#I wish I had the confidence to post my fics but I don't

[earl-grey-love]

😳 Let me tell you my feelings for Barbs are next level. I woke up suddenly possessed with inspiration and spent 5 uninterrupted hours writing a 5.3k word fic about him and my s/i before I even had coffee. I didn't even PLAN to write that much. Good grief.

#it's such a great outlet for my passion #he's so beautiful I can't help but write vivid descriptions of him and his personality and little details #I honestly feel kind of embarrassed about it but also I don't because I love without shame #I wish I had the confidence to post my fics but I don't #not that I doubt my writing skills or anything its more because its so personal #god forbid anyone understand why I feel the way I do about him #anyways I got no energy left I poured it all into writing about Barbs #ship: anything for you dear #yes they said that to each other in my fic too you best believe it #also I think thats like 25k words in total Ive written for Barbs now woweee #sunny speaks

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Do you think you could write something romantic and fluffy with Vil? I love him!

hi anon of course! I am so unwell about this man

summary: being friends with vil schoenheit has its perks type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, mentions of food, friends to lovers huhuhu, maybe a tiny bit suggestive but also not really? lap-sitting and kissing

Someone should write a guide on how to be friends with Vil Schoenheit.

It did not come as naturally to you as you would have hoped. There were times when he felt like a star in your presence, not the actor kind, but the heavenly body.

Bright, and burning, and millions of miles away. Even as he sat directly across from you.

"You're not eating," he remarks. The comment is not degrading, though it is tinged with curiosity. "Is it bad?"

You haven't even sampled the meal yet- something fancy and expensive that you likely couldn't pronounce. He'd ordered it for you.

"It's okay," you lie.

He either buys your excuse, or ignores it. Either way, he reaches across the gossamer table cloth and switches your plates without asking.

Vil Schoenheit Friendship Survival Manual, rule number one: always assume his judgment is correct, until proven otherwise.

You look down at the plate- some kind of vegetable dish. He urges you on with a nod, lilac eyes fixed firmly on your pleasantly surprised reaction when you take a bite.

Rule number two: his judgment is always correct.

"Better?" he asks, not bothering to finish your food. He'll likely get something else later. "You really shouldn't skip meals. If you were feeling unwell, you should have said so. I would've ordered something lighter for you."

"Sorry. Didn't think of it," you say, taking another bite of his meal, if only to appease him.

You're hesitant to mention that the heavy feeling in your chest wasn't from illness, and so you say nothing more.

"No need to apologize. Here,"

Vil delicately reaches across the table and dabs at the corner of your mouth with his napkin. You hate how light-headed such a simple action makes you feel.

"Better. And don't worry about smudging anything, I have a few new products I'd like to try out on you later,"

Rule number three: always accept his gifts.

"Thanks," you murmur.

You were starting to feel as if you really were ill, the way your entire body warmed in his presence. Vil brought out a feverish sort of stupidity in you that made outings like this a minefield to navigate.

How painfully cliché, you thought. Hopelessly in love with someone far out of your league, with infinite options, none of which you could even hope to catch up to...

It made these evenings together pure torture.

You felt guilty for wishing he wasn't such an amazing friend. Must he insist on showering you in gifts and holding your hand every time you cross the street?

But being in his bedroom is another, dirtier realm of guilt. Vil saw you as a friend. Platonic. Someone he confided in, who he took under his wing. You were allowed to see parts of him no one else had, and yet, you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying because you can't stop thinking about the way his lips look when he speaks.

"Did you understand any of that?" he asks, bending down to your level as you sit on his bed. On his bed. And you had the mind to be thinking about doing romantic things...

Rule number four: speak when spoken to.

"No, sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately,"

Vil clicks his tongue and holds a hand to your forehead, feeling for temperature. "And you're sure you're not ill?"

"I'm fine! Just distracted,"

He chuckles, walking across the room to peruse his vanity. "Hm... and what sort of thoughts have got you scatterbrained today?"

You can feel your skin burning again. He could tell, couldn't he? All these weeks of coming undone every time he so much as looks your way couldn't have gone over his head... could they?

Or perhaps he was just used to people staring at him, stumbling over their words every time he spoke. Perhaps you were just another foolish fan who'd gotten to know him before falling in love.

You couldn't help but wish that there was someone or something that would just tell you what to do.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Vil sits beside you, a small, wooden box in hand.

"I'm supposed to promote these next weekend, but I'm not sure about them, yet," he says, opening the lid to reveal a plethora of lipsticks that likely cost more than your existence. "I'll need your opinion, of course."

"Right," you murmur.

"And I'd like to try them on you, as well,"

"Of course,"

"And you're alright with that?"

You nod. Ever the gentleman, always asking for permission. He's been quite generous with his products lately, giving them away to you like candy. You're almost certain he has a full list of your allergens somewhere.

Vil returns to the vanity, delicately prepping, and then applying the first shade. It's a marvelous, metallic pink, with dark red undertones that make it a regal color. It suits him, and you say as much.

"Oh, you think so? I suppose it does compliment my eyes, although I'd definitely need to pair it with something darker, else it become too overpowering..."

He clicks his tongue, and then turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Your turn. Come sit,"

There isn't another chair at the vanity, and you take that as your cue to awkwardly stand in front of him until he tells you what to do. He chuckles, amused by some thought of his that he doesn't share aloud.

"What are you standing there for? Sit,"

You awkwardly look around the space, eyes searching for a mysteriously hidden stool, something that should have been obvious...

He smiles. "Oh, don't be shy. We've known each other long enough by now, haven't we?"

You can't think of the right thing to ask, although your thoughts are quickly cut off by the sight of him gently patting his lap.

Sevens. If there were any time to wake up, this was it.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

He's not joking, of course. Vil hardly jokes. And so, you awkwardly straddle his lap, facing towards him, and allow him to get a good look at your visage.

He holds your chin firmly, studying your features as if he hasn't already seen them a thousand times before.

"Stay still,"

He's going to give you a heart attack, and there's a little quirk in his smile that tells you he knows it, too.

You wonder what your tag at the morgue will say. Death by Vil Schoenheit?

He starts with your skin, commenting on how soft it's gotten since he met you, then your eyes...

...Once he's satisfied, as he always is with his work, he turns your head so you can admire the makeup look in the mirror behind you.

"Stunning," he comments. "But you're missing something."

You look back, eyes wide. Surely, he hadn't forgotten something...? That's simply not in his nature.

He smiles at your confusion. "Remember? You promised to test these for me?"

Right. The lipstick. You nod. "Yes, but, I thought you'd already..."

"Oh, I do like the color. I'm just worried about this brand," Vil says. He looks away for a moment, almost as if to summon his courage... what a strange expression on him.

"What's wrong with the brand?"

He turns back with a small smirk. "They have a nasty reputation for smudging easily. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself next weekend, hm?"

His cups your chin again, bringing you closer.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him!

He tilts his head to the side. "You don't mind, do you?"

You couldn't have shaken your head any faster, even with his grip on your chin.

"Good. Now, stay still. I think this will be a good color on you, anyway,"

He pulls you in with ease, letting his lips rest on yours for a second or two, before pulling back. Short but sweet, enough to make you feel like your entire body has gone numb.

He inspects your face, humming to himself...

"Good so far," he says, bringing you closer again. "But that was too safe. I won't hold back next time. Are you ready?"

You nod. Barely anything had happened, and you're already breathless. "Ready,"

Another smile crosses his perfect face, though he doesn't give you any time to admire it before he's kissing you again, one hand still cupping your face, the other holding the back of your neck and pressing you closer.

Definitely not a very platonic kiss.

It takes him longer to pull away this time, though when he does, it gives you a perfect view of his still-pristine makeup.

"Hmm... still nothing. I'm quite impressed with this line," he says, reaching behind you and returning with the wooden box. "How do you feel?"

Dizzy. Light-headed. Warm.

"Good," you say.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Or do.

"Not too much, I hope?"

A delightful realization was beginning to come over you, one that made all you had thought about him null and void:

No one else could possibly give you a guide on Vil Schoenheit, because he writes the rules himself.

"No. That was perfect,"

"Excellent," he smiles, and flips the box open again. "Because we still have six more colors to test."

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #GAH.

[huramuna]

lay all your love on me - oneshot.

modern aemond x wife reader 18+ minors DNI, you will be smited.

an early valentine's day piece.

word count: 2.2k

i don't do taglists any more unfortunately -- @huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: smut with little plot (specifics under the cut), bdsm themes, allusions to infertility, established relationship, no use of y/n, no description of reader, aftercare

lay all your love on me - ABBA • gimmie! gimmie! gimmie! (a man after midnight) - ABBA

warnings: bondage, edging, ruined orgasms, orgasm control, deepthroating, face fucking, ball-gagged, p in v, creampie, breeding kink, bdsm dynamics, dom/sub, brat taming, use of sex toys, knifeplay

You shouldn’t have listened to Aegon’s advice. Aegon, the brainless older idiot brother of your husband, gave you advice to spice up your marriage and hopefully, to conceive a baby– as he apparently had a few children running around, and this somehow made him an expert.

And you took it. 

It started off innocently; more dirty-talk, heavier touches, bites that left small marks of ownership for both of you to admire. It began to move onto silken sashes loosely holding your wrists together, fingers gagging your mouth. 

Then, it shifted with the creation of your safeword. 

“Pomelo,” you said, a tad more confidently than you should’ve. 

“Pomelo? That’s what you’re choosing as a safe word?” Aemond chuckled, perking his brow. 

“Yep, so you won’t forget.”

The bindings became tighter then afterwards, but not uncomfortable, of course. Aemond was a gentle husband in most facets, and this extended to his bondage of you. He would have you reassure him that they weren’t too constricting, weren’t chafing and were comfortably snug.

 Once his work was done and you soothed his worry, it was like a switch flipped in his head. Gone was your gentle husband of two years, and out came something primal and feral. It's always been there, right under the surface— broiling and writhing to come free, his blood set aflame. 

You realize now what amazing control your husband has— over himself, over his environment and most importantly; over you. 

That is how you ended up in your current situation— a cocktail of taking Aegon’s advice and stoking the flame of Aemond’s inner depravities. Your current situation being tied to a chair in red, silken sashes, adorned like a present ready to be opened, legs spread slightly, arms tied back. A matching ball gag muffled your gentle whines as a red bullet vibrator was carefully nestled in your folds. 

This was your Valentine’s Day gift to Aemond; allowing him to tie you up and edge you for as long as he wished, watching you almost fall apart each time— before he snatched away your release. He even tied a lovely little bow across your breasts; a treat for him for later. 

Saliva dribbled down your chin as you watched him; he was still dressed from work that day, business casual with black slacks and a white button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair pinned in a neat bun at the nape of his neck. He had his phone in his hand, changing the frequency of the vibrations on the bullet expertly placed just grazing your clit, teasing you and circling you. You looked a mess already, drooling and whining against the gag, toes curling at every minute sensation— while Aemond looked groomed and tailored to perfection, just watching. Cheeky bastard. 

Your eyes roved his form as he pulled up a chair, finally, across from you. You swore you could see the distinct bulge of arousal tightening around his pelvic region, but he turned around before you could confirm it. Asshole. You wouldn’t be surprised, with the insane amount of control that he had over himself, if he was willing away a boner, just to tease you. 

While he was turned away, you rubbed your thighs together, eager to ease some of the ache you felt from being denied. 

“You know you aren’t supposed to do that,” he chastised, somehow knowing you were getting up to no good with his back turned. “You’re being bad, love.” 

You responded with a few indignant grumbles, more saliva slipping from your lips and sliding down your chest. 

“Back talking?” Aemond mused, finally turning around, chair in hand. He turned it so he was sitting with his chest against the back of it, arms propped on the wood as he held his phone in an almost lazy manner. “That won’t do. You know I hate when you’re bratty.” he hummed, adjusting the speed once more on his phone. His voice said one thing, but his eyes said another. He loved when you were bratty— it gave him a chance to tame you. 

This exchange had been going on for thirty minutes already and you felt tears in your eyes at your ruined orgasms. You were screaming silent pleas to him from a look alone, your lashes damp with welling tears. 

“Does my wife want to come? I thought you had more stamina,” Aemond tutted, his voice perfectly trained to feign disappointment.

 You wilted under his faux admonishments, shaking back and forth against the bindings, chasing the high that would never come. The legs of the chair squeaked slightly as you moved it. 

“Don’t,” Aemond said firmly, turning off the vibrations completely and putting his phone aside. His voice took a darker note now, not like the playful scolding before. “You’ll hurt yourself,” he got up, hand stilling the chair. “Do you want me to touch you?” 

Your chest heaved as you nodded profusely. Yesyesyes, pleaseplease! Your skin crawled delightfully as he reached between your legs and slowly, deliberately slowly, pulled the bullet from your folds. It was soaked and slick. He reached up then and untied the gag, as well, rasping a finger over your poor swollen lips. 

“My poor baby,” he cooed, before pulling back. He began to undo his belt and your mouth filled with saliva instantly— that had to be some sort of pavlovian response, how pathetic— your eyes were trained on his hands as they flexed, discarding his belt and shirt, then his pants without much ceremony. Your eyes hadn’t deceived you earlier, he was rock hard, to a point it almost looked painful. “You’ll get yours soon, I promise.” he said, running his palm down his length as he positioned himself— one leg up on the chair you were on, one hand behind your head. ‘Open’, he mouthed. 

