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#i wish i had the time to do more but i have been absolutely swamped with my to last exams
userlando · 7 months
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sweetener — oscar piastri
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oscar piastri x fem!reader [4.2k] summary: you'd shown him a picture of a couple on a date, painting. it was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that oscar had apparently stored away in his mind. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, semi-public sex, cunnilingus. a/n: hellooo my loves, this was completely inspired by the mclaren painting video and I just couldn't resist writing it. it was time that oscar made his debut on my blog so hope you enjoy this. as always, don't be a ghost reader bc i'd love to hear your thoughts!! happy reading xx
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Your boyfriend was a closeted romantic but not many people believed it. He was sarcastic, funny and way more intelligent than people gave him credit for and your friends had warned you of lovebombing when you first started dating.
They couldn’t believe that a man his age could be so sweet, doting on you from the start and planning your dates whereas, in the past, you’d handle everything, secretly wishing that the men on Tinder could - for once - plan nice dates that didn’t involve a couch, a movie and minimal dry conversation that lead nowhere.
It was on your fourth date, when Oscar had taken you for a fun night of mini golf that you realised that you’d quite literally struck gold. And when he’d wrapped his arms around you to help you put and kissed your cheek, you knew you were screwed.
Summer break had just begun but you were still swamped with work, sitting in online meetings until your back turned sore and Oscar kept his distance out of respect for exactly two days before he grew bored and restless. He had your full attention during nights, where you’d go for late night drives to get your usual soggy fries and milkshakes, but he saw how you were growing more and more agitated from work and he couldn’t have that.
It was a bit tricky to set up a picnic basket, packing everything up neatly for a drive out to a meadow he’d come across a few months ago. It was something he’d randomly planned - and scrolled through Pinterest for, and the look on your face was worth all the trouble and then some.
You’d cupped his face in your hands and pressed smacking kisses to his face in thanks, squealing in barely contained excitement as you skipped into your room to change out of your sweats. And when you’d emerged… Oscar had half a mind to throw the plans to the wind, restraining his urge to grab you by the hips and guide you back into the bedroom.
He couldn’t stop staring as you walked in front of him, watching the way your legs moved as you took large and calculated steps over the tall grass. You were surrounded by beautiful flowers and greenery, but his eyes were focused on you and the flowy dress you wore. The hem of it was kissing the tops of your thighs, beautiful and flattering on you but then again, everything you wore was. It must’ve been new, because Oscar would have definitely remembered a dress like that.
You turned your head to shoot him a smile over your shoulder that was brighter than the sun above and Oscar stumbled a little, causing you to giggle as you stuck your hand back for him to grab. The warmth of your palm made him squeeze it in his grasp, taking a few big strides to fall into step with you.
“This is beautiful.” You mused, voice laced with wonder and he was nodding, even though his eyes were trained on you.
“Yeah.” He murmured, sounding faraway and you shot him an amused glance that Oscar absolutely loved.
The furrowed brows and teasing tilt of his lips would be the death of him. He glanced up, scanning his eyes for a good place to spread out the blanket and he made a pleased sound in his throat when he spotted a hidden spot beneath a gigantic tree. It had plenty of shade and he thanked his lucky stars because he’d forgotten sunscreen and the sun was brutal today. He’d hate to see you get sunburnt. Although he never did mind rubbing you down with aloe.
Oscar cleared his throat when his mind started wandering, ridding himself of his thoughts as he steered the both of you to the spot under the tree. You followed him, humming a song quietly and he couldn’t help but smile at the serenity of it all.
You took a few moments to spread out the blanket, toeing off your shoes and settling down with a sigh. Oscar popped open the lid of the basket and reached inside for the bottle of Orangina and champagne.
“Ah, fuck.” He swore as he peered down into the basket, making you frown in concern.
“What?” You scooted closer, craning your neck to see what he was looking at.
“I forgot the glasses.” He looked up at you, giving you an apologetic smile that you were quick to wave off. “Sorry, love.”
“That’s fine.” You made grabby hands at the bottle, watching him pass it over with a laugh. “We’ll just have to share.”
You unscrewed the cork and took a sip of the cold juice while Oscar started unpacking the vast array of food. He’d really gone all out, picking out your favourite pastries and fruits and something about that made you very emotional. Oscar glanced up at you, stopping his movements when he noticed the shine in your eyes and your wobbly lip.
“Baby.” His voice made you look up, and he laughed when you smiled tearfully at him, like you were trying to reassure him that your tears were out of joy rather than sadness. Oscar cupped your cheek and pulled you forward for a kiss. “Why have you gone all teary on me?”
You gave a heavy sigh that made Oscar’s heart clench painfully in adoration. “It’s just… You’re so sweet to me. I love this. I love you.”
Oscar watched you scoot closer, pressing his face into your hair when you cuddled into his side. You smelled like flowers and he couldn’t resist burying his nose in your hair because that scent was absolutely intoxicating. It was everywhere at home. On the pillows, towels and blankets and it always pulled the same reaction from him.
Sometimes you’d pack his suitcases for him, not because he asked or demanded you, but because your heart was just that kind and you’d spritz your perfume on his clothes because you knew that he secretly loved that. And he did. Nothing made him feel more homesick and loved than when he flipped the lid of his suitcase open and was hit with your scent.
“I guess you’re gonna love me even more.” He said and that prompted you to look up, pulling away from his embrace slightly. The curious tilt of your eyebrows made him smile. “Here.”
He handed you the small container of washed and fresh strawberries before turning to his bag to rifle through it. You gave a laugh of surprise when you realised what he was pulling out, eyeing the paintbrushes and tubes of colours.
You couldn’t believe that he remembered. The one time you’d tilted your phone towards him when you were sat on the sofa, showing him a picture of a random couple painting during a date. It was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that Oscar had apparently stored away in his mind.
“I suck at painting.” He said and it made you laugh. “But I thought this could be fun.”
“Oscar!” You didn’t even know what to say, staring wide eyed and speechless at the things sitting between you before moving your eyes up to him.
His cheeks went pink, bashful smile stretching his lips and you got up on your knees to smack a kiss to his mouth that he laughed into.
“We’re going to outshine Monet.” You said determinedly, sitting back down and grabbing your canvas.
The evening went on as the both of you painted, not very well but it was fun and prompted several fits of laughter from the both of you as you took occasional peeks at your paintings.
One too many gulps of fizzy champagne later and sandwiches eaten, the both of you found yourselves almost done with your pieces. You were sitting cross legged, face pinched in concentration and Oscar couldn’t help but sneak a picture on his phone; finding the sight of you all too endearing. You had a little paint on your cheek that you weren’t aware of, lips slightly pursed and Oscar couldn’t for the life of him stop staring at your exposed thighs. Your dress had ridden up, giving him an amazing view of your legs and he had to physically flex his fingers to keep from grabbing at them.
He cleared his throat and looked away, glancing up at the sky squinting. The sun had found its way behind some very dark clouds and he silently cursed the weather app for giving him false information because it looked like it was definitely going to rain.
“I think it’s gonna rain.” He said, absentmindedly voicing his thoughts out loud and you looked at him before glancing up at the sky.
You scrunched your nose before your face transformed into a smile that made your boyfriend’s heart skip. He squirmed.
“That’s okay.” You said slowly and put down your brush. “Because I... Am done.”
“Let’s see it then.” He grinned at the way you grabbed both sides of your canvas, revealing the other side slowly.
The splash of colour was pretty and it wasn’t hard to make out what it was supposed to be. A beach with a colourful sky consisting of pink, orange and even subtle red. Oscar nodded his head, visibly impressed and you smiled.
“That’s gorgeous, I don’t even wanna show mine now.” He said and you frowned.
“But I wanna see it.” You said, pushing yourself up a little to strain your neck.
But Oscar was quick to hide his canvas close to his chest which made you pout.
“No, it’s hideous.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes.
“Oscar!” You whined and it almost made him cave.
You realised fairly quickly that he wasn’t going to concede, so you put your canvas down and crawled on all fours over to his side of the blanket. He leaned back, smiling at your giggles until you were on top of him; The awkward angle sending you both into a fit of laughter.
“Is that a duck?” Your voice went high with laughter and Oscar sucked his cheeks into his mouth when you grabbed his canvas and took a look at it. “It’s so cute!”
“It’s —“
“It even has lashes!” You squinted your eyes at it and Oscar frowned.
“That’s eyebrows.” He said and you looked up at him, an apologetic smile playing on your lips.
“Oh.” You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth in a poor attempt to hide your laughter, but Oscar raised his eyebrows in mock insult and it made it harder. “Sorry.”
He wanted to open his mouth and feign insult, but the way you were chewing on your lip made it very hard to concentrate and he found himself getting distracted easier than he’d like to admit. The shine your saliva left had him craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, revelling in your surprised moan that you breathed into his mouth.
You tasted of fizzy champagne and sweet fruits, Oscar licking into your mouth and it made you squirm in his lap. He kissed you until you were out of breath, grabbing your sides and rolling the both of you around until he was straddling you. The squeal that left your lips made you both laugh and it didn’t stop when he struggled to get his canvas out from between your chests to throw it to the side. You blinked up at him slowly, and it was like he was stuck in a trance.
The first drop on your forehead was almost comical, and you thought that maybe he’d accidentally drooled on you for a second. But Oscar glanced up with a frown, just in time for the skies to open up and begin drizzling. Luckily, you found yourselves under the tree and that’s what made it so easy to dismiss the rain, grabbing the collar of Oscar’s shirt to redirect his gaze back to you.
“We’re gonna get si—“ He was interrupted by your lips, a small mmpfh being punched out of his chest and you were quick to swallow the noise, kissing him until the pink in his cheeks deepened to a pretty shade of red and his lips were kissed raw.
You loved the way he looked after a make out, with the dark eyes and the smatter of colour on his cheeks. It drove you further to mess his hair up and have him grinding down into you.
He wasn’t doing it yet, hips carefully held above you so he wouldn’t crush you with his weight but you wanted it. Craved it, even.
The rush of water coming down from the sky turned the air damp, clamming your already heated skin up and making it sticky. You let your thighs fall open in an obvious invitation, one that Oscar was too happy to accept when he slotted his hips against yours; Successfully pressing your crotches together. The weight of him was delicious, sparking something hot in your body that had you wrapping your legs around him to keep him close. You felt your foot knock something over, but you were too preoccupied with the way his lips were wandering to actually care.
He kissed wetly down your jaw, sucking insistently on your sensitive skin under your earlobe. You keened, hips jumping up into his in an attempt to grind your centre against him and Oscar quickly met you halfway, the hard bulge of him setting fireworks off in your chest.
“Oscar, please.” You gasped when he bit your throat. He hummed in acknowledgement, low and breathless. “Need more.”
He detached his lips from your neck, glancing around as if he was keeping an eye out for someone and you took that moment to take in his face. The pout of his lips and the width of his neck that you were dying to mark up with your mouth. The sight of it always did things to you, so much so that there had been several occasions where you went a little overboard and sent him on his way to the paddock with a bruised up neck and a blush dancing on his cheeks. He never really protested though, so you didn’t stop.
“Out here?” He asked, looking down at you and you nodded shyly. “Really?”
You turned your head to stare off into the distance, thinking that there was no way anyone was frolicking anywhere near you in this weather. And if there were people around, it was almost impassible to spot the two of you with the way the rain was coming down incredibly heavy. It was hard to see past a few metres and the grass was high enough to hide you both from any prying eyes.
In the meantime your thoughts had calculated the very low risk of being caught, Oscar had begun his ascent up your thighs with his hands, pulling the hem of your dress up in the process. His eyes were fastened on you, wanting to catch every micro expression on your face the higher he went up.
Your mouth opened in a quiet exhale when his hands touched your clothed pussy, thighs trembling when his finger ran over the nub of your clit. Oscar’s heart was beating fast, emotion and adoration gripping his heart in a vice when you looked up at him through your lashes.
You hadn’t dated for that long, but he’d memorised every single expression on your face, along with their meaning. He prided himself in how well he could read you, and he felt just a little smug whenever you brought it up. There was always a bit of wonder in your eyes and surprise in your voice when he said something that you didn’t expect him to remember. Like you never had anyone in your life to pay close attention to you, or even care to and it made him sad because how could they not?
You had somehow managed to become his entire world in the span of a few months and he intended to keep you happier than the average person.
That’s why he didn’t wait to pull your panties to the side when you whispered a small plea, sounding a lot like please, fully zoned in on making you feel as good as possible.
“Oh, shit.” You swore and Oscar hid a smile by hanging his head to stare between your legs instead.
You never swore in daily conversation, but boy, did you turn into a sailor when he was between your thighs.
“My pretty girl.” He complimented you, voice quiet but loud enough to overpower the sound of the downpour.
You smiled shakily, lip wobbling in pure pleasure when he swiped his fingers between your slick folds to wet them. Oscar circled your clit a few times, pulling some moans from your lips and he kept his eyes on your shiny bottom lip as he located your hole and pushed a finger inside.
He groaned around an exhale at the tightness of you, your warmth enveloping his fingers beautifully as he tested the waters. He must’ve deemed you ready for a second digit, sliding it inside alongside the first and watching you squirm atop the blanket.
“God, your fingers.” You bit your lip when his thumb joined in, rubbing your clit just the way he knew you liked it. “Like magic.”
It took everything in your boyfriend not to smile proudly and puff his chest out. It always made him preen when you complimented him while you were lost in the moment, and he knew that a big part of him needed and wanted your validation.
Oscar listened to your whines and moans, bending his head down to press small and fleeting kisses to your clammy skin. Your chest was heaving as he kissed you between your breasts, feeling his own breathing go heavy when you arched your back and stuck your chest out. Like you wanted him to touch you there. And really, who was he to say no when you begged so prettily?
The neckline of your dress was thankfully very stretchy, allowing your boyfriend to pull the material down enough to expose your chest to his eyes. You weren't wearing a bra, something he’d noticed on the car ride over here when the AC had been blasting cold air and tightened your nipples. He hadn’t said anything then but his cock had stirred in interest at the sight.
He moaned almost depravingly when he got his mouth around your nipple, licking and sucking on it until your walls were clenching around his moving fingers. He gave the other the same treatment before deciding that he’d waited enough, moving down your body while his other unoccupied hand bunched up the fabric of your dress over your stomach.
You were dripping wet, slick sliding down his hands and presumably messing up the blanket underneath you and Oscar had to bring a hand down to squeeze around his cock. The sight of you under him with your legs bent and wide open was something he’d take a mental photo of, storing it away in his mind for his loneliest nights.
“Fuck,” he swore, shuffling further down so he was face to face with where you needed him the most. He gave you a sucking kiss on the inside of your thigh and you whined. “You smell so good, baby.”
That had you squirming self-consciously, bringing your hands up to hide your face. Your mouth opened against the palm of your hand when you felt his tongue swipe between his fingers messily, like he was tasting you and you bit down on your hand to stop the inevitable moan from tumbling out.
“Oscar.” You pleaded with him and the next swipe came almost immediately, like he didn’t want to keep you waiting.
Oscar was as talented as they came, when it came to his hands and how to use them. The way the both of you had learned each other’s bodies was admirable, and Oscar had really learnt it well. He knew what made you tick, what made you throw your head back and scream out blasphemous words that had him smirking.
It wasn’t a surprise, really, when he took you to newer highs in record speed. With the aid of his fingers and mouth, he managed to pull out your first orgasm that sent your head spinning right into the gutter. Your thighs closed around his head, turning your head to the sky as you cried out your climax.
Oscar withdrew his fingers from the tight grip of your pussy, but he didn’t stop licking gently as you slowly came down from your high. He kept his eyes on you, enjoying the tremble in your legs around him and the occasional hitch in your breath.
He couldn’t see your face, it being turned to the sky still, but he watched your throat bob before finally looking down at him with a dazed look on your face. Your body jerked when he tongued across your clit, hand shooting down to his hair to grip it loosely.
“That was…” You trailed off, still out of breath and tongue thick in your mouth but Oscar grinned like you’d handed him the stars and moon.
“Another one?” He asked, almost hopefully and you gave him a look of slight disbelief.
You laughed with a nod, trying not to flush warmth when he tilted his head back to wipe at his wet mouth with the back of his hand. He looked so casual, but the sight of it made your entire being turn fire hot. Even more so when he pressed a few absentminded kisses to your thighs before going right back in, working you with his tongue until the initial sensitivity faded off to the background and brought forth a second wave of pleasure.
