below the hem of your dress. This close, his eyes are very blue."Are you going to sing for me, then?"

"Actually," he murmurs, "I'd rather get you to sing for me." It's definitely an eye-roll-worthy line, but then his mouth is on yours and you decide that you can let it slide.

Despite knowing that he definitely gets around, it somehow still comes as a surprise that he's a good kisser. You'd been expecting something rushed or rough, but he kisses like he's got all the time in the world. His lips are soft pressed to yours and when you flick your tongue against them he opens up so easily, sighing into your mouth. If he tastes of anything it's alcohol and possibly bad decisions, but as he slides a hand up the back of your neck and buries his fingers in your hair, it hardly seems to matter anymore.

Not being entirely alive doesn't mean being all the way dead, and some parts keep ticking on their own out of habit if nothing else, you know this. But there is still something almost sweet about how when he pulls back, he's slightly out of breath he doesn't actually need. Moving in for another kiss he sneaks his other hand under your dress, inching slowly upwards. When he gets far enough to notice the lack of underwear he makes a pleased noise and you can feel him grin against your lips.

"What? You weren't very clear on the dress code, so I decided to wing it." You hook a finger in the top of his shirt and pull it, making the top button nearly pop off. "That a problem?"

"Believe it or not, " he chuckles, "I am more than fine with it."

It's a miracle that you make it to his bed at all, that all you lose on the way is your shoes is even more so. The only impression of his bedroom that you have time to get is that it's as luxurious and impersonal as the rest of the house, and then you're pushed down into sheets with a thread count so high you're pretty sure you can't even afford to think about them too closely. Besides, you're more interested in the man crawling over you and settling in between your legs, covering your body with his.

The way he grinds against you is nowhere near enough to bring any sort of relief, even as you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer. It takes a bit of effort to yank his shirt free enough to get your hands under it, but as you drag your nails down his back you're rewarded with a low moan. As he gets up on his knees and starts working the buttons of his shirt loose, aside from the obvious bulge, there's also a pretty sizable wet spot at the front of his jeans. Some of it is from you, but far from all of it. This isn't the first time you're getting intimate with another member of the undead but he's by far the most responsive of the lot, and it makes you wonder what he must've been like when he was alive. When he notices you looking, he quirks an eyebrow.

"Problem?"

"Don't mind me," you laugh, trailing the straining zipper with a finger, "just enjoying the view."

When he shrugs the shirt off it's discarded on the floor without any fanfare, exposing the pale expanse of his chest. He looks softer like this, and for a moment it's nearly enough to make you forget that he almost certainly kills people. You half expect his hands to go straight to his fly, but instead, he grabs your ankle and brings it to his lips, making you fall back onto the bed, leaving your leg hooked over his shoulder as he kisses his way down. As he disappears from view under the hem of your dress you can feel him rub his face against the inside of your thigh, the light scratch of stubble heating the sensitive skin.

There is barely a second between his breath wafting over you and his tongue dipping between your folds, making your toes curl. He takes his time methodically tasting and feeling every part of you, more focused on devouring you than getting you off. Sliding his hands under you he cups your ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he holds you in place. And then he goes still, his voice muffled against your skin. It's a shame you can't see his face.

"What was that?" You ask, trying to keep your tone innocent, perhaps not entirely successful. He pushes your dress out of the way, leaving it bunched around your waist. His hair is a mess and his mouth and chin shine with your juices, but he doesn't seem to notice or care.

"I said," he pinches the base of the buttplug between his fingers and gives it a little tug, "you've been holding out on me."

"I was wondering when you'd notice that." The words come out more breathless than intended because the way he's looking at you is absolutely filthy. It also doesn't help that he keeps wiggling the damn thing when you try to speak. "You did say to surprise you. How am I doing so far?"

"Consider me surprised." He dips back down and flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue a few times, making you shiver before wrapping his lips softly around it, giving it a few slow sucks. It's all tease and no relief, but when your hand settles on the back of his neck all it gets you is the warning scrape of teeth, making you arch off the bed with a yelp.

"None of that," he admonishes, fingers digging into your hip.

"You're evil." It comes out whinier than intended, and all it does is make him laugh.

"That so? You know..." he cocks his head as he slides two fingers into you, angling them just so, "I bet I can have you singing a different tune if you give me a minute." It's infuriating, the way he has you white-knuckling the sheets with just a few small movements like you're just another instrument for him to play. And he doesn't even have the decency to keep going, instead leaving you hanging again.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a bit of a bastard?" You grit out, not really thinking.

"Oh, daily," he gives a theatrical little shrug, smile almost unbearably smug," twice on Sundays. I take it delayed gratification isn't your thing, then?"

"Not right now, it isn't," you grit out, though there isn't much heat behind the words.

"Noted. Shame, and here I thought I had all night. So..." he cranes his neck to get a better look and runs a finger around the plug, teasing your rim, "this what you want, then?"

"Are you going to make me beg for it?" The question is rewarded with a pinch to the back of your thigh, nearly hard enough to bruise.

"Keep up the attitude and I might." It's hard to tell if that's supposed to be a threat or a promise, but at least he's starting to undo his fly. Or he was, because he stops midway through, jerking his chin at the mess around your waist. "By the way, do you like that dress?"

"I guess I do, yeah, why?"

"Then I suggest you take it off." He winks at you, then goes back to work.

At least he gave you fair warning, but you still roll your eyes at him as you pull it over your head, leaving you completely bare. Yes, it might have been a questionable choice to show up at his place wearing basically nothing, but you figured that you were both on the same page. And in fairness, it's not like you'd been wrong. As he's pulling his jeans down his legs, you can't quite hold back a giggle.

"So, should I be adding magician to the considerable list of your talents, or...?" It slips out before you have time to think, but in return all you get is confusion. How is he cute? "I'm just saying, I wasn't sure if those jeans were painted on or not, and it turns out you have somehow managed to fit an entire circus tent into them. It's honestly pretty impressive, I could have sworn trousers weren't usually bigger on the inside." You blink up at him, eyes wide, "Are you secretly a timelord? I promise I won't tell."

"See, attitude." He shakes his head, not quite hiding his smile, "You're going to be paying for that in a bit, you know."

"Oh no, put me down as terrified and horny," you grin, watching him struggle with pulling his jeans the rest of the way off. The boxers are atrocious, their only redeeming quality is the way the damp fabric clings to the contours of his cock. "If you wanted less attitude, maybe you shouldn't have teased me like-"

And then he's a solid weight pushing you down, face buried between your breasts. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and drags his teeth across it, completely derailing your train of thought. He might be a bit of a jerk but he's a determined one, seemingly hell-bent on finding and pushing every single one of your buttons. Not that you mind, because you can't remember the last time you had someone quite this focused on doing that. It's kind of flattering, actually.

