#until i can find that one post addressing this i just felt the need to say it here - but i def wanna reblog it over yonder as well

[babygorewhore]

Daddy issues

After your dad is arrested, you try and beg for his job back. But Rafe Cameron decides another way for you to help your father. And his arrangement is different than you imagine.

Warnings! Daddy kink! Talks of violence! Slight reference to abuse! Choking! Blow job! Rough unprotected sex! Breeding kink! Virginity loss! Dirty talk!

You didnt know if you were more angry or surprised when you got the call from the officer that your dad was arrested and currently in jail for assault. You were finished working your late shift at the restaurant when your phone rang.

You screamed in your car on the way to the station. Your dad was a dead beat. An asshole who didn’t know how to fucking control his temper. Daddy dearest also liked to get loud with you, throw things when he didn’t get his way and one time he slapped you in the face.

You slapped him back and threatened to slash his tires. But the threat was empty considering he needed to work, which you had no idea how he kept his job at the docks while working for Rafe Cameron. It used to be his father Ward until his suicide. You’d met him often while picking your dad up, given you had to share a car.

He was…polite you could say. But he was also scary. He glared at everyone and he was short tempered. You usually heard him snapping or yelling if something wasn’t done right. Your dad complained about how strict he was.

But his status and wealth made everyone obey him and intimidated you. His attractiveness however was on another level. His height made you feel small and his blue eyes cut through people.

You slammed the door at the station and went to the desk. After signing in, you tapped your foot impatiently as an officer came up to you.

“Are you…?”

“My dad is here. He just got arrested.” You ground out. You hated being here. She nodded and looked at paperwork in front of her.

“Are you here to post bail?”

“I’m here to see if there’s any way we can clear this up as a misunderstanding.” You tried to plead but she shook her head.

“Ma’am, he attacked a man at a stoplight. He beat him up to the point he lost one of his teeth.”

You pressed your head against your hand. Jesus Christ it was worse than you thought. “How much is bail?”

She looked again at the paperwork. “Looks like we’re at 6,000 dollars.”

“What? I thought the bail was lower than that!” You shrieked.

“Ma’am. He also had multiple charges. Public intoxication, disturbance and assault. He caused a lot of trouble. I suggest you alert his job tomorrow. But until then, he’s going to spend at least 60 days in jail.”

You started crying. You couldn’t help it. It hurt so much. You couldn’t get a break. And now you’d have to face Rafe Cameron and face the humiliation of your dad being in jail.

You cried on and off the next day as you had to switch your schedule to the evening and make the phone call to your dads manager about his current situation. It was immediate termination and you broke down even harder in your bedroom. You refused to take his phone call, afraid you’d explode on him.

As you got ready for another dreaded work shift, your phone started ringing to a number you didn’t recognize. Hesitantly, you answered.

“Hello?”

“Your dads in jail, huh?” You immediately froze. It was Rafe’s voice. How did he-well he was capable of finding anything out.

“I-um. Yes. And he can’t work for you anymore. But if you’ll please reconsider. I know he’s a piece of shit but this is the only job he’s lasted out and we desperately need the money. I’m trying to get a car and we have to share one. I know this is probably pointless but I can’t help but try. So please, please take him back.” More tears came and you felt like a total cry baby but you pushed through.

You expected him to laugh but instead silence met you.

You bit your lip hard enough it bled.

“Meet me at my house. I’ll text you the address. I have a proposition for you.”

“Why can’t you tell me over the phone?” Your stomach tightened.

“Do you want me to help you or not?”

“Yes. Of course. I’ll be there.”

“Good girl.”

You set the phone down but seconds later his address came through in a text and your breath stopped short. He wanted to see you after work.

Five minutes before closing and after you finished cleaning, the drive to Rafe’s house wasn’t that far and now you knocked on his door. When he answered, you tried not to reveal how much you found him attractive. His hair was in his face and his eyes were glazed as he looked down at you. His fingers twitched and you imagined what he was doing with that hand…

Rafe gestured with his head for you to come in and you followed him inside the massive penthouse. He had everything you imagined. Expensive furniture, floors and lights.

You followed him to the kitchen where he pointed to the bar stool. “Have a seat.” He muttered.

You obeyed and watched as he circled the island in the center of the room. “So. You wanna save your dads job?”

“Yes. I’m willing to do anything-“ You stopped short when a smirk fell on his face.

“Anything?” Rafe challenged. “It looked like you hated him whenever I saw you talk to him.”

“It’s complicated.” You replied and his smirk grew into a cruel smile.

“Looks like someone has daddy issues.” Rafe countered and you crossed your arms.

“I-well when you put it that way-“

“I’m just bringing up what you’re telling me. Your dad beats the shit out of someone. He went to jail-and now you’re doing anything you can to fix it. Tell me if I missed anything.” Rafe’s voice was low and you hated that he was right.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound pushy. I’m just in a tight spot.”

“Oh I’m sure you’re in a…tight spot.” His meaning was clear and you swallowed.

That was the exchange.

“Look at you. Being a little smart girl and figuring it out. I’m gonna get to the point. You want me to take him back? Bail him out? I get to fuck you. Anywhere. Anytime. And anyplace I want. No condoms. No hidden birth control. No. I wanna see my cum leak out of that desperate pussy.”

Your mouth opened and closed. “I can’t just fuck a stranger. And no birth control? I can’t fucking get pregnant.”

“I’m a selfish whore, baby. And I can afford one. And those are my terms. Either that. Or your dad rots.”

You bit your lip. You weren’t in a position to say no. You needed the money. And Rafe was hot. There were worse guys. Rafe got closer, his big hands reaching to cup the side of your neck.

“Yeah? You want it?”

Slowly, you nodded.

Rafe crooked a finger, signaling you to come closer. You stepped down and approached him gingerly and looked into his gaze. Rafe then latched his hand around your throat. His grip was so strong your feet almost lifted in the air and your eyes widened as he crushed his lips to yours.

His lips devoured you as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. You weren’t experienced. Sure, you’d touched yourself and made out with people.

But actual fucking? You’d never done that. And you knew that was about to change.

“You want me to take care of you, don’t you?” Rafe loosened his hold on your neck and pressed you against the island counter, “need someone to be your daddy?”

Your hands flew to his chest as you brought him impossibly closer, his lips sucked your skin with bruising force. You opened your mouth as he slipped his fingers inside.

“Suck.” He commanded and you listened. Spit gathering on your lips as he kneed your legs apart and lifted you up on the counter.

“Need daddy to help you? Fill you up with my cum?” His dirty words made your cunt twitch as he started toying the end of your skirt. Your thighs dampened as he trailed his thick fingers along your flesh, his fingers grazing the wet patch of your underwear.

You started grinding to give any friction against your arousal as he apparently changed his mind and threw you to the ground by underneath your arms. Rafe gestured to the crotch of his pants. “Consider this your first payment, baby. You ever done this before?”

You shakily remained silent as he huffed an amused laugh.

“Really? A girl who’s such a perv that she’s willing to fuck someone giving her money? Never would have guessed. I guess I’ll be nice and help you.”

Rafe undressed his lower half, his cock leaked with precum and he took your hand. “Swipe it with your thumb, get it all wet.” His massive hand compared to yours was almost comical as he grabbed the back of your head.

“Open your mouth, princess. And remember to breathe through your nose.”

After that, he silenced whatever worries you had by shoving his dick forward. You run your tongue along the thick underside, lessening some of the heavy weight by massaging with your hand. You took the tip through your mouth, shoving down any nerves as you sucked. Rafe bobbed your head up and down as he pushed you further, your head bouncing as your eyes squeezed shut.

“No, no, open your slutty eyes and look at me.” He growled. He leaned over the arch of the space between the counter and where you sank on your knees. The skin of his cock was supple as you continued aiding with your hand. It was hot to the touch.

“Good fucking girl. Maybe I’ll reward you by fucking your pussy.” He started thrusting and hitting the back of your throat. “Breathe. Breathe through your nose.” He wiped a few tears away with his thumb as you listened to him.

You knew he was getting closer as he stopped talking, his breathing heavier as he moved your head. His cum spilled inside your mouth, as he released you and you coughed.

“Not bad for your first time. We’re gonna practice some more.” Rafe smirked as his face was flushed and his fist flexed.

He moved on top of you on the floor, hiking up your skirt and ripping off your panties. He spread apart your wet cunt and dipped his middle finger inside your clenching entrance. “You’re such a whore. Never done any of this and you’re already gonna cum. Should have known you’d be daddy’s cum slut.”

Rafe yanked your legs apart, and spit on your pussy. “Not that it needed it, but I’m gonna be a little more kind to you.” You shrieked as he grabbed your jaw.

“Are you on birth control?”

“No.” You quickly answered. “Never-never needed-“

“Good. And you’re not going to. Got it?” Rafe moaned as he pushed his tip in your pussy, “fuck you’re so tight.”

You winced from discomfort but then his knuckles hit your clit, aiding to relieve your tension as he circled them. “Gonna make you mine. Take you away from all that shit.” He grunted as he pushed further.

Rafe let you wrap your arms around his neck as he thrusted.

“Tell daddy you like it.”

“I like it.” You sobbed as he moved harder. “I like it, daddy.”

It was slightly shameful how quickly you came all over him and spilled onto your legs. Rafe also came again and you felt it inside you. He was serious about no protection.

He stayed for a few seconds before getting up. And pulling his pants back on. He extended his hand and pulled you up. You knew you were a sight to be seen, fucked out eyes and messy hair. You just lost your virginity to Rafe Cameron.

You cleared your throat and watched him sweep his eyes over your face. “So. My dad?”

He shrugged. “He’s already out.”

You paled. “What?”

“I posted bail a few minutes before you got here. But as for his job, you’re gonna have to work harder than that. I have conditions.”

“But I already said-“

“More than just fucking you, baby girl. I own you now. You are mine and no one gets to even think about fucking you. I will cross any line you make to keep me away. And if you try, I will punish you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” You whimpered as he loomed over you.

“And?” He mocked. “You already agreed. You need me. Don’t you?” He cupped your jaw. Tightly but not as harsh.

“Yeah.” You leaned in to his touch. Your defenses are completely down. You needed care. You were always working. Always cleaning up after someone’s mess. And now…he was going to take care of you.

And either make your daddy issues better.

Or worse.

@xxhellfirebunnyxx @imyourdaninow @lesservillain @take-everything-you-can @slvt4jamesmarch @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @scene-and-dandylover @emsgoodthinkin

[klaus-littlestwolf]

In your last post you said about Klaus getting turned on by watching the reader eat?

Could we have more on/about that in a separate one-shot if you have the time? 💕

One More Bite -Klaus M.

I combined this request with another one I had gotten in my PM’s for Klaus’ mate giving him a blowjob when he’s in his wolf form, so fair warning on that.

If that is something that the original requester isn’t okay with and you don’t want to read this, send me another request and I’ll write something else for you as I understand you may not want to read something like this because it’s for such a specific kind of reader I assume (even though I am one of those readers).

Warning: Severe Warning on this fic! This fic contains Smut while our favorite Hybrid is in his wolf form! Blow-Job warning! Klaus becoming aroused by watching his Mate eat food. Also brief mentions of a school shooting when talking about the Scream movie series.

Sitophilia: Arousal involving food

Don’t Like=Don’t Read

Dead Dove:Do Not Eat!

Klaus has no clue where it came from.

It started when he was in Alarics body in the lunch room, watching over his Doppelgänger and her friends was proving entertaining to him…until he saw her. Y/n was a friend of theirs that didn’t seem to be all that involved in their Supernatural affairs, blatantly ignoring them as they spoke about the immortal Hybrid that sat 2 tables away possessing their History teacher.

She was a beautiful girl, one of the sweetest the 1000 year old man had ever seen, he swore it was true with how kind and naive she seemed to be. Klaus felt the need to protect her and ensure her safety, swearing to himself he would leave her out of all of this but just as he was about to leave the lunchroom he found himself captivated by her once more. It took a bit too long to notice that he was staring at the girl as she ate her lunch.

Klaus had never really been fascinated by watching someone eat before and it was an odd thought all together, but he couldn’t deny his enjoyment at watching her…he also couldn’t deny the raging erection in his pants that he willed away as strongly as he could as he wasn’t in his pants or his body and he was Not dealing with that!

He had gone to the front office later that day, finding her file and reading as much about her as he could. Her name was Y/F/n, she was on the honor roll with mostly all A’s and a few B’s, he found her address as well as the fact that she is emancipated and living in that apartment alone. He looked more into that, finding out that her parents had died a few months prior (when Damon had released the tomb vampires) and she lived on money they left as well as what she made working in a movie theater in the next town.

He found himself hating the idea of his girl being forced to work a job on top of going to school and getting amazing grades, only to come home to an apartment all alone with no family and no real friends as that Scooby Gang doesn’t seem to be very close with her. Klaus can’t explain his feelings, his attraction, or why he wants to take care of her so badly but he knows he doesn’t want her working this hard so that she can be all alone and in pain.

Klaus ditched Alarics body as soon as he was able and while his witches were dealing with the things he needed for his curse, he made his way to the next town and into the little movie theater. He walked into the theater and up to the snack counter where she was sat, reading something on her phone before jumping up as she saw him.

‘Good afternoon sir, what can I get for you to make your movie experience better?’ She asked, a smile on her face as if anyone could enjoy this job everyday. He hated seeing the dark circles under her eyes that she tried to cover with makeup, he wanted to see her in a comfortable bed, sleeping as much as she needed, wanted to watch her enjoy breakfast in bed with the knowledge that she didn’t have to go to work or school or do anything other than be with him. He found himself staring down at her as he imagined feeding her that breakfast while his cock was still buried deep inside of her cu- ‘Sir?’

‘Sorry, lost in thought there.’ He chuckled and she did as well.

‘I do it all the time, no worries. Can I get you something to eat?’ He looked as if he was considering it before responding.

‘Actually, I would love to get you something to eat.’ She looked up at him confused and he thought it was adorable. ‘Would you like to see a movie with me?’ She was shocked by this, clearly, and didn’t respond very quickly. ‘What time do you get done?’ He asked as if he didn’t know it was in 5 minutes.

‘Oh, I’m done in about 5 minutes. I have to get home and study for a test though-‘

‘Aw, let yourself relax a bit. Let me treat you to a movie, you can get whatever you want to eat, and you can pick the movie.’ The blush that spread over her face was adorable and he loved every second of it.

‘Really? Even if I pick a chick flick?’ He nodded, seeing a coworker walking out to take over her shift. ‘Okay, I want to see 5 Nights at Freddy’s…let me go get changed.’ Her smile lit up Klaus’ whole world and he smiled as he watched her walk away, her cute little ass nearly on display in the short skirt she had to wear as a uniform. Klaus only waited about 5 minutes for her to return after getting the tickets (and experiencing the man’s shocked face as he bought all the tickets in the entire theater so that they would be alone), wearing a dark tank top and fluffy pajama pants. ‘Sorry about the clothes, I was prepared to go home and get in bed.’ She explained but he waved her off.

‘Not a problem, next time I’ll wear pajamas too. I’m Nik, by the way.’ He teased, seeing her eyes light up at the idea of a second date.

‘Y/n, nice to meet you Nik.’

‘Alright, what do you want to eat?’ This was a dine-in theater, and while Klaus remembered when theaters sold popcorn, soda and candy exclusively, he found himself happy about the idea of providing his girl a good meal and getting to watch her eat it.

‘Oh, I’ll just get a small popcorn-‘

‘You just got off work, you must be hungry. Please let me get you a meal? Anything you want, if you don’t choose I’ll choose for you and I’ll be forced to feed it to you.’ He teased, wrapping his arm around her waist to test the water of how she felt about him touching her and to his surprise she leaned into his side, allowing his hand to stay on her waist. She was attracted to him too, he could practically smell it, and it made the Hybrid truly happy to know that his girl at least liked him as well.

‘Fine, okay. Hey Kyle, can I get an order of cheese fries, please?’

‘And?’ She shot him a teasing glare before rolling her eyes.

‘And a large order of chicken tenders with extra honey mustard. And since we’re bending this guys wallet, I’ll also have a large chocolate brownie milkshake-with extra chocolate sauce…I hope you like chocolate cause I won’t drink all of that, it’s huge.’ Klaus just grinned as he handed over his card. ‘Wait! You’re not getting anything?’

‘A bucket of popcorn too, please?’ He ordered and she stared at him as he paid for the wildly overpriced food. He carried the popcorn, allowing her to drizzle butter all over it along with salt before they went and found their seats, a girl bringing Y/n’s food about 10 minutes later just as the movie started.

‘I can’t believe there’s no one else in here, especially this late.’

‘Is this a popular movie?’ He asked, genuinely having no idea what it’s about. Klaus hadn’t come here with any intention of watching a movie, he just wanted to be with his girl so to him, the movie didn’t make one single fucking difference.

‘Oh yeah, it’s based on a horror game that I loved, plus Matthew Lillard is in this so I want to see it desperately. People really believe that his character is just Stu from the Original Scream a few years after he “died”. Which he 100% didn’t by the way.’ He could see how sure she was of this and enjoyed her dedicated belief to a movie she clearly loved.

‘How are you so sure he lived?’ He wondered and she turned her body to him more, ready to explain her theory.

‘Okay, so he was supposed to be the killer in the third scream movie! He was cast and everything but they had to scrap the whole plot. It was going to be based on a school shooting but that was right as Columbine happened so they changed the whole movie. Respect for them not doing that, 100%, but it proves that canonically he is absolutely alive. I don’t really get the connection to this movie, but if people believe it then why not?’ He nodded along, enjoying himself as much she seemed to enjoy these horror plots.

‘You’re a horror movie girl, aren’t you?’

‘Yup. Which is weird cause I used to be terrified of all scary movies but now I love them. We should have a horror movie marathon, clearly you haven’t seen the Scream movies and if you haven’t seen them, what else haven’t you seen?!’

‘Most of them, I’m not much of a TV watcher. I mostly just paint in my free time, I’ve seen a few though. The one in the mask who tries to kill his sister.’

‘Michael Myers, Halloween.’ She said, instantly knowing what he was talking about.

‘The Hick who has a chainsaw and wears people’s faces?’

‘Leatherface, Texas Chainsaw Massacre.’

‘The demon people, one of them has pins all over his head?’

‘Pinhead, HellRaiser. Truly an amazing movie, probably one of my favorite plot lines.’ He was amazed at how she knew every one of these from just the simple descriptions, he knew they were probably popular but it was so cute how sure and excited she was.

‘And the guy with knives for hands.’ Her eyebrows raised as he said this.

‘I’m going to assume you mean Freddy Kruger from Nightmare on Elm Street as we’re talking about horror movies and not Edward Scissorhands which is a sad movie that ripped my soul from my body. It a great movie but it’s sad as hell. Why are people so mean to everyone just because they’re different?’ He shrugged at this.

‘People will always judge what they don’t understand, especially when it’s other people. It’s always been that way.’ He knew from personal experience and Y/n seemed to hear the emotion in his voice because she reached over and took his hand in hers.

‘People suck. Cheese fry?’ She offered, holding out the box and he took one, watching as she bit into a couple as the lights went down. He was thankful for his vampire vision as he leaned back into the seat and kept his eyes on her. She was fascinated by the movie but he was fascinated by her. Klaus watched as she ate, finally getting to watch her eat a meal that wasn’t a snack in a cafeteria. The idea that he had provided his girl food, a real meal (for seemingly the first time since he first saw her 3 days ago) was satisfying to say the least. He stared as she ate her fries, her tongue peeking out every now and again to lick the cheese from her lips, causing his cock to twitch every single time. The moan that came from her as she first bit into a piece of chicken had him fully hard and completely desperate, watching as her tongue licked the honey mustard from her finger, her lips wrapping around her thumb and sucking on it with a “pop” as she pulled it from her mouth. He was so lost in his thoughts as he watched her perfect little mouth, he didn’t even hear the words that came from it. ‘Nik? You okay?’

‘Hmm? Yes! Of course, I’m great…you’re so damn gorgeous, and it’s distracting.’ Her cheeks turned red as he said this and she couldn’t hide it from him.

‘You are really sweet…please tell me this isn’t some kind of weird joke.’ As she said this his mind was ripped from his fantasies, confused as to why she would think something like that.

‘What? That’s crazy, why would you-‘

‘You walked into a movie theater without a ticket, came up to the food counter and asked me out to then buy a ticket and buy me dinner. You’re either the oddest and luckiest man in the world considering I was finished my shift when you came in, or this was planned and someone put you up to it…I’m an 18 year old girl in high school on a date with a hot dude in his 20’s…you can at least imagine why I’m a bit skeptical?’ She looked sad and he hated that he had caused it…why is this girl getting to him like this?!

‘I’m sorry that you feel the need to be skeptical of someone asking you out. I admit, I planned to ask you on a date. I saw you yesterday and I thought you were lovely so I decided to ask you out, I thought taking you to a movie after work would be a nice idea, I also thought you would enjoy relaxing and watching a movie right after your shift-‘ A look of guilt overtook her eyes as she realized how much thought he put into asking her on this date and she felt horrible instantly.

‘Oh God…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m a bitch! I-‘

‘No you’re not, relax love. It’s okay, I can see why you were questioning the situation. I want to take you out again, I enjoy you already and I admittedly enjoy feeding you.’ Her eyes widened a bit but she couldn’t turn more red than she already was.

‘Oh…okay? I-I can honestly say I haven’t heard that one before but it sounds nice to me.’ She joked as he reached out, picking up a French fry and feeding it to her, grunting as she wrapped her lips around the tip of his thumb to get the melted cheese off of his skin, taking her time a bit too much as she did this and Klaus couldn’t hold in his groan.

‘Christ Y/n, you’re going to be the death of me.’

Through the rest of their date Klaus enjoyed feeding his girl nearly all of the food he had bought her, her insisting he at least have some as well and he brought her home that night, pressing his lips to hers sweetly and deciding he liked that his girl blushed 90% of their time together.

It was 3 days later that he found out why he was so desperate for this girl more than any other in his entire lifetime.

They had been texting almost all day every day along with him visiting her daily, Klaus getting everything ready to break his curse and actually getting it done with some help from his annoying elder brother (after he tried to murder him) before running off into the forest, his wolf determined to get where he needed to be.

It was the first time in 1000 years that Klaus could hear his wolf in his head the way other werewolves could. In the almost month he had been a Hybrid 1000 years ago he had gotten used to him being there and the curse had taken that from him.

As his paws slammed against the dirt, sprinting through the forest Klaus couldn’t help but wonder where they were going and he quickly got his answer.

“Mate!” The voice he had so sorely missed, growled roughly.

