#i just am going to have to find a really patient tailor

[familyvideostevie]

october twenty-sixth

day twenty-six: remus lupin you’ve been on three dates without a kiss. will today change that? | first kiss, early relationship, fluff | 1k

Three dates and Remus hasn’t kissed you.

Though your friends insist otherwise, you can’t help but wonder if there is something wrong with you.

He’s respectful, they tell you. He’s shy! You want to believe it. He’ll kiss you today.

God, you hope so.

Obviously, you could kiss him, but something in your gut tells you to let him make the move. It’s hard to resist though, as Remus is very kissable. He’s handsome in a way you don’t know how to describe. The scars on his face make him seem a bit severe but it’s cancelled out when you see the soft kindness of his eyes. He looks like someone who would give you directions in the middle of a rainstorm. He fills out his sweaters like they were tailor-made for him and his hands are huge.

And he’s tall, which you’re never opposed to.

And he likes to touch you. This is the main reason you haven’t given up hope on the kiss.

On your first date — a long afternoon of conversation at a coffee shop — he’d put his hand on your back on the way in and out, helped you take your coat off and held it out for you to put back on, and gave you a very lovely hug when you parted ways. On your second date he’d linked arms with you as you walked through a museum and held your hand when it got a little crowded.

He definetly likes you. Right?

Date three finds you at a bookshop. You’ve actually planned to go to a pub quiz down the road but you got the timing wrong and it doesn’t start for an hour, so you’re killing time.

There aren’t that many people milling around the stacks. Remus squeezes your hand and leaves you to browse on his own, which you appreciate. It can be kind of overwhelming to be under his gaze all the time, you’re learning. Maybe it’s just the force of your fancy, which is a bit outrageous after only three dates. You find yourself imagining him in your life — a couples Halloween costume, a fall weekend away, holiday parties and on New Year’s Eve.

Remus just makes it easy. He’s so…lovely.

So how can you get him to kiss you? It’s far too early for mistletoe. The bookstore is instead decorated with leaves and skulls and pumpkins. Maybe you’ll float the idea of a Halloween party, use some liquid courage to kiss him.

“Are you going to get anything?” Remus’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. He looks at you patiently.

“Oh,” you say. “Not sure, actually.”

He hums. “I think I’m going to grab this.” He holds up a book you’ve heard of but not read. “If it’s good I’ll pass it along to you. You sure I can’t get you anything?”

Of course he’s offering, of course he’s ready and willing to share with you. He’s infuriating. “No,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, though.”

He squeezes your hand. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

True to his word, which you are learning he tends to be, he’s back quickly, grabbing your hand once more and leading you back out into the cool evening. “Is there going to be food at this quiz?” he asks. “I’m peckish.”

“’Course there is,” you say. “I’m not taking you to a pub without food, Remus. I’m not that bad of a date.”

He laughs. It’s quickly becoming one of your favorite sounds. “I’d never think that. I hope you don’t expect us to win, though, because I’m hopeless at these.”

You scoff. “I don’t believe you.” Remus is very smart and very modest about it.

“No, I really am!” he says. “I know useless things only. You’ll have to come to one with me and James and Sirius —” you know them as his best friends based on how he talks about them “— because they get really into it. I know you’ll being them to victory where I always drag them down.”

“You don’t know that I’m good at pub quizzes, Remus.”

His eyes twinkle under the streetlights. “I’ve got a hunch.”

He wants you to meet his friends. The thought warms you.

The light on the crosswalk changes and you stand, hands clasped, waiting.

Fuck it. You’re going to do it. You’re going to kiss him. You take a breath and turn to him, lean in before you can second guess yourself —

Remus turns his head to say something and your foreheads smack together.

“Oh my god,” you say, rearing back. “Oh my god, I’m so —”

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand on his own forehead. “What just happened?”

He releases his grip on your fingers to gently grab the back of your head, tilting your face this way and that as if he’ll find a wound.

You flop your face onto his shoulder. “Please, leave me to die of embarrassment,” you mumble.

“Never,” he says. “Really, darling. Are you alright? Didn’t hit you too hard?” His tenderness is making your stomach do something funny. Darling, darling, darling.

“No, Remus,” you sigh. You pull back to look at him. He really does look concerned, bless him. “I’m fine. I was trying to kiss you.”

“Oh,” he says, looking slightly surprised. “Sorry, I suppose. That’s my fault.”

“Yes,” you grumble. “It is, considering you haven’t kissed me yet, which is why I was trying in the first place.”

Your embarrassment is making you brave.

His eyes light up again. “Do you want me to?” His tone is slightly teasing.

“Remus!” He laughs and cradles your face in his warm hands. This man always has warm hands even when it’s cold out.

“Alright, alright, let’s try this again, hm?”

He leans in slowly. Your eyes flutter shut. When he kisses you it’s a light press of his lips at first and then a firmer pressure as he slots your mouths together properly. You let him do the work and you sigh into it until he pulls away

Your foreheads press together gently this time. “Let’s try to avoid any more injuries, alright?”

You smack his chest. He laughs.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fluff #marauders fanfiction

[mynameis-noe-body]

Can you do a marquis one shot where the reader works as a tailor/assistant/spy for the marquis but they’re also really innocent/upbeat . As he gets to know the reader, he finds himself going from confused that they’re so cheery to loving them as they are to corruption kink?

Thank you for your patient, anon. 🖤 I hope you'll love this.

This add to a second request I recieved.

➡️ Also cause I saw you mentioned a corruption kink, one with the marquis de framing would be fantastic 🥹❤️❤️❤️❤️

I didn't quite understand, but here is corruption kink fo you. I hope you'll love this as well.

Little dove

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

“Oh, Marquis De Gramont — what a pleasure to have you here!” you exclaimed, seeing him enter your shop. You walked towards him, holding the door open and showing him your best smile. “I just got an absolutely cheeky outfit that you will love, exactly your size.”

Vincent smiled. By now he had gotten into the habit of frequenting your shop at least once a week. He didn't lack money, nor time; he loved spending a few hours on a Saturday afternoon exploring the embellished and sumptuous dresses in your shop. And most of all, he loved spending time with you.

So joyful, friendly, sweet — a little macaron. Such a lovely pastry. You were an extraordinary creature, in his eyes. He, who had seen so much death, who had held so much power—he looked at you and found such innocence in your gaze. It was a part of you that was impossible not to love.

He cleared his throat, with a wave of his hand he ordered his second to leave the shop, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of you alone. That was his moment of pleasure.

The first time he entered your shop, fascinated by the silk garments and elegant suits, the shiny patent leather shoes and the cashmere coats, Vincent believed that he would find the usual snooty shopkeeper who would try to raise the prices by realizing his status. But no, you were there. So excited to be able to show off your best suits and dress him up like a fucking prince. Vincent had to call two of his men and a second car to be able to load everything he had purchased and take it home. You had shaken his hand, you had thanked him, you had given him a discount (even!) and you had suggested that he come back soon; you would have been happy to have such a passionate customer in your shop. Vincent might have believed it was a matter of money... but upon returning, noticing the way your gaze lit up when it met his, he changed his mind. You had fun with him. You loved your job. You were excited, happy… innocent. So pure. A sweet, little pastry, in fact.

Once, arranging the collar of his shirt while he was looking at himself in the mirror, you had asked him with a certain veiled embarrassment: “Monsieur De Gramont, forgive my impudence, but I really want to ask. What is your occupation?”

He had laughed. “Are you asking me about my job?” You had blushed, you had apologized stepping back but he had turned around, taking your hand before you could move away. "No need to be embarrassed, cheri. I find your curiosity quite... charming." Your cheeks were colored the sweetest red. He had lifted your hand to his lips, leaving the ghost of a kiss on your fingers. "I am a businessman. Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont, at your service."

He had been absolutely lovely. And he, from that moment on, had wanted in the most perverse, craziest, most intense way, to ruin you completely.

Vincent had noticed the way you watched him, so constantly attentive to every curve of his body, the way his muscles filled your clothes, stretching the fabric, wrapping it in the most attractive way. Your intoxicating gaze devoured him, and he was dying to have your hands on him, your desperate eyes, your mouth praying for his benevolence. So submissive, and desperate. Corrupted by your own will, by the desire and pleasure that only he could have brought you.

That day, without exception, you stood behind him while he looked at himself in the mirror and admired himself. But soon, his blue eyes met yours in the reflection. He smiled.

“What do you think, my dear?”

You nodded, your face bright. “That shade of red is definitely your color.”

His eyebrow rose in mock surprise. He caressed the fabric of the jacket with his fingertips, but secretly watched the way your gaze only followed his touch. Bewitching, indeed.

“I like the jacket. I love it. This scarlet is... fiery. Don't you think?” Your eyes flickered up again, and you nodded without adding anything, attempting a shy smile. "And the pants? Do I wear them well?" It was impossible not to notice the way you blushed and swallowed slowly. He bit back a satisfied grin. With his hands on the belt, he gripped it, lifting it a little. “Look at me.”

He nodded. “Maybe I should sit down, and try to feel them.”

And you looked at him. He had them so tight — you could see everything. All of it. You had to fight against your instincts and force yourself to seek his eyes again. You smiled. “I think they are perfect, monsieur.”

Vincent sat gracefully in the armchair next to him, and sighed. There was nothing innocent about his smile. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, he spread his legs. His right hand, on his thigh, went up his leg, stopped right there, so close to his —

“Sweetheart” he interrupted you, laughing loudly. You turned your eyes, deeply embarrassed and red in the face, but he seemed almost happy with your obvious reaction. “Oh, don't get all shy now, my dear.” He made himself more comfortable in the armchair, spreading his legs in an almost vulgar, cheeky way. God, he loved that game. “Come on, look at me. I know you like it. I see you — the way you look at me — and I bet you're not as fragile and innocent as you want me to think, are you?”

Now you looked at him, with your mouth slightly open and your eyes large, wide and full of bewilderment, your cheeks scarlet, your voice trembling as you stammered an apology.

He shook his head, and his face darkened. “No. I will not accept your apology” he hissed. He raised his finger and motioned for you to come closer. “Come here, little dove.”

He wanted you to stand between his open legs, and immediately his left hand grabbed your hip, while with his right he was already unbuttoning his trousers. He licked his lips like a lion at his delicious meal, hungry, ravenous. “Keep looking at me, don't look away, I know you like it” he said.

And look at you, completely disarmed, dominated by that crazy and irrational desire that he wasn't offering to satisfy, on the contrary, it was fomenting your obsession. He was a fascinating man. And a very passionate one, from what you could see. Without any shame he pulled his hard length out of his trousers, stroking himself slowly, showing you all his virility, his silky skin, his intense hardness. He was perfect.

“And I thought you were so pure, innocent” he whispered, with a certain satisfaction. "But now I see how wrong I was, you little pervert. You like watching me, don't you? Ma petite voyeur."

But his hand suddenly slipped between your legs, he lifted your skirt without shame, found your panties already so wet for him and smiled — he smiled, the bastard.

“I — oh, Marquis, I'm mortified. I didn't mean to —”

“Don't you dare apologize again. I want to hear other sounds from your mouth.”

And his fingertips pressed against the little knot of nerves, right there, causing a vibration of pleasure throughout your body. If you were honest, that exposure and embarrassment only inflated your excitement.

“You're already shaking for me.” His voice was deep, controlled. “Tell me anything you want. I want to hear you pray. I know you can. Tell me, and I will satisfy your every curiosity.”

You breathed, your sigh became labored, panting. “Please, Marquis, I...”

He laughed. His hand continued to touch his member, so hard, up and down, and you could do nothing but watch as your intimacy became wet and your hunger grew without rest. "You what, my dear? Do you want me? Is that it? Do you want my hand, my mouth?"

You nodded.

“No — no, love. Tell me.”

You swallowed, searching for a small voice in your chest. "I want you."

“What do you want?”

"All of you!" his fingers moved the panties, you finally felt his touch on you. And, hungrily, they sought the little wet hole between your soft lips. You could hear the sticky sound of your arousal on his fingers.

“Again, tell me more.”

“Your fingers, they're so — oh, oh please. Inside!”

He licked his lips. “What a good girl. You know your manners. But I don't want you so innocent darling, we know how dirty you really are, don't we?”

You shook your head, but you couldn't deny the truth to yourself.

“Tell me you're mine, tell me how much you want me.”

On the verge of tears, humiliated and excited, you nodded. “I'm yours, all yours. I — I want you so bad.”

His fingers slipped inside you, sweet and intense, touching all those perfect spots that made you moan all your pleasure. And you closed your eyes, for a moment. He stopped.

“Nu-uh, eyes on me. You like to watch. Tell me you like it.”

Yes, yes. “I love it. You are...”

“What? Don't be afraid. I want to hear everything.”

“Perfect. Your body, your...”

Oh, you were still so embarrassed. No, he wanted more. Vincent stood up suddenly, mistreated you hard, pushing you onto the chair. So, still dressed, he knelt over you, tickling your pussy lips with the head of his hard cock. You were dying of pleasure, and you looked at him excited and scared at the same time.

“I know you want it — say it. Tell me you're my little slut, tell me you want my hard cock inside you. Say it!”

And you cried, pleading. “I'm everything you want! Your whore, your tight cunt, your little slut — just give it to me, fuck me hard, now!”

And Vincent finally obeyed.

He fucked you, hard and deep, with an unprecedented ardor, grabbing your hair, your neck, biting your lips, spitting on your tongue.

“More, use me!” you begged. "Yours, only yours! I love it! Fuck my cunt — my ass. Yes, spit on my tongue, and fuck me like you mean it!”

“Dirty, dirty girl” he growled. His fingers dug into your thighs. "I knew you were a slut underneath, all mine. My little voyeur, my bad, dirty girl. That's it, take it, take it all!”

