#His face is designed to draw us in you heard it here first

[elodieunderglass]

hi! i was just wondering if you’re getting a piece of this pie. https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/voidrealmminis/rise-of-the-eldertubbies?ref=profile_saved_projects_live

Oh my goodness! Haha thanks for showing me! And no, of course, this guy is still selling my dream while claiming it’s totally nothing to do with me. I hadn’t heard about it so thank you.

For those just joining us, here is the saga of the elder teletubbies:

1. in 2017 I posted a dream I had on Tumblr. In the dream I discovered that the childish teletubbies shown on BBC’s Teletubbies are merely the children of a species that grows up to be forest cryptids as adults. The post contained a detailed character description explaining how the children’s simple antennae become more complex antlers; their coats become thicker hair; their eldritch screens are unknowable; here, look:

The adult Teletubbies have more branching, complex antlers and shaggy coats. They are less brightly coloured. They are terrifyingly large. Their strangely human faces, emerging from the thick fur, are unquestionably adult; remote, serene, reproachful. Their television screens are glitchy, esoteric and unknowable. They are cryptids whose public exploitation has undermined their rarity and their strange, alien dignity.

That’s a pretty clear description.

2. The post quickly gained attention and many people drew art, made sculptures, designed in-depth character concepts, and even made DnD character sheets and entries with detailed notes. It was 2017. The post got over 90k notes. It had an extremely clear description of the cryptid in it. This wasn’t at all obscure.

3. The post and four pieces of the concept art, including the first piece by were screencapped and posted on r/tumblr. The post included this art by the now-deactivated @finoliatav which is, I think, the first piece of art. Most screencaps don’t show that it’s animated! Once you see it you can no longer pretend that any more work needs to be done in designing these characters, really - they’re all variations on a very clear theme.

4. A guy called Jars started drawing the BBC Teletubbies as adult Teletubbies. He noted on Reddit that his inspiration for the first one was the r/tumblr post but after that, he considered it entirely his own creative work. He drew each of the 4 BBC Teletubbies as adults using my character description and wrote a little story about how his character had stumbled upon them in the woods. He’s a good artist and his work went viral on Reddit and instagram. Those places being separate from Tumblr by the walls of the enclosure, they quickly believed the Jars was being highly original and praised him for it.

5. jars got carried away by his fame and started merchandising for all he’s worth. He’s selling elder teletubbies placemats. He got a collaborator to help him make and sell plushies.

6. Plushies of my character design applied to BBC characters. Jars sells them. To people. Who buy them. He sells these.

7. I think this is like… his job.

8. It has been years of this. I don’t think he has actually come up with anything else to sell by himself. But given that he now has millions upon millions of views on platforms I don’t use, let alone dominate (Instagram, YouTube, Reddit, TikTok) he seems to have fully subscribed to the idea that this is his THING.

9. After a while I wrote him a friendly email expressing that since my original dream was very much about discomfort with how the teletubbies were being exploited, I didn’t mind him selling his own art but that I wasn’t happy with him selling plushes based on my writing.

10. He wrote back along the lines of it all being his original intellectual property and absolutely nothing to do with me, etc, so jog on and don’t interfere.

11. I’m not entirely sure where the original intellectual property is when taking BBC characters and drawing them according to someone else’s detailed description of how to “evolve” them (branching antlers, shaggy coats, eldritch screens, serene adult human faces) especially having drawn them after seeing four separate detailed reference photos to base your own drawings on; especially when they’re the existing BBC characters from the show and not even your own. Like, Jars, you were given an entire detailed brief, several sets of references, an entire concept and a television show: the only artistic choices made here were to pick up your own personal pen and do the drawing. You have never deviated from my description, which you did not come up with yourself in any way. But okay Jars. You did some real intellectual heavy lifting here, this is Intellectual Property suddenly, and I guess this is your day job!

12. I myself actually have a day job, am capable of generating lots of other original material just for funsies, have never asked you guys for money, and I’m not generally huge jerk I don’t think. Also, I’m uncomfortable but have never been clear on how to stop him - I don’t think I can. So I don’t do much about this, apart from occasionally scream with hilarity with you guys about it.

13. Like this is the opposite of Goncharov. This is a guy making his wage on a 2017 tumblr collaborative shitpost insisting that this is the beautiful fruit of his only brain. And millions of people believe him.

14. There are now YouTube documentaries with millions of views and TikTok lore about Jars, and his lore, the Elder Teletubbies, which apparently he invented. People are making their wage talking about the history of Jars and his teletubbies lore. These documentaries are, if you can’t tell, not especially well-researched, as it is not difficult to find the original elder teletubbies art on the internet, which is all timestamped. Occasionally hilarious people from Tumblr point this out in the comments (thank you, you guys are hilarious) but the juggernaut is unstoppable!

15. Jars is now, apparently, doing a kickstarter to raise money for some kind of DnD sheets using the grown up BBC teletubbies.

16. I will point out that tumblr made and played with DnD teletubbies in 2017 for free and nobody had to pay $3000, but again. The juggernaut is unstoppable.

I have never, ever known what to do about this guy.

I have always been open to advice but genuinely never been able to articulate how it “damages” me, apart from ethical discomfort about how much I hate my writing being monetised by other people, especially when it was about my discomfort with exploitation. The juggernaut is unstoppable though. He fully intends to get thousands of dollars from this. He almost certainly will!

[koiiiji]

author's note ; another day another fic, i feeding my our delusional ass with... yes, i love cold, emotionally unavailable huge man, and?!

starring ; shingen and kid!reader, shintaro being ass as usual in past 2 chapters

the room was dark, illuminated only by the faint, pale light filtering through the paper walls. Yamazaki Shingen sat cross-legged in his kimono, his massive, tattooed frame a shadow in the silence. his eyes were empty, unfocused, lost somewhere far away — a man trapped in his own quiet despondency. once-fearsome leader of the Yamazaki syndicate had withdrawn into himself.

yet, he heard the door slide open, the soft creak breaking the oppressive stillness of the room. at first, he didn’t bother to react. another servant, no doubt, or one of his men, scurrying to avoid the weight of his silence. but then, the sound of small footsteps, lighter than he expected, drew closer. a tiny figure darted in and out of the shadows, barely making a noise, yet somehow tugging at the edges of his attention.

you sneacked the room without hesitation, you were playing some sort of game — hide and seek, perhaps. energy radiating through the heavy stillness like a burst of sunlight. you had been playing with Shingen’s men, even though they hardened by years of servitude, and hadn’t the patience to play properly, so they had likely just told you to hide, hoping to redirect your boundless energy. and now, here you were, running toward your father, blissfully unaware of the gloom that surrounded him.

he frowned, not quite understanding what this strange, fearless presence was doing so close to him. he hadn’t recognized you at first. so small, so out of place in this cold, dreary room. why was a child allowed in his quarters?

but then something clicked in his head.

eyes.

oh, you are his kid

with a soft grunt of effort, you clambered onto his lap, tugging at the fabric of his kimono with your tiny hands. you wriggled around until you were perched comfortably on his knee, giggling to yourself as if this was all part of the game.

Shingen remained still, his massive hands resting idly at his sides. he didn’t push you away, didn’t tell you to leave. he just… let you be.

you poked at the intricate designs on his tattoos, tracing the dark lines with your small fingers. tigers and all patterns that once symbolized power and fear were nothing more than curious drawings to you, something to explore. to you, they were just part of him.

before he could fully process the moment, the door slid open again. Shintaro, entered the room, sharp eyes immediately falling on the small child perched on Shingen’s lap. his expression hardened in a flash.

“what are you doing here?” Shintaro barked, his voice slicing through the room. his usual composed demeanor faltered, clearly irritated at the sight of you. he moved quickly toward you, reaching out to pull you away from Shingen’s unmoving form. “this is no place for you to —”

before Shintaro could finish, Shingen’s voice rumbled, low and firm, cutting through the tension like a dull blade.

“she’s just a kid.”

it was more of a grunt than a full sentence, but it stopped Shintaro in his tracks. he glanced at his brother, surprise flickering in his eyes. Shingen’s face remained impassive, his gaze never leaving the far wall, but there was no mistaking the subtle command in his words. it was the first sign of awareness — of anything — Shintaro had seen from him in a long time.

for a moment, Shintaro hesitated, unsure of what to make of the situation. Shingen, who had barely acknowledged the existence of his children before, was now… allowing this? a small girl, climbing all over him as though she belonged there, and Shingen didn’t push her away, didn’t scold her, didn’t so much as flinch.

Shintaro’s brow furrowed, his hand still hovering near you, but he slowly pulled it back. he wasn’t used to seeing his brother like this, and he didn’t quite know how to respond. Shingen had retreated so deeply into himself that any kind of engagement felt foreign — alien.

you, oblivious to the tension between the adults, tugged at Shingen’s sleeve once more, small fingers tracing the patterns of his tattoos. you giggled softly, as if the weight of the room didn’t affect you in the slightest.

Shingen’s large hand twitched, barely perceptible, as though considering whether or not to move. but in the end, he did nothing, letting you play with the fabric of his sleeve. his expression remained unchanged, but the fact that he hadn’t brushed you off was enough for Shintaro to take note.

after a long pause, Shintaro sighed, the sharpness in his eyes dulling. he stepped back, crossing his arms as he took in the scene — his towering, silent brother, and the small, curious girl who had somehow wormed her way into his lap without a word of protest.

“i see,” Shintaro muttered, almost to himself.

Shingen didn’t respond. he remained quiet, still trapped in the cocoon of his own thoughts.

and in the quiet of the room, Shingen let his daughter stay.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Do you know that I love you? (do you know that you shouldn't?)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

warnings: jason's injured and there's blood but it's not too graphic, except that it describes giving stitches, sometimes people get mean when they get scared, biting like a misbehaved dog etc etc

a/n: there is a fatigue seeping into me that I fear is building a home inside my chest :) how are we all doing this evening do we like this are we excited for the dc event announcement on sunday

You hear another muffled curse from the other side of the bathroom door, Jason's voice tight with pain. The sound makes you press your lips together firmly, your jaw tense as you stand in the hallway of your shared home, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed.

"Jason -" you start again, but his voice cuts you off.

"No."

"Let me help you," you continue, an exasperated sort of fatigue in your voice. Somewhere in your kitchen, you know that the clock is ticking well past 4am. 

"You don't need to be here for this," Jason says stubbornly and you scowl at the closed door. You wonder, for just a moment, if he locked it - or if he simply trusts you enough to know that you won't go where you're not wanted.

"You can't put stitches in our back on your own," you say stubbornly, and a sigh is heard through the barrier between you as you thump your head back against the wall to stare at the dark ceiling. But then the door swings open slowly and Jason's face appears, haloed by the light pouring out of the bathroom.

"Help me, then," he says tightly, and you draw yourself up to a full stand, moving past him and into the small space. Jason sits on the edge of the bathtub and faces the wall while you rummage around the first aid kit, rolling his shoulders and wincing at the rushed, messy bandaging covering the slash across his back.

You don't say anything, of course - there's no need for an I told you so in a space like this, but you do click your tongue disapprovingly when you crouch behind him to pull back the bloody gauze.

"You don't need to be so stubborn about this, you know," you say softly as you begin to clean the damaged skin. There's no attack in your voice, no righteous demand that he become something that he's not.

It's just love… and the patience that comes with it. 

Jason sighs at your words, though, like he's being tried in court and found guilty. He shifts, his fists clenching as he hangs his head and stares down at the white porcelain of the bathtub and the bloody bandages that you've thrown in next to his feet, the red staining everything that it touches.

"I don't want you to have to see me like this," he says eventually, a tired sort of resignation in his voice. You huff out a breath.

"I've seen you dead, Jason," you point out flatly. "I'm not sure why you think this would be worse."

"Don't joke about it," he snaps before he can stop himself, something mean and angry flashing through him before regret begins to wash over him.

"Why do you think I'd joke about loving you?" You ask it quietly, pressing a needle to his skin as you begin to put him back together, as you smooth over wounds and blur out the scars that he's sure would bloom there without your help.

Jason sits quietly, lets his head hang as you work and listens to the slow rhythm of your breathing as you move your hands across his back, as you love him in the only way you know how.

"Sometimes, I just don't know what to do with you," he admits, his voice low and wavering. That makes you pause, makes your hands freeze for just a moment before they continue, slower now than before. 

"I suppose that was going to happen eventually," you offer softly. "Neither of us are really who we used to be… I'm not sure we can, I don't know, fall into step with each other the way we did before…"

"Before I died?" Jason supplies. You tap him on the back of the head with your knuckle in a reprimanding sort of way - just like you used to do when you were kids.

"Before we grew up, I was going to say," you explain dryly, and Jason laughs a bit, a huffed-out breath that he can't really find in himself to stop. You roll your eyes rather fondly and a quiet settles over the two of you, nothing but your breath mixing with his and the faint rustling of your working hands filling the space as he settles. 

But then you finish Jason's stitches, tying off the thread and taping down a new, clean bandage before tapping him on the shoulder lightly to let him know that you're finished. He swings one leg up and over so that he's straddling the edge of the tub and watches as you stand, wincing and letting your knees pop.

"You should've said something," he chastises gently as you lift one of your own legs into the tub, straddling the porcelain to sit face-to-face with him and let your knees bump against his.

"I don't mind," you say easily, and a frown tugs at Jason's lips.

"See, that's what I mean," he murmurs, smoothing his hands across your thighs to rub gentle circles over your knees where he's sure the tiled floor had been digging into your skin. "Sometimes I just don't know what to do with you."

"What do you mean?" You ask softly. Jason looks away, staring at the blood-soaked bandages sitting in the tub. You follow his gaze, of course, just enough to see what he's staring at and then look back at him with your head cocked curiously to the side.

"Sometimes you act like you don't care at all," he says flatly, his hands tightening their grip on your knees.

