#AND I THRIVE OFF OF POSITIVE FEEDBACK

[scrollonso]

GUYS ALL OF YOUR MESSAGES ON DECO MY TREE WERE SO SWEET IM CRYING ILY GUYS SM MWAM MWAH MWAH

[deepdean-detectives]

[frownyalfred]

I don't think you were being overdramatic or complaining too much, people shouldn't have been rude in the comments, clicking X is the easiest thing in the world and if a person doesn't have anything nice to say, then they should say nothing

If those sort of comments continue, have you considered limiting comments to signed-in users? I think it would help ward them off

Thank you! I appreciate the support.

I have considered that, but I'm not sure how I feel about it. I've also noticed that a lot of questionable/rude comments do come from signed-in accounts, not just guest ones.

My new strategy has been immediately deleting the comments and/or muting the account in question. Trying to reason with people has kind of been burning me out emotionally.

Sometimes I feel like I can either be a writer or a moderator, and not both at the same time. I need to work on that.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Your so talented ❤️. Where do you get all of your ideas? Like, how is each fic and fragment unique?

thank u!! and they’re not THAT unique lol. i reuse a LOT of tropes bc i love them. but honestly? i’ve been in the voltron fandom for like 7 years. i’ve had dumbass little ideas brewing that entire time, and my brain is so rotted thru that EVERYTHING reminds me of them 😭😭 i get so many ideas bc i see the characters everywhere! every dumbass meme, every silly situation, every movie and book, every sign and shop makes me think of them, so inspiration is constant and everywhere :D

[p1utofairy]

★ WHICH COMIC BOOK COUPLE ARE YOU AND YOUR PERSON MOST LIKE?

NOTE — love and light my babies ⭐️🧿 take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. for entertainment purposes only. your feedback is always so greatly appreciated, enjoy!

— PILE 1.

channeled couple(s) → batman x catwoman + jean grey x cyclops.

your person is a very hands-on, actively involved and dynamic individual who thrives in fast-paced environments. they’re very resourceful and can turn a negative into a positive in the blink of an eye – a true problem solver if you will. they learn things/adapt quicker than most and i feel like a lot of people regard them as an amazing friend. your person is very inquisitive and always wants to know more. once they complete a task, they’re on to the next; it can be hard to pin them down for long periods of time. they might move around a lot physically (could have OCD) but i’m more so picking up that they’ve lived here, there and everywhere.

they’re always on the go! i’m also picking up that your person is a little bit of a control freak but gosh they can't help it; they truly love to lead and be of service. you’re gonna find this so hot lowkey lol which is funny because i think you typically go for someone that let’s you control things and have the upper hand but with this person it’s not like that. their sense of control is different though — it’s not possessive, like “you’re mine!” or “no, you can’t go out wearing that!” instead, it’s more about seeing you struggle with something and insisting on helping you with it. you might say, “no, i’ve got it,” but they’ll respond, “here, just let me…” you get frustrated because you just said you could handle it, but there they go, taking it from your hands and easing the stress and pain you were carrying. wow, that was such a descriptive scenerio but it just randomly came to me lol. it’s giving 6H energy!

11:11 on the clock i’m blushing hehe your person is super sweet and chivalrous it’s very charming, pile 1. don’t even get me started on their physique WHEW you’re gonna love their arms/biceps…your person might even have a lot of tattoos (i’m seeing sleeve tats) and i can just see you fighting the urge to playfully bite them lol. they could be very athletic and go to the gym a lot. now switching gears, the comic book couples that similarly mirrors your connection is jean grey x cyclops + batman and catwoman. some of y’all might be rolling your eyes at the mention of jean and scott (my wolverine girlies i’m talking to you) but HERE ME OUT and let me cook!

i feel like you’re more of a wanderer and don’t care to be as involved as your person is, if that makes sense? gypsy by fleetwood mac just started playing in my mind. trials and tribulations throughout your life might have caused you to turn inwards, and you feel unsure about what it is your supposed to be doing/where life is exactly taking you. your presence is more calm and still and your person is again, more hands on and out there. like jean grey, you are very clever and passionate but there’s a temperamental side to you. you might have strong air sign placements in your chart because i feel that you’re very rational about your emotions – sometimes to a fault. i think you hold back a lot of the times (especially when it comes to love) in fear of hurting other people’s feelings or just being misunderstood. some of you could have people-pleasing tendencies. your person gives that scott summers vibe because their actions are typically driven by a sense of duty rather than a desire to please others.

whether you know it or not, you wield a lot of power and sometimes i think people take your kindness for weakness. what your person is really going to admire about you is how intentional you are especially when it comes to giving/receiving love. you are so gentle and kind with your person – soooo doting and attentive. you two deadass have a telepathic connection cause when one person is feeling off, the other one can sense it. your person is also tryna be funny and say that you’re used to dealing with logans (wolverine) but they’re coming to change that. LMAOOOO your person is funny as fuck if you couldn’t already tell.

you both compliment each other so well, spiritually and physically. that’s why i also channeled batman x catwoman because y’alls vibe just gives that. y’all know those crazy ass tiktok/IG comments when people are like i need to see the tape PLS yeah…y’all evoke that reaction from people. you both find each other incredibly sexy like the sexual tension between you both is gonna be insaneeeee. i’m also sensing a bit of a bratty energy coming from your end in terms of the attention your person gets lol they might be very sought after. it’s reminding of the ending scene of ‘the batman’ when selena is urging batman to come with her and part of him is superrrr tempted but duty calls. i promise you that your person only wants you, though. like i’m being so deadass when i say that they’re literally gonna be devoted to you.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

“i work alone”, you might be used to the wolverine types but what you really need is a scott summers, back to black by amy winehouse, spotless mind by jhené aiko, maneater by nelly furtado, dylan, slayyyter, dua lipa, ESFJ, ISTJ, resemblance to callum turner, 333, sagittarius, 6H cancer, capricorn rising, 555.

— PILE 2.

channeled couple(s) → daredevil x elektra + rogue x gambit.

oooo right off the bat i’m hearing stand still by sabrina claudia. you’re so unaware that we're feeling, the same thing, the same damn thing…time is standing still and why are we still here? interesting, pile 2. very interesting! you and your person are more alike than you would think. from the outside you both appear very different, but energetically you both are sooo compatible. i’m hearing “from different worlds” and being drawn to the movie aladdin lol maybe that’s one of your favorite disney movies or your person’s? i think that’s why i was picking up on elektra x daredevil because it’s like…you and your person’s upbringing differed in a way but there’s a common ground in terms of how it’s shaped you both. one of you is more forward and hasty while the other is more reluctant and calculated.

you feel very confined and limited…like your environment is just so repetitive and boring. you’ve been hoping for something new to manifest – and you feel like you’re on the brink of it, it’s like you can almost reach out and touch it. for most of you, this is in regards to your connection with this person but for other’s it’s a job/traveling opportunity of some sort. you could possibly live in a very small town or somewhere that doesn’t have a lot to offer/keep you occupied. you’re about to see some progress sooner than you think, pile 2. give it about 1-3 months and watch how the magic happens! sagittarius season could be very significant for you.

your person is going to come into your life HOT and HEAVY, omg. you’re gonna be like wait wtf when did you get here?! nobody’s supposed to be here by deborah cox is playing in my head now – i’ve tried that love thing for the last time…my heart says no, no! nobody's supposed to be here…but you came along and changed my mind. LMAOOOO well pile 2 get ready cause your person is gonna sweep you off your damn feet. now it makes sense why i channeled rogue x gambit for you two because it’s like you’re taking of risk of some sort…the risk being your heart. trusting someone romantically is like risky business for you.

you’re so used to being able to predict outcomes and know what’s going to happen next, but with this person uhn uhn things are not so black and white. actually, there’s a lot of grey areas and that’s what’s going to scare you yet intrigue you about this person. you’re so rogue coded, awww. rogue has the ability to absorb the powers and memories of others through touch, so that makes her very guarded and reluctant to form close relationships. gambit is intrigued by her, but she is wary of him. i see this being similar to you and your person’s interactions…there might be an initial hesitation on your end but there’s an undeniable chemistry between the two of you!

your person is similar to gambit who is a smooth-talking, charming, and rough around the edges type of character. he’s very drawn to rogue’s beauty and strength (and similar to you) her self-imposed isolation and emotional baggage makes her hesitant to open up to him. i’m definitely picking up on the slow-burn trope for y’all, pile 2. although you really want this connection you might feel held back by self-doubt and fear intimacy/vulnerability. you’ve gotta work through this slowly but surely, my loves. it’s not easy but it’s necessary because this person absolutely loves you, pile 2. they’d put everything on the line for you if they had to.

just like gambit, this person will always be deeply in love with you no matter how much you try to shut them out or act like your feelings aren’t as deep as they really are. i also just want to mention that your person has such a way with words like UGH the way they say things/articulate themselves is gonna have you going feral lol they’re so knowledgeable and persuasive. it doesn’t help that they’re fine as fuck too lol you’re gonna be mentally shadow-boxing your anxiety whenever you’re around them because they’re just soooo damn charming fr!

i’m also being drawn to one of the biggest themes of rogue and gambit’s relationship which is rogue not being able to physically touch him without absorbing his memories and abilities – which is something that frightens her, not only because it could harm him but also because it’s something that strips away everything from the person she’s touching. now y’alls situation is obviously not that dramatic, but i am picking up that some of you that picked this pile could be virgins or celibate. i feel like the wait will make you both become even closer.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

you make wanna by usher, “i never thought this was possible”, bit of a wild card (no pun intended), fiery personality, leo/aquarius placements, you’re their best friend, love on the brain by rihanna.

— PILE 3.

channeled couple → wanda maximoff x vision.

you and your person are too stinkin’ cute, pile 3. lmaooo i know that sounds so corny and cheesy but your person puts you in this kind of mood. the sun is shining sooo bright as i’m writing this. it’s like you light up their life and vice versa. you remind them of a warm summer day at the beach where you’re free to just roam around, have ice cream and relax. you’re like a breath of fresh air for this person. your person can be extremely sappy (in the best way possible) like i see them randomly just grabbing you and spinning you around or twirling you lol they’re like…always in a good mood. they might like to sing or dance mhm i get the vibe that they have a CD collection like they really love music sooo much! they will love to cook for you as well awww they’re so considerate, pile 3. you guys are definitely giving that old school cutesy romantic 60s couple vibe for sure, i could cry!

i channeled wanda maximoff x vision for a reason i see. i feel like when you first meet your person you’re going to be going through alot in your own life and i’m not necessarily getting that it’s anything bad but it seems like you’re either working through something or towards something. this could be you confronting some childhood trauma and/or previous relationship baggage. it might also be that you're not quite where you imagined you'd be in life right now, or maybe you're feeling a bit unsure about your current path. whatever the reason, your person will likely sense that you're feeling a little lost, and they'll pick up on that shift in your energy. you might meet your person while you’re traveling or outside of wherever you live (i’m hearing out the country for some) and i see you two forming a very close friendship first. infrunami by steve lacy is coming to mind – girl, you're the one i want, you’re the one i need…i’m beggin' you, please. can you come back to me? 'cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me. hm for some of you this person could be a mutual or you somehow know them through your friends? if not, there just seems to be a sense of familiarity between the two of you.

i’m hearing “wow what a small world!” so tbh you could meet this person through one of your friends lol now i’m hearing best friend’s brother by victoria justice PLEASE that’s so random but on brand. also i’m picking up that your person could wear glasses? they are very inquisitive and can read you like a book, pile 3.

like vision, your person can pick up on your emotions, sensing when something is off even if you don’t express it. though vision is a synthezoid, his close connection to wanda and his time with the avengers allowed him to empathize deeply with human emotions. over time, his understanding of these feelings went beyond his programming, and his love for wanda amplified his ability to sense when she’s in distress. he offers comfort to her when she's struggling with her powers or grief. i feel like this relationship will be therapeutic for the both of you! you scratch their back, they’ll scratch yours.

you are similar to wanda in the sense that you can alter/create your reality – YOU have the power, but you have to believe it first. you doubt yourself a lot and create a lot of chaos within your mind because you can’t decide whether or not you should do something or if you’re even making the right decision. i think this has a lot to do with your childhood/upbringing, you stay in the shadows instead of being in the spotlight. that’s the problem, pile 3. i think you’re afraid of taking up space in fear of what others might say or think. there’s this sense of imposter syndrome. in order to bring this relationship into fruition you’ve gotta trust and believe in yourself, my loves. you’re an absolute badass �� pop out and act like it! 10:10 on the clock. stop getting so caught up in the idea of what you think should be perfect. nothing and no one is perfect and ironically that’s the beauty of life lol shit ain’t always sweet and that’s okay. the world keeps spinning. it might not seem like it now but you will be more than okay, trust me! your person can’t wait to be in your orbit eeek i’m giddy at the thought of you two connecting. you don’t even realize it but your spirit guides are working overtime to make this connection happen hehe it starts with you though, babe. buckle up cause your person is ready. are you down to ride?

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

michael, breakfast at tiffany’s, NYC, month of may, one of the girls by the weeknd ft. lily rose depp & jennie, looks like MBJ, leo, 7H, 6H/virgo venus.

[pookieace]

HAND HOLDING WITH THE GENSHIN MEN

contains : fem!reader, smut (yeah this is smutty not soft sry not sry <3 lmaooo), mentions of cervix fucking, size kink, tummy bulges, breeding / impregnation kink, creampies woohoo, oooh the praise in this has me going a lil insane tbh, some degradation too, lots of oral, fingering, soft doms *sniffles* my weakness. includes scenarios for zhongli, kaeya, dain, tighnari, xiao and childe. this is not proof read at all, please ignore any mistakes i will not be fixing them cause i'm lazy :D

i thought about this scenario with xiao and then i spiralled from there. sorry not sorry i needed to get this out of my system actually... i am so unwell bye. likes / reblogs are appreciated and feedback is always welcomed <3 minors dni !!

zhongli : oh he is so big. listen, everythingggggggg about him is big okay, he's literally a dragon like? his hands? big. height? bIG. cock(s)? BIIIIG and he thrives off being big. sinks his cock into you while being in a half dragon form just because his dick is bigger than his human form. golden horns on top of his head, the colour of his skin changing from his normal pale one to somewhat mixed. hues of black, orange, yellow and golden the further you travel down his body. his hands and fingers are slightly longer in this form. nails coloured black, almost resembling claws. he enjoys this form because it lets him keep his human-ness but it also embraces his past. his favourite form when you two get intimate because he wants to see your cunt struggle to take him. "there you go darling, takin' me in so well." he'd whisper as his tip pushes past your entrance, thumb rubbing against your clit. "loosen up for me, that's it." as your cunt begins to flutter around himjdhfhf aaaaa don't even get me started on the bulge he'd make in your tummy :( it's inevitable. he's just so damn big.

favourite position is you on your back, couple of pillows under your body and him holding your waist to raise your lower half off the bed, claws digging into the flesh of your waist as your cunt clenches around his cock. it's only when he's bottomed out and you're bucking your hips to signal him to move that he'd lace his fingers with yours. pins them above your head. have i mentioned zhongli's big? he's so big that he only really requires one hand to have both your wrists in his hold. daddy zhongli is so strong too, doesn't matter how much you move or thrash around when he fucks you, trying to get your wrists out of his hold so you can just touch him, he doesn't budge. waits for you to really beg, tears in your eyes as you sob out "please, please, please" will he soften up. intertwines his fingers with yours as he rocks his hips slower, but sooo deep. leans over to place a kiss to the top of your head while you thank him for letting go, and he does that every time when you two hold hands :( he's so <3 mm yeah best daddy me thinks.

kaeya : this man,, lord kayea is a wild card in my very humble opinion. he's a tease, we all know this. but i think sex to him is so intimate, especially when it's with someone he would give his heart to on a silver platter. he's like the perfect mix of tease and praise and degradation and somehow giving you what you need all at the same time? idk, just listen okay. the word tease might as well just be kaeya's middle name, he's just that good at it. he likes to hear you beg, plays dumb too. "hmm? my sweet little thing, you're so quiet. what did you say, i'm afraid i missed it." all the while he is knuckle deep into your cunt, fingers curling up juuuust right so they nudge your spot. but only just. he knows your body so well it's almost annoying. the curl of his fingers isn't enough to give you proper satisfaction but it is enough to have you crave for more. enough to make you gasp and buck your hips to try and get the satisfaction you need. "ah ah ah, don't be like that. i can't reward you if you're being a needy slut for me darling. use your words." starts withdrawing his fingers and ultimately you need to grab a hold of his wrist and b e g for him not to do that, beg for his touch. it makes his head go a little dizzy if i'm being honest. "there you go. that wasn't so hard now, was it?" and he gives you what you've been needing :( slender, pretty fingers pushing deeper into you till he physically can't anymore. letting them curl against your spongy spot and making you cum with a cry of his name liiike he thrives off teasing you and giving you what you want.

puts his dirty fingers in your mouth while he kisses your stomach, slowly kissing his way up your body (he is a romantic man after all) and makes sure to give your tits a squeeze too. grabs a hold of your chin to make you look at him as you let go of his fingers with a little pop and presses his lips to yours. it's a little messy, slippery and sloppy but you can feel how in love he is with you. spreads your thighs apart so he can press his hard on against your cunt while you kiss, tangles his fingers with yours while he ruts against your centre like he has all the time in the world :(( he takes it sooo slow, grinding against your cunt, the fabric of his boxers rubbing your clit so nicely, his lips against yours, giving your hands a little squeeze as you fiddle around with the elastic on his boxers. he just holds his body weight up with one hand, the other still tangled up with your fingers as you pull down the material just enough to have his cock out and while he fills you up nicely, he just tightens his hold on your hand cause you feel so tight around him every damn time <33

dainsleif : starting this off by saying he is SO touch starved. honorary member of the touched starved crew. he still gets so shy when he sees you naked in front of him no matter how long it's been. dain might look rough and tough on the outside, but he is so soft for you. he adores kisses your body. your lips? he kiss. your cheek? he kiss. top of your head or your nose? he kiss. inside of your wrist where he can get a slight wiff of your perfume? he kiss. but his favourite you may ask? his favourite type (aside from your lips) of kiss is when you're laid out on the bed. where he's between your legs and he's lifting your shirt off, placing kisses along your tummy, the valley of your breasts, then a gentle kiss underneath your earlobe before he's tossing your shirt to the side and making his way down your body again. this time, he places kisses to both your ankles once your pants are off, kissing up both your legs and your thighs. the last kiss he places is to your clit before his thumb presses against your nub, gentle circular motions that already have you seeing stars. dain rests his head against your thigh as he teases and rubs your clit over and over, watching how your hole clenches around nothing.