Your swollen lips opened as he guided his cock into your mouth. The salty, musky taste and smell of him, so familiar and comforting that it caused your eyes to flutter, enveloped your senses. He slid his length across your tongue until he nestled nicely in, drawing you in at the hilt. Your nose brushed his mound of neatly groomed short and curlies. He was all consuming, so in control— all you could do was look up at him. 

“You don’t need to do the work, baby,” he murmured. “Just sit there and look pretty.” his now free hand caressed your face, thumb drawing circles over your cheek as he began to move. It was slow at first, to help you get used to it— you were very used to letting him fuck your face, but it was always nice to start slow. You felt his cock slide in and out, against your tongue, prodding at your throat. 

Usually, he would put music on, or have the T.V on as background noise— but that wasn’t the case tonight. It was silent, save for the sound of the rocking chair, his soft pants of pleasure, and the downright vulgar noise of you taking him in your throat. It was straight up pornographic and you hoped that soundproofing the room had actually worked. 

His fingers curled in your hair. “So… good for me,” he praised, voice tenuous as he edged himself now, wanting to make it last. “So good, letting your husband fuck your throat.” he clenched slightly, stopping his movements and clasping two fingers at the base of his cock— a close call, apparently. Times like these were where you could see the edges of Aemond’s control frayed, like threads of an old sweater. It delighted you greatly, and you wanted to see him let go completely and lose it. You hoped tonight would be that night.

You caught your breath as he showered you with compliments, wiping away your tears. “Such a good wife, my sweet girl,” Aemond said, absconding from you temporarily to fiddle with something in his discarded trousers. “Gonna open my present now, yeah?” he returned, clicking a small switchblade open— one he kept in his pocket for miscellaneous purposes. The two of you have indulged in knife play before, and it’s something that particularly excites him.

 The flat of the blade pressed to your skin, the cool sheen of it making your skin prickle. He dragged it up carefully, the edge away from your flesh until it met the sashes at your breasts. Aemond sliced through them like butter, followed by the ones on your arms and legs, effectively freeing you. You gave a gentle sigh of appreciation and approval— as he always required before the final act, just to make sure you were alright. 

Once receiving it, he swept you up from the chair, picking you up with ease. He wasted no time pressing his mouth to yours, tasting himself on your tongue. Your brain felt full of fuzz and bees, still numbed by how badly you wanted to come. Your clit was practically throbbing, warmth spreading through your core as he took you to the bed— not the bed you slept in, but one you both had bought especially for the play room. He laid you down so gently that you almost forgot where you were— until you looked in his eyes and saw the eclipsed pupil, his usually calm blue eyes (one less blue than the other from his childhood injury) was totally engulfed by blackness. He reminded you of a shark, besotted to the primal urges of their nature when they smelled blood. 

His cock sunk into you without any resistance, like slipping on a lubricated glove. The fit was still snug, but eased some of the ache you felt. 

“Aemond…” you sighed softly, body relaxing as he rested inside of you. It felt like laying in bed after a long day, your bones softening. “Need you to fuck me, husband,” you continued. “Please.” you added after, remembering your manners. 

He just stayed there, still, staring at you. He didn’t move.

“Please.”

No response.

“If I am not blissfully fucked out in about five minutes, I’m going to bite you.”

Nothing.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplea–,” 

Your whining was cut off as he set an unrelenting pace, right off the bat, hammering into you with reckless abandon, bullying your sweet spot like it owed him something. But he, in fact, owed you something. You reached behind and pulled his hair out of the bun, letting it fall between you like a curtain of snow. His blown out pupils, his hair a mess, his movements were erratic– he was losing control. 

His hand supplanted into the soft of your hip, clenching onto it for dear life as he drilled into you. You pinched his free wrist as a reminder– to which he dutifully remembered, his digits falling to the apex of your thighs and rasping over your clit in rhythmic ministrations. Your legs locked around him in an instant, pulling him in impossibly closer as you continued to beg, you were so close, so close–

“P-please– can I?” you asked through broken whimpers.

He couldn’t even respond through his exertions, evidently chasing his own high– he gave a growl in response, nodding. You didn’t just tip over the edge, you were fucking pushed, as your pleasure came to an all consuming, mind numbing climax. Your neurons fired off on all cylinders, electrifying through your body and coming to a conclusion: Holy fuck. You felt wetness squidge between your legs as you soaked Aemond, in turn, gripping him like a vice. 

The mask of power he had been wearing slipped and fell off completely, as he scooped you up from the bed (without slipping out even once) and gripped you by the ass, pistoning up into you with feverish, animalistic panting. His fingers left red indents on your soft bottom, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, a dragon tasting his meal. His knees almost buckled as he came, a long grunt indicating it– as well as the coupled feeling of him emptying his balls inside of you. He gripped the wooden bedpost, angling you in one arm as he caught his own breath. 

His hair was plaited to his forehead as the sheen of perspiration glazed his skin, all the strength had been sucked out of him temporarily, exiting through his cock and into you, apparently. Yet, even still, he placed you back on the bed, bottom towards the headboard. He propped up a pillow under you and angled your legs upward. You were still thoroughly fucked out, so you let him handle you like a ragdoll, you bones jelly. It was your routine to do this specifically– as you’d been trying for a baby for the past year or so. 

Aemond returned (when had he left?) with a bottle of water. “Drink, love,” he murmured softly, his disposition back to that of the gentle husband. “Here,” he fluffed another pillow, this time putting it under your head. “You alright?” he asked, uncapping the bottle of water and bringing it to your mouth. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed back, sipping the water. “Food?” you asked simply, a goofy grin coming to your face.

“Of course, of course– whatever you want.”

“Thai.”

“Consider it done.”

–

When you inevitably tested positive for pregnancy about two months later, you chalked it up to your Valentine’s Day surprise that did the job– Aemond agreed. Aegon was disgusted, but also took credit for the dubbed ‘miracle baby’. 

Aemond wacked him over the head each time he said it, to which Aegon would run away and shout. “I got your wife pregnant, I got your wife pregnant!”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond smut #modern aemond smut #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #my writing #lay all your love on me

[farfromstrange]

If You Need To Be Mean | Matt Murdock x Reader

PART 1 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt can't take another step, but you won't let him fall apart on his own. And if he needs to be mean, he should be mean to you.

Warnings: Angst, self-loathing, hurt/comfort

A/n: This is the first installment of my follower celebration and Valentine's special. This is a more recent fic I wrote, but it's been in the vault for a couple weeks. I just wish I could hug him as Karen did because the one hug he got throughout the show was not nearly enough. I wrote this because of the scene captured in the gif below and got inspired by a certain set of lyrics in the song I Don't Smoke by Mitski. Enjoy this, and Happy Valentine's Day, you lovely people! Go hug someone you care about. Spend time with friends. Be nice to each other. And don't forget to love each other.

He’s so fucking soft.

He doesn’t look like it—this muscular, stoic force of a man who carries himself with a confidence that leaves the people around him speechless. 

He doesn’t look like the kind of man who would be soft. But you know him, and you know that no man could possibly be more gentle, more caring, and more vulnerable than Matt is when it comes to the one he loves and trusts more than anything in this godforsaken world. 

His undying devotion for you has turned him into an open book. Your fingers read the scars on his skin like Braille. When you look into his unfocused hazel eyes, analyzing the specks of forest green inside them whenever the sun hits his irises just right, you see the man behind the iron mask he wears to shield his fragile heart from the world. 

You’re well aware of the hurt he has been through in the past, the hell he walked through to get where he is now, and you have never admired someone more than you do him. You have never felt more willing to surrender your entire being to another person because, in return, he offered you all of him. He did not do so from the beginning; it took Matt a while, but when his facade finally cracked and he broke down at your feet, you were more than willing to catch him.

On broken knees and bloody palms, he would crawl home to you. He would walk the same path Jesus walked with the heavy cross on his back if it meant holding you one last time. And he would die for you. 

He proved that time and time again, and you had never been so scared as when you thought the love of your life would never make it back home to you. That you would never get to see his smile again or feel his arms around you. You knew then that what you two have could only be true love. 

Whenever he touches you, your world is set on fire. It’s his way of seeing you. Feeling your pulse, feeling your skin, touching your face—he wants to memorize every inch of you every day, embracing all the changes he finds along the way and loving you even more for it.

You would go anywhere he goes, even if that meant following him to the end of the earth and jumping into the abyss with him; you would do it. You would do it all if only you could stay with him forever. At times, it’s sickening how deep your love runs, and how attached you are to him, but no one has made you feel this way before him. 

He makes you feel wanted, cherished, and desired. He proves to you how amazing you are every day, and when he forgets—when he pushes you away or gets lost in his head and you have to pull him back from the edge he doesn’t fall off again, he repents for what he believes to be the greatest sin he could ever commit, which is hurting you. Breaking your heart. But you have not left him, and you do not plan on doing so. Ever. You told him as much.

Matt Murdock is as endlessly devoted to you as you are to him.

You get to his vulnerable—his shattered—side in different ways on different days. Sometimes, he needs to cry, and sometimes he just needs to be mean. He needs to be mean, and he needs to beat someone up, but there come days when beating up someone else isn’t enough, and he takes it out on himself. Those days are the worst. 

He’s not infallible, and he’s not perfect, but you can’t stand to see him hurting. He doesn’t deserve it, no matter how badly he insists that he does. 

You can tell that he just wants to scream sometimes. You fight, you argue, but never when he’s feeling his worst. When he’s feeling his worst, Matt bottles it up. He bottles it up to the point he beats his fists bloody at Fogwell's Gym, needing you to patch him up after. He doesn’t even cry when you kiss his knuckles. He doesn’t cry when he accidentally opens them back up and it burns so badly, his cheeks turn red from the sheer agony.

Sometimes, we all need to cry, but Matt hates doing it in front of you. He hates taking it out on you. And he would rather blame and hurt himself than drag you down with him, which is something that you wish you could take away from him, but you never know how. All you can do is react when he finally spreads himself open for you. All you can do is hold him when he lets you, but more often than not, that is more than enough for this broken man you feel honored to be able to call yours. Only yours.

You’re standing in the doorway to his bedroom, wearing nothing but his shirt. The fabric carries his scent, mixing with yours on your bare skin.

It’s not a sexual thing. Not tonight. Not most nights, either. You wear his clothes and use his shampoo because you know how sensitive he is, and whenever you’re with him, you want him to be comfortable. When you smell like the both of you instead of the world outside of the four walls of his home, he can melt into you. No distractions, no limits, just the two of you, together.

Matt walks through the front door, dropping his bag by the door and his keys in the bowl. He tears the glasses off his face, having left indentations on the bridge of his nose from how long he had been wearing them all day. He has a black eye, and without his glasses, he fears that their clients at Nelson, Murdock, and Page might feel discouraged to come to them if they saw him purple and bruised.

You understand where he’s coming from, but he’s suffering. You want nothing more than to ease that suffering. To be good to him. For him. With him.

You look at him and you see a beautiful vase. A vase that was dropped on expensive marble floors and shattered into a million tiny pieces. Now, someone has to glue those pieces back together because the vase is too precious to let go to waste. You see a man who has been wearing a mask all day, every day, and all night, too—an invisible one that has nothing to do with the physical battles he fights for Hell’s Kitchen after the sun sets.

Matt feels like he is losing all control. Your concern only adds to his mental load. You try to hide it, but he is a bloodhound. He can smell, hear, and feel everything. Every little change in your behavior gets noticed, and you can’t hide how you feel about him.

The grabby hands of the outside world refuse to let him go. He can’t tune it out. It’s written all over your face. And you feel so utterly helpless, you could cry. You want to cry for him.

You exhale a soft sigh when he approaches you. “Matt,” you murmur. 

He sniffs. His eyes glisten in the soft yellow luminance of the Billboard outside, projecting a tragic beauty onto your beaten hero. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answers, his voice cracking halfway through one simple word. 

“So, everything?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” Matt nods, “Every-fucking-thing.”

His invisible mask falls to the ground, and with it, his defenses crumble. 

“I, uh…I can’t–” He steps in front of you, and his bottom lip quivers with the weight of a thousand different emotions that flicker like a burnt-out candle. “I can’t do this alone anymore,” he says. 

Your heart breaks. He’s towering over you, yet all he wants is to fall into you. You have to catch him before it’s too late. 

A tear rolls down his cheek. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t...I can’t take another step.”

“You’re not alone,” you whisper. “And you don’t have to–you don’t have to take another step if you don’t want to. You can take a break. You can breathe. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

Matt falls into your open arms. You close them around him instantly, chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart. His sobs reverberate in your ear, and the salt of your tears mingles with his on the skin above your collarbone. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair and ball into a tight fist. You can’t let him go. He would fall apart if you did. “You’re gonna be okay,” your voice remains barely above a whisper. The cadence resembles a soft wave of vibrations that shake him to his very core. “You hear me?” you say. “You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

He grunts. 

“You always think that you have to function, but you don’t. The city may need you, but you need yourself even more. You can take a step back.”

The muscles in your shoulders protest when he digs his fingers in with such force that it almost makes your knees buckle. This is the storm he so often keeps from you because he’s afraid it might hurt you, but you can weather it. You can weather it for and with him. The pain is worth it if it means that he gets what he needs. If he needs to cling to you like a lifeline, you will stand still and bear it. Your love for him knows no bounds. 

Feeling you flinch, Matt’s grip on you loosens. You’re not having any of it. You pull him closer by the waist, and you say, “If you need to be mean, be mean to me.”

“Stop it,” his words resemble a strangled groan. 

“No. Let it out.” You sound so earnest, the truth becomes hard to miss. “I can take it.”

