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flowerandblood · 8 months ago

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The Fall from the Heavens (16)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, dirty talk, breeding kink, description of wounds and trauma, remorse ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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He remembered little of their journey back to King's Landing; it seemed to him that his conversation with Daemon, and before that with Aegon, had been a dream, and that it had all not really happened. Throughout the journey, he kept his cheek pressed against his wife's temple, feeling great relief but also fear.

He was sure she would run away.

He was sure she would let him down again, and some part of him wished she would.

Why?

When they reappeared in the Red Keep there were only a few hours left until dawn; he instructed his guards to convey to his brother as soon as he woke up, that he should call a meeting of the Small Council where he would be able to give a brief report of what had happened.

Afterwards, he and his wife both retired to his chamber, stripping out of their riding attire, speechless and exhausted. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, feeling a tightness in his throat, wondering why he felt tense, why he was not rejoicing.

He swallowed loudly as he realised that he had expected a betrayal on her part, because it would make things a lot easier for him.

He could then turn his back on her and her family once and for all, shed his illusions, become who he had been for eight years again.

It frightened him that now, when it was obvious that she had proved her loyalty to him, that she had chosen him at last, so many things remained unsaid, silenced, repressed.

He felt her uncertain gaze on him as she stayed in just her nightgown, heard his bed creak quietly under the weight of her body.

"My love?" He heard her soft voice and grunted, staying in only his breeches and linen shirt.

She twisted towards him as he lay down beside her on his back, placing his hands on his stomach, sighing heavily with exhaustion.

He shuddered when he felt her warm, soft hand on his – their fingers began to trail and rub against each other in the air, just like when she had come to him that first night after many years of separation.

"Speak to me, Aemond. Don't lock yourself in your mind." She said calmly; something in her words, in the fact that she sensed his anxiety made him swallow loudly, opening and closing his mouth several times, unable to get anything out. He finally shook his head, closing his eyes, deciding there was no point.

"Say it. Say all the things you've always wanted to say to me. Even if those words will only cause me pain. I want to know."

He opened his eyes, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad, a shiver ran along his spine.

"I will never understand how could you leave me then." He finally said in a voice filled with regret and venom – he felt her twist next to him restlessly, drawing in air loudly.

He didn't look at her, but he felt her hand tighten on his.

"That was never my intention."

"Then why?"

"My mother then told me to let you rest and calm down. That the guards wouldn't let me visit you anyway by order of the Queen."

"What a nonsense."

"I am speaking the truth. When I wanted to pay you a visit a few days later, Criston Cole sent me away."

He felt his heart stop at those words; his whole body tensed, his breath stuck in his throat as he finally looked at her with wide-eyed expression.

"What?"

He felt her thumb stroke his palm, her eyes looking at him pleadingly.

"I swear, five days after what happened, I came to pay you a visit. I came every day after that, but he always sent me away. He said you didn't want to see me." She mumbled, and he snorted in disbelief and amusement, shaking his head. He looked at her in shock, wanting to see anything in her face that could confirm that she was lying.

He swallowed hard, embittered, leaning the back of his head against the back of the bed.

"It doesn't matter. I needed you when it happened."

"I needed you too. When Criston Cole held my cheeks as your mother's guards poured moon tea down my throat. I wondered at the time if that's how you felt." She said with weariness, sadness and indifference from which he felt an unpleasant squeeze in his stomach; he felt his lips part involuntarily, a hot, overpowering wave of shame surge through his body.

They stared at each other for a moment in silence, just breathing, not moving or saying anything, her hand still on his, warmth and reassurance in her touch.

For the first time in eight years, they spoke honestly about what had happened.

"Why didn't you ever write me back?" She asked at last, her voice trembling slightly, as if the very thought of it made tears of regret rise in the corners of her eyes.

He clamped his eyelids shut, sighing heavily, this time it was his fingers that stroked her hand.

"I've tried. I tried so many times. But I was unable to fill the parchment because no words seemed to describe what I was feeling. I couldn't put my thoughts into sentences. Everything that came out from under my hand was the ramblings of a madman and ended up burning in the fire. Then it was too late. I didn't see the point." He said, not believing that these words had left his mouth; he glanced at her uncertainly out of the corner of his eye, a single, solitary tear ran down the side of her face.

"You didn't even let me explain myself. You didn't give me a chance despite the fact that I've never let you down before." She muttered, and he swallowed loudly, feeling an unbearable tightness in his throat.

"I know."

He took his hand from her grasp and put his arm around her – her body immediately clung to his, entwining with his like a vine, her face sunk into the hollow of his neck, his hand roaming lazily down her back while his lips placed warm, lingering kisses on the top of her head.

They fell asleep for the few hours separating them from dawn in their tight embrace, not like lovers, but like they used to when they were children, holding hands, their foreheads touching.

He felt how, as she awoke, her fingers stroked his cheek gently, her lips placed a warm, soft kiss on his, which he reciprocated with a low murmur of satisfaction, without even opening his eyes.

For the first time in eight years, he felt at peace.

For the first time in eight years, he felt relief.

His closest friend was by his side again.

They were both just dreaming of sleeping on when Criston Cole walked into his chamber announcing that the King had called an immediate meeting of the Small Council in accordance with his wishes.

He sighed heavily, rising slowly from his bed, ordering his servants to prepare a suitable tunic for him. He turned, looking at her over his shoulder, his broad hand stroking her bare calf with a soft, lazy gesture.

"Accompany me. Be by my side."

The sight of her walking behind him as the door of the chamber in which all those gathered sat opened before them did not satisfy his grandfather or his mother.

He pretended not to see their warning glances, instead ordering one of the servants standing nearby to place a second chair right next to his, where he took his seat, placing his sapphire ball in a niche in the stone table.

"Speak, brother." Aegon began without undue politeness or introduction. His mother, his grandfather and Criston Cole were all opposed to their idea, however Lord Lannister and the other houses supporting them were far more accepting of the news that perhaps the whole matter of succession would be resolved without a bloody, kingdom-destroying war.

"Our uncle is as brazen as I remember him to be, however, despite his misgivings, he has not declined our offer. He will certainly pass on our words to our sister. We must wait." He replied truthfully; his mother sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands.

"What if no son is born to you, Aemond? If it is officially the sons of Rheanyra and Daemon who become heirs, they will kill us all for treason." She said with impatience, grief and horror – he opened his mouth to reply, however his wife forestalled him.

"You may have killed the child in my womb who could have been the heir we so need now. We will never know, will we?" She sneered, and he felt an unpleasant shiver run down his back.

His hand clenched into a fist at the mere memory of what had happened and what she had done next. He looked at his wife's face out of the corner of his eye and swallowed hard, seeing in her expression strenght, determination and confidence.

Just what he needed.

Complete silence fell, his mother lowered her head, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"As I said, we have to wait. We have done what we could."

The fact that Aegon had agreed to try to come to an agreement over the succession did not mean that either of them were going to give up preparing for a possible war, so they spent the rest of the meeting discussing what they would do if that plan failed. The King then asked his wife to leave; she rose and left without a word, touching his shoulder with her hand beforehand.

Something had changed between them, he could feel it.

As he watched the door close behind her, he realised that after she had decided to come back with him instead of running away with Daemon, after what he had confessed to her the wall that had been piling up between them since the night he had tamed Vhagar had finally collapsed.

When he returned to his quarters he did not find her there, so he headed for her chamber, informing the guards that no one was to disturb them. As he stepped inside he noticed her figure sitting by the window, bent over the embroidery of the Arryn family crest; the sun was beaming down on her face, he could feel a pleasant summer breeze all around her.

She lifted her gaze to him and smiled in a way he knew, one he remembered well from when they were children; what touched him in that look, in that smile, was the confirmation that she felt the same as he did, that she knew that something had finally changed between them, had set in on the right track.

He approached her slowly, involuntarily extending his hand towards her cheek; he watched as she pressed her face into his skin rough from holding the sword and sighed quietly as her lips placed a soft, warm kiss on his palm.

Gods, how he loved her.

He took the cloth from her hand and set it aside, grabbing her waist and lifting her, seating her in front of him on the top of the old wooden table. She stared at him with her eyes wide open, surprised, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath, betraying her uncertainty and excitement; he took a step towards her, so that their faces were almost touching, cupping her cheek in his palms, so soft, so warm.

She smelled of vanilla.

He looked at her, at her bright, warm gaze, at her gentle face, which had so much of that childishness of many years ago in it, while being more mature, more girlish, more tempting; her dark lashes shone in the sunlight as she closed her eyelids feeling his thumb run slowly over her fleshy, moist lower lip.

She was his wife.

What he wanted had truly come true.

She stood before him again, his childhood friend, his lover.

"Rhaenys." He whispered and she opened her eyes, looking at him in disbelief; he saw her cheeks flush, her body trembled all over with delight. She raised her hand and he moved away immediately, horrified when he realised she wanted to grab his black eye patch.

"No."

"You're my husband. That's enough." She said regretfully and tiredly, taking his face in her hands. He looked down at her, breathing heavily, his eyebrows arched in uncertainty, in shame, in fear.

"Don't spoil this beautiful day for me." He said at last in a low, hoarse voice. She pressed her lips together as if his words caused her pain, her fingers sliding down his jaw, dropping powerlessly.

"One step forward, two steps back." She said softly, and he swallowed hard, feeling a squeeze in his throat at her words. He sighed loudly through his nose, licking his lower lip with his tongue, fighting with himself.

He didn't know what had happened, what had changed, what had brought him to reach up to his face, to grab his eye patch and pull it off with a sudden, aggressive movement, throwing it impatiently to the ground.

He saw her raise her shoulders high, frightened by his sudden gesture, her lips parted in disbelief, her pupils narrowed as she looked straight at him. He expected her to turn her face away at this sight, to betray herself with a stare full of disgust or fear, but instead her eyes turned red from the tears that had gathered in their corners.

"Come." She whispered, grabbing the material of his tunic with her hand, pulling him closer; he involuntarily took a few steps forward, shocked by her reaction, by her expression, as if what she had seen had moved her greatly, but not in the way he had expected. "Come here."

Her hand lifted higher, to his cheek – he closed his eyes, feeling his whole body freeze as her fingers ran gently over the line along which his scar ran.

"Oh, my dearest, you must have suffered so much. It must have caused you so much pain. For so many, so many months, you must have died every day. Forgive me." She mumbled out in a trembling, breaking voice, from which he pressed his lips together, himself touched for some reason, embittered and grateful at the same time, because for so long he had been waiting for that very look, that very touch and those words from her, just from her.

She kissed him in a way she had never done before – it was neither a child's kiss nor a lover's kiss; it was a caress full of warmth, moisture and care, a tenderness from which he involuntarily closed her in his arms, leaning lower to press himself tighter to her swollen lips.

Their mouths brushed each other lazily, slowly, unhurriedly, as if they had all the time in the world, their hands stroking each other's faces with gentle, calm movements, birdsong all around them, the loud conversations in the courtyard coming from behind the open window and the quiet, sticky clicks of their saliva.

He felt himself shudder each time his lips pressed against hers again, their arms holding them close together, his lungs filling with her scent.

Vanilla.

His manhood slowly began to swell and throb from those wonderfully innocent caresses full of promise, something they hadn't done before but so desperately needed.

"Make love to me." He whispered into her mouth; she moaned softly, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, forcing them to join together again in a hot, lazy kiss, which he did eagerly.

Only after a moment did their tongues come out to meet each other, their tips beginning to lick teasingly making them both breathe louder; his hands slid lower to her gown, lifting its material higher, exposing her wonderfully soft, bare thighs.

He let her take care of him, undoing the buckles of his tunic and the tying of his breeches as he kissed with emotion her forehead, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her temple.

She was his.

It seemed to him that they had gone back in time, to that day when she had kissed him for the first time.

As if what they were doing now was an extension of that moment.

"Do you think we would have persevered until marriage? With staying in chastity." He gasped, sighing quietly in relief when her skilled fingers finally released his desire-sore manhood, his arm drawing her closer as her thighs spread eagerly before him.

He heard her giggle softly, when he lifted his gaze to her he saw pure joy, warmth and love in her eyes, exactly as they had been then, that day.

"If you want, you can believe it, uncle." She replied tauntingly, just as she always did, just as in his fantasies; he snorted at the thought, sinking his hand into her warm womanhood, already leaking with desire. She tilted her head back, sighing with pleasure as his fingertips ran over her throbbing, moist slit.

"What do you imagine would happen?" He continued on, teasing her with the movements of his finger, which slid a little between her tight, wet muscles, pushing them apart, rubbing her rough bud hidden just above her opening. A soft, sweet moan came from her lips as she swallowed loudly, looking up at him from under half-closed eyelids.

"One night, when I would visit you in your chamber, we would begin to touch. Innocently at first, but eventually you would understand what it feels like to clamp your fingers on the soft breast of your beloved woman. You would understand what pleasure lies deep between my thighs." She cooed sweetly; he gasped loudly, embarrassed by how hard his cock pulsed at her words, which did not escape her attention.

"You'd say you wish to feel me just for a moment −" She whispered, with a gentle flick of her hand directing his swollen, hard length between her thighs; they both moaned quietly as he began to push against her and opened her wide on the thick head of his cock with a soft, firm thrust of his hips. "− but we would both know it was a simple lie, spoken only to make us feel less guilty."

A throaty, low groan escaped his lips at that thought; his hands clamped down on her buttocks covered by the material of her gown, with a deep thrust of his hips forcing her to let him inside her. She whimpered, panting heavily along with him, looking at him with her mouth wide open, as if she didn't recognise him.

She put her hand around the back of his neck, the other resting on the table top, trying to catch her balance as he began to root into her with slow, lazy thrusts, sliding out of her almost all the way, only to sink back between her warm, moist muscles a moment later.

"− Aemond −" She mewled, closing her eyes, responding involuntarily with the rocking of her hips to his treatments – it seemed to him that they were both in a state of some kind of ecstasy that nevertheless had more to do with what they had shared when they were children than now, when they were united by fire and blood.

"− and what would you do? − hm? − what would you do if I put it inside you and told you I wouldn't stop until I filled you? −" He breathed out, involuntarily quickening his pace; she moaned pleadingly at his shameless question, her fleshy, hot core clenched tightly around his erection, sucking it inside her, their bodies slapping against each other with loud smacks of skin against skin.

"− I would beg for your seed −" She mumbled out; his hand tightened on her hair at her words, his lips clinging to hers in a greedy, hot kiss full of their tongues and saliva, in a caress not filled with hatred and aggression but pure, hot desire.

"− so fucking beg −" He growled into her mouth between their quick, loud kisses, their lips with a sticky click clinging and pulling away from each other as their bodies found their own pace to pleasure, his thick cock pulsing with desire slamming into her so deep and fast that he seemed to run out of breath, her cheeks and lips all pink with exertion.

"− please, uncle − put your heir inside me −" She whimpered helplessly and that was enough for him – he pressed his forehead against hers, panting loudly, holding her close in a strong embrace in his arms, with a few sloppy, sticky thrusts prolonging the inevitable to finally spill deep inside her. He feel a powerful orgasm shake her body, her head tilted back with a sweet cry of pleasure.

"− yes − yes, oh, gods, uncle, fill me −" She mumbled, her hands drawing him back to her mouth, their lips devouring each other in fierce, moist kisses as the last drops of his spend filled her womb. They both rocked their hips for a while longer with loud clicks of her wetness, panting quietly as they tried to calm their breathing, their hands roaming over their bodies, their eyes closed, focused only on the relief they both felt.

"− this is how I always imagined us − you and me when we were married −" She whispered, and he sighed, understanding what she meant.

Though united by passionate affection, regret, distrust and grief dominated their every approach.

"− my wife begging for my seed is indeed an important part of my vision of a perfect marriage −" He sneered, noticing the amusement in her eyes when she understood that he was teasing her.

