#I hope you can see how this makes zero sense too

[astra-galaxie]

I decided I wanted to make one of these! Explanations of my choices can be found below!

Favourite character: Shocker! My favourite character is Diego! Who could have foreseen this coming? I've always loved Diego, and his character development is so well-written! Plus, Pretty Simple was VERY generous when designing him!😏

Liked by everyone but me: This might be a bit of a controversial take, so please don't grab the pitchforks and torches until you hear me out! I don't, nor have I ever hated Elliot; I've just never understood the hype surrounding him. He's just never appealed to me like he does for others, but he's still an interesting character.

Didn't like at first: Asal still isn't high on my list of liked characters, but I like her more than I used to. I had forgotten about the more specific aspects of her character, and when I wrote my Save The World story, I realized she was more complex than I remembered. Mainly how she was hostile towards the Bureau because she thought they were aware of Ripley's involvement with SOMBRA, and after finding out they were unaware, she seemed remorseful for her actions.

Would like to know more about: I feel like there is so much more we could have learned about Arthur. Why did he start the rebellion? Why did he become a writer? How did he manage to escape from the Demon Queen's faithful? How was he captured? So many questions that I want to know the answers to!

Least favourite character: Do I need to say anything about this one? No, seriously, do I? Because I feel like it's pretty obvious why I would hate him, given his LONG list of dirty deeds!

Like the design, dislike the character: While I might not like Morgana, I LOVE her design! Her dress is so pretty, and her hair and make suit her aesthetic! Plus, her accessories are wicked! (See what I did there?😉)

Like the character, dislike the design: Abigail is such a cool and unique character, but I wish her design was better. It just seems so simple and plain... PS could have at least given her some accessories or something instead of just a basic tank top! Someone give this ghost a makeover!

Similar personality: I connect with Evie on a spiritual level. I, too, enjoy hiding away from the real world and doing something I love. Also, I am very shy and quiet, so much so that I am constantly accidentally sneaking up on people!

Fav ship: Maddie and Charlie's love story is so good! It's the perfect friends-to-lovers story, and watching them get together made me so happy!

Least fave ship: Again, do I need to say anything? These two have ZERO chemistry beyond friendship, and their sudden "rekindled" romance made no sense. Gwen and Hope deserved to get together, and I stand by that fact!

Would befriend IRL: Luke reminds me of some of my current and old IRL friends. I think he and I would get along! I've already said that I would like to be his friend, which hasn't changed.

Would never befriend IRL: And because I had to state my dislike of Fabian somehow, this is where I'm doing it! I HATE this guy (but not as much as Horatio) and would NEVER be his friend! I'd rather drive a stake through my heart than be his friend! Whenever he came on the screen while playing S7, I would glare at him...

And that's everything! Can you tell which seasons are my favourite?😉

Again, these are just my personal opinions, so please do not gather the mob! People are allowed to like or dislike whichever characters they choose, so please be respectful of mine.✨

[elliethefroggy]

Buck doesn’t let his jealousy get the better of him, doesn’t body check Eddie at the basket ball match, Tommy doesn’t go over to his apartment, there is no kiss, Tommy does not ask Buck out on a date.

What happens instead is this:

Tommy becomes an honorary 118 member, starts hanging out more and more with everyone from 118. By extension, Tommy starts spending more and more time around Buck. Tommy finds it very inconvenient when he starts crushing on a supposedly straight Buck (Tommy tries to resist but that resistance crumbles every time Buck smiles at him).

Queue Tommy secretly pining over Buck, and sighing longingly whenever he catches a glimpse of Buck.

Now in my mind, Tommy and Chimney remained pretty close after Tommy left, close enough for Tommy to drop everything the moment Chim calls to steal a helicopter. Chim also undoubtebly knows about Tommy’s sexuality.

This means that Chim is witness to Tommy’s pathetic pining. This also means that Chim is there to catch Tommy spending far too much time looking longingly at Buck’s various assets.

“Buck’s going to remain straight no matter how long you stare at his ass,” Chim reminds Tommy. This is not the first time Chim has had to remind Tommy of this.

Tommy sighs despondently, “I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t admire the view.”

“This wouldn’t be nearly as difficult if Evan didn’t have both gorgeous looks and gorgeous personality,” Tommy says one night at a bar. Being a good friend, Chim has started taking Tommy out whenever Buck’s straightness becomes too much for Tommy to bear.

“He’s just so adorable,” Tommy continues.

“I know, buddy,” Chim says, patting Tommy on the back (Chim has also had to pat Tommy on the back a lot as of late).

“Are we sure Evan’s straight?” Tommy asks after the first beer.

Chim, with absolute certainty, says “Yes, now get over yourself, you sad, sad man.” And then Chim buys Tommy another beer because he’s a good friend.

And because Chim is such an amazing friend, Chim can’t help but pay attention whenever Buck and Tommy interact, mostly to make sure Tommy doesn’t make too much of a fool of himself.

Which means he’s also watching Buck, and he’s watching Buck watch Tommy.

And that’s when the doubt creeps in.

Chim’s known Buck for a few years now, has seen what Buck is like around women he’s attracted to, knows what Buck’s pining face looks like.

And he’s seeing that face now whenever Buck looks over at Tommy.

At first Chim doesn’t believe his eyes, figuring that listening to Tommy compliment every single aspect of Buck from his eyelashes to his laugh has corrupted Chim’s brain, making Chim see things that aren’t there.

Because Buck’s straight.

Right?

The more Chim watches, the less he’s sure. Because there’s Buck being somehow both endearingly awkward and seamlessly smooth around Tommy. There’s Buck spending way to long gazing into Tommy’s eyes, and staring at Tommy whenever Tommy’s not looking. There’s Buck zeroing in on Tommy every time Tommy enters the room; There’s Buck holding onto every word coming out Tommy’s mouth. There’s Buck laughing at every one of Tommy’s jokes (and, sure, Tommy’s a funny guy with a real dry sense of humour, but he’s not that funny).

If Chimney didn’t know any better, he would say that Tommy’s not the only one who’s got a crush.

All signs are pointing to Buck wanting to hold Tommy’s hand, go on romantic walks along the beach with Tommy, as well as do more than PG13 things to Tommy.

Does Tommy actually stand a chance?

Chim doesn’t want to get Tommy’s hopes up straight away. He needs to make sure that his hunch is correct. He needs to gather more data.

So Chim starts inviting Buck and Tommy everywhere he can think of, and then pretends to take a really long time in the bathroom so that Buck and Tommy can have some alone time while Chim is hiding behind a bush or a potted plant depending on the location, spying on them.

Tommy, because he’s a very observant person, notices Chim in the bush with binoculars pointed at where Tommy and Buck are seated, and confronts Chimney after Buck has gone home.

And Chim can’t keep a secret for shit, so of course he tells Tommy about his doubtS even though he really doesn't want to disappoint Tommy if it turns out that his hunch is wrong.

“I’ll keep investigating,” Chimney says, once again patting Tommy on the back, watching hope bloom on Tommy’s face.

Chim continues inviting Tommy and Buck to hang out, sometimes inviting others as well to avoid suspicion (Buck isn’t suspicious at all, but Hen has start narrowing her eyes at Chimney).

Tommy calls it torture, Chim call it science. Oblivious Buck is just concerned about the amount of time Chim spends in the bathroom. He asks Chimney if Chim’s having any any bowel problems. Chimney insists he doesn’t, but Buck figures Chim’s either putting on a brave face or is too embarrassed. Buck doesn’t bring it up again, but he does leaves some pamplets regarding bowel problems and their causes in Chim’s locker as well as sends Chim links to various medical websites.

Chim is mortified. Tommy finds it hilarious. Chim decides to attempt a different approach.

To try and throw Hen off the sent and to further advance his research, he gets Karen to drag them all to a gay bar to see how Buck reacts around other queer men (Karen is very amiable once Chim tells her of his suspicions; she always enjoys gossip).

Chim and Karen sit opposite Tommy and Buck, the better to observe them. Eddie, poor confused Eddie had to be discretely elbowed aside when he tried to sit next to Buck, and has been dragged next to Karen, supposedly so that Karen can arrange a play-date between Christoper, Denny and Mara. Though Karen is paying much more attention to Buck’s every micro-expressions than any word coming out of Eddie’s mouth.

Unfortunately, the gay club is a bust because Buck’s too busy learning about monster trucks from Tommy to pay attention to any other attractive man at in the bar. It’s hard to tell if Buck’s attention is due to an attraction to Tommy or if he’s just really interested in soaking up new information in that spongy brain of his.

Chim starts leaving queer memoirs scattered around the fire station (Karen gives excellent book recommendations).

Chim starts commenting on attractive men they see on the tele when it’s a particularly slow day at the station. He does this to such an extent that some of the members of B shift are wondering if Chim’s the one with a case of latent bisexuality. That thought is strengthened in their minds when Chimney starts bringing some those magazines with the romance quizzes in them: ‘Best guy for you’; ‘Your ideal guy’; ‘What your celebrity crushes say about your love life’; ‘Take this quiz to reveal your partner’s star sign’; etc.

Then Chim very loudly goes on about how gay and single Tommy is whenever Buck is in earshot (and now some of B shift think Chim’s planning on leaving Maddie for Tommy).

The first time Chim brings up how gay and single Tommy is, Tommy takes him aside to ask him what the hell that was about.

Chim says in response, “Listen, if Buck isn’t 100% straight, he needs to be aware that you’re on the market so that he doesn’t go check out all the other male fish in the sea.”

Buck doesn’t make a big deal out of Tommy being gay, acts his usual self. Though he does manage to slip into conversation that he’s an ally. And when Buck does that, Tommy feel his hope to one day hold Buck’s hand during a romantic sunset walk along the beach shrivels up a little inside him. Chim gives Tommy yet another commiserating pat on the back, and takes Tommy to a bar later that night so that Tommy can drink his problems away.

Meanwhile, Buck knows that Tommy being gay isn’t a big deal, but for some reason Buck can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s not like he’s ever had a problem with anyone’s sexuality before, so what is it about Tommy?

And representation really does matter. Here Buck is, being confronted with a Man, a big, muscular man like himself, who enjoys going to the gym like himself, who’s in a similar profession to him. And this man is gay.

And that’s going to cause something in his mind to shift. Maybe he doesn’t notice that shift at first, maybe it’s only subconsciously.

Maybe he’s going to start picking up a few of those memoirs that Chim’s been leaving around; Buck’s always been fond of non-fiction after all.

Maybe he’s going to ask Hen and Karen about their experiences figuring out their sexuality, their coming out stories (during this conversation, Karen will be staring intently at Buck, looking for any signs of the queer thoughts Buck may or may not be having).

(Chim is very happy with this because pointedly asking Hen and Karen about their queer experience was next on his game plan.)

Buck doesn’t ask Tommy about his sexuality though, not yet at least. Buck can’t seem to bring himself to ask Tommy. Though he doesn’t know why.

Then Buck does as Buck does best and goes on a research binge about all the different sexualities, but more specifically bisexuality (I imagine there is at least one sexuality quiz during that research binge).

And, at the end of that research binge, the results are conclusive. Buck is bisexual. Maybe he says that out loud in his empty apartment “I am bisexual” and it feels right and it feels so very exciting.

Once he realises that he’s bisexual, a lot of things start making sense. Including Tommy’s ass. Tommy’s very fine ass that Buck can’t help but stare at. And Tommy’s eyes. And Tommy’s hands as well. And Tommy’s laugh; And definitely Tommy’s smile. Basically all of Tommy.

Buck keeps his newly discovered sexuality to himself for a bit, wanting some time to himself to live in this new reality of his, basking in this new part of himself.

Also so that he can spend a few days staring at attractive guys without any knowing looks from his loved ones.

Turns out he spends most of those few days staring at Tommy which, again, makes sense.

Because he is such an open book, it doesn’t take Buck long to come out.

He decides to tell everyone at the next get-together. They’re all outside, having another barbecue at Bobby’s and Athena’s. Tommy is also present for this.

Everyone is of course supportive and happy for Buck. Chim is forcing himself to stay still, even though he really wants to jump up and down, high-five Karen, high-five Tommy, and then shove Tommy in Buck’s lap.

Meanwhile, Tommy is in his chair, having a deer-in-the headlights moment, staring up at Buck, wide-eyed, slightly pale, a forkful of potato salad halfway to his mouth. Tommy is so frozen that Chim has to nudge him so that his fork continues its journey to his mouth.

Tommy chews on the potatoes mechanically, no longer paying attention to the delicious taste that he’d been previously enjoying, too busy trying to act normal and trying to rein in his growing hope. By Chim’s side-eyes, Tommy isn’t doing a great job.

As the night goes on, Tommy forces himself to not approach Buck no matter how much he wants to, mostly because has forgotten how to act like a normal human being.

But then Buck is right there, in front of him.

“Hey,” Buck says.

“Hi,” Tommy replies. So far so good.

Buck is looking at him, and Tommy is trying to remember what he’s meant to do with his hands.

“Congratulations,” Tommy forces out because congratulations are definitely in order, “How are you feeling?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“Good,” Buck says in that sincere way that comes so naturally to him.

“Yeah?

“Yeah, great. I feel, I don’t know, lighter I guess. I mean, I’m still me, but now I know why I spend so much time staring at men’s asses.”

Tommy snorts, “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

There’s a pause. Buck’s staring at Tommy, and Tommy’s staring at Buck, and neither want to look away.

“Hey,” Buck finally says, “tell me if I’m completely off base, but there’s this little Italian restaurant I’ve been meaning to try, and I was wondering if you’d want to come with me.” Buck stops, swallows. Tommy watches his adam’s apple move. Buck continues “Like, as a date.”

Tommy forces his eyes back up away from Buck’s neck.

“A date?” Tommy repeats, the hope inside him soaring.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, smiling, not sure if he can believe what he’s hearing.

“Okay,” Buck says, smiling back. It’s a smile so soft that Tommy wants to trace it with his fingers, but they’re definitely not there yet and Tommy’s trying to act normal.

“Okay,” Buck repeats a little breathlessly, that soft smile still in place.

(During this whole interaction, Chimney is hiding in a bush, binoculars in hand. Karen is at his side, asking him what they’re saying.

“I can’t read lips!” Chim says, though he tries anyway with mixed results.

But then, Hen comes along and puts a stop to it, dragging Chim and Karen out of the bush and confiscating Chim’s binoculars.)

[vamptarot]

Ten Things That Are F### Cool About You | PAC

pile one pile two pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose which picture you are most drawn to or close your eyes, breath and read the one your eyes land on! ᡣ𐭩

— ⭑.ᐟ today I saw a pick a card that not only pissed me off but also disgusted me due to how mean the reader was in every single pile. I checked. their egoistic approach annoyed me. instead of spreading hate, I wanted to remind you why you are an awesome person. not proof read.

pile one : - cold drink !

𐙚 : the high priestess, eight of wands, nine of wands reversed, death

bottom of the deck: five of wands

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. You always research about a topic before talking about it! I think this is very cool because a lot of people spread misinformation without even knowing it and that’s why fake fun facts exist. You are not like that though! You feel a sense of responsibility and thirst for knowledge, which in itself makes you a reliable person. - and source! -

2. You protect those who cannot stand up for themselves and I think that is very cool! Usually, you might have a hard time standing up for yourself but if it’s someone more vulnerable than you then you will give your all. You will raise your voice, yell, make valid arguments and even fight if necessary. - This differs person to person but the imaginary I am getting is protecting children, animals, women and young teens (from creeps to be exact) -

3. You work on yourself and enter new beginnings even if it’s scary at times, it can be hard and scary but that doesn’t make you back off from actually trying your best to become someone that you can be proud of. There is always a sense of hope within you that is very admirable.

4. You know how to keep privacy! A lot of people don’t, and don’t value it as much as they should. Having a healthy boundary with privacy is a privilege not many realise they have.. also, if you happen to share an intimate moment with someone you don’t run your mouth but rather treasure it as a memory as a form of respect.

5. Some people in this pile have temper issues, obviously, don’t take it if that doesn’t apply to you but I am seeing that for those of you who can resonate with that you are doing a really good job keeping it under control. You are not a hot headed person.

6. You are very experimental with looks! I do think this makes you a very beautiful person, because there are several things that suit you and look cool on you. If you like taking pictures I hope you know that you look beautiful and gorgeous in each one of them, one day you will look back at them with a smile even if you didn’t like that one thing because at least you gave it a try.

7. Zero judgment detected in your soul. Seriously, you could be the sort of person that never freaks out at people’s ‘hear me out’s but rather just go ‘yep, I get why you are into that’ even though you have no attraction to whatever character or person they said. You get their point, it’s just not one that you will make.

8. My fashion babies in this pile are slaying each and every time! You could take dressing fashionable in a seasonal manner mildly seriously. You don’t expect everyone to do it, but it’s most definitely something you take a lot of joy in. It’s really cool, your style is a 10/10. - Yes, even if you change it up often. -

9. Even if you are anxious you can do things so incredibly well. You remind me of a video I once saw of a girl with anxiety making a phone call, her hands were shaking uncontrollably the whole time but she didn’t stop being polite and kind. I think that’s you. Even in moments of being scared, you are kind to people.

10. You have such a beautiful voice. I mean your singing voice, but if you are not confident in that this could of course mean your regular speaking voice too. There is something comforting and yet bittersweet about your voice. It makes people feel home at times when they are sad.

— ✮⋆˙ die with a smile - bruno mars & lady gaga , ‘good luck babe’, 2003 , enha photoshoots , guitar injuries (from the string breaking) , white dahlias , glitter videos (those 2021 ones) , ‘good luck, charlie!’ , wavy hair , not well known ethnicity , taurus , capricorn , pisces

that’s all my beautiful pile one! I do think you happen to be very shy, but I do hope that you know that you genuinely have so much love to offer. there is much more to you than what you show the world, but I think you already know that. thank you for reading

paid readings

pile two : - peace sign ! ✌🏻

𐙚 : page of pentacles, eight of swords reversed, queen of wands, five of pentacles reversed, page of cups reversed, the star reversed

bottom of the deck: judgement

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. YOU THINK YOU ARE SO COOL AND MYSTERIOUS BUT YOUR HEART IS FULL OF LOVE AND KINDNESS 🫵🏻 YOU TREASURE YOUR LOVED ONES AND WOULD RATHER SACRIFICE YOURSELF THAN TO EVER SEE THEM SUFFER !!YOU ARE SENSITIVE AND LOVABLE !!!!!!!!!

2. After all that you have went through you are still here and you are still standing. All that happened but rather than it destroying you completely or bringing you down you allowed yourself to heal and I am very proud of you for that.

3. Your judgement of people are very great! Of course if you don’t like someone of have mean thoughts of them you will keep it to yourself in order to not upset anyone, but you are still really good at telling their personality by their behaviour. Other people might not know but you do.

4. You are a secret little romantic! I bet it makes you shy to express your emotions outward and so freely. Truth to be told, you want to experience so much romantic things and wish to think of them without experiencing negative emotions. This makes you cool because even though you have a hard time with it, you know it’s a part of you and accept it.

5. You are so kind to animals, take care of them and most people reading this pile have a pet too. I think animals are just naturally drawn to you regardless of what they are. - as in pet, stray or wild animal. - It’s like they know they can be safe with you.