“Please.”

You shush him. He’s crushing you under his weight, but that is exactly what you wanted. Your arms are his shelter, his solace, and everything he needs to survive. 

The tsunami of emotions wrecks him, and he cries like he has never cried before. Through all of it, you are his unwavering pillar of calm. His lifeline. The one thing that remains consistent, and the only thing he can always count on. 

He’s so soft. The world doesn’t deserve him, and you will spend the rest of your life trying to protect his heart with your own.

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #hurt/comfort #reader insert #charlie cox #lizzi’s vault

[kmartinswife]

kate martin x reader

heyy!

this is my first ever post on tumblr after being on here for 2 years... this is also my first attempt at a one shot/fic so please give me any pointers or critiques!!

———

words - 1050

a bit angstyyy but not really

warnings? just maybe alcohol and kissing.

Two weeks had passed since the end of your undefined relationship with Kate, and it had taken a toll on you. While spending countless hours together, flirting and being more than friends, it suddenly came to an end over some miscommunication. You didn't understand why she flipped out over nothing, and the pure dramatics she showed scared you from trying to reconcile. Both of you decided whatever you had was done and assumed it was over. 

Since both of you play for the Iowa Hawkeyes, you see her every single day. To the best of your knowledge, the rest of the team never caught on to the shared laughs, sneaking around, and secret glances. Your eyes still linger on Kate longer than anyone else, especially when she's laughing it up with Caitlin and Gabbie for what feels like hours. You wished it was you that was making her eyes light up and her smile wide, not Caitlin. 

You had tried to stay upbeat and confident, but it was hard when Kate paid no more than necessary attention to you. All you wanted was to reverse back 14 days and fix your fight. Apologize. Make her listen. Anything to get her back laughing with you and hanging out whenever you didn't have classes or basketball. 

At the 20 day mark, Iowa had come back winners from a home game, and the team decided a karaoke bar was the best idea for celebrating. You had played an amazing game, putting up your best numbers of the season. Kate hadn't even batted an eye. The press conference was a joke to you, reporters congratulating you and asking you how good it felt, but in all honesty you felt like shit over an ex-situationship. 

Hannah had to practically force you into coming to the bar after telling the team you had too much homework to party. This is how you ended up in your tiniest top and best-fitting jeans slouched on the bar alone, watching Kate flirt with a random girl. Jealousy filled you. Could she not do this another time? Why did it have to be when you were watching? 

"You played pretty amazing out there tonight," Gabbie approached you and took a seat, "and it's clear you dressed up a bit more than usual, but you're still sulking in a corner. Tell me what's up. Please?" 

You sighed and turned to look her in the eyes. Her eyes looked soft back at you as you stayed silent. You slowly gazed away and back toward Kate and her new girl. Gabby must've caught on. 

"Caitlin and I know about you two. She wants you back, if you can't tell," Gabby told you, "she was a mess before the game tonight. She's been a mess."

You guys discussed it, and you both were going to keep it a secret, you don't understand why she told multiple people. You finally found your voice, "It doesn't seem like she gives a fuck about me anymore. Look at her. I don't know if I ever made her as happy as that random drunk girl is," you stated.

"Come on, you know she missed you. She regrets walking away like that. Just talk to her, please?" Gabbie pleaded. 

Kate had left the girl and was now standing alone at the bar. She was leaned up against it, staring at Gabbie and you, displaying an unreadable expression. She was wearing dark black jeans, and a tight halter tank. Kate's hair was in a low bun, with chunks pulled out to frame her face. She looked hot. No wonder that girl flirted with her, Kate was astonishing tonight. 

"Gabbie, she's ignored me for the past few weeks. What do I even say to her?" You asked, nervous because of Gabbie's pressure. 

"Tell her how you feel. I am one hundred percent sure she will open up to you. I hate seeing you both like this," Gabbie replied. 

"Okay," you replied, and Gabbie gave your back a quick tap before turning away to play a drinking game with most of your teammates. 

You sat with your thoughts for a moment. Of course you forgave her, she was Kate after all, and it was really just a heated moment. Neither of you made a move to sit beside the other. There was a good chunk of room separating the pair of you, far enough you could hardly see her in your peripheral vision. You didn't believe you had the confidence to face her right now. 

Busy in your thoughts, you didn't realize Kate had plunked herself down right beside you. Neither of you looked at each other, rather choosing to remain cold and stare directly forward. She nested a rum and coke in her left hand, slowly pushing it around, revealing her rings decorating her fingers. The rings you used to love so dearly. 

“I should have stayed,” she started, “I’m sorry.”

You sat with it for a moment. Not daring to look at her. You knew you forgave her, so why was it so hard to get the words out?

“I really disliked not being listened to, Kate. It really hurt,” you said. You felt mature, putting your feelings out for show, “I want to understand you, that's all I ever wanted. But I cannot understand why you stormed out.” 

She turned to you, “In the moment, I was upset. I've run it through my head hundreds of times. I was unsure of what to do, so I left. I don't think I was ready to have a relationship-level fight with you. I just didn't want to hurt us. I want us back to normal — actually, I want more than normal with you, I don't want us to be a secret.”

You huffed and took a sip of your drink, “I understand. Thank you for apologizing,” you replied and turned toward her, looking into her caring blue eyes, “oh my goodness, I have missed you.” 

You leaned in for a hug and Kate accepted gratefully. You both missed each other so much. The embrace lasted as you were reminded of her simple, yet perfect, perfume, and the warmth of her skin. God did you miss her.

“You played so well tonight, it was amazing. You're amazing,” she told you as you leaned out of her embrace. 

A wide smile grew onto your features and you knew you were back on track, “Want to get out of here?”

#iowa wbb #kate martin #kate martin x reader #iowa hawkeyes

[sillydestiny]

Hello haruhi! I'm new to your blog but I absolutely love your posts! My fav is the cale henituse fic "losing you" 😭

Seeing as your requests are open I was thinking if I could request a pinning! cale x f!reader. I don't know how much info/detail I should put into this but I had something around the idea of him just realizing he's in love with the reader with her being his closest confidant and always taking care of him and making sure he's alright! Maybe something cute and fluffy? A dash of angst if you feel like it?

I hope you have a wonderful day/evening/night!🤗

Blossoms of the Heart

Cale Henituse x Reader

2.2k words / fluff

The plaza terror incident had left chaos in its wake, but amidst the panic, Cale found an unexpected ally. As the boomers threatened to wreak havoc, a mysterious figure, concealed in a hood, used magic to shield the three boomers from causing further damage. Raon, the magical being accompanying Cale, was quick to sense this assistance.

"Human, human, there's also someone casting another magic! It's a magic barrier!" Raon's words echoed in Cale's mind, stirring his curiosity and concern.

With the information from Raon, Cale's mind raced

Who?

As the boomers were finally safe, Cale found himself coughing up blood, a sight that alarmed those around him. Unfazed, he assured them he was fine, typical of his nonchalant attitude towards his own well-being. Raon continued to communicate with Cale, revealing the figure who had aided them—a person who wore a hood that concealed their identity.

Cale's gaze swept the crowd as Raon's words lingered in his mind. Then, he spotted a figure, shrouded in a hood. A powerful gust of wind suddenly blew, causing the hood to fall, revealing a person of surprising strength and beauty. Cale, who rarely cared about appearances, couldn't help but notice the figure's attractiveness – pale skin, silky hair – a beauty that stood out even in the midst of chaos.

Raon, too, sensed the identity of the helper. "Human, that's him! That's the one who helped us earlier," Raon exclaimed in Cale's mind.

However, the mysterious figure swiftly retreated, as if aware of Cale's gaze. The fleeting encounter left Cale intrigued, and he turned his attention back to Taylor and the others who were still in a state of panic.

In a silent exchange with Choi Han, Cale conveyed his intention for Choi Han to investigate the mysterious helper. As Choi Han left to follow the figure, Cale couldn't shake the feeling that the person knew something crucial about the situation

-------

Later, after Choi Han successfully caught up with you, Cale finally had the opportunity to speak with you. The conversation unfolded, revealing that you, too, were in a similar situation—a transmigrator who fell asleep while reading a novel and woke up in this bewildering world.

Your words struck a chord with Cale as you explained, "Would you believe me if I said that I know because I read it in a novel before waking up here?" The revelation resonated deeply with Cale, who had experienced a similar phenomenon himself.

The air between Cale and the reader crackled with the weight of their shared experiences. Cale, contemplating the newfound revelation of another transmigrator, felt a strange connection forming between them. The realization that Kim Rok Soo, the man inhabiting Cale's body in another world, might be experiencing the same disorienting journey struck Cale with an uncanny sense of solidarity.

Amidst the conversation, Cale couldn't help but be intrigued by the dreams each harbored. When he asked the reader about their aspirations, the answer echoed with a simple desire for a normal and peaceful life. Cale, usually a proponent of a slacker lifestyle, found himself drawn to the similarities in their dreams.

As the reader calmly expressed their wish for a tranquil existence, Cale's mind raced with thoughts. He saw an opportunity, a mutually beneficial arrangement that could aid them both in navigating the challenges of this new world. Cale proposed a deal, the terms of which would be set by him, and the reader, composed and sipping tea, listened intently.

"What kind of deal?" the reader inquired, setting down their tea with a focused gaze.

Cale, his face stoic, laid out the terms. "You will be by my side in any situation that includes the plot."

The reader, adjusting their hair, responded with a calm acceptance, but with a condition of their own. "The terms of the deal can be set by you. I want one thing."

Cale, intrigued, asked, "What do you want in exchange?"

The reader's answer was simple yet profound. "Money."

Cale agreed to the deal without hesitation, recognizing the reader's strength in using magic. "You will accompany me, and in return, you'll receive financial support."

Little did he know that the reader, while reading "Birth of a Hero," had also delved into another novel— "The Trash of the Count's Family," featuring the main character, Cale Henituse. The reader kept this information to themselves, 

The reader kept this information to herself, knowing that revealing it might stir unintended consequences. Cale, after all, had strong opinions about being a main character, and she wasn't ready to disrupt the narrative in such a fundamental way.

As the deal was solidified, the reader couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. While she had desired a normal and peaceful life, the impending wars and conflicts on the horizon threatened to shatter that dream. With a sigh, she accepted the reality that her life in this new world would be more chaotic than anticipated.

"Well, I guess my life will be more chaotic as usual,"

Months and years had passed since the peculiar alliance between Cale Henituse and the reader began. Over this time, the reader had seamlessly integrated into Cale's world, becoming an unwavering presence by his side, supporting him in his endeavors and contributing her strategic acumen to their shared plans. The initial transactional nature of their partnership had evolved into a genuine camaraderie.

Within the past month, the reader had not only proven herself as a reliable ally but had also formed close bonds with Choi Han, Lock, and especially Rosalyn. The shared affinity for magic had quickly united the reader and Rosalyn, leading to collaborative experiments and the exchange of ideas. Their friendship grew rapidly, becoming a testament to the connections forged in the midst of their shared adventures.

A remarkable development occurred in the reader's relationship with the children—Hong, On, and Raon. At first, the trauma they carried made it difficult for them to approach the reader. However, displaying an understanding heart, the reader patiently broke through those barriers. Over time, she became a motherly figure to them, offering midnight snacks, gentle pets, and unwavering care. The children, once distant, now adored her, finding joy in just catching a glimpse of her figure.

While the reader's interactions with Cale were primarily bound by the terms of their agreement, a subtle undercurrent of something deeper began to flow. Cale, ever the pragmatic strategist, valued the reader for her calm demeanor and insightful contributions. As their alliance unfolded, he couldn't help but acknowledge the reliability and resourcefulness she brought to the table.

During moments of peril, when Cale overexerted his ancient power, the reader's concern for him was palpable. Despite knowing about the Vitality of the Heart that kept Cale safe, her worry was genuine, and Cale, in his own way, appreciated the sentiment.

Cale saw you as reliable ally you always calm and strategic mind when giving a plan or opinion to his plan and conaidering both of similar situation waking up to this world because of novel

interactions often revolved around shared goals and common enemies, where the reader's strategic mind proved invaluable to Cale's schemes. As plans unfolded and dangers loomed, Cale couldn't help but appreciate the reader's intellect and resourcefulness. Yet, amidst the chaos, the thought of a deeper connection lingered in the background, unnoticed by both parties.

Cale trust you.

As the months passed, a subtle transformation took hold of Cale Henituse, a man known for his nonchalant demeanor. Emotions, once foreign to him, began to bloom in the quiet corners of his heart. It was a strange yet exhilarating experience, one that he couldn't quite put into words. The presence of the reader seemed to be the catalyst, stirring a spectrum of feelings within him.

There were moments when Cale couldn't escape the fluttering sensation in his chest, especially when met with the warmth of your smile or the melodious notes of your laughter. The concern mirrored in your eyes during his darker hours resonated deeply with him. The reader, unbeknownst to themselves, had become more than just an ally; they were Cale's closest confidant, a pillar of support in the unpredictable landscape of his tumultuous life.

In the quieter moments, Cale found himself drawn to the reader's presence. There was an unspoken understanding, a connection that transcended the need for words. The reader possessed an innate ability to read him, to sense his unspoken thoughts and emotions. Their reassuring presence became a balm for his troubled soul.

Stolen glances became a regular occurrence, moments when Cale's gaze lingered a beat longer than usual, absorbing the details of your presence. The well-practiced facade of indifference crumbled during these stolen moments, revealing a softness that betrayed the depth of his emotions. Cale couldn't deny the warmth that enveloped him whenever you were around. It went beyond friendship, evolving into something deeper that he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge until now.

