#( i kept it small and vague so you decide what follows )

[moved--naitfall]

@worldhell asked:

[ hips ]   your muse pulling mine in close by the hips. - farlan c:

❥     𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   .

A game for two. One where their life could be on the line as well — life as they knew it, as they had found comfort in being. In every challenge, they were together, working as a team, relying on one another, fighting as equals, filling up where the other couldn’t. Farlan, with his devious perception and cool head, and Levi with his instincts and raw strength. Farlan may not realize the countless times Levi had surrendered completely to his will, make the decisions for him, take the lead — ask him to jump and he would, for he trusted him with his entire being. This moment, was one of these times. 

Surprised, his breath caught for a moment, his effort to mask his reaction a failed one. Only Farlan would get to see him without his defenses, share such closeness of both body and mind. If it was anyone else, he would have pushed them away at best, if he could have held himself back from taking out his blade, an instinctual response. There were no restraints between them, granted each other the freedom to do as they desired.

Intimacy was foreign to him, a part not dared to trigger, another weakness of his, a part he had to leave behind in order to keep moving forward. His touch was gentle, comforting, unexpectedly. Was it part of him had been craving to be held, for his hold, to soothe his tense nerves? 

He remained silent. Waiting. Staring. Demanding for action. What kind of action, though? Hell if he knew. In light gray eyes he got lost, focused, frozen before him, like surrendering prey. ❝ What’s on that devious mind of yours? ❞ His lips kept a breath away from touching. Was Levi playing the same kind of game, pretending to be the one at loss? Or was there a different kind of gravity between them, keeping them close, bound to one another? None could escape gravity, not even Levi.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Boy from Stevenage - Lewis Hamilton

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: none, tooth rooting fluff, Lewis being vulnerable

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Felt like fluff was due, so totally self-indulgent nonsense I wrote after hearing bits of his speach for his GQ Awards.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

You leaned against the doorway as Lewis moved restlessly across the room, his brow furrowed with concentration. A braid kept falling into his face, and he kept tucking it behind his ear. He muttered to the reflection in the mirror, his expression serious as he practiced his speech for the GQ Awards ceremony, rehearsing it with the same intensity he would study race tracks.

A smile tugged at your lips. It was endearing, this nervous energy that usually only manifested before a race, and that so few got to see, filling the master bathroom of his NYC apartment. Tonight, however, the only race was against his stubborn desire to perfectly deliver his message.

When he finally sighed in frustration, you decided to fully enter the room. He caught your reflection in the mirror, and his face softened, the tension momentarily lessened.

"Hey," you tilted your head, offering a small smile.

He straightened, taking a deep breath. "Hi. How long have you been there?"

You shrugged, reaching for the fingers that gripped the marble. "A minute or two. Just… watching the master at work."

He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "More like a nervous wreck."

He gestured vaguely to the crumpled paper clutched in his hand. "Do you think it's alright? I don't want to sound… pompous."

You reached out for him, turning his face to look him in the eye, your fingers smoothing the worry lines on his brow with your thumb. "Lewis," you started, your voice soft. "Nobody's going to think you're pompous. They're going to be captivated."

His eyes, the warm brown that stole your breath every time, met yours with a glint of nervousness. "You really think so?"

A soft smile and chuckle spread through your features. It was a challenge, putting your admiration for him into words. You weren’t one for grand gestures or over-the-top declarations. It was in the quiet moments, the shared understanding, the unspoken language that existed only between the two of you that you showed him how much he meant to you.

"They'll all be in love with you," you finally said, a loving spark in your eyes. "Just like I am."

He chuckled, a hint of relief washing over him. "Smooth, (Y/N)."

You took his hand, gently pulling him away from the mirror. "Come on," you said, urging him towards the plush armchair in the bedroom nestled by the window. "Let's forget about speeches for a while."

He followed willingly, sinking into the chair with a sigh as he dragged you down with him. You settled on his lap, pulling your legs comfortably on top of his on the stool. The city lights became a shimmering backdrop to your comfortable silence.

"I’m really proud of you," your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers danced on his chest and he looked out the window.

His hand automatically sought yours. You squeezed gently. "More than you can imagine," you admitted.

"Sometimes it all feels a bit overwhelming," he confessed, his voice raw. "The platform, the attention, the expectation to be a voice for everything."

"You don't have to be a voice for everything, though," you countered, your voice firm as he locked his gaze on your intertwined fingers. "But what you do choose to speak up about… that's what makes me so proud."

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face. "Even the stuff that makes some people uncomfortable?"

You let out a proud smile and a knowing giggle. "Especially those. You use your platform to speak when others won’t."

He squeezed your hand, gratitude evident in his tone and his eyes. "Maybe you should be writing the speeches after all."

You laughed, a soft sound that filled the room. "You just need to be reminded that you're Lewis Hamilton, not a nervous rookie on his first podium."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, his arms embracing you as he turned his head, placing a soft kiss on your temple. "Thank you, love. But we really need to get going," he whispered, just before he picked you up and put you back down on the armchair, heading back to the bathroom.

As Lewis got in the shower, you couldn't help but steal a glance at the crumpled speech in his hand. You knew he wasn't one to brag about his achievements, but a part of you yearned to understand the weight of the words he was struggling with.

Carefully, you reached out and picked up the paper. It was filled with Lewis's handwriting, edits scrawled across some lines. You scanned the opening, your heart swelling. It wasn't about self-praise or glorifying his victories. It was a heartfelt dedication to the countless individuals who had supported him on his journey, from his early days karting in Stevenage until now.

He spoke of his family, the unwavering pillar behind him, their sacrifices paving the way for his dreams. He mentioned his mentors and heroes, those who had nurtured his talent and those who had inspired him to push to be his best. He even acknowledged his rivals, the competitors that had honed his skills and fueled his relentless pursuit of excellence.

But then, there was a section that was heavily underlined, a paragraph riddled with question marks and crossed-out phrases. It was about the kids that he hoped to have inspired.

He wrote about the grounding effect they had on his own path. He spoke of how he, too, was an impressionable young boy, wishing for something greater.

You knew sometimes Lewis struggled to express his emotions openly, yet here he was, trying to articulate the depth of what it meant to him to be put on the same pedestal as his heroes.

It was the written proof of how much this award, how much this entire platform, meant to him – a chance to not just be Lewis Hamilton, the champion, but Lewis, the boy who had aimed for the stars and received the moon as a gift.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. You pictured the faces in the opulent ballroom, expecting a typical self-congratulatory speech from the motorsport legend. The surprise on their faces when Lewis poured his heart out, his voice thick with a vulnerability they wouldn't have anticipated, would be priceless.

He may be a titan on the racetrack, but here, in the quiet intimacy of the apartment, he was simply Lewis, the man who might fumble with expressing his emotions but whose actions spoke volumes.

As you two rode in the backseat towards the gala, the city lights morphing into a mesmerizing dance of colors, you snuggled closer to Lewis, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm.

"Hey," you whispered, tracing a finger across the back of his hand.

He jolted out of his thoughts, his eyes looking for yours. "Hmm?"

"You know," you began, searching for the right words, "you don't need to win over that entire room tonight. You just need to make that brave boy from Stevenage proud."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[miru667]

The whole Once-ler family is working full tilt!

Here's my full piece for the VK Onceler Zine! I was very lucky to get to be a part of it...🥹 I used concept art as my inspiration this time: [link] Keep reading below for my process vid and all my director's commentary!

Thank you for being curious! Here's a video of my WIPs:

Deadlines were TIGHT for this zine! We were given only 2 months (compared to the 6 months I had on the previous onceler zine), so to make sure I could finish on time, I decided to do only base colours and lighting, with almost no shading anywhere. Still, trying to balance all the colours took the longest for me, as you can see in the vid. xP

Also idk if anyone noticed, but for the face I chose to use an already existing onceler doodle: [link] Why? Well, why not! I really liked that doodle and I didn't want it to go to waste. 😆

Things that I enjoyed sneaking in:

-the golden spiral! Vaguely, at least! At the very least I hope your eyes can follow the order of thneed production, from the fallen tree at the window to the tuft harvesting to the thread spinning, to knitting the thneed and then drawing up plans for bigger and better things, and then ending with him pulling on his iconic glove to show he's going to take control now

-15 cents, a nail, and a great great great grandfather snail, as well as a tin pail since that's where you're supposed to deposit your payment

-combining things from the 2012 movie and concept art, the 1972 movie, and the 1971 book (e.g. that funny wrench he uses to fix pipes)

-Miss O'Schmunce-ler! You can see from the vid that I added the bracelet pretty late, because it was a late decision to have a Miss O'Schumunce-ler somewhere. I chose her to be the one picking up the pencil in the end, since she's pretty good with a pencil in the movie hehe. You guys can pretend the arms holding the phone is Miss Funce-ler.

-a thneed, a seed, and a (grickle grass) weed on the floor. The thneed is just the first of many that will soon create a giant pile. The seed lies forgotten in the corner. The weed is foreshadowing the future.

-hinting that Lorax and Once-ler were actually good friends, like they were in the Lorax musical stageplay. 🥺 I kept this part of the script in my mind for this piece:

This was aftermath Once-ler talking to the Lorax, reminiscing on their good times...and also being stupid and inconsiderate because the Lorax was in fact there all along as his friend, trying to warn him of what was going to happen. 😔

So in my zine piece we're witnessing a peaceful time before all the real biggering really starts. I like to think that in this scene, the Lorax had been sitting on the Once-ler's lap, holding his gloves for him and having a nice chat together with maybe some harmless bickering, but then the Once-ler gets a phone call so he cuts their convo short and rolls his chair over to the window to answer it. Putting business over friendship as usual, of course. Inspo for the lap sitting comes from this fanart by Emi that I love: [link]

What else...the parts that I'm proud of the most are the stool (I spent 2 days just drawing this stool), the curtains, the fact that I was able to include every truffula colour, and the Once-ler's pose. I was close to giving up on that pose because I had no idea how to draw it but I'm glad that I tried again. I wanted to show him at ease during a stage in his life that we never got to see much: the happier and more innocent days of his biggering when he only had a small shop. 😊

That's all, I think! Thanks for reading if you did! Once again it was an honour to be part of this zine!!

[bumblesimagines]

but what if you're the one for me?

when were you going to tell me you were seeing someone? i thought i was the first person you told about that stuff.

- Cassie Howard

but what if you're the one for me?

when were you going to tell me you were seeing someone? i thought i was the first person you told about that stuff.

Pronouns: He/Him/His

Gathering the multiple party-sized bags into your arms, you peered over the top of them as you followed Lexi out of the kitchen and into the living room where the girls had gathered around. From the flush on Cassie's cheek and the way Maddy and Kat giggled, Suze must've told a helluva story. Lexi carefully balanced the small cups of dippings with one arm and began setting them down on the coffee table alongside the scattered candy wrappers and beer cans.

"Finally," Maddy groaned, wiping her lips free of beer and reaching for one of the tortilla chip bags you held. She ripped it open and dug inside, pulling two chips free and eagerly dipping them into the guacamole. She did a blissful shimmy when she munched on the chips and happily went in for more chips. 

"So, (Y/N)," Kat began with a wicked grin, her eyes watching you set the rest of the bags down on the table. You glanced at her questionably and settled down nicely beside Cassie, already feeling ganged up on from the way Maddy and BB turned to Kat expectantly. She took her time, sipping on her beer and taking a bite out of a chip before continuing. "I heard that you and Tammy Lewis were getting a little cozy at the movies last Sunday."

"What?!" Maddy nearly shrieked with a mouthful of chips, her head whipping around to look at you with wide eyes. "You dick! Why didn't you tell us?"

The guys at school who constantly badgered you with questions as to how you could've possibly managed to land a spot in a friend group consisting of the prettiest popular cheerleaders in school had no clue the type of torture you'd been under since 6th grade.

It'd all started one fateful afternoon during lunchtime when the snotty boy in front of you had made fun of Kat and tried to flee before Maddy could lay into him. It'd been instinctive how you stuck your leg out and sent him toppling to the floor. The humiliation of not only falling in front of half the school combined with getting a bloody nose had made the boy cry and you'd been given a couple days of suspension. When you returned afterward, you'd been formally invited to sit with the girls at lunch by none other than Madeleine Perez. 

From then on, the girls kept you around and you were quickly dubbed the luckiest guy in school, even if you viewed all the girls as sisters and they treated you like a baby brother they liked dressing up and cooing over. But along with the territory of brother, came the gossip, drama, and the fact every single person you vaguely showed interest in had to be approved by the council.

"It's not serious, Mads, I swear. It's just.... dating. We're not together." 

"Not yet." BB cooed, exhaling a breath of smoke and snickering when you groaned.

"Tammy Lewis," Maddy murmured and leaned back into the cushion of the couch with squinted eyes. "She's pretty, I guess."

"She's failing English," Kat added, "Like kindergarten reading comprehension type of failing."

"I think she's sweet." Lexi piped in, cradling a cola can in her hands and shrugging her shoulders. 

"It's not serious," You groaned again. "I would've told you guys if it were, I swear! It was just one date and nothing happened." 

Maddy squinted again. "Nothing? Not even a little kiss?"

"Maybe... maybe like one kiss-"

"And you didn't tell us?!" Maddy shrieked again and grabbed a pillow, tossing it over the coffee table and hitting you square in the chest. Unnaturally quiet Cassie laughed, albeit forced and slightly awkward, and retrieved the pillow before it could go tumbling to the floor. You glanced at the blonde, finally noting her lack of input but decided to leave it for later rather than put her on the spot. 

The rest of the night had been the same as others, with a couple movies put on the TV until the girls ultimately passed out either on the floor or the couch. Suze ensured everyone had blankets and pillows as she called up the parents to alert them their kids would be staying over before she retreated upstairs to her bedroom with one last glass of wine in hand.

You'd been curled up on the end of the couch on the brink of dozing off until the feeling of someone slipping by startled you awake and you caught Cassie slipping into the kitchen. You yawned and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, tugging the blanket over your shoulders and shuffling after her into the kitchen. 

"Oh, hey," She greeted quietly, taking a water bottle out of the fridge and drinking from it. 

"You okay?" You questioned and leaned against one of the counters, trying to fight the exhaustion from clouding your brain. Cassie brushed some loose strands of hair back and took another sip of water, the look on her face conflicted. Cassie confided in you all the time, whether about guys or her mother, so her hesitation seemed odd. 

"When were you going to tell me you were seeing someone?" She asked quietly, running her finger over the rim of the bottle. "I thought I was the first person you told about that stuff."

"You've got a lot on your plate already, Cass. I thought it'd be better to let you recover from... everything." Your eyes flickered down to her belly. She'd hardly been able to tell the girls about it when she found out, seeing as Maddy and Kat had gotten into it and angered each other that day. McKay had known, of course he had, but he hadn't been the one she called when the procedure had been over and done with. 

"I... I'm fine, (Y/N). I'm past it. I'm past McKay. He didn't make me feel... special or loved or.. beautiful. I know that's how love is supposed to make you feel. It- It shouldn't make you feel like shit." Cassie said, setting the bottle aside and turning to face you. Her eyes softened and then began to glisten with tears. You frowned and moved the blanket from your shoulders, taking a step closer and wrapping it around her instead. "He wasn't the one for me... but what if you're the one for me?"

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Waffles for breakfast

Pairing/AU: Joel Miller x afab!reader, no outbreak so flour is safe in this one lol

Words counts: 1141

Rating: +16? (just a little tiny smut 👀)

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, reader is described having breasts and vagina, no other description is given, established relationship, a huge amount of fluff, mutual masturbation, unprotected p in v (do better irl!), joel cooks (i feel like this needs its own tag 😂)

A/N: another thing I wrote a year ago, revised and corrected. I hope there are no mistakes but if there are please, forgive me.

Enjoy the Sunday fluff my lovely friends, hope you’ll like it and you’ll have a really nice day♥️

Tagging: @baronessvonglitter , @aurorawritestoescape, @milla-frenchy and @bean-is-reading just to say thanks for your encouragement, kindness and support, you all are great and deserve the world 😭♥️

Thanks to anyone who reads this!

“Joel”

“What”

“Leave it alone, there's no need for you to do it”

“I’m doing great!”

“Okay”

You are observing a batter that is too liquid and full of lumps.

Joel got into his head to prepare breakfast this morning, perhaps because last night you ironically commented on his total inability to cook something vaguely edible.

“Let me finish, you'll see you'll like them”

He got into his head to make you waffles.

Him.

The one who burns everything he tries to cook, the one who holds a neat pile of takeaway flyers near the phone.

His idea of fine cuisine is fried chicken wings or pepperoni pizza with olives.  

You tried to make him forget that he promised you, you tried very hard.

This morning you woke up first, slipped over to his side of the bed and hugged him, clinging to his back and encircling his waist with one arm.

You intertwined your legs with his to get as close as possible and slid your hand under his shirt caressing his tummy, leaving little kisses on his wide back through the shirt. 

Your hand made its way into his boxers to reach his sex and you gently stroked it until you felt it get hard.

He made a grunt as he woke up and put his big hand on yours, continuing to massage. 

You surrounded the base with your fingers, slowly going up to the tip, stroking his cock.

Slowly.

He made a deep, hoarse moan. 

He turned to look at you and held you close, lowered a hand on your sex and massaged you in turn.

You took back his shaft in your hand and you both continued like this, caressing each other, looking at each other smiling, until everything became too hot and blurry.

You undressed in an instant, throwing everything on the floor.

You rode him the way he likes it, your hands resting on his broad chest while he held you firmly by your hips. He always says he loves seeing you like this and he loves your tits bounce before his eyes.

You lay on him exhausted, totally satisfied, he hugged you tightly.

“God baby, you're amazing”

He kept you like this for what seemed like an endless time and anyway you wish it never ended.

He kissed your forehead and nose and whispered “well, good morning I guess”.

You giggled then kissed that little patch in his beard that you adore “Good morning, Joel”.

You thought he'd forget by then and never get up.

Joel, however, is a man who keeps his promises.

He is a stubborn man, above all, when he gets something in his head, nothing stops him. Whether it's small or big doesn't matter.

And he would do anything when he cares about a person.

He got up and you saw him disappear in the bathroom.

 You wanted to follow to continue distracting him but you knew that it would be useless anyway so you decided to enjoy the warmth of the bed for a while longer, wrapped in his scent on the sheets and pillow.

You heard the shower water flowing and after a few minutes he came out with a towel around his waist, a few drops of water still on his skin, chest, shoulders, wet hair pulled back.

A breathtaking view.

You would have liked to drag him back to bed but he headed to the closet, pulled out a clean t-shirt, boxer briefs and a pair of sweatpants.

He got dressed and said, “stay in bed, babe, I'll make you breakfast” with a smile so sweet and enthusiastic that it melted your heart.

 You didn't have the courage to say no to him, and now you're here, watching him energetically turn a spoon into the bowl and try to remove the lumps from a too liquid blob. You wonder how he was able to make it liquid but at the same time lumpy.

You smile, looking at how he's trying.

“Joel, please. There are frozen pancakes in the freezer.”

“Absolutely not, it's Sunday, I won't let you eat frozen stuff”

And you laugh thinking that he would like to give you that thing that he is furiously stirring instead.

It looks like glue.

You stop protesting, because you see how tenderly he looks at you, you see how convinced he is as he pulls out the waffle iron and lets it warm up.

In the meantime, the batter has thickened a bit but it remains full of lumps.

