#I still need to make sure it's canon so hold on k

[aurorawritestoescape]

IN HIS ARMS || QZ!Joel Miller x f!reader || 5,2k

Summary: You meet a smuggler in the QZ and can't resist your attraction to him.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, a bit of fluff, unspecified age gap, Fedra soldier!reader, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, mirror sex, degradation, rough sex, praise kink, size kink, reader really loves Joel’s arms (who doesn’t), manhandling, alcohol consumption, use of a morning after pill, mention of guns, mention of canon-typical violence. Reader has hair. Joel can pick her up. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no other specific physical descriptions.

A/n: this is written for PPCU Body Worship writing challenge, created by talented, sweet and beautiful @joelmillerisapunk 💖 I got ‘Arms’ and immediately thought of meaty, beefy QZ Joel. Smooches to my lovely beta @milla-frenchy 😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 Love y’all! Hope you will like the story!❤️

MASTERLIST

“Let’s go.”

“Sure you need me there? It’s your deal, Ronnie. And you know you’re armed, right? Why do I always have to hold your hand?” you complain, while your eyes are scanning the crowd at a public hanging for any sign of disturbance. It’s not your favorite task but Fedra sends enough soldiers here to keep things under control so it usually goes smoothly. That’s probably why your friend Ronnie arranged a deal right in the middle of your shift.

“I’m nervous, ok,” he admits, glancing at you, “The dude’s fucking scary. Never worked with him before. But I’ve heard stuff. You’re just gonna stand there, that’s all. Don’t need to talk.”

You’ve known Ronnie since you were teens in a Fedra camp. Now both officers, you are still inseparable, though at this moment you’d prefer to be as far away from him as you could because in case you two get caught, you both will be a spectacle of the next hanging. Ronnie’s pleading eyes always work on you and the little weasel knows it well so you curse and follow him to the place of the meetup.

As soon as you see the smuggler, standing in a secluded spot far away from the prying eye, your heart starts beating faster. And not because he scares you. Yes, he’s huge and looks very unfriendly, thanks to his furrowed brows and the closed off stance which actually happens to be the culprit of your unexpected reaction. His pose accentuates the beauty of his arms as he’s crossing them in front of his chest. It’s a threatening sight, same as his gaze, but like a moth to a flame, you’re pulled to the man immediately. All thoughts in your head are replaced with only one - he’s fucking hot.

Ronnie slowly comes up to the man, feigning confidence.

“Who the fuck is this?” the smuggler asks, nodding at you with his chin.

“Just a friend. Don’t worry, Joel.”

“I ain’t the one to worry here, kid,” he gruffs, uncrossing his arms as his fists clench in a threatening gesture and you can sense the waves of panic, coming from your friend. “I prefer to do these things one on one. Don’t need an audience. Ya got me?”

“Yeah, ‘k. Next time I’ll be alone.”

“Hope so.”

Joel looks you up and down and you suddenly feel too hot. Standing a step further from him than Ronnie and not saying anything, you’re ogling the man with hungry eyes. Joel seems to relax and the men finally exchange the goods— pills for your friend and ration cards for the smuggler. They’re talking about the product, scheduling the next deal, and you should be on the lookout, should be attentive to the surroundings, like you always are, but your mind, as well as other parts, is fully focused on the stranger.

Joel’s hairy forearms are thick and strong and every little move makes his muscles flex and bulge out of his rolled up sleeves of the denim shirt. His shoulders are broad and the fabric, containing them, is strained to the limit. You’ve never been a biter in bed but suddenly you want to sink your teeth into his arms, lick them all over, glide your hands over the vast expense of his skin, grab them and feel them tighten around your body, encompassing you fully, while his cock stretches…

“Hey!” Ronnie exclaims, interrupting your horny daydreams, pulling on your sleeve and you blink at him, trying to shake away the visions of the man, doing filthy things to you.

“Let’s go!” he says for what appears not the first time, and you smile awkwardly, noticing Joel’s smirk. His arms are crossed again, but now he’s looking at you with a twinkle of curiosity in his piercing eyes, his heavy gaze lightened up.

You take a step away, following your friend, but Joel stops you.

“Sweetheart, wait!”

The pet name hits you right in the pussy and you pause and turn back, confused by why he’s calling you.

“C’mere,” the man motions for you to return to him with a shake of his head, his bear hands shoved in the jeans pockets.

“We’re in a hurry, man,” Ronnie frowns, thinking he’s coming to your rescue, but you turn to him and say,

“It’s ok. Wait for me over there.”

You have no idea what Joel wants from you, but you’re eager to find out. Not hiding his anxiety, your friend takes a few steps away from you and stands at the gate, glancing in your direction from time to time while his hand is resting on his gun.

“Yes? Joel, right?” You ask, coming up to the smuggler and using every last drop of your will not to leer at his mighty arms again.

“Yeah. What’s your name?”

You reply with a little smile and see a smirk tug at his plush lips when he asks, “Like what you see?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been starin' at me like at a piece of meat. No use denyin' it."

You avert your eyes, chewing on your lip. You probably should be embarrassed to be caught ogling the man, but life in this miserable world taught you to take what you want whenever you can. Especially if it's being handed to you.

"I'm not." You look back at Joel with defiance in your gaze. "I think you're hot."

Joel’s chest expands when he takes a deep breath, the shirt’s buttons hanging for dear life. His piercing eyes turn a shade darker as he asks,

"Wanna do somethin' about it?"

Your heart rate increases and the warmth of arousal between your thighs makes you shift on your feet.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Come over to my place tonight. Around 8. Ask your friend for the address. He knows."

You don't reply for a few seconds, making it seem like you're thinking about your answer, although your pussy has been aching since the moment you saw the smuggler so there's no way you're going to reject his invitation.

"'K", you reply, feigning nonchalance, while excitement is twisting your stomach.

“What?! Are you out of your mind? You're gonna see him?” Ronnie hisses at you, as you two are walking back to the square. “He’s dangerous! Do you realize that? He’s huge! Have you seen his arms?”

“Oh, I’ve seen his arms alright,” you reply with a dreamy smile, sensing butterflies in your belly.

“Fuck, you’re so stupid when you’re horny. If I find you tomorrow dead in a ditch, I’ll tell your lifeless face ‘I told you so!’”

“Jesus, man,” You giggle, playfully punching Ronnie’s shoulder. “I’ll be ok. I promise.”

The night can’t come soon enough. Still wearing your uniform, you rush to meet the man who's been occupying your mind all day. When Joel opens the door to you, you swallow loudly seeing him in the same denim shirt and dark blue jeans. You’ve been dreaming of his huge arms around your body, so your panties are completely soaked, and having had no time to change after your shift, you hope to slide them off as fast as possible.

“Hi,” you greet the man, stepping into his apartment.

“Howdy.”Joel closes the door and stands next to you, while his gaze is sliding up and down your body. You look around the apartment, getting a whiff of his scent— sweat with a subtle trace of whiskey.

“Are you from Texas originally?” You ask, glancing up at him, slightly intoxicated by his closeness.

“Yeah. Want a drink?”

He walks to the living area and you follow before leaving your guns at the door.

“What do you have?”

“Whiskey, vodka…water.”

“Vodka’s fine,” you reply, stepping up to a worn out couch and sitting down.

“Oh, are you a vodka girl?”

“I’m a ‘whatever burns’ girl, but vodka works faster on me,” you smile and Joel smirks, crossing his arms again. You swallow loudly, seeing his sexy tan forearms in the golden light of the setting sun. Fuck, you wanna touch them.

“Why d’ya need it to work fast? Doesn’t seem like you need any liquid courage.”

“Really?”

Joel goes to the kitchen and in a few seconds returns with a half empty Smirnoff bottle and two shot glasses. He plops next to you on the couch with a grunt and pours out the alcohol.

You drink yours in one go and Joel follows. The vodka burns and calms you down a little. Joel clears his throat before he speaks,

“This morning your friend was shaking like a leaf. And you… You were practically undressing me with your eyes, sweetheart.”

You smile and drop your gaze down to your lap.

“Well, Ronnie is a nervous guy and I’m …”

“A needy little slut?”

You shoot your eyes up at him and see a smug smile, tugging at his lips, as he awaits your reaction. You should probably feel offended or angry, but instead your core burns brighter at his degrading comment and your pussy flutters, as if proving him right.

He reads your reaction immediately.

“Oh you like that, huh?”

“What?”

“When I call you a slut.”

“I don’t mind,” you mumble while your mind is shutting down with every dirty word he throws at you.

“Yeah, you looked like a thirsty whore this morning. And I see that nothing’s changed.”

You’re barely breathing at this point, as waves of arousal ripple through your body, making you squirm in your seat.

“I…I just really like your arms.” Your gaze shamelessly slides over his body, so big and powerful.

“My arms?” Joel’s brows shoot up and he turns his head to look at his arm, resting on the back of the couch, as if trying to understand your attraction.

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, ogling the muscles straining his sleeve.

“Wanna touch ‘em, baby?”

“Yes, please”.

“So polite. Wanna call you a good girl but we already know that you prefer ‘a slut’.”

Joel chuckles and narrows his eyes, watching you for a few seconds, while you’re melting under his lustful gaze, sinking in the sticky pit of desire. Through the fog in your head you hear his voice, low but still powerful.

“How about we skip the pleasantries then and get to the thing you came for.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m gonna fuck you. And let you touch my arms.”

Your breath hitches and your body tingles all over. You can’t agree fast enough.

“Yeah, ok.”

“Do you always say ‘yes’ to everything, little slut?” he smirks, playing with you like a cat with a mouse.

You try to come up with a witty response but your mind is clouded with lust so you just shake your head with probably the dumbest look ever.

“Can I use your bathroom?” You mumble and when he points you in its direction, swiftly walk there.

You close the door in the little room and check your face in the mirror. It’s the same as every day except for your glossy eyes. You rinse your face, trying to come to your senses, look a little less horny but it’s all in vain. The desire overtook your body completely so you dry yourself and leave the room.

When you return to Joel, you find him on the couch in the same spot and in the same position. Only now he’s completely naked.

A shiver goes down your spine from a new surge of arousal, tightening your core.

You barely hear him, your mind is fully occupied by the image of this gorgeous, huge man, waiting to fuck you. Everything about him makes your pussy beat with the rhythm of your heart - his soft belly, his long, girthy, slightly curved semi hard cock, resting on his thick thigh, his broad hairy chest and muscular arms. Seeing them without the confines of the clothes completely shuts off your brain and you take a step towards him, mesmerized by his muscles, wishing to feel them already.

“Take your clothes off, baby.”

You hardly hear him, taking in every inch of his body.

“Girl! Undress. Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans and you shake your head, waking up from a horny trance, and start discarding your clothes hastily, piece by piece while his dark gaze is set on you. You should be more graceful and seductive taking them off, but your aching pussy makes your movements rushed and determined. When you’re completely naked, except for your panties, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of the last piece of clothing, but Joel stops you.

He gets up and walks to you, his big cock in his veiny hand.

“Wanna do it myself,” he mumbles and stands next to you, at your side, so close that you feel his warm breath on your cheek and breasts, his naked chest brushing against your shoulder, his manhood poking your thigh.

“Pretty little thing,” he whispers, taking in your body, while his hand slides down your back, leaving chills in its wake. You raise your big eyes at him, your lips parted. “Pity you get so dumb though,” he chuckles and lightly squeezes your asscheek. His hand stays there while the other one cups your breast and grazes your nipple with his calloused thumb, making it stiff. You moan and he groans.

Joel’s palm on your ass moves lower, and reaches your pussy, covered by the wet panties. He slips his finger between your asscheeks and rubs your drippping hole over the gusset. You softly whimper and he plants a light kiss on your cheek, stroking your folds over the fabric.

“She’s been crying for me all day, huh?” he mumbles, placing his large warm hand on your belly, the other one still caressing your cunt. “Pussy so needy she shut down your whole little brain. Yeah, baby?”

All you can do is nod, your senses fully focused on the way his thick fingers are rubbing your aching cunt over the underwear.

“She must be cold, sweetheart, being in a pair of wet panties all day like that?” He coos at you.

“Yeah”, you reply, barely breathing, already feeling your orgasm build because of his light touches. “Didn’t have time to change. I have a sexy pair at home.”

Joel breathes out a chuckle, “I bet you do, little slut. Would love to see ‘em too one day.”

The only response you can give is a mewl.

He steps in front of you, his hand leaving your pussy, and you whine. Joel tsks at you and pinches your chin with his fingers to lift your face to his.

“Oh, my pretty bimbo, already cock drunk,” he laughs, locking eyes with you.

Joel’s so huge, you should probably be scared, but all you feel is a pathetic need to be completely destroyed by him.

“Lights are on but…fuck, you’re gone,” he mocks you, looking into your hazy blown out eyes.

“Listen to me,” he commands, as his fingers slightly shake your head, getting your attention. “How do you want it? Gentle or rough, sweetheart?”

“Rough,” you croak back without any hesitation.

“Good. Then do what I say and we gonna have a great time, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good little slut.”

Your breaths are short and fast as you’re blinking, starting at him like a mindless fuck doll. Suddenly, you gasp when he grabs the back of your thighs with his massive hands and lifts you, throwing your legs around his waist. You grab onto his broad shoulders and he carries you away from the couch and to the bedroom.

He drops you on the bed, old and stiff, but you don’t care. You have no time or ability to think about anything, because as soon as you’re on your back, Joel pins you to the lumpy mattress with his heavy torso and kisses you. He’s not asking for a kiss, he’s taking it but you willingly open your mouth, welcoming his hot tongue. A happy moan escapes your mouth, when you finally glide your palms over his huge arms. He slides your panties off and cups your pussy with his huge warm palm.

“Messy whore,” he mumbles against your mouth.

Joel’s assertive, passionate and as horny as you are, and you smile against his lips, enjoying his desire for you.

He begins peppering kisses along your jaw, your neck, leaving hickeys on his way to your breasts.

You whimper when his mouth finds your nipple and gasp when he nips at it. He licks the pain away and starts sucking on it while his hands are roaming your heated body.

You grab onto his shoulders and shift your hips under his arm. Joel’s slurping and growling, caressing your breast with his lips and tongue, but you crave more so you start grinding your wet pulsating pussy against his arm. Your movements immediately send you to the precipice of your climax. His muscles flex as you rub your clit against them, smearing your slick over his tan skin, and Joel parts from your tit for a few seconds to watch you use his arm to get yourself off.

“Look at this sloppy little pussy. Gonna need a shower after this. Or…,” he smirks and gets back to suckling your other breast.

Each motion of his muscles is helping you to come as you’re dragging your pussy up and down his heavy limb. Soon you throw your head back, dipping it into the pillow when a hard climax hits you and your cunt contracts around nothing, as euphoria is coursing through your veins, taking away the last of your clear thinking.

“That’s it— take it, slut— come for me — jus’ like that,” Joel mumbles against your trembling chest but you hardly hear him, so deep in the ocean of desire, all sounds around you are muffled.

The next thing you feel is his hands grabbing your shoulders and lifting you. Joel makes you sit up and wraps his heavy hand around the back of your neck.

“Look what you’ve done, messy girl.”

He nods at his arm, glistening with your cum and slick and then growls, “Lick it clean.”

With a hazy smile you sit on your heels, getting comfortable. Then you take his arm between your hands and reach for it. Your tongue slides over his hot wet skin and you flutter your eyes shut, reveling in the sensations of his firm muscles under your tongue and the earthy taste of your juices.

“Attagirl,” Joel praises you and slightly squeezes the back of your neck to make you move your head lower and lap up all the mess you’ve left on his skin.

When you finish, Joel lifts your head and sees you staring at his throbbing cock with empty but hungry eyes. It’s leaking precum generously and you almost drool looking at it. You should probably be nervous to take his huge length but all you feel is feral lust.

Placing his palm under your jaw, Joel tilts your head up and searches for your eyes.

“Damn, lookin’ so dumb right now. Lucky you remember how to breathe, little whore.”

He laughs at you and grabs your face, as his fingers dig into your cheeks, making your lips pout.

You whine and he pulls you into his chest. You hug him as if afraid to float away and he gives you a few moments of rest while you are panting, snuggling into his embrace after the shuddering orgasm.

Then he lifts your chin and locks eyes with you. Your breath hitches as you’re struck by his handsome face, which leans down and he kisses you again, gently and slowly, wrapping you tighter in his embrace. Then he asks,

“Why do you like my arms so much?”

You blink a few times, trying really hard to understand the question, drunk on his taste and the way he’s holding you, but when the meaning finally reaches your brain, you stumble over your words.

“I… they… jus’ so big. And … fuck, very hot.”

You feel his broad chest shake with a quiet laugh. “Ready for my cock, baby?” You nod your head with a soft mewl.

“Wanna watch my arms when I’m railing you?”

“Yeah, yes, please.”

Joel hums and gets up before manhandling you off the bed and leading you to a wardrobe. He’s holding you under your arms, noticing that your weak legs are barely able to move, still tingling after your orgasm. He places you like a fuck doll in front the wardrobe door with a mirror and stands behind you. He’s so big and broad that you can see his shoulders and arms perfectly in the reflection. Your gaze glides over your own naked body, and you notice a path of hickeys along your neck and breasts and your core ignites again at the sight of his passion. Then you look at Joel, his eyes are obsidian, the expression is carnal and hungry, and you moan, feeling his cock slap your lower back.

His gaze drops down before he pushes your legs aside with his knee, his thick fingers dig into your hips and he pulls your ass, making you stick it out. Trying to steady yourself, you brace your hands on the mirror in front of you, but he grumbles,

“Not the mirror, stupid. You’ll break it, cut yourself.”

You swiftly move your hands further apart onto the wooden surface.

“Sexy but so dumb,” he mumbles as his eyes return to your ass and his cock. You watch his face, serious and concentrated, and sense his tip prod your sopping hole.

“Fuck,” he curses and pushes his cock deeper, slightly bending his knees to insert it into your tight pussy easier.

You push your ass out more for him, already whimpering like a whore, as you feel your walls slowly part to accommodate his stiff cock. It stings but you welcome the sensation of his manhood spreading your pussy until he bottoms out and you both moan at the sensation.

“Ahh— she feels amazing, baby,” he grunts and you smile dumbly at his reflection in the mirror.

“Such a sloppy cunt,” he murmurs, starting to plunge his length in and out of you with a fast rhythm, “oh, yeah — yeah — yeah—.”

His fat cock is massaging your walls deliciously, kissing your cervix with every deep thrust and you mewl with pleasure and scratch the wooden surface of the wardrobe with your nails.

“Naughty kitten. Tess will kill you if you leave marks on her furniture,” Joel chuckles through heavy panting, squeezing your hips and watching your cunt swallow his glistening cock.

“Who’s Tess?” You ask, not really giving a fuck and he doesn’t reply.

Instead he grants you your biggest wish - he pulls you flush to his chest and wraps his arms around your torso from behind. Your hands immediately fly to grab onto his strong limbs. Joel’s right arm is under your breasts, slightly pushing them up. The other one is keeping you in place, pressed to your chest, between your tits, his giant hand on your throat. His thick fingers curl around your neck but he doesn’t squeeze it, just holds you close against his broad torso.

The sensation and the vision of his powerful muscular arms bonding you to him like that, make your pussy contract and Joel growls in your ear, his breath hot and wet,

“Squeezing me already? Fuck, you’re easy.”

You whine and Joel nibbles on your ear lobe and rasps,

“Hold tight, baby, it’s gonna be a wild ride.”

As soon as the words reach your ear, he begins rolling his hips and dragging his cock in and out of your tight pussy, hard and fast.