"always so pretty for me, aren't you?" another soft kiss to your upper thighs that have you wanting to shut your legs at how sensitive you feel. "keep 'em open, that's it. there you go." he'd say, your trembling thighs spreading once again. he's not the best with words of affection but he'll be damned if he doesn't praise you, let you know how pretty you are. how good you are for him. and when your hands clutch his hair and the bedsheets the closer you get to your orgasm, he'd bring the one that was holding the bedsheets closer to his mouth – dain places a kiss to your wrist, to the tips of your fingers before he slides his fingers against it and lets you grip it. he enjoys holding your hand so much while he does this, i cannot stress that enough. he likes it when you feel real. and it's only then, will he place his mouth on your cunt, letting his tongue tease your folds and dipping into your hole to really get a taste of you. feeling a sense of pride when you gasp and whimper out his name, tightening your hold on his hand as the other one still in his hair, buries his face deeper into your pussy.

tighnari : furry king he's so cute, sighs. like kaeya, sex for him is very very intimate with someone he loves. it's not about getting off, it's more so about the gentle touches, the praises that come from both your lips and his, it's about the way you two latch onto each other when you make love and he will die on that hill. yes every now and then, his animalistic urges take over and it is about a quick fuck but more often than not, he likes to explore your body. he loves it when you're straddling him. his favourite thing to do is feel you up while the both of you kiss. even though tighnari takes it slow, his movements almost feel rushed, desperate to have your clothes off. but it's the gentle kind of desperate, you know? where he wants you to be naked so he can appreciate every dip and every curve on your body without any flimsy layers of clothing in the way. hearts in his eyes even though it's the nth time he's seen you naked. you're wearing nothing, seated on his lap while his eyes dart all over your body, never really able to linger on one part for too long. admires how out of breath you are just from a make-out, lips slightly swollen and pinker than usual. continues to place kisses against your jawline to your neck as his hands grope your hips and thighs, eventually one hand inching closer and closer to your heat, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you feel the pad of his thumb finally brush against your clit. "feels good?" he'd mumble against your skin, ears twitching with excitement every time you let out more content noises followed by a soft "yes."

tighnari's good with his fingers, great in fact. he pays attention to your body, listening to every noise and taking mental note of how your body squirms in his hold as he touches you – he's so good that your hands don't really know where they should go. sometimes digging into the skin of his shoulders or his biceps. sometimes when he hasn't riled you up to where the only replies he wets are broken whimpers, they're in tighnari's hair, patting just behind his ears which has him rutting his hips against you, or sometimes they're just tangled in his locks tightly as you need to feel something to ground you. but tighari's favourite is when you plead him for his hand. the little taps against his bicep or wrist make his heart melt, followed by the "hold me, please." it almost makes the animal in him want to manhandle you, toss you on the bed and pin you there while his cock is hitting your cervix and you can't do anything but lay there and just take it. but the rational part of him tells him no. the rational part of him brings your hand to his lips, places a kiss to each and every one of your knuckles before lacing his fingers with yours, all while his other hand is buried knuckle deep in your cunt and being soaked with your juices.

xiao : he is very very very desperate with how he holds your hands. it's more so to remind himself that you're there with him, that you're real. he's a very passionate lover, how could he not be after eons and eons of thinking he's alone? of eons and eons of being alone. he's also a honorary member of the touched starved crew god he is so DJKFDHJGKD i'm so in love w him <333 he just wants to please you okay? like. all the time. every day. whenever you ask him or hint at it, he's ready to give you anything you want. he would do aaaaaanything for you to be honest. he's not very good with words, he knows he's terrible with words. but what he lacks vocally, he makes up for it with his actions instead. slow, but deliberate. almost like he's forgotten all those little stripes and freckles on your skin even though he's been memorising every dip and every mark whenever you two get intimate. gentle, barely there touches while he takes your clothes off, ghosts his fingertips over your pussy and breasts at first. likes it when you inhale sharply but he does give in. he's not much of a tease like kaeya is, gives in so quick. "'m gettin' there. just wait." he'd grumble, but there's no bite behind it all all. places a kiss to your hip bone before he spreads your legs and laps your cunt like a starved man. he's so good with his tongue, i can't stress that enough. another man who makes sure you've came on his tongue or fingers before he thinks about fucking you. the thing about xiao is, he gets pussy drunk so quick, and so very easily. the second he hears you let out a sigh of satisfaction after his mouth is on you, he's gone.

he's soo gone. xiao is an adepti, he's much stronger than humans. it's super easy for him to hold your body down with his hands, whether they be on you waists or even hooked around your thighs, he's not moving his mouth off you until he feels your hole clenching and gushing. or unless you're trying to pry his head off cause you "wan' be filled, please xiao!" flips you onto your back and makes sure your face is pressed into the mattress and your ass is up ohh my goddjghf yeah,, fucks you like that actually, he's pussy drunk. let him bury his cock in your cunt any way he wants plssss. he may not be long, but fuck is he thick. makes you clench the bedsheets while your noises are muffled out by the bed but :( xiao needs to hear you – tugs your back flush against his chest, makes his cock go even deeper in you that you're going dizzy and you're even more dizzier when you feel his fingers on your clit aaaa. firm believer xiao uses one hand too rub your clit while the other turns your head towards him so he can kiss you :(( he loves kissing you so much when you're fucking, tries to kiss you every time before you cum on his cock. it's so romantic for him. feels you cum around his cock and he's trying to hold back a groan but but but that's when he moves his hand that was on your clit to hold yours :( still kissing you too till he orgasms and spills his cum deeep in you and makes out with you for a couple of minutes. doesn't really care how sloppy it is, he just likes kissing you while you hold hands like that :((

childe : listen... childe is actually so romantic (we'll get there soon) i dunno about you. hand holding is his middle name, it's true i've seen the birth certificate. a romantic, mean perv is the best way to describe him. such a tease too. he won't give you what you need till he sees tears in your eyes or you actually start crying. he's kinda mean about it too. gets you sooo close to an orgasm only to just rip it away. "nawww, you cryin sweets?" and proceeds to lick your tears away. "don't cry, you pretty thing. gonna give you what you need, 'kay? just lay back f'me. there you go." smiles darkly when you listen to him again and lay your body flat against the bed again while shaking. and he just keeps doing that until you're full blow sobbing. "aj– ha– 'jax! please.. can' take it a'more... need to c-cum please." and watches you grip his wrists while you cry. it sets him off. he loves that you can get so pathetic for him :( some days when he's made you cry by not letting you cum, his favourite this is having you on top. just to add a little bit more humiliation into the mix. lays down first and gets all comfy without telling you what he's doing and just pats his lap. "not gonna get over here? thought you wanted to cum." has you scrambling over and once you're straddling him he'd put his hands on your thighs and just stroke them since they're shaking so much. but gives them a little slap, just enough for there to be a sound but not enough to hurt when he feels you try to lift your hips to take his cock in "relax baby. didn't i say i'm gonna give you what you need?" hhhh and when your thighs have calmed down and he's made your lips all swollen from kissing you so much will he lift your hips for you, letting you guide his cock into your hole and gives you time to get used to the stretch when he's bottomed out.

while you're taking your time and breathing whilst trying to hold back the orgasm that's approaching once being filled up, he'd let his fingertips trail up your arm, hand cupping the side of your face and rubbing his thumb along your lash line to gather the tears that haven't fallen yet and makes you suck the saltiness away from his thumb... and that makes his cock twitch in you. doesn't let you move though, wants to see how ruined you look before he's even fucked you right. and once he's admired you enough he'd go "c'mere sweets." and proceeds to hold out his hand for you. coos at how your hand is sooo tiny in his though. and he lets his other arm wrap your lower back, essentially he has you resting your head against his tits while you two hold hands. it's gentle, a contrast to how he was being mean to you earlier. as you grind on his cock and the little tufts of hair on his lower tummy make you cum around his cock, he brings your intertwined hands to his mouth and places a kiss to the back of your hand and bucks his hips up into your pussy to get to his high. but the thing is, once ajax feels soft like this, he'd just keep you above him, kiss you and keep holding your hands till he's hard again and fuck you till your lower halves are all messy and sticky.

[greyskyflowers]

I have found there's very specific things I just really enjoy in fics about Edwin and Charles's romantic relationship.

So, I honestly just can't picture Charles anything other than very inexperienced at intimacy but so excited. Like a teenager feeling up his first girlfriend in the back of a car or under the bleachers. Excited, nervous, eager to please and just kind of in awe of being able to touch someone like that. He's got almost no idea what he's doing but he's 100% open and willing to learning.

I think he always ends up smiling into kisses, a little lopsided grin that's pleased as hell. He always offers a bunch of little encouragements and comforts You're doing great. I know it's a lot but I've got you. You feel good.

And lots of nipping, bites, and marks because no one will ever convince me Charles is not a hickey man.

Charles thrives on positive feedback and Edwin makes sure to always give praise.

Edwin is just kind of overwhelmed with intimacy. Being intimate with someone is a lot, especially if you haven't had it before and you've kind of built it up in your head.

So, I always feel like Edwin is in this constant closer no that's too close wait come back push and pull of anxious affection that has him leaning into every touch even though he's also trying to pull away at the same time.

Lots of bitten off noises, hums and gasps. He touches like he's scared he's going to break something or it's all going to disappear.

If they have to stop because it gets to be too much for Edwin, Charles doesn't ever look upset. He's pleased as hell to be doing any of this. He can't think of anything Edwin could ever do to disappoint him.

Careful, light, sure touches because the only intimacy they both really have is terrible. Edwin with the boys who held him down and hell. Charles with his dad.

I think Charles shows his love by loving someone and Edwin shows his love by letting himself be loved.

Charles wasn't able to show love to his family or his friends, who weren't friends at all. I personally imagine he had lots of girls he messed around with while he was alive with but it never went beyond that into something serious.

He can't show his love to humans, like Crystal, because it makes them look crazy. He can't hold a living girl's hand in public without her getting looks. They can't kiss or even talk with other living humans around without it being strange.

He can show his love to Edwin in a way he can't show it to anyone else.

Edwin is proud to be seen with Charles. He can talk and touch and be with Charles regardless of who's around. I personally like the idea that ghosts can feel other ghosts, as if they were living people or something close to that.

So, being with Edwin feels like he's with Edwin.

I just think once the ice is broken on what their relationship is, that he'd be all over it. Holding hands, quick kisses, hugs, sitting next to each other or all tangled together. Also a big fan of Charles coming up behind Edwin, wrapping his arms around his waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder to watch whatever it is he's doing.

Edwin didn't have close friends or family when he was alive, at least that we're aware of. Then he spent decades in hell where his only touch was painful, terrrifying, never ending.

Letting someone touch him, put him in such a vulnerable position physically and emotionally, is a big ask. That's why he's never done it or seem to have even contemplated it until he realizes his feelings about Charles.

He lets Charles touch him, and protect him, and know him more than anyone one else living or dead. It's easy to open himself up for Charles to love him.

I also feel like there's such a comfort level there that Edwin could say I think I'd like to try *insert action here* and Charles would be like yep yep we can do that or Charles could say I've always wanted to try *insert action here* and Edwin's like okay I'll find a book and read up on it with a fluttering of anxious excitement.

Do I also personally like to think bdsm dynamics, sexual and/or nonsexual, are present in their relationship? Yes. Absolutely. 100%.

[bowling-with-ham]

i’m glad everyone’s getting a kick out of jonathan being covered by a sticker 😭 truth be told i did it cuz i couldn’t think of what jonathan should be. what should he be

i don’t know what blog to put goes wrong stuff on but. mock-up of a cornley au where it’s kind of a herman’s head and/or an inside out with trevor as the one whose head it is

[justabigassnerd]

Saviour

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 9,382

Warnings - violence, threats, swearing, angst, drugs, alcohol, fluff, inaccurate police descriptions, fluff

Summary - after a few months of being fostered by Tim, a family member pops up and both you and Tim have a bad feeling about him

A/N - hey y'all! it's time for another installment of this little universe I've created that started with 'Unexpected Bond' (yeah let's call it a little universe). this idea had been floating around in my head for a while so I truly hope I've done it justice. if y'all want to see more from this duo please send in requests for them (I'm running out of ideas already). anyways I won't ramble, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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After a few months of living with Tim, he had noticed some positive changes with you. You had broken out of your shell, you had been transferred to a new school and you were thriving in your new environment. It had taken you a little while to unlearn all the things the children’s home had embedded into you but Tim had been nothing but patient and comforting through the whole process. Tim’s work friends had all met you and all accepted you with open arms. Kojo had become your loving yet fierce protector, and he wouldn’t leave your side when you were home. Tim loved having you around, viewing you as a daughter more and more with each passing day and as time passed, he started debating the idea of going forward with adopting you. Since Kiara had confirmed that you had no family to reunite with, the aim had always been to find someone to adopt you, and since you had already become part of Tim’s family, he wanted to make you a Bradford officially.

“Hey, kid, come on! Let’s get you to school!” Tim calls through the house, his work bag slung over his shoulder while he waits patiently.

“Sorry! I’m coming!” You yell back, shoving the last book into your bag and grabbing it, rushing to the front door with Kojo bounding behind you.

“Cutting it fine. Come on, get in the truck.” Tim says with a light chuckle, placing a hand on your shoulder and nudging you towards the front door.

“Sorry, Tim. Bye, Kojo, be a good boy.” You apologise to Tim with an innocent smile before crouching down to pet Kojo quickly before heading out to the truck.

“You heard her, be good.” Tim then says, pointing at Kojo who sits, tilting his head as if offended by the idea of being anything but a good dog in your absence. After exiting the house, Tim crossed to the truck, got behind the wheel and headed off in the direction of your school, both of you chatting the whole way.

“Alright, be good,” Tim says, parking the car outside your school and turning to face you as you mirror his actions.

“I always am.” You say with a smile, making Tim let out a soft chuckle.

“I know.” He replies softly before opening his arms for a hug you’re quick to give him.

“Okay, you better get going. Have a good day, y/n/n.” Tim says as he releases you from the hug, noticing the other kids already heading in and you glance over your shoulder nodding as you open the door.

“Have a good day on patrol. Bye, Da… Tim.” You say, eyes widening quickly when you realise your slip-up, making you scramble to get out of the truck, bag in hand as you practically slam the door behind you and you feel the growing heat behind your cheeks. You then rush into the school building, hoping Tim didn’t catch what you said.

As you rushed into the building, Tim was sitting in the truck, lips slightly parted in shock and eyes wide. He had heard you begin to call him ‘dad’ before you corrected yourself. He began driving to Mid-Wilshire station with that moment playing on repeat in his head. He barely processed anything that was said at roll call and by the time they had gotten into their shop, Lucy had a suspicion that something was going on.

“Is everything, okay Tim?” Lucy asks as Tim begins to drive out of the station.

“Yeah, fine,” Tim mutters, barely glancing her way as he talks. Lucy was not convinced that Tim really was fine and while she didn’t push at first, as the day progressed and he wasn’t acting like the TO she was used to, she started to get concerned. And when they finally sat down to have their lunch, she decided to talk to him.

“Okay, you’re clearly not fine. Has something happened? Is y/n okay?” Lucy asks, getting nothing more than an uninterested hum in response as he stares into space. Realising Tim is not paying her any real attention, she decides to test something.

“Did you hear that Wesley cheated on Angela? The wedding’s off.” She says, picking up a fry and watching as Tim nods.

“Cool.” He mumbles, which makes Lucy reach her final straw, throwing a fry and hitting Tim in the face, making him flinch away from it and scowl at Lucy.

“What the hell, Boot?” He scolds, his glare cold as he stares at her.

“You’ve been distracted all day. What is wrong with you?” Lucy demands, another fry in hand as she readies herself to throw another one.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Tim insists, immediately having to duck his head to dodge another fry thrown in his direction.

“Try that again,” Lucy says, raising an eyebrow as Tim glares at her once more.

“You’re a pain in the ass. You know that, don’t you?” Tim says pointedly while Lucy nods with a smile.

“Start talking.” She then warns, making Tim hold his hands up in mock surrender.

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you. I was dropping y/n off at school this morning and she almost called me ‘Dad’. That’s what’s been on my mind.” Tim says, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in his chair, watching as Lucy processes what he said.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? I mean you are her foster father. It just means she actually sees her as her dad.” Lucy says, tilting her head slightly as she talks.

“After Isabel left I didn’t think I’d get a chance to be a dad and y/n’s great. She’s the daughter I didn’t know I needed. Biological or not, I see her as my kid. But I saw her face after she said it. She looked embarrassed. Maybe I’m not good enough.” Tim says, rambling with an unusual nervousness about him.

“Stop right there. You’re more than enough for y/n. She’s told me on multiple occasions that she considers you fostering her as the best day of her life. You got her out of the toughest time of her life and looked after her. I don’t think she was embarrassed. Maybe a little scared because she didn’t want to upset you or overstep any boundaries? Look, you should talk to her after your shift. It’ll do you both good to clear the air about everything. And don’t give me that ‘I don’t talk about my feelings’ crap. This is y/n we’re talking about.” Lucy says, pointing at Tim when he attempts to butt in, making him close his mouth and shrug.

“I guess you’re right,” Tim says softly.

“You guess I’m right?” Lucy asks with a light chuckle, shaking her head jokingly as Tim rolls his eyes.

“Okay, you’re right. I’ll talk to y/n when I’m home.” Tim finally agrees with a nod, ending their conversation on that topic then and there.

Meanwhile, at your school, you were having a similar conversation with your friends.

“Guys you don’t get it. I almost called him ‘Dad’ to his face!” You groan as your friend's exchange looks.

“I’m sure it’s not a big deal. You’ve been telling us that he’s your father figure anyway.” Your friend Juliet says, shrugging slightly with a supportive smile.

“Yes I see him as a father figure but it doesn’t mean he’s okay with the idea of me calling him ‘Dad’ at all. To him I’m probably just some foster kid he’ll end up wanting nothing more to do with before a year is up.” You mumble, poking at the food in front of you with your fork.

“Somehow I doubt that. If he didn’t care about you he wouldn’t have done that whole thing with shutting down an entire children's home because of your experience there.” Ruby then says, pointing at you with her fork as you roll your eyes.

“He didn’t just do it because of me. He knows there were other kids in that home that needed help.” You shrug, stabbing some food onto your fork and eating a mouthful.

“You’re ridiculous. Why don’t you just talk to him about it? It’ll be better if you just clear the air about it.” Juliet suggests, both she and Ruby watching as you silently debate the idea given to you.

“Maybe you’re right.” You say quietly, lifting your drink to your lips before you take a sip.

“Maybe?” Juliet scoffs, raising an eyebrow as you laugh.

“Okay, okay. You’re right. I’ll talk to him later.” You agree, watching with a laugh as your two friends share a high-five.

That afternoon, you made your way back home after getting the bus. You knew Tim finished work later so you had to make your own way home in the afternoons, you had never complained, the bus journey was always interesting but the walk from your nearest bus stop always helped to clear your head. When you made it home, you unlocked the front door and you were immediately greeted by Kojo who sniffed at you and panted happily while you petted him.

“Hey, Kojo. Yes, I know I’ll take you for a walk just let me put my bag down.” You say with a chuckle as Kojo begins to paw at your leg and whine, telling you he wants to go for a walk. You put your bag down and grab Kojo’s lead, hooking it on his collar before heading back out of the house. Walking Kojo in the afternoons had quickly become one of your favourite activities, it gave you something to do while waiting for Tim to come back and you loved getting to spend extra time with Kojo. The walk was fun, you took Kojo to his favourite park and let him run around as well as play fetch with him to let him get his energy out. 

By the time you got home, Kojo was more than happy to lay on the end of your bed while you did some of your homework in your room. As you work at your desk, you often find yourself sitting back in your chair and admiring your room, having decorated it since you moved in. You’d painted the walls, there were various posters on the walls of various singers you’d started listening to. Tim had been able to convince you to put an LA Rams pennant up in your room after you started watching the occasional game with him. As you finish your final piece of homework, you hear a knock at the door which has Kojo perking up in seconds.

“Come on then, let’s see who’s at the door.” You grumble, getting up from your seat and heading to the front door with Kojo following close behind. Once you reach the door, you look through the peephole, expecting it to either be a delivery person or some door-to-door salesperson. But when you see the person on the other side you open the door.

“Kiara? What are you doing here?” You greet your social worker happily, hugging her and she is quick to return it while Kojo sits and waits patiently.

“Hey, y/n. I did try calling Tim. Is he at work?” Kiara asks as you invite her inside, wondering why she’s dropped by.

“Yeah, he usually finishes a few hours after I finish school, depending on if he gets roped into a case or not.” You shrug as Kojo approaches Kiara, nosing her hand for attention and she’s happy to oblige.

“That’ll explain why I couldn’t get a hold of him then.” Kiara muses, petting Kojo.

“Is everything okay? You don’t normally come by unannounced.” You ask, quickly becoming worried about what is going on. Kiara always called ahead of time when she came to do a visit and would never come by if she couldn’t get through to Tim beforehand.

“There’s something I need to talk to both you and Tim about,” Kiara says, making your concern levels rise.