“Mate?” He wondered, having heard the term before but knowing that werewolves finding their mates was extremely rare. Maybe because they were so far out of time if Klaus’ mate being alive 1000 years after his human life was an indication. “Y/n is my mate…no wonder I’m so drawn to her!” A happy feeling was bubbling up in his chest as he realized he had finally found his mate, something he had hoped could exist for him since he found out soulmates were real for wolves.

“Need Mate! Need Mate Now!” The aggressive growl was almost concerning to him as his paws slowed to a trot when he arrived at the home he had been visiting his girl in for the last few days.

“She’s going to be scared! We can’t let her see us-Stop!” He snapped, feeling stupid that he was literally shouting at himself.

“Mate Knows! Mate Not Stupid!” His wolf snarled, sounding offended by the idea that she didn’t know who he was. He scratched at the apartment door and Klaus tried to control his body, to run back into the trees and away from her when the door swung open and his Mate looked down at him in shock.

‘I have to be honest, didn’t see this coming Nik. I mean I got the whole “Nik-Klaus” thing, Elijah told us all your real name but…what exactly do you want me to do with this?’ She asked, clearly entertained by him showing up in his wolf form. He whined, scratching at the doorframe which made her chuckle. ‘Okay, you can come in Niklaus-oh, okay.’ He walked into her apartment before she was even done speaking, hopping up onto the couch and staring up at her as if waiting for something to happen. ‘I seriously thought your interest in me was a joke when I realized who you were. Damon was making fun of me for falling for it…you’re actually into me, aren’t you? Cause I figure you being here right now means either you really like me or you plan to rip me to shreds in my own home. Which is it?’ She asked him and Klaus rolled his eyes, laying his head onto her lap when she sat down beside him on the couch. ‘Oh…good…I could get used to this.’

For the rest of the evening Klaus lounged on Y/n’s couch with her, watching horror movies from the extensive list that she had made of “Horror Movies Nik Needs to Watch”. He also enjoyed once again watching as she ate her dinner, or his personal favorite, watching her eat a pint of ice cream. God, he wants her tongue on his cock so badly, which she noticed as it was on display and larger than one would expect. To her credit, she ignored it for quite a long time, pretending it wasn’t there until the voice in his head made it physically impossible any longer. He was talking about all the different ways he wanted to bend her over and fuck her tight little cunt until she was begging him to stop, practically drooling over how her tongue peeked out and licked the ice cream off of the spoon, desperate to watch her lick his cream off of his hard cock which is around the time his member began leaking onto the blanket underneath him on the couch.

‘Nik?’ She questioned and he lifted his head from her lap to look up at her, as if pretending he hadn’t been staring at her this whole time. ‘Do you need help?’ He tilted his head as if asking her what she meant…she couldn’t possibly mean- ‘Do you need help with your…problem? It’s distracting and it seems to be getting worse.’

At this moment Klaus is happy that he is not just a vampire, but also in his wolf form and unable to show her how embarrassed he is with a look on (what would now be) his completely red face. He couldn’t stop the slight whine that escaped him before jumping down from the couch and trotting over to the door, scratching the wood and waiting for her to release him. “Let Mate Help!” That aggressive voice piped up again and he tried to shove it back down.

‘I didn’t mean I wanted you to leave, I…I mean if you wanted me to, I…it would have to be really fucking private, I mean if you ever told anyone I would skin you alive!’

Klaus suddenly felt his tail come to life, wagging around behind him like crazy as he released a small “yip” sound, moving back over and hopping up onto the couch again, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

‘Ahh! It’s cold and wet!’ She was giggling and it was a sound that Klaus knew he adored from the moment he first heard it in the schools cafeteria. ‘I hope you realize that when you’re human again, I want an explanation as to why watching me eat gets you so worked up.’ She teased, moving from the couch to her knees. ‘Are all wolves cocks this big, or is it a werewolf thing?’

“Perfect Mate! Pretty, Perfect Mate! Need to Fuck Mate!” Klaus shook his head quickly as that thought came from nowhere, trying to keep his wolf from controlling anything else when suddenly his cock was enveloped into her hot mouth causing the pathetic sounding whine that exited him.

Her lips were stretched wide around his thick member as he now leaned back against the couch, wanting desperately to hold onto her hair but knowing that he can’t. He settled for one paw resting on the back of her head and couldn’t hold back the growl that burst from his chest, her tongue trailing over the head of his cock which nearly made him finish laughably fast.

You could have never convinced Klaus that this would be something that he wanted, in 1000 years the thought had crossed his mind, of course, but it wasn’t something that really got him off until now. Now, rutting into his mate was all he could think about like it was playing on a constant loop in his mind. As he looked down and saw her on her knees in front of him a content purr built up in his chest. He didn’t know how deeply he had longed for his mate, maybe if his wolf hadn’t been bound from him, he would have.

His thoughts were cut off by the choking noise that came from her as his large cock hit the back of her throat. “Perfect Mate! Perfect Little Tongue!” The growl that exploded from him made her eyes widen in fear before he was cumming in ropes into her mouth, her hand coming up to catch what leaked from her lips.

‘Fuck!’ She cursed after swallowing everything he had to give and looking up at him, as if an innocent little virgin who hadn’t just sucked his wolf cock into next year. ‘Do all werewolves cum that much?’ She giggled and he whined in response, leaning forward and licking her face. ‘I’m not doing that again until you prove how good you are in bed as a man first.’ She was teasing him but he nipped at her throat, catching the skin and watching a drop of blood rise to the surface. ‘Ow…shouldn’t you be out slaughtering innocent humans right now?’ He shook his head, which he’s sure looked like a dog shaking off the water after being in the rain. ‘But that’s what you were going to do before finding me?’ He didn’t respond to this, simply moving to lay down across her lap as she sat back on the couch. ‘It’s okay, I’ll still be here when you’re human again, go.’ He peeked up at her, from this angle the light made her look like an Angel sent from Heaven, as if a gift just for his devilish soul.

“Stay Close! Never Leave Mate! Never Again!” He really hopes that once he fucks his mate and makes her his that his wolf will calm down about her, he may be right but he’s intense.

‘Go Nik, I’ll be right here when you get back, I promise. I have nothing to do tomorrow, I will stay until you come and get me. When you do we’ll order take out and you can stare at me while I eat it.’ He sat up, making a questioning noise that he honestly didn’t know he could make. ‘I Promise.’ She insisted, jumping up and opening the back door towards the woods. ‘I won’t leave, I won’t open the door for anyone either. Get, before you get needier and decide to hump me in my sleep.’ He did as she said, leaving out the back door and taking one final look at her before he was gone, running through the woods as he had always longed for, every day of his immortal life since it was snatched away from him and for the first time in his very long life, knowing that he had someone to come back to.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[avocad1s]

Trial By Combat - 4

Requested By: No One. Original Work.

CW: Post-SAGAU Imposter AU, Mentions of killing a divine being, kidnapping, drugging, manipulating people

Summary: Your health takes a turn for the better.

Note: 4.0 Archon Quest Spoilers.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five

It was only under exceptional circumstances that the harbingers would return to the homeland. If one of them managed to obtain a gnosis and further the Tsaritsa’s plan, a celebration was in order. Yet even then, it would be miracle for all to appear .

However when one of Tartaglia’s subordinates returned holding the newest edition from the Steambird, the Tsaritsa ordered all of them to return Snezhnaya.

The deafening silence filled the hall, encasing the walls with anticipation. As the pages were passed to the last harbinger, they were suddenly slammed onto the table before fluttering gracefully onto the floor.

“Focalors proves time and time again that she is not worthy of being an Archon.” Arlecchino spits. “I will go there and rip that gnosis out of her dead body.”

“Wait just a second.” Tsaritsa calls out. “Before we act, we must find out if their Grace is still alive. This paper gave no details of their condition.”

“Her Majesty is right. If their Grace is still alive we need to prioritize bringing them here.” Pulcinella adds.

Arlecchino scoffs, “I can do both. I’ll get the gnosis, kill Focalors, and get Their Grace.”

“That’s a bit ambitious. Don’t you think?” Pantalone questions, his voice as sweet as honey.

Alrecchino digs her nails into her palm. “This isn’t the time to pick a fight when Their Grace could be dying in the so-called Nation of Justice.”

“I agree.” The Tsaritsa begins, “Alrecchino will go to Fontaine but the Gnosis and Focalors are not the priority. Getting the Creator back to Snezhnaya is the only thing that matters.”

“—and if Their Grace is dead? What shall we do then?”

Everyone turns to stare at The Doctor. Although none of them wanted to think about the worst case scenario, it was still something that needed to be addressed.

“Then Focalors will beg for a quick death.”

-

When you woke up, you were greeted by more Melusines. They stood resolute in your room, as if they were guarding you. While the Melusine in front of you held a tray with food on it, it was plated beautifully. It was fixed with great care and it’s easy to tell a lot of attention was put into making it perfect.

“Did Neuvillette send you all again?” Are the first words to leave your lips once you sit up in the bed.

Blathine, who stood the closest to you, nods. “Monsieur told us to watch over you.”

She slides the tray carefully onto your lap being careful to not let anything fall. You look down at the tray licking your lips, you didn’t even realize how hungry you were until food was right in front of you.

“Thank you.” You smile picking up a piece of the sliced bulle fruit putting it in your mouth. It was sweet and refreshing, you craved more, desperately famished.

As you eat, you can’t help but notice how the Melusines get closer and surround your bed their eyes on you. You hesitate for a moment, dropping the piece of fruit back onto the plate as you wipe your mouth.

Their eyes followed every move you made, it was clear that the species was interested in humans but this felt like something else. Like how a child would act with their parent.

“I thought Melusines were responsible for guarding Fontaine?”

These five Melusines were apart of the Marechaussee Phantom, the blue uniforms and hats made it obvious.

“Monsieur Neuvillette increased the number of Gardes and Gardemeks around Fontaine so that we can prioritize your safety.” Menthe explains.

“My safety?

“Lady Furina and Monsieur Neuvillette prioritize you over everything. Everyone does.”

You want to scoff at their words, if you really were as valued as they say you wouldn’t be in this hospital bed right now.

“Your Grace…?”

You look up noticing a woman in a white coat standing by the door. Her blonde hair was pulled into a low bun and her red lips stretched into a welcoming smile.

“I’ve been assigned as your personal nurse and I’m here to change your bandages,” she explains. “Are you finished eating?”

You look down at the tray and the half eaten food on it. You still felt a bit hungry but having all these eyes on you made it difficult to eat. You push the tray away slightly as you nod at the woman.

The woman takes a step to enter the room but the Melusines were quick to approach as they checked her and her bag for anything suspicious.

The nurse places her bag at the foot of the bed opening it. Inside were multiple different medical supplies, bandages, and gloves. She grabs a pair of the gloves sliding them onto her slender fingers.

“How have you been feeling Your Grace? Any pain in your abdomen?” She asks.

“No. No pain.” You reply shifting slightly.

She looks over at you giving you another smile, “don’t worry Your Grace I’ll be quick. We just don’t want your wounds to get infected.”

You lay down on your back as the nurse slowly lifts your shirt to reveal the golden stained bandages wrapped around your torso. Carefully, she begins to unravel them making sure not to cause you any pain or discomfort.

Once the bandages were fully removed, you notice her eyebrows furrow. She bites her lip slightly as her eyes dart all across your exposed skin.

“Is something wrong?” You ask feeling a sense of dread creep up your spine.

“I— Your Grace.” She stammers, “Your wounds, they’re already healing.”

She touches what was left of your injury with her gloved hand. The gash was already almost closed and there was no more blood leaking from it. The wound looked more like a large scratch rather than something that could’ve killed you.

“Healing!?” You reply, “Already?”

“It’s fascinating…” she breathes out, “I never seen anything like it.”

The nurse begins to notice your discomfort, she clears her throat as she bows slightly to you. “I apologize for my behavior Your Grace. That was very unbecoming of me.”

She grabs the fresh bandages from her box and quickly wraps your abdomen back up.

“I do not believe you need these bandages anymore.” She says as she secures the bandages with medical tape. “however I will wrap them just as a precaution.”

Once she back away and pulls off her gloves you pull down your shirt and sit back up in the bed.

The nurse closes her bag and picking it up to put back in her shoulder. “Although you are healing much more quickly than expected, you should still drink plenty of water and get some rest.”

“I will inform Monsieur Neuvillette of your condition. I think by daybreak tomorrow you should be able to leave this bed.”

It was relieving to hear that you would be able to leave this bed soon. Being cooped up in the same room for days at a time was mentally draining. Especially when the only ones who visited you (excluding the Melusines) all groveled at your feet for an apology.

“Enjoy the rest of your day Your Grace,” she bows again, “I hope that you will be able to enjoy everything Fontaine has to offer you soon.”

She turns and walks towards the door, her heels clicking as she walks.

As her footsteps fade, the room grows silent again. You pull the blankets off your body standing from the bed. The Melusines watched your movements before Blathine speaks up.

“Did you have somewhere to go?” She asks tilting her head slightly. “We have been instructed to follow you.”

“I want to speak to Neuvillette.” You reply stretching your sore limbs, suddenly not feeling anymore pain in your abdomen.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” She repeats, “Shall I bring Lady Furina as well? She’d love to talk to you.”

You shake your head quickly, “No. I only want Neuvillette.”

Blathine nods as she skips towards the exit of your room.

“Very well, I will return with the Iudex immediately.”

-

For the first time ever, the Northland Bank was closed and no outside personnel were allowed to enter. In fact, no one apart of the Fatui had been seen in the past twelve hours.

Except for Lyney and Lynette.

The magical duo who are loved by everyone in Fontaine, or at least they were before people found out they were from the House of Hearth. Although their name had been cleared from that case, no one would trust anyone associated with the Fatui.

That didn't stop them from entertaining the people around Fontaine with their latest tricks.

Even after Father returned from Snezhnaya the night before.

Alrecchino's visits were always sporadic, the children understood, she was a Harbinger. However this time it felt even more unexpected. The children had never seen her look so angry in their lives but she would never take her anger out on the children. There was one person in particular that she wanted to lash out on, but she has to focus on what’s important.

Lyney and Lynette were the ones pulled aside by Alrecchino, the task she had for them now was bigger than finding out the true nature of the Oritrace.

Yet the twins knew that a second chance will not be an option this time.

-

Getting into the hospital where you were being held would be impossible, that much was true. The level of security around that building alone was enough to rival any trial that had ever been held in Fontaine. No one would be getting into that building unless cleared by the ludex or the Archon themselves.

There was only one person that wasn’t a notable figure in Fontaine that was able to enter that building. The nurse who went through so many clearances and was lucky enough to provide the Creator with any medical assistance they needed.

When she had stepped out the building, the nurse was immediately surrounded by reporters from the Steambird who wanted to know anything about the Creators current condition.

“Could you tell us anything about how the Creators doing?”

“Are they healing? Have they woken up?”

“Will we be able to see them soon?”

“I apologize,” the nurse begins as she glances around at the crowd. “I cannot give any information on Their Grace at the moment.”

The reporters visibly deflate at the news, or rather the lack of news. She pushes her way through the crowd to head towards to Palais Mermonia. The streets of Fontaine were empty, most people were too focused on The Creator to be bothered with anything else.

“Excuse me, Miss?” A voice calls out.

The nurse stops walking and turns around to see who called out to her.

It was the twins, two faces anyone in Fontaine would recognize.

Her face brightens slightly, “Lyney and Lynette! I love your magic shows!”

Lyney gives her a sly smile as he takes a few more steps to be closer to the woman, his sister follows but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m glad you’re a fan!” He exclaims, “My sister and I have been working on our latest trick for our newest show. Would you mind if we showed it to you?”

The nurse hesitates, “Actually I don’t think I can—“

“It’s just one trick!” Lyney interjects, “It won’t take too much time, I promise.”

“Alright fine.” She concedes, “I can only stay five minutes though. I have somewhere important to be.”

The twins exchange glances while nodding.

“Very well! Prepared to be amazed!” Lyney exclaims.

Lyney and all of his siblings knew how awful that Fatui was. The group has done unimaginable things and ruined many people’s lives. However, the children also knew that the Harbingers has their own aspirations that had nothing to do with the group.

Arlechinno only had the best intentions for her homeland Fontaine and the Creator, that is one thing Lyney knew for sure. So if getting the Creator out of Fontaine was the best option, then he would feel no remorse for what he had to do.

The trick was simple, something Lyney wouldn’t use during one of his shows just because it’s not entertaining enough. Yet he isn’t here to entertain this woman, all they have to do is keep her distracted long enough so Father’s plan can work.

Lyney pulls off his hat and bows to the nurse who only laughed and clapped.

“That was amazing as always! I cannot wait to see it in your next show!”

His smile fades as he fixes his posture placing his hat back on his head. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’ll be sure to reserve you a special seat in the front.”

Her laughter soon died down as she stares at the twins. Their warm welcoming nature was devoured by something more malicious. The nurse subconsciously takes a step back, the hand that held onto her medical bag began to tremble. Lyney’s face was devoid of emotion and Lynette’s gaze seemed to be focused behind the woman.

However, she had no time to turn around. Two large hands grip firmly onto her shoulders.

“You’re coming with us.”

The nurse’s eyes widen as the two Fatui Skirmishers forcefully pull her back towards the direction of the Northland Bank. She glances back at the twins who only watch silently as she is dragged away.

“What do you want?! Please don’t hurt me!” She cries.

In almost a blink of an eye, the woman was gone. With no witnesses or trace of her presence, the twins didn’t have to worry about being put on trial again.

Lyney sighs as he looks down at the pavement.

His sister places her hand on his shoulder, “Our job still isn’t finished. We still have to deal with the traveler. They cannot intervene.”

Lyney nods at her words as he readjusts his top hat, “You’re right. Let’s go.”

-

“You wished to see me Your Grace?”

Neuvillette stood by your doorway as he bowed respectfully to you. He spoke in a soft tone and he refused to meet your gaze.

“Yes. There’s something I needed to talk to you about.” You reply.

As he enters your room, the Melusines exit the room quietly leaving the two of you alone. Neuvillette stands by the window facing you. “How can I help you your Grace?”

“I’m sure the nurse has already told you, but my wounds are healing.” You say.

His eyebrows furrow as he brings his gloved hand up to his mouth, “No she hasn’t told me anything yet, but maybe she’s already waiting at Palais Mermonia.”

Neuvillette smiles, “but I’m glad to hear that you are feeling better. I will discuss your condition more with the nurse so I can make the preparations for you to leave the hospital. I want you to be as comfortable as possible in Fontaine.”

“There’s no need for that.”

His eyes widen momentarily but his expression doesn’t change, “What do you mean? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You look down at your lap as you fiddle with your fingers. Although he was trying everything in his power to make you feel comfortable, you still felt uneasy around the man. The last time you actually had an conversation with him, he considered you a criminal.

“I want to leave Fontaine.”

An awkward silence settles around the two of you as you wait for him to respond to your statement.

“I see…” Neuvillette begins, “…Is there a nation in particular you’d like to travel to?”

You ponder his question for a moment, you never really thought about where you’d go after you left the Nation of Hydro. It didn’t matter, you just wanted to get out of here.

“Sumeru.” You reply. “That is the closest nation, right?”

Neuvillette nods, “It is Your Grace, but to get to Sumeru city you’ll have to pass through the desert.”

“That’s fine I just—“ you pause, you didn’t want to say anything that he might take offense to.

“I can make the preparations for you to leave as early as possible. I will reach out to the Dendro Archon to make her aware of your arrival.”

“Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?” Neuvillette asks quietly.

You look away from his gaze, “No. I don’t think you can.”

Neuvillette nods as he lets out a breath, “I see… was there anything else you’d like to discuss Your Grace?”

You shake your head, “No I’d rather just be alone right now. Could you send the Melusines away too?”

You could tell by the look he gave you he wanted to refuse your request but he doesn’t. He gives bows again as he begins walking back to the door.

“Oh Neuvillette!” You suddenly call out.

He turns to face you again, “Yes Your Grace?”

“Thank you for the flowers by the way.” You say sheepishly, “they’re beautiful.”

You see his pale cheek grow red slightly as he quickly turns away from you. “I’m glad you liked them. I’ll be sure to bring you more.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his embarrassed reaction.

“Your Grace,” Neuvillette says after clearing his throat, “I brought you another gift. I’d be honored if you’d accept it.”

You fix your posture, interested in what this gift could be. “What is it?”

He gestures for Blathine to enter to room, she was holding a nicely decorated vase in between her tiny hands as she holds it out to Neuvillette. He smiles down at her as he grabs it with one hand, using the other to pat her head lightly.

Neuvillette walks over to your bedside with the vase in hand, “It’s water Your Grace. Some of the best water you can find in all of Teyvat. I collected it specially for you.”

He places the vase next to the bouquet of flowers.

“Thank you Neuvillette,” you reply, “I’ll be sure to enjoy it.”

As you accept his gift you notice that his mood seemed to lift, almost like you never told him you wanted to leave Fontaine in the first place. Neuvillette gives you one last bow as he heads back to the exit.

“I will return personally to check on you in the morning Your Grace.”

Neuvillette and the Melusines leave without another word. Just like before, you were left alone with your own thoughts. You could only hope that Sumeru was better than Fontaine, but Nahida was the God of Wisdom so surely she wouldn’t accuse you of anything without evidence?

You let out a sigh as you relax back into the bed glancing out the window. The sky already had a orange hue signifying that the sun would be setting soon. You didn’t even realize how fast the day had passed, spending all your time in this room.

“…Your Grace..” A soft voice calls out.

You glance over at the door, it was a nurse, but not the one you had earlier today. Under the white coat she wore an unusual outfit, wouldn’t it even be comfortable working in an thing like that?

She seemed to notice your gaze on her appearance. “I apologize for my clothing Your Grace, but the matter was important.”

You stare at her a guarded look on your face, “where’s the other nurse? She was the one assigned to me by Neuvillette.”

She nods, “You’re right Your Grace, but there had been a complication with your injury and I was tasked to bring you medicine.”

You raise a brow, “The other nurse said I was healing? How could that change so quickly.”

The mysterious woman enters your room fully, her footsteps as silent as ever. You could hardly see her face as the light began to slowly drain from the sky.

“After checking your old bandages we are worried that an infection is already growing within your body. I brought a serum to stop it before it gets worse.”

Your eyes widen as your hand rests on your torso. An infection? Just when you thought you would be able to leave this nation, you could be stuck here even longer.

“Will this medicine heal me quickly?”

“Of course Your Grace. Your health is our up most priority.” She replies quickly.

She walks to your bedside pulling out a small bottle from her coat pocket. The liquid within it was clear as she holds it out to you.

“Here, you have to drink it all.”

