#*the crowd holds up pitchforks*

[saints-helen]

And he loved him in every way that a person Can be loved,

And he loved him in every way that a thing Can be loved,

And he loved him in every way that love itself can exist, and that was swad's problem.

He loved him too much.

He loved him as you would love a pagoda a temple a god, he loved him as you would love a fountain or a mountain or a cod, he loves him in the way you love tea and coffee and mud.

He loved him the way you love a partner a friend a lover, a sister or a neighbour or maybe something other, he loved him the way you love a mother a father, a son, and brother.

He loved him the way you love a lake and the sky, the view and the sunset, he loved him the way you love love and affection, and the stars and the onset of the numbers you choose to calculate, a birthday, a night with no stars and and a morning with no sun.

He loved him the way you loved a bed, after working, and the way you loved working after bed.

And he loved him the way you love sleep, obsession, and he loved him the way hunger loves the mortal and the fighter loves defeat.

And he loves him in the way you love hatred, and sound, and the way a hawk can love a rabbit its eating; gratefulness. Joy. Warmth.

And he loved him the falcon in the sky and he loved him the bird in its nest, and he loved him the cannibal a body and the body an archeologist;

"You knew that i was here. You know what i used to Be."

And he loved him the way the air loves your lungs and the way your lungs love the air, and the way your eyes loved the light and a child loves the fair.

And he loved him like a book and a story, and a pet, and a gaze upon something faulty;

A mechanic;

"You need me, you need this, let me make you Whole Again."

And he loved him as the hammer loves its maker and the way the maker loves his tool, and he loves him like the tiger loves its cub and its cub loves the fool, and how the fool loved the circus and the circus loved him too.

And he loved swan the way the prince does and the way a king does and the queen, and the evil sorceress and he loved him the way the spell loves the cursed; the molds of their body, the way the tower loved the beautiful princess in her folly a Bargain for defeat: kill the dragon, and you can have Me.

And he loved him the way a rainbow loved to be formed and he loved him like clouds love the sea, drifting on by again and again and again and he loved him like movement loved the air.

And the way dance loved music and music loved composers, and the love between possession possessor and object, and the love between siblings and prey and lovers, and he loved him in loving and hating and murder, and he loved him in killing and eating and further, and a burner burning eating away at a heart that's set aflame and the way the apple Loved him, and the way he loves it too.

Swad loved swan in the way you love a being. And swad loved swan in the way you love a thing. And swad loved swan in the way you eat your dinner. And swad loved swan in the way you love fleeing.

And he loved him like a feather loves to fall, and he loved him like muscle loved to tear, and he loved him like bone loved to break; in such an uncaring, effortless, ease of way.

And he loved him with effort, the way you run. And he loved him in trying, and clawing, and a growl. And he loved him when bleeding, when either of their clothes stained red, and he loved him like a feral dog loves to bark. And he loved him like a kind heart loved so loved to be, and he loved him like skin loved the earth, the worm, the flesh; with a need to tear and Mend and make so Perfect. And he loved him like the selfish loved the selfless and the way selfishness loved the self, and in swan's panicked eyes flickering back and forth drifting he saw his Whole Self. And he loved that too.

And he loved him like swan's scars loved his body. And he loved him like swan's weapons loved to Dig. And he loved him like swan's legs loved to kick. And he loved him like swan's ribs loved to Break.

And he loved him.

Oh he loved him so.

Oh how he loved him So.

And swan had always been the very thing he loved the most, and the apples loved him, too, they loved swan so very much, and they didn't only love swad, they loved swan because he loved him, they loved swan because all swad had ever wanted to do was make him His.

His brother.

His bones.

His wings.

His.

Only his.

And no one else's.

And no one could ever love swan as swad loved him.

Because strings aren't meant to be tangled, and yet they so very Love to.

And rock isn't meant to be broken, melted, and yet it oh so very Loved to.

And animals don't want to be hunted, eaten, and yet oh their bodies so very Wanted to.

Swan just didn't know it yet, that he was a bird for a bird of prey.

And swad, his hunger, loved him so very much.

And swad then loved him in the way you loved wanting, and so then he loved him in the way you loved having, and so then he loved him in the way you loved leaving, and so and So then he loved him, in the way you loved Needing.

And birds are never good with being hungry, no animal is, no object is, no thing is, no person.

No.

No.

They never did well with being hungry, no matter how hunger so very loved the stomach.

And all love is powerful and all love is wanting and all love is melting and all love is good, and all love is consumption and tangling up and up and up until you can no longer tell where love begins and where love ends and where they all stuck together diverge.

All of its different colours blended all together until they all loved the very same ugly beautiful brown of drying blood on a body that swad loved so so very much and it made him Wanting.

Mouth watering heart hammering and More.

And his eyes, dilating, slitting, changing ever so slightly as the breath left his brother his lover his weapon his Friend his beautiful beautiful moon in the sky, eyes growing duller and duller and he loved him the way a leg loved kicking in desperation and claws kept clawing vainly trying to catch some flesh underneath and the panicked, shallow, Wheezing rise and fall of his chest like a chirrup under talon made him endeared and adored and filled with so much Love, and he loved him the way teeth love biting and he loved him the way blood loved veins and he loved him the way it moved and moved and Begged to get out.

And he loved him the way adrenaline loved the hunt, and he loved him the way a system loved to give up, and he loved him like the earth loved the rot and he loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him.

And Oh how he Loved him So Very much.

[wormsdyke]

car seat headrest concert footage is fun to watch because there will be several minutes of just wordless wailing and guitar distortion and the audience will be a pretty even split of people losing their absolute shit to it and people who are clearly you know. they’ve heard music before and they’re not entirely sure that’s what’s happening right now

[soaps-mohawk]

The Angel and The Devil

Kyletober Day 17: Double Penetration

Summary: In the back of the bar in a booth just barely visible, they are seated. You’ve been eyeing them since you first caught a glimpse, almost drawn to them in a magnetic haze. You can’t help but look, even if you run the risk of being caught staring. You have yet to be so unlucky, as their attention seems to be on each other the most.

Pairing: Incubus!Kyle x reader x Incubus!Johnny

Word Count: 6,688 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, explicit smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, anal sex, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), munch!Kyle, costumes, demons, symbolism, slight coercion, alcohol, language

A/N: And here we are! We've arrived at the end of Kyletober for what I think is my favorite fic of the month. It's been a fun month and I've had a good time with these fics and seeing everyone's reactions. I hope you've enjoyed the last month as well and Happy Halloween everyone!

MASTERLIST

The bar is full of all sorts of characters and creatures tonight. 

It’s Halloween which means the bar is fuller than usual, even on a weekend. It had been a last minute decision which led you to the bar. After a rough day at work you needed a pick-me-up and so you had gone to the nearest store, grabbed one of the few remaining costumes off the shelf in favor of not sticking out, and then headed to your favorite bar. 

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

You’re beginning to regret not looking closer at the costume you grabbed. The cheap angel wings are too tight, the elastic straps digging into your underarms. The halo bobs precariously on your head with every movement, and you’re half tempted to just take them off and shove them in a bin. 

“Yes, actually.” You say, turning to the Frankenstein that has saddled up to you at the crowded bar. “It means I have to listen to cheesy pickup lines all night.” 

You ignore the jeers of Frankenstein’s friends as you turn back to your drink, casting your gaze around the bar again. You’re just here to numb the sting of a particularly awful day at work, and nothing more. 

At least, until your gaze lands on them again. 

In the back of the bar in a booth just barely visible, they are seated. You’ve been eyeing them since you first caught a glimpse, almost drawn to them in a magnetic haze. You can’t help but look, even if you run the risk of being caught staring. You have yet to be so unlucky, as their attention seems to be on each other the most. 

It’s not fair how beautiful some people are. How blessed others can be with good genetics and decent bone structure. The two at the back of the bar may as well be models. 

They’re...beautiful.

The one with the mohawk is all playful grins and boisterous laughter. There’s a roughness to him, more handsy than the other one, even as his bright blue eyes scan the bar occasionally. The other is softer with near perfect skin, short cropped curls, and the most dazzling smile you think you’ve ever seen. That smile still holds a teasing tilt to it though, but he’s not as blatant with it as mohawk. 

The devil horns on his head don’t fit him. He should be the one dressed as the angel. 

They’re both wearing cheesy devil horns and you suppose the matching tails. There’s a cheap plastic pitchfork leaned against the booth next to mohawk. The look fits him perfectly with his devilish grin, though you suppose the devil is supposed to be beautiful, so perhaps it does fit his partner as well. 

You knew they were together as soon as you laid eyes on them. It’s not hard to tell. How close they sit, the way lips brush ears when they lean in to whisper. Smirks cocking lips in upwards turns as hands move under the table. They’re a beautiful couple. Far out of your league. 

Yet you can’t help but imagine it. Screw the angel and devil on your shoulders, you want two devils. One in front, one in back. You can almost imagine the heat their bodies give off, the push of solid muscle on each side, sandwiching you between them. 

Your teeth sink into your lip at the idea. 

You turn your gaze back to them, nearly jumping as you meet a pair of bright blue eyes. You’re shocked for a moment, not expecting him to be looking right at you. His eyes have passed over you a number of times as he’s looked around the bar, but this is the first time he’s ever looked at you. There’s no mistake. He’s not looking at anyone else. His eyes are locked on yours, almost as if he had read your mind, seen your inner thoughts about the two of them. 

Something holds you there, the magnetic energy that had drawn you to them strengthening. Heat pulses between your thighs as mohawk’s tongue darts out wetting his bottom lip. Those lips lift in a smirk and suddenly the spell is broken. 

You whip back around to face the bar, cheeks blazing. The halo on top of your head bobs at the sudden movement, nearly pulling the headband from your head. You steady it with a hand, taking a deep breath. Shaky fingers curl around your drink and you down the rest of it, ignoring the burning in your throat from the strong liquor. 

Of course eventually you’d get caught staring. It’s not like you were being very inconspicuous, out here eyeballing them blatantly. 

“Can I get you another?” 

The voice makes you jump, the empty glass in your hand nearly clattering onto the bar. Your head whips around, eyes widening as you stare at the angel before you. Well...devil before you.

He’s even more beautiful up close. His skin is perfect aside from the scar on his cheek. His eyes are deep brown, and the longer you stare at them, the more you feel like you’re sinking into their depths. You get a firsthand look at that dazzling smile as he flashes one at you, showing off perfect white teeth. 

There’s an edge to that smile, though, something in the back of your mind starting to itch. 

“Can I buy you another round?” He asks again in that smooth, honeyed tone. It’s captivating, almost floating straight into your ears like a song. 

He’s staring at you, waiting patiently for your response. You clear your throat, nodding before you can even think about it. “Y-Yeah. I could go for another.” Your hand reaches up, steadying the halo again as it bobs back and forth. 

His eyes watch your hand for a moment before he grins, dropping his gaze back to yours. He flags the bartender, giving him your order. You’re too busy staring at him, enraptured by his beauty to wonder how he knew what you were drinking. 

“Would it be too cliche to ask what a pretty angel like you is doing here alone?” He asks, leaning against the side of the bar, blocking you from the werewolf next to you that had been eyeing you as you stared across the bar. 

Your face warms, a laugh leaving your lips. “A little maybe.” You should stop there. “Getting some stress relief from that 9 to 5 grind.” The words leave your lips before you can stop them. You’ve lost complete control of your body and your mind in his presence. 

Something is wrong. 

Alarm bells go off in the back of your mind as he turns to the bartender. He slips a note across the bar, telling the bartender to keep the change. You had glimpsed it before it disappeared in the bartender’s hand. It was far more than two drinks would cost. 

The bad feeling disappears from your mind as he turns back to face you, both of your drinks in hand. “Why don’t you come join us?” 

Say no! 

You nod, almost feeling like you’re in a trance. “Yeah, okay.” 

He grins, his eyes flashing with something too fast for you to tell what it is. “Come on.” He motions with his head. 

You slide off the bar stool, the two words almost feeling like a final signature on a contract, sealing your fate for the evening. 

You won’t be leaving alone. 

Your feet move automatically as you follow him across the bar to the booth where the other is still sitting. A tingle runs down your spine as he continues to stare at you. You feel almost like prey being stared down by a hungry predator. 

Perhaps you are the prey. The angel caught between the claws of a devil.

You slide into the booth without even having to be told to, your body still moving automatically as you wind up between the two. Your drink is set down in front of you, and you don’t bother to notice how the one in front of mohawk hasn’t been touched. 

“Aren’t ye a bonnie little thing.” Mohawk says, draping his arm across the back of the booth. “Call me Johnny. That’s Kyle.” He says, nodding to the one on the other side of you. 

You tell him your name, still feeling like you’re in a daze, trapped under his sharp blue gaze. Your wings move slightly, his fingers playing with the feathers strapped to your back. It feels almost ironic being trapped between them. 

You certainly won’t be feeling much like an angel by the time the night is over. 

“Saw ye lookin’ from the bar.” He continues, a smirk playing on his lips. It sends a shiver down your spine, but you can’t tell why. There’s something dangerous in there, some sort of threat raising alarm bells in the back of your mind. “Pretty little angel hoping to catch the attention of a couple of devils, huh?” He adjusts the twisted elastic strap of your wings. It makes your stomach clench, having his hand so close to you, his knuckles brushing against the side of your breast. 

Something feels off, some primal part of your brain screaming, but you can’t quite hear what it’s saying. You’re too caught up in his magnetic presence to care about much else.  

“Like what ye see, angel?” He asks. 

You nod, still caught under his gaze. Your brain feels foggy, like you’re slipping into a daze. For a moment you panic that someone might have drugged your drink, that Kyle might have slipped something in while you weren’t looking. It’s easily done. All it takes is a second and you let him carry the drink all the way from the bar to the table. 

Hands turn you around, the hazy fog disappearing as you meet Kyle’s brown eyes. Sudden clarity washes over you as you’re turned away from Johnny, almost as if he had been holding you under a spell. There’s still a faint buzzing in the back of your mind as you stare at Kyle and his soft grin. It’s so soft and comforting compared to Johnny’s intensity. 

“Such a pretty thing.” Kyle says, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is electric as his fingers brush against you, your skin tingling all the way down to your toes and he’s barely touched you. He adjusts your halo as it wobbles, still holding your gaze. 

“Been watching ye since you walked in.” Johnny says, suddenly closer behind you, his breath warm on the back of your neck. 

You know that’s not true. 

You don’t care. 

“Knew ye were watchin’ us.” Johnny continues, his lips brushing the back of your ear. “Knew ye were interested.” He chuckles. “A little angel interested in a couple devils.”

A shudder runs through you as he presses a kiss to the skin behind your ear. His lips are warm, almost hot against your skin. 

You feel warm again, your mind starting to go hazy as Johnny’s lips press soft kisses against your skin. Kyle’s hand drops to your thigh, fingers trailing up your jeans. You almost wish he’d slip that hand between your thighs, but instead he skirts it around to the outside, trailing those fingers up to your hip. 

A couple devils indeed. 

“Well?” Kyle asks, snapping you back into awareness. Johnny is pressed fully against your back, now his lips almost lazily brushing your skin. “Are you interested?” 

Say no. 

Some deep part of your brain is screaming, sounding off all the alarms and raising all the flags, yet you can’t bring yourself to listen to it, much less care. You’re in too deep and the only way out is to go deeper. 

You’re not sure you want to stop. 

You nod, your lips parting as Johnny presses a searing kiss to your skin. 

“Need ye to say it, hen.” Johnny says, his hand closing around your side. 

“Yes.” You breathe. The words feel like the fall of a gavel, the stamp of approval on that contract you signed by agreeing to join them in the booth. You’ve sealed your fate for the night. 

There’s no going back now. 

“Good.” Kyle says, leaning forward to kiss you. 

His lips are soft, incredibly soft as they press against yours. He tastes like liquor, whatever sweet cocktail he had been sipping on. A quiet sound leaves your lips as his tongue presses into your mouth, his hand reaching up to grip your chin. You’re lost in the kiss, mind going blank as your body begins to tingle. Your panties are quickly dampening, the fabric sticking to your skin. Another hand drags up your leg, and you begin to curse your decision to wear pants. Who wears pants to a bar? 

Someone who didn’t expect to pick up anyone tonight. 

Or, well...get picked up. 

Johnny’s hand squeezes your thigh, his chuckle vibrating against your back. “Gettin’ her all worked up.” He presses his face against your neck, Kyle tilting your head so he has more room. “Can almost taste it.” 

His lips brush the side of your neck, his hand trailing higher on your leg. For a moment you hope he’ll take pity on you and slip it between your thighs, but instead he slides it higher, slipping it under your shirt. 

You pull away from Kyle’s lips as Johnny’s warm hand meets your skin. It’s electric, his touch like fire against your body. Your head tilts back against his shoulder, a moan slipping from your lips as your pussy begins to throb. Johnny chuckles again, Kyle’s mouth moving to your neck. One of your hands grips the edge of the table as Johnny’s fingers brush the skin of your stomach, holding on for dear life. 

All he’s doing is touching your skin. What is it going to feel like when he finally sinks his fingers between your legs?

You let out another moan as his hand slips higher, skirting dangerously close to your breasts. Reality slams back into you for a moment. Sure, you might be tucked in a back corner of the bar, but there’s still people around you. You’re still in a public place. You cast a nervous glance around the bar as Johnny’s hand cups your breast under your shirt. 

No one is looking at you. 

It’s almost like they can’t see the three of you at all. 

“I think she’s ready.” Johnny says, pulling his face from your neck as his hand squeezes your breast through your bra. 

Kyle hums, pressing one last searing kiss to your throat before he pulls his head away. “I think you’re right.” 

“C’mon kitten. Let’s go somewhere more private.” Johnny all but growls in your ear. 

You don’t remember the taxi ride home. You don’t remember getting up the stairs to your apartment or opening the door. You don’t remember telling them where you live at all. 

They’re on you as soon as you reach your bedroom, sandwiching you between them again. Johnny in the back, Kyle in front. 

You don’t remember telling them where your bedroom is. 

“Look at her.” Kyle coos, holding your jaw in his hand. His thigh is pressed between your legs, the seam of your jeans pushing deliciously against your throbbing slit as you grind against his leg. 

“Needy little thing.” Johnny groans, his hips grinding against your ass. 

“Could say the same about you.” Kyle smirks, his hand sliding down to your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds it there, solidifying the silent agreement. 

They’re in charge. 

You’re just along for the ride. 

“Want to taste her.” Kyle groans against your lips, his thigh pushing harder against your clothed pussy. 

“Always so impatient.” Johnny says, undoing the button and zipper on your pants. “Yer in for a treat, hen.” 

Your feet leave the floor as Johnny picks you up far too easily. You drop on your bed, the mattress creaking as you bounce on it. His hands curl around the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down your legs in one pull. He spreads your legs apart, staring down at your panties. They’re nothing special, certainly nothing you’d wear if you had been expecting something like this. 

You just went in for a quick drink.

Now look at you. 

“Would ye fuckin’ look at that.” Johnny says, whistling quietly as he stares at the damp spot on your panties. 

“I think you were right.” Kyle says, resting his chin on Johnny’s shoulder, staring down at you as well. “She is ready.” 

“Fuck.” Johnny curses, reaching down to tug your panties off too. You suddenly feel exposed, spread open before them. It’s been a long time since you’ve brought a stranger home from the bar, much less two. 

“She’s thinking too much.” Kyle says, pushing Johnny to the side so he can kneel down in front of you. He tugs your hips until they rest right on the edge of the bed, tossing your legs over his shoulders. The halo on your head shifts at the movement, nearly coming off. You’re still wearing your costume. 

So are they. 

“Then ye best fix that.” Johnny says, pulling his shirt over his head. 

You want to stare at his exposed skin, but you’re distracted as Kyle’s tongue drags through your folds. He knows what he’s doing, applying just enough pressure to make your pussy clench. No time is wasted as he dives right in, his mouth closing over your clit as he slurps at your drenched pussy. He’s like a starving man, pushing his tongue into your hole before licking his way back up to your clit, tasting every inch of you that he can. It’s like only you can satiate him and his need, his hands curling around your thighs to keep you pressed up against his face with no fear of suffocation or drowning. That’s a good thing, because with the way you’re gushing on his face, that may be an actual fear. 

The bed dips as Johnny kneels behind you, crawling up so his knees are beside your head. You tilt your head back, expecting a cock in your face but instead you’re surprised to find him still in his briefs. He’s hard and bulging through the fabric, but still covered nonetheless. His hands land on your chest, slowly dragging down to your breasts. He palms them over your shirt, his thumbs circling over your nipples through the fabric. 

“Johnny loves a good pair of tits.” Kyle says, pulling away for just a moment before his lips wrap around your clit again. 

