#<-- intended way of looking at it but it can just be like.

[wileys-russo]

in the blink of an eye (5) II a.putellas

series masterlist in the blink of an eye (5) II a.putellas

"-it happened again? usted no es serio?" you laughed in disbelief, the empty takeout cups of your coffees empty and long finished on the table in front of you.

"de nuevo. they must have a whatsapp!" alexia joked awkwardly as you grinned, the sight sending a very strange feeling through the blondes stomach which she rapidly pushed down and away.

"her new girlfriend leaving her for her ex girlfriend, different girls but twice now. we are sure she does not just find all of these chicas in the same bar?" you joked back as alexia chuckled, lips curling with amusement.

"sí sí, está maldita!" alexia shook her head, picking at the piece of banana cake she'd insisted the two of you split since it looked so good but you'd both been so busy talking you'd barely had a second to get a bite in, the icing now a little hard and crumbly.

"alexia you cannot call your own hermana cursed!" you laughed a little louder, throwing your head back and missing the soft smile which curved into the features of the girl across from you who covered it up by placing a forkful of cake into her mouth.

"por qué? she is!" the catalan insisted as you playfully rolled your eyes and sliced off your own mouthful of cake. "alba is unlucky, not cursed." you chuckled, covering your mouth with your hand as you pushed the fork past your lips causing alexia to snicker.

"qué?" you frowned once you'd swallowed and she wordlessly shook her head, small smile still playing on her face as you quirked an eyebrow. "no, tell me." you urged, twirling the fork between your fingers as your ex chuckled.

"you still do the eh, the mouth thing, when you eat." the girl gestured to her lips as you looked on confused, cutting off more cake and once again holding your hand over your mouth as you shoveled it inside.

"eso!" the blonde laughed as you did, pointing her finger at you accusingly as you realized just what she was referring to, feeling your cheeks heat up a little.

"i cannot help it, blame my mami for always telling me i looked ugly when i eat!" you rolled your eyes, alexia worried for a moment she'd offended you before your upper lip quivered as you tried not to smile.

"well you did like to talk with your mouth full." alexia teased as your eyes widened and she felt you kick her lightly under the table, mumbling that she was a dirty liar under your breath as the blonde grinned and snaked another bite of cake.

"cómo está ella?" the midfielder asked, tone softening just slightly but as hard as she may have tried you couldn't miss the ever so subtle hint of pity behind her question, and knowing exactly what it was about.

"ella está bien. she still grieves, cries, mourns, she thinks she hides it well but..." you trailed off with a sad smile, one which alexia mirrored as she hummed to show she was listening, giving you her full attention.

"i think having posie around is sometimes difficult for her even if she will never say so. mariposa is a reminder of natalia in ways that can be so beautiful, but also so hard." you mused honestly, not really having had anyone to talk to this about for some time now.

"she is also getting older, and that shows in her body more than she wants to accept. it is also why she is not able to take posie full time, she struggles to pick her up and hold her with the arthritis." you added on, realizing you were rambling a little more than you intended and stiffening, clearing your throat.

"lo siento, no quería seguir. cómo está eli?" you asked swiftly, alexia's eyebrows knitting together into a frown. "you do not need to be sorry. we got a coffee to catch up, no? that means actually talking about things." the girl reminded firmly but not unkindly as you nodded, flashing her a smile.

"it is nice, talking." you spat out honestly, the words leaving your mouth faster than you could take them back as surprised flickered across the blondes face but she was quick to mask it.

"sí, gracias por preguntarme." the older girl smiled sincerely, both of you mumbling a thank you to the waitress who collected your empty cups and plate, both of you praising how good they were.

"that cake was not as perfect as your mami's, but still it was good. i missed barcelona!" you sighed quickly diverting topics before an uncomfortable silence could build at all.

"i missed you." alexia spoke without thinking, her cheeks blushing pink as she realised her words and was quick to sit up a little straighter. "it missed you, barcelona, i am sure it missed you." she was fast to correct herself, both of you knowing that was not what she meant but alexia was grateful you chose to move on to save her any further embarassment.

and without her little slip up, the next question may not have tumbled out of your mouth quite so loosely.

"would you like to come over for dinner? to meet posie properly." you asked quickly, hesitating for a moment if you should retract the invitation, doubt swirling angrily through your head as you fiddled nervously with your fingers in your lap, hands well hidden beneath the table.

"i do not know if-" you didn't even let her fiinsh before humiliation and regret washed over you and you interrupted. "lo siento, eso fue una idea terrible." you apologised, stammering a little and alexia jolted as you stood clearly about to leave.

"oye oye! no no no, please sit." alexia stood as well, gesturing for you to sit down as you paused but none the less slowly lowered yourself back into your chair and she did the same.

"if you let me finish, i do not know if i can tonight. but i would like to, really, if you are okay with it?" alexia now hesitated, playing with the hem of her shorts as she awaited your reponse.

"sí, si está seguro." you echoed her question as you both exchanged a somewhat awkward smile. "sí, two friends having dinner." alexia confired with a curt nod.

"si, two friends who almost got married." you blurted out, hand smacking over your mouth once you had and cursing yourself over and over in your head.

"oh dios mío alexia, estoy-" you started, stopping abruptly when much to your surprise a belt of laughter left her mouth instead, the blonde locking eyes with you as your lip twitched and before either of you could help it the air was filled with your amusement.

"too soon?" you finally managed to get out once the pair of you had calmed yourselves, earning a few dirty looks from other cafe goers on the tables around you at both of your boisterous outbursts.

"sí, for some, not for us." alexia assured as you both exchanged a shy smile, looking away from one another and taking a beat. "so maybe uh, friday? for dinner." alexia asked, clearing her throat as you nodded.

"sí, friday."

~

"-pink tía?" posie questioned, balanced on her knees as your arm lay in front of her like a canvas, none of her coloring books peaking her interest today and to save yourself a tantrum you'd just given in and offered your arm up as an alternative.

"mm pink is nice nena." you mumbled tiredly, having only just gotten home from work and hardly sleeping last night since posie had been wriggling and kicking until eventually she seemed to find comfort draped across your head, the hot evening air not helping.

you tried hard not to let it happen, but without meaning to and with the rhythmic humming of your niece paired with the scratchings of the marker against your arm and you must have dozed off.

a sharp knock at the door jolted you back awak, sitting up so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash, wincing at the sharp bolt of pain which shot through your neck as you did.

"mierda!" you cursed when you realised you were alone now, the three year old who had once been curled into your side nowhere to be seen as a few more loud knocks echoed through your apartment.

"posie? dónde estás? mariposa? posie!" you shouted, rushing through the house and sighing in relief when you finally found her in the kitchen, but that relief dissapeared and the air sucked from your lungs as if you'd been kicked in the chest by a horse.

"mariposa baja eso ahora mismo!" you shouted, sprinting over and scooping up your niece who somehow had wound up with a steak knife in hand, one of the drawers pulled out and cutlery scattered all over the floor.

she hadn't thought she was doing anything wrong but your stern reaction had the girls eyes welling up in tears and before you knew it she was full on sobbing as you carefully pried the knife from her hands, setting it down on the counter.

"hey hey hey no bebita do not cry! i am not mad at you promesa promesa. i am not mad at you, i love you posie. you just scared me a little that's all! siento haberte gritado." you cooed softly, stepping over the cuterly spill and bouncing her gently up and down on your hip, feeling her tears create a small wet patch on your shoulder.

a glance back had you wincing, you thought you'd done a good enough job at baby proofing since you made all the changes ana required but clearly you needed to make a further effort if a three year old could get a knife in her possession so easily.

the guilt of it all washed over you like a shower would, your eyes squeezed shut for a moment to stop the tears which threatened to leak out, inhaling sharply and composing yourself.

how could you be expected to calm a wailing three year old if you couldn't even keep it together?

but right as posie's sobs started to melt down into wet sniffles, there came the knocking again and off she went, causing you to wince and your blood to run hot as you continued to mumble gently to her, rubbing your hand up and down her back.

right as you touched the door handle the knocking sounded again but thankfully this time posie just continued to sniffle and you cringed at how much snot and tears were crusting on the collar of your shirt.

as you yanked the door open and began to speak someone beat you to it with a click of their tongue. "so you are alive? you can tell your ex that you are back but not even call me after i-" mapi's words fell short as she took you in, disheveled, half asleep and with a sniffling toddler on your hip.

"not a good time maría." you replied curtly as the shock was still engrained in her features you weren't even sure if she'd heard what you said, too fixated on posie who was hiding herself in your neck as you protectively shifted so she was as out of sight as possible.

you were overwhelmed, overstimulated and quite frankly as much as you held no ill will toward the spaniard hers was one of the last faces you wanted to see right now.

"but-but who is-where did-" mapi began to stammer, eyebrows furrowed together with confusion as you sighed, utterly exhausted despite the fact it was barely past midday.

"lo siento, i will call you." you softened your tone slightly but before the tattooed defender could utter another syllable you were closing the door again, back thumping against it as you exhaled slowly and shakily.

"ven aquí nena, let us get cleaned up eh?"

~

once you'd gotten posie cleaned up, calmed down and settled in front of one of her cartoons you could breathe again, smiling at the way her eyes drooped despite the fight she'd put up that she wasn't tired.

you let out a chuckle and swooped in to grab the little container of cut up peaches out of her hand as you watched her eyes close and her grip loosen, setting it on the coffee table and smoothing her hair out, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead and tucking her bear under her arm.

you'd sat her on the counter and as calmly as possible explained knife safety best you could to a three year old, who adorably had explained she was trying to make you a snack after your nap, just like you did for her.

once again you had to stop yourself from crying knowing that wasn't what your niece needed, instead wrapping her in a tight hug and murmuring how much you loved her, unable to tell the tiny human just how much you needed her as well.

with posie down for her afternoon nap and still under your now hawk eyed supervision it allowed you to flutter about tidying, determined to make a better impression on your ex girlfriend than when she'd last visited your home.

you cursed under your breath as you finished and checked the time, two and a half hours somehow flying past as you needed to get posie up as well as start dinner so it was mostly done by the time alexia was set to arrive.

only you knew the girl well enough that for alexia early was on time, on time was late and late was unforgivable.

so you weren't caught off guard at a knock at the door sounding twenty minutes early, already having seen her car park ten minutes prior and checking in amusement every few minutes to see if she'd left it yet.

a quick check in on posie and you found her on the floor of her room playing with a few of her stuffed animals, another check confirming there wasn't anything she could swallow, choke on or hurt herself with before you ducked out and headed for the door.

"hola." you greeted the girl with a smile, not missing the obvious nervous tension in her shoulders as she repeated the greeting and you stepped aside to let her in.

"it is uh, cleaner, than last time." you chuckled a little awkwardly, closing the door after her as she looked around. "don't do that, people live here, of course it will looked lived in." alexia assured with a nod as you squeezed her arm appreciatively, stepping past her as she slipped off her shoes.

"oh! for you." she seemed to remember her hands weren't empty, holding up a bottle of wine, the label sparking memories that hadn't hurtled to the surface in years, a laugh of surprise leaving your lips.

"i know it is cheap but-" "but it is my favorite. i have not seen it in years!" you grinned happily, alexia seeming a little relaxed now as her lips curled upward, clearly content with your reaction.

"tía?"

and just like that any and all sense of calm alexia once felt was sucked away in an instant, the tiny brunette peeking out of the bedroom looking her up and down as you moved to stand beside her.

"remember i said one of my friends was coming over for dinner posie? well, this is alexia." you squatted down, nodding encouragingly to your niece who curled herself into your side.

"oye who is this shy chica? where is my posie mm? mi pequeño parlanchín." you teased, poking your fingers into her side as she giggled and alexia suddenly felt her knees go weak at the sight, clearing her throat lightly trying to pull herself out of it.

"tía i'm here!" your niece squealed, wriggling out of your hold as you grinned and poked her a few more times until she looked up at alexia again and shuffled closer to you.

alexia suddenly realizing she was a lot taller than a three year old immediately squatted down to seem a little less intimidating as you flashed her a soft smile, whispering something to your niece who nodded.

you stood again and offered her your hand, her tiny fingers wrapping around yours as you lead her over to where alexia was. "me llamo mariposa." the small girl spoke shyly before ducking to hide behind your leg as alexia glanced up at you and you nodded encouragingly.

"encantada de conocerte mariposa, me llamo alexia." the footballer introduced herself softly, holding out a hand as you had to stifle your laughter at the sheer size difference between hers and your nieces as posie slowly shook her hand.

"did you know the name mariposa means butterfly?" alexia smiled as posie seemed to perk up a little more, stepping out properly from behind you.

"sí! i have butterfly wings, from abuela." posie nodded eagerly as alexia gasped. "muy chulo." the blonde smiled as posie seemed to regain her confidence. "i show you after dinner?" posie offered as alexia instantly agreed and your smile grew even wider watching their interactions.

your niece letting go of your hand stepped forward now with a slight frown, alexia tensing up again as a tiny finger traced her cheeks. "mami and papi's video." the three year old spoke as you now frowned, squatting down and gently pulling her hand away from where her fingers continued to prod softly at alexia's face.

"bebita we already watched mami and papi's video this morning before you went to abuelas, remember?" you started gently, knowing the topic was an incredibly touchy one as the small girl shook her head.

"see you, in mami and papi's video!" posie pointed to alexia and looked to you expectantly, but before you could say a word she was taking off, racing away as tiny footsteps thumped through the house.

you took off after her and alexia was quick to follow, finding her in the living room with the remote in hand which she shoved at you, babbling away to press play on the video and ignoring anything you said in response.

alexia stumbled a little as posie tugged on the hem of her shorts, clearly trying to drag the much taller girl toward the couch as she sat down, posie climbing herself up to join her as with a sigh you gave in and clicked play.

you took a seat on posie's other side and for the first few minutes the three of you sat in a somewhat uncomfortable silence, though right as you were ready to attempt to put your foot down and turn it back off, it happened.

"mira! mira, mira, mira! alexia!" your niece stood to her feet, clinging onto alexia's shirt to steady herself as she pointed to the tv and sure enough, there she was, and a tidal wave of emotions overcame you and suddenly it was as if you could still remember the very day.

"estás muy guapa." the brunette hummed in your ear as you returned from the dance floor, settling yourself down on her lap as her arms tightly encircled your waist.

"muy muy muy preciosa, mi preciosa novia." your girlfriend showered you with compliments as you leaned back into her, your head craning backwards to rest on her shoulder.

"deberías ver a mi novia." you smiled teasingly, the older girl leaning down to press her lips sweetly against yours. "mmm, i hope she can fight?" the footballer whispered mid kiss as you laughed, hands finding her cheeks and deepening it slightly.

you were both pulled from your little love bubble at the sound of wolf whistles, your very drunk sister waving at you from the dancefloor as her newly elected husband caught her before she fell, sending you a knowing wink as he whisked her away.

