#I want to scream and bite people but if I had that energy I wouldn't be sick in the first place

[dragkingandreweldritch]

>have dysautonomia

>cardiologist tells me I need to get autonomic testing so we can figure out the source

>google local doctors that take my insurance

>call what looks like the best choice at a good hospital not too far from where I live

>get told doctor's assistant will call me back to set up an appointment

>don't hear back for a week

>call back to ask about the appointment, told the assistant will definitely get back to me in the next few days

>he doesn't

>catch covid, too exhausted to make phonecalls for a month

>never hear back from them

>say 'fuck this' and look up another doctor

>easily make the appointment

>it's over a month out bc specialists are just like that

>two weeks before the appointment receive a call from the office

>they need to reschedule

>next available appointment is another month out

>ask them to double check if there's anything earlier

>there's a slot at ass o'clock in the morning in three weeks

>I'll take it

>get a call today saying they need to reschedule AGAIN

>once again say 'fuck this' and look for another doctor while I wait to hear back from them

>only one other place anywhere near me that takes my insurance

>their testing machine is out of service

>the company picked it up four months ago and they still haven't heard back

>they can put me on the waiting list tho

>fuck it. why not

>back to waiting for the previous office to reschedule me

>I'm so fucking tired

[moonyasnow]

Seeing Green.

How they react to an S/O who tries to hold back bad jealousy issues

CHARACTERS : Leona, Azul, Kalim

CONTENT : Intense jealousy from Reader, Reader has thoughts of murder (Leona's part), unhealthy behaviors (Leona's part), Reader is implied to be insecure, who am I kidding almost all of them are insecure

Jealousy was an ugly thing, you knew…and even more so within you. It was ugly, and burning, and scared, and desperate, and bloodlust. It teemed within you, coursing through your veins as surely as your blood, seeming to radiate from your painfully throbbing heart and spread like miasma constricting your lungs and out through your nose in heavy, laborious breaths.

Sometimes you were afraid he could smell it on you...

Leona

Leona Kingscholar, the overlooked, never-desired, second prince of the Sunset Savannah was no stranger to jealousy…no, envy was more like it, what he yearned for seemingly always just out of reach no matter how far he extended his hand. But Jealousy and Envy— desire to keep near what is yours, and desire for what someone else's possesses— are two sides to the same coin.

So then, when he saw the signs of jealousy, he instantly recognized it for what it was.

After a summons from his brother and sister-in-law back to the Sunset Savannah for some important international relations event he 'simply couldn't miss!' he dragged you with him as his living emotional support pillow. But as always happened at those events, something he'd grown used to and been expecting, he had 'suitors' crawling all over him.

Second Prince with a bane of a Signature Spell and a bad reputation or no, he was still royalty, and quite handsome. But even if the latter wasn't the case, nothing will ever stop social climbers. He knew none of them could care less about him as a person, only his title, and he had no interest in any of them.

Even though you knew this, the pit of dread in your stomach still made itself known. You didn't know any of the people who came up to the two of you— had no idea if, if given the opportunity, they might actually have any chance of stealing him away from you. But that didn't seem to matter. Because as soon as one of them came up and began to flirt with him, in the open, right next to you, his partner… Your mind roiled and screamed and wanted them dead. You wanted their head on a platter, wanted to see them shoved out a 10-story window, dig your nails into the sides of their face and force them to look at you and tremble while you asked them what they were doing, acting so familiar with your lover as though you weren't even there.

He noticed the shift in energy beside him as quick as it appeared, glancing to the corner of his eye to see you gritting your teeth, taking long, steady breaths and trying with all your might to hide the look of disgust, rage and anguish on your face. He understood instantly, and didn't even try to stop his grin.

To think his little Herbivore, usually so nice and sweet and docile, had such an ugly side to them. One that was just for him. That he alone had the sway to turn an unsure and timid thing like yourself into such a monster. But he couldn't say it was a sight he hated. He was the only this possessiveness of yours was directed toward. He, and no one else, was that special to you. He, and no one else, was desired by you.

He would exploit it. It was for him after all, wasn't it? So that feeling of yours was his to do with as he pleased. He wouldn't go out of his way, of course, who do you take him for? Instead going out of his way not to go out of his way: letting the touch of an overeager suitor linger on his shoulders instead of shrugging them off, returning their gaze for a second too long, pretending he didn't notice you biting your lip harder in distress. The way you clung to him so tightly after you retired to his room for the night, curling your body so closely around him, as though scared he'd disappear if you let go, was too sweet not to. You held him like he was precious. Priceless. More important than anything. It was a feeling he couldn't help but chase after the first time he felt it because of you.

It made him feel so powerful. Satiated something inside him with roots so deep he could never pull it out. But for a moment, this jealousy of yours made him forget it. You recognized his greatness, after all: enough to be scared of him being taken away from you…

…You recognized him.

But…when you woke him up in the middle of the night, crying quietly into his chest, he knew why. He took it too far.

Would he want to be more straightforward with you if he could? Possibly. Was it cruel? Most definitely. But 'honest' and 'nice' were two words that had never been used to describe him. He wasn't capable of that, so why even try? Besides, you knew what you signed up for, being with him.

…At least, he hoped so.

Azul

A youth spent overlooked, insulted, bullied and outcast from the peers one is supposed to be connecting with, for Azul Ashengrotto, resulted in a very low sense of self worth. And with it, a deeply engrained fear that he wasn't good enough to truly keep the things he cherished. At least, not if he acted like himself. While for him, that most often manifested in a fear of you rejecting him; seeing a hint of weakness in him and deciding to 'cut your losses' and run, he was also not a stranger to jealousy.

You wanted to cling to him, be closer to him, hold him in a vice grip and never let go. But you were afraid to… Scared that your hold might be suffocating to him. For while you loved the intelligent, dedicated and hard-working side of him, it was also the one you feared might discard you, write you off a distraction, if he knew of your desperation for him. So then…when you saw Jade and Floyd so seemingly comfortable and easily able to take his attention even from his work, alarm bells rung in your head. You tried to soothe yourself with the fact that it was just because they were childhood friends, but that seemed to have the opposite effect. They were closer to him than you. You feared you would never be that close to him. That if it came to it, he would choose them over you in a heartbeat. It seemed to crush you from the inside out.

But you hid it. Experience had taught you that being clingy and jealous, much less showing others those feelings, never lead to anything good. You swallowed it and put it in a bottle and hoped he would never notice. Hoped you could wait until you were alone to spill your tears.

One day when you came to his office to spend time with him, your time together was briefly interrupted by Jade, coming to deliver papers of some kind. You expected him to leave quickly afterwards, watching and waiting for him to make his exit. But he met your eyes briefly, then began to make small talk with Azul. With the two focused on each other, you, at his side, felt like a fly on the wall. A ghost. A third wheel, even in the presence of your lover. Your jealousy reared its ugly head with a passion. The pressure within you only kept building until Jade had finally left.

It was then that he saw you, almost trembling, trying and failing to hide the tears welling up in your eyes and shifting infinitesimally closer to him, hands twitching to close the distance, breathing like your lungs were filled with stones, yet biting your lip hard in a by-now futile attempt to hide it. At first, he began to panic, mind spinning with thoughts of what he could have done to upset you so. But then it hit him— this only started after your time together was interrupted.

