#I am glas this is out

[poesielibre]

The Head Experiment is now live !

Poesielibre's Head Experiment at Baldur's Gate 3 Nexus - Mods and community (nexusmods.com)

This is the initial upload, I will follow up with patches probably this weekend and will probably update with custom wrinkle maps and any small fix necessary

[mrfoox]

Unfortunately I am the type of person that will tell you everything about myself but also nothing, hope that helps

[uglypastels]

Logan x reader where the reader is scott's younger sister and they're in a secret relationship because she's younger/obviously doesn't want her brother to know. Maybe Scott tries to set her up with someone else or she gets hurt on a mission or something because she got too cocky and everything comes to the surfaces. Sorry I know that's now very descriptive🙈

no don't be sorry this was perfect, if not giving me too much to word with lol. this is so great I wasn't really sure how to incorporate all the elements, but I hope what I managed to do was still good. I certainly had a lot of fun writing it lol. also, apologies if there are some dumb mistakes/errors. i am so sleep deprived but just really wanted to post this before going to bed.

warning: Smut 18+ only. MDNI. no condom [wrap it before you tap it pls]. p in v. fingering. swearing. degradation ["slut" is used]. accidentally almost public stuff. quickie. sub/dom dynamic. un/intentional cockblocking.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

‘Oh my god,’ you moaned out as Logan pressed you against the wall of the small janitor’s closet. It was too cliché to even think about it. And who would have ever expected the Academy to have a janitor’s closet? If you thought about it, it was almost as if the universe wanted you to take this opportunity and hook up with him in the little cubby.

The second you saw him that morning in his loose-fitted long-sleeve and those boot-cut jeans, the only thing you could think about for the rest of the day was how much you needed him. You had managed to survive past noon, and then you had to go and stumble into the garage and catch him working on his motorbike.

His long-sleeve was discarded to reveal the white, now slightly dirty, tank top. His arms were toned and tanned. You watched him just long enough for him to notice your presence, then to grab the towel hanging from his back pocket and wipe his hands clean. 

‘C’mere, Princess,’ he called you over with two fingers, and you almost felt like you had gained the ability to float so quickly had you made your way over to him. Next thing you know, he had picked you up, his hands firmly on your ass, yours in his hair, and your lips colliding in a passionate crash of a kiss. 

‘Fuck, I missed this,’ you moaned out in a desperate moment to catch a breath with your chest already heaving. ‘Missed you.’ You kissed the corner of his mouth, getting the most satisfaction at how a smile formed in the spot where your lips touched him. Neither of you could help yourselves. The urges you felt were nearly animalistic, but when you were around him, you also felt like you were up in the clouds, feeling light as a feather and giddy like an idiot. The need for him was coursing through your veins. 

‘Mmm, I know, sugar,’ his voice came deep from his throat in a growl full of yearning. ‘Gonna let me have my way with you, yeah?’

All you could respond with was a desperate moan. So caught up in the delicious feeling of his body against yours, that you nearly missed the beeping announcement of the garage doors opening. You would have gone on unaware of anything going on around you if it wasn’t for Logan pulling away and setting you back on the ground. It was like a switch flipped on inside your brain, and just in time, as the doors opened and a car drove up as you took your precautionary steps away from Logan, who had gone back to working on his bike. 

The car halted in its designated parking spot, and you weren’t surprised to find your older brother, Scott, stepping out of it. Only he would have such perfectly unfortunate timing.

‘Hi Scott,’ you tried to sound chipper about bumping into him, and absolutely not like he had just interrupted a much-needed make-out session with your boyfriend that he knew nothing about. How you had managed to keep it a secret for all these months, you had no idea. 

‘Hey,’ he smiled politely you way, as he had already made his way to the exit. As always, you couldn’t see his eyes through the red glasses he wore, and yet you could tell exactly where he was looking at with that judgemental look of his. But Logan didn’t pay him any attention, which might have even been the bigger insult than if he had quipped something your brother’s way. You knew he wanted to, though, but you also knew that he didn’t want to insult your brother right in front of you. 

You waited for Scott to walk out of the room, but to your surprise, your brother turned around to you. ‘Are you coming?’

‘She was about to.’ You heard Logan mumble under his breath as he… You weren’t sure what exactly he was doing with that bike with the screwdriver. You never understood much of mechanics.

‘Uhm, yeah,’ you responded, ‘I uhh– I just wanted to ask Logan something. I’ll just be a moment.’

‘No, I’ll see you later, bub,’ Logan caught you off guard. ‘This might still take a while and I don’t want to keep you waiting.’

‘Oh, ok.’ You pushed the disappointment off your face before you started walking to the exit where Scott stood, still none the wiser. As soon as you walked into the corridor, you made up an excuse to go the other way and walked as fast as you could without making it necessarily suspicious if he had glanced your way.

The hours that followed went by painfully slow. You kept your eye out for Logan, but he was nowhere to be seen all afternoon. Dinner had come and gone, and you were returning to your room, already having made your peace with the fact that today was simply one of those days where fate kept you apart.

And exactly at that moment, Logan turned the corner.

‘Where the hell were you all day?’ you questioned, annoyed, but no matter how angry you pretended to be, the grin on your face at the sight of your boyfriend was quite clear in meaning.

‘I did have stuff to finish on my bike.’ He took a few large strides your way, ‘and then some kids needed help with something.’

‘Aww, that’s sweet.’ You leaned into him, your chin on his chest, as you looked up into his eyes.

‘Don’t act too surprised, Princess.’ His arms immediately wove themselves around your waist, and you slowly leaned for a kiss. It was risky to do this in an open hallway where anyone could walk in, but in the moment, you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to feel him, all over you. The desperation for it grew with each second and was ready to explode. 

That was all in theory, of course, since as soon as you heard any threat, the risk-taking daredevil part of you immediately hid, and you were looking for an escape route. It was two pairs of footsteps this time that echoed through the hallways. You cursed under your breath. 

Just your luck to be standing next to a door. Trying its limits again, you pulled down at the door handle and sighed with relief as it opened. You quickly slipped inside, pulling Logan in behind you by the hand. He closed the door back behind him just in time as the footsteps, which you now recognised to be Scott and Jean’s, along with their voices, moved across the spot where you had just been standing.

‘Are they—’ but your question never was finished, as your lips were caught in a haste kiss. It was pitch black in the tiny room, but you heard Logan pull the lightbulb cord. The next thing you know, the faint yellow light illuminated what you now recognised to be the janitor’s cubby. A closet large enough to fit a large shelfcase filled with cleaning products, buckets, and towels. But Logan needed no time to orientate himself. He was already all over you. One hand pinning your leg up against his upper thigh, leading you against the wall. 

‘Oh my god,’ you moaned out as you felt the pressure and structure of the room against your shoulders, Logan’s chest against yours. His hand stroke up and down your leg, squeezing at the soft flesh of your ass.

‘Wanna be my good little girl?’ Logan growled into your ear.

‘Yes,’ you whined, desperate for more than just his kiss. ‘Fuck, yes.’

‘Want me to fuck your tight little pussy, sugar? Just like you’ve been begging me for? What you say, you little slut?’ At the sound of his words, all of yours simply escaped you and so you could only respond in a series of moans and whines. All sounds that brought Logan immense joy and arousal. ‘Yeah, thought so.’ It had been a very conscious choice you had made that morning by wearing a skirt. Not that you had expected to end the day in this closet, but you were sure it would end somewhere in Logan’s grip. And so you were fully prepared. 

His fingers smoothed over your panties, pressing over your slit, feeling the material get soaked through just that one simple touch. But it wasn’t enough. For either you or him. He kept toying with you for a few more minutes, never crossing the material barrier of your underwear, long strokes up and down, pushing in closer, almost as if nothing was there to separate you. 

‘Please,’ you cried out, ‘baby, please. I need–’

‘What do you need, sweetheart? C’mon, use your words?’ God, you hated when he got so cocky. You could never take much of his teasing. Then again, you weren’t in here to exactly last long. 

‘Need your fingers. Please.’ 

‘Good girl,’ he kissed your forehead, snapped the band of your underwear to make you whine so prettily as he loved, and pulled the panties down your legs. 

Another filthy moan left you as his fingers slowly filled you up. The expletives rolled off your tongue in the rhythm of his thrusts. He kept a steady pace, and one that left you shaking against him. So much so that soon enough, he had to hold you up by the arm, pinning you down even harder. One leg propped up high for even easier access to his favourite part of you. 

‘Such a good slut, taking anything I give you, anywhere I want you.’ His voice could practically get you over the edge alone, and he knew that well enough on his own, and so he kept talking. ‘Can’t wait to get my hard cock in you, Princess. Gonna fill you up so good. Fuck. Just you wait—’

‘No, please,’ you cried out.

‘What’s that? My girl can’t wait a few more minutes for her cock?’ He kissed your neck so ferociously it was more like his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, and the sensation left shivers down your whole body. He raised his mouth up to directly speak against your ear.

‘So fucking desperate. Wish you could see yourself now. Just know you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?’ He punctuated the question with one final deep thrust of his large fingers. ‘You gonna cum? No, no, no. Not yet. You’re gonna let me have my fun first, isn’t that right?’

‘Yes.’ was all you managed to say. Then his lips clashed with yours in another of your sloppy kisses. Your hands found themselves in his hair for the second time that day, and you already felt yourself falling into bliss, and that was all without even the feeling of his length finally pushing deep in you. If only you could scream the pleasure you felt. But for now, in the closet, you would make due by digging your nails into his shoulder. That, in turn, only got Logan more riled up as his thrust grew in pace. He hit all your right spots evenly, hard and deep. If he kept going like that, and you were sure he would, you didn’t know just how much longer you would last.

‘Fuck, I’m gonna–’ your voice was breathy and out of focus, as all that was on your mind was him inside you. 

‘Yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, come for me. Come all over my cock.’ he growled the words with the same intensity and desperation for release you felt.

You were so close. Just ready to burst. Moment away when—

When suddenly, a knock on the other side of the door halted the both of you. In a sudden moment, everything washed away with the power of a tsunami. Leaving nothing behind but emptiness.

Someone cleared their throat. Someone who you could already recognise from that simple gesture. 

‘Alright, it’s past curfew, lovebirds, knock it out.’ You could hear in your brother’s voice just how uncomfortable he was by catching two, what he assumed to be students, clearly hooking up. Your guess was that the room had not been as soundproof as you imagined a cubby to be. Or you were that much louder. 

You looked up at Logan, who had already started zipping up his jeans. There was another firm knock on the door.

Well, if Scott had already felt embarrassed, you were about to make it ten times worse.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[colonelarr0w]

Can you write one where Astarion realizes that Tav is acting strangely because it's actually Orin and the actual Tav is kidnapped by her?? Thank you so much and I love your work!!

A/N - Oh my god I absolutely adore the trope of kidnapped lover being rescued (the parasites in me crave the angst). I hope you like this, I had a lot of fun writing it! So thank you @fanficlov-3-r <3

I Know You

Preview - "And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, '(Y/N) isn't amongst us.'"

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, canon BG3 violence

Word Count - 3.9k

Astarion prided himself on his ability to have memorized everything about you, from how your nose scrunched when you saw something you disliked to how your eyes sparkled when you noticed him staring at you from across the fire. It was those little things that simply made you … well … you. 

Which was why he found it very offputting when he noticed your excessive alcohol intake while attending a Tiefling party. Yes, you liked to indulge in a glass of wine or two while you chatted happily with Astarion or any of your other companions – but never had he seen you cradle an entire bottle of wine to yourself and drink it in its entirety. 

But that behavior was only one of multiple that he had noticed throughout the night; you were dancing with any Tiefling who offered their hand, you seemed to stray away from him and the others throughout the night, and the smile you wore did not reach your eyes in the slightest. It seemed fake, similar to the smiles that Astarion had once flashed at you to get your clothes off. 

“Is it just me or does (Y/N) seem a little … off?” Shadowheart comments, her eyebrow raising as she watches you indulge another Tiefling in a drunken dance. You stumble over both your feet and his own, a detail that both she and Astarion narrow their eyes at. 

For an oh-so-grateful leader, you were being careless tonight. 

Astarion’s eyes follow those of Shadowheart’s, landing on you just as you are finishing a dance with your fifth Tiefling of the night. He bows to you shakily, and in return, you curtsy – another move that Astarion had never thought he would see you perform. 

“I must say that I agree with Shadowheart. Excuse me for a moment,” Astarion abandons his half-empty wine glass, sliding it across the bar. The bartender raises a brow at Astarion, but says nothing. 

You chuckle heartily as a Tiefling female approaches you, in her hands a sparkling glass of champagne. You take it from her the moment it’s offered, just about to bring it to your lips before a pale hand clasps over your shoulder. 

“Ah-ah darling, I think that’s enough with the drinking for one night,” Astarion says with a fanged smile, angling himself so that he’s able to pluck the champagne glass from your hands quickly. You turn to him, eyebrows pinched together in an expression that mixes frustration and shock – as if you had been caught doing something that you shouldn’t. 

“Come off Astarion, I can indulge if I so choose,” you retort quickly, fingers extending towards your glass. Astarion lifts his arm, the glass just barely out of your reach. “You are indulging tonight, are you not?”

He chuckles, his chest rumbling against your shoulder as his scarlet eyes rake over your figure. Something was wrong, it wasn’t just your general composure – it was everything down to the very way that you stood on your own two feet. 

“While that is true, I am watching what I indulge in,” Astarion says, already glancing at Shadowheart, who nods knowingly. She mumbles something inaudibly then to Gale, and soon a secret message is relayed over all of your companions. 

The Tiefling female had long since left your side, only adding to your annoyance that Astarion had come to your side. You turn sharply to face him, eyes narrowing at him. 

“And just explain to me why you thought it necessary to disrupt my fun?” you snap, glaring daggers into the vampire who stands in front of you. Astarion merely sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. His eyes flicker over you again, and it is in that moment that he realizes something … you were most certainly not you. 

And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, “(Y/N) isn’t amongst us.” 

“Because I know you (Y/N), and right now,” Astarion pauses only to yank you closer, lowering his lips to your ear. “You are not who you say that you are.”

You freeze in his arms, eyes flickering to look at him. The crease in your eyebrows vanishes, your expression of frustration replaced now by one of shock. “What are you on about?”

“Oh come on now, don’t play dumb with me,” Astarion growls, his grip over your wrist tightening, “I know (Y/N), and she would never indulge in such things of her own accord.”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, not protesting as a very angered Astarion drags you out of the Tiefling party. He is quickly flanked by Shadowheart and the others, none of whom offer you looks of sympathy – if anything, they look just as angered as the vampire in front of you. 

The moment that your feet touch camp, your wrists and ankles are promptly tied by Karlach, who offers you no answers even as you demand to know what in the hells is going on. Astarion stands quietly at her side, his arms folded over his chest whilst his mind promptly races.

Where were you? Who was sitting in your place? Where the hells were you?

With a singular wave of his hand over your body, Gale reveals Orin to the others, then steps back and glares down his nose at her. In response, her lips only turn upward in a grin, one that sends a shiver down the spines of those that surround her. 

“Where is–”

“Oh please, save me the dramatics,” Orin says with a roll of her eyes, adjusting herself so that she sits comfortably. Her attention moves to Astarion, her smile widening at the sight of the expression that he wears. 

“You have five minutes to answer our questions before–”

Orin’s head tilts in Lae’zel’s direction, her eyes crinkling as her smile widens impossibly further. Her lips part, a delighted chuckle falling from her lips. “Before what? You kill me? If I die, (Y/N)’s location dies with me.”

In a flash of white and silver, the blade of a dagger is pressed against the skin of Orin’s neck, pressed down just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. Astarion kneels in front of Orin, narrowed eyes glaring daggers into her as his lips pull back in an angered growl. 

“You will reveal (Y/N)’s location lest you want to end up a paled mess on the ground.” He was shocked by how much your disappearance had affected him – especially considering that he was supposed to be keeping his affection for you a secret from the others. 

There was a reason behind his secrecy, however, a reason that you had agreed with when he had first proposed the idea to you. It was for your safety, for your protection. But it seemed like even with that … he still couldn’t keep the one thing that kept him sane safe. 

Orin chuckles, leaning forward so that her nose just barely grazes his own. He can feel her breath as it fans over his face – it disgusts him. 

“Is that so?” Her head tilts, another delighted chuckle bubbling up her throat and spilling over her lips. Astarion pushes the blade further against her, ignoring the yells of warning delivered by the other members of the party. 

His eyes narrow, his eyebrows pinch together, and his expression hardens. Orin only chuckles again, sighing dreamily in a way that reminds Astarion of a hopelessly lovesick girl. Gods, what he would give to plunge the blade of his dagger into her neck. 

“Fine, but I hope you know I’m not yielding because of your … intimidation,” Orin murmurs, pouting childishly as Astarion pulls her to her feet, still glaring at her. He says nothing as he drags her past the others, not checking over his shoulder to see that the others have followed him.

< … >

Another chilled shiver runs up the length of your spine, using your vertebrae as a ladder. You turn uncomfortably onto your side, trying once again to tug your ankles from their shackles. All you’re met with is the sound of rattling metal. 

It had been a few hours … or perhaps even a few days since you last saw the others. You didn’t know – perhaps time worked differently when you were captured. 

The last you remembered, you were walking silently along a forest pathway with Astarion a few feet behind you. You were engrossed in the beauty of the willow trees that hung silently over you, their branches serving you the beautiful luxury of shade that covered you from the sun’s blaring rays. 

Just as you turned a corner in the forest, a cold hand that wasn’t Astarion’s clasped over your own, tugging you away into a forest patch. One good knock to the side of the head … and that was the last that you were able to clearly remember. 

When you awoke, your ankles were shackled to a wall and your wrists were bound with rope, rubbing uncomfortably against your skin and leaving behind angry red marks. 

Your body had been littered with marks; cuts, bruises, and gashes. At first, they hadn’t hurt you at all – but you blamed that entirely on your adrenaline. Now every cut burned, every bruise ached, and every gash felt as though it would never stop bleeding. 

