#and let's just not talk about how many of my predictions were off the mark completely lmao

[7ndipity]

Them With Pregnant S/o HCs

Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Reader

Summary: How they would look after their S/o during pregnancy and interact with the baby bump.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to @lovelyxoxosworld for this request! Everybody seems to have babies on the brain lately, idk what’s going on, lol. I did include a few points about earlier months just for the sake of covering all the bases, but I tried to keep the focus on the later months like you asked.

Masterlist

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Taehyung:

When the two of you found out you were expecting, he was beyond excited and emotional. He’d always dreamt of having a family of his own, so the fact that it was finally happening, and with you, meant the world to him.

He would talk to them all the time. As soon as he comes home, he kisses you and asks how your day was, and then kneels down to kiss your belly and ask them the same thing.

He would play question games with your belly, like one kick for yes, two kicks for no. He’d probably try to get them to side with him during arguments.

Likes to just hold/hug you from behind and trace patterns over your bump.

You tend to fall asleep most nights talking about names or trying to guess what their personality will be like.

“We’re not naming them after Jimin.” “Why not?” “The rest of your members will be pissed.” “We can name the next ones after them.” “THE NEXT ONES?!”

He really dedicates himself to studying your pregnancy books and trying to be as educated as possible about the whole process.

As your belly gets bigger, he tries to help and take over as many household tasks as possible, reminding you every time you try to argue with him about smth that you’re growing A HUMAN?! You’re busy enough!

He loves getting to dote on you; helping you apply cream to your belly for stretch marks, giving you back rubs to ease any aches and pains, he’ll even paint your toenails for you if you want!

He takes so many photos of you as the pregnancy progresses, wanting to immortalize as much of this time as possible.

Jungkook:

When he found out that you were pregnant, he was so beside himself with happiness that he couldn’t sit still. He kept bouncing/pacing around the room, coming over at regular intervals to hug and kiss you and your tummy, and then back to pacing.

Reads so many pregnancy books he basically becomes a walking encyclopedia for a couple months.

When he finds out they can hear in there, he talks to them constantly, including them in your conversations and singing to them before bed.

He cried a little bit the first time he felt the baby kick, bc it just made everything a lot more real. Like, he knew they were there, but getting to actually feel them and interact with them was a whole different thing.

As your belly gets bigger, and daily tasks get more difficult to do, he becomes your full-time assistant, doing everything and anything he can to help out.

Refuses to let you do anything remotely straining in fear of you hurting yourself. Like, he gets anxious about you even carrying your own bag half the time.

Loves doing that thing where he holds/supports your belly to take the weight off your back for a few minutes so you can rest a little bit.

Will one hundred percent try any weird food cravings you have, just to know and to see if he can start predicting what the next ones will be.

Is constantly coming up with new name ideas and desperately wants to be the one to find THE name. “Heads: you win, Tails: I get to pick the baby’s name.”

Probably falls asleep with a hand resting on your belly most nights.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan

#taehyung headcanons #taehyung scenarios #taehyung reaction #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x reader #jungkook headcanons #jungkook scenarios #jungkook reaction #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts headcanons #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts reaction #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts requests #7ndipity

[yourmomxx]

a pearl ⋆ .ೃ ࿔ *

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: There were many things in life that Dean Winchester learned to regret. Taking the mark of Cain in order to kill Abbadon and save the world had not been one of them. Until everything just gets way too much for him to handle, and you are the one that has to burn in the crossfire.

Warnings: canon violence, blood, angst, spoilers but not really, moc!dean, swearing so if you’re the CW look away

Word Count: 2.6k

Flashbacks are written in italics

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGAUGE

━━━ ❝ Iᴛ’s ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I fᴇʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀ ❞ ━━━

Regret is a funny thing, somehow. At least I think so.

When you do something terrible, you can feel regret or remorse. So much, you get overwhelmed, forget to show it. So much you might start treating the people around you different.

“Sam?” Dean urged through the phone in a pressed voice. His breathing was ragged when he talked. “Sammy please, I need you to come here quick, something … something happened!”

“Dean it’s alright, calm down, where are you?” Immediately, Sam slapped his laptop closed.

Over the phone, he heard his brother stifle a sob. “I don’t … I don’t know Sammy, just please hurry, I-” His voice broke. “I think I fucked up, Sam, big time.”

“It’s alright Dean, just hang in there, I’ll come and get you.”

“Thanks.” Dean’s voice was small as he answered.

You can feel regret and decide that the outcome of the situation was worth it, and do it again.

When Sam arrived at the old warehouse and saw Dean, kneeling on the floor and covered in blood, he was worried.

You can feel regret, ask for redemption and forgiveness, but don’t get it.

As he let his gaze wander and it fell upon you, laying limb in Dean’s bloody arms, he was worried sick.

And even if you do get forgiven, who is to say that the guilt will stop haunting you?

“The doctors took her into surgery.” Sam carefully looked at his older brother, whose hands and shirt were still stained with your dried blood. “They said that she might not make it.”

“She will make it,” Dean said. The doctors were wrong, they are always wrong. They would be wrong this time, too.

Regret is buried deep in Dean Winchester. Rooted, even. He regrets many things. He was forgiven, then he was not, he pushed away the people around him in trying to not repeat his last mistakes, sometimes succeeded, sometimes he didn’t.

There were many things he felt guilty for. Too many, if you asked his brother Sam.

“What exactly happened in there, Dean?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Dean said. But that was a lie, because he did.

But he didn’t want to admit what he had done. Why he had done it. It turned his stomach around. There was a reason why Dean hadn’t looked Sam in the eye since he arrived.

He was sitting in your room again.

He was feeling regret about what happened. Again. He was doing that a lot, too, lately.

After the … incident, he mostly avoided talking to you. That had been just a few days ago.

He had even avoided seeing you since you returned to the Bunker, unless absolutely necessary.

Because just as he predicted, the doctors had turned out to be wrong: you had actually made it. After a light coma and a surgery, but you had made it.

When the nurse had told them you were free to go, Dean had been the one to bring you home. Still wrapped in the white clinical sheets and clothing that the nurses had given you, but he had brought you home.

So no, he hadn’t talked to you in days. Not seen you either, for that matter. Just cut you off like that.

And, to his genuine surprise, you had let him.

Normally, you would try everything in your power to talk to him, talk him out of his drowning thoughts, convince him that what had happened wasn’t his fault.

But not this time.

And that only substantiated his feeling that you truly hated him this time. Weren’t able to forgive him. And how could he blame you? He couldn’t even forgive himself.

But he missed you and it tore at him.

He missed the way that you would hold him when he ever so rarely let himself cry, and he missed the way your voice would whisper sweet words of reassurance in his ear in a low tone.

He missed your fingers gently scarding through his hair, and at his scalp, to soothe him.

He missed you humming the low tunes of some made-up song in the late evening, when you were laying in each other’s arms, right before falling asleep.

And he missed dancing with you. Just putting on whatever vinyl it was you could find in his room and then swaying to the sound of the music, wrapped around each other and being at peace, even if it was just for a few minutes.

He missed you so much.

On the shelf, leaned against the wall, the TV played some cheesy 80’s romance movie. It was the late night program.

Dean was tuning it out. He had stopped listening a long while ago, anyway.

No, his mind was playing a movie on its own. One that was specially designed for Dean Winchester. Written by Dean Winchester, starring Dean Winchester - and Y/N Y/L/N.

A tragic love story, with drama, hurt, betrayal, forgiveness.

In his mind, Dean could still feel the heavy weight of the blade resting in the palm of his hand. It hadn’t felt like this in the warehouse - or had it? He wasn’t sure.

Who was he lying to, it had felt light. Perfectly shaped for him, and him only. In that moment, everything had felt perfectly shaped.

It took the sound of the weapon driving through your skin and into your organs, that made him realize that nothing was perfect. Or carved out for him, that the blade wasn’t light but actually weighed too much to carry, that’s why he let it fall out of his hand and clatter to the ground, that’s why he rushed to your hurt body on the floor -

“Hey.”

Dean’s head shot up at the sound of your voice clear next to him, fast enough to probably break his neck.

He threw a quick glance at the door, then you again. “Hey,” he said back.

You stood awkwardly a few steps next to the bed, fumbling your fingers and trying to hold his gaze.

The only sound was the program still playing on the television and Dean decided that he should perhaps turn it off if he hoped for a conversation to start.

While he was fumbling for the remote, you turned your attention to the movie playing on the screen.

“Didn’t know you were a fan of Sixteen Candles,” you said, and so you were the first to talk.

“I’m not.” He found the remote, and pressed the small red button to turn off the TV.

You put your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and slowly whipped back and forth on your feet.

Dean’s thoughts were short circuiting and he felt his heartbeat fasten. He tried to not look into your direction too much, and his eyes flickered back and forth between the many items in his room.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he realized that you had moved to sit down on the bed next to him. Funny, he hadn’t even felt the mattress dip.

Dean straightened his back and moved his knees closer together, to minimalize every possibility of you guys accidentally touching each other.

He hated that, so did you. But neither did anything to change it.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, indicating that you were meaning to start a conversation, but somehow, you said nothing. Just sat there, looking at him, brows furrowed in concern.

Every once in a while, your gaze would flicker around his room, unsure of what to do, and eventually land back on him again.

“We should probably talk.”

“About what?” Dean knew the words were nonsense as soon as they left his mouth. Of course he knew about what, but part of him didn’t want to realize that you were finally here for it.

“About what happened.” Your voice was strong as you said it. He admired you for it.

Tears were burning in his eyes, and God, how he hated himself for it, because he had cried enough that day.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out. Your demeanor didn’t change.

“About what?” It was your turn to ask, your voice soft and silk and catching his fall. Dean almost laughed at you.

“What I did to you,” he sniffled, and shit, when did the tears start actually falling? He wiped them away aggressively. This is not at all how he figured this would go.

“Dean.” The feather light touch of your fingers on his naked skin made him turn. Goosebumps started rising where you touched him, your hand was so cold.

“This wasn’t your fault.” Now he was laughing. Bitter, biting and short, but it was a laugh. Unbelieving.

“Right. I was just the one that drove the Blade through your organs.”

You didn’t even flinch at his wording. Or the dark glare that followed after. Your eyes were so soft, and adoring, eyebrows scrunched together, and Dean knew he had never seen something as beautiful as the woman before him.

When you reached out to rest a hand on his cheek, he found himself leaning into your touch. Your fingers were still cold.

“Dean,” your voice barely above a whisper, and when had he closed his eyes?

“I know that wasn’t you. You were controlled by something so purely evil, that it was eating you up. You had no control over the things that you did. Look at me.”

Dean shifted his gaze. “I know you would never hurt me.”

And you said it with such force, and certainty, that Dean felt it practically piercing through him. His shoulders slumped, a hard breath left his mouth, and before he could register what happened, he was slumped against you, breathing in your warm scent of woods and perfume, and wrapped his arms around your torso to hold onto you for dear life.

He noticed your hands carefully scarding through his hair, and thought, that this was all he had been dreaming of for the past few days.

He loved you so much.

Minutes felt like hours, and those felt like seconds, as the two of you held each other, bathing in the other’s presence, warmth, comfort.

A pathetic whine almost left Dean’s throat as protest when you carefully pushed him off you, but he held it back.

He watched as you stood up, smooth and elegant, and walked over to a different corner of his room. Your steps were eaten by the carpeted floor.

Dean saw you take a vinyl from the shelf and carefully pull it out of the cover, laying it on the record player.

A crackling sound was the first thing to be heard, before the needle reached the engraved lines.

Then, the first tunes of Kitty Kallen’s It’s been a long long time sounded through the room.

You took a few steps closer to him, hips swaying lightly to the tune. Your arms were stretched out in an invitation, and at the sight of your joyous grin, Dean couldn’t do anything else than smile back.

He knew if it came to it, you could make entire armies fall knee to that smile.

He took your invitation to join you gladly. Your skin didn’t feel as cold against his anymore, though that could be only because his hands were warm.

The smile didn’t leave both of your lips as you dragged him closer.

And though he wasn’t inhaling, to Dean this felt like the first breath he had taken in days. Your lips were soft against his, and he felt feverish, in the best possible way one could do.

It was soft, and loving, and he adored it.

As you pulled away from him, you carefully nestled your head under his chin, resting right on top of his chest.

Absentmindedly, Dean closed his eyes, let the tunes of the song wash over him, and lazily swayed side to side with you in his arms. He was sure you could hear his heartbeat under his shirt. A heart that beat only for your love.

This was what his hands had been shaped to do, since the dawn of time. Not for the blood, or the murder, or the irrationality. No, for this right here, holding you close to him, his head on top of your hair and bodies pressed against each other as if it was the last time he would ever see you.

“Kiss me once,” you drew your head back from his chest, a mischievous glint in your eye, “Then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again.”

Dean smirked and raised his eyebrows. “You’re unreal.”

“I know.” You grinned and pressed a chaste kiss on his pink lips.

When you looked back at Dean, a soft grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“What are you smiling about?” You asked him reproachfully, but your playful undertones gave you away.

“I just love hearing you talk,” he admitted.

Then why did you kill her for it?

“Is that so?” you asked him teasingly.

I didn’t.

“Yes.”

Your smile was beaming up at him and filling him with the warmth of a million suns, and he suddenly didn’t know how he could believe that you would ever be able to hate him.

He pressed a kiss to your hairline, a kiss that said more than his words possibly could, and with a comfortable sigh, you snuggled into his chest and closed your eyes.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and never wanting to let you go.

He would never let you go.

—

The sound of the slow song carried through the hallways, a faint melody like the whispering breeze of a wind.

Sam Winchester heard its soothing tune from where he was standing in the library, next to him a black haired man in a trenchcoat, an angel, Castiel.

The pair was looking at the massive wooden table that the hunter and his brother often used to keep their research. Today, that table was empty, empty of books and laptops that was.

A bundle was laid on it, wrapped in white linen and laced up with split thread. Like a macabre package.

