#*withering from being touch starved*

[idiotvision]

want be held so bad want kisses and cuddles augh

[dalishthunder]

I am now accepting cuddle buddy applications

[winterrrnight]

touch starved rafe getting the hug he’s so desperately needed all his life <3 a rafe cameron x reader blurb <3 inspired by this bot by the one and only @pearlzier ! <3 cw: minimal swearing, mentions of blood, rafe being anxious, hurt/comfort, intentional use of lower case

“oh man…” rafe breathes out, his steps unstable with blood covering his hands and tear stains on his face as he practically stumbles inside your room.

“I’m… I’m so fucked man… so so fucked…” he mumbles, his words rushed and frantic. you rush to your feet after getting up from the bed, watching how he nervously paces in your room, his fingers slipping into his curtain bangs and pulling on the roots aggressively.

“somethin’s… somethin’s seriously wrong with me and…” he hiccups, his gaze fixed on the floor of your room as he continues to pace, and you watch him with bated breath, your hand gripping on the edge of your bed to keep yourself supported as you watched him with wide, nervous eyes, “and I don’t know what to fuckin’ do…”

you let out a shaky breath, a breath only audible to your ears as you continue to watch his nervous pacing. in your time of knowing rafe, you’ve never seen him so… fidget-y. you can see how he keeps on reaching for his nails to chew on them, his other hand nervously rolling a certain patch of the hem of his shirt over and over again between his index finger and his thumb.

almost suddenly, he quits with the pacing. he stands there still in the middle of your room, his back towards you. he quits with the fidgeting too, his both hands now resting on his sides, the blood on his knuckles now starting to dry up, and you can see how subtly he is flexing his fingers.

a moment of silence passes over you two. you take in a deep breath and it lodges in your throat as you start to take small, silent steps to him. you stand behind him, so close that with a soft nudge to the back of your head, your nose will press into his back. slowly, you bring your hand up, and as if he’s the most delicate porcelain doll on this planet, you place your hand on his back.

his back immediately flexes, and you hear him take a sharp intake of breath. your hand doesn’t move, your fingertips just gently pressing into the cotton of his shirt. a moment passes over you two in complete silence, and when rafe doesn’t say anything to you, you take it as a small sign and press your fingers firmer into his back.

you start to softly glide your fingertips over his back in an up and down periodic motion, and you hear rafe letting out a strangled exhale. your eyes flicker over his shoulders and you see them relax ever so subtly, the tense posture of them slowly withering away.

you continue with the soft motions of your fingers and rest your forehead against his shoulder blade, taking in a deep breath. your other hand curls around his fingers and you ever so carefully intertwine your fingers with his, not caring if any blood from his hand gets onto yours.

“rafe…” you whisper into the still air of your room. your voice reverberates in rafe’s ears, and he lets out a soft hum.

“turn around please…” you murmur, your thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. he obliges, slowly turning around and you lift your head up from his shoulder blade. he looks in your eyes through his own bloodshot ones, and at that moment you know you’ve never seen anything more heartbreaking than tears in rafe’s eyes.

you hook your arms around his neck and pull him into a warm embrace. for the first few seconds, rafe is stiff. really stiff. it’s almost like he doesn’t know what to do. but you know you’re supposed to give it time. you gave it time and he was okay with you softly rubbing his back, he’s going to be okay with this too.

and okay he is.

his arms wrap around your waist and his face buries into your neck. his grip tightens, as if he’s afraid he’ll let go and you will disappear into thin air. he lets out deep, shaky exhales against the skin of your neck, as if trying so desperately hard to keep himself in control.

“i’m here for you…” you whisper softly, your fingers playing gently with the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

those words… those simple words seem to set off something in him nothing ever has.

tears start streaming down his eyes, and this time, he doesn’t let them restrict in any way possible. he lets the tears fall, years and years of anxiety, the pain of not being enough, the tiredness of working too hard to prove himself all falling down to this exact moment; the moment where he lets his walls crumble down.

sobs erupt out from his dry throat and he slowly slides down on his knees in front of you, his arms wrapped tightly around your hips as he nuzzles his face into your stomach, crying his eyes out into the fabric of your shirt.

you feel your heart ache at the sight, him hanging onto you so desperately, and you try to comfort him by threading your fingers through the silky strands of his hair.

it’s as if you can see the remains of his crumbled walls around his knees. you can see how he’s completely let himself go, how he’s letting his most vulnerable state come out, how he’s trusting you deeply.

now it’s up to you and only you to help him clear the rubble of the old walls and build new ones, ones which allow him to trust and be trusted, ones which allow him to love and be loved, ones which allow him to appreciate and be appreciated.

— —

I’m trying my hardest to get back into a proper writing flow, so for now, I hope you enjoy this blurb <3 this is something I’ve been wanting to write for quite some time 💗

[wileys-russo]

NOOOO now we need a pt 2 of cough medicine with a grumpy reader because alexia has passed the cold to her and alexia dressing up in the nurse outfit to surprise her…

lil sequel to this ! suggestive content at the end cough medicine 2.0 II a.putellas

"mi princesa i said i was sorry!" your girlfriend groaned as you scoffed and reached to grab the bottle of water on the coffee table in front of you.

"sorry doesn't make me not sick alexia i warned you!" you grunted ou in annoyance, pushing away her hands which attempted to massage your shoulders.

"bebita in my defense-" your girlfriend started, accent thick as she spoke english but the withering glare you shot her had her wishing she'd mumbled it in spanish and out of your earshot as she fell silent and your attention returned to the television.

"can i get you something?" the catalonian asked sweetly as you ignored her, tucking your knees up to your chest and pulling the blanket to your chin. "mi amor do you need anything? tissue, cough medicine, tea, soup, a hug?" your girlfriend smiled hopefully as you shot her a blistering side eye.

"for you to leave me alone." you grumbled, sniffling and wiping your nose with the sleeve of your hoodie. you'd even refused to wear one of alexia's and thats when she knew you were perhaps just a touch beyond the normal level of grumpy you became when unwell.

though really alexia knew it was her fault. you'd at first been strong and held quite firm to the no kissing rule when she was sick last week, needing to still be viable and healthy to look after her as well as work from home while you did so.

now to the average bystander they'd not know the true nature of your girlfriends incredibly clingy tendencies, but when her walls were down and it was just the two of you she melted like a icey in the sun, crawling on top of you.

if you didn't react fast enough she'd grab your arms and wrap them around her, tucking them up the back of whatever was covering her torso, the blonde mumbling into your neck she wanted back scratches and you'd often tease that if she got any closer she'd be inside your skin.

then when alexia was sick it was even more dire that she have every possible ounce of your attention and touch. so as the hours ticked by and you'd still held firm that her lips weren't to touch yours and she not get too close, her attempts to break you down also doubled.

unfortunately to your own detriment you also found yourself feeling a little touch starved, and the more effort alexia made to getting you to crack the closer and closer you stepped toward the edge.

but over and over you warned her that not only did you have to work but you had a music festival with your friends on the weekend you needed to be in fit and fighting shape for.

spoiler alert, a night of consolation kisses to cheer up your incredibly pouty and miserable girlfriend who was informed she'd not be fit enough to make the squad this weekend meant it was needless to say you weren't going to the music festival now.

it had been frosty for the last two days since.

you'd even gone as far as to put up a pillow wall as a compromise for not kicking alexia out of the bed much to the constant whining and apologizing and groveling and begging and pleading you were far too tired and unwell to give into.

"mi vida. por favor i do not know what else to do, i have said over and over i am very sorry!" alexia groaned again, collapsing into the sofa beside you, thumping into the cushions and hazel eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"i told you, leave me alone." you huffed, well aware you were now bordering on overreacting but your dampened state of well being and the fomo of watching your friends all have fun at the festival without you was making it near impossible to move on from that.

with one final sigh and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before you could push her away alexia did as you asked and left you be. and with the warmth of the blanket and your inconsistent temperature it didn't take long before you drifted off.

when you woke up it was to an all too familiar smell, lifting your head groggily and peeking over the back of the lounge you could see your girlfriend with her back to you in the kitchen.

you hadn't made a single noise but alexia could feel your eyes on her as she glanced over her shoulder and threw you a smile which you didn't return, though you also didn't turn away, resting your chin on top of the sofa and watching her as she cooked.

"are you making your soup?" you rasped out after awhile, unable to ignore the overwhelmingly alluring smell wafting closer and closer. "maybe." alexia grinned coyly as you rolled your eyes and flopped back down onto the sofa.

"not in the mood for cute." you quipped with a huff, stretching your arms out behind your head and tuning back into the spanish soap opera your girlfriends sister had gotten you shamefully addicted to, though alba never ceased to tease that you needed the subtitles on.

you glanced up when you heard someone clear their throat, looking up at your girlfriend for a fleeting moment as she stood before you and placed down two bowls of soup on the coffee table before your gaze returned to the television

but then when you realized alexia had done an outfit change, your head snapped back so fast you near gave yourself whiplash.

"hola bebita." she purred with a suggestive smile as you sat upright and covered your mouth with your hand, taking in your incredibly athletically built girlfriend in all her glory.

her glory being the ill fighting barely covering nurses costume that was yours which was sitting taunt against her muscular body.

given the fact it was made in your size and not hers, and she easily stood two and a half heads taller, she looked like one wrong move would have her bursting out of it like the hulk.

and so you did the only thing your body could do in the moment taking her in and the way her thick quad muscles had the garters wrapped around them about a millisecond from snapping, you collapsed backwards into the sofa clutching at your stomach, body heaving with laughter which rang around your empty shared home.

the reaction was clearly not what the taller girl anticipated as her mouth formed a small o and she crossed her arms, the way the sleeves ripped as she did so only making you laugh harder.

"hey! this was supposed to be sexy, not funny!" alexia protested with a huff, your head shaking to and fro as you tried to stop laughing for a moment so you could get a word out.

"cariño its not funny!" alexia groaned, a slight blush coating her cheeks as she shuffled closer. "oh mi amor you're forgiven. you're so forgiven!" you pulled your phone out and wiped a stray tear, snapping a few photos as your girlfriend gasped and tried to cover up.

"well this was not what i wanted but i am glad to at least see you smile again." alexia gave in with a shake of her head, moving to sit down beside you so you could both eat, grateful to hear her favorite noise once more as your belly laughter subsided into giggles.

but right as she did a strange noise sounded and your hand once more flew to your mouth, alexia now near naked beside you as the entire back of the ensemble ripped clean in half, your eyes raking over the taunt tattooed and tanned skin of her back.

"don't." alexia warned seriously, a pleading look in her eyes as you lost it again, sagging into her and clutching at your stomach as the sounds of your laughter filled the air. "amor!" alexia whined, clearly embarrassed as her hands flew to cover her own face.

"are you comfortable?" you teased, sitting up on your knees beside her once your laughter had settled, wrenching alexia's hands away from her face with a raised eyebrow. "no." your girlfriend mumbled with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

"so now you understand how it feels when i dress up for you." you hinted, eyebrow raising even higher as alexia sighed but nodded. "i have more muscles! it hurts more." the girl huffed, bottom lip jutting out into a slight pout.

"thats what you're going to take from all of this? ale i just forgave you, don't piss me off again." you huffed smacking her chest lightly as the corners of her mouth curled upward slightly.