You grab onto his bulging muscles better, and as he’s increasing the pace, you’re scratching him with your nails, leaving white marks on his golden skin and whimpering.

“Yeah, take it, dumb little whore. Gonna fuck the last of your brain out of your pretty head.”

Your breasts bounce while he’s fucking you and you bite your puffy lips, trying to muffle your moans, but Joel commands against yout ear,

“Want you to be loud, baby. C’mon. Let them all hear how good im fuckin’ ya.”

You would do anything he told you this moment so your lips part and you let your pleasured noises out, as they mix with the sound of skin rhythmically slapping against skin and his animalistic groans.

Reveling in the sensation of Joel, pounding your crying cunt, you let your hands wander all over his forearms and shoulders, squeezing and scratching them slightly, wishing to memorize the feeling of their strength under your hungry touch. Your vision is shaking with every mighty thrust of his hips but you’re watching the reflection of you two closely, drowning in the image of this tall broad man using you like a mindless fuck doll, caging you in his powerful arms and tears well up in your eyes at how amazing it feels. Your mind and body are focused on this pleasure, suffering and worries of the reality are gone and the drops of pure happiness spill and fall on his arms.

Joel notices you crying and stops fucking you, swiftly pulling out and turning you around.

“What is it, baby? Did I hurt ya?”

His dark eyes, a second ago filled with carnal desire now worried and concerned, dart all over your face and body, searching for the reason of your tears.

You grab onto him and shake your head,

“No, no, i’m fine — feels so good - you feel so good, Joel.”

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he breathes out, pulling you into his bear hug and rubbing your back with his warm hands.

“Please keep fucking me,” you mumble against his hairy chest and he barks a laugh before throwing you back on the bed, making you squeal with excitement.

Joel lies down and manhandles you to straddle him.

“Sit on my cock, little slut,” he commands, eyes darting between yours, reading your reaction.

“Yes, yes,” you mumble, wrapping your hand around his hot hard cock and lifting your hips, hovering over it. You don’t make him wait and immediately sink down on his weeping manhood, as your mouth falls open and your head tilts back.

Joel’s hands are holding your hips when you start riding him, and then snake up to your breasts to knead them, pinch and twist your pebbled nipples.

You run your fingers over his forearms from the elbows to his wrists and grab his hand, intertwining your fingers. Not pausing your lustful dance on his cock, you gently kiss his palm, his hand, then your lips glide down, leaving open mouth kisses over his wrist, the underside of his forearm and his elbow, darting your tongue out and tasting his salty skin. You lean forward, your nipples brushing his chest, and kiss his biceps, using your tongue, and Joel moans, watching you practically make out with his arm.

“Fuck, you’re hot, baby,” he groans while you’re lapping at his skin with your eyes shut. You’re softly whimpering at the sensation of his body, big and strong under you, his cock caressing your walls, making your pussy flutter around it, pushing you closer and closer to your second climax.

“Shit,” Joel curses, pulls your head off his arm and kisses you, while hugging your torso with his python-like grip. He’s holding you tight and you whine, not being able to move your hips and chase your orgasm. Sensing your impatience, Joel plants his feet on the bed and begins jackhammering his fat cock into your slicked up pussy, giving it to you rough and fast, not sparing your little hole.

You’re moaning against his scruffy cheek, your body shaking with his feral thrusts but Joel’s iron hold is keeping you in place.

“Usin’ you like a fuck doll you’re, yeah? Brainless little slut. Made just to make my cock happy. Perfect for me.”

His filthy words, leaving his mouth through gritted teeth, are barely audible because of the loud slapping of his body against yours and the squeaking of the old bed.

“Joellll…,” you moan, and after a few more thrusts explode on his thumping cock, caged by his strong arms, sobbing with heavenly pleasure flooding every inch of your body.

“Hnggg—shit—can I come inside?” You hear a gruff roar in your ear and with Joel fucking your brains out right this moment, you breathe out, “yeah, oh, yeah.” You crave to be full of him, drip him for days after, getting turned on just from the memory of him. As soon as you agree, Joel starts spurting his hot cum into your pulsating cunt, filling you up, emptying his balls into you.

You’re lying still, nuzzling his neck and taking everything he’s giving you, milking his cock to the last drop with your contracting walls.

Gradually intense ecstasy morphs into a pleasant satisfaction and you both bask in the afterglow of your orgasms. You feel almost high on endorphins, not used to such an amount of happiness in your veins, in your life.

Joel softens his embrace but still holds you, letting you rest and you almost doze off, lulled by his warm chest rocking you up and down like a giant wave.

“Don’t sleep yet, ya need to take a pill,” he gently shakes you, sleep heavy in his own voice.

“Oh, yeah…fuck, you came inside,” you murmur, blinking at him, as your mind fog slowly clears up.

“I have a Plan B, don’t worry.”

He moves you off him and lays you down on the bed, then gets up, making the bed squeak.

You can’t move your limbs even if you tried to so you’re lying there, feeling his warmth between your legs, kisses of the afterglow all over your heated skin and smile lazily when he returns to the bed with a glass of water.

“Look at you, as cock dumb as they get, huh?”

He plops down next to you and hands you the pill.

You sit up with a tired smile, swallow the pill and chase it with a few sips of water.

“Good girl,” Joel takes the glass from you and shakes his head when you murmur that you need to go.

“No way. Sleep here. They'll hang your ass if they catch you out and about at this hour.”

You turn your head to the window, just noticing that it’s completely dark outside, only the street lamps illuminate the room with a yellow light.

“Aww, you care about me, Joel? Don’t fall in love,” you giggle but your heart flutters as you look up at the man, so handsome and huge, looming over you.

“I’ll try,” he deadpans and shakes his hand, motioning you to scooch.

You shift to the other side of the bed and he lies down on his back with a grunt. You’re still sitting up, shamelessly admiring his naked body.

“Quit starin’,” he mumbles with eyes closed and pulls you down onto his chest.

You’re lying on his shoulder for a few moments and then whisper,

“Can you big spoon me?”

“Jesus…,” he sighs but turns on his side, scooping you in his embrace and you smile, closing your eyes as your hands gravitate to his arms, heavy and secure around you. You press your back into his warm chest and fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!💖🌸

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[rafeandonlyrafe]

never truly gone

words: 2k

alternative universe where rafe was the one to fake his death instead of ward

warnings: funeral, discussions of death and grief, established relationship, murder confession (canon murder), implications of smut (no actual sex)

you are barely tuned in to the words being spoken at the funeral, lost in the haze of grief. dressed in the same outfit you wore for your one year anniversary with rafe. it was his favorite. was. the word hits you like a ton of bricks.

it didn't feel real for the longest time, part of it still doesn't, the feeling in your gut that your boyfriend isn't truly gone, but as you pick your head up and look around, you realize you have to get over the stage of denial.

“are you okay?” your mom whispers, reaching over to squeeze your hand. you rip it immediately out of her grip. of course you're not okay. who could be after their first love, their high school sweetheart, blew up?

“now is the time that we invite anyone who would like to say a few words up to the mic.” the pastor says, looking out into the crowd, members of rafes family having already spoken.

ward turns around to look at you. he invited you to sit in the front row when you first arrived, but you didn't want that kind of attention, your every reaction being scrutinized, if you’re crying too much, or not reacting enough.

“would you like to speak y/n?” 

you look at the crumpled, tear stained piece of paper with some words scribbled on it.

“i-i don't know if i can.” you admit. ward seemed so strong when he spoke, the same pillar of community he seems to be when speaking at town halls or midsummers.

“whatever you say, im sure rafe would appreciate it.”

you nod, take a deep breath, then stand. your mind seems to blur as you walk to the front, the pastor greeting you with a soft hug then leading you to the podium.

you clear your throat before looking down at the paper. 

“i never imagined a life without you. you were the first man i ever loved and i can't… i can't see myself ever having that same love again. we changed each other so much. we went from kids to young adults planning out their life together. i love you so much, rafe. i always will no matter how much time passes.” you vow.

your next words turn robotic, talking about the family he left behind, his accomplishments, things that don't actually matter to you but you know should be said. you recount the five years you were together, knowing someone is no doubt scoffing at how little it is, but it was your whole world.

you manage to hold in your sobs until you sit back down. you spend the rest of the funeral with your head down, unable to look at the pictures hung around the church.

-- 2 months later --

you let out a groan as you turn over in bed, not wanting to wake up, wanting to spend another day rotting under the covers.

“it's almost noon.” your mom says, peaking in to the door.

“yeah.” you say, sniffling as you see the photo on your nightstand when you go to look at your alarm clock. you can't bring yourself to move it, even if it makes you cry every time you see rafes smiling face. “i know.”

“maybe we could go out to dinner. or order some pizza? you need to eat, baby.” you know your mom is just looking out for you, but the thought of food makes you feel sick, eating at this point when your stomach truly needs it.

“yeah, maybe.” you pick your phone up off the nightstand and unplug it. “im gonna take a shower and get dressed.”

“that's good.” your mom says. “i love you, y/n.”

“love you too mama.” you pause for a beat when she doesn't shut your door. “thank you.”

you mom nods before exiting. you open up your phone to the gallery that causes you as much pain as it has joy, flicking through your final photos with rafe before sighing and getting up to shower with him fresh in your mind, determined to not forget a single thing about him.

--

you're about to go to sleep, pass out and hopefully not dream of anything. you went out for dinner like you promised your mom, trying to keep a brave face for her. she didn't even mention anything when you came back from an extended trip to the bathroom with tear stains on your cheeks and red eyes.

you grab your phone, swallowing harshly to stop yourself from crying again as you click on your messages, rafes contact still pinned to the top. 

you click on your messages. the last text was rafe saying he loved you. you never got to text him back, but you know he was aware of how much you loved him.

you scroll back for a bit, smiling at his jokes even with the tears in your eyes.

you lock your phone and place it on your chest, looking up at the glittering stars through your skylight. “i miss you so much, rafe. why'd you have to leave me?”

your phone vibrates. you almost ignore it, not caring who it could be from, you've practically ditched all your friends, hoping they won't hold it against you when you finally feel good enough to hang out again, if that time ever comes.

something in you makes you pause when you go to plug your phone in, makes you hesitate and open up the text.

baby, im so sorry. please meet me outside, im at your dock.

love, rafe

you frown at the text from the unknown number, considering ignoring the obvious prank as you fling off your covers, body now fueled with rafe, but when you look out the window, there is an unfamiliar boat tied to your dock.

you slip on your shoes, not really thinking of a plan as you head outside, rushing through the yard to find out whoever is playing tricks on you.

the moon barely lights your steps as you stomp down the wooden dock until you're close enough from the boat for them to hear you and far enough from your house to not wake up your mom.

“this isn't fucking funny!” you scream. “whoever is pranking me, you're fucked up!”

a figure steps out of the boat and onto your dock. it takes your eyes a second to adjust, to really take in what you're seeing, to know it's reality.

“n-no.” you take a staggering step back. “im-im seeing things.”

“it's really me, baby.” the word hits you like a bullet as you fall to your knees, not caring that they dig into the wood. “i can explain everything but-but can i touch you? ive missed you so goddamn much.”

“this isn't real. you're- you're dead. im dreaming.”

rafe moves closer, dropping to his knees as well and pulling you into a tight hug. it isn't until he touches you that you know that it's not a dream, hes real and warm against you.

“oh, god.” you begin to sob, clutching onto rafe, clambering closer to him, climbing onto his lap and hugging him so tightly it's like your bodies could become one.

“im so fucking sorry baby. i love you. i love you so much.”

“i love you.” you sob, pulling back to look rafe in the eye. “i-i love you and you can never leave me again.”

you'll demand answers later, but now you're just happy your initial gut instinct was right, your boyfriend is right here, alive and well.

“can i kiss you? you're probably pissed at me but-”

you don't wait for rafe to finishing, surging forward and smashing your lips against his, all the passion and feelings of the past two months without him, but also the past five years of love, put into your bodies as you kiss under the moonlight.

“baby-” rafe gasps after a minute. “i-i need to get back on the boat. just in case i’m seen. come with me.”

“okay.” you're not sure what it means, but you're not going to let rafe out of your sight.

rafe climbs onto the boat before helping you, hand carefully stroking over yours as he leads you into the cabin.

“did you tell anyone that i messaged you?” he asks, sitting down on the bed and pulling you to his side.

“no.” you shake your head. “my mom doesn't even know.”

“that's good.” rafe nods. “i faked my death.”

“i can tell.” you giggle, unable to keep away for much longer as you press your lips against his in a quick peck before curiosity has your tongue loosening. “how? why?”

“my dad planned it for me. the boat was rigged to explode and i went and suited up in scuba gear. the why…” rafe hesitates for a moment, and you can read every emotion on his face.

“just tell me.” you say. “you can't hurt me. you can't make me mad at you, not when i just got you back.”

“i killed sheriff peterkin.” rafe swallows harshly. “it was to protect my dad, but of course nobody would believe me.”

“i believe you.” you tell rafe, tucking your head into his neck. “that must have been so scary, but i know how you'd do anything to protect the people you love.”

“my dad didn't want me to tell you at all. i agreed to wait until after it happened, but it all moved so fast, and when i got to where i was supposed to hide out for a while, i realized i had no way of contacting you. i had to steal a phone and this boat and leave the safehouse.”

“what's the plan now then?” you ask.

“have you come back to the safehouse with me. it's in the caribbean, on a gorgeous island. i will provide everything you need, we won't have to hide there.”

“and what will i tell my family? tell everyone?”

“well, your mom loves me.” rafe smiles, knowing he's right. “i think we can trust her to keep the secret. as for everyone else… maybe you just need some time away from the outer banks after what happened. maybe some cousins in michigan or something?”

“whatever.” you shake your head. “i just need to be with you.”

-- one week later --

“when you said safe house…” you look around the mansion. “this is not what i was picturing.”

“the locals here think im a cousin of the cameron family. allows me to stay here without much suspicion. i do keep a low profile and stay out of touristy areas just in case, but we can do whatever you want here. the ocean is right outside our doorstep.”

“and money? do i need to get a job?” you've never worked before, having grown up wealthy, but you're willing to do anything to keep your life going with rafe, having told your mom who didn't believe you until rafe stepped into the room. she saw the spark in your eyes and recognized it as the same one in hers when she looked at your father, and her time was also cut short when he passed young.

she made you promise to call and to let her visit every couple months, just enough to not be suspicious.

“no.” rafe shakes his head. “my dad funnels me money. cash, so no one gets suspicious.”

“honestly, i could just stay forever in the house and in the backyard.” you laugh, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulders, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“my dad will figure something out eventually, i don't expect you to hide for the rest of your life.”

“okay.” you shrug. now that you're with rafe, you don't care. you're going to be happy no matter what after feeling the pain of losing him.

“there is one more room i want to show you…” rafe picks you up, your legs slotting around his waist like nothing ever happened. 

you laugh as you kiss his neck, knowing exactly where he's taking you.

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[waterfae]

A Good Pillow [Part 9]

Summary: A glimpse of your budding friendship with Ominis and your growing feelings after the events in the Scriptorium.

Pairings: Ominis Gaunt x Reader, Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mild language, angst, comfort, fluff, friends-to-lovers, unhinged Slytherins, complicated relationships, house-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, no beta

this chapter includes the canon fight in catacombs, beware if you're not fond of what happens in there

Word Count: 4.2+ K

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

|| General Masterlist || Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist ||

When you finally emerged from the map chamber after the final trial, you had every intention to fling your body onto your bed and allow sleep to take over; all you wanted to do was close your eyes and drift away into nothingness, to not think or do anything, especially after everything you just had to process from Professor Bakar’s pensieve and all the plans that would soon need to be executed. You hadn’t counted on finding Ominis’s owl to be perched upon the edge of your bed when you walked through the door of your dormitory that evening.

“Poor thing has been waiting for you for hours.” Your roommate, who appeared to be finishing up some homework, motioned from her side of the room towards the bird.

“Well, hello there.” You greeted him gently with a pet before accepting the piece of parchment between it’s beak and offering him a little treat, “It’s getting rather late. What could this be about?” You asked out loud as you unfolded the letter. You’re eyes grew wide as you read its contents.

Anne's worried. She said Sebastian promised her that I would be there if she went to meet him in the catacomb. But now he's asking her to join him immediately and to come alone. She says he doesn't sound himself.

Meet us at the catacomb as soon as you can.

I hope that my quill has conveyed my message clearly.

Ominis

You quickly stuffed the note into your pocket and without a second thought, you turned your heel and ran. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, paying no mind to your roommate as she inquired about where you were going and warned that it was nearly past curfew. Curfews were the last thing you were worried about at this moment. How long had his owl been waiting there for you again? Hours, she said? You rushed out of the common room and bolted down the corridors, hoping that somehow, you weren’t too late.

By the time you had arrived, Anne and Ominis were already in midst of a conversation. You could hear the dread in Anne’s voice as you walked up the path and approached the entrance to where the two had been waiting for you.

“Sebastian has gone too far.” You heard her say, “You saw what lies in the catacomb.” Ominis attempted to plead for her to reconsider, but she merely shook her head, “Ominis, he was willing to put the whole hamlet and himself in danger on the chance that some old relic could help heal me.”

You paused and took in a sharp breath. From the sound of their conversation, it appeared as though you were too late and Sebastian had gone and done something drastic. At the sound of your gasp, both Ominis and Anne turned towards you, a pained look in her eyes and relief in his.

“What’s happened?” You asked gingerly, trying to navigate through the tension, “Where’s Sebastian?”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot stay here.” Anne came forward, pulling you into a quick, yet tight embrace before turning back to Ominis, “You’ll explain?” She paused before adding, “And make sure he’s alright, will you?”

You stood before Ominis as Anne rushed away, still confused to the situation. You called out to him and he came forward, pulling you into his arms just as Anne had.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He said, tightening his hold. You returned his hug as he continued to explain, “Sebastian’s gone inside the catacomb. When I didn’t hear back from you, I thought perhaps you were already in there with him. So, I was surprised when you weren’t.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” You untangled yourself from him, “I was with Professor Fig.”

“No matter.” He shook his head and motioned his wand towards the entrance, “Sebastian is in real trouble now. Anne has gone to go fetch Solomon, but I’m going back inside to find him.”

“I’ll go with you.” Your voice came strong, determined; you weren’t going to take no for answer.

Ominis could feel it and did not even bother with an attempt to dissuade you. He gave a curt nod and started for the entrance, “We must be careful. The place is crawling with Inferi.”

“Inferi?!” Shocked, you quickly followed suit to match his stride, wand at the ready. The last time you had ventured into the catacombs, it was crawling with spiders. To hear that it was now Inferi infesting these walls was far from what you were expecting and most puzzling. “How?”

Ominis explained as the two of you fought your way deeper through the tunnels; Inferi popping up at various points in your path, “When Anne went to meet Sebastian, he showed her the relic and said he’d learned how to use it.” With a wave of his wand, he was able to blast one away that had very nearly sneaked up on you as you fought off another, “He’s controlling them.”

“The Inferi?” You turned and positioned yourself with your back against Ominis, the two of you casting spells in unison as more circled around you, “He’s controlling them with the relic?” A fifth year Hogwarts student controlling Inferi? You wanted to laugh at the absurdity. The creatures attacking you didn’t seem to be under any semblance of control at all. You were lucky Ominis was not just a merely capable duelist, he was a bloody amazing one. It made you wonder why you never asked him to be your cross-wands partner.

“Creating Inferi is incredibly difficult, but controlling them – ” He panted as he helped you rid of the last few, “This is powerful dark magic.”