6. ‘You can slap a bitch if you need to’. Literally, that’s what I heard.. and I think most people here take pride in it too right? Just make sure to not get into unnecessary fights. It’s not what makes you cool though. It’s that you keep to your word. If you say you are gonna do it, you really will.

7. A lot of you find comfort in the stars and moon. In an aesthetic sense, but also there is a deep sense of appreciation for them that not many people have. They just put you in awe. If you are into astrology you have such a deep and profound understanding of it. One that not many people have.

8. Honestly, your view of life is sort of clouded and not completely “whole” but that’s alright. Exactly because day by day you do your best to learn and never turn an opportunity to see life from a wider perspective down, even if you might have done this in the past.

9. You are sooo talented, and you don’t even realise that. You are amazing in creating things; anything that is physical. This is especially true if you like jewellery, as I think designing or just making your own craft is something that you would/could enjoy doing if you put your own unique twist into it. It’s just something that makes you feel alive.

10. You are so confident! Even if you might not always feel like it, on the outside you always appear confident and aware of your surroundings. Someone composed who wants to present themselves in the best way possible. - You probably pay a lot of attention to your posture. -

— ✮⋆˙ ‘I don’t even wanna do this anymore’ , homework from 1 am ‘til 4am , 9 to 5 , jean purses ? , ditto - new jeans , a bent photocard (of whoever) , 7 - JK , stars , something about the four seasons ? , fave colour = red , ‘letta’ , cappuccino & frappuchino , friendly banter , 111 , 1212 , 2011 , sagittarius , aries , leo

i am sorry for yelling at you at the first point my pile 2 but some younger people in this pile - esp teenagers - like to put on a mean girl persona when that’s not them at all. what’s the point of that? you can’t please people with someone you are not. I sincerely wish that’s something you will remember my sweethearts. thank you for reading

paid readings

pile three : - megaphone !

𐙚 : three of wands, six of swords, knight of pentacles, justice, king of swords, the lovers

bottom of the deck: five of pentacles reversed

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. You know when to walk away from a situation, which is unironically awesome. Like sure this could be considered a negative trait but you aren’t toxic with it. You just simply know your worth.

2. You have a person you are in love with for several years now right? At least, most people in this pile do. You have unwavering loyalty and love in your heart that no one can take away from you, no matter what. I think that’s very cool.

3. You treat children really well! Which should be a given, but many people are way more mean and cruel hearted than what children should deserve. After all, they are humans too and fragile ones at that. You are very responsible and a safe space for them. I wholeheartedly believe that’s cool.

4. When you call people out, you do so with evidence. I do like that a lot, you don’t just accuse people but rather keep collected and calm even if you are angry or despise the situation that you were put into.

5. Did you ever take a look at your side profile? You are quite ethereal, you have such an unique beauty to you. I do also believe that you look beautiful in your home country’s traditional clothing style:

6. You are stubborn, but not in a sense of annoying people or being selfishly caught up in your desires. This is a stubbornness that is found in people with leader like qualities, that people can rely on. You are stubborn in a sense of wanting to create a better future for yourself and those around you who you deem to deserve it. - bc let’s face it, some humans suck. -

7. I am sorry if this sounds weird, but your hand is always occupied with something. You are a very busy person, even if you might not believe so. You gotta do this, and you gotta do that. You have many interests, hobbies and responsibilities too. Yet you manage to juggle them so well, it’s hard to guess when you are stressed out.

8. Whenever you are around you light up people’s day and mood. You are such a sunshine child, people love to have you around. Even if you believe that’s not the case, people do appreciate you a lot more than you realise.

9. If you have a love for photography I hope that you know that you have a beautiful talent. You are amazing at taking pictures, making them pretty and seeing the beauty in every single little thing even if other people might not be able to do so.

10. You are really good with finances and saving up despite the anxiety it causes you. Give yourself a pat on the back because that is not something many people are able to truly say about themselves. Many people in this pile were raised in a way to appreciate money but not let it consume you, which I think you nailed pretty good!

— ✮⋆˙ somewhere over the rainbow - israel kamakawiwo’ole , early 00s & 10s hawaii , crying at night , daydreaming for hours , ‘thank goodness ‘ , my little pony , new hyper fixation , heat , ten to five , hair being washed by someone else , flamingos , pimples ? , papaya - sorry, ik gross to mention right after , pink skincare bottles , 555 , juliet , lucifer , 10th house

my dearest little lamb your energy was the calmest, sweetest and most welcoming out of all the piles. I am truly happy that you decided to read my pac / participate in it. it was truly a pleasant experience to channel for you 🫶🏻 thank you for reading

paid readings

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[dreamchasernina]

The live action writers hate Aang

I have given myself a lot of time to think about the live action, and reached the conclusion that the writers hate Aang. I dare you to read read this and tell me I'm wrong.

Let me start this by asking you a question? What's the most badass scene Aang has in the first season of the OG show? No matter what you answer is, I know for sure, that scene doesn't exist in the live action. Aang does absolutely nothing to prove the audience he is the right person to be the Avatar, he learns absolutely nothing throughout the show, he doesn't need to look into himself and change his way of thinking. Nothing. Most of the fundamental lessons Aang learns throughout the first season are gone.

The first mistake Aang does in the OG is staying at Kyoshi island too long, letting the attention go to his head, getting too comfortable. He realises he brought destruction to the island and tries to fix his mistakes by jumping onto the Unagi to help the village. That's how he learned the responsibly he holds as the Avatar and finds a unique way to help the village. Well that doesn't exist in the LA. Instead, Kyoshi takes over Aang's body to fight the whole fire nation for him. Aang, himself, does literally nothing.

The spirit world. In the OG show Aang is forced to face his Avatar duty for the first time by trying to save the village that's beeing attacked by Hei Bai. This is his first test as the Avatar and he fails. Not only that, he loses his friend. So Aang has to figure out himself how to get Sokka back from Hei Bai. He figures out who her bai is, himself, understands why Hei Bai is angry and gives him hope, the way Katara gave him hope. So we see that even though Aang failed at first, he kept trying and was smart and compassionate enough to realise what the problem is and solve it. This does not exist in the LA. Aang sees Hei bai in the spirit world, within a second realises who he is and just gives him the Acorn, without having to face him at all!

Another reason I'm convinced the writers hate Aang is the way all the avatars + Bumi treat Aang. Everyone is mad at him for disappearing for 100 years. And look, I get that, you can be mad at him if he ran away from his duties...but he never did! He went to clear his head on Appa and got caught in the storm. And if he hadn't run away he'd be dead, so why are you all so mad at him?! Bumi being mad at Aang could make sense, because in the OG show Aang did spend a significant amount on time of goofing around before he finds out about the comet. But here, it makes no sense! Bumi is mad for no reason. As soon as Aang got out go the ice he took his duty seriously, so please, make it make sense! And the show just glosses over the fact that if Aang hadn't run away he would be dead with the rest of the air benders. Instead of letting Aang feel guilty himself, which he does in the OG show, they just get these characters to hate on him, because they're incapable of making their characters have any emotional depth.

Aang doesn't learn water bending. At all. And there is no logical reason for that. I guess they thought it wasn't that important but please explain to me how you want to make Aang more serious and focused on the Avatar duties but not make him learn water bending? The literal next step Aang has to take to becoming the Avatar?? That is the only clear goal Aang has from the second episode of the show - to find a master and learn waterbending! Make it make sense!

Taking away Aang's talk with Koh. So I assume if most people didn't answer my question above with the Koi fish, they probably said Aang's journey into the spirit world and his meeting with Koh. In the OG show, Aang has to find a way to figure out how to save the water tribe. He does so by going into the spirit world and talking to Koh the face stealer. So Aang had to talk to Koh showing zero emotions so he doesn't have his face stolen. That scene is so creepy and so badass and shows that Aang is really capable, even though he is a kid, he is facing the creepy ass spirit and is doing an excellent job. So when Aang finds out who the moon and the ocean spirits are, it feels deserved, it feels like an accomplishment. In the live action he doesn't have to show zero emotions because Koh is not stealing faces, he's just stealing random people for whatever reason. Koh tells him exactly what to do, bring me a MacGuffin so I can release your friends, Aang just goes to see Roku, no problem, no obstacles to overcome, brings the Macguffin to Koh and he just releases his friends. Wow, really shows us how resourceful Aang is by making him...get an object and give it back to Koh...

And the very last point that I absolutely hated in the show. When Aang goes into the Avatar state and becomes the giant koi fish and wipes everyone out, the live action show goes out of its way to emphasise that that is not Aang in there. Aang is gone. The Koi fish is just rage. and that's that. Taking away ANY agency Aang ever had. Look, I know in the OG show Aang is not in control of the Avatar state either, but we know that's still Aang in there, that's his power he's showcasing. He might not be in control but that's him doing it all, being all powerful. But in the live action, they tell us Aang is gone, that's just his body the spirit is using. Plus Aang does no watebending himself, no gestures like the original where you can see aang in the sphere water bending, controlling the giant Koi fish, showing us how far he's come as a water bender. But in the LA he's just in the sphere...doing nothing because he never learned water bending so of course that's not him doing all this cool shit.

I am so angry over all of this. This is you MAIN PROTAGONIST. and you made him nothing but a vessel to progress the plot. You gave him no character, no growth, no struggles, no power! So no, you cannot convince me, at this point, that the writers of the live action don't hate Aang. Probably as much as they hate Katara.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [27] - Midnight

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Some arguments have more tension than others.

Word Count: 2500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship (I'm serious, they have issues), mentions of sex and fighting. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well then.

As it turned out, your plan to make your cousin look weak was working.

The first hit was an absolute success, and Ian was already crumbling. It was lucky for you that your father wasn’t getting involved and was giving him a chance to prove himself after the first attack to the shipment, because Ian was acting exactly the way you thought he would act.

Good.

It was going to make things much easier.

Bucky had dropped by to the apartment in the middle of the day to go take a shower which was quite surprising but judging by the blood stains on his shirt, it was needed. You were sitting comfortably on the couch, resting your feet on the coffee table with a book in your lap when he came into the living room and made a beeline to you to fling himself on the couch as well, pushing your book away to put his head in your lap. You pulled your brows together, tilting your head.

“Can I help you?”

If you didn’t know it better, you would’ve thought he was pouting.

“I need like five minutes to rest my eyes,” he murmured with his eyes closed. “How someone can be so goddamn stubborn, I’ll never understand.”

“Ah,” you said. “This can only be about—”

“Becca.”

You nodded your head. “What happened?”

“Mom wants to meet her girlfriend and Becca is acting like that’s a natural disaster.”

“Hurricane Winnifred,” you muttered and Bucky opened his eyes to look up at you, but then closed them again when you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair to play with it.

“Can you tell her she’s being nonsense?”

“I don’t think she’s being nonsense,” you told him. “Have you met your mother?”

“She’ll be nice.”

“Like fuck she will.”

“She’s nice to you.”

“Because she knows I won’t be nice if she won’t,” you told him. “Leila on the other hand…she’s way too polite.”

Bucky hummed and looked up at you again.

“Is Becca serious about her?”

“Oh absolutely,” you said. “Picket fence house and all that nonsense.”

“With a civilian,” Bucky mumbled. “That’s going to be fun.”

“Becca would never get with someone in the business, you know that.”

“Oh I know that, but I don’t think my parents do,” Bucky said. “They still hope it will happen.”

“Winnifred and my aunt would get along well,” you muttered. “Both boy moms.”

“So are a lot of people.”

“No there’s a difference between a boy mom and a boy mom.”

“You make zero sense, Charm.”

You shrugged your shoulders, still playing with his hair but his phone buzzed, making him let out a groan.

“No!”

“You’ll be fine,” you said and he sat up with a sigh, his eyes darting over the lines before he chuckled.

“Jesus, he really is the worst heir ever.”

“Ian?”

“Guess where he’s routing the next shipment.”

You frowned. “Where?”

“West side second dock.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Has your father never taught him anything, seriously?” he asked and you covered your mouth.

“West side second dock, Jesus Christ…”

“I’d better have a decoy shipment then,” Bucky murmured. “Just in case.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” you said. “The cops will follow that shipment and bust it with any other shipment that day.”

“I’ll talk to my guys in the force, let’s see how that plays out.”

“Both us and the cops winning,” you mused. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“They’re not winning, it’s just going to be their small victory so that they’ll shut up for a while,” Bucky said as he stood up. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Sure,” you said as he kissed the top of your head. “I’ll meet my dad but I’ll be home around dinner time.”

“Have fun,” he said and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a sigh.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

                                                    *

Your lunch with your father was pretty interesting, because you knew he was trying his hardest not to let you know about the so-called attack, but he was way too tense for you to think everything was going well. You took a look at the bodyguards in the restaurant, then sipped your rosé, leaning back.

“So,” you said. “How is everything with the business?”

He shot you a look.

“You took longer than I thought you would,” he commented and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m just making small talk—”

“Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine,” you said. “I heard about the attack.”

“Of course you did,” he muttered more to himself, then sipped his drink. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

You tried to control your expression.

“I know,” you said. “Doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Do we know who’s behind the attack?”

“Not yet,” he said. “We’re searching for it though.”

Tension churned at your stomach but you nodded your head calmly.

“What shipment was it?” you asked. “You normally have multiple men around the perimeter, but Bucky said it looked like a sneak attack. How did they get past your people? Did they kill them?”

Your father licked his lips and heaved a sigh.

“Ian was responsible of that shipment,” he said, making you arch a brow. “He must’ve—Y/N.”

“What?” you asked innocently and he licked his lips.

“He will stumble a bit, everyone does when they first start taking responsibilities.”

You hummed.

“Funny,” you said. “I didn’t notice that with Bucky. Or Sam. Or Steve.”

“Ian is a bit more…enthusiastic to prove himself than they were, perhaps.”

You tried not to grimace at the blatant lie and took another sip so that you could control your expression.

“I’ve been told he’s fixing the situation,” your father said. “He’s much more angry at the situation than you or me.”

“But are you angry?”

“It happened in my territory, and it was my shipment, my business that they attacked,” your father said even though his voice was calm. “Of course I am angry.”

Guilt burned at your stomach but you knew you couldn’t let it affect you; what you and Bucky had done was necessary.

It wasn’t just your father’s business, it was going to be yours one day and you had to prove that Ian was a terrible option.

For the business, and the city.

One of the bodyguards came closer to mutter something to his ear and he nodded, then wiped at his mouth.

“Duty calls,” he said and you took another sip of your wine, then put the glass on the table.

“Alright.”

“Want me to drop you off?”

“No need, my driver is here,” you said as you both walked out of the restaurant. He hugged you and you kissed him on the cheek.

“Be careful.”

“Always am,” he said and one of the bodyguards opened the door for you, but before you got in, you heard your father’s voice again.

“Y/N.”

You turned around to look at him better. “Yeah?”

“How would you prevent it?” he asked. “If it was your shipment?”

A smug grin threatened to pull at your lips but you bit inside your cheek, then heaved a sigh.

“Twenty men around the perimeter,” you said. “Additional ten in every half mile, three hour shifts in rotation. Couple of cops under our pay in the outer skirts, preferably by the bridge and at least three people watching the street footage so that we would know the license plates of every car that gets a bit too close for future reference.”

He blinked a couple of times, the impressed expression on his face impossible to miss and you felt your stomach do a happy flip, then shrugged your shoulder, forcing yourself to focus.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you told him. “I’m not your heir, am I?”

With that, you got in the car and the bodyguard closed the door, the driver starting the car immediately. You grinned to yourself and leaned back in the seat as the car started moving through the street smoothly and you closed your eyes.

“Yet,” you corrected yourself. “I’m not your heir yet.”

                                            *

Bucky had texted you, saying he would miss dinner because of a meeting taking long so you had ordered some takeout, curled up on the couch with Alpine in your lap. Towards midnight he still hadn’t come home so you texted him only for him to text back the meeting was still going on, and you picked a show to bingewatch in the meantime.

For some reason you liked it when Bucky was beside you on the bed when you went to sleep.

You were so focused on the episode that you hadn’t even noticed when your phone buzzed, so when you saw the text notification from Ian, you frowned slightly.

You and Ian didn’t really text each other.

You touched the notification and sat up straighter much to Alpine’s meow of protest the moment you saw the picture of Bucky and Anna by the docks. Bucky was leaning back against the car with Anna right beside him, laughing at what you could only assume something he said.

From: Ian

Ouch. Didn’t last long huh?

Fury spread through you so fast that it made your head spin and you stood up from the couch, Alpine jumping to the floor as well. Your jaw clenched as you zoomed into the picture, then ran a hand over your face.

Of course.

The so called meeting was just a fucking excuse.

You didn’t even know why you were getting so angry, after all this whole thing was just a business deal but that was the thing; you two had a deal. That was his only request going into this marriage, that you two wouldn’t see anyone else behind each other’s back but there he was, breaking the same rule he had implemented. A mob boss not being faithful wasn’t supposed to be a surprise; you had grown up seeing it over and over again, Bucky’s own father included but this?

This was disrespect, and the fact that Ian was the one telling you about it made it so much worse.

You tried to see through the fury pounding in your head, tossed the phone aside and dug your fingernails into your palms, gritting your teeth.

That motherfucker.

How dare he?

By the time the front door opened, you had been pacing in the living room for the last half an hour, still lost in your own anger but Bucky’s voice made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Honey I’m home,” he joked as he walked in and you narrowed your eyes at him, making him tilt his head.

“What happened?”

Even if anger was radiating off of you and you knew that he could tell, you managed to smile but you had a feeling it was more of a snarl.

“How was the meeting?” you asked, your voice eerily calm and he licked his lips.

“It was fine?” he said like a question. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m about to be shot?”

You walked to the couch to grab your phone, then found the pic, your hands nearly shaking as you tossed him the phone with more force than necessary. His gaze fell on the screen before he looked at you again.

“You put people on my tail?”

“You fucking asshole!” you lunged at him but he had the same training as you had – probably heavier considering the cage fight- because he caught you basically in mid-air and twisted your arm, then pushed you before you could grab him.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “You know what the psychiatrist said about open communication, let’s talk about this.”

“You’re going behind my back?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, it was a business—”

“Bullshit!”

“A business meeting,” he said as you took off your earrings to toss them aside, making him pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Charm baby, let’s not.”

“Oh no, let’s,” you said as you jumped over the coffee table but he caught your leg before you could reach him and threw you easily to the corner of the room. You landed on your feet just as easily but the vase by the corner fell off its stand to smash into pieces. Bucky’s bodyguards by the hallway must’ve heard the noise because the door slammed open, Hannah and Paul walking inside with their guns raised.

“Mr. Barnes?”

“Leave,” Bucky ordered, rolling his shoulders back as you gritted your teeth and pulled the pocket knife out of your waistband, flipping it open.

“…Sir?”

“Everything is alright, me and my wife are just having a small disagreement.”

“Mr. Barnes, are you—”

“She’s not going to do anything to me Paul but I can’t guarantee the same thing for you,” Bucky said. “Leave, close the door behind you.”   

Hannah and Paul lowered their guns, exchanging glances.