You grab the bottle from her fingers taking out to cork as you smell it. The medicine had no scent. Slowly, you bring it up to your lips letting the medicine spill into your mouth as you drink it in one go.

The woman smiles as she takes the empty bottle from your hands. “Wonderful Your Grace. You’ll be feeling the effects very soon.”

Your head suddenly felt heavy as if the world was spinning around you. What the hell did you just take?You look up at the woman and she just had a small smile on her lips not saying anything else.

You felt uncoordinated as you reach over to the vase Neuvillette had gifted you to take a drink of water. Maybe some water would help wash this feeling away.

The vase slips from your weak grip crashing onto the ground, the glass shatters as the water splashes everywhere. The overwhelming feeling to close your eyes was growing stronger as you take one last glance at the woman, but this time you see someone standing behind her.

This woman had white hair with raven streaks, her eyes were black with and her pupils were X-shaped.

“Don’t worry Your Eminence,” the new woman says, her voice soft and graceful, “I will take care of you from now on..”

You couldn’t fight the feeling anymore, your eyelids close as you rest limply in the bed.

“Lady Harbinger. It’s done.”

The Knave enters the room fully stepping over the shards of glass the was scattered across the room. She kneels down in front of you bringing her hand up to cup your face.

“Tell the others to prepare the ship. We are leaving Fontaine immediately.” She whispers as if you’d wake up if she spoke too loudly.

“And what about Their Grace? Are we taking them back to the Zapolyarny Palace?”

“No.” Arlechinno replies curtly, “I have other plans for Their Grace.

-

-

© avocad1s 2023

Note: omg this took so long to get out! But I hope everyone is enjoying 4.1 update! I haven’t started it yet since I wanted to finish this first but to all Neuvillette wanters (me) you will win the 50/50 <3!!

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If you wish to be removed from the taglist just inbox me and I will remove you! If your @ is bolded that means I cannot tag you (unless I’m just dumb lol)

[saetoru]

this blog is now archived !! find my MASTERLIST here !!

hi guys, and here’s a long overdue post that i wanted to take the time to make after collecting as many screenshots as i can for a lot of rumors that i think need to be addressed. before i do that, i wanted to apologize to all of my mutuals who ended up wrongfully harassed in their inboxes for simply knowing me—the irony of this issue being about bullying all the while people on this app have been simultaneously being genuinely awful to other writers who have zero involvement has been ridiculous.

i would’ve made this post sooner, but december was very busy—as you all know, i’ve been working with two separate companies for my capstone projects, and i had final presentations with boards to worry about. and then a cruise which was fun, but i was offline. now that i’ve finally had time to enjoy my break and collect my thoughts, i’d like to voice my own side to the discourse i’m sure you’ve all seen posted by @/garoujo, who is now @/gojoath.

first and foremost, i’ve been on tumblr for almost 4 years now, and while i may not have the brightest moments on here (no one will be spot-free in that amount of time), i’d like to think that if i actually went out of my way to vicious or bully people, this would’ve come to people’s attention a lot sooner. i’ve had a relatively large following across all 6 of my blogs in my time here, and while i don’t like to get into the metrics of my blogs, the reason i point this out is because i have willingly started my blog over 6 times. 3 of these were sfw blogs under my nickname tee, another 2 of which were my previous nsfw blogs under a different alias, and saetoru which is the current one, where i finally decided to combine my sfw and nsfw writing into one space. i just wanted to bring that up because i had quite a habit of leaving and restarting blogs before this one, and had i been obsessed with outperforming other writers in terms of follower counts, i would not have left the previous ones as often as i did. 

that being said, i’ll also go through a timeline of events and how they’ve snowballed into an issue that is not as one-sided as most of you might think. i’ve been mutuals with emmie since my first blog, and i’d been mutuals with her through most of her blogs as well. we’ve never really had issues until her last blog @/garoujo, which she’d started after deactivating @/atsymu due to discourse regarding racism accusations. the reason why we had a falling out was because i felt that there were a series of odd coincidences that felt slightly purposeful, but i was still questioning whether or not i was looking too deeply into it to actually point any of it out.

admittedly, when i saw her first set of banners, i felt our layouts were a slight bit similar, but i really didn’t mind too much because i had been planning to change my banners anyway because i was bored of them. so i took that as an opportunity to do so. it just so happened that within a day or two of every time i changed my banners, hers would be changed too—i never said i owned the color gray, and i even fully acknowledge that the last two sets of banners, at first glance, wouldn’t be a red flag. because, like i said, i was more uncomfortable with the pattern of coincidences than the actual layouts. then i switched to my instagram theme, and not long after, i noticed her add instagram story visuals to her navi. again, no one ever said instagram was my original idea, and that no one else could use it, but it was an unsettling feeling having the same moot continuously make changes around the same time as you, and changes that are different enough that you can’t exactly point out an issue, but slightly similar enough that you can’t exactly ignore the slight oddness.

coincidentally, the same day, another blog (who i will not name bc they’re not very active anymore and are also not very relevant to this story) made the same theme as me and i was a bit peeved because this same blog is someone who has copied a few other things from me and a handful of other moots, so i made a subpost on my moots-only personal blog at the time. keep in mind, i made this post fully aware that emmie was on this blog because i didn’t intend for that post to seem like it was about her. but she reached out to me, and i explained to her the situation, and i even provided the relevant screenshots to show my points. i still considered her a decently good friend at the time, and even with the slightly off feelings, i was still adamant about brushing them off and considering them coincidences that perhaps i was being a bit too critical of.

it wasn’t until i woke up a few hours later after changing my theme and going to bed that i noticed she’d then fully switched to the insta theme. again, instagram is an app used by millions and, at one point, was a very popular theme used amongst most people on this app. i’m not entitled enough to believe i was the first person to do it, but like i said. there are just off vibes most of us will not help but feel when a series of coincidences continue to happen back to back to back by the same person.

there were, amongst these things, a number of other small touches that made me feel off. most of them i don’t remember by now or have screenshots of, so i won’t bother to go into all of them, but for reference, one example i’d also like to point out that i’d had the phrase “you’ve reached the hanmas” in my inbox when she was still on @/atsymu, and sometime after, her sfw blog @/loveatsu had the phrase “you’ve reached the miyas.” small things like this are not things i make an issue over and am more than capable of brushing aside, but like i have said and will continue to push firmly is that i felt there were multiple instances of emmie, in particular, making small tweaks to her blog shortly after me that made me feel were not all coincidentally similar. the issue was never themes or thinking i am the first or only person to do something a certain way, the issue has always been me countless times feeling that one particular individual is exhibiting a behavior that is persistent and uncomfortable no matter how minuscule the instances may be. maybe they were really just unfortunate coincidences that happened with poor timing, or maybe they weren’t. but i stand by the fact that anyone in my shoes would be valid to question the timing of each of these events over and over again.

i would also like to bring up kinktober (though this happened a while after the rest of what i will get into) because this was the first public discourse that emmie and i got into due to an anon’s claims of similarities between our posts. i had received an anon who told me “i think someone copied your kinktober masterlist” which i answered to ask if they could let me know who. they had come back to say it was garoujo, and i did not reply to the ask, instead, i made a post to vaguely tell the anon that i appreciate them letting me know, but i will just leave it be and continue on with my kinktober regardless of emmie’s mlist. i do think there were some vague similarities, but honestly not enough to really question it, so i figured a confrontation or issue was not necessary. a while later, several moots had messaged me to let me know they had received anonymous asks saying to “block @/garoujo she copied @/sakusins and she’ll copy you too” (or something along those lines, i don’t remember exactly.) i myself was very confused (and upset) by the situation because i did not, and still would not, want to be publicly name-dropped in other people’s inboxes over issues that do not involve them. unfortunately, it led to some not-very-kind asks to both of us, and while i am sorry she had to deal with that, it is not an apology from a sense of culpability. that situation was, and still is, entirely out of my control. i would not have seen the masterlist unless the anon had mentioned it, and i did not take part in having people send asks about her to other writers. especially not in a manner that was pretty much social suicide for me as well. 

(this is a poorly made collage i know lol but i hit the picture limit bear with me here.)

i would also like to point out that i am not the only individual who has had issues with emmie and feels she had copied them. although i cannot disclose urls (they have been blocked out for privacy reasons) here are a few conversations i have had with my own mutuals, and i would wager there are more people whom i haven’t talked to who also feel this way. they might be small enough instances that sparking issues over them was not worth it to all of these people, therefore she has never heard from people herself about this issue, but the point does still stand that this claim about emmie is not one i alone make, and is one that i have heard countless times before. her never being approached by these individuals for the sake of peace doesn’t erase that they have been, and are, upset by these events, and it’s a habit that she seems to continually partake in. i would also like to link this post where she has been called out by another writer while she was still atsymu, which was posted while we were still friends. i’ve actually had a discussion with emmie about that post, and at the time, i had quickly skimmed the post and felt it was perhaps a reach, but after my own experiences, i went back to reread the post and considered perhaps there was validity to it, and that this might not be a one time occurrence. plagiarism in manners such as this will always have conflicting opinions, and it is hard to sometimes tell if something is a coincidence, a popular and overused idea, or something that has actually been copied. my point is that a number of people have all felt that perhaps there is a good chance this was not an accident, and please consider that so many instances of people feeling this way might suggest that there is a certain degree of validity to the claim.

at the beginning of all of this, when the masterlist banners had first started bothering me, i was upset, and i chose to vent to an ex-moot of mine who most of you would recognize as munsonsins. abby has deactivated a long while ago, but she’s relevant to this because i had chosen to vent to her at the time, and this is more or less what later caused this situation to escalate. at the time of venting to her, i knew she wasn’t mutuals with emmie because, as you can see, she’d told me as such. 

one thing i would like to point out is that there were a handful of people i had vented to about my frustrations with emmie, but one thing i had always been mindful of was ensuring these were a) individuals who i considered close friends and not just random individuals, and b) were not friends or moots with emmie in the event that i accidentally made people who she cared about think lesser of her. had abby been mutuals with emmie, i would not have shared my feelings, and once again, i was not loose-lipped enough to just tell anyone because they’d listen. i told abby in particular because i had felt we were sufficiently close individuals who talked one-on-one and were able to vent to each other. a bit after i vented to her, though, she befriended emmie, which i had no such issues with because abby was/is her own person and is an adult who can interact freely and befriend whoever she wanted/wants to. 

not long after that, on the night before eid (this detail is relevant in the future) an ex moot of mine @/kazuwhora reached out to me. if you guys remember, there was a discourse last year that was all over dash about how writers on this app should be open to criticism. a lot of people (including me and kc) were upset by that sentiment—which is still valid. please don’t give constructive criticism to writers without their explicit permission !! but regardless, kc sent me a screenshot of a mutual of mine who had posted their opinion on this discourse, and their point was clearly that while constructive criticism is important in some aspects, writers do not have to be subject to receiving it should they not want to. unfortunately, i felt as if kc misunderstood what this individual was trying to say, and i was trying to explain it to her, but we got into a small argument over how we interpreted the post. i felt some of the things she was saying about this individual were inappropriate, and i had made it clear that i was very fond of this person, and it made me uncomfortable to be having this discussion. regardless of whether she saw my interpretation of the post or not, i wanted to drop the discussion, especially because it was the night before eid. eid is the one holiday i celebrate, and there are traditions i quite enjoy the night before, and i didn’t want them to be spoiled with a poor mood over a silly argument. unfortunately, she wasn’t very willing to drop the topic, and it ended up making me upset. so i posted this screenshot to my moots only personal from the conversation that consisted of my messages only and said, “tonight i had to explain what a debate is.” it was petty, perhaps, but very harmless, seeing as there was no context given and no names/pfps to indicate who the person was.

truthfully, i had vented separately to cat, eris, and abby about this argument because i was friends with the three of them at the time, but needless to say, venting to your friends about arguments is a universal action, and i believe it is something all of us have partaken in. 

eventually, i decided to softblock emmie because i felt it would be more comfortable for me on my blog to do so. after a bit, i was informed of a subpost that seemed like it couldn’t be about anyone other than me—to make things clear, emmie subposting me was not my concern. i did not hold it against her because she is more than entitled to have her own feelings and vents on her own blog, but the thing that did concern me was that it seemed slightly evident that she was aware of my feelings when i had never explicitly had a conversation with her. it made me question who would tell her, and as you may have guessed, the only person with whom i had shared my concerns who could also be in contact with emmie was abby. 

at the time, eris had also voiced concerns that they had trusted abby with the ending of the plot for the diluc series they were planning, and coincidentally, one of abby’s friends had posted a fic idea eerily similar to their concept, to which abby had been commenting and reblogging more brainstormed ideas under. all of these ideas were very close to the plans eris had for their series plot, and understandably, they felt that it was not a mere coincidence that their entire plot was being brainstormed on dash by a person who was fully aware of their outline. i’d voiced my concerns with believing that abby may have also been sharing things i trusted her with, and as a result we both had made a few vague subposts that we liked from each other—a petty behavior, i will admit, but not something that i think is very out of the norm for a lot of people on this app. sometimes, we all just want to vent out our frustrations, and because we all more or less use tumblr as an outlet, these can sometimes be vaguely taken to dash. it’s not something that is ideally recommended (i’ve learned the hard way) but it’s also ?? not exactly something that only i’m guilty of, or is even a rare behavior. i think to shoot down one person for this behavior is quite frankly hypocritical. again, subposting isn’t a habit i would like to push as mature but it’s something i’d like to point out is very normal in this community, and is not something only i take part in. beyond that, i take to ensuring that whenever i do, i’m not explicitly exposing who i’m talking about in order to keep them out of unnecessary issues. 

after this conversation with eris, it kind of solidified in my mind that i did not want to trust abby with any more personal vents, or information, and i had ultimately decided to soft block her too. i had also decided to take the opportunity to softblock kc as well because i figured i might as well just remove individuals who i felt made me uncomfortable. this is, again, my right to do so to curate my own space. not long after, cat, eris, and i had been softblocked/hardblocked by a number of moots, and we were a bit confused, until cat ended up having a conversation with kc. many accusations were made about all three of us, more specifically, about me to kc by abby because the two of them had been discussing that they’d both been softblocked by me recently.

the list of accusations we were told of is as follows:

me, cat, and eris have a “burn book” where we “blacklist people.” it’s important to note that every time this discourse resurfaces (this is now the fourth time), the “burn book” has fundamentally changed in its composition—it has changed from a discord server “burn book”, to a google doc “burn book”, to the current rumor that it was an entire blog that was used as a “burn book.” it is consistently changed to fit whatever narrative is trying to be pushed, and regardless, the rumor itself is entirely untrue and has been addressed multiple times. cat has had a tumblr theme, a collab theme, and a server theme all dedicated to the film mean girls. she simply had a channel that was to share the urls of minors to block for interacting with nsfw works, or people who were anti-dark content—this is something that i have seen in all servers i’ve been in during my time on tumblr, and is not a new concept for many of you either. it’s simply a precaution a lot of servers take to warn writers about potential minors to block, and potential anti-dark content harassers. the name of this channel happened to be “the burn book” because it was a mean girls themed server, so the name just fit. nowhere in this channel were other writers in the community “blacklisted” or spoken negatively of, and here are the screenshots of the channel. this was simply something abby had twisted in order to paint us negatively. here is the link to cat’s post addressing it for proof and explanation (i run out of pictures or i would include them myself.)

abby also claimed that i was using this channel to talk poorly about kc and a handful of other moots. this is also false bc this server had several strangers (as it was cat’s server and i didn’t know all her moots), but it also had several of kc’s mutuals/friends in this server as well. i’m not so dense as to talk poorly about other writers publicly in a server, let alone a server i know has people who are friends with kc

now, this next part, emmie has conveniently painted out to be about me, as i apparently harassed and blacklisted people for liking itto from genshin impact, but i have been playing genshin for over a year on this app, and quite a large number of you are my own followers who see my rambles and my writing and i don’t have to explain that i have never written for itto, nor explicitly expressed an interest in him apart from perhaps one or two posts from back when i did his story quest. i never had, and still to this day, have no interest in the character itto. i’ve skipped his banner, i plan to skip his upcoming banners should they come, and i have never written for him, nor do i plan to write for him. this issue with itto is between eris and another individual, and i do not have the details to this, as i was new friends with eris at the time, and i’m no longer friends with eris as of current time. quite frankly, even if i knew the details, i wouldn’t go out of my way to share them because it has nothing to do with me. plain and simple.

as you can see, there were a number of rumors spread here to kc by abby, and as you can see, all of which led me to seem quite vicious in character. i’ve provided, to the best of my ability, screenshots and receipts of why each of these is quite drastically out of context and far from true to what abby has claimed. 

i did in fact, after these events confront abby because i was genuinely appalled by the way she knowingly and purposely twisted things conveniently to villainize me. she expressed that she was upset and paranoid by the subposts that she figured were about her once i’d soft blocked her, so i apologized for the posts. she had conversations with both me and cat about the rumors she’d started, and she also apologized for them to both me and cat.

the rumors that emmie has claimed about me in her post, which she conveniently provided no evidence of, are all rumors that are more or less a result of my differences with abby and kc. unfortunately, despite cat trying her best to explain to kc the falseness of most of these rumors, she didn’t really believe them—which is her business. to each their own. i’m sure if i had been in kc’s shoes and in one night, someone i had considered a friend had been painted to do a series of nasty things behind my back, i also would not know what’s true and untrue, and she is entitled to piecing together what she believes is her truth. what’s not fair, however, is for emmie to have no involvement/understanding of these events apart from a twisted narrative she heard from one person and dog pile them into her claims of my behavior to further paint me as a villain. emmie is more than entitled to have her beliefs on my character based on her own experiences, which she has provided her own evidence of, but simply slapping an “and i heard she also….” does not necessarily make claims true, and is very manipulatively thrown into the post to add a list of things that make my character questionable to further validate her point. 

not only this, but she has made a point to openly admit that she and her friends have collectively mocked me for my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, who they have apparently labeled as my “fake” boyfriend that i used to get attention on this app. quite plainly, i get enough attention on my blog that i don’t need a fake boyfriend to amp that up. but furthermore, i am a south asian, muslim individual. my parents are immigrants with very strict religious and cultural beliefs that i feel are very restricting at times, and though i love my family, i struggle with my identity quite a bit as i live in a very western culture that clashes quite a bit with my cultural norms. i do not get to freely explore my sexuality or even romantic life in general, unlike some of you. my parents have been kept in the dark about my relationship because them knowing about it is something that could quite literally create a rift between us, and i find it very insulting and almost suspicious that a white girl is making a mockery of my cultural struggles and my personal life. many of you are either desi or muslim or simply children of strict immigrant parents with quite stubborn traditional views. i’m sure plenty of you understand where i’m coming from when i say that i have to keep my relationship hidden from the majority of the people around me. tumblr is the one place i can anonymously share bits and pieces of my life without worrying about if it will literally cost me my relationship with my parents, so sometimes i may have overshared silly or pointless things, but that is because it’s my own way of being able to express myself and my relationship the way i have always wanted to. apart from that, dragging and making a joke out of someone’s personal life is quite unnecessary in this case. the issue is about tumblr discourse, and i find it very hypocritical that i am being labeled a bully when people, more specifically a white and privileged individual, is plain and simple mocking and poking fun at my personal life and situation that i have no control of. that is my piece on that. whether some of you believe i had a partner or not is not my business, nor do i have to go out of my way to show you evidence of my personal life. what i will say, however, is that there are a handful of close friends i have on this app who are involved in my personal life and have seen evidence of my love life through pictures and private stories on social media. quite frankly, these are the only individuals who i have to justify the validity of my personal life to, and it’s honestly quite violating for someone to stoop to dragging someone’s outside life into issues about tumblr. i extend a very genuine fuck you to every single one of you that have ridiculed my personal relationship and just know that you are extremely bold to consider yourselves above bullying when this is the type of behavior you admit to engaging in. individuals with complex familial relationships, and identity struggles between cultural norms, their ethnicities, and the western world are not your playground to make a joke out of. some of us have very real struggles, such as not being able to pursue careers in favor of arranged marriages, not being able to pursue actual relationships that mean something to us due to a lack of familial approval, being forced to bear children at young ages due to familial pressure, and so on. they are not laughing matters, and are a part of my reality. and before some of you get started—yes, it really is that serious. i have struggled my entire life with having white girls poke fun and tease at my cultural norms, and i refuse to allow another white and privileged individual who already has a record of racially related discourse walk away with once more poking fun at my personal struggles and not be called out for it. i hope you had a good, long, satisfying laugh emmie.

onto my next points based on claims @/anantaru has made about me. the main thing i’d like to really point out here is that anantaru and i have never, not even once, interacted to the extent of my knowledge. they claim that cat and i cannot stand it when people cross us in numbers and that we go through people’s likes in order to find minors and blank blogs to explain all the notes. a) i am very bad at checking for minors and blanks in my own notes, so this is not even a logical approach on my end, but b) this claim is made because cat made this post under the tags of a post going around last year that asked to hear unpopular ficblr opinions.

what cat means to articulate here is that sometimes, when she is scrolling on dash and interacting with moots and their shit/talk-posts, she peeks at profiles she sees in the notes and has happened to catch minors lurking. cat, firstly, has never followed anantaru, so they are not a “victim” to cat glancing at their likes, but secondly, this is not nearly as psychotic as it’s painted out to be. cat is not, and was not, jealous of other blog's notes. quite plainly, she’s not exactly a tiny blog either, and she’s only stumbled upon minors in the talks-posts of moots, including me. shit-posts/talks-posts are easy to notice minors lurking on, and while most people recognize that it’s quite impossible to catch every minor and ageless blog in writing posts with numerous notes, a simple shit-post on dash is more simple, and her unpopular opinion was simply that blogs that grow rapidly need to be better about catching those minors because they are susceptible to having more of them lurking. it’s a really harmless sentiment, and she’s gently reminded me as well on more than one occasion to be more responsible about my habit of being lazy when scouting for minors in my interactions. 

this is not out of jealousy, nor is it some sick and twisted habit she has to “explain” why people get more notes than she might get. it’s also out of a place of concern for her own content ?? i myself and plenty of other large blogs reblog from mutuals, and they are well within their right to be concerned that perhaps minors are lurking on our pages and interacting with works we reblog from our mutuals. cat has voiced this concern to me before, also out of goodwill and simple concern for my content, her content, and minors in general. there is simply no need to twist it into her viciously looking down upon large blogs and their notes counts and claiming they’re “only because they don’t block minors.” admittedly, though, i do need to be better about catching minors, and i have always appreciated her trying to keep me in the habit of being responsible about it. more importantly, it was a small passing comment under a post of unpopular opinions, a lot of them were hot takes, and this is hardly a serious one to get so heated over. 

