#but it works more often than not. so thought id share :)

[lullalbee]

✰ Shared Thoughts ✰

A Francis Mosses x GN!reader, chapter 1

Warnings: Gets steamy but no smut, no pronouns for reader but afab anatomy is used, francis calls reader ‘darling’, he also pleads for like one sentence ik you guys like that, not proofread <3 this is so bad and so self-indulgent i'm so sorry

Word Count: 1.7k

The tenant grumbled, barely keeping open your tired eyes, latching onto your ID and entry request as you waited for your turn to be interrogated just so you could be let into your own home. For a while, you thought the precaution was stupid until you experienced a “code red” for yourself. Typically, you were amongst the last to arrive at the apartment building, considering you worked late nights, almost every night. You didn’t mind it, really, as you had lots of free time living alone, so that meant you were home during the early hours of the day when most tenants had left and wouldn’t return home for a few more hours, and by that time, you’d be gone yourself.

You knew today would be especially tough entering the building, as you were called in to work suddenly, so you couldn’t put in a request in time to be put onto the list for today. Once it was your turn, your trudged along to the window, passing in your papers through the metal slit.

“Why aren’t you on the list?” The doorman asked, brows furrowed, clearing searching for any signs the tenant was a doppelgänger. “Got called into work suddenly, wasn’t able to put my name on the list.” You explained, voice as monotone as ever. The doorman nodded, checking over a few things and making a phone call, before finally letting the tenant in.  You gave a small thanks, grabbed your papers back, and walked through the door. Sighing, you stepped into the elevator, ready to press the “four” button.  As you stepped back against the elevator, all your thoughts and anxieties began surfacing, most of them being of doppelgängers. What if the doorman let in one, killing us all? You didn’t doubt their abilities, but the thought always crossed your mind, with how often the alarm went off.  The elevator stopped with a ding! on the second floor, letting in another tenant of the building, Francis Mosses. 

You thought of yourself as fairly close with Francis. A lot closer than the typical tenants are with the others. You two enjoyed each other's company, giving small hello’s as you passed by, small talk exchanged whenever he’d deliver the milk you’d ordered. There were a few times, as well, where you hung out at the other’s place, your shared exhaustion over your careers being a driving factor in the start of your friendship.  Now and then, in the pits of night, you found your mind drifting to the thoughts of Francis. How his bicep flexed as he lifted up the milk carrier, his button-up shirt tightening ever so slightly around his arms and elbow, leaving little to the imagination. Or how his sensual, monotone voice sent shivers down your spine.  But your relationship was purely platonic of course. These feelings would never be acted upon nor would they be reciprocated… “Hello…? Earth to Y/N?” You were snapped out of your thoughts as the familiar voice filled your ears.   “Huh? Oh, sorry…” You mumbled, chuckling awkwardly. “Just.. tired from work.” I was totally not thinking about you… You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, both out of embarrassment and just from him looking at you.

“Mmm… Okay…” Francis nodded, albeit suspiciously. You prayed he didn’t notice the blush, and if he did, won’t say anything about it. Hopefully, he was up for as much conversation as you were at the moment… God knows what you would do to just lay down and take a nap right here. You both stood in awkward silence, avoiding eye contact before Francis got off on the next floor. You breathed a sigh of relief, mentally berating yourself for allowing that to happen. Once the elevator stopped on your floor, you bolted out and headed immediately to your apartment. There was always something so eerie about the hallways that made you want to be in them as little as possible. You struggled a bit with inserting your keys into the keyhole, but eventually, they implied and allowed you in. Closing, and locking, the door behind you, you breathed out, not even aware you were holding your breath.  You looked around your apartment, everything in the same place as it was before. Good. No doppelgängers have been in your home. The apartment was rather small, but that’s alright since you were the only person here. It was cozy that way. Trudging through the tiny hallway, you made it to your room, changing out of your work clothes and into some more comfortable ones. Immediately, you plopped down onto the bed and began drifting off to a dreamless sleep.  …Was that the sound of the phone? Well, it’ll be alright…

After what felt like only a few minutes, you heard someone knocking at your door, rather quickly. Begrudgingly, you sat up and got out of your bed, combing through your hair with your fingers to try to smooth down any bed head that developed in the small frame of time you were sleeping. You stood up, attempting to make yourself slightly presentable. Making your way to the door, you glanced at your rotary phone which sat on a small table next to the couch. You paused for a moment, wondering if the ringing you heard was real, but shrugged, assuming it was nothing.  You looked through the peephole of your door, spying the one and only Francis Mosses, at your door. He wasn’t in his usual milkman garb, but rather some common, everyday clothes. Quickly, you unlocked your door, opening it to greet Francis. “Oh, hello.” You gave him a soft smile, cocking your head slightly. “Are you off the clock?” “Yeah, my uh- my shift ended not too long ago.” He swallowed, nodding. “Wanted to check on you, you seemed real exhausted earlier.” “Well, you did just wake me from a life-saving nap, but that's alright.” You quip, giving him a smirk as you move out of the doorway, allowing him in.

“Oh, I’m- I’m sorry, I can go–” “No, no.” You shake your head, furrowing your brows. “Stay, please.”  He smiled at you, seemingly relieved you didn’t let him go. Internally, you were screaming, he never showed up to your apartment unless you had a pre-planned hang-out session, or he was doing his rounds, delivering the milk.  “Do you want anything? A snack, or…” You ask him, walking towards your tiny kitchen.  “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.” He said in that monotone voice that made your knees turn to jelly. Francis went and sat on the couch, you following close behind. “I, uhm.” He began, looking away. “I wanted to talk to you… I’ve been, thinking a lot. Since we talked in the elevator.”  Oh fuck, he’s so creeped out by me, isn’t he, you panic internally, but barely manage to scrape together your composure. “Oh- I’m sorry, about that I–” You started before he interrupted you.  “I’ve been thinking about… you specifically.” He gulped, causing your heart to race. “Now, you can slap me if you think I’m creepy or anything, but I’ve thought about just us in general for a while, long before the elevator. Y/N, I–” He grabbed your hand, looking you in the eyes, his own clouded with infatuation and something else you couldn’t quite make out. Before he could finish his sentence, you cupped his cheek with your free hand and kissed him with so much desperation your teeth clinked together. He was taken aback by this, not reciprocating, causing you to panic and think you misread the situation so you pulled back, breathing heavily. “Fuck, did I- Did I fuck that up? Oh my god, I’m so–” He cut you off with a kiss of his own, holding the back of your head with his hand, keeping his grasp on you as he kissed you with a lot more passion and less desperation than the first. Immediately, you kissed back, snaking your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss.  He broke the kiss first, to catch his breath. You smiled at him, letting out a small laugh. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.”  “Oh, but, I think I do,” Francis smirked, eyes darkening. “I’m a lot more perceptive than I think you realize. I’ve seen the glances you’ve stolen.” This caused you to blush and cover your face, burrowing into the crook of his neck. He maneuvered his head to give you a small kiss on your own, still smiling. “It’s cute, ‘loved knowing at least one person was paying attention to me.” He chuckled as you raised your head, still blushing fervently. He leaned in for another kiss, but this time it was much more needy, resting one hand on the nape of your neck and the other on your hip. Your hands entangled themselves in his hair, pulling your bodies as close together as possible. 

“I’ve thought of you, so many nights.” You whispered between kisses. “Trust me, me too, darling.” Francis groaned, biting down on your lip. You decided to tease him and keep your mouth closed. In turn, Francis snaked the hand on your hip up under your shirt, causing shivers to be sent up your spine, as you moaned into the kiss, which Francis took as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring every crevice he could, mapping and memorized the sensation.  You tugged on his hair, causing a moan from him to vibrate through you as he explored the inside of your mouth, your arousal growing further in your core. He cupped your breast through your bra, causing you to break from the kiss for a moment and moan his name, him looking at you, pleadingly, for consent to go further. You gave him an over-enthusiastic “yes” just before you kissed him again, but before either of you could continue further on, a loud ring ran through your house, coming from the doorbell. Whimpering a little, disappointed you had to pause your wonderful makeout session with Francis Mosses, you stood up, smoothing out any wrinkles on your clothes. Heading towards the door, you ponder over who it could be. You knew you shouldn’t have any visitors today, and you certainly weren’t close enough with your other neighbors for a surprise one. As you leaned up to peek through the peephole, all you were met with were eyes just like your own, a face sculpted just like yours, with the most sinister smile plastered on. It was your doppelgänger.

#francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #i need this man carnally #im so down bad its insane #this is also so bad and so self-indulgent #also cross-posted on ao3 #tnmn #milkman #milkman x reader

[rthko]

i'm not a gaylor, couldn't care less about that woman, but ngl that thread got me thinking. do you think it would be fair to posit that classic pop fandom presumes heterosexuality from the female stars it consumes? the figure of the diva specifically feels very straight woman centered, the only exception i can think of being maybe lady gaga. well i guess everything presumes heterosexuality from everyone, but it does feel slightly different in this case imo

I think it's a fair observation. A lot of gay men, starting in childhood, strongly identify with women in media. As kids without known queer friends or role models, who knew we didn't relate to most other boys, we often thought of ourselves as more similar to girls. I obviously can't say this is universal among gay men but it's common enough that, for example, I can talk about how badly I wanted to be Anne Hathaway with a group of like minded gays and no one will find it unusual. Others will even chime in with the women they wanted to be! And I think this sort of identification often comes down to identification with women as desiring agents (making it easier to express attraction to men) and as siblings in abjection. Like, the boys are mean to you? Us too. Let's play house at recess about it.

I make it sound very adolescent, and that's where it seems to start, but it's also because there's no guarantee it will turn into any sophisticated friendship or political affiliation with women. I think diva worship, fag/hag relations, and anything similar are morally neutral. It can speak to genuine interest and support, or it can be a patronizing charade that refuses to relate to women beyond an expected shared attraction to men. I can't say that diva worship is any one thing because it can come from a place of genuine respect for a woman's artistry and be a symbolic outlet of gender expression or a parasocial mess.

Lady Gaga is herself an interesting example because yes, she is bisexual, but that doesn't really come up in her diva treatment. But the example of Taylor Swift, as discussed in the thread you're mentioning, is also unusual. The accusation, for the unacquainted, is that gay men aren't sympathetic to "Gaylor" because they want her to be straight so they can give her the diva treatment. But, and I mean no offense by this, that's not really the reason most people like her. Everything about her public image is too personal and "relatable" for her to fit that larger-than-life mold. Clearly that works for her, clearly that has yielded results, but personally I find her most interesting when she knows she's delivering a fantasy. If this seems like a superficial way of viewing art, I would counter that treating an artist as a detached patron saint of glamour and obsessing over every detail of their personal life are two sides of the same parasocial coin.

I think the ideas that are really in conflict in the "Gaylor" vs "Hetlor" debate (and for the love of God come up with a more tasteful name for the latter) is not really whether Taylor Swift is queer or straight. I'm sure you'll agree that not being onboard with Gaylor does not mean someone has a specific investment in her heterosexuality, because most of us don't really care. The conflict is between two different ways of relating to art. Rather, it's about relating versus resonating. Even if Taylor Swift is gay, hardly anything about her life, as might be explained by her wikipedia page, is relatable. But maybe one resonates with the pressures of having to please everyone, to the dehumanization of men's "Madonna-whore" complex towards women, to heartbreak, to dancing it all away. And maybe one specifically relates from a queer perspective. Go for it! It's unfortunate that Creep by Radiohead has a bad reputation, because I and a lot of other queer people find it really resonant. I don't get crushes on straight guys like I used to, but when I did it was humiliating! It wasn't the prospect of their rejection that hurt, but the idea of being repulsive and looking in from the outside at a world you will never belong to. It speaks to a queer perspective, but I don't have to wonder if this was intentional or if Thom Yorke himself is gay to see it.

I think, memes aside, the Internet is excessively cruel to Swifties. Even with Gaylors, I feel for their need to identify with an artist they feel feel expresses an underrepresented point of view. No, James Somerton, a handful of children's cartoons does not prove that lesbians are winning the representation war. But I also want to say to them that, a perceived lack of representation aside, no one is forcing you to speculate about this woman's sexuality. If she is just as straight as she claims to be, that doesn't have to ruin your queer readings of her work. If a straight woman sang the words "you can want who you want; boys and boys and girls and girls," and it came from the heart, good for her.

This was all very characteristically meandering of me and only kind of answered your question. I agree that a lot of gay men's interest in women is stunted by the expectation that they could only bond over shared attraction to men. I think gay men owe queer women the world. I also just don't really think this applies to the Gaylor thing. She is, as far as anyone knows and as far as she herself has stated, a heterosexual woman. That said, I do agree that the lesbian diva is an under-explored archetype that I'd love to learn more about.

[sweaterweatherever]

Truce (Xavier Thorpe x reader)

In which the most famous rivals from Nevermore call a truce for a game night and figure out they don't hate each other nearly as much as they thought.

Pairing: AFAB Reader x Xavier Thorpe.

Warnings: Smut. +18 only. Enemies to lovers, underage drinking, cursing, drunk making out, oral sex (Female receiving) protected vaginal sex. (You know it, wrap it before you tap it)

A/N: Aged up characters, maybe their last year but 18 or older (Actor is 21) First attempt at smut and first post ever. Not a native english speaker, so be gentle. My request are always open!!!

You couldn't remember how it started, but as long as you remembered, Xavier Thorpe and you were rivals. You were in each other's throats all the time, in and out of the art room. While you weren't a psychic capable of art animation, you had known since you were five years old that you would make art for a living. Unfortunately, you could recognize talent when you saw it, and Thorpe had it in spades. But did it really mean something when he probably had the best teachers money could buy?

Yes, you envied him. You did and weren't ashamed to admit it. He had the safety net and resources you so wanted to pursue your passion. He had cool, helpful powers and money to support him. You… well. It's not like you were poor, but your parents had to work hard for a living. You came from a middle class family, who was betting everything on you graduating from Nevermore with good grades and getting into a college with a sensible major.

So, no. You didn't like Thorpe. You were only tolerating him for the sake of Wednesday. She was the one you liked. It wasn't mutual, by any chance, but her attending Nevermore helped you. She took Thorpe out of your hair often enough. Like last semester, while he was busy panting after her like a lovesick puppy, you got loads of time alone in the shed Weems forced you to share.

Besides, Yoko had begged you to come, she didn't want to be the third wheel between the couples. And you liked Enid too. Yeah, you were only showing up for this game night for the girls.

Thorpe always found something to pick on you about, so you took special care in your appearance, but not enough to look like you made an effort, because if he noticed, he surely would laugh about it too. Yoko didn't comment on your sudden need to put lip gloss and mascara on, except from a snide remark about hugging the mirror.

You entered Wednesday and Enid's dorm carrying a bag full of cheap alcohol. You weren't a drinker, but as the shape-shifter on the group, you were the one who bought it looking like an elderly lady. Elderly enough to not get asked for ID. Ajax cheered at seeing you, startling Enid, who was reclined against his chest. Wednesday only looked at you, unblinking. And Thorpe…

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in…the half assed Mystique.” He was sitting on Wednesday's desk, looking like an overgrown parrot and surely making a nuance out of himself. You tried not to stare at the way his impossibly long legs extended, and his hair was pulled back from his face, showing a pale, long neck.

“Does that make you Charles Xavier?” You quipped, looking at Thorpe with eyes full of venom. “Because if so, darling, you surely need cerebro.”

“Charming.” He smiled at you, eyes squinting in a way that was obviously fake. “As always.”

“I know. I can't help it. Being nice to you is an act of charity.” You passed the bag to Yoko, and sat down in the middle of the floor, eyeing the game Enid, Ajax, and Wednesday seemed to be playing. It was something with… Envelopes?

“Could you two cease your meaningless squabbling?” Wednesday asked, and you finally realized they were playing Clue. “We are trying to solve a murder here.”

“Yeah, just cut it with the foreplay and fuck already.” Ajax took a beer out of the bag and opened the can. Which one, disgusting, two, rude. You were more offended at the fact he opened your fucking bag without permission than the joke, used to it already. Everyone loved enemies to lovers, after all. And Nevermore teens weren't so different as they liked to think.