“More dark magic.” You whispered after casting your final spell. You lowered your wand and turned to face your companion, eyes wide as realization hit you, “Ominis. Solomon threatened to go to the headmaster if he heard of Sebastian dealing with more dark magic.”

“And Anne has gone to get him…” Ominis said slowly as it began to dawn on him as well, “I need to get to Hogwarts. I must get to Professor Black first. Twist the story a bit. Make him think it’s a family fight.”

You voiced your agreement and watched him pace, appearing as though he were warring with himself; you had an inkling as to what his hesitation may be and decided to make the choice for him. “Go.” You said, “I’ll be fine.”

His gaze darted in your direction, worry still on his features and you were glad that he was not able to see your own, lest it break his resolve, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He placed a hand against your cheek, “See if you can talk some sense into Sebastian.” You placed your own hand on top of his, squeezing his thumb as you nodded in acceptance of his instruction. “Be careful.” He finally whispered, slipping from your hold.

“You too.” You whispered back as you watched him turn and retreat from which you came.

Alone, you advanced forward, fighting several more Inferi before you could reach the Great Room, a much more difficult task now that Ominis was no longer fighting alongside you. You found yourself needing to use some ancient magic just to keep them from circling and closing in. Although you defeated them just the same, it had taken much more effort and time without him. But with your path now clear, you were able to proceed to the next room where you finally caught the view of Sebastian’s familiar figure.

He turned towards you with a sinister smile as you came through the door. “Isn’t it incredible?” “Sebastian…” You looked at the sight before you: Sebastian with his wand in one hand, the relic in the other, and Inferi behind him, mindlessly swaying from side to side. You shivered, realizing then, that at this moment you were no longer afraid for him – you were afraid of him. Anne and Ominis were right, he did not seem himself.

“I told you!” He started, stepping towards you and holding out the relic in full view, “The relic is the answer. I’ve been trying to reverse the dark magic that injured Anne, but this will allow me to control it – just as I can control the Inferi.”

“Control?” You stared at him bewildered, “Sebastian, I don’t know what your idea of control is, but I just I had to fight groups of Inferi all the way over here.” You paused before adding, “Unless that was your doing.”

“What? Of course not!” He spat out in offense, “I’d never attack you–”

A sudden blast came, interrupting the conversation and ridding of one of the Inferi that stood behind Sebastian. You yelped and jumped back in surprise while he turned to search for the origin of the blast.

“What have the two of you done?!” Came the booming voice of Solomon Sallow.

You looked on surprised, ‘the two of us?’ You were appalled to be lumped into Sebastian’s heinous plot, especially when you had only just gotten there, but you also could not entirely blame the man as you had admittedly been aiding Sebastian prior to all this. How could he have known the falling out you two already had trying to stop the madness; the decision you had made to no longer follow his nephew down his dark path.

“Accio Relic!” You heard him call out and you watched the object fly from Sebastian’s hands and into Solomon’s. Before much more could be done, Solomon waved his wand and to Sebastian’s horror, it disintegrated. Your mouth fell open in shock, not so much from what his uncle had done, but more so from the fear of what Sebastian could and would do in his anger.

“You’ll pay for this!” Sebastian shouted as he cast a spell towards his uncle who successfully blocked it and immediately sent one back.

All the while. the Inferi who had been quietly standing to the side, seemed to break free from their trance as soon as the relic had been destroyed. Your attention turned to them as they all slowly began to gain control over themselves and make their way towards you.

“Shit.” You didn’t normally swear, but it was all you could find to say as you threw different spells their way while Sebastian continued to fight with his uncle. ‘This is insane.’ You thought with every wave of your wand. In your mind, all three of you should be working together to fight off the army of Inferi who were now loose and uncontrolled; instead you were fighting amongst yourselves on top of that. It made no sense to you and it only frustrated you further – as you dodged a stray spell – to hear Sebastian in the background continue to argue with his uncle as even more spells were cast between all three of you, maneuvering and switching back and forth from fighting the Inferi to each other.

“Mr. Sallow! Stop!” You pleaded as you blasted two creatures away from you; your strength was waning and you were unsure of how much longer you could hold out. Even with your ancient magic, the fight was proving too difficult; there were just too many of them and continuously sprouting out from Merlin-knows-where. You sent a basic cast at him; you weren’t trying to hurt him, if you could help it, just merely attempting to distract him for a moment.

“How dare you?! You’re no friend to my nephew!” He pointed his wand in your direction and fired off a spell. You were too preoccupied with another group of Inferi that had just made it’s way into the room to take notice and protect yourself and it sent you careening into a large pile of bones. You let out a groan.

“Now you’ve gone too far.” Sebastian said darkly after watching you struggle to get up from pile.

“Anne cannot be healed, Sebastian.” Solomon limped forward and raise his wand at Sebastian, “You must stop.”

“I won’t let her suffer…” Sebastian raised his as well. “Avada Kedavra!”

“Sebastian! NO!” You screamed as soon as you heard the incantation from his lips. You stared in horror as green light emitted from Sebastian’s wand and hit his uncle, causing his body to collapse down to floor with a loud thud – lifeless. You held your breath and all your senses seemed to cease for a moment. You witnessed Sebastian drop his wand, but never heard the clatter as it hit the stone below, all you could hear now was the rushing of blood through your years and the pounding of your heart through your chest. The world seemed to spin and you had to grab onto the nearby wall to steady yourself.

“Depulso!” A voice suddenly called, distinctly female this time, and the spell hit Sebastian square in the chest, sending him against the wall. He slid down in a heap.

You looked towards the voice and found Anne, wand out with a look of pure disgust on her features as she yelled out another – incdendio. The remaining Inferi disintegrated before your eyes in a fiery blaze and you couldn’t help but stare as she made a turn about the room, making sure every last one of the creatures had been destroyed. You hadn’t realized how much power someone so ill could hold and never had you seen her look more upset than she did at this moment; it was there you were able to see just how much she resembled her twin. She walked towards her uncle’s body before looking at Sebastian, who did and said nothing as he watched his sister’s actions. It was then that she noticed a table and the book that was placed upon it: Slytherin’s spellbook.

One last incantation left her lips, “Bombarda!”

Sebastian let out a roar of despair as he watched the book destroyed.

“You’ve made your choice.” The pain in her voice was evident and it was the last thing Anne said before she bent down, took hold of her uncle’s lifeless body, and vanished.

“Oh, Anne.” Sebastian moaned after the sound of her disapparating, “What have you done?”

You stared in silence, eyes darting from where Anne had once been to Sebastian, who was now slowly getting up as he cradled his stomach.

“I must get out of here.” He whispered, clambering out of the room.

You snapped out of your daze, pushed away from the wall that had been supporting you this entire time and followed him; you could not let him leave just like that, “Sebastian, wait!” He continued to move, traversing towards the exit, as if he hadn’t heard, with you tailing closely behind, away from the treacherousness of the catacomb. No more Inferi this time to obstruct your path and delay you.

It had been late, in the dead of night, when you had first arrived to meet with Ominis and Anne at the catacomb. You had not given a thought to how long you had been in there, until now, when you finally emerged from the crypt. The sun was beginning to rise, lightening the sky above, birds chirping, and the sounds of the nearby hamlets slowly waking. Unbeknownst to the surrounding villages, the horrible things that just unfolded beneath them.

“Sebastian!” You called again once the both of you made it far enough away. He finally came to a halt, still avoiding your gaze, “I was calling after you. Why wouldn’t you stop?”

“Anne won’t survive this.” He mumbled as he began pacing back and forth. He paid you no mind and appeared to be talking to himself at first, “She’s withering away – inside and out. Solomon’s never been there for us. Not really. He gave up on Anne. I’ll never give up on her.” He finally turned to you, desperation in his eyes, “You saw him, didn’t you? He was going to ruin her life! He attacked us. I had to used the Killing Curse. You know I did.”

“He did attack us, yes.” You began slowly and very cautiously. He was still in a fragile state and you weren’t sure if whatever you would say might trigger him, “But you did attack him first.”

“I attacked him first? He stole the relic and then destroyed it!” He argued back.

“Look. I understand why you did it, but that doesn’t make it right. It does not excuse what you did. You went too far, Sebastian.”

He looked away from you, disappointed and lost. You felt the same as he looked. What exactly had he been expecting you to say?

“I can’t think right now.” He finally muttered, “I need to leave.” He began to pace again, “I can’t stay here. I need to find Ominis.”

“Sebastian…” You whispered as gently as you could and reached out to touch his shoulder.

He paused for a moment and with pleading eyes, turned to you, “Please, I’m not myself right now.” He looked at the hand on his shoulder and swallowed. He then raised one of his own and placed it atop yours. “Let’s meet later. In the Undercroft.”

You nodded and watched as he moved away and down the path, his fingers slipping from yours. For a moment, just a flicker, you saw the boy you had met on that first day in Defense Against the Dark Arts instead of the one corrupted by dark magic. Your heart ached.

Later that day, just as planned, you made your way to the Undercroft. The two boys were already conversing when you stepped in. Ominis, as always, with a look of concern and Sebastian, glowering at the mention of Anne. You cleared your throat to signal your arrival and the two Slytherins looked up at you.

“I’ll give you sometime to think.” Ominis said, breaking away from the conversation and walking past you, patting you on the shoulder as he went.

You took in a deep breath and made your way towards Sebastian. It was your turn it seemed, but he already looked upset with whatever Ominis might have said.

“Turn me in?” He said as you got closer. “Did you heard that?” You did not and shook your head in reply, “You saw what happened! He attacked us. He attacked you.”

You said nothing. Frankly, you didn’t know what to say. No words of wisdom or comfort. You were at a loss.

“I never wanted to hurt my uncle. I didn’t mean it. I was just so angry, I didn’t want – Oh, how did things go so wrong?” You continued to only listen and watch as distress overtook your old friend. He seemed remorseful and you wanted to believe he truly was, “I was only trying to help. I can’t leave now. Anne needs me more than ever.” He maneuvered closer towards you and reached for your hands, “You understand, don’t you?” You bit your lip and nodded; a part of you did, “You can talk to Ominis and make him understand. He listens to you.”

Your mouth fell open, wanting to say something – anything – but what? You weren’t sure. The more you thought it over, the more you felt like a hypocrite, the more you felt that you had no right to judge him, for you were no innocent. You’ve hurt people as well on your quest; you’ve put them danger. You’d never outright used the Killing Curse, but did it make you any better? You were torn and finally you stuttered, “I don’t know what to do, Sebastian.”

“You don’t know?” He replied baffled, “You do know. Anne has no one.” He squeezed your hands ever tighter, “I regret everything I did. I know what I did was wrong.” His eyes shined as the tears began to form, but he did not allow them to fall, “I only hope she can forgive me. That everyone can forgive me. You can forgive me.” He gradually loosened his grip on you and allowed for your hands to fall away from his. Silence followed as you observed him, still unsure of what to say. He was the one to finally break it though, “No matter what happens from here,” He reached up and tucked a hair behind your ear, “I’m glad we met.”

Then he turned and left, leaving you alone with Ominis. How much he had heard or sensed during your conversation with Sebastian, you weren’t sure, but as you took your place beside him and placed your hand in his, you heard him heave a heavy sigh.

“Poor Sebastian.” He caressed your hand with his thumb as you continued to hold it, “What a mess. I can’t believe it.”

“Me neither.” You sighed as well, leaning back against one of the crates, “A mess indeed.”

“After I last saw you, I went straight to Hogwarts.” He began to explain, “Before I had time to talk to Black, I heard from Anne, so I rushed to Feldcroft and found her with Solomon’s body. She was beside herself with grief. Part of her wants Sebastian to face the consequences, another part can’t bear the thought of it.” He sighed again, a deep and defeated sigh. The two boys’ friendship may have changed over the course of the year, but Ominis still cared deeply for his old friend, that much was clear, “I don’t want to lose Sebastian, but I don’t think we have a choice.

“I think – ” You bit your bottom lip as you thought carefully over Sebastian’s words before continuing, “We do have a choice.”

“What are you saying?” It sounded as though Ominis was in disbelief.

“I’m saying...we don’t have to turn him in.” If you had to be honest, you weren’t perfectly sure if this decision would be the right one to make, but it was the one that you could sit with a tad bit better than the other option, “The relic is gone. So is the spellbook. Totally destroyed. And he clearly regrets everything. I don’t think he’s going to do anything like this again.”

“We’ve both heard that before.” He replied bitterly.

“I know, I know.” You too were frustrated with that fact, but thinking of the boy you saw earlier today after the events of the catacomb, even if it was just a short glimpse, it gave you hope that the Sebastian you first came to know was still in there somewhere, “But I believe him. And turning him in, I feel, would be like punishing Anne as well. She won’t have anyone.”

“She’ll have us.”

You smiled, “Yes, she would. It’s not the same though.” You sighed and let go of his hand, allowing yourself to slide down to the floor, your back still against the crate, “The thing is, I understand Sebastian. I too would do anything to protect the ones that I love and care for.”

“But you wouldn't turn dark.” He mirrored your actions and sat down on the floor beside you.

“No, I wouldn’t. At least, I’d like to believe I wouldn’t.”

He mulled it over in silence for a minute before responding, “I’ll talk to Anne. If it comes from me, she’ll agree with this decision.”

You smiled and cupped his cheek with your palm, “Thank you Ominis. You’re a good friend. That’s exactly what Sebastian needs.” You dropped your hand and placed them in your lap, “I know this year has been difficult and it hasn’t been any easier because of me, but he really could use you by his side right now. I would do it, if I could, but unfortunately I’m a little bit spread too thin at the moment.”

His brows furrowed, “What’s that suppose to mean?”

You told him of the final trial that had taken place just the night before, what you recently discovered of Ranrok’s plan, and the plans you made with the Keepers and Professor Fig to counter them.

“I don’t like it.” He declared sternly, “I don’t like it at all. Whatever lies ahead, we should be facing it together.” He took your hands in his, “You’re putting yourself in danger again. And you’re doing it alone.”

“But I’m not alone.” You smiled reassuringly, although he could not see it, you hoped he could sense it, “Professor Fig will be with me. And he’s gone to inform the other professors as well.” You tugged at him playfully as he continued to keep your hands in his, an attempt to lighten the mood, “The next assignment is easy. I simply have to go to Ollivander’s to fetch something. That’s it.”

“Then I will come with you if it’s so easy.” Your actions didn’t seem to work on him.

“No. Ominis, please. This is for me to do.” You tugged on him once more, “You’re needed here. You still need to speak with Anne and Sebastian needs you.” You tried to reassure him again, “I’m going early – first thing in the morning tomorrow. That way I can be back before lunch. You won’t even have time to miss me.”

“But I always miss you.” He said softly into your ear as he leaned in closer.

You shivered at the caress of his breath and blushed at his words.

Cold, stone floor should not be as comfortable as it was, but with Ominis beside you, your head resting upon his shoulders, his head nestled over yours, and arms entwined with fingers interlocked, you were able to fall asleep soundly in the dimly lit Undercroft.

a/n: Always thankful for each and every one of you. Thank you for the continued readership. And to my new followers: enjoy, but also beware 😈.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡

taglist: @cherry-cola-100 @moonsickness-posts @superblyspeedydragon @plumzlovesfics @costellation-hunter

@drywipes

[mika-sob]

Wolfgang Akire SFW Alphabet

- im delusional chat

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

- this man’s love language is words of affirmation and gift giving

- he will shower you in love, bro is super wholesome

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

- your friendship will definitely get off to a good start no matter what your personality is. he will treat you with respect and care for you

- as a best friend he would get a bit more relaxed, not needing to keep up his professional behaviour 24/7.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

- he loves to cuddle. usually big spoon but in the times where you want to spoon him, he’ll go with it. just be warned, he’ll be a blushing mess

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

- he definitely wants to settle down. he isn’t a ‘playboy’ type and due to his past he wants to create a great family.

- it’s canon that he has no idea how to do laundry, it’s kind of funny. since he never cooked or cleaned for himself, due to his family being rich cause lawyers, he is super bad at keeping rooms clean but tries his best

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

- oh so this is angst yeah uh

- if he needed to break up with you, he’d be definitely in distress, wondering if it might be his fault.

- the day he breaks up with you, her sits you down, trying to keep his cool. he’ll put his professional behaviour back up like a wall, wanting to break up with you gently

- he’ll feel so bad afterwards. tears would be shed behind closed doors

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

- he really likes the idea of commitment. he really only got with you cause he knew you were the one. he handpicked over 200 cases based on his gut feeling, he knows he will be able to grow old with you

- he isn’t really in much of a rush to get married. he’ll make sure about your opinions on marrige and settling down before considering on proposals. though he does want to get married before his 30’s, at least 40’s

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

- super gentle and caring both physically and emotionally. no need for explanations

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

- oh he loves hugs. like loves them so much

- any chance he gets, he’ll hug you, even as simple as a hand around your shoulders or waist.

- his hugs are super warm and comforting. feeling his long arms around you, securely holding you as he rests his chin ontop of your head is like heaven

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

- it does take time even if he loved you at first sight. since young he had many walls up around him, wanting to keep his feelings safe. only once he knows you love him back, he’ll say it as well.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

- when he’s jealous there would be barely any signs. when ever he sees a person trying to be all buddy buddy with you, he passive aggressively shooes them away and sweeps you away.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

- his kisses are like his hugs. soft, warm and gentle. no matter what height you are, he lives kissing your forehead or hand. y’know those fantasy scenes where the prince kisses the princess’s hand? like that. he really loves it when you kiss him on his mole or lips, it’s just so cute

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

- oh he’s amazing with children. like he can calm them down, make them happy, comfort them with only his words. best malewife fr fr

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

- due to his lawyer job, he wakes up pretty early to get ready, but not before kissing your forehead

- on weekends, he also wakes up early cause he still needs to work on his cases. but with enough puppy dog eyes, he’ll definitely cuddle you till you fully wake up, or atleast stay in bed with his computer, combing through your hair with his free hand

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

- mornings usually apply to nighttime as well. he has a lot of work so he doesn’t tend to get home early. after a long day at his office, he’ll cuddle up with you immediately, sometimes falling asleep in his suit

- on days he works at home, he’ll sit in bed with you as you try to fall asleep, working on his computer. he tries not to wake you or disturb you while working but once he looks over at your sleeping figure, he cant help but smile and put his computer away to cuddle you

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

- he’s actually pretty quiet about his opinions. die to his past, it’ll take a while for you to learn how he was raised

- he never wants to overwhelm and burden you with his worries so he might reveal things at a slow pace

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

- oh he has a ton of patience. unless it’s something harmful or hurtful, he doesn’t get angered a lot. it’s the skill of being a lawyer really, he has good composure

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

- he remembers everything. picture perfect memory (make’s his past sadder)

- if you mention a cool book or thing you might like, he’ll gift it to you immediately. even in passing while glancing through a shop’s window. he’ll remember everything about you

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

- when the first ‘i love you’ was said. he will never forget how he felt, butterflies in his stomach as he either heard or said it. it was just so wholesome

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

- oh he is super protective of you, not in a possessive yandere way though. he just makes sure you’re okay and comfortable during anything and everything and will help you calm down if overwhelmed

- honestly he feels protected with the sign of security. being secured down in a life routine and trustworthy relationship makes him warm in the stomach

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

- he is amazing at dates, anniversaries, dates and gifts but chores? that might be too much for him to handle

- he tries his ever so loving best but somehow he does something wrong. he’s so funny and cute

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

- in ulyesses fte, he fomments on when wolfganf and him were bunk buddies, wolfgang would tend to leave his clothes everywhere and even not knocking before going into the bathroom. he was so irritated that he switched rooms to be with wenona

- pretty self explanatory

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

- he wants to look his best for you. he’s always so used to being proper and polite in front of the jury but he puts extra effort when ever he’s metting with you. after a while in the relationship, he’ll let his guard down and not slick his hair back 24/7

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

- yes yes yes

- if you guys ever break up, it’ll damage his emotional state badly. he always thought he had amazing intuition and really picture a future with youso it would break him if things didn’t work out

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

- whenever you hug or kiss him outta no where, he’ll become bright red.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

- if they hurt others intentionally. big no no

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

- takes him a while to actually lie down in bed and try sleep but once his head hits the pillow, he’s out. he won’t even be sleepy but when he lies down and either you’re not there or sleeping, his body just knocks him out. maybe he should get more sleep if it’s that bad 💀

`mika-sob

[kithtaehyung]

ryen is this canon 3tan yoongi talent?

