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shadowdaddies · 2 days

Note

Being mated to Azriel/Cassian/Nesta. Az and Cass are away, visiting some Illyrian camps, and whenever they are away, you all have agreed that you’re free use for Nesta?

hii thank you for the request, I've been slow with them lately and hating everything I write but I hope you like this! I got carried away here

Mine All Mine

Nesta x f!Reader smut (ft. Cassian and Azriel)

warnings: pure smut, free use, oral f!receiving, masturbation, gagging/toys, d/s dynamics

“Be good for us while we’re gone, sweetheart,” Cassian purred, flashing a roguish grin that forced heat to your cheeks under his gaze.

Azriel leaned in, arms wrapping you in a gentle embrace as his lips brushed yours, the tender moment at odds with the words that followed.

“She’ll be good, Cassian. Our girl knows she is solely responsible for Nesta’s pleasure while we’re away.” His voice maintained its smooth calmness, but the shadowsinger’s grin turned vulpine as a scarred finger curled under your chin. “You’ll take care of Nesta while we’re gone, won’t you, angel?”

It was an agreement the four of your had as mates. While Cassian and Azriel were gone, you were responsible for Nesta’s pleasure, and she for yours. She could take you at any time she wanted to get what she needed from you, and you relinquished complete control over your own pleasure to her.

You nodded at Azriel, embarrassed at the rush of heat that built between your thighs at his words. Two sets of hazel eyes simmered with desire at the scent of your arousal drifting through the room. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, lower lip tugged between your teeth.

Cassian was the first to break the tension, clearing his throat before mumbling something about being late to their meeting in Windhaven. Azriel slowly drew his finger from your chin, his intense gaze as he did so sending a shiver down your spine.

“We will see you very soon, angel,” he promised, the side of his lip curving to show a dimple before the two Illyrians disappeared through the door, the sound of their wings beating as they took off echoing through the air.

The house instantly felt empty, a restlessness settling over you at the quiet. Your mind drifted to the things Nesta would do to you when she returned home - the ways she would use you for her pleasure, push you to the limits of your own - and slick dampened your thighs, core clenching around nothing.

Face flushed, you shook the shameful thoughts from your mind in favor of distraction. A book caught your eye, resting on the couch in front of the fireplace in invitation.

Picking up the novel, you collapsed against the soft cushions before peering at the cover. It must have been one of Nesta’s books, a Sellyn Drake novel like those she’d been trying to get you to read for awhile now.

Pulling a throw pillow under your head, you flipped open the book, quickly finding yourself lost in the story. You had no idea how long you’d been reading when the two main characters found themselves in an inn with only one bed to share. You read of hands slipping between thighs, light teasing touches, gasps at the exquisite pleasure being exchanged.

You found that heat building between your own thighs once again, desire making it difficult to focus on the book. Tugging your lip between your teeth, you set the novel to the side, freeing your hands to explore.

Brushing your nipples through your shirt, you mewled with need when your hand drifted lower, featherlight touches teasing yourself as you slipped beneath the waistband of your pants.

“Enjoying the book, pet?” a familiar voice drawled from the doorway, sending a chill down your spine and halting your movements. Your wide eyes flicked to where Nesta leaned by the wall, arms crossed and silver eyes glowing with amusement.

Breathless, you watched her stride toward you on long legs, her leathers hugging her curves. “Which part were you reading?” she murmured, limbs stretching across the couch as her body settled over yours.

Nesta’s hands pulled your own from where it rested on your lower abdomen, her eyes focused keenly on you while you stumbled through the plot of the book. Just as you began to recount the scene at the inn, Nesta popped your fingers in her mouth, licking and sucking fervently while she nodded for you to continue.

Somehow managing to breathe out the steamy details to Nesta - despite her lips around your fingers, hips grinding against yours while she straddled you - you loosed a sigh of relief when she relented her efforts in favor of releasing you.

Standing for only a moment, Nesta stripped off her pants and turned away from you, showing off her perfect ass as she did. You started to lean forward, eager to meet Nes where she stood, but the female clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“Lay back, love. Stay still for me,” Nesta purred, flashing a grin over her shoulder as she settled above your face. The scent of her arousal was dizzying, the need to please her consuming your thoughts.

As though she could sense your desperation, Nesta hummed a “good girl” before sinking down onto you. Slick core pressed against your nose, her clit perched perfectly atop your mouth for your tongue to flick out against the swollen bud.

Her hips rolled against you on instinct, a soft moan escaping Nesta’s lips at your mouth on her. “Just like that, pet,” she breathed, hands pulling your still-soaked digits towards your heat. “Touch yourself while I read this.”

Picking up your book, Nes began to read the scenes you described, her wetness growing and spreading sloppily across your face as you ate her out. One hand wrapped around her waist, encouraging the rhythm of her hips against your lips, while the other followed her directions to your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your legs jerk against the couch in ecstasy.

You felt Nesta’s core clench, her hips shaking as she moaned your name, dropping the book when her orgasm rocked through her. The scent of her invaded your senses, weight settling fully over you as you released muffled cries against her warm center, your own high crashing into you.

Panting for air, you sighed with relief and longing at the loss of her heat on your face. Eyes struggled to focus, finally finding Nesta’s gaze on yours as she lifted your fingers to her mouth once more and licked your release clean.

“I need more,” Nes nearly growled, a wolfish grin formed on her full lips. “I’m not done with you tonight,” she promised, heat dancing in her eyes like flame when her hand wrapped around your wrist. “Come with me.”

You followed dutifully back up to your bedroom, stripping as directed before laying back on the mattress and watching Nesta undress.

“I got something new for us, love. To use when the boys are gone,” she explained, rifling through her nightstand before pulling out a strap with a dildo attached to the end. But this one was different from Nesta’s strap; it was simple and black with one buckle around the back.

Sensing your confusion, Nesta grinned wickedly. “This one is for you to wear, sweet girl,” she purred, bare hips straddling your own as she lifted the toy to your mouth to demonstrate. “If that’s okay,” she amended, laughing when you eagerly nodded and lifted your head for her to secure the gag.

“So good for me,” Nesta cooed, golden brown hair falling down in a curtain around her as she smiled down at you. “I just need you to lay there and take it for now.”

Hips settled over the toy perched on your mouth, Nesta’s puffy center spreading her slick over the tip before sinking down. You moaned through the gag at the sight, your mate filled up and bending over to hover your core. Gentle hands spread your thighs before Nesta dove in without warning, tongue making wicked movements against your clit as she began bouncing up and down on your face.

Helpless moans and squeals escaped you, sounds drowned out by the toy covering your face. “Just wait and see, love, what I have in store for us this week,” Nesta moaned, perked nipples brushing your stomach. “This is only the beginning.”

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killerlookz · 3 days

Note

Hello my fellow Criminal Minds fan! 😊

May I please request headcanons for Spencer falling for a female agent who’s cynical about love and relationships due to being hurt in the past?

a/n: thank you sm for the request! i'd be happy to write this for you! :-)

Falling in Love Again | Spencer Reid Headcannons

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

content: mentions of reader having been cheated on in the past, uhhhh that's really it haha

word count: 1,478 (sorry she's so long)

Spencer Reid had always been excited about falling in love, the thought of being so close to another person- to share so much with someone was such a wonderful thing to him.

Especially after watching his mom and dad growing up, and the way his father treated her-Spencer was dead set on never becoming anything like him, he looked forward to treating a woman right and spending the rest of his life with her.

But, for as excited as he was he was probably 20 times more nervous about the whole falling in love thing.

So when you came around, and he started to experience that warm, creeping feeling in his chest- he felt a little bit like his world was going to end.

Spencer had never made a move on anyone before, sure he did make out with Lila Archer that one time but he didn't exactly initiate it.

Spencer decided just to channel all of his romantic interest in becoming friends with you, at least he got to spend time with you, that's what really mattered to him. Maybe one day it would turn into something more.

Well.. he hoped until he couldn't help but overhear...

"I went on my first date in months last night, and all this guy did was talk about himself the entire time- didn't let me get a word out, I mean, can you believe it?" Emily says, exasperated

You look up at her as she stands in front of your desk, "Oh, trust me Emily, I can believe it." You shake your head

"I mean," She throws her hands up, "What is it with men? What's wrong with them."

"Everything," You smirk, "They're men. I can't remember I had a good experience with one of them- never maybe?" You laugh. "I've given up on dating."

Your words sunk into Spencer's brain, leaving him with a heavy feeling all around he felt awful- not just about the fact that his chances with you seemed to reduce to zero right there in that moment, but because of how upset you seemed under your sarcastic exterior, he could tell you'd really been hurt before.

A few weeks later you're out for drinks with Emily, Penelope, Morgan, Spencer, and JJ. Amidst the loud, drunken conversations and music at the bar- you can hear the faint chiming sounds of your ring tone, Who would be calling this late?

As you take your phone from your pocket, your stomach drops when you see the number flashing on the screen. The mere sight of those 10 digits making you want to throw your phone to the ground and stomp on it until nothing remains.

"Ooooh, who's that calling." Morgan smirks

You look him dead in the eyes and respond flatly, "My ex."

Morgan's smile doesn't fade instead his smirk seems to deepen, "You two got a little thang goin on?"

"No," You shove your phone back in your pocket, "More like he's trying to get back in my pants after cheating on me- twice."

"Ooh!" Morgan responds, wincing, "So he's a dog."

"A pig is more like it." You scoff, "Who does he think he is. I can't even imagine giving my time to another man again, and even if I could- what makes him so confident I'd give him the time of day."

That familiar heavy pain hits Spencer again.

He's staring at you, and it's like the rest of the bar doesn't even exist. Only you, as you bite your lip, trying to hide any emotion in your face.

Spencer has become good at reading your emotions, maybe it's because he spends so much time with you- maybe it's because of how often he finds himself staring at your face. As much as you try to seem nonchalant, he could tell how upset you are.

Spencer would spend more time than he wanted to admit fantasizing about treating you well, about giving you the love you never seemed to have.

Every time you made a snarky comment about love, or how men had treated you in the past Spencer would want so desperately bad to just tell you about how well he would treat you, how he would never ever hurt you, how he would spend his entire life taking care of you.

The words were practically scratching up his throat, begging to be let out. But still, he would just swallow them down, and give you a sympathetic look, he couldn't muster up being able to do anything more.

At the very least, Spencer's plan of becoming friends with you was working.

The two of you would become very good friends.

Spencer would learn everything he could about you, he would want to know as much as possible.

Not in a weird creepy way- but in a he just thinks you're so amazing he can't get enough of you sort of way.

Every time you and Spencer hung out he wouldn't be able to ignore that nagging feeling, the thought of putting an arm around you and pulling you close, of holding your hand in his, or placing a delicate kiss on your cheek.

The thoughts would eat away at Spencer, and he would only fall more, and more in love with you.

Still, he would lose more hope every time you divulged information about your prior encounters with love. He couldn't blame you for feeling so cynical it, not after what you'd been through.

Spencer would think about his mom, about all the wives Rossi had been through, about Hotch and Hailey, about you- he would wonder why love had to be so painful for some people. He was sure he would never hurt somebody he loved.

One day you're over Spencer's apartment, watching a rom-com, and you make a snide remark, "Oh, real love isn't like that." You scoff and roll your eyes.

Spencer doesn't know what it is, but something in him makes him respond, "It could be." He says meekly

You look up at him, caught off guard at his disagreement, "Hm?" you hum

Spencer wasn't able to take it any more, he hated hearing your cynical nature. He would need you to know how you deserved the entire world.

"Love- It can be like the movies." He affirms his stance.

"Not in my experience."

"I would give you love like that." Spencer would tremble as he makes his confession, so unsure of what would happen next.

He would be terrified of your reaction, scared he was about to mess everything up, ruin any future the two of you had together, and even worse, lose your friendship.

"W-what do you mean, Spence."

"I mean, you always talk about how you've been hurt before, and it just-" He takes a deep breath in, contemplating what he's going to say next, "I love you, y/n," He looks down at his lap, then back up at you, "I would never hurt you."

Despite the obvious passion in Spencer's voice, you were still hesitant about it, but everything inside of you told you to give Spencer a chance.

Spencer would insist on taking things slow, you were his first real relationship and he wouldn't want to rush things, for both his and yours sake. He wouldn't pressure you to put a label on things, or even say you're "dating"- those would come on your own time.

Spencer was determined to make you believe in love again, and he would do everything in his power to make sure you knew without a doubt how he felt about you.

Spencer would often get to work before you to surprise you with coffee and a breakfast sandwich, or a donut on your desk in the mornings.

He would insist on having a date night at least once a week, even if the two of you were on a case, ordering room service or finding a local pizza restaurant way late at night was sufficient, as long as the two of you got to spend time together.

Spencer would be hesitant about PDA or really moving too quickly into being too affectionate, still, he would frequently hold your hand, squeezing it tight when he could tell you were stressed or upset- either by a case or by life in general, he just wanted to give you that extra reassurance that he was there for you.

Spencer would really put the work in, he'd exert more effort than you had ever seen from any past relationship into even the tiniest things.

Spencer wouldn't mind though, anything he could do to reassure you that he loves and cares about you, he would do it.

Every little act of love and gratitude would be worth it to him.

He would savor and cherish every hug, every shared glance, every peck on the forehead, on the cheek, on the lips.

It was all worth it to him, every second of it- all he wanted to do was make you smile, to make you fall in love again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid headcannons #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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lilasamaaa · 2 days

Text

In the crowd | Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genres | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count | 3.6K.