When he realized that, he realized the probable cause for your distress.

You feared losing his attention, losing his love, losing him, didn't you? You were scared someone else would come along and make him forget about you. He understood. Seven, he hated how much he understood… So much that it felt uncomfortable, seeing his own inner ugliness reflected back at him.

Having gathered evidence, he decided to confront you with it in order to ask you about the issue, like a detective would a crime-suspect. He wanted to believe it was because he knew you would lie if asked without proof. But it was just what he knew; his methods of dealing with any and all confrontation having come from a history of needing to appear always calm, detached and in-control.

When he'd confirmed his suspicions and learned of your fear, he feared he might start crying. Wether from sadness that his lover could understand that fear, or from relief at not being the only one.

You expected him to be disgusted with the extent of your jealousy, your urge to be possessive and forbid him to look at anyone but you. But next thing you knew, he, who so often shied away from even your touch, had you wrapped gently in his arms.

From then on he let you act a bit more possessive of him. He knew what would soothe his own anxiety, and hoped that the same might soothe yours. He was still plagued with the dual fear that clinging too much might suffocate you, and that loosening his hold too much might see you slip from his grasp, so he couldn't bring himself to do it. Still, he let you cling to his arm. It made him flush with both smug pride and embarrassment at the same time, having you coiled around his arm in front of others, soothing his own insecurity as much as the twins' teasing tickled his defensive side.

But he still let you.

If he could still find you lovely even with that 'ugly' side to you, he reasoned…then perhaps…just hypothetically…you could see the same in him.

One day, maybe he would show you…

Kalim

Kalim Al-Asim, heir to the richest merchant family in the Scalding Sands, one of the richest families in the world, purely by his parents' design, has never known jealousy. All that he wished for, he got. Knowing the precarious position he was in, that an attempt could be made on his life at any moment, he never took all that he had for granted. He was grateful for it, even though his cheer might not make it readily apparent. Yet as he had never truly lost anything he deeply cherished, he wouldn't be familiar with the feelings that weighed you down.

Though that didn't mean he wouldn't notice if you weren't feeling well. He might not be able to accurately place the reasons behind it, but through experience gained from years and years of playing host at various parties— or perhaps just an older brother's instinct— he always noticed when someone was feeling low.

Kalim had always been a social butterfly, and you knew this well— better than almost anyone, in fact, partly due to that being how you met in the first place. He was mesmerizing, so in his element entertaining people at parties, or just in regular conversation, and seeing him shining so brightly and enjoying each second of life with such a passion only made you fall even deeper for him.

But unlike him, sharing didn't come as naturally to you. No matter how hard you tried to reason with yourself, say that him putting an arm around another's shoulder was only a friendly gesture, that you knew Kalim was just a naturally touchy person and it didn't mean he didn't still consider you his favorite, nothing would soothe the tempest that raged within you. Each of his smiles that you so adored, directed at someone that wasn't you, felt like poison stabbed into your gut. Every time he laughed at a comment or joke made by someone else, the world seemed to drain of color, bit by bit. No matter how much you loved— adored— him, those feelings kept coming back every second he wasn't sitting next to you, holding you, leaning on your shoulder and directing all his focus to you.

It felt inevitable, in your mind, that it would end with you being forgotten in favor of someone else. Someone funnier, someone smarter, someone happier, someone more confident, someone less anxious…someone better.

When you waded too deep into the turbulent waters and risked losing yourself to the whirlwind of your anxious, paranoid thoughts is when he would always find his way back to you again. He could always tell, like some intuitive feeling, that something was bothering you. He might not know why, since you didn't often tell him, but he didn't like seeing you like that: looking so sad and lost. Spending time worrying about what the cause could be would only be taking time away from what was actually important: making you feel better. So he did what he did best.

He came up next to you again, linking his arm through yours and rubbing your foreheads together, beginning to talk your ear off about something or other, having you try more of the feast and telling jokes to make you laugh. Your sweet laugh made his spirits soar even higher than before. And that just made him want to make you happy even more! Like a spiral of happiness.

And when, after everyone had left, you held him tighter, he held back just as tight, loving the heat of your entwined bodies curled up under the covers. You were holding a bit too tightly to be comfortable at times. But every time you recognized that and loosened your hold on him, he squeezed back tighter. It was alright, that's what he wanted to say. It was alright for you to hold him as tight as you needed.

After you eventually fell asleep, he kissed your forehead gently as you slept in his arms. He might not know the reason behind your sadness, but he'd always do whatever he could to make it go away. Nothing brought him greater joy than seeing yours. And the thought that his presence alone could soothe you made him so happy. He couldn't help himself and pressed more and more feather-light kisses all over your face.

He felt like the luckiest man in the world, getting to call you his, and you calling him yours.

Hopefully, you would be forever.

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

So! This was my first headcanon post! I uh hope you liked it! Not gonna lie, I'm a liiiittle nervous posting this ; 0 v 0) I guess I'm still not really used to sharing my writing with people haha

[factual-fantasy]

29 Asks! :DD Thank you! :}}📦

@holly-opal @tallchest13-blog

There was not a single thing I liked about the trailer. Not a single thing.

Not the visuals, not the hinted at Jumanji style story, not the casting, I hated all of it. The thing I hated the most was Jack Black being casted as Steve. 💀

I hated his voice for Bowser, I hate him playing as Steve. Sooooo much hatred and disappointment for this trailer 💀💀💀

AAAAA THANK YOU!! :))))))

I have made my own version of Tarr! :D They are not intended to be cute 💀

Soft? :0

I haven't heard of it <:0 google seems to suggest its a Roblox game..?

@spirited-splashes

AAAA IM GLAD TO HEAR IT!! :DDDD TEAM PLATONIC!!! :))))

@pokefan250

I'm pretty 50/50- I GOT THE 8 WINS IN FALL GUYS JUST HOURS BEFORE THE CHALLANGE ENDED SO THAT MADE ME HAPPYbut then my health came back to bite me and I had a very scary health day :x sooo.....

Other than Barnaby's mom living out on a big farm away from the neighborhood- I don't actually have many ideas! <:D

And I had no plans for the neighbors to have cars.. but now I'm thinking of giving Eddie a cute little mail car :))

Yeah I wouldn't use the word "miss"... miss makes me feel like home cares about Wally in a tender way and wants him to come back because it cares about him.. that's not quite the right vibe..

Home doesn't want Wally to leave, and it wants him to come back when he's gone.. but that's the only way I'd word it. Kind'a cold and with unknown intentions..

Also thank you so much!! :DDD

The timing if this is quite humorous. (I spent the last week making 10+ frog plushies)

@pewpewae

I imagine out of all the neighbors, Poppy and Barnaby would have the most knowledge on basic first aid and home remedies. Considering they both grew up way out in the sticks, you're bound to get hurt or sick and not have anyone nearby to help you. So they learned from their parents how to take care of themselves or others when they're unwell :))

If someone is injured or sick though, I can imagine that it might stress Poppy out to come running to her screaming- so people probably turn to Barnaby for those sorts of things <XD

I thought that Howdy gets up early and comes home late. So out of all the neighbors, Sally gets to spend the most time with him because he's almost always awake and out and about! :)

Howdy is also always on the move- doing things around the shop and working. Usually most neighbors cant follow him around from job to job fast enough- but Sally can! :)) She's been able to get to know him really well and they get along like two peas in a pod!