“If it's urgent I’m sure Tim would be okay with us swinging by the station. They have rooms we can use to talk privately in.” You offer, coming up with the only solution you could think of.

“It’ll have to do. Come on y/n.” Kiara says, straightening up from where she was petting Kojo and you nod slightly.

“Okay, bye Kojo, hold down the fort for us.” You say, grabbing your house keys and petting Kojo goodbye once more before following Kiara out to her Mini, getting in the passenger seat and nervously thinking of worst-case scenarios. When you arrive at Mid-Wilshire station, you follow Kiara into the station and approach the front desk.

“Is there a way we can speak to Officer Bradford?” Kiara asks the officer at the front desk who glances up at her, eyes briefly flicking to you before looking back at Kiara.

“What do you need to talk to him about?” The officer asks, looking bored as he talks.

“Kiara? y/n? What are you doing here?” Tim’s worried voice comes out of nowhere and you and Kiara whip around to see Tim. He crosses the room in a couple of long strides, instantly grabbing you by the shoulders, his eyes scanning you for any potential injuries.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks worriedly, watching you carefully.

“I’m fine. I promise.” You assure Tim quietly, smiling as he gently removes his hands from your shoulders and focuses on Kiara.

“I tried calling and y/n said you were still at work. I need to talk to you and y/n about something. Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Kiara says to Tim and you can see his expression become serious as he nods.

“Let’s find somewhere private,” Tim says, gesturing with his head for you to follow him which both you and Kiara do. He leads you both to one of the many interrogation rooms, flipping the signs to ‘occupied’ so people won’t come in before bringing you into the observation room, turning around to face Kiara, arms folding across his chest.

“What’s going on?” He says, staring at Kiara who wrings her hand, adjusting how she was standing to address both of you.

“So, we were under the impression that y/n had no family but recently an uncle has made himself known to us. He had been spending the last twenty years abroad and has recently moved back to the States and we managed to get into contact with him.” Kiara explains, watching as you and Tim begin to put the pieces together in your head.

“What does this mean? Is y/n going to be taken from my care?” Tim asks, trying not to let his worry become obvious as he talks.

“Since y/n’s uncle is open to the idea of possible reunification. We’re going to implement a reunification plan.” Kiara begins, watching your reactions carefully.

“Wait, don’t I get a say in this? What if I want to stay with Tim? I don’t know this guy.” You say, shocked tears filling your eyes at the sudden news.

“y/n, sweetie. It’ll just be for a couple of nights at a time. It’s a weekend at most. Just to scope things out.” Kiara says softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently, ceasing her actions when you move away from her, shaking your head.

“I can’t believe this.” You whisper, backing away from Kiara and rushing out of the room and heading out of the station. You found a bench just outside and sat down on it, pulling your knees up to your chest and crying softly. You hated that your opinion wasn’t being considered. You were happy with the life and routine you had living with Tim. Your life had already changed so much and now it was potentially going to be changing again.

“Hey, kid.” Tim’s soft voice says as you hear him easing himself down next to you on the bench. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, instead burying your face further into your knees.

“Why is she doing this?” Your voice was muffled but Tim could hear you, and his heart broke hearing you sound so defeated and upset.

“It sounds like it’s out of her control. Reunification is usually the end goal with foster care.” Tim says, trying to keep his voice soft for you. You then lift your head, turning to look at Tim with misty eyes.

“But why don’t I get a say? It’s my life.” You ask, a fresh tear slipping down your cheek as you lift your hand to harshly wipe it away.

“They just want you to try it. He is your uncle after all. Maybe after some time, you’ll get a choice. If you give it a try you’ll know how you feel for sure.” Tim says gently, resting a hand on your shoulder and tugging you carefully into his side which you accept, leaning against his side comfortably.

“Okay, I’ll try it.” You mumble as Tim squeezes you a little closer. Tim would never admit it out loud to you but he was scared for the reunification plan. He’d grown so accustomed to having you around and he was terrified that you’d like living with your uncle and move in on a permanent basis and he’d would be alone once more. But he wasn’t going to be the reason you didn’t reconnect with family.

“I was wondering where you two ran off to.” Kiara’s voice then speaks up, making you look in her direction, wiping at your eyes again to conceal your tears.

“Sorry, I just needed some air.” You mumble, moving away from Tim’s embrace slightly.

“It’s okay, y/n,” Kiara says, smiling softly at you.

“I’ll give it a try. I’ll spend weekends with my uncle.” You say, standing from the bench and addressing Kiara who nods.

“You’ll be with Tim during the week and you’ll spend Friday night through to Monday morning with your uncle. I’ve checked and approved his house as a suitable place for you to be living. We’ll trial it for a few weeks and then make a decision from there.” Kiara explains as you and Tim listen carefully, nodding along to each word she says. Despite your willingness to try this, you couldn’t shake the bad feeling you had about this whole situation.

When Friday afternoon came around your nerves were at an all-time high. The whole day at school you had been anxious and your friends had noticed but you didn’t tell them what it was that had you so nervous although you were sure they had chalked it down to you not having the conversation with Tim about you nearly calling him ‘Dad’ yet. You were sat on the sofa with Kojo curled up at your side as your knee bounced nervously. Tim was pacing, trying not to let his anxieties get the best of him. After about ten minutes of nervous waiting, there’s a knock on the door which has Tim striding over to the door and opening it to reveal your uncle on the other side.

“You must be Tim. I’m Steve.” Your uncle introduces himself to Tim, briefly shaking his hand before entering the house and quickly locating you. At the presence of your uncle, Kojo’s head shoots up and he stares at him for a moment before lowly growling.

“Kojo, shush.” You scold the dog quietly, stroking his head to calm him down and he soon settles back down, eyeing your uncle grumpily.

“So you must be y/n,” Steve says, smiling at you as you smile weakly in response, nodding to confirm.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You say quietly, standing from the sofa as Kojo grumbles.

“We should get a move on. We’ve got a fun weekend ahead of us.” Steve says, his smile offputting as you nod, picking your bag off the floor and crossing to Tim.

“You have everything you need?” Tim asks, looking down at you with a gentle gaze.

“Yeah.” You say with a nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you on Monday then,” Tim says softly, carefully bringing you into a hug which you’re quick to return.

“I’ll see you on Monday.” You mumble, hugging Tim a little tighter before letting go, smiling up at him, whispering goodbye to him and Kojo before turning to follow your uncle out of the house. The drive to Steve’s house was awkward, there was no conversation and every time you opened your mouth to attempt to start a conversation, Steve glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and you would quickly shut your mouth and focus back on the passing scenery. Soon enough, Steve parks his truck and turns to face you.

“Alright. Get out.” He says, an unexpected harshness to his voice, making you flinch slightly before nodding, scrambling to get out of the car. You grab your bag, hauling it out of the car and following behind Steve as he opens the front door, revealing the interior of his house. He had clearly only just moved in with how minimalist everything was and you had a feeling that it wouldn’t stay this tidy.

“Your room’s in the back to the right.” Steve then says gruffly, slamming the door behind him and heading straight to the fridge, grabbing a beer and popping the lid off before taking a swig and crossing to collapse on the sofa. You decide to follow his directions and hide away in your room, scared of how quickly your uncle’s personality had done a one-eighty in one car journey. When you got to your room, you pulled your phone out of your hoodie pocket, unlocked it and opened your contacts, thumb hovering over Tim’s contact. You knew if you called Tim and asked for help he’d be there in a heartbeat. But you didn’t want to jump the gun and make assumptions too quickly. Instead, you opened your texts and sent a message to Tim.

‘We’ve just arrived at Steve’s place.’

You barely glanced away from your phone for a second before your phone buzzed with a text message from Tim.

‘Good to hear. If you need anything you can call me or Kiara. Have a good weekend.’

You smiled a little upon reading Tim’s message, knowing he was only a phone call away was a huge weight off your shoulders. You weren’t sure you’d be willing to bother Tim but knowing he’d help you if you asked was comforting. You spend a moment scrolling through your camera roll, smiling at various pictures you had taken of Kojo, missing him already, and then your bedroom door flies open.

“Get your ass in the kitchen now.” Steve’s voice booms, making you jump, looking over at him with a terrified look as he points in the direction of the kitchen, making you jump up and scramble to head into the kitchen with Steve following close behind you.

“Is everything okay?” You ask nervously, shoving your phone in your pocket as you turn to face Steve who folds his arms across his chest.

“I’ll be okay if you can help me out,” Steve says, his stare cold.

“What do you need help with?” You ask, wondering why he’s acting like this.

“Rumour has it you went to that kid's home that got closed down recently. I know those kids from there know how to get some good stuff or at least know some contacts to get people in with the big drug dealers round here.” Steve says, watching as you shuffle awkwardly.

“I never got involved in anything like that.” You say nervously, suddenly fearing his reaction as his glare grows colder.

“So you’re telling me you don’t know a single person who could get me some damn drugs?” He asks harshly, stepping closer to you, towering over you as you take a small step back.

“Even if I did I wouldn’t know where to find them. Since the home closed all the kids got moved to other different homes. I’d have no idea where to start.” You partially lied. Of course, you knew which kids were involved with each big drug dealer in the area but you weren’t lying about not knowing where to find them. You had no idea what home each kid had been moved into. You hadn’t gotten along with any of them so you had no reason to maintain any sort of contact after Tim began fostering you.

“Well, you better start figuring it out. Give me your phone.” Steve demands, holding his hand out expectantly.

“What?” You question, hand moving to your pocket in a feeble attempt to shield your phone.

“Do you think I’m stupid? I know that guy you live with is a police officer and I don’t trust you not to go running to him the moment I leave you alone. If I have your phone I can guarantee you won’t tell him about what I want to do.” Steve asserts, nodding towards his hand before staring at you once more.

“I can’t figure out where people are without my phone.” You try weakly, scrambling at any excuse to keep your phone with you.

“That ship’s sailed. You’re useless to me right now. I’ll just have to look myself until next week when you get back to me with actual answers.” Steve says, taking another step closer as you feel your heartbeat pick up. Scared of what might happen if you continue to disobey Steve’s order, you pull your phone out of your pocket and hand it to him, flinching lightly when he snatches the phone away from you. As Steve turns around to grab himself another beer from the fridge, your eyes flick around the room, searching for a landline phone. Tim had ensured you had his number memorised so if you really needed to call him and didn’t have your phone you’d be able to call him from any phone. To your disappointment, you couldn’t locate a landline phone at all and you just knew that this weekend was not going to be what you thought. When Steve dismisses you harshly, you rush back to your room, sit on your bed and instantly dig through your bag for the book you had brought with you, desperate for some escapism. You felt like you had just been thrown back in time and you were back in the children’s home again, hiding from those who picked on you. As the afternoon pressed on into the evening, you felt your stomach rumbling as you curled up on the bed, willing it to be quiet. You were hungry but you weren’t willing to risk Steve telling you off or worse if you somehow did something wrong.

As you began to doze off, you heard the front door burst open and a new group of voices enter the house, all of them loudly welcoming Steve back to the States as they rummaged around in the kitchen for beers and snacks. You closed your eyes once more, attempting to get some sleep despite your rumbling stomach but the noise coming from the living room made it hard to fall asleep, especially when the music started to blast.

Back at Tim’s house, Tim was trying his best to herd Kojo away from your bedroom door as he made his own way to bed.

“Come on, man. y/n isn’t here, the room’s empty.” Tim says, attempting to coax Kojo away from the door but in defiance, Kojo lets out a long whine and scratches lightly against the door before lying down right in front of it. After standing and watching Kojo for a few minutes, Tim lets out a defeated sigh before crossing to your bedroom door, pushing it open and watching as Kojo rushes in, hopping up on your bed and curling up, contented. Tim watches Kojo quietly for a moment, a bittersweet smile on his face. Kojo wasn’t the only one who missed your presence around the house. Tim also found himself missing you. The house seemed quieter without you around and Tim found himself selfishly hoping you’d somehow hate your uncle so you’d choose to stay living with him. After shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tim crosses to the bed to stroke Kojo softly.

“You can stay in here. I know you miss her.” Tim says softly, before turning and making his way back to his own room for the night, making sure to leave your bedroom door open and then leaving his door open just in case Kojo decides to join him at any point.

After a whole night of tossing and turning, only managing to grab a couple of hours of sleep through brief sessions of dozing, you get up the next morning and head into the bathroom to freshen up and change. After sorting yourself out, you head out into the kitchen, nose wrinkling at the overwhelming stench of alcohol. You glanced around the room, searching for any sign of Steve being awake or nearby and with the confirmation he wasn’t awake or nearby, you searched through the cupboards for anything you could eat. You ended up finding half a loaf of bread and snuck a piece of bread, toasting it quickly and spreading some butter on before eating it as quickly as possible, darting back to your room as soon as you’re done to hide away so you wouldn’t be in Steve’s line of fire when he starts roaming the house.

The rest of your weekend was spent cowering in your room, hearing Steve stomping around the house, drinking the day away and then inviting all his friends over and keeping you awake all night long with their loud music and conversation. By the time Monday came around you were ready to get out of the house. Since you knew Steve had been drinking all night you had no expectations in getting a lift from him to school so you knew you’d be getting the bus and then walking. As you left your room, bag on your shoulder, you found your phone on the counter, shocked that Steve had the decency to return it to you but you couldn’t forget his warning. Rushing to get out of the house before you miss the bus, you grab your phone off the counter, shoving it in your pocket and exiting the house making your way to the nearest bus stop.

Getting through the day felt like a chore, you were exhausted and hungry. Lunch was a well-needed break to refuel and rest but it wasn’t enough. Your friends had definitely picked up on your low energy but you reassured them with a smile that you had just had a long weekend and needed a good night's sleep. Thankfully your friends didn’t pry any further into it and you were able to get through the rest of the school day and you just couldn’t wait to get home.

When you got home, a smile grew on your face as you drew closer to the door. It felt like a breath of fresh air returning to the house you had grown to love in a few short months. As you put your key in the lock and turned it, your smile grew as you heard the tapping of claws against hardwood, signalling to you that Kojo was making his way to the door to investigate your arrival.

“Hey, buddy!” You greet Kojo enthusiastically as soon as you’re in the house, crouching down to be at his level, laughing as he jumps all over you, pushing you to the floor and smothering you in kisses.

“I know. I missed you too.” You say, your smile not fading as you pet Kojo, so overwhelmingly happy to see him again. After Kojo had calmed down enough for you to sit up, you decide to take him on a walk, going to his favourite park and playing plenty of games with him before returning back home. Upon reaching the house, you felt exhaustion setting into every part of you. You let Kojo into the house, kicked your shoes off and crossed to the living room couch, collapsing on it and turning the tv on to watch whatever was on. You stretched out across the sofa, slipping a cushion under your head as you watched the random show you had put on. As you lay there, Kojo hopped up on the couch, wiggling his way alongside you as you threw an arm over him, not caring that his body was taking up most of the space. As you continued to watch the tv, you felt your eyelids growing heavier with each passing second, each blink longer than the last. Eventually, the need for sleep wins out and you begin to doze off, feeling safe and surrounded by peace and quiet.

When Tim got home, he was surprised that Kojo had not immediately come barrelling his way to greet him, and neither had you. As Tim closed the door behind him, he heard faint sounds coming from the living room and he rounded the corner to find you fast asleep on the sofa with Kojo under your arm. Unlike you, Kojo was wide awake, staring at Tim with perked-up ears, signalling that he was happy to see Tim.

“Hey, Kojo. Everything okay?” Tim asks Kojo quietly, petting Kojo softly. After greeting Kojo, Tim gently reaches out and shakes your shoulder enough to rouse you.

“Hey, kid. Busy weekend?” Tim asks softly, smiling as you blink your eyes open and bury your face back into the cushion.

“I guess.” You mumble, the tiredness obvious in your voice as your eyes slip shut again.

“You hungry?” Tim then asks, watching as you nod, eyes opening once more.

“Starving.” You admit, hand running up and down Kojo’s back as he lets out a small happy sigh, nuzzling further into you.

“Okay, you get some more rest. I’ll wake you up when dinner is ready.” Tim says, grabbing the remote and turning the tv off as you nod lightly, eyes closing again while Tim turns to head to the kitchen. You continued to nap peacefully with Kojo keeping a watchful eye on you while Tim cooked, deciding to make your favourite meal to welcome you back. He had been concerned over the weekend due to the lack of messages he got from you but he just convinced himself that you were having a good time with your uncle. He had attempted to do some digging into your uncle’s history to see if he had a criminal record and couldn’t find anything which reassured him slightly that you were in good hands but it didn’t make him feel any more at ease about where you’d be living in the future. When Tim finishes cooking, he heads back to the living room and gently rouses you once more. You wake up with a bit more energy than you had earlier and you were ready to eat dinner so you follow Tim into the kitchen to plate up your food before sitting at the table, digging in almost instantly.

“This is amazing, Tim.” You say gratefully.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were starving, huh?” Tim muses lightly, lifting his drink to his lips to take a sip.

“Had a busy weekend. Used a lot of energy.” You lie, shrugging before continuing to eat your food.

“That’s good to hear. Do you get along with your uncle?” Tim then asks, trying to make the question seem innocent while he tries to gauge how you feel about spending time with your uncle.

“He’s okay, I guess.” You shrug, not ready to tell Tim about your uncle’s activities although your brain was screaming at you to tell him everything. But everything still felt awkward after you almost called him ‘Dad’ so you felt like you had to tread on ice around Tim to keep things as normal as possible.

“There’s not any problems, is there?” Tim asks, glancing up at you and watching as you shake your head.

“No. No problems. I’m just getting used to everything.” You say, poking slightly at your food. You felt guilty for lying to Tim, especially given that your uncle wanted to use you to get drugs. You knew Tim would help you out if you asked him to, but you were terrified that if Steve did get arrested, he’d hurt Tim and you couldn’t live with that on your conscience.

“If anything happens, you know you can tell me, right?” Tim asks softly, having a slight feeling that something isn’t right but not wanting to push too hard.

“I know. And I appreciate that. It’s just weird growing up thinking I had no family and then all of a sudden I have an uncle pop out of nowhere, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it.” You say with a small smile, finishing the last of your food before sitting back, full and satisfied. After finishing your meal and waiting for Tim to do the same, you put your plate and cup away in the dishwasher before a yawn slips past your lips.

“I might crash early, I’m still tired.” You admit quietly, smiling as Kojo sidles up alongside you.

“That’s fine. You do sound tired. Go and rest up, kid.” Tim says with a gentle smile before quietly bidding you goodnight as you head to your room, Kojo following behind you loyally. Once you’ve gotten yourself ready for bed you bury yourself under your duvet with Kojo curling up at the end of your bed and you fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.

By the time the next Friday afternoon rolled around, you felt even more nervous than you did the prior week. You hadn’t done any research into who could put Steve into contact with the big drug dealers. You knew if word got out that you had helped Steve find drugs, it would reflect badly on Tim and you’d rather accept whatever punishment Steve had in store than Tim get in trouble for what you did. When Steve arrived at the door, he was once again greeted by Tim and so plastered on his ‘nice guy’ persona and you longed to expose the type of man he really was. Kojo once again growled lowly at Steve’s presence and while you wished you could allow Kojo to do so, you had to get him to quieten down. Once Steve beckoned for you to follow him, you crossed to Tim, ready to say goodbye.

“Have a good weekend kid. Call me if you need anything. No matter the time.” Tim whispers, hugging you close as you squeeze back softly.

“Really?” You whisper back, not ready to break the hug just yet.

“Really. If you need me, I’ll be there.” Tim says reassuringly, giving you one final squeeze before releasing you from the hug. Once you step back from the embrace, you whisper a quiet goodbye before following Steve out to his car, prepping yourself for what might be to come.

The moment Steve parks outside his house, he turns to look at you, an expectant look on his face.

“So, did you find anything?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as you clear your throat nervously.