Choi Han, Rosalyn, Ron, Raon, and the rest of the group began to notice the subtle changes in Cale's behavior. Choi Han, always observant, caught onto the small gestures first. Thoughtful gifts and considerate gestures, once foreign to Cale, became a silent expression of affection. Trinkets were discreetly slipped into the reader's possession, each one a carefully chosen token of his feelings.

Raon, Hong, and On, with their keen perception, also picked up on the shifts. They noticed the softening of Cale's eyes whenever the reader smiled, and the three little creatures couldn't help but share knowing glances amongst themselves.

The rest of the group observed the transformation in Cale's body language. Casual touches and lingering glances, the unconscious following of the reader's movements in a crowded room — all spoke volumes. Even Hans, the ever-discerning butler, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the newfound tenderness in Cale's interactions.

However, amidst all these observations and changes in Cale, the reader remained oblivious to the subtle transformation. The reader, focused on supporting Cale and navigating the challenges they faced, was unaware of the storm of emotions brewing in the young master's heart

Days later, Cale became aware of his feelings.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the expansive field. Flowers of various colors swayed gently in the evening breeze, their petals catching the last rays of sunlight. Cale Henituse and the reader found themselves on the outskirts of a quaint meadow, a tranquil haven away from the chaos of their unpredictable world.

Amidst the blossoms, the reader stood, captivated by a particularly exquisite flower. Their eyes traced the delicate petals, and a soft smile played on their lips. Cale, a silent observer, leaned against a nearby tree, watching the scene unfold. The ethereal quality of the moment seemed to amplify the connection between them, as if the universe conspired to create a canvas for emotions to unfurl.

There was a tender intimacy in the way the reader's fingers delicately brushed against the petals, in the way their eyes reflected admiration for the beauty before them. It was a snapshot of serenity, a moment that seemed to freeze in time, capturing the essence of something deeper.

Cale's gaze lingered on the reader, and in that stillness, realization dawned upon him like the first light of dawn. The way his heart fluttered as he observed the reader, the warmth that spread through his chest—it was more than admiration. It was a profound acknowledgment that the person before him had become an irreplaceable part of his world.

The subtle breeze rustled the leaves, and as the reader turned to meet Cale's gaze, there was a moment of unspoken understanding. Their eyes held a shared secret, a connection that transcended words. Cale, usually adept at navigating the complexities of life, found himself at a loss for how to articulate the emotions swirling within him.

As the reader approached, a question lingering in their eyes, Cale hesitated. The vulnerability of the moment gripped him, and for the first time, he struggled to find the right words. Yet, the truth hung in the air, unspoken but palpable, like the fragrance of the flowers around them.

"You have a way with flowers," Cale finally spoke, his voice softer than usual. It was a diversion, a subtle acknowledgment of the beauty before them and the emotions that danced in the spaces between their words.

The reader, attuned to the shift in the atmosphere, smiled knowingly. "Nature has its own way of expressing beauty," they replied, their gaze meeting Cale's with a warmth that mirrored the setting sun.

Cale, known for his pragmatic approach to life, found himself grappling with newfound emotions that defied logic. The term "love" had always been an enigma to him, a concept best left to the poets and dreamers. Yet, here he was, standing in a meadow as the realization dawned—the person who had once been a strategic ally had become the linchpin of his world.

Love had taken root in his heart, a delicate bloom that unfolded in the quiet moments amidst nature's beauty. The stoic facade that had defined Cale for so long began to crack, revealing a vulnerability that mirrored the fragile petals surrounding them. As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the meadow, Cale's heart echoed with the unspoken truth—he was in love.

"Hello Nacrise! Thank you for your request; I really appreciate it! I apologize for taking so long, as my mind was blank, and I couldn't fully think about the scenario I wanted. Thankfully, I've managed to finish it, and I hope you like it! if i have time i can make a part 2 of this!

#tcf x reader #totcf x reader #trash of the count’s family #cale henituse x reader #cale x reader #manhwa #manhwa x reader #trash of the count’s family x reader #gn reader

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Hi there! I read your cassian fic you posted and absolutely love it!! I was hoping for more cassian x reader content, with a similar reader (shy, insecure). Perhaps she gets her period and tries to go through training and all without bothering cassian about it because she doesn't want to be a bother. But the pains become too much and cassian eventually finds out...ensue lots of fluff ❤️

Perfect mate.

Cassian x f!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings; no warnings just pure fluff.

I don't know why but every time I write something about Cassian my heart melts and I feel so safe and comfortable. I enjoyed this request so much since I'm also on my period so thank you!Hope you enjoy it too!

For the first time since you met your mate you were glad that you woke up alone as pain filled your body and you groaned. You knew your circle was coming because your power was out of control for a week now, so you were prepared. You slipped out of bed with a groan and grabbed the bottle you kept on your nightstand, Madja had given it to you a few days ago it was supposed to help with the pain. You drank half of it and headed to the bathroom, you needed to get the smell off you so Cassian wouldn’t notice.

He wouldn’t have a problem with it on the contrary he would do anything in his power to make you feel comfortable and ease your pain, but you didn’t want to bother him, it had been a while since Prythian was at peace again and you wanted to let him enjoy it until something else came up.

After your bath you got dressed and walked to the dining room to get breakfast, you took a seat and a plate filled with food appeared in front of you. You stared at it, nausea hit you like a brick and you almost gagged. Okay no breakfast, I can do this. You thought and hurried off to the roof.

Cassian was already there, he was shirtless and sweaty, and you almost drooled at the sight, your cheeks burned, and you lowered your gaze. You had obviously seen him naked multiple times before, but you still couldn’t get used to his beauty. Cassian noticed this and smirked.

“It’s okay doll stare as much as you want it’s all yours” his voice was deep and melodic and sent shivers down your spine. How did you get so lucky? Not only he is hot, but he also treats you like a queen, your every wish is his command and he has helped you get out of your shell more than anyone. Every shaky step you took in order to become more confident he saw it as a huge success and cheered making you try harder.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable it was just a joke” he pulled you out of your thoughts and you noticed his worried eyes.

“What? No, I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you as my mate” you smiled and walked up to him. His frown turned to a grin, and he grabbed your waist pulling you so close that you could feel all his muscles.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He whispered and kissed your head. “But this flattery won’t get you out of training” he chuckled, and you slapped his chest.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were panting, Cassian wasn’t going easy on you and the tonic Madja gave you was wearing off, the pain emerging stronger than ever. You lost your balance at the same time as Cassian kicked and his foot landed on your side making you gasp. Strong arms grabbed you before you hit the ground and your mate’s panicked voice echoed through the ring “are you okay?”

You nodded and placed your hand on your abdomen.

“Talk to me doll, what’s wrong, where’s the pain?” His hands were all over your body, his eyes frantically searching for an injury.

“I’m okay” you croaked and clenched your eyes shut.

Cassian was on the verge of crying, the frustration was getting the best of him and he grabbed your jaw turning your head so you would look at him.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry I didn’t have the time to stop. What did I do…. please doll show me where it hurts”

“Cass it’s not your fault, I’m on my circle and the tonic Madja gave me wore off and the pain came back stronger, so I lost my balance. It’s my fault I shouldn’t have come to training today” you confessed, your heart broke at the sight of him, so panicked and sad.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He exclaimed.

“I didn’t want to bother you” your eyes burned.

He just shook his head and lifted you in his arms. “You need a hot bath and afterwards we will cuddle no more work today”.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After your bath he placed you on the bed and laid next to you, he pulled you on him and his wings covered you creating a cocoon. He picked your favourite book and started reading to you, pausing between every chapter to leave a kiss on your head. You dozed off feeling safe and comfortable in his arms, his warmth embracing you and his wings keeping the sun out of your eyes.

When you woke up again it was afternoon and you were still in the same position, Cassian’s snores breaking the silence. You stared at his face, his strong and sharp jaw, his full lips and his long lashes… how could someone be so beautiful. A smirk slowly appeared on his lips.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Very much sir” you smiled, and he chuckled.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, his eyes remained shut, yet his hands rubbed your back.

“Yes… I think your warmth is helping with the pain” you muttered and buried your face in his neck.

“Then I think you need to stay on me today”

“We have to be at dinner tonight, Rhysand said that he has an announcement to make” you whispered and shoved your cold hands beneath him making him tense and chuckle.

“Alright” he picked you up and placed you next to him, he got dressed and threw one of his shirts to you along with a pair of leggings.

You groaned as you slipped out of bed and got dressed.

“Ready?” He asked and you nodded.

You started walking towards the door and yelped when his strong arms circled your waist, and he picked you up manoeuvring you so his hand was beneath your back and the other behind your knees.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I told you; you need to stay on me today” he smiled.

And you did, hiding your face in his neck when everyone stared at you curiously as you were sitting on him for the whole dinner and flinching when he screamed after Rhysand announced that he and Feyre were expecting another baby.

Requests are open!

#acotar #acotar series #cassian acotar #cassian #cassian fanfic #cassian x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar fanfiction #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acowar #a court of silver flames

[ao3commentoftheday]

*person compliments your fic*

humility: omg thanks! I wasn't really sure about this one, so I'm glad you think it turned out!

self-deprecation: it was so much better in my head. I only posted because I got tired of looking at it.

self-loathing: you don't have to be nice. I know it's trash. I should just delete it

confidence: as soon as I got the idea, I just *knew* I had to write it!

arrogance: right? I wish other people could write like this too but so many people in this fandom just don't understand the characters like I do

---

I keep trying to find ways to explain the thoughts that I have when I read the notes on my posts where people beat themselves up. I'm writing this in a convincing tone (I noticed when I was 1 paragraph away from finishing), but that's just how I communicate most of the time. Please add in whatever caveats you think are appropraite. This is just me trying to think my way through some things.

So many of you out there seem to think that the only way to be "honest" about your abilities is to criticize yourself harshly. Like being kind to yourself is somehow self-aggrandizing.

Humility and confidence are two ends of the same spectrum. In both cases, you're secure in your own abilities. You have faith in yourself and what you can do. Humility relates to your internal security and the way you treat yourself. Confidence relates to your external security and how to relate to others.

If you are humble or confident, you have a realistic understanding of what you can and can't do. What you're good at, what you're great at, and what you can't do very well at all. You can accept a compliment when it's earned and you can accept a critique when you're trying to improve. Neither change your self-perception very much one way or the other. You'll be more humble when you're just learning a new skill and you'll be more confident once you're on your way to mastering it.

Self-deprecation and self-loathing are signs that you don't have a realistic view of your own capabilities. You're insecure and comparing yourself to others and finding yourself lacking. This might be a learned behaviour, where every time you showed confidence you were told you were getting prideful. It might be a case of insulting yourself before others are able to insult you - taking the power back from a bully by bullying yourself first.

Arrogance is also unrealistic, but at the other end of the spectrum. With arrogance, you compare yourself to others and put yourself in first place. You think others are below you or can't compete with you, that you're better than they are and they could never be as good as you. There's an insecurity with arrogance too. A fear that if you aren't the best then you must be a loser. If you're not number 1 then you aren't worth anything.

I use the example of getting a compliment because it's so commonplace in creative spaces. If you're insecure, it can be hard -even painful!- to accept them but learning how to do so can be a really valuable step on the road to learning how to be better to yourself.

#thinky thoughts #I'm still not getting the ideas out of my brain very well #so expect this to be the next thing I won't shut up about #as I try to noodle my way through it #long post #still #this turned out better formed than it was in my brain before I started typing #so I'll take that as a win!

[daggerspare-standingby]

The Chase - Part 1 | Hangman x Reader

Ok ok so I've had this in my works for a while and I couldnt find the guts to post it but here it is... my Jake x Reader Fic. Thanks to @roosterforme for helping me come up with a name :)

Summary: You've got a summer job bartending at the Hard Deck, and every night the same cocky naval aviator comes to the bar and flirts with you. You don't return his advances, heeding everyone's warnings and deciding to play hard to get, but jealousy creeps in each time he leaves with another tag chaser. Leaving you to your nighttime fantasies.

Jake secretly loves the chase you give him, he leaves with the girls but only for a hot and heavy make out session outside the bar. Since meeting you, and seeing the way his flirtatious advances effect you, or lack thereof, he's not able to get you out of his head. Your sassy attitude makes him weak in the knees, and makes his heart beat a little faster each time you give him a smart remark. There's no doubt in his mind, you're the one for him.

Warnings: none that I can think of in this one, smut for future parts, bar and navy inaccuracies for sure

Pairing: Jake x Bartender!Reader

Word count: 2348..

You had never met a more cocky and arrogant person than Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. From the very first day you met the aviator, he crawled right under your skin with his constant smirk and holier-than-thou attitude. He thought you would simply fawn under his striking green eyes and sparkling white grin. He didn’t expect you to be immune to his advances each night.

When he saw you at the bar the night of your first shift, he was captivated by your long flowing hair and your cute ass in the jean shorts you wore, he sent up a silent thank you for the ac that couldn’t keep up. Then you turned around and he saw the little tank top you were wearing, which showed off a respectable amount of cleavage and he could swear he could pop a gasket right there. You were absolutely beautiful. When you laughed at something one of the patrons said, your smile brightened up the whole bar, he’d stood and admired you, frozen in place (right by the front door to the bar) until Fanboy walked right into his back “hey, watch it Garcia”, Hangman grumbled as he moved to their usual spot by the pool tables. Coyote followed his friend’s gaze, also landing on the pretty new bartender Penny had hired who was singing along to the music playing through the jukebox as she served beverages. “Hangman, let’s go get some beer.” Always the best wingman, Hangman gave him an appreciative nod as they both made their way to the bar, they leaned against it waiting their turn to be approached. 

