#<- girl who sees opera everywhere

[lilacerull0]

what's wrong with d.d. lewisssss

[horrorshow]

asking in good faith, but to me it seemed like dean was obsessed with hypermasculinity not bc of his clothing/music choices, but bc of how he treated women in particular & his sort of, trying to play it cool attitude towards his own feelings & even jensons decision to play dean with a deeper voice. also him teasing sam did play a role for me in that interpretation bc he teases him for doing "girly" things specifically. could you explain a little bit more your perspective on this? im genuinely curious

it's selective reading. for every one of these examples you could also find an example that contradicts it: he's a caretaker, he cooks, he reads mommy blogs, he likes watching soap operas, he wears jewelry, even with one night stands he likes holding hands and the woman in charge, he didn’t chicken out of trying on woman’s underwear. if a guy is truly obsessed with looking as masculine as possible he wouldnt do these things.

the way i see it: dean, like most people, displays both stereotypically masculine and feminine behavior, making him a standard regular guy. and discussion about this is only interesting if you look at the full scope and context without cherry picking.

what we do know is that dean is usually bad at hiding his emotions, he feels very intensely. given the life he had, it makes sense he tried to look a bit older and tougher than he actually was to protect himself. that has more to do with being smart and adapting to his (masculine-rewarding) surroundings, rather than an obsession with masculinity itself. you gotta look through that facade.

and sorry but… how he treats women?? it's true he doesn’t always talk about women with the utmost respect but i do NOT see a pattern of mistreated women. his one night stands seem happy and well treated the morning after. and he gets along fine with other women as well. i know a lot of people mention his comment on underage girls but whenever you see him interact with any of those girls you dont see that kind of behavior at all, there are even examples where he seems to relate to the vulnerable position they're in, so it seems to be nothing more than a misplaced joke.

a lot of people forget that this show started 20 years ago, and was written by a bunch of mostly white men. jokes about women and men being girly and gay were very common back then. you got called gay and girly when you drank milk in your coffee, so to speak. my dad got called gay for getting an earring (he thought it was rock 'n' roll) lots of people talked like that, and it didn’t necessarily mean those people were misogynistic homophobes in all areas of their lives. most of the time they were just an average dude who got used to using this kind of language bc it was used everywhere and never really stopped to question it and think about it.

which is also the blind spot spn has, and critique of that is valuable. the writers seem to have put that in because they saw it as funny relatable guy talk and brotherly banter. but nothing shows me it was their intention to make dean look like someone who looks down on women or gay people, and other scenes confirm that. dean is teasing sam in jest, he isn’t trying to seriously demean or hurt him.

i mean, i'm all for finding flaws in a story and twisting them into something that makes sense, but there’s a reason dean feels like he needs to act like more of a careless tough guy: its because he's not. and it leaves him vulnerable. dean is much softer and emotionally open than you give him credit for.

and if that makes you think he’s obsessed with masculinity, you haven't paid enough attention to him. jensen doesnt play dean as a very masculine guy, even with the lower voice. it's a lot more nuanced than that.

[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 3;

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my lovely and kind friend @FloBallestra whose beautiful beautiful art inspired me so much for this story. You’re the coolest, smartest girl in the world, Flo; I love being your friend. 

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, Heat Sex, Knotting, Fluff & Smut & Angst, Premature Ejaculation, Scenting, Dacryphilia; Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Breeding Kink, Excessive Amounts of Cum, Aftercare, Touch Starved Joel Miller, Angst With a Happy Ending

Word Count: 6.8K

Read on AO3

Part 3;

The apartment with the small, warm room you bring him to is a radiant and generous place; some brightly lit bubble of life Joel hasn’t looked upon in years and years.

You tell him you have a roommate who spends all her time with her girlfriend—crazy in love. They work at the opera, too—set carpenter and sound design. Soon, they plan to get married. 

You tell him all of this with a patently wistful look in your eye. Like you’re happy for your friends, and also terribly aware of what it is that landed you in a place like the Emmanuel. 

In your bedroom, there are twinkling lights that hang from the edges of the ceiling, and a mess of a pink and cream colored bed at the center of the closely packed room, blankets and pillows piled high into what looks like a preemptively engineered nest. 

You move into the space slowly, like you’re shy, hesitant to allow him into this sacred place, as you drape his borrowed coat over the back of the desk chair. The surface of which is cluttered with books and papers, a beaten up red journal, a laptop and makeup strewn about haphazardly. An etched glass bottle of perfume perches precariously at the corner's edge, the deep golden liquid within: still and undisturbed. 

“I like your room,” he tells you. 

But what he’d really like to say is that he feels in danger here, in this comfortable space. That he wishes he could run but that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, also. Nowhere to run to. That he’s grateful. That the act the two of you are about to commit here will be undeniably selfish. That at the end of it all, he hopes you might forgive him. 

The look on your face when you turn to thank him, one hand braced against the back of the chair as if to hold yourself upright, is full of the ardor of your unfurling heat, the weight of your biology, the reasons for finding yourself in the basement of an old church. There’s sweat dampening your hairline and a glaze in your eye that tells him soon you won’t even remember your own name, but you’ll surely remember his. 

Joel feels suddenly flayed open, like some prey animal gutted by a wolf, spilling all of his own ravenous hunger out for your witness. It’s a moment of undeniable honesty. His own face, a mirror, his own skin damp with sweat. He’s painfully hard already with your scent on his tongue and fingers and surrounding him everywhere in this room. And the look on your face is so similar to the shiver in his gut, that he decides to be honest with his fears:

“We’re about to do somethin’ selfish here. With no thought for how it might hurt anyone.” Not even ourselves. “And I’ve always been a selfish man. But I worry for you.”

Your lashes flutter, as if taking in the weight of his words. But you smile, “Think I can’t handle it?” Another drooping flutter of your lashes, thick and curling. The fever turns you into an unreliable narrator. He can see the flutter of a too fast pulse beneath the thin skin of your throat. All bravado—you struggle to maintain the smirk. “I don’t think I believe half the things you say about yourself.”

“I don’t care about anything,” he tells you, palms splayed wide as if to show you all his cards. 

“You’re a bad liar, Joel Miller.”

You know his last name without him ever having told you, and it feels like a sign. Like you already know everything there is to know about him, so obviously he’s supposed to be here. 

“You can sit down,” you offer, slowly moving to shut the door. “They never stay here, we’ll have the apartment to ourselves for a few days most likely.”

He swallows his nerves, the reality that he’s never done a thing like this, been in this position before, slides down his throat to settle heavily in his gut as he sits slowly at the edge of the pink bed. On the nightstand there’s a dangerously leaning tower of books: Anna Karenina, The Second Sex, Emily of New Moon, The Norton Anthology of Poetry, an autobiography of W.B. Yeats, The Happy Hooker, The Act of Creation, Seven Gothic Tales. 

A wishful romantic, a realist, a smart girl doing a stupid thing. 

He stares at the stack unblinking. You like to read. This is who you are, this person who collects books in your small, pink room with the absent housemate and a brother who’ll only speak to you once a month. Parents who you want to be nothing like. Someone who works at the opera and likes to walk and eats too many sweets, with the golden perfume teetering dangerously at the edge of a desk. 

Someone who’d dreamt of something better. 

Suddenly, he can’t think of anyone else in his life whose small details he knows like this. Not a single person. Certainly not the woman he’s lived with for the past seven years. Perhaps not even himself. 

And learnt in such a short time, too.

You move around him slowly, a gentle hand at his shoulder dragging to softly touch his cheek. He’s glad it’s you he knows like this. At least there is that. 

“I’m not scared to be selfish. I’m scared of other things, but not that.”

He swallows, eyes wide and dry. And you’re so beautiful, and wanting him, what else is there to be but frightened and here, waiting for you to decide what’s next for him. 

Your soft fingertip follows the curve of his cheekbone, back and forth, watching him with eyes that are not as afraid as his, but wide and young and honest. Full of the potential for life that has so callously slipped through his own hands. He thinks there’s nothing within him that can understand why you’d have found yourself in a place for lonely people. Why would you ever need a miracle cure the way he does? How could God or the whole world not want to miraculously cure you of any sort of loneliness you might have ever suffered? Desperate for the power to turn back the clock, change his whole life, find you at a time when he was young and unbroken and honest, too.

You push his hair back, fingers sliding through the thick strands, dancing over the shell of his ear the way they’d danced over the temptation of sugar. His blood throbs madly at his temples, his muscles spasming beneath his skin; he shuts his eyes, sucking in a slow, deep breath to steady himself. He’s not afraid to admit he’s afraid of this.

He hadn’t suffered any sort of real sex drive in years. His libido cold and inconsistent and… gone. He can’t remember the last time he’d slept with his wife, taken himself in hand. His erection this morning had been the first he could remember in months. Joel worked, he thought of the past, he did not consider himself. He went home, he existed. 

He was so, so cold. Frozen. 

Now, he is here. 

Slowly, he brings his palms to your hips, gripping you there carefully, hearing the phantom sound of your moan in his ear as he’d made you come on his fingers. Unbelieving he’d had the gall to even touch you like that. 

The hand at his ear moves to the buttons at the base of his throat, opening the first, the second. His breathing goes erratic, coming in quick, hot bursts. He pulls you in closer, spreading his thighs wider to make room for you, and his hold on you slips higher, mapping the curve of your waist beneath your sweater. Looking up at you with all the wonder of a man coming upon the answer to a question he’d been looking for his entire life. 

He tries for sound once, falters. There are so many things he wants to say to you now, and all his bravado from the church has fled him. His strength gone under the feel of your soft fingers and the glow of your pink room in the warm fairy lights. Things he wants to say that might frighten you, disgust you, make you wet and pliant. He swallows courage once again.

“You’re going to let me have you.”

A muscle under your left eye flutters light and frantic, spasming with your nerves. You nod once.

“Fuck you, knot you—” he insists on clarification.

Another nod.

“Say it. Lemme hear it.”

“Yes. I’m going to let you have me.”

He pulls you in even closer, a groan as he presses his face against your belly, breathing in deep, filling his lungs until they hurt with your scent. The ache in his groin and his stomach beats behind his eyelids. Your fingers move quickly, undoing the rest of his buttons and then push his shirt back and off his shoulders, smoothing over the hot skin there up to his neck to ghost over the sensitive skin of his glands. He shudders a broken sound, pressing his face deeper into your stomach. 

“The rest—tell me.”

“I’m…I’m going to let you fuck me, knot me.”

He pulls you in tighter, thank you thank you, he says against your midriff, mouth sliding against the knit fabric of your sweater that he pushes up your waist, uncovering the skin of your stomach for him to kiss. 

Tugging the garment over your head, you let it fall to the floor from listless fingers, the soft shucking sound landing heavy against the carpet of the quiet room. You have on a black bra, soft, translucent lace, he can see the color of your nipples beneath, beautiful and succulent so his mouth waters. You’re like wild prey caught in his thrall, looking down at him with those bright eyes full of mirrored hunger. His fingertips make their slow, ghosting way up the skin of your back and then down again, mapping you, catching at the waist of your skirt to tug it down over your legs. You’re left only in your dark tights and tiny underwear. Hands on your hips he pivots you, taking a look at the back of a little thong. He feels perverted—he wants to bend you over and spread you wide and look at it all, press his fingers against tight, sensitive skin before getting to taste it all, too. 

His legs shake and he hides his face against your stomach again, embarrassed with the intensity of his wanting, breath shaking in his lungs. Your hands smooth over his hair, comforting him, soothing and painful all at once. And cautiously, you begin to push him backwards until he’s stretched out and laying against the soft duvet. 

It’s like he floats on a pink cloud, and Joel is nervous. 

With his eyes closed, he concentrates on the feel of gentle fingertips moving over his chest, down his belly, sifting through the hair there to the clasp of his belt—open, his jeans, the zipper, parted. It’ll be his skin next. He breathes fast fast fast, he can’t remember the last time anyone touched him, and he has to focus intently on willing the boiling heat his blood full of mercury has become to calm down or he’ll spend in his jeans without you even having pulled him out. 

At his sides, his arms are tangled in his open shirt, and he’s unable to defend himself when you climb on top, settling on his lap in nothing but your flimsy tights and your tiny panties. 

He can’t look, he’s afraid of what he’ll see. He’s afraid of you. 