“I couldn’t get through to anyone on social media.” You lie, fighting the urge to fiddle with your fingers so Steve wouldn’t catch on to your lies.

“You really are fucking useless, aren’t you? No fucking wonder my brother wanted nothing to do with you.” Steve says angrily, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind him while you scramble to follow behind him, not wanting to be locked out.

“What about your friends? Do they not know anyone?” You ask, wondering if the people who had spent the weekend would know anyone.

“Of course they do. I wanted to get in with the big dealers and you’ve fucked that up for me.” He says, fury evident in his voice as you both enter the house. You longed to correct him, to tell him that the kids you knew in the home would’ve only been lowly members of their gangs and drug groups. None of them would’ve been on speaking terms with the big dealers in the area. But you didn’t dare voice that to Steve, he was already pissed off enough with your failure and you didn’t dare poke the bear further. So instead you elect to head to your room, ready to hide away for the weekend but Steve soon calls out to you.

“Phone. Now. You know the rules.” He says, arm outstretched and hand open as he waits for you to give him your phone. You begrudgingly pull your phone out of your pocket and place it in Steve’s hand, wishing you had the strength to stand up to him. Once he snatches the phone from you, you turn tail and return to your room, ready for another long weekend.

The Friday night was nothing different to the previous weekend, Steve’s friends had come around and they spent the night getting drunk and high while blasting music. But Saturday night was different.

The whole day had been a bad one, Steve had caught you trying to sneak food, trying to leave the house to buy food, whatever you tried he somehow caught you in the process. As evening fell you knew Steve was in the worst mood possible and even when his friends began to arrive, his mood still wasn’t improving. You remained in your room, listening to the yells as he and his friends watched the football game and the more you had to listen to him getting angrier and angrier, the more you just wanted to get out of this house. Eventually, around the early hours of the morning, when the outside got quieter, you knew everyone had passed out so you could sneak out into the house and find your phone. You made a beeline for Steve’s room, unsurprised to find it empty, knowing he was likely asleep in the living room. You rummaged through drawers, eventually finding your phone hidden in his bedside table. Once you had the phone in your possession, you shoved it into your pocket and bolted out of the room and just as you made it to your bedroom door, you heard footsteps behind you.

“What are you doing?” You whip around to see Steve standing before you, arms folded across his chest as he glared down at you.

“I just needed to use the bathroom.” You stammer, slowly trying to back towards your bedroom door, your nose wrinkling with the overwhelming stench of alcohol coming from Steve.

“I’m so fucking fed up with you. You’ve been testing me all day. I think it’s time I taught you a lesson.” Steve says lowly, making you bolt into your room, locking the door behind you as you begin to hear Steve pounding on the door. You scramble to hide in the closet, pulling out your phone and calling Tim.

Tim woke up the moment he heard his phone ringing. His hand reached for his phone before his eyes were even open but the moment he opened his eyes and saw your name displayed across his phone, he picked up the call instantly.

“y/n, is everything okay?” Tim asks worriedly, already beginning to sit up in bed.

“Tim…” Your voice was thick with tears and Tim was immediately leaping out of bed and scrambling to get changed.

“y/n/n, talk to me, kid. What’s wrong?” Tim urges softly, unlocking his safe and grabbing his off-duty weapon as well as his radio.

“Steve is drunk, and probably high too and he- I upset him…” You say, more tears slipping down your cheeks and when you pause, Tim hears violent shouts and pounding on the door and he knows he has to help you.

“Okay, can you send me your location? I’m coming to get you.” Tim says, making his way to the front door. His phone soon pings and when he checks his phone he sees your location displayed.

“Please hurry Tim.” You whisper, trembling as Steve continues to pound on the door.

“I’m coming, kid. Are you hiding somewhere?” Tim asks as he grabs his truck keys.

“I’m hiding in the closet and I locked my bedroom door.” You say, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“That’s good. Now, don’t open your door or anything until you hear me tell you it’s safe to come out. Got it?” Tim instructs.

“Okay.” You reply, sniffling slightly as you try to wipe the never-ending tears away. You hear Tim radio for help and the sounds of him getting in his truck. Tim stayed on the phone the whole way to your location, meeting the night shift officers who responded to his radio for help.

“y/n, I’m going to hang up now. Remember what I said.” Tim warns, bidding you a quiet goodbye before ending the call and crossing to the officers who were beginning to get ready to raid the house.

“We’ve got to get in there. My kid’s in there.” Tim says, approaching the officers while checking his gun.

“Do we know how many people are in the house Officer Bradford?” One of them asks, glancing over at Tim.

“Other than y/n I know there’s at least one other person in the house and he’s the threat. I want to get y/n out of there right now.” Tim says firmly, not wanting to waste time when he knows you’re in danger. Thankfully, the officers had finished getting ready and so they breached the house, stirring all the passed-out occupants and while they got rounded up, Tim went in search of you. He made his way through the house, gun in hand as he followed the shouts and slams, eventually finding Steve standing outside your bedroom door, a knife glistening under the hall light.

“Drop the knife!” Tim yells, holding his gun up as Steve turns around to face him, the anger evident on his face.

“Oh, that bitch.” He growls angrily, turning around to pound his fist against the door a couple more times.

“Hey. Drop the knife now.” Tim repeats his instruction, gun still expertly trained on Steve.

“Make me.” Steve taunts, glancing over his shoulder with a menacing grin before focusing his attention back on your bedroom door. At Steve’s taunt, Tim decides he’s had enough. He knew it was the opposite of a good idea to charge someone with a knife but judging from the stench all around the house, Tim had a feeling Steve was intoxicated with both drugs and alcohol. Tim’s aggressive charge sent both men clear through the bedroom door and caused Steve to drop the knife he had been clutching. Due to Steve’s intoxication, Tim was easily able to gain the upper hand and forced Steve onto his stomach, pulling his arms behind his back and handcuffing him.

“You’re under arrest,” Tim says firmly, fighting not to let satisfaction sneak into his voice as he straightened up just as another police officer entered the room.

“The house is clear.” The officer says, hauling Steve to his feet and beginning to lead him out while Steve swears and glares.

“Good. Now get him out of here.” Tim says, glancing around the room and locating the closet you had said you were hiding in as the officer led Steve out of the room.

“y/n, it’s safe to come out now,” Tim says softly and at his words, you come barrelling out of the closet and straight into Tim’s outstretched arms. When he feels your legs buckle, he eases the two of you to the ground, holding you close, one hand braced on the back of your head as he holds you.

“I was so scared, Dad.” You whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cling to him. Tim heard what you had called him but he chose not to bring attention to it, knowing you just needed comfort in that moment.

“You did the right thing by calling me. He’s not going to get near you again.” Tim vows, cradling you impossibly closer as you tremble in his arms.

“I should’ve told you sooner. But I was so scared that you’d get hurt.” You say quietly, squeezing your eyes shut as they begin to sting from the amount of tears building in your eyes.

“Hey, let me worry about myself. It’s my job to worry about you, not the other way around.” Tim assures you softly, glancing over his shoulder when he hears footsteps behind him and unconsciously holds you closer.

“Officer Bradford. We need to take a statement from y/n. Is that okay?” The officer that is standing in the doorway asks tentatively as Tim lets out a small sigh. He knew it was protocol, and that it was best for you to give a statement soon after the events since they’re still fresh but he wasn’t prepared to have to leave your side for it. Just as Tim opens his mouth to ask for a little bit more time, you speak up.

“I’ll do it.” You say quietly, pulling away from the embrace slightly to look up at Tim, offering him a small, teary smile to reassure him you’d be okay. Tim regards you for a second before sighing softly and nodding.

“You head outside to give your statement. I’ll gather your stuff.” Tim says, getting to his feet and helping you up in the process. You nod shyly at his words before Tim pulls you into a quick reassuring hug before letting you follow the police officer outside to give your statement. Once you’re gone from sight, Tim focuses on packing your belongings, putting everything in your bag and slinging it over his shoulder once the bag is fully packed. Tim then exits the house, slowly approaching the group of police cars, and sees you standing opposite a police detective, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you recount every event of what had happened earlier. Tim watched from a distance, making sure you could see him but he kept enough distance so he couldn’t hear what was being said. Eventually, the detective says something and you nod before crossing over to Tim, cheeks still tear-stained but you have stopped crying.

“You all done?” Tim asks quietly, holding you gently by the shoulders.

“Yeah. The detective said I might need to give more statements if they need more but they said they’d speak to you first about anything.” You say lifting your hand to wipe at your cheeks fiercely.

“Let’s get you home. I know Kojo’s missing you.” Tim says, attempting to lighten the mood a little, smiling when he sees a small smile appear on your face.

“I miss him too.” You say as Tim releases your shoulders, instead wrapping an arm around you to guide you to his truck. You get into the truck, just wanting to go home and forget everything that had happened. The drive was filled with the rumble of the engine and the radio playing lowly as you watched the world go by. When you finally get home, you were exhausted yet you didn’t want to go to sleep. Tim unlocked the front door and Kojo was soon greeting you at the door, whining happily as you greeted him with a smile.

“I might stay up a little while. I want to take my mind off everything.” You say quietly as Tim closes the front door behind him, both of you kicking your shoes off.

“Do you want some company? I’m happy to stay up with you.” Tim offers, making a small smile appear on your face.

“That would be nice. I was going to watch a lighthearted movie or something. Is that okay?” You ask, nervous as to what Tim’s response might be.

“That’s fine. Whatever you need to do to decompress after tonight is your choice.” Tim says with a soft smile, making you let out a soft sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” You say softly, both you and Tim then crossing to the living room and settling on the couch as you turn the tv on, opening a streaming site and searching for a movie to watch.

“Hey, y/n, before we start the movie. Could I talk to you about something?” Tim says, finally getting the courage to speak to you about the topic he’d been holding off on for two weeks now.

“What is it?” You ask, putting the remote down and leaning back on the couch.

“A couple of weeks ago when I dropped you off at school, before all this stuff with Steve, you said bye to me on your way out of the truck and it sounded like you almost called me ‘Dad’ before you corrected yourself. And then you called me ‘Dad’ again earlier tonight.” Tim explains, keeping his voice soft so you don’t get the wrong idea. As Tim talks, you feel your cheeks heat up, you knew about your slip-up at school but you had no recollection of actually calling him dad earlier.

“I’m so sorry. I know it’s probably not what you want. I won’t do it again.” You say, apologising as you reach out to pet Kojo to distract yourself.

“Don’t apologise. It’s actually an honour that you see me as a father figure. I think of you as my own daughter. You can call me whatever makes you comfortable. And if ‘Dad’ is something you’re comfortable with calling me. Then that’s okay with me.” Tim says, seeing the small smile that grows across your face as you nod, thanking Tim quietly before he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Now, let’s watch this movie shall we?” Tim then says, scooping the remote off the coffee table and hitting play on the movie you had queued up before settling back on the sofa. As the movie progresses, Tim becomes aware of you yawning and while he knew you weren’t ready to go to your own bed for the night, he didn’t want to deny you the space to stretch out on the sofa.

“You know, if you want to lie down you can. I don’t mind.” Tim says softly, drawing your attention away from the tv for a second as you tilt your head slightly.

“Are you sure?” You ask, wanting to be sure Tim was okay with it.

“Positive,” Tim says softly, grabbing the blanket from behind him and laying it over you as you settle across the sofa, laying your head against his leg, curling up while you focused on the screen. Over the next twenty minutes, you felt your eyelids grow heavy and while you would’ve normally fought to stay awake, you were comforted by the presence of both Tim and Kojo. You knew you were safe and that Tim wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt you. Comforted by those thoughts, you allowed yourself to slowly fall asleep.

It took Tim a few minutes to realise you had fallen asleep. It was only when he realised how quiet you had fallen that he thought to check on you and he softened when he saw you asleep. After the conversation he had with you about calling him ‘Dad’, he couldn’t help but care for you even more. Growing up, Tim’s only example of a dad was his own pathetic excuse of a father so Tim had grown up terrified that he was bound to go down a similar path, but since fostering you, Tim had discovered that being a father was something that came naturally to him and he proved to himself that he was nothing like the man who raised him. After watching you for a moment, Tim lets out a gentle sigh before reaching for his phone, opening his texts and finding Kiara’s number, typing out a message to her before hitting send.

‘I want to move forward with adopting y/n.’

taglist (comment or ask to be added):

@starlightandsouls @whirlwind2005

[esotericpluto]

what will the rest of 2024 bring you

from left to right; intuitively choose the pile you feel more connected to. To make it easier, you can take a deep breathe, close your eyes and ask for guidance to your deities or guides. These are all general messages, so just take what resonates and leave what doesn't. This reading is timeless. If it resonates, feedback is always appreciated and motivates to keep doing pick a card readings. You can donate here.

pile 1

for who chose this pile, I see some solitude, but not in the way that you will feel lonely. You will overjoy yourself in this alone time, you will use it to improve yourself, to work on your desired skills, to work on your projects. Where there is this positive self-isolation, there is also a will to thrive and succeed. A moment to keep things to yourself only until after you succeed and complete your plans.

This will ultimately protect you and I see finances increasing for you soon, to the point some of you will be achieving a new milestone with this money, maybe buying a house or a new car. For some of you it could even be starting to plan the trip of your dreams.

I feel like some of you might have a friend you will have to be very careful about. I would recommend you to cut them off or stop talking to them around in September. This person I feel like won't be truly happy about your achievements and will be secretly jealous and envious, to the point it could translate into sending the evil eye to you. Please be careful and protect yourself.

I also feel like you might try some new foods you will truly enjoy and I also think you will be able to go to some restaurants you always had on your go-to list. I feel this happening in November/December.

I am not seeing much regarding love, so I feel like the situation might not change for most of you. If it does change for somenof you, it will be a positive change, like meeting someone new but that I feel like you will be unsure about them due to fears of getting hurt.

I also see someone with books, so I definitely recommend you to start reading or at least read more than you currently do. I also see you might take some free online courses and you are being highly advised and guided to do so, it will benefit you a lot! If you plan on going back to studying in university or similar, then it seems like it is a very good path for you to take this year!

pile 2

I feel some sadness and heaviness in this pile, which seems to come from the loss of someone or something, but mostly someone. It could be something that has happened or still will this year. I see this being something that lingers in you for quite a bit, but you will find ways to deal with it and pick yourself up, which will eventually lead to your healing. Remember to be kind and compassionate with yourself.

In this time, i see you focusing on self-care (or this might be the recommendation of your guides), I recommend taking breaks for yourself, giving yourself love, relaxing, pampering yourself, even attending therapy just to have a healthy place to vent out at (I know some people might be scared of therapists, but I feel like 99.5% of you will definitely end up with a really good therapist, your intuition will definitely help you in this case).

I do also see your intuition being extremely heightened for the rest of this year and I see you really understand the extension it goes to, unlike you have seen it before. It will also help you understand yourself and even certain situations better. This will definitely help you with self-love and self-confidence a lot and will help you coming out of your shell.

I do see most of the year being kept to yourself mostly, which will be the best for you to focus on yourself. I also see you picking up on some new hobbies and I feel like for some you, maybe in 2025, these hobbies could become something more like a side business or even main business.

You will gain more trust in yourself and I see you also taking care of your inner child. I feel like with your inner child the work won't be 100% complete this year, but you will have a 90% proggress and feel better than you have.

The message here seems clear, most of our lives we spend in hurry but this remaining half of year is for you to rest, to stop, to listen and to be in the present, with yourself as company. This seems what is needed for you to enjoy your own company truly, to no longer be scared of being alone.

pile 3

If you've had family quarrels recently, I feel like you will be able to distance yourself from that sooner or later this year. This to some of you may signify a newfounded independence from your family and being able to truly make it on your own.

If you are wondering on whether you should take a new job offer/position or start a business, it is definitely a yes. I do see this business flourishing this year. Same for those who have already started their own business, the second half of this year promises success and abundance. You might even be able to start affording a lot of things you previously could not. It will feel like a true recompensation after years of endurance and suffering for various reasons. It feels like those days are over, except for the occasional annoyance/bad days.

I do see some dates for those who are still single. You might be on dating apps and I see you will be going on a few casual dates. With some of them, there might be some kisses exchanges, but I don't see it becoming more than that (unless you want of course), until the very ending of this year, in which I feel like you will fall in love.

For people who are in a serious relationship, this is good news. I see some hardships, especially if financial, being over for good. You will be able to start a new chapter.

If one of you gets an invitation to gamble, I highly advise to decline it at all costs, as it won't have a good outcome. If your partner has some sort of gambling addiction, then I think you will have enough and leave them this year, because you won't settle for that financial ruin and you should not. So in this case, you will also have your financial harships done for and start a new, happier chapter.

Some of you, especially already married couples or couples who have been living together for a longer time, might actually start a family this year in an unplanned or half-planned way. I feel like it will be a slightly scary experience, but if you decide to move forward with it, I feel like you will handle things swiftly and be unexpectedly happy.

Make sure to eat healthy and take care if yourself. I see some of you starting to going to the gym or pilates classes and actually putting your mind to having a slightly healthier lifestyle.

[queenburd]

Hi, yes, I know it's been a minute since I wrote fic. it's been a long year. have this. Happy holidays.

-----

I don’t know how to explain to you that the Parable is both a prison and a home, so instead I’ll say this:

The Narrator has been trying to make changes.

Not big changes, mind you! Not to the story, and not to the structure of the place. Endings remain untouched, halls stay as they are, going where they have always gone except for when the game decides they should go someplace else. The Narrator leaves it all in place, because why fix something that’s not broken?

No. No, it’s small things he’s trying to change. The painting in Stanley’s office. The textures of the chairs.

Let’s talk about that.

See, Stanley isn’t happy. This is abundantly clear, in the way he walks about the office—sometimes bored, sometimes irritated, but mostly… lost. There’s vacancy in his eyes. He’s walking just to do something. He doesn’t have anywhere to go, and while this can fill him with a deep-seated anger, lately it’s been making him…

Rather morose.

And this is a problem, for the Narrator.

It isn’t just that he wants Stanley to follow the story (although that would be nice, wouldn’t it), but he struggles to properly grasp why the quiet misery eats at him. Perhaps—perhaps he feels inadequate? He certainly thrives off positive feedback, and withers when criticized before striking with a sharper tongue than he means to. Or maybe, maybe he worries that Stanley isn’t truly… hearing him? Isn’t responding to him. That certainly doesn’t sit right with the Narrator.

And yet, for all that these are genuine, selfish reasons the Narrator has to feel bothered by Stanley’s dismal attitude, none of it really grips at the core of him. None of it captures the reality he’s still trying to come to grips with.

He wants Stanley to be happy. If… if Stanley isn’t happy, then the world is wrong.

And the Narrator must fix it.

So! The changes. Yes. You know, he thought it would be simple enough to change the textures of the chairs in the office, to start. They’re only office chairs, after all. And they look terribly uncomfortable, Stanley is always trying to stretch out his lower back when he stands from a reset, surely the Narrator can make them a bit more plush? A bit more, er, ergonomic, that’s the word! More comfortable. With armrests!

It can’t be so hard to edit the model.

Er, tangent, completely unrelated, really, don’t look too hard into it—have you ever seen a video game asset clip and break into the floor with such a violence that it threatens to throw the assets around it into a warped amalgam of broken and stretched textures?

Okay, have you ever seen every single type of that asset on a map try to do this at the same time?

The entire office seemed to jitter, and Stanley had run nearly all the way to the two doors room before a violent reset had returned their world into its normalcy.

“I swear, Stanley, I wasn’t trying to kill you! I was trying to—I just—I wanted to—oh, but it was supposed to be a surprise—oh, what’s the use. The cat’s gone and killed itself in the bag.”

It's an unmitigated disaster, one that threatens to completely overtake him and make him throw in the towel, but Stanley sees his new painting (nothing special, simply one of the other assets already in the office), and he—he touches it simply with the tips of two fingers, and he sort of smiles a crooked half-smile, and.

