#and returns to heaven and thus out of their hair

[ajcrawly]

I reckon aziraphale would have let Gabriel (Jim) jump out the window and that would have been reasonably sensible and indeed sexy of him

#he’s an archangel after all #amnesiac or no #worst case scenario he gets discorporated #and returns to heaven and thus out of their hair #I understand tv Crowley being all queasy about the implication of Jim #who does not know this #being willing to jump out of a (2nd? 3rd?) floor window #but I really do think aziraphale would have been like oh ok bet

[ddollipop]

CURB THIS SICKNESS. . . ! — ( SOFT YANDERE!PLAGUE DOCTOR OC X READER. )

#. synopsis! — there's a virus outside that's snuffed out the lights of many. . . and lucian refuses to let you meet such a miserable fate .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , multiple orgasms , vaginal fingering , implications of paranoia , cum swallowing , oral sex , cunnilingus , blowjob , vaginal sex , obsessive behavior , frequent usage of endearment terms (love, darling, angel) , missionary position , bathing , established relationship , slight choking , slight hair pulling , creampie , biting .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

#. oc carrd! — click here to find more information on lucian + other original characters of mine that i might write for in the future! xx .

When the virus began to spread in all directions from its alleged location of origin, —you were certain you’d be dead before winter. If not from sickness, then certainly from another disease, or at the hands of some twisted maniac just searching for someone to slaughter that nobody would care enough to miss. You thought it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to hunger or thirst or the changing chill of autumn, or maybe something completely different: but something was bound to happen, and you were sure of it.

And it did. . . But it was nothing like what you had in mind.

Lucian may have seemed like something out of a horror story passed down through generations, still clad in his working attire the night he scooped you up in his arms from a shabby alleyway like a stray kitten, but he was surprisingly gentle (and perhaps unusually quiet.) He wasn’t very talkative, but he cared for you in a way you were completely unaccustomed to, —prepared you a warm meal, brewed you chamomile tea, ran you a hot bath, and gave you a place to sleep for the night. He said you were slightly fevered and a bit malnourished, but all things considered, it could have been worlds worse.

“You’re lucky,” he hummed, a gloved hand smoothing over your jaw, “the pestilence hasn’t taken hold of you.”

Even back then, that wasn’t why you felt lucky. . . No, much to the contrary, you felt lucky because this man had taken you in without expecting anything of you in return, and he sought to keep you safe from the rot of the outside world. Thus, little by little, you stopped caring much about going out there. 

His place is a bit quaint for two, but it’s homey, and it smells perpetually of lavender. Over time, he’s shifted the sleeping arrangements, and now you rest in his arms each night; about as close as one can get to being a lover without having the label.

A part of you is sure you could get it if you asked, but to you, it doesn’t matter much. At the end of each day, he comes home to you, and that’s what counts. You take care of the housework while he’s away (not that there’s ever much to do.) For as odd as he is, his living space is free of most things, —no trinkets unrelated to his work (which you are not keen on touching), and he’s meticulous about picking up after himself and keeping all his items in order, so your unofficial duties are few and far between. Otherwise, the rest boils down to cooking meals, washing clothes, and keeping yourself entertained while he’s away. . . Like some kind of glorified trophy wife.

And sure, this will probably get old eventually, but for now, this is what you’re working with. He likes to have you close and to know where you are, —to know that you’re safe and not out getting infected by anyone or anything. If you’re at his home, you’re safe from all the filth of the outside world, and heaven knows it’s so nice to come home and lie next to a body so utterly unmarred by the grime of society.

You’re sure once the virus has stilled, he’ll ease up.

But tonight is not that night. Lucian all but stumbles through the door, and you can hear his rapid breathing through the long, beak-like shape of his mask. He seems startled and frantic, and you rush over, a concerned expression crossing your features.

“Lucian? Are you alright?” You ask, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

In an instant, he snatches your wrist and grabs for the other, holding one in either hand. His grip is fervent, but far from painful, and you become more confused the longer he goes without explaining the state he’s found himself in.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he cuts you off, “you mustn’t get near the door.”

“Okay,” you nod in compliance, “but why?”

“The pestilence has taken hold of this city,” he replies. “The air out there, you wouldn’t believe the thickness of that putrid aroma. It’s suffocating.”

Before you can ask if there’s something you can do to quench his worries, he tugs you away from the entrance and into the bathroom. He removes his gloves and sets them aside, reaching down to begin running a warm bath. Then he looks to you, almost expectantly.

“Strip, please,” he encourages, —saying it like he’s desperate for the act, albeit not necessarily under the context you’d prefer of him.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he hisses, “please, do as I ask of you.”

His bare hands cup your cheeks.

“Please,” he repeats.

It’s hard to deny him when he asks like that and has been so good to you, and it’s not as if he’s asking for a lot. He’s just having a bad night, and if scrubbing yourself down will help ease his mind a bit, you’re willing to put in that sliver of extra effort for his sake.

Lucian sighs in relief as you begin to disrobe.

“Thank you,” he comments. “I really don’t have a clue what I’d do if you fell ill. . . I don’t think my heart could handle such a thing.”

You slip the last of your clothing off and step gingerly into the filling tub. It’s not long enough to stretch out in, so you bunch yourself up neatly to fit the space and look up at him once more.

“I feel fine,” you assure.

“I’m glad,” he replies. “Even so, it’s much better to air on the side of caution. The human body is a dangerously fickle thing, and it can be incredibly fragile. I’ve seen as much firsthand more times than I can count. In its infancy, this virus is little more than a common cold, but progresses into something fatal at a rapid pace.”

You simply nod as he kneels next to the tub, rolling his sleeves up.

“Your breathing is ragged, Lucian,” you state, “you should take that mask off and get some fresh air.”

“After,” he answers quickly.

He reaches for the half-used lavender soap bar and lathers it on his palms, then reaches out to smooth the suds over your arms and neck. His motions are a little rough and all too urgent. This is far from the first time he’s accompanied you for a bath, but it is the first time he’s ever done so and been this aggressive in his approach (if only as a result of his own anxiety.)

For the time being, he seems to avoid your breasts, instead reaching for one of your legs to hike it up out of the water. He repeats this process with the other, cleaning you until he seems satisfied. When he makes no move to revisit your chest, you take the soap from his hand and lather it yourself, placing it in its previous spot before leaning back slightly and allowing your hands to travel where you’d have liked for his to go.

Lucian watches but doesn’t touch. Your fingertips nudge at your nipples, feeling them harden under the minstrations, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth. If nothing else, he should be getting the hint by now.

Surprisingly, you’ve never had sex with him in all the months you’ve spent curled up in his arms, sleeping in his bed. He’s watched you take care of yourself on a number of occasions, has helped with his fingers another few times, —and allowed you to wrap your hand around him once a few weeks prior; but anything beyond that has seemed to be off limits. You’ve chalked it up to his shyness, or perhaps his distaste for human contact as a result of the pestilence; but tonight feels distinctly different.

Even in his previous state of frazzlement, Lucian seems all too content to sit back and watch you fondle your own breasts, soapy fingers clutching and releasing in tandem. You’ve always liked for him to watch you do things like this. Though his mask obscures the view of his face, you just know his eyes are trained on you, soaking up every movement, and you like to think he’s drooling at the way you grope yourself for his enjoyment (and for your own.)

“Lucian?” You prompt, half-lidded eyes glancing over to him.

His shoulders straighten as you say his name.

“You’re very beautiful,” he says, words almost too muffled by the mask to be made out.

“You think so?” You smirk a bit.

“I do.”

Ah, but that’s nothing new, and it’s nothing he hasn’t shared with you before. On the very night he took you in and washed your hair, he smoothed his gloved hands against your scalp and mumbled about how pretty you looked, even with dirt still caked on your skin. Even covered in filth from the alleyways you’d been sleeping in, he thought you were nothing less than stunning, —a real vision to behold, and he’s never skimped on such compliments.

You pause for a moment, reaching out to grasp for his hands. He allows the gesture, though he seems a bit confused, leaning in closer to the rim of the tub as you position him to your liking.

“Do you think I feel feverish?” You inquire, placing one of his hands on your neck and another on one of your breasts.

He makes no move to pull away, firming his grip up almost instantaneously, as if he’s been itching to feel you this way.

“Perhaps a bit warm,” he mumbles, taking a moment to roll your nipple between two nimble fingers, “but body temperature is known to rise during times of. . .” he trails off, clears his throat, then utters: “arousal.”

You trail your nails down his arm, letting your head tip back again. His hands are a bit calloused, but they feel so good against your skin, and you let a few moans slip past your lips. It’s not often he touches you like this without his gloves on, but the flesh-on-flesh contact is electrifying.

“Not to worry you, but I do feel a bit strange,” you huff slightly.

Through the slightly tinted bath water, Lucian can still watch your hand as it travels between your thighs.

“I’m just a throbbing mess,” you hum, giving him a pointed stare; “but you’ll take care of me. . . Right, Doctor?”

It may just be your imagination, but you could swear you heard his breathing shudder at that request. You’ve never been this forward with him, but something apart from the facial expression that’s still hidden away tells you that he likes where this is going. His fingers clamp down on the column of your throat, squeezing just enough to make taking in air a bit more of a struggle, but not anywhere near hard enough to be fatal.

The bit about being a throbbing mess was by no means an exaggeration on your part, so you take matters into your own fingers for the time being, drawing circles on your clit beneath the water.

“Of course,” he finally finds the voice to agree, “—I’d do anything to keep you from feeling unwell.”

That is what you like to hear.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” 

His grip tightens on your throat again, for emphasis, and with that, he seems to come slightly undone.

“Darling, that’s why I’ve demanded you stay here in my home, —our home. It’s safe here, free of contaminants and filth and anything that could cause you harm,” he says, the words spilling out like he’s been holding them back since he first set his sights on you.

“The world outside is ill, not just this rotten city. I’m working tirelessly to combat this pestilence, but as things stand now, the safest place you can be is here. With me. You understand that, my love. . . Don’t you?”

You’re only half listening, but you nod in agreement anyway. Whatever he’s saying, you trust his opinion on the matter.

“Of course,” you gasp, almost slipping a finger inside yourself to the tune of his melodic voice.

“I knew you would,” he continues, loosening the grip on your neck again. “You know I only want what’s best for you, that everything I do is to ensure your safety, —to eliminate the possibility of you ever falling sick.”

“Of course,” you repeat, head growing cloudier by the minute. “You’ve always taken such good care of me, right from the very beginning.”

God, he’s so elated that you’re seeing things his way. The way this makes him feel is almost too much to handle.

“I try so hard, darling, I truly do,” he says, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

“Please, Lucian,” you mumble desperately, “I need you tonight.”

He complies, shedding his long coat and draping it over your shoulders once you’ve stepped out of the tub. The chill of the air against your wet skin leaves your nipples hard and sensitive, and as he leads you to the bedroom, you hope he realizes just what it is you’re asking for. His fingers are a plentiful start, and you just know they’ll feel so good stuffed inside you, curling to hit all the right places, —but they’re nothing compared to the cock he’s stingily hidden away for all this time.

Tonight, you want him in all his glory in the glow of the lanterns on the walls. You want to strip him bare and gag on the length between his thighs, feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth, tease every vein that runs up his shaft. It’s not enough to grind against him while you’re half asleep or hump his clothed thigh until you’ve left his pants damp and your pussy sopping, just begging to be fucked by this man who might just love you more than he could ever fear any virus that lurks outside these walls.

“Don’t fret,” he tells you, though it sounds more like a command than a gesture to soothe any worries, “just lie back. I’ll be sure to give you. . . A proper examination.”

You could cum just hearing that.

With half your body pressed against the headboard and his coat nearly slipping off your body completely, he sets to work in his underclothes and mask. It’s by no means an uncommon sight, but there’s something distinct about him this late evening; the way his black attire contrasts so beautifully with the stark paleness of his skin and the mystery it shrouds him in that you’re just dying to sink your teeth into. Everything hidden beneath that cautious wardrobe and that long mask. . . You’ve gotta have it. It’s a necessity.

His fingers, ungloved, begin softly with your calves, tracing senseless lines.

“I’m not so fragile,” you remind him.

For as oblivious as he can be, Lucian takes the hint, and by the time he’s reached your thighs, he’s content to give them the same treatment as your throat.

The way he splits you apart is almost painfully clinical, a thumb on either side of your lips, peering through the eye holes of his mask to admire the way your folds glisten in the orange lantern light. A few prodding strokes leave you biting your lip again, body waning in anticipation for the moment he finally turns his hand over and sinks the longest of his fingers inside you, —slowly, but deliberately. It’s impossible to see his expression, but you hope his mouth hangs open a little at the way your cunt suckles on his finger, encouraging him to prod more and maybe stuff another few inside for you to grind against.

There’s something about the warmth of his fingers that gets you off almost in equal amounts to the way he moves. Another finger inside, and you whine, halfway to an orgasm from this alone.

He’s not particulary rough in his execution, but there’s a clean meticulousness in every movement that leaves every cell in your body craving more, begging for anything he can offer. Months upon months of wanting, of dropping hints, of hoping he’d catch on and finally see things your way, —and at last, you’ve made it. And now that you’re here, you’re content to simply lie still and let him have his way with you.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, nearly choking on the words when the tips of his fingers brush just the right spot.

“Before you’re satisfied?” He sits forward a bit, resting his free hand on your stomach to press you down onto the bed. “Darling, I couldn’t fathom it.”

You will your upper body forward, grabbing for the hand on your stomach to move it up to your throat. He squeezes, scissoring the fingers inside you, watching closely as your body shakes and your eyes roll back a bit in ecstasy.

“I’ve tried,” he says to you suddenly. “I’ve tried so desperately to be gentle with you.”

You smile.

“I appreciate that,” you answer. “But I don’t want you to be gentle at the moment.”

