#HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM i yell at a character i made in a situation i put them in

[buckets-and-trees]

Did you intend to prompt more I'm Your Man Andy with this? Perhaps not, Kris, but... IYM!Andy's track record doesn't support doing things because YOU want him to, does it? 😏

Title: Burned Off the Haze Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 4.5k Summary: Things only continue to escalate after Andy's meeting your parents, and he only continues to keep his control of your lives together. Takes place directly after Don't Look Too Far.

Content/Warnings: emotional manipulation; mild smut: kissing, vaginal fingering; use of pet name (sweetheart)

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

A/N 2: No one should be surprised this man would make sure he got his week in the Countdown to Chris-mas!

You’re waiting impatiently for Andy to get home from his day at the country club with your father. You meet him at the top of the stairs leading from the garage on the lower level.

“When were you going to tell me you had decided on a wedding here in Boston instead of eloping?”

With casual determination, Andy wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you close. His lips meet yours in a passionate, all-consuming kiss that sends shivers down your spine. Every touch ignites a fire within you, the intensity of his embrace leaving you breathless and wanting more. The world starts to fade away as you get lost in the moment with him, but then you push against his chest and turn your head away.

“Andy! Answer me!” you insist as you extricate yourself from his arms - though he lets you go freely, not forcing you to stay in his embrace.

“I would have told you over dinner last night, but…” he trails off, giving you a meaningful look.

You step back, putting more distance between you and Andy. "But what? I was too busy smashing up your cars?"

“No, you largely refused to talk to me through dinner. And then after,” Andy's lips quirk in amusement, "we were otherwise occupied the rest of the evening, if you recall."

Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of your passionate encounter. You push those thoughts aside, refusing to be distracted. "You made another huge decision without even consulting me."

“I only achieved what I have because I learned when to double down and when to pursue a different course of action,” Andy replies. “I thought you might prefer a proper wedding with your family and friends present."

You shake your head in frustration. "That's not the issue here, Andy. It's that you keep making these choices for us, for me, without including me in the process. Forcing our engagement, meeting my parents behind my back, making big calls about our wedding? What's next?"

Andy's eyes flash with irritation, his piercing blue gaze fixed on you. "After meeting your parents, I decided a small but proper wedding is the better move."

You narrow your eyes, sensing there's more to this sudden change of plans. "It can’t only be meeting my parents that inspired this change of heart; you’re not that sentimental."

Andy smirks. “Good assessment - your intelligence is one of the things that drew me to you. But your parents are good people who love you deeply,” he continues, his voice taking on a softer tone. “They've been dreaming of your wedding day probably since you were born. Your mother's eyes lit up when she talked about helping you choose a dress, about flowers and cake tastings. Your father... well, he tried to hide it, but I could see how much it would mean to him to walk you down the aisle."

He pauses, letting his words sink in. You feel a warmth in your heart for what he says about your parents because you know he’s not wrong, your mother had gushed about those very things while you had lunch together. But there’s also an ache in your throat because you’re so angry, you want to cry and yell and rage at him.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And how does this suit your purposes, Andy?"

His eyes darken slightly as he regards you. "A proper society wedding cements our union in the eyes of both our worlds - the legitimate business sphere and the less legitimate one. It sends a clear message about my intentions."

"Your intentions?" you press, feeling a chill run down your spine.

Andy steps closer, his imposing frame looming over you. "That you are mine, irrevocably. That I will protect what's mine with everything I have." His voice is low, almost a growl. "And that anyone who even thinks of touching you or using you against me will face severe consequences."

You swallow hard, torn between fear and an unwelcome flicker of desire at his possessive words. "I'm not a possession, Andy. You can't just stake your claim."

Andy's eyes flash dangerously and in one swift motion he has you pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours. One hand grips your hip while the other cups your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

"Can't I?" he growls, his voice low and rough. "You're wearing my ring. You're living in my home. You've shared my bed. Tell me, sweetheart, how are you not mine?"

Your breath catches in your throat. You want to argue, to push him away, but your traitorous body responds to his proximity. Heat pools in your core as his scent envelops you.

"I-" you start, but the words are cut off as Andy's mouth crashes down on yours.

The kiss is fierce, demanding, stealing your breath and your resistance. His tongue plunders your mouth as his body presses you firmly against the wall. You can feel every hard plane of his muscular form molded against your softer curves.

Despite your anger and frustration, your body betrays you. Your hands fist in his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. A moan escapes your throat, swallowed by his insistent lips.

Andy's hand slides from your hip to your thigh, hitching your leg up around his waist. The new angle allows him to grind against you, and you gasp at the friction. Your head falls back against the wall, breaking the kiss.

"Andy," you pant, your voice a mix of protest and plea.

He takes advantage of your exposed neck, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. He trails his lips up to your ear. "You are mine," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "Have I not made that clear from the first night I claimed you, sweetheart."

His words send a shiver down your spine. You want to argue, to deny the claim he's making on you, but your body is singing with need. Andy's hand slips under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"You can’t tell me you don't want this," he challenges, his voice husky. “I know your body too well now. If I put my hand between your legs, I know I’ll find you wet for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Andy's words send a rush of heat through your body. You know he's right - you can feel the slick evidence of your arousal. But you refuse to give in so easily.

"That doesn't mean anything," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "My body's reactions don't change the fact that you're making decisions about our lives without me."

Andy pulls back slightly, his piercing blue eyes studying your face. His hand moves from under your shirt to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Old habits die hard, sweetheart. I'm used to making decisions and having them followed without question."

You blink in surprise at his admission. It's more than you expected from him.

"But if I left every decision up to you now, we'd never get anywhere," Andy continues, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You'd keep fighting this, keep denying what's between us."

You want to argue, but you know there's truth in his words. You've been resisting at every turn, even as your body betrays you with its desire for him.

"That doesn't make it right," you say softly, your anger deflating slightly. "I need to have a say in my own life, Andy. In our life together, if that's what this is going to be. Do you even want that? Want us?"

Andy's eyes search yours for a long moment. "We will have our wedding, and I have some stipulations, but I’ll leave the rest to you. September fifteenth, and we leave the next day for our honeymoon in Italy."

It's not what you want, but it's the first thing he’s giving you. You let out a shaky breath, nodding.

He steps away from you completely, and your body falls forward slightly without his pinning you to the wall. Once he steadies you, he begins to walk away.

“The wedding planners will be here tomorrow morning at ten, and then after lunch I need you to accompany me to a business meeting with one of my lawyers.”

You stand there for a moment, processing Andy's words. A mixture of emotions swirls within you - frustration at his continued control, a flare of disappointment of him leaving you unsatisfied, and apprehension about these meetings he has already arranged.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts. "Wait," you call out. "Why are we meeting with a lawyer? Aren’t you technically a lawyer?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly, turning back to look at you briefly, “but does a doctor not have their own doctors?”

You nod, and he resumes his progress down the hall.

You watch Andy walk away, your mind reeling from the conversation and the intense moment you just shared. Part of you wants to call him back, to continue the argument or maybe even give in to the desire still thrumming through your body. But you stay silent, letting him go.

Once he's out of sight, you slump against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart. The whiplash of emotions - anger, frustration, desire, and now a strange brand of hopeful wariness - leaves you feeling drained.

You push yourself off the wall and make your way to the room you’ve been given as a personal study. You need time to process everything that just happened. As you enter, your eyes land on the engagement ring glittering on your finger. You twist it absently, thinking about Andy's words.

A proper wedding. Your parents' joy. Andy's claim on you. It's all so overwhelming.

But what haunts you is was what he didn’t say.

Does he want a life together? Does he want an us?

Caught in the danger of that before, you were able to get away, but there’s no telling how dangerous Andy Barber is. You’ve only witnessed a fraction of his power and control. He’s created a connection with your parents. You have no doubt he knows far too much valuable information about your life, so would any kind of escape even be possible? And if it were, would anyone you left behind be safe?

In the room you’ve been given as your study, you spend some time tending to your collection of potted plants, carefully trimming away a few dead leaves and watering where you find dry soil. You settle into your favorite armchair and immerse yourself in a novel, getting lost in its pages until the housekeeper interrupts to announce that dinner is ready. You make your way to the dining room, but notice that your partner Andy is not there. When you ask about his absence, you’re told he went out to tend to some business. Afterwards, you retreat to the couch in the living room and watch old episodes of your favorite sitcom, finding comfort in the familiar characters and laughter.

You go to sleep alone for the first time since the night of his gala.

The hours tick by as you lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. The vast emptiness of the king-sized mattress seems to mock you, a stark reminder of Andy's absence. The night stretches on endlessly as you toss and turn in the vast, empty bed. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimes eleven, then midnight, then one. Where is Andy? What "business" could keep him out so late? You try to push away the nagging worry, reminding yourself that you shouldn't care, that his absence should be a relief. But a small traitorous part of your heart that has begun to yearn for his presence betrays you.

No, you don’t yearn for him. You’re just accustomed to him.

With each passing hour, your anxiety grows. Eventually you drift in and out of fitful sleep, your mind racing with thoughts of the day's events, the impending wedding, and the uncertain future that lies ahead.

You wake just enough to register Andy pulling your body to his chest as he settling in behind you. The first hints of dawn are only beginning to creep through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of pink and gold, “Mmm, Andy?” you hum sleepily.

“Shh,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, “you can sleep, sweetheart.”

And so you drift off again, unaware of your body softening in his arms.

But when your alarm goes off at seven, you’re alone in the bed once again.

You tell yourself you’re relieved.

You stretch and yawn, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess from your restless night. As you sit up, your eyes land on a note propped against the lamp on your nightstand. Andy's precise handwriting stares back at you:

Meeting ran late. Had to leave early for another. Remember - wedding planners at 10. Wear something nice for the lawyer meeting after lunch. - Andy

You crumple the note in your fist, a mixture of frustration and disappointment churning in your gut. Even when he's not here, Andy is directing your day. You force yourself out of bed, determined to at least choose your own outfit for the morning.

After a quick shower, you select a casual but stylish ensemble - fitted jeans and a soft, short sleeved sweater in a deep emerald green that brings out your eyes. As you're applying the last touches of makeup, your phone chimes with a text from your mom. The one silver lining with the turn of events after the weekend is that your relationship with your parents is back on track since you’re no longer hiding a sudden and inexplicable engagement to Andy.

After a solitary breakfast, you go back to your study and set to work at a beautiful desk near one of the windows, diving into emails and looking over the calendar of upcoming events and the needs for your team this week to be ready for your weekly 11am strategy session.

Back in the spring when you had taken on Andy Barber as a client for the largest gala and one of the largest events your company had ever planned, you had strategically not accepted any book dates for a full six weeks afterwards. You had wanted to ensure that everything went off perfect for the Barber Gala without compromising any events that would come right in its wake. The fee for the services of you and your team was more than enough to accommodate that break in the events schedule, and it was a decision that you were infinitely glad you had made as it had worked out well for suddenly being ensnared into Andy’s life. Rather than renting any formal office space, you and your team worked remotely and always went to clients and vendors or the event venue to meet rather than making them come to you. It had the added benefit of building rapport with people you worked with and enhancing your reputation as being a team who valued the partner you were working with.

With the break in the schedule and fully remote office, you had been able to fully put off any revelation about your new arrangements with your team of three. Even with the video chats, you’d simply used virtual backgrounds to mask your new surroundings.

You manage to wrap up the agenda for your 11am a few minutes before the wedding planners are expected to arrive. You tap your pen on your planner, mulling things over. Since events are in your blood, it’s possible you could wrap up an initial meeting with the wedding planners before your team’s meeting - especially because you’ve been through all this before, you know who the best vendors are, and you have stowed away a slew of ideas for the wedding you thought may at some point take place in the future with some unknown future husband. Worst case scenario, you’ll excuse yourself from Andy and the wedding planners for a few minutes at eleven to jump on the call, say you’ve got an awful headache or something, and hand over the meeting to your number two, Effy, and then get back to Andy. Something tells you Andy would not love you bailing completely at 11.

Satisfied enough with your game plan, you close your laptop and head toward the front of the palatial home to be present when the wedding planners arrive.

“Just in time,” Andy says as you enter the foyer.

You freeze momentarily at the sound and sight of Andy. He's leaning against the doorframe of his study, looking impeccable in a crisp white shirt and tailored slacks. His blue eyes rake over you appreciatively.

"You look nice," he says, his voice low and intimate.

“Thank you,” you respond, trying to keep your voice neutral.

He reaches you and cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. Before you can react, he leans in and captures your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Despite your desire to stay simmering with anger at him, you find yourself melting into the kiss - as always, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire. "Good morning, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You're about to respond when the doorbell chimes, signaling the arrival of the wedding planners. Andy's hands drop from your face, one sliding down to the small of your back as he guides you towards the door.

"Shall we?" he asks, his tone light but leaving no room for argument.

You nod, squaring your shoulders as Andy opens the door to reveal the wedding planners.

Better known as your team - Effy, Lila, and Dev.

They cheer and shout “Surprise” and “Congratulations” and rush in with champagne, flowers, and a platter of pastries and fruit from one of your favorite bakery vendors.

Your jaw drops as you stare at your team in disbelief. Effy, your right-hand woman, is beaming as she holds out a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Lila, your creative genius, is practically bouncing with excitement, her arms full of a stunning bouquet of peonies and garden roses in shades of blush and cream. Dev, your logistics wizard, balances a tray laden with an assortment of pastries from Maison de Sucre, the French bakery you've used for countless events.

"What... how?" you stammer, torn between shock, joy, and a surge of anger at Andy for orchestrating this without your knowledge.

"Andy called us yesterday," Effy explains, her eyes sparkling. "He thought you might appreciate some familiar faces to help plan your big day - and who else would you trust to plan a rush wedding?"

You turn to glare at Andy, but he merely smirks. You’re acutely aware of not only a need to keep up appearances, but a want to save face on your part, as well. So as they laugh at your glare, you quickly shift into a pleasant game face and channel the part of you that does want to share in the excitement of your team, and rush to give them hugs and usher them inside.

in just under two hours, most of your wedding is planned. Your team came prepared, knew your tastes, and had connections they were ready and eager to tap for your whirlwind wedding.

Playing the part of Andy’s blissfully happy fiancé to keep your team from suspecting anything was amiss had been difficult and yet simple in equal measure.

Andy offers to leave when you suggest that you touch base for the weekly strategy session, but your team encourages him to stay. So he does. You marvel at how masterfully he charms everyone around him. You know he often manages this with you, as well.

Everything is on track with your team for the upcoming events - including a redistribution of tasks and responsibilities that they’ve already discussed to lighten your load leading up to the wedding. They insist so you can take care of all the bride things they imagine you’ll be doing leading up to the nuptials. Your eyes meet Andy’s, and you see the glow of satisfaction radiating off of him.

Your team begins to pack up their materials. You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. On one hand, you're touched by their enthusiasm and grateful for their expertise, their thoughtfulness. On the other, you feel guilty for the deception, for allowing them to believe in a fairytale romance that doesn't truly exist.

"Well, I think we've made excellent progress," Effy says, closing her laptop with a satisfied smile. "We'll get started on the vendor contracts right away and have them ready for your review by tomorrow afternoon."

You nod and smile. "Thank you all so much. I... I don't know what to say."

Lila gives you a warm hug. "We're just so happy for you! And don't worry about a thing - we'll make sure your day is absolutely perfect."

“I know you will.”

As they gather their things and head towards the door, you notice Andy hanging back, eyes ever watching all your interactions.

You walk your team to the door, exchanging final hugs and promises to touch base soon. As Dev, the last to leave, steps out, he turns back with a grin.

"By the way, boss, nice job keeping this under wraps. We had no idea!"

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as hollow as it feels. "Well, you know me. I love a good surprise."

As soon as the door closes behind them, you lean against it, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. When you open them, Andy is standing before you, his expression unreadable.

"That went well," he says casually.

You push off the door, anger flaring. "You had no right to involve my team without telling me."

Andy raises an eyebrow. "You wouldn’t have agreed, I know you’ll appreciate the gesture in the end, and they’re the best in the business, are they not?"

"That's not the point," you snap. "This is what we talked about yesterday! Making decisions without me!”

“This was already arranged before that discussion, and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” he says with a smirk. “You love a good surprise - you just said so yourself.”

You raise your hand to slap him, but he catches your wrist, his smirk vanishing, replaced with a stern look. You huff and try to pull away, but Andy's grip on your wrist tightens, his eyes darkening with a dangerous glint. In the next instant, he pulls you flush against his body, his other hand snaking around your waist to hold you in place. The sudden movement knocks the breath from your lungs, and you're acutely aware of every hard plane of his muscular form pressed against you.

"Careful, sweetheart," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with."

A chill runs down your spine as you're reminded of the power this man wields. The charming facade he'd worn for your team has vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating persona you've glimpsed before. His blue eyes, usually so captivating, now resemble chips of ice.

"Let me remind you," Andy continues, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm not just some wealthy businessman playing at power. I've built an empire, both in the light and the shadows. I've crushed men who dared to cross me."

His words send a shiver through you - fear and unwanted desire warring within. You try to push against his chest, but he doesn't budge.

"I'm not afraid of you," you say, your voice shakier than you'd like.

Andy chuckles darkly. "You have no reason to be as long as you don’t cross me."

He releases your wrist only to cup your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "And here's the thing - I don't want you to fear me. But make no mistake - you are mine now. This is your life."

With lightning speed, Andy spins you around, pressing you face-first against the door. His body cages you in, one hand still gripping your wrist while the other slides up to wrap around your throat. Not choking, but asserting control. You gasp, your heart racing as Andy's lips brush against your ear. "The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be."

His hand tightens slightly on your throat, just enough to make breathing a conscious effort. You should be terrified, should be fighting to get away. But your traitorous body responds to his dominance, a rush of heat pooling low in your belly.

"Andy," you whisper, unsure if it's a plea or a protest.

“You'll be my wife, my partner. But you need to understand your place in this world we're building together."

He releases your throat, his hand sliding down to cup your breast through your sweater. You arch into his touch involuntarily, earning a dark chuckle from him.

"That's it," he growls. "Remember how good we are together.”

Andy's hand kneads your breast as his lips trail hot kisses down your neck. Despite your anger and frustration, a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy murmurs against your skin. "Let go of it all."

His free hand slides down your body, deftly unbuttoning your jeans. You know you should stop him, should push him away, but the heat of his body against yours, the skilled touch of his fingers, makes it hard to think straight.

Just as his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, there’s an insistent buzzing of his phone.

He answers the phone even as his fingers begin to work the slick lips of your cunt.

“Yes?” he prompts.

You can hear every word without the phone being put on speaker since Andy’s pressed up against you.

"Mr. Barber? The cars are ready for your lunch meeting, sir."

“Good. The future Mrs. Barber and I will be down in no more than ten minutes,” he says. There’s an acknowledgment on the other end of the line, and then hangs up.

Andy thrusts a finger inside you, making you gasp, before withdrawing his hand completely. “Go get changed,” he says, “you heard, we have our next appointment and need to be on our way.”

You're left breathless and frustrated as Andy steps away, his warmth disappearing from your back. Your body trembles with unfulfilled desire, and you have to resist the urge to reach for him, to beg him to finish what he started.

"Andy," you begin, your voice husky with need.

He cuts you off with a sharp look. "We don't have time. Go change. Now."

The command in his voice sends another shiver through you. You want to argue, to demand he explain himself, to finish what he started. But the ice in his eyes tells you it would be futile. With shaking hands, you button your jeans and smooth down your sweater.

"Fine," you say, trying to inject some venom into your voice.