Your hips jerk, another moan leaving your lips as Kyle gets back to work. Johnny finally relieves you of the angel wings, pulling the elastic down your arms before tossing the cheap cardboard and feathers to the side. His hands slide over your breasts again before trailing downward to the bottom of your shirt. His fingers curl around the fabric, yanking it up, somehow managing to pull your bra with it. Your halo comes off with your shirt and you half expect it to hit the floor with the wings, but instead Johnny pushes it back onto your head. Your shirt and bra get tossed to the floor with the rest of your clothes. 

You’re the only one fully naked, and for some reason that leaves you feeling very exposed. 

You don’t get much of a chance to dwell on that tickling still itching in the back of your mind as Johnny’s hands brush your skin again, his palms cupping your breasts. He leans over you, a set of dog tags hanging in your face. You stare up at them as they dangle over you, swinging back and forth as Johnny massages your breasts. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen.” He groans, squeezing them gently. 

You glance down, just catching the look Kyle gives him as he licks another line up your slit. 

A yelp leaves your lips as Johnny’s fingers tug on your nipple, a yelp of surprise more than pain. It feels good, something you’ve never been able to feel there before. Then again, everything feels good right now. 

They play your body like an instrument, Johnny teasing your breasts while Kyle licks and sucks on your pussy. They’re so intune with each other, Johnny’s fingers almost a mirror of Kyle’s mouth. It’s almost eerie how they intuitively seem to know what the other is doing, and how to make you feel the most pleasure. 

They’ve done this before. 

Your slick is soaking your comforter but you don’t care, too busy being caught up in the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You’re just getting started and already your toes are curling, heels digging into Kyle’s back as you get closer and closer to the edge. You’ve never felt this way with anyone else, an energy thrumming beneath your skin. You feel electric, you feel alive. 

“Gonna cum!” You gasp, heels digging harder into Kyle’s back. He offers no complaint, sucking harder on your clit. 

Johnny tugs on your nipples at the same time, intensifying the sensation as your back arches, cumming all over Kyle’s face. He licks up every last drop, pushing you almost to the point of overstimulation. It’s burning deep within you, your fingers curling around the comforter as you pant, sweat starting to bead on your skin. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. 

He finally gives you some relief, pulling away from your pussy before you can reach that point of the uncomfortable sensation becoming pleasurable again. It was right there, right on the edge but you’re denied that feeling as he sits back on his heels. His face is shiny with your slick as he lets your trembling legs drop so they’re hanging over the side of the bed. You can’t move, far too dizzy with pleasure still from your first orgasm. 

It’s only the first and you’re already feeling almost drunk on the sensation. 

“Good?” Kyle asks, pushing himself up to stand. 

You nod, still breathless. “Yeah. Yeah it was.” 

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips for a moment. “Taste good.” He licks his lips. “Sweet like sugar.” 

“I want a taste.” Johnny says, approaching Kyle. 

For a moment you think he’s going to dip down between your legs next, but instead his hand closes around the back of Kyle’s neck, pulling his face close. Johnny’s tongue licks at Kyle’s skin, lapping at your shiny juices still coating his face. Kyle offers no complaint, his lips parted as Johnny licks him. It ends in a kiss, all tongues and teeth as their bodies press tightly together. Your toes curl again, pussy throbbing at the sight of them together. 

You could probably get off just watching them together. 

Kyle’s hands slide down Johnny’s sides to his ass, pulling their bodies closer. They grind against each other, Johnny almost whining into Kyle’s mouth. You’re more than happy to watch them together, leaning up on your elbows so you can see them better. 

“We’re neglecting our date.” Kyle says against Johnny’s lips. 

“That’s not very kind of us.” Johnny responds, pressing another searing kiss to Kyle’s lips before they turn to look at you. 

You gulp, suddenly feeling very small under their gaze as they stare at you like two hungry predators. Excitement thrums under your skin at the promises their eyes hold. The foreplay was exactly that, a warm up for what is to come. 

You’ll certainly be doing a lot of that tonight. 

They break apart, the bulges between their legs prominent as they stand before you. 

“Tell us where ye want us, hen.” Johnny says, stepping up closer so he can drag his fingers over your thigh. Goosebumps form on your skin from the soft drag of his calloused fingers against the sensitive skin. 

Your eyes dart between them a couple times, your pussy fluttering at the ideas flashing through your head. 

One on each shoulder. 

“One in front, one in back.” You stutter out, another rush of arousal coursing through you. 

“Fuck yes!” Johnny cheers, pulling away from you to drop his briefs instantly. 

“You just made his night, love.” Kyle grins, face still shiny from a mix of your cum and Johnny’s saliva. 

Johnny’s briefs land somewhere as Kyle begins to undress, pulling his shirt over his head. You take the opportunity to truly look at them. They’re both fit and muscular, Johnny thicker and broader than Kyle’s lean figure. Kyle’s muscles flex as he reaches down, undoing his belt and jeans, giving you a good look at his abs. You lick your lips, watching his pants fall and then his briefs. 

Both of them are still wearing their devil horns, but neither of them make a move to take them off. 

“Lube?” Johnny asks. 

“Drawer.” You say, pointing with your toes towards the dresser. 

Johnny opens the top drawer, letting out a groan when he sees your panties. 

“You’re going to lose a pair.” Kyle says, maneuvering you on the bed. He’s finally naked, cock hanging heavy between his legs. He’s almost perfectly built, thicker than he is long with a little curve. 

Your pussy gushes at the sight of him. 

He’s perfect. 

He gives you a grin, something shivering down your spine as you stare at him. Warning bells are going off in your head, but they’re too drowned out by the need pulsing in your brain. Kyle lays himself out on the bed, fisting his cock in his hand. He relaxes back against the pillows, slowly pumping his cock as he stares at you with lidded eyes. You kneel between his legs, batting his hand away so you can wrap yours around his length. You lean down, dropping a glob of spit onto the tip of his cock before spreading it on his skin with your hand to lessen the friction. 

You meet his gaze again, a shiver running down your spine as you find yourself captivated in those deep brown eyes. They look almost black in the light of the lamp on your desk behind you. They opted for that light instead of the overhead one. You don’t think too much about it. You always hate the bright fluorescent overhead light anyway. 

The bed dips behind you as Johnny kneels on the mattress, his hands maneuvering you so you’re on your knees, your ass in the air. His hands smooth over your ass as you continue lazily pumping Kyle’s cock. The cool drip of lube on your ass makes you jump, your hand squeezing around Kyle for a moment. He lets out a groan, his head thumping back against the headboard. You keep that pressure as Johnny’s finger circles your hole, spreading the lube around the tight ring of muscle. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, trying not to squeeze your hand any tighter around Kyle’s cock as Johnny pushes the tip of his finger past that ring of muscle. More lube hits your ass as his finger sinks deeper and deeper in. 

You’re going to need more than one finger, from the glimpse you caught of his cock. 

You close your lips around Kyle’s tip as Johnny continues to work you open on his fingers, pushing a second one in with more lube. He’s cautious and gentle, something you wouldn’t have expected from such an eager man. 

Just the fact he’s even prepping you is shocking enough. Then again, they seem more than eager to be the ones giving you pleasure over themselves. 

“Ye like that?” He groans, pushing his fingers into your hole. “Feel good?” 

“Mhm.” You moan around Kyle’s cock, pushing back against his hand as he pushes in a third finger. 

Your pussy continues to drip, your entire body clenching around his fingers as he sinks them in as deep as he can. You take Kyle as deep as you can into your mouth, his back arching up off your pillows as he moans. It’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard, like angels singing. 

“Screamin’ Jesus.” Johnny groans. He pulls his free before slapping a hand down on your ass. “Go sit on Kyle’s cock for me.” 

You release Kyle’s cock, licking your lips before doing what you’re told. You scramble up over Kyle’s hips eagerly, taking his cock in your hand again. 

“Hi, love.” He grins up at you. 

You can only let out a groan in response as you line his cock up, slowly lowering yourself onto him. He’s perfect, stretching you open deliciously. It burns a bit, but you don’t care as you continue to work him into your dripping pussy. Your legs are shaking already by the time you’re seated completely on him, your hands pressing against his lower stomach to keep yourself upright. He’s solid under your hands, but his skin is warm, almost hot under your touch. 

He’s still staring up at you with those lidded eyes, his hands sliding to your thighs. “Good girl.” He grunts as you squeeze around him, his fingers digging into your thighs like he’s trying to hold himself back. 

Maybe he is. 

Johnny’s hand pushes between your shoulder blades, bending you down so you’re resting against Kyle’s chest. It moves his cock inside of you, a breathy moan leaving your lips at the change in position. Kyle releases his grip on your thighs, instead lifting his arms to wrap around your back. It feels intimate, the way he holds you. Far too intimate for just a one night stand. 

Your fingers lift to brush the dog tags around Kyle’s neck. He’s wearing them too, the metal shockingly cold despite the furnace-like warmth of his body. You can’t read what’s on them in the dim light, but you don’t really care to know at the moment. 

Johnny’s hand slides down your spine, smearing lube across your skin but you don’t care. It’s the cool drip of more lube on your ass that pulls you from your daze, the bottle snapping shut before hitting the bed somewhere beside you. Something thicker than fingers presses against your hole, your body clenching in anticipation. Kyle lets out a groan, his hips pushing up against yours as you squeeze around him again. 

“Relax for me.” Johnny groans, pushing the tip of his cock against your hole. 

You let out a long breath, willing your body to relax as much as you can. Johnny’s hand presses against the base of your spine, Kyle’s arms still holding you against his chest. His lips press against your forehead, something tingling against Johnny’s hand as you find yourself relaxing more and more. 

A breathy moan leaves your lips as the head of his cock presses into your ass, stretching you despite the prep he’d given you. He’s so thick, almost spearing you open as he rocks his hips, pushing more and more of his cock into your tight ass. Kyle stays still, holding your body as Johnny continues to work his way in. He’s so thick you can feel every inch of Kyle’s cock inside of your pussy. You can’t do anything but lay there and moan in pleasure from the mix of sensations. 

There’s a moment of silence, a deep breath as Johnny’s hips meet your ass. You’ve never been quite so full before, not like this, not so perfectly. They’re perfect, fitting into you like a glove, hitting every spot you could ever want them to. 

It’s almost too perfect. 

The thought is erased from your mind as Johnny begins to rock his hips, Kyle’s arms tightening around you as you begin to move against his chest. 

“Fucking christ.” Johnny breathes as you squeeze around him, pussy clenching as Kyle begins to move under you. 

“Bloody hell, love.” Kyle groans, pushing his hips up into yours, finding the rhythm of pushing in as Johnny pulls out. 

Your nails bite into the skin of his chest as the pleasure continues to build. You were worked up before they stuck their cocks in you, and now having them both inside of you is almost too much. 

Johnny bends over your back, changing the position of his thrusts. It pushes his cock against Kyle’s inside of you, pushing Kyle against that spot, his cock dragging against it with every movement of his hips. Johnny’s dog tags drag across your skin as he thrusts into you, the metal cool despite the moist heat of your bodies beginning to warm the room. Goosebumps erupt on your skin from the dual sensations, the warmth of their bodies, the cold of the metal against your back, the push and pull of their hips. It’s all so perfect. 

They do the work for you, playing your body like an instrument again with that uncanny understanding of each other. Kyle’s cock pushes in as Johnny’s pulls out, keeping you on the precipice of pleasure as they fill you completely. You’re rendered helpless as you lay there, unable to do anything but moan as your second orgasm of the night continues to build. Your entire body is trembling and twitching, all of your weight resting entirely on Kyle, but he offers no complaint. 

It doesn’t seem to bother him at all. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You squeal as Johnny picks up the pace, thrusting into you so hard your headboard begins to knock against the wall. Kyle’s arms tighten around you, holding you still and using you for leverage as he thrusts up into you. “Please, please, please...” You repeat it like a mantra, your entire body on fire with pleasure. 

Something tickles in the back of your mind, getting stronger and stronger the more you get closer to your orgasm. You can’t place it, you don’t care to, as your body writhes with pleasure. 

“That’s it.” Johnny groans, “Fucking take it!” 

“Gonna cum for us?” Kyle grunts, still thrusting up into you. “Gonna give it to us?” 

“Yes! Yes!” You cry, your back arching as you push yourself up against Kyle’s chest. 

The light behind you on your desk casts your shadows along the wall behind the bed. Your eyes watch the way they move and dance as you push yourself up so your back is against Johnny’s chest. Kyle’s arms drop from around you as you push yourself back, the new angle nearly blinding you with pleasure. 

The halo still on your head rocks forward and backward almost violently as Johnny continues to drive his hips against your ass. His arms wrap around you, holding you up against his chest. 

Perhaps it’s the pleasure numbing your mind, but you swear the room starts to get darker, the shadows lengthening as you stare at the dancing shadows on the wall. Johnny’s hand reaches up, tugging the halo from your head, letting it fall to the floor. 

You’re frozen there, captivated as his shadow almost seems to get bigger, the fake horns still on his head starting to lengthen and twist. Something unfurls from his back, spreading across the wall as the shadows continue to press inward around you. 

Wings. They look like wings. 

White hot pleasure blinds you as Johnny pushes your face down into Kyle’s shoulder, his own body folding over your back. You’re sandwiched between them, unable to do anything but take the pleasure they’re bringing you. Your clit drags against Kyle’s stomach as he gives over control to Johnny, letting Johnny’s thrusts rock you on his cock. Your hand curls around Kyle’s dog tags, the metal still somehow cold against your fingers. They feel bigger now, thicker and wider than what they had looked like. 

No, there’s not two of them anymore. 

It’s one pendant on the chain, some kind of pattern imprinted on the smooth metal. Your fingers trail over the smooth surface, tracing the raised lines. You can’t tell what it is, far too lost in pleasure to rationalize what is happening. Kyle’s hand wraps around your wrist, pulling it from his dog tags. He uses it to pull you up, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. Warmth floods your body at the press of his lips, your mind starting to go fuzzy. 

“That’s it.” Johnny groans, grinding against your ass. “Give it to us.” 

Your ears begin to ring as more and more pleasure builds, drool slipping out from your lips as you pull away from Kyle, your entire body tingling. There’s something coming, something building within you so strong you almost can’t take it. It’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s not coming fast enough. 

“Come on.” Johnny says, pushing himself up just slightly to drive his hips downward against your ass. 

You nearly let out a scream as the pleasure hits you all at once, fluid gushing out of you and soaking Kyle’s lower body. Your entire body writhes and shudders between them, the pleasure never seeming to end as Johnny continues thrusting almost violently against you. Kyle’s hands reach up, gripping your hips as he moans, his head falling back. You’re squeezing around them so tightly you’re shocked at how Johnny is still moving. 

“That’s it.” Johnny groans. “That’s it.” 

You feel like you’re floating, barely registering the way Johnny and Kyle kiss over your shoulder, groaning against each other’s lips. Your body twitches as you get further and further away, almost floating right out of your body. You’re exhausted, the energy and life draining right out of you as you milk their cocks of their own cum. It’s hot as it spurts inside of you, filling you up almost impossibly full. 

Kyle’s hand presses against the back of your head, his voice low in your ear. “Sleep.” 

You’re hungover. 

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes as you lay there on your stomach. Your head is throbbing, body weak as you groan in annoyance. You forgot to close the curtain last night. 

The sun is streaming in, warming your room. It smells like sex, your skin still sticky with sweat. Memories from the previous night begin to fill your mind as you come more and more into awareness. It barely feels real, almost like last night was a dream. Did you really catch the attention of those two beautiful men at the bar? Did you really bring them home and fuck them both? 

It feels like a dream, it might have been a dream. 

You crack your eyes open, letting out a groan. You are alone, the only remnant of the night before the scent of them still lingering in the air. They smelled good, sweet and musky, so strong you could almost taste it. They smelled good, even sweaty from the heat and exertion.

You can still feel their touch like a phantom left behind in your memory. The brush of their lips and fingers, Kyle’s head between your legs, the fullness of your body as they fucked you into one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. It was addicting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to feel as satisfied as you did last night, even with the way your head is throbbing and your body feels drained of all energy.  

It was all so perfect. 

It must have been a dream. You had too much to drink and fell asleep dreaming about two perfect men fucking you to the point you couldn’t remember your own name. There’s no way two men were such perfect matches for you and for each other. Perfection doesn’t exist. 

You roll over onto your back, your limbs heavy with exhaustion. How long had the three of you gone last night? You can’t remember much past your first orgasm. You’re not even sure you remember your first orgasm. 

It must have been a dream. 

Something catches your eye as you roll over, tugging the blanket up around your chin. You squint through the blurriness and the haze of exhaustion, staring at your nightstand. peripheral vision

No, it wasn't a dream. 

It was very real. 

There's a set of dog tags sitting on your nightstand. 

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[lowkeyerror]

Reunited

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: Angry mob, mega fluff, soft!Agatha (potentially ooc)

Summary: Though you have lost your powers, you still find yourself subject to the hardships of being a witch, as an angry mob chases you out of town. As you run, you remember that Agatha lives in the area, hopefully she's home.

An: Very soft, kind of short, self indulgent fluff. As always likes, reblogs, replies, and asks always are always welcomed 🫶 (not proofread)

Masterlist

You could feel your heart beating in sync with your feet touching the ground. Your breaths were being forced out of your mouth, as the cold night air glided across your skin. Your arms, pumping faster than they ever had before as you ran.

The sound of the mob behind you never dulled, no matter how fast you thought you were going.

You knew better than to turn around and check, it would only make you split your focus. The destination you had in mind was quickly approaching, but part of you was hesitant.

There was a chance the witch no longer resided in that area. It had been years since you had seen her, but she was your only hope. The ruins she had in place would keep the angry mob from getting to you.

You were a witch without power and the townsfolk knew that. You were no threat to them like this, they were just naturally violent creatures.

There had been an incident at the market, where they thought they saw you doing magic. You denied, but the bigger the crowd got, the worse your nerves got. You took off and they followed behind you; torches and pitchforks in hand.

You smack into something while running. At first you believe it to be a tree, but you see nothing ahead. It looks like more forest, but you are physically unable to go through the barrier.

She was still here.

“Agatha, Agatha, please it’s me, Y/n. I don’t have my magic, this mob is chasing me, please,” you whisper, against the field.

You hear their footsteps getting close and you go into full panic, abandoning your quiet tactic.

“AGATHA PLEASE!” You begin banging the invisible force, the sound echoes through the woods.

At your cry, you can hear them pick up speed and charge towards your direction.

“WITCH!”

You turn around your back leans against the field as your chest heaves in distress. You’re helpless as the crowd begins to pour into your space. Fear has never felt so strong in your body.

They begin to corner you, pitchforks and torches point at you from all angles. Before any physical harm can be done, you feel yourself being yanked backwards into the protected area.

The adrenaline wears off when you feel a strong arm wrapped around your torso. Your legs give out, but the person continues to hold you up.

“You ok, doll?”

Her voice feels like a sanctuary in the moment. The simple question overwhelms you quickly and you begin to break down. Tears stream down your face and you begin to sob.

Agatha turns you around to face her. She uses her free hand to smooth some of the hair on top of your head.

“You’re safe now.”

You lean against her clutching her shirt. She lets you for a little, before making the executive decision to carry you inside.

She goes to lay you on the couch, but you refuse to let go of her.

“Let me take care of the mob, and I’ll be right back, ok? It won’t take long.”

She looks at you for approval. Maybe if this was years ago, you would’ve told her no or tried to stop her, but you didn’t have it in you anymore. Your large eyes were bloodshot from the crying and your legs were sore from the running.

You comply as she sits you on the couch this time, “Ok.”

Agatha was surprised at your lack of argument. She didn't dwell on it long before heading out of the home.

It was true, whatever she did was quick, no longer than 5 minutes. You had curled far into yourself by the time she came back. Your feet dug into her couch as your knees were pulled to your chest, with your arms locked around you.

“Y/n,” your name was soft on her lips.

You look at her, tears still in your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn't know where else to go. If you got rid of them, I can leave.”

Agatha sits next to you, “Go where hun? Back to the village, to the cold of the forest? You can stay with me for a long as you want.”

“I can’t, I don't have anything to offer you,” you try to curl further into yourself, which seems nearly impossible.

Agatha grabs your hand, “I'm not asking for anything in return.”

“B-But-"

“Doll, I want you to stay,” Agatha lets out a sigh.

You meet her blue eyes, “Why?”

“I missed your company,” she speaks truthfully.

You blush at her honesty, diverting your gaze, “I missed you too.”

You subconsciously scoot a little closer to the woman. She takes the initiative, pulling you fully into her. The movement startles you at first, but her warm embrace calms you.