“Leave!” you snapped and they both rushed out of the door, closing it behind them in a hurry. Bucky gave you a smirk and opened his arms as if inviting you.

“It was a business meeting, princess.”

“In the middle of the night?” you asked as you stepped closer to him, both of you circling each other. “By the water? Are all your meetings that romantic?”

“We had to go check the shipment’s security because I don’t want to raise any alarms when Ian’s shipment gets busted—”

“Do you seriously think I’m that much of a gullible idiot?”

“Nah, I think you’re just jealous. It’s adorable, really.”

“I’m not fucking jealous!” you exclaimed as you lunged at him again, this time wrapping your legs around his neck to slam him to the ground even if he managed to knock the blade off your hand in the meantime. As soon as you two hit the ground, he caught your leg and flipped you two over, his hand shooting up to grab you by the neck, not putting any pressure but still strong.

Oh—

Oh fuck, this wasn’t supposed to make your heartbeat faster.

The only sound in the room was both of you breathing hard while you glared at each other for a moment, desire roaring through your veins, making your head spin.

Then his lips crashed into yours.

All your senses were too full of him for you to even think it wasn’t the best idea and to be completely honest, you couldn’t give two fucks whether it was a good idea or not, especially not when he was kissing you like this. You had no idea when you two had started ripping each other’s clothes but it was only when you felt his fingertips brush your bare waist, awakening fire underneath your skin did you realize you were only in your bra. You pulled at his crisp button up shirt until the buttons scattered around the room before you impatiently pushed it down his arms and bit at his lip, making him hiss for a moment to pull back to look down at you.

“Behave,” he warned you, smirking slightly and you tilted your head, arching a brow.

“You first.”  

He let out a chuckle, then winked at you and leaned down to kiss you again.

Chapter 28

[bimbo-baggins17]

Stalker Anakin Skywalker Headcanons

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CW: 18+ MDNI! Use of Y/N at least once (I’m sorry!!), Manipulation, stalking (obvs), toxic behavior, mastubation (m & f), afab language, lots of cum, (does this qualify as dead dove do not eat..?) and there’s probably more I’m forgetting .-.

A/N: This has been on my mind heavily lately (especially after watching Saltburn which is what inspired this). I got carried away with this.. Also I’m picturing Modern!Ani with this..Hope you enjoy!<3

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Stalker!Ani first saw you because you both went to the same college. You caught his eye immediately and from that moment he knew you were his.

Stalker!Ani would make a point after that moment to learn your schedule, devising a plan on how to get closer to you. He’d make you notice him one way or another.

Stalker!Ani “accidentally” coming across you one day while biking back to his dorms. You’re sitting in the grass, your own bike laying beside you.

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Anakin stops peddling, braking with the handbrake. “Hey, everything alright?” He asks. You look up to see who’s talking to you, and he mentally rejoices seeing your beautiful eyes finally finally trained on him.

You sigh and shake your head, “I’ve got a flat tire and my class is on the other side of campus.” You explain in a frustrated huff.

He hums in acknowledgment. With zero hesitation he climbs off his bike. “You can borrow mine.” He offers

Your eyebrows raise in surprise and he feels a small sense of pride seeing some of your worry ease. “Are you sure?”

He immediately nods his head, “Yeah of course don’t even worry about it. Just return it to the bike racks outside of the Sloan building. I know your face now if you don’t.” He says with a smile.

Your face lights up and you push yourself to your feet, brushing off any grass or dirt from your pants. He lowers the seat and the handlebars for you so you can reach easier. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you. I’m Y/N by the way.”

His smile widens. He already knew but it’s nice to hear it from your lips. “Anakin.”

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Stalker!Ani would find it even harder to resist you after finally getting the smallest crumb of your attention. If anything it only fanned the flame of his obsession.

Stalker!Ani who just so happens to coincidentally see you at the bar with a group of your friend the weekend after letting you borrow his bike. He barely pays attention to anything else. When he gets up to get himself another pint, he catches your eye.

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Your gaze drifts up from your friends towards the bar and you notice Anakin. Maybe it’s the alcohol that helps to calm your nerves but you get his attention. “Anakin! Hey!”

He smiles to himself, his plan was already going smoothly. He wipes the dopey grin from his face to turn around and see you, feigning surprise. “Oh hey, Y/N, right?”

You nod your head, “Yeah, that’s me. I um, I was wondering if you’d like to come join my friends and I for a couple rounds?”

How could he say no to such a sweet offer?

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Stalker!Ani who watches in disdain, his jaw clenched as you’re hit on by some random guy when you go up to order another round of shots for the table. His hands clenched into fists, leaving nail marks in his palm from how tightly he’s squeezing them, watching as you feed into the attention.

Stalker!Ani makes sure to play it off as a lightweight to get your attention back on him. Your trusting nature makes it easy, almost too easy to the point he should feel bad, but he doesn’t. Not when you’re helping him back to your dorm because he’s just “too drunk” to remember where his dorm is. And especially not when he’s laying on your couch, covered in a blanket that smells like you.

Stalker!Ani can’t help that he’s painfully hard, listening to your soft breaths after you’ve fallen asleep in your bed just a few feet away from him. Before he’s fully aware of it, his hand is already stroking his cock. Seems like you’re a heavy sleeper because you don’t stir when he grunts or groans. It makes his mind spin with the possibilities.

Stalker!Ani who finds himself sneaking into your room quite often afterwards. He loves to lay in your bed, breathing you in. He holds a pillow, imagining it’s you he’s curled into. His favorite time to go though is when you’re there and asleep.

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Anakin stands at the head of your bed, looking down at your relaxed face as you slumber. Reaching out, he gently strokes your cheek, you don’t even budge. He grins to himself, pulling his phone out he opens the camera, pressing record as he undoes the drawstring of his sweats and shimmies them down along with his boxers enough for his dick to spring out. He can’t help but to tap your cheek a couple times with it before he gathers some of your drool in his hand and lets it mix with his precum to lube himself.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress any moans, his brows draw together tighter with each stroke. His eyes stay laser focused on your pretty face, imagining what it would be like to have you choking on his length.

Before he can redirect himself, he spurts hot cum all over the side of your face. He doesn’t know how, but he doesn’t question it, you don’t wake up. He takes a moment to admire his handiwork, making sure to get a close up with his phone camera.

Grabbing a pair of your discarded panties from your dirty laundry he does his best to use them to clean up your face before burying them in your hamper.

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Stalker!Ani who is found by your side a lot more frequently since the night at the bar. It had been the invitation he had been waiting not so patiently for.

Stalker!Ani knows your other friends aren’t fond of him. He knows they think he’s weird and oddly clingy already but it doesn’t matter as long as you still find him charming.

Stalker!Ani makes it routine for him to sneak into your room while you’re sleeping just to jack off by you, making sure to video it every time because enjoys replaying them.

Stalker!Ani who has a couple keepsakes (a few pairs of your dirty panties) from his nighttime “adventures” tucked away in his room.

Stalker!Ani who’s favorite thing is to either keep a pair pressed to his nose, inhaling your delicious scent as he beats himself off, or to use a pair to stroke his cock.

Stalker!Ani gets a little more confident the longer this goes on, opting to slide your panties down your legs as you sleep so he can cum in them and slip them back on for you, patting the cum soiled crotch against your pussy.

Stalker!Ani has you lulled into a fake sense of security with him. You confide in him that you’ve noticed some of your more personal items have gone missing, or things are out of place when you get home. Or the one time your bed was warm like someone had been laying in it.

Stalker!Ani offers to stay with you whenever you feel unsafe and you very happily take him up on that offer. You poor little naïve thing.

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“I really appreciate this, Anakin, thank you.” You say as you’re grabbing a spare blanket and pillow for him. He happily accepts them when you pass them to him.

He shakes his head and waves a hand dismissively, “Don’t even mention it. I don’t want you feeling unsafe at all.”

The smile you give him is enough to make his heart beat spike. You’re making this way too easy for him.

“Just make yourself comfortable, I’m going to take bath.”

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Stalker!Ani tries to actually be well behaved for just this once. But then after you’re in the bath for awhile he hears something.

Stalker!Ani tiptoeing over to the bathroom door and pressing his ear firmly against it. His eyes widening. He had heard correctly. Your soft moans and whimpers go straight to his cock immediately.

Stalker!Ani debates about just throwing the door open. You’re so close to him while you’re naked, it’s not fair. But he holds back, allowing himself to listen for just a little bit longer before forcing himself to sit back on the couch.

Stalker!Ani plays it cool once you come back out, acting none the wiser to what you were just doing in there.

Stalker!Ani excuses himself to the bathroom. With the door shut behind him, he climbs into the still draining tub and dropping onto his knees, slurping up whatever he can of your dirty bath water as it slips down the drain, groaning happily at the taste. If he could, he’d collect it in a jar and save it for whenever he wanted another sip.

Stalker!Ani finally has gotten a literal taste for you and it only sent him into overdrive.

Stalker!Ani starts to get more ballsy, sneaking into your place more often when you’re home, hiding under your bed just to hear that delicious squelching of your fingers curled deep inside of yourself, completely unaware that he’s there. He knows that you’re probably struggling to reach where you need it the most, something he could easily help you with if you just let him.

Stalker!Ani shows an incredible amount of self restraint when he hears ‘Ani’ fall from your lips in a whimper.

Stalker!Ani listens in feigned concern as you come to him once you start getting calls from blocked numbers, the only thing to be heard on the other line is heavy breathing, sometimes accompanied by lewd sounds.

Stalker!Ani finds a sick gratification in subjecting you to listening to him jerk off.

Stalker!Ani welcomes you into his place with open arms when you show up one night wanting to stay because you didn’t feel safe. He listens as you explain it seemed like someone had been there again and recently. You were right though..it was him

Stalker!Ani agrees to run back to your place to get you an overnight bag because you didn’t feel safe enough to go back.

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━ ☆…━━

“Yeah, of course I’ll do that sweetheart. Just stay here and relax okay? Make yourself comfortable.” He says brushing a hand gently through your hair, his thumb swiping comfortingly against the side of your head.

You nod your head and offer a small smile in ‘thanks’ as you watch the door shut behind him. You let out a shaky breath in relief as your nerves start to calm down, feeling a false sense of security.

After a little, you find yourself feeling bored, doom scrolling on your phone can only do so much after awhile. Walking around his place absentmindedly, you find yourself in his bedroom. You smile at the few photos he has, and notice one of you two from one of your times at a bar together, his arm strung casually around your shoulders. You pick it up and examine it closer, your grin growing. He was sweet.

Your phone buzzes with a text. At the same time you hear a ‘ping’ on his MacBook that’s open on his desk. Weird. You don’t think much of it, it’s purely coincidence right? You check the text on your phone, sending one back.

Another message buzzes on your phone, and again his laptop gets a notification. Once is a coincidence, but twice is suspicious. Maybe if your senses weren’t already on edge you wouldn’t have thought about it but your feet are already leading you to it.

Sitting in his desk chair, you swipe your finger on the mousepad, the screen turning back on. Before your eyes is a copy of all of your texts, phone calls, contacts, apps, everything, plain as day on his laptop. Your heart sinks to your stomach.

A couple more clicks of curiosity and you fight the urge to puke. Countless pictures and videos in a hidden file of you sleeping, and his cock in his hands as he strokes himself. Numerous thumbnails and stills of your face covered in his cum. Your face contorts in disgust. He’s the reason your stuff has gone missing, he’s the one sneaking into your place, following you, calling you. And you’re in his bedroom.

Your thoughts are racing as it puts the pieces of the puzzle together, to the point you don’t even hear the door open, or his footsteps down the hall.

The color drains from your face as your blood runs cold.

“Well well well. I really wish you didn’t go snooping, sweetheart.”

Liked this? Check out my other work here

[b0r3dtod3ath]

Please write tennisplayer!reader x Oscar. Him coming to a match of hers for the first time, and her explaining stuff to him (just started to get into tennis myself). Them having a good time and just vibing at the tennis open.

Oscar had never gone too deep into tennis before, his knowledge of tennis extended to recognizing names like Serena Williams and Roger Federer. However, when he started dating you, a professional tennis player, his interest in the sport naturally grew. 

He couldn’t hide his excitement and confusion as the two of you walked through the green scenery of All England Club. In between your practice and media you took your boyfriend on a little tour to explain a few things. 

“Okay, let's start with the basics. No! Wait, we will get the strawberries first” Oscar chuckled at your sudden change of plans but went with it. 

As you led him to the food stands, you began explaining the traditions of the tournament, “So, one of the best things about Wimbledon is the strawberries and cream. It’s a must have”. You grabbed a box each and continued your walk. “Okay, now we can continue. Where was I?” you said in between chewing. 

You found a quiet area near the practice court. “See those lines? The outer ones are for doubles and inner ones are for singles”. You pointed with your finger. “Got it. And those?” Oscar asked as he gestured towards the perpendicular ones. “That’s the service box, basically when you serve, the ball has to land there. You have two tries and if you fail it’s called a double fault and your opponent gets a point”. 

“Uh Huh, but the points are weird, aren’t they? I don’t get them.” he said with scrunched nose which made you giggle. “Yeah, it’s a bit odd. We start with love, which means zero. Then it goes fifteen, thirty, forty. If both players reach forty, it’s called deuce. From deuce, you need to win by two points. So that’s how you win a game and you need six and be up by two to win a set. If it's six-six, we play a tiebreak”. 

He nodded trying to organize the information in his mind, “a tiebreak?”. “Yea, we alternate serves and the first to seven, and again up by two, wins” you explained. “Got it. And how many sets do you need?”. “Well, at Wimbledon it’s best of three for women and best of five for men. So I need to win two sets to win a match”. 

“Alright, that makes sense, I guess… I don’t know if I can remember all that” Oscar said. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re gonna figure it out as you watch. I’m glad you’re interested. It means a lot to have you here” you hugged his arm as you two walked.

The next day Oscar dressed up nicely and sat next to your team. It was his time to be your wag. He watched you take your headphones out as you entered the court. Your expression was cold, focused and determined, a stark contrast to how he knew you. He couldn’t help but to smile with pride. 

The match began, and Oscar’s eyes were glued to the court, more specifically to your side of it. He found the speed at which the serves and rallies happened surprisingly fast. He admired the way you hit the ball with full power, while still keeping it full of grace and precision. Anytime you looked at him he would flash you a big smile and thumbs up.

He found himself not caring about others while cheering louder than anyone else at every point you scored. During the game he had in mind everything you explained to him the previous day. As the match passed he understood the sport more and more, and didn’t hesitate to ask your coach when he got confused. 

The match ended with your victory, something that could be easily predicted as it was one of the first games of the tournament. “You were amazing! So fast! I’m into tennis now. You need to teach me” you heard as you approached him after the game. “Thanks Oscar, means a lot. I’m glad you like it because I hope you will be watching me here for the next two weeks” you said as he hugged your sweaty body without hesitation.

July 22, 2024

[appleblueberry-pie]

Vampire Geto Suguru

A/N: Ok so this entire writing makes zero sense because it sounds like i'm making this a short story, but I realized like halfway through that there is no way for me to finish this unless it becomes a short story and I felt every single patient bone in my body disappear at the realization. So...it's gonna sound unfinished. But if you ask questions about Vampire Suguru x Half-Vampire Reader, I will answer questions. I want to answer all possible questions that can't be answered in this 'supposed-to-be-a-short-story.' Cuz it has amazing potential that my hands can't fulfill.

Suguru almost has everything he's ever wanted. Power. Local fame. And control over the city he could call his. His followers, devotees, were nothing but scum on the bottom of his shoe that he could scrape off anytime he wanted. In the heart of Tokyo, he owns a corporate building meant to attract wealthy families in hopes of healing them of their pains and sins. Almost like what a place of worship would be.

Near-wealthy men and women sit in the largest room the floor below the top floor, meant to sit there in honor of Geto blessing their eyes with his presence. He is all they need and nothing more. He often convinces the people who make an appointment with him that it's the same thing for them, as well. But he's good at manipulating.

Filthy rich men and women, sometimes entire families, come crawling to him to fix family problems, their perverted minds, their souls, their bodies, in hopes they'd be pure at the end of the night. Instead, they become his next meal. Peasant human blood tastes a little too rotten for his liking. So, he sticks to the next best thing. The poor should be thanking him for taking the load for them.

The only problem was that nowhere in Japan was there vampires. At least, not anyone past his bloodline. But he already erased them entirely. Human women reek of selfish desires, tainted iron in their blood, and sex. It's so clear what they want and he can never get past the smell. So, as far as the seas go, he's never seen someone he could busy his mind with for the next couple thousand of years. If not, eternity. But who knows how long his patience will last until then...?

His nose was guiding him somewhere, currently.

His feet following the invisible trail of the scent. The smell he's only picked up back when his bloodline was still alive. When they were in their prime. When they were farthest from their human counterparts. There's no way he could find what he's thinking of, right?

His nose led him into a small grocery store. Somewhere around the alleyways and crooked backstreets in between the tall buildings in Tokyo at 2 in the morning. Only his kind would be out at this time of night.

He walks in, the fluorescent light accentuating his pale skin and muscular figure. His black hair and clothing makes him stick out in the midst of the colorful food choices surrounding him. And in between the different smells of fresh ripe fruit and disinfectant chemicals, he could catch the natural musk of another him.

Another him.

Another vampire.

He ignores the cashier asking if he needed help and nearly speed-walked through one of the aisles, the scent only getting stronger. He grows more determined and turns the corner only to run into a shorter girl, dressed in black like he was. You both make eye contact.

You two share a very silent and quick understanding of who was in front of who. And who was what.

"Excuse me," You mutter.

You attempt to side-step him and ignore him like nothing ever happened, and he mirrors your movement, effectively blocking you.

You look back up at him, your eyes more piercing than the first time you made eye contact. He could see the color difference the moment you moved to look up at him. Now that he was close enough, he could also smell your irritation. You're not dead.....you're half-human. No wonder.

He clenches his jaw. He knows himself enough to understand that he wouldn't even consider letting you go, knowing he just found the first non-relative vampire in Japan since- he doesn't even know how long. Black coat, a neat white turtleneck and skirt underneath the coat. Leggings, socks, and shoes follow the black and white pattern. Original skin color being paler than usual. Somewhat of muscle definition hidden. He was scaring you. He can smell it. And your fangs are beginning to poke out. And can he hear you growling at him?

He finds himself smiling, pleased with how his night was now going. "I apologize for bumping into you. Please, allow me to pay for your-" You shoulder him hard enough to almost knock him into the stand of chips behind him. No one's showed him that amount of strength in a while. He follows close behind you, not letting the moment phase him.

You place your things on the front desk, and the cashier matches your pace, scared of the, now two, taller figures watching him do his job. Both you and Geto seemed to tower over him from across the counter, eyes unfaltering in their predatory stare. You just want to get the hell out of the store and Geto....he just doesn't like the guy. He squeaks out the total, and before you could dig in your purse fast enough to grab your wallet, Geto places his card on the counter. You don't even bother to turn around and just wait silently for the cashier to finish up. When the transaction is over, Geto moves to grab his card again and you're already halfway out the door, things in hand.