You turn and head towards the stairs, feeling Andy's eyes on you the whole way.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[nellandvoid]

some silly sketches of silvia and stan from several points on their life! alliteration goes crazy

stan and silvia are divorced, but they are besties by the time the twins come to town and maybe there’s some unresolved feelings between them but who’s to say?

the two pics on the right are the first and latest time silvia helped stan with an injury, which was mainly just anatomy and expression practice

i’m falling in love with them more and more and they are burrowing further into my brain but i’m not complaining

feel free to ask questions about her please i wanna talk about her so bad!!!

[ravengards-rogue]

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ; 

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun. 

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him. 

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate. 

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy. 

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures. 

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember. 

 Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him. 

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain. 

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down. 

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something. 

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while. 

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately. 

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you. 

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish. 

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting. 

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit. 

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs. 

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,” 

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,” 

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,” 

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.” 

You giggle back at him 

“What kinda trouble is that now?” 

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice. 

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn. 

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted. 

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it. 

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily. 

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

 Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show. 

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp. 

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms. 

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine. 

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that. 

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.) 

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did. 

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it.  It was just all too easy again, to be with you. 

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family. 

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see.  Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

 It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street. 

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy.  John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you. 

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you. 

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision. 

You might turn him into a literate man yet. 

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life. 

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself. 

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck. 

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?” 

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you. 

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,” 

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat. 

“John,”  

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.” 

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,” 

“A foolish one,” 

John laughs. 

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get.  He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently. 

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.) 

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters. 

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living. 

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is)  loyal to Dutch. To the gang. 

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long. 

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time.  He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about. 

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around. 

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen.  If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing. 

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.) 

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit. 

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would. 

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d  never find again. 

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves. 

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too. 

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way  they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you. 

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him. 

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him.  You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,” 

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease.  All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides.  You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space. 

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words. 

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.” 

Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ; 

Wandering. 

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on. 

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly. 

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains. 

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few. 

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it. 

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list. 

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

 You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are. 

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him. 

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some. 

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you.  And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything. 

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not. 

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss. 

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars. 

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze. 

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks. 

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?” 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?” 

“Please, what?” 

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.” 

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life.  “Yeah, that’s good to hear.” 

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto. 

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head. 

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,” 

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires. 

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you. 

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed. 

“Kiss?” 

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Baby

❥Yandere Park Seonghwa x fem reader

SPOOKTOBER SPECIAL

➯a/n: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent a healthy little and caregiver relationship, or a healthy relationship of any kind. this is messed up but i wanted to experiment with my writing and i think i succeeded. let me know what you think of this cause i would love love looooove to write more

✃ "You're my baby, say it to me." - Mitski, I Bet on Losing Dogs

✫彡wordcount: 4k

♡'･ᴗ･'♡(ಡ‸ಡ)genre: yandere, HEAVY angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: stockholm syndrome, mind breaking, spanking, mentions of bribery, mommy hwa (i cannot help myself)

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

✩index: little space; a regressed state of mind where one feels like a child. hyung; a name for an older male friend or sibling, used by other males.

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

    "I'm home, sorry I'm late!" Seonghwa called out as he entered the apartment, looking around the empty rooms. "Baby?" He peeked into the kitchen, dinner untouched on the stove. "San?" The living room, the news channel on mute. "Mingi?" Both of his roommates rooms, desolate.

"No!" Your shout calls him to his room at the end of the hall, followed by a clanging and a yell of pain from his friend.

"Baby?! Baby!?" He turns into his room in a panic, eyes wide as he witnesses the scene infront of him.

You're curled up in a ball in the corner of his bed- head in your knees- with San holding Mingis arm as he curses under his breath, one of your bottles on the floor at their feet. "Hyung," He turns quickly and picks up the bottle, pointing it at you accusingly, "she threw this at Mingi!"

"Baby, why would you do that?" He takes the bottle from San and slowly kneels on the edge of the bed, reaching for you.

You say nothing, only whining and kicking his hand away. So he turns his attention back to the younger members. "What happened?" He wants to scream at them, really. How could they make his Baby cry when they know everything he went through and continues to go through to have you as his own? But that would only make you more upset. You don't like when he raises his voice, so he keeps it calm. "Is she hurt?"

"Hyung... We really didn't mean to, we tried to-" Mingi is almost in tears, he truly feels for you. But it's been months. If he could have helped he'd of found a way by now. But they need Seonghwa. And some of the members wouldn't even dream of turning him in- even after what he's done. For selfish reasons maybe. But it doesn't matter why or why not. You've been stuck in their apartments for half a year. They'd thought all of your deficiency had passed. That they could pretend it was okay.

"What happened, Baby?" He turns back to you, gently touching your knee.

That little touch seems to make you snap. Screaming obscenities in his face as you go on and on about how you are not, in fact, his baby. You aren't his at all. You want to go home. You don't love him. You don't like San. You don't like Mingi. You don't like any of the members, actually. You don't like living here. You wish you'd never even met him.

All three of them watch aghast, jaws dropped as you yell insult after insult at them. Hot in the face and tears streaming down like a waterfall so harshly that they wet the collar of your baby blue dress and pool as a drop on your chin. You grab the little plushie that Jongho made with you and hurl it at Seonghwas face, hitting him on the nose.

He watches it fall to the floor and his eyes don't seem to move after that. He's forced to listen as you insult his character directly now. He's a insane person. He's a pervert. He's sick in the head. He's annoyingly overbearing. You loathe his guts. You wouldn't spit on him if he were on fire. You'd shoot him twice if you were in a room with him and a hungry tiger with only two bullets. You loathe his entire being. You aren't his Baby. You aren't even his girlfriend. He's delusional.

The words ring around his head hauntingly. You can't possibly mean those things. He takes care of you so well. He gives you the world and all he asks for in return is your love. And he's gotten it. At least he thought he had. He woke up with you by his side and went back to bed the same way. You gave him kisses on the cheek. You let him play with all of your favorite toys that no one else can touch. You let him bathe you and dress you. You let him do everything.

"Do you hear me?" You scream, throwing his neatly fluffed pillow at his already lowered head. "I hate you!"

The world stops in that moment, the millisecond that word slips from your mouth.

    It's silent in the room. In the apartment. Not only could you hear a pin drop—

    You can hear the single tear fall from Seonghwas eye and collide with the hardwood.

Both of them look at him. You look at him. He looks at the floor. There's a visible shift in his aura. He goes from unreadable to pissed in the blink of an eye. His shoulders tense up and his breathing gets shallow.

He stands up, almost robotically. He picks up his pillow and dusts it off, placing in back on the bed where it belongs. His gaze doesn't even bother to meet yours as you watch him with wide, fearful eyes. He grabs the plushie and sets it down as well. "...Get up. Bend over, Baby."

"Hwa, wait, pl-"

"Before I get the paddle."

He doesn't say anything else, glaring down at you as you move tentatively. After an incident with an unlocked window and some sheets resulting in you being dragged to Hongjoongs room by the ear, you don't even want to see the paddle. You had to sit on their laps or a pillow for two weeks straight, if memory serves you right.

    He doesn't reach to move you faster. He stands at the edge of the bed, deadly silent. He only intervenes when you look to Mingi and San beggingly. "You're not allowed to look at them anymore."

That was a rule when you first arrived. You only got that privilege a few weeks ago. You figured it was probably to make you feel distance to the fact that these were people, who could potentially help you leave him, and not just disembodied voices and lower bodies. A way to make you feel even more lonely. Even when they were so close that you could here their breathing.

Like now, Mingi lets out a few small sniffles here and there. Sans breaths sounds anxious. Like if he moves an inch that he will be next on his Hyungs list.

As you bend your body over the edge, they avert their eyes. They may be complacent with Seonghwas actions, but they will never cross that line. They, all seven of the younger members, promised it. Never touch you. Never take advantage of you. Never directly help Seonghwa control you in any way. In fact, most of them decided it would be best to help you however possible, without ruining all of their lives in the process. Getting you small gifts that Seonghwa pre-approved. Stealing you away to the other dorms for a movie night. Sneaking you an extra sweet or episode of cartoons when you were deep in little-space.

But there was nothing they could do when Seonghwa told you to do something. To go to bed early. To let him wash your hair. To give him a kiss. To suck on his thumb. To bend over.

So they could only look away with heavy hearts as he flips up your skirt and rips -quite literally- your underwear away. The sound makes Mingi cringe, your crying pleas for him make him want to disappear forever. "Ming, please, don't let him! I'm sor-"

Seonghwa doesn't even start easy on you, he smacks your bottom harshly, over and over again until your cheek is sore and aching all the way through to your hip. And then, for the briefest moment, you all think it's over when the loud echo of the smacks finally ceases. But that was only him moving to get a better angle on your other side.

    You cry loudly, and the sound officially makes Mingi cry. He lowers his head and turns his body away completely to try and distance himself from the abuse. San gently takes ahold of his pink in his own. It does little to comfort either of them, but it reminds them both of the pact that they made.

     All of their pinkies interlocked, a promise that they would do their best for their obviously challenged Hyung.

        Both of your cheeks bruising and hot to the touch, Seonghwa finally backs up. He moves his knees from their place on either side of you and lets you crumble to the floor in a pile of sobs. He stops briefly to pull your skirt over you half-hazardly before leaving you completely alone as you blubber into your arms.

     His palm is red, as angry as he was. He takes a deep breath as he takes a pump of lotion, rubbing it into his hands as he turns to the other men.

      "Tell me what happened."

    Mingi wipes his face roughly, straightening up as San speaks lowly, "we turned on the TV. We were going to watch a movie, but... but she saw it on the news before we could even change it."

    "What did she see?"

   "Her missing persons photo..."

✿

The door was locked behind them and there was no noise in the apartment. If you hadn't known better, you'd say they all left. But Seonghwa refused to ever leave you alone. Even when all of the members were busy. You either went with them or had a staff member watching you, one who'd coincidentally received a raise moments before.

You stayed right there on the floor for the longest time, sobbing and snotting all over the floor as you tried to calm yourself.

Oh, you really outdid yourself this time.

Even at his angriest, Seonghwa never left your side when there was a tear in your eye.

You knew he had no tolerance for that word. Hate. Ironically, you could say he hated it. Especially when it came out of your lips. You once said you hated the show he put on. He gave you a fourty minute lecture and three smacks to the behind.

And you just aimed it right at him. You meant to make him angry. And you succeeded.

Now, into the night, when he still hasn't returned, you start to wonder wether you snapped his last string of humanity. If he hated you just as much as you claimed you hated him. If he's out in the kitchen planning how to get rid of you.

Your body aches as you sit up, screaming at you as you crawl into the small pink tent in the corner of the room. It's placed on top of soft play mats and filled with baby-ish things that he insisted you needed every time he saw them. The softest blankets. The cutesy, most hug-able plushies. A small box of your favorite pacifiers and toys.

You untie the ribbon keeping the sheer fabric open and let it drape closed, as if it will shield you. Perhaps, in your fragile mind, it will. He never comes in here, only ever reaches in to grab the blankets to wash every other week.

You let yourself flop onto your side into the pile and find yourself sobbing all over again. Maybe, just maybe, in a fucked up, delusional way... Seonghwa does care for you. Maybe, just maybe, in his mind, he does all of these things because he believes it best for you.

You can still see Seonghwa in his room when he's not there. Maybe that's why you hate being cooped up in here. Always begging members to let you hang out in their rooms instead.

It's so neat. Even after the chaos of earlier. So color coordinated. Grey and white and warm lights.

You're the only exception. Toys and clothes and books strewn about in your little corner, just out of sight of his cam-corder.

   Maybe that's why you get so mad when you slip out of the little space he's built for you. You know you don't fit into his life seamlessly. You know the truth of your situation. So you may as well start making the best of it.

    With a groan of effort, you sit back up.

✿

   It's well past midnight when he turns the lock on the outside of his door. Which also means its well past your bedtime. You've become so well accustomed to it over your time together, he figures you've probably fallen asleep.  

       And he's right. He immediately spots you on his side do the bed, holding his pillow tight to your chest with your swollen eyes closed.

    A pant of regret hits him right where it hurts as he realizes just how much he made you cry. How much he made you hurt. His anger got the best of him, and it hurts his heart that deep down, he knows it won't be the last time.

     He's done it to everyone. His family. His members. Himself...

    His darkest thoughts reach out in the corners of his mind, saying that his Baby is better of without him. But he is quick to slap them away as he tip toes into the room.

    Somethings off, somethings different. Everything is in place.

    All of your toys and coloring books and short stories. All of your pacifiers and stuffed animals. They're on the shelf exactly how he puts them during his Sunday reset cleanings. All of your favorites are on the wall, your side of the bed. The multitude of blankets and throw pillows in your tent are folded and organized neatly. Your tears and snot have been wiped up. Your ripped panties in the bin.

    "Oh, my Baby," he whispers, immediately crawling into bed behind you and holding your back close to his chest, careful to avoid your bottom. He doesn't even want to fathom what he did to you... "My Baby..."

      He can't help but cry, though he tries to do so silently. He wants you to rest, you need it. But the smallest movement of the bed wakes you in your fragile state.

    When you stir, he expects you to crawl away. But you don't. Instead, you roll over to face him and shimmy into his arms. "Hey, sweet girl," he coos hoarsely.

     You were right, earlier. You weren't left alone in the apartment. San was sitting in the living room comforting Mingi as Seonghwa stormed off and went upstairs to Hongjoong. While they sat in silence, he screamed and screamed and screamed until he couldn't breathe.

     Eventually, Hongjoong and Yunho got him to calm down, and they talked and talked and talked. Yunho suggested, lightly, that you should stay the night with them. And then Seonghwa screamed some more.

     In all this time, your nighttime routine had never been interrupted. He had a very specific way the two of you did things before bed and he would have it no other way. In all this time, he's never let you out of his arms as he slept. Even that first night, you kicked and screamed and punched until you passed out. But you did so in his arms.

    "Mommy." It's a simple acknowledgment, but it calms him ever so slightly. He takes pride in that name. And it makes him happy you can still call him that after what he's done to you.

     "Are you okay, Baby?" He knows that the answer is no. But he'll give you the opportunity to speak for yourself. To tell him how to help.

     "Hurts," you sniffle as you press your face into his chest, " 'm hungry..."

     "Come on, Sweetpea, I'll take care of you."

    You koala hug onto him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he stands.

    And the nighttime routine starts now, a pattern of familiarity to calm both of your shot nerves.

    He gently sets you in your seat at the table, but not before pacing down a pillow he grabbed while passing the couch. It still burns even with the soft cushioning below you.

You eat in silence. Usually you would speak about your days, and the next one's plans. But there doesn't seem to be any words that either of you can find at the moment.

He rinses the dishes before picking you back up. No matter how many times you insist you can walk- he insists right back that his Baby must be carried. You pass Mingi on the way to the bathroom, and he gives you a small wave, his eyes bloodshot and his posture slumped. But he can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips as you wave back over Seonghwas shoulder.

The pillow goes down on the counter before you, and he starts your meticulous skin care. Your face wash, then his. Your toner, then his. Moisturizer, eye cream, spot treatment, the list goes on until your both brushing your teeth.

You will admit Seonghwa takes exceptionally good care of not only himself, but you as well.

He likes to massage your face after all is said and done. He says it's good for blood flow, which is true. But he does it for a few simpler reasons.

Your face in his hands. And a chance to admire you at the end of the day.

No matter how rough of a day it was. He could always count on this.

He cups your cheeks as he stands between your legs, massaging them gently. "My Baby." He whispers. So quiet you actually miss it. You're too busy melting into his affection. "You're my Baby." He speaks, however lowly.

"Mhm," you moan quietly, blinking up at him, not knowing what exactly he's meaning.

"Say it to me," he says. He pleads. His forehead rests on yours. Eyes growing wet as he uses your eyes as a window into your soul. "Please."

"I'm your baby," you whisper just as gently as he. Nodding against his head lightly. "I'm your baby, Mommy."

He nearly collapses as his shoulders finally relax. His mind flooding with happiness as he hears those words. You're all he's ever wanted. You're all he feels he truly has.

He knew it since the moment he saw you. So delicate, so beautiful and kind. He was overcome with an urge that he can only describe as a mix of pure love and anxiety. He loves you so deeply, how can he ever rest if he doesn't know for certain that your safe and taken care of? So he took matters into his own hands.

He's never felt it before. He knows he'll never feel it again. He will never. Never. Love someone as much as you. As much as his Baby.

You reach up and wipe his tears gently, the tiniest of smiles playing at your lips, "you gonna wash away all the stuff you jus' put on."

He can't help the chuckle that leaves him, leaning into your touch as it leaves a tingle on his skin, "you're right, Baby."

He gently, oh so gently, places a kiss on your lips before your routine resumes.

He leaves you to do your business as he goes to the living room and gathers your pajamas, and when he comes back he finds you all done, rubbing your bottom with a pout. "Oh, Baby, I'm so sorry! I forgot, it must have hurt on the toilet," a pout of his own forms as he crouches and rummages through the cabinet.

"Yeahm," you whine, watching him closely as he grabs a tube.

"Bend over, Baby." That simply sentence almost has you spiraling again before he reaches and rubs your head ever so gently. "It's okay, it's okay. It's numbing cream. Let Mommy put on you and it'll feel better, promise."

You hesitantly bend over the counter slightly, and are relieved to find he's telling the truth. He's barely touching your behind enough spread the cream, his touch is so light. But he manages to apply the treatment without causing you any more harm.

You know that this will be part of your nightly routine again when he sets the tube down with the rest of his products. It mocks you as you look at it. Knowing you'll have to hear those words over and over again until you're healed.

He helps you rid your dress and redresses you in one of his t-shirts before changing into his own pajamas.

As he carries you back to bed, you speak up while fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, "Mommy?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"Can sleep in my tent tonigh'?"

"Oh, Baby, you know I have to hold you to fall asleep. Baby can have a nap in there tomorrow, how about that?"

"No, Mommy too," you look to him with a pout as he closes the bedroom door behind you, "Mommy in the tent." You point to it as if he doesn't know what tent you're referring to, and it makes him laugh how adorable you are when you're so deep in little-space.

"Okay, Baby," he sets you down first and lets you crawl in, watching you with stars in his eyes as you curl up under the blankets and move to make room for him.

His feet poke out of the side even as he's curled spooning you, and he knows the sight is probably ridiculous. But it's very possibly the coziest he's been with you. The tent and the plushies inside of it smell like you. All of the soft blankets have accumulated into a weighted blanket of sorts and keeps you both warm in the cold October air. His chest pressed to your back and your numbed bottom snuggling back into his hips. Your soft, calm breaths luring him into a state of tranquility. He stays just like that, for a long time, it feels like. It almost feels like he's meditating. His soul being cleansed. He can see why you like it here-

Oh. Oh, he's really in here.

It dawns on him as he looks up. What is usually a white ceiling is a pink fabric just a few inches away from his face.

You invited him in.

Ever since he set it up three months ago, you made a strict 'BABY ONLY' policy. And you stuck to that. Not even Jongho, who was admittedly your favorite of his members, was allowed in. They were all confined to the play mat just outside.

But not anymore.

He thought after the pain he had caused, after the outside world had reminded you what he'd done, that your progress would be set back. That he'd back back to square one with a brat. But, you went ahead and proved him opposite.

You proved him that you are and will continue to be,

His Baby.