“Open your eyes, Joel—”

The immediate realization that he’d been wrong before, that he is a weak man, that he’d never been able to escape it, that maybe all the sad, childless alphas of the world are a little bit the same—dying, it doesn’t bother him as perhaps it would have, had he not made it here with you. 

“I can’t believe I found you,” he says in utter awe—eyes wide open now. 

Your smile is beautiful when you lean over to kiss him. Fingers twisting into his hair as you moan against his tongue, sweet kittennish laps while you grind and press along his chest. He tries to twist out of his tangled shirt, frustration mounting at his trapped arms. He wants to pull you tight, grip you hard, feel your skin and leave his fingerprints everywhere, but you reach down, bracing your hand against his wrist to hold him down. Other hand coming up to circle his throat lightly. 

At the provoking nature of your touch, his instincts finally come fully alive. 

“This you pretendin’ to be in charge?”

“Yes,” you shiver, pressing your face to his throat, your hips starting a rhythmic cant against his abdomen. 

The rumble, low and satisfied in his chest, is one of gratification. Happy to let you play for a moment, familiarize yourself with his body. 

“Alright,” he says. “Enjoy it. It’s all you’ll get.”

He settles back, accepting he’s trapped for now whilst you slither lower, shuffling to straddle his thighs. Your touch is tentative, looking up with your own shy candor and glowing cheeks as you carefully grasp his hard flesh. 

The muscles in his stomach bunch, a rough, pained sound clawing its way up his throat—he has to clench his whole body to stave off a humiliation. 

“Fuck—” Joel whines. 

Pulling back, you shove his jeans down his thighs and he toes his boots off, helping you to dispense with the horrible, confining clothes that hurt his skin. When he’s free, his sex lies there, heavy and jutting, and it embarrasses him. The angry, violent looking thing under your beautiful hand.

But there’s a sound in your throat, click clicking, whining too like him, and when you wrap your small fingers around his cock, the both of you stare down in awe. Your touch is too gentle, not hard enough. He needs more. Straining to wrap his own large hand around yours, he shows you how he needs it. Squeezing tightly he writhes on the bed, moving your palms up and down together, teeth clenched tight. He pulls away, letting you handle him on your own, and your touch goes light again, maddening. 

“Does it hurt?”

“God yes.” 

It aches, it needs inside. 

He hisses when you gently part the spongy skin of the tip, foreskin rolled back, pulling the small slit open. Your eyes are glazed over, shiny with the fever heat now, like you don’t really know what’s going on anymore. Humming to yourself while you play with him.

His sac is heavy and tight, the space behind beats. He’s going to come soon, already. It doesn’t matter that you’ve barely touched him, it’d been so long for him, and you’re so beautiful on top of him, sweaty and fevered and ripe. He rips his arms violently from the trap of his shirt, seams popping and grips your hip forcefully with one hand, the other pulling your touch back to his agonized erection, moving your grip up and down brutally. Reaching to tuck his fingers beneath the half-cup of your pretty, lace bra, he tugs, letting one soft, full breast free. 

“I’m so close,” he begs. 

Your lashes flutter at his tone, nodding your head—I’ll be gentle, I’ll be gentle with you—slicking your palm over the wide, wet head, and then gripping there in a twisting motion, sliding down the length. It’s not hard enough, but goddamn it’s so good, too. 

“I’m going to come in your hand, I’m sorry,” he says, too far gone to remember he was feeling embarrassed just a moment ago. 

Suddenly, his semen is spilling hot and wet over your fingers and down your wrist, knot pulsing in agony. His animal snarl sends a shocked shiver down your back so that you’re gripping him even tighter, pulling his hips off the bed by the cock, your own high pitched sound meeting his deep one. 

He ruts into your fist, moaning, crying your name, and your other hand joins your moving fist to scoop up his thick white come, bringing it to your mouth to smear against your tongue. 

Joel is going to die. 

He jerks you forward, over himself, fists twisting in your tights and wrenching them apart, snapping the clasp of your bra to tear it off. You’re crying his name back at him, writhing against him, wet hand sliding over his skin and getting come everywhere while you tell him how much you ache, how hot you are, how it hurts without him. How you need him. 

Joel is needed, and it is a perfect, suspended moment. 

Flipping you over suddenly, he crowds you with his heavy mass, pulling you up off the bed against his chest, belly to belly, fingers in your hair to tug your head back roughly and bearing the soft column of your beautiful throat, he closes his lips around your gland and sucks hard, the flavor of your pheromones flooding his mouth, sticky on his tongue like honey. Your fists tangle in his hair, pulling him in closer, bearing yourself further, a keening cry on your tongue as he ravages the supremely sensitive skin.

With a growl, he pulls back, running his rough hands all over you. Skin, bare and soft and hot. And with one rough tug, he rips the barely there panties from your hips, beneath him you’re breathing fast and hiccupped in a way that makes him feel like a predator and you some small prey. Your breasts are soft and lovely—on a quiet, hungry sound, he captures the tip of one in his mouth, sucking careful, then hard, biting gently, working the sensitive nipple with his tongue until you’re moaning and pleading with him for more. He can feel your hot cunt wet against his stomach. 

“Hmm, such sweet, sensitive pretty tits. Do you like that, little omega?”

Your scent builds, blossoming and swelling and he feels the change in your temperature when you dip fully into the pit of your heat, his own rut responding in kind, coming up on him like a wave so that he feels suddenly that all sense has been lost and all he is, is a thing that takes, with you beneath him so ready to give. 

He had warned you that this would be a selfish sort of thing. 

Wrapping his big hands around your soft tits, he sucks on one and then the other, slapping the side to watch it jiggle and then, with a rough sound, nipping at it again like he’s angry at how it moves. He slides lower, teeth scraping along your ribs, tasting the curve of your soft belly, dipping to bite at the plump inner slopes of your thighs. Between your legs—God. Had he ever smelled something so sweet? Your arousal is thick and leaking heavily, pooling between your thighs onto the bed. 

You’re beyond words or reasoning now, maybe that’s why he feels brave enough to say: “You can’t imagine the things I’ve done t’you in my dreams. Disgusting things. I wanna fill you so badly, mark you with my scent and my come. Want you to be only mine.”

He buries his face in your cunt, lapping at your hole and sucking on your pretty clit, so swollen. Spreading your sex open to admire what’s his. 

Oh please, you cry above him, dragging your palms over your body to squeeze your own breasts tightly. He watches a lone tear slide down your temple in rapt fascination, and he’s certain he’s never laid eyes on such a sight in his entire life. 

“Shh,” he soothes. “Let alpha kiss your little clit.”

He presses a full mouthed kiss to the swollen bud, eyes still locked on your face, flicking his tongue slowly back and forth. You’re so wet, pouring slick for him. Joel takes a deep breath through a clenched jaw, and distantly, thinks it would be wise of him to make you come first on his mouth. But as he straightens to his knees, his palms sliding up the backs of your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressed against the vulnerable backs of your knees, spreading you wide, touching skin softer than he even knew was possible, he knows he can’t wait any longer. Doesn’t want to. 

You’re begging for it anyways. You don’t want him to wait either. 

His wet cockhead brushes against your belly as he leans over to give you a long, lingering kiss. One last moment of softness, he thinks, before all reason is lost to rut. 

He’d like to say so many other things. That you’re like an angel. That it makes sense he’d found you where he did. That he wants to do obscene things to you. Tie you up—ropes wrapped around your heavy breasts, your soft thighs, so that he might watch your skin take his marks. Keep you captured and bound.

Abstinence does strange things to a man. 

Kneeling between your spread thighs, he lets his cock lay heavy against you, reaching halfway up your belly. Your palm slides over it, pressing at the hot skin, letting yourself rock against it, thighs flexing. 

“This part is the worst,” you cry. “—So hot. Oh, I itch and burn everywhere, alpha.” Your words are slurred and febrile. 

“You’re alright,” he soothes, taking hold of his thick flesh. “I’m here to fix it now.”

You claw gently at his shoulders like a desperate creature seeking safety. He tucks the wide head against your little hole, and eyes full of glorious fever, hair clinging to your sweaty face, you lift yourself up a little to watch him push it in. 

As he presses inside you, Joel feels like he might cry. 

He’s sure when he returns to that house not a home, that meager and cold place, that he will cry. Thinking he can’t remember when the last time was that he allowed himself to weep. Like touch, like lust, like all he’d deprived himself of for so long—his whole life, nothing but abstinence—Joel can’t remember the last time he let himself cry.

Now, he presses deeper, lashes fluttering, and he feels the hot press of tears behind his eyes. He slides his hands beneath your bottom, lifting you, filling you, and hisses, eyes on where he fucks you open. His hips nudging forward, rocking, until he’s balls deep, the wide, painfully sensitive tip of his cock pressed firmly against the mouth of your cervix. His burgeoning knot is an unspeakable ring of pleasure at the base. He bends, hunching over your splayed open form, to kiss your midriff, nuzzling gentle at your belly. Above him, you mumble nonsensically: his name, alpha, pleading for more. 

Joel—it sounds more beautiful than he’s ever heard it said before. Like it means something now, not just a thing that exists, but a real person, too. 

He pulls his hips back until only the wide head remains caught in the tight ring of your pussy—it’s so swollen, he can almost imagine he sees the blood beating beneath the thin, slippery skin. You’ve bloomed for him, and you’re so beautiful for it. He slides forward, hard, bumping roughly against your womb again and grinding there, making you really feel him. You wail once, long and sharp, and then the low pitiful sound of an animal trapped in a maw of teeth. 

“Fuck—Oh, fuck,” he grits, letting himself fall forward on braced arms, looking down at where you connect, how you stretch so shockingly around the thickest part of him, the place just before his knot starts to swell. As if he could tear you apart. 

His thrusts pick up speed, not bothering to measure the strength behind them, you were made for this after all. Perfect little omega cunt meant to be fucked hard—it starts to flutter around him, the wettest, most obscene sound he’s ever heard, squeezing and milking his length as you come on him for the first time. 

“That’s it. Yes—” he growls, fucking you on his cock, your arousal dripping down onto his balls as he pulls out and slides back in with a deep, satisfied groan at the feel of his omega coming for him.

Joel loses his mind to the feel of it—better than anything else has ever been. 

“Is your pretty cunt feeling good? She’s sucking on alpha so well, little one. This is what y’needed. I know. F’r me to fuck you until you wet my cock with your come.”

Wrapping his palm around your throat, reaching for your wrist to pin it to the mattress, the way you’d held him, prone and caught beneath him, he holds your pulse in two places, presses his lips to a third, the perfect, fragrant spot behind your ear. Tasting there, licking and sucking on the delicate skin. Ravenous mouth moving down to your gland, as soft and sensitive as your clit. 

“Perfect, perfect thing. Can’t believe I found you—” he says again, taking your mouth now in a desperately hungry kiss. Your free arm wraps itself around his neck, holding him tightly. His chest fills with a heat so unbearable his heart feels it’ll burst, and then he’s settling as deep as he can, knot catching and swelling, and he’s pumping long spurts of hot come into your soft little womb, filling you. 

His weight falls heavy over you, smothering your body with his much larger one, while he throbs deep inside of you, breathing in your scent, letting himself be suffused with your warmth. 

Your smell, full of heat-fever, so sweet it sticks to his gums—it fills his head with thoughts of what next…what if? Plots to keep this for himself for the rest of his life because beneath all of that sweetness, all of that sticky slick that slides between your two hot, perspiring bodies, there’s him. Beneath all of that, him, him, his. Your bones are made of his own scent now. How could he ever let you go when you’re made of him?

“Look at me, look at me.” He pushes the sweat soaked hair out of your face, tilting your head back to get a good look at you. “You’re alright? Lemme see that angel face.” Your cheeks are burning hot, eyes unfocused, but you give him the most beautiful smile, sated and entirely trusting. 

Your fingertips touch his own face, passing lightly over his eyelids and nose to his mouth. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay, alpha. I’m here.” You tug his head closer with weak, heat-sick fingers. “More. More. I’m so hot—” But you shiver like you’re cold. “It hurts, please.”

“Tell me how it feels,” he rumbles. “Describe it to me.”

He goes limb-heavy over your body, pressing you into the bed, comforting you with his breadth. The skin between your eyebrows wobbles and creases, a tiny frowning pinch, and you make the most curious hiccupping noise. Like the answer to his question needs to work its way slowly through your silly, little heat-addled mind.