Oscar’s jaw was starting to ache, but you were grasping at his hair and scratching his scalp so pleasantly that he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He needed you to come again, needed to taste more of you because he couldn’t have enough. So, he upped the ante and focused on your clit, laving his tongue over it and pursing his lips to suck it into his mouth.
He was almost disappointed when your moans started turning high pitched, thighs clenching tightly around his head because he wanted it to go on for longer. But he couldn’t be too sad about it when you sounded the way you did, so breathless and lost to the world.
There was no doubt that anyone could’ve heard you if it weren’t for the rain, the way you were moaning and cursing. It made Oscar smug, but also so fucking hard that he had to reach his hand down to fish himself out of his pants, almost moaning into your pussy when his hand closed around his length.
It really wouldn’t take long for him to come, already feeling sensitive to his touch as he jacked himself off.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cussed suddenly in one drawn out breath, hips arching up into his mouth as you groaned out your second orgasm.
The hitches in your breaths as the orgasm rolled through you made Oscar squeeze himself and it was when you pushed his head off of you with your hand that he hurriedly sat up, getting so dizzy from the sudden movement that he almost went teetering to the side. You hadn’t realised that he was taking care of himself until you caught sight of his hand, peering at him through hooded eyelids as he groaned low in his throat and aimed between your legs, coming with a jump of his hips.
It made you clench around nothing. The sight of him throwing his head back, hair damp and floppy as he sucked air into his lungs. He gave off a full body shiver, sitting back on his heels with a deep sigh.
“That was new.” You said around a smile, making him look down at you. His cheeks went pink, smile a little shy and you grabbed his arm to pull him down so you could kiss his smiling mouth.
“I hope that was okay.” He whispered against your lips and you gave him a slow nod.
“More than okay.” You glanced down between you two, pulling a slight grimace at your soiled underwear. “Need to get those off though.”
Oscar laughed and sat up, reaching for tissues while you did your best to pull your panties down your legs. You let them drop to the side, cheeks warm at the sight of both your spend on the wet material.
“Do you reckon it’s better to wait the rain out?” Oscar asked casually as he pried your legs apart, gently cleaning you up.
You glanced around, noting that while it was still raining, it seemed to let up quite a bit and you figured that it wouldn’t take long before it ceased completely. It was a trek back to the car and you honestly didn’t think that your legs could work for the next half hour anyway.
Oscar threw away the soiled tissues and grabbed your legs, pulling you closer to him until you got the memo and moved to snuggle up into his side. He pulled you in, burying his face in your hair with a sated sigh.
“Probably best to wait it out.” You replied belatedly. “I don’t mind sitting here with you.”
Oscar hid a smile in your hair.
“Me neither.” He murmured against your temple.
He’d sit around here forever if it meant spending time with you.
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savingcrxws · 9 months
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eyes on fire | carmen berzatto headcanon
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carmen berzatto x ex!reader (but not for long...)
warnings. language, mentions of suicide & death (mikey)
authors note. thinking of turning this into a fic but i just wanted to get these thoughts thrown onto a page for now | EDIT 7/7: ITS A FIC! HERES PART ONE
you hated carmen berzatto, to say the least
you had been each others first s/o and spent a lot of the end of your teenage years attached at the hip
every berzatto family function (no matter how messy they always ended), every school dance, every hell's kitchen rerun--you and carmy were together
mikey liked to call you guys soulmates, watching how you and carmy just seemed to click like that- a statement that never failed to make carmy go flush in the face (que richie faking barfing in the background)
you were one of the first people that carmen told about his wishes for the future-how he wanted to take up the restaurant with his brother and continue the berzatto tradition
you loved the way his eyes lit up when he talked about cooking with his family-the way he gave his all into his aspirations
"well you gotta make sure i'm the first one to eat those fancy sounding dishes when you start working at the beef, carm"
"absolutely, babe. i wouldn't have it any other way"
however, like everyone after high school, you and carmy hit a rough patch that sunk your relationship -- you were planning to go to college for business administration and carmy was leaving chicago to go to culinary school
you two definitely attempted everything in your power to stay together-late night skype calls, daily texts, hell you even offered to fly to new york to spend time together
but the more swamped you got with school and the more carmen got slammed with cooking (especially right before he went of to Noma), the more the truth begun to show itself
the breakup was messy, because it was less a breakup and more of ...
you: what are we doing right now? like, as a couple?
carmen: i think that i need to focus more on my career right now
you: oh, so..are we breaking up right now? (read 9:57PM)
you: carmen? (read 10:15)
you: ok, asshole, be that way (delivered)
that's right, that motherfucker ghosted you
despite the tumultuous ending of you and carmen's relationship, you were still close to sugar and mikey (and, unfortunately for you, richie)
sugar was adamant on flying over to copenhagen and have a "conversation" with her brother herself + mikey and richie were not too far behind on the cause
"it's fine guys. let's just all agree that carmen is a soft little bitch" you said, trying to lighten the mood even though you knew that you were still racking thru the pain being broken up with so suddenly
you deal with the breakup harshly at first, but you put a lot of that emotion towards your own growth
fast forward a couple years, you graduated college and are on the up-and-up in chicago as a successful business marketing manager
you get closer to the berzattos, strangely, as carmy gets more distant
you don't think of carmy much anymore but it grows harder as he wins awards and recognitions in his field that honestly make you..proud, in strange way
then, mikey dies...and a lot of things change for you
you help sugar and richie plan the funeral, and something sour sinks into your stomach when you don't see that familiar head of dirty blonde hair during the service
some months pass and you try to gather yourself and get back to normal after mikey's passing
richie invites you down to the beef one day to "catch up" randomly
you go, if not to just see tina and the rest of the crew but are met with great surprise when you see him
carmen motherfucking berzatto, in the flesh, standing behind the bar yelling to richie about something nonsensical
he stops yelling when he hears the door open and literally freezes in place when he sees you
you stare at him for a second, taking in the man who once had your heart, noting the new tattoos and the new way he styled his hair and he seems to be doing the same
then, richie breaks the silence--"oh my goodness, what are you doing here, sweetheart?"
you and carmy speak at the same time
"richie, you motherfucker"
"richie, you dick"
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I know you can be louder than that (Lucifer)
BIG warnings for this one guys! Major NSFW! Minors, Do NOT Interact! Warnings: FEM!AFAB MC, Semi public sex, voyeurism. Lucifer uses MC to punish his brothers, mentions of pact use.
Summary: Lucifer's had a helluva week, his brothers have done nothing but contribute to the chaos. MC's been doing her best to help, but maybe he's got one more use for his favourite human.
Lucifer is tired.
This is not news, he's a hardworking demon with enough on his plate on a good day to make lesser demons buckle, but this week had been...hellish, for lack of a better word.
The prince has been swamped with extra requests from the house of lords, which means Lucifer has been swamped with Student Council papers which would otherwise be Diavolo's workload, as well as his regular duties, and on top of that, his brothers have wrought absolute havoc.
Asmodeus started an internet fight with some important modelling agency which needed smoothing over, Belphie missed roughly 80% if his classes this week, Beel caused damages in three separate restaurants after eating their entire stock, and of course Mammon sold one of Lucifer's cursed records.
Lucifer hasn't even had the time to track the record down again and punish his brother properly because he's so swamped, and his only saving grace-
"Can I come in?"
MC pops her head in, having knocked gently at the door, a wrapped package tucked under her arm and a steaming mug balanced carefully in her hand.
She's giving him that look, the look of a woman who knows he's overworked and stressed and wishing he could do literally anything else.
"That depends, have you more news of my brothers causing further damage to our reputation?" Lucifer huffed, to which MC chuckled.
"Your brothers are in the dining room, doing their damned homework and student council papers that they've neglected lately." MC explained, handing him the mug of steaming coffee and sliding the slim package onto his desk.
"And how in the Devildom did you manage that?"
MC chuckled and perched herself on the edge of his desk beside him, her leg brushing his. She met his gaze, and her eyes swam with the colours of his brother's magics. She's used her pacts.
Rarely does MC use those pacts to get the brothers to do anything, more often she can talk them into behaving, but she's been stretched just as thin as Lucifer trying to keep things under control.
Lucifer chuckled, his gaze alight with pride in his little human's use of her power and sipped his coffee before drawing his attention to the envelope. "And this?"
MC watched him open it with eager eyes as he slid the missing record from its case. "That was harder to track down than I thought it would be. Mammon gave the buyer back their grimm."
"You are a wonder, MC." Lucifer couldn't help but grin, inspecting the record for damage. It was still in immaculate condition, a trace of her magic still clinging to it protectively. He slid out from behind his desk and slid the record back into its rightful place on the shelves of his office attached to the library.
He looked back at his desk, the pile of papers still awaiting him, and the smiling human perched beside it, smiling at him, legs dangling over the edge of his desk.
He stepped closer, and MC spread her legs to let him step between her thighs, his gloved hand sliding over her cheek, smiling as she leaned into him.
MC's hands slid up his chest, settling around his neck to play with the hair at the back of his neck. "What do you need from me, Luci?"
His heart swelled, cold and unfeeling as it had once been. Dear human, who already does so much for his family, whose absence he's convinced would spell the end of the world.
Lucifer's hands slid to her hips, drawing her closer. What does he need?
He needs those papers to disappear, he needs his brothers to learn their place, he needs a damned break, but none of that could happened-
Or maybe it could.
MC arched a brow as the demon's eyes damned near lit up, and his magic reached out, pulling his office door open. She thought he'd ask her to leave, but instead, Lucifer came down upon her with a passion, his lips crashing into hers in a searing kiss as he stole the breath from her lungs.
He pushed her down until she was flat on his desk, stationary and papers shoved carelessly aside. More work for later? Perhaps, but he's got something else on his mind now.
Lucifer nipped at her lower lip, smirking at the quiet whimper she let free. "Correct me if I'm wrong, my darling, but my idiot brothers are all gathered in the dining room, correct?"
"Yes..."
"And they cannot leave without your permission, correct?"
MC gulped, realising what he was getting at, why he'd opened the door...the other 6 have only the library between them, and the doors are all open.
"Lucifer-ah!"
The first born dove for her neck, one hand nimbly unbuttoning her shirt, exposing her soft skin as sharp teeth nipped marks into her delicate skin.
The material of his gloves raised gooseflesh in his wake as he cupped her breast and squeeze, thumb and forefinger gently tugging at her sensitive nipple as the cold air greeted her.
MC whined, tangling her fingers in the demon's hair, her nails gently scraping against his scalp as he shoved his hips forward, grinding against her clothed heat.
"Lucifer, they'll hear!"
"You're damned right they will." He growled against her skin, nipping at the shell of her ear, smattering hungry kisses against her skin. "They've acted like menaces all week, they deserve punishment in kind."
MC would have laughed at the pettiness of Lucifer's actions if not for the sight of him pulling off his gloves with his teeth, his gaze dark with lust as heat shot down her centre and she squirmed against the desk.
This was out of character, for Lucifer to flaunt her so to his own brothers, but perhaps the stress of the week had piled up enough. He needs a release, and he's chosen her.
His bare fingers were cold against her hips as he pulled at her waistband, demanding she lift her hips while never forcing her. She could always stop him, if she wished.
MC lifted her hips for him to slide her leggings down her legs, reaching hungrily for him, but Lucifer took her hands and guided them to her knees, his eyes on her quickly wettening centre.
"Hold yourself open for me, love..." The Avatar of Pride dropped to his knees, sinking his teeth into her soft thigh, driving another whine from her lips as he dragged a finger through her glistening folds.
Lucifer wasn't one for teasing, not when he knows what he wants, but he paused barely an inch away from her heat. "May I, my darling?"
"Yes, please...Lucifer!" She gasped and arched as he dove forward, licking a long stripe from her entrance to her pearl, collecting her wetness on his tongue before circling her clit with confident strokes.
Saccharine moans tumbled from her lips, clinging to the backs of her knees, keeping herself open for him as Lucifer suckled at her clit.
She felt the tug at her magic, the brothers had noticing something was off.
As if Lucifer had sensed the shift in her magic, he licked more firmly, lightly dragging his teeth over her sensitive skin, drawing a muffled yelp from MC as she struggled to keep hold of those leashes. "Luci-I can't-"
"You can hold them." He filled his palms with the globes of her ass, yanking her closer to him so he could gorge himself properly. "And I know you can be louder than that."
MC's eyes went wide, but the demon buries his face in her cunt and shoves his tongue inside her, curling it just right and she sang for him, her voice flowing free as she forced her will behind her magic and slammed down on the pacts. Those brothers had driven her mad all week, she wasn't above petty revenge.
Pride surged in Lucifer's chest as he wrapped an arm around her trembling thigh, fingers toying with her clit as his tongue plunged in and out of her heat, his own desire restricted by his trousers as he chased the pleasure out of her, relishing every cry that fell from her lips, every shiver and whine.
His brothers could hear, his phone was exploding in his pocket, and Lucifer was glad of it, they got to hear what they could not have. He couldn't think of a better punishment.
Her walls quivered around his tongue, close to her end, and with his eyes he demanded she be loud, and his dear, sweet, reliable human delivered.
She tumbled over the edge, practically wailing his name and other pornographic noises and she tumbled over the edge, her slick wetting Lucifer's chin as he drove her through her orgasm.
"Don't relax too much, my darling. My brothers haven't been punished enough."
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cuubism · 5 months
Text
part 3 of hob encountering dream outside their meetings (except there are 4 total parts now, lol)
--
Something, Hob thinks, somewhere between his third and fourth glass of whiskey, is terribly wrong.
In another life, he thinks, he would have wandered home drunk, morose, aimless, bereft of his strange patron—Dream—and sure he’d screwed it up. If you come, we must be friends. Well, there’s your answer, Hob.
In this life…
Dream gave his word. And… he is so serious, he is so austere, Hob does not think he is the type to break a promise.
I hope you’re alright out there, he thinks as he gets home to his flat, drunk, but not as much as he really wants to be.
Where is he, anyway? Why wouldn’t he show?
Despair over the matter tries to swamp him, but Hob pushes it aside. Dream. He has his name. Maybe he can find him?
He had never tried in the years since their happenstance meeting during the war. Had wanted to, on and off, but had respected his friend’s wishes on the matter. He had a promise to meet again, after all. That was enough for now. They had eternity.
Tomorrow he can go to the library. Maybe he’ll be able to find something in all those books of history and mythology, if his stranger is a god, like to appear there.
It’s a chance.
--
For days Hob studies, and mulls, and finds very little. His friend’s name is too common a word to easily search, and likewise too obscure to find in any mythology texts. Hob makes little progress, but he thinks on him more and more. Dream is in his mind like a waking nightmare; Hob keeps going back to his little shy smile on their parting outside the cafe.
He wouldn’t just not show up. He wouldn’t.
And then, several weeks into this obsessive spiral, Hob dreams of him.
--
Hob is sitting across from his friend, the setting vague, dark, he can’t make it out. Dream is cross-legged in a meditative pose, a loose robe draped around him, and he looks… gaunt. Tired. Hob remembers looking like that himself, during the darker periods of his life, but he would never have expected Dream to break his marble composure.
“Hob,” he says, with some surprise. Blinks starry, dark eyes. “You have been thinking on me very intently, indeed.”
“Of course,” Hob says. Wants to reach out to him but senses, somehow, that it wouldn’t be possible. “Where—”
“Time is brief,” interrupts Dream. Hob is not certain he even heard Hob speak; perhaps whatever this is is a one-way transmission, a message. “My power is contained; this is but a spare moment of luck and coincidence. I owe you much for breaking my vow to you—”
You don’t, Hob thinks, you don’t—
“—But instead I must make a request. As… friends.” He speaks the word as something still unfamiliar and rare. “Find Alex Burgess. Find me. Anything you desire, if it is in my power, in return.”
What an absolutely bizarre way of asking for help. Then again, it is his old stranger speaking. Hob should expect no less.
What kind of mess has he gotten himself into that kept him away from their meeting? What kind of mess could such a being get into?
“I will,” Hob swears. “I will. I won’t leave you alone.”
His friend’s gaze bores into his, glittering like the night sky.
“Hob,” he says, voice resonant and echoing, “be cautious.”
--
Hob wakes, tacky with sweat, shivers running up his spine. Dream, he thinks, scrubbing a hand through the mess of his hair. Dreams. Fuck. Was it real? It must have been. Dreams.
In the manner of dreams, much of the detail is hazing out, leaving only the strange echo of his friend’s voice, his starry eyes, a name to find, and a warning:
Be cautious.
Yeah, fuck that.