i’d also like to point out that anantaru has claimed we blocked them for being a gatekeeper and because we’re jealous of their notes. 💀. a) i am very grateful and very happy with the level of interaction i get on my writing, as more people than i imagine leave me countless comments and reblogs. i have never had an issue with comparing my interaction with that of other writers because i have always been abundantly content with the interaction i get. i have no other comment on this other than cat and i blocked anantaru at the same time because we happened to see a post of theirs reblogged onto our dash that made a joke that we felt was a bit insensitive to/alluded to SA—i’m sure it wasn’t meant to be taken that way, but it made us uncomfortable regardless. while we are both dark content supporters, and i myself have read more than one fic that includes noncon in particular, it doesn’t mean we have to like/enjoy everything related to it and we simply decided to block them. i’m not going to bring this post up bc it’s simply not important. they are an adult who is more than entitled to make jokes on their blog and cat and i do not have to like them !! we simply did what we were well within our rights to do, and that’s blocking them.

there’s more they go on to say about receiving hate asks and that apparently it’s because of our “group of friends.” cat and i don’t have a group of friends. i don’t have any group chats with her besides the one with her boyfriend because i get along with him sometimes as well, and we used to play genshin together a lot when i was in low ar. not that i have to explain my friendships here, but i quite literally do not have a group of people to “send after” anantaru because people are well aware of my close friends, who i text with my personal phone number. i’ve posted silly screenshots of convos on my blog multiple times, and none of these friends overlap because i do not have a “group” of friends, just individual friends who i talk to one on one. cat is not friends with my other friends, and my other friends are not friends with her. there are no inner circles that conspire together to send anyone hate because i “tell them to.” and if there are screenshots of me explicitly encouraging someone to send hate on anon, i would love to see it. if i had sent my anons after anantaru, it would have to be a public post, and i’m sure if there were a post of such nature, it would have been brought to light by now. they have also claimed they were given multiple urls of mine to block. i only have ONE writing blog, @/saetoru, and the only other two that are still up are archived blogs @/hanmine and @/katsuphilia, which are side blogs attached to saetoru and have been inactive for several months. there are however, multiple individuals on this app who also go by the name “tee,” and perhaps we have unfortunately been mixed up as the same person, but the only blog i have is saetoru, so there is no other active blog they have blocked me from that belonged to me and was able to harass them.

not only that, but anantaru has claimed that one person off anon sent them hate with a kaeya url which they insinuate to be me. once again, you are all more than aware of my history of urls, and many of you have all been here to see them. i’ve never once had a kaeya url, nor have i ever been particularly interested in kaeya outside of a small number of posts on a rare occasion. my genshin favorites have always been characters from sumeru and, at one point diluc, and once again i don’t have to ?? explain my selfships to you all ?? but literally, i have nothing to do with a kaeya blog or kaeya account, and im unsure why it’s being thrown into my name. quite frankly, i’m not sure  what their moot has told them we have said about them, but the only conversations cat and i have ever had about anantaru was that one about the noncon joke, and that’s it. outside of that, there is literally no evidence of us speaking about this person because it simply doesn’t exist. 

i implore you all to, instead of starting public discourse over things you hear, confirm them first. had anantaru reached out to me or cat and expressed that they are upset that we are supposedly spreading false rumors about them gatekeeping, then whatever misunderstanding it might have been could have been cleared. i would like to also point out that it is not above bullying when you simply dump numerous accusations that you have heard through half whispers from moots and provide 0 evidence for them. i am perfectly aware of why emmie may consider herself to have issues with me, but i have never had an encounter with anantaru, and truthfully, i’ve never actually even read their writing before. my main (and pretty much only) experience with them is seeing the joke i saw reblogged onto my dash, and as i stated earlier, the only thing i did for that was block and move one.

and lastly, the other point i’d like to make is that numerous blogs who i have been objectively very kind to have come out to take the opportunity to stomp on my character and reputation. for example, tumblr user @/osaemu, who used to follow me and interact with me quite often. i have always been excited to interact with her because she was really supportive of my gojo writing, and at one point, i had a small area of concern with her using the same exact title as me for a gojo fic. below are screenshots of our conversation regarding the titles.

i am quite confident that this is a very polite interaction, and i was very clear that i didn’t think that her writing elements, including gojo’s parent dynamics and his dynamics with the reader, were copied or even something that i felt she needed to change. i pointed them out as a way of indicating that between these parallels and between the fact that i know she reads my rb! gojo series, i find it difficult to believe that our fic titles being exactly the same is a coincidence, and it made me uncomfortable—my concern was not how she wrote gojo’s parents or his dynamic with reader. i never accused her of stealing ideas that were mine alone to use, all i simply wanted to do was shed light on the fact that based on these parallels, i figured the names being the same was a touch difficult for me to brush aside as a chance similarity. i was very clear to outline that i know these dynamics and themes in writing are generic, and that people can pull inspo from them because i have done the same thing. my only concern was the title, which i politely asked her to change, and she agreed. case closed. i have been, again objectively, quite kind to osaemu, and i had no intentions of blocking her like a moot had suggested because i felt it was a very silly issue to block over since she was very lovely to me. 

i did, however, block her because she posted one-paragraph posts with multiple characters tagged. that’s not a crime on her end, and i’m certainly not here to police her posts in the tags, but as me and plenty of other people on this app have voiced multiple times, it is a bit irritating and feels like spam to see posts of these kinds in the tags so i blocked her. this is a very popular opinion and i refuse to be considered problematic for it. i am not here to police what constitutes an appropriate post to tag x reader tags on, and while i have made posts simply sharing my opinion on what i feel should and should not be tagged, osaemu is more than welcome to post whatever she feels she would like to into the tags. i do, however, block anyone who i come across who makes those kinds of posts because i simply don’t like them, and i don’t like seeing them. i don’t owe an explanation for why i block anyone, but seeing as i have been painted as some bitch for doing so, here is my reasoning. quite a lot of people agree on this sentiment, and to each their own, but i don’t enjoy seeing those posts. i did also unblock her at one point, as she mentioned. this is simply because a mutual of mine had voiced that they felt someone had copied the concept of their drabble, and i was helping them word a message to send, so i went back to this exact conversation to look back on what i said because it was a similar situation. as you know, blocking someone hides their dms from your dm list, so i had intended to temporarily unblock her just to see how i worded my message to help formulate a message for a mutual. there were no screenshots sent, i simply wanted to jog my memory of my points, that’s all. i did forget to block her again for a bit but eventually did, and that’s the extent of our interactions. i don’t recall posts telling people that i condone sending anons with death threats like she has claimed, and if she could point out the particular posts i have made where i encourage people to send anon death threats on my behalf, i would be more than happy to clear them up, or address them. 

i have admittedly, on a few occasions said in my responses to anon hate itself, the phrase “kys” out of frustration, and there are i’m sure conflicting opinions on that, but i do not regularly use this phrase in my vocabulary. i have been on the receiving end of graphic sexual and violent asks in my inbox regarding me, my teenage sister, and my mother, during my time on here, and sometimes out of frustration i have said less than dignified things, but this is not a constant behavior, and frankly, i think once people make graphic, violent, and inappropriate comments about my 16 year old sister, saying “kys” in response is not the greater of the two evils. it is a tad bit hypocritical to expect benevolence from me to an anonymous hate ask just because there is “another person” at the end of the screen when they have not extended the same sentiment to me.  

all of that being said, jumping on the trend to trample on someone while you have the opportunity to because you’re bitter they blocked you is also no better than bullying. apart from blocking osaemu, I have taken careful steps to always be respectful to her due to the very kind comments she’s left on my writing. leaving nice comments on my writing is deeply appreciated and welcome, but that doesn’t mean i have to subject myself to seeing posts i do not want to see on my dash on my phone. i pay for the phone bill, so i will cater my phone to show me what i want to see, and if that includes blocking a few people, i am allowed to do that !! i should not have to apologize for or be crucified for blocking someone and their feelings being hurt over it. 

not only this, but several of you have somehow started a rumor that i am 26 or even pushing 30. that’s nowhere close to the truth. i’m 21, soon to be 22, and i have stated multiple times i am an undergraduate college student. of course, there is no timeline to college, and people of all ages complete their undergrad degrees, but i have made it a point to vent about my concerns numerous times that i am very stressed about taking extra classes every semester to compensate for changing my major late because i want to graduate on time. my graduation year is 2024 (as would make sense seeing as i will be 22 years old), and if you don’t believe me, i have celebrated my bday on april 12th of every year this blog has been active. you’re more than welcome to check my archive to see if that’s true, and for further reference, here is a picture i have sent to mods of servers i am in to be accepted. (note that my url used to be hanmas before saetoru.)

although there is no shame in being 26 or pushing 30, the reason why i wanted to address this is that i wanted to point out that yet another rumor has been fiercely pushed on my name and has been believed to be the truth. no one has to walk away from reading this post assuming that i’m a saint and i have never done anything wrong or that i have been faultless in differences i’ve had with other people. but a lot, if not all, of these claims are exaggerated with 0 evidence, and people have just run with claiming them as true. i physically cannot deny a large majority of these rumors with evidence or screenshots because half of them are made by people i have never interacted with or talked to, and i cannot produce evidence for interactions that never happened. i have seen blank, burner blogs post stories of their experiences with me, one in particular that claims i dm’d them to tell them their hanma fic was breathtaking before i harassed them about their theme, boyfriend, and parents. a) i do not dm anyone to compliment their fics because i am simply too shy to do that. i would have only reblogged the fic with comments if i enjoyed it. b) again, there is no evidence on their part, and i cannot dispel this story with evidence of my own because evidence of conversations that never took place does not exist. and c) i would like to think i do not come across as dense enough to attack someone in their dm’s viciously about their boyfriend and parents openly with my account, where they could easily spread the proof around if it had actually happened. i am not responsible for people’s internet literacy, and if people believe every story that is shared with not even a small piece of proof that it took place, i cannot do anything besides simply urge you all to formulate your opinions based on what you see, not based on what you hear. 

i would also like to end things off with an apology to all of you—mainly because there was no reason for so many of you to be dragged into something that did not involve you and also because there are very disturbing and important issues going on right now in real-time in the world that are affecting a lot of people. i never want to be involved in something that takes attention off of important discussions such as genocide, and while many of you like to claim i am deflecting, i think it is quite telling that some people have posted nothing about something this important but have made multiple posts regarding discourse. i did not feel it was appropriate at that time to focus on discourse, and i still do not think so, but i wanted to leave off with my own statement.

i would also like to apologize if i have ever come across as unkind during an experience with me; it is never my intention to be that way purposely. i have a habit of being petty sometimes and can be a bit short-tempered, and it’s something i work on. with as large of a following as i have, sometimes it’s better not to say anything at all than say it—however vaguely it might be. i hope some of you who also have larger followings keep that in mind so that you can avoid discourse erupting into something grand scale. please vent to people you trust and be wary of having a habit to subpost. but mainly, please remember that people trusting you with their feelings and troubles is not something you should take pride in spreading. there is nothing to be proud of about sharing people's private socials, urls, and conversations. while i am not always able to keep my temper under wraps, and while i have had my fair share of petty moments, i, to the best of my ability, have always made sure that i don’t come across as intentionally cruel or mean, nor have i purposely broken someone’s trust. sometimes i have retaliated back a bit fiercely, but i stand by the fact that i never purposely chased or drove anyone off, mocked or belittled them, or sent people over to dislike/hate them. i have at times vented to those who i believe are people i can trust, sure—but this is something we as people are all guilty of. there’s no way any of us can hold one person more accountable than others for partaking in closeted conversations that are never meant to get back to people and hurt them. 

i genuinely loved, and still love, writing very much, and i have always appreciated every ask, every reblog, and every comment. writing is a hobby i am greatly passionate about, and it’s always a hobby i was very excited to share with people on here because i don’t get to share it with people irl. i don’t willingly tell people irl that i enjoy making elaborate plots about anime characters, and i have always been very excited to share that hobby with you all, whether you are a reader or writer. i’ve read fanfiction for a very long time before i ever decided to try my hand at writing it, and i would never want to knock other people down simply because they “surpassed” me. i enjoy finding writers to read from, especially those who write better than me, because they are where i draw the most inspiration and motivation from. the moots i look up to most are moots who are in my opinion, far stronger writers than me, and moots who i always firmly believe deserve much more reach than i do on their stories because they’re far more fleshed out and in-depth than anything i can produce. and i am proud of them !! and even those of you who feel you are stuck not getting as much reach as you would hope, i am proud also of all of you for picking up a google doc or pen and writing and trying, whether you choose to share it or not. i will always strongly encourage you all to try your hand at writing if you have ever considered it because i have genuinely built such a better sense of self-esteem when being able to incorporate pieces of myself in my stories and express parts of who i am—i think some of you might really enjoy the catharsis that writing brings, and if you ever debate on trying it out, please do !! you might become really passionate about it. 

anyway, this post is abysmally long. none of it is to clear my name in hopes that i will be “un-canceled” (LOL) because i have decided saetoru is long overdue to be put to rest. i hope you can all, at the very least, allow other writers some peace and stop harassing them in their inboxes for knowing me (because that is also bullying and very ironic of you), and i hope you all got some sort of understanding of where i am coming from. if you think poorly of me, that’s okay. i have an opinion of myself, and the close people who surround me, that i am confident in, and while i may not have always handled things in the brightest of manners, i am well aware of what my intentions have always been. 

i’m deeply grateful to all 41k of you, and thank you for reading my works and allowing me to write for you !! thank you for all the very, very kind asks that i never got a chance to fully answer each one of, and thank you especially for all the supportive comments and love on the writing i’ve posted. they might be silly fics you read once and moved on from, but they’re all pieces of me, my life, and things that are important to me, and as cringe and cheesy as it sounds, it means quite literally everything to me when people read them and take away something from them. 

also, as a parting gift, i will be posting the nerd gojo, ex-convict geto, and a marriage rb! gojo fic to my ao3 (also saetoru) for those of you who have been patiently awaiting those wips to enjoy. please (a little more patiently) keep your eyes peeled for those <3 i will no longer be posting or active on saetoru, and in the event that i keep writing, it will be posted on my ao3, so you all will know where to find me !!

so for the last time, i love you my little runts !! wishing you all the best, and goodbye to my lil saetoru bestees. 

mwah !!

— tee <3

ps. i also have turned off reblogs for this post and limited replies to people i follow only. a lot of you will jump to say that it’s simply because i am “hiding,” but it is solely because i have said my piece and i intend to move on. thank you and have a lovely day shawtee ✌🏽

[windser]

PLEASE write out that sylus work. The fandom beeds more spicy MCs and i can tell she would give him a run for his money

pairing: mc x sylus (soulmate!au) wc: 1.2k+

a/n: loooool here is just a bit of a teaser for how i imagined it all playing out. i highly doubt this is how mc and sylus will meet BUT its so fitting for how i image their dynamic playing out. but i really do want to wait for the official drop so I can confirm his characterization. [based on this post]

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

"he’s asking for me ?"

"he identified you by your mark."

your palm immediately goes to cover your wrist, blocking the neat scrawl from view. but it was little too late at this point.

you had never really taken care to hide your soulmate mark from the world. to bear it publicly was often a act of seeking from the individual, showing it proudly as if it might attract their pair sooner.

but for you, it was just as obscure seen or hidden, the mundaneness lining the words that felt like it would never truly have meaning.

‘you’re beautiful’

in your youth days, you thought it was the most romantic gesture to know that your fated person had such a high option of you at first glance. but the years tarnished that same phrase, after hearing it from too many loose lips with hollower intentions.

now it was just a first tattoo, fated second.

the slouch of your shoulder is nonchalant in gesture, though equally weighed down by the situation. “he probably just has intel on it. i’m too careless in the field if i can be identified so easily."

it was a crude bluff, a mere diversion from the pending truth. because yes, it was an indefinite, but only one individual in the world would ever need to find someone based on it.

besides this was the presumed leader of onichynus.

even considering the idea was a headache.

tara shuffles to the right at the sound of your name and you both look up to see jenna waiting, ready by the door.

her quiet nod feels like a direct pang to your temple.

right, a headache indeed.

࿓࿓༄༄࿓

though captured, albeit suspiciously easy, the operation did not come without effort. reportedly there were no casualties but it had been a battle enough in the end.

jenna warns you of as much as the two of you descend further into lower levels of the security facility. there weren’t many criminals who fit the eligibility to be locked behind maximum security. the hiss of the heavy steel doors partying to grant entry spoke volumes about the threshold needed to hold such a threat.

the leader of onichynus was an old tale but not the first. it never occurred to you until now what other individuals might be stored away here for the safety of linkon city.

“ma’am”

the hunter standing before the last sealed door saluted jenna with a stiff salute, the action drawing your attention to the smear of red against his palm.

a battle indeed.

jenna answers with a more tempered gesture, less precise with exhaustion.

“any changes?”

you’d been sent home early into the conclusion of the operation, leaving the higher ups to decide how to deal with the sour victory. it had been less than twelve hours since then and you doubted jenna spent a second of it resting.

the same could he said of the officer standing guard who looked like if he leaned against the wall for even a moment he would slump over.

“none.”

his gaze flicked briefly to you, then down. “is this...?”

it seemed that the leader of onichynus was very vocal with his demands. even without tara's penchant for information, it was now no wonder how everyone knew of your predicament.

you had taken care to clasp your arms behind your back but it seemed the damage was already done.

“the deal was confirmation enough, though at this point it’s all formality.” jenna is addressing you now. her lips turn as she observes the door as if she could see through it. perhaps feeling the aura was enough.

“this is late to mention but you don’t have to do this.”

tardy indeed given that she had already led you to the lion’s den. your face seems to display enough of that sentiment given her sigh.

“if this is true-“ if this man if truly your soulmate, goes unsaid. “then council will reassess the situation.”

the words taste asinine even when they don’t come from your mouth. it wasn’t as if your fate could twist their judgement. the man behind those doors has earned his sentence, it was too late to draw you into the equation.

besides, what would you even do with a criminal as a soulmate? this early in the game, you could cut your loses and actually prepare for a non-fated pairing.

what you did know was that nothing was going to change with one-half meeter of steel between you.

“well let’s see what’s behind door number three.”

jenna doesn’t comment on the joke, likely attributing it to nerves. but in truth, you were just as ready as everyone else to get this over with.

given you had not been present at the exact capture, the face of onichynus still a mystery to you. though this close, you couldn’t help but recall that feeling of the ominous gaze hanging over you. it was one of the few times you had placed the feeling out of your nightmares. the knowledge that it came from the individual fate had decided to pair you with may as well have been the jest of the century.

so yeah you want this over with so you could get the last laugh.

with Jenna’s assent, the officer clears the few steps needed to join his peers where after a short order, the final steel doors began to part.

jenna doesn’t move forward, so neither do you. though you can’t help the slight tense in your limbs as you prepare for ... what a fight or flight?

there was research, anecdotes and stories about the first gaze but you never really summed up what you thought your experience would be.

‘you’re beautiful’

you’d heard it so many times before. would it really be so different this time?

what you notice first is the bareness of the room, appearing as just that, an empty space. well not completely empty; for at its center was a man. one who someone took up every parameter while only being rooted in a single square.

UNICORNS holding measures were … questionable, leaving him in a simple chair with only what you imagined were handcuffs to keep him rooted. this man who nearly cleared an entire squadron. though you supposed an escape wouldn’t come easy for him.

him, who was not just a man, but the dangerous leader to an illegal organization chasing the aether core. a figure with ashen hair and vermillion eyes. a figure with ashen hair and vermillion eyes, likely deprived of rest since his capture, though he didn't give off the impression of losing any sleep over it. he also sported more than a few smudges of dark crimson, making him appear every bit as dangerous as his lore suggested.

you think you hear a sound of protest from jenna as you take a challenging step forward, but it falls on deaf ears as inquisitiveness wins out.

he certainly fit the bill of a criminal figure. yet as he sat there, chained to a simple chair, chest rising with each breath with that slight tilt of his lips. there was just something else that made it hard to believe that this could possibly be your soulmate, questionable choices aside.

the man seemed to take your silence as an invitation as he spoke first.

“you’re beautiful.”

and in that instance, all of the violence and ominousness bled away, leaving just a man tied to a chair with dark eyes looking up at you with expectation.

you don’t realize your lips are curling downward as your eyes flicker back to his hands which were pinned behind his back.

and with your next words you sealed your fate forever.

“sorry, I’m not into subs.”

[loversatthegreatdivide]

Heavy Lies the Heart - Chapter 3

Masterlist // Continue Reading

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC Word Count: 2.3k Tropes: mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, royalty Warnings: death Summary: When two second-borns looking for direction meet by chance, can they find purpose in each other? Or will circumstance keep them apart? A/N: CanNOT believe I'm updating a third time in as many days. This whole chapter is just dialog. All 2,300 words of it. I am deceased. I love writing dialog, but there is a limit. Also, tumblr is held together with old gum and scotch tape, so currently I can't reply to comments on posts. Until they fix it just know I do see them all, even though I can't respond at the moment. For now, if you want a direct response you'll need to send an ask!

Benedict was quite certain he must be dreaming.

He stood outside his home, in the low light of evening, with the girl he had been searching for.

She had come to him all on her own; and now he knew her name.

Beatrice.

"A lovely name indeed," he praised, "But it would perhaps be more proper for me to address you by your surname." Even Benedict, with his distaste for the rigid etiquette of the aristocracy, would feel a certain level of unease referring to a young lady of rank by her given name.

Beatrice looked back at him nervously, "No no, I think Beatrice will do just fine."

"You do have a surname?" Benedict joked.

"Naturally," she lied. While her full name was rather long, it did not include a surname. As was the case with all members of the royal family.

Benedict raised a brow curiously, "It would seem you do not wish to tell me."

"Well...no, I would rather not."

"How intriguing; why ever not? Is your family embroiled in some sort of scandal?" he asked.

"It is nothing like that," she replied, her eyes moving to avoid his gaze, "It is only...well, truthfully I fear once you learn of my lineage, obligation will keep you from speaking honestly with me."

Beatrice knew she was dancing close to the edge. While she had not directly told Benedict her true identity, the more he knew, the more likely he was to put the pieces together. All but telling him her family was of a high rank was a risk, but she wanted to be as honest as she could be with him. She did not enjoy the thought of deceiving him any more than was absolutely necessary.

There was a small smile on his face as he examined her worried expression. He could see this was quite important to her, so decided to leave it be.

"My, your family must be quite important," he commented, "But I shall ask no more. I believe we are all entitled to a secret or two--and of course, I would also enjoy continuing to speak freely with one another." He smiled reassuringly at her as she stared back in surprise, "Beatrice it is."