Surely every vampiric creature within a 50-mile radius could smell your blood … especially considering how much of it lay in a disgusting puddle surrounding your body. 

A shaky breath escapes you, one that you surely hoped would be your last. Your teary eyes flicker around the cell that you’d been thrown into; the cell that lacked even so much as a window. You were completely disconnected from the outside world, and for a singular moment, you thought that maybe you had died. 

And maybe you were okay with that now … with dying. 

Even though for so long you had tried your hardest to protect everyone – practically throwing your life down on the line for the lives of your companions – being captured was making you realize something. 

Maybe they didn’t care about you nearly as much as you cared about them.

If they cared, they would be searching for you. If they cared, you wouldn’t be bleeding out in some dank old cell with no way to know what time of day it was. If they cared … they would prove it, wouldn’t they?

A choked sob claws its way up your throat, legs curling inward. You wrap your arms around them, hugging them against your chest as your body curls inward into a fetal position. 

They didn’t care. Not Gale, not Karlach, not Lae’zel, not Shadowheart. 

Not even Astarion.

Astarion …

After everything that you had done for him. You had spared him that morning while walking with Shadowheart. You had let him stay in your camp even though he spat venomous insults each time you interacted politely with him. Hells, you had even let the damn man feed on you. 

In exchange for your blood, he was letting you rot alone in a cell. 

So much for helping others, you think quietly to yourself, tears slipping down your cheeks as your lashes flutter shut. A gentle numbness spreads over you as if someone had draped a blanket over you. It felt nice. It felt safe. 

Your shoulders relax, your lips part. 

One gentle breath falls from your lips before all goes silent.

< … >

“Come on now, I’ve led you right to where she is! The least you can do is entertain a conversation,” Orin complains loudly, huffing childishly as Astarion continues shoving her forward. 

There was no lie to her words, she had led Astarion and the others to where she had thrown you – a dimly lit dungeon hallway that was only filled with the sounds of low groans and dripping water, but even those had become scarce the longer that they walked. 

“The only thing I’ll entertain is your demise,” Astarion bites out, though he desperately wishes that he had kept his mouth shut. Orin doesn’t fail to catch the tremble in his voice – the vulnerability that seeps from his words. 

Her lips curl, another delighted chuckle rumbling somewhere deep inside of her chest. Her eyes flicker to catch a glimpse of Astarion’s profile, her chuckle deepening as she notices the emotional turmoil sketched into his features. 

“I wonder what you will do to me when you realize that she’s–”

“Hush,” Astarion hisses, reaching down and yanking the bonds around Orin’s wrist. The rub of the rope against her skin is enough to silence her. “Not another word out of you, wench.”

Orin stifles the small whimper of pain that had threatened to fall from her lips, instead turning to the cell that they were nearing; your cell. 

At the sight of the metal bars and uneven stones, she giggles. Astarion passes her off to Shadowheart, ignoring the cleric’s protests as he approaches the cell. 

“Oh shit.”

The world seems to go completely silent at the sight that lies before Astarion’s eyes, a sight that he immediately wishes that he could forget. 

You lay on your side with your back facing the cell’s door, blood – your blood – surrounding you in a crimson puddle. The bits of skin that Astarion can see are littered with cuts and bruises, your legs covered in gashes that continue to drip with fresh blood. 

In any other situation, Astarion would have marveled at both the sight and smell of your blood … perhaps even allowed himself to indulge in it. 

But now?

Gods, he had never been more disgusted by any one sight or smell. 

“Astarion? What’s – oh my Gods,” Karlach raises a hand to her mouth, palm covering her lips as she gazes upon the same sight as Astarion. The others join her, and each of them falls silent. “You take … her … and get out of here.”

Shadowheart nods, shooting Orin a sharpened glare before tugging the shapeshifter back down the way that they had come, ignoring her yells of protests and the way that she struggles against the ropes that bind her wrists together. 

With one tug at the already worn-down metal, Karlach disconnects the bars of the cell. She steps inside, carefully approaching you before copying her previous actions and removing the shackles from around your ankles. 

“(Y/N)?” she murmurs down to you, lightly shaking your shoulder while simultaneously trying to be sure that she does not burn you – the last she wants is to add to your injuries. 

She’s pushed aside by Astarion, who kneels beside you and feels his breath hitch at the sight of your paled face. Your cheeks have lost their usual rosy color, replaced instead by a white that looked as though it could rival the color of his hair. 

“Shit,” is the only thing that he’s able to say properly before he scoops you into his arms. He shakes on his feet for a moment, the sudden weight in his arms debilitating his balance. He says nothing as he strides past the others, making a beeline for the exit.

< … >

The first thing that you feel is a dull ache, then followed by a wave of pain that has you shooting upright and promptly vomiting onto whatever surface happens to be beside you. The moment you’ve finished emptying your stomach, a piece of cloth is offered to you by a pale hand – a familiar one this time. 

Hesitantly, you take it, dabbing the cloth against your mouth before looking up to who had handed it to you. 

“Astarion?”

“That would be my name, yes darling,” Astarion responds, though his tone doesn’t hold his usual flirtatious lilt that you had grown so used to. No, he sounds exhausted … it made you wonder just how long he had sat at your bedside. 

Your eyes roam over him, taking note of the tiny, barely-there bags that rest beneath his eyes. For a man who cared so deeply about appearance, he surely looked as though he had let himself go … likely because of you.

As much as you wish to take him into your arms and comfort you, a fleeting thought passes through your mind — he had taken his sweet time in finding you. 

If the roles had been reversed, and it had been Astarion who was taken from you, you already knew that you would have searched Heaven and Earth trying to find him. No stone would have been left unturned, no witness left unspoken to … you would have stopped at nothing. 

But it felt as though Astarion hadn’t cared enough, if he had, you wouldn’t have been as badly wounded as you were. You wouldn’t have laid in that cell for as long as you have, not that you knew the length of time in which you had been missing anyway. 

Astarion’s head lifts at the sound of you rustling, body scooting back from him until your spine rests against the headboard of your bed. You lift your knees to your chest, hugging around them. 

“Darling?”

You remain silent, but you allow your eyes to raise to meet his awaiting gaze. He waits patiently, though you can’t help but feel as though he’s analyzing you.

“How long have I been gone?” you ask. Astarion pauses, scarlet eyes flickering away from you. He swallows, you can see the emotional turmoil that swims in his eyes. Answer me, you usher in your mind. 

“Orin wouldn’t tell us,” Astarion answers honestly, voice wavering as he recounts his angered questioning of the shapeshifter. She had only giggled in his presence and “answered” his question with another question of her own. 

You remain silent, nodding to yourself as you glance down at the bandages that adorn your arms and legs. It makes you wonder if Astarion had patched you himself … or perhaps he had made one of your other companions do it. 

You lift your head, noticing now that Astarion’s attention was focused elsewhere. His expression looks identical to your own — caught in his own mind. Guilt. 

Did he feel guilty?

“Does anything—“ he pauses to clear his throat, “—anything hurt you?”

”Just my arms and legs,” you answer. Astarion nods, inhaling deeply and shifting in his chair. For some twisted reason, you want him to stand up and leave. Maybe it was to further prove your point, or maybe you just wanted to be alone. 

You’d never really know the true answer. 

He hums, nodding to himself before he shifts again. For a fleeting moment, he debates on whether or not he should stand and exit — it was clear that you wanted your space anyway. 

Astarion knew you … and he knew that right now, you certainly didn’t want him around. Never were you short with him, but your tone insinuated that you wanted nothing to do with him. 

Not that he could honestly blame you. 

And so, he stands from his chair. You don’t lift your head to look at him again … telling. 

“Why did you take so long to come for me?”

He freezes, feeling as though someone had doused him in freezing water. His back stands rigid; you could see the way that his spine visibly tenses the moment that his mind processes what it was that you had asked him. 

You snap your jaw shut the moment that the words fall from your lips, regret filling your senses. Sheepishly, you look down, staring at your lap and screwing your eyes shut. 

You freeze at the feeling of arms wrapping over your shoulders, tugging you against a chest that you had spent many nights resting against. His skin felt cold against yours, a welcome contrast to the heat that was currently making you very uncomfortable. 

Astarion’s cheek rests against the side of your head, his hands squeezing at your waist while also being mindful of the injuries that you had sustained. He sighs shakily into your hair, feeling himself relax as he feels you reciprocate his embrace. 

“The moment that I realized that I was not interacting with you, I went out to find you,” Astarion confesses, holding you tighter as he recounts the fear in the moment when he realized that you were not you. 

You remain silent, simply soaking up the comfort that Astarion’s arms provides you with. Your head rests comfortably in the junction that connects his neck and his shoulder, nose buried into his neck. 

“You have … absolutely no idea how frightened I was,” he whispers, his voice so low that it even the rustle of the blankets overpowered his words. His arms shake where they rest around your waist, his fingernails just barely digging into the exposed skin of your waist. “The prospect of losing you–”

“Astarion.”

He pauses, feeling you shift in his arms. Without any word of protest, he releases you, settling onto his knees on the bed in front of you. You adjust yourself, then reach out to take his hands into your own. 

Astarion flinches. You pause, waiting for him to say something to you. He doesn’t, and so you take it as an okay to continue. Your fingers squeeze his own, the action directing his eyes to your own. 

You stay silent for a second or two, simply taking in the way that Astarion’s eyes soften at you. His usually sharp scarlet eyes are glazed over now with a new emotion – guilt. Guilt over not being there for you, guilt over not saving you sooner …

… guilt that you had gotten hurt. 

“Darling, if I had the chance to save you sooner, know that I would have taken it without a second of hesitation,” Astarion admits, shifting an inch closer to you. You feel the tears building along your waterline, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you attempt to suppress the sobs that begin to bubble up somewhere in your chest. 

One of his hands releases yours, hesitantly laying against your face. He thumbs away the tears in your eyes, sighing as you crumple and reach for him again. Astarion doesn’t waste a single second, wrapping you in his arms and resting his chin against the top of your head. 

“I thought that,” you hiccup, “you and the others had forgotten about me.”

His arms tighten around you at that declaration, chest promptly collapsing it on itself as he realizes just how scared you had been. He doesn’t want to imagine what you must have been thinking in that cell, likely thinking about if you would ever be saved.

If he would ever come for you.

“Never,” he whispers into your hair, fingers stroking comforting circles into the small of your back. “I would never forget you, ever.”

“You are the first thing in my entire life that makes me feel … feel something. Something other than burning hatred. You make this wretched world worth living in.”

You squeeze at him, hands bunching up his shirt from behind. He doesn’t bring attention to it, letting you cling to him with as much force as you need. 

“And I’m not going to let you go. Not now, not ever,” he promises you. You close your eyes, sighing shakily through your nose. He can feel your nod against his chest, his cheek leaning further into your hair. 

And that night, when the glistening moon hung over your tent and signaled to your companions that it was time to rest, Astarion remained at your side – fulfilling his promise.

He wasn’t going to let you feel that scared again. Not now, not ever.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Got you some sheets,” you say as you enter the front room.  

Bucky pulls on the foldout frame and it catches, like it always does. It offers little resistance as he wrenches on it and unfurls with a metallic whine. The legs stamp on the floor and he stands straight. 

“Sorry, not tryna break the place,” he narrows his eyes at the stubborn piece of furniture. 

“Like I said, everything around here is old.” 

“So I fit right in, got it,” his brows flick. 

“Not exactly what I meant,” you set the stacks of sheets, a quilt, and a pillow on the mattress. “Need help?” 

“Think I can figure it out. You don’t do cot inspections, do you?” He asks. 

You hesitate before you realise he’s joking. 

“You got until 1900 hours to get that made up,” you try to kid back then immediately make a face. “You know what, ignore that. I’m gonna have a decaf. Need anything?” 

His cheek dimples and he shakes his head, “got more than enough.” 

He turns and moves the linens. You retreat quickly. You can’t believe you’re such a weirdo. You could blame the fact that you rarely have company and those people who do stop by are backwoods seniors, but he’s even older than them. In spirit, at least. 

You load the drip filter with decaf grinds and sit at the table as you wait. Your eyes skim the faded wallpaper. You remember when you were a kid and you’d come to visit Grandma. You’d sit and count the flowers as she baked a pie. It was the one place where you weren’t afraid. 

“Mind if I grab some water?” Bucky’s voice slices through the veil of nostalgia and you flinch. You sit up and cross your arms. 

“In the fridge,” you sniff and stand as the kettle starts to boil.  

You pour over the filter and wait for it to brew. Bucky opens a cupboard and takes out a glass. He’s quiet as he fills it and puts the jug back in the fridge. You stand at the counter awkwardly. 

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter and flee before he can answer. 

The adrenaline of his arrival has worn away. Your social battery is dying and you’re receding back into your usual introverted troll. You go down to the linen closet and take out a peachy towel, hand towel, and wash cloth. 

You come back down to the front room. He’s not there. You leave the armful on the bed. It’s neatly made; straight edges, not a wrinkle. You return to the kitchen and sniff as you fidget. 

“I left some towels on your bed, in case you need to wash up,” you toy with the zipper of your collar. “Tomorrow we can hit the grocery store in case you need anything. Soap or... whatever.” 

“Packed it. Got used to living out of a bag,” he assures you. 

“Fair,” you agree. 

You blow out through your lips and return to the counter. The mug is full. You dump the filter and rinse the pour-over lid. You put it in the rack and pick up the cup. You stare into the dark brew as if you might just dive in and hope to drown. 

“Hey, look,” he says, “don’t worry about keeping me up or nothing. I don’t really sleep so...” 

“Yeah,” you swallow. “I... I do my work here. That’s my desk,” you point to the table. “I got headphone though.” 

“Right, I can stay out of the way,” he shows a palm. “Kinda my whole thing. In and out without being seen.” 

You look at him. He’s right but the context is not so funny. The thought of what he’s done makes you little leery. 

“I’ll let you enjoy your coffee. Could stand to stretch out after the ride up.” 

He takes his glass and heads for the door, tapping the frame with his fingers before he passes through. It’s a bit reassuring that he’s just as awkward. You guess it will be like that until you get used to each other. You really hope Sam doesn’t leave him up here long enough for you to be used to each other. 

You pick up the mug and quietly shuffle out. You keep your eyes down the hallway as you go to your room. You close yourself in, careful not to shut the door too heavily, and go to your bed. You put the cup on the night stand and sigh. 

Sam is going to get an earful, once your signal comes in. He really just dropped this grown man on you like you’re some sort of boarding house. As much as he did for you, this seems like a little much. Well, he’s never been very good at knowing the limit. 

You get up and change into a loose pair of pajama pants and a cozy sleep shirt. The nights get colder as the season passes. Fall won’t stave off the frost much longer. 

Maybe that will drive him away. This country isn’t exactly famous for its hospitable weather. The scenery might be nice and some of the people, but there’s not much else. Not unless you enjoy the wildlife. The crows, the squirrels, the chipmunks, wild hares, and groundhogs. Then there’s the more deadly ones; coyotes, bears, and moose.  

You really don’t think Sam thought any of this out. After all, who wants to be in Canada. Especially someone like Bucky. Someone who’s been all around the world, who lived in one of liveliest cities on the planet. This bodunk town in the north is going to bore him right back to his own country. 

[foxy-eva]

Dancing in the Moonlight

Summary: Spencer gets creative in order to cheer up Reader

Request: could you please write about how sunshine!reader ends up having a bad day and grumpy spencer spends all day to no avail trying to cheer up the sunshine!reader. The thing that finally works is a little bit silly? 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Comfort, Fluff

Content Warning: Reader has a bad day and is upset but it's not specified why, mentions crying

Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

Just like a sunbeam sneaking through black curtains you came into Spencer's life all those months ago. He would never forget the first time he felt the heat your presence radiated, warming even the darkest corner of his heart. After those long days of fighting evil, he craved nothing more than coming home to bask in your kindness. 

However, when he entered your apartment that night, Spencer immediately realized that something was different. Where he'd usually find excitement and joy, he only saw a fake smile on your face.

"What's wrong, my love?" 

Spencer found his place beside you on the couch, offering to pull you right into his arms. You hesitated, afraid that his touch might break loose the tears you so desperately tried to hold back. 

Instead of accepting his embrace, you just shook your head and answered, "I just had a bad day." 

Spencer knew that it must have been a truly terrible day for it to take away your smile. You were the most optimistic person he had ever met, always seeing the good in everything even when he couldn't. 

"I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do to make it better?" 

You just shrugged and leaned back on the couch, ready to simply wait until this day would be over. 

Spencer, however, decided to make it his mission to cheer you up. After giving it some thought, he realized that he had no idea how to do that, though. Usually your roles were reversed with you being the one to comfort him after a bad day. You were the one who – without fail – always managed to light up his life.

Now it was his turn to do the same for you. He just needed to figure out how. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He offered. 

You shook your head while sinking back further into the couch. Spencer reached out his hand to brush over your fingertips. His touch was soothing, so you opened your palm to take his hand in yours. He moved closer to you until his shoulder touched yours. 

When you locked eyes with him you managed to flash him a timid smile, not as genuine as usual but less fake than before. 

"Hey," Spencer whispered.

"Hi," you breathed. 

His lips found yours in a brief and innocent kiss. It wasn't enough to make up for what happened today but you appreciated his attempt to light up your inner spark again. 

Spencer quickly noticed that his nearness alone wouldn't be enough to cheer you up. 

"Are you hungry?" He asked. "I could make you something to eat."

"I already had dinner earlier," you declined his offer. 

He got up from the couch to turn on the TV and put on your favorite show before disappearing in the kitchen for a few minutes. When he came back he handed you a mug with freshly brewed tea. 

"Thank you," you said while taking the beverage. "I really appreciate it."

It was true, you did appreciate his attempts to make your day better. It didn't work though. As he sat with you to watch the show while occasionally checking your facial features, he realized that, too. 

"You're still upset," he stated with a frown present on his face. 

"Sorry, I–"

"Don't apologize," he interrupted you. "It's not your fault. I just hate that I have no idea how to help you. You're always there for me and know exactly what to do or say and here I am… so…lost." 