“No, thanks. I'm done with charity for today.” You said instead of voicing all that out loud.

“Are you so full of yourself, princess?” Thorpe asked, and you felt the impulse to throttle him. You hated that nickname, maybe because you liked it a bit much, and that made it a can of worms you didn't want to open. You took a deep breath, ignoring his satisfied smirk at being able to rattle you.

“No. But we both know I'm so out of your league, lover boy, it's not even looking like a league, but instead two different galaxies.”

“Ohh, kitty got claws…” Yoko snickered, taking a sip of her pre prepped Bloody Mary. Wednesday looked vaguely amused at the situation, while Ajax was just nursing his beer happily. Enid was looking anxious, probably anticipating when one of you would cross the line and go from petty snarking at each other into a full-blown fight.

“Sure you are, pretty girl. Sure you are. Especially when we talk about talent, because I make your drawings look like…” So he was the one crossing the line tonight. A dig at your artwork? That was a new low, even for him. Good to know. But before you opened your mouth to say something that would probably make him snap, Enid interrupted.

“That's enough!” Enid said, with a tense smile. “How about we play another game?”

“Sure.” You said, tersely. Thorpe made a face, probably mocking you. You ignored him.

“What you have in mind, babe?” Ajax asked.

“Surely something so stereotypical and inane like Never have I ever or Truth or Dare.” Wednesday drawled, picking up the bag of alcohol and tossing back a shot of cheap whiskey like it was nothing. “I'm not drunk enough to partake yet.” She explained.

“Ohh, Never have I ever sounds fun with this crowd.” Enid said, taking a beer out of the bag and passing it to you. “Xavier, get closer.” Enid ordered.

“So, the options are terrible, and I'm not touching Wednesday's whiskey because that shit will lift paint.“ Thorpe said, squatting next to you and taking a peek at the bag. You already knew it´s contents, being the one who had bought it. Thing was, your budget was limited, so you had warm beer, the cheapest whiskey in the store and flavored vodka. You went for the vodka, but Thorpe's hand grabbed your arm and stopped you. “What do you say, truce, and we share?”

“You got yourself a deal, Thorpe.” The idea of having to share the bottle with him was more appealing than having to drink warm beer, and you could be generous once in a blue moon.

“Please, call me Xavier.” He grinned, all boyish charm, and suddenly you could see the appeal.

“Y/N then.” You said, passing him the bottle. Xavier opened it and offered it to you. You just held onto it, suddenly realizing that without glasses, you and Xavier would have to drink straight from it. You put it down.

“Alright, everyone who did it drinks.” Enid remembered. “I'll go first, never have I ever stolen anything.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, but took a shot out of her whiskey. You went to grab at the bottle, but Xavier was faster, taking a swing of it before you.

“Fuck, we were wrong. This is so bad, even Wednesday thing is better.” He said to you, grimacing.

“Give me that, crybaby.” You said, taking your own shot of the bottle and almost spluttering. The vodka tasted like a straight out rubbing alcohol, burning at your throat and almost feeling it in your nose. Your eyes felt runny. “I take it back.” You gasped.

“Okay, so Wednesday has a story of it but,“ Yoko said and Wednesday looked proud. ”What did Xavier and Y/N stole? He surely seems the type, but I didn't think Y/N…”

“Nope. Not talking about it.” Xavier smirked. “What about you, princess?”

“Oh, it's a boring story. When I was a child, my mom loved to go to home decor stores, and there was this one in particular that had ceramic display, for the bathroom and stuff. Every time we went, I took the smallest and most colorful tile, until my mom caught me.” You said, and Wednesday looked disappointed. What could you said, you weren't exactly a criminal mastermind. Ajax and Yoko took one look at you and started laughing uncontrollably.

“That's…” Enid started saying, no doubt trying to be kind.

“Kind of cute, actually. So you always loved colors?” Xavier asked, and you couldn't figure out if he was making fun of you or not, so you answered pretty neutral.

"I always loved art, if that's what you are asking me.” He gave you a look you couldn't descifrate.

“Okay, my turn. Never have I ever… Let's make this fun, guys… Thought Xavi was the Hyde." Ajax said, with a smirk. You sighed, relieved you didn't have to drink anymore of that thing.

Wednesday, Enid, and Yoko all took sips from their drinks.

"Really?" Ajax asked, looking at you.

"He was always alone with me in the woods. He clearly hates me, but never did anything and trust me, he had the chance. Besides, Thorpe here is a softie." You explained, rubbing a ink stain on your finger. Your tongue felt looser than usual. The vodka must have been strong, so you decided to pace yourself from here on.

"I don't hate you." Xavier muttered, when the rest had lost interest.

"Sure you don't."

"Right. Never have I ever worn pink." Wednesday deadpanned. You took a shot, and so did everyone else in the group.

By the time it was your turn, you were, well, not drunk but close enough. You had been careful, only taking little sips because you were drinking vodka straight from the bottle. You had been slowly leaning onto Thorpe's space, and he didn't seem to care. He was, just like you, an affectionate drunk.

"Never have I ever… Had a crush on Wednesday." Both Xavier and Enid drank. You suppressed a smile.

“That. That.” Yoko said, taking a gulp of her Bloody Mary. “I didn't see coming.”

“You can both lose all your hopes now. “ Wednesday said, with a murderous glint in her eyes. “I don't have any desire to become a clone of my parents.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, princess? Because that felt targeted.” Xavier put an arm around your shoulders, putting the bottle of vodka on the floor.

“Keep telling yourself that.” You snorted. “So the crush is over?”

“Real subtle.” Ajax muttered, sharing a glance with Enid.

“That your way of asking about my relationship status?”

“Nope. Just curious.”

“Oh, princess, you are so dumb it's funny.” Xavier smirked, his hand playing with a stray lock of your hair.

“Asshole.” You didn't attempt to remove his hands from your person, because, well, you were drunk, and he was warm and comfortable. Only that.

Wednesday suddenly stood up, walking towards her cello.

“I find myself in need to ponder something. You can leave if you want.”

“Wednesday!” Enid chided. “Don't be rude.” But the back haired girl was already playing the first accords of “La Llorona” which you didn't think was going to work in a cello, but it did.

“Ohhh, talent show.” Yoko clapped. “Surely Y/N and Xavier could show off too…?”

“Only one of us here can animate things, and it's certainly not me.” You said, finally getting up. The room did not move, which you thought was a good sign. You felt a little wobbly, but you could manage.

“Come on, Y/N.” Enid insisted. “Don't you want to finally settle your rivalry?”

“Not when he has an unfair advantage and an already inflated ego.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don't be mean, princess. We can even use your preferred medium, only pencil and paper. No powers, I swear.”

“Fine.” You stole two pencils and a notebook from Wednesday's desk. “What will we draw?” You asked, offering one to him. You were seriously hoping he didn't ask for something with straight lines, because you weren't sure you were sober enough for it.

“Do me! Do me!” Enid begged. You looked at Xavier, his eyes shining with a competitive glint.

“Fine by me.” He said, turning, so he was sitting in front of you.

“Thirty minutes?” You asked.

“Fifteen.” He said, and you barely hummed, getting started with the warms up immediately.

“Hey, that's cheating.” Xavier complained, batting at your paper and pouting. He looked like a petulant child, which made you suspect he was drunker than he looked.

“Only warm-ups.” You said, showing the paper to him. He nodded.

“Start in one, two, go!” Ajax said, setting a timer on his phone. Almost immediately, you took another piece of paper, barely glancing at Enid's smiling face. You knew her, she had a sweet face, which made it easier. Not a lot of contrasts there or any hard lines. Your hand practically flew over the paper, frantically sketching and adding depth.

You snuck a quick glance at Xavier, who was intently staring at Enid. You looked at her face too, making sure the proportions were right. Then, noticing you only had five minutes left, you put the pencil down and started making the shadows with your fingers, the quick and dirty way to add depth to your painting. You pulled a hair out of your face, barely pausing your frenetic shading and unable to shake the smile out of your face. You were having fun, you realized. This, this was what you liked about competing with Xavier. It got your blood pumping, and it made your passion and your art even better.

“Time, guys!” Yoko called, and opened another Bloody Mary. You turned towards Xavier, seeing your manic grin perfectly reflected on his face. He showed his drawing to you, so you did the same. His Enid was facing forward, hands held excitedly behind her back, smiling. Your Enid had a fiercer look to her, probably from the different perceptions you both had of her. You had chosen to focus only on her face, going full detail with it. You needed to work on her depth, to make it less two-dimensional. While Xavier's Enid was better in that aspect, almost looking like she was going to jump out of the pages, her hair was wrong. He had been unable to shade it right, and it ended up looking like she was a brunette instead of a blonde with colorful streaks.

“Oh my god, I love it!” Enid screamed. ”Thank you, guys!”

But Xavier seemed distracted, staring intently at your face.

"What?" You asked, defensively.

"Uh, you got something on your face." He pointed vaguely in the direction of your face.

" Where?" You asked, rubbing at your cheek.

"You are making it worse" Then, going forward on his knees, he cuped your face gently. His hand is big, almost swallowing your face. He has never been so bold. "Just let me…" His thumb rubs right under your eye, but Xavier frowns. It must be graphite. You know from personal experience, it is hard to take off. You stare into his eyes, feeling strangely comforted by the way his gaze softened. He's got you feeling warm all over, and it's weird, considering this is your rival. You lower your eyes, but Xavier just grasps your chin more firmly, wetting his thumb. You don't say anything, you don't even move, yet you feel your cheeks heating up. Xavier swipes his thumb against your face again. Suddenly, someone cleared their throat. Xavier's hands drop, and you pull back so fast you end up nearly on Ajax's lap.

“So, who won?” Xavier asked, casually.

“Don´t know man, it´s pretty even.”

“Yeah.” Yoko said. “Maybe we should ask Wednesday.”

“If someone can be impartial, it´s her.” You agreed.

“Care to make it interesting, princess?”

“Sure.”

“If I win, we go to the shed and you let me teach you how to paint with oil. If you win, we do whatever you want.”

“If I win, you convince the principal to give both of us the commission for the mural in Jericho.” Thing was, the major had said it could only be one of you. But if Xavier convinced the principal, maybe…

“That´s fair.”

"Wednesday, which one is better?"

"While this one got the hair color wrong, it looks more real."

"Ha!" Xavier grins. "Get up, princess. You got a new skill to learn."

"Now?" You ask.

"Do you have anything better to do?" And the answer is no, not really. It's a Friday night and the semester has barely started. You don't have any homework or tests coming up. Xavier gets up and offers you a hand. You take it, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn't let go of your hand, walking you towards the door. "Nice party" Xavier says to Enid, who looks startled. Ajax just laughs.

"You aren't going to kill each other, right?" Yoko asked, giving a pointed glance to the way Xavier was grabbing your hand in his. You could tell she was concerned. Xavier was taller than you by at least ten inches and while he wasn't very muscled, he could easily overpower you. Besides, you were drunk. No, you mentally corrected yourself giving Xavier a look, at the way he almost trembled with nervous energy, you both were.

"We aren't." You squeezed Xavier's hand, and that was it.

The walk towards the shed was silent. You didn't know what to think. This was a face of Xavier you had never seen directed at you and it was making something flutter on your stomach. You knew he was talented and handsome, but most of the time, that took a secondary place because he was making fun of you or screaming at you. Xavier had always had a sweet side, just not with you.

"Right." Xavier opened the door and started setting everything up. " I kind of owe you an apology."

"You do?" You extended a sheet on the floor, having watched enough times Xavier paint to know it would get messy.

"I said once you were a one hit wonder." The smooth flex and roll of his hips when he settles a heavy canvas on an easel makes you stare. You try to focus on how that has you off your game and not in the fight he's referring to. That one had stung. You didn't know why he was bringing it up now, but you definitely wanted to forget it. “Recently, someone made me realize I was taking for granted the privilege of being born in an well off family.”

“Was that Wednesday?” You asked, accepting the brush he was offering.

“She might have said something about a silver spoon.” You laughed. Obviously, the only person capable of making him see sense was fucking Wednesday Addams.

“So, then it didn´t occur to me you might draw all the time with pencil and charcoal because your parents…”

“Yeah, can we not?” You said sharply. You absolutely didn't want to discuss how your parents didn't like your passion and would never support it. Your tongue was way too loose with the alcohol and you were afraid of revealing more than you were comfortable with.

“I´m not saying we need a heart to heart.” He mixed something up in a palette, with an efficiency that could only come from practice. You admired the way it was so second nature to him, he could do it drunk. “But I´m sorry. And I would like if we could stop fighting all the time. I was an asshole.”

“You weren´t the only one. But if you can forgive me, I will forgive you too.”

“Great then. You are welcome to use any of the materials I might have lying around, just don´t touch any work on progress and if you…”

“Excuse me?!” Was he seriously offering what you thought he was offering? Like you were some poor charity case?

“I said that you can share the materials with me.” He patiently stated, giving you the palettes. “Anytime.”

“I'm not some charity case or a damsel in distress to feed your ego complex.” You gave back the brush, forcing him to take it. “I don't want this. I don't need your money.”

“It's not that!” Xavier sighted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don't know how I keep fucking things up with you so spectacularly. What I'm trying to say it's that you are a great artist, and you have no chance of competing with me if we are not in even conditions. I have materials to practice, you don't.”

“Why the hell would I even want to compete with you? I thought we weren't going to fight anymore.”

“Oh, you are not this dense, princess. I know you have something more than just air inside that pretty head of yours.”

“I have no clue what you are talking about.” You said, making a face.

“You can't tell me you didn't felt it before.” Xavier said, walking towards you. “The rush, the adrenaline high it gives us, the way you feel more alive. When we are making art, side by side, it's like the world melts away…”

“And nothing else matters. It's like your passion for art gets multiplied tenfold.” You completed, smiling sadly. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“Don't you see it, then? We push each other, we make the other a better artist. I want more of that in my life. My best pieces had come from competing with you. I am giving you the same advantages I have.”

“Not the same. “ You said, cleverly. “I don´t have a clue of how to use all of this.”

“Good thing you got yourself a teacher.” Xavier smirked. “If you agree to it.”

“Go ahead, then. What´s the first thing to know about oil painting?” You said, lifting up the brush.

“First thing to know, this is not charcoal or a pencil.” You threw him a look over your shoulder, like he was stating the obvious. “Can I touch you?” He asked.

“Sure.” Xavier stepped behind you, lightly grabbing your wrist and kicking at your feet to widen your stance. Then, he corrected your grip on the brush, pushing your fingers near the end of it.

“You need to make your movements fluid or else the brush strokes will look odd. You can just stop a trace, you need to make them flow.” With that piece of advice, he guided your hand into drawing a line, curving it slightly when he got to the end. “But if you want texture, then you should just go for it.”

“Really?” You asked, turning slightly your head to look at him and accidentally reclining your head on his chest. Suddenly, his face was close to yours. Way to close. You could count the specks of blue and grey on his eyes, see clearly the darker rim around his iris. Maybe it was the pose, or the vodka, but something about the way Xavier was looking at you was making your breath catch in your throat. This was a bad idea. Oh god, it was the mother of all bad ideas. Xavier´s eyes dropped to your lips, still frozen in a small, teasing smile. Then, back, to your eyes. He was asking permission, surely knowing this was a bad idea. But instead of saying something, you let the brush clatter to the floor, forgotten, and fully turned. Then, looking at him directly in the eyes and lifting yourself on your tiptoes, you went in for the kiss.

Xavier´s hands went immediately to your face, gently cradling it upwards. He smelt like turpentine and paint, and something so him it made you smile into the kiss. His mouth was soft against you, and tasted like the cheap vodka you were both drinking. You wondered if he thought the same about you. Xavier kept the kiss gentle, giving you ample of opportunity to pull away, but you didn´t want to. You pulled him closer, making him stumble and you both nearly fell over the canvas. Without breaking the kiss, one of his hands went immediately to steady you. You laughed a little, startled when he did the same into the kiss. He pressed more into your space, finally sending the easel, the palette, and canvas all crashing down in a giant mess. You could stop this time the laugh thath came over you and neither could he. You pulled apart, looking at the splatters of paint on the floor and kept laughing.