Warnings | Alcohol consumption, drugs, mentions of violence.

Summary | Reader's an engineer at Scuderia Ferrari in Maranello. While attending the season's launch party, her drink gets spiked.

Author's Note | Hi all! After the longest time, I've felt the need to come back here for some silly writing. New blog because the last one got cringe. Let me know what you think!

One might think that after two years within the scuderia, the season’s launch parties would make her less uneasy. That after two years of being apart of the engineering team, she would finally be used to attending public gatherings. That after two years, she’d be a natural at walking in the open, feeling the glances slide over her figure. She is stunningly beautiful. Perhaps that's her burden. She doesn't realize it.

When she walks across the paddock or the stands, she knows people are staring at her. She avoids meeting their gazes, feeling embarrassed. She thinks there must be something wrong with her outfit, with her gait. Why else would they stare for so long?

In Maranello, there’s a bakery at the corner of the HQ building where she stops every morning. The cashier always offers her something extra. A coffee. An additional pastry. She finds him polite, very customer-oriented. One morning, as she was freeing her croissant from the paper napkin it was wrapped in, she’d discovered a phone number scrawled in pen ink, with a hastily drawn smiley face. She’d stared at the napkin, perplexed, seated at her desk. He must have made a mistake, she thinks. It must have been meant for the customer before her. The one with the beautiful blonde curls and the Chanel perfume. She didn't call, didn't send a message. She continued to visit the bakery. The cashier never mentioned the number, proving her theory.

Someone brushing past her brings her back to earth. The party is in full swing, and she’s just not. She spots her colleagues bustling around the buffet and the bar, engrossed in lively conversations. While some don't even notice her, others wave their hands, encouraging her to join them. She forces a smiles, returns the wave. Then she tightens her grip around her clutch. Anything to make her feel like she’s in control. To make her forget that the music’s too loud, the lights too vibrant, the air too hot.

She doesn't remember ever feeling comfortable in her body. Years of growing up in an unstable family where love was doled out sparingly do that to a person.

"Hey," comes a familiar voice. She turns her head, her big eyes catching sight of Livio’s, one of her colleagues. "Are you not dancing?" he continues, a drink in hand. His whiskey breath hits her straight on. She discreetly glances at her watch, noting that it's barely nine.

"I haven't had enough to drink for that," she replies, trying to dodge the invitation.

"Let's go get you something then," Livio responds, grabbing her arm and heading towards the bar.

She's noticed that men always do that with her. Not just her colleagues, but people she doesn't know either. She's too kind, too gentle; she never raises her voice. So they grab her by the hips, the arms, the wrists. Anything is an excuse to touch her. She hates it.

"What do you want?" Livio asks.

Nothing, really, but she can't say that.

"Something sweet, please. I don't like strong alcohol," she replies. Livio seems to ponder her question for a second, his mouth pursed.

"I have something for you to try, wait," he continues, signaling to the bartender. "You're going to like it, don't worry."

A few seconds later, a glass of Plymouth is placed in front of her, and she looks up at Livio. Does he think I've never tasted gin in my life? she wonders, puzzled. She would like to refuse the drink, ask for the cherry liqueur she discovered last time indeed. But already, Livio has grabbed her glass and hands it to her with a big smile. "Salute," he exclaims, downing his own glass in one gulp.

Cries and applause suddenly echo in the large reception hall, causing her to turn her head. It takes her a few minutes to understand the reason for this sudden commotion. Until she sees them, a few meters away.

Charles and Carlos.

Her eyes can't seem to tear away from the two pilots making their way through the crowd to a small stage where a microphone is set up. It's tradition : to kick off the season in style, the entire team eagerly awaits the drivers' speeches. Everyone wants to hear their words, their encouragements, their hopes and goals for the season.

A friend once asked her if she knew Charles and Carlos personally. She can't really say yes. That would be a lie. She's exchanged words with each of the athletes before, giving them information about the race, their car, and the expected weather. These exchanges have always been brief and cordial. Professional. Nothing more.

Even though... No, she thinks, lightly shaking her head. That was nothing. But still...

It had happened just before the race in Singapore, last year.

A friend from engineering school had moved there at the beginning of the year, and they had agreed to meet for dinner at a fancy restaurant in the city. It was an opportunity to reminisce about the years spent at Polytechnique, studying (a bit), suffering (a lot), and getting drunk (a whole lot).

She had chosen a long emerald green silk dress, slit up to mid-thigh. The perfect balance between classy and sexy. She had no intention of charming her companion - notoriously attracted to men, anyway - but this meal was the perfect excuse to leave her eternal Ferrari jumpsuits for something more feminine.

In the long corridor leading to the elevator, she'd suddenly felt on a catwalk, letting herself get caught up in the moment and rolling her hips perhaps a tad too exaggeratedly. The person emerging from the corner at the far end of the corridor surprised her, but not enough to disrupt her stride, her heels clicking against the floor.

She had recognized him immediately, of course.

Dressed in a simple fitted black polo and a pair of dark jeans, his eyes had not left hers throughout their crossing. When the two had finally reached the same level, she'd breathed out a small "Good evening, Carlos," suddenly insecure about everything. Her outfit. Her gait. The messy bun revealing her neck. The cleavage leaving no room for a bra and showing the beginning of her breasts.

He had passed her, nodding in acknowledgment, and each had continued on their way. She was certain... No, almost certain, that she had dreamt the words that had followed.

"That's one lucky guy."

Yes, she was almost certain she had dreamt it. Watching the Spaniard in the distance take hold of the microphone and tap it gently to check the connections, she became increasingly convinced. There was no chance that this man, chiseled from marble, could have noticed her. Desired her.

His accent echoes throughout the room, and she instinctively closes her eyes, as if bathed in the gentle sun of Madrid. She's not listening - not really - only catching words here and there. "Truly an honor," "Very impressed by your efforts," "Promising changes." But her mind is elsewhere, between Maranello and Singapore, tethered to the memory that makes her lower abdomen tingle in the sweetest of ways.

"And now, it's time to celebrate!" Carlos says as the room erupts with joy and anticipation.

"Earth to you?" comes a much less pleasant voice than the one that has just quieted down.

"I'm sorry, what?" she says, returning her attention to Livio.

"Oh, wow, you've got to be kidding me. Is it just me, or are you completely absorbed by this guy?" Livio replies, his mouth twisted in a grimace.

"Who?" she asks, genuinely confused.

"Sainz. You were hanging on his every word."

"I just think it's nice that they're giving an encouraging speech. Both of them," she explains, avoiding the Italian's gaze.

"Yeah, okay. Should we get another drink?" he asks, taking hold of her arm again.

She wants to protest. She can still taste the gin at the back of her mouth. It can't have been more than twenty minutes since her first drink. But Livio is already almost dragging her behind him, clearly determined not to let her escape tonight. And once again, that hand locks around her arm. Firm. Not open to discussion. She feels something almost territorial in the gesture, something that strongly displeases her, so she vows to mention it to Livio. Someday. Not tonight.

This time, he doesn't even pretend to care about what she wants to drink, ordering two whiskies straight away. She hates it. The taste, the look, what this alcohol does to her mind and body. But Livio has already slipped two bills to the bartender, and a moment later, the amber liqueur lands in her right hand.

While her drinking companion is already tilting his head back, clearly unaware that this type of alcohol is to be savored and not downed in one go, she observes the glass, intrigued by the few bubbles that are forming on the surface. I had no idea whiskey could do that, she thinks before bringing the liquid to her lips.

A few minutes later, she's managed to shake off Livio by claiming she needed to use the restroom. She crosses paths with Carlos walking in the other direction, maybe three people ahead of her, but he doesn't notice her.

In front of the restroom mirror, touching up her lipstick, her focus changes as she sees a drop of sweat trickle down her temple and slide slowly onto her cheek. I'm rather cold, though, she thinks, almost suppressing a shiver. Her head suddenly feels very light. She blames the alcohol. Putting her lipstick back in her clutch and tucking a strand of hair that threatened to escape from her bun, she pushes the restroom door open again, bracing herself to face the social world once more.

Passing by the buffet, a wave of nausea washes over her, forcing her to stop for a few seconds, leaning against the table and closing her eyes.

"I thought it was you," echoes the sunny accent in her ears. With her eyes still closed, she wishes their new encounter, one that she'd admit she's dreamed about, had happened differently. At a better time. A time when she wasn't battling a fierce urge to throw up.

"Are you okay?" Carlos inquires, raising his hand as if to support her but stopping halfway.

She takes a few seconds to push the unpleasant sensations from her body as far away as possible before lifting her head, opening her eyes, and being rewarded with the exquisite sight of his luscious hair and amber eyes.

"Hi," she manages to utter in a faint voice. "Great speech," she continues, still leaning against the table.

"You look pale," the driver responds, looking concerned.

The words escape her lips before they even reach her brain. She regrets them instantly. Something inside her just give way, like a dam.

"Sorry. I must have looked better in Singapore," she says.

Carlos widens his eyes, surprised, before letting out an awkward laugh.

"Sorry for staring at you like that, that night. You were... Well, you are...," he continues, seeming to search for his words.

She would so love to hear the rest, to know what he was going to say. But dizziness seizes her, and she feels herself tipping against the table. Well, almost, because suddenly, an arm wraps around her waist, pressing her against a chest that, yes, she's also dreamed about several times. But not like this. Not in this state.

"Hey," Carlos says, his voice tinged with worry.

"I'm so sorry, this never happens to me. I must have had one drink too many, I—"

"I saw you at the bar not even ten minutes ago," the Spaniard continues. "No alcohol hits you that fast. Not even shots."

"I'm fine," she says, and the pilot understands that she's saying it not only to reassure him but herself as well. And, as if the words had commanded it, the fog in her mind dissipates a bit. Enough for her to gently detach herself from the pilot, finding her balance on her own two feet again. She'd like to take advantage of this newfound clarity to keep the Spaniard close to her. Him, that she never crosses paths with, whom she never speaks to, and yet who appeals to her so much.

But Charles arrives. He smiles at her, asks if she's okay, if she's enjoying the evening, and oh, "I'll borrow him for a moment, I'm so sorry, sponsors, you know," and oh, once again, she finds herself alone at the buffet, watching the two men walk away, Carlos still watching her as he reluctantly retreats.

"I was beginning to think he'd never leave," Livio says, leaning against the buffet, his hip brushing against hers.

She wants to scream. Oh, how badly she wants to.

Sensing that she's not going to respond, the Italian tries his luck again.

"Should we dance? You seem intoxicated enough, now."

She doesn't even have time to respond before her colleagues guides her onto the dance floor, eagerly pressing his body against hers. His breath, previously tinged with whiskey, now betrays hints of tequila. The guy never has enough, she thinks, twirling reluctantly.

And there it goes again. The nausea, the queasiness. Spinning her around like a puppet doesn't help, she tells herself. She comes to a halt, cutting off Livio's momentum, causing some dancing couples to narrowly avoid colliding with them. Feeling vulnerable, she tries to get away, to seek refuge elsewhere. But her wrist is once again trapped.

"You don't look well. Come on, let's get you some fresh air," Livio says, heading towards one of the large glass doors.

She's often been described as naive by her loved ones. She believes that the whole world means well towards her, never suspects anyone of ill intentions. She would even say about herself that she has no instincts, let alone survival instincts. No sense of danger. Yet, perhaps for the first time in her life, something deep inside her is screaming not to follow the man. Her signals are on alert. Everything is flashing red in her mind. For her, it's a first. So, without thinking, without worrying about offending her colleague, she acts.

"I don't need to go outside," she says, trying to free herself from his grasp. She's sweating. She feels the unpleasant sensation of a thin layer of dampness creeping over her neck, her back, her hands.

Her feeble resistance is no match for Livio's strength, as he pulls her outside despite her protests. The music is too loud for anyone to hear their altercation. Divided between the buffet, the bar, and the dance floor, no one pays attention to this mismatched couple, to the determined man dragging a struggling woman behind him.

The door closes heavily behind them, stifling the sounds of the party, captured on the other side. It's cold outside, she feels it because her whole body shivers. But she, who was cold just a short while ago, feels like she's boiling. She raises her hand to her forehead, wiping away another bead of sweat that's formed between her eyebrows. What's happening to me? she thinks internally, troubled. Alcohol has never put her in such a state before.

"I'm so glad I ran into you tonight," Livio begins, either oblivious or indifferent to the young woman's condition.

She doesn't respond, feeling her head spinning, leaning against the wall behind her, gasping to try to catch her breath. Trying to control the burning heat that's engulfing her body.

"You look really beautiful tonight. Quite a change from the work overalls, huh!" the man continues.

She's not exactly sure at what moment he slipped between her legs, facing her, just a few centimeters from her face. But he's there, too close, forcing her to turn her head to the side to avoid his gaze - and his alcohol-laden breath.

"I said, you look really beautiful tonight," Livio says. "Are you not going to say anything?"

"What do you expect me to say to that?" she says, jaw clenched.

"Do you find me attractive?" the man asks, meeting her gaze.

The warning signals reappear along with the nausea. She barely has time to push the man away and lean to the side before emptying her stomach inches away from his feet. The naivety stops there. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place, realization hitting her painfully.

"What did you do to me?" she asks, her knees giving way under her weight, sending her crashing to the ground. He sneers, rolling his eyes, as she crawls a few meters, trying to put some distance between them. She's now sitting on the ground, her back to the wall.

"What? What are you talking about?" the Italian replies, offended.

"Did you put something in my drink?" she asks again.