You don't look back, hoping he would finally stop pursuing you. Once you turn the corner, Geto's already there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. You let out a nasty hiss, nearly snarling at him and he raises his hands up. "I know. I'm not here to hurt you. I just...wanted to introduce myself." "I don't need your introduction. I know pretty clearly who you are. And what you are. Leave me the hell alone."

Geto's face dropped slightly when you tried to brush him off again and turned the other way with your groceries in hand. Once again, he's reminded of centuries of loneliness and his hand is already grabbing your arm. "Wait." You grunt in annoyance and slight fear. His man was a full vampire. You moved to Japan to avoid any kind of vampires. You wanted silence in your life from all kinds of people that would be after you to court you and kill you just because you're a half-breed. And the one time you thought you could finally have silence, there's a rich and powerful man in Japan who's almost like a Monk who can solve all problems of the modern man. And he's acting as if he's one of them, but turns out to be a pure blood. You didn't care if he told you sweet words.

You didn't want to die.

"Aren't you lonely? Being the only vampire in the city? I just want a companion. Someone who's like me. I don't want to sound desperate, but you're the only vampire I've meet in Japan in ages. Is friendship too much to ask for?"

You turn around, thankful for him letting go of you. "I left my hometown to escape all of the vampires coming after me. You being here is the only issue I have in Japan. Everything else is a blessing to come across. As much as I would like to help someone in need, all I want is to be alone."

Suguru wish he cared about your past as much as he cared for his own mental sanity.

For a half-blood, you were stronger than you let on. Getting you into the, very well decorated and furnished, basement was a hassle. You gave him a few nasty scars and ruined his shirt. But once you were thrown back through the heavy doors for the 4th time, you finally settled with the realization that you can't get past this man. Your ear piercing screams and bites turned into whimpers and cries as you attempted to comfort yourself in the corner of the cold room.

He felt bad. He didn't want you to be so...scared of him. But there's no other way for you to accept him. You tired yourself out and even broke one of your nails(it was already almost fully back) trying to escape.

Suguru sighed, discarding his tattered shirt. "I'm sorry things had to be this way. I do wish we can get along a little better when the time comes. But for now, it's just going to have to be like this." He sits on his old couch and sighs when one of his servants comes in with a pouch of blood. You watch her eye your captor down before smiling at him with the blood on a serving tray. "Good evening, Master-" Her voice obviously pitched to try and please him, when it did the exact opposite. You snarl and before she can finish her sentence, you tackle her to the ground, landing on the opposite side of the room.

She screams bloody murder as your nails dig into her skin, your mouth reaching for the crevice. She's never seen another one of you. Another vampire. She thought her master was the only one in the world, the only one meant to be considered and known. But here you were, ruining her ideologies. Killing her with your selfish nature. She wishes she could hurt you back, but you were bigger, stronger, and would haunt her in her worst nightmares in ways only Suguru said he could. You were everything he said he was. And she hated it.

Not like it mattered when your teeth breached her skin, sucking her unworthy blood for all she's known for. You groan at the taste of good blood for the first time in over 100 years. You stopped drinking blood back at home when you knew it'd get you nowhere, trying to hide. But you had a reason now. You had to leave this place.

Each swallow of warm iron made you feel brand new. You felt lighter. You felt energized. You felt angry that you stopped for so long. How stupid were you to give up something so good? Your outfit started to feel too tight. You were growing back to your natural height.

Suguru got up, watching you tear into his servant. He got a whiff of your scent once more, it was more potent, almost entirely different. He almost felt ashamed being turned on by it, but this is exactly what he wanted. Someone to indulge his fantasies in. You were perfect for him.

When you finished, you detached yourself from the girl's neck and stared at the dehydrated corpse underneath you. Suguru's voice was enhanced now that your hearing is back to how it's supposed to be. "I'll have someone discard the body." You ripped off the tight shoes on your feet and stood, meeting his eyes. You were a probably a couple of inches shorter than him. Definitely taller than you used to be.

"Let me go." You watched his eyes trail to your lips covered in blood and wanted to swipe him so bad. But you knew he was still stronger than you, even at full strength. You can smell it. (You would never admit he smelled so good.) Suguru smiles at your words. "I can't, Princess."

You step closer, almost attempting to size him up. "At least let me shower. Are you gonna neglect me of that, too?" "Only if I can't have the honors of doing it myself." You scoff, shouldering him on your way to the couch. He actually rubs his shoulder in pain this time. "If I let you bathe, you have to promise me that you won't try to escape. My home can only take so much damage." Suguru realizes he likes teasing you. "I'll let you prove yourself to me this one time. I hate that human scent lingering on you."

"I'm a half-breed." "You know that's different." You sigh this time, rubbing your face.

It's gonna be a while before you find a way to escape this lunatic.

[harrysgal]

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (5)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

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PART 4 — THE VIDEO // MASTERLIST

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I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 5) — FROM SAN ANTONIO TO DALLAS

liked by bestfriend, sisterinlaw, cuteguy and 63,157 others 

yourinstagram sightseeing tonight 😍 getting to know these cities only gets better and better guys 

view all 9,105 comments

harryfan7 was this before or after dinner with harry? 😏

↳ harryfan3 stoppp. my heart cant take it ↳ harryfan11 no bc the idea of them walking together and stopping to take pictures it’s just so 🤏

lookitsnyoh 🦭 pillowpersonpp 🦥 anthonypham 🧸

↳ harryfan not the teddy bear!!! 

harryfan117 MISS SARAH JONES IS HERE user8 whats with all the emojis guys!! let me innnnn  user1 YOU’RE BACK 🥰 bestfriend its not the city its all you baby bc you light up the world like nobody else

↳ harryfan that was just… ↳ harryfan5 HEJAHDH NO YOU DIDNR ↳ yourinstagram ….  ↳ yourinstagram i dont even know how to react  ↳ bestfriend wish i could say im sorry or embarrassed but im actually not 

cuteguy Looks amazing!

Sep 10, 2021 •

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liked by user1, user4 and 517 others

cuteguy congrats darling ＠yourinstagram 

view all 75 comments 

harryfan60 see?? she isn’t dating Harry

↳ harryfan58 I fucking knew it  ↳ harryfan62 hope this pr nonsense stops 

user14 little sus but alright ig  randomguy cool bro  user44 dude there’s no way she hasn’t cheated on you lol user3 you guys are so fucking disrespectful can you pls leave this man alone???

↳ user26 I mean he’s the one who decided to go public so… 🤷‍♀️ ↳ user3 his ig being public doesn’t automatically mean you’re supposed to be rude tho. 

user36 Am I the only one who finds this picture adorable?

↳ user38 me too!! i was looking for a nice comment about it lol thanks! ↳ user36 I mean they definitely look like a couple and idk it’s a cute pic :( ❤️ liked by author 

Sep 10, 2021 •

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liked by annetwist, bestfriend, cuteguy and 63,879 others 

yourinstagram update time: went out for a run and my lungs got on fire. view was great though. zero complaints. also the show last night was INCREDIBLE. 

view all 13,719 comments

bestfriend shut up you actually went for a run?? 

↳ harrystyles I wouldn’t call that going for a “run”.  ↳ bestfriend okay that actually makes more sense now ↳ yourinstagram excuse me????? 

harryfan OMFG harry interacting with yourbff??? 

↳ harryfan5 I KNOW! where are you ＠bestfriend are you still alive???  ↳ bestfriend no  ↳ bestfriend but im pretending to be cool about it so 🤫 ↳ harryfan OMFHAJDHPAHDJ ILY

cuteguy 😍 user7 yessss! two days in a row!!!! thank you!!! user1 looks so prettyyyyyy! hope you’re doing okay <33

↳ yourinstagram i am!! thank you love <333 

yourbrother Won’t believe you’ve moved your ass to be healthy until I see it.  

↳ yourinstagram the fact that you dont believe me wont change the fact that it happened :D

harryfan15 harry is such a stalker. interacting with her posts when he doesn’t even follow her lol harryfan25 Anne started following her!!!  user10 Not to rush you, but are we getting more videos anytime soon? I was so used to getting one every week… :( user25 So… She’s officially dating that cuteguy, isn’t she? 

↳ user17 What? Who said that?  ↳ user25 TMZ updated that article of her and Harry having dinner with this picture of them ↳ user17 Oh… Where can I see this picture? ↳ user25 She’s tagged on it. ＠cuteguy posted it  ↳ user13 i wouldn’t believe (or read) TMZ guys ↳ harryfan68 funny how you won’t believe TMZ when it’s about this guy but you’ll believe them when it’s about harry ↳ user13 lmao I’m not in that fandom so I couldn’t care less about her dating harry or not. 

harryfan13 SO WE ARE ALL GOING TO IGNORE THE FACT THAT HARRY AND YN WENT OUT FOR A RUN TOGETHER?????

↳ harryfan60 Yes bc no one actually believes they did. Next. ↳ harryfan68 hahaha you ate this one 

Sep 10, 2021 •

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liked by harryfan, harryfan2, harryfan3 and 4,375 others 

harryupdates A fan met Harry in San Antonio today! 

According to the fan, Harry said he was on a tight schedule so couldn’t stay for a chat, but agreed to take a quick picture and thanked her for going to the show. 

view all 675 comments

fanwhometharry “Thank you so much I hope you enjoyed it”, those were his words exactly :’)

↳ harryfan27 OMG IT WAS YOU?? YOU’RE SO LUCKY ↳ fanwhometharry I know!! Thank you!!! ↳ harryfan24 was he alone??  ↳ fanwhometharry No, he was walking with his personal trainer and Yn ↳ harryfan52 his personal trainer also has a name btw and it’s Brad  ↳ fanwhometharry Sorry, I don’t keep up with his personal trainer 🤷 I only know Yn bc I watch her youtube videos ↳ harryfan9 don’t apologize they’re always finding something to complain about lol happy for you!!

harryfan72 How convenient… He always agrees to take pictures when Yn is around 🙄 

↳ harryfan68 right??? almost as if he WANTS people to spread the word… 

harryfan13 I KNEW I WAS RIGHT AND THEY WERE TOGETHER

Sep 10, 2021 •

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liked by annetwist, bestfriend, cuteguy and 61,574 others 

yourinstagram DALLAS! you are sooooo so pretty <3 we arrived yesterday and im already in love. it was a sunny afternoon so i went out for a walk, and as i was on my way to buy some flowers to myself (bc i wanted some so i got some) i had one of those surreal moments thinking about how lucky i am to be where i am right now. im always waiting for this feeling to eventually go away so i can come back to my “old life” and my “old self”, but now im kinda considering that as time goes by and i get to know more and more places, it will actually only grow bigger and bigger, right? :’) 

(in that case, feel free to unfollow me now bc the annoyance will only grow bigger and bigger as well — consider yourself warned.)

view all 14,102 comments

sisterinlaw The summer vibes are gorgeous! harryfan42 WAS HARRY WITH YOU????  user1 another post??? feels like going back to the old times im so happy!!! harryfan64 this girl won’t even post her face and she got like 4k new followers in one day 

↳ harrystyles82 It’s the Harry Styles effect  ↳ harryfan64 glad im not the only one who sees it 🤡

harryfan YN? DID YOU ACTUALLY JUST SAY I WANTED SOME SO I GOT SOME??? 

↳ harryfan5 i saw that too i was like… okay 😂 ↳ harryfan9 hahaha I hope she actually did get some tbh  ↳ harryfan13 ME TOO!! ↳ bestfriend yes. she 100% did ↳ harryfan9 😲 ↳ harryfan lmaoshuahsjbjh  ↳ harryfan17 wait ＠bestfriend she 100% say “i wanted some so i got some” or she 100% got some?  ↳ harryfan23 oh god i cant believe this is a real conversation you guys are having HAHAHA

user17 please keep feeding us with your random cute posts!! <3 i love them!! bestfriend fgs ＠yourinstagram have some manners  bestfriend i thought you didnt like exposing yourself like this  bestfriend also… your mom is on instagram so…  bestfriend PLEASE 

↳ yourinstagram omfg shut upppp ahusdhjahj ↳ yourinstagram stop encouraging the nonsense behavior??? ↳ yourinstagram you KNOW i meant the flowers ↳ yourinstagram i wanted some FLOWERS so i got some FLOWERS ↳ bestfriend yeah i know 💐 ↳ bestfriend sorry its just too funny sometimes 💋

loveynrry did anyone else notice yn hasn’t liked THAT picture yet? 👀

↳ user4 which one? ↳ loveynrry the one @/cuteguy posted ↳ user4 ohhhhhh 👀 ↳ user4 also did you notice yourbff doesn’t follow him ↳ user9 shit ＠user4 i hadn’t noticed that  ↳ loveynrry i did, yeah… thats why im sus about him ↳ user4 I mean, I trust yourbff judgement soooooo…… 

Sep 11, 2021  •

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— — — — — 

PART 6: soon!

— — — — — 

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

request!!: peter parker who has a huge crush on reader and one day r just accidently friendzones themself without even realising that they did? (i hope that makes sense?) then after that u can take it anywhere u want to honestly!! ly <333

ily anon, you answered my pleas. also you know that tt prank where couples kiss and then say “thanks brother” or “love you sis”… couldn’t help but add it for some comedy.

mcu!peter parker x fem!reader

masterlist

you need to learn when to shut your mouth. tripping your foot into your mouth has gotten you into too many situations before, but this one is absolutely the worst one. you might as well be taken to the grave already.

your just a girl. sometimes you say your crush is “like a brother to you” when getting hounded by mr. delmar. it’s a panic move, mouth speaking before mind catches up. and it landed you in the dog house when you saw the way peter’s face dropped at the implication. but you thought he was smart enough to know that wasn’t true, you were touchy and teasing with him. you wouldn’t do that with a sibling, you’re not one of those people.

“mj, i’m a fucking idiot.” groaning into your pillow, trying to suffocate yourself.

she gave an exasperated sigh that you knew was followed by an eye roll. “yes you are, but you don’t need parker.” you heard the flip of a page.

you whined in your throat, “but i want parker!” acting like a tantrum kid. even adding a kick to your feet, your bed springs creaking.

mj groaned, “then clear the air! it’s not that hard!” over your peter parker drama.

you rolled from your stomach to your back, arms flipping to your sides as you stared up at your white ceiling. “but what if-“ your sentence was cut short by a knock at your window.

“say his name and he appears.”

peeking at the tips of your toes you saw peter squatting on your terrace, a hesitant smile with an awkward wave. welp, now’s a good time to clear the air.

crawling off your bed you pushed the window up and were greeted by a cool breeze. bits of peter’s baby curls swaying with the touch, a angelic glow surrounding him. you feel yourself melt just at the sight of him.

“h- hey peter, whatcha-“ “can we talk? alone?”

your eyes zeroed in on mj who was blantanly staring at the two of you, book of no interest at the moment. “oh, i’m fine over here.”

“mj…” “fine. fine. i’ll see you both at school.” packing up and leaving your home with a wiggle of her brows.

“so what did-“ “do you really think of my as a brother?”

you couldn’t help a small chuckle, “kinda funny how you’ve interrupted me three times, but uh, no. i- i don’t see you as a brother, that thought feels gross. mr. delmar was making me anxious.” looking to your fingers as you drummed them along your windowsill.

“oh thank god.” peter declared while cupping his hands on your cheeks to bring your head up. both of you smiling brightly at each other

two months later

“so what do i do?” “just sit there and look pretty.”

a shy smile at peter’s lovely words. he finished setting up his camera and pressed record, you just stared at his side profile.

“you wanna get to her, well you gotta go through me.” and peter turned to kiss you on the lips. a shiny haze covered your eyes then- “love you sis.”

“peter!”



[scoobydoodean]

ok so forewarning, i don’t really have a question here, just lots of thoughts.

there’s so many layers to the general *badness* about the mia vallens therapy scene. like to the manipulation (for lack of a better word) that sam rewrites. like it makes such a difference that she thinks jack is their little brother instead of the son of the thing that killed dean’s best friend/loml. not to mention the fact that it’s been what like a week since *everything*

and like yes dean’s being cold towards jack and giving him orders (which, i could argue they weren’t uncalled-for), but tbh he’s only being moderately colder/more direct with him than he’s been with cas at times on hunts (thinking hunteri heroici) and even similar to how *sam* has been with like claire and even dean himself (thinking that episode dean turned into a teenager and all of MOC). like genuinely, how was sam expecting him to act like?

also (half joking) i genuinely think dean would’ve warmed up to jack even quicker than he did (we can already see it in this same episode, like that look he gives jack when he asks mia if buddy hurt her too) if he heard jack say he hates anakin skywalker lol

ok wait i do have a question. do you think jack actually was “terrified” of dean during that therapy scene?

(post linking to some context)

Okay so I rewatched 13.01-13.04 on a plane this past week so it's all extra fresh on my mind rn. The thing about 13.04 is that Dean wasn't comfortable bringing Jack on the hunt, and Jack didn't want to go, but Sam pushed insistently for all of them to go on the hunt together... primarily because Dean's feelings were thwarting Sam's plans for Jack and his own emotional coping mechanisms in a larger sense.

I think Dean's feelings compared to Sam's here are relatively more simple (and yet somehow still intensely misunderstood to a baffling degree). Dean was grieving. He was grieving Cas who died right in front of him, he was grieving Crowley (he pleads with Chuck to bring "even Crowley" back in 13.01!) and he was grieving Mary.

The thing with Dean's grief over Cas is this: instead of viewing it from Dean's perspective, we tend to analyze it as omniscient viewers who know Cas will come back, refusing see how miraculous Cas’s return truly was. We refuse to see Cas's death was different this time and appeared very permanent. There was no uncertainty like there was in season 7 or 8. His wings burned into the ground and his grace extinguished. Dean pleaded and prayed for Cas and Mary and Crowley's return to the only person who ever brought Cas back from certain death (via explosion in 5.01 and 5.22)—the person who told Dean in 11.23 he was leaving and Dean was on his own. Dean didn't hear back. The ONLY reason Cas comes back in 13.05 is that 1) Jack woke him him up unwittingly using powers no one knew he possessed and 2) Cas then annoyed a creature they didn't even know existed into letting him out of a place they 3) didn't even know existed and 4) Cas somehow came back with a body even though he had been burned to ash. All of this is completely miraculous. It was unforeseeable. It doesn’t even make complete sense as a viewer. In other words, Dean has ZERO reason to hope for Cas's return. There was ZERO reason to refuse to acknowledge that grief… but that's exactly what Sam does. He suggests Dean pray for Chuck to bring Cas back in 13.01. As soon as Sam knew Dean already tried that and Cas was DEAD dead, he treated Cas as something Dean needed to reframe and get over:

SAM: You thinking mom is gone and Cas is gone, and that Jack can’t be saved. Dean, after everything we’ve gone through… We just lost people we love, people who have been in our lives for a long time. Everything’s upside-down. I get it. But we’ve been down before. I mean, rock bottom. And we find a way. We fix it because that’s what we do.

This is the "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps" speech in 13.02—like a day after they burned Cas's body. Sam's wording here is cruel too—saying Dean is "thinking" Cas is gone as if he didn't die right in front of him? He refuses to acknowledge Cas's death as something Dean was actively and rightfully mourning. This becomes a major point of contention between the brothers at the end of 13.03.