Your legs are on either side of hers, while your head rests in the crook of her neck.

“What happened to your magic?”

You deflate at the question, wishing that you could hide from it. Agatha uses her free hand to gently cup your face, coaxing it out of her neck. Her thumb moves gingerly across your cheek a few times.

You focus on that feeling when you speak, “Sometime after our last encounter, I went looking for a coven. Thought I’d have a better chance of surviving in a group. I found one, thought they were kind enough, I thought so at least. One day we camped out somewhere, when I woke up, they were gone and so was my magic. I’m lucky I'm not dead.”

“I’ll find them, take care of them for you doll.” Agatha’s words were calm, but you could see the fire behind her eyes.

You place your hand over hers, “It doesn’t matter anymore Ags.”

“We should've never parted ways,” Agatha’s eyes pierce through yours.

You cast your gaze down, “I was only ever slowing you down.”

She shakes her head, “Sometimes I needed it. I was reckless, but I would never admit it until you’d say it.”

You could feel her eyes drop down to your lips. Her loose grip on you, tightening slightly.

“Agatha,” your voice a quiet breathless warning.

Her eyes go back to yours, “Hmmm.”

“Are you sure?” Your voice portrays your insecurities.

She pulls back some, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You try to look away, but her finger hooks under your chin, “I’m not useful anymore, I’m just some powerless girl.”

She searches for something across your face, “You’re so much more than your magic. You’ve always been more than your magic.”

“And you still-”

“I’ve always wanted you Y/n, nothing is going to change that,” her voice is unwavering as she speaks.

You blush at the conviction in her tone. You nod subtly and cautiously lean forward. Your eyes drop to her lips. Agatha is certain when she eagerly leans in to meet you.

Her lips are softer than you remember or maybe she's just being delicate with you. Her touch, her movements, everything feels like she is breathing life into you.

It's partially because she is. Her fingertips were slightly pressed against yours and she was passing small doses of her magic into yours.

She was the one to pull away first, longing to look into your eyes. When you open them, your amber irsises greet her. The twinkle in your eyes pull a smile at the end of her lips.

“Did you just? Agatha I can’t, take it back. This is …”

“My way of apologizing. We should've stayed together. It’s my fault you lost your magic, so it only makes sense I put it back.”

“You’re always so different with me,” this time it’s her that blushes under your stare.

“What can I say doll, you bring it out of me.”

You toy with the collar of her shirt. A nervous habit you have always indulged in.

“What is it, Y/n?”

Though you feel shy, your eyes flicker to her's, “I have never loved anyone the way I love you.”

Her eyes soften more than they ever had before, “I love you too.”

This time you take the initiative to peck her lips. She chases your lips as you pull away. You continue giving her small pecks until you are in a fit of laughter.

Agatha smiles as she listens to your laughter, but she continues to kiss other parts of your face, eventually trailing down to your neck. The vibration of your laughter in your throat tickles against her lips.

Now it’s her head that rests in your neck. Your hands tangle into her hair, playing with the ends.

“The terrifyingly sinister witch killer is just a big ol' softy.”

She shakes her and places one more kiss on your shoulder.

“Only for you.”

[syrupfog]

The first time Penguin sees him, it’s in the auction house at Sabaody, standing on the opposite side of the room. He’s hard to miss; tall and imposing, a mess of blond hair and a LOUD polka dot shirt. 

He leans over to Shachi. “Does this boiler suit make me look cool?”

Shachi smacks him upside the head. “No,” he says. “Stop making eyes at the enemy.” 

“He can’t even SEE my eyes,” Penguin sulks.

The second time Penguin sees him, it’s in Wano. And it’s, like, a whole thing. There’s a lot going on, and Penguin’s a bit BUSY, honestly, he’s got some other things to deal with. 

But he notices that the guy’s, like, seriously bulked up. It would be hard not to notice, really.

Penguin flexes his own muscles. He can’t see much of any change. Especially under the boiler suit. 

Shachi squints at him. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks. 

Penguin smacks him. “Shut up,” he says. “And give me those binoculars back.”

The THIRD time Penguin sees him, things are a bit different. 

And by a bit different, he means “SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK SHIT WHERE DID BEPO GO? SHACHI— FUCK WHERE IS SHACHI—“ 

It’s HOT on this island, boiler suit stripped down and tied around his waist and Penguin is still sweating buckets as he runs down alleys and side streets with the sun beating down on his back. There’s only about twelve people running behind him, yelling angry-sounding things that Penguin doesn’t bother deciphering because WHERE THE FUCK IS EVERYONE?

The bundle in his arms isn’t helping the heat stroke quickly approaching either. He’s gonna need Law to give him a rehydrating IV or something after this and then he’s going to be in trouble for wasting resources. 

Racing around a corner leads him to a crowded market street — a good sign, maybe he can get lost between the stalls. Or maybe not— the angry mob behind him seems to be gaining and they’re yelling honestly very rude things. WHERE the FUCK are his CREW— 

That’s when he sees him. HOW they ended up on the same island is a mystery, but—

“Hey! Oi!” Penguin yells, making a beeline straight for him. 

Killer, of the Kid pirates, is at a stall perusing mangos. He looks up, blue and white stripes zeroing in on Penguin. GOD the guy has some wide shoulders. 

“Yeah, you!!” Penguin yells. “Offense or Defence??”

“Uhhhhhhh,” Killer says, tilting his head. Very calm for a guy who MUST see the mob behind Penguin. “Depends on the game.” 

“Now!!” Penguin shouts, getting within throwing distance. He can practically SEE the question marks popping above Killer’s head. 

“…Defense?”

“Then CATCH” 

Penguin throws the bundle at him and turns on a heel, skidding into place mere feet in front of Killer and facing down the approaching mob. He sticks his hands deep into the pockets of the boiler suit and draws out two brass knuckles, because god these outfits are NOT good for hiding larger weapons in. 

“Uhhhhh,” says Killer behind him, voice echoey under the helmet. “Maybe I should be offence, actually.” 

“TOO LATE,” Penguin yells, charging toward the mob that has been quickly thrown into confusion now that their target has turned around.

Honestly, there’s not even any burning pitchforks or anything. It’s just a dozen or so citizens with sticks up their asses (and in their hands), and Penguin, well, he’s had to fight Clione for the last ice cream bar. 

He comes away with one nasty scrape to the cheek and a bunch of blood splatters on his outfit that Law will enjoy testing for STDs. When he finally shoves the brass knuckles back in his pockets, he turns around to find Killer still standing in front of the mango stall (although the seller has long since run for it)

And the bundle squirming around in his hands. 

“You good?” Killer asks. 

“Are you holding her upside down?” Penguin asks. 

Killer looks down at the bundle in his arms. He flips it over, and the squirming stops. A head pops out. A small child with an unnervingly large mouth full of triangular teeth, and a head of shockingly blond hair in two messy tails, is looking bright eyed at Penguin. 

Penguin gives the small child a thumbs up. 

She giggles, showing off her many unnerving teeth. There’s a second set behind the first.

“So,” says Killer, conversationally. “She yours?” 

“Oh god no,” Penguin says. “Found her chowing down on some offering to a local god and the townspeople were getting all angry at her.” He walks over, picking up a mango and holding it up to her. She neatly bites through half.

“Cool,” says Killer. 

“You got parents, kid?” Penguin asks. 

The small child shakes her head, mango juice dripping from her mouth. 

Penguin frowns. “Family?” 

The small child shakes her head again. She doesn’t seem sad. She probably didn’t know them.

“Aww,” says Killer. Penguin looks up at him. He’s oddly expressive for a man in a helmet. 

A chill runs up his spine, though, and he turns away, recognizing the feeling of conquerors haki. Sure enough, the captain of the Kid pirates is walking through the center of the now deserted market street. 

“Killer!” He yells, stalking over to them and ignoring Penguin entirely. That’s fair. Penguin likes it that way. “What’d you fucking do??” 

Killer tilts his head. With both hands he holds up the fishchild. “Got a baby,” he says brightly.

Kid blinks at the child. “What the fuck,” he says. 

Killer lowers the child and then points with one hand at Penguin. “His baby,” he says. 

“Well,” Penguin hedges. 

“What the fuck,” says Kid.

“I’m keeping it,” says Killer. 

“Her,” says Penguin. 

“That makes you a grandpa,” says Killer. 

“FUCK no it doesn’t,” shouts Kid. 

The child laughs. 

“You can’t have a BABY with the ENEMY,” Kid yells. 

“Well,” says Penguin. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, Mom.”

“Fuck you,” spits Kid. 

“She has her father’s eyes,” says Killer. 

Penguin’s not sure which of them is supposed to be the father. 

“My hair, though.” 

Ah, Penguin is the father. 

“We’ll have to work out custody agreements,” Killer continues. 

“I’d like a date first,” Penguin says

Honestly it’s fitting that that’s the first full sentence he gets out, somehow. 

“You can’t date my second in command!” Kid yells. 

“I mean, we have a kid together,” Killer points out. “You’re a bit late.” 

Penguin is halfway to a genius response of some kind when he sees  blue light wash over them. It’s all he can do to mime “call me” at Killer before he’s shambled back to the ship. 

“You’re late,” Law tells him. 

“I’m an unwed mother now I think,” Penguin says. 

Law sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to know.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 16: Well-Versed Pas De Deux

Screenshot Credit: @neverscreens

Bearblr Promptober Day 16: Bonfire

Summary: Carmy is struggling with menu changes for the next month, his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) reminds him of the bonfire they were supposed to attend, and she does a little thing that gets right under his skin. Smut.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, mention of family trauma, mention of The Devil (aka Chef David), fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. If you want to keep following this set of works, you can follow the #cb journal tag.

Also, if random letters or words are white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

16 Oct 2024

My apartment, now back up to two bad radiators (this is how I’m keeping track of time anymore, how many radiators are still working. These fucking pieces of shit can go burn in hell with the landlord. I swear to God, I’m having nightmares of them breaking at critical moments, this is stupid as fuck. RADIATORS.). I’m at the dining table with three half-formed dishes for the November menu changes staring at me—one of them was the duck with apple glaze that Tina proposed, I’m pretty sure. The others? No idea. This head’s a colander. I don’t know how I do anything, for fuck’s sake. Best chef award, my ass.

“Carmy? Baby?” Darling’s voice ripped me out of my thoughts.

She hovered between the kitchen and living room. Had going-out clothes on, that sweater with the—were they cables? I think they’re called cables—her fleece-lined jeans that she patched the knee of with flannel from a very old shirt of mine, hat. Holding a scarf.

“Hm? Sorry. Sorry, I’m… fuck.” I dragged my hands through my hair, rubbed my eyes. “Sorry, these menu changes are killing me. I didn’t hear a word you said, I’m so sorry.”

She shuffled over, wrapped her arms around me. “It’s okay; it happens.”

I nuzzled her sweater. Took a deep inhale of her scent.

“I was asking if you still want to go to the bonfire.”

Bonfire? My stomach dropped through the floor. Fuck, that was today, wasn’t it?

“Shit.” I looked at the clock. 7:09 pm.

“It’s okay, we’ll still make it on time if we leave in 15 minutes. If you still want to go.”

“I-I don’t, uh—fuck.” Shit. My face flooded with warmth. Shit, I even had it in my calendar, how the fuck did I forget? I pressed the heels of my hands into my cheekbones as if I could somehow physically force the heat back out of my face. Or maybe covering my eyes makes me feel safer, somehow? I don’t know, that’s a question for the eventual therapist (who I feel bad for, by the way. Fucking hell, therapy is going to suck).

Darling brushed her hand up and down my sternum. “Hey, hey, breathe.”

I heaved a breath. My head spun.

“I want to hear about the menu, but if you’re going to go, you should decide now so we can leave on time.”

“I-I don’t know? I don’t know, I need to think.” I didn’t mean to hiss it between my teeth. My face got warmer. Now my chest felt warm, like I’d just opened an oven.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to appropriately appreciate the silence Darling offers me. Like in that moment, she alerted me to being pressed for time, but then she just gave me runway to think, to broil under my own skin for a bit and then come to the realization that the sky isn’t falling and that whatever pitchfork crowd I conjured in my anxiety-riddled mind didn’t exist. I didn’t even realize that’s what was going on with me at the time—why I involuted and imploded so ferociously when I perceived myself fucking up. A lifetime of violent retaliation for mistakes meant that even when the logical part of my mind knew that I wouldn’t be pierced with verbal javelins, or have to dodge something thrown at me, or assuage a tsunami of an emotional assault, I got wound up like they were coming. Those cavernous scars ran to the bone. And band-aids and skin glue wouldn’t fix the damage all the way down.

And Darling knew that, too.

“I, um. I’m-I’m not sure about going,” I managed. My breaths were short, bit like that time I had pneumonia as a kid, but the burning in my face had subsided.

“Do you want to go?”

How was I supposed to answer that? The apple glaze for the duck could use some brightness. Not acidity. Maybe something herbal? Lemon zest?

Wait, she asked me a question.

“Shit. Uh, I-I don’t know. I mean, it’d be nice, but these fucking menu changes.” I nudged the plates away from me. “Fuck my life…”

She hooked my chin and turned my gaze up to her. “Can I make a proposal, pretty boy?”

Something warm stirred in the pit of my stomach at hearing her call me that again. Fuck, she looked gorgeous. Had this little sparkle in her eyes because of the way the lights came through the blinds, put on lipstick for the first time in a while, and damn if it didn’t make her look like a million dollars. If it didn’t bring out the lively, rich color in her face, the love in her smile. Her necklace—did she say it was some kind of pearls? Vintage?—shimmering white, shifting iridescent tones, landed half a centimeter above the notch between her collarbones as if the best architect in the world composed this masterpiece of visual design.

“Please,” I whispered. Please, you have all of my attention. Every last thread of it. Please, please, for the love of whatever the fuck you believe in, call me pretty boy again.

“Take your notebook with you, hm?” She ran her fingers through my hair. “I’ll drive on the way over, so you can write down any ideas that come up. You might have some ideas at the bonfire itself—you know, the smell of the flames, the food there. And if you need it, you can always head to the car and write in the quiet.”

I took her hand and pressed my lips to her palm. Soft. A bit cooler in temperature. “I should get out, huh?”

“A change of scenery might be helpful for you right now. And I do want to go.”

I nodded, pressed one last kiss to her palm. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Mother of pearl.

That’s what her necklace was made of.

…..

The bonfire didn’t give me many ideas, but Syd did.

“Is there any other way to brighten the apple glaze?” she asked. “Like do you have to add something?”

Some of Darling’s friends had organized this little thing, some kind of Fall tradition for them. I was her plus one. Upsides: quieter than a big public thing; at night, so plenty of chances to Irish Goodbye into the shadows (is that offensive?); trees nearby, so I could just become a tree man (there’s a word for this. Darling told me, I’ll write it in if I remember. Cryptid. That’s the word) in the middle of it all, I guess. Downsides: more intimate setting, so higher expectation to socialize; at night, so who even knew what beasts and ghouls lurked in the shadows; and the trees were suffocatingly gigantic. I could get crushed by trying to look up at them. Also, several people stared at me like I was a rack of lamb, and it made me deeply uncomfortable. It did start getting a bit raucous about 30 minutes in, and I’d sent a (cryptic, now that I think about it) text to Sydney on the drive over, so she called me at the perfect time for me to duck out and get a break.

So, there I was, about 15 feet away from the bonfire, crouched against a tree to give my back a break, chill of the night air starting to creep under and around my jacket, watching Darling laugh at a good story, meeting her eyes to check in, watching her, meeting her eyes.

“What, like, take something away?”

Like The Devil told me to do?

“Yeah, or, like, maybe try a different type of apple or a different sort of… I don’t know.” She sighed. “We sure we wanna stick to an apple glaze?”

“It’s a solid idea. And it was Tina’s.” I was determined to make it work. She’d done too much for me to not try to make it work. “Finely diced green apples? Orange zest? I could try taking out the cinnamon.”

“What’s that gonna do?”

“It’ll take out the bass note. Cinnamon sits low in the palate, it’s-it’s a bass note. Means we get more tenor.”

“I’m sorry, are you using music terms?” Ugh, I could hear her smiling.

Warmth pricked at my cheeks. I hate that my voice came out so small when I said, “It’s how I think.”

Sydney either didn’t notice or decided not to aggravate the situation. “Okay. So, take out the cinnamon.”

Darling tilted her head at me.

“Yeah. I’ll give it a try. I, uh, I gotta go, Darling needs me.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Let me know how menu goes tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I headed back over to the bonfire. She offered me a s’more—very needed, fucking hell, I just needed some junk food sometimes to reset after sampling duck and bluefin and wagyu so much. Cheap chocolate, half-stale baking spices, half-charred fake vanilla. Caramelized sugar. Sharp snap of graham cracker, the bubbly warmth of melted marshmallow. She swept a bit of melted chocolate from my lip. Sucked it off her thumb.

Had no fucking idea how bad it wrecked me.

Not until we got back home, and I needed to get clothes off and yank her forward by her belt loop and impatiently shove her hands towards my hair. She giggled that saccharine melody, tangled her fingers through my curls, and then screeched in surprised delight when I just picked her up and marched straight for the bedroom.

“Carmy! Goodness!”

My kisses were sloppy because I couldn’t stop grinning. “Don’t wake the neighbors.”

Maybe it was the 4 sips of cheap whiskey I had at the bonfire.

She yanked off my t-shirt and coiled around me, her skin cool against mine, while I made short work of the rest of our clothes.

“God, you’re so warm all the time,” she mumbled, nuzzling my shoulder.

I found a few moments to slow back down. To just enjoy how her skin felt on mine, how her body fit perfectly right in my hands. Traced over the round of her hip, the curve of her thighs, palmed at her perfect tits.

“No, no,” she said, pulling back to smirk at me. “You’re supposed to be fucking me right now.”

I kissed her. “You’re cute.”

“You’re hot.” She untangled herself from me and flopped onto the bed, stretching her arms like a satisfied cat. Faint light spilling in from the windows cast these deep, pitchlike shadows over her form, highlighting, in breathtaking contrast, every feature on her face, every facet of her architecture. Should I have thought about it any further, I might’ve absorbed the sight longer, embedded it in my mind, attempted to recapture it at the end of my pencil, but her giggle drew my attention.

“Now rail me already.”

I appreciate her bluntness so much.

She tensioned fistfuls of my hair when I trailed wet kisses up the inside of her thigh. Draped her other leg over my shoulder with practiced ease. This is a familiar dance, a well-versed pas de deux. One where I paint my hand up and down that thigh on my shoulder to soothe her when my lips finally meet her cunt, and she lets out that whimper that cinches the tight, burning, merciless heat of arousal deep in my navel. Where she breathlessly begs and whimpers and whines my name when she’s wracked by an orgasm on my tongue, more so when she’s ruined under me with her legs tight around my waist, tight enough to leave bruises along my hip bones, for me to feel sore when moving around the kitchen the next day—reminders of her, like the scratches I’d get, the lipstick stains I’d guard under my clothes and that I’d try to keep around as long as they’d last.

Maybe it was just love, by the way.

That’s an option, you know, Carmen. You just love her that much.

“I’m so close,” she mumbled. Her fingernails worried sore spots on my scalp, but I couldn’t find it in me to stop her from doing it. She was so tight around my fingers, so wet on my tongue, so hot—I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. I don’t want to get used to it.

I withdrew my fingers, and she tugged particularly hard on my hair. “No, no, don’t stop,” she wailed.

“Ow, baby girl, too hard.”

She let go immediately, pet my face to apologize. “But I’m… oh…”

I’d crawled onto the bed. She pulled herself up towards the headboard, coiled her limbs around me and yanked me down into a starved kiss.

“Fuck me already, please, pretty boy.”

Who was I not to oblige?

[mikashisus]

TOO SWEET!

SUMMARY: it's halloween, and your plans with your best friend are cut short. arlecchino, your intimidating yet friendly neighbor, asks you for a favor, which eventually leads to a startling confession.

PAIRING: lyney x vampire!fem!reader (can be read as gn tbh)

warnings: fluff/humor, slight angst, blood + blood drinking (vampire core!)

wc: 3.6k

notes: partly bullshittery honestly. also yes this was heavily inspired by 'my babysitter's a vampire' bc i literally love that show with my whole heart and i will forever be angry that it was removed from netflix. this was barely edited so i apologize for any errors 😔🙏

this is my entry for the @/stellaronhvnters halloween event! prompt: vampires!

You cursed, the line going straight to voicemail. Tonight was Halloween, and your best friend, Citlali, wasn’t answering her phone. 

She was shit at answering her phone in general, but tonight was special. Four months ago, the two of you planned what you were going to do on Halloween night, even going as far as to set event reminders on your phones.

