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truly-neutral-art · 3 days

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Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt. 1

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is.

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow.

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat.

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine.

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes.

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both.

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge.

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell.

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted.

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him.

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other.

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull.

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk.

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs.

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset.

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move.

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked.

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score.

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back.

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close.

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily.

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact.

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair.

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.”

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted.

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck.

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down.

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible.

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

#dinluke #star wars #luke skywalker #din djarin #art #dinluke fanart #fanfic #fanfiction #pacific rim au #dinluke au

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rush-the-stars · 1 day

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AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART I

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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.5k || ao3 || Part II -> coming soon! || masterlist ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

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“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

***

Suguru tries to tame you.

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✧ SPRING FEVER collab masterlist ✧

cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader if you squint, biting, blood, marking, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual forced feeding in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?

a/n: this is for @lorelune 's SPRING FEVER collab!! i have been working on this for awhile now and i am excited to share it! this should be about 3 parts...i am very close to finishing the whole thing so i should be releasing a part a week for the next two weeks!

thank you for reading!! i would love to hear your thoughts <333

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“I think you’d be perfect.”

Suguru’s voice is a caress, low and soft, as he sits across from you.

Somehow, he always makes you feel like he is just beneath the surface of your skin, even if there is a respectable distance between you. He always makes you feel as if he is lurking somewhere in the lowest parts of you, pulling at strings you once thought hidden to yourself.

You’ve kept your distance for this reason.

You swallow hard.

And then you manage to get your voice to unstick, to find it somewhere inside of you and bring it to life. It’s firmer than you’re anticipating and you’re proud;

“I don’t think I would be.”

Suguru looks at you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s seeing through you, pulling you open slowly to gaze at all the inner workings of you. His dark eyes are keen, so sharp, even if they’re shaded by half-lidded lashes.

He smiles pleasantly and indulges you, but you know he believes very firmly that he is, in fact, right, “why not?”

“I told you when I agreed to join you—all I wanted in exchange for helping you, was to be an unbound Omega.” You force yourself to meet his eyes and to not get sucked into the dark tide of them.

“You asked for my protection.” He reminds you.

Your eyes flash this time, heated, a little spark that skitters to life inside of you.

“I didn’t—“

“Is that not what you’d call it?” Suguru asks, “when I interfered, every time, to be sure no other Alpha got to you? Or when I scented you to keep them away?”

Prickling warmth dots your cheeks, can feel at the back of your neck, too, the tips of your ears. You try a different tactic.

“I’m not a homemaker.”

His smile is soft, “I don’t want a homemaker.”

“I’m not obedient.” You counter again, as if you could dissuade Suguru Getou once he’s made up his mind.

“You’ve been quite good for me.” Suguru says smugly and this time, a little noise of embarrassment or frustration eeks out of you. A short, sharp little growl from your throat, almost a groan of irritation.

“I—I’m doing your dirty work. That’s our agreement! You give me assignments that I complete and in return, I get my freedom.”

“I don’t know why you’re so opposed to this. Is it not similar already to what we have now?” He asks simply, “I’d still let you roam, if that’s what you’re so scared of.”

“No it’s that—that power and mentality that I don’t want you to have over me.” You snap.

“I already have it,” he says and it isn’t intended to be cruel, but certainly is, “how long do you think you’d last, without the protection of an Alpha?”

“I didn’t have any before you.”

“You were starving, injured, and constantly on the run before me.” You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “it would still give you what you want.”

“I don’t want to be yours.” You say frankly, perhaps to be cruel yourself. And then you show teeth a little, flash them in warning, “I don’t want your mark.”

Suguru looks amused, if anything, by your display.

His smile is knowing and insufferable. It makes your anger ratchet up inside of you, hackles rising. You feel a little growl working its way out of your throat. It tears out of you in annoyance, when he says, “I don’t believe you.”

You slam the door so hard on its hinges that it rattles the entire wall. You wish it would rattle all the world.

***

Your cursed technique rips to life like a star exploding outwards.

Beast that you are, it overtakes you, transforms you until you are all claws and dripping, little fangs. Your body elongates, elegant, and built for speed, viciousness. The horns atop your head are sharp, too, curled the slightest into a crescent shape. The beast in you stretches and pulls at your bones, fits your skin to it in a way that you have come to know well.

(“Cursed technique: Cursed Creature,” Suguru hums, “allows you to turn into a cursed version of yourself, a sort of,” he pauses, looking you over, “monster?”

“That’s right.” You tell him, body trembling all over, in dire need of food. Care. Sleep.

He places a large hand on top of your head, strokes gently, until his hand nudges your cheek, beneath your chin so you are forced to look up into his eyes. Depthless violet.

“You have a deal.”)

The sorcerer is cast backward with the force of your transformation. In this form, everything heightens, sharpening into brilliance. So much brighter, clearer. So much more overwhelming.

You are a flash of darkness when you move, a mass of lethality.

The sorcerer doesn’t stand a chance, the moment you dash past him with a deep swipe of your claws, you know this will be an easy match. You chitter in this form, excited, warbly little sound erupting from you before you careen towards him again.

This time, he is warped away.

But you are fast, changing your trajectory mid-step to catch up to where he was warped.

Except, this time, a white haired sorcerer takes his place.

Your claws meet air.

A growling hiss erupts from your throat.

Satoru Gojo.

Suguru told you to stay away from him. At all costs.

And speak of the devil, your name is called, whistled almost. Your head turns to find Suguru appearing, too.

Faintly, the more human part of you wonders what the occasion is.

For a moment, all you can see is threat. Your hackles rise as your growling gets lower, more sinister, your form moving behind Gojo as if you might circle him, unable to let down your guard.

“Call off your pet,” Gojo says.

Suguru calls your name again and there’s something else in his tone now, a little sharper.

(Fear, you wonder faintly, in some far away part of your mind. Is he worried Gojo would hurt you?)

You come to heel at Suguru’s side, remaining in this form, making a low, threatening sound still. Warning. Your claws still drip with the blood of that sorcerer.

“Go,” Suguru says to you.

Your head snaps to look at him, eyes narrowing. “I’m not leaving,” you snap and the words have a bite to it, around the curves of your fangs. You look back at Gojo. If this comes to blows, you don’t want Suguru facing Gojo alone–you don’t want to leave his back suddenly unguarded.

It’s counterintuitive to you, goes against all of your instincts. You don’t leave him, you don’t leave his side, his back.

“Go,” Suguru says, harsher this time and the command seeps into you. You waver. And then, “I won’t tell you again.”

When you hiss at him in that warbling way of curses, he smiles faintly, almost fondly, as your teeth drip with venom. But you do listen to him this time.

And with your heightened hearing, you hear Gojo underneath his breath as you slink away;

“How interesting.”

***

When Suguru returns to you, he is unharmed.

You’d paced the length of the hallway outside of his room in the compound until you could have worn a hole into it.

Few would be brave enough to wait for Suguru outside his door.

When he arrives, he is mildly surprised to see you, before his expression melts into a sort of—smugness. A knowing glint to his eyes.

“Why would you send me away?” You snap.

“You could’ve gone in, you know, if it would’ve soothed you.” Suguru says instead, head nodding towards the door to his suite. “Would you like a key?”

You blanche, taking a half step back, “I don’t—“

It allows him to get to his door and open it. You’ve been here before, in the privacy of his suite, but now it feels strange. A little different. He holds the door open for you.

You glance at the threshold and feel as if you’re making an important decision.

“Come on,” he says smoothly and before you can think twice about it, you are being led inside, his hand drifting somewhere near your lower back. He never touches you, the feeling is a phantom one, the impression of it. You shiver a little.

But you round on him again, “why would you send me away?”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, instead he goes rifling in a drawer, digging around a little.

His suite is larger than others. The living room is open and attached is the kitchen. It’s all light wood, with tall windows that overlook the courtyard. You know, despite never being inside, that his bedroom is down the hall and to the left. The bathroom is across from it. You’ve sat many times on the floor of his living room with him, going over assignments, plans that he has, and what he’d like you to do.

When he finds what he’s looking for, he makes a soft noise, before turning to you with a small, gold key.

“I don’t want a key!” You snap.

“It’s a spare, take it just in case.” He replies and when you don’t move to grab it from him, he takes your hand in his much larger one, and opens your palm to him.

He places the key in your hand.

And then his eyes catch yours, “you were worried.”

“No-!” you get out, “I don’t like being—I’m supposed to protect you.”

Suguru smiles, hand still swallowing yours, “isn’t that sweet?” he remarks, “an Omega attempting to protect an Alpha.”

Immediately, you jerk away from him.

The key is still in your shaking fist.

“Don’t start,” you snarl, low and vicious and hurt, “I’ve always been the one at your side.”

“Yes,” he agrees, hand falling back down to his side listlessly. “I already told you that.”

You’ve always been at my side, he’d said, when he was trying to convince you to–

“That’s not what I meant!” Your voice rises without your consent and you feel an embarrassed, angry flush through your face for being so worked up. The room is thick with your worry and anger and frustration, all of your pent up energy like a knot in your chest, in your voice. It’s in your heart and the way you look at him.

“It doesn’t matter what you meant,” Suguru says easily, “it’s still the truth.”

When you slam the door this time, you hear something fall from the wall.

But the key is still in your trembling hand, digging indents into your palm, and your heart is still a beast in your chest.

And behind the closed door, Suguru Getou smiles fondly, and retrieves the fallen, shattered frame from the floor.

***

For a while, you avoid Suguru.

You stuff the key he gave you in your nightstand drawer, far in the back, in an attempt to keep it out of sight and out of your mind.

And at first, you think he is respecting your boundaries; you receive assignments through others from him. You see him only in passing and he never speaks directly to you. He hardly acknowledges you.

But after a week and a half, it begins to feel like punishment.

And the key is starting to burn and itch in your mind. You think about it at night, tossing over in your bed; you think about unlocking his door at this hour. What would you find? Would he be asleep? Awake? Alone? Fully dressed?

You think of him half bare and lounging, hair slipping over his shoulders, and the scent of sandalwood and fig. Tonka or something woodsy, maybe. You know it well and it lingers long after he leaves you.

You suddenly miss it, crave it.

Him.

You twist beneath your sheets.

Why did he have to–

You make a soft noise of frustration, turning over again.

You’re restless.

Something beneath your skin begins to itch and squirm.

Previously, Suguru had hardly mentioned your status as an Omega. He rarely acknowledged it; you were too brilliant of a sorcerer for him to care, you thought. You were too powerful. The only instance he brought it up was to scent you, a form of caution in a particular instance, for a particular mission. The memory still simmers in your mind, the way he’d rubbed the gland on your wrist with a careful thumb. He’d given you clothes of his to wear. He’d had you sit in his quarters for long hours, until it seemed as if you were his, in some way.

But now that he’s actually brought it up, offered you his bite, to be his, it paints him in an entirely different light.

Had he always…wanted you?

Was he always planning this?

The naive, desperate parts of you want to believe this is a recent thought of his. Previous to this, he only ever saw you as another sorcerer, a powerful one that aided him. You had always been one of the closer ones to him, at his heel, his beck and call.

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of Suguru this way; as an Alpha. An unmated one, who kept your company.

And he does, no matter how badly it burns to admit it, protect you.

You know he wards off Alphas.

You know he perhaps does more than even that.

But you don’t want—

You don’t want to be mated.

You don’t want to suddenly be coddled by him, held back, don’t want to be the little thing that keeps his bed warm.

Your face heats with the thought.

Images flash through your mind, flickering, melting together like film that bleeds and runs, of him overtop you. Shrouding you. His hair on your shoulders and back. You think of his mouth on your throat, teeth in your neck.

You rub at your eyes suddenly as if to clear them.

You know he leaves on a mission for a week in two days.

You assume, at some point, he’ll speak to you. And break this strange silence.

You’ll both return to normal then.

And then perhaps you won’t lose any more sleep over him.

***

Suguru never says goodbye to you.

It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does—you just figured he’d finally drop this silly little silence game.

You suppose he must’ve thought the same of you.

Besides, what were you expecting from him? An apology? It’s foolish to even entertain. You knew you weren’t going to apologize either. The least you’ll do, when he returns, is act as if all is normal again. Perhaps it’s better that way, not to address what he’s put in his head recently.