The contractions of your orgasm milked his cock, every drop of his come inside you. And you panted his name, and every dirty thing, now corrupted by that pleasure and prey to a will stronger than you. Your every word was honey. He came inside you, on top of you, making you dirty inside and out.

And looking at you like this, ruined for him, Vincent understood that you were no longer the innocent, sweet girl he thought he had met the first time.

#marquis de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont #vincent bisset de gramont #vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #smut

[sesamestreep]

Matt/Foggy, 36

From this Spotify Wrapped Prompt Game: #36. Made You Look - Meghan Trainor (🫣 I am not immune to a viral tiktok audio earworm…)

“Are you capable of exercising any self-control at all?” Foggy asks, voice dripping with annoyance as it carries across the room.

“I—” Matt pauses, as he tries to figure out the right response to that question. “I’m literally just sitting here,” he finally offers, weakly, because it definitely sounds like he’s in trouble, he’s just not sure why.

“I know that,” Foggy says, coming back to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m talking about what happened last night.”

“I was under the impression that you enjoyed what happened last night.”

“Matt…”

“In fact, I distinctly remember asking if you were enjoying yourself and you said—”

“You don’t need to quote me,” Foggy says, evidently excited or embarrassed by the memory—or both. “I remember.”

“Well, then, I’m confused by your sudden change of heart.”

“Not a change of heart,” Foggy clarifies and Matt is very often thankful that Foggy can’t hear his heartbeat and now is one such moment, because the way it immediately calms down from relief is genuinely a little embarrassing and he’s glad no one else has to know about it. “Just confronting the very frustrating reality that I’m going to have to do the walk of shame in a shirt open to my navel because someone tore half the buttons off of it in his haste to get me undressed. Again.”

Matt shrugs, very deliberately casual now that he knows this isn’t a real argument. “It felt like an urgent matter at the time.”

“Matt, I don’t even know where any of the buttons ended up!”

“Thank God. It’d be really embarrassing if you’d had the presence of mind to keep track of that while I was…well, you know.”

“I don’t know why you can’t just unbutton my shirt patiently like a grownup,” Foggy complains, which is the exact opposite of what he was doing last night, but Matt doesn’t bring that up.

“I don’t know why you insist on wearing those fancy suits with like eighteen layers I have to go through,” Matt says, instead. “Getting you naked is like breaking into a Swiss bank.”

“They’re three piece suits, you infant,” Foggy retorts, laughing. “And I’ve been told by everyone on Earth except you that I look great in them.”

“I’m sure you do. But for my purposes, they’re a nuisance.”

“You’re a philistine, Matthew. And I’m going to tell Luke that you don’t appreciate well made clothing and get you on his bad side for all eternity.”

“Please don’t,” Matt says, grabbing Foggy’s wrist like he might go for his phone right away. The downside of meeting Luke through Foggy is that he always has this extremely viable threat in his back pocket. “You have no idea how hard it is to find a good tailor these days.”

“Oh, I’m intimately aware,” Foggy cries, and there’s a shuffling noise as he (Matt’s guessing) shakes his injured shirt at him. “And speaking of Luke, you can’t claim my clothes are a nuisance to get out of when you run around in your leather daddy body armor all the time. There’s just no comparison!”

Matt doesn’t point out that he rarely shows up to see Foggy in the suit because it usually ends in them arguing rather than fucking—or, at least, arguing for a while before they get around to fucking. That’s not going to win him any points at the moment, he imagines.

“Leather daddy?” he asks, incredulously, instead.

“God, shut up,” Foggy says, still embarrassed and excited about it.

Matt takes the shirt out of Foggy’s hands, gently, and then, not so gently, shucks it to the other side of the room. “Maybe I just like who you are under your clothes more,” he says, carefully. “Did you ever think of that?”

“You’re so full of shit,” Foggy says, and, Matt’s not really sure how, but his voice fully gives away that he’s blushing.

“You could borrow something of mine…”

Foggy snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think you have anything in my size here, sweetheart.”

Matt lets his hand trail up Foggy’s side. “Oh, well. Hot guy in a tight t-shirt. What a sad fate for all of us to endure.”

“That gimmick only works when it’s guys like you. On me, it’ll just look delusional.”

Matt frowns, not liking the sound of that one bit. He slips his hand around the back of Foggy’s neck and pulls him close until their foreheads are pressed together, relieved by how easily Foggy complies despite his purported annoyance.

“Then it looks like your only option is to stay here forever,” Matt says, solemnly. “Completely naked, of course.”

“Of course,” Foggy says, laughing softly. “It’s the only plan that makes sense.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Matt replies, leaning in to kiss him. He conveniently doesn’t mention that he has one sweater, three sweatshirts, and no less than five t-shirts that he’s stolen from Foggy that he could just as easily return to him and solve his current predicament. He likes his solution better.

#WHATEVER #I know it was a huge pop song this year but this is genuinely a tune okay??? #meghan trainor knows what she’s doing!! #prompt fill #spotify wrapped fic prompts #prompt game #ask game #WHAT DO I TAG THESE AS??? #URGHHGGGG #anyway #mattfoggy #daredevil #matt murdock #foggy nelson #ask #firstelevens #homelywenchsociety #that’s my writing tag! don’t worry about it! #[chanting softly to myself] finished is better than perfect! finished is better than perfect!

[captainofthetidesbreath]

Can I ask why you like Chet? He’s a character I’ve struggled with and would like the perspective of someone with a positive take. this is not intended sarcastically nor as bad faith question.

This took a while, and it ended up as a very long post. This isn't even everything that draws me to him, just a bunch of things I could think of before I decided I was taking too long to get back to you on this. So, all the elaboration is under the cut.

But, the short of it is that Chet is extremely funny to me, I am generally drawn to the themes that Travis repeatedly explores that are present also in Chet, I am super into Chet being someone as old as he is (which is really uncommon in these games and stories), I'm fascinated by the contradictions Chet has, and I enjoy the specific craftwork approach of Travis' characters.

Also, I like werewolves.

He's funny as hell. That sounds like a joke answer, but that's genuinely a significant point. Chetney is extremely funny, and Travis' comedic timing in the way Chet talks, his diction, and just the shit he says amuses me greatly.

In more serious quarters, I think there's something incredibly compelling about a character who has seen so much of life already finding themselves in radically new circumstances and is set off on an adventure. Chetney has lived an entire life, lived long enough for multiple entire lives, but there's still enough room for something wild to happen to him. I enjoyed this in Fjord too, who has lived enough of life to be settled into a routine and to start thinking that he understood what the rest of his life looked like. Chet is at an extreme of that in that he's, well, elderly. I'm drawn to the idea that life still HAPPENS to him and, despite his age, he is going to have to adjust to his new circumstances. It's fascinating to me always to watch characters who have already settled into their lives deal with things being upended.

I am always interested in a lot of explorations of control, violence, agency, power, domineering others, and impulses as something both dangerous and freeing that runs through Travis' characters. I'm as fascinated with this as a theme as he is. Since this post is very long, I'll just say that I trust Travis is exploring a theme here about self-control and potentially losing yourself to the decadent and dangerous freedoms of newly acquired power and agency. The Tuyen scene is amazing, particularly "There was a time years ago where I would've just sat by my lonesome and hated you from afar, but there's a different side of me now, and he wants to hunt", and I look forward to seeing more of this.

I do also love the adjacent thing about power that frees you and gives you agency and is something that you enjoy is also something terrifying to you and you must grapple with that danger, liability, threat to yourself. We saw this with Fjord and his warlock pact, and we're seeing beginnings of it with Chetney and lycanthropy. The lycanthropy is both something that Chet enjoys and finds freeing, but he is also quickly realizing that it can be horrific, that it is known as a curse for good reason.

I think that Chet has been both not giving a shit about how others perceive him (too old to care) and carefully tailoring how he appears to others. He clearly cares very deeply and is extremely kind, but he seems to prefer others think him as ornery and standoffish. He also appears to feel a type of way about suddenly finding himself always on the outside of things but he also seems to reflexively frighten the others off to arm's length. He likes to present as impulsive and scattershot, but he is among the more deliberate and patient of the group. There's a fascinating series of contradictions here that Chet feels cognizant of and is deliberate about that I am always drawn to, and I'm curious to see how it'll pan out. I just love so much this kind of thing.

I feel like Chet is not as secure as he presents himself to be and is actually feeling very anxious about his current position in life. I love a good false bravado, and I can't wait to see that resolve itself.

From a craft perspective, I think it's fascinating to adapt a character concept across contexts. Chetney and Chutney are separate and different characters, but there is very much a shared core here. I think taking that and adapting it across not only settings but lengths of the work and goals has been a fascinating exercise overall, particularly in areas of what is worth keeping and what is radically changed and what to find analogues for and how Chetney has developed apart from that. I think it's highlighted Travis' skill in character crafting, and I enjoy seeing this continuing to develop.

I do have to admit there is a fair amount here in that I like Travis' approach to building and playing a character. I like that his characters are A Lot in the way that reminds me of this TikTok. Just the way that this guy pulls out that stuff and starts making a balloon animal, I think Travis' characters tend to be very much like that. I feel Travis builds characters in a way that makes them not feel thoroughly cohesive, which is not a dig at all. The individual elements of his characters don't feel like they're aiming for total unity and cohesion and harmony, and that creates a character with unexpected qualities or skills that give them a lot of depth or vibrancy in the same way that real people are grab bags of unexpected (sometimes contradictory) experiences and skills and traits. Chet is very much an example of this. An elderly werewolf who is a toymaker and a thief, that's a lot in a way that I enjoy out of Travis' characters.

Also, I like werewolves as much as Travis does, and I think someone who is both a werewolf and very small is hilarious.

#Critical Role #Critical Role things #Chetney Pock O'Pea #cr meta

[juriyuna]

If you're still doing them, how about top 5 MagiReco OTPs/NOTPs

Ah, it's hard to choose just 5 for the top of my list...! There are a number of ships I really like; I feel like I'm excluding some of my favorite children, haha. These are the ones I think about the most often, though.

5. Urara/Kurara: There's something really sweet about how Urara has seen Kurara at her worst and still loves her unconditionally. ;; On Kurara's end, it's more bittersweet-- she's painfully aware of how much Urara adores her in spite of how nasty and temperamental she can be, and it rips her apart inside because she doesn't feel like she deserves to be loved like that. I will withhold the "kurara loves urara too" essay for now for brevity's sake, but MAN Kurara loves Urara too!! She loves her so much that it's tearing both of them down!!!! RRAAAAGGGHFGDH it's too good......

I find it so cute that Urara refuses to give up on Kurara, even after they had such an ugly breakup. She knows that she messed things up by accidentally being insensitive, but she also knows that Kurara has issues of her own that she needs to sort out. In Urara's Kagome interview, she's like, sure, maybe things are bad right now... but people can change with time, you know? Maybe in a few years, they'll have grown enough emotionally that they'll be ready to make amends and give it another shot. I'm rooting for you, world's most patient clown. o7

Urakura can cover every base from fluff (remember, they used to be best friends!) to angst to hurt/comfort, making it very versatile and engaging to me. Combine that with the trope of "I love you no matter what, and I'll be here for you even on your worst days" (my weakness), and I never stood a chance.

4. Hikaru/Ao: My first Arc 2 ship, and still one of my favorites today! I remember seeing cute fanart for it way back when I first started playing the NA server and being super excited for the game to get to Crimson Resolve so I could learn more about them. :') While NA may have died before then, I am infinitely grateful that fan-translations mean I got to see these two anyway! (thank you hebinomiya and MUT for my life)

To explain a bit about why I like them, hm... They've got a nice dynamic in general! It's on the fluffier side without being bland, I think. Ao is playful in a way that feels a bit distant at first, but slowly opens up and starts to trust Hikaru more (a big milestone for how traumatized Ao is), while Hikaru gets a hit or miss crash course in Making Her Own Decisions. It's also interesting to contrast their individual ways of distancing themselves from their suffering (Ao trying to treat life like a game; Hikaru leaning hard into her role of "the Horse"), especially since they've both criticized the other for... doing almost exactly what they're doing themselves.

The way Hikaru tries to comfort Ao when she's scared or sad is cute, even if she doesn't know how to go about it. While Hikaru is largely numb to having to kill people at this point (wow, that's not depressing at all), she knows Ao isn't, and she gets worried when it seems like Ao is in over her head. Hikaru was the first person to worry about Ao after she accidentally killed Ryou, and when Ao seemed out of sorts in her MSS, Hikaru was the first person to seek her out. It plays nicely with Hikaru's struggle with agency as well-- she wants to help Ao, but she doesn't know where to start because she lacks experience and the ability to think for herself; she's caught between her personal desires (supporting a friend) vs. her duty to Promised Blood's goals; things like that.

As an added bonus, their designs compliment each other very nicely. Blue and orange is a solid combo. :> (And for one minor thing, I love that Ao has a swimsuit line where she's self-conscious about being a little pudgy, and then Hikaru has a swimsuit line where she says she thinks Ao is really cute. Tsuchinoko Real)

3. San/Miyuri: f4 could not have tailored a ship more closely to my interests if they tried. It's a little embarrassing... listen, you can't have san say "when she loses consciousness, she becomes my doll" and not expect me to think there's something going on These two pushed Neo-Magius from "kinda neat" to being my second-favorite faction. They're perfect as individual characters, and even better together; I adore the way they play off of each other. The way they want the best for the other and try to nudge each other towards success, even if that means enabling unhealthy thought patterns or behaviors and inadvertently strangling the other's personal growth, is fantastic.

And, of course, the lighter parts of their dynamic are just as good!! It's readily obvious how much Miyu loves San, but San loves Miyu too; she's just more subdued about showing people she cares for them. I think sometimes people forget how sad San was when Miyu started avoiding her out of guilt-- while it might not have been the same type of instant affection that Miyu felt towards San (at least until she saw Miyu dancing by herself and blushed over how pretty she was), San had very quickly gotten attached to Miyu as her baby, and was devastated to think that she might've lost her so soon.