“Oh—it’s… it’s— Joel, it’s so good. I never thought—alpha, I never imagined it would be like this,” you mumble and slur. “So full.”

He watches the bright eyes fill with tears then, and spill over in a hot rush, clinging in large perfect droplets to long lashes of which he counts every single strand. The sight of your tears, of your overwhelm—it makes him come more. His cock jerks and swells impossibly fuller, and he begins to spurt again, filling your belly swollen with his seed against his own stomach. 

“Silly thing,” he soothes gently. “S’no need to cry, little omega.”

“Oh, but Joel—” you sob, nuzzling into his throat, mouthing at the swollen gland behind his ear. 

“I know it’s a lot,” he assures you, rolling the two of you over onto your sides, cuddling you close and gentle-like, petting your hair and letting the deep, rumbling sounds in his chest wash over you soothingly. “Just need some rest now. That’s all.” 

He presses a kiss to your hairline, your brow, your mouth again—he licks into it deeply, pulling the edges wider to make more room for himself, his tongue tasting all along your own. He can understand your tears, how overwhelming this must be for an omega inexperienced in taking an alpha with a knot as big as his. It’s true that he might not have had much experience before this, but this is natural, after all. This is who Joel is and what he was meant for. This is exactly where he’s supposed to be. 

I belong here, he whispers into your hair as you settle into him, melting into a heavy and sated sleep—so beautifully obedient, willingly submitting to his caring command for rest. 

He feels so far away from where he’d started, from that mad creature who’d lost everything—that man with a daughter a whole world away. With nothing to hold on to and even less to lose. 

He feels closer to his real self, here and now, than he has in years.

You had both been so alone and in so much pain, but he had found you. 

The heat dips and swells in waves and bursts. You wake gradually from that first reprieve, calling his name, begging for something only he can give you. He takes you again and again, the bed so wet it sticks to your fevered skin, sweat and semen and spit. On your side, back to chest, his body cupped around yours in a shape akin to love, kissing your neck, your chin, the cup of one palm and the inside of a wrist. On all fours, mounted like a defenseless thing, fluttering, little hole creamy from use—spread it open, let me see what belongs to me. Splayed above him, little drip of a girl, cooing his name mindlessly, caressing yourself, sliding your hands over the round of your belly, cupping your breasts, tips of your fingers tangling in your hair while you writhe above him, and Joel…Joel is sure he will die beneath you, watching you like this. He moves inside of your slick heat, cunt like a little furnace. Your tears leak in a constant stream that he licks from your cheeks to slake his thirst. 

Time is a loop and a loop and a loop and maybe the two of you exist here only, together now. 

He thinks that he goes away from himself too, sometimes. Forgets his name and his past and who he was or who he could be and lives only inside your cunt, to fill and mark as his. He is certain that this is the warmest bed he’s ever known. 

When he blinks awake and coherent, he feeds you soup he’s pilfered from the fridge and water that he drips into your mouth from his own, and feels sure that it must turn sweet on your tongue. If anyone could, it’d be you—turn water to wine. 

Joel thinks he might finally believe in God now. 

The gut twisting realization of all he could lose here, how he feels so happy beside you—it turns him from a faithless man into one full of zealous belief. And on a sigh, he feathers his lips over yours, the round of your cheek, the arch of your brow. He’s not alone anymore, and he’s happy. If he could, he’d hold onto this feeling forever.

Your eyes blink open, focused for the first time in hours or maybe days, but heat burns so brightly from the center of your navel, osmosing into his own belly, that he knows he only has a moment. 

“Hey,” softly.

You murmur back at him, confused little hiccups of sound followed by a fluttery kiss to the tip of his chin, the bite of hungry teeth demanding flesh. 

“Did you know you snore?” He laughs into the sensitive shell of your ear, rolling on top of you. His knot is sated for now, but it throbs with the feeling of his heavy length moving within you. 

You blink once, wide eyed—then a funny little frown. “I do not!”

“Yeah, you do. It’s very soft like the purr of a kitten,” he tells you, nuzzling at the swollen gland at the slide of your neck. You make a soft sound at the back of your throat at the touch. “Yes—just like that.” 

“Don’t snore—” you mutter, lashes fluttering and drooping. Too much conversation for the sleepy omega. 

“Don’t go away yet. Talk to me for a little bit. Stay with me.” He squeezes the back of your neck and your eyes blink open, hazy and then alert. 

“Do you have dreams?” He thinks to ask you.

“Oh, yes.” Your eyes droop again, there’s a smile on your face. 

“What about?”

You hum, the look on your face is sly in that half-sleep space he’s trying to tug you out of. 

“Of being great. Of being loved. Of being happy. Of family. Like a story book. I never thought I’d find anyone to love me,” you say with your eyes closed. Joel’s heart writhes in his chest, pains him as if it were cleaving in two. But you’re smiling, tangled in your dream, and say: “I want us to know each other so long and so well, we don’t need words to speak.” 

He’s like an imposter in this bed, for all his feelings of belonging—unsure he could ever give you anything you really want. 

“Does your brother look like you?” he asks all of a sudden.

“Yes. Very much. Does yours?”

“I don’t think so, but people say he does. Where it counts, we’re nothing alike. What’s his name?” he asks you.

You whisper it in his ear. Another one of the small things about your life that he knows about no one else. 

The two of you tell each other things you’ve never told anyone else, funny things, sad things. Words full of hope that leave a bitter and longing taste in Joel’s mouth. 

“Did you never want to have a baby?” you ask, and his heart jumps to his throat. 

“I did once. She died.” 

He can’t believe he has the courage to say these words which he hasn’t talked of in years and years out loud. Your eyes snap open, the pupil contracting so quickly it frightens him. 

“Oh. I understand now.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I see it now.”

“What do you see?”

“What you were looking for.”

“What was it? Tell me—” For part of him feels he still doesn’t know.

“A way back to yourself, of course”

He nods, a feeling of relief so intense washing through his body, his limbs ache with it. Something chemical within him aligning for one perfect, singular second. He feels entirely known, and he thinks: this is the happiest moment of my life— before it fades away. 

“Maybe. Yes.”

“Do you think it can be okay now?” 

You press your entire palm against the skin of his face, as if you’d lift it off his skull and look at what’s held beneath. 

“I don’t know. I don’t think it can ever be okay after something like that.”

“Please, don’t be sad anymore,” you tell him as if it were something so simple. As if it would just be within him because you’ve asked it so. 

“I’ll try.” But he knows it isn’t something he won’t ever be hurt by. Joel realizes, with your simple words, this isn’t something he’ll ever be able to fix. That there will always be something missing, incomplete about him, and that no matter how hard he works, how hard he prays, how deeply he could ever lose himself inside of you, he feels sure it won’t ever be enough. He’s still in want of his miracle. “I’ll try,” he says again. “There are times I feel relieved. She suffered.”

“I’m sorry.” He can tell that you really are. 

“We eventually all do. Perhaps that’s where the relief came from. She got hers over with quick.”

“What was her name?”

“Sarah.”

You put your hand over his heart, your face is wet with tears.

“Do you think this is a betrayal?” you ask him then. 

The reminder of the woman who is his wife, who he had tried to love but who could never reach the bottom of that dark and fathomless well of cold within him to find anything worthwhile, it does nothing to him. Is it a betrayal? Surely to someone who cared it would be. But Joel cannot remember the last time they really talked, the last time either of them cared about one another. Maybe he’s a bad man. He’d chosen her for comfort, because it’d been what he felt he should do. Perhaps merely for something to do, or because he knew it’d be easy. Comforted by the fact that she was a beta and could thus never know him in a more intimate or painful way, in a way that would demand more of him. He couldn’t even accuse himself of not doing right by her because he’d always done what he was supposed to, what she’d asked of him which was so little, truly, that there could be no real claim of betrayal. At least, not before this, you, his knot locked within you and his heart on his tongue ready to be spit into your palm. 

Yeah, maybe he’s a bad man. Certainly one who could never, ever deserve to keep this. 

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I know what the word means anymore.” 

He bids you to sleep again after that, and in a brief respite of clarity, he has the wherewithal to call his house, to let the woman who lives there with him know he’ll be gone for a few days longer. But there’s no answer, and he’s relieved. In the following days, his phone does not ring. 

As he stands before your bed, he takes a moment to study the picture you pose as. Curled in the center of your pink nest—you look lonely. 

Do you even really exist if no one loves you? 

Outside, there is snow in the night—winter come alive in the midst of heat. He climbs back into the bed, taking you into his embrace, arranging you perfectly, a sharp elbow, the soft knee—certain that he won’t ever be able to fix himself, to keep you, choking on gratitude that at least he gets this. He’ll preserve it in his memory for the rest of his life and maybe it’ll be okay. 

As he lays watching you sleep beside him, entirely innocent in your vulnerability, and with such trust, lying here in this bed you’ve shared together, he has for a moment a great and treasurable illusion of the past. This feeling of being trusted by someone so entirely, that gift of someone’s safety and heart and rest handed to him with little compunction, for there is that much certainty in the care that will come from him. Watching the dreamscape unfold behind your fluttering eyelids, the membrane so thin there’s that almost indiscernible pulse of your heart beating through your body. The street lamp glow comes in through a split in the curtains to lay warmly over your lovely face, and there’s only faint sound, the blown snow. Little light, a heart of warmth. 

It’s late now, he thinks, I could love you. Saying it out loud would be like creating a world with its sound. 

He shifts his weight to make you more comfortable, your warm, soft weight rolling more heavily into his side, moaning unintelligibly in your febrile sleep, and then suddenly, lucid—Joel. The sound of his name in your mouth makes him real again for a single moment—how will he ever let this go? His throat is tight, perhaps with the strangle of tears—don’t leave me, don’t leave me, you murmur like you already know. And then settle quiet again, falling away back into deep sleep. 

There is only your rest now, the soft sound of your sleeping, darkness. They are here, the both of them, together. At the center of all things, there is this bond; biology or heart or soul. Fate—perhaps. 

He could bite you, make you his mate, fuck it all to hell. Run away again. He’s done it once before. 

But how could he ever keep you without a miracle fix?

Outside there exists, as always, that great tragedy, that undying grief, that barren loneliness. But for now, there is this, and you, this enduring heart of warmth. His own dreams. 

This cannot be happiness; that ever elusive thing. He must decide that in the here and now, in the presence of this enduring moment. This is the thing he can never earn and will not keep, and even perhaps, cannot realize for what it truly is. 

All of this, he decides with his thumb against the mating gland at the back of your neck. 

This is not joy, Joel lies and lies and lies.

Part 4;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[blackynsupremacy]

UNDER WRAPS

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: you try to be the most loving and supportive girlfriend to nicholas and his career, but can your relationship stand a chance when his pr forces him to be in a relationship with another girl?

contains: based off this request, fluff, kissing, angst with happy ending, sadness, crying, jealousy, arguing, insecurity, anxiety, swearing, established relationship between reader and nicholas, reader is tabyana ali’s cousin and bff, mentions of fake dating with victoria abbott

a/n: if you want to be added to my taglist, please dm me so i can easily find it! i don’t want to leave anyone out!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa

a pang of hurt increased the prominent heaviness in your heart as your thumb held down on the screen of your phone. on each of their instagram stories, you saw your boyfriend of one year, nicholas chavez, and his “girlfriend”, victoria abbott, walking hand in hand at another red carpet event. that’s right. your boyfriend has another girlfriend, but it’s not one would think to be normal. you still question to yourself—where did it all go wrong? after he got his big break from projects such as monsters and grotesquerie, nicholas had been in the spotlight everywhere by booking roles, interviews, photoshoots, and attending prestigious events for actors such as himself. this was all thanks to his immense talent and strikingly good looks, but also to his manager who’d made sure that nicholas’ name will be a name to remember in hollywood.

you couldn’t be more proud of the love of your life. you and nicholas had a great relationship. you both met through your favorite cousin who was basically your best friend, tabyana, who was his co-star on general hospital. you don’t watch the soap opera, but to support her, you went to one of those fan meet events for the show. you found nicholas to be very handsome and charismatic, but you really liked his passion for acting and his humbleness. he was exactly your type, but you didn’t think much of it. he was a whole celebrity and his chemistry with your cousin was off the charts, so you thought the chance of him ever getting with you would be little to none. the event was wrapping up, so you went to find your cousin and bid her a goodnight because you had work the next day. you gave her hug and she grabbed onto your wrist before you could take another step.