You offer to set the table, but he doesn't want you to do that either.

“Today you have to relax, I'll take care of you”

You stay on your stool, with your elbows leaning against the island counter looking at him and remaining silent, enjoying the sight of his arms delightfully embraced by his t-shirt.

He puts two placemats on the counter, two plates, cutlery and glasses. 

He takes the orange juice out of the fridge.

Pour a little batter on the iron, close and wait with a satisfied smile.

What he puts on your plate it’s the ugliest waffle you've ever seen but you don't have the heart to tell him.

Not when he seems so proud and convinced of his work.

After all, what does it cost you to taste?

You hope you won't need to call 911.

You chew slowly, tasting a strange flavor, but you don't say anything.

He looks at you in expectation.

“So, how is it?”

“Good” you try to say, but you don't know how to swallow the bite.

It's weird, gummy, incredibly salty.

You keep chewing while he takes a bite too.

He chews for a few seconds and then roll his eyes and bend over the sink spitting.

“My God it’s horrible! Don't eat it!”

At his surrender, you can no longer resist and you also spit in the sink and then turn on the garbage disposal hoping that that horrible thing will disappear forever.

 You laugh, you laugh so much that tears come to your eyes while he looks so sorry.

“I think I put salt instead of sugar in it” he murmurs.

You keep laughing, as you approach to hug him “how much did you put in, a whole jar?”

“Fuck” he rolls his eyes, looking frustrated.

“Babe, it doesn't matter, really”

You squeeze him as much as you can, he put his chin on your shoulder “I’m sorry, I wanted to do something nice”

“Don't worry, you tried” you stroke the back of his neck trying to comfort him “I appreciate it anyway”

His strong arms surround your waist and you wouldn't want to change him with anything in the world.

You look him in the eyes “I love you”

“Damn I guess that's true, considering the crap I just made”

And he laughs too, finally relaxed.

“I love you too”

And he kisses you.

After all, breakfast is not that important.

[pixelchills]

Okay, you anon on my inbox,

you said that some followers of mine have been disappointed in me for partaking in the tsams harassment document, since I am a creator a lot of people look up to. I am not answering the ask itself because it has a blog mentioned, but I will answer your worries about the situation the best I can.

I am not going to talk about the drama itself since I have retained myself from discussing and spinning things any further about the situation.

But those of you who are mad at me for being part of the document; please at least read my part of it, if you haven't already.

The document was made as an archive for the victims of that hate blog (biased-tsams-confessions). Every screenshotted post on the document is available publicly, and all I did was allow my content and posts about the situation to be used in the document.

I was an unnecessary victim of the hate blog. Had no one name-dropped me in that blog and caused me to get anons and not-anons harass me and claim that I was one of the people sending minors gore, I would not have needed to publicly talk about anything relating to the drama. I would not be in the document if I wasn't a victim of being wrongly assumed to support NSFW being sent to minors. Which is a heavy allegation.

The document is not about the gore anon victims. It's about the victims of the witch hunt that people caused by starting to blame innocent people for being or supporting the gore anons.

I am not asking myself to be removed from the document. I am there as a victim. The other people in the document, as well as their actions, have nothing to do with me, or my part in this, other than them being my friends/mutuals in the fandom, and victims of the same hate blog and witch hunt. If some of them have answered or reacted aggressively to something regarding the situation, it is on them. It is not my job to decide what my friends/mutuals are allowed to answer or do.

During this whole time, I have kept saying over and over that people should just block and move on and ignore and not vague about each other, but I cannot control other people besides myself.

I do not support harassment of any kind. But I am also not going to be silent for being a victim. Even if I was just a small misstep for the hate blog, I was still targeted because of them. I was truly ready to just forgive them and put it all behind me, if their reply to my request to apologise to me publicly hadn’t been so aggressive, and they hadn’t targeted another innocent person later (Z). The mod responding to my dm said I was manipulating them, and that they didn't believe me. So their posted apology wasn't genuine, it was just them trying to save themselves from me exposing them.

If you think I should've not allowed my posts to be part of the document then I want to ask you this:

Should a victim be quiet about being harassed just because the other harassed people have said or done something you disagree with?

Again, what I had to deal with was very small compared to some of the other people the hate blog targeted, but even a small victim is a victim if they gained harm from it.

As what comes to the document: I did not write it, nor did I read it until it was publicly shared. All I did was give my permission to use my posts in it.

I was aware that the doc included names of the people who have also participated in or supported the harassment by the hate blog or shattered. 

I did not find the list of supporters necessary to include, and I told the others this. The list has recently been removed by the owner of the document after new information has come to light. I know this will not erase the fact the names were there.

I am not making statements about the harassment supporters mentioned in the doc, because I am not going to dig up if they should be there or not. I have spent too much time on this drama publicly already, when all I wanted to do was ignore it and let my friends vent their frustration to me privately if needed.

Despite the situation being what it is, I have wanted to stay neutral in it, besides the hate blog which is the sole reason I had to pipe up in the first place. I have been keeping my stance neutral between the two groups. I have not blocked anyone from either side (except the hate blog), and I have no hard feelings towards my friends, or my followers who are disagreeing with each other.

If you want me to apologise for being part of the document, I'm sorry but I can't. It's the same as saying "I'm sorry I talked about being harassed."

If you still feel like you're personally affected by my involvement in this, or you are a follower of mine getting harassed because of this document, please DM me and I'll try to help you out the best I can.

The blogs mentioned in the document have not been actively harassing me, and those who did take part in smearing my name I will not name, because I genuinely think they realised their mistake (unlike the hate blog) and understood that I have nothing to do with the gore anons nor do I believe they were a hoax.

[tlkfaerie]

Impossible

Pairing: Sihtric x reader x Finan ✩࿐

⋆｡˚☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ wc: 5.9k

note: I'm sensing a pattern arising where the reader is related to Uhtred in my writing pffft I just love it lol. this fic is a bit shameless of me tbh, consider Sihtric and Finan to be your mindless Kens in this.

summary: Sihtric and Finan do not take kindly to your attitude after they catch you with another warrior, leading to a night filled with confession and obsession. ✧˖°

MDNI! 18+ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･TW!: mentions of potential assault, period-typical misogyny, mentions of blood, pining, F/M/M, oral (male receiving), p in v, slight domination etc

You had been resting all day, abandoning any duties that had been bestowed on you by Beocca or the others. Osferth had been with you for a while, but had run as soon as he saw some of your lady friends approaching, fearing that they would hassle him. Though he was sweet, he was incredibly oblivious, a trait that had gotten him into serious trouble - and by default, you too.

It was always you that seemed to be involved in some kind of dilemma, Uhtred's sister, clumsy and short-tempered. You always likened yourself more to Brida, wanting to follow in her wild, mildly assaulting ways with people. Ragnar cherished you, but always decided that Uhtred would be able to keep you safer, as he had a mixed band of trustworthy individuals.

You wandered in the nearby woods, collecting random flowers that interested you and occasionally stuffing them in-between the threading of your dress, which by now was soaked with a layer of mud from the terrain beneath your feet. Thyra had warned you not to arrive back too late. You knew that you shouldn't be too long, not on your own like this, but for now, everything in Uhtred's world seemed remarkably peaceful. For someone who liked to play with Alfred's commands, this was a miracle.

You revelled in your own company for a little longer, feeling your heart stop when your peace was finally disturbed by hooves. Before you turned around, you feared the worst, that it was some enemy of Uhtred's come to claim you and sell you for ransom. Fingertips going cold, you rested your thumb on the hiding place that you usually kept a small blade in, feeling its absence and cursing wildly.

Shit.

"And why do I find you out here all alone, lady?" you vaguely recognised the voice to be Gudrun, one of your brother's warriors and somewhat of a childhood acquaintance. You turned swiftly, to find the man looking down at you from his horse. He was handsome in his own right - but you had often seen him night after night sitting with a cup of ale, and whatever company he could find for the night. You did not blame him, finding yourself at the mercy of ale from time to time, but wondered why he squandered his talents on such wasteful hobbies so often.

"Please don't let me stop you on your journey Gudrun, I wouldn't want to slow you down," you began to dismiss him somewhat, feeling a fool for straying so far from the village with so little to protect you. You knew he was one of Uhtred's men, but the company of men was a tumultuous one.

"Not at all, Y/N. In fact, I can think of no better way for my journey to be disturbed," he smiled rather darkly, a tone of strange flirtation in his voice. You assumed he was harmless, relaxing a little as you accepted his compliment. You wanted Uhtred to come behind him at any moment to protect you, but he had his own children and wife to worry about now, so you were forced to remain.

"That's too kind, Gudrun, where are you headed?"

"To Lunden, just on some small duty. It's nothing serious. You should accompany me, lady."

You grimaced at that, knowing what had occurred at Lunden not too long ago. Gudrun seemed pleased at your discomfort. You felt bad for characterising him as a brute, wanting to remain pleasant to him, but you had observed how he was with his women before, often leaving them bruised and in need of comfort.

You politely refuse, wanting to be done with the situation, but then he dismounts from his horse, the poor thing jolting slightly. You watched the animal relax, returning your gaze to the much taller man who now hovered above you, blonde hair cascading in layered pieces around his face.

You stood your ground when he spoke. "Are you sure, pretty? I would not want to leave you out here alone, where any man could claim you for his own," he whispered, forehead practically touching yours as he took a few steps closer. You didn't like what he was saying, cheeks burning with his words, feeling your own brows furrowing. You were perfectly capable of defending yourself, or at least you thought you were.

Uhtred's best men and your closest friends, Sihtric and Finan, spent hours with you teaching you basic movements of defence, and when you were in the company of Brida and Ragnar, which wasn't often, you often challenged them to silly fights that you had occasionally won.

You didn't think before you shouted at him, "have the weight of your disgusting balls dragged your brain down with them? Or did you not hear what I said?"

You realised all too late that you had escalated the situation, watching the surprise on his face grow into anger, stalking backwards as you realised Gudrun's intentions may not have been as pure as you once thought. You didn't want to cause Uhtred any more unnecessary problems or create new tensions, but the way Gudrun was now staring at you reminded you that you were truly at his mercy.

"Those are such vulgar words for a lady like you, Y/N. I could have your tongue for that, but I can think of a better use for it first," he grinned, closing in on you. Your back quickly hit a tree, and you felt an immediate flush of nervousness. Nevertheless, it quickly subsided, and you allowed yourself a moment to breathe, readying your next words carefully.

"What would your mother think of the way you speak?" you were quick to spit in his face, acutely aware of the danger you were putting yourself in, but strangely loving it, "have the women around you not civilised you? Not taught you manners? Or were you raised by wretched wolves?"

Slipping away from under him and past the tree, you had expected to make somewhat of a swift escape, but Gudrun grabbed you before you could even think, his entire hand encircling your arm, squeezing until you felt yourself going cold, a tear making its way down your cheek.

"So stubborn for such a pestilent whore," he returned the favour, spitting onto your cheek as he bared his teeth at you, almost growling, "so stupid. I was taught how to treat a woman, and I will show you-"

Before he could continue, the scene was disturbed by more galloping, and the unsheathing of a sword. You recognised the voice that you heard next to be Finan's, and you resented it.

"Gudrun, what the hell do you think you're doing? Is this what you call being a warrior?" He shouted, immediately dismounting from his horse, sword in hand. He looked at you, eyes swimming in concern for you, which you returned with a scowl. You hated that he had come to your aid, and what was worse, you could see Sihtric coming towards the three of you as well.

Normally, you would be happy to see the two of them, but not on this occasion. The three of you had become incredibly close as things had settled down. Before, they had always seemed too busy, but over the year they had sought your company more and more. But their attention meant a watchful eye was always on you. As Uhtred built his family, you thought you had escaped your scoldings, but to no avail, the two of them always had something to say.

And now they were saving you. As they always seemed to do when you were in trouble. It infuriated you; feeling so inferior to the both of them, hating the way they coddled you as though you were some sort of child. You wanted them to see you as a woman. The whole situation made you act in a way you weren't entirely proud of.

"Finan just leave this, I can handle myself," you yelled, feeling shame run through you as Gudrun still gripped you tightly, not allowing you to go anywhere as you pulled and thrashed, practically kicking him. You wanted to literally sink into the ground when you felt Finan's eyes on you. He stood in all his seriousness, but knowing that he would win this altercation with Gudrun, there was also a hint of amusement.

"I'd listen to the lady, Finan, just leave me with her tits and I'll be finished."

Sihtric, who until now had been quiet, looked at you disapprovingly, which only spurred you on further. You loved him at the best of times, but the feeling of inferiority was eating you alive. You kicked and scratched, watching as Gudrun's sword went from pointing to Finan to pointing at you, its sharp end slightly piercing your arm.

"You bastard!" you practically screamed, but it fell on deaf ears. Sihtric, always careful, stepped slowly to your left, as Finan moved to your right, dominating Gudrun's line of sight.

"Go on, Gudrun, go to Lunden, spend all your money on women as you always do, forget this one," Sihtric taunted, rendering your own words invisible as you saw how Gudrun reacted. It seemed as though you had lost your voice. You huffed, wriggling further in his grip, which caused his sword to pierce you even more, drawing blood.

Finan tutted, looking over the both of you to Sihtric, as though they shared an invisible sort of signal that had you torn from Gudrun in seconds. Now you felt yourself in Sihtric's arms, binding you to him. Finan wasted no time, stabbing Gudrun's leg, leaving him there. He whispered something in Gudrun's ear, most likely a warning not to come back , which you thought was wise.

Just as quickly as he had finished with Gudrun, Finan stormed over to you and Sihtric. You hated to admit that Sihtric's grip was warm and welcome, and relief had you practically melting into him, but you knew what was to come.

"How I've missed your childish insolence," Finan remarked, smiling despite your very obvious scowl. Sihtric, however, was more serious, tending to your arm as blood seemed to pour from it endlessly. "You were naive to think you could take him, Y/N, you should not have further endangered yourself." He was quiet, raising a cloth to your wound, pursing his lips as the fabric quickly soaked into a dark mess.

"I had no choice, what would you have me do? Let him take me right then and there?" you knew you were digging yourself a deeper hole, ripping your arm from Sihtric's grasp, letting the cloth he had been holding fall to the floor.

"You know what Sihtric means. You shouldn't have to reason with him, I know, let's just be glad the prick is passed out." Finan kicked the unconscious body of Gudrun, which rocked, but did not muster. Finan looked at you, sensing frustration. He understood you, that you had been placed in an impossible situation, but they had truly only wanted to help you.

The three of you had briefly explained to Uhtred why he would be missing a man from now on, and with that you avoided Sihtric and Finan like the plague for over a week, much to their mutual dismay.

Both Sihtric and Finan sat on a table outside of the ale house, Osferth off somewhere training whilst Uhtred had gone to help Gisela with the children. Left to their own conversation, which was usually a blessing to the both of them, they began to talk about you.

You who hadn't been seen leaving your own home in days other than to bathe or eat. You who used to wander so recklessly, spending days in fields and forests with whoever you could get to join you.

They missed you pestering them with silly questions of battle and fighting, how you observed them with awe when they told stories of their lives before they had met you. Your innocent eyes no longer lit up in front of them, bringing them a pure sense of life after days of death and destruction.

"I must have left my mind on the battlefield," Finan muttered, Sihtric responding with a quiet grin as he sipped on ale. He knew what Finan was saying; the two of them had gained somewhat of an understanding over the past few days, realising that they both had feelings for you.

"Just what the world needs," Sihtric responded, looking at Finan, "two men in love with the same woman who speaks to neither of them." They both chuckled, refusing to let such a thing come between them.

"Something needs to be done, we can't just sit here like miserable bastards." Finan spoke, giving Sihtric a knowing glance. Sihtric scowled as he usually did, wanting to act entirely irrationally but holding himself back for the sake of everyone in the village.

As if their prayers had been answered, you came stumbling out of your home not even seconds later, in full view of the ale house and the two men you sought. Sihtric and Finan, you mentally scoffed.

Your frustration had been brewing for an entire week now. How embarrassed you had been at your outburst, and at your rejection of Finan's help and Sihtric's aid. You were equally as furious at the constant prominence of men in your life. They were everywhere all at once, consuming you, believing they could take whatever they wanted from you.

But what was even more sickly was that you missed your two friends dearly. Playing stupid games of stones with Finan who laughed at the most utterly unfunny things, and Sihtric, ever the affectionate friend, always one step ahead to ensure your safety. You felt like a fool for not realising that you liked them. You really liked them.

You set your sights on the hall and the ale house, where you knew they would surely be, stomping over as if it were your birthright. Once you saw the two of them sitting outside, you recognised their smiles. Wanting to make that short lived, you struck the back of their heads at the same time, plonking down onto the bench nearest to them.

"Y/N-" Sihtric began, but you held up a finger in his face, wagging it infuriatingly.

"No. You must listen to me. I am thankful for what you did to help me with Gudrun, and I'm sorry I haven't reacted as though I were. I was merely upset that a man felt he could do such a thing to me, and that I couldn't do anything about it without help," you didn't even manage a breath as you continued, "I just don't want to be seen as some kind of incompetent fool that needs to be saved. And what makes it worse is that I wanted to teach you both a lesson by being independent, you slugs!'

"Y/N, breathe." Finan chastised, causing your eyes to widen.

"Shut up and let me finish!" you stomped your foot, aggravated by his pretty smile and the way he seemed to unconsciously reach for the hem of your dress to play with. Sihtric also amused you for a second, his expression one of deadly seriousness as he listened to you intently.

"There's more I could say, but I just think I'd rather we go back to normal," you huffed, slightly annoyed at their downcast expressions, "and against all of my judgements about men, I've found myself pining pathetically for the both of you."

"Well, sorry for inconveniencing you so much, lady." Finan smiled, simply thankful that you were back on speaking terms with them. Your anger sat well within him though, and they didn't want to take advantage of the moment, not when your point was very much valid.

"We will teach you to be a great warrior, Y/N," Sihtric smirked rather proudly, punching your arm, to which you responded with a slap and a request for ale. Looking down at your hands, you briefly missed the longing look that the two men gave you.

Another week had passed, and the two men still hadn't confessed to you of their true affections, but the three of you understood that there had been some sort of shift in your relationship. Uhtred had been called to and from King Alfred's company once or twice, leaving you absent of your friends for a few days.

This didn't bother you at all, in fact, you were somewhat relieved from the break. Gisela kept you busy, with walking and games that Beocca had gifted her, you had even swum once or twice with her, entirely free and content. But when she took up her motherly duties, you were free to roam as you pleased, ignoring all civilisation as you wandered further and further from the village.

It was hours later that you returned, feeling anything but fresh, with some cuts and bruises from when you had decided to climb up a tree to take an hour's rest. Much to your dismay, you were not very good at climbing trees.

You hadn't even been entirely sure where your brother and the others had been sent to, as they were constantly marching north and south for some reason, but you had not expected to see them all gathered in the centre of the village walls when you returned from your own rough excursion.

Uhtred ran to you, picking you up in a forceful hug, laughing at your state. "I see you do not know how to stay out of trouble, Y/N. You limp like a fat man!" His shining eyes were somehow swimming with both excitement and exhaustion, and you returned his affections, realising he most likely needed them.

"I see things went your way this time, Uhtred." you let him hug you for just a little longer, sensing he must have faced great struggle to be so affectionate towards you. "How was everything?"