Sam felt sick, staring at the covered, dead body of another fallen friend. A sister to him. And to Dean … to Dean a lover. A rock. A spark of good in his sea of bad.

Sam still didn’t know what exactly had happened in the warehouse that night. All he knew was that Dean had his blood on your hands, in the literal sense of the word, and that his eyes had held a vacant expression.

He remembered the moment the doctor’s informed him about your death and how he had grieved you, and how he told Dean, but how it didn’t seem to get through to him.

He remembered Dean carrying your body out of the hospital, and retiring to his room the moment they had reached the bunker, and how he hadn’t come out since.

We need to bury her, Sam, Cas had said. It can’t go on like this.

Sam’s answer had always been the same. Let’s just give him more time.

But Sam knew that Castiel was right, there was no use to dragging this out any longer, and still, he hesitated.

No, he wouldn’t hold the funeral without Dean. And Dean was nowhere ready to attend a funeral.

“We should tell him,” said Cas. His gaze was fixed on the white bundle lying on the table.

Sam slowly nodded. “Yeah, we should.”

But neither of them moved an inch, not even as they heard Dean’s soft mumbles out of his room, while the slow record in the next room gently came to a harmonic end.

━━━━━━ ❝ ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ ɪᴛ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ❞ ━━━━━━

#dean winchester #supernatural #jensen ackles #sam winchester #jared padalecki #castiel #misha collins #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #cw supernatural #supernatural au #supernatural imagine #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #castiel imagine #castiel x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural fic #Spotify #mitski #a pearl by mitski #yourmomxx

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

TTPD Track Speculation/Prediction: @wavesoutbeingtossed Edition

Against my better judgment, I’m putting down my predictions before I am proven completely wrong on April 19.

on the other hand I did correctly attribute all of the 1989 TV vault track teaser lyrics to their songs before it was released so maybe I’m just that good jk.

I’m putting everything under a cut because it’s long and mostly just shooting the shit but it’s a long weekend so what the heck!

I started writing this the night the album was announced at the Grammys in February, so obviously things may have evolved in the meantime. It will be very interesting to see just how wrong I am!

Here be speculation, musings, jokes and more! Enter at your own risk!

SOUND:

I honestly have NO CLUE. I’ve said many, many times that I would be absolutely gagged for an Americana-folk type sound like Carolina/Safe and Sound/some of her acoustic performances on tour. I don’t really expect TTPD to sound quite that stripped back, though. (Prove me wrong, Taylor!)

I am kind of feeling pop-rock-y though, à la WCS, TTDS, based on absolutely nothing but that is also a genre/sound I love that I am begging to hear more on albums.

Completely off the wall guess: Something more jazzy-big band-y, based on nothing but her styling in recent months on the red carpet that harkens back to golden age of Hollywood vibes (especially the Grammys), the inclusion of Clara Bow (renowned flapper girl) on the track list, and the way she keeps talking about being grateful fans accept her bending and switching genres over the years and support her when she does “weird” things.

FORMAT (?)

OK this is just me spitballing, but I said awhile back that I am just getting vibes that there may be, like, a story within a story with this. As in, using some fictional settings as an allegory for the story about herself. The example I used then was The Lumineers, and how they wrote their album III about three generations of a fictional family dealing with addiction, which was an allegory for the lead singer’s own family’s experience with it (without directly calling out the family member in question at the time). There were characters in the album, but many of the songs were sung from an “I”/“you” perspective. I may not be explaining myself well, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are “fictional” stories in that they’re sung about characters (e.g. Clara Bow?), but it will be obvious to fans that she’s using the characters to speak about herself and her experiences. I’m just getting big “storytelling” energy from the hints. Which means I’m totally wrong!!!! Don’t listen to me!!! (I do think there will be some shades of this somehow, though.)

TRACK LIST SPECULATION

Fortnight: Think you are all on the money about it being the time between the start of tour and when Joever happened for good. Sort of a “two years of uncertainty coming to a head in two weeks” thing. Spending two weeks agonizing over what to do. Two weeks for your whole life to blow up. Finally being removed from the situation and grasping onto your dreams that have been on hold for years and realizing your mind’s made up because you won’t give this part of you up even if it means letting go of what you thought your future held. But another thing I’ve thought of: some common wisdom claims it takes two weeks for a new routine to become a habit, so… outside chance it’s like, two weeks go by and you’re finally used to/accepted whatever it is you’re trying to kick? Also had a thought that there could be many two-week periods that can mark your life and give pause. 

The Tortured Poets Department: No idea really lol. For some reason I feel like this is going to be a little more experimental, “laying the groundwork for the defense” type of vibe, kinda like Mastermind, or using the investigative/academic metaphor to delve into it like, Mad Woman or Vigilante Shit. (Or: it could be super petty roasting the infamous group chat lol. In all seriousness though I would doubt that because I feel like this album is very much about Her… unless said group chat was so insufferable she needs to blast it on main.)

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys: I saw some talk on my dash about this giving renegade themes (you fire off missiles because you hate yourself but don’t you know you’re demolishing me), and I totally thought the same thing. Also those of you who pointed out the parallels to Cardigan are geniuses (when I was an old cardigan under someone’s bed you put me on and said I was your favorite). Again kinda think there might be some more metaphor in this but guessing it may be along the lines of “he’s only doing this because he knows I won’t leave” themes? It instantly gives dark and uneasy. It gives, the people you love are the ones you hurt the most. All signs point to Not Good.

(Or this is about Benji destroying his spin toys or is that just my cat that does that.)

Down Bad: Someone said (on Jaime’s blog I think*) that this is giving False God but icky and I can TOTALLY see that. (Then again I’ve always found False God sad in the sense that it’s like, “even when we fight so bad we can’t communicate we still have the sex holding us together.”) But, Taylor does like to take sayings with common meanings and twist them on their heads, so I also wouldn’t be surprised if “Down Bad,” isn’t referring to being down as in being horny for someone, but being down as in, feeling devastated/hopeless. (Or, even worse, mean both at the same time. 😵‍💫)

(*I wrote this post in February after the announcement, I don’t have a clue when any of this was said anymore sorry)

So Long, London: like a lot of people, I feel like this is her goodbye to the life they had and more importantly/poignantly, the dreams she had of their future. (I don’t know but, “remember looking at this room we loved cause of the light, now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it’s time” just feels like it’d be part of this story.) So because I’ve said that, watch it be an excoriation of London Boy lol. (You know I’m mad at a London Boy / who just really won’t leave Camden / Market in the afternoon / he hasn’t seen my American smile / in two months cause he won’t come to see me / when I have a show to do…) Feel like it’s going to gut us. BUT, also wonder if this is her “I’m getting the fuck out of dodge ROCK FLAG AND EAGLE” anthem haha. (Or: she ran away to London to escape the Bad Stuff but then got stuck in another kind of Bad Stuff living there for so long…)

But Daddy I Love Him: Pretty obviously the Little Mermaid reference. Very curious if the actual quote is in the song, or if it’s just named that to set the scene but the song instead is an expounding on the theme of giving up her voice for the sake of the relationship like Ariel. Also wonder if this is an overtly diaristic song or if she is going to use characters/figures/fiction to expand on the theme subtly, a little like Maisie Peters’ History of Man or Florence & The Machine’s Cassandra or even more pointedly like her own Last Great American Dynasty or The Lucky One. I do assume the overarching theme is going to be the push-pull between keeping her love and giving up things that are important to her to make that love work.  (Watch this be about her arguing with her father about marrying *** lol.)

The theme of giving up your voice/what you hold dear for love is so loaded, and has some parallels to Clara Bow’s story, which is also on the track list so… Lots to chew on I’m sure.

Fresh Out The Slammer: Totally think the reference to her locking herself up for years at home because she was scared in the Time POTY interview is a likely link to this. Feeling free after the weight of this decision is off her shoulders, yet the sheer terror at now being on her own and rebuilding her future. It could be uplifting but I could also see it being like pure chaos. BUT, a thought I had earlier is that, if this is a song that was written pre-Joever, maybe it’s about the aftermath of a rough patch. Like, we just got our get out of jail free cards, we made it through the other side of this Big Thing that almost ended us (e.g. the final blow in YLM), where do we go from here?

Florida!!!: Emphasis on the “!!!”!!! Honestly it had me at FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE. I’m soooooo curious and sooooooooooooo pumped for this one. I don’t want to let myself hope it’s going to sound like a Florence song BUT I HOPE IT SOUNDS LIKE A FLORENCE SONG. I’m going to guess it may be a reference to the first stop on tour after the news broke. Wasn’t that also a show where a ton of things went wrong? I can see it going so many ways! Is it a hopeful “Florida I’m coming for you you’re a symbol of my great escape my prison break my entire life crumbling and rising again”? An introspective “I never thought I’d have to rebuild my whole world after it imploded, in Florida of all places?!”? Is it a sarcastic “fucking Florida always the scene of the crime I can’t believe my life is falling apart and I need to go to FUCKASS FLORIDA oh great every thing that can go wrong with my show is FLORIDA!!!!”? Is it a rant about the corporate mouse? Or a scathing takedown of Republican politics ahead of the 2024 elections? (lol) Who’s to say?!

Guilty as Sin?: Sooooooooooo curious about this. I’m a Carolina Stan and I know there is 0% chance there is a link between the two songs other than the lyric which is a common term, but it does make me happy. My first thought about this one is that it’s going to be biting or self-reflective — kinda like the bridge of Is It Over Now? Or the chorus of Anti-Hero. As in, “what is it exactly that you think I’m guilty of?” (E.g. ambition? Drive? Seeking attention? Being selfish? But could also be sad: Loving too hard? Caring too much? Being too needy? Hmmm.) I’m kind of feeling like it’s a “if it’s wrong to be guilty of these things I don’t want to be right.” Again if I had to guess I’d wonder if it would have the same vibes as the bridge of YLM. (For some reason, with the question mark, I don’t necessarily think it’s going to be accusing someone of something…)* I also had a thought about the seven deadly sins and this title and… THOUGHTS ARE THINKING**.

(*I may not have found it accusatory in February, but with the benefit of hindsight in March I… reserve the right to change my mind about this.)

(**Future Waves here: the thoughts may have been thinking for February Waves but March Waves has no idea what she was talking about.)

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?: I don’t knooooooooooow. At first the title kinda gave me Blank Space vibes, like, you don’t know how much I could fuck this up if I wanted. Then some people mentioned the similarity to Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? And now that’s absolutely all I can think about. If you’ve ever seen the movie (or the play), it is rooooooooough. Watching George and Martha drunkenly eviscerate each other as their guests watch on in horror is… oof. (As someone who has seen this happen in real life and was trapped on a boat with a couple in full unhinged mode… OOF. Just OOF.) Of course there’s the Burton-Taylor of it all too so… (there’s also an interesting theme in Virginia Woolf about buying into illusion to avoid the messiness of reality… and Martha resenting George’s lack of ambition.) Is this song cheeky? Or a threat? Is this a Better Than Revenge/Vigilante Shit rebuke or is it Bejeweled owning her personhood?

(Like any of these songs, there’s also the chance that it’s heartbreaking and is really a reflection on how the things that make her her can be weaponized against her… Or how her struggles/vices alienate her to the person she loves a la Anti-Hero…)

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can): My first thought is this is going to be one of her sarcastic/satirical/funnier ones, based on nothing except that this sounds like it could be an Olivia Rodrigo cheeky song lol. (Like, I immediately start singing this to the tune of “Get Him Back.”) Never beat those allegations, Taylor, we’ve all been there. It definitely feels like a stereotypical tale of “girl tries to fix a man who doesn’t want to change and refuses to give up.” Watch this actually be a sad ballad about the flip side of renegade and trying to help a partner through a crisis 😬 

loml: the quiet menace in this list!!!! Obviously we’re all immediately thinking “love of my life,” but because this is Taylor, we should not rest easy. The fact that it’s all in small caps is curious to me and calls back to text speak, so is this a term of endearment that turns into a final parting sign off? Is it from an email ahem? Is it a sweet song about the good parts of being together? A wistful song about a lost love? BUT THEN, because it’s Taylor, I can totally see this being a bait and switch and it standing for something else as some of you pointed out, like loss of my life, or love OR my life. Or something entirely different. I’m pretty convinced that this one is going to be devastating in some fashion. I just feel it in my bones.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart: Like many of you, I’m fairly certain this is going to be a bittersweet Long Live-esque ode to the Eras tour. The pick yourself up by the bootstraps, get out of bed, the show must go on and the show is saving my life story. Just thinking of the quote from the Time POTY interview where she said, “I know I’m going on that stage whether I’m sick, injured, heartbroken, uncomfortable, or stressed.” And in those early weeks, it seems like she might have been all of those things at once. Just trying to talk yourself into getting out of bed when all you want the earth’s core to swallow you whole and never come back. Kind of like, I can pick up the pieces of my life and carry on even when I am dying inside. 

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived: Obviously this is about one Benjamin Button, please. OK, in all seriousness, it’s giving, well… *shots fired*. It’s giving “your integrity makes me seem small.” It’s giving “I’m a monster on the hill, too big to hang out.” It’s giving “all you are is mean.” So, part of me thinks it’s going to be turned on its head a little bit, just because… it seems to point to something directly and sometimes Taylor enjoys a bit of misdirection. So is this about someone who takes shots at someone else and in so doing, displays their own insecurity? Another thought I had is: Is this about someone who retreats into their own world so much that they’ve shut out everything and everyone else? Their whole world gets shrunken down to the four walls around them? I have a strong feeling this is an allegory-type song, using a fictionalized and possibly fantastical story to tell the real life one, but obviously I could be wrong.