Each night would be the same song and dance, you would be behind the bar lighting up the dingy floor boards and peeled paint with your smile, Jake and the Dagger Squad as they became affectionately known after their successful mission, would show up after work, order a few rounds and Jake would unsuccessfully flirt with you and try to get your phone number. It irked him that you called everyone by their first names, except for him. You and the squad had developed a friendship like no other, but for Jake, that beautiful smile and long hair was what he wished to see splayed out on his pillow beside him when he woke up. 

He had been flirting with you for months, you’d clocked the aviator a mile away every time he walked into the bar, oozing swagger and confidence. That damn toothpick gripped between those pearly white teeth, which simultaneously drove you mad and made you incredibly horny - especially when he did that thing with his tongue that flipped it around… the first time he did it he was standing at the bar waiting for a drink from Penny, and you couldn't help but check him out, he was attractive, sure you’d give him that. His piercing green eyes meeting yours “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before darlin’,” You straightened slightly, not expecting the attention and having only been hired by Penny a few days ago to help out with the summer shifts “Penny just hired me…” He smiled, “I’m Jake, but they call me Hangman.” Before you could respond, Penny returned with his beers and handed them to him “leave my bartenders alone Hangman” you bit your lip and watched as Jake retreated to the pool tables and his friends, but not before casting you one more glance before starting a pool game. 

He flirted shamelessly with you each time he came to the bar, and you couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach each time he did. He had done the toothpick trick a couple times and your mind wandered to what else he could with that tongue of his. By the end of your shift, he was long gone, usually with a pretty young thing on his arm, but you were left with thoughts of his steely green eyes, sharp jaw, witty mouth and wicked tongue. You returned to your apartment, shed your clothes and crawled into bed, but you were so keyed up with thoughts of Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin, that your hands wandered down your body, under your sleep shirt, and into your panties, already soaked with arousal. His honeyed voice echoing in your mind, saying your name to get your attention at the bar, the way he winked at you as he added a few more beer to his tab, and imagining that your fingers currently circling your clit was his tongue instead was what had you clenching around nothing and arching off the bed. 

It was the same, night after night. Jake would come to the bar after his shift, his khaki uniform straining over his biceps and making your mouth water and breath catch. He’d wink at you when he placed his order, and flirt with you shamelessly all night. But you’d seen the way he turned on the charm with every girl at the bar, especially when you didn’t reciprocate his advances each night. He eventually left with them each and every night, and the thought crept into your head that maybe everyone was right - Hangman only wanted one thing, and you didn’t want to be another notch on his bed-post. But that didn’t stop you from circling your clit with your fingers each night, shuddering with his name on your lips as you came. 

One Friday, Penny had an additional hand from Jimmy and gave you the night off to enjoy it from the other side of the bar. You sipped your drink sitting at a barstool, when just after 5pm the door opened with a roar of conversation flooding in, Jake followed by the rest of the Dagger Squad. You watched Jake’s eyes scanning the bar and a ghost of a frown touches his lips as he doesn’t see you working. He orders a beer from Penny anyways and your smirk grows, watching him make his way back to the pool table and dart board as the squad normally does. You sit on your stool opposite the bar, observing, the normal swagger and confidence he exudes is still there, especially when he throws a perfect game again, but his smile as he ribs his teammates doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You can’t hear the conversation, but you hear the rest of the team groan at presumably one of his cocky remarks, you nod Penny over and order a round of beers for the aviators, plus one for yourself and head over with the full tray. 

“Rooster, if you fly the way you play pool you’re definitely going to run out of gas. Make the shot man” You set the tray of cold beers down on a high top table and watch Rooster take the shot and scratch. Taking a beer from the tray you approach the group of pilots, “Can I tag in Roos?” Everyone - including Hangman - straightens up at your arrival. Jake’s grip on his pool cue tightens slightly, not enough for you to notice, but enough for Javy to smirk around his bottle as he brings it to his lips, knowing his best friend is hooked and falling real hard for you. Rooster happily hands you his pool cue and takes the beer from you instead “good luck, you’ll need it to beat Hangman.” Your eyes finally meet the blonde pilots “you’re not gonna go too hard on me, right Hangman?” Jake’s eyes softened slightly at your gaze, oh yeah, he was hooked. “Course not darlin’.” He racked the balls again, trying to keep composure and not give away his feelings about you “you’re not working tonight?” You shook your head as you chalked your cue “nope, got the night off. A girl deserves to have fun every now and again, you naval aviators can’t be the only ones.” The Dagger Squad was watching the banter, keeping their conversation low, but with invested interest. Hangman’s signature smirk grew on his face “You can break darlin’” You nodded, rounding the table and laying out the cue ball, lips pursed in a small smile as you bent at the waist eyeing the shot you were about to make, purposely taking your time, making sure he would take full advantage of your ass basically on display.

Jake inhaled deeply, watching you lean over the pool table and willed his mind to think of anything but the inappropriate thoughts that were trying to push in. “You sure you don’t need a hand there sweetheart?” he made sure to add a little extra bravado in his tone, hoping that it would mask the desperation he felt seeping into his bones at how badly he wanted to wrap his body around yours. You cast him a sideways smirk and took the shot, sinking two right off the break. Standing, to move around the table you brushed right against his chest, his scent overwhelmed your senses, sandalwood and cinnamon, but you kept your chin up “you’re in the way of my next shot Hangman.” Jake’s eyebrows raised, almost to his hairline as he steps out of the way, unable to wipe the grin off his face. Finally, someone who could keep up with him.

This was a welcome change to the flow of the usual evening, the light chatter from the squad surrounding you as you and Jake battled it out over a game of pool. He made a smart alec remark just as you took another shot, causing you to misalign and miss slightly, giving him the upper hand. His grin widened, making the corners of his eyes crinkle “Oh darlin’ that’s too bad. Let me show you how a real winner plays.” You stood back, picking up your drink and watching his confidence come back with each shot he made. Just before he sunk the 8 ball, his eyes reached yours “thanks for the challenge sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes watching as the ball sunk into the pocket “they should call you Hangover, you just give me a headache. Sorry I couldn’t take him down a peg, friends.” You handed the cue stick over to Coyote who took it with a small chuckle and you made your way over to the bathroom. 

The rest of the team returned to their conversations, Payback and Fanboy arguing about which Star Trek rerun was better, Phoenix, Bob and Rooster discussing different flight plans but Jake approached Javi watching your retreating form and let out a small sigh “I’m gonna marry that girl.” Javi looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow “you sure about that man?” Jake turned his attention to Javi with a serious expression “yes! name another girl that can keep up with me.” Coyote shrugged “All I’m saying is, if that’s your plan, stop leaving every night with some tag chaser for a heavy petting session.” Jake frowned, his brows knitting in the middle but the look disappeared as quickly as it arrived when you exited the bathroom and were making your way back towards them. 

You needed a break after being in such close proximity to him for so long, bodies brushing each time you passed each other to make another shot, feeling the heat of his gaze on you the entire time, you retreated to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on the back of your neck and on your cheeks. You knew he was going to leave with another girl tonight, why did you still let him get to you? a small voice in your head told you it was because you hoped that he would leave with you tonight, but did you really want to be another conquest? another name on the bathroom stall under his callsign. Another small voice in your heart told you that the two persona’s were different, and Jake wouldn’t treat you that way, but you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, settling on better never than maybe, and made your way back out to the aviators around the back area of the bar. Seeing some of the usual customers you waved and made some casual conversation as you moved through the space, completely unaware of the way his eyes followed your every move. 

What you were also completely unaware of, was the young officer who had had a little too much to drink, was sloshing his beer all over the place, and knocked into you accidentally, causing you to slip on the spilled liquid and as you squeezed your eyes shut bracing for the pain of hitting the floor, you realized that pain never came. The scent hit you before you could open your eyes, but as you did, you were brought back to a standing position by Jake, his hand firmly gripping your upper arm, which loosened once you stood straight and he briefly ran his eyes over you, giving you a once over “are you ok?” You needed to blink a couple times before words could form on your tongue, but when they did, they sounded too breathless “yeah.” He was still holding your arm, it was almost too much, feeling of electricity running through your system stemming from where his calloused hand was touching your arm. You looked back at how far you were from the pool tables and silently wondered how he had gotten over to you so quickly, your ears were buzzing and he was saying something to Penny, who then quickly turned to ring the bell. You recognized the cheer of “Overboard” Jake turned to look at you and you registered that he was talking to you “stay right here, I’m gonna toss this loser out and then I’ll take you home.” You started to protest but he was gone before you could even get the words out. Coyote and Payback assisted him with tossing out the young sailor and then he was back in front of you “I paid your tab, come on.” And that would be the first time you followed Jake out of the Hard Deck, with him holding onto your hand.

—

Tagging some friends who might be interested?

@djs8891 @blue-aconite @midnightmagpiemama @rosiahills22 @hecate-steps-on-me @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @roosterbruiser @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @paigewinchester67 @horseshoegirl @potatothatcanwrite @theharddeck @thedroneranger @hangmandruigandmav

Let me know if you want to be added or removed or if you can think of someone that may like where this is going! I appreciate it <3

x Brina

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman fic #top gun hangman #jake x reader #Jake x you #jake seresin #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin x you

[dairsmuids]

A Deadly Performance

A Haytham Kenway x Reader smut fic (named for the mission it's set after, because I'm lazy at coming up with titles)

Dedicated to @anli-rambles my beloved, because I love you endlessly, and my life is better for having you in it. (shut up I can be as sappy as I want this is my fic <3) Thank you for being the first person to read this, because your praise actually hyped me up enough to want to post it lol

Tagging: @bloodfathers @sangheilihoes @ladysaturnsdust @amefuyuu @wyyvernn @memoriesofafallen @heiress-prime

Haytham's cape billows behind him as he strolls out of the opera house doors, seemingly unbothered by the cacophony taking place behind him. He walks with his usual air of cold confidence, greeting you with just the briefest hint of a side smile as Holden opens the carriage door to let him in.

"And how was the opera?"

"Rather dull, truth be told," comes Haytham's deliberately-flat response. You can't help but giggle into your palm at that — you know full well, of course, why he'd come here and what he'd done — but Haytham is far too busy inspecting the amulet in his hand to react to, or even notice, your amusement. He seems utterly bewildered by the fruits of his labour as he twirls the unusual item between his fingers.

"Shall we be off, then?" asks Holden.

"Aye, to Fleet and Bride."

"By your command."

As the carriage begins to move off, the hollow sound of the horses' hooves ringing out against the ground, you lean into Haytham's side, to which the Templar finally acknowledges you properly with a soft kiss to the side of your head.

"Missed you," you murmur, "Holden's been beguiling me with tales all evening in your absence."

Haytham just hums a noncommittal response, clearly still distracted by the amulet in his hand. You reach for it curiously, but he moves it away with a playful air as he finally makes eye contact with you.

"So, this is what Master Birch has been foaming at the mouth about," you say, leaning in to take a closer look.

Haytham gives a subtle raise of his eyebrows as his steel-blue eyes find the amulet once more. "His utterly inane preoccupation with this... this... prattle evades any level of understanding I've had of him over the years," he says, and you can tell by the tinge of frustration in his voice that there's something going on there, something deeper than he's letting on, but you don't press the matter. Even if you did, you knew Haytham likely wouldn't wish to speak about it.

Wanting to be a place of solace for his very obvious disgruntlement you reach over to plant a kiss against Haytham's cheek, your lips lingering upon his skin for a moment or two, before placing your hand gently upon his knee, stroking your thumb idly against the clothed skin. Haytham doesn't respond at first, his entire focus still on the amulet, but then you glide your hand all the way up his thigh, squeezing gently as your fingertips brush his crotch, and his body language stiffens up ever so slightly.

"What are you doing, my dear?" he asks, gazing at you now, with an arch of one single perfectly-groomed brow. There's the tiniest hint of a smirk flickering upon his lips.

You flash him a grin. "You just seem a little... tense, is all. I thought perhaps I could help with that."

"Is that so?"

"It is so," you tell him, and you lean in to press your lips against his, his hand trailing up the back of your neck as the two of you begin to kiss in long, slow, perfectly in-sync strokes.

You give his thigh another light squeeze as you pull away from the kiss, tracing your fingertips up and down, glancing downward to notice the way there's now a very obvious bulge at the front of his breeches, "May I be allowed to… help you with that, sir?"

At first you wonder if perhaps Haytham is against the idea of you doing something so wanton to him in a semi-public setting, but his hooded gaze and the way he suddenly leans in for another quick peck on the lips tells you all you need to know. "You may," he replies, and then his warm lips are against the shell of your ear, his voice a harsh growl as he speaks again: "Discreetly, or there'll be trouble."

And so you do as he commands. Haytham's eyes drift closed as your hand slips upwards and into his breeches. A small, restrained groan falls from his parted lips, his fist tightening around the amulet in his palm.

"You're utterly insatiable, you know," comes the Templar's voice, low and raspy, as he opens his eyes to regard you again, his intense gaze fixed upon the side of your face. You swipe your thumb over the head of his cock and he immediately responds, sucking air through his teeth. "Didn't you get enough of me this morning?"

Your thoughts drift back to earlier in the day — Haytham had given you a wake up call in the form of his teeth at your neck and a hand between your legs, before proceeding to take you in bed, on the chair next to the bed, and against the windowsill. A good morning indeed.