She felt her face flush at the sound of her name. While it had been at her insistence, it still felt strange to be addressed so casually by anyone outside of her family.

"Thank you," Beatrice replied with a grateful smile.

"However, there is a condition," Benedict continued, "If I am to address you by your given name, I must insist you address me by mine."

"Oh." Beatrice hadn't considered it, but then again it did seem only fair, "I suppose that would be alright...Benedict."

She knew her cheeks were red, but she took some comfort in the fact that he seemed similarly effected.

He looked away, attempting to regain his composure, "Good. Yes, alright then," he cleared his throat, "Now that we've gotten all of that settled, perhaps you would do me the pleasure of an evening promenade?"

He seemed apprehensive, perhaps worried she would decline; Beatrice found it rather endearing.

"That sounds lovely," she answered. He looked back at her, clearly relieved by her answer, "Oh, but before we go," she pointed to his cheek, "you have a bit of charcoal on you face, just there." Benedict's hand instantly flew to to his face.

"How humiliating! And you said nothing as I stood here looking like a chimney sweep?" he joked through his embarrassment.

Beatrice laughed, "Well, there never seemed to be a good time to tell you--and if your were secretly in the business of cleaning chimneys, I would certainly have hated to embarrass you by pointing it out."

"Well then perhaps I should be thanking you for your discretion," he smirked, his hand moving to wipe his face in an attempt to remove the dust.

"No no, don't do that! You'll only smudge it more," she said, batting at the air near his arm in protest. He stopped, lowering his hand as instructed. "Here, allow me."

She lifted her arm, her free hand grabbing the reticle around her wrist. She adjusted it until she was able to reach inside, pulling out a handkerchief. It was lovely: Pure white, with intricate floral embroidery and a lace trim. She raised the handkerchief towards his face, and he instinctively leaned back.

"No ah, well, that is..." he sputtered, "You'll ruin your handkerchief," he finally managed to say.

In truth he was simply startled by her sudden action. She had been so casual in reaching out to touch him, as if it hadn't occurred to her how it might look. Benedict found himself once again surprised by her. So often she seemed to try to conform to the expectations of society, even when it clearly caused her discomfort. Then she would do something like this, and she hardly seemed to care what others might think of it.

"It is only a handkerchief, it can be cleaned you know," she replied, her hand moving once more. Benedict didn't shy away this time, and soon felt the soft fabric rest against his skin. His heart began to race at the simple gesture.

He suddenly found himself unable to look her in the eye.

Beatrice was gentle as she began wiping the charcoal away, seeming completely unaffected by the action or his reaction to it. It lasted only a few moments, but to Benedict it seemed far longer.

"There, much better," she said, removing her hand and smiling at her work. Benedict blushed.

"Yes, thank you," he replied nervously.

"It was no trouble," she assured him, moving to place the handkerchief, now stained with black, back inside her reticle, "Though, I believe I can offer little help for your gloves."

Benedict looked down, his white gloves covered with splotchy, black fingerprints. His hands must have been covered in charcoal when he left his room, and he simply hadn't noticed.

Had he truly been so distracted?

"Forgive me, I am truly a mess this evening."

"Not at all," she replied, before grinning, "It seems you were dealing with quite the begrimed chimney."

He smiled gratefully, "Surely they must keep their fire going year round, to build up such an impressive level of soot."

With that, he offered her his arm.

"Now that you will feel marginally less mortified to be seen with me, perhaps we can be off?" She smiled shyly, pulling at the edge of her hood.

"Yes, I would like that," she answered, her hand moving to entwine her arm with his. They set off down the street, strolling to nowhere in particular at a leisurely pace.

"So," Beatrice was the first to speak, "You are an artist then?"

"And what makes you say so? There could be any number of reasons for a man to have charcoal on his hands...and his face," Benedict quipped.

Beatrice smiled, "No, I believe I am right. You certainly behave like one passionate about the arts."

"Oh? And how is it I behave exactly?"

"Well, my grandmother would say you are rather...bohemian," Beatrice replied.

"Bohemian? And I suppose your grandmother would not mean that to be complimentary?" Benedict asked.

"Indeed she would not," Beatrice laughed, "Though as a rule she is simply not one for compliments. She is, above all things, proper, and can be rather terse at times."

Benedict nodded in understanding, "Ah yes. I have only a few childhood memories of my own grandmother, but she seemed much the same."

"Please don't misunderstand--I am actually quite fond of her," Beatrice corrected, "She is simply not an overly affectionate person."

"I see. So do you spend much time with your grandmother then?" he asked.

"As much as I am able, though my father is quite strict and doesn't like me away from home for too long. I am quite lucky he allowed me to stay with her for the season," she replied.

"Ah, an overbearing father. That makes sense," he commented, smirking at her as she pouted at him.

"Oh? And what about you? I can't imagine your parents restricted you much, given your proclivity for breaking with societal expectations."

Benedict laughed, "This from the girl who has clearly left home without permission to meet a man unchaperoned." She blushed in surprise, turning her face away.

"Well, that is..." She struggled to find a believable justification for her actions.

"Not that I judge you. If anything I'm glad you decided to break a few rules," he smiled as she continued avoiding his gaze, "And for what it's worth, you are correct; I am guilty of being raised by kind, loving parents who supported my interest in the arts and allowed me plenty of freedom."

"I knew it." Beatrice turned back, smirking at him triumphantly, "About you upbringing and being an artist, it would seem."

Benedict laughed, "Oh please, do congratulation yourself more."

"Perhaps I will," she joked.

Soon, her face fell into a thoughtful smile, "You're parents, did they love each other?"

That seemed an interesting turn in conversation.

Benedict nodded, "Yes, from what I remember they were quite mad for one another. My mother talks about it often, particularly mow that so many of her children have come of age. She is constantly encouraging us to find love matches for ourselves."

"You're all lucky to have such a caring mother. Not many would prioritize their children's happiness over their obligation to secure a good match," Beatrice replied.

"You're right, we have been very fortunate," Benedict smiled affectionately, "And so far my mother has gotten her wish: Both my brother and my sister have found love matches for themselves, though it is less certain that the rest of my siblings will follow suite."

"And you?" Beatrice asked without thinking.

"Me?" Benedict repeated, "Well, I'm not sure I shall ever marry."

In spite of herself, Beatrice could not help but look somewhat disappointed, "Oh, I see."

"Though," he continued, "I suppose love may be the one thing to entice me into such an arrangement, should I ever find it."

He couldn't help noticing how the corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly as he spoke.

"And what of you? Are you hoping to marry for love?" It was little business of his, but he had to admit he was more curious about her answer than he aught to have been.

"I," she hesitated, her head falling as her gaze fell to the ground, "I would certainly like to, but I'm afraid it's rather unlikely. At best, I can hope my future husband is someone I don't utterly dislike."

"Ah, right--you mentioned your father was strict. Will he be choosing for you?" Benedict asked sympathetically.

"Yes," she confirmed, trying to hold fast to her smile, "My mother and father's marriage was arranged, and now the two despise each other. I suppose so long as my marriage is at all better than theirs I can count myself lucky."

"That must have been a difficult way to grow up," he commented, not know what else he could say.

"I suppose, though it could have been worse. My mother hasn't lived with us since before I was born. When they are forced to around one another, it is an unpleasant affair for all involved; so perhaps it's for the best."

"That's...quite an unusual situation," Benedict noted.

"Perhaps it is, but it is mine," she replied, glancing up at him, "But now it is I who has made you uncomfortable. Perhaps we should move to a lighter subject?"

"Of course," Benedict agreed.l

He wanted to comfort her in some way, but he wasn't sure how he could. He certainly had no idea what it was like to grow up the way she had, or what it was to know that inevitably your future would be chosen for you. There had been a certain level of expectation placed on him as the second son, but he still enjoyed immense freedom. He felt any attempt at comfort may come off as disingenuous, or perhaps even patronizing. He wanted her to know he was sincere.

"Are you attending the next ball?" she asked him after a long moment of walking in silence.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. This is my sister Francesca's first year out, and the second year for my sister Eloise. My brothers and I typically accompany our mother to help keep an eye on them."

"What thoughtful brothers you are," she replied, her tone somewhat teasing.

"Well yes, I suppose we are rather good brothers--the best, even. Our sisters are quite lucky to have such devoted elder brothers looking out for them," Benedict joked back. Beatrice smiled at that, turning her head so he wouldn't see.

Benedict cleared his throat, "Will you also be attending?" he asked as casually as he was able.

It was unlike him, but even the chance he may be able to dance with her was enough to entice him into attending every event for the rest of the season.

"I believe so," she answered.

"So we will see each other again soon?" He asked, hope clear in his voice.

"Yes, though..." she looked up at him nervously, "before that, perhaps I might visit you again?"

"You mean sneak out and see me at Bridgerton House?" She nodded in response, "Hmm...you're not going to throw more rocks at me, are you?"

Beatrice laughed, "I won't so long as you're paying attention."

"Well then, how could I say no?" He smirked.m, and she smiled back at him shyly.

At that moment, they stopped. Benedict looked around, surprised to see it had gotten quite dark. He realized they had walked farther than he had intended to go.

"As much as I loathe to suggest it, perhaps we should be heading back?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Of course," Beatrice agreed, "Though, I believe I am closer to home here than back the other way."

"Well then, allow me to walk you home," he offered.

"No!" she answered quickly, "Thank you, but I am quite alright getting back on my own."

He nodded, "Ah yes of course--your secret. Well, so long as you're certain you'll be alright alone?"

"I will," she looked away, looking pleased, "Thank you for understanding."

She unwound her arm from his, "Well, I suppose I should be off, it was truly a pleasure to see you again, Benedict."

He smiled, reaching forward, grabbing her hand and holding it in his.

"The pleasure was all mine, Beatrice," he replied, kissing the back of her gloved hand gently. She felt her cheeks burn. He released her from his grip, and Beatrice held her freed hand tightly against her chest.

"Yes, well...I'll be going then," she replied, quickly turning and making her way down the lamplit street. She glanced back only once, and he lifted his hand to give her a small wave.

Benedict continued watching her until her silhouette finally disappeared into the night.

----------

Tags: @empressnatsume @sarahskywalker-amidala @may-and-lay @lovelyxjanett @asterizee @g4ns3y

[subwaysurf45]

Going Out and Coming In

Summary: having you come out to the club was always a treat in Bucky’s eyes, you were never one to party like the rest of them. With all the alcohol and music bumping through your viens it’s hard to keep your hands off of Bucky, and he knows it too. 

Pairing: College!Bucky x College!Reader

Words: 5k

Warnings: SMUT: edgining, denial, oral (m4f), praise kink. Alcohol, drunk reader, the tiniest amount of peer pressure, fluff anf fun!

Masterlist

You: Hey just got out of class, want me to grab a coffee for you? 

Bucky: E-Transfer: $10

Bucky: Sure, just that coffee you got me last time, forget the name of it but it was really good!

You: are we going to pass over the E-Transfer like it didn’t happen?

Bucky: Yes

Bucky: No questions. Just coffee. 

After reading the texts you just stood in line with the feeling of a blush creeping on your face, you accepted the money and had it ready when you walked up to the cash. It was a nice coffee shop you went to all the time and had recently introduced to your no-label-but-you’re-very-exclusive-friend-who-is-also-a-boy. He wanted to meet you between classes for an hour so you sent him the address, he was there when you showed up and kept looking around the small coffee shop, a smile staying on his face. That felt like forever ago, now you went on a coffee run whenever you were heading over to his place after classes. 

“Hi, can I get two vanilla lattes?” you asked and the barista nodded. You paid and waited off to the side, sending a text to Bucky to let him know you were coming over soon. 

He sent a winky face as a response, you cleared it away and saw your lock screen. Bucky asked if you wanted to see his family after a while of hanging out, it was around eight months into the labelless relationship and his mom was asking about who he posted on his Instagram. You went with him back home and met everyone, one night the entire family went out for dinner. His mom had taken out her phone and asked you two to pose, Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulders, you leaned into his hold and placed a hand on his chest for support. When the countdown hit one Bucky leaned over and kissed your cheek, leaving the photo to capture your surprised face. He had kept that as his lock screen forever, even now after two and half years. 

Both drinks were ready, you walked off of campus and to the apartment buildings that you both lived in. you didn’t live together but you both lived in the same building but on different floors, it was really nice to be able to walk up a few staircases to give him a goodnight kiss. Speaking of stairs, when you reached level eight- the elevator was broken -you were basically sweating. 

With your foot you kicked the door, Bucky opened it with a smile on his face. He could tell you were out of breath from walking up all those stairs but chose not to comment on it, he just giggled to himself and let you walk all the way in. 

“Hey, Baby,” he hugged you once the coffees were put down, “thanks for the coffee.” 

“It was your money,” you laughed in his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. 

“Whatever,” he whispered. After taking a few sips he followed you into his room, Sam and Steve were both at class but they’d be back in time to hit the club. “Do you need to study?” He asked over his shoulder as he fell back onto his bed, you nodded and assumed a spot as his desk. 

Early on in your relationship you had been open about your small issue with being too attached to your grades, Bucky thought nothing of it until exam season rolled around and you were up very late studying every day. You had lied once and said you were heading home, Bucky trusted his gut and went to the library to find you curled up in a blanket, looking like you were going to stay there for a long time. 

Even when you two would hang out between classes you’d still get your studying in somehow, Bucky had to learn to accept it or else you wouldn’t be present because you’d be thinking of everything you were missing out on. 

When everything you needed to get done was done you crawled onto his navy sheets and curled on his chest, Bucky wrapped his arms around you and held you close. He had noticed you had been down the past few days, there were assignments getting in the way of your relationship and you tried your best to balance but it was hard, all you ever knew was focus on your school and nothing else. 

“I think tonight is going to be good for you,” Bucky whispered as he planted a kiss on your head, “seeing your friends, getting a few drinks in you, being outside of your dorm and all that,” Bucky rubbed your back, “the guys miss you, Nat misses you a lot.”

“I know,” you sighed. 

“And that’s not to make you feel guilty,” he reached over and drank his coffee, “it’s to remind you that you’ve got people in your corner who love you and care about you more than your grades, alright?” 

“Alright,” you looked up at him and kissed his jaw line, his lips were too far away. 

Getting ready together was alway something you looked forward to, you would hog the bathroom while you did your makeup and Bucky would have to lean over you to add the product to his hair. The music would be playing from the speaker and the both of you would dance around one another. 

Your dress was black, one you had worn before. You had added a bit of volume to your hair and did a little more than your normal makeup routine. Bucky was sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone while you did the final touches. You sprayed your setting spray that you were convinced was just water and tapped a little more lip gloss on your lips. 

“I’m ready!” you sang, walked out into the main room. You thought Bucky was just going to be there but Sam and Steve were there as well, pregaming. “Oh,” you laughed, “I didn’t hear you guys come in.” 

“We’re spies,” Natasha came from behind you and hugged you, making you turn around and hug her properly. With a smile you squeezed her tightly, you hadn’t seen her in a while and it was so nice to hug her.

“The uber is going to be here in five,” Sam said as he poured another shot, “want one?” he tipped the top of the bottle towards you. 

“Sure,” you nodded, looking over to see Bucky walk over. 

Alcohol was always weird for you, it’s not that you were a complete lightweight but compared to Bucky you were. Weed on the other hand sat better with your system but you couldn’t smoke in the club, you were also out of gummies. If you were at a house party that was way more casual you’d break out a joint or find someone with a bowl you could use, but clubs were much different. 

Natasha set up her camera, it was a tradition to record the first group shot. You stood beside Bucky as his hand reached around to hold your waist, immediately feeling warm. Everyone counted down and took back the shot, it burned for a second before swallowing. You never understood why people try to keep from making a face, everyone knew vodka tasted awful and you let it show. 

Everyone laughed and you hid your face in Bucky’s chest, trying not to completely embarrass yourself in front of Natasha’s story due to your pure disgust towards the taste. Bucky laughed and rubbed your back, “how’re you feeling?” he giggled in your ear and laughed as you looked up at him, “the first one is the hardest.” 

“I know,” you sighed, “I just want my drink and not shots.”

“It’s a shots night, baby!” Natasha cheered and headed to the door, the car was here. 

The drive was quick, you could walk but it was too cold for the dresses you and Natasha were wearing. You had been to this club before many times, it’s not like you had never been to a single party before but for every three times Bucky goes out, you go out once. You definitely were a homebody. 

You could hear the club before you were inside, the base making the neon lights flicker from how old they were. You were there at the perfect time, allowing you to get in free. Once you had squeezed through the door you quickly turned around and grabbed Bucky’s hand, holding it tightly as you moved through the dancefloor to try and find a spot to hunker down for the night. 

It was loud and people were already sweating alcohol, there was no care that there was a group trying to squeeze through, people were throwing their arms around and trying to make a mosh pit which was something you would never take part in - no matter how drunk you were. 

Once you found an area you all squished in the booth, Steve didn’t sit down and took everyone’s drink order. You needed to get tipsy before getting on the floor and that shot was starting to buzz, you were sitting on Bucky’s thigh as you looked around to see everyone dancing. 

Sam went out and found his date, you hadn’t seen her before but then again, most of Sam’s dates are like single use plastic to him. She was tall with extremely tanned skin, when she waved you knew right away it was fake tan, she hadn’t rubbed it in properly on her hands. 

Wanting to tell Bucky you looked over your shoulder to find him already looking at you, letting his chin rest on your shoulder blade. He smiled at you and kissed your cheek, “I’m serious if you get too overwhelmed, you have to tell me.” 

You looked around to see no one was paying attention to you two, “I know but I don’t want to be babied, I don’t want you asking every five seconds or I'll just get annoyed, okay?” Bucky nodded quickly, silently saying duh. “You know my tell-tale signs.” 

“I do,” he kissed your cheek again, “and I’ll only get overprotective if I see a guy look below your waist or if you squeeze my hand three times.” He nodded with you before turning back to Steve and taking his drink, you took yours as well and began to drink right away. 

“So, Sammy,” you cleared your throat, “how many times have you taken in the fact that you two share the same name?” you asked the girl who sat beside Sam. 

“My name is actually Samantha,” she laughed, “but I’ve definitely thought about it.” Everyone laughed, “no one really calls me that, only Sammy.” 

“I’ll make sure to call you that then,” you smiled and held out your drink, clinking the plastic with hers. 

Everyone took their turn going to get drinks before you all migrated to the dance floor, dancing around and singing to the popular songs. The great thing about going out with everyone was how they got along on the dance floor, there was no shoving or grabbing, just making eye contact with someone and doing the same stupid dance move until you both doubled over in laughter. 

You, Natasha, and Sammy created your own group and found your way to the bar, drunkenly ordering and doing shots to Nat’s request. She recorded some but kept ordering them, Sammy had no issue throwing them back. They laughed when you pucker your lips to try and fight the burn, the chaser did nothing at all. 

“Let’s head back!” Natasha yelled over the music, you had felt pretty good up until then. The moment you pushed off the bar and began to walk the shots hit you like a wave, you stumbled for a moment and grabbed Natasha’s elbow and followed her back. 

Through the sea of people you saw Bucky laughing with his friends, holding his beer and jumping around. The lights and the thin layer of sweat made him look amazing, his smile flashed as the strobe lights passed his face. You could feel his charm from across the floor, it was why you fell in love with him. The closer you got the harder you bit your lip, feeling your need to be near him grow stronger. 

Who knew what alcohol made you feel like this but from the way he was looking, you could pull him to a bathroom stall right now and get down on both knees without question, there was something about him in that particular moment that made you swoon. 

The boys were still dancing, you quickly found Bucky and took hold of both his wrists. His eyes searched your face but before he could ask if you were okay you leaned up and kissed him. When you pulled away you kept his bottom lip wedged between your teeth, he jolted back with an ‘ow’ and reached up to touch his lip, a bit of blood was on his finger. 

You giggled and wrapped yourself around his neck, tucking your face in his sweet spot and licking a stripe before starting to suck, his large hands gripped your waist before pushing you back slightly. 

“What did you drink up there?” he said with a smirk, you could tell he was loving this. 

“A fucking love potion I guess,” you said out of breath, “because I could literally mount you right now back at the booth and fuck your brains out,” you went back to his neck and left another start of a bruise 

When you pulled back Bucky was looking up at the ceiling, everyone else had no idea what was going on and just thought you were being clingy. His nostrils were flared as he tried to calm himself, you were giggling and fiddling with his shirt collar. 

“I should get drunk more often because I’m fucking loving it and I’m loving the moment right now,” you laughed and Bucky kissed your forehead.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” he laughed and pulled you in for a hug, “but you being this horny is going to be the death of me, you know I can’t control myself, baby,” he whispered in your ear, feeling his hot breath rush down your neck your grip his biceps harder, nails digging into his skin. 

Suddenly you were deep in the dance floor, jumping around and singing to the songs as loud as you could. Most of the time you and Bucky were in your own world, touching each other all the time as you danced. But other times a circle was formed and you all watched one another dance, holding hands and blending in with the other groups. The drinks were starting to wear off from all the physical activity so you all headed to the bar again, shooting back a few more shots even though deep down you wanted to sip a drink but that wasn’t practical for what you were doing on the floor. 

“One more!” They cheered towards the bartender. 

“One less for me!” you called out and he nodded, pouring everyone a shot except for you. 

“Come on, y/n!” Nat laughed, “it’s only one more, I wanted to take a video this time.” 

“Let me record it,” you held your hand out but quickly finding Bucky’s forearm for balance, the sudden movements after the shots made you realize just how many you actually had, again. In another world you could take another, but right now you were fully at your limit and honestly a little above it. 

“No!” Sammy chimed in now, “one last group shot.” 

“No guys,” you shook your head and immediately placed your other hand on Bucky’s forearm, your heels were not helping with your lack of balance. They attempted to cheer you until you squeezed Bucky’s hand three times. 

“She said no, alright?” it was almost like he hadn’t drank all night, but he definitely did. “So she’ll record and we all drink,” he looked down at you and kissed your forehead for what seemed like the millionth time tonight. 

You held the phone out as they all shot one back, after swallowing first Bucky reached out and took the phone, flipping it around so you could wave as well. With the amount of drinks flowing in everyone’s system they all forgot about what just happened and headed back in, Bucky waited for a moment before turning to you. 

His eyes were hooded and it was cute to see him fight towards sobriety in case you needed him, “can I ask if you’re okay?” he smiled and leaded forward and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“I’m okay, thank you for that,” you kissed his cheek and took his hand as he helped you walk back towards the group. 

Midnight had come and gone but the party kept moving, it seemed to only get more packed as the time went on. You had drank some water a while ago and was in a perfect spot while everyone else got more and more drunk. Bucky was the second to switch to water, he was gone but had enough in him to string a sentence together. 

