#again it softens the blow. which doesn't mean that you can always take it. but the cushioning is preferable

[smokingcottonclouds]

“𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬“

𝐂𝐰.𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐦, 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐜𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲? 𝐈𝐝𝐤, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦, 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠?, 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥.

(𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜 `♡- 𝐃𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲- 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 in a bad mood because of an anomaly, and blows up on a woman he would have never dreamed of screaming at, Y/n.

Everyone in HQ was tense, as they ran around trying to follow the orders Miguel yelled at them in a hurry as he stared at The Spot slipping through universes once again on his many screens, His angry muttering, and the sound of things being thrown echo throughout the hall “Y/n... Miguel sounds kinda busy” Gwen whispers looking up at you with a worried look, then at Miles as he looks down at his feet whispering things to himself as he shakes his head

Y/n had convinced them to come to try and talk Miguel out of giving the two teens an over-the-top punishment because a certain spotted villain got away from them again “Miguel’s always busy” Y/n shrugs smiling at Gwen's worried face as she pushes open the door to his office, a chair coming straight at them as they step one foot into his office, “Fuck!” Gwen yelps as she ducks the chair barely missing her as it smashes into the wall, Miles looks over at Gwen with a nervous look before clearing his throat and looking up at Miguel

Who was currently flipping through the many screens surrounding him, “Dios, ¿dónde carajo está? Quédate quieto, gilipollas!” Miguel mutters to himself flipping through the screens as he watches The Spot move through many universes in a second stopping at every Alchemax, “Miguel” you say, sighing crossing your hands over your chest “I'm busy” Miguel mutters through closed teeth as he doesn't even spare Y/n a glance his red eyes never leaving the screens “Miggy,” you say even louder this time looking at Miguel with a stern look “You need a break Miggy” you whisper Looking up at Miguel worriedly as he mumbles to himself

“Fuck Can't you see I'm busy!, Fuera maldita sea!” Miguel yells turning around and looking at Y/n with red-blown eyes, his eye bags and his messy hair are the first things you see, he looks so tired.

Your jaw tightness as you glare at Miguel, his red-blown eyes softening as he realizes who he just yelled at “Y/n- I'm busy ok I-” he sighs shaking his head as he sets a hand on his hip “No it's fine whatever you say boss” Y/n says with a small smile rather happily as she turns on her heels walking out of the office doors, Gwen and miles scrambling behind her, Miguel watches you leave with shaky hands as he recollects the things he said and the way you seemed completely fine with it as you left with a smile.

Letting Miguel know he was in a lot of trouble when you both get back to your shared home.

“What happened to you being the big boss today?”

Y/n says sarcastically trailing her long acrylic nails down Miguel's sweaty-toned chest, it going up and down quickly, as he tries to gain his breath “P-please! I didn't mean to yell at you- mistress!” Miguel whines throwing his head back as he tugs on the handcuffs, the bottom of your black heels teasing his red, cum leaking tip“I don't think you are sorry..” Y/n says bluntly, taking her heel off his dick and setting it on his thigh “I can’t- God I- I can't-” Miguel stammers tears trailing down his face, small sniffles leaving his mouth as he looks up at you with pleading eyes,

“Oh, but you can,” Y/n says sternly landing a hard slap across his face, Miguel's head flies to the side from the harsh slap and which seems to snap him back into reality, Y/n smirks as her hands trail down to grab ahold of his cum covered dick again, he sniffs and moans as Y/n strokes his dick painfully slow, he looks up into your focused eyes with his pleading ones as best as he could his tears clouding his vision “Shut up,” You say grabbing a fist full of his hair, Miguel obeys and bites his lip, quiet whines and soft cries the only thing being heard throughout the moonlit room, Miguel tugs on the handcuffs as you tease his red tip, placing a thumb over it,

Y/n Strokes his dick at a lightning pace, stopping every once and again at the base to trail a hand down to his balls cupping them and giving them a light squeeze before restarting the process again, Y/n looks down at Miguel with a disinterested look, exactly how he likes it to be treated like nothing. “Y-yes I'm sorry I'm sorry Im-!” Miguel moans loudly feeling himself about to cum for the 4th time tonight “Gonna cum Miggy?” Y/n says, resting her other hand on his shaky sweaty thigh

“Yes- ye- so close! Miguel Moans, his nails digging into his wrist as he tugs on the handcuffs his chest going up and down as he breaths heavily, tears streaming freely down his red cheeks as he feels himself tipping over the edge “To bad” Y/n whispers placing a small kiss on his sweaty forehead, her hand combing through his messy hair, Y/n grabs a handful of his hair yanking his head back his pleading tearful eyes staring widely into hers “wait please! I'm sorry I didn't mean to yell-” he whimpers eyes blown wide with hurt and confusion as he humps up into nothing chasing his high he was so close to “Sorry boss” Y/n coos a small smirk on her face as she stands up walking out of their shared bedroom,

Leaving Miguel shaking and whining on his knees on the wood floor, the warm tears trailing down his red cheeks being the only heat, and comfort in the cold moonlit room, as he watches you leave.

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 (please send ask)

#miguel o'hara x reader angst #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #sub miguel o'hara #bimbo doll #black reader #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv #bimbocore #miguel smut #𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬／(^ x ^)＼

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: How Mew criticises Ray VS How Sand criticises Ray

Something I've really noticed since Episode 4 is the increasing distinction between how Mew and Sand school Ray. The scenes in Episode 6 and Episode 7 provide a perfect point of comparison. Both Mew and Sand use the phrase 'love yourself' towards Ray but the tone and delivery is completely different.

Unsurprisingly, what Ray desperately needs in his life is a mother figure. Someone who can be firm and stern when necessary but still caring at the same time. Sand's approach feels better suited to Ray in this respect.

Sand starts by acknowledging that Ray's hurting but it doesn't excuse his behaviour and it isn't going to stop Sand from calling it out. He makes sure to explain why it's problematic, why it's hurtful, why it's dangerous. Sand's words are driven by concern. He's even worried about the guilt Ray would have to shoulder if he did hurt anyone else.

Whereas in the scene with Mew, he makes immediate assumptions (I still maintain that Ray was not high here, he looked pretty darn sober throughout the bathroom scene to me), but that's where Mew's mind goes. His question "why don't you love yourself at all?" implies that Ray doesn't have any self-respect to take care of himself, and so what he's saying sounds driven by disappointment. Mew's tone also carries an air of exasperation, 'I've told you again and again'. @thatgirl4815 does a great job of commenting on Mew's attitude towards Ray in Episode 6 (here).

After Sand has said what he needs to say, he still doesn't want Ray to feel too bad. Sand's little pat on Ray's knee is an attempt to soften the blow, paired with a slightly helpless feeling of, 'I just want what's best for you'.

Now let's observe how Ray reacts when schooled.

Ray may not always implement the stern talking to he's getting, but you can tell that when with Sand, Ray is listening. He doesn't try to deflect, retort or dodge. He usually looks guilty. Guilt suggests remorse. Which means you realise what you've done is wrong. Whereas Ray's initial reaction to Mew is slight shock. This is the biggest indication to me that Ray wasn't getting high here. When he finally responds to Mew, it's brushed off with a laugh - 'yeah, yeah, I'm fine, it's nothing, no matter' - it doesn't seem like any of what Mew's said has really sunk in, just that Ray doesn't want him to dwell on this point any further.

How Mew delivers his pep talk feels authoritative, 'I told you to quit using drugs' (and you didn't listen). Your mistake is not taking my advice. On the other hand, Sand never once says anything along the lines of, 'I told you so, I warned you, I tried to stop you'. It's not about Ray following his orders, it's Sand providing Ray with the context to hopefully avoid making reckless decisions for himself in future.

Mew seems to have accepted Ray's inability to change, and his criticisms are merely a matter of routine at this point. Whereas Sand seems genuinely driven to encourage Ray to do better for both the sake of himself and others around him.

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #only friends meta #ray x sand #sand x ray #raysan #sanray #mewray #raymew #khaotung thanawat #first kanaphan #book kasidet #sand was definitely giving mother hen vibes this episode #uh gotta love it when the parallels be parallelling

[yourejinx]

Undeniable Bonds.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Genre: angst.

Warnings: mostly language.

Words: 3k or so.

Summary: Y/N and Azriel can't stand each other, despite the centuries working together they just don't seem to understand one another. Too many secrets are being kept. But that bond between them keeps pushing, demanding, making it impossible to ignore.

Author note: the summary sucks, I should work on it later.

Chapter One?

I could hardly see anything past the blinding white rage in my vision as I stalked through the streets of Velaris on my way back to the House of Wind. How dare he?!

“Is it business or pleasure?” Azriel purred maliciously, a dark smirk tugging at his lips. 

Rhys’s face went pale with stupor but he snapped out of it fast enough to stop me from snatching the Shadow singer’s eyeballs with my bare hands. 

He should have let me land that blow. Violet eyes turned soft on my face even as he commanded in all his Mighty High Lord voice for Azriel to get the fuck out. 

Fucking miserable Illyrian bastard. Breathing deeply through my nose I measured the distance between myself and the steps of the stairs up to the House, and then started sprinting for it. Maybe the aching of my lungs would numb the rising anger that occupied my thoughts.  

The sun was shining brightly in the sky by the time I reached the training zone. Cassian was already at it with a punching bag, hair loose, shirt already discarded and sweat dripping from his forehead. He kept shoving strands of hair that fell into his eyes out of the way in between punches, an exasperated huff leaving his parted lips. A prominent vein popped into his neck as a result of the effort and strength with which he was landing hit after hit, wings tucked in tight, he looked stressed. Tough night for the both of us then. 

 I approached him as silently as a wraith, not wanting to disturb his session and starting my stretchings. 

“You’re late.” He greeted me. He’d probably been up since before  dawn. 

“You can thank your brother for that.” I replied shifting my weight from one leg to the other. He stopped punching and grinned at me, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Which one?”

I rolled my eyes. “Which one do you think?”. 

“Az is giving you a hard time again, huh?”

“Isn’t he always? You know it was supposed to be a quick meeting, we had to report to Rhys about last week, take the new mission and leave. But of course Azriel had to be a huge pain in the ass again by pleading to leave me behind because I “complicate things”, which only means I do put to use my critical thinking and not just blindly follow his every command.”

Cass chuckled at my evident irritation with the Shadowsinger. “You know, Az can be entitled sometimes but he knows what he’s doing…listening to him from time to time can’t be that bad now, can it?”

“I know Cass, he’s Spy Master for a reason, I know he’s a great spy, but so am I. And he doesn’t seem to want to see it. I too have some good ideas, I’ve saved both our asses several times now, but he just won't acknowledge it. It is his way or the hard way every single time, I’m just tired of trying to prove myself to him.” 

The rich brown surrounding Cassian’s irises looks like molten chocolate in the late morning as his gaze softens on me. I hate to look vulnerable but I guess if it’s going to be in front of anyone, who better than Cass? This huge scary looking warrior that was actually just a big loving teddy bear. Cassian was my best friend, the one who knows my secrets and fears and desires and has never judged me or pitied me for it. Not once. 

"You don't need to prove anything. You've done more than enough time and time again, if he doesn't see it then he's a giant fool." 

“Thank gods I’ve got you, who would burst my ego like that if not you, huh?.”

He flashed one of his radiant smiles at me and I motioned for him to come closer. Once he stood in front of me I made him turn and sit at my feet, quickly grabbing hold of his locks and braiding his hair back. 

Cassian was one of the first ones to warm up to me and make me feel welcome besides Rhys. It was easy with him, always ready to make me laugh and help ease my process of adjusting to life in Velaris. He quickly became my best friend.

When I first got here I was stuck in the mountains for six whole years with Amren before I could even interact with the rest of the Inner Circle. A safety measure for all, of course, I was unstable in many ways after escaping that hideous place they call the Court of Nightmares. I needed space to heal, and to learn how to control my powers. Rhys came and went very often, he took the time to actually teach me how to put a leash on my power –being quite similar to his– and to bend it to my will, but it wasn’t until years later that I officially met everyone. It was awkward at first, I didn’t know much about socializing given that my only interactions were with the stoic Amren and even before that I’ve only ever met the cruelness of my family; but Mor was excited to see me again when Rhys brought me to Velaris and Cassian greeted me with a big fat grin and open arms. Azriel on the other hand…the spymaster had intrigued me since the very first moment we’d met, lurking in a corner, his shadows hovering over his shoulders and curling up to his head, hiding the lines of his beautiful face. Mesmerizing. He seemed intrigued as well at first, hazel eyes assessing me with intensity. I honestly don’t know when everything went downhill with him, but now we just can’t stand each other. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I said after a couple of heartbeats had passed in silence between us.

“About what?”

“Uh-uh, not playing dumb with me.”

“Is this what we do now? braid each other’s hair and talk about our problems?” He tried to dismiss the subject by playing funny.  

“Well, you’re always pestering me to talk about my problems, so I figured I should do the same” I grinned down at him. 

“There was a time when we fixed our issues in other ways,” he said suggestively, waving his eyebrows.  

“If you want to get absolutely hammered at Rita’s I may be down to it, but not tonight. If I show up completely pissed tomorrow Azriel’s gonna lose it, and honestly I don’t want to deal with his bullshit for even a minute longer than necessary.” I hissed the last words as a sharp twinge of pain shot through my head. 

Cassian’s eyes fixed on my face, worry staining his golden orbs as he stood towering over me. He cupped my chin so that I was looking up at him now, his gaze falling to the dark circles under my eyes. 

“The nightmares again,” he stated more than questioned. “They can’t reach you here, dove.” His tone was softer. 

“I know, Cass. It wasn’t the nightmares this time, I’ve been…having these dreams of places that I don’t recognize, people that I don’t know and there’s always so much suffering. I wake up feeling drained of energy and totally confused. I don’t know what it means.”

Weird, blurry images of last night’s dream came flooding into my mind. Darkness and smoke, the ashy taste of fire filled my senses and made me dizzy. All I could see were the outlines of white hair and twirling swoops of black ink very similar to the tattoos on Cassian’s chest. An ancient language that I didn’t understand. 

“Maybe you should stop reading so many of those weird books of yours,” he smirked, easing the crease of my eyebrows “Have you been eating well?”

I shook out of my trance and stepped back out of his hold, adopting a fighting stance in the middle of the ring. “Enough of me anyways. What 's up with you? you seem stressed, did something happen with Nesta?” I said throwing the first punch, he dodged it.  

“No. I got into a fight with Devlon yesterday, he’s been playing us for fools and the females have not been training at all.” 

“You went to the Illyrian camps? I thought you were gonna wait for me, you know I love to spook the shit out of that misogynistic pig.” I grinned at him. 

“I was but then you had that mission with Az and then the meetings and reports, I just didn’t want to burden you any further. Besides, you’re rarely around these days. You know, for two people who supposedly can’t stand each other you spent an awful amount of time together.” He smirked. 

“Yeah well, we work together, it’s not like we have a choice. Though Azriel really puts in the effort to try and get rid of me.” 

“What did Rhys say?”

“That I was going on the mission and that was final.” 