"When I act like I care, you act like it's killing you," you point out gently, watching as Jason's lips turn down into a scowl as he watches his own blood drip towards the drain.

"Sometimes I think it is," he says dully. You reach to brush a few of his curls back, his hair unruly and mussed from the night as sweat sticks to the strands.

"Then what do you want me to do, baby?" you ask quietly, letting your fingernails scratch over his scalp rhythmically as he sighs and closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

"I want you to let me see you," he replies honestly. "I want you to let me here there for you."

"Not sure you should be saying that," you respond easily. "Something about living in a glass house and all that."

"What do you mean?"

"You locked yourself in the bathroom to bleed out alone so that I wouldn't see it," you point out. There's no accusation in your voice, no cold, hard edge or betrayal to be heard. But Jason's shoulders tense all the same as he opens his eyes and takes your hand in his to press kisses across your knuckles. "You don't need to protect me from yourself," you continue gently. 

"Neither do you," he retorts, the same kindness and love coming back to you in waves.  

"I'm just…" you begin, letting your eyes flick around the bathroom as you feel yourself suddenly under scrutiny. "I'm trying to be there for you."

"That's my job," Jason says firmly. "You gotta let me be there for you." You sigh at that, something long-suffering and loving as you look back at him and lift a brow. 

"When are you going to learn that I love you?" You ask softly, and Jason looks at you like you've pointed a gun to his chest.

"When are you going to learn that you shouldn't?"

"I don't think you get to make that decision for me, Jay," you offer with a shrug. "I think I've earned the right to decide my own life." He sighs at that, looking at you like he loves you too much and doesn't know what to do with it, before he reaches for you.

"C'mere, baby," he says it quietly, a whisper pressed against you as he wraps his arms around your waist and hauls you into him, letting your thighs rest overtop of his as you settle into his lap. "You know I love you, too, right?" he asks softly, his lips pressing kisses over your cheeks.

"I know, Jay," you respond soothingly, tangling your hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Maybe we'd both… maybe we'd learn a thing or two from showing it more, hm?" Jason laughs at that, burying his face into your neck as he sighs and rocks the two of you back and forth gently.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" he offers, his voice muffled as his lips press against your skin. You tap your knuckles to his head in another chastising manner, but you also smile as you lean down to kiss the crown of his head. 

"I wouldn't mind that," you say quietly, and when Jason lifts his head to look at you, there's no hint of joking in your face. You smooth a hand over his cheek and he lilts his head to place a delicate kiss on your palm while you watch him, your eyes big and loving in a way that makes him feel a bit naked. 

"Yea?" his voice wavers as he asks, his hesitation festering inside him, but you just smile in that gentle, loving way of yours and smooth over the crease between his brows with your thumb.

"Yea," you say easily. "You're not hard to love, Jay. It just takes a bit of practice for us to learn how to give that love."

"And you'll stay with me long enough for me to learn?" 

"Long enough for us to learn," you correct gently, leaning into him to kiss him softly. "And hopefully a whole lot longer than that." He laughs against you at that, chasing your lips as his arms wrap around your waist a bit tighter.

"Well," he says as he pulls away just enough to let his lips brush against yours. "I'm sure as fuck not letting go." You laugh at that, something loud and honest and a bit more carefree than either of you are used to.

"Good," you say easily. "We'll do it together, then."

[fratttymatty]

Southern Shift

(All characters are 18+)

Maddox had never been much of a believer in magic. Sure, he’d seen the viral videos, heard the wild stories, but he figured they were all some sort of elaborate hoaxes or clever editing tricks. His life had always been a straightforward one: an 18-year-old guy from a fairly progressive city on the coast. He was used to being who he was—a proud gay man, confident and comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t fit in with every crowd, but that was fine by him. He had his friends, his passions, and a future in design and art lined up after graduation.

But when a strange e-mail showed up one Wednesday evening, everything Maddox knew about his life was thrown into chaos.

It came from a source called TrueVision Enterprises, a company he’d never heard of, with a subject line that read: "Your Destiny Awaits — Experience a New Life." Curiosity got the best of him. What could possibly go wrong?

It was a poorly-written message, vague but cryptic. “Ever wonder what it’s like to be someone else? To experience a life you’ve only imagined? Click here to find out.”

A grin spread across his face. Who wouldn’t be intrigued? Maybe it was a prank. Maybe it was a scam. But it was better than staring at the same four walls all night. So, against better judgment, he clicked the link.

The screen went black for a moment, then flashed with a blinding light.

When Maddox opened his eyes, everything had changed.

It wasn’t just the environment—though the suburban neighborhood around him looked radically different from his usual cityscape. No, it was something far deeper, more visceral. He felt it in his bones, in his muscles, in the very way he was standing.

Looking down, he saw the first signs. His body had undergone a remarkable transformation. Gone was his lean but soft physique, the figure of a 5'11" city guy with a slight build. In its place was something else entirely: a lean, toned build with defined muscles in his arms, chest, and legs. His body felt stronger, like he could throw a punch without thinking about it, or lift heavy things without breaking a sweat. But what really caught his attention was his height.

He blinked, staring down at himself. He was taller. Not just a little taller, but by a significant amount. Maddox used to be 5'11", but now, standing at 6'3", he had a commanding presence. His legs stretched out longer than he remembered, and the new height gave him an imposing posture. He’d never been the tallest in his group, and now he towered over everyone, even the people around him who seemed much bigger and broader than he remembered.

His new height felt natural, like it had always been this way. But it also made him feel powerful, larger-than-life in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

He glanced at the house around him. It was large, a two-story place with wide windows, a white picket fence, and an immaculately-kept lawn. The interior was similarly pristine, and the smell of fresh wood and leather filled the air. This wasn't his apartment. This wasn’t anywhere he recognized. But something about the space felt... familiar, as though it was his home now.

He staggered, momentarily disoriented, and made his way to a nearby mirror.

What he saw almost made him fall over.

A stranger stared back at him. His face was familiar, but only in the way you recognize a reflection in a window before you really focus on it. His hair—blonde, curly, and wild—was cut into a mullet that reached just past the top of his neck, the ends flaring out like a halo of unruly curls. He didn’t remember ever styling his hair that way, yet the new version of himself seemed to suit it effortlessly. The loose curls framed his jawline, drawing attention to the newly defined muscles there.

His eyes, once a sharp hazel, had turned a lighter shade of blue. His expression was different too—stoic, even smug, like someone who knew exactly who he was and had no time for nonsense.

Then he looked down at himself, taking in his outfit. A plaid, button-up shirt—tight across his chest but still comfortable—clung to his muscular frame. He wore a worn leather belt with a large, shining buckle, a pair of jeans that fit just right and boots that seemed made for walking through dirt. And of course, a tan, weathered cowboy hat sat perched on top of his head.

Everything about his appearance screamed “redneck,” yet it was as if he'd always been this way. As if this transformation was simply an outward reflection of who he was now.

He stared at his reflection, utterly speechless, before hearing a voice from behind him.

"Adam, honey, come on down here! Dinner’s ready!"

He froze. Adam? That wasn’t his name. His name was Maddox.

But when he tried to say it—when he opened his mouth to speak—it wasn’t "Maddox" that came out.

"Yessir, mom," the new voice said, gruff and confident, with a drawl he didn't recognize. It was his voice, but it felt... wrong.

Before he could think further, his feet carried him toward the stairs. Every movement felt more natural, more instinctual. He didn’t have to think about walking anymore; his body just moved.

The moment he stepped into the kitchen, he was greeted by two older figures: a tall man with a thick beard and a sun-worn face, and a woman with perfectly-coiffed blonde hair and a warm, motherly smile.

"Adam, you hungry, baby?" The woman—his new "mother"—asked in a thick Southern accent, as she placed a plate of fried chicken and mashed potatoes on the table.

"Yeah, looks good, mom." His voice was smooth, authoritative, and familiar. It was like he had always talked this way.

The man, his new father, patted him on the back. "Atta boy. Gotta keep up your strength if you’re gonna help me with the truck this weekend."

Adam nodded, suddenly feeling an unfamiliar rush of excitement at the thought of working on a truck. "Sounds good, pops."

His father gave him a knowing look. "Glad to hear it. Gotta be ready to defend this house. Keep it in shape." There was a pause, and then a sly smirk crossed his face. "Though, I gotta say, I’m more worried about that little gay friend of yours. What’s his name again? Cody, right?"

Adam’s heart skipped. Cody was his best friend. But the way his father said it—the sneer in his voice—felt wrong. His thoughts tried to resist, but the tug of new instincts, of new feelings, pushed him to respond in a way he would have never before.

"Yeah, Cody’s a nice guy," Adam said, his voice dripping with casual disdain, "but man, he’s just… different, y’know? He’s always talking about stuff I don’t care about, like his art or whatever. He’s not really my kind of guy. Dude’s all wrapped up in his feelings and thinks he’s some kind of big thinker. He’s just not built for the real world."

Adam laughed and shrugged, the words flowing out like they were second nature. It felt good, somehow, to say it out loud. The Maddox part of him—the part that would’ve fiercely defended Cody, that would’ve fought anyone who insulted him—seemed like a distant memory.

His father chuckled, clearly approving. "Well, I’m glad to hear you’re making better choices, son. You don't need someone like that holding you back."

"Exactly," Adam said with a grin. "I’ve got enough on my plate, worrying about football, work, and, you know, my future. Guys like Cody? They just complicate things."

The following day, Adam found himself at a school that seemed to be from another world. The high school was old, with large wooden bleachers in the gym and the faint smell of tobacco in the air. Kids in cowboy boots and trucker hats roamed the halls, and there was an air of casual arrogance in the way they all carried themselves.

When he walked into the classroom, heads turned. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, but now, standing at his new, imposing height of 6'3", Adam felt like he belonged. He loomed over the students around him, towering above them with a sense of superiority that felt right, even though it was still so new. His height made him feel like the guy everyone respected—or, if they didn’t, they at least stayed out of his way.

"Hey, Adam," a guy called from the back of the room. He had a thick jaw and a cocky grin. "How’s it going, man?"

"Good, bro," Adam replied, easily slipping into the role of the guy everyone wanted to hang out with. The guy who didn’t care about anything except his truck, his friends, and his future. A life of simple pleasures, uncomplicated by anything like "progressive politics" or "diversity."

But the most striking change came when he spotted her in the hallway. Emily.

She was the cheerleading captain. Blonde, athletic, and with a smile that lit up the entire school. Adam hadn’t expected to feel such a strong pull toward her, but as he watched her walking toward him, he felt his chest puff out with pride, the feeling of possession he didn’t quite understand.

"Hey, Adam," Emily called, giving him a wink. She wore her cheer uniform—tight, short, and red—and looked every bit the picture of what his new life was supposed to be. "You ready for the game on Friday? I’ve got your back, big guy."

"Always," Adam said, his voice dropping an octave. He felt confident, even cocky, as he walked toward her, putting an arm around her waist as they headed to class together. She was his girlfriend, after all, and that was just the way things were now. The idea of a different reality, a different version of himself, felt so distant.

By the time school ended, Adam was fully in his new life. Football practice had been intense, but Adam had breezed through it. As a starting wide receiver, he was the star of the team. He felt invincible on the field, his new body moving with strength and agility. The other players had all been high-fiving him, slapping his back, calling him "the beast."

And as for Emily? She was always by his side, chatting him up with that sweet, familiar smile. They talked about the weekend plans—probably a party at Brad's, a bonfire down by the lake—and Adam felt perfectly at home.

When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Adam had only one thought: This is my life now. He was Adam, the 6'3", football-playing redneck with a cheerleader girlfriend and a world of opportunities at his feet.

The old Maddox, the artist from the city, was gone.

And Adam? Adam was everything he’d ever needed to be.

[heartsforseo]

Straw hats with a member/ S/o who still sleeps with plushies.

A/n: so I’ve been gone for almost 2 months but shhh I got some motivation now😼😼. PLUS I got this inspo from reading something somewhere. SO TY FOR GIVING ME THE THINGY TO WRITE AGAIN. request=open requested: <yes> <no> wc:970 ft: the straw hats (excluding chopper) warning: ??

⭑Luffy honestly wouldn’t care. If he ever crashes into your room (girls' room) and sleeps on your bed, he’d even shove the stuff toys away.

⭑When he sees your pouting/sad face he’d be clueless and continue whining for you to hop on the bed with him.

⭑When you finally told him why you were mad, he just tilted his head and let out a LONG sigh

⭑Would use his gum-gum abilities and get all your stuffy back in the bed (while groaning. He does NOT want to share)

⭑Speaking of sharing, why coddle a plushie when you have Luffy? Would def get jealous and maybe even tear one of them.

⭑P.s. He did…

⭑Zoro, just like Luffy, couldn’t be bothered. He’d probably think of it as a design at first. I mean, a pirate sleeping with plushies??? That’s rare

⭑But as the creator said, everyone in the crew is a weird person. So, here you are—in your room. Shock and in awe.

⭑Believe it or not, Zoro was sleeping with one of your plushies (that looked like a reindeer…)

⭑He had always denied sleeping next/with them. (Only if you convinced him enough, he’d let out a groan but still follow)

⭑You’d have to tease him about it now. I mean, Zoro sleeping before you??? Shocking with that 3 hrs sleep schedule.

⭑And a certain chef might’ve heard what you’ve said and used it against a certain swordsman…

⭑Nami, would even tax the poor plushies:~((

⭑Jokes aside, she’ll think of it as cute and nice decorations. They’re cuddly, colorful, and good for distress.

⭑But sometimes there’s a limit. She couldn’t even sleep on her OWN bed cuz of how many you got.

⭑Would roll her eyes when she saw you pout and give you a 35% discount.

⭑To help you get “rid” (as she says) of plushies, she’ll take a mini tangerine and place it on her work desk.

⭑Now she talks to it after dinner, drawing the map of the world.