They're more alike than they seem at first glance, and I think that's part of what makes their bond so strong-- San sees her old self in Miyu, and wants to watch her improve; Miyu sees herself in who San used to be, and admires that someone so timid can grow up to be so outwardly brave and capable. The whole thing is so sweet to me... ;;

... I might also mention that my headcanons for them help boost this up on my list, aha. I picture San as being very tall and broad-shouldered, and Miyu as a tiny little thing who could blow away in a strong breeze, which makes for a cute contrast. :')

2. Juri/Yuna: Oh man, where do I start? Everything about this ship is just perfect to me. I don't care whether they're friends, enemies, lovers, or what as long as they're together; their dynamic is flawless in every way. I'm stoked that they finally got a dual unit! ;_;

I am SO weak for the way Yuna cares about Juri. The gang wars could've been solved or prevented if Yuna had killed Juri before the situation got too bad, but she didn't want to do that. Yuna was so determined to leave Juri alive that she orchestrated that whole big fight in the first half of CR specifically to bring Juri down without killing her. It's not something that Yuna is proud of, but the fact that she manipulated a bunch of other girls (which unfortunately resulted in some casualties) because she loved this one particular loose cannon too much to kill her... man. Devotion.

Yuna is incredibly patient and understanding with Juri in general, which is extra cute to me because almost nobody else is. She knows Juri isn't a bad person, just struggling with mental illness and shitty circumstances, and no matter how Juri feels about herself, Yuna still loves her and wants her around. Not for her strength or holding Ryuugasaki together, but because Yuna cares for her as a friend. It's so... [clenches fist] AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

It's readily apparent how much this acceptance means to Juri, too. She used to rely heavily on Yuna for venting her stress since not only could Yuna go toe-to-toe with her in a fight (and willingly does so), she doesn't resent or demonize Juri for being the way she is. Even when Juri was hellbent on defeating Yuna in CR, she's greatly upset when she thinks that she might've actually killed her (or in the bad end where Juri does kill Yuna). For all of the animosity they held towards each other, they need each other; they don't honestly want the other to die. (Not alone, at least-- the scene where Yuna stops Juri from killing herself has an undercurrent of "how dare you try to leave without me", given that Yuna was also suicidal at the time.)

I am, as you can tell from this list, very weak for ride-or-die loyalty (or dubiously healthy attachment; take your pick), and juriyuna delivers that in spades, with all of the dressings and extras I like. Yuna's refined, serious, thoughtful personality and Juri's rowdy, aggressive, playful personality bounce off of each other in ways that are always enjoyable to see, whether it's something heavier like CR or fluffy like the Please, Yuna-san event. Top quality ship.

1. Bat/Ranka: "hmm, what if..." ← me haplessly coming up with an idea while reading CR for the first time 3 years ago, about to inflict an unbreakable curse upon myself

If I had to pick a number-one favorite ship in the series, it would be this. I am trapped in a hell of my own creation... We don't see much of their dynamic outside of CR or Ao's MSS (though Ranka does talk about the Bat elsewhere), and we've hardly gotten any of their relationship from the Bat's point of view, but that just means I can have a field day reading between the lines and piecing together a story from the scraps we do get. Enrichment!!

Ranka's "I need someone strong to follow or I'll die because I can't survive by myself" vs. the Bat's "I need someone prey on or I'll die because I can't survive by myself" is a great parallel that makes for a unique flavor of codependency. Sort of a "marionette and puppeteer" dynamic, I guess? Whatever you call it, it's 100% my brand; I go nuts for this stuff.

On Ranka's end, she knows that this relationship is unhealthy, but she keeps coming back anyway. Some of it is that she sees herself as too weak (physically and mentally) to make it on her own, so she clings to the Bat because being treated badly is better than being dead or alone. Some of it is probably that she sees herself as an awful person, and feels that she "deserves" to be hurt like this as punishment for how spineless she is (a feeling that compounds itself with every horrible thing the Bat makes her do).

It's a form of self-harm, in a way-- but even so, their relationship isn't always bad. The Bat liked Ranka enough to appoint her as her second-in-command, and for what it's worth, she did protect Ranka from the Futatsugi gang wars. She didn't take any issues with Ranka's abrasive, badmouthed personality, either! In fact, the Bat must've liked that about Ranka if she chose to keep her so close, haha. (And this is headcanon territory, but since Monzenbashi's base was an abandoned arcade, I have to figure that they shared an interest in old video games as well.)

In the end, Ranka is left in a thorny position where she hates what she has to go through, but can't bring herself to leave. After all, they have their good moments. The Bat loves her, probably. If she left, she'd be free from the abuse, but she'd lose the sense of safety and familiarity that the Bat gives her. That sort of struggle is super interesting to me-- I really like how this ship explores how loving and hating someone isn't necessarily a cut-and-dry thing.

On the Bat's end, while she does know that what she's doing is wrong, she adamantly believes that she needs to exploit others or she'll be the one to get exploited herself. She's a selfish coward who chews up the weak for personal gain and spits them out when she's through with them, viewing everyone else as either a threat to be disposed of or a tool to be used... and yet, despite all of this, she's shown to genuinely care for Ranka.

I am constantly thinking about the Ao-Ranka fight in CR where the Bat jumped to Ranka's defense, saying that she's going to kill Ao herself if Ranka is going to let herself get hurt like this. The Bat- the girl who gets a sick thrill out of torturing the helpless, who's too paranoid to trust anyone- loves Ranka enough that it made her angry to watch her get hurt. For as cruel and "save myself and fuck the rest" as she is, she has one person she wants to protect.

Something about the way the Bat wants to keep Ranka safe while also treating her like a pawn; hating the thought of losing her, but afraid of letting her get too close... fuckinf!!! Good Shit!!!!! Mix that in with Ranka's conflicting feelings about the Bat and I have a dumpster fire that will keep me warm for years.

I could be delusional (this ship is largely in my head), but it feels like a pretty realistic portrayal of an abusive relationship to me. There are all kinds of things to dig into here, from how it could get worse to how it could get better, and I just... auuuuggghhfhfh MAN im going to fling myself into the sun i love them so MUCH

(bottom 5 under the cut, both for negativity and because this is already super long)

If anyone's OTP is on this list, I apologize-- please know that none of these are a moral judgement or anything! 99% of my NOTPs are just ships I find annoying for one reason or another. It's nothing personal.

5. Rika/Ren: Truly the plain dry cornflakes of the magireco ship world. It's so Generic Yuri Manga that it manages to be frustrating in its lack of substance. I understand that it's one of the most popular ships (if not the most popular ship) in the fandom, but I'm gonna have to pass. :{

4. Ao/Ranka: Do you ever have a ship that bugs you, but you can't put your finger on why? This is one of those for me. Which is weird, because I am very much a multishipper when it comes to Promised Blood! And I adore the way that Ao and Ranka's relationship is written in canon! They have a really rich dynamic; I love watching them make that awkward, gradual shift from enemies to friends, where they clearly want to be closer but also don't quite know how to feel about each other. As a romantic ship, though... Eh. I've tried reading fics and stuff for them, but it's just not my thing.

3. Tsukuyo/Tsukasa/anyone: There isn't a single character who doesn't feel like a third wheel here. Sure, the twins might love her, but not as much as they love each other; she will always sort of be on the outside looking in. Tsukuyo and Tsukasa are so deeply, unshakeably intertwined that I don't even like shipping them monogamously with other characters (a singular exception being that I have a passive appreciation for Kanagi/Tsukasa), so adding a third girl to the mix is out of the question by default.

Yukika is probably the worst offender in terms of third wheel-ness because of her "Akatsuki-senpai" thing, but Amanes/Mifuyu wins the general awkwardness category by virtue of giving me the unfortunate impression of a mistress to a married couple. I tried reading various OT3 fics with the Amanes to see if I'd warm up to the idea, I did, but... it's regular amanecest or bust for me.

2. Kuroda/Asahi: it's not even about the abuse and general assholery on kuroda's end (heavy drama can be interesting with the right framework) it's that the idea of shipping asahi with a dude gives me hives

1. Himena/Hiko: het ship allergy strikes again, im sorry 😔 Sometimes I feel kinda dumb for this one because I know I'd probably like it if Hiko was a girl, but alas. Not only do I have negative interest in M/F, Hiko is the most boring self-insert-looking nerd guy they possibly could've designed. Ungh. (himena is a fun, fascinating character, i like her a lot, but the depths of my distaste mean that whenever a scene comes up where himena talks to/about hiko, i subconsciously overwrite it with "hiko is a girl" or "hiko is imaginary" to make it more palatable to me orz)

Plus the "unpopular boy gets bullied for dating popular girl" plotline feels super contrived to me-- while my experiences are obviously not universal, I usually find that unpopular guys get boosted up the social ladder if they manage to land a date with a popular girl. The whole "forbidden love" trope needs to be done in a very particular way in M/F ships in order for me to not find it stupid, and this one doesn't hit the mark.

... and this is a silly thing to be annoyed by, but it really does grate on me that whenever you ship Himena with a different character, there's an 85% chance that at least one person will come along like "what about hiko?" or "poor hiko" or "ot3 with hiko!" or whatever. Even if you specify that you've written Hiko out of Himena's head in some way or another (got his own body again, never existed in the first place, etc.), someone will make him the focal point regardless. It's happened to me, and it's happened to a few other people I've seen. :'| Frustrating to see an interesting comment on himesasha or w/e get derailed into "but himehiko!!", as if everything Needs to revolve around this one singular boy.

#sorry for taking forever to answer this ;; but here you go! #if i were to be completely honest #i probably would've squeaked in ''kanagi/that one black feather from her intro scene'' into top 5 #but that's so deep into canon/NPC territory that it's embarrassing to talk about #not because it's cringey or anything; it's just very personal because i've been cultivating it for almost 4 years now lmao #7 billion little WIP fic drafts/snippets/ideas that i may never finish but have fun playing with regardless #magia record #long post #hc post #asks #there are a lot of ships i dislike but most of them involve characters i don't care about #(or characters i dislike in general so it doesn't matter who they're shipped with; i'd hate it anyway) #so idk if they'd qualify as NOTPs

[kentopedia]

omg rylie Your newest fic made me weep a little, it was so fuzzy and soft ❤️❤️❤️

if you don’t mind, can you drop any writing tips? i struggle a lot with formulating ideas and making dialogue :<

if you don’t want to answer, no worries at all !! have a good weekend !!!

hi lovely!!! <3 thank you very much, i’m so happy to hear that! and omg omg of course!! i would love to share some tips, i am so honored you asked me o(≧◇≦)o

my number one tip is such a cliché, but it’s to write as much as you can! writing is just like any art, you’ll only get better & better with practice. and be patient with yourself! some days i write things that i don’t really like, and some days, i know i don’t feel up to it, so i won’t force myself to write just for the sake of it.

also, another basic tip, but something i struggle with a lot is comparing myself to others. the thing about art is everyone has a different voice & reading would be so boring if everyone’s writing sounded the same! so even if your writing isn’t just like your favorite writers’, it’s still valuable & beautiful because it’s a little part of yourself!! <;3

as for specifics! i formulate a lot of ideas from getting inspired by things around me & other media i’m consuming. some of my writing has been inspired by songs i love, some of them by books, etc. or just things that happen in my daily life! i think just getting in that mindset and thinking abt the world that way can be difficult, but so helpful to coming up with ideas!

when i really struggle with ideas, i usually take a step back & write small things like headcanons or short little drabbles about basic scenarios like first kisses or something! that way, i can get the creativity going, but i'm usually less worried about making those kinds of things perfect, opposed to my longer fics that are more fleshed out.

i’m so happy you asked about dialogue bc it is my favorite thing to write! i actually have a good tip for this. so whenever i write dialogue, i have that conversation in my head, like i’m speaking to that character, without worrying about any of the action that follows. that way you can see if it sounds natural or strange! i find that’s the easiest way to do it, as you’re just thinking ok, what would a normal person say to this kind of statement, how would they go about it? and then you’ve got a baseline that you can kind of tailor to the specific character or situation.

sometimes it helps if i write all the dialogue out first, and go back and add description and action later. that way, you can read it without any interruption. also, if dialogue sometimes feels clunky, it might not need to be changed! sometimes, i find that my writing just needs to be broken up by an action. it could literally a simple change like "hi. you look nice today." to "hi." he smiled. "you look nice today." and that can make all the difference!!

also, i know everyone says this, but reading actual books is such a valuable thing. it helps my writing soo much!! i'm not really sure why it is, but the more i read, the easier it becomes to write and come up with ideas!!

#i really hope this is helpful !! <33 #i’m always happy to answer any questions at all! #idk if it makes sense but let me know if it doesn't !! #i def didn't mean to go on and on!! #but i hope my little tips are valuable to you in some way nonnie!! sending you my love!! #໒꒱ rylie's angels

[spider-bren]

it's ain't the being alone | hanninthian (?)

Pairing: The Corinthian x Hannibal Lecter Tags: Cori POV, Therapy Sessions, Murder Talk Summary: The Corinthian goes to therapy with Hannibal Lecter.

The Corinthian was a Nightmare. The Nightmare. The creation, the perfect creation, of Dream of the Endless, Shaper of Forms. He was created to reflect that darkness of humanity, their temptations and desires, their most chilling dreams. Even Lord Morpheus could not look too long at his face. 

Over the centuries, Corinthian lurked in the dreams of humanity and there was only one that caught his attention. A dreamer that wasn’t quite human. A man by the name of Hannibal Lecter. His dreams were something juicy that the Corinthian wanted to sink his teeth into. The corridors of his mind dripped with blood, and the hallways were decorated with the trophies from those he killed…and ate. 