Cass chuckled and some of the tension was lifted from my shoulders, his mere presence was comforting enough for me to relax a bit. I have had a massive headache all morning, I was barely able to concentrate on what Rhys was saying above the urging desire to bang my head against the nearest wall.��

"I can tell when you're not telling me something, you know? It's not just the weird dreams is it?" 

I sighed tiredly and dropped my arms to the side, clearly we weren't going to any further in training lest I spilled it all out for him. 

"Azriel suggested that I was having an affair with someone from the Hewn City, and while he was at it he also kind of accused me of treason." 

The General 's jaw tensed. He knew the Hewn City and anything remotely involved to that nightmare of a place has always been a touchy subject for me, being born as I was — a female with the power of a High Lord — meant an open invitation for challenge and dominance. It had cost me almost everything at a very young age. The mere suggestion that I may hold a secret agenda with the snakes that prowl around the power of the crown made my ire burn like a thousand suns. It also made me nauseous, I sure wasn't as horrible as Azriel made me out to be.

"Someone clearly needs to knock some sense into him." He gave me a look that promised trouble, rolling his toned shoulders and spreading his huge wings wide. 

"Forget it Cass, you said it yourself, I don't need to prove anything. Besides, Rhys knows the truth so I'm clear." 

He didn’t say anything else and just followed me back to the ring. Good. I have had enough of Azriel anyways. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

“I have a lead!” I said bursting through Rhysand’s office at the River House, arms full of maps with annotations. Lucien hot on my heels. 

The High Lord turned in his seat to take a look at me, then at Lucien and back at me, one dark eyebrow arched high in question. Mere seconds later I felt a talon slide gently across my mental shield, asking for permission. I granted him access. 

“Does Lucien know what this is all about?” his voice sounded in my head. 

“Just that I’ve been hunting down a group of slavers. He offered some insight when he saw me looking for connections between Spring and Night Courts.” 

It wasn’t entirely a lie, we have been investigating the disappearance of fae females for the past year now, I had first noticed it one night when I was sneaking some of them out of the Hewn City to a Shelter in the outskirts of Velaris. Only Rhys and I knew about it. I just couldn’t leave those poor women to suffer as I had in that horrible place, but it was too risky, and as much as Rhys has been doing some political changes concerning the Night Court, it still was a very complex matter. So we investigated thoroughly about whom we would be bringing to our home. Just a few at a time, Rhys had said, we can’t risk bringing spying eyes here, and a large group of females vanishing into the night will certainly attract Kier’s attention back to us. 

A couple of months ago, the group I was supposed to escort out went missing. There wasn’t a whisper of them in the entirety of the Court of Nightmares, and the female servants were too afraid to speak. I just knew someone had been watching me, it had been a warning and a message. Stay out of our business. 

He nodded, then spoke out loud. “What did you find?” 

“Well I think they may be using the remnants of the Spring Court as some sort of Warehouse or… storage.” 

The thought alone of what those faeries may be enduring down there had my hands curling into fists, knuckles going white. “Since Tamlin’s left there aren't really many rules standing, his people have been barely subsisting; it is not that uncommon that in times of need people tend to turn against their own.” 

Lucien’s face was grim, probably remembering what had happened and his role in it. He blinked twice, then said, “they could be using the rivers and the caves to get in and out without being noticed” he offered; “just like I used to do to get out of Autumn. I marked the rivers that flow closest to the caves and the closest villages. People may know something, maybe they'll turn their eyes from it if it’s convenient for them.” 

Rhysand leaned forward, studying the maps and annotations closely. “Good work, Y/N, Lucien. This is a start. We need to investigate this further and put a stop to it before more fae are taken.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of determination settle within me. We couldn't let this go on any longer. No more innocent lives taken or families torn apart.

I knew I was taking some risks with this, but I also knew that we couldn't let fear stop us from doing what was right. I would do whatever it takes to end this.

“We need to find out everything we can about this operation and shut it down. I can gain some time and winnow there tonight, for some ground recognition.” 

Rhysand stood up from his desk, tired and with a look of wariness written on his face, “ I would wait until Azriel returns from his meeting, then you can go together.” 

“I can very well do this on my own, Rhys. I’m not stupid and I’m very capable of taking care of myself.” I argued back. 

He looked reluctant at first, but he loosened a breath and said “I know you can. Lay low, gather whatever information you can but do not engage until Azriel arrives, understood? I’ll be sending him tomorrow morning.” 

“Fine” I said, rolling my eyes. But he went on, in that brotherly voice that always got me following his commands. 

“And be careful, we don't know what kind of forces we're dealing with here.”

I nodded and gave him a small smile. As we left the office, I couldn't help but think about Azriel. He would be on this mission with me, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. But, for the sake of the mission and the fae that had been taken, we had to put our differences aside and work together.

“Thank you, Lucien” I said, fully facing the Autumn male, “I know you wouldn’t reveal information that could be used against your friend or his court. So thank you, for trusting me with this.” 

He seemed rather surprised for a second, eyes shining in the dim light,  but then a smirk cut on his lips. “I trust  you, little raven, I thought I’ve made that clear.” 

I smiled back at him. “Well yeah, but thank you anyways, I know you don’t get to hear those words around here very often.” I teared my gaze away from him into the open night beyond. I should leave soon. 

“I won’t keep you from your duties much longer” He said, shoving back a few strands of that auburn hair that had loosened from where he had pinned them to the side. “Stay safe Y/N, and if you thank me again you better start bowing next time” Lucien flashed a foxy grin as he started walking towards the house. 

I couldn’t help the chuckle from leaving my lips. “As you wish, good night Prince Charming.” 

I heard his breathy laugh even as I winnowed out of the city.  

—----------------------------------------------------------

The morning sun was rising over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the lush greenery of the Spring Court border. I was standing just outside the small inn I booked for the night, waiting for Azriel to arrive. I hadn’t found anything particularly shady last night, yet I couldn't help but feel uneasy about it. The whole village felt out of place. 

Azriel arrived on his shadow wings, landing gracefully in front of me. His black wings contrasted sharply with the bright blue sky, making him look even more intimidating than usual. "Let's go," he said curtly, motioning for me to follow him.

“Good morning to you too” I murmured under my breath; if he heard it or not he didn’t tell. 

We flew over the sprawling countryside, searching for any sign of the illegal trade. After hours of fruitless searching, we landed in a small village. The villagers looked tired and scared, their faces etched with worry lines. I made to approach one of the villagers and ask if they knew anything about people going missing these days.

The villager shook his head. "We don't know anything about it. Our High Lord abandoned us a few months ago, and we've been struggling to survive ever since. Some have left for other courts, it is not unusual to find this place so quiet."

That was a fact, I had spotted caravans moving across Prythian as I traveled through the courts. Entire families leaving their homeland behind in search of a better chance at survival. This place once full of life was really starting to look like an abandoned graveyard, drying lands and growing thorn bushes taking place. Where the hell had Tamlin gone?

Azriel's face darkened with anger. "This was a waste of time," he muttered. "We should never have come here."

A twinge of guilt crept up my spine. I knew it was a blind shot to try and find them here, but other than the utter state of abandonment of this court, I still had the feeling that something was off. There was this wrongness in the air. 

I dared another look in the direction of the villager but he was already gone. Weird. If Azriel wanted to leave then fine, I’ll investigate further on my own. 

Hours later as I walked through the village, I noticed a pair of eyes staring at me, following me around in the shadows. At first I thought Azriel had sent his shadows after me but…it didn’t feel like him. I neared the edge of a dense wood and turned to approach those watching cold eyes, my right hand flying to the hilt of the dagger strapped to my thigh. They seemed to narrow in silent mockery and as I stepped through the bushes I was met with nothing but a lingering darkness. What in hell had that been? 

I returned to the village, searching for Azriel, to tell him what I had seen. "There's definitely something going on here."

Azriel sighed, “I’ll tell you what’s going on here” he started coolly, “Their fucking coward of a High Lord bailed on his own people and now they’re trying to survive with the little they have left still standing, there are probably shadow markets functioning across the court for those who still remain and try to sell their goods for food. They don’t need two Night Court scouts snooping around their business so no one here is going to talk. That's what is happening here. No signs of your supposed “group of slavers”. People leave on their own accord to avoid starvation.”  

He stared down his nose at me “Are you done playing your stupid game here? I told you we should have headed for Autumn. Now let’s go, we need to report back to Rhysand; I’ll love to hear how you will explain to him that you wasted both our time and his resources on a hunch.” 

I didn’t want to show him that his words had sting, that it still affected me how little trust he had in me, in my capability, but my mouth went faster than my gathering thoughts:  

"Why do you have to be such an asshole to me all the time?", my temper quickly rising to the surface, undoubtedly twisting my face in anger, sliping past my usual mask of boredness. 

“Someone has to tell you the truth to your face at last.”

“What does that mean?” I said almost snarling at his cocky face. 

“It means you’re not as good as you think you are, and no one seems to want to acknowledge it. I think Rhys spoils you too much. He handles everything on a silver platter for you and you rejoice in the riches of it like you’ve earned it. You're not his fucking sister! No one can ever replace her, what you're doing it's just awful. And he's so damn blind to it.”

Every word felt like a dagger to my heart. I've rather had him skin me alive than to hear those words again. Of course I wasn't Rhys's sister, although I do love him like a brother, but I hadn't meant in any way to come off as a replacement for her. It just felt right, to be a part of a family for once that I hadn't thought twice about my relationship with Rhysand. Does he feel like he needs to cover my needs just because he couldn’t do it with her before? Because he feels guilty? Has he been giving tasks just to excuse the amount of money he pays me? 

I stumbled one step, two steps back away from him. From his space, so dense and thick with loathing it was suffocating. I leashed my anger, spiraling down into that pit of numbness I was so familiar with as I said, with a face as blank and unreadable as his own, “I’ll give him the full report. And don’t worry, I’ll pay him back every last copper that I know I owe to him if it means I’ll never have to see you again.” 

It was the venom laced in her voice that had Azriel backing off this time, a twinge of pain and guilt flashing in his eyes but she had already winnowed away. 

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fandom #acotar series #acotar fanfiction #fantasy #acomaf

[blueberrypancakesworld]

NSFW - Alphabet - Mark Hoffman

warning : +18, minors don't interact/read, it's getting steamy under the line

masterlist

costas mandylor - masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A = Aftercare (how they are after sex).

°Aftercare for Hoffman includes wiping away blood and tears but any bodily fluids she can only clean up after looking at his work. He would want to see his handprints and maybe even take a few pictures of them.

°But if it's not his office and you're in a motel or in a bed, he'll wrap his hands around her and pull her close. Hold her close and give her a grateful kiss on the head.

°,,You've been so good for me sweetheart"

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B = Bodypart (his favorite part of you and them)

°His favorite body part in himself, besides his cock that he knew he could fuck you silly, is his hands. He loved running them over your skin, leaving his marks on your skin and reaching for you. Wrapping them around your neck and squeezing you, listening to you gasp and gasp as he continued to fuck you. You looked so fragile in his eyes that it was only his right that he had to train you so that you wouldn't break so easily...with his own hands.

°He loves your neck and your thighs. Wear a rollneck sweater and a short skirt for him he is glued to you and won't let you go. He loved to leave markcieurngen on his neck to see how the choke marks showed up. The red stripes and marks as well as the scratches on your soft warm thighs was pure beauty.

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C= Cum (anything to do with cum)

°Call it obsession but he loves cumming inside you, leaving you in position for a moment and just waiting for him to soften up again. Not just a time to cuddle but also to tell his favorite how good it was for him.

°,,Let's wait a moment mhhh sweetie?"

°But also licking the liquid from his hands or having it licked from his heart which he had enjoyed minutes before is something he likes to do and jokes that it is the taste of love between them.

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D = Dirty Secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

°A thought that had slowly settled in his head about what if he could give Strahm the ultimate blow with a little video he made himself. Hoffman is not stupid he knew exactly how Strahm looked at his girl and knew the look of seduction. So why not give the special agent a demonstration of how good his girl can be.

°He's not the biggest fan of role play, but what if he had met you under different circumstances. He a simple cop out at night and you a whore with maybe a little too much drugs and well pleasing is pleasing.

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E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

°He had many partners but no real longer relationship because he was rather married to his job up to a certain point. But when he met you, that was finally going to change. Because he finally wanted to have someone to love.

°He knows what he's doing, at least in his own way. He may still have to learn at first what it means to set a few boundaries and test them. Especially when it comes to his moral behavior, but that can easily be changed.

══════════════════════

F = Favorite position (without saying you know what it's about)

°Cowgirl = He doesn't always have the perfect amount of time to take his clothes off or most of the time in general. But having you on his lap while he's watching the game or working a night shift in his office, what's wrong with his hands repeatedly pushing your fingers aside and him calling the shots.

°Doggy = Bending you over his desk or on one with a deadly trap on it makes no difference to him. Even a bed, which is usually more optimal because he lasts longer than his favorite. A bed allows him to put his hands on her hips and pull her back against him. While he fucks her into the mattress and pillows and her moans are an unintelligible babble of whimpering words. He loves to put his hand around her neck and bend her back so that she lies against him to take him even deeper.

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G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? are they funny? etc.)

° He is definitely the serious type when it comes to sex and foreplay. For him, it's something that's almost precious to have built up such a bond that he can drive over your body with a loaded and ready-to-fire gun...but in the end he would do what he wants anyway so it wouldn't necessarily make a difference.

°If he's in a good mood and wants to get one over on Strahm, he's always up for a bit of fun and flirting. You snuggled up to him while Strahm came in and a line left Hoffman's lips for the horrified look on Strahm's face.

══════════════════════

H = Hair (how shaved is it? Does the trunk match the apple? ect.)

°Hoffman paid attention to his appearance, he is always a policeman and represents an important aspect. Even after his accidents and burns he wants to look well-groomed. He always shaves when he takes a shower but the happy trail stays on.

°Only when he has to hide for several days or weeks is grooming not always the first thing on his mind, but a shave can quickly change that. But yes his hair downstairs is the same shade as upstairs.

══════════════════════

I = Intimacy (how are they at the moment the romantic aspect)

°Romantic aspects count if you both have a bed at all and not a cold table or a wall. But Hoffman would take a bouquet of flowers with him on special occasions, which would end up torn and mixed up somewhere anyway if you threw it aside and just slept together.

══════════════════════

J = Jack off ( mastubation headcanon)

°Since you've been together, he doesn't necessarily crave it, you can give him so much more. And you both know that. But when he's away for a while on a secret mission or in hiding, he always has a few private photos of you and if he doesn't, it's not the first time his darling has had the idea that you can send things.

°He will either use his imagination and come up with something. But a photo or video is enough to give him what he wants. Even before you got together, he just imagined that it was you stroking his cock, looking at him with a tear-filled gaze and feeling so warm and soft around him.

══════════════════════

Kink = (one or more of the kinks)

°Degradation = He makes the rules and he keeps those rules even through degradation. He knew what he could do to you. Knew exactly that her fingers played with the sleeve of her sweater more nervously and excitedly. Her thighs moved and she moved her hips slightly on the chair to get the same good feeling. Only to hear Hoffman's shameful words as he looked at her with a punishing yet smirky grin.