The Alchemy: gonna be real with you all: I didn’t know that alchemy was the practice of turning base metals into something that looks like gold. I think I was mixing it up with apothecary or something, lol. I thought it was the practice of making potions and whatnot. #TheMoreYouKnow ANYWAY, I think the idea of “turning nothing into something that shines” is going to be important. Is it about using her best colours for a portrait to hide the cracks underneath? Is it about trying your best to make something work and thrive but ultimately coming up empty because the foundation is gone? Is it about turning these base experiences into art that fuels her? There are so many possibilities! (@taylortruther’s post about The Alchemy and other comments got me thinking too about the magician/illusionist scenario in So It Goes and now my brain is on fire.)

Clara Bow: Soooooooooo intrigued by this one too. People have pointed out so many of the interesting coincidences and parallels in their lives. Clara Bow was a silent film star who found her voice in the talkies — that right there is one metaphor about finding your voice in your art and your life. But it’s also an interesting parallel that she managed to parlay her success in silent film into talkies, at a time where few actors enjoyed a successful transition, which mirrors Taylor’s transition from country to pop. There’s the way Clara’s private life was splashed all over the press, driven by salacious rumours about her sex life and her perceived revolving door of lovers, which seems like something Taylor would empathize with. There’s the way she had a breakdown and left Hollywood, which may have some shades of 2016. Or that she got married and started a family, but insisted on keeping it a secret for many years to maintain privacy, which is interesting because in this case it seems like *Clara* was the one driving the need for secrecy, not her husband. (At least I read that in one article somewhere, sorry if that’s wrong!) Ultimately though, she died relatively young and was forgotten by mainstream Hollywood, a relic of a past uninteresting to all but the most diehard of film buffs. I’m getting vibes of “The Lucky One,”  (and “Nothing New”) both in themes and in storytelling. So, watch it be completely different and not a story about Clara Bow but instead just have it be an off-hand line lol.

BONUS TRACKS

The Manuscript: I’m veeeeeery intrigued by this one. (I know I say that about all of them. That’s because they all intrigue me.) I love the idea that this wraps up the “standard” album; the chair(wo)man of the Tortured Poets Department has submitted her thesis for review, and it’s up to the board to draw their conclusion. OR: the idea that this is the unfiltered submission to a publisher, before the editor’s review that will cut and tighten and ultimately make it better, but loses the author’s initial vision in the process. (Like self-editing to share the most palatable story to your reader. Which… Also gives Dear Reader/Midnights in general vibes.) OR EVEN: this is the author’s story, submitted to the audience for their review, leaving it up to them to draw their conclusions and annotate. There are sooooooo many ways I can see this going. 

The Bolter: A curious one indeed! I feel like of all of the bonus tracks at least, this is the one I have the least idea about. My immediate guess is that it refers to a person who runs, which would have all kinds of implications. Running from the law (unlikely lol), running from commitment, running from conflict… running for your life. Like running from commitment because you’re scared of being tied down (single girl version) to running from commitment because you’re scared of being tied down (bitter wife* version). (*NOT saying there was a secret wedding lol. I mean as in, that’s the future that was in store if one stayed.) I saw other takes saying bolter is also slang for jailer, which is also interesting with the Ready For It of it all. 

The Albatross: So much has been said about this one, so I don’t think I have much to ado about this one! The famous poem is rife with all kinds of allusions: the bird soaring on its own for up to six years, but being brought down by man’s cruelty. The bird looking majestic in the skies, but the burden of its wings dragging it down on land, slowly killing it. The story being a metaphor for how the very thing poets are exalted for in society are the things they are punished for personally. I think it’s safe to say this one is going to hurt regardless, whether it’s a reference to herself, to ***, or something else entirely.

The Black Dog: Also another one I’m not sure I have many thoughts on yet. The black dog being a metaphor for depression is likely the inspiration, and I’m assuming this has the potential to be one of the most vulnerable songs yet. I have a feeling most of this album will be, but the imagery of this — the black dog being a constant companion, wanted or not, casting a pall over its master’s every move — points in a pretty obvious direction. And one that is probably going to gut us.

Well there you have it folks! I am ready to be completely wrong!

#the tortured poets department #Happy Good Friday this post has risen from the dead #(oops was that uncouth of me) #three weeks!!!!!! #i need this album now #my brain is on fire #Writing letters addressed to the fire

[sehodreams]

thoughts on dark rich riize buying reader in a human trafficking black market. the reader legally belongs to the buyer.

Damn I like the concept, these are the ones who came to my mind (sorry for the others I couldn't imagine)

Lol not me searching "how do a black market look like? for writing purposes not for illegal purchases" to understand how it worked HAHAHAAHAAHAHA

TW and tags: smut, oral sex (m receiving), dubcon, noncon, slapping, overstimulation, hints of sadism, dom!riize, I can't remember how all the nasty stuff here is called so if someone told me I'd be grateful 🤣

Eunseok

He'd be warm, like, you felt scared to be there, but he'd always talk to you softly, telling you how much he enjoyed your company, your presence, and how beautiful you looked with his gifts.

He'd buy you everything that reminded him of you, his little doll.

He'd be just so nice, soft touches and multiple kisses in day light, but when the night came, you were scared of who would you with that night, would it be your soft owner? Or the other guy? The guy who slapped your face and left hand marks on your neck, or that would sometimes go crazy and let candles drip over your back when he fucked you from behind.

You could never predict what would happen, and he would always repeat the same thing "my doll", because he had to make sure you understood that, you just were his pretty, warm and soft doll.

Wonbin

Wonbin always looked so sweet, he gave the prettiest smiles when he was on those video conferences for work, and you saw him being so kind to others, so why couldn't he be that nice to you?

You'd watch him from your cage, always in front of him, to be comforted with your presence and on his watch to know your every move. You had tried to escape three times, and those were already too many times for him to ever trust you again, so your punishment was to always be behind those bars the time he decided.

He'd let you roam around mostly at night, when he felt like having you even closer, his chest on your back while playing with your little bud, fucking you over the same table you had dinner, or making you suck him after you had your daily bath.

Now, he was pushing the vibrator to your dripping cunt, making you cum until you cried and made a mess over his expensive couch after you told him you wanted to leave after he asked you what would you like for your first month anniversary there.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" you'd repeat, crying of overstimulation after your third orgasm.

"I don't think you're sorry enough" he'd smile, whispering to your ear, to then leave pecks over all over your neck. "You need to learn that you're not a guest here, you're my property, so you better get used to your new life"

Anton

You had no family and no friends, so you were the perfect target for the people that took you from your little apartment in the middle of the night, no one asked for you, your coworkers quickly forgot about your existence and then you just... Disappeared. So, when he bought you, you didn't put much fight, tired of your old life, maybe that would be the best, you thought.

There, with him, at least you had a much nicer home, a hot meal every day and what you always wanted, a person to depend on. So, what if he made you wear a collar with his name all the time? And what if you had to wait for him to feed you because if not he'd get angry? You didn't want to make him angry, you wanted to always see that pretty smile telling you how good you were, "such a good girl" he'd say every time you let him take off the little clothes he let you wear, putting his dick inside you when you watched his favorite programs, or when he was playing those silly games that made him insanely rich.

And sometimes he was more than nice, like when he took you shopping in the middle of the night to those stores you couldn't afford in your old life with your disgusting minimum wage, buying you all the food and clothes you'd ever want and need.

And what if those nights he made you walk with a leash? You'd do it all again if you could always be with him.

Shotaro

He was so nice most of the time, buying you expensive dinners, letting you cuddle beside him, making sure you had everything you'd ever need, you ended appreciating him.

It was hard at first, to get used to that lifestyle, not being able to leave the apartment, to lose all contact with your family and friends, even to endure his touches, but you had to get used to it, he was clear when you arrived, the only thing he expected from you was to look pretty, not talk and welcome him with open legs every time he needed.

When you refused at first you had it bad, he'd starve you, talk to you coldly and take you with force, but when you learned how to be the little angel he needed, everything got better, his hands wouldn't furiously touch you anymore, instead he'd caress you with them, touching the little place that got addicted to his attentions, and who needed to talk? now all you needed inside your mouth was his cock when he came after a long day of work, to thank him for everything he did for you

#riize x plus size reader #riize x reader #dark!riize #riize smut #eunseok x reader #anton x reader #wonbin x reader #shotaro x reader

[makingspiritualityreal]

Firstly, I love your posts soo much!!

Maybe it is the effect of pluto and sun transiting the Aquarius!! that I have an idea..just hear me out.

I wish there were some free open astrology forums that helped people by telling them one positive life event that individual can look forward to based on their charts.

In fact, it would be so nice if the predictive astrology could start offering predictions about more positive events to look forward to such that it becomes slightly easy to bear with what's happening at the present.

Just saying...

💛

Are Predictions Important in Astrology?

I appreciate your message, and it is an excellent time to talk about my perspective on the subject.

I am not a fan of predictive Astrology. I say this as a person who completely understands how it is to feel such despair that you feel like you can't go on another second without having the assurance that your life will get better soon. That's also why people turn to more abstract means of divination, such as tarot.

However, these tools should be used to understand the flow of your life and what your current growth path is about. They're not a take out menu that you pick from. Insistence on predictions has caused many astrologers to be treated very instrumentally. Some people think a psychic is someone who's supposed to just deliver the version of the future that the client is going to like to hear. "you will get married in a year and it will be a June wedding" yeah right lol.

I know many good astrologers. I have yet to see even the best ones I know make a single accurate prediction. When events such as death, loss or illnesses in my family were happening, it was always a surprise. We're not supposed to know such things. Fun fact, my psychic abilities were tingling, up to a year ahead even, but I always ignored them in key moments.

I will explain it to you through an example. My mother died prematurely when I was barely out of high school. She was a single mother, and her death put me on the outs with the rest of my family, that showed their true colours in a difficult situation. It was a shock to everyone because she was very physically healthy and fit, and way too young to die and yet it happened.

A year before her death, she left me alone for the summer in the condo where I grew up with her. I was working in my hometown at that time, in between college semesters, and she found an extra paid summer job with some of our family members that live abroad. It was the first time in my life, that I was without her for that long, and to be frank, I loved the independence, like any very young person does when you let them "off the leash". I remember very clearly the day she left. We used to have family pictures taped to a glass door on a living room cabinet. My grandfather was an avid photographer and we always had plenty of photos with him around. One of the pictures was a close up of my eyes. Because the glass cabinet was positioned close to the living room window, the sun was always streaming in on it. That can cause discoloration in printed photos. On that day, the picture of my eyes had the sun leave long marks on it in such a way, that they looked like tears.

I believe this to be the strongest psychic experience I've ever had, even though I still had years of spiritual learning ahead of me at that point. Because upon seeing that picture, I knew my mom was going to die, and that it was going to cause grief in my life, even though it took over a year for that prediction to come true. I never told anyone about it, and never took that feeling seriously.

Why? Because it was so unbelievable. Because logic was against it. Because I had my own personal feelings and egoic consciousness, that had completely different feelings and desires about my life circumstances. And because it wasn't yet the time of my life when I was mature enough to treat my spiritual journey seriously.

And that is how it was meant to be at the time. Looking back on it now, I remember the feeling of prediction more as a moment of awareness. It was like seeing an inevitable chain of events unfold. Something in my consciousness was smart enough to be able to see so far ahead. Spiritually, I believe it was a warning from my spirit guides, and in a way a friendly one. "Get used to being alone and handling life alone for more than one summer vacation because it's soon gonna become your reality". But I couldn't take it seriously, because my mom and I were fighting a lot at that time, so missing her was not what I had in mind at all. I craved independence, and that feeling was my reality, which I took more seriously than some abstract premonition. In a way, knowing didn't really help me at all in the moment.

And that situation shows perfectly what the problem is with predictions. Human beings are limited by their egos and their flaws and their lack of perspective. That makes them reject whatever doesn't currently fit into their narrative. People don't want a real prediction. They want to hear they're going to get the cookie they're craving. Then they want it over and over and over again.

I understand my journey now, so many years after all these events. But it took so much growing up, that no prediction would ever fix.

There is always something to look forward to in life. Don't try to control it, and let it come to you. When the Universe wants to put you through a certain experience, it will, and there is nothing you can do about it.

#private astro asks #astrology predictions #astrology readings #astrology observations #astrology notes

[theknightmarket]

HAPPY NEW YEAR, LADS! Here’s some incorrect quotes to celebrate that were meant to be for the anniversary, but I forgot about them. Spoilers for fics that I’m toying with or am in the process of writing!

Dark: If you could guess, how many brain cells do you have?  Wilford: Dorito’s cool ranch.  Dark:  Dark: I'm just gonna assume zero for now.  Wilford: I love that song.

Illinois: You know you can die from that, right?  Bond!Reader: *smoking a cigarette* That’s the point.  Google: *drinking alcohol* We’re trying to speed this up.  Bing: *Eating raw cookie dough and nodding*

Dark: I'm going to ask you to be respectful.  Mark, after kidnapping the DA: I will politely decline.

Detective!Reader: You’re alive.  Murdock: No need to sound so disappointed.

Engineer!Reader, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy.  Google: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.

Yancy: If there’s one thing I learned from Bing, it’s to set people’s expectations real low, so you end up surprising them by practically doing nothing at all.

Heist!Reader: Dammit, Mark, you ruined everything!  Heist: You’re welcome.

Dark: Fine! I don't give a shit!  DA!Reader, watching him keep coming back from the mirror: You seem to give a lot of shit for someone who claims not to give a shit.

Bing: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, that’s fucked up. Like c'mon, you know I’m dumb as hell!

(Engineer!Reader is on a business trip) Google: Ew. What kind of tea is this?  Bing: I boiled gatorade.

Heist: Please, picking locks is my specialty.  Heist: *throws a brick through the window*  Heist: Okay, let’s go.

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*  Ghosts!Reader: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know. 