That he had returned to her, that she had won him back, that she was looking at the boy she had lost that night.

Her lips parted in disbelief when she noticed that the corner of his mouth lifted upwards, gently, not mockingly, not maliciously.

He smiled.

For the first time in so many years.

He stroked her cheek with his hand as her eyebrows arched in pain, as her eyes glazed over from the tears that ran down her face one by one onto his warm palm.

They kissed again, then again and again, warmly, tenderly, innocently, devotedly, with the affection he had dreamed of for so many years and he thought, hiding this realisation deep in his heart, that this was the happiest day of his life.

The day he got his best friend back.

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deonsx · 2 months ago

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Subject and scientist love (Dazai x Reader)

Content: Smut!, Forbidden love

Dazai is a 22-year-old scientist in a science laboratory, which makes him the youngest scientist there. He has a high-level authority and he has always been curious about the subjects responsible for his research. The subjects were half-human, but they were imprisoned here because they had animal characteristics. The only difference between the subjects from humans is their special abilities and, in rare cases, elf ears and tails Dazai is known for taking very careful care of his subjects, he spent years here at least, but one of the subjects was on his way to becoming the most special of all to him, he just didn't realize it yet

Dazai was a very strict scientist, he never deviated from the rules and he hated those who broke the rules. This was his field of work. He always got along well with the subjects, but he was careful not to be sincere. He always took care of the work procedure and did not show unnecessary closeness. Dazai's longest subject was the one he worked with for 4 years. It was his s/o. The subject is a 20-year-old young girl. She has elf features. Even though her powers have not been discovered yet, she has a very affectionate nature and is also very brave. Since she did not cause any problems for 4 years, she won the heart of even a cold person like Dazai.

After another tiring day at work, Dazai retreated to his office and leaned on the chair and looked at the clock. When he saw that the check-out time was approaching, he started to pack up, but it occurred to him that he had not visited his s/o today today her birthday, even though her was a test subject, when he was with her... it was strange, everything was so lively... Dazai quickly shook the thought out of his mind, he got angry at himself for such a thought, "She's nothing more than a test subject" he muttered to himself and went to the room where s/o was kept, he lifted his card to press the door and the door slowly opened inside, there was a girl sitting on her bed in a short nightgown. It appeared that the room was dark, only the moonlight coming from the window at the top was illuminating the room. The only scientist in the laboratory was Dazai at the moment.

The girl quickly got up from her bed and happily ran to dazai "I missed you!" The girl was very intrusive as always, they only had a business relationship and she had no choice but to remind him of it, but on a day like this? If they were to discuss business procedures even on the girl's birthday, it would break the girl's heart. When the girl hugged Dazai, Dazai waited for a while, but then responded, "I'm glad about that, I couldn't come in the morning due to work," he felt the need to explain, "Happy birthday..." The girl slowly backed away, "I can't see my gift?" he asked with a chuckle. Dazai took a deep breath. It was forbidden to bring anything from outside to the subjects here. He couldn't give them anything. He couldn't even remember the last time he bought someone a gift. "I can't bring you anything from outside in the laboratory."

"What if what I want is in the lab?" Dazai blinked at the girl's answer. "Something you want from the laboratory? Yes, I can give it to you." With a slight smile, Dazai wished that the girl had something to give him on his birthday. "Okay then...there will be no turning back." Before he could even comprehend what the girl said, he was pulled from her hand and sat on the bed. S/o gently grabbed Dazai’s wrist, who was trying to move away again, and brought their faces closer again “It's just the two of us here, you don't need to be wary of anyone” Dazai’s lips came closer... Before dazai approached, she said something and both of their hearts beat fast. ...I love...I love you..their feelings for each other...were not invisible

her pleading gaze locking onto his own. He swallowed hard, feeling a mix of confusion and unexpected warmth at her words. This was not part of the protocol, not at all. Yet, as their faces drew closer, dazai found himself unable to look away. His mind raced with thoughts, struggling to reconcile his professional duties with the raw emotion in front of him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to indulge in the idea of reciprocating her feelings. But then reality set in - he was her scientist, her caretaker. This kind of relationship would only complicate things further. With great reluctance, he gently moved her hand away and leaned back, putting some distance between them. "S/o..." He started, his voice barely above a whisper. He paused, searching for the right words. "I care about you, more than I probably should. But we can't...we're not the same."

the two were still whispering so they could hear each other “I love you....you should at least be honest with me...what if I were human...then would you reject me again”

Dazai felt his resolve weakening. He knew he couldn't lie to her, not when she was baring her soul like this. He took her hand in his, thumb gently stroking her knuckles. His brown eyes met hers with a flicker of sadness. "If you were human, things might be different." He admitted softly. It was a hypothetical situation that tugged at his heartstrings. He'd always been drawn to strong-willed individuals, and S/o was no exception. Her resilience amidst all this was truly remarkable. "But you're not human,s/o..." He continued, his tone firm but gentle. "You're a hybrid, and I'm your scientist. We have roles to play here, lines we can't cross. And even if you were human, I don't know if I could give you what you want”

"You can give me anything..Osamu.." the girl's intoxicating voice distracted the boy and fascinated his mind, but this did not happen with any power. The rhythm in Dazai's heart could be heard even from outside. While the two of them were now in each other's arms, Dazai thought how wrong this contact was. ...but still he was here. S/o left kisses on Dazai's face, leaving nothing on his lips. They gently grabbed the girl and fell into the intoxicating kiss "You know you want me dazai..."

Dazai bit the girl's lip and made it bleed as if he wanted to interrupt s/o’s words, but then she licked her lip and gave her deep kisses, “what kind of thing are you...” Dazai’s resolve crumbled as s/o’s lips found his once again, her words like fire in his ears. He knew he shouldn't have allowed this to happen, but he couldn't resist the temptation any longer. His hands found their way under her shirt, tracing the curves of her back as he returned her kisses with fervor. In the back of his mind, a voice screamed at him to stop, to remember his job and responsibilities, but he silenced it ruthlessly. For now, he wanted to feel alive, to experience something real beyond the confines of the lab. His fingers tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing against hers. The taste of her blood on his lips only served to heighten his desire. He knew this was a dangerous path, but for now,dazai chose to follow it. "Fuck," he breathed against her mouth, his voice hoarse with need. "What are you doing to me…”

Dazai’s hands fumbled with s/o’s clothes, pulling them off with an urgency that surprised him. He could feel her warmth against his skin, her heart beating rapidly in sync with his own. His lips left trails of fire down her neck, nipping and sucking gently, leaving bruises in his wake. His own clothing soon followed, discarded haphazardly on the cold floor. Dazai’s fingers traced over s/o’s collarbone, then lower, exploring her body with a mix of hunger and reverence. His breath hitched as he felt her hands on him, her touch sending electric shockwaves coursing through his veins. He pressed her against the bed, his body aligning with hers, the heat between them threatening to ignite the sterile room. Dazai knew this was wrong, but in this moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. He needed this release, this connection, this reminder that he was still human despite his work with hybrids. As they continued to explore each other, dazai couldn't help but wonder if this would change things between them forever

He knew he shouldn't be doing this - it went against protocol, against his morals - but he found himself unable to resist. With one swift motion, he lifted her onto the bed, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. His lips trailed down her jawline, nipping at her earlobe before whispering, he pulled out the keycard to her cell, placing it on the bed within his reach. If he wanted to stop, he could. But as he positioned himself at her entrance, he could feel her body arching towards him, inviting him in.Dazai pushed past the last of his doubts and entered her, groaning at the tightness that enveloped him. His movements were slow at first, allowing her to adjust, but soon he was moving with a rhythm born of desperation. He couldn't deny the thrill he felt, knowing he was crossing a line he shouldn't have. But the feel of s/o beneath him, her nails scratching at his back, her breaths coming in ragged pants, made it impossible to think of anything else

He felt her body tensing up around him as she neared climax, her breaths turning into moans that filled the otherwise silent laboratory. Dazai’s hands gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white with restraint, as he tried to maintain control. He wanted this moment to last, to savor every second of their forbidden connection before reality came crashing down on them both. His lips found hers again, swallowing her cries as their bodies moved in perfect harmony. Dazai couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret - this wasn't just about satisfying his desires; he had allowed himself to become emotionally involved with a test subject, something he had always promised himself he wouldn't do. But as s/o’s nails dug deeper into his back and her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer

Dazai knew he couldn't stop now. He moved faster, harder, driving them both towards the edge. When she finally came apart beneath him, her body convulsing with pleasure,Dazai let go of his own control and followed suit, burying his face in her neck to muffle his groans. As they lay there, panting and spent, dazai couldn't help but wonder how he would ever explain this to his superiors...or himself

“We will hide our forbidden love from everyone, my love”

Enjoy!

It was a really long story, it wasn't difficult as I was writing it because the subject was very interesting to me and think of it as compensation for not posting for a long time ^^

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd dazai #dazai smut #dazai x y/n #dazaibsd

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goingbuggy · 3 months ago

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Hello! I’ve seen people on twitter joke about the film blue. What would you pitch for your peak film blue?

Hope your day is good 💖

Hi, anon! I love joking about Film Blue, too. It's fun to imagine a hypothetical counterpart to Film Red, but also I feed off delusion like a parasite anyway lol.

To answer your question, though, my ideal Film Blue would have actually been an alternate version of Film Red -- a world where Uta was found by Buggy instead of being raised by Gordon after the Elegia massacre. It's become a fanon idea to have Uta and Buggy interact, which I love, but I don't think this came about randomly; Buggy and Uta have a few fundamental similarities which make it possible to imagine a world where he could have raised her instead. And for the content of Film Red, which is in many ways a dissection of Shanks' morals, Buggy's involvement makes perfect sense.

Both Uta and Buggy are characters shaped by/caught in the fallout of Shanks' sacrifices for his perceived "greater good." In Uta's case, Shanks sacrificed his connection with her because he believed that she could better the world and live a happier life as a singer. So, when she accidentally caused the massacre on Elegia, Shanks shouldered the blame to protect her, but at the cost of their relationship. (I talk more in-depth about this in my "Shanks Savior Complex" meta.)

Buggy's case is more complex and admittedly does involve some speculation, but I think Shanks' passive response during the Loguetown split shows my point well enough. Shanks did want Buggy to stay by his side, but he did not fight for his own desires in that regard. We don't know why Shanks seemed so detached at the time, but it is my personal theory that this directly relates to Shanks' overarching goal in the series: to see out Roger's legacy. Again, it appears to be a situation where the "greater good" outweighs Shanks' own personal happiness, and thus causes him to sacrifice important relationships.

Shanks has an interesting duality to him -- he's a very level-headed decision-maker, but this is simultaneously what makes his interpersonal skills so subpar. ("Shanks isn't a mature guy," as Oda says.) Unlike Luffy, I'd argue that Shanks is not a very emotionally intelligent character; his strength comes from his extrapolation and attention to detail. He notices patterns and is thus able to foresee future events that others do not -- the war at Marineford being one such example. He sought out Whitebeard because he knew Ace's revenge plot could easily escalate out of control, and guess what? It did! However, his focus on details often leads him to neglect the "bigger picture," or the thing hiding in plain sight. Shanks' interactions with Blackbeard show this, too; Blackbeard was able to fly under Shanks' radar and ultimately scar him because he is a character always hiding in plain sight, waiting for the right moment to strike in such chaotic ways. Blackbeard is unpredictable.

But why does this matter? Well, Shanks also tends to inadvertently hurt those he cares about with his "rational" decision-making, without ever understanding why. He sacrificed his relationship with Uta for the betterment of the world and her own happiness, but failed to realize that his sacrifice is what damaged her the most. She became fixated on her own abandonment to the point that singing was no longer a source of joy, but rather a tool to rid the world of pirates -- the pirates who hurt people, just like Shanks hurt her.

Buggy is quite similar. Shanks gave up on Laughtale and his connection with Buggy for the sake of bettering the world, but this is what caused Buggy's mind to be ruled by bitter resentment and insecurity. He felt abandoned. And just like Uta, he was left in the dark as to the true reason why.

This is why I think Buggy would take in Uta as his own surrogate daughter, the same way Gordon did; he would see himself in Uta, and together, they would bond over their shared resentment. Hell, even Uta's original character design has this cotton candy-esque pink and blue dichotomy. Obviously, this is not intentional on Oda's part, but to me it's just another physical reminder of what could have been Uta's two main influences. Uta yearns for a better world like Shanks, yet that vision of the world has been warped by her own resentment/abandonment, like Buggy. Uta's head and heart feel ruled by Shanks and Buggy's principles respectively. It's great. And I think that potential is a bit wasted on Gordon, who is unfortunately a pretty one-note character.

I think the Uta-Buggy relationship would also perfectly balance out the Luffy-Shanks one. Luffy admires Shanks' way of life as a pirate, and this directly contrasts Uta, who was made into an expendable casualty because of that way of life (despite Shanks' best intentions). So, just as Luffy refused to see Uta's perspective in the actual Film Red, Buggy would cling to Uta's recount and refuse to see Shanks' side of things. Luffy and Buggy bounce off of each other so well in canon already, so a movie which pits them against each other due their differing views of Shanks would work well, in my opinion. Not only that, but it would be a good story that relates to a lot of Oda's wider messages -- namely, that history can easily be warped depending on the perspective you view it from.

#idk how this turned into my thesis on why uta could technically be shuggy's ideological love child but hey #glad it happened anyway #also i think the subplots of film red are stupid and the movie itself deserved to be more focused than it actually is #they didn't dive deep enough into shanks' own moral shortcomings imo #uta #uta one piece #buggy the clown #one piece #shanks #shuggy #akagami no shanks #buggy #ask #long post #one piece meta #sort of #idk does my own personal breakdown of shanks' core philosophies count as meta #film red

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tassodelmiele · 4 months ago

Text

Tickles

And here we are again with NSFW, a Ghost x Reader a little...wet.

There's a little bit of pissing content. Not that much, but please, read just if you don't find it repulsive.

I can't say much more, I should be listening the terrible lesson I've paid for, since Italy wants professors to be burned out from burocracy, and also wants all of our goddamn money.

...........................

Legs are trembling like pudding thrown too early out of the fridge; hip is burning like a char muffin.

You're a rotten dessert, too baked to think straight, too melted to stand on your own.

And in the hell of a disaster that mission is, you're finding yourself being held in two reliable hands as if you're a melted ice cube supposed to be spooned.

And he's doing it without complaining.

You hiss a painful whimper under the touch of his digits on the bandage, brand new and already blood-soaked. Your hands run instinctively on his wrists, but he's stone-still in his duty to support your weight.

You come back clinging on his gear, grasping fingers around it while his touch lowers to your belt.

Ghost's voice hit you like a burning knife under skin, tattooing your awareness of the current condition:

No. No, there isn't, you know it's just a normal, physiologic need.

But maybe feel the urge to pee in the middle of a goddamn nowhere, while hiding from who knows what kinda enemy, and with your hip torn by a flying bullet…maybe, maybe, it's not the best way to spend time.

Particularly if you can't stand by yourself.

Ghost holds your untied trousers with both hands, murmuring: «'M gonna get rid of this», waiting for your nodding forehead to brush onto his gear and give him permission.

Is a little bit of a jump in the void as cold air hits your tights slowly being undressed to the knees. He makes all the right moves to not let you without a grip.

<'S bleeding?>

You shake your head, murmuring a: <No>, referred to the goddamn wound.

<Good. Ready to crouch?>

Your nod it's the signal to proceed, and he follows your body through the movement till you two end up squatting on the ground, you with yellow panties exposed and the overflowing bladder, him with masked eyes wandering on the ceiling.

You try your best to move the panites away just how much it's required not to wet them; then, you're kinda ready.