"do you want to get some air?" you asked, pushing back up off of alexia who nodded, joining you as you stood, her fingers interlocking with yours as the pair of you made small talk with a few people on your way out.

you exhaled into the crisp night air, closing your eyes and soaking in the fact the pair of you were finally alone, ears ringing from the sheer contrast of how quiet it was out here compared to how loud the music was thumping inside.

"this could be us one day cari." you were consumed by the scent of your girlfriends perfume, turning at the sound of her voice and moving to wrap your arms around her torso.

"too drunk to walk?" you teased with a grin, your sister having been far from sober out of nerves nearly all day, quite the anxious bride from the moment she'd been proposed to.

"tal vez, we could be married mi amor." alexia was too tipsy to notice the way your body tensed up in her arms, playing it off with a laugh and hoping she would change topics.

"is that something you want?" no such luck.

"i have had too much tequila mi amor, i think i want to go back to our room soon." you looked up with a smile, reaching up to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear and not missing the odd look which flashed across the older girls face.

but before she could say another word the two of you were once again pulled from your little bubble at the sound of loud retching, letting go of one another and spinning around.

"oh dios mío....is that my mami?" you groaned in realization at the woman hunched over, throwing her guts up into the flower beds. "who is holding her hair?" you questioned with a frown, squinting to try and work it out but your girlfriend clocked it first.

"dios mío i think that is my mami!"

"tía? tía?" you crashed back down to the ground as a hand touched your cheek, blinking a few times and meeting your nieces little gaze which looked up at you.

"mira! alexia." she tugged on the sleeve of your shirt, pointing to the tv where again there was another clip of a much younger alexia spinning you around on the dancefloor, a quick glance to your right showing the girl in question watching the tv avidly with an unreadable look on her face.

thankfully it seemed someone somewhere had your best intentions in mind as the oven pinged signalling the timer was done and you breathed a sigh of relief you hadn't realized you'd been holding in.

"vamos! time to eat."

you stood with a soft tender smile on your face as you packed up the leftovers from dinner, posie twirling around the living room after she'd made you and alexia push the couch and coffee table out of the way.

she had her little butterfly wings on and you had to stop yourself from laughing aloud at alexia's own wings, which were two little blobs of purple and orange vaguely resembling tacos which posie had drawn and insisted be taped to alexia's back.

you'd tried to talk her out of it but much of your sister was in her daughter, especially natalia’s often hard headed stubborn tendencies as of course alexia assured it was fine and you'd given in, somewhat relieved you’d manage to avoid any sort of meltdown or tantrum.

it seemed posie was trying to teach her a dance of some sort and you had to hide a snicker into your hand as the footballer awkwardly tried to copy her movements, rigid and stiff and you'd always teased her that she danced with two left feet.

placing the last container in the fridge you had to interrupt, a glance at your phone showing it was nearing posie's bedtime and she still hadn't even had a bath yet.

"vale! beautiful dancing chicas, but i think it is time for a certain little butterfly to have her bath." you smiled as alexia exhaled in relief, dropping her arms from the position posie had insisted they be in, rolling her shoulders with a slight wince as you bit your lip to hide your smile.

"five more." you felt a small body hurtle into your leg nearly knocking you down as you chuckled and brushed her flyaways away from her forehead which was prickled with sweat from her dancing.

"no nena, bath and bed, or else you will be a grumpy butterfly tomorrow." you honked her nose gently as the three year old huffed, scowling and making a point to stomp her tiny feet all the way to her bedroom.

alexia jumped hearing the door slam and you chuckled with a shake of her head. "who says it is only teenagers who have attitude? mentirosa." you tutted as alexia's face softened, a snicker sounding from you as she tried to awkwardly crane her arms to pull off the paper wings.

"aquí, date la vuelta." you nodded for her to turn around as you carefully peeled off the paper, brushing a few loose pieces of fluff off of alexia's t-shirt and tapping her shoulders gently to signal you were done.

"tía! stuck again!" you heard posie holler out from her room, alexia now the one to chuckle as you explained your niece had a habit of somehow winding up tangled in her clothes when left to pull them off of her body herself.

"i should go..." you trailed off and nodded behind you with a small smile. "i should go too." alexia was swift to reply as you swallowed your disappointment at her words.

"or i stay? help with the uh dishes and to move things back?" she quickly offered, rubbing the back of her neck with a signature awkward smile. "oh no you do not need to help with those!" you assured as posie yelled out for you again.

"but if you want to stay, i will not be long?" "bien, but i am doing the dishes." "do i have a choice?" you began to walk backwards with a smile as alexia grinned and shook her head.

"tía ayuda! stuck!"

[beloveds-embrace]

Hello! Thank you for feeding us the angstier timeline of the dukedom au!! I live for angst

You don’t have to entertain this thought ofc, the angst and how good you write for my brain worms worming. I just can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if König wasn’t there and instead the duchess had to suffer all on her own

(Or better yet, if he was there but ended up also leaving the duchess for someone else or was killed protecting the duchess)

Reader having to endure everything on her own which eventually leads her to falling terribly ill and in the olden times we all know how a simple cold could turn into more and yield deadly results

The stress combined with the overall lack of appetite (and the food not cooked well at times to add to that… more angst (: ) as well as other factors rendered the reader terribly ill

Maybe she fell into a body of water and had to save herself, or maybe she was caught up in a rainy storm on a walk with no one offering her warm clothing or a cover up until she eventually managed to get back that leads to pneumonia

Maybe she gets injured but hides it until the blood loss gets to her and infection sets in

Just so many options and flavours of angst

Anyway, thank you for sharing your writing with us! Agin, you don’t have to engage with this, so please don’t feel pressured!! I’m just having many thoughts and am currently going feral /pos

WAITTT WAIT I LOVE THIS

Because imagine clinging to König, to your one singular source of comfort in a manor that has no room for you, and in the end, he leaves as well.

You had been telling yourself that you had been simply more imaginative lately; König was simply busy, he wasn’t growing more and more distant! The way he looks at you now compard to before hasn’t changed. At all. His responses were in hums and nods, noncommittal but that’s okay, sometimes you did not feel like speaking- like existing- either.

Until he stands in your office, the light from the windows reflecting off his armour. You had been happy to see him, a smile on your lips to be in the company of the only one who didn’t seem to despise you.

When he tells you that he will not be doing this anymore, it feels, for a very split second, like your heart shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. You can feel the shattering of each, single piece.

Better place. He says, pity in his eyes but no regret. He pauses for a second. I wish… the best for you.

König leaves you like that; staring after his back in abject horror. Every step he takes echoes in your ears, until you are left alone in your office, hands trembling, and your ears ringing.

After that day, everything practically crumbled. You crumbled.

Without him, the weight of your isolation became unbearable. The disdain of the household grew sharper once it became known your only solace was no longer there, the whispers more cutting. Meals came cold, uneaten. Sleep eluded you, and the constant stress gnawed away at your strength.

One fateful day, you went outside in a desperate bid to escape the suffocation. The air was crisp, the sky gray with the promise of rain, and yet you still did not turn back. You wandered farther than you intended, your steps aimless even as the first drops began to fall.

The storm came quickly afterwards, drenching you to the bone. Your thin cloak offered little protection, and the chill seeped deep into your skin. By the time you returned, trembling and soaked, no one was waiting to help you. No fire had been lit in your chambers; no warm blanket was offered, and no company was given.

The fever began that very night, burning through you with a strength that left you bedridden. Days passed in a haze of pain and delirium. The wound you had hidden- an injury from your fall in the storm- festered, the infection spreading rapidly through your weakened body. You hadn’t the strength to call for help, nor the faith that anyone would come even if you did hoarse out your voice in your attempts.

Only when your condition worsened and you really, truly disappeared out of view, the household finally took notice. Whispers swirled, faint echoes beyond the fog of your fading consciousness, and everyone became alert of your absence, meals returned untouched and maids reporting it’s weeks since they’d helped you with anything.

John sat in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey as the fire crackled in the hearth. He told himself your absence didn’t matter- that you were retreating because you’d finally realized the truth. But when he closed his eyes, he saw your face as it had been on your wedding day- hopeful, trusting, and unaware of the coldness that would greet you.

Simon found himself pacing the halls around your room more often than usual. He would glance toward your chambers but never step inside, convincing himself it wasn’t his concern. And yet, something about the silence unsettled him.

Johnny had begun to notice the meals sent to your chambers were left untouched, the plates returned barely touched or sometimes not taken at all. He hadn’t cared at first, dismissing it as you sulking because no one was giving you attention. But now the thought lingered- had you even been eating at all?

Even Kyle, with his sharp tongue and sharper gaze, felt the unease creeping in. He found himself hesitating when passing your door, his usual indifference cracking as guilt gnawed at him.

In the end, it’s Kyle who couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He stepped into your room, telling himself it was simply to prove to himself that you were fine and just- sulking.

The sight stopped him cold.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and the air heavy with the faint, sour scent of illness. You lay motionless on the bed, your body shockingly frail, your skin damp with fever. Your hair clung to your forehead, and your breathing was shallow, each breath rattling in your chest.

You didn’t even notice him. Not even when he turned around and barked sharply for John, for a doctor now. You didn’t notice him at all. Not him, not John or Simon or Johnny when they appear while the maids run to get the doctor.

(Kyle will never tell anyone how utterly sick he felt upon seeing the dried tear-tracks on your face. The unfinished, rotten meals near the bed. The tear spots on your pillows. He will never, ever forget today. He doubts any of the others will be able to do so, either.)

[jasvtsc]

clean mess

“come on, birdie. i promise i will behave. and on the bright side, we’ll save water and help the planet. isn’t that great? more… kittens will live,” that was the shittiest excuse possible. but did it work?

yeah. it did.

almost immediately, with a renewed vigor, you jumped out of bed and dragged dean to the bathroom as he grinned stupidly. if you weren’t holding his hand in a vice grip, he’d probably be rubbing his hands together as if he plotted something devious.

and to be honest, he kind of did. he promised to behave but did he ever do that? no. you naked with him under the shower? he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

as soon as you were standing bare in the middle of the bathroom, dean took a moment to marvel at your figure. he let his eyes stay on your curves a bit longer, humming appreciatively with a soft smile, although sparks of lust twinkled in his green eyes.

he quickly took his clothes off, and well, his cock was already standing up erected. he looked down and then slowly looked back up at you, giving you a sheepish smile and a small shrug.

“can you blame me? i’m a simple man. i see my angel in full glory, i’m ready to jump in action,” he grinned, while you just crossed your arms and raised a brow with a clear exasperation written all over your features.

“can’t you control it?”

“you make it insanely hard to control myself. pun intended,” he murmured, reducing the distance between you and connecting your lips in a passionate kiss.

that was enough to make you fold because in a blink of an eye, you were pressed against the glass shower wall, your legs wrapped around dean’s waist as he was vigorously pistoning in and out of you.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, holding you by your hips, so you wouldn’t fall down the wall or anything. “so tight.”

one of his hands snuck between your bodies and his thumb immediately landed on your clit, massaging it in a way that matched his frenzied thrusts. you cried out, trying to hold onto something but you found your hands slipping on the steam covered glass.

“after we’re done—” he panted, trying his best to hold back his impending orgasm since he wanted you to finish first. “can we do it again? but from the back? and with your wings on display?” you looked into his eyes and squinted your eyes. although, it was insanely difficult to keep a straight face while he was fucking you like he was in heat or something.

“dean, don’t push it.”

“pretty please? i’ve been good,” he whined so submissively and gave you those pleading puppy eyes of his that not only made you cum but also agree to his idea.

so a few minutes later, your hands were splayed on the glass, your wings opened as he buried his face between them, nipping at your shoulder blades while pounding into you from behind.

shit, it felt so good.

[pearlywritings]

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 3

pairings: Childe, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Wriothesley x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship (married/engaged/mated), secret relationship, immortal reader in Neuvi's part

word count: 6.1k+ words

a/n: part 1 and part 2 can be read here!

Childe

Spurred by the whistles and a whip of a coachman three fine white horses are trotting along the snow-covered road, dragging a big sleigh. Made of the sturdiest wood and painted in red and gold, the construction is effortlessly sliding on ice crust, almost lulling you under all those warm blankets and furs Ajax has thrown over your half-sitting half-lying bodies. You are glad to have this instead of jolting in a carriage (not like it’ll even be able to ride through all this snow), sure to have an aching arse even under the thick sheepskin coat, and instead of whatever machinery your lover could’ve gotten his hands onto due to his position - otherwise it wouldn’t have been so romantic.

Resting your head onto his shoulder you sigh blissfully, puffing out a small cloud of warm air. The fluffy-looking firs, tall pines and naked larches are flashing past in a magical gleam of snow-covered branches; you think you see two grayish squirrels chasing one another on a tree on your left.

“Oh, little minxes. A couple of seconds later and that snow could’ve ended up on our heads.”

You giggle at the young man’s comment, taking your gloved hand out of the sable muff and reaching to adjust the hat with earflaps (which he once again refused to tie under his chin) on his head. Before you can retrieve, a bigger hand clad in mitten wraps around yours and brings it to the chapped pale lips. As if spellbound you watch him press a tender kiss just where your ring finger joins the palm - right where the engagement ring is hidden under the thick material.

Now it’s hard to tell if your cheeks are rosy from cold or the swirling emotions.

“A little bit more and we will be in Morepesok,” he says softly, deep pools of his blue eyes staring back at you adoringly. “I can’t wait to share the news with ma, pa, sisters and brothers…”

You know he’s written them a letter right after you said ‘yes” to him, too excited to wait. So excited in fact, that he couldn’t sit still in expectation for the response, so he solicited an impromptu week-long vacation with the help of Pulcinella, and here you are, on your merry way to his home village.

“I can’t wait for that too,” you smile, leaning up to peck his nose, eliciting the same smile from him. “But I worry a little - will they be happy for us? I mean, that it’s me who you are going to marry?”

“Absolutely!” He nods enthusiastically and you have to readjust his hat again. “They all love you very much, I promise you. And if I am being completely honest, mom and Tonia did keep asking me when I intended to make you my wife during the last couple of times we visited.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was already planning a proposal at the time - didn’t want to spoil it by accidentally letting my tongue loose.”

It’s hard to believe that this man is one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers. Childe is surprisingly good at separating his work and off work behavior, turning into a completely normal, maybe just a tiny bit unhinged, young man as soon as his family is involved. You know he’s built this facade to keep them and you away from harm, but you also know it comes from the heart as well.

“Then I can only hope we can bring the female members of your family to the capital soon - I want them to participate in the wedding dress shopping.”

You are immediately gathered into a tight embrace and your laughter is smothered by the fur on his collar. Yes, he is the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia, Tsaritas’s soldier, Childe… But in moments like this he is just Ajax. Your Ajax.

His parents’ house meets you both with the quiet creak of the gates, the barking of two big fluffy malamutes outside, the clink of the horseshoe against the wood on top of the front door, the warmth of a well-heated inside and a bit taller than the last time you saw him Teucer, who runs full speed at his big brother, practically tackling him.