⭑Ussop I’d say would make a story about how he once traveled to a stuffed toy island.

⭑Everything there was colorful, soft, and cuddly! He’d even point at one of your plushies and say he met them on the island!

⭑Your plushie would just stare and stare and stare… Until Ussop had to let out a fake cough and do his other stuff.

⭑He’d ask for your permission to get one of your plushies for support. (You said yes ofc).

⭑Now, whenever he has to modify Nami’s weapon/ whenever he’s alone from the group—he’ll hold the small plushie tightly and hug it, waiting for ideas to pop up.

⭑Sanji the beigest of them all. I could see Sanji:

⭑1) getting jealous about it. You have a whole husband in front of you. And you’re picking the plushie to cuddle…THAN HIM?!

⭑Would give the plushie dirty stares (especially if it was given by someone not him/by his crew)

⭑When you’re doing something else, he’d wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your neck.

⭑He’d give the plushie a smirk and laugh a bit. (Nurse gising na po sya)

⭑OR

⭑2) Sanji would write that down in his “All about Y/n!” Notebook and put hearts all over it.

⭑He would give you plushies, and on every island you visit, he insists on getting you at least one stuffed animal.

⭑Would even sculpt one of his foods as your plushie.

⭑Plus he’d get all giddy iddy when he sees you coddling the plushie he bought. It’s really satisfying to see when the person you love appreciates what they give you.

⭑Robin would let out a smile and maybe even tease you (when she's feeling it)

⭑Might get jealous when you're spending more of your time with them. She's your crew member and s/o, you should focus on her!

⭑She once woke up with your back in front of her, and you were cuddling your plushie.

⭑Sad to say you couldn't find your stuffies for a week… :(

⭑But Robin was there for you!

⭑In the end, it was a win-win situation!

⭑FRANKY FOUND IT CUTE CUTE CUTE.

⭑While you were worrying about how he'll react (unknowingly to you, he already found out and named one of them cola jr.) Franky already made a small plushie (robot) that does the SUPEERRRRRRR with him.

⭑When he saw you sad that one of your plushies got teared up, he'd secretly take it and repatch it (w/h metal scraps)

⭑Would sweat when you confronted him about it, and even DENY IT.

⭑"Franky you're the only one I know that'd use metal scraps for repair…"

⭑"Oh."

⭑Brook is a cutie patootie.

⭑He already knows what you like, from the panties you wear to the plushies you like!

⭑Would make one of those and have some delightful little tea parties. If you're too occupied to join in, why not let your mini-version take part instead?

⭑Anyways, if you'd ever show him a soul king merch/plushie. HE'D FLY OVER THE MOONN.

⭑He didn't know they were selling those! Especially when the cane he has can be removed and shown as a knife.

⭑Our good boy Jinbe.

⭑While on his trip, he saw a lot of them. But of course wouldn't bother to buy one.

⭑I mean, you're on a business trip for sake. And a pirate should always be ready and need no time for aesthetics.

⭑Well, that's what he thought BEFORE he met you. When he saw your room he was SHOOK

⭑How did you have time for all of this? How were you gonna sleep? How will you keep them clean?

⭑Many thoughts were roaming in his head. But when he saw your adoring smile, he made up his mind and would do anything to make you happy.

⭑Even keeping your plushies clean.

A/n: I hope you all enjoyed it. nd sorry for the almost 2-month break.

[ur-local-wizard]

Eye of the Storm (Part 2)

Your desk partner leaves his notebook after class, and you’re struck by the beauty of its contents.

Here's part 2!! Sorry it took so long. So many versions of this were written. Still not entirely happy with this one, but oh well. (Not much fluff in this one either, mainly angst. And obviously no smut either.)

college au, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, whipped!mattheo, use of y/n, slight obsession, stalking implied(?), i think that's it

w/c: 658

masterlist part 1

a/n: shout out to my editor, A <3

Reader's POV:

Slamming the door behind yourself, you stumbled into your dorm – bag sliding off your shoulders and falling to the floor. Grabbing Mattheo’s notebook, you walked to your bed and laid down, staring at the pages in your hands. After a little contemplation, you decided to open it. 

You were greeted with a compilation of sketches. Things like nature scenes, ornate architecture, people, etc. Some of the drawings were of things you recognize, some of things you didn’t. But what really caught your attention is the same drawing from earlier.

Upon closer inspection, you realized that Theo was right. It really was your eye. But not how you’re used to seeing it in the mirror. He captured more emotion, more life than what you normally notice. It was breathtaking… and a little intimidating; solely because of the amount of time and effort he must have put into all this. 

As you flipped through the notebook, the drawings progressed from objects to anatomy. It seemed to all be of a girl – side profiles, views from behind her, different individual features. For example, there’s a drawing of a girl in a library, the viewer facing her back. She’s reaching for a book high on a shelf. Her tote bag caught your eye, it was full of what looked like books and stationary. On the front was an intricate design of a rose.

You looked up, and the exact tote bag is hanging on a coat rack by the door. A quiet gasp escaped your lips, and you snapped the book shut. “Why is Mattheo drawing me of all people? How is he getting all these details about me in the first place?” You ask yourself, staring at the sketchbook in front of you. 

You stand up and slip some shoes on, grabbing the book again as you hurry out of your dorm. Time to get to the bottom of whatever the hell this is.

Mattheo’s POV:

Mattheo laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind was spinning – all he could think about was her. Her annoying cheerfulness, the way her smile lights up her face. It was infuriating; the way she burrowed herself into his thoughts so effortlessly, despite his best efforts to ignore her. But he just couldn’t help falling for her – couldn’t resist the magnetic pull she had on him. And the worst part? He hasn't told anyone. 

Deciding he’s had enough of sulking, Mattheo sat up and walked to his desk. Sketching her always helps to clear his mind. As he opened his bag, reaching in for his sketchbook, he discovered it wasn’t there. Panicking, he flipped it over, dumping out its contents, and still the sketchbook was nowhere to be seen. Searching for it, he slammed open every drawer he could find. Desk drawers, dresser drawers, his sock drawer at the bottom of his wardrobe; nothing was left unturned. The boy even looked under his bed. 

Still, it was absolutely nowhere.

A knock sounded on his dorm door, and his head snapped up in response. Standing up, he slowly approached it. His heart pounded so fast he could swear he heard the blood rushing through his veins. 

All he could think was, “Where's my sketchbook? Who the hell is at my door? Fuck- I’m shaking.” 

He cast one last look at his ruined bedroom before opening the door with trembling hands. Standing in the hallway, eyes wide with fear, was Y/n. He ran a hand through his messy hair, suddenly self-conscious. “Why is she here? Is she okay? She looks terrified… Am I the one scaring her?” His thoughts were jumbled, and he stared at her with concern for a few moments before stepping aside, holding the door open. 

“Please, come in. Sorry, my room is a mess… I lost something,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft with her. He was afraid of scaring her more. But as she passed him, he saw his sketchbook in her hands. Shit.

Hope you liked it!! As always, tell me if you want to be added to the tag list, and ty to everyone for all the amazing support! You have no idea how amazing it feels <3

Taglist: @ilovejamespottersomuch @mattyriddlesbitch

[cemeteryspider]

Family Fragments Part 1

Stanford Pines x Child! Reader

*No use of Y/n* *Fem Reader*

Summary: Flashback~ Ford must protect you, his innocent daughter, from becoming an unwilling pawn in the sinister schemes of an Interdimensional demon.

Trigger Warnings: Possession, Child Endangerment (thanks Bill), Psychological Manipulation, Mild Violence

Word Count: 1.1k

You shifted in your father's arms as he pushed through doors and walked through hallways from the basement of his shack in the woods into your room in the attic. You barely registered him tucking you into your bed and him kissing you on the forehead with his heavily chapped lips.

"Good night, Sweet pea," He whispered and the door clicked behind him. 

A loud tired sigh echoed in the short stairwell down to the foyer. The descent down the staircase was heavy and creaky and when he came to the door in the basement he widened his eyes and allowed the retinal scanner to scan his eye confirming he was not possessed by Bill. He couldn’t help the yawn that escaped his lips as he entered the basement, cluttered with half-finished devices- scattered wires and gears glinting under the dim flickering light bulb hanging overhead.The unfinished portal stood tall in front of him humming a just so a he felt a soft vibration through the soles of his shoes. 

He sat down at the workbench and resumed writing in the third journal. Drawing the new suit he was designing to keep Bill out of his mind for good, however there was the small problem of the brain he needed to complete the thing. However, his mind drifted to the mind erasing gun in the hand of the suit which reminded him of his old friend, who left him alone to work with his muse months ago. 

Then he heard a not so subtle knocking coming from upstairs. At first he thought it was some random drunk knocking at the door and letting the person get bored of the odd old cabin in the woods, but after a succinct series of thuds and a hushed laughter he decided to investigate.

He breathed a sigh of relief—at least Bill couldn't sneak his way down there, not without triggering the failsafes. But as he looked up, his heart stopped. There you were, standing in the foyer, eyes glowing an unnatural yellow and a smile far too wide for your little face. It was a sight so wrong, so unsettling, that Ford could barely bring himself to speak.

Your limbs jerked awkwardly, like a marionette pulled by unseen strings, controlled by a puppeteer who lacked all finesse, "Hey, sixer!"

He stood frozen for a moment. Bill's voice coming from your mouth where your sweet little voice should have been, he swallowed a lump in his throat and forced himself to speak, "What are you doing here Bill?" 

Bill grinned, twisting your lips into a mockery of a smile, "I just came by to see you and it seems as though you've taken certain... precautions to make sure I don't interrupt your research."

A chill went down Stanfords spine, his research into the Anti-Cipher Society, and the plans for the suit I had designed, "Let's talk face to face, Cipher. No need to bring my daughter into this."

"I suppose I could end our contract a bit earlier than I intended," And with that your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, and your scaleras the correct color once more. Quickly Ford ran toward you and stopped your descent before hitting the ground.

Bill floated around looking at the different furniture with great fascination, "What is wrong with you, she's just a child."

He cradled your head while you continued your sleep, "Yeah, quite a while since I made a deal with something so small, very difficult to control such small limbs. Painful falling down the stairs don't you think?"

His eyebrows rose and looked over your head moving your hair around, checking for any blood or bruising that could indicate a head wound or concussion.

Stop being such a stick in the mud, Sixer,' Bill sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. 'She’s perfectly fine…for now.' His tone darkened, and Ford’s blood ran cold as he watched Bill shift, his form flickering like a faulty lightbulb.

Ford clutched you tightly to his chest, his heart pounded erratically in his ribcage, "I think it's time for you to leave."

"Nothing more for me to do here, but just you wait I think I will see you again, real soon," With that the cabin seemed to gain its color back and you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

"Dad?" You whispered after a rather large yawn. He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at hearing your darling voice. His fingers trembled as they wrapped themselves around your small frame, almost as if you would slip right through his grasp into the nightmarish darkness Bill brought in. For a moment, he pressed his nose to the top of your head and breathed in your familiar scent, desperate to remind himself that you were here with him- still his little girl. A surge of guilt tightened his chest. 

"Everything's going to be okay, Sweet Pea just go back to sleep." And you did. For so long he had stayed awake for as long as possible trying to avoid Bill gaining control of his body he forgot about you. A child with little contact with the outside world, and how easily children can be persuaded by older wiser beings. Bill is a master manipulator and Ford practically opened the door to your mind by inviting him into his. 

Despite the distance he forced Bill to keep from you, he had been in his mind. Combed through his memories his happiest being with Stan in his earlier years, and with you in the present. You never were far from his thoughts and Bill knew his weak spot.

He could pull his own hair from his scalp at his own negligence, scream at the top of his lungs for the danger that he put you in, or cry at the worry he felt after learning of your tumble down the stairs caused by someone he once called his friend. However, he did none of those things.

Once he had tucked you in for a second time, Ford sank into the old chair beside your bed. The springs groan under his weight, the leather cracked and worn from years of use. He stared at you for a long moment, watching your chest rise and fall as you slept peacefully. It made his heart ache. How innocent you looked, under a heap of soft blankets, completely unaware of the danger that lurked just beyond your dreams. A dim lamp casting a light golden glow across the room that seemed like a fragile barrier against the dark shadow Bill Cipher cast on this night. 

Ford’s hand shook as he plucked a pen from your desk and opened the journal he had tucked in his coat pocket, the ink bleed slightly as he pressed it to the parchment. He wrote furiously, his mind racing with all sorts of plans, but one thought rang through: I can’t let him take her. Not my daughter.

[diorchids]

play date

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, no use of y/n, f!reader, making out, swearing, fingering, oral ( m&f receiving ), finger sucking, unprotected p in v, sub&dom!sejanus ( squint ), obsessed!sejanus, praise kink

a/n: this took too long ?? first fic on here so lmk ur thoughts

mature content ahead!

sejanus seems so innocent. his nerdy nature, eagerness to learn, the way he never hangs out after classes. “he stays to himself, a lot,” coriolanus mutters following you asking about sejanus’ personal life. his brown eyes gaze up at the unprovoked mention of his name.

standing from his desk, he waltzes over to you and coryo, “why wouldn’t i stay to myself? you expect me to trust them?” sejanus points to arachne and her groupies. you smile, making him grin after looking back at you and coryo.  

dean highbottom makes himself known, clearing his throat. you crane your neck to glance over to sejanus, but his eyes are already on you.

the brief eye contact made you immediately sit back in your designated seat while highbottom asks everyone to partner up for a project, coming up with ideas for the games to come.

trudging your way through the dense population of your peers, looking for clemensia. you’d assumed corio was working with sejanus.

“looks like you’re also in need of a partner,” the tall boy towers over you, his curls bouncing as he tilts his head downward. his eyes narrow on yours, expecting a sad rejection, he squeezes his hands together. 