✿

[fortemelody]

AHHHSHFBTKFNTLFKGNFMDM SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER IM LOOSING MY SHIT RN

here’s some things i noticed/wondered/loved:

- i think in that scene where tom is on the ground yelling for sonic, he is wearing a special forces suit. maybe he upgraded from cop to working with gun?? if so i think that’s a really good use of his character actually! he wanted to save a life and raise a family above all else yes, but he still got his previous dream of doing more serious cop work!

- shadow just. has a big ass portal?? like holy shit he’s just suckin the life outta earth and ig that’s one way to do it (or maybe it’s just a ring and i’m stupid idek)

- i’m sure we’ll learn more about this in the actual movie so i’m not too worried, but i’m super confused at the very beginning scene. apparently sonic didn’t change his heart…but he did tho? like he learned what being a true hero meant in the last movie. tbh i feel like that’s enough but hey i’m not against more character development for our boy so!! (also that bit where he’s like “in my lungs” was actually really funny to me, ben schwartz’ awesome delivery caught me off guard)

- GERALD ROBOTNIK ALIVE HUUUUH?! tbh i would’ve preferred if maria was alive, i feel like that would be an interesting dynamic. but also ig that would make it harder for shadow to learn anything so i totally get it. anyways i’m just glad they’re putting a little twist on the story, it keeps it interesting. they already sorta did that with the knuckles and iblis thing actually! (even if that show sucked ass and although that probably wasn’t intentional 😭)

- even tho bro only got like… 3 lines, i really think keanu fits shadow. he’s very soft spoken in comparison to the rest of the case which feels nice. also he’s like the “really bad” guy so ofc he’s not gonna be yappin on and on like sonic or robotnik and he’s gonna take things uber seriously.

- where was my girl maddie :( i think she was only in like a singular frame. hope shes in the movie a somewhat significant amount. i heart pretzel lady!! could live without wade tho like pls im so sick of his bowling soap opera 💀

- FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK!!! after fucking 3 movies they finally fulfilled jim carrey’s wishes!! let the man get creative like please i love jim carrey sm aughdfhfnfmschxj. also love how we got so much stobonik content within that short scene like jesus come get y’all’s food

- shadow at one point says something along the lines of “when we’re done, there won’t be anything left.” maybe i’m reading WAY to into this but what does the “we’re” part mean?? is he working with others? i feel like this is either gonna be team dark or some new movie exclusive character(s). edit: someone made a valid point that he’s actually probably referring to gerald (look at reblogs!)

-CHAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lowkey wonder if the room therye in is like an amusement park or somethin like that

- no sign of amy :( but honestly my prediction now is that she’s gonna be the post credit scene teaser cus they always do a new character reveal there. first tails, then shadow. and honestly now i think it might be better that way so shadow can have a chance to breathe and show his story in full. i’m pretty sure i vaguely remember colleen (tails’ VA) being kinda mysterious about amy’s appearance when asked, and also the fact that it was confirmed that this isn’t the end of the movie franchise/universe. but ig we’ll just have to wait and see!

so sorry i stated this yesterday morning to give my initial thoughts but then got busy and completely forgot to post/finish it. and today i started (and am close to finishing) a very long edit of the trailer, so be on the look out for that too!

genuinely i feel like this movie is gonna somehow be even more record breaking than any of the previous movies and i am so here for the hype 🙏

[mymindhesmine]

His Favroite Star, The Sun

💌 pairing: Zayne X Reader X Sylus (Love Triangle)

💌author's note:

Hello! Thank you for taking the time to read this, this is my first post here on tumblr! Before starting the post please read this! This is a fanfic in an AU from the Love and Deep Space storyline. Details such as back stories, present events and others will differ from the games story. Please keep that in mind that this fic is not going to follow the plot of the game exactly. Some events will live up and others won't.

Also this js my fic and my writing, if you don’t like how the characters are written or the plot, feel free to exit.

And in this fic, it is a love triangle and reader is not MC from the game. in this fic, reader is a famous idol, as well as Sylus (Sylus is still the leader of Onychinus but in this fic the leader is faceless and unknown and goes by an alias), Zayne however is still a world renowned and highly recognizable cardiac surgeon/ doctor.

As well as this fic will have a music element where I will state the song of the chapter/section. Feel free to listen if you want to. Lyrics will be in italics.

🎼song: 'I Wanna Be Yours' by Arctic Monkeys

🍒tags: mention of previous relationship (Sylus X Reader), F! Reader

Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoy!

🎀 synopsis: It has been your dream since you were a little girl that you would be a star, an idol, to let the whole world know who you were. But if the world knows who you are, they know everything about you from your work, to what you do personally and your relationships including past and present. The past of being with another famous solo artist Sylus, who is now your ex with the public knowing of the messy relationship and breakup from it. The present of being with a world-renowned cardiac surgeon Zayne. The limelight seems to shine too bright sometimes, and along with it following you, so does your past. Will it catch up to the present?

"Y/N! Please face this way! Smile!"

"Y/N! Do you have a moment for a quick interview?"

"Y/N, say hello to all your fans watching at home!”

Between all the yelling and bright lights flashing in your face, all you could do was smile.

Smile and pose, hands placed on your hips, turning slightly when you deaned it appropriate. Standing for a bit before walking down the carpet further and repeating the steps.

Smile, turn, walk, repeat.

That was until a large camera was pushed in front of you, a woman wearing a long floor length champagne colored gown with a slicked back bun approached with a microphone in her hand and a wide smile on her lips.

"Y/N! It is so lovely to see you tonight at the Golden Star Music Awards! How are you this evening?" The woman said, pointing the large microphone towards you.

"Hi! Good evening! I'm doing amazing, I’m so excited." You greeted to the woman, smiling brightly.

"You look absolutely gorgeous tonight, so beautiful as always." She complimented.

"Thank you, you look so beautiful as well." You complimented.

"What a sweetheart you are! I heard you were nominated for an award at tonight's show, do you think the odds are in your favor?"

"I have no idea, if I did win that would be so amazing but even it I didn't I applaud whoever does. Everyone deserves recognition on a night like this."

"Are you excited for any of the guest performances?"

"I am! I can't wait to see what is in store. I wish them all good luck, I know everyone will do amazing!"

"How sweet! And I see you came alone tonight, are you attending with friends or a plus one?"

"Actually my-"

Before you could finish your answer you felt a hand gently place itself on the small of your back, pulling you closer to a figure slowly. Making you tense up and then look up to see who it was.

"You made it, I didn't even know you were already here." You said smiling, as soon as you saw those familiar and warm green eyes you felt yourself relax.

"I wrapped things up earlier than expected, I just decided to find you instead of waiting inside." A soft voice said, as you felt the hand move from the small of your back to your waist.

"Oh my! Is this your famous doctor boyfriend I've been hearing so much about? two make such a cute couple!" The woman complimented, chuckling as you smile and nodded.

"Yes, he's-“

"Seriously, I think you two are perfect for one another. Obviously better than the last one right?" The woman said, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she chuckled and shoved the microphone closer to you.

"I-I um, I don’t-" You stutter to say, your hand gripping tightly at the skirt of your dress.

"I heard he's also attending tonight's show, do you think he'll…"

'It's one of those gossip reporters wanting to get more details in my life to sell an article or something.' You thought to yourself as you drowned out the rest of her conversation, you could feel you face growing hot and your hands becoming clammy with embarrassment.

"We should be heading inside and finding our seats soon, the show will be starting soon." You heard his voice respond rather strictly and coldly, making you look to him.

"I understand totally, I just wanted to ask since so many people have been curious.it was nice to meet you-"

"Let’s go before the show starts without us, it was nice meeting you as well." He said, taking your free hand in his own and walking off with you.

"Bye Y/N! Enjoy the show, hope to catch you after-" The woman said, but you had already drowned her out as your attention was faced to his broad back as he guided you down the carpet and to the entrance of the venue.

"Are you all right?" He questioned, his voice ringing with concern and worry as he watered your features.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." You managed to stutter out, not wanting to cause commotion with so many people around still.

"Some people just don't know how to respect others, regardless of status or attention. She shouldn't have asked such inappropriate questions." He stated, as you nodded in agreement and exhaling a long breath.

"Look at me." You heard him say softly, making you look up to meet his warm green eyes.

"If you don't want to stay longer or don't feel comfortable, we can leave. You tell me."He said softy, as you shook you head.

"I think I’m okay, thank you." You said, as he eyed you a bit.

"Even if you feel fine now, you tell me if anything changes. All right?" He said, and you nodded.

"I will. Thank you Zayne.”

You got inside the venue with no issues and were guided to your table by a staff member. Zayne had pulled out your chair, and you sat down as you thanked him. He sat down next to you as the staff around served water glasses to the both of you.

"Are you looking forward to the show?" He asked, as you sipped at your glass.

"I'm excited to see the performances, but I'm more nervous for the awards." You admitted.

"You were nominated for a few of the categories, no?" Zayne asked, as you nodded.

"Mhm, that's why I'm a bit nervous. I didn't really prepare before hand. It’s just a little nerve wrecking not knowing." You admitted, and he nodded understanding.

"But maybe I won't win, and that's okay too! I just hope if they do that they're more prepared than me." You chuckled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. As the show is about to start." A loud voice boomed through the venue and the other guests started bustling to their tables.

As the noise died down, and the lights on the stage shone brightly on the host you and Zayne made small banter.

"Welcome to this years Golden Star Music Award Show, I will your honest for the evening. Who is ready to win some awards and watch some amazing performances?!" The host announced, making the other guests cheer in response.

The show went on as typical from what you expect, guest artists performing their latest and most popular hits with dancers and over the top visuals, awards being handed out with heart filled speeches and tears, all with you and Zayne bantering and basking in each others presence without a care in the world.

"Our next performance is from an artist who we all love for his sultry sound and unforgettable voice. Appealing to the masses with his dark image so far that his latest album sold tens of thousands of copies within the first week, made it number one on the charts and is nominated for awards in multiple categories at tonight's show. Please give a warm and inviting welcome to Sylus!"

The audience cheered loudly as the spotlight shifted to the center of the stage, you could see Zayne shift from your side slightly and you turned to him and smiled before looking back to the stage.

The lights surrounding the venue darkened, as solem tempo music started playing. You recognized the song all too well, it was on the radio on repeat so much and you did like it.

You saw the figure on stage, a band behind him as the spotlight shone bright and cameras panning across and showing his face on large screens to the audience who weren’t close enough to the stage. You had to admit he did have a nice voice, you’ve heard his previous work in the past and you did like it.

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner

Breathing in your dust

I wanna be your Ford Cortina

I will never rust

You could see people slowly swaying in their seats, mouthing to the lyrics. You felt a soft brush against your hand as you looked to see Zayne interlacing his fingers with yours. It made you blush slightly at the small physical contact, and you quickly looked back to the performance.

If you like your coffee hot

Let me be your coffee pot

You call the shots babe

I just wanna be yours

A spotlight that was hung over the audience shown, carefully dancing across the guests until it slowed and rested its attention on you and your seat. You flinched slightly at the brightness, making you look away and resting your sight on one of the large screens. Maybe it was the camera angle on the stage but with how it was positioned, it was like he was staring straight at you.

Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought

Maybe I just wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

You looked back at Zayne and although he was looking disinterested you could see how white his knuckles in his free hand look, balled into a fist. You carefully ran your thumb over his knuckles in your hand, seeing his tightened fist relax and his stance less tense. He looked to you and you gave him a soft reassuring smile.

You both knew what was going on.

He was playing games.

The show went on like clockwork, awards and performances continued and you waited with bated breath for the next awards announced.

"Now for the award for 'Best New Rising Star, with several amazing nominees. The winner for last years award will be announcing the winner." The host said, as the audience clapped.

"Please welcome back Sylus to the stage!" The host exclaimed, as more cheering and clapping ensued.

You could see the familiar figure nod to the host, taking the microphone they held along with the award. Once done they turned to face the audience at the stage.

"It is my honor to be able to give this award to the nominee who most certainly deserves it. "The winner of this year’s Best New Rising Star Award is…" He started, you bit your lip with anticipation.

The silence was slowly killing you, you just wanted this done and over with. You could feel your grasp in Zayne"s hand tighten and you tried to not chew your lip off.

"Y/N L/N." He said slowly, as the audience started clapping and cheering.

You face froze in shock for a moment, as you looked to Zayne who stood up from his seat and guided you to stand. You smiled and hugged him tightly, feeling tears threatening to spill as he whispered in your embrace.

“Congratulations." He said, as you let go of him reluctantly.

You wanted him to come to the stage with you but you knew it wasn’t the best option for now, instead one of the guests would help you up to the steps as you made your way up before getting on the stage alone.

As on cue, one or the guests who was often seen accompanying winners onto the stage held their arm out for you to take and you did so. Hearing cheers and whistling as you smiled and waved to the crowd, the cameras panning and following you as you made your way to the steps of the stage.

You thanked the kind guest before adjusting your dress and walking across the stage, hugging the host before they walked off to the far side of the stage.

Leaving you alone with all eyes on you, with Sylus.

"When I met Y/N, it was as if it was never meant to happen. Just a coincidental meeting that sooner became the start of a beautiful connection, as if faith knew it was destiny for us to meet. Only for years later I would be the one on this stage presenting her this award for the world to see." He started the speech, the crowd cheering and clapping as you did as well.

"From the first moment we met I knew I was in the presence the most talented person I would get the pleasure to know. When it comes to music, she has dominated the industry with hit pieces without failure. When it comes to personality she has always demonstrated kindness from the bottom of her heart. And when it comes to determination and work ethic, her work is never underestimated or undermined."

"Even with all these awards, music, recognition and status of being an artist, what counts is the person who put their heart into what they value. She succeeds it by not changing or letting herself be pressured into doing so. She has been able to accomplish so much while not letting the pressure change her into something she isn’t. Even if the times has changed along with many others things, she is still the same girl I met all those years ago."

"She is someone I respected highly, whom I hold so much pride and admiration to. Who I’m proud to say I know, proud to say I’ve looked up to and proud to say I love with my chest and won’t ever stop loving."

You felt your chest tighten, your hands become clammy as the crowd only got louder at the statement.

"I’m proud to present this award to her as she deserves it more than anyone in this world, ladies and gentlemen the winner of the Best Rising Star Award, Y/N." Sylus finished, turning to you as the crowd continued to cheer and all you could do was stand in shock.

Standing there as if caught in the act, surprise and fear etched into your face as everyone was looking at you. You could see the edge of a smirk resting on his lips from your peripheral vision, as you slowly got over the anger and nerves. Approaching him with your hands out, a tight smile on your face as you accepted the trophy from him.

His hand lingered as you grasped the award, before letting it go slowly and you approached the microphone on the stand.

"I want to thank everyone here tonight for the opportunity of receiving this award, this is such an honor to be nominated and win this so thank you again." You started, as the crowd cheered and you could see him sits, smirking from your side.

"Thank you to everyone who has even given me the chance to make this dream come true. From my team to my family, writers, producers, friends, colleagues, and the people closest to me that I love and hold dear to me thank you for all the support and love you have shown me. I hope to keep amazing everyone with all my work and hope you can see me continue to grow not only as an artist but as a person too. Thank you again, I love you all." You finished, waving as you held the award up again before quickly rushing to the stairs you came from.

You could hear footsteps follow you and already knowing who it was, holding onto the railing to make sure you didn’t fall. You looked to see Zayne at the bottom of the staircase waiting for you and you smiled in relief.

"Here, let me-"

"I’ve got it, thank you." You responded quickly, holding onto the railing and going down a few steps before reaching out to the outstretched hand before you.

Taking Zayne's hand once in reach and having him help you down to the ground level, clutching the award. Once you were stable, you looked at him and with the look that he gave you in return you could tell he wasn’t happy but more concerned than anything.

"I wanna go home."

💌 author's note:

Hello! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, if you liked it please let me know! I hope to be posting soon!

[pocketgalaxies]

So, having finished the episode, thoughts???

ugh. SO GOOD. everything i was hoping for and more!! marisha was so so fucking incredible and stunning obviously. and matt did such a great job (as he always does) portraying a troubling parental figure, with all of their complicated love and selfishness and failures

the thing is. having an emotionally unavailable parent is such a common struggle, even if it takes on wildly different shapes and sizes for each person, and there are parts of the ep that i feel tied to in vague or inexplicable ways too. which makes my feelings harder to put into words and actually analyze in this moment lmfao

but ofc marisha did so many things that just made me ache. "that was a good fucking idea to handle a situation with a daughter that was clearly just wanting your fucking attention" and "i thought a dad was supposed to stay by their kid when they're having a fucking hard time" say SO MUCH about what beau's struggle was always rooted in. a girl who just wanted her parents to look at her and actually see her for once in their fucking lives, and making them proud was nothing but a guilty pleasure pipe dream. little eye rolls and head shakes when they both fall back into their shitty clueless habits because they will never fucking get it, even when she shows up at their doorstep drenched in rain and spits it in their faces. and "maybe i'm the one that's sent to humble you." because if i'm to be defined by the words of some random woman in the woods and not by my actions or my words or my efforts, then maybe they will also explain why you seem incapable of loving me.

other marisha things that hurt me include: trying not to listen when they were at the evening nip and nott and cad are telling jester "of course your dad loves you – what's there not to love?" still making sure to yell "mom! i'm going, mom." before leaving so she doesn't leave without saying bye. the waterworks as soon as TJ hugged her. OBVIOUSLY "well some things never change, do they, dad?" so many more. ugh marisha is so fucking good.

anyway at the end of the day, it honestly doesn't really matter how much your parents love you if they never fucking do anything about it. and it was neat to see m9 recognize that these people do love their daughter and perhaps they can do better by her in the future, but also recognize that their actions have made beau feel almost irreparably unlovable in her own home. and really interesting to see jester say "it's not worth it to carry this poison in you" while yasha says "maybe it's worth it to destroy this place, if it'll show you what you destroyed to get it." such an interesting contrast in reactions that says so much about these two characters too! WHAT A FUCKING GOOD EPISODEEEEEEE.

[jarofstyles]

Beauty and the Beast - Nightshade

The moment you've been waiting for, the answers are here :) sorry this took a literal year (and then some)

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive content!

wc: 6.3k

warnings: not many warnings in this one, just a reference to character's death

---------------------------------

This wasn’t his plan.

Harry never wanted her to see this room. At least, not yet. This was… an escape from his past. One he was slowly starting to try and move on from now that he and his love had finally expressed emotions and been able to give each other the proper reactions… but no.

He had never forbidden her from it, so he couldn’t really be angry. It did flare up in him, mainly because he was scared. Terrified of these memories and his past making her want to leave and forget him because he had held on to it for so long, but nothing was making sense lately. Not a single thing.

The only thing that made sense was how good it felt to hold her. Kiss her. Fuck her. She was what he wanted, and his head had never felt more clear in terms of what he wanted.

Her.

Finding her in the room, shaking like a leaf, he was terrified that she was going to leave. She wasn’t as sneaky as she would like to believe.

He had arrived earlier than he’d planned and as if he had a 7th sense, he heard her leave the bed. The moment she opened this door, however, he sprinted up the stairs.

It seemed… off. To see her in this room. Like it was a long time coming and yet, still a kick in the face. It obviously affected her, and he wasn’t sure how.

“My love?” He approached cautiously, not sure how to handle this fully. Did he touch her? Knock her out of it with his words? Why was she staring into the mirror in such a daze? And why was she shaking? “Beloved… what is wrong?” The rasp of his voice echoed in the large room.

“Do you know her?” Y/N asked, her voice calm despite how her blood ran cold with fear. She was in a daze and everything felt slow. It almost didn’t feel real.