Dream never asks for help, at least not from Hob, though Hob privately doubts he asks for it from anyone. He hardly even shares mundane details of his life. Whatever scrape he’s gotten into now, it must be monumentally terrible to push him to do so.
Hob won’t leave him there.
Alex Burgess, his friend had said. That’s not much, but it’s a start.
--
Hob had found nothing using Dream’s name, but once he has Alex Burgess’s, it’s shockingly easy. He puts the pieces together in less than a week, and finds himself stewing in anger as a result. How had nobody done anything? Granted, nobody knew who his friend was, but as far as he’s managed to gather, plenty of people had seen him over the years. Nobody had stepped up?
Maybe, deep down, Hob is truly just angry with himself. He should have done something. Somehow, someway. For fuck’s sake, Hob had seen his stranger in 1915, less than a year—if the rumors are to be believed—before he disappeared. 
Shouldn’t he have known? Somehow? Some time before their scheduled meeting?
Nothing for it now. Nothing for it but to get him back.
--
For lack of very much ability to make a plan without blueprints or inside knowledge, Hob ends up throwing caution to the wind and simply breaking into the manor. Fuck those people. Hob has killed men before and he will again, and he doesn’t expect to feel sorry about it.
These are not innocent men, after all. And neither is Hob.
But he does heed Dream’s warning to some extent, only out of concern for Dream himself. Hob cannot afford to get knocked out or killed—temporary though it may be—when he has someone to rescue. 
To that effect, he leashes his fury long enough to break into the Burgess manor via a side door, rather than simply breaking down the front door as he’d really like to; he holds his anger by the collar long enough to catch a passing guard around the throat and demand, in a terse whisper, where the door to the basement is, and then knock the guard out and shove him into a coat closet; he tempers his rage long enough to crack open the basement door with a key stolen from the guard’s belt, to creep down the stone steps, to step out into the cavernous room. 
And then—
—it’s impossible for Hob to hold back his anger then.
But his instincts don’t let him slow long enough to taste it. Hob has not been a soldier for a long time, but the instincts—the instincts never disappear.
He knocks out one guard with the butt of his gun before the man can even grab his own weapon, then he levels it at the other, whose hands vacillate between surrender and fight. 
“I would think very hard about what you’re about to do,” Hob growls, and clicks back the hammer on his revolver.
Apparently, whatever unbridled fury the guard sees in Hob’s eyes is more frightening than the punishment his employer will dish out. He raises his hands in surrender, dropping his gun. 
Hob stalks over to him and, though the man raises a hand and shouts, “Wait!”, knocks him out cold as well. 
He grits his teeth, forcibly loosening his grip on the gun, and then, only then, does he let himself turn properly to Dream.
And his heart fucking… breaks.
Hob’s old stranger has always been a regal person. No matter the era, no matter how grimy the White Horse was when they met, no matter on what street Hob ran into him—he has always carried himself like royalty.
He still does, now, but by God is Burgess trying to break him of it.
Dream sits cross-legged in the same meditative pose as in Hob’s dream, but this time he is unclothed. Hob doubts that he subscribes to the same strict notions of modesty as human society, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still a violation.
Worse still is the cage. Small, tight, exposed on all sides—his friend is such a private person, Hob hadn’t even gotten a name out of him for five hundred years. This is— this is—
It makes him so incredibly angry.
Dream stares at him with wide eyes. He looks from Hob to the downed guards and back, his muscles tense, spine still rigid. He looks… malnourished, and Hob wonders if it’s truly due to lack of food, or more to lack of freedom.
“Hob Gadling,” he finally murmurs, voice muffled through the glass. “You received my message. I was not certain I’d managed enough power to get it through. I had but a short dream in which to try.”
“Yes.” Hob strides across the room to him quickly, steps and voice echoing strangely in the crypt-like, musty cellar. “I heard you.”
“And you came.”
Hob huffs, crouching down by the glass cage, examining it for rivets or seals or anything that could be cracked open. “No need to sound so surprised.”
“You are angry,” says Dream, watching him intently, delicate hands balanced on delicate knees.
“Yeah, not at you, though.” Hob groans in frustration. “Any way to break this thing open other than shooting at it?”
“Break the circle.” He points to the ring of symbols on the floor. “And I will be able to help you.”
Hob drags the sole of his shoe viciously through the paint. It’s so gratifying to watch it scrape off. Dream shudders, eyes falling shut, and then goes taut, each muscle in relief. Strength comes back to him, power shimmers over his skin. Hob lays a hand on the glass and finds it humming at higher and higher frequency, like the air inside is vibrating, suffused with power it can’t contain.
He jumps back just in time.
The glass shatters into a thousand pieces with a high ringing sound and a flash of bright light. Hob covers his eyes.
When he opens them again, Dream is delicately climbing out of the metal frame of the sphere, his power returned, each step measured and controlled. He looks more otherworldly than Hob’s ever seen him, hair standing on end, his gaze sharp and predatory. But his eyes soften when they land on Hob.
Hob rushes over to offer his arm, and Dream grips it for balance as he picks his way through the glass. Once he’s on safer ground, Hob offers him his coat, and Dream wraps it around his bare shoulders, eyes sparkling with a tiny smile like he finds Hob’s attempts at chivalry amusing.
“Are you okay?” Hob asks, then shakes his head. “Stupid question. What do you need, my friend?”
“I am free,” says Dream. Under his usual stoicism there is a hint of awe. “You have done more than enough, Hob. I thank you.”
“At least let me help you get out of here,” Hob says. He’s still worried that Dream might be hurt, or weakened from his imprisonment, even if he’s standing on his own feet now. “Can get you something to eat, or…?”
Dream looks into the distance, as if seeing, or hearing something Hob can’t. “I’m afraid I have much to attend to. My realm calls me. I have been away a long time.”
Because he’s been imprisoned for a long time. Jesus Christ.
Hob doubts he’ll be able to convince Dream to stay, or rest or anything else. His friend is stubborn, and too proud for such things, he thinks. “Still. If you need help with anything…”
“I require my tools,” Dream says, and Hob straightens up. “But I would not task you with such a thing. They are no longer in this manor and I fear there may be danger involved in retrieving them.”
Hey, Hob thinks, with some indignation. I can handle some danger, thanks very much.
“But first, I have other business to attend to,” Dream continues. His eyes flick upward at the sleeping manor inhabitants on the floors above. “You will face no resistance in leaving.” He turns his gaze briefly to Hob, eyes softening in gratitude. “Fare well, Hob. I shall not forget this.”
Then he turns to go, darkness swirling around him.
“Wait!” Hob grabs his arm. Dream looks down at his hand, but doesn’t pull away. “Will you come back? I— I want to make sure you’re alright.”
Dream’s lips tip up in a half smile. “I will be alright once I have returned to my realm, and regathered my tools. But. Very well. I will come to see you, once I have finished that business. Thank you, Hob.”
And then he’s gone from under Hob’s hand, gone into the night, and Hob sighs, alone in the quiet basement. But really, he shouldn’t have expected anything else.
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astarion-obsessions · 6 months
Text
I have a fic idea floating around in my head after I read a dialogue from Astarion I didn't come across in my playthrough:
Spoilers for Astarion's story and romance ahead!
"Once, in the first decade of my slavery, I found a darling boy who I couldn't bear to bring back to him. So I ran, instead of hurting that sweet man. After Cazador caught me, the bastard sealed me, starving, inside a dusty tomb, all on my own, for an entire year. A year of silence. Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out. More months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death. So don't you ever judge me for doing what Cazador ordered. Nothing can make up for that. Not even Cazador's death."
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And this hit me really hard, like, I can't even begin to imagine what bottomless desperation and hopelessness Astarion must have felt.
So, I have an idea for a fic with a monster hunter Tav, who is the very boy Astarion has saved back then. And I'm being realistic, I will probably never write this fic, so I thought I would share my idea with you guys at least. So here it is:
Tav is this exact darling boy, all grown up now. Astarion sees the resemblance at first sight but he's changed so much that he tells himself that it's not him, it's not the man from almost 200 years ago. When Tav tells his name, Astarion is somewhat relieved. The man he spared all those decades ago had another name. He's been called "xxx" not Tav. The resemblance of their names Astarion chooses to ignore. Because Tav doesn't seem to know him at all according to his behaviour.
Only when Tav introduces himself with his full name, Astarion is hit full force with the now undeniable realisation that this is indeed the man he's refused to bring back to Cazador. Suddenly he feels like the young vampire spawn again, who didn't know what horrors would await him after this fateful rebellious act. How he would suffer just because he wanted to spare this man's life.
But why hasn't he said something? Astarion hasn't changed since then, even without a reflection he is absolutely sure of that, so Tav must have recognised him the second he saw him. So why?
Then it dawns on him. He's forgotten. Tav simply doesn't remember him anymore. Why would he? It's centuries ago. Even for an elf this would feel like a lifetime ago and they've never met again. He was just a fleeting, irrelevant occurrence of an almost deadly night for him, nothing more. And Astarion doesn't even think of reminding him. What purpose would it serve?
Yet, in the days to follow Astarion can't help himself but think about it every time his gaze so much as brushes the figure of their party's de facto leader.
He's seduced him once, he could very well do so a second time. After all, he needs his protection secured. And so he casually asks to everybody around for whom a loved one waits at home. None for Tav, as far as Astarion interprets his silence to this topic.
But then, when they encounter the Gur in the swamp, Tav reveals that he's a Gur friend and also a monster hunter. He greets Gandrel as an old friend and assures him that he will be back in town for sure. But when Gandrel tells Tav why he is there, mentioning the missing children and him hunting a vampire called Astarion… Tav reacts as if he's never heard of him.
Astarion is completely baffled and can't decide what to feel, what to do. He's anxious because of the Gur hunting him, having expected for Tav to just turn him in, but he didn't and now Astarion is anxious and utterly confused. He feels like a helpless animal, trapped in a corner, about to lash out, do anything and everything to be safe.
They part ways with the Gur, wishing him well, and then there's silence. Smothering, deafening silence. Astarion doesn't dare to ask. Ask why he's covered him up. Ask if he remembers. Ask anything at all. Because he's afraid. So so afraid. And if this encounter has taught him anything, it is that he will never be safe, never be free as long as Cazador lives.
Now he needs Tav on his side more than ever. He could ensure his protection against the other Gur. Astarion won't be having one second of peace before this is sorted out, but he doesn't know what to do. Maybe Tav just wants to turn Astarion in himself? Maybe that's why he's never said anything about remembering him. Because he was laying low, waiting for the right moment to strike and take him back to his master. To the very man Astarion has spared him all these years ago.
Perhaps this is what he gets for saving a monster hunter. The very embodiment of a vampire's fiend.
What he doesn't know is that Tav became a monster hunter shortly after the tragic night he met Astarion. But not to hunt the spawns, but to hunt the ones who made them what they were. To hunt power hungry vampire lords. Just that Cazador had been too mighty for a rookie like Tav back then. So he learned. He fought. He hunted. To make a difference to spawns like Astarion.
When they settle down for the night, Astarion's mind is racing. He is sure that Tav will now make him his prey. Astarion needs to act. Fast. He volunteers to keep watch in the first shift- and Tav joins him.
They haven't talked directly to each other since before the Gur, and Astarion is still a nervous wreck, but tries to pull himself together. He chooses to overlook the fact that Tav very well knows what he is, be it since the Gur or - let's be realistic - since the first time they've met outside the nautiloid, and reveals to him that he is a vampire.
Tav already knows this and says so. He reveals that he's known since they met… 200 years ago. So there it is. The proof that he indeed remembers Astarion, he just hasn't said anything because he wasn't sure Astarion remembered him. How could he not? He was a gorgeous sweet boy, one that Astarion might have been seriously interested in… in another life.
Tav tells Astarion that he didn't see him for what he was right away, but their first encounter weighed so heavy on his chest, that he couldn't stop thinking about it. He met some Gur back then, who came around a lot, so they talked about anything and everything. When the Gur mentioned why he was in Baldur's Gate, it hit Tav like a brick to the face. He saw the connection to the night with Astarion clearly, and that's when he knew Astarion was a vampire. Most likely a spawn.
Tav recognised that the Gur had a very… one-sided opinion of vampires and their spawns. But now Tav could put two and two together and guess what Astarion had done for him. He's spared him.
After this crucial realisation Tav had searched for clues, hints, anything that would lead him to Astarion. He would hunt every now and then, wouldn't he? But after almost a year of nothing but a name - Cazador - Tav decided to move on, fearing that Astarion had just vanished.
But even so, their night together has influenced Tav to an extent he didn't know was possible. He had wanted to see the world, to experience its wonders. His tribe had warned him that it was a cruel world, but Tav heard its calling and couldn't just ignore it. And yet, no words could have prepared him for what he had found.
But now that they found each other again, Tav is determined to help him, and Astarion finds himself in a storm of feelings. Would things truly turn to his favor? Could he really dare to let the hope sprout once again after all these hopeless, horrifying years of abuse and domination?
Astarion had learned quickly - and painfully - just what it means to grant himself the luxury of something delusional like hope. But maybe this time he truly has the chance to defy the odds…
Will Tav stand by his side? Will Astarion overcome the demons of his past and find his true self? Will Astarion and Tav work out what they mean to one another on the way? It's a journey with twists and turns and a future utterly uncertain…
Let me know what you think! Maybe I'll get motivated enough to start writing this fic if some people are interested in this scenario...
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tan1shere · 2 months
Note
Okay I am obsessed with film wife! Can you do like a fight imagine? Maybe the reader and Miko get into a huge argument but have to act like everything is okay to everyone else. (With whatever ending you choose) I just wonder how she’d be in an argument.
Make it up to you
Young Miko x Female reader !
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A/n: at your service 😌 enjoy everyone !!
Summary: you both work alot, but Miko has been taking some time off, to have a break. Not for the best reasons. So when you ask nicely the morning before the incident, to do some things around your shared apartment and come back to them not been done. All hell breaks loose. But don't worry she will make it up to you ;)
Warnings: angst, smut, so mdni. Fingering (r!receiving) bathtub sex ?? Mentions of drinking, fair warning I do not speak Spanish so there probably won't be anything in here apart from some names 🙃
Masterlist
She's coming through the door. She had been drinking, you could smell the tangy stench from your stance in the living room, of your small apartment you and Miko shared.
Later that morning
"Hey, do you think you can do a few things for me while I'm at work?" You ask the silvery blonde sitting on the couch, watching TV. She hums. "Miko?" As you say that she looks at you. But briefly. "Yeah yeah sure, whatever you need baby." You put your shoes on. "Just the dishes and the laundry thats piling up in the wash house." You grab your keys, but not before giving her a kiss goodbye. "Please do those things I asked." You smile at her sweetly, she nods in return.
"This is the 4th night in a row you've been out." You speak dryly. You dunno what's gotten into her but she's spiraling. "So what." She shrugs, closing the door and beginning to take off her shoes. "María." Oh she's fucked. "What the hell is up with you, do enlighten me because I'm getting sick of this behavior." She scoffs. "What are you my mother." You furrow your brows at that statement. "I'm swamped with so much shit at work the least you could do is tidy up a bit around here. In our home." She doesn't say anything. You go closer to her. "Baby just tell me what's bothering y-" She looks at you with anger. "You wanna know why I've been out drinking huh? Why I'm taking a break from work. I have absolutely no motivation and all I feel like doing is nothing." She spat, stomping closer to you. You back up a bit confused by this sudden behavior. "And I don't need you nagging me to do stuff all the god damn fucking time." You stare at her. "There's no. Need to take it out on me." She rolls her eyes. "That's the thing. I want to take it out on you. You're infuriating."
Shock. Disbelief. Did she really just say that. Your face softens, you slowly look down. "Maybe you should be the one made to do the dishes." She pokes your shoulder making you move it slightly, grabbing onto it. Feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You wanted to say something, but you just couldn't. So instead you go into your guys room, letting them slowly fall as you grab her pillow and chuck it at her. "You're a fucking asshole." You look at her with the tears streaming down. She's fucked up big time. And she realizes in that moment. "Bab-" But you don't hear it as you slam the door in her face. Curling up on the bed. All you wanted was something nice to come home to. Come home to your loving girlfriend to have some time with her, coming back to a nice clean apartment. After an awful day at your boring job.
But there was none of that. None of her at all. You came home to a mess, making your stress levels increase, making you stress more to find she wasn't even home to greet you. She was out drinking like some old man, who was wishing his life away. That's not Miko. At all. You didn't want to think any longer, bringing the sheets over your body. Crying yourself to sleep.