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cvrshx3smOq/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

now i need a hundred plushies from him 😭 he's not going anywhere 😭

“What the fuck?”

He’s laughing. You just witnessed him effortlessly grab a third plushie from a clearly rigged claw machine and he’s laughing!

“No, seriously, this is some wizard shit,” you accuse, unblinking as he bends to grab his prize before wiggling it in triumph. “How are you so good at this?”

“I’m good at everything.”

Your scoff mixes with his mirth as you spin on your heel, arms now chock full of stuffed cats and one cute little frog.

But despite not wanting to further inflate the hot air balloon that’s his ego, you’re so in awe that you can’t help but comment,

“I’ve never seen someone do that before.”

“Yeah?” Beside you, Yoongi fetches something in his pocket. “Not even your brother? I think he got something from that one once.”

“Really?”

“Oh, wait. No, that was me again.”

And the gloater of the century secures his spot.

“I’m so tired of you.”

“Wait, wait,” he huffs out. “Look real quick.”

“Huh?”

As you turn his way, you only get a split second to recognize the phone in his long fingers.

Aimed right at you.

Did he just—

Your reaction should be words, like telling him to stop, or reminding him that he shouldn’t be doing anything much less taking a picture.

But what comes out instead is a blubbering, fumbling mess, and you lunge for the phone right before he backs up, grin stretching his face in the most devilish way.

“Yoongi—!”

“Hmm?”

“What are you—”

“So cute.”

He’s still holding the phone oh god it’s a video?

“Are you recording?”

His burst of laughter gives him away, and the butterfly wings tickling your stomach make you join him, even though you’re hyper hyper hyperaware of your surroundings now.

You don’t even know where the two of you stumble to, but you’re determined to not let him get away, bright colors and lights filling the night on all sides.

Finally, you clutch his hand as you squeeze all the plushies under an arm. “Give it!”

“No!”

“Yes!” You plead through a smile as you yank it from his hand.

But when you look at the screen, you discover that the video wasn’t even being recorded. Because the red button is still sitting there untouched.

…Why are you a tad disappointed?

Yoongi’s voice comes out soft,

“I know we can’t, doll.”

And he sounds a tad disappointed, too.

Still staring at the phone, you make a decision. A quick one. A small one.

But one you make purely for him.

Switching to Photo Mode, you raise the phone up high, scrunching your face against the mini bunch of stuffed animals before capturing this moment.

And it’s not until you hand his device back to him that you realize.

Holy shit.

You really just took a selfie with Yoongi’s phone.

“Keep it,” you whisper. “Or don’t, whatever.”

He’s just staring at you, device almost limp in his hand as he stands there.

“You.. You okay?”

“Come here.”

You’re pulled in before you can question further, a chaste but full kiss planted on your lips before you’re left to your own two feet again.

“Let’s go find them,” he leads, voice low. “I think they’re almost done with the ride.”

“K,” you oblige, shyly following his sure strides and straightened back.

Smiling against a fluffy stuffed cat when you see that he’s still looking at his phone.

—

—

3tanslices: mini-scenarios!

series: three tangerines

[allisluv]

karen or daisy sfw alphabet, perhaps??<3

ahh nonnie i love this! i need more daisy and karen requests! and camila while we're on the subject, too! i promise i'll get around to doing a karen one too at some point so keep an eye out for that :)

pairing: daisy jones x fem!reader

trigger warnings: brief mentions of drugs, alcohol and recovery

A = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

daisy's quite affectionate but it's so subtle that people dont notice from outside of your relationship. she shows affection through her songs and physical touch-- there are threads of you hidden in the lyrics of her songs and she's always holding your hand underneath the table.

B = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

i always imagine a friendship with daisy starting at either an after-party or at one of her shows; maybe she sees you dancing in the crowd and can't help but think how pretty you are. after her setlist, she approaches you and you two start talking and it blossoms into something after that. daisy is so loyal as a best friend and you just know she's going to be brutally honest with you, regardless of the topic at hand.

C = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

daisy loves to cuddle but she won't admit it to anyone. she likes being the big spoon but if she's had a bad day, she likes being the little spoon because it makes her feel safe and secure.

D = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

daisys terrified of commitment but she does imagine a future with you, shes just scared of being abandoned again, so she needs that extra bit of reassurance. daisy is canonically a bad cook and in my head, she's messy, too, but when she sets her mind on something, she can get it done super quickly, especially cleaning.

E = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

as i've said before, daisy is brutally honest, so you just know she's going to tell you straight out. theres no tiptoeing around it. she will just rip the bandaid off and leave. i think once the dust has settled, she reaches out just to make sure you're okay because believe it or not, she does still care.

F = fiance (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

daisys childhood wasn't the best, so shes quite bad when it comes to commitment, but in saying that, she would want to get married on the spur of a moment kind of thing, where the two of you elope in las vegas or something.

G = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

daisy is super gentle physically (apart from when she maybe has a bit too much to drink and loses control of her bodily functions). if we're talking emotionally, she can be really quite vulnerable when she wants to be, but that means she really trusts you.

H = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

daisy likes to make out that shes too tough for hugs but she would sell her soul for a good warm hug. daisy likes hugs after a long set, or after a particularly bad day in her recovery. daisys hugs are tight but cold because she runs cold.

I = i love you (how fast do they say the l word)

daisy keeps her cards close to her chest so it takes her a while to say she loves you, but she definitely thinks it.

J = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they get jealous?)

daisy can get so jealous but she tries not to show it. she gives you the cold shoulder for a while but then she realises she's being silly and apologises for shutting you out (which takes a lot for her to do).

K = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

daisy pours her soul into her kisses. she doesn't do anything half-assed and the same applies when she kisses you. she likes to kiss you on the lips and she likes to be kissed on the neck.

L = little ones (how are they around children)

despite daisy being afraid that she'll fuck her own child up, she is surprisingly good with other people's children. she can get a baby to settle in seconds. she's so good at keeping toddlers entertained too.

M = morning (how are mornings with them spent?)

mornings with daisy are spent waking up to watch the sunrise on your balcony and trying not to be caught by paparazzi. its drinking orange juice straight from the carton and ordering pancakes from the hotels room service.

N = nights (how are nights with them spent?)

nights with daisy are spent giggling as the adrenaline high from your last show begins to wear off and collapsing into bed, makeup still on and clothes strewn around the room.

O = open (when would they start revealing stuff about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

it takes daisy a while to open up to people, especially because she is afraid that you'll use her secrets to gain a bit of fame. when she starts to trust you, she slowly starts to reveal things about herself, starting with small things and then progressing as time goes on.

P = patience (how easily angered are they?)

daisy's a firecracker and she does have a temper, but she can be patient when she wants to be.

Q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you say in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

if daisy's high or drunk, she tends to forget, but when she's sober, she will commit every miniscule detail to her memory and store it away for when she needs it.

R = remember (what are their favourite moments in your relationship?)

daisy doesn't care if it's cliche, her favourite memory is when she first met you.

S = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

daisy is so protective, especially when it comes to protecting you from angry, drunk fans. she would throw her high heels at them if they try to get handsy.

T = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

daisy forgets and then tries to throw something together at the last minute, but it's not done out of cruelty, she just has a mind like a siv.

U = ugly (what are some bad habits of theirs?)

daisy chews her nails down to the bed.

V = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

daisy knows she's pretty but she's not all that concerned with her looks. like, she'll take care of herself, but not to the point where it's obsessive.

W = whole (would they feel complete without you?)

not to be dramatic but daisy would die without you.

X = xtra (a random headcanon for them?)

daisy's favourite flower is something no one has ever heard of. like, she has to explain it because no one has a fucking clue what it is.

Y = yuck (what are some bad habits that they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

daisy hates people who eat with their mouths open.

Z = zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

daisy sleeps with lots and lots of pillows!

[writinginatree]

Loss

Relationship(s): John Wick & daughter!reader, Helen Wick & daughter!reader, John Wick/Helen Wick

Summary: After John and his daughter Y/N retire from the killing business, the girl starts having brutal nightmares about Helen dying, because now that she got a mom she's scared to lose her again. And then she does lose her. But not the way she thought.

Warnings: Nightmares, mentions of canon-typical violence, terminal illness and hospitals, (canonical) character death, grief, implied selective mutism.

John is woken up by a scream, and immediately reaches for a gun which isn't there. No deadly weapons in the house (except, of course, for the ones hidden away hopefully forever under the basement floor) — that's something they had agreed on when they moved into the place. Baba Yaga is no more, that life is behind him, and while Helen knows and accepts his past, she would certainly not have been thrilled if he'd continued to sleep with a gun under his pillow as had been his habit for many years. He didn't want to, anyway. Doing so would be paranoid. It would make him feel like he was inviting his old life to come back and haunt him.

So, no gun. But now, jumping out of bed to follow the scream to his daughter's room, he's wishing he had one.

He throws the door open with so much force it slams against the wall, and storms in. He flicks on the light, but the yellow glow doesn't reveal any intruders like he expected. The room is empty, save for Y/N, who is sitting up in bed now.

No need for a gun after all. Thank God.

John takes a deep breath and forces his racing heart to calm down as he walks to the bed and sits down next to his crying daughter. "Hey, what's wrong? You were screaming."

Helen appears in the doorway too now, and instead of answering, Y/N jumps up and throws herself into her stepmother's arms. Helen makes a surprised sound, but quickly wraps her arms around the girl and holds her close.

"I dreamed you died," she says after a few seconds, her voice shaky and muffled by Helen's shirt.

John hasn't seen her this upset in years, not since she was a very small child. Growing up in the criminal underworld made her tough, and while she occasionally gets nightmares, none of them ever affected her like this before.

He's not sure how to handle it, but luckily Helen seems to have everything under control.

She leads the crying girl back to the bed, still holding her close, and sits down close beside John with Y/N on her lap. His heart grows warm with adoration at how easily she's taking to the role of a mother, the way she's always so concerned for the girl and cares for her like she was her own.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Helen says. "I'm here, honey. We're both here."

"I k-know. I know it— it's stupid, 'm sorry."

Y/N is forcing back her tears and smiles up at her mother, but she can fool neither her nor John. It's obvious she's shaken by the dream a lot more than she wants to admit, which in turn unsettles John. As far as he's aware this is the first time a nightmare has actually affected her. She gets them sometimes, of course — how could she not, growing up surrounded by so much death and violence? — but they've never bothered her.

"It's not stupid. Not at all. I know nightmares can feel very real sometimes. Do you want to tell us about it?"

"I dunno. I think we were in the city somewhere, but it was all d-dark and there were all these people hiding in the shadows. And then one of them came and shot you and— and I was too slow to do anything."

She starts crying again as she's talking, and John wraps his arms around both her and Helen, who's still holding her on her lap. He knows words can't make her feel better right now; he can only shush her and rub her back as he waits for her to calm down.

She does soon enough, after all she has the selfcontrol of a killer.

She lifts her head from the crook of Helen's neck and turns to look up at John, her eyes so big and innocent you'd never guess the horror's they've seen, wiping the tears from her cheeks and sniffling. "Sorry. I'm fine, really. I guess 'm just scared that we haven't actually made it out and that someone's gonna hurt mom."

Her arms tighten around Helen's waist as she says it; John doubts she's even aware of the action.

He nods. "I get that. But that's not going to happen. We're safe. It was just a dream."

Y/N sniffles again and moves closer to him, while still holding on to Helen at the same time. "I know. I just never had a nightmare that felt like this before."

John nods again. Her bad dreams he knows about are usually about people she killed or watched die. Things she already dealt with when awake, nothing out of the ordinary for her, which he can only suppose to be the reason these dreams never seem to bother her. Dreaming about losing her newly acquired mother, on the other hand, is understandably worse. As far as he knows she's never had nightmares about anyone killing — or trying to kill — him or herself. Probably because she thinks he's invincible. Plenty of people have tried to kill him before, but all of them failed. With Helen it's different. God knows he understands why Y/N is scared someone would try and hurt her. She's not a trained killer like them. She's vulnerable. And losing her would kill them both.

They sit in silence for a couple of minutes, John and Helen holding their daughter tightly to give her all the comfort they can.

Eventually Helen leaves the room to make a cup of warm milk with honey to help Y/N fall back asleep, and the way she looks after her, like she fears she'll never return, doesn't escape John. He brushes a hand over her hair and takes one of hers with the other.

"No one will hurt her," he promises. "We've left that life behind. And even if anyone tried — we wouldn't let them get her, would we?"

"No!"

"Exactly. So you don't need to worry, okay?"

His daughter nods, but the fear lingers behind her eyes all the same. John can't think of anything he could say to truly reassure her — not when he secretly shares her fears, not when he has no idea what life will bring — so he just pulls her into his arms and keeps stroking her hair until Helen comes back with the milk.

The next three nights Y/N sleeps undisturbed by nightmares, holding on tight to a stuffed animal Helen gifted her a while ago, and John is almost convinced it won't happen again, that it was a one-time occurrence caused by something triggering her unspoken fears, but then the next night she appears in their bedroom with tears streaming down her face, shaking him awake.

It's 2:41 and John doesn't have to ask why she's awake. She's shaking like a leaf, sobbing as quietly as she can, and he knows this dream was even worse than the last one.

He wordlessly pulls her into a hug with one arm, reaching to turn on the lamp on his nightstand with the other. If it wakes Helen up, then so be it. He'd rather let her sleep, but on the other hand, if the nightmare was about her again Y/N might calm down faster if Helen is awake to help comfort her.

Y/N is sobbing into his shirt, close to hyperventilating, and he's just thinking he'll have to wake Helen because all his efforts of soothing the girl are fruitless, when she starts to stir on her own.

Unlike John with his killer instincts she's not instantly wide awake, and sleepily asks what's wrong. She answers her own question a second later, when her tired mind catches up with the sight of the crying girl before her. "Another nightmare?"

"Yeah. She hasn't said about what yet."

He doubts she could speak even if she wanted to; she's too busy trying to get air into her lungs between sobs.

Helen nods and wastes no time sitting up in bed and scooting over to him and Y/N. She takes the girl's hand into her own and holds it tight to let her know she's there.

Just as John hoped it seems to help, because a few minutes and many soothing words from her parents later, Y/N has finally calmed down enough to turn in her father's arms and reach for Helen. He's almost sure the dream must have been about her again, that feeling her mother's warm skin against her own helps Y/N because it's proof she's alive and well — better proof than just seeing her sleeping form beside him.

"Better?" Helen asks, and Y/N nods, leaning her head back against John's chest and closing her eyes, while a few last tears run down her cheeks. She goes to say something, but doesn't bring out more than a whimper.

John hugs her tighter. "Shh, it's okay. Take your time. You can tell us when you're ready."

He takes the glass of water he has on his bedside table and hands it to her, steadying her shaking hand with his own as she raises it to her lips so she doesn't spill it.

After she drank, she hides her face against him again, and after a moment she says, "I dreamed Viggo wanted you to come back and kill for him, and when you didn't want to he tortured mom to death to make me do it instead."

"Oh, baby. You know I'd never let something like that happen, don't you?" John asks, and hugs her even tighter.

He feels her nod, the wetness of her tears smearing on his neck.

Her breathing is finally back to normal; she's calming down for real, even if the tears are still flowing. John carefully lies down, bringing Y/N with him and laying her close beside him so she rests between him and Helen, her face still buried in the crook of his neck. He doesn't have the heart to send her back to her own bed.

Helen lies back down too, hugging the girl from behind, and with the comfort of both her parents' warm bodies beside her, Y/N eventually manages to fall asleep again.

Meanwhile John lies awake, listens to her and Helen's soft breathing, and worries.

The nightmares never stop. They don't come regularly, but every so often John and Helen are woken up by screams from Y/N's room, or by the girl padding into their room in the dark hours after midnight. The dreams are never quite the same, but all are about Helen dying a brutal death at the hands of people from John's former field of work. The years go by and the nightmares occur less and less often. Sometimes there's months between them, as Y/N finally starts to believe they've truly left the past behind, that she won't lose her mother.

And then Helen gets sick.

Disaster creeps up on them slowly. At first it doesn't seem like anything serious, and they don't tell Y/N, thinking there's no need to unnecessarily worry her. Helen goes to the doctor for regular checkups to make sure it's not getting worse, and it isn't.

Until suddenly it is, and she collapses out of nowhere.

Y/N holds it together surprisingly well at first, too occupied with trying to help to have a meltdown. She stays calm when Helen collapses, stays calm all the way to the hospital. The only sign of distress she lets on is the way she's clutching Helen's hand so tight her own knuckles are turning white.

But the second her mother is out of her sight, wheeled away on a stretcher for throughout examination, she breaks down sobbing in John's arms. He tells her it'll be fine, the doctors will help her. Helen is going to be okay.

She has to be okay, he tells himself, because what would they do without her?

Y/N isn't reassured, even if she does calm down after a while.

When the doctor comes back with a bad diagnosis and a worse prognosis she turns to John and silently cries into his chest.

But when they finally let them go see Helen in the hospital room they've given her, she puts on a brave face for her mother and only lets a single tear fall.

That night she doesn't sleep at all, and neither does John. After the nurses more or less throw them out because visiting hours are over, they drive home in silence; once there, Y/N wordlessly curls up in her parents' bed with her face buried in Helen's pajama shirt she fished out of the laundry basket, and refuses to move or speak. She doesn't acknowledge John lying down next to her, only keeps staring at the wall with empty eyes. When he tells her she should try to get some sleep and starts singing a lullaby she just shakes her head and pushes away his hand stroking her hair.

Then she starts crying again, and so does he.

They visit Helen at the hospital every day, spend as much time there as the hospital staff will allow, and watch as she gets weaker with every day that goes by, until it gets to the point that Helen tells him not to let Y/N see her like that.

It only takes a breakdown in the hallway and John telling her she's breaking the girl's heart to change her mind, and when Y/N finally gets her daily hug from her mom that day, she spends almost half an hour crying in her arms.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I just don't want you to remember me like this when I'm gone," Helen tells her, trying to explain she was hoping to ease the heartbreak and not make it even more painful, but Y/N only grows more upset.

"Don't say that; you're not gonna die! You can't. We need you, mom! We need you!"

Helen only presses her tighter against herself and stays silent. The way she looks at John has him fighting back tears of his own. She knows she will die, nothing can change that. She tells him so much without uttering a single word; all her love for him and his daughter, her regret that she has to leave them, certainty that they will be fine when she's gone.

He wants to believe it, but he can't.

When Helen eventually slips into a coma and the only thing keeping her alive are the machines she's hooked up to, all hope is gone. As bad a state as Helen was in, there was still that tiny sliver of irrational hope that she would get better somehow. Reality sets in like a slap to the face. She's not going to wake back up, isn't going to survive. If they turn off the life support she'll be gone forever.