First, you were going to go to a haunted amusement park and get scared out of your minds. Then, you were going to go see that new trashy horror movie that was supposedly only good because Fontaine’s biggest star, Furina, was starring as the main character. Finally, you were going to buy fast food and return to your house for a sleepover. 

Wasn’t like you could sleep, anyway. 

Yet, it seemed as if all your plans were going down the drain, as not only was she not answering her phone, but she was a no-show at the amusement park. You were waiting around for about an hour, but there was no sign of her at all. You debated calling her mom, your finger hovering over the contact. 

Quickly pocketing your phone and getting back into your car, you decided you’d just go back home and ask her about it tomorrow. To say you were disappointed was an understatement, especially since you’ve been looking forward to this night for months. 

As you pulled into your driveway and angrily exited your car, you saw your neighbor’s door slamming shut. You shivered. Your neighbor, Arlecchino, was a scary and intimidating woman with three children around the same age as you. Even though your families were cordial with each other, you never made the move to befriend her kids. You didn’t think you’d ever get along anyway, especially since you all had extremely different interests and belonged to different social circles. 

Before you even had the chance to make it to your front door, she called out to you. You mentally cursed yourself out and turned to face her, greeting her with a shy smile. 

She returned it with a cordial one of her own. 

“Are you just coming home from an outing with friends?” She questioned, eyeing the purse hanging from your arm. 

You let out a heavy sigh. “I’m afraid not. She bailed at the last minute.” 

“I see. I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“It is what it is. I’ll text her in the morning.” You shrugged. “Did you need something?” 

Arlecchino, although intimidating, was a lovely person to hold a conversation with. She was a businesswoman after all. Conversing with others was in her job description. 

Suddenly, you felt hungry. Deciding you’d eat after Arlecchino left, you checked your phone for the time. It was still early enough that the streets would be filled with people, so you’d have to wait another hour or so— unless you were stealthy, but knowing you and your curse of being a klutz, you’d cause a scene almost immediately. 

And you couldn’t have the entire neighborhood show up at your door with pitchforks, so you’d just have to wait until the crowds dispersed. 

“Yes, actually…” The woman in front of you noticed your frantic fidgeting and changed the subject. “Are you alright, (Name)?” 

You let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m fine, I just haven’t eaten much today, so…” 

That was a lie. You haven’t had your fill in over a week, and your cravings were continuously getting worse. If you waited even a night more, you might just pass out. 

She hummed in understanding. “I see. Well, I was hoping you were free to watch my darling children tonight,” she said, “Clervie and I have dinner plans, and our usual babysitter canceled due to a family emergency. I’d greatly appreciate it if you could look over them for us while we’re out. I’ll pay you handsomely for your trouble.” 

You were more than surprised at her proposal. Any chance to gain easy cash was a welcome one in your book, but you were also confused. Weren’t her kids your age? Why was she asking you to babysit them if they could take care of themselves? 

You knew Freminet was younger than you, and that was understandable if she wanted you to watch him, but Lyney and Lynette too? Weren’t they also eighteen like you? 

Noticing your confused stare, she elaborated. “Lyney and Lynette decided to blatantly disobey my rules a few nights ago. As a result, I’ve deemed them unable to watch Freminet on their own. That is why I have asked you to do it instead.” 

She sighed, placing a hand to her temple, and you knew that look– it was the expression your mother wore every time you did something to piss her off. 

“Sure,” you answered, shrugging, “my plans were canceled, as you know, so I don’t mind.” 

She sent you a tight-lipped smile. “You have my thanks. There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, and you can find all our drinks out in the garage. Please, help yourself.” She placed a delicate hand to the small of your back and led you into her house.

Now that you thought about it, you’ve never been inside her house before. Maybe you have, once when you were still young, but you didn’t recall it. So, in your mind, this was your first time entering the old house you always considered to look like a haunted mansion on the outside. 

You sent a quick text to Citlali, hoping she’d answer, though you knew at this point that your night together wouldn’t be able to come to fruition. 

The house was loud as you entered, with Clervie, Arlecchino’s wife, arguing about something with who you presumed to be Lyney. In the living room, the tv was on, with an old classic horror film playing. Freminet was seated on the couch, his legs crossed, and his eyes glued to the tv screen. Lynette was lying next to him, her feet sitting on his lap and her head dangling over the armrest of the couch as she scrolled through social media on her phone. 

In another room, you could hear the voices of two more children. Weird, you thought, I thought they only had three kids. As if reading your mind, Arlecchino answered your question. 

“We’re housing foster children at the moment. They’re sweet children, you’ll find them to be cooperative.” 

With a nod, you continued following her into the kitchen. There, as you suspected, sat Lyney on one of the barstools, arguing with his mother. Clervie was dressed to the nines in a long, white dress that hugged her curves and had a sweetheart neckline. A necklace with a skull sat around her neck, and her hair was pulled up into an elegant updo. 

“I told you, this is because you broke me and your Father’s trust,” she scolded her son with a pointed look, “now, we must be going.” She picked up her purse as soon as you entered, and headed straight for your direction. 

She sent you a smile, and it was then you wondered if she was an angel sent from heaven. She embraced you excitedly, holding you tightly. “You’ve grown so big! Thank you so much for taking these rascals off our hands for us.” 

You returned her smile, finding her way easier to talk to than Arlecchino. “Of course, it’s not a problem.” 

But there was going to be a problem if you didn’t eat soon. The more you dilly-dallied, the more your hunger increased. 

Clervie thanked you once more, promising to pay you as soon as they returned from their outing. She pressed a quick kiss to Lyney’s head and bid her farewells to the other children before her and Arlecchino were out the door, leaving you standing idly by yourself and a dumbfounded Lyney. 

You turned to him, only to see him staring at you wide-eyed and his jaw slack. Lynette (you didn’t even know when she appeared) was standing beside her brother, a way calmer expression on her face than her brother’s. She blinked at you, before waving politely. 

“When Father told us she was going to find a last minute babysitter, you were not what I had in mind.” She told you bluntly. 

Shrugging, you eyed the bowl of apples on the island and made a beeline for them. “Trust me, I was just as surprised as you. I wasn’t expecting to be babysitting tonight, I was supposed to be getting high with my best friend.” 

Taking a bite out of the apple, you let out a sigh of relief. This would have to satisfy your hunger for now, just until you could slip away and quickly grab a real bite. 

Lynette shared a look with her brother. “Citlali, right?” 

You nodded. “Yeah. Nerdy, know-it-all, has an obsession with the school’s lab.” 

She hummed. “I’ve partnered with her a few times before on a project.” 

“Yikes, sorry.” You chuckled, knowing how hardcore your best friend could be when it came to projects. 

“It’s fine. She’s cool.” Lynette shrugged halfheartedly and reached for an apple. 

Lyney, who had been staring at you this whole time as if he’d seen a ghost, finally cleared his throat and brought your attention to him. “So, uh… sorry Father dragged you into this. It’s our fault you’re here right now.” 

Lynette nodded, agreeing with her brother. Truthfully, you were a bit upset you were here instead of in your bedroom watching Coraline or Halloweentown, but you were also glad you didn’t have to spend the night alone. Your parents were out, your younger sister was trick-or-treating with her friends in another neighborhood, and your grandparents were on a vacation in Mondstadt. 

“We kinda forgot to watch Freminet a few nights ago when Father and Mother were at Heloir and Foltz’s choir concert,” Lyney continued, looking away bashfully, “and when Mother found out, we were in for a stern talking-to.” 

Lynette sighed softly. “Forgive us. Please.” 

You smiled at them. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I would’ve had to spend the night alone otherwise.” 

Checking your phone, you could feel your hands shake. You needed to eat, or else you’d collapse within the next hour. That, and you had a bad feeling about your best friend’s lack of response to your texts. Usually, she would’ve responded by now with an explanation, but there was none. She didn’t even open your messages. 

Did she even have her phone on? You checked her location, only to see she was in her house. Odd. She definitely should’ve responded by now. You were getting a bit worried. 

“But uh, I need to go.” 

The twins gave you a confused look, and Lyney quickly hurried after you as you bolted for the front door. “Wait, wait. Didn’t you just say—“ 

“Look.” You turned to them with an agitated expression. “I’m hungry, and my best friend isn’t answering her phone, and I’m worried something has happened to her. You guys are completely capable of watching your brother on your own. You don’t need me.” 

Lyney seemed to deflate like a balloon at your words. “But what about Father? She’ll be pissed if she finds out you bailed—“ 

“Then I’ll get back before she gets home.” You stated confidently, swinging the front door open. 

The twins watched you sprint down the driveway and down the road. Lynette turned to her brother. “Idiot. You scared her away.” 

“What!?” He slammed the front door shut and followed his sister into the kitchen. “How’d I screw this up??” 

“Because you were gawking at her like she’s a full course meal,” she picked up her phone and opened a bag of chips, “seriously, you need to get over her and stop drooling. It’s sad watching you fumble.” 

Lyney pouted. “Lynette…” 

She looked up at him briefly. “I’m just stating a fact. She’s way out of your league.” 

It was true that Lyney had a big fat crush on you. Ever since you moved in next door when you were children, he has had feelings for you. He was perfectly content to watch you from afar during elementary school and middle school, but ever since your first year of high school, he had enough of that puppy love. 

He wanted to get closer to you, to befriend you and maybe turn that friendship into something more. Yet, you never acknowledged him. You never even looked his way. It seemed as if he was nothing to you, just another student attending your school. He was jealous the first time you got a boyfriend, and he was devastated when the one time you did talk to him, you completely forgot who he was the next day. 

Now that you showed up at his house, he had some hope. Hope that he’d finally get to befriend you. But… you walked off, and he wasn’t sure you’d ever speak to him again. He lost once more. 

He pouted like a kicked puppy, and Lynette could only ignore his whining for so long. Finally, when she had enough of his self-pitied sighing, she leapt off the barstool and grabbed her jacket. “Let’s go.” 

Lyney perked up, raising a brow as Lynette threw his jacket at him and pulled on her sneakers. “Where are we going?” 

“After her,” she said as if it was obvious, “duh.” 

Lyney shuffled after her, pulling his own shoes on. He tossed a glance towards Freminet, who was too engrossed in the movie he was watching to even notice his siblings getting ready to leave. 

“But what about Freminet, Heloir, and Foltz?” 

“They’re fine. If we left them alone before and they didn’t burn the house down, then now shouldn’t be a problem either.” 

Lyney sighed. He loved his sister, but she was a handful sometimes. Even more so than he was, on occasion. With a small whine, he followed her out the door, shutting it behind him. 

The streets were mostly empty. You were lucky you left when you did, otherwise no one would be on the streets. You didn’t like feeding directly off of someone, but you were left with no choice. 

The vendor you usually bought from was away on vacation this weekend with his family, so you were unable to get your fill from his wares. 

He warned you, you thought, he told you weeks ago he wouldn’t be here on Hallows Eve. And yet… you still forgot. 

“Feed from an animal.” Your mother told you, but you outright refused. 

You refused to touch animals. They didn’t deserve to be harmed simply cause you needed to feed. When you told your mother that, she didn’t understand. 

“So you’d rather harm a human?” 

You never answered her question, but she already knew the answer, so there was no need. 

You spotted a man riding his bike and decided he would be your food tonight. Although you hated feeding from men (their blood didn’t taste as good— in your opinion), you’d rather them than an innocent woman. 

In an instant, you had him down on the ground, your fangs digging into the side of his neck. You kept one hand over his mouth and the other on his shoulder to keep him from running. He clawed at your hands, leaving scratches that hurt like hell, but you knew they’d heal up later, so you didn’t care. 

A loud crash startled you, and the now unconscious man was left on the sidewalk. You wiped the blood from your mouth and glanced at him. He’d live. You only needed a little bit of his blood to satiate you until the vendor returned in two days with a whole month’s worth of food for you. 

You eyed the alleyway closest to you with narrowed brows. “Who’s there? Show yourself.” 

Just in case there was a witness, you weren’t afraid to also feed from them. You couldn’t have the entire city after your head, after all. Imagining your neighbors showing up to your door with pitchforks in their hands did sound a bit amusing. Though, pitchforks were too outdated. 

Maybe they’d show up with guns instead, who knows. 

It was silent as you waited for whoever was behind the dumpster to move. The more you waited, the more impatient you became. Your eye twitched. You took a step forward, ready to go to them yourselves, when two people stepped out from behind the dumpster— two familiar people. 

Your eyes widened. “Lyney? Lynette!?” you stared at them in surprise, your jaw falling slack as you tried to string together your own thoughts. 

Lyney could feel his heart pounding against his chest. There was blood on your lips and around your mouth, shiny and fresh. He could see the body on the ground behind you, and he could spot your fangs protruding from your mouth. 

Were you… a vampire? 

He had his suspicions when he got a quick glimpse of your fangs an hour ago, but he also didn’t want to jump to conclusions so quickly— it was Halloween, after all. In the end, his gut feeling was correct, and now he wasn’t sure whether he should run for his life or interrogate the hell out of you. 

What does one do when they find out their neighbor of all people is a vampire?  

There isn’t really a handbook for this stuff. There should be, he thought. 

Lynette was more composed, but Lyney could tell she also harbored a bit of fear in her heart too. Judging by the way her eyes were blown wide and her shoulders were tense, he could tell she was prepared to book it at a moment’s notice. 

“I… I promise this isn’t what it looks like—“ 

“Are you sure about that!?” Lyney interrupted you, pointing to the unconscious man behind you. “Because it sure as hell looks like you just drank that man’s blood! Like… like a vampire!” 

You sighed, cutting to the chase. The clock was ticking and you were tired. “Y’know what? Whatever, it is what it looks like. I’m a vampire.” 

The nonchalance of your words threw the twins for a loop. They sputtered, opening and closing their mouths like fishes out of water. You stared at them, waiting for a whole slew of questions to be thrown your way. 

They didn’t come until a few moments later, and you were glad the silence was finally broken. Any more of that awkward silence and you likely would’ve cried. 

“How— what!?” 

Your stomach rumbled, and you cursed under your breath. How were you still hungry? That man’s blood should’ve been enough to satiate you. You checked your phone, and to your relief, Citlali finally replied to your worried messages. 

The contents of her texts made your blood boil. A growl involuntarily escaped your lips and the twins flinched at the sound. 

“Listen,” you spat, pocketing your phone, “I’m hungry and my best friend just texted me saying she got bit by my ex-boyfriend. I don’t have time to sit here and explain shit to you!” 

Your voice raised each sentence, and your apparent anger was making your hunger worse somehow. “If you want the full sob story, ask me tomorrow! But tonight is an overall shitty night for me, and all I wanna do is get back to my house, with my stomach full, and go the fuck to bed.” 

You turned on your heel, your chest heaving, and began speed walking down the sidewalk back to your house. You tried calling Citlali, but she wasn’t answering, and now you were even more furious than before. 

“Wait!” Lyney called out, catching up to you. 

“I don’t have time for this!” You yelled back, about to fly away, but the next words from his mouth startled you into a halt. 

“Y-You can drink from me! As much as you need!” 

You kept your back to him, mulling over his pleas in your head. Was he seriously offering himself up on a silver platter? 

Usually, you were vehemently against drinking blood from anyone unless your vendor was out of stock or like now, on vacation and you couldn’t reach him. It went against the promise you made to yourself when you first became a vampire— when your idiot ex didn’t take your feelings into account and turned you without caring about the consequences it’d cause for you. 

And now he turned Citlali, too, and quite frankly, you felt a little more than just betrayal. First he turned you, and then the person you cared the most about. He really wanted to make your life miserable, didn’t he? 

With a sigh, you turned to face the twins, who were giving each other an uneasy look. Lynette placed a hand on Lyney’s arm. 

“Are you sure about this, brother? What if you die?” 

“I would never kill someone,” you stated firmly, “I only drink until they go unconscious. I never drink to kill, only to satiate my hunger until my vendor returns to town with his blood supply restocked.” 

Lynette was still wary, but she slowly lowered her arm and nodded curtly in understanding. 

You shifted your gaze to Lyney, who was fidgeting ever so slightly. You could hear his heart hammering against his ribcage and you could sense the fear he was trying so desperately to hide with a neutral expression. 

“Are you sure, Lyney?” You questioned, raising a brow. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Y-Yes, I’m sure.” You could hear the obvious stutter in his voice, but you chose not to comment on it. 

If he was sure, then who were you to refuse free blood? 

You stepped closer to him, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “This’ll hurt,” you muttered, watching the way his lip trembled a bit, “thank you.”

Your fangs sank into his neck, and the sweet taste of his blood hit your tongue.

notes: this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy and everything was starting to not make sense so i decided to just cut the rest and stick with this.

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[roadkillremi]

11 out of 11

Kinktober '23

Happy Halloween

Sub!Randy X F!Dom!Reader

MasterList. Kinktober '23

Summary : Randy wants you after a few too many drinks. Characters are 18+

Warnings : MINORS DNI, Semi-Public sex, under aged drinking, language, phrase, p in V, unprotected, dry humping(?), Dom Reader, Randy looking down readers sweater. Semi proof-read.

A/N - Randy is dressed up as Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th Part 2, Reader is dressed up as Freddy Kruger from Nightmare on Elm Street.

You held Randy's hand as he knocked on Stus' door. Stu answered with a beer in his hands, the music flooded from the door. His brown hair was gelled down and he has a leather jacket clinging to his figure.

"What are you supposed to be?-" Randy blurted. Stus eyes darkened a bit, "A greaser- Tatum wanted to be a pink lady or something... Plus don't I look hot?!" He did a little spin for you two.

"Sure-" Randy answered trying to push his way inside. Stu stopped him with his hand, "What are you two?.."

"Freddy and Jason-" Randy breathed. Stu tilted his head in confusion, you grabbed Randy's shoulder pulling him back.

"I'm Freddy. He's Jason. It stared with a dumbass argument over who would win-" you explained. Stu raised an eyebrow, "Very romantic-". Randy pushed his way through, he gripped his fake pitchfork in anger.

"It's fine. He's just being an ass" you practically yelled against the crowd. Randy plopped down on the couch, "He's always an ass.". You nodded, you leaned over and fixed the collar on his blue plaid shirt.

"You look very handsome." You tried to calm him down. His blue eyes looked up at you, "Thanks.. you look very hot.". You grinned, you fiddled with your red and green sweater. It was originally Dewey's, you asked to have it and he didn't mind. You spent all day toughing up the edges. Your brown hat sat on your head perfectly. You sat on the arm of the couch, Randy snaked his arm around your hips.

"Why do we come to his parties?" You asked observing everyone dancing and drinking.

"Cause you're friends with Tatum and Syd, and I have no friends-" he answered bluntly. You elbowed his shoulder, "You have friends-". He raised his eyebrows and leaned in close to you.

"Yes, the voices in my head" his eyes were wide. You rolled your eyes and smiled, "you got me..". He grinned and gave you a quick peck.

"I'm getting a beer, you gonna sit here or join me?" You got off the arm of the couch. You turned towards him holding out your hand. He took it, "Fine.". You attempted to pull him up before he pulled you back down. You landed on his lap with his arm wrapping around you.

"I guess Jason wins" he smirked kissing you. You leaned into his kiss, "Sure, just like how you're so dominant in bed-" you teased. You got up turning towards his shocked face.

"That was a low blow." He said pointing his finger at you. You rolled your eyes, grabbing his potato sack of a mask from his overall pocket. You pulled it over his face only showing his left eye.

"Come on, Jason." You grabbed his hand once more leading him to the kitchen. He followed right behind you, "That was still a low blow-".

"Oh, please! You tell Stu all the time about how you rail me" you exaggerated.

"Yeah well it's true." He whined.

"No, Randall. I rail you." You said looking into his one visible eye. You pushed past some partying teenagers. You leaned over the kitchen island grabbing some beers laid out.

"Now let's go shit talk while getting drunk-" you lead back to the living room. Randy happily followed you back to his original spot.

It's been about two hours, Randy was absolutely shit faced. His masked lay forgotten on the floor, he took a sloppy sip of his beer. You leaned against him looking at the remaining people. Randy leaned towards you his forehead resting against your temple.

"Alright, Jason Voorhees?" You asked glancing at him.

"mhm.." his arms wrapped around your waist.

"You sure? Do you need to go home?"

"No" he breathed. He paused for a second, the heat radiated off of him.

"Just drunk. Plus I have a clear shot of your boobs-" he laughed. You scoff pushing him back, "You pervert-".

"No! You're my girlfriend so" he dragged out his so before sipping his beer. You smiled taking the bottle from him. You placed it on the coffee table next to all the other bottles.