You woke up early the next morning like you usually did. Getting ready to enter hell, putting on a smile. Miko was never awake at this time so you prayed you didn't have to conversate with her until atleast later on in the evening. You leave your guys shared room to see her on the couch, dead asleep. You let out a tiny breath of relief. Heading out the door quietly to go to work.
You try to get the right key about to open the door. You had come home later and let's just say you were very tired. You were fully expecting Miko to be gone. Again. But confusion washed over you when you smelt food? You open the door more to see the table set with a full meal. You look around. Dishes, clean. "Miko?" You call out, as you set your stuff down. You look into your apartment further hearing a tap going, you head for the bathroom seeing her kneeling at the bath putting some bubbles in there and fixing up a few last things. You melt at the fact she's done all this.
She notices your presence. Quickly standing. "I uhm. I apologize for last night, and- the many nights before." She sighs but continues. "It was wrong of me to say what I said it truly was. You work so hard, I never really realized nor appreciated it. You're amazing and to have to deal with my ass like you do is amazing. Again, I'm so deeply sorry." You smile at her, immediately going to kiss her with so much passion. "Thank you for all of this. But I just want to say. You can come to me my love. If you're going through something I'm here, always will be. You don't needa go off drinking like some middle-aged man. You have me." You say with so much adoration. She smiles at you and nods. "I love you."
"I love you." After a moment she gestures for you to follow her. "I cooked." Your smile widens. You love when she cooks for you, she makes the best food. "It smells amazing baby." That made her truly happy inside. "I'm so glad you like it." She kisses your cheek and joins you at the table.
As you finish you lean back into your chair. "Ah ah- I already planned your bath, then you can have some well needed rest. I might of gotten you the day off.. For 3 days." You look at her, even more confused then you were, when you came in. "How- what- huh?" She nods, going to stand. "I did some persuading." She winks at you, earning a light chuckle from your lips. "I missed this. Us having our meals. You." She rubs your arm. "I won't let what happened last night happen ever again. It was wrong and hurtful, again I'm so sorry mama." You just hug her, feeling so grateful for what you had with her.
"Right bath time. Go get ready- we'll un ready rather. But go do that and I'll get you the last things you'll need." You get on your tiptoes to kiss her, scurrying off to the bathroom, the smell was beautiful and calm in there, the lights were a lil dim only source of light was from the small candles littered around. You undress, hoping in and letting out a content sigh, closing your eyes as you let the warmth go over your body. Miko comes in with a fresh towel and your night clothes. Setting them on the counter. She gives you a smile before leaving. "Wait-" You make her stop in her tracks. Turning to face you.
"Please join me, will you?" She begins to walk back in taking her shirt off, and everything else getting in with you. You move so she can squeeze in behind you, putting her arms around your torso and holding you close. "Thank you." You say with a genuine smile. "You're so very welcome." A comforting silence fell upon the room. Until it started to get steamy, and no not because of the water temperature. Her hands start to slowly move over your body. Inching closer to where you need her. "Please.." You blurt out. She hushes you gently. "I will, promise. I wanna take care of my girl." You bit your lip as her hand came closer. Closer. Then boom, that amazing feeling of her fingers sent a shockwave through your body, reaching her destination. You let out a soft moan, feeling her fingers creeping to your center.
Slipping them in with ease, she began to move them in you. Adding another finger, stretching you out. You let your head fall back onto her shoulder. "Good apology?" She breathes out watching as you begin to grind your hips down on her hand. "Mhmm-" You let out, cutting it short with yet another moan. "F-feels so good." "Only the best for you mama, only the best." You bit your lip as she increases the speed, letting your mouth hang open as you near your orgasm. She feels it, feels you clench. "There you go, cum for me mi amor." The name rolled off her tongue effortlessly. Not the only thing she can do with that tongue. You let go almost immediately. Letting out the most pretty sounds (according to her) she continues until you are completely finished. Removing her fingers, and using her other and to brush hair out of your face. It was safe to say, she was never going to do what she did again.
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Text
Wedding Dress
Yandere Boyfriend Izana
Masterlist
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A/N: nothing as wild as the other fic in this! its super late now so i'll edit this when I wake up :)
tw: explicit smut scene, stealthing/dubcon, mild emotional manipulation, breeding kink, exhibitionism, painful penetration, mentions of forced pregnancy, dead dove do not eat
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“Try it on for me?” It was hard to ignore your boyfriend’s whining despite your very real need to actually concentrate on the assignment in front of you, but you knew that all it would take was one glimpse of those large violet eyes accompanied by that small pout and it would be nigh impossible for you to refuse Izana. Yet at the same time, there wasn’t any doubt in your mind about what your boyfriend was playing at, and you did truly understand. Busy was a generous understatement for the amount of work you had been swamped under by anxious teachers for the past few weeks leading up to your finals, and you hadn’t had the time to entertain a very needy Izana between all the assessments you’ve been churning through day after day. 
And it seems his patience had reached the end of its fuse, judging from the increasing volume of grumbling coming from just out of your sight. You supposed it wouldn’t hurt to spare him a few minutes of your time - it was the least you could do.
There was no stopping the chuckle that broke free from your lips at the sight of the tanned boy holding up what seemed like a gown straight out of those magazines you loved to browse, the gorgeous white embroidered fabric almost seeming to shimmer in the harsh afternoon light pouring in through your wide windows. “A wedding dress, Izzy? We’re a bit young, don’t you think?”
You knew you shouldn’t have given him anything more than a courteous glance and a sweet smile, let alone asked about it, if you had wanted to get on with your work; Izana all but pounced on the opportunity to finally steal your attention away from those wretched papers, thrusting the dress eagerly at you. And you swore that you saw the sparkles going off behind those usually empty eyes as he waited expectantly for you. To try on the dress? To move? It was definitely the former you mused, seeing Izana absolutely wasn’t having it when you moved to lay the dress ever so gingerly across your bed before attempting to return your attention to your books, your boyfriend dramatically throwing himself into your arms. “Put it on,” he demanded, his much larger self draped across your lap like a heavy blanket and completely obstructing your view of your papers, fists clutching at your skirt.
Letting a fond sigh slip, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’ll try it on later, okay Izzy?” You placated, attempting to shift your figure round his as best you could while balancing his mass pressing down on and pinning your legs to your chair. Ignoring Izana’s wishes wasn’t something you did very often, if ever; you didn’t like to see him upset, but you were so close. You just really needed this last good grade on your finals to make your dream school, and this was your last chance to boost your grades to that level.
“No!” The boy insisted again, burying his face into your thighs. “Try it now.”
“Come on Izzy, I’m busy.”
Unfortunately, that failed to work as well, seeming to instead prod the delinquent into action. In a blink of an eye, Izana had already snatched up the pile of papers right before your fingers could close around them, leaping to his feet in the next heartbeat with a triumphant cry of ‘Got it!’. Which left you almost tumbling off your seat from the sudden absence of weight holding you in place, the sudden breeze that rushed through open windows carrying with it your surprised shout. You did fortunately manage to catch yourself, though with the onslaught of dizziness from standing so quickly, you did almost make friends with the floor again. “Give those back!” Despite knowing you were never getting your priceless worksheets back, you still nonetheless tried your best, reaching up on your tiptoes as far as you could, pushed up against the other’s lean for the best leverage. Yet from where Izana was dangling his prize from, well over his head and at a height you have never even dreamt of seeing, it was a lost cause.
“I want you to try the dress! Now!”
This again. “Don’t you have anything else to do, Izzy?” You sighed out, rubbing the palms of your hands into weary eyes as you dropped back down onto the balls of your feet. “What’s Kakucho doing?” 
You had thought you caught a glimpse of that signature buzzcut and scarred eye earlier from just behind the door to your room when Izana had first wandered in uninvited. Okay, uninvited was way too harsh a term since you did tell your boyfriend he was always welcomed to come round. But Kakucho was usually hot on the heels of his best friend, and it was strange to not see the other around. 
“Don’t know, don’t care. He’s not my minder.” He grumbled, poking lightly at your side with his free hand. “Put it on.”
Looks like you weren’t getting an answer, and Izzy wasn’t going to drop this.
Throwing up your hands with a resigned groaned, Izana knew he had you. Those wide eyes followed your delicate figure as you finally, finally turned to shuffle the few steps to your bed, all the while grumbling under your breath about how lucky he was that he was cute. See? This would have been so much easier if you had just listened to him from the start - he already knew how irresistible he was after all. You could never say no to these dashing looks. But when you turned to leave, your arms lost in the flowing sea of white cloth bundled up ever so neatly, it was one tanned arm thrown up that stopped you. “Wait, where’re you going?”
You turned to throw a confused look at him, the tilt of your head and furrowed eyebrows sending blood rushing south from his head. Too cute. “To the bathroom? To change?”
“Change here.”
You spluttered at his bold claim, your lips moving yet failing to voice anything coherent as the boy watched gears attempting to turn in your head through those adorable doe eyes. One hand shot up to point at those wide open windows, the same ones Izana was fond of climbing through in the middle of the night. “Everyone can see?!” You squeaked, your voice rising an octave in indignation.
“They won’t,” He replied confidently. “Just change here.”
They would, in fact - Izana knew very well the exact distance at which one could start getting glimpses into your room (having sent Kakucho to test it out and report back of course), and there was no doubt in his mind that you would be putting an unintentional show for some jealous eyes below. Though this train of thoughts would go, and remain, unsaid as you let out yet another sigh, one more of already countless today. Glancing up at the clock, as if you knew he was never going to let this end if you kept trying to argue, you seemed to have come to a decision, carefully replacing the gown on your bed. “Turn around. Don’t look,” You warned.
Turning to face away from him, you concentrated on stripping off your shirt, followed quickly by your skirt, which you simply unbuckled and allowed to drop free; Izana against your explicit instructions watched with almost bated breath as more and more of your skin was revealed to his hungry eyes until he could no longer resist. A sudden warm touch to your waist - his warm touch - and you screamed, flowed by a harsh rustle of leaves as a flock of birds fled the nearby tree. Your sweet, innocent face instantly flaring red as his came to rest on your shoulder, Izana was more amused at you slapping one hand over his eyes, the other flying to cover the back of your kitten-printed panties. “Izzy!! I said don’t look!”
“You’ll need help with the dress.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear as your boyfriend reached up to tug away your hand, the other wandering hand brushed a burning trail over your skin, a journey that ended with him lightly tugging at the band of your underwear. “Besides, nothing I haven’t seen before.” 
There was a pause as you processed his words, a rare moment of peace that allowed the sounds of life from the outside floated into your usually quiet room. “Help me already,” you settled on muttering, your cheeks somehow only flushing even harder as you lifted the gown up and across your body, gaze fixed instead on a spot on the ground as he took his time zipping and buckling the various fasteners. Heaven only knows why you were still with this insufferable man, though the cheeky grin he flashed at you that made your heart skip a beat said otherwise. 
Yet when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the first look you had of yourself clad in white, all your previous problems, the world, it all seemed to fade away, your eyes fixed on the image reflected at you. Was that.. you? “I-is this tailor made Izzy?” Gaping at the form-hugging dress that fitted you like a glove, you could only stare jaw-dropped at yourself as you slowly spun, breath stuck in your throat - the beauty in the flowing, glittering gown looking nothing like you. Nothing like you ever thought you could look like. You whirled to face the smug tanned boy. “How much did this cost?”
But there was, of course, no answer for your question, though his lack of words didn’t stop your boyfriend from mentally running the numbers - he always did wonder what you would think if you knew of the pools of spilt blood and broken bones that paid for every inch of that dress, the number of lives brought to absolute ruin directly or indirectly in his bid to raise the funds. Though this was nothing Izana wanted you to worry or even think about - every drop was well worth paying for the awe that shone in your doe eyes, and if operating in the shadows away from where your gaze fell, then so be it. Turning his focus back to you, your boyfriend allowed his gaze to wander.
The wedding dress was nothing short of a masterpiece, the fabric soft and luxurious against your skin, yet covered with a delicate threaded pattern that was visible only when tilted at a certain angle in the light. Light and flowy, yet at the same time just heavy enough in all the right places to accentuate your curves, you looked especially divine to him this fine afternoon. The white almost as if a halo around your form, the brightness of the fabric glimmering under the afternoon sun was a sharp contrast from his own tanned skin as he bundled the soft cloths into his arms. 
Your outfit, though helping to emphasize that touched-by-heaven feel to your presence, wasn’t yet perfect - there was something still missing to complete the outfit.
You only had time to let out an eep when Izana casually reached under your dress to yank down your panties, your face once more lighting on fire as your underwear was allowed to fall freely down your legs, pooling at your feet. “IZANA! STOP THAT!”
But the other was barely bothered by your (honestly, very light) smacks to his arm as he swatted away your hand, gently pushing you backwards to force you to step out and away from the embarrassing piece of cloth. “You can’t wear these with a wedding dress.” Or rather, he wouldn’t let you wear this with your dress.
Ah, you were always so shy about your panties, Izana mused, as you spun around to hide your blushing face from him. He didn’t quite understand why, but it made for very cute reactions that he couldn’t complain about, plus served as a good distraction, the tanned boy quickly swiping and tucking your underwear into his pocket. Certainly you wouldn’t miss them if he borrowed these for a bit - Kakucho would be sure to appreciate the little token for all his hard work. “DON’T LOOK AT THEM!”
Fishing out the plain white pair he had kept in his other pocket, this one was a world away from your usual preference of underwear, a ring of delicate lace carefully stitched to line the band of the lingerie and meeting at the front with a small pink bow. “Here, wear these.”
You couldn’t meet his gaze as Izana pulled your new pair up your legs, both hands still shyly covering as much of your burning face as you could, only finally dropping your hands to bunch a fistful of fabric when he gave your behind a playful smack. “There. All done.” Of course he already came in those and only half-heartedly washed off what he could be bothered to to make them look new at a glance. But again, not that you needed to know, though the faintest whisper reminding Izana of having the desecretated cloth pressed firmly against your crotch only served to make him unbearably hard.
 
“I hate you so much, Kurokawa Izana.” You muttered under your breath, letting out a huff. You didn’t mean that in the slightest. The chime of a distant bell did break the silent spell that had fallen over the quiet surroundings, shaking you back to the reality of your waiting homework. “If we’re done here, I’ll change out and get back to work, okay?” 
Silence was all you received back, and you took that as a yes from him, hands reaching for the zip on the back of the dress. It took but a heartbeat for you to go from standing in front of the mirror to finding yourself now sprawled flat on your bed, pinned under an Izana staring down at you unblinkingly, violet eyes flushed wide open. “Iz-mmm!”
A pair of hungry lips crashing against yours swallowed anything you had to say, the white-haired boy locked in a desperate kiss with you almost as if he was trying to eat you alive, as if he couldn’t breathe without you; sucking and nibbling and tangling hard enough to leave your soft lips bruised. And all the while, one hand fumbled the button of his pants open, the bright afternoon sunlight accompanied by passing voices flooding into your room doing nothing to discourage him from eagerly yanking the band of his own underwear down far enough to allow his rock hard dick to spring free from its tight confines. 
Was it his long dry spell caused by your wretched teachers? Was it the glow of the wedding dress? Or was it the delicate white lace panties that tipped him over the edge? Whatever was the last straw, Izana couldn’t quite say, but seeing you prone beneath him only drove him wilder. He needed you now, more than ever. You would understand, like you always did.
Finally releasing you from his vicious, animalistic kiss, allowing you to gasp and heave and breathe, there was no rest for the weary, your boyfriend instantly moving to push the mass of layers that made up your wedding down up and out of the way to reveal the same lace panties he had helped you into just minutes ago. “Izzy?!”
But you were forced back down onto the bed before you could pull yourself up, Izana once more atop you. Yet even without a single word exchanged, you knew what he wanted. Cock pressed hard against the thin cloth that still clung to your privates, he let out a low groan that sent a shiver down your spine, empty eyes now filled with a rare burning lust snapping down to meet yours. As the boy leaned over you, you braced yourself, but the next kiss he pressed to your lips were nowhere like those brutal ones. They were the same ones you remember, the same ones you fell in love with - soft, gentle, fragile. Exposed.
“May I?” He breathed, hot air blowing over your skin, tanned hand slipping underneath the dress to lightly drag long, elegant fingers over your covered clit, the pressure on the thin cloth of your panties only increasing as he ground himself harder against you, the feeling of the crotch of your underwear wetting with your own fluids only sealing his own conviction. You wanted him, as much as he wanted you. You need him like he needs you.