"It's okay, Spencer. I'm sure it'll just pass. Tomorrow is a new day."

"No, don't you try to cheer me up!" He protested. "This is about you. I really want to make you feel better." 

You turned your head to look out the window. The sun had already set, all you could find was darkness on the other side of the glass. It almost felt like a metaphor for that day, as if all you could do was to wait for the next morning to let the rising sun warm your heart again. 

Spencer couldn't accept that, though, so he suggested, "We could go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air will help you clear your head."

It was worth a try. Chilly air met puffy cheeks when you stepped outside, Spencer’s hand immediately reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Walking side by side, you followed his lead, unable to make a decision as to where to go yourself. Soon you stepped into a park together, noticing how a mild breeze created a rustling sound as it met leafy trees.

Tilting your head, your eyes wandered over the night sky. The moon was bright and big, almost looking unreal from your point of view. Although it was only borrowing its light from the sun, it still did its bet to illuminate your path. 

Very sudden and without a warning Spencer stopped his motions to step in front of you. He softly smiled at you when he said, "Dance with me."

Those were words you never thought you'd hear from him, so you asked in disbelief, "What?" 

He gently got ahold of your wrists to move them to his shoulders before he grabbed your waist. 

"Dance with me," he repeated. 

And so you did. 

At first you just swayed from side to side, not unlike all those kitschy prom scenes in teen movies. There was no music playing but that was alright, the sound of the wind was your beat while some sleepless bird sang the harmony. When Spencer made the first step, you simply followed his motions. 

It was clumsy and graceless but he didn't give up, not even when he almost fell over his own feet. The smile slowly forming on your face spurred him on to keep going despite his lack of skill. There was no holding back the laughter spilling from your lips each time your chests almost collided because you missed a step. 

However, after a few moments your body moved naturally with his, almost as if you had done that a million times before. Your smile grew bigger with each spin, making you slowly forget the sorrows of the day. And although the sunrise was still many hours away, just like that your inner light began shining again.  

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @snapeknot @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark on Me, Part 14

Summary: Steve should have paid attention

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, teasing, unprotected sex, PIV sex, hard sex, mirrors, creampie, threats, I'm sorry for the pain I have caused, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Steve gives you a warm smile, watching you as you bashfully eat your food. His eyes follow every movement your hand makes before you drop your fork and try to give him an angry look, “Doesn’t look right on you, Dovey.”

“Stop watching me. You eat,” it’s unnerving how he watches you. Like he needs to memorize everything about your movements. Every moan that whispers off your lips as you eat, every happy dance you do, and even the way your eyebrows reflect how your feeling with each bite. He is obsessed with your very being.

“I already have,” he lowers his eyes, motioning towards your fork before you slowly put another bite in your mouth. Dragging out the utensil at a snail speed. Sucking on the metal hard before it pops out of your mouth, “It would be better for you and that soaking wet cunt between your legs if you didn’t do that. That’s your only warning.”

Oh, you love a warning and what happens when you don’t listen, “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you tease. Hoping that it amps him up even more.

“Ha,” his voice bellows up into the cabin and you drop your fork. Crossing your arms over your chest as you glare at him. You weren’t the same girl he met a year ago. You were a woman that could fully take and survive Steve Rogers. “Aren’t you just the prettiest little bratty slut. You really want to see exactly how I can punish you for your behavior?”

“I’ve been spanked before,” you remind him with an edge of defiance. Shimmying your shoulders a bit as you start to smirk at him. You have been able to take everything he’s shoved your way. “I wear my badge of Steve’s Dove proudly. Been marked and forbidden for anyone to touch. Would you have claimed me if I couldn’t put up with your menacing ways?”

“I’m a menace now, am I? Tell me, Dovey, who am I a menace for?”

“You’re a menace Steve Rogers, but not to me. All I see is a fool completely in love with me. And my pussy,” you emphasize ‘my’ before you launch out of your seat, and start to run through the cabin. “So in love with me that you will chase your girlfriend around this cabin laughing.”

Steve would never say the words, but he won’t stop you from feeling his emotions. You did make him a fool for you. He would never have been caught chasing you around with the brightest smile on his face. He didn’t even want to catch up to you just yet. He hadn’t felt this way in years. Like everything was just right in the world. In his world. And all he wants is to laugh and have fun with you.

“Oh, Stevie boy,” you smile, spinning around to look at him before you pull apart his button up. Giving your shoulders a shake so he can see your tits bouncing around, and he stops just to gaze upon you. “Not tempted?”

He shakes his head no, but he can’t ignore the shuffle he does with his pants. He is such a horn dog! “What about now?” Cocking up one of your eyebrows you cup your breasts. Keeping your eyes on his, as you start to pinch and tweak your nipples, “Now?”

“Not quite,” liar. You start to undo every button slowly before letting it fall into the floor, and he hisses through his teeth. His eyes drape over every inch of your skin. His gray sweatpants start to tent, and he still wants you to believe he’s not turned on.

“Really? You want to keep chasing me through the house?”

“I’d rather see you try and crack me. That’s what you’re poorly attempting to do, hmm?” He can try to deny it, but even the way Steve speaks is different. Gone was the harsh language. He still had a filthy mouth when he was inside of you, but now he is creating a different Steve. One just for you.

He glances hungrily over your naked body before walking over to the couch. Sitting down smoothly, and even acknowledges his aching cock by rubbing over his swollen pants. Smirking at you while you want to gawk. “You’re craving me, huh, Dovey? You want that sloppy cunt to be hugging this?” Those meaty fingers grip over his covered girth, and you let out a sound that is more animalistic than human.

“Make me lose control. Make me want to show you my cock that is yours for the taking. What is my little cock slut going to do?” You take a step towards him. Trying to be sexy as you saunter closer, but he holds up a finger, “Eh eh eh. Earn your seat on this throne.”

“How?” There’s only a flicker of a moment of Steve going soft. But that twinkle of an eye is gone and replaced with an evil sneer. “Captain?”

“Use your imagination. What do you think I want more of in the world,” how are you supposed to think when your pussy is throbbing. A low hum sounds through your brain and pulses through your entire body. There is only one thing on your mind, and that is you want him to fuck you. You don’t want anything sweet. You want to be destroyed. Since he’s going to be out all day. You wanted to feel him when he left.

Taking a deep breath, you softly close your eyes. Trying to recall a moment that you were the most vulnerable to Steve? When did he feel his own need to destroy you? To own you?

Like a movie playing in your mind, you open your eyes with a grin. If you were going to be destroyed, so was he. You take a deep breath and pretend the trauma that night didn’t happen. Thinking back to when that night was sexy. To the moments of Steve struggling to look at you or your reflection. He couldn’t even figure out what the best view for him was.

Nakedly walking over to the wall, you look at him through that mirror. Biting on your lip as you lean forward. Spreading your legs and sticking out your ass, so he gets a glimpse of your weeping cunt. Feeling more empowered as he adjusts himself. His chest rumbles out a low growl, and you grab both sides of the mirror.

Leaning over it low and slow as you lay it on the floor, and you look at him over your shoulder before straddling the mirror. Shimmying your hips from side to side, and his eyes move to the reflection to stare at your spread pussy. “Do you remember, Captain? You made me watch you fuck me with your gun? Had me coming all over it while I stared at my body taking every bit of what you were giving me?”

“Dove,” he warns as you start to kneel down. Getting down on all fours before you lean forward, and his Adam’s apple bobs with just how uncomfortably hard he is. His cock out of his pants, and he fists it slowly. Beads of precum leak onto the crown of his cock and you whimper. You can already feel him pushing into you.

You are ready to drool with the way he strokes his cock. Knuckles so tense trying to replicate the feeling of your tight walls. Wagging your ass before your hand goes in between your legs, and you gently run your hand through your velvety folds. Your moans match Steve’s, and you dip even lower, using your fingers to spread yourself out, and Steve’s grip gets even tighter.

“I know what would feel better, Captain,” you coo, moving your fingers to push into your warmth. Mewling as you watch him fight the pleasure that is right here. The stairway to heaven is steps away from him, and he was denying himself the greatest high he could ever imagine. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“And what’s that?” His eyes are black pools of lust. Mouth hanging open as he watches you fuck yourself. Pulling out your fingers you spread them apart, and he gulps as strings of your arousal stick to the appendages, creating a beautiful webbing of your honey. “You’re soaked.”

“Soaked and ready to be fucked. Filled up with your cum. And I get to watch all of it. Watch how my body morphs to accommodate that big fat cock of yours. Have you ever had a pussy as tight as mine?” He shakes his head no, and you adjust yourself to have your front flat on the mirror. Face on the cold glass as you look back at him. Wiggling your ass and watch him sweat.

“It’s all yours, Captain. Whatever you want. And you know you want it. Want to fuck me so deep and hard that I feel you in my throat. Feel you for the rest of the day, and feel empty because you're not inside of me. Like what you see?”

He stands up, and lets his sweatpants drop down to the floor. His cock is angry and red as he walks over to you. Sinking to his knees, but still he stares at your needy cunt. Inspecting your hole before he spits down on your puckered hole. His warm saliva drifts down your seam before it, and possibly your slick, puddles on the mirror below you. Thick, wet, and sticky. Just the way Steve loved it.

You whine. Pushing your ass into him. Desperate and needing his touch like you need the air to survive. Rocking your body into him with so much desire that you could almost come undone like this. “Please, fuck me. Own me. Destroy me. Kill any desire for another man’s touch.”

“There will be no other man,” he grunts, railing his veiny cock into you so hard, and so deep you see stars. Nails scratching on the carpet as he impales you. Giving you no time to adjust, just raw and dirty fucking, and you go outside of your mind. The pleasured pain surges all the way to the tips of your hair.

Unadulterated euphoria that you have never felt before. This is fucking. A careless need to get off like the animals you were underneath all that humanity. Pulling out the most salacious sounds out of your mouth, and you’re a mess. He is implanting himself into the blood that courses through your veins with every hard thrust into you. Exploring parts of your body that you are sure he has never discovered.

His fingers dig into your hips with such force, but all you feel is fulfilled. He could use you. He could have you. Every last bit of you, and you would still beg for more. Searing himself into your body more than the tattoo could ever do. Choking out your sounds of ecstasy, and he goes harder. Deeper.

His eyes go between where the two of you connect and the reflection. Watching himself burrow into your body like some predator. Leaving behind a trail where his cock is rooted in your body. The vulgarity of seeing your body take him fully like that makes his balls tighten up against his body, and he spanks your ass to help him focus on going harder. Faster.

Crying out into the cabin because your belly tenses up. Heat centers into your core as your juices start spewing out onto the mirror. Filled up with Steve so much that there’s no room for anything else. Nothing but wet skin on wet skin. “You're perfect, Dovey. Perfect for me. My greedy little slut takes me like no other woman. Every inch of my cock is inside you, and every bit of my soul is owned by you.”

You clench your eyes shut as the pleasure becomes too much. Your body goes limp and pliant for him as he spears into you so hard you lose all control. His hands are the only thing keeping you upright. “You’re mine.”

“Mine.”

“And I’m yours,” one more hard and particularly deep thrusts hits you so deep that you travel to another plane of existence. A plane where Steve’s body is bare of all his markings and scars. A place where he is whole again. Your body is able to purify him. Cleansing him of all the turmoil that made him who he was. And you get the innocent man that you deserve.

The love you’ve craved to hear from him, you see it in these moments. He was different with you and for you. Nothing has ever been more clear in this plane than the fact that Steve was irrevocably in love with your bratty ass. It was going to be a hard life, but life would never be worth living without him in your life.

His hands go rigid on your hips as he blows his load deep into your belly. His hold softens as he lowers your body flat to the mirror. Letting his softening cock fall out of you, and you whine at the loss, “Shh,” he starts to pick you up, but you lift your ass up into the air. Getting back on your knees.

His eyes drift to your gaping hole, and he watches his cream dribble out of your body before drops land on the mirror, mixing with your juices below our body, “You’ve ruined me, Dove.”

“Good. We’re equal now.”

“We are,” he agrees, continuing to watch himself leave your body drop by drop. A masterpiece if he had ever seen one. “And I love it.”

“You asshole,” you snort. You didn’t even care to try and get him to say those three words anymore. You were content with him giving parts of himself that he had never given anyone else.

“I was going to say you were my best friend, though. Does that help?” It does. Steve didn’t trust easily, didn’t throw around words like best friend lightly. He meant it. And that means more to you than eight letters.

“It does. Now put me to bed, best friend.”

You are equals.

Steve walks into the club a little taller. Shoulders back as he struts in front of his people. Giving a few nods to them before he makes his way into his office. He has no intention of spending an entire day here. He left you satiated and sleepy, and he would love to get back to you.

He wants to spend less time here, and has even continued to think about what Bucky said. He is getting older, and things were getting more dangerous with Rumlow, and whatever Peggy was cooking up. Her time would come soon enough. You don’t double cross Steve Rogers and get away with it.

He is beginning to think about a future that doesn't include this business. Ways to spend the large quantities of money he had made with illegal bullshit. And none of them were without you. Houses in different locations, preferably at the beach so he can watch you walk around in next to nothing all the time. Maybe catch a glimpse of you dripping of ocean water and laying in the sun.

That is what life is about and seeing Bucky content with his choices had opened up Steve’s eyes a bit more. He’d give this one more year. The longer in the game you had the riskier things became. The more power you owned the more people wanted to steal it away from you. And now they had the perfect tool to hold over Steve’s head for ransom. You.

It became too clear to him that you were his everything. This life didn’t matter. The money didn’ mean a damn thing if he didn’t have you to spend it on. And a family. It looked good on Bucky. He’d never seen Bucky happier, and the desire he had to not just fully claim you and connect you to him forever with a legacy that was both of you hit him directly in the heart he thought had been nothing but ashes. And yet he is feeling things he thought were a fairytale.

You awoke something in him he thought he had lost years ago. Humanity. Passion. Fear. Need. A reason to not just survive but to live. All in this perfect human that he didn’t want to miss a single second with. And there is nothing that he wouldn’t do to keep you alive. Alive and living your life to its fullest potential. He needs that for you more than he needs it for him. His life and soul was burned years ago, but you were the beauty in his dark world.

A world that didn’t deserve your light, or the power you could wield with that light. You are remarkable. And you are his.

His head tilts towards his door as Sam walks in. His brows furrowed and they sit low on his face, “I need you to sit down,” Steve starts to respond, arguing about being told what to do, but in Sam’s calming and deep timbre, he tells him again, “Sit down. You need to see this, it’s about Dove.”

Without hesitation he moves to his chair that Sam points to, and he’s met with a computer screen of his home. He looks up at Sam curiously before the other man pushes play for Steve. The video is a bit distorted, but it was taken this morning. Watching your beautiful body walk into frame, and the teasing show you put on for Steve.

A part of Steve wants to smile at how amazing it is to relive this moment until he realizes this isn’t the location of his security cameras, “What. The fuck. Is this?” His fist pounds on the desk, viewing one of the most intimate moments he has ever had with you. How you made yourself completely vulnerable to him. Trying to erase the night that he branded you as his own in the most humiliating way. You retrieved that moment back this morning, and someone saw it.

“Skip to the end,” Sam answers flatly.

Steve reaches towards his keyboard, and skips towards the end where there’s a camera change. This one in your bedroom as he carries you into the bed. Laying you down and kisses all over your worn body. A moment so pure and perfect and it was stolen from him. Kissing over your heated skin until you completely fall asleep, and it pans over to the floor, and some stupid envelope. Staying on something so unimportant that it highlights the words that he utters, and Steve stands up just as the screen goes black.

A mechanical voice vibrates deep into Steve’s core and he seethes. This moment wasn’t for anyone. Not even for you and it was stolen out from under him. A threat. A fucking threat that makes him see red, and ready to light the world on fire, “You’ve been warned.”

With an angry growl, Steve grabs his computer off the desk and hurls it into the floor. Turning to stomp out of his office and back where he came from. “Steve?”

“How the fuck did you get this?”

“It was emailed to us.”

”You saw and heard fucking nothing. I will destroy whatever asshole did this. And I will start with Lark! But I need to know what my goddamn warning was. FUCK! That night Lark was there, did anybody come into the house?”

Sam stares at him a moment. He knows he should have told Steve sooner, and this wasn’t going to go well. “The footage was tampered with,” Steve bellows out a scream that is feral. His face becomes beet red and all he wants is you. “There’s about three minutes missing from the feed.”

“Shut it down.”

“Steve?”

“No one goes in or out of here until I get to Dove. All phones confiscated. I want Natasha to get eyes on Rumlow immediately. You didn’t see or hear anything!” Emphasizing the last word before storming off.

No road laws are followed as he races to get back to the cabin. His phone propped up with a clear view of you dancing around in your little shorts. He should be coming home to you with a smile, and instead it's anger and anxiety. To see you move about with so much joy pains him to know someone had put you at risk. You’re not going to understand. You couldn’t. Not with what was captured, and he wouldn’t explain it.

Slamming his car into park he stomps up the steps, and you run to greet him, “Hey, Captain,” you give him the brightest smile. Happy because you had already missed him. This morning was perfect, but then you see his face, and you frown. “Steve?”

He doesn’t say a word as his long strides carry him to the bedroom with a few steps. Walking right over to the envelope before he picks it up to rip open. Teeth clenching harder with every line before he crumples it and the contents up, and stares out into space. So many things run through his mind, and a part of him dies. The part he was finally getting back completely burns up, and the ashes start to blow away with the wind.

“Steve, what’s going on?” The sound of your voice hits deep into his soul. He had made a private vow to never see you hurt. And you sound hurt. And it would only get worse. Already hating himself, but one look at you, and the thought of anything happening to you is worse than death. He would rather feel the pain of torture than this. The thing worse than death is to ever see anything happen to you.

“Steve?”

“We need to pack your bags. We’ve gotta go,” his voice is lifeless as you switch the weight of your feet. Something was wrong. Off. It feels bad. He says your real name, and your lip starts to tremble. “Either you pack you some bags, or I will.”