"You know the next party is your turn to be a sober driver-" you reminded. He nodded, "Aye-Aye, Captain.". He chugged down the rest of his beer, you looked down at your half full bottle. It was your second one, you sighed leaning into Randy.

Tatum and Stu appeared around the corner laughing. Stu noticed you two and stopped, "I'm kicking everyone out. You two can stay! Imma go have sex!" He smiled walking around announcing people have to leave.

Randy grinned and leaned close to your face, "Bottoms up!". You chuckled before chugging down the rest of your beer. Randy smiled pulling you into his lap. His hands lazily held your hips, "Mm, would you be against sex right now?". You raised an eyebrow, Randy was obviously hard underneath you, you never noticed due to his baggy overalls. The denim of his bulge pushed against your shorts.

"Randy, can't you be patient?" You whispered. Your fingers slid down the side of his face. He gently bucked his hips up, you closed your eyes trying to contain yourself.

"Please?..." His bottom lip pushed out. You leaned down gently biting his bottom lip. You pulled back snagging the lip a bit. His eyes widened at you, his hand got Shakey. You smirked leaning in to kiss him again, "Remember the rules?". He nodded and continued kissing you, his hands digging into your hips.

"Repeat them to me-" you backed up far enough to stop kissing him. He whined, "I know them-".

"Repeat them-" your voice went stern. He took a breath, "Ask permission to come. Ask to touch you.". You smirked, "Good boy .". His lips parted, "But now we're gonna have to add some." You grinned. His brows knitted together, "huh?".

"We're at a party with some.. stragglers." You whispered glancing into the dining room. Some of Stu's buddies were still talking to him. You kinda felt bad for Tatum, she crossed her arms waiting for him to finish. You turned back to Randy, "You know how I tell you it's okay to moan?".

He nodded, "Today you can't. Can't let em hear us. Got that?" You whispered. He pouted, "okay.".

"If anyone comes over here. Pretend you're asleep." You added. He nodded, you leaned into him kissing him once more. He groaned sinking his hands down to your ass. You dug your hips down into his bulge well moving his hands back to your hips. He let out a sigh feeling some form of friction.

"All this for me... Such a good boy" you whispered to him. He nodded frantically, you dragged your hips up and down his erection. He bit his lip holding in his whines, "Want more." He whispered. You smirked, "I need full sentences.".

"I.. want more.. I want you on my cock.." he breathed out. You slowly unclasped his overalls, you lifted your hips causing him to let out a whine. You shot a look at him causing him to silence. You peeked over to see Stus friends gone, you hoped Stu and Tatum were upstairs now.

You sat up on your knees dragging his overalls down past his hips. You laughed softly at his Riddle Batman boxers. You placed your hips down onto his boxers. He closed his eyes tilting his head back. His Adams apple moved up and down.

"Tease-" he grumbled. You grabbed his jaw squishing his cheeks a bit.

"Excuse me?" You lifted your hips up again. He let out a soft huff, "Please fuck me.". You grinned, "much better.". You took his throbbing dick out of his boxers. The pre-come dripped out costing the tip.

"Such a pretty boy..." You cooed. He let out a quiet moan in response. You unbuttoned your shorts quickly getting up to take them off, you took your underwear off as well. You shoved them beside his thigh close to the cushion so they couldn't be seen. You straddle his hips gripping his shaft. You dragged his tip through your folds.

Randy groaned tilting his head back down. You quickly covered his mouth, "They can hear us-". Randy didn't seem to believe you but nodded. You slowly sunk down onto him, you uncovered his mouth. His lips fell open letting out a string of moans. You glared down at him, you grabbed your underwear shoving it in his mouth.

You smirked, "Now that's a pretty sight.". You continued to move your hips in small circles. Your breathing became rough as you tried not to moan. Randy's nails dug into your hips urging for you to keep going. You started raising your hips and falling back down. His eyes rolled into the back of head, you grinned and continued.

His hand tugged on your sweater as you rode him. You glanced down at him with a smile, "Wanna touch me?". He nodded, "Good boy." You lead his hand inside your sweater. He cupped your breast with his right hand, the other was still holding your hip. You reached around your back unclasping your bra with some miracle. The garment loosened in your sweater allowing Randy to move it aside and grasp onto your chest. His thumb rubbed against your perky nipple in circles.

"Mm, that's it... Next time you run your mouth to Stu. Tell him the truth, alright? That you're my little sex toy-" you exhaled sharply. Randy nodded, sweat built up on his forehead. He groaned against the cloth and bucked his hips upward repeatedly.

"Fuck!" Moans spilled out of your mouth. You bit your lip not being able to hold back.

"God, Randy!" You clenched around him. You heard a door slam causing you to pull the throw blanket over you and Randy. You laid down against his chest and pulled your underwear out of his mouth. You felt a warm ooze enter your core, you groaned softly causing Randy to smirk.

"See they're asleep!" Tatum whined. Stu crept down the stairs seeing you two on the couch.

"I swear I heard something-" he mumbled.

Tag list -@hurlonsororitygirls @sanzumylovee @katie-tibo @horneybeach1 @ithinkitszeph

[the-most-humble-blog]

Cancel Culture Starter Pack: How to Get Outraged Online

Welcome to the Art of Outrage

Congratulations! You’ve decided to become a fully-fledged member of the Cancel Culture Club—where moral high ground meets internet fury, and everyone’s an expert on everyone else’s mistakes. Cancel culture isn’t about fixing systemic issues or fostering productive dialogue. No, no. It’s about quick outrage, performative hashtags, and demanding accountability from people you didn’t even follow until yesterday.

In this satirical starter pack, we’ll walk you through the steps to master the fine art of canceling someone online. Warning: Side effects may include echo chambers, bad faith arguments, and the sudden realization that maybe, just maybe, you’re part of the problem.

1. Choose Your Target Carefully (Or Don’t)

The first rule of cancel culture? You need someone to cancel. But who should it be? Here’s a handy guide:

Option 1: A celebrity who said something problematic 10 years ago. (Because clearly, no one grows or evolves.)

Option 2: A random TikTok user who got too popular for their own good.

Option 3: Literally anyone who disagrees with you on the internet.

Pro Tip:

The less context you have about the situation, the better! Outrage thrives on partial screenshots and out-of-context quotes.

2. Gather Your Receipts

You’ll need “receipts” (a.k.a. evidence) to fuel your takedown. These can include:

Old Tweets: The more embarrassing, the better. Bonus points if they’re from an account that’s been inactive for years.

Video Clips: Preferably ones edited down to 5 seconds to remove any nuance.

Hearsay: If someone says they did it, that’s basically proof, right?

Warning:

Fact-checking ruins the fun. Stick to emotional reactions over logical conclusions.

3. Post Your Hot Take ASAP

Speed is key in cancel culture. The faster you join the pile-on, the more engagement you’ll get. Craft a tweet or Tumblr post that’s equal parts outrage and self-righteousness. Examples:

“This is disgusting. How did we let this person have a platform?”

“I’m sick of people excusing this behavior. Cancel them immediately!”

Pro Tip:

End your post with “Do better.” It’s the cancel culture equivalent of dropping the mic.

4. Rally the Mob

No cancel campaign is complete without a crowd. Encourage others to share your outrage. Use phrases like:

“Let’s make sure they never work again!”

“We need to hold them accountable!”

Pro Tip:

Create a hashtag for the cause, like #Cancel[InsertName]. Even if it doesn’t trend, it makes your outrage feel official.

5. Demand an Apology (And Then Reject It Anyway)

When the target inevitably apologizes, it’s your time to shine. Here’s how to respond:

“This apology isn’t sincere enough.”

“Why didn’t they apologize sooner?”

“This isn’t an apology; it’s damage control!”

The Goal:

No matter how heartfelt the apology, never let them off the hook. Remember: forgiveness is for the weak.

6. Expand the Fallout

Don’t stop at canceling the individual—drag their family, friends, and coworkers into the mess.

Did their cousin like a questionable post? Call them out.

Does their employer still work with them? Boycott the company.

Pro Tip:

The wider the net, the more chaos you create. And chaos equals engagement.

7. Move On to the Next Scandal

Once the outrage dies down, it’s time to pack up your pitchfork and move on. After all, there’s always someone else to cancel. Don’t forget to leave a vague post like:

“Glad we held them accountable. Who’s next?”

The Dark Side of Cancel Culture

Now that you’ve mastered the basics, let’s get real for a moment. Cancel culture often misses the mark. Instead of fostering accountability and growth, it creates fear and division. Here’s what you should consider:

Nuance Matters: Not every mistake is equal. We’ve lost the ability to differentiate between harmful behavior and simple human error.

Room for Growth: If we don’t allow people to learn and change, we’re setting an impossible standard for everyone.

Performative vs. Productive: Are you truly seeking change, or just chasing likes and retweets?

The Humble Alternative

Instead of canceling, consider calling in. What if, instead of public shaming, we approached people with empathy and the intent to educate? Sure, it’s not as flashy or fun, but it might actually make the world a better place.

Cancel culture is easy. Growth is hard. Choose wisely.

[vikwrites]

" DAEMONUIUM " - Tony Stark

Chapter Summary ➣ The Fall of Stark Castle. Pairing ➣ Fallen Prince!Tony Stark x Reader Word Count ➣ 611 words Chapter Warnings ➣ Medieval! AU, Slow Burn, Violence, Major Character Death. Author's Notes ➣ An idea by @welldonekhushi, a bit different to what I usually write, next chapter will hopefully provide more context. Thank you to my lovely beta reader @nicoline1998enilocin <3

Prologue - Overture

The rope felt rough against the Prince’s neck.

Tapestries of silk, once proudly displaying the kingdom’s colours and emblems, have been shredded from their rods, some burnt into meagre piles of ash; the rest torn by the passage of time and faded by the harsh sun. 

The throne, once a shining beacon in the grand hall, now stands in solitude. Its layers of gold leaf have been stripped away, revealing the cold iron underneath. The brilliant gemstones that adorned its surface have been pillaged and looted, leaving only empty settings behind. The rows of stained glass windows, each depicting a moment of the kingdom's triumphs, are now shattered, their intricate designs marred into shards. 

The peasants stormed the palace. They came in hordes of near thousands, pitchforks and flames in hand. The grand doors splintered under their force, crashing open to reveal the opulent corridors within. The echoes of their cries reverberated off the stone walls as they surged forward, a seething mass of defiance against the monarchy. The nobles, once standing proud and untouchable, now cowered in their gilded chambers, the unfortunate ones having been slaughtered in cold blood.

The same could not be said for the Prince. For he ran, like a swift wind through every nook and cranny of the castle — up twisting stairwells, down spiralling towers — the peasant’s voices like cries of the damned — the walls quaking with emancipated rage, like the first leak in the wall of a dam, forewarning that nothing could hold for long. His patterned robe dragged upon the floor, stained red with blue blood.

His legs could only carry him so far; he found himself perched at the edge of the turret, overlooking the dark horizon and the sheer drop into the ocean below, the waves crashing against the splintered rocks. He could hear the peasants’ voices as they approached, drawing closer by the second. It dawned on him that death was not a matter of when, but how.

“ There he is, ”  — fear became a tangible, living force, creeping over his figure like some ravenous beast, holding him in a standstill — “ Seize him! ” 

The Prince was bound; not by silver shackles or golden chains, but by simple rope. He was marched like cattle out of the palace gates, being put on as a barbaric display of irreverence; a sovereign turned laughing stock in the span of a night. The peasants scrambled like rats, just for the chance to witness the spectacle. 

Amidst the crackling of bonfires and the scorching heat. His body trembled with cold, but his mind burned with anger — with memories of the firelight still drifting like phantoms in his brain. 

Tears fall from the Prince’s eyes. They meander down his cheeks. 

That fateful second before the floorboards dropped, the Prince pondered if he had anything left to save in death.  He stands in solitude on the gallows. While the Cardinal recited blessings in Latin, the words in the people’s mouths were nothing but curses, laced with vitriol and the name of the Devil, lashing out like a bitten and cornered dog, condemning him to the deepest rings of Hell.

The creak of the floorboards, the roar of the crowd — these were among the last things he would hear before he died. His eyes did not bear remorse; instead, they held shame, to be stripped from the high chambers of the castle and reduced to the same fate as a lowly outlaw. 

What he’d give to be a young prince again, adorned with jewels and veneration — now he’s traded in his necklace for a noose — 

The Prince took his last few straggling breaths, and the floor gave way beneath him.

⎊ back to masterlist

[melodymunson]

Rockstar Eddie Munson x fem reader head canons (feat Steve Harrington)

Adult content ahead. Only 18+ no minors

(This is my first time posting a fic for the Stranger Things fandom on tumblr. Reblogs and feedback/comments are much appreciated.)

ao3 link for the fic

Corroded Coffin had fans everywhere and people who knew and loved heavy metal became lifelong fans.

Eddie loved to crowd surf, stage dive at any show, and even get into the pit. He was well known by concert promoters and club owners/staff alike.

The first time you saw Eddie play live he connected with you instantly and when it came time to meet the fans he made sure to ask you backstage. Out of all the groupies or fans he could've chosen he picked you.

When Corroded Coffin was the headliner he would put 110% into his performances and you would be sure to take pictures of him and CC because they were the best live band you had ever seen.

Once you got on Eddie's tour bus with your VIP all-access pass he played some unwritten songs and covers for you.

You of course bought all of the band's merch and loved all their designs.

Your job for the band was to help run the soundchecks and sell the band's merch and of course, get big tips from some of the fans.

You loved Eddie for so many reasons and him being a rockstar was just a small part of it. When he was onstage you loved to see his energy as a frontman and lead guitarist.

Most tour dinners were nothing special mainly fast food or easy and fast microwaveable food from the local grocery stores. Sometimes though Eddie took you out to dinner and it was romantic.

Eventually, you and Eddie decided to get matching tattoos of a coffin and his band's logo on your right shoulders.

Neither of you were heavy drinkers but wouldn't turn down free drinks and shots. Eddie's favorite drinks were whiskey and vodka but he loved the occasional beer.

Corroded Coffin toured with some amazing bands including Autopsy, Carnivore, WASP, and Napalm Death.

When you were watching shows with him he would either crowd surf or get into the pit. On occasion, he would hold you during the slow rock ballads.

He may have had a bad boy image to the rest of the world but he was more than a rockstar to you and you understood him completely and he loved how down-to-earth you were.

What started as you being a groupie soon turned into a relationship. It was spontaneous and he was the best mix of gentleman and rockstar.

When guys would look at you he was very protective and made sure to leave his mark and let them know you were his girl only. He would mark you up with hickeys or kiss you and hold you close to him.

You got an "I'm with the band the rules don't apply to me" shirt you would wear to some of the band's shows. He of course got an "I'm in the band the rules don't apply to me shirt" he often wore during some of his shows.

Most of your wardrobe consisted of black clothes and ripped jeans, Corroded Coffin shirts, metal tee shirts, and low-cut tops and fishnets along with platform boots. Spiked jewelry, chokers especially, and spiked bras are also a turn-on for him. Eddie would especially love it when you wore all black and when you chose to pair fishnets, a corset, a leather jacket, and heels together- he almost couldn't resist the urge to rip your clothes off.

He usually pairs a Hellfire Club shirt with cutoff and ripped denim jeans together as well as a denim jacket and Converse chucks or Vans tennis shoes but he always looks good.

He wasn't too much into cover songs but on occasion, the band would be known to cover Metallica and Black Sabbath.

For their headline Halloween hometown show you cosplayed Elvira and he loved it. Eddie went as the devil complete with mask, pitchfork, and cloak.

Neither of you have a particular preference for the type of fan/groupie to hook up with but most of the fans wore dark lipstick and were goth/alternative with low-cut black clothes. He was a sucker for women with pretty eyes though.

So many women threw themselves at both of you and took their tops off at his shows but this was just the normal every-night rockstar occurrence. Bras and underwear thrown at him on the stage happened at every show.

Sex on the tour bus was wild. Whether it be with just Eddie, other girls, men, or couples, you still had a wild and crazy time.

One of your favorite partners was Steve. Even though he was a jock he loved going to Eddies shows and supporting him and he loved to see you. After a few drinks and a joint or two, you and Steddie were fucking in the back of the bus in every position.

All the times you fucked other people together were one-night stands. The important thing was that Eddie was yours and all the sex you had with other people was protected.

He got off on seeing you go down on another woman and please her. For his birthday you let him watch and film you fucking 3 other women. He loved it and came so hard just by jacking off to it.

Being with Eddie and other women on the bus you would either fuck on the couches or in the back room and you could pretty much get them to do whatever you wanted. Being with a rockstar came with its privileges after all.

Sometimes you would just have groupies on the tour bus to suck Eddie off and film them as they did so. They were always willing and eager to please and the whole time Eddie would look right into the camera and smile.

Leather, whips, and bondage were some of Eddie's favorite things as well as pegging and you were willing to oblige and sometimes you were even his dominatrix.

Some of the concerts you attended as VIP because of his rockstar status were Ozzy, Judas Priest, Metallica, ACDC, and Joan Jett & The Blackhearts.

In the recording studio, it was quite the experience especially when he laid down the vocals. He even had you do guest vocals on the album by recording your moans as he fingered and fucked you.

Most of the time you get a chill and relaxed day off just to go do something fun like paintball, play some Dungeons & dragons, go hiking in abandoned places, go to the roller skating rink or the arcade.

Most days after the shows he takes you to the local bar or strip club/burlesque club and tip the dancers very well, have a few drinks, and bring a girl or two back to the bus.

Dustin and the rest of his gang including Will and Eleven go to the local shows and ones that are all ages of course to see Corroded Coffin and Eddie even gives them a special shoutout and side stage access/VIP treatment.

For a while, he had been thinking about getting another guitarist and he decided to hire you. The gift that he presented when you were going to get asked to be in his band was a Fender electric guitar that was purple. He had been teaching you for a while and giving you lessons and would teach you more.

What you saw as most fitting for his next birthday would be a new electric guitar and you got one for him custom-made with his initials and it was blue. He of course loved it and told you it was the best present anyone had ever gotten him.

For his first big band photoshoot, he made sure you went with him and he posed with you scantily clad but very tasteful. You both had your guitars and posed together.

Once Corroded Coffin had made it big you and Eddie got a place of your own. For so long he wanted to be able to move out of the trailer park so he did and you got a nice place that was decorated with so many rock n roll posters, a King sized bed, silk and satin sheets, and curtains/drapery, a music room, a sex room, and even a small custom recording studio.

The new place was missing something and you decided you wanted to get a pet to adopt so you sat Eddie down and talked it over and it wasn't difficult to convince him to get one. Later that week you went to a cat and dog rescue shelter and found the cutest cat that was a tabby.

When you were on tour either Steve and Robin or Dustin would take care of the cat and you and Eddie made sure to bring home lots of toys when you got back.

Once Eddie's band got their big break and finally played a bigger venue and as headliner, he decided to propose to you onstage.

After being newly engaged to Eddie he had a chance to be in a music documentary and brought you along with him for being his biggest muse.

Being with Eddie and in a touring band was what was the best thing for you now and whatever came next you would be ready for it.

tagging @corneliuswatkins @keeryatmosphere @chrrymunson @xxhellfirebunnyxx @bimbobaggins69 @reidsbtch @babygorewhore @inourtownofhawkins @lokis-army-77 @imyourdaninow @ali-r3n @harringtonfan4 @koskeepsake @munson-mjstan @bunnsandroses @take-everything-you-can @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @steveslittlesunflower @emsgoodthinkin @jadeylovesmarvelxo @lofaewrites @zestychili @s6raphic @probablyin-bed @corrodedcorpses @dollalicia @hopsgirl

lemme know if you want to be added/removed

[nihildenial]

Tender is the Bite by nihil-denial (wc: 2,418)

Rated: M, nudity, blood drinking, violence and implied su!c!dality for a few sentences

Pairings: F/M, Dracopia x F!Reader

Tags: FIRST POV, 1600s, Witch Trials, Angst with Happy Ending, Ghouls are Wisps like in Scottish Folklore, Protective Dracopia

Summary: You lead a quiet life of gardening and lavender selling in early 1600s Salem, Massachusetts. The men of the town have other ideas for you.

“Tell me, village whore, how you’ve used these herbs to bewitch our children?”

There’s an angry crowd of my neighbors, townspeople, people who I thought liked me-- standing on my front porch with pitchforks, flames, and crucifixes. They point them at me as if I’m some wild animal from the forests around our town.

“They are herbs grown in the soil of my lawn! There is no magic or bewitchery in a plant ,” I affirm. I stare down the corrupt governor and let them take in my apron and petticoats smeared with dirt and grass from toiling in the garden. The only magic present here is how I didn’t grab my father’s musket when I heard them approaching.