"Fine, sister, fine. I faced nothing quite as fearsome as you." Uhtred allowed his fondness for you to take over him for a moment, glad to be reminded of home and family. You rolled your eyes, patting his shoulder and letting him return to his children.

The air caught in your throat when you finally saw both Sihtric and Finan, talking casually with a few other warriors in the corner. They were dirty, even bloody, furs and capes draped over their enormous frames, sharp faces laughing as they were finally free from duties for a little while longer.

Finan spotted you first, a smile growing on his face as his arms opened warmly to greet you. He had removed the straps clinging to him, so that his sword fell to the floor. You walked slowly towards them, head tilted to the side when you welcomed Finan's embrace, not wanting to say too much as you felt his grip tighten.

You opened your scrunched eyes briefly to see Sihtric next to the two of you, placing a gloved hand on your head, patting it slightly. You blushed at the way he looked at you, realising you had been staring slightly too long, and that Finan had been hugging you for a while now, chin resting on your head.

Finan took you in, your once clean dress swimming in mud and loose leaves. Your braids unravelling slowly, a tad of mud on your face. You looked like you had gone on the journey with them. But, as he stared into your wide eyes, he thought that you had never looked more beautiful.

"I missed the two of you," you finally spoke, words hanging in the air. Sihtric looked down, grabbing your hand and holding tightly. Finan busied himself by fiddling with your braid.

"We missed you. I swear I saw Sihtric cryin' at one point, poor rat was devastated to leave our weakness." Though he spoke in an amusing manner, his eyebrows remained firm, and his smile did not last. The tension was ripe.

"Hey, Finan was the one telling all the men about you. Uhtred nearly had to send him away," the Dane responded, lightening the tone, but confusing you even more. They had been talking about you as their weakness, missing you, and now they couldn't stop touching you in some small form. Why didn't they just do something?

You knew they were polite men in their own regard, and that it would be up to you to initiate something. But what you didn't know, is that once you did, there would never be any going back. The two men wanted you so desperately; they had been discussing logistically how two men could share one woman forever, and had come to the conclusion that they simply just would. Now they were bursting at the seams waiting for you to say you wanted it too. They needed your confirmation.

"You should both come to my home," you said to them, shuffling your feet in the direction of your house. Gisela had taught you a little something about seduction whilst the men had been away, and you wanted to be the one in control of the situation. For now, at least. "For food, I mean. And drink."

"I never knew you could be such a kind hostess, Y/N." Finan said, pulling Sihtric towards him. You scoffed, squinting your eyes at him which caused him to stick out his tongue, a slight chuckle from Sihtric.

They had been to your house plenty of times, even staying over sometimes with Osferth or even Uhtred when they wanted peace and quiet. But this time, something in the pit of your stomach told you it was going to be different. You trotted quickly as they prowled behind you, already knowing the way themselves.

You felt their eyes burning holes into the back of your head as you stood at your door, the two me hovering over you, heads above you. You fumbled a little with the door, sighing in frustration.

"Take your time." mumbled Sihtric, surprising you slightly. Your face burnt like molten lava, and you refused to look at them. The two men gave each other a knowing look, a sense of unfinished business hovering in the air.

Sihtric's words affected you more than you had realised, his soft, deep voice reverberating in your head. You felt a hand on your shoulder, unaware as to which of the men it belonged to, and before you could control your reaction, a minuscule whimper came shooting out of your mouth.

Thankfully, you managed to regain consciousness for the moment and opened the door, ignoring any consequences of the sickly noise you had just let out. Little did you know, the noise had stirred Finan's cock, and Sihtric had had to take a deep breath to control himself, nostrils flaring.

You were teasing them, and you had no idea. Soon realising you had actually promised them food, you decided to make good on that, telling them to sit down, where some meats and a little fruit and bread were waiting. You took a moment to breathe, unable to focus on anything but their figures as they passed you and made a point of touching you as they did.

After some normal chatter, you realised that they weren't eating. At first you thought the food you had brought to them was sour, but upon further inspection of them, you began to fidget in your seat. They were practically ogling you, Finan's eyes carrying a sort of apologetic lust, whilst Sihtric gazed at you as though he was drunk.

A shiver ran down your spine, which caused you to fidget even more, hands picking at your dress. This movement did not go unnoticed by Sihtric, who took this as the perfect opportunity to initiate what you were all clearly thinking,

"You are cold, Y/N, you should come closer," his lips parted, and he truly felt in this moment that the Gods had gifted him with some kind of angel, as you stared open-eyed at him. He felt himself getting impatient, reaching out to you with an open palm when you stood hesitantly, like some sort of animal trapped between wolves.

Finan seemed to enjoy this, stretching back into the chair as you made your way to Sihtric, accepting his hand, not entirely sure on what to do next. After a moment of lingering, Finan answered your prayers with a simple "Sit, Y/N."

Sihtric groaned when you finally placed yourself in his lap, staring into his dual-toned eyes, unable to keep his intimidating gaze for longer than a second. Though you knew in reality he was a sweetheart, in this moment, he seemed dangerous.

Before you could lower your chin, Sihtric gripped it with his rough fingers, forcing you back up to face him, his other hand sliding down to your backside. He did nothing for a moment, each movement incredibly slow.

Other than the crackling fire in the corner of the seating area, all was silent. You realised your braids had unravelled entirely now, wild hair hanging loosely around your face. You hadn't realised how close Finan was until you saw him behind you, standing above you and Sihtric, a tight grip on your loose hair forcing your face even higher. The way he looked down at you, eyebrows furrowing and seemingly glazed with lust, you almost couldn't take it.

"She likes this," Finan muttered, Sihtric humming in agreement. You gasped when the iron grip tightened, forgetting that you were in the presence of two of the greatest warriors in the realm. It turned you on to no end.

Sihtric took advantage of your open mouth, sliding a finger inside, the others holding your chin still. You sucked on the digit rather insatiably, to your own embarrassment, unable to be satisfied until it was soaked and you yourself were drooling onto his trousers. But just as the moment was getting good, as they always did, they found a way to chastise you.

This had been a long, long time coming.

"You must never ignore us like that again, lady," Finan said, "I mean, could you not have just spoken to us? I imagine that would have been a whole lot easier."

The patronising tone had you feeling mildly embarrassed, but the sickly sort of degradation came with sweet caresses, so you managed to forget your pride for a moment.

Instead, despite the grip in your hair and the fingers in your mouth, you nodded, moaning profusely as your eyes rolled back when Sihtric forced another finger in.

"I'd ask for a verbal answer, angel, but I see that probably won't happen." he observed sarcastically, finally loosening his hold for just a moment, your head lolling to the side, wanting to be closer to the both of them. You were rather ashamed of the mess they had turned you into in a matter of minutes.

The feigned sympathy on Sihtric's face was infuriatingly attractive, so much so that you found it within yourself to quickly nip his fingers as he was removing them from your mouth, earning a genuine smile and a strike to the thigh, which was now exposed as your dress had bunched up.

"We own you now, Y/N," Sihtric finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper, "We both own you. You are our woman to love." That was all the confirmation you needed.

As quickly as you could possibly manage, you were kissing Sihtric, barely remembering to breather as you moved rhythmically on his lap, lips disconnecting and soon returning to a forceful kiss with Finan. You were beside yourself, wild like some kind of animal as you felt Sihtric on your neck and Finan on your lips.

It was all too much, and the feeling in your arms seemed to give way, not helping your case as you began to push the both of them.

"What do you need, love?" Sihtric asked, entirely ready to give you everything you needed. If only you could find the words. You didn't answer as Finan worked some sort of sorcery on your neck, sucking and biting just where you felt the most sensitive. "I should not have to ask again."

Sihtric's eye contact became so strong that you immediately cowered, any snide comments you had exiting your brain for the moment.

"Please, please just do something, take me," you panted, Finan's subtle laughter doing nothing to stop your whining. With that, you were transferred into Finan's arms as Sihtric rose, removing unnecessary leathers and protection, leaving himself only in his tunic. Meanwhile, Finan so gracefully laid you down on the bed of furs, your head leaning against the headboard.

"My lady," he half joked, quick to join Sihtric in the removal of his clothing. You followed their lead, untying the laces at the back of your dress with great effort before letting it slide off, kicking it to the ground.

"God," Finan stood staring at you, at your breasts, watching as your skin reacted harshly to the cold. You were drowning in the furs around you, your naked body like some sort of holy piece that priests would surely covet. Sihtric was by your side in seconds, bare chest colliding with your own skin, ecstasy rushing through you.

"we shall have to keep you like this forever, lady." Sihtric wasted no time in fulfilling your pleas, fingers inside of you before you could react, so filling and long, reaching every crevice inside of you. The welcome intrusion was heightened by Finan's body on your other side, playing with your clit, rubbing over and over until the stimulation became unbearable.

A void inside of you had been entirely filled, and your two friends were now wrapping you slowly around their fingers. A part of you wondered what Uhtred would think, whether he would welcome the strange union or dismiss it altogether, but there was no time for that, not when Sihtric was pumping into you, whilst Finan methodically worked his fingers, making you scream.

"Poor thing," Finan drawled out, watching your trembling frame as if it was pure entertainment. "Should we give you what you want? I think we should." Without consulting you, he simply looked at Sihtric, who seemed to have different ideas.

"I don't think she deserves it, I think that temper needs to be controlled a little more." You flinched as his fingers curled inside of you. Finan gave you an apologetic glance, and you couldn't believe he was listening to Sihtric in this moment . . .

"But!-"

"No," Sihtric mumbled, and Finan saved himself from your glare by hiding his face in the crook of your neck, his finger's methodical patterns becoming slower and slower, delaying your release. You were becoming numb at this point.

"Perhaps things could change if you told us who you belonged to?"

You grunted as you were kept on the edge, feeling constant resistance, and unable to admit your feelings. That was until Finan pinched your clit, and Sihtric slapped your inner thigh, rubbing the red skin as he worked himself in and out of you slowly.

"mmfph"

"Who?"

"Sihtric," you breathed, "And Finan."

"Good," Finan moved now, quickening his pace on the outside whilst Sihtric also followed through on his promise, "good girl".

That was all you needed, the praise making your chest blister and ache. It was intoxicating, being able to come entirely undone beneath the two men, feeling them observe you, kiss you, worship you.

"Our turn now."

One of them mumbled. You weren't entirely sure, blinded by your orgasm, feeling muscles in your thighs twitch as your back arched off of the bed. Before you could even come down, You were flipped onto your stomach. The action was nothing to the two men, so strong they could barely feel the effect they had on you. They made you feel weightless.

Finan couldn't help himself, gripping your ass so tightly you felt like it would bruise. The skin ached when he gave it a small pinch, enjoying your jolt into Sihtric as he kneeled close to your face, petting your hair as he often did, except never in this context.

A kiss to your forehead drew you back into consciousness for the moment, but it did nothing to distract you from Finan's actions behind, his cock now trailing up and down your sex, an agitated grunt coming from the Irishman.

"Good god," Finan muttered, no longer uttering some quip or joke, instead relishing in the feeling of the both of you two against one another. Your softness did something to him, tore deep inside of him; a man so consumed with life of battle did not deserve something so pure, he thought.

On the other hand, Sihtric felt like a God himself. His thumb returned to your mouth, feeding the oral fixation you didn't know you had. "Will you take the both os us?" He taunted you, asking you questions while he filled your mouth. The thought of them both intimidated you, and you shuddered when Finan aligned himself with your entrance, slowly pushing in before you could even think.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chanted like a mad woman, drool slipping past your lips in excess amounts, pleasing Sihtric, whose thumb was soon replaced with his thick cock. It slid straight to the back of your throat, slowly beginning to match the pace of Finan's thrusts.

Though Finan was attempting to be gentle, he did not recognise his own strength, apologising out of habit when you squealed. The sound was muffled by Sihtric's cock, his pelvis now hitting your nose. Both men shared a look above you, in silent agreement, realising this is exactly what they wanted in life. You.

In all of Winchester, nothing had more of a pull to them like you did. Not even Uhtred's command would keep them away from you now.

"Fuck," Finan practically spat, his hips quickening their pace, his long cock coming inside and outside of you, feeling the tightness grip harder and harder until he was nearly coming.

Sihtric equally had his way with you, hand in your hair simply moving you as he pleased, loving the way your tongue lolled out to welcome his cock.

"You are so beautiful, lady." Finan moaned, head facing the sky as if in prayer. It did not take much longer before he was coming undone within you, cursing as he realised he had selfishly come before both you and Sihtric.

Sihtric gave one final stroke before he too came straight down your throat, a choke coming from you as he waited before moving out of you. He decided that he wanted to take you next.

"Swallow."

His final command had you tightening around Finan, disturbing him from his moment of meditation with great force. Gritting his teeth, Finan barely managed to keep his composure as he finally slid from you, both men letting you slump underneath them.

Exhaustion hit you with a sharp thump, and your eyes began to close before you could say anything to the two men above you. Your eyes glazed over as Finan turned you onto your back to face them. They towered over you, Finan smiling, assuring you he was only trying to help when he let go of you for a moment, going to fetch a rag.

"When can we bind you to this bed? I want to keep you here forever."

[turretistrying]

Infected/Zombie Reader helping RE men (Leon K., Carlos O., & Ethan W.)

Somewhat based on that one zombie reader post by @qdbs-writes because honestly it was really cute and this idea has been bouncing in my brain for a bit. I’m going to preface that I’ve only played RE2R, but I have a vague understanding of the RE lore and stories, i’m only doing these three because I know them the best, if I knew chris better I would’ve added him

(this is just a suggestion but here’s what’s damaged on your zombie body: right eye gone, right cheek crewed off, left shoulder nearly gone, and several bites all around)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE2)

You’re one of the many, many, people who fled to the RPD to escape the growing hoards of zombies, unfortunately you were infected early on and hid out in one of the many storage rooms as you succumbed to the virus

…but your conscious stays somewhat intact, sure every thought is slower and less verbose but you still have some of it left, speaking is hard as well but you can speak to some degree

you stay on the third floor, observing Marvin and eventually Leon once he comes in

You’re enamored as soon as you see him, so you decide to try and help him as he goes through the entire RPD, placing some ammo here, some boards there, in general helping out behind the scenes despite how slow you move

This slowness bites you when you go down to the main hall to place a green and red plant you had found next to the typewriter, since Leon had been limping for quite awhile around the RPD

You gently place the two plants (still in the containers, you can’t grind them up due to the shakiness in your zombified hands) but you hear Leon coming down from the second floor library so you try and shuffle back into a room to hide again, until you hear the click of his gun

You turn around and see Leon, gun raised to likely give you a headshot like he’s given to plenty of the other zombies around (you know since you’ve seen plenty bodies with exploded heads..)

So you just, start shuffling backwards with arms raised in peace, mumbling ‘sorry.. sorry.. please, no.. hurt’ as best you can with your undead voice, which comes out pretty rough

Leon was about to shoot you but as soon as he saw you back away and mumble what sounded like human speech and not just growls and rumbles, so he lowers his gun slightly, tilting his head at you

You escape into the west office, and Leon fully lowers his gun and then looks at the plants you left him (he uses them, he’s not an idiot to ignore a healing item when he’s been at ‘danger’ for 2 hours)

When Leon unlocks the Goddess statue you come out from hiding and softly approach, and hand him some ammo and healing items “good.. byye..” you say to him look at him with your singular eye (you lost the other one when you got infected) before starting to walk off

Leon watches you walk away, about to hide again and he hesitates before saying “Wait, would you… like to come with me?”.

He watches you turn slightly and grumble “..you.. sure?”

He nods at you and you walk back up to him, and follow him as he goes down the stairs

Bonus:

During the G-3 fight you help by throwing yourself at him and stab one of the eyes with a knife Leon gave you, smiling in triumph when you stab an eye fully

Ada is very cautious and nearly shoots you several times, she thinks you’re just in the early stages of infection and she doesn’t want you killing her pawn (leon) before he gets the virus for her

When you get on the train Claire and Sherry are a bit wary of you but during the trip they start to like you, Leon’s account helps a lot as well

Carlos Oliveria (RE3)

Similar to Leon’s, you’re one of the people who fled to the RPD and got infected, and hid in a storage room (this storage room was clearly for all the Christmas decor… the bells gave it away)

You picked off the bells and kept them in a small box, as well as stealing post-it notes and a pen from the west office

From the second floor you watch Carlos and Tyrell make their way in, watching them scope out the place

As soon as you saw Carlos, you muttered under your breath “he..h.. scruffy..”

You noticed he was having a hard time with the Lickers, so you decided to make use of the bells you took, throwing them down hallways out of sight of Carlos so the Lickers chased the noise

He heard the chiming, making a remark like “The hell is that coming from?”

After awhile of doing this, you decided to just gift Carlos the bells

You place them on a desk with the brightest sticky note you could find

He finds it, noticing the stark contrast of the gloomy environment of the RPD, and reads the note

‘For the licks! Hold tighy in hnd then throw, it loud so they chse! : )’ was written on the note, it was hard to read being a shaky and messy handwriting but he got the general idea, chuckling at the squiggly smily face on it

He opens and sees 4 tiny golden bells

He looks around, hoping to maybe find who put it there but finds nothing, nothing but a hunched over dead (?) zombie next to the desk “Whoever put this here, Thanks, and thanks for probably being the reason for saving my ass a few times”

He leaves and you say to the air “no.. problemmm..!”

You start following him around and so he eventually notices you, and nearly shoots you on the spot before you move your hand to ring the golden bell you kept and attached to a string as a necklace

He relaxes a bit but keeps his guard up until he realizes that you’re just an innocent smart (questionable) zombie!

Bonus:

Before realizing that you weren’t gonna hurt him, he really thought you were because you kept staring up at his head… In reality you just really wanted to pet his hair, but because words are hard when you’re a zombie and you didn’t wanna get shot you just didn’t say anything

(You eventually did get to touch his hair, muttering a “soooft.. so.. soooft!”)

In that helicopter cutscene when Nicholai is about to shoot Jill, you jump from nowhere and tackle the guy by the neck; Carlos shouts in exclamation “Hell yeah! Get him!” before Nicholai punches your jaw right off (ouch)

Ethan Winters (RE7)

In this case you’re kinda like Ethan if he didn’t get all his memory and body transferred (does.. does that make sense???)

Since the moment Ethan stepped into the Baker House, you’ve been watching him

While you can’t remember most of your past, you know you were human like him, and watching him brings you a sense of… comfort. So you watch as he explores the house, trying to find Mia

Sometimes you forget what you’re doing and make noise, making Ethan more paranoid as he goes through the house (you felt bad every time you accidentally spooked him)

Watching him getting attacked by Mia was a nightmare, and you felt like you shouldn’t intervene… until Mia stabbed him in the hand

You emerged from the shadows (and mold..) and pulled her off of Ethan, giving a soft growl at her before she tried to attack you. You sidestepped and pushed her into the wall, which caused her to knock her head against the wall and faint

You stared down at her before turning to Ethan, who was a bit put off by your appearance

“You’re… hurt. Follow.” and you start walking to where a first aid liquid was hidden away and hand it to him

After patching him up you go over to the boarded up door and started to remove the wood with ease, before Mia got back up and threw Ethan through the nearly open door. You yelp (with some scratchiness) at that before running up to try and help, but then Ethan swung an axe into her neck.