The more you speak of it, or think of it, the worse it unravels in your mind.

On the second day that he is gone, you realize you miss his scent.

You realize it has become such a staple in your everyday life that its sudden disappearance is almost alarming. It makes you more irritable, more vicious. You snap at the others faster, bite out insults and brutalities.

You—

Well, you miss it.

Him, maybe.

The admittance is a hard one to swallow around. It burns going down.

On the third day, you’re genuinely craving his scent in a way that makes your teeth ache. You had no idea you could even miss a scent like this, need it so bad that your body would betray you with a physical pain in your chest. Somewhere in your mouth, under your tongue.

You try to ignore it.

You go on with your life.

But by the fifth day, you are agitated and aggressive. Everyone knows something is wrong with you. You know something is wrong with you. You can feel it beneath your skin, crawling, squirming. It makes you want to tear out your hair, rip at your nails, or sink your teeth into something. You’re restless.

You can’t sleep.

You can hardly eat or think.

And as you lay awake in your bed, kicking at sheets, sweating and twisting, you know what it is you need.

You’ve known the whole week.

You throw back the covers and wrench open your bedside drawer.

The key rattles, hot, like it knows it’s finally about to be used. It’s musical sound a siren song, it’s been burning away in there the whole week.

You swipe it and turn sharply from your bedroom. From your own apartment.

It’s the middle of the night; not a soul sees you in the compound.

Like a person possessed, you walk. Your back is straight. Your steps are quick. Your mind is set, on fire.

Suguru’s door has haunted you the whole week.

The key in your hand digs into the flesh, carving it’s divots there like your hand might be the lock itself.

You try not to think about it–you unlock the door. You throw it open.

You shut it behind you, slide the lock back into place.

Darkness greets you.

You wander in like you know the place (you do, you do–)

You wander in like it’s yours to wander in.

Instantly, something loosens inside of you.

You exhale hard.

Inhale sharp.

The smell of him, fainter because he’s been gone, assaults your senses, sweeps over them. You take in a lungful like gasping for air, you smell faint traces of fig and sandalwood. Notes of tonka that you long for, that urge you to move deeper into his space.

In the dark, you make your way down the hall, towards his bedroom.

You haunt the arch for a moment.

Guilt or regret or embarrassment almost seize you. They make you pause.

Some sane part of you is clawing at your insides, wailing to turn around and leave. Leave now.

But he gave you a key.

He gave you a key, you think in circles, again and again. He gave me a key.

You cross the threshold.

You sink down into his bed and his scent is strongest here, even still, after several days it’s his.

You turn over the covers to get beneath them, cool sheets against your legs, sliding and smooth. You turn your face into his pillow and inhale.

A soft little groan works it’s way out of you.

Instantly, your muscles slacken.

Everything leeches from you; your anger and irritation and restlessness.

It soothes you so deeply and so swiftly it makes your head spin.

You curl beneath his blankets and take deep pulls of breath, squirming a moment if only to bring his scent tighter around you. You envelope yourself in it.You shroud yourself in it.

And finally, after five days of restless nights, you fall asleep almost instantly.

Not a single dream. Not one moment where you wake or stir.

You sleep deeply.

In the morning, the sun warms you through the broad windows like a content cat.

You stretch lazily like one, too.

Suguru will be home tomorrow.

You know you need to leave his bed, hope that your scent dissipates by the time he returns.

You didn’t do anything wrong, you know—he gave you a key.

He gave you a key.

But rather, you know he would never let you live it down. He would use it instantly, as ammunition for his argument, the debate that the two of you keep circling.

You don’t quite leave as quickly as you should still, though:

You linger.

You’re comfortable.

Calmed for the first time all week.

And when you do slip out, it’s silently, locking the door behind you.

Like maybe you won’t ever let yourself back in there, trying to shut it like it was a one time indulgence and gone now from your mind and body.

But his scent clings to you.

And little do you know, your scent clings to his sheets—and to Suguru, it’s sweet as can be and unmistakable—irreplaceable.

He collapses in his own bed when he returns and knows you’ve been all over it. He can smell the crush of dark berries, jasmine, the soothing note of vanilla that clings to you, that he’s come to adore.

He grins to himself and knows then, he’s got you right where he wants you.

***

For a moment, you think Suguru is going to make you be the bigger person and apologize upon his return.

Instead, he finds you.

And he doesn’t say he’s sorry for his recent behavior, but he does say;

“I’d prefer if you didn’t avoid me in the future.”

It feels like sorry enough.

And for some time, things return to a state of normal.

A version of it.

It isn’t quite like it was before—in fact, you seem to spend more time around him than previously. He calls on you more. He brings you into his space more frequently, often urging you to eat with him, beside him, at his table.

This is ideal for you. Close but not too close.

Although, he begins to ask, don’t you have your key? Can’t you let yourself in?

You say you haven’t used it.

He hums like he knows differently, but doesn’t press you.

Until finally he asks you to retrieve a notebook in his study and bring it to him.

Fetch, he says.

“It’s locked, isn’t it?”

“You have your key.” He answers simply, not looking up from the book he is reading.

For a moment, you almost protest, but something stops you. Maybe the twitch in his brow.

It’s a useless argument to pick, anyways.

You do have a key.

It would be fastest, easiest, to just use it.

So you do.

And you hand him the notebook he asked for, fingers brushing against his as he takes it from you with gentle hands.

“Thank you,” he adds, voice so smooth and low, almost tempting.

You swallow a little.

Then you quickly avert your gaze.

“Whatever,” you grouse, but he smiles fondly, amused.

And it opens another door, more than just the one to his suite.

***

Tentatively, you begin to come and go.

The first (second) time you use your key to enter without his order, he is careful not to react to you any differently than how he usually does.

His eyes brighten a little, though, like a leopard that’s caught something interesting in its sights and is waiting to see what it’ll do.

Still, you grow more comfortable entering his space on your own.

You claim portions of it; a corner of the couch. A particular cushion around his low table. All of the sunny patches in his suite become yours, scented with you, indented with you. More than that, some horrible, hidden part of you adores that your scent is all over his space.

It’s comforting to find it beside his scent.

It soothes a part of you that you don’t wish to admit to.

His hands grow bolder.

Now they’re always hovering at the small of your back, the nape of your neck. He tucks strands of your hair away from your face and though you jerk away from him, it’s often half-hearted. You snip at him and he only smiles.

Pleased. Smug. Knowing.

His hands guide you as you walk beside him.

You grow accustomed to his touch in some way—he makes sure of it.

Then, as if to prove something—

Another cult member begins to cause trouble with you; he is another Omega. He begins with snide comments and remarks that test your patience. He doesn’t stop until you are growling and bristled and ready for a fight.

And all it takes to stop you is Suguru’s large hand coming down on the nape of your neck.

His thumb rests atop one scent gland at your throat, fingertips pressing delicately into the one on the other side. Hand wrapped around the back of your neck.

“Easy,” he murmurs and just like that, you can feel some of your aggression slip from you, deflate like a balloon.

It’s involuntary, the energy and anger unspooling from your body in an instant. In the back of your mind, you’re alarmed; how easily it was for him to effect you. It’s terrifying.

You swat his hand away, lurching from him, another little growl in your throat.

But you don’t fight him or the look in his eyes, the way he tilts his chin up in the barest hint of dominance.

You storm off.

Instances as such continue to happen, though, where he’s able to sooth or quell your temperament with a touch. A word. A look.

It comes to a head while you’re eating dinner with him.

“You’re so wound up,” Suguru comments lightly, “your scent is so sharp with it. What’s bothering you?”

Reflexively, you snap, “you are.”

And it’s meant to be some sort of insult but Suguru’s lips twist into this hitched little smile. “It’s my fault you’re wound up?” He asks lightly.

“Don’t twist my words.” You respond, fixing him with a glare, “you bother me.”

He’s still deeply amused by this, you can tell by the twinkle in his eyes. The smug way he holds himself.

“Would you like me to help you?” He asks.

“No,” you say reflexively.

A beat of silence before he says, “come here. I’ll help you.”

There’s a command in his voice, laced there, and doing something strange to your head.

You hesitate.

He pounces, “just a massage.” He soothes, “I can tell your shoulders are knotted up and tense. I can see it.”

His voice has dropped into that soothing lull.

Warily, “away from my glands?”

He smiles, “of course.” And then, “come here.”

Your body moves easily now and he murmurs, “sit in front of me. Back to me—there, that’s it.”

It feels more vulnerable than it should to show your back to him, to sit in front of him like a child to their mother. You try to keep your posture straight and careful.

But then he sets large, warm hands to your shoulders. His fingers dig into the meat of them gently, pressing into your muscles which spasm and twitch in pain. You yelp, jerking away.

Suguru tsks, “see how tense you are? You’re in pain.” He scolds softly and you feel heat smart across your face, “sit still for me. I’ll be gentler.”

True to his word, he eases up, fingers careful as they run into your tense muscles.

He finds bundles of twisted up tension in your back and shoulders, pressing into them until a noise springs from you—a groan, a whimper, a little growl. He works the sounds out of you. You swear he’s doing it deliberately and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was all just to humiliate you a little.

But you finally loosen and slacken for him.

When you finally sink into his hands, he murmurs, “I don’t know why you fight this so badly.”

You let go of a heavy sigh, “you do know why. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Because you’re stubborn?” Suguru asks lightly and you snort, despite yourself, “because you don’t know what’s good for you?”

“You’re no good for me.” You respond.

Suguru’s turn to sigh and if he digs his fingers in to make you yip in pain, he’d never say it was purposeful.

Reflexively, you jerk away from his touch, you turn to look at him over your shoulder with a sneer.

“I’m not a pet.”

Suguru does not heed your warning and instead gently pulls you back towards him by your waist.

“No?” He asks lightly, fingers resuming their steady massage. You go completely still like prey, unsure, wary. Angry. Humiliated. “It’s not a bad thing to be a pet. You’re thinking about it all wrong.”

His fingers ease up towards your neck and you stiffen again.

“Suguru,” you say in warning as he nears your scent glands. Perhaps to what he’s said.

“You’re my pet now,” he continues, “though you don’t like to admit it. It’s not so bad, is it?”

Stubbornly, you don’t answer him.

But after a moment, you say, “if I’m already yours, why do you need this last bit of me? If you already see me as your pet, why do you want me so terribly, in this way—“

Suguru suddenly pulls you back deeper, into his lap, against his chest.

You squirm, but he holds you tight, hooks his chin over your shoulder.

Alarm bells ring frantically in your head now that he’s so close to the glands in your throat.

“Don’t play dumb,” Suguru muses, half-mocking, “it doesn’t suit you.”

“Let me go,” you snarl low and hot.

“What are you scared of?” Suguru responds, “that I’d trap you? If you’d take my Bite, I’d let you roam further than I do now. You’d be safe.”

“Liar,” you hiss, “I’m not dumb.”

“I’m not trying to stifle you, I’m trying to set you free.” Suguru almost purrs and his voice is warm and low and creeping up over your spine and trying to find its way inside you.

You begin to squirm this time, thrashing in his hold until you manage to wriggle free, falling forward onto your hands and knees.

Instinctively, you turn to keep your back protected, scrambling away from him. You bare your teeth at him.

“I don’t believe you.”

He watches this show of aggression with amusement, tilting his head slightly. And then he sighs, “I don’t think anything I say will convince you at this point.”

You narrow your eyes at the tone. Your hackles rise.

In an instant, he has grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you back to him.

Underneath him.

You shove hard at him, twisting and fighting as he settles himself over you.

You realize how solid he is, how strong, and large. He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Suguru,” you hiss at him, pushing as hard as you can on his chest.

“See how easy it was for me to subdue you?” He says then, voice smooth and low. “If I wanted to take you, I simply would’ve already. You’re no challenge to me; if I wanted to trap you, I would’ve.”

“Get off me!”

You thrash hard beneath him and in an instant, he has your hands uselessly pinned above your head, stretching you out beneath him.

His nose dips, near the scent gland at your throat. You squirm.

He squeezes your wrists, “stop squirming.” He murmurs low, “or my instinct will be to bite.”

Your stomach does a horrible flip, a flutter of—fear, excitement.

“Just—get off—leave me alone!” You get out, voice high and tight. You try not to arch away from the way he lets his face fall to the crook of your neck.