It's not working, though. And you realize it with an embarrassed clenched of your teeth on the inner cheeks, and a nervous breath that causes the Lt's reaction.

<Problems?>

You chew a flustered: <I can't>

He frowns.

You know how much of a pain in the arse you're being, and you're expecting at least to be left in that dark hole, crouched on the ground, and be considered a lost cause.

That until his gloved digits slide down just a little from your hips, giving you shivers on your naked tights' skin.

<'Ve heard tickle comes in handy> is the rough, muffled explanation.

You can sense gooseflesh growing where he touches.

Ghost's fingers trace your body lightly, trembling a little while trying to be as soft as possible, to not make you lose balance. Your hands are gripped so tight around his gear, but he's a wall in front of you, holding you still with one hand and painting your edges with the other.

He makes a sudden move, sliding between your buttcheeks.

You whimper: instantly, uselessly choking breath on his chest; and a tiny, little drop starts to flow down there, dripping from your throbbing cunt.

You're not quite sure it's pee, though.

<'S working?>

You don't know how to answer.

And his fingers come back, raising on the little of your spine left uncovered.

<You're trembling>

You're knotted, clinging onto him, grasping on his gear while something drips between your opened tights, and it's clearly not easy for your brain to focus on something which is not his presence on your skin.

Ghost curls up on you a little more, placing his bended leg between yours, trying to sustain your weight as much as possible. His free hand is pressed on your back, pulling you on his chest.

<Relax>

His open palm cups your butt, squeezing it softly.

Two fingers start a slow run, up and down between your bottom, sliding on the sweating cold skin, passing on sensitive spots with nonchalance, getting slower as they lower, rising up again, then exploring a little more, deep down.

Till he touches your lips, down there: just a brush, a slight sensation of his gloves.

Your guts make a flip; your bladder lets out a little more, and you're pretty sure your panties are not lowered enough down your tights to be saved.

His voice is a rough caress in your ears, filling up your dizzy mind.

Ghost wide palm gives you a nice couple pats on your butt, suggesting kindly: <Keep on, darlin'>

One last soft spank is enough to stimulate your belly, making it squeeze how it is needed to let a stream of pee come out.

You whine, hide in his gear, so red in the face that your cheeks are burning.

He brushes a low: <Good…> in your ears, holding your burning body, be careful on not touching the hip wound.

<'S everything out?>

You're about to nod in affirmation, to let go of the uncomfortable position, get dressed and pretend nothing happened. Is not just 'cause your knees start to hurt, your hip burns and you're panting as if you were running a goddamn marathon.

It's the arousal growing in your lungs, infesting your lower body and causing your belly to indulge Ghost's hold and firmly collide onto him.

It's the whiny breath you can't control anymore.

It's him, giggling in front of your flustered state, and just letting his hands make its way through all the road between your buttcheeks to the edge of your cunt, wetting his gloves in your stinky juices.

You arch your back, ignoring the pain.

He drowns his digits in you little by little, moving them inside nicely, pressing onto your sticky walls to reach as deeper as he can.

Your bladder throb under his pushes, making you gag a cry.

He thrusts a little more, in and out, just to find the right place where to press his fingers and massage you inside.

Your cunt starts to tighten.

He murmurs: «'S ok babe, suck 'em up», so amused by the sudden reaction of a little stream of leftover golden drops dripping down. He moves again, searching for the little button inside, pressing and pushing on your walls till he feels you tremble against him.

Then he pushes again, drawing little circles inside your sticky cunt.

You whine, throbbing and jerking in his arms, but he's not letting you go. He stirs juices inside you, massaging deep, letting your pleasure grow and overflow on his gloves. You feel your bladder tremble, and it suddenly, totally empty in his hand.

He gets out all of a sudden, tearing his fingers away from your tight cunt. You throb, sobbing a moan in his gear, feeling your grip loosening under the unsatisfied pleasure growing under your belly.

Ghost's wet hand reaches your face, holding your cheeks to lift your sight to him.

...........................

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod #cod fanfic #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #writers on tumblr #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #a wet fanfiction for a terrible summer day #read with responsability

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cre8inghavoc · 7 months ago

Text

What are friends for?

PT. 9

Status: ongoing!!

Updates: no set date.

WC: 5462

Pairing: megumi fushiguro x FEM!reader

Genre/Warnings:[18+] Characters are aged up. This story contains toxic boyfriend, cursing, name calling, self-doubt/hate, angst, breaking up, post-breakup, alcohol, drug use, drunk moments, new friends, dating!au, college!au, no curses!au, dark humour, dark jokes. SMAU. Smut.

Recap:

Megumi’s grip on your waist tightens slightly, eliciting yet another moan from you, making him smirk against your lips. “Missed that fucking voice of yours,” he murmurs in a deeper tone, sending a wave of heat coursing through your body once again. His words, dripping with desire, only serve to fuel the flames of passion between you, leaving you both consumed by the intoxicating heat of the moment.

| [18+] CONTENT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! |

Megumi's hand remains on your waist, as the other is against the wall beside you, offering a sense of grounding as you're pressed against the wall. He breaks the kiss, his gaze capturing your breathless anticipation, and a smirk plays on his lips as he observes your flushed cheeks.

“What are you looking at…” you murmur, feeling a flush of embarrassment as his gaze lingers on you, prompting you to avert your gaze.

"You look so beautiful," he responds, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, which only adds to your embarrassment.

You accidentally glanced down and remembered he wasn't wearing a shirt, which made your face turn even more red as you found yourself staring at his abs. Quickly, you looked away, but he had already noticed. You blurted out, "Put a shirt on," unable to conceal your flustered state.

He teases, "Don't like what you see?"

“What- no! I mean yes…Wait- I mean-” Your response fumbles in a mix of confusion, leaving you feeling even more awkward, a reaction that seems to amuse him.

"Look at me," he softly commands, gently holding your chin and guiding your gaze to meet his.

"Do I make you nervous, angel?" he asks with a touch of cockiness, though his effect on you is undeniable, rendering you momentarily speechless. You part your lips, about to say something, but nothing comes out. His thumb grazes over your bottom lip, intensifying your nervousness.

How cute he thinks to himself, unable to contain a small chuckle.

He leans in, tilting your chin up higher. His lips graze over yours, not fully connecting, but his grin widens at the sight of your increased breathing all because of him. Then, finally, he meets your lips. The kiss starts gently but quickly escalates, fueled by desire and an unspoken connection between you. His touch grows bolder, hands trailing down your body as he effortlessly lifts you, the wall also supporting you. Subconsciously, you wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as the intensity of the kiss deepens, lost in the moment with him.

"Tell me what you want, angel," he prompts, his voice a soft murmur against your lips.

"You... I want you, Gumi," you confess, the nickname slipping out naturally, and the impact it has on him is palpable, a low groan escaping his lips.

Unable to resist any longer, he carries you to his bed, gently laying you down with one hand supporting your head and the other resting firmly on your ass. The passion between you only grows stronger as you continue to explore each other's desires, lost in the heat of the moment.

He leans down towards your neck, and you instinctively tilt your head to the side, granting him better access. Your hands find their way to his undercut, your fingers threading through his locks. As his lips meet your neck, kissing it tenderly, he searches for that sweet spot you adore. With the third kiss, you can't help but let out a soft moan, signaling to him that he's found it. Encouraged, he begins to suck gently on your skin, but then increases the pressure, teasing you with a mix of pain and pleasure, causing your moans to grow louder in response.

And what you were wearing drove him wild — a cute white tennis skirt paired with a black tank top — but it was the sound of your voice when you moaned that truly sent him over the edge. Without realizing it, his hand found its way to rest on your thigh, and he noticed how you subtly opened your legs, silently urging him to continue. He knew exactly what you wanted. As his kisses trailed from your neck down to your collarbone, his hand on your thigh ventured higher and higher. With a gentle graze, his hand brushed over your soaking core, eliciting a gasp from you. He relished in the sound, knowing he was driving you wild.

"Damn angel... already so wet for me, huh?" he chuckles, his hand tracing over your clothed core.

"Fuckkkk... you drive me insane," he groans softly, his gaze shifting down to your legs.

The way his touch teased your core made you ache with need, your body yearning for more sensation.

"Pl-please..." you whimper out, feeling the desperate desire building within you.

He chuckles at your response, his smirk igniting a fire within you. "Please what, angel?" he taunts, his voice dripping with anticipation.

"I need you..." you respond, your voice barely above a whisper, laden with longing.

"Yeah?" he smirks back at you, his gaze smoldering.

"Need you so bad... please," you plead, arching your back as you feel his hand gripping the waistband of your skirt, your heart racing with excitement.

He can't resist any longer, the desire for you consuming him completely. The bulge in his pants grows, a physical manifestation of his longing, and it's becoming increasingly difficult for him to hold back. Both of you know you shouldn't be doing this, but the allure of each other is irresistible, a forbidden temptation that feels so wrong yet so undeniably right. However, amidst the rush of passion, your mind races with worry. What if Toge and Itadori return home any minute now and catch you in the act?

"We shouldn't... they'll be back any minute now..." you say to Megumi, your voice tinged with nervousness, yet your body betrays your words, silently pleading for him not to stop.

He continues to lower your skirt, his movements deliberate and unhurried. With gentle precision, he slides it down your ankle, slipping it off your legs and letting it fall to the floor. "Yeah... we shouldn't..." he says, knowing full well that neither of you truly want to stop.

His hand returns to your thighs, applying gentle pressure as he slowly traces his way back up towards the lace of your panties, his eyes never leaving yours. With a deliberate motion, he places his hand over your clothed clit, his fingers starting a slow, circular movement. The sensation rushes through you, igniting every nerve ending as pleasure courses through the fabric, making you moan louder with each delicate touch.

He's utterly captivated by the sight of you in ecstasy—your eyes squinting low, mouth agape over heavy breaths of pleasure, face and chest flushed red, your chest rising and falling with each gasp. Your sheer enjoyment fuels his own, and he revels in every moment of it. Unable to resist any longer, he crashes his lips onto yours for a fleeting moment before swiftly dropping to his knees off the edge of the bed, a determined gleam in his eyes. As you sit up, confusion etched on your face, he takes hold of your legs and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed.

“Megumi what are youUu~AhHHhH" you start to question Megumi's actions, but your words dissolve into a gasp of pleasure as you feel him move your panties aside and his mouth quickly latches onto your swollen clit, sending waves of sensation coursing through your body.

He dives into you eagerly, his mouth sloppy with the way he devours your pussy, his chin and mouth glistening with your arousal. It feels better than you ever imagined, and you can't help but moan as he picks up the pace.

"Gumi, fuck—!" you moan, and he can't help but throb at the nickname you've given him. He adores the way you say it, relishing in the fact that he's the one bringing you such pleasure. With skillful movements, he continues to lap at your clit, knowing you're getting close from the way your breath hitches and your hips begin to grind against his mouth. The sight of you chasing your high only spurs him on, making him even harder.

As you start to moan more desperately, he inserts two fingers into your tight hole, eliciting another wave of pleasure from you. "Fuck, you're so tight, angel," he murmurs, his fingers curling inside you to hit your sweet spot.

“Shittt, right there! Yes!”

You're on the edge, feeling the familiar sensation building up, when suddenly you hear the front door of the house open. Panic grips you as you realize Itadori and Toge are back, and you try to push Megumi away, thinking he didn't hear.

But he doesn't budge. "Megumi, Itadori and Toge are back," you say, your voice trembling with fear of being caught.

"Don't care," he replies, undeterred, as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, his movements relentless. Your head falls back, overwhelmed by the sensation, as a surge of adrenaline and excitement courses through you. The thought of your other friends being home while you and Megumi share this intimate moment in his bedroom only adds to the thrill of the encounter.

As the sensation intensifies, you can only manage to gasp out, "Fuck, Gumi... what if they hear?"

"Then you'll just have to be a little quieter, angel," he replies with a smirk, his fingers working faster against your sweet spot as he continues to pleasure you. His other hand moves up to your mouth.

"Open," he demands, and just the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, making you even wetter than before. You comply, parting your lips as he inserts his thumb into your mouth, applying gentle pressure on your tongue to keep you quiet. In response, you instinctively suck on his thumb, eliciting a groan from him in surprise and arousal. He hadn't expected your eager response, imagining all the other things you could do with your mouth.

The vibration from his groan sends an electric wave through you, causing you to involuntarily clutch around his fingers as you edge closer to your release.

“M’ close," you practically whimper.

"I know, angel," he responds, picking up the pace and sucking on your bud, causing you to instinctively close your mouth around his thumb to muffle your cries of pleasure. But Megumi has other plans, as he gently removes his finger from your mouth and takes your free hand, interlocking your fingers together and guiding your hand to the bed beside you.

"I changed my mind, I want to hear you when you cum all over my face," he instructs, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

And with that, you can't hold back any longer. You succumb to the pleasure, your essence coating his mouth and fingers as you come undone. You moan out his name, and he smirks, loving the sight of your blissed-out expression. You’re absolutely perfect for him.

Megumi withdraws his fingers, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. He then brings his slick-coated fingers to his mouth, sucking on them with a low murmur. "I knew you tasted so fucking good," he whispers, his voice still sending a thrill down your spine. You can't help but respond with a lazy smile, basking in the afterglow of your shared passion.

But your moment of bliss is shattered when you hear Itadori call out your name from downstairs, causing panic to surge within you. With a sense of urgency, you scramble to put on your skirt, but you struggle with the fabric. Then, a knock on Megumi's door interrupts you.

"Megumi, have you seen y/n?" Itadori's voice carries concern, and you exchange a panicked glance with Megumi, whispering urgently, "Fuck, Megumi, what do I do?"

Megumi maintains his composure, gesturing towards his washroom and whispering back, "Go to the bathroom and close the door, okay? Don't panic, angel," he reassures you with a gentle kiss on your forehead. You take his advice, rushing to the bathroom and closing the door quietly.

Meanwhile, Megumi opens the door halfway to face Itadori. "What do you want?" he asks, his tone cool and collected.

"Have you seen y/n? She said she was gonna wait for us to get back from the pizza place, but I can't find her, and she's not answering her phone," Itadori explains, his concern evident.

"Nope, haven't seen her," Megumi responds coldly.

"She didn't ask you what you wanted to eat?" Itadori questions, puzzled by the situation.

"No, haven't talked to her,"

"Oh, alright, thanks! If you do want anything to eat, we brought some extra, so you can have some if you want," Itadori offers, a smile on his face.

"Okay, thanks," Megumi accepts politely before closing the door, leaving you hidden in the bathroom, relieved yet still anxious about being discovered.

As you hear the door close, you step out of the bathroom slowly, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. Walking towards Megumi, you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him into a sweet kiss while giggling softly against his lips. With a playful tug, you pull him onto the bed, slipping underneath him as he falls on top of you. One of his hands instinctively finds your waist as the other is placed on the bed beside you, his lips meeting yours eagerly as he's caught off guard by your sudden actions.

Your laughter fills the room, and Megumi can't help but smile in response, reveling in the sound of your joy. Your smile, your laughter—every sight of you fills him with a profound sense of affection and admiration. He knows he's lucky to have you, and at this moment, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

You both share a moment of silent admiration, both lost in the other's gaze. Finally, you break the silence, “I didn't even get to return the favor yet.” Your hand trails down his chest until you reach his pants, where you teasingly graze the bulge within, prompting a soft groan to escape his lips as his eyes follow your every movement. With a mischievous smirk, he seizes both of your hands, pinning them down onto the bed.

"As much as I'd love that, beautiful, I think it's better if you make your way back to your friends before they worry more," he explains, his tone gentle yet firm. You pout at his response, protesting, "But it's not fair!"