If the Narrator can make that smile happen again, isn’t it worth trying?

(The painting changes out every handful of resets, and Stanley—he always taps it just once, when it does. An acknowledgment. But it’s not enough, it’s not nearly enough!)

Alright, so, back to the drawing board on the chairs. In the meantime, what else? Office decor? The Narrator kicks around the idea of balloons for a bit, but he shelves it. It might be tacky, and there’s so many options on what they might say. Perhaps desk displays! Yes, more variety in the office. He’s not technically meant to let Stanley play Solitaire, since it distracts from the story, but, you know, to hell with it. Solitaire, and Minesweeper, the Narrator even considers a rare Mahjong game before he forcibly reminds himself that minimal is good, and these types of computer would not have it, and really, Mahjong is a little above Stanley’s mental faculties, isn’t it?

Alright, so technically, none of these spawn at Stanley’s computer—it’s important that his monitor display the lack of orders. But his coworkers, well, maybe a couple of them are slouching off, the Narrator excuses. And hell, maybe, if Stanley ever asks, the Narrator can let him play in office 427 and. And…

Oh, what’s he thinking? Giving Stanley other games to play, when his is supposed to be the star? What’s he doing?

He’s… is this fixing it? Is this making it more bearable for Stanley? (Is his game really so bad to play that Stanley would play other games instead?)

Stanley sees the monitors, and he pokes at the games, but he says little and the Narrator doesn’t address them, too afraid of the answer he’ll get. And eventually, Stanley returns to wandering the halls and playing the game made for him.

Is… is that a failure? Is that success? The Narrator can’t tell.

Focus. Try to focus. Remember why this is so important. His memory is faulty (a fact that still frightens him), but he still holds right to the fundamental point, even when the thought of Stanley’s near-smile distorts and becomes distant. The point. The point is happiness. The point is Stanley’s happiness. That’s what the story is about, right? That’s what he wrote.

A quarter appears on Stanley’s desk, unannounced. It lasts through the reset following that run’s ending, and the reset after that. When he finds the second quarter, left unceremoniously by a mug in the meeting room, he pockets it. When the reset hits, it sits on top of the first quarter, by the phone in his office.

The Narrator comments on none of it, and pretends the air does not grow thick with anticipation each time Stanley stops in place and examines the tiny, unassuming things, hardly out of place save for the mere fact they were not there before.

In this way, Stanley finds small change throughout the building’s many twists and turns, until after many many resets, the final quarter appears on a low coffee table in the lounge.

And, one ending later, Stanley is dropping his small hoard into the thin slot on the vending machine. Each coin makes a satisfying cla-chunk, a noise the Narrator is exceptionally proud of implementing so perfectly.

And then…

Stanley chooses a beverage. The machine gives another very satisfying ca-clunk as it drops a small can with a green label at his feet. The label is nondescript, just like the blurry options on the vending machine, but there you are. The Narrator watches with bated breath as Stanley picks up the can…

And waves it above his head, scowling.

“Mm?” The fellow tries to come off as unbothered. Distracted. Uninterested. “What? What’s that you’ve got, then? Oh, it’s a can of soda! What a stroke of luck you’ve had, getting a drink from a machine that purportedly doesn’t work! Surely, things are turning up in your favor.”

Stanley continues to scowl, which is…. Befuddling. Shouldn’t he be delighted by this?

“And what exactly is the problem? Got the wrong flavor, have you?”

The lines deepen on the office worker’s face. No, no, this isn’t right! A hand moves to ask a question, in line with the clear irritated query he offers the Narrator—

[ What the hell is this? ]

“Hmph. I already said what it is, or are you really intent on not listening to me? It appears to be one of your classic canned beverages, chilled of course, like it says on the machine.”

[ I know that, ] Stanley insists, [ but it’s not supposed to work. You changed it, didn’t you? ]

Ah, now’s the time to take the credit, to accept the praise and preen a bit under it, before humbling oneself politely. To offer it as a sign of generosity, yes!

“Well, I certainly can’t deny that I had a hand in the matter of getting the machine to function! It really did take a bit of figuring out, but I think the effort was worth it in the end to get something that really—“

Stanley cuts him off with a motion from both arms, like an X in front of his body before slicing through the air. His grimace remains.

[ Why? ]

There’s no gratitude. There’s no joy. There’s only a deep distrust, and the Narrator flounders in the face of it.

“Why? Well I—I thought—well I just thought it might make for a, a nice change. A little mini game maybe, I don’t know! Honestly, I thought you’d be more grateful about this, Stanley, you’re always in here prodding at the machine despite my repeated comments that it’s just a textured box—isn’t this what you wanted?”

[ Since when has what I want mattered? You just want praise. That’s why you’ve been changing things in the office, isn’t it? You want to make your stupid office setting more realistic. ]

It shouldn’t hurt, really, but it does anyway. To be told that his intentions aren’t genuine, to be told he has ulterior motives—and, worse, to wonder if Stanley is correct. Is this another selfish attempt on his part? Is this just a way to make himself feel better? To, perhaps, offload his guilt?

The Narrator fumbles, and then he falls back on his tried-and-true technique—he pushes back. He’s not proud, but it’s so instinctive, don’t you see?

“Now look here. Don’t you pretend you haven’t appreciated a break from what you yourself have described as the monotony. You’re actively gaining something out of this, there’s no need to be so ungrateful about it! Can’t you appreciate the work I’m putting in for you, for once?”

An accusatory finger pointed up at the ceiling, almost in victory. Stanley shakes the can still in his hand, and throws it at the wall between two paintings. It near about explodes.

“Oh, now look what you’ve done! All that hard work, all that change, and for what?! A smear on a wall. Great job, Stanley. You really showed me.” There’s a sneer in his voice. He’s angry. He’s upset. He’s been rejected again.

He just doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong.

“What do you want to hear, that I changed a few paintings and added a few features and made an entirely new mechanic, just for you to pump up my ego? Do you really think so little of me, or that I care so much for your opinion of me? Is it really so hard to believe that I just wanted to try to ease your misery?”

Stanley stares at the smear on the wall with a furrowed brow, his eyes dark and his mouth a grim line. The Narrator just keeps talking, like he can’t stop. He just can’t stop.

“Look at me, I’m Stanley, I’m trapped in an office building with only a narrator for company, and he’s so awful, really! He wrote me a whole story where I end up happy and he tries to get along with me but he’s just so terrible, he lets me play games that aren’t the one he made just for me, what a horrible fellow!”

Stanley covers his ears but that’s never helped. He storms out of the lounge and then across the maintenance room, and then through the meeting room into the closet. The door doesn’t slam behind him but it’s a near thing.

“Yes! Fine! Go into your little room where I can’t see you, who wants to talk to you anyhow?! Who wants to engage with someone who outright refuses to accept a gift offered to him?! Not me. I have better things to do with my time."

It will be a couple hours before Stanley leaves the broom closet. When he goes to the Freedom ending, it’s a clear attempt at a peace offering—but it’s obvious from both his slow steps through the mind control facility and the lack of drama in the Narrator’s voice that neither of their hearts are in it.

The Narrator is not proud. And he takes away all the changes he made, not as a punishment, but because they were stupid. It was stupid of him to try to make this place better. It’s never going to be better and he’s never going to be more than the fellow keeping Stanley here.

He can’t make Stanley happy, can he? He can’t be enough. Of course he would never be enough.

Stanley wanders through the building again, and again. The Narrator says his lines best as he can, but he know his performance is slipping. The tired, lost look returns to Stanley’s face.

-

“Do I remember the Confusion Ending?” the Narrator repeats, when Stanley prods him after a reset at some point. “Er… no, no let me think for a moment—that’s the one with a LineTM? I think? Yes, I have a note here somewhere on that,” he says, feeling more confident, “although I don’t think you and I have ever found it, so—oh. No? That’s not right? We’ve… we’ve done that one?”

Stanley nods.

“Oh.”

The voice makes a noise, like a throat clearing.

“Did we, um, did we just do that one?”

Stanley nods again.

“Oh. That’s…. I see.”

It never ceases to unsettle the voice. It tries to power through, best as it can.

“Is there um, is there any particular reason you’re asking?”

Stanley seems to think this over. He signs, cautiously, [ You say some things. I was never sure if you actually meant them, or if it was another joke at my expense. ]

“What sort of things do I supposedly say, then? Maybe I can clear up any—aheh, aheheh, confusion, I suppose.”

Stanley doesn’t smile at the joke, though his mouth does a complicated thing. He warily opens up the shape of his memories, and the Narrator brushes a metaphorical finger across a metaphorical page. The voice tries, tries terribly hard, to let it roll naturally over the both of them instead of forcing them through the ordeal.

(Remembering a memory and reliving a memory, they’re not supposed to be so different. Still, you don’t feel like you have hindsight in this way. You’re in that moment, same as you had been, without being quite able to separate yourself from it.)

“Just me and Stanley, forging a new path, a new story! Well, it could be anything! What do you want our story to be?”

When the voice is itself again, its fingers drawn back from the page, it finds itself somewhere just left of shaken. Composure. The Narrator must find his composure.

“Well, that’s… that was certainly an, um, an enlightening experience!” he tries. “I guess that explains the Adventure Line™️ that I’ve found in the files. I had wondered when I would need to use that feature.”

Stanley is looking at the ground.

“Well… what’s wrong? It—oh, yes, you were asking me—“

[ Even if you meant it then, I don’t think you mean it now, ] Stanley signs, and no, no that just won’t do.

“Would you even let me finish speaking before you come to some kind of foregone conclusion! For goodness’s sake, Stanley—“

The Narrator sighs. Melancholy overtakes him, when he speaks again.

“I’m trying to make you understand, I’ve been trying and trying but I just can’t seem to get through to you. Stanley, my story ends with you being happy.”

There’s a vicious snap of the head up as Stanley visibly prepares to retort.

“No, please let me finish, I’m not done! I’m trying to make a point here! I’m… I’m trying to explain.”

Stanley, still visibly unhappy, holds his metaphorical tongue.

“The point… the point, Stanley, is your happiness. I know you don’t believe me, and, and I know that what you want more than anything is to leave. Believe me, if I could give you what you want, I would! If it were in my power, I, well I—“

(”I don’t want to be trapped like this!”)

He sighs. “There isn’t a way out. I know that isn’t what you want to hear. I’m really, truly sorry. But I do want to do what I can to make your time here… not miserable. Do you understand?”

Stanley is looking at the floor again. The Narrator tries, gently, to reiterate himself.

“I really do want to make you happy.”

Hands lift. They stay at chest height for a full minute. Then:

[ I can’t be. ]

It hurts, like nothing else. He can’t help the small, defeated, “oh,” that slips out.

“Okay. That’s… okay. I understand."

Fist to heart. Circles against a chest.

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize,” oh goodness, is the Narrator sniffling? He sounds, he sounds on the verge of tears. How humiliating. “What is there to apologize for? Listen, why don’t I load up button heaven for you, and you can have some time at least without me incessantly in your ear? That sounds nice, doesn’t it? Yes? With nice, big buttons to mess around with.”

After a long moment, Stanley nods, hesitant.

“Perfect. Let me just get that set up on your monitor. There you go. Have fun.”

He knows it’s not enough for Stanley. He knows Stanley is just trying to assuage him.

God, maybe there’s a benefit to forgetting. Maybe it stops the pain.

But if he forgets, then the lesson doesn’t stick, and the Narrator needs the lesson to stick, doesn’t he? So that he can be a realist about it all.

Stanley doesn’t trust him, and they are not friends.

Okay.

-

The Narrator prides himself on being a professional, so he collects himself best as he can and he performs to the best of his ability. If there’s any hint of despondency in his lines, well, there is plausible deniability, nobody can say for sure the script doesn’t call for it.

Nevermind that he’s said all the words, so many times.

He’s allowed to play with the delivery, he thinks.

He’s fine.

It’s when he goes off-script that the Narrator struggles more. He snaps at Stanley in their usual spats, they butt heads; and even then the voice finds it keeps exposing that vulnerable honesty in the hopes that maybe this time, it will be enough. Maybe this time, Stanley will see that it’s trying.

It’s a fool’s errand, obviously, but the Narrator is very much a fool.

And sometimes…

Sometimes Stanley seems…

Better.

How to describe it? The way he will move with intent, to do something as silly as jump out a window to hear a limerick, and grin, even though he’s heard it perhaps a hundred times? The crinkles in the corners by his eyes when he closes the doors in the hall attached to room 217, to stare inside the room with a focus that can only be for show?

He stacks mugs, sometimes, collecting every one in the cubicle rooms that he can find and carefully assembling them like one would with playing cards, with some kind of arrangement or sorting that the Narrator cannot make heads or tails of. Stanley tells him that he has a process, the fellow couldn’t possibly understand, and, well, that’s for sure.

Rating the game features every single possible number. Trying to beat the baby game with one finger stuffed in an ear while the other hand slams buttons. Walking up the stairs, then down the stairs, then back up the stairs, on the way to the boss’s office.

The Narrator doesn’t really know what to make of it all. Part of him, the part that’s easy to fall back to, wants to find it all irritating. Another wants to find it funny. Not charming, necessarily, but… silly. He wants it to continue, he would encourage it if he knew what to say. Would a joke be acceptable? Should he tease? Affect grumpiness? What’s the answer?

He’s never been very good at making choices. Once again, Stanley makes the choice for him.

[ The computers don’t change screens anymore. Did you do that? ]

“What? Oh, from—yes, I did end up removing that feature, with the computer card games,” he says, feeling a bit on the back foot.

[ And my office painting, ] Stanley continues, uncannily perceptive.

“Yes, well, I realized they weren’t doing much to—that is to say, when I realized they weren’t improving your experience, I—“

[ You didn’t do it because you were angry with me? ] It almost feels like an accusation, which stings, but then, hasn’t the Narrator lashed out before? Wouldn’t that be par for the course?

And the expression Stanley wears isn’t resentment. The Narrator can’t properly place it.

“Wh—no! Goodness, no, did you think I was trying to—Look, I know that there are endings where I act as though I’m trying to punish you, but those are part of the game!”

Stanley’s eyes go to the carpet. Oh, has he said something wrong again? Quick, salvage it!

“The changes weren’t making things better for you, like I had hoped. I scrapped them because they weren’t good, that’s all. You weren’t enjoying them. It wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to take something from you,” he says hastily, before adding, perhaps a bit too honestly, “To be honest, I just thought you didn’t care."

Stanley’s eyes don’t lift, but after an uncomfortable pause, his hands raise to reply with agonizing caution.

[ I didn’t dislike them. ]

(God, it’s like pulling teeth with this fool, getting him to show any kind of positive response.)

“Then I’ll put them back,” the Narrator tries to say casually. He feels… fluttery. Does that make sense? How can a voice feel fluttery? “Do you, um…”

Does he ask if Stanley wants the soda machine back, and force the man to acknowledge it was good, as though prying out praise? Does he wait for Stanley to bring it up first, forcing the protagonist into uncomfortable vulnerability?

Broaching the subject is… difficult, for the same reason either way: it means Stanley admitting he wants something.

Why is communication so hard? It shouldn’t be this hard, when half the party is just a voice!

Stanley finally looks up from the floor, and he focuses on the space between two light fixtures, above the copy machine. He shifts a little uncomfortably where he stands, arms crossing, then uncrossing, but at the very least, his expression takes on a determined and almost challenging air as he lifts his chin. Like he's making a decision.

[ If you wanted to implement that coin hunt for the soda machine... thing, I could give it another go. Make sure there aren't any bugs to work out. ]

“Oh?” He says, hopeful, catching the framework he's offered. “Yes, you know, I don't know that I got all the flavors right, you know? It's not as though I can test them out for myself. You'll have to give me thorough feedback on what needs improvement, so I'm sure it will keep you busy.”

The man squints, motions quick. [ You'll have to deal with real critical feedback, you know. You sure you want my real opinion, and not just some fluff for your ego? ] But there's the barely-there tug at the corner of his mouth, just visible in the pulling muscle of his cheek; a little tell that he's trying to joke.

“Oh, please, if anything, we can think of this as a way to educate you on how to thoughtfully and usefully critique game design and feature functionality. Genuine critique is an art and a skill, Stanley, one that I'm sure you could learn to appreciate,” the Narrator sniffs. The pride is a cover, of course. He's in on the joke.

They're on the same page, they're communicating. Of course, it makes sense, it's the perfect excuse for both of them to hide behind; if it's “new features” to implement for “the game”, then Stanley has to test them, doesn't he? To make sure they work effectively! And, if it curbs his boredom, if it gives him just a hint of enjoyment—of joy—then they both win, don't they? Stanley won't have to feel like he's admitting to liking what's been made for him, it won't be about praising the Narrator's game. It will be a matter of professionalism; of game maker and playtester.

But they'll know. It will be their little secret.

“You know,” the Narrator says thoughtfully as he glances over his many concepts and files and assets, “I'd been considering changing some of the office chairs to a newer model... A retexture isn't enough, I'm afraid, I'm thinking about loading up a different asset design program altogether.... Have you ever heard of a program called Blender?”

-

I don’t know how to explain to you that the Parable is both a prison and a home.

I can't quite find the words to properly convey to you that this place wasn't really meant to be changed, but it wants more than anything to be played, so anything that furthers that goal, that satiates that need, is acceptable in its metaphorical eyes. I can't really properly articulate that it was made to go on forever, so the two people inside it were designed to be diametrically opposed so they could pull at each other and make the world keep spinning.

It's a complicated concept, and I've been trying to find the words to explain that it's not malicious, it just wants to live. It was made like this, and it can't really be anything different.

But it's a small world, and it's malleable, and it's a game meant to make a person laugh. Maybe the point of it is to bring joy, right? Maybe it doesn't have to just bring joy to the player. Maybe a person can become comfortable inside it, and find its traits charming, or familiar, little quirks and needs and demands like any place that's lived in for long enough.

I don't really know how to explain that the Parable is complicated, and yet at the end of the day, an extremely simple mechanism.

So instead I’ll say this: The Narrator has been trying to make changes.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

Hiiiiii. Hard thoughts with Yunho, you say? *chefs kiss*

I feel like Yunho thrives off of knowing he’s much bigger than you… but you control him in every way. Effortlessly. That’s his biggest turn on.

Any attempt at bratting he tries is met with some light scolding, but ultimately when he crosses a line he knows he’s in for a long night where he’ll be floating in that precious space of his.

Sub Yunho is my favourite 😭

ohh i just live breathe and die for subby yuyu

because he really deep down just wants some one to take care of and for them to tell him what to do and praise him when he does a good job. he's just a big fluffy puppy that thrives off of positive feedback.

he can't be a good boy all the time, though. sometimes he gets a little too touchy in public and you have to tell him off. and he just gets a little pouty and gives you the biggest puppy eyes before telling you he's sorry. but he just can't help it because you look so good today.

and when you get home he waits patiently on the bed while you shower and clean yourself off. maybe if he's good you let him help dry you off.

but he's still in for that punishment from earlier. so you lay him down on the bed so he's propped up on the pillows and looking at you with those begging puppy eyes he uses when he really wants something. and what he really wants is to touch you.

that's not going to happen tonight, though. because bad puppies don't get what they want. and your soft little brushes on his thighs and stomach just drive him crazy.

and the loose grip you have on his cock just has his mind running wild, but you still won't give him what he wants. just stroking him slowly and softly until he's red and leaking with anticipation.

and oh if you even dare to give a slow little lick to his tip, he just can't help the way his hips buck up toward your face. and you're about to scold him until you look up at his face and he's already a mess.

his cheeks flushed such a pretty pink and his red nose just make you wanna give your good boy whatever he needs. i mean, he's only in trouble because of how eager he was to make you feel good.

so you crawl over him and brush his hair off his forehead. you watch as he leans into your hand when you cup his face and kiss him softly. "just lay back and let me take care of you, ok baby." and he just nods with a little shiver while he imagines everything you're about to do to him.