“Hush,” Suguru hisses, nudging his nose beneath your ear.

He’s scenting you.

He’s done this before and despite everything in you, you finally go slack. You force yourself not to tilt your head or offer up more, rather let him urge you into the way that he prefers.

He nudges his cheek and nose against your jaw. He lets out a relieved breath, fitting more of his body to you and you feel the push of chest into yours, his hips.

You squirm a little and a growl erupts from his throat.

You fight back the sound that almost works its way out of you now, swallow around it.

When he’s finished, he asks, “would you like to scent me?” And instinctively, you want to say yes, but you temper yourself. Then he adds, “I’m sending you away on a mission alone. I’ll be scenting you until the day you leave now.”

You catch his eyes, glinting.

“So, I thought it only fair if you’d like to scent me, too.”

You don’t know why, but something squirms inside of you, something a little hurt.

“You’re sending me away?”

Suguru hums softly, “I need you to take care of something for me. I only trust you to do it.”

You flex your hands a little in his hold, but he doesn’t budge.

He nudges at your jaw again, gentle, and murmurs, “this would be easier if you’d take my mark.”

You turn your head then to shield your throat, and face him. His nose nearly brushes yours and you look up at him through your lashes. You bite your tongue from any further complaints, dipping down to the crux of his throat now.

Easily, perhaps eagerly, he bares his throat for you.

Satisfaction erupts beneath your skin as his scent washes over you, dark fig and oud, sandalwood and musk. Carefully, your nose runs along the column of his throat.

“I’m not even—“ you huff, retry, “I haven’t had a Heat in—it wouldn’t take, anyways.”

“Ah,” Suguru says and you wish you hadn’t told him at all. Realization dawns over his features the way a cat might realize it’s caught its mouse beneath its paws. “Is this what you’re so scared of?”

“No—I prefer it this way. It’s another reason that you can’t. It wouldn’t work.” You say stubbornly and perhaps in your irritation, you burrow further down into the crook of his neck, tuck your cheek to his skin to nudge.

“I could give you a temporary one,” he murmurs, “I’d let you do the same in return, of course.”

You go quiet, brushing your lips against his skin, hesitating.

“I don’t need it.” You finally decide, even as you let the blunt side of a tooth nick gently against his neck. “I can protect myself.” You pull away to look at him again, “am I not one of your strongest?”

“You are my strongest.” He agrees, he praises. “But am I not also strong?” He asks, “and yet you still insist on protecting me.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he takes your chin in hand suddenly, words dying before they can escape.

“You are my strongest.” He says, “I would like the world to be aware of it.”

“I told you, I don’t want to be yours–”

“Then stop protecting me. Flee. Run away and never return.” Suddenly, his touch, his body, all of him is gone. He rolls off of you and onto his back beside you. Cold air sweeps in. You can feel his touch like burning imprints on your skin.

You turn your head to the side to look at him.

“You would hunt me down if I ran.”

A flicker of a smile ghosts his face.

“And if I ran from you?” He asks, “if I discarded you?”

Something twists so viciously and sharply in your chest that your eyes sting with it. You lock your jaw tight. You stare up at the ceiling.

“You refuse to speak but your scent is spiced with distress, sour with despair.” He turns to look at you, “not so easy to hear, is it?”

“I can’t stand you or your games.” You get out.

“There are no games.” He says evenly, “only the one you’re playing with yourself.”

You scoff, “which is?”

He sits up slightly, over you, looking down at you, the inky silk of his dark hair sliding over one shoulder.

“Seeing how long you can outrun what you want.”

You exhale roughly, in exasperation, and then you ask dryly, “and what do I want, Suguru?”

“To be taken care of.”

“I don’t need–”

He cuts off your growl before it can start, taking your chin in hand to turn your head towards him once more. “You never have, but it doesn’t mean you can’t want it.”

“I don’t want it either.” You snap. “You have some grand delusion of me in your mind that I am some weak, submissive creature in need of your care.”

“I’ve said none of that, have I?” He hums. “Now you’re twisting my words, being purposefully churlish–in hopes of, what? To scare me off?”

His palm opens up against your jaw, your cheek. His thumb touches your bottom lip.

“You snap and you snarl and posture as some ferocious, independent creature to scare everyone off. I don’t blame you–I am certain you protected yourself many times this way from lesser people.” His voice is soft, almost a lull, you allow his palm to open against your lips, to turn your face into the cup of his hands. “You don’t believe anyone can handle you and you hope if you bite hard enough, tear into them, they’ll run off. And then you’ll feel vindicated; you were right, you are too much to handle. You were right, you are a monster. You’re unworthy of care or companionship or protection.”

His hand moves upward, baring his wrist to your mouth now, “go on,” he encourages, “bite me. As hard as you like. Scream and cry and tear into me. Loathe me and scorn me.” He leans closer, over you, as he hushes like a mother to their child, “I’ll still be here, with the rings of your teeth marks littered in my skin. I’ll be the only one, bruised and bloody, still taking care of you–no matter how badly you fight me.”

Out of anger or frustration or something else entirely, tears prick your eyes. As if to hide them, you open your mouth against his wrist, gentle first–warm and soft lips and tongue. He looks enraptured. He looks starving.

You sink your teeth into his skin viciously.

He hisses in pain, sharp, but doesn’t pull away. “There,” he coos, leaning over you, sinking into the pain, “is that what you wanted?”

Blood bursts into your mouth in a way that is almost startling, sharp and metallic. It should be gross and horrible and–you whine a little, somewhere in the back of your throat and bear down harder.

If that’s what he promises, you’ll make him prove it.

If he wants to be the one beside you, you’ll make him pay.

He leans down to kiss at your cheeks, gentle, humming. You realize there are tears. Your jaw aches.

But you don’t let go and he doesn’t even flinch.

“Does that feel better? To get your teeth into someone who isn’t scared of you?” He murmurs, nudging at your tense jaw, kissing there. “Shall I do the same to you?”

You release his wrist and shove him off, hard enough that he gives and he goes.

You stand up and storm out of his chambers, slamming the door on its hinges as hard as you can. You hope it knocks over every painting on his walls. You hope the entire compound somehow hears it. You hope it breaks something in the same way that something has been broken open inside of you.

You wipe his blood from your mouth with the back of your hand.

Suguru doesn’t even bandage the wound. And he wears his sleeves high, so that all the world might see it.

#suguru getou x reader #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru getou x you #getou suguru x you #suguru geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #cw: omegaverse #cw: yandere #cielo writes!#cielo's writing!

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respectthepetty · 1 day

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This is gonna sound very weird but I hope as we go on with the show you won't stop making posts about how much you love Ming's toxic ass cause they make me laugh and I'll need them when in the future I'll feel the urge to somehow strangle Ming through the screen. No pressure but please help a girl in need if you can!

You're writing to the person who is openly praying that Ming gets worse (amen), so I am not one to call others weird.

Something about those who live in a glass house shouldn't throw stones, you know?

Because, once again, I want Ming to be awful to Joe, and only Joe, which I know is kind of weird of me, but I'm just too happy to care.

A few people have commented that Ming will get worse, and I'm giddy from the mere thought of it, so I'll be here all season being unhealthy about Ming's behavior.

Because in the first episode, he was awful, which I LOVED, and I don't think some people really see just how bad he was simply because he is being played by Up, which was a brilliant move by casting, so I love that the show directly told us he is a nightmare, and we could judge all his actions accordingly.

Regardless of Tong's fake personality, Ming just showed up at the set without any warning and ambushed Tong at his job

Ming only wants to eat alone with Tong, and it's of course because he likes Tong, but he even hung up on his sister mid-conversation after she threw him a little welcome back surprise (sidenote: I think he and his sister might be similar personality-wise because her call while Tong was eating with Ming was convenient)

Ming doesn't tell Joe his name or how he got Joe's number

He called Joe drunk and obviously pissed off, then snapped at the staff for being shocked by his behavior

He doesn't tell Joe he thinks of him, but instead reversed Joe's statement to point out that Joe thinks of him

He doesn't compromise

And none of these have to do with sex and Ming wanting to fuck Joe because he looks like Tong because Ming's toxicity isn't just about sex.

This is about how meek Ming is around Tong

Compared to how aggressive he is with Joe.

Pushing Joe down and standing over him, which in the heat of the moment doesn't seem like much.

But Joe took Ming to his house because Ming told him to. Joe doesn't eat instead opting to watch Ming eat. Joe lets Ming spend the night because Ming asked. Joe gets on the bed because Ming tells him to. Joe goes to Ming when called. Joe bottoms because Ming wants him to. Joe does everything Ming wants.

With Tong, Ming can't control anything, but with Joe . . .

Ming's gonna control everything.

Or at least that's what I'm hoping!

So I'll be here all season, cheering every single time Ming does something truly fucked up because he is going about his issues in the worst way by trying to exert dominance on a stand-in of Tong since he is weak for the real Tong until he ends up regretting it once he loses Joe and tries to replace old Joe with new Jo which restarts the vicious cycle that began this entire shit show in the first place! *deep breath*

God, I'm so happy!

#my stand in #my stand in the series #I'm here for Ming's toxicity #please be worse babe #do it for me #it makes me so happy

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bitethedevil · 2 days

Text

Rambling about Raphael again: I’m getting more and more convinced that stealing from Raphael is an asshole move no matter what.

I just killed Raphael for the first time yesterday. I had gotten the scene where he comes home before but that was way back in my first playthrough and I chickened out back then. The battle itself was awesome, don’t get me wrong but it felt…unsatisfying? Sad even.

I’m obviously not excusing anything he’s done to Hope, but we don’t really know anything about Hope before we have already taken the decision to go to his house.

I found something in the House of Hope that I hadn’t seen before (it’s on the ground in the main area where the fireplace is iirc):

Like yeah, we know that we don’t really need the Orphic Hammer if we’ve played the game before and all that. But does Raphael? It seems like he genuinely thinks it’s a fair trade. Dude lives in the Hells. I’m sure he really does expect the worst from people (especially someone like the Emperor). So he offers us a deal that he really believes is fair, and what do we do? We go robbing his house, fucks/kills his incubus, meddles in his business and essentially spits him in the face. Bonus asshole points if the last thing you ever say to him is that he’s a shit at sex.

Raphael is evil, no doubt, but he hasn’t really done anything to us. If you don’t take the deal, he simply leaves you alone (unless you refuse the Emperor in the end…in which he essentially calls you a dumbass but still helps if I remember correctly) even though that deal is the closest he’s been to the crown in millennia.

Which brings me to his reaction. Obviously, he seems angry right before the fight, but mostly I got the feeling of a man who has been utterly humiliated. His quote that went along the lines of: “Take away their free will and they’ll call you a tyrant. Let them indulge in it and they become tyrants” is kind of stuck with me. I think that Raphael could have potentially treated us a lot worse if he wanted to, but he chose not to (obviously that’s also to get us to trust him, but still). Which is why it stings even more when we fuck him over.

Think about his diary entries. The man has nightmares about us besting him. Imagine how stupid he must feel when that fear turns out to be true and that he shouldn’t have trusted us to keep our word.

#ranting #raphael the cambion #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael

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avtrxxx · 20 hours

Note

Neteyam keep his little human in a cage and feeds her his cock through the bars 🙏

My little pet

Neteyam x female human reader (aged up)

A/n: Sooo... I wanted to write smut for a while now and I finally got the chance! Love you anonie <3

Warnings: blowjob, mentions of kidnapping, dom/sub

🔞Minors do not interact!🔞

Cold bars against the thin skin on your back, making you feel all cold. Your bottom lip trembled and your hands shook, eye lids barely staying open anymore. The lack of food was making its appearance since this morning, your stomach growling every now and then.

Neteyam loved you more than you knew, more than you expected. He was obsessed with you. You were the prettiest little thing he had ever laid his eyes on. The first time your intoxicating scent invaded his nose, he knew you were meant to be his.

So, over time he tried getting closer to you. He always brought you cooked meat after every hunt and when he came back from a long trip, he brought you satchels full of beautiful colored stones. He even started courting you but you didn't know.

You were the lab kid who never put a foot outside. So when he started bringing you those things and handmade jewelry, you thought he was just acting nice and was a good friend. But in reality, he was trying to get to your heart, whether you wanted it or not.