The truth is, he's yearning for your touch, craving the sensation of your hands on him. But deep down, he knows that if he gives in to that desire, he won't be able to hold back from plunging his hard cock into your tight, warm pussy. It's an overwhelming temptation, one he struggles to resist because you have no idea of the profound effect you have on him. How incredibly hot you sound when his name escapes your lips or when you stifle a moan by biting down on your lower lip. The way you become flushed and wet from just a heated kiss, or how the mere sight of you makes his dick hard. It's not just your physical allure, though—the way you walk with confidence, the casual way you run your hands through your hair while studying, or the nervous habit of biting your lips. Even the simplest actions, like sipping from a straw, send his mind spiraling with desire.

He simply smiles before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. "Trust me, making you feel good satisfies me," he reassures you. Rising from the bed, he takes your hand to help you up.

He imagines your small hands wrapping around his length, stroking his hard cock while you kneel before him, your eyes pleading with desperation as you look up at him. He can almost feel the sensation of your mouth around his tip, sucking gently before taking him deeper, your head bobbing back and forth in a rhythm that drives him wild–

"How do I play it off though...? Do we act normal now? Should we act normal?! But then they'll ask what happened, how do we explain to them that this happened... Do we keep acting like we don't like each other?" You cut through his thoughts with your rambling, your confusion palpable as you struggle to figure out how to act in front of your friends now.

"You don't want to make them suspicious now, do you?" Maybe for now, let's just continue acting like we still don't like each other in front of them until we figure this out, okay?" he adds, his cocky grin making an appearance once again as he’s brushing a piece of hair behind your ear and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Yeah, that's okay with me! Should I go back down now?" you inquire.

He nods, and you open the door to his bedroom slowly, trying not to make too much noise. As you prepare to rejoin your friends, you wonder what to tell them.

“What do I say if they ask where I went.”

"That's where you improvise, angel," he winks at you, and you playfully roll your eyes before making your way downstairs to your friends.

"Y/n! Where the hell were you? We looked everywhere for you, and we even asked Megumi if he'd seen you, but apparently you didn't even ask him about the food?" Itadori questions, his confusion evident as he munches on a slice of pizza.

"Yeah, and your phone was either off or you were just ignoring us," Toge adds, also enjoying a slice.

"Sorry, guys. I went to the bathroom before you two got here, and I left my phone down here," you quickly come up with an excuse.

"But why didn't you answer us when we called out your name?" Itadori presses.

"I'm not gonna lie, I didn't even hear you at all," you giggle softly, trying to deflect the question.

"Oh, well alright! We got the food, you want to eat?" Toge offers.

"Yep! I’m hungryyy," you reply eagerly, taking a seat beside them and grabbing a slice. After a few minutes, you hear someone coming down the stairs but don't look.

"Wait, why didn't you ask Megumi what he wanted? We literally waited there an extra 10 minutes for you to call us," Toge asks, his curiosity piqued.

"Oh, uh..." You scramble to come up with an explanation before they catch onto your hesitation. "You know, we aren't really talking right now... You saw how he ignored me earlier when I said hi to him... so I got scared and just couldn't do it." Of course you lie. While you were nervous about asking him, you're not one to back away. The truth is, you did ask him, and it led to him plunging his fingers deep into your pussy while his tongue worked wonders on your clit until you came hard, coating his face with your essence. Just the memory of it makes you get wet again at the mere thought.

"Speak of the devil, Megumi, do you want some?" Itadori asks, and you steal a glance at Megumi. He meets your gaze with his usual expression, and you quickly look away, feeling flustered. Megumi then responds to Itadori, "Sure."

You find yourself sitting in between Itadori and Toge, Megumi seated on the other side of Itadori. As you all sit in the living room, enjoying the food and the show playing on the TV, your thoughts keep drifting back to the earlier encounter with Megumi. It's evident that he's finding it just as difficult to focus on the screen, as you catch him stealing glances at you a few times, his gaze lingering longer than necessary. The intensity of his looks leaves you feeling uneasy, especially with your two friends seated right beside you. You can't shake the nervousness that creeps in, knowing they could glance over at any moment and catch the silent exchange between you and Megumi.

But fuck it’s hard…

It's hard to tear my gaze away when every time I look at him, I'm flooded with happiness and maybe a little wetness in my panties... I mean, how could I not when he's sitting there looking so damn hot in his white tee shirt and black shorts? If Itadori and Toge weren't here right now, I'd probably already be sitting on his lap, kissing his soft lips, my hand trailing down his chest towards the waistband of his pants... Slowly biting his bottom lip as I slip my hand under his waistband and then–

"Y/n!" Itadori's voice cuts through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. You realize he had called your name twice before, but you were so lost in your fantasies that you didn't even hear him at all. The sudden attention from Megumi and Toge makes your cheeks flush red with embarrassment.

"Huh?" you respond, turning to face Itadori.

"I said, do you want to sleep over tonight since it's Friday and all your friends are gonna be here?" he repeats.

Confused, you turn to Toge for clarification. "Oh, I forgot to mention it to her. Yeah, Yuta, Maki, and I are sleeping here tonight because we're going out to the club. You want to join?"

"Oh... yeah, sure. I have nothing better to do anyway," you reply, turning back to Itadori. Your gaze briefly flickers to Megumi for a split second before returning to Itadori.

Itadori turns to look at Megumi, a hopeful expression on his face. "You want to come too?" he asks, silently urging him to agree.

But Megumi shakes his head. "Nah, it's all good. I'll stay home," he replies, his tone final.

Disappointment washes over you as you had hoped he would agree to come along. Itadori tries to convince him, insisting that it'll be fun, but Megumi remains steadfast in his decision.

"It's not my type of thing, sorry," he explains as he rises from the couch and makes his way back upstairs. "I'll be in my room if you need me," he adds before disappearing into his room, leaving you feeling a bit disheartened by his refusal to join.

As you watch Megumi leave, a pang of disappointment washes over you. Why didn't he want to stay down here with all of you? Or go to the club? But then again, if he did, wouldn't it seem suspicious? After all, he's not one for parties or clubs, preferring solitude or minimal disturbance most of the time.

Shrugging off the feeling, you decide to maintain the facade of indifference. "What time are we going to the club anyway?" you ask, diverting the conversation.

"11pm," they both reply simultaneously, their voices in perfect unison.

“I don't have anything to wear–”

“Yutas still home, you want me to ask him to bring you something?” Toge asks.

“Yes please! Tell him to bring my black dress, it's all the way on to the left side in my closet.”

“Gotcha, he said he'll be here in 30 so we can leave in an hour once you're ready.” Toge says to you.

“Okay fine with me”

You three continued watching the show until Yuta arrived, prompting you to hurry upstairs to change your clothes. Once you were all ready, you left for the club and met up with Nobara and Maki, who were already waiting for you. As you entered, you found them sitting at a booth, surrounded by shot glasses and other drinks.

"Where's Megumi?" Maki shouted over the loud music.

"He didn't want to come," Itadori shouted back.

"Typical Megumi," Nobara rolled her eyes. "Come sit and take shots with us," she urged.

You all settled into the booth, quickly downing shots of whiskey as the bartender kept bringing more. It was as if you were drinking water, the shots disappearing almost as soon as they were poured.

As the alcohol flooded your system, thoughts of Megumi began to consume your mind with each shot. Memories of the last time you two were here together, him escorting you back to your place, clouded your mind. But what truly weighed on you was the fact that he wasn't here now. Not here with you, not with all your friends and his, enjoying the pulsating music, the colorful beaming lights, and the lively atmosphere of the club. People danced on the floor, indulged in shots, and revealed in the moment.

Yet, despite the fun atmosphere, you couldn't shake the feeling of his absence. Your friends noticed the change in your demeanor, the sadness and distraction etched on your face as you dwelled on his absence a little too much.

"Not drunk enough yet, huh?" Maki nudged you playfully, and you chuckled in response as she passed you a few more shots.

Downing three shots in quick succession, you felt the effects of the alcohol kicking in, numbing your thoughts, including those of Megumi. In fact, you were getting drunk to the point where thinking wasn't really on the agenda anymore.

As your friends got up to hit the dance floor, you joined in, enjoying the music and the company. Dancing with Maki and Nobara was a blast until they got lost in each other's lips, leaving you with Toge, Itadori, and Yuta. Until Yuta and Toge left to get more shots, leaving you alone with Itadori.

Itadori leaned in close to ask how you were feeling. "I feel good! You?" you replied, giggling a bit.

"Good as well," he answered before his gaze flickered to a spot on your neck as he moved your hair aside. "Is that a hic–" he started to question.

Panic surged through you as you realized what he was referring to—the hickey that Megumi had left on your neck. Thinking quickly, you blurted out, "I burned myself when I was curling my hair this morning."

Thankfully, you had actually curled your hair, a stroke of luck that saved you from further scrutiny. Itadori, oblivious as ever, didn't press further, and you breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for his lack of curiosity in this particular moment.

You both laugh and continue to dance, the night passing by in a blur of music and movement. It feels like hours have gone by, with no sign of anyone wanting to call it a night. The others keep shuttling between the bar and the dance floor, their energy seemingly boundless.

However, you decide to pace yourself, opting not to drink anymore for the rest of the night. You're wary of the possibility of embarrassing yourself or accidentally revealing something about you and Megumi if questioned. You know that if you continue drinking, you might lose control over your words and actions, and that's a risk you're not willing to take.

As the night wears on, the crowded club starts to feel suffocating. The pulsing music and throngs of people dancing only add to your discomfort, so you decide to take a break and head to the bathroom. After splashing some water on your face, you step outside, hoping for a moment of respite.

However, in your haste, you accidentally bump into someone in front of you. "Ow, fuck, sorry! I didn't see you," you apologize, looking up to meet their gaze, only to be met with familiar dark blue eyes and a voice that sends shivers through you.

"It's alright, angel," he replies, that smirk you know so well playing on his lips.

"Megumi?! What are you doing here?" you ask, confusion evident in your voice, but he simply smirks more and pulls you back into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Megs... What are you doing?" you inquire, your confusion evident in your tone as you try to make sense of his sudden behavior.

“Do you have any idea how damn hard it is to keep you out of my mind?” He growls, his voice low and intense as he closes the distance between you, causing you to instinctively take a step back, startled by his sudden actions.

“What's going on?”

"Fuck Y/n…You have no idea what you do to me," he admits, his voice rough with need, his eyes dark with longing as he leans in closer, pinning you against the wall again as his breath hot against your skin.

“Megumi…”

"No. Don't call me that..." His voice drips with desire as he speaks in a low, commanding tone.

"What?" you respond, puzzled by his sudden shift in demeanor.

"You know exactly what. Say it," he demands.

You pause, uncertain of what he's asking for.

"Say it," he repeats, his tone growing more forceful as he moves one hand to your waist, exerting pressure, while the other grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head. Caught off guard by his sudden aggression, you feel a rush of arousal flooding through you.

"Gumi..." you mutter out, feeling yourself get more wet at the possessive tone in his voice.

"That's my fucking girl," he declares, his words sending a thrill through you. Before you can react, he leans in hastily, capturing your lips with a hunger that leaves you breathless. The realization that he's claiming you as his own sends a wave of weakness through you, weakening your knees as you succumb to the intensity of his desire.

Before you realize it, his hand that was on your waist moves away, and he brings it to your mouth. "Open, baby," he urges, his voice urgent, and you comply without hesitation. As you open your mouth, he inserts his ring and middle finger. "Suck it," he commands again, his tone aggressive, but you obey willingly, sucking on them eagerly, coating his fingers with your saliva while meeting his gaze with a mixture of desire and submission.

His demanding demeanor only heightens your arousal, causing you to rub your legs together in an attempt to ease the growing ache between your thighs. As his fingers become coated with your saliva, he withdraws them from your mouth and swiftly moves his hand under your dress. With a sense of urgency, he pushes your panties to the side and plunges his fingers into your tight hole, eliciting a loud moan from you.

Quickly, he crashes his lips onto yours again, muffling your sounds of pleasure as he continues to finger you with fervor, his actions driven by a primal need to satisfy both of your desires.

"F-Fuck, Gumiii," you moan out, breaking the kiss as your head leans into the crook of his neck, your breath hot against his skin.

"You're clutching hard on my fingers, baby," he groans from the sensation. “Fuckkk, I love how wet you get for me, angel.”

Your moans echo through the room, a symphony of pleasure as his fingers expertly stroke your most sensitive spots. The way he curves his fingers hits your g-spot just right, sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body. Your breath grows heavier, each exhale a testament to the building tension within you.

"Oh God! Gumi, right there, please don't stop," you plead, feeling the waves of pleasure crashing over you with each movement of his hand. He responds with a guttural groan, his desire evident in the way he continues to drive you towards the edge.

"You want to cum all over my fingers, don't you?" he teases, his voice laced with arousal. All you can manage is a breathless affirmation as he picks up the pace, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release.

"Come on, baby, tell me how much you want it," he teases, his fingers slowing their pace, drawing out your anticipation.

"Fuck!" you exclaim, frustration evident in your voice as he toys with you. "Gumi, please don't tease! I need it."

He smirks, his gaze dark and hungry. "Need what, baby?"

"I need it! I need you, please continue!" you beg, the urgency in your voice palpable.

"Yeah?" he teases, his fingers picking up speed once again. "How bad?"

"So bad!" you cry out, your body tensing around his fingers in anticipation of the release you crave.

"Fuck, you're so close, angel," he growls, his own desire matching yours as he continues to drive you towards ecstasy.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" you moan, your voice filled with urgency as you near the edge of climax. The sensation is so intense that you instinctively bite down on Megumi's shoulder, seeking some anchor amidst the overwhelming pleasure.

"M’ gonna cum!" you announce, your breath ragged with need.

"Just let go for me, baby," he urges, his voice husky with desire.

In response, your head flies back, your eyes rolling back in bliss as the intense orgasm washes over you, leaving you trembling in its wake. Megumi continues to move his fingers inside you, prolonging the sensation until you can't take it anymore. He smirks at your euphoric expression, relishing in the power he holds over you.

But before you can fully come down from your high, someone starts knocking on the bathroom door, jolting you back to reality. Your eyes widen in alarm, realizing the precarious situation you're in.

Okay hear me out... I originally wasn't going to make this series include any smuts but as I continued to write the story I just couldn't stop thinking about it... so here we are...

I will be including more smut scenes in the next following parts when I want to... so do what you will with that information.

But I hope you enjoyed :)

TAGLIST <3

@lavender-hvze @xbarrjallenx @atinymonbebestay @1l-ynn @chilichopsticks @dr-fluff-meow @lost-resonance @maya-maya-56 @ichorstainedskin @luciiferslover @madaqueue @vanitywoo

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thestreamdreampony · 9 months ago

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Me adding my two cents is probably not gonna do much, but here I go, I guess:

I want to preface this with saying that Wilbur's content and Lovejoy have been incredibly important to me and I've put a lot of time, effort and money into supporting Lovejoy especially. So finding out about this, before finding out about the details, I had originally reacted with incredulous derision of twitter stans. And then erring on the side of caution about how things developed.

At this point there's almost no question that it's Wilbur, for the simple reason that Shubble would have cleared up his name if it wasn't. There's no way she would throw someone innocent under the bus, if she knew somebody else was guilty. Additionally, not a single person in Wilbur's surroundings has disputed any claims and have only narrowed it down further towards Wilbur. At this point it is incredibly unlikely she is talking about anybody else.

I do want to take a moment to comdemn those (mostly on twitter) who used this opportunity to dig into both Shubble and Wilbur's private lives, trying to construct a narrative of her abuse and in some cases going so far as doxxing Wilbur. It is entirely possible to support Shelby and condemn her abuser, without invading their privacy and endangering people's lives. Shelby's goal was to warn people and to make them more aware of the signs of abuse. As well as make it as clear as possible, who she's talking about without saying who it is directly, for a meriad of possible reasons. It was not an invitation to write abuse fanfiction about her private life.