°,,Do I have to tell you to come here again or has that one round made you stupid sweetie?"

°Pain Play = He's gotten enough pain in his life and maybe as such he wants to see how far he can rub his sweetheart with it. He loves to wipe away her sweet tears while dragging a knife or his gun across her skin. But he knows that behind the fearful look there is lust and he is prouder and prouder every time she takes more and more.

°,,Longer than before such a good girl"

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L = Location (favorite place to do it)

°His office as often as he has to stay in the police station he can't even list. But when you come by to play the worried girlfriend, of course, the music is suddenly turned up or his door is locked...only when Agent Strahm is still there does the poor guy get a show he didn't ask for.

°Next to his office, the individual surveillance rooms in the games, no matter how big or small, Hoffman finds a place to have fun. In and during the game but also his car is a possibility if he has to observe someone.

══════════════════════

M = Motivation (what turns them on)

°Jealousy = When he's jealous, he's overwhelmed by the need to make it clear to everyone in the room that you're his. That he is yours and you are his. Whether with or without an audience, one wrong look from another man would be enough to feel his hand on your body.

°Skirts = He loves it when you wear pantyhose or knee-highs but a skirt so short that he can see your thighs, he's mesmerized. When you're in a meeting or interview, his hand is definitely on them. Loves to run it over the soft warm skin and squeeze everything while he imagines how he would take you afterwards.

══════════════════════

N = No (something they wouldn't do, dismissing)

°Gentle = Not necessarily a direct no but reluctant to hear from his partner. He is not and would never be the completely gentle type. He is too attached to rules and above all power, which is why he is not always gentle with his sweetheart.

°Vanilla = If he were your first, he would give you the full specktrum. From gentle to painful but completely "boring" he wouldn't like it. Once to get used to it, but after that he will do everything and bring everything closer to you to get variety between you.

══════════════════════

O = Oral (preference whether giving or receiving, skill, ect.)

°If he gives you head, it's rare on the one hand, not because he doesn't love to see you shake while you scream his name. It's because he could do so much more to bring you under his control. But his hands rest on the soft thighs of his beloved, pushing them apart with the gentle squeeze that she should leave them open and he tastes her until he either has enough or lets her come.

°,,Scream my name darling and I'm all yours I promise"

°Hoffman loves the effectiveness of being sucked off by her. Not only does he not need much space and his desk in the office is more than enough. Also his hands reaching into her hair and him setting the pace as she takes him more and more. The tears running down her cheeks, he wipes them away only to praise her as he hears her muffled moans.

°,,Look at you crying and still can't get enough you dirty girl"

══════════════════════

P = Pace (are they fast and hard? slow and sensitive? etc.)

°Hoffman is definitely the hard and fast type. Whether it's a longer foreplay or just a quickie. During sex he vents his frustration and wants to lose himself in the feeling and in her, which is why he takes his rough hard side into the bedroom.

°However, he can also be gentle and slow, especially when he has his sweetheart sitting on his cock. She warms his cock or her mouth is around his cock. He gently runs his fingers through her hair and he is grateful for what she has done.

°But on special occasions when they are not full of toys and new techniques, he will respond to your wishes and requests and make you happy.

══════════════════════

Q = Quickie (their opinion on quickies, how often etc)

°Quickies are his favorite thing to do besides long laps. Especially when she hides under his table or he can have his way with her body and it comes to a quick end. He uses her the way he wants and she gives herself to him alone.

°In the days and weeks when he hardly ever leaves his office or the police station, a quickie is in there at least half the time. Too often he has to calm down when Strahm gets on his nerves and he wants to lose himself in her.

══════════════════════

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

°He experiments a lot and especially likes to experiment with his sweetheart. For him, sex is not only interesting because of the feeling of trying out new things. But the thought of trying out new places where they could be caught is more than tempting for the policeman.

°,,New coordinates, new fun"

°He would risk everything and perhaps this would be a consequence of his arrogance. But especially in places where a game had been played and the police did not yet know where he would do it with them. The idea that Strahm has a clue that leads not only to Hoffman but also to his activities is a particularly satisfying thought.

══════════════════════

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go? how long can they last?)

°Hoffman is a policeman and a rather athletic guy, apart from his age, he can usually go two to three rounds. On good days and especially when you've teased him and he just needs you, he can go four rounds, but afterwards he's not the only one who needs a good rest.

°,,Oh sweetie, don't... we're just getting started"

°Hoffman has time and can be very patient when he wants to be and he is patient when it comes to his pleasure and your posture and almost torture. He will take his breaks but he knows exactly how long he has to and can take to give you both what you need.

°,,If you keep doing this-ah then..."

══════════════════════

T = Toys (do they have toys? do they use them? on their partner or themselves?)

°Pistol = His pistol, even if it's actually a service weapon, something he's always wanted to use and would use on her. What was initially used for teasing and foreplay turned into something more serious between them after she sent him a video of her fucking his gun. He loved to see that little flicker of fear in her eyes when he pulled the unsecured gun over her body. Her tongue ran over the metal and her juices and saliva mingled on the barrel of the gun.

°Traps = Hoffman, though not the best trap maker, has been given more than his fair share of traps by John. His lust and will is enough to turn these machines into something else that could be the little extra between him and his partner.

══════════════════════

U = Unfair (how they love to tease)

°He loves to tease you, watching the warmth leap onto her cheeks. The actually raised gaze slips to the floor and she tries to move away from him. Only for him to grab her wrist and pull her onto his lap. Especially in public and in the police department in his office with the door open. Knowing that Strahm could see him, Hoffman's girlfriend was holding on to him too tightly.

°,,Are you going to be good or are you going to ask the department for a show?"

°But just as he can tease, he quickly learned that his girlfriend loved to tease him too. The reporter who came to the police station wearing a flamboyantly short skirt and a wide neckline and conducted interviews with Agent Strahm. She put her arm on the policeman's but her eyes were on Hoffman. She went to him next and it took him all his effort not to pull her into his office and remind her that he saw everything.

°,,Maybe I need to borrow the journalist for a moment...for a private interview"

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V = Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make, etc.)

°Hoffman is not necessarily loud when it comes to noise, but rather his words. He can whisper them quietly and convince you that you can hear his voice by now because he fucks you so well. But he can also be quieter when he's in the office with you and doesn't want Strahm to come in.

°Besides degrading words and his rules, he is still the moaning type. He can lose himself in your cunt and especially after a long hard day he won't hold back his noises.

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W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

°The reverse bear trap stays on during sex without the timer, of course, but it stays on. This dangerous game in which he loses himself with his beloved gets wilder from time to time until he reaches for the bear trap and puts it on her head after she couldn't stay quiet. But her stupid moans and pleas are all the more beautiful to Hoffman's ears.

°,,Come on, speak up and I'll stop or can't you...you usually open your mouth so well"

°When you play with him he hates not being in control on the one hand, but develops a game of his own in which he finds another undressed top for every task he solves and you end up lying naked on a big bed in front of him. He had never solved so many traps and puzzles for a pussy. But he would do anything for his sweetie.

°,,Love let the big bad wolf in...now!"

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X = X-ray (let's look under the clothes)

°He has a happy trail that is the same color as his hair, it is 15cm/5.9in long and even though Strahms is a tad longer, Hoffman's is all the wider. Your hand barely fits around it and yet it's perfect. Fills you out like no other can. A fact Hoffman loved to repeat over and over again to his sweetie. Fucking her over and over again and seeing her want more.

°He knows he's perfect for you. That he is the only thing you need and he is the only one who can take you so well. You look at him with that innocent look every time just to become a whiny whore for him on his cock.

══════════════════════

Y = Yearning (how high is the sex drive?)

°High especially when he is in the middle of one of his games. He's already tense and wants everything to go according to plan because it all has to go according to plan. Which is why he loves it when his favorite was with him, kneeling down and sucking him off while he could concentrate on the monitors. They were his toy for the moment and the hours that followed.

°But not only during the games and falls also during his work his thoughts go to her too often. His imagination and the things he wanted to do with her only to be disturbed either by Strahm coming into his office without knocking.

══════════════════════

Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards)

°Hoffman is a night person sleep is something he can only do when he is not being followed by the FBI or has to prepare a new game, which is why he always falls asleep after you.

°When he falls asleep after you, he can hold you in his arms knowing that you are with him and no one else because in his head there is always jealousy and the fear that you might leave him.

══════════════════════

@megustadilf , @lola-max-sugar , @slut4hoffman , @callmeklarise , @c0stass , @toastnpretzels

#saw #saw movies #saw franchise #mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #saw mark hoffman #mark hoffman saw #mark hoffman smut #smut alphabet

[vickyvicarious]

Imagine you are Arthur Holmwood for a minute. You're a young nobleman, had a few adventures, have a couple of very good friends. You've fallen deeply in love with the same girl as said friends, and you all propose on the same day but luckily you are the one she chooses. She loves you back, and is excited to marry you. Even better, your friends bear you absolutely no resentment, staying as true as ever and even congratulating you. This is the best summer of your life.

...Your father isn't in the best health, and unfortunately neither is her mother. You both want to get married as soon as possible - all the more once you learn just how poorly her mother actually is. You want her to be able to see the wedding. But Lucy seems worse after her seaside vacation than she did before. It's not just stress. She looks ill too, very ill, wan and tired though she doesn't want to admit it at first. She doesn't want to worry you or her mother, but you insist that she allow a doctor to examine her.

Jack's a true friend, and answers your call even though he was rejected by Lucy such a short time ago. The very next day you're called away because your father's health is getting worse too. Suddenly, everyone around you is very sick, and in two of the cases the best you can do seems to be prolonging the end a little more. Once your father dies, you'll inherit his title, so even outside of love for him, there are duties you'll have to take up that are keeping you busy at his side. Jack's supposed to figure out what's going on with Lucy, and while he claims she is doing better he also has no idea the cause and has immediately called in a specialist, which is terrifying in its own way. And then a few days later he writes that she is worse. You can tell immediately he's trying to soften the blow, and rush back to visit - and thank God you did, because she's dying, she needs your blood given to her. Of course you do it, you'd do anything at all to save the woman you love. The doctor praises your bravery and lets you kiss her sleeping form, but they tell you not to stay, to go home and rest. You understand, they don't want to worry her by seeing how weak you have become. It's amazing how exhausted you feel. Is this how Lucy has felt all this time? At least the latest message from Jack says the operation was a success.

But then the messages get that familiar tone again, of trying to cover up a terrible situation, and then they stop altogether. Your father is gravely ill and you're all he has, you can't leave him but you fear Lucy may be doing just as badly. You're desperate, so you turn to your other best friend, ask him to please go and check up on the situation. You feel terrible asking both Lucy's rejected suitors like this, but you know they will stand by both of you. And once again you're glad you did, because the same morning he sends you a telegram that Lucy's mother has died. She'll never make it to the wedding now, but that's the least of your concerns anymore. You just pray that there will still be a wedding at all. Quincey claims she's doing a little better, but you've heard that before.

Sure enough, the next afternoon she asks for you. You already know what that means. Lucy, your Lucy who always puts others above herself, who had to be convinced to see a doctor in the first place for your sake rather than her own... She wouldn't ask for you when she knows your father is dying. Even with her own mother dead, she would try to be strong and to give you comfort; if she's asking you to come it can only be because she feels it may be her last chance. She thinks she is dying. ...And she is, that's apparent as soon as you arrive. You both try to be cheerful for one another, but you both know what's happening.

They won't allow you to remain by her side all the time. She looks to be in great pain. You're afraid to receive news of your father's death also. She asks for a kiss, but the doctor won't let you give it to her. She asks again, your Lucy who never asks for anything. The doctor physically throws you away from her. If this were any other time, any other place, you would have something to say to him - but Lucy is dying. And she cares about this doctor, seems to love him; and he's been here for her when you couldn't be. At least he lets you kiss her on the forehead.

And then she's gone. Only a few months ago, she was in perfect health. She was young and beautiful and so, so kind. She's the only woman you have ever loved, the only one you ever will. She's gone. You still don't know why. You were supposed to marry her this very month. Now she's dead, her mother is dead, your father will probably die soon, you have lost everything so abruptly and there's nothing you can do.

You break down and sob.

#dracula daily #maybe partially because he is so out of the loop #but i feel especially sad for arthur here #at least lucy seems to have realized something of what is going on in these final hours #but to arthur it's all a complete mystery #and the guilt over not being there must be terrible despite having the best reason he can't

[sazabi-rot]

Aight, so I'm just gonna post a quick excerpt from my Charmuro fic under the cut. I could use some pointers because I feel like I write Amuro really ooc, which pains me greatly. I'm also not the best at writing, so bear with me.

This is also a major au that doesn't make much sense, but whatever, it's a fanfic.

It was a funny thing, how quickly his life had fallen apart.

He wasn't unused to his life being controlled and meticulously planned out without his own wellbeing in mind by others, all for the sake of the 'Greater Good.' The seven years spent in enforced isolation after his performance in the One Year War was proof of that enough. Instead of being applauded for his efforts in defending Earth he was instead hidden away, deemed too powerful and 'dangerous' for contact with the outside world. Too much of a potential threat.

Yet another drafted teenager, being punished in one way or another for his service.

Though even that didn't seem as egregious as what he was now being subjected to.

The arranged marriage to the leader of Neo Zeon was purely political, Bright had explained, looking at Amuro with that same tired sympathy the younger man had grown so accustomed to during their time serving and knowing one another. It spoke a thousand words that were otherwise left unsaid as he broke the news and Amuro didn't have to parse through them all very hard to understand the general idea being communicated.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry something like this is happening again to you. You don't deserve it.

Amuro was sure Bright was sent by the leaders of Londo Bell in an attempt to soften the blow of the announcement, but he didn't much care for any sort of attempted platitudes. That didn't mean however he would take his anger out on Bright.

There was someone else he had in mind who was much more deserving.

Bright let out a long, heavy, sigh and wiped a hand across his face. It was a face that held a permanent sense of exhaustion and belied his true age, war and leadership being thrust upon his shoulders at such a young age that left him looking much older than he actually was. Amuro sometimes had to remind himself that the other man was only a few scarce years older than himself. "I'm sorry, Amuro," Bright finally said, at the end of the formal speech he was sure the Commander had been prepped on. "I tried everything I could to get you out of this. There's just no way."

He didn't respond for a moment, staring down at the half full glass of whiskey cupped between his palms. Bright had told him he had news when he arrived, and the look in his eyes had told Amuro it wouldn't be anything he would be particularly fond of. So, he did what he always did when situations like these arose that he knew could potentially be taxing.

He had poured a drink.

He tipped back the glass and gratefully drank down the amber draught, accustomed by now to the burn. "I suppose it's expected I'd be the one picked by him. Char always did have an odd fascination towards me I felt."

Bright blinked at him, his brows furrowing. "Amuro... Char didn't arrange this. Londo Bell proposed an arranged marriage for peace's sake. They deemed you the best candidate due to you two's... past."