Her eyes were still locked on the figure in the mirror, analyzing each feature as if her life depended on it. Millions of thoughts rushed through her head, meadows and laughter, images of sharing a loaf of fresh bread in secret, swimming in lakes… her focus blurred for a moment, thoughts became memories and her head snapped from the mirror to look at him.

“She…” his voice paused as he tried to word it the right way. She wasn’t yelling yet, which was a decent sign but he also knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

He completely would understand her anger at him for having a room full of a woman that wasn’t her, but he was going to take it down. Move on, because he had her… it just happened so quickly. He had hundreds of years to dwell on the past and only a few months in the future.

“She was why I had believed… that I was going to die.” He cleared his throat. “That was who I believed to be my beloved… and she was taken from me, years ago. I loved her very much. Usually, you die when your beloved does.” The voice in his throat felt rough, still not an easy topic to approach. Let alone to his new lover.

“So I thought… I was slowly losing it. And we lose ourselves to madness eventually, when our beloved are killed. However… all of the madness seems to be gone for me.” He was still confused on how that happened. He could have sworn that she was. But seeing Y/N standing in front of him now… he wasn’t sure at all.

The connection they had felt incredible.

“I’m sorry I’ve kept the things so long. I know it must be difficult to look at.”

“I’ve been seeing her in my dreams for months, Harry…” Y/N spoke, still too startled to express any emotion. “She practically lives in my brain.” She shook her head.

It was an odd feeling. Nothing Y/N could ever explain in words. He had loved her… truly enough to think she was the one. This woman who had been living in the shadows of her mind for months.

It seemed like she was the one going insane, not Harry.

“I’ve seen her at least once every week since I moved here… I feel like she has my eyes— don’t you think?” She asked timidly, swallowing the dryness in her throat to try and make sense of this. “Do you see her in me? Is that how I got here?”

Harry felt his already cold body freeze over.

Months?

“And you haven’t… you haven’t been in here at all?” He questioned wearily. When she shook her head, he swallowed.

Christ.

The vampire was positive there were no other hints of her around the house. This room was the one he came in when he wanted to think about her. It was how he kept sane for a good while. But the idea that she had constantly been seeing her… it startled him.

“I… I never really thought about comparing you to her.” The cool hands cupped her warm face, taking a look. Though, now looking at her… there were some uncanny similarities. The eyes. The lips. He knew them.. for far longer than he had known Y/N. “You are different. In most ways. I never thought of her in you, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re.. a very different person but you share some things. Some phrases… mannerisms. But I never put you both in a mirror.”

He liked her all on his own.

“I don’t know how this is possible.” He tilted her head up and stroked her heated cheek with his thumb, trying to wrack his mind over how it could happen. “Is she…  what happens in your dreams, love?” His voice softens immensely, trying to coax out more of her thoughts.

“She doesn’t hurt me or scare me,” Y/N spoke, lips more in a pout now that he was holding her face. “She just… she knows something I don’t and she’s trying to tell me,” Y/N explained and closed her eyes. She needed to ground herself.

Knowing Harry had never compared them brought her a lot of peace. That still didn’t change the fact that it felt like looking into a mirror.

“You spent lots of time with her outside…” Y/N spoke quietly, humming with her eyes still closed. “You would pick her flowers… you swam… she really loved you.”

If it was possible, he knew his heart would stop.

“How do you know that?” He asked, considering just how she knew his antics. How she was aware of the fact that they’d pick flowers and swim and kiss in the sunlight. When he would risk it all to be outside with her because the sunshine made her happy and warm.

“She’s trying to talk to you?” And she wasn’t trying to rip Y/N to pieces? That was unusual for her. Possessiveness was a main personality trait for her and he didn’t mind it at all, but he was curious as to how the hell she didn’t seem to mind if she was inside of her head.

“What is she trying to say, angel?” He placed his forehead on hers. “Hm? Is she just telling you what we used to do?” That would be incredibly peculiar. How was she even communicating with her at all? And how was a human capable of receiving those sorts of messages?

If he didn’t know better, Harry would have assumed she would read his journals. But he knew where she was at all times, and never had the girl ventured into this room or opened a book that didn’t belong to her.

“You went somewhere earlier…” She decided to skip over his comment, choosing rather to focus on how the hell she was recalling this information. “When I woke up Ida said you’d be out for longer—”

The thoughts in her mind seemed to relax and she was able to open her eyes and look at him again.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Y/N searched his eyes for something to hold on to, she felt like she could give him more answers if he was fully transparent with her.

“No more secrets.”

The man took a breath, closing his eyes this time as he tried to figure out just how to explain this part to her.

“Okay. No more secrets.”

His hand took hers and led her towards the velvet green couch, sitting her down on it and sitting far too close next to her. Clasping her smaller hands in his own, he took a moment to compose himself.

“I went to see if I could find the contact information for a witch. Someone who knows far more about the soul-bonding process and could explain to me what had happened, why I was feeling the way I was…” he paused, throat drying slightly as he squeezed her hands. “Why I feel the way I do when I thought we only have one chance at love.”

His green eyes met hers, showing that he genuinely was confused but he cared. He cared for her so much, he loved her. It shouldn’t be possible, but Harry knew what he was feeling.

“You know… I thought maybe I was actually dying. And I wanted to spare you from it. But when I woke up, I knew I had to dig for answers. I couldn’t just allow you to suffer along with me as we had gotten attached. So I went to a frequent spot for the… otherworldly.” He chuckled lightly at the words he used. There probably were better ones, but it would make the most sense to her.

“When she died… I felt myself mourn. I was in so much grief and pain and anger... I've never physically hurt that badly before and yet…” He licked his dark pink lower lip, eyes searching hers. Recognizing bits of them. Now that he was thinking about the connection… It was true.

“I never felt the snap. I never felt… like I was going to die. That's what I’ve always been told. For soul bonds to break, for one of us to have died, the other should have felt the severing. And I never did.”

“Did you meet the witch?” Y/N asked as if that was a normal question for a human to ask a vampire. It seemed like for the time being Y/N wasn’t entirely there at the minute.

She tilted her head and waited for his answer, eyes taking in every bit of his appearance. Y/N had a feeling that he knew something that would make sense of the messages in her head. The feelings she was feeling as her own.

“I… Didn’t.” He grumbled, letting his eyes fall again. Another area where he had failed her. Truly, he wanted to be good to her. He wanted to give her the best and he couldn’t even figure out why he had gone crazy.

“I put in an inquiry. They’re busy people and while I may have a lot of pull in this world, they’re the ones with the answers. I was told I’d have someone show up to give me some, but I didn’t want to pour my story out to a witch that wasn’t going to help.”

He let himself relax slightly as she didn’t seem to get angry at him now. She just looked like she wanted answers… answers that were very valid. He knew he had been a bit of a dick for not giving them to her right away. He should have been transparent but… how?

It was difficult, usually, to work humans into this world. It was actually a bit… strange how well adapted she was.

-500 years prior-

The worst day of Harry’s life had started just like any other.

Summer was quickly coming to a close and while he himself didn’t mind the shift to cooler temperatures and shorter days, his beloved seemed to mourn the summer. Celeste believed that there was nothing that would ever compare to the feeling of dunking yourself into the lake on a warm day. She believed that there was nothing that brought her more tranquillity than gazing up at the stars while the warm humid air hugged her skin. Even when bug bites adorned her legs Summer reminded her that she was still human.

“My darling, wake up. We have to go.” The familiar sleepy voice of her lover woke Celeste from her slumber. With a firm yet gentle shake, she allowed her eyes to flutter open and adjust to the darkness of their cottage. “Please, we haven’t much time.”

The sound of footsteps quickly approaching from outside left Harry in a panic, but he couldn’t let her see. And while he felt Celeste was blissfully unaware of the fate that awaited her, the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Celeste never thought her worst nightmare would actually come true. She had spent years protecting her home and the land around it. Her enchantments attracted nothing but positive light and all those who crossed her path were destined to meet her. All the animals knew they were welcome and always rewarded her for her efforts to enrich their earth. Celeste had spent her whole life here in the forest, only venturing into town when she urgently needed something. It wasn’t safe for witches in town, the common folk were terrified of magic and the creatures and spirits that fed off of them, but it was the job of her and her sisters to keep the city safe from any harm in secrecy.

She had met Harry by chance, she remembered the day so vividly. She stumbled upon him on her way home– She remembered the dazed look in his eyes and the blood on his collar. He looked so ashamed, crying against the back wall of the local bakery. Never had Celeste seen a vampire show so much remorse after feeding, but then again she hadn’t seen many vampires with her own eyes, to begin with. The Vampires upheld their deal of peace and ethics, as long as the witches protected them from the hunters.

The very hunters who were now trying to take her love away from her.

They’d been so careful. She knew that the safest place for Harry to be was with her. But it seemed that even her powers weren’t enough to overcome the evil that possessed humankind. The universe would always find its balance somehow, even in the cruelest of ways.

“Harry, they cannot know– I should not follow you, I fear they will question why I am not in my home at this hour should they find I am not here…” Celeste whispered, motioning down towards the tunnel in her cellar. They had talked about this plan before, but Celeste always knew she could never convince him to go on his own. So she never told him that part of the plan.

“My love, I refuse to leave you here alone–” A shout from the outside left his words to die in his throat. Harry shook his head, taking her wrist and pulling her with him without another word. Harry was cautious. Though he was aware that these men were after him and not his beloved, he couldn’t bring himself to trust those who have brought his kind nothing but shame and suffering. The hunters were everything but fair and if they had any reason to believe she was living with a fugitive, he knew she would be as good as dead.

He had dreams of them running away and rebuilding a home elsewhere, somewhere they could be truly safe. There were vampires who lived in the north who had mastered the art of camouflage. Rumors spread like wildfire saying they were mated and bonded, that they lived with humans who let them feed in a mutual exchange. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, but Harry would give up anything if it meant he could have the life he dreamed of with her. He just needed her there with him.

“My love, they shall not bring me any harm. The tunnel, it will bring you to the lake, you know your way from there. I promise I will find you once they see there is nothing for them to find here.” Celeste’s voice was soft as she reached to smooth the worry away from his brow. “Such a worry wort.” She giggled though she knew her fate was much to worry about. There could only be one reason the hunters would be suspicious of her. If her enchantments broke, it meant the fates had decided it was their time. Celeste, however, would never give him up, she knew he would wait for her forever. No, she could and would not let them find him.

Harry’s head turned quickly as he saw an orange glow begin to creep through the windows. He chose to be selfish in the little time he had left, pressing a kiss so full of love and longing that he hoped that it would somehow change her mind. The way her lips melded over his with a hunger she only saved for their most intimate moments, he swore they would be etched in his mind forever. He knew she wouldn’t let up.

“You must find me.” Harry breathed, his words a command as he pressed another desperate kiss to her lips. “My love, you are the only thing worth living for.” He hesitated, not wanting to leave this precious moment in fear that it would be their last.

With each second, he could hear the footsteps growing closer and closer, his eyes memorizing her form till he couldn’t anymore. A final stolen kiss was all he left for her as he disappeared into the cellar and ran like hell.

He shouldn’t have left her there, he knew that now.

In a sick and twisted way, he thanked the gods for sparing him the piercing sounds of her screams as she begged for mercy, for when he returned, the bloodied sight left him feeling hollow. She put up a fight, the way he always knew she would,  but it seemed that the hunters came with no remorse. How could they claim that they were ridding the town of evil when they had done such cruel and horrible things to the purest creature he had ever known?

“It should have been me.” He thought, swallowing down thick tears, but as he looked around he realized that this evil would not have stopped at him.

-end of flashback-

He hadn’t taken the death of Celeste well.

He had avenged her the best he could. Ripped the hearts out of every single person he could trace to her death, letting them die the way he felt every day without her. It felt like he had little to no emotion, feeling only pain when he woke up.

It continued like that for years until he became comfortably numb. Still questioning why and how. Living without her was worse than any death, worse than anything he had ever could have imagined. But there was always this little light that never fully smothered. Her voice in the back of his mind saying she would find him again. His own recurring dreams that he figured were just a comfort to his psyche. The hope.

Once he met Y/N though? It had gone away. Completely. No more dreams. Almost any yearning was gone. He felt like a patch had been placed on the gaping wound and it had made him feel very, very guilty at first until he realized that maybe she would want him to be happy.

Y/N was so familiar. Like a piece of him in her that had stolen his breath when she had walked into the estate. Sure, she resembled Celeste more than some others did but she was her own person. He had fallen for her knowing that.

Y/N’s thoughts were running wild in her mind, attempting to connect the pieces of the story that she herself didn’t know. The longer she looked around the room the calmer came over her body where normally she’d expect rage and sorrow. Another woman adorned his walls, but Harry was only really focusing on her.

“Y/N tell me what you’re thinking of. I wish you would have told me about these dreams sooner, but there isn’t much we can do now except wait for–” Harry’s sentence was cut off by a knock on the door.

“Sir, someone is here to see you–” Ida began her introduction, but the woman behind her seemed to feel right at home.

“Oh goodness!” The woman exclaimed, stopping to take a look around the room. She didn’t look to be that old, but her spirit was far older than Harry and Y/N both. “I had a feeling you’d honor my sister, but with such commitment? I see the fates wanted some entertainment. Bless your no longer beating heart.” She smiled, placing a hand over her heart before approaching the two. “My dear, how are you finding your new body? It’s good to see you again. I’ve been awaiting your call.”

“What?” Y/N blinked at the woman, cocking her head as she tried to figure out why she looked so familiar. How did she know her? Where did she know her from?

Oh god.

This was not the way he wanted it to go- nor did he fully understand what exactly was happening. His brows furrowed, tucking Y/N into his body in slight protection as he stood up straighter, keeping a hand on her. As if she would slip away.

“Harry? What is she talking about?” Her voice peeped behind him, her hand tangled in his shirt. A resounding ache echoed in his chest as he stared at the witch.

Astrid.

Celeste’s sister. One for who Harry harbored a lot of resentment for not warning them. For not protecting his beloved back then. She had been somewhat nonchalant. Telling Harry that Celeste would meet him in another life. Her lack of care had ruined their goodwill, making Harry feel as though she didn’t fucking care that the love of his life - well, past? It confused them- was gone.

“I don’t know, darling.” His grip on her was firm, making Astrid scoff.

“Calm down, Fangs. I’m not going to hurt my sister… though- I have a feeling based on the incredibly confused faces, you haven’t actually figured it all out yet?” She laughed, shaking her head as she tried to peek around Harry. “Should probably listen to messages all the way through- just got excited to see her again. Tell me.” She paused, growling slightly when Harry kept her from view. “What’s your name in this life, sister? What did you choose? Y/N or Violeta?”

Y/N felt her heart drop to her stomach, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat before attempting to speak.

“How did you– Y/N. My name is Y/N.” Y/N looked between Astrid and Harry, waiting for one of them to tell her what on earth was going on. It seemed Harry was hesitant to accept the help of this woman, but she knew her name. “What is going on?” While her heart was beating a million miles a minute, she tried her best to sound strong. She was angry that Harry once again was hiding something from her, he clearly knew this woman and this woman knew him.

“Darling, I feel as though this is something you should take on with your… well since you haven't bonded I’m not sure what he is to you.” Astrid chuckled, “Always cautious you are, Harry. So respectful of my sister, but still haven’t learned to trust now did you?” She smirked seeing the anger flare through Harry’s expression. “No need to get angry at the truth, Harry. You mustn’t lie to the girl any more than you have.”

“Look, if you came here to laugh in our faces, you might as well make your way out.” Y/N felt her jaw clenching. “I’ve been having dreams of this woman since I’ve stepped foot in this home, your sister? You think I’m her?” Y/N asked in a pointed tone, she refused to have any more time wasted.

“I didn’t lie.” He snarled, baring fangs. He didn’t want to make this any more painful or weird than it already was for them! “I wasn’t sure. That is why I called to ask!”

“Blah, blah. Harry, you’re dense. Y/N- I apologize if that’s how it seems. Harry and I have always had our differences since your passing.”

Y/N blinked.

What?

What?!

“I know you are. It’s adding up.” She began softly, lowering her tone. The poor thing didn’t actually know, and Celeste was trying to pop through and this humanity she had been raised with was something that was trying to push it back. “The dreams you’ve been having aren’t dreams. They’re memories.” She sat on the armchair opposite where they were standing. Astrid was overly comfortable and it made Harry irritated, but Y/N could feel a seedling of fondness creep into her tummy.

It felt like she knew her.

“When Celeste died- I saved her soul.” She began, kicking her feet up on the table. “She- aka, you- always had an issue fitting in. It’s why she was targeted. A vampire and a witch… everyone could see it. Harry was struggling at the time, still adjusting to coming into vampiric adulthood. You both were so in love, you couldn’t see that people were noticing things. The way she never got sick, the things she could conjure up… it was incredible for the time period.” Astrid rolled her eyes slightly.

“And Harry? He abused conjuring. He got whatever he wanted whenever you batted those long eyelashes. Whipped to the tenth degree.”

Harry winced because as crude as she sounded… she wasn’t wrong.

“Two fools in love. I found out too late about the plans. I couldn’t save your physical form- but I saved your soul. Unfortunately…” she had the grace to look a bit bashful.

“Someone stole it. Vanessa- she had always been jealous of you and Harry. She had broke through an enchantment and stole the bottle I had your soul in. I got it back only a bit ago. That’s why it took so long. And Harry, here.” She gave him a glare. “Ignored my letters for a good few centuries. Rude.”

It was all a bit much to take in.

Y/N wasn’t sure what she was expecting, after all, it did involve vampires and witches. This certainly wasn’t on her list.

“So, you have my soul?” Y/N asked as if it was normal. As if she had any idea of how she ended up here. This whole time she thought she was her own person but this was a part of her. It didn’t make any sense, there was still a piece missing to the puzzle.

“Well, when I got it back, I drove up north because it seems all the bloodsuckers moved— and I released it.” Astrid continued, “About… say how old are you?”

“Almost 23.” Y/N swallowed, noticing how Astrid seemed pleased at her answer.

“23 years ago sounds about right.” Astrid hummed, “You know Harry, you should be thankful I brought her so close to you— who knows what would have happened had I not come up here.” It was clear that she was teasing, just getting the vampire riled up for her own entertainment.

“Any who… If Harry had opened my letters, he would have heard all about it. I’m glad you two found each other, I know how deeply you care for him… always knew you’d try to outsmart the fates— but you better not mess about this time!”

“Astrid.” He growled, feeling the rage inside of him brewing. “This is not funny.”

“I mean.” She waved her hand. “It’s a little funny. You’ve got each other now, don’t you? She isn’t gonna stick out so much. I figured you’d have that stick out of your arse since you’ve gotten her back butttttt…”

“You could have rang! Found me! Told me so I didn’t live in misery all these years. Of course, I’m ecstatic she is back, but you played me. Made me think there wasn’t a chance.”

Y/N could see him bristling, stiff as a board, with hair standing up on the back of his neck. Truly, he looked a bit monster like as she looked at his bared fangs and the veins that blackened beneath his eyes.

Her favorite show hadn’t been too far off.

“Harry.” She whispered, placing her hand on his chest. “Please. You’ve got to relax. I’m upset too. I’m confused. But getting combative isn’t going to give us answers.” She wasn’t afraid of him. Despite what most humans would feel, Y/N wasn’t worried about him hurting her. He would never. His hands were meant to nurture her. Soothe her. Pleasure. Not hurt.

Harry felt the warmth of her hand on his chest, the stiffness of his body relaxed a little. The veins and fangs remained, but his gaze softened as it laid on her.

“I’m sorry.” He gently pulled her to lean into his side, hand cupping the back of her head and letting her be pulled into his embrace. “I know you don’t like to see me like that.”