Everyone: Engineer: ...I did. I broke it.  Reader: No. No, you didn't. Wilford?  Wilford: Don't look at me. Look at Mark.  Mark: What?! I didn't break it.  Wilford: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?  Mark: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.  Wilford: Suspicious.  Mark: No, it's not!  Damien: If it matters, probably not, but Noir was the last one to use it.  Noir: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!  Damien: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?  Noir: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Damien! Engineer: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, cap.  Reader: No! Who broke it!?  Everyone: Yancy:  Hey, bud… Illinois' been awfully quiet.  Illinois: rEALLY?!  *Everyone starts arguing*  Reader, talking to Host: I broke it. It burned my hand so I punched it.  Reader: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.  Reader:  Reader: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

Murdock: So you like cats?  Detective!Reader: Yeah.  Murdock: *tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table*

Police!Reader: We are gathered here today because someone- *glares at Mark’s coffin* -couldn’t stay alive!

Engineer!Reader: Why are you two always out during rainstorms?  Google: It’s so peaceful and refreshing. I love the smell of rain.  Bing: Google bet me I couldn’t get struck by lighting, but he’s WRONG.

The police chief, pointing to Murdock’s empty cell: YOU LET HIM ESCAPE?!?  Detective!Reader: I WAS ON BREAK.

Detective!Reader: I’m going to take you out. Murdock: Great, it’s a date! Detective!Reader: I meant that as a threat.  Murdock: See you at five!

Actor!Reader, struggling to keep upright in their 1 inch heels: Yeah, I-I don’t really think heels are for me. Actor, pointing at them and walking flawlessly in sparkly golden 6 inch heels: WEAK.

Bing: I'm incredibly fast at math. Engineer!Reader: Alright, what's 30 x 17? Bing: 47. Engineer!Reader: That's not even close. Bing: But it was fast.

Police!Reader: Go to Hell. Actor: I wish I could.

Dark: In light of what you did for me, you can hug me for four to five seconds. DA!Reader: FORTY-FIVE SECONDS?!? Dark: No! Four to five seconds! DA!Reader: Too late!!!

*Damien and College!Reader skipping stones on lake* Damien: It’s such a beautiful evening. College!Reader, whispering: Take that you fucking lake.

Actor: So that’s my plan. Police!Reader: Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don’t want to sound mean. Actor: No, go ahead, I want to hear it. Detective!Reader: It fucking sucks. Actor: That’s not constructive criticism.

Bartender!Reader: Can you please be serious for five minutes?  Wilford: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

Actor!Reader: How petty can you get? Actor: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Illinois: Yancy and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us. Criminal!Reader: *Sighing* What did Yancy do?  Illinois: He chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...  Yancy: Who wants a steering wheel?

Dark: Why. why did you give the DA a KNIFE?! Wilford: I’m sorry. They said they felt unsafe. Dark: Now I feel unsafe! Wilford: I’m sorry. Wilford: ... would you like a knife?

*DA!Reader and Wilford sitting in jail together* DA!Reader: So who should we call? Wilford: I’d call Dark, but I feel safer in jail.

Engineer: Gunther, can I talk to you for a second? Gunther: Yeah, what’s up? Lemme guess. You and Cap are having problems and you want me to teach you how to kiss? Engineer: What? No, stop that. I know how to kiss. I’ve read books.

Ghosts!Reader: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?  Engineer: >:O language. Bing: Yeah watch your fucking language. Yancy: OKAY WHO TAUGHT BING THE FUCK WORD?  Google: 'The fuck word'.  Noir: Are you stupid? You all use the f word all the time.  Wilford: Oh my god he censored it. Illinois: Say fuck, Noir.  Mark: Do it, Noir. Say fuck.

Host: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.  Mark: What if it bites me and it dies!?  Dark: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Mark, learn to listen.  Yancy: What if it bites itself and I die?  Noir: That’s voodoo.  Bing: What if it bites me and someone else dies?  Google: That’s correlation, not causation.  Illinois: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?  Wilford: That’s kinky.  Ghosts!Reader: I hate this house.

Sheriff!Reader: Died and came back as a cowboy, I call that reintarnation.

Mark, setting down a card: Ace of spades. Dodger, pulling out an Uno card: +4. Enis, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you! Survivor!Reader, trembling: What are we playing?

Actor: You lying, cheating, piece of shit! Actor!Reader: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD! Actor: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING JULIET WITH ME. Toby, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

#theknightmarket #markiplier egos #fanfiction #writing #markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #one shots #happy new years #spoilers #I misspelt spoilers the first time #x reader #incorrect quotes

[anemxvisions]

//ok my monster thoughts about the AQ

Ok first off Paimon read the freaking room omfg like please! Do you not see the state of Possion?! Like she just lost the two closest people in her life. On top of that I was crying laughing when Neuvillette showed up and clearly saw her going through it but he legit perked up and was so happy to hear how Sigewinne is doing like bruh XD

That out of the way lets get to the most talked about parts of the AQ

First the imfamous Childe throw by Skirk…honestly it’s actually what I expect from her. Listen Hoyo loves teasing us so they’re not going to show all dynamics with her. If anything this is a clear sign of her character especially as she referred to an all consuming whale as a pet. Her chucking Childe goes to show she’s not super entuned with human nature, given how long she’s been in the abyss makes sense. Bottomline I didn’t take away from the scene as comedic, yeah it got a little chuckle but after I heard how Skirk talked about him makes sense, Childe is the stray cat she found in the dumpster, stinky baby.

Moving onto the Focalor and Furina, yeah Furina needs a god damn hug and I’m taking her away from Focalor! My jaw dropped when I saw the hundreds of tally marks as she had to go through basically the same day for over five hundred years with the only thing keeping her going is Focalor’s message. God my poor bubble like she probably wanted to tell Neuvillette so many times but couldn’t I’m sobbing.

I do feel they could have hinted more at Focalor being separated, it would have made her sacrifice feel more impactful like Rukka’s but I digress she needed to be completely hidden in order to defy the heavenly principles which good for you girl. I just don’t like how Furina’s ‘reward’ for all of this is to live as a human like…five hundred years to get maybe at most sixty years? It does not seem fair or just, her suffering worth so little.

Neuvillette honestly was going through it but I’m so happy he wasn’t ‘betrayed’ by Furina like how a lot of us were predicting. I do however wished he had the like big emotional moment with her and not Focalor.

A thing I really liked is how the Fatui for once are not blamed for what happened and instead actually helped the nation out. The Knave said it best that organizations with abundances of resources should lend a hand no matter sides. She came to Fontaine first to save her home get the gnosis second. I am sensing the building blocks of her being friendly towards us for when she eventually becomes playable and yeah wincing and mourning the loss of her being the mean queen but who knows we still need Fontaine’s second world boss.

Nobody else said it but I am so mad at the lack of more Remurina lore! Like how can you heavily talk about it last quest and barely any mention of it?! I hear maybe in the future we will be getting more but I’m all huffy

So glad to see the arc was used, a small part of me felt like the arc in the fortress was never going to be used as a plot point so very glad I wasn’t disappointed.

Now onto the extra info at the end…the gnosis being the remains of the third descender is def giving JJK Sukuna fingers vibes lol like what the Tsarista gonna collect them all consume them and get the power of a descender hehehehehe…..

Anyways! Natlan crumbs and it’s the nation of war and dragons like hello!

Overall I don’t typically play Archon Quests expecting anything, I always set my expectations low so I don’t get unintentionally mad some bit I was hoping for isn’t add. I don’t really expect hoyo to really get into the nitty gritty details especially with archon quests and with a track record of many of the final acts falling short I was expecting this a fifth time.

I give this AQ as a whole a 6.9/10

The build up was great the cutscenes amazing urgency all the way until the end. There are ofc some parts where it fell flat but I still greatly enjoyed this quest.

#ooc;; #genshin spoilers #genshin spoilers cw #spoilers

[lovereconthings]

How to Fight Complacency in Your Marriage

Tips On How to Fight Complacency in Your Marriage

Let's Get Started Are either or both of you feeling a sense of complacency in your marriage? Success in careers or parenting are significant accomplishments, but they are no replacement for having a thriving and satisfying relationship with your life partner. It's so natural to focus on our careers and raising a family that we forget our responsibility to our mate and our relationship.

When we're so busy that we don't have time for our spouse, it's a sign of complacency. When we don't have time to talk or be together, we have pushed our marriage to the bottom of our priority list. This marks the beginning of deterioration in a relationship. Take a realistic look at your relationship and ask yourself, “Do any of the following indicators of relationship complacency describe me and my marriage?” - Few and infrequent expressions of kindness or affection - Saying “I love you" infrequently or in a superficial manner - Not “being present” or being distracted when you are together - Being lazy or sloppy with the little things that communicate respect, like picking up your clothes, taking out the trash, leaving a mess, etc. - Shallow conversations with no heart connection - Sniping and bickering about non-essential topics - Having a numb heart or a critical spirit regarding your spouse The antidote to complacency is quite simple: court your spouse like you did before you were a couple. As the saying goes, "If there were more courting in marriage, there would be fewer marriages in court!" - Date your mate. While it is true that your schedule is hectic, you can make time for a weekly date if you want to, if it is a priority. It doesn't have to be on a Friday or Saturday night. Any time is great for a date if you agree to take the time to focus on and enjoy each other. You don't have to spend much if any, money either. You must, however, dedicate this time to being alone– just the two of you. You need this time alone desperately. When you first dated, you made yourself attractive to each other. You picked out clothes and prepared for the date. You planned dates that you thought would be enjoyable for you both. You invested time and thought into these experiences. It's not complicated; make an effort! - Plan an adventure or getaway. Chances are, you had adventures together when you were dating. Chances are also that you are having few to none of those adventures presently. You've fallen into a rut, and maybe even a monotonous, predictable, and dull state of being. Too many couples think they can postpone fun and adventure until after they finish their work or after they retire. Trips are deferred until life calms down or the kids move out of the house. This thinking is mistaken because there is always something to demand our time and attention and prevent us from breaking away. So, why not plan your adventure today? Do something that you’ve never done before or take a trip to a destination that is new to you both. You could sign up for a class and learn a new skill together. Whatever you do, break the routine and make it happen! - Be more affectionate. Do you remember how you couldn't keep your hands off each other when you were dating? Now you don't even hold hands and rarely kiss one another. When affection wanes, so do connection and intimacy. We are geared to need physical affection. However, you may not "feel" affectionate for various reasons. Stress, health issues, fatigue, or even unresolved bitterness or resentment can cause a lack of desire for affection. However, it is a mistake to wait until you feel affectionate to show affection to your spouse. Emotion follows motion. In other words, your feelings will always follow your behavior. Make an effort, and your feelings will catch up. Physical contact should be a part of your daily connection with your spouse. One way to put affection back into your relationship is to institute the practice of "ten-second hugs" and "ten-second kisses." Either one of you can call for a ten-second hug or a ten-second kiss, and the other responds by participating. Don't think that it will lead to sex! You don't want to sabotage the agreement by expecting sex. It might set the stage for sexual intimacy later, but for now, let it just be a kiss or a hug. Now is the time to turn your attention to your relationship. Please don't wait until it is too late and then try to salvage what is left of the relationship that you once had. That will take far more time and effort than cultivating your relationship now. If you’re going to go the distance with your partner, you must develop your life together now. If you’re in a complacent relationship, Love Recon can help you reconnect and re-ignite the flame of your love for one another. Read the full article

#flirtingfun #improveyourrelationship #sexandpassion

[justtryingtoliveright]

Wednesday 17th August 2022

Dear Blog, 

Today was a generally okay day. It wasn’t good but wasn’t bad. Parts of the day felt entirely numb, and I had no feeling at all. To be honest I think that those times were the most difficult as when your mind is blank, it’s entirely unfocussed, which made work difficult and I felt like I was constantly forgetting to do things or I’d be in the middle of something and the blankness made it all confusing. It gets more and more like that these days, whether it’s just me being strange or whether I’m just exhausted. Both would make perfect sense.

Work was good today. I think it helps take my mind off things, I really enjoy it!! If I could get paid for something like that I think I’d have a great time, although that is definitely not in my future plans. Work was absolutely manic from the second I walked through the door. There must have been 3 volunteers in there for the morning shift who were finishing up, plus the managers. They were incredibly busy, everyone doing different jobs. They then got me doing sorting, which is something I’ve never really done and did an awful job at it. I didn’t even get to finish before I was set back to the tills, which was a relief. I was by myself on the tills in the afternoon, which I think I prefer to be honest. When there’s more than one person on it feels like there’s nothing to do sometimes. I did a lot of reorganising, which I also really enjoy, especially when I get to colour coordinate stuff!! I did a lot of restocking and generally had so much fun at work. The assistant manager also told me that I’m a pleasure to work with and always engaged and like to be busy. That was the confidence boost I needed.

The one real bother for today is results day. I get my A level results tomorrow and know for a fact that I’ve really messed up. My predictions for tomorrow:

Biology: B

Chemistry: E

Maths: C

Further Maths: U

I’ve been incredibly stressed about that today and its made me feel so incredibly sick. A levels generally went so badly and I do feel very let down in many ways. 

I don’t agree with exams generally for many reason. Firstly, how can you base a qualification off a set off exam questions based off purely knowledge recall? This counts for all subjects. Even if you have to analyse parts and expand your knowledge to answer the question it always required knowledge recall and if you struggle with that, or stress affects it (which is my case), then exams feel like an impossible feat. Secondly, if you had a bad day, had a lot going on in your personal life or any other possible problem, your exams can be badly affected and in that case, that’s your chance at a good grade completely obliterated. On the same kind of lines, if the person marking your exam has had a particularly bad day, their marking may be more critical, and may not give you marks where you could argue that you’d deserve them. 

One more argument I will make is that exam conditions are not always the ideal conditions for some people to work. I find myself in this category. For me, I find full silence more stressful to work in than slightly noisy condition. It’s something that has only affected me for 2 years now but I have a problem that exam conditions silence is never silence. In exams although there isn’t talking to be a distraction the lack of causes me to be fully immersed and distracted by every other sound in the room. There’s been times in our mocks where because the clock was ticking (thankfully they used ones that don’t tick for the real exams), I spent 10+ minutes not able to focus because I couldn’t erase the ticking from my mind. Exam season is also hay fever season so that was something else that was a distraction for me. I will also point out, of course they can’t help suffering with it, it’s just unfortunate that my brain focuses on each sound s it does when I’m in silent conditions. Having it makes me feel guilty because it cannot be helped but I struggle. 