That's how you found yourself naked, sitting in a cage for two weeks. He fed you regularly but when you talked back to him, he punished you by giving you too much or he simply didn't feed you for that day.

What you told him the last day angered him very much. You had the guts to shout at him, and told him how much you hate being trapped with him. He didn't allow you to eat or drink anything since then, and your fight took place yesterday morning. You haven't had something go down your throat for more than 24 hours.

Suddenly, the door cracked open and Neteyam entered, his long legs carrying him to you. Neteyam crouched down next to your cage, looking down at you. He slid his large hand through the bars from above you and caressed your head, his fingers lost in your hair. You hated him with all your heart but something about his touch was so... soothing.

"Poor little thing... Your master didn't let you eat, did he? He's such a bad guy." Neteyam mocked you, his fingers rubbing your scalp.

Your eyes burned holes into his skull but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. You just wanted it all to end but he wouldn't let you go, not before you accept being his mate. And even if you did, he'd still be careful. He wouldn't want his little pet to run away.

"You're my little pet. You know that, right? No one else deserves you but me, my love. Your heart beats for me, you live for me." his gentle voice entered your mind, his sweet words making you fall deeper and deeper into his trap.

But he enjoyed seeing you so helpless and in need of help. After all, he was the only one who could help you right now. He was the only one who could make you feel vulnerable and proud of yourself, your mood depending on his.

A growl was heard from your stomach and Neteyam didn't let that go unnoticed. He chuckled and changed his position, standing on his knees.

"Looks like my pet is hungry." Neteyam moved his loincloth to the side, and his erect cock sprung free, slapping against his lower abdomen.

You still couldn't get over his length. The size of his cock was something that always amazed you, but it also frightened you. Since he kidnapped you, he gave it to you non-stop but every time felt like the first time over and over again.

Neteyam wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few strokes before he came closer. Neteyam wrapped the chain that was holding you tied to the floor of the cage by your neck around his forearm, dragging you closer. He pointed his cock your way, aligning it with your mouth. The tip leaked with precum, wetting your lips.

You wanted to pull away but his grip was too strong, and the bagging on the chains brought pain in your neck and wrists.

"Come on, pet. Take a taste. I know you're hungry." Neteyam smirked down at you, sliding his cock past your lips. He moaned at the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his cock.

He thrusted in deeper, and deeper, till his tip was hitting the back of your throat. He knew he couldn't fit all of himself inside your small mouth, but it was worth the try.

He started moving slowly, and his eyes rolled back as he pulled the chain harder. You struggled with his size, trying to keep your head in place as he fucked your mouth though he bars.

"Shit! You feel so good, little pet." He moaned, thrusting harder into your mouth. Your gag reflexes activated and you choked around him, trying to spit him out. But he simply wouldn't let you.

"Stop trying to run away. You're staying here with me, whether you like it or not." he rolled his hips into your mouth, feeling himself getting closer.

"Mm~...look how well you're taking me. Like this mouth of yours was made for my cock." he pulled the chain harder, making you hit your face right into the bars as he ravaged your throat.

"Fuuck... I'm so close." he finally shot his load down your throat, still not letting you go. You felt your mouth get filled with his cum. You didn't need to think twice and swallowed his seed, hoping to get all of it. He kept thrusting his hips into your face, riding his own high. Your nose met his pubic bone with every stroke and you couldn't help but inhale deeply. His scent was so musky and manly that you wanted it to be your oxygen.

He pulled out of your mouth and let go of the chain, watching you fall on your back. You were gasping for air, your lungs aching. Fortunately, you managed to swallow even the last drop of his seed. You weren't afraid of what was to happen if you didn't but you WANTED to swallow it all.

"Such a good girl I got for myself." Neteyam chuckled, a smirk planted on his lips. He eyed your tired form and without a second thought, he took the key from the pocket of his cock. He approached the locker and put the key inside before he rolled it to the side.

You watched as the locker fell from the gate of your cage and Neteyam's large hands opened it, inviting you outside. You laid in there for a moment before he took hold of the chain and pulled you out forcefully.

He grabbed you by your neck and kissed you, his large hand almost cutting off your circulation. His tongue swirled around yours, sucking on it before he let go. You moaned into the kiss and gripped at his broad shoulders, drawing him closer.

He pulled back from the kiss, a line of saliva connecting your lips to his. His yellow eyes looked into yours, now swallowed by the darkness of his pupils. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, collecting your mixed spit.

"You look so pretty like this. All mine." he whispered in a deep voice, lust written all over his face. You felt yourself getting wetter at his voice.

"But you have to stay mine. You have to stay in your cage until you get my trust again." your eyes widened as you froze on the spot. You thought you made him happy and proud enough to finally set you free. But you were wrong...so wrong.

Slowly, Neteyam got hold of your chain and dragged you back into your cage. He closed the gate behind you and locked it with the key, dropping it in his loincloth after. You were looking up at him with your sad eyes and pout, begging him for some mercy.

"Aww, don't cry. I'll be back later." he said, caressing your head one more time before he left the abandoned building, leaving you alone too.

#neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fic #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x reader #neteyam avatar #neteyam #neteyam angst #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x human #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam scenario #neteyam smut

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nyoomiin · 2 days

Text

roommates: part eleven.

your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)

pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader

tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure

prev. masterlist. next.

“Can't even look me in the face?” Kunikuzushi sneers. It's biting, that tone. “This is getting ridiculous.”

He stands between you and the hallway, preventing you from rushing into your room the moment you return home — a habit you had picked up on recently. It's shameful, you know. You really wish you talked it out with him earlier, but you had avoided him on pure instinct the first time you saw him and just couldn't stop.

A muttered excuse tumbles out of your lips, but it trails off, and you're left staring at him like a fool.

“I'm sorry,” you say softly, hesitantly meeting his gaze.

His arms are crossed, his brows drawn. He looks more hurt than the furious he portrays himself to be. His next words are said with stormy eyes and through gritted teeth. “I never pegged you down as the cowardly type.”

It stings, but he’s right, even if he was being rather harsh about it. You couldn't run away from it forever.

He sighs, letting his arms fall, and you watch as he brushes past you, heading for the door. Then, he pauses, turning to look at you.

“Come on,” he tells you impatiently, head cocked to the side. “What are you waiting for? I know a quiet place to talk.”

He spares you not a glance as you walk, always a step ahead as he leads you along the way. You follow him curiously, out of the city, up and down the winding paths of the forest, on a cobblestone path that turns to soil and then grass.

Crisp breeze tousles his hair, his cape flowing behind him, and starlight dusts his figure a shimmering glow. For all that it is worth, you think he looks simply angelic.

“We’re almost there,” he says, interrupting the silence.

We better be, you huff. You've been walking for ages now, and you've certainly had enough time to think over what you’d say to him.

You reach a cliff's edge, overlooking the city and the endless twilight beyond. Damn, you think. It's been a while since you've been this far out.

He sits before you do, legs dangling in the air, chin tilted up towards the skies. You lie on the grass instead, head propped up by an arm. You try not to think about how one wrong move would send you tumbling all the way down.

You tell yourself Kuni would catch you if you did.

For a second, everything is still. His eyes flutter shut, and you watch as he relaxes, as if letting something fall away. For a second, you can pretend that nothing has happened, that nothing has changed, and that you were just a dressmaker and he was just your roommate. And for a second, you entertain a ridiculous thought. You wish that you could stay in this moment forevermore.

You can't, you think. For you still had a lifetime to live.

“Will you start from the beginning?” you ask him softly.

His eyes flicker open, turning to face you almost lazily. He has a way of turning fear into confidence, you learn. He huffs. “As if you don't know the story of my creation.”

You pout. “But I want to hear it again. Pretty please?”

He relents with a sigh, and you cheer.

… It gets dark really, really fast.

“Dottore, that lunatic… He spins a ludicrous tale of how Niwa had killed you for your heart, then fled out of guilt.” Kuni's tone drips with derision, and you can tell part of that derision is directed at himself.

You shift closer to him, frowning faintly. “You couldn't have known.”

He scoffs, and to that, he says nothing.

“Ashes,” he murmurs, gaze a thousand miles away. “There was nothing left but ashes.”

You gasp, letting out a soft cry. Poor kid. Poor Kunikuzushi. Did he never get a break?

The night draws colder as you learn about the centuries Kuni — now named Scaramouche, had lived. Your eyes burn with stifled tears as you can only imagine how someone so pure was lost to time, devoured by wrath and woe, bitterness and venom.

“You should have seen me then,” he tells you, a wry smile spread across his face. “You would have hated it.”

You shake your head in protest. “I wouldn't have. Well, I mean… I would've stayed by your side, at least.”

Surely that counted for something?

“Don’t make me laugh. Someone like you could never survive an organisation like the Fatui,” he retorts. Somehow, you have the feeling he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. “You would have stayed, even if ‘Kunikuzushi’ was no more? Even if you are hurt endlessly?”

His eyes are electrifying, challenging. His face is set in the way he expects you to laugh and take back your words, in the way he expects you to say you'd leave after all. You scowl right back, resolve firm.

“Even then.”

He lets out a sharp breath of a laugh.

“I reached out for the Gnosis,” he says, and there's something tight in his tone, strained with a certain kind of grief. “Then, I fell.”

You gape. Utterly flabbergasted. What. The. Fuck.

“And you — I — How are you not dead…?”

“Don't be stupid,” he harrumphs, as if he had not fallen from twenty meters in the air. As if he had not hit the ground, as if he had not been scared and frantic and desperate. “I would never be so pathetic as to die from something like that.”

Studying him silently, you sigh, brows drawn with worry. He lies on the ground next to you after he had gotten sick of looking down at you, and he's so close you can hear every breath he takes. He had survived, that you know. How else would he be here before you, alive and well?

Still…

“Did it hurt?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Only for a second.”

You roll over closer to him, and he doesn't seem to mind when you squish against his side. “So, I've been curious,” you say. “Why were you so agitated that day? Y'know, the last day I saw you before I…”

His nose scrunches.

“Oh, then?” he laughs. It is a rather hollow laugh. “Vermin who didn’t know their place decided to cause a ruckus, is all.”

You sigh, letting both the matter and your head drop. It’s obvious he will not elaborate on it further. Maybe he’ll tell you another day.

He ends his tale rather anti-climatically, brushing off his entire life as if it were simply a pain to deal with. You remain silent, apprehensive and contemplative. You had lived a whole different life, and a whole different timeline had come and gone and now, you were one of the only people in the world that remembered it still.

He takes your silence the wrong way. Looking terribly unamused, he smirks, cocking his head. “Well, what will you do now? Maybe if you beg, that meddlesome god will wipe your memories for you once more.”

“Archons, who do you think I am? If anything, this means you’re stuck with me now,” you tell him snootily, smacking his head.

It’s kind of poetic, isn’t it? That not even death could do you part? You had liked him then and you liked him now, and there’s a small part of you that thinks you would have liked him even when he was stained with hell. Perhaps one day, this like would turn into love as well.

Whatever the case, and in one way or another, he was yours now.

“You’re a moron,” he scoffs, lips quirked up into a half-smile.

You grin. “And you’re a bitch.”

(“‘m sorry I was avoiding you,” you murmur drowsily, “I didn’ mean to…”

He glances at you just as your head lolls against his side, fast asleep. His useless heart has the gall to stutter.

The both of you had talked until day breaks, and it is when the horizon is painted pink that your fatigue catches up with you. How weak, he muses, resisting the urge to poke at your cheek. To think mortals needed something as redundant as sleep.

You’d have to continue your conversation another day, then, seeing as how you were in no shape to do so now. There were still many things he had to discuss with you.

Standing, he dusts himself off, ready to head home. He looks down at you. A beat passes. Then, he huffs, lugging you onto his back.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he mutters under his breath. Humans were weak, especially someone like you. You’d certainly fall ill if he were to leave you alone, out in the open like this. Maybe even deathly ill. “You can’t pay your half of the rent if you’re dead.”

So, you’d owe him for this. Hmph.)

taglist. (send an ask to be added.)