“Then how come our children have been lured towards your house’s pathway and returned dizzy and smelling of grass? You are in league with the Devil’s assistants, the vampyres!” Rachael accuses, holding her toddler on her hip.

The vampire thing was complete horseshit. I shrug, “There is no such thing as a vampire. Besides, they are children. They are curious about the nature around their homes. Are they not allowed to explore?”

This only seems to incite the governor and then the crowd. “They are acting out; saying wild things about shadowy figures running faster than is possible, eating candies that are not made here, and complaining of how the woods around your house make strange noises at night.”

I wipe my hand on my apron, noticing how some of them shift their pitchforks into a ready stance. “There are wild animals. If the children wander up my pathway, then I give them treats from my journeys to other towns when I trade lavender seedlings. I even have some here.” I pull out one of the sweet taffy candies I bought last time I was in Boston. “My lavender is milled into powder, then added to taffy for flavoring.”

A child held back by their parents lights up at the mention of the treat.

“That is the devil!” Governor McCoy shouts, pointing a finger at it. “You have used this to hypnotize them into helping you with your rituals.”

“I wasn’t aware that stretching in my garden was considered a ritual. Maybe the men that watch a lone woman from the hidden perches of a tree are at fault for masturbating to me when I am dressed properly.”

McCoy’s face is purple with anger as I seem nonchalant in the face of his accusations. I have done nothing wrong. “We are simply seeing you sin, which makes them sin! Since that is not enough for you, you then involve our children!”

“You have totally warped my sensibilities around the womanly figure, and have made the devil tempt me into cheating on my wife!” Able Smith shouts. His thin, frail wife beside him glares at me in jealousy.

That would explain why Franny Doone came asking for herbs that would terminate an unwanted pregnancy. I can’t help but notice that she’s not present.

Still, not my problem. “I have done nothing wrong. If you have true accusations, I need to see some semblance of a warrant from a judge.”

Governor McCoy waves a hand and his deputy hands over a long paper. “I think this is correct,” He says smugly.

I take the parchment and read Judge Mather’s decree for my arrest and subsequent confinement in Boston’s gaol for a trial. A trial that I knew would not end well. I stare at the cross inked next to the Judge’s signature at the bottom.

“Allow me to pack my things and I will willingly surrender,” I say as genuinely as I could. I knew this was the end for me, even though both God and I know I have done nothing wrong. If I could go to my closet, I could grab the musket and end things before McCoy could ever get his slimy hands on me. They stripped those accused of witchcraft and gave them barely any clothing, allowing men to have their way with the accused ‘temptress’ before trial.

He grabs me by the bicep. “No. There’s no telling what devilish shrines or herbs you have in there. You will be taken to Boston now.”

I try to fight his grasp but other men grab hold of me. The musket is loaded. It would be a quick death compared to this.

“Let me go in peace! I will not run!” I shout.

Able’s forearm slides around and under my chin, placing me in a stranglehold. I can smell the whiskey on his breath and feel his erection pressing into the back of my petticoats. This is what he and McCoy wanted all along. All of these charges are false and they wrongfully convinced Judge Mathers of it.

Still I fought. I would not die without hurting one of them.

Able pulled me down the stone stairs of my cottage. I lost my footing in the blur of my petticoats and his hold. I hit the ground hard with him still grasping at me. His hands mistakenly (or not) pull at my chemise and expose my breasts.

A wave of horrified noises fill the air. Torches are held higher in the night air.

I hurry to escape and cover myself but Able is pulling me by the ankles down the gravel path along with the enraged crowd. I dig my fingers in the stones, though it does nothing but leave dirty tracks and cut my hands and body.

Maybe an insect will rise from their ground burrows and attack me, ending me sooner than these men will have me contained. Kicking Able only brings more hands to lift me.

I am dragged halfway to our small town of Salem when the shadows begin to spook the mob. First, the children cry of men watching us from the trees. Then, the wives and women shrilly say that I am summoning the Devil and his Vampires to make them retreat.

Governor McCoy keeps the mob moving towards Salem, where a wagon is waiting to drag me to Boston. “Pay them no mind, for the Lord is watching us fufill his teachings. We will be protected!”

A black bird suddenly swoops from the canopy of trees, a mighty caw startling everyone. It circles and swoops again. It steals McCoy’s moleskin hat and flies to a high perch out of sight.

“You blasted bird! Stop casting spells!” He cries to me.

I shoot him a bewildered look as I’m bodily carried by several men. “I am not casting anything! Your hat probably looks like its prey!”

Another black creature swoops down into the fold of townspeople. It’s a large, fuzzy bat with a short snout. It flaps its wings and catches several women’s pinned curls. The women are pulled out of the mob and thrown into the mud lining the pathway.

The Raven from before comes back and joins the bat in creating as much chaos as possible. The funny thing is, I actually do know the bird. It sits on my fence post and eats the blackberries from my garden. I leave it alone because those are my favorite and it always leaves a perfectly ripe bunch for me to have. I can tell it’s noon when it flys into the clearing of my garden.

Able and Denny drop me. I hit the ground hard . I scramble to my feet, throwing hair over my shoulder and pulling up my skirts to sprint back to my house.

“Stop her!!” McCoy yells as a second Raven joins the fray.

I run with all my might back up the path. The gravel is uneven and hurts my already bleeding feet. I’m nearly at the porch stairs when the bat flies ahead of me and hovers on the porch. It’s so sudden I freeze before it smacks into my face. In a blink, the creature is no longer a creature, but a thick man dressed in the finest black shawl. A thin, brown moustache lines his black-painted upper lip, which moves into a snarl and reveals sharp canines. His straight nose and mismatched green and white eyes are more handsome than any of the bachelors I’ve seen in Boston. He looks so exotic, with olive skin and decietfully strong arms.

I take a step back (unfortunately missing the porch edge) and begin to tumble down to the feet of Governor McCoy’s mob.

But I never hit the grass.

The Vampire quickly moved a hand around my neck and waist, pulling me into his embrace.

“Vampire! We knew you were in leagues with the Devil!” Able shouts. Fear and anger war on his square face.

I go stiff in the crytpid’s arms. What turn has my fate taken? He smells of sweat and the herbs from my garden. He smells like my home.

“You shall not have her for your sick pleasures. I am the Vampire, Copia, and you will understand that I am not to be trod upon,” The vampire declares. He does not shout, but his voice carries as if he has.

“We are putting her on trial for being in leagues with you! All this does is prove that!” Able argues.

“You are wrong. I have never sworn allegiance with her, and my Ghouls have heard you planning this on false accusations and lustful fantasies.”

At the mention, the shadowy creatures emerge from the trees. They take different sized blobs and surround the mob. All of the torches but McCoy extinguishes with a sudden gust of wind.

“She is now mine, meaning all that was hers now falls under my Dominion. You will leave these woods unless you want to feel my wrath.” Copia snarls.

His gloved hand is still grasping me. His thumb rubs calming circles into the nape of my neck. “I will save you,” He says quietly.

“Why?” I mumble in fear. “What better fate is this?"

“They want to do horrible things to you. You would never make it to Boston; doomed to be shoved into a shallow grave, defiled and broken. I can give you a kingdom of loyal creatures that lives in harmony with nature. You can keep your cottage, your garden, your barn cats. I will save you.”

The mob is busy trying to cower from the Ghoulish shadows.

I could trust his word and die in the village or trust his word about himself and face an unknown fate.

“Save me,” I whisper. “God has abandoned me anyway.”

Copia commands the mob’s attention with a snap of his fingers. “None of you shall ever enter the woods of Salem or this clearing ever again, or my Ghouls will feast on your blood! Be gone! ”

“We will have justice! The Devil has no domain in the Lord’s forest!” McCoy yelps. He tries to rush the porch.

Copia swings me out until I’m dipped towards the ground and buries his head in the exposed skin of his collarbone. “I’m sorry to be so rough,” He whispers against my neck before sharp teeth bite into my veins.

All of the adrenaline flows through my mind as he drinks from me. I go limp in his arms yet his grip doesn’t hold me any harsher. Arousal and fear and relief fill me. I’ve never had a man so intimately entwined with me. His slight erection doesn’t make me want to gag.

Copia rips himself away, my blood dripping down his chin. I can hear the gasps and scramble of the townspeople to leave. Once the gravel no longer screeches in the clearing of my house, Copia leans back down to my neck.

He takes one last taste before his hot tongue is sliding over the holes he created. The pain disappears into a warm ache. His arms help me to stand up.

I pant into his chest. “You--"

“That is not usually how I like to bite. I apologize for the pain, but it was critical.”

I can feel the vibration of his voice through the bloody velvet of his bat-wing shawl. “It…It, um, felt good after a bit.” I confess. Lust is no longer a worry of mine. God has no domain here.

His hand on my lower back creeps up my spine. “I am not here to have you as some devilish sex slave. You are free to live here with no strings attached. I simply could not stand to have you face such a horrible fate by their hands.”

He lets me go. I take a cautious step back just to gaze upon him. “You chanced all that to simply save me from those men?”

“These are my woods. You are a steward of the Earth and my Ghouls live in harmony with you. Swiss, one of the Ravens, is very fond of your blackberries. Cumulus, my Owl, eats the worms you till up when you weed the crops.”

At the mention, two of the eight shadows transform into the birds he said. They settle on the railing of my porch.

“All we ask is you continue your passion for the Earth,” Copia reaches out an arm and the Raven hops upon his forearm happily.

“Will I never see you? I am to continue a lonely life of gardening?” Sure, it was nice to think that I would keep my life, but I do have some dreams of finding companionship.

He presses his black-painted lip and lower lip together. “No, I will come as many times as you wish. All you have to do is call for me.”

I no longer feel scared. It feels as if he’s always stood on my porch. I can picture his shiny boots next to my slippers.

“What if I don’t want you to leave now?” I ask timidly. I am falling into lust the longer we stand here. His very presence calls me. “I was going to make dinner just before the mob arrived. Do vampires even eat normal food?”

He smiles brightly, his fangs poking out almost cutely. “Yes. I am very fond of meat.”

“It’s a good thing I have a fresh hare. Will you join for supper, my handsome savior? Please allow me to show my gratitude.”

Copia’s eyes flicker down to the small trickle of blood that has escaped into the exposed neckline of my shirt. Able ripped the fabric so badly that my breasts are almost fully out.

“I’m starving,” He smirks.

We don’t even get to the door before his lips are meeting mine.

[rosanna-writer]

Karma Is My Boyfriend (3/6)

Summary: Elain Archeron saved countless lives by vanquishing Graysen Nolan, her literal demon of a fiancé. She's a hero, but it's just not fair that being a good witch destined to rid the world of evil has left her tragically, painfully single. Enter Lucien Vanserra, the best cupid in the business, who's been sent by the universe to balance the karmic scales and find Elain the perfect new partner…

Another update for @elucienweekofficial!!!

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

The third chapter can be found Here on AO3 or under the cut.

Archeron family dinners were a chaotic affair. That night, Nesta was using her telekinesis to move Rhys's wineglass another half-inch to the left every time he stopped paying attention, and Cassian was tossing grapes in the air to see if he could catch them with his mouth before Feyre turned them to mist. And when they weren't terrorizing their siblings-in-law, both married couples were holding hands under the table and making eyes at each other over their plates.

Elain loved them all—as individuals. But she hated feeling like a fifth wheel in her own home.

And she had to admit, it was better with Lucien there. Partially just because it was a relief that for once, she wasn't the only one with table manners. But also, because things felt…balanced with him there. Like he'd filled in a spot that none of them knew was vacant.

Elain could almost fool herself into believing that Lucien was a permanent addition to the household. But when the plates were cleared and Lucien stood to go, the illusion was broken, and she felt a strange sense of disappointment.

He held out a hand for her and said, "I have something to show you."

"Now?" Elain said.

"No time like the present. And I think unclogging that block is going to be quite the undertaking."

Elain wondered if he was really so eager to be rid of her that quickly. Perhaps as a cupid, he really did think of her as nothing more than a particularly nasty drain in need of a good plunging.

She took his hand and tried not to look hurt.

There was a flash of red light, and they found themselves in a crowded basement at a Halloween party. As Elain blinked and took in their new surroundings, a girl in cat ears walked straight through her and Lucien. And there was a strange, dreamy haze over everything.

They were watching a memory.

A version of herself from the past came down the stairs, wearing a headband with a halo on a spring and a pair of cheap plastic wings. She'd scrounged up the costume at the last minute, less worried about how she looked and just wanting one night of non-magical, normal fun.

As she made her way to one of the coolers full of drinks, one of the wings knocked into someone. "Sorry!" Elain said in the memory, turning to see who she'd bumped into.

It was the man she'd been hearing about all night. He wore a headband of his own, one with bright red horns, and carried a cartoonish pitchfork—no wonder Elain had been getting such strange looks when mentioned that she'd come here alone. Everyone had assumed they'd planned a couple's costume.

Graysen Nolan was even more handsome than she remembered.

Elain found herself clutching Lucien's hand as she watched herself flirt her way through her first interaction with her future ex-fiancé.

Their costumes, his cheesy line about whether or not it hurt when she fell from heaven—all of it was so much more painful in hindsight. She'd been so stupid and naive, starting with this very first night when she went home with him.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and her grip on Lucien's hand became painfully tight. "Why did you show me this?" she said, and the memory around them paused.

"You loved him, didn't you?" Lucien said gently.

"He was just another demon." One in a very long line of them—Elain had vanquished more than she could count.

"In the end, yes. But I brought you to this moment because none of that had happened yet. I won't deny that Graysen ruined it all later. But beginnings—when there's nothing but a spark and infinite possibilities—those are pure. You're blocked because you stopped believing in that."

Elain wiped at her eyes with the hand that wasn't entwined with Lucien's. "It was doomed from the start."

As a seer, she knew all about fate and inevitable sad endings. Her gift was meant to help her find innocents in need of protection—she never had visions of her own life. But still, a part of her thought that with all that experience, she should have predicted where things would end with Graysen anyway.

Lucien wasn't looking at her like she'd been silly or naive, though. There was a deep well of understanding in his eyes as he said, "Perhaps. But if that's the case, it makes you even braver for trying."

Before Elain could even begin to figure out what to say to that, there was another flash of light. This time, they appeared in a rooftop garden. The place where Graysen had proposed.

And the place where Elain had killed him.

He'd gotten paranoid, in the end. Elain had known something was wrong when he tried to isolate her from her sisters—urging her to move out of the manor, complaining that they stifled her, refusing to even be around them. After they'd discovered he'd lied about no longer killing innocents, Nesta or Feyre would have gladly been the ones to land the killing blow, but it was too difficult for them to get close enough. It had to be Elain.

To make a potion strong enough to vanquish him, they'd needed to brew it together, imbuing it with their combined power. Elain had dipped a dagger in it, then packed the blade along with snacks for a picnic and told her fiancé she'd planned a surprise for their anniversary.

The memory played, and Elain watched herself kiss Graysen hello for the last time. Even though it had been a risk—he might have found the dagger—she hadn't pulled it on him right away. To the very end, she'd been stupid and sentimental, and they'd reminisced about their first meeting in the place they'd gotten engaged.

Graysen hadn't known it, but it had been her way of saying goodbye.

Lucien wrapped an arm around her shoulders as Elain watched the memory. She leaned into him, grateful for the support as they watched the version of her from the past pull out the dagger. Graysen hadn't tried to fight her off; instead, he'd tried pleading with her, promising he wouldn't hurt another innocent again if Elain just let him go. He'd even cried.

Just for a moment, she'd considered it. He'd smiled when he saw the hesitation in her eyes, and that was when Elain plunged the blade into his heart.

Without thinking, she turned her head, burying her face in Lucien's chest as Graysen began to scream. The memory stopped, but they stood there in silence for a long moment, and Lucien's thumbs rubbed soothing circles onto her upper arms.

Safe. Elain felt so safe with him. He rested his chin on the top of her head, and she let out an involuntary sigh. They might have been standing right in the middle of the worst memory of her life, but she'd want to stay there forever if it meant Lucien kept holding her.

"I know this one was painful to watch," he said eventually, "but I hope you can come away knowing how strong you are. You have every reason in the world to be afraid of finding love again, but I fully believe you can master that fear."

"Thank you," she said, voice tight.

There was another flash of light, and this time, a forest emerged around them. A gentle breeze was sending autumn leaves tumbling to the ground, and the air felt crisp as Elain breathed it in.

It was beautiful, but…completely unfamiliar. This memory wasn't hers.

Before Elain could ask where they were, she caught a glimpse of auburn hair gleaming in the sun. This was Lucien's memory, one old enough that there was no mechanical eye or scar on his face.

He looked contented enough, hiking a trail alone. And it seemed like he might have been the only person around for miles, but the sound of a dog barking shattered that illusion.

A woman Elain had never seen before came around a bend, her excited little dog wagging his tail and straining at his leash to get closer to Lucien. They stopped to talk. Lucien scratched the dog on his head, and somewhere in the middle of the conversation, the dog's happy bobbing and weaving between their legs resulted in the leash tangling together Lucien and the dog's owner.

They both nearly fell over, but at the last minute, Lucien grabbed her and pulled her flush against him. The woman giggled and blushed prettily.

"Her name was Jesminda," Lucien said quietly. Past tense.

He'd said that dating wasn't in the cards for him anymore. Perhaps it was rude to ask, but Elain supposed he'd shown her this for a reason. "What happened to her?"

"My stepfather was a demon, and she was one of the many innocents he killed before he was vanquished."

"I'm sorry." The words had never seemed so pathetically small, but there was nothing else she could think of to say.

"I became a cupid to honor her memory. After everything we shared, it seemed fitting to connect people with their true love so they could experience the same blessing that I did."

Elain turned to face him fully. By bringing her here, Lucien had bared a part of his soul to her. It was far more vulnerability than he needed to show in order to fix her block.

There was something more he was trying to tell her than just that she needed to believe in herself. "What makes you think you couldn't experience it again?" she said.

"It's exceedingly rare for lightning to strike the same place twice."

"But not impossible."

Lucien's smile didn't meet his eyes. "Not impossible. But close to it."

Elain couldn't help but wonder if she wasn't the only one whose past had left them blocked. But she wasn't a cupid whose expertise was matching people up with their happy endings.

Maybe…this had been Lucien's way of letting her down gently. If he wasn't ready to try again, she understood.

"Thank you for this," she said, taking another step away from him. "Really. It was all quite…illuminating. I think I might be closer to moving on."

"That's good to hear," he said, voice tight.

One last flash of light, and Elain was back at the Archeron manor, with Lucien nowhere to be found. She'd see him again—after all, she hadn't actually found true love yet—but with a pang, she realized she wished she could have bid him goodnight.

After everything she'd seen…Elain didn't want to be alone. The kitchen light was on, so she headed that way and found Cassian washing dishes. They did have a dishwasher, but it was out of commission. And since Cassian's job as a handyman repairing the manor was revealed to be a ruse that allowed him to keep an eye on his charges, nothing in the Archeron manor got fixed quickly anymore.

Ducking around one of his massive, feathery wings, Elain grabbed a clean towel and started drying plates. Might as well make herself useful.

"So what did you and Lucien fight about?" Cassian said, not even bothering with a greeting.

Elain nearly dropped the plate in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"You left to go unclog yourself or whatever and came back looking like you might cry."

"Nothing happened," she said quickly. Cassian just dropped the sponge, raised his brows, and waited. Elain sighed. "Nothing important happened."

"If it involves one of my charges, it's important."

Elain bit back another sigh—it wasn't fair of him to play the guardian angel card. She wouldn't be surprised if Nesta put him up to this. "Lucien's not a threat."

Cassian raised both hands in a conciliatory gesture, then went back to scrubbing a pan. "Good. Because if I need to give anyone the break-her-heart-and-I-break-your-face speech, I'd rather not find out last minute. And since you're dating again…"

He let the implication hang in the air. And despite herself, Elain's cheeks went pink. "It's too early for that."

"I'm just saying, since I'm banned from Adriata and all, I'll need extra advance notice with Tarquin."

Right. The wrecked building that he'd refused to share any further details about, no matter how many times she and Feyre asked about it. Elain found herself cracking a smile.

"You'll be the first to know. I promise."

"This is why you're my favorite charge. So much easier to keep track of than the other two," Cassian said, knocking a wing against her arm affectionately. Dropping his voice to a stage whisper he added, "Don't tell Feyre and Nesta I said that."

By the time the last of the dishes were dried and put away, Elain was feeling just a bit better. It helped that Cassian gave the best hugs of anyone she knew, wrapping her in both his massive arms and cocooning her with his wings, too. Once she was alone in her room, she sent a quick text message.

But somehow, once that was done, Elain was unable to shake the feeling that she'd just made a wrong choice.