“taby—girl, where are you taking me?” you frantically question as she drags you to a table. it wasn’t just any table though. as soon as tabyana stopped, you look over to see none other than her fine ass co-star, nicholas alexander chavez. it was like love at first sight when the warmth of his deep brown eyes met with yours. as you both examine each other’s features, the temperature of your faces rise and the tempo of your heartbeats increase. you just stare at the man in awe as your cousin introduces you to each other,

“hey, nicholas! this is the one i was telling you about. this is my cousin and bff, y/n l/n.” she amicably says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to sort of push you in closer. “y/n, this is my co-star, nicholas chavez.” a smile is instantly visible on his face as nicholas stands to meet you where you stand. you try not to swoon as his cologne intoxicates your senses, but you manage to keep it cool. you take his large awaiting hand into yours for a cordial shake.

“it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, y/n. you’re even prettier in person.”

his heart flutters when you thank him and flash a pearly smile at the compliment. then it dawned you that he said in person.

“thank you, nicholas! i’m curious, what do you mean by in person?” you had to ask just be safe, hoping that he wasn’t a creep, but the next thing he said almost sent you to heaven. nicholas chuckles in bashfulness, a hand in his pocket and the other running through his brown hair. tabyana gave him a knowing look with a smirk,

“do you want me to tell her or…?” she playfully trails off, waving her hand for nicholas to speak up. he clears his throat to meet your gaze,

“i’ll say it, i just don’t want to make a bad first impression— okay, so, taby and i were on set taking a break and she was on her phone scrolling until she just squealed out of nowhere—”

“i did not squeal. i just got hyped up.” tabyana chided, cutting him off. with a playful eye roll, you settle your cousin, so that you could hear nicholas out.

“anyways! she scared me and i asked what’s the matter. she gave me her phone and it happened to be your instagram and you just posted pictures from your vacation when you were on the beach. he paused to clear his throat before he proceeded to speak, “and uh, you looked absolutely stunning, so—i asked about you and that’s how i found out that you were taby’s cousin. she also told me that you were gonna come tonight, so that we could officially meet.” he finished, giving you a nervous, but adorable lopsided smile.

tabyana smiled in satisfaction as her plan to get you two together was working, now she had to get you alone.

“hey, i gotta make my rounds and chat with some fans, nicholas keep y/n company. i love you, cuz! byeeeee!” before you could even protest, she was already scurrying to another area in the venue, leaving you and nicholas alone at the table. not long after, he offered to buy you a beverage and stay a while longer to talk. you wanted to politely decline because you had to go home, but with the new knowledge you just received from him, it was only fair to give him a proper shot. as the time passed by, you two shared joy, laughter, and eventually, a budding romance. the romance was blissful, but still a bit private. you both wanted to make sure that this relationship was going to last before running it to social media, so you and nicholas kept it cute, sweet, and lowkey for the next few months. it was like you were in your own peaceful bubble of love and happiness, but it abruptly popped a week after celebrating your one year anniversary.

“make this make sense, nicholas! what the hell do you mean that you’re getting into another relationship? are you seriously breaking up with me right now?” you stood up from the sofa in the living room of your now shared apartment.

“babe, look. i don’t want to do this either and i’m not breaking up with you, i would never— this is just something that these agents do to ensure that i get more projects. the more i do, the better at acting i get and i could support us both. acting is my life’s dream, but what’s the use of that when you have no one to share it with? i only want you.”

nicholas had just broken the news to you that he had to be in a public relationship with another actress named victoria, which was instructed by his pr team. he stands up to gently take your hand before guiding you into a warm embrace. your head pressed against his chest to hear his steady heartbeat as you pondered. this was all so crazy. you knew that dating a celebrity had its perks and flaws, but why couldn’t you be known to the world as his girl? was it because you’re not an actress or a celebrity in general? was it because of your background? would nicholas fall out of love and leave you for her? so many questions ran a race in your brain as you felt a lump in your throat, your vision blurred by the moisture building up in your pupils which didn’t take long to rain on your face and his t-shirt. at the first whimper, nicholas gingerly pulled away from the hug and guided your chin with his fingers as you struggle to meet his sympathetic gaze. you hated crying in front of him sometimes.

“baby—baby, look at me.” he whispered, never taking his eyes from your blushed, teary face. you sniffled, the soothing pads of his thumbs to wipe the falling tears from your melanated skin calms you enough to listen to him. nicholas presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before he speaks,

“i need you to understand that i’m not just doing this to get my name out there, i’m doing this for us. i know we’ve only been together for a year, but i want to build our future together and i don’t want it to crumble before i start, okay?” nicholas gulps, holding both sides of your jaw not daring to break eye contact,

“do you love me, y/n?” he questions, you don’t hesitate to answer,

“i love you, nicholas. i love you with everything that i am. it’s just—” you pause to sigh before communicating, “i want to be able to show everyone that i’m seriously in love with you. we’ve already kept this private long enough and now you gotta be public with someone else? i don’t know how we’re gonna do this.” you confess, your eyes watering again. you know there’s going to be pictures everywhere of them on different sites and platforms. hell, maybe you might even hear it during lunch break gossip at work. you felt your entire abdomen painfully cave in at the thought, but it dissolves to that familiar warm, tingly sensation when you feel nicholas’ lips press to yours in gentle earnestness, you instinctively return the kiss and he pulls away to press his forehead to yours.

“i love you more, but do you trust me to do this? it’s only temporary.”

trust. you ponder on the short word with such an immense meaning that determines the foundation for any type of relationship. you thought back to all of the times you’ve shared with nicholas, he’s never given you any reason to doubt his loyalty towards you before, but this opportunity for him could change that and that made you worried. for your relationship and your peace of mind, you silently nodded in response.

“use your words, baby, i need you to say it.” he softly urges, intertwining your fingers with his. you peer into his eyes, it was like he wouldn’t make a move without your verbal approval, so he was serious about this after all.

“i—i trust you, nicholas.” you confirm, squeezing onto his palm as if he’ll fly away from you right this second. it was now your turn to initiate a kiss, just to reassure that even though both of you weren’t fond of this situation, you were still going to make this work.

TWO WEEKS LATER

once nicholas went public with his new “relationship” at first you were a bit supportive, but now you were starting to sulk in loneliness. with each passing day, you were starting to feel like nicholas was slipping away from you. during the day, he’d be with victoria out on the street, the beach, on set, anywhere where the faux couple’s pictures could be captured for all of the world to view. in the night, he’d come home eager to see you, wrap you in a warm embrace, and comedically dish out any details concerning all of his “dates” he went on over dinner and a movie. he admitted that some of the places they went to would be great enough for you both to check out. you smiled and pretended to agree, but the idea of taking your real girlfriend on some of the same dates as your fake one felt off to you. social media was starting to become a train wreck for you. no matter how far down you scrolled, they still managed to show up on your feed. it hurt like hell to see a video of them dancing in a nightclub, victoria lovingly gazed up at his figure as if he hung the moon. it was obvious that she developed feelings. nicholas didn’t look too interested, he just tried to be polite with a cordial smile on his face for the camera as they swayed to the beat of the music. the comments rooting for this lie of an alliance wasn’t helping either, so you just deleted all socials except for tumblr and pinterest until it all died down.

that should be you. he’s your boyfriend—if that’s even the truth anymore. you desired to tell the world about the love you had for nicholas, but this could ruin his reputation, his life’s work. this was all too much. damn his agent, damn his pr, and damn this whole thing! you weren’t sure if you could pretend that this was okay for any longer. before you made any drastic decisions out of bitterness, you had to communicate it with nicholas first. all week you’ve been trying to get nicholas alone to speak your heart, but due to his schedule, he was out later than usual which had you fed up at this point. although you were fuming, you patiently waited for him to get home. it was half past midnight when he tiredly walked through the door and jolted a bit when he saw your burning gaze.

“hey, babe! i’m so sorry. the after party ran over so late and i—” he tried to explain, but you cut him off. you wish you weren’t so angry because it sounded like he wanted to be here.

“nicholas, we need to talk.” at your words, he didn’t hesitate to stride from the door to where you sitting. he bent down on one knee to meet your eye level.

“anything, sweetheart. what’s on your mind?” he inquires, taking your hands within his to reassure that was listening. the bitterness within you wants to take them away because these are the same hands that were holding hers. thankfully, your love for him conquered all of that. you sigh out, your eyes shooting to the ceiling as they blur in tears.

“i think we need to take a break—until this whole fake relationship thing is completely over. nicholas, i love you, but i feel like that you’re not even mine. i love what we have, but keeping it a secret while you’re presented as someone else’s perfect lover is tearing me apart.” you confess, your teardrops drizzle on your connected hands as your heart continues to break. he hastily shakes his head, his brown gaze painted with worry.

“no, no—babe, y’know that i’m yours. always. remember what i said i’m doing this for us. don’t you trust me?” he asked.

“i do, nicholas, and i support you and your dreams, but do i really need to suffer for it? how would you feel if i were out some other guy? yeah, i don’t love him, but someone always ends up getting hurt or left out , so there’s gotta be a decision made. heh, i bet you don’t even know that victoria has feelings for you—i’ve seen the way she looks at you in those pictures.”

nicholas is speechless, gazing into your eyes. he gulps before mustering up the correct words,

“so—so what’re you saying? are you leaving me, y/n?”

“not completely, nick. i just—need some space away from all of this. i don’t want you to choose between your career or me, you’re probably under contract and i don’t want to ruin things for you.”

“y/n, please don’t—just give me a chance, maybe i can talk to my team to shut this goddamn thing down. i don’t ever want to lose you. i—” with each word his voice starts to crack and tears form in his eyes at the thought of losing you. it shouldn’t have to be this way. you shouldn’t have to suffer due to the tricky business of hollywood, nicholas realized that roles come and go, but having a love like yours was rare to come by.

“nicholas, i understand, but i think it’s best if don’t see each other right now, so i’m going to be staying somewhere else for a little bit. once this is all over, we can pick up from where we left off.” you confirm, getting up from your seat and walking into your shared bedroom with nicholas not traveling far behind you. he leans against the doorway and observes as you gather a small suitcase that’s already packed with essentials. before you could even walk out of the door, his large frame is blocking your way.

“nicholas—move.” you command while gripping on the handle of your luggage. your eyes begging him to not make this harder than it is for you.

“y/n, don’t do this, please. let’s just sleep it off and i’ll get it straightened out first thing in the morning. besides, where would you go?” he questioned, not moving from his spot.

“i’m not telling you that! look, i want my space, nicholas. at least let me have that until this is over. i can’t stand it anymore. we can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not.” you rebutted, you moved around the room to located your phone, so that you could text tabyana that you needed to crash at her place for a few days and that you would explain later. that’s when you saw him take out his own phone and dial a number. you watched in confusion when he put it on speaker,

“hey.” he firmly greeted on the phone with a hardened gaze and tightened lips. you heard the voice on the other end respond with such an enthusiastic tone,

“aye, nick! how’s it goin’? i just wanna say that the people love you and victoria. i can see the headlines now!” it was his manager on the phone and his words only made want to shrink into nonexistence. this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. he glanced at you, your eyes filled with hurt and frustration, and it ignited a fire within him. this had to stop.

“actually, um—can you hold on a second?” he requested, his voice steady despite all of this drama. nicholas took a deep breath, before he went straight to the point.

“this—with victoria and i, it can’t go on. it’s over. period.”

with a baffled look, your tight grip on your suitcase started to loosen as you stepped in closer to see if this was really happening. there was a pause of silence that grew thick in the air with an awkward tension.

“you there?” nicholas question with an arched brow.

“yeah, i’m here,” his manager replied, slightly puzzled, “but kid, you gotta realize this is just business—acting. you’re basically putting on a show and the world loves to watch it.”

with the shake of his head, nicholas took another deep breath, his heart racing.

“not if it means hurting those who don’t deserve it. look, i can’t keep pretending to be with victoria when my heart belongs to someone else—and what if victoria catches feelings, huh? do you think that’s fair to her? you’re basically stringing her along and that’s messed up.” he glanced back at you, your expression softening as you realized he was fighting for you, for you both. “i want—no, i need to tell the world about my real relationship. we’ve kept things private long enough and i want to be with her openly.”

there was another moment of silence on the other end, and nicholas could almost hear his manager’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose and a sigh of exasperation in the office. “nicholas, you know how this works. what about the fans—”

“the fans deserve the truth,” nicholas firmly interrupted. “a stable relationship is built on the truth and i’m not losing mine because you want me to live a lie for some views—so, call whoever the hell you need to while i’ll break the news to victoria because this is all over. do we understand?” he concluded, not taking his eyes away from you. you felt your heart swell as you watched him stand his ground, the weight of the world seemingly lifting from both of your shoulders. his manager sighed in defeat before responding and nicholas smirked because he knew he got his way.