“We are acting like kids.” He said, but was unable to keep the smile off his face.

“I put a sheet before.” You smiled at him when he looked at you like you had just hung the moon or something. “Besides, we are drunk.”

“Yeah.” He said, peppering your face with kisses. You grabbed him by the lapels, and pulled him for another kiss, still grinning. “We should stop. We are drunk.” Xavier insisted.

“Compromise?” You asked, kissing the corner of his mouth. You were unable to keep your hands off him, it seemed.

“Depends on the deal.” Xavier answered, exposing his neck for you to kiss. You gave into the tentation and kissed one of his tendons.

“You hold me while we sleep and talk it over tomorrow?” You asked and he merely hummed.

"Dorm or here?"

"Here." You said, pecking him one last time on the lips. Xavier pulled a couple of sheets together and got started on making a small nest for you two to sleep. “Aren´t you scared tomorrow we will freak out and…?”

“Go back as we were?” He asked, while you picked up the canvas and the palettes, carefully setting them aside. “ It's better to have stopped as we were than to take it further. Besides… I know I won't be freaking out tomorrow. I have made my peace with these feelings a long time ago.”

You arched an eyebrow. Xavier was already laying down, with his head on one of the throw pillows you insisted on having around, and he claimed to despise. You knew they were useful. “What about me?”

“I'm drunk enough not to care.” He answered, nonchalantly. Then, making grabby hands at you like an overgrown toddler. “Come here. We can regret it tomorrow.”

He was right. Oh, how you hated that about him, the way he was unashamed and unapologetic about his feelings. It was admirable, really. He knew himself, in and out. Knew what he wanted and wasn´t going to apologize for it. You kicked your shoes off and crawled next to him. Xavier was warm, and smelled of all your favorite things. You knew he was an affectionate drunk, just like you. So, you took advantage and layed down on his chest, burrowing your face on his neck and tangling your feet together. He just made a happy noise, not commenting on the way you just assumed. You fell asleep that way.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of turpentine and a pounding headache.

“Oh god, you can´t seriously be painting right now.” You muttered, covering your eyes with your hand. Everything was way to bright. And you were cold. Not only Xavier had gotten up to paint, leaving you alone on the floor, he had also taken the security measures you were already familiar with when working with toxic paint. That meant, he had opened every fucking window in the place.

“So. “ He said, putting down the brush from the painting he was working on. Casually, way to casually. “Any regrets?”

You sat up slowly. This was it. You could take a leap of faith or pretend nothing had happened. You risked a glance at his painting. It was a sketch of a faceless girl. But the arch of the foot, the way the waist dipped onto the hips, the coy pose of looking over her shoulder, you knew that body, that attitude. You saw it everyday in the mirror. He was taking his own leapt of fate and what else could you do but extend your hand and jump with him? Besides, you were never good at pretending, not even at lying to yourself. You had tried to pretend to hate Xavier, and we all knew how that ended.

“Only the drinking. If we were sober, we could have had so much more fun.” You said, quickly, before his face could fall. The change was immediate. Xavier snorted a bit, lowering his face and then, his trademark cocky smile made its appearance. The one that screamed Xavier Thorpe is a winner and had been the source of many headaches and rage fueled screaming matches for you over the years.

“You know, for someone so talented, you sure were dense.” Xavier commented, sitting on a stool.

“Yeah, and for such a smart ass, you certainly could have chosen a better strategy.” You got up from the nest of blankets and runned your fingers through your hair. “Pulling on my pigtails?”

“Bad attention is still attention.” Xavier gave you a sideways smirk. “There´s water and Advil over there.” He gestured towards your work table. “Besides, it worked.”

You took your time drinking the water and the painkiller. You made sure to rinse the bad taste out of your mouth, wouldn´t want that ruining your plans. Xavier didn´t look like he had showered and was still wearing yesterday´s clothes, buth he had been awake longer than you.

He didn´t make any move towards continuing his painting. He kept looking at you from the stool, a self satisfied smirk in place. That wasn't going to work. You settled down your water and walked towards him, dropping onto his lap.

“Hey.” You said, looking intently at his eyes and then to his mouth.

“Hey.” Xavier answered, one hand tangling on your hair, the other on your hip. He kissed you slowly and lazily. It was perfect and you could not help but melt against him. One kiss turned into two, and three, and before you knew it, they stopped being lazy and turned more purposeful.

“I hate you.” You groaned, when he started laying kisses on your jaw and neck.

“Bit late for that, princess.” He smiled against your skin, slowly kissing a path towards your clavicle. You tangled your hands in his hair, making Xavier groan.

“Oh, you like that?” You mocked him. “ Poor thing.”

“I'm going to take my time with you.” Xavier promised, slowly peeling your shirt off, leaving you in your bra. “Just for being mean.” His fingers dragged over your clavicles and the cups of your bra, never actually touching you in the ways you wanted. Xavier looked at you straight in the eyes, his smugness clear. Embarrassingly, you were already getting wet. You weren't a patient person, and you knew you couldn't beat him at this, so you changed the game.

“Off.” You demanded, tugging at his t-shirt. “Now.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Who died and made you queen?” But for all his grumbling, he obeyed. You tilted your head, looking appreciatively at his golden, freckled shoulders and chest. Perfect for what you had in mind. You cradled his head on your hand, lightly scratching at his scalp with your nails. And then, lower, and lower, until you were scratching his back and making him arch against you with a confused expression, that was half pain, half pleasure. “Well played.” He said, and took off your bra, unhooking it with an ease that spoke of practice. That was okay, it wasn't your first time either. Finally, you thought, finally he was going to do something. But you were wrong again. Xavier lightly cupped one of your breasts in his hands, pulling you for a kiss. He kept his touch light, and you could feel the self-satisfaction radiating from him in waves. Smug bastard, you thought.

“Asshole.” You said, and pulled his hair, forcing him to expose his throat. Xavier bit his lips, but was unable to contain his laughter. You kissed your way down from his jaw to his neck, where you spent a fair amount of time running your teeth against his collarbones and soothing the bites with your tongue. “Not so smug now, are we?”

“If I were you, I wouldn't be so sure, princess. “ And with that, he pinched your nipple lightly, making you moan. It seemed that there was no way to win this game of his, and you were smart enough to accept your defeat.

“Fine!” You said, arching your back and trying to press your chest against his hands. “I fold. We are doing this your way, but please do something”

“Oh, princess. Thought you never ask.” He lifted you easily, scaringly so. You wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him to carry you to the nest of blankets. You were unable to hide the way your breath changed when your clothed core pressed against his stomach, or at the way he squeezed your thighs. “Oh, you like this? You poor, poor thing.”

“Fuck you.” You said, pulling your pants off without caring if he saw how soaked you were. By this point, you felt like you were going to lose your mind if he didn't do something. He kneeled between your spread legs, in a pose mockingly similar to what you really wanted.

“Now, that was not nice. Pretty girl, with a mouth like that?” Xavier rubbed his thumb against your lower lip. He did a tsk sound, but you ignored him, choosing instead to capture his finger between your lips. Looking him straight into the eyes, you sucked at it, giving him only a hint of teeth. His pupils dilated and he closed his eyes for a second. Hook, line…

“My mouth can do so much more…” You said, lazily drawing ribons with your tongue on his thumb. “If you let me. “ It had been the wrong thing to say. Xavier pulled his thumb out of your mouth and shook his head a little.

“I don´t think so. “ And he was leaning down and taking one of your nipples on his mouth. You gave a surprised inhale, arching your back. It felt so good. You tried grabbing his hair to encourage him, but his hand stopped you. At first, he grabbed your wrist, but then, he took your hand in his, holding it.

“Please, Xavier, please…” Turns out, you weren´t above begging. You could feel his satisfied smile against your skin, again. God, didn´t this boy get tired of being smug?

“Now, that´s more like it. You sound much nicer begging me to fuck you than screaming insults.” He paused to give you a glance, noting with interest the way your blush went from your face yo your chest and committing it to memory for his next painting.

“Are you seriously using this as payback?!” You asked, indignantly. Because if so, this was going to be a very long morning. Xavier ignored you, placing an open-mouthed kiss to your navel. Then, he went lower, taking off your underwear.

“You are this wet for me, princess?” He smirked, licking a strip from your hole to your trhobbing clit and holding your hips down when you bucked from the floor.

“Xavier, please, I will beg you on my knees if you want, but please, please, please…” You said, losing entirely your dignity when he started pressing kisses to your pussy. It was too much, and he was holding your hands with his, preventing any attempt on your part to do something.

“I asked you something, princess.” There was a dark glint in his eyes, something that wasn't there before. It was… possessive, even. But you were lost, too overwhelmed to even think straight, much less understand what he was referencing.

“What?” Unfortunately for you, you had no clue what he was talking about. Your only thought was getting as much as skin to skin contact with Xavier as you could, so maybe he would fuck you. ”I don't, Xavier, Xavier, please.” You begged.

“I asked, who are you this wet for?” He enunciated, patiently. So that was what he wanted. You could give it to him, hell, at this point it was easy and evident. You would have said anything to get him to fuck you.

“You, you, Xavier, Xavi, please.” The nickname was a new one, but he seemed to like it, because he was taking off his pants and pulling himself out of his boxers. He had a nice cock, proportionate to his height, and with a pink tip that was begging to be sucked. He quickly and efficiently rolled a condom onto himself and pressed slightly against your entrance. You felt tempted to make a sarcastic comment about his confidence this was going to happen, but choose to keep quiet. You weren't sure if you wanted to keep snarking at him.

“I guess that was a good answer, but a little delayed. We'll need to work on your delivery.” He said, and leaned for a kiss. He smelled strongly of your juices. “Now, what do good girls say?”

“Asshole.” You answered, having used the brief respite to regain your wits and your spine, because you weren't the kind of person who went down without a fight. You were his competition for the last years, and you made sure to give as good as you got, damn it. Besides, teasing him was fun.“ Smug bastard, asshole, dick…” You gave him a sweet smile, letting the profanities tumble out of your mouth.

Xavier pulled back, shaking his head. He rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit, up and down, up and down, in a maddening slow manner. You had to give it to him, he had self-control. You closed your eyes and whimpered pathetically. That had been a bad idea. Your pride could have taken the blow of not resisting until the very end, but you had chosen to be a brat and now Xavier would make sure to make you pay.

“Cute.” Xavier smiled. “Let´s try again.” And he just leaned back, resting his weight on his heels, totally unbothered by the situation.

“You win!” You said, pathetically. Oh, your revenge would be terrible. Next time, he would be the one crying and begging. You would make sure of it. “Just fuck me already.”

“Mmm, won't do. You are a good girl, be polite.”

“Xavier, please, I will cry if you don't fuck me right now. Please, please, please.”

“That's more like it.” And with a painstakingly slow thrust of his hips, he was finally inside you. Immediately, you wrapped your legs around his back, digging your heels on his back. “Good?” Xavier asked, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“More than.” You answered, eyes closed in bliss. Xavier was just the perfect size to make you feel the stretch, but not hurt you. “Now move.”

He started to protest, but you clenched around him. You were getting fucked now, if Xavier liked it or not. Period.

“Got it, pretty girl.” Xavier settled on a moderate pace, hitting that interesting place inside you just right. You clawed at his back, desperate to find some kind of purchase and to meet him thrust by thrust. “You look so good taking my cock.”

“Less talk, more fucki-oh.” You started saying, but Xavier seemingly took offense, because before you could finish your piece, he set a more punishing pace, punching the air out of your lungs. You couldn't help but moan.

“So, you don´t, fuck you are tight, you don´t like hearing me telling you how good you look?” Xavier panted, malicious grin back in place. He thumbed at your clit, never stopping his thrusting. “Because you look good enough to eat, trust me.”

You couldn't think of a smart thing to say. Not a single one. You just held desperately to him, hands clammy from the seat of your bodies. The world could have been ending, and you wouldn't notice. “Xavier.” You begged, not even knowing what you were asking for. He was everywhere, hands on your hips, hair, neck, clit. It was getting too much. “Xavier.” Again, more urgent. “Xavier, please.” And it sounded more like a sob.

“Shhh, I got you. “ Xavier leaned down, taking one of your nipples on his mouth. His back bowed, almost uncomfortable. The fucking height difference. His hand rubbed at your clit, faster this time. His thrusts, hitting the perfect spot. It was too much. You surrendered to the pleasures, coming so hard you could swear you blacked out for a second. Xavier fucked you through it, extending the pleasure. You couldn't, for the life of you, stop the tears from falling. You were trembling all over, frantically gasping for air like a woman drowning. When your breath finally calmed down a little, Xavier brushed your hair out of your face. “You with me?” He asked, soothingly brushing your inner thigh back and forth.

“Yeah.” You hided your face in your hands. God, that was embarrassing. Crying during sex? It had never happened to you before.

“Hey, it's cool.” Xavier said, keeping himself immobile. He was still inside you, you realized. Still hard, too. “Prettiest thing I have seen. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes.” You rolled your hips against him and tightened yourself, making him buck and curse. You smiled slightly. “Come on, Thorpe. Give it to me.” He gave a startled laugh at the use of his last name, but started moving again.

His thrusting became more erratic, now that he was focused only in his own pleasure. He tried to hide his face on the crook of your neck, but you were having none of it. You pulled at his hair, making him groan. “Come on, let me watch you.” Xavier obeyed, a pretty blush making its way to his face, neck, and ears. He looked… absolutely decadent. You got what he meant now, by good enough to eat. With your own perverse smile, you bit into his shoulder. It was a guess, but an accurate one. Apparently, he liked some pain mixed in with his pleasure. Xavier came with a quiet moan of your name, trembling in your arms. He collapsed on top of you. You didn't say anything, but he rolled off, taking off the condom and knotting it.

Suddenly, the door to the shed opened.

“Oh my fucking…!” Yoko said, covering her eyes. Next to her, Ajax barked out a laugh.“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What the hell?” Xavier asked, covering himself with one of the sheets and throwing his shirt to you. You quickly put it on.

“Y/N didn't come back last night to the dorm. I thought you killed her, so I got Ajax to come with me to look for her.” Yoko explained, peeking through her fingers.

“Yeah, he killed her with his dick.” Ajax snorted, unable to keep a straight face.

“Thank you for looking out for me, Yoko. I'm sorry for worrying you.” You said to her. The look on her eyes told you you owed her so many lattes it would be a century before she bought coffe herself.

“Why would you assume I killed her?” Xavier asked, indignantly. “She was the one who set a carnivore plant on me!” He complained.

“That was one time!” You screamed.

#Xavier thorpe #Xavier #Xavier x reader #Xavier Thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x fem!reader #Xavier thorpe smut #Xavier thorpe x reader smut #Xavier x reader smut #wednesday 2022 #nevermore #wednesday show #wednesday netflix #wednesday #wednesday addams #netflix wednesday #wednesday imagine #xavier thorpe #xavier x y/n #xavier thrope imagine #enid sinclair #xavier x you #xavier thorpe x reader #fem!reader #wednesday fanfic #percy hynes white #xavier thorpe x you #wednesday tim burton #wednesday the series #xavier thorpe oneshot #my writing

[captain039]

Part 6 The lords servant

Astarion x reader

Warnings: plus size reader, light swearing, vampire things, sexual, first times, eventual smut, harassment, sexual harassment, angst, past abuse, past trauma

Previous part <-

You had decided to stay, though things were different now, he didn’t make you clean, cook or check over things in the house. You were more of a guest now than servant, he gave you your own room despite your words of not needing it. He insisted greatly, saying you could decorate as you pleased. He wished to go with you to the shops so he could show you the best places for silks and blankets, clothes and perfumes. It saddened you, he had this glint in his eye of wanting to explore this new bond you shared to its fullest, only to be stopped by the sun. You didn’t go shopping, you kept your clothes simple with the ones you had packed, though it made him huff saying he wished to lavish you in wonderful things. You would just shake your head and say you were happy with what you had, he would pout like a child and it would make you laugh though. Honestly you were scared to buy new clothes, you’d have to be sized and measured, you didn’t want the scrutiny of some seamstress judging your body, you also felt wrong for such beautiful things to be waisted on your body, but the lord didn’t need to know that.