“That’s a dangerous request, my love,” he warns.

God, you hope so.

You reach forward and grab at the beak of his mask, pulling it upward gently until it begins to slip off and reveal the handsome face underneath. Dark hair, dark eyes, but skin almost pale enough to be sickly, you meet his gaze just long enough to ask for permission, then lean in to kiss him on the mouth. It’s the first time, and it’s electric. He’s avoided this for months, —avoided your mouth, your unspoken pleas, all the passes you made for the sake of keeping himself at bay. But here you are now with two of his fingers stuffed inside you, his hand on your throat, and your lips slotted against his own.

“Please,” you murmur, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

And you can feel the restraints of his mind come unwound.

He’s no longer gentle in the way he fucks you silly with his fingers, hammering them over and over and over again into that delicious spot buried deep inside you, squeezing your throat hard enough to cut your breathing off. The way your pussy spasms as you cum is blissful, and he loves the way your arousal soaks his digits, loves the way your back arches, soundless moans spilling forth as he makes you orgasm.

“I fucking tried,” he says again.

It’s almost manic, so desperate and sort of pathetic in the kind of way that turns you on. This is the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, and it dawns on you that even the filthiest of words sound so unendingly elegant when they’re spoken by Lucian.

“I tried to be gentle. I tried to keep you safe here, —to shelter you from whatever forsaken wasteland remains out there,” he insists, his fingers still buried in your twitching cunt. “I just wanted to protect you.”

He lightens the grip on your throat as you lean in to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands.

“You have,” you assure him.

“You take such good care of me, Lucian,” you mumble into his ear. “Let me show you how grateful I am.”

The fingers stuffed inside you slowly slip out, and reach for his hand, guiding them to your lips, taking his digits into your mouth to taste yourself on them. He watches with hunger and interest as you clean him with your tongue. He leans in to kiss you to get a taste of it himself, grasping your hair near the scalp and taking a fistful hard enough to make you gasp.

“I can’t let you leave,” he murmurs. “It’s not safe out there. When this pestilence has been subdued, I’ll do this all correctly. We can start from the beginning, and I’ll be a gentleman.”

“I look forward to it,” you answer softly.

“You’ll stay until then?” He inquires.

He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to care when you just want him inside you. Lucian has seen death day in and day out, —so it’s no wonder it feels like it permeates everything around him. He just doesn’t want you to suffer such a fate, and you’re confident that you won’t, as long as he’s yours.

“Of course I will,” you answer.

It’s like something primal takes over. Suddenly his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, and his hands are grasping roughly at your breasts, pushing you down onto the bed as he crawls between your legs. He pauses, hovering just above your dripping cunt, turning his head to sink his teeth into the meat of your thigh. It makes you squeal a bit, and he kisses the teethmarks he left behind as if in apology.

You can’t help but wonder how long he’s been yearning for this. It’s like every part of him is thrumming from the thrill of it all, and this man who has previously refused to even kiss you on the mouth is now stationed exactly where you want him, tongue lolling out to lick a solid stripe up your folds. He laps like a man starved, then spreads you apart with his thumbs to suck your clit mercilessly.

It’s good enough to make your vision go blurry, and you can’t seem to form proper words through the haze. Desperately, your fingers claw at the sheets of this mattress, and he moans against your hot cunt, sending a vibration rippling through your core that makes your back arch on instinct. You mumble something that comes out like gibberish, pussy convulsing against the flat of his tongue.

His arm comes round to press your hips down, forcing you to be still. It’s the kind of toruture you’re sure you’ll learn to live for. There’s only so much you can wriggle under his arm, which has a surprising amount of force despite his rather lanky stature.

From what little friction you manage as you attempt to grind against his tongue, you tip yourself over the edge and as the knot in your stomach unties for the second time tonight, he continues licking, lapping at the juices that spill forth.

He stands and reaches for the top button of his shirt, not bothering to wipe his face, chin and lips glistening with your aftermath. You watch him undress with lustful eyes, propping yourself up on your elbow, then slinking back against the headboard once again, resting your weary body against it. The quiver of your thighs doesn’t stop you from nudging at your swollen clit.

“I wanted to be a gentleman,” he comments, untucking the shirt from his pants and pulling the front open.

It’s not skin you haven’t seen before. In fact, you’ve seen every inch of him at one point or another; just never all at once, and now, you’re waiting with bated breath to see him completely exposed for your eyes only.

“I truly did. I wanted to give you comfort and security, —to love you as you deserve. And I knew from the moment I saw you that only I could give you exactly what you’ve always needed.”

You hum in acknowledgement as he continues to strip himself bare.

“But it’s so clear to me now that I’ve neglected you,” he continues. “This beautifully desperate display is all a result of my negligence. . . I failed to realize just how much you needed me like this. How much you needed the touch of a man. . .”

He sounds apologetic, but your eyes are fixated on his half-hard cock. The last time you saw it, he asked that you keep your mouth away; insisting it wasn’t sanitary to use it for such purposes, terrified that you might contract some sort of illness if you sucked his dick for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. This time, however, you have a feeling you’re well past that.

To test the waters, you let your hand fall away from your cunt, slipping off the side of the bed to kneel before him. He gazes down at you as you open your lips and let your tongue fall out, encouraging him to make what he will of it.

“My love,” he says, placing four fingers under your chin to rest his thumb against your tongue for a moment, “—I’ll make everything up to you. . .”

His free hand pumps his cock once, twice, thrice, —then he places it gently on the flat of your tongue, letting you feel the weight and the warmth of it. He sighs.

“Darling,” he groans, “ah. . .”

It takes very little for him to come close to cumming in your mouth, just a few minutes of sucking him off, listening to him moan, feeling him quiver at your touch. You hum with his member stuffed down your throat, and he cants his hips reflexively, an orgasm bubbling up beneath his skin.

Your non-dominant hand holds his cock steady while the other is stuck between your thighs, rubbing furiously at your clit, making you whimper along his shaft. When he notices, Lucian finds that wholly unacceptable and snatches you up to position you on the edge of the bed, relieving the pressure on your aching knees. You weren’t down there for long, but kneeling was hardly comfortable on the hard floor.

He spreads your thighs apart and smacks the pads of his fingers against your slit.

Whatever he’s doing, you’re sure you’ll enjoy it to the fullest, so you occupy yourself with his cock again from this new angle, bending awkwardly to mouth at the reddened tip. His fingers find their way inside you once more, working their delicate magic, brushing against all the right places. At this point, you’re more desperate for his dick to slip inside you like this, but you take what he offers in stride (and more of him into your mouth in the process.)

He’s vocal, and that’s utterly divine. His gravely moans and the pump of his fingers leave you cumming for a third time before his first orgasm arises, depositing a sizable amount of his seed into your mouth.

“I love you,” he huffs, —and if he were anyone else, you’d be certain it was just the oral sex talking, but no. . . Lucian wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

Of course, he’s made similar confessions over the months, and has certainly treated you like it long before he ever expressed it so directly, but still. . . It feels nice to hear it, if nothing else.

“I love you too,” you answer honestly, urging him closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. “I’m yours tonight, completely. . . If you’ll have me. . .”

“Oh, darling, don’t be foolish,” he remarks, kissing you deeply. “You’ve been mine since the moment we met.”

Your back to the cool sheets, he lingers over you now, his shadow looming over you so monstrously. There’s a stark flush of red on his face that has begun to spread down the length of his neck, and one of his hands finds its way to your breasts as the other smoothes across your thigh. The head of his cock kisses your sopping entrance, sending a series of chills from the top of your spine to the bottom.

His breath on your neck makes your chest tighten, and he finds your lips with his own again as he sinks inside you, filling you up.

“Lucian,” you whimper, helpless to his touch as he pauses, buried down to the hilt inside your cunt.

He presses a few gentle kisses to your throat, murmuring something about how nice it feels to be stuffed inside you. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his intrusion.

“You must understand by now,” he says, mumbling the words right next to your bitten earlobe. “Everything I do is for you.”

“I do,” you gasp slightly. 

As he begins to move, your walls clench around him, and he exhales deeply against the junction of your neck and shoulder. You roll your hips to match his pace, but as he goes faster, that becomes fruitless. Eventually, you resign yourself to the fate of lying there against the pillows, speared on his cock, him making a mess of you as you moan uncontrollably.

This was everything you’d been hoping for and then some, like some erotic dream come to life. Lucian’s lips travel where they please, —stopping to peck at your jaw, then to suck on your throat. Your breathing is haggard, and he smooths a hand down your side, resting it against your hip for a moment.

“Just a little more,” he whispers, as if to be reassuring.

“Just look how stunning you are, angel,” he murmurs, “how pretty you look like this.”

He kisses you once more.

“You take this so well, like your body was made for me.”

You’re delirious enough to believe that might be the case.

His cock pounds a little harder, and he hits the perfect spot, tearing a desperate yelp from your throat. You’re overstimulated and weak, but your high is itching just under your skin, and you couldn’t bear to see it disappear.

“Please,” you whimper to him, completely at his mercy, “—please, I’m so close.”

He loves the desperation that clings to your voice. The hand on your hip travels to your clit, pressing roughly against the abused little button, making you jerk slightly. He rubs a few heavy circles against it, and you come undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he chases his own release inside you.

Lucian is sloppy near the end, which may just be the only time you’ve ever known him to not be perfectly calculated and precise. His breath hits your neck again, over and over as he huffs through the hunt, finally sinking his teeth in when he comes to a finish. His cum sits hot inside your cunt, and he catches his breath for a moment, head resting against your throat.

“I apologize,” he utters. “I hope that wasn’t too much for you.”

You exhale slowly, his cock still buried in your heat.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, “I enjoyed myself.”

You feel him smile against your neck.

“I’m glad, darling.”

For the first time, he sleeps next to you without clothing, letting you touch every part of him, tangling your limbs together. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, breath fanning softly against him, as close to sleep as you can manage without tumbling over the precipice, Lucian reaches for his long coat and drapes it over your body, holding you closer.

#oc #original character #plague doctor #original character smut #oc smut #oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere original character x reader #yandere oc smut #yandere original character smut #soft yandere

[rileyslibrary]

(Can i just say i love ur work, i too read them like bedtime stories, u perform a great service to humanity my good comrade)

Also, could i request perhaps Reader needing to go undercover for a mission and getting a bit too close for comfort with some baddies and thus making Ghost worry? He’s certainly not jealous by any means tho, of course not! Nope. Not jealous at all. Not even a smidge.

He is tho. He’s jealous. In his own Ghost way.

Thank you for your kind words, nonny and sorry for being so late!

Reader is an undercover tourist in Paris for this one. No warnings, other than a pretty sulky Ghost. More A/N at the end.)

———————————————————————

He hasn’t uttered a word since you returned to your temporary base. No “good job,” no “well done,” no “thank you for risking your life for the team.” Nothing. He didn’t even stick around for the debriefing. Instead, he stashed his gear in his locker and headed straight to the kitchen.

Usually, after a high-stress operation, Ghost would go to the kitchen to make some tea. Yet, the way he went about his business today seemed more like he was about to sharpen his knives than brew himself a ‘cuppa’.

There is a reason he’s upset, though, and you know it. While you are always prepared to risk your life for the team, your latest actions were pretty... out of character, so to speak, and Ghost took notice of that.

You stare at the closed kitchen door, wondering what’s unfolding behind it, how he feels, and whether he can communicate it without lashing out.

“Maybe it’s best to give him some space,” Price advises, narrowing his eyes. “You did a pretty risky thing back there; no reason to push your luck.”

“A whole kitchen’s worth of space, Captain?” you retort. “I’ll evacuate if things take a turn for the worse.”

“Call for backup if you can’t handle it,” he winks at you. “And don’t tell him I did that,” he says, pointing at his closed eye.

You smile at him, and push open the kitchen door. Ghost sits at the table, his back turned towards you, hunched over a cup of tea. He has his balaclava draped over his right thigh and his gloves on the table.

“Your hair is a mess.” You tease.

You reach to fix the stray hairs hanging over his forehead, but he pulls away from your touch. You lower your hand and go for the kettle instead. This will be much more difficult, you think to yourself.

“Coffee?” You offer. Although you know he’d refuse, you feel it’s a good way to break the ice.

Yet he doesn’t reply. Instead, he reclines on his chair and stirs the tea with a metal spoon. With your back turned to him, you pour the preheated water into your cup, add coffee granules, and cool it down with a gentle blow. The clinking of the metal spoon against the ceramic mug continues until it suddenly stops.

“Are you alright, mademoiselle?” He mocks, with a fake—and quite terrible—French accent, mimicking the enemy guard who “rescued” you when you dramatically pretended to twist your ankle in front of him.

A chuckle escapes you, and you turn to face him, leaning against the kitchen counter. He keeps his gaze fixed on his cup.

“I had to buy some time for Soap and Gaz, Lieutenant,” you explain. “They were inside that safehouse, gathering-”

“Intel,” he interjects. “I was there too; no need to rehash it.”

“The guards were dangerously close, sir,” you press on. “There was no time.”

He shakes his head. “No time doesn’t mean dropping to your hands and knees like a coquette, bawling your eyes out, waiting for a French knight in shining armour to come and save you now, does it?” he spats.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Coquette’? You? He knows damn well the fall was staged, the tears were fabricated, the vulnerability was an act. The fall did hurt; otherwise, it wouldn’t have been believable. But shedding tears over twisting your ankle? No way. You’ve endured bullet wounds in the past, for heaven’s sake, and barely flinched. Ghost knows that. Yet, he looks more…

“Jealous, Lt.?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.” He murmurs, scratching his forehead.

“Say what you want,” You shrug. “But you must admit: it was a pretty convincing fall.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Nothing says more ‘convincing’ like kissing the cobblestones of Paris.”

“Alright,” you say, leaving your cup on the kitchen counter. You cross your arms in front of your chest and nod upwards. “What would you have done, then?”