“Big brother is home, big brother is home!”

Ajax joyously laughs, somehow managing to take off his coat and dropping it to the colorful carpet at the front door before hoisting the exclaiming boy into his arms. Kicking off your felt boots to step from the anteroom, you watch with a smile as he squeals when your lover presses his cold cheek to the warm smaller one, squirming in the strong arms. 

Not a minute later more of his siblings appear, closely followed by their mom - freckled, with her ginger with gray hair tied in a thick braid and an apron thrown over her green dress, the woman smiles brightly and, letting her children surround their brother, walks to you with arms spread, ready to embrace you.

“Mother, my clothes might be cold,” you try to warn her, but she doesn’t listen, hugging you anyway.

“As if it can affect me! Oh, I’m so happy to see you, my dear. How was your trip? Are you tired, hungry? I’m almost done with lunch, and in the meantime I can ask my husband to throw in the firewood and heat the bathhouse for you two.

“It’s very kind of you,” you smile, wrapping your arms to give her a hug in return. “But I think we’ll wash up in the evening - I really doubt Ajax’s sibling will let him go in the following couple of hours.”

Before she can say anything, a tall, wide man appears from the other room. His beard and hair are gingerly brown with gray too, thick brows naturally furrowed. By the rosy cheeks, the remnants of snowflakes melting on his hair and the choice of clothing you guess he’s just returned to the house through the back door - probably after chopping wood.

Upon lowering his gaze to you, his facial features smooth out.

“If it isn’t my son and a dear soon-to-be daughter-in-law!” His gruff voice booms across the house, immediately redirecting everyone’s attention to you and making you blush. “I knew Ajax was too impatient and would rather come to visit and bring his fiance along than wait for a response letter.”

As he moves to greet you properly and help with discarding the outer clothes, you notice your gingerhead whispering something to his siblings, to which they giggle and throw glances at you. Catching the gaze of your lover, you lift an eyebrow, as if asking ‘should I be concerned?”. But he only shakes his head with a smile and ushers everyone to the dining room.

However, the curiosity is getting better of you, as throughout the evening you keep catching the glances, watch Tonia whispering something to her mom, and the woman giving Ajax a ‘really?’ kind of look, but with a fond smile, and then his dad slapping his back with a boisterous laugh, saying something along the lines ‘I was the same way with your mom too’.

So you confront him once you are left alone in the room.

“Hey, foxy, what’s going on?”

“Hm?” He lowers the blanket that he’s just tucked inside the duvet cover and reaches for the sheets. “What do you mean, bunny?”

“Whatever you’ve been doing,” you put one of the pillows down and reach out for the other as well as the pillowcase. 

“And what’s that ‘whatever’ I’ve been doing?” You don’t miss the sly smile finding its way onto his face. You huff.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The man hums, tucking the edges of the sheet between the mattress and the bed.

“Nothing you should worry about. I just asked them all to practice a little.”

“Practice?’ Cocking your head, you throw both pillows onto the bed. “Wait, did you start planning something for the wedding?”

“Not quite. Rather for after it.”

Confused, but intrigued, you step closer when your lover sits down and beckons you, being dragged into his lap a second later. Blue eyes look at you in an unspoken fascination, as he leans forward to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth, prompting you to loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Since we are getting married, I deduced that it would be only right for my family to call you my wife. Thus I asked them to get acquaintanced with the term, so they could start doing it as soon as we are pronounced husband and wife.”

You blink at him once, twice. After the third time you exhale, shaking your head, but the lift of your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by your fiance.

“I should’ve known you’d pull something like this, I am not even surprised, let alone mad. But they could just keep addressing me by my name. Plus your siblings already call me ‘big sister’ and your parents made me an honor of acknowledging me as the ‘daughter’. It won’t change much.”

“But it will!” He pouts and you can’t resist the urge to pinch his cheek. “You will be my wife and I want everyone to help me show it! Does it bother you though?”

Looking into those uncharacteristically begging eyes, you really can’t deny him his little antics. Not like you were going to in the first place.

“No, no, I don’t mind, love. Honestly, it's very sweet how excited you are. Makes me look forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Look at him, smiling like a satisfied cat, who's had too much sour cream for its own good. His embrace tightens on you a little.

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes as Ajax enjoys the many kisses you pepper to his face, squeezing his eyes shut, grinning, boyishly eager for more.

“Do you think I should ask the whole village to do the same?”

“Ajax, no.”

Nuevillette

“Mother, do you mind helping me a little? I can’t reach over there…

“I’d be delighted, my dear.”

Neuvillette watches with a fond look as you put the tea cup down and stand up to walk closer to Verenata and assist her with whatever the potion maker needs. Your figure is ethereal, clad in the finest fabrics, flowing with every step and gently dropping as you crouch gracefully to hoist the melusine in your arms. From above the rim of his silver goblet the Hydro Dragon can't tear his eyes from the way one of your many “daughters” wraps an arm around your neck and reaches up, while the corner of your lips, which he can see from his position at the table, is turned upwards.

“Mother is so kind and patient,” Laume says just a step away from Neuvillette’s chair. When the man turns his head to look at her, there is Flo standing too.

“Yes, and she is so beautiful,” the other melusine sighs, clasping her hands together. “And she always brings us such nice and comfortable clothes…”

“Monsieur Neuvillette married a wonderful woman,” a couple more melusines nearby agree and there is a warm and fuzzy feeling takes place in the Judex’s chest.

Marriage… Such a beautiful concept humans came up with to validate the union of two. It begins with the wedding - a day full of happy tears and blissful smiles, shared vows to be together in sickness and in health, sweet claims of love and promises of joyful life ahead. Then this very life begins and for beings like you and your husband it’s a long, but welcome trip.

You’ve been claimed by each other for quite some time before the more ‘mortal appropriate’ ritual, and the melusines - the wonderful creatures Neuvillette once took under his wing - were aware and happy for your relationship. And it was actually their idea to hold a wedding too, once Sigewinne naturally asked how the two of you planned to introduce your bond in civil words to humans.

And it was their initiative to start calling you “mother”. With your actions you quickly became one for them anyway, and the girls actively sought your company when it was possible. Thus, such tea parties at the Merusea Village as today are a common occurrence (besides, you always welcome them because it's a great opportunity to dig your husband out of the pile of responsibilities he tends to bury himself under).

However, lately Neuvillette started noticing that when he heard the word leave the girls’ mouths, a strange feeling began rising in his chest. Even though not quite familiar with the concept of jealousy, the Judex was sure it was not the case - he loved when the melusines called you that. So, he could not really put his finger on why the action caused such an indescribable reaction.

He decided to observe. On his walks throughout the city, the man seeked the sights of parents with children to attentively listen and watch while leisurely passing by or stopping at the shopping booths to linger on the scene. He was quick to note that the interactions were hardly different from the ones between you and the girls - kids would call for their mothers in all the same tones: when happy, when asking for help, when seeking comfort and many other typical occurrences he’d seen a handful of times before.

What really caught Neuvillette’s eye was the way the parents behaved. And soon his focus shifted to the married couples instead. As reserved as the nobles seemed to appear, the ones in love still managed to slip a murmured ‘my dear’, or ‘beloved’ or ‘my sweet [Name]’ in their speech. All the things the Hydro Dragon was all too used to call you too, relishing in the image of your loving smile and joyfully crinkling eyes as you responded in kind.

But it is like a waterfall pours on him when a week later, after that tea party where he once again sunk deep in thought, a keen pointy ear makes out a simple word in the crowd.

"Wife"

Male’s heart flutters. The understanding quickly dawns on him, even more so when his eyes find the couple on the other side of the road, - it was no simple term to introduce the partner to the third party. No, the tenderly spoken word was used by that man to address his lover, to softly draw her attention to him, to remind her he is happy she is holding such a position in his life…

At least that’s what kind of puzzle pieces together in Neuvillette’s head. The couple is long gone, yet he is still standing there, hand resting on the handle of his cane and eyes staring into space.

He starts to remember all the sweet names he called you, each and every one stored in his memory with the heart-warming images of your reactions. There are all kinds of those: my love, my pearl, lizzy (affectionate from ‘lizard’; you used to tell him that dragons are just big lizards and it kinda stuck), kisses-stealer, fairy-tail nymph… The man is surprisingly creative with his words when it comes to you.

Sure, he calls you his mate, quite often too, but to his chagrin it has never occurred to him that he could call you ‘his wife’ too! It’s so simple, so absurdly logical, yet it took him weeks to figure out.

Humans are truly fascinating.

When Neuvillette returns to his office in the Palais Mermonia you are already there, lazing on a sofa with a bunch of papers, in which your husband guesses the script of probably another upcoming play of Furina. And judging by the more than a half pages turned you’ve been waiting for him for a while.

When the door closes and the cane disappears in the myriad of sparkling bubbles, you lift your gaze, and a smile immediately lights up your lovely features.

”Neuvi,” You speak softly, getting on your feet and leaving the script behind, “I hoped we’d depart on the afternoon stroll together. So imagine my disappointment when Sedene told me you had left just ten minutes ago! Oh, I knew I’d be late if Lady Furina had kept me for another minute, yet I still hoped I’d be on time…”

As you are approaching him, the Judex remembers the melusine’s words upon arrival: “Mother waits inside”. This makes all his previous thoughts resurface, and when he meets you half-way and reaches for both your hands to place a kiss to the back of each, Neuvillette has half a mind to try out his new discovery.

“Our Archon enjoys your company a lot, and, knowing you, you are not really mad,” you roll your eyes playfully, tiptoeing to peck the tip of his nose, murmuring a quiet ‘hush, let me be a tiny bit indignant’. “And I’d be honored to keep you company for the evening stroll,” and then, after a little pause of hesitation, he adds, “wife.”

He watches as the previously present smile on your face grows even bigger, but after a couple of seconds starts to fade slowly, eyes squinting a little bit to stare at him in hardly-concealed curiosity.

“What was that?”

“What was what, dear wife?”

“This!” As if to emphasize your words you point your finger to his mouth, and it’s Neuvillette’s lips’ turn to curl in a small smile.

“It’s something I hoped to discuss with you,” his gloved fingertips soothingly brush over your knuckles and soon your hand is clasped into his, as the man leads you both back to the sofa. “You see,” he starts when you sit down, “I am fascinated with the notion hidden behind the word ‘mother’ the melusines like to call you. That’s who you are for them both in reality and in terms. I’ve made some observations, and figured that sometimes humans in marriage also use the…familial terms to address one another. It seemed lovely to me and I wanted to try it out with you. What do you think?”

You hum in thought, replaying in your head the way Neuvillette spoke to you twice. It is hard to explain, but you somehow immediately see the appeal and understand why your lover got hooked on it. Seems lovely indeed. You wonder, what if you…

“Will you tell me more about those observations on our evening stroll, husband? Ooh, it does sound wonderful!”

Mark him stunned, but for a moment Judex grows speechless. The violet depths of his eyes swirl with adoration as you clap your hands gleefully, and he knows, that from now on your everyday routine will never be the same

“With pleasure, wife.”

Pantalone

Dancing snowflakes are slowly descending in their tender waltz and are gleaming like the tiniest of gems in the streetlights’, enveloping the already magical winter capital of the Cryo region in a solemn atmosphere. The white cover of the ground is crunching with every step of a passerby and every wheel rotation of the fancy-looking carriages, while the street is a jumble of fur coats and heavy military overcoats, finally breathing life into the afternoon-quiet city.

It’s a wonderful evening, too marvelous to spend it at home, too enchanting to miss the new ballet at the Bolshoy Theater, the true accumulation of the Tsaritsa’ nation’s nobility and intelligentsia. The wonder of Snezhnayan architecture is both the place to rest and enjoy the purest form of art and home to many gossip circulating in society. Some fresh and just hours old, some ancient and undying, like the topic of the Ninth Harbinger’s lovers.

Lord Pantalone is well-known and often-praised for his contribution to the Snezhnaya’s economy, along with extending the Fatui influence all across the Teyvat. But also he is quite famous for the women he appears in public with. It’s always someone new, it’s never the same one as before. Different shapes, different hair, different style - it is impossible to guess the raven-haired man’s tastes. However everybody knew - the Harbinger never entertained the company of the ladies who made attempts to catch his attention. Those ladies themselves say as much.

The Regrator’s companions never open their mouths, never utter a word - at least not when there are people around. There has never been a single name, never a remembered face - all women wear the mask covering the upper half of it, concealing the identity of yet another lucky choice of the rich man. 

Never the same woman - always the same mask.

This evening does not disappoint the gathered crowd - lifting their gazes, directing attention to the Harbinger’s personal box, they once again see the notorious mask. The long fringe of wine-red hair is coquettishly framing the ever-lasting piece of leather, similarly flaming lips are tugged in a haughty smile - as if the young lady doesn’t realize that once the night is over, she’s going to be discarded like many others before her. The dress according to the latest fashion trends and the beautiful garnet necklace do not surprise the audience anymore - even known for his love for replacements, Lord Pantalone dresses his partners royally.

The man himself has chosen yet another black costume, with a dark burgundy shirt hidden underneath and bird-shaped garnet brooch on the left side of his chest. Multiple beautiful rings catch the light when he lifts his gloved hand to adjust diamond-shaped glasses, before turning his head and addressing something to his tonight’s escort. She boisterously laughs, saying something in response, but even if attendants tried to strain their ears, they wouldn’t hear anything so far away. Even harder it gets when the third ring of the bell echoes across the theater chamber and both the Harbinger and the woman are forgotten, until the performance is over.

So no one sees when the ring-decorated hand reaches for a smaller female one, fingers sliding under the chintz-covered palm, thumb immediately reaching to tug on the hem of the glove, so the thin cool lips could press against the small patch of bared skin. A glimpse of a smile is what Pantalone gets when you glance at him with amusement playing on your lips.

Always the same mask, never the same woman, huh? 

Pride has long slithered into your heart, yet it still lifts its snake-like head every time your act of decisiveness succeeds, happily hissing. Every time it’s a test of your skills, a gamble with the eyes of ones around you, and every time you hit the jackpot, leaving the people guessing, staying the only one in possession of the banker despite the speculations.

As long as Her Majesty Tsaritsa is aware of your existence and the place you occupy next to Pantalone, you are free to do anything you want with his reputation relationship-wise. And he allows it, because should you desire the whole world - he’ll throw it to your feet like the cheapest trinket. One would say it’s because he is prideful too - he knows it’s because he loves his wife.

Loves to the point of entertaining the masquerades she stages whenever the two of you need to appear in public. It plays wonderfully into his possessive nature and desire to keep his precious beautiful wife to himself and helps with the enemies - “changing the ladies” minimizes the chances of putting at risk his one and only. Not like many know of you in the first place.