You were rather lost in thought, thinking back to your family when you felt arms around your waist and a head bury in your neck. Had you not recognised the soft curls and smell of your lord, you would’ve slapped them. You simply smiled as he pressed light kisses to your neck humming gently.

“What’s my little pup thinking about so deeply?” He asked and you shrugged lightly.

“Just home, well, where I grew up” you muttered frowning lightly. You were still off with the whole touching thing, you stepped out of his hold turning to look at him instead making him frown lightly.

“Tell me about it?” He asked head tilted slightly in question.

“It’s really boring and depressing” you chuckled but the laughter didn’t reach your eyes.

“Nothing about you is boring my dear, please, I’m all pointy ears” he grinned lightly and sat making you huff with a smile.

“My mother was named witch of the town, my father was in trades, he wasn’t home often. My mother was good with potions and alchemy, not really any magic in her unless she tried hard enough. She was, well she was odd to caught up in her old books to really see what was happening around her” you sighed.

“Too busy to see what was happening to me” you added quietly as the lord kept his attention on you fully.

“Like I said I’d get bullied a lot and beaten, she’d never notice, I’d try to tell her and she’d mumble something about a potion or herb before going back into her room, when i tried to tell my father he’d either pretend to be too busy or just ignored me, it was really just me growing up, and the donkey we had” you chuckled at the last part remembering.

“His name was Al, short for Albert, I loved him so much, id talk to him, sounded like a mad child now” you shook your head with a smile.

“He was too dumb though, didn’t know what was what and died out in the woods from a bear” you grimaced at the memory of finding him.

“I knew i had locked the gate that night, somebody opened it” you huffed.

“Bastards” the lord said frowning.

“I found him torn to shreds, horrible sight for a youngen” you shuddered.

“My parents didn’t care obviously, just told me to go work the barn, there was nothing in the barn to work with though so I just read books” you shrugged looking to him.

“Hopefully your parents were better than mine, I mean they did raise you” you smiled before it faded. His eyes went blank, his lips drawn into a thin line.

“I’m sorry-“ you stuttered as he stood, you began to panic as he simply left making you sigh. Even a hint about asking about his past he’d shut down and leave, maybe it wasn’t the right time, but he was a mystery to you, you knew nothing about him and he knew your life story.

You wandered around the mansion, exploring the rooms you could go in, wandering the library before finding a book and settling down. When dinner came you headed to the kitchen, smelling some delicious stew. You got looks from the servants now though, you grabbed some food and left back to your room passing the lords on the way. You froze though seeing one of the servants against the wall, his head in their neck. He was feeding, just with less activity now, but their moaning and fingers in his curls made your stomach churn with jealousy before you stormed back to your room. Of course he had to fed how stupid could you be. You packed your room if possible there would be an angry dark cloud above your head. Gods you felt so stupid, caught up in this new love. You groaned in frustration wanting to throw something breakable before you heard knocking. You took a quiet breath before opening the door seeing the lord there, not a drop of blood on his face.

“Evening my dear” he said and you wanted to scoff.

“I wish to be left alone” you said as nice as you could with a smile and he frowned.

“Are you not feeling well?” He asked and you felt like slapping him.

“Yes, just a bit feverish, I’m going to bed early, goodnight my lord” you said curtly and gave a small bow before closing the door. You clenched your jaw and fisted your hands before sitting by your desk.

Astarion stood confused outside your door, you didn’t look feverish to him. His mouth was bitter with the servants blood, he simply needed to feed, nothing more, however the servant had other plans moaning against him. It made him growl in annoyance, but they only took it as a spur and continued. He couldn’t handle it so he forced them away seeing the confusion. You had pressed about his past again, you told him about your past and he kept his hidden in the shadows where it belonged, the invisible collar around his neck tugging in reminder. He wouldn’t bring you into that, wouldn’t let his past consume you like it has everything else, not when you were this light in his life. When he first spotted you he’d never seen something so divine and swore on getting a taste, however that proved difficult. His usual charms and flattery didn’t work on you, you had high walls and something held you back. Gods know he saw red when those bastards touched you, saw the fear in your eyes, he almost slit their throats and drank them dry there and then had you not been there. He meant what he said when he would kill them, but your too kind heart didn’t see it fit. When you entered his room after days of him not feeding and being in his bed he hurt you. He felt nothing but hunger as the sweetness of your blood flowed into his body for the first time. It made him shudder till he realised what he had done. He’d been so close to having you, after his brood he swore he was going to have you, but you came in, checking on him like a wounded animal. Where the hell was Daenan? He’d tear into him later, right then, he was chasing you through Baldurs gate and into an alleyway, your blood tingling on his tongue. He’d taken too much and your burst of escape caused you to pass out against him. He hated being out in the city, it was too exposed, too many eyes in the shadows. He hastily got home with you in his arms, his guards giving him odd looks before he sneered at them. Your unconscious form made his heart stir for the first time in 200 years, you looked at peace, not like the gut wrenching fear from before. He stayed by your bed, held your hand made sure you were comfortable before you finally awoke. He had gone back to check on you only to find you weren’t there and his panic settling in. He saw the balcony doors open though and sighed seeing your form lit in the moonlight. Gods what a sight, you almost glistened in light, the wind gently blowing through your hair and white robe, you looked like a goddess. When you kissed him he felt like his heart leapt out his chest, your desperateness and needy noises made him crave you, though this was probably the first time you’d ever initiated a kiss from someone. Seeing you smile and giggle softly made him swoon like a young vampire again, hearing you say you’d stay made his heart leap. He’d been too excited he knows that now, giving you your own room, wanting to buy you dresses, silk sheets and blankets, perfumes, anything good gold could buy. It made you uncomfortable, he saw the way you’d look to the ground and gently shake your head with a small thank you. You weren’t from this life, a simple village girl with no one, but herself, he craved you though, craved your touch, craved your lips, your blood. He fed more regularly, trying to rid of the cravings he felt, but it never worked. He felt how you’d shy away from his touch and keep a safe distance should you need to run. He’d broken trust and he was trying to hard to get it back, for the first time in 200 years he didn’t know what he was doing, he didn’t know how to win your affections, it seemed so simple when doing it for ‘him’.

Next part ->

Taglist:

@worryknotdear

@curlycarley

@sleepy-time-dreamy

@violet-19999

@hexqueensupreme

@brainz00

@perseny

@queenofangrymoths

@aeryntheofficial

@scarlettwitcher

@pixiedust727

@mheerdraws

@innergardentoadpony

@vivian318

@turmoil-ash

@queenies1x1

#astarion x reader #lord astarion #x reader #plus size reader #vampires #lord x servant

[copperbadge]

lustfulpasiphae

What do you mean when you say birch sheets? The cabinets in my apartment are kind of rough inside and I've been trying to find better liners than the kind of rubbery stuff

I hope it's okay that I pulled this out to turn into a post of its own, because I took some photos to share :D When I say "birch sheets" I'm just referring to thin 1/8" (3mm) sheets of birch plywood, cut into planks. Here's what they look like installed:

[ID: Two images of cabinets in my home; one, stocked with toilet paper, the other with a large bin in it. Both have long, thin planks of wood covering the original floors.]

I was having an issue with my bathroom cabinet (on the left) because the bottom of the cabinet was water damaged before I moved in, and wasn't molding or anything but had begun to sag. I wanted some stiff thin boards I could pop into place to make a clean, flat floor without having to replace the entire cabinet. I found these birch sheets that were the perfect length, but I had to order like 10 of them and only needed 3 for the bathroom, so I put the rest in a cabinet in the kitchen that happened to have an ugly-looking floor (and apparently misplaced several, not sure what happened to them). It really spruces up the look of a grotty cabinet.

Anyway, this year I was contemplating re-lining my upper kitchen cabinets; I put paper liners down when I was renovating before I moved in, but those only last so long and that was five years ago. I thought I'd install some birch sheets instead, which wouldn't warp or shred the way the paper liners have. My plan is to cover them in freezer paper, pop them in, and then just pop them out every so often and re-line them, which is easier than trying to put the paper straight into the cupboards (awkwardly located for that kind of work) or trying to remove the shelves.

I ordered the ones for the cabinets from somewhere new to me, so can't vouch for the quality yet; I was able to order them custom-cut to the size I wanted at that page, and while it's slightly more expensive per piece, I also only have to buy as many pieces as I need and they should fit snugly, so it's less expensive overall as a purchase. I'll post up when they arrive and I install them!

#naclyoho #home renovation #lustfulpasiphae

[ithaquasbbg]

I ABSOLUTELY LOVED THE JOSE POST GGGGRAGHHHH would u mind doing something like it with ithaqua :333333

Yes :33. Sorry about saying id be very active today, I forgot I had some volunteer work this afternoon and had more on my plate than I thought I would.

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

Ithaqua | Night Watch with an adoring s/o headcanons

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

Tw : mentions of dependency

Extra : I have a similar ish scenario to this so it may seem similar to a previous work, but I’m happy to elaborate or update headcanons any time.

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

|🩷| Ithaqua is possessive compared to many others at the manor by a long shot, and your adoration of him could serve as a source of reassurance for him.

|🩷| He’s quite entertained by your adoration for him, Ithaqua finds it quite cute and likely would comment about it from time to time, though he can be a little tough on the outside and wouldn’t be too direct about it.

|🩷| People were terrified of him prior to coming to the manor, and it’s likely people in the manor fear him as well. He hasn’t been adored like this since his mother was with him, and the feeling of being needed is bittersweet but addicting.

|🩷| You may notice him softening up at the way you look at him, allowing his walls to break down just a little bit, more so in private. He doesn’t want to be the type to show vulnerability in fear his life would get ruined once more, but the knowledge that you aren’t going to go away is one that calms him slightly. (Unless yk.. an accident happens in a manor game ;))

|🩷| Ithaqua under all of his emotional walls is a rather traumatized man who needs somebody to protect in order to fufill the role of a protector that he had prior to arriving at the manor. Your adoration of him leads to him taking care of you much more than he otherwise would, watching after you as often as possible.

|🩷| He does adore you quite a bit in return. Everything about you is just so perfect, how his mother would have loved you.

|🩷| As such, he’s willing to allow you to follow him around so he can “show you off”- but in reality, your presence makes him feel human again and reminds him that he can be loved, something he hadn’t felt in a while.

|🩷| In Matches he’d always refrain from harming you. Would you still adore him if he harmed you or another one of your teammates too badly? He rathers not risk it (even if you’d still like him, he fears being alone again)

I may add more in the morning, I’m falling asleep trying to write this but wanted to share my progress.

#idv fandom #idv fanfic #idv headcanons #idv imagines #idv x reader #idv scenarios #idv matchup #idv ithaqua #idv night watch #identity v ithaqua #ithaqua idv #ithaqua x reader #night watch idv #night watch

[bangsinc]

Heyyy uh, I love your work! Your idea of The Spot just feels so in character and I absolutely adore the sad soggy noodle of a man (I mean that in an affectionate way)

If your commissions are open, Id like to make a request…

Are you comfortable writing for an Autistic Reader (with or without ADHD involved)? It doesn’t have to be anything specific, maybe just how he would deal with the pros and cons of it all?

No pressure in doing it, just take care of yourself and remember to set yourself at a comfortable pace and to make sure to care for your needs!

OhmygodivbeentalkingforsolongIamsosorryillshutupnowhaveaniceday!!!

🖤Spot x Nerodivergent Reader🤍

YES!! I’m also autistic so I’d love nothing more than to feed y’all. Autistic readers and readers with ADHD are never common and it’s really sad to see.

AUTISTIC READER:

The Spot, with his own experiences of feeling misunderstood, demonstrates empathy and acceptance towards their partner's autism. He recognizes and appreciates their unique perspective, and even try’s to promote it as much as he can. You can truly understand him in that sence, and it makes him even more likely to be able to open up to you.

The Spot and you easily bond over shared special interests, whether it's science, technology, or other intellectual pursuits. You both engage in passionate discussions, exchange knowledge, and explore these interests together. Sometimes it might even be hard to have a conversation without accidentally interrupting one another!

In many situations (myself included lol), it’s often hard to stim as you might think of it as embarrassing or useless because of how ‘stupid’ you look. The spot of course, loves to see you happy and express yourself, even if it isn’t conventional. If he notices this pattern of behavior, he might try to help by stimming with you! He thinks it’s sweet and he wants you to feel comfortable around him after all.

Sensory issues are one of the many obstacles that come with having autism, and the spot most likely is aware of this. Even tiny things such as the fabric of your pants Can set you off, and the spot tries his best to make you as comfortable as he can. If you happen to become overstimulated, then he’s going to stop everything and aid you. Even if you feel guilty about all of the attention, he hates to see you distraught.

If you’re feeling overstimulated at home, then he might turn off/dim the lights and give you something to fidget with. If you don’t want to talk about how you feel, he understands, and is willing to console you physically if you wish!

If it’s in a public setting, then the spot is willing to safely (and hopefully slowly, the poor boy might be freaking out alongside you) get you out of the situation and somewhere more quiet and secluded.

Dates during sensory hour at certain places! The options are limitless, but I can imagine he’d enjoy taking you to places such as the aquarium during those hours. It’s quiet, nice, and you both get to see the sea creatures :).

Sometimes you want to be quiet but also in his presence, the feeling of just being around him comforting enough. He can understand, although it might be hard. Sometimes the spot has a tendency to talk your ear off, but in certain situations, espically if you convey so, he might just relax and do something while you do something else.

The spot is also willing to adapt if you have issues with certain ways of communication, maybe to the point of going non verbal or needing cards. Spot is a fast learner, and because of such will quickly be able to affectively communicate with you. He finds ways to accommodate different communication styles, such as using visual aids, written communication, or allowing time for processing thoughts. He’s very patient and knows that your feelings are complex.

Reader with ADHD

The Spot recognizes that your attention and focus may fluctuate and that you might exhibit hyperactive or impulsive behaviors at times. He can understand the feeling of being impulsive, and uses this to connect with you on a certain basis. Reminders are very common with him!

Back when The Spot worked worked as a scientist, he developed an incredibly strict schduale. If you have your own issues keeping schduale and keeping track of your own work, he might implement some of your own tatics for you. (And he’s kinda a total worrywart about it. He cares, maybe wayyyyy too much about if you get your things done on time.)

The Spot uses his powers to create a calming environment for you when needed. He may manipulate dimensions to create serene spaces or offer soothing sensory experiences that help reduce anxiety too!

#the spot #spider man #across the spiderverse #the spot x reader #spiderman #into the spider verse #amazing spider man #spiderverse spoilers #spiderverse fanart #batman the animated series #spiderman into the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderverse imagine #autistic reader #adhd reader #bangsinc

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m writing a story about a lady with Down Syndrome. I was wondering if you knew where I can find any resources about Down Syndrome made by people who actually have it, or any organisations that would be good to follow. Any resources made by people with intellectual disability would be really helpful as well.

I read your post about this and it was really helpful so thank you, I’m going to use it as a starting point for my research.

If you’d like some context about the story she’s literally a lady in the 1920s who’s trying to get control of her family’s estate from her brother. Shes underestimated for her disabilities and for being a women but I’m trying to not focus so much on the discrimination and work more on giving her an interesting mystery to solve with the detective she hired. I’d like it to be a bit lighthearted. Anyway, as she’s a main character I really wanted to make sure I wrote her well. Thanks!

Hi!

There aren't many resources out there unfortunately, but there is a page on the UK Down Syndrome's Association's website where members with DS share their opinions on representation in TV and film! You can read it here. For info on intellectual disability in general the best I can do is link some of my previous posts on it - there's close to nothing that's actually made by us unfortunately, everything that I was able to find is always made by someone who knows a person with ID at best. To be clear, not all of it is bad - I thought this interview (TW for abuse that happens in the movie's plot) about a movie starring actors with DS was pretty good - but it's still a sign that we aren't getting enough #OwnVoices representation. It's slowly changing though!