Somehow Y/N, who has been insisting that Helen will be okay, that she isn't allowed to leave them, accepts faster than him that this really is the end. Though 'accepting' in this case means crying for two days straight and refusing to speak.

They visit Helen anyway, watch over her lifeless body and hold her limp hands. She looks so calm, like she's just sleeping and all they'd have to do to get her back is shake her hard enough. Y/N tried it, when Helen first fell into the coma. It was useless, of course. But while she finally accepts that they have to let her go, John is paralyzed with fear at the thought of turning off the life support and letting her go. He knows she's practically dead already, but turning off the only thing keeping her body alive feels like killing her.

But life has to go on, for his daughter's sake, if not for his own, so he finally brings himself to do it.

The funeral is hell. Neither John nor Y/N cry; they've cried endless tears before it and they will cry more later, but neither of them are comfortable breaking down in front of the strangers that are Helen's extended family. John thinks the dark circles under Y/N's bloodshot eyes speak more than loud enough to make up for her lack of words or tears.

When Helen was admitted to hospital, Y/N started to talk less and less, until eventually she hardly spoke at all. Now that Helen is dead, she's down to a handful of words a day — if John can get her to say anything at all, that is. Truth be told he doesn't feel like talking either, but he has to try and hold it together so he can hold Y/N together. Before Helen came he was the only family she had — not counting the ruska roma, because their idea of family had nothing to do with love or care — so she's never experienced the loss of a loved one, and it's taking an obvious toll on her.

She copes by withdrawing into herself. Sometimes she comes to John and cries in his arms, but more often she wants to be alone. It worries John, but he doesn't know what to do about it. It's not like he can force her to let him be there for her.

After the funeral, when the house is filled with people she doesn't know, she sticks to his side for a little while, holding his hand as she follows him around like a smaller shadow. Eventually she gets tired and settles into a corner of the living room, while John stares out the window and reminisces.

Little more than five years, that's all the time the universe granted him with Helen. It wasn't long enough, that's all he can think. Not nearly long enough. And there's no one he can blame for her loss, so naturally he blames himself. He could have protected her from any outside harm, could have fought off anyone trying to hurt her, but he couldn't do anything to save her from the illness turning her own body against her. He could blame the doctors, but he knows they tried everything they could. Maybe this is retribution for everything he's done, all the people he killed...

His daughter's voice yelling, "I said don't touch me!" rips him out of his thoughts, and he turns away from the window just in time to see her slap away the arm of a woman trying to hug her. A younger cousin or something of Helen's, he thinks, but he's not sure. He hardly knows most of the people who came for the funeral.

Y/N dashes up the stairs to hide in her room.

The woman shakes her head with a pitiful expression, and he hears someone mutter, "Poor thing."

He feels eyes boring into him, and knows an apology for his daughter's behavior is expected, but he can't bring himself to give it. She's done nothing wrong. This grief she has to deal with is new to her, and she doesn't want the comfort of strangers. She hardly even accepts his comfort when he offers it.

When she still hasn't come back down twenty minutes later, he goes to her room with the intention to ask her if she won't please come back down, but when he finds her not in her own room but in a corner of the bedroom, curled up on the floor and sobbing into one of Helen's shirts, with the teddy she got from her clutched to her chest, he knows there's no use.

He approaches her carefully, like one would a hurt animal, and sits next to her with enough space that she won't feel cornered. "Hey honey. What are you doing on the ground?"

She looks up at him but doesn't answer. Of course he doesn't really need an answer, it's obvious enough what she's doing. Just another failed attempt to get her to talk again.

"You wanna stay up here till everyone's left?"

She nods.

"Okay. Do you want me to stay with you?"

This time she shakes her head, and John can't tell if it's because she wants to be alone or because she knows he should be downstairs with his late wife's relatives.

He sighs. "Alright. If you need anything send me a text then I'll come, okay?"

She nods again. With another sigh John leans down to press a kiss to her forehead, and leaves her be, making sure his phone is in his pocket and on vibrate as he heads back to the living room.

He's glad when everyone has finally left, and quickly starts tidying up. He never knew just how tiring funerals can be, and can't wait to just sit down and mourn his wife in peace. Maybe cuddle with Y/N a little; he really shouldn't let her hide away all by herself so much.

The doorbell rings.

When he opens, a delivery person hands him a pet carrier. He mechanically signs for it, too exhausted to question who sent it, or why. Taking it into the living room he grabs the envelope laying on top and takes out the card inside.

He opens it, and tears spring to his eyes when he recognizes Helen's handwriting.

'John,' the card reads, 'I'm sorry I can't be there for the both of you. I know you'll need something to help you bring back Y/N's smile, something for her to love. So let her start with this, because your car doesn't count. Don't let her bury away her feelings for fear of more pain. And don't you do it, either. Take care of each other. I love you, John. This illness has loomed over us for a long time, and now that I have found my peace, find yours. Until that day, your best friend, Helen.'

John presses the card to his face and cries. He thinks there's a faint trace of Helen's favorite perfume on the paper, but that's probably just his imagination.

When he calms down he sees there's a second card, addressed to Y/N, and he puts it aside for her to read later.

Finally he turns his attention to the puppy. It has lain down in the box, seemingly resigned to whatever fate awaits it, and looks up at him with its big dark eyes when John reaches out to open the carrier. He gently takes the tiny dog in his hands and lifts it from the crate, holding it up in front of him so he can look at the name tag on the collar it's wearing.

Daisy. Of course. It's so typically Helen he almost starts crying again.

After taking a deep breath and wiping the tears from his face he calls for Y/N.

She takes her time, and John is about to call her again when she finally shuffles into the room, a big fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders trailing on the floor behind her, her eyes red from crying.

When she sees the dog she freezes. "What—?"

"It's a gift from Helen. I guess she wanted to make sure we don't get too lonely without her. Come here."

Once she sat down beside him, John moves the dog to Y/N's lap.

"Her name's Daisy."

She stares at the puppy with wide eyes, then back at John. Her bottom lip is trembling when she asks, "Did mom name her that?"

"Yeah."

Finally Y/N starts petting her, bringing her hand to the puppy's head so slowly and carefully like she's scared she'll break her.

She smiles at Daisy when she nuzzles against her hand. It's small, hardly more than the hint of a smile, she's crying again, the circles under her eyes are darker than ever against her pasty skin, and her lips are chapped and dry from crying so much, but none of that matters, because for the first time in what feels like an eternity she's smiling. A small smile, but real.

When her eyes shift to him, John realizes he's crying again too, except these are tears of relief, because it's been too long since he's seen a sincere smile on his daughter's face.

He pulls her into a hug, careful not to squeeze the dog, who's now licking Y/N's face. Apparently her tears taste good, because Daisy just keeps licking them, and Y/N giggles. She giggles. Just for a second, then she starts sobbing all the harder, but the sound is music to John's ears all the same.

Daisy starts whining, probably confused because being held by a sobbing girl isn't something she's experienced in her short life so far.

John waits, hopes for a reaction from Y/N, who has been apathetic to the world around her for too long, hopes the dog will draw her out of her shell.

He's not disappointed.

She draws back from the hug a little so she can lift Daisy and press her face into her fur, whispering something too quiet for John to hear. Whatever it is she said, it seems Daisy understands. She stops whining, and licks Y/N's face again.

When she sets her down on her lap, the dog turns and stands on her hind legs to try and lick John's face too.

He leans back to try and escape the wet dog kisses. "Hey, no. Don't do that."

Daisy stays stubborn, so he gently pushes her back toward his daughter, who seems to enjoy getting dog slobber all over her face.

When John goes to bed, Y/N is already curled up on it with Daisy, both of them sleepy-eyed and barely awake. He looks pointedly at the blanket he laid out for the dog beside the bed, but doesn't scold them. He's glad how quickly Daisy won the girl's heart, and doesn't want to disturb their peaceful cuddling session. If Y/N wants the dog to sleep in bed, then the dog will sleep in bed. He admittedly doesn't actually mind the idea himself, even if he's pretty sure dogs aren't supposed to be sleeping in their owners' beds.

He gets into bed and Y/N snuggles against his side, soon falling asleep.

She's lying on her back, her head turned toward him, Daisy on her chest. The hand that isn't holding the sleeping dog is balled into his shirt, like even in her dreams she's afraid she'll lose him, too, if she lets go. Despite that, she's doing a lot better than just a day before.

The past weeks, ever since Helen was admitted to hospital, she cried herself to sleep every night, sometimes in his and Helen's bed, sometimes in her own, and John knows it's the dog that helped her fall asleep peacefully tonight. He silently thanks Helen for being so foresightful, for knowing them so well, knowing what they'd need. The loss of her still hurts more than any physical pain he's ever been in, but he's starting to believe that maybe it doesn't have to destroy him. Maybe they can get through this. It won't be easy, but maybe they can continue to live this peaceful normal life even without Helen. That's why she sent them Daisy to guide their way. So they don't tumble back into darkness without her.

He silently promises her he'll do his best to keep Y/N and Daisy happy and safe, and maybe, with time, even be happy again himself. He knows that's what she'd want.

[billerak]

Bumble that Bee or something idk

I recently finished RWBY (catching up after years leaving it aside) and I have thoughts and feelings and, as I am me, a lot of those are about the canonical WLW couple (sans the secondary wives in V6). So I put my thoughts into a rant. It's not as negative as the word 'rant' would have you believe but I don't wanna call it an essay or whatever. It's still pretty negative tho, so be warned. Anyways on with it:

RWBY is a mess.

Sometimes, it's a wonderful mess. Others, it's a terrible one.

I could spend a few paragraphs explaining what I mean, but I think anyone who watches RWBY with a critical eye knows what I'm getting at. Love RWBY, hate RWBY, just don't try to tell me it's good.

So, once that's established, let's get to the meat of this rant: Bumblebee.

Or should I say Fumblebee? Eh? EH?

Alright you can stop reading, have a good day.

Let me start by making a sharing something about myself: I'm Agender and Bi/Pan. I make a living out of writing yuri/gl/wlw or however you wanna call it. I watch entire seasonal fucking anime on the off chance it may be yuri and most of the time I hate myself for it by the end because they never fucking deliver.

All of this is to say, I like the concept of Bumblebee, the problem is it was treated like shit.

In this rant or whatever the fuck I should call it, I'm just going to talk about the things this ship makes me feel. As established I make a living out of writing romances like the one this show tried to depict—and in case you're wondering, I have written slowburns so slow the first romantic interactions between characters didn't happen until 300k words into a fic. I did it twice, fyi—so I believe I have fair grounds to judge this.

So let's tackle this from the beginning. Was it planned from the start?

No, I don't take the writers word for it. It's painfully apparent it's not the case. I'm fairly certain BlackSun was gonna be a thing until they decided to write him out of the story in V6. Or perhaps they decided on Bumblebee and so they wrote him out of the story. Either way, everything prior to V6 I call into question.

Sure, Blake and Yang have their moments. But it's important to point out they're not romantically coded. RWBY isn't subtle about romance, and it starts pulling the same sort of obvious romantic tropes as all the het stuff going on in the show for Bumblebee going into V7. Prior to that? Nothing. Not a single blush or any explicit show of romantic attraction.

And before any disingenuous bastard tries to say something like "oh but blushes aren't always romantic" or "no you don't need blushes to show romantic attraction" allow me to say you are fucking wrong. Blushing is the universal language for embarrassment or love related things. And RWBY uses this shit all the time. INCLUDING Bumblebee past V7.

So yeah, while the writers probably did draw from previous material—and I think the VA's shipped them since the start?—I do not believe this ship was planned from the beginning.

But that's ok! I don't think it's a huge issue, really. Sure I'd have liked to see actual development but I don't need it to work retroactively if it makes sense from the moment they decide to go for it. So, 3 volumes and a half of development. Lots of time to put in the work, add the details, and-

Oh, no. Wait. They spend most of V8 separated. Hmm. K' so, 2 volumes and a half-

Wait. Oh. Oh they… they really have that little screentime together in V6, huh. Wow. Just. Huh.

Ok, the Adam fight is good. It's a strong setup! After fighting and making up for what Blake did after the Fall of Beacon, they finally come together to beat the demon that drew them apart in the first place. They hold each other close after beating him and it's good and I'm gonna say this is when they both actually fall for each other. We can argue about budding feelings or whatever, but I mean this is the moment they become aware of it one way or another.

So Volume 7 has them kinda being together? Honestly, they act like a new couple. Which is weird in retrospect. I think revealing they'd started dating after V6 would have made more sense than, uh... pretending this was a slowburn? Through V7 they stick to each other and fight in perfect synch and blush and all of that romantic stuff. It feels like… well, like they're kind of already an item but the show has other shit to worry about atm.

Then v8 is amazing really. Split the characters over an honestly kind of nonsensical ideological split, keep them apart most of the season, make Yang to be kiiind of an asshole in that one conversation with Kyle (<- my name for the post-v7 Generic McGenericus haircut Jaune. Yes this unironical, the friend I ranted to about this while watching the show can confirm).

To add insult to injury, the split doesn't even accomplish anything for the ship. The only two characters that get development out of being apart are Ren and Nora. These characters were CLEARLY in love last season why are they not having appropriate amounts of angst over this? Like, at this point we're not arguing whether they were planning on making Bumblebee canon or not, the point is asking why it feels like they weren't trying.

And then, Volume 9. For some context, I like V9. I think I'm in a minority, at least in the places I frequent about this stuff. Always comes with the caveat of 'it's still RWBY', of course, but I appreciate it. After the initial whiplash, I think making a fairy-tale season for a show that was born out of the concept of "what if Red Riding Hood had a sick scythe and used it to mow down hundreds of bad wolves" is actually a really fucking good idea.

That being said, the way they do Bumblebee is really strange.

They're basically back to their V7 selves. It feels like they're either already dating or on the verge of dating. I need to stress just how comfortable they seem to be around each other with the sole exception of that one time Blake didn't grab Yang's hand, but it didn't feel particularly awkward.

Then BOOM mind storm thing and while Ruby, Weiss and Jaune talk about like, actual issues, Jaune implies Blake and Yang had 'something more important to deal with'. And that something is RWBY's version of the room you can't leave unless you have sex.

Sans the sex I guess.

In the void, I think the scene(s?) is good. It's nice, the music is evocative, it's well framed and paced. In another story, it would really have been a perfect climax for a budding relationship.

The problem is this is not another story. These two have NOT seemed like two people awkwardly in love too scared to tell it to each other. In fact, it kinda felt like the exact opposite. If they kissed at the end of any episode for any reason, at this point, it would've felt correct. A simple quiet stare while sitting close and them just finally leaning in to take that final step would've been just as good if not better.

The bridge thing? It's the climax to an arc that didn't happen. Relationships don't need to be slowburns for me to like them, but if you're gonna pretend you were making a slowburn, at least do it right. Why did they need the bridge thing to finally get together? Come on! There was plenty of opportunity during V9 prior to this episode to at least make a show of them being awkward. Make it clear they were finally on the verge but were holding back on the final step. Make it actually cause some conflict, preferably between them as their fear grows into uncertainty and doubts.

Then the bridge would've felt cathartic. Force them to resolve said conflict, and the only way to do it is through admitting their feelings. Sure, it would've still been few episodes, but fuck man I'm sure they could've scraped a few minutes here and there to make it somewhat competent.

I like Bumblebee as a concept. I think the avid fans of this ship look at the concept, not at what the show did, and say "this is canon" and run with it. I don't blame anyone who is a big fan of this ship but… I just can't like it in its current state. I'm sure there's fanfics that fix it, I may give some a read.

Hell, just compare Bumblebee's development to Renora. Those guys have been kind of obviously in love from second one and Nora's entire character being focused on Ren was made into an actual plot point by the end.

Anyways that's about it for bumblebee. Here's some extra thoughts on shipping in RWBY in general.

If we look at the earlier seasons, I honestly think you'd have a stronger argument to make for White Rose being a couple. If we look at the later seasons, Nuts n' Dolts has a stronger impact. I already mentioned it but Blake/Sun had obviously a thing going on that didn't pan out. I hope chameleon girl whose name I don't remember gets a gf at some point tho.

I pray to fucking god they're not building up fucking Oscar and Ruby cuz they had a few awkward scenes here and there and they make me feel wrong in all sorts of ways.

Given how little interaction Ruby and Weiss have had despite how much time they've supposedly spent together, I think the writers are making an active effort to discourage White Rose. I'm not gonna get into the author's self insert being a love interest for Weiss at one point but let's just say the writers seem invested in making extra-sure Weiss stays het. I've made my peace with that. And Penny is fucking dead again so Nuts n' Dolts is a no go (canonically I mean I may read a fanfic or two about them they're very cute).

If they're gonna give Ruby a relationship by the end (which I kinda hope they don't at this point), I think it should be Kyle. They've had nice moments together and seriously shipping Oscar with Ruby just feels fucking weird. Like I assume Ozma's gonna be fucking gone from Oscar's body by the end of this story but even then idk that guy had a centuries old man is his head, it's fucked up.

Anyways that's enough. Why did you read to the end? Thanks for reading anyways.

[splatooshy]

okay so here is the second and final part of (this ask). my answers are a bit shorter but i wanted to fit it all in (pardon the pun)

damon salvatore nsfw alphabet, h-z:

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

likes to make himself pretty and somewhat hairless, with his suggestive little happy trail leading to a manscaped groin. the carpet does, in fact, match the drapes (it would be weird if it didn’t, no?)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

the first time he confessed his love for katherine was when she pegged him (see part one, sect. C)

gets confused between love and lust, as per his canon pining.

definitely has fun playing all lovestruck with human flings.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

why jack off when he can have actual sex?? no but i’m 100% certain he’s masturbated to stefan and elena having sex. and stefan and katherine. because he’s freaky like that.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

enjoys nipple play a little too much. i’m pretty sure that’s actually canon.

he’s also highkey a masochist. which is awkward considering how often he gets tortured.

see part one, section D (dirty secrets).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his bed, obviously. it’s custom made (like a super king bed but bigger) and extra sturdy (no twilight bed breaking here!) for maximum fun.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

fighting. he picks fights with EVERYONE. often in the hopes that they’ll pin him down and hate fuck him.

literally everything turns him on 😭

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

getting slapped in the face.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

i just KNOW he prefers to give - it pleases his ego to know that he can make people turn to jelly with just his tongue. he definitely excels at it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

again, i think he really enjoys playing different parts with his human flings - lovestruck idiot, bad boy etc. so it differs. but he definitely gets uncomfortable when it’s slow and sensual with another vampire.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

loves a good quickie - him and ric while hunting vamps?? or in the bathroom at one of the million town events?? the only sex he loves more than a quickie in the middle of some boring luncheon is a multiple day long sex marathon.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’ll try anything once. twice, if he’s still on the fence about it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

vamp stamina kinda rules this one out. but i think he can hold out for hours if he so wishes (he rarely does). i feel like with him, foreplay is more important than the actual sex. and takes up 2/3 of the time.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

see prev (c). the question is, what toys DOESN’T he own. uses them on himself mostly - no partner of his needs to use any toys, and if they did, it would be because they’re using them on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s a TOTAL tease. but once he gets under the sheets, he’d rather be teased. he’s a brat through and through.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

embarrassingly needy whines, *very* loud, lots of hitched breaths, choked groans & moans. will try and stifle them but gives that up eventually. begs on rare occasions only.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he has 100% been a stripper —sorry, exotic dancer— for a kink club. easy feeding, free drinks, gets paid to look pretty??? dream job. like, in a human AU, damon defs says he’s gonna drop out and become a stripper at every minor inconvenience. maybe even does do it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

imagining the x-ray goggles poster but it’s stefan looking disgusted as damon walks by.

what’s under his clothes? nothing. absolutely nothing. he refuses underwear on “moral principle”, or so he says. why do i feel like the only underwear he owns is all sexual 😭 like the sluttiest things possible — oh. my god. damon in a lacy g-string???? canon.

probably wears a cock ring on occasion. perhaps even a plug (to make himself pretty for elijah) . at one point he had a prince albert piercing. and nipple piercings at multiple points in time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

even for a vampire, damon’s libido is impressive. and spontaneous — he gets horny at all of a sudden at inopportune moments. definitely makes fun of his brother for being stuck with a teenager’s sex drive & stamina, even though his is not much better. a perk of that is he can come multiple times with little to no refractory period. and enjoys being fucked even after he finishes.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

conks out during post coital snuggles, if his partner isn’t ready to go again. tells them to wake him up when they are 💀 (or just play with him until he wakes). i feel like he and enzo fall asleep like little otters (holding hands so as to not drift away). he will wake up the instant something changes — if damon finds that ric’s trying to remove his limbs while damon’s happily asleep one more time, i swear to god——

[notes-from-sarah]

Graveside

Rating: G/K

Length: 6k words

Link on AO3, FFN

Summary: As Magneto lays his Anya to rest, he’s lost everyone he’s ever loved. Years later, he visits his daughter’s graveside again, this time accompanied by Wanda and Pietro. Claremont canon compliant. 70s-80s X-Men canon compliant.