Other reasons I feel let down: covid has really messed up our A level years. These exams were the first formal exams a lot of our year sat since year 6 (not including mocks as they’re different in a way). Also the fact that we were behind in the first place by not doing GCSEs, exacerbated by the fact that learning was messy, some was remote (which doesn’t work for a lot of people), and some was even spent in lockdowns. With all of that they’re still using out year to try and lower the grade boundaries back to the 2019 level. One more thing is the fact that the advanced information we were given was incredibly inaccurate a lot of the time. I used the advanced information as I was meant to and studies other topics as well as those listed, but one some of the papers the advanced information was very misleading. For example, on the first biology paper one of the top listed topics (so should be one of the most credits) was photosynthesis, for there to be a single 5 mark question that was a FILL IN THE GAP. It’s the first time ever that I’ve wanted more questions on photosynthesis. I revised it so much for it to hardly come up. In the same subject, enzymes didn’t appear ont the advanced information at all but came up a lot in (I think) all 3 papers!! The3rd biology paper also had a chemistry topic in that we don’t even cover in biology, which was very surprising to see at the time. .

The last reason I fell let down is the leak of our chemistry paper. More than a week before we sat it, the paper was circulating around so much so that over 5000 students got access to it. There is evidence that AQA was told a week in advance about this leak and it was reported by many people, yet nothing was done about it and we found out after we’d already sat the paper that some people had an unfair advantage and a week to get all the answers they needed.

There’s a couple of things that I can’t get out of my mind that have been in there for weeks. For example, the fact that I didn’t realise it at the time, but all throughout my time at my first secondary I was bullied by different people a lot. Initially it was the girls who I called my friends, who I eventually left the group of because I was treated so incredibly poorly by them. They spent at least 4 months trying to kick me out while I had no other friends to fall back on. Then there was J and A, who took the piss out of me whenever I was with them, whether it be social or because the seating plan had me with them in lesson. Then there was C, who was manipulating me a lot to conform to her and be her mini follower. There was also the drama between T and M that I managed to get in the middle of, and M and MB ganging up on me at times in the middle of it all. At that place I just seemed to be hated by everyone.

It is 00:45 on results day currently so I will sign off here

Thanks all xx 

[dreamypainter]

RSA Bound

Authors note: got brain rot about an RSA au for the twst boys because i'm always a sucker of character development for the sake of others.

Characters: All the dorms (all of them this is a really long headcanon essentially)

Warnings: some weird behaviors (for obsessive thinning and such) but nothing graphic

----

Rsa vs Nrc

Chenya was a youth of mischief and poetry, often coating his messages with flowering language and sweet deceptions so RSA never really knew what to make of his many tales when coming back from their rival school. But when one day he announced they had stolen away a poor unsuspecting victim, unease was immediately aroused.

Some claimed Chenya made it up, to spark some sort of unrest in calm as he was bored, though it was rare that Chechnya outright lied so many were on board with at least trying to offer a hand to the poor person instead.

Chenya snickered as he watched his classmates fumble out explanations on why they needed to go to the NRC right now. Of course, the first time he had met you their predictions were not far off but now? He doesn't think he's seen villains melt so quickly in another's presence. (But he wouldn't miss a chance to see you, so he opted to sit in the corner and observe.)

“Wha-” Crowley’s mouth flapped open not far off from a goldfish as RSA’s principle demanded a new event. “What are you talking about? Me? Holding a student hostage?”. You briefly flashed to his mind before he dismissed it. It couldn't be you, after all, he was such a gracious principle and you were so well taken care of! (Not to mention some powerful students had grown fond of you and he really couldn't risk taking you away from them.) “No no no you've been mistaken my good sir but-” a brief idea sparks in his head,” how about we organize a transfer program instead?”

Of course in his haste to try and alleviate the situation and save whatever face he has left he offers to allow you to traverse schools for a few semesters. It's a quick discussion, messy in theory with loopholes riddling the communication, and by the end, it ends up in a full transfer competition. Whichever school you preferred you would stay.  Just to loosen the rumors. He thinks.

Staring into the eyes of enraged powerful villains he thinks he may be, had messed up. Just a little. 

Dorms reactions under cut!

Heartslabyul is fuming! They're petulant on glares and subtle degrading remarks throughout the entire process, glaring at the paperwork as if their collective anger could somehow burst the papers into flames and prolong your leave. They walk you to the gates of RSA dutifully on your first week, making sure to leave their marks on you in front of the surprised heroes. 

Riddle is angry at everything about the entire procedure. He lets out an angry puff of air as he escorts you to the gates, glaring at the few students who dare to stare at you. The audacity they have to steal you away, next time they try this it's off with their heads. (Literally) His lips meet your hands in a sort of reverence before he departs. 

“I'll see you soon, if you need anything don't hesitate to reach out.”

Trey is a lot calmer, the sole reason why Crowley hasn't ended up in a ditch by his own dorm's hands (although he'd be lying if he didn't sometimes get the urge to strangle the crow himself.) He's sad to see you go but doesn't want this to be any more stressful for you so he's careful to hide his feelings behind a smile, bidding you adieu at the door. 

“Take care of yourself for me? I'll bake you something nice when you get back.”

Cater never misses an opportunity to post, although a lot of his posts now highlight a sadder tone and snarky nature towards an unseen figure. Man crows are kinda annoying, right? Anyways y/n is leaving today :(( praying that they come back soon! He makes sure to have some sort of communication before dropping you off. 

“Don't be a stranger ok? For real, I'll miss you”

ADeuce is sobbing the entire way through, both of them having almost plastered the principal to the wall when they heard the news. You had become a tight trio and having you gone (or even the prospect) leaves an empty hole in the middle. It's almost frigid and they're probably the most clingy when it comes to communication, often sending good morning and good night texts. 

“Hey, you can't forget about us!! Remember no new friends!”

Savanaclaw is far more hostile in their approach, with no real image to uphold but their strength they make sure to show their prowess when making Crowley's life a living hell. He's never without some sort of scratch or peace with their constant pranks and predatory gazes from across the schoolyard. Savanaclaw escorts you on your second week, forcing a few last head pats before they let you go. 

Leona tries to not let his disappointment at you leave show, but it's a bitter experience having something ripped from him again. A familiar hole of abandonment opens in hers and he is especially tasty throughout the program, the only thing keeping him from truly lashing out is the fact that you hadn't done this by choice. Before He lets you go he grips onto your arm one last time.

“Herbivore… don't befriend other people so quickly. See you.”

Ruggi is much more emotional, openly letting his disappointment show, and is probably the sole reason Crowley has come to school with pink glitter in his hair without fail. For the rest of the time you are in NRC he's clinging onto you, draping over your shoulder and offering to accompany you on chores. As he lets you go at the gate he nuzzles your cheek quickly. 

“See you later ok? That's a promise! Shishishi”

Jack is devastated, not having any energy to truly express his anger but clearly lacking his usual respect for authority. Much like a dog watching its owner depart for the first time he's heartbroken and a little lost without you. (He makes sure not to fall behind though, he doesn't want to disappoint you when you come back.)

“You're coming back, right? Ah sorry, I didn't mean to push, but I'll miss you.”

Octavinelle is an emotional mess, they even had to close down their precious lounge for a while due to Floyd and Jade wreaking havoc in the halls and Azul completely going unresponsive. They're desperately trying to look for loopholes the entire way around but eventually have to come to terms with the fact that you'll be staying away for a while. They're sticky at the gates and the RSA students have to practically pull you away. 

The leader of Octavinelle is a title he has to uphold with authority, but when the news hits him he weeps in his pot for days on end, only coaxed out when you reach in for him. He hates the fact that you're leaving, he hates the fact this was done without your knowledge, he hates Crowley for doing this to you both. He's going to have to give him strict guidance in how to properly yield a contract. But for now, he leaves you at the gate, barely able to keep it together. 

“Don't stay away for too long… when you come back I'll have the twins cook something for you.”

While usually, he calms his brother's temper he can't help but lash out at himself during the time that you're gone or packing. There is no need for calm when it's so obvious that the school needs to be disciplined for sending you away like this hm? It's unforgivable, but even amidst his rage-induced gaze, he's gentle with you as he escorts you to the gates. 

“Alright, here we are. You're coming back of course so there's no real need for tears.”

Floyd is crying one minute and angry, tearing into an unsuspecting victim the next, citing the point of his emotional stability (or lack of it) to the loss of his shrimpy. The stone walls are riddled with holes and eventually, the dorm had to suspend him in fear of the entire building collapsing to water if he had continued. You're late for your next class when he brings you to the RSA refusing to let go of you until his brother comes. 

“Wahhhh it's so unfair!!! I'll be sure to strangle that crow for you!”

The usually chipper Scarabia is oddly silent during the days of your departure. There is no music nor dancing, no feasts or light but rather a sort of mourning. The lack of their eccentric dorm leader only leads to ongoing turmoil. Though they do not outwardly threaten harm, the lack of their usual light suffocates the shadows in the school. Crowley ends up having to beg you to fix it before you go, and they're only truly back in “working condition” when allowed to take over for the next week. 

When the news first hits him Kalim sits blankly on his bed, staring at the wall until Jamil comes in to scold him for almost being late for class. But when he gets into class he can hardly concentrate, part of him feels bad for his performance yet another part cannot bear to care. It's only when he realizes his behavior is affecting others that he comes back to a bright smile, because surely if he can stay useful to you'll come back to him! He hugs you tightly at the gate but departs with a bright smile.

“Ah sorry sorry! I'll throw a huge party when you get back so come home soon!” 

Jamil is exasperated at the onslaught of reactions from the others but can't bring himself to judge too harshly as he acknowledges the pang in his chest. It seems you've been sneakily asserting your place in his heart huh? Well, distance makes the heart fonder, but don't stay away for too long. 

“It won't be long, so don't think you can run away. Ah, but don't worry it's not like I'd ever hurt you.”

Pomefiore prides itself on prestige so there's no actual outward change in their dorm, still picture perfect and aesthetic. The change rather is behind closed doors and the concoctions of plans they have to make you stay theirs. More emotional fits, languid and heartfelt conversations, and gifts than usual seem to flood your way (even more than scarabia) during their reign of your schedule. There is a sight to behold when they leave you at the gate as if to mark you something that doesn't belong at RSA. 

Vil is already plotting the demise of a certain bird, evident in the array of potions that litter his usually tidy desk. That being said he doesn't let his labors show as his improbable makeup and care hide any sort of fatigue. He can't have his potato seeing him a mess before they leave after all. He leaves a lipstick stain on your neck before he departs. 

“Don't stop the skincare potato, I expect you to uphold yourself without me.”

Rook is a composed and distinguished gentleman, so of course, he wouldn't let his gruesome path be seen by your soft eyes. (Crowley has had years shaved off his life by the random arrows plunged right next to his legs.) He is artfully vengeful with his endeavors yet he's perfectly cordial as he brings you to the gate.

“Bon voyage mon ami! Don't forget to wander back home afterward.”

Epel is fuming the entire way through and if vil hadn't threatened to revoke the day he could go with you to the RSA he probably would have joined the twins on their ramage. He's tamer in his wrath towards the principal but that's because if he doesn't keep himself on a tight leash he might just kill him. 

“Alright this is where I have to go but you know, don't be a stranger now!”

Ignihyde was already a secluded dorm, so really no one noticed their change, other than of course then changes themselves. Security and cameras seem to double around the school, tracking and following your movements and Ortho is obsessively at your side. There's barely a time when you cannot hear an incessant whining near your ear or the glaze of a camera out of the corner of your eye. Though they don't show themselves until your departure they do take it upon themselves to physically guide you. 

Idia stands awkwardly at the gate with his brother, not bothering to look up at the scandalized faces of fake heroes. They already had everything so why did they get you too? It's so not fair and he's wrecking them the next time he sees them. But for now, he's more focused on your smile as you wave goodbye. 

“If I had a pomegranate you'd be stuck with me forever you know? … Just kidding.”

Ortho becomes what can only be described as a human security camera, he almost follows you inside the school until you kindly remind him he's not a student. He's near tears as he makes you link pinkies with him. 

“Pinky promise you’ll come back ok?? “

No dorm is muddled with fear such as Diasomnia, the air around them is practically suffocating as they roam the halls. The doors creak louder, there is hostile laughter in the air even when there is no one present. Danger reeks as their rage seems to converge into a tsunami of what can only be described as a near-death experience. No one deserves to have rest if you were put in such a position to be taken away from them, there is an unspoken lesson amongst the rubble. 

Malleus is not pleased, at all. There isn't a single soul able to speak in his oppressive aura as he broods on his bed. He still attends classes but many wish he would stop as they can practically taste the dirt they'll be buried in as he cascades through the door. The stone under his feet is left cracked as he leads you to the gate.

“Child of man, do not keep me waiting.”

Lilia is more playful in his markings, gleefully making light of the tidal wave of injured students flooding the nurse's office. He's often seen flitting around in the background, plotting with the winds and speaking to the earth. (Or rather something underneath it.) You swear as he drops you off you can feel the tremor of the earth with your feet. 

“Of course this is temporary, so rather than goodbye it's fun!”

Silver is on the outside no different than usual. Sleeping away the days and nights, trapped in slumber and almost looking peaceful. Only Diasomnia s, or the way he sleeps is no longer a refuge but a curse plaguing him as you leave. He drops you off and just like a proper knight promises your safety. 

“If you're in danger please call, I promise I'll answer.”

Sebek insists that the loss of the human isn't at all something that he's concerned about, which is a comical statement as he screeches at the others about their conduct. (because what if you take this as the last image to RSA and god forbid likes them better???) You're the last thing that he assumed he'd swear his loyalty to but he supposes it's fine if Malleus-sama approves of you so don't keep him waiting. 