"why not? it is what you are taking from this, no?" the slight smile turned into a full on grin now as she settled back into the lounge a little more clearly making an effort to flex her biceps and upper arm muscles as they sat folded behind her head.

"still not in the mood for cute. and thanks to you i'm sick, so if it was sex you were angling for putellas...think again." your hand smacked gently against her cheek a few times with a wink.

though before you could reach for your food your back was flat against the sofa and your girlfriend hovered over you, settling herself on her knees between your legs.

"you know bebita, there is still a lot i can do for you while you are unwell. but only if you are feeling up to it!" a singular finger trailed down your bare leg, her smirk widening at the goosebumps which arose in response.

"well you are a nurse, and it would be wrong of me to assume i know what i need better than a nurse." you smiled, alexia raising an eyebrow as she sunk a little lower, a few kisses trailed up your leg as you hummed, already feeling better as they got higher and her large hands gripped your thighs pushing your legs even further apart.

you sighed in pleasure and tangled your hands in her hair as her chin rested on your abdomen, looking up at you with a smile as she played with the hem of your shorts, t-shirt pushed upward and a few kisses placed to your stomach as your eyes fluttered closed and your shorts suddenly dissapeared.

"let me make it all feel better princesa."

[vashs-turtleneck]

Muted.

✧ Nimble-fingered bonus chapter.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Summary: A teasing night on a rickety old couch with your beloved typhoon. Pairing: Vash the Stampede x f!reader Word count: 2.8k Content: smut, pwp, Vash swearing a lot, teasing and possessive Vash, finger sucking, p in v sex, silly little ending. A/N: technically a bonus chapter with some similarities to the first one, but you don't really need to read the first one to get what's happening. also vash's hands continue to give me unholy thoughts :3

18+ ONLY, MDNI!

“Haah… That’s it, mayfly. Just like that. Keep going.” 

His shirt and jacket discarded, tossed somewhere on the floor along with all your clothes. His pants are pulled down to his knees, just enough to give you full access to his cock as his muscular thighs cushion your own, bouncing yourself on his lap, filling yourself over and over again with his throbbing cock. 

Vash shuts his eyes tightly and lets his head fall back against the couch, letting you see the bob of his Adam's apple as he moans and groans out loudly into the room. His angelic noises mix with the sound of the withered couch groaning beneath the two of you, feeling the whole thing shift and creak with your combined weight. 

“F-Fuck, mayfly. So fucking good," he hisses, his palms planted firmly on your hips as he helps you up and down on him, blunt fingernails digging deliciously into your soft flesh, just enough to leave little red marks that you know you’ll be wearing proudly for the coming days.

You lean forward slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck. 

“You’re being too loud, love. We’re gonna wake the whole place up if you don’t keep it down.”

With an almost frustrated growl, Vash raises his head and meets your gaze, those baby blues half-lidded and filled with a deep, almost feral lust you don’t often see from the outlaw. He’s hungry tonight, completely starved for you and eager to get his fill of your body, and you’re more than happy to give it to him. 

“Not like I can help it. You’re so– ah! – so fucking tight. You’re killing me here!”

“I just don't want anyone teasing us about this in the morning, or a noise complaint,” you say back softly, trying to soothe the typhoon, but gentle words aren’t enough to stop an oncoming storm. 

Vash puffs out a deep sigh. You’re right of course, he knows that, but you’re making it damn hard to care about the noise he’s making. His eyes fix themselves on you, on your body, wanting to take it all in, wanting to touch every part of you, to see every inch of you. Watching the sway of your hips as you ride his cock, admiring the softness of your thighs, the bounce of your breasts, until those piercing eyes fall back to your face, a mischievous glint hiding behind his stare. Your body is perfect, like it was tailored just for him to explore.

“Then we better find a way to keep my mouth occupied." 

Vash’s hands run up the sides of your body, tracing your curves until he stops at your breasts. With his prosthetic palm, he gently squeezes your breast and rolls his thumb over your nipple. He brings his mouth to your perked little bud, kissing and lavishing his tongue over the tender skin before carefully catching your nipple between his teeth and pulling back lightly, only to dive back in and suck it into his scorching mouth. His other hand falls to the globe of your ass, squeezing your cheek as you bounce yourself on his cock. You feel his hand leave you before you feel a firm slap, making you yelp, gripping tightly and digging his fingers into the plush fat of your butt. He pulls and pushes you down onto his lap, forcing you into a slightly faster rhythm that has your cunt pulsing around him. 

“You are divine, angel. You know that? Makes me want to let the whole inn know that you’re mine," he groans as he parts his lips from your stiffened peak and keeps his eyes fixed on the way your face twists with pleasure. 

"You like it, don't you? Like the idea of everyone knowing who you belong to?" Vash grins at you as he feels you begin to writhe against him and your back arch from the sensation. His hand grasps your breast even tighter, his cold fingers massaging your nipple, squeezing it between his thumb and index finger, twisting ever so slightly and causing your moans to ring out in the room.

"N-No," you whimper weakly, but you feel your own body betraying you.

"Liar," he growls against the shell of your ear. “I can feel your pussy squeezing me, mayfly. I know you like it.”

He goes back to focusing on your nipple, and the way his tongue swirls over the tip of your breast has your breath catching, an uncontrollable series of pleasured whimpers escaping you as you fall victim to his loving abuse.

“V-a-ah-sh!”

His lips part from your nipple one more time with a quiet pop, running his tongue along his bottom lip and collecting the excess saliva around his mouth as he chuckles hoarsely at you. 

"You don't know what you're doing to me, sweet thing. When you whimper and moan my name like that, it just makes me want you even more," the outlaw purrs before he slaps your ass again, forcing out a groan out from deep in your lungs, your nails digging into the strong muscles of his broad chest.

“Look who’s the loud one now,” Vash teases, a wolfish grin splitting his face, clearly pleased with himself for making you lose control of your own voice. “Thought you were worried about someone hearing us?”

“It’s your fault,” you whine out with a pout, frankly a bit embarrassed that he can make you lose yourself so easily. 

“Hm,” he hums, that mischievous glint in his eyes ever present. “We better keep your mouth occupied too then.”

Before he can even give you a chance to respond, the fingers of his warm and calloused hand are already tracing your lips, kindly warning you before he shoves his two long middle and ring fingers into the warm channel of your mouth.

“Suck." His voice is so soft, yet his command is firm and clear.

Without pause, your tongue swirls around the long digits, hollowing your cheeks and inviting them in with your soft lips, rewarding you with moans from the humanoid typhoon. You can’t stop yourself from whimpering and moaning still, completely drowning in the pleasure of having both your mouth and pussy filled with nothing but him. His attempt at keeping you quiet is backfiring. 

“You’re still so loud. Having a hard time controlling yourself, mayfly? You're so cute," he coos, and you don’t miss the teasing tone behind his soft tone. “It's such a shame, really. You know I love hearing you, but I can't say I don't also love putting that little mouth of yours to good use.”

Vash leans himself back slightly, just enough to give him a full view of your cunt engulfing his cock over and over. He can see all of you, feel all of you– the way your pussy drools down his shaft and coats his thighs and balls with your mixed juices, the pretty white ring of cream you're leaving at the base of his dick, the subtle twitch of your hips as your core clenches around him. Then his eyes travel up to your chest, shamelessly watching your tits bounce with every little movement of your hips. His eyes don’t leave your breasts as he bucks up into you, pushing his cock so deep into you that you swear you feel the tip press a hot kiss to your cervix. The feeling makes you yelp in a mix of pleasure and surprise, jolting your body and making your breasts jiggle even more in front of his prying eyes. 

“Fuck. Look at you. Taking me all the way in. Good girl," Vash praises and smiles in a sort of reverence and satisfaction. “So beautiful, mayfly. So fucking perfect for me, just for me.”

His prosthetic leaves your breast, trailing down to the apex of your sex and rolling his thumb over your clit. The feeling sends a shiver up your spine, mewling desperately against the fingers in your mouth. Those long digits glide in and out, following the rhythm of your hips, teasingly pressing against your tongue and muffling the sounds of your sweet cries.

"That's my girl," Vash says quietly and shakily, his lips sliding along your jawline and peppering your face with tender kisses, his fingers massaging and pinching the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. His own hips start bucking against you, pushing his cock deeper inside you with each thrust. His tongue moves to your neck now, his teeth biting into it softly as he feels you moan out more. Your hips start to stutter against his, losing your rhythm under his merciless onslaught of pleasure.

“Ah ah ah, don’t get too distracted now, angel. Be a good girl and keep riding me,” he whispers against the column of your throat, chastising you and praising you all at the same time. “Focus, love. You've got this.”

Your hands clench against his chest, desperately trying to keep it together despite everything he’s doing to make you fall apart. You squeeze your eyes closed, willing every part of yourself into being good for him, steadying your hips and falling back into that euphoric rhythm that has you seeing white behind your eyelids. He’s being so good to you, after all. You want to be good for him, too. 

“That’s it. Fuck– yeah, that’s it. So damn good for me.”

He pulls his head back, keeping his eyes focused on his lap again, watching how your pussy sucks him back in every time you pull away.

“Squeezing me so damn tight. You’re so close, I can feel it,” he growls, and with one more gentle glide of his fingers over your tongue, he pops them out of your mouth, letting his hand fall to the plush of your thigh and giving it a firm squeeze. “Why don’t you let the whole inn know who’s making you feel so good, sweetheart?”

He’s right, of course. You’re not going to last much longer, and you can feel the heat rising to your face at his request. Such a dirty request from such a sweet man, but you’re in no position to deny him. 

“Vash…” you say in muted tones, and as soon as his name leaves your lips, you know that’s not what he wanted, a disapproving “tsk” leaving his lips as he clicks his tongue. 

“Louder. Who do you belong to?” he asks you again, carefully pinching your clit and making his desires loud and clear– he won’t let you off the hook that easily. 

“Vash,” you say again, a bit louder this time.

“Look at me," he breathes out, his scorching breath ghosting over your already burning skin. 

Your eyes flutter open, and at first, you can barely focus on him, your mind hazy from your oncoming orgasm. Those piercing sapphire eyes don’t so much as flicker from yours, regarding you fully and filled with nothing short of complete reverence, flooded with a primal, uncontrollable desire and an all-encompassing love for you – raging, yet serene. 

So this is what it feels like to be in the eye of the storm. 

“One more time, angel. Nice n’ loud. Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

His face is close enough to yours that you can feel his lips brushing against your own with every word he speaks, his fingers pressing firmly and circling your clit, turning you into a trembling mess on his own lap. 

“Vash!”

You cry out in your euphoric haze, letting yourself fall into the raging waves of ecstasy wrecking your body. Your core clenches down on Vash’s cock in your climax, your body begging for him to give you everything he has, just as you give yourself to him. 

“Y-Yeah– like that. Just like that, angel.”

He moans out in tandem with you, easing the pressure of his fingers against your sensitive bud and guiding you through your orgasm.

“A-Aah feels so good. S-Shit– I-I can’t– ’m coming!”