DEAN: Look, I know you think that you can use [Jack] as some sort of an interdimensional can-opener and that’s fine, but don’t act like you care about him! Because you only care about what he can do for you! So if you want to pretend, that’s fine! But me? I can hardly look at the kid! Because when I do all I see is everybody we’ve lost! SAM: Mom chose to take that shot at Lucifer. That is not on Jack!

Sam will only name Mary—the one person whose death they can’t 100% confirm (the same thing happens in front of Mia in 13.04). The absence of Cas’s name here is pointed. So Dean says:

DEAN: And what about Cas?

And how does Sam respond?

SAM: What about Cas?

Uh... wow. That's what really sets Dean off to full on shouting:

DEAN: [Jack] manipulated him, he made him promises, said, ‘paradise on earth’ and Cas bought it and you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t!

Sam's denial of what Dean literally SAW (Cas died) and how that hurts—his insistence that Dean also halt grieving to hope for the impossible—it's a major sticking point and very revealing of Sam's own coping mechanisms. Sam's chief response to grief is to disassociate himself from it. We see a textbook case in season 8 (see: 8.08), but in most of the series, what this actually looks like for Sam is to keep moving and hunting (ex: 1.02, 2.02, 2.10, 2.11, 2.18 3.11, 4.09, 9.01) which is also why he insists on bringing Dean and Jack on the hunt in 13.04. Sam tries not to think about what they've lost and focuses on what he CAN do. He focuses on hoping Mary can be saved because she's the one person he didn't SEE die.

The thing about Dean’s grief over Mary is this: he convinces himself Lucifer had to have killed her. She's the one person whose death Dean can't be certain of, but he absolutely cannot bear the thought of hoping she’s alive and it turning out he’s wrong. He knows he wouldn’t psychologically survive hoping in that and his beliefs being crushed. It would be like losing his mom all over again (a THIRD time). So he sticks to what is most likely: Lucifer killed her. He can't contend with the hope Sam is clinging to desperately, and that's what makes them such poor companions in grief. Sam feels off balance when Dean won't keep moving and hoping like him—when Dean can't keep up the pace Sam wants to run at in his own grief—and in doing so, Sam keeps pushing Dean to contend with hopes that open Dean up to a WORLD of pain Sam can psychologically convince himself not to feel. Grieving together just really just doesn't work for them because they're never on the same page and deal in such different ways—and this has been hurting them from as early as 2.02!!!

Now to bring Jack into this more fully: Jack represents Sam and Dean's different perspectives on grief and on Mary. Just like Dean despairs over Mary's demise, Dean despairs over the possibility of Jack being good. He can't bear the idea of hoping in that and being wrong. The psychologically safest option for him is to assume the worst and not hope or believe in anything turning out okay.

Sam, on the other hand, pretty much immediately sees a way to use Jack to get Mary back. This is clear when he and Jack get locked up together in the jail cell in 13.01. After establishing that Jack isn't hearing things and (probably) isn't going to murder him imminently, Sam immediately starts down a line of questioning establishing how well Jack understands his powers, and then asks him outright:

SAM: Jack, look, um... before you were born, you -- you opened up a door to another world. Do you remember that? JACK: Yes. SAM: Okay, um, could you do that again?

Shortly after, when Sam arrives, he tells Dean (who is convinced after everything that happened in 12.23 that 12.19 that Jack is evil or will turn evil):

We need him.

Sam repeats this sentiment multiple times with clear meaning, and later in 13.04, he admits to Jack that he wants to use him to open the portal. This doesn't mean he doesn't also grow to see himself in Jack quickly and genuinely believe in his capacity for good, but he isn't fully honest with Jack about his motives until 13.04 where he finally comes clean, and this poisons the well with Jack a little.

@shallowseeker has pointed out before that in 13.03, while trying to figure out how to get Jack's powers to work (and spying on Jack through cameras from another room) Sam is seen reading "The Drama Of The Gifted Child". I wish I could find the post because Shal probably brought it up too, but when I was rewatching this episode, I noticed the chapter Sam had just settled into read before being interrupted was titled,

"Depression and Grandiosity: Two Related Forms of Denial"

Given the accusations flying from Sam toward Dean then from Dean toward Sam about denial in the following episode (13.04), this feels amusingly pointed. Dean is depressed (and about to attempt suicide in 13.05), Sam is depressed and has "grandiose" ideas of using Jack to pop open a portal to another reality while hiding behind the guise of being the most rational person in the room when he... isn't necessarily? And it's easy to argue "Well, Sam turns out to be right even if he didn't ultimately have much of a reason to think he was" but the core problem here is how his beliefs effect how he treats other people's grief. He isn't honest with Jack about his motives (while Dean is somewhat brutally honest) and pushes and watches even while claiming he's giving Jack space (13.03), he refuses to give Dean space to grieve even the family member they know is dead, he inserts a therapist into the situation and criticizes Dean's grief when Dean won't play his game, and in 13.05, after Dean says that he can't believe in anything right now, Sam's clumsy attempts at help involve plying Dean with alcohol he says he doesn't even want and trying to send him off to strip clubs—believing that Dean performing being okay will somehow address his mental state because Sam's idea of coping himself is simply "going through the motions".

As for Jack, I don't think he's scared of Dean. I think he's scared of what Dean believes. He's scared that Dean is right. From 13.01-13.06, Jack is contending with the question of whether he's destined for evil or good, and in his depressed state, Dean believes Jack is destined for evil because hoping in anything is completely beyond him at that moment. Sam tells Jack that he can be good, but he hides ulterior motives as to why he's being nice, and when those ulterior motives are revealed, it leaves Jack thinking Sam is the kind of person who will lie to Jack and tell him he's good just to get what he wants. Meanwhile, Jack knows Dean is being completely honest with him about what he believes. 13.03 and 13.04 clearly demonstrate that Jack understands the difference between beliefs and facts: Dean could be right or he could be wrong. What Jack holds onto like an anchor is that he can trust Dean to tell him the truth about what he believes—even if it hurts.

It's also just so obvious that Jack immediately wants Dean—specifically—to like him (see: Jack mimicking Dean's mannerisms while eating in 13.02, and his clumsy attempts to earn his favor in 13.04). Sam also picks up on this, and encourages Jack to seek Dean's approval in 13.04 to try and change Dean's beliefs. Sam (and to some extent Jack) are thinking in 13.04, that if Jack can prove to Dean that he can be good, and if Dean tells him he did a good job (which Dean does in the end), Jack can believe that. Sam sees that Jack wants Dean's approval and the impression that Dean's beliefs have had on Jack and thinks by pushing them together as soon as possible (when neither of them want to go on the hunt) and treating them as a family and forcing Dean to accept Jack when Dean just isn't ready (including by paralleling Jack with himself in a way that becomes an accusation), he can "fix" Jack so he isn't scared of his powers anymore (13.03) and then he can teach Jack to use his powers and Jack can open a portal to save their mom.

Jack's attempts to earn Dean's favor in 13.04 are clumsy. His first attempt is directly ignoring Dean telling him to wait in the car and sneaking into the crime scene, potentially contaminating it. At Mia's office, Jack's outburst about losing a mother is what allows Sam to set up the whole family therapy trap to begin with, and because Dean knows Sam is going to use that to hurt him, he warns Jack not to make outbursts like that. Dean is not being nice. Point blank. And I do think his tone is a little different than with Cas which in the past felt more like exasperation. I also don’t think it makes him the devil. I think that's understandable when putting in even a tiny amount of effort and it's kind of laughable to me how few people seem to even try because they're so caught up in Sam's happy family narrative and the idea that someone wanting Dean's approval presents an obligation that Dean give it no matter how emotionally impossible—and in a situation where asking him to lie would actually destroy that much more of Jack's trust.

[kitkatscabinet]

Whumptober - 05: Buried Alive

Simon Riley x gn! reader

A/N: Laptop finally fixed but now I'm sick!! Motivation at zero too but I hope y'all enjoy.

You woke gasping for air, coughing as your lungs filled with dust particulate. Taste was the first of your senses to return, an unpleasant mix of ash and plaster stuck to the linings of your mouth. 

Your head aches something fierce and though your vision is still slightly blurry you can still see the blood that covers your fingers from after you’d touched your hairline. The ringing in your ears is almost unbearable and it makes your head ache even more.

Your memories are even hazier than your vision and it takes more than a few minutes before you remember where you are. You remember Gaz’s voice, far more frantic than was typical of the usually cool man, as he’d yelled at you to get out of the building. 

You think you’d only made it about halfway down from the top before the bomb went off. In hindsight, it’s probably the reason you’re still alive and not completely buried under five floors' worth of building materials. 

Some might call it lucky that you hadn’t been outright crushed or even blown up in the initial blast. But as you lay there in pain unable to do anything but slowly die you can’t find it in yourself to agree. 

Though you’d probably die soon, whether from blood loss or lack of oxygen, there’s a sudden groan from the structure surrounding you and for a brief moment you think you might just get crushed after all. 

Tears slip from your eyes both from the pain and despair. You don’t want to die, not like this, cold and alone buried beneath tonnes of cement, but you know you will. 

The little movement you have in your neck is used to try and orient yourself to your surroundings, the darkness and dust greatly hindering your efforts. Any more attempts to move are instantly thwarted by a mix of sharp pain and weight bearing down on your body. Specifically your left leg, it’s too dark to see all that well but you can tell your leg is pinned by a slab of what used to be the wall. Or maybe the ceiling.

It was so painful that you quickly gave up, not wanting your last moments to be spent in that much pain. All in all, you were fucked. 

As you lay dying you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to your lieutenant. You wondered how he’d react to your untimely death. As terrible and selfish as it was for you to even consider, you hoped he’d mourn at least a little. 

Simon Riley had wormed his way into your heart and you doubted he’d ever leave. You just wish you could have told him, told him that to you, he was the sun. 

There’s a slight crackle and through the ringing in your ears, you hear what you think is Price’s baritone echoing around the space. Somehow your radio has survived the blast, but as you try and pinpoint its location it quickly becomes clear you won’t be able to reach it to respond. 

You almost don’t even try, it’s not until you hear Simon yelling that an ounce of your energy returns. Maybe if you could just reach the radio… then you could tell him how you felt. 

Reaching out, you stretch your fingertips through the darkness, your muscles straining and shaking in protest. There’s a concerning creak and more dust and gravel sprinkles over you in another shower as your movements unsettle the collapsed pile surrounding you. 

Still, you refuse to stop and eventually, your fingertips clasp over their target and you pull it close, even as something in your pinned knee cracks and you let out a shriek of pain. Dragging the radio towards you shakily you manage to form two words before the pain catches up once more. 

“East stairwell.” Instantly there's chaos over the coms once more, hardly anything you can make out over Price barking orders and Soap’s colourful swearing. Black dots are splotching in your vision and your lungs work in overtime to collect air once more. 

The pain is blinding and you want so badly to just pass out and be free from it all but your traitorous body won’t let you. 

Above you, Simon is digging through the rubble furiously, blood roaring in his ears as he screams at his teammates to help him. His throat is raw and his fingers are bloody but he refuses to give up, continuing to speak through the comms, to let you know that he was coming for you. 

Simon has had a lot of shitty, earth-shattering moments in his life but as he sifts through cement and rubble in a desperate search for you he thinks this might be the worst. From the moment it had become clear you hadn’t made it out in time it was like the earth had been pulled from beneath his feet. 

His face is wet, and it’s not until Soap and Price collectively manhandle him away from the rubble that he realises he’s crying. He’s screaming at the both of them, words he can’t even hear and Soap’s right eye is already starting to blacken from where Simon had socked him. 

They’re trying to talk him down, getting him to sit and breathe but Simon doesn’t even feel like he’s in his own body anymore. He can’t hear anything through the ringing and pounding, can’t see anything except the image his brain conjures of you lying dead or dying and so alone. 

He wonders if you’d called for him. You always did, even if nobody else realised. Whenever you were overwhelmed, stressed or in danger it was his name that came to you first, and he always answered. Always. 

He’s standing once more, trying to push past his captain and Soap who are still trying to corral him away from the site. He didn’t understand why they were preventing him from helping you. Simon would always come when you called, he needed you to know that he’d come to save you. He needed-

Gaz is shouting something and it takes the two men holding him back by enough surprise that Simon manages to muscle his way through. He doesn’t hear what Gaz said, but as he gets closer he realises it doesn’t matter because he can see you. 

Bruised, bloodied and covered in dust and ash but he can see you. 

He drops to his knees by your side, ignoring the sting of whatever sharp object he’d landed on and cups your face with shaky hands. Gloved fingers run delicately over your skin as he wipes away the grime. He’s begging you to open those pretty eyes, to let him see that you’re ok. 

You don’t hear or answer his pleas, and Simon remains rooted to the spot, desperately taking in every last inch of your face and committing it to memory, even as your blood stains his pants and gloves. 

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Right Time and Place

Summary: There's no time like the present.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut - this is just all smut. Pretty much zero plot to this porn. Unprotected P in V sex, oral (f receiving) vaginal fingering, size kink (kinda), Dean being a cocky little shit, Dean being a sweet bit of sunshine.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader (You)

Word Count: 1,726

A/N: K, I saw this little writing prompt earlier today and it inspired this smutty scenario. The prompt will be in bold, I changed it ever so slightly. Hope you enjoy it!! ❤️

P.S. I wrote this quickly - so sorry for the mistakes!

Master List

“This…is not…the right…time.” 

You pant into Dean’s ear as he sucks hard on a spot just below your jaw, leaving a purple bruise behind before he responds.

His voice is deep, rough and muffled against your skin. “Was there ever gonna be a right time?”

You try to answer but it turns into a gasp as he slides down the zipper on the side of your little black dress. It falls to pool at your feet and leaves you in your strapless black push up bra and matching panties.

“Fuck me.” Dean moans as his gaze sweeps up and down your body. “This is exactly the kind of perfect I knew you’d be.”

His words are slightly confusing to you and you don’t know whether it’s because what he said makes no sense or if it’s simply that your mind is spinning. This is the last place you’d expected to be tonight. 

For god’s sake -

“We’re in the middle of a case.” You finish your admonishment out loud. It loses its authority, however, when you end on a whimper. Dean is on his knees now in the large, walk-in linen closet that he’d pulled you into just minutes earlier. His teeth scrape your hip bone as he nibbles there and you try to protest again.

You’re supposed to be looking for a cursed object.

You struggle to find words as his mouth trails across your belly, his lips like silk, before his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

“I don’t even…I really don’t even like you.” The words are all breath as you sink your fingers into his short hair.

“Really, sweetheart?” You can feel Dean smirk against your skin before kissing a path over your hip, following his fingers as they lower your panties. He groans when he sees the way your pussy is glistening, wet and waiting. “That’s too bad, cause I really like you.”

He leans forward, licking up through your folds and your knees give out. But he quickly presses you back against the wall with one big hand flat on your stomach. His tongue dips into you, teasing your entrance, just barely pushing in the tip before pulling it out and flicking it against your clit.

You push a fist hard against your mouth to stop from screaming out the pleasure that rushes through you from head to toe. There’s a lavish gala party happening one floor below you and the last thing you need is people rushing upstairs to find out why someone is screaming. 

But Dean's mouth is pulling you apart, making you shudder and buck your hips forward. You sling your left leg over his tuxedo-clad shoulder, digging your heel into his muscled back and urging him on.

He takes the hint and one of his thick fingers slides into your quivering cunt. A choked sound of need falls from your throat and Dean chuckles.

“How ya like me now, baby?” He teases, his breath hot even against your overheated skin.

You shake your head. “You're such…a complete…idiot.” You pant.

Dean pulls his finger out of you and takes his mouth away to look up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Want me to stop?”

Your body trembles at the mere thought of it; as much as you and Dean bicker and shout at each other there’s no denying that sparks have been flying between you from your first sight of him. You'd been fantasizing this moment for months and you knew you'd never survive him walking away now.

You shake your head at him. “Never.” You tell him succinctly. “Don't ever stop.”

You buck your hips forward again and give up all pretense of resistance, pushing your heel into his back once again. “Please, Dean, fuck me.”

You watch Dean's emerald eyes darken as his pupils dilate. “If you say so, sweetheart.” 

His mouth is immediately back on you, sucking your clit into his mouth as he shoves two fingers deep inside you.

You cry out, the sound loud and keening. You know you’re running the risk of someone hearing you, but you can't stop the sounds every time Dean swipes the rough pads of his fingertips across your g-spot. 

You reach towards him and pull his bowtie loose and then yank it from around his neck. You shove the silk material into your mouth just in time to muffle your shout of ecstasy as Dean quickly and easily rips your orgasm out of you. He continues to suck on your clit, and tease your sweet spot all through your bone-shaking release.

While your whole body is still trembling, Dean stands up, and pulls the bowtie out of your mouth so he can kiss you, the tang of your pleasure still clinging to his lips. 

You shove his black tuxedo jacket off his shoulders, pulling his crisp white shirt free from his dress pants as he unzips them and pushes them down. You try not to rip the buttons on his shirt - you know the tux is a rental. 

But by the time you get to the last few, your fingers are too desperate to touch his warm, taut skin and you just rip the shirt open, hearing a couple of the buttons scatter across the closet floor.

Neither one of you cares very much, though, as you finally get your hands on his muscled torso and he lifts your leg to his hip. You can feel his hot, hard length rubbing gloriously through your folds before he grabs his cock and guides it smoothly into your welcoming heat.

Your hands are gripping his shoulders under his shirt and you dig your nails in as he bottoms out. He's stretched you so wide and is pressed so deep that it almost hurts. You tense up slightly and he stops moving inside you. He pushes his free hand between your bodies, pressing against your clit and circling his middle finger there. 

You thump your head back against the wall and roll it back and forth, mumbling nonsense, your brain scattered.

Dean frowns and catches your chin in his fingers. “I can't understand you, baby, and I need to know if I'm hurting you. I'll stop if you want.”

But you’re shaking your head before he finishes. “No, fuck no, Dean. Please don't stop. I just need a minute. You're so fucking big.”

The concern in his eyes melts into cockiness and a smirk hitches the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, sweetheart. Take all the time you need.” 

He continues to press his hard middle finger against your overly sensitive bundle of nerves and despite the smug little grin he wears now, his earlier concern and his willingness to stop in the very heat of the moment, burrow their way into your heart and you know you won't be able to root them out.

As he presses harder on your clit, your body explodes into nothing but nerve endings and burning bliss. Your cunt squeezes Dean's fat cock, buried so deep, and he groans harshly, his face buried in your neck. His fingers squeeze into the thigh he's holding against his hip, pressing so hard you know he'll leave bruises.

And yet, he still doesn't move inside you. You asked for time and he's giving it, even though you can feel how rock hard he is inside you.

Inexplicably you feel slightly choked up as you pull his head up from your neck and slot your mouth over his. His lips are so soft, and so sensual they make you shiver. Pleasure shoots to your core as he sucks gently on your top lip.

Finally, you whisper against his lips. “You can move now. Please move now. I need you, need to feel you fill me up over and over.”

Dean groans and pulls out of your body so he can slowly push back in. He keeps the same steady, slow pace, pushing and pulling against your clenching walls until you can't take it anymore.