Harry was confused, because despite Celeste’s soul being inside of her… he fell in love with Y/N.

Her laugh, her giggle, her cinnamon sugar toast. Her painting, her cadence, and the way she preferred rubies to diamonds. The way her hair fell into her face even when she placed it up into that sleepy, messy bun. Her stories from school and how she always wanted to save any animal she saw outside.

It wasn’t just Celeste’s soul, but the personality she had gained here.

“She said she’d find you did she not?” Astrid asked with a chuckle, “and she’s here! You should be thanking me! It’s your own fault you haven’t bonded with her yet.” She rolled her eyes, though the sight of her sister in her new form warmed her heart.

She was different now— it seemed that the time in limbo had done her some good. Y/N seemed more free, almost innocent, it felt like she had found herself again. That sweet little girl that found joy in the peculiar, had found her way back home.

“Look, it’s quite simple— you love each other no? Harry, if you weren’t such a coward you would have already figured all of this out but it seems I must spell it out for you.” The woman grumbled as she stood up to leave.

“Celeste is alive and well, she’s found a home in Y/N’s soul the day she was born. Of course, they aren’t the same person, but when Celeste died her essence got a fresh start in her.” She started, looking between the two. “The second you bond with her, her memories will come back— but it won’t be Celeste. Unfortunately, well I guess fortunately for you, unless I recovered her body I wouldn’t be able to resurrect her fully. But she lives on within Y/N.”

Y/N was at a loss for words.

It was a bit disheartening, to think that her whole existence was just merely a part of some witch's plan for immortality. But if Astrid was telling the truth and that she was just a part of her, then it couldn’t be so bad right?

Surely it would hurt to see Harry get excited about seeing parts of Celeste in her, but if she was her then surely not? it all seemed a bit confusing. She wasn’t sure how it would work, but she was scared, to say the least.

“I….” He swallowed.

It was complicated. A weird mix of relief for finally having her back with him, but sadness because he knew how this was going to look to Y/N. The situation was quite literally one that had never happened in history books before.

“I fell in love with her. As much as Celeste will always be a part of me… I’m a little bit confused.” He turned slightly to Astrid. “She’s going to be… she will be aware of those memories?” He tried to soothe Y/N, his smooth hands running down her back but he could feel the unease oozing off of her.

“Oh, yes. But it doesn’t have to be complicated. Y/N, you’ve always been a bit confused about the missing pieces, haven’t you? Why you always feel as though Harry is so familiar to you? He’s literally made for you. Your body is a different vessel, but you’re still having the same feelings. It’s always been right.” Astrid paused, thinking of a good example.

“It’s why when you first moved in and Harry was probably his cold self and kept you at an arms length, it probably hurt, didn’t it? You felt a bit weird internally but shut it down because you’ve always been a bit too rational. Knowing you didn’t have a ‘right’ to feel upset but you did. It’s your old memories, old feelings. Harry wasn’t one to ever skimp on attention so it probably felt odd.”’

Y/N wasn’t going to bother asking how or why she knew that. It seemed that Y/N was just better off keeping to her ignorant bliss. Astrid had proved to both of them she knew far more about this than they did and she wasn’t going to fight— especially when they knew nothing about this soul bonding process on their own.

“I-I… if you’re saying I’m Celeste then are you saying I’m a witch as well?” Y/N asked curiously, though, she was uncertain about how she would feel about her answer. It was entirely possible. Were there rules she had to follow? Was there anything she had to do once she came into those powers?

Y/N was overwhelmed, to say the least, allowing herself to fully lean on Harry for support. She felt like this new information called for a long nap and a delicious meal immediately after she woke up. Nuzzling her face against Harry’s side she closed her eyes, waiting for Astrid’s answer. She didn’t care if she was being rude. Poor girl was feeling a bit lightheaded.

His cold body was a relief to the flush of heat that was through her at all of the intense information she had just received. She could have moaned as he placed his hand on the hot skin at the back of her neck, clutching onto him in a way that made the vampire a bit stressed.

“Yes. You absolutely are. Come on, girl. Do you really think that people can get things as easily as you? The manifesting thing on steroids? The things you chant to make yourself feel better…” Astrid laughed at the pure ignorance. The poor thing had been blissfully ignorant of everything up until now. “The powers are mostly dormant, I’m assuming. Considering you haven’t burnt the place down with rage, my sister, you have been held back. My assumption is that when Dracula bites you, the powers will start to come back as the bond strengthens.” She could feel Harry blinking at her, making her toss her hands up in a ‘whatever’ gesture. “I’ve done my reading. Deducing. Much better than that Sherlock did.”

He hadn’t known this would be the outcome and he had mixed feelings about it all. His old love was his new love, vice versa. He felt like his feelings were a betrayal to both of them.

The good thing was, though, his beautiful Y/N wouldn’t age the way a human would. She could truly be with him. It would be a matter of the soul mate bond snapping back into place instead of this constant edging between their souls and hearts.

“Fates.” Harry closed his eyes, massaging the back of Y/N’s neck soothingly.  “Alright. Astrid- get out of my house. She’s feeling faint. Stay around the area, I’ll need you to return or at the very least, send one of your own to help her soon. She needs to be aware before I bond her fully.” He wanted Y/N to choose. Not just the older part of her soul.

“Alright, alright… but don’t wait too long, you don’t want to her find dead one morning.” Astrid sighed, half joking but there was some truth to it. Now that she was aware of the fates plan, there was only so much time left for them to decide.  “You’ll know where to find me.” With a wave of her hand, Astrid was out the door.

Y/N was far too in her own mind to have heard her last comment, but Harry heard it crystal clear. While he may be a vampire, he was no stranger to the way the fates worked.

The fates were fair and just— it was their job to maintain balance here on earth, both for humans and the supernatural. At times their job led to making harsh decisions, if anyone broke the laws of the universe then they would see their fate flash before them.

Harry had never met someone as pure and kind as Y/N surely she was on the fates good side. He simply couldn’t see Celeste in her the way it seemed Astrid could. Though he loved Celeste dearly, he knew that their relationship was bound to end in a bloody disaster— he’d expected himself to be the one to break but the fates clearly had other plans.

Y/N let out a shaky breath against his shirt, clinging to him to find some stability. She needed to ground herself.

She needed to lay down.

[doofus-and-dragons]

This will more than likely be the last one of these I have. So, for the last time, here is my live reaction to the final season of TMA. These will be in no particular order because ice been listening to it over the span of a couple of weeks. I only listen to it at work.

TMA S5 Spoilers ahead

The cabin episode made me so sad. The eyepocolypse had even taken away their domestic bliss

I really don't remember the trenches that well. It's not a fear of mine, so it didn't shake me or stick well enough. Still good tho

The sickness episode sent me right back to senior year of highschool. I had to take a minute KXNSKXN

REVOLUTIONS WAS AMAZING I LOVED THE POETRY AND THE ACENGING OF SASHA BY KILLING NOT!SASHA. I love it.

At first I thought the worms was about Jane again but I was very wrong. It was a very interesting take!

Curiosity made me incredibly sad. I feel bad for Eric, Micheal, and Sarah(? Trinity? I don't remember. She was set on fire by a desolation avatar I think)

Also: Gertrude x Agnes perhaps???? Or at least solemn pinning? Maybe I just think it's slightly tragic to make it so and sometimes angst is good yknow?

Roots was ok, but the only part that stuck out to me was the jealous Martin scene. I listened to it like 3 times. I kept rewinding it just to list to it.

Fire Escape was SO good! It gave me a kind of manic energy as I listened to the descriptions of the fire.

Martin in the Lonely again made me cry. That's it.

"Who's this? Your boyfriend?" "Yes actually." "Oh...so is there anyway this doesn't end in me dead?"

The Basira and Daisy stuff actually did make me feel bad for Basira. Like, it's the apocalypse and she's having a whole ass crisis.

SALESA WAS INCREADIBLE

I wonder how he faked his death... man is talented and smart, I'll give him that

Skipping ahead to Martin's domain. Loved that. My boy isn't strictly human and I love that he can't deny that fact anymore.

Martin: Something something "one of you"

Jon, being a smug theater kid bastard boy: "One of us."

Like I heard that and I imagined him smirking ominously and gesturing with both his hands

He sounded so pleased that his boyfriend, as miniscule a role it had or that martin had, was like him, and I love that for him

I'm so glad Melanie and Georgie are happy. Though, the cult does weird me out (cults give me the heebie jeebies. It was a very nice touch!)

They deserve nice things.

Also, my favorite of the Cult members was Anil's character. I can't remember his name right off the top of my head, but he was wonderful. Anil did amazing with that little cameo/role

The scene where's he's arguing with Martin reminds me of that Jojo meme with jotoro and dio, but instead of stands they have their poetry clutched tight in their fists

"I dont need a poet." No, Jon, because you already have one. His name is Martin

Of course Jon gets trapped in the ocean when he doesn't have big string martin to row him out of it XD

SOMEWHERE ELSE SOMEWHERE ELSE SOMEWHERE ELSE

Annabelle Cane is wonderful, I'm so glad Jon didn't kill her. She's so chummy with Martin up until she has to be a dramatic villain and I love that for her!

The ladder episode made me grin like a maniac manly because I would be the Martin in that situation. I love the feeling of falling/floating, but I hate actually getting myself to fall. I physically can't do it. I can barely dive into the lake from my papaw's boat

Martin, there are thousands of fanfics that dive into you two getting together without the trauma. Don't even.

NO JON THE PLAN

Hey, real elias! That's where him being a stoner comes from! Because he is one! Nice.

I love og Elias, and I would protect him with my life I don't care.

Oh wait it was just Magnus dreaming

JON NO THE PLAN FUCKING HELL

I almost cried when Martin was yelling at Jon. The boys are fighting

THE KISS HOLY SHIT ALEX SAKD THEY WOULDNT KISS THEY KISSED AH

They're somewhere else being happy and domestic now you can't change my mind

[walder-138]

Okay, Pookie. I forgot my precious ask, so I’ll send in new ones for the other OC ask game. 👁️👄👁️

5. what was your character's dream job as a kid? is it different than what their career ended up being?

6. what is the thing your oc likes the least about themselves?

16. how does your OC feel about their parents? (No hope for Ozzy and Annika 😭)

23. what are your OC’s biggest flaws and biggest strengths?

26. least favorite food and color?

28. is your OC a dog or cat person?

Pookie I’m so sorry 😭

(5) Oz’s dream job was to play in the NFL, which he was extremely close to doing. He loved football, was very talented and got an athletic scholarship to a college known for its team. Two years in, ‘68, his little brother, Johnny, gets drafted. For Oz’s entire life, he was the one expected to go into the military as the oldest, so the guilt he had overwhelmed him into joining as well. That’s why he joined the Army.

Annika wanted to be a Veterinarian because of “her” childhood dog. (some crusty ass stray she found on the side of the street) He got sick and died, and she wanted to stop that from happening to other animals. (Boris is literally the reason why Annika has any semblance of empathy. Dawg was the best)

Now… oh shit. She’s a mass murderer who kills people for a living, dead opposite of what she wanted to be. Oh well, lives a bitch and then you die.

Abbey, as a kid, wanted to do anything that supported her caregivers’ ideology, which she truly didn’t know jackshit about. She thought that they could do nothing wrong and needed support; she would’ve died for them. Instead, Abbey also took the exact opposite route. She went into the FBI to take those people down. Another drastic change in the list.

(6) Oz hates who he was between leaving Vietnam and having Jenny. “A depressed, abusive, drug-addicted piece of human shit.” as he calls it. He hates it when he exhibits any behaviors that remind himself of that time. If Oz yells at Jenny, or feels the urge to relapse, he punishes himself by not taking care of himself.

Annika hates that she isn’t as ruthless as she used to be. She’d used to kill for money, for power, now Annika can barely kill for self defense. She wishes she could go back to being apathetic, but now that scab’s been peeled off, and everything’s bleeding out.

Abbey hates how obsessive she is. Not stalker-like obsessed; I’m talking obsessive-compulsive obsessed. There’s a constant presence in her head telling her how she should be, what she must do or else something terrible will happen. How deeply she thinks about how somebody else’s acting. Girl barely sleeps at night because of her rituals.

(16) Oz HATES his father. That monster abused him physically, emotionally, and psychologically for his entire life. Nobody believed him growing up that his father was abusive, not even his siblings, because Old Man Clancy was a ‘war hero’. War hero his ass. All Ozzy saw was a monster.

However, he was a Mama’s boy through and through. She was the only person that believed him, as she went through the abuse herself. They spoke to each other in German when Old Man Clancy was away and made dinner together for rest of the family. Best memories of his life with his mom.

Annika, it depends which AU. In the original one, with her as Bell? She couldn’t care less about her parents. They never had that ‘love and attention” thing that y’all seem to be obsessed with. Her parents were more coworkers than parents. Everything was transactional within the “family”.

However, in the AU where her dad becomes Bell, she’s only about 9. Girl looks up to him, wanting to do all the things he does, and loves him more than anything. Well, she was in one of the cars during the airport thing at the beginning of the story, so now she thinks he’s dead. She was screaming out for her dad while Mason was carrying her off.

Can’t do Abbey as she doesn’t know her parents 🙃

(23) Keeping this one short:

Oz’s greatest flaw: Chronically low self-esteem; dude hates himself so much he unknowingly takes it out on everyone around him.

Oz’s greatest strength: Resilience; dudebro’s gone through hell and back, and is already up for round 4. He ain’t giving up any time soon.

Annika’s greatest flaw: Pookie look at her. Her lack of empathy; she can’t understand other’s emotions too well.

Annika’s greatest strength: Her ruthlessness. She don’t give a SHIT. She will get the job done.

Abbey’s greatest flaw: She’s a perfectionist, about herself and the people around her.

Abbey’s greatest strength: Her genuine kindness.

(26) Oz is a macho man, he hates the color pink. Dawg has PTSD surrounding non perishables, he will not eat canned food cause he found a BUNCH OF COCKROACHES IN A CAN OF CORN DURING HIS DEPLOYMENT AHHHHHHH HOW THE FUCK DID THEY GET IN THERE????

Annika hates meat. She’s a vegetarian, the smell of meat makes her gag. She’ll throw up if she has to eat it. She doesn’t like the color orange, reminds her of Captain Asshole (Adler).

What food DOESN’T Abbey hate? Girl is very picky, but her least favorite is ONIONS BECAUSE THEY SUCK. ONIONS SUCK. I FUCKING HATE ONIONS. THEYRE DISGUSTING. HOW COULD YOU ENJOY THEM???? SHE WILL GAG. Oh and her least favorite color is blue 😊

(28) Oz is a cat person through and through. Dogs remind him of Vietnam.

Annika doesn’t give a shit. If it has 0-4 legs, 0-2 eyes, makes an adorable noise (or tries to), she will LOVE it. Get her a rat, she’ll love and cherish it.

Abbey’s a dog person. They’re so funny and are always happy, and always serve as a good distraction.

THANKS FOR THE OTHER ASK! ITS ALWAGS NICE HEARING FROM MY POOKIE BEAR ❤️

[theholypeanut]

Isekai’ed into Kuroko no Basket? AND IN YŌSEN?

Isekai genre - when someone (usually an adult girl) dies in her life (usually by being hit by truck-kun) and gets reincarnated into a novel she read (usually with multiple male leads and steamy romance, also usually fantasy world)

Certain pre-isekai life assumptions: “You” are not from Akita, or any other north city of Japan, also AFAB character pre and post isekai

Comedy crack piece, cw: swearing and being mean about knb characters, simping for Daddy Harasawa

- U came back from your university wanting to just die from amount of work and studying you had to do

- You are just a casual student, not so great, not so bad, and for stress relief you read lots of sports mangas bc of pretty sweating boys

- You decided to go to the convenience store for some instant ramen, what is a main core of your diet, and then, in your least favourite sweatpants and dirty t-shirt, u get hit by a truck

- Thinking “well at least I don’t have to give the assignment tomorrow for econ” u just waited if they have anime in hell

- And then you open your eyes, and it’s not your bed, not your room

- Actually it was a very nice neat room, looked like belonged to some teenage girl, which is also kinda alarming, that someone like this rescued a wounded adult person who looked like a homeless beggar

- However you don’t feel any pain, which is weird considering you just get hit by a truck. You sit up and noticed that u look a little… skinnier? Also your hands looked diff- Hold up.

- You looked into the mirror and it was not your reflection

- Even worse, after all you assumed if you wake up in some other body, at least this time you’d be extremely pretty with big boobs and nice ass but no luck - you were pretty but also pretty plain. Also very young

- You saw a cute uniform hanging next to your mirror and got war flashbacks. It was not your high school uniform but the fact that it was here suggests that…

- …. You have to go back to school and you’d really rather just die, even if the uniform is pretty

- After eating breakfast with not-your-parents and wearing this pretty not-your-uniform, you fished for some information from them - which wasn’t hard bc they were very excited that you are starting your high school life today, in this prestigious Catholic school, that is well known from western influences and good food. But somehow they never told you the name.

- You tried to pretend to be very clumsy and asked not-your-parents “So what’s the name of my school again?”

- They looked at you like you are a cat who does silly tricks and not-your-mom said “Silly, how could you forget? You go to Yosen now”

- You froze. This name sounded too familiar, especially with your cute uniform. Hold up. If this is this Yosen then…

-“WAIT WE ARE IN AKITA?” You yelled with despair. At this point your parents were wondering if you have brain damage, bc how could you forget where you lived your whole life?

- U somehow convince your parents that you don’t have brain tumour or got concussed during the night, and you just had a very strange dream about living in Tokyo and confused reality with dreaming

- While walking to your dumb school in dumb Akita, you already were annoyed

- First of all, you fuckin hated snow

- And second of all, not only you got isekai’ed into a sports anime, which is probably the worst thing that could happen to the girl, because this teenage boys have basketball balls for brains, but also you ended up in Akita way away from the main plot, and you are back into your first year of highschool while mentally still being a college student in her 20’s, which kinda made you a creep

- Not only that, if this is really world of Kuroko no Basket, you ended up in a school with The Biggest (Talented) Whiny Baby and Emo Pretty Boy which seriously, are not the best cards you could get

- If you’d get into any school in Tokyo, at least you’d interact with the characters more, and if it’d be Rakuzan, it seemed like players in the team were just way more fun and diverse, while Yōsen’s whole plot was mostly Himuro’s weird homoerotic brotherhood and Murasakibara being a whiny bitch. Oh, and them being tall

- Also they show up in the anime only in Winter Cup arc, which means that you don’t interact with the main plot in the next half a year - so what the heck are you supposed to do till now?

- Also the fact that this is a Catholic school makes it even more ridiculous - if God exists, he’d sent you to Tōō so you can simp over the hottest coach in whole series, not send you to The North

- You found your way to the school and, well, to be fair: it was really impressive. Also people here were so freaking tall, it is ridiculous for Japan

- School for Giraffes I swear

- Building was huge, modern, pretty - no wonder your fake parents were so excited about you going here

- When you went to the announcement board to check the class you are in, very fast you realised that you are in the same class as Murasakibara

- Well, it does make sense, since this is a very typical plot armour situation - but also it makes you wonder - should you get involved in the plot at all? Become a manager for Yōsen team? Because honestly it seem like… a hassle.

- U found your way into the classroom and there was still no Purple Baby Giant. Also outside of that, everyone seem rather normal, no crazy hair colors, no one being two meters tall, no one being extremely pretty or handsome: typical NPC class in the anime

- You chose a chair next to the window, to get +10 to angst (as you are now a teenager, again)

- Bell rang and everyone took their sits, and there was still no familiar face. Is it possible, that all of this was just a huge coincidence, and you got reincarnated into some alternative universe where names are just way too familiar?