It’s a win-win arrangement for you as well - there is still an opportunity to cling to his arm, to use his expensive cologne, to play with the rings on his fingers and sneakily make out in a dark corner where no one can see. To be tugged into his lap in the carriage on the way back to his mansion, to have his long fingers undo the strings of the mask, and once the piece of leather falls onto the floor, have the palms slide down the sides of your neck, swiftly fiddling with the heavy necklace, only to let it be, the caress the shoulders, pushing the sleeves down… 

…to leave them at the elbows and grab your arms to push your back into his chest as the warm lips press to the juncture between the neck and the shoulder.

And what if you’ve lost your name in the process of this disguising? Having been an actress a long time ago made you used to it. But isn’t it fun to come up with the new ideas for your next performance? Your husband gifts you way too many dresses and jewelry sets - you must find use to all of them! He now has to simply spend a bit more on the wigs and makeup to fit each combination of fabric and gems.

“Did my wife have a pleasant evening?” The velvet voice of the man behind you caresses the ear and you meet his gaze in the full-size mirror in front of you. Amethyst eyes sparkle in the bedroom light and you smile coquettishly, red lips stretching seductively.

“Did she? How could I know?” You tease, reaching to your back to undo the corset, just to be stopped by his hands, fingers digging into the dozens of strings. “And don’t you know, Mr Harbinger, that it’s very offending for the woman, when the man speaks about another lady in her presence?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware,” he muses, tugging a bit harsher on the ties and making you gasp, “that my dear wife can be jealous of herself.”

“When you know her poorly. Tsk-tsk, what a bad husband you are.”

Pantalone laughs behind you, shaking his head at your untrue words, and you reach to your head to remove the fiery wig. By the time Pantalone is done with your corset, you are done letting your naturally beautiful locks down, sighing in relief from both the released ribcage and hair roots.

The dress, having lost its vital support on your body, falls to the ground next to the wig and quickly becomes forgotten as you two step away from the mirror.

Your husband is still mostly clothed, having only eased out of his coat and unbuttoned the jacket, so you busy your hands with tugging the black article off and then reaching for the gleaming tiny buttons on the shirt. Your figures bask in the warm light of the room as you continue undressing the man - your eyes concentrated on the expensive fabrics, his - on the lovely expression of your face.

“But if you must know,” Pantalone raises his brow, when you look up at him, a much sincere and tender smile lighting up your visage, “your wife loved the evening very much.”

And that’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Fingers tangle in your hair, you harshly inhale, and his lips are on yours. Lipstick is smudging, your fingers accidentally catch the silver chain, and his glasses get slightly askew, but it doesn’t matter. His wife loved another thing he’s done for her. The banker’s day has ended in a great profit.

Wriothesley

Fortress of Meropide is a huge metal labyrinth of floors and corridors, where noise is never-ending even in the late hours of the night. The metal box which is the Duke’s office however, is constructed to mute the annoying sounds or else the one inside would have a very hard time concentrating.

Usually, even the ruckus happening outside and the clanking of the heavy machines underneath can’t sway Wriothesley’s attention if he has his mind set on doing the paperwork, even something as boring as bills. Today, however, the man has caught himself multiple times glancing at the clock he’s hung up a couple of years ago - there is no way to tell the time all the way down underwater, true, but it serves him a greater purpose. It helps him count hours and minutes before you arrive.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are the days when you take a half of the day off to come down to the Fortress to meet up with your husband. You both quickly realized that traveling back and forth together in either of the directions (fortress or home in the city) would be way too inconvenient. So, you improvise by visiting him throughout the week a couple of times and then he comes home to properly spend the weekend, having learnt to delegate his responsibilities to the most trustworthy guards. So far you’ve been extremely pleased with the arrangement, and the Fortress’s crew have learnt your face by heart to not cause you any obstacles in reaching your beloved’s office.

Today, nevertheless, something must’ve gone wrong. Pale blue eyes are practically drilling the minute hand of the previously mentioned clock, watching it moving further and further from the tiny 10-minute bar, which should’ve marked your appearance at the top of his stairs. And he gets it, everything could’ve happened, something as trivial as the queue at the pastry shop that might’ve gotten longer today, but when the delay surpasses the half-hour mark, the warden puts his fountain pen down and follows it by the creak of the chair legs on the metal floor.

As he descends down the stairs - each clunking under the heavy soles of his boots - a fleeting thought of you stopping by at the medical bay first is immediately brushed aside - his office is right on the path of entering the Fortress’s main body, and you love your husband too much to let him sulk in his longing. 

When he pushes the colossal doors open, eyes instantly start searching the area ahead of him. However, nothing unusual is spotted - two guards are standing at the front of his abode, not even flinching at the unpleasant scraping noise the metal makes; a couple of inmates are walking past them, bowing their heads right as they see the appearing the figure of their warden - Wriothesley simply nods and sends them off with a flicker of his hand; then there is Monglane’s desk with its irreplaceable owner. And no trace of his beloved wife.

Closing the doors behind him, Wriothesley comes up to the guards, inquiring if they’ve happened to see you. Getting a negative response, he hums and starts walking forward, to the corridor leading to the elevator, not bothering with asking the very same questions to Monglane.

With every passing minute, especially while waiting for the elevator, the man starts realizing how impatient he is growing, if the tapping of his foot and crossed arms are not an indicator enough. Even with just one day apart, he’s missed you so awfully much, your adoring smile, your soft voice and cute little giggles, that he feels rightfully robbed since you are not yet in his embrace, showering his face with kisses and then whining pretentiously because he’s forgotten to shave once again. Sometimes you swear he is not a big bad wolf, but a mean huge hedgehog.

He almost stomps inside the cabin the second its doors slide open and pushes the button to the reddening of his fingertip. It is a long trip up to the next level, and he admits he’s tugged on his leather straps wrapped around his arms a couple of times, but Archons, how little it all matters, when, exiting the elevator, he finally hears such a familiar voice. Your voice.

Your husband’s legs carry him like they obtained a mind of their own, following the full of amusement lilt he knows can belong only to you, just to come to a halt next to the wooden boxes piled up on the side of the path. 

He can see you, quite clearly, adorned in a cute pair of pants and a shirt, shoulders covered in a crocheted shawl - always ready for the cool air of the Fortress, yet looking so comfy, that Wriothesley can't help but desire to tackle you to the sofa in his office and cuddle this instant. And he would've done just that, if the conversation you've been having didn't catch his attention.

“No, it's wrong again. It's not Britney, it's Brytnneigh.

“But you are saying the same thing!"

"No, it is not B-r-i-t-n-e-y. It's B-r-y-t-n-n-e-i-g-h."

"Slower, please."

In the second voice the warden easily guesses a new guard that has just been employed a couple of days ago. He remembers signing the papers his weekend substitute brought him on Monday. Wriothesley also remembers how the man swore that he’d passed on to the newbie all the information and training he needed to know. But, it appears, he forgot to mention the most important thing…

“Did you make sure to write my name with two N’s?” Your voice is laced with hardly concealed mirth, and, though he can’t see the face of the guard talking to you, your husband is sure the poor young man looks quite miserable.

“Yes, mademoiselle, I did.”

“Wonderful, but it’s ‘madame’, I am a married woman after all. But no worries, I am flattered you think I look so young,” Wriothesley shakes his head with a silent chuckle. He adores you so much, but maybe it really is time to stop your little play of a new inmate, or else he’ll surely have to call for Sigewinne to check on the poor guard.

“And your last name, madame?”

“I am Brytnneigh Deirdrophnea de Troistêtesloup. Do you want me to spell it for you, dear?”

Yes, he really should stop you.

Before you can open your mouth again, you see in your peripheral vision a figure moving. Upon turning your head slightly, you are graced with the sight of your beloved husband, walking towards you with a quirked thick brow, and crossed arms. All you can do is sheepishly smile, waving at him.

“O-oh! Duke Wriothesley, Sir!” The guard behind the registration desk immediately jumps to his feet, squaring his shoulders and saluting at the arrival of his superior.

“At ease, young man,” Wriothesley nods, stepping even closer, practically invading your personal space, icy blue eyes looking at you unblinkingly. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing much, Mr Warden,” your eyes crinkle in the corners, a sight so infectious, that the man’s lips turn into a small smile. “Just a cute old me, ending up in the Fortress for Archon knows what time.”

“M-madame!” The guard exclaims rather loudly, that even your husband turns to look at him. “Even if it's not your first stay here, you shouldn’t be taking liberties with the Duke!”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Wriothesley raises his hand. “She is no longer your headache-”

“Hey!” You elbow his side to the bewilderment of the guard. In his shock he doesn’t even reach for his weapon.

“-I will personally escort this troublemaker inside. And cross out that abominable name out, would you? It’s not her name.”

“It’s not..?” Now Wriothesley really sympathizes with the guy, he looks utterly lost.

“It’s not. But,” a big scarred hand gently cups you under the chin and turns your head more properly towards the guard, “be sure to remember this adorable face very well for the next time. You’ll need that to let her in and out.”

“...out?”

“Yes, indeed. This woman is my wife.”

As the elevator doors slide close and the cabin starts moving down, you turn to Wriothesley and throw your arms around his wide frame, face burying into his chest.

“Are you proud of me for coming up with such a long and difficult name in a single thought?”

“Oh, for sure,” strong arms circle your waist and chapped lips press to the top of your head, “I bet you would be hard-to-catch if you were a criminal. But why did you decide to play such a prank on a poor man?”

“Well… I just wanted to see his face when he found out that I am the wife of the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself. Another reason is that there was no guard who knew my face and I doubt he would’ve believed my word. I just got creative with the way of making him summon someone else. You simply got here before anything could happen. Plus, it’s good to keep them on their toes with a job like that. Besides, I did apologize and praise him for his patience.”

At that Wriothesley just sighs and then chuckles, raising one of his hands and threading his fingers through your hair, pressing your head even closer to his chest. He is not even feeling iffy about the lost half an hour of your time together anymore. Because you gave him an opportunity to introduce you as his wife once again.

[fireinmoonshot]

your fiyero | fiyero tigelaar x reader

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader Summary: Ever since Fiyero Tigelaar started at Shiz University, he found himself fascinated by you – the one student who didn't care about him. When he notices you starting to struggle with something, he'll do anything to make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of fainting, falling over, academic stress/burn out Word Count: 2.2k A/N: I've seen Wicked (the show) three times now with the amazing Australian cast that's currently touring and I fell totally head over heels with Fiyero, and then yesterday I saw the movie and fell even more in love with Fiyero and so I had to write for him. I do intend to write more for him, especially if other people want to read more! He's so fun to write for and definitely a challenge compared to some other characters I've written for in the past. I hope you all enjoy! 💗

It’s not difficult to sense the presence of Fiyero Tigelaar behind you as you leave Doctor Dillamond’s classroom, shoving your books into the bag over your shoulder. With the way the students heading into the classroom are staring at someone behind you, it’s quite obvious who they’re staring at. Everyone at Shiz University wants Fiyero Tigelaar. 

Everyone, that is, except you.

“Classes are over, you know?” Fiyero’s voice comes from behind you as you round the corner, heading down the staircase leading to the courtyard. “You don’t have to rush off.”

Irritatingly, the fact that you can’t particularly care less about wanting Fiyero Tigelaar makes himwant you. He usually isn’t the type. If someone doesn’t like him – something he’s actually yet to experience – he would just let it slide. Why waste his energy? But ever since he’d started at Shiz and met you, he’d found himself unable to leave you alone. 

“I know,” you glance back at him over your shoulder. “But some of us actually want to study and spend their time here learning, Tigelaar.”

Fiyero hurries his steps a little so he’s walking alongside you. “Did you miss the part where I said it was my job to corrupt my fellow students when I started here? It’s never too late, darling.” He flashes a grin your way.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him, right at the same time you almost miss a step and stumble a little. Fiyero is quick, catching your elbow to help steady you. You don’t look at him as you steady yourself, meaning you miss the look of worry in his eyes.

“Are you all right?”

You clear your throat and shake off his grip. “Consider me corrupted by your presence.” 

With that, you make a beeline away from him and you’re glad to notice that he doesn’t attempt to follow you. You highly doubt that he’s going to follow you all the way to the library. Fiyero and the library have never exactly gone hand in hand. 

~~

The next time Fiyero bothers you, you’re sat on one of the benches by the gardens. There’s a book in your hands and he can see you staring intently at it as he saunters over to you. It’s almost like he’s approaching a wild bird or something, he thinks. If he moves too quickly, he’ll frighten you and scare you away. It’s the last thing Fiyero wants to do.

He’s a few steps away from you when you look up from your book and meet his eyes. His face breaks into a smile as he moves the last few steps and takes the spot beside you on the bench. You turn to look at him, your eyebrows raised. 

“Now, don’t say I’m interrupting your study,” he begins. “That book is most definitely not in the curriculum. And yes, I did actually take the time to look the curriculum up after I saw you reading here the other day, if you can believe it.”

For a few moments, you only stare at him. Fiyero, for the first time probably ever, finds himself actually a little uncomfortable at your unwavering gaze. It surprises him. He’s never the type of person to feel uncomfortable. He’s confident in almost every situation.

You let out a sigh. “It may not be in the curriculum, but you’ve interrupted me nevertheless, Tigelaar.”

“Apologies,” he says, with a small smirk. “Am I corrupting you even more with my presence?”

“Something like that.” You close your book and sit it on the small space of bench beside you. You had actually just been reading the same page over and over for the last twenty minutes and trying to convince yourself to stop overthinking things. 

You had so much studying to do, so much to learn and so many assignments to do and so little time to do it all. It was probably a little counterproductive to be sitting outside, reading a book and doing none of those things, but if you didn’t try and have a break from them all, you were pretty sure you were going to burn yourself out, which was the last thing you needed. It would have helped if you’d actually been able to relax and enjoy your book, though.

“Is it any good? Your book. Not that I’d read it, of course,” Fiyero grins.

You try your best to conceal your amusement. “I’d offer to lend it to you but, as you said, you wouldn’t actually read it so… I’ll keep it safe with me. I doubt the Winkie Prince knows how to properly take care of books if he can’t read them.”

Fiyero gasps jokingly. “I’ll have you know I can read, I just choose not to. I prefer to fill my brain with much more useless things. That way, I don’t have to think. It’s a peaceful way to live, my darling.” 

You shake your head, this time unable to keep a smile off of your face. Fiyero likes the sight of it. It strangely makes his heart beat a little faster. He can’t actually remember the last time he saw you smiling… not that he’s been keeping track. 

“How about you join me?” He offers. “No more studying for the rest of the day and no more thinking? I’m positive I could find something we could do to fill the time.” 

The reminder of studying, however, brings you back to reality after you small moment of joking with Fiyero. You reach down and grab your book before standing up and turning to face Fiyero, who is looking at you with slight concern in his eyes at your sudden movement.

“I can’t,” you say simply. “I’ve been reading all morning and there is a lot I have to do. I’ll see you around, Tigelaar.”

He watches you with furrowed eyebrows as you walk away from him, clutching your book to your chest and heading in the direction of the library. Fiyero shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. He really thought today would be the day he’d win you over.