Howdy is witty and quick with his responses. He rarely stutters, so these two can just chatter away for hours and hours!

When it comes to worrying about him,, it is just the cold thing. But Howdy "not liking the cold" only scratches the surface of it. Howdy practically shuts down in the winter time, ALL the neighbors worry about him..

In the wintertime, Howdy is one lullaby away from collapsing on the floor and falling asleep 💀 the cold completely destroys his energy.. Also he's constantly hungry. He really slows down and starts running into things, forgetting things, sleeping in and being really hard to wake up.. <:/ and he gets sick pretty often in the winter so he's just not having a good time-

Huh, I've never seen anyone take that direction with Ingo! :0

@anewbieartist356

HELOOOO!! :}}}}}}}

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :)) IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE HIM! :}}}}}}

And yeah, his hair probably take a few hours to braid and I bet bedhead is his worst yet more common nightmare 💀

(Referencing this post)

WARHHRGG SOBBS LOUDLLYYY!!! 😭😭💞💞THANOYU SO MUCH!!! 🥹🥹🥹💞💞💞💞

@abaroo

I feel like unless Home deliberately interacted with Barnaby and wanted him to know its alive, he would never suspect Home to be a living entity. Barnaby assumes that Wally has bad anxiety and its amplified when he's alone.. thus inviting him over to his house just to get out of his own home for a bit, or spending the night at Wally's house..

Barnaby has stayed over at Wally's house a lot and Home watches him too.. but in the end Barnaby chalks up the weird feelings he gets to just the worry over Wally..

I've never played the game, but I love it :) the fandom can be a real pain sometimes..

Currently I'm only really drawing/thinking of the base Unovan pokédex, not the pokédex from black 2 and white 2. (There are some select exceptions to this)

Mostly because the second dex is HUGE. And because Pokémon white was the game I grew up playing- so that's the one I wanna pull the Pokémon from. Ngl though, I might not be able to resist incorporating Metagross from the second dex.. 👀👀

Also my violet team wont make any canon cameos, but I did draw a doodle of Grim and V as slimes! :}}

@holly-opal

AAAA THANK YOU!! :DDDD

Meow meow! :))

(Thank you! I wish the same for you! :} )

@minnesotamedic186 (Referencing this post)

AAAA THANKYIU!! :))) I have a couple ideas for them but I'm having a hard time writing them out 😔

@msdamneighty

AAA I LUB YOU TOO! :))))))

@neo-metalscottic

Hello! I've unfortunately not been doing well health wise.. this week has been a rough patch.. but I'm hangin in there as best I can! <:) The fam says hi! XDDD

As for your questions, the fam has been blessed with never being too cold or too hot. So they probably like the winter time because that's when I'm at my happiest :)) I've never given them snow- but I'm sure they'd love to play in it! And yes, Gerald absolutely desires to A-pose out on the garden XDDDD

I typically play as Pit or Metakight. As for the others, I wonder..

Maybe Bibi would play as Luigi, Cici as Bowser, Jangles as Peach and Gerald as Wario XD

Also thank you for the ask! :DD I look forward to your next one but no pressure! :)))))

@littlelightfish

Its very rare that anyone from the crew hides their illness.. If someone hid an illness that's a big no no because they can infect other members of the crew. Plus it's really easy to tell if they're sick-

Also thankfully, (aside from Octo that one time-) no one really hides injuries. If the wound is in an embarrassing spot and need help, they'll probably just get the crewmate they are most comfortable with to help them..

I think Tuna only has that gnarly hook hand, he doesn't have anything else to put on in its place 💀

I can imagine when he first got his prosthetic arm he probably hurt himself on it once or twice <:( eventually he got used to it though and didn't hurt himself anymore-

Who made his prosthetic arm.. hmm.. I kind'a imagined he put it together himself.. Hence why it looks impractical and dangerous 💀

I didn't have plans for him to miss anyone... perhaps his mother but she's gone.. at least he doesn't miss anyone from his old crew.

After a battle/conflict on the ship, the very first thing Tuna does is go looking for Ellie..🥺

I imagine rolls are Tunas favorite food because he's kind of a picky eater. So some beautifully made plain bread rolls are hard to beat! :))

I didn't intend for Red to have any siblings,, his family was mostly his rotten mom and dad. :(

I think Coco and Cuttlefish get along better than you might think! :)) They're both rather sassy and have a lot of the same opinions. Other than Tuna, there isn't anyone that Coco butts-heads with :))

Due to the varying body types, the crew typically doesn't steal each others clothes 😅 but I can see Red stealing Coco's coats and boots from time to time 🥺

I haven't thought much about Ellies family.. perhaps she lived with her cruddy uncle before running off with Octo and Seafoam? :0

Thankfully like you said- other than Octo, nobody's gotten hurt so badly they thought they'd lose them. <:)

I'm afraid I don't Understand that question about Red.. D:> But Blue Beauty's favorite food is probably krill! :0

And lastly, WAAHGRGGT THANOUU SO MUCH FOR THE ASKS SND INTEREST IN MY OCSSS!!!😭😭💞💞💞

@loud-kid2

While I have no plans to add E. Gadd to my AU, I have made my own version of King Boo! :))

Aww! I still need to work on Julies sisters, but I can see this being the direction I lean towards! :))

Wally would probably stay home and try to just recover.. but if Home his illness starts making his anxiety/paranoia way worse- I can see Barnaby staying over for a few nights to take care of him. Perhaps even bringing Wally to his house if he thinks it might help- :0

[slvttyharlow]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 craving his touch : jack harlow.

script. after you and jack decide to keep your relationship a secret to the public, you try your hardest not to get caught but once you start to crave his touch, things start getting messy.

ratings. minors and ageless blogs do not interact! | sfw/nsfw, fem! black! actress! reader, fluff, public sex, unprotected sex, p in v + a lil dirty talk. wc. 1.6k.

director's note. i'm so excited to be posting this, first smut on this acc, a bit nervous but i hope you guys love it. will be going back to writing so i can put out more pics for y'all.

masterlist 𐙚 previous fic 𐙚 taglist

"Girl, are you even listening?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth. 

The award show you were at was the last thing on your mind; sure you were glad to be nominated for the best actress award and other categories but as much as you loved your friends company, you weren't sitting next to the one person that made you smile.

Jack and you decided it was best for the both of you to sit at separate tables so people didn't suspect that you two were a couple and now you were regretting that idea. 

You were missing his touch, if you were sitting together now, he probably would have had his hand caressing your thigh under the table while whispering sweet things to you. 

But instead he’s four tables away from you as he sat with his friends and they look deep in conversation so he probably wasn't feeling the same way. 

"Clearly, your mind is somewhere else. What's on your mind?" Solana, your best friend asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, slight worry placed on her face. 

"Nothing, just can't wait to reach home and lay in my bed," you spoke, biting your bottom lip nervously not sure if she was going to believe your lie. 

You hated lying to your best friend, one can only think how upset she will be once she finds out what you have been hiding from her. 

A secret relationship meant no one knowing about your relationship with Jack. It was your idea to start one as you didn't want the world in your business; with the shaderoom documenting every part of your life, you wanted to keep the peace of your love life. 