Still, you hesitated. “Izzy, I-” 
Izana cut you off. “Please baby, I’m so hard.” He whimpered, burying his face into your chest, taking a deep breath of your addictive scent. “It hurts.” 
And that was all it took for you to cave- he knew you would never be able to live with the mere idea of allowing Izana to suffer. Reaching up to tangle your fingers into his silky white locks, you tugged him up for another kiss, giving him your blessing. Go ahead. 
Wasting no time, his fingers swept aside the offending cloth and in one smooth motion, Izana harshly forced the tip of his dick past your tight entrance, before slamming his entire length into you, his lips instantly moving to press firmly against yours and muffle the scream that bubbled up and threatened to spill from you. Your delicate fingers curled in his hair tightened to yank at his roots - no doubt you were struggling with suddenly being stretched too big, too fast after so long, the fat, hot tears welling and falling freely from your eyes burning a shared trail down both of your skins. Your toes curling into themselves as tight as they would go, your nail digging into his skin.
Yet in the moment, all he could think was the warmth of your fluttering walls that hugged his sheath as they tried to adjust and accommodate his girth, the tightness of you around him threatening to milk him for all he’s worth. And it was spectacular - this was what he had been missing all this time?
“That hurt, Izzy!” You sobbed out when he finally let up on your lips, choking on those few simple words, one trembling hand moving to wipe at the stinging tears while the other reaching down to gingerly touch at your spread cunt. “It hurts.”
“Shhhh, I’m sorry, I'm sorry.” Peppering your forehead with light kisses, Izana held still between your plush thighs, carefully massaging your abdomen as you whimpered into his chest, his free hand lifting the swelling tears from your eyes and gently tucking stray strands of hair away behind your ears. Because he meant it - as much as you cared for him, he did truly care for you - forcing himself to stay still was hell when all he wanted to do was pound you into the bed, but it was the least he could do to allow you to adjust to him. If you asked him to stop now, Izana no doubt would comply, though it was no secret you would never. You were always so good to him.
And when the spazzing of your muscles finally subsided and you tiredly nodded, the boy made sure to adjust you into a more comfortable position, nudging pillows under your back for support and allowing you to wrap your arms around him before he started at a more reasonable pace. Pulling out halfway before guiding himself back in, the discomfort, no matter how comparatively slight, was still present, your forehead wrinkling slightly with your wince.
But with each thrust of his hips, watching your face morph from pain to pleasure was like nothing else in the world. Izana knew your body better than the back of his own hand, and with his masterful, learned precision in hitting that pleasure spot that made the stars sparkle in your eyes, teasing out that blissful expression of yours he loved so much with every slap of his skin against yours - no other experience came even close. 
“I-izzy-“ It was vulgar almost, the sound of your pants and whines of his name mingling with the squelch of his dick rutting into you, your tears now nothing but a distant memory as Izana quickly picked up the pace. The sweet honey that leaked from your drenched pussy coating his dick now spluttering and dripping and staining the once pure white panties and gown you still wore along with his pants, yet the sight only made Izana go even faster. 
Tugging down the top of your dress to expose your breasts, your gasp was like an angel’s breath as he took one into his mouth, that oh so sinful tongue swirling at your nipple as he sucked and nibbled. “Iz-i— too much!” 
He had always wondered what your breasts would look like fully developed - would they look like those actresses in the magazines with their big heaving chest, or would they remain small and cute like yours do currently? But he didn’t care either way, Izana supposed, changing to attack your other breast, one deviant hand wandering down and under your dress to lightly rub at your clit as you whimpered and tried to break free from the excessive stimulation.
Those lacy white panties, once so carefully handled from person to person, had long been ruined, now laying torn between your spread legs, a victim of Izana’s frustration - despite him reminding himself to keep the priceless piece intact, the friction it created continuously rubbing against his length had been too much to bear. And you were too lost in your own haze of pleasure, eyes having long glazed over. Words evading your mind, you only managed to stammer out the first half of his name as your boyfriend continued to push himself again and again into you, fingers grasping at soft, plush thighs: another of his favorites. You really were perfect for him.
“F-f-fuck!” He panted over you, pressing his lips again and again to yours, the obscene of skin slapping against skin only growing louder with every thrust, the world around the two of you all but drowned out. “F-feel so good baby girl.”
‎‎You were made for him. You were all his - you had never taken another, and you never will. No one else could have you like he did, could see you like he did. Your nails raked into his back like claws, doe eyes flying open as your body shook around him. No one. “F- Iz— I-”
“Shi-it, fu- I’m I-!” One last thrust and sinking himself as deep as he could, Izana came straight into you, hot cum spilling into the deepest parts of you, right before he collapsed into your bed next to you, letting out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Fuck. 
Allowing himself just a few minutes of rest, the cry of a crow from outside your window suddenly snapped the white-haired boy back into reality, and his mind went straight to a single thought - did his expected audience enjoy the show? Did he care if they did?
Forcing himself up from where he was huddled up against you, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, you didn’t even twitch when Izana pressed your folds open to watch his cum slowly drip from your gasping hole, right before he gently lifted the white liquid to force it back in with two fingers. It was the first time you hadn’t requested he wear a condom, and having felt your warmth around him, Izana couldn’t see why he would ever going forward. Maybe he would if you asked nicely, but you would look so much better round and pregnant with his child in your wedding dress. He could consider asking the tailor to make some room for a baby bump.
But that was a question for another time, Izana bundling you into his arms, a hum on his lips as he carried you towards your bathroom - this wedding dress really was worth every last cent.
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cheeriecherrymain · 11 months
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I have a rather....shameless request. I am pushing myself rather hard to do a 4 month Physics course and 4 month human anatomy course in one month... So would it be possible to ask for a Viktor head-cannon thing where the reader comes to him to ask for his physics expertise. Dealing with the reader getting very frustrated but yet never quitting (*cough* as in taking breaks *cough*) Thank you!
I really hope things go well for you, friend! School is hard and really kicks us in the ass sometimes, but I believe in you! Take care of yourself when you're able to - and know that we all wish you the very best!
---
Viktor x Reader
-We all know that Viktor is hard on himself. Pushing himself past his limits, staying up late even though he’s exhausted and can barely see straight. It’s a miracle this man didn’t keel over sooner than he did.
-The thing is, he knows his actions are detrimental to his health, both physical and mental. He knows that resting would benefit him. He just…doesn’t really care. He’s of the mind that his worth as a person is inherently tied to what he can do for and give to other people.
-Until he met you.
-He was drawn to your brilliance and ingenuity the moment you spoke out in your shared class. Your hardworking nature, and drive to learn - your thirst for knowledge, and desire to do things well.
-It only made sense that the two of you would end up together. Going from classmates, to partners, to friends, to partners. You always encourage each other in your respective fields of study, helping each other where you can, quizzing each other extensively before every test.
-But lately, he’s noticed that you’ve been…busy. 
-Though, busy might be a grand understatement.
-You’ve been absolutely swamped, is what you’ve been. Nearly drowning in schoolwork, up to your neck in papers and assignments and projects and lectures and presentations and studying, on top of that still needing to take care of yourself and get enough rest.
-You’ve even had to call in a rain check on the rare date night that the two of you had planned, in lieu of working.
-He understands, of course. He’d gone through the same physics class last year, with the workload condensed into just a couple of months in the hopes that he might be able to squeeze in an extra class.
-It had nearly eaten him alive. He might have actually thrown in the towel and called it quits, had it not been for you. Always there, finding time in your own schedule to help him out and listen to his ranting.
-He’d been so grateful back then. But now, seeing you struggle with the exact same things he did? It…worries him.
-He knows how it had felt, being entirely devoid of energy, constantly on the verge of passing out or throwing up, maybe both. The back aches from sitting for long periods of time, the neck tension and headaches, the words on the page blurring together after however many hours of reading.
-Not to mention all the emotions he’d gone through, ranging from despair, to anger, to guilt and grief and self hatred. Hopelessness. He knows that you’ve got to be feeling some kind of way right about now. And he…doesn’t know how to help.
-It had felt different, when he was the one going through it. He had wanted to push through it all and keep going, despite the strain it put on him. He had to learn, had to pass his classes and make something of himself. What good would he be, otherwise?
-But now it’s you. Wonderful, incredible, beautiful, brilliant you. He wants nothing more than to take care of you, and then some, because you deserve the world. And…he worries that you might be pushing yourself too hard.
-Or maybe he’s the one worrying too much.
-Even when you storm into the lab one evening, late enough that even Jayce has turned in for the night, he worries.
-You’re obviously frustrated, your entire body strung tight, your jaw so clenched he wonders if you might crack your teeth. You’ve got the heaviest looking bookbag slung over your shoulder, weighing you down so you stand crooked, and in your arms are even more ridiculously thick textbooks.
-Some of which he recognizes.
- “I wasn’t expecting you tonight,” he greets you, turning away from the notes he’d been copying down into his journal. “I thought for sure you’d be…studying…? Is everything alright?”
-He watches as you make your way over to the empty desk he and Jayce had set up nearby, for such occasions as you popping in to do some last minute studying.
-You drop your books onto the surface, letting your bag slide off your arm and hit the floor with a dull thunk. Then, you nearly throw the chair out from beneath the desk, and sit down so hard he worries you might have actually hurt yourself.
- “No, Viktor, everything is not alright!” you finally reply, muttering to yourself as you start rooting through one of the pockets of your bag, pulling out a disheveled notebook and a pencil. 
- “I have seven assignments due in less than three days, and I’m barely halfway through all of them! I’ve got four tests coming up, a final exam, plus whatever bullship pop quiz my professor decides to spring on us last minute! My head feels like it’s about to crack in half, my eyes have been burning for the entire week, and I haven’t slept in two days!”
-And yet, despite all this, you put your pencil to your paper and begin writing.
-He watches for a couple seconds, before standing quietly and making his way over to you. 
- “When was the last time you ate?” he asks softly, wincing slightly when your gaze snaps to him from the corner of your bloodshot eyes. Ah, he thinks. So your frustration and exhaustion is coming out in impatience tonight.
-He’s no stranger to such a thing.
- “I just want to know what I should get for you,” he clarifies. “I’m not going to stop you from studying - but I am going to do some of the smaller things that you probably can’t be bothered to do right now. Like eating.”
-Your gaze softens marginally, and your eyes flick back to your work.
- “I had a piece of toast this morning,” you tell him quietly. “It’s the only thing boring enough that would stay down. And ginger ale.”
-He nods to himself. He can do that.
-Twenty minutes later, he’s setting a plate beside you on the desk, away from where you might bump it with your elbow, along with the coldest carbonated beverage he could get his hands on so late at night.
- “Alright,” he says, while you grab a slice of the food he’d made. “Would you mind if I went over what you’ve got on your assignments so far?”
-You narrow your eyes at him.
- “It might help if you get a fresh pair of eyes on your work,” he assures you. “And I’ve been through the same classes that you have, remember? I might be able to offer some pointers.”
-You droop slightly, but nudge your bag towards him anyways, remaining focused on the paper in front of you.
-He gets about halfway through all of what you’ve written so far, leaving little sticky notes on things he thinks could use clarification or rephrasing, as well as little compliments to hopefully balance things out.
-He gets about halfway through, before the sound of your quiet sniffling stops him.
- “Are you-” he begins, but you cut him off.
- “Ignore it,” you nearly plead, wiping hastily at your eyes. “This has happened multiple times this week already - I don’t need coddling. I can work just fine.”
-He fiddles with the corners of the papers in his hands, watching silently as your eyes continuously well up with tears, only to be swiped away seconds before falling down your cheeks. Again and again, as if they’ll never stop.
-Until he can’t take it anymore.
-He reaches forward, wrapping his fingers gently around your upper arm, to momentarily draw your attention away from your work. You resist for a few moments, frowning slightly, but eventually his persistence pays off.
- “We’re going to get through this,” he tells you firmly. “You’re going to finish what you’re working on, and then we’re going to turn in for the night.”
-You open your mouth to protest, but he’s very quick to shush you. “And then,” he continues, “Once you’ve slept a little bit, I’m going to help you with your assignments. No, I’m not going to do them for you - you don’t have to worry about that. But I will be helping you with the structure and wording, and once you’ve got the final product scribbled out, I’m going to help you type them out: that’s menial work, and you don’t need to be worrying about it.”
-You stare at him for a couple seconds, frowning and looking frazzled and confused.
- “Why aren’t you telling me to quit?” you ask, sharper than intended. “I’m just going to be taking up your time - you could be doing better things. There are so many reasons you could be telling me to give up!”
-He trails his fingers down your arm, to your hand, which he tenderly pulls towards his face so he can press a kiss to the inside of your wrist.
- “Because you’re brilliant,” he says, laying his cheek into the curve of your palm. “And you’re capable. Strong. Thoughtful. I admire everything about you, from your stubbornness, to your sense of humour, to your tenacity.”
- “And,” he lowers his voice, “I think that even the best of us require help sometimes. Even when we don’t want it.”
- “And sometimes,” he sighs, “We don’t even have the option. Some of us don’t have help. But I had you, even when I was too stubborn to quit, even when I was probably hurting myself. You knew that I wouldn’t give up, so instead, you did what you could to ease the burden on my mind.”
-He turns his head slightly and presses a final kiss to the palm of your hand. “And I know you’re the same. I won’t ask you to quit, because I know it will only upset you. So let me help you in another way I’m able to. Please?”
-He looks at you, with wide, pleading, beautiful eyes, and you can’t help the way your heart melts and warms. Tentatively, you agree.  -It will be a rough month, he thinks, turning his attention back to the papers in his lap. But maybe it will be a little less difficult if you’ve got each other. And afterwards, the two of you can celebrate by taking the nap of the century - perhaps he might even go out on a limb and book a reservation to that fancy garden restaurant you were interested in.
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valhiir · 3 months
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alright a little creachure name of acronym for tiny aka smol aka toxic support na made an incredibly sweet post i'm gonna return the favor and unload my affection onto people who have made 2023 absolutely incredible and that I'm so grateful for.
@decaeys / @decaeysa remi you already know Iysm. my homie, my shooter, my goth accomplice and alibi for where I was on December 15th 2017 at 2:45 am. You're always there to make my day better and we've been through a lot together over the past few years and I cant wait for the rest to come tbh.
@virrtuoso venom my unhinged. you consistently make me laugh and it's always WILD to be around you. You're so talented and you hardly give yourself credit where it's due. Ik you're like hardly on here anymore but on the offchance you see this, you're stinky and I appreciate you immensely. I'm incredibly grateful to have you around
@vonerde Vee you're like the popular kid at school and I'm the sketchy rat that skitters out of the sewers that you let hang around you for some unfathomable reason. No but for real, I'm so glad to be your friend and I'm always down to clown and shoot the shit with you. You're always so much fun to be around and I look forwards to throwing more dumbass ideas at you in 2024.
@jinxe / @vintera RAY.... You goblin you're a riot and I look forwards to every single interaction we have. Even if it's just plotting and hanging out, you're one of the most fun people to hang around and I wanna hold you up like simba and shake you infront of my followers so they know how great you are.
@nighttime-muses / @sleeptime-muses Peachie we dont even interact on this blog but I'm taggin you to let you know how much I fuck w/ you and appreciate your company. Legitimately a years long friend I've had on this website and I'm honored to share a stupid sense of humor with. You're fantastic, I'm obsessed, and you're like one of the only people i still talk to from the time I wrote Dragon Ball ( a little bit of Em deep lore there for my people here. )
@knifvd how dare you be sweet to me on main. the audacity. the sheer gal. I'm shaking. I'm crying. I'm choking. I cannot believe you would do this to me infront of god and everybody. NO BUT FR... We haven't done all that much but I really wanna get the ball rolling and go nuts because you're honestly so fun to be around and your portrayals are absolutely on point every time ( Bro does not miss I stg ) and I'm super psyched to go into 2024 to yeet everything i got at you.
@nameaprice One of the most consistent and easiest to work with people on this platform. Like it's insane that you met one of my best IRL friends completely separately and we still talk about it and how bonkers it is that it happened. Aside from that though, your characterizations are fuckin PEAK and I always enjoy seeing you on the dash. Hoping for a lot more to come this next year, and going forwards!