When he kisses you again, it turns out that his choice of underwear does have one good thing going for them; the loose waistband is an open invitation to slide your hands under it and squeeze his ass. It's impossible to resist just one last jab at them though, because they really are ridiculous.

"I've just got to ask," you whisper against his lips, "were the pink ones with hearts in the wash?"

Maybe that was a bit too far because his hand feels like a vice at the back of your neck as he rolls you both over and manhandles you onto his lap. If the way his erection pokes your side is any indication, it's probably fine though. Probably.

"See, I consider myself a patient man," he says, sliding his palm across your backside. Despite knowing that it's coming, the impact takes you by surprise because it's not exactly a love-tap. "But I think that's enough of that, don't you?" He slams his hand down again, sending pins and needles into your skin.

"Shit, fuck!" It's almost enough to make your eyes tear up because it really stings.

"I get it, clearly a sensitive topic, I'm sorry." For a moment you think he might let you go, but no such luck.

"Not so fast," he tightens his grip on your neck, "I think about...ten more? If you apologize and promise to behave, I'll make it worth your while."

So he's not mad, just being a bit of a dick. That, you can work with.

"Yeah, sure, I promise. Scouts honour!"

The next time he hits you, it's not quite as hard, but then you feel him hesitate.

"I did mention that I expect you to count, right?" You don't have to be able to see his face to be able to tell that he's smirking at you.

"Oh, you absolute-" The slap comes fast, making your skin burn. "Fuck, fine, one!"

It's not as bad as it could have been. He actually eases up just a tad and even spreads the strikes out, except for the last few. Those, he aims right at the plug until you're squirming for a different reason altogether.

"Ten..." you slump against him, not sure what he'll do next.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" When he slides his palm over your sore buttocks, it's almost gentle. "Now, where were we?" He hums as he hooks his fingers around the base of the plug and slowly pulls it out, leaving you empty. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see it sailing over the edge of the bed, probably to never be seen again. "Right, I think I remember now..." He slides his fingers between your folds, getting his fingers slick before sinking two of them into your ass, making a whine stick high in your throat.

"Please..." It's quiet, but apparently not quiet enough, because you can feel him throb against you.

"Now that's what I like to hear," he sounds very pleased with himself as he pulls his fingers out, leaving you clenching around nothing," nice and polite."

When he lets you go you roll almost bonelessly into the soft sheets. As fun as that was, your neck is stiff and you're pretty sure there's going to be a bruise to remember this by. On the upside, he pulls his boxers off and throws them somewhere on the floor, where you thankfully can't see them.

It might just be the contrast of them being gone that's doing him favours, but his cock is nicer than you thought it'd be. It wouldn't be a stretch to call it pretty, even. It's as pale as the rest of him, the head a soft blush colour, and while not porn star huge it's nothing to sneeze at, size-wise. Not that you get much time to ogle it before he crawls up your body, capturing your lips with his in a demanding kiss. While it's not rushed per se, there is an undercurrent of urgency to it that makes you ache.

"Go on, "he's all but straddling your leg as he rubs against you, "Touch me."

When you hesitate, he grabs your wrist with an impatient noise and guides your hand down, wrapping your fingers around his length. It feels nice and heavy in your hand, the smooth skin sliding against your palm as you give him a few slow, gentle strokes. As you swipe your thumb over the head his eyes flutter shut, and when you do it again he lets out a low moan, giving you a little nod of encouragement.

"Yeah, like that..."

It feels oddly intimate to be touching him like this and drawing those noises from him, and more than everything else it makes it difficult not to wish that the circumstances were different. You try not to reflect on that too hard.

"Top drawer, right-hand side," he murmurs, voice going a little bit rough at the edges. At your confused look, he clarifies, "Lube. Unless you'd prefer to put that mouth to better use? Dealers choice."

There is a gun in the nightstand, which isn't exactly a curveball, but you elect to ignore it. It's none of your business, and right now you have more pressing things to think about. It appears that the god of small mercies is alive and well in this house tonight, because the bottle is at least easy to find, and you hoist it triumphantly in the air.

"Found it." Pouring a dollop into the palm of your hand you start tackling the task of applying it, making sure to be generous. Perhaps to him especially, enjoying the way his brow furrows as you pay a bit more attention to the tip of his cock than is entirely necessary. By the end of it, the anticipation is making you nearly crawl out of your skin.

"Come here," When he pulls you to him and positions you to his liking, it drives home what you'd already suspected. Not that it wasn't nice not having to do all the work, but the man clearly has a controlling streak and a sizeable one at that. It made you wonder if he ever handed the reins over to someone else, what that would even be like? Not that you'd be likely to ever find out, but it was an interesting thought to file away for later, for entertainment purposes if nothing else. Grabbing your hip he rocks against your ass, slippery cock sliding between your cheeks.

"Are you going to ask for it nicely?" he whispers in your ear as he adjusts himself, lightly prodding at your entrance, just barely pushing in and pulling out over and over again, making every nerve-ending tingle. Cupping your breast, he pinches your nipple when he doesn't get an instant response. "It's not mandatory, but I have all night, so..."

"Please?" You push back, trying to draw him inside, but to no avail. "Pretty please?" Apparently, that's not what he's looking for either, because he still doesn't move. He's teasing you again, the absolute prat, and he's clearly getting off on frustrating you because you can feel him smile as he buries his face against your neck.

"Getting warmer..."

And then it's eye-rollingly obvious, but you're way past caring so you humour him, smug bastard that he is.

"Please, Blaine."

"Attagirl." Then he starts pushing into you at a nearly glacial pace. Maybe he did have a point about delayed gratification after all, because it's too much and too little all at once until all you can do is tremble, lost in sensation. It doesn't last for very long before he rests his chin on your shoulder with a huff breathy laughter.

"I can't give you what you're after if you keep wriggling like that." He runs his hand down your side, grabbing your hip,"You'll be still for me, won't you?" Every fraction of an inch that he moves makes you whimper, and his lips tickle the shell of your ear as he whispers, "Shhh, there's a good girl, shhh..."

And then he's buried in you up to the hilt, body pressed to yours from one end to the other. Rolling his hips he groans, nuzzling your neck. "You feel so good, you have no idea..."

He must've been telling the truth about having all night because there is nothing rushed about the way he fucks you. Every slow thrust brings you closer to the edge, but not close enough to tip you over it. The only thing that seems to matter right now is how he feels inside you, and the release that remains just out of reach. Every noise he makes shoots straight to your core until you're aching, almost to the point of pain.

You're not sure if he even notices how he's getting to you, because he seems preoccupied with touching and tasting you, everywhere except where you need it the most. The entire situation feels deeply unfair, you'd been expecting a quick tumble to get it out of your system and move on with your life, but instead he's got you ready to tear into the pillow with your teeth out of pure frustration in the best way possible. If you're not careful, this could very well turn into an addiction. When he takes pity on you and slides his hand between your legs, it's almost too intense.