@franaby @dragontammerz @ainnofinway @sketcheeee @briluvspnk @bunniicantsleep @featuredtofu @tragedy-of-commons @parkjayssi @xiaosantenna @idontevenknow129 @bfajax @mostlymoth @thenyxsky @kiyiiaarchived @skyvella @theautisticduck @someonealreadyhadmynickname @wanderersumbrella @im-just-here-for-the-coffee

#—stellaronhvnters.#scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin #scaramouche #NOW ITS JS THE EPILOGUE LEFT THANK THE LORDS

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itsbuckytm · 1 day

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The Couch / Dean Winchester

summary: Dean and you had always harbored a fondness for each other, which became evident one night on Jody's couch when he found a way to express it during Jody's intervention at the dinner table.

ps: english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors

xo'

Jody had extended an invitation for dinner to the three of you. What neither of the boys knew was that this casual gathering swiftly transformed into an intervention, with Claire and Alex joining in. As you observed them enjoying the meal, a sense of unease crept in, heightened when Jody broached the topic of protection. Suddenly, Sam, Dean, and you found yourselves choking on your food, taken aback. "Um, excuse me?" Dean was the first to break the tense silence.

"You heard correctly," Jody's expression bore the gravity that none of you dared to challenge. With precision, she redirected the conversation to how she had stumbled upon unsettling items in Alex's bag. While acknowledging the discomfort of confronting such matters, being a girl also meant being privy to them, and a part of you felt relief knowing that Alex and Claire had Jody for these discussions—a resource you lacked.

In reality, it was Dean who helped you lose your virginity. "Helped" was an understatement; even in your mid-twenties, the notion of waiting for marriage felt long overdue. The memory was vivid: in the dead of night, with Sam in a deep slumber in the other side of the living room. Sleep eluded you, and with Dean nearby due to staying at Jody's, the proximity intensified. Coupled with your nearing ovulation, it was evident your libido was peaking. You were undeniably aroused, yet with the boys constantly present, suppressing any gesture or moan became a challenge, particularly when Dean's eyes cracked open slightly.

Dean observed the entire scene discreetly. He noticed your arm beneath the covers, your hips shifting, and your breath growing heavier. What he didn't realize was that he too felt the same arousal stirring within him. His shaft hardened, and he couldn't resist the urge to grasp it, seeking gratification in the moment. It was then that your eyes met, hesitation lingering before you confessed to him that you had never experienced sex before. To Dean's delight, he vowed to ensure that the experience would be memorable not just for him, but for you as well.

"Earth to Y/N," Claire's voice broke through your thoughts, prompting you to snap out of your reverie, cheeks flushing. A mischievous smirk played on Claire's lips as she continued, well aware of your distraction. "I think she was daydreaming," she teased, but you quickly shook off the implication, feeling Dean's gaze upon you. It was the same caring look he always gave, checking in to ensure your comfort, whether it was about speed or pace. Despite any imperfections in the method of 'protection,' Dean excelled at making you feel cherished. "You okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as his fingers lightly brushed your hand, offering a reassuring squeeze, to which you nodded in response.

"I'm sure she wasn't. Let's not deflect now. If we can't talk about it, maybe we shouldn't be doing it, right?" Your eyes widened at the question, inadvertently revealing your discomfort, while Dean nearly choked on his food again with a startled "What?" Despite not wanting to gross out Jody, he simply shrugged and glanced at you before continuing, "I mean..." Just as he was about to elaborate, Jody's eyes widened in realization, catching onto the unspoken understanding between the two of you. "Setting a good example!" she exclaimed, almost in a panic, prompting laughter from Alex, Claire, and Sam, who found the situation amusing. With Dean and you seated at the opposite end of the table, the awkwardness escalated. "And where was it?" Jody inquired, causing your muscles to tense as you recalled it took place right in this very house during one of Jody's trips. You nervously gulped, murmuring your answer while taking a sip of water, inadvertently prompting Jody to respond to the question herself.

But what she didn’t know was that whoever you had spent the night, was seating just next to you.

"On your couch..." Her expression morphed into one of disbelief, unaware that the lucky guy was actually present that evening. Despite her high expectations, she pressed on with another question. "Like a one-night stand? Or someone from work?" She almost seemed reluctant to hear the answer you were about to give. As if you were expecting to give one of those options to loosen her worry. Dean on the other, glanced at you a moment, signaling for you not to reveal it. Instead, he took the plunge and confessed. "Me."

First, Claire choked on her water, followed by Jody, their expressions a mix of uncertainty as she barely left her gaze at you. Especially from expressing you were in hope of waiting before marriage. But it was true. "It is true..." Your voice was soft, the kind of vulnerability that Dean cherished. It stirred something within him, turning him on immensely. He couldn't be prouder knowing that tonight, with that look on your face, you would be in for a delightful surprise.

"Well," Jody appeared somewhat taken aback once again, unsure of what to say next before redirecting her attention to Alex. "Please, for me. Don't follow their example, and for the love of god, don't end up on the couch either." There was a hint of obvious disapproval in her expression, eliciting chuckles from all of you as the conversation shifted back to hunting topics and other matters.

As everyone retired for the night, despite the slightly abrupt end to dinner, you managed to finish the meal Jody had graciously offered. She had invited the three of you to spend another night at her house, recognizing the need for rest after a morning hunt that warranted a good night's sleep. However, Dean had other plans brewing in his mind.

As you slipped into your gown, Sam settled into an actual bed—the one Jody had made sure you and Dean would sleep on. Dean's smirk was unmistakable as his gaze lingered on you while you attended to your last-minute night routine in the guest bathroom. "You know," his voice was husky, unable to tear himself away from your presence, a habit he adored observing. "Oh, I know that look," now it was your turn to gaze at him, rolling your eyes in an attempt to feign innocence at his remark. "But what if Jody..."

He chuckled, drawing closer to you with his arm enveloping your waist. Despite the temptation to kiss you once more and fully express his feelings, to officially declare you as his, he resisted. "Shhh," his thumb gently traced your bottom lip as he met your gaze, then glanced towards the couch. "Alright, cowboy. But don't make me have to silence myself."

“Oh don’t worry, darlin’ I’ll make sure you don’t.”

#supernatural x reader #spn imagines #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #castiel x reader #castiel imagines #spn x you #spn x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jared padelecki #fanfiction #dean winchester x yn #spn imagine #spn x y/n #dean x you #dean x y/n

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lovelybrooke · 6 hours

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Letters Never Sent (Yandere Malleus x Reader)

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A letter wrote by Malleus Draconia, never sent to the object of his desires. Why don't you open it up and see what's inside...

masterlist

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Dear My Child of Man,

I am writing this letter with no intention of you receiving it.

Maybe this is "silly" as you would describe it, but I find myself slowly losing the restraint on my emotions as the days go by. My heart fills with unfamiliar feelings as I think of you, mixing together into an ever present sense of desire that makes me near shameful.

I find myself thinking of you always, from the moment I wake, to the moment I fall asleep. You seep your way into my dreams, where for but a moment I can relish in the fantasy that is you. I dream of your soft voice, your comforting gaze, your addicting presence. You are so captivating that I often forget I'm dreaming, until I awake with an aching feeling I've come to know as longing.

I long for you, I've learned.

I long for your voice, for your gaze, for your presence. I long for every essence of your being to be directed towards me. Some may call me a fool, scoff my way and paint me a madman, but I am nothing without my love for you, so it bothers me none. I often wonder if you think of me as intensely as I do you. I have to admit it is exciting, the mere thought of you reciprocating my feelings warms me so. It is intoxicating, even as a fantasy, simply imagining a life with you is enough for me. Somedays, I imagine gifting you with an unending dream, one where it is just us, away from the rest of the world. Away from duty, and work, and anything else that could distract us from each other, from our love. We would be together and we would be happy until the end of your days, and even after you're gone, I would continue loving you.

You were always so opposed to the idea, immortality. I remember the look on your face when you realized just how long I had lived, the sadness, the remorse, the pain. At that moment, it was not something I feared, more accurately not something I thought much about. It was not until I met you that it dawned upon me that at some point, you would leave this world, and that it would keep moving. Time would progress, people would grieve, but they would move on, plants would sprout and grow and wilt and eventually grow again, but I would remain stuck. Stuck with my dreams and fantasies. Stuck with the memory of you so present it would be like you never left in the first place.

Even now, I fear what the world would be like without you. Not much fills me with fear, my Child of Man, but I've found myself scared lately. The thought of you leaving, of going back to your home, and never returning scares me. It is almost comical in a way, I find myself dreading the thought even while writing this. You should be proud, how easily you are able to terrify me is an excellent skill, one many would love to possess.

You were my first true friend, did you know that? I have Lilia and Silver and Sebek, but I've always been treated as above them, as something untouchable. You were the first person to treat me like an equal, to bless me with the wonderful feeling of friendship. I often find myself racked with guilt, why should I desire more from you when you've already given me so much already? It is selfish, to seek out your love so desperately when I've already taken so much from you. You are my friend, and I should value our friendship above all.

But that is why I fear, because my love for you goes beyond the boundaries of friendship. I would even say it goes beyond the boundaries of love. It is a longing so deep I wonder if I'll ever be the same again, all while knowing that I am too engrossed in the feeling that is you to ever go back. A longing so deep I yearn with desire unexplainable to man, desire so profound and raw that I am sure you have changed something within me. A longing so deep the closest word to describe it is obsession, but even obsession doesn't explain the hundreds of letters, all unset, pilling away, all centering you.

Fear, love, what do distinctions matter if every single one of my thoughts center you.

I have no desire to send this letter, my Child of Man, but I hope with every meeting, every passing day, every time we are together, you are able to feel the love I hold for you. I hope my longing, my devotion, my never ending, boundless obsession is clear to you, my love.

Because I fear what will happen when I run out of paper.

---

A/n: here's to me hoping that this will break my writers block.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst malleus #twst x reader #yandere twst #twst

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drbased · 20 hours

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Does it ever make you ever feel depressed that men have more variation in IQ? That means even though there will always be more male idiots, there will also be more male geniuses. So women can excel in any field, but a man will almost always be the "best" in it. It just makes me feel inferior every time I think about it, way more than strength difference does. Not only that, but they also have higher variation in all types of brain structure. That would mean men are naturally more diverse, personality-wise.

Sometimes I get into these negative thought processes about stupid shit and it totally consumes me. This is my latest one... Please help

Hmm.

Well firstly, IQ is a completely fake concept designed specifically for eugenicist purposes. You can train for an IQ test, your score can change depending on the day, and your score doesn’t mean anything apart from how good you are at IQ tests. It’s not a measure of intelligence, and ‘intelligence’ isn’t real anyway - as in, there is no such quality of uniform intelligence. I think it stands to reason that the highest IQ scores will be from men, because the tests are constructed around a fundamentally male world-view and value system as well as a white one. And that is what depresses me more - that ‘intelligence’ is viewed as some innate quality that only oppressors can possess so they can prove that they deserve their place in a meritocracy. It’s like that controversy about men winning more at Jeopardy than women - the world is structured around male interests and values, so men achieve in mainstream contests and use that to retroactively justify the legitimacy of those values and interests in the culture.

I’m less interested in the concept of a man beating a woman at certain activities because of him being smarter than her, than I am about him beating her because he's socialised from a young age into enjoying and valuing those activities - but also often regardless of his actual performance, he's also by default assumed to be better and more competent than her purely because he's a man. Take for example that study where when they did blind auditions for orchestras, men still got in more than women, but when they put carpeting down so women's heels couldn't be heard, there was finally a more equal ratio of women getting in. Or those studies where identical CVs given out and names that are typical of women, black people etc. get seen as less competent than those with male and white names.

We don't live in a world where we can objectively measure men's 'natural' abilities at anything psychological. But we do live in a world where we know that women's skills are massively undervalued - women have all sorts of intelligences that make the world run round; we're excellent negotiators, we're less violent, we're great at remembering, we have greater compassion, we make good leaders, we are more responsible, we have greater tact, we are safer in the workplace, we're more conscious of social issues and the environment, etc. etc. And none of what we have is seen as 'intelligence'; in fact, quite the opposite - many of our intelligences are dismissed outright as sentimentality and pearl-clutching.

Once again, though, I don't believe these traits are uniform across all women, or that they're 'natural' to us, just as men's traits aren't 'natural' to them. In the nature-nurture debate, there are too many factors in nurture that can't be realistically measured - and I have a suspicion that for many, feminists included, simply saying that men and women naturally possess certain traits is an easier narrative to swallow, because for many women the fear exists that if men can be socialised to be better, then dismissing them as evil would be morally wrong. But I don't think people need to be intrinsically, ontologically evil for us to dismiss them as oppressors - I simply judge by behaviour, which is more measurable.