“alright, alright. let me see what i can do, but you know this could shake things up, right?”

“that’s cool.” nicholas said, shrugging his shoulders, but with determination in his voice. “consider me ready.”

you heard his manager let out a chuckle,

“you got balls, kid. that girl of yours sure is lucky.”

nicholas warmly gazed at you, a simper growing on his lips.

“you’re damn right, but i’m luckier.” with that, he hung up the phone and strided to you to place his hands on your shoulders. his expression a mix of hope and vulnerability.

“baby, i am so sorry for everything. i was so selfish and blind that i couldn’t see how much i’ve hurt you. i thank you for believing and trusting in me, but it shouldn’t have to cost you your happiness—ever. i love you too much for that to happen again and trust me, it won’t happen again. i don’t care about headlines, i care about you. i care about us.”

tears brimmed in your eyes, but this time they were tears of sweet relief instead of painful sorrow.

“are you being for real, nicholas?”

“i’m dead serious. y’know how you say that you don’t play about me? well— i don’t play about you either.” he sincerely said, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer proximity. “i love you, and the whole world deserves to know. i don’t give a damn about who supports it or not.”

you finally show a genuine smile through the sadness, and you nodded, your heart racing at every word. this felt like a dream, but this was reality, your reality. “i love you too, nicholas. god, i was so tired of feeling like a secret.” his burly arms enclose tighter around you, your own reaching to clasp together around his neck.

“no more secrets. from now on, it’s just you and me. no one else. unless—the future is good to us and we start a family.” even though there was a glint of mischief within his eyes, you could tell that he was dead serious.

“you big softie, c’mere.” you playfully roll your eyes and stand a bit taller to press your full lips against his. as you kiss, the tension of the past few weeks instantly melt away as you both step into a new era of your relationship, ready to take on any challenges as soon as the world finds out about your no longer secret love.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Phantom of the 141

Pairing: Task Force 141 x Reader

AU: Phantom of the Opera 141 x reader

Warnings: Dark themes, obsession, possessiveness, stalking, implied violence, minor horror elements, yandere undertones, romanticization of toxic behavior, power imbalance, emotional manipulation.

Author's Note: This is a Phantom of the Opera AU where each member of 141 embodies a different version of the Phantom, haunting the opera house in their own way. Some are gentle protectors, others are dangerous lovers—but all of them are utterly devoted to you. Inspired by gothic romance, dramatic declarations of love, and an all-consuming need to claim one's muse. I’ve been obsessed with the PotO for so long and I see a lot of people have Simon as the phantom but what is all the boys were Phantoms?

Masterlist | Part 2

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Simon "Ghost" Riley – The Haunting Shadow

The darkest, most untouchable Phantom—a presence that lingers in every corner of the opera house, watching, waiting.

- You never see his face—only the silhouette of his bone-white mask reflected in the grand mirrors of your dressing room.

- He moves in absolute silence, appearing and disappearing like a specter. The air shifts when he’s near, the candlelight flickers. Your heart pounds, knowing he’s close, even if you can’t see him.

- His voice is deep, smooth, and inescapable—it comes from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It seeps into your mind like a melody you can’t unhear.

- “Sing for me, songbird…” he whispers in your ear, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. You spin around—no one is there.

- “Only for you,” you find yourself murmuring back, entranced.

- You wake up to handwritten sheet music left on your vanity, unfinished compositions waiting for your voice to complete them.

- “You are my inspiration,” the note reads, inked in his bold, elegant script. “The only one worthy of my music.”

- You press your fingers to the parchment, your heart aching at the devotion woven between the notes.

- When another man dares to get too close—a suitor, a fellow performer— they vanish.

- No one dares speak of it. A freak accident, the stage crew whispers.

- But that night, Ghost’s voice is different—less controlled, more desperate.

- “No one will take you from me,” he growls, the faintest trace of vulnerability bleeding through.

- His gloved hand caresses your throat before tilting your chin up. “You are mine, love. Say it.”

- And God help you, you do.

---

John Price – The Mastermind

The true ruler of the opera house, its unseen king. Price is not just a Phantom—he is a powerful, possessive force who ensures that you belong to him, whether you realize it or not.

- The lead role is yours before you ever auditioned. Your name appears at the top of the cast list, as if fate itself placed it there. You never saw who made the decision—only a lingering wisp of cigar smoke in the director’s office.

- He watches your performances from his private balcony, an unreadable expression on his face.

- His eyes never leave you, burning with something dangerous yet reverent.

- When the crowd erupts into applause, his lips barely part: “Good girl.”

- You shiver, unsure if you imagined it.

- He visits your dressing room after each performance, inspecting you like an artist admiring his masterpiece.

- “You’re extraordinary, love,” he murmurs, adjusting a loose strand of your hair. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

- His voice is warm, smooth like velvet, but his touch is possessive—lingering, unwilling to let go.

- You never question why the doors always lock behind him.

- When you try to leave—when the opera house begins to feel like a cage of velvet and gold—you find yourself unable to escape.

- The doors don’t open. The carriages won’t take you. The world outside seems to bend around his will.

- “You trust me, don’t you?” he murmurs, standing behind you, hands resting on your shoulders.

- Your reflection in the mirror looks lost, trapped between love and fear.

- “I’ve given you everything,” he breathes against your ear. “Why would you ever leave?”

---

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish – The Passionate Phantom

Unlike the others, Soap doesn’t want to frighten you—he wants to win you.

- Your dressing room is filled with roses, their petals soft and blood-red, their scent wrapping around you like a lover’s embrace. Each one is accompanied by a handwritten letter, signed only with J.

- “You make my heart race like a drum in an orchestra,” one reads. “Sing for me, bonnie—I want to hear how love sounds.”

- You press the letter to your chest, feeling the weight of his devotion settle into your bones.

- One night, when you hum a tune absentmindedly, another voice joins yours from the shadows.

- It’s warm, rich, full of love—a perfect harmony.

- “You sing so beautifully, lass,” he murmurs. “But you already knew that, aye?”

- The warmth of his presence envelops you, a stark contrast to the cold loneliness of the opera house.

- When he finally reveals himself, he doesn’t threaten you—he kisses you, hard and desperate.

- “I’ve loved you from the moment I heard you sing,” he confesses, his forehead pressed against yours.

- “Let me love you. Let me be yours.”

- And when he looks at you like that—like you’re the only star in the night sky—you almost want to say yes.

---

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick – The Gentle Phantom

The most human, the most tragic—the Phantom who loves you but fears you’ll never love him back.

- He doesn’t send roses or whisper threats—he leaves music.

- Late at night, the soft notes of a piano drift through the empty theater, melodies that make your heart ache.

- They sound like longing, unspoken words, a love that will never be returned.

- And yet, you still hum along, feeling his presence lingering in every note.

- You catch glimpses of him—a face half-hidden behind a curtain, warm brown eyes watching you from the rafters.

- When you turn, he’s gone. Always gone.

- But his presence lingers, like a ghost that refuses to leave your heart.

- One night, he steps into the light, mask in hand. His hands tremble.

- “If you knew me,” he whispers, his voice raw, broken, “would you love me?”

- Your breath catches—because for the first time, you realize…

- Maybe you already do.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[the-roo-too]

karina fluff alphabet when? 😭😭

now? 🥲

candy -> yu jimin ver

aka the fluff alphabet

admiration (what does she absolutely adore about you)- i can’t say you whole because that would be too cliche, but it’s kinda true. she looks at you with those heart eyes like you build her world brick by brick

body (what’s her favourite body part of yours)- karina the typa girl who’d poke your lip a little lol. running her thumb over it—she loves that shit. you have so many lip balms because she says they remind her of you

cuddling (how she likes to cuddle)- i think she likes looking at you when you’re cuddling. just because you look so cute up close, yk? (with rizz 🫦) so she loves you laying your head on her lap, or you cuddling up to her chest <3

dates (what’s her ideal date)- cat cafe typa person. you’re eating yummy pancakes AND a cute little cat is purring on your lap? alternatively she’d love to hear some classical music for a late night outing, like going to an opera just for the sake of it. she’s a sucker for classical music i’m telling you 😔

emotions (how does she express her emotions around you)- with that, she doesn’t really hide. you’re her girlfriend, you both should communicate your emotions to ensure a happy relationship:)

family (does she want one)- maybeee..? she’d like kids at home but not maybe all of the time. i think you two would be the rich gay aunties who spoil their little nieces if anything

gifts (what about gift giving)- she’s not to big on that tbh. in the love language section i get more into the details, but karina prefers acts of service over gifts, she’ll also love if you do it back!

holding hands (does she like to hold hands)- not in public!!! but at home? she has to hold your hand while you’re watching movies or she’ll just spend the whole time looking at you with a pitiful pout on her face

injuries (what would she do if you got hurt)- hurt=papercut: kisses it better and runs to get you a bandaid. “wounds heal better when you kiss them”; hurt=broken leg: when you get the cast, she carries you around everywhere 😭 you’re like a backpack now, glued to her back. now imagine the muscles she’ll build with that workout…

jokes (does she like to joke around)- dry ass dad jokes and you can’t convince me otherwise. karina would use bad pick up lines on you, the ones you’d find on tiktok or smth. she’d be so proud too 😭😭😭

kisses (how does she like to kiss you)- i’m thinking hand on your cheek, caressing your skin gently when she leans in to peck your lips <:)

love (what’s her love language)- acts of service. brings you coffee in the morning, offers to give you a massage when you come to her tired after a long and busy day. she thinks gifts are nice, but not personal enough. karina wants you to feel how much she adores you

memory (what’s her favourite memory together)- seeing you on the street one day 😭 first time you two met it was raining heavily and she won you over by running to you with her umbrella, mustering up all of her rizzing nature 😔 the memory still makes her stomach flutter

nighttime (how does sleeping with her look like)- big on being the big spoon, then cuddles up to you like a cat in the middle of the night. she just needs to be warm ok. you think you’re in a relationship? you’re her personal heat pad

oddity (what’s one quirky thing about her)- karina is a massive loser i am telling you

pet names (what does she like to call you)- ‘babie’, ‘my cutie’, ‘dearest’. maybe also variations of your name like ‘y/nnie’, ‘y/nny’ etc

quality time (how does she like to spend time with you)- imagine for a second that you play some instrument, like piano. now stay with me, she absolutely adores it. wants you to play her silly pieces, like parts of their songs or chopin’s waltz’s.

rush (does she rush into things)- after that previous relationship? no thank you 💖

secrets (how open is she with you)- tells you about how she stole a pencil from her best friend in third grade, a secret she promised to take to grave with her, but refuses to tell you her parent’s names until you’re together like a year. silly things > personal info

time (how long did it take her to confess)- you tricked her into confessing ☝️ girlie wasn’t picking up on your ‘subtle’ signs (visiting her every two days for a month straight) so you talked about hot idols you’d have a crush on until she admitted to hating when you spoke about others because she wanted you to be hers 🤙

upset (what’s her reaction when you’re upset)- karina needs help then lol. she won’t know by herself what to do. maybe if you’re upset over something minor, like her forgetting to give you a kiss when she was leaving in the morning, she’s just kiss you to apologise when she’s back? otherwise the whole aespa is recruited as a rescue squad lol

visibility (is she afraid of the public opinion)- terrified 👍 we all know how fans reacted to her last public relationship so… idk if she would wanna come out with you until you’re like getting married 🥲

warrior (how often do you fight)- i think she’s a little scared to fight honestly. she thinks fighting would make you see her weak sides and she’s just scared to loose you :(((

x-ray (is she able to read you)- yes but also, karina is a loser trapped in a hot body let’s be honest. she just doesn’t pick up some clues :( poor baby thinks you’re coming to their dorm just because and it takes a lot of convincing for her to understand your one on one late night hangouts are in fact dates

yes (how would she propose to you)- in the most corny ass way you can think of. sappy love confession under the moonlight OR maybe she’d propose if dispatch somehow caught whiff of your relationship lol. then it would be rushed tho

zen (what makes her feel calm)- hear me out, driving around. especially, driving around a motorcycle. i don’t think she has a motorcycle license lol karina just gives me the vibes of someone who, when she’s stressed, would ask you to get with her on her bike. also, wrapping your arms around her waist ☝️🤓

part of [the fluff series]

[sarawritestories]

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: Life isn't worth living without your mate by your side.