~~

A week goes by without Fiyero even getting to utter a word to you. He sees you, though, fairly often around the school. In the courtyard, in the library (where he definitely didn’t go specifically looking for you), in history class and in the dining hall. But every time he’s thought to approach you, you’ve disappeared before he could even make his move. It’s on the seventh day when he notices that something is different about you.

You’re coming out of the library, carrying several books and what looks like a stack of papers in your hands when you trip. Fiyero isn’t quick enough to cross the courtyard and get to you in time to stop your fall. He does, however, take off at a run to be by your side as you start collecting all of the scattered pieces of paper and books that had fallen out of your grasp.

“It’s all right, Tigelaar. You don’t have to help me,” you mutter, trying to shove books into your already overfilled bag. “It’s a Friday night. I’m sure you’ve got other places to be.”

Fiyero, truthfully, does have other places to be. He’s been invited to the Ozdust Ballroom by nine separate people today. But how can he leave you to just clean all this up by yourself? He can see just by the look on your face that you’re utterly exhausted.

“I do,” he says honestly. “But I’ll help you with this first.”

He’s surprised when you suddenly stop putting things in your bag and when he looks up, he finds you staring at him again. It makes him uncomfortable in the same way he felt last week when you’d looked at him in a similar way. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Your lack of energy in fighting him is the second thing to make Fiyero realise something is wrong.

After the two of you finish picking up all of the things you’d dropped, the both of you stand. Fiyero opens his mouth to say something when he notices you start to sway. He’s quicker this time, moving to catch you before you fall. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you steady, while his other hand takes the book bag off your shoulder and moves it straight onto his. He’s surprised by how heavy it is. 

“Woah, darling, what’s going on?” Fiyero looks down at you as you blink and push yourself away from him. “Hey, be careful, okay? I think you were just about to faint.”

You shake your head. “I just stood up too fast, that’s all.” You know the words are a lie, and you can tell that Fiyero knows that as well. First, he’d seen you trip coming out of the library, then he’d caught you when you’d almost fainted… you can’t hide it from him. That much becomes crystal clear immediately.

“Let’s get you somewhere you can sit down, okay?” Fiyero begins. “May I?” He gestures to you, asking silently if he can wrap an arm around you to support you incase you fall over again. 

You nod and allow him to guide you just around the corner into the small seating area off to the side of the library. It’s dark, the lanterns not being lit yet despite the fact that the sun had gone down over twenty minutes ago.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy,” you say sheepishly. “That’s twice you’ve stopped me from falling in the last two weeks… I suppose I should say thank you, Fiyero.”

Fiyero sits you down gently on the bench and sits your book bag down on the ground. He crouches down in front of you and reaches up to take your hands in his. He’s surprised when you don’t immediately pull away from him. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me by my first name before.”

“Oh,” you think on it for a second, trying to ignore the warm feeling of his hands and how comforting it is. “I guess I haven’t. Sorry, Tigelaar.”

“No, no,” Fiyero shakes his head. “Don’t go back to that. I like when you call me Fiyero.”

“Well, I suppose it is your name,” you offer a small smile.

“There’s that gorgeous smile,” Fiyero smiles back at you and squeezes your hands. “Now, are you gonna tell me why you almost just fainted on me and why you’re clumsier than you usually are, darling?”

You stay silent for a few moments and just when Fiyero begins to think that you might just brush him off and try to make a quick exit like you did last week, you start to speak.

“I haven’t really been sleeping well lately,” you admit quietly. “I’ve had so much work to do, I fell behind on my assignments and I took on some extra work from Doctor Dillamond and… despite my best efforts, I guess I let myself get a little burnt out.”

Fiyero looks at you with his eyes full of pity and you hate it. 

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “that’s not important. Why would you care?”

Your attempt to make light of the situation fails spectacularly, judging by the look that Fiyero gives you afterwards. You’ve never seen him look that unimpressed before. 

“Of course I care,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why, though?” You can’t help but ask. “Why are you so fixated on me?”

Fiyero sighs and moves to sit beside you, letting go of your hands in the process. “If you’ll allow me to be honest with you for a moment,” he starts, “I suppose… you’re the only person at Shiz that doesn’t treat me like the perfect Winkie Prince that everyone thinks I am. You’re the only person that doesn’t think I’m perfect, and half the time you act like you can’t stand to be around me, and for some reason that only makes me want to be around you more.” 

“Are you not the perfect Winkie Prince?” You ask.

Fiyero grins. “Oh, not in the slightest, darling. But let’s keep that between us. I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. How does that sound?” 

You don’t even try to hide the smile that comes to your face at his words. “You promise you won’t tell anyone about what happened today?”

“I promise,” he nods. “But only on one condition: you tell Doctor Dillamond you can’t complete the extra work you signed up for and you take a break to make sure you get plenty of rest before diving into your other assignments. I’m sure I can sweet talk some of the Professors if you need help.” 

He smiles as you hit him with the same look as before, but for the first time, he doesn’t find himself feeling uncomfortable at the sight of it. Now, he finds it slightly amusing and incredibly endearing. He has always found you endearing, he supposes.

“Sweet talking my Professors will not be necessary,” you chuckle. “But okay. It’s a deal. And I’ll keep your secret too. You can continue to be the perfect Winkie Prince to everyone… except me.”

Fiyero laughs. “I’ll just be your Fiyero, then.”

“My Fiyero?” You repeat after him, eyebrows raised. 

He ignores the way his heart beats faster at the sound of those words coming out of your mouth. 

“Yes, your Fiyero,” he hums. 

“Everyone will think that you finally corrupted me after all this time,” you joke, voice teasing. “I’ll just be like everyone else at Shiz. Part of the Fiyero Tigelaar fan club.”

Fiyero fixes you with a look. “Oh, darling. You could never be like everyone else.” 

[transfatliberation]

that’s the big thing, enshittification. Get annoyed at the big tech companies’ products’ shittiness often enough and you’ll resent the companies. This was previously a very politically-charged issue mainly because most conservatives tended to be older and more tech illiterate, but in the past 10 years literally every tech product has gotten worse — and not just worse, actively seems to want to make the user experience as frustrating as possible, or at least has no qualms about doing so for the bottom line. Where previously the most common gripes with technology and computers were things like “It seems way too complicated to do Thing X or Y” and you could simply… learn how to do so, now the problems are things like “My Smart TV’s youtube app crashed 2 minutes into the 3 minutes of ads 2 minutes into this video I wanted to see, and now after booting the app and trying to get back to it, it restarted the ad timer from the top and wants to force me to watch 3 more minutes of ads, including one asking me to pay money to not have all these ads.”

like yes it’s still somewhat avoidable by things like adblock on pc, but that’s not the point, the point is, that’s the intended end user experience now, rather than only the experience of people who don’t know what the save icon is and how to open a pdf. To avoid shittiness in tech, you no longer need to be proficient at it - you need to actively be good enough at it to try to bypass or break down the shittiness.

So much of tech culture has changed from “look at these amazing things you can do” to “look how much money we can squeeze out of people if we annoy them enough,” with one of the only big “advancements,” AI (with the word advancements being used EXTREMELY charitably, because it’s believed to be by the general populace) actually really sucking the more you look into it. From the art theft, to the incorrect information given by ChatGPT, to the huge environmental impact, to it being made unavoidable in so many tech products, pick your poison.

People used to dream of a world with extremely advanced technology, where anything was possible. Take the average person from 2010 and offer them a superpowered brain implant that could connect to their tech and they’d think it was the coolest thing ever. Now they’d be worried about it being a buggy, crashing mess that serves ads in their dreams.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Cold Jealousy

I am back once again with more Silco brain rot. Feeding all of you who need the content as well as myself.

Summary: Who knew jealousy was all it took for to have your first kiss with Silco?

He hates the coiling in his stomach that arises whenever you laugh at something a patron says. It sickens him, seeing you lean in so close to another man, your lips moving as you say something and then smile, causing the table to burst into laughter. He knows you're simply close friends with them, after all they are your childhood friends, people who grew up with you, so of course you'd act overly familiar with them but he can't stop his chest from tightening, his fingers twitching.

The nib of his pen pierces through the page he was writing on and he scowls angrily at the mess, trying to drown out your voice but it's intoxicating, a melody that snatches his attention away from the numbers in his notebook. Your laughter is like a drug, leaving him wanting more every time he hears it, and the thought that it's someone else eliciting it drives him insane.

"You alright there?" Vander slides him a glass of scotch, worry clear gentle grey eyes.

"I'm fine," Silco spits back, a little harsher than intended. Of course Vander would notice something was off, Vander knew him way too well. He turns back to his notebook, trying to suppress the whispers that begin to cloud his mind and stares at the numbers, willing them into his brain.

"You know they only have eyes for you right? They don't look at anyone the same way they look at you." Vander glances over at the table where you're currently playing a game of cards, and from the looks of it, losing.

"I know," Silco scowls, stabbing the page with his pen. Vander simply huffs and turns to attend to the customer who just pulled up at the counter. Silco rolls his eyes and closes the notebook, he's done for the night. There's no way he can continue concentrating when you laugh like that, when butterflies flutter in his chest and turn to stone as he remembers you're not laughing at something he said or did.

"I'm going to get some air," he grunts, slipping out the back door.

Out of habit, he makes his way to the rooftop, sitting at his usual spot and looks out at the sprawling underground city beneath. Neon lights flash from various stores like stars, illuminating figures as people walk past but the silhouettes disappear just as quickly, fading back into obscurity. It's the same pattern every night, he's memorised some of the figures already, knows the habits of certain individuals, and has noted the important ones. He spots the lady with twin brown hair buns who frequents the brothel opposite, the two enforcers who always sneak into the nearby drug store during their nightly patrol and nearly misses the sound of your footsteps.

"Hey." You take your seat next to him.

"Y/N." He barely spares you a glance before looking back at the city below. The night wind whistles through the air, sending shivers through his body and he curls up, hugging his knees to his chest. Dammit, he forgot his coat. The air here is chillier at this time of the year, being so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city's nightlife, but it brings a sense of peace that he treasures, especially when it's with you. Tonight, it just feels cold, probably from his lack of a coat, but there's a numbness he can't explain.

The clink of glass snaps him out of his thoughts and he glances up to see you produce a bottle of wine as well as two glasses.

"Sorry, I couldn't swipe a bottle of scotch so I grabbed the next best thing before anyone could catch me," you smile at him and pop the bottle open. The red liquid sloshes in the glass as you fill it up and hand it to him, "peace offering?"

He wrinkles his nose but takes the glass anyways, mumbling a thank you before letting the liquid slide down his throat. It doesn't have the same burn as scotch does, but there's still a pool of warmth that sits in his belly, although it does little to alleviate the chill he feels.

You smile and pour a glass for yourself, taking a sip, following the direction of his eyes. Silco swirls the red liquid around in his glass, biting his lip. The silence is awkward, but he won't be the first to break it, his pride won't let him. Fortunately, you shift closer to him and shrug your jacket off, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Don't catch a cold on me."

He snorts in response, tugging your jacket tighter around himself. It smells nice, smells like you with a hint of his cigar's smoke. He can pick out the scent of wine, the smell of the soap you use to wash the jacket, the remnants of Piltover's smell from your afternoon stint and a small smile makes its way onto his face as he remembers the way you threw yourself at him, clutching a bag of freshly baked bread, laughing as you yelled at him to run for his life. The pool of warmth resting in his belly spreads to the rest of his body, sending tingles up his spine as he buries his face into the jacket's fabric. The fabric is worn but still maintains a certain level of softness, and it feels as nice as it smells.

He watches as you finish your glass and exchange it for the bottle, remembering his own unfinished glass and takes another sip. Scotch was still the best drink, a shame you didn't manage to filch a bottle of it. You down half the bottle in one go, sighing in satisfaction and gesture at his glass.

"You don't have to force yourself to finish it, you know?"

He scowls, and finishes the rest of his wine, all the while staring right at you. "As if I'll let you have any of mine."

You laugh, and he finds that your laughter sounds better when it's because of something he said than when it's because of something someone else said, besides, there's the added bonus of giddiness that fills him. He smiles, for the first time tonight and sets the glass down next to yours. The awkwardness has been broken, much to his relief and he feels as though he can breathe easier.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You gesture towards the myriad of lights. "Piltover's lights can't compare to this."

"That's because most of their lights are the same colour," he snorts, "but yes…it is beautiful."

You beam, taking another swig from the bottle and set the bottle down, leaning back on your hands. The night breeze ruffles through your hair, playing with its strands and Silco watches as a couple of strands fall between your eyes, causing you to huff and puff at it until it falls off your face. The next gust of wind is stronger and you shiver, shifting closer to him. He shakes his head and throws the left half of your jacket over your shoulders so it covers the both of you.

"Don't you catch a cold on me either."

"Thank you for sharing my jacket." You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. He nudges you back, the back and forth going on for a while until the jacket slips off your shoulder and he leans over to pull it back on. Electricity crackles from where his skin brushes against yours and he feels his heart leap into his throat when he looks up at you, realising how close the two of you are.

Sure, the both of you know how the other feels, knows the unspoken truth but continue to dance around each other, fearful of what acknowledging the feeling would bring, but tonight just feels right. He feels your hand intertwine with his and he leans in, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. You lean in as well and your lips meet for the first time.

The feeling is addicting, Silco quickly learns. The way your lips lock with his perfectly, the way you lean in as his fingers run through your hair, the way your free arm wraps around his waist, pulling him closer, all of this makes him wish this moment will never end. Unfortunately, the both of you need to breathe and so he reluctantly parts from you, pressing his forehead against yours. It feels natural, to feel your warmth, to hold you underneath your jacket, and from the way you're looking at him with such adoration in your eyes, you feel the same way.

It doesn't need to be said, nothing needs to be said, the only thing he needs to do is close the gap once more and taste the wine on your lips, savouring the sweetness of it all. This is the one time he will admit that wine tastes good, but he still prefers scotch.

Your hand gently cups his cheek and he finds himself leaning into the touch. Your thumb runs over his skin, brushing along his cheekbone and he sighs, surrendering to your warmth. A small smile graces your lips and he can't help but smile back, although his smile is rather lazy.

"We should head back before Vander has to come and haul us away," you murmur and Silco reluctantly extracts himself from your touch.

"And before he closes the bar up so that we don't have to wash the glasses." He picks said glasses up, nudging the empty bottle towards you. "You are still going to throw the bottle away, I'm not touching that."

"Why? You were so eager to touch my saliva just moments ago," you tease, mirth decorating your features.

"I'm not about to deny you your responsibilities." He ducks out of the way as you try to shove the empty bottle into his arms, quickly making his way back into the bar before you can succeed in making your problem his. He hears your annoyed shouts behind him and laughs, sliding into the bar's counter.

Vander raises an eyebrow as Silco places the glasses in the sink and darts off, then shakes his head as you come barreling in, demanding that Silco help you as payment for the wine he drank. He grabs the both of you by your collars and drops you both at the sink. "I believe washing everything in the sink will suffice as payment for the bottle of wine."