“Shoot him,” he responds, his black-painted eyes shifting from the cup to you. “That’s why I was up on the rooftop, remember?”

“What’s the point of going undercover if you’d eliminate the threat like that?” You persist. “And in a public place like that? Come on, Lt.!”

He pushes his cup to the side, places his hands on the kitchen table and stands up.

“Have you ever thought of what would have happened if your cover was blown?” He asks, raising his voice. “How was I supposed to protect you if you were right in front of my bloody target?”

You keep staring at him, his last words replaying in your mind.

How was I supposed to protect you…

You look at your mug on the counter; the steam from the coffee is almost gone. It must have been transferred onto him instead, you think to yourself. Might as well let him blow it off. Let him vent.

“I know how to protect myself, Ghost.”

He sits back on his chair and brings his tea closer, shaking his head.

“You should’ve waited for the signal.” He says. “We’ve got a plan for a reason.”

“I understand, s-”

“Falling in front of the enemy, letting him scoop you up like a fucking princess in agony, removing your shoe, fetching you ice from the coffee shop wasn’t part of the plan.”

A smile threatens to escape your lips, but you suppress it. You turn your back to him and pretend to clean the counter. There’s no reason to anger him more.

“Sir,” you begin. “What is the problem here: me not following orders or letting the guard run to my aid?”

“I don’t care about that French prick touching your ankle.” He murmurs.

Well, seems that ‘French prick’ touching you bothered him as much as you not following the plan. You stop fake-wiping the counter, grab your mug and turn towards him.

“I apologise, sir,” you say. “It won’t happen again. But you could have voiced your concerns in a less... abrasive way.”

“Wasn’t the pavement abrasive enough?” He snaps. “What’s next? Are you going to cry over it?”

You click your tongue and approach the table, extending your hand for a handshake.

“Alright, enough,” you say. “Let’s make a truce and end this right now.”

He remains still, looking at you. He finally reaches for your hand, but instead of shaking it, he twists it so your palm faces down. With a smirk, he stands up, brings it to his mouth, and kisses it.

“Isn’t that how that fucker would have done it?” he asks, still smiling.

You roll your eyes. At least his anger has died down and you’re left with his—typical—snarky self. You pull a chair across from him.

“Mind if I sit?” You ask.

“Normally, I’d tell you to ‘hit the bricks’,” He murmurs, motioning for you to take your place. “But you’ve already done that.”

———————————————————————

A/N: I keep confusing “ankle” with “uncle”. You twist your ankle, not your uncle ffs.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley #call of duty #cod mwii #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod mw ghost #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic

[maopll]

Could I request Kaeya, Diluc, Childe and Zhongli's (separate) s/o laying them down on her lap and playing with the boys' hair when their exhausted?

Put your head on my heart

#genshin impact !

⌗:, a/n: its boutta feel like heaven once I scratch their heads I'm being dead serious...hopefully there's no dandruff...

⌗:, pairings: khaenri'ahn, weird grown up, snezhnaya's greatest toymaker, fossil w/ gn!reader (separately)

⌗:, note: I wanted to post smth before I went to school so pls take it with a grain of salt (low effort work)

— ୨୧ KAEYA

"Ahh...that's feels great" Kaeya mumbled drowsily against your lap.

"You're having real fun by having me at your beck and call huh?" You playfully said as you pressed one spot on his forehead a little harder.

"Ow ow ow gently I'm very feeble" He smirked while looking you with half his eyes closed. It looks like the exhaustion really creeped up to him. He's not one who easily shows through his demeanor how much overworked or even exhausted he is.

To others he may seem like how he usually does but the slight change in his personality spoke words to you. The past week he became sluggish and even fell asleep at the most odd places.

Thus you took it upon your hands to lay him down on your lap and forcibly make him achieve that deserved slumber that he really needed.

"It's not right to overwork yourself so much Kaeya..." your voice sounded like one of worry. Kaeya knew how you felt and...he can't really disagree with you. "I'll be careful next time lovely"

"Oh, you better! you're trying to shave years of my life here with how much you're overworking yourself!" You smack his head. He laughed, seeing you worry so much, and said "aww I'm sorry," all while having a shit eating grin on his face as he smothered your face with his kisses to make you stop worrying. "You have my oath as a knight, my dove" he says so while sealing the words with a kiss on the back of your hand in quite the knightly fashion.

— ୨୧ DILUC

It's way past midnight. The workers and the Maids of the Manor are enjoying the honey heavy dew of slumber while you paced back and forth in your own room's veranda as you stared far into the vineyards to even catch a glimpse of your lover. It's not unusual for Diluc to return late, but it's even more unusual when he hasn't come back after the clock struck 2 a.m.

"Where is he?" Your worries grew like a rapid fire. You tried to calm your nerves by telling yourself "it's alright..." when your ears perked up with the creak of the front door. After some time, you saw Diluc emerge from the shadows with his red hair looking particularly vibrant under the moonlight.

"Gosh, you had me worried there dear..." you strode towards him. "Yes...it looks like I kept you awake and worried for a long time? apologies..." as he sounded those words, his voice grew tired and low as his eyes nearly closed from how drowsy he was. You frowned at this sight of him. So you held his hand gently and guided him towards your bed to let him get that well deserved rest since he looked as if he would flop flat on the ground if you did not let him fall on the bed sooner.

You guided his head towards your lap and ruffled his red locks gently. "I'll help you sleep quicker, Diluc. So just close your eyes now" with a peck to his forehead, you put your hands softly over his eyes. "Thank you...love"

— ୨୧ CHILDE

"Childe...I don't think this is that right place to do this..."

And yes it wasn't. He decided to go out fishing in Dragonspine with you because he said, "I miss the way me and my family used to fish in Snezhnaya" all puppy eyed and stuff. You're always the one who says yes to anything he says but maybe...maybe this time you should've said no...

"But babe I'm tired! won't you let me rest my head on your lap?" so he said when he is literally a harbinger. Him running out of stamina and being exhausted? impossible that's something that will happen in an alternate universe. He just needed a sorry excuse to feel the warmth your thigh emitted because he just couldn't get enough of those.

"Childe I'm not saying that you can't lay on my lap but we are out in the middle of nowhere in adeserted frosty mountain!" You screamed to him while he just jumped up with excitement, "Oh look! I caught a Snowstrider! Great catch!"

"Oh my archons...are we done yet?" you said impatiently because the cold was getting to you. "Aww but I was thinking about catching a few more...alright let's go home now"

You noticed the tone drop in his voice. Looks like he really missed those eventful days of his. So with a sigh and a forgiving smile on your face you agreed to his whims, "Nevermind it's alright, you can fish as much as you want we can go after some time"

Oh what a sight it was when his eyes literally sparkled with joy and the way his ears perked up hearing your words of affirmation. "Thanks babe! Watch me catch the biggest one for you!"

Oh it's going to be a long day...

— ୨୧ ZHONGLI

The vibrant kites were visible from the small window of your house. Lantern Rite comes every year with a new surprise yet even before the preparations are completed before the event, the hustle and bustle of the people as they scurried to prepare meticulously for the biggest event was a joy that could never eb expressed in words.

So here you were. Atop a hill overseeing the entirety of Liyue Harbour with your lover resting on you lap as you played with his hair as soft as the silk flowers and as fragrant as qingxins.

"Do you like the view Zhongli?" you quietly asked, keeping the comforting silence that prevailed amidst the two of you. "As always. Mortals and their customs have never ceased to amaze me." He hummed lowly as you scratched that one spot of his head. He had those areas on his head which felt better than the other places because...he's a dragon after all.

He looked up at you through his lashes and spoke, "Once the Liyue Harbour is decorated, let us visit Mount Aocang to give those old friends a little greeting." You smiled at how much he cared for those who lived along with him. "Sure let's do that"

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #kaeya headcanons #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya #genshin impact diluc #diluc x you #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #childe fluff #childe imagines #childe x reader #genshin childe #zhongli x y/n #zhongli fluff #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #kaeya fluff #diluc fluff

[circeyoru]

Angelic Doctor _ Part 2

[Human!Alastor x Disguised Angel!Reader]

Part 1

Part 2 (here)

You tried. You really tried. You ignored that blood-red colour his soul had and tried to change him, maybe even turn it into a lighter shard so he could be redeemed or saved in some other way. But there was a reason why that blood-red colour was such a dread to Angels like you, it was dreaded for the known reason that that mortal was an evil person. One that was barely forced to do evil, unlike those with criminal parents or cultists led down a wrong path. No, no, no. These people were the ones who picked their fate and enjoyed it

You had thought Alastor’s kindness and caring persona shown to you would help you persuade him to turn over a new leaf, but he merely favoured you and that was that. No benefits for you to take advantage of that would change the dark person he was

Alastor noticed your advances. Was it to get him into Heaven? Dear, you are so pure and adorable! Words can’t describe it! He was doomed to Hell the moment his shock turned to excitement at his first kill which was his father! Instead of getting him to Heaven, he wants to bring you down to Hell with him

He thought that spending the remainder of his time on Earth with you was enough, but it wasn’t. The more he spent his time with you, the more he wanted to keep you to himself. A darling just for him and his interest only

He started small, asking you out on days off or break time, taking you to visit local cafes he thinks are good or needs a companion to go for those pair offer deals. Then it started to grow, he’d take you to work, walk you back home as he insisted that the streets were dangerous since the cops had yet to catch that deadly killer, even wait for your breaks to come so that he could have a meal with you. He knows you’re a busy person, being a doctor that everyone relied upon and trusted and all that goodness

Originally, he thought your goodness and kindness were a facade to draw people in or a way to earn people’s gratitude towards you. Yet in his time with her, you remained constant, sure there were moments where you let out some steam and vent, but otherwise you were the perfect opposite of him. This just solidifies his fear that the two of you will be apart after one of you dies, forever

In a desperate attempt, he tried binding your soul to his so that even when you die first and go to Heaven, the moment he dies and is dragged down to Hell, you’ll join him. Vice versa

That when he found out you’re not even human. You were a literal Angel

You were made aware of Alastor’s attempt since your angelic powers activated themselves in the middle of the night while you were peacefully asleep. Your wings were summoned and your hair turned white as your halo appeared over your head. At the foot of your bed, you found Alastor with a spellbook of some kind. Around your bed was the setting of some ritual

Betrayed by your kindness, you rushed out of Alastor’s manor that he offered to you during the Great Depression that brought so much suffering. In a twisted turn of event, your time was up and your opportunity came in the form of a lightning shock. Thus, your return to Heaven after your journey on Earth in the city of New Orleans

Alastor barely had the time to compute the failed soul binding, then there was your angelic self, but the most devastating realization was your death. Of course, he knew you weren’t dead, but you’re as good as dead because he would never see you again. You’d be above and he’d be below. He’d never be able to contact you. Never

In a fit of uncontrollable rage and despair, he went on a murder spree. His clean-up getting more and more sloppy until he was cornered and killed by the pack animals that were called the loyal friends of humans

Note: A bit short, but that's all I got. I've seen a lot of Angel!Reader oneshots or headcanons or imagines and had to do one myself. It was fun but a bit short compared to my other ones ╚(″⚈ᴗ⚈)╗

P.S. I have no idea where you guys come from! Thanks for the support!! ( ´•ᗨ•`)っ ♡

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel oneshots #human alastor #Circe's Nighty Writings

[satubby]

Hei! Thsi is my first time requesting, i hope this is how it goess..?? Can you please do Platonic Yandere Denji + Platonic Yan Aki w/ touchy reader? (hugs,clinging onto arm) etc. ^_^

[I am glad to hear! Of course, although I will make it a bit short because I still need to adapt well to Denji and Aki's personalities, I need to assimilate them to understand them]

Since you were a child you have been kind and stubborn, having to deal alone with problems beyond your age, it was when you met this child: He was dirty and ragged, he cried when his knee was scraped, from there he was your first of many helps you gave him. Thus began your friendship, you gave him food and love.

❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢When they were children and he met you for the first time, Denji thought you were an angel fallen from heaven. He had never known kindness and affection from another person before. Since then he vowed to protect you from harm, so that you would never lose that warm smile. The one that made him feel so special, even though he sometimes got jealous when you gave the same smile to animals and acquaintances. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢You used to feed him a lot, of that he wasn't wrong, you really were kind. Then when the pochita incident happened, he got depressed at first, he didn't know what his purpose was now until he saw you in the middle of the chaos…. You embraced him. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Now that you are both demon hunters, Denji always makes sure to fight by your side on every mission. He couldn't bear to see you hurt. If he ever noticed you were in danger, he would instantly transform into Chainsaw Man to defend you, no matter what price he has to pay (We already saw how crazy he is to the point of enduring the pain of severed limbs or wounds). ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢He loves the moments when you can rest together. He loves the way you stroke his hair when he is resting on your legs, he feels like a baby in your arms. He is comforted just by your presence. Sometimes he even falls asleep imagining the life they could have if the world wasn't plagued by demons, how Onee-san/Imouto would call you and you would congratulate him on graduating from school…. even though he has never gone. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢He always watches you from afar to make sure you're okay. If he notices you're sad or stressed, he'll go out of his way to make you laugh again. He hates to see you suffer. His biggest motivation is to see you happy and protected, even as a small favor for teaching him the basics. Things like reading or writing his name, giving you love….

❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢On nights when he has nightmares of the past (or pochita's death), he seeks refuge in your arms. He knows that with you he is safe and that his inner demons cannot reach him. You are his only home in this world where he is not seen as trash or something usable. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Denji would be very sad and worried if he noticed that you put your safety before his. Like all those times as a kid when you helped him hunt demons because he wanted to return the favor by making you money. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢He would flatly refuse to let you participate in any mission that involves risk. He'd rather deal with demons by himself than see you in danger, if it's still mandatory for you to go, then he'll do everything for you. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢If you try to protect him by risking your life, he may panic and get out of control. Only the sound of your voice would calm him down. He would spend sleepless nights thinking of ways to make you understand how vital you are to him. He can't bear the thought of losing the most important person. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢He may call out to you in agitation, teary-eyed, begging you not to act so recklessly anymore. Seeing you hurt is his worst nightmare. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢If the situation were extreme and you were at high risk, he would probably stand between you and danger even if it meant harming himself. He would a thousand times rather suffer himself than see you suffer.

Denji would give anything to ensure your well-being and protection. It is very difficult for him to see you deliberately put in danger for his sake. You are what he loves most.

When Aki passes away in front of his eyes, Denji's heart shatters. It is too much for him to bear so much pain.

But then he remembers that you still have light by his side. He runs to find you, knowing that only you can calm the hurricane inside him.

He finds you crying too for the loss of the friend, so he hugs you tightly as he lets out all his pain in a sea of tears. Gradually, as he feels your comforting caresses on his back, the sobs subside.

"I am no longer alone…you are here with me" Your presence is like a balm to his broken soul. You kiss his forehead repeatedly, Denji still inhaling that scent that means 'home' to him.

"Thank you…for never leaving me. You are my strength, Onee-chan." Denji knows that as long as he has you by his side, he can get through any adversity. You are his grounding cable.

When Power sacrifices herself, Denji returns to seek refuge in your arms. Despite the disgust he feels with himself, you embrace him with a motherly warmth.

"You are not weak…you are only human. And we humans feel, we suffer, and we rise again." Your words heal him inside as if they were balm. With you he feels understood.

Denji would give anything to protect that smile that saves him when he needs it most. You are his safe harbor, his reason to go on.

Since Aki has met you, you have shown nothing but friendship and kindness, even if he is initially reluctant to open up to you… Given his experiences in this bloody world where lives are lost.

❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Aki always admires you as someone strong and trustworthy. Although he sees Himeno more as a superior, he sees you as a sister due to the proximity of your ages, he admires your leadership skills and your wisdom in difficult situations. After a hard day hunting demons, Aki finds comfort in your kitchen. You make sure he eats well, take care of him and Himeno. Food becomes a way to bond as a makeshift family. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢When Aki has nightmares about losing his family, you let him spend the night with you so he doesn't have to be alone. Waking up to your smiling face soothes him. Over time, the nightmares become less frequent. Aki picks up some of your best habits, like taking breaks and not overworking himself, as you warn him. He begins to take better care of himself thanks to your influence. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢You help Aki train and improve his sword skills. Fights with you push him to hone his skills, while providing him with a fun outlet for stress. Aki comes to see you as one of his most formidable opponents. On days off, you and Aki enjoy relaxing activities like going to the arcade or having picnics in the park. Simple pleasures help him feel like a normal young man again from time to time. Knowing that he can always count on your support gives Aki the courage to follow his path, even in his darkest hours, to the end. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Aki always feels more comforted and secure wrapped in your warm hugs after a stressful mission. He likes it when you wrap your arms around him protectively, especially if he was injured.

"I'm fine, don't worry," he would say even though deep down he knows it's a lie and can't see your silly face, yet he ignores that pain in favor of being comforted by your presence and care. He affectionately calls you "Imouto/Onee-san" or simply your name in a sigh of gratitude. These moments of tenderness make him feel that there is still goodness left in the world. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Aki tries to repay you for the great favor you do by feeding him and taking good care of him all this time. He gained culinary skills by watching you in the kitchen and now loves to cook for you, just to see your smile when you taste his dishes. "I hope you like it," he would say eager for your opinion. When he manages to surprise you with some special treat, he feels rewarded for hours of practice. He wants the chance to take care of you too, even if it's in the kitchen. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Aki sometimes gets a little jealous when you spend too much time with other people, as if they might steal you away from him. He knows it's ridiculous as he trusts you completely. But he can't help those possessive feelings for the one he considers his family. Try not to be obvious with his jealousy and trust that you will always come back to him, as you have done unconditionally so far. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Aki's greatest fear is losing you too. If you are in danger, desperation overpowers him and he will do anything to save you even if he has to face you. "Don't risk yourself like this, please. I couldn't bear to see another loved one go," he would plead with tears in his eyes. You are too important for you to give your life for his. He will fight by your side but never at your expense.

The noise of the battle around us faded. All Aki could see was your pale face in his arms, your eyes narrowing as you struggled to breathe.

"No… please don't." He whispered through his tears. "Don't leave me too."

You took his hand in yours weakly, trying to smile. "I'm sorry… I made… a promise… to protect… all of you…"

"Don't say that!" shouted Aki, pressing your body against him. "You'll be fine, you'll see! Just… hold on, please"

You shook softly. "Take care… of the others… Ani/Otouto… Keep… fighting"

"Don't you dare die!" He sobbed, leaning down so that their foreheads touched, "You're the only good thing I have left…. I can't lose you to."

Your eyes slowly closed as you caressed his cheek. "I'll always… be… with you… Ani/Otouto"

With your last breath, Aki roared in pain to the sky. You lay motionless in his arms, a faint smile on your lips. From that moment on, a part of Aki died with you.

#yandere x reader #platonic yandere #yandere headcanons #anime #female reader #yandere x you #anime x reader #my tumblr #denji x reader #denji #csm denji #chainsaw man denji #csm #yandere platonic #x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa #aki chainsaw man #aki smut #Yandere Denji #yandere aki hayakawa #yandere csm #yandere male #sister and brother #reader insert #chainsaw man x reader

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

More Than 7 Minutes in Heaven - Rafe Cameron X Reader Smut

Req: rafe requests you say??👀 i saw a tiktok edit of him and the caption said “he definitely talks you through it” and now i just need a smut of rafe talking reader through an orgasm (maybe with some degrading AND praise🤤)

Part 2

Rafe x Reader Established Relationship

RAFE WAITS FOR THAT MOTHERFUCKIN' CONSENT! also he has hair here lol. no hate to the the buzzcut, tho

Warnings: fingering, oral f! receiving, language, not proof-read lol its 1:19am i ain't got time for that shit

Summary: Your boyfriend helps you experience your first orgasm.

"Truth or Dare?" Topper asked Rafe.

"Truth." The game had been pretty tame thus far. The small circle of Kooks consisted of you, Rafe, Kelce, Top, and a couple of girls that Kelce and Topper had brought over.

"What's the hottest thing Y/N has done?" You rolled your eyes at the crude question but couldn't lie. You were interested in your boyfriend's answer. You make eye contact with him as he gives you a devilish grin. He brakes eye contact to look you up and down.

"She's pretty hot when she yells at me, so sometimes I annoy her just so she’ll do it." The comment makes your cheeks burn in embarrassment and the boys snicker.

The game continues and you zone out until true guys get up to get drink refills and leave you and the touron girls alone.

"Y/N! Truth or dare?"

"Truth." You decide to keep it simple, way too tired to participate in whatever dare she had planned.

"Is Rafe the biggest guy you've been with?" The group quiets down, awaiting your response.

"What do you mean?" The girls giggle.

"Like sexually." Your eyes widen.

"Uh..." You didn't know what to say since you and Rafe hadn't had sex... yet. "I don't really-"

"Wait." The blonde interrupted you. "You haven't had sex with him? And you've been dating for four months?" You didn't know how to respond, as you hadn't had sex with anyone. Ever.

You remain silent, far too embarrassed to even offer a reply. The girls take this as an answer.

"Holy shit." The girls laugh and the brunette one can't fathom the idea that Rafe has "held out" as long as he has.

The boys return amidst the chaos and Rafe slings his arm around you, pulling you to his side.

The game goes on for a few more rounds until your name is called again. And this time, the brunette is the source.

You are scared of what would happen by choosing truth, and so you say,

"Dare." The girl rolls her eyes.

"I dare you to pick truth." Your eyes narrow.

Topper butts in,

"That's cheating! You can't force her to pick truth." The girl rolls her eyes.

"Fine. I dare you to go play seven minutes in heaven with Rafe." Your heart stops and Rafe stands, extending his hand out for you.

"C'mon, princess." You take his hand, no longer wanting to be near the two touron girls.

Rafe leads you to a bathroom and shuts and locks the door. You are frozen in place, back to the counter of the sink. You keep your gaze on the floor, not wanting to meet Rafe's gaze.

He steps toward you, his shoes kissing yours and his hands reach out to touch your arms.

"Baby..." He's practically begging you to look at him. "Are you ok?" His right-hand reaches up to brush your cheek and you finally look at him. "You know we don't have to do anything. Whenever you're ready."

How had you gotten so lucky? Rafe Cameron, from the wealthiest family in all of the Outerbanks, someone who is known not to date, has waited for the green light from you for months. He was perfect. Standing in front of you, his concerned eyes boring into yours, ensuring his girl is ok.

All you have wanted to do these past few months has been to have sex with your boyfriend but you were terrified. The constant thoughts swimming in your head...

What if he doesn't like it?

What if I'm not good enough?

What if Rafe doesn't want me anymore?

You decided it was time to push those thoughts away. You knew, deep down, that Rafe loved you, as he had said it many times already, and that he was willing to go as slow as you needed to. He would be ready whenever you wanted to do it. And those bitchy touron girls gave you the perfect green light.

"Rafe." It's a whisper. "I wanna..." You trail off, the ending of the sentence dying in your throat, watching as he registers your words.

"Hold on..." His hand drops back to your waist and he licks his lips. Suddenly, all you can think about is kissing Rafe. And how you aren't kissing him now. "Baby, don't think you have to do this because some shitty girls think you should."

"Rafe that's not why. They just helped e realize that I've been ready for a while. I've just been scared but you've given me no reason to be. I'm ready." You take his face into your hands. "I promise."

He doesn't budge.

"Baby, this is taking all of my self-control." His grip on your waist tightens. "Are you sure?"

You pull his face down to meet yours.

"Yes."

He kisses you, finally, and all of your blood rushes down. Rafe's hands slide down your torso, picking you up and placing you on the counter. He breaks the kiss, pulling back, chuckling a bit when you attempt to follow him.

"Hold on. I wanna make this good for you." He removes his hands from your body, placing them on the surface next to you. He swallows. "I need you to be honest with me right now, princess." You flush at the nickname. "Have you ever mast-"

"Yes." The sides of his mouth quirk up. "But I've never," His eyes catch yours again. "I've never, uh, finished." He looks confused for a moment, and then...

"You've never orgasmed?" You shake your head no.

Rafe looks stunned. He breathes a sigh of shock and pushes his hands through his hair.

"Fuck, babe." There is something about the way he's speaking that sends a funny feeling to your core.

He steps back between your legs, setting his hands on your thighs. You disregard the fact that your dress has ridden up and if he looked down...

"We're gonna take it slow, ok princess?" It isn't a question, and you find it incredibly sweet, and hot, that he is taking it slow for you. "I wanna make this good for you." His hands start moving up your thighs, sending goosebumps in their wake. His eyes never leave yours as his fingers slide around the sides of your underwear. "Is this ok?" He whispers.

You nod.

Rafe's hands pull your underwear down and you watch his every move while he keeps his eyes on you, taking in every movement you make. He gently pushes your thighs apart, more so than they already are, and his forehead drops to yours.

"Tell me to stop at any fuckin' time, and I will." You nod, unable to form words, only looking at his fingers dancing across your bare skin.

The two of you watch his hand disappear under the fabric of your dress in silence.

His finger brushes you, ever-so-slightly.

"Rafe." He pulls away, eyes wide but you are quick to pull him back. "Do it again, please." You are breathless by his simple actions.

Rafe takes a deep breath before continuing. Your hands grip his arms for stabilization as he does.

“Fuck. This all for me?” You nod.

“Yes.” He laughs and his fingers slide against you. Your head falls onto his shoulder, hips rolling into his hand.

“Jeez babe, calm down, I’ve barely started.” It’s then that the asshole’s thumb brushes against your clit, sending a shockwave through you.

“Fuck, Rafe!”

He pinches your clit between his thumb and pointer finger, coaxing a moan out of you.

“Shhhhh. Don’t wanna let everyone outside know what we are doing in here do we?” You nod into his shoulder. “That’s right baby. All for me. Doing so well.”

Though you aren’t looking at him, Rafe is grinning at you. He’s noticing everything - your racing pulse from your wrist, the little breaths you take, the sounds he’s pulling out of you, and it’s driving him crazy.

Since you are so wet, for him, he reminds himself, he lowers himself to the floor below you.

“Our seven minutes are up, but I’m down to continue if you are.”

“Please.”

That’s all Rafe needs.

You watch with glossy eyes as his large hands push your dress up further. You watch as he looks at you for the first time. You watch as he grins at you like the devil.

“I lied before.”

“What?” His gaze travels down, landing on where you are waiting for him.

“This is the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”

“What is?” He grins again.

“Letting me do this.” Your response is lost in your throat as Rafe’s mouth connects with your lower body.

It’s the single best thing you’ve ever experienced. And he’s so good at it.

Your hands absentmindedly tangle into his hair, pushing his head into you more which Rafe thoroughly enjoys. His hands pull you closer to him, clearly having a good time below you.

His tongue slides into you and he groans.

“Fuck!”

The vibrations make you even wetter, which adds greatly to Rafe’s ego.

He pulls away and you whine like a kid.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” The cheeky comment, along with his shiny lips and chin, makes your heart soar and your core throb.

“Rafe if you don’t continue I-“ He doesn’t wait for you to finish the sentence, diving back into your cunt, intent on bringing you your high and getting every last drop from it.

Your mouth betrays you when Rafe’s lips wrap around your clit, and you let out the loudest moan Rafe’s ever heard.

“Baby, you gotta keep it down. Save those pretty sounds for me.”