A/N: I'm making my angsty mood everyone else's problem. 😘 I also got misty eyed writing this

Content Warning: PLEASE READ CAUTIOUSLY Suicidal Ideation, Self Harm, suicide attempt, Death of a Main Character. Grief

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Title inspired by this song:

You couldn't escape him. Every where you turn, it was as though he was there. His scent, his clothes, his weapons it was suffocating. Cruel. Two years. You only had two years with Cassian before he fell in battle. Two years with your mate.

How cruel the mother was two years of stolen kisses, late night snacks, morning runs, and his constant need to have his arms around you. With him, you were safe, loved, and cared for.

You had begged him not to leave to stay home with you. He simply pressed his forehead to yours and whispered, "I promise to come home to you, Sweetheart." You sobbed as he pressed his lips to your and then kissed your tears away, "I am the General of the Night Courts armies. I have been to many battles and have always come home. I will come home to you sweet girl." Another soft kiss, "I love you."

With a wobbly lip, "And I love you. Be safe." You hand him the necklace that he gave you for solstice of an eight pointed star. He wrapped the chain around his neck and took to the skies.

When Rhys and Azriel returned, your eyes searched everywhere for flashes of red. Only to notice Cassian's brothers had streaks on their mud ridden and bloodied faces from where they shed their cheers. It was Rhys who held out his hand, and you hesitantly took it. He held your palm up and placed something cold in it when he moved his hand, the eight pointed star necklace caked in dirt, and blood stared back at you. Shock riddled your body as Rhys said in your mind, I'm so sorry, Darling

Shaking your head, you clung the necklace to your chest. You found it difficult to breathe as you reached through the bond. Calling out for him, only to find the other side empty. Hollow. Hands were on you as you collapsed to the floor and sobs overtook your body. Still pushing love down the bond, only to be met with cold, dark air where his warmth and love used to be. You screamed, "Cassian!" Over and over until your voice became dry and you ended up dehydrated.

Az scooped you in his arms and brought you to your bed where the faint scent of Cassian remained and a fresh wave of tears came. What if the smell faded? Would your memories of his smile, his eyes, his long, onyx hair be gone too. Az just sat and held your hand until your sobs turned into hiccups and exhaustion pulled you into sleep.

After two months, you were finding it hard to get out of bed. The necklace tucked to your chest, wearing one of his shirts, and you still reached out to the dulled golden string. You hoped that it was a bad dream.

Rhys and Az would alternate taking care of you, making sure you were fed and made sure you stayed hydrated they had a schedule and a pattern that you picked up on.

You had overheard them talking about trying to get you out and into society again. You barely saw the point, your mate was ripped away from you, and now, colors were dull, music fell flat, nothing was worth seeing without Cassian.

You sat up from your bed and sighed, and you wanted him hear in your arms in. You wished that he would appear again. You hung your head low because you knew that was wishful thinking and that he would never come back.

You pulled something out of the dresser on his side, trying to fight the tears as a fresh wave of his leather and Sandalwood scent flooded your nose. You headed to your bathroom, placing the Star pendant around your neck. Not noticing the tendril of black watching your movements. You whispered to the void, "Az, Rhys, Please forgive me. Mother, please take me home to my mate."

You took the knife, and pressed it to your skin, Az and Rhys hadn't noticed the faebane you stole from Rhys' office that you took in concentrated doses to slow your healing. You watched as the blood pooled against your wrist as you dug the blade deeper to drag down.

You heard the door slamming open and hurried footsteps to the bathroom, "Y/N!" Az shouted as he grabbed the knife from your hand had a shadow bring him a towel to wrap around the wound. He pressed your back to his chest and held you close whispering words your couldn't distinguish in your ear.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Three times and anger bubbled over. You began to thrash in his arms his strength out matched yours. "You bastard, I wanted to go home to my mate! I don't want to be here without him! Why would you do that? Let me die!" Your screams turned into cries, "I just want to die."

Rhys walked to face you, tears streaking his own face. "Darling. He wouldn't want that for you."

You sobs continued, "What about what I want?" Your voice cracked. You leaned your head back against Az shoulders. "Why did the mother have me meet my mate only to take him away. I only had two years. You both had centuries." The cries turned to whimpers, "It's not fair." Az began to rub soothing patters around your waist. "I wanted more time."

The two males had no words, so they both just sat on the floor with you and let you sob. Your constant murmuring of time stolen and wanting to be with Cassian.

And once you had cried yourself to sleep, did Az and Rhys have madja heal your arm and place you in Az's bed, both agreeing that you were not to be left alone for a while. The two males watched you sleep with a crease between your brows.

And even in your sleep, you tugged on the fading gold thread. Never knowing that somewhere in the afterlife, The General was desperately tugging back.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Emperor! x Opera artist! reader Headcanons:

Warning: I will use the Chinese imperial harem system, plus it will be set in a kind of forbidden city (yes, I have seen Chinese palace dramas, XD). Topics to talk about: Mention of kidnapping, abuse, possible manipulation and murder. Although I use elements of ancient China or imperial Asia, I am not describing any emperor in particular; instead, I'm making up my own.

Enjoy it!

1. Yan Li was about 29 years old when he became emperor, and at that time he had an empress whom he loved very much, but she died in childbirth with the first prince due to her poor health, and from then on he became very sad and depressed.

2. You were a beautiful street opera artist who sang and danced at different events. You ran away from home after your noble parents planned to marry you to a man of not very good intentions.

3. You suffered a lot the first few years, but slowly you gained a group of artist friends, and among them is this girl from a humble class named Lili.

4. On the other hand, you had met a young blacksmith named Zhou, with whom you had a secret romance, which only Lili knew about. You and Lili had become confidants.

5. Due to your escape from home, you were also able to avoid the mandatory imperial selection for a long time. In this selection, girls from certain clans were taken to the palace to be selected to be consorts or concubines of the emperor or princes present.

6. You had lived happy and free, without problems until that fateful day…

7. Yan Li's mother, the Empress Dowager, saw how depressed her son was, so she convinced him to organize a trip to the southeast of the country to distract himself, and after a while, Yan Li agreed. After this, the townspeople and ministers organized all kinds of spectacles for Yan Li's arrival.

8. You and your group of artists were hired for those shows, and you were the main actress, not knowing that that would put you in hell.

9. When he arrived at the town where you were, everything started well until the show started and you started acting, dancing and singing. He was captivated by your beauty and your voice, a quality that his wife also had.

10. For him, it was like seeing his wife back. He watched you do similar dance moves, and he remembered his wife doing these same dances for him in the past.

11. He was very impressed with you, which made him come to the conclusion that he wanted to have you.

12. After the performance, you sensed that something was wrong, so you told Lili and your group, and then fled through the darkness of the night to a neighboring town.

13. Yan Li finally set out to find out about you and your whereabouts, and was not at all amused to find out that you were gone.

14. You began to flee with your group of friends from Yan Li's clutches, and you even met with your beloved Zhou and told him about your situation. Yan Li on the other hand, was already getting impatient for not finding you, so he gave the following order:

--Look everywhere for her, and if anyone is hiding, kill them and bring her to me!-- 15. The guards questioned each villager to find out about you, and thanks to that you were located and caught trying to escape with your friends at night.

16. Yan Li walked up to the scene, walking with a smile as his men captured you and your friends. You were very scared; Yan Li holds your face lightly by your chin, making you look at his face. Seeing the situation you put your friends in, you began to beg for their lives.

17. --I…I will surrender to you, but please let them live, your majesty-- You begged Yan Li. He was surprised that you didn't resist him, so he just ordered them to put you in his carriage. Lili tried to do or say something, but Yan Li told her to stay out of all this.

18. Yan Li had you put into his carriage and tied your wrists and ankles and then Yan Li got in, sitting next to you and that's how he ended up taking you to the palace.

19. He talked to you the whole way and although he seemed kind, it didn't take away your fear of what he might do to you. Basically when you arrived at the palace he locked you in a palace that he had prepared just for you.

20. After investigating your past, he discovered your bad relationship with your parents and what you did after running away from home. You seemed magnificent to him and in a way… bold and brave.

21. When he let your parents know that you would be his consort from now on, they agreed. You weren't expecting anything good from them, but this last one definitely hurt you, since they sold you to him just like that.

22. The wedding took place, and Yan Li conferred on you the imperial title of "Noble Lady", and immediately had your green label prepared. The green labels are labels that contained the names or imperial titles of an emperor's consorts, which turned the label of the concubine with whom he wished to sleep.

23. Yan Li spent his free time with you and explained to you personally what things were like in the palace, something he had not done with any other woman, in addition to emphasizing that he would take care of you and love you.

24. When your green tag was ready, Yan Li immediately turned it over and sent word that you would sleep with him that same night. He sent for you with eunuchs and everything. When you were locked in his room, you were wearing fine silk pajamas that Yan Li loved. It was a beautiful dream to see you like this; you wanted to run, but he held your hand tightly, reminding you of what he was capable of doing to your friends, innocent people, and possibly your loved one, so you ended up submitting to him.

25. He did this every time he wanted to get you pregnant, which is why you ended up having six children with him; four princes and two princesses, while your first son, the "third prince" was the eldest of all the princes. You had to rise through the ranks and use Yan Li's hands to protect yourself and your children from palace intrigues.

26. Thanks to Yan Li, you have gone through the following ranks: Noble Lady, Imperial Concubine, Consort, Noble Consort and so on until you reach the empress.

-End of part 1. Have a good night :3

[inkdragon1900]

Finished my umpteenth Arcane rewatch ( it’s 100% above 30 now but I lost count around 25 about a year and a half ago ) anyway so here’s some character headcanons.

Vi realized she was a lesbian due to developing a crush on an older girl in a gang when she was younger and 100% adopted some of her stylistic influences.

Caitlyn due to her sheltered upbringing didn’t realize she was a lesbian until she was older.

Mel’s father taught her how to paint.

Sevika was the powder of Vander and Silco’s group growing up.

Silco had the statue of Vander erected.

Smoking originally became a symbol of power in the undercity cause younger Vander nabbed a pipe off of an enforcer.

Jinx tried to play her and Vi’s monster game to try and chase the hallucinations of Mylo and Claggor away the first few weeks after getting taken in by Silco.

Xemina Talis started calling both Jayce and Viktor her boys whenever anyone asked about them after like the 4th family function Jayce brought Viktor along too. She’s never outright asked if Viktor has any living family but his near nostalgic expression as he observes from the sidelines is answer enough for her.

Jayce and Viktor talked a lot after their hextech discovery but as the council debated about letting it continue they talked a little less until Jayce sent Viktor a new cane he built to replace the one that broke with a note asking to meet him for dinner.

Caitlyn and Jayce consider themselves siblings and started to correct any idiot that thinks otherwise in a lie about how they’re biological siblings that has become more and more elaborate by the year. Cassandra thinks it’s stupid but goes along with it, Tobias thinks it’s the funniest thing ever and joins in every now and then to add another incredibly elaborate lie or two.

Cassandra and Tobias are both trans and supported eachother through their transitions, going as far to delay their wedding so Cassandra could find the perfect dress and Tobias could get the perfect tux.

Viktor is bi and after a rousing game of never have I ever between he and Jayce admitted to having actively dated more than 30% of Piltover academy’s student body.

Jayce drunkenly admitted that he is also bi and has dated exactly three people in his lifetime.

He also found out that night that he and Viktor have three mutual exes.

Caitlyn likes writing love poems.

Ambessa came to Piltover not only for weapons but because after finding out about her son’s death her stomach dropped thinking about Mel in danger.

Silco loves the opera and once when he was younger successfully snuck into one.

Ekko personally painted the portion of the mural of Benzo, Vander and his friends.

Ekko and Jinx have had a running contest of who can tag more of the city since they were kids Ekko thought the game had ended until he started seeing Jinx’s pink and blue monkey everywhere he started tagging the green hourglass back.