You groan when you see the amount of empty cups in the sink and Silco laughs, turning on the water tap. At least you're trapped in this with him, the washing should go by faster.

As the both of you hunch over the sink, you give him a little nudge with your elbow. "Next time, if you're jealous, just step in. I'll leave with you, I promise."

"Jealous?" He splutters. "I wasn't jealous!"

"Sure you weren't, Mr 'angrily stabs an innocent piece of paper with his pen'. Keep trying."

He huffs, turning his attention back to the glass he's currently wiping dry. "I wasn't jealous."

"Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that. I doubt that changes facts though."

"Nobody said that was a fact."

You lightly punch him in the shoulder with your damp fist and he mock glares at you, smacking your arm with the drying cloth but can't stop the smile that's forming on his face.

"Don't ever doubt yourself," you say softly. "You mean everything to me."

And you mean everything to me too.

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @silverslutsposts

Request: Sooo I'm thinking possessive demon.. submissive fem reader.... but the demon is confused why he feels these unknown emotions for reader (love obvi 🤪) the smuttier the better imo Maybe he tries to do some hate fucking with reader to rid himself of the odd fluffy feelings? But it doesn't work 🤭🫠 I'd like to think reader is a plump, thicccc thing with a love for Monster romances

A/N: Hi there! This turned out to be a lot more love-love than hate-love for some reason, hope you like it, tho!

Bring it

Demon x chubby fem!reader || dom/sub, dirty talk, praise kink, tail play, impact play (light)

You starting hanging out with demons was almost a surprise.

You worked at the monster bar as a bartender, so it made sense you started to know some of the clientele that was there every other day. Some of them were really friendly, and some of them were jackasses. Especially the demons.

The demons were usually stupid as fuck to everyone… everyone but you. You didn’t know why, but the demons treated you so nicely you became their waitress even thought it wasn’t your job. But none of the other’s would take their orders because they were mean, and after watching the third person crying because of it, you had enough. You marched to their table and called them out, which made them laugh, but somehow, you became their favorite human.

Later, you would discover it was because of the leader, the big red demon that always stared at you across the bar as you talked with everyone. His eyes never left you as you moved around, and it felt nice… You felt seen and desired in a way that should have been creepy, but it wasn’t. So little by little you became friends with them, and developed some kind of tension with the big red leader that had you pressing your thighs together more than once. He was hot as hell (pun intended) and you were a bit thirsty for demon cock. But who could blame you? But apparently he didn’t feel the same. (Or so you thought.)

The bar is closing and you are cleaning the tables absently as he talks about something. Everyone already left, but he insisted on hanging around to accompany you home, which you find as charming as his smile full of pointy teeth.

You turn around to look at him, nodding along and laughing at him when you see his scrunched up nose and the look of disgust when you pick up a half eaten sandwich. He stares at your mouth, and then he quiets down and glares, not saying anything.

You stop laughing, worried you offended him in some way. “What?” You ask, confused by the sudden tension in the air.

“Why do I feel like this?” He asks you, rubbing his chest as if it’s your fault he has some kind of ache.

You are even more confused after his response. “Like what?”

“Like my insides are going to be ripped apart if I don’t get closer to you soon,” he explains, making your heart skip a beat. You know he realizes it skips a beat, because his eyes fixate on your chest when he keeps talking: “Like every breath I take is thanks to you. Like every twitch of my body is a response of you being alive,” his words make your heart beat skyrocket. There’s no way he means what you think he means. But then he breaks the bubble of blooming happiness. “It’s infuriating, I need to get it out of my system. Now.”

“Wha- what does that mean?” You question as he approaches you fast, like you are his prey about to be devoured. You can feel your pussy tingling with that idea.

You walk backwards as he takes step after step getting closer to you. When the back of your thighs hits the edge of a table, you know you can’t run anymore. His eyes are burning with something unknown and you can feel your juices soaking through your panties.

You round the table, getting away from him just in time. “Come here,” he orders, an edge of danger in his voice. You shake your head, playing with him. “Come here little morsel, you wouldn’t like what would happen if I have to go to you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” you tell him trusting totally on your words. He would never.

And you are enjoying way too much driving him a little bit insane, giving him one taste of the way you’ve felt since you started to know him, since you realized he might be a demon but he was the best monster you’ve ever known. You aren’t ready to use the L word, but maybe… maybe you already felt it.

He sighs, and agrees. “I wouldn’t. But pain is not the only way to make you submit to me,” he teases. You whine low in your throat, making him stop in his tracks as he stares at you like you just grew a second head.

“Bring it.” You smirk at him, your brain going a thousand miles per minute was your brain pictures all the monster romance stories you’ve read over the years. You are so ready to be devoured by a demon… so, so ready.

Suddenly, he’s moving faster than your eyes can process. He grabs you by the hair, your neck pulled back almost uncomfortably as he launches to suck a mark on your neck. You squirm against him, your hands grabbing his hair with equal force as you whimper. He’s biting and licking the soft spot under your ear that makes you see stars and your knees start to feel like jelly. Fuck. He drives you crazy.

“Are you going to be good for me, honey?” He whispers against your ear, his tail wrapping around your middle and making you shiver. His hands are everywhere, your body is pliant under his traveling fingers as you whine at him, unable to form words to answer. “Of course you are, you are so good to me,” he purrs and you blush. You don’t know why, but hearing his praises is doing it for you big time.

He grabs your ass with both hands and sits you over a table, squeezing your soft hips as he does so. He’s groping you everywhere he can and it’s driving you slowly insane. You’ve never felt arousal like that, it’s like burning inside of you and you know he’s the only one who can put out that fire.

“I need you, please,” you beg.

“You beg so beautifully, such a good human for me.” His words are making your head fuzzy, the desire so high you can only think about his dick inside of you. ASAP.

He rips your clothes off your body, leaving you naked in the middle of the bar. That shouldn’t make you as hot as it does, but you are desperate for him. His hands are frantically touching every centimeter exposed until you are screaming his name and begging for him to keep going, to touch you where you want him most, but he does nothing like that.

He opens your legs wide and stares at your pussy. You try to close your legs, embarrassed, but he only chuckles, his tail coming around him and landing a slap against your open center. You scream his name again, this time full of fire and pent up sexual frustration. He laughs and does it again. And again. And again. You’ve never been so turned on.

“Are you going to take my tail like a good human fleshlight?” You whine. “Is that a yes, my little morsel?” He teases and you groan, unable to form words. “I will let you act like this just once because it’s our first time. But next time I’ll make you say it out loud, are we clear?” You nod vehemently, making grabby hands at him and making him laugh.

You feel the tip of his pointy tail at the same time you feel a gush of juices coming out of you. You are almost embarrassed of the sounds your pussy makes when he starts to enter you slowly. You are so wet you can feel it traveling down your ass, forming a pool under you as he fucks you shallowly. His tail is entering you enough to touch your G-spot but not enough to stimulate it. You don’t know who you are anymore, you can only focus on that pointy appendage playing with your aching core.

“Please, please, please…” You chant as he chuckles, his face buried in your neck as he kisses your throat softly.

“What do you need? Do you want my cock?” You nod, grabbing his hair and pulling him back so he’s looking at your eyes. His pupils are blown wide and he’s mirroring your desperation. “Okay, I’ve tortured you enough… for now.”

The last words send a shiver running down your spine and you moan his name softly, making him smile at you openly, his fangs on full display. He’s so fucking handsome you can’t control yourself from moving your hips and fucking you against his tail still in you. He pulls back his tail and you cry out, begging over and over for more, and he gives it to you.

You feel the tip of his cock against your entrance, your pussy quivering at the first intrusion. He’s so big and wide you can barely fit him inside, but when he passes the first tight muscle you both groan in unison. You wrap your legs around his middle and press your heels on his ass, urging him to go deeper, faster, harder. And he complies, his whole body surrendering to the pleasure as he tells you how tight you are, how warm and wet and perfect.

It’s exhilarating to have a demon so desperate for you that he can’t stop telling you how good you are, and it’s driving you completely insane. And when your orgasm hits and you start convulsing against him, he growls and fucks you harder. The frantic pace drives you higher and higher, a train of orgasms hitting your body until you are exhausted and can’t hold your legs or arms around him anymore. But he keeps going, fucking you like a flashlight.

By the time he comes inside of you and his hot seed fills your insides, you are nothing more but a limp body against him, his hands around you as he thrusts a couple more times and a big smile on your lips. You’ve never felt so satisfied in your life, and you have enough energy to tell him that. He chuckles.

And then you pass out.

[lumiambrose]

fluff, suggestive ending

It’s rare to see your sleepy boyfriend wake up before you. So you’re initially surprised when you wake up to a half-empty bed. Duvet covering half of your sleepy figure. Taking your time, you slowly slip out of bed and make your way towards the living room, following the fresh aroma lingering in the kitchen.

The smell of coffee and sizzling bacon pulls you from bed. Padding into the kitchen, you find Xavier at the stove, wearing your apron and swaying to soft music. His disheveled hair captures the sunlight, making your heart skip a beat.

He glances back, grinning. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

Before you could open your mouth to reply, his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. The warmth radiating from his body is intoxicating, and you can feel the subtle vibration of his laughter. His finger grazes your chin, tilting it upwards to capture your lips in a kiss that’s slow and lazy—the kind of kiss that makes you forget any sense of time.

"Mmm," he hums, voice low against your face, pressing a few more kisses to your lips, your cheek, and that spot just below your ear that makes you heat up. "You look so beautiful in the mornings. How's a guy supposed to focus?”

"On what, burning breakfast?" you tease, slipping out of his grasp to move the pan away from the heat of the stove. Turning back to face Xavier, you decide to see how far you can tease him.

“Well, at least you didn’t set the smoke alarm off... yet.” You giggle as he makes his way towards you and the no longer edible breakfast.

He lets out a groan, tossing the burnt pancake onto a plate with dramatic flair before turning back to you, hands on his hips. “This was supposed to be a romantic breakfast in bed. But nooo, someone just had to show up early and distract me with their... everything.”

“Blaming me, huh?” You raise an eyebrow at the remark, snagging a piece of bacon that might still be edible. “You’re the one who got lost in the moment.”

(It was not edible)

His arms once again find their place wrapped around your figure, with his head resting on your shoulder. “I regret nothing. Well... except for maybe ruining the pancakes.”

You chuckle again, placing a swift kiss to his cheek before nudging him towards the kitchen island. “How about you prepare some tea and I’ll make breakfast, hmm?”

Xavier, still attached to you, murmurs a sound of disapproval. “Mmm, don’t wanna let go. You’re so warm...”

So, instead of preparing breakfast like you intended, you’re instead swooped up into Xaviers arms as he carries you back to your bedroom.

“I think I have a better way for us to wake up.” He places you down on the bed as he hovers over you, a hand grazing the inside of your thighs. “Don’t you agree, my love?”

©lumiambrose ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[jackiezenauthor]

Someone mentioned a furry becoming a werewolf and it got me chuckling. Of course, I made it worse.

Cw:

furry shenanigans.

No 'action'

single take

"Feel them! They're so fluffy I could die!" the giant wolf squealed like a teenage girl... which she used to be, right before Matilda's summon got lured away from its intended target and decided to sink its demonic fangs into the wrong person.

She looked past the giant furred jugs that were meant to be breasts, trying to figure out what the beast meant. Always hard to tell with animal heads, but this one looked rather... Pleased?

"And I have toe beans too!" the werewolf squealed again, staring at her own paws. "And look at this cake!" she turned around and showed her butt, her tail swinging past Matilda's nose.

The witch stepped backwards, doing her best impression of that smell didn't just insta-kill half of my olfactory cells, and thank Lilith for that. Sometimes people took some time to tease her before finally complaining, and this time she couldn't rush into it either. That wretched demon had messed up, but it was she who summoned it to begin with. For something this irreversible too...

"Nobody believes me, though." the werewolf whined and dropped on the floor, taking a number of books and ingredient jars down with her tail. "For some reason, whenever I open the camera to show them, it cuts off. No matter what I do. And I can't take any pictures either."

Was that crying? Her ears were flat along the line of her head.

Cursing people into lycanthropy was not Matilda's favorite spell, but she'd done it a few times before. This was the first time one had adapted to their new body in a matter of... She checked the clock... Three hours. Usually it took about a week until they even figured out how to stand up on just their hind legs. This one even folowed her summon's smell all the way back to her...

"I am so sorry that you got mixed up into this." Matilda spoke slowly, as peacefully as she could. "You really didn't deserve it."

The beast's eyes widened and a wailing howl broke from her throat.

"You mean, you're going to take it away?" she sobbed.

"Take it awa...? You mean, remove your curse?" Matilda scratched her head. "I... I really can't." she admitted. "BUT! I can make you some potions that will help you keep it in control! Most of the days..." she rushed to the back of her shop, the brew that she'd been working on almost ready. "If you can wait until the moon starts waning."

"You can't?" the werewolf sounded... cheerful?

Yes. The tap on the floor behind her was definitely her tail wagging.

"You don't want the curse removed?" Matilda asked slowly, one hand in her pocket, ready to unravel the silver thread she kept for self defense, just in case the beast exploded on her. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"God, no!" she answered, her tail-wag making a worrisome number of ingredient jars jump on their shelf. "I love being a wolf!" she revealed a worrisome amount of white, sharp fangs, in what could be suspected for being a smile.

Matilda went back to stir her brew one more time, counter-clockwise, then three times clockwise. She reviewed the entire conversation in her mind. No. There had been no real shade of sarcasm, if she accepted the idea that this girl was not, in fact, trying to complain or take revenge... But then...

"Why are you here?" Matilda returned to the main room.

The werewolf got up carefully, holding her tail with one hand and stretching a tote bag to the witch with the other.

"Can you do some kind of spell or curse, so that I can record and take pictures of myself?" she said.

"You want to be on camera?" Matilda looked inside the bag: a phone, a laptop and a webcam...

"Yes, please!" the werewolf flashed her another view of all her fangs.

"I can enchant you a collar..." the witch returned the tote bag. It felt like a very strange fever dream.

The beast squealed and clapped her paws, her tail wrecking havoc through the ingredient jars behind her. She startled and grabbed her tail again, her ears flopping up and down in what could only be... bashfulness?

"I'm so sorry for your jars!" she said. "I'll pay for what can be bought and help gather the others, anytime, just teach me how!"

Matilda nodded, watching the beast cradle her twitching tail to her chest. She really was happy with this situation...

After so many centuries in the craft, she really didn't think anything could surprise her any longer. How wrong she'd been...

"Can it be the pink one?" the werewolf perked up when the witch opened her leather binds cabinet. "And do you need those cuffs anytime soon?" her tail swiped yet another row of jars.

Yeah... There were still mysteries left in the world...

A witch found out to her horror that she had somehow cursed the wrong person. Expecting retribution when the victim came knocking at her doorstep, she was surprised to find them rather pleased with the curse's effects.