"Is this all for me?" He coos, dragging a finger through your soaked folds.

"Yeah," You're past caring how desperate it makes you sound. If he wants his ego stroked, he can have it. "All for you, fuck, please..."

"You poor thing," he pants as he circles your clit with the tip of his finger, barely brushing against it, "you really need to come, don't you?"

All you can manage is a frantic nod, trapped between his hand and his cock. At this rate he's going to drive you insane because he's moving so slowly. Every touch and thrust makes the pressure in your core rise until it feels like you might burst and shatter into a million tiny pieces, leaving you helpless to do anything but drool and moan into the sheets. There's a fleeting thought that if he winds you up any further, your head might pop off like the cork on a bottle of vigorously shaken champagne.

"You must be so fucking close," he moans, and he can't be far behind, because you can feel him straining inside of you as he hooks his leg over yours, trapping you against him, "Go on, let me feel you, come on..."

You couldn't fight it even if you wanted to, the tension twisting your insides finally snapping as he pounds into you. His grip on you is the only thing that keeps you from folding like a pocket knife as your insides convulse around him, the pleasure almost choking you. He draws it out, fucking you through it until you're twitching from overstimulation, so sensitive that you can feel him pulse inside of you as he comes with a strangled noise.

His heaving chest sticks to your back as he slumps against you, limbs tangled with yours in a sticky mess. As his softening cock slips from you, the ability to think coherently returns to you somewhat, and you roll away from him. It was a good time but you're well aware that you're not special, nothing about this is, so you weren't exactly expecting him to cuddle. Or spend the night, for that matter. Besides, your shoulder is killing you, making an unpleasant cracking noise as you stretch out on the bed beside him.

"That was..." You bite your lip, searching for words. What are you even supposed to say? 'Thanks for the mindblowing orgasm boss, I'll see you at work?' Probably not, so you settle for, "I think I needed that."

"Yeah?" He looks so good like this, all fucked out and sated, and for once he looks genuinely relaxed. He props himself up on his elbows as he watches you look for your dress, not offering to help but clearly enjoying the view. "We good?"

"Peachy." With the way he's unselfconsciously stretched out right in front of you, it's hard not to ogle him. "So I guess I'll, um, see you at work...?"

That did not come out the way you wanted it to, so you pull the dress over your head so he can't see you wince. Setting yourself to rights doesn't take long, but you can feel him looking at you the entire time. Oh, you are definitely in trouble.

"Sure." There's not even a hint of awkwardness about him though, but you figure he's got this kind of thing down pat by now. As you turn to go and hopefully find your shoes somewhere along the way, he calls out after you, "By the way, should I consider this your two weeks, or...?"

[thelesbianpoirot]

if you ever do feel like mocking saltburn please do. god that movie was ridiculous. just disjointed nonsense and shock factor (although, for me, the most 'shocking' scene was actually the end when he's about to unplug the ventilator or whatever, just because of the suspense and horror i felt knowing he's some deviant freak who's probably not above abusing an unconscious elderly woman.)

I tried to hold back on mocking Saltburn because the director is a woman, I hated the Barbie and only made a single post about it, because I didn't want to obliterate the film of a woman just trying to say some feminism 101 talking points while still making a giant toy advertisement. Especially a woman I know can make good movies, she made ladybird and I did enjoy that.

But when I found out Saltburn was directed by the woman who wrote, co-produced and directed promising young woman, I realize I had to say something. Emerald really isn't a survivor of assault, she can't fucking be, if she thinks promising young woman isn't a fucking slap in the face. I have never hated a protagonist and plot more. The message of her movies are any lacking substance. They have down right conservative messaging masquerading as radical, and are so misguided. Sheltered rich kid movies. She can't write for shit and people are blowing smoke up her ass. There are many male nepobaby hacks and frauds in hollywood, Emerald fennel is a rare female version. Saltburn is no different from promising young woman. I will be quick because I am about to go to sleep. She wrote that one too. She can't write. She could be a good produce and director, but not as a writer. Her ideas are uninspired, childish and not realistic. And she isn't inventive enough to make viewers suspend their disbelief. She made no effort to hide that the main character was sinister. I don't blame Barry, he's a good actor, he can do innocent and evil, but the movie showed it's hands so fucking early. I knew within the first 15 minutes where this movie was going and the only thing that shocked me was the blatant-ness of it all. This feels like the plotline of a season of dynasty, when I know she wanted it to feel like succession.

Oliver Quick is character that should be dismantling the wealth elite. He isn't poor, he's upper middle fucking class. I could not take any solace in a working class character seizing the wealth of the rich. His family is fucking loaded. Do you see his house? His happy loving parents. He is not a hero, or even anti-hero, he's no better any of the rich people he killed or had a hand in killing. If that is the point, what is the point. Everyone is an entitled rich evil bastard in succession, but they are people, they don't see themselves like that and we the audience no matter how aware we are, can fall victim to caring about them. At no one in this movie do I care about Oliver Quick or any of the other characters. They weren't people, just quirks and archetypes.

Is she saying poor (middle class really) people are entitled psychopaths social climbers? We hate and love the rich and famous because we want to fuck them and be them? Is that the message? I think she decided to make it a comedy after she saw the completely boilerplate boring runt of a film she made, so she added wacky scenes to get comedy from it, I did not laugh, not even in a dark things are funny sense. It just pissed me off more and more. I paid to see this on my day off, took the bus into the city and everything, emerald give me my day off back!

Does the women's wealth make their treatment okay? The sexual manipulation of the younger sister, and the abuse of an unconscious elderly disabled mother?

Young women are horny for Jacob Elodi, who isn't even a good actor, he's just tall, like I can't see a reason why this man is famous another than he's tall, and straight girls need to feel small and little to feel sexy idk. The whole film is dedicated to how enigmatic Jacob elodi's character is, and how someone wanting to be him or be with him could drive them to murder. Yet he is a PLANK. A BRICK WALL. THERE IS NOTHING THERE. He will never be Jude Law/dicky greenleaf (i.e charismatic asshole).

Yes, putting nonsensical meaningless shocking scenes in your movie doesn't make it good. Having a jump scare in your horror movie doesn't make it scary, you just surprised people, got a natural human response from them. I cringed, scrounged up my face, rolled my eyes and complain about the movie, that doesn't make it thought provoking. Just irritating.

She wanted this to be her THE MENU (Latest hollywood class struggle critique) mixed with Talented Mister Ripley (sympathetic but psychopathic protagonist tries to blend in with the cold shallow rich people).

But what she did was connect a series of aesthetic shots (jacob Elodi montage that belongs in a music video at best), weird sexual shit social media will cling to because it is weird and sexual, and location shots/scenes that looked like meaningful things should be happening but nothing is there. Film twitter tiktok can't stop talking about this dumb movie, and she got what she wanted. I can't wait till she makes a good movie for once, instead of relying on backlash, outrage to fuel her film career.