“i guess i am, projects must not be for snow,” he’d left. long gone under the guise of a bathroom break. 

sejanus clears his throat, “be mine, then, please,” his throat is jammed with saliva, his tongue gliding around the tips of his teeth. but you oblige, biting the inside of your cheek. “my parents aren't home, just in case you wanted to start there,” he clarified, making sure you knew he was talking about school.

you chuckle at his tense demeanor. “does this house have an address?” sejanus laughs, he’s less on edge, all because of you. 

he gets home with the piece of paper with your number on it, brushing over it with his clammy hands. his palms instinctively rub against his clothed dick, making him whine at the pain that needed taking care of. you knew what you were doing.

making him so needy, having him practically beg for your attention. sweaty hands trail up to the phone to dial your number, he hesitates to dial the last digit. 

“hello?” your voice raises goosebumps on his skin. he's silent, a lump getting caught in his throat. “sejanus? from class? is the play date ready?”

you sit up on your bed, awaiting his answer. “yeah, s’ready,” his smile could be heard through the phone.

“i’ll be there in, like, 10.” before he could answer, you hung up. 

knocks on the door accompany the sounds of lucky flickerman speaking on tv. the door handle shakes after sejanus forgets to unlock it. “one second–! fuckin’ doorknob,” the door opening to his smile, eyebrows anxious and twitching. 

“we can head to my room if you want,” he makes it clear he only wants to do the project, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

following him upstairs, you notice how nice his house is, putting yours to complete shame. his room has posters, quotes, and pictures of his family. “let's just start now, with brainstorming.”

his eyes flick back and forth from your face and your bra rubbing against your shirt. you draw diagrams of threats that could be implemented into the games, the only driving force is the thought of being a mentor.

your back aches from sitting in the chair for too long, the desk lamp straining both of your eyes. you rose from the desk, making sejanus slightly frown, being farther away from you.

you fall straight back onto his bed, a slight moan escaping your lips. a quiet groan leaves him, his eyebrows furrowing while looking at your pillowy lips. 

he fidgets with his hands, trying so hard to not palm his cock while you’re right there, “l’me touch you — please,” he groans out, desperately. this was something guttural, something begging to leave his mouth.

his words fall slowly out it. they take you by surprise, his desperation for you, his whiny voice. his legs go into what feels like autopilot as he walks towards you, so hungry.

“i’ll be so good, so, so good,” his leg between yours, you sitting up, being met with his face. his warm breath against your cheeks makes your breath hitch.

fingers cradle your jaw as his thumb draws circles on your chin, “talk t’ me.” you nod as your eyes analyze his face, taking in every ounce of his words, “whatever you want, do whatever you want,” pulling your waist to his leg, rocking yourself against him.

your wet lips smashing into his, your mouth being searched every inch by his warm tongue. his hands travel all over you, gripping your thighs and your neck. (softly, of course.)

“knees, now, please,” his words leave a mark on your cheek. so soft and yet so demanding. but you comply while sej unbuckles his belt, licking his top lip. seeing you on your knees, so helpless, so nasty.

he pulls his cock out of his boxers, and it slaps his stomach, he’s so achingly hard and big. his pants are discarded onto the floor, you both know they won’t be needed.

sucking air in through his teeth when you prod at his red, leaking tip. head tilting to the side with desperate eyes, eyebrows furrowing when you kiss his tip, he pulls his shirt off. his dick is huge next to your face, you run your finger up a vein, making him shudder.

“mmmf — f- fuck,” he babbles while pulling your hair into his fist, bucking his hips into your warm mouth. “m’ sorry,” eyes roll to the back of his head, his lips swollen from being abused by his teeth.

his bed squeaks as he flops down on his bed to sit, still pulling your mouth onto his dick. cock twitching in your mouth as you squeeze his soft but toned thighs, earning a groan and tug on your hair. “you see what you’re doin’ t’ me? m’ like an animal for you,” eyebrows truly showing how he feels about you. your hands wrap around his cock while you jerk it and suck his swollen, abused tip.

“show me how much you love me, sejanus,” keeping eye contact no brick could break, his cock twitches while you take him all in your mouth one last time. his hand finds its way to your breasts, caressing and squeezing them. 

warm spurts of cum coating the back of your throat, his big hands grip your hair, bucking his hips into your mouth. groans and moans fill the room as you look up at him, with those eyes.

his cock twitching against your chin, his face flushed while brushing your hair to the side, “that was s– so good, s’ good,” wet lips quivering from your nails digging into thighs. “felt good?” you say, breathlessly, sejanus nodding immediately, face red and hairs starting to stick to his head.

he helps you to your feet before guiding you toward his bed. rough, big hands lay you down before trailing down to the end of the bed. he looks at you, examining your face attentively before gripping your ankles and dragging you to him.

“let's get this off, ‘kay?” he tugs the end of your shirt, you nodding while pulling the shirt over your head, your lace bra making sejanus groan at the sight of you, so, so beautiful.

he crawls to you, wrapping arms around your chest, undoing your bra, chests rubbing against each other. your bra falls as he watches in awe. sejanus rises and moves to the end of the bed, eyes lidded, once again hungry. tapping your ankle, silently telling you to open your legs, analyzing your wet cunt being soaked through your panties. 

“so wet, all for me?” you nod quickly. his thumb presses against your needy clit, making you shiver and instinctively close your legs on his head. “m’ sorry, keep goin’,” grabbing a pillow to cover your mouth, to muffle the moans to come.

“no, wanna hear you,” his arm flexes as he grabs the pillow and pushes your hips up to make space for it.

his fingers hook onto the hem of your panties, pulling them off of your legs, exposing your bare cunt. he ruts himself against his bed as he groans hot breaths right into your clit. fingers glide across your slit, moving up to your clit, earning moans from you and your puffy lips. his tongue licks a stripe onto your cunt before latching onto your swollen clit.

long fingers traveling up to your mouth, and without a word you start to suck and swirl his fingers around in your mouth before him abruptly slipping them out and into your cunt.

lips detach from your clit to speak, “ah, takin’ it so well, baby. talk t’ me, please,” you nod before he curls his fingers up, hitting that sensitive spongy spot. “words, please,” he begs, gripping your thigh with his free hand, squeezing fat.

“love it, love your fingers in me s’ much.” groans fill your pussy as he goes faster, sucking your puffy clit, fingers going in and out. the coil in your stomach tightens with every sloppy thrust.

rabid moans leave your throat as you buck your hips up into his face, him holding your hips down with his hand. the bed slightly moving back and forth from his hips rutting against the edge, “so wet. so fuckin’ sweet,” his muffled words praising your cunt. your hips stutter on his chin and he thrusts mercilessly, in and out.

the fire in the pit of your stomach igniting as you cum all over his face and bed, cum pooling at your ass. his tongue swirling over your clit makes your eyes roll back earning a back arch off of the pillow. “fuck, i’m cummin’, you feel so good in me, love you so much, baby,” you exclaim while writhing under his spell.

his hips hump pathetically against his bed until he hears your words, your praise. his cum coating his boxers in hot, white seed. 

“nngmf,” his head falls straight onto your clit. your hands finding his curls, soft moans filling the room. his seed dripping down his leg onto his carpet, leaving a stain, a memory.

“gonna cum in you now, let you have all of it,” crawling up the bed, smashing his cum washed lips onto yours. “can i fuck you, please?” you nod while he pulls his cock out of his wet boxers and lines it up with your entrance, “s’ take it all,” before smashing his hips in and out of your spoiled cunt. lips abusing your needier ones, he couldn’t wait, he couldn’t wait to be inside of you, soaked in your juices.

his hips don’t stop from slamming your cervix in, ripping painful but pleasurable moans from deep down. his flexed arms hold your knees to your shoulders, taking complete control of your body. “you feel so fuckin’ amazin’. better than i ever imagined. so – so warm for my cock, so fuckin’ tight,” you moan while gripping his hair in response, nodding so eagerly, wanting and needing more of his dick.

drool falling from the corners of your mouth, so fucked out, so dumb for his cock, the cock thats bruising up your cervix.

“like you were made for me, fittin’ me all up in here, fuck, gonna empty my balls all up in y– agh,” his balls slap your slit as you both chase the high. the delicious high, the rewarding high.

your pussy squeezes his cock so beautifully, so perfectly. “g’ cum, f’ so good in me,” your whisper, egging him on. he grips your thighs so tightly, threatening to cum all up in you. “you wanna cum? go ahead,” his eyes on yours, “cum all on me, all over me, please, ” his hips thrust violently into you, animalistically.

your eyes dart to your pussy, taking all of him, swallowing his cock so well. him digging his nails into your plush thighs, thrusts becoming sloppy. he pushes down on your stomach to feel himself making you feel so good. your cunt starts to flutter, while the coils tighten again, threatening to snap. “grippin’ me so good, like a fuckin’ vice,” he’s panting into your ear.

“m’ cumming, sejanus, all f’ you,” you reach climax, cum piling at the base of his cock as your back arches, pleasure coursing through you as the juices fall onto the bed under you.

he doesn’t pull out of you, though, instead chasing his high. “you did so good, thank you, thank you s’ much,” he groans out to you, still bruising your cervix. you can’t even respond, being so fucked out from his thick cock stretching you out so good.

cock twitching, he speeds up while gripping your ass, slamming your walls into him. hips stuttering while his warm cum coats the entirety of your cunt, inside and out. he rides his high out, though he pulls out eventually. just to replace it with his thick, long finger. 

“love you, love y’ so much,” his bruised lips abusing yours.

he shuffles awkwardly to his bathroom to get you a warm towel, pulling the warm blanket over your bodies.

i see very few fics of him like he isnt so fine, but i must speak my truth!!!!

[rivendell-poet]

First of all, thanks so much @klerns-birdie for the request! Second of all, I'm so sorry for the delay! Third of all, here it is and I hope you enjoy it <3

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Thorin ○ Fíli ○ Kíli ○ Dwalin ○ Bofur ○ Bilbo ○

Gender-neutral reader | Wordcount : 1.2k | TWs : None

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧

✧ Thorin first heard about it through his nephews excitedly telling him, and although he’d listened he hadn’t truly absorbed the information.

✧ So you could twist yourself and be flexible? It’s a useful skill, but nothing he needs to be blown away by.

✧ Then, when about to get you, he sees you practising. And he realises that you deserved the praise you had been given - you deserved that and more.

✧ Finishing your routine, you can feel eyes suddenly on you. Incredibly intense, and taking in every movement of your body.

✧ You don’t quite feel vulnerable, but as you contort again to stand up straight and face Thorin there’s something more intimate about performing than there usually is.

✧ When you face him there’s a second of silence, before he clears his throat and informs you of what he needs you to do. You agree and begin to leave, but he’s still standing there.

✧ Just as you’re about to be out of earshot, he speaks again. “That was… incredible.”

✧ It’s a good thing you aren’t facing him because you can feel heat rush to your face. Realising your leaving it too long, you swallow then respond, “Thank you.”

✧ Once the two of you are together he’s much more openly interested.

✧ Tries to design jewellery that will flex and more while you’re practising, which eventually leads into him trying to design armour for you.

✧ It’s a challenge but it’s one he enjoys; often you’ll be beckoned over to try out a new piece, moving and giving feedback.

𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐢

✧ Fíli could never really see the appeal of human villages, towns, or cities no matter how much time he spent in them. Even the better smiths he was able to be in weren’t right.

✧ Something in him always recognised this was not right for him, that the magic of jewels and intricately crafting metals could not be achieved here.

✧ But still, he tried for something to get close. Normally it was the higher paying blacksmith jobs, the glint of dwarven steel. Then he sees you do a contortion act.

✧ He’d been friends with you for a little while, but never something deeper, until your friends had encouraged you to demonstrate your skill.

✧ You’d laughed, but obliged them. And he’d been spellbound.

✧ It was as if something had been flipped - both about you and about the beauty of humanity.

✧ When you finish Fíli can’t quite meet your eyes, is horribly aware of the blush on his face, and almost stutters in his compliment to you.

✧ After that both of you know there’s something between you, and eventually it happens after you perform again. It’s in a quiet location, and as people wander about there’s only you and him left.

✧ Moving up he stays silent as you come closer, eyes with some longing.

✧ And, gently, the two of you kiss.

𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐢

✧ As Erebor eventually fills up, the mountain now reclaimed, one of the things Kíli looks forward too most is the new people that come with it.

✧ At first it’s mainly miners and traders, or dwarves who have an ancestral home here, but eventually more people come. Musicians, artists, and performers.

✧ Then he sees you. You stand out already - as a human - but what really captures his eye is what you are performing.

✧ He’s never seen anything like it before, instantly stopped in his tracks before getting closer to be able to admire you.

✧ You realise something must be happening as your act draws much larger crowds than normal, but you don’t realise the reason is because the crown prince is watching it. Finishing your act you bend one more time before coming up and bowing, listening to the cheers and applause.

✧ The crowd eventually dies down, but Kíli is still waiting there; coming up to you he’s quite shy, complimenting you on your performance before asking how you learnt.

✧ You talk for a while, and although he offers to walk you through the market you decline. Before you leave he asks when he’ll see you again - if he can, of course - and instantly makes note of the time and location you give him.

✧ Unsurprisingly, he shows up. And he shows up at the next performance, and the next performance.

✧ But he doesn’t make a move, even when the adoration he stares at you with is obviously not just adoration anymore.

✧ Eventually, it’s you who asks him to court you.

✧ Standing straight, and ready to begin your performance, you speak to the small crowd. “This act is dedicated to someone, someone dear to me. Someone who I love.”

𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧

✧ At first, Dwalin doesn’t realise you’re a contortionist. He’s impressed by how fluid your body is, the grace you carry yourself with when moving. The way you can bend perfectly to pick something off the floor.

✧ But, as admirable a talent as that is, he thinks it is simply that. A talent.

✧ (Although to him that doesn’t explain why he seems to draw to your every move doing that, the blush on his face that appears. There is something special to him in your movement.)