Amuro's eyes widened momentarily and he stiffened, before sinking back into the couch he had been seated on and looking down again into the now empty glass. He glanced towards his liquor cabinet and thought for a moment.

He would need to restock by the time tonight was over.

"Ridiculous," He muttered darkly. "Our 'past?' Which one? The one where we were comrades for a few short weeks? Or the time before, where we nearly killed each other more times than I can remember." He huffed a humorless laugh. "What a brilliant plan."

Bright looked at him closely. "I don't like it anymore than you do. But aside from you, there's no one that knows him anymore. Not in the same way, at least. You may not believe it, but you're the best bet we have. I saw you two aboard the Argama together, at Dakar, and all throughout the One Year War. Some sort of understanding exists between you two."

A white hot flash of anger licked at Amuro's insides at the words coming from the man sitting opposite him. He and Char hardly knew each other. What was a few weeks of tolerating each other in comparison to the years of bitterness and hatred? What did it matter if they had reached an understanding towards the very end of their days aboard the Argama when Char's current policy of eco-terrorism and dictatorial rulership over Neo Zeon went against everything Amuro believed in? Everything they had seemingly promised each other?

No, he was not their best bet. It was more likely he would end up murdering the other man before the first month had passed, and where would their peace treaty be then? In the grave, six feet under along with the lives of countless of innocents.

There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say to get through to Char anymore. Nothing he wanted to say to him either.

He grit his teeth, hands tightening on his glass.

Bright sighed again, this one just as heavy and resigned as the last. "The ceremony will be held in two weeks time. After that you'll join Char in the Principality of Zeon. You're... encouraged to stay near, for the first year, at least."

Amuro mulled over it silently for a moment before replying tonelessly "So I'm a prisoner again."

That earned him a stern glare, but one without any real malice. "That's not what I said."

"It's what you meant."

He heard Bright stand and felt a large hand land on his shoulder. "Please, Amuro. It won't be like before."

Amuro didn't respond, nor did he look up at Bright.

No. It'll be worse.

At his refusal to respond, at least verbally, Bright huffed. "It's set in stone. There's nothing more to be done."

He heard Bright collect his things and finally lifted his head to watch as the other man shrugged on his coat, hand stilling on the doorknob as he looked over his shoulder at Amruo's still seated figure.

"You're a fighter, always have been. You'll make it through this." He paused before continuing, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Besides, you've kicked his ass before. There's no doubt in my mind if he gets out of line you can do it again."

With a nod and a solemn look in his eyes, Bright turned back towards the door and left, stepping into the chill night air.

Though the door was only open a few seconds at most, Amuro couldn't help feeling like the cold air swept into his house, creeping through the halls and lingering far longer than it should have.

-----

The wedding was arranged for a clear and crisp autumn day, and Amuro wasn't sure if to consider it a small mercy it was allowed to be held on Earth or instead view it as a mockery, that his last day on the planet for the foreseeable future was such a lovely one despite it being what felt like the definitive end of his life.

He refused a tuxedo or elaborate custom suit (both ever so gratefully offered by Londo Bell). He chose his mess dress uniform instead, the absolute closest he was to getting away with wearing his pilot suit which he would have preferred. He hoped he evoked the image of a soldier going off to battle, as opposed to a willing groom.

He doubted anyone else saw it that way, that he had essentially been drafted yet again.

At present he sat waiting in his private chamber for the ceremony to begin, a room that looked far too lavish and gaudy for his taste. In fact the whole venue was, he had surveyed the ornate hall in which his life would be soon sighed away before he has been herded to where he currently was, and found it distasteful. Large, marble walls and floors with golden streaks traversing said stone, tapering up into a domed stained glass ceiling, dozens of polished wood pews facing the alter where he would stand face to face with Char once again.

His stomach turned at the thought, and he swallowed down a lump in his throat.

Char, Casval, Édouard, Quattro.

He wondered who would stand opposite of him at the alter today.

"Amuro?"

He didn't need to turn around to recognize the hesitant voice of Fraw Bow calling out to him from the now open doorway of his chamber. She looked at him with the familiar, pinched expression of worry he was so accustomed to seeing on her face. All their time together growing up had taught him her tells well. He remained staring straight ahead, sitting stiffly with a look of resignation directed at the flowered wallpaper in front of him.

"Amuro, please," she tried again, a note of pleading in her tone this time. The click of her heels could be heard on the floor as she approached him, until he could sense her presence directly behind him. "Please, speak to me."

"There's not much to say, is there?" He replied in an irritated snap before he tempered himself. Fraw Bow was not at fault here. She did not deserve any of his ire just like how Bright did not deserve to be shot for being the messenger. He took a deep inhale before finally shifting in his chair so he could face his longtime friend. "Forgive me, Fraw Bow. I didn't... I didnt mean to lash out at you."

Her face was set in fond yet sad smile as she looked down at him, a slender hand going to run through his curls soothingly. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, exhaling yet again. This time he was considerably more comforted. "I could hardly blame you right now, even if you had meant to," she replied, pulling her hand back. Amuro opened his eyes and caught sight of the gold band on her ring finger and swallowed thickly. The reminder of Hayato and Katz stung at his heart, a burning and searing pain that branded their names on his heavy conscious.

He averted his eyes. Now wasn't the time.

"Still." He said somewhat lamely, unsure of what to say in response. He wasn't used to not being held accountable for his actions, but ever since the marriage was announced everyone who still remained in his life had been treating him like glass. As if this was any worse than the countless other atrocities he had been forced to endure.

it was, it was so much worse, he couldn't stand it and he wanted out, wanted out now

"Now, now," she said softly, hand moving to rest on her hip. "No need for that. You'll- you'll be fine." Her voice wavered only slightly, betraying her true feelings and doubts about the matter. Amuro sighed heavily upon hearing her voice crack but straightened up again in his seat.

"Alright. Alright then, Fraw." He said neutrally, not believing a word either one of them were saying. For the first time he cautioned a glance at the ornate clock situated above the entrance to his dressing room. Five minutes. Five minutes until he needed to leave this enclosed little piece of safety he was situated in.

#fanfiction #help #gundam #mobile suit gundam #amuro ray #char aznable #charmuro #amuchar #bright noa #fraw bow

[prettyboykatsuki]

beloved, could you please expand on poly krbk

ohhh man

i have A Lot of thoughts on krbk as a dynamic bc i take issue with how it is portrayed but i think the best way to describe your relationship to them is sooo very hot and cold. like dfjsksd it is so stressful in the sense that you NEVER know what your relationship standing is with them completely. every time you see them its something new.

tenatively you are definitely friends. but like. logistically? who fucking knows! not you and definitely not them. i think a lot of this has to do with how long krbk had been dating. until like other dynamics who i feel really don't date until well into adulthood, krbk has been dating since highschool. and they've known about each others feelings and tenatively explored them together since like... first year at least to me.

so in that way, krbk is the most inseparable of the poly dynamics. they grow as individuals sure - but they're so intertwined with each other it's hard to expect one without expecting the other. they've had the same friend group, same goals, same life for so long that it really is the hardest dynamic to snug yourself inbetween. they befriend you in complete earnest, though. like they both just happen to really vibe with you.

like i said, tentatively you are FRIENDS. they enjoy your company, and you hang out with the two of them. they're "the couple your friends with." and for a long time - there's no need to change that relationship. what makes it so difficult is that they both notice changes in each other, maybe far before you do and that inevitable disruption really fucks w their relationship.

krbk doesn't really know life without each other. for them, it was life before each other and life after with no real breaks in the middle. so something like a third person completely breaks the both of them for different reasons. it's all very messy and everything SEEMS fine and it is fine. in a way.

what happens is probably something along the lines of - you get into an accident or situation of some sort -> they disagree on how to handle it -> huge fight ensues. and sure it's about the situation but it isn't. not really, anyway. it's a very messy situation, lots of breaking down and anger but they realize they both want the same thing which is you and they have 0 clue on how to handle that. luckily for you, they have this big fight RIGHT in front of. so yk. you are right there to help mediate.

it's like a talk where you're going all night long and everyone is really getting to have a heart to heart even bkgs fussy ass. after you resolve, bkg is the one who rlly puts himself out there in terms of being your bf officially bc he really wants to show out and give room for the new dynamic. it's very different but not in a bad way, but you can tell they're not being as careful around you. kirishima is adorably nervous the whole entire time </3

he will at least ask for stuff like hugs and kisses but w bkg u just gotta spring it on him cause he's TOOO embarassed otherwise. they really struggle with how they're supposed to proceed now though like. if you have to inevitably return home and they're back to being w each other they suddenly realize how weird it is WITHOUT you around and are like "damn we're idiots" and they're antsy to see you again. dumb cute. kirishima is very clingy naturally and enjoys showing off how absolutely huge he is to you every single day. bkg is the same but with the size of his triceps lol they compete a lot for attention.

AND THEY'RE ATTENTION HOGS LMAOOO please. like they always leave first bc they are besties but you have like . other friends and that makes them so annoyed ESPECIALLY bkg like what do u mean u care about other ppl. they should die. so cute lol.

the sex is overwhelming to put it lightly. kirishima is unintentionally rough but bkgs commitment to pleasure kinda softens the blow a bit. a very switchy dynamic but bkg is a bit of a bossy bottom. kiri is LETTING him do that but sometimes when he's pissed at bkg he'll fuck the attitude out of him and let you do what you want. kirishima is much more lenient w u than he is w bkg and the inverse is true for bkg LMFAOO it's craziness. you are always worn out.

#return to sender #poly!krbk #a.krbk #poly dynamics my beloved

[tunastime]

I am soooo normal about your scarian fics (<— is LYING <3) for the prompts could I get 12 with scarian

12. contain / callous (854 words) (x)

The wind blows around them and the trees rustle. The grass makes waves across the hills and into the ravine. If it wasn't life or death it might be beautiful. If there wasn't the near-constant paranoia of being hunted it might be serene. The wind doesn't wash away the feeling of your hair standing on end. But the wind blows, and it swirls the flowers and the grass and a few of Grian’s feathers as they sit outside of the Keep. Planning. Waiting.

"Do you love him?"

The breeze blows Scar’s hair into his face. He pushes it back and looks over at him. There’s a gentleness to the lines of his face that seems so out of place given the question. Grian's stomach flips inside out. The sun makes his eyes hurt. He's looking at the bright green of scar's irises and trying to figure out if that's a humanly possible color or if it's a curse or if it's vex magic.

"Grian?"

He's staring at the shape of his mouth. When Scar says 'he' he means Big B. Which, in all fairness, yes, Grian loves him. But the shape of the word love doesn't fill the space Big B inhabits in his heart. He loves Big B in a way that is different. He loves him but it's not the same as being in love with him. He loves him with almost all his secrets. He isn't sure he can break it down for Scar in words that make sense. 

Look. There is the shape of you in the curve next to me in bed. No one else fits this space. The impression of you lying on my mattress reflects an impression of you in my brain. No one else fits this space. I killed you and I live with that memory but I would kill for you and I would kill you again with mercy. No one else fits this space.

I love you like a bird loves a branch's crook, like how sugar loves water, like how meat loves a char, like how I remember all the meals you like and you know how I like my tea. Like how Jellie doesn't care when I carry her like a baby in my arms and you remember what the worst spots to preen are and I will wash your hands when the pain is too much and I wont take an apology, I won't. No one else fits this space.

Grian's words are cautious.

"Not the same way I love you," he turns his body to him and lets his expression soften. His fingers thread through the thin blades of grass. "I couldn't love someone else the same way I love you."

Scar doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to, because he smiles a little, and he sniffles, and he turns his head away even as Grian shuffles forward in the dry grass. Scar moves into his lap. It’s so easy how they move together, as if it were as simple as breathing. This is a quiet confession of love. It is a confirmation. He presses his face into the hollow of Grian's throat. No one else fits that space. Grian is a person who's hands fit his. 

"Scar," Grian whispers against the shell of his ear. Scar hums. His voice trembles. "I love you, too much, too big, too great, I can barely contain it. Like a full pitcher of water.” His hands find themselves resting on the curve of his back. The fabric of his jacket is soft and leathery. 

“It’s just yours,” he finishes. “There are other types of love. Other types of water. But that pitcher is yours."

“Oh."

"Did you think I didn't love you?” Then an addendum. “It’s okay."

"No,” he feels Scar sigh against him. “Yes. I don't know. I'm not too hard to love?"

He asks like he forgets Grian kills for him. In Scar’s defense, he’s been dodgy and on edge and Scar is always uncertain. Especially with the undefined. Grian is his undefined variable. They’ve been avoiding it since the desert, that undefined thing. 

"Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” Grian presses his face against Scar’s jaw. It’s very difficult to breathe all of a sudden. His eyes hurt, so he shuts them. “I’ve loved you since the desert. I loved you in the sand and I decided I didn’t want to stop.”

“It’s like breathing,” Scar says against his skin. Grian huffs out a laugh and squeezes him. Scar laughs too. 

“Yeah,” Grian says. “It’s as easy as breathing.”

There are few facts of this world. The wind blows and it makes waves in the grass. The sun sits in a stark blue sky and it does not rain. They are sitting together in a world where they will both die. But Grian stretches and his wings cover them both. And for one moment, in a little death tournament in the middle of nowhere, it is serene.

#i wrote this with the spins dehydrated and i think #i need to do that more often? #scarian #desert duo #grian #gtws #gtwscar #double life smp #dlsmp #double life fic #trafficshipping #mcyt #mcyt fic #yeah they're really something to me and i think most of my scarian flops here #but i will still make them every day of my life #for YOU anon <3 #they make me ILL #go read my new one on ao3!!! #text #asks #fics

[many-gay-magpies]

i have a lot of feelings about merlin and arthur and magic reveals that i've struggled to put into words in the past, but im currently searching for excuses not to sleep so i figure, why not now?

i said something similar to this in a comment on a brilliant ao3 fic today (this is the fic btw), but there's something that just... rubs me SO wrong about so many magic reveal fics (or, more particularly, merlin revealing his magic TO ARTHUR fics), and its the fact that, in a great deal of them, arthur ultimately changes his views on magic BECAUSE OF or FOR merlin. like, yeah, sure, he ends up realizing in time that the "goodness" of magic overall depends only on how you wield it, but it never feels wholly genuine or meaningful to me.

a line i see used a lot in fics, by arthur in reference to merlin, is "if someone as GOOD as merlin can have magic, how can it be evil?". it may seem sweet on the surface, and in some respects maybe it IS, but it also seems to me like it just... devalues the whole lesson of it? or something? idk im tired. like,, if arthur saw a person he wasnt particularly close to doing magic he wouldnt be having the whole "hm maybe magic ISNT inherently bad or corrupt" epiphany (he actually DID think like this in the earlier seasons, which makes me even angrier with how the later seasons lowkey washed all that away and just made him parrot all uther's ideologies all over again). it takes someone who he believes is unfailingly good and kind-hearted using magic for him to start to maybe, sort of, tentatively changing his views on it-- which leaves the door open for that change to reverse were merlin to do something (or were merlin to reveal something he'd previously done) that tarnished his "good" image in arthur's eyes, thereby tarnishing his fragile perception of magic. "goodness" is a subjective, flexible, and unreliable metric of judgement, and as such probably isn't a solid foundation to build one's drastically-altered worldviews on.

im gonna go ahead and pull in a line that's used in canon: "i use my magic for you, arthur, and only for you" so... what? merlin's magic is ONLY good because he uses it in service to arthur? what does that mean, then, for the other magic-users, the ones who don't use their magic for any big purpose or in service to any particularly noble cause? it allows for the person who uses spells to, like, de-tangle their hair and clean their house to be perceived as evil or corrupt for just existing-- same as it always was. in the end, it's just merlin showing arthur that he's the exception to what arthur has been taught his whole life is the rule-- not that the rule itself is flawed in any way. i recognize that in this scene merlin was trying to protect himself and soften the blow of whatever rejection arthur might give, but a lot of fics (or at least a few i've read recently) borrow the line and use it in THEIR magic reveal scenes, and it just... bothers me a lot.

to me, none of this undoes or reveals the evils uther wrought during his reign-- it just paints over that. in order to do that, arthur needs to confront the full weight of his father's lies and all the grave wrongs he's commited, then work through and accept them so he can change things for the better (which is something i think the fic i linked at the start of this post did brilliantly). my preferred "reveal" would happen in a hopefully safer environment for merlin, where arthur might feel a bit hurt and betrayed for being lied to for so long, but ultimately understands that merlin needed to do it to protect himself, and so doesn't fault him for it.

and thus concludes my sleep-deprived ted talk/meta post/incessant opinionated rambling session of the day! with that, i hope to konk out and not see the light of day for at least nine hours.