To learn more about DS I would probably recommend NDSS, it's one of the very few orgs that have people with Down Syndrome as board and team members (should be the bare minimum, but it unfortunately isn't). There's also information on things like preferred language and myths that often show up around Down Syndrome!

I'm not great with history, but in the 1920s she would be a subject to a lot more than just discrimination. Eugenics and institutionalization would definitely be present. Not sure what route you'll take there, but basically all the words around that time that she would be described with are currently considered slurs or pejoratives. The racist term for a person with Down Syndrome was officially used into the 60s, and the ableist one is still used legally in 2024. But if you want to skip past that, I think that's more than fine. You don't always have to aim for 100% historical accuracy, just be aware of the real history.

A detective story sounds very exciting! If you decide to publish it on Tumblr or other online site feel free to send me an ask with a link, I'd love to read it :-) !!

Thank you for the ask!

mod Sasza

I’m just popping in as a history fan for a couple bits of history notes — but again, like Sasza said, you don’t have to be 100% historically accurate if you don’t want to and if you don’t feel it’s necessary.

So, especially in the first half of the 1900s, a large part of disabled children, including children with Down Syndrome, were institutionalized very early in their life. Around this time the push that immorality caused disability was strong, and people were often convinced by doctors and professionals that the children’s needs would always be too much for them. Eugenicism was sort of reaching a peak around this time, as well—I would say it was at its most intense in the period of 1900-1940s.

Not all parents institutionalized their children, though. There was pressure to do so, but that doesn’t mean everyone fell victim to it. There wasn’t really any official support for parents who did this, and there weren’t official organizations for Down Syndrome. From my research, the current large DS organizations seem to have popped up in the 60s.

The term ‘Down Syndrome’ wasn’t in popular use until the 70s, and it wasn’t known that it’s caused by an extra chromosome until 1959.

Life expectancy in 1900-1920 for people born with Down Syndrome was 9 years old. Some of this could absolutely have been due to conditions in institutions, but likely even more relevant is that about 50% of people with DS are born with heart defects (also known as congenital heart disease) that can be fatal if not treated with surgery. Heart surgery wasn’t really feasible until the late 30s and early 40s. Another risk factor is a higher risk for infection, which isn’t easy to manage in a world that doesn’t yet have antibiotics.

I actually wanted to find pictures of adults with Down Syndrome pre-1940ish, though, to see real tangible evidence of adults being part of a community. First I found just one picture of a baby in 1925 on this Minnesota government website. But then I found a collection someone made of photos of both children and young adults, but they are not specifically dated. The first baby picture is from the 30s according to the poster!

Judging by the clothes I see people wearing in these photos, photo #4 (man with Down Syndrome in a suit next to a woman) seems to be from the 20s and photo #13 (young woman with Down Syndrome and very long hair) seems to be from about the 1910s. #18 (large family with a lot of sons, including one boy with Down Syndrome) could be from the 30s. Those three are the oldest people with DS in the photos, and they seem like young adults. A lot of these pictures show a community and aren’t just isolated kids, which I find nice.

It’s hard to find specific historical record of people with Down Syndrome from that period of time, but I wanted to show photos of real people in their communities to show, hey look! They were there, too!

Either way, I love detective stories and historical fiction and I’m glad you’re writing a story and that you care about your character’s portrayal but I totally know the feeling of that tricky balance between historical accuracy and modern acknowledgement that we should have been doing better.

— Mod Sparrow

#mod sasza #mod sparrow #intellectual disability representation #historical fiction #pretending that this answer isn't extremely late.. sorry #tw eugenics #tw ableism

[canadiansummer]

SEE YOURSELF (18+)

Pairing: Dmitri Antonov x Fem!Reader / Enzo x Fem!Reader Series: Day one of the October challenges. | Masterlist here. Prompt: Edging/Orgasm denial Warnings: GRAPHIC SMUT. Not much plot. Note: Here we are to kick this off. I hope you all enjoy.

You knew you were a little stubborn. 

It had been something that had been stuck with you since you were a kid. You knew how to really dig your heels in about certain things, an odd mix of patience only making your stubbornness stronger in certain ways. You could really hold your ground when you had your mind set on something, as much as that was both a virtue and a flaw depending on the situation. It was usually only in hindsight that you could tell the difference. 

If anything, it felt like you noticed most things in hindsight these days. 

You knew your little on-and-off partnership with Murray might come back to bite you in the ass, and it wasn’t like what you had found yourself doing as entirely legal. Given that you had been raised up by a family of Doomsday Preppers, it wasn’t like you were unfamiliar with things like paranoia and secrecy. You had also gotten particularly skilled at forging documents–nothing overly official, but an ID or driver’s license here and there. Passports were always extra and something you didn’t like doing often, but it was the thing that got someone like Murray on your radar.

He always brought you the more…interesting work. You should have figured that he’d bring you something that really got you in over your head. 

That moment eventually came in the form of a sudden appearance from the man himself and an exhausted looking stranger in tow. 

Though, the following months were a surprise too. The evolution from taking him in as a begrudging favor, to something closer to friends, and now occasionally pulling each other into bed. Really, you knew Dmitri was an attractive man, as much as the situation he brought with him was nothing but a headache sometimes. He was rather soft-spoken, yet he had a wit to him that had drawn you into him very easily after a while. Intelligent, introspective when the moment was right, and almost playful in others. 

As much as your initial goal was to get him set up so he could leave, it was hard not to feel like you wanted to keep him around sometimes. Some days it felt like you both would dance around the subject, as much as you eventually landed on it in the end. 

It was hard to ignore the way the gazes started to linger, too. The way a part of you had wanted to test the line, yet struggled to find the courage to really do so in ways that were noticeable. You had thought, at least. 

Obviously, that viewpoint had shifted once the facades started to drop and one night you found your hand gripping at the hair on the back of his head, Dmitri’s mouth on your own.

Really, you didn’t fully know what this was supposed to be between the two of you. The first night, you had just figured it would be just that. The second night, it kind of threw things into question. Along with the odd tender moment shared between the two of you that felt much more than just this unnamed thing between the two of you. Yet, neither of you seemed to want to put a name to it, to say exactly what it was. Sometimes it ate at you, while in other moments you didn’t really care to dig into it. 

The current night fell more toward the latter. 

Dmitri could be hard to read sometimes, especially when things turned more physical. Sometimes it felt like the both of you were trying to scratch an itch that neither of you could get at otherwise, while other times it felt more intimate than that. 

The look in Dmitri’s eyes was more amused than you were used to, currently, however. 

The night had started slow, lingering touches and kisses coming across as more sensual. It hadn’t taken you a terribly long time to figure out where things were headed, and it had you responding in kind. Really, it had been a while and you couldn’t help the small building eagerness that started to drive your actions. Yet, Dmitri seemed to have his own plans, stopping your wandering hands from progressing too far with a frustrating sense of patience. His touches were the opposite, trailing along toward the parts you wanted him to touch the most before he would change course. 

By the time you found yourself laying on your back on your bed, you had an idea on what he was trying to do. 

Still, you found yourself shutting your eyes as Dmitri’s mouth pressed against the side of your neck. You parted your legs to let him lay between them, pressing his body against your own as he dropped his kisses down to the space that connected your neck to your shoulder. You ran your hands down his back, trailing your fingers over his spine before resting on his lower back. You lifted your hips somewhat, grinding yourself against the hardness of his cock through his boxers. Dmitri responded in kind, pressing himself against you and gave you a taste of the contact you were seeking. Yet, it didn’t seem to deter him too much from his slower pace. 

Mercifully, however, he seemed to catch on to what you were wanting as he moved to pull your underwear down your legs. You shifted forward somewhat, spreading your legs a little more so you opened yourself for him a little more. The action pulled a small groan from him that almost dissolved into a chuckle at the end. 

“You are very eager tonight.” 

“You’re being a terrible tease,” you replied, taking in a short breath when you felt him press a finger along your folds and stopping to rub against a certain spot. 

“You don’t seem to mind.” 

“I’m starting to, actually…” you muttered, sounding half-hearted even in your own ears as you gently rolled your hips against his hand. 

Dmitri kept his attention on your clit with his fingers, sometimes circling it in a way that had you gasping somewhat before he’d slow down with more deliberate strokes. He was close to what you needed, yet always a short ways off. It was slowly starting to kill you. All the while, he remained nearby, watching your reactions and you knew he would change up his motions if you showed too much of one. 

You wanted to control your reactions, take him by surprise, yet you knew it was pointless. You had already been pent up and he was only making that worse. 

So, it had you moaning outright when he finally inserted his fingers. The slight stretch was welcomed, his fingers pumping inside almost feeling like a relief. You gently rocked your hips against his movements, not wanting to give too much but also wanting him to touch just a little deeper. 

You welcomed the kiss he pressed against your mouth as he leaned over, parting your lips for his tongue with a small sigh. You rested your hand against the back of his neck while you dropped a hand down toward his lower abdomen. At meeting no protest from him, you dropped that hand lower to palm at him over his boxers. The action pulled a small moan from him against your mouth, pressing himself a little harder against your hand. You started to stroke him somewhat, trying to match the pace he set with his fingers still inside you. 

It was difficult to keep that up, however, when he curled his fingers somewhat to swipe against a spot inside you that shot little sparks of pleasure into your core. At the small whimper you let out, Dmitri took the time to pull back from the kiss somewhat to guide your hand away from where you were touching him. 

“You want me to touch you?” you asked. 

“Yes,” he replied, “But it defeats the purpose.” 

“What would that be?” You might honestly just do what he wanted if it meant it would release the tension building in your gut. 

“No matter how close you get, I’m not letting you cum tonight unless it is on my cock.” 

“I-I’m more than ready,” you said, the combination of his words and another brush against that spot inside you almost making you moan. 

“I know. You are soaking my fingers. I know you are more patient than this, though,” Dmitri replied. 

You were patient in some sense, but this was certainly a test of that. Still, you couldn’t help but take in the sensations he was pulling from you, hitting just the right spots enough to really have you squirming somewhat. You could feel that familiar tension building toward that moment you were craving, Dmitri keeping up his pace with his fingers. You were left to grip one of your thighs and the bed when he moved further down so he knelt down at the edge of the bed. 

Just as it felt like you were crawling closer to that edge, he slowly pulled his fingers out. You groaned somewhat, feeling your walls pulse in the absence as you let your head fall back somewhat in frustration. While a part of you wanted to tell him to stop playing around, you couldn’t help but admit that a small part of you was curious. What it would feel like to finally climax after you had been pushed toward that moment again and again. Yet, you knew there was only so much you could take. You figured there was only so much Dmitri could take, too, yet he was making a particularly good show of indifference at the moment. 

So, you didn’t say anything when you felt him start to kiss the inside of your thighs, his hot breath against the sensitive skin there as he kissed his way further up. Very close, yet didn’t put his mouth on you just yet. 

While the excitement from before was starting to ebb out, you knew the anticipation was putting a flutter to your stomach. The curiosity was keeping you playing along for the moment, yet you couldn’t help the way you wanted to buck your hips or at least touch yourself. Still, you let him do what he wanted for the moment. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t much longer until Dmitri shifted one of your legs to settle against one of his shoulders before he bowed his head down. The feeling of his tongue dragging along your sensitive folds pulled a small sound from you, one of your hands coming down to rest in his hair. Moreso for something to hold, considering you doubted he’d let you guide him this time around. As much as you craved something deeper, the prodding of his tongue inside you was pleasurable enough. 

Though, you weren’t too sure if it was a good thing if he had worked you up beforehand or not. 

Your clit was particularly sensitive and begging for attention when Dmitri finally swiped his tongue over it, the feeling making your legs tense somewhat. The alternating between his tongue against your clit and the light sucking had you struggling not to grind yourself on his mouth, pulling a few drawn out gasps and moans from you. Though, the addition of another finger pushing inside you had you letting out a short cry. 

“Dmitri–fuck…” 

“Not yet,” he warned as he parted his mouth from you for a moment, watching you squirm somewhat at him pushing a second finger into you again. 

“You’re…terrible,” you managed to get out around a small moan. 

“If you could see yourself, you would understand why I do it,” he commented before reattaching his mouth to your clit again. 

You moaned again as he sucked at your clit again, the combination of his fingers pushing you into that familiar territory again. The growing tension in your gut made you tighten your hold in his hair, moving your hips against him until you felt him press you down against the bed with his free hand. This was starting to become rather torturous, as much as you were feeding off the mounting pleasure he was giving you.

In particular, you could feel that pressure moving down toward your core as Dmitri kept his attention on your pussy. You let out a few moans, trying to keep your hips still as he curled his fingers somewhat, tongue flicking against your clit. You took in a short breath, feeling your walls start to twitch somewhat as you could feel yourself growing dangerously close. 

Dmitri pulled back, removing his fingers from inside of you. You let out a small noise at the sudden absence, your walls twitching somewhat but you could already feel that sensation becoming less intense from the lack of stimulation. 

“I want to cum so badly, please…” you muttered around a small breath as Dmitri stood up at the end of the bed. 

“Not yet,” Dmitri repeated, shifting the last of his clothing down to release his hard cock. 

He climbed back up onto the bed, crawling over you so he could press his mouth against yours in a hard kiss. You responded instantly, pressing back into the kiss with a small sigh as you wrapped your arms around the back of his shoulders, his body pressing against your own in a way that was somehow both not enough and a little overwhelming at the same time. 

You lifted your hips somewhat, feeling his cock slide against your folds. The sensation pulled a moan from Dmitri against your mouth, him pressing back in return as he ground himself against you somewhat as you met his motion with another small roll of your hips. He parted from the kiss with a small inhale, letting out another short moan as you rubbed yourself against him again. 

As much as the words were right on the tip of your tongue; how much you wanted to feel him inside you, thankfully you didn’t have to say anything at the moment. Dmitri shifted somewhat, you feeling the tip of his cock press against your entrance as you wrapped your legs around his hips somewhat. You let out a soft sound at him pushing inside, his cock stretching you open a little more with only a little bit of a sting given how wet you already were. While he could push in further with little resistance, Dmitri still went slower than he needed to. 

Though, the feeling of his cock fully inside you was enough to where you didn’t feel the need to complain much. Still, you moved your hips against him, really wanting some movement. Dmitri rolled his hips against yours in turn, another somewhat slow movement as you tried to urge him to move a little faster. You were only met with a small, breathless huff in amusement and another small roll of his hips. 

“I have never seen you so needy for me.” 

“That is completely of your own doing–oh, fuck.” You cut yourself with a small gasp when he pressed into you with a bit of a harder thrust. 

“You have been really good for me, just a little more,” he muttered into your shoulder. 

You gripped a little tighter onto his shoulders as Dmitri’s thrusts became a little harder, setting a rhythm that was easier for you to follow. Still, despite that, you were still ridiculously close and each thrust of his cock rubbed against you in a way that made that fact hard to ignore. You really didn’t know how long ‘just a little more’ was in Dmitri’s mind, yet you tried your best to prolong your looming orgasm, trying not to move too much at points in increasingly poor attempts at trying to hold back. 

Shutting your eyes for a few moments, you tried to focus on anything outside of that pressure building up in you again. It was rather difficult, however, as you could hear Dmitri panting in your ear, his increasingly frequent moans and the sounds of your bodies meeting together as he thrusts grew faster. You let out a small, strained noise almost as a warning–to yourself or him, you weren’t sure–as you could feel that light fluttering deep inside you. 

The seconds almost seemed to drag on, each press of his cock against your walls and prod against that spot inside of you pushing you closer and closer to that edge. Dmitri’s thrusts were coming faster and deeper, the pleasure of those sensations making you moan and cry out more than you really had control over. 

“Dmitri…” you moaned. 

“I know,” he breathed, letting out what sounded like a curse in Russian. 

Mercifully, it seemed like the moment you had been waiting for was not as far off as you had been feeling. After a few more seconds, as much as it felt like time was dragging on indefinitely in the moment, Dmitri let out a deep moan and lifted his head to look at you again. 

“Cum for me,” he finally said, a command that took a few seconds to register but you were more than happy to oblige. 