✧ Eventually you begin your courtship, and he assumes that’s why he was always so drawn to it - because he’s in love with you.

✧ And then the subject comes up, and you reveal you’re a contortionist.

✧ He pauses for a second, almost confused. Then softly, almost shyly, he asks if you’d be willing to perform for him.

✧ You say yes, and the time is set for later that day.

✧ When you finally perform he is even more mesmerised. Eyes sweeping over every inch of your body, taking in your movement and fully appreciating it.

✧ “By Mahal, you’re beautiful.”

𝐁𝐨𝐟𝐮𝐫

✧ First sees you when you’re half way through a contortion routine.

✧ And, of course, he can’t look away. (Although he is a little annoyed at himself for only discovering you halfway through your performance and missing some of it.)

✧ So, he resolves to watch a full performance as soon as he can.

✧ You don’t notice Bofur coming to watch immediately, but after the third time you can recognise him. After the fifth time you’re confident enough to smile fully at him, giving him a little wink near the end of your routine before you carry on with.

✧ He stays still this time, instead of dispersing with the crowd, and waits for you to come to him. Bowing down, “Bofur, at your service.”

✧ “(Y/n), at yours.” Smiling, you look the dwarf over once again. Remember the feeling of being watched that came from him - except it wasn’t just watching, it was being admired.

✧ “Say, may I buy you a drink?”

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐨

✧ Bilbo is also awe inspired, and probably the most flustered of them all.

✧ It’s just so different - it feels so intimate to him. At first when he’s watching you his eyes will only flicker to you occasionally, and his cheeks flush pink when he realises you’ve seen him.

✧ Even when you’re travelling together and you simply bend to pick something up his mind goes back to when he’s seen you performing.

✧ But he can still hold a conversation, and certainly gushes about your performance to you. He’s always incredibly complimentary of the routine.

✧ Once you’re together he allows himself to watch you more closely, to notice every detail of your performance - and of course all that does is make him fall in love with you even more.

A/N : Hope you enjoyed! Contortionist secretly scare me, but I also respect the hell out them for doing that. I'm pretty sure I would break several bones should I attempt anything close, so...

anyway I hope you enjoyed this & have a great day/night <3

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / cont in comments. ✧ wish to be tagged?

[louloulemons-posts]

Hi! I love how much fluff is in your fics 💜 So comforting

Can I request Eddie and reader having Halloween date at home?

A lot of cuddles, pizza, classic horror movies and themed food? 🥺

Have a nice day!

Hi! Thank you so much for the request, I hope this fulfils what you were hoping for 🤍

Spooky Date Night

Eddie Munson X Reader

Summary : Eddie plans a date for him and his girlfriend.

Word Count : 1.5k

Warnings : Pure fluff, mentions of horror movies, swearing, knives (pumpkin carving), use of Y/N, pet names, not proofread.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You couldn’t wait, Eddie had invited you over to the trailer for a date. One that he had not let you know anything about whatsoever. All he said was dress comfy, pack an overnight bag and come over at 6:30.

All of those things were done, dressed in some sweatpants and a long sleeve tee with a jumper and jacket over top, you tried to hide from the chilly October air.

Pulling up to the trailer and parking next to Eddies van. Grabbing your bag from the seat beside you you climbed out and knocked on his door.

You heard his voice, “Coming!” Soon enough the door was pulled open and there stood Eddie Munson, a grin on his face. “Hey Angel! Come on in.”

You did so, sliding off your beat up shoes and leaving them next to Eddies favourites. Looking up the trailer looked a lot different to how it normally did.

There were fake cobwebs everywhere, candles lit, the room was dark but cosy. There were pumpkins on the counter, pizza and Halloween candy on the table. A high pile of videos to watch.

“What do you think?” He asked, stepping from one foot to the other nervously. “It looks great! You did all this?” You asked him. He nodded, “Yeah thought we could have a spooky night, as we’re going to that party on Halloween night.”

“You’re something else Munson, just the sweetest guy,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. “I’m glad you like it. Why don’t you go put your stuff in our room I’ll get us some drinks and plates for food.”

You nodded and went to drop your bag off in his room, you did have spare clothes at Eddies, even then you borrowed his. It was very likely that by the end of the night you’d end up in the worn Black Sabbath shirt he was wearing currently.

You went back to join him on his couch, as he put a couple slices of pizza on your plate.

“It’s so cozy in here, should convince Wayne to keep it like this.”

“It was hard enough to convince him to let me do this,” you both laughed at that.

“So what movies have we got?”

“I got a selection, classics, Halloween, Jaws, Nightmare on Elmstreet and The Shining. Some less scary ones cause I want you to get some sleep, so Rocky Horror.”

You hummed, there were a couple more in the pile too, you assumed that’s why he asked you over so early. “Got us some pumpkins to carve too, cause you know, best part of Halloween.”

You could only smile at him, he thought of all of this. You both loved Halloween, that was one of the things you bonded over when you first met. People freaking out over Christmas when you were already waiting for the Spooky Season to roll back around.

So the pair of you tucked into your pizza, chatting away and giggling ready to start your spooky evening.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

After you’d cleared up your plates and Pizza boxes, Eddie and you grabbed some knives, pens and a big bowl for your pumpkin carving. Rolling up your sleeves, you pulled the orange veggie towards you.

“Damn getting serious babe,” Eddie laughed. “You know it, want me to tie your hair back?” You asked him, he nodded, and held out his wrist. A hair tie sat there, it was for either you or him, depending on the situation.

Pulling his curls out of his face, you tied them in a low pony that sat at the base of his neck. Kissing the top of his head you sat back next to him. “Thanks Angel.”

Picking up a pen you began to draw your design on your pumpkin. Planning on doing a some what traditional one, triangle eyes and nose and a toothy grin.

You could tell Eddie was going the opposite route, assuming something with a fearsome face, that could potentially scare trick or treaters away.

Once you were both happy with your designs, you picked up your knives and began to cut off the top. Making lid for the little guys, pulling it off you smiled, proud of how even it was.

“Nice work babe,” Eddie smiled, soon pulling his own off. “Thanks, you too.” Placing it down you stood up. “Where you off too?” He asked. “To get spoons, we forgot them.”

“We don’t need spoons!” Eddie said before shoving his hand in the pumpkin. It came out covered in seeds and stringy insides. “Gross pumpkin guts!” You exclaimed.

“Dare you to try some.”

“No way!”

“Why not? It’s just pumpkin.”

“It’s grim Eds, look at it!” He grinned at you. “Don’t you dare.” You took a step back and Eddie stood up.

“Stay away!” He lunged for you and you squealed, running through the kitchen, the boy cackling as he chased you. “Edward Munson go away!”

You could feel him behind you, grabbing your waist and pulling you to him, you screamed. He rubbed his sticky hand on your face slightly.

“Get off!” You shouted. He laughed again, dropping his head to your shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “You’re a terrible boyfriend, did you know that?” You asked,turning to face him.

He couldn’t help out laugh, that was until you got your hand and wiped some of the pumpkin off your face and onto his lips. He spluttered, “Ew gross!” He exclaimed, wiping his mouth.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Your jack o lanterns now sat on the side with candles in. “Can’t believe I knocked his tooth out, he’s all gappy now!” You whined, dropping your head on to Eddie.

“I think he’s cute Angel. We got a cute one and a scary one, it’s like me and you.”

“You calling me gappy Edward Munson?”

“Who said you’re the cute one?” He cocked a brow.

You went to retaliate but he pecked your lips, “Pick a movie, I’m going to the bathroom.” He stood from the couch and walked away.

Looking through them, you decided that Halloween was the best one to start with.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It was almost 12pm and you were now watching Nightmare on Elmstreet, pushing yourself closer to Eddie. “You okay?” He asked.

“Mhm, he’s just creepy,” you said. The boy wrapped his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest and his own on top of yours. He pressed a kiss to you and smiled.

Freddie Kruger popped up on screen making you jump and hide your face in Eddies chest, squealing as you did so. “Oh sweet girl it’s okay,” he spoke softly, rubbing your arm.

“Want me to turn it off?” You shook you head, no. “Okay but after this, Rocky Horror okay?”

“‘Mkay.” Pecking the top of your head once more, you moved your eyes to the screen once more.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You were about half way through Rocky Horror when your eyes grew heavy. It was nearing 1am, and you hadn’t moved from your position, snuggled in Eddies chest.

Relaxing fully, you let your eyes fall close, comfy and calm. No fear of Freddie Kruger or Michael Myers or even a giant Shark coming to get you.

Soon enough you were asleep in Eddies arms. Huffing a laugh, he gave you a light squeeze, allowing himself to relax too.

He was nervous this date wouldn’t be something you liked, he just wanted to make you happy. He knew he’d done that, from your laughter, to the play fighting to now, you snoozing in his arms softly.

Eddies became drowsy himself, he’d been up early to clean and decorate the trailer to make everything perfect for you. He didn’t mind, he’d do anything for you.

The boy soon followed your actions and drifted off himself, the sound of Tim Curry’s voice lulling you both.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A firm hand shook Eddies shoulder, making him jump awake. He met the eyes of his uncle Wayne. “Oh hey,” he said voice thick with sleep.

“Hey, sorry to wake you, but you’re in my bed,” he motioned to the couch.

“Shit sorry Wayne.” Eddie slowly slid you off him, resting you softly on the cushions.

Back cracking lightly as he stretched, he reached down for you, pulling your sleeping figure into his arms. “We’ll get out of your way, and I’ll clean up in the morning.”

“It’s 5am it’s morning. Just keep it down okay, it’s been a long shift.”

“Sure, do you need anything?” The boy asked his uncle.

“Just some sleep, you get yourself and Y/N to bed Son. So get outta my room.”

“Night Wayne.” He grunted back at Eddie, turning off the TV, that had a static screen, and grabbed his blanket from the back.

Eddie held you close to his chest as he wandered to the bedroom, keeping you as comfy as he could. Laying you down gently, you whined lightly.

“It’s okay Sweet Girl go back to sleep, ,” he hushed, stroking your hair. Laying down next to you, he pulled the blanket over both of your figures.

Soon enough the room was full of your snores, reaching for one another even in your sleepy state. It had been a great night.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[angellayercake]

face down in décolletage - chapter 1

Papa Emeritus IV x Fem Reader | NSFW | AO3

Disclaimer: Copia talking about being face down in tits has all the feminism leaving my body. I am sorry but he can leer at my boobs any day and I would thank him. So TW for Copia being a fucking perv and kind of degrading but if you are into that we are golden!

For @ghostchems for being feral with me 💜💜 love you!

With a dramatic puff you try to blow the hair sticking to your face away. It was so damn hot today you would rather be anywhere but at work but here you are. Another day, another show. You glance down at your clipboard, Ghost. You think you have heard of them, some kind of religious band from a church. When you had first started working at the venue you used to enjoy excitedly researching all the bands that passed through but now you just looked forward to getting through the night. As you scan down your clipboard you notice your top has ridden down again. You glance around quickly and yank it back up hoping that none of the guys noticed the blue frills of your bra peeking out the top. 

Maybe if you had got up earlier you would have had time to pick a different outfit or even check the weather forecast but as you had rolled out of bed and straight into the only clean clothes you had left you were stuck wearing your most revealing vest top with your most ridiculous push up bra. You had to live with the consequences of your lack of organisation combined with the stifling heat wave that had you sweating in even the little you were wearing. You just had to deal with it. 

The sounds of the buses pulling in draws your attention from your wardrobe woes and back to the job at hand, which for you is making sure the band stay happy for the duration of their stay at the venue. Their rider had been prepared and set up for them and you would be on hand to help them with anything else they needed. You hoped these guys weren’t dicks, there had been a run of assholes recently that had the stupidest demands but that was the job. You watch them pile out onto the forecourt all dressed in black and wearing helmets? Masks? You can’t quite see but they all huddle together just off to the side not approaching the manager who had stepped up to greet them.

A commotion from the bus draws everyone's eyes from the group of strangely dressed musicians and you see the frontman of this band for the first time. He was wearing a burgundy tracksuit, a fake designer shirt and leather brogues. And he had just dropped an armful of juice boxes as he tripped out the bus. He knelt down scrambling to pick them all up, fumbling with the broken packaging until one of the masked people must have taken pity on him, letting him pile them up in their arms. He looks up only now taking notice of all the eyes trained on him. As he straightens up he offers an awkward wave and a forced smile until the venue manager steps forward and introduces themselves. 

After a brief conversation you notice them making their way down the line of staff, which although not unheard of was unusual. The band manager would usually meet with venue staff not the talent but he must have insisted on being introduced to everyone. He shakes people's hands and gestures to the musicians behind him. You glance down at your clipboard as you wait your turn. Papa Emeritus IV and the eight Nameless Ghouls. He was the frontman and leader of the band and the Nameless Ghouls were instrumentalists. Your attention snaps back up when they reach the person beside you and you get your first proper look at him.

He’s not much taller than you and it’s hard to see much of his body under the baggy tracksuit but his face. He was oddly handsome, perfectly proportioned with strong features and carefully slicked back salt and pepper hair. The face paint he wore only accentuated his unusual mismatched eyes. But as he approaches you notice his gaze doesn’t land anywhere near your face. No he is looking directly at your boobs, with his mouth hanging open no less. You know they are very visible today but this middle aged man is gawping at you like a teenager seeing a porn mag for the first time. You clear your throat offering him your hand and he looks up at your face at last. Realising he had been caught a fetching blush grows across his cheeks that you find slightly adorable in spite of his leering. He takes your hand but as you attempt to shake it he tries to bring it up to his face. The back of your hand ends up squashed against his nose and you can feel his lip paint smudging on you. He drops your hand so quickly the momentum swings it away from you and his face is almost as red as his tracksuit when he moves on. What an odd man.  