You look at him and see the horror in his eyes at what he’s just done, you reach out to touch his back before slightly withdrawing; “you… oo-kay?” You asked in a low voice, and he shook his head before standing up and making his way deeper into the house, fully ignoring you after that.

So you follow, wanting to make sure he’s okay. He’s the only thing human in this house (for now)

Then Mia comes back again, of course, stabbing Ethan in the hand with a screwdriver this time. You run up and start trying to pry it out of the wall and his hand, before you see Mia coming with a chainsaw. She slashes with the chainsaw, cutting you in half at the shoulder before hitting Ethan’s wrist.

You blackout for awhile, coming to after about an hour as your body of mold stitches itself back together into one solid form again

Submerging into the mold, you reform in the living room adjacent to the nightmare dining room, seeing the back of Ethan tied in one of the chairs

You carefully untie him from the chair, before being noticed Marguerite pulled you up by the hair unto the table

You reach into a clump of mold and pull a smoke bomb before pulling Ethan out of the chair and away

From there on you helped him the best you could

Bonus:

You alway try and take the hits for him, he’s still fleshy and human, you can take it! He’s still worried for you despite the fact you can patch yourself back together.

When Ethan dies and becomes mold, you feel bad for him. You don’t tell him, since if he thinks he’s still human, then he’s still human to you.

After the BSAA comes you don’t know what to do, you assume you’re going to be left there or be experimented on… but Ethan calls your name (that you told him at some point, it’s one of the only things you have left from before being molded) and gestures you to come with him, you come close before fearfully looking at Chris, but he just nods and lets you on the helicopter.

OKAY WOW this is… something. I don’t know. I kinda gave up in that last one despite Ethan being my favorite next to Leon. I really hope, that this is good, im some way, amd i hope i didnt totally screw the canon, ahhh. Hope people like thissss,,, would’ve done art but i’ve got art block

[silverskye13]

I vaguely remember something about Helsknight going to confessions? I’m interested as to why and what he confesses to :3

Hi, this has been in my inbox for a hot minute, but it got me thinking, and I kept thinking so. Have a snippet.

_____________________

Please read the tags for the TW list!

_____________________

The Confession room for the followers of the Saint of Blood and Steel was exactly the same room they trained and dueled in. The only difference was, at a certain time of day, on two specific days of the week, there was a little white sign on the doors that said "Confession Open." There was almost always a line. Only one person was allowed in the confessional at a time. There was no law or order or rule that dictated everyone wait in silence, but there was something particularly embarrassing humbling about standing in a line of armed and armored knights, all waiting patiently for god to slap them on the wrist.

The door opened. A knight exited with her head held high, though Helsknight noticed she clutched her arm a little too close to her body. She walked past the line down the hall, to the little room on the left where the pleasant and somewhat dissonant smell of baked goods warmed the air. The line shuffled forward a step.

The wait was long, and awkward, occasionally broken by stilted small talk, and the lethal sounds of mail and blade, and the scuffing of boots. Helsknight had gotten into the habit of bringing something to read while he waited. It gave him a good excuse not to make prolonged eye-contact with anyone, and he had grown bored of making shapes out of the mosaic tiles ages ago. He could only look at the same repeating pattern so many times before he realized they all looked vaguely like a dog lifting a leg to pee, and thinking about bodily functions while waiting in a long line was a great way to convince himself to leave the line. Then the chances of him getting home in a timely manner after his confession [or really going to confession at all] dropped exponentially.

The door opened. A young knight limped two steps down the hall before a priest, waiting at a nearby bench for expressly this purpose, dashed over and put the knight's arm around his shoulders. The knight muttered a wincing thanks, and together they limped down the hall to that same, sweet-smelling room. As soon as they turned the corner out of the main hall, the knight let out a loud curse, and there was the heavy sound of someone collapsing into a convenient chair. The line shuffled forward a step.

A twitchy squire standing in line in front of Helsknight stared at the door wide-eyed, and then forward to the confessional sign, which they regarded with the same blatant fear as someone confronting their own noose. Helsknight looked down at the little book he was holding, sighed, and decided to show a little mercy. He was at confession, after all.

"The Saint isn't cruel," Helsknight told them softly, and just the sound of his voice startled them nearly out of their boots. "Whatever your penance is, it will never be beyond your means."

The squire flashed him what was probably supposed to be a nervous smile, but which looked a lot more like a grimace. "What if I've fucked up really badly?"

Someone in the line coughed inconspicuously. Someone else cleared their throat. Helsknight fixed the young squire with a measuring gaze, and came to the conclusion this nervy kid had probably never "fucked up really badly" a day in their life. Though he supposed he'd been wrong before.

"You could start your penance early," Helsknight said, reigning in his sarcasm as much as physically possible, "by maybe not swearing in church."

The inconspicuous cougher down the line let out a much more conspicuous snort. The squire clapped their hands over their mouth and stared up at him in horror. Helsknight sighed and pinched the space between his eyes.

"Swearing isn't against our tenets."

The hallway murmured into a soft chorus of "Amens" and "Praise the gods" and one particularly ambitious "thank fuck." A few of the knights signed various salutes and benedictions to the Saint. The squire visibly relaxed.

"It's respectful not to," Helsknight continued after the murmured din died down. "Show the Saint your contrition by respecting Their home. Is your sword sharp?"

The squire seemed a bit taken aback by this sudden change in conversation topic. They unsheathed their sword a bit, showing a dull iron blade. "Uhm... it could stand to be sharper."

"You bring your kit with you?"

The squire sighed and rolled their eyes, more from disappointment at a new chore than any real defiance. They unsheathed their sword, dropped a large messenger bag off their shoulder, and started rifling through their things. The air was soon filled with the sound of whetstone on blade. Someone behind Helsknight tapped him on the shoulder. She pointed to the squire, then to Helsknight, and offered an approving thumbs-up. Good job on distracting the scared kid. Helsknight shrugged and held out his book, flashing the title in her direction. Everyone needs a distraction in this stupid line. She rolled her eyes, tell me about it, and moved her cloak to the side, showing off a little satchel with what looked to be art supplies. Helsknight smirked.

The door opened. A knight came striding out, running a stressed hand through his hair. He started to walk past the little door at the end of the hall, but a priest came dashing out to stop him before he could make it too far. They whispered amongst each other for a moment, heads bowed close together to keep their conversation private. The priest looped a consoling arm around the knight's shoulder, and together they walked slowly into the little room. The line shuffled forward a step.

No one ever stayed inside the confessional for long. Fifteen minutes, twenty. Once or twice someone dipped closer to a half hour. Then the door would open, and the line would shuffle. Helsknight had made it through about a chapter and a half of his book [an epic poem about the deeds of one of the Saint's paladins. He brought it to keep himself in a "contrite mood", whatever the hels that was] when finally it was the squire's turn to step inside. They bundled up their gear, offered Helsknight their bravest grimace-that-was-probably-a-smile, and walked inside.

The knight behind him asked politely, "Is that your squire?"

"No."

"Ah. Just being nice then?"

Helsknight offered an indifferent shrug. "It's everyone's first confession once."

She turned this somewhat nonsensical statement over for a moment, shrugged her agreement, and went back to sketching.

Time passed. The squire exited the doors with a relieved look on their face, though they clutched their right hand beneath their arm as though afraid to look at it. Helsknight sighed, closed his book, and stepped inside. The door closed behind him with a heavy click.

The room wasn't so much dark as it was simply not as bright as the hallway outside. Beside the door was a small table, and Helsknight turned and made use of it, setting down his book, then unbuttoning his tabard. He knew whoever was taking his confession today would be nearby, ready to help him doff any armor, but he wore mail today specifically so he could slip it on and off, without having to worry about all the buckles and clips that came with chest plates and grieves. When he'd relieved himself of everything he wore or carried, besides his leggings and his unsheathed sword, he walked towards the center of the fighting ring.

A knight in full plate stood in the ring's center, a great sword planted tip-down into the dirt between their feet. The sword was simple steel, as was the armor. No enchantment or ornamentation decorated the surface. There was no plume on the closed helm. They were the image of the Saint, an unremarkable warrior, all silent strength.

Helsknight knelt at their feet, laying his sword gently between them. He sighed out a long breath.

"I come to the Saint to be shriven," Helsknight said as deferentially as he could, in the face of an often repeated task. "By Their steel, and by my blood."

The confessor nodded. "Speak your confession, brother."

Helsknight winced, and barely stifled a groan. "It's always you, isn't it, Blade?"

The confessor let out a heavy sigh. "Come on man, this is supposed to be anonymous."

"Not my fault you talk like that."

"Heh? Talk like what?"

"Exactly."

The two fell into awkward silence, Helsknight probably much more awkward than Blade. He took a bracing breath.

"I... Come to confess the sin of Wrath."

There was a long pause.

"Again."

"This is normally where I ask what you did, and why," Blade said witheringly, "but it was plastered all over the broadsheets this morning."

Helsknight pinched the space between his eyes.

"If it makes you feel any better, I gotta agree with the West Side Tabloid. He had it coming." Blade said, leaning a little too nonchalantly on his greatsword. "You don't just call someone a coward like that. It's violence theater. If you bring real honor into it, you're begging for trouble."

"I... Agree."

"So, you lashed out in anger and got blood all over the nice Colosseum sand." Blade continued. "You lost your temper, but you were defending your honor. And I wouldn't even call it all that cruel. It's not like you tortured him or anything."

"Am I being pardoned?"

"Depends," Blade said, in a casual tone that suddenly didn't seem wholly his own. "Where else have you vented your Wrath, brother?"

Helsknight licked his teeth, as though he expected them to taste like blood. "I... attacked a thief today. He stole from me, and I was in my right to defend that."

"But you harmed him past self defense," Blade prompted, when the silence stretched long.

"If he hadn't escaped me, I would have." Helsknight paused, and added. "I had wanted to."

"Wanting isn't the same as doing," Blade offered charitably.

"I would not have stopped myself."

"Has Wrath consumed your life in any other ways, brother?"

"My hermit."

Blade nodded solemnly.

"We fought recently. I won. It was unprovoked. I was having a bad morning, and I needed -- I wanted to take it out on him. So I did."

"Have you asked forgiveness from the people you've harmed, in your sin of Wrath, brother?"

"No."

"Have you attempted any restitution?"

"No."

Very suddenly, the greatsword in Blade's hand was sheathed in red. It was light, bright and scouring, and it filled the air with the taste of blood. Even knowing it would happen, Helsknight flinched at the sight of it. His hair stood on end, and the air seemed charged, like the breath before a lightning strike. The Saint, alive and present, glimpsed for a moment through Blade. The confessor-turned-paladin tilted his head back slightly, and Helsknight knew if his face weren't covered in the helm, his eyes would be red, brimming with bloody tears.

In a voice that was Blade's, and something past him, empowered by faith, brutal and scouring, the Saint said, "Stand, and pick up your sword."

Helsknight did as he was bidden. His heart fluttered a little too fast in his chest, and while his hands did not shake, they felt near to it, unsteady. Helsknight was one of the best fighters to have ever crossed the Saint of Blood and Steel's threshold. If he were simply fighting Blade, there was a decent chance he'd win, though Blade had been his match many times before.

He was not only fighting Blade, though.

"As a knight of the Saint's order," Blade and the glimpse of the Saint beneath said, "you swore to uphold Their tenets, even in the face of great adversity. By raising your sword, not in Their wrath, but your own, you break that tenet."

Blade let out a breath, like someone barely keeping their head above water. Helsknight wondered if that was what being a paladin in the service of a Saint felt like: held under water, drowning under divine will.

"Yet Their order teaches that even the Saint is fallible, and once, Their will was driven, not by divine purpose, but by reckless bloodshed. As They were once challenged, now They challenge you. Do you accept?"

Helsknight didn't have to accept. This part had been emphasized a lot when he joined and took his first confession. Anyone was allowed to deny the Saint's trial and simply accept their penance. The penance wouldn't change. There was no incentive for, or against, besides maybe his own personal need to prove he really was in the wrong. Maybe it was pride made him accept every time. Maybe it was spite. Or, maybe, it was simply the need to punish himself for the lack of control he felt.

Solemnly, Helsknight nodded.

"Then Pick Up Your Sword, and Smite Me."

That was all the warning Helsknight was given. Blade, or the Saint, or the Saint's Will, or all three together, lunged.

It did not take long. By the third swing, Helsknight's blade was sent crashing from his hand, though he met the Saint's blade with all the strength and mastery he could muster. Losing to the Saint was an indescribable thing. It wasn't like losing a match in the Colosseum, or like losing a duel against Blade when they sparred. It was like an ant scratching at the heels of a giant, a kitten swatted aside by the massive claws of a dragon. If he swung his sword at a wall, at least there was the smallest chance the stone would chip. There was no chance in this. There was only the token effort of the attempt, one clash, then two, then three, and then his sword was gone from his hand. Blade slammed a palm into his chest, and Helsknight was on his back, gasping for breath, having crumpled so quickly he hardly had time to register he was watching the ceiling.

"By the divine right of contest, brother, Their will is done," Blade, The Saint, both and neither, said. Helsknight laid on his back and waited, catching his breath. "Hold out your sword hand."

A jolt of fear lanced through Helsknight then. He hated, he feared, hand wounds. It was an odd folly of his that he'd never been able to shake. Blade knew it. The Saint probably knew it. It felt unfair to punish him with it, or cruel.

Helsknight closed his eyes, and he stared down the scared little squire in his head.

[The Saint isn't cruel. Whatever your penance is, it won't be beyond your means.]

And then, for good measure, as he offered his right hand forward, [you deserve this.]

The cut was quick and clean. The blade was supernaturally sharp. The wound took time to hurt. Still, Helsknight's head spun. His breath came too quickly in his chest. Blade had to repeat himself twice when he asked for Helsknight's other hand. Then his vision tilted more, stars blooming in burst around his peripherals, edged in black.

When he found himself again, Blade had carried him to the table and rested him there, and stood bandaging his hands. His own hands were shaking, every shudder sending a jolt through Helsknight's arm. Helsknight turned this observation over distantly, curious in the way of the desperate, clinging to small details to better make sense of the world. Blade didn't normally shake when they did these sessions. Maybe he, too, had objected to wounding Helsknight's hands.

"Sorry... About that," Blade stammered hoarsely. "It's... You haven't made restitution. And it's a problem you keep having."

Helsknight didn't trust himself to speak, so he nodded.

"It's not bad," Blade said, trying to reassure both of them. "No muscles or tendons or anything. It was just a lot of blood."

"Yes," Helsknight said airily, still a little too unrecovered to explain the blood hadn't been the problem. Not really. Not that it needed explaining.

"Go see the priests down the hall," Blade informed him needlessly. "You need stitches, especially near the veins on your wrists. They need to heal naturally. Over time, as penance for your Wrath. You may lessen your time through acts of service to the church, if you so choose."

Helsknight nodded.

"Do you need help walking?"

Helsknight blinked slowly, his sluggish, shocked mind slowly crawling to life.

"Helsknight," Blade said, putting a still-gauntleted hand against his face. The cold metal felt good against his feverish skin. "Are you hearing me?"

"I hear you," Helsknight said, ashamed of how weak and small his voice sounded. "I need help with my mail.'

"Maybe we should make sure you can walk first?"

"Every other knight walks into this room and back out again fine," Helsknight said, his pride slowly crawling to life in his chest. "I just... I just need some help."

Blade, as much as a man obscured by a full suit of armor could, looked relieved. He nodded, and after a few moments of coddling, they managed to get Helsknight on his feet and dressed again. He squared his shoulders and walked with purposeness down the hall, his vision only swimming a little. The spiteful little animal in him wanted to keep walking until he was home, and he almost did. But a priest ducked her head out the door of the room at the end of the hall, and fixed him up in a concerned stare, and Helsknight, tired in body and soul, followed her inside.

The little room held tables and chairs, and a counter brimming with freshly made breads and rolls. Sweet things, prepared in advance of confession for those who might've lost too much blood, or for those who needed something soft and warm to take the edge off their penance. Helsknight allowed himself to be guided to a seat. The priest who had pulled him in checked over the hasty bandages, let out a disapproving tsk! and began organizing some supplies. She was joined by two other priests who began quietly discussing the best way to go about his stitches. Someone put a slice of some freshly baked something-or-other in front of him, and Helsknight ate it with the mechanical necessity of someone who recognizes a chore that needs doing.

Months later, Helsknight and Tanguish sat at a fountain outside the First Church of Hels, their breakfasts in their laps. Helsknight ran a thumb self-consciously along the odd, thin, centipede-like scar that danced from the center of his palm down his forearm. Tanguish must have noticed, because he asked, "How did you get that one?"

Helsknight turned his wrist so Tanguish could get a better look. "Lost my temper at something."

Tanguish ran a gentle finger across the misshapen skin, his touch cool and soothing. "It looks like it hurt."

Helsknight shrugged. "Not as bad as you'd think. It hurt more when they took the stitches out. S'why it looks like that."

Tanguish yanked his hand away like the scar had come alive and bitten him. "Why didn't you just drink a health potion?"

Helsknight chose his words carefully. "I needed to remember it."

Tanguish grimaced and allowed, "You... are very scary when you lose your temper." He reached out a hand to run his fingers tentatively along the scar again, as though he could somehow heal the long-passed harm. "You've gotten a lot better though."

Helsknight shrugged.

They returned to their prospective breakfasts, Helsknight eating with much less enthusiasm than his companion. He wished Tanguish didn't have such a preference for baked goods and sweet foods. They reminded him too much of that long hallway, and that door at the end of it -- and how long it'd been since he last stood there and waited to meet his Saint. Helsknight resolved to visit again when he got the chance. Just as soon as he ordered his list of sins. He remembered when he fought the Demon, sighed, and quietly put Wrath in its place at the top of the list.

[hongcherry]

pretty please (be a perfect night) || c.sc

You and Seungcheol celebrate your one-month anniversary; however, a guest from the past makes an unexpected appearance.

💞 Pairing: boyfriend!Seungcheol x Reader (f)

💞 Rating/Genres/AUs: NC-17; Fluff, tad of angst; Established relationship, Pretty Please Couple

💞 Warnings: Name-calling not in bed (bitch), pet names (Cherry, baby, babe), referred to as girl, reader has she/her pronouns, some suggestive content, mentions of sleeping around and family troubles, reader wears cheol's clothes and has "fancy" nails

💞 Word Count: 3.7k

💞 Timeline: Between "(stay with me)" and "(rid your worries)"; Mostly can be read as a standalone but does have some vague references to past parts

💞 Author's Note: Based on this ask! Thank you for the idea. I love seeing people enjoy reading this couple ^-^ Apologies for the long wait! I wrote this a few days later, but then I kept editing and adding more stuff so it ended up being longer than planned fkjbgfdk starting off the new year with this couple feels right 💖

pretty please masterpost | seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

Seungcheol’s hand rests on your thigh, drawing random shapes on your exposed skin. Dim street lights pass by, and you get lost in the repetition.

You had never thought you were a person to celebrate the smaller couple anniversaries, but here you are.

It’s been one month since you and Seungcheol decided to be a couple. A month of affection and care you’re not used to, but it’s a nice change. You insisted you were fine doing something less extravagant for your one-month anniversary, however, Seungcheol refused. He made a dinner reservation at one of the fancier restaurants in town and didn’t give you a chance to decline.

Despite not wanting a formal celebration, you’re glad Seungcheol cares about what you two have so wholeheartedly.