What if you and Jack don’t work out, the world would be in the front row seats, watching your relationship fail and you didn't want that.

Then sometimes the paparazzi and the fans won’t give celebrities a chance to enjoy their life so them not knowing gives the two of you a chance to enjoy your relationship in peace and quiet without anyone input which is another problem with being a celebrity.

Solana eyebrows furrowed together as she didn’t believe it but before she gets to open her mouth to rebuttal, an announcer starts speaking and you let out a relief sigh. 

“And the best actress award goes to…” they begun as they open the envelope. 

Your friends that surrounded you grab your hands, squeezing it tight and you smile heavy as you awaited for the response. 

“[First name, Last name]!” the announcer exclaimed as the audience cheered; your friends screaming in your ear while the shock displayed on your face.

You get up from your chair and make your way to the stage, eyes locking onto Jack's who had the widest smile on his face, making your face heat up. 

You walk up the stairs and hug the two announcers before accepting the award from them. "Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening!" you spoke in the mic, trying to calm your racing heart, taking slow breaths. 

"I'm so grateful to my fans, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you guys," you start as you look into the crowd. "Sometimes I be feeling they gas me up too much," you chuckle as the audience laugh. 

"I wanna thank my family for always believing in me, my wonderful friends that support me and show me so much love..." you continued and your eyes land on Jack's once again, you could see how proud he was in his eyes and smile. 

"I want to thank this special person that entered my life unexpectedly, they match my energy and just wanna say thanks for sticking with me," you exclaimed as you lock eye contact with him as he discreetly blows a kiss to you before you walk behind stage as the award show goes to commercials. 

You decided to head to the bathroom as you needed to collect yourself after that moment, you couldn't believe you actually won. 

You were so nervous being up on stage as you looked out into the audience, everyone staring at you while you made your speech but once you made eye contact with Jack, all the nervousness seem to wash away. 

You kept walking, almost thinking you were lost until all of a sudden, you feel a hand pull you into a room, your senses on high thinking your in danger but as your nose takes a whiff of a familiar cologne, you open your eyes, noticing you were in the bathroom and taking in the sight of your boyfriend standing in front of you, smiling heavy.

“Jack! What the hell?!” You fire out as you punch him in the chest before crossing your arms over your chest. “You frightened the shit outta me!”

“Ouch, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says as he rubbed his chest. “I just wanted to be close to you.” 

“And congratulate you on your win, you deserve it,” Jack praised as a grin spread across your face as you hug him, taking in his cologne. “Thanks baby.” 

You hold onto him for a bit longer until you were finally able to break the hug. “I missed you too by the way, the whole show you were on my mind,” you admit as your eyes lock onto his lips before returning back to his eyes, Jack notices as he leans in and claimed your lips. 

A small moan escapes your mouth as your tongues dangled together, gripping each other tight — the two of you been anticipating a moment like this to get your hands on each other and you didn’t want it end so soon. 

“How about you lock the door and physically congratulate me?,” you smirked, pulling away from the kiss, pulling on his tie seductively. Jack flashes his famous smiles at you before locking the door and you pull up your dress revealing your bare pussy to him. 

“No panties? I think you planned for this exact moment,” Jack comment as he hoisted you up on the counter briefly before unbuckling his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down; immediately lining up his cock with your entrance with how wet you were, he would slide right in with no problem.

"Ahhh... Jack, please hurry..." you whined, a little impatient having to wait hours without his touch, plus you didn't know how long y'all had before someone wanted to use the bathroom. 

Jack nodded his head in response briefly before sliding into your throbbing hole. "Fuck..." he groaned, once he was all the way inside you, starting at a slow pace, gently moving his hips in and out.

Soft moans exit your mouth as you held onto him, he watches how his cock disappears and reappears even more wet than before. His grip on you becomes tighter as he changes the pace he’s going at, plunging in and out of you and you try so hard to hold back the moans that want to escape so it wouldn’t attract attention. 

You run your fingers through his hair before gripping on it softly as continues his torture on your cunt. “Shit…” you cursed under your breath, trying to catch your breath but every thrust knocks it back out of you. 

“You feel s’good babe,” he groaned as he felt your gummy walls tighten around his length, knowing you were close and he wasn’t far behind you. 

The thrill of getting caught excited Jack, he’s been wanting to show you out as his, scream to the rooftop of how he had an amazing girlfriend.

He focuses on making you feel every inch of him, loving the way you gripped on his hair, loving how your core sucked him in, his favorite sound coming out your mouth. 

“Jack… I’m coming…” you cried out as your cunt flutter around his cock as the coil in your stomach snaps. Jack gives you four more strokes before releasing his hot seed deep inside you, groaning as he intertwined his lips with yours as you rode your highs together. 

“Wow,” he spoke as the both of you try to catch your breathes. “Baby, I don’t think I can handle going back to sitting apart from you, how about we go home?” You offered with a smile, hoping he say yes. 

“Hm, can’t keep your hands off me, huh?” he taunt and you shove him playfully. “Oh shut up.”

“Yes we can go home but we got to be careful in not getting caught,” he chuckled as he set you down on your feet and you both fix yourselves as best as you could. 

“Ladies first,” Jack comments while you made sure your appearance was good and you smile, giving him a quick kiss on his lips before walking out the bathroom, giggling a bit of what the two of you had done. 

You walk outside the building onto the red carpet and quickly looked around seeing no one in sight, smiling from ear to ear as you made your way to your car, the driver opening your door for you. “Thank you,” you smiled at him as you get in the backseat.

Jack waited until after your car drove off to step outside, he was so eager to get home that he forgot to fix his hair and tie. He got into his car quickly, manspreading in the seat as he recalled what happened in the bathroom and he couldn’t wait to get home to start a round two. 

The two of you thought you were lucky enough not to get caught leaving the award show early but unknown to you two, there was a photographer outside that did caught a pic of the two of you leaving, thinking that the shaderoom and the rest of the world will want to know this information he came upon.

shaderoom posted two seconds ago: while celebrities were enjoying the award show, Jack Harlow and [Name] [Last name] were seen fleeing the scene, why did they leave so early, why didn’t they go to the after party and what happened to Jack’s appearance?

comment section. @itsyagirljaz, @j0hkiya @harlowarchives, @bernelflo, @iheartharlow + @jackmans-poison.

꒰ show has ended. — all rights reserved © harlowsthetic 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[aswaki]

his rib tattoo peaked out and i almost got dumb..... i need to see it in full. and— matthew's such a performer. baby did so well at the fancon. you wouldn't notice he was nervous. anyway this little scene needed to be out of my head. LIKE SERIOUSLY, imagine matthew still on high from the concert so he hurries backstage so he could play with you. he doesn't want his night of fun to end. he needs to put his dick inside you as soon as he gets off the stage. it's a routine at this point. he likes knowing your eyes were on him the whole event and you were as horny as he was. he could just ravish you in front of the crowd. post concert fuck!!!!!!!!

seok matthew x reader | flashfic | borderline explicit

contains: no gendered term for reader, idol matthew from 240323 fancon, suggestive tone, pet name ("baby")

matthew thrived on stage. he'd be drunk on the fans' cheers, blinding lights, and the music. it was thrilling for him as it was for you. seeing him perform was always electric.

one would think after getting to burn that much energy, he'd be exhausted but resting was the last thing on his mind whenever he finished an event. not when you were there.

after his performances, he'd meet you backstage where you would be dutifully waiting for him.