"Come on, now. I've been helping you ever since you said you weren't feeling well. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

For a moment, her colleague's wounded look makes her seriously doubt herself. Maybe it really is just the alcohol, she thinks, trying to calm her racing mind. After all, why would someone deliberately choose to harm her? Why jump to that conclusion? Livio has always been charming. A bit clingy, but charming.

"I'm sorry for implying that. I'm gonna head back inside," she says, trying to stand up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Livio answers, pushing her back down.

"What? why?" she asks, surprised.

"It wouldn't be very wise to parade in front of your colleagues and superiors in such a poor state," the Italian begins, his tone almost mocking. "It really doesn't give a good impression of you. It's not very professional."

"I haven't done anything, just had a few drinks," she responds, annoyed. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"You're so wasted you can't even stand. At a work event. Do you want to get fired or something?"

She opens her mouth to speak, to defend herself, but no words come out. She can't seem to figure out if Livio is with her or against her anymore. His words are harsh, aggressive, but deep down, the engineer probably isn't wrong. She struggled to secure a position here, at Ferrari. Even though she believes herself to be fairly skilled at her job and puts in long hours, there are hundreds of others doing the same work as her every day. And hundreds more who could replace her if the need arose.

She's not indispensable. She's not even that good at speaking Italian, having always had more ease in English or in French, even though she spends the majority of her evenings reading books in the language. She's just a tiny cog in the machine. She thinks about Carlos, too. What would he think, seeing me stumbling in the middle of the dance floor like a mad woman?

"Let me drive you home," Livio says, extending his hand. "Spare you the embarrassment.

She hadn't realized how tired she was. The offer is rather tempting. Getting back to her apartment, her cat, her bed. Above all, escaping the crowd. Forgetting this evening. Forgetting whatever she thought there was with Carlos, too, while she's at it. As a stronger wave of sleep washes over her, she temporarily closes her eyes.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get you in the car."

After her brain, her legs refuse to cooperate too. Her body barricades itself, trying to keep her firmly sheltered. Losing patience, Livio hoists her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She wants to protest against the position she finds herself in. That's so unladylike. Her last few connected neurons grapple over strange thoughts. I hope nobody sees my underwear, she thinks before her brain disconnects once again.

She's so far gone, yet the next words sound crystal-clear in her ears.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Sounds like Carlos, she thinks, delirious.

"What does it look like to you? I'm bringing her home. She's wasted," she hears, and she thinks it might be Livio, because she feels his body shaking with each words.

"There's no way I'm letting you leave with her. Put her down."

"Yeah? So you can have your way with her?"

"No, so I can punch you in the fucking face," the accent-thick voice shouts.

She must have passed out for good because she doesn't remember anything else. When she wakes up next, which feels like an eternity later, she's sitting against a wall, this time indoors, wrapped in a golden emergency blanket. There's no more music. Opening one eye, then the next, she's met with Carlos' brown ones. She tries to speak but her mouth feels dry. The Spaniard hands her a glass of water, helping her bring it to her lips.

"I somehow managed to look even worse," she jokes, reminiscing their earlier encounter.

"The paramedics have just arrived. They're going to take you to the hospital for a check-up," he says and she nods.

"Thank you, Carlos," she replies.

"I haven't done the half of what I would have wanted," he says, regret filling his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"This has to be the worst timing ever, But I... I actually wanted to ask you out, before Charles interrupted us and before, well... this," he says, gesturing around them.

He doesn't see it, but hidden under the blanket, she pinches her arm. Hard. Just to make sure she won't wake up a second time. Seeing that nothing changes, she lets out a little laugh.

"If you wanted me to wear that silky green dress, I'm so sorry, but I ruined it in the washer."

"You can wear a garbage bag for all I care," Carlos replies, looking at her fondly. "You'll still stand out in the crowd."

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #formula1 #f1 2024 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you

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1800-fight-me · 3 days

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Hiiiiiiii. :)

First I love love love your fics.

You’re awesome.

Secondly you have a fic called duty and honor or something like that, where Aemond goes to war and his little wife is pregnant.

In it Aegon makes comments to her that she doesn’t like. I was wondering if you would write a continuation fic where now Aemond is back he over hears his brother and becomes all protective knowing this has been happening all the time he was away as well.

Just love protective pissed off In love Aemond and the way you write him, makes a girl swoon :) 🌹

Of Retribution & Desire

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature) (as always - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Violence, reader is a couple weeks postpartum, Aemond being protective

Word count: About 1.3k

Synopsis: Your husband defends your honor and protects you from the hateful words of his brother.

Author’s note: This ask is from the summer of last year lmao my bad,,, I've been going through it lately but hopefully this fic was worth the wait and still makes you swoon! Thanks for the love and support! Hopefully this is also the start of me being more involved in writing and the fandom again! This is part three of my first ever Aemond fic!!

Part one - Of Duty and Honor

Part two - Of War and Longing

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

“It certainly appears to be true that childbirth takes away a woman’s beauty,” Aegon practically sneered at you as he looked up and down your body.

It was merely two weeks after you gave birth to Aemond’s daughter and your emotions were all over the place.

His words filled you with such anger and self consciousness that your body could not hold in the emotions.

Most embarrassingly, your eyes filled with tears. You were aghast at your reaction. Though Aegon often frustrated you, you certainly did not care enough about his opinion on your appearance for his words to cut so deep.

Though if you were honest with yourself, you were already uncomfortable with your appearance today and wished you could have avoided today’s gathering. Though Aemond had assured you that you looked lovely, it was obvious to you, despite your lady’s maid’s best efforts, that you were exhausted. You felt uncomfortable in your own skin, your body went through massive changes and had not had the time and chance to adjust back.

So there, in front of Aegon and the rest of your in-laws, you began to cry.

Damn these uncontrollable emotions that came on so strongly after giving birth.

You wanted to run and hide, and turned to do just that when Aemond walked in the room.

His brow knitted in concern and his footsteps quickened as soon as he saw you.

He was at your side and pulled you into his larger frame as he looked down at you.

“What is wrong?” He asked, his voice tight. His gaze was on you before his eye darted around the room scanning it for danger or anything that could have caused your distraught state.

You pursed your lips, afraid to speak for fear of more embarrassing tears flowing.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice dark with the promise of violence.

You really didn’t want to be the cause of another fight between him and his brother.

“Aegon was being vile,” Heleana spoke up.

You looked back at her in surprise that she would speak up, stand up for you.

Aemond looked over your head at his brother and his eye narrowed.

“What did you say to my wife,” he practically growled.

Aegon visibly blanched and as quick as that your mood changed. You held back a smile. You were eager to see Aegon finally receive consequences for all the horrible things he’d said to you throughout your pregnancy when Aemond was off winning his war.

“N-nothing,” he said and you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

Aemond glanced down at you. He could’ve asked you but it was clear he wanted to make his brother sweat, make him admit to hurting you.

He glared at Aegon who chose to glare back.

Alicent let out a long suffering sigh and explained to Aemond what had been said.

“That’s not the only thing he’s said too, right?” Heleana asked, her voice sweet and innocent. It amused you that she continued to push the issue, trying to get her husband in trouble.

A horrible thought clanged through you that every vile comment he’d made to you, at least you had Aemond’s protection. Maybe it was worse for her. And maybe getting Aemond to punish Aegon for how he treated you was a safe way for her to get retribution as well.

So you met her eyes, took a deep breath, set your jaw, and turned back to your husband. You told him every awful thing you could remember that Aegon said to you those eight months that Aemond was gone.

You ignored Aegon, looking only at your husband as you spoke.

As you finished, the tension in the room was thick, and it became so quiet, quiet enough that you could hear Aegon take a step back.

Aemond took a deep calming breath, gently brushed you aside, then lunged towards his brother.

“Aemond!” Alicent yelled in protest.

“Aemond,” you murmured, a weak attempt to dissuade him, your heart not truly in it as you protested along with her.

You took another step back, your body still weak from giving birth, not having any interest in getting involved in a physical fight, and watched as your husband punched his brother in the face to defend your honor.

He looked like an avenging angel, you thought, as his white hair flew around, his upper lip curled into a snarl, and the look in his eye promised pain.

You wondered at it, the smooth grace with which he attacked, it caused your heart to pound, and you knew it was not from fear.

He really only got two good hits in before the King’s Guards intervened and pulled him away. But it was glorious to behold.

His assault was so quick and vicious, Aegon didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

Alicent was distraught, but Heleana sidled up beside you and gave you a small smile which you returned.

The fact of the matter was, you were incredibly turned on. Uncomfortably turned on as you watched Aemond be violent to defend your honor.

You were ready to drag him to your rooms and make another baby, but then your aching body reminded you that you were in no shape to do any such thing.

Aemond yanked himself out of the grip of one of the guards and strode to you.

He tilted your face up with a finger beneath your chin so your gaze would meet his own that was filled with fire. And smirked at the desire in your eyes.

He pressed a brief but firm kiss to your wanting lips, you heard Aegon yelling something but ignored him completely.

You slipped your hand into Aemond’s, his knuckles a little bloody, and tugged on him slightly, leading him out and away from the chaos.

As you exited the room you gripped his tunic, and he backed you against the wall.

He placed his hands against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in, and with the heat - the fire - between the two of you, there was nothing you could do but rise up on your tiptoes and press your lips to his.

And these past weeks with your daughter, the nine months before that as you carried her, had been amazing, one of the most joyful experiences of your life. But, you were not only her mother, you were also Aemond’s wife.

And he reminded you of that, reminded you that you are his wife and he desires you, as he kissed you back, kissed you hard, kissed you in a way that made your toes curl.

This was not the sweet, short, gentle way he had kissed you since she was born, no. This was your dragon filling you with his fire again.

His lips moved against yours, opening you up so his tongue could sweep against your own.

His hand left the wall to grip your waist, and self consciousness at your changed body flared up, but was soon smothered by his desire as he pushed his body closer to yours, pushed you further against the wall, pressed against him completely.

He groaned into your mouth and you nipped at his bottom lip in response. Finally, your body sang, like you were shaken awake by the heat.

You whimpered against his lips, and his tongue danced with yours in response.

Your body throbbed with desire… and then pain that reminded you that although your spirit felt ready to be joined with your husband in carnal desire again, your body certainly was not.

You pulled back, your breathing hard, and he smiled softly as he beheld you. His hand grazed up from your waist, slowly and gently, until he cupped your cheek.

“I can’t-“ you tried to explain, but he shook his head, understanding in his gaze.

“I know,” he murmured.

He kissed you again, this time gentle and slow, filled with care and affection rather than heat and desire.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” you said sweetly.

He chuckled and said, “I love you too, little wife. Let’s go hold our daughter before that look in your eyes convinces me to fill you with another.”

You giggled and took his hand and allowed your prince, your defender, your husband to lead you to your daughter.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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cm-lily · 1 day

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I read a fanfic once, I forgot which one. But in that fic, they have this idea where Gem and Grian's base has this... Foggy vibe to it. Like compare it to the cherry mountain that's all pink and petals and then you have these two bases which are straight up The Horrors™

I Just love that idea

So much I've been thinking, what if the whole Magic Mountain is surrounded by fog? A magic fog and mist that just always surround the area and got thicker as the sun set further. The area always seems cloudy. As if there is an eternal cloud forever covering the mountains. It's either raining, or storm, or cloudy. The only time it's clear is when Grian finally got his mending book, the pink snail arrive, and it switch to storm when Scar got the mending book. (He got struck by lightning a few time if he reaches that area)

Joel's base not only has lantern illuminating it, but souls as well. They didn't stay idle, but never went too far. Some of them even transform, Into tanuki or fox or wolves and even Koi fish and Axolotl. That fly in the air instead of water, obviously.

Sometimes there's things passing by on Impulse's build. Something tall and slender, with long limbs and sharp claws. They're not Enderman, Enderman don't crawl. Impulse said they're cool if you pretend they didn't exist and just let them... Lurks around.

Something is wrong with Mumbo's base. I want to call it decaying, but it's not. It's more like redstone veins appear around the blackened grass, the air smells like gunpowder and something acid. Or maybe copper.

Many hermits had reported seeing the sight of a statue angel that just appear on top of Skizz's unfinished Pyramid. It appear when they're looking at it, but then they look around and it's gone. The statue has never been in the same position everytime someone look at it.

Most people don't like going to Scar's base at night, not only because of how creepy it look like surrounded by those fog. Like the rest of them, something strange always happens. Like animals looking bigger and more beast-like the moment night arrive, ever seen a cow just grows multiple horns and it sounds like those horn are breaking out of it's skull? Or that one time, one time his horse stand up on two feet? Probably not. Scar said they're harmless. Except for the snail—he said. The snail isn't his. That's why they damaged his build and become a nuisance.

(There was once a time, a time where clouds whirled around his ore pillar, clouds that are made of limbs and hand and eyes and it just stretched and climb down from the pillar. It never reach the ground, fortunately.)