[mayhemwrites]

to hold or to break

(or, 5 times Zoya almost said "I love you" and 1 time she did)

5 + 1 zoyalai fic for the @grishaversebigbang mini-bang event!!

read on ao3 here

materialki: @jmie-draws, who created this amazing art piece, and @soupdreamer, who created this amazing art piece!!!

Summary: Zoya is usually excellent at speaking her mind. Except, apparently, when it comes to telling Nikolai she loves him.

full fic under the cut!! angst/pining with a cute fluffy ending, 1966 words

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

Zoya is not going to think about how much she hates this. Because if she thinks about it, then she won't let it happen. She'll call the whole plan off, and that would be a disaster. She knows it would be a disaster. Nikolai has to get married, for the good of Ravka. He needs to make a strong alliance, especially with Fjerda threatening war. Especially with the demon as an ever present threat to his stability.

Knowing all of that doesn't stop her from hating it, though, so she writes up a list of all the people he should consider marrying, and brings it to him in his office. The quicker she gets this done, the less she has to think about it.

He's quick to veto half the names on her list (not because she deliberately picked outlandish suggestions, of course), but she stays firm on the others. However much she wants to forget about the list.

"You just don't want to go along with this," she tells him, and he shrugs in acknowledgement.

"Of course I don't."

So don't, then.

But he would never want her instead, even if he didn't need to marry for the good of Ravka. So she says nothing except: "You have to."

He shrugs again. "I'm aware. That doesn't mean I have to like it."

She nods. Both of them know the sacrifices that need to be made for a country. For Ravka.

He is sacrificing his freedom to marry the person of his choosing. In return, in that moment, she gives up her childish dream of him returning her secret love. Not that she's in love with him. There isn't any point. Not when he's agreed to court the remaining few women on her list.

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

She realizes that her plan to ignore her growing feelings for him has failed about a week into their journey across Ravka.

As she watches him charm some duke of some country town - she's stopped keeping track, at this point, because really, who can be bothered to learn the names of dozens of idiot men who hold a title simply because of their birth - and wishes, just for a second, that he would turn a fraction of that charm, just an inch of his dazzling grin, on her.

She pushes that down quickly enough, but it's the next morning that she stops being able to.

It's nothing special. They're sitting together, in a room of the duke's mansion (yes, a mansion, when the people living in this town have just had their third failed harvest in a row and are struggling to feed themselves). They're doing paperwork together, just as they always do. Nothing special.

So why does the way he catches her eye across a particularly tedious piece of legislation make it impossible for her to ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach?

Honestly. Fluttering. She might as well be a teenager again, infatuated with the first man who paid her the slightest bit of attention.

But it's impossible to deny that she feels something for Nikolai, as futile as it is.

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

The night before Nikolai is due to attempt the obisbaya.

She almost says it, then.

She doesn't, though. Because if he survives, then he will still need to marry for the good of Ravka. And if he doesn't survive…

She's not thinking about what happens if he doesn't survive the ritual. There's a lot she's not thinking about. The list keeps building up, and she keeps pushing all her inconvenient, unwanted thoughts down. It never works for long, but she can hope.

Besides, in 24 hours she won't have to worry about whether Nikolai will survive the obisbaya. Either he will have survived, or he won't have. Whatever the outcome, there's nothing Zoya can do about it, so there's no point worrying.

That doesn't mean she doesn't want to say the words she's been pushing down for so long, though. As Elizaveta seals her in amber, she desperately wants to tell him that she has complete faith in him. Not just because she is a general and he is her king, but because she knows him. (Possibly better than anybody else does.) Because she knows that if anybody could survive a deadly ritual and not only that, but come out of it with his clothes uncreased and that damned crooked grin on his face - well, if anybody could manage that, it's Nikolai.

She doesn't say anything, in the end. She lets herself be sealed in amber for the final time, and watches as Nikolai begins the ritual.

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

Zoya looks out of the window of the carriage, trying to ignore the man sitting beside her. Why did she agree to this, again? She wishes Alina were less self-sacrificing. Then she wouldn't have to transport the Darkling across the country.

Her second cross-country trip in as many months. Except this time she's on her own. (Well, she has the Soldat Sol, but they hardly count as company.) No Tamar to spar with at rest stops, no Tolya to share comfortable silences with. No Nikolai.

No Nikolai this time, because he's at Genya and David's wedding. She should be there too, smiling up at her two closest friends from the front row of seats. But Ravka comes first. It always does. It has to.

So here she is, travelling across the country with the one person she hates more than anybody else, trying not to think about the boy she left behind in Os Alta.

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

Zoya is a fool. She knows this. Why had she said nothing?

(Because of Ravka. Because he wouldn't have said what he had said, if he'd known how miserably fucked-up she is. Because he undoubtedly regrets it now, so it's too late.)

The moment Nikolai leaves, she wants to curl up into a ball on the floor of the airship and sob like a heartbroken teenage girl. But she hasn't been one of those for six years now, and she doesn't intend to go back to the person she had been.

She runs through the list of reasons in her mind why he shouldn't choose her. He needs to marry for the good of Ravka. He deserves somebody who can love him wholly, not Zoya, scarred and afraid, who can barely admit that she does love him.

Saints, she loves him.

More than she has ever loved anybody, she loves him. More than she thought herself capable of loving anybody. She loves him in a way that makes her want to tear down the walls surrounding her heart and give it to him, to hold or to break. Like she had let him into her garden, she wants to let him into her heart, let him see all of her - the good, the bad, the horrifying, even the part of her that has not quite hardened into a soldier yet. (The part of her that is nine years old at the altar, thirteen years old and bleeding in the snow, nineteen years old frantically searching Novokribrisk for Liliyana, twenty-three years old standing at David's grave.)

And that is exactly why he can never know that he has even the slightest effect on her, because she is a general and he is her king, and she cannot afford to be acting like a lovesick teenager when Ravka is on the brink of war.

She certainly can't tell him that she loves him. Especially not now that she knows he loves her. She knows him well enough to guess that if he knew the truth, he would gladly damn Ravka for a singular promise of her love. So one of them has to be responsible about this.

She will let her heart shatter silently a hundred times over before she lets even a single crack appear in Ravka for her sake.

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

Zoya is fairly certain that the last twenty-four hours have been a dream. Something she hallucinated.

Since the early hours of the morning, she has: defeated the Fjerdan navy, rescued and reconciled with Nina Zenik, seen the Apparat almost torn to pieces by corpses, turned into a dragon, been hailed as a Saint by Ravkans and Fjerdans alike, seen Nikolai Lantsov give up his throne, become Queen herself, and perhaps most unbelievably, she has confessed her love to him and the world has not ended yet.

Quite the opposite, in fact. If she were one for grand romantic declarations, she might say that it feels as if her world is only just beginning.