The sight below you is unholy. Rafe between your legs, feasting on you, telling you to shut up.

He’s back to it before you respond and when he slips a finger into you, you’re done for.

Rafe can feel it to. He manages to fit another finger into your tight cunt, the new sensation making you see stars.

“Fuck, fuck! Rafe! I’m gonna-“

Your first orgasm covers all of your senses with a feeling of euphoria. It’s a high you’ve never experienced before.

But Rafe doesn’t stop. He’s intent on giving you the best of the best, and one just won’t cut it for him.

“Rafe, God I can’t-“ He brakes away, just for a second.

“Yes, you can.” His mouth returns an instant later. You’ve read about this before, even watched it, but nothing could prepare you for the real deal. Rafe’s tongue was talented, slipping into you one second and then circling your clit the next. Every little thing he did set you on edge.

Your second orgasm hit faster than the first and Rafe was there to catch every ounce of it.

He let you recuperate, grinning at you as he stood up.

Rafe watched you as you caught your breath. He brought his fingers to his mouth, wanting to savor every bit of you.

“D’ya wanna leave?” He takes in how “fucked out” you look. Your cheeks rosy and flushed, sweaty, all while attempting to calm your breathing.

“Hell yeah.”

PART 2? ANYONE??

??? Did you enjoy ???

I sure did ;)

please i just started rereading and already found a typo

Taglist: @iameatingmyhair @cherrrywraith @lil2023 @lcvrsheart @sophiah2253 @mila1224 @iamlilykrav @emotionalldamage @earthruled @bluuuughh @sunsetargent @kingedmund007 @iluvbunnyhops @steveharie @rafelover @tarrenshayne @stcrkeyluvr @idktheusual @eddiemunson86 @taylorswiftloversera @wh0r3-for-klaus @housekeeperjjswife @wildwallflower24 @poge-life @fuckmelikestilesstilinski @user556677889900 @lonnielain @sachaa-ff @xhaliemax @kravitzwhore @coryisagee @multidimensionalslut @fratboyharrysgf0201 @iheartthe90s @settingmoxn @lewisroscoelove @hannahxhoney @iluvcatslolol @x2skyler @user36376373 @kkmstblog @kinokorii @pickingviolets

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #outerbanks fanfiction #rafe x reader smut #obx #obx3 #outerbanks

[thegoatsongs]

(Following the bad ending, Mina waking up as a vampire in one of the tombs of Castle Dracula after Jonathan carries her body there)

-

The moment she opened her eyes, her whole being was Hunger.

Once the smell that she knew was blood came from the breathing, black-clad body lying with her in a tomb as cold as she, a wild desire came upon her, and she was now pinning it under relentless arms.

She was instinct, bare fangs itching to tear that bag of flesh and bone underneath her apart.

The scent of anything besides blood was a dark blur, yet she was driven to seek fear too. She grabbed the fabric covering the pumping veins beneath and met the eyes; hollow, gleaming in the moonlight.

Why was this man in mourning garments not trembling underneath her adamantine, heartless cruelty? Why was he smiling so sadly up to her?

Why was this invading familiarity hurting?

"Wilhelmina..."

The word deafened the thumping of the arteries in the hand reaching out to her snarling face.

The hand (no, her Darling's hand) cupping her face was cold and tender on her cheek.

A wetness trailed down her cheeks and she saw red liquid drip on his clothes underneath her, staining them.

His thumb simply wiped one of her tears away, and she was again in that sickbed that became their wedding bed, on top of him, as he was looking up at her with these same adoring eyes.

The remnant of his love was supposed to have passed into hate and loathing. Her killing to be done by his hand, with savage delight.

My husband, she tried to assert, but the pain in her wounded throat cut like a bonesaw, but he must have heard it anyway because my wife was his staunch reply.

Her husband bent his head to the hand gripping his collar and kissed the ring in reverence.

She saw through his eyes how the final act had played out: Alone he returned to his old Hell, carrying his other half in his arms for this final visit, and thus he abandoned his place among the stars of Heaven. She understood then where the smell of blood on him had come from, that the snow outside was as stained as her forehead.

But the past was dead like noble old friends with stakes and saws, and there was only the now. No regrets arising from the grave.

In the haze of her mind, she felt a touch of triumph. Her sire's demand for her to devour her man against his will had been overpowered. Could King Saul force his kin to mangle the Beloved intertwined with his soul? Foolish to even conceive. She knew the Vampire would shroud her mind again, but she would not let It take their renewed union and its sanctity away from them.

She lifted her clasping hand away and waited. Wordlessly, her husband presented his dear throat to her.

His caress was tender in her long hair as she sank her teeth, and his sigh filled their desolate chamber. Love surged through her veins, and she was enveloped in warmth.

#dracula #jonathan harker #mina harker #jonmina #holiest love #blood of my blood #dracula au #dracula daily #dracula fic

[alwaysthefool]

Hurts Like Heaven (Dazai x You)

warnings; death, angst, disease, unrequited love, double suicide mention

tags; hanahaki disease

[Author's note: Obligatory definition of hanahaki disease (from fanlore dot com lol)-- Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. In this variation, the reader's symptoms peak up when they actually see Dazai. There's no surgery option in this one 😈]

Fuck, not him again. You could almost cry as you saw Dazai at the cafe, flirting with the waitress, making jokes again. There was no way he wouldn't know as your situation was at its worst, and you couldn't run out because you weren't in the physical condition to. The most you could do was hide your face in your arms and pray he didn't see you. You had decided not to get coffee that day, settling with just green tea to make yourself feel a little better, but you knew just seeing him would give you at least a week's worth of dreams. Just the thought hurt so much. Dazai, who had never outright rejected you, who you could never tell your feelings to, scared of the fatal rejection, but more so, rationally knowing you couldn't give him the love he needed, and he couldn't love you. Your worlds were too different-- you couldn't begin to understand him-- and his heart was elsewhere, unable to love again. You were similar too, both sad with an evil past and tragic fates. The only difference was, unlike you, he could be saved. 

And thus, you let that little dandelion seed of a wish fly out of your hand, only for it to bloom as a petal in your lungs.

You had known him for only a year and started to like him for less than and a half, and it would kill you in only a matter of weeks.

You'd just smile and hide your pain whenever you saw him, excusing yourself and going around back to cough up blood and petals. That didn't hurt as much, neither did knowing you'd die, but what hurt was seeing him. It hurt like heaven. There he was again, with that smile, those eyes that hid a world you couldn't begin to understand, those bandages that you knew hid more than scars, that hair, those hands you wished so badly to touch, even if it would kill you. Death? Blood? What was that? The only thing that caused any substantial pain was the longing, and you wanted so bad to quash it. Your solution was avoiding him and forgetting all about him eventually, no matter how long it took. As long as he didn't appear before you, it would be okay. So why, still, did you decide to stay in the city?

"If it isn't [Name]!" That rich voice chimed, and you heard the chair across you being pulled. Of course he saw you. Of course it would be like that. Of course you couldn't get your night's rest.

Part of your heart bloomed with feelings, and the other wished you hadn't stepped out of your house that day.

You removed your hands from your face, and gave him a weak smile, trying your best not to let the ache in your chest show.

"I feel like I never see you anymore." He pouted those perfect lips as an extremely deadly joke, forcing a few coughs out of you. You immediately turned away, and hid the blood and petals in your handkerchief.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" As if nothing missed his eye, he exclaimed "Is that blood?!"

"Um." You composed yourself again, despite all the pain, thinking of a lie. "Yeah, actually I... I have pulmonary hemosiderosis."

You thanked the knowledge that came from 20 seasons of Grey's, but also slightly cringed at having to keep up a ridiculous lie in front of a detective.

"Do you need any help?" To your dismay, Dazai stood up and sat beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder, making you feel like you'd explode there and then.

Three weeks of bedrest, five weeks of bad dreams, and an even shortened lifespan.

"Please get away from me." You almost cried, closing your eyes and jerking him off reluctantly.

"Alright, just relax, okay?" Even then, he was so cool as you heard him take his original seat. You slowly opened your eyes again, knowing you'd made a mess of your image in front of him. Perhaps his concerned eyes hid a resentment for you, but you didn't care. You just loved him.

"Yeah, sorry, it can be contagious." You lied, knowing he could go home and google that it was not, and hoped he didn't care about you enough to but Dazai stared at you with a look of absolute sternness. Of course he wouldn't believe your lies. But do you know? I wish you knew.

"That so?" He spoke in a way it didn't sound like a question. "Anyway, you do not seem well. Please let me take you to the hospital. Or Yosano, if you're more comfortable with that."

You had already been to Yosano once before, and she told you she couldn't cure that, wishing you all the best as you lied and told her the person you liked already rejected you. He didn't even like you enough as a friend. You were nothing to him, but the unfair universe made him mean so much to you. It wasn't like you didn't understand him. You did, and deeply, but something had gone wrong in both of your destinies that made you end up that way. Dazai was worlds apart from you, and you couldn't reach him. Maybe that pretty girl he had been talking to recently would, maybe someone like Chuuya could, maybe his friends from the agency could, but not you. No, you were just an acquaintance.

And at that moment, you realised no matter how much you tried to ignore him, it wouldn't help-- that you'd die, and you'd feel happy about it. You lost everything to someone like that, all your dreams, your precious life, your esteem and confidence, only for love. Did your life mean nothing beyond that? If you told him, and he reciprocated your feelings, you'd still die from his inciting dream of a double suicide. If he rejected you, you'd die alone. Maybe not doing anything and taking that impossible chance to make your life your own would mean something, despite the disease having a 100% fatality rate if the feelings are not reciprocated.

"No, this is normal, trust me." You finally gave him a reassuring smile. "Besides, I don't think hospitals can help anymore."

"What?" He looked shocked, reaching out to take your hand, and you let him, comforting him instead by rubbing a fragile thumb on his palm . Did he really not know? Why did he look so shocked? Did he care? Those feelings overcame you, and you coughed a little more, apologizing quickly.

"Please tell me there's a way."

You took a deep breath. "Mine's a special case. Even with surgery, there's no chance."

"No..." Dazai looked away from you, outside the window, that pained and distant expression you'd fallen for crossing his face. In that moment, you finally understood it. It was a longingness for something.

"It's fine, buddy." You pulled your hand away from him owing to the ache in your lungs. "I still want to try, you know. I want to live." He still did not look at you as he put his chin on his shaking palm. "And I wish the same for you."

He forced a smile, finally looking at you with those same dead eyes you were always curious about. Now you knew that it meant despair. Dazai was a poem you could only decipher at the brink of your death, and he was far more beautiful and pure than he knew he was.

"If I could, I'd give up my worthless life for yours."

You commanded your lungs and heart to keep at bay, as if telling death you needed a moment before peacefully accepting its call.

"Your life isn't worthless, you know. You did so many good deeds. If you feel like dying, maybe it's because you just need purpose."

Dazai's eyes widened, and it was as if, for a moment, you thought he could love you back, and things would work out, that you could save him and yourself. But those moments were always fleeting, because you knew you had no purpose either, and you'd fall into his vices like you'd fallen for him.

"Do you think you can manage a walk? The weather's beautiful today."

Dazai helped you up, and held you tightly as the two of you walked out, the blossoms from the trees flying about. The scene was almost like a movie, and you knew you were at the end, using the last of your strength to walk, the disease taking over your body completely, the pain being nothing just because he was holding you.

"You're right." You breathed. "It's beautiful. I-"

You wanted to say more to him, you wanted to be held for a little longer, you had so many dreams, and so much you wanted, but your body finally gave out, as you violently coughed blood and petals, Dazai catching you as your feet lost their hold.

"[Name]!" He yelled as he held you in his lap, scrambling his head to find a way to help you somehow, pausing when he saw the petals blossom out of your mouth. Although the thought of you loving someone else hurt him deeply, he still begged you to tell you who it was, whether you had confessed, if there was a chance.

"Hey..." You croaked through tears and coughs. "It's okay, friend. I'm happy to die in your arms."

"Don't say that! You're not dying!" He wished he knew you better to figure out who it was, and you wished he knew you better to know it could be no one else but him. That no one had showed you the kindness he had shown you, that no one helped you life he did, that no one understood you like he did. You were so happy just to have known him. He made your life better despite also making it end; he made it beautiful and gave it a little meaning.

However, you weren't strong enough to tell him all of that, so you chose your final words carefully. "Thank you for everything, Dazai. I was happy to have loved you."

He held you tightly as your eyes closed, those persistent flowers that had plagued you so finally withering as your breathing stopped. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream at you for not telling him, knowing you could be saved because he loved you too. He wished you knew that you could've saved him, that you were enough for him, that he'd overcome his own insecurities and pursued you first instead.

And in the midst of all that regret as he did nothing but hold your still warm form, a single petal bloomed in his lung.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #hcs #bsd fics #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #self insert fics #hanahaki disease #fanfic #bsd osamu dazai #headcanons #drabble #oneshot #angst #major character death

[pomplalamoose]

spending a December with DILF Luke🎄🌟

🕯️🕯️modern day AU🕯️🕯️

A/N: I'm so mad at how wildly busy I am this month, but since this is my first Christmas as a fan fiction author, nothing and nobody will stop me from posting some holiday related fluff!

I sincerely hope you'll have fun with this as well <33

(it isn't necessary to read my other Dilf Luke posts in order to understand what's going on here, but should you have some questions check them out as well🫶🏻)

• because of what happened to his beloved wife, Luke isn't a fan of the winter and the holidays

• he used to be but now all he associates it with is one of the darkest chapters of his life

• for the sake of his child and the rest of his family he tries

• but the sadness sticks to it like syrup and even the littlest of things remind him of what once was

• accordingly it causes quite the drama when your best friend gets invited on a skiing trip at the end of November

• yes, they'll be back just before Christmas but until then?