A/N:

1953 portion takes place after Classic X-Men (1986) #12, “A Fire in the Night!”, 1983 portion takes place after Vision and the Scarlet Witch (1982) #4.

During this period of the comics, Magneto’s real name was Magnus so that’s the name I use in this story.

I’m using my own approximation on the timelines because comicbook math doesn’t always add up.

Since Wanda’s powers are very inconsistent throughout the comics I’m doing my own take.

1953

“Magda!” Magnus’ voice cracked, the smoke and heat had scorched his throat raw. Magda didn’t slow down, didn’t look back. He wanted to run after her, to catch hold of her and make her understand. But her couldn’t leave Anya. Magnus dropped to his knees in front of her small body. He wanted to stay there forever, he couldn’t believe what had happened. It just couldn’t be real.

The inn continued to burn and in the distance others were beginning to be alerted to the fact. Magnus knew he needed to go. There was nothing left for him here. There was nothing left at all. Taking off his coat he wrapped it tenderly around Anya’s body as a shroud. The final embrace he could not give her. Her body was so small.

The smell of ash and burned flesh filled his nostrils and made him choke. Bodies, burning bodies. So many bodies. Day after day with no end in sight. Magnus had thought he’d put that all behind him, thought that the nightmare was over. Apparently there was no escape.

Lifting Anya into his arms, Magnus began to walk. Once, there had certainly been a Jewish cemetery in this city, but he could not count on that any more. He would have to make do. Being careful to avoid the citizens who were beginning to stream towards the still flaming inn, Magnus wove through streets and alleys towards the edge of the city.

Magnus wasn’t sure how far he walked or for how long. More than anything he wished Magda was here with him, he wasn’t sure he could do this alone. How could she leave him and Anya at a time like this? Did she really care so much for those animals that had caused the death of their daughter? Was his slaying of them really so monstrous? He wanted to be angry, he wanted to be hurt, to scream or cry or something, instead a familiar numbness settled over him. Magnus just kept walking.

The night was deep and dark by the time he made it to the edge of the city. In the distance he could hear a train. He kept going. He had to find a place where his little girl wouldn’t be disturbed. Out past the edge of the city, the landscape resolved into countryside. Farms flanked the road on either side and Magnus knew the farm houses weren’t too far away. He needed to go further.

Turning off the road he walked on. His thoughts beginning to fill with memories of Anya. She had loved her mountain town in the Carpathians. She was close friends with some of the other children of the village and they could always be found playing together under Magda’s watchful eye. She did all the things you would expect a child to do. She climbed trees and skinned her knees and elbows. She caught bugs and frogs and stalked birds through the forest. She would pick handfuls of flowers to bring back to her papa all summer long, dirt smeared on her cheeks, her hair full of twigs.

She was such a bright and beautiful child, she was every bit as eager to learn as he was. He would teach her the names of the flowers and trees and he had been in the process of teaching her to read. She was starting to understand the alphabet and would sit on his knee puzzling out a book while he was studying a book of his own trying to teach himself algebra or geometry. Magda would say they were quite the pair of scholars. Magnus had always dreamed that his daughter would have the education he never did.

Magnus shifted the small burden in his arms. Wasn’t it just yesterday that he had carried her like this when she’d fallen asleep on the train? She had been so excited for her first trip away from the village. She had seen a picture of a locomotive in a book, but their remote village was nowhere near any tracks. When she finally saw one in real life she was ecstatic. She had said “Papa, they do exist!” He had joked and told her a fairy tale about how trains used to be dragons a long time ago, but had transformed themselves so they could help people get from place to place very fast. You could tell it was true because the trains still had the dragon fire in their bellies. Anya, of course, had believed him. She believed everything he told her. Even the lies like “I’ll always take care of you.”

Coming to the edge of a river, Magnus began to follow its course. He had no idea what the river was called or even where he was, but none of that mattered anymore. He walked on, the dark pressing in on him. Anya was still afraid of the dark. Often, she would wake in the middle of the night and crawl into bed with him and Magda. Magnus didn’t much care for the dark either. Almost any hardship or indignity could be endured in the daylight hours, but come nightfall such things became unbearable. It was just the way of things.

Coming to a rickety bridge, probably one shoddily made for local use, Magnus crossed over the river and found himself in wilder country. Crossing an overgrown field Magnus paused, his senses flaring as he felt something nearby. This power that he had was alerting him to the presence of something metal. Reaching out a hand, Magnus called to the metal laying half-buried in the dirt. To his surprise, the object leapt from its resting place and jumped into his hand. It was a steel bar, maybe forty-five centimeters long and quite hefty. It must have fallen off some farming equipment, but Magnus realized it could serve a purpose instead of rotting away to nothing. Sliding the steel bar through his belt, Magnus kept walking.

Finally, Magnus came to a stand of trees. Anya always loved the forest, she spent much of her days playing in them when the weather was nice. He hoped she would like these trees, they weren’t her friends from the mountains but they’d have to do.

Magnus made his way with some caution now, one never knew what sort of animals lived in a forest. In the mountains he was always careful about bears and wolves and feral dogs. The night was even darker here, Magnus found himself navigating more by instinct than anything else. Thick pine trees overgrew the entire area with a smattering of broad leaf trees in the mix, the forest floor was carpeted thick with needles and his footsteps were practically silent. Picking his way through the untamed brambles, Magnus found at last what he had come for.

A tall elegant tree stood in something of a clearing. Its branches arched high over the earth and the clean scent of pine filled the air. This was a place that could be made sacred. Gingerly, Magnus placed Anya in a cradle of knotted roots at the base of the tree. Then, drawing the steel bar from his belt, he began to dig.

The steel bar was better than nothing, but the process was slow as he carved away the soil. He tried not to think about how Magda should be here to hold their child while he dug. He tried not to think about how she’d abandoned him, abandoned Anya. How she hadn’t even wanted to say goodbye to their daughter. He tried not to think about Magda at all.

Scooping out soil with hands and steel, Magnus began to see the resemblance of a hole. It didn’t need to be very big, Anya was such a little girl. The soil embedded itself under his nails and stained his skin with its rich black color. The smell of the freshly turned soil threw him back to his own childhood. The smell of soil and lime as he’d dug his way out of a grave. Thinking back on it now, Magnus wasn’t sure why he’d bothered. Why did he keep living when everyone else died?

Magnus struggled as his improvised tool began to strike tree roots. If only instead of a bar it was a blade, then it would hardly slow him down at all. He was strong and would not stop until the task was complete. The bar seemed to react to his thoughts. It twitched in his hand and a current of energy flowed between himself and the steel. He wasn’t sure how this magic power worked, but earlier that day when he wanted something all he had to do was think about it. So he did just that once more. Focusing his mind on the blade he desired, Magnus gripped the steel letting the current flow back and forth between himself and the bar. The metal began to morph, and within moments it now had a razor keen edge. Magnus was mystified. How had he come to do this? Was he really some sort of freak, a monster cursed with unnatural powers? He didn’t know what to think, all he knew was that he had to keep digging.

The first light of dawn was creeping up the sky when the melancholy task was complete. Deep enough to not attract animals, the small grave was unlikely to be disturbed. Magnus went back to the roots of the tree and picked up Anya once more. One last time. Sitting with his back to the tree he cradled her small body. He wanted to weep, wanted to shed the tears his little girl deserved. But he could not. The numbness inside him was absolute. It was just another death.

Reaching up, he unclasped the necklace he wore. It was a gift from Magda, a gold Star of David she had given him when they got married. It was very small, it had not cost very much, but he wore it every day. He pulled back the coat and laid the necklace on Anya’s heart. “A gift from your mother and me,” he whispered. Anya had so often played with it when he was rocking her before bed. He had promised her that one day when she was big he would buy her one of her own. He had promised her so much.

Tucking the folds of the coat around his little girl once more, Magnus sat and rocked her, singing her favorite lullabies for the last time. He remembered so long ago when his grandfather had died. His father and nine other men from the community had come to say the Kaddish at the graveside. It has to be ten people, he’d been told. This is how we support each other in a community, his father had said. He had no community, one else at all, the lullabies would have to do.

The orange slivered edge of the sun peaked over the horizon and Magnus knew he couldn’t put this off any longer. Rising to his feet, Magnus brought Anya to the grave and lowered her in as if he were laying her in her bed after she had fallen asleep in his arms. For a long moment he gazed on the small bundle before he lifted his arm and let the first handful of soil fall onto Anya’s body. Handful after handful he filled the grave with the black earth. It was the burial he never got to give his family, the burial denied to so many of his people. A part of him could still feel the metal of the necklace, even when Anya was completely covered. With each handful it seemed like a part of him was being buried, too. The love he’d had for his wife and child, the dreams he’d had of earning a college degree, the life he’d hoped to give Anya as she grew up. All of it gone. All he had left was the smell of burning and the taste ashes in his mouth.

When all the soil had been replaced, Magnus took the steel bar. Turning it over in his hands, he pondered if his newfound powers might make a suitable grave marker for Anya. He hated to think that one day he would forget where he buried her. That he would be unable to find her again. Focusing his mind and feeling that inhuman energy flowing through him, he pulled and stretched the steel this way and that until he had a solid plate, decently sized and roughly square, in his hands. Was there anything this power could not do? If only he had discovered it just a few days earlier.

Even a feeling of regret could not break through the numbness as he traced his fingertip over the metal. The power still charged through him and wherever he traced his finger, an impression formed in the steel. Carefully working in Hebrew, he wrote the appropriate inscriptions as near as he could. His own studies of Hebrew had been limited, but he wanted to give Anya the proper marker no one else in his family had received. In smaller letters at the bottom of the plate he repeated everything in Russian, hoping that if some Soviet found this resting place they might have pity on a little girl and leave her be.

The steel plate gleamed in the morning sun which shone between the tree trunks. Something bright and pretty for Anya, it was the best he could do. His final gift to his daughter. Lastly, at the top of the plate, he drew a Star of David. Then, as he sang Anya a final lullaby, he buried the edges of plate in the earth at the head of Anya’s grave.

Standing and brushing the soil from his clothes, Magnus looked at the final resting place for his daughter. He stood there a while wishing for some tears to come, but they would not. He couldn’t even give his daughter the grief she deserved. Maybe he was a monster. At last, he knew he had to go. He had to try and find Magda, talk some sense into her. He had to find her and leave this revolting country. Maybe it was time to go to Israel. Maybe, at last, he could find some safety there.

“Don’t be frightened of the dark, my dear. I will come back and visit you very soon.” With that, he turned and walked away.

1983

“I want you to take a trip with me today, please, it won’t take very long.” Magneto stood on Wanda’s doorstep, the cool early morning breeze tugging at his clothes, the sun only just up. Wanda was surprised to see him, he hadn’t exactly phoned ahead, but this was important.

“Come in,” Wanda stepped back from the door and waved him inside. She was dressed in a deep purple that suited her red-brown hair more than one would suspect. It struck Magneto once again how very much like Magda she looked. He also thought he saw hints of his own mother in her face, maybe even his sister. How foolish he must have been to be around her and her brother and not even recognize them.

Stepping inside, Magneto saw Pietro sitting on the couch, bouncing Luna in his arms. Pietro’s daughter had grown so much in the months since last he’d seen her. “Good,” Magneto said, “the both of you are here, that will save a trip to the moon.” Wanda exchanged a glance with her brother. Magneto knew they were both still wary of him after he had coerced them into being part of his Mutant brotherhood. For him, that had been another lifetime. He didn’t even recognize the man he’d been back then. That didn’t change things for them, however. They still didn’t trust him. He didn’t blame them.

“What is it?” Wanda prompted.

Magneto glanced between his two children. Only recently had they learned of their true connection to each other. Regret over missing so much of their lives stung at him. “I wanted you to come with me to visit the grave of your sister.”

“Our… sister?” Wanda said, clearly taken off guard.

“You never told us we had a sister,” Pietro said, somewhat accusingly. His deep frown reminded Magneto of his own.

Magneto crossed his arms over his chest. He’d been meaning to tell them about Anya from the start, he just never found the right way to say it. “She died a few months before you were born. Her name was Anya. Today is the anniversary of her death.” All those years ago he’d promised to come back, so far he’d never had the courage to do so. For years he’d tried to forget everything in his past, his human wife and daughter and life and just bury himself in being a Mutant. Maybe, he had thought, if he pretended that none of that happened, that none of that mattered, he could be free of all the pain that went with it. Since his rebirth a few years ago, however, he couldn’t pretend anymore. Who he was and what he had been through were as inescapable as time itself. He couldn’t run from himself any longer. It was time Anya’s papa paid her a visit.

Wanda came over to Magneto and took him by the arm, guiding him to the couch. “Why don’t you tell us a little more about all of this. This is the first we’re hearing of this sister.”

Magneto sat on the couch and looked between the twins. He wanted to tell them everything, how he and their mother had escaped certain death in the Nazi concentration camps and had built a life for themselves before he got selfish and everything went wrong. He wanted to tell them all the little stories about their sister, how much their mother and he loved her and what a good big sister she would have been to them. He wanted to say all those things and more, but when he opened his mouth, the words wouldn’t quite come out.

Long ago, he’d felt nothing, now he felt too much.

Closing his mouth, he shook his head. “I don’t know how to say all there is to be said. Her name was Anya, she was only five-years-old. I haven’t been back since I buried her, I thought you might want to come as well.”

Wanda looked at her brother and some indecipherable communication passed between them. Pietro rolled his eyes and said, “Wanda, can we have a word in the kitchen?”

Wanda rolled her own eyes before jerking her head to the other room and the pair of them vanished through the door. Magneto didn’t try to overhear their conversation. Undoubtedly they were discussing if he was trustworthy enough to follow to who knows where. Certainly they were questioning his credibility or if he was lying to them to gain their trust. He knew he deserved such skepticism, he wished he might one day overcome it. Perhaps in the future he might be redeemed.

Pietro and Wanda came back into the sitting room a few minutes later. Wanda was being logical with her brother, saying “-Vision can watch Luna while we’re gone, it’ll be fine. He’s babysat before.”

“I know, I know,” Pietro said, holding up his hand to put a stop her persuasion, “I just hate leaving her, I miss her when I’m gone.” Wanda squeezed her brother’s shoulder encouragingly. Magneto was happy that they’d always had each other, even if he and Magda had never been part of their lives.

Wanda turned to Magneto. “We’d like to go with you.”

Pietro, ever the more surly of the two, added, “But if there’s any funny business, you’ll regret it.”

Magneto sighed. “Please believe me, Pietro, I’ve changed. I’m not the man you knew all those years ago.”

“That remains to be seen,” Pietro muttered.

Wanda, seemingly wanting to forestall any further comments from her brother, asked, “Where are we going?”

“The USSR."

. . .

It had probably been more than two decades since Magneto had used a passport or entered a country legally. He had long since given up thinking of himself as a citizen of any nation, and instead maintained that since he was a Mutant he was unaccountable to human law and practice. Today was no different. Using his powers to created a magnetic sphere around the three of them, he transported himself, Wanda and Pietro into the sky with his abilities. A journey that would normally take many hours could be accomplished in minutes, before long the three of them were touching down outside the Soviet city of Vinnytsia.

Magneto pointed to the city in the distance. “I came here with your mother long ago, I had an idea that I would earn a place at university and get a degree. I had such a desire to learn back then, I suppose that desire has not yet completely abandoned me. I thought I might be able to get back the education I had lost out on as a boy and maybe provide a better living for my family. Alas, it was not to be.”

Pietro looked around them, the mostly open countryside was carved into fields. “I don’t see any graveyards,” he observed.

“I was not able to lay her to rest in a graveyard,” Magneto said quietly. “The Nazis destroyed all the Jewish graveyards during the war, and the Soviets weren’t much better. I didn’t want someone to disturb her resting place. It was perhaps not a proper burial according to the traditions of our people, but it was what I could manage under the circumstances.” Magneto gazed around the horizon before finding the direction he thought he remembered and, motioning the twins to follow him, set off.

“Why haven’t you told us any of this before?” Wanda asked.

“I wanted to, but it is not always easy for me to discuss. When I think about what transpired, it is as if it happened just yesterday.” Magneto glanced down at Wanda. “I can still smell the fire.”

Magneto pressed on while the twins paused to share a look before continuing. Magneto wasn’t entirely sure where he had been on that night so long ago, but he centered himself and let his instincts guide him. That fateful day three decades ago was etched in his mind in sharp detail. Every thought and feeling flowed though him now as strongly as on that day.

The three of them walked through overgrown fallow fields as they wended their way deeper into the countryside. When Magneto saw the forested outcropping ahead he knew they had found it. He pointed to the woods and said, “There is the sepulchre where your sister lies. I can feel the marker I made her from here.”

“It looks peaceful,” Wanda said, gazing at the forest. “I can feel the quiet from here.”

Magneto glanced at Wanda and gave her a small smile.

Entering the shadow of the trees, the afternoon sun shone on them weakly through the boughs. A hush filled the air under the branches. Using his abilities, Magneto was able to feel the presence of the grave marker he’d laid. Treading softly, they came at last to the spot. Magneto knelt down and cleared the pine needles and other debris from the marker. With a flick of his finger the decades of rust and corrosion disappeared and the plate shone as brightly as the day he had laid it.

“Hello, Anya,” he murmured, “I’m sorry, Papa didn’t bring you any flowers.” Lowering himself to the ground, he kissed the steel headstone.

Wanda and Pietro knelt down on either side of him as he sat back up. Pietro ran his finger over the inscriptions on the plate. “What does it say?” he asked.

Magneto swallowed, his emotions beginning to throb in his chest and throat. He maintained careful control of his voice as he recited what was written. First in Hebrew, then in English. He didn’t even need to read it, he couldn’t have forgotten it if he’d tried. After living in Israel, his Hebrew was much better now than it had been then. Still, he stumbled over some of the words, unshed tears threatening to take control of him.

Wanda put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell us about our sister, Father.” It was first time she’d called him that.

Pietro nodded. “Yes, tell us what she was like.”