“Faster Dean! Please, I need you faster and harder.” You mewl against his shoulder. 

Dropping your leg, he pulls out of your body. Before you can properly protest the loss of him, he's spun you around and bent you double. Your hands are braced against a step stool beside a shelf full of towels and toiletries.

He kicks your feet wide and then reaches around to stuff the bowtie back in your mouth.

“You'll probably need this again.” He says, his voice cocky once more.

You think about pulling the tie out and throwing back some kind of witty barb, but your words fail you completely as he slams himself home, his cock head perfectly hitting your sweet spot. You do indeed need to muffle the noise as he repeats the move, and leaves you shaking and screaming with want and need.

In a mere four or five strokes you're climaxing again, your cunt clutching and milking his cock as you feel him slam bruisingly against your cervix and then spill deep inside you. 

You're both shaking from the force of your climaxes as you take the silk cloth out of your mouth so you can pant easier. 

Dean slowly pulls out of you with a deep, barely suppressed moan. Your muscles feel too weak to move, so you're in the same position as he grabs a clean cloth from the shelf and uses the soft cotton to clean up the mess he left behind.

Finally he tosses the cloth into the hamper a few feet away and helps you stand up straight. Then he grabs your panties and helps you step into them. 

He runs his fingertip along the top of your bra. “Never even got to see these beauties.” His pout makes you laugh.

You make him groan as you reach forward to grip his now limp cock, marveling at the way it still twitches in your hand. 

“Well, like I told you, now isn't the right time.” You grin mischievously at him. “So what do you say we finish our job so you can take me back to that bunker of yours and we can take all the time we want?”

Dean's bright green eyes light up like a kid at Christmas as he rushes to pull his pants back on. “Fuck yeah. I'm gonna make you like me yet, sweetheart.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

[tendermiasma]

Out of curiosity, what drove you to pick Halsin as Clover’s love interest out of all the possible characters? Love your work by the way :)

Thank you so much! Baldur's Gate was barely on my radar since I didn't really know about the IP but my friend showed me a picture of Halsin and I said, "I'll play the game if you can kiss him". Well. I think they communicated what kind of person he was very well through his design because he seemed very kind, earnest, and protective with zero explanation. I'd already mostly figured out Clover's story before I started in but I was so delighted at how well they meshed. I was already biased, of course, but their fey plotlines were pure coincidence and so it just made sense. I lost my mind when Halsin started explaining haha. I LOVE the conflict of someone hunted by the fey and someone who is very close to them. They were both raised by the wild in very different ways and it's something I've loved having them explore with each other.

They both also deal with a particular kind of despair. I get the sense that Halsin became emotionally isolated from his own people after trying so hard to right something for so long, but he still had hope. What makes him waver is no longer having hope, which I saw most prevalently when we got to the city. Clover, on the other hand, is the one who digs in and crawls on, even without a light at the end of the tunnel. He doesn't expect anything, it's just what he's always done. Maybe for the spite of maybe living until tomorrow-- he doesn't know. Halsin was the first person who made him think of next Autumn. Halsin learns that despair should not be the death of persistence because the light may just be too far off to see. Clover's living proof of that. I'm not finished with the game but how Halsin deals with the horrors of trying to save everyone and everything when there are powers at work who want people to feel paralyzed and afraid and helpless is very special to me. I think their relationship, along with the events of the game, is helping him realize his true place where he can make a real difference is more grassroots than he thought. For Clover, though, Halsin can draw him out of that twilight and into a life he deserves.

I rambled I think but I hope I answered your question haha

[mqverick]

red murder || . ｡˚ ✧

mature themes, 18+

blood mentioned, consider yourselves warned

“Shower me in blood, child

Shower me in lipstick.”

·:*────────── ✮ ───────── *:·

A biblical angel. The meaningless chatter of the riches was faintly evident in the atmosphere as you locked eyes with someone, who you didn’t know at all, who had such a striking stare into, not only your weak eyes, but also your entire body. He looked like a biblical figure, an angel perhaps, but there was something about the way he stood, shoulder lazily leaned against the velvet curtain, that pegged him not to be a creature of purity.

No, he was so distinguished and poignant, that it made you forget who you even were. Despite the fact that he was the one boring into your soul, you found yourself inexplicably dependent upon the gaze he’d cast on you, as if your heart would simply get squeezed stopped if he looked away.

Captivating could be another word to describe the façade of the luscious blonde haired stranger, eyes politely stiffed into the pockets of his expensive, elegant coat, decorated by golden buttons that shone under the dim light of the room. His eyes were either gray or hazy blue; either way they drew you in dangerously, causing you to get deeply lost in their shadowy gravitation. You wondered why he was, only for the sake of it, knowing well that the chances of getting to see him outside of the gathering were close to zero. Nevertheless, your insides turned painfully up and down as he kept the eye contact strong as ever, mind twisting at the thought of what he could possibly be thinking about.

Whoever he was, you hoped dearly that he’d have no ability to read minds, otherwise you were as good as gone. You were still young and inexperienced, but that never stopped your imagination. The corners of his lips turned into a slight smirk as he finally looked away, giving you the chance to regain control over yourself and remember how it felt to breathe. Who was he?

You opted to avoid approaching him, dreading the inevitable possibility of fainting upon his aristocratic stance. You walked into the mass of the crowd, fading into the pretentious laughters and snickers, heart beating fast into your chest as you placed your gloved hand over it on your chest, hoping it’d help it get back to its steady rhythm. You found escape in a dark hallway.

You felt dizzy just by the look of a wanderer in a charity ball. You took a deep breath, squeezed your eyes shut to regain your consciousness and let your pupils blur back to their senses. Your chest heaved painfully when you caught sight of his piercing icy eyes glowing into the obscurity of the room. You need to run, a tiny voice rang in your head, but the buzzing sounds of the blood pumping right into your ears was too loud to not cover the challenging warnings of your inner conscience. Your legs stayed frozen in place, blood running cold in your throbbing veins.

He finally approached you, slowly but with steady steps. The limited light blended with his skin, which you could still barely make out as his eyes moved up and down your body. He looked abnormal once again and you wanted to scream from the top of your lungs, but something inside you prevented you from making the smallest sound. You opted for playing it nonchalant.

“Have we met?” you asked firmly, eyebrows knitting together at the soft chuckle he let out.

“I believe not, at least not yet. I’ve noticed you. From across the room you captured my attention,” the curves of his mouth went up slightly as the smirk on his face grew larger and evidently smugger. “Don’t be nervous, my love.”

“Me nervous?” you asked, voice trembling now.

“Indeed you are, no? The way you’re standing here just like you stood back in the main room, all by yourself. Legs weak, the small shake of your knees… I can see it all.” His eyes wandered down your neck, growing particularly fond of the little vein there pump your warm, sweet blood. You followed his gaze, unable to see what he was so fixated on, catching back his attention as you pulled your sleeve higher up the shoulder in a kind of discomfort that you couldn’t really explain.

“What are you?” you found yourself questioning.

Not who, but what. The name and origin of the man did not concern you as much as how he possibly managed to look so pale, yet stand alive in front of you very eyes, with such a pompous demeanor. He chuckled, still intensely gazing at the side of your neck, down to your collarbone, then back at your lips. Shivers ran down your spine, but you kept your calmness, at least on the outside. You slightly tilted your head and waited for an answer, but instead, he gave you a smile.

One that you could not read for the sake of it.

Was he enjoying holding you in the emotional state of mind that you were in that moment, while he stood barely five steps away from you? you pondered quietly in your head, but it was almost as the man in front of you could read every single thought behind that head of yours. Your heart drummed against your chest, you backed away with every small step he took closer to you.

“Don’t be frightened, my love. I mean no harm.”

The tone of his voice and newfound appearance, that you’d truly never seen in any other person before, pegged you to think otherwise. “Quit calling me that,” you gritted through your teeth.

“Fine. Maybe I do mean you a little harm.” He burst out in chuckles the second he noticed your eyes slightly widen at his statement. You were at loss of words — what was so amusing to him?

“What is it that you need from me?” you tried again, but there was nothing you could possibly elicit from him that wasn’t a snarky snicker or stomach aching smirk. Your eyes fogged with fear and an inexplicable desire for knowing him better as you watched him grin the same time your pulse quickened significantly. You took another cautionary step back. He took one forward.

“I want to give you the choice…” he said carefully upon the cell of your ear, long fingers coming up to slightly graze against the skin of your jawline. He lets the sharp edge of his metallic ring barely, just barely, follow the curve of your cheek, causing a thin, white line to form as he pressed with enough force to just see a scar forming, but not letting any blood come out of it. You couldn’t help but feel the sensation of pure bliss to the way he touched your face, even though the voice that urged you to save yourself and run was getting louder and louder by every passing second. “…That I never had. You could come with me, spend the rest of your life by my side, be the companion that I’ve longed for for years.”

Your heart was racing. You were astonished by the choice — half of a choice, you’d call it, since he hadn’t given you the second part of it yet — he’d proposed. You could feel every vein, either thick or thin, pump wildly the blood through it, until it reached up in your brain, blinding it completely from any logic you’d ever owned. “And why shall I be the companion of a man I’ve barely spoken five words to?” you replied sarcastically.

“Because I could take all the pain away. Give you a life like mine… where pain, suffering and death don’t exist. I could make you stronger, faster, smarter, give you all that the world has to offer, that you mortals never seem to seize… or even understand. You could be forever youthful. Just give yourself to me.” Your breath got suddenly stuck in your throat, a look of shock temporarily wrapping around your reddening eyes as you kept them open, momentarily forgetting how to blink.

“And what would happen if I don’t wish for that?”

He looked up, as if mockingly enough for your poor naivety, then swiftly grabbed you by the throat, your voice disappearing instantly. His fingers gripped around the sides and you felt his ring hurting into the skin, but it felt as though he’d cast some sort of spell that could not enable the sense to escape or even speak. “I could take your life away and no one would even come to find you,” he whispered gently in your ear.

Once he removed his hand from around your neck, you could finally start breathing again as the dizzying blur slowly faded away. He looked at you with anticipation, waiting for your reply.

“And how shall you ever do that? I could scream right now and have you be the one lying dead.”

“So blissfully unaware…” he mumbled softly, and like a ray of light, you heard him hiss as something sharp — the hard surface of… teeth… more specifically fangs? — threateningly bordered on the lower side of your exposed neck, which he held with his hand, tilting your head towards the wall that was across from you.

The epiphany hit you so suddenly and quickly that you had to refrain yourself from yelping, now finally out of the state of oblivion you danced around into. A vampire. A vampire, you figured, kept muttering in your hallowing brain in order to genuinely get yourself to pull out of the fanzines of what could’ve been a dreadful nightmare, when it was reality, hard, cold reality splashing into you like a bucket of freezing ice water.

“I’d rather you finish me than make me that loathsome creature of your own,” you struggled to breathe out, nevertheless the voice came out firm and dominant, to which Lestat turned a blind eye to as he moved up closer, invading your personal space and almost having you pinned against the rocky surface of the wall behind you.

“Your wish shall be my command, my child.”

The last thing that you remembered before a soul consuming cloud of darkness covered the bright ability of vision you owned was the faded blur of the vampire kneeling down, as you slowly began to lose sense and control over your own legs and brain. Lestat, as you’d found out his name was, had been sitting by your side on the maroon silky sheets of his own bed, carefully running his long, skinny fingers through your neat locks. The way the lamp on his nightstand shone made your hair look like they were going to catch on fire. The vampire hummed in pleasure as he let his eyes flutter shut for just one second, during which he only came in contact with the feel of your velvety hair that so smoothly rolled around his steady digits. A first blink, then another. You were in a room that you didn’t recognize, nor felt comfortable in. Your pupils were dilated as you awoke from the slumber, sclera pinkish to red instead of white, as if you’d been crying.

Nothing about the setting felt familiar. Your sighting soon got restored and the heart was caught inside your throat when you laid your eyes upon his face, golden hair falling on top of his shoulders, face pale — almost white — but still beautiful; like he was filled with life, as ironic as that may be. Suddenly, you were hit with all the memories that ruggedly formed into your brain before you’d fallen unconscious on him at that ball. You pulled back, your head just an inch from hitting the wall behind as he laughed amusedly.

“Wake up… I’ve waited for so long to hear you speak once more…” he spoke in a gentle whisper that almost felt like a lingering caress on your cheek, his eyes glittering in the dim light. “Wake up, my love.”

Your limbs were somewhat trembling, power of defense against him unknown, as you fought back the urge to scream from the top of your lungs, unable to prevent his next move. There was something about the way he’d sat next to you, all so calm and unbothered, you almost wished you knew what was going on in his mind behind those light blue — almost gray — eyes. It had caused a newfound sense of anxiousness for the unexpected to pit deeply into the curves of your stomach, retinas glossy and puffy as he moved his hand on top of yours. You retrieved it immediately, but the action didn’t seem to dishearten him enough to cut the physical contact with you. Instead, it encouraged him to stomp even further into your space, cold index finger lightly, almost caring, grazing the outline of your chin’s shuddering skin.

It felt rewarding for Lestat; having you in such a state of mind, helpless, completely at his mercy. Your fate depended solely upon him and him only, even if that meant you’d have to beg him to spare you. He had no hostile intentions towards you, though, just simply enjoyed the way the terror entered your body, as you fought against it.

“Don’t be afraid,” he cooed, but you snorted.

“You spoke the same words earlier and here I am, in the house of a stranger, vainly trying to gather back my senses.” The tone of your voice was still on the same line that you’d left it during the first conversation with him at the ball. If Lestat was blind, he would’ve foolishly believed you weren’t frightened by him at all, which excited him.

How was it possible that such a beautiful creature, human amongst humans, had managed to evade his attention all that time? The tip of his thumb padded the side of your jawline softly, rubbing small circles there. “You’re troubled, my dear. I must refrain from my nature if I want to have you by my side, thus you shall not be scared about my actions towards you.”

“And why such kindness, if I may ask?”

Lestat’s eyes lingered on each feature of your face as he drank in the image of you, the woman who had captivated him, as much to the character as to the looks. The hair delicately falling on your shoulders, stopping just before the curve of your breasts, which was deep enough for him to study, every detail of each curve. The fear that consumed you in that very moment, as he sat so close to you, made something in him stir, a hunger that could not and would not be denied.

“Your human nature… it fascinates me.” His grin broadened, his voice thick with desire. He slowly reached out, brushing away the hair on your soft cheek. “The way you perceive things so fiercely, even though death threatens you at every second. Mortality is a curse, my love. I would save you from it. But I have no need for your blood.”

“Oh, Lestat, but you’re a fool, I’m afraid,” you spoke with a satisfied smirk upon your lips. He tilted his head in confusion, still seemingly intrigued nevertheless. “Immortality makes a man miserable. You forget to love and live. And what is the purpose that you’ve brought me here for? Be your eternal companion? I’ll never be yours. Let the years make me your slave for as much time shall pass, but the end of my life will come and find me one day, and I’ll be free again.”

Lestat’s brows furrowed in frustration as he took your words in. “You’re such an ungrateful woman,” he gritted through his teeth, the previous sweetness of his voice now completely gone. There was a small fire burning in his eyes, but that didn’t frighten you either, seeing as you preferred him to kill you in rage rather than sugar talk you with fake desires. Your heart pounded.

“If you don’t let me go on your own terms, I’m going to scream. Kill me for it, if you must, I won’t bring any resistance. I’m giving you a choice.”

The irony of your own choice of words made Lestat’s blood boil. You, a no one human being, had the audacity to twist his words into a joke?

“Scream all you like, my dear. It would serve you no purpose.” And as soon as the sentence left his mouth, you screamed from the top of your lungs for help, eyes watering in anticipation. Lestat got up from the bed, leaned against the wall as he crossed his hands across his chest, waiting.

He watched you with his typical air of amusement as you screamed in terror. Finally, a maid entered the chamber, concern and stress written all over her tired face from the yell that had echoed all the way downstairs. Her poor French accent soon died down her lips as she asked “Ce qui s’est passé?” while looking around for any suspicious actions. Lestat took her by the throat, sinking his fangs deeply into the collarbone as he used the sharp ring on his thumb to cut a small line there open, killing her faster. The blood began to pour down the entire floor, thick, dark and warm. He looked refreshed as he pulled away, throwing her limb body onto the ground as you watched in utter fear and disgust. Not the tiniest hint of a sound was able to come out of you as you covered your mouth in shock, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your entire body felt electrified.

Lestat smiled, savoring your qualm. He came back closer to where you were sat, shaking his head in disapproval. “Look what you’ve caused now… Are you happy with yourself?” You turned to glare at him, flames shooting through your red eyes as he kept trying to hold a laugh back.

“You’re foul! That woman was not involved!”

Suddenly, his face hardened. “I told you no one would come to help you,” he spoke, standing over you, the blood of the maid dripping down his cheek, painting his clothed chest like an empty canvas. “You have no choice but to turn to me, for I am the only chance you have at survival.”

“I loathe you,” you gritted through your teeth.

Lestat couldn’t help but smile at your disdain. He approached you slowly, his eyes moving up your body and then to your neck. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he spoke once more, his voice a whisper. “Good. Use that hatred. Hate me as much as you desire. It won’t stop you from coming to me, it’ll only make the urge stronger.”

You sighed, falling back into the bed as your hands clasped tightly over your eyes, hair messy and unruly as part of you accepted that his words weren’t just a figment of imagination. Somehow, you’d found yourself deeply lost into his midwinter eyes, ebbed ever so gently with cement, accentuated every feature of his sharp characteristics, glistening like stars melted in platinum. You wanted more, just like the way he’d predicted; more of those eyes, of his life, of who and how he turned into a vampire, if he missed his mortality at all, whether or not he enjoyed poetry as much as you did…

Ravishing was a way to put it. Lestat had wrapped you helplessly around his angelic — or was it even demonic? — charm, pulling you in further and further just like core electrons are tightly bound to the nucleus. You wished to escape from the invisible grasp, but you couldn’t.

“Do you miss your mortality, Lestat?” you asked out of nowhere and he looked a bit taken aback by your choice of question. Nevertheless, he came and sat back by your side on the bed, allowing himself to admire the way the silky fabric of your dress had fallen just a tad down your smooth shoulders.

“At times I do…” he spoke without hesitating, his voice a gentle, almost scared, murmur as his eyes fell to the ground. “There are times when I yearn for the sensation of being human once more. I miss the sense of wonder and discovery that comes with being mortal, and the feeling of truly experiencing life for the first time...” He looked back up at you in front of him a faint smile curling on his lips. “You remind me of that feeling, my love. That is why I chose you.”

You sighed in defeat and despair. There was no possible way out of this, you reckoned, just needed to find the will and strength to make amends with what the future held for you.

───

The following night, you allowed him to dress you up in the prettiest dress you’d ever laid upon your body. The burgundy colour and the rich, but delicate fabric fell down your curves so harmoniously that Lestat looked mesmerized by the way it draped over you. He’d complimented your figure as lovely and even though the certain choice of words had given your mind a little dizzy spin, you’d shown zero reaction to him. Instead, you followed him, arm strictly wrapped around his own as you strolled down the dark paths, before he opened the door to a ravishing ball for you. The memories came crashing down like a violent wave of déjà vu, that you so desperately wanted to wash off your mind.