You started to move your hips in time with his own again, only having to really hold on for more than a few more thrusts before that building pressure finally moved further down. You pressed your head back against the bed as your pussy clenched around Dmitri’s cock, the rush of your orgasm washing out his short praises and comments as you did so. Nor did you really catch the moment when Dmitri buried himself deep inside you and came with a low groan into your neck. You moaned and whimpered a little as the effects of your orgasm started to ebb out, your walls still clenching and fluttering lightly as your mind seemed to return to you. 

Dmitri still lay on top of you, his chest pressing against your own as he was catching his breath. You willed your legs to relax from where you still had them curled against his hips, which prompted him to shift to pull out of you before laying down against your side. 

“You are okay?” he asked after a few moments, which made you nod lightly with a small chuckle. 

“Yes.” 

You placed your hand over the arm Dmitri slung across your middle, smiling softly at the feeling of him pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. 

“I’ll get you back for this,” you muttered, feeling the tickle of Dmitri’s mustache against your skin as he grinned. “Just probably not tonight.” 

#dmitri antonov x reader #enzo x reader #fandom: stranger things

[defiledtomb]

Ouroboros: The first year in development (+small update!)

On this day, a year from now, I sat in the stark light from my monitors, eyes bloodshot and hands trembling; and I clicked the post button. I then choked my pc to death and ran away screaming, scrambling into the corner of the couch on all fours, hissing at every shadow (only one of those statements is a lie).

It was 4 am and I had been scrambling to get the last details of the demo correct, mumbling to myself and reasoning with my dog. I was so happy to be writing again, after years of piddling around with lackluster projects. I never thought Ouro would be welcomed as it was, and to be honest, the fact that it was scared the living shit out of me. After the hype settled, and I sat watching the continuous stream of support that poured my way, I kind of crumbled. There was a long and dirty road of clawing myself out of self-doubt, impostor syndrome and perfectionism. Some part of me knew it was coming, since its very on par with how I am shaped as a person (sopping wet pathetic meow meow), but after climbing many hills on my ongoing healing journey, I felt like I was prepared for it.

Writing Ouroboros went from fun little sidequest to get my mind off becoming a sturdy part of society again (exhausting), to another workload, to form of therapy, then torture and back again. My writing journal is amusing to scroll through:

Things went from bad to...

worse,

until the storm finally weakened. Every entry in my journal from this point gets progressively more hopeful, more resilient against the bad days.

:> This was around the point where I decided I wouldn't give up, come hell or high water. The progress was slow, like bleeding stone and pulling teeth, but it was moving. By the turn of the new year I was battered and bruised, but still hopeful. And I know that this, these emotions that I went through, were way out of proportion for a hobby writing project, but with every ask that came through telling me about your MC's budding journey in Ouro, every gushing emotion you've shared with me, every gleaming piece of art, every kind word; every correcting one, too, this grew to something really precious to me. I wouldn't give it up for anything, even if it feels like I'm barely keeping my head above surface in this terrifying, stormy sea of a life.

I can't wait to see what comes next, even if the road is bumpy. All I know is that I will keep chipping away at this story with everything I got. And all I can say is that I'm so grateful for your continued support and patience, I barely have words for it. You are incredible. Thank you.

Now, enough of my bleeding heart. Get over here! I have some treats to share.

Mainly, it is the little update to the demo that I'd like to share; Idren/Ida's 101. I did my best to finish it today, but I only had an hour or two of effective worktime (excuse: I was outside for most of the day in bloody blizzard and it knocked me on my ass more than I'd like to admit). It is cut off at the different scene transitions, which I will add after I have some time to work on them this saturday. Id's 101 was the most complex out of all of them, so there is still plenty to explore and different outcomes to see. I hope you have fun!

To see it, go through Lena's scene and don't scream -> accept alliance -> visit archives. That will take you to the new content. CW for very emotionally charged arguments and... almost dying.

Play it here. Save often. (or wait until next week as I sadly couldn't finish everything on time for the anniversary) (I have done bare minimum playtesting, but I will fix any gamebreaking errors if there are any, immediately. There shouldn't be any, but you never know.)

A sneakpeek of the short I also will be working on on saturday:

It is sunny on the day of $!{leith}'s funeral. It is not supposed to be sunny. It is supposed to rain on bad days, and the wind is supposed to whip dry leaves into dancing columns. Thunder is supposed to rumble in the distance, and then right near so that the even the windows rattle with trepidation. But it doesn't. The sun lounges calmly on the perfectly still water of Riven's lake, glittering with winking light as the serene waves lick the edge of the populated harbor. There is chatter, too, not the moaning whispers of grieving people. Not a sob to be heard, but the flutter of a laugh and a joyous embrace of lovers right in front of you. 

"People have forgotten, the sacrifice we made." Lyselin stands in full knight-hunter armor beside you, the silver gleaming in the stark light.

And some art of F!Leith that I have started:

♥ That's it. Know that I'm working as hard as I can (both on Ouro, and learning how to balance work around it, lmao.), even if I fall short sometimes, there ain't no quitting. See you soon!

#ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #And just like a year ago i'm about to throw myself on the couch and rest. maybe enjoy some video james #until next week!! I hope you enjoy stepping all over id's nerves. HEHE #dev log #writers update #wip wednesday #I gotta say that I'm really sorry for not managing to finish everything I wanted to. #one day I'll learn not to bite off more than i can chew. one day. but not today

[perpetualproductions]

Please Notice

Little Limoreau one shot, drabble, type thing. I wrote this at 3 am, utterly sleep deprived and surged with sudden motivation. Story of my life. But yeah, not edited at all but thought id share anyway.

Inspired by the song "Please Notice" by Christian Leave.(like, word for word).

--

Jordan is a very observant person. At least they like to think they are. Or maybe it's just something about Marie Moreau. Ever since she stormed into their life, they've noticed things about her, made assumptions based on her words and actions. But they realized just how wrong they were after she went off at them during the gala. They had misread her completely. And they were definitely an asshole for that. Maybe they weren't paying enough attention. Maybe it was because they never even bothered to have a conversation with her outside of bickering with each other. They thought she was this naive, privileged, perfect girl with a perfect little family, who had everything handed to her because of how annoyingly perfect she acted. Now knowing the truth, they couldn't help but laugh at how wrong they got her. After learning about her past and how hard she's worked to get to where she is, and after all the shit life’s thrown at her, still wanting to be a good person and actually help people. That was admirable, to say the least. In that way, she really was perfect. At least that's how Jordan thought of her. Sure, she had her flaws, but it was how she acted despite them that made them love her even more.

 

Holy shit…. They love her?

It took Jordan a while to come to terms with that revelation. Tried brushing it off as some silly crush they had for this objectively attractive woman, but no, it was so much more than that. That's when they started to go out their way to hang out with her more, talk with her, get to know her. They even offered to help her study for her classes, and she accepted! Which was a big win in Jordan's book. 

So there they sat, trying their best to not stare at Marie's face for too long, as they studied in the school's library. Even after they manage to pry their eyes away from her, trying to focus on the book in front of them, Jordan can't help but let their mind wander. It was distracting, to say the least. Jordan often found themselves daydreaming about Marie . And when they slept, they had dreams about her. And when they're not dreaming, they just straight up think about her. She's always infiltrating their thoughts. It's excruciating. Jordan wondered if Marie ever thought of them. Dreamed of them like they did her. Jordan wanted to know, needed to know how she felt, cause they weren't sure if they could go on without knowing. 

Ever since Jordan realized their (probably unrequited) love for Marie, they began to pay more attention to her, catching little things here and there about her. They could tell Marie was really focused when she began to chew on her bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed. Or how she does a little dance when she gets excited about something. When she's mad she closes her eyes, and when she's sad she lets out a specific sounding sigh. Jordan wonders if those sighs are ever over them, or if they're ever the reason she shuts her eyes in anger. They hope to never be.

Jordan wonders if Marie notices things about them. Wonders if she's noticed that Jordan clenches their jaw then they're mad, or how they tend to get silent and fall into themselves when they're sad. They wish she could see the words they say to her. The hints and hidden meanings they send her way when they speak. They're trying to be subtle, but maybe they need to be more clear. Say it out loud, straight up, no beating around the bush. But that sounded terrifying. The thought of saying too much too soon, scaring her away. They weren't sure if they could handle that. 

But it's been months. And they need to know. They need her to know. Need her to know how in love with her they are. Need her to see how in love with her they are. And they need her to know how everything she does makes their heart stop and takes their breath away.

But Jordan will soon find out that Marie does in fact feel the same way. She does think of them during the day, and dreams about them at night. She notices how they clench their jaw when they're mad and how they fall silent when they're sad. How they smile (with those beautiful dimples on display) every time they spot each other in a room. But she isn't perfect. She has her own insecurities holding her back from saying anything outright. So for now they drop little hints and messages in the words they say, hoping Jordan picks up on just how mutual the feelings are. 

Neither of them asked for this. To be helplessly enamored with a beautiful person who just waltzed right into their lives. But God are they glad they did. It was too precious a thing to risk, they thought. But they could live with silently loving each other for now. So long as they could keep the other in their lives. As long as the other was happy in their company, it was all that mattered. And maybe one day they will both notice how much they love each other. They'll both know how much the other loves them back. And everything will be right. 

--

Hope you enjoyed! 😎👍❤️

#gen v #gen v fic #limoreau #limoreau fic #limoreau drabble #limoreau oneshot #jordan li #marie moreau #inspired by song #who needs sleep when you can think of Limoreau #it was 3am #bear with me #wrote this instead of sleeping #wrote this instead of my other fic #we ball #pb writes

[soundbodys]

AMBROSE BASSFORD: autism?

hi!!!! welcome to part 1 of "i've got some thoughts on adamandi" >:) i have some other analysis that i do want to share about other things, not just randomly diagnosing fictional characters! but this post is about ambrose being on the autism spectrum <3

i'm not a medical professional by any means, but this is just coming from both my experience as an autistic person and the research i've been able to do about the disorder. and other people's experiences! please dont come for me if things are just a touch inaccurate. without further ado: lets fucking gooooooooo!

[ID: ambrose bassford with his hands on vincent lin's shoulders. he is looking into the distance with a determined look in his eye. vincent looks towards him with concern. end ID]

(please excuse my terrible quality screenshots. um. yeah.)

i'll also preface this by saying that yes, much of this is also informed by his status as a transgender student in the early-mid 1900s. i still think it's fun to analyze and compare my (and others') experiences to his!

THE MARMORIUS SOCIETY

[ID: preston monterey and adrian farthington (or miscellaneous marmorei) putting a letterman jacket on ambrose. ambrose is smiling. there is a caption at the bottom reading "rooftops that nobody frequents where secret societies meet" in all caps. end ID]

firstly, i will address the marmorius society. i'm fairly certain that the marmorei in "word to the wise" are meant more to represent the then-present-now-past members that welcomed ambrose freshman year rather than preston and adrian, but thats ok. what matters more is the subtext in word to the wise that we can glean from the choreography and interactions between ambrose and vincent. beginning the song, and similarly his freshman year, ambrose struggles to fit in like each of the other students entering ardess. he initially seems more comfortable interacting with vincent, but then gets taken in by the marmorei. this is exactly where his mannerism and attitude shift

here, we see ambrose fitting in (or, making an attempt to) with the other marmorei. from vincent's account, we know that ambrose's actions and behaviors almost completely changed after becoming part of the society. this is a really roundabout way of saying hey, ambrose found a place where he thinks he might belong! rather than learning and adapting to normal and regular social rules, he latches onto and mimics a very specific subset of people. to him, they know what they are doing and they have a way of being social that he can't understand so he mimics instead of just adjusting the way he already was. this mimicking makes a bit of sense in that he's not quite conforming to social cues (he still doesn't exactly fit in), but he's trying to. it feels to me a bit like how it is to feel alienated from your peers, even though you are trying your hardest to mask. of course, his "off"-ness is also contributed to by his transness so take that as you will.

2. WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?

[ID: ambrose is standing facing vincent. vincent is facing him with his hands to his back uncomfortably. the caption reads. "i've been looking to include more variations in body type." end ID]

this one is shorter than the marmorius society bulletpoint. actually, most of them are. that one is long winded. ANYWAY, ambrose is kind of... interesting when it comes to his interactions. specifically, he encourages vincent to join the marmorei by saying he's been "looking to include more variations in body type." to him, he's being completely honest and genuinely wants vincent to take interest in his phaethon project. unfortunately, to both vincent and much of the audience, this comes off as comically insensitive at best or offensive at worst. this comes from a lack of awareness of social cues, similar to the lack of knowledge of social norms from the previous bulletpoint. while he knows how to conform to the marmorei, there is still a lot of social cues he needs to work on. often, autistic people will speak bluntly and honestly in their communication. this is really not that far off, even if it was just a little gag!

3. OMG, SENSORY ISSUES!

[ID: caption reading, "he didn't eat the apple because he said he didn't like how its flesh felt on the skin of his thumbs." end ID]

kind of self explanatory. all metaphors aside, ambrose doesn't like the flesh of a peeled apple on his thumbs. i understand (<- i loooove peeled apples though)

4. BLACK AND WHITE THINKING: IF NOT ME, WHO?

[ID: lyrics reading, "if i was stronger i could fix this; / cut the bad and leave the good / be the marble and the sculptor / like my father says i should." end ID]

[ID: lyrics reading, "so my parents and my girlfriend / my closest friends and you / will know i deserve their love / once there's no more work to do / there are only three people who'll be perfect in their eyes / me, myself, and i" end ID]

two screenshots! often, autism causes what can be called "black and white" or polarized thinking. it's like, there's only one solution or there are only the extremes (although, this isn't to be confused with the black and white thinking associated with BPD. i don't have experience on that but ive heard quincy and vincent can fit the bill). for ambrose, there's only one solution to both his dysphoria and distorted self worth: becoming the perfect man by... becoming marble or whatever. as if there is only ONE way to do this, without alternative methods. i sometimes find myself in the same spiral, and have meltdowns either when it doesn't work out or if i'm offered an alternative solution that goes against what i thought might work. even in the second screenshot here, we see that he thinks the only way to earn love is through this specific task. he cannot be unconvinced, even if vincent tries to offer him an alternative solution.

5. WHY APOLLO, BOYS?

[ID: ambrose is hanging off a ladder, his hand out and mouth open singing. the caption reads, "apollo's look is yours: sound body, sound mind" in all caps. end ID]

this is where i dip more into the headcanon territory than i already have. i couldn't really include every screenshot where he talks about a) apollo, b) sculpture, or c) fitness. this is kind of part of his character in general but i like to think of it as his special interests. it's remarkable how many autistic people i know who have majored in something related to their spinterests (including myself! in a way)

6. DON'T FLATTER YOURSELF, LIN!

[ID: vincent awkwardly puts a hand on ambrose's arm, ambrose looks at him longingly. end ID]

ambrose... did not interpret the social cues correctly in the scene directly after "sound body, sound mind." it's really just written in the text, but just in case, i will remind you that vincent pretty much says "hey, i kind of strived to be like you because i had this incorrect assumption of who you were, sorry about that lol" and ambrose took it all wrong and thought this was a romantic advance. he just... didn't interpret it right. honest mistake, but a very common mistake among autistic people. and, unrelated to the autism thing, his comeback isn't smooth at all lmao

THERE YOU HAVE IT! i'm sure there could be more to be said, but my hands hurt (disability) and i can't think of any more off the top of my head. feel free to add on with anything you want to say!!!! thank you for reading!!!! here's the sillies for you, as a reward for getting this far :)

[ID: preston, ambrose, and adrian with their arms on each others' shoulders, stepping in sync. end ID]

#>SOUND MIND< #adamandi #ALSO LMK IF THIS IS LIKE. OUT OF PLACE OR IF IM JUST FUCKING WRONG ACTUALLY. #the autism strikes again (i write an essay for funsies on a tuesday night) #it's also past midnight. i hope this is coherent #vincent aurelius lin #ambrose bassford #preston monterey #adrian farthington #vincent lin #ambrose wellington bassford #meta

[habit-poxly]

filthy work - simon “ghost” riley

description: ghost has a moment of emotional weakness and invites you over to his flat after a fight. ( ghost’s pov, gender neutral, they/them pronouns, no physical description of you, x reader )

warnings: toxic relationships, smoking, fighting, fluff 

mentions of: drug use, age gap, suicide

word count: 3k

When I look into my eyes in the mirror, I can see the shadows behind those glass bulbs dissolve into a rushing black sea of shame. I'll often avoid catching glimpses of myself in the feeble attempt to put off confronting my cruel reality just a bit longer. The skin that sits atop my flesh, scattered with scars of wounds caused in every way imaginable. The torture in my youth was endless, my father took a keen interest in ensuring I never had a moment of peace. So, I do not, nor have I ever. Except, of course, when I'm with them.