When Seungcheol pulls into a parking spot, you finally turn to him.

He’s already looking at you with a handsome smile. His hair is styled to show the middle of his forehead while strands of his hair frame his face. You can’t believe you ever thought his looks were mediocre.

“You ready to go, Cherry?” he asks.

You nod, reaching for the door, but Seungcheol squeezes your thigh to stop you. You peer at him in confusion.

“You know better,” he says with a small frown.

“Babe,” you sigh, recalling how he likes to open the door for you. Sometimes he’ll let you do it without a fight, but tonight is not one of those times.

“This is a proper date. I want to get the door for you,” he explains.

Relenting, you drop your hand into your lap. “Okay.”

He smiles, then makes his way to your side of the vehicle. He opens the door and holds out a hand. You take it, carefully stepping out and double-checking you have your purse.

“You look incredible, baby,” he murmurs as he stares at you.

You tuck your head down with a smile wide in appreciation. “Thanks.”

He chuckles at your bashfulness. After shutting and locking the door, he leads you to the entrance.

As you near, you say, “You look really nice, too, Cheol. Is this a new suit?”

You pause in your trek to raise a hand to his chest, fingers grazing the material in wonder.

Seungcheol glances at his attire. It’s an all-black suit paired with a checkered-pattern tie. On the left lapel is a Chanel broach.

“No, but I rarely wear this,” he explains. “I had to wear the best for you.”

“Well, I’m honored,” you smile.

Seungcheol covers your hand that’s on his chest with his, giving it a squeeze while he leans in to kiss your head.

As expected, he holds the front doors open for you and takes care of checking you both in. He keeps one hand on you as you follow the waiter to your table. When you arrive, he pulls the chair out and helps you get situated.

You’re a little shy about being treated in such a way, but you know it makes Seungcheol happy.

“You know what I’ve noticed?” he asks while taking his own seat.

You pick up the menu and hum in response.

Seungcheol lowers your menu, so you’re looking at him.

“You get nice when you’re nervous,” he chuckles softly.

You roll your eyes and wiggle the menu from his hold.

“I’m not nervous,” you protest.

Seungcheol smiles. “It’s okay that you are. I’m a little nervous too.”

Your eyes meet his. He leans back in his chair and opens his own menu. His gaze is wandering over the courses with no sign of jitters in sight.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

Seungcheol looks at you. “You don’t believe me, Cherry?”

A shake of your head.

“I’ve taken the prettiest girl I know on a date; she’s dressed so beautifully that it’s hard not to stare. And she’s looking at me with these eyes that make my heart do weird things,” he speaks slowly and earnestly, sitting straighter.

“I want this night to go well, so yes, I’m nervous.”

“C-Cheol,” you say in a whisper.

He just smiles, showing off his dimples and making your heart rate spike.

Seungcheol doesn’t normally say these things unless he’s teasing you.

You want to tell him he makes you feel as though you’re his number one. As if he’ll run a thousand miles just to get to you. You want to say he’s treating you so well that you’re falling harder for him. He’s put so much thought and effort, not only in the planning but his appearance, that you don’t want to mess it up somehow.

The way he’s gone all out for this date is making you feel both cherished and guilty. Cherished because none of your other boyfriends ever took the relationship so seriously, and guilty because you don’t feel you deserve it.

“Order whatever you want, babe,” he finally breaks the silence. There’s a small smile on his lips as if he’s proud to have rendered you speechless. He’s not upset you haven’t said anything, nor did he expect you to. The look on your face tells him enough. He understands your affection comes in the form of actions. Granted, so does his most of the time, but tonight, he wants you to know how he really feels.

When the waiter comes back, you order your drinks and meals. You’re surprised to see Seungcheol ordering a lot of food, some you figure is for you since you didn’t order much—not because you didn’t like any of the options but because a lot of it is expensive.

“I have a gift for you,” Seungcheol announces once the waiter leaves.

You’re sipping your drink and nearly choke on it from shock. The guilt grows in your chest when you realize you didn’t buy him anything. You didn’t even think to get a gift.

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” you say.

“I know,” he replies and retrieves something from his suit pocket.

It’s a black rectangular box. He places it on your end of the table, staring at you expectedly.

You grab the box and open it carefully. Inside is a rhinestone necklace with several cherries dangling from it. For some, all the bling might be gaudy. To you, it’s stunning.

“Wow,” you say and graze your fingers over the accessory.

“Is it too much?” Seungcheol asks, worry in his voice.

You shake your head.

“It’s so pretty. Thank you, Cheol,” you smile and look at him.

“I know you already have one on, but do you wanna,” he trails off.

You touch the necklace you’re already wearing as if to confirm he’s right. “Oh,” you murmur.

When you dress, you ensure every part of your fit matches perfectly. From the shoes to the layers to the accessories, you’re particular with how you style. So, when Seungcheol asks if you want to exchange jewelry, your first reaction is to be hesitant.

The necklace is beautiful, but you’re nervous about switching it when you haven’t tried everything together.

Seungcheol’s shoulders sag ever so slightly at your silence.

“No worries,” he forces a smile. “Forget I asked.”

He averts his gaze to glance around the restaurant.

You frown upon seeing his sad expression. He’s doing a good job hiding his disappointment, but you’re watching him so attentively that you can see it.

“Baby,” you call out softly.

“Hm?” he hums, glancing at you briefly.

You reach a hand across the table to cover his. “Will you help me put it on?”

Seungcheol gives a small smile, lips pressed together. “You don’t—”

“I can’t put it on because of my nails,” you explain. “So, will you help me?”

Seungcheol eyes you for a moment. He gets a feeling you don’t really want to wear it.

With a silent sigh, you remove your hand from his and reach behind your neck to unlatch your necklace. You struggle to unclasp the hook, fingers slipping from the clasp too quickly for you to slide the connecting end away.

Seungcheol stands, makes his way behind you, then replaces your hands with his.

He’s silent as he takes off the jewelry and sets it on the table gently. He grabs the cherry necklace, wrapping it around your neck carefully and securing the ends. The cold metal makes you shiver for a second. You didn’t realize it would fit more like a choker, but it’s nice to have variety in your wardrobe.

Seungcheol’s fingers linger on your skin before he sits back down.

“How does it look?” you wonder with a smile.

“Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he says without a doubt.

You glance in your lap and then look at him again. “I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol tilts his head. “What for?”

“For hesitating.”

He smiles, the same closed-mouth one, but it looks more genuine now.

“I shouldn’t have put you on the spot. Do you want me to take it off?”

“No,” you answer quickly. “I want to keep it on.”

He nods. “I think it suits you well, Cherry.”

“I think so too,” you reply.

Although you haven’t seen yourself fully with it on, it should be fine paired with your simple yet elegant dress.

Soon the tension dissipates, and you both fall into a casual conversation.

The waiter comes back and informs you that it’s taking longer than usual for your meals. Seungcheol doesn’t look pleased momentarily, but he puts on a friendly appearance soon after.

As an apology, the waiter comes back with a complimentary bottle of champagne.

“This just means I get to spend more time with you dressed up,” you say as Seungcheol pours you both a glass.

He peeks at you and sighs. “That’s a good way of putting it.”

“This doesn’t ruin anything,” you reassure, knowing he’s upset that there’s a hiccup in what he hoped would be a perfect date.

Seungcheol nods and hands you your filled glass.

“To being happy,” he says, raising his glass.

You grin at his small toast. It’s nice to know you make him as happy as he makes you.

“To being happy,” you repeat, then clink glasses.

You watch Seungcheol over the rim of your glass as you take a sip, smiling as you make eye contact.

“Good?” he asks.

You nod and place the drink down.

“I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom,” you inform and slide your chair back.

“Okay,” he says.

Seungcheol watches as you leave, eyes a little more focused than necessary to make sure you get to the restrooms safely. It’s only when you round the corner that he tears his gaze away.

He pulls his phone out and starts scrolling through social media to bypass the time.

“Seungcheol?” a hesitant voice calls in front of him a minute later.

He snaps his gaze up, something about the voice ringing familiarity.

A woman dressed in a long dress stands across the table. Her hair is neatly pulled from her face and a small handbag is in one of her hands. She looks different from the last time he’s seen her.

“Hajun?” Seungcheol asks, shocked.

She grins widely.

“It is you,” she breathes out a sigh of relief. “Not that you look much different, but I thought I was seeing things.”

He hums, an uneasy feeling in his chest.

The last time he spoke to her was at your senior fashion show. Numerous calls and texts from her went ignored; especially, when he found out what she had said to you outside that bathroom on campus. Even now, he can’t stop thinking about her words. The very untrue, and vile words.

“Can I sit real quick? I feel bad with how things ended between us.”

Seungcheol glances behind her. He doesn’t see you and hopes you take your time. He’s sure she’s the last person you want to see.

“Yeah,” he replies.

She nods and takes a seat.

“Look, I’m sorry for how I acted in college. I know it hasn’t been long, but a lot can change in a month.”

“Like?” he ponders.

“For starters, remember that company I really wanted to work for? I got hired there!” she beams. “There are some really nice people helping me improve my skills.”

“That sounds great, Hajun,” Seungcheol congratulates.

“It is,” she smiles. “So, are you doing a business deal or something? I saw you work for Attacca now.”

“I do, but that’s not why I’m here tonight,” he replies.

“Oh,” she says, a little surprised. “Then, why are you dressed up so nicely? You used to only dress like this when we had presentations or something of the sort.”

Her gaze flickers across his body, taking in his nice suit.

“I’m on a date,” he answers plainly, not having any desire to disclose with whom.

Her eyes widen. “Really? Me too!”

This time, it’s Seungcheol’s turn to look shocked.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she laughs. “I’m not totally undesirable.”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “It’s not that, I just…”

Hajun smiles. “I’m just messing with you. Like old times, remember?”

Seungcheol hums. Although Hajun was never nice to you, she always treated him kindly. Sure, she was a gossiper, but nothing came out of it. Not until you came along. Perhaps he just never saw her with the people the gossip was about.

“So, if you’re on a date, does this mean you got over Yn?” she wonders. He gets the impression that she always assumed his liking toward you was temporary. As if Hajun was just waiting for his “phrase” to pass.

Seungcheol’s hands close in fists beneath the table. The conversation was bearable until now. Now, he dreads to hear what Hajun has to say. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened months ago.

“You’re still thinking of her?” he asks, trying to divert the question.

She shrugs. “Not really, but seeing you reminded me how infatuated you were. I mean, you did ditch me for her.”

She laughs, but it feels forced as if she’s trying to hide how upset she is.

Seungcheol purses his lips. “You know why I ditched you, Hajun.”

“I told you I was just looking out for you, Cheollie,” she exasperates. “All I ever wanted was for you not to get hurt. And can you blame me for worrying? She was known to sleep around and be noncommittal. All her exes said—”

“They were exes for a reason. It seems they were all insecure and needed to start rumors to heal their egos.”

Seungcheol can feel his body heat as the anger begins to rise. It always did when she spoke about you, but now it’s intensified.

“Maybe the reason was because she wasn’t all she made herself out to be,” Hajun argues.

It suddenly feels like he’s in college again, surrounded by the study room walls with his so-called friends. At least he always had Vernon to lean on for reason.

“I think people put labels on her and just went with it,” Seungcheol says.

Hajun scoffs. “Oh, come on, Cheollie. She always acted like she was above everyone else. Perfect grades, perfect family… Yeah, right. I heard her father is a dead-beat and her sister is a—”

“You don’t know shit, Hajun,” he snaps finally. “You never did.”

She frowns, seemingly offended at his words. “You can’t seriously still like her,” she says, flabbergasted.

“Why not?” he challenges.

“You’re better than her!” she huffs. “You’re caring, you’re loyal, you’re smart. She’s none of that. You can reach levels of success she never can. She’s not that talented, and she’s probably not even good in bed.”

“She’s amazing, actually.” He smirks.

Hajun chokes, eyes wide in horror. “W-What?”

Seungcheol leans on the table. He narrows his eyes at her, more serious than ever.

“You haven’t changed, Hajun. You’re still jealous of her and all your shit-talking shows it. Had I never tolerated all your badmouthing, I would’ve been much happier the last few months.”

Hajun blinks; her mouth is slightly ajar as she processes what he said.

“So, you are on a date with her,” Hajun says in realization. There’s disgust evident in her voice that fuels Seungcheol’s irritation. He’s been so engrossed by her that he hasn’t seen you standing behind Hajun. He jumps as if his hand is caught in the cookie jar.

“Why, of course,” you laugh mockingly sweetly. “You still think he’ll give you the time of day?”

Seungcheol’s heart races at seeing you. You don’t look as pissed as he thought you would be, but that doesn’t mean you’re not hiding it.

He’s prepared to tell you Hajun’s just leaving, but he’s interrupted before he can get a syllable out.

“You’re still the bitch you were in college,” Hajun growls, a glare in her eyes.

You smile. “Takes one to know one.”

Hajun’s eyes narrow.

“I see your fashion has improved,” you observe. “Did you learn something from me?”

Hajun reaches for the glass of champagne on the table, fully prepared to drench you with it, but Seungcheol grabs her arm swiftly. Some of it swishes over the lip and spills on the table.

“It’s time for you to go, Hajun. I’m sure your date is wondering where you are,” Seungcheol speaks firmly.

Hajun turns to face him and slowly relaxes in his grip. “You don’t see what she’s doing to you?”

Her voice is softer now; she sounds sad.

“She’s making me happier,” he replies, hand still wrapped around her wrist in case she changes her mind.

“She’s making you a dick,” Hajun corrects. “You’re not the Seungcheol I knew a few months ago.”

“No, Hajun. I’ve just gotten better at standing up for people I care about,” Seungcheol replies. He almost sounds a little defeated by her lack of sense.

Hajun’s stare lingers on his. He watches her search his eyes for what he’s guessing is his past self, but she doesn’t understand he never left. It’s just clearer to him to see who’s worth fighting for.

“Enjoy your night, Hajun,” Seungcheol dismisses.

Hajun inhales deeply before releasing a breath. She eases her grip on the glass and stands from the seat. She gives you one last snarl with her back turned to Seungcheol, then walks to the other end of the restaurant.

As she’s walking away, you shuffle to Seungcheol’s side and call her name.

She turns, already annoyed with whatever you’re about to say.

You give her a small smile before you tilt Seungcheol’s face toward yours and kiss him. Seungcheol nips at your lip at your childish behavior but doesn’t resist.

When you pull away, you see she’s rolling her eyes and giving you the finger.

You’re tempted to reciprocate the gesture, but she turns around before you can lift a hand.

“That was immature,” Seungcheol murmurs, although he doesn’t sound upset.

“So is she,” you argue.

Seungcheol rubs his lips together, not disagreeing with your comment.

“So, what did you hear?” he asks as you sit down.

“That you think I’m amazing in bed,” you grin, crossing your legs and leaning back in your seat.

Seungcheol seems embarrassed for a few seconds, but then he’s smirking and grazing one of your legs with his under the table.

“I’m sure you’ll be amazing in my car too,” he replies.

Your mouth drops slightly. “Seungcheol!”

He cocks an eyebrow up briefly—a habit of his that you’ve started to find more attractive than annoying.

“We can get a to-go,” he offers.

You shake your head and nudge at his leg with yours. “You wanted to eat here, so we’re eating here. Behave yourself.”

Seungcheol’s eyes flicker down at your body, sighing.

“But you make it so hard,” he groans lowly.

You know he’s talking about not being able to behave, but you get the hint he’s also referring to something else.

You resist the urge to glance down, knowing you won’t be able to see what you’re looking for anyway.

“I’m sure I do,” you smile mischievously.

The corner of his lips dips down.

Thankfully, your food arrives before he can reply, and the conversation transitions into something more appropriate.

With the night winding down and a belly filled with delicious food, you begin to get sleepy. Seungcheol pays for the meal and then helps you get into the car. His hand holds yours, and he can’t stop the grin on his face when he feels your grip ease as you fall asleep.

You look so sweet that he doesn’t wake you when he arrives at his apartment. He’s careful to pick you up and carry you to his front door, then to his bedroom.

“Babe,” he finally speaks.

“Hm?” you mumble in his arms.

“We’re at my place, you wanna change for bed?” he asks softly.

Your eyes peel open, glancing around to confirm your whereabouts.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s no problem, baby,” he says and eases you onto the bed.

“Your clothes or mine?” he asks, opening his closet to get you something more comfortable.

“Yours,” you answer tiredly.

Seungcheol’s not surprised by your answer, yet his heart still skips a beat. He likes that you enjoy his clothes even if they’re not the most stylish. Granted, some are well-known brands, but they’re still just plain.

He hands you a spare shirt and shorts and then changes into his own nightwear. When he looks at you, you’re already tucked under his covers, shorts forgotten at the foot of the bed.

“That sleepy huh?” he chuckles and puts away the unwanted shorts.

“Very,” you sigh.

Seungcheol climbs into bed after turning off the light, immediately getting hugged by you. He wiggles a bit to get comfortable.

“You have a good night, Cherry?” he asks.

You nod, eyes peering up to his. “The best.”

“I’m glad,” he murmurs. “Thank you for letting me take you out to dinner.”

You smile. Despite wanting to keep things small, you’re glad he took you out in the end. It was nice going on a proper date since it’s been a while. Not by choice, but aligning schedules hasn’t been as easy nowadays. You’ve both been busy with your new jobs.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you answer teasingly.

Seungcheol chuckles. “Not really.”

It’s quiet for a moment until Seungcheol begins to speak. 

“I lo—”

“Happy one-month anniversary, Cheol,” you say nearly at the same time; however, you don’t inquire on what he was going to say afterward.

Seungcheol pauses as he contemplates continuing his sentence. He decides against it.

“Happy one month, baby,” he echos instead, leaning down to kiss you sweetly—a faint smile on his lips.

A/N: If anyone is curious, this is how I imagined the necklace/choker to look like.

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

taglist: @musingsofananxiouspotato, @christinewithluv, @lockburn-castle, @iammisstora, @maknae00, @morklee02, @kittyhui, @cheolcherries, @oncloudvii23*, @mystikha*, @lithelust, @doom-fics, @ellllsia (im debating on only tagging those who specified for the pretty please couple just bc some parts may not make sense if you haven't read the series, but lmk if you have a preference!)

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

So we’re all trans?