That being said, the way I will feel about this in the long run will depend heavily on how Wilbur deals with this situation. I will definitely distance myself either way (slowly but surely), but his reaction to this will influence how I will act moving forward.

Should he stay silent or respond with insincerity/derision/defensiveness/etc., then that's it for me. Fuck him.

But should he come forward, own up to it, apologize and prove that he is working on himself, then I might be able to find it in myself to give him a second chance over time. I just don't believe that doing bad things makes you irredeemable forever and ever and ever.

We know for a fact that Wilbur has been struggling with mental health problems for most of his teen and adult life and from his solo music we are also aware that he is incredibly aware of the fact that he is the problem in his relationships. Expressing dark thoughts in music, does not automatically mean somebody is abusive. In fact, creating dark art is an excellent way to deal with harmful thoughts and impulses. I have literally never taken his lyrics to mean that.

However, his lyrics in YCGMA and MSR have always been incredibly autobiographical and do show that he is acutely aware that he's the unhealthy element in his unhealthy relationships.

We also know directly from him, that he has distanced himself from most of his social circle and sought out therapy as recently as 2 weeks ago in an effort to improve his mental health.

This does not excuse his actions whatsoever. Mentally ill people are still responsible for the harm that they cause and Shelby is unbelievably brave to tell their story. I hope they finds peace, I hope she has all the support she could ever need and I hope she has achieved her goal of making people more aware of how people end up in situations like this. She is an inspiration for standing up for herself like this.

But I also think that, should Wilbur come forward, admit to his wrongdoings and prove over time that he is working on becoming a better person, friend and partner, that he does not have to be shunned forever and ever and ever. He has a long life in front of him and I hope both for him and all his future friends and partners that he manages to find a healthy, happy way of living. This can happen, even while he never bothers Shelby, or the other people he hurt, again.

This is a best case scenario. I do think he is allowed to take some time to formulate a response. A hasty response to situations like this have never helped anyone ever, neither the victim, nor the accused. Taking his time to come to terms with the situation, which surely came as a shock, and to really think about how he wants to deal with this situation is much better than him writing a twitlonger as soon as he finds out.

Either way, I will distance myself from him and Lovejoy, slowly but surely. I won't get rid of the merch clothing I own because it was quite expensive and throwing it away is a waste of perfectly good clothing, but I won't find the joy I once felt wearing them. (I am salty about me being gone from home for a few months and having ordered Lovejoy merch, which had been waiting for me for weeks and then finding out about this literally the day I travelled back. It definitely felt weird as hell to unpack that stupid NORMAL longsleeve with his fucking face on it, while being hurt and confused and angry.)

Listening to Lovejoy's music, likewise, will never feel as euphoric as it once did, even if I go back to it. Which really sucks cuz they genuinly hit my sweet spot in music taste. YCGMA and SISV specifically, have been so, so important to me and removing them from my listening rotation i going to Hurt.

Interestingly, I don't feel quite as terrible as last time I had to suddenly cut a content creator out of my life. So I guess practice makes perfect lmao.

I don't know if me writing and posting this had any point. I guess I just wanted to get it off my chest and maybe it resonates with somebody.

Anyway, take care of yourselves. Take it easy and try to focus on other things, if this hit you hard (ideally offline). Try to meet with friends, maybe play some boardgames (or video games), go for a walk,read a book, have a coffee with a loved one. There's joy in the world, despite it all.

#wilbur soot

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listentoace · 2 months ago

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Hey, I wanted to address a couple of things.

I have been receiving several asks regarding some of my recent posts. I admit they are darker than the usual stuff. That was a decision I consciously made, because I do tend to have darker fantasies and wanted to see how they would be received. I consider most of the criticism I received to be valid points. Here are a few of them:

The whole idea of "ruining yourself"/"ruining your body" as you're gaining weight can be found fatphobic

Connecting feederism to habitual behavior, addiction, loss of control, and even brain damage can be found scary or even disturbing

Encouraging people to embrace health issues (both physical and mental) because of feederism can be found toxic

Constantly connecting feederism and weight gain with the negative side effects (sluggishness and laziness, health issues, societal judgement, etc.) can lead to the conclusion that feederism, obesity, indulgence, etc. are generally bad things

I won't try to defend myself. In fact, I completely agree with (most) criticism I received. The only kind of "criticism" I don't recognize are attacks toward me personally, but that's just reflected in a minority of the asks I receive. To all people who have sent me asks: it's great that you're sharing your opinion and thoughts, and I encourage you to keep doing so!

I think it is necessary to mention again that I don't mean anyone any harm. I am not fatphobic, and I do not mean to force any kinks upon anyone. This is just me writing and recording some horny ideas I occasionally have for those people who are into the same stuff. It is also very important to mention that in many cases, the fantasy of something can be very hot, while the reality of it could be very stressful and traumatizing. This is especially the case with more intense fantasies and kinks, e.g., being kidnapped and fattened. Everything I write takes place in "fantasy land". Nothing I post is meant as a threat, actual encouragement for dangerous behavior or self harm, or other harmful behavior. Pleae keep this in mind!

Getting back to the criticism: Yes, I like the dark stuff. I am very intrigued by the idea of feedees getting fatter for pleasure, despite all the negative consequences that can come with weight gain and obesity. I also enjoy calling people out for it, both with mild teasing and with very direct "you're damaging yourself" claims. I know that this is not everybody's cup of tea, which is why I already tag all posts with darker topics related to self-destruction, severe health issues, permanent damage and even death with "#death feederism" and "#death feedist". This is also mentioned in my pinned info post under "My Content", encouraging people to hide these tags who are not into certain content I post. However, it is quite clear that this isn't a great solution – otherwise I would not be receiving these asks.

I am very open to solving this issue together. After all, it always has been my personal ambition to write and record content for your enjoyment and pleasure. I want to make you – the readers and listeners – feel good and excited. I don't mean to scare or disturb you with my darker fantasies and kinks that don't appeal to you. Nonetheless, I do enjoy causing "holy shit, this is really bad, but it just feels so good!" pleasure and horniness.

In the past, I occasionally made use of trigger warnings at the top of my posts. If I recall correctly, I did hide the main content behind the "Keep reading" button. This was not consistent, but I am open to generally implementing this for all future posts that include sensitive subjects, such as death feederism, consensual non-consent, heavy conditioning and brain damage, or severe degradation and objectification.

However, before I do that, I first wanted to recognize the asks I received and open the conversation by addressing these issues. I encourage you to share your thoughts on this with me in the comments, asks, or my dms. Please let me know whether you think the combination of a trigger warning and a "Keep reading" button is sufficient and reasonable. I will still be tagging my posts accordingly, like I've done in the past, so filtering through hiding certain hashtags will remain an option either way.

I'm looking forward to your feedback and ideas, thank you for the criticism! :)

#venting

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seramilla · 7 months ago

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Okay Vaggies emotional turmoil I 100% understand and I am LIVING for the angst but can we touch on Carmilla, Clara, and Odette? They just learned that their daughter and sister, their BABY sister is not only alive but also a full grown adult at this time.

They missed everything. All of her firsts and all her heart breaks. They weren’t there when she needed advice. Or for any of her awkward questions. They missed getting to grow up with her. Getting to raise her. Getting to know her. I KNOW they want some way to get that family back together.

And she missed having a family. Having anyone. Unless you count the exorcist cause in a way they are her sisters.

Either way more angst for your mind. And if you write about it more content for me to consume.

Carmilla does meet Vaggie at the door to her compound this time, just as she'd promised. When the angel arrives, the district of warehouses and workers loading and unloading trucks is deserted. The street is still empty and eerily quiet. Vaggie suspects Carmilla’s people are still stocking up from the Extermination. Not much manufacturing to be done while fresh angelic weapons are still lining the streets, waiting to be salvaged.

Vaggie doesn’t even need to buzz the door — as soon as she comes within sight of the camera, the door lifts, and Carmilla is standing there. Just as tall and intimidating as ever, especially compared to her, but her eyes communicate the exact opposite of the impatience they had the last time she'd been here. Now, she really seems like she’s trying to see Vaggie, see into her, instead of like the intruder she'd been before. Vaggie shifts between her feet awkwardly.

“Umm, hi, Carmilla,” Vaggie says, making a waving motion with her hand. What was that, idiot?! Vaggie screams at herself. Why are you such a fucking putz?

"Hello, dear," Carmilla greets her, warm and inviting and so unlike that fierce warrior that taught her all that fancy footwork a week prior. Now she's looking at the angel like she has something to prove. "I'm glad to see you again. Would you come in?"

"Yeah." Vaggie agrees, rubbing the back of her head nervously, and following her inside. The warehouse is just as dark and depressing as the last time she'd been here, and just as empty. No one else is around, and Vaggie wonders why Carmilla is here on her own.

They don't go far. A short trip up the elaborate staircase, and Carmilla turns them toward a small office space at the very top. She opens the door, letting the little angel head inside first, before entering herself and turning on a light. It's much more inviting in here, with big windows and lots of natural light. The space is meant to look like a small apartment, maybe one Carmilla stays in when she's overseeing her workers. A futon and coffee table sit in the corner, with an industrial-sized desk on the other side of the room, covered with papers.

"Sit anywhere you'd like, dear," Carmilla instructs. There's really only one place to sit, other than Carmilla's big executive office chair, so Vaggie takes one edge of the futon. Suddenly, Carmilla reappears with two cups of tea in her hand. She gives one to Vaggie. "I made some tea for your arrival. Hope you like chamomile."

"Th-thank you," Vaggie says, taking her cup. She doesn't drink right away, just rubs her fingers against the rough ceramic surface for a moment, before finally taking a sip. Carmilla sits on the opposite end of the futon beside her. Both women just co-exist in the space for a while, letting the silence permeate, unsure of where to begin. Ultimately, it's Vaggie who breaks the silence.

"I was hoping I could talk to you about...the other day," Vaggie admits, still not able to meet Carmilla's gaze. Carmilla doesn't have that problem. She's staring straight at Vaggie, overly hopeful, fighting the urge to reach over to her, and grasp her shoulder. Vaggie notices the subtle shift in her movement, like she's trying to hold herself back. She smiles...it's a sad smile. One that speaks of unspoken feelings rather than genuine happiness. Vaggie wants that to change. Why is this so difficult?

"It's okay," Vaggie says, finally able to look Carmilla in the eye. "I'm not really a touchy-feely person, except with Charlie. But you can hug me, if you want."

Carmilla had gotten so used to doing it that first day in the hospital. Vaggie can tell she wants to do it again. They'd both been so confused, and desperate for one another's affection. Leaning toward Vaggie slowly, so as not to scare her away, Carmilla scooches closer to her on the futon, and puts one arm around the angel.

Like she'd said, Vaggie is not normally a touchy person, except with Charlie. She gets the impression Carmilla isn't either, except with her daughters. Even so, Vaggie turns her small body into the older woman, and falls into her embrace. Carmilla moves in even closer, short of wrapping herself around the girl again, and starts stroking her long hair, like she'd done at the hospital. It had helped calm Vaggie down then.

For some reason, the movement sets Vaggie off this time, and she struggles so badly not to cry. Pushing away slightly, she rubs her good eye with the back of her hand, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," Vaggie says, ashamed at how easily she crumbles in front of this woman. She's normally made of better stuff than this. "I didn't come here to do this again. I really wanted to talk."

Vaggie keeps rubbing at her good eye, and then at her eyepatch, as if it's hurting her. She does so until the skin on her face and arm starts to turn red and raw. Carmilla pulls Vaggie's arm away, placing it between them in her lap.

"Don't." Carmilla says, squeezing Vaggie's hand. "Don't hurt yourself. I've been doing a lot of that the last few days, too. It's okay. You don't have to hide it."

"It's not okay!" Vaggie exclaims, getting frustrated with herself again. "I came here to ask questions, and maybe give you answers, too. This isn't how it was supposed to go."

"We've got time," Carmilla says, pulling her closer again. Vaggie is thankful for it. At least she can hide her embarrassment in Carmilla's chest, where she doesn't have to acknowledge her tears. "We can just sit here, and talk some more. We can do whatever you want."

Then, hesitating, not sure if Vaggie is ready yet, but Carmilla adds the caveat anyway, "My daugh--Odette and Clara will be here shortly. They've been out gathering supplies. You don't have to, but would you...want to meet them?"

Vaggie remembers Carmilla's other girls. They'd delivered Sir Pentious' weapons that day, when he still found everyone at the hotel so untrustworthy. She'd never given the two women much thought before at all, but admittedly, she is very curious now. She doesn't know what they will make of her...but if they're also family, if there's something she can learn about her would-have-been life from before...there's a part of her that really wants to know.

"Would they...be okay with that?" Vaggie asks. "Do they even know about me?"

"They know about you, yes," Carmilla answers. "I can't...say with certainty how they'll react. They are their own people. But if we want to try and make this work...?"

Carmilla leaves the statement open-ended. Vaggie gets it. These one-on-one rendezvous with Carmilla could go on ad nauseam, and a part of her is okay with that...but another part really wants to know all the extended members of her family. She's not unfamiliar with having sisters before. In a sense, all the Exorcists had been her sisters. They worked together, and trained together. Made small talk, and had each other's backs (most of the time). Maybe this wouldn't be much different.

"Yeah," Vaggie says, acknowledging what Carmilla had been trying to convey before. It won't be easy, but...maybe it's another step they can take together. "I am nervous, but...I'd like to meet them. If that's okay with you."

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #vaggie #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #sir pentious hazbin hotel #ask #anon #fan theories #vaggie carmilla related au

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extreme-unorthodox-cuddles · 7 months ago

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An encounter

So because me and some frens have started a thing about silly horror/analog horror stuff on discord I wrote this silly thing with my sona (who I don't think I've really said anything about on here will do that once I feel confident enough to draw him) doing a silly spooky thing

Content warning for unwilling prey, some horror elements and mild(?) body horror

Also @mysticcomfort because you told me to post this here

Wandering is risky, especially when alone. The sightings of unknown phenomena and disappearances and subsequent reappearances of those who do so are exemplary of this. Yet that can end up not deterring some, and even encouraging others, wanting to be the first to record what has been causing the strange happenings. But still, it is best to know the area, lest you get lost.

As one poor soul found out the hard way.

They pushed past branches and gazed up at the sky, void of any stars, trying to find some sense of direction. Every tree seemed identical, and no indicative light could be seen. They trekked through the foliage, hoping that if they continued in a straight line, they would come across something. But at the same time, they questioned if that would really be better than encountering nothing. Quiet shuffling could be heard all around them, and they could swear that branches and roots of trees seemed to appear and disappear. Sometimes, in the dark, the rings on a birch tree’s bark almost seemed like real eyes staring right at them, but a blink got rid of the feeling.

A sudden loud noise startled them, and they walked backwards from it, until they bumped into something. They yelped, starting to panic as they twirled around to face what they bumped into, and saw a strange person wearing a tall hat turn around as well, though notably calmer.

“Woah, woah, you ok? You look like you just saw a ghost.” He said to them, trying to ease them. “You seem lost, are ya lost?”

They explained their plight to the stranger, having let their guard down now that they have another human to talk to. He held his hand up to his face in a thoughtful pose while he listened.

“Hmm. Well, I know the area here quite well, I can help you if you want, just follow me, I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

He began walking off, and they followed suit. They had an uneasy feeling in them, but it was overcome by their relief at finally having someone else to talk to. Besides, of the recent disappearances, everyone had returned and the most damage they were aware of happening to them was nothing more than a few cuts and bruises, the kind that would heal in a week at most.

Their unease grew, however, when the stranger walked down into a bunker of some kind.

“I know this seems like a bad idea, but I promise you you’ll be safe.” He gave them a smile, though something about it seemed… off, slightly. But despite their uneasy feelings, they followed in.