Going back to intelligence, I think it's also worth saying here that women are socialised into not recognised or appreciating our skills, and to partake in behaviours that psychologically hobble us. Take for example in that orchestra study - under a feminist lens, wearing heels is a form of hobbling that's both literal and psychological. The woman is performing a feminine ritual, wearing a physically debilitating item that submissively marks her as a woman. Not to say that she would be respected more if she was gnc, but I find it interesting how women accidentally lost their spot on the orchestra in the study because their performative clothing made them noisier and easier to recognise as women. And on top of that, we have stereotype threat - there was a study done where men and women were performing some sort of test, and in one half they were in normal clothes, and the second they were in swimwear. In the second one, women performed more poorly than they did in the first, and men saw no change. Once again, we have two inexorably interlinked factors at play, here - women's swimwear is not built for utility but rather to be sexy, and women's bodies are considered inherently sexual; that's not to say that if women were wearing men's swimwear they'd do better at the test, but rather women are socialised to be self-conscious of themselves but also expected to show more skin - we're expected to dumb ourselves down in the name of being sexy.

The upside in all of this is that the moment you recognise that these things aren't set in stone, and rather that these are all skills you can develop if you gain confidence in yourself, you develop a robust sense of self that you can be comfortable and happy with regardless of external measure of male-approved success. I, for example, found confidence in myself and my writing, and now I'm finding success and getting praise online by women on tumblr. It seems you're best finding yourself environments surrounded by other women, especially feminist-minded women who are consciously choosing to fight against established biases by valuing the skills of women that are undervalued by society. Devaluing male interests and achievements in your own head is something you can also do, and I once again recommend feminist spaces as an excellent opportunity to de-program (obligatory plug for my side blog @learningwomanhood where I do exactly that).

For me, the biggest wisdom to be gained from feminism is the psychological distancing yourself from male thought - the more things you reject that you once unthinkingly believed to be normal, the more you feel that you can truly be human, vibrant, unconstrained; and the more silly the whole enterprise of patriarchy looks. It's not nice that rejecting patriarchy means rejecting mainstream society, but the older you get the more you realise that you simply can't dwell on these things and instead have to do what benefits you within it; nobody is owed a perfect existence, and once you realise that you have to choose a life for yourself and choose to be happy with that, your life will be much more comfortable. In the end, life is all about the gestures of love you make to yourself and others. When you realise that it's your job to be your own best friend, you can carry that energy with you your whole life; you will be inpenetrable because all that matters to you, no matter what situation you're going through or what hell you're in, is that you made decisions that showed love to yourself. That could be considered a form of intelligence - perhaps wisdom itself is a form of intelligence that is devalued specifically because it's female-coded. But wisdom sounds like nothing until you internalise it - all the language in the world can't seem to really get to its essence until something inside you clicks and you understand it.

One thing I would like to say is that those negative thought processes you have are not stupid: they are a valuable part of your processing of the world and are worth attention. We have this cultural idea that with regards to mental health, the parts of us that are 'real' and 'valid' and 'truly us' are all the good parts, and the negative thought processes and patterns of behaviour are like cancerous tumours that need to be artifically removed. One of the best things I ever did for myself is to take myself seriously - because that's my prerogative, as myself and my own best friend. The only thing 'bad' thing about those thought processes is that they cause you distress; that's it. So, then, it's up to you to decide how much you want to indulge in them. I find the best way to really tackle unpleasant behavioural patterns is to simply do them shamelessly, because clearly a part of you wants to do them anyway; one of the first ways I got out of my depressive spirals was to decide that I was going to do all the depressive actions (stay in bed, eat junk food etc.) but simply embrace that those are things I want to do and not feel guilty or sad about it. That way, the depression hasn't consumed me and instead I have made a choice - I have reformed my relationship with myself as an active agent and a made a choice to show love for myself through the gesture of taking my desires seriously, not dismissing them as 'mentally ill'. I could go on but the point is that all of your head is necessarily you - as in, it doesn't come from anywhere else but you, and therefore all of it should be respected and valued. Mainstream society won't tell you that - there's always supposed to be a limit, there's always something that's 'unhealthy' in some sort of metaphysical sense, there's always a part of you that's supposed to be beholden to some external standard, that keeps you feeling insecure and needing validation. But there is no true objective measure of a healthy mind; the only thing that matters is if you're comfortable with yourself, and you can always make gestures of love to yourself regardless of your situation.

#my writing #anon #theory posting #wisdom posting

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dropthedemiurge · 2 days

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Second part of my translation comments (and half meta) for Gray Shelter [Episode 5], you can find the first post here!

"You gave the choice/decision to me, didn't you? (reference to the earlier scene)" "So your decision is to give me some money and tell me to get out of your sight?"

꺼져 is quite a rude word, like 'get the hell away from me', Yoondae is clearly pissed rephrasing/interpreting Soohyuk's intentions, he's using informal tone too

"Because I live like this? Because I idle/fool around here and there without doing anything, not able to get myself together (cannot get a grip on myself and my life)? Because you still see me as a child?!" "Yes. That's why I'm confused. Because it doesn't matter who is by your side (anyone will do), right?" "And (what's the problem)? You can be by my side. Why is everything so complicated for you? Just... (in softest pleading voice) ...Watch me. I will live like all the other people. Then it'll all be good (it's solved), no? You can watch over me while being by my side. Mmhm? Don't care about the situation, once again I'm telling you, just look only right at me."

I actually really like the usage of 'focus on me' in all the sentences because the translator keeps the leitmotif and it works in all contexts, the entire conversation was translated nicely. Even "- What's the most difficult thing about me and this situation for you? - That I'm your home (the place you return to now)."

I just gave you more literal translation... idk, for fun xD Maybe you'll catch more nuances that I tried to put in here. It's just devastating. Soohyuk sees and feels that Yoondae is clinging to him like to a lifeline, and he doesn't want to be one, he's got enough of people burdening him, his life is hard enough.

He tried to think simply like Yoondae and just live in the moment, give in to his impulses as well, but he just can't. He's sinking on his own and he can't chain himself to another person because even if he's a safe place for Yoondae, he won't be able to save him in this situation, it means they'll both drown. Yoondae has to find his own ground to stand on, he has to get a grip and find a new home on his own so he won't circle his entire life and attention on Soohyuk. Only then it'll work.

"If I find another home, can I call you? You won't avoid me then?"

They don't kiss here – they can't. It won't work. But such short distance is a promise, it's a possible future happy ending hanging between them both like a life vest and a heavy rock.

I'm not sure he means it as 'we get together again'. More like

"If we meet again, will we become okay?"

Like, they agreed it won't work out now, they need some time, and Yoondae now will be holding onto that hope that Soohyuk might accept him and his feelings once Yoondae finds his own home, his own meaning in life. But he's still afraid it won't happen, that's why he needs to hear some affirmation. Will things between them become alright (and the fact that he doesn't really say 'better' or 'good', he uses 괜찮다 - fine, alright, okay and asks if they will be able to even reach that). Which means they both know their relationship is less than 'okay' now.

And in a very Gray Shelter melancholic satisfying-unsatisfying way, Soohyuk only replies: "It'd at least be better than now."

That's the only thing Yoondae is left with. This, and a daring request to pretend he didn't steal that goodbye kiss.

And we're getting a time skip which starts on a sound of a ringing telephone. ("If I find another home, can I call you? ) And surprisingly, it doesn't seem that Yoondae is the one calling this time, as he wanted to. It seems like Yoondae accepted the call but he wasn't holding it or answering, yet Soohyuk called him and invited him for a dinner and is waiting for the answer. Now, the decision is up to Yoondae.

There is a calendar on the wall but I honestly didn't track if there were any other calendars in the show so we can tell how long was the time skip.

"Alright. I'll be waiting."

To be honest, in the ending I wished they showed at least one scene of Yoongdae coming home in a work-like uniform or doing something to indicate he started sorting his life out before that call came through. Because even though the ending is hopeful – they lived separately for some time, Yoondae has his own place, Soohyuk is reaching out to spend time with him now and they both agreed their next meeting will be more hopeful – but will it be enough? Was the problem actually solved?

We all should think that yes, but I wish the ending supported it a little bit more confidently. After such a rollercoaster of emotions and complicated situation, I want to see them heading towards the truly happy ending Т_т (give me the second season!)

In any case, the acting is great and the melancholic atmosphere for a BL was so unusual, I loved the edgy dialogues and emotionally raw writing. For such a short story, Gray Shelter certainly will go under many people's radar but it still touched my soul.

And, well, now I understand the title. Soohyuk is a shelter, he shouldn't be a home. Shelter is a place they seek temporarily comfort in when they have nowhere else to go. And it's not a bright happy couple place, and it's not an abusive family house either, gray is neither black nor white. It's something in between, and it's up to Soohyuk and Yoondae to try and build an actual equal bond, have a place to return to and person to eat dinner with.

#gray shelter #gray current #gray shelter comments #dropthemeta #korean bl #kbl #soohyuk x yoondae #kdrama #bl series

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alexa-fika · 9 hours

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Heyo, how are you? I’m not sure if you celebrate it, but hope you had a great Easter? Would you write another Dokucha story where she’s the daughter of Mihawk and being very secretive whenever she goes somewhere. One day, Mihawk follows her (Crocodile and Buggy follow him too, they’ve got nothing better to do xD) which is easier said than done. She’s very smart (after all she’s Mihawk’s daughter) and tries to make sure not to be followed. Once they find her, they can’t understand what they walked into. Humandrills, Bananawanis, Kung-Fu Dugongs, and many more other animals are living in a secret place together and getting along, and especially, they all love her so so much. Together with her animal family they’re taking care of a wounded Sea King. Buggy is ready to leave the place and never come back, too many fearsome creatures for his taste and Crocodile and Mihawk are just at a loss for words (now Crocodile knows where his pets went, she doesn’t like that he uses them for battles and such, she loves their company and would never want any harm to come to them). Once they sense the three men, all the animals start to become hostile towards them ready to protect Dokucha at all cost.

The Scaly and furry ( mihawk x f!child!reader x crocodile)

A/N I DID IT GUYS AFTER SO LONG I FINALLY DID IT. I din’t have any idea on how to integrate buggy so he kinda got missed out. But here we are another dracule!reader, reader is in ther middle childhood, so young but not a todler but also not a teen. But anyways thank you guys so much for waiting

Mihawk narrows his eyes as once again his daughter had left in a hurry, leaving behind a poor excuse of wanting to explore the outside. His eyes flickering back to his co-worker as he pipes in

“If you’re that curious about what the brat is up to, we can simply follow her,” Crocodile huffs out, a cloud of smoke leaving his mouth as he spoke

It was easier said than done, seeing as his daughter had inherited haki from him, one she had harnessed under both his and Crocodile’s guidance. But it was still not on par with theirs, which made it possible for the two men to evade her detection, following her as she made her wave through the thick bushes until she arrived at a cove hidden away by trees and boulders.

She blinked, looking back

“I thought I felt something…” she murmured, turning back around smiling as she spotted one of her friends waiting for her at the entrance of a more secluded part of the cove.

“Hi Manny, I'm back!” She called to the Dugong, who made some aggressive punching movements her way as they both entered a more enclosed part of the cove

“I know, I’m sorry. Dad and Cruncle are getting suspicious, so it was harder to get this time,” the girl grumbles, letting out a squeak as she was suddenly lifted off the ground, relaxing when she recognized the presence.

“Enrique, you scared me,” she gasped, giggling when the human drill hugged her tighter

“I ‘m sorry; I know I was gone longer than normal; I'm back,” she said, smiling up at the ape that sat in the branches, letting low hoots as he put the girl down again

“I knew you cared, Enrique!”