“my matty!” you exclaimed as he rushed to you. his toned arms wrapped themselves to your waist as you gave him a hug.

the world disappeared in the background as you reveled in the warmth he emanated. his body was still covered sweat but you didn't mind especially when you had have him this close to you. you could feel every dip and muscle on him.

“you were incredible! almost too hot, honestly.” you told him, as his hands caressed your sides. he grinned at your praise. it made you happy to be hearing so many people scream his name. he really was getting there.

matthew's eyes darkened as you called him hot. he chuckled at your words, “my number one fan. it always will be you, baby.”

he kissed your neck. his lips brushing against your skin sent shivers through your body. you sighed contently as his soft lips attached itself to you, as if it was leaving a promise.

okay, he was too hot on stage. not an almost. he actually was.

it's not his fault he had so much charisma. but in turn, it made you hot and bothered in your seat when you see him on stage do body rolls and other dance moves that made you want to eat glass. he would find ways to tease you during the performances, such as his eyes locking into yours when he'd wave his body or do something simple as wiping the dampness away from his chest.

his tattoos even found themselves peaking out tonight, especially his latest rib tattoo. the way it teasingly appeared and disappeared behind his clothing through the night made it sexier. your hand instinctively went to his ribs and rubbed the spot where his tattoo was on. it wasn't hard to slip your hand underneath his loose sleeveless shirt.

this filmsy top was an accomplice to his crimes tonight. it had his strong arms on full display that made you want to bite into his muscles. it had revealed his tattoo. it had also given people a nice look of his toned chest. all the while he'd be interjecting aegyo while looking this fine. these things were enough to drive you mad.

you wondered how many people felt the same thing as you did.

these thoughts left your mind as soon as he grinded against you. his fingers traced the line of your waist down to your hips. he rolled his hips once more to you, wasting no time to express his arousal. you gulped down the excitement in your throat when you felt his hard on. the adrenaline that coursed through both of your veins made it impossible to resist each other.

matthew had a lot of energy left from performing that he always wanted to use it on you. the thing was he'd be so impatient and needy.

he locked eyes with you and in a seductive tone, he whispered, “let me give you your own private performance, yeah?”

a/n: so we have two idol stories consecutively! (here's the other one) i'd probably rewrite this to a longer & better one when i get to properly sort of my thoughts and if y'all want it. (but i also want to be able to learn how to settle with flashfics/drabbles & hcs too wahh) (update: i made a flashfic from an anon thought in which it can be seen as a continuation from this of some sorts.)

divider credit: crazyfrm

image credit: matt _0528_0710 on twitter/x

[i-heart-slashers]

Asexual reader rejecting the boys advances.

⤷ female reader, human, asexual, no mentions of race or body type.

🩸— this may become a series of ace!reader x lost boys. i'm not sure what kind of ace it will be? i'm thinking polyromantic ace where it's not sexual but is romantic.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

We don't have to take our clothes off by Jermaine Stewart

Under the neon glow of the boardwalk, you sauntered with an air of confidence, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore serving as your background music. The atmosphere was alive with laughter and chatter, the vibrant energy infectious as you made your way through the bustling crowd.

You couldn't help but chuckle as the blond rocker, Paul, sauntered up to you with the swagger of a seasoned flirt, introducing himself with a grin.

His enthusiasm was palpable, his steps like a playful dance as he walked backward, narrowly avoiding collisions with passersby. His energy was infectious, reminiscent of a golden retriever eager to make a new friend.

With a mischievous grin, Paul leaned in, his blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. "So, babe, how about it? You and me, a ride on my bike. I promise to hold on tight if you get scared," he teased, practically bouncing excitedly.

You flashed him a coy smile, patting his shoulder as you gracefully sidestepped his invitation. "I'll pass, thanks,". His expression shifted from exuberance to confusion, his excitement deflating like a popped balloon. It seemed he was at a loss for words, stunned by your rejection.

As you continue along the boardwalk, the vibrant lights of the amusement park beckon in the distance, accompanied by the excited screams of thrill-seekers. Ignoring the lingering confusion of Paul behind you, you press on, leaving his bewildered gaze trailing after you.

It wasn't the first time you'd left someone dumbfounded by your response, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. You were accustomed to navigating the dance of rejection, effortlessly sidestepping advances with grace and poise.

Moments later, Paul caught up to you, his easy grin replaced by a more subdued demeanor. "Sorry if I came on too strong," he offered, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "I just thought… well, you seemed interested."

You offered him a reassuring expression, your tone light and playful. "No worries," you replied casually, smirking at the subtle shift in his demeanor. "I'm just not really into the whole riding-on-the-back-of-motorcycles thing, which really means I-want-in-your-pants. Besides, I've got other plans tonight."

The blond's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Other plans, huh? Mind if I ask what they are?" he inquires, his curiosity evident. With a wink, you leave him to ponder your cryptic response as you continue your solitary journey.

Paul walks over to the guys, almost in shock, as he tells them what just really happened. Marko smirks, patting him on the shoulder mockingly, and then proceeds to push past him to 'show him how it's done.'

As you strolled onward, you couldn't help but reflect on the encounter with Paul. It was a familiar dance, one you'd performed countless times before with both men and women alike. Some people didn't take rejection so well at times.

Immersing yourself in the sights and sounds of the bustling boardwalk, you couldn't shake the feeling that tonight held something different, something unexpected.

Before long, another figure stepped beside you, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting. This guy was shorter than Paul but blond, too. His hair was styled in curls, and he had a baby face that also reminded you of a Greek statue from a museum.

Marko introduced himself with a charming smile and a twinkle in his eye, his enthusiasm almost matching Paul's in its fervor. "Hey there, beautiful. Mind if I join you for a stroll?" he asks with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he bites his thumb in a playful gesture.

You allowed yourself a playful smile, intrigued by Marko's forwardness. "Sure, why not?" you replied with a slight shrug. But as the conversation flowed, you couldn't help but notice a familiar pattern emerging, a relentless pursuit that seemed destined to end in rejection.

As you walk together, Marko tries his best to charm you with compliments and jokes, but his efforts fall flat against your steadfast resolve. Despite his best attempts, you sense his growing frustration as you politely deflect his advances.

Eventually, Marko's facade crumbles, his expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "I don't understand," he admits with a shake of his head, his shock shining through. "I've never been turned down like this before."

He was the one in the group who could usually best lure people in. A few times during a lure, he only had to look at a woman once, and she was his, but with you, it was like a reversal.

You offer him a sympathetic smile, patting his arm reassuringly. "Hey, it happens to the best of us," you say gently. But trust me, it's not you. It's something else. I'll see you around, Marko." you reassure him, your words echoing with empathy.

With that, you bid Marko farewell as you continued your journey along the boardwalk, leaving him to contemplate your parting words as you forge ahead. He, too, goes back to the guys with a frown; Paul lets out a wild roar of a laugh when he realizes that Marko has struck out.

Enjoying the salty breeze and the sound of waves crashing against the shore, you soon find yourself approached by another guy. With his dark, mysterious aura and brooding demeanor, he exudes an undeniable magnetism.

"Hey there," he says in a low, husky voice as you draw near. "You look like you could use some company. Would you mind if I joined you?" He questions before introducing himself as Dwayne and also keeps a respectful distance.