[tracklessreason]

Hi. It's me again.

WHERE THE FRICK IS BUMBLEBEE?! Sorry, let me calm down and retry.

Thank you for answering my last ask, I can't help but notice how no one knows where Bee's ghost is. And Megatron is the one looking into the Matrix... Is he haunting Megatron? Trying to stop him from doing it? Helping him?

Is Optimus's ghost following Ratchet around like a sad puppy?

Also just the pairings- Jazz with Megatronus? THat sounds... like fun.

Do the primes miss the other Primes and ask their host if they can check on the other bots that got shrapeneled? Maybe one of them asks if they can find a way to talk with the others... or maybe they can talk trough the hosts... maybe... (ah ah possessed arc)

(PS I really vibe with Hive's whole deal, he is very cool :D and I'm devastated that I'm the one that discovered how he explodes)

Hug hug!

Hi again!!! Don't worry, Bee is still here!

His spirit is just...struggling. He's weak at first, flickering like a dying light bulb. He hasn't left the fractured core of the Matrix still in his corpse, but his soul signature is so weak no one can find him. He's just sort of trapped there for a while, in the burnt out room he died in. Until Megatron of course.

Megatron breaks into the autobot base, walks past every sleeping mech he could easily have snuffed, and steals the Matrix core, and by unintentional extension, steals Bumblebee. Now at first, Bee is rightfully upset. He hates being at the gloomy decepticon base, he hates Megatron for taking his voice, he's just mad. Time passes as Megatron tinkers with the core, and Bee regains strength enough to....throw things???

It shouldn't be possible. Somehow this unstable remnant of the Matrix doesn't contain him, but merely houses him, and as he grows stronger, he can appear as an apparition to Megatron. He uses it almost solely to hinder him. With no voice (even ghost Bee gets no respite) all he can really do is mess up Megatron's workspace and insult him through pantomime. Really he doesn't understand why Megatron puts up with it, but aside from the occasional fit of rage at his antics, the decepticon leader ignores him as much as possible and puts his all into trying to restore the Matrix.

Before long he starts having one sided conversations with Bumblebee. Its mostly complaints at first, and insults towards him and the autobots and whatever else goes wrong in his life outside of this little workshop Bee cant leave. It soon gives way to more private matters; intentionally or not, Megatron is revealing his very convoluted, very mixed feelings about Optimus Prime.

The war has gone on too long, why couldn't that idiot just see things from his perspective, he deserved to die, he will be brought back, how could his oldest friend just leave him like this...

To Bee it sounds...exactly like how Optimus felt about Megatron, just drowned in molten anger issues. Against his self preservation instinct, Bee decides to work towards putting this whole mess to bed. Nothing better to do.

With what limited knowledge and communication he has, he does his best to try and help Megatron fix the Matrix. They have spats still, and plenty of set backs, but things smooth over when Megatron (begrudgingly) admits to feelings of regret over taking Bee's voice. As an olive branch, Bee explains something to Megatron that he's been dying to know: how Optimus died.

Things sour fast. Megatron is determined to murder Starscream, Bee is frustratedly trying to explain that if he does so, this little partnership of convenience is over, and he will ensure that the Matrix is never restored. The end of the war relies almost solely on Megatron reeling in his damn anger, and Bee doesnt intend to allow any slip ups. He has no idea how this will end when Megatron leaves the workshop that night.

On the other side of things, the Primes are having a real...weird time?? The ones without hosts can communicate with each other, but the other four are basically cut off from all but their hosts. They don't have the ability to take control anymore, and even if they did, their hosts are nowhere near as easy to possess, nor as willing, as Hive Prime was. Ratchet especially has threatened to tear the Matrix metal from his frame and grind it to dust if Prima so much as thinks about trying it. The other three hosts are similarly put off.

Once again the Primes are relegated to giving advice, but it's not advice anyone seems to want, and yeah, it's mostly because of the wild pairings. Megatronus is constantly clutching his pearls over Jazz's laid-back attitude and deliberate ignorance of his wishes. Prima's calm rationality does little to temper Ratchet's snappy demeanor and only really gets on his nerves (how can you be so calm after what you all did?). Ironhide straight up refuses to acknowledge Quintus. Drift is probably the only one feeling alright with all this. Alpha Trion is generally reasonable, and isn't interested in having control over Drift's form, nor was he interested in it with Hive, so they just vibe like college roommates.

It's uncomfortable, but the Primes are used to sharing space. The worst part is actually sharing it with fewer mechs than usual. The Primes all miss each other to varying degrees, but for the most part are either too egotistical to admit it, or think it improper to mention.

Of course, grand prize for worst ghost time currently goes to Optimus. Dying, watching Bee suffer, feeling his friend's life force extinguish...

He might as well be a husk right now, full on silent treatment is all he's capable of at the moment. The other Primes know better than to try and speak with him. This is their doing to begin with, the channeling of their energy that strained Bee so heavily. Optimus follows the elected council around during the days, but at night he sits outside the room where Hive's body rests. He was there the night that Megatron broke in.

It takes immense effort to travel far enough out from the base to go see Megatron, and he needs several cycles to recover after every attempt, but he keeps doing it, knowing he could fade away permanently. When he gets there, he's too weak for Bee or Megatron to detect him. But he can hear their talks. He misses them both more than words can say.

(Sorry the response is so long, lol. This ask really got the gears turning in my head. I hope at least that makes up for being the one to find out that Ending 3 Hive dies bloody. I'm really flattered to hear you like him! For me that's quite high praise coming from you. Hug hug!)

[strwbwrrybunny]

all mine. ellie w.

nsfw. your cute girlfriend doesn’t cut it, but your ex does. drabble!

regret courses through you like a raging river, each pulse in your sweaty palm amplifying the weight of the phone. the ring pierces through the silence, a relentless reminder of your impending doom. anxiously, you gnaw at your lip, the taste of iron mingling with your mounting fear. "i'm being ridiculous," you mutter, your thumb hovering over the end call button. but then, the line clicks open, and her voice, sharp and slightly irritated, cuts through the tension.

"hello?"

her tone is justified; after months of silence and the last encounter being a screaming match, she has every right to be annoyed. your mouth goes dry, and you scramble for words, your mind a chaotic mess. "you fuckin' prank calling me?" ellie snaps, her voice heavy with exhaustion. it's three in the morning, and she doesn't have time for games.

"no, no," you stammer, "i just wanted to talk to you." you facepalm, feeling utterly pathetic. you can hear her shifting in bed, her irritation palpable. "right, and you decided to do that on a random tuesday at three in the morning? bye, y/n." her voice is cold, dismissive.

"wait, no! el, please," you beg, your voice cracking. you don’t care how pathetic you sound. "you have two minutes," she sighs, the sound of rustling sheets indicating she’s sitting up. "i-uh, fuck. can you come over?" the words spill out, faster than you intend, a jumbled mess of desperation.

ellie’s not dumb. she knows exactly why you’re calling her. the unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air, thick with tension and unfulfilled desires. you want her, need her in a way that no one else can satisfy.

she always promised that no one could fuck you like she did, and she was right. latest example: the girl you’d been dating for a month, the shy girl from the bookstore where you worked. you felt dirty inviting ellie over right after you’d been with someone else. the girl was always awkward with the sex toys you’d provided, fumbling and unsure, her nervous laughter only adding to the discomfort. she tried her best, but it was clear she was out of her depth.

eventually, you had to fake an orgasm just to get it over with, feeling a pang of emptiness as you did. ellie was right once again, and you hated it. the regret and desire intertwine inside you, creating a potent mix that leaves you breathless, waiting for her response. the memory of ellie’s touch, her confidence, and the way she knew exactly what you needed floods back, making the wait even more unbearable.

the silence on the other end is deafening, each second stretching into an eternity. you can almost hear her thinking, weighing her options. finally, she exhales, a soft sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "you know this is a bad idea, right?" she says, her voice softer now, almost resigned.

"i know," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "but i need to see you. please, ellie."

there's a long pause, and you can imagine her sitting there, running a hand through her hair, contemplating whether to give in to the pull that always seemed to draw you two back together. "fine," she finally says, her voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and something else—something that gives you a glimmer of hope. "i'll be there in twenty."

the call ends, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. the anticipation gnaws at you, a mix of dread and excitement bubbling in your chest. you glance around your apartment, suddenly acutely aware of the mess. you start tidying up, trying to make the place look somewhat presentable, but your mind keeps drifting to ellie.

you remember the first time you met her, how she walked into the room with that confident stride, her presence commanding attention. and then there was her bike—sleek, powerful, a perfect extension of her personality. you were drawn to her like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the allure of her confidence and the way she seemed to see right through you.

as you wait, the memories flood back—late-night rides, whispered confessions, the way her lips felt against yours. the good times, the bad times, and everything in between. you wonder if this time will be any different, if the cycle of attraction and regret will finally break, or if you're doomed to repeat the same mistakes.

“can’t believe i’m doing this,” you mutter, sinking into the plush sofa and tossing your phone aside absentmindedly. the cushions envelop you, offering a fleeting comfort that contrasts with the turmoil inside. “fuck.” you pull at the frayed strings of your old pajama pants, the fabric worn thin and soft from countless washes, and glance down at the t-shirt that’s been begging to see the trash for months. it’s a relic of better times, now faded and stretched, much like your patience.

pushing yourself off the couch, you make your way to your cozy bedroom, the familiar creak of the floorboards underfoot. the soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, inviting light, creating a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. sliding open the closet door, you sift through the hangers, fingers brushing against various fabrics. you’re looking for something to wear, something sexy but not too sexy. you didn’t want to seem like a try-hard.

after a moment, you pull out a sleek black nightgown, simple yet seductive, and hold it up to the light, wondering if it will strike the right balance. the soft, silky fabric feels cool against your skin. you run your fingers over the delicate lace trim, appreciating the craftsmanship and the way it catches the light. the nightgown drapes elegantly, and you know this is the one.

it was almost comical how fast ellie had your face squished into the headboard as she fucked you with the pink strap, her soft moans droned out by your fucked out babbling.

“new girl don’t make you nut? that’s a damn shame.”

you could barely understand the words through her panting and the sound of her hips slapping into yours, but you caught the message.

you couldn't get it out of your mind, though. how did she know you had a new girlfriend? and more importantly, how did she know she was shit in bed? you weren’t exactly sure, and you knew if you asked you would probably receive an answer you weren’t fond of. you tried to push the thoughts from your head, but it wasn’t easy to focus with her thrusts becoming even more erratic, her fingers digging deeper into your hips.

but she did have a point, didn't she? you'd never come that hard from any other partner.

you could feel yourself nearing your second climax as she relentlessly pounded your sweet spot. you were almost embarrassed with how much your body was shaking and spasming, but with ellie it was nothing to be ashamed of. she loved seeing you completely vulnerable for her. spread out, taking each deep thrust like the good girl you were.

"you like that baby? huh? tell me you love it," her words were more demanding than they were questioning, your eyes crossed in bliss.

"i-i lov-e it! oh god!" you choke out, she smiled at your reaction, her chest pressed against your back as she moved you down to lay flat, the new angle making her thrusts even more unforgiving as your knees shook in pleasure. you let out a pathetic squeal, a mixture of spit and tears on the hardwood.

"yeah you do baby, takin’ it like a good girl," she pulled you up so your back was against her chest, the hand that was on your hip was now rubbing fast circles around your clit. your body twitched as you moaned loudly, a familiar feeling burning in your stomach.

“tell me you’ve missed me.”

you have. fuck, you’ve missed her a lot.

"missed yo-y-mm-m g-gonna c-cum ellie-ellie!" you moaned, the feeling becoming too much for you.

"it's okay, cum for me," your hips jolted and your body went rigid, the knot inside you snapping as your vision went white, the only thing keeping you grounded was ellie's arms holding you steady. you gasped as the feeling overtook your body, ellie slowing her movements to help you ride it out.

you came for a second time that night, your eyes rolling back and tears of ecstasy staining your face. she slowed down as your body calmed down, her hand leaving your hip to gently stroke the back of your thigh. you couldn't believe this girl.

she had you crying for her.

she slowly pulled out, watching in amusement as your legs still twitched. you felt the weight shift on the bed as she got up, the pink strap hitting the floor with a thud. you stayed in the position she left you, unable to move after being so thoroughly fucked.

she returned moments later, wiping the mess from your thighs and between your legs. she helped you turn over and lie down, and you finally saw the look of complete and utter adoration on her face.

fuck. you’re in so deep.

im cummin, love my gf. as always, likes, comments and reposts are appreciated! bunny out ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

[heart-eyed-love]

Spaghetti and Sacrifices

Summary | An obscene amount of candles has you thinking something that Eddie hadn’t intended, at least there’s some spaghetti to make up for that

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers, Cursing, Mentions of not being a virgin (lies! but dw, it’ll come up again at some point), Eddie has hopeless romanticness running through his blood and doesn’t even know

Pairings | BestFriend!Eddie x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count | 1.2k

“You know, I made enough for multiple servings not because I wanted you to eat it all.” Wayne eyes Eddie as he slides his coat on getting ready to leave for the night and head out to work.

“Why make so much if you’re gonna judge me for eating it?” Eddie turns his head back to look at his uncle.

“I’ve been seeing Y/n’s mom around less and less, I made enough so maybe you’d invite your friend over and get a good meal in her.” Eddie looks up from his plate of spaghetti and out the window to your trailer, right across from theirs. To no one's surprise the night was getting darker and your mom’s car is still gone. The only light on in your home was through the window that led to your bedroom.

Wayne right. They’ve been seeing less and less of your mom, it’s not like either one of them really went out of their way to seek her out. But she’s your mom, so the casualties were basically required at this point in the friendship.

They wouldn’t be all the surprised if you had seen her just as much as they had lately. You had informed him a few weeks back that she had gotten a new boyfriend and that she seemed to prefer to spend her nights with him now.

“Okay, well I’ll see you in the morning.”Wayne says as slips out the door, out into the night.

Eddie looks down to his plate, he could definitely go for seconds… but he’ll make sure to go get your first. He pulled another plate out of the cabinet before shoveling another slice of the garlic toast into his mouth before heading to the door.

He looked back to the living room area where he would hopefully be sitting with you for the rest of his dinner, but something was missing.

He headed over to the closet in the hallway, grabbing some candles and walking back into the living room. Wayne had a surprising amount of candles and Eddie was gonna use that to his advantage. He set them up on the coffee table in front of the couch.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt the candles were needed, he just did. A nice spaghetti dinner, in front of the Tv, with his best friend… yeah, sure. Why not?

Maybe he went a little overboard with the amount of candles but the ambiance was nice so that's all that really matters.

He threw on his jacket and Wayne’s slippers and slipped out the door. Making his way over to your window, tapping on it lightly.

You hear a small tapping at your window, pulling you from the book you were reading. Setting it down and walking to your window you already knew who was gonna be on the other side. You pull it up anyways, with a smirk on your face.