A louder set of hoots and disgruntled noises left the Humandrill upon hearing this

“Tell yourself that, but I know you care!” She argued back to the growing cacophony of howls and screams, the occasional gecker leaving the ever-increasing group only to be stopped as Manny, now joined with his own group of dugongs, began emitting a series of whistles to get both of them on track

“Ah right, sorry,” she apologized, making haste to a blue hole deeper down the cove, smiling as a colossal beast surfaced when she kneeled next to it

“Hi Musa, how are they doing? I’m sorry it took me a bit, but I brought the medicine. Would you bring them up?” She spoke as she caressed the bananawani’s jaw, grinning when the latter let out a satisfied hiss as she sank back into the depths, returning accompanied both only by more of her kind but with a similar-sized beast being supported by their scaly bodies

She frowns at the Sea King’s state as they weakly glance at her, letting out a weak hiss in greeting

“Here, can you open your mouth?” Smiling when they complied, throwing the medication in their mouth

“You’re bigger, so I had to get a couple…hundred, but it sho-AH

Her words were caught up as, for the second time, she found herself airborne, this time; however, the culprit seemed to be a dusty mass dragging her feet in the air and dangling her upside down

As soon as this happened, as a switch being flicked, all the animals in the room became alert, aggresive, the bananawanis crawling out of the water and standing in front of her now dangling body. The dugongs and Humandrills stood in their own formations, preparing to fight the newcomers. Some of the human drills were quick to try to get the girl down, climbing through branches near her position, only to back down as the sand lashed out at them if they got too close

“It’s okay, guys, I know them,” she explains, trying to calm the growing tension in the cove

“Hi dad, hi Cruncle….what are you guys doing here?”

“I reckon we should be the ones asking that question,” Mihawk spoke, staring up at the girl

“What are you doing near them?” Crocodile growled as the creatures began to advance on them, as he flashed them with his haki in return, grinning when they backed away

“Wait, don’t hurt them! I can explain!” She hurried out

Mihawk quirked an eyebrow at that

“They’re my friends!” She chirps only to turn into a squeal as she is raised higher after a shared glance between the ex-warlords

“Dad!” She whined, a frown on her face

“Where did they come from?”

She pouts at that

“Well?”

“The human drills came with me from our old home, and we found the dugongs at the beach.”

Mihawk glances at Crocodile for confirmation on the latter, already knowing how likely it was for the apes to have followed them to the island, seeing how close they had grown in Kuragaina Island

“Dugongs are native to this area,” he confirms

He hums at that

“And the beasts?”

“I sneaked into Uncle’s gloomy room, and they were just there; they were lonely, so, I kind of, umm, let them go?”

Crocodile lets out a scoff at that

“They are huge predators, the only predators to sea kings, and you let them go because they looked lonely?”

“That’s what I just said, dummy.”

“Watch it brat.”

She sticks out her tongue at him in return

Mihawk rolled his eyes, walking closer to her

“What about the sea king?”

“It’s a baby! It got left by his pod, and he got really sick; he found them when me and Musa were out swimming, and we wanted to help them, well Musa wanted to eat them at first….”

“You are going to be the death of me,” he sighed, catching the child as Crocodile released the sand holding them up

“So…can I come see them again?” She asked the men once they had departed from the cove, much to the chagrin of the animals

They glance at each other before Crocodile begins

“The banawani need to come back.” he started sending her a side glare when she began to protest

“They have a job to do; once they do their job, they are free to go and rendevous with you,” he states

“Job? Do they play with you too, Cruncle? Is their job to keep you company?”

“N-

He pauses at the scathing glare he receives from the swordsman, understanding it was better not to let the young girl know what the reptile’s actual job consisted of

“..They keep me company and help me with some cleaning.”

“Cleaning? Them?” She questions, trying to picture the crocodiles using their huge bodies to tidy up an office

“They get rid of the trash for me.”

“Oh! That sounds like Musa and the rest! They are always hungry,” she laughs

Mihawk nods his head, a silent sign of acknowledgment for the otherwise aloof man

“You have to let me know where you are actually going from now on, no more sneaking out. As long as you do that, you are allowed to continue your peculiar friendship group.”

“Really?!”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, dad!”

A moment of silence envelops the trio as they continue walking, only to be cut short by the girl once again

“Do you want to come to cuddle and play with them with me?”

“No.”

“Worth a shot”

Again thank you for all the kind words I got saying to take my time, and sorry I completely disregard your words cause LISTEN I WANT TO KEEP GIVEN YOU GUYYS

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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climbthemountain2020 · 2 days

Text

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 16

Part 17/26 | Ao3

Eris

It had been a week since the worst and best day of their lives thus far, and Eris was fighting every single base urge the mating bond thrust upon him each time he saw his mate and knew she was pregnant with their child. He’d barely let her leave the room since, both because of the sudden protective streak he was experiencing, but also because it had triggered something feral in him that required him to pull her naked body back into their bed every time she tried to depart it. She would giggle and they’d resume right where they left off, touching and laughing and exploring each other again. It was like they were experiencing the frenzy of the bond all over again, but Eris wasn’t complaining.

He knew this couldn’t last–knew something would disturb this fragile, glorious peace–but gods, he wanted it to.

That morning, a letter had arrived in their rooms requesting his presence in the throne room at sunrise, and he was regretting his duties every second he spent not in bed with Tilly. She was still sleeping, bordered by dogs on each side, as he kissed her gently and left their rooms. He knew she’d been tired lately, and he wasn’t going to wake her for no reason. He left a note with her breakfast, remembering fondly the first time he’d done so, and tried to make this one a bit sweeter.

Good morning, beautiful creature

You simply looked too peaceful to wake, and I hope you’re having wonderful dreams–of me, obviously. I brewed your favorite tea, set to stay heated, as well as procuring more chocolate tarts. I’ll be back in an hour or so.

All my love,

He tucked it under the pillow when he set her tray on the night table, taking another look at her and wondering how he’d possibly lucked into this. Beron aside, he didn’t know how anyone could have received such fortune in life. Perhaps the universe was finally allowing him a reprieve in exchange for the previous five centuries of torture.

He walked to the throne room, cracking his neck as he went and preparing mentally for whatever Beron had in mind. He tried to smother the happiness he felt so it wouldn’t show on his face, letting that steel mask slide into place as it always did. He walked in with purpose, sketched a bow, and rose.

“How may I be of service, father?”

“I need you in Dawn Court to finish brokering the deal for the new adaptive armor we commissioned.” Eris was aware of this deal. Thesan had agreed, after much negotiation, to create armor for the soldiers of Autumn. It had certain specifications in mind, made them stronger, heat resistant, and less likely to melt in the case of an onslaught of fire magic. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, but Eris hadn’t done much with it at this point. It wasn’t a particularly difficult trip, though. They might even be able to stop by Day Court and talk to Helion before returning home.

“Yes, father. When will we be leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning. You will need to go alone, and be subtle there. I don’t want to risk anyone seeing you and thinking we’re brokering some type of alliance. That’s the last thing we need.” Eris was immediately uncomfortable with Tilly being left behind, his instincts roaring within him to stay nearby and protect her, protect their baby.

“Understood, father.”

“I will be off to the mortal lands for meetings with the human queens.” This information did shock Eris, but he kept his expression schooled.

“The human queens? I did not realize we were still in contact after the mishap with Brialyn.”

“Yes, I am building contacts with them. More allies can never hurt, especially not when they have a tense relationship with the Night Court.” Beron leered in a way that sent a chill through Eris. At least Beron would be far from Tilly in his absence. “Do not disappoint me, Eris. This is a very simple deal, and I need it to go through without any issues.” Eris simply bowed.

“Yes, father.”

On his way back to their rooms to pack, he thought about how he might approach the meeting with Helion. He could send a parchment from Day that was unlikely to be intercepted begging for an audience, then go straight there after Day to speak with him. He could see if Helion would be willing to at least help break the charm preventing Beron from being poisoned so that they could try again. Truly, he knew Helion wouldn’t do anything to compromise Alanna’s sons, as much as he hated Beron. He knew he’d be safe in Day, even if he wasn’t well-liked. He could explain the situation to Helion, and perhaps he would warm more if he knew the details. As a last resort, he could even exchange his knowledge of Lucien. Eris didn’t like it for anyone’s sake, least of all his mother’s, and he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Tilly had just risen when Eris returned. She was sitting there on the still-ruffled bed, eating her pastries. She smiled at him as he came inside, and Eris thought he’d never seen anything quite so beautiful. Her red hair was tousled, waving lazily in the low light, and she was wearing a silk dressing gown that slipped deliciously off one freckled shoulder.

“Got your note!” She held it up with a grin. “Thank you for the tea and tarts. I might live off tea and tarts if you let me.” He laughed as he came and sat on the side of the bed, giving her a kiss and tasting the chai and chocolate on her lips.

“I’m surprised the dogs aren’t here begging.” He’d practically had to pry Hestia away from Tilly this past week. She and Cinder had become incredibly protective, going nearly everywhere she went and growling at anyone else who got too close.

“I gave them their breakfast a bit ago and I may have given them some sausages to get a little reprieve.” Her smile turned guilty as she said it, but her eyes were filled with mischief. He reached up, letting his hand graze her jaw lightly.

“I have to go away for a few days.” Her face dropped at the news, worry creasing her brow.

“Why? I can’t come?” He knew she would worry–he understood.

“It’s just a few days in Dawn. I need to finish a deal for Beron, who will, blessedly, also be gone from the Forest House.” Tilly breathed a deep sigh of relief.

“Well, that’s not so terrible. Despite missing you while you’re gone.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I’ll be missing you every moment I am away. Perhaps you and my mother can spend some time together. I know she blooms when he’s gone, and it’ll keep you company, too.” She smiled and nodded.

“I’d like that.”

“And you’re good to keep the glamours up while I’m away?”

“Yes, I can do it. Not like I’d be using any other magic without you here.” She laughed a little, and he relented, kissing her again. A few quick pecks turned slower, more sensual. He could never get enough of her, and he knew that no measure of time would satisfy him. He trailed the kisses down her chest, sending all the love and affection that burned through the pathways of his heart down the bond and into her as she inhaled deeply.

He pressed a kiss to the spot beneath her navel as she sighed in contentment. He inhaled, loving the mix of flames and oranges that washed over him. It was going to be the longest few days of his life.

“Are you absolutely sure you’ll be alright while I’m gone? Perhaps I can figure out a way–”

“Eris, it’s fine. I have spent so much of my life by myself. I can manage a few days.” He pouted, putting on a dramatic show for her as she laughed.

“I am hoping to get a letter to Helion. Perhaps he might be able to help.” Her expression sobered as she sat back up, Eris rising with her to press a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“Let’s hope he will.”

Tilly

Tilly rolled stiffly across the bed, bumping the sleeping dogs and earning grumbles as she did.

“Oh, hush. I can’t help it that I can’t sleep. You’re the ones choosing to be here, anyway.” Eris had been gone for a day now, and she missed him sorely, but it was so much worse at night. She hated sleeping away from him–had grown so used to his warm body curved around hers that she couldn’t sleep without him here. Even with three dogs on the bed, she felt cold and lonely. She rolled again, tugging the bond lovingly and sending sweet thoughts through that mighty ribbon to him. It took barely a moment before she felt it echoing back, his amusement–likely at her still being awake–dancing around with love and devotion.

At this distance, the bond was so incredibly faint–delayed, even–but she was glad for it only to know he was safe and to have that small bit of comfort. She and Alanna had done tea in the garden that afternoon which had been a nice reprieve, especially with the lack of Beron’s overbearing guard lingering over them like a dark cloud. Tilly loved how much lighter the Lady of Autumn was when she wasn’t being chained down by Beron’s presence, but it made it so much more painful to see her locked back down upon his return.

They’d discussed flowers and the weather, and Alanna had tentatively mentioned the upcoming solstice, but nothing about the ticking clock hanging over their heads. A part of her wondered if Alanna didn’t sense it, didn’t already know about the grandchild cradled within Tilly’s womb. They would have told her, but they didn’t want to be responsible for giving her a single additional piece of information that Beron could torture out of her or punish her for keeping from him. They’d have to figure out soon how long they planned to hide this before they absolutely couldn’t anymore. She hoped Eris’ meeting with Helion would produce some good leads and keep them from worrying about it altogether.

Another roll and a frustrated sigh. She was probably only about two months along at most, and the uncomfortable nights would only become more commonplace from here. At least with Eris around, he could provide his warm hands pressed against her back for some relief. She smiled at the thought. Eris was going to be such a wonderful father, and as terrible as the circumstances were, she couldn’t help but feel genuinely excited about the prospect of seeing him in the role. She could imagine him rubbing circles into her back, holding her hands as she brought their baby into the world. She could picture Eris so vividly holding him or her against his chest, tiny tufts of bright red baby curls perfectly puffing up from the blanket. The visual brought tears to her eyes, as most things seemed to these days.