- Right when you were about to sigh with relief, the door opened and you saw a giant figure, that didn’t even fit into the frame. “I’m sorry for being late”

- I guess no one expected someone so big attend first class, so teacher asked if he is sure that’s where he supposed to be, while everyone else started gossiping. To be fair maybe later on you’d ask new classmates if they find it suspicious that his hair was purple. After explaining the issue, Murasakibara Atsushi, The Giant of Teikō, member of Generation of Miracles, sat right behind you, in the last place from the window. Well, that would be indeed rather inconvenient if he sit in the front.

- Teacher started intodrucing himself and there were some voting regarding class President - neither you or Murasakibara got elected, since it would be very inconvenient for the plot. However at the end of the lesson teacher requested all of you to write something in the notebook. “Ah, crap” you hear behind you. No freaking way, you thought. No way…

- “Hey” you felt someone touching you on the back. “Can you borrow me a pen?”

- As in a stereotypical shoujo manga scene, you took a pen out of your pencil case and turn around to face The Main Character of this school. He took it without changing his bored expression and murmured quiet thanks.

- As the break started, you were thinking about talking to him again, but just as hungry birds, people from your class gathered around purple haired boy, commenting on his height. “Whoa do you play volleyball?” “No, basketball” for a second it amused you, how interesting would be if Murasakibara get into Haikyuu (he totally should have come to Shiratorizawa). Since there was no chance to talk to him, you just took out some food not-your-mom prepared, which actually were some homemade cookies.

- “Hey” you heard the same voice again as before, but you didn’t turn this time. People were still gathered around, so he probably wasn’t speaking to you. However the crowd got quiet. “Hey, Pen Girl” you heard a little louder. If it was a car that hit you, not a truck, maybe you’ll be just peacefully dead, instead of dealing with this bullshit.

- You turned around. “What?” You said rather annoyed. You could hear how entire class collectively stopped breathing from fear. This dude was over two meters tall, and you are talking to him this way? Sounds like a death wish.

- “Can I have one?” He pointed at the cookie. Oooh… you made a fast calculation in your head. Do you want to be inserted into sports anime plot? Do you want to do this manager work and watch sweaty boys go around the ball in your free time? Do you want to make fun of Himuro’s bangs?

- You know the answer. So there was no other way. You took one more cookie into your hand, and put all others on Murasakibara’s desk. “You can have them, they are really good.”

- And there you are, a college weeb, making friends with The Whinest Highschooler in Kuroko no Basket.

- Getting a position of the basketball club manager in Yōsen was actually way harder than it should be. When you went to the coach with your application, you were denied on the spot. “We don’t need a manager” she said coldly. You did not expect that. But then she added “if you want to join Himuro’s funclub, you can do it from the spectator’s sit”

- Oooh, now it all makes sense. Amount of teenage girls who want to sniff Himuro’s sweaty towels made things harder for you. But you still decided to shoot your shot. After all, Yōsen coach was not so much older than you before you died.

- “Actually, I’m in Murasakibara’s class” you started. “We are very good friends” you put your application next to the coach on the desk, and bended a little closer to her ear and lowered your voice. “I know how to keep him motivated. Think about it”. After that you left the office and decided to put into motion your new plan: Pavloving Murasakibara

- It took one week until Coach asked you to come to the training. You’ve been preparing for this all this time. You knew that Atsushi was lazy, hated sweating and getting invested into the game, and treated everything like a hassle.

- For the past week you and Purple Giant became a very good friends. You’d always brought more food and sweets, so it wasn’t long until his mouth started watering whenever he saw your face. All according to the plan.

- “We have a rather important training match soon, and Murasakibara is not treating trainings seriously” coach sighed on your way to the gym. “It is really annoying how someone so talented has so little dedication”

- When you arrived, you’d see a crowd of girls from all classes watching guys stretching. Or should you say, one guy.

- Murasakibara was getting yelled at by the captain, probably hearing something similar you heard from the coach: to start training seriously. But the moment he saw you, his face got brighter. Ah, the power of conditioning. Thank god you took the psychology class on your first year.

- “Chibi-chin!” You heard his voice. Yes, it was a lovely nickname that he used, as you were way smaller than him. You smiled and waved your hand. Captain got distracted, as he probably never expected Coach to voluntarily bring a girl to the training. “If you can make him treat it seriously, you can be the manager. Just don’t steal Himuro’s shirts” “Can I steal his shorts tho?” Coach sent you a disgusted look. “Okay, that was a joke, no stealing”

- You went to Murasakibara. “Hey ‘Sushi!” At this point you wouldn’t be surprise if people assume you two are dating, since you had lovely nicknames for each other. “I heard that you have an important match soon” you touched his jersey and gently pull it so he will lean down to you. “You know, if you try your best on the training and win that game, I’ll ask my mom to make you a homemade cake, any flavour you’d want”

- He swallowed saliva. “Any flavour?” - You could hear excitement in his voice. “Yes” you smiled to him. “So work hard, okay, ‘Sushi?”

- That day, no one from oppose team could score any shoot against Murasakibara.

- You got manager position on the spot.

- If this was an Isekai Novel it would be called How I Became a Nanny to 208 cm Giant Baby

By slowlyholypeanut - dont steal, give credit, love live laugh or whatever

PS: I have no personal grudge against Akita, or Himuro’s bangs, however I do have a grudge against snow

[issybettyx]

Hero Tommy, Villains SBI AU

Tldr; i was on tiktok earlier and heard a sound and suddenly this au was born (i’m skipping revision for my exams that start tomorrow to write this) (dream is also in this au purely because i needed a manipulative character, and c!dream is basically just that)

—

“Here to lose again, Theseus?” Siren taunts, jumping over the flash of light the hero shot in his direction. Theseus laughs, grinning as he continues to fire, letting his eyes glow red as he does so. “You’ll never defeat us no matter how hard you try.”

“You’re all bitches,” Tommy spits, and he grins wider when Siren barks out an unamused laugh, letting his energy guide him as Siren phases through the floor, appearing behind him a moment later. “What’s the point of The SBI anyways?”

Curiosity was evil, and Tommy was starving from a lack of information. His whole life, all he’d ever wanted was answers. Maybe asking Siren the point of his existence wouldn’t tell him who his parents were or why he was forced into the Hero Guild at the meek age of 7, but knowledge helped him in the field.

“The Guild knows our reasons, why don’t you?” Siren laughed back, attempting to send a phantom punch through Theseus’ skull, the kid dodging just in time. Dream had told him it was good he was young, it made him quick and flexible, made it easier to dodge and harder to catch. Despite his clear confusion, and yet apathy towards the entire situation, Siren continues. “We had something taken from us, and the Hero Guild have been hiding it for years despite how much they insist they don’t have it.”

“We’re civil, we wouldn’t steal, we’re not fuckin’ robbers or anything.” Tommy spits back, somehow managing to land a kick on Siren’s chest, sending a bright red stream of energy onto the exact place he’d managed to hit and watching as the man fell to the ground, clutching at his chest with a hiss. “We just stop the annoying shits who wreak havoc on our country.”

“You tell your Dream buddy that we demand what’s ours back,” Siren tells him, and Theseus feels something cold press hard at his back, shivers taking over all of his limbs until he’s struggling to stand. He continued to stay stood, despite how much his body begs to fall.

Dream wouldn’t like it if he fell.

He couldn’t disappoint Dream.

“And what if they don’t?” He yells back, making sure his voice echoed on the cold walls of the alleyway they were currently in. It wasn’t the best place for a fight, but it was better than having cameras catch his every move. Whenever that happened, him and Dream would spend the entirety of the next day pointing out and correcting the flaws of his technique. “What if they can’t give it back?”

“I’m sure, if they’re lives are on the line, they will be more than willing to give it back.”

Siren disappeared through the floor before he could say anything else, leaving Theseus alone once more.

—

“Dream,” Tommy starts, taking a deep breath as the man hums, scrolling on his phone, “I want to find my family.”

The man pauses, fingers going still on his screen as he stares directly ahead, and Tommy already regrets saying anything.

“We’ve tried, Tommy, you know this.”

“You tried when I was seven.” Tommy insisted despite the fear thrumming through his veins, biting his lip when bright green eyes stare back at him, a dull frown sitting on his face. “We didn’t even do a DNA test, that could find them so quickly, I’m sure-“

“Go to training kiddo.” Dream told him, and he wanted to protest, wanted to yell and tell him he was actually stupid to think they’d done all they could; but it was Dream he was talking to, he couldn’t just go against him, so he obliged, picking up his suit and leaving the room.

Before he opened the door, he made sure to pick up his backpack, throwing his suit into it before leaving, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Tommy arrived at the centre soon enough. It was a place he’d found on a solo patrol one night, a centre where you could test your DNA and find your family history and things similar to it. Maybe he’d gone a few months ago and gave them a swab of his DNA. Maybe he was only looking for permission so he could show someone he’d found his family, but it seems he would have to keep this to himself as well.

“Tommy Innit?” The desk lady called, and he immediately stood up, taking the brown folder from her with a quiet thanks before immediately leaving, breaking open the flap that sealed it shut.

After taking a deep breath, a short session of rethinking his life choices and swallowing the lump in his throat, Tommy lifted the white papers out, looking over the front.

‘Tommy Innit.

DOB: April 9th 2004’

This was it.

He lifted the front paper out, slipping it behind the others before he looked over it.

‘Heritage: 75% L’Manberg, 20% Essempee’

He took out the next paper.

And the next.

Before finally, the words ‘Family Tree’ met his gaze, and he had never read something faster, the widest smile on his face.

—

Tommy knocked on the door - after a good few minutes of wanting to turn back from the nerves fluttering in his stomach - immediately taking a step away from it.

“Techno get the door!” A voice shouted from the inside, and Tommy knew he had the right place.

The form had said his closest family were as follows; Phil Craft, his father, aged 36. His mother, Kristin Craft, whose age wasn’t specified? It was strange but he brushed past it. And, apparently, he had two brothers, and they were twins.

Technoblade Craft and Wilbur Craft.

“I’m doing homework! Make Wil get it!”

“Wil’s not in- you know what.”

Footsteps followed, and Tommy took a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he tapped his fingers on his leg, trying to steady his breathing as scraping metal from a door lock filled his ears. The door was opened, and a blonde man stood on the other side, blue eyes blinking at Tommy who could only just manage to look back at him.

“Can I help you?” He asked slowly, squinting his eyes at Tommy who took another deep breath, muttering random things under his breath as Phil continued to stare. “Did the government send you? Oh god-“

“No- I- no, I- oh god how do I put this?” Tommy tried, despite having recited this conversation in his head thousands of times he still found himself lost for words. No one had told him meeting his father for the first time would be so… scary. Then again, no one really knew he was there. “I’m an orphan.”

This only seemed to confuse the other more.

“Right?”

“And I- I never knew who my family were, so I kinda snuck off to this centre in town?” Tommy tried, messing with his hands as he refused to look at the other. After a moment, he put his shaking hands into his bag and pulled out the page of his family tree, holding it out to the man who took it with slight hesitance.

Tommy didn’t watch him as his eyes went wide, mouth slightly open as he stared at it, disbelief taking over.

“Um, apparently your my dad? And I wanted to meet you my entire life, and I wasn’t sure-“

Arms wrapped around him, cutting his sentence off to look at Phil, the man’s arms holding him so tight Tommy wondered if he would ever let go. His head was pushed into Tommy’s shoulder, and he could feel his sleeve getting wet.

Was he crying?

“Oh Tommy.” Phil said shakily, and Tommy sighed, returning the hug as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I thought I’d never see you again- I- oh god, I’m so sorry.”

Some part of him said to forgive him. But he didn’t exactly know what had happened in the first place, so he only held him tighter, holding down his own cries as he heard Phil, feeling as he shook in his hold.

“Dad who is it?” A deep voice called, likely Techno because apparently Wilbur wasn’t there, as footsteps grew louder, Phil sniffing before moving back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Only then did Tommy see the other man, pink hair tied back into a messy bun, a mug in his hand with glasses over his eyes. His clothes were a little questionable, a fancy frilled shirt tucked into black trousers. The man looked at Phil, a raised eyebrow with a silent question Tommy wasn’t sure of, but Phil nodded and a hand was thrown over his mouth before he placed the mug down. “Tommy?”

“I- yeah?” Tommy returned, and Techno was walking over before he could do anything, the man pulling his head onto his chest and keeping a steady on the back of his head, and Tommy leaned into it, letting out a breath as he tried to ignore the shivering of the other. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, kid.” Techno told him, letting go to crouch in front of him, holding his hand with a small smile. It didn’t look right on the man’s face, but Tommy returned it anyways, wiping whatever tears were forming in his eyes, “None of this was your fault.”

“I’ve messaged Wil, he’s on his way back.” Phil said, albeit a bit rushed, before turning to Tommy, a fond smile on his face. “You can eat dinner with us? If you’d like?”

Did he? Yes, he wanted to, a million times yes. But Dream would murder him if he was home late. Not to even mention the fact the man didn’t seem to keen on the idea of him finding his family, for whatever reason.

“I would love to.” Tommy replied nonetheless, letting them usher him into the house. It was a lovely space, in Tommy’s opinion. The wallpaper was a sage green, and wooden shelves lined one wall. A mirror was in the hallway, a cabinet beneath it with a vase on it, no flowers to make it prettier. They led him to the kitchen, and Techno flicked on the kettle again, offering Tommy a drink to which he declined.

“So, Tommy,” Phil started, and Tommy looked at him, taking in his warm smile and the way tension had left his shoulders since he’d arrived, “Tell us about yourself.”

Well he’d been a hero since he was seven, and that was basically his entire life.

“I like cows.” Is what he said, because it was true, he did, “And the colour red. It’s epic.”

“It is epic,” Techno replied to that, pouring Phil a mug of coffee and passing it to him, “Red is the coolest colour. Well, apart from pink.”

“Pink is a very based favourite colour.” Tommy returned, and Techno seemed to straightening up a little at that as that same smile returned from before.

“How’ve you been doing?” Phil asked, a little more cautious than the first time. “Have you been living with someone or?”

“Well,” Tommy started, wondering how in hells name to go about this. He had a feeling if he said he didn’t want to say, he would he allowed to keep it to himself. But this was his dad, asking about where he’d been basically his entire life, so maybe he could just… not name names. “My guardian found me when I was a baby, and he gave me a roof over my head for basically my entire life. He can be a bit…” what was the word? “Strange,” Good enough, “Sometimes, but he basically raised me, so I made do.”

“Who is he?” Techno asked, Phil hitting his arm lightly as he shrugged, “I think I deserve to know who my little brother has been staying with all this time.” There was a look in Phil’s eyes that was a kind of warning, and if Tommy didn’t know better he would say it said they knew something he didn’t.

“I have a question, actually.” Tommy said after a moment of quiet conversation between the other two, bringing the attention back to him. Attention was always something he’d hated, it was always the media shoving cameras into his masked face, following his movements and guessing his next move. He sunk a little under the watchful eyes, biting his lip as he brought his knees to his chest. “Where have you been?”

His real question was clear. Why was I orphaned? Did you choose to? Why did I have to be raised by a young hero and roped into a job so early that I’ve always hated?

“We-“ Phil started, but Techno cut him off.

“You were taken in your sleep.” Techno said bluntly, sipping on his coffee as if admitting Tommy had been kidnapped was the calmest topic of conversation. “We’ve been trying to track you down since, but they were very good at covering their tracks.”

“We knew the only way for you to get back was for you to do it on your own accord,” Phil admitted, picking at his nails as Tommy looked at the floor, frowning as he tried to process it all. “But we tried to get you back nonetheless, they were just… very good at hiding you.”

The door opened after Phil finished speaking, and Tommy turned as fast footsteps filled the house, and soon enough a brown haired man was stood in the doorway, circular glasses over his brown eyes. His style was a lot more simplistic than Techno’s; a simple white shirt with a yellow jumper over the top, black trousers leading down the black boots, and a brown trench coat was over his shoulders, clearly forgotten to be taken off in his rush.

His eyes were wide as he stared at him, eyes scanning him as if he was worried the boy would disappear and he had to remember every small detail. It was a strange thing, and yet Tommy wasn’t too against that kind of attention, waiting for someone to say something.

“Am I dreaming? This is a dream right?” Wilbur asked, taking a careful step closer as Tommy shook his head, watching the man look down at his hands, muttering numbers under his breath before sucking in a quick breath, staring at Tommy before bounding towards him, tugging him into a warm hug.

It wasn’t as tight as Phil’s, whose hug gave him a strange sense of security. It wasn’t as… whatever Techno’s was, that let him know he was there and everything was okay.

It was warm, and it felt safe, and he knew he could pull away if he tried. It was what finally made him cry, clinging back as he sobbed, hoping the man didn’t care if his jumper got too wet, feeling the man hold him tighter as he rested his chin on his head.

“You’re safe now, Tommy.” He whispered, sincerity soaking his words as Tommy only cried harder, knowing his brother would keep him safe. “We’re here, and we’re not going anywhere.”

“But I have to go.” Tommy cried back, shaking his head as Wilbur hushed him, stroking his hands through his hair. With all the emotion in him, Tommy couldn’t find it in him to lie to his family any longer. In Wilbur’s arms, he knew he never wanted to leave, so they needed the truth if they could even try to do anything to fix things. “Dream will be mad if I don’t go back to the tower, he- he’ll-“

“It’s alright, take a deep breath, take your time.” Wilbur muttered back, feeling the kid’s chest rise and fall as he cried.

“Dream has given me everything, and if I leave- he didn’t want me to leave.”

Tommy didn’t see as Phil gripped his coffee tighter, something dangerous flickering in his eyes as he listened to Tommy say the hero’s name. Tommy didn’t see Techno bite his lip, a million thoughts running through his head as he already began planning the man’s demise.

Wilbur only held him tighter.

“He gave me everything, he made me who I am, he- I need to leave.”

“You don’t need to leave, Toms, your safe here.” Wilbur assured, and Tommy shook his head again.

“Can I ask you a question Tommy?” Techno asked carefully, the blonde sniffing as he turned, Wilbur letting go for a moment so he could look at Techno, before slinging his arms over Tommy’s shoulders, resting his chin on Tommy’s head once more. “What did Dream do for you? Who did he make you?”

Could he say that?

Probably, it’s not like they would or could do anything if they knew he was a hero.

“Theseus.” He sniffed back, wiping his eyes as Wilbur froze. Tommy immediately regretted it, everything he’d said coming back to him as he struggled for words, seeing Techno’s wide eyes and Phil’s hand gripping tighter on his mug. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-“

“Dream made a child a hero?” Techno scowled, and Tommy immediately got defensive.

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re 14.”

“And? I’m not a kid, I can hold my own.” Tommy insisted, standing straighter and forcing Wilbur’s head up.

Phil’s frown physically hurt him, and he found himself looking at the floor to avoid his firey gaze.

“You shouldn’t have to, though.” Phil said quietly, and Tommy had to squeeze his eyes shut as he took a deep breath.

“And you don’t have to, not anymore.” Wilbur added, squeezing Tommy’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Techno laughed back, but Tommy could hear the malice in it, “If Dream even gets within one mile of you he won’t see the light of day again.”

“That sounds quite evil of you Technoblade,” Tommy told him, finding himself smiling as the man grinned back, “It’s kind of awesome.”

“What can I say? I am awesome.”