“I won't forgive you if Malleus- sama is troubled by you so uh- stay safe! That's an order!”

It's not long of course until Azul finds a loophole in the crudely made trade. You had to attend classes there, but it never said there could only be one student in the program. 

#twst x reader #twst x y/n #twst fic #malleus x mc #leona x reader #kalim x reader #riddle x reader #idia x reader #vil x reader #azul x reader #twst headcanons #twst scenarios

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

Hey bestie can u make a eren x reader one shot where eren just won’t let the reader move on🙃

thank u anon for this lovely idea

scumbag!eren x crybaby!fem!reader

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon, past toxic relationship, slut-shaming, possessive behavior, yandere tendencies,

WC: 1.8k

He pins your wrists against the dingy bathroom tiles with an unrelenting grip, and you swear you've never felt more claustrophobic in your life.

The dark-haired boy eyes the glitter on your cheekbones, the neon-colored eyeliner, the rogue on your lips, and the black satin of your mini dress exposing a substantial amount of plush thighs. He's never seen you like this-never allowed you like this before.

You almost feel like uncharted territory but nothing escapes his observant nature. From the tremble of your lips, and the water starting to collect in your lower lash lines, Eren knows this you. Maybe not who you were pretending to be in the strappy heels, low neckline, and the party-girl masquerade you put on in front of your shallow ditzy friends, but he knows who you really are. Vulnerable. Scared of your own shadow.

"E-eren,' You stammer, "Please let me go." You try not to think about the voice cracks, trying to sound as assertive as you could without meeting his eyes. Eren, of course, thinks you look like a baby mouse. Hopeless and trapped.

"Don’t you miss me?" He mummers into the nape of your neck. You have an explosive No prepared in the roof of your mouth, ready to sound out the single syllable, until his hand, adorned with chunky silver rings, covers your mouth, muffling your whimpers. You could taste the metal.

“It’s a rhetorical question.” He’s smirking, green eyes lit up dangerously under the too-white bright lights, “Let me talk okay? I just want you to listen.”

All you’ve ever been doing is letting him walk and talk over you. And then when you finally got the nerve to stand up for yourself-

“I haven’t seen you the past three months” his low voice interrupts your contemplation, “It’s like you’ve been ignoring me.” He finishes flatly, his thin lips stretched into a line. His multitude of ear piercings catches the light, glinting sharply.

It’s too overpowering, his close proximity after going cold turkey. His presence is like a drag of a cigarette after not smoking for months. Hurts your lungs but the remnants of what you used to feel with the sudden rush of nicotine bubbling up again. Because when all is said and done, you’re still deliriously attracted to him. And you hate yourself for it.

You try to focus on the other sensations, sensations that aren’t busy on the feel of his warm breath or his hands holding yours down. You can still hear the song playing from the club.

All my bitches feel like I dodged the county

Fucking with you feel like jail n——-

Yeah, it really did.

Changing tactics, he holds you by your neck instead, giving your aching wrists sweet relief but that relief is nothing compared to the panic of having his beefy hand on your thrumming pulse.

His grasp wasn’t tight. You could breathe, but it was the kind of tight that let you know he would go tighter if you didn’t listen properly. React properly.

“You’re fucking ignoring me again” he’s practically growling the words out, baring all teeth, “I know I’m pretty difficult to tune out, so I would like to know what the fuck you’re thinking about.”

His hand leaves your delicate throat- his knee between your thighs keeps you in place- to roam down the satin of your dress, the fabric clinging to every curve. You hate how scrutinizing his viridian eyes are, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over the previous hot-girl-summer confidence.

He hated how good you looked on the dance floor, laughing with your stupid friends like you had lost all your inhibitions. Hated that you looked so good, everyone could see it. Hated how you didn't notice his eyes boring holes into you. Do you remember the time how you used to be hyper-focused around him? Aware of every movement, aware of every tonal shift?

And now you didn't even look at him.

"Are you thinking of other guys? I saw you grinding on those men like a slut." He presses his body deeper, "Have you fucked any other guys since we broke up? You must have. I know how slutty your pussy is"

You bite down on his hand. Hard.

You're counting on his reflexes, for him to retract his hand and give you an opportunity to run to the door. But Eren has been fighting for years and predicts your maneuver. With a calculated sidestep, Eren lets go of his hand, before promptly slamming you against the bathroom wall again but this time front-first.

Clouds dance in your vision, and you're sure you would have fallen by now if not for him holding you up. Eren uses this newfound position to his advantage by groping your ass, rutting his dick against your backside.

Deciding to be petty, you let the spite-coated venom escape your pretty lips, "Yeah. I fucked so many boys, and they were so much better than y-"

Anger blinded him. Roughly, he turned you around to face him once more, forcing you to look up at the green-eyed monster. He flipped your dress up, nearly ripping it during the process, shoved your lacy panty aside, and plunged his fingers inside. He felt a visceral sense of validation course through him at finding wetness coating his slender fingers to your utter mortification.

"Liar. I know you haven't been fucking anyone else." His smile is all teeth, pearly white and sharp,

You gulp, feeling sweat beading down your neck and arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach. Damn yourself.

"You don't know that."

He looks almost feral, green eyes in slits and hair all mussed up, falling out of his usual bun. The top few buttons of his black button-up are left unfastened giving you a gracious view of his smooth muscular chest, and the dangling silver cross-chain.

"No, I do. See a little birdie told me all you've been doing the past few months is crying yourself to sleep, and eating frozen meals. This is the first time you've been out since I broke up with you, huh?" Condescension drips with every word.

He thumbs away the tear falling down your cheek with a mocking kindness and adds, "There, there. Don't cry. Good thing I happened to be here tonight, right?"

You're full-blown crying now, too upset to care if you're smudging your make-up. This is the real you. This is how Eren remembers you.

"Awe, my precious little crybaby, don't worry. You came here tonight looking for dick? I'll give it to you. It's okay," He coos, breath tickling the shell of your sensitive ears. Well, every part of you felt sensitive right now.

You're rubbing your eyes, sniffling, "E-exactly. You b-broke up with me, so why are you here? Why can't you just let me be?"

The dark-haired boy sighs, and with an uncharacteristic softness, leans his head down to press his forehead against yours, and intertwines his hand with yours, noses almost touching.

"To be honest, it was just to teach you a lesson." A soft exhale, "I didn't think you'd actually stay broken up with me." He's crushing your fingers now, "Didn't think we'd be broken up with for real."

Your eyes flash with indignation, feeling your body surge with an emotion you couldn't qualify, "I don't care. Yeah, I was sad but god, you were a terrible boyfriend! I'm so much better off without you. All those lonely nights are still better than any night I've ever had with you!"

You're breathless by the time you're done.

"Done with your little monologue?"*

You can feel your shoulders shaking, and you almost want to laugh from the indecorousness of it all. How could he not care? Was this how little you mattered to him?

"I know you're lying because" Without any preamble, he shoves his fingers inside of you again, finding that spongy spot that made your knees weak, eliciting a soft moan from your downturned mouth, "You're wet. And you want me."

"In fact," an edge of excitement colors his voice, "I bet your insides are still molded to fit my dick."

It's hard to talk when one thumb is violently brushing over your clit, and his tongue is forced into your mouth, drowning any whines of protests. You close your eyes, focusing and unfocusing. A hand snakes up your dress to fondle your tits and tease your perky nipples.

It's just one sensation over another, and your sex-deprived body was welcoming all these feelings with open arms. Eren knows your body like it came with an instruction manual and that manual advised him to bite your earlobe, which was especially sensitive. He knew where on your collarbone you liked to be marked, how hard you wanted your nipples pinched, and how you could ride his face with complete abandon.

But right now, he didn't want to pleasure you. He's coaxed enough orgasms out of you throughout your relationship.

He unbuckles his belt and frees his long slender cock, the head a flushed angry red, dribbling with precum. He lines his full-mast cock to your entrance. Fully alert as to what was about to happen, pretty pleas of "no Eren, please don't, no" are falling out of your mouth, wide starlit eyes dotted with pearlescent tears. He kisses the top of your head like the way he always used to.

And then he thrusts himself inside. You give up so easily, he thinks. Do you even realize how you're swinging your hips on your own accord? How you're wrapping your lush legs around his waist to pull him deeper?

His pace is ruthless, making your head bob up and down. Moans and grunts drown out the music from the club. You're begging him to slow down.

"You're mine. Always mine. Always were. Can't fucking believe you really thought-" He doesn't even finish his thought because a violent shudder rips throughout his body.

Your nails are digging into his back, so sharp it could have been clawed. You could feel yourself right on the edge-

The door shakes to reveal a tall young man with slicked-back blond hair with a frat-boy laugh.

"Holy shit! Eren?!"

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkcufkcufckfuckfuckfuckfuc

Shame burns your face. You have no choice but to cover yourself behind Eren's broad frame. You're just hoping to every god he'll go away, and keep this to himself.

Your dark-haired ex-boyfriend turns around to face the blond, "A little busy here, Porco. Shut the door. I'm uh, getting reacquainted with someone."

"Goddamn. Is that ___" You don't even have to look at Porco to recognize how impressed he was.

"Get out Porco." Eren growls.

The door closes with a loud thud.

You're borderline hysterical at this point begging Eren to get out of you, but his grip on your hips is iron-tight.

Outside you hear stunned gasps, but one phrase stands out to your straining ears: "Yeah, I guess they're back together."

Eren kisses the top of your head once more, "After I fuck you, we'll go home together girlfriend."

----------

* {A/N}: This line "Done with your little monologue?" is inspired by this delicious fic by @hotwings0203.

#yandere eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #toxic eren #eren yeager x reader fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #dubcon tw #tw noncon

[itcanbegoodagain]

What I would want Peeta to say and do to me if I was Katniss, is how I think this deserves to be summed up.

Word Count: 1971

Rating: 18+. Mature, but not explicit. Sexytimes after the break.

Sliding down into the tub, I allow the sweet smell of the soap to engulf me, my eyes falling shut as the warm water creeps up my skin. My aching muscles relax, the tension seeping out of them as quickly as it appeared. The first week or two of hunting in the snow is always harder than I’m anticipating it to be. But I’ll be just fine.

I know Peeta’s home when I hear his gait on the creaking, wooden stairs. Deciding to stay put, I wait for him to find me in the bathroom. He’s home a little early today. Oh, lucky wife am I.

And, truly, I am. There is no better man out there than Peeta. So when he gently knocks on the door, I smile to myself. “You can come in.” My head falls back to rest on the lip of the tub, providing me with a better vantage point to see him.

The door pushes open slowly, and Peeta steps through, shutting the door behind him. Not necessary, since we’re the only ones that live in this house. But no complaints here. Just observations.

“Hi baby,” he says, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. There is a slight uptilt to his lips, one that usually indicates a particular line of thinking. I wonder what I’m in for.

I take this chance to stare at him, lazily moving my gaze head to toe, as I know he is sizing me up, too. I avoid the urge to shift my legs together too soon, anticipating the exquisite touch of his hands that’s sure to come.

He’s wearing his normal dark-wash trousers, a long-sleeved shirt in lieu of his usual attire. The tip of his nose is just the littlest bit red. The snow gets to bakers, too, then. Briefly, I wonder what the cold of his nose would feel like while his lips make their way up my thighs. I do know how his body feels, though, as I take in the way his shirt hugs in all the perfect places.

“Hi baby,” I repeat back softly, not wanting to raise my voice too much for fear of bursting this liminal moment we’ve created. It could go very different ways. I know which way I want it to go, and if I know anything about him, I know what he wants, too.

Neither of us moves to break eye contact. Peeta does, however, slowly peel off the counter, walking around the end of the tub to kneel on the ground next to me. His arms rise up to rest on the edge, his fingertips barely brushing the water.

We haven’t lost eye contact this entire time, so when he licks his lips and says what he does next, I am malleable. Pliable. Putty, in his hands only.

“You look very beautiful today,” he says. Normal words, predictable words, but the way he says it - the way he looks at me as he says it - mouthwatering.

Desperation. That’s the thing in my throat that won’t let any other words get out. Desperation to touch, to be touched, which I can see reflected in Peeta’s face, the slight trembling of his fingers.

“You know, these bathrooms really are too large. Look, I take up only half the tub!” I tell him.

He grins. “I have to disagree. There’s only room for one kickass woman in the tub.”

I hum. Trail my fingers, dripping warm water, through my hair. “Too bad. That kickass woman was hoping she’d have someone come join her.”

This is what really catches him. His voice, usually honey-sweet, is strained, just enough to be noticeable. “In that case, I think I might know someone.”

I take a deep breath, surveying him for another moment. “Well, tell him to come my way.”

With that in the air, he finally, finally kisses me. Kisses me with the force of someone who’s been holding back just long enough that they’re about to splinter. His fingers, the tips wet from resting in the water, find their way into my hair, his thumb tilting my head up beneath the chin. Already, he is biting and tugging at my lip with his teeth, which is one of the things he’s best at. Or maybe I just like it.

The kiss is both quenching and provoking. Yes, I finally can taste the love and lust on his lips, but it only makes me want him more. That’s how it works with us. Has since basically day one, though I was blind to it for a while.

Peeta stops for a moment, close enough that we are still sharing the same air. “How can I help you, my dear?” he asks, voice more rattled than before, as one of his hands dips into the water. His fingers find and, gently, scratch along the sensitive skin at my knee. I shiver, despite the warm water. He grins, noticing the gooseflesh that’s appeared on my skin at his mere touch.

A sharp intake of breath fills my lungs, and it takes me a moment to answer. “First, you’re in an unfair amount of clothes.”

He nods his head, pulling his arm out of the water to grab the hem of his shirt and yank it off, the cuff damp where the water had almost reached the sleeve after he rolled it up. His trousers quickly follow, though his undershorts stay on for now. “What else?”

In response, I stand up, careful not to send water pouring over the edge. Peeta stands as well, reaching over to grab a towel and stepping closer to wrap it around me. His hands pause on my shoulders, holding the towel in place around me. He raises his eyebrows. Next?