Grian never stopped fishing. Even if it rains or stormed outside. He's smelly and that's why snails like him and his horse don't. Totally not because Pluto saw him turn into giant mer-man with many eyes and tails and sharp tooth. Definitely not. Don't feel weird when you feel like you're being watched. Or because shadow-like silhouette wander around his wheat farm, or a silhouette of something massive that was illuminated everytime lightning strikes, looking down from the cherry mountain toward his and Gem's base and, occasionally, you felt like you found a body you recognize in the water—

And that's where Gem comes in! Gem is someone who stopped you before you decide to jump in the water and check who's that corpse is. And the one who shooed off the many eyes that lurk in the muddy river side of Grian's base. Grian hates her for that but there's nothing he can do. Gem, like Grian, is someone who can walk in the middle of the storm unharmed. Most of the time, she make sure that none of the hermits fell into the trick of her other neighbors.

just don't let that distract you from the fact one of her build is actually sentient and breathing and is always staring at you. Or the fact there's blood around the rocky shores if you squint into the dark river/soon-to-be-ocean. Or the fact that, just like the angler, the skull always felt like it's watching even if there's no actually eyes in it's socket. Gem is always present when you want to have a tour or just so happened to passed that area, but... If she's not there to guide you, would it even be worth it to be stabbed with a trident and got dragged into the water?

#cm think #hc s10 #the magic mountain #grian #geminitay #joel smallishbeans #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #impulsesv #skizzleman #Let's add some Horrors to these silly minecrafter tehe #Yes I've been watching too much TMA/TMP and my yt shorts is filled with Doctor Who clip

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hwanchaesong · 2 days

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Idyllic (Mutual Pining) Preview

pairing: Jake X F!Reader

synopsis: He conceals his presence well and you are a good secret keeper. A combination that ends up in a museum of doubts and hesitance. Then again, a game of hide and seek never hurt anyone, right?

word count: tba

genre & warnings: angst, smut, fluff, warnings tba

a/n: this is a teaser for the upcoming Enhypen: Tropes & Parallels series that i've been working on. i hope y'all look forward to it. please don't hesitate to tell me if you wanted to be added to the taglist. tysm 🩷

You tried to hold your tears back, keen on not showing any signs of weakness, not on a special day like this.

It's your birthday, for fucks sake!

The day you were born, the day you graced the earth with your presence. It's a day where you're supposed to feel like you're the only girl in the world.

So why the fuck are you outside, in the garden of the party hall that your friends went through the trouble of renting? Why the fuck are you sitting on a grass while wearing your prettiest dress, weeping like a child?

"Y/N? Why did you leave the party?"

Ah, there's the reason.

Sim fucking Jaeyun, better known as Jake.

"No reason," you tried to stabilize your voice, key word: tried, "just needed some fresh air."

Jake squinted his eyes at your slumped figure, he'd be lying if he says that he believes that pathetic excuse of a lie that you told him. He'd be kidding himself if he says that he wasn't able to read your body language, clearly, something is bothering you.

"Tell me." he declares, walking closer to you and that turned on a switch in you, panicking on what you should say because he can't see you like this.

He's not supposed to see you in such a sorry state, sporting Rudolf's red nose when it's months away from Christmas. Fat, ugly tears pooling in your eyes and your mascara must be ruined by now. He's not supposed to see you being this down bad for him, to the point that you're willing to bawl your eyes out in a place like this.

"Don't come near me! Please, leave me alone." you accidentally yelled at him, wrapping your arms around yourself and totally losing it. You hid your face on your arms, sobbing quietly, not having it in you to continue bearing the pain of having the love of your life be the loss of your life in one night.

It was your fault. Everything was your fault.

You didn't confess to him when you had the chance. You let him meet new girls, you supported him when he said that he wanted to talk with the girl that was recently transferred in your class.

It was your fault for being a mess, for being a coward. It was your fault for settling in the title of being friends.

The times when you shared secret glances across the room, the touches that were far too long to be considered platonic but never really given the meaning that they deserve, the sweet nothings that you whisper to each other after a long, tiring day.

You were the culprit behind the heist, so really, you shouldn't act like the victim. It's unfair for him.

You deserve this, to be left alone, wallowing in self-pity and cursing yourself repeatedly until you couldn't breathe anymore.

As your castle crumbled, you felt warm arms around you, the familiar figure dropping to his knees, pulling you onto his sturdy body, fingers soothing through your tangled strands.

"Jake?" you whispered his name, hoping that it was him. Wishing that he didn't really leave you, that it's him holding you, comforting you through this situation that you've put yourself in.

He hummed, his answer making your heart explode into the most colorful shades of fireworks.

"I'll be the biggest asshole if I leave the girl I have prayed for all my life here, crying during the day that she was given to me by the gods."

taglist

@lilyuwon @ramenoil

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rosietrace · 2 days

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This is a personal rant about my thoughts on Greek mythology retellings, and just the way Fantasy books and the publishing industry is at this point 🧍‍♀️

I have nothing against Greek mythology retellings, or just anything Greek mythology related in fantasy in general!

However, I have certain gripes about the way Greek mythology is portrayed in media, specifically in the way its interpreted in Fantasy.

[ More under the cut! ]

I love Percy Jackson, and I think that Uncle Rick did a wonderful job at expanding the world and making Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Norse mythology entertaining and easily digestible for young audiences. Genuinely, he does a better job at writing children's books than R*wling could ever be capable of.

However, as much as I can love PJO as much as I do, I still find certain bits of the world building and character writing as... Very hit and miss.

To start, I don't like the way Ares was written in the series. I can understand that it would make sense for his personality to be that way, because he's the God of War and it helps with Clarisse's character development; but I find fault in it because Ares in the myths is nothing like PJO Ares. (He literally killed one of Poseidon's sons because he raped his daughter, Alcippe, and he's one of the only gods who doesn't hump anything that can breathe in air. At least Ares has the courtesy of asking for consent 💀)

The Gods being the reason behind WWII and Hitler being a child of Hades. All I must say.

The portrayal of the Aphrodite cabin

The fact that Athena can have children. Annabeth, pjo fandom at large, I love you are, but you gotta admit it must've felt weird when you first read the books and you find out Athena — the maiden Goddess of Wisdom — can have offspring. Regardless of the reasoning, I still find it weird 😭 (EDIT: I've now just remembered that it was a reference to how Athena herself was created 🤡 I'm a clown)

I get that the Hermes cabin is also the cabin for the unclaimed, but couldn't have Hestia's cabin worked too? She doesn't have offspring, sure, but it probably would've made more sense for the unclaimed to go to Hestia's cabin so that the Hermes cabin wouldn't be so crowded

This isn't really a world building issue, but I think I should bring it up: I'm not saying this against the Kane Chronicles fandom, but... Sadie and Anubis. Why. Like you can't convince me that no one WASN'T weirded out by that.

Less of a complaint and more of a question because I can't remember if the question was answered in HoO or not, but when Percy told the Gods to start claiming their unclaimed children and be more decent parents (as he should, go off king), did that request apply to the Romans at Camp Jupiter too? Because that's gotta have been confusing when the unclaimed kids at CP suddenly started getting claimed 😭😭

I could go on a whole ass tangent about PJO, but that would make this post longer than it needs to be 😭😭 and any of the points might not make much sense, since I haven't read the books in a LONG time

Off to the YA Fantasy segment... Hoo boy.

The oversaturation of Hades/Persephone retellings makes me SEETHE. Why is it always Hades and Persephone why can't it be something else 😭

I just don't like the “modern feminist” retellings of Greek myths in the YA Fantasy genre, in general. They tend to completely miss the point of the original myth, and it's the case with a lot of Hades and Persephone retellings where they try to paint Hades as the good guy taking Persephone away from her control freak mother, Demeter.

Because that wasn't what the myth was about. The myth isn't a love story, at least, not a romantic one. It was about Demeter's love for Persephone and how much she wanted her daughter back after Hades stole her away. Keep in mind, in the historical context of the myth, the daughters of women in ancient Greece never really get to see their mothers after their engagements are solidified.

If they wanted to make a “feminist” retelling of the myth, they'd have it centered around the love Demeter had for Persephone to almost doom the mortal realm to an eternal winter to get her back.

I love the myth of Hades and Persephone, truly, I do. I understand the appeal it has on people, the appeal it has one me. I can see why people adore the myth in the way they do because Hades is one of the better husbands in Greek mythology (a low bar, but my point still stands).

Personally, I blame Lore Olympus and especially the video of the myth by Overly Sarcastic Productions for the way the myth is portrayed in mass media. And I say this as a former LO fan and a fan of Overly Sarcastic Productions 😭

I'd also want to go into my many, MANY gripes about “Crown of Starlight” by Cait Corrain, but in all honesty? I don't think I can properly convey how much I DESPISE Cait and their book. So I'd highly recommend y'all to check out the videos about Cait Corrain by Reads With Rachel, WithCindy, and Xiran Jay Zhao on YouTube if you're interested in going into more detail about the controversies, especially for those who weren't made aware of it.

I feel like the publishing industry just... Isn't good anymore, after Booktok went viral. Reading has been “hot girlified”, and all Booktok seems to ask when they get recommended a book is: “Is it spicy??”

Reading is like fast fashion, now. It's all based around certain popular tropes that that's how books are promoted now. Not for the plot — or sometimes lack thereof — but for the tropes the book has.

The only thing I can thank Booktok for is that they helped me discover The Cruel Prince. And even then, it's marketed as romance on there, when it's a political fantasy with a romance subplot.

‼️ Woah! A secret bonus section! ‼️

I, personally, don't read — nor do I like — Sarah J Maas. (Especially considering the problematic aspects of her storytelling, character portrayals, and is (apparently, correct me if I'm wrong) a Zionist)

However, that isn't to say that I don't like some of the characters she makes. A lot of them have potential, actually! From what I've seen, I think Nesta, Gwyn, Azriel, Eris, Tamlin and Lucien from ACOTAR are the only characters I actually like, based on what I've heard — and seen — on anything in the SJM critical tag on this hellsite.

And while we're at it, let's discuss the elephant in the room with ACOTAR, right? Rhysand.

By all that is good and holy, I hate Rhysand so much and I think I'd hate him even more if I actually READ the books. I don't get why Booktok is so invested in him when Maas retconned Tamlin's character to make him look better as Feyre's love interest.

Also, from what I recall, didn't Rhysand sexually assault Feyre? And he didn't bother to apologize for it, and justified it with his sad tragic backstory??

I can't with y'all, istg 😭 the fact that “Feysand” is apparently a Hades and Persephone retelling too makes me even more mad about it because it isn't even a GOOD retelling. It just takes away what ACOTAR originally was— a Beauty and the Beast retelling, with Feyre and Tamlin as the leads.

Didn't Maas dedicate ACOTAR to her husband because “He would go under the mountain” for her??? BECAUSE IT CERTAINLY WASN'T RHYSAND WHO SAVED FEYRE FROM UTM, I'LL TELL YOU THAT

I think, out of all the series Maas has made thus far, Throne of Glass is the only one I ACTUALLY kind of like, based on what I've heard. Crescent City seems to be too complicated to understand, and even though I've never read it myself, I miss what ACOTAR could've been. (My hope lies with Nesta, Elucien and Gwynriel, at this point)

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letstalkhockey · 12 hours

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𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙖𝙢𝙥 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙣; 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

SUMMARY: Inwhich people change, and so does summer camp. Teenagers all spending summer together; with y/n falling in love with no other than Jack Hughes, will rivalry's and rules keep them apart? Or will status and no other than Jack himself, ruin everything?

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT *I do not encourage you to go beyond this point if you are sensitive to any further topics. MINORS DNI - Violence, Smut, Indications to smut, Alcohol & substance use, swearing, mentions to serious topics, etc.

NOTE: Welcome to the Prologue, which is the shortest part to this story. I apologize for not making it longer, but this prologue gives a tiny view into what the whole story will be without spoiling it. 🤍

MASTERLIST: main m.list

𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙖𝙢𝙥 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙣; 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚 - 1k+ words

Camp Michigan; my home away from home each summer since the ripe age of 8 years old. Camp Michigan had been where I spent summers, from being a camper, to now, at 16, attending camp and being a camp counselor with others my age who have been attending ever since we were young - and those new. Being at camp had either been the greatest experience of the one month you’d spend out of your two month break. Or the greatest challenge. Each year, a new decision is made. New memories are formed, and even new connections.

Camp michigan consisted of traditions, our annual yearly sleepover in dining hall, the annual late night swim, dodgeball torty - which always included someone getting injured from how competitive some people would be - the annual bonfire to kick-off the beginning, and my favorite, the treehouse, not so much a tradition, but something I created when I was younger. Only in a place where me and a few other members knew of. It was special, and I would always find myself there whenever I needed a break or a good sleep.

Each year it was one or the other, no inbetween, most of the years I've spent attending camp ever since the age of 8 years old, I found myself leaving with memories to last a life time, having spent my summers making them the greatest experiences of my entire life. That was, until the summer i turned 16, one whole year ago from right now; id been 15, getting on the bus for summer camp, my birthday slowly approaching, which had always been spent at camp, the staff would even get the other campers to help with baking a cake; even though each time it would end up in someone’s face, or awfully decorated, it still meant everything to me. We’d even have a huge party to celebrate; as if most of the summer hadn’t already consisted of fun activities, it was another added to the long list.

That was, until the summer I turned 16.

On my 16th birthday, August 14th, nothing. I mean nothing, no cake, no party, no anything. It was like any other day at camp. Except most of my day had been spent waiting around in my cabin for someone to come tell me it was all some joke, or that a surprise party was being held and they wanted to keep everything a secret. The most I'd gotten was a couple of ‘happy birthdays’ from my close friends, and even some random kids who’d I’d been with for years.

It was my 16th birthday - my sweet 16 at that. And I spent it cooped up in a cabin for most of the day, the night ending with some stupid activity no other than Jack Hughes and his weird counselor group had planned. Which had pissed me off more than anticipated. And I snapped at him. Like a full blown yelling match, he mocked me, and made me cry on my own birthday; we also got in trouble, well, I did. Almost got sent home, actually. From the moment he stepped foot to camp, he went by calling you a series of names you’d rather not elaborate on. He was only older than you by a few months, yet he acted like he had been ancient.