[cemetegee]

Dulcianthe Phantom of the Opera AU [idea]

This is honestly nothing I'm ever going to write (I think), but I want to talk about the potential of a Dulcie x Ianthe Phantom of the Opera AU. And I'll now explain why:

Let's first check who's who. "Creepy" overdramatic "villain" (but merely just a hurt morally ambigous person)? Ianthe! (That girl lives in the shadows even without living under an opera, she's perfect for that role. Also, she obviously has some strange position to her own look due to her sisterhood with Corona. Whenever someone compliments her on her appearance in HtN she says: "You should see my sister. -> Mask)

Dulcie as Christine. Not because it fits! As opposed! It doesn't fit at all. It would be really interesting to me to see a more able-of-defensity and funny Christine. She is so cool :33

Palamedes & Camilla (or Paul) as Raoul. They are PERFECTLY made for such a forced love triange, because Dulcie IS already unsure about her relationship to them (because of her cancer and mortality) so that would be another point on the drama agenda.

And now let's come to the story. The genuine thrill about Dulcianthe (to me) is basically, that Dulcie is able to understand Ianthe in a way no other character can. (As for example demonstrated in The Unwanted Guest. Her topic of expertise is putting on (and therefore discovering) a show.) In this AU, Ianthe would live for who-knows-how-long under that opera. That must naturally strenght her wish that she obviously has in the books (to be truly seen) and that the phantom implicitly formulates very in Phantom of the Opera, and that I find even more touching in German:

Hounded out by everyone! / Met with hatred everywhere! / No kind word from anyone! / No compassion anywhere! |

Jeder hetzt mich wie ein Tier! / Jeder lässt nur Abscheu sehn! / Niemand spricht als Mensch zu mir, / Niemand will mein Leid verstehn!

Kindness and compassion...

The problem with Dulcianthe is very much, that at first glance, Ianthe seems to profit much more from the Dulcianthe relationship than Dulcie. (Although, in my opinion, Dulcie would surely profit from the non-chalant und somewhat melancholic way Ianthe is, as well as Ianthe would profite from Dulcie's opposed character traits. They are really like puzzle pieces which fit perfectly together. Anyway.) That means, that Dulcie needs a reason to even engage with Ianthe. And that reason is quite obvious in the Phantom of the Opera setting:

She has no choice. (:D)

I mean, just imagine all the key moments from the movie/play in songs & text... The fic writes itself.

The title could be "The Tears of Love Smell Divine", as I read them just yesterday in an ad for perfume. :D

[mari-lair]

Akane is a popular kid, arguably the most popular student outside Aoi and Teru, at least in his own class, so let's talk about it!

In his introduction, we are told the basics: how Akane is a childhood friend of Aoi, dutiful, obsessed with her, and so on. During this exposition, we get this small panel of two guys looking at him with a positive opinion of him:

It's important that the stripped shirt guy is the one who says "Akane is so nice" cause it is implied he has a crush on Aoi, or at the very least, that he considers her really cute, blushing when she is just living her life.

So even people who should consider him one hell of a romantic rival don't think badly of him. I would go as far as to say that they are invested in his obvious crush on Aoi because of the amount of attention he gets after being enchanted by the confession tree.

In an arc where everyone starts to get together, is hard to notice or even care about new couples.

But the whole class stops when Akane and Lemon claim to be dating. They surround the boys and talk about it, openly staring at them. (shout out to @bpzau-d-r-a-w-s for pointing out this crowd)

Which I would have assumed is homophobia if it wasn't for how many guys confess to Teru on the daily without being spared a single thought, or the way no one is trying to comfort Aoi.

If he was only known as 'that dude that follows Aoi' the class reaction should be "Great! Her bodyguard is not in the picture anymore! That's my chance!" but they don't spare Aoi a glance. No one cares that "our calm and composed popular queen is crying in the middle of class." right now. They are just... focused on Akane, too shocked by his change of heart to care about much else.

I know is Akane getting this attention instead of Lemon because the class reacted the same way once Akane started studying like crazy to win 'Teru's challenge' in chapter 59.

People don't dismiss his behavior as "hum, weird, well whatever" like when Nene talks to 'herself '(talk to Hanako) in class, they keep crowding and talking about Akane, they are invested, aware of the context of the situation (so they asked him) and familiar enough to take a guess that his behavior is related to Aoi.

So they care about what this weirdo is doing, he is a soap opera to the class! Just look at how invested people get when he says no to Aoi, even the background crew are open-mouthed or confused.

This idea Akane is a boy people pay attention to is everywhere in the manga.

Even for a class representative/council guy, it is ridiculous the number of people who want his help. He is always surrounded by people wanting his help.

I personally can't see that many people approach someone just to take advantage of them, he makes others go "Oh it's Aoi! I can trust Aoi to be of help :D" but I acknowledge that can be seen as a sign of how incompetent his class is or just people wanting to take advantage of him, so I'll talk about the cases people run to him that are nonrelated to his duties, is just his vibes:

Tiara gets super attached to Akane in no time, literally clinging to him out of everyone in the room, running to his side whenever there is an opportunity for it.

Hanako, who is apathetic towards most humans and supernaturals alike, loves his guts. Even if the admiration is not mutual.

Teru and Aoi are prideful people who have the whole school paying attention to them. They look at Akane the most.

Girls especially seem to like him.

We don't see him interact with many girls considering Aoi's jealous nature, but enough to tell the boys in his class call him 'Aoi', and the girls call him 'Akane-kun.' (shout out to @iamhereinthebg for pointing that out)

I am convinced the reason he doesn't get many confessions is because he brutally shuts down anyone who tries.

He isn't like Teru and Aoi, he does not believe in "I'll let them down gently, give them a cute smile to soothe the pain of rejection" he just crushes their hopes without hesitation and makes it clear they have no chance.

The one girl we explicitly see confess to him only ever hoped Akane would accept her chocolate, having no hopes her feelings would be returned but caring enough to let him know anyway.

And Akane still rejected her chocolates.

He seems to be relatively used to confessions, to the point he panicked when Nene said "I've meant to talk to you for ages" and immediately assumed she wanted to confess to him.

His answer is so quick, almost scripted "My heart belongs to another. I'm sorry." it makes no sense if he isn't at least somewhat used to getting love confessions.

Considering how... Unpleasant confessing to a guy who everyone knows has been madly in love with someone else for more than a decade must be, I am not surprised almost no one is brave enough to even try to pursue him. His blunt, borderline rude, way of expressing that his suitors are not welcome probably doesn't help either.

Bonus:

He is no idol, people do not trip over themselves when they see him like with Aoi and teru, but I do think he is considered a 'pretty boy' in canon.

Maybe I am reaching cause I am biased af, but I do find it wild that he is drawn super pretty in other's people pov when he is being playful or flirty, and the person always blushes about it.

EDIT: In a Twitter Valentine event that takes place in the canon world, Akane is described as having admirers.

[crovvhaven]

So I see you art everywhere. From Pinterest to here. From Hogwarts Legacy to Baldursgate 3. And I'm ALL for it. I'm an Ominis girl and a definite Gale simp. And I absolutely love your art. It is the best. Don't ever stop doing what you love. EVER. If someone tries...heck them up. But I noticed the post with Phantom of the opera. But hear me out. Imagine Gale dressing up as Phantom and you Mr tav was Christine? That would be amazing and the dress would look amazing on her.

Thank you! very appreciated 🥹💖🤲 and aaaaaa omg your brain..your idea! I always want to draw my otp as Erik and Christine (IT couple fr Me n who?)

[thelamentknight]

Miette Antoinette

Twisted Marie from Aristocats

Female/19 (don’t know why Tumblr just suddenly makes the 19 bigger)

French Japanese

Lesbian

Virgo

Cat Beastwoman

The Middle Triplet

Owner of Le Petit Chat Cafe

Mother is a famous, wealthy Opera Singer. Her Stepfather is a decently popular piano player. She has two brothers.

Attends the Princess Fashion College that Carmen attends after the main story of NRC is over. She’s the reason Carmen knows it exists, and encourages her to enroll. Carmen clearly wanted to go, but declined because if she leaves, Grim has to go too. Miette ends up telling Headmistress Couture about Carmen and her designs, which is how Headmistress Couture later goes to NRC to bargain with Crowley about letting Grim stay in NRC while Carmen goes to the Fashion College.

Miette is a prideful, hard working gal who is passionate about her work. She holds herself with elegant poise and refined manners, putting in a lot of effort into the ladylike persona she’s made for herself. She’s a perfectionist who takes account of the smallest detail in everything, from her appearance to her works. Despite her regal attitude, she takes disrespect from no one and can be very straightforward and blunt if needed. She is not above kicking someone out of her Cafe for being to rude to her or her workers.

Her life motto is “Ladies do not start fights, but they CAN finish them.”

Secretly a huge romantic. Her dark secret is that she sometimes stays up late reading fanfic

Wants to dropkick Crowley to the curb SO BADLY

Designed and made the outfits for the Cafe. She’s the designer for the maid outfits the boys will wear as they work at her cafe.

Loves pink. Everything she has is pink

You know those aesthetic videos of girls having a 19 step morning/night routine where they use lots of creams and oils and stuff? She actually does those routines... Get rid of the green drinks and “healthy foods” though, Miette is drinking chocolate boba tea and eating strawberry shortcakes

Carries her thick planner everywhere. It isn’t uncommon to see her write in it

Loves strawberry pastries/desserts

Tends to be “fashionably late”

Rereads a Jane Austen book like once a week

Do not be fooled, she is actually super strong. She could break the spine of EVERY Savanaclaw student without breaking a sweat

[shiftingmegs]

☆☆ FAME DR ☆☆

One thing that i love to see from others Fame DRs is to see if their vibes match mine or if it looks like we could be friends (not that i script them in my DR because for me this type of thing needs permission and i can't send asks from this blog)

And i realized that i never shared what my vibe/aesthetic is so this is todays post.

(All images found on Pinterest)

The vibe is a mix from Old Money and Girl Next Door and a little bit of Holistic Wellness for extra flavor.

She is the girl who makes her own coffe with french press and uses Brown sugar in everything instead of the normal white one.

She is the girl who buys organic and dreams of having her own garden to plant and grow her fruits and vegetabes and maybe some chickens.

She is the girl baking from scratch and cuts a heart on her sourdough bread.

But she is also very creative.

She is the girl who gives hand made cards for valentine's day, mother's day, father's day, anything the has a card she is doing it.

She is the girl who prefers to Gift (and be gifted) experiences.

She is the girl who makes a gallery wall for her kids drawings

She is the girl whos everywhere: Galleries,museums, opera, thearte, concerts, music festivals, your friend's Birthday party, charity events, the Royal Weddings, walmart.

She is the girl who knows how to do flower crown.

She is the girl who always has a photo camera with her.

[kessyathena]

Kessy's Recommendations

A little while ago a friend who's into Little Witch Academia asked for recommendations and I immediately suggested Magic User's Club. It's one of my go to's and a great show, but it's pretty obscure these days. That got me to thinking about all the other great OVA's I've seen that everyone's forgotten. So here's a selection of my favorites from the golden age of OVA's (1980's -2000's). If you're looking for a thread that connects these, my personal tastes run to character driven stories. I've tried to emphasize titles that are easy to access, mostly ones that are free on Youtube.

Assemble Insert: 1989, 2 eps.

comedy, superhero, idol, mad scientist, police

The city is being overrun by a mad scientist and his mecha equipped gang, so what's the overworked underpaid police force to do? Obviously, hold a competition for the next big idol! Err, I mean superhero to save the city. Wait, is there a difference? Maron really wants to know, since she's the (un?)fortunate winner of the competition.

All Purpose Cultural Catgirl Nuku Nuku (Bannou Bunka Neko-Musume): 1992, 6 eps.

comedy, catgirl (sort of), android, superpower, evil corporation

Ryuunosuke just wanted a pet, so when the minions of his overbearing mother accidentally kill the stray kitten he'd picked up his father does the only sensible thing: transplant the cat's brain into the experimental android body he's got in the back seat of the car. Ryuunosuke's new "big sister" is cheerful, energetic, able to bend steel beams with her bare hands, and overly fond of fish and sunbeams.

Nuku Nuku got a TV reboot and a second unrelated OVA called Nuku Nuku Dash, but the original OVA is definitely the best version.