“Are you packing a bag, too?” He wasn’t. But if it is what it takes for you to not crumble right now, it’s what he would do. You see the tenseness in his body, and want to scream at him. “Steve?”

He gulps, standing up to walk towards you. Cupping your cheek, he presses a sweet kiss to your lips, but it’s like he’s seeing right past you. “If you’re going to kiss me make it mean something,” Steve’s hands move to your ass, and he picks you up. Making you wrap your legs around him as he holds you so tight. Deepening the kiss, and you melt into his skin. Holding onto him like you are going to lose him.

Feeling every bit of the love he has for you through this one kiss alone. A kiss that reminds you that he is a man that acts instead of says. And what he says is often a lie. His words never match his actions. He pulls away and sets you on the ground before walking towards the closet. “It’s not safe for you here. Do you want to help me pack your things or not?”

Sighing you decide its best to help him. Even if he thinks he knows what’s best.

Sitting on the hotel bed you curiously watch Steve on the balcony. He spent more time avoiding your eyesight and smoking a joint than he did with you. Today should have been a good day. It started off magical, and ended in — this. Confused wasn’t even the word you would use. Hurt? Maybe.

It’s like playing a game of tug-o-war and you know you’re about to lose. All this pushing and pulling you and Steve have been doing this past year made you feel like you were winning, but now it’s like he is ripping the rope right out of your grasp. Something was off and you didn’t like it. The feeling just festers inside your gut and you want to lash out at him.

He hadn’t kissed you again. Hadn’t so much as been sweet to you. It was mostly this; his back pointed towards you. He was avoiding something. And that something is you or something to do with you, and you hate it. You try and take deep breaths as you glare at his beautiful broad back. You had three bags of things, he had a small duffle bag. He was not staying as long as you, and he was lying.

“Steve Rogers, you’re a goddamn coward,” he takes a long drag of his roach, and still doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t acknowledge you said anything. “You could at least tell me the truth since I walk around with your fucking mark on my fucking neck,” sure add in some colorful words and make him want to punish you.

“You’re the biggest coward I have ever met, and you still won’t look at me,” you watch, ready to take the punishment as long as he looks at you. “Look. At. Me,” your words are harsh and spit through your teeth. You need him to feel the panic that is settling in your body. Putting out his joint, he slowly turns to look you in the face and his eyes are haunted. “Look at me!”

“I am.”

“No, look at me! See me. See all of me,” you scream, pulling off your clothes. “I need you to fucking see me, and you tell me what the fuck is going on!” he twists his neck again, and a sickening pop runs down his spine. “What the fuck are you going to do about my fucking attitude and using this fucking language, huh? Fuck you, Steve Rogers. Fuck you,” adding emphasis you throw up your middle fingers, and he sprints towards you.

Picking you up and he throws your now naked onto the bed. His thick body goes in between your legs, spreading you out and with one hand he messes around with his jeans. Struggling to get them undone, so you reach up and help him. “You see how wet my fucking pussy is from pissing you the fuck off?”

“You better shut your fucking mouth, Dove,” finally. It is violent and intense, but he said the nickname you have grown to adore. Ripping off his shirt, he spits down to your hole. Steve’s hand grips onto his member before he runs it through your slick. “You’re such a fucking slut,” he grits out, soaking his cock in your wet heat.

“Then you better fucking do something about it,” he growls low. Gripping each side of your cheeks with his thumb and fingers before he slams into you. Taking your breath away and rolling your eyes into the back of your head. You pissed him off. Good. “Fuck you! Fuck you, Steve!”

There’s no care in the way he pistons into you. Fucking you like you were some random whore that he was using to get off. Cheapening whatever this bond is between the two of you. Something is off. “Fuck you,” your voice loses the edge to it. It hurts, and not in a physical way. He’s tugging harder and harder at that rope, attempting to take it away completely.

“Fuck you,” your voice now a whisper as he fucks you harder. Still not meeting your eyes. Clenching his eyes close, and it kills you. “Fuck you. I hate you.”

“Good,” you let out a strangled sob with that one word. Giving up as he rips on that rope harder. You are losing your fight, and he was removing every bit of the rope from your hands, “But I’ll make you this promise, Dove. I promise that you will feel me etched in every part of your skin. That when you fuck another man that you still feel my cock buried deep in your body. So deep you can’t escape it. Every time some man looks at you, you remember the way I made you so weak. You’ll hate the ground that those men walk on because they’ll never be me. You’ll crave my touch and the way that I stretch you out.”

The rope is pulled completely out of your hands, and you lie below him, limp and in so much emotional pain you’re numb. His motions, and his words still don’t stop. They cut so deep that tears pour down your face. “You’ll never escape. And no man will ever make you feel the way that I do. I have left my mark on you so deep that you’re forever changed. You’re not longer that girl that I made my slut.”

“I hate you,” uttered words that mean nothing to him. Hate is just as strong as love, and you despise that you feel for him so deeply during whatever the fuck this is. You want to feel nothing for Steve Rogers, and still you feel everything.

“And you, sweet Dovey, have left your mark on me, too,” he pulls himself out of you, and you let out a strangled no as he spurts his cum on your stomach. The last fragment of the rope gone from your finger tips as he comes on your stomach just like a slut, “Don’t call me. Don’t look for me. Don’t reach out to me.”

“I’m just your whore now?”

“You’re nothing. You mean nothing. There’s money for you in one of your bags, I’ve paid for your troubles. Create a new life and forget this,” still he can’t meet your eyes as he removes that rope, and out of your hand and grasp. There’s no emotion in his words. They’re so monotone, and you hate him. But you want to erase every bit of him instead. Nothing could ever hurt as worse as being made to be a paid for slut to Steve Rogers.

“You’re goddamn liar. Spoken like a true fork tongued lying bastard!”

You let out the fiercest scream you can muster, staring right at him, but he robotically dresses himself, throwing a towel over you, “Clean yourself up,” he whispers before he walks out the door and out of your life.

A coward if you have ever seen one.

And you were a goddamn fool.

Next

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[mtheonott]

Poetry with Theodore Nott

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

The party wasn't boring. No, it was funny. It was especially fun to watch another quarrel between Parkinson and some cute Ravenclaw girl. Someone has already started betting. Maybe you would have bet too, but not today. The mood was too good and too bad at the same time. Everything has been going wrong since the morning: you were late for breakfast, lost your potions textbook, quarreled with a project partner, broke your headphones, and a lot of shit. But the end of the day added a joyful note to these unpleasant cases. The circulation of the magazine in which your poems were printed has sold out! In such a short time... it's amazing.

You wearily sat down on the sofa in the center of the Gryffindor living room, soft, unlike yours, and pressed your knees to your chest. The gaze was fixated on the commotion next to you, until the moment you felt that someone was sitting next to you. It was that handsome boy. He often appeared with his company in your room. More precisely, he appeared at your roommate's. It seems like the guy wasn't a fan of romantic relationships, so you forgot about him. Although... sometimes this Slytherin boy appeared in front of your eyes when inspiration was born in your heart. His wonderful voice, beautiful hands and adorable eyes in which you could see warmth. The same warmth was reflected in them today. You wanted to look at him for the rest of the evening. He leaned against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. You let go of your knees a little and waved at him, "Hi, Theo."

The guy wearily opened his eyes, looked at you and frowned, "You..." he stood up a little and turned his whole body to you "... that girl-poet. I've seen your work." Oh my god. What? Has he read your work? You widened your eyes in surprise and your ears turned slightly red. "My... work? Which ones exactly? Where? When?" The guy grinned and looked thoughtfully away. Your heart was picking up speed by the second. Finally, he looked at you and snapped his fingers, saying, "Something with apples. I didn't remember the name. Bought a magazine recently, I like to read the works of new writers."

Your heart skipped a beat. Damn. The work that contains all your thoughts about him. You smiled nervously and nodded, looking down at your fingers, "What do you think bout… my poem?" Nott smiled warmly, "It's beautiful. Although I'm not a fan of this, but I liked it." An embarrassed smile lit up your face and you raised your head to look at him, "Thank you. I am very pleased."

The guy shrugged his shoulders and said more quietly, "I especially liked the lines about the dark-haired guy with deep eyes who captured your heart. It's amazing that there are still initials there..." Your hands abruptly rose and covered his mouth so that he would not continue, "Stop. I'll explain everything." The fright was reflected well in your eyes, and your heart was beating wildly, "It's... not you. Another T.N. Honestly." Theodore giggled and gently removed your hands from his face, but did not let go of them. He tilted his head to the side and muttered, "Well, that's what I figured. There are a lot of guys T.N. at Hogwarts. Okay... now let's be more serious," The smile slipped from his face and the guy looked at you seriously, "Are you talking about me?"

Your hands trembled, and your eyes ran over his face. There is no way out. Thoughts too. As your mother used to say, it's either now or never. “Yeah. About you." you said and squeezed his hands. The guy is staring at your face. It would have been nice to hear him breathing, but the sounds of the quarrel drowned out everything that was outside the party. Your lips tightened in fear and you lowered your eyes again.

"You know..." Nott said, and you looked up sharply, "...we can try anything. At least go on a date"

You looked at him in surprise and muttered, "Seriously?" He nodded and ran his fingers over your hand. You smiled and shrugged, "I... um... would be glad."

Theo took your hand and stood up, "Then... can we have a first date in my room? Let's discuss what we like to listen to, read and do all sorts of things that couples do at such meetings..." You nodded and walked with him towards the Slytherin living room, talking about your poems.

And poor Parkinson was still arguing with the pretty Ravenclaw girl.

[kvetchlandia]

Todd Webb Poet/Playwright Bertolt Brecht , New Jersey 1946

I

Wirklich, ich lebe in finsteren Zeiten! Das arglose Wort ist töricht. Eine glatte Stirn Deutet auf Unempfindlichkeit hin. Der Lachende Hat die furchtbare Nachricht Nur noch nicht empfangen.

Was sind das für Zeiten, wo Ein Gespräch über Bäume fast ein Verbrechen ist Weil es ein Schweigen über so viele Untaten einschließt! Der dort ruhig über die Straße geht Ist wohl nicht mehr erreichbar für seine Freunde Die in Not sind?

Es ist wahr: Ich verdiene nur noch meinen Unterhalt Aber glaubt mir: das ist nur ein Zufall. Nichts Von dem, was ich tue, berechtigt mich dazu, mich sattzuessen. Zufällig bin ich verschont. (Wenn mein Glück aussetzt, bin ich verloren.)

Man sagt mir: Iß und trink du! Sei froh, daß du hast! Aber wie kann ich essen und trinken, wenn Ich dem Hungernden entreiße, was ich esse, und Mein Glas Wasser einem Verdursteten fehlt? Und doch esse und trinke ich.

Ich wäre gerne auch weise. In den alten Büchern steht, was weise ist: Sich aus dem Streit der Welt halten und die kurze Zeit Ohne Furcht verbringen Auch ohne Gewalt auskommen Böses mit Gutem vergelten Seine Wünsche nicht erfüllen, sondern vergessen Gilt für weise. Alles das kann ich nicht: Wirklich, ich lebe in finsteren Zeiten!

II

In die Städte kam ich zur Zeit der Unordnung Als da Hunger herrschte. Unter die Menschen kam ich zu der Zeit des Aufruhrs Und ich empörte mich mit ihnen. So verging meine Zeit Die auf Erden mir gegeben war.

Mein Essen aß ich zwischen den Schlachten Schlafen legte ich mich unter die Mörder Der Liebe pflegte ich achtlos Und die Natur sah ich ohne Geduld. So verging meine Zeit Die auf Erden mir gegeben war.

Die Straßen führten in den Sumpf zu meiner Zeit. Die Sprache verriet mich dem Schlächter. Ich vermochte nur wenig. Aber die Herrschenden Saßen ohne mich sicherer, das hoffte ich. So verging meine Zeit Die auf Erden mir gegeben war.

Die Kräfte waren gering. Das Ziel Lag in großer Ferne Es war deutlich sichtbar, wenn auch für mich Kaum zu erreichen. So verging meine Zeit Die auf Erden mir gegeben war.

III

Ihr, die ihr auftauchen werdet aus der Flut In der wir untergegangen sind Gedenkt Wenn ihr von unseren Schwächen sprecht Auch der finsteren Zeit Der ihr entronnen seid.

Gingen wir doch, öfter als die Schuhe die Länder wechselnd Durch die Kriege der Klassen, verzweifelt Wenn da nur Unrecht war und keine Empörung.

Dabei wissen wir doch: Auch der Hass gegen die Niedrigkeit Verzerrt die Züge. Auch der Zorn über das Unrecht Macht die Stimme heiser. Ach, wir Die wir den Boden bereiten wollten für Freundlichkeit Konnten selber nicht freundlich sein.

Ihr aber, wenn es soweit sein wird Dass der Mensch dem Menschen ein Helfer ist Gedenkt unsrer Mit Nachsicht.

--

I

Truly, I live in dark times! An artless word is foolish. A smooth forehead Points to insensitivity. He who laughs Has not yet received The terrible news.

What times are these, in which A conversation about trees is almost a crime For in doing so we maintain our silence about so much wrongdoing! And he who walks quietly across the street, Passes out of the reach of his friends Who are in danger?

It is true: I work for a living But, believe me, that is a coincidence. Nothing That I do gives me the right to eat my fill. By chance I have been spared. (If my luck does not hold, I am lost.)

They tell me: eat and drink. Be glad to be among the haves! But how can I eat and drink When I take what I eat from the starving And those who thirst do not have my glass of water? And yet I eat and drink.

I would happily be wise. The old books teach us what wisdom is: To retreat from the strife of the world To live out the brief time that is your lot Without fear To make your way without violence To repay evil with good — The wise do not seek to satisfy their desires, But to forget them. But I cannot heed this: Truly I live in dark times!

II

I came into the cities in a time of disorder As hunger reigned. I came among men in a time of turmoil And I rose up with them. And so passed The time given to me on earth.

I ate my food between slaughters. I laid down to sleep among murderers. I tended to love with abandon. I looked upon nature with impatience. And so passed The time given to me on earth.

In my time streets led into a swamp. My language betrayed me to the slaughterer. There was little I could do. But without me The rulers sat more securely, or so I hoped. And so passed The time given to me on earth.

The powers were so limited. The goal Lay far in the distance It could clearly be seen although even I Could hardly hope to reach it. And so passed The time given to me on earth.

III

You, who shall resurface following the flood In which we have perished, Contemplate — When you speak of our weaknesses, Also the dark time That you have escaped.

For we went forth, changing our country more frequently than our shoes Through the class warfare, despairing That there was only injustice and no outrage.

And yet we knew: Even the hatred of squalor Distorts one’s features. Even anger against injustice Makes the voice grow hoarse. We Who wished to lay the foundation for gentleness Could not ourselves be gentle.

But you, when at last the time comes That man can aid his fellow man, Should think upon us With leniency.

—Bertolt Brecht, "An die Nachgeborenen" (To Those Who Come After), translated by Scott Horton, first published in Brecht's political exile in Svendborg, Denmark, in the Svendborger Gedichte (Svendborg Poems), 1939

[linnamonrolls0]

The Winner Takes It All

LMM!Hermes x Reader

Summary:

“devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more…”

You accidentally find your way into the Lotus Casino, where a certain Greek god takes a keen interest in a game of poker, a sweet deal, and… you.

Rating: Mature

Words: 4,480

A/N:

I wasn’t gonna write this… until I saw some hater saying they’d [redacted] if they saw a LMM!Hermes x Reader fic show up - so naturally, being the disastrous Lin simp that I am, I HAD TO DO IT. After all, learning from the best in proving the naysayers wrong…

A lot of this was written pre-episode, allow it with a few inconsistencies and a lot of research-induced additions!

Mixtape... bloop - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6v2ZfRamJRh8eP6qOqz4ND

Chapter 1: When The Chips Are Down

Contrary to popular belief, apparently it is possible to get lost in Las Vegas.

You were only strolling the Strip with a group of friends on the last day of your whirlwind vacation, but soon enough you found yourself at a dead end, unsure of what turn you’d even taken to get there. 

Hoping to locate a restroom and some means of connectivity to contact your friends, you beelined for the nearest building, flashily labelled the Lotus Hotel and Casino: upon glancing upward, you were met with the sight of a forty-storey tower, with a wide open entrance marked by a blooming neon-bright lotus flower in front of you. It was the sort of place you would expect to be buzzing with life, but oddly enough nary a soul lingered by the shining silver doors; just stillness and silence, save for the muffled music pounding from somewhere inside.

Though you felt overwhelmingly uneasy, that entrance carried a strange magnetism that compelled you to step inside. Something that suggested all your fear would be put to rest the moment you walked through those doors… or into that flower, at least.

You tucked your hands under your sleeves and drew in a deep breath, before you crossed the petalled threshold into an opulent lobby decorated with lotus plants in intricately designed pots and inviting plush couches around the circular hall. The air conditioning was a welcome relief from the Nevada summer heat, and the whole place seemed to glow in a dark shade of pink. 

You immediately felt an invisible weight ease off of your shoulders as you entered… What had you come here to look for, again?

Right, a phone charger and somewhere to pee. Of course, basic human necessities, how could you forget those so quickly?

Interrupting your line of thought, you paused in your tracks when a tall Barbie doll materialised in front of you, dressed in bright pink from head to toe; upon first glance she looked like some sort of projection, as though she wasn’t real at all.

“Welcome to the Lotus Hotel and Casino,” she greeted you in an almost robotic voice, with a plastic smile stretched across her face, holding out a shimmering green card. “Here’s your Cash Card, have a great time!”

“Cash… what? Do I have to pay for this?” you stuttered, confused beyond belief as you took the card. What was this place?

“No, not a penny!” She shook her head; not a single strand of her perfectly coiffed blonde hair shifted out of place. “Would you like a tour? Here, have a drink. Only the best in the world here!” 

She offered you a glass goblet, filled to the brim with a dark maroon liquid and topped with blueberries, bearing the same eerie magnetism as the doors had done minutes before. You eyed the drink dubiously, brows furrowed as you sniffed it in a futile attempt to ascertain what exactly it was.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you politely declined, “What is—”

But before you could finish your question, the Barbie doll had disappeared as suddenly as she’d arrived, and the moment you sipped the strong floral drink, your questions completely evaporated.