“She was the most beautiful of children,” Magneto began. “She was the true light of my life. She was every hope and dream I ever had for the future. Bright, curious, intelligent, kind, thoughtful. I don’t even know how to describe her. But you must know how I felt, Pietro, you must feel the same about Luna.”

Pietro gulped and nodded.

Magneto continued. “After your mother and I escaped Auschwitz, we settled in a village in the Carpathian mountains – on the Polish side. We eventually got married and we had a good life. I worked as a builder, I was quite handy and was able to build us a small cottage up there in the mountains. Soon enough your sister was born. She was such a nice, fat baby. I remember that well. I had seen so many starve and to know that she would always have enough to eat was a joy to me. After losing so many people during the war, I thought maybe Magda and I finally had a chance to begin again. We’d build a new family together and have a new life. One no longer stained by death and destruction. It was a dream that seemed possible then. Back in those days I’d never even heard the word Mutant. I thought I was human, like everyone else. If only I had known, what a difference it would have made.”

Wanda began to pick up fallen leaves from the forest floor around them. “Tell us more, Father,” she urged. It warmed Magneto to hear her call him father. It had been too long since he’d heard it.

“When your sister was five I had a notion that I might be able to earn a place at a top university here in the USSR. Such spots are difficult to achieve unless you are very intelligent, but I told myself that I could do it and your mother believed me. I uprooted our lives to come to the city where I might have a chance to get in.” Magneto now recalled the decision with a bitterness that leaked into his voice. If only he’d not been so selfish and delusional.

“The day we arrived, I went to find work. The entire city was still being rebuilt after the Nazis nearly destroyed everything so I knew I could get a job just about anywhere. When I returned to the inn where we were staying, it was on fire. When I went to rescue Anya from the fire, I was beset by secret police. They prevented me from saving her!” Anger flashed in Magneto’s eyes, the fury he felt then was still every bit as strong. “That’s how your sister died. She burned to death and I couldn’t save her. Watching her die, and like that, like I had seen so many others die, I couldn’t take it. Something in me broke loose and my powers killed all those around me save Magda.”

Wanda’s eyes went wide but Pietro merely said, “I understand.”

Magneto looked at his son, of the twins, Pietro was always the harder one to reach. “Your mother did not understand, I’m afraid. When she’d seen what I had done she ran from me and I never did find her again. She said that I was a monster and ran. She was so overcome she didn’t even stay to bury our daughter. I think a part of me has never forgiven her for that, but now I think I can understand it too. She was a good woman, Magda, but her life had left its scars.” Magneto ran his thumb over his sleeve where underneath he bore the Auschwitz prisoner tattoo.

“I didn’t know your mother was pregnant when she left me, and after I couldn’t find her I decided she was better off without me. It seems that all who love me are fated to a terrible end. Wherever she is, if she still lives, she is most certainly better off without me.” Magneto found himself thinking of Magda often, he’d never been able to find any more about what had happened to her but he hoped she was happy. Glancing between Wanda and Pietro he said, “Had I known of you two, believe me, I would have come for you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.” Magneto began to sweep his hands over the grave to clear the leaf and pine litter.

“Our adoptive parents were good to us,” Wanda said in a reassuring tone as she shaped her bundle of leaves into a small bouquet. “We were okay in the end and I can’t imagine my life without them.”

“And I am grateful for that,” Magneto said, giving Wanda another soft smile, “still, I regret all the time I lost with you two, and all the paths I’ve walked since your mother left me. I lost my way for a long time, lost who I was. I’m still not sure I’ve found it, but finding you and your brother makes me feel…” Magneto trailed off as he tried to put these emotions into words for the first time. “It makes me feel human again.”

Wanda leaned in and put an arm around Magneto. The demonstration brought tears to Magneto’s eyes. He ached to once more hug his Anya, to give Magda one last embrace before she left him forever. He wanted to say a proper goodbye to everyone who’d been ripped away from him. His mother and father, his sister, everyone he’d ever loved. Thirty years ago he’d knelt here alone, numb. Now, his children sat beside him and all the feelings he’d not been able to muster then came welling to the surface now. Covering his face with his hands, he began to weep.

Wanda and Pietro didn’t say a thing. Wanda just rested her cheek on his shoulder and rubbed her hand over his back. Pietro, somewhat hesitantly, patted Magneto’s back in what he must have thought was a soothing patter. Magneto struggled to regain his composure, but part of him was relieved to finally give Anya the tears she deserved.

Finally, Wanda spoke, “Father, I want to show you something.”

Magneto took a deep breath and lifted his face from his hands. He was unused to appearing so vulnerable in front of anyone, but he’d wanted the twins here for a reason. They deserved to know this part of their family’s story.

Wanda showed him the bundle of leaves she had and asked, “What was Anya’s favorite color?”

Magneto wiped away his tears and smiled as he recalled. “Yellow, it was her favorite because the sun is yellow and I always called her my little sunshine.”

Wanda smiled softly, her own eyes shining with emotion. “That’s beautiful. She sounds like the loveliest sister.” Wanda then raised her free hand and waved it over the brown leaves. Her red Mutant powers leapt forth and in the blink of an eye the bouquet of leaves transformed into one of yellow roses. “Now we have some flowers to leave for her.”

Magneto smiled, holding back a fresh wave of tears. “What a lovely gift you’ve made for her. I know she would be so proud of you.” Magneto turned to Pietro, “And you as well, Pietro. She would have loved to be your big sister. She would have taken care of the both of you so well.”

Pietro wiped his arm over his eyes. “Wait here,” he said, and with that he jumped up and sped off at top speed. Seconds later he was back, his arms filled with a huge array of wildflowers. In the space of a breath he’d arranged them into a lush wreath to frame the grave marker. “Sorry I never got to know you, big sister, I’m sure you would have been the best.” Together, he and Wanda decorated Anya’s grave the way Magneto wished he could have done all those years ago.

When they finished their task, the pair of them stepped back and looked at the beautifully decorated grave. “Is there anything you want to say, maybe a prayer or a poem?” Wanda asked. “I’m not familiar with the Jewish customs.”

A small pain lanced through Magneto’s heart. Of course they wouldn’t know such things, they were raised in a different culture. They had no reason to know the customs of their ancestors. “There are some prayers one might say, but I don’t really follow those beliefs anymore.”

“Then why don’t we make our own tradition,” said Pietro. “For this family.” Hearing that word from Pietro was like a balm to Magneto’s heart.

Wanda nodded. “Yes, something special from us to her.”

Magneto stood. “Last time I was here, I sang her her favorite lullaby. Will you sing it with me?”

The pair of them nodded. Magneto started, going slowly as he said each Yiddish phrase and waited for them to repeat it. It was a short song, the type you sing as you bounce your baby to sleep or sing with them before bed. Within a few repeats they had both gotten it and were singing it with him. Reaching out, Pietro took Magneto’s hand in one of his own, and Wanda’s in the other. Wanda took Magneto’s other hand, completing the circle as the three of them sang a lullaby for Anya.

When they left the graveside and returned to New York, Wanda invited Magneto inside for coffee and the three of them sat together, somewhat subdued, but between them now emanated a closeness that had not been present before.

A cry from the upstairs alerted Pietro that Luna was done napping and he darted upstairs to fetch her.

“Father,” Wanda asked, “do you have any pictures of Anya?”

Magneto nodded. “One, everything else burned in the fire. This one was saved because I always kept it in my wallet” Reaching into his jacket pocket, Magneto pulled out a photo in a clear plastic case. He gazed at it a moment before giving it to Wanda. “That’s your mother and Anya a few weeks before we left the Carpathians. They were my everything.”

Wanda took the photo as Pietro came back downstairs, Luna cradled in his arms. Wanda showed the photo to her brother. “She’s just a baby,” Pietro remarked, holding Luna a little tighter. “Just a little baby.”

Wanda traced her fingertips over the photo before raising it to her lips and giving it a soft kiss. “Hey sis, even though I never met you, I wanted to say that I love you.”

Warmth bloomed in Magneto’s heart upon hearing that. To know his children loved their sister made the distance between Anya and her siblings seem a little smaller. Made his life feel less like it was carved into pieces and made it seem possible that it was some sort of whole.

Pietro came to stand by Magneto. “Hey, um, Dad, do you want to hold Luna?” Holding her out he placed the baby in Magneto’s arms. Magneto looked down at the face of his granddaughter, her innocent eyes looked up at him as she gurgled and reached out to grab his nose. All three of them laughed and Magneto smiled at his family. He still had many amends to make, but the healing had begun.

[ayyyez]

Headcannon asks (2 of ??):

Domestic vibes w/ Sakura, Shisui, and Neji. What kinds of homey activities would each of them do w/ a partner? Any sort of ways they like to unwind at the end of a day? Like cuddles in bed, making tea and relaxing, *cough* sexy stuffs *cough*. Either canon, modern au, or etc.

Love your works as always, I read them and am like 'wow my friend is so talented wow look at what she did'. K byyeee

a/n: ohhhh is that a Mr Shisui I see? Some good choices I see here. Of course I can do these for youuuuu <3

Tags: domestic vibes, fluff, kissing, suggestive content at end of each nothing to detailed

Characters: Sakura Haruno, Shisui Uchiha, Neji Hyuga

Sakura Haruno

Definitely someone who needs to be convinced to relax sometimes as she has a tendency to overwork herself but also bring her work home. She honestly just doesn't stop! You need to pull her into the zen environment for both your sakes.

That being said she definitely is someone who finds comfort in the simple things with you. A nice cup of tea and a cuddle after a long day are exactly what she needs to unwind. Also can she bitch about people please? She needs to have a good vent. The two of you can vent if you need too as long as you listen to her she'll listen to you 100% you're a team.

It's a bonus if tea has some sort of treats with it. It's partner downtime AND treat time. And if you made them? Her heart MELTS. Even if you just bought them she thinks 'My partner did this for me?' Absolutely touched.

So that was the part you indulged her and she has recharged no it's reversal time. Wants to pay you back and help you unwind. She wants to cook you dinner (doesn't mind cooking it together) but loves to spoil you. Likes company when cooking. The talking continues, helps her to unwind honestly.

Is a taster through the process of cooking and loves to ask for you opinion too. 'Hmm I'm not sure, do you think this needs to be more spicy?' Holds the spoon out to you. Still gets warm over the idea of being domestic like this. Cheeks blushy as you taste her cooking. Appreciates your opinion no matter what it is.

Asking for seconds is the way into her heart honestly. The fact you like her food is just ahhhh. Tell her things you like about her food? Will jump you right there and then. Smooches and hugs. All over you. 'I appreciate you so much.' Just being seen makes her feel loved.

Big on bathing with you to unwind. Loves the intimacy of it and just holding and being held by the one she loves. Washing each other and carting her hands through her lovers hair is the dream. Ultimate relaxation until it's not and leads to other things.

Sometimes the path to unwinding with Sakura leads to the ultimated unwind in the bedroom. Towels forgotten on the floor, robes open, hands exploring and kissing so hard that you feel so hot. Maybe the bath should have waited until later.

Shisui Uchiha

Mr active, can't sit still for too long, go go go needs to be coaxed and sometimes bribed into relaxing, honestly. He's just so used always doing something that his mind is like always racing and going so he's following it for the ride. It takes you for a fun ride too.

That being said he does have his exhausted days and mornings where he likes to just cuddle. Cuddley mornings with Shisui aren't all docile and sweet though. Sometimes they're pinches and tickles and giggles.

It's biting your shoulder affectionately and nibbling your ear to get a chuckle out of you and watch you flail about while he holds you tight. It's laughing until your stomach hurts, the blanket long forgotten and kicked to the end of the bed while the sheet twists around each of your limbs.

It's rolling around the bed until one of you (or both if you cling to each other tight enough) falls out of bed. That's when it's time to call it quits. 'Mmm maybe time to get out of bed.' 'I think we just did.' 'Touché.' He kisses (then nips) your nose.

Unwinding in the evening for Shisui I can see being something like watching you prepare dinner. Watching the repetative motions of chopping and mixing just really helps him relax and unwind. But he can't watch for long he has to join in and help.

Not just help out but make it fun too and be an absolute nusance in the process. Flicking the bits of cooked rice that stick to his hands at you when he is put in charge of moulding the rice balls. Attempts to smear the rice vinegar goo on your cheek but you flinch in time with a gasp just as the tip hits your skin.

'Oh this is war!' You declare and he's gone, running around the kitchen in a circle giggling like a child as you chase him with the mayo based sauce. He relents of course and grabs you by the waist. It stops you but not enough as you smear a good goop over his face.

Instead of wiping it off he just smooshes his face against yours and shakes his head gently. The two of you scrunch your noses and laugh. It's a mess but it's fun. And you can taste the sauce on his lips when he kiss you. It's good.

Dinner is almost forgotten as the two of you kiss and kiss. Making out on the kitchen floor. You push him back onto the conveniently placed rug a few feet away and latch yourself onto his neck. He moans, hands coming to pull your waist down against him. Onto him. Mmm this is good.

He laps the remainder of the sauce from your face, his hands exploring up your shirt, fingers splayed over the skin of your back. You push his own shirt up. Kissing down his chest. Down, down further until mm and there's a delicious moan pulled from him as his hands find your hair.

That's when the pot boils over and your remember dinner. Shit. Gotta get up and turn the stove off before you finish.

Neji Hyuga

Mans has spent his whole life chasing that zen but there's always something in the way. There's always something giving him the BIG STRESS lmao. He needs to unwind and you really gotta be the one to help him out before he snaps.

Big on the tea and definitely has his own routine of coming home and drinking a cup just to detox the day. Likes to just have a bit of quiet at first. Has gotten into the habit of making one for you if you're home too, a sweet invitation for you to join him in his bubble. He wants you in his world.

After that he doesn't mind talking. Wants to know about your day, doesn't mind sharing his. Little bits of small talk that lead to the deep intimate talk. Just existing together in a way he never thought he would with another person is intimate for him and it makes him feel so sappy.

Kind of leads him to the physical side of things. Wants the touches and the cuddles. Kind of just falls against you in his PleaseHoldMeSoIKnowThisIsReal Neji way. And you do. It's cuddle time. Sometimes that's all it is. Just cuddles and gentle affirmations.

Other times it's a little more. It leads to kissing. Soft at first. Just gentle reminders that the two of you love each other and aren't going anywhere. But when they deepen. There's a fierceness in them a spark ignites and suddenly he's back against the couch and you're on top of him.

It's almost like your down right ready to devour him. You're kissing his jaw, his neck and he is moaning your name. His hands are in your hair. You both want more. Need more. Crave more.

It leads to more sometimes. Other times it's just a quick burst of passion and nothing more.

Afterwards the two of you continue the night together. A little closer than before. Cooking dinner with extra touches than necessary. Stealing extra kisses between prep steps. Grazing touches as you pass the utensils at the table.

There's no way you can shower alone after that. Everything in an evening like this remains close and together. Right up until the moment the two of you fall asleep in bed, limbs wrapped around each other. Completely content and taken by each others presence.

[ladyvillainous]

Ardeth Bay NSFW Alphabet

Working on a little something new just need to do a little editing but while you're waiting have some more head canons on my latest character obsession

A Aftercare

(What they’re like after sex)

He likes to hold you close as you both recover continuing to kiss you softly as he rubs his hands over your skin just wanting to

B Body part

(Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your skin because it’s so soft he can’t help but want to be touching you constantly. You make sure to apply your jasmine scented body oil daily to keep it that way knowing how much he loves to touch you and the smell of the oil. If you really want to drive him nuts, you rub a small amount through your hair, it’s guaranteed to have him wrapped around you in no time.

C Cum

(Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He would never lay a hand on you until you were married and as such getting you pregnant wouldn’t be an issue. In fact, he loves to see your rounded belly as you grow his child, he thinks your even more irresistible this way. It’s because of this that he always likes to come inside you and nowhere else.

D Dirty Talk

(Do they like to talk dirty on the job? Do they like you to talk dirty to them? What sort of things do they say?)

He’s more likely to praise and worship you with words of love and encouragement than with filthy things thought he can get a bit borderline when you’re going down on him as he can get carried away.

E Experience

(How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He had a few dalliances when he was younger but once he took his oath, he realised the life of Medjai was not well suited a long-term relationship and he had no interest in brothels or ruining a woman’s reputation for nothing. He’s no virgin but hasn’t anywhere near the experience some of the other men do, whatever he may lack he more than makes up for with passionate intensity.

F Favourite Position

(This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He loves any position that allows him to gaze into your eyes, though is partial to having you sat on his lap because he can hold you so much closer while still maintaining control.

When he wants to switch it up, he likes to get you on all fours and then pull you up flush against his chest, it takes a little twisting to get into position, but he can still kiss you breathless and the angle of his thrusts turn you to jelly in his arms.

G Goofy

(Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He has a surprisingly wicked sense of humour, but this tends to show itself in sly comments here and there and during sex is often not the moment for this. It doesn’t stop him grinning wickedly at you when he teases you. Generally, he’s so intense it doesn’t occur to either of you to find anything funny.

H Hair

(How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s quite a hairy man thought not excessively just enough to look stereotypically manly without veering into werewolf territory. When he’s out in the desert he doesn’t worry about grooming down there at all even lets his beard grow out somewhat. But when he returns home or if you visit him at one of the outposts, he will take the time to clear up the jungle and shave.

I Intimacy

(How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Ardeth is a very passionate, intense, loyal man which often translates to soft sensual touches that make your heart overflow for him.

J Jack Off

(Masturbation head canon)

Sometimes the only thing getting him through the long, lonely nights in the desert is thoughts of you. However, he doesn’t always have the privacy to be able to do anything more than think about you. This can mean he returns from weeks or months away and pretty much carries you straight to bed, he needs you repeatedly after that much time apart with no relief.

K Kink

(One or more of their kinks)

It took some time to convince him, but he did finally indulge you and tie you to your bed. He was extremely uncomfortable at first as he was worried about hurting you, but he unexpectedly loved it. He doesn’t want to indulge all the time because his fear returns full force in between but on occasion he will whip out the rope using the excuse that he wants to try a new knot he’s learnt, despite the fact that you’re more than willing excuse or no excuse.

L Location

(Favourite places to do the do)

He wants privacy for you both so at home in your own bed is his reference. He makes an exception for his chambers at the mountain outpost, but with only a curtain separating you both from the rest of the outpost you do have to be quieter than normal.  He has also been known to draw you into the armoury after training but that’s only because he hasn’t the patience to wait to get you home.

M Motivation

(What turns them on, gets them going)

Showing a little skin is a foolproof way to get his attention. Wearing your caftan with the long thigh high split around the house when you’re just doing everyday household chores, get you tossed over his shoulder and escorted upstairs in double time.

N NO

(Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will not hurt you period end of sentence no will he give up control for the same reason. He got carried away the first time you slept together, which was also your first time ever, when you bled slightly after he thought he’d hurt you and was horrified. He fled to the spare room and wouldn’t come near you for quite some time, until you figured out what had upset him and were able to assure him you weren’t hurt. It still plays on his mind though even to this day.  

O Oral

(Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Both, he has been known to pull multiple orgasms from you in one session to the point you’re begging him to stop. He loves it when you go down on him as it allows him to give up some control without any risk of hurting you, because of this he would never hold your head while you pleasure him let alone push down for fear you would gag.

P Pace

(Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow, sensual and powerful is his go to, occasionally he will get a little rougher with you, but his pace is always carefully controlled and measured for maximum pleasure while making it last longer for the both of you.