You don’t see him much for the rest of the day, you are kept so busy keeping the ‘Nameless Ghouls’ in line. They are a fun bunch, quite mischievous but polite in spite of it all. The few times you do see him you can feel his eyes all over you and you find your annoyance building. What was with this guy? You had since discovered that he was the leader of not only this very satanic rock band but also the associated religious organisation, he was well into his fifties and while he was attractive you had to admit he was really quite odd. You shrug it off though. There was only an hour left until the show and although your manager would help you if you complained, something, you weren’t sure what, was stopping you. 

By the time the supporting act had finished it was all hands on deck to get the transition completed smoothly. Your arms are full of the discarded outfits of the supporting band so you can get them to the laundry when you pass by his dressing room but you are so consumed with your thoughts you fail to notice when the door opens and he steps out in front of you. You collide into him with a bump dropping everything that was piled in your arms at his feet.  

‘Papa Emeritus! I’m so sorry.’ It is not lost on you that you are now taking your turn to fumble around on the floor in front of him or that where he is standing above you gives him a perfect view down your top. Your arms full once again you kneel slowly, noticing all the differences about him as you go. The scuffed brogues are gone, replaced with perfectly shined expensive looking boots. His slim calves were covered in tight denim which clung all the way up his legs. His thighs were covered in ripped fabric that did nothing to hide the shape of them. It’s lucky your hands are full because just as he seemed unable to not look at your tits you might not be able to resist running your hands up his thighs and... Your mouth goes dry when you notice the lace up fly on his trousers but you stop that thought short. 

His jacket, while interesting, as distressed as his trousers with dramatic gold detailing and epaulettes, it's his face that captures your attention. He reaches down helping you back to your feet and as you stand you just stare taking in all the details of his stark black and white face paint. He is transformed, not just in how he looks although his painted face and sharp clothes differ so much from earlier. No, his whole demeanour has shifted. His nervous smile is replaced by an easy confident smirk when you meet his eyes, clearly having noticed your appraisal of him. 

‘You better be coming to watch the show cara mia.’ he says as he begins to walk away from you. Occasionally you do find time to catch the performances more often you are busy all evening but the way he says it feels like an order more than a request

‘I will try after I have finished my …’ he spins back round fixing you with a demanding look. 

‘No you will. I am not asking.’ He steps towards you, close to boxing you in against the closed door of his dressing room. ‘Your job is to make me happy, no? And what will make me happy is you watching the show from the side where I tell you.’ His proximity and commanding tone broker no argument so you just nod in agreement but he doesn’t give you room, just raises his eyebrows as if to communicate he is still waiting.  

‘Yes Papa.’ you breath hoping that was the answer he was waiting for. 

‘Bene, I will look for you cara, do not disappoint me.’ Only then does he stalk off with only a few minutes to spare. 

With the threat of his disappointment hanging over you you rush through the last of your tasks before making your way to the stage. He is waiting to the side as the last checks are completed. You don’t approach him as he seems to be deep in his preparations but he spots you as he paces, nodding and pointing to an out of the way area where you still have a good view. You can hear the crowd cheering in anticipation and in only a few minutes the lights go down and the music starts to swell. He has kept up his pacing back and forth, occasionally jogging on the spot as he waits for his cue. Your attention is drawn to the stage as the pyrotechnics soar and the guitars kick in and then running up to the centre of the stage in the midst of it all is him.

The show could only be described as mesmerising. Both Papa and the Ghouls had the crowd in the palm of their hand as they performed song after song. The costume changes and confetti, the smoke and the sparks, you couldn’t look away. You almost wished you were down in the audience so you could experience it properly. However there was one particular benefit to your position and that was having a clear view of Papa’s wardrobe. Everytime he hurried back for a new outfit or prop you received a smile or a wink and as time went on more and more heated looks. You weren’t entirely sure why he had wanted you there but you got the feeling you would enjoy whatever it was. 

He had announced their last song to cries of despair from the crowd but that only seemed to spur them on giving a rousing performance and he left the stage to a roar of appreciation. The ghouls continued playing as he ducked into the wardrobe for the last time, shrugging off the black jacket he was currently wearing in exchange for a dazzling blue sequined one. It reflected the light even in the dark corner of the stage you were both in. Instead of running back on stage though, this time he approached you.

‘Now there is something I need your help with cara mia, please follow me.’ He takes your hand and pulls you with him towards the narrow backstage corridor.  It is very rarely used now but it was originally for performers to get from one side of the stage to the other with no hindrance but what he could need your help with here you had no idea. About halfway down he stops suddenly manoeuvring you between him and the wall in the narrow corridor

‘You hear them all screaming for me cara mia?’ He asks with a smirk. He knows full well you can hear the screaming that's why you have your ear protectors slung around your neck. His arm rests on the wall above your head bringing him so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him, and smell the spicy scent of his cologne and his exertion. He’s taller than earlier, his fancy boots giving him a boost so although he is far from towering over you, this close you need to make an effort to look up at him as you speak. 

‘You must be happy, knowing that all those thousands of people enjoyed your show.’ It is quite obvious where this conversation is headed but you are curious to see how exactly he plans to proposition you when the memory of him fumbling his juice boxes is so fresh in your memory.

‘Si that should make me happy but really there is only one person I want to hear screaming tonight.’ His piercing mismatched eyes burn into yours and you know he is talking about you. You almost can’t breathe from the intensity and you wonder how this could be the same man as earlier. The only real similarity is the way his eyes trail down from your face all the way to your cleavage. Forcing yourself to finally take a deep breath you watch his eyes follow the rise and fall of your chest and you feel an unexpected heat rising within you. You weren’t a stranger to men staring at your boobs, it kind of came with the territory and usually someone staring this blatantly would earn a slap, but you enjoyed his eyes on you and it only made you want more, as it had all day. He leans in until he is close enough to whisper directly in your ear. 

‘Would you like this? A little after party just for us?’ His voice is low and seductive and you are only really able to hear him because he is so close you are almost touching. ‘For me to give you your own private performance, show you all my best moves then make you scream for me?’ Without saying much of anything at all he paints such a vivid picture and you want all of it. You could feel his painted lips brushing your ear ever so slightly as you leaned in and you knew what your answer was going to be. 

‘I … yes. Please.’ You feel his mouth pull into a grin as he steps even closer, his body flush with yours. You expect him to move to do something but he just continues to look at you, eyes burning into your already flushed and overheated skin. The leer he is giving you as he looks down your top shouldn’t be making you feel this way and yet you find yourself somehow desperate for the touches that look threatens. 

‘Thank you, cara,’ he pinches your chin tilting it up to just the right angle so that he can slot his mouth against yours, except he doesn’t. No he locks you in with his gaze, keeping you hypnotised and still as he ghosts his lips across your cheek and down your neck and as his lips finally make contact at the juncture of your neck and collar bone do you realise that he was just positioning you to get unhindered access to your chest. But as he settles his hands on your waist and begins to gently suck your sensitive skin you can’t even bring yourself to be annoyed. 

You lean your head back against the wall behind you and let your eyes drop closed so you can just concentrate on the feeling of his mouth on you. He nibbles along your collarbone soothing the marks with his tongue as he goes before dipping lower. He moans as his lips meet the curve of your breast and he stops, sucking a deep mark right in the centre before sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. It’s not deep and he doesn’t seem intent on inflicting pain on you, just feeling your body give way to him. You find your fingers woven in his hair not sure whether your intention was to push him away or pull him further in but you do neither and just let him take what he wishes. As he finishes marking you he licks a trail following the curve down into your cleavage and back up to the other side, peppering kisses everywhere he can reach. 

‘Mmmm,’ he moans as if he was eating his favourite meal. ‘So good cara mia, so perfect.’ He slides his hands up from your waist until they are cupping your breasts, spreading them apart so there is just enough room to bury his face between them. His moans are muffled in his new position but that doesn’t stop you noticing him getting louder. His hands start a slow massaging squeeze that has you moaning, turning into a whine when he stops, hooking his fingers into the top of your bra and pulling back to look at you. The heat and his touches have turned your brain to mush so it takes you a moment to realise he is asking you a question and a moment longer to register what it is. 

‘May I?’ he asks, starting to pull at your already revealing neckline. You can feel his knuckles brushing your nipples and you can only imagine how much better it will feel if you allow him full access. He is watching you intently so he catches your slight nod and slowly reveals them to his hungry eyes letting your top and bra bunch up just underneath like he doesn’t have the patience to wait to remove them properly. You watch his eyes light up as he sees your pierced nipples, the small gems glinting as you move even in the harsh light of the corridor. 

‘Così bella mia cara,’ he whispers as he ghosts his mouth over you, the tip of his tongue flicking at one nipple then the other. He grins up at you as you gasp, his teasing touch feeling almost too much already. You think back to a moment ago when you compared him to all the other men that you caught gawping at your cleavage. You had been so wrong. Never had you had such attention lavished on you, turning you to putty in his hands just from this. He sealed his lips around a nipple, sucking it into his mouth and toying with the piercing with his tongue and the other he rolled between his fingers twisting and pulling and pinching. Your fingers tighten in his hair, encouraging him closer. He pulls off your nipple with a pop, kissing and licking across until his whole face is between them finally relinquishing your other nipple so he can push them together while shaking his head back and forth. 

‘Papa?,’ another voice intrudes into your consciousness and you all of a sudden remember where you are and who you are with and the thousands of people waiting for an encore. You try to jump away from him but you are so securely pinned between him and the wall. He pulls away just as the footsteps get closer tucking you back into your top. His face paints are surprisingly intact although there are grey smudges all over you there is no hiding what was being done to you. ‘Papa,’ the stage assistant says as they round the corner and find you. ‘They are all still here calling for more.’

‘Excuse my cara. I am needed,’ he winks at you, gesturing for the assistant to go on ahead. He steps towards you pining you back in place tilting your chin up to force you to look at him once again. ‘But if you want to continue this, be in my dressing room at the end of the show.’ He turns on his heel heading in the same direction only to pause before he rounds the corner. ‘And I want you undressed.’ You are surprised your knees hadn’t buckled yet you were so worked up, the possibilities of what would happen if you followed his instructions buzzing in your mind. 

The crescendo of screams as he walks back on the stage breaks you from your reverie, and forces you into action. You don’t even need to think, the decision already made by your racing heart and your wet pussy. You push off the wall knowing you only have three songs to follow his instructions but you don’t need to rush just yet as you can still hear him addressing the crowd. Exiting the corridor on the other side of the stage you listen for a moment. He hushes their screams so he can banter with them for a moment.

‘I was already at the after show party,’ He says gesturing behind him to the fictional afterparty. You laugh to yourself starting to head towards the dressing room so you can get ready for what you are sure is going to be a memorable night. But the next words out of his mouth freeze you on the spot. ‘You know I had my face down in some decolletage and someone said that they are still all here.’ A laugh barks out of you in disbelief. That smug sexy bastard! 

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 16: The Space Between Words

Prompt: "No, I'm not okay"

A moment in "Per Manum" after Scully breaks the bad news to Mulder. Rating: T, wc: 913

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

“Never give up on a miracle.” His voice sounds loud to his ears, and he hopes – no, prays – that she hears them, understands him. Whatever she wants to do next, whatever she wants to try, he’s by her side. He’s not giving up on this, or her. On them.

They cling to each other like castaways after a shipwreck. Mulder bites back his own tears, wanting to give Scully the chance to grieve. This was her dream long before it became his, too. He holds her as tightly as she lets him, wishing he could take the pain away from her.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into her hair, needing to say the words as much as she needs to hear them. She squeezes his neck, her face pressed against his chest. She takes a deep breath, as if taking him in, and loosens her grip on him. He searches her face, playing it by ear. She sniffles a few times, avoiding his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.” She steps away from him, using her thumbs to wipe away her tears. “It was- well.” Her words are heavy with pain, and he doesn’t just hear it—he feels it. Feels the weight of her disappointment. The anger, too. This has been stolen from her.

“You don’t have to stay,” Scully goes on, and as hurtful as her words are, he chooses to ignore them. He stands there like a prop, watching her pace. There’s nothing she can do. There’s nothing to plan, to execute. There’s just nothing.

When she lost Emily, he watched her channel her emotions into signing forms, arranging the funeral, and everything that came after. After losing her father, he couldn’t stop her from throwing herself into work. He tried, only to realize that all he could do, was extend a hand, hoping that she’d reach for him. All he can do tonight, is do the same. He’ll stay here, waiting. He’ll be here for her when she’s ready.

“Mulder, I’m fine,” she says, the words a needle prick on his skin. He’s heard it before, countless times. He’s come to loathe the word. She mumbled it when she lay dying. Screamed it when he couldn’t stop staring at her, blood dripping from her nose.

“Thank you for waiting, I appreciate it.” Her voice is cool and smooth as steel. A shield she’s put up in front of herself. Like he’s not her friend or her partner. Like he’s not the man she asked to be the other half of the equation. He’s had a part in all of this, too. A piece of his heart is woven into her loss, into her pain.

“I think I’ll just go to bed.” She nods at him as though he were a stranger. “I’m just-” She doesn’t finish the sentence, leaving it hanging just like she leaves him standing there. His eyes follow her to her bedroom and his legs twitch, prepared to follow her. The bedroom door clicks shut behind her and the silence that follows tears the air from his lungs. He bites down hard on his lip, drawing blood. He no longer tries to stop the tears from falling.

*

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when his cell phone lights up, flashing Scully’s name. His head throbbing, he reaches for it and presses the phone to his ear.

“Hi,” he says softly, his tone full of tears and dreamless slumber.

“Hi.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, trying to get comfortable. He may be used to sleeping on a couch, but he’s not used to sleeping on one that’s designed for someone much shorter. His muscles protest as he sits up.

“No,” is all she replies. She’s quiet for so long that he wonders if she’s fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time she falls asleep on him. How often has he told her stories on the phone late at night, only to notice that her reactions become fewer and fewer until all he could hear was her even breathing or even a soft snore.