This was a far cry from Paul's arm that he had slung over your shoulder and Marko's shoulder-to-shoulder walk.

You smile at his straightforward approach, admiring his confidence but also liking how respectful he was off the bat. "I don't mind at all," you reply, nodding for him to fall into step beside you; this was becoming somewhat of a pattern.

Although these guys were weirdly understanding about being shot down. It's clear they're all very handsome, and even though you don't feel anything sexual towards them, you still have eyes, and somehow, you feel safe with the way they react to being rejected.

As you walk together, Dwayne remains mostly silent, his presence a comforting and calming presence at your side. Occasionally, he'll offer a small smile or a nod in response to something you say, but for the most part, he seems content to simply walk in silence.

Despite his quiet demeanor, you find yourself drawn to him, intrigued by the air of mystery that surrounds him. There also feels like an untold story tugging at you, trying to pull you in like a good book in the middle of a rainstorm.

Then again, it felt that way with Paul and Marko, too.

When you finally come to a stop at the end of the boardwalk, Dwayne turns to face you, his expression unreadable but his eyes understanding. "Thank you for letting me walk with you," he says softly, his dark eyes meeting yours. "It was nice."

You return his smile, feeling a sense of warmth and gratitude wash over you. He hadn't tried to ask you out even though you had a feeling that's what his company was for initially. "Anytime," you reply, giving him an appreciative smile before heading off.

After a few minutes, I feel a chill come over me and let out a small gasp seeing yet another guy walking beside me; this one gives off an aura of 'no fucks', and he was the only one who hadn't asked to walk with you but was doing it anyway.

He simply introduced himself as David, then lit up a cigarette.

As you walk together, no matter how hard he tries to charm you, you remain calm and collected, brushing off every flirtatious comment or suggestive wording. It was like David was firing everything he had in his arsenal, but they bounced off you effortlessly.

With each rejection, David's confidence begins to waver, his facade of cockiness slowly crumbling away to reveal a hint of vulnerable confusion beneath. It's clear that he's not used to being turned down, especially by someone as captivating as yourself.

Eventually, David stops abruptly, his expression a mixture of frustration and admiration. "You're something else, you know that?" he says, shaking his head in disbelief. "I've never met anyone like you before."

You smile at his words, feeling a sense of pride swell within you. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," you reply with a soft smile. You realize it's a sad but true statement, but you handle the situation graciously and tactfully.

Offering him a sympathetic smile as you bid him farewell, seeing the other guys standing together not too far away, watching with rapt interest. "Don't take it personally. It's a me thing," you say to David with a slight shrug, as his cool blue eyes can only watch as you continue on your way.

As the night wears on, the Lost Boys find themselves gathered around a crackling campfire, the warm glow casting flickering shadows across their blood-smeared faces. Despite their best efforts, none of them have been able to sway you with their charms, and they can't help but feel a mixture of frustration and disbelief.

"So let me get this straight," Paul says, his brow furrowed in confusion. "None of us were able to win her over? Not even a little?"

David shakes his head, a bemused smile playing at the corners of his lips. "It seems that way," he replies, his tone laced with amusement.

Marko sighs frustratedly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I still can't believe it," he mutters, his expression mixed with disbelief and admiration. "We've never met anyone like her before."

Dwayne remains silent, his dark eyes twinkling with a knowing glint as he observes the scene unfolding before him.

David breaks the tension with a grin, his confidence undiminished. "Well, boys," he declares, his voice ringing out with a hint of admiration. "I think it's safe to say we've met our match. And what a match she is."

With a collective nod of agreement, the Lost Boys dispersed into the night, their spirits lifted by the thrill of the chase, even if it ended in defeat.

[luckyshotwrites]

Treat with Lev? 🥺 I feel like he'd love Halloween for some reason.

This will be the day of the halloween party in Widfali, WAY way back.

In response to this post for my "Trick" Or "Treat" Special.

Haunted

Their screams scrambled in desperation down the hall because their owners wanted out of this attraction.

Hearing them, his date clung tighter to the arm Lev looped with theirs.

He fought to hide his bastard smile, taking back a sweet metaphorical sip of his date expression. You'd be such a treat to chase.

Every Halloween, he eagerly participated in various attractions throughout the month. It was as if the very essence of the holiday was tailored to fulfill his deepest desires.

He preferred being the pursuer, no matter what other roles he tried. Lev found it thrilling to terrorize those who were alone or separated from their groups. He'd even dedicate himself to stalking one target at a time, ensuring they wouldn't leave without a scream.

He jittered thinking about it. Memorizing every square inch of a place, finding breaches, small nooks, and crannies for himself to hide or where a potential victim would go, believing they were unassailable.

On exceedingly rare occasions, using his meager limited magic, he'd leave them an indelible experience that they couldn't prove happened.

He kept pace with his date, stepping through the fog and dim lights.

This was the only acceptable month for him to let loose and enjoy a fraction of his hunting instincts.

He missed the real thing. That's why when he pretended to be a psycho killer, he'd play with the idea of them being an actual meal. Humans are red meat, after all, aren't they?

Admittedly, Lev had scant experience hunting sentient beings. There was such an abundance of energy-filled beasts on Yexodele that he didn't consider anything else.

Adding consequences to an attraction like this is so alluring.~

He smirked at his next thought. I should be able to indulge. Just once.

His hand hid his lips to hold in his giddy giggle.

Despite his pleasure in imagining himself biting a particular morning crew diva in half, humans, on the other hand, weren't a challenge as actual prey.

When a redheaded coworker came to mind, his sigh lost its savor. They're simply persistent.

Lev swallowed dozens of humans, yet couldn't say he devoured any since he released them later.

Not that they know that.

He induced fear of the unknown that way.

Claiming, to his coworker once upon a time, it made his prey all the more delectable. 

He'd be lying if he said a part of him didn't enjoy it.

Lev was acutely aware of his twisted need for control, which permeated almost all his habits. He planned nearly everything meticulously and very obsessively.

Like today. His date picked this 'asylum' last night, so he researched everything he could, even treaded during the day using magic so the cameras couldn't catch him.

He would have gone through it alone if his date hadn't insisted on getting there early.

As always, Lev still anticipated their conversations and events. He scanned everything, detailing the doors along the halls, those that looked inviting and others blocked off with "horrific" scenes of manufactured blood and guts splayed along as decorum.

They dashed away from the "killers" and hid until it was safe. Occasionally, he'd laugh to extinguish their fright. 

Adrenaline brought people closer. To him, it was an acceptable way to nurture their trust. How will you be when it's broken?

He heaved in perfect mimicry to their own.

His date pressed closer, like a cub without a mom. They rarely were this close unless he built them up to be.

I'll be holding you suffocatingly tight real soon. Lev said in his head. Then, he noticed the unintentional hand he placed on their head. He couldn't move it without exposing his mess up.

So, Lev played it off, running it down their hair. He leaned over as he did and whispered gently, "You're not trying to use me as a shield from danger, are you?~" He hummed, teasing them because his back was to the door.

His date replied, like many, saying he made them feel safe.

That was his goal.

A few loud cries nearby startled his date so much that they fully pressed into his exposed chest. His vest did little to cover him. You don't even know me.