I send him the best, most flirty smile I can muster. It's never been my strong suit. Then I remove the towel, allowing him to keep it. The moment he realizes my intentions, it’s discarded to the floor, easily and gladly forgotten. In his eyes, I can tell he wants to touch me, desperately, but I make him wait just a little longer.

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, one of such need and desire, that it sends a flash of pride through me. Turning a man on is so much more fun than I ever thought it could be. It makes you feel powerful, even if it’s just one person for one moment.

But with Peeta, there are so many moments like that. He praises, he worships me, but it’s never over the top. It is always in the actions: letting me fall asleep in his lap, leaving breakfast on the table, placing kisses along my skin after I have been well and truly tumbled. Doing as much as he can to please me. Yes, indeed. I am a lucky wife.

After I’ve planted myself on the bathroom counter, the edge lining up dangerously with the part of me that is Peeta’s next destination, he is on his knees again. He begins his ministrations slowly, each brush of his fingers or lips on my skin like an electric shock. My skin is so, so sensitive, and he is so, so gentle. There’s nothing better.

By the time he reaches my knees, he has scooted closer, his shoulderblades now between my legs to give him the proper access he requires. Each touch of his mouth to my skin makes it harder not to move, but I try my best. As he nears the top of my thighs, he takes one leg and throws it over his shoulder, carelessly, I would say, if it were anyone else.

“So,” he begins, frequently pausing to occupy his mouth in less talkative ways, “there is so much time left, so many things to do.” His tongue traces a thin line up the most sensitive part of my inner thigh. I gasp, eyes falling shut, hips beginning to squirm. One of his hands pushes back on my hipbone, his fingertips pressing into the skin just hard enough to leave marks. Marks for him to see, later. Maddening. “Where shall I begin?”

I realize, maybe two seconds too late, that he is genuinely asking. “Katniss, baby,” he continues, his rough voice sounding heavenly from between my legs. “Tell me how to help.” To emphasize his point, he flips my other leg over his shoulder, effectively trapping himself between and beneath me.

I gasp again, trying to get the words out. In a moment of clarity, I’m able to string together these words: “Kiss me.”

He hums, running his hands over my hips, back and forth. “From down here?”

Smartass. “Not on my lips,” I manage.

He grins, a fiercely boyish grin that I sometimes forget he’s capable of. “I see. Well, since you asked so nicely…”

I choke out a laugh. “Right. As if you didn’t come home with it already in mind.”

He laughs too, but doesn’t allow it to linger for long. “You got me there.” He says this one moment, and the next, his face is hidden and his mouth and tongue are doing such extraordinary things, and, god, his nose -

Well. I hit the nail on the head with that one.

My fingers curl into his hair, urging him on as I push him closer. I can feel his grin, so I give a sharp tug on the hair I have in hand as recompense. This pulls another sound out of his throat, a gasp out of his mouth. Both feel lovely, situated where he is. So I continue to pull at his hair when he needs some humbling.

It's breathless, it's wonderful, it's only the beginning. I'm trembling, grateful to be sitting, as he makes his way up my body. Lingering kisses on my hips, along my stomach, up my chest. He stays at my neck for a while, paying particular attention there, surely leaving behind bruises that can easily be covered by a turtleneck in this cool weather.

--

A good chunk of time passes before I'm able to drag his lips back to mine, feeling like I might die if I don't get to kiss him right this second. He happily obliges, as he knows that he is good with his mouth. In several different regards. But who's keeping track? Certainly, certainly not me.

My hands, itching to touch his skin, smooth down his shoulders, wrapping around his back, pulling him even closer. Now, he is standing again, my legs circling his waist. Our bodies are pressed together at their most intimate places, though his undershorts are still on. Slowly, I run one of my hands down his side, making sure to take my time, before sliding the tips of my fingers below his waistband. I don't move them, I don't try to take his boxers off, I just let them rest there. Let Peeta give me this incredulous, sex-addled smirk.

"Yes?" I ask. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. I'm just thinking..." he trails off for a moment, leaving me to fill in the blank. "Well, you know, it's not only the tubs that are too big for one person. The showers are, too. Haven't you noticed?"

Tapping my chin, I pretend to ponder his question. "Truly? I haven't. Do you care to show me?"

He swoops in for another kiss, this one full of teeth and lips and pressure. He steals my breath away. "Gladly," he says, grinning, hauling me off the counter.

With a quick turn of the knobs, the warm spray of water begins falling from the shower head, and, truthfully, there is no way to describe what happens next. No way to describe it other than really, really good sex.

#everlark #katniss and peeta #peeta mellark #thg series #ficlet #oneshot #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #post mockingjay #canon compliant #i love peeta #please give me a peeta #i don't ask for a lot in this life #fluff #everlark smut

[luminnara]

It’s Been A Long, Long Time | Alpha!Bucky x Omega! reader Part 2

Summary: When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part one | Part two | Part three |

Warnings: NSFW, Knotting, ABO

Tags: @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch

The soldier’s rut seemed to come around on a perfect schedule. Like clockwork, every few months Amoretta would be pulled out of her usual living space and sent to the rutting cell to wait for him. Sometimes, he came in smelling fresh and clean, like they had just hosed him down. Other times, he was covered in dirt and blood, most of which didn’t seem to be his own. She didn’t care; her heart soared every time she heard his heavy boots stomping towards her, and she always faced him with a confident, even gaze. 

They would spend his rut together, the soldier knotting her over and over until it passed. He grew bolder with her, showing her affection she never thought he was capable of. He would carefully lay her down on her side so that he could curl around her, waiting for his knot to go down so that he could start all over again. His hands became increasingly gentle, calloused fingertips brushing over her folds carefully as he tried to pull those beautiful moans out of her throat. 

He often succeeded; Amoretta woke up to his touch more times than she could count, her thighs already trembling as he played with her clit. The soldier was good at getting her ready for him, though she was almost always prepared to take his cock anyways. Her body responded to him eagerly, slick always pooling between her legs whenever he was nearby. She couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like if HYDRA didn’t have her on so many heat suppressants. 

Even without her hormones raging, she was falling for him. He was big and strong and protective, always putting himself between her and the guards whenever they appeared in the doorway. If it weren’t for his trigger words, Amoretta was positive he would tear them apart before they even got close to her. Did that mean he felt the same way about her, too? Or was she just being a silly omega, stuck in a cold series of tunnels, latching onto the only alpha she was ever permitted contact with? 

She couldn’t tell. 

She didn’t really care.

All she knew was that she wanted him. She had begun looking forward to his ruts, and by the end of her first year in captivity, her body had begun being able to predict when they were coming without the use of a calendar. It was like waking up on Christmas Day, excitement flooding her while she waited for the guards to come let her out of her cell. It always put her in a good mood, knowing that she was about to see the one person who seemed to care about her in that godforsaken place.

And he did. 

He cared.

Whenever he saw her, the soldier felt his chest swelling with happiness. There were no bond marks on either of them, but she was his, and she knew it. His omega knew that he was there to keep her safe. He was driven by a simple urge to take care of her whenever he saw her, his need to protect her always taking over his mind. She was so much smaller than him, but she took him so well and fit so perfectly against his chest when they laid together. He never wanted it to end. 

“Alpha?” She asked one night, voice barely louder than a whisper. 

His knot had gone down a little while earlier, but he was too exhausted by a full day of fucking to go at it again yet. Instead, he was dozing, an arm draped over her protectively while she snuggled up against his chest. 

“Hm?” He grunted, cracking an eye open. 

“Do you…” she sighed. “Never mind.”

He was fully awake now, both eyes open as he looked at her. “Do I what?”

She bit her lip, feeling stupid. “Do you think we would be together outside of this place?”

He was silent as he thought about it. He didn’t know anything other than HYDRA. Shit, he had never stopped to wonder if there was anything other than HYDRA. Did he have a life besides killing? He had no memory of it, if he did. 

“I’m sorry, it’s dumb.” Amoretta said, burying her face against his chest. “Forget it.”

“‘Mega,” his chest rumbled with the word. “It’s not dumb.”

“Then why didn’t you answer?” She huffed. 

He snorted quietly. There it was again. That brazen attitude she always had. 

“Because...I don’t remember anything outside of this.” He finally said. 

Amoretta looked at him. “Nothing at all?”

“It’s always been HYDRA.” He didn’t sound too concerned.

She frowned. “Well...if it wasn’t. If we were just two normal people.”

“Normal?”

“You know.” She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Just...two people, living in a city—“

“New York.” He interrupted quietly.

She paused. “New York?”

“A city. To live in.” He said. “New York.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. Why would he choose New York? It was a large city, to be sure, but it seemed out of character for him to interrupt with something like that, especially considering that they were currently being kept somewhere under Eastern Europe. They were as far away from the States as they could get, and she had expected to be talking about someplace like Paris, or Moscow, or Berlin. 

She knew the soldier was someone HYDRA had captured a while ago, which meant he had to have had some sort of life before they pumped him full of the serum. Could this be part of it? Was he...remembering? If he was, she wanted to know more. All HYDRA used her for was getting their asset through his ruts, so she had plenty of time to think, and plenty more time to be curious. The most interesting thing in the compound with her was him, and she had spent hours just wondering about him. This could be her chance to actually get him talking about something other than rutting, and she wanted to encourage more.

“Okay, New York.” She said, a reassuring hand on his arm. “What part?”

He thought for a moment, trying to concentrate. “Brooklyn.”

“Why Brooklyn?”

The soldier shrugged. “Heard about it. I think.”

“Never been there?”

“...I don’t know.” 

“Hmph.” She played with a strand of his dark hair. “If we lived in Brooklyn, what kind of life would we have?”

“A house,” he said. 

“We’d have a house?” 

He nodded, his nose finding the scent gland on her neck and rubbing against it. “Filled with lots...and lots...of pups…”

Her heart skipped a beat and she immediately felt heat coiling around in her belly. She couldn’t help it; she was pre programmed to get excited at the concept of being bred. Even without her heats, the thought filled her chest with butterflies. 

“Wanna breed you…” his voice pulled her back to reality. 

Amoretta licked her lips, grinning. “Then breed me, Alpha.”

He let out a playful growl, somehow finding the strength to roll her onto her front and grab her hips. He held onto her tightly enough to leave little red marks, but he never had to worry; she was strong. She was made for him. He knew that she could take whatever he gave her.

“Want my knot?” The soldier asked, toying with her wet folds for a few moments before he shoved his cock inside of her. 

“Y-yes, Alpha!” She squealed, pussy immediately tightening around him. She had grown so used to his size by now, she hardly even needed any preparation to take him. Her body accepted his girth eagerly, wanting nothing more than to feel his knot catching on her.

He groaned appreciatively as he began thrusting in and out of her, setting a lazy pace for himself. “‘M gonna fill you up, Omega...gonna fill you up, get you nice and pupped…”

Her cheeks were flushed as she listened to him, skin burning as her alpha fucked her. She loved the sound of his voice. She loved everything about him. 

“Please,” she moaned, melting down against the sheets. 

“Yeah?” He let go of her hips, moving both hands to hold her ass. He gave it a squeeze, chest rumbling happily at the feeling of so much supple flesh in his grip. “Fuck, omega...my pretty ‘mega…”

She sighed happily, her pussy squeezing his cock as a little orgasm fluttered through her. He was good at that, and giving her those tiny little ones every so often with nothing but his words. 

He snarled at the feeling. He wanted more. 

A metal hand snaked around her front, finding her clit and rubbing it roughly. She immediately cried out, surprised by the sudden stimulation, and it wasn’t long before her thighs were shaking and she was a moaning, crying mess underneath her soldier. How did he know what to do? Why did he even care if she got off, when she was only there to please him? 

He had to be more than just a flesh and bone HYDRA machine. She knew he had to be.

As she tipped over the edge, he followed close behind, his breath hot on the back of her neck as he bit into her shoulder. The pain felt dull, despite his massive fangs tearing into her. It always did; Amoretta was never worried about it, often sporting bruises and bite marks after her soldier mounted her. With the quickened healing abilities her body now had, nothing lasted very long before fading anyways. 

She wished they would stick around, though. She wanted to feel claimed. 

She felt his knot swelling and she sighed happily, slumping down onto the cot as he pressed his chest against her back. He began lazily licking at her shoulder, swiping his tongue over the bloody wound to soothe it. 

“One day,” he grumbled, “One day, ‘m gonna mark you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. 

“Wh-what?” She asked, looking back at him. 

He nodded, sure of himself. “You’re my omega. An’ one day, I’m gonna make sure everybody knows.”

—

How many years did she spend there, in HYDRA’S compounds? After the first, it was easy to lose track. She was kept on a monotonous schedule that consisted of a few feedings a day, exercise sessions, and the occasional “doctor’s visit.” Those always just meant that her suppressants were being increased, as her body was growing steadily angrier about them. She was building up a tolerance, the doctor said, and they would simply have to keep ramping up her dosage. 

She dared to ask why they couldn’t just let her have heats like normal, and the answer was simply that they didn’t have the facilities ready to raise super soldier pups. The thought of being separated from her own offspring mortified her; it was bad enough that she was always so far away from her alpha, and she knew she couldn’t bear to give up her pups for some twisted HYDRA program. 

So she shut up, and learned to deal with the side effects of the suppressants. They made her constantly nauseous, not enough to make her vomit, but definitely enough that she was uncomfortable all day. As her dosage increased, so did her headaches, and there were moments she considered begging the doctors to take her off of them so that she could feel at least some relief. 

But she knew that would be a bad idea. She had to continue acting like she had absolutely no interest in returning to her normal heat cycle, or else risk HYDRA thinking about how quickly they could get things ready to start a new super soldier program. Amoretta wanted to keep their minds off of it for as long as she possibly could, and it seemed like she was successful; it never came up during her visits to the lab, the doctors seeming much more focused on how to keep her from getting pregnant at all. 