The Corinthian didn’t need to go into the dreams of this particular man to know that he already indulged in all life had to offer him. He consumed, he partook, he relished in life’s beautiful offerings. 

After his master and creator was imprisoned, with his help of course, he set out to find this man who intrigued him. Living in Baltimore, Maryland, The Corinthian found himself on the doorstep of the psychiatrist, Hannibal Lecter. He made an appointment with him (since he knew from his mind he would find showing up unannounced rude). And Hannibal found being in the company of rude people made him quite famished. 

The door opened and Hannibal greeted him with a practised smile. 

“Good evening, Mister Corinthian.” 

“Just Corinthian is fine. May I come in?” 

“Certainly. The hour is yours after all. Please take a seat.” 

The Corinthian sat opposite Hannibal and crossed his one leg over the other, mirroring the man. Hannibal took in his suit. Sharply pressed shirt and tailored jacket. Both in tones of cream. No doubt the psychiatrist was making all kinds of assumptions about him. 

“Would you like to take off your sunglasses? I prefer to look my patient’s in the eyes,” said Hannibal, ever so polite. 

“It’s kinda prescription based. I can’t concentrate without it. Light’s too bright. That sort of thing.” 

“I see. Well, I will just have to stare at your face then.” 

The Corinthian smiled in a way that caused men and women to fall to their knees. The kind that he knew broke down mortals walls and made them trust him. 

“Stare all you like, doctor.” 

“So,” Hannibal continued with the session, to the Corinthian’s amazement, unaffected by his charms. “What would you like to talk about?” 

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, thinking. He wasn’t here to talk. 

“Let’s start the basics, yes?” said Hannibal. “Where did you grow up?” 

“I didn’t really grow. I sort of just exist. I don’t change or age.” 

“You think of yourself as an immortal being? Incapable of change? Do you think you are lost in your existence?” 

Lost? No. No, thought the Corinthian. He knew who he was. He knew what he had been made for. It was why he sought Hannibal out. 

“My existence is irreverent. I was created for a purpose and I must carry out that purpose to the best of my ability.” 

“Or what?” 

The Corinthian paused. “Or what, what?” 

“What will happen if you don’t?” 

A chill ran down the Corinthian’s spine. There was only one thing a Nightmare feared. One thing that the Corinthian hated more than anything else. Oblivion. His master’s hand reached out to unmake him. His words sharper than his blade telling him how disappointed he was in him. How he was made wrong. 

No, no, please. I beg you!

He blinked. “Not really sure. I just know that I have to do what I was made to do.” 

“And what is that?” Hannibal tilted his head to the side, intrigued by this strange man in front of him. 

“I lean into my…baser instincts a lot more than most people. I don’t have any regrets, or fears, and I don’t repent. I am conscious of everything I do and I do it for the pleasure of it. Because I am made to enjoy it. I am made to be this way.” 

“Name a few,” asked Hannibal. 

The Corinthian chuckled. “Sex. Stalking. Predator/Prey play. The usual.” He grinned. “Murder.” 

Hannibal cocked his head. Pursing his lips as he clasped his hands in front of him. 

“You are protected by client privilege, I can’t repeat what we speak about here. You may speak freely.” 

“See, I knew you’d say that, doctor. You know how I know? Because now that you know I kill, you want to know why and how. You want to know more. You want to know how I use my knives to carve into their skin, to know I felt a throbbing artery underneath my fingertips and stopped someone’s heart. To know how I used the tip of my blade to pop out those juicy little eyes and … eat them.” 

Hannibal swallowed thickly and the Corinthian flared like a flame at his victory. Hannibal Lecter didn’t run away. He ran towards. In fact, the Corinthian was certain that he was turned on by this kind of talk. The Corinthian was an expert at knowing. Hannibal opened his mouth slightly and his eyes had glossed over. 

“You consume people?” 

“Just the eyes.” He shrugged. 

“You want to consume me?” 

A statement. Simple. Base. 

The Corinthian nodded. “In every way I can.” 

#the corinthian #the sandman #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #crackship #noone asked for this but i needed it #the corinthian x hannibal lecter #hannigram is still otp but this is fun to write #the corinthian will fuck anything

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

I hope I’m not asking anything too personal or over the line, but I’m just getting into the d/s life and don’t even know where to start, how did you find your dom? How did you get into this lifestyle?

Nothing is too personal, babe. I'm literally using Tumblr as my journal right now for this journey I'm on. If there is a question that I prefer not to answer, I'll say that. Now, that being said, my DMs are always open and my responses will be more tailored to what you want to know if we talk directly but if you're not comfortable I understand.

This got away from me so putting a read more.

I have only been actively looking for a Dom on fet for about 2 months. So, I'm not an expert by any means and I can only speak for myself.

My main advice can be broken into two parts:

1. Do your research so you know what you want (obviously you haven't tried everything but I'm not talking about individual kinks here, I'm talking overall) For me, I wanted a Dom with experience that was willing to be patient and go slow with me since I am very inexperienced. I wanted someone who was okay with waiting to fuck me because I wanted to get to know them/be comfortable first. I wanted someone who would include my wife in everything and make her feel welcome and wanted/respect our marriage.

(Obviously, there is implied stuff, like must not be a predator, must be clean, would prefer if he were taller than me, can't be a trump supporter etc etc. I live in the midwest, that last one is important lmao)

2. Do not compromise

When I first joined Fet I was overwhelmed with messages. As someone who has not been outwardly sexual until now it felt wonderful to have so much attention and there was a thrill in telling total strangers that you wanted someone to grab you by the hair and face fuck you. So fun and dirty, right? I quickly realized, do not respond to every message. Be picky. Be selective. If there isn't a vibe or you aren't excited to talk to someone YOU DONT HAVE TO. They can go get their rocks off somewhere else.

A cute guy messaged me last night. Said he had Dom experience but wanted to disclose he was married, no big deal so am I, buuuuuut she doesn't know he's on Fet. Sorry, pal. Next.

One guy said he was a Dom but his biggest fantasy was being tied up and used by two women. Uh...I don't...are you lying about one of these things? Also I don't want to do that for you. Next.

I have had someone ask me to piss on them while wearing stilettos. No thank you, please read my bio, I'm a sub. Next.

One guy started off great but quickly didn't respect my boundaries in the messages and scared me so badly I sobbed to my wife because it made me feel like I had done something wrong, or I deserved his words because I was a slutty submissive who doesn't know whats good for her and wants to be used--I essentially slut shamed myself. I blocked him, he made a second account....I deactivated my page for 3 days after that. But I calmed down and came back because like hell was that nobody going to ruin this for me.

This ask has gone on way too long but we have gone on some really shitty meet and greet coffee dates. Brush them off and move on. No harm, no foul. There are already four more lined up behind them, babe.

The guy who is currently UC as my dominant kinda fell in my lap. It is a very serendipitous story if yall wanna know sometime.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

#katryns sub adventures #i love all you babes and im making these posts for me but also for you because I know how badly i want to talk about it and share knowledge #and experiences so I can not be the only one #my ask and Dms are open loves

[flower-zombie-rob]

Is it ok to be disappointed about the project being a puzzle game instead of a 45 short film? (asking politely in anon because afraid of ppl being mad at me for having an opinion)

(also not mad about it at all)

I don't quite know why you're asking me, but I mean I think some people consider me some kind of Tumblr OG in this community, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.

Yes. I think it's completely fine to be disappointed when you're expecting a narrative piece and it wasn't quite what was teased(yet). I too am not really a fan of the whole interactive puzzle game thing just due to the fact that it's not really what I'm into. I love a narrative film and series and I love a dramatic bit of story, not really a bunch of slashes in the chat along with a bunch of random "up" "middle"s and "down"s.

That being said, I don't think I would give up on it so easily as you never know what might happen. We have no clue how long this live stream is going to be so feel free to do what I'm doing, which is sort of flitting in-and-out and checking on whether it's still a puzzle game that I don't want to really paticipate in or a video part, for example the interview bit. It's fine to be disappointed with it, but I wouldn't, for example, sum it all up to a dissapointment quite yet, considering we haven't seen much of it. It might just not really have narratively started yet or it might be having a strange structure that starts to hit you with everything it has in the third act.

Be patient, but don't feel guilty for disliking what's been put in front of you if it wasn't tailor-made for your viewing experience. You are allowed to have an opinion on a piece of work, no matter who made it or how hard they worked on it. And no one in this community should attack you for it so please feel free to find it disappointing if you do and feel free to voice that opinion. You are allowed to have that.

#jacksepticeye #@therealjacksepticeye #iris project #iris spoilers #jse spoilers #jacksepticeye project spoilers

[legends-of-time]

The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander)

Chapter 25: A New But Old Face

Masterlist

March 1770

Aunt Jocasta is demanding Brian and Ellen, now 7 months pregnant, attend some kind of party at River Run. They'd never been to an 18th century party, so Brian figures he should probably just go along with it. Make the best of it.

Murtagh has gone to Wilmington for business that he gave no more details on. But Brian knows it is to carry out a mission Da had given him; to find Stephen Bonnet.

Brian has been dressed exquisitely in a tailored, deep navy-blue suit with polished buttons. He'd never get used to the shoes though and just as bad as that, were the tall white socks that remind him of the compression socks worn by Mama's elderly patients to help with circulation.

Jocasta had pushed for Ellen to wear a new dress and instead of going for one that might cover her pregnancy, Brian's sister had decided to have her stomach boldly on display. He really loves his sister sometimes.

It's only when they arrive do they realise their Great Aunt's plan when Ellen is surrounded by different men and Brian with women. The women around him laugh and giggle at anything he says, earnestly agreeing with him. How has he thought Lizzie was bad? Brian finds himself wishing he'll be able to duck away into the kitchen and see if he can at least find Phaedra to talk to, so he can take a breath.

Finally, there is a lull in conversation long enough that he might get the chance, but just before he can, Brian hears his Aunt Jocasta's voice come from outside the room. "I would like to introduce you to someone, Lord John. Meet my nephew and my niece, Brian and Ellen Fraser."

Brian turns to see a gentleman following his Great Aunt. Lord John is a man of slight build and shorter-than-average height (about 5'6"), with thick dark hair and light blue eyes. Brian notes that unlike most of the men here, except for Brian, Lord John has declined to wear a wig and instead has his long hair bound back.

Immediately Brian feels like they could be great friends.

"It's good to make your acquaintance, Lord John." Brian greets.

"Yours as well." The man says. "I am friends of your mother and father. You both look very much like your father." Lord John swallows awkwardly causing Brian to frown

"How do you know our parents, Lord John?" Ellen asks, side-eyeing Brian.

As Lord John begins to speak, Jocasta pulls Brian away from other guests. Brian feels annoyed, hoping to stay with his sister and Lord John. He is forced into conversations with the men and women in attendance. One woman, Miss Forbes, keeps touching his forearm and laughing much too hard at things he says that aren't intended as jokes.

Brian has never felt so relieved as when Lord John sweeps up beside him to interrupt the attention of Miss Forbes. John turns to Miss Forbes rather than to him. "You're Miss Forbes, if I'm not mistaken?"

She nods. "Why yes, I am."

"I just wanted to inform you that there's a Mr. Whitley in the dining area and he was asking to speak with you."

"Oh." She says, not really paying attention to Lord John.

"It seemed urgent." Lord John adds.

Miss Forbes frowns, lets out a breath, but then bows to Brian. "We'll speak again."

"I'm sure." Brian replies, hoping he is wrong.

When Miss Forbes is out of sight, he and Lord John are left alone in the secluded corner of the study that Miss Forbes had cornered him into.

"There are quite a few available women here." Lord John says, lips tipped into an awkward smile.

"Yes." Brian smiles uneasily, finally ready to voice the concern that has been growing in him all evening. "I believe my aunt is attempting to make matches for me and my sister."

Lord John presses his lips together, his brow furrowing. "Do you think she..."

"What?"

"Do you..." Lord John's voice lowers to a whisper, "do you think she intends to leave you River Run and believes that if you have a wife and child maybe, you'd be less likely to turn down the offer?"

Brian is taken aback. "You really think she plans to offer me River Run."

"I shouldn't have mentioned it..." Lord John seems unsettled, though he'd seemed unsettled all night. "But I know she offered it your parents."

"Why did they turn it down?"

"From what your father said, they did not want to own slaves."

Brian let out a long breath, reality settling over him as he thought of Phaedra, Ulysses and the others. He has grown to consider some of them friends without considering they don't legally have a say in the matter of their friendship at all.

"I don't want to own slaves either."

"You may want to express that sentiment to your aunt before she starts measuring you for your wedding garments." Lord John gives him an unreadable smile, then walks away to join another conversation.

At dinner, Lord John had been seated in the group of single men that surrounds Ellen while Brian sits at the other end surrounded by the single women.

Later on in the evening, as Ellen plays her psychology game, Brian notices looks shared between Lord John and Judge Alderdyce. This combined with Ellen's comments about secrets, Brian realises what's going on.

——

September 1745

As John is led away, feeling the shame of revealing vital military information even if it was to save the English woman, when something catches his eye, a small boy, a toddler, staring at him wide eyed, as John is being carried away. He has red hair, and his eyes are strikingly familiar.