"I can never get enough of you, love," you say with a smile, and then you lean in closer, dropping your voice. "Besides, I figured you were deserving of a reward for the job you did this evening. This is a much better reward than any kind Master Birch would give you, hm?"

Haytham breathes out a chuckle at that, though his gaze is clouding over as he does so — clearly too distracted by your touch to fully engage in a conversation. "I should certainly hope Reginald never offers me this kind of reward; I may have to pledge my allegiances elsewhere."

Your chest jolts slightly with the ghost of a laugh as you grasp at the waistband of Haytham's breeches, pulling them down just enough to expose his now fully erect cock to the open air of the carriage, immediately reaching to wrap your hand around him, stroking up and down with just the right amount of speed and pressure. This isn't the first time you've done this to Haytham: you know just how he likes to be touched.

Haytham drops his head back slightly as his chest heaves with heavy breaths, his eyelids fluttering shut, and he reaches for the red cravat around his neck to loosen it slightly.

"You're going to be the death of me, you naughty little thing," he moans, his voice a quiet rumble that barely pierces the air around the two of you.

You hum happily at that, revelling in the velvety warmth of his cock in your palm as his hips thrust upwards, one of his hands scrambling to grasp at the back of the carriage seat while the other still tightly grips onto the amulet. It's clear he's trying his best to control himself, but as you continue to move your hand roughly against him, you can tell that restraint is quickly becoming the furthest thing from his mind.

Haytham presses his hand to his eyes, pushing upwards into his hairline and grabbing lightly, as though he needs to hold on to something, anything. A few rogue strands of dark hair fall loose from his usually-perfect ponytail, framing his slightly reddened face.

"You're a menace," he chokes out as you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock again, the action making a filthy slick sound as you smear his precum up and down the entire length.

Restraint appears to be an entirely forgotten concept to Haytham now as your continued touch sends him hurtling toward the edge, his hips fucking furiously upwards into your hand like nothing else matters in life. He looks a dishevelled, desperate mess, a million miles away from his usual buttoned-up self, and you love that you're the only one who can coax this side out of him.

Haytham's entire body begins to tense up, his thigh muscles tightening until all at once you feel his entire body shudder, a long, guttural moan escaping from between his parted lips. His stormy eyes roll back into his skull as he lets himself fall into climax, his release coating your palm, the abundance of it dripping down your wrist and onto the warm skin of his exposed stomach.

Without missing a beat he reaches his hand into the chest area of his jacket, pulling a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his red waistcoat and offering it to you, which you accept with a soft laugh as you use it to clean up the sticky mess on your hand. “Ever the perfect gentleman,” you say teasingly.

Haytham chuckles as he draws in a deep breath, his demeanour now seeming much more relaxed as he begins to straighten himself up, tucking his softening cock back into the confines of his breeches.

“Let me fix this,” you murmur as you reach for his loosened cravat, untying it before redoing it into a perfectly even bow. His gaze upon you is heated and intense, as though pouncing upon you like a wild animal would be preferable, and as you meet his eyes you can't help the blush that spreads across your cheeks.

“For what it's worth, my darling,” Haytham growls lowly, his warm breath tickling your ear as he leans in close, “I fully intend to repay the favour later.”

#haytham kenway #haytham kenway x reader

[auncyen]

I have no idea where this goes in the ISAT dc and I need to get it out of my brain so I'm lobbing it here

I wanna make this into fic form but basically initial meeting Isabeau actually being STARRY-EYED about Siffrin. That crush came fast. Like, Isabeau left the Defenders because they wouldn't help Mirabelle and here Siffrin saw three people fighting a strong Sadness and was like "here I am!" Fighting for Vaugarde and they're not even from there. Isabeau asks where they're originally from because the clothes intrigue him and Siffrin says "nowhere in particular", they've been traveling so long they don't really consider anywhere their home, and that's like. WOW that's so cool, because while Isabeau might know they're older he doesn't think they're that much older and like. How badass is that. Just striking out on your own, surviving on your own, living free as a bird and unafraid to be quirky. It took Isabeau a long time to get to being confident and Siffrin seems so nonchalant. Sure, Isabeau is aware Siffrin's not perfect, has some shortcomings in the memory and like. communication department, but who's perfect anyway?

By the time the party reaches Dormont Isabeau is deep in that crush. He's also been paying attention to Siffrin enough to notice that like, huh, sometimes Siffrin being nonchalant kind of seems. avoidant. And sometimes he's a little worried that Siffrin took losing an eye too well, like it didn't matter? I mean he's glad they're not holding it against Bonnie or anything, but... it's just little things. He wonders what they plan on doing after the journey.

Two extremely weird days later.

And then maybe some additional explanation from Siffrin, over time, about what was going on. How he got to that point.

Isabeau is cringing at how he first interpreted Siffrin. Not because they aren't amazing! They're incredible. He just wishes he'd realized before that Siffrin wasn't strong because they struck out on their own and did their own thing, Siffrin was strong because they were surviving being cast out into a foreign world with no memory of the past and ongoing memory problems and Change, if he'd just been bold enough before to tell Siffrin he wanted to still be with them after the journey. He knows he shouldn't beat himself up about it but sometimes he thinks maybe it would have avoided the whole problem in the first place, maybe Siffrin would have looped until they got to the Head Housemaiden but then felt safe enough to end looping there if they'd already had a promise of a future. Or maybe they would have told him about the looping like. Isabeau can't imagine it would have been right away, maybe it would have taken a few loops, but at some point before having a mental breakdown

Basically I just like the idea of Isabeau having a very starry-eyed first impression of Siffrin and then post-game looking at that and being like "well I was right to love them, but wow did I miss. A lot of That."

#isat isabeau #in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers #isabeau x siffrin

[pomefioredove]

hi hi there! I'm not sure if I'm doing this correctly, but can I request vil comforting the reader through a breakup? (totally not self indulgent comfort) I love your writing so much and you write vil so well. Thank you!

anon this isn't related to any exes but I have a bunch of highly specific reaction images in my gallery to use when I describe a person (usually a man) I personally think vil schoenheit would hate

summary: vil has always hated your ex type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: implied romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, hurt/comfort

There are very few things Vil Schoenheit is ever wrong about.

Even when he wants to be.

There are a million and one ways he could have said I told you so.

He might have even given himself a little pat on the back if the timing was better, but this was about you, not him and his excellent judge of character.

He never liked that person.

Thus, when you had turned up at his door not too long ago, looking like a kicked puppy, that was his very first guess.

And now, he dabs at the corners of your eyes with a silk handkerchief, trying to salvage the lovely makeup look he'd recommended earlier while you talk.

Another cascade of tears fall down your cheeks as you describe the nature of the emergency. He winces.

"Oh, dear. Please tell me you dumped them,"

You shake your head.

One part of Vil is aghast. The other is offended. Not only on your behalf, but at the simple fact that anyone could break up with someone he held in such high regard.

Are they ignorant? Stupid?

How could anyone be so foolish as to let you get away...?

"It's for the better," Vil says, tilting your chin up to prevent any more tears from falling down your pretty cheeks.

You sniffle. "I know you never liked them, but..."

"This isn't about that," he says it plainly, even though it's half a lie. "This is about the fact that you had ever entertained such a character. They're not worth a second of your time, do you hear me?"

You're quiet for a moment, not sure how to respond to his sudden attempt at boosting your confidence.

"It's just complicated,"

"Relationships tend to be. Hold still for me, dear," he picks a stray eyelash off your cheek.

Vil doesn't believe in things like wishing on eyelashes, but even as he blows it off the tip of his finger, he's thinking of you.

"You will survive," he turns back to you, smiling slightly. "Even with your terrible taste in partners."

"If you had it your way, you'd interview every person I liked,"

He rolls his eyes. "Tsk. You say that like it's a bad thing,"

Even now, you can't help a small, weak laugh. There was something rather impressive about the way he could lift your spirits without even trying.

The same thought seems to occur to him, and he smiles, delicately wiping away another tear with the tip of his finger.

"I just don't think I'll meet anyone up to the Vil standard,"

"Good thing you don't have to," he smiles, almost teasingly. "I'm right here, after all."

Another eyelash is wiped away along with the tear, though this time, as he blows it away, he makes a wish.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #queued #(I wish twst had its en release when I was going through my last breakup I just know vil would have saved me)

[21aurora]

Hiii! So I saw your eunhyeok post and loved it! (This is my first time requesting btw) I was wondering if you could write a fic of eunhyeok having a crush on reader except he’s very shy

My secret crush | go eunhyeok

Eunhyeok pov:

I like y/n for a long time. We are friends but not close. Every time I try to get close to her, confess to her, or ask her to go out on a date, something stops me, I stay in my place, I can't move , and all I do is watching her and smile like an idiot .

I even knew everything about her, her birthday, her close friends, everything she likes and everything she hates, and her favorite drink is chocolate milk. Sometimes I buy it for her and I can't give it to her and back off .

even on her previous birthday, I bought her a gift and I didn't give it to her. I think about her a lot, as if she is controlling me, but I really can't take any step, I'm afraid of rejecting me, and this is not because I don't have self-confidence, on the contrary, but I'm afraid that she likes someone else and when I confess I lose her forever .

Her features are very cute that makes me just want to hug her, and her personality is simple, gentle and kind with everyone, she cares about everyone around her, brave and smart, even her small flaws I love them , her mess and spontaneity sometimes.

while I am immersed in thinking while I am walking in the school corridor I noticed her presence in the music room , She plays the piano, I kept watching her from the outside as usual, until I found that she could not make a certain tune, despite my hesitation, I decided to help her .

" H ... Hey y/n do you need help?" I said after approaching her.. " Hey Eunhyeok, yes please, I'm playing this note but I don't know what I do wrong "

" Let me see. " I sat down next to her in front of the piano, and she shifted a little to sit make space to me to ." Which part exactly do you mean?" She told me which part she meant . “Well, start from the beginning and I will see what do you do wrong.”

She started to play, her playing was not bad, on the contrary, I enjoyed it, I focused with her hand to see what she was doing wrong, and when she reached the required part, I moved closer to her and held her hand and put my fingers on top of her fingers on the piano in order to guide her, she smells like lavender, I wished I could stay this close for a longer period But the presto ended after about a minute. And she kept repeating it until she knows how to play it. Her playing was beautiful, but her eyes were more beautiful as she smiled and thanked me for her help.

" Thank you Eunhyeok, I don't know how to return the favor " " you are really cute "

When I heard her say that, my face almost exploded from the heat, I could hear my heartbeat, I couldn't believe she saw me like that, "You're cute too y/n " And I found that this was the perfect time to ask her for a date, if I missed this opportunity I wouldn't be able to Do it later .

I collect my courage and looked to her eyes and said to her" W ..Would you mind going out on a date with me? " ..

She looked at me with an expression that was unreadable to me as if she was trying to comprehend what just happened. After a few moments of silence, I felt embarrassed and said, "If you don't want to, consider that I didn't say anything." I stood up and hurried to leave, “No, no, wait, Eunhyeok.” She held my hand and looked at her.

" I'd love to " " I just was surprised that you like me too "

I felt as if my heart was going to fly out of my chest from the feelings that hit me now, and trying to realize that the person she had a crush on was me.

I smiled and didn't say anything and she also kept like this for a few moments looking at each other, until I found her standing on her tiptoes and kissing me on my cheek and ran outside, I touched my face where she kissed me, and I stayed in my place, smiling and blushing.

#fanfic #x reader #webtoon #webtoon x reader #pure love operation #operation: true love x reader #operation true love #go eunhyeok xreader #go eunhyuk x reader #go eunhyeok #go eunhyuk #eunhyeok x reader #eunhyuk x reader #otl x reader

[dialsforshutup]

Please post part 2 of the larissa fic!!!

your wish is my command <3

Oh, Hello. Pt 2

Larissa Weems X Fem!Addams!Reader

(Slight) frenemies to lovers

2/4. Not proofread, English isn’t my first language, and some parts of the canon changed

formatting might look weird on some devices

Very long chapter, I apologize in advance

There's some trouble in paradise, but don't fret! I promise lots of comfort and fluff in the next part

Thanks, darlings for all the love on the first part! 💕 mwahhh 💋

Part 3 - Part 4

...(Y/N) responded, laying her bag at her feet and saying, "You could never say no to me."

 Those seven words caused Larissa to tap her nails onto her desk, that familiar phrase got the two of them into so much trouble when they were students - she couldn't help but allow a wicked grin to start forming on her face. "No, I suppose not. We were quite the pair back then," she said to the woman sitting in front of her desk, who replied with an uncertain, "Yes, we were weren't we?" They were in a difficult situation because neither of the women ever imagined meeting the other again. However, after so many years, here they were, face to face. Larissa had the power to decide what would happen to them. She could simply reject (Y/N)'s application and send her on her way, ignoring the old, unresolved problems she wanted to stay away from. Alternatively, she could accept the application and gain a friend on the staff in whom she could confide after they cut the BS and discussed what had happened. The choice was challenging, to put it mildly. "So..." (Y/N) said, breaking the awkward silence between them, "Should we go ahead with the interview?" The million-dollar smile returned to Larissa's face as she nodded. She decided that any unresolved issues between them could wait for now. She straightened her position on the chair and cleared her throat, slinking her manicured hands onto her computer and turning it on- opening the mail app to find (Y/N)'s qualifications that should have been sent to her beforehand. Larissa continued, maintaining the interview's formality, "Okay Professor Addams, let's get started."