Following your curiosity, you craned your neck and looked up to see endless floors lined with rooms and doors and glass balconies, with a pair of glass elevators in the middle. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if the great glass elevator could shoot through the ceiling like something out of a children’s book.

At least there were more people in here, though you were certain they too had just appeared as if by magic; not acknowledging you at all, they milled about in the lobby and outside the doors to the casino, beside to what appeared to be an arcade full of excited children playing classic and modern video games alike. Regardless of age, all the guests were clad in fancy-dress costumes; you figured perhaps there was an event taking place that had its attendees reflecting different eras of fashion. Wouldn’t be unusual for this town, everyone was dressed crazy and after three days traversing Sin City’s myriad clubs and casinos, nothing fazed you - or perhaps the effects of whatever you’d taken at that club last night still hadn’t fully worn off, who knew…

Still in a bit of a daze, you floated toward the immense double doors leading to the Casino, already hearing the jingling of slot machines singing proud over the pounding pop beats as their backing track.

The casino was lit by ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, deliberately dimmed to give way to the bright, flashing lights of the various gaming machines assembled around the hall, surrounding a set of card tables in its centre. Chatter and laughter filled the room and people crowded around the tables, playing without a care in the world and having the time of their lives; everyone seemed to have a goblet in hand and a cash card in the other, not dissimilar to your current state. It was warmer in here, though still comfortable enough that you could breathe… Just about.

You wandered through and your attention was glued to a game of roulette at a table beside you, where a couple had just won who knows what, when you were interrupted by a greeting that you just somehow knew was directed at you.

“Well, hello, there,” you heard in a smooth, low tenor behind you.

You whirled around on your heel to be met by… a guy. Literally just a guy, casually leaning on his gorgeously tanned forearms on a nearby craps table, aimlessly toying with a pair of dice in his left hand as he gazed over at you. He was certainly easy on the eyes with his vaguely familiar but handsome face, a mischievous little smirk on his lips, and pretty brown eyes that sparkled in the flashing lights… There was something about those eyes that drew you in. And for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away…

He looked like the most normal person in the room, but he seemed entirely out of place, given that everyone else was dressed to the nines - meanwhile he wore a comfy tan hoodie and sweatpants set, as if he perhaps owned it all and subsequently had no rules to follow in this already-lawless land. When he stepped around his table to approach you, he certainly did swagger around like he ruled the place, and his companions nearby looked at him like they worshipped the ground he walked on. Perhaps he was important, but how were you to know?

“You come here often?” he flirted, just about the most awful pickup line imaginable, but you were past the point of questioning why it still sounded attractive.

How had you ended up here, anyway? Hell knew… But this was Sin City, after all; a little harmless flirting could do you no harm, surely… 

“Nope, never been here before. But weirdly, I don’t want to leave…” you shrugged, taking another sip of that strangely addictive drink.

“Sounds about right, Miss…”

“[Y/N],” you offered casually, uncharacteristically not hesitant.

“Pleasure to meet you…” he said with a playful lilt to his tone, holding out a hand, “They call me Hermes.”

When you shook his hand, for a split second you could’ve sworn you weren’t there anymore - when his smooth hand held yours, something akin to a firework went off inside your mind, and you’d put it down to just sparks if not for the phantom breeze you felt just then, a gust that nearly knocked you off your feet.

You couldn’t place what it was, exactly, but there was something strange about this man. He bore an almost otherworldly quality, as though he wasn’t human at all… But how could he be anything else? Come to think of it, there was a similarly supernatural energy about the casino itself; no wonder he fit right in to this weird wonderland.

“What, you got a Birkin in your back pocket or something, Mr Hermes?” you laughed, trying to shake off that odd suspicion, only to be met by his indignant scowl. Even that was cute.

“And what business do you have with my back pockets?” he teased, tucking one hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, to which you raised an intrigued brow.

You shrugged, nonchalant, still reeling from that strange feeling. “Nothing yet, but perhaps I’d like to find out…”

“Obviously I do not, but I could hook you up.” The innuendo wasn’t lost on you, least of all when Hermes smirked, that patented brand of mischief you were quickly growing quite fond of as he swaggered across to the card table; the players welcomed him back gladly. “Care for a game?” he asked, seemingly winning one without even paying attention to it as he rolled the dice carelessly onto the table that stood between you.

As he retrieved the dice, you eyed his hands curiously; they could only be described as pretty, as though he might be a pianist or… an artist of some description. He had his sleeves rolled back and a gold-plated Rolex glimmered on one wrist, a chunky gold chain-link bracelet on the other, and something about that on him was distractingly attractive. It all screamed money, despite his casual tracksuit getup, which would’ve been nothing special if it didn’t look so needlessly expensive in itself. You absently wondered what that obscure tattoo on his ring finger meant, for surely it couldn’t imply he might be taken…

“It’s not like you have anything to lose,” Hermes commented, interrupting your line of thought as he set a few chips down on the table and retrieved his own green Cash Card from his pocket, holding it up to show you. So everyone had them; then, what was the point?

Oh, right. You likely couldn’t do anything with the money outside, so, go figure it was an unlimited free pass.

“I guess I’m in. After all, what you gonna do when the chips are down?” you quoted a challenge, holding your own smug look at the recognition in his eyes.

“I see you speak my language…” he teased, “Even if those aren’t exactly my words.”

“Funny you should mention that. Has anyone ever told you you look a bit like Lin-Manuel Miranda?”

“So I’ve been told! Though, I think the correct expression would be that he looks like me. Same difference, he’s me, I’m him, whatever.” He waved a flippant hand, as if instructing you to ask no further questions on the topic.

“Gotcha…” You laughed, putting this all down to a wacky dream by now as you joined him by the card table. “What is this, anyway?” you asked him, raising your goblet in his general direction. He was the only person here without one, which didn’t entirely make sense to you, even in the logic of twisted fever dreams.

“Raise a glass to freedom… and throw it the fuck away,” he sang with a laugh, “Seriously, though, that’s a little addictive psychedelic beverage called blue lotus wine. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t drink a drop.”

“And what if I already did?”

“Well, then you’re well and truly screwed…” Hermes grinned, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. He swiped the half-full glass out of your hand and knocked back the remainder of the wine in one quick gulp, his gaze never leaving yours as he deposited the empty glass on a tray carried away by one of those apparating Barbie waitresses. “And now, so am I.”

He waved over another waitress and grabbed two new glasses of wine off her tray, politely handing one to you. He brought his glass to his lips, slowly sipping at the wine as you eyed his hand wrapped around the glass, absently wondering what that seemingly delicate touch would feel like on you… There was no reason why the simple act of this man drinking hallucinatory wine should’ve been remotely sexy, but you could say the same for him in general; this shouldn’t work, but god damn, it does.

“Was that really the best idea if it’s—” you began, and he quickly cut in.

“Absolutely not, no, but if you come here to forget, you may as well do it right…” Hermes sighed, a momentary flash of resignation in his stance as he briefly let his shoulders droop. “Anyway, whatever, fuck real life. Let’s play?” he offered, running a hand through his dark hair, seemingly shaking himself out of the memory of whatever haunting reality had led him here. As a matter of fact, what had led you here?

“Sure,” you smiled, “What are we playing? I’m pretty sure I saw an arcade on my way in…”

“Come on, there’s no stakes in that! This is where the real fun’s at,” he said with a light laugh, gesturing to the craps table in front of you.

“Speak for yourself. I’ll have you know, I’m amazing at air hockey!”

“Yeah? I’m a killer at the claw machine, so go figure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Cute. Shame they don’t have an escape room.”

“Just as well, I’ve always been a little too good with locks… Besides, this place itself is an escape room. Only, there’s no escape…”

“Wait, what?”

“Because… You want to stay, right? What’s waiting for you outside?”

Suddenly, you found yourself struggling to answer his question. Where barely a few moments ago, everything had been so clear, now you could see a hazy cloud inside your mind as you desperately searched for the answer to no avail, almost as though that hallucinogen was beginning to hit hard… 

“Outside? What’s outside? I — I could stay here — You’re… Huh?” you stuttered, “I don’t know where else I’d go.”

Hermes sighed, glancing over at you. “Literally anywhere but here.”

“Sorry?” you questioned, brows furrowed. Had you misread his signals?

“Walk with me,” he offered, and so you obliged as he stepped towards you again. You followed his lead as he strolled on within the confines of the casino, glancing surreptitiously around as though making sure you weren’t being eavesdropped on - though you could only wonder why.

“Alright, I don’t normally do this…” he drawled, “But for some reason I’m taking a liking towards you; and all trickery aside, I don’t take unfair advantage, so here’s the secret. You ever heard of Odysseus and the Lotus Eaters?” he asked seriously; you nodded your assurance. “Well, this place is kinda like their island… Only, now it’s here in the modern world, and what better place for it than Sin City? Hence the lightness in the air and the endless supply of blue lotus wine…”

You eyed him curiously, willing him to go on and trying not to focus on his initial confession. “I guess that explains a lot. So this is… eternal psychedelic bliss?”

“Yep, that good old adrenaline and dopamine rush, forever and ever and everrrrr… Half of Olympus has tried to claim it, but nobody really knows whose work of chaotic genius this was.” He shrugged nonchalantly, not at all like he was explaining such an outlandish concept. “When you’re in a casino, time just seems to work differently - and just like that, time moves at its own distorted pace in here. Lost travellers often find their way into this place, it has that draw when you stray off your path - and that’s why I hang out here, not just to wander astray from my own shit, but to guide you back to yours. I’m not immune to this,” he raised his glass, gesturing to the wine, “But I can handle the air just fine, unlike most mortals…”

“And what if I want to get lost?” you challenged, plucking his glass out of his hand, holding his gaze as you brought the drink to your lips. His gaze remained fixed on you as he bit his own lip, his eyes flickering to your lips for a millisecond as you sipped the wine; thirsty, not dissimilar to the way you’d been eyeing him mere seconds ago.

“Mmkay, lucky for you, I have some semblance of sense about me,” Hermes said, stopping by a poker table nearby, where the players immediately cleared a spot for the pair of you. Entirely nonchalant, he swiped a deck of cards off the table, expertly shuffling it as he spoke, “So win the next deal, and I’ll get you out of here.”

“So if I lose, I’m stuck in here?” you attempted to clarify the stakes, trying not to get distracted as you watched him shuffle those cards. Hell, he had such pretty hands, what else could you do but wonder what else he could do with them?

“Pretty much.”

“And what if I ask for a better deal?”

“Better than having your real life back?”

“Yep.”

“Try me…”

“Okay. If I win, my prize is you.”

“Me? What’s the catch?”

“Nothing. Just, you and me, until not even the gods above can separate the two of us,” you teased, peak dramatic, somewhere between flirting and floating. You could get used to this, the weightless feeling of flight…

Hermes quirked a brow at you, undeniably amused. “Interesting thought, given that I’m… well, not above, per se, but one of them.”

“You’re… what now?” You tilted your head to one side, looking curiously across at him. What in the world was he on about?

He shot you a pointed stare, isn’t it obvious? But it wasn’t, until now… when it all began to make sense, slowly: what this place was, how he knew so much about it, why he had a more heightened sense of awareness despite the inherent hypnotism of the literal and metaphorical lotus flower you’d stepped into… And he could guide lost travellers out. Your jaw dropped as your hand flew to your mouth when it finally dawned upon you who and what he was, and what that entailed —

And out loud, all you could manage was a whisper; “Oh, my god…”

The Greek god in front of you heaved a dramatic sigh, aiming a playful eye-roll in your direction. “Please, like I haven’t heard that one before,” he chuckled lightly, the sarcasm heavy in his tone.

And so you let him deal your hand and you played, stopping every so often to laugh, for Hermes was surprisingly fun to be around and perhaps staying here with him wouldn’t be so bad… Only, this couldn’t be his permanent residence. He was the god of travel, it made sense that he never hung around one place long enough to settle. It was obvious he had a natural charisma about him that clearly worked in his favour more than once; and not that it really mattered, but you absently wondered how many like you had crossed paths with him before, and the past baggage he’d been trying to forget was certainly not lost on you…

He had his right arm slung casually around your shoulder, his left occupied by his cards, not caring if you could see them. You tried your level best to stay focused; for you were feeling a little lightheaded by now, a combination of the wine and the strong scent of his cologne… He was close, enough that you could pick up the gentle sweet notes beneath the woody cedar scent he wore.

“All in?” you suggested, nudging your chips toward the centre of the table, glancing up at the literal god beside you.

“I am if you are,” Hermes smirked, pushing his own ridiculous amount of chips into the pot beside yours.

The game went on; and as if out of nowhere, thanks to a sudden turn in your luck and a surprise royal flush - which if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve attributed to him - you had finally won. Caught up in the daze, you stepped up onto your toes and threw your arms around his neck in an excited hug. He was momentarily taken aback by it, but quickly regained enough composure to gently wrap his arms around you. His soft touch bore a pleasantly startling contrast to his mischievous demeanour, and you found yourself not wanting to let go.

“Well played…” he congratulated you in that same teasing tone as he gently drew you back, briefly glancing at his watch and tapping two fingers against the side of the dial.

Perhaps you would’ve wondered why, but spurred on by your victory and high off the adrenaline, you hooked one finger in the gold chain around his neck and gently tugged at it to urge him closer, until the distance between you was barely a hair’s breadth. You could feel the warmth radiating off him in waves, his intense cologne flooding your senses. And suddenly it didn’t faze you that you were in public, and you paid no mind to the way all his casino companions were frozen around you instead of continuing their games… Suddenly, all you wanted was him. 

Was it blasphemous to lust after a god?

Hell, you could deal with the consequences of that later, for right now, his magnetism was pulling you in and you couldn’t bear to look away from those deep, dark brown eyes… Until Hermes leant closer to you and his soft lips brushed yours as he spoke, barely above a whisper yet you could hear him clearly despite the noise, “Not at all…”

Your breathing hitched, at his comment, at his proximity, at… everything about this. How the fuck did he know what you’d been thinking? 

Perhaps you’d dwell on that longer, but just then he reached up to cup your cheek. Though unexpectedly tender, his touch was white hot where his skin met yours, but pleasurably so as you let yourself get lost in it, in him… He pressed his lips to yours in two delicate little pecks, clearly just teasing, and you just about caught sight of his smirk before you stepped up onto your toes to kiss him again, for real this time. His other hand smoothly dropped to your waist, holding you against him and you pulled at his chain with your finger still caught in it, curling your other fist in the soft cotton of his hoodie.

Apparently, even the gods weren’t immune to carnal need, and Hermes was evidently faring no better than you; he gave in to the kiss quickly, all but melting into you, his tongue swiping insistently at your bottom lip, and you weren’t about to stop him. You parted your lips for him, granting him access instead of prolonging this teasing that had left you both desperate. He tasted of something indescribably sweet, mixed with the rich taste of the blue lotus wine that you’d both downed not so long ago, and you already knew he was a far better intoxicant than any drink you’d find here… As he deepened the kiss, his tongue brazenly tasting yours, borderline hungry; you saw a flash of light behind your eyelids, gripped by the feeling that you were flying, all for a mere moment before you became hyperaware of his heated touch and the fact that your feet were still firmly planted on the soft floral-patterned carpet of the casino.

It felt like time had frozen, the world had stopped around you, and nothing mattered except for him and you and the most perfect kiss you’d ever had…

But somehow, instead of clouding your thoughts like you’d expected, you drew back from his kiss with some clarity. Hermes had told you he could never lose. So why, then, had you just managed to win this? You were no expert when it came to these games, and he was clearly a well-seasoned gambling master… Had the notorious trickster god manipulated the deal in your favour? Had he purposely thrown this away for you?

The glimmer in his eyes only looked brighter as you separated, yet somehow those deep browns looked darker, lust clearly getting the better of him; and he made no effort to hide it, despite his small smile and the lightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. You were fairly sure you mirrored it all, and you were in no hurry to let him go…

Only, as the world began to come back into focus, you realised time really had stopped around you: everything and everyone in the casino was frozen, and you glanced up at the god in front of you with a mix of curiosity and fear in your eyes. “When you said you could stop time…” you began, still in disbelief.

Hermes nodded slowly, meeting your gaze with that characteristic smirk. “Yeah, I meant that literally. I may have had a running out of time crisis once, hence… this stolen life-saver,” he explained, raising his wrist to show you his watch - now upon closer inspection, you realised the hour, minute and second hands all pointed to 12, and he hovered a finger over a button at the side of the dial. “It’s up to you. Want me to bring it back?”

You shook your head. Not only did that beautiful gold timepiece look unfairly gorgeous on his wrist; it also held a piece of magic that could be incredibly useful… “No,” you whispered, “I’m in no hurry. Let’s make this last…”

You tilted your chin up towards him again, and he obliged you with another sweet little kiss. “Well, then… Perhaps I could show you some of the wonders of existing beyond space and time…” he murmured, “What d’you say to that?”

“I say, make time stop for us a little longer. Take me to another world, Hermes…”

The look he shot you just then, could’ve brought you to your knees on the spot - somehow you just knew he was fixated on the sound of his name as you whispered it, and you wondered how he could make you feel that just from a simple touch.

“C’mon, sweetheart; let’s get out of here,” Hermes suggested, offering you an arm; you linked your arm through his as he tapped the side of his watch, resuming the world around you as if it had never paused at all. 

You gazed up at him in awe as he led you out of the casino, back to the lobby and towards the opening of the blooming flower you’d walked in through. The humid summer air hit you both as you stepped outside together, thereby breaking the spell - but you were still captivated by him, regardless. He briefly let go of you to do away with his warm hoodie, leaving him in just a fitted white t-shirt that had no business looking so goddamn gorgeous on him.

You couldn’t help but smile as he hummed softly in your ear, “There’s a place I know in a nearby park…”

Part 2 via AO3 (blasphemous smut ahead)

[sgiandubh]

From barf bag to pity party

The whole 'Kick in the hornets' nest' involuntary series was started by this Anon, received by the de facto leader of the Disgruntled Tumblrettes yesterday evening (in Europe):

The next morning, another Anon chimed in, on the same page, with what prompted the First Kick: S has a child with 'a woman', but God forbid, not with C 🤣🤣🤣.