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And with all that said!! Here's some people I really wanna interact with coming up. @heartate Rina I've been a huge fan for ages, I've just been super busy!! We've been mutuals for so long and I feel so bad for never apporaching sooner but I'm so excited finally have the time to do stuff. @ezrl / @svellsongur Kai you're incredibly talented and I love all your muses. That's just it, that's the post! I just wanna interact more at some point LMAO. @elicertis Essek I've only seen bits of your writing but I love your style and I really have been meaning to get to you. Like I wish I wasn't so swamped this year because I would love to plot and get to stuff. @agonizedembrace Han we ain't talked in a hot second and for that I heavily apologize. I've had so much going on that time slipped by me and I promise it's not been intentional. Our threads are still something I think about and I love the dynamics we got, they're fantastic and so are you!! @darkbound Dice life's been busy but I want you to know I'm super excited to do stuff. We've only just like started talking but you're super cool and I'm excited to explore stuff!! I don't wanna get ahead of myself but like, fr. I'm excited and everything we've talked about seems fun as fuck!
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Alright that's enough of me being sappy. Get back to ya New Years goobers
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chelzone · 5 months
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just played thru Goodbye Volcano High finally, to completion
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here's me thoughts, under a spoiler block just like i did for after i beat Snoot Game
story flows nicely from start to finish, though i feel like a tiiiiny bit could have been trimmed cus it did feel a bit too long for playing through
affinity system is cool, feel like i hadn't seen people dig into that one as much as they should've. i was unable to get the Rosa gender reveal sequence cus i didnt max out her stuffs BUT they still throw in moments prior that telegraph it very much so so that's still something!
gorgeous backgrounds, absolutely zero complaints about any of them. while the characters animations can be a tad bit stiff at times, i feel like i can still most of the time realistically imagine them within the scenes properly
i understand you had to have 3 L&L segments for it to make sense as a DnD sessions sort of thing but,, i didnt like the segments in general. i feel like you could have still explored Reed's character without dedicating far too much time to these
music for the rhythm game segments is definitely NOT my personal taste, so i cant rlly say much about the content that wouldn't be heavily biased. i feel like also the controls were a bit too complicated, especially on keyboard. perhaps it couldve been easier to play on a controller but like,, visually there's still way way way too much to keep track of so it gets overwhelming at times. also very very hard to focus on the scenes going on while trying to play the rhythm segments, and i feel like that hurts the final one with the montage
Naomi and Fang is a match made in Heaven, what else is to say? jumps the gun a wee bit but idk i kind of like that shit and i do that for me own characters at time. wishing those two the best in dino heaven
was not expecting Fang to be so selfish throughout the entire game, it's genuinely a bit jarring at times. the way it's patched up in the end feels a bit too rushed, but then again i said the game felt a bit too long so no idea what the solution would be
Swamp Babies i wish u got more screentime, but i digress. Curtis having no voice let alone dialogue was a bummer
i hope they keep patching it cus i did get softlocked multiple times and there were many times where backgrounds failed to load in for a bit during many scenes ;w;
fave characters from this iteration gotta be Stella, Sage and Reed. funnily enough, two of their iterations in Snoot Game are also a delight! sad to see Sage didnt make the latter cut aside from positive text messagez
the logo and poster design stuff paired with the picture day sequence were pretty cool!
not a fan of the twitter stuff in-game just cus i loathe the real life equivalent, sorry ;w;
all in all now that i've done a full single run for both games (i am not replaying either, this is too much of a time commitment for a narrative-heavy experience), i think i can say i give Snoot Game a 9/10 rating and Goodbye Volcano High a 6/10
pleasantly happy with both, despite any complaints or criticisms! looking forward to drawing more fanart of both series too, as well as having a blast hanging out in discords with folks from either communities. met some good people in a cruel world
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seyaryminamoto · 3 months
Note
I apologise if this question may lead to a massive spoiler, but I wish to know the answer all the same; What do you think will be the dynamic between Azula and Ursa in the future of this fic? I believe that they may reconcile, but will Azula accept the former princess in her new family? What may be the dynamic between the two? Will Sokka be the glue in their relationship? All I would like to know in my rambling is how Ursa's and Azula's relationship may develop into the future.
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Ooookay, that answer goes under the break 🤣 read at your own risk, people!
God I kinda don't wanna talk too much because so many Ursa-related things have been some of my best kept secrets throughout Gladiator's process... but I also wanna talk so much about it because I'm very hyped over this and I love to see people who are also interested in how this will play out!
So... let's get cracking:
What will their dynamic be? Azula and Ursa's dynamic will start tense, for sure. Even when neither of them actively wants to antagonize the other, the years of trouble between them, the unresolved issues, are still very much present between them. Ursa is now much more aware of the awful effect she had on her daughter during her younger years, she has been punished harshly for it by the swamp, which absolutely drove home the point that she was already starting to understand, at the time when she left the Fire Nation: she wasn't the best mother she could have been to her daughter. Azula, on the other hand, has been through soooooooo much that her early issues with Ursa, while not meaningless because they never could be, certainly appear a lot less awful now that she can see them from a distance, so to speak. Therefore, initial tension, cordiality, and then... ... And then they'll find one point in common. The one thing only the two of them would EVER understand. One thing that basically bonds them in ways that they can't bond with anyone else. Ursa can't have that dynamic with Zuko. Azula could never have it with anyone else either. It's very specifically something very important for them, so important that these two would be the ONLY people who would ever understand each other when it comes to this... And that basically breaks the dam and changes things for the better :'D they become a lot more open with each other, their relationship begins to heal, and things get a lot better quite quickly for their restored parent-child relationship. While obviously it's too late to make things perfect, they absolutely can them better, and both Ursa and Azula will be ready to make those efforts for each other.
Will Azula accept Ursa in her family? As you may guess after reading the previous answer? Yes, haha. Azula will work towards fixing one very serious problem Ursa needs solving, and after that, Ursa's basically going to be like Persephone and spend half a year with one of her hids and half the year with the other one. At least, that's my current plan for her future 😂
Will Sokka be the glue in their relationship? ... Actually? No 🤣 someone else will be the glue, so to speak, but Sokka certainly will help and he will be the one who tells Azula what's up with her mother. He'll give her the chance to decide what she wants to do, when to meet her, and how to manage the whole situation. Of course, he will tell her everything he's learned from Ursa and how affected she has been by the things she's been through, but all in all, he steps back and allows them to build their bond themselves rather than being their facilitator. But he will definitely help, and Ursa will be stoked to see those two together once she finally does... though Azula, of course, will be very awkward about it because it's Azula. Poor girl won't know how to handle having a supportive mother in some regards, and if Ursa spots any PDA, Azula will most likely be embarrassed to death by it... but a little embarrassment over this is definitely a step-up compared to the awful things she's had to deal with as of late :'D so I'm sure Azula will be very happy to trade her current problems with: "I can't kiss you in front of my MOM that's awkward" "Azula we're literally forty years old..." "Your point???"
Soooo... as you can see, it will develop. Quite a bit. It will become healthier than it has ever been. No doubt the scars can't be erased completely, but Azula can gain a better understanding of her mother and her circumstances, just as much as Ursa has come to accept that she absolutely fucked up in many regards and could have/should have done better for her daughter.
Hope that's a good answer without being... too spoilery 😂
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brookesallow · 4 months
Note
Update: more unsolicited opinions from your sister 🤣. I’ve never met a single person from her family, but the little she’s shared they sound like an interesting mix and her mother takes the cake. I think dad mentioned he’s a retired divorce attorney and I remember him telling me that no matter how amicable the divorce is someone is always the bad guy. In my opinion, as the oldest, she felt the burnt of her parents divorce and found her dad to be the bad guy. I’m not even going to pretend I know the inner workings of her family, but just from her social media presence her mom is an important figure in her life and she’s still seeking her approval. Jared’s sister, her team as well, are trying very hard to make sure that when this is all over she has something as far as career goes and her own money as well. I think that it would be hard for her to have this all come to an end and to still be left financially dependent on Jared. If there’s one thing we can agree on, it’s that she doesn’t do well when things she puts out there aren’t well received. If, and when, a divorce does happen she won’t able to handle the scrutiny that she hasn’t worked at all in however long the marriage goes on for. Why do you think her instagram has had so many different themes. She used to do MCM, TBT, all those little things but now she doesn’t unless it’s on a story because they were never well received. She stopped talking politics when people called her out for only doing it when it had an impact on TX, she’s never even done another Q&A when the last one didn’t go the way she wanted. She’s craving approval and validation, big thanks to her mother for that. Now, I don’t think she regrets marrying Jared but she does regret taking his last name, taking that year off when they got married and ultimately getting pregnant as quickly as they did. I have no doubt they both love their kids more than life itself, but the timing was all very rushed and I do believe she wishes they had slowed down even just a little bit. She absolutely hates being known as Jared’s wife and if things were different I think should have kept Cortese professionally. I think she has a lot of resentment towards Jared because she was hoping he would be able to open up more acting doors for her and it hasn’t been possible. I’ll be the first to admit that when she does a convention it’s downright dull and I’d much rather see J2 on stage. I’ll also be the first to admit that their teams aren’t exactly subtle but I also understand that once this is all over with they’re going to have a damn good time moving up in the ranks because of this job they currently have. Anyhow, about the conventions. When she does them I remind myself this is her only way of remaining relevant and it’ll help her stay in the public eye for future casting directors to possibly see. Would this be better if she did a panel alone or with someone besides Jared? Of course! But she doesn’t like conventions, she likes the idea of them but these are not her thing. She’s doing them to show the world “I’m still here!! I’m still relevant!!”, but again it would be more affective if she didn’t do them with Jared. I mean, we all know he’s the only reason she’s able to do them, but still. Sadly I won’t be going home for Thanksgiving, I’m swamped at work because of when I got sick, but it’s alright my invitation was revoked 🤣🤣. I just wanted to throw my opinions out there, we’ll be back to our regular emails soon!
I think dad mentioned he’s a retired divorce attorney and I remember him telling me that no matter how amicable the divorce is someone is always the bad guy. In my opinion, as the oldest, she felt the burnt of her parents divorce and found her dad to be the bad guy.I’m not even going to pretend I know the inner workings of her family, but just from her social media presence her mom is an important figure in her life and she’s still seeking her approval. Jared’s sister, her team as well, are trying very hard to make sure that when this is all over she has something as far as career goes and her own money as well. 
Why do you think she doesnt show her too much? Like she has always gave the idea that she doesnt spend too much with her own family
Jared’s sister, her team as well, are trying very hard to make sure that when this is all over she has something as far as career goes and her own money as well. I think that it would be hard for her to have this all come to an end and to still be left financially dependent on Jared. If there’s one thing we can agree on, it’s that she doesn’t do well when things she puts out there aren’t well received. If, and when, a divorce does happen she won’t able to handle the scrutiny that she hasn’t worked at all in however long the marriage goes on for. 
That's exactly why I think they are going to make it looks like it's Jared's fault. I'm sure they are going to put Jared as the bad guy in their divorce
Why do you think her instagram has had so many different themes. She used to do MCM, TBT, all those little things but now she doesn’t unless it’s on a story because they were never well received. She stopped talking politics when people called her out for only doing it when it had an impact on TX, she’s never even done another Q&A when the last one didn’t go the way she wanted
Maybe Charlie has moved with them to help her with the acc? Because she was like a lost boat?
Like a support, moderator, idk
Now, I don’t think she regrets marrying Jared but she does regret taking his last name, taking that year off when they got married
Definitely she should have kept her real name ...
ultimately getting pregnant as quickly as they did. I have no doubt they both love their kids more than life itself, but the timing was all very rushed and I do believe she wishes they had slowed down even just a little bit. She absolutely hates being known as Jared’s wife and if things were different I think should have kept Cortese professionally. I think she has a lot of resentment towards Jared because she was hoping he would be able to open up more acting doors for her and it hasn’t been possible.
I agree with you in the kids part. Idk in the actor part because I dont know if Jared has tried it or not
I’ll be the first to admit that when she does a convention it’s downright dull and I’d much rather see J2 on stage. I’ll also be the first to admit that their teams aren’t exactly subtle but I also understand that once this is all over with they’re going to have a damn good time moving up in the ranks because of this job they currently have. Anyhow, about the conventions. When she does them I remind myself this is her only way of remaining relevant and it’ll help her stay in the public eye for future casting directors to possibly see. Would this be better if she did a panel alone or with someone besides Jared? Of course! But she doesn’t like conventions, she likes the idea of them but these are not her thing. She’s doing them to show the world “I’m still here!! I’m still relevant!!”, but again it would be more affective if she didn’t do them with Jared. I mean, we all know he’s the only reason she’s able to do them, but still. 
Jared's stans are going to hate me right now but I think Gen doesnt like to interact with fans, she always puts her fake smile and uncomfortable look when she is interacting with fans in my opinion
And I agree with all the things you have said about the cons
Sadly I won’t be going home for Thanksgiving, I’m swamped at work because of when I got sick, but it’s alright my invitation was revoked 🤣🤣. I just wanted to throw my opinions out there, we’ll be back to our regular emails soon!
Oh...I'm sorry you cant go home
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Thanks for all your opinions 💖
Wanted to make you a question sister, what do you think about the change Jensen made to used to be so soft to always act as the "bad" guy. I guess that was a PR choice to get more fame or whatever, isnt it?
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mdzsartreblogs · 1 year
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Okay so this post applies to this sideblog, tgcfartreblogs and svsssartreblogs, but especially here since this is the most heavily tagged.
With the influx of artists from Twitter, I'm getting absolutely swamped trying to keep up on new art posts, and I'm way behind in queueing new stuff even though I'm now regularly queueing literally twice as much every day as I was before the Muskening. It's getting really overwhelming especially because it isn't letting up (probably because Twitter keeps imploding even more) and @/miridiums had a suggestion on my main blog (@/unforth) that I think could help, but I want to put it to yall instead of deciding on my own. I think I've got two options.
1. Continue as I have been, accepting that I'm falling behind but doing what I can and that's okay - no changes in tagging etc.
2. I could (temporarily or long term) reduce the level of tag detail on the three MXTX blogs to match that of my other five blogs - which would mean I'm basically only tagging artist, character(s), ship(s), and trigger warnings. This would definitely enable me to go MUCH faster, and I might be able to catch up, but if I end up with a thousand+ posts with minimal tags the odds are low that I'll ever be able to find the time to go back and add the tags to the posts where I had to skip.
Which would you prefer? Slower but steady and no change in tagging, or reduced tagging and faster?
Votes appreciated! (Moments like this I wish Tumblr had poll options).
Eta: just for reference its currently taking me 2 hours+ a day to keep up across the 8 blogs, and that's more than I can spend a lot of days hence why I'm failing to keep up.
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Text
Two Eyes - a Magnus Archives fic
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“Can I have a cigarette?”
No. No, this… couldn’t happen.
One moment of fear gripped me, memories of stories, and of the thing I’d seen in the Unknowing, shucking people out of their skin like corn. But I wasn’t the same; the world wasn’t the same. Even if this was happening, I was not some weak human anymore.
Part of the Magnus Monsterverse.
AO3
--------
Martin and I spent the rest of the day celebrating my new job and pretending we didn’t feel like there was a threat to the whole world possibly looming over our heads.
Was something going on? Absolutely. Did we have further means to figure it out right now? We did not! Did we need stress relief? Yes.
And… well. We hadn’t really gotten the chance to be… goofy together. Silly. 
Dating.
Flirting. (As absolutely poor as mine was, he received it with grace.)
Eating each other’s ice cream, and… all those things.
Here we were, giggling over dropped whipped cream on a cafe table, leaning in, and being ridiculous.
I only saw him. I only wanted to see him.
He took my hand and brought it to his lips, smiling at me over my knuckles. “I’m dating a hot librarian, did you know?”
“Not a librarian,” I said. “Only a temporary worker. Shelver.”
“Bringing down hot librarian money ,” he said.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Right. Flush.”
“Absolutely rich,” he murmured, absolutely not meaning money, looking at me through his lashes.
Oh, Martin…
I’m sure, statistically, I must have been happier in my life, but at that moment, I could not think of one such time.
#
“I have to admit it,” I murmured, my head on his shoulder. “Quiet London is nice.”
“Right?” said Martin, his head resting on mine. We sat on a bench in a park called Hadrian’s Folly. (Not the Roman general, but an architect born eight hundred years later, who’d tried to turn this park into a palace and discovered it to be all but swamp, sinking his creation. You could still tour the upper rooms.) “Honestly, it… it’s nice. When I need to be alone, I can be. Truly. Or at least, according to my five senses.”
I knew what he meant. It was quiet, but oh… I still knew. Knew every mind that passed, knew the fleeting hearts that beat with such concerns all around, knew the weight upon them to be silent and show nothing and stay calm.
I did not yet know why they felt those things. Which was curious. I’d have to push to learn more, and I didn’t want to do that. I exhaled. “I just wish we had more time like this.”