And with a sweet, broken cry of your name leaving his lips and echoing off the thin walls – a declaration to the heavens themselves of his love for you – his own hips stall, a delicious heat running down his spine as he spills himself completely into you, painting your insides white with his hot cum and leaving you feeling more full than you thought possible. He exhales a shuddering breath and eases the tight grip on your body, letting you slump down against him.

“I love you. I love you so much," Vash says breathlessly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you to his chest, letting his face fall to your shoulder and resting his head against yours before peppering the side of your face with soft kisses. “You’re so good. Always so perfect for me, baby. I love you.”

You hum wistfully as he showers you with his tender affections, his touch so delicate and careful that it’s almost hard to believe this is the same man who was mercilessly teasing you and lovingly rearranging your guts mere moments ago.

“You okay, mayfly?”

You nod. “I’m okay, love,” you say back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, thighs still trembling against his own and shaky breaths mixing with his.

“Do you wanna keep going? Or do you need a minute? I can get you some water.” His flesh and bone hand comes up to cradle your face, tilting your head so he can kiss along your face the way he wants to. He’s barely recovered himself, and here he is concerning himself with your well-being. 

“I can– I want to keep going,” you reply, leaning your head into the palm of his warm hand.

“So eager, mayfly,” Vash chuckles against your cheek. “Good, ‘cause I’m not quite done with you yet,” he mutters hoarsely as his kisses turn more passionate again, his mouth focusing on the side of your neck, those sharp teeth gently nipping at your skin. “What do you say I get you off my lap and I bend you over this couch, huh baby?”

He already has you moaning again. He knows your body better than he knows his own, and he knows exactly what buttons to press to get you squirming on his lap again. Your response is a subtle roll of your hips, angling yourself so you can sink down onto him completely, and you can feel the groan he lets out vibrating in his chest. He may know your buttons, but you know his too. 

He pulls back from your neck, sapphire eyes drinking in the delicious sight of you. His lips part, but before he can speak, the sound of your heavy breaths is suddenly accompanied by a startling snap.

*Crack*

“Heh?” His eyes widen in confusion, your bodies stilling for a moment before you hear it again.

*Crack*

The surface beneath the two of you suddenly gives out, Vash’s hands instinctively wrapping around you and cradling the back of your head as you both fall back into the broken couch, its wooden supports having snapped under all the pressure. 

“WHAAGH– Eek! Ouch ouch ouch!” Vash whines from beneath you as he absorbs most of the fall.

“Oh god, are you okay? Are you hurt!?” you exclaim, cupping his face in your palms, your eyes darting between him and the wreckage surrounding you both now. 

No way that just happened.

“Ehh… I’ll be fine. My butt might be a little sore later though,” he groans, trying to sit up slightly. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“No, not at all. I'm fine. I had a big strong plant man to keep me safe.”

“What a relief," he sighs.

You two are awkwardly positioned now, Vash somewhat stuck in the wreckage of the broken couch as he keeps you safely planted on his lap, and you can feel his dick still twitching inside you.

“Hold on. Let me get off you. I'll help you up,” you say as you try to pry yourself off him. You try to find a surface to grab and pull yourself off of him, being careful with the bits of old, broken wood surrounding the both of you.

Yeah, this is gonna cost a pretty penny. That paired with how you just cried out his name so loud that it absolutely carried through the thin walls of the inn has you flushing a deep red. There’ll be no hiding what the two of you were doing when you have to tell reception about their broken couch. 

“Mayfly..?” Vash mutters, his big blue eyes looking up at you with a sheepish look on his face, his lower lip wobbling and sticking out in an adorable little pout. 

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

He has tears forming in the corners of his eyes, cheeks flushed in… embarrassment?

“I think… I think there’s a splinter in my ass.”

a/n: picturing Vash with a little bandaid on his butt. Also guess Vash and couches don’t mix well (sorry)

divider.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 7

Pure Indulgence 2

Summary: The only way Cooper wants any part in sharing you is if he's in charge. Hancock is fine with being ordered since he gets to be the one between your thighs. You're just along for the ride.

Pairing: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader / John Hancock x Female Reader

Warnings! Drinking and Drug use. Threesome. Smut and power dynamics? Blood too. Jesus this feels sinful.

Masterlist. Part 2 -> HERE

You lay on your back, head pillowed in Cooper’s lap, eyes glassy and heavy from the hit of jet Hancock had pressed to your lips on the way up the stairs of the Old State House that Hancock calls home. Cooper's scarred fingers have threaded themselves in your hair, keeping you still for the other ghoul that lays between your thighs. Your legs have been shoved up, knees swaying and twitch in the air.

"Don't be such a pussy, John," Cooper rumbles from behind you, and reaches down to pinch your nipple harshly, and he smirks when you sigh and bow off the bed, seeking more, "My girl likes it rough."

Hancock humms, and the subtle vibrations against your clit make you buck up, but John is stronger than what his lanky stature made it seem, and keeps you held down with ease. He abandons your throbbing bud with one last lingering suck, and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your thigh, making room for his hand to sneak up and shove two fingers into that beautiful, wet cunt.

Cooper watches, dark eyes focused on the way you wither and shake under the onslaught of having both of them touch you. The hand that John isn't using to finger fuck you with pushes your hip down, and he can't help but find the entire sight hot as fuck. He shifts behind you, pushing you forward so that he can bend down and seal his lips against your own in a furious kiss full of teeth and tongue. The cowboy bites your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, and the groan you make when he cleans the red liquid has his cock twitching in his boxers.

"Let a man enjoy his meal. Ain't every day that I get something as sweet as this," Hancock murmurs and flicks the tip of his to gue through your puffy folds, gathering the slick pooling from your cunt and lapping it up like the starving mutt he is.

Your mind is slow and muddled, a fantastic mixture of alcohol, chems, and blazing arousal that you lose yourself in.

"Curl your fingers up - heh, yeah, jus' like that," Cooper orders when he pulls away from your red smeared lips. Your eyes clinch shut when the tips of his fingers brush against that spongy spot hidden within your core. A broken sound of pleasure falls from your lips, and your thighs quiver when John does it again.

"Look at that, better than the smoothest hit of jet," Hancock drawls and cocks his head up to look at the other ghoul, lips twisting in a sardonic smirk, "Can I fuck her now, Sir?"

It irks him to call the other man that, but John wasn't one to pass up good things, and neither did Cooper it seemed like. So it wasn't too much of a loss.

Cooper’s grin is nasty, and he reaches out to hold the other ghoul by the jaw, the tips of his fingers digging into Hancock's jaw, and rumbled, "Ask nicely."

If John were still human, he would have blushed at the display of dominance. Instead, he grinned just as meanly back and hissed.

"Please?"

Cooper laughed, then released the other man, leaning back against the headboard in satisfaction. You squirmed under them, lips twisted up in a pout at their attention drifting away from you. Your cowpoke snickered, and waved a hand at John.

"Hurry it up, boy. The lady's gettin' impatient."

Hancock doesn't need to be told twice. He sits back on his knees and grabs his dick, and scoots forward to drag his cockhead through the mess between your legs. You whine in want, hips shifting, and looking for release. John angles himself and then slides inside your fluttering pussy with a long groan.

"Fuck," He snarled and buried his face in the crook of your neck, hips jumping forward as you clench around him. John gets lost in the feeling of your cunt, and you wrap your legs around his hips, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"She feels good, huh, John. Nice and tight like a goddamn vice," Cooper snarls above you, and the ghoul between your legs jerks a nod, his brow furrowed, and you turn your head, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along his heated skin.

You nip his neck, tongue soothing the hurt, and you squeeze your legs around his hips, pushing him ever further. His cock brushes against that spit inside you again, and you see stars, mouth dropping open as you pant out nonsense.

It's over for the mayor when you bite him again, and then he hears your sex rough voice growl in his ear.

"Come inside me, John. I wanna feel it."

Hancock comes with a muffled shout, his shoulders shuddering as he pumps you full of seed. Your cunt greedily sucks him in, and he is left a panting mess when while you wither and cream around his cock. He doesn't get to enjoy it for long before Cooper is shoving at his shoulder.

John reluctantly pulls out and rolls to the side and watches as Coop takes his place and slides home. His teeth bared in a savage grin as he wraps a hand around your throat, leaning down and looming.

"My turn now, Sweetheart. Hope you can keep up."

[the-rocket-scientist]

HEADCANON: Yandere! Alt.Gabriel (Romantic)

My first headcanon requested by pseudomarionette on Wattpad, this chapter was written on my Wattpad and AO3 long ago

- Lucifer is NOT delusional when in love. At all. He knows what he is doing is harmful. If the person he likes doesn't love him, he knows. He is aware of everything he is doing. He's intelligent, so take out the possibility that the fact he could be delusional. Because he knows delusion could blind him and make his actions rash. That could ruin his plan, right? So he is extremely coordinated at everything he is doing, every tiny bit of action. Especially if it's directed towards his love interest.

- Sadistic bitch. Will do anything to manipulate his love interest, even if it means hurting them, or even killing other people they care about when they are directly watching. If he wants to see his love interest suffer, they will suffer. Either in mental pain, emotional pain, physical pain (most of the times all of the above, in preferred order from favorite torture method to the least fav) he will enjoy it. Not a nice guy :/

- Possessive. Will see his love interest as a beautiful puppet or doll. He will take good care of what is his and is beautiful just like him. But he will erase their memories to forget everyone and everything they knew except for himself. Now his love's attention is all focused on him, and only him. And so he will return the favor and direct his whole attention to them.

- Also a tsundere. He will never admit he loves his love interest. You could only figure out that he loves them by the nicknames he calls them.

- Nicknames for love interest: "My child." (most preferred) "My love." (Very rarely used, as it exploits his weakness of love towards his most favorite being in the cosmos.)

- But he is nice to his love interest for most of the times. It's only when even the smallest of rebellion against him will get them into manipulation and torture. 

- Portrays himself the most beautiful as possible in his false angel form when around his love interest. Long wavy blonde hair, fair skin, cold, slanted almond blue eyes that never shine. He is tall and magnificent, his love interest would only reach his chest in terms of height (no matter how canonly tall they are, for Lucifer adjusts his height to always be this way). His white robes trail down to cover his elegant bare feet and slender hands seem to always be clasped behind his back. Note that everything about him is all grayscale except for his blue eyes. He wants them to be impressed and mesmerized by his beauty, and then they'll never leave, memories erased. Even when torturing his love interest he will stay elegant and pretty so they could rely on him while they witness other horrifying things. 

- It is only when he is trying to keep his love interest as close as possible from a perceived threat, and his last resort to breaking them psychologically is when he reveals his true form.

- He is able to summon his wings. They look flawless at first, but on closer inspection you could see withered and burnt feathers between the pearly white ones. He uses these to give the illusion he is flying (he can already levitate without them) and to hug his love interest.

- He is cold, body temperature wise and personality wise. He isn't clingy most of the time, so if his love interest is a touch-starved person, he will push them away with his telekinesis powers or with one hand. He will hug them when he wants to. His demeanor can be cold and mean to most people, which is what Lucifer wants. It is a weakness to show affection and care to anyone on peering eyes. So even though this is his natural personality, he strengthens this even more on his love interest especially in public. He has to keep his reputation, after all.