A frantic pounding on the doors broke through the darkness.

“Matilda! Matilda, help!”

Alanna.

The dogs were barking and snarling, and Tilly shot out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown to wrap tightly around her as she ran to the door. The pounding was growing louder and more hectic.

“Matilda, please!” She threw up her glamours and waved down the wards in the same breath, swinging the door open in a panic.

“Alanna, what’s–”

But it wasn’t Alanna she found on the other side.

She was greeted with the twisted smile of Aradnus, holding a handkerchief covered in a bright blue powder. The voice had been a trick of magic, and in the seconds it took her to put it all together and try to slam the door on him, he’d gotten his entire arm around her throat and pressed the cloth to her nose and mouth. She could think of nothing as her vision began to blur, her senses dulling rapidly. She struggled wildly against him, the dogs snarling and snapping behind her as he kicked the door closed on them, dragging her out into the hall.

As the darkness closed in, she tried to reach out through the bond to warn Eris, but the golden thread of flame was nowhere to be found.

Taglist (lomls): @cauldronblssd@queercontrarian@byyalady@thelovelymadone@clockwork-ashes@lovingkelj @lilah-asteria

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #vanserra brothers #flame of autumn #arranged marriage #allies to lovers #eris vanserra x oc #acotar smut #Eris smut

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discotitsposts · 1 day

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i heard that

reader overhears spencer checking on their baby

dad spencer x mom reader

rated e for everyone

As you lay your lovely baby girl down for her nap after gently rocking her, you hear footsteps behind you. You turn and see Spencer with the sweetest smile on his face.

“She’s so tired.” You whisper very quietly.

Spencer leans over the crib and just stares at her smiling. Tears brimming his eyes at the sight.

“She’s so precious.” He whispers quietly back. You motion for him to follow you to the kitchen and you make yourselves a snack.

“Let’s watch something!” You say picking up the baby monitor and your lunch and bringing it into the living room.

Spencer picks up his own lunch and gets you both something to drink. “Sure,” he calls from the kitchen, “You can pick something.”

You rack your brain for what to pick when you hear a noise. “Spence did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” He walks in and hands you your drink.

You motion him to “shh” and listen carefully.

You can hear your little baby softly babbling in her sleep.

“I’ll go check on her.” Spencer says getting up and going upstairs. You nod and pick a tv show to watch. You listen to the monitor and hear the shuffling of Spencer entering the room over the sound of your daughter, now crying.

“What’s the matter little princess? What do you need? Are you hungry?” You hear him say. “Here maybe this will help.” You hear the sound of him walking and figure he must be taking her to the rocking chair to calm her down. She quiets down immediately.

“Oh now you’re sleepy again. You just missed us, huh? I’m sorry sweetheart. I love you so much.” He continues speaking softly to her. “You have no idea darling. You and your mother are the best things that ever happened to me. Do you know that?” He’s speaking so gently.

His words have you in tears. This was too adorable. You hear him laugh over the monitor. You have to see this. You grab your phone and sneak up the stairs and watch him cradling her.

“You both make me so so happy everyday and remind me of the good in this world.” He’s having a hard time holding back any emotion by now and is crying tears of joy while laughing.

You snap a picture and then get a look at your daughter’s face and almost start laughing. She’s looking up at him in confusion.

(like this 🤨)

He keeps talking while she’s staring up at him like omg dude put me back to bed already, and it’s killing you! You start wheeze laughing because you can’t hold it in anymore. Spencer hears your faint laughing and looks down at your daughter.

“Oh really? I didn’t know you understood what I said. Wow! So expressive. You wanna go back to bed now?” He asks standing up.

She simply responds with “ah,” and smiles.

“Alright, geez, go back to sleep little ms. bossy pants.” He gives her a kiss on her head and then gently lays her back down and covers her with her baby blanket with the lions and giraffes on it.

You step into the room smiling so hard your face hurts.

“You,” He holds her tiny little hand, she grabs his finger. “Have captivated my heart since you were born.” He removes his hand and spins around. “And you, have had my heart since the day we met.” He taps your nose. You smile.

“ah,” She coos one last time before nodding off.

“Doesn’t she look cozy?” Spencer nods. She’s wearing a fuzzy pink strawberry print onesie, courtesy of auntie Penelope. You turn on her moon and stars nightlight and gently shut the door.

You and Spencer are quiet until you get back downstairs.

“When did you sneak in?” He asks.

“When I heard you tell her how much you love us.”

“Oh you heard that?” He asks.

You pick up the baby monitor, “I heard that.”

“Ahh, makes sense.” He lays down on the couch loosening his tie and removing his shoes. He takes a candy from the snack bowl and eats it.

You lay down on the couch with him and click play on The Munsters.

Three episodes in, you’ve fallen asleep too. Yawning at first before your eyes closed fully. Spencer keeps awake and watches you while running his hand through your hair. His soft caresses had practically welcomed the sleepiness into your eyes.

Spencer was the happiest he’d ever been.

the end💞

happy spencer happy spencer

tags 🍓 -

@whoisspence

@lemonadeinfuser

@fictionalobssed

@exoticisles

@in-another-april

@gallifreyan-idiocracy

(if anyone else would like to join tag list you can comment a 🍓)

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sophieswundergarten · 1 day

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Thingy

Tired. Take it or leave it, it's been rotting in my drafts for a while now.

“Hmm.” Reynie said to himself. “This is probably not good.”

He was standing in the dining room, looking at a glass of what was now very obviously not water. It was clear and about the same consistency of water, but it tasted ever so slightly… off.

He knew enough from living in a house of scientists that he should not be drinking unidentified liquids, but in his defence this one was currently being housed in a regular drinking glass that had been sitting on the table right next to an actual cup of water.

Sticky came racing into the room, holding an erlenmeyer flask. His face fell when he saw Reynie standing there, examining the glass of not-water.

“Oh no. Reynie, you didn’t drink that, did you?” Sticky looked apprehensive, but Reynie took it as “concerned about potential reactions” apprehensive, and not “you just drank something toxic” apprehensive.

“Yes,” He said slowly, “A little. I recognised pretty quick it wasn’t my water. Should I be worried?”

Sticky looked mildly horrified, then slumped into a chair. “No, no. That is, it’s not harmful. But you might want to stay away from Constance for the remainder of the afternoon.”

“And why would that be?” Reynie carefully set the cup on the table in front of Sticky and sat down next to him. His friend quickly grabbed the glass and poured it into his flask, capping it.

“It’s a truth serum,” He sighed, “I was testing out a potential formula that might be similar enough to the compound Curtain has, to see if I could then make some kind of antidote. But I had run out of flasks so I put it into a regular cup until I could come back with this one. I’m so sorry, Reynie.”

Reynie thought about this. “So I’ll have to answer any question truthfully for the next… several hours?”

Sticky nodded ruefully. “It shouldn’t be for too long; this is a much weaker formula than Curtain’s. But, yes, definitely an hour or two. A mouthful is about twelve or so millilitres, which converts to around two hundred and forty drops, or about four hours. But, like I said, this is not as potent as that compound.”

He sighed again. “I really am so sorry, Reynie. I knew I shouldn’t have left it just sitting there like that, but I thought I would have enough time to run and get a flask before anyone came in. This is all my fault.” He put his face in his hands.

Reynie patted his friend’s back. “It’s alright, Sticky. These things happen sometimes. I’m not mad.”

Sticky peeked at him from between his fingers. “Are you sure?”

Reynie gave him a deadpan stare.

“Oh, right. Truth serum.” Sticky remembered sheepishly.

The next forty-five minutes passed smoothly, with Sticky tentatively engaging Reynie in careful conversation, but that became a lost cause as soon as the girls returned from their trip to the park.

“Hello, boys!” Kate crowed, bouncing into the room. “How was your afternoon?”

Sticky looked fearfully at Reynie, who simply answered, “Interesting. How was the park?”

Constance stomped in after Kate, taking great delight in shedding her raincoat with the most drama she could muster. “It was great! There were rain puddles everywhere, and I even managed to get Kate wet.” She smiled, seeming very self-satisfied.

Kate rolled her eyes, but she grinned anyway. “Mr. Benedict wants us to do another memory challenge with Connie here, like that one we did before. You know, where we think of embarrassing memories or secrets and Constance has to try and pick them out? There’s hot chocolate in it once we’re done.”

Sticky looked mortified, but Reynie just smiled quietly. He had been preparing for an occasion such as this for a while, and had a collection of memories that, while certainly not pleasant, wouldn’t be too hard to discuss with his friends.

Constance saw his smile and narrowed her eyes. “What are you smiling about, Reynie Muldoon? Should we start with you first?”

Reynie shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

He waited for Constance to get herself settled at one of the dining room chairs, then folded his hands and looked at her, waiting.

It wasn’t too intrusive when Constance was sorting through his thoughts, especially since she’d been getting better at it. He was focussing on a memory of one time he had spelled a word wrong out loud when he had been called on, but it was still difficult to keep his mind locked onto the memory when he felt Constance moving around in there.

Eventually, she found the image and her face screwed up in concentration.

“You… You’re in class, and I can see writing on the board. You’re… You’re… You’re spelling something!” She called excitedly.

Reynie opened his eyes, smiling at her and letting his thoughts wend free.

But Constance didn’t relax. Her eyes remained shut, and her expression darkened.

“There’s… There’s something else…” She scrunched her eyebrows together. “You got it wrong. You got it wrong, and the teacher… The teacher made fun of you!” Her eyes popped open and she looked at Reynie accusingly. “You got in trouble, and the teacher hit you with a ruler!”

Reynie winced. “Constance, it’s not a big deal.” He muttered, embarrassed that she was continuing to dredge up parts of the memory.

“Reynie,” Kate said, aghast, “That’s not a good thing.”

Reynie looked at her, puzzled. “I know it’s not a good thing, Kate,” He emphasised, “But it wasn’t that bad.” He turned towards the others uncertainly.

Sticky pushed his glasses up, considering. “Well, corporal punishment is generally frowned upon, but there is no federal law making it illegal nationwide. In some states it is outlawed, but in others it’s still completely allowed.” He looked unhappy as he said this, glancing sideways at Reynie.

“It hurt.” Reynie said simply. Then he gasped, covering his mouth with a hand and shaking his head violently.

“What?” Kate was on her feet like lightning, looking furious and agitated. “Reynie, you never say when something hurt you. How bad was this that you’re willing to admit it?”

“I– Uh,” Reynie looked panicked, waving a hand frantically at Sticky.

After a few seconds, it dawned on the other boy what he wanted. “Reynie accidentally drank a truth serum I’m working on!” He blurted out. “He wasn’t supposed to, but I left it out and he drank it and now he’s got to tell the truth for the next… couple of… hours?” He finished sheepishly.

Kate opened her mouth, flabbergasted. “First of all.” She said, whirling on Sticky, who cringed away at the ferocity of her voice. “How do you just accidentally leave truth serum lying around? And, secondly,” She continued, turning back to Reynie, “Why does it take a truth serum for you to be honest with us? We’re your friends, I thought you trusted us.” She sounded hurt.

“I do!” Reynie hastened to say. “I do trust you. I just… I don’t want to talk about the things that have gone badly in the past. I don’t want to have to bring it up, especially not around you guys.”

“But why?” Constance interjected, crossing her arms and tilting her head at him. “You say you trust us, but then you don’t want to tell us things?”

“I want to tell you!” Reynie’s eyes glistened with frustrated tears. “I always want to tell you guys everything. But this stuff, it’s not fun. I don’t want you to be sad or have to think about it. It’s my burden to carry, not yours.”

That took all the air out of Kate. She sat down, looking confused. “Reynie,” She said softly. “Why wouldn’t we want to know?”

Reynie stared at her, utterly bemused.

“I think,” Sticky began cautiously, “What Kate is trying to say is ‘Why should it only be your burden to carry?’ We care about you, and we want to know all the things you’re willing to tell us. Even the bad stuff.”

“Especially the bad stuff.” Constance piped up.

“Okay,” Sighed Reynie. “If you really want to know…”

#mbs #the mysterious benedict society #reynie muldoon #sticky washington #kate wetherall #constance contraire

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