Jack Hughes first summer at camp michigan, was last summer. Yet he’d made friends with almost everyone, except for me and my counselor group. It was an unspoken rivalry that went back - these was always the girls group, and the guys group. Always having a leader; being me for my girls, and Jack for his boys. He’d claimed that title almost immediately, somehow robbing my good friend miles of his seniority, which was supposed to mean he was leader. But no, ‘hot shot Hughes’ flew in, having everything handed to the son of a bitch. I’ve never hated anyone more; rivalry was so on.

He was almost insufferable, I’d always assume his overconfident cocky-act was from his popular hockey captain status which he said he held at school. I couldn’t have cared less, about him or his hockey status. He’d go around acting like he owned the place when he hadn’t even been there a week. The staff loved him, but you were pretty sure that was only because of his ‘charm’, or his flirty attitude, at first, most of your cabin crew had also been head over heels for the new hot boy, but you quickly shut them down with any idea of anything happening between any of cabin A with Cabin B. Rules were rules and a rivalry was a rivalry.

I never did know if he knew it had been your birthday that day, if he planned what he had just because he wanted to make your life a living hell, or if he just genuinely did not know. I wasn’t sure if you’d ever get that answer, and over time I cared less. I’d been too focused on the summer ahead of you and that only. Your 17th would be spent like any other this year. I made sure to plan in advance, for my own sake anyway. This was going to be one of my last years at the camp, I’d be graduating the school year to come, and be moving off to whatever was planned for myself next, so some stupid boys weren’t about to ruin that for me. No matter how many names, or flirtatious things Jack would shoot at me, i had no intent of falling for his fuck boy acts.

For that matter, my good friend, and cabin member, Lacey, had been secretly seeing one of the guys from B cabin, this past summer. Joey. It was well known between the girls cabin, although the boys not so much. A few other girls had spent time with some of the boys, but none went any further in the way Lacey had it out with Joey. A part of me only dreamed of the cliche rivalry love story, yet with the current circumstances, I’d been almost positive that was never, ever going to happen.

Seriously. Imagine, Jack Hughes, and me?

Pffft.

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doodlejoltik · 3 days

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the unwinnable game

[~2.7k words. Read it here or on Ao3]

Zugzwang (from German 'compulsion to move'; pronounced [ˈtsuːktsvaŋ]) is a situation found in chess and other turn-based games wherein one player is put at a disadvantage because of their obligation to make a move.

Centuries after their battle atop Mt Coronet, Rei confronts Volo in a nondescript forest, somewhere on Pasio. But the answers he's seeking aren't so easily given.

aka. a continuation of that one dialogue cliffhanger in the Mysterious Stones chapter because I'm extremely normal about these two

///

“There's something you'd like to say, isn't there… Rei?”

Volo turns around and Rei musters up the bravest expression he can.

Now that he's here, he doesn't know what to say first; all his planned questions bounce around his head, clamouring for dominance. Why are you here? How? Since when? You have a Togepi and a Togekiss? Why a tournament? What do you know about the mysterious stones?

Were we ever really friends?

That is, it takes an embarrassingly long time for Rei to respond. In the end, what he says isn’t a question at all. “That Togepi in the ruins was yours.”

Volo only shrugs. He's got a languid smile on his face. “It might've been. She likes running around.”

Internally, Rei is relieved. So he hasn't been seeing things. But he doesn't let it show on his face, and crosses his arms. “Why’d you hide from everyone for months, and only show yourself now?”

“Now, I wouldn't call it hiding,” Volo replies, waving his finger. “This is a big island, and I've made a good few acquaintances here on Pasio already! Perhaps our paths simply didn't cross.”

With the number of times Rei has visited the ruins for mysterious stone research, the odds of that are vanishingly unlikely. “But why didn't you even try? It's not like I've been keeping a low profile.” Of course, the reason is probably something like I tried to end the world and it would be awkward. And that's what Rei needs Volo to say.

The Arc Phone sits heavily in his belt satchel, recording every word.

“Oh, I was just preoccupied. The ruins here are simply fascinating! Even though they're replicas, teasing apart all the ancient cultures used in their construction is such a fruitful area of study. You know me.”

Yeah, I know you. “Find anything interesting about Arceus?” Rei snarks.

“Not particularly!” Volo shakes his head, looking disappointed. Then he perks up, and continues, “Now, Dialga and Giratina however…”

“Oh?” Rei seethes quietly. Of course he had been watching. Why hadn't Giratina said anything?

“It’s curious, isn’t it, how they have seen fit to partner themselves with new wielders?” Volo smiles. “And Palkia too, I’ve heard.”

“It is interesting,” Rei forces out, adjusting his scarf. He recalls Volo's last parting line about Arceus, all those months ago. “Nice to know that they've bonded willingly with people in this time,” he says pointedly.

Ignoring Rei's tone, Volo continues, “That man, Cyrus, who controls Palkia. What a character, wouldn't you say?”

Rei has a lot of thoughts about the Sinnohans’ decision to allow Cyrus - a man who has literally tried to remake the world and not disavowed said goal - to keep the embodiment of Space with him. He'd thought Adaman and Irida had to be joking, at first. What would the Captain think if she saw what her descendant had turned the Galaxy Team into…

“I suppose you see yourself in him.” Rei says flatly.

It's only the two of them here, in the middle of a forest, in the dead of night, so Volo should have no reason to be evasive. And yet -

“Hardly,” Volo laughs off. “Intellectual curiosity, nothing more.”

This is going nowhere. Does Volo seriously think he can fool him again? Probably not - every remark is undoubtedly purposeful, but with just enough plausible deniability to appear innocent. So maybe he just wants to mess with him. Great.

A different strategy, maybe. He’ll surely make a mistake at some point if Rei keeps pushing. “This… tournament that you proposed,” Rei says. “I suppose you're participating?”

“Naturally!” Volo says cheerfully. “Battles on Pasio are done in teams, are they not? Perhaps you'd like to-”

“No.” Rei glares at him. Oh, now, that was going too far. Going to shut that line of conversation immediately.

“So hostile,” Volo sighs. “A united Hisuian contingent would've been a sight to see. Well, the clan leaders should be more receptive, at least.”

“Not if I can help it,” Rei says, crossing his arms. He’s well aware of how childish it sounds, but the thought of his friends falling for Volo’s innocent merchant act, again, is too horrible to consider. Mentally, he rapidly revises his priorities - he has to meet with Adaman and Irida as soon as possible and explain everything. Tomorrow, ideally. Does he have the energy for that? It’s something like one in the morning, right now. He's dead on his feet. But he’ll make it happen. He has to, before Volo does.

But what if he’s already too late? When had Rei last spoken to them? The dance competition, that wasn’t that long ago, right? At least a week, maybe more, his mind supplies. He'd just been so busy… and surely they would have told him if they'd met Volo.

This little anxious spiral must be evident on Rei’s face somehow, because Volo chuckles, stepping closer. “The world doesn't revolve around you, Rei. Not here.”

“You don’t get to act all high and mighty,” Rei snaps. “Not when you’re pulling everyone along on your own strings. I suppose you think you make the world go ‘round.”

But Volo has a point, no matter how much he hates to admit it. Rei’s been assuming he was someone significant to this whole saga. The appearance of the mysterious stones coincided with his and Akari’s arrival to Pasio, after all, so was he really wrong for thinking that?

And Arceus spoke to him first. That had to mean something.

“On the contrary, I simply meant that we’re all on equal ground,” Volo says. For the first time, goes unspoken.

“I’ll still beat you,” Rei vows. He’d done it before, he could do it again. No matter if he was still favoured by Arceus or not. “Because my bonds with my Pokemon, and my friends, are real. And you don’t know what that feels like.” Though intended to be a sharp jab at Volo, instead, a deep bitterness colours those final words.

Volo’s expression twists into something briefly unreadable before it settles into a polite half-smile. “You’re quick to assume the worst of me.”

“Quick?” Rei barks out a harsh laugh. “No, it was exactly the opposite.” He’d been strung along so thoroughly, accepting every strange behaviour as simply one of Volo’s little oddities. Only up at the Celestica Ruins did those allowances start to crumble – and by then, it was too late.

Volo’s look at Rei is one of intrigue. The way Rei's seen him examining ancient ruins, like he's something Volo wants to observe, or study.

And Rei has had it. Enough dancing around the subject, trying to draw it out of Volo; clearly it’s never going to happen. “Is this all just a game to you? You tried to destroy the world! You want me to think you care about anyone?”

Volo raises an eyebrow. “That's a bold claim. Surely if that had happened, it would've ended up in the history books, somewhere.”

Well – okay. The only person who knew what happened was the Professor, sort of. And Cogita. Arceus knows how she found out. But Professor Laventon didn't know half of it, even, Rei had just incoherently vented everything emotional and hurting at him, swore him to secrecy, and then hoped that he'd never have to unpack that again.

Clearly Arceus had other designs.

“We were friends.” Rei’s voice cracks a bit, there; he hates how true it is. “I thought we were friends. But you were going to kill me for standing in your way!”

Volo frowns. “Now, why would I do that?” He takes a few paces towards Rei and smiles, purposefully, grin stretching tight across his face. “I wouldn't want to lose my favourite customer, after all!”

Stumbling backwards to regain the distance, Rei exclaims, “I’ve bought maybe one thing from you. Stop calling me that!”

“Recipient of free samples, semantics,” Volo shrugs, entirely unaffected, and Rei wars with the competing urges to punch him or bolt into the treeline.

“Play dumb all you want,” Rei hisses, “but you’ve already shown your hand. I could tell them everything. You won’t be able to fool anyone ever again.” Least of all me.

Volo tilts his head with a smirk. “Well then, why are you here?” he asks, calling Rei’s bluff.

And though he can’t know that the Arc Phone is listening in Rei’s satchel, Rei realises that his motivations must be laughably transparent. Maybe Volo thinks Akari, or Cynthia, is watching the whole thing from the treeline. The specifics of it don’t matter, really. Rei’s been outplayed from the very beginning.

Volo makes a little movement with his hand. There's a sudden rustle of movement behind Rei, and he whips around, hand on Decidueye's Pokeball -

But it's just Volo's Togepi, who warbles in alarm and quickly toddles past him.

“What would people rather believe in?” Volo says lightly. “The accusations of a boy who jumps at shadows?” He bends down to pick up Togepi. “Or in the innocence of their friend?”

In Volo's arms, Togepi lets out an adorable squeak.

Over the Pokeball on his belt, Rei’s hand is trembling with misfired adrenaline. He carefully drops his hand to his side and raises his head up high. “Cynthia trusts me. I’ve been here for months, and we’ve worked together on the mysterious stones since they were first found.”

“And so?” Volo shrugs. “A working relationship is hardly worth much. I thought you would've known better, with what Kamado did…”

Rei flinches.

The worst part about it all was that no matter what ulterior motives Volo might have had, back then, when he’d been thrown out into the wild with barely a few days’ worth of supplies – Volo had been there for him when nobody else was.

Volo had seen Rei fall apart and put himself back together with forced cheer. And so, he knew exactly where the cracks were, where to strike with his words to disassemble Rei all over again.

Of course Rei knows Cynthia is responsible, and smart, and has been nothing but friendly to him – but he doesn't really know her, does he? And Volo is her ancestor. Which is pretty obvious, honestly. She’d probably like him immediately.

Just like everyone else did. Including Rei.

“Besides, you're not the only one who's been making friends in high places,” Volo adds smoothly. “I’ve heard that Bettie’s word is quite well regarded.”

So now that Rei had wised up to Volo's true nature, he'd gone and found himself new people to use. “You’ve always been like this, then,” Rei huffs. None of it had been real; their entire ‘friendship’ had been predicated on Rei's usefulness. “They deserve to know the truth about you.”

“Truth? Or your own opinion?” Volo scoffs. “You think so highly of yourself, Rei, but you're not the beloved Hero of Hisui here. No…” he smiles. “You're entirely ordinary. Do remember, it was everyone in that stadium who heard Arceus' voice.”

Admittedly, that stings. He'd thought - maybe - that Arceus was finally telling him why He'd brought Rei here. What he was supposed to do in this strange new land. But he'd failed, unable to clearly hear Arceus’ voice.

Rei spares a thought for the Arc Phone, once a vessel for divine inspiration, now reduced to recording mortals’ petty feuds. His messages to Arceus have been left on read for months. He's probably allowed to be a bit petty, at this point.

Volo continues, “Imagine! Any one of us could become Arceus’ champion.” Togepi makes a little noise. “Yes, even you,” he says indulgently, lifting her up to face him, and she goes cross-eyed following his waving finger.

It's horribly cute, the sort of thing Rei would've been charmed by before. And it's clear Volo is no longer taking Rei seriously at all.

What starts out as a wavering thought suddenly asserts itself with startling clarity. “I don't need anything from you,” Rei realises. He'd told himself he was here for evidence, something concrete he could hold against Volo, and that was true. But beyond that, he'd been after something entirely more personal.

He can walk away.

“I don't need anything from you,” he repeats, with force this time.

Volo turns his attention away from Togepi, and this of all things is what finally seems to make him genuinely confused. “Leaving so soon, Rei?”

Rei doesn't elaborate. He turns on his heel to stalk through the forest back to civilisation. Now, because if he says anything more he doesn't know if he'll ever bring himself to stop. Because he's asking for something he'll never get.