- Because of the powerful reputation he has to hold, and because he doesn't want his love interest being seen or them seeing others, and the potential chance they could perish from existence, or get stolen, he will isolate his love interest in his confusing castle w/hallways that stretch for infinity. As much as possible, which is forever. 

- His words are very well said and sweet. Who wouldn't fall for his well-constructed sentences, with fancy lettering and elegant speech?

- (You shouldn't, by the way. This is almost exactly how Satan biblically deceives people :< so please be careful when around Lucifer) 

- Yes, he is the devil Satan himself. There, I said the Unspeakable name. Twice now in this chapter. Fun. Time to die. (Room literally explodes)

- It's unlikely he will fall for anyone. But it's not impossible, so if he does, his love interest is very unlucky and therefore have no escape. They are fated to fall into his hands unless they turn to God and gain His help. If He is unavailable for whatever reasons God has, the love interest is fucked. He will do whatever it takes to get them by his side. (Shown accurately in all endings of Yandere! Alt.Gabriel X Reader, and briefly in 6 X Reader.) One day, as long as he exists, his love interest will eventually end up in his hands and memories erased and manipulated. 

- Don't worry, he desires no children. His body is built asexual, so his body is neither feminine nor male. His love interest could get assaulted but not to the point of taking their virginity away (because he can't physically do that). 

- So to summarize this lengthy thing in a NUTSHELL: Haha, such wonderful relationship! :D Totally non-toxic, healthy, loving!! 

- You should run before he sees you.

- But wait.

- You have nowhere to run.

- Turn to God instead and pray for Him. If not, say goodbye to yourself.

(No reader insert because other people are included in this factor that could possibly be his love interest. Like OCs, you, or other people from any fandom. So you or the OCs or anyone else are referred to as "Love interest" w/ They/Them pronouns)

[ppnuggiex]

　　　　　　OCTATRIO x gn reader

　　　　『　azul ,, jade ,, floyd ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　-> taking interest in their mer form

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, crack ,, vulnerability from jade and azul ,, floyd being a pain in the ass

　　— some headcannons and writing blurbs for octatrio <3 they mean sm to me . might make dating hcs of them but genderswapped ,, or like dating them but theyre girls yknow ? 😭 i stumbled across some oneshots of them as girls on ao3 and now im becoming addicted to fem azul 😿🙏 also made little divider things <3 i kinda like them but they wouldnt become transparent 🤬🤬 so theyre just white n stuff 😞😞 as always enjoy and feel free to request :D

| • getting azul to trust you enough to show his merform took quite a while ,, a lot of patience and reassurance but it was worth it in the end

| • long tentacle arms expanding and curling with himself ,, flexing suction cups and reaching afar to stretch

| • face tinted red ,, glasses covering his eyes as he glanced downwards ,, his lips turned out in a pout as you gazed at his form

| • he was so sure you'd be disgusted ,, tell him never to contact you ever again ,, leaving him there in shambles with his heart broken

| • yet it never happened ,, rather the opposite instead ,, your eyes wide with excitement but voice soft and calm as to not spook azul more than he already was

| • a small " may i ?" with your hands outstretched towards him ,, ready to examine him as much as he'd let you

| • he'd only nod slowly ,, arms curling within himself once again and eyes darting around all over to ensure no one was near to see the sight before him ,, or in case he needed a quick getaway

| • azul is quite touch starved and touch sensitive ,, not used to having someone's hands over him in any sort of form ,, other than in violent means

| • how gentle you treat him ,, as though he were to wither away under your touch ( which he did feel like doing )

| • everything down under his consent ,, and his supervision of course ,, your brain and curiosity end up satiated ,, pressing a small kiss to azul's cheek in thanks for this memory

| • treasuring every touch you can get ,, reassuring azul that he's quite a beauty rather or not he thinks so ,, and last but not least a thank you for allowing this ,, for letting him trust you this much and that you would never break said trust

-

        cool to the touch yet smooth ,, your fingertips roamed over one of his appendages . azul sucked in a breath ,, eyes fixated on your fingers and awaiting for any depricating comments from your lips . though he never expected you to smile and whisper praises to him . " you're quite beautiful , azul ." it was small and short ,, yet it meant a lot to him . " i do absolutely adore the gradation from black to purple here ,, its quite lovely if i say so ." you murmured under your breath ,, eyes raking over his form as you played with the suction cups on the underside of his appendage .

        your eyes glanced back up ,, meeting azul's as they took in every movement of yours . " thank you for this azul ." you whispered ,, hands leaving his tentacle to wrap around his neck as you coddled against him . " i understand how private this is for you ,, how important it is . i really appreciate this azul ,, i'm proud of how far you've gotten ." you whispered against him ,, eyes still holding his as tears welded up in his soft iridescent gaze . his arms slowly wrapped around you ,, chest heaving as he tried to keep his composure around you . yet the more you sung genuine praise ,, the more his heart clenched in his chest and the faster his tears started to roll down his face .

        he allowed himself to bury his face in your neck ,, soft cries being blocked against your skin as your hand rubbed against his back ,, lips pressing kisses to his shoulder as you let him be vulnerable . " its okay azul ,, go ahead and let it out . i'm here for you ,, i promise ." you said ,, feeling his tentacles creep across your skin to wrap themselves around your torso . just this one moment ,, this shared memory of yours ,, he let his walls down and let you in ,, the vulnerability of his current state . your lips pressed another kiss to his shoulder ,, hearing his sobs start to die down as you rest your head against his shoulder .

| • its not often that hes surprised or caught off guard ,, like in this instance for example

| • he has caught your gaze before whenever he happened to be in his more natural form ,, how your eyes would eye him up and down

| • yet you never said a word about it once ,, keeping all your thoughts to yourself ,, all your secrets locked away

| • jade had gotten curious himself ,, curious of what you thought of him in this state ,, though he was never self conscious about it once

| • it didnt bother him whether or not you liked his natural state more than his more humane one ,, it wasnt of his concern to know or need that information

| • and it surely settled that way in his mind ,, at least until he got closer to you until eventually you both ended up together in a relationship

| • he couldnt contain the thoughts clouding his mind ,, it was near impossible to put a lid on them ,, as they would come back in a mere few hours to haunt him again

| • so when you asked to see his merform ,, he was quite ecstatic ,, caught offguard yet it wasnt an ask he would refuse

| • with the two of you in one of octavinelle's pools ,, alone together with jade in the water floating about ,, you on floor of the room with wide eyes and a smile ,, jade contemplated the emotions he felt

| • somewhat vulnerable ,, yet not in a bad way he supposed ,, watching as your eyes gazed all about him before you asked if you could touch him

| • his heart may have fluttered at that ,, but he wouldnt allow you to know that ,, eyes lidded as he swam closer to the edge of the pool and letting you feed your curiosity

-

        your hands reached out to the finals where his ears wear ,, stroking one softly with your thumb as jade laid his head in your lap . " enjoying yourself pearl ?" his sultry voice asked ,, mismatched eyes gazing into your own as he allowed you to fuel your curiosity . " yes ,," was all you could muster out ,, allowing your hands to trail over his scales coating his neck ,, collarbone and dragging down his arms . he was muscular ,, though not as much as jack was . you could still feel the flesh as your fingertips glided alongside his upper arms ,, digging in gently before moving on .

        jade could feel his heart pick up pace slightly ,, eyes widening slightly as your eyes shined ,, enthralled and mesmerized by his luxurious scales . you didnt notice ,, too busy being entranced at the gradation of his scales ,, eyes glazing over little nicks and scars he's gotten over the years .

| • similar to jade ,, hes been in his more natural state around you ,, noticing your staring and has teased you for it before

| • he'll call you out on how rude it is to stare before grabbing you off the ground and dragging you into the pool with a loud giggle

| • " shrimpy's so silly ! if you wanna look or touch ya just gotta ask small fry ,," he'll remark as he rubs his cheek against yours with his long body coiling around you

| • even then it takes you a while to finally ask ,, a gentle night at the beach during sprink break having mustered up enough courage to ask

| • floyd didnt mind ,, enjoying your flustered state as he allowed you to rub your hands on his scales

| • who knows he may try to get you to itch a spot for him that he cant reach ,, or splash water onto your face with his tail

| • he'll laugh as you grumble about ,, trying to wipe the water away only to be met with even more water ,, this time using his hands instead of his tail

| • when joining him in the water you have to be careful of what you do ,, after all if you do try to run from his grip he'll only take it as indication that you wanna play chase

| • like a snake he'll slither within the water ,, hands reaching out to grab at you and pull you close to him

| • on days he happens to be more chill for the time being he lets you gaze all over ,, not bothering to call you out on your obsessive staring

| • its moments like these that you can observe floyd in his beauty ,, rather than trying to escape it

-

        " floyd !" you grumbled as he splashed water at your face ,, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut . " for five seconds can you not splash me ?" you asked. he could only shrug ,, dorky smile on his face . " shouldn't have been starin' ,," is all he'll say ,, waiting for you to open your eyes only to splash you again . at that moment ,, you didnt care anymore and lunged forward at him ,, arms wrapping around his neck as you tried to splash water into his face as payback .

         unfortunately for you ,, he'd already dived underwater and dragged you along with him without warning . when you let go and resurface ,, he's at the other end of pool laughing at your flailing arms . " for one minute can i admire you ?!" you huffed ,, glaring over in his general direction as you swam towards the ledge of the pool . it doesn't take long until hes coming up right behind you ,, grabbing at your waist and bringing you back to him . " all you had to do was ask shrimpy ." he'll say as he floats along his back ,, you ontop of him and in his arms as he lets you look him over with adoration in your eyes .

[dirtytransmasc]

~ Mother Flower — Spider and Sa'syul in grief ~

Spider and Neteyam's ikran grieve their loss together.

Her name is Sa'syul. "Sa" taken from Sa'nok, or mother. "Syul" taken from Syulang, or flower. Name Translation: Mother Flower.

Spider has lost his baby brother, Sa'syul has lost her fledgling, both are everyone's last thoughts in terms of grief, and both seek each other to soothe the pain.

Note: in canon, according to the wiki, Neteyam's ikran is male, but idc about that, I think Eywa would have given Neteyam an older, motherly, female ikran to watch over him and act as a second mother and he would have loved her.

↓↓↓ fic below ↓↓↓

They're both grieving. They're both missing a piece of themselves. Their boy' gone. His baby brother, her perfect little hatchling. Taken by war, never to return.

Sa'syul had stopped eating. She couldn't bring herself to do it, to go out and hunt, couldn't find it in herself to soar the skies or touch the water or weave the odd mangrove forest. Grief consumed her in her seclusion to the dark of the trees, away from everyone else. All but one boy. The human boy. Spider.

Her boy had loved him, missed him, and wanted things to be better. He had been scared to try and approach him after years of being distant. He wanted to fix it, but didn't know how. Now he never would.

Spider found solace in the forest. He had to be strong for his siblings, not wanting his grief to weigh on them, and wouldn't dare mourn in front of Neytiri or the similarly mourning village, he didn't have the right to.

So he went to the forest to be alone, to scream and cry and hit things to try and make the ache in his chest go away. It never did. it just consumed him, like it did Sa'syul, draining him of energy and will and life.

Both hid away in the forest to keen and starve and wallow.