“I could not operate a motorized vehicle right now,” Sam said to you at one point, completely unprompted. You laughed and nodded along, looking at Bucky as he laughed too. 

The songs got progressively more sexual as well, there was nothing better than looking at the girls when a song came on and you all screamed, feeling extremely confident as you screamed the words in front of the boys who were dumbfounded. 

One came on where you immediately looked at Bucky and finger wagged him closer, feeling how you felt at the beginning of the night when the lights looked so perfect on him. The attraction was coming back and it didn’t help that this was your favourite club song. He knew what was coming as he came closer to you, roughly grabbing at your hips and feeling around. Everyone else screamed, never seeing this side of you that often. 

Bucky flipped you around so you were facing the group, letting his hands wander to your front and rest low on your stomach. Your head leaned back against his shoulder and one hand moved up to touch his neck, your ass was pressed against his hips. His face showed no signs of embarrassment for being hard. 

You sang the song to his ear, looking up at him. Natasha started recording but Bucky quickly swatted the phone away, not wanting it to be recorded for your sake but also because he wanted to be in the moment. 

When it ended you kissed him and bit his bottom lip again, hearing him groan as he squeezed your ass again because you turned around to kiss him properly. Again, due to the alcohol the group forgot it happened quickly as they moved on to the next thing that caught their attention. 

Bucky leaned down to your ear again, “baby,” he was close to a moan, “you’re so fuck sexy, like, you have no idea what you do to me- drinks or not.” the two of you made out for a while, not caring who was looking at you both. Your hands tugged at his hair and his hands went almost everywhere, if you weren’t tired when you got home you knew you were getting a great night of sex. 

Soon enough the lights flicked on and the music died down, you all managed to get out of the club but had to walk home. Bucky had two water bottles in his hand as he caught up to you all later, claiming it was all they had left. 

Everyone was in the same boat, extremely drunk and walking home. Your hand was held tightly with Bucky’s, “you know…” you giggled and looked up at him, “my apartment is closer, you don’t need to climb all those flights of stairs. 

“Sounds good to me,” he was thinking you were just inviting him over, actually thinking the only reason you wanted him over was because it was three staircases closer. 

“And…” you took a long sip of water, “my roommate is out of town so…we can be loud, y’know?” 

His pupils expanded faster than ever before, “oh?” he muttered and rubbed his nose against your ear, “you know, you’ve been a big tease all night, I don’t know if you’re all bark and no bite.” 

You shifted and walked backwards, “from what I remember I bit you a lot,” your bottom lip was wedged between your teeth, knowing you were just riling him up. 

The moment you turned into your apartment complex Bucky turned to the group, “I’m going to y/n’s apartment,” he announced and the group began to laugh, “just let me know if you can hear us from three levels up.” 

“Bucky!” you slapped his chest but before you could say anything Bucky turned out of the stairwell and onto your floor, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. “You need my keys,” you laughed as he fished them out of his pocket because you didn’t want to bring a purse. 

When your back hit the mattress he was quick to crawl over you, putting all his weight on you as he slotted himself between your legs, making your dress ride up. His lips were quick to move away from your lips and down to your neck, sucking a biting all around. You two had been together long enough to know where each other’s spots were and what you both liked, Bucky could always get you going right above your collarbone and used it to his advantage. 

Your back arched as he lifted the dress up and over your head, going back in between your breasts and shaking his head around, making you laugh and play with his air. Your bra was off next and Bucky was still fully dressed, the stark difference in modesty made you want to cover up but Bucky’s hand pinning your wrists back with force couldn’t let you do that. 

Bucky kissed all the way down before hooking his fingers and pulling down your underwear, kissing back up your knees and thighs to keep you waiting. When it came to Bucky eating you out it was all about teasing, he knew how to make cum in ten seconds if he hit the spots you liked, but he wanted to make a game out of it; he always did. 

He kissed, licked, sucked, bit, everything, he did everything to your pussy. Your hands would move from playing with your nipples to add extra stimulation to gripping his hair, your entire body was restless until his arms hooked around your hips and his hands clasped on your stomach to keep you from moving. 

Even after many years, “a little to your left,” you were still helping each other out, “holy fuck, yes Bucky,” you sighed, “right there, fuck, right there please don’t stop, please,” you begged and begged even when he slowed down and pulled away for a moment, causing you to groaned and looked down at him. 

When you were done whining he went back in, “you like when I tease you?” 

“I never have,” you laughed as he bumped his nose against your clit.

“I know,” he giggled and went back in, lapping his tongue against your clit and then wrapping his lips around to suck gently, your moans became louder and more frequent so he backed off again. You were so frustrated you tugged his hair hard, “ow!” he laughed as he looked up at you, “that actually hurt.” 

“Please, Bucky, please,” you gripped your breasts harshly, “I’m fucking beginning you, I feel so good right now, baby, so fucking good, just make me come,” you looked down to see a smirk on his face, “you have no- oh yes!” you dropped your head back against the pillow and closed your eyes, your mouth falling open instantly. 

Bucky got into it as well, making out with your pussy and moaning to himself. He got pleasure out of getting you there, especially when you begged for it. 

“There you go, pretty, fall apart,” he kept you so close for so long, “I know you want to let it out, you deserve it,” his voice sent vibrations up your spine and to your head which make it fuzzy, “pretty girl just needs to be worshiped, huh?” his hands broke out from the clasp and two fingers found your entrance so he could talk, “who’s my pretty girl?” 

“Me,” you said in a heartbeat.

“Yeah you are,” he pushed in and out, making you grip his finger as tight as possible, “who’s my smart girl?” 

“Me,” it was more strained, you were so close but he was holding back just enough to keep you right on the tipping point. 

“Who deserves the world, huh?” he sucked your inner thigh to leave a mark he’d definitely looked back at later. “Don’t quit on me know, pretty, who deserved everything, my smart girl, my pretty girl?” 

“B-Bucky-!” you wanted to tell him you were so unbelievably close, your pussy gripping him as tight as possible, you could barely form a sentence let alone answer his question. 

“No no no,” he laughed and gently placed one kiss on your clit, making you convulse as his finger kept working you there, “it’s not me, baby, who is it?” 

The pressure was almost unbelievable, tears formed in your eyes from how long you had been edged and denied. You could feel the pulse begin and your stomach clench, the coil was about to snap. “M-me, holy fuck, yes!” you screamed. 

“And who deserves to come?” he asked but before you could answer his lips attached to your clit for the final time and made you see white, you let out the most pornographic moan you had ever heard, it almost didn’t sound like you. You could barely hear it from how loud you were screaming Bucky’s name but you heard him groan as you came, making your orgasm that much more intense. 

Bucky kept going to bring you down from your high, he slowed down as your entire body convulsed. Your moans were short as you tried to push his head away but at the same time you wanted to stay in your euphoric state forever. His kisses slowed until he planned the final one before gently working his way up your body and back to your lips, your eyes were closed and tears from overstimulation fell back to your pillow. 

Bucky gently held you tight as you continued to let out the shocks, wrapping your arms around him as he whispered more praises into your ear. 

“Bucky,” you sighed, “I need a bit before we keep going,” you wiped your forehead with the back of your wrist, “I can’t feel my legs.” 

“All good baby,” he kissed your cheek, “we don’t need to do anymore,” he laughed, “you made me cum,” he whispered and kissed your earlobe. 

“What?” you whispered, you couldn’t tell if he was still hard because he was still fully clothed; his socks were still on. 

“I told you getting you off gets me off, baby,” he was out of breath, “that was crazy, you- wow,” he sighed and kissed you again, you could taste yourself on his lips but that didn’t stop you from slipping your tongue into his mouth. 

“I didn’t know I had that power,” you tugged on the bottom of his shirt so he could get undressed, once he was down to his boxers he quickly left to get a rag. 

“The power you have over me…” Bucky shook his head to himself as he smiled, gently wiping between your legs and your tights, “...you have no fucking idea,” he looked over at you with a wide smile. 

You were blissed out, both arms thrown over your head and your eyes were closed. The alcohol, fresh orgasm, and the love from Bucky made you feel like the only girl in the world. You were so content in the moment you didn’t want to leave it. 

Once Bucky got in bed he pulled you close, tangling every limb with you and letting you rest your head on his chest. He played with your hair for a while, twisting one strand around his finger as you listened to his heart beat. 

“Did you have a fun night?” He asked gently, checking to see if you were awake. 

All you could do was nod and let out a happy sound, “I hate shots.” 

Bucky tried to conceal his laugh to keep you on the road to sleep, holding you tighter, “you’re adorable,” he whispered, “but I’m glad you had a good night, I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

You hummed and curled further into him, letting the warmth swiftly put you to sleep. You could still feel him rub your back or play with your hair, sending tingles down your entire body. The hangover in the morning was going to be one hell of a headache but in this moment you were happy right where you were. 

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wc | 1.6k

cw | infidelity, couch sex, age gap, unprotected sex, low key exhibitionism

Pool boy! Armin x MILF! Reader

A/N | Hey yall, this is lowkey shit but I just wanted to post something. I hope y'all had a happy new years, and as always, I hope y'all enjoy. Not edited.

A friend of a friend told him about the job, saying that you and your husband needed a new pool boy because the last one graduated. He was a broke college student in need of money for the summer. It didn’t take long for numbers to be exchanged and him calling you later that day. You picked up the phone with a polite hello and asked him who he was and what he needed. He said he wanted to apply for the position of pool maintenance. He was surprised at how quickly you said yes, wide eyes as you gave him the address and time you wanted him to come by tomorrow. He hung up with a quick thank you and practically jumped out of his chair. He had never gotten a job that effortless before, he just figured that you had gotten pretty desperate for someone to fill in the empty spot.

And he was half right.

But what he didn’t know was that the friend of a friend he talked to, his mother was friends with you, and as soon as she saw a picture of him she wasted no time to show you how cute your next plaything is. You’ve started to get restless since your last boytoy went on and left, and were itching to find another one to entertain you for the summer. Some might call it indecent, shameful, or even obscene; but you didn’t care. Your stupid, simple husband didn’t bat an eyelash about how you felt when he started sleeping with other, younger woman once he decided you weren’t worth his time anymore, so why should you care about his feelings? You loved the risky thrill that rushed through your veins at the thought of being caught fucking the pool boy.

 Was it wrong? Very much so. Did it make you want to do it that much more? Of course.

His first day went by smoothly, you greeted him with a hug and a kiss to the cheek as you showed him where he would be working and where the tools he needed were stored. He took note of your affectionate nature. He also noted the way your flowy sundress still managed to show off your curves, staring at your ass as you walk in front of him. He almost started making up excuses for you to stay in his presence longer, but you left before he could say another word. “You can just leave when you’re done. Feel free to come in whenever you need anything to eat or drink, kay’ sweetie?” You turn and walk away with a smile on your face as you feel his gaze burn into your backside in hunger. 

He came over once a week at first, but then your two boys started to warm up to him, asking him to come over more often to play football and play video games with them. He chuckled shyly and told them that they had to ask you first. You immediately said yes, ecstatic for having a reason to have him around the house more. He got comfortable being there, just like the last one, and you knew it was almost time to sink your teeth into him. 

You hadn’t failed to notice the way he ogled at you when you weren’t looking, you also hadn’t failed to notice how he would always find a way to touch you. You waist, shoulders, hips, anything he could get really. You wanted to laugh at the way he so blatantly made it clear that he would fuck you without a second to spare if you let him. You honestly didn’t expect how easy it would be to get him in your grasp. He virtually fell into your lap, simply waiting until you gave him the go-ahead to pound you into your mattress. 

It was another sweaty, humid day, and your kids were with their father who took them to some baseball game you could care less about. The only thing on your mind was getting Armin in your bed. He came over to drop off some extra fruit his mom had given him, a thing that he had started frequently doing. You thank with a warm smile as you set the basket of fresh cherries down as you welcome him in. 

Someway somehow, you persuade him to stay for a glass of wine. Conversation starts simple, talks of what he gets up to with his friends and such. Then he tests the water, asking how you met your husband. You’ve gotten drunk enough to the point where you don’t  have a filter anymore, and you tell him all of it. “It was a marriage of convenience, I met him when I was about your age, then he got me pregnant. Back then, if you got someone knocked up, you married them so that the kid wasn’t born out of wedlock. It’s such a stupid thing, and I only did it so that my father wouldn’t cut me out of his will,” you laugh, and he hangs onto your every word. “I only did it so that I have money to live on once I get a divorce.” You slur out, relaxing into the couch. “You’re gonna divorce him? From the outside, y’all look like the perfect couple.” You scoff at his statement, moving closer to him. His eyes drop down to your lips, then go back up to lock with yours. “Please, he’s been cheating on me for years, and the funny part about it is that he thinks he’s so slick with it. Add insult to injury, he’s basically a man child. He can’t cook for shit, he doesn’t clean up for shit – even though he makes the biggest mess, and he’s just a fucking idiot in general. I can’t stand him, and he’s not good in bed either!” You sigh in exasperation, and he chuckles as you finish ranting.

“You’re obviously done with him, and it doesn’t sound like you haven’t had sex with him in a while.” He says, placing his hand on your thigh. You look down at it, then at him. “What do you think, genius?” You lean towards him until your faces are only inches from each other. It’s sudden, his lips on yours and your hand on his cheek. You straddle him as he kisses down your neck. Your hands entangle themselves into his blond locks, pulling on them as you moan. Heat pools into your core as he slides the sleeve of your dress down, pressing open mouth kisses to your shoulder as he ruts up into your clothed cunt. “You sure you want me to fuck you here? they could be back soon.” He mutters as he unclips your bra, taking one nipple in his mouth as he fondles the other. You grind back onto him as you pull his pants just far down enough for you to pull his cock out from his briefs. “I don’t care, just give me what I want.” You stroke him, his groans filling the room as he bucks up into your hand.

He pulls your panties to the side as you position yourself above him, sinking down on his girth with a breathy sigh. His hands rest on your ass as you adjust to his size. “You ok, need a second?” He teases, and you glare at him. He’s the biggest you’ve had in a long time, and it caught you off guard. “Shut up and fuck me already. Isn’t that what you came over for?” His eyes darken with lust as he thrusts up into your heat, fingers digging crescents into your hips. Your arms sling over his neck, air getting knocked out your throat from how hard he fucks up into your pussy. He reaches down to rub small, quick circles onto your clit, and you grab his arm from the overstimulation. “Ohh goddd.” You whine, meeting his thrusts. He whispers obscenities into your ear, making you wetter by the second. “What do think your husband would think of you getting fucked by the pool boy, hmm?” He smirks, hand coming to pull you pack to face him by your braids. “A-armin, s’good, it’s sooo good.” You whimper, too focused on the pleasure to register anything he says. “You gonna cum?  Squeezing me like a fucking vice.” He grunts, thrusting into you with fervor. You could feel your orgasm coming, coil within you tightening by the second. Unused tears threaten to fall from your eyes from the pleasure as you ride him. “I’m gonna cummm.” You spasm around him, slick spreading on both your thighs. His eyes roll back as his thrusts get sloppier. “Cum in me. I want you to cum in me.” You say, voice hoarse from being so loud. “Ohhhh fuckkkkk.” He moans, spilling his hot cum into your sopping pussy. 

Heavy breathing echoes across the living as you slump onto him. Before either of you can say anything, you hear the click of the lock and the rowdiness of your family. You quickly push both you and Armin over the back of the couch, outside the view of the front door. You hear shouts and laughter as they make their way to the kitchen. “Where mom?” You hear your youngest say. Your eyes widen as you hear tiny footsteps coming closer. “Don’t worry about it buddy, she's probably out with some friends.” You hear your husband shout. You breathe a sigh of relief as we walk away. 

You wait until it's safe to usher him out the side door. “So about next week..?” You cut him off with a heated kiss before he can say anything else. “Don’t think this means that you can slack off on cleaning my damn pool. I expect it to as spic and span as before we slept together, you hear me?.” You say, eyeing him up and down. You leave him speechless as you walk away. He just smiles and shakes his head as he walks to his car.

He can’t wait to tell the group chat that he was the first one to fuck a married woman.

-Nene

[headspace-hotel]

Thinking of your post on the problems of veganism as a movement vs veganism as a lifestyle choice/one technique amongst many, that also applys super well to my issues with degrowth (And anticonsumerism as well) as a movement vs degrowth as one technique amongst many for dealing with the hydra-crisis of overproduction/resource overuse/destroying people and places for resources.

Like, in particular as an autistic person the continual recurring insistence that we need to just "change our desires" creeps me out. As someone who's difficulties were dismissed as just "having a bad attitude" and who's interests were so often dismissed as a waste of time instead of preparing for a job in the "real world" IDK if they truly understand the full horrifying implications of that line of thought.

So here's the thing with the concept of "overconsumption"

I had to do this whole project on overconsumption in my Anthropology class where I compared my consumption habits to those of someone 2 generations older, the prof clearly had in mind that we would discover a particular result that I did not end up finding.

I had to watch this documentary called "Affluenza" which was all about how Americans consume too much and they shop and buy things for fun and it's killing the planet, and it kept making these statements like "The average american does X..." and "X" would be something insane that I've never dreamed of doing.

Now I technically grew up below the poverty line, we were always financially insecure and struggling to pay bills and there was never any extra money lying around.

But my upbringing felt average, even privileged. We had a house instead of a trailer on cinder blocks, we had food and clothes. Compared to the upbringing of my mom and virtually everyone she knew growing up, we lived in fabulous luxury.

And the "overconsumption" lesson was bizarre to me because it brought up things like "going shopping for fun once a week" and "owning 20+ pairs of shoes" as if they were normal. I wear my clothes until they're unwearable and shop for clothes like once a year, and my mom has half as many clothes as I do. She feels guilty buying anything for herself and HATES shopping.

It feels like the dominant resources on living an eco friendly lifestyle presume that we have far more agency in what we buy and use than we actually do, instead of being stuck with the cheapest or closest available thing, and that our lives are full of extraneous, non-essential "consumption."

That class brought up the idea of "conspicuous consumption" a lot, or buying things to obtain social status instead of for their concrete utility. The way "conspicuous consumption" was addressed in the class was not very immediately relatable to me—I never had the option of buying clothes just to appear "with it" socially. My parents couldn't buy an extra car to fit the aesthetic of the American dream—we had enough trouble keeping the one we had running. The "conspicuous consumption" that class addressed was just not available to me.

However, I don't think conspicuous consumption is endemic to stable members of a certain socioeconomic status, because consumption is partially driven by the trauma of poverty. People who grew up poor will buy you more Christmas gifts than you can store or use, because they want to spare you the shame they experienced. Their brains are molded around the trauma of not having enough, and giving you enough is their way of keeping you safe.

Conspicuous consumption as a habit is pushed on you if your ancestors were shaped by this trauma. It is a misrepresentation to think of it as driven by pride, because your ability to perform the behaviors and mimic the appearances of a higher socioeconomic status has a concrete effect on how people treat you.

I know J.D. Vance is a nutjob now and Hillbilly Elegy was...not great (I'm more appalachian than you bitch, and I'm not even appalachian!) but the one thing that book got incredibly right was the idea of "social capital" and the way access to financial security and wealth gives you social capital. This is the main thing the current understanding of "conspicuous consumption" gets wrong—the need to escape the appearance and behaviors of poverty is seen as vain and self-indulgent, when it's a survival mechanism and it's something you're expected to engage in to gain opportunities and respect.

Poverty is humiliating. People with money never think about the fact that they have money. They think of themselves as average, if they think of themselves in terms of socioeconomic status at all. Being poor ends up embedded in the grooves and folds of your brain.

I remember when I was about 12, I gave my friend an informal tour of our house the first time she came over, showing her every room. I realized later that this wasn't exactly a normal behavior—I had done it because my mom did the same thing when she brought her friend over, and my mom had done it because it was a way of saying look, I survived. Look, I have a place to live to call my own, isn't this nice?

At its worst, anti-consumerism just reinforces the myth that your consumption is purely a matter of personal choice. And unfortunately when the conversation is ruled by the privileged, this idea will appear substantiated—because rich people can choose the aesthetics of poverty without concretely affecting the way the world treats them. A rich person can choose to live in a "tiny house" but they will never be "trailer trash."

Anti-consumerism revolves around ideas that are almost irreparably tainted by the mythology of an unequal society. Rich people possess and control the aesthetic of restraint and frugality, allowing them to playact living a Simple Life where they live in a tiny minimalist cottage and eat Healthy Vegan Oat Gruel, while McDonalds is the emblem of American excess. It is poor people's behaviors and habits that exemplify excess and greed.

Anti-consumerism isn't going to change anything until it openly confronts the fact that poverty is traumatic and consumption patterns often arise from poverty survival mechanisms.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep8 Musings - LDPDL: Burning Questions

I was reading this Variety article, and they mentioned something that made me think of fan critiques of Louis' opaque motivations in the finale, and the fun laughs we've shared over how he's so unbothered by vamp nonsense that he never seems to ask important questions.

I'm drafting a separate post specifically about "Vampire Grace," but I wanted to focus here on only one point in particular:

PAUL.

We always talk about whether Louis chose Lestat over Claudia; "you take him with you, in HERE!" But I haven't seen talk about how Louis chose Lestat over Paul, and how that factors into Lou's habit of not asking HELLA important questions that could've saved Loustat DECADES of resentment.

Paul's suicide "opened the series," setting this whole thing in motion. Florence blames Louis for his death, making Lou feel like a failure.

--the first time we see Louis outright say to someone's face "I love you," it's mere seconds b4 Paul jumps off a roof. (The only other person we see him say it to is Armand, right after saying they're not companions. 💀)

Paul's memory is wrapped up in Louis' love of Lestat, cuz until Les showed up, Paul had been Lou's one and only companion--the sole person he could TALK to. As a closeted gay man, Lou was desperate for MALE companionship: understanding, acceptance & love.

Sure, he had Grace & Lily (& later Claudia)--all WOMEN--but:

his daddy's dead, and who knows what their deal was, but it couldn't be worse than effing Florence. So there's a lingering want of a father-figure; someone older/wiser who could teach & guide Lou when he was feeling "lost...in a dark way" (*cough* Armand *cough*)

a father or brother is still not the companion Louis REALLY wants/needs, so ofc there's things Lou can't tell Paul, or have with him. Les's an upgraded Paul-- a HUSBAND, not a SIBLING (*cough* Claudia *cough*).