#magpie thoughts #ahaha whoops this got long #might edit to clarify some points in the morning (afternoon) but otherwise. yeah #OH ots also worth noting i havent fully watched merlin in a couple years and am at the beginning of trudging my way through a rewatch #SO some of my memories on events and character developments and such might be off. #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin meta #midnight thoughts with magpie #long post

[sob-sister]

I won’t read to much into the follows and the likes and comments. I think it’s just simple social media tactics. It’s them trying to show that he could branch or simply be the fact that he likes her music. It could be a possible collaboration but dating would be a stretch. I think it’s wrong to put him with every woman he interacts with him on a romantic level. It’s disrespectful to her possible relationship. Like honestly just focus on the music. Her twin sister was her creative director for her last album maybe he’s looking for a collaboration in that part of his image as well. For all we know they probably don’t know each other personally. But I guess that’s why it’s none of our business. His team is trying to make sure he has a market in other genres to show that he’s not just another who raps. But I would like to see hid music evolve and become something of substance instead of catchy lackluster tunes. Like Jackman was good because he was vulnerable and it was a nice change from his other stuff. But I think it didn’t get a lot of traction, he decided to go back to his normal stuff. But one thing about rap music is that people want longevity they want music that’s gonna make them think and sit back to listen to the lyrics. He hasn’t reached his full potential because he refuses to evolve and grow as a person and an artist. Before he became famous he had confidence in his art. But now he’s so insecure and you hear it in his music. His sense of confidence is a false one. He truly needs to take a step back and evaluate where he truly wants his music and career to go.🌊

hi, and welcome. thank you for choosing an emoji, that helps me a lot. sorry for the late response, last night got a bit crazy and asks where flying in left and right. i wanted to get the shorter ones out of the way, but i also didn't want to give you a half assed answer as that wouldn't be fair to you.

the first part of this is about laufey, for those wondering. i didn't think too much of it either, i would need more proof than that myself, but i will entertain everyone here. i don't believe anyone means harm with their speculations. see this is what happens when he starves us of info. lol. either they are just friends, or it would make sense for a collab, but i guess we will wait and see. i didn't know that her sister was her creative director on the last album, that explains why she is always posting about laufey and what she's doing. thank you for that information.

that seems to be the general opinion of those i have interacted with. jack has very little to write about, since he doesn't really experience a lot of things being stuck in the confines of kentucky. we also agreed that jackman was a good album and it showed off his story telling, although it was way too short. he did say this album was for the fans, but i think it was to soften the blow for it not doing so well. it was a random drop, no promo and people were not prepared and there was no hype around it. that is not the way it should have been received by the world from a marketing perspective. he is not at that level where he can do something like a "drop and go".

you can tell that he is not as confident as he used to be and i think this goes beyond industry pressure. i think of the lyric, "but deep down, i find myself wonderin', if the people that write about me are right about me" from denver. i think he's letting the criticism (and some of it valid, for sure) get to him, and i wish it motivated him instead, because he has the potential, we've seen it. it's just that for some reason, at this time, which should be the time where he is like everywhere, he is … not. he also said he doesn't want to do press, which is not helping him in the slightest and to be honest if it's going to be the same regurgitated shit over again, i would rather he keep it. he needs to let go of this whole "privacy" thing, an interview is not a violation of it. you can talk about stuff, instead of telling us the same thing over and over again. i literally don't bother checking them out anymore.

asking jack to reflect on stuff is probably the biggest struggle. i think his motto is "ignorance is bliss"and if he sat down and had to reflect on something, he would have a heart attack. addressing things and seeing them for what they are is not his thing.

thank you for sharing. i will add your emoji to my #'s and the pinned post. have a good day!

#🌊

[billy-theratking]

Runaway Max: Chapter 1 Review

I find the entire first interaction at Fort Fun between Max and Billy fascinating because we get an in depth look at how Billy acts in canon and it's crazy to see how Max's initial impression of him upon meeting him.

At this point, it's pretty much a fact that he has a tendency to put on a charming front around strangers and that it may seem that he acts very oddly around Neil if you don't know about the abuse.

Max doesn't know anything about Billy or his really shitty circumstances yet, so we get to see it for the first time from a point of view without bias, which is great!

Billy was late to the meeting and I'm assuming that was intentional since he probably sees Max and Susan as a waste of his time. And if he can lash out against Neil's need for control at the same time? Even better.

That being said, Billy definitely knows how far he's allowed to push Neil before he's getting into dangerous territory. Which is why the fact he didn't look up at his father stood out to me so much. His choice to not meet Neil's gaze has a number of meanings depending on how you look at it.

First, in western culture eye contact is a sign of confidence and respect, so if Billy had avoided looking at him as a sign of disrespect, that would just further fuel Neil's already building anger with Billy's rebellious nature.

Second, it could also mean that Billy is uncomfortable (which is likely), whether or not him being late was intentional. And even though he's trying to hide it behind swagger, his fear of Neil still shows in his body language.

And three, Billy is avoiding eye contact as an act of submission in the hopes to appeal to Neil's ego and soften the oncoming blows once they get behind closed doors.

Only Billy knows.

When Billy and Max talk he comes off as playful (Max even described him as friendly) and I'm inclined to agree. Billy was polite even if he came off as a bad boy type, with lines like:

"Billy gave me this slow, cool nod, like we already knew each other,"

"Billy glanced back at me. His face was slack. Then he smiled a sleepy smile."

Though, paired with some of the more ominous lines, those interactions take on a darker tone and Billy seems much more dangerous. For example:

"He was smiling when he said it. He laughed again, pinching the end of his cigarette and throwing it away. His eyes were bright."

"-he never really looked awake, except... sometimes. Sometimes his face went suddenly alert, and then you had no idea what he was going to do or what was going to happen next."

With this information, it encourages the us to read into the conversation with a filter, one that paints the entire interaction in a bad light and makes us uncomfortable.

I also love the parallel between the book and in Episode 1 of Season 2 Mad Max (a nickname that he gave her btw).

Final thoughts:

'"Max," he said in a sly, singsong voice."

Which is the same thing he does when he's in the car and tells her to say whose fault it was that they were forced to move to Hawkins.

The line I'm going to share really goes to show Neil's character and parallels Billy's physical abuse. It's terrible and really made stop reading for a moment to process the implications of such a line.

"Neil always called me that [Maxine], no matter how many times I told him to stop."

Neil likes to act like a kind gentleman to lure in weak women, so when his true colors show, they won't leave him in the misguided belief that if they just do what their abuser wants then they can have the man they married back.

If blatantly refusing to respect someone's boundries isnt a red flag, then I don't know what is.

I'd also like to note that we get to see some similar behaviors from both Neil and Billy in the first chapter when it comes to putting on a facade in front of both Max and Susan.

That's how women get trapped in abusive relationships. That coupled with the fact that they are almost always isolated with nowhere to go even if they did want to leave.

But both Billy and Neil drop that mask from time to time when their emotions (anger or frustration) get out of hand. Which was why Neil seemed so aggravated when waiting for Billy to finally show up.

Quote of the Day:

"He was watching me in the flat, empty way he always did--heavy-lidded, like I made him so bored he could barely stand it--but under that was a glittering edge of something dangerous."

#tw: abuse #tw: neil hargrove #runaway max #stranger things #billy hargrove #max mayfield #character study #book review #thoughts

[mallahanmoxie]

evil has invaded my heart so now i’m just vibing and thinking of what circumstances would bring notorious attention hater eun jiho to partake, nay, lead something like a host club. i think my best bet lies in tamaki’s very real divide between loving someone as a person (a “man” in his case) and performing the duties of a host -- he’s striving to make these women happy, going out of his way to do so, in fact, but he’s not really doing it as, like, himself (note that when he does bring himself or the club into the equation it’s often in supporting roles to the pursuit of someone else’s romantic/affective ambition). he’s not their friend, much less their lover. he’s a host, he’s playing a role. here the performance necessarily rescinds any (or most, depending) of the vulnerability that comes with exchanges like these, which in their natural (as in not artificial) form are meant to be taken seriously.

it provides, in many ways, a shield. it’s how, for example, hikaru and kaoru can put on that brothers’ love act of theirs and the under layers of truth in it--which performances need in order to ring, well, true to its audience--don’t threaten their inner, private dynamic, even as haruhi’s involvement is upsetting the pre-set balance of their relationship. and, beyond that, it also provides distance. there’s an audience to which you are performing, they are the ones consuming it, it technically exists for their benefit. in traditional settings, the performers and the audience are divided by the physical form of the stage, even if these boundaries are pushed nowadays to make a point. within the system of hosting, the boundary is not physical but it doesn’t mean it isn’t present and constantly being pressed upon.

now, thinking about jiho and the boys (and even ban yeoryung, who in this context would probably serve as haruhi), it doesn’t seem wildly out of the question that these aspects of the system would be seen as benefits. i still don’t think they’d be inclined towards it (rather isolation seems the knee-jerk reaction) but i could see it. and (the performing of) hosting also introduces something else, which in jiho’s case would perhaps make the most difference: control. they are all already constantly scrutinized and objectified. peoples’ fantasies can and will run wild, often in worrying directions, and if they’re not something you can do away with or hide from, wouldn’t the second best option be to control the way they go? turn them malleable in your hands, curbing the want of possession, putting a stop to the personal and turning it into commercial, offering a service, establishing end hours of this performance of my life that you insist on me reliving. so that i can go home and be myself there. so there’s an end to this thing. if you want a show, i’ll give it to you. but there’ll always be a curtain closing.

in that sense, i don’t think it’s too outlandish a notion.

#im talking out of my ass here btw i haven't watched ouran in ages #i don't think it's entirely the same reason for everybody BUT none of the above is exempt from application to the others #you know how jooin is about controlling his image himself #and also there will ALWAYS be people trampling those boundaries (the girls at ouran seem much much kinder than the kids at the 4hk's hs) #but the fact that they EXIST and they're CLEANLY DEFINED and back by a SYSTEM and an INSTITUTION #again it softens the blow. which doesn't mean that you can always take it. but the cushioning is preferable #eunhyung plays into/with people's expectations already and there's very many things about his situation you can manipulate to subdue him #into agreeing into something like this #chunyoung is already so goddamn intimidating i think it's just mori senpai 2.0 he wont even have to TALK #it'd be very funny if he was the mori to lee ruda's honey but NOT in a loveable way #they're not tender. they fight. the girls are in on it for the 100k slow burn enemies to lovers. they're not even pretending about that. #also ban yeoryung would unironically take to it like duck to water. completely unironically. loves to see pretty girls smile. #she n tamaki are kindred souls in that regard except yeoryung is gay #and butch. obviously. #in reality i do think it would take some of the weight off their interactions with the rest of the populace #particularly when romantic affection is involved #perhaps i read too much into it but like. take that scene where the sunbae confesses to chunyoung in the classroom. how she bats dani's hand #away because dani doesn't have a /right/ to touch him so intimately but this total stranger is VYING UNIRONICALLY FOR HIS AFFECTION #but more than that for the position of his lover. she doesn't even /know/ him. everything she thinks she knows about him absolutely didn't #come from him. and yet she bats the hand away so spitefully. because dani is touching her perceived property. #and it really is about ownership. it's like he's an expensive handbag. it's almost decor. #jiho is right when he says it's like they're monkeys in a zoo. it must be so suffocating. #and wouldn't you like to take some of the narrative back? #for yourself? #ANYWAY. that's a lot. fuck. #simba lb tv #the lion reads #inso's law #no way that's showing up in the tag after the million tags i just put. if it does im cursed. im just playing

[obeythebutler]

I need me some Solomon angst, but could you do hc's or a fic for him where Belphegor kills Mc but Mc is like. His fuckin wife, sure Mc gets revived again but. His fuckin wife

Crushed ( Solomon x Reader)

PART 2 HERE

~

Solomon stares at the ring on his finger with dwindling hope as he walks, no, runs, towards the House of Lamentation.

The ring which he wears on his hand is an engagement ring, and you have one your hand too. You're his wife.

Solomon, being Solomon, put an enchantment on the ring, a spell that activates when one touches the head of the gemstone, and gives the person ability to feel the other ring-wearer's heartbeat.

He often did that on nights he had to be away, visiting the sorcerer's society or paying a visit to acquaintances. And, sometimes even when he was with you in the same room or the same bed.

When he touched the stone, he could feel your heartbeat, which assured him you were safe, alive and breathing.

But right now, when he touches the precious stone, he can't feel anything. You weren't the one to remove your ring while showering, and he had altered it appropriately so that the ring would never detoriate.

Something is very, very wrong.

So he's running towards the House Of Lamentation, and the iron gates are thrown open with a spell, the screeching sound akin to the storm in his mind.

" Solomon, don't look any further!" Asmodeus is already shouting his name as he feels him coming, one of the many perks of a pact. Other times it would have been a welcomed visit, but right now, Asmodeus didn't want his friend to see something that would make his heartbreak.

So he rushes forward and tried to block his view, break the news to him gently— soften the blow that the man is soon about to get, soften the breaking of his heart, at least.

It's mercy.

" What's happening ?! Stop blocking my sight!" Solomon snarls as he forces Asmodeus to stop blocking his sight, but then he wish he hadn't.

His mouth falls open, and his hands fall to their sides weakly on seeing the macabre sight in front of him—his nightmare, now come alive. This is something the mage couldn't have prepared for, and for the second time in his eternal life, Solomon is now speechless.