Tommy laughed, leaning into Wilbur as the man held him closer, Techno sipping his coffee again as Phil typed something into his phone - Tommy had a feeling he wasn’t casually messaging a colleague, but he didn’t voice those thoughts.

He didn’t voice the thoughts because he was finally safe; he wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he knew he could relax even if it wouldn’t be for long.

With his family, in a home that felt right, without bright green eyes constantly staring holes into his head, he felt safe.

[snowandwolves]

Tis your neighborhood lengthy ask anon - happy Friday! it's been a weird week, I had a nightmare and it threw me for a loop and off course - it also made me wish i had someone to make me cold hot chocolate. (i was rereading that chapter and there's a line "She could cry. She could laugh. She could run." and she does all three, doesn't she? but also: she stays 😭)

just three questions for you this time - you keep answering, so i'll keep asking! but as always, pick and choose what you feel like answering (i will say that ava getting arrested for streaking feels canon for every universe lololol ALSO worms are weird as heck ack)

In relation to the story, when did Lucia leave? like a year before it starts? months?

Was there any one scene or chapter that gave you a hard time?

You posted chapters almost exactly a month apart - did you plan that? if yes, how did you stay on track?

If you were to have art done for either the lighthouse au or sixth to the ninth, what would be your top 3 scenes?

also holy shit how is it february? what the actual hecking fuck. wishing you goodness and delicious food served at the perfect temperature!

i was responding to an ask before this one and happened to type “february” for it, and i had the same reaction you did. how??? did we get here??? rip my concept of time. also! of course, i’d keep answering??? this is genuinely so much fun for me and also reminds me that there’s more to life than trying to survive capitalism LMAO also, also literally projecting you the warmest, most comforting vibes i have for that nightmare you had 🥺 i’m sorry you had one, and i hope you’ve been having better dreams since! on to the questions!

1. you know, i tried to make a timeline for this to keep track, but HAHAHAHAHA I HAVE NO CONCEPT OF TIME. so let’s say like a year before lighthouse au. i’d imagine it should be enough time for bea to figure out how to live in the aftermath of her but also still carry the hurt lucia caused. oh no, that hurt me to write akdnskd moving on.

2. oh, there were so many. i had the hardest time starting the storm chapter because i’d been building it up literally and mentally 💀 so the brain went overdrive until i finally was like,,, fuck it 😂 also ava’s thoughts after she asked for space! character progression is hard. but i think where i struggled the most with this fic is handling both a main plot (getting them together) and the subplots (ava and bea’s respective character growths). i loved the challenge but it also hurt my brain 😂 i had to put the whole thing in an overly detailed database to keep track of everything 😂

3. god, no. i genuinely have no idea how i managed an update every month 😂 but i think the notion thing and have it all broken down there plus my mess of notes with all the fragments definitely helped. this fic literally taught me the magic of outlining.

4. fuck, lengthy ask anon. i would bawl and make a twitter purely to yell at y’all about any art related to my fics 😂 lighthouse au: i’d pass away if i ever see bea grounding ava during the storm, also them not making it to the bedroom, and also—for some reason—ava taking bea’s photo the first time. sixth to the ninth: i’d cry over ava’s return (the one where camila was there watching bea weep), bea in lilith’s wings, aaand bathroom scene (will break my goddamn heart but yep).

lengthy ask anon, i wish i knew how we managed to get to february but i’m glad we did 🥹 as always, thank you for this, and i deeply hope you’ve been having the best days 💙

[daydream-cement]

The Cedars Have Eyes Ch. 6

Characters: Larissa Weems x OC (Fern Rogers)

Synopsis: Fern and Larissa visit the tree that saved Fern. More truths are revealed. Our characters try to figure out how to manage.

Authors Note: Yeesh, this is a sad fic. Who is writing this shit?

“Larissa, will you come to the old meeting house with me?” You asked as you walked from the bedroom.

“Of course. Why?” Larissa was sitting in the living room, enjoying one of her last days of spring break by reading a book.

“I just want to go for a walk with my favorite lady.” You smile, leaning over the edge of her chair to place a kiss on her lips. Larissa seemed skeptical of your reasoning.

“What are you about to do?” Larissa eyed you, her hand reaching out for your arm.

You dodge her hand with a smile, making a bit of a game out of it. You begin backing up towards the front door, seeing Larissa was up for a bit of a chase. The taller woman had the mischief in her eyes but her expression remained serious. She stood from her chair.

You thought you could beat her to the door, but you were still unlocking it when you felt her arms encircle your waist. Rarely did the both of you engage in roughhousing or horseplay, but you couldn’t stop laughing as she picked you up.

“Put me down!” You yell through your laughing, and Larissa does what she was told. She threw you onto the couch, crawling on top of you to hold you down.

“What are you up to, Fern Rogers?” She pants, hovering over you, her hands on either side of your head.

You knew the truth was the only thing you could offer, she would know if you lied now, “I’m going to see if I can get more answers for why I am at the center of all of this.”

Larissa partially sat on you, her ass resting on your pelvis, probably trying to prevent you from going anywhere, “I- And you wanted me to come with?”

“Yes. I thought you could keep an eye on me.”

Larissa expression was unreadable. On one hand she didn’t want you to go at all, but your honesty now made her feel a little bit better about you going, “Let’s go.”

———

Larissa took a seat on a fallen branch near the tree that had saved you months ago. She watched you intently.

You begin circling the tree. You glanced up at the lifeless branches, biting your lip. Then you glance down to the base of the base, looking for signs of life. You find it. A small bit of a new branch was growing near the base of the trunk, only having four little leaves.

You seat yourself next to the small bit of life protruding near the dead mass of wood. You place both hands on the grass, focusing in on the life that still existed in the tree.

It felt almost felt like a fog drifted into you as the kind, gentle voice of, what you assumed to be the tree, entered your skull.

It’s nice to see you again my friend.

The voice didn’t seem as strong as it had once been. You offered a bit of your energy to the small tree. Your eyes were closed, but Larissa watched the small sapling raise from the ground until it was about six feet tall with many new branches and leaves. The new leaves unfurling in the most intricate way.

You needed answers and hoped that your offering would be enough to receive them, Why am I having these dreams? Am I going to die? What is happening at Nevermore?

He is coming. He will steal the life to fuel his own. You are destined to save us all. Use the dreams as they are glimpses into the future. Find the council of twelve cedars. They have seen all.

You didn’t want to be ungrateful for the help, but you needed more clarity than that. Please no riddles. I need help. I’m not ready to die.

People would look at me and think I’m dead. Looks can be deceiving.

I’m not a tree! I can’t just regenerate like you!

You will find a way. How is your sequoia? We like her.

Them asking about Larissa made your lips twitch, wanting to smile. She is worried about me. I promised her I would always come back… What if I don’t?

She is strong. She will be of great help to you, only if you let her. I must rest now… We will see you soon…

The fog that brought the voice now drifted away, leaving you with a new sense of clarity. You look up, smiling at the growth to the tree in front of you.

Larissa notices your alertness and wanders to your side, not rushing your interactions with the trees.

You turn and glance up to her, knowing what you have to do, “Larissa, I need to come clean about something.”

———

You explained the what the tree had told you on the way back home. Larissa’s brain was firing on all cylinders trying to make connections. Crackstone was definitely back and you needed to find the council of twelve cedars.

You had shut the front door behind you, when Larissa finally asked, “What did they mean by ‘use the dreams as they are glimpses into the future’? Did they mean the trances?”

Larissa sits down on the couch first and you pull up the ottoman, sitting in front of her, “No, Larissa… I’ve been having nightmares…”

“Well I know you hadn’t been sleeping well. I just thought it was the vines…? Right?” Larissa knew something terrible was coming. She tried to come up with something hopeful. Just hoping you would tell her she was right.

“I…” You wanted to lie. You wanted to lie so badly so Larissa wouldn’t have to know. It would make her feel so much better for you to say yes and tell her that you were having more dreams about vines.

“I wake up… And I see Rowan looking down at me and she is crying. And then I see you and you have been crying. Someone in the background says, ‘Oh, she was just too late. There was nothing to be done...’”

“Nothing to be done about what? Fern, you aren’t making any sense.”

You grab her hands, taking a deep breath before you tell her the whole truth, “I’m in a coffin, Larissa. You are all at my funeral. The dreams have been progressing. Last night I experienced my own burial.”

“No.” Larissa couldn’t except this answer. You could tell that she was growing frustrated and angry, “No. That can’t be all. There has to be a different answer.”

“It is a glimpse into the future. If I am to save us all, I need to die.”

“No.”

“Larissa…”

“We will go away somewhere. You can go back home for a while. We can go to my hometown in England. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Larissa pressed a hand to your cheek, you saw the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Larissa… I can’t.”

“No! It’s not fair! It can’t end like this! You promised…” Larissa’s lashing out was a bit of a shock to you, her final words cut deep.

You were at a loss for words. You didn’t know what to say or how to reassure her. You couldn’t reassure her.

Larissa fell into you, tears of sadness and rage taking over. You pulled her into your arms, your own tears beginning to fall. You held her there, feeling her sobs continue. It was like she had lost you already.

“You promised…” She repeated again. You hadn’t realized how much your words had reassured her.

You took her face in your hands, pulling her away from you. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, but the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. You spoke gently, “Larissa, I can’t make any promises… I will do everything in my power to be with you… So if that means I will pull myself from the grave and crawl home to you-”

“I don’t want to lose you…”

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

———

The knowledge that you were going to die was a hard pill to swallow. You felt so young and full of life. How could it all be over like that?

Larissa clung to you for the rest of the evening. Not that you minded. Hours passed by as she cried into your shirt. You ended up laying together on the couch, letting Larissa go as long as she needed. She kept trying to barter and talk you out of the situation, posing ‘what ifs’ as a way of coping. There had to be a way out of this.

You needed to be strong for her. You mustered a sense of false confidence, hoping that some would rub off on her.

“Who knows? Maybe the dream will change? I could have a different dream tonight.” Larissa didn’t respond. Her head lay on your chest, she was too focused on the rhythm of your heart.

Link to Chapter 7

[alyssajennwrites]

His Anchor, Her Reason ~ Chapter 1

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Chapter Summary - Dream uses Y/n to make Wilbur easier to manipulate. But at what cost?

Series Summary - Throughout the Years Wilbur and Y/n had stuck together. She was the anchor that kept him sane during Pogtopia. But he thought she lost her last Canon Life, he snapped and blew up L'manburg. After his death though, Y/n is found to have a faint heartbeat and is coaxed back to health by Philza and Techno. Even though Wilbur isn’t alive with her, she knows that he wouldn’t want her to give up. He’s her reason to stay alive even when things get tough. But, can she bring him back after he’s been revived?

TW: Blood, mention of injuries, death…?

A/N: … I- I had to stop writing after Wilbur tells Y/n “Close your eyes and rest my love” because I was crying so hard. Not to mention writing everyone reacting to her dying…

(Everyone loves Y/n, it doesn’t matter what side of the fight she’s on. She’s everyone’s little sister unless it’s Wilbur then she’s the love of his life)

(Everyone’s goodbyes are in bold)

༺—–Y/n POV—–༻

I won’t say life was simple, because it wasn’t. Wilbur was always focused on Pogtopia or Manberg. He was always worried about if they were gonna be found. He stressed over me going outside the protecting walls of Pogtopia. He had nightmares of what could happen.

But I was always there. I grounded him and helped him think straight. I made the nightmares go away. I gave him hope. He didn’t think irrationally while he knew I was safe. He didn’t overthink or stress as much.

I was Wilbur’s Anchor.

During the Manberg vs. Pogtopia War, Wilbur and I had been taken where everyone could see us. Dream had pulled me from Wilbur and held a knife to my side, threatening Wilbur, telling him that if he says or does the wrong thing, I would get hurt. Dream knew exactly how to control Wilbur.

But even though Wilbur had given Dream satisfactory answers and did everything he was told. Dream knew the only way to manipulate Wilbur fully, was to take away the only thing holding him together. Dream wanted what Wilbur couldn’t accomplish with me around.

So Dream did the only thing he could, he plunged the blade as far into my side it could go, as I let out a pain-filled scream. But before pulling out the blade he whispers,

“I’m so sorry my friend. I will find you again and revive you. I promise.”

He pulls out the blade with a sickening sound, and let me drop to the ground with a painful thud.

Everything began to feel distant as I began to lose more and more blood. I could hear Wilbur yelling my name, I could see him fighting whoever was holding him back. I could hear Tubbo and Tommy yelling for someone to help as they tried to fight their way towards me. I heard Techno trying to reach me as he begged Dream to stop, but like everyone else, he failed.

My eyes began to close as my body grew cold. I tried to fight the numbness, but I was losing.

“Y/n, darling, please keep your eyes open!” I could faintly hear Wilbur crying from where he had fallen to the ground. “Please, don’t leave me! I need you!”

In every story, there was that one character who had a reason to want to live. It didn’t matter what had happened to the character, they survived because their reason was stronger than death itself.

Wilbur is my Reason.

But I was so tired. I had never felt sleep be this heavy before. It was like a weight that refused to lift, no matter how strong you are. Oh, how I wish that this once, I could overcome the weight and stop Wilbur’s tears, stop Tommy and Tubbo’s screams for help, and stop Techno’s begging. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t.

༺—–Wilbur’s POV—–༻

I could feel myself slowly losing control over the rational side of my brain. Y/n is laying there, her blood pooling around her, and I’m being held back by this asshole who doesn’t seem to understand that Y/n is dying!

“Wilby, I’m tired,” Y/n says, reaching out towards me. “I’m cold and tired.”

My heart breaks, and my body gives out. Dream won’t let me go until he knows for sure I can’t help her. But she sounds so weak, so fragile. All I want to do I hold her in my arms, but I can’t. I look at the ground as tears stream down my face. I couldn’t protect the one person that means the world to me.

My head flies up as I hear Techno yell,

“No!”

And Y/n lets out yet another blood-curdling scream. Dream had stabbed her leg, causing even more blood to leave her already pale body.

“Let him go,” Dream said, turning towards the guard holding me.

The guard releases me and I immediately rush to Y/n’s side. Pulling her carefully into my arms.

“Wilbur?” She calls weakly.

“I’m here baby, I’m here.”

Techno, Tommy, and Tubbo and let up to us. Techno immediately tends to Y/n’s wound on her side, trying to stop as much of the bleeding.

“Wilbur, I’m tired,” She says, trying so hard to keep her eyes open.

Now that I’m holding her, I can feel how uneven her breaths are. She’s trying so hard to stay awake.

“It’s gonna be okay darling… Close your eyes and rest my love…” I tell her, seeing her body relax knowing that we’ll be okay.

I hum her favorite song to her, as her breathing begins to steady. I lay her in the grass before kissing her cheek. Isn’t it funny how her story ends in her favorite field of flowers?

I stand up, looking at all the faces of our friends, her friends. Tears streaming down all their faces. I can only guess what goodbyes they are silently saying.

I turn away from everyone, heading to the one place I know I shouldn’t go to. But I don’t care anymore.

༺—–3rd Person—–༻

As Wilbur walks away, each person left behind weeps for Y/n. Hoping that somehow, she could survive this. They watch as Techno does whatever he can to keep her alive.

Her breathing becomes so slow that it looks as if she isn’t breathing. Techno, who is still putting pressure on her wound begins to think that it’s too late.

“NO! NO, COME ON Y/N BREATHE FOR ME, FOR US! PLEASE WAKE UP! You’re Y/n… and I’m Techno… We never die…”

Everyone’s hearts sink as Techno falls forward into Y/n’s shoulder. The girl he has always seen as a sister is gone. He cries, no one has seen him cry and it causes everyone to lose hope.

“Please don’t leave me Y/n! Please just stay with me!” Tommy cries as he sees her still body.

Everyone silently says their goodbyes or their prayers to Y/n. Hoping that somehow, she’ll hear them.

“Come on Y/n, don’t leave me now… We still have so much left to do my friend,” Jack whispers, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Come on Y/n, you have to wake up mamasita, please don’t leave me,” Quackity says as he watches Techno try to shake you awake.

“I would travel 1,000 years back just to see you again…” Karl says, letting the tears flow freely, thinking back to all the good memories you two had.

“Silly muffin…” BadBoyHalo cries as he grips the chair in front of him for support.

“Goodbye, my princess. I’ll never forget you” Eret cries. “I guess it was never meant to be…”

Tubbo kneels next to Y/n and kisses her forehead. “Fly high with the bees Y/n.”

Sapnap looks up into the sky, imagining Y/n is smiling down on everyone, “Thank you for all the memories, I love you so much, little sis. Promise not to forget about me, okay? We’ll meet again someday…”

Niki falls to her knees hiding her face in her hands as she cries out, “Out of everyone to die, why you?”

“Fly high Y/n, fly high…” Foolish says quietly while looking into the sky.

“Goodnight darling, your work is done…” Ponk chokes out, tears pooling in his eyes.

“I’ll make that statue you always wanted… Okay, Y/n? That way no one can forget you…” Purpled says through tears, as he sinks to the floor.

“May they treat you better up there than they did down here little one…” Sam says, turning away from Y/n’s still body.

“You can’t leave me Y/n… Who will troll BadBoyHalo with me?” Skeppy laughs through the tears

“You can’t leave us yet flower… We still need you…” George says, hugging himself as he cries.

Fundy makes his way to the small group huddled around Y/n, falling next to her and taking her hand. “If you leave, who will be there to be like the mother I lost? I can’t lose another mom Y/n!”

Fundy’s cries broke everyone watching. Even Wilbur heard from where he had been walking away. He froze and slowly turned around to see everyone crying, trying to make sense of it all. Y/n was the light of the SMP, what was life gonna be like now?

Punz was silent until he watched Techno lift Y/n’s body. After that, he broke.

“You had a great life down here sis, but I bet you’ll have an even better one up there…” Punz says betweens choked sobs.

Up above, Schlatt is watching everything unfold, not able to tell what happened. He turns to see Y/n appear faintly next to him.

“Hey Y/n, it’s nice to see you up here. W-wait… No! Why are you here!?!”

But before he can get a response, Y/n vanishes from his side, and a small breath comes from her still body that Techno now carries far from everyone.

༺————————–༻

A/N: I didn’t mean for this to be more than one chapter, but I couldn’t keep writing without jumping ahead. So, you get more chapters!

[sassykattery]

Love's Web Pt. 5

Finally.

CW: Altaira is afab, uses she/her pronouns. Profanity. Vague spoilers about ATSV.

Smut scene: explicit descriptions of sex. oral (f! receiving), fingering, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, use of restraints.

Themes: Romance. Jealousy. Multiverse.

Characters: Altaira (afab oc!), Diavolo, Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Barbatos, all brothers implied, Simeon, Solomon, Miguel O'Hara

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Enjoy

Masterlist

"What?"

"Breve statuae," she answered with a bitter bite to her tone. "They mean estéril."

[Latin; short-lived statue] [Spanish; sterile]

"I..."

She gave an amused but bitter laugh. "The demons knew immediately when I came down here. It's part of my soul's makeup; I was born this way."

Miguel made the connection.

-

"She can't provide what the realm would want from the prospective royal match."

-

An heir.

"I'm sorry..." Miguel started to say.

"Don't be," she huffed, wiping away the tears. "I'm glad I know this now about you instead of... Anyway. Now you know too."

He tossed down his empty glass and scooted closer to her. "No, mi vida, please. Instead of...? What?" He placed a hand on her thigh.

[My life]

"Instead of being in love with you and then heartbroken later," she snapped quietly, wiping the relentless tears away.