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” he asks.

“No.”

“I have good stories,” he teases, hoping to elicit the smallest of giggles, a reprieve. There’s only silence on the other end. The pain sits too deep, is still too raw.

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” he says quickly, trying to keep her on the line. She could hang up any second, and he’d still be here, waiting. “Scully, I know that you- but I need to know, to really know… are you okay?” The silence pressed down like a weight on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. The second stretches like a piece of old gum.

“No,” she admits, her voice trembling. “I’m not okay.” He gets up from the couch and tiptoes around the couch, hoping for a sign. “Can you- come back?” And there it is. He’s at her bedroom door in an instant, knocking softly. She opens it, her face tear-streaked and her eyes puffy.

“You didn’t leave?” Every word is soaked in tears.

“I didn’t leave.”

“Can you…” but her voice breaks before she can finish and he understands. He opens his arms wide and waits for her to step in. Once he has her, he starts rocking her gently.

“Thank you for letting me in,” he murmurs into her hair.

[narejane]

Hi!!

I was wondering Whats your OCS past story? (It’s fine if you don’t want to-) I was just curious 😭😭-

But btw I love your drawings! Your talented!

FINALLY A YAP SESSION

First thing first, Nare wasn't born as a smoke demon as she is now, she was indeed a human being before.

Nare was born on the western bridge woman empire (where the women drinks the river to get pregnant village) she had a happy life with her mother (haven't done a design yet just lemme cook later). But there is something that has been lurking on the deps of the forest, there is a woman who is 9ft tall and is the original smoke demon, the last of its kind.

here's a ref

Not official but it's just a scrap idea😭

But it was losing its form as time passes, she needed a new body to survive for an another eon. Nare was simply headed to get some resources to eat for her mother, she was picking some fruit and an unexpected thing happened. A demon appears suddenly and immediately killed Nare right on the spot. Later on the smoke demon was on her way to find a vessel and stumble upon Nare laying on the ground ripped piece by piece. She found a perfect vessel, and she picked up Nare as she starts to claim her body to possess.

First she started a fire as she drop Nare on to it to let the body dissolve in smoke, then she finally seperate the body she possessed before and merge in to Nare's as she forms the body. But the body couldn't keep it shape as it keeps falling apart, the demon tries to think of a way and spots and dead body of a demon, it was the one who killed nare and was unexpectedly dead at some point (the smoke demon killed the demon btw) the demon's body was indeed dead but the heart was still beating. You know what happens next??? Yep ur right, Nare unlocks cannibalism.

The smoke demon ate not only the heart but also the whole body itself, and that's how nare got her horns and tail. But moments after eating the heart, Nare eventually has her consciousness and was confused and scared as she realized what just happened and to herself. She screams and ran to the village to get help but the village only showed her fear and rage as they threatened her to left the village immediately and she was confused that they didn't remember her. She eventually ran away crying as she stumble upon a river (a normal one not the impregnated one) she realized that she looks extremely unrecognizable her features changed and the horns itself made her skin stretch a bit.

And so on, she was officially a lost child, she grew up on the woods, surviving, hiding away from humans she spots, eating demons cuz I said so, and learning her new body and discovering her abilities.

But then the jade emperor has been heard about bare and her actions and learned that she could be a help and a danger to the humans, so they let nezha to take her to the celestial realm, and you guess it, they kidnapped her while she was asleep typical- So she was kidnapped and was faced by the jade emperor, and she was scared at first and she calmed down as she learned that she was offered a jod on the celestial realm as their Exorcist/assassin on the demon, she was hesitant but she was offered to live on the celestial realm as he home and she immediately agreed. Nezha was tasked to keep an eye of her to keep her from making any trouble. And as time past she was titled as the Exorcist/assassin of the celestial realm and was good at it, and Nezha has been keeping an eye and taking care of her and started calling him "father" at that point cuz I said so.

And one day, she was tasked to take care of a demon Diguissed as a member of the head of the empire inside of an impire and ya guess it it's The Lady Bone Demon herself

First meeting:

So she has to keep an eye of her as a guard inside of the empire and yadayada Nare fell for her and tries to win her hear and LBD took the chance to use her power to achive her destiny and betrayed and kill nare and froze her in ice for a while until Nezha hear about what happened and saved her and that's how Nare got her head wound

This exact scene where she died yknow² I don't have the ref but it's this scene basta²

So time past Nare was heartbroken and hurt what happened and what LBD did to her and the story goes one with just her in her job and with Nezha by her side and meets the gang idk

That's it for now but I'm still cooking what's next dw🙏

[allsaiint]

↠ master chief/gender neutral!reader

↠ word count: 1800

↠ chapter one | chapter two

↠ masterlist

↠ description: john has no idea how to date, but he'll try his best.

↠ warnings: potential for out of character | potential for dismantling of canon | gender neutral!reader may change in future chapters

↠ author’s notes: this is based on a mix of game-canon chief and television series chief. take it as you will. if i did happen to use specific terminology to describe the reader, let me know.

-- /// --

The instant John entered the park, he sensed something was different. So late on a Wednesday evening, the only thing playing in the open air theatre was a group of young violinists, no more than high school aged. There were a few people milling about, most likely parents there to encourage the group. Others were gathered on the outskirts, at the top of the coliseum style seats. They were cloistered in twos and threes, their conversations jumbling together over the sounds of the music.

You were the lone exception, standing towards the top of the steps, half-hidden by shadows. John had never seen you before, though there had been a recent influx of newcomers to the Reach. It was mostly scientists, after a mass exodus had left gaping holes in their military programs.

He caught the way your brow furrowed a split second before he realised he had been staring. You shifted back when he tried for a smile, and gave it up as a lost cause. In some ways, the act of interacting with new people still bemused him.

He was surprised, then, to hear footsteps approach, and turned just enough to witness you falter three steps above him. Over the din of the crowd, he could hear the race of your heart, so fast that he was surprised when you managed an actual greeting.

“You’re new to Reach?” 

He had to change tracks at the last minute, turning it from a statement into a question. He had also had no designs to sit, but found himself doing so anyway when you introduced yourself.

You nodded. “I took a job at the USMC. Have you been here long?”

“My entire career,” he answered, and watched close for your reaction. He suspected that you were unaware of who he was, as most civilians were. Few knew what the Master Chief looked like without his helmet on, and a majority were within the USMC.

His suspicion was proven right when you asked, “You’re a Marine, I take it? How long have you been in?”

Something in the way you asked, or perhaps it was the lack of starstruck wonder he was so used to, made him lie through his teeth, answering, “Thirty years, give or take a few.”

Eyebrows raising, you replied, “You look so young, though.”

A product of spending so much time in a suit of armour, he supposed. Instead though, he said, “You look fairly young yourself. What made you want to take a job here?”

Your smile slipped, and you ducked your head to face your knees. “My homeworld was glassed not long ago. I figured here would be the safest place to go, after that.”

“I’m sorry,” John offered, watching the way you began to pick at a split in your lip before, very abruptly, you turned to snap a tie around your wrist. “I heard about it, after I returned from a deployment. I’m glad you made it out.”

“Me too,” you replied with a quiet laugh. “You’re actually the first person I’ve met outside of work here.”

That made John chuckle and over it, he heard the way your heartbeat skipped. “I’m honoured, really.”

Conversation stalled for a few moments, and John could see how you pretended to watch the violinists to make it seem natural. There was a tension in your shoulders that gave away your desire to say something though, and you were rubbing your palm with your thumb. You would press hard in the very centre then relent before looking at John. It was quite nice to know that your nervousness was genuine, and not borne of being in the presence of the great Master Chief.

“Do you deploy a lot?” you asked at last, drawing John from his thoughts. The way you asked was stilted, as though you had dredged the question from the depths of your desire to say anything at all. “It seems like I never see the same face twice.”

“I do,” he agreed, and wondered what to tell you. The people you would deal with most often were the general ranks, those who stood a worse chance of surviving an encounter with Covenant. “I’m between drops, at the moment, but one will likely come in in the next few days. Covenant has been busier than usual.”

“I heard rumours that they were looking for something, but couldn’t find it. The Spartans either found it first or destroyed it or something like that.” You snapped the tie on your wrist once, hard. “That’s why they started glassing so many planets— they were really upset, whatever they were looking for.”

It always surprised John to find out how close the rumours turned out to be to the truth. He often wondered who started with the truth, and how long it took the details to be lost. It reminded him of the game he played as a child with the other trainees. One would whisper a sentence from across a room or through a glass, and it was the listener’s job to relay what was said. It had taken him a long time to realise that the “game” was actually training, learning to lip-read. The more serious the children took the task, the better the results were, but not until their augmentations were there ever perfect results.

“Well, in any case,” you said, drawing John from his thoughts again and offering him a smile, “maybe when you’re here, you can come visit me at the aquarium. Since I’ll never be able to find and all.”

With a rough, quiet laugh, John said, “Could see about making that work. Do you have to go now?”

“Should,” you agreed, but lingered where you stood. “I have an early shift tomorrow, and a bit of a ride home.”

Shifting to his feet as well, he said, “Let me walk you?”

“Oh, it’s— I live all the way in Immoria. It’s too much to ask—”

“I don’t mind,” John said, cutting your rambling off with a small smile. He found them rising easier in your presence. “I’d rather be sure you get home safe. Call it paranoia.”

“Well, if you insist,” you agreed, though it was with an air of exasperation. The tick playing at the corner of your mouth indicated that you were pleased beneath that though.

The next bullet train was due in five minutes, and you sidled closer as the waiting crowd grew and closed in. The way you flinched was almost imperceptible when you leaned into John, and your laugh was embarrassed.

“I don’t even like eating in the caf at work,” you admitted, but allowed his hand to stay where it was on  your back. “I don’t care much for crowds since—”

“I get it,” John said as the train came to an abrupt stop in front of you. There was just the one, and it hurtled back and forth across the city twenty-four hours a day. You remained close as the train began to move, curling your free hand into his shirt when someone knocked into you. The culprit offered John a smile full of mock apology that dwindled beneath his scowl, until they shifted to give you your space.

You were busy watching the scenery pass, and startled when John asked, “If you dislike crowds, what do you do at the complex?”

“Oh, they stuffed me into some little corner room with a few other researchers. I don’t really have to deal with too many people. Thankfully.”

“I see. What did you do before this?”

You shook your head. “I travelled around, studying species in their natural habitats, how we affected them, boring stuff like that.”

“It doesn’t sound boring,” John said, and watched your eyes widen as though you were surprised to hear it. If he had to describe it, it sounded peaceful. “If you enjoyed it, it wasn’t boring.”

“Well, fair enough,” you said with a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. “Do you enjoy what you do?”

“Yes,” he replied on reflex. No one in recent memory had asked him that and, in truth, he was unsure of the truth in his answer. He had never been given the choice to decide if he enjoyed what he did or not.

Something must have shown through in his response, because the look you cast him came with a frown. You seemed to come to some decision or assumption on your own though, and uncurled your fist to lay flat on his chest.

A little too mired in his own thoughts again, John let silence reign after that. He followed you down the street with an absent mind, aware somewhere in the recesses of it that the inattention was unbecoming of the Master Chief. He found it happening with more frequency though, since—

“Well, this is me,” you said. “Thank you for walking me.”

“Like I said, I’d rather know you got home safe,” he replied, taking the building in. It was twenty something stories, but still short compared to most in the city. A pair of doormen stood just inside, prepared to open the doors for you.

You stalled again; it seemed you had something more to say. He heard the pace of your heart increase, and his focus narrowed in on the flicker of your pulse beneath your skin.

“Do you have a data pad, by chance?” you asked after a harsh swallow.

“It’s broken,” John said. His attention turned to your face just in time to register the way it crumpled in disappointment. With more gentleness, he continued, “I’d like to see you again, though.”

The words felt foreign, coming from him. If you noticed, you chose to ignore it when you agreed. John was surprised at how eager you seemed, and found it hard not to let it envelop him.

“At the park tomorrow? Same time?” he said. Again, he was met with eager agreement that made him smile. “Good. Goodnight then.”

Your sharp inhale in response was so subtle that even he almost missed it. Your eyes widened and your throat bobbed before you replied, “Night, John.”

Even you seemed to realise how hoarse you sounded and made to turn away, but not before John caught look of embarrassment flash across your face. He watched you scurry inside, and waited until the door was securely latched before allowing himself the laugh that had been brewing all evening.

[aghostnamedcalamity]

Hi Calamity! Got a few questions that pertain to your awesome fanfic. Firstly, how exactly did Joey end up working with Mordecai in the first place. Secondly, how do you think Nicodeme and Serafine would react if they found out that Mordecai has a son. Thirdly, do you think you'll write anymore fanfics with Mordecai and Benjamin.

Helloo! I’m glad to hear you’ve enjoyed the fic! I do hate that it doesn’t have more of the headcanon lore explained in it, at the time it was just a fun little thing I made thinking it wouldn’t garner much attention. But to answer your questions:

1. Joey met him again while working some shifts at Marigold and sort of forced his way into an “friendship”, if you can call it that. After a raid shook him up real good, he left bartending behind but needed money and kept nagging Mordecai to let him borrow some cash. Being in debt to Mordecai, Mordecai forced him to watch Benjamin when the whole mess initially unraveled as repayment. What was supposed to be a temporary arrangement turned into a prolonged one after Mordecai got a bit attached.