(deep down) Lou was jealous of how candid & honest Paul was; regardless that Paul's lack of a filter was a side effect of his mental illness & religious fanaticism (cuz vampirism's an allegory for sexuality--and even in gay mecca Paris & SanFran Lou was still tryna "find himself" as the Zodiac Killer *cough Daniel *cough*)

Paul's dying wish was for Loustat to never be together

and Lou felt he'd betrayed Paul; that he'd lied/hadn't kept his word

folding like a leaf rather than saying NO, or killing himself like he'd implied (suicide by vampire instead of cane-sword/alcohol poisoning)

(and Queen Claudia called Lestat the "Father of Lies" (aka The Devil), and she ain't never lie a day in her life, either)

So the Catholic guilt was extra strong, cuz Saint Paul was right about Les; but Lou chose Les anyway--in the church, on the altar--after Paul died trusting that Lou WOULDN'T take him back.

Instead, we get this boatload of excuses from Louis about the "vampire bond," when the only bond that matters is LOVE. But this is the crux of Louis' personality/problems, and why the interview took so long for him to attempt either the 1st or 2nd time around. Cuz Louis is a hypocritical coward stuffed to gills with self-loathing & GUILT. He runs away from the truth, he runs away from his issues, and he hides from himself and everyone around him.

So OF COURSE Louis doesn't ask important questions. It's not that he doesn't care--it's that HE'S SCARED of asking, and terrified of what the answer is. So it takes him forever to even BEGIN addressing the elephants in the room.

Louis ALWAYS suspected. But he was:

Scared of the answer/truth

Scared that Les would LIE

Scared he'd forgive Les regardless

Paul died in 1911. It had been 26 YEARS until Lou finally piped up in 1937 (the end of Les's Grovel Era). But this was the PERFECT chance to call Les' bluff & get some honest answers out of him for once, cuz:

If Les (unapologetically) caused Paul's death, he can just stay gone

It's in Les' best interest to tell the truth regardless, cuz he's been desperately tryna get back in Lou's (& Claudia's) good graces for 6 years, and being sincere will earn him more cookies (he'd also be banking on Lou forgiving him regardless, cuz he's been missing Les so bad, even after being beat into the next decade & dropped a billion miles in the air)

If Les IS lying, how would they even frikkin know if they can't read his mind? Lou just wants to see what Les will say

(In 2x6 he waited to ask Madeleine if she only saw Claudia as a replacement for her dead sister--a question he should've asked BEFORE he Turned her, but... 🤷 Moot.)

So in the finale, there's 2 painful truths Lou has to contend with:

WHY is he doing the 2nd interview?

WHO saved him during the Trial?

It takes Louis 77 YEARS to reclaim the "pieces of myself" he'd lost/forgotten. He ALWAYS knew things weren't adding up with Armand. He KNEW there were things missing. Even in SanFran, BEFORE the mind-wipe, he was already losing his mind/memories--PTSD from all the awful things he'd been through.

Even book!Louis knew about Claudia's diaries for a decade b4 he finally got the courage to ask the Talamasca if he could read them & speak to her ghost.

Although Lou's naive AF, he's not an idiot--he HAD A HUNCH that Armand knew more than he was letting on, which is precisely why he kept ignoring Armand every time he asked to stop the interview.

However, for once, Lou actually wastes VERY little time with this one:

As soon as he learns the truth about "Banishment," he divorces Armand, and runs back to NOLA to find Lestat. Memory is a monster Lou'd been running scared from all this time. He's tired of running away, wasting so much time, wasting the gift, when he could be actively tryna solve his problems to make life bearable/better. The hellish prison he'd lived in was by his own design--only he could chose to stand up, take control of his life; and finally ask the burning questions. "Truth and reconciliation."

Lou could finally make peace with the memory of the two people he'd been avoiding for so long; whom he felt he'd let down the most:

For once Lou chooses to be "companion enough for myself," and live with/for himself, not relying other people to save/fix/determine his life for him anymore. That's really the only way he'll be able to be with Les in a healthier, guilt-free relationship in the future.

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million (ch. 5)

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(A/N): A few more chapters to go. I'll try to post more regularly but honestly dates get away from me so fast. I hope you all enjoy!

Series masterlist linked here.

warnings: sensory overload, planes

wc: ~1100

~~

Jon swore that boarding time had only gotten longer the second time around. You attempted to shove him towards the already packed boarding lines. 

“You guys have carry-ons and you need to find a spot for them so go.” You insisted. Over the loudspeaker, airline employees began allowing passengers in group two to board. Damian opened his mouth to argue again. Jon cut him off. 

“You’re right; we should.” 

You turned towards him, surprised, but took the opportunity. 

“Thank you, Jon. I swear I can in fact survive twenty minutes without you guys. I did take a whole other plane here before I met you.”

Jon wrapped his hand around Damian’s elbow and walked him to the gate. Damian’s eyes roamed over Jon’s face, calculating. 

“Are you alright?” There was a slight pause. “Overstimulated?”

Jon nodded. Even with his earbuds in, the people and the noise grated on his senses. Until his powers came back in their entirety or settled out, they’d be in flux, and Jon wanted nothing more than to get out of the simultaneously open and crowded gate. The dim space of the plane sounded like a haven, even enclosed as it was. Any other day, he would have argued more about staying back with you. 

Damian passed Jon his own sunglasses and took the lead, scanning his boarding pass then Jon’s and guiding him into the boarding bridge. The lights, unnatural and piercing as they were, were dulled by the sunglasses. Jon relaxed the tension in his forehead, now looking more so than squinting at Damian. 

“Thanks.” He pulled a deep breath in then let it out through pursed lips. 

“You know you can just tell me things like that right?” Damian nudged. The line moved and they stepped further down the bridge. 

“Yeah I just—everything’s weird and off balance and I’m missing the-“ His voice dropped to a whisper. “-powers that I’ve had since I was a kid so it’s-”

“A lot,” Damian nodded. 

“Yeah.”

Jon dipped his head in response to the flight attendants’ greetings as he passed them by, following the line as it continued on towards the end of the plane. 

“You take the end,” Damian instructed. “You’ll have window control and the corner if you need it.” He reached his hand out to take Jon’s carry-on.

Jon didn’t argue, sliding clumsily to the end of the row. He turned the small TV — built-in to the headrest in front of him — off before sinking into his seat. It let out a puff of air as he sat down. Above his head, the sound of wheels on plastic illustrated Damian lifting both carry-ons into the overhead bins. Jon realized belatedly that he shouldn’t have let Damian do that with his arm injury. Too late now. 

After a moment, Damian maneuvered — much more gracefully — into the chair beside Jon, shoving his backpack under the seat in front. His arm curled around Jon’s shoulders. Jon followed the movement, forehead tipping down to the crook of Damian’s neck and eyes fluttering closed. One of Damian’s hands combed through his hair. The other wrapped around Jon’s wrist. Damian did that sometimes — often. In some ways, Jon appreciated it: Damian’s own way of checking his heartbeat in turn. Sometimes, like today, a move like that made Jon feel small. But Damian was safe. Jon could be small with him. 

There were a few minutes of indeterminate noise before you arrived. Jon felt your appearance more than anything else and even then, mostly in the change in Damian’s posture. 

“Hey.” Your voice was low. “Jon okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” You were addressing Damian but Jon answered anyway. “The airport was just loud.”

Damian’s hand didn’t move from his hair. Jon’s eyes stayed closed as you situated your bag under the seat and sat down. He assumed there’d been some sort of nonverbal communication over his head, but he couldn’t prove it. 

Jon sat up, eyes blinking open underneath the sunglasses. He recognized the worried look on your face — and didn’t that say something about how ridiculous the last twelve plus hours had been if he knew that face well already?

“I’m okay.” 

Your eyes narrowed in disbelief. 

“Or I’m getting there,” Jon amended. You seemed to take that answer better. In the middle seat, Damian huffed a laugh and switched to holding Jon’s wrist with his left hand. Jon didn’t pull away. Having Damian nearby, the warmth of his hand wrapped around Jon’s wrist, made all the difference. 

“Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Your eyebrows were still furrowed in concern. “Seriously.” 

Damian seemed to take you at your word so Jon nodded. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, of course,” you reassured him. “We’re in this together now.” 

A flight attendant bustled down the aisle, shutting overhead storage and checking that everyone was wearing seatbelts. You moved your hands away from your waist and both Jon and Damian copied the movement. The flight attendant moved on. 

Jon dropped his head back to Damian's shoulder, eyes following as you reached down into your bag and pulled out the craft project from the day before. 

“What are you making?” Damian asked. You looked up at him, eyes flicking down to your lap then back up. 

“Oh, nothing special honestly. I just found this pattern and liked it. And it’s nice to have something like this to do when watching TV, I think. Or like when you’re on the phone with someone. To have something to do with my hands.”

“It’s beautiful.” Jon readjusted his position against Damian’s shoulder as Damian leaned towards you. “You’re talented.”

“I’m not, honestly. It’s not really art, just string and a pattern I found online.” 

“Tt,” objected Damian. “There are many forms of art.”

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen and welcome once again to flight 1221 nonstop to Gotham International Airport. Thank you all for your patience and adaptability around the delays. We are fourth in line for takeoff and running smoothly so we should be up in the air in no time. Please be aware that there may be some turbulence as we get up in the air so seatbelt signs will remain on until it is safe to remove them. Thank you all again, and have a great flight.” 

The loudspeaker was silent for a moment. Jon opened his eyes from whenever he’d squeezed them shut. The crackling in the pilot’s voice as it filtered through the speaker was more audible than it had been the night before. 

Jon winced as the flight safety video began playing. He was spared the flashes of light from the darkened TV screen but not the sound projected over the entire plane. Pulling his hood over his eyes, Jon curled away from Damian and into the corner of the plane, closing them once again. 

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Anything For You

So here is the much awaited part 2 of ‘Good Girl’ for @ronsparky I’m sorry it took so long. Warnings: smut, sexual themes, bondage, swearing, Nixon being his usual self, 18+ fic only. Word count: 2.9k

It had been a few months since Y/n's last interaction with Speirs. It’s not like she was avoiding him, the company had been moved back to Mourmelon for a breather and between trying to relax and drills and training they just hadn’t managed to talk about what happened in Hagenau. They still shared longing looks across rooms and when they were occasionally close enough to touch Ron would reach out and brush his hand against hers.

After two months in Mourmelon, the company moved on to Struzelburg, Germany. The air seemed cleaner, the weather warmer and the general living conditions nicer. Y/n often thought that these comforts were almost like being back at Toccoa or Aldbourne.

She had just come back from collecting some eggs with Frank and George when she bumped into Speirs carrying a large tray of silver utensils through the street.

“You want some help with that Lieutenant?” She laughed, watching his shocked face meet hers and he gulped.

“No, that’s quite alright. I can manage,” he replied gruffly, already turning away from her and in the direction of the battalion post office.

Y/n trailed after him, despite Ron’s continued protests. Inside the post office, Ron placed the silverware on the counter, pulling out two packs of smokes for Private Vest.

“Same address as last time, Sir?” Vest asked, pocketing the packets of cigarettes with a smile.

“Yes,” Speirs replied abruptly, his eyes flicking back to Y/n for a second before turning away.

“Sure thing. I’ll say, Sir, the Y/l/n family will sure have a lot of nice silverware.” Speirs harsh glare cut the private off from saying anything else. Y/n stood in silence watching as Speirs tried to break his icey resolve and turn to her. He mumbled something about being needed at battalion before heading out the door, his head down as he passed Y/n but she couldn’t bring herself to follow him.

“Hey, Sergeant, ain’t Y/l/n your last name?”

“Shut it, Private,” Y/n snapped, spinning around on the spot and hurrying after Ron who had disappeared into the crowd of paratroopers.

Y/n had tried to find him that night but Lipton told her that he was in his room and didn’t want to be disturbed. This act went on for the rest of the month with Ron hiding away and avoiding her. That was until the company was moved on to Berchtesgaden.

Y/n finally found herself with her own room, a hot shower and a warm bed. It was these simple luxuries that Y/n had learned not to take advantage of. The alcohol flowed freely and the boys celebrated. The war in Europe had finally come to an end and despite the continuing war in Japan looming over them, for a moment, just for one night they could celebrate in peace.

Y/n had left the party an hour ago, wandering the halls in a dress she had found in one of the rooms. It was long, flowing out behind her and despite the neckline being a little lower than she would have liked, she wore it in a desperate attempt to reclaim something she had lost. She’d danced with nearly all the men that night, arm in arm with Malarkey, spinning frantically around the floor with George, Bull had taken her for a very sweet slow dance. She felt like a woman again, and the men treated her as though she was something to be admired.

Y/n found her way to the balcony that the officers often frequented, the sun loungers lay along one of the walls with discarded whiskey bottles that almost certainly belonged to Captain Nixon. At this time of night; despite the ruckus downstairs, the air was still and quiet. No wind blew, no birds sang. A dark silence hung over the mountains. Y/n didn’t know whether to find it ominous or peaceful but the silence was soon broken by the heavy footfalls of Ronald Speirs who rounded the corner so quickly that they both jumped in surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was out here,” Ron confessed, avoiding her gaze and turning to head back the way he’d come.

“Ron, wait! Please. You’ve been avoiding me and we need to talk,” Y/n protested, watching as Ron fought with himself until he finally turned around to face her.

“There’s nothing to talk about. What happened between us never should have happened. We both know that. You’re going to go back home soon enough and I’m planning on staying in the army, and that’s it, either of us make it out of the Pacific anyway.” Ron huffed, slouching against the hard brick wall, glaring at the ground, “we were never gonna make it you and I.”

Y/n felt her heart clench and her lungs felt tight as she tried to find the words to convey how she felt. “You don’t know that Ron. You can’t know that unless you give us a chance.”

“We have no chance Y/n. One day you’ll wake up and realise that I was no good for you so I’m letting you go now before it’s too late. I’ve sent all the silver home to your family. I want to support you even if I can’t be with you.”

“Who says you can’t be with me?” Y/n cried, “Do I not get a say in this.” She moved closer to Ron, her dress trailing along behind her. They were inches apart when she spoke again. “I want this to be my choice Ron, and I choose you.”

Ron surged forward, pressing his lips roughly to hers. His hand gripped desperately at her hips, pulling her flush to him. In that kiss was the sweetest passion she had ever felt. Ron’s lips were soft, the stubble of his chin grazing her face but she didn’t mind the burn. Y/n found herself weaving her fingers into his hair, wrapping one of her legs around his to pull him closer. The kiss spoke volumes, travelling all the unsaid words, the unspoken feelings and desires. Y/n pulled back, brushing her thumb over Ron’s cheek and feeling the damp tears that had fallen. “I want you too,” Ron whispered, his voice cracking and Y/n realised she had never seen him cry before, his stony resolve breaking down and revealing the man beneath who just wanted to be loved.

“Oh Ron,” she whispered, their lips brushing again as she spoke. Ron looked up at her, his eyes misty and his lip quivering as he spoke.

“I’m sorry I’m so weak. I should have told you before,” he mumbled into her neck, burying his face from her view.

“You’re not weak Ron. You are the bravest man in this company. Only the brave become vulnerable emotionally and for you to show me that is braver than any act of the battlefield,” Y/n soothed him, rubbing his back in comforting circles.

Ron pulled away, his eyes becoming dark and stormy once more and a sly smirk spread across his handsome face. “If I remember correctly, you and I have some unfinished business.”

Y/n chuckled, reaching out and placing her hand in his, “I believe we do.”

Ron chuckled and it felt like the most genuine laugh they had ever shared. He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style along the corridor. She grinned up at him and Ron smiled happily down at her. Y/n now knew what she was missing in life. All those years of thinking she had a missing part and Ron’s smile filled that hole.

The walk to Ron’s room was short, too short really because all too soon Ron was carrying her over the threshold of his room and slamming the door closed with his foot, never once putting her down until he gently laid her on the bed. Ron moved to close the curtains but Y/n called out to him, “No, leave them open. You look beautiful in the moonlight.”

Ron huffed, the smile growing on his lips once more. Y/n felt herself growing warmer, just led on Ron’s bed watching him unbutton his shirt in the moonlight had her heart racing. The curves of the muscles rippling under his toned flesh caused her to whimper and Ron’s head snapped up, dark eyes watching him intensely as he whispered, “Are you going to be a good girl?”

Ron’s lips brushed against her ear lobe, sending shivers down her spine, as he whispered sweet nothings to her. Y/n had lost all coherent language as soon as Ron’s lips met hers. His hands roamed down her sides, ruffling the fabric of the dress and bunching it around her middle.

“Ron,” she pleaded with him but he ignored her, continuing to kiss down her neck while his hand grazed its way up her bare thighs. Her hands fisted in his hair and Ron groaned at the comforting sting of pain and pleasure it gave him. Ron would be lying if he said he hadn’t been dreaming of this moment since Hagenuea, well maybe even before then. The pathetic whimpers falling from Y/n’s mouth had him driven to the brink of insanity.

“Ronny, please,” Y/n begged again and Ron chuckled at this new nickname he’d been given.

“Oh Darling, you’re so needy. Tell me what you want. I’ve barely touched you and you're so desperate already.”

Y/n gasped as Ron’s fingers ran over the edge of her pant line, “Ron, God, please. Please.”

“So impatient, Darling.” Ron tutted, sitting back on his heels and smiling down at her. The distinct bulge in his trousers caused Y/n to groan further. She reached out, massaging the bulge through his trousers and watching as Ron fought back the urge to moan.

“Please Ronny,” Y/n mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Please, Ron.”

Ron couldn’t take it anymore, he sprung forward, pinning her beneath his large frame, his hands gripping her wrists and pulling them above her head. Y/n tried to wriggle out from his grip but his grip only tightened.

“Now now Darling, don’t get upset,” Ron reassured her, pressing his lips to hers to silence the whimpers.

Ron worked quickly, stripping her of her dress and underwear, tossing them across the room to be collected later. Next came his trousers, he pulled off his belt and began wrapping it around her wrists, pulling them flush against the headboard and restraining her there.

“Please Ron, let me help you. Let me touch you,” she cried but Ron silenced her again with another kiss.

“Oh pretty lady, you don’t need to touch me. Tonight is all about you.”

Y/n could feel his fingers slipping down beneath her dress once more, rubbing against the soft flesh before trailing to where she wanted him. Where she needed him.

“Ron!” She gasped, as his thumb began to slowly circle her clit, while his other hand moved up her body, stroking the smooth skin of her lower abdomen before trailing up to her breasts. Y/n had never felt so safe and secure while simultaneously being so exposed as he pressed another kiss to her lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ron cooed, brushing the stray strands of hair that had fallen into her face while continuing his movements on her clit. She couldn’t speak, she could barely breathe as her stomach began to knot and the pressure between her legs grew. She wanted to snap her legs shut as she wriggled beneath him, and as if Ron sensed this he situated himself further between her legs. “Now you promised you’d be a good girl and good girls don’t close their legs now, do they?”

Y/n shook her head frantically, she’d never felt so pathetic. Ever since she joined the paratroopers she had spent every day proving she was tough, she could handle herself and yet by just his touch alone Ronald Speirs had rendered her incapacitated.

A small moan escaped her as Ron’s tongue swirled around her nipple.

“Do you like that, Darling? Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” Y/n nearly screamed. “Please, I like it. Don’t stop.”

Ron hummed in amusement, repeating the action and earning the same response.

“Please Ron, please I need more,” she whined, fighting against the restraints that held her there. The desperate look in her eyes was all Ron needed. He reached forward, removing the belt and freeing her hands. They immediately landed on the hem of his underwear, pulling at the elastic impatiently but Ron pushed her hands away.

“Not yet my Darling. Remember I told you, tonight is all about you,” Ron pressed a final kiss to her lips, squeezing her hips before he sank beneath the covers out of view.

Y/n had been with men before but none had done anything like this. She gasped, grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets and throwing her head back in an exaggerated groan. Ron linked his arms under her legs, placing them over his shoulders and he continued to trail kisses over her clit. The small licks and nibbles drove her wild. Y/n cried and whimpered, tugging frantically at Ron’s brown locks as the pressure in her stomach continued to build.

“God, Ron I’m so close. I’m so close. Please…” she cried out as the knot came undone and her whole body spasmed. Her legs clamped tightly around Ron’s head but he didn’t seem to notice, choosing to continue to kiss and lick her until the tremors finally subsided and Y/n could breathe again.

He reappeared from beneath the covers, his lips and chin dripping with saliva and a wicked grin on his face. His brown locks fell onto his sweaty forehead as he spoke, “Did you enjoy that my Darling.”

“Yes,” Y/n mumbled, her chest still heaving from the effort of her orgasm.

“Good because I’m only just getting started.”

Y/n let out a guttural moan, pushing herself off the pillows, “Ron, I want you to fuck me.”

She wasn’t sure where the foul language had come from, despite being surrounded by soldiers all the time she rarely swore but now seemed like an appropriate time.

Ron took this as a sign, pushing his boxers down and allowing his desperately hard cock to spring free from its restraint. He reached over to the bedside cabinet, retrieving a condom and rolling it down his cock. Y/n watched in awe of him. Not only was he an attractive man but his body was sculpted like a Greek God and Y/n thanked all those runs up Currehea for that.

Ron pushed her back against the bed, pressing his hips into hers and teasing her once more but the teasing didn’t continue for long and soon he was lining himself up to her entrance.

“Are you ready? If at any point you want me to stop…”

“Ron, please just shut up and fuck me,” Y/n snapped, already too wound up and desperate to keep talking. Ron nodded, pressing his lips securely to hers as he entered. With every inch that pushed inside of her Y/n felt fuller than she ever had before and the ecstasy building within her was stronger than ever.

Once he was inside all the way, Ron allowed her a moment to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into her. His thrusts were relentless and precise. Hitting the exact spot with every thrust and sending Y/n into a frenzy of incoherent phrases as she clawed at his back like a mad woman. Despite the pace he was going, Ron made her feel loved with every thrust, pressing delicate kisses to her ear lobe, whispering to her, a number of ‘I love you’s’ were exchanged too.

“Ron, please… I’m so close,” she cried out, causing Ron to draw in a deep breath. He reached his hand down between their bodies, circling her clit with his thumb once more until she came undone with a loud cry of his name. He grabbed her face, kissing her passionately and silencing the moans as he came undone inside of her.

The pair lay like this for a few moments, sweat trickling down Ron’s spine and his damp hair smeared against his forehead.

“Y/n, Sweetheart, are you alright?” He looked down at her, his eyes full of love and concern.

“I’m perfect,” she replied, reaching up to brush away the stray hairs from his eyes, “Everything is perfect.”

The moment was disturbed by a harsh crashing noise followed by the bedroom door flying open and a very drunk Nixon stumbling into the room.

“SPEIRS?” He shouted, seemingly shocked that Ron was in the room he thought belonged to him.

“SERGEANT Y/L/N?” Nixon started blankly for a few moments before sticking his head out the door.

“HARRY YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS. I TOLD YOU THEY WERE FUCKING!”