"Brian!" It's Red Jamie that yells, running over to the boy, casting a suspicious look at John. "Wha' yer doin', wonderin' off? I thought Fergus was watchin' ye." He scopes the boy up and strides off. The boy looks at John over Red Jamie's shoulder and John looks back until he can see them no more.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

#outlander

[babbushka]

,,

#Okay one more in the tags post before i pass out but lol #unique vintage released a grease collection and #among the garments they have rizzos dress #available in both “”””””standard””””” sizes and “”””plus””””” sizes #sorry lol i hate those terms #but the dilemma is the size i was planning to get is sold out straight away #So now im stuck between ordering the smaller size (which is my actual size according to the measurements) #or do i just get a size up and have it tailored lmao #this is mostly me rambling to you guys bc my friends are all asleep lmao #I’ll probably get the size up #i just am going to have to find a really patient tailor #lmaoo with all this stuff i keep buying the wrong size of 😂😭

[deepseavibez]

Nerve_21.5.1 || KNJ

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Nerve [Namjoon x Reader]

Prompt -@casnextdoor

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Part 21 || Ever-logical

Part 21.5.1 - Vibe Check

Part 21.5.2 - Tightrope

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Genre - cheating; aftermath; husband au;

Summary - You would never expect it really. He's doting. He's sweet. He's hardworking. But he's forgotten his morals. Suspecting it is one thing, but when he confirms it, will you stay or walk away.

Warning - Cheating(Aftermath);

Word Count - 4.4k

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

'Ohmygod! Look at these!'

You weakness for boots was showing. Especially the type of suede black ankle boots with tassels on the side, you currently gushed over. It didn't matter that your walk-in closet had over eight pairs of boots, you would buy it if you wanted it.

You picked up the shoe and checked the size. 'Hold up, Tae,' you called to your shopping buddy as he was walking out of the store, 'I have to try these on.'

Lunch was good with your favorite crackhead duo. They were still having their dating war, but it seemed that Jungkook was growing too attached to his prospect and Jin, although playful, gave him perks on how to properly woo his stylist.

Afterward, on your way out to find Namjoon in the Rkive, Taehyung intercepted you and proposed last minute shopping for anything you needed for the wedding. Jimin was busy with Jungkook who'd both decided to give talks to new trainees that were selected for the coming year. Year-end was a time to get orientation out of the way, so training could go on full force on return.

Either way, you did need a simple silver set to go with your Maid of Honor dress. You had a back-up. There was always a back-up. And sometimes a back-up for a back-up. Be it shoes or clothes or jewelry, it was a must in your lives.

He came to stand beside you, to take a look and then pulled it out of your hand.

'Hey!'

'These are knock offs.' He said it in a scolding tone and held it behind him, out of your reach.

'It's fine,' you reached behind him, only for him to step further away and hold you at arm's length with his free hand.

Exasperated, you blew a strand of hair out of your face and tapped an impatient tattoo with your heel.

'Tae, we can't have this argument every single time we go shopping.'

'We can,' he smoothed out the tassels on the shoe and placed it on its display, 'and we will.'

He didn't even give you time to argue before he placed a gentle hand on your arm and made you follow behind as he walked out of the store.

'It doesn't matter if it's a knock-off, I really like it. You know I have a weakness for boots,' you argued. 'And I'm not the idol here. I don't need to wear brand names.'

'Y/n,' he stopped at the edge of a fountain, a patient expression on his face, 'you are a part of our family. That means when you walk out of your house, you represent us.'

You scoffed. This was ridiculous. There was something completely annoying about buying branded clothes just because you had the money. And you did have the money. But why pay a hundred dollars for something you could easily get for twenty. You shook your head, not ready to budge, 'I don't have anything to prove, Taehyung, I don't need to use branded clothes.'

He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. 'Okay tell me then, why is that every one of your suits are tailor made to fit your body and almost every single one of your heels are Christian Louboutin.'

That was easy. 'Because that's work. I represent a brand at work. I am ten times more likely to get photographed or seen or have public meetings and so I have to look good.'

He nodded, 'You care about your image. But remember, you are also a part of ours. I know you buy your own clothes and you make the extra effort when it's concerts or photoshoots or press conferences.'

'Exactly and this is just for using around the dorm or for a grocery run or coffee. It shouldn't matter that much.'

'Y/n,' Taehyung, 'the band is well known. As much as we would like it to only be about music, it isn't. There's internal politics and financial gain involved. But that's out of our hands, because it's the studio that takes charge of that. But we, the band, need to represent, and that is our responsibility. Whether we have friends in every other group, or do shows together and collaborations, the focal group is ours, we first and foremost need to look the part.

I know I sound materialistic. And if it was up to me you could do anything you wanted and you can but only to a certain limit. And granted it will go down well with non-idols that you're using knockoffs, but it doesn't look good to other idols.'

It was a complicated concept in your mind, to explain, but you were actually carrying it out yourself. There was a reason your suits were immaculately ironed and set out, with matching jewelry, shoes and bag to match, you needed to own the boardrooms you visited and impress the clients or any other without actually looking like you needed to impress anyone. 'You're saying we need to have the upper hand, that we shouldn't look weak.'

The office and during working hours, that was your playing field and you had to look the part of the CEO, heir to y/l/n's Arem Architecture and Design. The world, had now become the band's playing field.

'Do you understand what I'm saying? It's not about proving we have money or that we're above everyone, it's like power play.' He reached out to link his arm around yours to start walking slowly again. 'You can get away with using normal clothes, non-branded, on sale when you're at home and in the dorm. I know it's annoying, but come on, you actually can afford a proper pair of legitimate boots.'

You voiced your earlier thoughts. 'Just because I can afford it doesn't mean I have to only buy brands.' You watched your steps line up. Left together, Right together.

'Well, the only time you'd use that boot is with a suit, formal pants or a bootleg jean. All of which will only be worn when going out in public.'

You thought about it and couldn't dispute it, but, 'I could pair it with my leather jacket.'

He smiled. 'You favorite leather jacket is Versace.'

Shit. He was right. 'Winter coat.'

'The only winter coat you would casually use is the Visvim grey bomber jacket from your husband's closet.'

'How the fuck do you remember it like that, jeez. To me it's just my favourite grey winter coat. And I just wanted a freaking boot.' You whined in frustration.

'Critics can sniff knock-offs the way reporters sniff out stories. You can't tell the difference. But an expert can.'

You sighed. 'People are stupid.'

'People are stupid,' he agreed.

You looked up as you passed one of Clandy's Cafe branches. You suddenly felt for coffee.

Swerving his body so he followed you, you walked toward the coffee shop and he fell in step with you again when he saw where you were headed.

'Besides,' he started, 'I already bought you a pair of boots.'

You stopped walking, halting his steps as well. 'What? Why? When?'

'I'll get delivery by Friday. Your MOH dress is a bold rosewood with a thigh high slit, so I ordered you Christian Louboutin boots to go with it.'

His grin was feral, as he took the utmost pride in his actions.

Overcome with warmth, you whispered to him, 'You didn't have to do that.'

'I wanted to.' He started walking again.

Somehow trying to make sense of the man in front of you and what you were feeling, you asked. 'How do you know my style?'

He shot you an 'are you for real?' look. 'I've helped you dress for balls, parties, date nights, y/n. A pair of boots is no problem.'

'Well,' you went for the next best thing, 'I want to pay for it then.'

'I already paid in full,' he ordered you a white chocolate frappuccino and chocolate milk for himself.

'So tell me the price or I'll make you send it back.'

You knew you were being annoyingly ungrateful, but you didn't ever want them to think you were taking advantage of them by spending their money.

It was their hard earned money. Namjoon you could understand, he would tear the roof down if you told him not to spend money on you and he had a right, because he was your husband. Even at dinner it usually was up to who could take out their card fast enough to pay or you would negotiate halfsies.

That was a conversation you had early on before marriage. It was either he did tickets and you did popcorn, he did dinner and you did dessert or you would go halfsies.

The boys were an entirely different story. Jin was pushy even when he was gentle, although you couldn't consider it gentle when he bent your card in half the last time you argued with him about buying sushi and Hoseok was always faster in pulling out his card when he paid for books when you went to bargain sales for second hand ones and book fairs.

Coffee, like today, with Taehyung or any of the band for that matter, was allowable.

But Christian Louboutin boots? No way.

Noting your conflicted expression, he thanked the batista and handed you your mocha, 'Okay, so you're gonna make me send back,'he turned toward you and made his tone seductive, 'the thigh-high, black suede boots, with a multilayer silver chain hanging from the top of your thigh, joined by a single crescent moon and multiple tiny stars spanning the chain length,'

You imagined it as he described. 'Heel length?' Your voice sounded raspy even to your own ears, caught in a thrall somehow.

He did that devilish smirk of his, knowing he had you in,'Six inches.'

You grumbled at him. 'You don't play fair, Taehyung.'

'Don't be a baby,’ he scolded. ‘Consider it a Christmas present.'

'An expensive one,' you mumbled.

'Is that the issue? Money?' He looked slightly offended, his chocolate milk hanging at his side. 'Money doesn't compare to happiness, y/n.'

'I feel bad.' And you really did.

He handed you his chocolate milkshake, on instinct you grabbed it from his hand. His own hands came up to hold onto your shoulder a second later. 'Y/n,' he bent his head a little to meet your eye, soft tone, with heavy-lidded eyes, 'you have nothing to feel bad for, you deserve nice things. Okay?' Fucking man was coaxing you and it was working.

You nodded subconsciously, slightly entranced by his stare. His gentle tone, asking nicely, as if he didn't have a soft spot in your heart already.

Only when he let go of you did you remember how your lungs worked. You blew out a breath of air and side-eyed him, 'How many women fall prey to that kind of intensity?'

He sipped his chocolate milk after taking it back from you, but his eyes shined with mirth.

You both started walking again, heading toward a highly recommended jewelry shop.

Taehyung was too fucking powerful for his own good.

Well, you may be affected by his gaze. But you were still Kim Y/n and you knew when your boys were, doing a bit too much.

'Kim Taehyung,' you sipped your coffee, as you mulled over a thought in your mind. This could go bad, or… hit the nail on the head. 'Do you think I'm still mad at you?'

His cocky smile disappeared.

Ah hah. 'Because I'm not. And you don't have to overcompensate.'

He sighed. 'I just don't know what you're thinking sometimes. You literally keep your mouth shut when it involves the band or anyone in it.'

'I can't meddle in a fight between Joon and any of his band members. That's me overstepping.' But you understood where he was coming from, he would have known you'd disapprove of the things he said at the party, you shot him an apologetic glance. 'But I am sorry for not being honest with you.'

When he didn't reply, you took it as an opportunity to continue. 'I was upset. But only because Joon was upset. And the way I see it, you had the right to be angry. Sure it wasn't the best way to go about it, you know, the way you did, but you did the right thing by apologizing.'

'I acted out.' He said more to himself than you. 'It makes me feel like a child.'

'I act out too. And I get put in my place, sometimes by Namjoon, sometimes Jin, not to mention Kenta and Yuna. It happens.'

'I'm scared.’ He admitted. ‘Of…well… you know.'

'Not finding love?'

He nodded.

'You have the best asset to aid you in that. Your instincts. Your vibe check is real. So trust it. As for finding her…'

'Or him.'

'Or him,' you amended, 'that will happen when it needs to happen.'

He looked up at you, some of the seriousness of the conversation fading away. 'It's a shame not all of us can drop our car keys outside the library.'

You chuckled at his words. There was something about these men that made doing a life a bit better as long as you were alongside them.

'Hey bath bombs!' Taehyung exclaimed as he stopped at a window display.

'Ooh they're pretty,' you checked out the different colors, six in a box, round rings in different colors, like donuts. ‘They look edible.'

'You want them?'

You narrowed your eyes, he was testing you, but he was not Taehyung if he didn't toe the line a little. 'Stop trying to buy me stuff.'

He merely shrugged. 'They're on sale.'

'They're expensive.'

'I'll get them for you.'

'Tae,' you warned.

'You like black the most right,' he pushed.

'Tae.'

'And they're two for one!'

'Taehyung!'

He stopped, his lips pursed in amusement. 'I'm playing.' He linked his arm with you again. 'Come on. Let's get your jewelry set.'

You followed in step, but he earned a hard shove a minute later when he said, 'We can always get the bath bombs before leave.'

----------

Y/n was busy checking out jewelry sets and Taehyung wanted to feed his bracelet obsession, so he parted ways with her in the store.

He was glad he proposed the shopping trip. Y/n's presence was weirdly therapeutic. It was so easy to talk to her and tell her things, stuff he'd never say to anyone other than Jimin or his band members. She’d also proved a long time ago that what was said to her, by any of the members, was between her and the member that said it, no one else. Ever.

The conversation they'd had wasn't planned. He didn't even expect her to dive into the specifics of why he wanted to do something nice for her and on another note, he felt a bit of shame in knowing he didn't do more for her before.

That could change, but it was going to be met with heavy resistance from y/n – she was too proud. She had every reason to be.

Well, gifts didn't always have to be bought, and it didn't always have to be gifts. He would talk to his brothers, make sure they could get y/n on their tours, maybe somehow include her in the specifics of production. She had a good head on her shoulders and she was smart, she'd also make herself relatable to the fans if she spoke of some of her ARMY days before she met Namjoon hyung.

Taehyung also knew she was studying music and production off and on, so she could understand the technical jargon that came with their career. That in itself showed how much she cared and how far she was willing to go for them.

'That's her. That's her over there.'

Taehyung's ears perked up at the words. There were at least three more female customers in the store, other than y/n. One of which was Jinx, a new female bodyguard in Kenta's team. The other two were random.

Jinx was a petite woman. Slender and fine-boned, but from experience with over a hundred and fifty different secret service agents, Taehyung knew not to judge a book by its cover.

Jinx had been doing a pretty good job today, blending into the crowd, playing a spoiled rich girl shopper in knock-off branded clothing, and pursed lips with a bit of pink lipstick. It was a deep rose, no, no, it was a soft rose pink, the color was slightly lighter than a deep rose. Hmm, it was actually a pretty good choice for her skin tone.

Taehyung was a maknae to his band, but he was a veteran in the idol industry. And he was close friends with a bodyguard's fiancé, so he had no doubt in his mind that y/n had one more besides Jinx and Kenta was somewhere around leading the charge, relaying commands over comm sets.