Barbie dolls: t4t!Jegulus x genderfluid!reader

Word: 3.3k ish

Summary: James and Regulus are nervy to tell you they’re trans while you are nervy to tell them you’re genderfluid and hilarity ensues

Warnings: Lightning McQueen, Shrek, Spiderman, and Peter Pettigrew mentioned, James is a kale freak, I talked like a lot most of which was not necessary, mentions: shots (testosterone), getting vaccinations, cheating, domestic homicide, medieval torture, your experience with genderfluidity(it’s going to be a word for today) might not align with mine but i kept it as vague as possible, a bit of a Disney channel moment but just like ignore the cringe baby it's fine it adds character, you place your hands on your hips but it's not like “you place your tiny baby girl hands on your voluptuous hips in girly frustration” yk so it works for whatever gender you're feeling🩷, insecure feelings in gender identity, everybody is worried the other is going to break up with them bc they’re trans so it's like hypothetical transphobia, you wear pants, jamie used once, yeah i think thats it please read the author’s note i want to cover all my bases to make sure this doesn’t have unintended messages right okay cool

A/n: I'm going to use the small text bc I'm going to be yapping a lot so I apologize to all the bad vision freaks(I can't see two inches in front of my face) right so I just wanted to say that both James and Regulus had medically assisted transitions (that feels like a right phrasing) reg had top surgery, James takes puberty blockers, and they both take T I just wanted to say that you do not have to take anything or do anything to be valid in your trans identity some people can’t afford surgeries and some people don't want them and everybody is valid (except for those people who are like “me when the trans guy with triple d’s gets mad I mess up their pronouns” they can suck my 12-foot long dick) I just wanted to say this because I didn’t want someone to read this and feel like they don’t count because they didn’t follow these two rich boys’ paths okay awesome

request: right here dickhead

James and Regulus have been dating for years. Strangely enough, they had been taking care of each other since day one. It was truly simple, once they moved in together their acts of service quadrupled. Suddenly James was sitting with Regulus on the edge of the bathtub, gently removing his chest tape. Regulus decided chest tape wasn’t enough, and James was reaching the shelves over Regulus’ elbow height for him. James became a supreme master at making soup while Regulus was in recovery from his top surgery. Eventually, Regulus was healed and extremely joyous. He was wandering around the house with his shirt off just for the hell of it. Regulus was prancing down the porch stairs to get the mail in only his James’ plaid pajama pants and cat slippers.

James was lucky enough to have loving accepting parents. He started puberty blockers early on and eventually, he swapped them out for testosterone so he neglected the want and or perceived need for a top surgery. James, after having years of practice, lost his uneasiness towards the injections. Regulus, however, was extremely terrified of needles. As a kid, he was practically breaking Sirius’ hand from his grip when he needed to get his vaccinations. Before he met James, Sirius would do them for him. Now, Regulus would stand in the kitchen covering his eyes with his forearm and turning away as far as he could. James would inject the shot as fast as possible, rewarding Regulus’ bravery with 80 kisses on his cheek and ice cream.

They were out to their friends, but it wasn’t exactly something mentioned frequently. It didn’t really matter all that much. Barty would call you a dickhead no matter what was in your pants. Marlene was similar but her go-to insult was ‘ bitchey-bitch-bitch-stupid-face’, friends only of course. You can’t have that insane unfiltered language out with strangers. Lily loved everyone, closing off every single phone call with ‘I love you’ even if it was customer service.

Peter was similar although instead he thanked people by saying ‘I appreciate you’. He once mentioned how he was working at a restaurant having a horrible day. He was yelled at more than thrice in a row, and he was certain if someone called him one more bad name he’d burst into tears. Then this woman came in, who appeared to have met the first dinosaur, and she was so kind to him. When she left she said ‘Thanks, baby. I appreciate you.’ And he sobbed in the freezer. Peter immediately engraved it into his dictionary. All their friends knew, but it was like knowing their favorite letter; it’s nice to know but that information doesn’t really come into play very frequently.

Then they met you. Regulus had dragged James to the bookstore. James loved going to the bookstore with Regulus. Regulus liked wandering for hours. He liked scanning the backs and summaries inside the front cover. James liked the bookstore mainly because Regulus liked it. He also liked looking through the cookbooks and workout guides. Sometimes when the story was empty he’d head towards the kid section, squeeze himself into one of the tiny plastic chairs, and do the puzzles. Eventually when Regulus would finish looking, a hefty stack in his arms, he’d find James. Usually, James would brag about how ‘those dumbasses’ had nothing on him. He finished eight puzzles in under a minute. Regulus would remind him the puzzles had six pieces each.

That time was different though. James had looked through all the cookbooks, finding one he liked. James looked at a few of the workout books, getting bored when they said something he didn’t agree with. He finished all the puzzles made for toddlers, and yet his boyfriend still wasn’t done. It was odd. So James went on a search for Regulus. He checked the poetry section first, no Regulus. He went to the fantasy next, no dice. James stalked up and down every aisle. His ears perched up at the sound of Regulus’ voice. It was a bit strange, Regulus didn’t usually volunteer to socially interact with anyone. James assumed he got trapped into small talk, rushing to his boyfriend’s rescue.

James found Regulus actually grinning with a stranger. James didn’t even know he could do that. Regulus was holding a book open, letting you lean to look over his shoulder. You both looked more than excited to finally meet somebody you could talk to about your favorite book. The more James looked at you, the more he understood why Regulus was so happy to talk to you. Delectable was a nasty word to use to describe a person so James opted instead for extremely stunning. Eventually with Regulus’ book opinions and James’ cheesy flirting, their couple grew into a throuple.

Your relationship is a little fresh now. In the way that you had no idea what either of their pajamas looked like but you knew exactly where their spoons were. James and Regulus weren’t entirely sure if you would accept them with open arms if they shared every part of them, including their favorite letter. They stayed silent for the most part, letting you stay ignorant just this once.

You were harboring your own skeleton in the closet. You haven’t told them you are genderfluid, and you haven’t told them how many frustrations that caused. You love who you are but for fucks sake could it be just a smidge easier? Your secret was weighing on you. It was all you could think about while you were out with your two amazing boyfriends. If you told them they could disprove and break up with you on the spot. They could also accept you but an overthinking mind never seems to be optimistic.

Your boyfriends seemed to notice your mood change, worried now you might’ve put together a couple of context clues and realized maybe they aren’t cis. What if now you were disgusted by them? James squashed that idea when Regulus voiced it, though it still lingered with him. Regulus knew James was just trying to relieve him of his worries but Regulus still appreciated his attempt.

Finally, the camel’s back broke and you were heading straight to their shared home. It was edging towards their bedtime the sun had set a couple of hours ago, fully relying on their warm lamps. They both had changed into their matching pajamas; plaid pants and Spiderman t-shirts. Regulus had slippers with tiny cat ears on the top and little cat faces on them. James however had Lighting McQueen slippers that lit up when he took a step. They were cute when he first got them but the novelty wore off rather quickly and now Regulus complains that James’ shoes give him a headache. Regulus settled into the barstool behind the kitchen counter with his reward ice cream. James leaned against the counter across from him, slurping very loudly on his smoothie. James jutted it out to Regulus.

“Want some?” Regulus looked up at James with a raised eyebrow.

“James, if I ever say I want some of your kale and banana smoothie, I give you full permission to assassinate me. Preferably quickly.” James pouted, pointing the lip of his glass back towards himself. Regulus rolled his eyes and took another bite of his ice cream.

“You could’ve just said no, also what did we say about suicide jokes?” James said, pointing over his shoulder at the small whiteboard on the fridge that said ‘6 days without a suicide joke’ in James’ handwriting. Regulus dropped his spoon back into his bowl, feeling particularly peeved at the unjust accusation.

“No, no. That’s not suicide, that's homicide. Two entirely different things. You can’t dock my streak just because you didn’t find the joke funny.” Regulus stuck his finger at James. James pushed Regulus’ finger away, leaning forward to steal a kiss from him. James pulled away, taking another sip of his smoothie as Regulus took another spoonful.

“No offense, babe, but I’m not sure if I know anyone who would find domestic homicide funny,” James added, with his straw still in his mouth. Regulus scoffed.

“That’s because you have lame friends,” James’ jaw dropped in offense at Regulus’ words. “Barty would find it hilarious, and Dorcas would find it mildly amusing.” Regulus retorted, grinning like he won their game. James pressed his lips together in disapproval. As he was opening his mouth to continue the verbal play fight, a knock on their door interrupted him. They both shared a look of confusion. James shrugged, leaving his smoothie on the counter to get to the door.

“See but Barty finds The Pear of Anguish funny,” James argued, his slippers lighting up on his way to the door.

“Barty’s a masochist, I’m not sure what you were expecting when you took him to that museum,” Regulus muttered into his bowl as James peered out the peephole. James hummed in a confused tone, opening the door to find you. You were not in pajamas and you looked rather stressed.

“Hey sweetheart, you okay?” James asked, worry lacing his words. He moved back letting you step into their foyer. Regulus looked up at James’ words. He doesn’t usually greet the door-to-door salesman like that. Regulus quietly joined you two at the door, he understood James’ greeting now but didn’t understand why you were visiting them looking so frazzled. You looked them both up and down, slightly pausing at James’ shoes. You shrugged your coat off, placing it on their coat rack. James found it at a thrift store and Regulus repainted it.

“You two look dashing.” You muttered as you straightened your shirt. Regulus glanced down at his pajamas, suddenly feeling slightly judged. He crossed his arms over the very large print of Spiderman.

“James picked it out,” Regulus whispered, trying to ignore the stinging on his cheeks. James’ chest puffed out, taking a wider stance and pulling at the end of his shirt so you can see the picture better.

“Aren’t we cute?” James said, confidence making him smile brighter. You nodded.

“Yeah, gotta love Spiderman.” You squished your lips together. Even with your words seeming relaxed your nerves were spreading to Regulus. James seemed to taste the uneasiness in the air.

“Are you alright? If this was planned I would’ve gotten you a shirt.” James reached over, rubbing Regulus’ shoulder to give him silent support. You nodded, staring at the ground to take in a deep breath.

“Right yeah. Sorry to drop in on you guys, but I think we need to talk.” You said, giving yourself a breath to steady yourself. Regulus felt his stomach jump into his throat. It felt tighter now, his heartbeat reaching his ears. Regulus glanced over to James, finding he was already looking. James gave him a tiny smile that Regulus could tell was forced.

“Yeah absolutely.” James brightly said, gesturing towards the living room. You lead the way. Regulus moved his hands to the back of his neck, trying to soothe himself. James noticed, grabbing both of Regulus’ shoulders to rub them, waddling behind Regulus. James kissed Regulus on his temple. Regulus reminded himself that even if what he thought was happening was happening, he’d still have James in the end.

Regulus and James settled on the couch, holding onto each other for emotional support. You started pacing in front of them, walking from one end of James’ favorite rug to the other. James intertwined his fingers with Regulus’, letting Regulus fiddle with them in his lap. It was better than biting his nails. ‘I should get a whiteboard for nail biting’ James thought to himself before zoning back in on your rapid pacing. Regulus’ eyes were following you with panic behind his head movements. Your anxiety was dripping out through your hands, slapping them together over and over again. James was starting to worry that Regulus would get hypnotized moving his eyes back and forth like that.

“You know, darling. I learned the hard way that anxious thoughts are like burps; better out than in.” James offered, hoping it would soothe you a little. You paused your pacing behind the coffee table, turning to face James.

“Did you just quote Shrek?” James clenched his jaw, feeling caught. James saw Regulus turning his head slowly to look at him out of the corner of his eye. James let out a nervous and breathy chuckle.

“It’s good advice,” James muttered, slipping further down the couch. You sighed and faced them both. You held your hands behind your back. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Right okay so I need to come clean to you two, I’ve been hiding something for a while now. It’s been stressing me out a lot and I think I would rather risk our relationship than have to go through this alone.” Regulus squeezed James’ hands tighter. James had flashbacks to Regulus getting a shot at the doctor's office.

“Is there another person?” Regulus abruptly said, cutting into your steady breathing time. You looked up at him shocked, quickly shaking your head.

“Oh, no, no, no. No. I would never do that. I would never cheat on you guys.” You quickly rushed out, like Regulus might implode if you didn’t get it out fast enough. James moved to make a fast joke, pushing a small bit of the thick tension out the door with a broom.

“I haven’t been cheating. Have you, Reg?” James asked with a pained grin. Regulus knew his tactics, joining in to shove some of his anxiety behind a potted plant.

“Not that I’m aware of.” Regulus felt himself let out a strained laugh that came out more like a cat hacking up a hairball. You looked at them both with a worried look. Regulus wanted to settle your nerves, giving you his shining smile. Which was just him showing his teeth with dead eyes. You took a step back, holding both your hands up.

“Okay well don’t do that.” You whispered. Regulus relaxed his face. You shivered, shaking out your worries through your hands.

“I’m just going to say it. It’s a lot of words so maybe just sit quietly and let me spill.” You looked up at them both for their agreement. James sat up straighter, giving you all of his attention. Regulus kept his wide, slightly unsettling, eyes on you. You gave them both an awkward smile.

“I’m genderfluid. Which if you don’t know means my gender kind of flows through like all of them. I’m kind of worried about telling you this because I’m not entirely sure if you’ll still think of me the same.” Your voice cracked. You let out a breathy chuckle wagging your finger towards the ground.

“Oh you cheeky mother fucker, pull it together.” You whispered to yourself. You pushed your shoulders back, speaking again. “And it’s just a little frustrating and confusing because the whole time I’m just second-guessing myself. I just feel like no matter what I do I’m never a hundred percent confident in myself. It’s like I’m sitting there wondering-“

“wondering if you’re valid or if you made it all up?” Regulus asked, somehow making his eyes wider. You looked away from your fiddling hands to stare at him quizzically. You whispered the tiniest agreeance, James was shocked he still heard it. James decided to speak up and comfort your frustrations.

“It’s alright that you feel that way, darling. You’re entirely valid. We’ll love you no matter what, unless it’s murder-“

“Well-“

”No matter what. I want you to be your happiest, whether that be doing naked cartwheels in the backyard or making a fort under the kitchen table. Man, woman, something else, a nice mixture of both, I’m here for you. Confusion and frustration happen all the time it's alright. I think it’s important to just make sure you do whatever makes you happiest for that moment or day.” James explained. As he talked Regulus watched your shoulders sink with relaxation. Your anxious eyebrows slowly retreated back to their resting place, the worry lines on your forehead dissapeared again. James let out his own sigh, glad he got to relax his partner again.

“And on a different note, I’m trans myself so I support you on extreme levels,” James added, giving you a bright smile. Regulus scoffed next to him.

“Oh, you’re trans? Not we’re trans?” James clutched his pearls, reeling back to look at Regulus.

“Well, I’m not going to come out for you. I don’t know if you’re comfortable doing that. It’s not my story to tell.” James said, shaking his head at Regulus. Regulus muttered a few choice words at James under his breath as he turned back to you. You looked to have a million math problems in your head.

“So if we could just wrap back around, you’re both trans?” Regulus and James nodded at your question in sync. You sighed, looking around the living room. You placed your hands on your hips in exasperation.

“Just to clear everything up for those at home, I’ve walking around for weeks anxious up the wazoo for absolutely no reason?” Regulus and James glanced at each other.

“yeah.”

“it appears that way, yes.” Regulus watched you groan and drop your head in your hands.

“To throw my two cents in, it’s totally valid to feel a little discombobulated. Gender is hard and often it’s difficult to figure out what you’re truly feeling, it took me years to realize I wasn't nonbinary. It’s entirely okay that you feel like this.” Regulus said, releasing James’ hand from his grip. James’ shook his hand out, finally getting feeling back in his fingers. You gave Regulus a small smile.

“Regulus, love of my life, can I please eat your face?” Regulus smiled at you, nodding his head. You quickly made your way around the coffee table to lightly peck Regulus’ lips. You moved past Regulus to kiss James as well. You squeezed yourself between the two of them. Regulus rested his head on your shoulder, moving your hand to play with in his lap. James pressed himself against you, smushing his cheek against yours.

“I'm the love of your life too, right?” James asked, his words rolling onto your cheek. You hummed.

“Yes, Jamie.” Regulus interrupted your sweet moment.

“James, do me a favor and go get my ice cream.” James let out a loud gasp, jumping out of his seat and jogging towards the kitchen.

“My smoothie!” You wrapped your arms around Regulus, kissing his temple.

“I wasn’t insulting your shirt before, by the way.” You whispered into his hair. Regulus nodded against your arm.

“Is his smoothie worthy of stealing?” You muttered as quietly as you could so James didn’t hear you. Regulus let out a snort.

“Oh fuck no.” Regulus said before adding “I’ll give you a few bites of my ice cream.” You gasped, smacking a kiss to the apple of his cheek.

“You’re so kind.” Regulus groaned at your words.

“Not really being kind. It’s my reward for being brave, as James said. And I know that was probably scary for you so technically speaking you do deserve some of it. It has nothing to do with me it's just like the rules.” Regulus said, trying to cover up that he might actually have a heart.

“Right, the rules.” Regulus hummed. James soon returned with his smoothie and shockingly two bowls of ice cream. He handed one to you and one to Regulus. You three sat on the couch as you finished your sweet treats and smoothie. Even though technically speaking your reward was already given to you, Regulus’ spoon would randomly stick out toward you. You thanked Regulus with a peck on his cheek after each spoonful. Eventually, when his bowl was empty your spoon would jut out towards him, he was quite brave coming out to you today. James seemed to notice the food sharing, offering up a sip of his smoothie. You and Regulus both grimaced at him in sync before turning back to your bowl.

[pinkhoneydrop]

Something About a Birthmark

[ A/N ] - this is the first fic that I have written for Harry I decided to make a new blog to share content on and I’m hoping you all enjoy it. I have lots of ideas, but don’t hesitate to talk to me :) the reader in this blurb is suggested to be black, but I left it pretty vague, so anyone can follow along and enjoy!

EDIT! part 2 is here "From Birthmarks to Pancakes"

[ Pairing ] - Harry Styles x Reader!

[ Genre ] - Fluff and slightly suggestive at the end

[ Masterlist ]

///

Never could the sunshine look more beautiful than it did when it glistened upon your skin. The sky was clear and the heat was comforting against Harry’s own skin as he sat on the blanket you placed in the grass. You were laying down reading just next to him. The pages flipped in the low wind every so often but you kept a hand on the right side to keep your place. Dark hair covered your neck and went around your shoulders too. Leaning forward Harry lifted the hair away from your face.

“Let me get a good look at you.”

His voice was low as he spoke but you hear him just fine and the words lifted a smile onto your focused face. The grass tucked between the blanket and your bodies shifted around as you giggled. Looking up at Harry through squinting eyes you thought he looked like an angel from down there. His brown curls sat atop his head and his silhouette was illuminated by the sun. Turing to lay on your back you twisted with your head near his lap.

“How am I looking?”

You teased him for his previous statement and smiled cheekily as his hand came to the side of your face. Harry hummed as he looked down at you. Brown skin glowing soft hair and plump lips curved into your cheeks. The necklace he gave you as a gift dancing between your breasts that were covered by the bikini top that you insisted on wearing outside in your back yard. You were so soft to the touch. The shorts you had on exposed your thighs and sat just below your bellybutton. Light brown stretch marks snaked along the sides of the dimpled skin of your belly.

“Perfect darling.” A small smile followed shortly after.

Both you and Harry often wondered what you did to deserve each other. To be so deserving of having a partner who understood what the need to be seen felt like. You didn’t always feel perfect but Harry made sure you knew how he felt about you.

“You know I love you, right?” You always did that. Asked if he knew of your love for him. Harry nodded and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“And you know I love you.”

Sappy. The air around the two of you was soaked in emotion. It had to be. You wouldn’t see him for some time again when he returns to tour. You wanted to know what it would be like to love him everyday not just when you both had time. Eventually that time would come and both you and Harry waited for it with baited breath.

The pair of you relished the comforting silence for a while before Harry laid down next to you. He had on shorts that sat low in his hips almost exposing the tattoos on his hips. You watched him before you said anything more. How the muscles of his torso and back stretched and how he flipped onto his back before covering his eyes with one hand and part of his bare chest with the other.

Harry settled back into the blanket and you found a new place on top of him. Legs in either side of his. Your knees brushed against his sides and it ticked him a bit at first.

“We’ll hello again.” Harry chuckled and placed his hands atop your thighs. His head propped up on a bag you carried snacks outside in. Green eyes looked in yours as you began tracing along his inked skin.