• they hate to leave their dad alone in his misery, even offered to cancel their plans but he insisted they go

• he wants them to be happy

• so your friend turns to you

• yes, they said they wouldn't involve themselves in anything romance related between you and their dad

• but pleaseee can't you find a reason to stay with him while they're gone?

• yes, they KNOW this will be absolutely weird because of your still unreciprocated crush

• they kind of don't care about that though, you'll manage for sure

• you can borrow their room while they're gone

• "or maybe you won't even need it" they say pulling a face in mock disgust

• eventually, because you know how much they're looking forward to their vacation, you agree

• (and also because of other, more obvious reasons)

• meanwhile Luke is experiencing a wild roller coaster of emotions

• already feeling glum and dispirited like every year, and even more so at the prospect of having to spend his time alone, he was planning to work as much as possible to distract himself from unwanted thoughts

• but when after much hesitation you ask if it'd be okay if you were to stay at his house for, mmh, maybe the next few weeks? he's suddenly ready to ascend straight to heaven

• he'll have you all to himself for nearly the entirety of the month!

• this is his chance

• he's going to make sure you'll enjoy your time with him

• imagine baking the first Christmas cookies of the year together

• it's a bit awkward at first

• although you know the kitchen well you've never actually cooked or baked something in it and thus have no idea where to find the necessary equipment

• no need to worry though!

• Luke definitely owns an old book full of recipes that is handed down in his family and wants you to look through it beforehand

• is there anything you'd like to try?

• or maybe you are able to spot a favorite of yours?

• he easily does the preparations while you're busy reading and so you don't feel quite so useless

• while mixing together the ingredients your sleeves keep slipping down

• because your hands are already covered in the, admittedly, way too sticky dough, you try pushing them up with your forearms instead

• when this doesn't work you attempt to use your chin

• Luke thinks it's absolutely endearing and takes a moment to watch before offering his help

• he gently reaches for you, making sure to roll your sleeves up properly

• coincidentally his warm hands brush over your skin a few times

• it's as soft as he imagined it to be

• possibly he holds on to one of yours wrists for a little bit too long when he's done

• and what about your hair?

• don't you think he should do it up and out of the way as well?

• tying it up in a messy pony tail he tells you to go clean your hands

• in the mean time he'll see what he can do about the dough

• when you return you raise yourself on your tippy toes to take a peek over his shoulder

• you definitely were doing something wrong because it looks perfectly fine now

• maybe you should have put in more flour?

• your thoughts quickly take on a very different direction, however, when you see the way Luke works

• never before did you think something like simply kneading a dough could be attractive

• to distract yourself from the thought of him touching you like that, you decide to have a quick taste

• if the dough is good, the cookies will turn out great as well

• at least that's what your mother always says

• carefully you sneak your hand under Luke's left arm to reach into the bowl

• you don't even want that much, just a little teeny tiny bit

• more quickly than you can react does your hand recieve a playful smack and you pull away with a pout

• don't you know you'll end up with a tummy ache by eating too much raw dough?

• the cookies will be done in less than half an hour, no need to get impatient

• when he isn't looking you stick your fingers into the bowl anyways

• but of course Luke catches you just as you're taking a bite

• he decides then that he might have some fun as well and starts chasing you around the kitchen in mock anger

• your squeals and giggles absolutely delight him

• the oven is doing its work and you're cleaning up together when all of a sudden you catch your reflection in the mirror hanging opposite the door

• looking down at yourself you realize in embarrassment that basically your whole front is covered with a mixture of sugary powder and flour and, is that food coloring right there??

• normally you never end up this messy but this afternoon, it seems, you got carried away a little bit

• of course this had to happen at the worst possible time ever!

• Luke, on the other hand, doesn't look any less perfect than when you started

• typical

• but before you can suggest it yourself he insists on bringing you a change of clothing

• is he going to look through my laundry?, you wonder with a flush to your cheeks

• does he even know where I put it?

• and most importantly: did I look like this the whole time???

• you scrunch up your face and beg for the floor to swallow you whole

• you don't know what exactly you expected Luke to bring to you, maybe a spare pullover your friend left behind?

• instead he returns with something that looks a lot like one of his knitted sweaters

• doing your best to conceal your excitement you pull it over your head, your heart beating fast

• Luke laughs

• it's way too big for you

• "do you need me to roll up the sleeves for you?"

• once the cookies are ready to be taken out you immediately want to try them and happily reach out when Luke offers you one

• he pulls it away as soon as your hand comes close

• "Luke!", you exclaim and again try to snatch it away from him

• he's faster though and dangles it over your head

• a few times you try jumping, then decide to quickly duck around him to get one from the tray

• he easily blocks your way

• at your scowl he can't help but laugh

• when you realize he wants you to eat the cookie out of his hand, by how close he's holding it to your face, you blush furiously

• of course you do as he wishes

• imagine visiting a Christmas market together

• Luke definitely leaves work early so you can go at a good time

• maybe you are a little bit overwhelmed with the amount of people pushing in every direction and so, to not get separated from each other, hold on to his jacket

• he enjoys it immensely and if you come across an especially big throng of people, he might even take your hand until you've made it through

• while you're admiring the lights and all the food and little trinkets to buy, Luke only looks at you

• he's hoping for a chance, any reason, to be closer to you

• so sometimes he waits until you've wandered away from him without noticing and then grabs whatever he can reach to pull you back into him

• when he has you where he wants you, he uses the opportunity to adjust your woolen hat and big scarf

• he's very concerned about you not being warm enough

• do you want something warm to drink?

• he would be happy to buy you anything you'd like to try

• on the way back to the car he has an arm tightly wrapped around your shoulder, hugging you closely into his side

• before he opens the passengers side door for you, he gently wipes the snow off your cheeks and lashes

• at some point he'll take you to an ice skating rink, for sure

• he's pretty good at it and would love to show you how to do it too

• do you need a helping hand?

• are your skates laced up tightly enough?

• don't worry, he's right there to catch you should you slip or otherwise loose your footing

• this is your time to pretend you have no idea what you're doing, even if you're normally able to skate just fine

• cling on to him!

• possibly, because he's SUCH a good teacher you manage to do a few laps on your own at the end

• however you have no idea how to slow down again; your focus was somewhere else entirely the whole time

• would he mind awfully if you were to bump into him full speed to stop?

• he pretends to and gives you a lighthearted scolding for immature behavior

• eventually he laughs just as much as you do

• do you want a Christmas tree for the living room?

• and do you think it would make a nice surprise for your friend when they return home?

• naturally he'll take you with him and turns it into a nice trip

• as soon as he realizes however, that you know the guy who sells them pretty well, he starts to regret his decision quickly

• especially since the both of you seem to get along splendidly

• you end up having a very good time, while Luke glares at the young man whenever he so much as looks at you for too long

• to cool off he pretends to look at his phone a few paces away but is at your side again in seconds when he hears your laugh

• what could possibly be so funny?

• he's fuming until you've picked out a tree you like

• very happy with your selection you eventually embarge on the journey home

• having no idea what's going on inside of him, you thank him for taking you

• you had so much fun and it was great to see, whoever that guy was (Luke couldn't care less), again

• although, you muse, he seemed to grow somewhat strange at the end, wouldn't he agree?

• of course Luke agrees and quietly smiles to himself

• since he pretty much involved you in everything to do with the holidays, he'll ask you to decorate the house with him as well and is relieved when you agree

• while you never seemed to grow bored or in any other way tired of being in his presence so far, he still was secretly worried

• maybe you could install the lights and decorations up high?

• it requires lots of precision and he's sure you'll be able to do it much more quickly than he ever could

• don't worry though, he'll make sure to always stand closely by your side in case you fall

• under no circumstances does he want you to get hurt and regularly checks if the chairs and ladders you are balancing on are sturdy enough

• however he'd be blatantly lying if he claimed there wasn't some ulterior motive to his request

• he knows you're more than capable but nevertheless can't resist to steady you more often than necessary

• just a hand on your lower back here

• or one on one of your legs there

• and because neither of you want the tree to accidentally fall over, he offers to pick you up by the waist

• he likes seeing his hands on you

• how easily you fit into them

• later in December he insists on taking you on a shopping spree

• both of you still need to buy some presents

• and since you refused to tell him what you want or need for Christmas?

• he's set on finding out himself

• the whole time he keeps a very close eye on every single thing you look at, making sure to even remember those that seemed to catch your attention only remotely

• oh and now that you're here at the mall anyways, do you already have an outfit for the upcoming festivities?

• he knows a few very nice stores he can recommend

• coincidentally they have some things he's sure you'll look gorgeous in

• at this point you're very close to the 24th and so you sit down to wrap your presents together

• actually it's Luke who does a lot of wrapping while you simply sit at his side and watch in fascination

• not only is he incredibly efficient but all of his packages turn out looking perfect, like something out of a magazine

• it's not like you're bad at what you're doing either but besides his yours just look slightly messy no matter what you do

• exasperated you ask for his help

• but then he moves to stand behind your chair, leaning in closely to reach around your shoulders

• see? It's actually very easy

• meanwhile you have no idea what's going on and can't concentrate either

• would he mind showing it a second time?

• just a few days later you see your friend again and get to know their entire extended family too

• some uncle brought a mistletoe, which he places above the doorway between the kitchen and the dining and living area

• it's a route everyone has to take many times and much chaos and laughing ensues

• you're enjoying yourself a lot

• your friend's family is just lovely and you end up with many pecks to the cheek while going back and forth as you help to prepare the dinner table

• Luke is watching in distress

• how come he wasn't able to catch you under the mistletoe yet?

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #luke star wars #dilf luke #dilf luke skywalker #star wars #star wars fanfiction #luke skywalker fanfiction #star wars headcanons #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi #fanfic

[astridthevalkyrie]

inferno | enji todoroki x reader | chapter 2

“Why do you want to be a hero?” he finally asks, knowing the answer doesn’t matter. “Doesn’t everyone want to be number one?” You shrug. “If you don’t agree, I’ll tell everyone it’s because I’m a woman and expose you as a misogynist.”

warnings: afab reader with she/her pronouns, age difference, enji's bad parenting

a/n: keigo will be in this fic because i’m a slut but first i’m going to get another todoman down bad

word count: 1.1k

Prev | Next

You meet Touya Todoroki two weeks after your training with Endeavor begins.

And you say Touya Todoroki and not Dabi because when you see him there is no black coat, no gear, no slightly feral grin on his face, nothing that trademarks him as a hero. Instead, he’s decked out in gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt, and he’s guzzling a bottle of water like it’s the last he’ll ever have. A few drops miss his mouth and paint his seared skin, making him look just a little beautiful with the light shining on his bright red hair.

You’re doing push-ups. Three hundred push-ups. So many push-ups that your trainer had left the house to go and get something because he knew you would still be doing push-ups when he returned.

And you are. Pulling yourself down and pushing back up, and at the same time admiring Touya Todoroki’s gorgeous face.

When the plastic bottle is empty, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, which is when he finally hears the pained breaths you’ve been releasing every few seconds. His eyes lock on you, and he stares. You do another push-up.

“Hey,” he greets coolly, setting a flame alight in his hand, “who the hell are you?”

Like father like son, although he’s considerably more chill.

“My name’s Phoenix.” While it would be less rude to stop the workout and greet him properly, it would be all the more pointless to shake his hand since Endeavor would surely break that hand when he returned, just like he’d promised to do if you slacked off. “I’m, uh, your father’s newest student. Fire doesn’t hurt me.”

“That so?” he questions, and then he’s walking up to your designated push-up area and hunching down in front of you on the hardwood floor. 

With a slight flex of his fingers, he presses the pads to your cheek, and activates his quirk.

It’s interesting, what fire does feel like for you. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s not nothingness either, in fact you imagine it feels a lot like what a breeze feels like for other people. Due to your skin’s unique immunity, you tend to feel most other elements in a muted sort of way too, water and air and earth. 

Thus you’ve never had the experience of having butterflies in your stomach from the wind on your face.

You think it would feel a little something like Touya Todoroki burning you.

“Huh. Guess you were right.” His thumb catches a bead of sweat (from the exertion, not the heat) on your chin, and he rubs it right over his chest, right over his…like father, like son. “So you’re the old man’s newest victim?”

“Not a victim. I asked for this.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. I practically forced him to train me. Trespassed and everything.” Finally, your arms give out and you sit up, huffing with a knee app. With an expression more sympathetic than you would expect, he produces a water bottle seemingly out of thin air, handing it to you. Each drop feels like heaven to your throat, and you sit back with a sigh as he does the same.

“Touya,” the man says, a peace offering to a fight that didn’t even start. “Or Dabi. Whichever you prefer, I don’t give a shit.”

“I like Touya.” You test the name out on your tongue, finding the taste of it slightly delicious. “I didn’t expect you to be here, with all the controversy about you and your father I assumed you didn’t see each other much.”

The hero’s head tilts. “So you keep up with the news, huh? Saw my little slam piece?”

“Read it over twice, pinned it to my wall, grinded it up and drank it with my coffee.”

“You’re funny,” Touya says; your cheeks warm a bit. You expect a question about why you’d work with Endeavor after reading the expose, but no such inquiry comes. It seems he approves of you using his father even if he doesn’t approve of his father doing the same to you. Which is slightly unfair, but hey, you really did read the expose, if anyone gets to be unfair to Endeavor, it’s his children.

“I still crash here sometimes. It’s closer to headquarters and much more comfortable than my shitty apartment.” Somehow you doubt a nepo baby pro’s apartment is anything less than lavish, but sure, what the hell. A literal mansion is definitely a cozier place to sleep. “What’s your goal, scorch?” One of his hands runs through his hair, messing it up in a way you recognize as innocently flirtatious as he leans back.

“To be the number one hero.”

“Lame,” he quips, with a smirk.

“No it’s not! I’ll be rich, and famous, and popular, and—”

“And then you’ll wake up,” a booming, gruff voice speaks up from a few feet away, “because it’ll only be a dream if you don’t commit to it.”