He was alone. But not really. Ever since y/n’s marriage to Namjoon, Sylo worked with the studio security. It was unnecessary to have both y/n’s and the band's bodyguards or secret service members surrounding them. This was also a frequented mall, for celebs and idols in general, and in Korea he was generally allowed to go around on his own, as long as he had people in sight ready to converge if he was in trouble. They all did. Overseas… that was a different story.

'She does not look good enough, honestly.'

'Yeah no wonder she didn't go for all those tours.'

His insides froze. Now, there was no doubt in his mind that he was hearing a conversation about y/n.

He kept his head down, pretending to be interested in the array of bracelets in front of him. He had a beanie on and a mask, so maybe they hadn't noticed him. Sometimes it was a long shot because his features gave him away. Fans and antis were both detectives, his ARMY could tell the difference between the band members' shadows, so a mask and beanie, not unless he was really lucky.

'You saw those pictures?'

'Uh huh, trouble in paradise indeed.'

'Think she's getting back at Namjoon with Taehyung.'

Yeah, long shot. He was definitely made out.

'Shh, he could hear you.'

'He hasn't looked up, so it's fine. Then again,’ the bitch mused,’ Taehyung would have higher standards.'

'Namjoon could just be taking a break from her. Men do that sometimes.'

'Or he could be tired of her.'

'He's not that type of a person.'

'And how would you know?'

Pushing aside his simmering anger, Taehyung focused on the new voice that joined the conversation.

'Excuse me?' One of the shorter women crossed her arms and stared Jinx down.

'How. Would. You. Know.?'

Taehyung wanted to laugh, as she sounded out the words like she would to a child.

'This has nothing to do with you.' The taller one defended her friend.

'Neither does it have anything to do with you.' Jinx placed her hands on her hips. She looked ready to climb across the counter to them. 'You don't even know her.'

'And you do? Don't you read the news? Or are you one of those obsessed types that don't see the difference between right and wrong.'

'I'm not the one gossiping about a woman that's less than a few feet away from you. Jealousy is very ugly.' She looked between the two women. 'I can tell.'

The shorter one's mouth dropped open. She was the one that proposed y/n was probably looking at him as a prospect. It was the taller that reacted. 'Why you little –,'

'I would watch what I say next.' Taehyung pulled his mask down and decided to insert himself into the situation.

The women froze and so did Jinx.

Good. Just like that he was in charge of the situation.

He walked slowly toward the counter. He would lean forward, and unnerve them a bit more, but these were glass cases, he couldn't put pressure on them. So he kept his hands in his pockets.

'That woman,' he pointed to y/n, at the far end of the store, 'is using no less than three brand names on her, right now and is signed onto twice as many for celebrity branding.'

Not missing a beat he continued, using a very soft, but firm tone to make his point known. 'Her necklace, the crescent around her neck, is made up of 1.4 carat brilliant cut diamonds. Do you know how many replicas have been made because fans want one?'

He stared at them pointedly, waiting for an answer. They shook their heads. 'Hmm, Google it.'

'I hope it was worth getting your opinion out.' He nodded ruefully, as if he felt sorry for them, when he was anything but, 'Rather than capitalizing on a smart purchase and her free advertising.

He leaned toward both women and glowered at them. 'I would warn you against speaking that way about my sister-in-law, but…we won't be shopping here again.' A slow, cold, grin grew on his face and he watched theirs bleed of color, when they were red with embarrassment seconds ago.

Once he was satisfied, committing their name tags and facial features to memory, he turned toward Jinx.

'Thank you, for defending y/n.'

To the ladies behind him, he sounded sweet, but he gave Jinx a hard stare. She knew better than to blow her cover, emotional attachments be damned. It was a rookie mistake.

He appreciated Jinx's loyalty to speak up for y/n, but she also needed to choose her battles.

He would have approached the ladies eventually, and said the same thing, because he was already given away. But Jinx needed to have no known association with y/n in public. Especially now that y/n needed protection.

She knew she fucked up. He could tell by the look in her eye, despite her bored expression.

She walked out of the store after she gave a curt nod in acknowledgement, but he knew she wouldn't be far; they just needed to do a change over.

'Y/n.' He called out as he approached her.

'Hmm?' She didn't look up yet, clearly engrossed.

'We need to leave.'

That got her attention.

She stared at him, then glanced behind him and back. Her lips tilted up on one side. Or she had appeared to be engrossed in her task.

She turned to the male that had been helping her, and thanked him before moving towards the door.

'You didn't have to be so hard on her.' She sipped her coffee, as if this was a daily occurrence. ‘Or on them.’

Seething he linked his forearm with hers, and walked out of the store. He didn't like that Jinx had made a mistake, but he didn't question why, it was about y/n's protection.

Probably sensing his mood, y/n changed her statement to a question. 'What did they say?'

Taehyung would feel vile for even thinking about their words, but they had heard worse, they were accused of worse. 'That you're trying to bag me next. Get back at hyung.'

'Well,' she tilted her head, 'you are a looker, and I have no doubt you'll treat me like a princess.' She stopped him when his anger didn't seem to abate. If anything he felt wrong. So wrong. Because no one could get used to words like that, and yet they had. The seven members dealt with haters every single day. But y/n, y/n didn't even do anything to anyone. All she did was get married to the leader, and yet….

'People don't matter, TaeTae, it happens all the time.'

He stopped. 'It matters to us.' He referred to his brothers. 'It matters to me. You're a part of our family.'

'Is it really worth the time?' She asked gently. 'There's so many more of them. Waiting and judging.'

She shook her head at him and added a side note. ‘Kenta will be ripping Jinx a new one.’

She was trying to change the subject. He played along for the moment. ‘She needs to fail now and again, and bounce back.’ Ignoring the broken record in his head where he wanted to tell y/n that she was worth the time and the effort and the fight, he changed tactics. 'Y/n. Remember you mentioned something about the library thing at Christmas?'

He felt her body tense up. Exactly what was it about her past and her dad that put her so on edge.

'That was a long time ago, right? And it's obviously a bad memory of some kind.' Taehyung got through most of his life with honesty, even if he wasn't understood, even if he was hurt, even if he hurt people, but to him beating around the bush was unnecessary. 'The version of you that you were when that happened, is different from the version of you that wants to complete it now, right?'

'A lot different.' She sipped her mocha, finding something to do while he broached an uncomfortable subject.

'Yuna accepted you in those times. She was there for both phases I'm guessing.'

He was talking out of his ass, but maybe she'd get it. And he'd try again, in a different way if she didn't.

'How grateful are you to her, to Yuna?'

Y/n didn't miss a beat. 'Exceptionally grateful.'

'Would you let anyone talk bad about her? In front of you? Even if it's just one person?'

He knew he was pushing, but he was buzzing in the aftermath of his anger.

'No. I wouldn't let anyone get away with talking bad about her.' Her answer was resolute.

He nodded. He was getting somewhere.

'When you met me, I was some kind of Taehyung. And now I'm this Taehyung. I was also, a Taehyung that wasn't nice a few days ago. But do you care for me any less?'

'No,' she pursed her lips, adamant, 'if anything I love you even more.'

'So would you let anyone talk badly about me? Even if it's one person. Even if you knew it wouldn't change their opinion or their perception? And even though you know, I've heard worse and been told worse?'

'No.' She sighed. 'Never.'

'I will always defend you, whether you like it or not.’ It was a declaration and he meant it. ‘I hope you see that one day y/n. A pair of boots, a bit of money, defending you and taking care of you, these are small things compared to the gift you've given us. To truly be ourselves.'

Y/n was stubborn. But maybe that was a good thing. She was also a form of hope for his members and himself. Maybe that hope can be stubborn too. And one day, someone would gift Taehyung the freedom for him to be himself, to say the weirdest things, to think about life and its possibilities, to see his quirks and flaws and his habits… and love him anyway.

Taglist - @casnextdoor @jaysdimples @belliebell @pinkcherrybombs @sweetjellyfishland @blushingatyou @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue @somewhereinthestarss @k-brownsugar @namsona17 @taejinxkoya @notsooperfect @zae007live @its-hopes-world @shina913 @bri-mal @piecesofapril11 @kissme-ornot @toriluvsfics @agustdmwah @lochness-butmakeitsexy @petalsofink @definetlythinkimanalien @masterpiecejoonie @gcintia @danietoww04 @roguesthetic @rjsmochii @amymikaelson @hello-kittyy @mschievous247 @onlythehobi @deliciousdetectivestranger @daddypkj @callmemadhatter @rkivecenter @codeinebelle @creolesoul2seoul [open]

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Part 21 || Ever-logical

Part 21.5.1 - Vibe Check

Part 21.5.2 - Tightrope

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

#bts aus #bts #bts au fanfic #namjoon au #namjoon fanfic #bts namjoon #bts angst #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #bts au #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x you #kim namjoon imagine #bts kim namjoon #rm angst #rm au #kim namjoon x reader #bts joonie #namjoon #namjoon imagine #taehyung #kim taehyung #bts taehyung #bts v

[queerthoughts-gaybrainrot]

if Aleksander was truly a villain

[I apologise for the chaotic structure, however I only now taken my ADHD meds and it takes some time before they kick in]

I am (spite) rewatching the show and have noticed the writers missed many opportunities in which they could absolutely make Aleksander/The Darkling the absolute villain. The one that would actually be feared, that we would maybe even hate as we hated characters such as Joffrey Baratheon (well, probably not because Aleksander is an attractive adult but you know).

For example, their first meeting. 

He could have brought her to him in chains on their first meeting. He could have interrogated her if she isn’t a Shu-spy, or showcase behavior similar to the one Zoya had towards Alina. He could have told her how many people died because of her actions, break her down. He could have told her it was all for nothing and lie that Mal also died, because of her selfish actions. 

And when they transported her to the Little Palace.

He could’ve played on Alina’s emotions, say that those people died for and because of her. That if she had not pushed her powers down and accepted her identity instead of suffocating herself to stay with Mal, she would already be a powerful Grisha. Maybe even destroyed the Fold already. Countless deaths could have been avoided, including those of her friends. Maybe even the war would have ended and there would be no threat of a civil war. And her fear of his own powers? He could have easily flipped it onto her, that she is treating him the way many soldiers and commoners treated her, just she lets her prejudice against Grisha influence her, not her prejudice against the Shu.

Instead of giving her the time to recover after the travel, he could have dragged her to court. Order the servants and Genya to get her ready immediately and introduce her as a tool, a weapon, someone under him, a means to an end. 

He could have isolated her from anyone, not allow any Grisha to be close enough to be considered friends. Order Genya to feed Alina lies that it’s for protection, or that it’s the order of the King, or that they don’t want to interact with her because of her internalised prejudice and unwillingness to help them. He could have forged letters between Mal and Alina, instead of just taking them. Make it seem like they hate each other. That Mal hates Alina for being Grisha and nearly getting him killed. That Alina hates Mal for being human. Kirigan could have gone as far as to tell Alina that Zoya did not sleep with Mal, but instead that Mal attacked her and forced her, and that’s the reason why Zoya hates Alina. Because she’s Mal’s friend.

He could have become Alina’s only friend, the one who would comfort her after Baghra’s lessons, eat meals with her, send her gifts, teach her, take her for rides. All while feeding her lies. Maybe that he too suppressed his powers once, to avoid being taken from someone he loves, and understands her struggles. He could have made her believe that without him, it will not be possible for her to ever take down the Fold. Maybe feed her a story that it was Baghra who was the Black Heretic, but the history changed a woman into a man because it was easier for them to believe. It would be easy to persuade Alina and make her think that Baghra is there just to keep everything under her control, keep Aleksander under her control like she did for centuries. 

He could have shown her the corpses of the Grisha killed by Fjerdans, Shu, Ravkans. The ones who were still tended to by the Healers, still in pain, screaming, covered in blood. Tell her the stories how once Grisha would hunt each other for the amplifiers. How Shadow Summoners were seen as something to hate, to be feared. Make her feel sympathy for him. Fall for him, only to be chained with the amplifiers because Kirigan does not trust her and will never trust her. It would show that he is incapable of trust, of love. He would betray her first. Or maybe she would be given the amplifiers as a sign of love, and once they were in the Fold? that’s when he would betray her. Along the way Baghra, Genya, maybe even Zoya would try to tell Alina who he really is but she wouldn’t believe it.

When Mal comes to Kirigan with the information about the whereabouts of the stag but refuses to say anything if he doesn’t see Alina? Torture the information out of him. Make one of the Heartrenders squeeze it out, or make Zoya do the job just to twist the knife. Send Marie who is tailored as Alina to Mal, make her lie that she (Alina) hates him, that he’s nothing, that he will always be nothing. Tailor one of his soldiers into Mal and send him to Alina, to do the same!

When Mal is later captured? Break the damn promise, kill him. Torture him, make him go mad with hate towards Grisha, lie that he simply ran away and left Alina to deal with all of this alone.

Also - no Kirigan caring for his Grisha. It’s hard to see someone with a good goal (fighting the oppression of his people) as a villain. To make him a villain, he should be like Baghra. No lost love to Ravkan soldiers. No him risking his life to protect the other Grisha. No him being patient-fatherly like towards David. No sending Fedyor to find Nina (who is just another soldier). He should see them as simple pawns, soldiers with no names, expendable tools in his game, and we should see that. 

They had so many opportunities to make him a villain, but they didn’t. Instead they made him one of most logical and sympathetic characters in the show. Who wouldn’t empathise with someone who comes from an oppressed group, and for centuries tries to give his people a safe place? Who started as a helper to the King, and was betrayed by said King after winning a war for him? Who was hunted by the human soldiers and was forced to watch his love be murdered in front of him? Who was raised by an abusive, emotionally unavailable mother who isolated him from his fellow Grisha? Who has shown time and time again that he cares for his people and just wants them to be safe? He used merzost knowing it would be a risk, but he was willing to take it to protect his people. He used it once, when the King was hunting him and his fellow Grisha, and he used it again when Zlatan was causing a civil war and selling Grisha to Fjerdans. That’s not actions of a villain.