And then, one of their group felt the need (then the clearly irritated urge) to come back and comment on the above Anon. No less than 5 (five!) long and plethoric comments were written, prompting my Second and Third Kicks - as you all know, the woman practically begged for them.

I feel it's time to show some mercy and draw the line here.

This blog is read (and trusted) by many. Comments were received. Very interesting, matter-of-fact submissions, to say the least. You know: FACTS (🤣🤣🤣). People who have rich and full and loving lives, people who travel. People who don't even agree on many things, yet spontaneously concurred on what things very probably looked like, on that Palm Sunday morning.

Exhibit 1: Mom and Traveler #1 (a mom I am not - but I was a child, unbelievable as it might sound, and I absolutely confirm every single bit of it)

I am not yet ridden with dementia, and I remember very well waking everyone up at ungodly hours and refusing my mandatory afternoon siesta (a very bad habit we have in Southern Europe). I wish I would still have that same insane energy now. I also wish I would have kept my 3 year old fashion model food quirks - but that is another story.

However, I am a dog slave (not owner) and as such, I am taking Baby out for his short (but excruciating) morning routine at 7:30 AM. Come rain or shine. Beg him to finish his business with grace and dignity. He never listens. Labs are a charming, addictive handful and my Greek boy is no exception:

Exhibit 2: Mom and Traveler #2. Who happened to be in GLA on Palm Sunday, March 24, 2024 (for the thick people at the back!):

All that trip was abundantly documented on her own page. I am reasonably sure she might be reblogging this with her own pics from that day.

And now, for the real questions at stake:

Why make such an unbelievable fuss over an Anon with no pic, that I was reluctant to publish myself?

Why have a cosmic meltdown, in public nonetheless, if you do think this is such a pile of unbelievable nonsense crap? (*imagine the freakout in DMs, if this made the headlines!)

How many times has/have S (or C, or SC) been seen by Antis in GLA in similar postures, without a word being uttered in public?

Why would such an occurrence be An Event, outside of this (help me, I have no words) fandom?

Why insist with your crappy arguments, when it is plain to see you have got all your facts dreadfully wrong?

Why mention 'central Glasgow', when it is public lore (and included in Waypoints!) that S does not live there anymore? (* I blacked out the exact reference, which makes total sense - the least thing I would like to see happening is freaks like you stalking them)

One last time, you insist - comments 6 and 7 (wow, girl!):

First comment is a lie and if you read my Anon (and you know you all did and discussed it to oblivion) you'll have also read this:

Which part of 'he didn't approach' you don't get, in plain English, madam? I am lousy at drawing, but hey - for the cause (open in separate page, questionable humor included):

Second comment, I won't even get into it. God only knows what the hell you meant. I am Romanian and we tend to be a very sarcastic bunch - especially the Southerners.

You posted those at about 2:45 AM, local time (if you are, indeed, a Scot). That's 4:45 AM my time.

I am a lifelong sufferer of insomnia. You, madam, you are mad wae it, as they say in Glasgow.

Don't drink and post, seriously. It makes for a very #sorry hangover show.

And with this, I am done with you. All of you, in that corner. You showed me more than enough. You know there is substance to that Anon, despite the lack of a picture - hence the collective freakout.

From barf bag to pity party. Who knew?

[Later edit:] re-reading the sixth comment, I think she wants to imply it was the 'other child' - I was literally blind with sleep when I first saw it. Well, there is no evidence of whatever she is trying to explain (has she contacted The Climber? between midnight and 2 AM, local time?). Also, a 5 year old child is not a toddler anymore: kids are considered toddlers up to 3, only. That boy, as we all know (and I am sorry we do), has dark hair - where is the resemblance Anon noticed?

Desperate, grasping at straws, lying through her teeth and mad wae it, all the way.

@pamalissou, thanks for bringing us a third mom's POV in your reblog.

[ravennaortiz]

The guys reactions to accidently hurting you- SONS Version

Chibs- "You broke my toes" you stated as the nurse wheeled you out of x-ray. "All of them. Our wedding is tomorrow Filip you continued in a monotone voice. Chibs cringed as he took in what you were saying. "I'm sorry kitten. I only meant to surprise you with my dance moves....I should have taken my boots off" he apologized as he knelt next to you and kissed your hand.

Halfsack- He has apologized a half dozen times as he presses the bag of frozen peas to your left cheek. He had only wanted to show you some self defense techniques like you had asked. He had not expected you to step forward when he swung at you while he was explaining how to duck. The sound of his fist hitting your soft skin almost made him vomit as the scene replayed for him. "I took that hit well I think" you murmured as you wiped away the last remaining tears making him snort. "You did cry less than most of people I hit" he joked as he kissed your forehead.

Happy- "So sorry baby girl" murmured Happy as he fed you ice cream in bed. "Its okay. Was an accident" you replied as you offered him a sincere smile. Your tough biker had taken your injury harder than you. The ribbing from the rets of the club had not helped either. "Should have explained the kickback better. Hell should not have let you try that gun. No need. Just thought you looked hot with it in your hands" ranted Happy before you cut him off with a kiss.

Jax- The silence as you made your way slowly through the clubhouse is honestly loud. Rolling your eyes you see Jax sitting at the head of the table alone. "I am going to start therapy and anger management classes" he stated when he saw you leaning against the door frame. "Yeah, good call. I know you were going for Happy. Weak as tables fault for collapsing under all our weight" you tried to joke. "Good news nothing broken on me at least. Bad news you fucked my crow tattoo up"

Juice-What was suppose to be tipsy, sexy time turned into tipsy where is our medical supplies quickly. He is beside himself as he holds gauze to your ass cheek. Your attempts at humor were not helping the guilt train he had himself on. "Baby, I'm good its not even bleeding" you laugh as you try and turn over on his lap but he keeps you firmly face down. Sighing you stop trying to move. "Juice it was a belt buckle. Not like you stabbed me or meant to do it. Can we please get back to what we were doing?" you pleaded as he mumbled sorry again.

Kozik- Sitting by your bedside he is somber. He cant help but replay the crash over and over again. Trying to decide what he could have done different. What if he hadn't grabbed your arm? Would you have been fine or would you have sailed over the side of the cliff? Was he going to fast? Should he have expected the drunk driver to be coming at you guys around the blind curve? "I'm sorry" he murmurs again as he kisses your hand. The doctors said you will be fine but he's not sure if he will.

Opie- He is beside himself, after the loss of Donna he cant believe he has love. He cant even bring himself to get on the ambulance and his phone call to Jax has the whole club screeching to a stop in front your house. "I killed her" he sobs as Jax kneels next to him. "She asked me to buy a step stool and I was like I'm a step stool. Lifted her up and lost my grip and she hit her head. Before Jax can say anything a paramedic is hovering. "Sir, your wife is demanding you get in the ambulance. She said and I quote stop acting like a blubbering mess or she will give you a reason to act like this."

Ratboy-He cant believe how dumb he was. Has suggested you break up with him a couple times as he carries you down the mountain the two of you had been hiking. You can walk and are fine. Its bruised and scraped knees not broken bones you had told him. "I'm sorry for proposing to you" he blurts out once you guys are at the car. "I mean I love you and want you forever but like for how I did it" he adds as you glare up at him.

Tig- "Well we all learned something today. There is a reason you use certain candles for wax play. Don't go cheap or you end up in the ER" stated Tig with a chuckle as he helped you onto your bed. Careful not to brush the burns on your back and hips. A low growl and the middle finger is all you offered your old man. Tig swallowed hard and sighed. "One day we will look back on tonight and laugh" he tried again as he squeezed one of your butt cheeks playfully. "Go away" you demanded.

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[jokeroutsubs]

📝ENG Translation: Proofread Demoni lyrics with English translation by JokerOutSubs

For the purpose of the second anniversary of Demoni album, we've put together a proofread version of the lyrics, along with English translations made by the JokerOutSubs team!

We've also updated our Lyricstranslate with all English versions from Demoni, you can find them here. (Some linebreaks, punctuations and capitalizations differ on there because we used Demoni album booklet as reference for our transcripts!)

Translations below the cut!

Katrina (SLO)

Iščejo roke pot do njenega sveta. A ne razumejo, da tam ni prostora za oba. Le njeni glasovi, ko plešem z volkovi, ugašajo nemir. Pozabi me, kakor da me sploh ni tu. Izrabi me, ko strah prevlada v snu. Le njeni glasovi, ko plešem z volkovi, ugašajo nemir.

Povej mi, Katrina, me sploh rada imaš? Nazaj se ti vračam, da me spet izigraš.

Čaka me poraz, neizbežen v bitki tej. Večer bo dokaz, prav to me vleče k njej. Le njeni nasmehi, na poti k utehi, ugašajo nemir.

Kličejo me solze na pomoč. Nočejo za njo razlit se vsako noč. Ne sprejmejo mojega opravičila, da se bo zame spremenila.

Povej mi, Katrina, me sploh rada imaš? Nazaj se ti vračam, da me spet izigraš. Šibko točko udari, le ti jo poznaš.

Povej mi, Katrina, me sploh rada imaš? Nazaj se ti vračam, da me spet izigraš. Vse bolj gorim, hrepenim za vsakim strelom, ki ga zadaš.

Katrina (ENG)

Hands search a path to her world, but they don't understand that there's no room for both. Only the sounds she makes, when I dance with the wolves, chase off the restlessness Forget me like I am not even here. Use me when fear wins in your slumber. Only the sounds she makes, when I dance with the wolves, chase off the restlessness

Tell me, Katrina, do you even love me? I come back to you, for you to double cross me again.

I'm waiting for defeat, inevitable in this battle, the evening will be the proof, just this pulls me towards her. Only her smiles on the path to comfort chase off the restlessness.

My tears are calling out for help They don't want to spill for her every night. They don't accept my apology, that she will change for me.

Tell me, Katrina, do you even love me? I come back to you, for you to double cross me again. Hit my weak spot, only you know it.

Tell me, Katrina, do you even love me? I come back to you, for you to double cross me again. I'm burning and yearning after every shot, that you inflict.

Ne bi smel (SLO)

Oprosti, da spet kličem te, čeprav je pozno in sovražiš me. Rad bi vedel, kaj lahko naredim, da mikrokozmos tvoj nazaj dobim.

Ni besed pravilnih, celo noč sem jih iskal. Razen, da iskreno rečem, da neskončno mi je žal. Žal mi je, da te bolim, boljše ni v pesmi tej. Žal mi je, da sem bil slep in tega nisem videl prej.

Čez resnico sem potresel svoj pepel. Večno kriv, nikoli cel.

Vem, da ne bi smel, a drugače nisem znal ugasniti tišine, bežati od bližine. Žal, drugače nisem znal. Izdal te za trenutek lažne sreče, zdaj pa spet me k tebi vleče.

Oprosti, da ti kradem čas. Hotel sem ti vse povedat in slišati tvoj glas. Rane puščam si odprte, da jih objame sol, če ne vrneš se domov.

Čez resnico sem potresel svoj pepel. Večno kriv, nikoli cel.

Vem, da ne bi smel, a drugače nisem znal ugasniti tišine, bežati od bližine. Žal, drugače nisem znal. Izdal te za trenutek lažne sreče, zdaj pa spet me k tebi vleče. Spet me k tebi vleče.

A žal, drugače nisem znal.

I Shouldn't Have (ENG)

I'm sorry for calling you again Even though it's late and you hate me I want to know what can I do To get your microcosmos back

There are no right words, I was searching for them all night long Unless I tell you the truth that I'm infinitely sorry

I'm sorry that I've hurt you, there is nothing better in this song I'm sorry That I've been blind and haven't noticed it before

Poured my ashes over the truth Always guilty, never whole

I know I shouldn't have, but I didn't know how else to Turn off the silence, run away from intimacy But unfortunately I didn't know any other way Betrayed you for a moment of fake happiness But now I want to go back to you

Sorry for wasting your time I wanted to tell you everything and hear your voice I'll leave my wounds open, To let in the salt, if you don't come back home

Poured my ashes over the truth Always guilty, never whole

I know I shouldn't have, but I didn't know how else to Turn off the silence, run away from intimacy But unfortunately I didn't know any other way Betrayed you for a moment of fake happiness But now I want to go back to you I want to go back to you

But unfortunately I didn't know any other way

Plastika (SLO)

Nisem si všeč, čas je za modifikacijo. Trenutek je popoln za operacijo.

Filter mi ne dela, ko se gledam v ogledalu. Koža ni več sveža in sivijo mi lasje, pa triindvajset jih imam šele.

Plastika, znanstvena fantastika. Plastika, znanstvena fantastika. Jaz pa ti, ti pa jaz, vsi imamo en obraz. Juhuhu, hahaha, originalna kopija. Plastika, znanstvena fantastika.

Nova sem oseba, ko zbudim se iz narkoze. Lica pod pritiskom mi zapirajo oči. Malo težje govorim, ampak dobre so prognoze, eno leto bo tako in potem več ne boli.

Ko vrne se zavest, eno fotkico objavim. Ne morem se odločit, a se jočem ali smejim. Srčkajo na polno in letijo komentarji, sanjsko dobro izgledam in od sreče kar žarim.

Jaz bom za vedno lep, drugo nič mi ni pomembno. Razkrajal se bom tisoč let. Kaj me briga, če ni dedno. Jaz bom za vedno lep, najlepši na tem svetu. Najlepši na planetu.

2x Plastika, znanstvena fantastika. Plastika, znanstvena fantastika. Jaz pa ti, ti pa jaz, vsi imamo en obraz. Juhuhu, hahaha, originalna kopija. Plastika, znanstvena fantastika.

Plastic (ENG)

Unhappy with my looks, it's time for a makeover The time is right for some surgical adjustments.

The mirror doesn't have a face filter for reflection. My skin looks dull and my hair is turning gray When I'm only twenty-three.

Plastic, science fiction. Plastic, science fiction. You and me, me and you, our faces are identical. Woohoohoo, hahaha, original replica. Plastic, science fiction.

Feeling brand new when I wake up from sedation. My puffy cheeks are blocking my sight. Talking might be tough, but there's a positive prognosis. In a year's time, there will be no trace of pain.

When I come around, I post a single selfie. I can't tell whether I should be crying or laughing. Heart emojis flood in, comments keep pouring. My looks are dreamy and I'm positively glowing.

My beauty is timeless, nothing else matters to me. It'll take a thousand years for me to decay. I don't care if it isn't genetic. My beauty is timeless ,the most beautiful in the world. The most beautiful on the planet.

2x Plastic, science fiction. Plastic, science fiction. You and me, me and you, our faces are identical. Woohoohoo, hahaha, original replica. Plastic, science fiction.

Demoni (SRB)

Prozivam mesec da se nikad ne skloni, noćas me niko ne voli, sa mnom su moji demoni.

Prozivam mesec da se nikad ne skloni, noćas me niko ne voli.

Kad nemam tebe, sa mnom su moji demoni, kad nemam tebe. Kad nemam tebe, sa mnom se igraju oni, kad nemam tebe.

Mnogo mi se noćas nebo dopada. Samoća se ocrtava u mraku. Dok naše carstvo neumorno propada, zapisuju si zvezde grešku svaku.

Prozivam mesec da se nikad ne skloni, noćas me niko ne voli, sa mnom su moji demoni.

Prozivam mesec da se nikad ne skloni, noćas me niko ne voli.

Kad nemam tebe, sa mnom su moji demoni, kad nemam tebe. Kad nemam tebe, sa mnom se igraju oni, kad nemam tebe.

Kad nemam tebe, sa mnom su moji demoni, kad nemam tebe. Kad nemam tebe, sa mnom se igraju oni, ne znam za sebe.

Demons (ENG)

I'm calling on the moon to never hide No one loves me tonight, my demons are with me

I'm calling on the moon to never hide No one loves me tonight

When I don't have you, my demons are with me When I don't have you When I don't have you, they play with me When I don't have you

I really like the sky tonight Loneliness gets outlined in the dark While our empire tirelessly falls apart The stars write down their every mistake

I'm calling on the moon to never hide No one loves me tonight, my demons are with me

I'm calling on the moon to never hide No one loves me tonight

When I don't have you, my demons are with me When I don't have you When I don't have you, they play with me When I don't have you

When I don't have you, my demons are with me When I don't have you When I don't have you, they play with me I don't feel like myself

Padam (SLO)

Pazi nase, so mi rekli tisto noč. Mesto polno je duhov, ki več te ne spustijo proč. V ognjen obroč zaprejo te, ki sprva še pogreje te, počakajo, da tiho izzveniš.

Nisem jim verjel in večeru se predal, naj kar skuša me skušnjava, jaz ne bom se ji prodal. A ko prvi je metek poletel, me naravnost med oči zadel, sem izgubil svoja tla.

Zdaj padam in padam, a me bo kdo ujel? Z odprtimi rokami, z obrazom nasmejanim. Zdaj padam in padam, a bo kdo razumel? Če mi nič ne uspe, če izgubil bom vse, kar sem si želel.

Nisem jim verjel in večeru se predal. Izpijal sem mladost, z luno bolje se spoznal. A ko prvi je metek poletel, me naravnost med oči zadel, sem izgubil svoja tla.

In preden se nova noč zavrti, okrog mene nikogar več ni. Kje ste vsi? Takrat, ko najbolj boli.

Zdaj padam in padam, a me bo kdo ujel? Z odprtimi rokami, z obrazom nasmejanim. Zdaj padam in padam, a bo kdo razumel? Če mi nič ne uspe, če izgubil bom vse, kar sem si želel.

A me bo kdo ujel? A me bo kdo ujel? A me bo kdo objel? Zdaj padam in padam.

I'm Falling (ENG)

"Keep an eye out", I was told that night. Spirits are lurking in the city, they won't let you get away. They'll lock you in a flaming cage, which even warms you up at first, until in the end they'll let you fade away.