“Maybe we will. We don’t actually know what’s happening. What the danger is. If there is any.”
“I think the Gerrys are right,” I murmured. “And I think that… possibly not-evil Jonah was genuinely trying to warn me of something.”
“So let’s go eat Leitner and cut it off at the pass,” Martin said, mostly joking. He threaded his fingers between mine.
“Ha,” I said. “If he’s cagey enough to make Jonah Magnus nervous, he’s probably even worse than a pair of haunted eyeballs.”
Martin laughed and began naming other potentially haunted body parts.
We grew quite ribald, and had anyone come near, I suspect we would have embarrassed them.
But no one did. In Quiet London terms, we were loud, but we were also left alone.
#
That night, tucked into his too-small bed, we slept. Or really, Martin slept, and I lay awake, trying to ignore the next logical step staring me in the face.
I wanted to learn more without losing myself. I knew I hadn’t exhausted my fellow Eye-based resources yet. Not at all. However, I didn’t want to see him.
I didn’t want to! But there weren’t a lot of us Eye-type folk here, curiously enough. I wasn’t sure why that was, and the Eye wasn’t telling me (tonight’s topic was the history of Nesalogus netscheri , the world’s rarest breed of rabbit). I’d exhausted the Gerrys; I already knew that even if I visited the other two, they would basically say, We already talked about this? And then maybe go make out with Michael, or whatever.
But Jonah was new, I told myself. He wouldn’t know anything, I told myself. It would be a waste of time, I told myself.
The Eye wanted me to talk to him.
The Eye still wanted us to… get along.
I fidgeted. Rolled over. Flopped over Martin, spooning him from behind like some weird ocular backpack.
“You good?” he murmured.
“No,” I moaned. “It wants me to talk to Jonah.”
“You’re probably going to have to, anyway,” he said.
“He’s not asleep.” I knew . “He’s waiting for me.”
“What… now?” Martin half sat up and checked his phone. “Jon, it’s two in the morning.”
“I’m sorry,” I said pitiably.
He rolled over.
This bed really was too small for us. Even on our sides, we were face to face, or pressed up close; and neither of us wanted anything else. (Which amazed me, because shouldn’t he want space from me?) “Do you need to go, Jon?” he whispered.
“It’s not exactly visiting hours.”
“Sasha doesn’t sleep. She’ll let you in.”
“You’re awfully calm about this,” I said.
“I’ve been over there this late.”
He said it so casually, so… so throwaway. But I knew, suddenly, why. Panic attacks; feeling the world go vague; terror that he’d just… lose himself, and wander Quiet London in a state of emptiness, or an empty city, or maybe that he’d make it empty, and wouldn’t even know, and—
“Martin,” I breathed. “How… how long have you been here?”
His eyes tightened. “A while.”
“How long has all this been going on?”
“A while.”
“Martin…”
He touched my cheek. “You don’t know how long I waited. How long I had to wait. I gave up, Jon.”
Here we were, lovers, together in a way we’d wanted to be in the non-apocalyptic world, and never had the chance… and I hadn’t known this about him. “I’m so selfish,” I whispered. “I should have asked.”
“If I’d wanted to talk about it, I would have,” said Martin. “If you need to go see her tonight, go on. You’ll be fine.”
“Hunters?” I suggested.
“They’re rare,” he said. “And you’ll be careful.”
“And we’re currently suspecting Leitner and have probably got on somebody’s radar,” I said.
He kissed my forehead. “And you can stop them. Which nobody else is able to do.”
He really had changed.
I mean. I knew that. Of course he had. So had I. But he… he was so much quieter. Solemn. The nervous fidgeting was just… gone; his caution, too, seemed to be largely lost, in odd ways. 
His focus on me was so very steady. Like I was the only light he could see. And I was missing something else. Something…
Forgive him , the Eye encouraged, but I had nothing to forgive. Martin had never wronged me. “You’re really encouraging me to go out in the middle of the night and see the younger version of a man I hated so much I ate .”
“Admit it,” he said. “You’ve done far weirder.”
I laughed. “I get it now. You’ve become the mad old wise man who lives in a cave.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “With a baking show. Also a blazing social life.”
“Blazing, you say.” Did I really have to leave?
“Absolutely hedonistic,” he said with a small smile, and kissed me. 
We were busy for a little while. I no longer felt nearly as anxious, and that truly helped. 
He exhaled slowly, forehead against mine. “I choose to believe you’re going to be fine. That you can handle whatever comes at you. That we will be fine.”
This sounded like a mantra. “I can get behind that.”
He looked at me again. “I waited so long. I don’t think I can do it again.”
“I love you,” I whispered. “I…” We weren’t each other’s… us. But we were. Weren’t we? “This is confusing,” I added.
“Yeah,” he said, not asking for clarification, and kissed me again.
“You sure I should go tonight?”
“Will you sleep if you don’t?”
I made a face. “Probably not.”
“You have to go sign paperwork and all of that tomorrow. Go see him. Might as well get it out of the way.”
“You really think this isn’t dangerous.”
“What I think,” said Martin, unblinking, “is that if I don’t choose to trust you now, and get all possessive and weird, I will be feeding the worst parts of myself. So I choose to trust you’ll be safe.”
He wasn’t okay, was he?
The Eye was silent; It didn’t know. This was Martin. It saw Martin. It didn’t analyze Martin. It saw him. Not helpful.
Maybe Martin had just… figured it out. Maybe he really was older and wiser, and I was worried over nothing.
He laughed suddenly. “Your face is a journey right now.”
“Caught me.” It didn’t matter if he wasn’t the one I’d known before. I knew I wanted him now. I knew I loved him now. At this point, I think we both would have known if we didn't fit. “All right. I’ll go.”
“I probably won’t sleep until you get back,” he said, watching me dress in the dark.
“Bribery,” I pronounced, and kissed him again. “I’ll be back.”
“Jokes aside.. If you do somehow run into trouble, please just run.”
I looked down at him, sprawled in his bed, watching me unblinking. “I will. I promise.” 
He touched my hand, and I left.
#
Quiet London was, big shock, even quieter at night.
Not much was open. Lights kept things feeling safe, but there just… wasn’t anyone. No music. No late-night plays letting out. People were awake; I felt them—more pf them lived in London than had in my time, because here, somehow, rent prices had stayed within the grasp of the common man.
It wasn’t really a comforting quiet, though. There was something abjectly miserable about it, though I couldn’t say what. Anticipation? No; a sourness, familiar enough to leave me almost knowing what it was, and yet just altered so that I could not immediately put my finger on it.
I could know.
“Yes, Jon, let’s do that, risking losing myself on a public street, alone and without help. Brilliant,” I muttered.
“Can I have a cigarette?” someone said.
I froze.
To my right was an alley. A shape stood there, human, swaying almost hypnotically, rhythmically, over and over, left and right.
Had I stroked out? “What?”
“Can I have a cigarette?”
No. No, this… couldn’t happen. 
One moment of fear gripped me, memories of stories, and of the thing I’d seen in the Unknowing, shucking people out of their skin like corn. But I wasn’t the same; the world wasn’t the same. Even if this was happening, I was not some weak human anymore. I stepped closer. “Does Leitner know you’re out here, doing this?” I snapped.
“Can I have a cigarette?” said the shape, swaying.
“Listen,” I said, taking a step closer. “I may be new, but I damn well know you’re not supposed to be hunting on your own.”
It swayed, mesmeric. Echoes wafted around it, things I heard not with my ears—cries, screams, the loss of life thanks to this horrifying creation. It had been hunting for a very long time.
Oh, I was getting angry. “Last chance. I will react with prejudice.”
“Can I have a cigarette?” said the shape.
I opened all my eyes and saw .
The angler fish was no solid thing, no proper, unified construct, and it began to peel, shreds of skin and the barest shape of a person beneath cracking and dropping away. The horrifying blob beneath that shape shuddered as if in pain (but it felt none, because it was not real), slivering and melting and falling apart in globs of stolen fat until all was gone.
Behind it stood the puppetmaster.
How could I be surprised, and yet not surprised at all? How could I even have missed the fact that I had met only one Stranger here in our entire group? Stranger-survivors were even rarer than the Eye's, and we were opposites, opposed, enemies.  
Especially this one. “Hello, Nikola,” I said. 
“Archivist,” said Nikola, her borrowed voice box just as twistedly bright as her old one had been. “Funny meeting you here in the middle of the night! I suppose you want to have a little chat. It does seem your style.”
And she—
This wasn’t the Nikola who’d been locked up. I knew that. So how the hell was she here?
I knew something else, too, as I stared at her, as she stepped out into the light of the street lamps, her hideously malformed plastic smeared with blood and gore, her ringmaster’s uniform shredded and faded: she was old . Very old. Much older than the Nikola I’d known. Impossibly so. She was far, far older than the portal Manuela had made to get to this place.
It was so funny, not being afraid of her anymore. Absolutely bizarre. “How did you even get here?” I started.
“Are you going to turn me in, Archivist?” she said. “I suppose they might believe you, though I don’t think you could actually force me to go with you. A manhunt, I think! How fun! Well, they wouldn’t find me. Not like that other .”
“The other you,” I said.
“Oh, yes! She’s a copy, you know.”
She…
I almost understood that. She was Stranger, and… well, that was the whole thing, wasn’t it? None of them were real . So a copy of a copy may not make a difference to the rest of us, but it did to them, for some reason.
But hadn’t they gotten that Nikola in the usual way? Scooped out of another world? How could that one be a copy of this one? This one… who had been feeding on people for so many years .
She wasn’t building toward the Unknowing. This was just for her. Taking children, taking people, keeping them in an impossible grip of terror and confusion until their bodies simply gave out. Torturing them and enjoying the absolute nightmare she put them through as they screamed, louder than they had ever been in their entire lives.
She’d been doing it for so long. “How dare you hurt people,” I hissed. “You could’ve gone any other way, could’ve joined us, could’ve been helped , and instead, you’re doing this? How dare you!”
“Funny words from a funny man,” said Nikola, clacking her filthy hands at me (one with eight fingers, the other with three). “You feed all the time… do you feel guilty? Oh, I’m sure you do . I’m sure it just eats at you, makes you question everything. I don’t, little Archivist! Isn’t that lovely? You could join me, instead, and avoid their gaze. You could be free of the worst wickedness!”
What the hell was she talking about? “I’m… I… I do not feed all the time, and you are changing the subject,” I snapped, ignoring her accusations of guilt, because of course I felt that, we all felt that, how could we not?
“Funny, funny man,” said Nikola. “I must go rebuild my prop, though, so if you’re all done being scary …” 
“I am not done being scary!” I blurted like an idiot. “I can’t leave you out here. Come with me, turn yourself in, or I swear to hell, I will destroy you.”
She stared at me, or I thought she did—whatever paint her face had once had was gone, burned away, leaving patches not quite in the right places for face, nose, eyes—and then, she laughed. Because of course she did.
“I mean it, Nikola.”
“I know ! That’s why it’s delightful. Do you think I’m going to… oh, what is that phrase? Come quietly?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Do you have any sense of self-preservation?”
“You are far more confident than my last Archivist,” she said, and (predictably) revealed a morbid history. “Chomp, chomp! He was quite gamy. And he cried.”
Yes, yes, she’d killed me, whatever . She was covered in the blood of innocents here . Why was I even fooling around with this? “We are not far from Sasha’s. You’re coming. Or you’re dying. Now. ”
The Eye was eager for both. Either. Whichever one didn’t matter. 
She sighed. “Oh, very well.”
She didn’t want to die. I had that to leverage over her. “Do you know where the hospital is? For our kind.”
“I do.” She sounded so bored.
“Lead the way. I am not taking my damned eyes off you.”
“As if you’d take them off me no matter where I walked,” she said, but began lurching up the street at speed.
“Nikola!” I snapped, and ran after her like an idiot. This was not what I’d promised Martin I would do. Oh, well! I was in it now, wasn’t I?
Sbe surged up the hill, her limbs moving slowly but covering great and terrible ground, and I knew I was going to lose her.
Idiot! I thought to myself, and taking out my phone, sent Sasha a message without taking my eyes off Nikola. Incoming Via Sacra going north passing Branzen’s pub right now Help Help
Right, that would tip her off, but the activity of running as fast as I could while watching Nikola and also looking at my phone was… dizzying.
Straining? No, not exactly, but this was splitting attention in a way I hadn’t done before. I was amazed I could, and sort of proud of myself, but also running out of mental space very damn quickly.
“Stop!” I called after her. “You’re making things worse!”
“I think not, Archivist!” Nikola called back at me from near the top of the hill. “I think the next meeting will be on my terms, don’t you?”
How dare she threaten me. How dare she threaten those I love, because if she was coming after me, then Martin was not safe—
Which was when Sasha hit her from the side like a wolf, or a truck, or a saber-toothed lion.
Hit her so hard that they both flew through the glass of a shop, and the sounds were nightmare—screeching and yowling, weird plastic torque and a howl that could have come from any damn thing, Stranger or Flesh alike.
No siren sang in response to that destruction, which in itself was bizarre, but I had no time to consider. I ran up, gasping, feeling the limitations of a body I did not understand at all, and found—
The Sasha-mass of flesh boiling and bubbling like smoke, battling some unspeakable thing in a shape I could almost identify, a creature I almost knew, which filled me with instinctive fear because, whatever it was, it was just a little wrong, and within it, Nikola wielded her disconnected limbs like clubs.
She hit, and the mountain of flesh that was Sasha bled, and though it did not seem to slow her down, it hurt .
She’d hurt her , hurt Sasha , and did it with joy. 
I would not permit. “Stop!” I roared, command in my voice, a weird echo I couldn’t explain and felt vibrating through my entire form, and the word cast forth from me with physical effect and swept before me like a wave.
Pieces of glass and carnage whipped up as if in a gust of tornadic wind, violent and concentrated. Nikola recoiled from my cry as if I’d somehow smacked her with an enormous glove.
Sasha shuddered, her form not quite returning to familiar and beloved woman.
Nikola fixed her gaze on me, and I knew. We both knew. She hated me, on a level I couldn’t begin to comprehend, and I knew she’d decided this was it. I wouldn’t let her leave. She wouldn’t let me. She would die here, or I would. 
She lunged.
Sasha tackled her from behind (neither of them had mass in the way understood, both a surging bulge of fear converging in will, affecting the physical world, but not of it), and slowed her enough for me to… react.
To…
Do something.
To fill with a thing I did not understand, to channel the helplessness and rage and other feelings I’d ignored and pushed down and denied, to feel the truth of what I spoke even as I spoke it, and I said these words with full knowledge of what they would do, and at the same time, absolute and puerile ignorance: “No.”
And with this word, I denied her.
Denied her right, denied her future. Denied her further chances to change her ways, to alter paths, to do anything other than shatter on the limit of my anger.
Nikola blew apart. Exploded. Slammed into me and the streetlights and the goods in this electronics shop and Sasha, and knocked me over and cracked the street and sent the fire hydrants shrieking water into the sky, and made the city shake and the earth sing and caught the attention of
Caught the
Caught the attention 
Something looking at me, something seeing me , something I’d disrupted, something too big to understand that turned toward me at the speed of galaxies, and I—
#
Sasha stood over me, looking normal, though her hair was a mess and had bits of glass in it. “Jon?” she said softly. “Hey. Hey, there you are. Look at me, Jon. Come on.”
Oh. I was on the ground.
Still no sirens, but for this place, it was awfully noisy: there were voices, and the sound of water being pumped over crackling fire. 
I hurt. So much. “What…”
“Martin’s on his way,” said Sasha softly. “Talk to me.”
“About what?” I said like an idiot. 
“Maybe what just happened?” she suggested.
A debrief. She desperately needed one, not just for her own sake. Terrible things had happened here, and she needed to know I was innocent. “Saw her,” I managed. “Offered a cigarette. Like the… the… angler fish.”
“I remember the angler fish,” she said, soothing. “What happened?”
“Confronted. She ran. I texted you, tried to keep up.”
“And what happened then, Jon?” she said evenly. “What happened while we were fighting?”
Something absolutely terrifying that no one else in this world could do and I did not at all understand.
Fuck.
Lie?
I felt the lack of that ability right now. I couldn't lie, not seeing like this. I saw her, saw the fire, saw the people fighting the fire. Saw the reporters, saw the news, saw distant people lighting up as if touched with some current as they learned of the weird incident here. 
I saw too much, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t turn it off . “I…”
“Just try,” she said softly.