It's you.

You're not moving, your eyes are wide open— devoid of any emotion, any soul and—

Solomon runs forward and pushes the others out of the way, shoving past Lucifer's shoulders roughly, who is too in shock of what has happened, and what is going to happen.

Solomon kneels beside your body as he takes in inventory of the injuries, and takes a deep breath, which does little to calm the wave of panic that overtakes him, and begins.

He starts chanting a spell, one that healed injuries and torn flesh in minutes. His voice is shaky as he recites the ancient words, and tears threaten to fall.

Focus

Solomon tells himself as he recites the incantation— one that he learnt under the light of a candle as a thunderstorm shook across the land. He had cut his hand with a knife and healed it with the same spell, to ensure it worked.

It did, it always did, so why not now?

Why aren't your wounds healing? Why isn't your hand healing ? Why aren't your eyes blinking ?

" Work, dammit!" He shouts as he tries again for the third time, hoping, praying for it to work. His hands are shaking and his heart is pounding in his ears, which he is sure that the others can hear, given that they're demons and they have better hearing than humans. Solomon knows he reeks of fear right now—something that demons feed on with delight, but he's too distracted to care, he momentarily forgets he's in a room with demons who could feast on his soul if they want to, but he doesn't care.

When your hand doesn't move or your eyes don't blink, he falls to the ground. Weak, desperate, helpless.

His knees are too weak to support him now, the fear in the back of his mind—one that he was desperately hoping was not true, is reality.

The spell doesn't work on beings that are already gone.

That means you—you're gone.

His wife, his lover, his companion, is gone.

Not again, he chants—he can't lose you. He already lost many, you promised to stay by his side, you can't go away so soon—

He refuses to acknowledge the hand on his shaking shoulder, which by the nail colour he can tell is Asmodeus, who's desperately trying to offer him some comfort.

Solomon holds your bloody hand in, intertwining your limp fingers with his own, desperately trying to feel you—your skin, your heartbeat, anything—but all he feels and sees is your blood coating his hands.

His eyes travel to your neck, and then he notices the bruises, which have turned blueish-purple, and he registers the sound of laughing from the bottom of the stairs.

Belphegor, the seventh-born, Avatar of Sloth, someone he wanted to make a pact with.

The demon who killed his wife. Killed you.

Belphegor is desperately trying to catch his breath as he rests a hand on the railing and doubles over in fits of laughter again on seeing the scene in front of him, as if it's a comedy show, which it is, for him—except it's more macabre.

" A human has kicked the bucket, and here you are panicking as if it's the end of the world!" Belphegor's laugh rings in his ear as he stares at him with anger, then realization. He murdered you.

Solomon springs forward at him, rushing with rage flowing through his veins. All he sees is red, red the colour of your blood, red his anger, red eyes—

Lucifer tries to stop him, but Solomon raises a hand, and the demon is thrown into the wall with a thud, and a painting falls on the ground. The others are shocked, too scared by the sudden turn of events to interrupt. They knew the mage was powerful, but they never saw his wrath—until now. And Satan feels choked when his ire consumes him, and the demon of Wrath has to try and collect himself, lest he be reduced to the same deranged state Solomon is now in.

The look on Solomon's face is something else—one of pain, despair, sadness and betrayal. Betrayal because he assumed you were safe with the brothers because Asmodeus was there to look after you, when Solomon couldn't be.

But who will now explain to him the reason for his wife being murdered ?

Belphegor smiles as he prepares himself, already unleashing his claws in front of his body—ready to attack. But Solomon is wiser, and he ducks just in time before Belphegor's claws can tear at his neck, and smashes him into the wall with the brutal force of his magic.

" Don't! Solomon, don't do it!"

Asmodeus screams as he tries to stop Solomon, to deter the man from doing something that would lead to his own downfall, but Solomon barks at him to stay and Asmodeus does, like an obedient dog.

Asmodeus knows that Solomon is fully intent on snatching the life out of his brother, blinded in his rage. He's not thinking rationally, and if Solomon succeeds, he can only imagine what Lucifer and his brothers would do to Solomon, something that Asmodeus won't be able to prevent.

He can't prevent this now that he's stuck, and can only scream something in the hope that it will make the feral mage stop.

" Solomon, stop this right now!" Beelzebub rushes forward, finally after being stuck in that haze and moves, to prevent the sorcerer from killing his brother. Solomon waves his hand and a protective barrier forms around him and Belphegor, separating them two from the brothers.

He's going to kill Belphegor.

Belphegor frees himself from the hold of the spell as he falls, and recovers immediately thanks to his supernatural heritage, and jumps at Solomon with anger.

The sorcerer merely chants a spell that makes chains appear out of thin air and wrap themselves around Belphegor's body, effectively making him stop his movements and render him helpless.

The chains must be scorching hot, because Belphegor screams as the chains coil around skin and cloth, and the sizzling sound is heard of flesh and fabric burning.

Satan and Lucifer are desperately trying to undo the spell, or counter it, break the barrier, anything, but it doesn't seem to even crack.

The more intense are one's emotions while placing protective barriers, the stronger they are.

" What have you done ?!" His voice is cold and harsh as he screams into Belphegor's face, making him wince at the loudness. Solomon doesn't care, all he wants is to maim the demon in front of him.

He killed you.

" Killed a human, why, is it-" Belphegor's words are cut short as he wheezes due to the lack of air, because the chains are strangling him, coiled around his neck like his hands once were on yours.

" She was my fucking wife," Solomon growls as he stares into Belphegor's own eyes, and for a moment the demon's eyes widened on seeing the tears on the sorcerer's face and the anger in his soul. Belphegor won't be coming out of this alive, he knows this much. He thought he was cunning and smart, but he forgot that the human in the Devildom was no ordinary human, but a sorcerer who had pacts with seventy-two demons.

Solomon tightens his hands around Belphegor's neck, smiling when he gasps for breath. The chains don't affect their creator, and now Solomon is going to snatch his soul from him, just like he did to yours.

He has pacts with seventy-two demons, but he isn't going to make them kill Belphegor, no— he's going to do it himself.

The sounds of protest and begging reach his ears, but Solomon doesn't pay heed to them. He's lost in his wrath, and all he can do is focus on squeezing his neck a bit harder.

Tighter.

He channels all his energy on crushing Belphegor's throat— just a little more, soon his thrashing will stop and his hands will fall limp, just a bit more and—

" Solomon ! "

His head snaps around when he hears that voice.

It's a voice he was craving to hear, something he thought he would never have the pleasure of hearing again, and Belphegor drops on the ground as Solomon's grip weakens, because for the second time in his life—the sorcerer is rendered speechless, utterly dumbfounded.

It's you.

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x reader angst #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #obey me satan #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x reader angst #solomon obey me #obey me angst #obey me one master to rule them all #om! solomon #obey me belphegor x reader

[lebenspurpur]

AN: Helloo, wrote this because I spent today suffering through my post-drunk-vandalism hangover. Guess it's deserved but still, it sucks. After eating chicken broth my dad made, unsalted if I may add, for an hour straight I am now ready to be creative. I really don't know what this is.

Have the link to my Larry playlist while we're at it:

Pairing: Larry Johnson x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol

Wordcount: 1744 words

🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓

Larry looks really, really stupid right now. Stupid and sick.

His tall form slumped over in defeat, big blanket wrapped around him but not too tight, otherwise he'd feel too hot, too feverish, he still needs some air. There are tissues scattered across the couch as well. Fucking hell.

Usually, this would disgust you but it's Larry, you think you've seen worse.

Small sniffles come from where he's laying, whenever he clears his throat hoarse croaking leaves his mouth and he cringes every time he hears it. He can feel your judging gaze on his body, hear your arched eyebrow without even lifting his head.

His radio is blaring some kind of metal music, you don't recognize the band. Technically, the music is useless since the TV in front of Larry's bed is playing an old horror movie, bloody screams only adding to the grimy ambiance in the room.

"I-", you start but Larry lifts his hand before you can even consider continuing.

On any other occasion, you would've noticed the rings adorning his slender fingers, the metal accessories leaving a trail of dark smudge on his hands. Damn, did he have some nice hands.

Thankfully today wasn't a normal occasion. The metalhead in front of you had worse problems than you drooling over his fingers right now, one of them being the sickness he caught.

"Don't you dare say 'I told you so.'", he croaks out while he finally lifts his head, bloodshot eyes meeting yours. He looks immensely tired. You can sense his annoyance at this sickness, this hellish treatment he's in and can't seem to escape.

You take a deep breath in and drop your bag next to his opened front door.

"Alright. I won't."

You close the door quietly and deposit your jacket as well as boots next to it.

His mom always screams at Larry to finally get something for visitor's shoes and bags but he never does. Too busy, too lazy, he figures his visitors get it. Who even visits him, anyway?

The floor is, as usual, covered in stuff he hasn't cleaned yet. Unfinished drawings, sketchbooks, take-out cartons, empty booze bottles, you keep wondering how he manages to create that kind of mess in a timespan of not even two days.

You tiptoe over them, careful as to not to step into something. Earlier experiences have taught you to never mistake one of these seemingly empty cartons as really empty. Just last week you stepped into a fucking pizza the man in front of you didn't finish.

You sigh as you sit down next to him and Larry tiredly raises an eyebrow.

"Dude, I know you don't want to move but Jesus, we really need to get you to bed.", you then state, voice comforting yet firm. You use the moment to stare into his eyes, adore the brown, thick, deepness of them.

Larry groans loudly, voice breaking from how raw his throat is. His head falls back and he closes his eyes, a pained expression on his features.

"Don't wanna.", he grumbles quietly and you involuntarily crack a smile. Larry always managed to do that, even in the most unbelievable moments.

"I'll join you if you do."

One of his eyes slowly creaks open, observing your face to look for any kind of sarcasm or irony. As soon as he doesn't find any, the other eye opens as well and he leans forward again, blanket clutched tightly in his fists.

"Alright."

You grin at his quiet answer, hand reaching over to pull him with you. He obliges, warm, slightly clammy hand tightly grabbing yours. He follows you through the messy room, his blanket leaving a trail of destruction behind the two of you.

You kick open the door leading to his bedroom. Immediately, the familiar images of various album covers greet you. The air in his room is colder and less damp and you hear him take a deep breath.

Turning around, you mention for him to wait while you walk over, grabbing the blanket on his bed. You shake it a bit, readjust the sheets as well the pillow, all while Larry's eyes never leave your back.

"There you go, sweets.", you add as you finish, quickly turning around to see Larry standing the same way you've left him. Tired, slumped, and emotional. The need to hug him starts boiling inside of you but you try and hold yourself back. First, you have to make sure he gets into bed.

Larry slowly stumbles past you. During the last few baby steps, he drops the blanket around his shoulder, faceplanting right into the freshly made sheets. He's not even wearing a shirt and you huff at his stubbornness.

Larry's back looks strong like this, muscles contracting beneath his skin as he tries to get more comfortable. Your eyes glide over his spine, his wide shoulders, the small bumps where his ribs encase his organs. His olive skin is sweaty and long, brown hairs cling to it.

You cringe at that, knowing the feeling all too well.

Softly placing a hand on his back, you move closer, forehead scrunched together.

"Larry, darling."

He grunts into his pillow, a muffled questioning sound.

"I got a hair tie here. Mind lifting your head real quick?"

Larry obliges and lifts his head quickly, taking a deep breath while he does so.

Your fingers find his scalp and start collecting all the strands, securing them afterward with the tie around your wrist.

The man beneath you hums in appreciation as the cold air hits his neck, sweaty skin finally being able to breathe. You kiss the small space beneath his neck real quick, a short sign of comfort before you stand up again, hands leaving his skin.

Larry whines the second you do so, all while quickly turning around, sending you a pleading look.

"You said you'd stay.", the whiny tone only makes his voice sound more hoarse and you can't help the small grin from appearing on your features.

"In a second, sweetie. You need some water and medicine first, alright?"

He whines again but the thought of something fresh and cold going down his throat is enough to soften the pleading look in his eye. You blow him a kiss and then quickly walk into the kitchen, which is right across from the brunette's room.

It's surprisingly clean but what did you expect? Larry never uses his kitchen unless he has to. Which isn't all too often.

Grabbing a water bottle and placing it on the counter, you keep searching for the small broth packets you'd bought exactly for this kind of scenario. You find them in the fridge, the only thing in this room that Larry actually uses.

Chuckling you get some water cooking, all while pouring the powder into one of the giant cups Sal has gifted Larry a while ago. According to the masked man, everything tastes better if it's being eaten out of a cup and so, everyone has their own sets of cups, a premium gift from Sal Fisher.

Soon, everything's done and you maneuver your way back into Larry's room. Said man is awaiting you, eyes still opened as he watches you creep towards his bed, hands full with water, soup, and medicine.

First, you feed him the medicine. Normally he'd do this himself but you know that he'll just ignore the bitter juice unless you force it down his throat. Stubborn motherfucker.

Larry's sitting up now, back propped up against one of the many big pillows he has. You hand him the broth and he inhales it in less than two minutes, apparently, this is the first thing he's eaten today. Shaking your head at the thought, you tug a few strands of hair out of his face, smiling at your lover's appetite.

Finally, after gulping down half of the water bottle, the brunette leans back and smiles, for the first time this evening.

"Thank you.", he croaks out and you touch his arm as an appreciative gesture, "Does that mean you're allowed to join me now?"

You're about to nod as you notice the faint traces of eyeliner on his skin.

"Did you take off your makeup when you got home?", you ask, throwing a teasing smile his way.

Larry clears his throat, embarrassed that you caught him. A faint blush raises on his cheeks and you feel your heart swell at the sight.

"I might have forgotten about it.", he answers, gaze slowly meeting yours again, "But please, let's just do this later, dude. I am so fucking tired."

Huffing, you roll your eyes at his answer but you nod anyway. He'd be fine with the makeup for a few more hours. You just have to remember taking it off tomorrow.

"You're lucky I love you."

Larry grins at that, the usual wide, blinding grin, that makes your stomach tingle with fuzzy feelings inside of it. His fingers find your arm and he tenderly pulls you down to join him. Soon, your head is placed on his chest, and his arms cradle your shoulders, pulling you into his body.

You can hear his relaxed breathing as he finally settles down, nuzzling his face into your hair.

His skin is warm against your cheek and you smile into it. It doesn't matter how often you've done it, laying on his nude chest always makes you flustered.

Larry's fingers start to draw stuff on your back, the feeling more than a delight for you. Humming, you snuggle closer and the metalhead next to you smiles.

His eyes already start to close slowly, lack of sleep finally catching up to him. The quiet sound of the ongoing movie in his living room, as well as the metal music, make for a great background sound and you both listen intently.

You notice the way his heart beats, slow and steady, beneath the tanned skin. Unknowingly, you start to synchronize your breaths with his. In and out. In. And out.

Soon, your eyes close as well. Damn it, you don't want to fall asleep. Though, you suppose it doesn't matter as the man next to you pulls you closer, his breath warm against your ear. He wouldn't let you leave anyway.