Brushing off the voices, I surrendered to the night. Resisting the temptation, determined not to give in. The first gunshot fired hit me right between the eyes and pushed me over the edge.

I'm falling and falling, will anyone catch me? Extending arms wide open, wearing a smile. I'm falling and falling, will anyone understand if I fail, if I lose all I ever wanted?

Brushing off the voices, I surrendered to the night. Geting high on life, familiarising with the moon. The first gunshot fired hit me right between the eyes and pushed me over the edge.

Before another night came, everyone vanished. Where did you all go, when I was hurting the most?

I'm falling and falling, will anyone catch me? Extending arms wide open, wearing a smile I'm falling and falling, will anyone understand if I fail, if I lose all I ever wanted

Will anyone catch me? Will anyone catch me? Will anyone hug me? I'm falling and falling

Vse kar vem (SLO)

Slišal sem, da čas nam ne prizanaša. In da se enkrat vse lepo konča. Slišal sem, da hočeš it do konca sveta in da me več ne rabiš za sopotnika.

Vse, kar vem in kar znam, je, da ne boli, ko me tvoj objem zakriva. Kaj je prav, me ne bremeni.

Vem, da si bila enkrat že v peklu in da nazaj več ne bi rada šla. Slišal sem, da hočeš it do konca sveta in da me več ne rabiš za sopotnika.

Vse, kar vem in kar znam, je, da ne boli, ko me tvoj objem zakriva. Kaj je prav, me ne bremeni, ker s tabo svet ne izpodriva me.

All I know (ENG)

I heard that time doesn't spare us And everything nice eventually ends. I heard you want to go to the end of the world and don't need me as a companion anymore.

But all I know and I'm aware of is that it doesn't hurt, when your embrace covers me I'm not burdened by what is right.

I know you were once in hell already and don't want to go back. I heard you want to go to the end of the world and don't need me as a companion anymore.

But all I know and I'm aware of is that it doesn't hurt, when your embrace covers me I'm not not burdened by what is right, because with you, the world is not displacing me.

Ona (SRP)

Hodam opet njenom ulicom. Brutalno se vuče otkad nisam više s njom. Stanem ispod njenog prozora, jedna njena senka da me spasi očaja.

Nisam ni zaslužio da završimo uživo. Jedna poruka i via more. Snegovi u avgustu sad po meni padaju, dok tebe sunce greje, mi amore.

Znaj, bebo, znaj, celu noć sam plakao zbog tebe. Taj osećaj, da za mene živo ti se jebe, ubija me.

Kažu, vreme leči rane sve. Ali ne kažu koliko da se odviknem od nje. Godina je prošla, još vraća se u san. Vrti kao film sećanje na onaj dan.

Nisam ni zaslužio da završimo uživo. Jedna poruka i via more. Snegovi u avgustu još po meni padaju, dok te neko drugi greje, mi amore.

Znaj, bebo, znaj, celu noć sam plakao zbog tebe. Taj osećaj, da za mene živo ti se jebe.

Znaj, bebo, znaj, celu noć sam plakao zbog tebe. Taj osećaj, da za mene živo ti se jebe, ubija me, ubija me.

(Celu noć si plakao zbog mene) (Celu noć si plakao zbog mene)

She (ENG)

I'm walking down her street again Time has been dragging on brutally since we broke up I stop under her window One of her shadows to save me from despair

I didn't even deserve to break-up in person One message and off to the sea Now snow falls on me in August While the sun warms you, my love

Know, baby, know That I cried the whole night because of you The feeling That you don't give a flying fuck about me is killing me

They say time heals all wounds But they don't say how long till I wean myself off her A year has gone by, she still returns to my dreams Spins the memory of that day like a movie

I didn't even deserve to break-up in person One message and off to the sea Now snow falls on me in August While somebody else warms you, my love

Know, baby, know That I cried the whole night because of you The feeling That you don't give a flying fuck about me

Know, baby, know That I cried the whole night because of you The feeling That you don't give a flying fuck about me Is killing me, is killing me

(You cried the whole night because of me) (You cried the whole night because of me)

Tokio (SLO)

Tvoji koraki se mešajo z oblaki, ki nad tabo plešejo. Mene koraki spotaknejo, vsakič, ko se nate spomnijo.

Pisal ti bom pisma, a ne bom jih poslal. Bolje, da ostaneva spomin. Si prislikava nazaj tisti roza češnjev raj, vsak na svoj način.

Z lahkimi prsti, "Anata ga suki", si čez hrbet napisala mi. Ti tudi meni, "Watashi mo", so po tebi risale dlani.

Pisal ti bom pisma, a ne bom jih poslal. Bolje, da ostaneva spomin. Si prislikava nazaj tisti roza češnjev raj, vsak na svoj način.

Verjetno se nikoli več ne bova srečala. Le bleda slika iz polaroida ve, da sva zaplesala po ulicah Tokia.

Verjetno se nikoli več ne bova srečala. Le bleda slika iz polaroida ve, da sva zaplesala po ulicah Tokia.

Tokyo (ENG)

Your footsteps blend With the clouds dancing above you I trip over my own feet Whenever you cross my mind

I will write you letters I will never send Let's keep the memories untouched Immersing ourselves in the pink cherry blossom paradise Each in our own unique way

With feather-light fingers, "Anata ga suki" You inscribed on my back The same, "Watashi mo" My hands traced letters on your skin

I will write you letters I will never send Let's keep the memories untouched Immersing ourselves in the pink cherry blossom paradise Each in our own unique way

We may never cross paths again Only a faint polaroid picture holds the evidence Of our dance through the streets of Tokyo

We may never meet again Only a faint polaroid picture holds the evidence Of our dance through the streets of Tokyo

NGVOT - Ne govoriva več o tem (SLO)

Končno te vidim spet, hitro mine čas. Spremenil sem pogled na svet, ti pa barvo las.

Kaj te nese v Ljubljano, zdaj ko vse cveti? Nazadnje si sedela z mano, ko bil sem brez moči.

Ne govoriva več o tem. Ne govoriva več o tem. Me le odrivaš stran, ko s tabo sem iskren. Ne govoriva več o tem. Ne govoriva več o tem. A ne vidiš, da razpadam, ker ne vem?

Lepo, da še pomisliš name, včasih se mi zdi, da si me zakopala v jame pozabljenih noči.

Ignoranca ti pristaja, lajša ti skrbi. Tvoj pogled me še zavaja in fasada še stoji.

Ne govoriva več o tem. Ne govoriva več o tem. Me le odrivaš stran, ko s tabo sem iskren. Ne govoriva več o tem. Ne govoriva več o tem. A ne vidiš, da razpadam, ker ne vem?

WDTAIA - We Don’t Talk About It Anymore (ENG)

I'm finally seeing you again, time passes fast. I changed my view of the world, you changed your hair colour.

What brings you to Ljubljana, now that everything is blooming? Last time you sat with me when I was powerless.

We don't talk about it anymore. We don't talk about it anymore. You're only pushing me away when I'm being honest with you. We don't talk about it anymore. We don't talk about it anymore. Don't you see I'm falling apart because I don't know?

I'm glad you still think about me, sometimes I feel like you buried me in the caves of forgotten nights.

Ignorance suits you, it eases your worries. Your look still deceives me and the façade is still up

We don't talk about it anymore. We don't talk about it anymore. You're only pushing me away while I'm being honest with you. We don't talk about it anymore. We don't talk about it anymore. Don't you see I'm falling apart because I don't know?

Novi val (SLO)

Kam od tu naprej, če že zdaj zažigamo obzorje? Kako od tu nazaj, če je papir več vreden, kot smo mi? Tiho prepustim, naj me nosi nemirno morje. Mogoče me prav danes še zadnjič ohladi.

Radio predvaja le še strele in udarce. V časopisu piše, da smo zašli s poti. Danes bomo peli in dvigali kozarce. Včeraj smo rojeni in že vsega krivi mi.

Vabljeni vsi na karneval, da se odrinemo od tal. Generacija ljubezni, upanja. Novi val.

Letajo po zraku sledovi optimizma. Vajeti v mraku, prevzem protagonizma. Zbrali smo pogum za upor, da nekaj spremenimo. Bolje, da smo danes nori, kot da jutri se bojimo.

Vabljeni vsi na karneval, da se odrinemo od tal. Generacija ljubezni, upanja. Novi val.

Delajmo napake, čisto iz vsake izpira se zlato, izpira se zlato.

Vabljeni vsi na karneval, da se odrinemo od tal. Generacija ljubezni, upanja. Novi val.

Delajmo napake, čisto iz vsake izpira se zlato. Vabljeni vsi na karneval.

New Wave (ENG)

Where shall we go from here If we are already setting the horizon ablaze? How do we go back from here If paper holds more weight than us? In silence, I let the restless sea carry me. Maybe today it'll cool me down for the last time.

The radio only plays thunders and strikes. The newspaper says we've lost our way. Today we'll sing and raise our glasses. We were born yesterday and have already been blamed for everything.

Everyone's invited to the carnival To break free from the ground. The generation of love and hope, The new wave.

Traces of optimism are flying in the air. Taking hold of the reins in the dusk, We've gathered the courage to rebel And make a change. We are better off losing our minds today Than being afraid tomorrow.

Everyone's invited to the carnival To break free from the ground. The generation of love and hope, The new wave.

Let's make mistakes, from each and every one Gold is pouring out, gold is pouring out

Everyone's invited to the carnival To break free from the ground. The generation of love and hope, The new wave.

Let's make mistakes From each and every one Gold is pouring out. Everyone's invited to the carnival.

Please credit JokerOutSubs if you're going to use our translation.

[crimson-kisses]

i just read the "breaking point" story, and i can't help but wonder, what if the s/o, rather than snapping at him (yan! germany) all at once, simply muttered a few snide and sarcastic words every now and then? like imagine he tells them he loves them and s/o saying ily back and then mutters "yeah, i really loved it when you ruined my life's work too." under their breath and then acting like nothing happened, I hope you're doing alright though, and please take care of yourself!

Hmm, I will admit it was rather spontaneous of her to snap such a way. remember though she used to be a lawyer so lol. but your concept is actually more accurate, this would be fun to write. thank you for the consideration though! 🐝✨

Warning: Usual yandere behavior, toxic relationship, physical and verbal abuse.

🇩🇪 other work recommended // work recommended // another recommendation

die Reizung.

He gives off a sheepish look at first.

And you angrily throw a crumpled white shirt on his face, fuming at the audacity— this man had to even request you anything in the first place. As if you were his pretty little wife.

You didn’t even know his full name, he straight up had some hooligans pick you off the street.

It’s been a month since you got out of the basement, no longer fearing the muscular asshole. Since in your eyes, he was a dimwit.

"Iron your cloth by your damn self, how dare you even ask me that!", you hissed at his face. Then you turned on your heels, walking away from him with a fierce sway of your hips.

You don’t see his disapproving gaze following your figure.

"Why are those dishes piling up?",

You deliberately ignore his question and remain seated on your sofa, even though Ludwig can tell that your mind is elsewhere. Your eyes are unfocused, and your fists are firmly resting on your lap.

"I asked you a question— stop slacking around—", it’s been two months since you have been in the basement.

"Slacking around?", he receives a grumbled response through clenched teeth, "I am neither your maid nor your wife! If you want your dishes to be washed so badly, then do it yourself or hire someone for cleaning up rather than kidnapping someone",

"Come back here,"

Ludwig hissed at you after your retort. However, you simply got up from the sofa and walked away, choosing not to argue once again.

He clenches his fist and takes a deep breath, trying to remind himself that you will eventually understand.

You notice a broken plate in the morning, thrown in the dustbin.

You pull at your hair strands as you try to scream in desperation, but only thing that escapes you is a distraught whine. Almost pulling the drawers off their hinges, you try to make your hands stay still and not shake.

"What’s the matter, searching for these?",

Ludwig watches smugly as you turn towards him, with a deranged appearance. It was just how he imagined you would look like if he— nevermind, was that his expensive vase you had just thrown?

"Nice plan you had there, too bad you were too eager", dangling the keys mischievously, he leaned on the doorframe, flexing his muscles, daring you to try and get it physically.

It has been three months, and he was enjoying how you were becoming restless. You look especially attractive at the moment. It's a shame that you just broke the vase he received from his chancellor.

"Eager to get away from you, some noble man you are",

His left eye twitches as his grin slowly fades away. Ludwig tilts his head, blinking in feigned confusion.

"Have I not been a noble, patient man to you?",

You chuckled dryly, resting your hands on the polished black office table. "Please, as if you would ever be recognized for your nobility, Deutschland. History books say otherwise, don’t you think?",

Both you stare at each other for a while, until Ludwig leaves with the keys and a clenched jaw, a breath escapes as you sigh in relief.

You end up picking up the broken vase.

Fucking hell. The breakfast was burnt and you made sure to give Ludwig the most nastiest, disapproving glare.

"Don’t look at me like that, I have been running late—-“

Rolling your eyes, you watch as he simply throws the burnt food away. With the frying pan.

"Are you used to throwing your messes away?",

You try to reassure yourself that you didn’t flinch as his back hunched up and he turned at you with a glare, teeth grinding against each other.

He simply unties his apron, his eyes still on you.

"At least one of us is trying to fix things up," he whispers. You give him an offended look, keeping your fists on the curves of your waist, tightly gripping the hairbrush you had been using before running downstairs.

“Keep telling yourself that, if anything you have only been hiding your ugly urges all along.”

You yelp and your heart almost bursts open as he throws the apron at you and angrily heads upstairs.

Eerie silence follows. It has been four months.

Bundled up in the armchair, you try not to think how it smells like Ludwig’s cologne. Or notice that he has been in the library for a while with you, dusting the shelves.

Unfortunately, he seems to notice your giddy attitude as you clutch the book tighter with a bright smile. His heart squeezes in delight.

“Why the bright smile?”, he asks, masking his face with an unemotional facade.

“Oh I have simply been catching up on your misfortunes, quite a historical read”.

And his mood plummets to the lowest levels of hell itself. He narrows his eyes at you, making you feel quite accomplished at pissing him off, it was quite a pleasure.

“Give me that. Now”.

He demanded, grip tightening on the duster, his unoccupied hand stretched towards the book.

You blow a raspberry.

Before long, you couldn't help but let out a truly horrified scream as Ludwig forcefully slammed both of his arms onto the chair's armrests. His knee was pressed harshly against yours as he seethed with anger, towering over you.

The book was furiously thrown out of the window, resulting in a deafening sounds of cracking glass.

His eyes glared into your soul, causing you to almost hyperventilate from the sheer terror coursing through your body.

Ludwig gazed at your petrified figure for a while, as if he were devouring your presence with his eyes. Then, he moistened his dry lips, turned around, and began stacking some books.

You stayed seated on the armchair for a long time, staring mindlessly at the calendar.

Five months have passed.

“Where is my office bag I placed in my room?!”, he asks from the bathroom as he hastily wears his jacket.

“Up my ass, search in the dining room, didn’t you throw it over there the last time?”,

“And who’s fault was that?”,

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make it appear uniformed. Remembering, he was out of hair gel, he cursed.

“Your fault because apparently you can’t accept that fact that you are a verdammter Verlierer”,

He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the way you implied so many things he would rather put up in the back of his mind. including the vulgar words you have taken a liking to.

“I am not the one held captive”,

He gives you a look and it makes you fume, this piece of shit—

“I wasn’t the one who had my so called mindless fascist delusions shattered”.

You exited the bedroom with a bang of the door, trying to ignore and not run at the sound of a smashed mirror.

It’s been about six months.

"If you bothered to check the calendar, you will know that it isn’t the 1940’s anymore. Get yourself a woman who wants to be your slave",

You slam the magazine near his table and exit his office, Ludwig bangs a clenched fist on his table in frustration at your defiance. He had only asked you to dry up the clothes in the sun.

That was it. Apparently that was too much for you.

He had no issues with doing the house chores, but he was a busy nation. He simply requested you to do this simple chore but god forbid you get off your ass— and your comment irked him immensely, this quirk you had of bringing up his past over and over again to provoke him.

It annoyed him.

He does check the calendar of course, quite intriguingly.

Ludwig reminds himself that it has only been seven months.

You continue sleeping on the couch everyday. And everyday Ludwig carefully places you on his bed to rest and not strain yourself. Everyday you curse at him to not touch you ever again.

But he knows you are simply embarrassed. Trying to keep up a strong and steady appearance, you always hated to admit that you are weak and helpless.

He knows you are trying hard to displease the shit out of him, and that’s why he tries to be patient. And also because he is way too stronger than you, Ludwig knows that deep down you are scared of him, no bite and all bark, he knows you end up having panic attacks over him.

The flinches you try to suppress when he comes near you, holding your breath when he talks to you. He is all aware. Frightened stares, shuddering breath, trembling legs.

He knows and he hates it.

You shove his blanket on his arms and head downstairs in a furious rush, crashing on the couch with your poor excuse of a blanket.

He bites his tongue to refrain himself from reminding you, that wherever you slept, it was something he payed for. Including your dresses, makeup and everything else in this house, it was paid for or built and made by Ludwig.

It will take more time than eight months to thaw your heart.

“At the very least, you can tidy up the rooms and stop, stop trying to break down the door”,

Gulping down the rest of your beer, you give him a nonchalant look.

“Why should I do so? We have had this conversation a dozen times. I am not your maid. And especially not your wife”.

He’s tired, the lack of hair gel has turned his hair into a complete mess, he forgot to buy it again. Ludwig slowly removes his coat, which he placed on the counter where you were leaning.

You try to stay still, but your knees almost give out as he stares at you through his lashes. It’s calm, level-headed look.

His white shirt is folded at the sleeves, tie turned loose and he’s breathing heavily.

“Cant you tidy up yourself? Or is that too beneath your superior ass”, you taunt him, curling up your cherry red lips.

“it’s eleven pm, I have been busy since six am. I am tired”,

“Well you aren’t my husband”.

He gives you that look again and you wonder whether he is offended or hurt. Frankly though, you couldn’t care less.

“Missing your man, süße Maus?",

You bristle at the nickname and the mention of— your boyfriend whom he murdered, right in front of your very eyes.