[dr-futbol-blog]

Instinct, Pt. 9

Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon have joined everyone by Zaddik's fallen body, although we did not see them come in. Note that Sheppard is standing very close to McKay, apparently having placed himself between him and the villagers after making his way to him through the crowd, and we now find him looking down at McKay as he kneels on the ground. We saw McKay look up over his shoulder in the previous shot, and he must have been looking up at Sheppard even though we cannot be sure when they entered the scene. While McKay is on his knees, he keeps twisting himself back to be able to look back at Sheppard. And it seems as though they had been holding each other's gaze up until Callup walks toward him, at which point Sheppard casts his eyes down.

Callup: There's another one of those things out there. Look what it did to Zaddik!

Given Callup's age and the fact that Goran seemed to be protective of him like a son the other night, he may have been a friend of Zaddik's before the man went missing and was presumed dead. He certainly seems incensed enough here, seeing what has been done to him, to have some personal connection to Zaddik. Callup tells Sheppard to look at the man on the ground but that is precisely what Sheppard was not doing, looking instead at the ground, looking away from the scene. He did not need to see a reminder of exactly what could have and almost had happened to McKay when he had not been there to protect him, when he had been trusting that McKay would be able to handle the younger wraith suddenly turned monster on his own. Callup is incensed and clearly trying to rile up the crowd for some good old mob justice which is precisely what Sheppard is trying to avoid.

Callup: I say we go after it now! Sheppard: No one's going anywhere. We'll handle this! Stay calm. How is he?

Sheppard does not need loose guns (or pitchforks) running around the forest, and like he did back in the village, he seems discomfited by this display of a rowdy crowd, as is. He seems to understand how fast something like this can boil over and end up in indiscriminate violence, and he is just not willing to take that chance with McKay there. Sheppard steps even closer to McKay as he requests a sitrep from Beckett, glancing down at him as he does. He still seems to be avoiding looking at the broken body of the dying man. While likely he was telling Callup (and the rest of the villagers) to stay calm in particular, he actually looks at McKay as he says this. Stay calm, we will sort this out. We are in this together.

Now, it does not outwardly look like McKay is not calm because he may be starting to dissociate again, but that does not stop Sheppard from wanting to offer him some comfort, being that McKay is the one kneeling by the body, trying to help the old man pass away as comfortably as possible under the circumstances. McKay has been looking up at Sheppard, holding Sheppard's gaze, and it is interesting that as Sheppard shifts his gaze to look at Beckett to ask him a question, McKay follows his gaze. He turns back to look at the direction Sheppard was looking at and then, as Beckett approaches Sheppard, he follows him with his eyes. For what ever reason, he looks upset at Beckett walking up to Sheppard. Maybe he is upset at being left alone by the dying man since the feeling of abandonment seems to be McKay's main issue of late. He interprets Sheppard as rejecting him over and over again, and now even his best friend leaves him alone. But of course Beckett's intention was merely to get some privacy, to be able to fill Sheppard in without the whole crowd overhearing them.

Beckett: I've given him something for the pain, but his injuries are too severe. He's not going to make it. Goran: This can't be happening. It's not possible. Zaddik: I'm sorry. Don't blame Ellia. It was my idea.

Zaddik had been willing to give up his life for the wraith ever since taking her own as his own, and even dying he was trying to protect her. He cared about her more than he cared about his own life because she was what had given his life meaning. Giving up his life for her was easy, his only regret was that in dying he would be unable to continue keeping her safe. Even dying, he was trying to draw the ire of the villagers unto himself so that they might spare Ellia. She was the death of him but he hoped that she would be able to go on after he was gone.

And in all of this, he resembles Sheppard. Both Zaddik and Sheppard were willing to do anything to keep the person they loved safe and alive. We saw this when they first encountered each other, both using their own bodies to shield what was important to them. While Sheppard briefly looks at Beckett when he is talking to him, mostly he keeps looking at McKay. And we can tell this is the case as, just as soon as McKay stands up, Sheppard's gaze also trails up.

Zaddik: You have to understand that when I found her, I'd just lost my own wife and son to a fever. She was just lying there, helpless. knew what I had to do. As I told you, in the beginning she survived on food and water like any young girl. Then the hunger came. She took what she needed from me to survive until I perfected the serum.

Zaddik starts telling them the story of how he came to care for the wraith. He is imploring them to understand, and McKay looks at Sheppard as he says this, Sheppard again returning his gaze just as soon as McKay looks at him. They do not speak, at least not in words. The last words spoken between them in the episode were through the radio when McKay contacted him earlier, telling him "Not at the moment, no." The last word we hear McKay tell Sheppard is no, where the last thing we hear Sheppard tell McKay ("Get back there and sit tight") is for him to wait. But they exchange a lot of looks here.

As he lay dying, Zaddik fills them in on what he has been up to for the past ten years and how it is he came to look like he is a man over twice his natural age. As the wraith had reached adolescence and had begun to hunger, he could not stand watching someone he loved in pain and so he had allowed the wraith to feed on him. What is interesting here, with regards to Sheppard and McKay, is that we see Zaddik join Ellia in her bedroom with the intention of easing her pain. Zaddik lets Ellia feed on him while they are both kneeling by her bed. She ends up comforting him after she has done a terrible thing to ease her pain but from which she also seemed to get at least momentary pleasure.

As mentioned previously, somewhere between Duet (S02E04) and Condemned (S02E05) it seems like McKay had joined Sheppard in his room, ostensibly to talk. Sheppard had been seated on his bed, which we can tell by the fact that when ever we see him sitting on his bed when McKay is in his room after this, Sheppard seems to need to keep something between them, some physical object like a gold club or a magazine as a barrier, out of concern that there would be a repeat of what had happened then--as though he knows he would be unable to resist if McKay stepped into his personal space there again.

Zaddik tells Ellia, "It's all right, take what you need." A moment's pleasure that is meant to sustain her until he can find a permanent solution, to hold her over. Something had happened while Sheppard had been seated on his bed that left him trembling with want even during their next mission in the prison colony of Olesia, as he watched McKay lying down on the floor of the jumper fixing it. Sheppard looks on at the man tell his story with a mixture of revulsion and sympathy. Loathe as he is to admit it, a part of him can even understand his reasoning. There are few things that he would not do for McKay. But he is still not sure what to make of all of this.

Sheppard: She never fed on anyone after that? Zaddik: No.

Sheppard looks at Zaddik for a long time, not sure if he is telling the truth or not, not sure that he believes him. Sheppard is an expert liar and he knows lies that people tell themselves better than most. Zaddik is telling him what he wishes was true. And as a father, as someone that loves her, he is trying to protect her with his last breath. He knows that he is dying, he knows that he is as good as dead, so he is trying to make something good come out of this. What ever happens, at least they might think better of her if they never learn the truth.

But the fact that Sheppard even thinks to ask this question tells us that he still has his doubts about her. Zaddik had just told them that he let the girl feed on himself up until he had perfected the formula of the medicine that made it unnecessary for her to feed. If Sheppard took his word for it, the question would be unnecessary. He does not. And as McKay had shared Sheppard's doubts, even though they never even got to discuss the matter just between the two of them, McKay likewise seems disinclined to believe him, exchanging another glance with Sheppard. Sheppard returns McKay's look before he comes to a decision.

Sheppard: All right. Teyla? Ronon? You're with me. The rest of you stay here.

Now, again, Sheppard chooses Ronon and Teyla to come with him because they are the minimum, the skeleton crew he needs to go after a wraith. Ronon knows how to track one and Teyla can sense their presence. He needs someone to stay with the villagers and protect them in case she decides to come after them, needs someone to get this lot out of the forest. There is a clear reason as to why he does not want Beckett to come with on the hunt: as a doctor, he is an important asset that needs to be kept safe and who has so little field experience that he would be a liability, more in their way than of use. But Sheppard does not think the same of McKay.

He has trained McKay himself to be useful in the field. He has found McKay useful in the field ever since he had goddamn chosen him for his own team. Their first mission together out on the field was trying to capture a whole adult wraith to bring back with them to Atlantis, and he had insisted McKay join in on it. Thinking that McKay would not have any use on the hunt or that he would merely be in the way has nothing whatsoever to do with Sheppard's choice not to take him with here. It isn't even about keeping McKay safe because he is trying to trust McKay to be able to take care of himself, that is what he has been doing all throughout this episode, and as far as Sheppard understood it, Ellia had specifically spared McKay's life. He is trusting McKay to take care of these people, he is entrusting them to McKay, because he is making an effort to trust.

But that is not what McKay takes out of this. That is not how McKay interprets what happens here. To McKay, this is the fifth time in this episode that Sheppard makes it clear to him that he does not need him. He does not want him to tag along. That Sheppard is once more choosing his team and not including McKay in it. That he is being glossed over like Sheppard thought he sucked so much at softball as not to get chosen for his team for playing in the park with their friends. Having felt like an unwanted child, McKay's deepest injury is not being wanted and Sheppard unwittingly keeps re-enforcing these feelings by making it seem like McKay is not his choice for anything. Sheppard might have the best, most noble intentions but from McKay's point of view, what he does is hurtful and cruel.

However, it is familiar to McKay. it is something he is used to. It is even kind of comforting when people behave in the way he expects them to behave, to treat him like he feels he deserves to be treated. But to be treated like this by someone he loves, consistently, whose approval he most desires, it is hurtful. And what is more, if Sheppard had taken McKay with, a lot of the suffering he will go through in the near future could have been entirely avoided, as McKay could have stayed with Teyla allowing Ronon to go with him. But he does not, and McKay is left nursing his hurt. Where McKay has nothing more to say to Sheppard, Beckett has some words of advice:

Beckett: Colonel, the retrovirus is acting quickly. The human part of her is almost gone. Sheppard: You said she killed the other wraith and saved McKay's life? Beckett: Yes, but I'm not sure she knew what she was doing. She's operating on a purely animal level right now.

The curious thing is, we did not see Beckett tell Sheppard either of these things. It is possible there that is some funky editing in this scene, it is possible they cut away and information had been relayed that we did not get to witness. The sudden appearance of Sheppard and the others does suggest that something is missing here. Another possibility is that neither Beckett nor McKay said it out loud. When McKay was nearing ascension in Tao of Rodney (S03E14), he could hear people's thoughts to such an extent that he had to start actively blocking them out. At least partial telepathy seems to have been common among the unascended Ancients, much of their technology functioning with a mental component. For example, Sheppard uses a neutral interface to steer the jumper that does what ever he wants it to do. We have seen this unsettling ability to read each other's thoughts between Sheppard and McKay.

Now, Beckett holds the next most active ATA gene after Sheppard on the expedition, and when ever they need someone to use Ancient technology and Sheppard is not around, Beckett is the one they turn to. As far as we know, Sheppard and Beckett are the only ones with the authentic gene on Atlantis (perhaps along with Dr. Kusanagi) and, given their derivation from people inhabiting the British Isles, both of them may be descended from Moros. Because Sheppard comes from the upper classes, possibly from old money, where interbreeding inside a smaller pool of potential partners within the same social class is the norm, it seems to have allowed his lineage to retain a stronger version of the gene than Beckett, whose ancestors had likely married more freely.

The point is, it is entirely possible that they present some weak level of telepathy, especially between them (although Sheppard's ability to tell when people are lying may also indicate some latent ability to read people beyond just their physical tells), without ever even realizing it. Especially for Sheppard and Beckett this is natural, it is how they have always been. Sheppard is able to use his skills for sussing out people's motivations, to work people over and possibly even to have a sixth sense about where his enemies are located, whereas Beckett has used his skills to develop empathy for his patients, to easily discover what is ailing them. We do also observe a marked change in McKay following his gene therapy, as he suddenly seems to become more empathetic toward people, takes people around him into consideration much more than he did previously. And none of them may even realize that this is happening. It is never made explicit in the text. And yet all three of them seemed to be able to tell that Zaddik had been lying just then.

Teyla: Is there nothing you can do for her? Beckett: I might be able to reverse the effects, if you bring her back alive, but I doubt she'll cooperate. She's also stronger and faster than any wraith I've ever seen. Sheppard: Great!

McKay says nothing as they take off, but he is certainly having feelings about it, about being left behind. He looks deeply unhappy, his mouth a straight line as he tries not to let anyone see how much it hurts to be rejected by the man that he loves. While Sheppard's intention has been to work on trusting McKay, of showing him that he is able to trust him enough to let him do things on his own, not to have to keep him by his side at all times because knowing where McKay is and that he is alright is the only thing that can put his mind at ease. Sheppard knows that trust is an issue that he has to work on, and his choices in this episode have been due to his attempts at dealing with this.

But from McKay's point of view, Sheppard has been letting him know that he does not trust him. McKay thinks that Sheppard has been leaving him out of his team, of choosing Ronon and Teyla and not him, because he does not trust that McKay is able to take care of himself, that he can handle himself in a tight situation. McKay feels like Sheppard is doing this as a way of punishing him for what took place on the Ancient weapons platform, that it had been McKay jeopardizing Sheppard's life there that had made Sheppard not trust him anymore. And once more it is not talking this out using words that makes them both completely misinterpret each other.

We see McKay exchange a glance here with Beckett, just as he had with Sheppard earlier. This may also point to the two of them being able to communicate using a purely mental component. It is useful for certain kinds of communication but, perhaps because it is an ability deriving from the Ancients, it fails spectacularly when it comes to communicating feelings. Both Beckett and McKay have to stay behind to watch Zaddik die, and they get to listen in on his final words:

Goran: All this time, we thought you were dead! Zaddik: There was no other way. They never would have accepted us... and I couldn't abandon her. Goran: Why? Zaddik: She... needed me.

His father does not say the words out loud but you can read them on his face: I needed you. We see his face twist in pain as he looks away from his dying son, having to experience his death for a second time. The fact that in his mind he had already buried his son ten years ago does not seem to make the second time any easier.

They also underscore the allegory in the episode here. Society would not have accepted the two of them so they had to keep it a secret, they had to share their lives hidden from the rest of them. Zaddik had chosen her because she had needed him, because by dedicating his life to her he had felt necessary. Having lost his wife and son he had been adrift, and in her he had found meaning for his life. She had become the centre of his world, and because he had arranged his entire existence around her, it was easy to sacrifice his life to keep her safe. He had made a choice, and he continued to make the same choice until his dying day. This too was something that Sheppard would well understand.

Beckett: Colonel? This is Beckett. Sheppard: Go ahead. Beckett: Zaddik is dead. Sheppard: Understood.

Beckett gets in touch with Sheppard to inform them of Zaddik's passing, and we may note again that it is Beckett who does the contacting and not McKay. This is something that McKay could have called in with, only he didn't. It seemed like McKay might be incapable of saying anything at all right then, not trusting himself to speak when he was hurting as deeply as he was. Beckett was much more used to delivering news of this kind, besides. But note again that while Beckett is not addressing him with the full "Colonel Sheppard" here, he has abbreviated it to "Colonel" and not to "Sheppard," which Mckay did earlier. This further emphasizes the fact that McKay does not usually call him Colonel.

And as he did before, Sheppard responds to him with a simple "Go ahead," meaning go ahead, say what you had to say. I'm listening. With McKay, he had actually wanted to know what McKay had to tell him instead of just getting the sitrep, like he does now from Beckett. The fact that they do this for the second time in the episode just highlights the way in which Sheppard is different with McKay. Sheppard gives Beckett a simple "message received," but he does exchange a look with Teyla over this news. They had expected Zaddik to die, to be sure, but now she had crossed over from trying to injure someone to actually having killed. She was a killer. And they never discover just how much of a killer she was.

Dex: She knows we're here. She's watching us. Teyla: Ellia? We want to help you! Doctor Beckett can make you better, but you have to come with us! We will not hurt you!

What is important here, with regards to the following episode, is that Teyla seems to be able to sense her, to feel her out, even though she is changing into the iratus bug and is less wraith by the moment. There is a connection between the wraith and the iratus bugs, and from the looks of it, it may be even stronger now that she is becoming more their ancestral insect form. Like Beckett said, she is more animal than human by the moment but this also makes her behaviour more instinctual.

The part of Teyla that is wraith is seeking her out, and she seems to feel some kinship with her, still trying to help her out and save her. And important for the following episode is also the fact that she seeks out Teyla first. Earlier, it seemed like she went for the most dangerous targets first and objectively, both Ronon and Sheppard should be more threatening to her than Teyla. But Teyla is genetically closest to the wraith out of all three of them, and her animal instinct is drawn to her first. This is extremely relevant to Sheppard's behaviour toward Teyla after he starts taking on the characteristics of the bug. Teyla is her target, Teyla is encroaching on her territory, Teyla is the one her instinct tells her to take out.

Dex: She took a blow to the head when it hit her. Sheppard: Stay with her! Dex: Sheppard! Sheppard: That's an order.

Ronon and Sheppard manage to scare her away, and Sheppard removes his jacket to make Teyla more comfortable after taking a blow to the head. This is precisely where they could have used McKay, and just allowing Sheppard to keep his jacket on might have spared him a world of pain. But notice that seeing Teyla taken out, seeing Teyla injured, does not incapacitate Sheppard. It barely slows him down. He tells Ronon to stay with her while he intends to take care of the problem alone, and the faster he is able to do that, the quicker he can get back to McKay to make sure that he is safe. Because he knows that what happened to Teyla could have happened to McKay. What happened to Zaddik could have happened to McKay.

As he leaves, Sheppard makes it an order for Ronon to stay with her because he has no time to argue, he has no time to explain, and he knows that Ronon actually needs him to make it an order, it gives him a sense of security for someone to tell him what to do and be direct about it. He basically told McKay the same thing, for him to stay with Beckett earlier, and while the situation was less urgent and less dire, he did not make it an order and instead tried to explain to McKay why he wanted him to stay back ("McKay, stay here and help Beckett"). Beyond this, he also tried to use his eyes to give McKay direction for what he wanted him to do, further trying to explain to McKay why he needed him to stay back.

Also, if it had been McKay instead of Ronon here, Sheppard would very likely not even have needed to make it an order. If he told McKay to stay with her, he would have stayed with her. While Sheppard feels like he needs to give McKay a reason to do something, to give him an explanation, McKay actually does not need a reason to do something Sheppard wants him to do. He wants to do anything Sheppard wants him to do. Being able to do something for Sheppard is what gives McKay's life meaning just as protecting McKay seems to give Sheppard's life meaning. And so, all alone in the woods, we get to watch Sheppard play commando again.

While Sheppard is tracking the wraith all by his lonesome, Teyla regains consciousness and she has the following exchange with Ronon:

Teyla: What happened? Where's Colonel Sheppard? Dex: He went after the creature! Teyla: You let him go alone?! Dex: He wanted me to stay with you. Teyla: I am fine. Go! Dex: Aren't we supposed to follow his orders? Teyla: Sometimes we are allowed to make exceptions. Dex: And who decides when it's one of those times? Teyla: We do. Dex: That's good enough!

This gives us insight into the dynamic between Teyla and Sheppard, which is also relevant for the upcoming episode. Sheppard is someone Teyla has chosen to follow because she believes that he is a worthy leader, he is someone worth following. But Teyla does consider Sheppard a friend more than his commander, and when she thinks that he has made a stupid-ass decision, she is perfectly capable of ignoring it. Having just tussled with the girl turning into an iratus bug, she does not think that Sheppard is capable of handling this on his own and hence ushers Ronon to help him out, to keep him safe.

The fact that Ronon also did stay with Teyla when Sheppard told him to do so reminds us of the fact that Sheppard had brought Ronon on to safeguard his team, but McKay in particular. Ronon understood the assignment, and it is because he feels grateful to Sheppard for having taken him in that he tries to fulfill that obligation. If Sheppard needs him to protect the things he cares about, that is what he is going to do. But while Sheppard himself is very much not used to people wanting to take care of him, his team are every one of them a stubborn lot that are testament to how well he has made his choices. And Sheppard certainly could use the back-up right about now:

Sheppard: Ellia?! Don't make me do this.

As far as Sheppard understood it, Ellia had not only spared McKay's life but had saved it. Saving McKay's life is the most meaningful thing that a person can do, as far as Sheppard is concerned. It puts your name in his good books using permanent marker. It was only in the previous episode that Teyla confirmed the fact that it was because Ronon had saved McKay's life that they had given him "sanctuary". Saving McKay's life was the reason Sheppard had taken Ronon in, had allowed him to accompany them to Atlantis and had taken him in on his team. Sheppard feels like he owes anyone that manages to save McKay's life because he thinks that it is his job and they had done his job for him, and doesn't that just tell us everything we need to know about their relationship.