Too many people. Too many emotions. Dreams and hopes and fears, lusts and disgusts and rages. Too many, flooding me, turning my tongue back into to eyes.
My own fears joined the world's. What would happen if I told her I didn’t know? Was I about to be locked up like the other Nikola? Would Sasha try to kill me? To help me? Was I going to lose my freedom? Would Manuela dissect me like a bug? I couldn’t make my tongue work.
“Let me help,” said Jonah Magnus, kneeling beside her. “He’s overwhelmed. Seeing too much. We called it inebrians cernentia—intoxicating visions.”
The children of parents who heard the news and feared some political rebellion and how it could affect their jobs and their lives, the police who suspected supernatural bullshit but had no way to verify or defend and had to pretend it wasn't weird, the—
She gave him a stern look. “Jonah, if you mess this up, you ruin all the progress you’ve made. You know that, don’t you?”
The conspiracy theorists who wondered if this was tied to Them, the foreign spies who parsed the official report of a gas leak and refrained from opinion until they knew more, the—
“Oh, of course,” said Jonah happily. “I would never harm him. You ought to know that.”
“Well, fine,” said Sasha. “Give it a try, then.”
Wait, what was happening?
Jonah smiled down at me, absolutely beatific; though clean-shaven, he’d kept his hair long enough to fall in those loose, golden curls. In a simple white t-shirt and jeans, he looked so damn normal . He’d catch a glance, perhaps, for being pretty, for being mildly cherubic in spite of a torso now revealed to be suspiciously wiry with muscle, but one would never know, looking at him, that he was one of the wickedest humans who had ever lived.
My own fear spiked.
“Oh, no, not that,” he said, his eyes widening. “No, no—don’t be afraid of me. Never of me. I adore you.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I slurred.
“This will,” he promised, and—
We saw?
My vision, in my mind, briefly split, all those lives and people and homes, all those opinions and broadcasts and feelings, the murmur of conversations and spike of emotional concern, all of it split , came apart neatly as if the glue had failed, and…
Relief.
I made a small sound, feeling as though I swam up from the bottom of a well. Getting better, feeling lighter, less overwhelmed.
Feeling… more me.
I stared at him.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” he said softly, eyes lidded, unblinking.
BROTHERS , the Eye chirped at me wordlessly.
Dear lord, get me out of here. I tried to sit up and groaned; my side felt… really awful. Burning and sharp and terrible.
“Easy,” said Sasha. “You’ve been impaled.”
“I what?” I blurted, looking down. Oh. Oh, I… lay on some kind of rubble with rebar sticking out of it? Out of me? Right through my side? Oh, I… oh. “That’s not good,” I said in a high, weak voice.
“Shhh. You’re all right. You don’t even have organs , Jon.”
“It hurts!” I said, because it should hurt, shouldn’t it, because I’d done something awful , and I didn’t even know what, and it was frightening, and—
“It’s all right, Jon,” Jonah purred. “Breathe—not that you need to, of course, but psychologically, it helps. You’re all right.”
“But it hurts,” I said like a stupid child.
“So see it,” he said. “See yourself free of it. See it gone, dissolved, turned to something so sweetly organic it cannot hurt you or the environment. See yourself free, Jon, because you can. ”
What was—
Why—
Why did his words matter?
I was angry over it, offended, even as what he said came true, because I understood (in a vague way I doubted I’d be able to repeat with ease) what he was saying, and freed myself from the horrible thing in my side.
It melted into sugar, into water, into nothing that mattered at all. Some laser-like awareness I hadn’t even noticed eased. Relief. Like stepping into shade, after standing in hot sun.
But I couldn’t quite envision being healed. I couldn’t see this body, couldn’t see myself, and so could not see the hole in my side closing. Now, it just hurt. I cried out.
“Jon!” Martin cried, running toward us, and anyone in his way was moved aside as if some unseen wave carried them. He fell to his knees beside us, practically showing Sasha away, and pulled me into his arms.
It hurt. It really hurt. I tried not to cry out.
“He’s wounded, Martin,” said Sasha. “But I think he’ll be all right.”
“This is my fault,” said Martin, and pressed his face to my head. “Oh, gods. Jon. I’m so sorry. I did this.”
“You didn’t do this,” I mumbled, and clutched his shirt. My hands shook. “I did this. Broke my promise to run.”
“I’m fairly sure the weird thing I just fought did this?” said Sasha. “No blame here.”
“No,” purred Jonah, who was watching me, who had not blinked, whose gaze held a sweetness I could not ignore, and it made me want to cry and I didn’t even know why. “No blame.”
Martin did a double-take. “What the hell are you doing out?”
“Therapy!” said Jonah with a bright smile.
“I think I’m passing out,” I told Martin, because these things should be communicated.
“Fascinating,” murmured Jonah.
“Sasha,” said Martin evenly. “I need a reason, right now, not to fucking drown something.”
“Let’s talk about it at the clinic, all right?” she said cheerfully, and stood.
Martin stood as well, holding me.
I felt drugged. Sluggish. Safe, with him. “Love you.”
Martin’s eyes filled. “I love you. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“This wasn’t you.” He needed to know. He shouldn’t feel guilty for this. “Broke my promise. I chased her.”
“I shouldn't have… what was I even thinking? What did I do?” he murmured. “Oh, gods. Jon, I’m so sorry.” Tears slid down his face now, dripping on to me, and his heart ached, pounded , and I could feel it, because I knew him.
No. No, I… I didn’t want him to feel this way. He shouldn’t be squashed with guilt, weighed down, his heart aching in his chest. Not my Martin. I couldn’t quite lift my hand to touch his face. “Not your fault.”
Sasha was talking to someone (police, I knew ), getting us out of here without having to make a report or anything, and they knew who she was, and she had power over them somehow (What? How?), and they were going to let her go, and I didn’t care.
Martin. Martin ached.
I couldn’t let Martin ache.
The Eye whispered, and I knew what to do. “All is forgiven, my love,” I whispered, too.
And the world
Changed.
The tiniest tremor, the shiver of reality shaking snow off its shoulders.
Jonah gasped.
“Oh,” said Martin, and stared at me. His eyes grew wide. “Oh,” he said again, more firmly, and frowned. 
He looked toward Sasha, and I didn’t understand. It was not a good look. It was… angry.
Then he shook his head as though discarding whatever that had been, and looked back at me. “You’re going to be all right. I’m carrying you to her hospital.”
“All right.” As if I had any problems with this. The pain was terrible; but the relief…
Jonah had… shuttered it all, somehow. Done, really, what I’d hoped Gerry would do: he’d shared the load.
I hadn’t even realized how much I was carrying. “I’m going to sleep now,” I murmured, because Martin had me, and I was safe.
“Incredible,” Jonah whispered. “Beautiful.”
Then Martin began to describe some truly inventive ways for him to violate members of his own family, and I let myself drift to sleep.
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sevikasmainwhore · 2 years
Note
hi! i love your writing style and how cute you make the themes on your posts! i was just going to humbly request (every arcane woman you do)
to react to a reader that is 6’7 and how they would feel!
again, i know you’re swamped with requests so no need to get to this ask ;) thank you for taking the time to read this and know that you’re loved by many on here
i wish i knew who you were so i could kiss you 💖
Arcane Women w/ Tall!S/o
Requested ⇢ Yes/No
Type ⇢ Headcanons ❥
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❤️ Vi felt small. Like really small. It never stopped her from trying to be the bigger person though. Always trying her hardest to protect you or even doing the simplest things for you. She doesn’t ask for you to reach for anything for her because she thinks it’s disrespectful. If she can’t reach it then she’ll either climb to get it or she just won’t get it. “If it was really important then I wouldn’t have to struggle” She’d say like it was her quote or something. But overall she finds you absolutely stunning. Often wonders how someone like you could find some like her attractive and would want to spend the rest of your life with. If you ever feel insecure about your height she’d either ask who’s making you feel like that so she could call Jinx and they tag team the person or she’d give you the most beautiful compliments ever.
💙 Caitlyn felt a mix of emotions. One hand she didn’t mind feeling like she was tallest in the world. On the other hand feeling small was a new feeling she’d have to get used to. But either way it went she loved you. When Caitlyn did her little case things when she laid them out on the floor she’d ask for your help in spotting anything she couldn’t see. If you ever felt insecure about your height Caitlyn always did her best to make you feel better. She’s had her moments too so you’d both just remind each other how your both beautiful no matter how tall or small and no one should ever make you feel like you’re less than. Caitlyn has never done it before but everyone once in a while she’ll ask “How’s the weather up there” just cause she can. It’s annoying but she’d be so proud of herself.
💛 Mel felt no different about your height. If anything it gave her more teasing room. Hates asking for help from you because it makes her feel less than but you always remind her it’s ok and that you don’t mind. Doesn’t really see any difference in the relationship really. But of course there are times when height is required. Mel’s favorite part of anything is when she’s exposing something to you and you’ll be gazing off somewhere, she’d pull you by your shirt collar to her height to get you to pay attention. It always gets you where she needs you and Mel would have this prideful smirk on her face everytime. All was well really especially if you ever felt insecure, Mel would remind you of how beautiful you’re height is and how she couldn’t have asked for a better partner. But don’t tell her who made you feel this way. She’s calling a whole lockdown until someone fesses up or apologize to you.
🧡 Grayson never felt any different. She’d laugh off if you ever had to reach up to something for her. Always lets you be the small spoon just so she could whisper sweet words in your ear. You may be taller but Grayson always had a way of making you feel small. It was probably how she talked or her voice in general but something about her always made you want to drop to your knees for her. You used to visit her at her office but stopped when you heard a coworker of hers say something about you. Grayson noticed and asked why you stopped and when you told her it was like all hell broke lose. After maybe a few days Grayson wanted to come walk with her to her office. When you did everyone had there heads down, quivering in fear, not daring to look up at you both until Graysons office door was shut. You had know clue what she did but it must’ve been horrible. You couldn’t help but laugh.
🤎 Ambessa was just about up there with your height, so things were smooth, you had nothing to worry about. Looking her in the eyes was nerve wrecking though. Her gaze was powerful it always made you shrink. To her your height made her loving you easy. How she’d always caress your cheek while complimenting you for the smallest thing, how she give you neck kisses that always lead to something else. It was always pure bliss. You’d only ever be reminded of your height if someone made you feel bad. Only then that’s when she’d step in. Nothing ever escalated though because she’s so intimidating they wouldn’t dare say anything else.
💜 Sevika felt weird. She’s always been the bigger person. So having someone, especially her s/o, taller than her was a new feeling. It took a bit of getting used to but as soon as she did Sevika was all over you. Sevika always liked showing everyone how no matter how tall you were she was always top dog. She’d grab you by your shirt collar down to her height, motion for you to bend down so she could tell you something or anything to make you feel small. But behind closed doors she’s asking you through gritted teeth to get something from someplace she can’t reach. Small spoon from time because feeling vulnerable and just small was a comfortable feeling to her. Don’t tell her someone made you feel bad about your height though. She’s threatening the whole Undercity and topside to confess or she’s taking matters into her own hands. She loved you no matter what or how she felt.
💟 Renata was just an inch shorter than you. She felt a bit conflicted at first because sometimes she’d have to look up to you but that feeling didn’t last long. Likes having you sit her in lap because how flustered you get and if it’s difficult to fit all of you on her lap she’d just sit you on her desk. Doesn’t mind looking up at you from that pov because you look so beautiful. Really once Renata got used to being slightly shorter than you loving you never felt different. She always treated you like you were more which you were. Neck kisses were her favorite because of how easy you’d let her in. You were always at a perfect angle for her. Would wonder how someone as beautiful as you could ever want someone like her. Like everyone else if you ever felt insecure, no amount of money could calm her down. You’d feel bad for everyone in the office building because they’d usually be the victim of this. At least until someone fessed up about who said something to you. Renata loved you no matter what and she would give you the whole world if she could.
🤍 Cassandra was used to having a partner taller than her so nothing ever changed. But Cassandra was the type of women to make you feel inferior to her anyway so…yea. Anytime she’d have a gala or ball she’d always get asked silly questions of “Who’s the man of the relationship??” or something along those lines. Always ignored them because they made both of you uncomfortable but mainly because she didn’t want you to feel like your height was a bad thing or a masculine thing if you ever felt it was or if you were uncomfortable about it. Didn’t want to make you feel like your bad or anything so she never paid any mind to your height. Always made you feel like everyone else but special treatment because your her lover. Cassandra would be an amazing lover.
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note: listening to Flight 22 while writing also I FOUND OUT HOW TO DO THE READING THING AHHHHHHHH IM SO HAPPY!!!!! also does anyone even read these???? 😭
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brothersgrim · 2 months
Note
Valentine’s Day Application
Name:  Bray Wyatt Age: 28 Do you like to cuddle? "We would be so close it's as if we shared ribs and a heart. I would teach you the meaning of true intimacy." Can we make-out? "Yeah, sure. A night in or dinner out? "A night in would be so much more intimate. I would rather have you to myself." Whip cream or chocolate syrup? "On you, both." Chocolates and roses? "Please, neither of us are so sentimental. We don't care for such simple pleasantries that are nothing more than cultural artifacts manufactured by corporate greed. No, for a gift I'd find you something far more suitable, more morbid, even." What makes you a good Valentine? "I love you more than anyone ever would or could. I understand you. I will never let you go." Would you cook for me? "Of course, how do you feel about jambalaya?" Would you let me cook for you? "I would love to have you cook for me." Where would you take me on a date? "The depths of the swamp to show you the beauty of the dark waters at night, when the moonlight shines in the refraction of the ripples."
Who’s paying? "For you, my time is always free." What did you get me for Valentine’s Day? "Eternity."
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He doesn't know why he bothered leaving his room. ... Then he downs his shot. Right, right. That's why he was here.
To get absolutely fucking plastered.
To forget.
It's a dark bar, the opposite of reputable, and everything reeks of cigarettes and stale beer and something else. Probably vomit. It's acrid like vomit, at least. He pours himself another glass from the bottle and it makes his nose burn enough he doesn't smell the bar anymore. He drinks that, too. It tastes like paint thinner.
Good.
He's not sure how long he's been sitting here. A few hours, at least. Long enough that the bartender's started giving him glances, but it had taken only one snarling glare to convince the skinny punk there were better ways to spend his time.
He likes to think his bad mood is justified. He's been dealing with today alone, as he deals with most things. Alone is safe. Alone is smart. If he handles it alone, he doesn't have to worry about someone else screwing up. (Or someone else getting hurt.) The only problem is, he's not sure how to deal with Valentine's Day.
He shouldn't care. It shouldn't matter what day this is. This is not a day of sacrifice. He doesn't have a fight tonight (he wishes he did). He has to plan his order schedule for when he gets back, he'll have to check on the Yard soon - it's been a while. A week, give or take, and that's too long. He'd rather be there. Give him souls to govern, skulls to break, laws to lay down, a three-count on the mat. Anything but being alone with his thoughts.
Kane is out with Cody, and Taker is happy for his brother, he is. Cody's a good man. Kane is happy. At the end of everything, that's all Taker wants. His brother is happy. He won't get in the way of that. He'd never dream of it. But still...
"Fuck Chris Jericho." He mutters around the rim of his glass. ('And why should you matter? You're nothing special. You've never been anything - you're just a man.') He swallows back another mouthful of fiery swill. "And fuck Steve Austin." ('What, son, did it bother you when I made those calls? Did it eat you up hearing the truth, remembering what you did? Or maybe, maybe it's the way your baby brother squealed when I snapped his arm again and again and again--')
"And fuck that driver--" ('ADAM-!') He tries to pour another drink. The bottle comes up short. He pulls up from his slouch and raises the empty bottle to the barkeep. "'M gonna need another one of these." And, as the stool beside him creaks, he grimaces. "Make it a double." He keeps his eyes stubbornly forward as Bray talks. He's waxing poetic, spouting off about this bullshit and that bullshit. He's really laying it on thick. If it were any other day, he'd tell Bray he was barking up the wrong tree. In a different situation, he'd take the bottle the barkeep had handed him (accepted with a grunt of gratitude) and smash it on Bray's head. As warped as Taker's perception is, he knows this is weird. There's an ominous river weaving its way through Bray's words that should send up every warning flag in the book.
But you know what?
He's drunk.
He's immortal.
He's miserable.
He's alone.
So he downs one more mouthful from the bottle, swallows, and takes the entire thing with him as he pushes away.
"Fine, fuck it." He mumbles, rising to his feet and glancing at Bray.
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"What'd you say 'bout jambalaya?"
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