#aleksander morozova #aleksander kirigan #general kirigan #sab #shadow and bone #the darkling #the black heretic #ben barnes #shadow and bone show #grishaverse #darkling #kirigan

[wandsandwheezes]

Desperado | G. W

WARNINGS // Smut 18+, Degradation, Rough Sex, Daddy Kink, Oral (both receiving), masturbation, semi-public, AFTERCARE

This is 3.1k of pure smut because I high key watched a tiktok and went I’m finna make this fanfic so enjoy.

‘This isn’t a good idea’ you thought, walking across the room to join him, an extra bit of flare added to your step, the intent obvious in your strut. It was no secret that George was absolutely enamoured with you, the way your hair flowed behind you with every step, walking effortlessly in your heels and burgundy gown; a simple cinched bodice, with flowing train and a slit up to the thigh. He felt in a trance, taken away from the conversation he was having, completely focused on you for the few moments it took for you to reach him.

It wasn’t often you and George would get all scrubbed up, but attending a dinner at Malfoy Manor was one of those evenings. It was no surprise to anyone, that their Annual Ball Dinner was a very expensive, prestigious bash. You were truly lucky to be invited back year after year, glad you’d befriended Astoria and Draco as a young Slytherin. You were watching your Husband from across the room, he was talking to a couple of wealthy businessmen, a smart move from a business stance but from your eyes, you were frustrated he had been neglecting you for most of the night. He was dressed up in a gorgeous tailored navy suit, hair slicked back perfectly to compliment his winning smile.

The way you just delicately placed your hand on his chest the moment you were at his side had him swooning but after all the years you had been together, he had come to recognise the glint in your eye all too well - the glassy look of pure adoration, the way your lips turned up into a soft smirk. Being around you was like a drug to him, he would do anything at your beck and call and right now all you wanted was to be tangled beneath the sheets with a man you loved dearly. He knew that, recognised it even, in the soft hum that left your lips as his arm snuck around your waist, pulling you into him.  

He pressed his lips to your temple, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, whispering a soft ‘later’ to you. Those were not the words you’d wanted to hear at all, you wanted him to oblige and take you home to the comfort of your shared bed. Quite frankly you were sure you’d let him lift up your skirt and have you in the back of the car, but you’d told yourself you wanted things to be special and you would get your way, no matter how bratty you had to be to get there. 

It started with you biting the inside of your lip whenever he would look down at you, then you added the bedroom eyes into the mix - you could’ve sworn that would’ve been enough to sway him, but nevertheless he brushed off your attempts, this evening was important for business and he knew that you knew that too. You decided to leave George to his businessman talks and find his older twin, who was to no surprise, sat at the bar.

“Hi, Freddie,” you sighed, lifting up your skirt so that you could sit on the bar stool next to him, he smiles, pushing his glass over to you, sensing the stress radiate off of you. You take the glass, downing the shot of whiskey, biting back the taste with a squeeze of your eyes shutting, you weren’t sure how people could drink the vile liquid until now, when you had let it pass your lips with ease.

“Your brother is an arse,” you roll your eyes before looking over your shoulder, seeing George laughing, strong hand gripping the dainty champagne glass, his veins peeking out from under the cuff of his shirt before disappearing up under the sleeve, leaving you to your own imagination once again. Your favourite thing was always George’s arms and yet he hid them from everyone’s view, including yours, making you even more frustrated. 

“What one?” he jokes, gesturing to the bartender to bring another drink, you look over to the man sitting next to you, with a look that could’ve hexed him if you’d really tried. “What’s he doing to you?” he prompts from you, causing you to let out a long staggered breath. 

“It’s more like what he’s not doing to me,” you tuck your hair behind your ears, resting your elbow on the bar so that you could prop your head up, “I take my time to look good for him and be the perfect wife, but he won't even acknowledge me for more than a minute, Fred, what am I doing wrong?” he chuckles, shaking his head, looking over to his brother who seems to be rounding off the conversation with who Fred can only hope would be the shop's potential new investor. 

“Oh, Y/N, you see who George has been with? That’s Mr. Greengrass, He and I are both sure if we can get him to invest, we can look at more new products, more advertising, better quality. We need it.” You sigh, Fred was right, you knew how important this evening was to the business, and although you have a deep need to be selfish and take 

your husband home, Fred had convinced you to see the evening through. 

At some point you had found yourself drawn back to your husband’s side, breathing in his cologne and admiring the passion in his voice, you could still feel the ache inside of you, as if he had the power to tease you without touch, which you had to admit he was unsurprisingly good at although, you wouldn’t let him know or it would definitely go to his head. 

George had noticed early on in the night your intentions, he was aware of what he was doing, how frustrating it was for you and he was more than ready to play the game you had started. He had been waiting patiently until the sit down meal, where he knew he could really start to play the hand he had been dealt. 

He counted his luck that your dress had a split, taking the opportunity to rest his hand on your thigh after finally taking your seats, it wasn't an unusual gesture for your relationship, he was always a sucker for physical touch, especially when it came to you. That however, wasn't enough for you, and you knew you were pushing your luck as you pressed your hand on top of his, gently moving it higher up your thigh, resulting in him giving your leg a firm squeeze. 

The first course had slowly rolled its way out and you sighed, being no closer to your end goal, you were unaware of George's plan tickling around in the back of his head, you really thought you would get something out of him by now and you were getting brattier as the evening continued, an idea popping into your head. 

You had pulled out a few things from your bag, a couple of them 'accidentally' falling to the floor. You slipped onto your knees, grabbing George's wrist, taking his long, slender, pointer and middle fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a way to mimic what he could be getting if he just obliged. You found your dropped items, pulling his fingers from your lips before his hand found your throat with ease under the table, squeezing it gently. You came back up from under the table, an innocent look plastered on your face. 

George however, was not having any of it. The eyes he gave you were fuelled with fire, staring down at you with a pure anger that only you could recognise in his eyes. You knew you’d won the game you’d been playing and he knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it, in front of everyone. At least not without giving you what you want or without leaving dinner now to have his way with you. 

When sitting back in your chair, adjusting your hair from the friction of it being caught against the tablecloth, George’s hand found its way back to your thigh, pinky finger brushing teasingly close to where you wanted him, you huffed a little, grabbing your glass of champagne from the table to take a sip, when he began to trace small circles on your inner thigh with his pointer finger. The action caused your breath to hitch in your throat, almost spitting out the bubbly liquid back into the champagne flute. 

You placed the drink back down onto the table before resting your hand on his shoulder, smiling sweetly at him. He returned the façade gesture, smiling at you all while catching eyes with his brother who started up a conversation “Any good news with Mr Greengrass?” to which your husband nodded, quickly.  

“I think all we need is for you to sweep in and seal the deal, Freddie, he seems really interested.” as he was talking to his twin, George’s fingers had found their way to tease your clit, feeling you already soaked through your underwear - having to hold back his usual string of degradation in favour of continuing his conversation, “You know how investors can be, they’re always eager at the beginning, you have to catch them while they’re hot and really get involved, get what I mean?” It became evident to you very quickly that It was you he was talking about, causing you to bite your cheek. “I hope you don’t mind me leaving it down to you, I have something that really needs doing at home.” 

Fred, fortunately, had quickly caught George’s drift, taking a moment to observe you shifting in your seat, as well as the shit-eating grin plastered across his twin’s face. “Of course, dear brother, I know how, uh, urgent that is for her- sorry, you.” 

Getting you towards the car was a struggle, putting on your bratty attitude as soon as you were out of earshot from others, pulling your wrist quickly from his grip and crossing your arms, standing still in the middle of the once bustling reception hall, “Fucking hell, Princess, don’t make this any worse for yourself.” you rolled your eyes at his tone, you’d already got him to this point, why not push it further. He wasted no time in grabbing your jaw to force you to look at him, causing you to giggle. “I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you, my desperate little whore, move or I’ll leave you here.” he was practically growling at low his voice was, his eyes darkened past a point you’d ever seen before and you could tell he was all too close to throwing you over his shoulder.

George had managed to get you into the car without a blazing argument, however the way he was gripping the steering wheel was turning his knuckles a pure white, and he was still yet to say another word to you, forcing you to study every inch of his body. You could see the new veins in his neck and all you wanted to do was press little kisses to his jaw.

“Get your foot up on the dash and touch yourself, now.” he seethed, his hand moving to shift gears, before using it to squeeze your thigh, “Suck on those pretty fingers like you did for me earlier, keep yourself nice and wet for me.” It was a sight to behold, his beautiful wife in his passenger seat, spread open and touching herself for him. His eyes were flitting between the road and the way your head was thrown back as you circled your own clit. “Don’t go quiet on me, angel, let me hear those moans.”

He had parked up outside your home, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over the centre console to get his own taste, his tongue licking a bold stripe before sucking your clit between his teeth, his low hums sending electricity through you. He didn’t seem to care much that he was uncomfortable, just that you were a mess of moans for him, your fingers tousling his once neatly styled hair. “You’re lucky I’m doing this, considering what a fucking brat you’ve been tonight.”

You were an absolute babbling mess for him, he had brought you right to the edge of release, before storming out of the car, managing to pull you out of the quickly before he tossed you over his shoulder, making sure to give a firm slap to your ass, desperate to get you into bed. The warmth of your home was a comforting contrast to the bitter cold of the winter night. 

He had thrown you onto your mattress, earning a laugh from you, it was exhilarating being beneath him, especially when he still had that darkness to his eyes. “Knees, now.” His curt tone gravelly against the echoes of your laughter, not that you weren’t happy to oblige, you slipped off your soft sheets onto your knees, hands making light work of his belt as you watch him shrug off his suit jacket, loosen his tie and slowly unbutton his shirt. 

When you had him in your hands, you were always pleasantly surprised at how well you were able to take him, not hesitating to take as much of him as you could, right until the tip was to the back of your throat, his loud moan was enough to make you wet, as if you weren't enough already, knowing better than to touch yourself at this moment. 

“That’s my fucking desperate girl, trying to take all of me, you can take more though, can’t you princess?” his hands were already in your hair, coaxing his length further down your throat as he began to set a small rhythm, fucking your mouth was one of his favourite things to do, seeing the tears pooling in your eyes before running down your cheeks. 

He pulled his cock from your mouth, guiding you up to a standing position by your chin before pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, his hands beginning to bunch up the material of your dress, before roughly gripping your hips and getting you onto the bed once again, his fingers hooked into your underwear, toying them down your legs, “Georgie, what about my dress.” you questioned, reaching up so that your hand was playing with the hairs at the back of his neck. He simply laughed, pulling you so that your hips were at the edge of the bed, “Desperate whores get fucked with their skirts hitched up, no matter how pretty they look.”

His cock was already filling you to the hilt before you could protest, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat, pleased with the way your eyes rolled back as you finally got what you’d been playing all night for. He was fucking you at a relentless pace, your moans breathy and airy as he toyed with the pressure of his hand pressing against your windpipe, pleasure was coursing through the both of your veins, taking all he could from you until he felt you tightening around him. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

He pulled out of you completely, flipping you over so you were forced onto your hands and knees, leaving you not only breathless, but desperate for a release, “George, please… I need you so badly.” his hand threaded through your hair, pulling you up roughly so that your back was against his chest, “Oh yeah? well I much prefer you gagged by a cock, I think you need a lesson in being a good submissive thing.” 

“I want to see those tear stained cheeks, Princess, Daddy isn’t stopping until he ruins your makeup.”  He was inside you again, this time pushing your face into the mattress as he had you screaming, his other had reached around to rub against your clit, he wanted to push you right to your edge again, before stopping. “you like this don’t you? needy whore.” you were a moaning mess, begging him with any sentence you could string together to let you cum. 

“Daddy, please keep going, I need to-” he cut you off, flipping you onto your back once more, “oh, you want me to keep going? such a slut for me, aren’t you?” you were nodding up at him, his hand finding yours to lace your fingers together. Even though your makeup was ruined and you were a mess at his will, he still thought you were a sight to behold, like the brightest star in the night’s sky or a perfect pearl in an oyster, and his weakness? Watching your face as you came undone beneath him. 

He was inside of you once again, this time he didn’t stop, the moans he let out was music to your ears as you felt your stomach in knots finally coming undone as you released over him, he continued to fuck you relentlessly as he found his own release, twitching inside of you as he came. He pressed a soft and gentle kiss to your lips, hands still holding each other’s as he peppered soft kisses down your neck. 

“Well done, angel, you’re such a good girl for me.” he swung your legs over the bed so that you could rest your head on the pillow. He made his way into the bathroom, turning on the shower to let it run warm, grabbing a makeup wipe to help clean you up. He returned to you, sitting you up so he could wipe away your makeup, smiling at you lovingly as he did so, your hand resting on top of his as he cupped your cheek. You were truly lucky to have a husband that cared for you the way he did and as foggy as your mind still was, the way his love and adoration shone through as clear as day, he slipped off your heels that were still on your feet, drooping them to the floor, “Let’s get you to the shower, my love.” 

He helped you up, skirt falling to its natural position, you walked on shaky legs to the bathroom, leaning on the counter as he unlaced the gorgeous dress he had pulled you into earlier pressing a delicate kisses to your shoulder as he let the material fall to the floor, he grabbed the hairbrush, running it through your hair gently to help remove any knots that he was definitely the culprit of. 

He pulled what was remaining of his clothes off of him before taking your waist, feeling comforted as his skin pressed against yours, as he helped you under the hot water. With your heels off, you forget how much he towered over you, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him into a kiss. “I love you so much, Georgie.” he smiles, pushing his water soaked hair back, “I love you too, Angel.” 