It is six o'clock in the morning, and the sun is not even close to rising. Ordinarily, she would already be up at this hour. (So would Nikolai, not that she pays close attention to his daily routine - except no, now she can freely admit to doing so. He would probably find it endearing.)

But she is not up. She is not washed and dressed, or getting in some early-morning training before breakfast. She is not taking this excellent opportunity to work on the stacks of paperwork that are undoubtedly waiting for her.

Instead, she is still lying in bed, debating whether or not to wake Nikolai up. On one hand, they have things to be doing and he probably should be awake by now. On the other hand, she could stay here and watch his face, at peace for once, for ever.

This is why she hadn't wanted to confess her love for him - because her own greed to have as many moments of peace and domesticity with him would outweigh her sense of duty. Now that it's actually happening, though, she finds she doesn't mind in the slightest.

He takes the decision out of her hands, though, by waking up himself. The moment his eyes open, they land on her face and he breaks into a smile.

"I thought I might have dreamed you," he admits, and she has to laugh.

"Dreamt up my entire existence? Don't be ridiculous."

"You know what I meant," he says, his eyes never once leaving hers. (And she is not looking into his eyes, because that really would prevent any sort of productivity this morning.)

"I do, yes. You're fun to tease, though," she tells him just to see his cheeks turn faintly pink.

"So yesterday really happened?"

"Of course it did," she says. "Unless we both had the same very vivid dream, you did give me your throne and I did turn into a dragon."

"Good," he says, still smiling. "Because I nearly died yesterday. Three times, in fact. And yet it was still the best day of my life."

Her heart races. "You're being sentimental, Nikolai."

"Am I not allowed to be?"

"No, I'll allow it. If you must be."

"Indeed I must. And I have about three years' worth of sentimentality to get out, so prepare yourself."

She pretends to groan, but secretly, once again, she finds she doesn't mind at all.

"By all means continue to flatter me," she says. "In fact, if you must know, I welcome your sentimentality. However impractical it may be."

"I suspected as much," he says, now grinning that damned crooked smile of his. "Then may I continue?"

"You may," she says, heart beating even faster in anticipation of what he might say next.

"In which case: Zoya, are you aware that I am completely head-over-heels in love with you?"

She can't help smiling softly. "Yes, I was aware."

He pauses, raising an eyebrow at her. She knows what he wants to hear. Is this the moment she finally says it?

Yes, it must be. And now that the moment has arrived, the words feel less like an insurmountable obstacle, and more like the words she has been searching for her whole life.

"I love you too, Nikolai."

[anime-kia]

You Can Do What?! (Part 2)

Happy New Year! I hope your year is looking great so far!

I finally added pictures! Also, if your hair isn't medium/long just imagine you added hair to achieve the style (y'all know how versatile our hair is). 

^ Uh... Tumblr does not like to transfer pictures (I used to write on Wattpad) so just use your imagination lmao. (2023 me writing this)

No warnings.

Relationship: Helpful Erik x Reader

"Hey, it's Tasha. I'm on vacation right now. Appointments will resume next month, please don't blow my phone up with time requests. I'll get back to y'all when I'm home. Bye!"

"Nah, sorry boo. I'm full."

"We don't do walk-ins."

"This number is no longer in service, please hang up and try ag-"

You sigh for the tenth time today, tossing your phone to the left on the sofa. Every single one of your stylists were either fully booked or gone away on vacation. Tasha was your go-to, but she was away and you became stressed when her voicemail picked up. 

Erik peered his head out from the kitchen, "You good?" The smell of food wafted into your nose, promising you a delicious dinner later on.

"No, everyones either gone or full." You fold your arms against your chest and sink further into the couch. Times like these were when you wished you listened to your mother and learned how to braid as a child. You proudly (and embarrassingly) belonged to the secret society of black women who don't know how to cornrow braid for shit. 

"Why don't you just go to the lady who does my dreads?" He suggested, but you turned that down immediately.

"I am not paying a hundred dollars to get my hair braided down."

"I'll pay." Yes, Erik was boujee, "A hunnid ain't much." As hell.

Sitting up, you give him an incredulous look, "Okay, Bill Gates." And with an eye roll you add, "That's a waste of money. You know what Tasha could give me for half of that?" And you explain that you could get a wash, braid-up and styling, which was a lot more worth it. You considered wearing a wig, but the ones you had needed to be retired.

"Aight, hold up." He disappeared back into the kitchen, the sound of the stove turning down and metal clanging broke through the silence.

In two days, you had a very important meeting that would potentially change your life and Erik knew how much it meant to you. It was all you would talk about once you got off the phone with the CEO of Beauty Inc.  

After the Cantu and Shea Moisture conundrum, you started your own line of hair products, a small one actually- with a leave-in conditioner, a shampoo and a deep conditioner. At first, you'd hand out samples and sell some products to family and friends. Then when you profited enough, you made an Instagram page dedicated to your small business. You paid for promotions and handed out samples for people to review and eventually your small business became a medium business and now you're on your way to partnering with one of the best beauty and hair companies in the entire country. 100% black owned, by the way.

When Erik reappeared, he had a slight smirk on his lips while scrolling through his phone. 

"What?" 

He sat down beside you and showed you the screen. "Look at this." 

You stared at the three images he had on display. Three different women with three different hairstyles. 

"Those are cute..." You scrolled back and forth between each picture. "But how does this help me, E? I can't braid, you know this."

"Just cuz you don't know how to braid doesn't mean I don't." 

At first it didn't register until you realized how long you were staring at him with a puzzled expression. "You can do what?!" 

"I. Can. Braid." He said slower looking a little annoyed.

If this were a sitcom you would've fainted *cue the laugh track* but Erik was being so serious, the smile on his face had been replaced with a stoic expression. 

"How the hell am I just- Erik! We've been together for how lo- Oh my g-" You couldn't even finish your sentences due to the shock. This man was full of surprises, but this right here definitely put the cherry on top. At some point you got up, pacing back and forth with your fingers resting against your temples. "Boy-"

He grabbed your arm to stop you from moving, "Chill baby, you acting like you ain't never seen a man braid."

"Nah that's not even it! You of all people can braid!?" You're not exactly sure why you were reacting like this... Maybe it was out of embarrassment that your hyper-masculine boyfriend could do something so stereotypically female that you couldn't. This had to be something he learned during the military, but what would they be braiding other than ropes? If they even did that! 

"So you gon' let me do your hair or nah?" 

With a hefty sigh (that he called you out for), you grabbed a pillow off of the sofa and placed it in between his feet. "Hold on." You retreated to go get your hair products for this man to either slay or destroy your hair.

By time you got back with your styling tools and hair products, Erik had set on a comedy movie, one that he's seen a million times, but you refused to watch it- not anymore of course as you were now trapped in between his legs.

"Oh nah, you're hot as hell." You got up even faster than when you sat down and went to blast the AC. 