“Would you ever get one that reminded you of me?” You hesitated a little before you asked. Harry looked down at his assortment of art and words that adorned his body. He thought perhaps maybe one day he would.

“Yeah..s’pose.” His eyes returned to you sitting on him. He moved his right hand to your hip and his fingers trailed along your side.

“Hard to forget you though.” Your face grew warm at his statement and you smiled at the man beneath you. After a few seconds you noticed his fingers stopped on your birthmark. The skin was darker and near your navel. Splotched in the shape of what looked to be a love heart. Harry loved it. Ever since he saw it the first time he’s placed kisses atop the dark skin.

“Harry, stop staring at it.” You began to feel embarrassed about his inspection of your birthmark.

“m not staring at you, m admiring you.” Harry spoke with confidence. He enjoyed every inch of you especially this one and he wanted you to know that.

“Now I saw you brought some fruit out here.” Harry questioned so you could get your mind off the embarrassment. It seemed to work. You twisted around and picked up a plastic bowl of mixed fruit. Holding it up you picked out a strawberry and held it up to Harry’s face for him to get a bite.

“Mmm mm you first darling.”

It had to be the way you ate them. How your lips formed around the fruit. Parting slightly so the whites of your teeth peeked slightly before sinking into red flesh. The juice being left on your bottom lip and your pink tongue pulling it back into your mouth. It was on the verge of being obscene. And soon Harry would think of other things for your lips to be puckered around. You took the half wren fruit from your lips and placed it back into his. Opening his mouth Harry let you feed it to him. The subtle sweetness reminded him of you and how you tasted. His mind would soon wander to more, succulent places but for now he just wanted to lay here with you as you fed him strawberries.

[snippychicke]

Legend of the Selkie and the Pirate

Am I a dumbass for starting another story? Yes. Do I care? No.

This will be a bit like Cats & Ships where we switch POV, but also inspired by prompts I found in an old document.

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen/mature (we have non-graphic nudity stated)

Part one of ?

Pairing: Buggy/Selkie!Reader

Warnings: Violence, hinted attempts at sexual assult by background characters. Followed by... more violence.

The seal I personally imagine is the leopard seal, but I try to be nondescriptive so you can have your own ideas.

Summary: Even in a world of monsters, devil fruits, pirates, and fishmen, selkies were considered a myth. Especially in the East Blue where the waters were too warm for seals to live anyways.

Except that myths were always seeded with truths, and stories always had a habit of coming to life.

Alternate Summary: You thought it would be easy to follow the stars home to the Arctic when you ended up far too south. Unfortunately, you were wrong.

Fortunately, another kind of star kept pulling you in-- the Flashy Fool: Buggy the Clown.

Unfortunately, this also leads you to question where 'home' really is.

(Meanwhile, Buggy is likewise conflicted. He handles it poorly.)

Ao3 | masterpost

Prompt:  Dreams/Nightmares

For Buggy, he swore it was a dream the first time he met you. It was some nameless town whose populace proved less than thrilled by their not so free entertainment. Even though his freaks had put on an extremely flashy show, the townspeople had barely clapped. 

 Watching the waves lap at the rocky beach under the full moon, dreaming of the treasure lost beneath (that he would never be able to reach) was still one of his favorite ways to unwind after a long day. Even if the sea hated him, he was still in love with it.

Yet that night something else broke the waves other than rocks or a boat. 

A seal. 

That instantly caught his attention. He hadn't seen a seal this far in the East Blue, and only had vague recollections of seeing them when serving with Gol D. Rodgers’ crew in the colder waters of the poles. 

Yet before he could ponder that oddity for long, things became weirder as the seal shifted, its skin becoming nothing more than a cloak over a woman's shoulders. 

A very curvy, naked, woman. 

His eyes widened in surprise as she looked up at the stars, a frown on her face and apparently unaware that she had company on the small beach.

Well, he had to fix that, didn't he?

~*~

For you, that night was a living nightmare. 

You gazed up at the stars, comparing them to the map you had (somewhat) memorized of the stars back home. 

You… were lost. You were very lost. 

"Mother Sea," you swore, rubbing your face as you tried to think. If the North Star was there, then you were… to the southwest? Or southeast? 

Well, too south either way. 

(What if that wasn’t even the north star?)

"And what do we have here?"

You froze at the unfamiliar voice, pulling your seal-skin closer as you turned. You had been warned about land-kind (humans and fishmen both) stealing one's furs right off one's back and using it as blackmail for all sorts of things. 

This one was human, you decided, judging by the tall thin form walking out of the shadows. (How did they survive without any meat on their bones to keep them warm?) Though you hadn't seen a human with a bright red nose like that… or strange markings on their face… 

Then again, you hadn't seen many humans this close either. Usually it was as a seal, and they were washed out by the bright light of the sun. 

You bared your teeth at him in a snarl as he walked closer, causing you to inch closer to the sea. "Back, human! Or I'll bite your hand off." 

Oddly, the human smiled, apparently amused by your words. With a flourish, he snapped his wrist and the rest of the hand came flying towards you, making you scramble backwards with a startled yelp. 

"Already off, sweetheart," he laughed as he booped your nose. "So let's try again. Who, and what, are you?"  

You didn't think, not when waves washed over your feet beckoning you home. (To safety, at least. These waters were too warm to be home.) You turned and melded back with your furs, ignoring the sharp yell behind you as you splashed into the waters. 

Prompt: Avarice 

Buggy was a greedy man, he could fully admit to that. Greedy for wealth, fame, power. Just like every other pirate, really. 

"You collect freaks, right?" The man pleaded as Ritchie dropped him at the pirate captain's feet. "I-I have a freak for you!" 

Despite the smile on his face, Buggy felt something twist unpleasantly in his stomach (or maybe something hadn't connected just right?). "You want to trade another's life for your own?"

His freaks weren't slaves. Sure, he was their captain and they obeyed them, but it was voluntary… mostly. Usually. 

They could leave any time was the point. 

And implying anything else already had condemned the man’s life. But then he led him back to the small merchant ship and pulled the so-called fream from the storage space from the hull of the tiny ship.

Chains bound your wrists, your mouth gagged with a strip of fabric. Dressed in nothing but a literal sackcloth. 

But Buggy was enticed by those dark wide eyes. So full of rage. It took a moment, but the clown-pirate recognized you from that moonlit cove just a few nights before. The mottled skin, oddly-sharp teeth. Those squishable curves. 

"--A real life selkie,” the merchant continued. “Her coat’s on another ship, just to make sure she didn't grab it. But--" 

His words were cut off as Buggy grabbed his throat despite the space between them. "I accept,” Buggy grinned as he looked at the merchant. “Her life for yours. Except she gets to keep hers. You don't. Not unless you can swim."

Buggy's hand carried him a few yards over the open ocean before dropping him, causing the pirate crew to laugh as the man struggled in the water. Meanwhile, the clown-pirate looked back at the woman, easily seeing the tell-tale signs of fear despite the attempts to cover it with anger. 

Selkie?  At first he wanted to scoff: those things were a myth. He remembered listening to the other pirates of his youth tell stories of beings that lived in towards the poles and looked like seals, but could shed their skin and become human. 

Which is exactly what he had seen that night. And after all, the Chop-Chop Fruit was supposedly a myth too.

He stepped closer, carefully studying the odd mottling of your skin, your just-a-bit-too-wide eyes, and the sharp teeth trying to gnaw through your binding. 

"If you bite, I get to bite back," he jested with a grin before undoing the gag, wondering if you even remembered him from the beach.

 He half expected you to snap or spit considering the expression on your face, but you did neither as you adjusted to no longer having the cloth in your mouth. "Water?" You asked after a moment, your voice sounding like someone who had screamed themself hoarse. "Please?" 

His grin softened slightly, becoming just slightly less manic. “Well, since you used the magic word.” 

Prompt: Difference 

Not having your furs made you… jumpy. It was like a piece of you was missing, which did not make your odd situation any better. You weren't one that typically socialized with those of the land. So being stuck on a ship with a motley pirate crew was certainly an… experience. 

Not a bad one per say, you actually were enjoying learning so much about their culture as you did small tasks about the ship to help out (your title was apparently chore-girl, or so it seemed). Most of the pirates were friendly enough, either asking questions or just ignoring you. 

A few you had to show that you were not as defenseless as you looked when they cornered you looking for 'special favors,' having heard ridiculous rumors about your kind. 

That, and apparently some human saw a naked person and presumed they were interested in sexual intercourse. 

Cabaji had been kind enough to provide you with more 'appropriate clothes' after that. Leading you away while their Captain reminded the idiots of their manners. (Granted, the fact the hand you had bit off was not going to return was probably punishment enough.)

It was easy to tell their captain, Buggy, was… different. For one, he could detach his body parts and send them flying as if a puppet on a string. (Devil fruit, some old memory in your mind spoke. Forsaken by mother sea and cursed by the Sea Devil himself. But you pushed such childish stories away.) 

But just the way he acted. Talked. It was different and had caught your attention in more ways than one. He may have been as thin as a piece of kelp, but he proved to be far stronger than he appeared. 

(Okay, you would admit it. He was handsome and charming. For a human.) 

You tried to convince yourself that all you cared about was the agreement you had reached after they had rescued you from the merchant ship: "We get your fur back, you do a little diving for us for some sunken treasure. It's a win-win." 

But even if you were able to find you fur like they promised, you were still so very lost. And unlike the others, the crew was welcoming. Buggy was welcoming. 

Not like the men who had caught you unaware while you had been trying to cool down from the hot tropical sun. 

You gazed up at the night sky, trying so hard to find something familiar and failing. You hoped it was just the bright moon and clouds partially obscuring the night. 

"Starting to think you’re a night owl." There was the tap on your shoulder, yet all that met you was a waving gloved hand that booped your nose before pointing to your other side. 

Buggy had his usual grin on his painted face (another human thing you were slowly getting used to) as he raised the arm missing its hand. It was so odd to see it return to its proper place and loom as if it had never left. "I heard Mohji had you bathe and groom Ritchie, so I would figure you'd be exhausted after that disaster."

You shrugged your shoulders. Trying to wash the lion had been fun, considering the cat hated the water. And afterwards, all Ritchie wanted to do was play as you tried to comb out his fur. And yet… "It's… hard to sleep." So many thoughts and worries constantly running through your head. Missing the heavy warmth of your fur. 

Missing being able to just swim to help relax. You knew humans swam, but how was a mystery to you. 

Buggy nodded as if he understood while he leaned against the rail of the ship, looking out over the waters. And you'd be a liar if you didn't take an extra minute to appreciate his form; long legs crossed, that thin lean body stretched out and muscular forearms braced against the wood. 

"I can help tire you out, if you want," he offered as he caught you staring, his grin wide as could be, punctuating his words with a wink.

You had a feeling that it was a joke--as most things were with him-- though you didn't quite get the punchline. You tilted your head curiously, mimicking his pose as you waited for him to elaborate. 

Only his smile faded once he realized his joke didn't land quite right. "Geez, give a man a beautiful gal and she's as innocent as a lamb," he muttered under his breath. 

"It's not my fault your humor is… different," you defended. "I'd like to see how you do if you were around my kind." 

"Can't swim," he grinned yet again, but one of those smiles that didn't feel sincere. It was a kind that reminded you of a threat, though you had never felt anything akin to fear when around him. "Pretty sure I'd end up as fish food." He paused before tilting his head thoughtfully. "Selkie food?" 

You shouldered him playfully before snapping your teeth at him. "Yes. Because our favorite food is pirates. Especially those with big red noses." 

His demeanor changed quickly, which you did not anticipate. His usual smile was gone, replaced by a dark look that seemed unnatural on his face. "I'll give you this time just because you're you, but no nose jokes." He growled threateningly, making you instinctively back up. 

"I-okay?" You offered placatingly. "I'm sorry? I don't understand, but I won't say anything more, promise." The last thing you needed was him upset and throwing you overboard without your fur. 

Nevermind the fact you didn't want to upset him even if you could swim. 

He glanced over you for a moment before his expression switched again, and he was soon ruffling your hair. "Relax doll. It's just a tender subject." 

You nodded silently, slowly relaxing but still on edge as well. You had seen his tempers, and don't particularly want that directed at you. "... for what it's worth, I think it's perfectly fine." You couldn't help but state, looking back at the inky black waters. 

Buggy huffed dryly. "You thought Mohji's little bear ears were real, so forgive me if I don't use you as a reference on what looks 'perfectly fine.'" 

You blushed as you sunk lower against the rail. "How was I supposed to know?" You had been so confused to see him with his hair flattened by the sudden rainstorm a few days prior. Which had been a riot to the rest of the crew, apparently. 

"Damn it,” Buggy swore under his breath. “You're lucky you're just...adorable." There was a hand at your opposite hip that suddenly pulled you into Buggy's side, his arm already waiting to wrap around your waist. "I could just eat you up."

You squealed as he nipped at your ear playfully, continuing the little joke between you. Yes, you threatened to bite him that first meeting, but it… was also a way your kind established and kept bonds between friends. Family.

Mates. 

Not that he would know that. It was just a game to him. And you would happily keep it that way. 

Prompt: Child

Buggy had to admit, despite the fact you were obviously a fully grown woman, there were times it was hard to see you as anything more than a child. 

Especially those wide eyes of yours opened in wonder as you marveled over such simple things like electricity or Cabji's unicycle. Granted, it did wonders for the egos of him and his freaks to have such a beautiful gal clap enthusiastically during training, complete with delighted laughter that needed no prompting. 

Okay, it was very intoxicating the way you watched. Like he was the most amazing thing you had seen. Forget the spotlight, he wanted the light in your eyes to always remain on him. He wanted to hear you laugh. He wanted to see your smile. 

He wanted all of it. 

(God it was so hard not flirting with you. He was a pirate, but he did have his own code of somewhat-honor. And you were thoroughly making him want to rip it to shreds because of the mix signals you sent.) 

And then came the times where it was clear that while you had a child-like wonder, you were far from defenseless. Those teeth weren't just for show as you proved when an idiot tried to cop a feel.

You weren't kidding that night when you threatened to bite his hand off. He wasn't even sure how you managed to bite the man's hand clean off, but you did. By the time he arrived to the startled gathering crowd, blood smeared your face like a mockery of his own makeup and the ex-crewman was wailing as he held a stump of his hand. 

The crewman shortly went overboard while level-headed Cabji found you some less provocative clothing. And he warned the rest of the crew that if anyone tried that again, he'd let you do as you please. 

Even if it was ripping out their throat. 

At the time the thought was a bit of an exaggeration. Especially as weeks past and he got to know you better. Your violent side was forgotten even as you'd smile and playfully nip at him with those sharp teeth. You were you, after all. Innocent as a lamb…

And then they finally hunted down the fisherman who had your fur. 

Even Ritchie shirked back as you took your revenge, and Buggy was both disturbed and uncomfortably aroused. He hadn't realized how sharp your nails were. How quick you were on land. How vicious you were. 

There was no mercy. And by the time you had your dark silvery fur wrapped around your shoulders like a cozy blanket, most of your body was painted red with the blood of your victims. 

"Join my circus," he offered as soon as your eyes landed on him. If only to stop him from begging you for something else as he stepped forward over the tattered remains of those who had wronged you, his arms spread as wide as his grin. "Join my crew." (Be with me forever. Stay by my side. Don’t leave me.) 

And for a moment, he thought you would take his offer, as you turned towards him, hand partially raised to take one of his. He already had planned that as soon as you touched him, he'd pull you into a hug. To hear you squeal with surprise and laughter. He looked forward to feeling those full curves pressed against his body, the soft warmth radiating from you.

His crew would be even flashier with a selkie. Such a beautiful deadly creature. Being. Person. He didn't even care what roll you took on, you would be amazing. You brought a new spark of life to his crew, and he needed it to stay.

But your hand dropped along with your expression as you stepped away from him. That light in your eyes shifted as you looked away, pulling your fur close to your body. "We had a deal. I'll gather treasure from the seafloor for you, but then I-I should go home." 

It was like you had ripped his heart out, and he couldn't will it back into his body. He lowered his arms, though he didn't dare let his smile fall. 

No one could know how disappointed he was. Or the fact you had just completely devastated him. "Right. Back to your little selkie pals, even though I haven't seen a single one of them trying to help you. Not like we have. We take care of our own, we'd take care of you." 

Okay, maybe a little of his anger seeped out, judging how you shied away. "I'm lost,” you tried to defend. “They don't know where I am, or what happened." 

It didn’t settle well with him. Because if you were his, he'd scout the whole four seas for you. Fuck a map, he'd go to the Grand Line blind to look for you. Raid the entire Red Line. 

But you weren't. And you would never be. 

Because his crew weren’t prisoners. “Okay then, doll face. A deal’s a deal, and it’s time to uphold your end.” 

Prompt: Running Away

How could someone look the absolute same, yet act so differently? 

Tension filled the air when you returned to the ship. Even though you had your fur and should feel complete, you felt… wrong as Buggy all but ignored you, snapping at the crew to take the ship to wherever you would finish your end of the deal. 

Was he that mad that you turned down his offer? 

But… you didn't belong here. Not just aboard the ship, surrounded by landkind. But in their whole society. You kept messing up, you were the odd one out. You couldn't contribute any to their circus acts. 

Besides, they had seen you overreact to knowing you had found the  ones who had stolen your fur. Even after washing yourself as good as you could with a cloth and basin full of water, scrubbing until your skin felt raw, you still could smell the coppery tinge of blood. Taste in your mouth. Remember the feeling of pure bloodlust and rage. 

If the crew had tried to interfere, you would have hurt them. 

You didn't know if Buggy could recall a limb that had been torn asunder. 

Buggy avoided you as the ship tore across the open sea. Before, he would find you several times throughout the day, dragging you to show you something. Or venting about something or another. Or just… teasing you in his own Buggy fashion. 

Now it felt like he avoided you. 

The crew as well, who would give you looks but usually just left you alone. 

You… missed it. How it used to be. 

But it was proof you didn't belong. Right? 

Finally, after days of awkward silence, you came upon a piece of ocean marked by rocks and shipwrecks. Masts and dark stone raised above the deep blew, rubble crashing upon both as the waves turned wicked. 

Finally, Buggy appeared, though avoided looking at you directly, and instead stared at the harsh ocean. "Deadman’s Stacks. Pirates have been trying to use it to escape marines for centuries, often with little luck. Only the best can navigate through the rocky outcropping and the wreckage. And rumor has it, it is a treasure trove beneath the waves." 

Cabaji held a bag out to you, "Fill this with whatever you can find, and a deal's a deal." 

You took the large rucksack, studying it and making a mental note of how to carry it when in seal form, before glancing at Buggy.

Who was still not looking at you. He used to always catch your gaze with his, and you loved the spark in his dark blue eyes. They were like the tropic seas you had begun to enjoy. Vibrant, warm, playful with a hint of treachery. 

Yet now they were as hard and cold as the waters of your home. 

You shoved the thoughts and emotions hounding you and quickly stripped the borrowed clothes, feeling the ocean spray briefly as you wrapped your fur around your shoulder. 

And jumped overboard. 

You heard the start of gasps behind you before you broke the surface of the water, the seal skin furs melting into your body as you changed, senses adjusting to being underwater. 

The damage above was nothing compared to below. You couldn't even see the sea floor through the wrecked boats, though the sea life had adjusted and seemed to thrive in the land-kind's ships. 