Maybe it was such a good idea after all.

TAGLIST 

@wand3ringr0s3​​ @gcdric​​ @starlightweasley​ @slytherinsunrise​

#george weasley fic #george weasley x reader #george weasley #fred and george #weasley twins #harry potter fic #harry potter

[readerstories]

Whatever We Want - Hannibal Lecter x gn!reader

Made it gender neutral because I could and gender doesn’t really come into the fic. I tried to go for smut, but got stuck, so just some light fluff this time. If you see any typos, please tell me. (AO3)

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 1468

Request: hi there! can you please do a Hannibal x reader? Preferably smut however if you just want fluff thats okay too! The reader is a patient of his and after awhile of therapy sessions and learning more about each other, he makes a move. she intrigues him and is intelligent and kind but dark like him. except not a cannibal (yet lol)

Going to therapy had been a hard choice for you. You’re a private person and think people should keep out of your business as much as possible, thank you very much.

But that, being said, you had realized you probably needed it, or at least something. Punching a mirror in a weak moment had made you seek something out.

So you had researched therapists near you, eventually finding one you thought might not be too bad.

To your surprise, you actually end up liking going there. Dr. Lecter is a well mannered and polite man with some dry humor which he sometimes lets shine through in your sessions. He’s not boring like you thought, instead well read in many disciplines and facets of life, and enjoys the finer things in life, like the tailored suits he always wears, giving your eye something nice as well as your mind.

He lets you ramble and talk about just about anything, sometimes listening, sometimes talking more than you when you are in a foul mood. He’s good at what he does, giving you the illusion of controlling where the sessions go, but you catch on after a few sessions. You joke about it some, (”Is this where you diagnose me with daddy issues Dr. Lecter?” A movement that can barely be called a smile and a huff of air the closest thing you have heard to a laughter from him. “I am not.”), but over time you grow into it, letting him do so.

It helps that you find him interesting and good to look at, so he has no problems in keeping you attentive when you meet. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t thought about him in other settings. But you had let them go, not wanting to push for something you can’t get.

Which is why, when Hannibal invites you over for dinner one day, he is met with surprised silence over the phone for a few seconds before you gather yourself and say yes to his invitation.

The next evening, at 6 pm sharp, you ring the doorbell of his house while trying to squash the butterflies fluttering to life in your stomach.

Steady footsteps behind the door, and then it’s opened by Hannibal. He’s not smiling, not that you expected him to, but the look on his face is kind. You hand over the blue hydrangeas you had been holding.

“I would have gotten some wine, but I know your taste is better than mine, so I did this instead.”

“Thank you. Come in.” Still ever so polite, Dr. Lecter holds the door open for you as you step inside.

“I find that flowers have a calming effect as well as bringing more life to a room. Please make yourself comfortable while I find a vase for these wonderful points of life.” Hannibal walks down a hallway and you start to take a look around.

The decor and furnishing clearly speaks to a man living alone, but it is as classy and stylish, but yet very on trend as the man you just gave flowers to.

You had debated over what to bring for longer than you would care to admit, unsure what to make of the situation you find yourself in. You wonder what Hannibal had meant by inviting you over for dinner like this.

You are brought out of your musing by approaching steps. Hannibal appears with the flowers in a simple black vase, setting them down on the nearest flat surface before looking at you.

“If you will join me in the dining room, dinner is ready.” You nod, following him into yet another stylish room. The dinner table is long and surrounded by many chairs, clearly able to host a larger gathering of people if needed. But tonight there is only you and Dr. Lecter. He pulls out a chair for you when you get close, and you sit down, the neatly set table in front of you. Yet again he leaves you alone, going through what you assume is the way to the kitchen. Just a few minutes later he is back with plates with food, the smell of them making your mouth water. He sets them down carefully on the table before sitting down across from you.

You can’t help the question that finally tumbles from your lips.

“What is this Dr. Lecter?”

“It is called-” You hold up a hand, silencing him.

“Not the food, but this. Inviting me over for dinner, just the two of us alone.” A few beats of silence as you watch each other.

“It is whatever we want it to be.” He lets the word linger before speaking once more.

“You are one of the most interesting people I have ever met, so a dinner seemed only fitting to get to know each other better.” Your first thought is no, that is what you do in your therapy session, but no, that’s not really it is it? He knows you, but you don’t know much about him, other than that he is polite and looks very good in tailored suits.

“Very well Dr. Lecter.” A smile, the first proper one you have seen from him, however small.

“Please, call me Hannibal.” You smile back at him, glancing down at the food to avoid his gaze so he can’t see how flustered that little permission to use his first name had gotten you.

“But now I am actually curious, what is this wonderful dinner I see and smell before me?”

“The meat is-” and from here he launches into an explanation of the food and how he prepared it while he starts to eat. You mirror him, both continuing to eat while he explains, and then the conversation flows from there. You find it even easier and better to talk to him in a more casual setting like this, almost every sentence he speaks makes you more interested in the man.

He pours you both a glass of wine, and you toast to the health of the other, then continue talking. It’s an easy ebb and flow of words, neither of you running dry on what to say or where to next with your words.

You keep talking and drinking more wine all trough your dinner, and you keep talking while helping Hannibal clear away the dishes. You follow him into the kitchen, offering him to help him, but he thanks you no, saying that no guest of his should do dishes.

So instead you lean against the counter, looking over the kitchen while he does dishes, wineglass almost empty again. You take your last sip of it, setting it down on the counter next to the knife block behind your back.

“You have a rather large kitchen for one person.”

“I like to cook, sometimes for many people.” You hum, watching his back move through his white shirt, shamelessly looking now that he can’t see you.

“I gathered as much, and you are good at it too, I must say.”

“Thank you.” Hannibal almost catches you staring when he turns around, a chef knife in his hands. He steps toward you, and you know you are in his way so he can’t put the knife away, but you don’t move. He raises a brow, you tilt your head in response. Another few steps and he is very much in your personal space, the knife by his side now. He moves his arm ever so slowly up, the knife glinting briefly in the light before it goes behind your back.

You hear it slide into its place in the block, but pay it no mind, all your attention on Hannibal’s face now.

Pulling his arm back, it doesn’t go back at Hannibal’s side, instead his hand comes to at your hip. You lick your lips, his eyes following the motion, the silence in the room deafening.

He leans forward ever so slightly, and then, finally, his lips are on yours. They are firm, warm, and you are quick to respond. Kissing him back your own hands go around his neck, pulling him closer. Hannibal hums into the kiss, both of his hands on your hips now. His tongue comes out and you open your mouth to him, meeting him halfway there.

Hannibal kisses with a quiet, but solid, fierceness you perhaps hadn’t expected. So who are you to blame when your hand wanders down to tug him forward by his belt loop, sending a very clear message of what you want this to be.

Hannibal breaks the kiss but doesn’t go far, staying right where he is as he speaks.

“Is this what you want it to be?”

“Yes.” You whisper breathlessly and pull him back for another kiss with his tie.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal fanfiction #Hannibal TV #hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #reader insert #hannibal fic #reader #written #1000 #readerinsert

[mitsungo]

Oh lord help me.

I was just imagining things in my head, when suddenly, I had an urge to write a part two of the first fic I wrote. So, here we are. Except, Akaza is here now.

☆*:.｡. o❄️o .｡.:*☆

It had been over a week since Akaza had killed the flame hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku. Though he succeeded in killing the hashira, his master was deeply, upset with him for not finding anything about the flower that he was sent to search for. It frustrated Akaza that he had failed his mission in someway. As he recalled his battle with Kyojuro, he remembered that he had seen a photo fall out of the hashira’s pocket. Akaza wasn’t able to see much of it, but he did see a glimpse of a woman. He also remembered that as he ran away from the sun, the weakling that had called him a coward say that he had taken Kyojuro from his fiancée.

“So you were going to get married huh?” He quietly spoke to himself in the middle of a forest. Akaza snickered at the thought of Kyojuro’s fiancée hearing the news of her future husband’s death. “If only he had become a demon then he wouldn’t have died. Though I doubt he would control himself from devouring you.” Akaza said, he shut his eyes and pondered wether or not to go and find this fiancée of the man he killed. He was curious about the woman Kyojuro was going to marry for some reason. Sighing, Akaza stood up, finally making his decision. He was going to find that woman, just to satisfy his curiosity.

He didn’t really have much of a lead at first, but as he remembered certain parts of the fight, some of the memories of that night helped him start off with something. There was a certain piece of cloth that Kyojuro clung onto during the fight, it was a beautiful piece too if he was honest, with two cranes, some flowers and a crest. That must have been the family crest of the girl’s family. Now, you may ask, how on earth is that even a clue? Well duh, it’s a crest, someone must know of it, he had to unfortunately go around in his spare time asking random strangers if they knew about the crest. And so far, no one he asked knew about it. Pity.

And so now it was two weeks since he had killed kyojuro, and still no fiancée. Akaza was ready to give up on the task of finding the girl, until he ran into a lowly demon that he happened to cross paths with frequently in a village.

“Oh yes! I know that crest! It belongs to a kimono shop in the village next over to this one! I don’t get so close to the shop itself since the place is littered with Wisteria and I hear the seamstress herself is an extremely talented young beautiful woman who recently lost her fiancé!” The demon said to Akaza. Akaza felt relief about the information for some weird reason. The demon continued, “I’m sure the house of the tailor has the crest on their home so it won’t be hard to find either!” “I see. Thank you. I’ll let you be now then.” And with that, Akaza made his way to where the demon had said.

When he arrived at the village, he decided to eat first before going to find the house of the tailor. Once he found his victim of the night, he asked them about the seamstress and if they knew where she lived. After they told him the information (barley), he proceeded to devour them. Akaza wiped his mouth and stretched, he grinned with delight and made his way to the house of the girl he had been searching for. He arrived at a mansion not far from the forest where he had just eaten, the mansion itself was fairly big and wisteria flowers were hanging from wooded fences at the front of mansion and the main door. Akaza decided to look around first before doing anything else, he made his way to the back of the house and saw that there was a woman standing in the garden of the home. She was breath taking for sure, her eyes were puffy and red from crying, this must be her. The fiancée of Rengoku Kyojuro. Did she know he was the one that killed him? Did they tell her? Guess he’d have to find out himself. He jumped on top of the fence and looked down at her. How come there wasn’t any wisteria flowers here? Akaza had finally made his presence known to the girl as she slowly looked his way, her eyes making contact with his own.

“Who might you be? Are you perhaps a demon? Have you come to eat me? If so, please do it quickly. I’d rather not keep my husband waiting for me in the afterlife.” She told him stoically. Akaza was taken back by her words. “I am not here to eat you. I do not eat women. I just,” he had to think of a good excuse. “…heard from some townsfolk over in the last village that you are an extraordinary talented seamstress. I wanted to see for myself.” The girl looked at him with a small gentle smile, she looked back to where she was looking and said nothing. A minute passed by and she finally spoke again, “I do not make kimonos anymore. I have given up that passion to instead drown myself in pain and tears. I am sorry to disappoint you, but you have come here for nothing.” “Is that so? Why may that be?” He asked, tilting his head. Here it comes. “I recently lost my husband to an illness and he dearly loved when I would craft kimonos. Since he died, I have not made a single kimono.” She smiled softly, her smile beaming like the moonlight. Liar. She lied. Kyojuro didn’t die from illness. “Really? How tragic. And what was his name if I may ask?” The girl hummed, pausing for a second. “Rengoku Kyojuro.” Akaza wanted to giggle at that moment, but he had to resist the urge to do so. Though the part of kyojuro dying from a sickness bothered him, he still felt joy. “What is your name demon?” The girl asked, her head tilting, as if she was mimicking the gesture he had just done a few minutes ago. “Akaza.” “L/n Y/n.” “That’s a beautiful name you have there Y/n.” She didn’t reply, her eyes fixated on his. He was starting to get uncomfortable by the look in her eyes, as if she could see right through him. “You are a tragic as I am. Please. Indulge me with small talk. To relief my pain.” Y/n softly said, walking over to where he was and stretching her hand out for him to take. Akaza felt a vain pop out from irritation. She really creeped him out. “Alright. I will then.” He replied, taking her tiny hand and jumping down from his spot. “Just so I can see you make those beautiful kimonos that they say you make.”

And so now, four weeks have passed since he had killed kyojuro and met Y/n. He had come to take a liking to y/n, she was gentle and patient. She would listen to Akaza and speak very little as she wasn’t a talker. He really enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his. He had also been able to convince her to start crafting kimonos again, he felt really happy when he would come over and she would be waiting for him, a kimono in her lap, ready to start working on it. Sometimes he would talk and she would do what she did, other times he would just watch in awe as she quickly finished detailed patterns and sceneries. Those were his favorite, when she would sew landscapes of winter or spring, they were just beautiful to look at once she was done. Another thing that had made their relationship closer, wait. Relationship? He didn’t want to admit it, but they had some relationship going on, perhaps on the surface it seemed like comfort for both of them, but the more he thought of it, they had both gotten intimate on the third day he visited. Akaza knew she was just sexually frustrated, who could blame her? So he just let it happen, he was also glad she acted as if those moments didn’t happen but he kinda wished she acted like they did. Still, he was happy to just be with her. No wonder kyojuro loved this woman so much, she was perfect in every way. As his visit was coming to and end, he bid Y/n goodnight and jumped on the fence of the mansion, turning to face her before he left. Y/n waved him goodbye though her eyes widened in shock, tears spilling from her eyes when his last words for the night slipped from his mouth,

“I’ll see you when I come back tomorrow! And then, you, y/n, can show me how to sew such beautiful details in those kimonos you make!”

#demon slayer #fanfic #rengoku kyoujurou #fiction #akaza kimetsu no yaiba #kny kyojuro #akaza x reader