There was very little light in the bunker, aside from a ceiling light that only illuminated a small spot in the center of the room. They couldn’t see the person they followed in, and it didn’t help they could swear they saw something slip out from the light as they approached. They called out with a low voice. And shortly after doing so, they heard the door shut behind them, and they swiveled around to look, not that they could see much.

“Sorry to have tricked you like that.” A familiar voice echoed from the side of the room opposite the door, making them swivel around again. As he spoke, some other quieter voices spoke the same words at the same time, but all around them. “I think we can both agree that you would have found it a bit harder to trust me like this.” He approached them, and as he stepped into the light, it was clear he was different. His legs were preceded by black tendrils, swiftly growing on the ground before him in very general directions. His arms seemed to have grown, becoming a material not unlike that of the tendrils on the ground, which they had noticed were on the walls and ceiling as well. And his mouth had grown wider, and was filled with jagged, teal, crystalline teeth, with a couple more of those tendrils flowing out like long tongues, and a similar mouth had formed on the exposed patch of his stomach.

They couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak, paralyzed with fear, while he continued his approach. He lifted his arms and wrapped them around them, meaning they couldn’t move now even if they wanted to.

“I do keep my word, though. I will keep you somewhere safe. Though you… might not like where exactly that is.” As he said that, he began opening his mouth wide, and elongating the tendrils in his mouth, wrapping them around them. They struggled against him, but it proved completely ineffective as they were pulled into the void of this… thing’s mouth. They felt the pull of what might be considered throat muscles pulling them deeper. They couldn’t believe what was happening to them. It had to be a nightmare. They kept being pulled in further and further, until they were curled up in a tight space, unable to escape. They soon eventually passed out from everything that had just happened to them.

…

They jolted up in bed, gasping for breath. In bed… It was a nightmare. They caught their breath and calmed themself down, briefly nervously laughing. They checked themself just in case they were hurt, but nothing was wrong, they were perfectly fine. They breathed a sigh of sheer relief and turned on their bedside lamp. Their paranoia must still be high, as they thought they saw some black tendrils quickly recede into the cracks of their doorframe the moment the room was flooded with light.

#soft vore #safe vore #sfw vore #vore writing #spooky scary horror vore #is that a tag? idk but imma put it anyway #silly sona stuff that I should do more of tbh #however I am very self conscious #unwilling prey #unwilling vore #bonus points if you can guess where a good amount of inspiration of the Spooky comes from

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ellieslittleburrow · 8 months ago

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Requested by anon : i hope this isn’t too dark but could i request joel with a daughter who’s a recovering addict?? and just how he would deal with that

Warnings : ADDICTION recovery, swearing, a clingy father and a ghostly mention of a blackout.

A/N : i hope you like this, anon.❤❤ Also i have a feeling i conveyed Joel a bit weaker than he usual is??? But in my brain it's the Joel that met up with Tommy again. The exact addiction was also not specified so i tried to make it as neutral as possible. Anyway, enjoy yall! 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

------

"Hey" A soft smile phantoms over your dad's face as he enters the room. "How are we feeling this morning?" He attempts enthusiasm but fails. You don't push... At least he tries...That's what you keep saying to yourself.

It's been a few months since your last episode. Call it episode of whatever you want, anger, last straw, the moment you gave yourself another chance...

"We're good..." You awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, timidly swinging your foot forward and backward "Should we...?" You throw your chin forward, motioning towards the door.

"Yeah!"

----

Since that last time, living with Joel has been a blessing and a curse. The heavy silence that sets in the car every time you went somewhere, the weight of knowing what occupied both of your minds and not being able to do anything about it.

There were fights. Like that time he entered your room without knocking, causing you to startle and to to swing your habd behind your back.

He'd ruin the fucking surpr-

"What are you hiding behind your back?" His low tone slaps you like thunder and you realize wht he has in mind.

Your heart stings and you scoff. stupid you for thinking about him, yeah?

You hold out the glass jar, examining its contents one last time. A letter, a pocket watch, a small knife and a monarch butterfly you stupidly taxidermied, thinking it was the thing he loved the most. "Monarch butterflies..creatures guided by an ancient instinct to seek sanctuary in distant lands...Kinda remind me of myself..." He'd always say. So you violently hurl the bottle at the ground, meeting his eyes as the bottle shatters. "Well, it was your gift." You force a smile. "There it goes." And before brushing past him, you make sure to spit on the contents, just in case he ever decided to pick them up after you.

He grips your arm as you walk by. But you yanked it away, throwing him a glare before leaving.

He begs later. More than once, for a few days. "I-I-I'm sorry, I-I" He holds your hand. "I can't imagine how much that hurt..."

There were also other times where tears flowed. Tears being his...least favorite thing.

Like that time your body shut down...Went numb and you found yourself on your knees, hyperventilating as you search for air to breathe. Nothing serious, just pure exhaustion and lack of sleep. On his face of the moon, you fell to the ground and were unable to breathe, your colors washed off and your eyes widened....What's happening to you??? He doesn't know.

He rushes down to the ground and leans close to your face, feeling for..symptoms. "What-w-what is it-what's happening?" He shouts through panicky unsteady breaths. And as you struggle to even utter a word or two, tears stream down his face. "Please tell me what's happening."

Again, nothing serious on your side. Just a bad flashback for him, from back when you blacked out last. When he almost lost you.

That being said, bad moments weren't the only things that shaped your relationship. There were good moments too.

Good moments where words weren't needed for him to show how much he cared for you. He'd -not-so-discreetly watch you eat, from the corner of his eyes. and he'd sometimes lay awake, waiting to comfort you.

he'd also supervise you from time to time (More like spy on you).

You once couldn't deal with it anymore. And your prankster attitude couldn't let it slide easily. So you decided to prank him.

On your stroll through the woods, you stopped in your tracks, whirling around to point your rifle at him.

"Show yourself or i'm shooting your eyeballs off." Stern and threatening, you shout.

He startles, abruptly raising his arms up. "It's me!!!! It's me." Fear laces his voice. "It's just me."

A smirk creeps up on your face. "I know." You snort. "I got ya good." You got him goood.

His shoulders slouch and he breathes out heavily. "You sure did."

"Are you following me?" You ask, still keeping the same distance between the two of you.

"N-no, i'm j-"

"Just following me."

He sighs again. "No, i a-"

"Spying"

"NO! I'm just making sure you're not....Just making sure you're okay."

You debate whether to tell him that's literally spying or to just leave it. So you just shrug. "Okay...sure."

It can be suffocating at times, But you appreciate the effort anyways.

"Go home, dude." You turn on your heels and head away from him.

On your road to full recovery, you find yourself missing things that you promised yourself and the world you'd stay away from. With Joel on your side -and sometimes up your ass- You find yourself wanting to run, but always ending up wanting him back by your side. Because as protective and annoying as he can be, he's also always there whenever you find yourself falling back down, easing the burden of being this new person you're trying to be.

------

"Are you listening?"

You smile at him, thrown off by the sudden come back you had to do. "Yeah. Let's go."

--------

Hiiii! I hope yall enjoyed thiis, even though it's different from the usual style ❤❤🌸🥀🥀

#joel miller x platonic reader #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller x daughter #daughter!reader #adoptive father troop #father figure fic #father figure #daughter x father #joel miller #last of us fic #platonic reader #sarah miller

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bozawarriorsposting · 7 months ago

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The Damned Four Warriors AU

You know all those cats that everyone in the fandom always asks how they got into Starclan, what if Starclan themselves started asking that same question?

This AU follows four cat's that were let into Starclan originally now being put into 'probation' after they don't improve as people in the slightest. Four spirits get sent back to the mortal realm and do Starclan's (Clear Sky's) will or get booted to the Dark Forest. I am not entirely sure what that 'Will' is mind you, but things from fighting back Dark Forest spirits (which are a bit more "dark nightmare creatures" in this AU) and orchestrating some of Starclan's less ethical mortal meddling. Essentially, every time Starclan begins to screw cats over and random events happen that allow for prophecies to succeed, these four are the ones sent to do it. Suicide Squad but with Ghost Cats if you will.

Now, you might say that throwing a bunch of already angered and restless spirits who all died violently into situations which will only further anger and hurt them isn’t a good way to make them better, and you would be right.

The line up:

Mudclaw: His coup attempt enraged Starclan and there was a lot of debate, but his life of being basically a model Warrior: traditionalist, brave, ready to fight, and reverence for Starclan got him enough good boy points for them to let him in. Also his 'lawyers' (spirits on his side) basically just blamed Hawkfrost for everything. However, he was not content with this, and as Mudclaw increasingly began to stew in rage and bitterness over his smiting and Starclan's intervention in Windclan, they started getting nervous. Starclan spirit's do have some power over the real world, not a lot, but enough to where one rogue Starclan spirit could cause a lot of problems. So they kicked Mudclaw into this group to keep him under control and generally just give him something to do.

Ashfur: Was let in for generally the same reasons as Mudclaw, but slightly less so. He wasn't that exceptional of a warrior, but Starclan was currently still panicking over the existence of The Three. Ashfur was convincing enough and the Higher spirits didn’t really want to deal with anything regarding any of the three for now (also they don’t particularly like Squirrelflight) so they generally just gave him the benefit of the doubt. As his obsession continued in Starclan however, the powers that be basically saw the plot of TBC coming. Ashfur is here so they can keep an eye on him and keep him away from anything important.

Needletail: Out of the four, she is the one that Starclan came closest to just chucking into the dark forest. The whole “Kin” incident angered them greatly, as Clancats betrayed their own at the whims of rogues. Her heroic sacrifice won them over enough to let her in, but Needletails general aversion to authority and caustic side remained. Basically, when they got this idea, she was already on the short list of cats they wanted gone.

Appledusk: After Mapleshade went on a rampage (which was partially their fault) they wanted someone to blame alongside Mapleshade, so they settled on Frecklewish. However, as Maple then became a major river demon that drowned apprentices and inflicted generational curses, fingers started pointing again. With everyone else involved being either a leader or a medicine cat (both of which would implicitly lay blame on Starclan) Appledusk was the next one up to get thrown under a bus.

The four are thus no longer Starclan cats, they have been cut off from the stars and their connections to the ancestral plain (I will go more into that later). They can freely roam the earth and each have certain powers that let them influence the mortal world. Also, due to them not being associated with Starclan, at least officially, they can be made easy scapegoats if things go wrong and either the mortals or other Starclan cats start having questions.

This is all overseen by Clear Sky, (if this is a suicide squad anaology, he is the “Amanda Waller”) who was ‘chosen’ (decided) to guide them and punish them if necessary. He is essentially a lesser god and the one that gives them their orders. The question of what is Starclan’s will and what is HIS will is one that tends to pop up.

Overview of all the characters, subject to change based on how I think they would act and also on any new ideas

Feel free to ask questions and also suggestions, this is very barebones so I would be happy to develop it. The cast is not set in stone, or the lore, or the story, or much of anything.

#warrior cats #wc #warrior cats au #appledusk #needletail #mudclaw #ashfur #starclan #au lore

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writingbyshiloh · 1 year ago

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Vampire AU headcanons for the Marquis de Gramont

CW: 18+ for the smut part, Vampires, blood, blood drinking, a brief reference to sex in a mirror, slightly obsessive Vincent, slight NSFW content (but there is a warning before it too), (minor)Vincent blames the reader for drinking their blood, GN! Reader I read it for grammar but we all know how that goes

Summary: Hcs about the Marquis du Gramont in a vampire AU.

AN: I had the BIGGEST crush on Angel from Buffy so anything vampire is a yes from me. I wanted this to be headcanons with a few blurbs sprinkled about. Not sure what it turned out to be, but it's long and I feel like I focused more on the vampire than MVdG. Also thinking of doing vamp!reader and hunter!MVdG. If you don't like this concept it is okay just don't read

Being a vampire hunter is your life, and not to toot your horn but you're fairly good at spotting them, luring them into a secluded place and then killing him

That's how you first spot him.

A friend gave you a spare ticket to a ballet she's in, you dress up and go to support her. It’s good to balance normal things and monster hunting.

The audience is small, spread out in the large theatre. She told you it's a special performance, for benefactors and close family/friends

You go to the bathroom during intermission, but end up bumping into him

Tall, dark hair, a pale face and handsome, his dark suit sparkling under the lights.

It takes a few minutes for you to realize that his a vampire, you’re more so used to the newer ones, drunk on immortal life mostly in night clubs.

He's a gentleman though, oozing manners. If you had to guess he’s a couple of hundred years old

You extend your hand to him for a handshake and tell him your name. He repeats in a soft French accent. Slender fingers cup your own as he brings your hand to his lips, gently placing a kiss on the back of your hand. You’re embarrassed by how fast your mind goes to all the other places you want to feel his lips. The lights flash above the both of you, a silent reminder that the show will continue. As you make your way back to your seat, half of you hopes that you'll see him again, and the other hopes you never do,

Turns out you don’t have to wait that long before seeing him again. You want to go back to congratulate your friend, tell her how great she was etc. He sees you and “accidentally” bumps into you backstage. Every part of your brain tells you to run, fight, and get away but you don't. You want to know him.

He asks if he can see you again and you tell him to meet you at the Louvre. It’s a public place which makes you feel safer,

Tells you to meet him during the night. You’re not sure how he gets this kind of access to places like this, he's loaded with money, he has to be to rent out a place like this overnight

He tells you about the paintings, pointing out details and societal context that would have been important (almost like he was there during that period hmmm)

And you really should not be alone with a vampire in the museum, and if you were you should take the time to kill him

But something keeps causing you to trust him. Plus you have fighting experience and he doesn’t even look like he gets his hands dirty, You'll be fine? Right? You can protect yourself

(you can't)

He tells you that you should go to his estate, he has a private art collection, which he thinks would suit your tastes more

(Don’t go to his house, you will not make it out the same)

You protest, not wanting to be in a house with a vampire, he tells you to come during the day if it makes you feel safer

It almost feels like a joke when he says it

So you do

He leads the tour of his house but remains fully in the shadows. As long as you’re in the sunlight you'll be fine

The tour ends with his private art collection, you notice a theme of blood, eroticism, murder, and cannibalism.

(He has some portraits of him done over the centuries there too)

You’re so caught up with looking at the paintings of him over time (and how he never ages). Most vampires try to hide what they are, especially with a slayer BUT he's not. He knows what you are and knows that you know what he is

As you admire the paintings, he takes the opportunity to shut the blinds, the gold chandeliers casting light and shadows over his face, making his face look more angular, teeth look sharper etc etc

You’re looking at the painting while he looks at you, and your exposed neck

You’re not making it out unbitten HAHA

Only let's get into a few NSFW ones which lead into a whole other rambling

Neck kissing, hickeys, you name it

He's trying SO SO SO HARD not to bite you but can't resist some indulgences, trying to satisfy the craving by feeling your pulse points with his lips

This goes hand in hand w the classic vampire who can’t drink the blood of a loved one because of they do they won't stop

Eventually, EVENTUALLY he does drink your blood and you both do get into it, but you also lose a lot of blood. His fangs hurt, like a strong pinch but it also feels really good. He can’t stop drinking until he notices that your cries of pleasure are now cries of pain, you’re getting too weak and are feeling sick.

This pulls him out of it, and the last thing you remember is his arms around you and his pale face coveted in your blood

He's so upset that you tempted him into this (it’s still Vincent c’mon), and let him give into the vampiric urges

Would bring you to some medical person in his estate and leave (even though it's his house)

You wake up dazed and confused (unsure if it was a dream but two bite marks on your neck prove it was real) and you KNOW that you NEED to get out of there

You’re able to escape, but he’s not going to let you go that easily.

Okay one more NSFW idea

As prev noted vampires don’t show up in mirrors

And you can feel his, see his hands on you. He's sitting behind you, hands snaking down your body, but you can't see him in the mirror.