Neither knew what to do with him gone. How was life meant to continue? How were they meant to keep living? How does one live without her bonded? Her fledgling? What about his baby brother?

It all seemed so impossible. How could they just move on as if he was still here?

She watches him, watches him cry, watches him curl into the hollows of trees and sob, watches him punch at the ground and the rocks and the trees till his knuckles bleed.

He had listened to her mourning songs, her grief filled cries, her agonized calls to the sea, calling for her little hatchling to come back to her, to rise from the waves. He watched the skies to see if she would go out and hunt, but she never did, not once since he had returned to his siblings.

They pity one another. It's impossible not to. Both are withering away. Both are alone. No one hears them.

Until one day, the human boy doesn't come to the forest.

Sa'syul didn't hear him crying as usual, she didn't see him curled up in a hollow, didn't smell the blood from his battered fists in the air.

So she goes looking, wanting to know where he has gone? Why was he not here, with her, in the forest, their place of grief and solace?

She finds him lying in the sandy grass, just on the outskirts of the village, basking in the sun, hands mindlessly petting at the grass beneath him, not caring for his risky choice of a resting place.

He hears the rustling of brush and branches from the forest. Part of him hesitates to turn and look at the potential threat, willing to chance fate, but ultimately he knows better, and shifts his head to look at what's watching him from the treeline.

He sees Sa'syul, truly, for the first time in months. He'd caught glimpses of her in the forest, but never sought to look at the hiding creature. He respected her wishes. She would remain hidden from his eyes if that's what she wished.

The last time he'd actually seen her was when he helped Lo'ak tend the ikran after the last raid. Neteyam couldn't do it because he was being tended to. She had preened his hair a bit when he scratched where her harness had been.

Now she was a pitiful sight, coming out of a fortnight long seclusion. Her figure was weak and thinning, eyes sad, posture tired and shaky.

Withered was the right word for her.

Despite this, she's quick to approach him, shuffling forward on her foreclaws, coming beside him without hesitation, nosing at him with her beak, and sniffing him gently, chirping as she inspects him for injury. When she finds him uninjured, outside of the scabbed wound on his chest, she calls to him, wanting him to follow her.

She wants him to go back into the forest, but he doesn't move. She nudges his leg harder, then his side, trying to force him to sit up. When he doesn't, she gets worried and frustrated. This is what her hatchling's body had been like when she saw him for the last time. She knows this boy isn't dead, not like her Neteyam, but why would he get up?

He's not sure what he's meant to do as she stares at him, clicking at him like he was a chick. He shifts ever so slightly so he can lie firmly on his back, a vulnerable position, but one that is solid and secure. He won't risk any sudden moves, especially as he cries and touches become more and more desperate.

After that, he doesn't move a muscle, trying to avoid her eyes, but not closing his own, not wanting to disrespect and anger her, but he won't show weakness either.

When he doesn't move, she decides to settle into the grass with him, unable to hold herself up any longer and giving into his wishes. Maybe the boy just needed time. Maybe he was exhausted like her and couldn't find it in himself to move. Maybe he just needed to see that it was safe.

But she does the unexpected, at least in Spider's opinion. She rests her head against him, rubbing against his shoulder and chin before laying her beak over his chest and arm, careful of the wound there, her wings spreading to soak up the warmth of the sun.

She keens once more. The warmth reminds her of flying. She remembers she will never fly with her boy again. It hurts.

Spider is awe struck. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't even know what to feel. He'd come here for a cry, not having the energy to climb through the brush or up into the trees

— Or the dirty looks every time he came back. No one trusted him, always questioned what he was doing in those hours he spent hidden away —

So he had slumped into the grass and tried to convince himself this was all a bad dream and he had just fallen asleep in the forest, back home, and he would wake up and head back to the village and find all four of his siblings alive and well.

And now he had his baby brother's mourning ikran lying on his chest. He doesn't know what he should do, if he should say something, if one wrong move will get him killed.

Sure he had worked with her before and she seemed to like him, this was different than taking her tack off, she was grieving and starving and who knew how she would react to him.

Ikran were flighty creatures on the best of days and this was not the best of days, so he was erring on the side of caution.

What was she even doing here? With him of all people? He had no idea, but listening to the cries she let out caused something in his chest to well up.

He recognizes them.

He understood them.

If there was one thing he understood about this situation, it was her cries.

They were cries of agony, of longing, of grief and mourning. They were screams of a pain so deep you think it must be killing you.

As her calls reverberated through his chest, they felt like all the ones he had cried himself. She missed him, and he did too.

He can't help the tears that gather in his eyes or the sobs that barrel out of his chest. They're silent at first, part of him terrified to mourn out in the open, but the flood gates open as she begins to keen along with him, agonized sounds leaving her as she slumps into her more and more, clearly exhausted, and silent sobs turn to wails.

He finally moved to sit up, trying to escape the head rush and weight on his chest, taking her with him as he did so, shifting her so her head lay in his lap. She coos at him a bit as she nuzzles into his lap, accepting the change with ease.

He rubs a hand over her beak, up over her forehead, down her neck, and under the edges of her riding saddle — Neteyam never got a chance to take it off, he never would ever again, and no one could get close to her after the funeral. So there it had stayed — scratching at the itch that surely lingered there.

"I miss him too, I miss him so much Sa'syul," he sobbed, peering down into his lap, into her eye, fingers reacting the patterns that danced on her skin, "I want him, I want him to come back, I want this all to be a bad dream"

She cries up to him, lifting her head to nudge her beak into her chin and then his cheek, wiping the tears away, wings fluttering with emotion, tail shifting where it laid on the ground.

"Why did he have to come and save my dumb ass? I would have been fine! I would have gotten out on my own and he would still be here..... it's all my fault," he rubs a hand at his face, a realization hitting him like a train, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. He should be here with you... not me."

The second the words fell from his mouth, she snapped her strong jaw at him, not nipping him, but the sound alone shocked him. She sat up from where she lay in his lap, not straying far, but rising to look him in the eye.

She couldn't speak, but she didn't have to. He bowed his head in respect. He didn't agree with her thinking, but didn't make it known.

Before he can even look up, she's nuzzling him again, breathing warm air out of her vents, bringing her wings in front of her, as if to comfort him and cradle him in her arms. He settles into her chest, letting the tears fall and his heart ache. She does the same. But not being alone makes it feel less all consuming.

As they fall apart in each other's presence, Neytiri will catch a glimpse of them, her first born’s ikran wrapped around the demon's child. She watches as Spider cries into Sa'syul's chest, and listens to the ikrans own cries. A deep feeling of dread forms in her chest. Was it anger? Guilt? Grief? Something else entirely? She wasn't sure.

She just knew she hated seeing them that close, hated seeing how he pet at her head and the bases of her kuru's, feeling that the child should not be anywhere near her son's ikran, should not encroach on that scared bond, should not be taking her son's place… yet, she saw the way Sa’syul clung to the boy, the first person she had approached since being shown Neteyam's body, and she knew that the ikran needed this just as much as the boy did.

She would be cruel to tear them apart, and she should probably feel guilty for even thinking about it, for the way she's treated Spider, so poorly he refuses to grieve in her presence, bottling it up until he can disappear.

She doesn't move to stop them. And when Spider comes back to the mauri hours later smelling of ikran, she says nothing.

After that day, Spider will go hunting for Sa’syul, bringing her baskets of fish and fruits, sometimes meat if he can find something good in the strange mangrove forests he's learning to hunt in. They would sit in the sun at the forest line, leaning into one another, sharing their feast with one another. She'd have her fair share of preening him, nibbling at his salt soaked locs and peeling shoulder, and he'd give her a good rub down, loving on her as much as he could.

They'd even play fight now and then, whether it be a spur of the moment event or a fight over the last piece of fruit it didn't matter. It made them smile.

And te words and calls and songs that would be passed between them were their own little secret, they understood things no one else could, in ways no one else could. They may not share the same language, but they saw each other, and that's all that mattered.

Spider would never be Neteyam, would never be her hatchling, or her bonded, not like her boy had been. But he was a hatchling and he had no one else and he understood her so she would watch out for him. She would love him and care for him and keep him safe, because that's what her boy would have wanted.

And being alone was much worse than being with him. He was good and kind and golden and so much like her boy. He never pushed her or tried to bond with her in anything more than quiet companionship. He brought her treats and scratched all the right places and would cheer when she took to the skies once more. It was like a balm to her aching heart.

and he loved her. She was a warm, calm, wise presence. She did not care that he was human. He respected her and she respected him. she would preen him and he would preen her. Soon they would hunt together in the forest. For once things were a two way street. It was nice.

They made it work. They made the grief tolerable.

[museofthepyre]

Im gonna ramble about Jedidiah and Sydney. Bear with me. This is a queer platonic sydidiah advocacy post.

The sydidiah dating arc feels so doomed to me and that impending doom casts a massive shadow over any nice sweet moments we have gotten/ might get… it’s so heart wrenching and devious from a writing standpoint /pos

Sydney and Jedidiah are like two trees who were planted too close together, not even of the same species. They’ve grown in sync, twisting together and fusing while the bark was still soft, weaving around each other until they’d become inseparable. Two separate trunks become one messily intertwined form, and they brace each other’s weight— if you cut one base, the other would topple. And yet they can’t survive together… they strain their branches upwards to compete for the same sunlight, every time one forms a sufficient canopy of leaves, the other ends up cast in the consequent shadow. One is always in the shade where it’ll starve, where it’ll wither, where it’ll deteriorate and take the other down with it when it falls.

And their attachment styles are so opposite from what we’ve seen… (My analysis here, some inference)

Sydney understands love as presence and affirmation and re-assuring words and touch, he needs a hand to hold like a ship needs an anchor, otherwise he’s just left to drift at the mercy of his own insecure mind. He talks about wanting something equal, I think a lot of that has to do with emotional vulnerability— he’s spent so long in a relationship where he’s an emotional mess in ways he can’t control, meanwhile Jedidiah is so… reserved. The contrast would make anyone feel burdensome, othered, isolated… even in a relationship that is loving deep down. I think so much of their poor communication/ secret keeping comes down to Sydney feeling like he’s being “too much”, or disproportionately emotional, which… is true, there is an imbalance, but it’s not Sydney’s fault. “I used to talk to Jedidiah about everything, but… I mean, he’s not just an endless well of support for me to dump all my issues into. Your friends shouldn’t have to play therapist for you, right? So I don’t really need to make him listen to all my bullshit anymore.”

Jedidiah understands love as the knowledge that someone is working behind the scenes to keep you steady, that they’re carving out a space for you to find respite in… wether you see them doing it or not. That’s what his parents did for him, that’s what he does for Sydney. He doesn’t want to get too close to the things he loves, because he fears he’ll only hurt them. He regards Sydney like an old childhood stuffed toy that he’s afraid to pick up and sleep with, it’s so precious and irreplaceable that he doesn’t want to risk damaging it… and so he holds it for only long enough to put it on a shelf for safekeeping… maybe brush the dust off once in a while.

They both need to seriously seriously SERIOUSLY a work on their communication if they want any hope of being healthy together— even if just as friends. Jedidiah needs to work on his emotional vulnerability, and Sydney needs to work on his self-assuredness… bro is the poster child of anxious attachment. And Jedidiah is the poster child of avoidant attachment. What a duo we have here! Idk they make me sad.