Narrowing your gaze, you prepare to escape his wrath as you hiss out in a demeaning manner,

“A man— who was much more of a man than you will ever be”.

Swiftly you entered the library nearby after seeing the darkened expression on his face. A heated glare and a reddened hue. You slid down the locked door, ignoring the trembling of your own body.

Nine months. You feel the entire house shake as Ludwig slams his bedroom door.

“You look so beautiful in that skirt, schöne Frau",

“You reek of beer and disappointment”.

Paying no heed to your comment, Ludwig wraps his hands around your waist, he is drunk and you almost gag at the overwhelming smell of alcohol.

“You smell so— *hiccup*— pretty, mein hübsches kleines baby",

“Quite your blabbering, it’s nine am in the fucking morning”.

“I am so glad— so to, ugh, have you as mine”,

“I will never be your woman”.

He stops blabbering for a minute, hands tightening their hold on your waist, you try not to squirm.

His lips hover around your ear, his hand touching your hair and skimming his hands through the strands.

“We will— will see about that”,

You stay still in his arms, his eyes blazing and staring at your soul from the reflection in the window.

You wished your body didn't feel this way. So trapped and writhing in frustration and horror, every touch of his fingers, his breath and look seemed to stain your being.

“I want dinner to be prepared tomorrow”.

He whispers. It’s not a debate or a demand but a warning said in a lovey dovey tone. His tightened grip sends the point across.

It’s been ten months.

You violently throw the plate full of food on a wall nearby, sending porcelain shards all over the place and the food splashed over the wall.

“You… you faked a dead body and made it seem as if I had died?… you— you are nothing short of DISGUSTING!”,

Ludwig gazes at the mess with a disappointed expression, seemingly unaffected by your tears as you break down in front of him.

"Whoever said I faked a dead body?" he exclaimed, forcefully stabbing a piece of steak with a fork. "It was completely real, and I must say, quite familiar with you."

Your lungs feel as if it has collapsed on itself as you fall down to the floor in pure, unadulterated horror. He was joking, a sick pathetic joke to get under your skin, there was no way— no possible way that the burned and mutilated body could have been identified, even through dishonest means, as that of a woman.

"What did my boyfriend even do to deserve this!?, you sick jealous man!!",

The blond simply ignored your tantrums, sipping on a glass of soda, eyes boring down at your crying form.

"At the very least he got a proper burial, rather than being thrown into a lake as I had intended",

Silence.

"I WILL NEVER LOVE A MURDERER LIKE YOU!",

You quickly grab a knife and attempt to attack him, but you end up pushed face-first onto the dining table, with your arms forcefully held behind your back.

"I wonder how you them fooled huh? Still interested in experimenting with things, humans, Herr Beilschmidt?",

He grabs your chin in a vice grip, hand covering your mouth as you try to taunt, spit and hurl insults at him, he only tuts at your behavior with furrowed brows.

You wanted to kill him.

"I don’t want you to mention that man ever again".

Tears well up in your eyes as uncontrollable sobs escape from your body. Ludwig presses you down in that position for a long time as he calls someone on his phone to clean up the mess.

"Don't worry, for once I have taken your advice. They are skilled cleaners who know how to handle a messy situation, if you catch my dry sense of humor."

Eleventh months and counting.

"I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOU. VERDAMMTE SCHEISSE!! ONCE I GET YOU, YOU WILL REGRET EVER THINKING OF THIS HÜNDIN!!",

Ludwig was furious. Firstly, he was hit by a pretty heavy vase from upstairs, and secondly, he was bleeding a fuckton. Thirdly, the front door was open and you had escaped.

The home was clean, laundry done, dishes pristine and dinner warmly prepared, you were dressed so prettily that it melted him so good when he came home tired from work. What he didn’t account for was an elaborate murder plan attempted towards him. Sadly for you, he had suffered worse and was also an immortal.

He was done being patient and playing the nice cop, especially after you had hurled hurtful insults at him, and what was that you said?

This wasn’t the 1940’s? That he had no power anymore, that he was just a pathetic dog with no backbone in that sweet, sweet tone of yours? That he was a sick, pathetic man who will never be loved?

He let out a series of chilling giggles that gradually escalated into full-blown laughter, the sound reverberating throughout the house. He loosened his irritating tie and tossed it onto the ground. Rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, he ran his fingers through his blond hair in frustration.

But also,

This sense of ecstasy, a thrilling sensation he was feeling… he really chose a perfect, wonderfully crazy woman, didn’t he?

It was the end of the twelfth month, and Ludwig made himself a promise to haunt your dreams with memories of the basement for months to come after he had his hands on you.

[dooralight]

staring at the shattered reflection

Stephanie held back a chuckle as Damian and Bruce continued their, quite frankly, idiotic argument.

“I said no, damian. My word is final.” Bruce stated with his ‘no nonsense’ tone. ‘Honestly’, Stephanie thought, ‘he ought to know by now that this tone will always lead to nonsense.’

“I must wear a tuxedo to the gala to let the gothamites know I am my father’s true daughter!’’ yep, more nonsense.

Bruce sighed. “Damian, I am flattered that you want to dress like me to the gala, but trust me, there are other- more reasonable ways to prove to Gotham that you’re my daughter.”

“Yeah, like the birth certificate your old man published.” Stephanie chimed in. Damian's head snapped to her direction, her expression laced with absolute betrayal, her mouth opening to to make another point. Bruce quickly stopped her. “Damian, when you grow older,  you’ll get to wear whatever you choose. But right now I need you to trust me when I say that if the press will see an eleven year old wearing something that is considered to be grown man’s wear, they will not let you live it down. I will not have you harassed by the press if I can prevent it. Understood?” 

Ooh, he used the Batman voice this time. Stephanie watched Damian as the young girl’s composure slowly broke down and her face lost its scowl to welcome a new, sad expression. wise choice.

“Good. Stephanie here kindly agreed to take you to dress shopping. I trust you'll have a lot of fun.” at that new piece of information, Damian sulked further. bruce looked like he wanted to say something, but after a moment, he sighed and turned to speak to stephanie. "here's my credit card," he handed her a golden plastic card, "buy yourself something nice to wear to the gala, too." 

stephanie couldn't help but get defensive. "I have a job, bruce. i don't need your money."

bruce rubbed his forhead at the familliar arguement as he led the girls out the room. 

"where do you all get your stubborness from?" she heard him mutter under his breath. if alfred was in the room, he'd probably raise a pointed eyebrow at the man.

“Let's get this over with as soon as possible, brown.” damian commanded as she left the room, fists clenched at her side and the knife in her bag clattering softly everytime she bounced.

‘...this is going to be fun.’

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

Despite her asking for the shopping trip to be fast, Damian sure took her time choosing a dress.

“How ‘bout this one, dames?’’ Stephanie held up a red dress with fake, pink roses sewn on the bottom of it. The younger took one glance at the dress before rejecting it with a single shake of her head. 

“Oh, c’mon damian! This is the fifth store we’ve been to! You have to like��something!” Damian crossed her hands. “It’s not my fault all of the dresses here are ugly.” Stephanie was about to respond, probably something about Damian being a spoiled brat, before her eyes caught on something; Damian had her hand folded tightly inside her bag- probably around the knife hidden there. 

she must've caught on a potential threat.

Stephanie's instincs kicked in; she immediately took Damian's arm and threw her into a changing room (which gained her an outraged shriek from the younger)  before closing the veil behind her and searched around the room for a possible threat Damian might have caught on before her. After a good minute of finding none, stephanie felt a hand pulling her into the changing room.

 “What are you doing?” Damian asked, baffled. She didn’t look alarmed, or exited for a good fight; just… stiff. Stephanie responded, just as confused, “what are you doing? Why are you holding a knife in the middle of a clothing shop? Didn’t you see something suspicious?’’ Damian stared at her for a split second before recovering. “I- Yes, yes indeed. The cashier seemed-” 

“Damian.” A split second is like an hour when you learn body language from the Cassandra cain. 

“Brown.” Damian challenged, the bat’s glare clear on her features. 

Stephanie considered glaring back, before realizing she was picking a fight with a ten years old in a clothing shop. The older made sure to soften her tone before tucking a stray dark curl behind her pseudo sister’s ear and asking the question she’s been dying to ask all day:

“Why don’t you want to wear a dress?”

Damian puffed her chest defensively. “My father is going to wear a tuxedo.”

Stephanie barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “So?” she asked. “Tt, so I need to dress like him!”

That gave Stephanie nothing to work with. “why, though? You think people will underestimate you if you dress… girly?”

Damian looked upfronted at the idea. “Underestimate? Me?! My mother wears dresses all the time and she still defeats all of her enemies. I will cut the tongue of whoever dares suggest I can't easily do the same.”

Stephanie sighed and began opening the veil of the changing room. “Y’know what? I did what I could. It’s B’s problem now. I just don-” Stephanie froze, letting the newfound information Damian provided her sink in. 

“Tt, let’s just leave this cursed sh-” Damian jumped back when Stephanie twirled around,grabbing the younger’s wrist as she crouched to meet her eyes. “Gotcha!” she said in a not-quite hushed tone.

Damian asked. “If that’s what you call a whisper, brown, then maybe you are unfit to the vigilante life after all.” 

Stephanie ignored the jab at her skills like she did for the last four hours. “Is that why you hate dresses? They remind you of your mom?” 

Damian bristled. “I don’t hate dresses!” then, in a softer tone, “and i do not hate my mother.”

Stephanie shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. “Okay… but, im going the right direction, aren’t i?”

Damian looked down. ”I suppose your detective skills aren't as bad as your-”

“Damian.”

The little one sighed in a rather childish way. “I…i just… everyone keeps telling me i look like her. Act like her. Even roll my eyes like she does. And I know I should be taking it as a compliment. I know it; my mother is a beautiful, graceful woman with perfect mannerism.”

Damian added the next part in a nearly mute voice, and Stephanie had to read her lips to make out what she was saying.

“I don't want to be like her, stephanie. I want to be- I want to be good. Like my father. I want people to look at me and see a kind, empathic person. Not… not mother.”

Stephanie’s heart broke for her pseudo sister. Now all the times Stephanie remembered seeing Damian in front of the mirror, trying to narrow her eyes to hide the green in them made sense to her.  Damian trying to mimic Bruce's real, rare smile only for it to look strained and shaky made her heart clench painfully for the younger. 

“Damian. You are a beautiful girl. from the outside, sure; you’ve inherited the best features of both your talia and bruce- you’ll grow to be a real supermodel.”

As Stephanie talked, her fingers traced Damian's puffy curls, to her eyebrows, to her thick lashes, that fluttered when the blond’s index fingers brushed them. Stephanie lowered her fingers to pat her chubby cheeks. Damian’s eyes didn’t re-open.

“But you’re beautiful from the inside, too. And I'm not talking about Bruce's beauty, nor Talia's. I’m talking about your own beauty.”

Damian’s eyes stayed shut as her eyebrows dug into her face. “I’m not beautiful from the inside. I'm -bad.”

“No.”  Stephanie stated firmly. “Bad people don’t risk their life every night to protect the innocent. Bad people don’t save animals from abusive owners or from starving on the street just because they know no one else will stand up for them. Bad people don’t regret bad things they’ve done in the past and spend everyday in their life trying to make up for that. You are not a bad person, damian wayne.”

If Damian's eyes were open, Stephanie was sure that they’d be rolled at her for that claim. Dick and her have been saying that to her for two years, and she wasn’t anywhere close to believing it.

 But Stephanie was persistent; she’s never had anyone who’d comfort her when she felt trapped by heavy, demanding emotions, silently  begging to be held, loved, cared for. When she saw the tired but angry, adult-like look in Damian's young features, she promised she would not let this little girl end up like her, a girl who was so desperate for recognition that it got her killed. 

(but she did; she would never forget how it felt, hearing about Damian's death, by the hands of her own mother, the woman who was supposed to love her. Hearing about another girl who got killed trying to prove she is something. )

“Damian.” never again, she swore. “You and I are going to find the clothes you would feel the most comfortable with. Screw bruce.”

Damian’s eyes finally opened. “While it's appreciated, brown, going against father’s direct orders for such an unimportant reason would be wasteful. I’d much rather satisfy him now so I could get off defying his underestimating orders on the field. “

Stephanie, despite herself, felt pride blooming in her chest. “you brat.” She ruffled Damian's curls as they exited the dressing room, or at least attempted to before Damian swiftly slapped her hand away. “Maybe you should just find a different angle to look at the situation, dami.”

“What do you mean ,brown?”

“Well, Talia is not the only woman in the world who wears dresses, right? You just need to find someone you consider good, and think about dressing like them- then you’ll feel better about the whole dress thing. Maybe cass? Or your friend, maya? Does she wear dresses?”

Damian seemed to think about it. Then, in flushed cheeks and a scowl, she took a stride to a row of hanged dresses and took out a dress.

A bright, decorated, purple dress. 

Stephanie felt a grin splitting her face as her view became blurry. 

“You brat!”

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

“They’re late.” 

Dick sipped on his champagne, watching with Tim as Bruce sent Stephanie another text before politely joining a bunch of men in a conversation about the last big sale another centerpiece made. 

“I bet you 50 bucks she’s late on purpose,” Tim offered, fingers drumming on his lap subconsciously. 

Dick snorted. “I’m not dumb enough to bet against that, timbo.” he slid off his chair and took out his phone, already ready on camera mode. 

“Hey, what’re you-”

“What I am willing to bet, though, is that they’re going to make one hell of an entrance.”

Like practiced, as the band started playing a jazz version of “devil woman”, stephanie and damian emerged from behind the large, wooden door, sporting the same hairstyle, matching sunglasses that looked cartoonishly large on damian’s face, and similar dresses.

Purple dresses.

Dick caught Stephanie's peace sign on camera before focusing it on Bruce, who locked eyes with Stephanie before shaking his head and face-palming with a tiny, barely noticeable smile. 

“We should totally do that too sometime.” dick told his brother as he pocketed his phone.

“...sure.” Tim muttered, his eyes locked on the blond, admiring her from afar, unaware of how creepy he looked. Dick smirked before walking up to the two girls, high-fiving steph. Now that he got closer, he could see that Stephanie's dress looked much cheaper than Damian's fancy one. Dick couldn’t help but admire Stephanie's independence and refusal to use Bruce's unending resources, choosing to fend for herself, much like he did all these years ago.

“You two look great.” he smiled. Stephanie rolled her eyes, smiling to herself, and winked at damian. “I’m not the one who chose the dresses.” 

Damian puffed proudly. “I suppose we do look great.” she admitted, slightly twirling before realizing what she was doing and stopped.

Neither of them commented on the action, though dick felt like trying his luck:

“Whatcha say, dami? Next time you’ll match with me? You’ll rock a blue dress.”

Damian tsked. “Are you planning to ‘rock’ a blue dress with me?” 

Dick slumped. Stephanie laughed.

[mrs-snape5984]

“As long as I'm with you, I've got a smile on my face…”

“Save your tears, it'll be okay. All I know is you're here with me…” (“Here with me” by D4vd)

Suffering from ME/CFS makes me feel like my whole world is falling apart in front of my eyes. Since I’ve already lost so much joy and so many abilities due to this devastating disease, my continuing loss seems to increase even further.

As some of you might know, do I love to write my own stories about Severus and Julia just as much as I enjoy using my tumblr blog as some kind of journal, whenever I’ve commissioned another artwork. It’s my way of rolling out a red carpet for the artists of Snapedom…it’s my way of honouring them for their talent in their profession. Commissioning those amazing people and letting them make my ideas and fantasies come to life, is my very own manner of coping with my physical and emotional pain.

And now, this coping mechanism seems to crumble into pieces as well as everything else, that I’ve already lost! It hurts me to admit, that my brain fog takes advantage of my capability to create vivid images with my words. My thoughts are getting blurry and chaotic. I’m struggling to find the right words to express my emotions (it’s even worse in my native language German than in English!!)…and this scares me to hell!

My mind was the only place, where I could find some shelter from my infuriating and terrifying reality of losing myself to ME/CFS. What if I forfeit my only - just barely existing- talent now?? How should I flee this nightmare of existence if writing wouldn’t be an option anymore?! How should I express my gratitude towards all those marvellous artists of Snapedom, who are all weaving my emotional comfort blanket with each piece of their art?!?

I don’t want to give up on my writing…and I won’t…even though my pride would probably fade away with each badly written chapter of my fictions…and with each unworthy post on my blog. I must admit, that I’m already acknowledging the loss of quality. 🥺

I found an inspiring poem about the importance of staying resilient, no matter how difficult the hardships of life might become, and I want to share it with you:

"KEEP GOING" (Better known as "DON'T QUIT") by Edgar A. Guest

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, When the road you're trudging seems all uphill, When the funds are low and debts are high, And you want to smile but have to sigh.

When care is pressing you down a bit, Rest, if you must, but DON'T YOU QUIT!

Life is queer with its twists and turns, As everyone of us sometimes learns, And many a failure turns about,

When he might have won if he'd stuck it out, Don't give up though the pace seems slow, You might succeed with another blow.

Often the struggler has given up, When he might captured the victor's cup.

And he learned too late, when the night slipped down, How close he was to the golden crown,

Success is failure turned inside out, The silver tint on clouds of doubt, And you never can tell how close you are, It may be near when it seems afar,

So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit, It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

My dear @mmad-lover, I can’t stress enough how grateful I am for your dedication to this stunning piece of art and believe me, it was worth every single second of waiting! Paula, I was incredibly touched to hear, that my request seemed to be something special, something personal to you. I can assure you, that, indeed, all of my ideas have a profound meaning to me and I’m glad that you’re such an empathetic person, who sensed that particular importance of your art to me. Your devotion to this drawing is palpable in every single detail, every line of your brushes. You created exactly the mood, that I wished for Severus and Julia. It doesn’t matter that the world is burning to the ground around them, they will always have each other’s backs! Just like I’m relying on Severus for more than 21 years now. Thank you for everything, you precious soul! I’m glad that I met you and I hope, we’ll stay in touch. 🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