You’re literally holding onto his arm but when you glance down you can see his hand but in the mirror, you holding onto nothing

You end up having a lot of sex in mirrors, and he never stops enjoying how surprised it makes you

#actually v nervous posting this one #if U do not jive w the concept pls just ignore #marquis de gramont x reader #the marquis de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #Marquis de Gramont headcanons #the marquis de gramont headcanons #another fic done and dusted this got away form me #I hope u like it anon!!!!!! thank you for requesting!!!!!!!!!!!!#also thank u alissa-xyz for all the gifs u made they def help

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botanicallyinclinednerd · 5 months ago

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More stuff about my Merlin soulmate au:

Something I think I forgot to mention last time is that soulmates take comfort in the presence and physical contact of each other, feeling safe and content with them by their side.

The other kingdoms view Uther's policies on soulmates to be barbaric and cruel, and is a contributing factor to the tension and conflicts Camelot faces with the surrounding kingdoms.

Morgana still goes evil in this one lads, but with an important change of her anger being exclusively directed at Uther, Arthur, and Merlin. Gwen is her soulmate and she loves her, she wants Gwen at HER side. Her rage at getting a vision of Gwen becoming queen isn't because she is queen, but because she's ARTHURS queen (I do want to clarify that Gwen and Morgana's relationship in this au is platonic, but it only makes sense for Morgana to want one of her soulmates to rule beside her, and her other soulmates are her sister and a child)

So all the attempts on Gwen's life are gone (though both the shade plot and the dark tower might still be in play, but with the intention to get Gwen back all to herself, not to harm her)

(Merlin does not know Morgana is one of Gwen's other soulmates until after he poisoned her and Gwen let's slipped that she's really worried about Morgana, but at least she knows she's alive.)

(Gwen being Morgana's soulmate is a treasure trove of angst that I do plan on exploring fully)

The Coming of Arthur is going to be fun in regards to Morgana and Gwen (and Leon)

Morgana promising Gwen that no harm will come to her, not with her by her side.

"I know it's not fair of me to make you choose between soulmates, but Gwen, I can bring peace back to Camelot. Magic can be free again, soulmates cherished as they are supposed to be. Please, join me."

But the thing is, Morgana isn't just asking Gwen to choose between two halves of her soul. She knows both Leon and Merlin would never forsake Arthur, and if she chose Morgana, she would also lose both of them, not just Arthur. It's an unfair position to be in, an impossible situation (she chooses anyway. The Morgana she knew never would have ordered the death of innocent civilians to punish those who would not obey her. Something happened to the girl she loves, shes having trouble recognizing the holder of a piece of her soul)

(Gwen still goes to the dungeon to bring Leon food, though it goes a little differently, with Leon learning that Morgana is her soulmate. More on that in another post)

Arthur is going to repeal the laws against soulmates and magic as soon as he becomes king (he has been aware of Merlin’s status as a sorcerer for years and is unable to see how magic can be evil and corrupting when Merlin is one of the best people he knows and his soulmate to boot)

Due to most of them growing up under laws that prohibit talking about soulmates, it takes everybody far too fucking long to realize that they are all soulmates with each other cause no one says anything or compares notes.

I know its mean, but they finally figure it all out following Lancelot's death

(I have tried to figure out a way for him to survive but I really don't think he can)

(Poor Gwen all alone in Camelot breaking down while helping care for people because she feels Lancelot *die* with only Gaius to help her. No other soulmates available to hold her and help her feel a little less empty, a little less alone.)

Everyone experiencing the same pain and all knowing they just lost Lancelot leads to conversation.

Because while everyone in the group had been bonded with Lancelot, not everyone is bound together, which is totally possible, but Arthur knows he's soul bound to half this group, it would make sense to check if there's others in the group.

I will make a separate post about the events of the darkest hour cause I think this would get very long if I had it in here

Now, something I haven't gotten into yet is the magic part of soulmates (so far it's mainly been the destiny and social ramifications and interpersonal details)

Soulmarks are magic, and in some cases, an individual can develop a soulmate ability, a single ability that can be used in regards to exclusively one's bonded soulmates

Now these abilities vary in strength and specificity, some are dictated by touch, others apply no matter where they are in the world

Some soulmate abilities I've come up with thus far are:

The ability to always know what direction their soulmate is in relation to themself

The ability to know when their soulmate is lying to them, and a more broad varient of always knowing when they are lying period

The ability to always instinctually know what it is their soulmate truly means when they speak (I'm very tempted to give this to Gwen because I think it would make things interesting with Morgana, but I am worried it might break things a bit)

The ability to know what their soulmate is feeling emotionally by looking at them or touching them (I think I'm going to give this one to Leon?)

An ability confined to touch that brings to the soulmate's attention what their body most needs at that moment. (It's requires intent to be put into use, and it doesn't necessarily make the soulmate do that thing? It's not compulsory. It's more "Hey you're fucking exhausted you need sleep," or "Crying sounds so nice right now," or "Dude, EAT," and they can still fight these things, if they choose to, but those things are now at the forefront of their attention (making them more likely to be heeded))

Now, an ability I've thought EXTENSIVELY about:

A very rare and (before Uther nuked everything having to do with magic and soulmates) coveted ability that allows someone to, through constant touch, share their life force with their dying soulmate in order to keep then alive.

So say, for example, somebody (Soulmate A) is actively bleeding out from a fatal wound. The soulmate with the ability (Soulmate B) would have to touch soulmate A, skin to skin contact, and have this desperation, determination that soulmate A will not die, they won't let them.

Now, a couple things would happen.

One: Soulmate B's soulmark on Soulmate A's skin would move in some way to the point of injury (the method may vary depending on what their mark looks like. Like if the mark was a flower, the stem may extend and the mark itself stays stationary, or if it's something that's alive it would just fully move) and start "healing" the wound

Healing being in quotes because

Two: The injury is really being transferred partially to Soulmate B, enough so that the injury to Soulmate A is no longer immediately fatal, for the duration that they keep contact with Soulmate A. This buys Soulmate A time to be healed properly, but if the underlying injury is not healed in a timely manner, both Soulmate A and B could die.

Healing Soulmate A would also heal Soulmate B, as it was never truly their injury (though it sure feels and acts like it, and can be just as deadly if help isn't gotten in time.)

Because this ability is so inherently magic and is considered a spell, Soulmate B, even if they have the capacity to use other magic, can not cast a healing spell while using this spell, as it's only possible to cast one spell at a time.

I am naturally giving this ability to Merlin.

But the thing about abilities like this one is that it's impossible to know if you have it or not until the situation calls for it for the first time. It's impossible to know until your soulmate is dying right in front of you. Until you reach out and wish with every fiber in your being that they survive and they DO

The other thing about this ability? It can only be used once per soulmate. One get out of death free card and that's it

I haven't fully figured out if the dark tower would still happen, but if it does, Merlin would discover this ability saving Elyan's life (with the help of the knights who have to on the fly learn healing magic or else lose *both* of them)

That's going to be it for this post as it's starting to get long, but I have other posts I'm already working on. Also, if anyone has any questions, ideas, or suggestions in regards to this au, please feel free to send them my way!

#liv writes #merlin #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #sir lancelot #gwen #guinevere pendragon #morgana pendragon #sir elyan #the knights of the round table #platonic soulmate au merlin edition #sir leon #i might be able to save lancelot during the shade plot but it would be angsty as fucking shit and they might end up choosing to let him go #if the saving your soulmate from the brink of death ability feels a bit wonky its because i first developed this au and this ability #in a modern setting with doctors and hospitals and surgery and systems in place to accommodate situations like this #its a bit more iffy in a medieval world where a cold can be a death sentence and the only way to really ensure survival is magic #the next post will get into some scenes scattered through the time line including gwen and leons conversation in the dungeons #all of them actually involve leon and id apologize for that but it would be disingenuous so i wont #i love him okay and i enjoy writing for him hes the main character of my heart

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unseededtoast · 8 months ago

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Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Eight

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

Heading west, I keep walking through the night, though it's less than ideal. I take my time, wanting to stay quiet and undetected by both infected and people. The silence of the night allows my mind to mull over what I found today and how everything is supposed to fit together.

My mind can't seem to figure anything out that makes sense. The map is the only thing that makes the most sense to me. The notes, the game tallies, they all seem so odd but there has to be some connection. There has to be some reason these people were tasked with killing a specific age range of children in QZ's across the country. There has to be some reason they're connected to the Fireflies. I'm seeing bits and pieces of the picture, but not the full painting.

But what if this is all a bit bigger than I can take on? Am I walking myself right towards a death sentence? Maybe. Could I be making the wrong decision to go to Nebraska? Possibly.

The other alternatives are either to retreat back to the QZ and be stuck wondering for the rest of my life, or try to track down which QZ the others went to, and I could miss them and have wasted time. But if I guess which QZ they're going to next, I could possibly save more lives. I've never been good at gambling, and yet I find myself playing at the highest stakes.

Each step seems to take ten times the effort as normal as I consider my options, trying to see which is the most logical, which would give me the best odds of finding these people. As soon as I think I've made a decision, I second guess myself. It feels like there's no right decision to be made.

I stop walking in the middle of a street and stare straight up at the dark sky, the stars shining brightly down. If only they could give me the answer. The sound of a clicker in a nearby skyscraper gets me moving again, towards the interstate. It seems I've made up my mind, and only time will tell if this was the right decision.

Readjusting my backpack and yawning, I take in my surroundings so that I'm not ambushed by infected. Sometimes it seems like they come out of nowhere. My thoughts seem to run in circles until it starts to drive me mad. I have to think of something else or I'm going to go insane. And after searching for something, the green sign above the road distracts my mind and reminds me of the stranger I met only yesterday.

I wonder how Joel is doing, how his journey is going so far. He seemed seasoned to life outside a QZ, his time away from Boston likely forced him to adapt. Whatever job it was that he took to get out of Boston must have caused him to not want to return. But no matter the reason, I hope that he has a safe journey, I'm sure whoever is waiting for him is worried sick.

My path leads me to a roadblock where an old FEDRA checkpoint used to be, just before the entrance ramp of the highway. Cars are parked bumper to bumper and there's sandbags stacked on top of each other supporting a thick line of barbed wire. Knowing I can't climb overtop of it, I take a right and decide to go around. Sure, this is going to delay my trip slightly, but it's better than trying to go overtop of barbed wire. I don't really feel like nursing open wounds on my way to Nebraska.

As I go to turn left to get back on track I immediately stop moving. Standing in the street are three runners, all hunched over with quiet sobs. A clicker cries out somewhere close, its screeches ricochet off the buildings and echoes into the open air. My heart hammers in my chest and I take careful steps backwards so that I can keep my eyes on them. Thankfully, they don't see me and I'm able to get back to the front of the barricade.

I take a left instead, and hope for a better outcome. Bracing myself, I turn the corner and am in disbelief with what I see. There are four runners standing in the road. My eyes trail down the street and I see that they're all trapped here. The FEDRA barricade extends down the streets so that the infected in the Boston area can't use this ramp to get onto the highway. On one of the barricade sections I see the telltale sign of a door, there's a giant FEDRA sign hanging above it. That door would be a direct path to the road if it weren't for the infected. It seems that there's no unobstructed way for me to get to the highway. I'm up against seven runners and a clicker, at least. Even during the day I don't know if I could take this on.

Ducking back behind the building I try to formulate some sort of plan. How can I get through this barricade without the infected noticing me? I know the door is to the left, but there's no way I can get past all of those infected and open it. Even if I do sneak to the door, I know it's going to make sound when I open it, and that's like ringing the dinner bell for them.

Sound would be like ringing a dinner bell. An idea comes to my mind and I spot an abundance of bricks laying beside one of the cars. If I can get those bricks to all fall at the same time across the street, it should draw them away long enough for me to get to the door. It's still risky, but I think it's my best shot. But how do I get them to fall at the same time?

I don't see a way that I can pull that plan off without considerable time, and I don't have time to be stopped up here, not with all the infected. I stare at the pile of bricks and another idea crosses my mind. What if I use them to get over the barricade? I could lay the bricks in a way that I could get over the barbed wire. It might not be the most sophisticated plan, but it's going to have to work.

Quietly, I walk over to the pile and begin picking them up slowly. The barricade is at least six feet high, so I'm going to have to bring bricks up to the top of the sandbags and lay them there before I can construct something over the wire. I slide my backpack off my shoulders so that it's easier to get the bricks to the top of the barricade. Clutching three bricks under one arm, I climb the sandbags and drop them on top. Thankfully, the sand masks the sound of the bricks landing.

I take another trip up with three more bricks without incident, and feel more confident in my plan. On my last trip up with bricks, I drop them on the sandbags, but one of them hits the corner and falls down to the road with a loud crash. The infected hear it and I can tell they're rushing to investigate. I drop down to the road to pick up my backpack and see them coming towards me on both sides. Shit.

With the speed of lighting, I put my backpack on and start climbing the sandbags. I hear them getting closer as I reach the top, their carnal breaths loud in the night. I'm about two inches away from pulling myself to the top when I feel one of them grab my foot and it yanks me down.

My fingers slip on the sandbags and I fall a few inches before I'm able to grab ahold of something. Wildly, I kick my feet in an attempt to get them off of me, but there are too many. In a last ditch effort, I grab my gun from my thigh holster and shoot the ones who drag me down. The shots ring out in the night and I know it's only going to attract more.

The few runners I've shot collapse to the ground, which gives the clicker more space to reach for me. Clickers are infinitely more terrifying than runners, and they're about ten times stronger too. Runners take one bullet to kill, clickers can take at least two or three. I aim my gun towards the clicker and pull the trigger, but it just clicks. It's empty. Quickly, I shove the gun back in the holster and use both hands to grab onto the sandbags.

Adrenaline pumps in my veins and I fight harder to pull myself away from the feral infected. My pant leg rips at the bottom from their clawing and I feel my fingers beginning to slip. Clenching my eyes shut, I grit my teeth and pull with all my might to get away.

Just as I'm about to accept my fate, a shot rings out and one of the infected crumples to the ground. Four more shots hit the clicker, and it falls as well, body twitching on top of the others. Without thinking I pull myself on top of the barricade and whip my head from side to side to see who shot them. I grab my curved knife from my belt and hold it in front of me.

My chest heaves with each breath I take as the adrenaline begins wearing off and the panic sets in. Whoever shot them could be coming for me next. What if it's the T group?

From the shadows I see a figure approaching, slinging a gun behind them as they quickly jog towards me. Once they get close enough, I recognize who it is immediately. It's Joel.

He runs to the barricade and holds out a hand. I put my knife away and offer him my help up the sandbags. We both start using the bricks to construct a makeshift bridge across the barbed wire, the screeches of a dozen approaching infected rushing our movements. Joel takes bricks from my shaking hands and practically stands me up on his own and pushes me across the bridge, my other pant leg ripping from the barbs.

My feet hit the ground with a hard thud, quickly followed by Joel. His hands push on the back of my backpack and one word is clear over the coming stampede.

"Run." We take off sprinting down the highway's entrance ramp. He's slightly faster than me but I keep up well. Joel points to an abandoned car that crashed into a guard rail and I nod, showing him I understand the plan.

We yank open the doors and climb in. If the infected make it over the barricade, they shouldn't see us here and eventually will disperse. The two of us are out of breath and we sit in silence, trying to regain our bearings.

After a few minutes of steadying my breath, I take my backpack off and sit it in my lap. I rest my head on it and lean forward, closing my eyes in an attempt to calm myself down.

"Thank you." I say, slightly breathless. Raising my head from my backpack, I look over to Joel, who's glancing in the mirrors to see what's behind us. His eyes flicker to mine and he gives me a stern nod, opting to stay quiet.