Volo's saying something. He doesn't care to catch all the words, though some of it filters through - “challenge”, “tournament”, and “rivals” among them. The general shape of the message is clear. They'll meet again; Rei's powerless to stop that. But as best he can, he'll shake off whatever lingering grip Volo still has on him.

He doesn't stop walking as the trodden earth turns to paved cobbles under his feet, and he makes it all the way up his building's winding stairs to the little studio apartment that he's been given. Home, for now. Collapsing onto the lone armchair, he takes the Arc Phone out of his satchel and turns off the recording. Thank Arceus for divinely bestowed infinite storage, he supposes.

Rei knows that if he were to listen to it, there'd be nothing of use. Only hidden barbs and Rei’s own ugly, wounded anger. It feels fitting to delete it, to banish the whole encounter to memory, and perhaps eventually, less than that.

He doesn't, and instead tucks it away in a folder several layers deep.

Maybe Professor Laventon wrote about the whole disaster in his private diaries. Rei knows he has them, bless the man. He'd once stumbled into the Professor's office late at night, after an exhausting, terrifying escape from an Alpha, ready to tell Laventon off for sending him there – and startled the Professor fiercely, who quickly shut the manuscript he was writing with a blush. So even if Rei had sworn him to secrecy, he might have confided in the written word.

That's something he can set Cynthia on digging up, then. Even just the suggestion that Laventon, the First Pokemon Professor, had such personal writings, would probably send her into an unstoppable research frenzy. That much about her, at least, he knows. If it still existed in this era, Cynthia would almost certainly find it.

And maybe he doesn't need evidence. Not for the people who matter, anyway.

Akari’s only a few doors away, their apartments close neighbours just like back in Jubilife Village. If he wanted, he could wander over there once the sun rose, have her fantastic tamago rice, and tell her everything.

Is he ready to take that step into thin air? To trust that he'll be believed, in something that's infinitely more convoluted and improbable than the simple plea – “I don't know why the sky is red, it's not my fault, I only ever did what you told me to” –

Well. Volo might've been the last one to break his trust, but he was in no way the first.

Can he make good on those words that he’d levelled so confidently against Volo? That his bonds with his friends are real?

Akari had never doubted. And Adaman and Irida had gone against Kamado's will, risking the standing of their people, just to help him. He would be doing them a disservice if he didn't at least try.

And in this dangerous game, it might be the only winning move.

Even as he makes this decision, he feels the pull of sleep. It's offensively late, or early, in the morning now, depending on perspective, and all of this is Tomorrow Rei’s problem.

There's no energy left to even stumble to bed. Rei falls asleep right there in the lumpy armchair, hand loosely gripped around the Arc Phone, Adaman and Irida’s Poryphone numbers on the screen, ready and waiting.

And, though Rei will certainly wake up sore with a crick in his neck come the morning…

For the first time in a long while, his dreams are not restless.

#trainer rei #rei pokemon #volo #volo pokemon #pokemas #pokemon #rei #fanfiction #// tikposting #// fanfic #so. pokemas has been gripping me so hard the past couple of months #that it's even tempted me into writing fic again after three years #yes i know this is about to be rendered non canon in just a few days when the next chapter drops #but i had to get it all out beforehand because gosh there's so much story potential #(btw if you've watched the datamined version please avoid spoilers I'm waiting for official in game release. thank you!!!!)#rei tries to play the game volo's way and fails miserably: the fic #he's out here trying to set up a trap not realising it's extremely obvious #when he does realise it's ten moves into the actual game and he's in the middle of a trap himself. fun #rei pov is very fun he has many many thoughts about things #thanks for reading!!#// tikart

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starnightlover · 2 days

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Hi. Sorry, I just really feel like complaining. Obviously you can ignore this, I just have nowhere else to word vomit lol. I've been trying to shift since 2019. I've gotten into the void state for like 20 seconds but got too freaked out/excited and lost stability before I could manifest or shift anywhere. I feel like I'm going crazy. I've done the whole thing of pasting sticky notes with affirmations all over my apartment, had meditated for an hour or more a day for weeks at a time, listened to subliminals 24/7 and obvious tried all the classic methods like the raven method, julia method, etc, etc. I've had multiple lucid dreams where I tried to make portals and I've even had a lucid dream (or I guess I shifted) where I saw a "centre" for shifting with a bunch of islands and floating petals that we used as transportation between islands. I got a whole tour by some guide and he showed me other lives I'm currently living. That was like a year ago, and I haven't manifested anything significant or went anywhere since then. I'm going through a really tough time right now. I wouldn't have gone on like this if I didn't believe in it, but I'm just feeling really beaten down. I'm exhausted and frustrated.

Hi lovely, I'm so sorry you feel this way.

It’s understandable. But remember all the lucid dreams you’ve had and the void states that you’ve been in. They’re a reflection of your ability for shifting. You’ve been incredibly close before, and your subconscious mind is capable of doing so. You can take a break if you want, because shifting requires a healthy amount of persistence. Just remember that no matter how long of a break you have, you’ve come really far already. The void state is one step away from shifting. And don’t forget your lucid dream, where you basically saw your ability to change realities. Don’t take my word for granted. Just think about it. You can do it, you do have the abilities, all you have to do is keep going. You can take a small break if you want to rest, but don’t let yourself lose all your progress. Stay determined, stay motivated, don’t lose your abilities. You can do this!!

You’ve come so far, and you’ve been in the final stages. Don’t think about how it’s been years without a single shift. It’s been years where you’ve learned techniques, you’ve learned about yourself, you’ve honed in your shifting abilities. Just because you haven’t shifted in years doesn’t mean you’ve made no progress. This is just the next step in your shifting journey. Go forward. Take that step. Shift like nothing’s stopping you. You’re so close. You’ve had enough time to think about it. You’ve been here, wanting to get to your desired reality for all this time. You haven’t given up on it yet. You’ve kept coming back hoping, trying, dreaming, wanting to shift to the reality you want and finally be with your hard work! Why would you stop now? You owe it to yourself to keep trying. Don’t give up, because it has always been your dream to shift.

Your determination, drive, motivation, and dedication to shifting is so praiseworthy. It's been years since you started this journey, and you haven't given up! You've persisted for this long and you've gotten close so many times, it's almost impossible for you to not have enough abilities to shift realities. Remember all the things you've seen and experienced while trying to shift realities, all the things you've gone through and the efforts of hard work that you've put into shifting realities. Don't give up now. You just have to keep going. You can do it, I believe in you!

Keep going. Don’t stop now.

I mean, just think about it: you possess this incredible power within you to shape your own existence. You're not just a passive observer in the grand theater of life; you're the playwright, the director, and the star actor all rolled into one.

You see, the universe is like this vast, infinite canvas, and you? You're the artist putting forth the brush. Every thought, every belief, every intention you hold is like a stroke on that canvas.

Now, here's the kicker: you have the ability to shift to any reality you choose. It's not some distant, unattainable dream—it's within your awareness right here, right now. Reality-shifting isn't this Herculean task reserved for a select few; it's as easy as changing your mind.

You are the god of your reality, lovely!!! You have the power to shift!!! It's not about waiting for the stars to align or some external force to swoop in and save the day. It's about realizing that the power you seek has been within you all along. So, embrace it. Own it. Know that you are the creator of your own destiny. And when doubts creep in or challenges arise, remember this: you are god, and reality-shifting is as easy as flipping the script. You've got this. After all, you are god.

And remember! You don't actually need specific methods to shift realities; it's about tapping into your innate power as a being that is pure consiousnious not attached to any body, mind, or reality! . Every moment, you're making choices that shift you to a different reality, and reality-shifting to your DR is just as easy! It's just bevomi b aware of it. While methods and techniques can be helpful tools, they're just that—tools! The real magic happens when you tap into your own inner wisdom and intuition, trusting yourself to allow the process to unfold organically. Embrace your innate creativity and intuition, and watch as your reality begins to shift in ways you never thought possible.

Now just remember my love, to keep on visualizing, keep on affirming, and most importantly keep persisting!!!! . And, be gentle with yourself along the way. Shifting may not happen overnight, but each step you take brings you closer to your DR. So hold onto hope, and know that your breakthrough is just around the corner.

#anonymous asks #reality shifting #shifting #shift #shifting blog #shifting realities #shifting consciousness #shifting reality #shifting antis dni #anti shifters dni #shiftblr #shifting motivation #shifters

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neet-elite · 17 hours

Text

↳ EVENT 06. M!Kylar (Incest)

Pairing: Big Brother M!Kylar / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,509 Warnings: incest, bath sex, yandere, creampie, cockwarming, stockholm syndrome, riding, breeding Prompt(s): 07 — incest Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: i dunno what inspired me to take a softer approach to this request, but i've been enjoying writing the really loving requests... so i hope that this is still enjoyable !! i also think kylar suits this prompt the most, so it was super fun to explore!!! tysm!

After a long, exhausting, and humiliating day of school (or as Kylar likes to affectionately call it, imprisonment), there is simply nothing better to cap the awful experience off than to indulge in some alone time with his favourite little sister. His only little sister, the light of his life, the sole joy he experiences in this shitty world and his shitty life. To say that he relies on you for all of his comfort and happiness would be an understatement— he saps it. Leeching off of you from the moment he enters home, calling out for your attention before the front door is even closed. And the fact that you're none the wiser only encourages him to use you some more, forever pushing you to your limits to hopefully break you in as his own.

And tonight is no special exception. Away from prying eyes, in the safety of four thin walls, he begs for your affections once again. Dragging you into his room to spend the night together, just like always. And it's comforting to know that even after all the bullshit bullying he has to endure during the day, he can always count on his precious little sister to make it all worthwhile. God, he'd go through near death beatings daily if it meant he got to wrap his arms around you at the end of it all, nice and snug and soft, pretty little sister in his arms for him to coddle and coo at. Because he loves you so much, he's willing to endure whatever it takes to keep you out of harms way; so much so that he willingly puts himself into dangerous situations just to make sure you don't need to leave your shared home for any reason.

The world doesn't deserve your kindness. The town is unworthy of your cuteness, undeserving of your sweetness. Or; perhaps he's just being a selfish big brother, right? Keeping you all to himself, locked away in his tower for self serving reasons.

Like to be the only one to hear your barely audible little whimpers, how soft and pretty you sound right now, especially when his knuckles brush against your wet cheek and you shiver into him. Fuck, feels so good, doesn't it? He knows he does, playfully biting down on his bottom lip— unchecked confidence flowing through him now that he's only with you. It's funny, actually, how no one outside these four walls would assume just how cocky he can get, reserving that side of himself just for you. It's only fair, he thinks. He gets to see sides of you that no one else does, and in return, you receive authority over every aspect of your life, all in an effort to keep you safe. An innocent enough want, though he's well aware of just how degenerate he can get. How far he can twist relative honesty.

It's the least he could do for you, considering all you've got to do is exist and he's happy. Do you even know the things he goes through for you? How much trouble it is to actually keep you healthy and secure? It's like keeping a pet, only more rewarding when you take hold of his hand, little fingers locking with his own before dipping them back under the water together.

So cute! You're so fucking cute it pains him, heart hurting at the way your silky skin rubs against his own, tits pressed snugly to his chest, secured only by the warm water surrounding him. The skin on skin contact just gets to him— it's one of his favourite ways to spend time with you. Naked, bare, ignoring the moral implications of playing with his baby sister in such a disgusting way; he plays with you in far worse ways anyway. But the connection coursing through him, from your fingertips to his own, is unmatched. Causes his cock to tremble inside of you, his eyes instinctively rolling and then squeezing shut at the tight fit inside of your cunt.

It's bath time! he'd ordered you once home, pants already tenting from the way you excitedly started running the water at the mere mention of some valued bath time with big brother.

C'mere, sit on my lap he'd encouraged you once getting in the too hot water, but a little burning isn't gonna stop him from hanging out with his baby sister, now is it?

Wanna sit on it? he'd asked you once feeling you squirming around, wiggling your baby sister butt on his fat cock like routine. It's not the first time he's impaled your angel cunt in the water, and it certainly won't be the last. A regular enough occurrence at this rate that he knows cock is what you're after when he mentions bathing— not that he's any better, looking forward to getting you wet in the bath just so he can shove his dirty big brother cock inside of you again and again— routine.

It's only natural, he thinks. Given that you're disallowed from seeing anyone else, let alone any other suitors, that you'd want to explore things like sex and orgasms with your big brother. Which is luckily all according to his plan, to seclude you enough to make you think that it's your choice to date him. Greedy cock twitching inside your pretty little hole as you idly rub a thumb up and down his held hand, allowing him to slide down the tub just a little to reposition his cock at a better angle inside of you. If he keeps you all to himself like this, leaving you no other choice but to date and fuck and kiss and marry your big brother, then he can die happy.

"What did you do today?" He mundanely asks, but it's more of a grunt than anything else. Winded by the unfairly tight squeeze of your cunt, wrapped sooooo nicely around him, God, he'd kill for that cunt, yknow?

You take a second to answer, clearly preoccupied with not shifting around too much as he feels you tense up on his cock at the sound of his voice. Pretty baby, big brother will always protect you, okay?

"The usual," you yawn, and he has half a mind to pull out of your pretty pussy to instead stuff your open maw full with cock. "Mostly waited for you to get home, Ky."