Ironically enough, with your arms entangled, you felt some inexplicable sort of safety. You didn’t recognize any of the people there, but Lestat had promised you a fancy night out, just for the sake of it — and who were you to say no? He narrated the background of the marquess, who was sat royally in the middle of the main hall, two young male servants on each side of where her chair was placed, laughing politely along with her.

“See her? That’s the widow St. Clair. She had that young fop murder her husband,” he whispered lowly into your ear, causing the small hairs on the back of your neck to tingle. You gave him a strange and unconvinced look.

“How dare you speak such words of felony?”

“I can read her thoughts,” Lestat’s voice rang clear, that same soft murmur filling his throat. He looked at you with a playful grin; he enjoyed watching your expressions as you came into realization of the extent of his abilities. He also noticed your sudden freeze, and the corners of his lips broadened. “The thoughts run deep inside a mortal’s mind. They’re so easy to read, and so tempting to listen to,” he whispered. His voice was soft, sensual as he came even closer to you...

“And… and you’ve invaded my thoughts already, I shall presume?” You didn’t need an answer to your own question, already confidently aware of what his reply would be. “What am I thinking of?”

His tone was gentle as his own thoughts wandered inside of your mind, listening to the sounds of your consciousness and the things you thought of. “You’re wondering why I’m even bringing you to such a social gathering. You’re contemplating a way to get out of it... but you’re also secretly curious as to what kind of people will be attending such an event,” he leaned into your ear, his breath coming out warm against your skin. “You’re scared, my love. I can hear your heart accelerating in your chest. The faint sounds of your mind wandering into unknown territory.”

Your cheeks grew red and the saliva barely made it past your throat as it slithered down the length of it in a painful manner. He’d read you like an open book and you didn’t even have to speak a word out loud for him to come to said assumption. It indeed terrified you; how he’d been able to invade the privacy of your own mind, how you weren’t and would never be able to stop him from doing such thing, simply because the desire to stay in peace was beyond your power.

Lestat let a small smirk cross over his face as you blushed. He had found it was rather humorous how he could always seem to have this effect on you. “Don’t be shocked. It’s a trick I’ve learned over my years as a vampire. It’s… become something I hold no control over; if I focus on one person too long, I can hear the innermost secrets of their mind, their desires… their sins.”

“Their desires, you say…?”

You couldn’t help the question when it flew out of your mouth, just like a young child yearning for knowledge of its world. Lestat smirked.

“Yes. Even their most intimate desires... it’s quite intriguing to see the depths of the mortal realm.”

“I want to know about your desires, in that case.”

“Is that so?” his low voice was inviting, close to seductive, you beckoned. His eyes momentarily took a glance at your long legs and the way the dress fell over them, before you spoke again.

“It’s only fair since you know my own ones, already. And don’t even dare deny such thing, I know for a fact that you’ve done it.”

“How perceptive of you, my beloved,” Lestat’s voice was still a soft whisper, tracing the outline of the call of your ear, and he stepped even closer to your side. His breath hitched slightly as he took in the scent of your skin, your femininity. His eyes traced down to your lips again, and his own desires came to life. “At this moment, my desires are simple... they include the two of us alone… together... no one else.”

“No one else…” you repeated with a fragile tone.

The vampire’s voice lowered as his eyes wandered down your body once more, taking in the way your chest rose and fell with your short breaths. “I imagine the two of us without the noise of the crowded ballroom. The way that no one else is there to hinder us… our bodies would merge together, with no one around to intrude as, you and I… free to do as we please.” His mind wandered to the possibility of you alone in his room, of what you could do.

“Oh?” you encouraged him to go on, as if less than twenty four hours ago, you hadn’t uttered out that you loathed him. “You’re always so poetic when you want to end up in bed with someone, Lestat? Speak more to me with what we’d do. In this volume of voice… these words…”

You were undoubtedly washed with a sense of newfound arousal for the vampire and it didn’t escape his attention. His voice had grown raspy with the words that poured from him, a certain type of hunger coming over him as you listened.

“I can’t help but wonder about your sudden change of heart,” he chuckled with a smirk.

“I’m weak at this very moment and I’m letting you take advantage of it. We’ll go back to your manor and we’ll have all the privacy we need… we can spend the night alone, together, as you said.”

His eyes were locked on yours as his mind continued to drift away into those lustful desires. He craved you, wanted you in a way that not even his vampire nature could fully comprehend. Your hands curled around the lapels of his silky shirt and you then run your fingers all the way down his body until they clasped around his own hands.

You couldn’t tell how the time passed, finding yourself from one moment to another; from a fancy, loud ballroom, to a oaken, hand carved door that led into a lavish French-furnished bedroom, which you had —oh, so well — gotten used to. There were heavy shades on the window, an almost magical mosquito netting falling across the sides from the bed, like golden tears. You looked around for a moment, trying to help the blur of your thoughts to comprehend that this was beyond a dream reality, that it was life.

Life, as ironic as it might seem.

Lestat walked behind you as he shut the door, step light and slow. He took his time with tracing the outline of your shoulder blades that the dress allowed you to reveal, his index finger gracefully teasing the skin with only the physical contact of the digit and the bit of the nail that stuck out. His breath hitched when his hand travelled lower on your back, right hand coming up to twirl the tip of the zipper playfully, silently asking you for permission for his next move. He’d ordered all the staff to leave, so that when you’d entered through the mansion’s doors, he’d locked it behind them.

He could see you hesitate, not that he cared much about it. It was certain to Lestat that once the silence fell in, you’d come to be too focused on your intimacy with him to think back on your own emotional barriers. His assumptions proved true, once he quickly unzipped your dress and you looked back at him from over your shoulder with parted lips, not complaining, not asking him to stop. His eyes were almost sparkling as the candle light flickered on your pale face.

“Lestat…” you hummed, mostly as a plead.

But he didn’t say anything back, just picked you up in his arms, laid you upon the velvet sheets of his bed and getting on top, his gaze captivating and unnerving, head tilting to the side so that he could plant a trail of wet, sensual kisses all the way down to your neck, his tongue resting against the veins that popped out as you stretched your head backward for better access.

Lestat’s body was pressed flushed against yours, his now wrinkled shirt fallen down midway through his shoulders, revealing his bare chest as his mouth travelled further down, his left hand gripping around your neck. He moaned softly as he tasted the sweet scent of your skin, the feeling of your pulse rising against his own body.

“Please,” his voice was an alluring murmur as he spoke, his thumb stroking your collarbone. He could feel the desire growing within him to posses you, take you as his own. “Let me have you.”

───

You reckoned it was still nighttime when your heavy eyelids began fluttering open. You recognised the sound of a soft snore next to your ear, a pair of still wet and plump lips caressing and tickling the spot right below your earlobe. You slightly rose from the bed, careful as to not disturb Lestat and rubbed your eyes, but you instantly regretted the action, seeing as the chilly weather trapped inside the huge room caused your underdressed body to shiver. You brought the covers close to your chin and appreciated Lestat’s features. His body next to you didn’t offer much warmth, but the just feeling of having him there in such state had your cheeks matching a crimson shade of red. You hummed in pleasure.

You didn’t mean to wake him, nor made any sound to achieve such thing, but somehow, he’d half-opened his stunning eyes. You were still afraid of him, even if it was somewhat there. He smiled unintentionally when he acknowledged your presence, but didn’t say a word.

“This… it doesn’t have to mean anything,” you were quick to speak in a shaky voice. He only offered you a chuckle in response, bringing a hand out to brush the hair that fell into your face back behind your cheek, hugging you closer to his body. You wanted to attempt to feel his heartbeat, but somehow, your own was loud enough to cover any other possibly existing sound.

Lestat pulled the blanket over the two of you and rested the side of his face on top of your head as he laid a gentle kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes again and he leaned closer, his lips hovering just above yours with his breath being warm and inviting, as if beckoning you to merge with his own body. “Dream of me, my darling.”

───

You poured the second steep and drank out of the fine china cup, noticing the fragrance of the tea. Sweet Vietnamese cinnamon with a hint of floral honeysuckle that began to wrap around your head like the ‘I rivali di se stessi’. You’d really outdone yourself with the tea, finding the variety of herbs and scents in Lestat’s kitchen a joyful surprise to kill time with. You’d woken to the sound of what was almost identical to the pitter patter of sensuous rain on the windowsill. You saw him sitting at the huge, shining black instrument that looked like the sky on a cool summer night, coaxing impossibly soothing and amazing melodies from it. Lestat seemed lost as his fingers flew over the keys like swallows darting in a pond for fish. You sat on the couch across from him and sipped your tea with tired eyes.

“Why’d you stop?” you questioned once the sound was gone and his fingers were just resting on top of his knees. His breath was lost, too.

“You want me to keep playing?” His voice was hoarse and rasped, and he seemed to have lost some of the energy he had when you’d first met him. You pondered the reason, but not out loud.

“Sure.” He began to play again, the same slow, sad melody. You couldn’t help but wonder if it reflected the way he’d been feeling inside. As his fingers strolled through the keys, he looked at you from time to time, almost as if he wanted to say something, but his words always failed him before. “…When did you learn to play?”

“Hm?” He looked away from the piano briefly, his hand not stopping from playing. He didn’t seem to expect the question however, and so he felt a bit taken back. He began to speak slowly, as if he had to think about his answer a little. “My mother taught me how to play. She was a musician and she was very talented. She was a pianist...” He paused to think again. He didn’t want you to know much about his past, especially his human years, but he didn’t want you to think that he was just trying to change the subject either.

“Oh?”

“Yes…” Lestat replied softly, his tone remained steady. “She taught me how to play music, but also helped me understand it. It’s a form of… expressing, even if you can’t physically say it, you play it. Play with your heart, your emotions.”

His hand continued under the same melody, although his voice felt a bit more nostalgic. Still, you watched intently, your eyes following his every movement slightly from over the cup you held against your lips. You’d taken a fancy to the way he spoke sometimes, to his life and past.

“Did you have any family? I mean, besides your mom…” You knew the question was wrong and uncalled for, but it felt as though a burden leapt out from your body as it left your curious mouth. Lestat removed his hands from the instrument and got up. The heart trapped against your ribs was hammering, unable to know what feelings and memories of his you’d just triggered.

“Family?”

“Yeah,” you assured him. He didn’t seem any kin to reply to your question, however. “I’ve run away from mine. Mother held a knife to my throat every time settling down was mentioned amongst the family dinners. Said I’m old enough to convert to a church and become a nun. I don’t particularly care for marriage or any other form of settling down for that matter. I’ve got a free spirit that won’t rest until I travel in every inch of the world.”

You noticed him smile a little, weakly. But you could see him hesitating, hold back, suddenly all stiff. You asked him again about his family, but the only thing you managed to get out of him was a defeated murmur about the story having faded along the line, that it didn’t matter anymore.

“My story is much similar to yours… but it’s a long one, and it’s mostly full of unpleasant memories,” he said softly. Lestat could see in your gaze an unspoken desire to know more of his past, but he couldn’t allow you to witness the ugly side of him just yet. You urged to push him to reveal more, nevertheless, genuinely interested and curious.

“You ran away too?”

“It’s none of your concern to know that.”

His tone raised, frustrated now. You’d hit a nerve, it was certain, but would you risk to upscale his mood, whose limitations you hadn’t explored yet? You simply stared at him as he walked towards the heavy, red and golden curtains, turning his back at you. It wasn’t hard to realise that he couldn’t bare look at you, that if he did, you might’ve taken advantage of reading the raw emotions across his features, a curse that followed him through his early teenage years, up until for all eternity — as the future held to him.

“Whose concern is it then? I don’t see anyone else trapped in this prison of a manor!”

“Prison... prison?!” Lestat heard the comment, and it caused him to feel anger stir inside of him. You didn’t know what a prison felt like, this estate and this mansion was... “This estate is not a prison,” he said harshly, before yanking you by the arm and dragging you across the room in swift movements, all the way down to the basement.

The door that opened to the cold and damp room was torn down, old enough that the woody material on it had lost its brownish colour. Instead, it was a light beige, spider webs all over the rusty metal mechanisms that held it together. He pushed you inside, throwing you with force that caused you to miss your step and fall flat painfully against the dusty ground. He slammed the door behind you as he got in, teeth gritted.

“What the devil is going on inside your sick mind?!” you screamed, getting up back on your legs as you dusted your dress off. Your eyes matched his, sharp, snapping as they glowered.

“You want to live in a prison, yes? Have my blessing in that case,” he responded. You’d insulted him, the place he owned and grew himself up in. He held the door handle shut as he leaned against the door with his back facing it, patiently awaiting for your pleads to let you go. You understood that he wasn’t planning on freeing you any time soon and the anger bubbled within your nerves, matches starting fires in your head and heart. You didn’t mean the words that came out of you in the unfortunate moment, or maybe you did, to some extent, but it still hurt.

“I understand now why the memories of your family must be so unpleasant. No one would want a child like you, so arrogant and selfish. I pity the poor people!” Each letter escaped from your lips with poisonous stabs in Lestat’s heart.

He was stunned as the words reached his ears, hadn’t expected you to resort yourself in such a low place. “Is that so?” He needed to stay mad, slap you, punish you — do something, but all he could bring himself to dwell on were his years as a child, a human. He stared at you, reminiscing every detail, getting to live in his mortal body and soul for one last time as you speechlessly stared back at him, not finding the courage to apologize for the cruel level you’d stooped to. He heard you mutter his name as he almost broke the door in attempt of pushing it open, disappearing into his bedroom and locking himself inside. Ironically, his coffin felt freezing that night.

Lestat had lost the sense of understanding the climate around him a few centuries ago.

───

The next day passed and you still felt shaken. Lestat, with his usual tenderness toward you, had disappeared. Hadn’t spoken one word to you, not even walked in the same direction as you. It was weird how he’d managed such thing, seeing as you both lived under the same roof. The bed of one of the many guest rooms you’d chosen to hid into had been a ghost before your legs. It felt uncomfortable, unwelcoming, unable to hold your presence on it. You spent the night before scribbling drawings on a yellow paper you’d found in one of the nightstand’s drawers, not knowing what else to do with yourself. Twenty four hours being alone in a house with at least more than one lonely person. You took a deep breath and decided you needed to find him, see how he was doing. You’d softened towards him, it seemed, in less time than you’d expected. Your brain was still terrified to accept the idea of it, but the aching inside of your heart didn’t give it any other option.

You walked outside of the room and searched for him everywhere. Yvette told you she’d last seen him go outside. Back upstairs, you heard the soft sound of water running into the main bathroom and curiously walked over, leaning against the door just for a peak. Your mouth dropped and you shrieked loudly in unexpected terror. The bathtub went by the shade of an almost black red, thick, even if it merged with the water. There were bubbles covering the top and Lestat smirking next to it as he took a step closer.

“I prepared a bath for you,” he announced with a smile. You lost your voice along with every other possible function of your system. Lestat looked for a moment, the blood in it did fill him with a certain hunger that he had not felt before. He could almost taste it; the thought of you coming into the tub was almost alluring, he had imagined how you would look in that water... and how you would taste inside that water... he was salivating.

“W—Wh…What did you do?” you asked, your voice trembling, horrified at the freak show.

“What do you think I did?” his words came out with a cold tone, as he stared at you. His face was a bit grim, yet still his eyes were detailed with a certain lust. “You’re going to ask why, I assume. Why did I kill them…? Or why did I bring their blood here?” his voice was full of sarcasm as he spoke, he was making you more confused and scared, but this time, he was not planning to back down to your puzzled feelings and expressions.

“Both… Both!” You felt your knees weaken as you crumbled to the door behind you, the smell of the blood causing vomit to erupt in your throat. He looked at you as you collapsed upon the doorframe, the sound of your gag causing him to smirk a little. You had successfully lost all sense of control, and that was beyond pleasing to him.

“I killed them because I needed fresh blood,” he said slowly, he would not tell you anything more. A step closer, then a hand pointing at the tub, which haunted your soul. “Get in the tub.”

“No. No… no — no — you can’t… you can’t…!” You couldn’t speak. Your eyes were teary and your face had paled and he looked happier than ever. Lestat didn’t want to hear your plead, he didn’t want to hear you beg for mercy. His desire was taking over him, and now that he had killed a few poor slaves in the woods and the bloodlust inside of him had grown in intensity.

“You don’t have a choice.” He then walked towards you, his movements slow and precise. He wished to take what he wanted from you, no matter what you’d do to convince him otherwise. You’d cut deep with your previous words, which never went unnoticed nor forgotten. “I want to shower you in blood, my child.”

His eyes had grown a bright crimson as he got close to you, pulling you into his grip. You thought you were about to pass out, your body limped down on the floor, unable to move or resist. Lestat could feel your weakness, your fragility as you leaned against the door. One more pull and he began to drag you away from the wooden entry. You got more and more ill as the smell got stronger, your mind buzzing as his devious laughter echoed in it. Your throat was closing up and the need for air was growing more immense with your every weak breath. “Why are… you doing this?” you mustered with a middle pause.

“Because of what you said.”

“B-Because of what I… Leave! Let me go!”

You were kicking the air, panicking, trying to run away from him in desperate attempts. He smiled, twirled around your helpless body and hummed the melody of an old Italian song. The tears fell from your eyes artistically, in a way that they almost resembled the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise, your hands clutching on every item possible for a steady grasp that would still his intentions, free you from them. As your ultimate option, you resulted in begging with choked sobs. The pleads caught him off guard.

He couldn’t tell if it was truly fear, or a ploy of some kind to get out of the situation. He was hesitant, yet still had a choice to make, and the limitations highlighted the accident of choosing poorly due to the temper of the moment. He could feel the moisture dripping from your eyes as you begged him not to do this to you, but the hunger for the fright your vocal chords held was still there, distracting him from judging correctly.

“You mocked me…” there was still a hint of anger in his voice, but not the overwhelming kind. In fact, he felt more collected than ever. You’d brought this situation upon yourself…

“This… Lestat, please, please, I want this to end, please…” you sobbed into the comfort of his neck, your arms wrapping around him as they trembled. Lestat could feel you shaking against him as you sobbed. The intensity that he had felt was now fading, a little empathy rising towards you for the first time since you’d insulted him. Your fear made you seem so much weaker, so much more vulnerable, and it made his heart hurt as he looked at you, unfamiliar with this side of you.

He couldn’t stay mad. And he had to let you go.

“You’re making it difficult for me to keep you safe. As much from others as from myself...” he said softly as he loosened his grip on you, his hand holding your arm now was a soft and gentle one. It was not the grip of a killer, it was the grip of a lover. Yet his eyes were a reminder, still burning.

“This… it’s a nightmare, right? None of this happened. The tub… it’s just a nightmare?” you asked him, deluding yourself into a lie that you believed would calm you down. You were still on the verge of passing out, your eyes heavy and swollen as they blinked the remaining tears away.

“Yes... it’s just a horrible nightmare,” he spoke softly as he kept holding onto you, he wanted to lie to you if that meant that you’d start feeling safe around him again, comfortable, that you’d forget all about the tub. He could tell you were still scared, even if you had relaxed a little. He would not allow you to be afraid, did not want you to remember any of this. He only wanted you to remember being safe in his arms.