Their hands squeezed the fabric against his back. His eyelids lowered, further hiding his yellow hue.

They mistook him for a protector. You're holding something far more dangerous than anything here.

He internally warned, like his date would hear him.

Their body trembled. You're scared of this? It's fake. They can't actually hurt you.

It unsettled him, so he lifted his hands to push them off. He couldn't bring his arms down. Why am I hesitating?

He knew why.

Lev lifted his head, his mind obfuscated in unforgivingly vivid memories. The sounds around them distorted into thundering skies. Periodically flashing with blue light. It illuminated the cavern's rocky interior, revealing himself and his much smaller and younger kin.

She held onto his midnight colored tail as he stood between her and the raging storm outside. He put out an arm, letting his clawed and scaled fingers get wet.

"You'll get hurt!" She begged, weakly tugging at him.

"Worry not," he waved the hand outside about, "even if we get struck by lightning, we're Drakin's. It'll feel like-a-little-." He poked her with his dry hand to jokingly demonstrate how it'd feel. "Tingle."

After, he brought his hand back inside, he patted it's wet palm between her tiny horns, "It'll be safe for us, I promise...Lucia."

His date's voice pulled him out and back to the "horror".

Their sound was forlorn for response, "are you scared too?"

The question made him want to laugh aloud. What would he be scared of here? Humans. Never.

You're all beneath me.

Upon examining their face, he remained unsettled. There's a reason they look that way though. He checked around the room—Lev knew he saw a few broken mirrors upon entering. He swung his head around, not pulling from them.

He used the first he found.

How. His confidence was stripped from his face. Lev wasn't smiling.

The expression he carried scared him. I can't walk around like this. He quickly recovered and chuckled like he hadn't changed.

This was unlike him.

He hugged them harder.

"Not with you here, love~," He said to uphold his charm.

However, by the time they reached the end, he had lost his motivation to continue. Not for their sake. No, his date wasn't working like they usually did.

His fingers started to fidget with his strands.

He removed his phone from his pocket and slipped into his car.

He flashed himself with his screen. Besides the light, it was hard to read the time. His eyes wouldn't focus.

He pulled at his hair. What does it say?

Lev finally read it. I have time.

He sank into the leather seat.

His arms fell limply, and his phone slipped in the space between his chair and cupholders. He didn't attempt to get it. I'll go to Drake's party.

Lev remained there, thinking, what would they say? Who's going to be there to have fun with? Could I get kicked out? He felt his control coming back.

He turned on his car, and his Bluetooth synced to his phone.

"Those fools make for a perfect distraction, don't they?" He muttered as Frankie Sanada's song mockingly played, 'The place I once knew.'

...

THANK YOU FOR SENDING IN THIS ASK AND READING!! I enjoyed it a lot and I think I might make it a side chapter. xD HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY! (Nonnegotiable).

[vanillavengeance]

i totally keep forgetting to ask everytime I reread mm and you might have said this already, but is the implication that leo donnie and raph killed the foot clan dudes? i really wouldn't put it past them

Not killed them in the moment, but…

They should have gone further. Left the state, even.

The Lieutenant and Brute screams turn more shrill, bruises and gashes stinging in the high winds. The harsh metal cables bite into where they’re wrapped, pulled tight by the snarling Red Turtle around their bodies. Neither could move even if they wanted to.

An edge of a building clips Brute’s leg and lets off a sharp ‘snap’. His scream curdles into whimpers but the purple drone doesn’t slow or go higher.

“This is your fault, you imbecile!” Lieutenant shouts over the wind, frantic. Brute whimpers and gives tiny, repeated nods.

Lieutenant’s not dumb, unlike his unfortunate companion. He should have insisted they get to the other side of the country.

Not that it would have helped if they ever found out. The Blue Turtle has those portals that make everything an irritating challenge.

They just barely squirm away from a different ledge, unable to see through the wetness gathered in their eyes. The sounds of New York blue around them and with how fast and haphazardly the drone is flying, Lieutenant wouldn’t be surprised if this is their third lap around the city.

Flying until their fingers are numb and their screams turn silent, Lieutenant has hope that it might be over. The drone slows as it flies over one of the waterways and he has the desperate thought that if they do meet their end here, at least it’ll have a good view of the city.

Alas, the Purple Turtles drone has other plans. Swooping low, it glides to a complete stop underneath the Brooklyn Bridge. Lieutenant blinks at the gentle sway and leans into the silent, limp form tied to his back. Brute had gone silent after his broken leg was once again smashed into a gargoyle, leaving him to figure out if they would be surviving this mess.

It’s always the youngest that’s the most protected. They should have known better after the Kraang to not mess with the Turtles, especially the Orange one.

They’re jostled into place suspended by a support beam and the little drone comes down to hover in front of Lieutenant. Using what little energy he has for a snarl, he stares down the steadily blinking red light. The robot lets out a tiny beep and then Lieutenant is blinded, eyes burning and wrenching a new scream from his throat. He can barely breath through the pepper spray overwhelming his senses.

Through his gasps of pain the drone beeps once more before it buzzes off. Lieutenant merely breathes through the stinging off his eyes and face, wondering if they’ll be noticed before he goes blind.

If this was it, Lieutenant has only one regret.

Why must he die trussed up like a turkey with the man who ensured their demise?

————————————————————————

“I’m just saying they’re probably going to be crawling back. If you had just let me deploy my prototype—“

“We ain’t killing people, Donnie. Not when I’m here. I could care less what ‘ya do in your free time.”

“I don’t know, I think Dontron might be on to something. They were still screaming when they flew off. Could have done with a few more slashes in the squishier areas.”

“I’ll say it again since it hasn’t gotten through your heads; I don’t care what ‘ya do in your free time.”

“Oh ho ho~, I read you loud and clear, big daddy.”

“Affirmative, objective has been made crystal.”

“After we get Mikey back, though, yeah?”

“Uh, duh.” “Agreed.”

————————————————————————

I wrote this off the fly so excuse any errors, but here ya go :D

[skyloftian-nutcase]

The Caregiver (LU Twilight Ficlet)

Dusk usually soured Twilight's mood, but today it was the rain. Or the walking. Or the constant fighting they'd been doing recently. He wasn't sure. Maybe it was none of those things.

Some days just weren't good days.

After the chores were done, Twilight offered to do a perimeter check and disappeared into the forest, shifting into his wolf form. He felt... different when he was like this. He supposed it was a stupid observation to make, saying one felt different when one was a wolf. Of course that would feel different.

But it was more than just the physicality of it. Like this, he was considered a monster. Like this, he was considered a sweet friend. Like this, he wasn't expected any heroic duties. Like this, people were afraid of him. Like this, he could just be with animals and nature. Like this, he could be left alone.

Like this, he couldn't cry.

Today just wasn't a good day. Anxieties and worries filled him, words biting into his mind like beasts tearing his sanity apart. Things that would usually be a quick observation that he would swat away suddenly returned with reinforcements, ready to trample him into the dust.

Four hated shadow magic, and Twilight used it extensively.

Time was happily married, Sky was head over heels in love with someone who probably loved him just as much, and Twilight was alone.

Wild could have breakdowns because everyone understood that he was a mess, and Twilight had to be the strong one for him even if he felt like he was going to fall apart.

Warriors had so many reasons to be a broken mess yet he wasn't, and Twilight had so few reasons yet he was.