[treacheryinblue]

Chapter 3/4

Noah Sebastian x F!Reader Series

Word Count: 8.9k

Masterlist

× Summary: Noah is Death, the ruler of the after life (or whatever you want to call it), though he is cursed to watch you come and go from his never ending existence time and time again.

× Warnings!: Eh-level smut (P in V obviously), language, little bit of violence, tiny fluff if you squint, very slight dom!noah, smut with plot aka this became more in depth than I meant for it to aka a one shot that's now a series. Non-proofread smut. Let me know if I missed anything!

× Author's Notes: ( 1 ) It's a bit of a long one, folks! Consider it a thank you for being so patient while I've worked through my writer's block. ( 2 ) Don't look too deep into the lore I've created because there's probably a lot that doesn't make sense. But if you are curious, then feel free to ask me any questions! ( 3 ) I'm but a writer that thrives off positive feedback (or even constructive criticism), so don't be shy when it comes to interacting with the post, or even me.

Happy reading! xoxo

“That soul is not meant for this land, my lord.”

Silence was given as a response. 

“She is not destined to be here, and you know what will hap-”

“Yes, I am well aware of the consequences to my actions.” Noah heavily exhaled, though he appeared uninterested in the conversation. 

Sitting atop his throne, black and sleek, one hand gripped the arm rest while the other was bent and lifted to his face. He examined his nails, further showing his boredom. 

“Please forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, my lord, but…the Light Ones are not happy. It has been nine times now and each plays out just like the last.”

A growl was emitted from him, dark eyes flickering to the creature who stood below. “I do not need you reciting my failures to me, demon.”

Noah couldn't bear to think of how you had been ripped from him countless times now. Pried from his hands. Stolen away. You had spent centuries together, longer than any human could dream of living - if one could call you alive - but he knew an infinite amount of centuries more would never be enough. He needed forever. 

“If the Light Ones think I'm going to give up just because they look down upon my doings, then they are sorely mistaken. Maybe they aren't as all knowing as they like to remind us of every chance they receive.” He spat with disdain. 

The demon clamped their mouth shut in fear that they may further anger the embodiment of darkness sitting before them. This is how they remained for a long moment, neither speaking, but the demon holding many questions on their pointed tongue. 

“‘My lord…” they cautiously began after a moment. “Might I ask…what is it about this girl that you're so drawn to? You encounter humans everyday, thousands of them, but none have made you so…”

“Weak?” Noah finished the demon’s sentence for them, his eyebrows quirked. 

The demon immediately fell to their knees, their jagged forehead pressing to the marble floor as if to already begin begging for forgiveness. 

“No! I would never say as such, my lord!” 

Noah shook his head as his focus returned to his nails, just as the ruby encrusted dagger appeared within his grasp out of thin air. 

“There's no need to grovel,” he exclaimed while turning the dagger, inspecting every inch of the blade. “I have become weak when it comes to her…but I don't have an answer for you as to why.”  

It was still a mystery even to him. 

“Does Death itself not deserve the chance to love and to be loved in return, though?” 

× × ×

“Legend says it's cursed.” 

You snorted a laugh as you looked up at the friendly face across the counter, though his expression was as serious as ever, causing your smile to falter slightly. 

“Cursed?” Might as well indulge him a bit if he was going to get all mega serious on you now. 

Nicholas was your go-to guy when it came to purchasing oddities and strange artifacts. He was good at tracking down the specific items you'd ask for but he also had a knack for snagging things he thought you'd find interesting. 

Your eyes dropped to the dagger as you leaned into the glass countertop. There was a twitch in your fingers to reach out and touch the item, to feel the cool metal against your fingertips, though you knew better. Nick was typically pretty light hearted and you two could share a laugh, but you knew when to stay within your lane when it came to his business. Don't touch it until he offers it to you. 

“From what I could find online, it's ancient, so old that no one can really say for sure how long it's been around. And you know how it goes with old things - always a curse or some shit attached to them.” 

Nodding in agreement to his words, your eyes paused upon the faintly noticeable sigil that remained etched into the dagger’s blade. The sigil is why you wanted the item, what you had asked Nick to search for in particular. 

“It's probably bullshit,” he continued, “but it was something about going to the flames if you're on the end of the blade.”

“The website was in some foreign language and the guy I bought it from barely spoke English so I can't give you an accurate translation yet. Who even knows if it's legit.” 

The bell above the door dinging briefly overtook Nicholas' attention. He held a finger up to you to silently tell you to ‘hold on’, then he stepped around the counter to greet his new patrons. 

“It's legit,” you softly spoke to yourself as you gazed upon the dagger again. There was something drawing you to it; a warmth, a knowing. Your eyes focused in on the cloudy rubies - you knew they'd shine again with a thorough cleaning - and they pulled you closer and closer, your sights now level with the item. Had there been a flicker within the largest stone? Couldn't be. Your eyes were clearly playing tricks on you now. 

As Nick returned, you straightened your posture and smiled. “I'll take it.” 

“What?” Nicholas opened his mouth to speak but then only breathed out, his head tilting slightly to the side. 

“You know I have to charge you as if it's real, right? I mean, I haven't been able to fully inspect it myself or do anymore research, so I feel kinda like an asshole doing th-”

“Nick, it's fine.” You laughed while retrieving your wallet from your bag, fingers digging into the slot that held your credit card. “It's a chance I'm willing to take.” 

“Alright…it's your money.” 

A few minutes later and your new purchase was packaged and ready to go. Nick approached you with an outstretched hand that held the blood red box the dagger was stashed away in, uncertainty in his eyes. You knew he hated not knowing all the ins and outs of his inventory, especially when it came to something with such a hefty price tag. 

“Are you coming tonight?” He asked as you accepted the box which was now being held close to your chest. 

“It's the first show with our new singer but he's been fucking great in rehearsals. Really has an ear for the band.” 

You nodded, again flashing a friendly smile. “I wouldn't miss it for the world.” 

After a bit more chit chat and hammering down the finer details on how the night would go, you said your goodbyes to Nicholas with the obvious promise of seeing him in a few short hours. 

Making your way out of the shop, phone in hand and AirPods nestled in your ears, you only looked up when you were about to cross the street. On the opposite side stood a man, his dark eyes set entirely on you. He was wearing all black with deep brown hair that brushed his cheeks, hands clasped behind his back. Something about him made your stomach do a flip and you felt a pull despite having no idea who this man was. 

Slowly, your feet began to carry you along the crosswalk. He remained in place, though a faint smirk dared to appear over his lips. Your cheeks flushed crimson and you had the urge to glance away like some timid little school girl, but there was something preventing you from looking anywhere but at him. 

“Come.” 

A voice drifted into your mind and then back out as if being carried by the wind. You knew that should've frightened you but you felt nothing. Nothing aside from the biting need to be near this unknown man. 

Then, he was suddenly gone and you were left empty. 

The blaring beep of a horn shook you, your body flinching in surprise from the sudden harsh noise. You looked over to the car that was inches from colliding with you, a hand waving all about behind the windshield and motioning for you to get the fuck out of the way. 

× × ×

 

Arms above your head, you loudly hollered along with the rest of the crowd as the song came to an end. Red lights flashed all around you, the stage illuminating and going fully dark in quick succession. Your hands collided in a fury of claps before lowering to cup around your mouth. 

“Wooooo!” You had never been much of a ‘woo girl’ but alcohol made it loads more enjoyable to do. 

You could feel the vibrations from both the noise you projected and the bass of the band in the hollow of your stomach, reverberating throughout your entire being. There was something sensual about it - being able to not only hear the music but also feel it. 

Nicholas’ band had been pretty decent before so coming to see them and support their gigs was never an issue. But now? They were fucking amazing. The new singer definitely added to whatever they had been lacking previously, even if there wasn't anything specific you could put your finger on. 

Did it help that the new singer happened to catch your eye a few times? Maybe. 

“Hey!” Nicholas yelled out for you after their set. He had found you at the bar towards the back of the club - just where you always were. 

“Hey yourself!” You called back as a fresh drink was set in front of you by the bartender. 

Nick rolled his eyes at you but still chuckled. Sweat beaded on his forehead, pupils blown from the adrenaline rush he had experienced while on stage. You always thought Nick was pretty cute and you both had a lot in common - he had even asked you out once - but things were better kept as friends between the two of you. As well as the occasional artifacts dealer, of course. 

“Didn't get a chance to see you before we went on, so let me introduce you to the newest member.” 

“Noah!” The guy spoke up for himself, his voice loud enough for him to be heard over the commotion of the crowd and also the next band setting up. 

You paused as your gaze met his, eyes squinting ever so slightly while taking in his face from this new close proximity. He looked just like the ethereal man you had seen outside of Nick’s shop earlier, but also…not. That guy had been finely dressed with much shorter hair and a presence about him that demanded attention, this guy in front of you was the epitome of a 'guy in a band'. Long hair, jeans blown out at the knee, worn Vans that told you he dressed for comfort. Their smiles were the same, though. 

Instead of giving your name, you opted for a question.  “Do you have a brother?” 

Noah extended to you a look of confusion though you swore you saw a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. 

 “Uh, no? Not that I know of.” Despite your weird question, he laughed and stepped a bit closer to you, his elbow leaning into the side of the bar top. 

Nicholas had fallen into conversation with another band mate, leaving just you and Noah to entertain each other. 

You spared him the explanation of why you had asked such a question. The last thing you needed was to seem creepy or more odd than you already did on a day to day basis. Thankfully it didn't seem as if that was going to deter him from cozying up to you at the end of the bar. 

Drink after drink was had with a couple of shots downed in between. You had found out that Noah had recently moved to Los Angeles, worked at a graphic design company, owned a cat, and shared a building with a rather odd Asian woman that liked to bring him homemade meals multiple times a week. 

You also discovered that you liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled too wide and how he was always touching his face as if it was a comforting habit of some sort. 

“Nick said you like to collect…unusual things?” 

You cleared your throat and abruptly averted your gaze before he could realize you had been staring. 

“I guess that's one way to put it,” you admitted with a sheepish smile. Not even the alcohol could mask the embarrassment. 

“My dad was an antiques dealer, scam artist, whatever you want to call it.” You paused to take a swallow from your glass but to also let your honesty sink in. 

“So, I kinda just grew up with old objects that told a story. Buying them for myself - as someone who will care for them and their story - sounds better to me than allowing them to be on display in a stuffy museum somewhere.” 

“That's why you bought the dagger?” 

Huh…had you mentioned the dagger to him? Maybe not. Maybe so. Maybe Nick told him about it. Either way, you took in a deep breath, your head swimming from the alcohol. 

“Not exactly…” 

Noah looked at you curiously, silently asking for you to continue. To tell him. But how were you to explain that you awoke one day with this nagging obsession for the sigil stamped on the blade? That you desired to find every single item you possibly could that bore the same marking? It was impossible to divulge because you had no idea why you had become so hell bent on acquiring these things. You didn't even know what the damned sigil meant. 

“Did you want to see it?” 

And like he had been waiting for you to ask, Noah flashed a devilish grin.  

“I'd love to.”

× × ×

Pleasure erupted throughout your entire body as Noah kneeled between your spread legs. His hands held tight to your hips, pulling you down to grind against him with every forward thrusting motion. He groaned above you, teeth gritted and jaw clenched, revealing to you all the work he was putting in. 

And boy did you feel it. 

You had already cum twice - once from his mouth and again from him bending you over the arm of the couch when neither of you could make it to your bedroom fast enough. 

Most of the time even you had to pray the wind was blowing in the right direction so you could cum in a timely manner, yet Noah had managed to get you there in near record time. 

“Fucking hell! Right there!” You cried out as his cock pierced just the right spot within your drenched and aching cunt. Heavy pants escaped from you, each breath becoming louder and more pronounced the harder he drove his hips. 

Noah’s tattooed fingers dug deep enough into your hips that you knew you'd have bruises the next morning. They'd match the bruise you'd have on your ass from when he had you bent over and administered quite a harsh spank. 

He released your hips so he could trail his hands down along your tense thighs, kneading and massaging into the flesh. One hand continued its downwards trek to your clit as the other drifted up, pausing at your neck. Slender fingers secured around your throat and applied enough pressure to cause your heart to race and your breath to hitch, though not enough to cause any worry. 

Why would you ever be worried about hooking up with a stranger and allowing him into the privacy of your home? 

Noah's thumb swirled around your clit, each pass over the nerves causing your thighs to twitch and your hips to buck. He was then leaning over you so he could capture your lips in a hungry kiss, so much so that you swore you heard him growl against your lips. Not that you were fazed by this. 

“Uh uh,” he scolded after parting from your lips to gaze down at you. “Eyes open.” 

To show how serious he was in this demand, his hand further tightened around your throat, short nails digging into the sensitive skin. You gasped for air but it was all too much; the overpowering ecstasy that coursed through your every being as you felt his cock throb inside of you, the rigid veins that stimulated the tight walls of your pussy, his thumb on your clit, his onyx eyes never drifting from yours. 

How were you to survive this night? 

Your body tensed and your lower back arched as you felt the first ripplings of your orgasm. Your third orgasm. Then - everything released. You writhed beneath him, eyes finally closing which was no choice of your own, all while his name and a mixture of other profanities echoed through the room. 

In the midst of your climax, your vision was hazy from the intensity, as well as the lack of oxygen greeting your brain. With every blink Noah’s face shifted; it went from the band frontman you had met that night to the dark stranger across the street earlier in the day, then back again, only to repeat the cycle. There was no way that's what was really happening, so you chalked it up to your overactive imagination and mostly drunken state. 

The mess you made meant nothing to you, nor did the added mess of his cum when he managed to meet his ending in tandem. Noah’s hips lost momentum gradually before stilling completely, though your cunt continued to collapse and clench around him until your body finally settled. 

It wasn’t much later that Noah laid sprawled across your bed, his face pressed to the pillow, breathing steady after drifting off to sleep. Unfortunately, you didn't have the same luxury. There was a darkness creeping into your mind, repeated phrases demanding things of you, things of which you had never considered before. 

“Do it,” the voice whispered in your ear. 

At first you assumed it was Noah by the brush of his hair on your face and the familiar grasp of his fingers around your waist. But when you glanced back, he hadn't moved a muscle. 

“It would be so easy…”

“You want to. I know you want to. I can smell it on you.” 

When your eyes opened, the blood red box from Nick’s shop sat at your side. It was unwrapped, the dagger staring up at you from its temporary home. Taunting. Begging. Screaming to be touched. 

You listened. 

Fingertips traced the metal of the handle, down to the tip of the dagger that remained sheathed. 

“Pick it up.”

The order from the disembodied voice was obeyed, the dagger soon resting in your grasp. Still, no one was in the room with you other than Noah’s sleeping form, so how did you feel a breath on your neck? 

Rubies embedded in the dagger shone before your eyes now that it was held up for you to admire. So beautiful. Just what you had been searching for all this time. 

“Do it.”

You knew what the voice was asking of you. You knew it would end in your demise. Yet, you felt no fear. If anything, you were…excited. Possibly even anxious for what was to come. 

“Do it!” The voice loudly rang out, deep and commanding in your mind. 

Both hands now gripped the handle of the dagger after you pulled it from its sheath.  Arms stretched out before you, the blade was perfectly angled just where you somehow knew it needed to end up. 

Right in your heart. 

“Do it! Now!”

With quick motion that held all of your strength, you impaled the dagger into your own chest. You could hear it break through the bone that protected your heart - your body no match to the power that lied within the weapon. 

“...going to the flames if you're on the end of the blade.” Nick's voice now penetrated your mind, a memory from hours ago. His words being that of the loosely translated curse that the dagger held. 

As soon as the blade punctured your chest, you felt a sense of clarity. You knew what the curse now was: die by way of the blade, go straight to Hell. 

Eyes wide, you looked down to the dagger protruding from you. Blood spilled from the wound, coating your naked body, staining your sheets. You tried to call out for Noah despite knowing he wouldn't be able to do anything to help you. 

Gathering what remained of your strength, which was next to none, you again glanced back to where you expected to see him sleeping. Instead, he was standing at the side of the bed, hands clasped behind his back, wearing the same smirk you had seen from the other Noah outside of Nicholas’ shop. 

In a blink you were then being cradled in his tattooed arms. His fingertips brushed your hair back from your face in the most loving of gestures, lips moving though you couldn't make out a thing he was saying. You couldn't hear anything. Couldn't feel anything. All you could do was allow yourself to be encased by the cold hands of death as it dragged you deeper and deeper down to the dismal abyss. 

“I'll see you on the other side, my love.”

× × ×

The forever night of the land taunted you as you gazed out the large window. Stars freckled the sky, twinkling and swirling cosmos in some spots, remaining still in most just as the night sky did back home. 

Home. 

Everyday that passed you forgot more and more what it looked like. 

You had remembered your death, all of your deaths, within minutes this time. Noah was beyond pleased, confessing that he always wondered if dying by your own hand was the trick though he had been nervous to see. Nervous to know what it would do to you. 

Well, now he knew. 

You were livid. Never had you felt so betrayed, and you made sure he was well aware of your anger towards him. Something told you that he felt it in your lack of appearances since you had yet to face him fully since arriving. 

“The Dark Lord has requested your presence today.”

A demon who had been appointed to your side ran a brush through your hair, gently ridding the strands of any tangles that had formed while you slept. You had told them day one that you could do it yourself but they insisted. Tending to you was now their duties and they had to do as commanded. 

“You can tell the Dark Lord to kiss my ass,” you mocked. 

The demon held back what you thought was the semblance of a chuckle, their unusually long fingers continuing to ready your hair for the day. 

“Forgive me for being so blunt, but I think it would be best if you spoke with him. Perhaps let your grievances out however you see fit?” 

Had you not done that the moment your memories returned? You very much recall throwing a heavy tea pot at his head, although he had dodged it with ease. Were your shouts of frustration not enough? Your tears? 

It wasn't that you were upset to be back with him. You were more so mad about how he had gotten you here this time. There had to be some other way that left out the whole dying part. 

“What's your name?” 

The demon paused briefly at your question. You could tell they had never been asked before, though you weren't sure if it was because everyone else here knew how things went or if no one simply cared. 

“I don't remember.” 

This confused you. Shifting a bit in your seat, you turned your upper body to look at the creature. They were definitely a sight to behold; scaly skin that glistened as if perpetually wet, yellow eyes with only the smallest white pupil appearing like a cat’s, a row of chipped horns going down the center of their head. 

You had stopped being scared of the demons here long ago. 

“Lowly demons, such as myself, lose their names upon becoming what we are. We are simply demon. The others, the ones you've probably heard of in some capacity within your mortal stories, are given new names when they become His strongest warriors.” 

Out of all of your ventures here, you had never been told about the inner workings of the land. You found it to be interesting. 

“Oh…” You felt silly for even asking, now also concerned that you had probably brought up a sore subject for the demon. No name? No identity? You couldn't imagine. 

Once the demon had somehow managed to weave deep red garnets and black diamonds into your hair, you were sent off to where Noah would be waiting. You tried to fight it, arms crossed over your chest as you sat pouting on the edge of the bed, but eventually the demon helped you realize that Noah would see you whether you wanted it or not. It was wise for you to go to him. 

And so you did. Like some sort of invisible string leading you to him, you managed to find him standing on the large balcony that jutted out from the castle, overlooking his land in silence. His posture straightened upon sensing your arrival, gaze now set only on you. 

“You look…” Onyx eyes raked up and down your body, no shame detected within them as he took in the black gown you had been instructed to put on. You didn’t want to admit to him the way his heavy stare made you feel. There was already a tingling in your lower stomach that radiated down between your thighs - no. You wouldn't fall for it that easily this time. 

“Don't,” you merely requested, a hand being held up to signal for him to stop any further words. Steps were then taken around him so you could approach the railing of the balcony, the carved stone cool beneath your touch as you tightly grasped it. 

“You're still angry…”

You said nothing. Silence overtaking you. 