It was for the best. She knew that. But part of her whined and yearned to be allowed to start a little family with her alpha, even though he hadn’t given her a bond mark. With every rut she spent with him, she felt herself growing more and more comfortable at his side, wishing more and more that they were normal people. She wanted to live that life in Brooklyn with him, to smell fresh air again instead of the recycled oxygen they pumped through the compound. 

Sometimes, Amoretta was moved to different facilities. They were always underground, always just as gray and dingy as all the others. The guards always tranquilized her in order to transport her, and she would wake up in a similar, yet different cell from the last, groggy and even more nauseous than usual. She figured they were moving both her and the soldier around, depending on where they wanted to send him off on missions. She just wished that she could go outside once in a while, too. 

One night, she got her chance. 

She woke up early, her body fighting off the tranquilizer she had been given. She could tell that she was in a cramped, dark transport crate, moonlight filtering in through the air holes on the top of it. Fresh air was coming in, too, the scent of grass and pine filling her nose. It smelled so delicious that she was gulping in lungfulls, immediately shifting to press her face up against one of the holes. 

It was small, barely large enough for her to see out of it, but she could spot a few twinkling stars up above her. 

She wanted more. 

The crate was heavy, reinforced with metal bars meant to keep her in and the soldier out, but she was determined. She hadn’t seen the outdoors in...shit, decades? 

A few good kicks was all it took before she was scrambling out, bare toes digging into the dirt as she stood and looked around. She was in the middle of nowhere, it seemed, a few trucks idling nearby as HYDRA workers moved supplies into the compound. 

As soon as they noticed her, she ran, sprinting off into the trees. She could hear shouting behind her, but she didn’t stop, too excited by the feeling of the wind against her bare skin. The night air was cool and refreshing, and as she skidded to a stop at the edge of a field, she could hardly believe she was really outside.

Turning her eyes up to the sky, she let out a happy gasp. The moon was full and bright, an entire galaxy of stars twinkling in the inky blackness of space. Amoretta hadn’t realized how much she missed it. 

Heavy footsteps drew her attention away from the stars, but she didn’t turn to look. She could smell her alpha approaching, his scent seeming more curious than angry now that he had found her. He was alone, free of the entourage of guards she had expected to come after her. 

“Omega,” he growled, his low voice rumbling. 

“Look at them,” she sighed.

He stepped up next to her, his side brushing hers. “At what?” His blue eyes were scanning the treeline, searching for anything that could be threatening his omega. When he found nothing, he tilted his head to look down at her curiously. “What is it?”

“The stars,” she sighed again.

Stars? 

He watched her face for a moment, surprised to find her smiling up at the sky. When he finally followed her gaze, he paused to admire the stars. He never really did that, did he? Whenever HYDRA let him out, he was sent with strict orders. There was never any time for stargazing. Though...it was nice, and the look on his omega’s face was even nicer. 

“That’s Ursa Major,” she said, pointing up to a collection of stars. “See? It’s a bear.”

The soldier snorted. “I don’t see a bear.”

“Then look harder.”

She glanced over to see him actually squinting, the lower half of his face obscured by the black mask he wore on missions. The sight made her laugh, quiet giggles quickly turning into full, hearty laughter that had her gripping her sides. There he was, a huge, terrifying super soldier, the most dangerous assassin in the world, and he was trying to figure out constellations. 

“What?” his head whipped around to look down at her.

“N-nothing,” she giggled. 

He gave her an exasperated look. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I might be.” she nudged his side with her shoulder. “You’re just...cute. That’s all.”

She could see him raise an eyebrow. “Cute?”

“Mhm. You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you outside of a rut.” she leaned against him, looking up with big doe eyes. “I like it.”

His chest puffed up a little as he looked down at her. “You do?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” his throat rumbled with a low purr. “I have to take you back now.”

She deflated with a sigh. “Already?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Not safe out here.”

“There’s nothing out here scarier than you, Alpha.”

His purr grew louder, a little more smug. “You’re right. But I have orders.”

“Can we stay for just another minute?” she pleaded. “Then you can drag me back.”

The soldier considered her offer. He really did enjoy watching her gaze up at the stars, and he had no idea when he would get this chance again. “...Fine.”

Amoretta smiled. “Thank you, Alpha.”

His arm found its way around her waist, pulling her up against him. “You like stars, omega?”

“I used to sit outside and look at them every night back home,” she said. “Well, when it was clear.”

“Back home?”

She nodded. “I grew up in this quaint little village, tucked away in the mountains...at the foot of the alps.”

He cocked his head. Something about the alps...it felt like there was a memory nudging at the back of his mind, but he didn’t know why. Maybe he had gone there on a mission? HYDRA was good at always wiping his memory between outings. It was hard to tell where he had been. 

“Let’s go.” he said, suddenly uncomfortable. 

Amoretta didn’t resist as he scooped her up, instead resting her cheek against his chest and trying to surround herself with his scent while he walked. She could tell that something was bothering him, but with no idea what, and with him nearing the HYDRA base, there was little she could do to try and pry it out of him. 

She would just have to wait and try again during his next rut.

#alpha bucky #alpha bucky barnes #abo #omegaverse #it's been a long long time #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #avengers x reader #avengers x oc

[florencwrites]

ignoring is bliss 〚technoblade〛

in which [reader] struggles with her lover's inconsequent affection, and a good talk is unfortunately inevitable; the silent treatment has never worked well with techno.

"I don't know what you want me to say." His back had still been turned towards me at this point, the rake heavy in my hands as I tried using it to steady myself in the muddy stable. He kept loading dirty plucks of hay onto his pitchfork, the thinly lined buttoned shirt he was wearing easily letting his back muscles shine through.

I stood silently behind him, deliberating my words thoroughly. I hated when he acted like this, I absolutely despised him. He was one of the smartest men I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, however, the second things went sideways conversation-wise he always played it painfully personally. He would start correcting my grammar or suggest synonyms for otherwise satisfactory sentences. "I don't either."

"I guess that marks the end of this conversation." He turned around to dump his gathered muck in the makeshift wheelbarrow Phil had built us. His face was hard, his brows furrowed and his features lax. He seemed indifferent, his attitude scaring me to pieces.

"Tech, please." I tried, putting one of my hands up to gesture for him to stop walking. He was now barely lifting the barrow from the ground, ready to head off to the dump. He huffed, his eyes meeting the floor as he put the wagon down. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"I'm sorry," I muttered softly.

He ducked to grip his hands around the handles again, lifting it from the ground. His knuckles were white where they held onto the leather-covered grips. "Speak up."

"I want to have a conversation with you, okay? Stop acting so fucking stuck up and talk to me." His shoulder brushed past mine as he exited the stables, my voice was high in emotions, definitely on the verge of breaking with desperation.

He snorted. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say when you've calmed down."

-

"He won't talk to me, Phil." I groaned almost obnoxiously loud, taking a sip of water to wash down both my dinner and my agitation. "You know how he gets."

"All pissy? Tell me about it." He chuckled softly, his forearm shielding his bowl from my sight. He shoveled another spoonful of beef stew into his mouth. Phil and I had never been extraordinarily close, he reckoned Techno and me to be undeserving of each other. A terrible pair. And perhaps we were, at times like this I couldn't help but doubt whether or not we truly were the destined lovers we often thought ourselves to be. "I'll bring him some food later."

I laughed at him, a father at heart. A father to anyone but his actual sons, really. A playful grin on my lips, "You're an enabler, Phil."

-

That night I crawled into an empty bed. One I hadn't even doubted would be just that; empty. He was weak like that, he'd do anything to avoid conflict. Whether that was because he was afraid of what his blinding rage fits would conjure, or whether he was just an impotent coward. Someone who didn't know how to act around uncertainty and immorality and thus resorted to blaming everything on his treacherous temper.

The sheets still smelled of him, I held them to my nose.

There was no reason for us to fight, I hadn't meant to start one. I simply wanted him to realize how different he acted towards me when surrounded by any crowd. He acted so distant it made me doubt not only us, but myself. My heart ached anytime he pulled his hand away from where I tried leaving him a subtle touch. My skin crawled when he no longer referred to me by the mild, but unmissably warm names he had for me.

However, nothing would ever hurt me as much as meeting his eyes in a room of our friends and seeing the love seep from his irises. Physically witnessing his affection turn into nothing short of mere acquaintance.

Everyone knew us. There was no reason for him to act so cold, so distant. Though, I also recognized that perhaps there was an underlying reason. One I simply hadn't thought of, or perhaps one that I couldn't ever imagine. One that he had retained from his troublesome past.

The thing is, it hurt me to think he didn't trust me enough with his reasoning. That he didn't want to tell me about his thoughts. I'd been extremely careful and meticulous with any information he'd granted me, I was sure to never let what he told me change my opinion of him. I vowed to never look at him any different.

So, why could he not promise me the same?

-

There was no point in pushing myself from my sheets the next morning. I knew how long his episodes usually lasted, I wouldn't even have to try talking to him for at least two more days. Normally, I'd try, though. I'd sit in the grass right next to where he was working outside, just talking to him about anything and everything I could think of. Back then I thought for his silence to mean confusion, I thought his swirling mind simply needed a break. That a distraction would do him good.

I sat in the barely-molten grass for hours, never getting a reply.

His smell was constricting my airways slowly, every inhale making it harder and harder to breathe. What if Phil was right, what if he truly didn't love me, or not anymore at least? What if it was all an act to have a warm body to fall asleep next to, to have an extra set of hands around the cottage.

I kicked at the sheets, desperate to get them away from me, to get them from clinging to my sweaty body. I only tangled my legs further into the mess. The bed creaked loudly against the wooden floor of the attic, a gust of wind running through a small gap in the roof.

I shot up, finally being able to rid my body of the sheets. I huffed a few times, the annoyance getting the better of me. I slung my legs over the side of the bed, now just sitting on the wooden frame, letting my eyes wander over the walls. The pictures of us that were tightly tacked to the planks, photos of our favorite pets and our best of friends. Photos of us with Phil and Tommy, and even a stray photo of me and Wilbur, back when we were kids.

My gaze found its way towards the singular window behind our bed, the only one of two walls that weren't entirely slanted. His red robe stood out like a sore thumb in the feeble blanket of slushy snow that had been slowly accumulating over the course of the night. Summer was officially over once again, and the cold would soon make it so we could no longer afford to sleep alone.

He rarely wore his robe outside of special occasions, he usually would simply opt for one of his brown ones. One was trimmed with a thick deer fur, the leather on it sure to keep all frost out. The other one was his summer one, the more dirty one of the two. It was always stained with blood, since it would also be the one he went hunting with. He disliked hunting in the winter, the harsh winds and easily discernible prints made it no fun, according to him. He stacked up during the summer, drying his meats to allow them to be kept safe for months, if not years.

But now he was wearing his red robe, lined with the finest of polar bear fur. The one that had the special compartments for his potions, and the one I had sown a totem into. For good luck. He rarely wore it for any occasion but war.

He pushed himself from the ground, turning around swiftly; the velocity making his cape whisk dramatically up in the wind. His eyes seemed fixated on the ground until they unwarrantedly shot up to the window I was sitting at. Any other day, I would've averted my gaze. Not now. He knew I was staring, and he was allowed to know so. I held my eyes on him until his feet carried him out of sight, into the house. I sighed softly, I felt entirely forlorn without him, without his caring hands and loving eyes. I let myself fall back into the bed, cuddling the sheets once again as I curled away from the entrance. I reckoned he would have to change out of his robe soon, and I didn't want to face him when he did.

-

I heard the front door slam, and as predicted the rungs of the many ladders soon creaked in his hold. The worn, practically ancient, trapdoor was pushed ajar behind me. I couldn't be bothered to turn to meet his eyes. However, instead of quietly changing out of his clothes, I felt the bed dip. He sat on the side of it, much alike to how I had found myself just minutes before.

"I don't like feeling weak." His voice was rougher than usual, it kept its usual monotone aura, but for some reason, it felt more emotional than ever before. He cleared his throat as if to try and mask it, to no avail, "I don't love you any less."

I shifted in the bed, though, he quickly stopped me, "Don't look at me, that just makes it harder."

I obliged. He let out a trembling sigh, taking his sweet time to deliberate his next words, "Sometimes we are outside together and I'm afraid that when they see how much I care about you, they will realize that you make me weak." I stared at the wall, still curled into the blankets. I wanted nothing more than to hold his face, look at him as he spoke. Instead, I had to make do with the pictures of his face plastered on the wood. His pointy, flappy ears and peaked nose. The two sharp-looking fangs set in the corners of his lips, ones that seemed to disappear when he smiled. He didn't like smiling for pictures, I didn't have a single one of the two of us together where he smiled. The only ones that showed his beautiful pearly whites were the ones that had me behind the camera, something I only then realized might've not been a coincidence.

"It scares me to think they could hurt you for loving me, that's why I don't like holding your hand in town." I shot a quick look over my shoulder, his back was slouched over, his head in his hands with his elbows propped on his knees. He wasn't crying, he simply seemed lost."I never realized that what scares me even more is the idea of you not loving me at all."

I slowly crept from under the sheets as his words fell silent. I crawled over towards where he was sat, near the foot-end of the bed. I took one of his hands from where he had rested his face on it and pulled it out of the way.

I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling my body into his. I draped my legs over his lap as I held him. His built arms felt tender against my exposed back, however, he held me tight. He squeezed softly as another quivering breath escaped his lips. We sat in embrace for a while.

"That's all I asked for, Tech." I smiled into his neck. "I just wanted to talk, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"Shut up." He playfully tried pushing me away from his torso, underestimating the power of my cling. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

#angst #fluff #fight #argument #technoblade #oneshot #one shot #kit harington imagine #florenc #dreamsmp #dream smp #dsmp #dteam #dream team #dreamteam #dreamwastaken #dream #sapnap #georgenotfound #wilbur soot #wilbursoot #fanfic #fanfiction #youtube] #twitch #mcyt #minecraft #au