Oh, how the affectionate nickname you've taken to calling him goes straight through him, fat beads of precum staining your insides all gloopy as a proclamation of love. His pretty little stockholm sister, are you even away of the things you do to him? How the banality of it all, taking a simple bath with you, is the lewdest part. Cock pulsing against your squishy insides while your tits ride against his chest, primal need dictating him to let go of your hand in favour of placing both hands on the small of your back. A little pressure added there to really make you feel the weight of your words, and by extension, the weight of his cock.

Your reaction is immediate, a sharp little squeak that he wants to force out of you again and again— but there is joy to be had in taking things slow, too. Like how when he lifts a hand up to your soaked hair to pet at, he's privy to the view of your wet cat like stare back at him, pretty pout and all. He leans down, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips as a reward for being so cute for him. "Don't you get bored of waiting for me every day? Aren't you doing something else?" He tests you, resting his chin at the top of your head to force you into listening to how hard his heart beats for you; in time with how fast his cock pulses with need.

"I— No... Seeing big brother again is my favourite thing!" You protest, and it's difficult to remain in his calm, cool, and collected big brother composure when you're whining so prettily for him like that, a little moan at the end from the way he rolls his hips against your own in the face of your absolute devotion.

Perfect, he thinks. You're already his, so he can do whatever he wants to you, right?

And while having you cockwarm him is one of his favourite pastimes, he'd be lying if he said he could do it all night. Much to his disappointment, though he tries every single bath time to do just that, your high pitched gasps and sweet little sighs coax him into movement without fail. A gentle back and forth to begin with, moving you up and down his cock with ease more so than moving himself— you can always count on big brother, okay?

And yet, domesticity calls to him. Begs to keep the slow pace, to let you hump him mindlessly once he's kickstarted your movement. You're a good girl, you know to keep moving, yeah? A simple up and down while he twirls your wet hair, gently cupping the back of your head with one hand, the other finding home on your ass to pinch and tug on your cheek. There's not a thought to be had in that dumb little sister brain of yours, is there? And there better not be, given how hard he works to make sure that there isn't. Rock hard cock stroking your insides gently, at your own pace, a satisfied hum escaping him when you huff and puff up and down his length.

"Good answer— ah—" he rewards you with a rushed moan, wrapping his body even tighter around you to get as close as possible to his little sister, wanting more than anything to melt into you, become so connected through the leaking precum dirtying your insides that all you can think about is him— because all he can think about is you, it's only fair! Even if you've proven yourself thus far to surround your world with him, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to get enough of you. Convinced by your devotion to thrust his cock up just a little, enough to knock you off balance and further into his greedy hold. "Waiting for big brothers cock?" He urges you to continue, to fuck his perverted length faster, fuck yourself stupid on big brother, okay baby?

You let out a muffled mhm!, moaned directly against his chest, heat rising to his cheeks from how cute you can be when doing something so immoral. You actually enjoy fucking big brother? Gross, he sneers internally. Only, the fact that you take part and also relish in something as vulgar as this tugs on his heart. Has his mind reeling with affections for you, grabbing a greedy fistful of your ass to aid in your bounces up and down.

Water splashes around him, the pace of your tiny humps quickening the harsher he grabs you. To the point that he has to use both hands on your pretty body, literally picking you up and letting you drop back down on his cock with insatiable need.

"Fuck, I can't— you're too good at this." he half laughs, sinking further into the water so as to allow you enough room to properly straddle him, every bounce you make on his fat cock leaving him more than a little breathless as he struggles to keep up with your thirst. Chest tight with the sight of you indulging yourself to his cock, using him just as much as he uses you on a daily basis. Oh how he loves it, to be at the receiving end of your adoration, your warm cunt sucking him further in with ever fuck, prompting his hips to hump upwards out of sheer desperation to match your sibling fucking energy.

Greedy as he is though, his hands settle possessively on your hips. Aiding in your movements in a selfish manner, forcing you to grind your puffy clit against him every time you slam your ass back down against his lap.

More than anything he strives to make you happy. Everything, literally everything he does is for you. Guided by your smile, aided by your laughter. He loves you so much, didn't you know? It's why he's helping you fuck yourself dumb on his cock, thoughtlessly thrusting in tandem with your humps, moaning out for you just as much as you sob his name. Over and over, his favourite song.

And like the good big brother he is, he knows when you're close. Takes over the job of fucking when you grow too weak to continue, despite the water splishing over his face. He'd drown if it meant you got to cum, honestly.

Rather than state the obvious, he focuses solely on helping you get there. Cooing and tutting and staring at your scrunched up pretty expression. He'll have to give you so many kisses afterwards for allowing him the privilege to see that cute face later on. Helping you grind your hips down on him in a way that his groin rubs your clit just the way you like, preferring to keep you seated there as your nails dig into his chest for slippery stability, taking to fucking his cock as deep as possible from your stationary seated position. He's barely moving, relying on the twitches and throbs of his cock inside for stimulation. But fuck— baby sister cunt feels so good, how your insides squirm around and suck his cock off so well, pretty whines spilling for him in abundance.

He stares at your face, only so that he can watch you fall apart on his big cock. Because the cut off sob you let out, followed by a gasp of his name before your moth falls open in a silent beg is so cute, fuck, he can't stop himself from cumming too. Not when your hole wraps tighter than ever around his intrusion, bullying his way inside your cunt to shoot his load as deep as possible, aiming to breed his baby sister bitch as payment for sticking by him when no one else would. Promising a future you've yet to learn about simply because you're too cute to hold back, painting your insides sticky white to mix with the bath water when he inevitably pushes some out with deep thrusts.

Gushy little cunt, still spasming around his length when he's done filling you up. It's a good thing you're in the bath with him after all, quietly cooing to you in soft privacy to get up, let him clean you while you're here. There's no one here to tell you how wrong it is for him to not only breed your cute hole, but to also clean it up afterwards with his fingers sneakily entering to scissor around a little.

And he hopes to keep you this way. Dumb, obedient, and oblivious. It's when his favourite little sister is at her cutest.

#500 event!#kylar the loner #kylar smut #dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity fanfic

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profounddefendorcrusade-blog · 2 days

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I feel bad for Starlo. (pt. 9)

Star's the Papyrus (both are idealistic & seen as naive) of this game (Martlet is another possible parallel), even though he's got similarities with Undyne too. No matter how broken Ceroba seemed he asked himself WHY she did what she did and I think that's SUPER important.

Ceroba didn't do this. Her first instinct was to be harsh (after being harsh with him even BEFORE he attacked Clover):

called his personality "damaged" before this scene

... you never asked yourself WHY he did the whole sheriff act.

.... you never asked WHY he didn't want to grow up. If it was a coping mechanism, if he wanted to help his community in a way he couldn't as a farmer? It was never on her mind.

Yes he has baggage but he's dealing with it all while uplifting others, Ceroba has baggage but is well taken care of by Star and at least has him, he has no one but himself and his optimism to pull him out of negative feelings, and still gets insulted.

Yeah Ceroba's been through stuff but apparently it's been some time since Chujin passed and Kanako fell down, she should have at least started to support Star emotionally like he's been supporting her (sure, he did so with distractions, but as he said "aren't distractions what's best for all of that?" He did his best). Problem is she DIDN'T realise he was ever struggling with self worth and only assumed he was goofing off. Either that or she did nothing about it aka was too occupied with her own problems (which are valid but still... she should have tried at least a little) Cer's character flaw is being too stubborn and devoted to Chujin. She trusted him blindly and wholeheartedly. Everything else came in 2nd place. This is clear as day.

It hurts knowing Ceroba could never respect Starlo the way she still does her husband. Not saying she shouldn't admire Chujin, but the way she sees Star as a goofy manchild whose lifelong passion can go "too far," the way she sees all this Wild East stuff as him "just having fun," the way she thinks that only someone whose brain isn't developed would ever consider dating him just... ticks me off, tbh. That's why I think the guy needs someone who will be gentle and patient with him, even if that other person is going through tough times.

She DID call Starlo the best sheriff she's ever known (honestly the only sweet moment between them in pacifist, but it is very brief, especially in neutral where he just gets cut off; also I hope she was being genuine here) and said how everyone adored him (but hated his persona, which I've already covered: basically they either hated 'North Star' as a whole, which I hope isn't true, or just how excited he was to meet Clover, which makes no sense to me; already covered it as well)

Bonus: Dina didn't know who Star really was or what he looked like, not before the end credits rolled (when he shows up as himself & she's also seen there; makes sense that he finally came clean to her):

So he's literally been playing this role 24/7, ever since she became the bartender; ever since this town started to exist. It's impressive how he could keep up an act AND use this fake accent for so long

Bonus #2: Star was SUPER worried about Clover's safety; that's what REALLY upset him (he cares about that child sm). THAT's what drove him off the edge (unless he naturally has a temper, i don't think this is it tho). Either way, he was way more patient w Ceroba than I think most would have been in that situation. Sure he snapped a few times, but there was a good reason to. He still TRIED to reason with her. Why did he attack? Worried for Martlet & Clover. I honestly think Star's the type to only get super angry if someone he loves is in danger (minus the stuff that happened which led him to cracking)

#uty #undertale yellow #starlo uty #uty starlo #ceroba uty #uty ceroba #ceroba ketsukane #anti staroba #dina uty #uty dina #not saying ceroba is a horrible person for not understanding star #every character carries some sort of baggage #just that she doesn't understand him #and that he needs somebody who will #he's an idealist she's a pessimist #pairings like this CAN work #but i dont think that' the case here

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ashesbreadandbutter · 1 day

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I've got one: an Adam that can SEE soulmates. He grins nastily as he takes a GOOD LONG look at Alastor and SMIRKS "Vox, huh? You love him, hmm? I can see it written right on your disgusting soul Al-ass-tor. Annnnd even better he's your soulmate. I kill him, I cause you unimaginable pain and suffering for eternity without touching you." And then he takes off, leaving Lute and his army to take care of the hotel--who HEARD HIM to search for Vox.

The Vees are in full out panic mode, of course. They have no idea what to do. Vox say he can carry both Val and Vel through the electricity but they need a location to go too--abd the vacation home is too far, he doesn't have the juice.

Valentino is pissed at Vox for being Alastor's soulmate, and panicking about the certain death heading their way.

Velvette doesn't care: "Take us as far as you can to the vacation home and we can steal a car!"

Alastor is RAGING. How DARE that pompous f-wit threaten what is HIS?!? (Although he is pleased Adam did announce Vox was his too all of Hell. Now no one would dare try to date Vox after he killed the moth.)

(Feel free to use :3)

Thank you anon because I definitely WILL be taking this.

No really this is good, honestly you anons are helping write the best voxal fanfic with me as well speak. I think after I finish my current writing coms today then I'll start on this story. It honestly sounds really fun and I'm a bit of a slow burn kinda gal with a passion for angst so this is definitely up my alley.

The idea of Adam coming in? Mwah!

Like imagine the way Alastor freezes the moment Adam says that stuff about going after Vox and especially before Vox finds himself having to defend the vees. Bro doesn't even know what's going on at first and that he's basically one of the reasons it's happening. Imagine his shock if Alastor does hunt him down before the angels get there, both confusion AND relief showing on his face just to see Alastor. Though there's also annoyance.

"ugh! I could have handle a few angels Alastor!" He growls after Alastor grabs them after fighting and imagine something like after Alastor saves them he and Vox are having this argument just for Vox to stop when it seems Alastor did in fact take some damage.

"a few isn't tons Vox." Alastor would most like his back while cradling a wound and Vox might as well be the one to help him clean it up, matter of fact he has too because everyone is rather fearful of the pair. Alastor doesn't want anyone to deal with the wound like a stubborn dog unless it's Vox and this could leave them a lot of time just to sit with each other. It's silent as Vox carefully cleans his wounds, gentle and careful not to do anything that would hurt even more and then as he's looking over Alastor's body he'll glare at nothing halfheartedly, brows burrowed in confusion and annoyance.

"why'd you do something so stupid?" He'll ask and I can see Alastor's ear twitching. Vox basically asks him what's his problem. Why'd he go out there to fight so many angels and over HIM of all people? He's both flattered and a bit unnerved.

If Alastor really did all that to help him then maybe he SHOULD go back to the hotel just to keep an eye on Alastor's healing though maybe it's just a way to get closer because though Vox being Alastor's soul mate is life changing on his own, knowing and seeing Alastor after such a fight and touching his wounds really manages to draw Vox in. Like he wants to be with Alastor in the same bed and everything as he heals.

I wanna say Alastor will heal with no issue but imagine a case where he doesn't. Where the angel blades hold off his healing for just long enough to where Vox is actually worried over the other man.

This could be an interesting part to rebuild their connection. Seeing Alastor almost die while showing Hell that Vox BELONGS TO HIM really makes the TV demon flustered and more than he's ever been before. (Vox likes knowing Alastor is possessive enough to literally have a battle of his own with heaven. It makes him feel special and more than he ever has before)

I'd like to say this situation really convinces Vox but with their history he's worried about getting too close even though he wants to.

He's scared of falling in love with Alastor because what it its 'not the right time' again?

Vox is definitely an over thinker in this case, will sit through the healing process for Alastor but maybe he finds Alastor's words to be a fluke? Did he really mean it? Yeah he almost DIED but he couldn't possibly- he definitely means it.

They've had their history but Vox is a runner now and Alastor wants to chase him. After all, who could know him better than his old friend and whether Vox likes it or not no one would DARE (especially after the shocking announcement that they are soulmates) take Alastor's destined spot in his life.

I honestly love these ideas and I have many myself, keep em coming y'all!