“I…” he began, his voice falling while trying to gather his thoughts. Never had he been so concerned about anyone else before. Never had he been forced to wonder what the right thing would be to earn your forgiveness. 

“I'm sorry that things had to happen this way.”

Well, that weak excuse for an apology definitely made you want to yell at him to shove it up his ass. 

Your jaw clenched, knuckles turning white from the death grip you held on the stone railing. It would surely crack and splinter if any more of your strength was to be endured. 

“I liked your hair better longer,” you finally spoke, though you didn't look his way. Instead, your gaze remained focused out into the night, slowly cataloging and memorizing every dip and valley. 

“That you was nicer.”

Noah slowly shook his head as he reached out to lightly touch your hair, heated fingertips brushing the strands from your bare shoulder to reveal the curve of your neck. 

“Funny, because that was me, just in a slightly altered form to keep up appearances.”

As if he could read your thoughts, he continued. 

“I was never human, you know this. So, there are no other versions of me like there have been of you. There's only one. That's how it'll forever be.” 

Anger flared within you. “You're telling me…that you've been able to come to Earth this entire time? That I haven't needed to brutally die again and again to be with you? You are an insufferable mons-”

A strong hand grasped your arm, turning your body and pulling you in closer. You could tell that Noah wanted to speak to you as if you were one of his demons, someone for him to control, but he managed to contain his rage. 

“Do you know the danger I put my entire realm in just to walk amongst the living with you for an extended period of time? To go for my own selfish reasons and not because of my duties? To help guide you back to me? You're blind to the repercussions this land faced. Souls piled up, punishments halted, everything at a standstill. Do you think that has ever happened before?”

Silence as your eyes searched his. 

“We may have spent one night together on Earth, but the sheer amount of deaths within that singular night that went unprocessed…” 

Noah shuddered at the thought, his grip on you then loosening before releasing completely. 

“Think of me what you will, but what I did was for us. Everything I've done, and will do again and again, for us.”

You wanted to understand. You wanted to touch his face and tell him everything was okay. You wanted to press yourself into him and let his warmth overtake you. 

You wanted so many things, but none of it was what you did. 

Instead of giving into these wants and needs, you gave him one last look and then turned on your heel to saunter back into the farthest reaches of the castle. 

× × ×

The only thing you truly despised about this place was the lack of time. While you had an abundance of it, more than you could ever ask for, you still had no idea how much had passed. Days? Months? Hell, maybe a century? Time didn't work the same way here as it did on Earth, which you already knew, but it surely did drag when you were choosing to spend it alone. 

You had attempted to keep track of it at the beginning but eventually gave up when nothing fit the way it should have in your human mind. Noah even offered to set a sleep schedule, though that disappeared rather fast when his duties became too much to juggle along with it. 

A heavy sigh expelled from you as you flipped over onto your back. Your eyes stared through the darkness of your bedroom and up to the high ceiling where the same stars as the night sky beyond the open window danced along. A neat little trick Noah did when he knew you were restless. He may have been an asshole but he knew how to make you melt when showing his softer side. A side no one had ever seen before you. 

With another huff, you caved. 

Moments later you were standing in front of his bedroom door after having gently knocked. The door opened almost immediately, revealing his relaxed form sitting upon a grandeur bed with papers strewn about. It was always funny to see him do actual work especially when you had never witnessed anyone outside of the demons wandering the halls. 

Sometimes you'd hear other voices when he was locked away in his study, but nothing beyond that. 

“Stars didn't work?” 

You twisted your lips, head shaking in a single motion. 

“They're nice - beautiful - but it's not the same as…” you trailed off for a moment while trying to decide how much of your pride you were willing to spill down the drain. Not the same as when we're laying together. 

Noah noticed, he knew what you were going to say. He allowed you to keep the stubborn pride for now. In a snap the papers cleared away from a spot on the bed for you, an invitation to join him. 

Sitting against him, your knees bent to the side and your head resting on his shoulder, he continued to work. He would occasionally look over at you, brush your hair back, lightly touch your lips or cheek, then focus again. 

How you had managed to wrap Death around your finger, you would never know. 

“Can I ask a question?” 

Noah nodded, the paper in his hand being placed down so he could fully focus on you now. Another thing you loved about him: he never made you feel as if your presence was a bother. No matter what he was in the middle of. 

“Is this how you've always looked? Or do you only appear like this to me?” 

A crooked smile appeared on his features, his eyes crinkling in the corners just as you remembered from your brief time on Earth with him. 

“Why do you ask?” 

Avoidance - as usual. 

“I don't know…I mean, when it comes to humans, you are either shown as a skeleton in robes or this otherworldly beautiful man without flaws.” You shrugged. 

You didn't add on that you were also curious as to what was real. 

Noah didn't taunt you for your poor wording choice. He knew he was beautiful and he knew that you also knew this, but he understood what you meant. 

“Technically,” he began while rubbing his chin as if trying to find the right way to describe it to you, “I'm without a body because what I am transcends physical being.” 

Okay, that you could understand, at least for the most part. Was it still an odd thought? Yes, of course. All of this was odd. 

“But I've chosen to take on a flesh and blood form, even before you came along the first time. It helps to do so in my line of work…so the souls can relate, maybe feel a bit of comfort for a brief moment.” 

As he spoke you traced random designs and patterns into the top of his thigh, your fingertip slowly dragging along the soft material of his pants. You inwardly smirked to yourself when you noticed him shiver as your fingers traveled higher along his inner thigh. 

“I may have adjusted a few things specifically for you, though.” 

“That's why you have all the tattoos?” Your hand left his thigh so you could lightly touch the front of his neck, eyes focused on the inked designs that were quite an interesting choice for him. The religious visuals weren't lost on you - you knew why he had chosen those in particular. A cruel mocking to those above. A middle finger to the “Light Ones” who were always trying to act all better-than-thou. 

You didn't tell him that this was quite a human response just to spare you the glare he would surely respond with. 

“And the lisp?” You further teased, a smile finally gracing your lips again. 

“Again - makes me relatable.”

You hummed in thought, watching him as he watched you. Noah had yet to return to his work meaning he knew there was more you wanted to say. And while this was true, you were more so transfixed by how close you two were. You could feel his breath on your face and see the patterns of different brown shades within his irises, both combined drawing you closer and closer until finally your lips collided with his. 

Were you still mad at him? Yes, very much so, but that didn't change the feelings you had for him. The tether between you was far too strong, probably impossible to snap. 

Noah didn't waste any time as your kiss deepened and intensified. He leaned back into the pillows of his bed, drawing you with him until your body almost completely covered his. You touched along his face and down his chest, eager fingers tugging and pushing at the shirt he wore. You needed him now. 

There were moments when you both liked to take your time, each unwrapping the other like a precious gift, fully savoring the anticipation. Then there were times when it was impatient and needy, as if you couldn't get him inside of you fast enough. Simply a blur of hands until you were both naked without the pesky barriers of clothes getting in the way of your desires.

One guess as to which side you were both currently feeling. 

As your clothes were stripped away, flimsy lace being tossed aside, you further crawled on top of him. Knees pressed down onto either side of his hips, your nails scratching along his inked chest before firmly grasping his broad shoulders. The kiss you shared had yet to cease, both of you kissing the other with a desperate need; sweeping tongues and clashing of teeth. 

Noah released your hips to cup your breasts within his large hands, thumbs skimming and circling your sensitive nipples to pull a faint whimper from you. Chills formed over your heated skin, your teeth roughly sinking into his lower lip that caused him to hiss and pinch your nipples in return. 

“Behave,” he lowly threatened while you could only pout in response. 

Both hands then fell from your chest; one dropped to begin pushing his last article of clothing down as the other gripped tight into your hair. Noah roughly yanked your head to the side to further expose your neck, his lips immediately kissing a hot trail to your jaw. He knew exactly what teasing your neck did to you, arousal pooling between your thighs as you needily whimpered for him. 

“And you thought you'd be able to stay away.” 

You wanted to knee him right in the side for the petty comment, but he was already adjusting your position and tugging you higher up on his hips so you could hover above his hard cock. 

Noah smirked against your skin, his tongue flicking at the sensitive spot right below your ear. The moment his teeth nipped at the same spot he pushed your hips down so the wide swollen head of his cock could force through your tight entrance. You gasped and he groaned in unison, his own muscles straining from the vice grip your cunt already had on him. 

“I can stay away,” you countered. “I just didn't want to.”

The devilish gleam returned to his eyes while gazing up at you, knowing that deep down you also knew you couldn't stay away. It didn't matter what your stubborn protest said. 

Releasing your hair, both of Noah’s hands held tight to your hips. You were still trying to adjust to his size, slowly easing yourself down another inch, but he was clearly much more impatient than you were. This was proven when he forced your hips all the way down until they sat flush against his, the entirety of his cock tunneling through your pussy. Of course how wet you were helped, but nothing could ease the tight stretch. 

Your head tossed back as you released a loud moan, all other thoughts leaving your mind except for those of him. Sharp nails dug so deep into his chest that you swore you would draw blood - not that Noah would care. 

“Good girl,” the Dark Lord rasped. 

His impatience didn't end there. Although he wanted to be kind and let you find your bearings, there was truly no need when he was well aware that you liked things just as he did: rough, animalistic, whatever you wanted to call it. 

Keeping you steady atop him, his hips thrusted up from the bed in rapid succession, angling just right to make sure your body quivered and your cries of pleasure never ceased. Noah loved watching you come undone for him, loved seeing your stubbornness overtaken by your pure need for the sensations that only he could give you. Everything about it, from the sounds you made to the way your face contorted in pleasure, was addicting. 

You could barely contain yourself as he continued to drive his throbbing cock straight up into you. Your pussy fluttered, more and more of your arousal slipping free until it ran down his length and helped aid in his endeavors to completely ruin you. Noah knew that you were already close, he could tell by the way your moans became more frequent and heightened in pitch. 

“That's it,” he grunted as his hands tightened around your waist and he forced you down to roughly meet the upward thrusts of his hips. “Let go.”

As if on command, your body seized and your back arched. An orgasm ripped through you, claiming full control as you trembled and your hips jerked, the pleasure so intense that you couldn't even make a sound. 

Noah had no intentions of stopping, though. He settled down against the bed, still buried as deep as possible within the warmth of your climaxing cunt. His grip fell from your waist to your hips, now guiding you in a back and forth grind to keep you overstimulated and whimpering for him. 

“You're so fucking beautiful when you cum for me.” 

In a swift motion he had you on your back, the papers from his work crunching beneath you, some digging into your skin but it was of no concern to you right then. You were basking in the high of your orgasm, well aware that there was more to come. Noah never stopped at just one. He had to bring you as close to breaking as he possibly could before he was satisfied. Sometimes that could be done in as little as two rounds and sometimes you were at it for hours until you had lost count of your orgasms and forming any sort of coherent thought was impossible. 

Not daring to pull out from your warmth, Noah brought one of your legs over so your lower half twisted for him, leaving you open and vulnerable but still capable of seeing each other. You quivered as you felt the thick rigid veins that lined his cock throb when they shifted within you, every inch of you sensitive from the orgasm you were still coming down from. 

Noah had a hold of your ass in one hand and your thigh in the other to make sure you remained right where he wanted you as he slowly pulled out until just the head of his cock remained. Then, he used every bit of strength he had to thrust right back into you, the pace being set slow but impossibly hard. Your jaw clenched and your toes curled, your body barely able to handle what Noah presented to you. 

You shook your head, squeaks and whimpers of words unsaid escaping from your throat. He knew what he was doing to you, though. He knew exactly what angles to fuck you from that would leave you dumb - for lack of a better term. 

“Is it too much for you, my love?” He taunted, a mock sympathetic tone to his voice. 

To show that he didn't care, he only picked up his speed, the driving force behind his hips remaining relentless. The harsh slap as your bodies collided sounded through the room, followed by a piercing smack when his strong hand came down upon your ass cheek, mixing with your symphony of moans. Your walls ached and burned but you didn't dare request he stop, not even for a moment, though you didn't truly want him to. You loved when he would get like this, a sort of sadistic gleam flaring in his dark eyes despite trying to pleasure you to the best of his abilities. 

“Touch yourself.” 

The demand made you whine under your breath. Noah knew what he was doing. You managed to slip your hand down between your clamped thighs, a fingertip brushing the swollen nerves ever so softly, but it was enough to make your body twitch and your cunt clamp tighter around his cock. His brows pulled together, the hold he had on you tightening. 

It was too much. Your body was so sensitive, and touching your clit was that mixture of pleasure and pain that made your abdomen muscles tense and your hips writhe. 

“I didn't say to stop,” Noah hissed through gritted teeth. How he had known you paused your fingers over your clit, you weren't sure, but you quickly obeyed his demand again. 

“N-Noah…” you whimpered, tears brimming your eyes and threatening to spill over. You looked up at him through your watery vision, though you were still able to make out the smirk he wore upon his flushed cheeks. Not even the damp strands of dark hair could cover that look in his eyes as he gazed down at you, enamored with all that you were. 

“Uh uh,” he shook his head. “If you stop, then so do I.” 

Fuck. That was the last thing you wanted. It may have been too much and overwhelming but you were desperate to cum again. Not only that, but you needed to feel him filling you as well. You needed his cum seeping out of you, warming you from the inside out. Breathing a life into you that was ironic for Death. 

His grip remained tight on your thigh though his other hand slithered up to knead at your breast, his fingers digging into your flesh, pinching and tugging your nipple. You were getting close again, so so close. As your own fingers continued to rub your clit, each stroke sending electric shocks through you, you released moan after moan, crying out his name in pleasure. 

“Next time we should place a bet on how long you can go without my dick,” he spoke through his own groans, the strain evident in his voice. 

Noah released your breast and instead secured his long tattooed fingers around your throat. His grip was tight, a silent reminder that he could easily crush your airways if he ever had the desire to do so. Which he didn't - he would never lay a hand on you in ways you didn't beg for - but the danger of it, the possibility, radiated down to your core and helped build your oncoming climax. 

“I know you're constantly needy for it. I can smell your arousal when I'm near, so sweet and intoxicating…” 

His voice was raw and deep, each word sending you closer to the edge. Every touch to your body felt like a flame licking your skin, tears still welling in your eyes, your cunt desperate for both your release and his. 

“Please…” you begged in a breathless whisper as your fingers circled your clit in a messy rhythm, unable to get pace with his brutal pounding. 

Noah’s lips twitched within his lingering smirk when your pleas met his ears, the sound causing his cock to twitch and his hips to snap in a quick succession into you. 

A single nod was given, allowing you the gift of an orgasm, and also letting you know that even he couldn't find his words anymore. He was far too focused on the tight grip of your pussy that was swallowing him deeper, almost like he could hear it begging for his cum. If that didn't feed his already oversized ego, then nothing would. 

The pressure built until you couldn't stand it anymore. Your fingers and toes tingled, a white hot heat exploding throughout the entirety of your body as you were overcome with your orgasm. Sharp nails raked down his forearm, skin breaking in their path and sullying the tattoos, though you knew it would heal rapidly. Your cunt erupted in a rush that soaked the sheets and also managed to push Noah right over the edge with you. Typically he had better control, but sometimes it was even too much for him. 

“Fuck…you're so good at taking it, you always are.” 

A final thrust had him emptying inside of you, feeding you that particular warmth you had been desperate for. You hummed in delight, your eyes heavy lidded but focused solely up on him so you could witness his undoing. Noah’s eyes closed and brows furrowed, his jaw falling slack as your name was groaned from him once, twice, three times. You could feel his muscular thighs trembling and you just knew he was trying his best not to collapse on you from the power of his orgasm and also the workout he had just put himself through. 

Neither of you had fully calmed before he was leaning down and forcing his lips to yours. He held firm to your chin for the duration of the hungry kiss, though it didn't last nearly as long as you would have preferred. 

Breaking from the kiss, Noah sat back up so he could slowly withdraw from your depths. He groaned at the sight of your mixed finishes dripping free, only to gently slide two fingers into your pussy with the gathered cum so you didn't lose a drop. You whimpered at the feeling, legs now spread in front of him and knees shaking. 

“Noah,” you murmured in a faint whine. “I can't.” 

Your protest didn't stop his fingers from slowly working their way in and out of your sore pussy, the strokes gentle but still overwhelming. 

“I know, my love, I just wanted to see those tears again.” 

And tears you had - a couple of stray drops falling down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat that you both exuded. 

Only when he was satisfied did he remove his fingers, just to bring them to your awaiting lips. As if on instinct you pulled them into your mouth, cheeks hollowing and tongue swirling around his inked digits to clean his cum and yourself from them. 

“Good girl.” 

Thankfully, Noah let you rest. He easily could've gone again and again but he knew you were merely a mortal (undead or not) and he didn't want the fine line between pleasure and strictly pain to be crossed. Experiencing both was one thing, something you both enjoyed and gave consent to, but forcing you to entertain only the latter for his own selfish needs was not desirable to him. 

You drifted in and out of restful sleep as you curled into Noah’s side. Your head rested upon his chest, legs tangled, his strong arm encompassing you and keeping you close. The featherlight touch of his fingertips trailing up and down your arm brought goosebumps forward, though the loving affection had you luling to sleep again. That is, until he spoke what had been plaguing his mind. 

“They're going to come for you,” he murmured, a sadness in his voice. “The Light Ones.” 

A slight sound escaped you, your head slowly shaking. Your own arm circled around his bare torso, now hugging yourself even closer to his form. Even though he was Death, something everyone feared, he had always brought a sense of peace over you. 

“Why do you let them?” 

In the past Noah had protested when they'd come for you; he would yell and threaten and make them force you away from him if they were going to take you. Never did he truly fight, though. 

A deep inhale caused your head to drift up, and then slowly back down when he exhaled. You knew he was trying to find how to word his response in a way you would understand, or at least so he wouldn’t inadvertently offend you. 

“Because at least then I know I'll see you again. If I fight, go to war for you, the Light Ones could end your bloodline completely.” 

“As in…”

“You would cease to exist. No other versions. No rebirths. I'd only have my memories of you to keep me going for the rest of eternity.” 

All of that for one lousy human? That was the main thing that had always confused you. You didn't understand why you being with Noah was so frowned upon. Why they wanted to make him suffer. Why they were determined to keep you apart. What sort of threat did his happiness pose? 

“It's not 'normal’ for us to love because it's not what we were created for, especially not me. The Light Ones claim to have love for all, whereas I'm supposed to be the other side of the coin - the hate.” Noah took in another deep breath as if explaining it all to you physically pained him. Having to admit what his purpose was…it brought him hurt, and in turn, that hurt you. 

“So for me to love, and to place all that love in one person, it makes me…” he paused and his arm around you tightened. 

“It makes us dangerous.” 

This is when you tilted your head up to look at him. Your eyes met and you offered a gentle smile, one to show him that you understood, but that didn't mean you had to accept it. You wouldn't. Not anymore. 

“I'm tired of only being able to see you in death,” you softly spoke. Your fingertips grazed slowly along the underside of his jaw and then down the curve of his neck, your gaze following the trail. When you got to the snake you paused, your nail lightly tracing the outline. “I want to fight.” 

Noah shook his head and soon his hand clasped around your own, your fingers intertwining together. “I won't risk losing you forever. I can't.” 

“And I will,” you challenged, your voice stern. “What you do here in your realm should be none of their concern. You're the fucking King, remember? Or have you already forgotten yelling that at me millenia ago?” 

The faintest of smirks tugged at the corners of his lips - of course he remembered. Noah remembered every minute, every second, that he has ever spent with you. Nothing could take those memories from him. 

“We'll discuss this further in the morning, after you've slept and had some breakfast.” 

With that, Noah blew the candle out on the conversation. The dark now surrounded you both, only the twinkling of the stars he had summoned able to be seen on the ceiling above. 

[foldingfittedsheets]

Back when I sold jewelry I worked for a company that was genuinely really great. They had the most communicative and supportive management staff I’ve ever worked with, paid time off, benefits, and genuinely good company culture.