"That ain't me, that was all you. Pacing around the damn room like you was warming up for track or some shit."

You sat back down, scooting closer to rest your back. "I can't believe I'm doing this." 

"Have faith in me baby, when have I ever let you down?"

You could recall a few times, "Remember our first date?"

"Aye, that was a first date. Them shits never go as planned." He retaliated.

"You're lucky I even considered a second date."

He began to chuckle, "I made it up to you with my fire di-" But he always fixed it.

"Okay!" You slapped his leg. "See, all you think about is pussy!"

"Nah, that's not all."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think about your booty and tits too." 

You roll your eyes and slap him even harder on the calf, "Nasty ass."

"Anyway, you ain't choose a hairstyle." He leaned down showing you the options again, his torso resting on your head.  

"Hmm..." You scrolled back and forth one last time before going with your favourite style, "That one." 

"Aight cool." He sat up and you could hear him rub his hands together, "My baby bout to look sexy as hell."

"And if you do anything st-"

"(Y/n), chill. I said I got this, quit all that worryin' shit." He untied the wrap off of your head and tossed it to the side. 

"I'm serious, E. You know how much this meeting means to me."

"And you acting like my hands have never been in other chick's hair."

Your eyes widened as you got ready to stab him in the leg with the rattail comb. "WHAT?"

He erupted into a laughter, "Chill. I'm just playing!" He began taking the twists out one by one.

Oh he he ha ha now nigga, you almost made me stab you in the fuckin' popliteal. "You ain't funny." 

"I am funny, you just don't know how to take a joke."

"My other niggas are a lot more funnier than you." You tease with a serious tone.

"Aw hell naw, see (y/n). Why you tryna get somebody killed? I can do that shit right now."

"Chill. I'm just playing." You mock his response. 

"Oh you got jokes, huh?"

"Yup, just like my other niggas." You quip, this time with a smile. A feeling you have not felt since you were a child painfully tingled your head. "Did you just pop me in my head?!"

"You're misbehaving. And if you wanna act like a child, I gotta treat you like one."

You wanted to bite his hypocritical ass. "Boy, fuck you."

"Like I said, we can do that later."

For the rest of the time, you both continued to exchange remarks to tick each other off. You got popped in the head at least five more times with each comb. At one point you did end up biting him on the thigh, but that only resulted in him starting the braid over because you screwed it up according to him. He surprisingly wasn't rough as he usually was with everything else (despite getting hit by the comb) and he was very precise. You could catch a small glimpse in the camera on your phone, but each time you tried to look, he would yank your head back so you couldn't see. You had to remind him that your neck wasn't made out of jello. 

One thing you learned from this experience was that Erik is huge on perfection and tidiness. Now the cleanliness of his big ass house made sense. You thought he hired a thousand maids, but each time you've been there you haven't seen one. When your bedroom was a mess, Erik would actually go in there and tidy up for you, but not before criticizing you of course.

If a braid looked slightly crooked or not good enough, he'd take it out and start over. No, he was no professional, but he wanted his girl to look amazing after he was finished. 

The movie was coming to an end and you were ready for him to be out of your hair. Not that it didn't feel good when his fingers ran across your scalp, but you were very anxious and based on the conversation you both shared within that time, he could've been ruining your hair just to be petty.

"Eriiiik?" You whine.

"Hmm?" He was done the braids and now fluffing your curls.

"You didn't fuck me over, right?"

He sighed, "What, you don't trust me?"

"I ain't never seen you do hair in my life. What am I suppose to expect?"

"Greatness." He simply said, adding shea butter to seal in the moisture. "Trust a nigga sometimes, baby. I'd never have you looking like a fool."

He wasn't lying. Erik always had you in the latest fashion, even though you asked him to stop buying clothes worth half of your pay check. Not that you had bad taste, but as said before, Erik was boujee- as hell. 

Suddenly the thought came to your head. When the hell did he even find the time to learn how to braid? He was usually always so damn busy. 

"So who taught you?"

He sucked a breath in between his teeth before responding, "You gon' get mad."

Already knowing the answer you still ask, "Why?"

"Cuz you was prolly expecting me to say something like my grandma." He scratched the back of his neck and sat back, "But it was that hairdresser I was messing around with." 

You knew exactly which one. Kaleisha. 

That's actually how you met Erik. And it actually explains a lot of why she unexpectedly banned you from going back to her salon. Erik's dumbass just had to flirt with you in front of her clients. If gossip was an olympic sport, the whole shop would've won first place all the time. You didn't know they were a thing at first, not until Miss Betsy, an elder lady who wore the stiffest wigs, warned you. She was in everybody's business, inside and outside of the salon.

"The one that kicked me out cuz of you." You grumbled and got up to stretch as he finished. He watched your back arch, reminding himself to get it even deeper later on.

"Right." He gave you a coy smile, "Aye turn around, lemme see that pretty face."

You didn't even try to fight your grin as you turned around. The smile on his face was enormous. It was a bit scary too, he was usually frowning or not broadcasting any emotion. 

"I. Did. That. WHEW!" He jumped off the sofa, startling you and pulling you into a tight. "Sexy ass!" He littered your face with kisses.

"E! St-stop!" You laughed, barely able to push him away. When he finally let you go, you ran over to the mirror to see his accomplishment. You stared at your hair in awe. He really did that! You were speechless honestly, it was excellent! Better than some of the hairdressers you've been too. 

He smiled at you, "I told you I know what I'm doing."

"Ain't no way!" You were astounded. How the hell could he braid better than you!? Well actually to be fair, you didn't obtain that skill and you refuse to ask him how. He'd hold that over you till the day you die. You continued to admire your hairstyle while saying, "Oh my God." It made you wonder who he been practicing on for it to be this good, so you ask.

He frowns, "What did I tell you before? Trust a nigga sometimes."

You turn around and give him a hug, "Thank you baby! I love it."

"Anything for you, shorty. But, imma need a payment." His tone became very mischievous. 

"Payment?" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Yeah, you thought shit was free?"

"Uhh... Yeah." 

"Nah lil mama, show me that arch and we can negotiate a payment method." 

This ni- Fuck it, if there's anything he deserved right now it would be this. 

Oh, and your meeting with that CEO went a lot better than you thought. You would definitely be thanking Erik for giving you that glow and a confidence boost when you got home.

Thanks for reading!

What hairstyle did you choose out of the three? I'd pick #2.

Apologies if you can't see yourself doing any of them. If you have short(er) hair or none, it's all good! It was just to add visuals.

I was actually gonna let Erik do normal cornrows (that ended up being a bit messy) so she could wear a wig, but I said screw that. I feel like Erik would perfect anything, and plus he's a smart guy so I'm sure he'd be able to braid. 

P.S. Who else belongs to the secret society of black women who don't know how to braid? 😂 I'm half in-half out lol, I just need more practice.