If it weren't for him I'd be some infected's dinner. That fact sinks in and I feel an immense amount of gratitude. He didn't have to save me. He could've left me for dead. Most people wouldn't stick their neck out for someone they barely know, but he did. Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

My gaze turns to the mirrors as well, the two of us anxiously wait to see if the infected are going to make it over. The runners would have no issue scaling the wall given the proper motivation to do so, but they're less likely to if they can't immediately see something that grabs their attention.

After hours of us hunkering down silently in the car, Joel opens his door and gets out. He slings his bag and rifle on his back, looking behind him one more time. I get out and gear up as well. And just like the first time I met him, the silence is almost overwhelming. The morning sunlight begins rising, and I realize we spent almost the entire night in the car.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I debate whether or not I should say anything. Seeing as how he just saved my life, I decide it's the least I can do. I clear my throat and scratch the back of my neck, looking down at the ground to avoid awkward eye contact.

"I just want to thank you again for saving me back there. You really didn't have to put yourself at risk, but I appreciate it." I find the courage to look up, only to see him staring at me already with a fierce intensity.

"I thought you were headed towards that camp?" He asks, totally disregarding my appreciation.

"I was. I mean, I did. One guy was left but he was infected. I found clues though, about where they might be going." I tell him, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. He nods,

"So where're you headed?" He asks again, and it throws me off. This is the most talkative he's ever been.

"Omaha, Nebraska." I say, recalling the city where the large 'T' was located. Joel's eyebrows raise.

"That's quite a ways from here." He points out and I sigh, knowing I'm severely underprepared for the long road ahead.

"Yeah, I know. But I have to do this. I won't be able to live with myself if I don't." I confess to him. I'm well aware my choices defy logic, but, the alternative of letting the guilt eat me alive is worse.

Joel rests his hand on the top of the car and looks down the highway. He shifts his weight around like he's deep in thought for a few minutes. He's probably trying to think of a way to ditch me. Feeling like I'm intruding on his venture home, I speak up again.

"Listen, I appreciate what you did for me back there, all of it. But I know you're trying to get home so I'll get out of your hair, for real this time." I say and extend a hand out to him again, probably for the last time. Like before, he stares at my hand.

"I'm headed west and go right by Omaha." He says, squinting in the sunlight. I drop my hand once I realize he isn't going to take it, meaning we aren't splitting quite yet. My eyebrows draw tightly together in confusion as I try to understand what he's trying to get at. I think I understand, but I need to hear him clarify.

"Meaning what? We tag along 'til Omaha?" I hear the insecurity in my own voice and I hate it. Joel takes his hand back from the top of the car and nods.

"Safer that way, for the both of us." He confirms my thoughts and starts walking down the highway. I follow him, accepting his offer.

We walk side by side down the road, the only sounds being the birds in the sky and our gear rattling around. My mind is buzzing with questions I want to ask him, but I respect that he's a quiet, reserved man.

Every few minutes I check behind us, feeling paranoid that we're being followed. There's never anything there, but I'd rather check and see nothing than not check and be surprised. Joel is less paranoid I think, he walks with a silent confidence that tells me he's no stranger to the outside world. He understands it far better than I do.

The two of us walk for miles without saying a word until we come to an exit ramp. I recognize it as a suburb outside of Boston, but I've never been there before. Joel veers off the highway to the exit and I follow without question.

Off the ramp, there's a small town to the left and a bunch of housing complexes to the right. Seems like the perfect place for infected to be lurking about. But for some reason, I put my blind faith in the man leading me and trail him into the town.

He looks over his shoulder at me and points at a small brick building. I nod and approach it with him, preparing my knife for use. He stands on the opposite side of the entrance doors with his knife in hand, looking to me for confirmation that I'm ready. Silently, I nod and watch as he swings the door open. I wait for the sound of infected, but am pleasantly surprised with silence.

Joel seems to know where he's going though, he heads straight for the back room. I take my time to look around at the front room, seeing if there's anything of use. Most likely there isn't, but every once in a while I get lucky. The sound of whatever Joel is moving is enough to catch my attention, and I stand in the doorway. He's moving a large piece of plywood that's on the floor. There's a hole in the ground, and he drops down into it.

Curiosity gets the best of me and I go over to peek in the hole, seeing a small stash of supplies. Joel rummages around and picks up ammunition, a few cans, and another knife. He turns around and sees me staring above him, and he hands me items he can't carry himself; some cans of food and ammunition, before he pulls himself back out of the hole.

"You stashed that?" I ask quietly. He huffs as he puts away the extra supplies.

"A while ago." He answers and the two of us quickly shove the items in our bags. My bag feels like it gained fifteen extra pounds, but I can't complain. The extra weight means we have better survival odds.

Wordlessly, Joel moves out of the store and heads towards the suburban side of town, only a few miles walk away. The cookie-cutter houses remind me of the neighborhood I used to live in. A small, idyllic place at one point in time, turned to nothing but a ghost town now. Joel approaches the porch of one and opens the door. Luckily, it's empty and I follow him inside.

He blocks the main entrances to the home without a word, and I move to help him. I shove a strong chair underneath the handle of the back door and try to turn the handle to test its durability. After that, I make my rounds on the curtains and close them all. It seems like we're making this our base for the night. Once we've taken all the safety measures that we possibly can, Joel finds his way to the living room and unloads his stuff on the old, worn-down couch.

I place my backpack on the floor next to the couch and lean against the doorframe that connects the living room and kitchen, watching as Joel straightens his back out on the floor. His arms reach above his head to elongate his spine, and I hear the bones pop and crack. Wincing slightly, I turn my attention elsewhere in the house.

My eyes catch the fading family portrait on the wall and I go to look at it. The black frame houses an old photo. There's a man, woman, two kids, and a dog. They're all smiling, even the dog looks happy. My heart tugs at the sight of the happy family, and I can only assume what happened to them, just like so many other families. Sighing, I look at the other photos on the wall, seeing the slow growth of the children through still images. They look like they were probably high school age. My fingers find their way to the necklace that adorns my neck and I squeeze it tight.

A sound from behind me snaps me out of my thoughts and I turn back to see Joel staring at me. I offer him a polite smile and go to take a seat across from him on the floor, resting my back against the old couch. I fiddle with the torn edges of my pants, and can no longer restrain myself from asking questions. There are too many things I want answers to.

"How did you find me at that barricade?" My voice is soft. Joel clears his throat and shrugs.

"I took the long way 'round so I wouldn't interfere with whatever you were doin'. I was plannin' on taking this highway back home anyways. Guess it was just a coincidence." He plainly answers and I nod, accepting his answer.

"What a lucky coincidence." I smile, trying to break through the tension that always seems to hang over us. It's going to be a long trip west if he keeps things this short. He just shrugs in response,

"So what did you find 'bout those people?" He asks. I'm surprised he even cares, but I reach for my bag to show him what I've found. I spread the documents out in front of me and let him look. I explain to him what I know and what my theories are.

"Whoever they are, they need to be eradicated. Those kids, they were-" The tightness in my throat constricts my ability to talk and I take a shaky breath, remembering what it felt like to cradle the dying girl's head. Joel just nods, not needing further elaboration. He holds up the scraps of paper I found in the fire and reads the simple words.

"I'm not sure what those have to do with anything, and I'm not sure there's any sort of connection." I speak up, truthfully not knowing if they're of any value.

He puts the scraps down and picks up another piece of paper, the one with the Firefly insignia on it. As he reads the paper it's like the blood is drained from his face. My eyebrows knit together,

"What is it?" I ask and his startled eyes look deep into mine with fear that he tries to mask. An uneasy feeling settles in me. He looks back down to the paper and re-reads the note before he says anything.

"These bastards aren't going to live much longer." Is all he says before handing everything back over to me. The look on his face is unsettling, so I don't push anything further.

There has to be something he knows about this.

Part Nine

#joel miller #joel tlou #the last of us joel #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic

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layla4567 · 1 year ago

Text

✨ Working together ✨

Luca from the bear x fem!reader

summary: You and Luca are dating and he taught you everything you know about pastry. So now you want to open your own tea house where you will sell your delicious cakes, and of course he will help you in everything.

warnings: almost no connection to the plot of the show or it's world, maybe a lil suggestive, cloying fluff and corny

A/N: again I must clarify that like Colin Zabel's fic, I have not seen this series (sorry) so maybe what I write is not entirely accurate with the show

You and your boyfriend were looking for places for rent or for sale where you could put your little tea house. Being able to serve anything, even an old, abandoned shed, as long as it was located in a nice landscape with a good view, nothing else mattered. Luca was driving his convertible car making your hair blow in the wind. The times were beautiful at that time in Copenhagen, you were wearing sunglasses and a cute flowery dress that your boyfriend loved every time you wore it. For his part, Luca was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, had taken off his kitchen apron and wore blue jeans underneath. Her blond hair also danced in the breeze.

They were driving through the streets of Denmark with the sun shining on their heads. Months ago you told Luca about your dreams and now they were finally coming true. A little anxious you looked to your right trying to find a good place, your boyfriend caressed your knee with the intention of letting you know that everything would be fine

"Don't worry sweetheart, you'll see that we'll find the perfect place"

"I hope so love, only you know how much I waited for this moment"

Yes, Luca knew it well. So many hours practicing pastry and talking about your hobbies, every time he left work and showed up at your house to teach you how to make Aeblekage or a Koldskål you told him how you were planning to open your own little tea house. He looked at you in admiration and assured you that you were going to succeed. And here they were now, looking for a place to settle and where you could cook your delicious desserts accompanied by the love of your life.

Let 'em wonder how we got this far 'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all Yeah, after all this time I'm still into you - Paramore - I'm still into you

At last they had arrived. After tiring around several streets, they found an old abandoned cafe with a dilapidated and crooked sign. It had a window on one side and the walls were dark brick. Above the front door hung a white awning with red stripes, unfortunately it was dirty and had a hole in the middle. Despite everything, you two loved how comfortable and familiar it looked and best of all, it was close to the port just as you wanted. They got out of the car and you began to admire the view, in the distance you could see the water and anchored boats.

"Don't you love it? the place, the sea breeze-you inhaled with your mouth open enjoying the air on your face- I would give anything for more days like this"

Luca looked at you lovingly and wrapped his arms around your waist looking where you were looking

"Have I told you how adorable you are when you talk about what you like?" -Luca kissed your forehead

You wrinkled your nose in contentment. "You tell me every day, hun"

"C'mon your place awaits you"

"Our. Our place awaits us"

They both entered the old building. But happiness disappeared from your pores when you saw that it seemed more dilapidated on the inside than on the outside. The peeling paint on the walls was falling apart, leaving a heap of dust on the floor. There was no furniture left. The wooden ceiling was moldy in places. You couldn't stop the disappointment from drawing on your face. Luca put his arm around your shoulders.

"Hey love it's alright. We can remodel it and I promise you it will be like new. Why don't you go check out the backyard while I find something to clean up?"

Luca is that down to earth and that's what you loved about him. He always found simple solutions to problems that seemed huge. You opened the French window that led to the yard and you felt the flame of hope rekindle in your chest. It was definitely much better than the inside of the building. It wasn't that big, but its low brick walls delimited a large plot. The floor was concrete, and pretty orange flowering vines hung from the walls. You were already imagining how you could use the space by placing beautiful tables with umbrellas.

"Hey babe, I found some brooms and a shovel-"

He stopped when he saw the yard. He also found it beautiful. you turned around with a smile

"So.. what are we waiting for? let's restore this place"

You got to dig a little deeper Find out who you are You got to dig a little deeper It really ain't that far When you find out who you are You'll find out what you need Blue skies and sunshine guaranteed - The princess and the frog - Dig a little deeper

Luca offered you a shovel and together they began to sweep the floor, the dust made them cough and tickled their noses that made you sneeze like a kitten, Luca laughed every time he heard you. The following days were exhausting but pleasant. You bought turquoise paint for the inside of the walls, you two had a blast painting and doing a little mischief

"(Y/N) what do you think if we paint a strip of small sailboats in a darker color? It would go all the way across the wall, but we would need a stencil"

Luca pointed with a finger where the stencil would go, with his muscular and bare arm you couldn't help but pretend to pay attention to him and with your hand that held the brush, paint his wrist. He looked at you surprised, throwing you a reproachful look but deep down he couldn't suppress a smile.

"Oh (Y/N) you're very immature"

You closed your eyes laughing at what he took advantage of to paint the tip of your nose. When you felt something cold and wet on your nose, you opened your eyes and mouth offended, with a defiant grimace they started a paint war, their laughter mixed and echoed throughout the room, your boyfriend grabbed your wrists with the intention that your brush doesn't touch his face. In the end they ended up in a fiery kiss with their hands stained with paint leaving marks on your breasts and buttocks and with yours likewise scattered throughout their entire body, they looked like an abstract painting.

Every day you two were buying things to decorate the tea house. They had bought beautiful brown leather sofas at auction. You had gotten landscape paintings to hang on the wall at a vintage store. The most difficult thing had been to remove the wood from the roof, since some had been ruined by humidity. But by turns they had proposed to remove them little by little. Luca climbed a ladder and took some out, then you, in your eagerness to help, told him to lift you up so you could reach the roof. You always felt a tingle of adrenaline in your belly every time your boyfriend grabbed you by the waist and made you sit on his shoulders. And when you two couldn't handle everything on your own, you hired masons and workers who were very helpful.

With a little effort they managed to restore everything that was damaged, they changed the previous awning for a bigger one and a green one. They placed pots on the outside door and some hanging from the window. You were even able to put the tables you wanted in the backyard with their matching black iron chairs. When everything was ready in terms of decoration and remodeling, you went to the kitchen to prepare tea and desserts, it was the only thing that was missing before opening.

"Dear, could you help me with the dough?"-you asked him nicely

You were about to make some kind of Danish apple pie. Luca approached from behind, pulling his body against your back, which made a shiver run through your body. His arms and hands on top of yours accompanied your movements with a slow and loving rhythm. They stretched the dough back and forth and then rolled it back into a ball. Sometimes Luca teased you mischievously kissing your neck or behind your ear, with his nose buried in your hair. His kisses went down to your shoulder, making you sigh

"Luca…-you said in a warning tone- How unprofessional"

"Oh come on I know you love it"

You turned your head to kiss him. They finished cooking several desserts and also the different teas including iced teas.

And the great day had arrived to open the doors of your tea house. It would only take a few minutes to welcome the people of the city. Both were nervous but especially you, you couldn't believe that your dream would finally come true. With trembling hands you took the key that opened the door, put it in the lock and turned it. It was done

"We did it.."-you looked at his face with happy tears in your eyes.

"You did it"- he corrected you wiping your tears - "It's your dream, don't forget it"

"Dreams can be shared, and that's what I'm doing with you"

He looked at you sweetly and grabbed your chin with his thumb to kiss you passionately. Customers started arriving for snacks, and soon the place was packed both inside and out. Luca promised to help you in the kitchen and you would go and serve the dishes along with the tea. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, everyone was happy and so were you. You almost needed four more arms to serve so many people but you didn't care because that was what you wanted, a place where people can remember the warmth of their home while tasting delicacies prepared with love and delicacy, and if your boyfriend was by your side better. At the end of the day when people left and your place was about to close you and your boyfriend lay exhausted on the leather sofa, it was a busy day but it was satisfying at the same time. You placed your head on Luca's lap as he caressed your cheek.

"Today was the best day of my life, I still can't believe that all of this is real. It's like a sweet dream that I never want to end"

"But it's real love, and we made it together. Although if you want I can pinch you to prove it"

You two laughed amused letting the now empty room fill with your warm laughter that then floated in the air like a sweet dew.

Maybe, it's the way you say my name Maybe, it's the way you play your game But it's so good, I've never known anybody like you But it's so good, I've never dreamed of nobody like you And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine - Ruth B - Dandelions

. . . . . . . .

I know, this was maybe a bit boring and too cheesy but I'm a hopeless romantic and I couldn't not write something like that.

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