With the strap of the rucksack bitten between your teeth, you dove and searched. Finding the bits and bobbles that the pirates seemed to love and carefully placing them in the bag. Which was hard to do without hands, but you managed. 

Time was a foreign concept to you below the ocean,but eventually the rucksack was as full as could be without spilling and you returned to the surface. 

To your seal-eyes, everything was overly bright and hazy, but you could make out the large ship at least, swimming toward it. You could hear the crew once they saw you, whooping and hollering in excitement as you drew closer. 

You… never thought how you were going to get up. 

Just as you realized this, hands gripped your sides just behind your flippers and hiked you up into the air. You bit the strap of the bag in both fear and to keep it from falling as you were lifted up to the deck of the ship. 

Into Buggy's arms. You could make out the red of his nose and blue of his hair amongst the bright light, his mouth spread into a grin. 

Yet before you could do anything, he had set you down on the wooden deck and gently pried your rucksack from your mouth. Even with your poor senses, you could see and hear them clamoring over the treasures you had brought up. 

You had done your end of the bargain. Now it was time to leave. Part of your heart wanted to stay, and threw a fit as you forced your body to wiggle towards the edge. 

You heard Buggy call out for you just as you threw yourself overboards, freefalling into the waters below. 

[narrators-journal]

Heyy! I hope this isn't a bother, but I'm absolutely craving some Fyodor x Reader! Sooo, imagine this—Fyodor was your husband in a past life, and now he finds you again in Yokohama, working for either the ADA or PM. Obviously, he can't just let his *wife* be with someone else, right? I’d love to see more of that whole 'immortal x mortal' vibe, ahh! And to keep it true to his character, he calls Reader 'Anna' even though they have a new name now. Hope you have a great day/night! ☺️

(Make him have this yandere 'I'll kill every human that matters to you' vibes as cherry on top🤫)

This is another short one. I tried to pack in as many details as I could, really craft the scene despite that. And, I hope Fyodor is in character, I tried to keep him lmao. I hope that’s clear, and I hope that it sates you! I kept the reader somewhat gender-neutral and vague, and I hope that helps more people enjoy this lil ditty.

Reincarnation wasn’t something Fyodor Dostoevsky usually bought into. The concept came from ancient vedic religions, usually polytheistic ones, which Fyodor didn’t tend to follow closely nor care about. He preferred more monotheistic religions. That way he didn’t have to share the attention and love of his followers with anyone. And, that way, nobody else could think to challenge him.

Yet, as the pale ravenette sat wrapped in his cloak in the lightly busy cafe to watch you politely order your daily coffee and muffin. His violet eyes locked onto you while you stood at the baked-good-littered counter, he knew. The way that you stood, shifted on your feet while you waited on the barista, it was all familiar to the russian who sat with his inky, shoulder-length hair pulled up into a ponytail. You may have not looked quite the same, but he’d learned everything about you in the years you’d been his. So, he knew it was you, reincarnation or not.

How exactly you’d come back?...he couldn’t say, much to his annoyance. But, that didn’t change what he saw now on that chilly winter morning. That didn’t change how easily he recognized your features a week before, and right now. Though, despite how easily he’d recognized you, he knew that you weren’t likely to have the same moment of recognition he had. No. He thought while he watched you thank the barista and make a beeline for the door. Quick to vanish into the flow of civilians to start your shift at work. They would need to fall in love all over again. They don’t remember me.

He sighed at the thought, his eyes returned to the cup of coffee that he had no interest in. The warm fragrance of caffeine mixed with the scents of muffins, cookies, and cakes as he sat at the slightly wobbly table in thought. I’ll need to remind them. Remind her of our time together in the past, and of the vow they made to me. He decided, It’ll take time, but I have plenty of that. The only real threat is their current partner, and their friends. I can’t rely on our childhood bond, she wasn’t raised in any cult in this life, let alone my family’s cult. So, I’ll have to be a bit more ruthless in keeping her attention on me.

He hummed a bit to himself and nodded at his own plan. before he got up and picked up the now-cold coffee he’d ordered at least an hour ago at this point. Just need to get rid of her friends and lovers. Keep her safe until she regains her memories. He thought, a small smile on his lips as he tossed the cup and strolled out into the busy streets of the winter day.

Normally, the cloak-clad russian would follow you to work to judge how friendly you were with your coworkers and boss, but, today he meandered off towards your home instead. The throngs of people alive with chatter, gossip, and complaints of their daily to-dos. Did any of them know you? Were they your best friend? He’d spent the week on a hunt through your internet footprint to find any connections or information he could use. He knew who your friends were, and he recognized nobody as he passed, but that didn’t mean the strangers weren’t somehow aware of you, somehow a threat to Fyodor’s plan.

[sonofthedunes]

to all my lovely followers, merry christmas….or should i say, merry slutsmas? yes, i have prepared for you a naughty yuletide treat, a thanks to everyone who has joined me on this wacky trip through revitalized star wars fandom and luke stanning. so below the cut, partake in a peek at our boy engaging in some “self-care.” italics are his fantasy, regular text is the real world. i’ve kept descriptions of his partner vague so that you can use your imaginations. whether you’d like it to be yourself or an oc, to frame this story as before the pair hooks up or during a time when they’re separated—i’ll leave that up to you! here’s to a hilarious, horny, heartwarming 2024. may the force be with you. enjoy!

(MINORS DNI)

this gentle art

He can picture her so clearly, as if she stands before him now in the darkened confines of his room. Her hair, her eyes, the smile on her lips: all lovely—and all making his heart beat that much faster. He swallows, staring back at her wide-eyed. Can she tell, he wonders? Can she sense how much he wants her, how desperate his need has grown?

An involuntary groan of relief escapes him as his hand finally encircles his cock; freed from the confines of his trousers, throbbing and angry-red, it twitches and leaks a single clear drop. Teeth digging into his lower lip, he slicks his length with his own essence. He settles back and allows his eyes to drift closed as he begins teasing the head. All the better to focus on his fantasy….

She sits on the bed beside him, runs a hand over his blushing cheek. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” she says softly.

“No!” he insists. “No, I…this is fine.”

“Good.” She leans forward and kisses him—quite faintly at first, then more ardently as he eagerly responds. Their mouths open, their tongues slide between their lips like keycards in a lock. He gasps a little when she tugs his body closer, the combined heat sending a thrill up his spine. Daring to lay her hand against his aching groin, he receives a delighted moan in response. “Stars, you’re so hard…need you inside me.” He’s more than willing to oblige.

He’s fighting his own urges, knowing he could finish by fucking his fist quicker than an ash-rabbit. No, he wants this to last…every delicious moment of it will be his. So he drags his fingers up and down the shaft at a measured pace, huffing and cursing under his breath at how unbelievably right it feels. Of course he indulges in a bit of self-pleasure now and then, most young humans do, but…it never feels as satisfying as it does when he thinks about her. So sweet, so soft, everything he could ever desire.

Their clothes are fumbled off into wrinkled heaps on the bedroom floor, and he helps position her on his lap. The tight, warm wetness enveloping his cock as she sinks onto it—surely no feeling in the galaxy could compare to this. “Oh fuck,” she whimpers. “Feels so good…”

His head is swimming with rapture, his hands gripping her hips. “You don’t…you don’t know how long I wanted this,” he manages.

She giggles breathlessly. “I can guess.” Slender arms drape themselves around his neck. With a slow roll of her pelvis she begins fucking him, and he swears through gritted teeth with an energy that surprises them both. His fingers dig into her hips, guiding her forward and back, and he leans in to sloppily kiss her collarbone.

At some point he opened his eyes and now finds himself gazing on his handiwork: left hand curled around his swollen cock, caressing it from root to tip, occasionally smearing precum around the head. His chest heaves with every breath, occasionally accompanied by a small “hah,” and he can feel his sweat rapidly cooling in the room’s circulating air. This is what the mere thought of her does to him. And he loves it.

The dull slap of flesh against flesh fills the bedroom, mixing with their moans and hoarse words of praise. “Fuuuuck, right there,” she begs, driving herself down to take him deeper; he decides to help and moves with her, angling at precisely the right spot to draw forth a broken cry.

“Like this?” he asks rhetorically, hands wandering and mouth ghosting at her neck. She whines lustfully as he bucks up into her. A moment later she shudders when he lowers his head to her breasts; he kisses them, then sucks a nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue around the peak, not switching sides until it’s like a diamond between his lips. And all the time they fuck, giving and taking in equal measure.

What he wouldn’t do for just five minutes with those perfect tits! Imagining their softness, the way they’d bounce with every thrust, is enough to tighten his grip and increase his speed. But he’s been nearing that point regardless. His patience is paying off: the slow embers of his climax kindle in his lower belly, his balls heavy with their unspent load even as clear drops dribble down his shaft and onto his hand. Eyes squeeze shut again in concentration. A strangled “mmmm” at the pressure. Almost there…

“Almost there,” he groans, fingers scrabbling at her back. “Please can I cum inside, really want-“

“Yes,” she grants him permission in an airy voice. “Touch me?”

Without disrupting the rhythm, his left hand snakes between their damp bodies to the juncture of her thighs, thumb seeking and finding the little prize. Rubbing tiny circles over the nub, he delights in her arched back and trembling pants. It serves to fuel his own growing passion, and he begins thrusting faster. “That’s it…take what you need, take it, take it,” he murmurs, wholly devoted to his tasks. Is he speaking to her or himself?

“Yes,” he hisses, “take it.” His hard-on kicks against his palm and he grunts at the sudden shock of pleasure. He can’t possibly hold out much longer.

“So fuckin’ close,” she shivers, rocking on him as though she’ll never get this chance again. “I’m so close, baby…”

“Cum for me,” he orders (though not unkindly), thumb still massaging her tender clit. “Wanna hear you, sweet girl.”

He’s properly fucking his fist now, the very thing he swore he wouldn’t do at the start of all this, but quite frankly he doesn’t care. It feels incredible, the closer he edges to the precipice.

She falls apart with a scream, clenching around him, her hands yanking on his hair or lightly pressing his throat. By contrast, he almost sobs when he finally blessedly lets go: his hips jerk as he fills her with his seed, his brain empty of any thought but the urge to hold her and keep her.

Somehow, he has the presence of mind to cover his mouth with his unoccupied hand as he cums. He knows how loud he can be…and selfishly, he wants no one else to hear him moan her name. If he can’t have her tonight, he wants that sound.

Afterward (how long has it been? A few seconds? An hour? It’s hard to tell when your bliss is so great), they collapse on the bed. Their high dissipates gradually: breathing evens, hearts slow. Neither makes a move to clean up or dress just yet. Simply to lie together, exchanging kisses and tracing patterns on flushed skin, is more than enough.

There are a million things he could say, a litany of poetics he could charm her with…but all that emerges is “I love you.”

“You do?” she grins, brushing hair back from his forehead.

“‘Course I do. If I could have anyone in the galaxy, I’d choose you every time.”

Hooking a leg over his hip, she snuggles against his his chest. “The feeling’s mutual, starlight.”

He hopes it always is.

“Oh, shit….” He’d had a suspicion his orgasm would be intense, but…when was the last time he’d cum this much? Thick, pearly ropes of the stuff splattered across his stomach and chest, some oozing onto his hand (still clutching his softening cock like his life depends on it). With a groan of effort, he fishes in the drawer of his bedside table until he finds a spare rag and wipes himself down. It takes a few passes, but eventually he’s clean enough to put off bathing until morning.

Rolling onto his back, he stares at the ceiling, an acute wave of loneliness pulsing through him. In the midst of his fantasy he could forget it, but now the bed feels rather empty and cold. To have her there would be his only wish…but for all the Force can accomplish, it can’t teleport people just by thinking of them.

So he drifts to sleep on his own for another night. But before he does, he whispers her name like a prayer to the shadows…and then:

“Love you.”

[am-i-interrupting]

Like Father, Like Daughter | Vox x Alastor’s Child— OATSH

Summary: Vox finally sees what you meant when you said you weren’t a good person. It’s up to him to decide if he cares

Warnings: murder

His breath caught in his throat when he saw you. You looked absolutely stunning.

In a dress that was white as snow with purple detailing. A wrap around the waist, beading at the top, long sleeves went down to your wrists. What a sight to behold.

Vaguely he heard his name called several times and he could only him in reply. His eyes focused on you.

“Oooh,” the host of the party, a colleague of his, said with a chuckle, “she’s got you whipped.”

“I. . . suppose that’s a way to put it.”

“Well, don’t let me bore you with my chatter. Go on.”

And he did. He did go. He went up to you. You were looking around, clearly unnerved (to him and him only) by the amount of people nearby. You didn’t do these things. At least not like this. He’d heard stories and gotten to see a couple times the parties of New Orleans, they were very different from this.

“Hello, angel face,” he said as he snuck up behind you.

You whipped around with a glare, mouth open and about to go off. When you saw him it all slipped away. You shook your head with an eye roll.

“You ought to be more careful about who you sneak up on,” you told him.

“I’ll take my chances.” A pause. Then with the most sincerity, “You look gorgeous.”

You smiled. “Nothing compared to you, I promise.”

“What have I said about that kind of talk?”

You didn’t say anything. Your fingers just twisted the fabric of your skirt as you looked around.

There were so many people but not enough to fill the space. It felt both crowded and hallow. It was certainly a strange setting.

You hadn’t the faintest idea as to what you were supposed to do. You’d never been to one of these events. A place where it was called a party but people interacted like it was a business meeting. There were rules here. You just knew it but you didn’t know what they were.

What you wanted was to go back to the house. His house. You’d stopped paying for a hotel nearly a year or so ago.

Frankly, you should just move here. That would be the sensible thing to do. This is where all the contacts for your books were but you couldn’t make yourself leave your home.

New Orleans was all you knew for the longest time. It’s where your father had been. It’s where you belonged.

You belonged there. Not here. Sure, he was here and your publisher was here but there wasn’t really much else. You didn’t have memories here. You didn’t fit in here.

Truthfully, it always felt like you were a fish gasping for air when you were here. Only getting relief in small puddles when your friend. . . partner. . . show host was around but even now his presence wasn’t calming you down.

“I will be right back,” he said before he left your side.

Your eyes followed him as he moved past you. You wanted to pull him back, make that brief touch to your waist as he walked by last longer.

He walked over to a group of people. He smiled so perfectly. He shook their hands. He spoke animatedly and listened intently. It was like he had a cheat sheet. Some kind of rule book you didn’t possess.

It was when one of the girls of the group fawned and blushed, that you decided to leave.

You moved to say some words to the host, made up some lie about a stomach ache, grabbed your coat and left.

He noticed you leave. He excused himself and followed. He was just able to see you turn the corner when he exited the building. It didn’t take long for him to notice you were going back to his home.

It was several streets over from his house that a man came up to you. He followed you closely. He could hear the man’s voice but couldn’t make out the words. You pushed on. You kept walking.

Until he grabbed your hand and you came to an immediate stop. When you turned to face the man, he caught a glimpse of a smile. It unnerved him. He’d never seen you smile like that before.

Then you were guiding the man into a darkened alleyway. He followed, deciding to stick to the shadows whereas before he’d been trying to catch up with you.

When he finally caught sight of you again, his eyes widened. You hand a knife in one hand. It gleamed in the moonlight, against the man’s neck. Your other was clasped around his mouth. Slowly, you moved your hand from his mouth down to his jacket.

“Uh-ah,” you said in a sing-song voice, “shhhhh. Wouldn’t want someone interrupting, would you?”

You pressed the knife harder against the man’s neck and any attempt at speak was gone. You flipped open the jacket.

“Now, what have we got here? Oh?” you gave a fake, sympathetic smile as you took the money from the man’s pocket.

You stepped closer to him, further pinning him against the wall. The knife dragged along his throat and you watched it, moving your head slightly as it ran across his adam’s apple.

“Now, maybe if I was having a good day,” you said in thought, “I’d let you go with just this and a warning but I’m really not. I’m actually having a really bad day.”

“Just let me go, please,” the man said with a quiver in his voice.

He felt his stomach turn at the desperation and fear in the man’s speech. He wasn’t sure what to do. He felt stuck in place.

“Why would I do that?” you asked. “So you can remember this for a couple months and then go back to trying to assault people? No, I don’t think so.”

You dragged the knife up his throat and across his face. The tip rested beneath his right eye. You let it circle the socket. Then you plunged the knife into the soft tissue.

He hid behind the wall. He felt sick. He heard the man scream and sob but it ended quickly. He found himself moving in instinct to hide out of view behind a building.

Your heels clicked as you walked. He heard you groan.

“This is going to be such a bitch to clean.”

The footsteps got more and more distant. When he could no longer hear them, he ran. He didn’t know where but he needed to. He needed to run away from it.

His mind was spinning.

All that talk. All that talk of not being a good person. It made since now. You weren’t. You couldn’t be. You just killed a man, smiling the entire time.

He felt so stupid. How could he be fooled? But everyone was fooled, not just him.

Oh, poor innocent you. The child of a murderer. You were me too. You probably learned how from your father.

The defensiveness made since now. Why you were so insistent that people know why Alastor killed people. It wasn’t because you were justifying your care for him. You were justifying yourself. You were defending yourself and it just so happened he had the same motives.

Had he groomed you to be this? Was it just DNA?

He couldn’t make since of anything. He walked, ran, he just moved. He didn’t know for how long.

When he came to his door, he hesitated. Did he want to go in? There was a murderer in his house. He let you in. He invited you to stay.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

He admired you. He was your friend. He had kissed you multiple times. He loved you. All while you were this.

He opened the door to his home. He walked inside. It was quiet. He wished it wasn’t.

He looked in every room. He found you in the guest room. Your eyes were closed. Your muscles no longer tense. You had a small pout on your lips.

There was a glass and bottle by your table. A night cap. There was an extra glass, still full beside it. That’s when he noticed the way your head slumped against your shoulder and the notebook and pen by your hand.

You were waiting up for him. He felt his heart strings be pulled at.

He shook his head. He should be disgusted, terrified. His heart shouldn’t be racing as he looked at you. He shouldn’t be thinking about you growing tired but fighting it to see him before you fell asleep.

No, no, no, he shouldn’t be doing or feeling this at all.

Still, he grabbed the pen. He placed it on the open page before he shut the notebook. He set it on the table. He carefully pulled you down so you were actually laying on the bed instead of sleeping.

You groaned and reached out, grabbing his arm tight enough that it hurt. Your eyes peaked open but you relaxed when you saw him.

You said something, so slurred he couldn’t decipher it. He decided to reply by telling you to go back to sleep.

He pulled the blanket up. You curled against the pillow. He placed a kiss on your forehead.

He shouldn’t be feeling this. You were a murderer.

You were his friend. He admired you. He loved you.

He had a lot to think about.

Luckily for him, or perhaps unluckily, you were gone before he woke the next morning. A small note was left for him.

He didn’t reply to you for one week. The two. Then three. Then a month. A month and a week. It was a month and a half before you received a letter.

Meet me next time you’re in town. We need to talk.

You replied:

I’ll be there the last couple days in March. I have a meeting with my publisher on the 27th. Would you be available the 28th?

A short response:

Yes. Lunchtime, my place.

You would never meet him.

He would never get to say to you while you were alive that he knew you. He knew you more than most. He saw what you did. He had questions but he still loved you. He would never get to kiss you and call you his while you were both alive.