(Start/Finish: January 4-5, 2019)

P.S. I am no longer a part of the secret society :P I learned later in 2019 (current me writing this) Once again, ignore the A/N’s since the pictures are missing.

[innerpalaces]

THE PRINCESS WEI YANG - 181 PART 1

CHAPTER 181: A Blood Debt Must Be Paid With Blood

At that time, Yuan Yu was just angry for a moment and ordered people to smash all the boats. Unexpectedly, there were guards on the boat. Without any warning, those people had actually listened to Izumo's orders and wanted to attack him! This was simply unbelievable! During the fierce conflict, he was hit hard on the back of the head and knocked into the water. AHe gulped down a lot of water and was about to float upwards, but somehow he was pulled down by two cold hands. He struggled desperately, but his vision quickly fell into darkness.

He didn't know how long it took before he woke up from his coma, but found himself in a prison, and no matter how he cursed or begged, no one answered him. At first he thought that his captors would appear soon, but later he discovered that he seemed to have been forgotten. No one ever came, except every day at a fixed hour, a deaf and mute guard would bring him a bowl of clear water.

There was no sound in the surroundings. The scenes of the past, including the beautiful women, exquisite horses, rich clothes and fine food, flashed quickly in his mind. However, when he opened his eyes, he only saw a cold wall in front of him. Sadly, he realized that he had walked to the edge of death.

A few days later, for the first time, the entire prison was lit with torches. Immediately afterwards, footsteps sounded on the stone. Yuan Yu opened his eyes and saw a pair of spotless embroidered shoes inlaid with pearls. His eyes slowly moved upward, to the light blue dress, the white neck, and finally the pair of eyes like ancient wells. In this life, he will never forget these eyes.

"Sure enough, it's you -" Yuan Yu started, only to realize that his voice was terribly hoarse. He should have known that Li Wei Yang was the one who plotted against him. Yes, he threatened her safety, knowing her past, how could she spare him? She pretended to be nonchalant at the banquet before, but actually was just waiting for him here!

Li Wei Yang smiled and said: "Why, are you not happy to see me? Oh, I understand, does His Highness Grand Prince Yan not like this environment?"

When she said this, Yuan Yu saw clearly for the first time the place where he had lived for a long time. It was a very empty cell, dark and damp everywhere. The outside was covered with torture instruments, stained with blood, and the air was moldy and putrid. The smell was unbearable. When he couldn't see it, he didn't feel how terrible this surroundings were. Now that he saw it, it became even more terrifying. Immediately afterwards, he realized where he was - and then he was furious: "Are you crazy?!" He was actually locked up in the dungeon of his own palace, and he didn't realize it at all in the past few days.

Who would have thought that this was the place where he was imprisoned? How is this possible, Li Wei Yang, this lunatic!

Li Wei Yang laughed softly and said slowly: "Your Highness, Grand Prince Yan, you created this place with your own hands. Now it is used to imprison you. Isn't it interesting?"

Yuan Yu rushed over and grabbed the cold bars: "Let me out! Let me out! Do you know what kind of punishment you will get if you imprison me without permission?! You will be executed! Are you crazy?!"

Li Wei Yang sighed. Yuan Yu originally built this dungeon to imprison all those who dared to resist him, or to secretly eliminate people for Empress Pei, but he never expected that in the end he would be judged and imprisoned in this place. It's a wonderful irony of life, isn't it? She looked at Yuan Yu in front of her, and his face, which was even more beautiful than that of a woman, had undergone tremendous changes. It had become extremely thin, his clothes were tattered, and his breath was weak, making him look particularly pathetic. More importantly, because of excessive fear, the brilliance in his eyes was completely dulled, and he was entirely different from the handsome and unrestrained Grand Prince Yan before.

At this moment, a woman's voice suddenly sounded: "Yuan Yu, I am the one who locked you up here." Under the flickering firelight, Princess Yongning walked out from the side with a victorious smile on her face and looked coldly at Yuan Yu's suffering.

Yuan Yu said angrily: "Yongning, are you betraying me?!"

Princess Yongning sneered and said: "I wholeheartedly married you and followed you all the way to Yuexi, but how did you repay me? Not only did you humiliate my personal maid, you even caused me to have a miscarriage. This is not enough. You also instigated the concubines to embarrass me and forced me to hide in a nunnery! Do you think I will let you go?!" She is the  princess of a country, with the noblest blood flowing in her body. She can tolerate harm, but cannot tolerate deception and insult. Yuan Yu tried to deceive her again and again and treated her like a fool. How could she let him go?!

Yuan Yu looked at Yongning in disbelief. No matter what, he couldn't understand how Princess Yongning could actually betray him! She was obviously such a stupid woman, and she let him manipulate her in the palm of his hand. How could everything become like this! His thoughts raced and his face changed drastically, and he fell on the edge of the cell. He threw himself against the bars and his eyes became filled with tears: "Yongning, please save me! I was wrong, I was wrong, please forgive me! I will never do it again in the future. I will do whatever you want me to do. I can drive away those concubines and side consorts for you, and I will never get close to any woman other than you again! Tell her to let me go!"

Yongning was shocked. She didn't expect that he could cry whenever he wanted without feeling ashamed at all.

Li Wei Yang sighed and said: "Your Imperial Highness, your acting skills are getting better and better!"

Yuan Yu's expression suddenly changed, and he shouted harshly, "Li Wei Yang, it's all you. It's you who deceived Yongning. It's you who ruined the relationship between us husband and wife. It's you who designed all of this!" After saying that, he turned to Princess Yongning, his eyes filled with pleading, "Yongning, why did you listen to an outsider to harm me? Have you forgotten that we are husband and wife! Do you want to be a widow again?"

Li Wei Yang laughed softly and said: "Your Highness, Princess Yongning has already become a widow for the second time. Didn't you hear the funeral being held outside?"

 Yuan Yu's face became frightened. He stared at Li Wei Yang who looked calm, and then at Princess Yongning who was not moved at all. He could hardly understand what the other party meant. She had become a widow for the second time, which meant that..... Soon, there was not even a trace of blood in his face...

"You—you actually—you actually dare!" Yuan Yu pointed at them, speechless in horror.

Li Wei Yang looked at him with a half-smile: "Why, is His Highness scared?"

Yuan Yu's face was completely distorted. They had fabricated the news of his death, which also meant that they were convinced that he would never live to see the sun outside. From now on, there wouldn't be a person named Grand Prince Yan Yuan Yu in this world.

He opened his mouth wide, but stopped talking. Li Wei Yang knew what he wanted to ask, so he said: "On the third day after His Highness Prince Yan disappeared in the water, someone found your body on the river."

Yuan Yu murmured: "But I am still alive."

"Yes, you are still alive, but in the minds of people today, you are already dead. Moreover, your whole body is soaked in water, and they can't even see your original appearance." Li Wei Yang said softly and skillfully, with a very clear, calm tone.