The way their fingers delicately dance across my skin, the way they kiss my scars, the way they run their fingers through my hair, all heal my broken soul in a way no other living being ever could. Initially, I treated my interest in them as an infatuation, a schoolboy crush I could subdue by plunging myself into their core and then rapidly pulling away. Unfortunately, the second their lips met my skin it felt like my heart had been set on fire. After our first night together I found myself spiralling deeper and deeper into the ocean that is them- threatening to submerge me completely. If it was them, I thought, drowning would be something I'd beg for. Something I'd need. 

The moans and shutters I got the pleasure of drawing from them were enough- for a while- but eventually, my mind began to wander. We had shared very few tender moments, something I lamented over often. I almost always leave immediately after we finish having sex, the air always feels poisoned by me somehow, like the sickness that rested in my bones had infected the air in the room. If I'd say id only suffocate them with my rot, and they would pull me under the surface. Staying always forced something out of me, some soft, sensitive part of myself that I was petrified of presenting to anyone, let alone them. But, every once and a while my resolve would fade; I'd watch as a frown tugged at the corners of their mouth as I stood up and would crumble. 

"What does your dream house look like?" Their head was laid on my chest, looking up at me with bright eyes. The question made me pause, the answer truthfully was sappy; a combination of 'Whatever you'd like' and 'I don't care as long as you're there with me.'.

I let out a 'hm', not wanting to ruin the moment- that's something I found myself doing often. It was a habit of mine to accidentally ruin the mood by opening myself up before snapping closed again the second I got uneasy. I had collected more of those memories than I cared to admit, but I had been making an effort to change that- as best as I can. I'd never say that to them, though. What would I say? 'I'm working on not being as big of a piece of shit to you because I love you.' I'd rather be chopped up in Siberia than say that out loud. 

"Something far away, middle o' nowhere. Big land, small house." My voice was noticeably horse, something that had always made them shiver. Their index finger began tracing small shapes onto the exposed skin of my chest. At that moment I felt lucky they hadn't been laying their head above my heart- they differently would have heard how fast it got when they began tracing love hearts. Something like this a few months ago, so sickeningly homely, would have been unimaginable- might have even made me gag. 

They hum before leaning up and planting a soft kiss on my lips. 

"All alone?" They had muttered, the question genuine in its phrasing yet still leaving something unsaid. 

No. Not all alone. For a moment I wanted to whisper out how deeply I needed them, how they infected me and how it wouldn't be fair to leave me suffering- struggling to breathe without them kissing life into my battered body. Yet, the words always seem to lodge in my throat, my body throwing itself into panic. 

They can always sense when my mood shifts, never pushing any further. 

The memory ends with me wordlessly leaving them lying alone in bed, that night cruelly ending the same as every other. 

Normally, we both do our fair part in avoiding conflict with each other, but tonight had been different for them somehow. The words I had flung at them had been completely meaningless to me, all being dragged out of me by the anger I've struggled my entire life to control. I had always hoped they knew that. Despite me never saying it, I desperately hoped they knew I didn't mean it. On the other hand, the words they would say, full of care and unconditional love would burn themselves into my heart forever. 

It had started off simple enough but quickly rolled downhill into a complete mess. 

"I just want to know what we are, Simon. I can't keep stringing myself along like this!" They were trying their best not to cry as my form towered over them. I know it's cruel to push them away and then run back to them, especially at the frequency I do it, but no matter how hard I try I can't seem to stop myself from sabotaging my relationship with them. 

"It's just sex." I had told them harshly, I remember feeling unbearable pain tug at my chest when tears finally fell from their eyes. They staggered a breath in- more than a few tears fall down the glowing flesh of their cheek, threatening to break me completely. 

"I was very clear with you about that from the beginning. I always told you all I ever wanted out of you was sex." I was correct, I had told them that, too many times to count. At no point had I ever meant it. In my heart, I've always wanted them. But I would never say that. Never out loud. I wasn't built to, no part of my body was put together with love. I can't. 

"I thought I was changing your mind!" Their voice cracked and faltered, silently weeping. I had never heard a sentence spoken more broken, more emotionally shattered. I had justified- in some twisted way- pushing them away in this manner as me protecting them from getting hurt- and me taking them back as the selfish part, but this clearly had hurt them more than anything else I could have done. 

Those were the words that forced me out the door, the words that buried themselves into my heart when it spilled from their lips. I hadn't thought of a time in years when a sentence had caused me to shake so violently- or one that had crushed my spirit so completely.  

Staring into my flats bathroom mirror I note the deep bags under my eyes, ones that have resided in their spots for decades, seem slightly darker now. I wanted to call her, the phone sat unlocked- waiting- on the counter in front of me, but I couldn't manage to work up the courage to do it. No amount of bourbon seems to assist in writing out a coherent apology to send over text, absolutely shocking. 

They had changed my mind, and long before they thought they had begun the process of doing so. 

All I wanted was them. 

I wanted a little house on a big property with them, with shutters and a nice porch where we could smoke together. A cat, maybe a dog too, we name them together. A kitchen they design, one they feel comfortable slow dancing in together. We'd have a pool table and a mini bar in the basement, we get drunk and play pool, I'd show off and make them giggle while leaving sloppy kisses on their shoulders. They'd bring light to the dark world I've been trapped in my entire life and I'd finally be able to breathe. 

"Fuck." I grumble before reaching for my phone, all my resolve disappearing. 

My flat had always been strictly off limits in our 'situationship' as they jokingly referred to it once. Our meetings would almost always take place either on base, at their flat, or in a hotel room. Initially, I hadn't allowed them over because I was trying to be as impersonal with us having sex as possible, but even as that became something that wasn't the case I still never invited them over. It had become more about me being embarrassed about how empty my life was than anything else. 

The walls of my flat were bare. No clean clothes were ever folded and put away- they would sit on top of the drier until the washing needed to be done again. I had three plates, two bowls, 1 mug, 4 normal glasses, and 8 liquor glasses, all of which have only ever been used by myself. It was always a bit messy, but only ever with my gear, booze bottles, or cigarette ash; which consists of almost everything I own. 

I hadn't wanted anyone to know how barren my life was, but as I poured myself a fifth glass of bourbon my insecurity faded with my sobriety. 

'I'll do it as quickly as possible' I drunkenly whisper. My thumb presses on their message contact in my phone. When they put it in they had put their name as a little text face, I had snatched my phone away and changed it to something formal in front of them- but the second they were out of my sight I had changed it back. I was their Lieutenant, not just a hook-up regardless of anything else; yet I still found it cute enough to keep to myself. 

They've been ' :3 ' in my phone for weeks. 

Taking another sip I attach the link for my address before pressing send. It was the most I could manage. 

Immediately the amount of booze I drank is not enough. 

'Read' pops up under the message only a few seconds after it delivers, making every hair on my body stand on end. I fucking hate that I turned that on now. The grey bubble to indicate that they're typing pops up for an unbearable amount of time, minutes on end before disappearing completely. 

I feel my heart pounding through my entire body- they'd be right to not respond, or to respond with a heart-wrenching, suicide-inducing paragraph about how big of a piece of shit I am. After what felt like an eternity of radio silence I get a response. 

"give me 20" 

It felt like a bomb went off in my chest. There was not a soul before them that could have made me flustered, made me blush like a 6-year-old boy getting a kiss from his crush. Somehow they managed to reduce my massive form to a heap in front of them and yet never pass judgment. My scars to them are part of me, my damage is something not to push away, but something they hold tenderly for me to help ease how much weight is on my shoulders. 

I didn't think people like them actually existed. Someone who would hold the world up for me regardless of me having never said thank you, regardless of me pushing them away. I took their heart, tore off a piece and handed it back to them no longer whole- and still, they rub my back and kiss my neck. I couldn't imagine a human being was capable of being so divine. 

Another swig of bourbon makes its way down my throat, generously subduing the overpouring of emotions bubbling in my stomach. 

Rushing around my flat I pick up a few things off the ground, make my bed, and hide the countless empty bourbon bottles under the sink. There's nothing I can do at the moment about how depressing this place looks, or the lingering smell of cigarettes and mid-life crisis. Their flat was a stark contrast to mine, making the anxiety seep its roots deeper into my gut. Part of me wondered if the dated furniture and my drunken, desperate demeanour would be off-putting. I strain to pull my mask over my face in anticipation of their arrival, it'll most likely come off the second I feel like I gained some confidence. 

Staring at the clock I wonder why I've even done this. They'll come here expecting change, expecting me to crawl back a different person. For them, I would try. I would work so hard to please them that It could kill me, but I know myself well enough to know I can't promise to be better. 

I had only really opened up to them once, drunkenly pouring out how I felt like there was no good in me. Like all I had been through had created deep cracks in my soul that let everything good fall out. I held onto their hands tightly, my eyes to the ground. Every part of me had been screaming that I shouldn't have, that they would think of me poorly, as weak and leave. But, of course, they didn't. They would never. They ran their hands through my hair and rubbed my back, whispering words of comfort that I had never had directed at me before. 

My eyes fixated on the stove clock, these are no doubt the most agonizing 20 minutes of my life. I've been beaten, burned, thrown out of helicopters and hung up by my rips, and this is the most unbearable moment of my life- second only to the countless other times I've made them miserable. 

I pace back and forth, pouring and downing yet another drink. I've always had a drinking problem- well, a substance abuse problem in general. 

"With your smoking habit, I'm surprised you're almost 50 and have both your lungs!" They had said to me teasingly during some patrol on base once. I was rather quick to remind them that 45 is not 'almost 50'. Our age gap has always worried me, I'm able to keep up with what they want but it often made me feel like an old man.

More and more anxiety settles in as the 20-minute mark comes and goes, my eyes move from the clock to my phone- waiting for any sort of indication that they were standing me up.

Three soft knocks at my front door shut down all thoughts of them not showing up. Without thought, I move to the door and swing it open, desperate to look down into those oceans of eyes once again- to breathe. They almost always bring me something when they see me- joints, booze, cigars, some weird chip flavour they saw at the store, anything- I've never been sure why; so it was no surprise to see a clear plastic bag sitting in one of their hands. We stand there, my frame blocking the entrance to the flat. I adore the way they look up at me, eyes clearly tired from the hoops I've dragged them through today, yet still managing to make my head spin. 

"Hi" They break the silence, their voice timid and unsure. I move to the side and motion them in. They take off their shoes and place them neatly off to the side. I think about the boots that had been lying there on the floor haphazardly just minutes before, it drawing a small smirk from me. 

"Nice flat." It was a rather expected comment, but it still brought heat to my face. I shrug. 

"I'm never here." I respond a bit too quickly, causing them to raise an eyebrow. This was a lie, I'm exclusively here when I'm not on deployment. I suppose if I downplay how often I'm here it'll make the lack of possessions less freakish. Especially considering I'm an adult man and not a broke college kid. 

They pause, their face contorting into confusion for a second before faltering to unimpressed. 

"You're hammered." They said sternly, no doubt now smelling my drink of choice whisking off me. They wander over to my kitchen island and place the bag on top of it. 

"I needed.." I pause, unsure if I should finish my sentence. 

"I needed to talk to you." 

A deep sigh leaves their lips before they rub their hands over their face, stress dripping off them like water. With their face still buried in their palms, they nod- the gift of their continued presence one that I welcomed. 

Their eyes turn up at me, peering holes through my flesh and looking deep into the foundation of my soul. 

"I... I can't stop thinking about our fight, love." My fingers itched to be interlocked with theirs, it was like some part of me was tethered to them- and no matter what I did, it always pulled me into them. I study their face, their mouth somehow dropping even more at the events mention. My words lodge in my throat again, causing a familiar panic to settle over my body. Their eyes flicker over my mask, they had always expressed how pissed off it would make them when I wore it during 'personal' moments. But, It was my safety net- they always respected that.  

They suck a deep breath in before reaching for my hand- as if they could read my mind. I let them take it, their thumb rubbing soothing circles over the meat of my palm. 

"You did change my mind-" I mutter, just loud enough for them to hear. It felt desperate to let spill, like a sobbing prayer for mercy. 

"From the moment you set foot into my eye line, you're all I've been able to think about." 

A soft, comforting smile plants itself across their lips, their hand coming to meet my masked cheek. 

"Will you be able to tell me all this when you're sober?" Their voice hummed through my skull. 

Quickly, I scoff and chuckle before responding with a swift 'no'. With a tired look in their eyes, they chuckle with me and pull me into a hug. My arms wrap around their frame and after a few moments, we begin rocking back and forth. It was wholesome and loving, overwhelmingly so. Maybe this was worth it, even if they can't handle me forever. 

"Do you love me?" I blurt out. The prospect of being in love with them had been so unbelievable that for a period of time I had refused to even think of the word. It became quickly apparent during our semi-regular night meet-up sessions that I was beyond madly in love.

It was clear they liked me, and maybe they did love me; I've always convinced myself overwise though. 

"I love you." They respond, their words are spoken into my chest sending shocks through my body. I grip them hard, those words still unable to leave my throat to return how I feel. I hoped there was an understanding between us that I did love them- as much as I'm possibly capable of. 

My hand grips the top of my mask before tearing it off. I plant my lips on theirs, trying my best to be gentle, something I had never done while kissing them before. It was sloppy at first, my face half numb from the booze- but eventually, we settled into it. Their arms wrap around my neck as my hands meet their waist. This was far from the first time my lips danced haphazardly across theirs, yet it felt like it for some reason. My ears were buzzing, my face red and hot, my heart swelling with a feeling I'll never be able to articulate. 

They pull back, letting both their hands slide to the sides of my cheeks. Looking at them, I've never felt more peace, more hope for our future, possibly together. 

"It'll be hard, filthy work- loving me." My eyes dart across their features, stunned.

"I don't care-" They respond, no hesitation to be found in their voice. Their fingers brush across my cheek leaving me a mess. 

"Not as long as it's you." 

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #x my posts #x codmw2 ff

[quinloki]

OKAY ANOTHER FUN THOUGHT

sabo/marco borrowing your 'romance' books bc they need something to read in between more technical material

and what better way to find out what you like than to figure out what books you reread often bc surely there's something in there that tickles your brain

and then it's just like oh hey let's try this and you're like ???? bc you didn't know they borrowed the book

or they try it on the 'holiday' totally just pull something out of nowhere like impact play or knifeplay and you're like wait this is hot but how did you know

or sneaking up behind you bc they both seem like sneaky mfs while you're really engrossed in a particular part and watching you for a bit before whispering in your ear that they can make it a reality (tbh I don't really read romance books but fics don't work in this context I feel so >>)

ya know I'm down this rabbit hole again of thinking about them and I'm like not mad about it but I feel like this is really raising Sabo up the ranks in my head substantially

Oh it works with fics. You can have a reading tablet and leave it open while you go to do something and Sabo just walks by and is like "Huh?" and realizes you have an Ao3 account (or whatever) and is like "Oh???"

He doesn't even have to do much except know your ID, and he can see what you've got bookmarked. Maybe once he realizes it though he checks out your history, or sees if you've written anything. Now he has ideas. Marco might scold him, Sabo swears to come clean with you, but the idea that they could tailor-make a surprise for you based off what you're reading is too good to pass up.

And if you only like something as a fantasy, you have the words to stop them.

Once the cat's out of the proverbial bag then it opens up more options for them. You're talking about what you're reading, and maybe even sharing things more directly with them, etc.