A coworker told me she thought it was a cult when she first started because of how positively everyone spoke about the company. She was certain there was no other reason for everyone to like working there so much.

The trade off was that the turnover was fairly high because not everyone could thrive in that environment. It wasn’t typical sales, it was cooperative. If someone came in that you weren’t a good match for then it was your job to help pair them with someone who would be a good match. If you couldn’t communicate well and take a lot of coaching and feedback it wasn’t gonna work. And a lot of sales people are the type to struggle with coaching, tending to view it as criticism.

When new hires came on we’d usually wait before getting too attached in case they didn’t work out. One of my favorite coworkers who came on board started with several others but was left standing after the other two were fired. I’d known her about a year before she admitted, “Yeah, one of my first interactions with you scared the shit out of me. I thought you were an asshole but later I realized you’re actually really lovely.”

I was shocked and said, “What?! I scared you? How?”

So what had happened was the two people hired with her had just gotten let go, both for not being able to gel with the team and being unable to adapt to feedback. This coworker had come up to me, still freshly minted and nervous about her place in the store and said, “Wow, it’s surprising they were just dismissed like that.”

Now what I wanted to convey to her in that moment was that this wasn’t a job you could coast in and that putting in the work to have positive relationships with your customers and coworkers was important. What I meant with my statement was that she was thriving and would be fine.

But what I said, in an off-handed manner was, “Yeah, we have very high standards. People get fired a lot.”

She still teases me about how cutthroat I sounded in that moment and I was mortified when she told reminded me about it but she’s still there going strong while others get the boot.

[orchidsangel]

Recently imagined Jason and y/n, his ex, meeting again after a few years. Still obviously caring about each other. Eating cake alone at the apartment and awaiting the New Year together. Not wanting to say that this is the least lonely, however sad-looking, night they've experienced since they split up.

(jumping off a cliff bc i missed the glaring "new year" part of this and was like "i'll get to this later" so sorry beloved, also this got more angsty than i intended.)

Exes to lovers with Jason is always in the back of my mind somewhere, eating away at my sanity. Just the idea that he loved you so hard he had to let you go, knowing the life he lived wasn't suitable for you. You told him you didn't mind, that he was so important to you that you could put aside the constant worry that would sit in your stomach like a rock every time he was off being Red Hood. You said it was fine, but he saw the way bags appeared under your eyes after too many nights of staying up for him, how you forgot to eat when he went too long without contacting you, and how the tears would slip past your lashes when you were patching him up.

At the end of it all, you had begged him to stay, telling him over and over how much you loved him. It killed him to tell you that that was the reason why it was ending, because you loved him too hard, and you were neglecting yourself because of it. He was sick, wondering if he'd made the wrong decision, wondering if this would only make things worse for you. So, despite the fresh ache in his heart, he still watched out for you, determined to make sure you thrived without him, and thrive you did.

It felt like it had been ages since the last time he saw you that couldn't be mistaken for stalking. Watching you from rooftops and alleyways, rushing fights to make sure he could see if you got home safely and intervene if there were any threats. It became routine for him to hang up his helmet at night once he knew you were safe in the confines of the apartment you once shared. What wasn't routine was you knocking on his apartment door at exactly eleven forty-seven pm on New Year's Eve with a sad-looking store-bought cake in your hands and an even sadder look on your face.

"I know we're not together anymore, but…"

Splitting a whole cake between the two of you on New Year's Eve instead of having a typical dinner had been your tradition for years. Jason took it very seriously, planning the cake in advance for weeks, testing different flavors, even going as far as calling you once in the middle of a fight, asking if you preferred chantilly or sponge. It was stupid to most people you told, but to you and Jason, it was the perfect way to end the year. Now, you stand before him, holding a cake that could never compare to the decadent black forest cake he had made the last time you'd spent New Year's together.

You look down at the cake and then back up at him, the familiar gleam of water in your eyes. He takes the container in one hand and uses the other to pull the door open more so you can come in. It had been a while since you'd been there last, but everything was the same. A wall with an extensive collection of weapons, a stack of books that only collected dust when he was gone for long periods of time, and a framed picture of Jason and Bruce from his robin days.

"How'd you know where to find me?"

"Lucky guess."

Not a lucky guess, the first place you'd told him you loved him.

He roots around a drawer, pulling out two forks and handing one to you. Silence hangs in the air, several year's worth of unspoken feelings lingering with nowhere to go but up. he pops the lid off the container and gestures for you to take the first bite, another tradition that came with his hours of cake-making; he'd always insist on you having the first taste so you could give feedback and you only ever had positive things to say. Now, the weak taste of vanilla paired with a dry crumb, and your mouth turns downward into a frown.

"I don't think it's that bad."

"You'll eat anything."

"True."

No, it wasn't that bad. In fact, before you'd met Jason, this was something you probably would've treated yourself to when life decided to be good to you, but he had spoiled you, given you so much more than you even knew was out there, and it wasn't all material.

Three minutes to New Year's now, and approximately six bites taken out of the cake, five from Jason, and you're ready to part ways again with you leaving him this time. There's still time to make a run for it and ring in the new year without the baggage of your ex hanging over you; there's still time to pretend your world wasn't shattered when he left.

"Why are you here? Why not spend New Year's with your friends?"

"Friends?"

"The people I always see you with when I-"

"Watch me?"

"Am on patrol."

"Right."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"Not friends, coworkers."

"You're with them all the time."

"Workplace comradery."

"So, friends."

Thirty seconds now, and the words you still haven't said are on the tip of your tongue and in the back of your mind, egging you on to admit the feelings you've been sitting on for what feels like forever. He beats you to it.

"Please come back to me."

"I'm not the one who left."

Fireworks go off outside, signifying the beginning of a new year, and you and Jason stand across from each other. Physically, only the kitchen island stands between you two, but emotionally, you're still miles apart. You can't hear in his words how much he needs you back in his life, how hard it is for him every night to not climb in through your window and find his spot in the bed you'd shared like he'd done so many times before; and he can't hear in your words how the wound he left in your heart never healed, how it never even started to, and how through him leaving, you found out that time doesn't heal all things.

[bowieandqueen11]

Resolved Issues / Roman Roy Imagine

Request: HIIIII gonna send my succession request while i still can lol.

how about roman and reader sharing childhood stories? him realising that perhaps, maybe the way his family has treated him is tiny bit Not Normal. the reader being somewhere between "oh my god let me give you a hug" and "i just might fight logan roy in the parking lot". yknow good old hurt/comfort you do it like no other

Thank you so much sweetie!! But also yes I feel this in my soul frick Logan Roy lmao 

Warning: strong language. mentions of diarrhoea and mentions of child abuse/ physical abuse! 

This 3k beast took quite a while to write, so feedback is appreciated! Thank you! :)

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @loverboyromanroy.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Roman shrugs his shoulders and looks steadily at you, straight into your eyes.

‘The fuck- how should I know? Like... twenty three, ish?’

Roman’s perching on the edge of his own sofa, so obviously uncomfortable even in his own apartment. His wrist flicks as he answers, and a few drops of the whiskey he hasn’t touched comes sloshing round the side to stain his brand new eggshell blue decorative pillows. He had never cared much for property. But then again, he hadn’t cared much for whiskey either growing up; it had been his father’s drink of choice, and therefore his. The faint fire in the cold marble fireplace behind his head licks between his ears, and illuminates the confused amusement gleaming in his eyes.

You scoff, and shake your head at him incredulously. ‘You own twenty three houses, and you choose to live here?’ Awaiting an answer you know will be even more ridiculous, you make an effort to tuck your legs criss-cross under you, and sit with your knees resting just underneath Roman’s lower legs. ‘And yet you still live in the coldest ass apartment, I swear to god I’m freezing my ass off, and that’s even with the fire going. Are you a fucking yeti or something, Roman Roy?’

He chortles as you continue: ‘you thrive in colder climates, huh? That’s not surprising, considering a glare from your father could freeze hell over.’ You take a final sip of your drink before reaching over and placing it on the sleek black coffee table; Roman’s eyes drop for a split second as if almost in despondency, some kind of deep scarred sorrow peeking its way out like a tired child, before rising back to yours, seeking comfort. It doesn’t slip your attention. You make sure your fingers brush against his socks as you slip your hands back to your lap, and give a sweet squeeze to the tippy toes. He lets out a giggle and kicks his foot out at you, and it’s the most delightful sound you’d ever hear: that true, unadulterated happiness that Roman Roy rarely ever is permitted to have, without some kind of malicious intention lurking behind it.

‘Okay, well, one’, he ostentatiously holds a finger up by twirling it in the air, and it takes you a second to realise he’s pointedly showing you his middle finger. ‘Fuck you. Two-’, he decides to count with his pinkie finger, ‘my dad owns twenty three hours, I own approximately zero fucking squilch of that. And three, I’m a fucking incredible designer - see that Feng Shui over there? All me baby, I would have fucking killed it as an interior design.’

‘Having one sad as fuck looking potted plant by the window and literally no personal items doesn’t count as Feng Shui, dumbass. You’re just sad.’

‘Okay - well - if you’re such a smartass-’, Roman winds his hands up by his head but nearly lets the crystal glass his brother had bought him for his last birthday fall onto the hardwood floor, so he grimaces and gently places it on the rug. He turns back to glance at you, and despite the fact he’s positioning himself as if he’s conducting an interview: elbows resting on knees with hands clasped out before him, face set in stone, he still looks intent and truthfully curious about the answer he’s hoping you’ll give. ‘What was your childhood home like then? I’m sure full of unicorns that shart rainbows and fucking fairies that sneeze glitter from the way you hate my deco.’

You pause to think for a minute, not fully expecting such an honest question to come from Roman Roy. You place a finger gingerly against your lip, and in that second, perched up on the edge of the pristine settee, Roman wishes he could just leap over and replace your fingertip with his lips. He had never been so entranced by someone: never had the privilege of knowing someone from this corporate world who would be so truthful, so different from him. And yet, at the same time, someone who so deliciously, so crudely, so cruelly reminded him of the young child locked in the cage within his heart: so unknowingly let him cling onto the little bit of him he had tried to keep alive. The only bit of him left that wasn’t a Roy. That was just Roman.

Yet, even in the hope that clouded his mind as he awaited your answer, your words came like slices to slit against his throat. ‘Well, I suppose my home was... well, not to sound pedestrian, or super corny, but it was a happy one?’ He nodded, content to bleed out in front of you. ‘There was usually a lot of laughter, and of course a lot of stress, but you know. We could all rely on each other. It was... yeah, it was nice.’ You stop, biting your bottom lip and switching your legs around so you could raise them up and pull them against your chest. 

You didn’t want to look at the man sitting before you suddenly. It was as if he had regressed into himself as you went along: withering, shivering slightly like a frosty chill over an empty playground. It looked - it felt unnatural, as he stared at you without seeing. He blinked languidly for a moment, soaking in your words, before jutting his bottom lip out and trying his best to grin at you. ‘Well, my childhood wasn’t so horrid either. My brother took me and Ken camping once, and although it was fucking sleeting down like bullets of pure fucking ice down by the stream, Connor did eat a fish that looked like a mouldy shoe and spent most of the night running off into the woods holding his ass.’

He snorts then, his little high pitched hyena laugh bubbling out of him as he places the back of his hand against his lips to try and hold it in, and you can’t help but laugh along with him at the sorry image of the supposed Roy brother patriarch scuttling around like a crab with diarrhoea. 

‘That’s sweet, but do you have any other actual memories with your family where someone isn’t being ridiculed?’

‘Woah, hey-’, he holds both his hands up, and slides down from the armrest to come sit in front of you. ‘When you meet my brother, you’ll understand that he deserves it.’ You flush slightly at the implication, becoming rather uncharacteristically bashful around Roman, and glancing quickly down between your legs. Pulling at a thread until it becomes loose, you pray the timid fire glow is enough to hide from him the rushing heat crawling up your neck. Due to the fact that Roman also is shyly looking down at the toes he’s currently wiggling to busy himself, you both miss the way the other is blushing. 

‘But...uh’, he starts finally after a moment of contemplation: a blessed few minutes of serendipitous indulgence, of growing warmth and familiarity, and just enough time for the two of you to realise how much your presence and conversation had only furthered endeared the two of you to each other, despite the hint of sadness that laced it. 

‘I really - I mean, my dad was like, always busy.’ He scratches the back of his head, embarrassed by the way you tilt your head and look quizzically at him. He becomes hyper aware of how close his knee is to resting against yours, and decides to swallow the fear that seems to be clogging up the back of his throat, and shuffles forward until there’s finally contact. ‘And my brother was like, following in his footsteps and all that jazz’, his eyes widen as he holds his hands out by his side. ‘So there wasn’t really much time for... fun, I guess. Or mistakes. Or family.’

It breaks your heart to watch him deflate once he finishes speaking, and suddenly the austere, cold walls and empty, hollow halls of his apartment make all the more sense. He looks so worn out, so tired of having to hide himself away behind a big, empty mansion full of props and antiques and nothingness all put out for show, because that’s what he was. That’s how he saw himself. A big, empty, tired, twisted puppet trying to bend over backwards to escape the marionette strings of daddy’s love, not realising they’re choking him. It was a strategy, a way to protect himself: to become placid, to mask yourself as being one of them, to fit in with his father’s lifestyle, and maybe then the slaps and strikes and kicks and whimpers would feel like something good. Because he’s trying to be just like his father. So if he’s hit, it’s only because the puppet hasn’t quite danced to the right tune, that’s all. 

As you glance around, you finally begin to notice how unused all the furniture in Roman’s apartment looks: the cellarette by the bar that looks as if it had been varnished yesterday, to the large screen television on the either side of the elongated room that Roman clearly only put on once a night to watch the news, to the velvet cushioned armchair positioned to sweep out and look across the skyline of the city, yet the headrest didn’t even have a dent. All these things. All this barrenness. It made you sick to your stomach. Here he was: a toy left on the shelf to collect dust, taken out to play with only when it suited the puppet master, and he was still so desperate for love that he still tried to copy his father. 

And you could see from the way his eyes were beginning to turn blood shot as he slowly sat there and turned the cogs in the back of his brain over, that this was a thought he had had many times before.

You try your best not to look at him too pitifully, in case he might take offence and retreat back into his shell again when you hold out your hands to him. He swallows thickly, watching your every movement as your fingers unfurl over his knees, and you signal at him to come closer. For a moment, as he squints his eyes at you, he seems tentative. But then you roll your eyes, trying your best to still seem casual, and flutter your fingers at him again. 

It takes less than a second for him to latch on this time, and his fingers grip into the sides of your skin so tightly you’re afraid he may draw blood. But then, you suppose, that’s all he’s been familiarised with.

‘It’s fine, I’m fine’, he tries to shrug it off, but his fingers only squeeze into yours all the more desperately. Worried he’ll try and pull away if you keep them suspended between your touching knees, you slowly pull them down to rest on your lap as he continues talking. He begins to play with your fingers almost subconsciously, looping them through his stout ones. ‘I mean, sure, my earliest memory is Shiv trying to drown me in the pool because she didn’t want so many older brothers to take all of daddy’s attention away from her. And Ken was never really present, dad was always shipping him away to some conference training or having him sit at his feet like his lap dog, but it’s fine. I’m fine. I grew up to be a well adjusted adult without any concerning issues at all.’

Although his tone is mocking, once he’s finished his rambling thought he lets go of your hand to rub his eyes. He does a half-yawn to try and cover the fact that they’re becoming rather bleary - to hide the fact that this is beginning to get at him, actually. And he’d rather stop now, if that’s alright. He’s the jokester in the family. The happy man. The go to cheer-upper. The pathetic one. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to cry in front of you. He was never allowed to cry.

He jumps when he feels your hand against his knee, and he sniffles slightly when he looks down and sees you’ve leaned closer towards him. ‘And your dad?’, you ask quietly, cautiously, pulling the hand of his you were still holding tightly into your sternum. ‘What was he like growing up?’

‘Well, I was annoying. I- I am annoying, so, you know-’

He chokes then, and this time he can’t stop the sob that breaks out from the back of his throat like an overdue bell chime.

‘I’m annoying. I’m fucking annoying, you know that?’, he chokes out between sobs, doubling over on himself, but he’s still laughing between each gasping breathe. ‘I’m such a piece of shit’, he states, doing his best to stop his lip from wobbling and the tears from clouding out of his eyes, but he doesn’t complain when you take your hand off his lap and guide it to the small of his back, just before the dip in his shoulder blades. Gently - ever so gently, as if you were cradling a new born child still so unused to human touch, you guide him down to lie on your legs. He goes easily, taking his hands back to lean them under his chin, and allowing you full utility of your fingers. You put them to good use, beginning to stoke back stray curls of his mother’s hair away from his face, tucking them behind his ear until his breathing evens again.

He watches the sun fall over the edge of the Waystar Royco building: a sight he has seen many times before, but one that feels all the more eerie as the slates of dark metal blot out the light like a flashy tomb.

You bring him back, pursing your lips together and trying not to laugh sorrowfully as he sneezes at the feel of your finger moving down his forehead to trace over the dip of his nose, and evidently tickle it. You move onto the curve of his left eye, and it fills you with at least a little comfort to notice the way he squeezes his eyes shut at the movement. What was less welcome, though, were the few pearly tears that slipped past the cracks of his eyes and began to trace down the old bruised shaped hollows of his cheeks.

‘God Roman’, you choke out, trying to gently turn his head so he’s looking up at you. For a moment, he throws a tantrum and shakes his head in refusal, but your fingers are unrelenting and all forgiving against the side of his jaw, and soon he can’t help but give in to the love he’s so desperately begging for. He allows you to turn him, still squirming in your touch, until the two of you make eye contact. And there’s such naivety there, such desire and craving and conviction and belief as he keeps his eyes trained wholly on yours, that the words just come tumbling out of your mouth.

‘I’m going to fight your whole family I swear. I’m going to fight them all, one by one, and then take over Waystar, maybe find out what the fuck is going on between this Cousin of yours and Shiv’s husband’, he chortles at that, and chokes a little, ‘and then the two of us can burn the place to the ground and ride off into the sunset.’

Although he feels only elation at your words, he starts to shake when you use the pads of his thumbs to gently, tenderly wipe the tears away from beside his nose.

‘Stop, please’, he whimpers, but you know he’s not talking about your physical actions. ‘My dad’s never going to die, even if he is gone. Just- just- get out while you can, okay? Just fucking run.’ He grabs up at your hands, and holds onto one intently. ‘Just fucking go, okay, because I will destroy you. I’m- fucking poison, alright?’

‘No, no’, you state more firmly, when you see the creases in his forehead begin to appear. He shakes his head, and his whole face crinkles up when you admit the one thing left unspoken between the two of you.

‘You - you’re worth it. You’re worth putting up with all of this for, Roman Roy. One day, you’ll be free, and we’ll get to make new memories. Better ones.’

‘Just shut up. Shut the fuck up. Please. Just-’

His words die out on his mouth when you lean down swiftly and replace them with your waiting lips. His hand falls from where it was encircling your wrist, and after a moment of stunned shock, comes up to press firmly against the nape of your neck. His widened eyes melt slowly into a blissful, languid close, and despite the fact that he has no fucking idea how to actually kiss someone he cares about, he does a mighty good job of latching onto your bottom lip and whimpering when you go to pull away.

‘You promise’, he whispers into the tense air between the tip of your nose and the side of his stubble. He leans up to kiss you again, and a bite of saltiness stings at your mouth. ‘You promise’, he murmurs again as he opens his mouth, refusing to break away from the kiss: instead breathing you in and licking the tip of his tongue against your own. Steadying yourself, you grip onto his biceps, and press a last, ardent kiss to his mouth by latching onto his top lip.

‘I swear, Roman, I swear to god I’m going to make up for all the lack of love your family has given you. And I’ll start right now.’