The thought makes you feel giddy, excited, in love. Smiling widely, you try to press yourself closer into him, and soon, you too, fall asleep, enveloped by the arms of the boy you love most. Your favorite boy.

#larry johnson #larry johnson fluff #larry johnson x reader #larry x reader #larry fluff #sally face #sallyface #sallyface x reader #sally face x reader #sal fisher #lisa johnson #ashley campbell #sally face larry #sallyface larry #grunge #fluff #hurt/comfort #my writing #comfort #x reader #slashers #horror #videogame #Spotify

[mackenzielovee]

need you - barry

a/n: wow hi! i haven't written a one shot in forever but it was fun to write!! taking requests , so send me some barry ideas!

warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs, sexual innuendos, mentions of sex

word count: 1.8k

my writing

The heavy humidity in the North Carolina air seems to only be agitating half of the residents on the Cut, which in turn means many grumpy, impatient customers for Barry. Just as he starts to think he's done for the day, as he starts thinking about going inside and watching a movie with his love, Rafe Cameron throws open the door of the trailer and makes his way inside.

"Yo, Barry, what's up, man?" Rafe asks, staring at the ground as he subconsciously wipes his nose.

"Fuck you want, Country Club?" Barry huffs. He glances toward the door, thinking about his girl on the other side.

"Look, man, I just need a little-"

"You say the word credit, Im'a blow your goddamn head off," Barry grunts.

He takes a seat on his couch and picks up a joint, lighting it up and then kicking his feet up on the table as if to wait for further entertainment.

"Nah, nah, no credit," Rafe answers quickly, shaking his head, "Just, maybe, a little exchange."

"Exchange?" Barry snorts, "The only exchange goin' on is drugs for money."

"I'll leave you my bike. Come on, man, I need this. I'll have the money in a couple days, bro, I promise."

"Hell nah," Barry shakes his head.

Before Rafe can speak again, they both turn to look at the door opening out onto the patio. Barry watches as she appears, shorts hugging her hips and tank top practically stuck to her skin.

"Baby?" she calls.

Her eyes meet his and he softens, sitting up to set his joint down in the ash tray on the table.

"Come here, princess," Barry waves her over.

Rafe watches her step past him without a glance, eyes trailing down to her ass before he can realize it. When his girl is close enough, he possessively reaches both of his hands around to her ass, sending a humbling glare to the rich boy. Rafe swallows and looks to the ground, not wanting to watch Barry's girl collapse into his lap.

She straddles him, purposely wiggling her hips into her man as he settles in. He smirks when she wraps her arms around his neck and pecks his lips twice. When she pulls away from his kiss, he frowns.

"Now, baby girl, you know that ain't enough," he mutters, grabbing ahold of her chin and pulling her lips to his once more.

Barry's tongue skims her bottom lip, forcing her to grant him entry to deepen the kiss. Rafe watches with a clenched jaw as Barry squeezes her ass with his hands and moans into her mouth when she starts to grind her hips into his.

After a minute, she pulls away and smiles, looking drunk off of his taste.

"What's taking so long?" she whines, "Told me you'd be inside by now."

"I know, darlin'," Barry nods, smirking at Rafe when he sees the boy watching them.

She looks over her shoulder, eyes meeting Rafe's for the first time. She notes how blue they are, and he feels his cheeks redden under her glance.

She turns back to Barry, pout present on her lips, "Just give him what he wants, baby. Want you to come inside. I made you a nice dinner, and I'm gonna put on-"

"Not in front of him, now," Barry warns, sending a glance to Rafe.

"Look, Barry, we can settle this. I just need a few days," Rafe continues.

Barry hums in amusement, moving his eyes from Rafe to his girl's chest. He leans forward and kisses the exposed skin above both of her breasts, taking extra time to peak down the tank top.

"Whatcha think, princess? You think we can settle it?" he asks her.

She nods, "Give him what he wants, and I'll give you what you want."

Barry grins and bites his bottom lip, shaking his head carefully at her. She's trouble and he's always known it, but nobody softens his heart the way his girl does. Suddenly, the humidity and the annoyance that is Rafe Cameron doesn't seem to be bothering him the way it had been five minutes ago.

"Tell you what," Barry sighs, shifting her hips in his lap and pressing himself against her, feeling her through her little shorts, "Be my good deed for the month. Y'always tell me how good of a man I am, yeah?"

"The best, baby," she smiles, leaning down to kiss him once more.

"How're you always talking me into dumb shit, huh?" he whispers against her lips, then nods his head to his left, "Sit your sexy ass right here'n don't move. Only be a minute."

She nods and collapses from his lap, from his touch. He stands, glancing back at her once more before he starts toward the door. Rafe's jaw falls slightly at the power of the girl, yet doesn't question it for a second. If he had a girl like her asking him for something, he'd have a hell of a hard time saying no himself.

"Hands off," Barry mutters to him as he stalks inside.

Rafe watches as she takes a deep breath and throws her feet up on the table, picking aimlessly at the chipped polish on her fingernails. She doesn't look at him once, doesn't seem to care that he's standing there. Rafe, on the other hand, is shamelessly raking over every inch of her exposed skin.

"You know, he'd kill you if he saw you looking at me," she says, eyes trained on her nails.

"Probably," he agrees, "Thank you."

"For?" she raises a brow, finally flicking her eyes up to his.

"Convincing him."

She chuckles, "Didn't do it for you, pretty boy. Did it for me."

Rafe nods slowly, trying not to think too hard about what that means. He can feel his mouth dry up as he continues to stare, not knowing what to say next. Despite his shaky hands, his raging addiction, he's never understood how Barry landed such a woman.

"Well, I-"

"All right, Country Club. Here's your shit. Get the fuck out," Barry says as he slams the door open, tossing a bag at Rafe.

"Aw, owe you, bro. I'll get you cash in-"

"Two days," Barry interrupts.

He walks over to his girl on the couch and holds his arms out, scooping her up and holding her against him. She wraps her legs around his waist and presses kisses into his neck, feeling him relax under her.

"Yeah," Rafe stutters out, looking away from the sight.

"Dinner's getting cold, baby," she tells Barry, hand running through his dark hair.

"Get the fuck out," Barry says to Rafe, "Gotta tend to my girl. But, Cameron, I'll come find your ass in two days if I don't get my fucking money."

Rafe looks to her, watching as she looks at him. She raises her eyebrows, as if to tell him silently how serious her man is. He just nods, more so to her than to him.

"Okay," Rafe chokes out.

"Go on, now," Barry grunts, pointing to the door.

Rafe, with one last look to Barry's girl, turns and walks out of the patio. Once the door closes behind him, she turns and grins at her lover.

"Finally," she huffs.

"I'm sorry, princess. Dinner smells fucking amazing, by the way."

She smiles, then presses another kiss to his lips, "Made it just for you."

Barry carries her inside, and once they reach the little kitchen, he sets her down. He takes a seat at their table, watching her scurry around the kitchen.

"Beer, baby?" she asks, already sticking her head into their fridge.

"You know me too well."

She smiles, pulling out his favorite. He watches as she struts over, swaying her hips slightly on purpose just to drive him crazy. She sets the bottle down in front of him, giggling when he slaps her ass as a thank you.

He sips on his drink while she gets their plates, putting extra chicken on his. She carries them over quickly, but not before catching his admiring stare.

"What'd I do to deserve such an amazing woman?" he asks when she sets his full plate down in front of him, "Feeds me, loves me, takes care of me. I love you, baby girl."

"I love you, too, Barry," she smiles.

He inhales his food the way he normally does, stopping only to compliment her and tell her how good it is. She just thanks him with a smile, accepting his hand when he reaches across for hers.

She gets up to get him another beer when they finish eating, dropping it at his seat and then picking up both of their empty plates and carrying them to the sink. Barry opens his beer, eyes staring at her ass as he sips. He bites his lip but can't stand it, he has to put his hands on her.

He rises, hurrying up behind her and pressing himself flush against her back. His hands cup her ass, and his lips connect with her neck.

"Baby," she practically moans, "I should clean up."

"Later," he mumbles against her soft, warm skin, "Need to be inside you."

"Barry," she giggles, cheeks flushing a bit at his comment.

"C'mon. My baby girl just made me a fucking great meal, served me, and she looks so good right now. I need you."

"If this pot gets ruined because of the rice-"

"Buy you a new one," he spins her around, pressing her against the counter.

"Y'will?" she asks.

"Buy you whatever you want," he kisses her neck again, moving his lips up to her jaw, "Anything."

She grabs ahold of his face and pulls him up to meet her lips, their kiss quickly becoming needy and lustful.

Her hands tangle in his hair and he slaps her ass, making both of them moan.

"Jump up, now," he says quickly against her mouth.

She obeys immediately, knowing he'll catch her. Her legs hook around his waist, hips automatically bucking against him. He smirks against her lips, already moving her in to their shared bedroom.

He throws her down on their bed and then tugs his shirt off, instantly climbing on top of her.

"See the way Rafe's punk ass was lookin' at you earlier?" he questions, voice laced with jealousy as he kisses down her chest.

"Didn't," she lies.

"Hmm," he hums against her skin, "Really?"

"Too busy looking at you, baby," she chuckles.

Barry lets out a scoff, quick to ensure she knows he doesn't believe her. Nonetheless, he knows he's the only one who gets her like this, and that's what matters to him. He can't even blame Rafe for having a crush on his girl. Unfortunately for Rafe, Barry doesn't share.

Tags: @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @morganwilliams @proactivetypeofperson @abrunettefangirlnerd @absolute-fcking-chaos @dontstopxx @kaatelyyynn @hayley1623 @jordynsharum @dudinhahoff @anonymousobxfan @premixed-margarita @444f4iry @hopebaker @gasolinesavages @outlaw-abby @samcaniglia @marveloussensations @thisisthewayrose @iammirrorball @r0und3bitch @thesimpletype @fashphotolife @notdisneychannel @gillybear17 @solllaris @lemur46 @elizabethrosecresswell @i-is-for-inspiring @sksliz @drewstarkey

*if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist at any time, please send me an ask!

#barry #barry outer banks #rafe x barry #outer banks netflix #outerbanks #outerbanks netflix #outer banks #barry obx

[taechaos]

Web of Lies

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying.

warnings: angst, panic attack, dry humping, the TINIEST bit of fluff

word count: 4.3k

Obstacles are inevitable in relationships; there’s always something that must go wrong. They can come in the form of arguments, disagreements, actions, or people like Taehyung. One physical obstacle that always knows when Jungkook is with you.

A few days after the fight between the two close friends, Taehyung’s nose somewhat healed and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from you as frequently. What’s the point when the people he tried to hide you from found out about his relationship with you anyway? The only reason he doesn’t approach you every time he sees you is because: 1. He doesn’t enjoy being clingy; that would mean he likes being around you all the time which he refuses to admit. 2. You would probably get tired of him and stop loving him. 3. He kissed your friend who always sits next to you outside.

Now that he’s taking most of his opportunities to talk to you, and maybe kiss you, Taehyung is growing restless. Every time Jungkook is with you, so is Taehyung. Some. Fucking. How.

To name one of the busts: when Jungkook was kissing you in the university’s hallway two days ago, Taehyung popped in out of nowhere and shouted, “Get a room, you sluts!” It made for a good laugh between the students, especially when Jungkook ran after him out of the building. 

Another time is when Jungkook was watching you work in the yard and Taehyung joined you two to ask about that “one hot friend of yours”. You ended up telling him about Soyeon and Minnie while Jungkook glared at Taehyung that conveyed a clear message: Don’t. So, he didn’t. It didn’t have anything to do with getting elbowed when you weren’t looking.

It was because that would ruin the fun, and he has a sense of purpose while roaming the entire campus to make his fourth bust of the week. He’s searched the hot and empty spots, but he just can’t find the passionate couple anywhere. If he can’t keep disrupting their displays of affection, how will Jungkook get annoyed enough to spill the truth to you? You deserve that much, and if you still accept him, then Taehyung’s out of the picture.

Why can’t Jungkook see that?

For starters, one of the reasons is Jungkook is distracted and growing very irritated by the heavy stare he feels digging into his skin. Who the fuck is watching him? He thought it would be nice to keep you company in the main campus library by controlling your hand under the table over his clothed erection while you skim through your textbook for a light revision, but a pair of eyes behind a bookshelf won’t stop glaring into his soul through thick frames that he can’t see. 

He blows out a breath and screws his eyes shut. His jaw clenches and you immediately catch on, worriedly asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s fucking watching me and I can’t get off,” he grits. Your cheeks heat and grow crimson when you glance down at your occupied hand, palmed by his bigger one in a tight grip. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, “we can go to my dorm, if you’d like? Whatever you want.” In an act of comfort, you stupidly start caressing his length until he stands up. 

“Gotta confront the fucker.” 

Right when he raises his foot to take a step in the direction that his senses lead him to, Taehyung joins in on the mission. “Who are we confronting?” he asks casually with an arm over Soyeon’s shoulder, who is trying to suppress a grimace at the intervention. Jungkook glances at him and then your friend before sucking his teeth and rolling his eyes.

You grin brightly at the greeting and explain, “Someone's watching him. He’s going to find the stalker.”

“Might’ve been me, oops,” Taehyung raises his brows guiltily before slumping on a wooden chair adjacent to you, looking around the spacious area that makes him feel too loud. When he notices Soyeon still standing, he tells her, “come, sit,” and pats the seat next to him. She does so timidly. “Isn’t it so wonderful—”

“Why are you here?” Jungkook interrupts, but Taehyung continues, “—that we’re forming a friend group of our own? We’re all so familiar with each other.”

“Oh, Soyeon hasn’t met Jungkook yet.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you with a scrunch of his nose. “Sure about that?” Jungkook strides behind his chair and starts massaging his shoulders; a very harsh massage that has him holding back a wince. “Oh, Kook, that’s a bit rough. Tell me, is he like this in bed too?”

You gape at him in surprise, bashful because your lover doesn’t kiss and tell, and he doesn’t look too happy about it either.

“Tae…” Jungkook snarls.

“Well, is he, Soyeon?”

The library’s silence graces your table as everyone falls quiet, if you don’t count Taehyung’s groans at Jungkook’s bruising hold that is. Soyeon’s jaw drops and her eyes widen at the sudden switch in your gaze, searching for answers from her. “That’s not funny, Taehyung,” she breaks the silence with her blunt statement.

“Don’t mind him, baby, he has brain damage,” Jungkook spits and brings a hand up to Taehyung’s hair to yank it back. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he whispers in his ear.

Your features begin to soften from its hard expression until Taehyung smiles wickedly at you. “Oh yeah, it wasn’t sex, was it? It was a tongue battle-” His voice cuts off the moment Jungkook starts choking him with his elbow, and his gags fall on deaf ears. Soyeon tries to push him off, but you’re just blank because Jungkook isn’t denying it; it was as if he was expecting it, trying to stop him all along. 

The sudden interest in your friend, the constant interruptions, the hits…

“Soyeon?” you call quietly with welling up tears. “Did you kiss him?”