2. Ooof how do I think the Savoys will react? I think there is always an air of opportunism within the business they all work in. Knowing that sensitive of information about Mordecai is certainly giving them the upper hand…but I also think they are able to draw the line at an innocent child. Perhaps pester Mordecai about this new information to get him to comply but they would never actually do anything because it’s a bebé c:

3. I have a couple of drafts I wrote last year around the same time as the posted fanfic, but I never got around the posting them. Mostly because I realize now that in my attempt to keep Mordecai in-character, I think I might have made him come off as mean and uncaring to Benjamin and that was not my intention. So while I know what my intention was, I think the audience might not interpret that so I’d love to go through it and rewrite it with my “Mordecai cares despite his sociopathy” more clear. I added a little snippet of one under the cut for you, though! Hopefully you enjoy! It’s a bit of a silly slice of life one set before the main fic when Benjamin is much younger. Sorry for any mistakes!

“Fine, Benjamin,” he said as he lifted the pillow off his face. “You can sleep here tonight. And only tonight.”

“I can sleep here?!” Ben said happily as he scrambled onto his feet. “I can stay with you?!”

“Yes,” Mordecai sighed as he slapped the side of the bed closest to Benjamin. “But you have to stay on that side of the bed.”

The child inhaled in excitement as he began to try and pull himself onto the bed. He was relatively small, even for his age, so he struggled to push himself off the floor. It didn’t help that Mordecai had a particularly tall mattress, something he’d chosen purely for comfort reasons, but made it difficult for the child to climb in by himself. For a moment, Ben hung from wads of the fitted sheet he had grasped in his paws, using his feet to try and push his upper body over the top.

Mordecai’s eyes widened when he suddenly lost sight of the child and he heard a loud thud as something hit the floor. He leaned to look over the edge of the bed and at the boy sitting on the floor again.

Ben dusted his paws together as he whispered a small ouch to himself. He looked up at Mordecai and showed him the palms of his hurt paws.

“I fell down,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, I’ve discerned that much,” Mordecai replied. With a tired sigh he reached down and pulled the boy up with him, sitting him on the bed.

Another clap of thunder shook the wall behind them, accompanied by a bright flash of light that illuminated part of the room. Benjamin looked at Mordecai in horror and quickly covered his ears.

“I don’t like that!” he said with concern.

“You’re fine,” Mordecai exasperated. He pointed to the center of the design on the headboard with one of his claws. “Do you see this point here? This is the center of the bed. You need to stay on that side of it, alright? I don’t want you squirming your way onto my side. Understand?”

Benjamin nodded eagerly and patted the bed sheets beside him. “Don’t touch my side, dad!”

Mordecai frowned at the boy.

“Just lay down and go to sleep, will you?”

“But I don’t have a pillow!”

Mordecai sighed and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his paws. He used to have two pillows. But he only used one when he slept and so at some point he’d decided that keeping a single pillow in the middle of the bed felt much more beneficial to the spacial harmony of the area than two did.

“Here,” he said as he pushed his pillow to the child. He then turned onto his left side, facing away from Ben with his arms folded across himself.

“Thank you,” Benjamin told him, taking the pillow and making himself comfortable. He looked at the older feline expectantly. “Daddy, I said thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

The boy rolled around for a couple of seconds before settling in on his back, holding his hands together on his chest. After a brief pause of silence, the young boy turned to look at Mordecai’s back.

“Dad?”

Mordecai was staring straight ahead of himself; dead, emotionless eyes looking at nothing in particular and yet somehow appearing tired and drained.

“Why must you call me that?” Mordecai asked the darkness between them. “I’ve asked you so many times not to. My name is Mordecai.”

Benjamin thought about it for a second before shaking his head. “Your name is Mord.”

“No…it’s not,” Mordecai sighed. “That’s just what Joseph calls me, for whatever reason. He can’t even be bothered to struggle through anything more than one syllable. It’s no wonder his life sporadically just falls into shambles.”

“Joey calls me Benny Boy.”

“And I don’t like that, either,” Mordecai said bitterly. “What are you, some mascot for a laundry detergent?! I detest nicknames. They’re nothing more than a reflection of laziness and lack of discipline.”

Benjamin laughed. “My name is Benjamin Heller!”

“Yes...I suppose it is.”

The rain continued to knock against the window, creating a constant, soothing rhythm in the room. Ben yawned and rubbed his eyes with small fists before once again turning to look at the older cat.

“Dad, I have to go to the bathroom.”

Mordecai rolled back over to stare at the boy with a frown.

“Then go. What are you telling me for? I don’t need to know everything that goes on in your body.”

Ben had sat up and was watching the older feline while he picked at his claws nervously.

“I’m scared…”

“I’ve already told you, you will be fine! I’m confident you can handle this.”

“I don’t want to go alone.”

“You are being immeasurably annoying right now, Benjamin,” Mordecai said, seething at the child. “You are the youngest and somehow the most domineering person in my life. Why do we always have to do what you want?!”

“You can come with me really fast!” Benjamin continued as he motioned with his hand. “It’s really fast, daddy!”

“I did not spend all that time teaching you to go to the bathroom for you to do this to me.”

“You can hold my hand and I won’t be scared, I promise.”

“Does it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to hold your hand? Go to the bathroom!”

The young kitten shriveled into himself, squeezing his legs together and holding his paws between them, grimacing as he tried to hold it in. He bounced a little on his knees and looked at Mordecai anxiously.

Mordecai very roughly slapped his paw over his own face before aggressively kicking his feet around to throw off the blanket, getting up with an angry snarl.

“Come on,” he said forcefully as he yanked the boy off the bed and unceremoniously carried him under one arm, grabbing his glasses on the way out.

He made his way down the hall and to the doorway of the bathroom, clicking the light on to illuminate the facility. Then, he plopped the boy down at the entrance and pointed sternly into the room with one paw.

“Go.”

Benjamin danced foot to foot as he hesitated to go in. He turned and grabbed Mordecai’s other paw to try and pull him into the room with him, trying to gain himself the extra security.

Mordecai shook his head furiously and yanked his hand back.

“I am not going in there with you. The absolute best I can offer you at this moment is for me to stand outside this door until you’re done and that is it. So go!”

The older cat used his paws to push the child from behind and forced him into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He sighed and leaned his back against the wall, doing as he promised and waiting until the boy was finished. Finally, the sound of the toilet flushing and running water could be heard over the patter of the rain overhead.

“I’m done!” Benjamin exclaimed as he made his way out of the room, drying his small paws against his nightshirt.

“Did you wash up exactly the way I showed you?”

The small child nodded eagerly and held his paws up for Mordecai to see.

“I washed with soap! You can smell if you want, it’s like a flower.”

“I would not like to do that, thank you,” Mordecai replied flatly as he watched the boy smell his own paws with a grimace. “Stop doing that. Now come on, I’d like to get to sleep at some point today.”

The older feline then clicked off the bathroom light and turned to start making his way back to his room. Benjamin scuttled after him, looking around himself to ensure nothing scary was following them. He held onto the fabric of Mordecai’s sleeping pants tightly, unintentionally pulling them as he struggled to keep his strides even with Mordecai’s longer legs.

The black cat noted this with displeasure, thinking perhaps the child would tear the silk of his nightwear with his claws. He was young and still not fully conscious of them it seemed, occasionally snagging soft fabrics he fiddled with. The last thing this night needed was one of his favorite pajama pants getting a rip through them.

He let out an exhausted sigh before reaching down and grabbing the arm that was clinging to him as close to the shoulder as he could, pulling him high to catch him in his other arm. Sometimes, things were not worth the confrontation. Especially when he yearned for sleep more than he desired to correct behavior in that moment.

Benjamin reveled in this decisions that seemed mostly in his favor, grinning happily at Mordecai now that he was at his same eye level.

“What’s that?” he asked Mordecai, pointing very closely at the glasses sitting on Mordecai’s nose.

Mordecai pulled his face away from the finger. “Don’t do that.”

“Okay…what is it?”

“They’re my glasses,” Mordecai said in mild annoyance. “You’ve seen them before.”

Benjamin continued to stare at them intently. “But why do you put them on your face every time?”

“Because I need them to see,” Mordecai sighed, finally arriving at the room. He let the child slide out of his arms and onto his designated side of the bed, dusting the sleeve of his nightshirt after. “I’ve had a condition called myopia since I was young. It makes it difficult for me to see certain things so I need to wear them most of the time.”

“I like them!” Benjamin said as he watched Mordecai place them on his bedside table in awe. “I wish I had one of those.”

“Well, I suppose that’s good. You’ll likely need them in a couple of years,” Mordecai said as he got into his bed, letting his entire body relax as he enveloped himself in the comfort of his linens. “Unless your eyesight takes after that woman. But it has been a fairly dominant gene in the family so far. At the very least, it’ll be interesting to see if you manage to evade what no other Heller has.”

“You’re a Heller feller!”

Mordecai looked at the boy in visible confusion, who smiled back at him as he, too, let himself fall onto his back.

“Joey said that,” the boy explained.

“Of course he did,” Mordecai said as he shook his head in disapproval. “Can you please go to sleep now? I’m tired of talking to you.”

“Okay, I will,” Benjamin responded as he burrowed himself deeper into the covers, eyes squeezing shut as he let go of a large yawn. “Goodnight…”

[featheredclover]

Orphic

Epilogue

Read from the beginning

Also on Wattpad

Chapter Seven>

A burst of champagne bubbled out, glinting against the shine of the beautiful chandelier. That shine still dimmed against the glow Khushi was brimming with.

Her hand firmly ensconced in his, she looked at the happy faces across the hall and let out a sigh of relief.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“I am glad we had a small engagement party “

He smiled.

“Yes well, Garima aunty agreed to let go for now. But the wedding is going to have all of Lucknow and Delhi and some more.”

She groaned, “Just when I thought I had to deal with less people! “

“Less people?”

Khushi jumped as her mother joined them.

“My only daughter is getting married. It will be a wedding Lucknow couldn’t have dreamt of witnessing!”

“Of course aunty. Anything you wish”, Arnav said with an endearing wink.

“Traitor”, she muttered under her breath.

And one look at his smug face, she knew he had heard her.

“Come Khushi, you have to greet some of our friends” 

And with that she was stirred across the hall.

—————

“K! This house is massive!”

She smiled at Preetika.

“I don’t even know when Arnav bought it!”

Payal laughed, “Engagement present from Junior Raizada hah?”

“I guess”

“Ladies” Noah greeted them, placing a kiss on Preetika’s blushing cheeks.

With raised eyebrows, the girls coughed away, sharing a meaningful look.

Khushi saw Akash saunter up to them with flutes of champagne held precariously in his hands.

Preeto, not letting the spotlight rest on her, said “So, Akash you have been dating Payal for three years and here Arnav is on the way to be hitched after just a few days! Where is the ring, man?”

“Preeto” Payal warned her with a sharp glance.

To their surprise, Akash instead of his ever ready practical response flushed and took a clumsy sip from his glass.

“Here comes the man of the hour” Noah announced.

“Hello” Arnav slipped an arm around her waist, his eyes flitting over others.

“Nice house Raizada “ Preeto whistled.

“Yes Arnav, it's really beautiful. When are you giving us a tour?” 

“Thank you. Um…the house is not finished yet. Even this drawing room was done up just in time for today”

Khushi glanced up at him curiously. She also hadn't seen the rest of the house. It felt strange. To know that by the end of the year, they’ll live here as man and wife. He will belong to her.

Whirlwind romance was too tame a term to describe their tale, she thought with a secret smile.

“Come with me” his whisper flooded her senses.

“Where?” she whispered back.

He said nothing. His eyes seducing her against her sense of common propriety.

Escaping? From their own engagement party?

——————

They stood in front of a beautifully embossed door. 

“Are we going to go in or….”

“Shush” he took out a set of keys.

He picked one and opened the door, motioning for her to go in first.

She stepped in. Her gasp echoed across the room.

A beautiful oak wood table dominated the room. Shelves and shelves lined with books. The curtains in her favourite shade of green. 

And the best of all, a magnificent velvet red chair.

“You didn’t!”

“Do you like it?”

She turned around to see Arnav look around, his hands in his pocket, the firm set of his lips giving his nerves away.

She smiled and turned towards the shelves.

“You bought these?” she asked as she ran a hand along the binding of ‘ Interior designing: The Bible��.

“I had a little help from your aunt”, his eyes wide, seemingly still searching for her approval.

She walked towards the chair. She settled herself, crossed her legs and flashed him a smile.

“Khushi,” he warned.

“What? No whiskey tonight?” She giggled.

Her smile dipped for a moment, as Arnav reached for a desk behind him.

Flashing a beautiful gold whisky flask at her, he poured down a glass.

“You are indeed a devil!” 

He raised a perfect eyebrow.

“A devil?”

“Yup” she said with much glee.

“So that makes you an angel, hah?” He handed her the glass, “An angel who trapped the devil”

She took a sip, feeling the burn down her throat, warming her chest.

“It’s the other way around Arnav”

“Really?” He bent his head down to take a sip from the glass, locking his eyes with hers.

Khushi swallowed. 

Damn him

He rested his arms on the chair’s edge and took her lips in a rough kiss. He tasted of their shared whiskey and something more. Something inherently Arnav.

She melted against him, her lips moving softly against his pressure. He slowed the kiss down, taking her breath away.

Blinking, as he kissed her forehead.

“This is your new office “

“New office?”

“Yes, my gift to you. And well with your aunt's blessings.”

“You are giving me an office” she cupped his face as the implications of the gesture sank in.

Her own office 

She gasped as she was lifted off the chair into his arms.

“Arnav” she admonished as her arms winded around his neck.

“I am going to be your husband Khushi, and it’s my duty to know every little dream. Every little wish of yours”

She gave him a watery smile, her heart marvelling at the man she had fallen in love with.

Planting a soft kiss on her cheek, he mumbled into her ear, “Let’s head back before they send the CBI behind us, shall we?”

She laughed, her eyes filled with love.

“Let’s “ she said solemnly .

Arnav grinned. And she was lost once again.

The End

Thank you for reading 'Orphic'! Inspired by the era of vintage mills and boon romances, it's a story I really enjoyed writing! Let me know what you think of the story (and also any suggestions to improve my writing) !

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