One Holiday they decide to do like a Romance Trope Melody - and they just keep doing all sorts of really dorky - but wildly fantastic drops. You get the kabedon, or however it's spelled. They made grand gestures of asking you to dance, there's homemade chocolates (thank you Thatch for helping them beforehand). There's a kissing contest and you have to decide whose kiss was better.

xD

Oh man, a Monster Fucker Holiday - gods save me...

#quin answers #reader insert #x reader #kazieai #marco the phoenix #revolutionary sabo #sabo the revolutionary

[recoveringdreamer]

TIMING: current (just after the road to hell) LOCATION: the grit pit SUMMARY: after his ‘discussion’ with wyatt and zane, leo decides it’s time to show felix a thing or two about consequences.  CONTENT: domestic abuse, emotional abuse

The call came in late. Felix had only just fallen asleep, exhausted after a particularly grueling fight at work. It had gone long — something their handlers and the audience greatly enjoyed, even if Felix themself hated it. It had been a pretty bloody one, too; they’d spent a good hour under the steady stream of water in their shower, trying to scrub the blood from their skin. By the time they finally crawled under their comforter, they’d almost stopped shaking. Their eyes were heavy, and it didn’t take long for them to slip shut.

But then the phone rang.

It startled them at first. The sudden jolt into awakeness sent their heart into their throat, the adrenaline they thought they’d left in the ring after the fight seeping back in and making their breath catch. It took a moment to pinpoint the source of the shrill sound, to remember where they’d left their phone on the bedside table. They fumbled with it for a moment, not bothering to check the caller ID before answering. There was really only one person who’d call with such little regard for Felix’s rest.

“H’llo?” They slurred, tongue still heavy with sleep.

For a moment, they were greeted with silence. There was deep, measured breathing coming from the other end of the line, but nothing more than that. Felix wished they could just hang up, but they knew it wasn’t a good idea. Leo had always had a temper; the end of their relationship didn’t grant Felix freedom from its consequences. 

Finally after a few more unsettling seconds of silence, the voice at the other end of the line spoke in a low tone. “I spoke with your friends tonight,” Leo said, and the cold anger was so achingly familiar. Felix sat up in their bed, their heart pounding. Instinctively, they looked behind them, as if Leo might manifest in their bedroom, as if he would crawl out from beneath the bed or stumble out of the closet like the monster every child knew haunted the dark corners of their rooms. But Felix’s room was empty. It was only them here. 

(This did nothing to ease the fear.)

“I, um… I’m not sure who you mean,” they said, and they hated how small they sounded. They hated that, with nothing more than a sharp word, Leo could undo every ounce of progress they told themself they’d made. They weren’t the warm, sometimes-funny person who had friends like Mona and Teagan and Anita, weren’t the helpful hand who’d volunteer to offer Wyatt assistance he didn’t need in the kitchen or try to carry more of Luci’s groceries than they had hands for. They were the person they’d been on the worst days of their relationship with Leo — the one who hardly came out from beneath the comforter because they knew they’d get something wrong, the one who had a panic attack because they forgot to pick up batteries for the remote even after they’d been reminded. 

“Of course you don’t.” Leo scoffed, and Felix could picture him throwing his hands up in the air in frustration the way he so often had. “God. You’re just as stupid as ever, aren’t you? I don’t know what would be worse — if this was an act you were putting on to fool everyone, or if you really were just this fucking useless. It’s humiliating, you know. So much of you is fucking humiliating. I don’t know how you manage.”

Felix swallowed. They shut their eyes, leaned back against the headboard. They were trembling, and they wished they could grow enough ot a spine to just hang up the fucking phone, but it was like it was glued to their ear. They couldn’t hang up and they couldn’t speak. Just like when they had shared a home with Leo, their job became to be still and quiet and do whatever was expected of them. Leo would let them know what that was; he always did.

And Felix never had to wait long.

“Come to the Pit,” Leo demanded.

“I… I just got off.” Felix’s voice was small, still. “I’m really tired. I was going to…”

“Come to the fucking Pit.” His tone left no room for argument now. “If you’re here in ten minutes, maybe I won’t be quite as pissed off.” 

It was an impossible task, and Leo knew it. Even if Felix hadn’t been in bed already, shirtless and shoeless and half asleep, there was no way for them to make it to the Grit Pit in ten minutes. They lived at least fifteen minutes away. Still, they found themself rushing, tripping over themself to try to meet an impossible standard. It took them seventeen minutes to get there; they were hyperaware of every second of it.

When they did pull into the parking lot and stumble through the doors, Leo was already waiting for them. He’d probably been there before making the call, probably been stewing in whatever was pissing him off. Felix still wasn’t sure what it was, though he knew he’d find out. Leo wasn’t particularly secretive about what made him angry.

“Jesus, about fucking time,” Leo grumbled, stomping over to meet Felix at the door. His hand shot out to grip the balam’s wrist, twisting it as he yanked them towards the offices. Felix stumbled to follow, closing the door behind them.

“What — Uh, what —”

“A little gator told me you’re unhappy with your contract,” Leo snapped.

Felix flinched. All at once, the pieces fell into place. Wyatt had been hankering to take action ever since Felix confessed the nature of their employment with the Grit Pit, but they thought — Wyatt said he wouldn’t say anything to Leo. Didn’t he? He said. 

But clearly, something had happened. Leo was steaming as he yanked Felix into his office, slamming the door shut behind them. Felix flinched at the sound, shrinking so far into himself that they were practically folded in half. 

“I — I didn’t — I wouldn’t —” Felix stammered, desperate to find some excuse that would save them without damning Wyatt. He’d only been trying to help. Felix knew that. He wouldn’t have done whatever he’d done if he hadn’t cared about Felix, and he didn’t deserve to be thrown under the bus for that.

“I didn’t — I wouldn’t — I — I,” Leo’s voice was shrill and mocking, and Felix’s jaw snapped shut quickly. “God, you’re so fucking pathetic. How much brainpower do you use trying to string a sentence together? It must be close to all of it. How do you make it through the fucking day, Fe, honestly? I really want to know.” 

But he didn’t. That was the thing about Leo — he asked questions, but he never wanted them answered. In their braver moments, Felix allowed themself to think about the way Leo just liked to hear himself talk, allowed themself to lament on the fact that he probably enjoyed the sound of his own voice more than just about anything else in the world. But this wasn’t one of their braver moments. There was no private joke to share with themself at the way Leo rambled, clearly only trying to be the loudest thing in the room. In moments like this one, Felix was an ant who’d found itself in the floor of a kitchen with the knowledge that it had just been spotted. The sole of a shoe was already hanging over their head; all they could do was wait for it to drop and crush them into nothing.

“Your buddy Lockjaw attacked me tonight,” Leo spat, and Felix flinched. “Had his hands around my throat. Do you know what he wanted?” There was a pause, though not one long enough for Felix to speak. They knew what was expected of them here — it wasn’t a verbal response. “He wanted me to let you go.” Leo punctuated it with a bitter laugh, and Felix tried not to start hyperventilating. It only ever made Leo angrier when they did. “Let you go! Like I’m not the best thing that ever happened to you. God, you’d still be living in the fucking woods if I hadn’t dragged you into society. You know that, don’t you? Everything you’ve got, you owe to me. You’re the one who fucked with my life. You, and all your pathetic fucking whining. It was suffocating. And then, I get you this job, and I think, hey, that’s the end of it. But it’s not, is it? It never fucking is. You’re still fucking shit up for me.”

It was a familiar tirade. Felix knew it by heart. They were an embarrassment, they were stupid, they were helpless. Leo was their savior, and they’d only ever made his life worse. They were lucky he’d put up with them as long as he had, should be grateful to him for it. He was kind and understanding and forgiving and they were foolish and useless and clingy. Nothing he’d ever done was wrong, and nothing they’d ever done was right. Most days, it was easy to reject it all. Or, at least, easier than it used to be. Felix still struggled to untangle things sometimes, but they had people in their life who made it easier now. Most days. Tonight, with lack of sleep lowering their inhibitions and anxiety thrumming in their chest, it was harder. Leo’s shirt was crumbled around the collar, and Felix could imagine Wyatt’s hands gripping it. They hated the guilt that sunk into their chest at the sight, hated the way all they wanted to do was apologize. They should have been stronger than this by now. They should have been better.

“I’m sorry.” The words slipped out almost without their permission. They wondered if Wyatt would be ashamed of them if he heard, if he’d regret wasting his time standing up for someone who couldn’t even stand up for themself.

“You should be,” Leo scoffed. “He had your other friend with him, too, you know. The one from the boiler room.” Zane. Felix didn’t offer up his name, only looked down at their trembling fingers. “God, what did you do, Fe? Did you sell them some sob story? Convince them you’re a stray in need of rescue? Fucking look at me.” Fingers gripped their chin, jerking their head up and forcing their eyes to meet Leo’s. The grip was tight; they’d probably have bruises. It didn’t loosen, even as they held their head up to maintain the eye contact. “You know there are going to be consequences, right?”

Fear was a jackrabbit in their chest. It thumped its feet against the ground, it dug and dug and dug and tried to tunnel its way to some kind of safety. “Leo, wait a minute.” Their voice was slightly muffled, mouth unable to move around the words thanks to the hand still gripping their chin. “They didn’t — They didn’t mean it. They’re not… Please, don’t — They don’t understand. That’s all. I can tell them, I can explain it better, just don’t… They don’t deserve to be…”

“Relax, babe.” The pressure on their chin increased to something far more painful before disappearing as Leo released them. “They’ll be fine. I promised them they wouldn’t see any consequences. It’s not really their fault, is it?” 

Felix’s heart sank. They wanted to look down again, but they forced their neck to stay in its upright position. Looking away would only bring that vice grip back to their chin, and they knew it. They swallowed, chest tight. “No,” they whispered. “It’s not their fault.”

“Right.” Leo smiled, but there was no comfort in it. It was sharp and dangerous, and Felix felt sick. “You’re the one who fucked up. You know that, don’t you?” He waited for Felix to nod, bringing a hand up to pat the side of their face. “So, what do we do with you? Hm? I’ve tried so many things already. More fights? We could put you up against Razor again, another three night event. Less fights? It’d be a shame if you couldn’t afford to keep your stomach full. But we’ve done that before, haven’t we? Nothing ever sticks. You’re such a bad learner. It’s a little sad, really, just how fucking stupid you are. We need a good lesson this time. One that really gets through that thick, idiotic skull of yours. It’s gotta be something that really drills itself in there, don’t you think?”

Felix’s eyes slipped shut for a moment, burning. Leo must have calmed himself down a little, because he didn’t punish the lapse. When their eyes opened again — vision blurrier now — he was still smiling, sharp and dangerous.

“I think,” he said slowly, “I’d like to be able to keep a closer eye on you. Obviously you need a little bit of a chaperone. That’s my fault, really. I should’ve known better than to release a wild animal out on its own without any guidance, right?” 

Fuck you. They’d say it if they were stronger. Wyatt would have. Samir, too. But Felix was a coward, just as they’d always been, and they were silent, just as they’d always been. Whatever punishment Leo dreamed up, they probably wouldn’t get much of a say in the matter.

“First thing’s first!” Leo clapped his hands together, and Felix flinched at the way it echoed. “I did a nice thing for you tonight. I didn’t punish your friends for falling for your bullshit. Wasn’t that good of me? Aren’t you grateful?” He leaned in, so close that Felix could feel his hot breath on their throat. They knew what was expected of them here, too, but they didn’t want to give it. They pursed their lips, trying to maintain eye contact without falling apart. 

A hand came up, gripped at the back of their neck harshly. “Come on, Fe.” Leo’s voice was lower now, dangerous. “Mind your manners. I’d hate to stop being so nice.”

Their eyes slipped shut again, and the grip tightened. “Thank you.” It was as if the words had been clawed from their mouth, as if their throat had held onto them for as long as it possibly could before giving in. The grip loosened, the looming presence leaned back. Hands clapped together again, just as loud and terrifying as before. Felix’s flinch was just as violent.

“There we go. Now. To repay that thanks… I think we’re done with that apartment of yours for a while. You’ll be sleeping here until further notice. Think of all the time it’ll save you on the commute! I’ll throw a mattress in that boiler room you like so much. I don’t think the rats are too bad but, hey! You’re a cat. Think of it as enrichment, sweetheart.” 

It felt like the world was closing in around them. It was a small thing, their apartment. It was nothing fancy, it was sparsely decorated, the water heater leaked and the fridge didn’t get very cold, but it was theirs. It was a space they had that was their own, a space Leo had never touched and their father had never tainted. The idea of losing it pulled a shuddering breath from their chest. It would have been a sob had they not known firsthand just how much that would piss Leo off. 

“And another thing!” It felt like there was ice in their veins. He wasn’t done. Unsurprising, really, given Leo’s temper. He was never satisfied tearing things apart in halves. He needed to pull the goddamn world down. Felix forced their eyes open again, forced themself to look because they were supposed to. “Your fights have gotten sloppy. We’re going to fix that, too. From now on, I want to see less Felix in that ring, more jaguar. Your buddy made a great point tonight — people don’t want to see you looking human. They want to know what kind of an animal you are. If I see you in that ring less than… let’s say three-fourths shifted? You won’t like what happens.”

Something that close to a complete shift would give Felix next to no control in the ring, and they knew Leo knew that. They knew that was the point. But what could they say? The perimeters of their contract gave Leo enough control to tell them exactly how they ought to fight. Already, they swore they could feel the strings tightening, the noose around their throat. 

Leo smiled again. He stepped forward, invading Felix’s space with little regard for their comfort. His hand came up, patted their cheek like before. There was nothing fond in the gesture, though they used to mistake it for such. They did a good job not flinching now, but they couldn’t hide the grief in their eyes. Judging by the smug expression on Leo’s face, it was exactly what he’d been looking for.

“I think this was a productive little meeting!” Leo’s smile widened into a grin, and he took a step backwards. “Really, I had fun. Did you have fun?” Felix was silent, and Leo nodded as if answering his own question. “Yeah. All right! What’s say we get you set up in your new space, hm? You should try to get some sleep, Fe, really. You look like shit.”

(They certainly felt like it.)

#self para #good intentions #wickedswriting #emotional abuse tw #domestic abuse tw

[sharkrightsactivist]

hello everyone! Thought id share how to say goodbye in russian since i could think of a few ways, here they are ranging fron most to least casual!

Покá - opposite of привéт, super casual and means "bye"! you would normally say this to a friend, close family member or someone younger than you. i can't think of the origin but the word has a second meaning, which is "for now/while".

До скóрого - (lit. until soon), somewhere between пока and до встречи in terms of formality, but meaning is closest to the next point.

До встрéчи - literally translates to "until (our next) meeting", a bit more formal than покá, but unlike it clearly implies that you will meet the person again at some point later, so id say its closer "See you" / "Until next time".

There is also a second version, "До нóвых встреч" (lit. until new meetings, meaning is the same, ive heard it used most often on tv programmes and when adressing an audience) and a more 'urgent' version: До скóрых встреч (Until our next meetings [which will happen soon]).

До свидáния - same literal meaning as до встречи but does not necessarily imply youre going to see the person again. Im not sure about the origins of this one but it likely has to do with the somewhat obsolete verb свúдиться - to meet/encounter someone, lit. to see each other.

Всегó дóброго/хорóшего - lit. means "(I wish you) All the best." You can use this when leaving a work meeting, finishing a phone call respectfully or with a customer. It can be used outside of professional situations but from my experience that's less common. Here, дóброе is used in its second meaning (first being "kind/pleasant [person]"), which is "good/nice".

Прощáй(те) - means farewell. a permanent goodbye, you will likely never see the people you say this to again. Прощай is the slightly more casual version while прощайте is more formal or refers to a group. Interesting fact: it wasnt formed from простúть (to forgive) but instead простúться (to bid farewell). the second word is also somewhat obsolete.

hope this was interesting! let me know what topics youd like me to talk about next and ask questions if you have them!

#i couldn't wait anymore lol #russian langblr #russian language #langblr #russian vocab #russian vocabulary #idk what else to tag this as help #he was forced to use latin letters to show stressed vowels in cyrillic when he was 16 years old /ref