[chernabogs]

on  lonely  nights  i  stare  into  the  trees,  and  a  strange  face  leers  back. for crowley?

LAPSES

Inc: Dire Crowley, Reader/Prefect Warnings: Brief allusion to death, implications of hallucinations, wee bit of manipulation WC: 1.9k Summary: Prefect is not the only one to have slipped in dimensions—although, arguably, they're handling it a lot better then him.

When you slip, you don’t realize until you’re already passed through, and by then it’s often too late to hope for a return. 

He wonders vaguely, when the dust finally settles and the initial uproar dampens to a murmur, if your experience is akin to his. You seem far brighter eyed and enthused then he was when he woke. But then again, you actually arrived in a world—he had arrived by a fence. 

It had been long, vanishing into mist that never seemed to fade, and beyond that was a tree line with trunks that did little to hide the blackness beyond them. The sky had been ever grey and there was never a night or day—it simply, and eternally, was. 

During that time, he had been someone else. Fine silks had kissed his skin beneath his armour, and he had held onto hope in his heart of a woman and a child he had yet to meet just beyond the mists. Sometimes he could almost hear their voices beckoning him, just a few steps further. just a few more. 

But over time, silk had eroded, and armour had been torn off, and a sense of nothing but a bone-deep and endless need had begun to chew through his being. The voices he heard had faded to a low groaning in his head and each step along that fence line had erased the identity of who he had been to be replaced by what he is—starving. He forgot the men he arrived with—they had long since withered to bones beneath the soft soil he stumbled on. Yet even in their absence, even in their memory, he still hungered for more, his nails scraping along soft wood until they tore off to bleeding, fleshy lumps. There was a reason he wore claws on his hands.  

This is beside the point. 

When the mirror had said you had no place to return to, a strange sense of elation had settled in his heart. For so long since he had been reborn into this world—dragging himself out of the black ichor of an endless lake and sobbing at the dim stars above—he had been recollecting his psyche to find a purpose. Perhaps he was simply meant to wait for you. Home was not home, and he was no longer royal but perhaps with you he could finally locate the end of that fucking fence. He could do that at least.

Still beside the point, though. 

“Head mage?” Your voice snaps him out of his rumination as he looks towards the door of the office. You’re standing, half-shrouded in shadows, a frown dancing on your lips. The absence of your companions is painfully notable by the absence of chaos around you. Crowley forces his lips to twist into a charming smile as he twists in his chair to face you.

“Prefect! Whatever brings you to my door?” He hums as he beckons for you to enter, feeling a sense of amusement when you finally sidle your way in. You leave the door partially ajar as you sink in the plush chair across from him with a low sigh. He subtly pushes a jar of caramel candies towards you as he retains his cheery demeanour. 

“I wanted to give you somewhat of an update on my… situation.” Your voice is hesitant as you accept one of the candies, unwrapping it before popping it into your mouth. The face you pull is peculiar, like you’re experiencing something you’ve had before but only in the vaguest of notions, before you shake your head and continue. “Ortho thinks he’s found a way to get me home.” 

The news brings him to an abrupt pause that he tries to mask by staring down at papers scattered on his desk. He can feel the click of his jaw clenching as his smile becomes a touch more strained.

What. 

It takes a second, really, for the words you just spoke to process in his mind. He had long been under the impression that the only way to get back to your original world is by two options: a) you hope another rift occurs that will coincidentally drop you back into the right world at the right time with no consequence, or b) you die. He has drawn this conclusion simply because these are the two things that he personally experienced. The fence had never ended, the sun had never risen—until one moment he was walking, and the next he was drowning.

He didn’t need to elaborate on the death portion. He had heard his companions drop one by one as he had stubbornly continued to walk forward, driven either by his own budding madness or the painful desperation of promises yet to be fulfilled. In a sense, this was the moment where his dream of redefining the world to a perfect state had been born. 

And now here you were, telling him that there’s always been a third option to get home—he was just never offered it. 

“Crowley?” You lean forward in your seat a little as Crowley fights back something black and foul that threatens to erupt from his mouth in a volley of language he has never used in front of others before. “Are you okay? You’re spacing out a little.” 

“Am I?” Crowley’s attention snaps back up as he straightens in his seat, his golden claws pushing the papers around to make it seem like this was what he was preoccupied with. “Goodness, my apologies, Prefect! You must understand that I’m an impossibly busy man.” 

He pours an excess of saccharine sweetness into his words as he watches you settle back against your chair in relief. “This doesn’t mean you don’t have my attention, of course. What has young Shroud promised you?” 

“Ortho said that there might be a way for me to return through the mirrors. We started to work on it, until the whole incident with Malleus happened, and… well.” Your voice trails off as you grimace. Yes, the incident with Draconia had set everything back quite a fair amount. It had been a long time since Crowley had seen such a display of righteous fury. If he was a poet, he might have written ballads describing the terror that the young prince sewed so expertly into the hearts of those present in the Diasomnia dorm. But he wasn’t a poet, and it had been so long since he’d seen something so dangerously powerful that the ability to string words had left him. 

But again, he digresses. 

“Yes, Draconia’s incident most certainly set us all back a fair amount.” Crowley’s fingers dance to the drawer by his desk as he pulls it open, glancing sparingly at the array of missives he had yet to respond to from various municipalities. One thing he didn’t miss was the way a government is so quick to scramble for a safety net any time something unprecedented occurs. They all wanted reassurances that Malleus would not be a hazard at NRC. He has no doubt that his grandmother is likely being plagued with similar locusts. 

He slams the drawer shut with enough force that it makes you jump before he affixes another smile. “I’m assuming you’re back on your search, though?” 

“Yeah. I just wanted to come and see if you had a key for the older section of the library. Ortho thinks that this might all be primordial magic we’re working with, so he doubts that there will be any records online. We’ll have to do the old fashion style of searching.” You smile at that, a look that holds optimism in its seams, and it serves to stir Crowley’s ire further. Not that he shows this, of course. But your frequent interruptions to try and find your way out have been starting to cause more than a few shakes to his foundations. 

“Is that so?” Crowley languidly tugs the key ring free from his belt and flicks through the various golden tokens. He hums, and he haws, and then clicks his tongue with disappointment as he sets the key ring down. “My apologies, Prefect, but it appears that I don’t have the key on my person. I’ll certainly check for it around the office—but first I have a few things I need to get done.” 

Your smile falters for a moment and he can spot a flash of frustration in your eyes. This thrills him. He likes seeing that frustration, that anger, because these are precisely the same feelings he went through when he was in your position. The mask he wears to cover half of his face begins to make his skin feel irritated beneath its porcelain surface, and he wishes to rip it off and let you see the face of a man who went through three hundred odd years of isolation before making his return. 

Not that it would matter to you. You wouldn’t recognize him for who he is. The only people who can recognize him are far apart; one, alone in a palace, and the other slowly dying in a bedroom. 

“Okay, thank you.” Your abrupt comment draws his attention back in again as you stand up, pushing in the chair before offering him a brief nod. “Hope your work doesn’t bog you down too much.” 

“Oh, you’re far too kind.” Crowley hums back with a little wave as you depart from his office. As soon as the door shuts, he wrenches the mask off his face and slumps back in his chair with a hiss. Masks upon masks—that’s all he ever seems to wear, and it weighs on him as he twists his chair around to look out the window. The faces of the seven peer down at him in disappointment, and he can feel the burning glare of the Thorn Witch the most among them. He admires the Seven—idolizes them, even—but this doesn’t mean that he’ll let himself feel akin to a child scolded. 

He diligently ignores them as his attention is drawn to the tree line beyond the main building's borders. The pines are tall and thick trunked, all of which do little to hide the blackness beyond them. The sky above is dark with the coming dusk, and a brown fence seems to stretch endlessly along the edges of those woods. Crowley’s sharp nail accessories tap together as he ruminates on your comments while the edges of his vision begin to darken. A dark curl of hair falls on his forehead and his thin lips twitch into a grimace. 

Sometimes when he sits in this chair in the silence of his office, he can see them leering back from the treeline, hand-carved masks still on their faces and armour hugging their ragged bodies. It’s a stark reminder of what he’s trying to prevent, what he’s trying to rectify in himself and in his desire to fix this world. 

Crowley averts his gaze and twists back to stare at the papers strewn on his desk. The key ring glints as lamps on his wall flicker to life, catching off the metal, including that of the key he told you he didn’t have. He moves to reattach the ring to his belt buckle without further thought. 

Despite you being an unexpected addition, you were proving your use in many ways. He wasn’t quite ready to let you find a way home yet. After all, in his mind, the end of that ever-stretching fence had yet to be found, and he had some flaws in this world to rectify.

[please-be-mine-forever]

Bound to Falling in Love

(Rody x Vince) (Dead Plate)

A/N: I wanted to make something lighthearted, my intention was to write a "Touch Starved but Affectionate Boyfriend x Partner, who hates being touched"

I'm still planning on writing something with the same dialogue expect make it darker, but for now— have something bittersweet.

His thumb brushed against the crumpled polaroid , the picture had been clumsily stuffed into his pockets numerous times. It was an image of him with Vince on his side; a grimace ever so obvious, a deep frown on his face— glaring at him for disrupting his work.

Rody lets out a small laugh, this was taken during his first month working at the bistro. Vince never smiled that much outside from his professional line of work, he'd show a charismatic smile in those newspaper clippings but he could tell Vince’s smile was stiff.

Speaking of the devil, his boyfriend stepped into their shared apartment. His perfect posture gone as he abruptly slouched his shoulders, the weight of the day's stress evident in the tension that radiated from his every step

The old polaroid now placed on the nightstand.

He only kept that formal and well mannered facade when eyes watched him, Rody knew how much his partner cared deeply for his reputation, even more than death.

“Evening handsome, rough time at work?” The brunette’s tone was soft, no longer brash or rowdy— just gentle. If you listened closely, there was a slight firmness to his tone as if his gentleness felt forced.

“Mhm.” Vince's only response was a weary sigh as he made his way to the couch, collapsing into it with a heavy thud. Rody's heart ached at the sight of his partner so exhausted, but he refused to be deterred and followed Vince like a lost puppy.

His eyes seemed to have withered under the strain of his responsibilities, leaving behind a man consumed by his own inner turmoil.

“By the looks of it, it does seem like a rough day.” The brunette showed a warm smile, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort. Though with the way how Vince looked at him— It felt like he was talking to a brick wall.

The tan skinned man sat next to Vince, he slowly moved closer to him but noticed his lover, straying a bit further away from him. Oh how Rody wished that Vince would lay his head on his shoulder instead of the pillow.

Vince’s pale hand clutched the pillow tightly, a hint of vulnerability showed in his blank demeanor for a second.

Rody approached cautiously and reached out to hold his hand. But as his fingers brushed against Vince's, the reaction was immediate and sharp.

"Don't," Vince muttered, attempting to slap Rody's hand away, his fear of touch manifesting in the harshness of his actions.

But Rody held on, his grip firm yet gentle, refusing to let go. He still kept on persisting.

"Why'd you stay with me for so long?" Vince's voice was barely a whisper, filled with confusion and a touch of bitterness. He preferred to be blunt.