Q Quickie

(Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

A quickie with Ardeth isn’t exactly a quick as he no interesting in just ploughing you into a wall and moving on. He wants to take his time with you ensure you feel loved and safe. The closest he gets to quick are the times in the armouring after training but even those sessions run long to the point that you’re shocked you haven’t been caught yet. What neither of you know is that the armoury guards have caught on and will always guard the door until your done and then discretely make themselves scarce, so you never even know they were there. Ardeth suspects because of the knowing smiles they shoot him later the same day, but he chooses to ignore it.

R Risk

(Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s happily experiment with any position or technique you want to try but he’d never put your safety at risk. Neither would he risk exposing you in any way… with the notable exception of the armoury.

S Stamina

(How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

The man is built for endurance he could fight Anubis stay up all night trekking through the jungle, fight Anubis warriors in the morning, spend 4 -5 hours on horseback see to his men and still rock your world so thoroughly you’re seeing stars. I know that’s an incredibly specific example, but it’s happened at least once.

T Toy

(Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

The 1920/30’s were not known for a plethora of sex toy options. You have both heard about a device called a vibrator but have never tried one. Ardeth doesn’t believe any electric device could be any better than what you already experience together, and you completely agree being more than satisfied with your sex life.

U Unfair

(How much they like to tease)

Usually, he’ll deliver orgasm after mind blowing orgasm no waiting, but on occasion he can been downright evil. This often coincides with the time the ropes come out of the box under the bed.

V Volume

(How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not excessively loud he’d rather keep your private life private and would hate for anyone to overhear you both. However, at home behind locked doors he feels freer to up the volume.

Generally, it’s whispered terms of endearment or general grunts of effort with the odd growl, but he does get borderline filthy when you go down on him

W Wild Card

(Get a random head canon for the character of your choice)

Nothing gets him worked up more than watching you school the young Medjai in weapons. He loves watching them underestimate you and then being eviscerated by your skills. This isn’t a secret to you but the fact that after the first session of every new group he corners you in the armoury for a quick intense session that leaves your legs shaking is only something the 2 of you know.

X X-Ray

(Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture, or words)

Canonically Ardeth is nearly 6ft 2in and solidly built so I think he’d be a reasonable size just borderline on how easily you can get him in your mouth but a little girthier than the norm.

Y Yearning

(How high is their sex drive?)

Varies depending on his schedule and how much access he has to you. Out in the desert it can wither away to almost nothing but back home he will be on you every second he can spare from his duties.

Z ZZZ

(… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Usually, your sessions are so intense that you both fall asleep very quickly but always with your arms wrapped round one another.

[dvarapala]

🔥 OCs

welcome to my tessa talk, @shchvnts

i love oc's but it is damn hard to get them off the ground sometimes. even more so, i feel, when your fc is a person of color (all of my fc's are asian, for context) and that is why i go extra hard for original characters of color because i feel like they tend to get overlooked a little bit.

i think part of it is also because there are more resources for white actors than there are for people of color. of course nowadays there's more than there was in 2012 but still, it's probably easier to find resources for f/lorence p/ugh than for k/im a/dis.

i wonder about why it's so hard to get oc's off the ground sometimes, aside from the aforementioned things above. is it because people have certain expectations deep down inside that they haven't really challenged and maybe said expectations bleed over into the characters they write? "oh, your muse is asian so they'll only be soft and sweet and gentle and demure and nothing else," because that's often how we're portrayed in the west and it's easier to project that image onto others. we're either mathematical nerds or geniuses or soft, sweet people in need of rescue from our respective cultures.

(also for context: a white muse, written by a presumably white mun, once unloaded on one of my characters with, i feel, the unspoken expectation that my character would just give that muse advice and make that muse feel better in character. she didn't, she got angry, cussed and cried.)

that's also why i wrote udyati the way i did: she's got dyscalculia so she's not a mathematical genius; she was never that good at school stuff and sure, she may be a sweetheart but she can very much hold her own in combat.

and maybe other people are like: "that's got nothing to do with it; your fc is not why your oc gets overlooked - if you feel like your oc gets overlooked, you should be better at putting your oc out there."

i get that, i do, believe me, but i also do think it's a factor. at least, subconsciously.

part of it, i think, is also learning how to grow thicker skin. because not everyone will like your oc and not everyone will follow back and not everyone will give you the respect you give them.

sometimes you just have to cut your losses and move on.

i've been here for more than twelve years now and i've arrived at the point where i rb what i like, when i like because it's about having fun, regardless whether someone follows me back or not. we're out here playing virtual barbies, after all. so at the end of the day, it's not that deep. but people do forget sometimes, i feel, that there is another person behind the screen who put in a lot of time and effort to craft an original character from the ground up, a person who didn't have canon - whether it's books or a tv show or a movie - to fall back on.

honestly, i'm so happy to have found a circle of great friends that i write and vibe with across the board, but i also know how hard it is not to get discouraged when you reblog memes and nothing gets sent in, or when you write starters and they go unanswered so that's why i try to at least send in a headcanon question whenever i can / whenever inspiration strikes because i don't want anyone to feel left out.

but i can't be the first one to reach out, and send asks and write starters all the time. sometimes you need to be the first. and i know that's scary. i know a lot of people have anxiety, but sometimes it is up to you to step out of your comfort zone and make the first step. you can't expect others to make the first step all the time. it doesn't work like that; this is a two way street and a collaborative hobby, after all.

anyway, all that aside, at this point, i prefer writing oc's and minor characters that may as well be oc's because some of the best dynamics i've been fortunate enough to write out with friends came from those matchups (jedibeth; khiren; pollou/polloucil; harry x udyati) and because writing out those dynamics have been so healing to me.

i've grown up barely seeing myself represented on screen or in the pages of a book. i've never seen anyone that looks like me be a main character or a proper love interest, so it's nice that i can do that now - even if it's years down the line.

also, if you write an oc: i love you and send them over to me so i can ask headcanon questions (which, yes, is my love language).

[shmothman]

J K L NSFW PLZ THX FWEN

I still need to watch Trigun to understand your husband but in the meantime I wanna help you continue to be insane and indulgent 🩵

Ava you’re LITERALLY my hero thank u for enabling me. Also watch Trigun.

SFW/NSFW Alphabet Prompts

(Vash/Reader)

NSFW below the cut. 18+ only.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Whatever the level of experience you see him as having, the vast majority of Vash’s sexual escapades over the past century-plus years have been solo. Most of the time, Vash is honestly too depressed to jack off much—especially during the events of canon—but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do it; it’s a physical need for him, same as any other (and, unfortunately, he’s prone to self-denial of all of his physical and emotional needs when he’s really down). Still, he sees people he thinks are attractive, and sometimes, he allows himself to want. Carefully, doing his best not to get too hung up on emotion—he knows he can’t have the love that he so badly yearns for—he thinks of them that night, lets himself imagine the hands of the kind bartender, or the smile of the stable hand, dips his fingers between his legs and jolts—it’s been a while, and he’s so sensitive. Even when he tries to draw it out, he can’t last long, and there are usually tears pricking at his eyes by the time that he comes, sticky and tired and, if he’s being honest, sad.

When he meets you though, everything changes. Not only does his sex drive spike wildly (which I’ll save for D), but his fantasies are in overdrive, like he’s making up for over a century of lost time. He just can’t find relief, you wind him up like a coiled spring with the most innocent brush of your hand against his, and he replays it a thousand times that night in his room, muffling himself with a pillow as he strokes himself—slow at first, but losing composure quickly. What he could once emotionally distance himself from he finds himself far too enmeshed in now: he can’t touch himself without imagining your voice saying I love you; saying good boy, and come for me. He imagines your hands, your mouth; imagines himself inside you and it’s too much, always too much—your name on his lips as he falls apart. Vash wants more than he’s ever wanted, and he’s convinced that he can’t allow himself to have it. So this—his fantasies, the things he does as soon as he’s alone—is all he’s going to get.

Until you prove otherwise, of course.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

HO BOY YES. What kinks DOESN’T he have.

Vash’s number one kink is True Love, your pleasure being enough to get him surprisingly close, devoting everything he has to making sure you’re never left wanting. However he can please you, he will; whatever you ask for, he’ll provide. He’s singleminded in his purpose: he simply wants to learn your body as well as he knows his own—perhaps even better—just so he can wring every possible ounce of pleasure from you, every time. He wants to hold your hands as he thrusts into you, wants to mold himself to your body and be one with you in every possible way. He loves you, and that’s the thing that riles him up most of all.

This kink of his is, of course, followed very closely by praise of any kind. Please call him your good boy, tell him how pretty he is, he’s dying; tell him he’s doing so well for you, whether he’s giving or taking, and he’ll combust. And if you praise him for his kindness? His conviction? If you call him amazing and incredible and wonderful? It’s the sweetest validation he can receive—you’re his everything: the kindest, most wonderful person he’s ever met, so if you think he’s good, then there must be a truth to it, right? Puppyplay stems from this, too: he wants to obey you, be good for you, so that you’ll say it to him—the collar’s just a bonus to remind himself that he’s yours.

He also really likes being tied up and teased, edged and denied—well, likes may not be the right word; it’s sweet torture, to have you bring him so close and not let him have it, again and again until he’s sobbing and begging and pleading, binding him and not even letting him touch you. But the buildup is too good, the catharsis in it, the way you so gently wipe his tears and tell him just a little longer, you’ll let him have what he wants soon. He’d let you keep him on that precipice forever, if you wanted to; let you tease him until he can’t think of anything but how much he needs to come, until he can’t think of anything at all. He loves the edge just as much as he loves the release, and he loves the glint of mischief in your eyes most of all; the predatory promise of your smile. Overstimulation goes hand and hand with it all, the dangerous pleasure of I’ll let you come, but then you’re going to keep coming for me until you can’t anymore. It makes him sob and writhe and gasp for air, but oh, it’s such a wonderful sort of too much. By the end of it, he’ll be begging you to stop—though of course he knows he just has to say one little word and you’ll stop immediately.

He isn’t human, and just for fun, I give him a better sense of smell than most: your scent is intoxicating to him, and he’ll breathe you in (discreetly) at every chance he gets. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: vash the stampede sniffs panties. He also likes goofy roleplay: pretending you’ve captured him, or he’s captured you, or you’re meeting for the first time at a seedy bar—though he can’t keep himself from voicing how much he loves you, so staying in character becomes difficult the second that pleasure is involved. He tends toward voyeurism, too—he likes to watch you, especially when you call his name and talk to him, tease him for enjoying the view (and there’s a denial in this, too: he wants so badly to touch you, to be the one brining you all that pleasure). Really, he’s into whatever you’re into, however you want him to touch you: you want to be blindfolded? Tied up? Edged? Tickled? Yes, absolutely, he’s already hard. And, legally, I can’t ignore his canon (in blr) foot fetish. He’ll try to be sly about it but… the man wants to touch ‘em. Sue him. Finally, although it may be controversial, and it’s not my thing so I’m not gonna be the one to explore this further… I think he’d be kinda into cucking.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Call him a bit vanilla, but he prefers your bed. Especially if you live together, have a home to return to that’s yours—he will carry you there so proudly and happily every single night, and there’s truly no place he’d rather be. Until then, though, your room at the inn, or wherever you’re staying, is perfect for him—it’s just the two of you, and he likes being able to let go and be noisy, to lay you down and really look at you and take things slow.

This isn’t to say he won’t fuck you wherever you want him to, though—couch, floor, against the wall, bent over the table, outside under the stars in your sleeping bag… even in a closet, if need be. If you get him riled up enough, he’ll take you just about anywhere (though he isn’t much for public or semi-public sex, and he’d much prefer to drag you somewhere more private).

[clairesvalentine]

michael de santa sfw alphabet? literally been my boyfriend for 10 years i luv him 🙏🏻

sfw headcanons — michael de santa

note: hello hello hello!! here are some head canons for my favorite grumpy old guy ❤️‍🩹 i hope you enjoy it! sorry for taking so long!! school just started and i was working all summer! i have been hard at work with everyone's imagines ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ ♡‧₊˚

warning(s): just some fluff. enjoy!!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

michael shows affection in his own way—small, thoughtful gestures like bringing home something he knows you’ll like, or spending quality time watching movies together. he’s not overly romantic, but he still cares about you deeply.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

micheal would be the type of best friend who gives tough love but always has your back. you guys met through franklin. you had been friends with franklin for a while and you were struggling. he offered you a chance to earn easy money. you met during a heist meeting and you guys never turned back.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

michel loves to cuddle but won’t admit it. he likes to hold you close on the couch during a movie or when winding down after a long day. his cuddles are comforting and make you feel safe. though, he will never really be the one to initiate them.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

michael’s already experienced domestic life and is both comfortable and slightly jaded by it. he’s not great at cooking or cleaning, since he has a maid, but he tries when he’s in the mood or when he feels like he needs to make up for something.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

michael would be heartbroken but would try to keep it together. he might come across as cold and indifferent, even though he’s deeply affected.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

he’s got mixed feelings about marriage given his past marriage but he does value that kind of commitment. he’d likely take his time before rushing into marriage, wanting to make sure it’s the right choice. he doesn’t want a repeat of what happened.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

micheal can be surprisingly gentle when he wants to be. he knows when to tone things down emotionally, especially when he knows that you need it. physically, he’s careful and tender in intimate moments.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

he enjoys hugs, particularly when they’re a surprise. his hugs are strong and enveloping, giving you a sense of warmth and protection.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

micheal wouldn’t rush into saying "i love you," but once he does, it’s genuine. he’s careful with his words because they hold a lot of weight to him. he wants to be sure before he says anything.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

michael gets jealous pretty easily, especially if he feels like someone’s intruding on something important to him. he’d definitely confront the person if things got too bad.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses are deep and meaningful. his favorite places to kiss you is on the lips and forehead, feeling a sense of connection. he enjoys being kissed on his cheek or neck.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

having raised kids himself, micheal is pretty experienced but worn down when it comes to parenting. he’s protective and tries to give good advice but can be frustrated easily… as seen with jimmy.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

mornings with michael are slow and relaxed. he likes to sip coffee, read the paper, or just enjoy some quiet time by the pool before starting the day. he’s not much of a morning person, but he enjoys the peace.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

nights with michael are spent unwinding, usually with a movie or a glass of wine. he loves a good movie to end the day with. he likes to relax after the chaos of the day and just enjoy the quiet with you by his side.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

micheal tends to keep things to himself at first, revealing his thoughts and past over time. he isn’t the type of her person to outwardly share how he’s feeling, as you’d have to pry to get into his head.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

he has a notoriously short fuse, especially when things don’t go according to plan. However, he has you to keep him in check and well— accountable for his actions.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

michael well… remembers the basics. he might miss some details but he’s thoughtful about what really matters to you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

his favorite moments are the quiet, peaceful ones you two share together. no chaos or drama. just a perfect night in, laughing together or talking late into the night.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

michael is very protective. he’d go to great lengths to keep you safe. he appreciates knowing you’ve got his back too, especially when he’s dealing with personal struggles.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

micheal puts in a good amount of effort, though he sometimes feels out of practice. he’d surprise you with thoughtful gestures, making special days memorable.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

he can be impulsive and sometimes lets his temper get the best of him. he might also retreat into himself or resort to unhealthy coping mechanisms when things get tough.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

michael cares about his appearance, but in a subtle way. he wants to look good, but he’s not obsessed with it. he likes to be presentable, especially when going out.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

absolutely!! michael has had a lot of ups and downs in his life, and having someone stable and supportive like you would make him feel grounded. without you, he’d feel lost.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

micheal has a secret love for old classic films and will spend hours watching them, often quoting lines from his favorites when the mood strikes. he leaves you so confused with these quotes, like… wtf are you talking about?? but it’s endearing to say the least.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

he hates dishonesty and people who act entitled. in a partner, he wouldn’t tolerate manipulation or someone who plays games with his emotions.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

michael tends to fall asleep with the TV on. he’s a light sleeper and often wakes up in the middle of the night, but finds comfort in having you nearby, sometimes reaching out to make sure you’re still there 🥺🤍

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Floyd, Jade And Azul's Backstory - Monster AU

Monster: simply Sea Monsters, I do not have the patience to describe them perfectly, and I do not have the artistic ability to Create them sdlkjhdslfj To be perfectly honest this could just be read as canon as well sdfksdjfhljdf Word Count: ~ 0.58 K Relationships Mentioned: Just the little Guys being Dudes TW: Tweels bully baby Azul, Azul looses his cool, implied ripping Azul apart, the Tweels find violence funny, etc. -----------------------------------------------------------------

"Ehheeee he's squishy!! I could squeeze him til his eyes POP out!" Floyd emphasized his point by giving Azul another, harder squeeze around his midsection, causing Azul to protest, only for Jade to hold his mouth open and examine it. "Do you eat with this mouth or do you have a beak? Floyd turn him upside down!" "WHAT?? N-no, you guys, leave me alone, you're gonna make me ink again!" Azul's protests fell on deaf ears as Floyd, giggling, spun him upside down, readjusting his long barbed tail to wrap around four of Azul's tentacles. Jade following suite on the other side, giggling in delight at Azul's distress. "You're so tiny and squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeshy!!!! Except for this part! We should take it out so you're allll squishy!!" Floyd's clawed finger tapped at his beak, making Azul cry out at the idea. "Leave me alone! You know if I w-wanted I could ma-" "If you W-waNtEd you'd what?" Floyd mocked him as Jade peered curiously down at the other boys beak, before tapping it gently, not unlike his brother. "We'll let you go if you let us watch you eat-" Floyd shot Jade a look that immediately read as that's boooooring, but Jade just rolled his eyes in response "Otherwise Floyd's gonna pry it open anyways." He gave his brother a small smile, and Floyd gave him his happy wiggles in response and started knocking on his beak. Azul had had enough of the ridicule and threats, expanding himself as a storm brewed over the water. 'I'M DONE PLAYING THIS GAME!" He grew multiple times his size, sniffling a bit, before grabbing each of the tweels around their waists, not unlike they had done to him. He had a huge pout on his face, only further emphasized by his chubby cheeks as he started moving the Tweels like dolls, making sure not to prick himself on their spines. He bounced Floyd around mockingly "I have no brains and disappoint my family." Then he bounced Jade in response, "I'm scary and will never have any real friends because I'm a freak!" A tense, shocked silence fell across the three of them, before the Tweels burst into laughter. "We don't need anyone else! We got each other!" "You know, you hold your own better than we expected. Maybe if we do have a friend, it could be you?" Jade gave Azul what was supposed to be a shy smile. It was enough to work on him. Azul relaxed, the storm above dissipating as he came back down into his regular size, letting the twins go and fidgeting with his hands, looking down at them. "You'd wanna be friends after all that?" Floyd squealed with joy, coming behind Azul and poking his cheek. "That was so cool!! You gotta do it again! We can't see that again if we're not friends!!" Jade floated a bit in front of him, nodding slightly. "Friends look out for each other. Do we have a deal?" He held his clawed hand out to Azul expectantly. Azul gently shoved Floyd away from him, hesitantly reaching out to shake Jade's hand. Jade moved forward and took Azul's hand in his, before pulling him closer. "If you break our deal, the option to rip out your beak is very much a viable option still. We know what you can do. You don't know about us." Jade laughed softly before letting Azul go. "Come on, let's find some food. You can even have first dibs." ----------------------------------------------------------- A/N: I had to combine them bc I.....I had no original ideas for them, and don't really want any. I can see them in my head but I don't have the energy for a full blown fic, and this puts me back on schedule as I head into Midterm season

if you made it here, you might want to check out my other Twstober works here, or if you're looking for some fluff after that fic, you can check out my main masterlist here. Ask box is open if you have any questions! Thanks for reading!