They had reached the halfway point of the interview, and (Y/N) had expertly and accurately responded to each question, from classifying claw-litative data to the history of sociopathy. This only made Larissa's predicament worse. Surely, as a principal, she had a duty to hire someone with (Y/N)'s level of qualifications. "Well, it's clear that you have a wide range of skills and are very qualified... Welcome to the Nevermore team," Larissa said, quickly closing her laptop as she focused all of her attention on the woman in front of her, her eyes sweeping her from head to toe. (Y/N) noticed the principal’s wandering eyes, and sent a friendly wink once their eyes met once again- even if Larissa was her boss now, they still had a history. “Great,” she said, after winking, a smile creeping onto her face at the principal's flustered face, “Where will I be stationed?”. (Y/N) was ecstatic to begin her new job and have the opportunity to mould the minds of future generations of outcasts, but she was also ecstatic to be around the staff, the majority of whom were her old friends. Clearly aware of (Y/N)'s excitement, Larissa stood back up and moved closer to the new professor. Even though they pretended they didn't want to see each other again, the two women briefly shared a warm smile. The person who broke the shared expression was Larissa, who stood directly in front of (Y/N) while she was seated. Larissa was so tall over the woman's sitting position that (Y/N) had to tilt her head up to face Larissa. The principal simply knelt down slightly, which caused the new professor's breath to falter- almost as if she were out of breath. But when Larissa picked up the bag off the ground and firmly held it in her right hand, her excitement began to fade. “I’ll escort you to the quarters, I’m afraid we don’t have any single rooms open. So you’ll have to stay with me for now,” Larissa said with grace as she began to walk to the door regardless of the other woman’s response. (Y/N) hurriedly walked in the direction of Larissa, trying to keep up with the woman who was moving much more quickly than she was. “I’m not complaining.” She said in a hurried tone, as the two of them left the office and walked through the hallways side by side. (Y/N) found herself once more staring at the pictures of the alumni that were displayed in glass frames throughout the dimly lit, soggy hallways and immortalised for all time, leaving legacies of hundreds on the walls. When she saw a picture of herself and Larissa posing proudly and beaming for the Nevermore book club picture, she chuckled. “What made you so joyful?” Larissa questioned inquisitively: Surely (Y/N) wasn't that thrilled to be back? But when she followed the other woman's line of reasoning, she found the solution. “Oh.” She spoke softly while grinning as she recalled how they had founded the club. Despite being the only two people there, they always had a blast. But during their final meeting, they got into a rambling argument that caused (Y/N)'s disappearance after graduation. “We’re going to lose time dawdling over the past.” More firmly than she meant to, Larissa spoke. “oh, sorry.” Was all that (Y/N) could muster, hurt over Weems' abrupt rejection of their photo, suggesting that perhaps their relationship had changed for the worse. Larissa didn't say anything, just nodded and motioned for the professor to follow. They walked on in silence, with only the murmur of giggling students as background noise. Many of them gave (Y/N) curious looks, while others gave the pair a smug grin as they whispered among themselves. Larissa simply continued to the teachers' dorms, her heels clicking loudly on the stone floors beneath her, amplified by (Y/N)'s heeled boots. It appeared that she had learned to tune out the students' whispers, probably as a result of her many years serving as the academy's principal. She abruptly stopped moving and spun around to face the woman following her.

As a result of her abrupt stop, (Y/N) almost crashed into the tall woman in front of her. Instead, she simply looked at her with an awkward smile, her clumsiness made Larissa chuckle. “We’ve reached.” She said with an opening of the dark brown door behind her. The room itself was fairly large and fully wooden- not practical for a fire emergency. Larissa seemed to have settled down in the leftmost side of the room, as it was decorated with various light colours of cream and the occasional red. (Y/N) smiled to herself and made her way to the rightmost side of the room, and began to softly skim her hands over the soft blanket placed on the bed. The threads of yarn made a soft scratching noise as her long nails floated overtop them. She'd hum to herself as they got caught in between the threads, slightly jumping when the loud thud of her bag hitting the mattress of the bed next to her emerged. She was so caught up in the atmosphere that she hadn't realised that Larissa made her way over to her. "Prepare yourself." the taller woman said, not looking directly at the woman in front of her, "Your first class is in half an hour. When you're finished, make your way to the library, the staff is finalizing the plans for the next Rave'N which is in two days' time. Including today." and with this she forced a smile and left the room, allowing the new professor to unpack and prepare herself. (Y/N) looked uneasy, everything that went wrong between Larissa and herself was because of the Rave'N that took place during their school years. It was not something she was looking forward to at the very least, but it was something she expected- just not so soon. There was no use debating it, she simply sighed and grabbed her bag. Unbuckling the clamps and moving it over to the mahogany closet on the side of her living quarter; just by a hazy glassed window. She began digging through the array of clothes, the bag itself wasn't too large from the outside, but the inside was enchanted to fit a multitude of things; an old family heirloom. (Y/N) had packed every single clothing item she owned, this was her home now, for the time being anyways. "Cet air qui m'obsède jour et nuit...Cet air n'est pas né d'aujourd'hui" she began to mumble to herself, singing along to the marvelous tunes of édith Piaf, her hips slightly swaying to the make-believe music. She eventually prepared everything though, and changed into a different pencil skirt and blazer; this time it was muted pink, to symbolize her new journey. All the equipment she needed for her lesson was already in the classroom, all she needed to bring was herself. Her personal life could wait, her students awaited her, and off she went to make her way to the classroom for the very first time. Larissa didn't know why she got so worked up over the reminder of what happened during her years' Rave'N. She told herself countless times again and again that she got over the fact that the person she wanted to ask showed up with another person; even if they knew she was going to ask them. Here she was, sitting in her office after leaving the dormatory- in her hand was her old yearbook. (Y/N) must be in the middle of her lesson by now she thought to herself, humming a melancholy tune, maybe she should see if her teaching is any good. Maybe she'll do it in a few minutes, she wanted to stare at the old yearbook photograph in front of her, her manicured nails skimming over the person's face. It was quite a tragedy, what had happened to her, she felt betrayed. There's nothing worse than the hurt of rejection, especially when it's from someone she loves- erm.. loved. "Tsk" she muttered, clicking her tongue, "Goddammit Addams...". and she meant it. She still remembers how she was a nervous mess in the hallways; telling her friends how she'd ask Addams to the Rave'N. In fact, she was overheard by the person she was going to ask, which only cut her deeper when they showed up with someone else. Was her past love unrequited? The thought of it made Larissa furrow her brows and close the yearbook.

Yet, it wasn’t Gomez Addams she was referencing, oh no, it was (Y/N) Addams. Eventually, she decided that there was no use thinking about this anymore, and threw the yearbook aside, standing up from her previous seat to make her way to the door. the hallways were quieter than they were earlier today, most of the students were either in class or participating in various clubs. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with the giggling and gossiping right now, she had more pressing matter at hand. Her destination was the library, where all the teachers had agreed to meet to finalize some finishing touches for the Rave’N. Larissa certainly didn’t want to have the mood dampened, so she would need to stop avoiding the elephant in the room and confront it, which meant dealing with the issues between herself and (Y/N). The staff needed to be harmonious to ensure the utmost safety for the students after all, no other reasons. The library doors towered over Larissa, which was a rare sight to behold, they were dark oak wood and engraved with stories and tales from Edgar Allan Poe’s writings. Her hand grazed over an engraved drawing of a raven right above the handle, the embossed wood making a soft scratching noise as she did so. It would not be easy to deal with her problems, so she sighed and gently pushed the door open to find everybody waiting there for her. Surely she hadn’t been that late for the meeting? But she apparently was, as disgruntled staff members sat together on one of the library tables, their discussions coming to a hushed tone as Larissa walked in and cleared her throat. “Apologies for being late, I had some things I had to deal with. Student records and such” she said, the lie easily escaping from her mouth with a smile. She had a reputation to uphold after all. “No worries,” said another staff member, Ms. Thornhill, who was sitting at the head of the table, “We already went through most of the things..�� she explained. Larissa couldn’t argue, she was late after all, “Perfe-“ she said as she scanned the table, noticing an empty seat. The seat she was supposed to sit in, “Where is Professor Addams?” She questioned, almost automatically. “Oh- uh” Thornhill stuttered, not expecting the principal to have a sudden interest in the new professors whereabouts, this was certainly interesting to say the very least. The confused faces that graced the rest of the staff definitely showed that they felt the same way. “She didn’t attend, said something along the lines of ‘I cant bear to relive it’” The red boot-wearing woman explained, “I have no idea what she meant”

Larissa scoffed, shaking her head, “Never mind then. Let’s just focus on finishing this work” and with that she wasn’t questioned any further by the rest of the staff. As they continued throughout their planning and discussion, Larissa couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N)- the woman burnt into the principals mind like a paper on an open flame. The flame in Larissa’s mind grew larger the more she thought about the woman, about her stupid smile, and her idiotic ignorance in going with someone else to the Rave’N back then. She was supposed to go with her, she was supposed to be smiling stupidly at her. Not with some half-assed random person! Larissa was the one that was supposed to be slow dancing with her, smelling that gorgeous flowery perfume that she loves so much.. and the feeling of the other woman’s lips against he…. Wait.. was she still in love with her??? There was no way, Larissa thought, no, she had gotten over her years go. She just wanted their friendship back, yeah… yeah. And so she would attempt to salvage it, by confronting (Y/N) about her disappearance, hopefully they would learn to understand each other.

(Y/N) hadn’t bothered to go to the meeting. Instead, here she sat, on her bed- engulfed in the blanket she was examining earlier that day. She didn’t want to increase the awkward tension between Larissa and herself by attending a meeting discussing the very same event that drew them apart. But she didn’t understand why it did, why was Larissa so upset to see her with someone else? Wasn’t Larissa planning to ask her cousin to the dance? So confusing. Of course, (Y/N) had considered the fact that since Larissa and herself were sharing a dormitory, that surely the other woman would confront her about it sooner or later. But she wasn’t prepared, the topic of their separation was the sun to her Icarus- she yearned to get it over with yet she knew that she would burn up if she drew to close. She didn’t want to be on bad terms with Larissa, she truly didn’t. Yet the woman wouldn’t leave her thoughts, from the assertive way she stood when she spoke, to the small smiles she used to give (Y/N) when their eyes would meet across a room. Over time (Y/N) developed feelings for the taller woman, her heart was completely shattered when she heard that Larissa was going to ask Addams to the dance- yet (Y/N) never considered that the Addams Larissa was referencing was actually her. The overwhelming return of these feelings and memories caused (Y/N) to start tearing up, she hadn’t even noticed it. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the knocking on the door, and her fears were confirmed when Larissa walked in, looking assertive, with a furrowed brow. She softly clicked the door shut behind her and walked over to where (Y/N) was huddled up, crossing her arms as she roughly shut her eyes, “We need to talk, and sort this-“ her words were cut off when she opened her eyes to find (Y/N)‘s tear- stained face, her expression immediately softened. She couldn’t never stay mad at her, no matter what she did- her empathy and love for the other woman overpowered any negative connotations she had with her, she hated it, but she loved it too. And with this, Larissa sat down on the bed in-front of the professor and softly said,

“Are you okay?”

————

I hope you liked it!!! 💕 More to come very soon, I promise lots of comfort and fluff in the next one :,)

All of these years of hurt just because of a silly misunderstanding from both ends!!🥲🥲

And a special gift; a playlist!

#part two #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #gwendoline christie #larissa could throw me off the building #wednesday #wednesday netflix #the addams family #wednesday addams #fem x fem #Y/N #x reader #character x reader #angst #hurtcomfort #frenemies to lovers #so much angst #but they love eachother #but theyre both stubborn #yeah #i have no idea #y=mx+b #misunderstanding #jealousy #Larissa is in love #Y/N is clueless

[ineedtorantaboutjiangcheng]

My first rant, and the reason I snapped and made this blog, is not about Jiang Cheng. It's actually about the characters around him.

See, I was reading this fic and, without naming any specifics, I was enjoying it. Nothing especially groundbreaking, but it was good enough that I was immersed. In fact, the thing that probably got me about this is that what I liked most about the fic, what was really sucked me in, was the characterisations. Wei Wuxian was the definite standout. Fic premise meant that he was injured, but he was being portrayed with his canonical resilience, which is rare enough that prior to this, I would have likely celebrated the fic for it's accuracy. It's a difficult thing to pull off, and I always give extra credit to authors who can walk the line of, essentially, whumping a character while still keeping them themselves.

Then it happened. Jiang Cheng showed up. I've sometimes clicked out of a fic just for that (the timing of his appearance is, occasionally, enough of an indicator of his role in the story that I know I'm not going to be able to jive with it), but I was immersed! And the author had gained my trust with the aforementioned character accuracy until that point! I was caught up, and ready to roll with whatever version of Jiang Cheng came out.

And, well, his behaviour seemed somewhat accurate to canon. Angry, accusatory, sort of irrational, in an overly suspicious way. Seemed pretty good. Again, the timing made me think that the fic was probably going to go the reconciliation path, but you know, I can get through that. I don't care enough about Jiang Cheng that his presence or absence alone is enough to ruin a fic I'm otherwise enjoying.

But then, imagine my shock. Jiang Cheng, post first siege (where, as far as everyone knows, he killed Wei Wuxian, and has spent the years since his death hunting down and torturing anyone who might be/reminds him of him. You can dispute Jiang Cheng's actions, if you wish, but not that this is how he is widely perceived), demands to see Wei Wuxian. And Lan Wangji, who loves Wei Wuxian, who spent stars knows how much time desperately trying to protect Wei Wuxian, who would stand between Wei Wuxian and the world if he had been allowed, just... agrees.