“NIXON!” Ron snapped, glaring harshly at him as he rolled out of Y/n who let out a small moan. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Nixon looked at them again before waving his hand and mumbling as he retreated out of the room. The couple fell back onto the bed laughing. Ron pulled off the condom, disposing of it into the bedside bin and moving to get out of bed when Y/n stopped him.

“Wait. Let’s cuddle for a while.” Ron nodded, sighing as he pulled Y/n flush to his chest. Y/n glanced up at him, her face shining pale in the moonlight.

“Ron, next time we have sex, can you please make sure you lock the door.” Ron nodded, sighing as he pulled Y/n flush to his chest.

“Of course my Darling. Anything for you.”

Tags @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @ronald-speirs @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt

[sunsetsandsunshine]

An issue I need to address:

TW: Drama, cussing…yk all that jazz. I apologize that this post is what you all are receiving from me today. But I need to talk about this before it get’s worse.

Okay, I just want to clarify that there should be no hate being sent towards @osctwordfan for this. Hate and hurtful comments will not and cannot fix what has been done. But that does not I am not angry about it. I am mad. I am livid. Only two people on this site has been able to make me this genuinely upset and it’s frustrating that making a PUBLIC POST is the only way to get this person’s attention. 

4 days ago, May 16th, @osctwordfan started following me. Which, I greatley appreciated because HELLO??? Who wouldn’t, right? A new follower is just an awesome feeling to have. So, I checked their blog to see what they liked and we shared SO many similar interests it was almost scary. And I followed back. 

If you know me for a while, you know my whole “Hi new mutual 💝” message I send to my new mutuals. Because 1: I love talking to people and 2: I just want others to feel like they’re welcome. (If you haven’t received one yet it’s either bc you’re a little older than me or idk how to send the message. BUT YOU WILL GET ONE TRUST 💞💓💘💖💝)

And you all know how you can SEE when someone is online? Well, they were online when I texted this. And I got no response. I just assumed it was nervousness or shyness so I didn’t really question it. Until a few minuetes later they reblogged my “You can always ask” fic. 

Which, woo-hoo I guess. But my message was still not answered. But I didn’t think it was THAT deep. 

The next day, May 17th, I noticed they were online. I sent a quick “Hi” again, awaiting a response. About 5 minutes later I was met with one, except it wasn’t the one I was expecting or hoping for. 

It was a request. For a fanfiction. Okay okay cool. Coolio. You…ignore my two messages of me just simply saying a quick “hello” and you don’t answer…instead you ask for a tickle fanfiction of some turtles? 

I get people are shy. I get that. I do. But me and one of my best friends were talking about it on Insta and it made no damn sense. Following, reblogging and requesting things from an individual that’s been trying to speak with you for the past few days and you not responding and then ASKING something of them is just…weird. 

Me and one of my best friend’s convo:

So, on May 18th I saw they were online again, and so I texted the following: 

Which I felt was fine. It was straight to the point. But where my anger really emegred was when I got notifications of my fics being reblogged by the same person. AGAIN. NOT EVEN 3 MINUTES LATER.

And then May 19th they liked another post of mine. Although it was a post that you would have to DIG DEEP FOR. Because I made it a year ago and only 4 people liked it (INCLUDING ME.). So you would have to LOOK LOOK to find it. 

Then yesterday, May 20th, was just my breaking point. I was chilling, having a nice evening, talking with my fellow mutuals, writing a fic (AND FINISHING WOO-HOO) until I get a notification. And guess what? It’s just another reblog by the same person. 

Did I get any responses of my pervious texts? Nope. Not at ALL. 

I am sick and hurt of being treated as if I’m just a computer that makes fanfictions.

I am a PERSON. A human being that for the past week has been trying to talk with you. And you at fucking 16 should understand that. 

You are one whole year older than me and you think you have the right to treat me this way. Who the absolute hell do you think you are? 

Because let me get this through your head: I live in an African and Jamaican  household, and one thing that we let each other know day in and day out is to never ever let someone make you feel like you’re less. 

So when you see this @osctwordfan I am hoping you have a good explanation regarding to last week. 

@ ing mutual’s in this because this is INSANE and I am LIVID rn: 

@itzsana-kiddingmenow @veryblushyswitch

@skyloladoodles @saturnzskyzz @backy-san

@creativecutie @savemeafruitjuice

@mythica0 @leosmasktails @someone1348 @vxlepop

@anxious-lee @charismakat

@sunny-117 @odder-outlet @jamiesgotchu @ziipzeepzop-eez

@danineedshelp @pocky-dragon

@my-l0v3r-v3rse @rice-cake-teen10

[sirfrogsworth]

If there is a post discussing ableism there is a decent chance a disabled person is writing it.

I really appreciate the work this person did transcribing that post. I am always grateful when people make my work more accessible.

But I am really getting tired of defending myself on this.

My disability makes me very tired, reduces my concentration, and kills my willpower.

For a long time I thought that last thing was me being lazy. That's what my own father thought for a long time. And I was often scolded when I was younger for being lazy. And to this day I struggle with feeling depressed when I cannot be productive.

But willpower is a fickle thing and I do not believe it can be explained simply by calling people lazy.

I have nearly a thousand unfinished posts in my draft folder because I simply ran out of willpower to finish them.

Inspiration is fuel. Sometimes it is the only thing I have to overcome how tired I am and how hard it is to stay focused. And if I lose the inspiration to do something, there is a good chance I will not be able to finish it.

When I set out to create one of my typical high effort posts, the process looks roughly like this...

Research any topics I am unfamiliar with.

Gather any images I need.

Brainstorm what I want to write.

Write a first draft.

Write a second draft.

Write a third draft.

If there is humor in what I'm writing, I will do a joke pass.

Then I do a grammar check.

Then I do a grammar check.

Then I do a grammar check.

I keep doing grammar checks until I find no more mistakes.

Then I do a quick fact check and google anything I am not 100% certain is correct.

Then I do a polishing pass and address any formatting issues.

And if I get this far, I publish the post.

By the time I get to publishing I am usually very tired. I no longer have any ability to concentrate. And the willpower to put any more effort into the post is long gone.

It's not that I don't want to transcribe images. It's that I just don't have the willpower to do so.

It is just not feasible for me to go back and transcribe everything. I don't want my posts ending up with those thousand unfinished drafts.

There is also the matter of not knowing if my post will reach 10 people or 10,000 people. I can't justify using up all of that energy for 10 people. My energy is my most precious commodity. I have to be very careful how I use it.

Disabilities vary wildly and lately I have seen a lot of disabled folks struggle to see the world outside their particular limitations. And that is frustrating. If we are going to be a strong community and advocate for ourselves, we need to learn more about each other's needs and limitations.

I'm not saying this person intended to call me lazy. But, if I am being honest, reading this felt like those days of my dad calling me lazy and wishing I had a better work ethic like my brother. He was a great dad, but he was not perfect. Especially when I was younger and we didn't understand my health issues.

So before you criticize someone please try to consider if there is a legitimate reason to do so. Maybe look at their tumblr and read their bio. Or check out a few posts.

I can be too quick to judge. It's something I have to work on as well. But this is the last time I'm going to apologize for not doing extra labor on my posts.

[4dkellysworld]

I’m really struggling to realize self when all I feel is sadness for a variety of reasons. One is the fact that I know this information and don’t apply it “correctly” the other is feeling detached from everything else but the heartbreak I endured this year from an ex and failing to detach myself and accept it or the situations that caused pain from it

I understand, I was like you a few months ago. There were some painful things that no matter how much I tried to tell myself it wasn't real, it just had too much of an emotional charge and imprint to let go of and detach from. This is where I felt I had to deviate from 4dbarbie and find my own way to address this - ignoring it didn't feel right and kept me stuck. I really recommend you read this post first of all which describes what I did to let go of them. And here's an exercise you can do for releasing those (so long it's not something that will retraumatize you if you bring it up, if this is the case, I highly recommend going to a therapist for help for these):

Find a nice quiet private space where you are free to be as emotional as you can be. You can do this exercise while sitting or even lying down, whatever feels comfortable.

Deliberately think of whatever hurts or bothers you - it's okay, you're doing this to let go of them for good and be free. They aren't here anymore. It's not in the present anymore.

(this can be done during/after step 4 or 5 if you feel unable to accept it at the start, do what feels right) Accept what has happened. Accept there's nothing you can do to change what happened and let go of wanting to change anything. It is what it is. All you can choose now is to be free of it and let it go for good. Accept whoever/whatever hurt you as they are. If you have any grievances/regrets/grudges or such, choose to let it go and forgive everything including yourself (I highly recommend you read this post for why this is helpful as it's very relevant to your question too). Accept yourself as you were then and are now. Accept everything as it is.

Notice the thoughts, emotions and sensations that come up - don't deny or resist them, let them come up and let them be. You can cry or get angry, it's okay. Accept them all without identifying with them, it's just old stuff coming up to be released. Just keep your awareness on those sensations and watch them.

Imagine there's a window from your body where you feel the emotions/pain/resistance/sensations and that you're inviting and allowing them to leave - you don't need to force it to leave, it will leave or dissolve on its own as you continue watching it and letting everything be. You can imagine it all leaving in coloured smoke if you'd like, whatever colour feels appropriate and comes to mind. It's just energy leaving your body. (I did this in therapy a few years ago and it actually helped me release some major things that I hadn't been able to do so any other way)

Keep doing this until it's all gone and you feel nothing when you think of whatever was bothering you, what's left is peace :)

It's not necessary to do this for every single thing, just what you feel unable to let go of no matter how hard you try. At some point you'll find a lot of peace and quiet inside (this will also help quiet the mind a lot) and then you'll intuitively know when you're ready to completely detach from everything.

If you feel led to learn more about this practice, feel free to check out The Sedona Method book on my google drive. I don't recommend reading the whole thing unless you want to, just look for what you need in the book and apply it.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟐 (𝟐/𝟐)   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   ZUYATL HOUSE, APRIL 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  Once the cake had been cut—always an elaborate act of skill and expertise that Olalla performed while her relatives oohed and ahhed—the party resumed its relaxed atmosphere of casual conversation. The night had a scheduled end, but it had gone well enough to ensure everyone would trickle out slowly, in pairs or one-by-one, well into the late hours. Matias ate his cake slowly, taking small bites even once everyone else had left the table to converse elsewhere. He had retired himself to a more comfortable chair in the corner when Arnaut, having just finished a winding conversation with Olalla about the cake, approached.

❧ i wish i hadn't had to split it up into two posts, but !!!! in any case. spent the entire time paranoid about mixing up the two mats here ksdfds name diversity is for schmucks smh

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

“Happy birthday, Papa,” he offered by way of greeting. 

Matias, pulled from his thoughts, glanced up. “Thank you.”

“Wrong flavor cake?”

“What?” 

Arnaut exhaled, not quite a sigh as much as a resignation. “It was a joke,” he offered, deflated. “You look disappointed, so.” 

“Birthdays become bittersweet at a certain point.” Matias rarely regarded anyone with anything except soft openness, but Arnaut felt especially exposed as his father gazed up at him, adding, “Sit down. Let’s hear it.”

He chuckled, which was more of a self-deprecating delay than a sincere sign of amusement. “No poker face whatsoever, huh?”

Arnaut sank heavily into the other chair. This was a well-established routine, albeit one that had been subjected to the disembodiment of telephone calls until recently. Forty years on, Arnaut still wasn’t sure what tells always gave it away. Matias would have told him, had he asked, that it was easy to tell when untroubled minds were burdened. It wasn’t an indictment. Arnaut had always been easygoing, carefree, disturbed only in the fleeting way skipped stones did a lake’s surface. When he was truly beset by a problem, it was unmistakable. Liars did so naturally; for those accustomed to carrying burdens, it was the same. 

“Zifar is very unhappy with me,” Arnaut huffed. “We've been arguing all week.” The particulars didn’t matter, so he restrained himself from launching into an extended complaint about the petty conflicts over filing systems and paper trails and forms of address for people whose jobs Arnaut hadn’t known existed until he was being asked to involve himself in them. 

Matias crossed an ankle over his knee. “Well,” he began, pausing as if reasoning his way to a conclusion. “You know what they say about chiefs of staff: usually single-use, quick expiration date.”

Instead of a humoring chuckle, Arnaut stared at the tiles of the floor and insisted, “I can make it work. I just don’t know how yet.”

“Maybe it’s worth saying you don’t have to ‘make it work,’” Matias offered. “The idea, I believe, was that keeping him on could help with the transition. If that’s not the case—” 

Arnaut imagined himself firing Zifar. He would enter his office and find him there already, laying out neatly typed briefings in colored-coded folders. It was a system Safya had devised nearly two decades earlier, and Zifar must have learned it when she hired him in 1981. It was difficult for Arnaut to appreciate. He wanted Zifar to just explain the highlights to him. He wanted him to condense five pages of summary, itself condensed from fifty or five hundred, into a couple minutes of easy listening. Better yet, he wanted simple the assurance Zifar would inform him on the fly—that he didn’t need to prepare or memorize anything because Zifar would be there, aiding him as they went, a ventriloquist of sorts. So, there would be something rich in interrupt him to explain this system was no longer necessary. Zifar and the collection of byzantine practices he represented would no longer be necessary. 

The satisfaction of that imaginary scene made him feel guilty, and Armaut interrupted Matias as a reflexive response. 

“He’s trying,” Arnaut insisted, raising a hand, all too eager to defend the man whose job he entertained imperiling moments before. “He’s doing everything right.”

Matias cocked his head to the side. “What’s the problem then?” 

“I’m not there yet.” 

It went without saying. With more effort, more time, perhaps more patience, Arnaut could learn the system. He could muddle his way through the processes and mechanisms that Safya had devised, or otherwise inherited herself, to make work manageable. Although lacking the power of the Crown itself, this office of theirs unfurled from Arnaut’s desk into various units and projects and employees, all connected to each other and the rest of the government in ways that boggled the mind. Some people were meant for bureaucracy. They thrived in it. Every day, evidence mounted that Arnaut was not among them. He was not the most devout but, if he had been, he would believe his divine role was to set Uspana back a century through his personal failings. That was a crushing notion—that Safya’s death was not just tragic in and of itself but rather because it was the first domino in a greater series of losses.  It was this idea, or the fact that Arnaut couldn’t stomach it, which forced him to conclude he could change. There was no other option. 

Matias had other ideas, although his primary concern in this moment was soothing his son’s nerves. He was floundering, already in need of a lifeline that didn’t appear to exist. 

“It’s not a defeat to hire someone who meshes better,” he said, assuming Arnaut needed permission, perhaps simply in the tacit form of a gentle suggestion. 

Arnaut was quiet, and Matias allowed the moment to extend as long as he needed. He watched Arnaut’s features, seeing the effort he put into thinking through the proposition. For some time, Arnaut furrowed his brow and chewed his lip, Matias observed this, and the party continued apace around them. 

Finally, Arnaut said, “It would be, I think.” 

Matias had suspicions, but he understood that it wasn’t a capricious or unreasonable position to take. More than that, he knew Arnaut was a person propelled by emotions, including a fierce sense of loyalty. His decisions, insofar as they rested on reason, were always doomed or fated to half-hearted execution if they weren’t underwritten by some kind of passion. Arnaut’s motivations were not abstract concepts or aspirational virtues. His motivations were flesh and blood; they had names and faces. It wasn’t hard for Matias to imagine what led Arnaut to believe he had to keep this way of doing things alive, even at the expense of himself. 

“Stick it out then, if that’s what you believe is best,” Matias replied, his tone gentle and without judgment.

As Matias and Arnaut talked, Leonor was down the hall within the house, changing her clothes in a guest bathroom. She had shoved her gown into a garment bag, and now she stood in front of the mirror in her underwear. A pair of slacks and a tee shirt waited, stacked on a chair nearby. She turned this way and that, frowning. Earlier, Olalla had shoved a plate stacked with cake into her hands—thick icing, four layers, moist cake with a delightful crumb. Leonor praised it enthusiastically to distract her aunt from the fact that she had mostly mashed it with her fork and eaten just a single bite. 

With a sigh, she hurriedly put on her clothes, ran her fingers through her hair, and threw the door open. She planned to leave discreetly, headed for a party whose start coincided with a respectable time to depart the family gathering. Matias wouldn’t mind. She assured herself that her grandfather understood her life was busy; he would be grateful she had stayed through dinner, and he would be grateful for the matching tie and pocket handkerchief she gifted him. Her mind wasn’t on him but rather on the time, unknown because she lacked a watch, as she hustled out of the bathroom.

“Are you leaving?”

Mateo’s voice startled her. Leonor scowled at him once she had recovered and whipped around to see him lingering in the hallway. She replied, “I have plans.”

Hoping that would suffice but knowing it never did, she began walking. Mateo, retorting, “But this is our plan,”  followed her. 

Leonor stopped abruptly, and Mateo stumbled to avoid running into her. She sighed. 

“Can you give me a break?”

“You know what?” Mateo said, quickly walking around to face her. “No, I can’t. I need to talk to you, and you just walk off every time I see you.” He paused, frowning, then tacked on, “Which isn’t often, by the way.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate because I don’t—” Leonor stopped herself. She shook her head, then started walking once more. “Actually, no. I have to go, and I’m not going to get sucked into ... whatever this is with you.”

Still, Mateo followed her. “Why are you being like this?” he demanded.

He imagined himself to be on the verge of a sobering adult conversation, but Leonor heard everything he said in the cadence of a whining child.  Needful. Their mother had called him that once, speaking to Leonor in an offhanded way as they did a task at home. Once, her mother’s willingness to talk to her like a friend had been a great source of pride for her. Safya would share little anecdotes and opinions as they kneaded dough or cleaned paintbrushes or put on their shoes for work. Being the oldest child, and being her quiet companion throughout the day, Leonor was allowed small glimpses into her mother’s relationship to others. That included her own siblings from time to time. Needful seemed to ring true. Leonor, perhaps twelve at the time, recalled in part when Mateo had been born. She was not quite five that year, which meant she had been old enough to be enthusiastic about there being a baby at home but too young to appreciate what it meant. Her earliest memory was exactly how needy her infant brother was. Greedy and demanding, he clung to their mother and ate up the time that belonged to Leonor. Even when he was asleep or in someone else’s arms, it felt like there was less of Safya left for her. 

Leonor knew on some level that her mind had, as she grew older, magnified those emotions and deepened them. As a soon-to-be five year old, she hadn’t resented her brother. She didn’t know the word “needy”; she would have thought about the problem in terms like “mine” or “now” instead, self-centered and impatient as all little kids were inclined to be. Even that would have been momentary. Her mother’s kisses and attention blotted away the dissatisfaction. So, too, did pridefully carrying around this living baby doll—kissing his soft head, making him laugh, helping Safya hold his bottle. Nonetheless, that was what she magnified now, the idea that Mateo had not outgrown the clinginess of infanthood and that, in fact, her mother had understood this. It didn’t matter that Safya and Mateo maintained a special relationship—that she called him needful because she wanted him, needed one of her children, to need her. 

Leonor and Gil each had an independent streak. For her, it was a product of responsibility. It could have been the people-eater in her, too. Not so with the middle child. Mateo and Safya were, in more ways than Leonor had ever cared to count, cut from the same cloth. 

Mateo was willing to wait for an answer, and Leonor had scrunched her face up in a way that suggested she had one. Finally, she did respond to him. 

“... I don’t know what you want from me,” she began. There was a callousness to how she said the words. There was no frustration. It was matter-of-fact, inarguably so. “I don’t want to be your mama, if that’s what you’re getting at. You don’t need me. I didn’t need anyone when I was your age. Time to grow up. Go drink some wine and dance with Aunt Prissy.”

Taken aback, Mateo blinked a few times before mouthing, “What ... ?

Leonor rolled her eyes. “You’re being childish,” she said, aiming to clarify. With a handwave, she added, “Hanging around. Interrogating me.” 

Mateo’s disbelief was palpable, but Leonor remained unaffected. She could have addressed the truth head on. Like Beatriz, she knew what this conversation was supposed to be. She knew what Mateo wanted to say to her, and she knew that she wasn’t ready—wasn’t willing—to engage with it. When he did finally shake his head and speak again, she had already made up her mind to disregard him and resume her plans for the night.

“You’re my sister, Leonor,” he pleaded. It wasn’t meant to sound that way. He had hoped it would be a strong, persuasive statement. Instead, it came out as a quiet, wavering appeal. “I just want to feel like we’re family. I never see you anymore, and I don’t get it. I just feel like Mama would—”

Leonor cut him off, shrugging,“I don’t know what to tell you, Mat.” 

She was walking again before he could devise another tack to take. Weaving around him, she called back, “It’s not that serious. I’m going to be late.”

TRANSCRIPT:

ARNAUT | Happy birthday, Papa. MATIAS | Thank you. ARNAUT | Wrong flavor cake? MATIAS | What? ARNAUT | [Exhales] It was a joke. You look disappointed, so.

MATIAS | Birthdays become bittersweet at a certain point. Sit down. Let’s hear it. ARNAUT | [Chuckles] No poker face whatsoever, huh?

ARNAUT | Zifar is very unhappy with me. We’ve been arguing all week.

MATIAS | You know what they say about chiefs of staff: usually single-use, quick expiration date.

ARNAUT | I can make it work. I just don’t know how yet. MATIAS | Maybe it’s worth saying you don’t have to “make it work.” The idea, I believe, was that keeping him on could help with the transition. If that’s not the case—

ARNAUT | He’s trying. He’s doing everything right. MATIAS | What’s the problem, then? ARNAUT | I’m not there yet. MATIAS | It’s not a defeat to hire someone who meshes better.

ARNAUT | It would be, I think. MATIAS | Stick it out then, if that’s what you believe is best.

[Leonor sighs]

MATEO | Are you leaving?

LEONOR | I have plans.

MATEO | But this is our plan.

LEONOR | Can you give me a break? MATEO | You know what?

MATEO | No, I can’t. I need to talk to you, and you just walk off every time I see you—which isn’t often, by the way. LEONOR | You’re going to have to elaborate because I don’t—

LEONOR | Actually, no. I have to go, and I’m not going to get sucked into … whatever this is with you.

MATEO | Why are you being like this?

LEONOR | … I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t want to be your mama, if that’s what you’re getting at. You don’t need me. I didn’t need anyone when I was your age. Time to grow up. Go drink some wine and dance with Aunt Prissy.

MATEO | What … ? LEONOR | You’re being childish. Hanging around. Interrogating me.

MATEO | You’re my sister, Leonor. I just want to feel like we’re family. I never see you anymore, and I don’t get it. I just feel like Mama would— LEONOR | I don’t know what to tell you, Mat.

LEONOR | It’s not that serious. I’m going to be late.