- A

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casual-violinist-fangirl · 3 days

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When You're Hurting I'll Fix What I Can - 2,041 Words

A Tech-heavy fic where Omega is sick!

I always struggle writing Tech so please be kind, I've done my best...

This fic is part of my 'Kaminoans are Assholes' collection that can all be found on my masterlist. It's set in a post-Season 1 AU where Crosshair left Kamino with the Bad Batch.

As always, the link to my AO3 is here and the link to my masterlist on tumblr is here. Enjoy!

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At first it had just been a sniffle, hardly noticeable to anyone… except Hunter with his heightened senses. He raised an eyebrow as Omega wiped her runny nose on her sleeve, but said nothing of it; if she wanted their help, she’d say something to somebody. All the same, he made a point of keeping an eye on her as she went about her usual day.

As the day wore on, it became clearer that something wasn’t right. Omega’s sniffles and sneezes graduated to a rough cough that rattled through her. Echo had noticed now and handed the girl a tissue when she couldn’t stop sneezing. It had been a quiet day for the batch seeing as they were in hyperspace, and before long everyone was aware of the sniffles and coughs that were plaguing their youngest (oldest?) member.

The day drew to a close and now even Tech (who had been busy with repairing AZI all day) had noticed that the youngest member of their group was unwell. She hadn’t wanted to eat much that evening, choking back half a ration bar at Hunter’s pleas. Now she was sat in the arms of her father figure, drifting between a light sleep and picking at a loose thread on her tunic.

“How’re you feeling, ‘Megs?” Hunter asked as he gently carted his fingers through her hair, only to realise that she was fast asleep. He frowned with concern as he felt how warm her forehead was and glanced up at Crosshair, who also looked mildly concerned (which was a rare facial expression for him).

“She’s probably tired, Hunter,” the youngest of the group stated. ‘She’s been running around like an excitable loth cat for the past two days.”

Admitting that Crosshair was probably right, the sergeant carefully lifted Omega and carried her to her bunk. Tucking her in with Lula and Trooper, he pressed a light kiss to her warm brow before leaving her be and trying to get some rest himself.

——

When Tech woke up for his shift on watch, he had been expecting it to be uneventful. AZI was already in the cockpit waiting for him to continue his repairs… Tech was bound to get more done seeing as his brothers and sister were all asleep.

It wasn’t until he was an hour into his shift, and that was when he heard movement coming from the cabin. Assuming it was one of his siblings going to the fresher, he didn’t think much of it; his suspicions were only confirmed when he heard the sound of the ‘fresher door open.

Only the fresher door didn’t hiss shut again, and the sound of someone retching soon filled his ears. Without thinking, Tech let out of his chair and barrelled through the door into the cabin. Hunter, for once, had not woken up (perhaps a true indicator of how worn out he was after their most recent mission), and Tech could make out the silhouettes of Crosshair and Echo resting on a bunk and a chair respectively. Wrecker could be heard snoring, which meant that it could only be one other person in the ‘fresher.

“Omega?” Tech poked his head around the doorframe, only to be met with a saddening sight. The little girl was hunched over the vac tube, retching as she lost the little she’d eaten earlier.

“Tech?” came a pathetic sounding voice as she paused and caught her breath. “I don’t feel so good.” Piecing together what he had heard and seen throughout the say, Tech wasted no time crouching next to his sister and scanning her. He had a rough idea of what the problem was, but it was best make sure.

Omega whimpered and shivered on the floor as her brother rubbed soothing circles on her back in the same way he’d seen Hunter do before.

“As I suspected,” he muttered to himself as the holo pad bleeped. “Miss Omega, it would appear that you are suffering from a fever, which is what has made you…” he trailed off as she surged forward and vomited once more.

“Please make it stop!” she cried as she sat back once more. Tech nodded and darted out of the ‘fresher only to appear moments later brandishing a medkit, a canteen and a blanket.

Once Omega was wrapped in the blanket and clutching the canteen in her shaking hands, Tech set about sorting through the medkit for something, anything that would be useful. Given that clones were designed with heightened immune systems, medicine for illness was not something the batch had needed, but Tech had made sure to stock up on some of the basics. He guessed that because Omega was genetically unaltered she would not have that same protection they did. That added to the fact that she wouldn’t have been exposed to any germs until leaving Kamino… let’s just say they were lucky she hadn’t been ill yet.

Finally finding what he was looking for, Tech produced a small carton and a bottle containing a very pink looking liquid. Omega eyed them, not sure what to make of it all.

“This is a medicine that will help to bring your fever down and soothe the cough you have,” Tech started, raising the bottle to her. “And this,” he gestured to the carton. “Is a drink that will help to re-hydrate you more sufficiently than water will.”

The little girl nodded, trusting her brother as he measured out a cap of the pink liquid from the bottle and handed it to her. Not stopping to think, she knocked it back like you would a shot, pulling a face at the taste but managing to swallow it. Tech smiled sympathetically but busied himself with shaking the canon and piercing it with a straw. Giving that to his sister as will, he sat back content that with the medicine she would likely feel a lot better in the morning.

… that was until she was sick once more, shuddering as whatever she’d just taken left her system.

When she was done, she slumped against the wall one more. Tech frowned.

“I’ll admit,” he stated as he repositioned his goggles. “That was not quite the reaction I was expecting.” The little girl sat in front of him shuddered and wrapped the blanket further around herself. “No matter,” he continued as he delved back into the medkit. “We can simply administer the medication and fluids through an intravenous drip…”

He had barely finished the sentence when Omega inhaled sharply and started trembling even more.

“No thank you,” she stammered out, shuffling so she was wedged between the vac tube and the wall. Her eyes were wide with fear, but unfocused, the fever having truly taken hold. Tech raised an eyebrow, but simply put it down to a well-known childhood fear of injections plenty of cadets experienced. “There is nothing to be worried about, Miss Omega,” he said. “It is the same medication, and you will feel better with it.”

His reasoning was to no avail as Omega’s bottom lip started trembling as her breathing quickened. “No,” she repeated, sounding more alarmed than before and looking a whole lot smaller. “Please no,” she pleaded with her brother, though Tech wasn’t sure it was him she was seeing in her fever-induced delirium. “I’m sorry I was sick. I’ll be good, but please! No needles.”

Her breathing had quickened to the point that she had started hyperventilating and Tech frowned, concerned. No needles? Why…

Suddenly it all slotted into place. Tech found himself cursing the Kaminoans, but pushed all of that to one side so that he could focus on his little sister. Leaning out of the ‘fresher, he threw a small roll of gauze at Hunter’s face to wake him up; this was not going to be a one-man job.

The gauze had the desired affect because moments later a sleep-deprived Hunter stumbled into the ‘fresher. He had been about to ask Tech what the kriff had possessed him to mess about in the middle of the night when his eyes settled on his brother gently encouraging Omega to take deep breaths. Instead of interrupting he glanced at the scene around them; the room smelt vaguely of vomit, he assumed Omega’s and he spotted various pieces of medical equipment scattered around, including the means to set up an IV.

Putting the pieces together, the sergeant crouched down next to Tech, who shuffled out of the way to make room for Omega’s father figure. He was having a better time soothing the child, and for the first time in a while Tech found himself feeling a little inadequate. He had just wanted to help his little sister. Curse those Kaminoans- of course they wouldn’t just leave Omega alone, they had to experiment on her just as they had done with the rest of the batch.

“I don’t w-want…” came the gasping voice of Omega as Hunter nodded understandingly and smoothed her hair back. She was hot to the touch, a true sign of the affects of the fever. “No tests,” she continued to garble as she hurried her face in Hunter’s neck; a look aof devastated knowing washed over the sergeant’s face.

“No tests,’ he replied in a hushed tone. He glanced up at Tech, who was still trying to look busy and give the pair some space. The pair’s eyes met and the look on his brother’s face told him what he needed to know.

Omega was ill. She needed the drip.

Tech had turned his back, trying to act as invisible as possible when someone saying his name snapped him out of his thoughts and back into reality. Omega was now sat curled up in Hunter’s lap and clinging to his blacks, but her breathing has thankfully evened out to a more calming rate.

“Pardon?” he asked, a little flustered. Hunter rolled his eyes.

“I was just saying,” he started. “That you were only trying to help Omega. That you would never hurt her.”

“I know that really,” the girl in his arms cried, still upset. “I… just really don’t like needles… the Kaminoans would never tell me what they were doing and the stuff they put in me made me sick.”

If Tech hadn’t already been angry, he definitely would have been now. Taking a deep breath, an idea popped into his head.

“Would it help if I told you exactly what I was doing as I’m doing it?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to scare her. After a moments consideration, Omega gave a small nod and Hunter helped her to shift into a more upright position. Tech prepared his equipment, explaining exactly what he was doing at every step of the way. Omega had teared up and buried her face into Hunter’s chest as the drip was set up, the older clone whispering soothing words into her hair.

“All done!” Tech declared as he tied off a small bandage that would stop the line from catching on anything. Omega removed her face from where it had been hiding and wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sight of her arm. “You did well, Miss Omega,” Tech continued as he packed his equipment away. “All that’s left for you to do now is rest. You will feel better soon.” He stood and moved out of the ‘fresher, giving Hunter the space to carry the little girl out. He placed her on his bunk and disappeared to retrieve Lula and Trooper from the gunners’ mount. Tech was about to retreat back to the cockpit when a pair of small arms wrapped around his waist.

“Thank you,” Omega mumbled as she drew back from the hug and settled on Hunter’s bunk once more. All Tech could do was smile and nod as he tried to summon the right thing to say.

“Any time, vod’ika,” he eventually replied with a final nod before he disappeared into the cockpit. He gazed into hyperspace as his shift wore on, thanking his lucky stars (not that he believed in luck) that they had managed to get to Omega when they did. They couldn’t scare away all of her demons, but they sure as hell would try their best to do so.

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vourequat · 5 hours

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愛しています、ミスター・ジャパン！

WARNING: Nothing really, just some fluff, not proof read as much, horrible English, fem!reader.

This is the very first fanfic I'm writing for my birthday special, basically I'll be posting short or long fanfics along the days leading up to my birthday (I surely didn't forget that my birthday month is tomorrow). So be thankful that I'm spoiling you all instead of myself (⁠ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ⁠)⁠━⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

The constant sweat leaving your body to cool off your body was a huge sign that it was indeed the summer season, when he saw you all fatigued after coming home late after a mission due to the heat and the exhaustion of your already tiring work he immediately thought of one thing and one thing only— the thing you two had always dreamed about.

"Hon, morning...." He smiled as he flipped the last pancake he'll be making this morning, he turned around to greet you in an embrace and a quick kiss to your head.

You only hummed, still half asleep.

As you were sitting down and sipping on the coffee that he had served you he decided to sit down before decorating the pancakes, it was quite unusual really, Kento wasn't exactly the type to sit down or lay down without finishing something first so you immediately knew that something was up.

Kento took a deep breath, "So... I've been thinking" he began.

You lifted your head up from your coffee to meet his hazel eyes that brightened the moment you made eye contact, it was as if his pupils formed a heart the longer he looked at you.

"Yes...?"

"Why don't we spend the summer in Kuantan like we always talked about?" He continued as he slid two airplane tickets to Malaysia over to you.

It took you a bit to get it but once you did, you stood up in joy and attacked him with a big hug and wet kisses all around his face.

"Well, someone's obsessed with me...!" Kento laughed as he pulled you onto his lap and looked deeply into your eyes, "You'll be the death of me... a death that I'll accept with open arms."

Once you feel the sand on your toes, you feel like you were in a dream.

You couldn't believe you and your long time boyfriend had finally set foot in your dream escape place, the place where you two had dreamt of retiring to after you leave the sorcery life behind and just live normally.

Behind you, you heard a sigh and a grunt.

You turned around and immediately gasped— The Kento Nanami was on one his knee in front of you!

"Hey..." You were already on the verge of tears as the people around you gasped and cooed at the sight that they were witnessing first hand.

"God this is embarrassing but..." Kento sighed and mustered up the courage from his entire soul and took out a small velvety box from his pocket.

"Honey... I... we've been together for a good eleven years now and I've wanted nothing but to continue to wake up every morning and go to sleep every night seeing you beside me."

He began to grow more flustered with the amount of people now looking at them, he bickered himself from picking this over a private setting but he was just panicking the entire airplane ride on how to execute his proposal, normally he'd go by every proposal with flying colours but this was different— he was offering you to be his wife, to be the mother of his children, to be the person he'll love until he can't remember anything else anymore as you two grow old.

"I wish for the heavens above to hear my wishes... my wish that I can be your husband, your partner, your boyfriend, and your everything for my entire life time..."

"Will you marry me—"

"Yes! Oh my gosh, yes!" You squealed as you pulled him up into a hug, every single person who watched all clapping and cheering for the two of you.

Kento couldn't believe it anymore; first, you two finally fulfilled your dreams to go to Malaysia and now you two will soon be wedded.

"I can't wait to finally see you crying as I walk down the aisle..." You both chuckled at your joke as he finally sealed the deal and slid the ring into your ring finger before giving you a quick kiss.

"Mrs. Nanami does sound nice..."

A/N: I forgot that my birthday is near but that's okay at least I didn't forget on the literal day of my birthday like last year and wondered why was everyone cooking and why were there so many people, but anyways, yeah, I'll be posting tomfoolery for a few days until my birthday (I won't say when, baka manghingi ka pa lumpia)

I want a Jollibee themed birthday (I'm literally a grown woman)

#jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk nanami #jujustsu nanami #kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento is my husband go fight a wall #jujustsu fluff

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