Your head snaps up, but not as fast as Touya’s. It’s as if his entire stance shifts, becomes more defensive and offensive at the same time. His already steely gaze turns straight to ice, but he stands and deadpans Endeavor straight in the eye, as though nothing could bother him less.

“Don’t get pissy. I disturbed her, she was doing your fuckin’ training. Just needed to pick up some water bottles. Hope you don’t mind.” The last sentence is a drawl, a mockery, a way for Dabi to tell Endeavor—no, for Touya to tell his father—that he knows that he can do whatever he damn well pleases, and the flame hero will do jack shit to stop him unless he wants to participate in the brawl of public opinion again.

What a family. You take another swig from the water bottle.

Endeavor doesn’t bother with a single disciplinary word. He doesn’t need to, since Touya is already standing and making his way out. “Take whatever you want and leave. She has a schedule to stick to.”

The punishment for stopping to chat to his son will be stiff. You look forward to it, even if your muscles don’t.

“Hey, scorch,” Touya calls, head turned over his shoulder as he opens the door. “Go out drinking with me some time, whenever you get tired of the old man’s shit.”

“Sure,” you coo, but you don’t miss the flash of irritation that passes through Endeavor’s face when the door shuts. 

Jealousy? Over little old you? Aww, at least you can hang on to that memory when he kills you, just to inform your future corpse self that the number one hero is just a big softie.

#mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki x reader #enji x reader #dabi x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki #enji todoroki #endeavor #inferno #valkyrie stories

[lavendermoonlitskies]

Dream A Little Dream of Me fic series (Good Omens) part 4: “Le Chant du Rossignol (Song of the Nightingale)”

Final part to my Good Omens fic series is live! If you’ve read it thus far I just wanted to say thank you and I hope you enjoy the finale :)

Rating: T (mind the tags!!!)

Here’s a short snippet of it:

It was another nice day at last. A day of perfect weather, and the sounds of a bustling city full of people who went about that day generally feeling good. A day without anxiety, the feeling that everything that made this life worth living could be ripped away again at any moment. Such anxiety was simply a fundamental part of who Aziraphale was, but for the first time, something felt different.

Overtime, they fell back into their routine that they hadn’t known since before Gabriel had shown up at the shop, consequently uprooting their entire lives as one thing led to another. A routine that they had adopted after Armage-didn’t where, for four glorious years, Crowley would arrive at the bookshop in the morning with his six shots of espresso in a large cup and a cup of English breakfast tea for the angel, perhaps they’d dine at The Ritz later on, they might eventually wander down to the park to watch the ducks in the afternoon, then the day would end with the two of them sat at a table that Aziraphale had set (miraculously, with a quick snap of the fingers), talking over a bottle of wine until the very late hours into the night. Aziraphale considered this way of life to be rather perfect.

In the days following Aziraphale’s return to this plane of existence, the two of them welcomed back this routine with open arms. The sun was just rising over the bookshop’s skylight when Crowley backed in through the door, cups of coffee and tea respectively in hand. Aziraphale, a bright smile across his face, beamed as he approached the demon and grabbed one of the cups from his hands.

“Oh- angel, I think that’s the-”

Aziraphale’s face contorted as the bitter taste of piping hot pure espresso with nothing else to dilute it attacked his tongue, nearly spitting out the vile liquid. Crowley laughed.

“I think that’s mine,” he said.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh at himself, wiping his mouth with the napkin that had been wrapped around the cup.

“Perhaps those cups shouldn’t be quite so identical,”

The sound of their laughter together filled the air over the gramophone playing some quiet classical music, just how Aziraphale liked it in the morning. This morning, it was a recording of Chopin’s Étude Op. 10, No. 3 in E major. A hopeful piece, one littered with such wistful romanticism that Chopin himself had claimed he’d never written another melody so beautiful. It had reminded him of his homeland, and such a morning had gotten Aziraphale thinking that his home was never in Heaven, but rather anywhere that Crowley could be found right at his side.

Crowley was his home.

The coffee cup slipped through his fingers and toppled over onto the floor, to which Crowley did protest, but such contempt couldn’t last long before Aziraphale’s hands had cupped his face and their lips had connected. Passionately, desperately, they kissed as if it was the last time they ever could. Aziraphale’s tea was long gone as well, though the mess of spilled coffee and tea mixing at their feet was merely an afterthought as Crowley leaned the angel up against a nearby bookshelf, deepening the kiss. The angel relished in this moment of feeling wanted, a feeling he certainly wasn’t used to until he felt Crowley’s hair between his fingers and that same demon’s arms snugly wrapped around him with the same fervor.

-

read the rest here

And here’s a link to all of the parts in order:

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #fanfic #writing fanfic #fanfic author #good omens fanfic #good omens fic rec #ao3 #ao3 good omens #ao3 writer #ao3 series #ineffable husbands #good omens fandom #david tennant #michael sheen #good omens 2 #aziraphale x crowley

[nakachuchu]

CHAPTER NINE: PURGE

Salvation Series

SYNOPSIS: The world was at peace.

WORDS: 1k

WRITTEN: 07/30/2023

In less than twenty-four hours, Inumaki Y/N purged the Jujutsu world of the evilest of curses. Uraume and Yorozu, curses who have lived thousands of years, were choking on their own vomit and blood before Y/N could breathe.

Tsumiki was saved by the roll of Uraume's head, thus erasing Yorozu from every timeline that ever existed.

Covered in blood that was not her own, Y/N held all the power that was left in the Jujutsu world, standing on top of the palace next to Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive.

Her goal had shifted from protecting her descendants to protecting the innocents of the world that were the prey of evil.

She erased every eyesore that lingered in alleyways and temples. She had no time to waste and her actions proved faithful.

The Elders of the Jujutsu world had no choice but to step down in the presence of a woman who could command them to eat their own tongues.

While Gojo Satoru never wanted power, Inumaki Y/N had always been in a position of power. The days of being a god to the people had returned.

Kenjaku was defeated by the Six Eyes once again. He had no chance without the Prison Realm holding Satoru.

"You — "

You smiled. "Come back again and you will face the same results. You are destined to fail, Kenjaku, as a worthless, empty object that holds no significance. Die and stay dead. Should you come back, I will open the Earth in half and chain you to Hell and you will face enteral damnation."

At the cold look in your eyes, he knew he could not win for as long as you lived. As his eyes dimmed, your eyes glowed red like the devil. You had an evil in you that was disguised as a guardian to the innocents — you were just like his vessel.

You raised your fist and Satoru pressed his knuckles against yours, forming a fist bump. Satoru taught you that whilst fighting.

"What shall we do now?" you questioned.

Satoru was quiet for a moment. "Have you ever eaten a crepe?"

"I've not eaten a thing since my awakening," you admitted.

"Let's go eat crepes," he suggested, reaching his hand out.

You placed your hand into his, feeling the warmth and softness of his hands as if he hadn't killed many curses in his lifetime.

"We should mourn," you said instead.

"Well, I don't know about that — "

"Mourning is not a sign of weakness," you told him. "It is a sign of respect. No one will say anything if you chose to mourn your loved ones."

The smile on his face dropped. "Has anyone ever told you you're annoying?" he questioned.

"I suggest we mourn Nanami Kento. I heard he was a great friend of yours."

"Yeah, he was."

You smiled. "Then that seems like a great place to start."

Satoru learned you were annoying in your own way. To others, you were this majestic beauty that descended from the Heavens. To him, you were a sneaky serpent who always knew when to strike.

Despite the smallest nagging feeling tugging away at the hairs on the back of his neck, he gravitated toward you like no other.

Despite knowing to an extent how cruel you could be, he continued to bathe in your company because he knew there was no one like you.

It took centuries for the two of you to meet, and he knew the reason for that was because you would have ruled the world had you met his first ancestor.

Unlike his previous predecessors, Gojo Satoru was the first of his blood to possess the Six Eyes and Limitless.

You could have easily overpowered the first.

You were not innocent, despite the persona you built as a regal woman who put family above all else.

You were a bloodthirsty sorceress who wanted to do whatever you wanted to. You came from a time when the freedom of women was not allowed, but now you would ensure your own freedom.

Satoru and you stopped by a flower shop and bought a bouquet before appearing in front of the grave site.

The two of you approached Nanami's grave, but you lingered slightly behind to give Satoru space.

You closed your eyes and listened to the soundless winds. The world of Jujutsu was slightly more at peace now.

Satoru stood before the gravestone, his heart heavy with a mixture of sorrow and regret. It was a daunting task for a man who struggled to embrace vulnerability.

As he gazed at the engraved letters spelling out Nanami Kento's name, memories flooded his mind. He wasn't even able to be there for this death.

You peered at him. "Do you require more time?"

"No," he replied. "I got enough time. "Come on, let's go get those crepes. I know a great little cafe nearby."

You nodded, a hint of sadness still in her eyes.

At the cozy crepe cafe, the sweet aroma of baking batter and fruit filled the air. Satoru insisted you try a little of everything - nutella, strawberry, lemon, and sugar.

With each bite, he watched your eyes light up.

"This is marvelous," you said after tasting the strawberry one. "I've never had anything like it."

Satoru grinned. "I figured you'd like it. There's a whole world of new things out there for you to experience now." He paused, thinking of those who wouldn't get to see this peaceful world.

Noticing his change in mood, you set your spoon down.

“It's okay to still feel grief, even during moments of joy," you said gently.

He pursed his lips. “Yeah, well, whatever.”

After finishing their crepes, the two of you took a stroll through the city. Though you watched the world through Toge’s eyes, the modern world still amazed you.

"Can we try that?" you asked, pointing at a vending machine.

You walked over to it, basically pressing your face up against the glass. Satoru shook his head with a small smile on his face, then demonstrated how to insert coins and press buttons, retrieving a soda for each of them.

Your eyes lit up as the can rolled out. “How cool,” you said.

Satoru couldn't believe that the bloodthirsty god he saw just days ago could hold this much childlike joy from a vending machine.

You weren't so different from him. There was a part of you that wanted to protect the childhood you never got, just like him.

TAGLIST: @phoenix666stuff @sup-zfam @woozzz @yourfavoritefreakyhan @itsmekalou

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader

[silviakundera]

The Spirealm episode 5 -7 reaction (Let's call this episode 4 now per the new 38 episodes version)

fair warning: in these episode reactions I'm not gonna pretend I haven't read the novel. in fact, I purposely finished the novel before viewing, to get The Full Experience. thus novel spoilers, including twist end, included.

[1] [2] [3-4]

DON'T LEAN ON THE BANISTER ASDFGHJK

Ruan Baijie saving his boyfriend's ass yet again, must be Tuesday.

Then first key!!!! I wanna see the key!!!!!!!!

The survivors: wow, ok, Baijie really loves u

"Are you leaving so soon and reluctant to leave me?" // "No, it's not that," he lies

The suspicious survivors just couldn't resist trying to steal the door note and now no one has the key but the monster NICE GOING 😒

ahh and then the reveal that ofc Ruan Baijie figured out the taboos long before. He saves those who are worthy (aka his new partner).

wow Ruan Baijie is pretty. gifs don't do him justice.

Death match vs the bad hair day from The Ring.

Ep6

The whole scene in the opening of ep 6 is terribly cute. Ruan Baijie exposed as a drama sprite who was faking his injury, but Lin Quishi just accepts this in good humor as he's told this was just to "bring us closer" and for fun. Another round of, you're really picking me? but why?

He really does the, 'come closer' move to make your crush get up close so you can create a sense of intimacy with hushed voices smh

"Because there is light in you."

oh, did you give me this expensive looking necklace because you want me to join your gang?

no, because you are you.

..... misses the very gay pass completely.

(tbh I feel as if the actor is playing it like his character IS sensing the romantic undertones sometimes but doesn't know how to respond/not ready to process it and so represses & pushes it out of his mind and to the side)

Ep 7

They solved the case. Ruan Baijie gives him back the key again, "Still yours." They exchange a romantic look before he steps over.

Our protagonist thinks he's back in reality and only 15 minutes have passed. But of course that's not true: whether he entered the game time A, B, C, or it's the 12th Door theory... he's still in-play.

A roommate?? This must be the Wei what's his face, his One Friend I recall from the novel. With the girlfriend.

Injuries from the door lingering "outside".

Chestnut won't let him hug! (The clue in the novel that this is still within the door. Now, is this a new phenom or was it already Like That in ep 1? 🤔 Remains ambiguous.)

Wait, in this drama the One Friend has heard of Spirealm?! And it's eviiiill reputation. Everyone who plays it "goes insane and commits suicide". Lin Quishi acts like he hasn't already been warned that players die from the game.

Ah, created by a chinese designer who wanted to make a "comprehensive spirit world". The story goes, after he made it he added all the violent elements to the version he sold, to make it a bloody survival game.

'Can't control when you enter the door, can't get rid of it, Men Can Conquer Heaven'.

Bro goes to sleep and startles awake cause Ruan Nanzhu fka Baijie is pulling an Edward Cullen by his bedside. The more intense looking Nanzhu asks him to come along. Naturally, our boy stumbles along and meets!!! Cheng Qianli!!!!!!! 😄😄😄😄 Who is driving, like the scene in the novel. IM SO HAPPY.

Headquarters!!!!! The group!#####!!!! I'm hyped to see them all live & in color.

Emphasized again that once you enter the game, you must complete all 12 doors to get rid of the mental control of the game. ~Mind control~

(because the censors won't allow it to be explicitly supernatural)

(which doesn't mean the writer didn't intend to get around this barrier by using subtext & inferences that novel readers would understand 🤔🤔)

The clue for his next door freaks out the whole house. But then he meets cranky Cheng Yixie!!!!

He's settling in but the moment he glimpses Nanzhu's returned BUT INJURED *gasp* Must scurry down for hurt/comfort UST.