Your best friend doesn’t lie, and apparently neither does Taehyung. Does Jungkook lie? You’re conflicted between living in bliss, ignoring the dying man in front of you because your boyfriend might have kissed Soyeon, and facing reality by asking the hard questions.

Her hands are still tugging on his shirt to save Taehyung, but her persistence weakens when she looks at you: guilty and… exposed? “I didn’t know it was him,” she confesses. It is indirect, and doesn’t reveal much except that she kissed the one man she wasn’t supposed to. 

“When?”

“The party,” Taehyung wheezes as he struggles against Jungkook’s arm, his nails drawing blood on his skin. His face is red from the lack of oxygen but he isn’t worried about dying.

“Oh, he put you up to this, didn’t he?” Jungkook speaks through clenched teeth to Soyeon. “They’re setting me up, and who the fuck is watching me?!” 

You stand up slowly and close your textbook with a soft thud, packing your materials so graciously. Your hands are shaking, but the tears blurring your vision don’t matter to you. Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. You sling your bag over your shoulder and trudge to the exit, counting your steps to calm down. You ignore Jungkook asking you where you’re going, Taehyung gasping for breath, and Soyeon telling him to leave you alone. It’s all muffled and you’re too sad to care.

It’s a case of he said she said, but your heart is siding with your friends with how painfully it pounds against your chest. Your trust in Jungkook couldn’t have been that fragile, could it? Why did it break with one sentence? 

Heavy footfalls follow you beyond the exit, but you’re too distracted by trying to move your legs steadily to notice. It isn’t important enough to distract you from someone calling your name though, or the light weight of a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hm?” you say without looking up, frozen in your steps.

“A-Are you okay?” A smooth voice asks.

“I’m a bit sad,” your voice cracks and wavers from holding back a meltdown, “hurt.” You want to recognize the blurred image of the man standing next to you, so you blink and a tear sheds from each eye. “I told you to never talk to me again, Jimin.” You feel overwhelmed, and yet the memory of the blackmail has little impact on your mess of emotions, but it doesn't help you feel better either.

“Sorry,” he breathes, “I still don’t understand why, but you can do the talking for me. Wh-what happened?”

“Why do you ask? So you can use that against me too?” you scoff through the lump in your throat. Confusion washes his soft features, so you add, “maybe another handjob for it?” You shrug off his hand and continue your walk of shame. 

“I-I’ve never used anything against you, what are you talking about?” He’s chasing after you and it’s a bit of help in swaying your thoughts in a different direction, and your emotions towards anger and disbelief instead.

“Does a video ring a bell? The one you threatened to leak if I didn’t touch your…” You groan to yourself and quicken your pace towards your dorm. Maybe you could mope comfortably in there without the annoying presence of an arch enemy, who is feeding you more lies than you’re capable of consuming in one day. 

“What? I never— Listen, I deleted that video the second I received it. Whoever told you that was lying, please!”

It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying. His love was a lie too, apparently. Maybe the Jungkook you know is just one big fat lie who can’t seem to tell you the truth in any moment you’ve been with him. How many times do you need to hear from others and yourself that Jungkook is lying?

“I know,” you whimper and run off.

Once Taehyung catches his breath after coughing for a minute straight with a fresh bruise blossoming on his neck, he interrupts the hushed argument between Jungkook and Soyeon by asking, “Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know, but you’re going straight to hell once I fucking kill you for good,” Jungkook fumes with flushed cheeks. 

“If you die by murder, you go straight to Heaven. How do you not know this?” His voice is low from the assault and his throat aches, but he still attempts to lighten the mood. 

“I swear to fucking God, Taehyung—” Jungkook stops his threat when he sees Soyeon sneakily walking away. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Air,” Soyeon vaguely answers.

“Bullshit.” Jungkook tries to go after her, wanting to be the first to find your dorm so she doesn't say more about that night, but Taehyung holds onto his wrist to stop him. 

“She needs time—”

“Fuck off.”

When Jungkook begins to walk off after yanking off his hand, Taehyung immediately searches around the room and takes out a pen from a cup on the reception desk before jumping Jungkook from behind just as he was about to leave. They struggle against each other and start rolling around, but Taehyung is driven by adrenaline as he grounds himself on top of him. He holds him down with his legs and uncaps the pen to start writing on his forehead.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Everyone in the library peeks at the commotion due to Jungkook’s loud yell, but neither of them pay mind as he tries to move away from the pen.

“See if she takes you seriously with dick written on your forehead,” Taehyung chuckles before sprinting off with him hot on his tail. Jungkook is stronger, but Taehyung is much faster as he loses him pretty quickly by hiding in an occupied lecture hall. The professor looks at him questioningly but he thinks fast and breathlessly asks the students, “Is Jeon Jungkook here? The headmaster is looking for him.” Some people search for him, but when no one makes a peep, he escapes the room and Jungkook’s wrath.

Now to go to your dorm before Jungkook scrubs off the ink…

“I didn’t know his name,” Soyeon murmurs while fidgeting with her fingers. When she came in the room, you were muffling your sobs with your pillow and all she saw was your jerking shoulders. She tried to comfort you, to hug you, but you weren’t exactly being friendly, and the setting is pretty much the same except she’s sitting on your bed while you still cry. “I asked people what he looked like, but it was just a description of every guy in the room. He wasn’t around for them to point at, and so I thought maybe he didn’t come. Then this guy kisses me on this couch, feels guilty about it, and tells me his name. I-I didn’t know it was Jungkook. He left for you anyway…”

Her attempt at consolation is fruitless because it only makes you cry harder. She rubs your back soothingly before standing up. “I’ll check up on you later. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” You nod against your stained pillow. 

The moment she opens the door, Taehyung’s fist misses her head by an inch. “Oops,” he says before gently pushing her aside by her shoulder and entering. His eyes fall on your fetal position first thing and he pouts at you. “Aw, baby—”

“She doesn’t want to talk right now.”

“I’m good company,” he dismisses her with a flick of his wrist, “you can go.”

She rolls her eyes before shutting the door, and it’s only you and him now. Your hiccups fill the room as he sadly watches you, a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. “I tried to tell you. Well, I tried to get him to tell you.”

“Y-You said,” you snivel against the sheet, “th-that he was whipped for me.”

I said that to get you to open up. Even in his head it sounds cruel, so he rethinks his response with a grimace. “Jungkook told me he liked you.” Maybe shifting the blame wasn’t exactly much better, especially since he told him that after the claim, but you have enough on your plate.

“H-He told me he loved me,” you hiccup, releasing your death grip on the poor pillow. It’s a mask rather than a silencer now. Taehyung widens his eyes to himself and purses his lips. He takes Soyeon’s former seat and turns you on your back. His heart sinks a little when he sees your face: red nose, heavy lids, bloodshot eyes and quivering lips with messy hair. You look really pretty to him right now. “He lies so much. H-He even made me give Jimin a handjob.”

“Made you?” he repeats with his thumb drawing circular patterns on your collarbone. 

You nod. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it. It was horrible.”

His brows furrow at your tone. “That’s so fucked up... Man, you need to avoid him.”

“Jimin?”

“Jungkook. That’s too twisted, even for him. You’re an angel…” his palm reaches for your cheek and his thumb continues its soothing motions. “You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” you mouth and fresh tears brim as you try to swallow. It feels like you’re sick all over again, except there’s no misunderstanding to clear this time. He wipes a stray teardrop and smiles down at you; it’s a relaxing gesture. You close your eyes and hold onto his wrist, snuggling into his warm hand.

“I sound really cheesy, don’t I?” he chuckles. “Can’t lie, wish I had someone call me an angel after I caught my ex cheating on me.”

An involuntary giggle erupts from your mouth at his joke. “You’re an angel, Taehyung. An angel in disguise.” You peek at him before fluttering your eyes shut again. A pursed smile graces his lips, and he’s convinced he isn’t interested in you romantically, that it was just an invisible force drawing him closer to you, that he wasn’t the one aiming for your lips until a pound on the door resounds in the room.

You flinch away from his hand and he pulls back instantly; both of your heads shoot to the source of the noise. 

“Open up!” Jungkook yells and continues fisting the door. “Open the fucking door!” Taehyung holds a finger against his lips, signalling you to stay silent until he leaves. “I want to talk. Open the door… please.” Neither of you say anything.

“Fine,” he agrees, “don’t talk. I’ll talk, but at least give me a sign that you’re here.” Before Taehyung can stop you, you rush to the door and knock once. You hear him slide down the door, presumably leaning his back against it and sitting on the floor. “Okay. I’m sor— They were lying—” you slam your fist against the door in denial. “Okay! But they weren’t telling the whole truth back there. I was um… on drugs. I was really fucking high, okay?”

“Yet your high-self still managed to yell at me! Clearly you weren’t high out of your mind,” you snap menacingly. He flinches at your sudden shut-down; he’s never heard you yell at him before, nor has he ever been the victim of your anger. It makes his heart drop.

“That was like, three hours after I got high! I was practically sober, plus, you weren’t talking to me that day!”

“I had lost my voice! I didn’t want you to get sick—"

“I DIDN’T FUCKING KNOW THAT!” 

He gulps at your silence and inhales a deep breath to calm down. He hears you sniffle on the other side. “I-I didn’t know that. You wouldn’t kiss me, wouldn’t talk to me, and I didn’t know why. I thought you stopped loving me and… that really upset me.” He sighs to himself because he’s never opened up so honestly and it’s difficult, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. It just feels so embarrassing.

Taehyung opens the window of your dorm and climbs out. You don’t see or hear it happen, too invested in your argument to even remember his existence. “Do you remember what I told you the night we did it for the first time?”

His face scrunches as he tries to replay the events beside the sex. The corner of his lip tugs upwards when he recalls you calling him a slut, but he’s still clueless as to why you’re bringing it up. You don’t leave him in the dark for long. “I told you I wouldn’t forgive you a second time.” He gnaws on his lip as his palms feel clammy with nervous sweat. 

“W-We weren’t dating then,” he tries to justify. “I didn’t need forgiveness then. You’re so unfair!” He stands up and knocks with his fist again. “Let’s talk it out face to face, I’ll explain everything. You’re putting me at a disadvantage! Don’t you want clarity? Don’t you want this to work out?!” He starts chanting your name when you don’t answer. “I will break down this fucking door if you don’t open it,” he doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he usually does when threatening; he sounds more like he’s a second away from breaking down himself. “No, no… please. I-I’ll kiss another girl if you break up with me! You don’t want that, right? So just open the door.” 

His tough façade crumbles the longer you ignore him, and he can’t believe the heavy weight he feels all over his body wants to leave in the form of tears. It stings in his eyes but he doesn’t dare let them fall. “You’re so fucking cruel!” He twists the door handle violently; desperately. A dry sob escapes him as he kicks the door one last time. “Oh God, oh God…” he tries to breathe but it doesn’t enter his lungs. It’s like being choked with a noose as he gasps and a tear runs down his cheek. His wheezes become so loud that you start hearing them and grow concerned.

You consider the possibility that it’s one of his tactics, trying to manipulate you, but you open the door anyway. It’s a slight crack and you barely get a look at him before he pushes it open completely and forces his way in. He sits on your bed and his shoulders hunch, breaths still shallow. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t like her, never did, I only— I was mad, and I couldn’t go through with it, and I’ve never shown you affection b-because I’ve only ever received it from you—” you hush his rambling with a hug, but he continues with his head against your stomach anyway, “I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m a fucking mess and I understand why you wouldn’t want to be with me, but please don’t leave me. I’ll do my homework, I’ll stop being mean, I won’t even talk if you don’t want me to, but please don’t stop talking to me.”

“Jungkook…” you trail in shock. “I’m here. Take a deep breath.” When he tries, it’s so shaky that it makes you tear up for the umpteenth time. You’re a mess with him. “In and out, love, in and out.” You would do it with him like an instructor, but it’s not possible when he’s squeezing your waist so tightly. It takes a few minutes for him to relax his grip and he looks up at you pitifully. “It’s okay,” you assure and pet his hair, “you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most,” he exhales. “I mean… I realized that night, that I only want to be with…”

“I get it,” you whisper to comfort him, knowing he has struggles with expressing himself, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to get it off his chest, and he quietly tells you, “I kissed another girl when I wanted to make you jealous, and then another to forget. I don’t want to do that, I mean I only want to kiss… you.”

You initiate it first by leaning down to peck his lips, and you don’t pull away too far. You peck him again, and then start kissing him. He’s never been this slow with you before, but the panic attack must have drained him. It’s the way that he doesn’t immediately turn it heated with the intent of taking it to the third base that warms your heart. He’s hesitant and taking his time, mindful of your reactions because you’re in control for once. You’re aware of how vulnerable he is being with you, and he conveys that with the gentle press of his lips. 

He whimpers into the kiss, and it’s so quiet and mournful that you lean back but he chases after you. He doesn’t want to stop like you’d assumed, so you place your knees on either side of him and hover over his thighs. Even his hands are hesitant as he lightly sits you down on his lap by pulling your waist. You smile against him and with his submission, you swipe your tongue across his lip. He opens for you. You roll your tongue around his, and he eventually begins to suck on yours. There’s a pit in your stomach that confuses you; is it arousal? Flattery? You feel so special because you know he hasn’t been like this with anyone else; so powerless and passive.

It’s passionate. You inch your body a little closer to him and he grunts when you brush against his crotch before settling down. This isn’t about sexual needs, and you don’t treat it as such but your body has a mind of its own with its constant shuffling that turns him on. He doesn’t want to feel that way, but his hips have a subtle way of thrusting beneath you. His hums rumble and you kiss him harder, losing all your senses except for the warmth of his skin. You don’t notice him controlling the movement of your hips because he’s taking it slow, and you don’t need to know why he’s quietly moaning into you.

At least no one’s watching him now. 

You pull back in surprise when he groans loudly, and you know he’s back to himself as his actions grow rough. You’re practically jumping when he grinds on you with his spit all over your mouth because of his explorative tongue. From past experience, you’ve figured out that Jungkook is more honest when he’s in the heat of the moment, so you inquire against his lips, “Why did you lie to me about Jimin?”

“That fucking freak,” he growls, “I needed a reason to get you to hate him. He didn’t stop you when it happened, did he?” 

Still manipulative. “Will you do the same with Taehyung?”

“No, I,” his thrusts slow down, “I’m gonna, err…” He looks at you for help.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and talk things out with him, right?”

“Right,” he breathes, “talk.” He slams his lips against yours again, and it’s not long before he sighs at his climax with your cooperation. There’s a small patch growing on his pants through his underwear, and he cusses when he notices it. He pecks you one last time before hugging you and laying on the bed, cuddling you like a blanket. “Do you forgive me?” 

You rest your head on his chest and feel his pulse to contemplate. He brings a hand up to your hair and starts running his fingers through it, unbothered by your lack of answer. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Do you…” he clears his throat, “do you maybe want to have dinner with me?”

“Like a date?” you tease with a grin.

“Yes.”

“There’s my answer,” you lift your head to wink up at him. “But if you test me again, I’ll break your heart just as you did mine. Don’t worry though,” you whisper, “I’ll never leave you.”

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