"Bombón, please listen. That doesn't matter to me–"

"It does! Don't lie to me and say it doesn't! That's something you clearly wanted, and I can't give you that, ever! So don't set me up to believe it could work when two years down the line you leave me for someone who fucking can!" She barked at him, flinching away from his touch and standing abruptly. He heard the despair and heartbreak in her voice, and he scrambled to his feet to stop her as she turned away.

"Altaira! You're not listening to me!" He snapped at her. She stopped in her tracks, her arms folded, but she wouldn't look at him. "If I tell you it doesn't bother me or matter, then you have to believe me–"

"Then you're lying to yourself!" She shrieked, turning around to face him. Green fires danced around her feet, and pink ones danced at her fingertips. "You wanted–"

Miguel strode forward and grabbed her shoulders, getting in her face. His brows were pinched and eyes wide with fear as his breathing became shallow and ragged.

"What I want now is you!" She was finally silent then, looking shocked, so he continued. "Every goddamn day that I'm here, I want you! I dream about you, I hear your singing and see the way you look bareskinned in my head, I think about a future with you. I don't care about the rest because if I did, I wouldn't have you!"

She became stiff and still, her eyes wide as he continued to yell at her.

"I haven't felt an ounce of love since that last day. But ever since I met you, I feel nothing but your love, even if it's not for me. How you care so deeply about those around you, making sure everyone's needs are met while denying your own– It makes me want to take care of you. It makes me want to love you so your needs are met, because you so easily meet mine without trying."

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I d-d-don't understand–"

"I love you, Altaira. I wanted to tell you that yesterday, or at least show you," he stated desperately, maintaining intense eye contact. "I crave your time and attention, your love and care, so deeply, it hurts. And I want to give you mine so badly." He sighed and tilted her chin up, holding her jaw in his hand. His voice fell quiet, and his pitch went lower. "La luz de mis ojos."

[The light of my eyes]

"I..." she started to say but stopped, looking into his eyes. "I had that same thought for the first time last night... It's what has been eating at me." She sighed and replied, "I don't know if it's love, but I feel very strongly for you."

"That's okay," he murmured, cupping her face.

"Amorcito," he purred to her, looking her in the eyes, "May I kiss you?"

"Please," she replied.

He stepped closer to her and kissed her passionately, instantly deepening the kiss with his tongue and demanding her lips obey his whim. Quite suddenly, he was grabbing a hold of her to lift her up using his arm strength alone. She held onto him while he was kneeling down to the blanket on the sand again.

"Mi vida, cosita linda, my sweet sweet coriño," he murmured to her with a smile. "You're so precious to me."

"Do you... want to head home?" She murmured in his ear bashfully.

He chuckled in her ear. "What? Don't want to get sand everywhere?"

"Preferably no, I don't," she replied rather honestly.

"What about your roommates?"

"To hell with them," she replied, looking back into his eyes.

---

The moment they walked into the door, the demons had scattered as Miguel and Altaira stumbled around, kissing one another and tossing off shoes and jackets, leaving a trail down to her bedroom.

From the dining hall, Beel, Lucifer, and Satan all watched it unfold, brows raised and becoming very still to not attract attention.

"Well, that answers that," Satan said with a sigh.

"As long as she's happy," Lucifer reminded them as much as himself.

They went back to their tasks as the two lovebirds danced around out of sight. When they made it to her room, she slammed the door shut and hexed it and the entire room with one wave of her hand.

"What's that?" He murmured, taking her into his arms again and kissing her neck.

"Insurance," she mumbled with a smile as she threaded her hands through his hair. "We won't be disturbed."

"Mm, listo," he chuckled darkly.

[Prepared, in the sense of being clever]

The two collided in another passionate kiss, and he totally captured her in his embrace. Walking her back, when the back of his leg met the bed, he turned her around and fell onto the bed with her, settling on top of her.

"I want to see you," she rasped, her fingers dancing along the hem of his shirt. He smirked and deactivated his suit beneath the street clothes she got him. Stretching his arms up, he pulled the shirt over his head, crumpled it up, and tossed it aside. When he looked back to her, he could almost see hearts in her eyes as she drank him in. Without much thought, she reached up to his chest and gently pressed her fingers into his skin. Not only was he muscular, but he was thick. There were skinny but muscular men, but no, this one was muscular and built like a tank. If she could purr with content, she would have in that moment.

"Perfection," she whispered, her eyes tracing the lines of his muscles. He chuckled.

His hands dropped to her shirt too, silently asking for her permission. When she nodded, he helped slip her blouse over her head, leaving her in a black, see-through lace bra. He leaned forward to kiss her again while sliding his hands under her back to unhook it. She wriggled around and held her arms out for him to peel it off her body and toss it aside, too. He gazed down at her full breasts on display for him.

Kissing her again, he mumbled against her lips, "Tell me what you like or don't like."

A hot blush danced across her cheeks. "Um..."

"Shall I just find out for myself?" He asked playfully. She didn't respond then either, so he proceeded to caress her breasts, molding them in his hands and pinching her nipples between his fingers. The moment his hands made contact, she was arching into his touch. His lips curled into a smirk as he continued to kiss her, his tongue slipping into her mouth and forcing more moans out of her.

"Muy linda, amorcito, keep going," he purred to her, clearly enthralled by her. He moved lower, kissing down her neck, giving gentle bites as he went. When he was level with her breasts, he looked up at her as he began kissing them, avoiding her nipples completely and watching for her reaction. She huffed and moaned, squirming beneath him. Her legs twitched and would rub against his.

[Very cute, my little love]

"Miguel," she whimpered softly. He pulled his lips away with a pop after leaving a hickey. Looking down briefly, he smirked with satisfaction before meeting her gaze again.

"Si, cosita linda, I'm here," he murmured to her.

"Don't tease," she replied pitifully. He chuckled and caressed her sides again.

"Oh, but mi amorcito, it's so fun to tease you. You're encantador."

[Enchanting]

A whine percolated in her throat, and she looked away bashfully. He tutted her and kissed her again. After a few more moments, he pulled away and gazed down at her longingly.

"Cariño, do you want to keep going?" He asked her softly. She finally looked to him again and nodded. His hands carefully tugged down her jeans, waiting to see if she'd object, but when she wriggled with him and pulled her legs back to help, he quickly shucked them off and let them fall in a heap off the side of the bed with a thud.

Miguel gazed down at her, taking in the contors of her thighs and the matching black transparent lace panties she wore. Shifting down on the bed, he backed up to level his face with her thighs. He held one of her thighs up to begin kissing the sensitive inner flesh of it. She twitched, leaning into his touch, causing him to smile again. It surprised her when he kissed her mound over her panties, making her jolt from the sensation.

"I like a little... roughness."

Miguel stopped in his tracks, frozen by the smallest squeak of a confession from her. He side-eyed her with his nose and cheek still pressed to her thigh.

"How rough?" He asked with a slight growl.

"I mean, when you bared your fangs at me that one night, I got turned on by it."

His own brows went up, surprised by the next confession.

Oh.

Oh.

"Do you care about these?" He asked roughly, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric of her panties over her hip.

"...No," she finally answered.

His talons pierced through the material as they came out of his fingertips, and he brought his hand down in one forceful pull, shredding the fabric and ripping them completely off. Her little gasp only fed into his behavior as quickly lurched forward to lick a fat stripe with his tongue up her lower lips. It surprised her so much she started to sit up, but with his other hand, he pushed her back down and held her there. The next couple moves happened so quickly, as he buried his face into her cunt and swirled his tongue over her clit.

"Miguel!" She squealed out, half shocked, half pleased by him. A small hint of a smile started to form on her lips as her eyes closed.

"Look at me," he snapped at her. He didn't move until they fluttered open again, and then he went back to his present task: eating her out.

"Oh-oh!" She whined, his tongue attacking her clit with such force that she was well over the line for stimulation, crossing into overstimulation. He adjusted his arm placement by hanging her thighs on his shoulders and then reaching up to grab onto her breasts. Her hands instantly came to rest over his, something he quite liked seeing, much like seeing her so debauched.

"Cosita linda riddled to nothing but a mess with just my tongue. I'm intrigued to see how you'll act when my cock is buried inside of you, mi tesoro," he told her.

"Oh– oh god," she whined when his tongue dropped lower and began sinking into her needy cunt. He paused for a moment.

"Dios can't help you now, amorcito," he growled to her. He then bullied his tongue into her, caressing her slick walls with his muscle, teasing her in all the right places so that one of her hands came to rest on the top of his head, fingers curling into his locks.

[God]

"Ohhhhh no– wait– ah!" She tried to say but failed as one of his hands sank back to thumb her clit. His other hand left her chest to take hold of her hip to keep her from squirming away from his ministrations. He moaned into her pussy, eyes locked on hers as she started to grind against his mouth. The talon on his thumb gently scraped against her skin in a circle on her hip, lighting up her senses to build her release.

"Miggy, I'm close," she panted. He nearly smiled at her calling him that. "Please."

He slowed down and eased his ministrations, much to her frustration. She looked down at him with teary eyes, her lips pursed.

"Wha-"

"I need to work you open, cariño," he murmured. He pulled his mouth away and then took his dominant hand down to slip his fingers in her folds, propping himself up with his other elbow.

Her eyes widened but her head went back as she felt the first digit slip into her drenched cunt.

"What did I say, cosita linda?" He reminded her. Her head tilted forward as she looked down at him once more. He held still. "Say it," he ordered.

"Look at you," she whined.

"Buena chica," he praised her. "I know you can be good for me." She nodded, and he tilted his head down again to lick her clit lavishly as he began to slowly pump his middle finger in.

[Good girl]

"More," she rasped, the look of lust and hunger in her eyes while she peered down at him.

"Are you my good girl?" He asked her with a smirk. She nodded eagerly. "Are you going to watch me finger fuck you? Stretch you open?"

A loud moan left her lips, followed by a nod. "Please."

"Oh, so sweet, hermosa," he murmured. He added a second finger slowly. She let out a sob at feeling a little fuller now, her sweet spots being caressed by his thick fingers.

"Fuck," she whimpered.

"Yeah? You like that?" He teased her. "Where's your spot, hm?" Tilting her hips up with one hand and changing the angle of his wrist, his fingers sank deeper until they were at the hilt, and that's when she saw stars.

"There!" She cried out, throwing her head back and then struggling to look at him.

"Coño, there she is. You love this, don't you?" He purred to her when he felt her walls tighten down.

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes once more. He sat up to hover above her while keeping his digits deep inside her, pumping faster. She looked up into his eyes, the orgasmic haze taking over.

"Be good for me, amorcito. Cum for me," he murmured to her with an encouraging tone. She nodded and sat up to kiss him, pulling him flush with her while he kept fucking her on his fingers. "One more?" He asked roughly. She nodded again, and he finally sank a third in.

That was it for her, falling apart after being teased and denied it. He groaned when he felt her walls flutter and pulse around his fingers, the wet noises sounding so much more obscene now as her release dripped out. Her cries of bliss filled the room, the sound of pure satisfaction in his mins. His movements slowed to a stop before pulling his hand away, and he let her hold onto him while she calmed down. She was trembling slightly, so he kissed her forehead and whispered his words of comfort in Spanish to her. Her cheek rested against his shoulder.

-

"I wonder how humans do it?" Mammon asked, twirling his pencil while staring down at his stick drawing of him and Altaira kissing.

"Oh my Diavolo, you watch porn. You know how," Asmo answered mockingly.

The youngest six brothers sat around the living room, trying not to listen to the screams, thuds, and moans from down the hall. There may have been a spell to keep them out, but that didn't keep the noises in.

"Oi! N-No–"

Satan rolled his eyes. "Don't bother lying. We know you do. I think what you're asking is how does Altaira do it?"

"I wonder if she tastes as good as she smells," Beel blurted out. Everyone except Belphie slowly turned their heads to look at the sixth born.

"I mean... surely, yeah?" Satan asked. Everyone had a blush building on their cheeks. Belphie rolled his eyes.

"You all are insufferable," the youngest mumbled.

"Regardless, you all would do well to find something else to do than loaf about here," Lucifer snapped as he walked in.

"Don't even, Lucifer. We know you're just as mad," Mammon quipped smugly. "We're all upset that we–

Knock knock

"Oh no–" Lucifer spun on his heels to quickly walk to the front door before it could open.

"Crap, is that...?" Levi asked nervously.

"Yeah, uh, I think we should all take Lucifer's advice and go," Satan said quickly, closing his book and dashing to his room.

"I think it's him. Make yourself scarce," Mammon urged his other brothers out of the living room and out of sight.

"Just a moment!" Lucifer called out, trying to hex the door before it opened. Before he could complete the spell, Barbatos opened it to reveal Diavolo on the other side.

"Good evening Lucifer," Diavolo chirped to the eldest. The Avatar made it to the door before Diavolo could step inside, causing the prince to raise a brow.

"Good evening. Did you need something?" Lucifer asked a little hastily.

"Ah, well, I wanted to talk with you about some RAD events, and then Altaira about our monthly chess game. Is she here? Can I come in?" Diavolo replied with a smile.

"Now... isn't the best time," Lucifer stated. "We're busy." Instantly, Diavolo saw through this and frowned.

"What is it?" The Demon Lord asked in a lower pitch and then heard a loud bang. "Is something going on? Where's Altaira?"

Before Lucifer could fully stop him, the prince walked into the House and was immediately bombarded with the smells and sounds of what was transpiring down the hall. His eyes widened, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Lucifer and Barbatos stood at his backside and watched how he clenched his fists, his back tensing up even beneath his coat.

"I– I have to go," Diavolo stated, turning on his heel and blowing past the other two demons as he dashed out of the door.

-

"Better?" He mumbled to her softly.

"Yeah... I can keep going," she offered. He hummed with approval.

"Can I do something?" He asked very quietly. She chirped her agreement in reply. While staring into his eyes, she felt his hands take a hold of hers, and then both of her hands into one of his, as he pulled her arms up, stretching well above her head, almost to the point of straining. She held her hands there as he pulled his away, but then felt something slick and soft wrap around her wrists, binding them together. After tugging a little, she realized her wrists were tied to something else, maybe the headboard, and was completely restrained.

"Oh," she whispered when she realized what was happening.

"Is this okay, bombón?" She nodded, and he kissed her forehead. "Let me know if it gets to be uncomfortable. Just... lay back and enjoy it."

Sliding back off the bed, he came to his feet and began to shimmy down his lounge pants and boxers. While he stepped out of them and crawled back onto the bed, he caught a glimpse at Altaira, who was staring openly at his cock, fully erect and leaking precum. She admired its thickness and veins running over it, how it had just the slightest curve with a reddish flushed tip. He gave a small smirk as he positioned himself between her legs, propping himself up on one elbow as he laid himself on her. His hand took hold of her thigh and wrapped it over his hip, with her following the same motion on her own with her other thigh.

"Ready, cosita linda?" He murmured to her, his free hand fisting his cock to pump it slowly, hissing as he rubbed the tip against her wet clit and spreading her slick around. She gave a small moan and nodded, her hands and arms flexing, as if she wanted to touch him. Her gaze flickered down to where he held his cock, and noticing this, he brought her hips up with one hand so she could see it. He watched her reaction as she watched him slowly sink his cock into her pussy. The tip stretched her nicely, rewarding him with a sweet moan.

With a slow thrust, the rest of his cock started to push into her, and her arms and hands flexed again as he stretched her out. Tears were already gathering in her eyes again when she looked up at him.

"You like that?" He teased, but his own voice sounded strained, as if he was trying to hold himself together too.

"I love it," she whimpered. "Please, take me."

He groaned and thrusted again to completely bury himself deep inside her cunt, and it had her crying out to him wordlessly. But she wasn't the only one losing it, as Miguel whimpered "Oh fuck" over and over. He reached up and placed a hand over her two bound wrists, holding her there and using the leverage to grab onto as he began rocking his hips with small thrusts, to help her get used to his size.

"So tight, cariño, but you take me so well," he groaned to her. "Fuck, you feel amazing."

"M-Miguel–" she whined again. He kissed her passionately on the lips, his tongue bullying in to find hers again. His other arm slid under her to hold her close to him as he started to deepen his thrusts, dragging them out more to hit all her sensitive spots.

"Does that feel good, mi vida?" He cooed.

"Y-Yes," she whispered. He admired the red blush on her neck, chest, and ears. But the moment she clenched down on his length, he gasped and gave a hard thrust into her, growling softly in her ear.

"D-Don't," he grunted. She did it again, and he squeezed her tighter with his brows pinched in an angered glance. "Cariño."

"Yes?" She cooed back at him. "Just trying to make you feel good."

"I told you, my love, you feel amazing," he huffed. "But it's too much."

She became still and looked at him with wide eyes. "I'm... sorry."

"No, not in a bad way, tesoro," he tried to console her.

"Are you just... sensitive?" She then began to rub her legs against his, occasionally squeezing her thighs around his hips. He grunted again.

"A bit," he finally answered.

"That's okay," she murmured sweetly. "I don't mind. But just don't hold back from me. I want to see all of you." She saw the hesitancy in his eyes, and so she arched into him to get his attention again. "If we're going to be intimate, we have to trust each other. You know I'm sensitive too."

He met her gaze again before sighing. "Don't say I didn't warn you." There was a pause. "I told you I'm sensitive to light, but all of my senses are heightened."

"Okay," she whispered.

He kissed her again softly before taking hold of her bound wrists in one hand and taking hold of one of her thighs to push it up to his shoulder with the other. She whimpered quietly at being stretched like this, completely helpless to him. He started to move again with gentle thrusts that turned harsher, and his own grunts turned louder, more guttural, the further they went. They kept their eyes locked on one another, increasing the level of intimacy in the moment by the second.

When she clenched around him again after hitting a particularly sweet spot, they both moaned sweetly, and he held onto her tighter and thrusted that much harder. More curses in Spanish fell from his lips.

"Miguel," she whined to him, and he perked up at the way she said his name. "You feel so good."

"You too, mi amor, so good for me," he purred to her, his voice coming up in pitch as his pleasure started to intensify. The grips of his hands on her wrists and thigh were increasing drastically as he tried to maintain control until she noticed what was happening.

She called to him again. "Miguel." When he looked up at her, she murmured, "Let go. Let me have all of you."

The softness to her tone, the way her eyes sparkled, and the sincerity in everything she did in that moment got to him.

"Mierda," he swore. "Take me then. Take all of me," he grunted as he snapped his hips, fucking her roughly. Her moans became cries from how good it felt. He shoved her back into the mattress and changed the angle of both their hips to fuck her deeper, pummeling that sweet spot he found earlier.

[Shit]

"Ahh! F-Fu-uhhck!" She screamed, her whole body lighting up with pleasure as her orgasm hit her like a bullet train. Her walls clamped on his cock like the tightest vice and milked him for all he had. His moans turned to whimpers, pitched higher in his register as he released deep inside her. There was no resisting how he felt then, he felt like he had entered heaven for just a moment, and it was so intense that he didn't realize he had sank his teeth into her neck and dug his fangs in. His warm cum filled her, and it served to extend her bliss longer as she rode out her orgasm. Over the course of a minute, she had gone from a writhing, screaming mess to a subdued shell, her mind lost somewhere else.

Miguel squeezed her tightly and murmured, "Are you alright?" When he heard no reply, he sat up and saw the dazed look in her eyes. "Altaira?"

When tarantulas mate, the male restrains the female by holding her upper body stretched upward, with hooks on the male's legs to keep her fangs at bay. This prevents the female from injuring or killing the male. During this restraint process, the female goes into a sort of trance as the male mates with her, and it lasts for a few minutes.

Thanks for reading <3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @itsmeninerz @attic-club-sandwich

And yes, he whimpers.