Lan Wangji. Agreed. To let a Jiang Cheng, who shows no, I don't know, remorse, or concern, or anything, toward a person he is credited with murdering, that Lan Wangji believes he murdered. And Lan Wangji just... yep. I'll just take you to see Wei Wuxian. Sure, he's injured, and vulnerable, and you show no sign of wanting to do anything other than a violence. Yep, right this way.

And THIS. THIS is why Jiang Cheng infuriates me. This is why I had to make this blog. Because I don't care about Jiang Cheng, love him, hate him, think he's the most evil scum imaginable, think he's the true victim of mdzs, I literally don't care. I don't have enough investment in the character to give a fuck about how accurate he is.

But I love Lan Wangji. I really do (and Wei Wuxian, and Wen Ning, and Wen Qing, and Jin Ling, and every other character even peripherally related to Jiang Cheng). So to see the characters I do care about being warped and twisted, just to try and force a particular narrative to play out about this one character? I've spent the past idk two hours as I set this up frothing with rage.

It's not like he's the main character of this fic. He's one of the last ones listed (after characters that are actually deceased throughout the entirety of the fic), and there's no, idk, Yunmeng siblings or reconciliation tag or anything. Full confession, I haven't finished the fic, but I'm well over halfway through, so I can somewhat confidently say that his presence, while maybe playing into something in the endgame, is not super critical.

And yet. The author, who until that point had been pretty good with their characterisations, felt the need to overlook one of the main characters primary personality traits (Lan Wangji's desire to protect people and keep safe that which he loves) in order to... make it slightly easier for Jiang Cheng to be shoehorned into the plot? Why? Just... why?

I'm frustrated. Frustrated, and confused. Is it lack of imagination? Could the author not think of a single other way Jiang Cheng might come into contact with Wei Wuxian after the first siege (assuming, of course, that he is alive)? I don't believe that, the author did well enough with thinking up some left field plot points at other stages of the fic. Did they overlook the fact that, Jiang Cheng having demanded Lan Wangji take him to Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji could have just... not done that? Lan Wangji, Mr. You Are Not Qualified To Talk To Me, had no choice but to acquiesce to Jiang Cheng's will. He couldn't have just. refused. Or walked away from the conversation. Knocked him out and left. Or called out the inherent contradiction of Jiang Cheng wanting to visit someone he killed (again, regardless of your opinion on Jiang Cheng's culpability, it is made clear in canon that that is the version of events Lan Wangji knows/believes). Or at the very least placed conditions on Jiang Cheng that he's not allowed to do anything to harm Wei Wuxian.

But nope! In the space of a single scene, just by his very presence, apparently, Jiang Cheng is able to turn a fully fledged, well characterised version of Lan Wangji into a robot that cannot disobey a human's will due to it's programming.

And it may seem like I'm ragging on this poor author, or that I'm getting too worked up over one scene, and, and, yeah, that would... that would be correct (hence I'm trying to avoid saying anything identifying about the fic, though I realise that might lessen the impact of my arguments). But the thing is, it's not just this fic. Or just this author.

It's everywhere.

I cannot count the number of fics that have characters that otherwise align pretty well with their canonical selves, only for all that to go out the window the second Jiang Cheng shows up. It's like people can't help themselves. Jiang Cheng appears, and every other character must suddenly become whatever version of themselves makes Jiang Cheng appear most sympathetic/reasonable/well-intentioned. Whatever helps the author make Jiang Cheng be what they want him to be.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji definitely get this the worst. Wei Wuxian goes from an intelligent, calculating individual, who excels at reading the situations he's in and figuring out what's going to get him the outcome he wants*, to a reckless idiot who charges in without thinking because he wants to "be a hero". And Lan Wangji goes from someone who has repeatedly failed to save the ones he loves, and so is appropriately determined to protect them as much as he can (without becoming his father), to someone who thinks he always knows best**, and will happily put someone he loves into a potentially deadly situation because... I don't know. His thinking is pretty much never clearly explained, but I've seen different half-reasons. Sometimes Lan Wangji just thinks that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are such good, good brothers, and that Jiang Cheng is so important to Wei Wuxian that the chance to hold a conversation with him is worth Wei Wuxian... best case scenario, being verbally abused, worst case, being tortured to death. Sometimes he thinks he wouldn't be able to stop Jiang Cheng which... haha. Even Jin Ling, who reflexively defends Jiang Cheng over everything, thinks that Jiang Cheng doesn't stand a chance against Lan Wangji. Sometimes he thinks he shouldn't interfere with someone else's family... even though they aren't related, and Jiang Cheng cannot, under any circumstances, acknowledge Wei Wuxian as anything other than a disciple/servant. Also, Lan Wangji gets involved in everything. That's kind of his thing. You know... going where the chaos is? There's certainly a lot of chaos whenever Jiang Cheng is around...

But really, it's everyone. Wen Ning goes from being so defensive of Wei Wuxian that he breaks a promise and reveals a secret he kept for nearly twenty years just to get Jiang Cheng to stop talking shit, to usually being passively pushed into the back seat, his bond with Wei Wuxian glossed over in favour of the "brothers"***. Wen Qing, a person so devoted to Wei Wuxian that she sacrificed herself and her beloved brother on the off chance that it would mean he wouldn't have to face consequences for Jin Zixuan's death, is suddenly chastising Wei Wuxian for not doing more to smooth over their relationship. Jin Ling goes from creating a diversion so that he can help Wei Wuxian escape Jiang Cheng, despite knowing he would get in trouble for it, to trying to trick them into being in the same room. It's everyone.

Every. Single. Character. Must be changed, must behave in ways antithetical to their personalities and relationships, because it seems that's the only way many people can reconcile with their affection for a character that behaves the way Jiang Cheng does. In order to keep Jiang Cheng even slightly resembling his canonical self (angry. violent. verbally abusive at every possible opportunity), and yet still have him be welcomed and beloved by the other characters, every other character must lose integral parts of themselves. Mo Dao Zu Shi is, in many ways, a surprisingly tightly woven story when you start pulling threads, and if you want that jumper to work like pants, you need to get the scissors and start cutting.

Or at least, I can only assume that's what's happening. I can't fathom any other reason as to why so many fics, that are otherwise fairly true to character, veer so wildly OOC as soon as he appears. And it is so, so many fics. Note: I've read, ballpark, around two thousand mo dao zu shi fics (yes, I have no life. no, why do you ask?), and this happens in a staggering amount of them.

And basically, this is the root of my issue with Jiang Cheng. I don't care how you write him, he can be the most loving, soft, compassionate individual in the world in your fic, it's your fic, you write what you like****, I'm just going to engage less with those parts, because I don't care as much. You can make him greet each sunrise by weeping, and coo over every baby he encounters on the street, and weave blankets for the homeless in his free time. I literally don't care.

What I care about is the changes made to the other characters. That in order to raise Jiang Cheng, other characters must be dragged down. That he must be there, and he must be the secretly misunderstood caring brother, so every character that could challenge that in any way must be changed, by any means necessary, to prevent that.

(But really, do they? It's fanfiction. Can you really think of no way to make Jiang Cheng be the character you want him to be without mutilating everyone else? If you truly feel for him, truly think his actions make sense, truly wish to show how his relationships can be fixed without him altering his own attitude... then shouldn't it be easy enough, to persuade others of this, without turning the cohesive characters around him into a farce?)

* - since I know this is going to get disputed, even if only internally, by someone; the literal second scene involving Jiang Cheng (immediately post dancing-statue attack, Jiang Cheng suspects and wants to test with Zidian) has Wei Wuxian realise he's not going to be able to escape without some proof of innocence (i.e. reading the room, despite the stress of the moment). He then deliberately steps out of cover so Jiang Cheng can hit him, proving he's not possessing Mo Xuanyu, and then, when that's not enough to guarantee his freedom, he recognises that, and plays on Jiang Cheng's ego (and ymmv homophobia) by saying he's not his type, so Jiang Cheng can't take him without losing too much face, which Wei Wuxian knows he won't do, since Jiang Cheng is very concerned with reputation and appearances (after all, that's why he refused to help Wen Qing and Wen Ning, in spite of the debt he owed them). If that doesn't indicate Wei Wuxian is a clever person who thinks things through, I don't know what does.

** - not as worried about this being disputed, but I can see people thinking this so; no, Lan Wangji doesn't think he knows best. He did when he was young (or, at least, thought the rules he lived by were definitive morals), and that's what led to his rigid black-and-white thinking regarding rules and such. Then he got older, and got more experience, and made some mistakes, and realised that different people approach the world differently, and that he needed to be more flexible and meet people halfway if he wanted to be able to help them. See his change in attitude toward mo dao/gui dao.

*** - fic challenge; see how many fics that portray Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng as close, loving brothers, and also contain the close, caring, trustful friendship between Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning. It's very, very few. On some level, I think everyone who wants to show Jiang Cheng as #bestbrother knows that, from his actions to his attitude, Wen Ning is what a beloved, caring, bad-reputation-but-is-actually-just-misunderstood baby-brother-figure should be.

**** - at the end of the day, everyone has the right the write whatever they like in their fic. I'm a full supporter and encourager of that. But if you don't make it clear that you are going to write OOC, I reserve the right to feel frustrated when I stumble across it. I would never comment it in the fic itself, Ican't imagine anything more poorly mannered, but I am, apparently, not above vague blogging about it (hopefully vague enough that no one can identify any specific fics).

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #mdzs canon #sorry #the worms were too strong #on the plus side i do feel better now

[rowdyhughesy]

Don’t run away, not now - Trevor Zegras

“ I’m burnt out, shit I need some rest. But how can I escape you if you’re in my head? “

- chase atlantic

requested: no

wc: 870

song fic inspired by This is what a broken heart feels like by Marina Lin

You gave it all away

Didn’t even let me in

You gave the worst goodbye

And people ask me how I've been

I wished relationships would come with a trailer, that you could watch it before you fall in love and decide if you wanted to continue. That if the impending heartache that could follow is truly worth it. If those two years filled with kisses on Saturday mornings, the smell of burning toast coming from the kitchen, warm fingertips drawing invisible shapes across my back in the early hours.

The fights when neither of us want to admit we've been wrong, when Trevor threw dirty laundry on the bathroom floor or forgot to put the dishes away.

Or when I let my insecurities become an obstacle I had problems crossing on my own. He would be there with a smile so big the ends of his eyelashes kissed the apples of his cheeks. Soft pink lips placing butterfly light kisses on my temple. Whispering how I was the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on.

How I wish I could've seen the trailer and been prepared for the ending. Saved myself the numbing ache that followed when I walked inside that door. Trevors facial expression void of any emotion as he breaks my heart into a million tiny glass pieces. 'I don't think it's working out.' Echoing inside my skull every damn time someone asks me how I'm holding up.

Replaying like a broken record that won't stop no matter how much I scream or cry. Palms pressed over my ears crying for it to shut up. Begging for silence. If only for a second

Friday nights got me feeling lonely

Saturdays are when the bottles empty

Why'd you have to leave me?

Dani strokes a comforting hand over the top of my head. Trying to smooth out the tangled rats ness I call hair her other arm wrapped around my body, cuddling me close to her side. Mumbling words of encouragement in my ear as I press my cheek closer to her chest. Hot tears wetting my skin as they run down, leaving small dark splotches on her sweater in their wake.

Throat sore from the cries of a broken heart I’ve been letting out for the past couple of hours.

It’s been two months since Trevor left but the tears still haven’t run dry. Every day there’s new ones along with the clenching feeling in my ribcage. It’s like someone has a tight grip on my heart and slowly but surely the grip becomes tighter and tighter. Squeezing with everything it has until the pain is all I can feel. Until it’s all that’s left.

‘Why did he have to leave Dani? What did I do wrong?’ Voice cracking as another wave of tears bubbles up. Eyes bloodshot, glassy from yet unshed tears and eyelashes clumped together.

‘You didn’t do anything wrong honey you did absolutely nothing. Do you hear me? This is not on you.’ Dani rests her chin on my head. Hand having left it’s previous position in my hair so both her arms are now cradling me close.

Small drops of her own tears that’s managed to slip out landing on my head. Troy gives her a sad smile from his place on the armchair across the coffee table. Trying to hold back all his frustration at his teammate for leaving someone so hurt and broken. For hurting a girl he’s considered as his little sister for two years.

But all he and Dani can do is be a shoulder to lean on and someone to confide in as the girl tries to get over the boy who left without warning.

Don't leave me

Don't leave me

Don't leave me

It’s hard to explain the feeling that crawls up your chest when you come across your ex boyfriends Instagram post. To see those light blue eyes and big smile that used to make your body tingle, lips twitching up at the corners and heart feel like it doubles in size.

Just that this time it’s shards of glass ripping through my skin and into my bones. Tears pricking at my waterline and breath getting knocked out of my lungs. Whole body deflating when I notice the pretty girl standing with her arms wrapped around his middle and kiss pressed to his cheek.

Love you to the moon and to Saturn typed underneath.

And the realisation that he’s never coming back crashing over me like a building being torn down. Rubble and dirt all that’s left behind along with my heart.

Flashes of a face red from crying as I beg for him to not leave, tell me what I could do to make him stay. Without even knowing that he’d been one foot out the door the whole time.

Heart already belonging to someone else. That I was the obstacle he had to get over to be with someone new, someone that would never be me. Not ever again.

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