Dragon Half: 1993, 2 eps.

comedy, fantasy world, WTF am I watching?, dragon girl

Mink is the child of a dragon mother and a human father. (Don't think about it too much.) Her father was formerly the champion of the evil king, who still bears a grudge. So there are evil minions, a guy named Dick Saucer who can't decide if he's a singer or a swordsman, a princess who's half slime, the finger water squirter of DOOM, and Beethoven! Don't wait for it to make sense, just enjoy the ride.

Plastic Little: 1994, 1 ep.

action, scifi, space opera, fanservice, yuri subtext

Tita and her galant crew make a living in the pet shop trade, capturing exotic animals in their planet's ocean of clouds for export. One day Tita runs into a beautiful young woman being pursued by a group of uniformed goons. Impulsively deciding to help the stranger, Tita and her crew are drawn into a military conspiracy to wreak havoc on the colony. Naturally, there's a caped villain, high speed chases, battleships, and ridiculously unsafe walkways over a vast chasm.

Elf Princess Rane (Yousei Hime Ren): 1995, 2 eps.

comedy, WTF am I watching?, magic, yuri subtext, idiot protagonist

Well, there is a plot to this one, but describing it would take too long, make no sense, and miss the point. Rane is a frenetically paced, gag after gag wild romp into hilarity and the absurd. There are fairies from another dimension who only speak an unintelligible language, a scheming corporation, a large group of identical sisters, and a protagonist so obsessed with treasure hunting he sees it everywhere to the point of being oblivious to what's in front of his nose.

Magic User's Club (Mahoutsukai Tai!): 1996, 6 eps.

comedy, romance, school life, alien invaders, magic, unrequited love, yaoi

The Earth has been invaded by aliens! However, the aliens are content to sit in their giant spaceship while observing humanity with robotic probes. So when Sawanoguchi Sae joins her school's club of neophyte magic users and the club president declares that they're going to defeat the aliens with magic, she's nothing but enthusiastic. And a massive klutz. What hope do they have considering that the rest of the club consists of Sae's best friend who only joined for Sae's sake, a vice president whose main interest is his crush on the president, and a freshman who frequently skips club activities to go on dates?

There is also a very good 13 episode TV series which is a direct continuation of the OVA featuring the same cast and hijinks but with a change in tone, not the least because the aliens are gone.

Birdy the Mighty (Tetsuwan Birdy): 1996, 4 eps.

action, school life, undercover aliens, conspiracy, gender bender, body sharing

Tsutomu is your average school kid out for a stroll one evening when he runs into a man running for his life from… something. The man turns out to be an alien in disguise and the something, well let's just say it radically changes Tsutomu's life as he's drawn into a conspiracy involving interplanetary criminals. A Federation Officer named Birdy Cephon shows up, but due to reasons he winds up having to share his body with her.

The series got a TV reboot called Birdy the Mighty: Decode. In my opinion, the original OVA is better.

R.O.D: Read or Die: 2001, 3 eps.

action, superpowers, secret agent, yuri subtext

Yomiko Readman is your average substitute teacher… Okay, no she isn't. She's absolutely obsessed with reading: her home is filled with stacks of books. She also has the ability to manipulate paper in any way she wishes, turning ordinary stationary into shields, weapons, giant flying paper airplanes, and so on. And she has a side job as a secret agent. So when a group of superpowered villains threatens the world, agent "The Paper" swings into action. Immediately after one of the bad guys steals her book!

ROD also has a TV series that has the same setting but completely new characters and plotline. The connections to the original OVA only gradually become apparent.

Murder Princess: 2007, 6 eps.

action, fantasy world, action girl, body swap, yuri subtext, lost technology

Alita and Faris are from such different backgrounds that you'd never expect them to meet. Alita is the princess of the kingdom of Forland and has lived a sheltered life in the capital. Faris is from a tragic background and survives on her wits and her skill with a sword as a bounty hunter. However, one night there is a palace coup and Alita is forced to flee for her life into the dark and dangerous Ellend forest, where Faris is hunting monsters for the price on their heads. The two literally run into each other and straight off a cliff. During the fall, the shared near death experience causes them to switch bodies. They're forced to reluctantly team up to defeat the coup and uncover the forces behind it.

Electromagnetic Girlfriend (Denpa-teki na Kanojo): 2009, 2 eps.

drama, mystery, romance

(Note: "Denpa" literally means "electromagnetic wave," but is colloquially used to mean "crazy" in much the same sense as "tin foil hat.")

Juuzawa Juu is a high school delinquent. One day a girl he's never met comes up to him and declares that he is a reincarnated king and she is his servant and knight. Despite Juu's best efforts to get rid of her, she continually follows him around. As if this wasn't enough, there's a serial killer stalking the town, and Juu suddenly finds himself caught up in the case when he's the one to find the body of the latest victim: one of his own classmates.

[iwriteiguessandiloveit]

R+R Tumblr Collab-Prologue

Hey y'all! I know it's been a while, but i'm here with the prologue of Ray and I's Collab! Ray wrote all of this, so all the credit goes to her and her lovely writing skillz.

TW: slightly 🌶

Fandom-Phantom of the Opera

(& Beetlejuice, but that will come later)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prologue 

Rachel’s POV

Time: 2024

I speed-walk down the hallway, trying to look as innocent as possible in the crowd of students (who were all staring at me, highly concerned). I know we won’t be doing anything important in my social studies class, as we were just going to be reviewing our study guide. I was already acing that class, so it doesn’t matter if I skip…right?

I hear a shout echoing behind me to “SLOW DOWN!” I pull my hood up and I force my feet to walk slower (but just barely). I only had 30 seconds of passing time, and I needed to get to my spot before the Safe-Eds in the hallway noticed I’m late and forced me to get to class. 

29… 

I arrive at my locker just around the corner, shoving my backpack in and shutting the door behind me.

20… 

I slip around another corner as the last few students in the hallway move into their classrooms. 17…

I climb up the stairs, and I run into another person scrambling to get to class on time, and almost cause both of us to go tumbling down the steps. 

12…

I sneak past Ms. Meg, the worst Safe-Ed, scolding a student. I take this opportunity to slip past her and creep down the hallway, eyes glued to the bathroom sign.

5… 

And, with my last five seconds, I slip into the girls’ bathroom, and lock myself in the largest stall. Thank goodness it was open, because I was going to need it. As soon as I closed the stall door and locked the latch, the bell sounded out with a soft, “beep-bEep-BeEP-BEEEP!” I took a minute to catch my breath, and then slumped to the floor. 

I know what you’re thinking (or at least some of my fellow germaphobes may be thinking); Why would you sit flat on the floor of a public school bathroom?? Well, it really didn’t matter in this situation. I wasn’t going to be here long, anyway. As I knelt on the ground, leaning against the stall door, I pulled out a small note pad from my pocket and started flipping through furiously. 

I stopped, and went back a few pages when I saw a glimpse of the numbers “” peeking out in old ink. The page was slightly ripped, and filled with yellow-brown stains. I really don’t know how it got like that. Somehow I could still read what it said. I took a few breaths to clear my mind. I held out the notebook, opening my mouth to recite the words. 

“PARIS, FRANCE, 18—-” 

Someone opens the stupid door. And it creaks. Really loudly. 

This is my face right now: 😑

Now I’m forced to wait. I awkwardly listen as they enter a stall, do their business, NOT WASH THEIR HANDS, and leave. Disgusting. 

FINALLY I am left in peace. 

And as I recite the words on my page, my voice bouncing around against the echo-y walls of the bathroom, things around me start to change. 

The toilet, and the toilet roll holder begin to disintegrate. The papery ashes rise up into the air, and then vanish without a trace. I begin to feel a little dizzy, like the whole world is spinning around and around, with blurs of light everywhere. But I keep going. I read the whole page down to the bottom, then re-read it. The ground starts to fall from underneath me, also disintegrating into thin air. Through the increasing chaos, I can just barely see an old Victorian side table and a potted plant on top that replaced what used to be the toilet. A detailed painting hung where the toilet paper was, and underneath my feet appears a maroon and gold rug resting on a smooth wood floor.  My vision begins to falter. The light and ashes and mist swirl around me until I can’t even see anymore. My ears are filled with all sorts of sounds, from porcelain smashing on the floor to some of the highest music notes I’ve ever heard. A force pulls me back and I feel like I am falling through thin air.

Then, I black out. 

And I wake up. 

I almost knock my head on the side table as I open my eyes. Yes, I may have just blacked out, but I feel completely fine. It's just what happens when I do this. I flip over and sit on the ground, taking a long glance at my surroundings. Two twin-sized beds sit next to the table behind me, with ornate mahogany frames, and cream and mauve bedding. A dark wood cabinet towered over me on the wall, next to a large vanity. A lit candelabra sits on a table in the middle of the room, adding to the bright light shining through the open windows. A cool summer breeze flows through my hair as I stand up and lean out over the nearest window ledge. 

Far down below, horses pulled beautiful carriages down the wide streets, with people everywhere; going in and out of shops, storekeepers yelling down the street, and others going for their daily walks downtown. Trees lined the sidewalks and were already changing color. I turn my head up and gaze out at the skyline. Far out in the distance, the Eiffel tower looked beautiful. I can’t believe it was finished already. I begin to smile, but then stop abruptly when I realize everyone who may be looking up will see my clothes. Oh, crap. I keep forgetting about this. I stumble back into the room and open up the tall cabinet. I grab a few items and then run back to the screen room divider in the corner. I throw off my outside clothes and put on a white petticoat, tights, and a white bodice with short ruffle sleeves. I slip on a pair of short brown boots. I begin singing some random high notes in an operatic voice to warm up. I had a performance later tonight. 

But then, I hear a voice other than mine. 

“Rachele, is that you singing, darling? You’re back already?” 

A wide smile spreads across my face and I skip over to the large cabinet on the wall. I push it with all my might (without tipping it over) until it has moved far enough to slip my body through the hole in the wall behind. A cold chill surrounds me, pulling me into the darkness. I can almost hear a soft whisper encouraging me. It feels as if I am transported into a different world as I place my foot on the first step down, and pull the cabinet back into place behind me, as I descend into the void. 

The familiar glow of candlelight seeps into the stairwell as I get closer and closer to the bottom. My heart jumps and I can’t even wait anymore. I rush the rest of the way down, until I'm at the very last step. I slow myself down; I’ve gotta look like a lady in front of the hot Victorian men. I creep around the corner, hands holding each other in front of me, and as I begin to see his face my heart races. 

Erik. 

He’s standing there, tending to his small model of the opera house, wearing a sharp black suit, with his mahogany brown hair combed back; just one stubborn strand floating in front of his forehead, refusing to stay put. He has a jet black shawl and cape over his shoulders that just touches the floor, with golden embroidery along the bottom. He turns around as he hears me, the milky white mask on the right side of his face glinting in the candlelight glow. I can see the corner of his mouth perk up as I waltz further into his lair. 

“Ah, my love. You’re finally back. I am eager to hear you perform tonight.” Erik walks towards me with his arms out, and I run into him. I put my arms around his torso and his hand reaches for the back of my head. The other rests against the small of my back. I lean forward into his arms, as Erik tilts my head up to look at him. He’s at least 4 inches taller than me. I’m about 5’8. He smells like musk and candle smoke and I breathe it all in as I press the side of my head to his chest. I feel his gloved hand run through my hair and I pull away. “I’m sorry, Erik. I had important matters to attend to.”

“More important than seeing me?”

“Of course not…” And as I whisper my final word, I brush my fingers against his sharply carved cheekbone and step up onto my tip-toes to press my lips to his. 

Erik tilts his head and leans into the kiss. He pulls my waist closer and I shiver as his thumb grazes my jaw. He pulls away but keeps heavy eye contact with me. Erik begins to guide me backward until my legs hit the frame of his grand king-sized bed. He’s breathing heavily; his chest rising and falling. After I instinctively sit down at the edge, continuing to stare up at the masked man in front of me, I shift my body as smoothly as possible so that I’m sitting in the middle of the bed. Erik pushes me down lightly with his fingertips until my back hits the layers of blankets and my head, the pile of assorted pillows. I smirk as he climbs over top of me and straddles my waist. 

Oh yeah, remember what I said about the germs in the stall? Well, that doesn’t matter anymore. Because those germs don’t exist in any other universe. Let alone in 1870.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yayyy!

Stay tuned for Chapter 1, coming soon :DDD

-Rea ❤

-Ray ⭐