"Because I love you" Rody replied, his affection had always been sincere, never the type to lie about his affection as well.

His voice unwavering and he played around with Vince's fingers, intertwining them together.

To Vince, when people say a word too much or too often, it cheapens the meaning.

“I—I loved you enough to let you tear me into pieces.” Rody’s tone wasn't one out of desperation nor infatuation, rather it sounded like someone that endured hardships, one who's tone sacrificed so much to fight for the ones he loved even when he had to go through immense pain.

Vince, upon hearing that, could only hold his head down low in shame.

The amount of times the two fought, felt meaningless now. Excruciatingly long years spent building bonds and reluctantly given trust— was all lost under a fit of rage.

It was always Rody that would reconcile to Vince, asking for forgiveness and he always let his pride get to him.

He brought Vince's hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his own heart beneath it. “And I loved you enough that I was willing to let all your mistakes be ignored even when it kept me awake at night…”

"Why?" His dark eyes softened, a flicker of emotion breaking through his hardened exterior.

Rody had nights where he laid awake, staring at his lover's resting face. Their faces were a few inches apart, and he would keep looking at Vince's peaceful expression, trying to match his breathing pattern. It calmed him down, made him feel closer to Vince in a way that words could never capture.

He would watch the gentle rise and fall of Vince’s chest, the way his lashes fluttered slightly with his dreams. Rody wondered when Vince would look at him like that, with calmness, with such a rested expression. The sight brought a strange mixture of comfort and longing. Comfort, because he could be near the person he loved most; longing, because he wished Vince could find the same peace in their love that he did.

He pondered, would Vince ever look at him so calmly when awake?

The man shook his head gently, his other hand slowly reaching up to touch Vince's cheek. "I loved you even when I felt like I was losing myself.”

A pained expression crossed Vince's face as he whispered, "I'm sorry."

Silence hung between them, the weight of Rody's words settling over Vince like a heavy blanket. In that silence, the pale man thought about all the ways he had failed his lover, all the times his actions had caused pain rather than joy.

He didn’t want to lose Rody, nor did he want Rody to bear the burden of their relationship alone.

Vince leaned into Rody's touch, his eyes closing as he absorbed the warmth and reassurance that radiated from his partner. "I don't deserve you" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Rody's smile was soft and filled with unconditional love. "You deserve to be loved, Vince. And I'm here, always."

He placed a soft kiss on Vince’s forehead, Rody was gentle with his actions.

"And I loved you even when I constantly questioned myself why I'm still staying with you," Rody finished, his hand cupping Vince's cheek tenderly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

Vince sat there rigid, the feeling of his warm lips lingered on his skin, his body feeling overwhelmed, instinctively flinched at the initial touch.

The idea of being vulnerable, of letting someone in so intimately, was foreign and uncomfortable for him. He had built walls around his heart for so long that the simple act of a hug felt almost foreign.

Rody, sensing Vince's hesitation, moved slowly, his hand moving away from his cheeks. He didn't force the embrace but instead offered it, letting Vince decide whether to accept it fully or not

For a moment, Vince remained stiff, his muscles tense as if he were bracing for impact. His mind raced with doubts and fears, but he had to take a chance-?

Slowly, Vince's defenses began to crumble. His arms, initially hanging awkwardly at his sides, moved to encircle Rody's waist. The touch was hesitant at first, Vince unaware how to even hold his own lover.

Vince was still scared to hold his arms around Rody; embracing him and though his actions were meticulously slow, the way he moved his arms to wrap around Rody’s waist was quite slow, matching the pace of a snail.

He felt the steady, calming presence of Rody's heartbeat against his chest. It was a rhythm that spoke of acceptance, a reminder that he wouldn't be rushed, that Rody wouldn't force him to deal with his ‘issue’ quickly.

Gradually, Vince's grip tightened, his fingers curling into the fabric of Rody's shirt.

Vince buried his face into the crook of Rody's neck, his breath warm and shaky against his tan skin. The reluctance was still there, a lingering doubt that gnawed at the edges of his mind, but the comfort of Rody's embrace began to soothe the turmoil within him.

Rody held him patiently once more, his hands gently rubbing Vince's back in slow, reassuring circles. He could feel the tension slowly ebbing away from Vince's body, replaced by a tentative acceptance of the intimacy they were sharing.

He was careful with his touches, or where he even touched the man— avoiding places where Vince felt the most discomfort.

As Vince finally allowed himself to melt into the hug, streams of tears escaped his tightly shut eyes, tracing a path down his cheek. He clung to Rody as if afraid he might disappear, finding solace in the warmth and safety of his partner's arms. It was a reluctant surrender, but a surrender nonetheless, and in that embrace, Vince began to realize that maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to face everything alone.

There was still a part of him that disliked being touched, a part of him that would flinch at the faintest of touch but he wanted to still try, he wanted to embrace Rody in his arms, just this once.

[sinligh]

I’m soft spoken,

In a way that contrasts my sharp teeth and my pointed corners.

Unapproachable, unapologetic yet, open and falling apart at the seams

Fierce, and guarded with expectations that are as high as my walls, the same walls I spend my days painting the colors of all the flowers I have never received.

Lavender to grey Girlhood to decay

I yearn for things that will wither if I dare to embrace and my moral compass is almost always out of my hands reach. I exchange a piece of it for every new defense mechanism i pick up, and I regret nothing…

not even my tongue that is still stuck in my windpipe because in my hast to run away from spotlight I forgot to tuck it right.

I hold on to ghosts of sentiments that i let filter through me

I, a distant soul that walk through earth aimlessly.

I linger but my traces refuse to hold I don’t get close because i can’t afford being left behind, I dwindle, but i don’t let anyone touch me because being starved taught me that we don’t need to overanalyze the intentions behind every touch; we just need to prevent ourselves from getting hurt.

It’s a collective we, because I learned to stand behind a wall of who I’m supposed to be.

Even if I do it inadequately.

I’m hypersensitive, yet i’d rather shed my own skin than cling to unwanted love that have no potential for growth.

I’m lovable, that much I know

but I don’t believe in falling, It’s not that I don’t want to believe in an unadulterated emotion..

but however I look at at love. it seems fabricated

So now, i only want it with a pre-negotiated price.

With a clear definition and stable steps that I can take one at a time.

That’s how it goes for kindnesses too, as something in me believes that we need to earn it.

Maybe it’s the part of me that i inherited from my mother,

the same part that is still searching for ways to sacrifice more, otherwise we’re selfish.

•••

•Quotes:Louis Tomlinson/Roland Barthes/ Taylor Swift/Meggie C. Royer/ Nikki Giovanni/ Helene Cixous/ Margaret Atwood/ Sylvia Plath/ Anaïs Nin

•Original context: Sinligh

•Art references:

1.Playing Games With Paranoia by Guillermo Lorca (details). 2. Art by: John William Godward (details). 3.Art by: by Ivan Olinsky (details). 4.The wave by Guillaume Seignac (details). 5.Art by: Edward Hopper's (details). 6. The Repentant Mary Magdalene by Francesco Hayez. (Details).

[nikethestatue]

Why 3 x 3?

A bit of a wacky tobaccy theory, but hear me out.

What if the (oh so cliche) bat boys were paired with the Archeron girls not only because of mate bonds and whatnot, but because the men activate and sustain the girls' magic?

What do we know so far?

Tamlin refused to train the newly-Fae Feyre in her magic. While Rhys kept insisting that she needs to be trainer. He went to so far as to say that not using your magic can drive you insane. He had to do small magicks in order to siphon some of it off himself.

Now, remember how depressed and mentally and physically sick Feyre was after she was brought back. She was withering in front of everyone's eyes. And she wasn't being trained at all by Tamlin.

Once Rhys began to challenge her and make her do small magical exercises, she began to revert to something new: healthy, more confident, and eventually powerful. She mastered and sustained her magic, eventually being powerful enough to heal the Cauldron itself (it didn't end well, but nevertheless, her power is immense).

Let's talk Nesta--basically, a similar situation as Feyre. Mentally and physically completely wiped out. Extremely depressed, barely functioning, and definitely not using her powers. In fact, she found her power something grotesque and unnatural.

Enter Cassian. Yes, he begins to physically work out with, dealing with her body first (I mean, in many various ways, but let's just talk about their work outs and her lactic acid buildup!), because that's what he does--he is a soldier, a warrior, and his strength is his power. Cassian had said many times that he doesn't really posses any magic outside of his siphons. But what does he do? He takes Nesta to the blacksmith. He (Cassian) lacking in magic, doesn't actually teach or show Nesta anything magical. What what he did was he, like Rhys with Feyre, presented her with an avenue to explore and exercise her magic. And she creates Ataraxia. A magical sword, that becomes both her teacher and her companion and her student, as well as the ultimate extension of her magic. Cassian also helps and supports Nesta is scrying, which, yet again, allows her to release the horrendous magnitude of her magic and with the finding of the trove objects, she begins to wield it, and grow into it. The HOFAS Nesta is very different (magically) from the ACOSF Nesta.

Lastly, we have Elain. Oh look! it's a pattern! Elain is extremely depressed, after being Made. She is starving, she is mumbling to herself, she is almost catatonic.

Enter Azriel. Of course Elain is not using her magic, and no one even understands what it is and how it manifests. But he--equipped with the language and raw magic of the shadows--he understands what is 'wrong' with her. He is the one who names her magic--Sight. She was made a Seer. And virtually as soon as Elain starts to use her magic, as soon as she is able to voice her visions, she begins to feel better. It was a gradual process just like with her sisters, but by the time Azriel handed her Truth Teller, another part of HIS magic, which also became hers, she was coherent and strong enough to use the shadows of the knife, walk across the battlefield and thrust it into the king's neck. By the time the war was over, Elain, who'd used her magic earlier than Nesta, was in a much better shape, and she announced that she'd like to build and grow more gardens. (I am not even touching 'the world needs more gardens!' right now, in light of HOFAS).

Rhys's greatest power is his magic, and that's what he begins to teach Feyre as soon as possible. His power in almost infinite, but so is hers, and together, they are able to reforge the Cauldron and win the War.

Cassian's power is his physicality and his ability as a warrior. That's what he begins to teach Nesta as soon as he is able. He then, leads her to the thing that becomes her outlet and the thing that allows her to create her great weapon, which now became the extension of her power.

Azriel's power is his unique shadowsinging abilities--he can see and hear what no one else can, as well as hide in plain sight. An extension of his power is Truth Teller--a mysterious Made weapon that he didn't allow anyone to touch. What does he do with Elain?--he realises that she is a Seer (giving her the 'Sight' that she didn't know she had). Down the road, he also offers her Truth Teller, as another avenue to use her Made gifts--the power to handle a Made weapon.

I think the batboys were created for the Archeron girls. Not just as mates, not just as lovers, and not only as someone similar in powers to them. I think they were the 'keys' to unlock the powers of the Archeron sisters. They are also the sustainers of that power. Without them, the sisters would've perished under the burden of their magic.

I think that that aligns well with the fact that both Hunt and Rowan served a similar role for Aelin and Bryce respectively. They unlocked the wells of power and insane levels of their girls' magic, but also 'regulated' it. Without them, the magic would've consumed all of the woman--Aelin, Feyre, Byrce, Nesta and Elain.