Love how absolutely unnecessary this hand-holding is. Light piano background to set the romantic mood.

A gurgling stomach growl from Ruan Nanxhu & Lin Quishi takes the initiative to stand up and make himself at home to cook for the man who's obviously being positioned as his love interest. (Like in The Untamed & Word of Honor, we're not being terribly subtle here.)

This is the 3rd time we've seen an instinctive caretaking gesture from him towards Nanzhu and the last moment as we fade out is the "boss man" looking down at his newly bestowed bandage and obviously GOING THRU IT. He's making this sigh and curling his fingers and everything.

side note: Lin Quishi is getting flashes of himself trapped under rubble. This is the second time we see them. Are they flash backs? Of a past event he survived, giving him baggage to carry? OR are we circling back again to my alternate, alternate theory that an evil VR game is part of the illusion and this IS the supernatural Doors from the novel that terminal people can get a chance to enter, to prolong or possibly prevent your death? (if so, then Ruan Nanzhu is still indeed the 12th door god. and Lin Quishi must decide to remain in the fantasy or exit & return to reality?)

#the spirealm #the spirealm spoilers #silvia watches the spirealm #cdrama #im gonna queue these thru the weekend but try to space them out #if they annoy u just block the tag silvia watches the spirealm

[mariana-oconnor]

The Bruce Partington Plans pt 2

Last time, we had a very full complement of characters with both Mycroft and Lestrade involved. And a man was found dead on the underground with top secret papers in his pocket, some of which were missing.

I really do wonder why only some of them were missing. It takes more time to go through them and choose some than to just grab the lot and go. Or maybe he had the most important ones out and was showing them to his killer. It's weird.

“Have the carriages been examined for any sign of violence?” “There are no such signs, and no ticket has been found.” “No record of a door being found open?” “None.”

Ghost train...?

I mean, no, this is probably the most spurious supernatural possibility I have thus far suggested. But if he got a ghost ticket from a ghost ticket seller and had it checked by a ghost person at the turnstile and then the ghost train he got on evaporated into thin air after leaving the station?

No?

Fine.

“And a curve, too. Points, and a curve. By Jove! if it were only so.”

...Hm. Well the train would have to slow down for the curve, but also if it's unexpected and he had the door open, I guess the points might cause a bit of a jolt, the curve sets him off balance and out the door he goes. Maybe losing a few papers along the way?

Other than that, and my previous idea that there should be maintenance access particularly to spots where there are points, I can't see what Holmes is getting at here.

“I fear not, Mr. Holmes. The train has been broken up before now, and the carriages redistributed.”

Was this standard practice? It seems very inefficient to separate every carriage of every train and mix them around all the time. Why not just keep them going as they are unless you absolutely need to change them?

'Meanwhile, please send by messenger, to await return at Baker Street, a complete list of all foreign spies or international agents known to be in England, with full address.'

That doesn't seem very secure. I feel like that information should also probably not be sent out to random residences.

Why does Holmes insist on referring to his brother as 'Brother Mycroft' in this story, as well? Has he taken up holy orders and become a monk since we last saw him? We know he's your brother, Sherlock, you don't need to keep repeating it. I know not everyone is as clever as you, but you don't need to keep beating us around the head. We get it.

“The end is dark to me also, but I have hold of one idea which may lead us far. The man met his death elsewhere, and his body was on the roof of a carriage.”

Ah, yes, the curve and the points dislodged him, just off the roof, not out of the door. So he was accosted on a bridge and thrown over the side? Also there'd be less blood from a postmortem injury from falling onto the tracks, or alternatively the blood from the original injury would be elsewhere.

(Although I have no trust in anyone's pathology skills in these stories anymore because... well...🐇🐇)

“Sir James, sir!” said he with solemn face. “Sir James died this morning.”

Oooh, the plot thickens. If this is not related then it is very coincidental.

“Good heavens!” cried Holmes in amazement. “How did he die?” “Perhaps you would care to step in, sir, and see his brother, Colonel Valentine?”

Look... I've been trying not to say 'it must be the Colonel' because I feel like at this point, the joke is too obvious. But now we have the Colonel's brother dead and Colonel Valentine is right there and...

Guys.

Guys.

If the Colonel turns out to be a dick again...

...an instant later we were joined by a very tall, handsome, light-beared man of fifty, the younger brother of the dead scientist. His wild eyes, stained cheeks, and unkempt hair all spoke of the sudden blow which had fallen upon the household. He was hardly articulate as he spoke of it.

Well, this is not a typical Watsonian description of a bad guy. It's a very flattering description, actually. And he seems upset by his brother's death. But is that just put on? Have all of ACD's previous creepy colonels been a long-con mislead for this one Colonel who is good?

“It was this horrible scandal,” said he. “My brother, Sir James, was a man of very sensitive honour, and he could not survive such an affair. It broke his heart. He was always so proud of the efficiency of his department, and this was a crushing blow.”

I had assumed brain fever, but no... broken heart. Not even brandy could have saved him. Just terrible.

“I know nothing myself save what I have read or heard. I have no desire to be discourteous, but you can understand, Mr. Holmes, that we are much disturbed at present, and I must ask you to hasten this interview to an end.”

I know he's grieving, but trying to end the interview early is a bit suspicious. Not a lot suspicious, but still a bit. I mean, he's a colonel.

"Arthur was the most single-minded, chivalrous, patriotic man upon earth. He would have cut his right hand off before he would sell a State secret confided to his keeping. It is absurd, impossible, preposterous to anyone who knew him.”

Hey... his name's Arthur? I had kind of assumed that he just had the first name Cadogan, but no. Double surname. This has happened before. Arthur is a far more boring name than Cadogan. Pity.

New theory, to explain why he only had some of the papers on him. He knew that the plans were stolen and went to recover them, but was murdered by the real bad guys (maybe a colonel? who can say) and then they slipped the unimportant papers into his pocket and threw him off the bridge onto the top of the train to frame him for the theft and ensure no one was looking for another mole.

“No; his needs were very simple and his salary ample. He had saved a few hundreds, and we were to marry at the New Year.”

Nowhere is inflation more apparent than the line 'he had saved a few hundreds'. Lolol! Although even with inflation this would be a few ten thousands, which won't last you very long today. Especially with a wedding coming up.

“Yes,” she said at last, “I had a feeling that there was something on his mind.” “For long?” “Only for the last week or so. He was thoughtful and worried."

As you would be if you knew there was a spy and you were worried about confronting them and stopping treason. Perfectly reasonable.

“He said that we were slack about such matters—that it would be easy for a traitor to get the plans.”

It's official, the only competent person in the government has been killed trying to cover for everyone else's incompetence. I mean, he still failed to protect the secret, but still. The Colonel's all 'my brother was so proud of his department's efficiency', when his department was as leaky as a sieve.

RIP Arthur. I believe in you.

"We walked, and our way took us close to the office. Suddenly he darted away into the fog.”

Impressed that he managed to witness the crime when the smog was so thick people couldn't even see a body fall off the roof of a train in a tunnel. But sure. This would have been earlier in the day. Although in November the sun would be setting at, what? 4:30/4pm? Unless they were going to the matinee, there wouldn't have been daylight.

“It was black enough before against this young man, but our inquiries make it blacker”

I assume Holmes must be thinking along the same lines as me. Also suddenly dashing off in the middle of the fog and leaving your fiancee as witness would be a terrible heist. If he's been planning this for so long, surely he'd come up with something better than that.

Mr. Sidney Johnson, the senior clerk, met us at the office and received us with that respect which my companion's card always commanded.

Ooh, a new suspect. Or has he been mentioned before. I don't remember him, though. But he has the potential means and opportunity.

He isn't a colonel, though, so clearly that's a mark against him in the suspect pool.

“The place is disorganized. The chief dead, Cadogan West dead, our papers stolen. And yet, when we closed our door on Monday evening, we were as efficient an office as any in the government service."

I feel like there might be a disconnect here between 'efficient' and 'secure'. Clearly they're cutting corners on security to get things done more quickly.

“Only Sir James Walter and you had those keys?” “I had no keys of the doors—only of the safe.”

You know who has access to Sir James' keys? His brother the colonel! Well, and Sir James himself. Maybe he did it and then died from the shame and guilt.

Or it was the Colonel

(Is it going to be the Colonel? Seriously?)

"One other point: if a clerk in this office desired to sell the plans, would it not be simply to copy the plans for himself than to take the originals, as was actually done?”

I mean, yeah.

“It would take considerable technical knowledge to copy the plans in an effective way.”

Would it? Would it really? I can copy out a sentence in Korean so that people can read it. I can't read or write Korean, but I can copy it. I feel like copying things doesn't require a lot of technical knowledge. A photocopier can do it, after all. You just have to have a steady hand and an eye for detail.

"The double valves with the automatic self-adjusting slots are drawn in one of the papers which have been returned."

... did you have to be that specific. These are secret plans, right? Maybe don't go talking about the details of them with people?

Finally he asked the chief clerk to close the iron shutters, and he pointed out to me that they hardly met in the centre, and that it would be possible for anyone outside to see what was going on within the room.

In the smog? In the dark? I guess the dark would help, because whoever was in there would have to light a lamp, but still. Arthur and Violet must have walked really close to the building. Super secure building.

"Why did he not do so? Could it have been an official superior who took the papers?"

Or a Colonel?

Or Sir James, I guess... or Mr Johnson. We shouldn't stereotype colonels just because almost all the ones we've met so far have been dicks. They weren't all the bad guy. Some of them were just dicks.

It's possible there's one good colonel left in London.

'There are numerous small fry, but few who would handle so big an affair.'

It's so amusing to me that Mycroft just knows this about the spies. He's just like 'these are the important spies' and Mycroft just has a list of their addresses ready to go. They have a real 'I know that you know that I know that you know, but no one is saying anything because that would cause an international incident and we have no proof we can actually use' vibe going on here. Espionage is so weird, guys.

'Am dining at Goldini's Restaurant, Gloucester Road, Kensington. Please come at once and join me there. Bring with you a jemmy, a dark lantern, a chisel, and a revolver.'

Well that's certainly a place to end the section.

Sounds like next time will be a lot of fun.

But is the Colonel the culprit? He doesn't seem to have any sort of implication towards him at this point. It's far more heavily weighted towards his brother being overcome by remorse.

But... he is a colonel.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Bruce Partington Plans #Long post #I don't think I do remember this one #Though I must have watched it/read it at some point #My memory is terrible

[gsirvitor]

When human life, a shame to human eyes, lay sprawling in the mire in foul estate, a cowering thing without the strength to rise, held down by fell Religion's heavy weight — Religion scowling downward from the skies, with hideous head, and vigilant eyes of hate — First did a man of Greece presume to raise his brows and give the monster gaze for gaze.

Him not the tales of all the Gods in heaven, nor the heaven's lightnings nor the menacing roar of thunder daunted. He was only driven by these vain vauntings to desire the more to burst through Nature's gates and rive the unriven bars.

And he gained the day; and, conqueror, his spirit broke beyond our world and past its flaming walls, and fathomed all the vast. And back returning, crowned with victory, he divulged of things the hidden mysteries, laying quite bare what can and cannot be, how to each force is set strong boundaries, how no power raves unchained; and now Religion lies trampled by us; and unto us 't is given fearless with level gaze to scan the heaven.

Yet fear I lest thou haply deem that thus we sin and enter wicked ways of reason. Whereas 'gainst all things good and beauteous 't is oft Religion does the foulest treason.

Has not the tale of Aulis come to us and those great chiefs who, in the windless season, bade young Iphianassa's form be laid upon the altar of the Trivian maid?

Soon as the fillet round her virgin hair fell in its equal lengths down either cheek, — Soon as she saw her father standing there, sad, by the altar, without power to speak, and at his side the murderous minister, hiding the knife, and many a faithful Greek weeping — her knees grew weak, and with no sound she sank, in speechless terror, on the ground.

But naught availed it in that hour accurst to save the maid from such a doom as this, that her lips were the baby lips that first called the King father with their cries and kiss.

For round her came the strong men, and none durst refuse to do what cruel part was his; so silently they raised her up, and bore her all quivering, to the deadly shrine before her.

And as they bore her, ne'er a golden lyre rang round her coming with a bridal strain; but in the very season of desire, a stainless maiden, amid bloody stain she died — a victim felled by its own sire — That so the ships the wisht-for winds might gain and air puff out their canvas.

Learn thou, then, to what damned deeds Religion urges men.

Freedom of Thought - by William Hurrell Mallock, originally by Titus Lucretius Carus, Roman poet and philosopher.

Upon reflecting on my recent ban, I have come to accept a new religion grips the throat of man, one of the worship of the state and the absurd, one that wishes nothing more than to turn clowns into rulers and silence those who speak out against the illiberal ways the world is ran.

This site is a haven for the most depraved and debauched of fanatics, and those who run it are bent on running any and all out who show modicum of clear and sane rationale, you use medical terms and it is deemed hate speech, you post sourced and cited research that goes against the collective and you are labeled a sinner, you even allude to the fact you are white or straight you get mass reported by a gaggle of sycophants.

The Left is a Cathedral and we must strike down its foundations, why do I say this? Because I am a Liberal, and Liberalism is not conducive with censorship.

Liberalism is a political and moral philosophy based on four foundational rights, that of the individual, liberty, consent of the governed and equality before the law. 

From these four foundational rights the other rights under liberalism can be derived, those being private property, market economies, individual rights, including civil rights and human rights, liberal democracy, secularism, rule of law, economic and political freedom, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom of assembly, and freedom of religion and the right to the defense of self and property.

The Left is anathema to Liberalism, as the Left is made up of Socialist and other revolutionary ideological frameworks, while Liberalism spawned Libertarianism and Conservatism.

Anyway, this has been my post ban vent post.