But here, it ends up costing Sheppard because the fact that he feels like he owes her one makes him hesitate for a moment too long. He does not want to take her life, he wants to spare it. He hates the wraith, and if there is anything he might hate more than the wraith, it is the iratus bugs. His instinct would be to kill it with fire. It is because his instinct to keep McKay safe overrides all his other instincts that he does not kill her immediately here, trying to reason with her when she is clearly beyond reason, trying to reach that part of her that he thinks saved McKay's life. But of course that is not what she had done in the first place. Her intention had been to kill anything encroaching on her territory, beginning with the wraith. It was inadvertently that her action had spared McKay's life, and it had been Beckett clipping her that had spared McKay from being her next victim.

Sheppard does get a few shots in before she overpowers him, and they too wrestle on the ground. Symbolically Sheppard wrestles with his own guilt, his own darkness, and the next episode is symbolic of this darkness overpowering him. Like we saw previously in The Siege (S01E19), when a wraith had stunned Sheppard and was closing in on him lying helpless on the ground, there are also echoes of sexual violence in this. And it is not insignificant that it is a female that is trying to feed on him, it is a female he is trying to protect his virtue from here. Sheppard seems to have a history of being victimized by women and I'll explore this in more detail later, but this is one of a dozen subtle indicators of why he does not feel comfortable with most women in his personal space regardless of whether he finds them attractive or not.

But as mentioned, symbolically this is more indicative of Sheppard wrestling with himself, and he very much seems to be losing that battle. It is only Ronon's intervention that saves his life, and he is not used to people saving him because he sees it as his job to save everyone else. And so they take her out together.

Dex: You OK? Sheppard: Yeah. She tried feeding on me. Dex: She wasn't gonna let us take her back. Sheppard: Yeah, I know.

The episode finishes with Sheppard watching her dead body and the complete and utter failure of this mission. She managed to injure him with her pincer, leading us to the next episode where Sheppard continues wrestling with his darkness, with his guilt, with his inability to trust and to let anyone close to him. Sheppard had tried trusting McKay, he had tried dealing with his issues, but they are clearly too deep-seated for him to solve them on his own. He keeps making decisions for McKay without discussing them with him, and this inability to communicate is just driving them further apart which is all the more ironic due to the ease with which they understand each other. McKay is not the problem, he is just where Sheppard has been concentrating all of his issues. And he has to start facing them before they eat him up alive.

[fatuismooches]

whats up pookie bear

I KNOW KNOWWWW I JUST SENT IN LIKE. SO MUCH FUCKING ASKS and im guilty im sorry feel free to ignore for a while them if you're getting annoyed 👍. but anways it's time for me to be annoying for the last time because i will hide away in shame 😭😭😭😭

i dont think people talk enough how dottore being in love, or his thoughs when he's in love or whatever.

LIKE YEAH, they've talked about it. but i wanna really just. IDK... more like, how i view it LMAOOO 💀💀

i just like to think that, there's just instances where he's so fucking in love with you, and that oh, he really needs you in his life and if you leave him it'd be like a shot through the heart. like he'd never be whole again, you know?

HEAR ME OUT,,😭😭

deep in his heart, he hopes you're not afraid of him, you know? that you're not like the rest of them—whispering behind his back, giving him fearful looks when he hasn't done anything. he's do grateful that you see him as a friend, not some fucking freak like everyone makes him to be. but monsters get treated like one, so when his village started grabbing pitchforks n torches, telling him to leave and go away,,, his eyes immediately looked for you amongst the crowd,,,, to see if you were one of them,, afraid of something they didn't understand,, something they didn't care to understand,,, n it was probably the first time he has ever truly felt fear, his heart pounding as he tries to dodge the fire being thrown at him, heat licking his skin,,, but then he sees you, looking around frantically with a bag on your shoulder,, and when you see him, you grabbed his hand and ran away together,, running and running as far as you could,,,

n honestly, all zandik could think about is how your hand fits so perfectly in his... intertwined,, feeling the texture of your hand as you ran together into the unknown...

thinking about how domestic you two were back at the akademiya n how living alone with you was so much better. he felt soo light on his feet when you're around, like youre constantly bringing him up to the clouds... he's so used to people giving him dirty looks, but you?? oh gods you just look at him so kindly, like he hasn't done things that the akademiya deems immoral and forbidden. as if he hasn't shown you his ideas that would be vile and inhumane to others,, u smile, n you laugh, and suddenly he finds himself thinking about how much you brighten your shared dorm room when you smile,, and how much he has grown to adore it,, he wanna hold your face to feel how your muscles flex and contracts whenever you smile and talk to him. he wants to count your teeth and feel them on his fingertips,, and it may be odd to others, but oh this.. this just means he's super into you. like he wants to study the entirety of your being,,. n its all because he's so curious and interested,, he wanna know more about you,,,he'd have xrays of you, memorizing your bone structure and how they all look individually n thinks its romantic when he digs his fingers onto your skin n tell you what bone he's feeling.

he compares it to when you cook for him 😭💗 like how you know all his favorites, and how he wants his food to be cooked, what temperature, texture and flavor,, like baby no, its not. but hey, its zandik and he's really trying hard to be romantic in his own way.

he thinks you're so pretty when you speak up for yourself, unlike him, who'd rather stay silent because he needed to keep a low profile after his offenses to the akademiya. you're not scared of getting your hands dirty, especially for zandik. you didn't fight a senior without a good reason (they were calling zandik a freak). and he loves how the dark crimson of the senior's blood smeared all over your reddening, and bruising knuckles looked. n as much as he loves seeing you smile, he loves the way your brows furrow in anger, eyes sharp as you punch your senior in his face,, and he feels goosebumps forming on his forearms when you grab on his collar and yell profanities at hi,,, n then when you look at zandik to check if he's okay, he's zoned out, but he's staring at you with flushed cheeks and heart in his eyes,, n he thinks ur sooo cute when you get flustered because of it, laughing sheepishly and rubbing the back of your neck. u get suspended for a few days n zandik was absent until you were able to go back to classes.

or when you go for expeditions w/o him cuz youre in diff darshans,, it feels so empty w/o you, and he can't imagine a life w/o you at that point. he gets so unmotivated and he's suddenly he's counting the ways, hours, minutes, and seconds until you're back>.. n when you extend for a week longer??? oh he's wallowing in pain and misery cuz ur not there to yell at him for not having a proper sleep schedule, or to remind him to eat at least twice or once a day, or to tell him that he's your pretty bf and that you love him, or there to hold him, or listen to him rant about his research...,, w/o you his life feels like a constant itch he can't scratch for some reason and he HATTTESS how being in love with you makes him feel so stupid like. w/o you, no distractions,!! he can do his research without you nagging but,, he misses it sooo soo much!!,, (he never tells you he misses you, but it's so obvious by the way he clings onto you so tightly when you finally cuddle after weeks of separation or how he refuses for you to leave his side for more than a minute, or if you have another expedition to do ,,, he'd literally fight the people telling you to join or his professors lMAOOO

it feels nice to just, look onwards and know that you'll be right behind him,, because you'd always have his back,, and after years and years of being with him and teaching him how to love,, he's proud to say that he'd do the same with you!

literally has piles and piles of research papers thats either all about you (your vitals, his notes of his observations (which is literally just talking about you like a love sick girl would in her diary about her crush), and probably other notes to keep an eye on your health), or himself (why he feels this way, what is the effects, etc etc). and he can never get a clear answer really,, all he does is observe, and think,, because fuck, no matter how hard he tries, loving you has to be one of the things he will never figure out,, you he doesn't have to, you know? you always tell him that, but he's a scholar, he has to! so the files pile up higher and higher... he's so endearing like that idk about you 😭😭😭

so happy you're with him in the fatui. i dont think he could handle his descent to madness w/o you in his life 😭💗

okay so i just ended up rambling 😡nvm LMAOO 😭😭💔 anyways uhh my head started hurtnng so thats alll HAVE A GOOD DAY SMOOCHES,, finally fluff for you

Kai thought he could drop this absolute masterpiece and we wouldn't notice 💀 LITERALLY SHUSHH OH YM GOSH THIS IS SOOOO GOOD I WAS SMILING SO HARD LIKE AN IDIOT HRAHHHH DDBJWDND COME BACK RN YOU'RE NOT ANNOYING. Because omfg,,, you're literally being so real right now, we need to talk about how much Dottore is in love with you, sure he can frequently be a rude ass sometimes but don't let that fool you into thinking he's not down bad for you... i just know that he's literally completely and utterly obsessed with every part of you. IBDWUIDWUD FUCK YOU WORDED WHAT I THINK SO PERFECTLY. There's a reason why he's so possessive over you. Why even when you two get into arguments, even if they take long af to resolve because he's also hella stubborn, they're going to get fixed eventually. Among other things. It's because he really does need you there by his side and if he didn't have you he doesn't know what the hell he would do. (Or his segments. No work would be done.) HEARING YOU OUT LOUD AND CLEAR POOKIE.

Oh gosh yes, it hurts my heart to think child Zandik would have to think such depressing thoughts but mhm. He definitely does. He's only a child. He can't help but worry. Sure you're his friend, sure he repeats all the times you were nice and kind to him in his head, but sometimes it does little to reassure him of your intentions. Maybe you're just as scared of him like everyone else and this is just some elaborate game you're playing with him. Though Zandik knows it's not true, he knows you're sincere, but every now and then the idea pops up in the back of his mind and it takes ages to get it out again. But on that day when everything changed, when nothing would be the same ever again all those thoughts immediately bubbled back up to the surface and Zandik wondered if this would be the end of the two of you. If this would be the time when you finally showed your true colors. And despite the world being against him he found that you were still with him, without an ounce of hesitation present in you. Despite everything, he felt relief.

Oh my gosh i love writing and reading the crazy unethical completely undomestic doctor man as being domestic with you. As time goes on and further away from that event, he would feel significantly more relaxed. You two would fall into a sort of routine, attending classes and doing group projects, whining about professors and ending the day off with you falling asleep to Zandik's tinkering in the background, and of course the research expeditions you two do together. I also believe the word "home" doesn't have any meaning to him nor does he care for it for obvious reasons, he doesn't consider anywhere his "home" nor does he have an emotional connection to it, but... with you, he feels the most comfortable, which is something. But that's what home is anyway, isn't it? And though he'll never say or perhaps even realize it, you'll always be the first to accept that Zandik is your home, the two outcasts who were thrown out together who have nothing but each other.

REALLLL i love how we all just agree that a part of his love language is just like, inspecting and examining you. Zandik wants to know every inch of your body better than you know it yourself. Yea it's a bit strange when he brings up a beauty mark on your body that you didn't even know you had yourself or when he shows you pictures of your bones to show how healthy and strong you are or analyzes a strand of hair he probably plucked from you while you were sleeping but how else is he supposed to show his love!! He doesn't understand why you look so 😧 in the beginning! He adores you so much that he's going out of his way to give you the utmost most in-depth examination and memorize all of it easily! He doesn't even know this much about his own body. HELP Dottore making horrible analogies is so him... but it's okay because soon enough when you see how serious he's being about it you start to find it pretty cute and endearing... we love a bf who tries his best.

I can't im literally exploding from all of these points... they're canon fr he would so love when you don't take shit from anyone, I mean why would you anyway? You're so obviously better than them so you shouldn't take poor treatment from anyone (he wouldn't allow it either, even though he does keep a low profile he will find a way to get back at anyone who dares to hurt or talk badly about you.) And omg yes,, there is no doubt in my mind he would find it so hot when you injure others. He loves the way the look in your eye changes to as if you're looking at nothing else besides a piece of trash. Your figure looks so hypnotizing when you're standing over your victim,,, when you casually leave and apologize for wasting time like it's a normal regular day,, that sweet smile back on your face,, and I guess you actually helped him out a bit because people talk less about him now solely because of the chance they might get beat by you.

UGH YES Zandik would definitely think he'd be fine without you, he doesn't need you that much, he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself! In fact, he could probably get some more work done without you bothering him every five seconds. Well, he's dead wrong. Everything just seems to annoy Zandik without you. You cooked some food to keep him fed for a few days but once it's done it really sets in that now he has to make his own food which tastes like shit compared to yours. He's put into a group project but you're not his partner because you're out on the expedition. He's already accidentally broken a few mechanical parts because the room is far too quiet without your voice. He's getting less sleep because you're not there to force him under the cover. He's less productive and he has no one to rant or go off on tangents to so now he's bottling too much things inside. Everything is just so bad and suddenly he's calculating the various amounts of time until you come back which is making Zandik tear his hair out. How dare you do this to him. This is disgusting behavior. In no way should he be so needy for you! He's honestly pissed at both himself and you. He wonders if you feel the same way he does right now or if he's really just a complete idiot. Oh but of course, he refuses to let go for once when you get back, he is not doing that shit ever again nor are you.

And as much as he hates it, the scientist part of him just finds it interesting how much smoothly things run when you're around again. You and your influences need to be studied further. And oh does he study. The filled-to-the-brim notebooks and papers say it all. You think he's reciting the universe's history with how much he writes. You tell him that he doesn't need to understand, some things in life are things you just know, but no. Zandik simply can't accept such an ideology. He must know exactly every single detail. If he can find the answer to godhood he can find the answer for love. You don't think that day will ever come, but you have fun watching your lover pore so many hours into this task.

Overall, he is really your sweet bf (and soon husband tbh) ily for this Kai. <333

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Mal/Jay for soulmark AU

First touch to your soulmate leaves a mark. It makes for interesting tales, on the Isle.

Something knocks on the window of the Bargain castle and Mal startles from her sleep: Surely, she was imagining it?

She lies motionless, listening, and again: A pebble against her window.

She throws off her cover and stalks over to the window, peeks out by the side of it: She doesn’t really expect a raging crowd with pitchforks or even just bored and bloodthirsty pirates under her – Maleficent’s – window, but one can never be too sure. But no, there is only one figure down below.

Only Jay, half hidden in the shadows.

She opens the window for him, waits for him to scale the wall like he usually does, but–

There is no sound. No movement.

Just Jay, holding his side and gesturing towards the back door that he shouldn’t even know about – Mal shivers as she hurries to open it. She doesn’t bother with a weapon or even her gloves, she barely remembers to grab an old jacket against the cold.

Barefooted, she runs through the halls of the Bargain Castle, prickling her ears for any sign that her mother noticed.

She hadn’t yet– she hadn’t.

Breathless and holding her breath anyway, Mal opens the door for Jay. He stumbles in immediately after, the metallic smell of blood with him. Mal scrunches her nose at that before zeroing in on Jay again.

She breathes in sharp when she realises how bad he looks: „Jay–“

He smirks at her – smirks at her! – and says: „Didn’t know where else to go.“

The smirk falls off his face soon after that, leaving only an expression of pain.

„Come inside,“ she urges, grabbing at his arm. It’s okay, because he has his leather jacket on, and barely anyone dares to spy on the Bargain Castle anyway.

„Who did this to you?“ she hisses as they start walking and she notices he’s limping too, holy Evil, he’s limping too–

She knows she should be quiet so as not to temp mother’s attention, but she thinks she needs to know what happened to him more.

„Hell Hall,“ he forces through his teeth and first of all, that’s a what, not a who and also:

„Why the fuck were you at the Hell Hall?!“

„Father,“ he says, „Less talk and more saving me?“

He tries and fails to smirk again.

She… can do that. She supposes she can do that.  So she grits her teeth together and leads him to her room as fast as he can walk, which is a good deal slower than she would like.

Fucking Hell Hall of all places, what was Jafar thinking?!

Nothing much, she supposes, and look at Jay now. Though if it hadn’t been a direct command but rather a stupid fucking idea of Jay’s to impress his ruin of a father, she‘s gonna skin him alive right after she is done with this.

Jay, that is.

…And Jafar too. Just for good measure.

Finally, they get back to her room and she guides Jay to an armchair her mother deposited in there, probably to have something resembling a throne for when she decides to grace her room with her mighty presence or what. It’s barely standing anyway and half-eaten by moths.

She helps Jay sit into it.

„Wait here,“ she says. She closes the door and hinges a broken broom under it to give herself at least an illusion of a barrier, and then she goes to get the first aid kit.

She has it stored high up, almost in the roof, wedged in between the beams along with all of her good shit – one of the few benefits of having a tower room, she supposes. And besides, she enjoys being high up.

She snatches the kit stored in a run down sac, grits the cloth in between her teeth and swings down; she lands almost directly in front of Jay. Nice.

„Nice move,“ he grunts out and she preens just a little.

„How bad is it?“

„Cruella’s bear trap,“ he indicates towards his leg and she hopes it isn’t broken, that it wasn’t just adrenaline holding him up.

„Knife.“ His side.

He moves his hand out of the way for her to have a look and shit, that’s bleeding, like, a lot. Mal is pretty certain that ain’t good.

But if she got her human anatomy right – and she should, she got an A from that class in Dragon Hall – no important organs were hit. 

She presses her hands to the wound as he didn’t have the good bloody sense to put his back and hisses: „Whose knife, Jay?!“

„Not telling you until after this,“ he has the audacity to tell her, „You might just get up and try to kill them, leave me to bleed to death in this fancy chair of yours.“

The fact that he is right doesn’t make it any less annoying.

„There are worse places to die, I suppose,“ he muses.

„Fuck you, Jay. And keep pressure on that yourself so I can actually do something about it, will you?“

Her hands are bloody when she pulls them away and she absentmindedly wipes them on her thighs. She opens her first aid kit: It’s not the best, but it’ll do. It’ll have to.

Just one more thing:

„Temporary damage control until you can get to any of the healers, or should I take care of it completely?“

„Completely. ’M not going to the port and Gothel’s been in a mood the last few weeks. Now get on with it– please“

Last few weeks, Mal is sure. About the same time she started gaslighting the Isle to believe the colour has always been in her hair, obviously.

She snickers at Ginny’s misfortune.

Now, cauterise the wound or stitch it up?

Both’s gonna hurt like a bitch.

She wipes her hands on her thighs again.

She’s always been clumsy with a needle, so, cauterisation it is. And the wound didn’t look that deep anyway, did it?

She pours some alcohol she haggled off the Mims onto a knife and sticks it into the nearest flame, holds it there until it’s burning hot: Jay obediently moves his hands away and bites down on his sleeve as not to scream.

Mal closes her eyes as the skin sizzles.

She pulls the knife away and pours more alcohol on the fresh scar, uses a bit of cloth to wipe down the blood.

Wait.

She’s pretty sure burns are not supposed to be this colour.

Like, at all.

Horrible idea settles on her mind and she wipes the blood of her own damn <i>gloveless</i> hands too.

She sits back at her heels and closes her eyes just so she wouldn’t need to look at Jay and their matching fucking soulmarks – 

She should– she should kill him. Let him die. Make the mark go away again, make her mother proud.

Why didn’t she do that?

Why?

Jay is still seething in pain, oblivious to what is happening and if she puts on the bandages now, the pain might blur into one for him. She moves mechanically.

Why doesn’t she let him die?

As she finishes wrapping his side, he comes back to himself and, noting her expression, he asks: „What’s wrong, Dragon?“ He slurs just a little.

She shows him her tainted hands.

„I should have let you die. I should have killed you while you were out of it,“ she informs him.

He tenses up, preparing to throw himself out of the window, she supposes, as he says, carefully: „You didn’t.“

She just shrugs. She has no excuse for herself.

„I didn’t,“ she echoes back at him.

„Can’t get rid of this pretty face,“ he jokes, and Mal throws the rest of the bandages at him. It’s not like they’re sanitary anyway. She could – should – still change her mind, doesn’t he know?

They stare at each other for few long moments that feel more like hours, really. 

Neither of them moves.

Jay slowly relaxes again.

She looks at her marked hands, folded in her lap.

„So,“ Jay offers finally, „Let's never talk about this again?“

That could work, she supposes. They don’t need to be promenading around, showing off their marks like certain people. They can pull this off.

„If you can handle not stripping down for every pair of pretty eyes,“ she jabs at him without her usual venom.

„I’m not sure however will the Isle live with that loss.“

Egotistical bastard.

She pulls at her hands, at her forever-tainted fingers and palms.

„…Gloves?“ he asks.

„Forgot them – because of you,“ she manages to say it in an accusatory tone, instead of the „Because you scared me, I was worried about you,“ that is on her tongue.

What she says is not a lie.

„I can get you new ones. For the trouble.“

Yeah, no.

„You’re going nowhere until we take care of that leg too,“ she informs him and he settles back into the chair without argument.

„And you didn’t tell me whose knife it was.“

He tries that bloody smile on her again and stretches out the leg.

With only a minute level of satisfaction, she pours the alcohol onto his open wounds.

He gasps at the pain and then says: „I’m– I’m actually not sure. Kind of a blur, y’know?“

Well, that just means Mal will have to deal with all of them, how lovely. 

„Stupid fucker.“