“My mother’s not here, Edward. You can use the front door.” You tease and he’s narrowing his eyes at the use of his full name.

“Yeah, well where’s the fun in that?”

“What is it you need?”

“Wayne made some dinner, spaghetti. Thought you might want some…” He says, finger twirling the ring round the other.

“Is there any garlic bread?” You question, as if it’s a deal breaker.

“You know there is.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in minute.” You say as you turn to slide your shoes on and then turn back in an attempt to shut your window.

“Wait, just climb out the window.” He says, stopping you from shutting it.

“Why?” You laugh in disbelief.

“Your mom’s never home, you never even have to try and be rebellious, just come out the window, it’ll be like you're sneaking out to come meet me.” He smirks, raising his brows.

He held your hand to help you down, you took it begrudgingly, rolling your eyes as you say, “As if I’d ever sneak out to meet you.”

“You know, sometimes you’re a little pain in my ass.” He says once you’re fully out of your window, he takes the window and shuts it.

“Well, good. I’m glad I was able to fulfill my true role in this friendship.” You smile brightly and he’s flicking your forehead. You shove his back as you both walk over to his trailer, he barely budges.

Hopping up the steps of his porch he opens the door for you, shoving your back into the trailer in return. But once you’re in you freeze at the sight.

Candles. So many candles.

The room is relaxing and the smell of Wayne’s meal makes you feel at home. Eddie walks past you and into the kitchen, “You want me to warm the spaghetti up for you?” He asks as he retrieves the plate he had gotten out for you.

You ignore his question, turning to look at him in the kitchen with an arched brow, “Is Wayne here?”

“Uh no…” He scratches the back of his neck, “no, it’s just us….”

“So it’s finally happening, huh?” You ask, causing Eddie to furrow his brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re finally giving in to all the rumors people spread?” He’s still confused as you go on, “I’m not a virgin, you know?” And he freezes as you say that statement, the smirk on your face feels like you’re taunting him. He’s VERY confused now. Cause that’s like… that’s huge. He is also trying to connect why that’s important right now, and he’s also trying to understand why the thought is making him feel slightly sick.

But quickly you add, “So, I’m not so sure how well this virgin sacrifice will work for you.” He finally rolls his eyes at your teasing and walks back into the living room, shoving your plate over to you.

“You’re so annoying you know that?”

Only causing you to smile more, “So I’ve been told.”

Eddie watches you as you walk into the kitchen, filling your plate with the spaghetti, throwing a piece of the garlic toast on as well. But as he watched you he couldn’t help but think back to what you had said.

That was a joke too, right? The whole you not being a virgin thing was also part of the joke, right?

You walk back into the living room, shoving a whole forkful of the spaghetti into your mouth as you sit down next to him. “So what’s with the copious amount of candles?” You ask, mouth still full of spaghetti. Sometimes he wonders if you guys are too comfortable with each other… it’s not like it bothers him anymore, your little quirks, he just wonders if he’s getting too deep into this.

“Wayne likes them.”

“Yeah, right. I’m sure he does, but maybe not all at the same time.” You giggle.

“It smelt weird in here.” He lied.

“It’s two men living in a small trailer, it always smells weird.” Not even looking at him as you say it, like it’s just common knowledge. Obviously, you’re teasing, but sometimes Eddie has a hard time catching on.

“No, it- Wait, does it?” He asks a tad bit more frantically than he would’ve liked to come off. Causing you to let out a loud laugh.

“Jeez, it’s just too easy with you.”

He’s rolling his eyes, hiding the small smile fighting to make its way on his face by retrieving the remote and turning on the Tv, “Just shut up and eat your spaghetti.”

@evileyeandthecattywhumps

[k1tty5]

I would like to make it clear that I do NOT want anyone’s firstborns, but I will ramble. for you.

rambles about the process and other thoughts under the cut! I talk a LOT, so… view at your own risk?

I originally had this idea a couple months ago, I think when I first heard the song. I had made a little test for it, which I didn’t end up doing anything with because I thought it didn’t really make much sense. Which, I’m not sure I did that great of a job making this make sense, but you know. Whatever.

this is the original drawing i made for it back in early august, very rushed and not a big fan of it.

I liked the black background & grayscale palette, as well as the way the string kind of . Twirls around the text? BUT, I went into this without any planning, mostly just me doodling and then threw the lyrics on for fun. No plot or whatever, very short.

After I made this, I was kind of just keeping this idea in mind for later, but I held back on trying to do it as I just wasn’t really sure where I wanted to go with it. I’m very bad at planning and tend to rush into things a lot, which ends up hindering the quality of a lot of my art. and since this was something I actually liked the idea of, I wanted to give it my all.

There was also the fact that because I liked the idea, I wanted the best outcome. This kind of ends up in a sort of paralysis where I don’t want to work on something because I’m not good enough for it, but I did realize that I will likely never consider myself good enough for it, so why not just go for it?

Anyway ,

I did not end up keeping the black background for the reason that I decided that this time around I wanted it to have a more traditional vibe/look? Like perhaps it was scrawled over some roughed up paper, hence the sketchy style and limited palette.

And as for why I didn’t keep the string looping around the pages, I just thought that would add too much red to the pages, sort of ruining the vibe. So I instead just kept it inside the panels!

these are the original thumbnails/sketches! most of them I kept the same, but I did end up pretty much entirely changing the third page, because I decided there was already too many panels of just their faces with somewhat unsettled expressions .

thoughts on individual pages - don’t expect me to be organized or this to be well thought out, by the way,,

on page 1 ,

I started with a shot of the relationship, mostly to just… set the scene. I am NOT an expert on comics, and went into this with very minimal planning, so this work in general is more of the vibes than it is a storyline, but I did try to vaguely get it to resemble something comprehensible.

the second panel of Etho brushing Joel’s cheek is very much no thoughts for me lol, not very happy with how it looks. I do picture Etho as the more openly affectionate one (though i can see it both ways). BUT, to match with the lyrics, you could say that the first panel paired with “it’s hard to tell which elements of this are real” could be resembling that the boat is something tangible and physical, whereas the second panel paired with “and which are chemically enhanced” is referring to whatever feelings they have. Asking themselves if this is really real, or if it’s just the game.

no notes on the third panel lol. like i say this was not well thought out, the story is somewhat there, but it’s VERY much up to interpretation and I did intend it to be that way. I have ideas about what is happening, but I want to keep it up to the viewer.

on page 2,

“But it’s not easy to tell what I want from what I need” OH BOY !!! manic red joel. blinded by the bloodlust and rage and adrenaline. he needs this. he needs it, doesn’t he?

“I am more scared of myself than I am of anyone else” okay okay okay. I don’t headcanon he has any real remorse for killing anyone. this is a death game, you’re not meant to be a good person, this is built on lies and manipulation and blood and hurt. headcanon they’re all insane people doing bad things (with a forced hand or not). BUT !!! big fan of “i break everything i touch” kind of thing (its kind of a pattern in ships i like OOPS). so much angst. regretful of your violent nature, wishing to be gentler so that you can cradle his face without digging your nails into his skin, unwanting to break the only thing you’ve learnt to love.

but. etho doesn’t care !!! he doesnt care. his hands are just as bloody as yours, don’t you see?

on page 3,

panel one is just a continuation of the last scene which i just talked about blah blah blah

panel 2!! thats a portal. we all know what happened in the portal :)

on page 4.

ending the mini comic thing with the ship burning, while it started with a shot of the ship in its prime. before and after, how it started and how it ended.

all in all, I !! AM !!! INSANE!!! about them. I could ramble for hours probably but this is already long so ending with a couple final thoughts.

this is definitely meant to be set after they’ve gone red, when in that timeframe is up to you, though. in my vision the lyrics are kind of correlating to c!joel’s thoughts/feelings/whatevers, but it can definitely go both ways - or neither way lol. This song is really just like. THEM. To me.

anywho, thank you to anyone who has put the augh’s and ough’s in the tags, they’re very gratifying haha <3

the simplest words

[takamor]

whether he intended to or not (because, for someone so direct and transparent, there seems to be parts of him he doesn’t dare try to understand), nanami has become an expert on how to turn you into putty underneath him. from the way he delicately whispers your name in your ear as if you’re his favorite prayer to how gently his fingers trace all of the bumps and curves on your body, he always leaves you a love-drunk mess, a little high on him. his lips leave open mouthed kisses on all of his favorite parts of you—your neck, your chest, your thighs, your lower back, anywhere he can find traces of stardust swimming under your skin. his voice is always husky—never animalistic, but alarmingly human, as if he’s so struck by the fact that you’ve chosen him he’s afraid an octave higher will break this fantasy to painful shards.

long, graceful fingers expertly work you over and over until you’re a babbling mess underneath him, and he can’t help but push you just a little more because there’s something so addictive about how pretty you are when you’re lost in pleasure. how your body twists and heaves under his touch, shuddering at every little brush of skin and every honeyed word falling from the sweetest mouth. how your hands reach out to bring him closer despite him already being inside of you. “such a pretty thing,” he whispers into your hair. “you feel so good, honey, taking my fingers so well. just a little longer, okay? just sit on my face a little longer. i promise you’ll get my cock soon, i just want to taste you more.” and it should be outright sinful how your thighs hug the sides of his head so well, how your pussy drips its arousal on his face and the taste explodes on his tongue when he drags his tongue across your slit. it should be a blessing from the highest of heavens to hear you cry out his name, to feel your body shake around him as you reach your high once again. his head is spinning and his cock is aching, but he just wants to make you feel so good you can’t possibly think about anything else except him.

and once nanami does finally sink his cock inside of you, he’s leaving the gentlest of kisses anywhere his lips can reach—your collarbone, your forehead, your eyelids, your shoulders, anywhere he can get drunk off of you. he can feel the way your walls stretch to accommodate him, how your cunt struggles to suck him and throbs with anticipation, and he loudly groans into the side of your neck. “o-oh fuck, darling, ‘s so tight. you feel so good.” of course, he doesn’t miss how you clamp down onto him and that glazed over look your eyes get whenever his praise reaches your ears. strong, steady hips rock against yours with a tenderness you never thought to associate with a man of nanami’s size, but you’ve quickly learned that your lover is full of surprises. like when he wraps your legs around his slim waist so he can be as close to you as possible. or when he laces his fingers with yours and pins your hand above your head so he has easy access to plant wet kisses all over your chest. or when every kiss is met with praises of, “you’re taking me so well, honey, feels so good. such a pretty pussy stretching so nicely for me. i could stay like this forever.”

and when nanami cums, he insists you do it together. his thrusts are getting sloppier, your cunt is getting tighter, and he knows he needs to just push you over the edge the tiniest bit more. gathering some of your arousal that had splashed onto his thigh, he rubs your puffy clit with a determined digit, his lips kissing and sucking on your shoulder and overwhelming all of your senses. “cum for me, sweetheart, let go on my cock, please. wanna make you feel so, so good.” and he’s so dizzy on all of your moans and pleas, so drunk on the way your hands clutch on to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you grounded, he can’t help but allow himself to cum with you, cock throbbing as he paints your walls white. “there you go, darling, you’re doing so well for me. so, so fucking well. so fucking good for me.”

[helplessautomaton]

WC 876

addon to the last post abt yandere daisuke,, sorry gang i lowkey forgor. also, i dont think i can keep using ingame screenshots for the header so i might ditch that because i don't want to use outside sources. tbf i could just draw my own for that- anyways!

i straight up forgot about the please aspect and did not take advantage of that! mightve gotten cared away, apologies hehe, also this is my last post for today, sorry

~

its gonna start off slow with daisuke, he just wants praise from the people around him who know better! he just wants to know hes doing a good job so please tell him he is. as his obsession starts to grow hes unaware of his expression with his eyes. staring at you, expecting— wanting praise, just to give him that extra boost. as time progresses along with his attachment towards you, no matter what part you have in the crew, he tries to help you. his cheery smile making it hard to resist and say no. gently grabbing your hands while you two take a break, blabbering on about he managed to do and going off topic about whatever. all this while he has a golden smile directed at you, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners to match.

when you hang around swansea and daisuke, you semi-jokingly praise him to give him more of a boost. its sends him over the moon to know hes doing right by you! swansea makes little teasing comments when daisuke is out of ear. as he starts to get more conscious of his obsession with you, he acts on it more knowingly. trying to push the buttons he know works even when its starting wear off and you hesitantly go along with it.

he wants to share his happiness you give to him, he wants to see you happy. at this point you are his world and hes not willing to give that up to anyone. even if it makes him a little uncharacteristicly harsh to the other crew members. he doesnt risk what he doesnt have to, even if curly or anya warm up to you the same way he originally started out. thats not to say it tugs at daisuke and makes him annoyed, he knows its not irrational but for jimmy he is justified if he dares to try anything. i feel like he would over look or straight up not notice if swansea treat you very slightly better because lets be honest, hes probably getting that same deal as well. theres so much daisuke wants to do but due to the environment he cant, but him stealing a packet or two of sugar just for you can make up for it.

really at this point, daisuke is at your beck n call whether you want it or not, hes so attached he refuses to let go. hes still his usual self when hes only with you, optimistic and bright eyed. even if swansea is hitting him in the back of the head to make him focus. but during this point everyone is starting to notice daisuke's behavior and the frustration sets in. even if curly tries to redirect him back to speed, daisuke needs you. attempting to praise him just to get him to do his job wont exactly work if you have to speed off to your intended chores. jimmy's comments start to become more sharp as he glares at the both of you while all you can do is look away, really just not wanting this either.

after the crash, he uses his tears to just get something, mostly he wants reassurance to refresh his optimism. especially when he gets drunk on the mouthwash, he cant help it, hes still doing a good job despite it all, right? he tries his best to keep you content in anyway shape or form, even if it means hiding you away from everyone for a little while. afterall, what can he do anymore. so please, just let him make you smile for sometime before the situation breaks back through to reality.

//

"daisuke can you please keep on? youre doing a wonderful job we can go on a break soon." you try to charm your way through, swansea was getting more snappy at the both of you. daisuke's let his smile takeover, his eyes crinkling, nodding he continues under whatever swansea needs him to do. the tension in the room was clear, your jaw was tensed up, this had been the 6th day you had to do this. you worked beside anya not swansea, yet daisuke needed you or else youd be hearing complaints from 4 people of the crew out of 5. you werent even paying attention to the way either swansea or daisuke worked on whatever they were working on, yet daisuke called out to you. "alright i think we got it all done for now, swansea said im good to get on break now."

you sighed slightly and let daisuke lead the way, joking and telling you whatever crossed his mind. "i was doing a good job right?" his quiet voice snapped you back to where you were at, stopping just in time so you didnt accidentally knock over daisuke. "uhh,, yeah, it did look like you were, um, working hard! just keep doing what swansea wants you to do."

daisuke looks over to you, watching you carefully with his eyes before he breaks out into a usual smile and carries on with going into the lounge.