“I’ll wake up to your bed tomorrow?”

“Indeed.”

“I need to go to your bed…” you murmured under your breath, your eyes half-lidded as he nodded and took you in his arms. Your head rested on top of his shoulder and you couldn’t really tell what was happening around you; what was real and what was not, but in your mind, it mattered no more than a useless piece of information. Lestat carried you all the way to his bedroom and helped you on the bed, as he removed a few layers of clothes of his own. You found the warmth of the scent this particular bed held somewhat comforting, that you weren’t alone anymore. He came up back by your side and stroked your hair as he kept whispering in French, a language that even though you spoke less than fluently, always seemed tricky to understand.

“Tu as un beau cou.” The poorly spoken words grazed just the outline of his vampire fangs as they left his mouth and embraced your throat. Lestat leaned down just a little to place a lingering kiss on the side of your neck, right were your pulse was beating — throbbing — in a way of letting you know that he’d provide you with eternal safety; even from his own self. He cherished the satisfied tiny moans you let out as his promises hugged your soul and sighed. Even with your presence around, his room still felt cold and for a moment he allowed himself to wonder if it’d feel the same way in case he were a human.

“Je sais, mon amour,” he heard you sheepishly reassure him, not understanding in the slightest how you’d managed to do such thing in all your tiredness and corpse-like state. He was the one with the ability to read the mortal mind, yet it seemed like you’d known every inch and depth of his darkest and deepest thoughts since the moment you laid eyes on him. And oh, how he wished you hadn’t. Because Lestat refused love.

He refused the idea of love, thought of it as something miserable and pessimistic, because how could anyone devote themselves so much to a person to forget their own problems and beliefs. Poems, philosophy, theatre, music; they all refused love in a way. The destructive kind.

But his head tilted to the side as he sat in his coffin, watching you descend to sleep, and suddenly he was gone from the world, helpless.

───

“I want to breathe fresh air. Your house is suffocating me,” you’d said to him only a few days later after finding the strength to look him back directly in the eyes like you weren’t afraid. He posed as a danger to you now, after the cruelty with the tub, but you were superior to any of his schemes. The walls suffocated you seeing as he barely let you walk around the town, afraid that he’d lose you, that you’d run away from him.

The sky that night was tranquil. The dark canvas of the it was adorned with countless points of light, like shimmering diamonds scattered across a velvet cloth. The celestial bodies twinkled and glimmered, casting a soft, ethereal glow that captivated the imagination. You always loved to watch the stars, to admire the constellations.

And that night, Lestat was in a good mood, so even though his reply had been hesitant at first, he’d eventually let you do as you wished. With his hand secured around yours, he’d promised to take you to his favourite place, his hiding spot as a newly discovered vampire, his memory founder. You strolled around the town, walked for what felt like several minutes. The setting was unfamiliar and the thought of getting lost crossed your anxious mind for a split second, but given to the concentration on his face, he seemed to know exactly the roads he strolled through. There was a small forest, one you’d never stumbled upon in all the years you spent in Louisiana, even though you were certain you’d walked past it at least once. The air was chilly and there were no others around in kilometers; just you and Lestat. It was the type of place that many nobles would avoid. It reminded you of the haunted forests your mother would read to you about in the night tales to put you to sleep.

“Here we are. Do you like it?” he asked as he let go of your hand, intertwining his fingers together as his hands fell over his crotch. He looked at you.

“Yeah, a lot actually. How come I’ve never known about this place before?”

“Well…” Lestat explained, “It’s an unnoticed spot. Not many appreciate its natural beauty,” he spoke softly, as he looked around the forest once again. “They’re afraid to come here at night, and they try not to pass by during day as well. I don’t know why, if that’s your next question.”

“And how did you discover it?”

“I used to come here often.” There was no use in hiding that answer. He had been a child who ran away, and during those years where he explored this vast estate, he had found this forest. He didn’t know it was haunted — according to the superstitions — back then, but even now when he was aware of it, he would come here often. He had not left for such a long time. It felt like home.

“By yourself?”

“Yes…” He knew the answer was pathetic, that it gave his longtime loneliness away, and he regretted admitting it out loud. “You know, we’re similar in more ways than just our past.”

Your eyebrow cocked in confusion. “And how is that, may I ask?” Lestat paused for a moment, as your question made him think. That part hadn’t always been so hard when it crossed his mind many nights during sleep. Perhaps it had been the fact that he didn’t have to look at you when he thought about his past, but... now he had to.

“We ran away from it. We both know what it’s like to be alone.”

“But we’re not alone anymore, isn’t that what you’re trying to say?” you listed his words before he could do it himself, your voice weary, tears burning in your eyes, even though you understood that he emotional pressure was more overwhelming for him than for you. He’d opened up to you, just a hint of it, you realised, but you couldn’t know why and it pained you.

“We’re not... I...” he grew unsure, unable to finish.

“I want to watch the stars.”

Lestat’s mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but remained in that position, looking at you silently, surprised. “We can watch the stars,” he agreed and took you to a more open spot in the forest. It was clearer and there were less trees that would potentially block the view of the sky. The both of you sat on the grass, legs crossed as your eyes focused on the moon.

“Do you have a favourite constellation?”

Lestat thought about it for a moment. there were many stars he had been drawn to over the years, and he had studied quite a lot of them as well. But perhaps, there was one that particularly stood out to him. “Scorpio,” he said softly as he tried to look to see where it was in the night sky. His gaze was focused towards the stars as you spoke again.

“Scorpio? How so?”

“It stung Orion to death. I do the same with humans in reality. Well, drain them to death…” he paused and laid back on the grass, letting his body become one with the somber pasture. His eyes still stood out, even as the pitch black sky made it really hard to find your own step around. “It’s also one of the first constellations I studied.”

You gave him a little smile and carefully positioned yourself next to him on the ground. “I didn’t know astrology intrigued you.” Indeed it felt odd to listen to him speak about his interests, however it created an invisible bond between you. For once, he looked at the stars with company. He wanted to take your hand, show you that this was something he’d never gotten with anyone else, cherish the moment. You felt him do so, eventually, and tried not to react as if to give yourself away. “Can you guess my favourite constellation? But you shan’t read my thoughts.”

“Mm…” he considered. “Cassiopeia.”

“You read my mind,” you simply stated.

“I guessed.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t.” He turned to look at you and so did you. He was holding back from something, it was evident in the way his Adam’s apple bobbled, the way his eyes had a bizarre shine in them that they’d only get before he was about to ask you a question he knew unlocked more and more of him to you, which he both allowed and feared.

“Go ahead,” you encouraged, even though he hadn’t asked anything at all.

“Do you believe in fate at all?” Fate, as in, everything was meant to be in a way. He couldn’t help but think of the idea as you laid down together, in the presence of the dark blue sky.

“I think fate is misery. I don’t understand why it’s got to punish us for things we didn’t even ask for to happen. It kills us all in the mind. But I do believe in it, nonetheless. We’re all its slaves.”

“Why do you believe in it if it tortures you so much?”

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you ask yourself the same question? Sometimes we don’t have an answer, we just let things be the way they are.”

“I think that what you call misery shaped me.”

“So you’re miserable, then?”

Lestat frowned as the words came from your lips. “No,” he spoke, his tone seemed to grow a bit frustrated. “I most certainly am not miserable, but I just think…” he sighed harshly, he knew what he was trying to say — he just couldn’t explain it properly — and maybe the way you stared at him, waiting in so much anticipation made him lose his track of thoughts along with his own words.

“You want to go back inside?”

He nodded and got up, upset over the fact that the time had been cut off so shortly. He felt strangely warm, as if he’d recently fed enough to cause the blood run through his veins, and he wondered if you’d make him feel that way every time you gave him the slightest hint of attention.

The night was deep and his house hollow as you stepped into it, ready to take your separate ways in the rooms, but the boldness coursed through your neurons as you asked him if he’d like to have a sip of wine first. No, he replied, he wouldn’t wish for one, because wine no longer got him drunk or offered him any form of careless enjoyment. You just sat by yourself near his piano and grazed your fingers over the last four keys. A messy, silent melody came out and for a second, it echoed over the entire room, one, two, three times. You wondered if it symbolized how lonely Lestat was.

It felt gut wrenching, even though you knew he was unpleasant, seeing him have no one in his life. Seeing him know so much about the stars and have no soul to talk with about it. You went into your room and changed into a nightgown. The breeze from the windows made it feathery against your body as it flew a little under your arms when you entered Lestat’s bedroom without making the slightest noise. His coffin was covered; he’d fallen asleep perhaps. You seized the opportunity to give his room a sharper notice.

There was a neat black vase with golden details placed on the dresser, it even had a rose in it. A rose that had lost its bloom; it was just wrinkled, a little yellow—growing to brownish—near the edges, all dried up, dusty and ready to crumble. A soft touch on the back of your neck caused you to gasp as you turned around only to realise it was Lestat, seemingly paler than usual, for a reason.

“Did I disturb your peace of going through my stuff?” he asked, but his voice didn’t sound mad.

“I don’t want to sleep just yet.”

His eyes followed yours until they fell to the rose you were examining. With a swift twirl, he brought it around his fingers and held it in front of your face. “Pour toi, ma chérie,” he whispered with a smirk as you took it and placed it over your chest, right where your heart was still steadily beating.

“Pourquoi le gardes-tu encore? C’est pourri.”

A disheartening sigh followed by a slight shrug of his exposed shoulders. “It symbolizes a lot.”

“Like what?” you persisted. Lestat took the rose from you and rubbed it between his palms as it turned from a dead flower to dried up powder, piled up in a tiny hill on the rug. You couldn’t understand his sudden burst, the frustration within him, but you were very aware of the fact that even the slightly wronged word could snap him. He didn’t reply to the question, either, just paced forward until he reached the bed. You felt the rest of the world move in front of your very eyes in a sped up warp, you laid right below his body, unable to move in resistance. How he got you in that position was beyond your brain to comprehend and for a split second, you wished to scream, but then remembered.

Lestat lowered his semi-opened mouth right above the vein in the spot he’d first noticed back at the ball, right there, an inch upper than the collarbone, pulsing and pounding in such a sweet way that he was unable to resist the image, how it’d taste like if only he allowed his sharp fangs sink in it, have the dark red blood make a mess out of his mouth, feel the nectar drip on the skin, the tongue. Something about it was so romantic, so deep for him, but he couldn’t do it.

“Laisse-moi faire de toi un vampire, mon amour. Laisse-moi t’offrir la vie d’un Dieu,” he murmured into the side of your neck as he placed the most tender and fragile wet kisses upon it, it was the closest he could get to his request anyway.

“No, Lestat, leave!” you panicked, instantly denying. He was under control, or maybe he wasn’t, but taming the lust that grew in him wasn’t such a difficult task, you’d discovered.

“S’il te plaît,” he pleaded, stripping the sleeve of your clothing down your shoulder with his thumb. He was trying to avoid the conversation you so desperately wanted to have about his past, knew that if he tried seducing you, you’d forget all about it and either end up in bed with him or run off scared. Either way it was working. The smirk was displayed proudly across his lips, his breath smelled like a mixture of an expensive fruit based alcoholic beverage and rosemary. You couldn’t tell how your brain functioned at that moment, as Lestat rose closer to your face and stared at your lips, wetting his own with his flushed tongue. He teased you, leaned down as if to kiss you but pulled away the very centimeter his lips were to touch yours and moaned lowly, almost like a ghost of a whisper. He pressed his thumb on your neck and held you tight, then bent down again.

He drew closer, and for a moment, it almost seemed as if you had pulled away. You staring at him with your boring common eyes, nothing compared to his, and then his lips enclosed on yours; soft yet immersive, gentle yet powerful all the same. All there was was the two of you, or one of you, rather, and all he could feel was you.

“Tu ferais mieux de me tuer,” you whinged as his teeth tugged softly at your lower lip in his motion to pull away. His breath got caught as he cocked his head to the side, eyes still lustful and hot. “Kill me, Lestat, since you can’t have me the way you want me to. Kill me like you promised once.”

“I didn’t—didn’t promise anything like that,” he stuttered while kissing your clothed cleavage.

“But I ask for death. Otherwise we shall be this way always, imprisoned in the hope of ‘what if’.”

Lestat stared at you, smiling, becoming a hazy dreamlike vision, then hyperclear. “Ah, but the price is high,” he laughed, sinking back into the scent of your body passionately, wanting to become one with it. You were serious, in a way, and that he knew, but even the slightest thought of staring at your gray corpse would kill him internally for all eternity. He couldn’t possibly…

“We could be both covered in blood,” you suggested again in a strangled moan. You felt his teeth against your skin, he smiled at the dumb images you had to offer in order to wrap him around the strong spell of undeniable temptation.

“You could be mine forever,” he insisted.

“You’re losing me already, Lestat,” you whispered, but he was too caught up in undressing you to hear. Just a few more months, you promised to yourself as you gave in the pleasure of the night.

───

Lipstick, you found, was how falling in love felt.

Starts off in a smooth surface, full of vibrance and colour, but eventually it comes to an end, either that is natural and non-bumpy, simply finishing because there’s nothing more to it except a few smudges—remainings—on the lid that you can’t get rid of, or it breaks in half, violently, with roughness, tears, anger. Just like when you apply lipstick and the bar becomes too soft to stay on.

Lestat had been your lipstick kind of love.

Except you never knew whether you actually truly loved him or if it was the illusion of him that had you so wanderlust and captivated to him. Months had passed, you’d stayed by his side through all the fights, all the murders that followed in his need to feed, the broken glasses and frames. He always ended up showing a bit more to his fragility after every rage, the stronger, the more. He’d grown to be an open book to you, attached, unable to let go, afraid. Vampires could love. And each human sense was triple as intense for a vampire, so when Lestat fell in love, he devoted himself to it completely, loved hard and immensely, never held back or restrained his emotions. Of course, he never said it out loud.

It had been a while since he’d had someone, a person, a real person to hold on to, to caress their hair at night, to whisper sweet nothings to, to just feel like he can be free with and love deliberately.

Nights were so deep and slow, the stars faded away every time his heart beat faster for you. A vampire could only cry once, he remembered he’d once been told (by whom was unimportant).

You were done, you decided. Had suffocated enough, had cut yourself from the world for him and that was the end of it. You had grown rather fond of him, enjoyed having him around, loved kissing him and talking to him, even fighting with him had become familiar, almost in the dream of being a family with him. You saw him sitting over the piano, contemplating. He raised his eyes at you once found around your presence and smiled. You motioned him not to get up and instead dragged your feet exhaustively towards his side, bringing a hand over his cheek, cupping it softly one last time as he obliviously leaned against it.

“You look handsome tonight, Lestat,” you said.

Indeed, he was impeccably dressed, just like always, in such royal clothes, each layer holding a different peel of his personality. Every feature of his face was smooth and calm, bright and pale at the same time, but the surface felt like a fresh painting; exquisite and vulnerable to any touch. It was probably the only time you’d ever seen him gift you with such a genuine, heartwarming smile.

“I’ve been wanting… dreaming of telling you something. For a long time now, I fear,” he began the moment you removed your palm from his face and instead placed it over his hands in his lap. His fingers found yours immediately and interlocked quickly, excitedly. It broke your heart.

“I’m leaving,” you announced harshly and suddenly his thumbs froze against the top of your hands, which he dropped. He felt lightning crackle through his veins and time slowed down. Your stomach had lost no time in twisting into knots, but you put on a façade that said otherwise, showed you off as strong and determined, cold, hollow to any emotion.

He stilled and looked at you with his jaw agape, mouth quivering. You weren’t just saying it, you meant it. You were doing it—he was losing you. Lestat felt his heart clench around nothing at all.

“Have I done something? I’ll give it to you, whatever it is that you need, I promise.”

His hands were now catching yours again, this time in utter desperation, a form to plead and beg. Your chest heaved as you noticed the corners of his eyes well up, retina glossy and wet, as though… no, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—waste his only chance to let the tears go down, because he was sure that whatever he did, he’d fix, there was a way, he knew it, he was sure of it. He’d offered you so many things, for God’s sake! A house, food, clothes, safety, his trust and love, and you were throwing it all away, like you hadn’t stolen his soul and merged it with yours to become one, like you hadn’t reminded him what it felt to be alive again, after centuries of suffering eternity. Because you had been right when you said to him that eternity kills; it slaughters the purity of the heart, fights against hope. It forces you to be alone as you watch everyone you love perish. And Lestat had been there, still was, would always be.

“I told you, Lestat. I’m not your slave. And I can’t do this anymore, I can’t stay here… it’s killing me. And don’t you—don’t you—dare say anything foolish about how you feel about me,” you threatened through trembling lips, fighting back tears the same way he was, except you didn’t know how long you could put up with the pain.

“You all leave me!” he yelled as he got up from his seat, covering his face with his hands as he moved in circles. “You leave me when I need you the most, you want me dead! All of you!” In his rage, Lestat raised his fist and shattered the marble vase that sat on the coffee table next to the instrument, pieces falling everywhere all over the floor, sounding exactly like the way his heart was breaking. And there it was; the first tear.

It fell from his face in a rush, violently hitting the cold ground, burning his cheek on its way down. His only cry, his only pain, all out in the open as he saw his world come crashing down. And what broke him the most was the look on your face, the urge you felt to remain nonchalant, though. Like your heart wasn’t ripping in half either, like you wouldn’t desire him, love him, give him a chance. Like you hadn’t let him kiss you all those nights as a silent way to confess his love for you, no.

“I’m not yours, I never was,” you struggled out.

“I’m yours. Don’t you see it? I would do anything for us, just let there be an ‘us’ for once, I beg you.”

“You just don’t want to be alone,” you breathed as his chest sunk with each breath. “You don’t love me, Lestat, you just love having someone to keep you out of the misery in your endless life.”

“You can’t… you can’t leave me… you can’t possibly believe all that,” he cried as he grasped your hands, but you pulled away, took a step further away from him with each try he made to get closer, to hold you for one last time, because if he ever had you around his embrace at that moment, you’d never be able to let go. You’d leave and Lestat would look for you in the face of everyone he’d kill to feed from with pure hearted and pleasure at the same time, such sickness that drew you away from him. He shook his head in denial, refused to let himself reason as you faded into a memory, or even a long lasting dream he never wanted to wake up from.

“I must…”

“I can’t bear it! Come back to me… when did I even lose you? When did you start to slip from me? I did… I did everything… I confined in you.”

“You needn’t say such things, Lestat…”

“You’ll stay.”

“No.” The answer was final, he knew it. Lestat De Lioncourt, knelt before your very eyes, broken down to the core, unable to get a hold of himself as his fingers weakened and he watched them slowly let go of yours, now holding nothing. He couldn’t hold you, just like he couldn’t hold anyone else in his life, not even himself.

The sun and moon yearned for each other, but time kept them apart. Eclipses would the only brief moments of bliss, when both of you could pretend that death hadn’t rooted into your souls, where Lestat spent the rest of eternity loving you.

FIN.

for my girl @honeymvnt !! this is your insanely late birthday gift, i hope it lives up to your expectations from all the nights we talked about it. love you 🫵🏼🎀