Three and three is not a 'cliche'. It's a pattern that stretches across all of SJM's series. I think that the men, who are all significantly older than the women, were created first, and given all that time to learn and manage their power and their magic. By the time the girls arrived, the order was established and ready to receive them and help them. The women always lead, and are more powerful than the men. But the men are needed to activate and guide their mates' powers.

[rogueddie]

Vampire Eddie, Steddie Fic Rec List!!!

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🦇

soundtrack of our summer (side a)

hawkeyedkoi

For over six months, after Hawkins and the Upside Down merge, Steve Harrington is plagued by nightmares. Vines choking him, Eddie dying, and a host of other nighttime horrors. It all changes one night in October 1986 when, instead of the Creel House or the trailer park, Steve dreams about a warm spring day at Skull Rock featuring one very familiar metalhead.

Sure, his subconscious' version of Eddie Munson makes some weird comments about being alive in the Upside Down sometimes, but that's just his brain's way of coping with Eddie's death ... Right?

Words : 100,042 Chapters : 11/11 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

Obey

Wrenegade (Wrenegadeone)

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t stop the fact that Eddie–,” Steve threw a hand out, gesturing to Eddie and ignoring the indignant look on Eddie’s face, “--wants to eat me,” Steve’s hand was back at himself, gesturing to his throat with dramatic emphasis.

“Just a little bit,” Eddie found himself saying while making a pinching motion, if only because part of him particularly enjoyed getting a rise out of Steve if given the opportunity.

Words : 65,042  Chapters : 17/17  Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Feral

TheDeathsWish

Eddie has turned a bit… feral after coming back to life. It’s understandable, what with the whole being a vampire thing.

What Steve doesn’t expect is the gifts he keeps finding everywhere.

Words : 10,970 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

Hunger

Ash_Fountain

When a traumatic truth is revealed at a metal concert in Chicago, Steve decides to reveal his own secret to a distraught Eddie sparking a unique relationship.

Words : 33,265 Chapters : 8/8 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

You're Divine

OonionChiver

Eddie can’t seem to look away, can’t bring his ethereal gaze back up where it belongs. Steve thinks he should run, he should flee. A tiny part of him knows Eddie will chase him. Eddie will catch him, outrun him easily.

It's more than a little fucked up how that thrills him.

Words : 259,574 Chapters : 8/8 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

My Blessing

Undreaming

Back when Eddie was still human, he used to think it would be incredibly cool to be a vampire. Child of the night, Nosferatu, all that stuff from his beloved books. He would be untouchable and the people who wanted to hurt him just for being different would wither away and die of old age while he'd still be the same. But as he's learned during last 80-ish years, being a vampire sucks.

Words : 1,928 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Devour

girafe13

Steve can’t look away. The sounds and voices from the church echo from a distance as the stranger leans in, propping his arm on the doorframe. Steve feels sweat gather on his brow. It’s only after he takes a step towards the stranger that he realizes he’s done so. Steve feels at the very end of a cliff, ready to fall willingly, anything to get closer to the ledge.

“Deputy ,” says the stranger, trailing off, pointing at his chest, not quite touching - oh, Steve wants him to, wants it like he needs air in his lungs - where his badge hangs. "Impressive."

Words : 36,899 Chapters : 10/10 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

A Secret In Your Throat

VampireEddie

Eddie returns - only it's not quite Eddie. Created by Vecna, a new being has taken over Eddie's mind - and he has his sights set on Steve Harrington. But what begins as a kidnapping may start to shift as Kas spends more time around Steve, and as Eddie tries to take back control of his body.

Words : 44,540 Chapters : 10/10 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

I didn't know that I was starving 'till I tasted you

Lihhelsing, tinkerbclla

Steve Harrington didn't really need much to be happy. He was finally signing divorce papers, ready to be free of his ex-wife. He liked his job at the coffee shop, especially because he got to do it beside his best friend in the whole world. And it didn't hurt that Steve's favorite customer, a guy with dark messy curls and a smile to die for, kept coming back to order his usual.

The only weird thing was that Eddie didn't seem to be drinking his coffee because his cup was always full at the end of the night. So Steve made his mission to find a drink Eddie would like, he just didn't imagine it would be something a little... Different.

Words : 16,063 Chapters : 1/1 Rating. : Explicit

AO3 : x

neighborhood gods

paxlux

It’s a legend. It’s a different kind of fairy tale, who wants to hear it. How one boy became wolf because of his stupid heart and the other became vampire because of his storybook courage. Keep an eye on the woods, there’s something out there.

Words : 13,335 Chapters. : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

How I’d Kill (to See You Again)

morningberries

“Are you going to kill me?” Steve’s voice was small, the question choking out of him without permission.

Did he even want to know the answer? It was probably as obvious as it seemed, as Eddie rose an eyebrow at him.

“Kill you? Oh, Stevie, I would never.” Eddie dropped to one knee by Steve’s side. His head leaned down, so close to Steve’s ear that he could feel his hot breath ticking against his hair. “I like my meals hot.”

Words : 66,826 Chapters : 10/10 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

Steve's Got a Date with a Vampire!

inairbinad

Eddie immediately pulled something out of his jacket—was that donated blood?—then tore into the bag and sucked its contents down like, well, water.

Then Steve had questions. The first of which being a hearty, “The fuck?”

Eddie drained the bag and let his head fall back to rest on the seat, exposing the column of his neck. Steve swallowed, cursing his brain to pay attention to what the hell was happening instead of being a slut for once. Eddie lolled his head to look at Steve and gave him a gleaming, bloody smile.

“So, funny story,” he paused. If Steve had to guess it must’ve been for dramatic effect. “I think I’m a vampire.”

Words : 33,485 Chapters : 7/7 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

You and Me (In the Center of the Apocalypse)

novacorpsrecruit

“Not g’na make it,” Eddie said, his voice shaking at the reality they were facing. “Not both of us.”

Steve glanced towards the gate. Eddie’s right. They both can’t make it through. Steve wouldn’t have time to even help Eddie through without the lining closing on him.

If Steve was gonna go through, he had to go now.

He couldn’t leave Eddie here to die.

Steve stepped back, dropping the stick.

“D-dingus?” Robin called. Her voice sounding far away. “No — no, Nancy we gotta — we gotta!”

The mucus lining started to bulge with their attempts to break the seal, the lining growing stronger, thicker, like healing skin. It slowly started to scar over, dark like a scab. It turned dark, hard, and solid. Steve couldn’t hear them anymore.

“You dumbass,” Eddie exhaled sharply. “You’re stuck.”

Words : 58,194 Chapters : 8/8 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

Hbyrde

Steve Harrington is an animator. It’s a job that involves raising the dead; sometimes as a service for mourning relatives looking for closure, often as a tool for the courts to settle disputes.

Steve Harrington is also a licensed vampire hunter.

Two years ago, vampirism became legal in the United States, granting its undead population citizenship. With this new legal status comes a complication for Steve, as he finds himself tasked with helping the very creatures he is accustomed to killing.

Speaking of complications, Steve struggles in more ways than one when he finds himself working closely with none other than Eddie Munson, an undeniably sexy several-hundred-years old master vampire.

Words : 91,810 Chapters : 17/17 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

[sephifrog]

Genesis Rhapsodos alphabet headcanons

A -Affirmations (what he calls you)

 My Goddess, love 

B -Blush (does he blush when you're close by?/How do you make him blush)

Feel Gen only gets flustered when he’s drunk because if you try to make him blush he just turns it right back around on you-it’s worse if you were trying to embarrass him and he just chuckles deeply and sends you a smirk before turning the tables, your usually the one that's blushing and pouting

C -Comfort (how does he comfort you or what do you do that comforts him)

Playing with his hair or singing to him even if you’re bad at it he likes hearing your voice it grounds him, and if you play with his hair he’s putty in your hands

When he comforts you he gets you to cuddle up to him and reads you a book (more than likely loveless), hearing his heart as well as having his arms around you makes you feel safe and calm

D -Dates ( what do you do on your dates)

Wine and diner-he would parade you around - he also has moments when he wants you all to himself however so you’ll have the occasional at-home date and eat his cooking

On your first date, he took you to an expensive restaurant and ordered the most expensive wine he could get, he wanted to impress you (and he was nervous below his cocky attitude and needed some liquid courage) E -End (what would end your relationship?)

Being in Silver Elite -not believing in him, I feel he’s very touched and love-starved and if you start to doubt him it will hurt and he will lash out with his words

F -Fear (what he’s afraid of)

He fears you choosing someone else over him and leaving him - if it's during crisis core he’s afraid you’ll hate him or someone will hurt you

G -Genesis Rhapsodos

An arrogant, prideful man but if he loves you , you get to see a softer side, one that loves Dumbapple pie and reading poems at all hours of the day, he’s petty though so be careful if you upset him he’ll never let it go until he messes up (but he would argue he never messes up)

H -Hold (how he holds you)

Genesis would always hold you from behind loving the feel of your hips in his hands, even if your taller he would just rest his head on your shoulder -he also loves it when you hold him

I -Injured (what would he do if you were hurt?)

He’s a hot head if he saw it happen whatever hurt you is on fire withering on the floor while he checks on you, he would be the type to lash out at anyone except Angeal if they tried to take you from him

J -Jealous (is he Jealous?)

Not really, he knows he's hot shit and that you love him, however, if you show Sephiroth even a pinch of affection he's a sulky mess or about to challenge him to a sparing match he doesn’t play when it comes to Seph

K -Kiss (favourite place to kiss)

He loves kissing your neck and lips

He loves it when you kiss his chest or honestly anywhere 

L -Laugh (something that makes him laugh)

The way you try to read loveless and your brow furrows in annoyance when you don’t understand and have to trot over to him and ask

M -Memory (his favourite memory with you)

When you wore his uniform and pretended to be him

N -Needy

Not as needy as Zack but still quite Neddy especially behind closed doors

O -Over (what is something you had to get over as partners)

His fans, their very upset he’s off the market

P -PDA

He is very open, not caring who is there to see he knows he can protect you from his fan club and honestly wants people to know you tied to him

Q -Quip (can he joke around with you? Do you have inside jokes)You have a few but most of the time his jokes fall flat and he doesn’t get some of your humor

R -Romantic (is he romantic?)

Overly so, it can get too much sometimes so he’s learned when to tune it down

S -Sleep (how do you sleep next to one another)

He holds you to his chest most of the time he sleeps on his back with his arm around you

T -Treasure (what is something he had that reminds him of you and what did he give you to remind you of him?)

 a painting of you both one he had done on your first date without you knowing

You gave him a limited edition Loveless copy maybe someone in your family had it and only a few were made

U -Unlikely (what is something that he would probably never do)

To change himself for you he likes who he is

V -vulnerable

Only behind closed doors he has an image after all

W -Wedding (would he want to get married?)

Man would want the flashiest wedding

X -(e)X (would he be friends with an ex)

No, man is petty, and after he splits with someone he’s done with them

Y -Year (how would he act on New Year's?)

Would take you out to a flashy New years party and kiss you passionately when it strikes midnight

Z -Zoo (would you get any pets?)

Feel a cat just as temperamental as him-