Yuan Yu's body shook violently, as if he had been subjected to some unbearable force, and his face turned gray: "Empress Pei will not believe this, she will definitely not let you go!"

Li Wei Yang smiled and said: "No, she will believe it. Your Highness Prince Yan loves Miss Izumo so much, but do you know who her real guest is?"

Yuan Yu stared at Li Wei Yang and vaguely noticed something was wrong. Many clues that he had originally ignored came to mind. Indeed, Izumo was obviously waiting for someone, but not for him. So, Li Wei Yang knew this and deliberately asked Princess Yongning to lure him out to take the opportunity to create conflicts. But Izumo is just a little singer. Even though countless people spend a lot of money to praise her, she doesn't have the guts to openly reject him, let alone let her guards fight with him. This only proves that the people behind Izumo are far more powerful than him. There are only a handful of people like this in most cities...

Li Wei Yang saw the strange expression on Yuan Yu's face and said as if she was kind-hearted: "His Imperial Highness Prince Yongwen, Empress Pei's biological son, was Miss Izumo's guest. Isn't Your Highness Prince Yan Empress Pei's confidant? Don't you know this?"

Yuan Yu's expression changed drastically. The shock just now was covered in an instant, leaving only the piercing cold fear. Empress Pei had alienated him since the Dali incident. In addition, he married a Dali princess. Empress Pei was not happy and even Prince Yongwen also ignored him. If Izumo was really the Crown Prince's lover, he would have known it before, but now, he has missed such important information...

Princess Yongning sneered and said, "You don't have to be surprised. It's all because Izumo's status is too low and she's not even qualified to be the Crown Prince's companion. The prince naturally won't publicize it everywhere, let alone tell such a useless person as you." In fact, she was also very surprised as to why Li Wei Yang knew such important news... She didn't understand!

The smile on Li Wei Yang's lips made people feel cold: "Your Highness, do you want to know how I discovered this secret?"

Yuan Yu stared at Li Wei Yang, his eyes extremely fierce, as if he wanted to tear her apart. Li Wei Yang smiled lightly and said indifferently: "After dancing that day, I saw with my own eyes a sachet falling out of Izumo's pocket. Normally, there should be nothing to hide about this, but she seemed very nervous and immediately collected the sachet. At first, I didn't pay much attention to it, until my personal maid told me that there was a very beautiful sun mark on Miss Izumo's sachet. It suddenly occurred to me that this mark should belong to the Yuexi Imperial family. Izumo embroidered this sachet, so it must be to give to a member of the Imperial family. But if Izumo interacts with the Imperial princes, it will be nothing more than a romantic affair. She has always regarded herself as a courteous woman and has never revealed her secret lover to anyone. The only possibility is that her status is too low and clinging to him will have a great impact on his reputation. Then it is already clear who this person is, isn't it?"

From the first day Li Wei Yang came to Dadu, she had carefully learned about the Imperial family members in Yuexi, including Empress Pei and her most beloved son, Prince Yongwen. If the Crown Prince of Dali seemed too mediocre amid the excessive attention of everyone, the Crown Prince of Yuexi was the complete opposite. Empress Pei doted on her daughters very much, but she was very strict in disciplining the prince. When Prince Yongwen was five years old, he went hunting with the emperor for the first time. He shot five arrows, hitting a goshawk and four rabbits. However, other children at this age could not even draw a bow. If this was the only case, then Prince Yongwen would be just a martial artist, but when he grew up to eight years old, he was already proficient in all the classics and history, as well as various philosophies. Not only is his speech gentle and clear, but he is also diligent to a level that is difficult for ordinary people to match. It is said that his calligraphy has eight styles and is indescribably beautiful.

Not only that, His Highness the Crown Prince's requirements for himself are even more stringent than ordinary people can achieve. Except for the Crown Princess and the side consort given to him by the Emperor himself, his palace has never had any beautiful concubines, nor had he left behind any stains to his reputation. There is no perfect person in this world. The more perfect Prince Yongwen behaves, the more Li Wei Yang feels that he is pretending well. People who have been forced to exercise extreme self-restraint have a stronger desire to rebel. The reason he doesn't take beautiful concubines or get close to women is not because he doesn't like beauties or that he is infatuated with the Crown Princess, but that his desire for the throne has surpassed everything else. In other words, his love for his own perfect image had reached a degree of distortion.

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[negativepeanuthoarder]

What has been your favorite line/section in a fic you've written

Funny, hard hitting, whatever 👀

Oh god it has to be the fake twitter thread I wrote in the Yung Gravy crackfic where the person was trying to cancel Dream for accidentally making a sex tape 😭

the section included below the cut

“Wait, wait, go back up,” Yung Gravy asks, and Dream scrolls up a bit, giving him a puzzled look.

“Why Dream making porn is harmful, problematic, homophobic, and dangerous, a 🧵,” Dream reads out loud, sighing. The profile picture is TommyInnit fanart, which is… fitting, really.

“Wait, I want to see that,” Amouranth snickers, climbing into bed beside both of them as Dream clicks on the thread.

“I’m going to start this off by saying that I’m not super fond of Dream, but this is really crossing a line ,” Dream reads aloud. “ First of all, this video was uploaded to the internet, where there are MINORS!”

Amourath and Yung Gravy snicker. 

“It's basically GROOMING to have ANY pornographic content at all, but ESPECIALLY because DREAM is a MINECRAFT youtuber with a HUGE child fanbase! This is irresponsible!” Dream reads more, and Amouranth and Yung Gravy share a look.

“They do realize that most of your viewers are… eighteen to twenty-four, right?” Yung Gravy asks, puzzled.

Dream just sighs. “This person thinks any sex at all, even between consenting adults, is “grooming” so. They probably don’t have all the lights on upstairs.”

Amouranth snickers. “Read more,” She asks, and Dream does.

“As we ALL know, Dream says he's 'unlabeled' or whatever, but he really just doesn't want to get canceled for constantly queerbaiting us with his friends, so him going so far as to make a sex tape with another man is just GROSS,” Dream reads, and Yung Gravy just laughs.

“They do realize that you’re basically bisexual, right? ” He asks. “ Really, I’m the one who should be canceled for having sex with a bi dude.”

Dream stares at him. “Yung Gravy, I know you’re joking, but if you go knocking on enough doors, the devil will answer at some point.”

Yung Gravy snorts. “Fair point, continue.”

“Next, Dream HAS to know that the porn industry ABUSES women, which means that HE's abusing Amouranth by having sex with her! I don't care that she's getting paid, it's still wrong!” Dream reads, sighing. “These people are nuts.”

Amouranth frowns, narrowing her eyes. “This person’s a fucking idiot,” She growls.

“Tell me about it,” Dream sighs, reading the last tweet in the thread. “So yeah, if you support Dream or Amourath or Yung Gravy after this, you can just unfollow me. Moots, you have 24 hours before I post your social security numbers on the internet.”