Hyrule and Legend had no families, and Twilight had one that adored him yet he treated them poorly, he was never around anymore for them.

Wind had seen too much at his age but still had hope, and Twilight had a peaceful wonderful childhood and was filled with nothing.

Sometimes... sometimes Twilight just wanted it to end. Sometimes he wished he could sleep as well and as long as Sky seemed to, and sometimes he was so insane with energy and had nothing to do with it.

Four would hate him if he knew. Wild would never rely on him if he saw how Twilight hurt too, he wouldn't want to burden the Ordonian with his problems. Sky and Time would offer sympathetic words or touches but that didn't change the hollowness inside him. Warriors would tease and try to perk him up, and it would only emphasize how much better the captain was. Hyrule, Legend, and Wind would offer their support in their own ways, and it would highlight Twilight's pathetic state of mind even more.

Who else would hate him, he wondered. Would it just be Four? Hyrule might hate him, with as much magical energy as he has about him, shadow magic probably felt like a disease to him. If he showed his true nature, revealed all his secrets, his thoughts, his desires, his beliefs, his feelings... who else would hate him?

Who would be disappointed in him?

A choking sound emitted form his throat, making his chest burn. He couldn't cry as a wolf, but it would still try to escape.

Just let it out. No one's here.

Twilight shifted back into Hylian form and collapsed into a pile of leaves. The tears came in waves, racking his body with violent tremors and muffled sobs before leaving him drained and exhausted, and then it would start anew. He felt like his heart and mind were screaming at each other, his heart taking him and shaking him to his core until he was depleted while his mind told him to get over it.

Others have it worse. I need to take care of them. I have no excuse to feel like this. So what if they hate me for who I am, for what I think and believe, I can help them and support them until we get to that point. They don't have to know who I really am. And if they find out, then...

Then what? What would he do when he was an outcast to some of his brothers? If he couldn't support the others because they were afraid to bother him? He wasn't foolish with his emotionalism, he knew he wasn't going to be thrown out or anything, but... but he imagined he would be shunned. The bitter cold stabbed him from the inside out, making the tears spring fresh as if he hadn't cried four times already.

This was so stupid. He knew better than to let this upset him.

But today just wasn't a good day.

So much time passed the sun had completely faded behind the horizon. Twilight shivered as the damp cool air of night settled into his skin. It chilled the hot tears that stained his cheeks and slammed reality into his soul like a slap to the face.

Twilight took a deep breath, wiped his face clean, and rose.

Perhaps I will be an outcast if they find out. Perhaps some of them will hate me, and some will pity me to the point of exclusion. So they don't have to find out. I can support them as I am, with everything as it is. I can help them and be there for them, offer what little assistance I can provide.

They don't have to know who I am.

Twilight took another breath, steadying himself. He just wanted to help. The camaraderie meant the world to him, but he could live without it if need be. He just wanted to help. He could help - he knew Time's fate and could maybe alter it. He saw Wild's pain and had his trust, so he could help him through his trauma. Wolfie saw more than anyone, and Twilight could soothe the hurts the others held close to their hearts.

Twilight took a third breath, and felt whole again. Because this wasn't about him. It was about his family.

He went back to camp, and smiled when everyone greeted him.

Time watched him a little too long, eye discerning. "Everything all right?"

Twilight waved a dismissive hand as he walked to Wild, settling beside his little brother. "Of course."

[klm-zoflorr]

For the character ask game whose name I forgot… I am also requesting Jon if that’s alright. If not may I request Sasha?

Okayge sorry I'm answering Sasha first because ive got the brainworms right now. Thanks.

First impression: So the first appearance of Sasha we get is the Michael statement I think? Or the calliope bit. I don't really remember. Anyways I think i heard of her before in the fandom perhaps. I... Honestly don't remember what idea of her i got. Maybe that people missed her and wished she had more time lmao

Anyways, her first appearance rolled in and in addition to everything Jon said about her (that she was smart and competent) it struck me how much sheer main character energy i got out of her. She's brave too i feel like. I loved her dynamic with Jon! And her voice is so neat. Idk. I think it was love at first sight (first listen)

Impression now: So i don't feel like listening to the rest of the podcast changed my impression that much, cause obviously, yknow, she has no screen time LOL. But I explored her character on my own a bit i think. She's very only superficially analysed by the fandom i feel and it makes me sad :( anyways she's my wife and my prettiest princess and i love her and i want to wrap her in a blanket and give her everything good and turn her into an eye avatar and feed her innocents trauma lmao. I want only good things for her and she's not dying again on my watch :/

Favorite moment: I think it's when, during the prentiss attack, she gets out of document storage to save tim. It both shows how much she cares and also her absolute bravery and selflessness to the point of foolishness. We were all screaming for Tim to notice Jane. And this badass motherfucker was the one who actually went and jumped at him to get him out. Girl! Hell yeah! Also her quick thinking, she ran towards the exit after that. And the fire alarm... I love her discussion with elias after that, and her recalling her time in artefact storage... And then she dies. The best really are gone first (this says a lot about martin i guess lol. SORRY XD)

Unpopular opinion: So like, you know in episode 161 or 162 when she's talking with tim and she says it could never have worked between them? I feel like a lot of people saw that and went "she's aro" and like power to you obviously hc what you want but i feel like basing it on this singular piece of dialogue is. Meh. Like... Sometimes two people who are hot and smart and funny and nice and allo and get along well just won't work romantically and. That's fine that's normal. Idk yeah that's just that. My hot take!

Idea for a story: gosh. Ummmm. Need to come up with a new one. It's about sasha... And... Okay i want her to interact with elias. What are they doing? Okay okay NO i think sasha and the not them should argue and maybe pull each other's pigtails. In heaven or hell or purgatory or the inside of sasha's mind whatever. I think that would be quite fun.

Favorite relationship: you know what? I was all for Michael & Sasha's fun little thang and I still am. Bite me.

Favorite headcanon: mmmh. I think she would be an excellent eye avatar and wouldn't have many qualms with losing her humanity. I don't think she cares about hurting people because she digs into their lives, at least if it's people she doesn't care about. Like she's nice to her friends, but everyone else? She might actually be a bit of a bully and I am all for it.

Thank you for the ask!!!; i mighte do jon later maybe idk. Bye for now.

[whumpy-daydreams]

Powerless

Masterlist

Previous Next

CW: experimented on, cattle prod/electrocuted

Rowena didn't resist as she was strapped down to the table. Didn't brace herself for the sting of the needle, the hot feeling that spread across her body like the tide rising, the pain that would eventually come.

"Create a flame." Dr Mason was indifferent as always. When Rowena failed to do so electricity sparked across her side. Fire flickered along her fingers, and the doctor gave a sound of approval.

She tried to maintain the flames but it was harder than usual. Another burst of electricity had her gritting her teeth. A flame flickered and died.

The cattle prod almost punctured her thigh, electricity coursing through her in waves of needles. Rowena screamed. But no fire appeared.

Again and again her muscles spasmed until she couldn't breathe, mouth frozen in silent agony.

"Enough," Dr Mason said. "I want to see if the drug works, not kill her." She typed something, distracted by her research before realising everyone else in the room was waiting for instructions. "In ten minutes stimulate her again, provided her heartrate's gone down a bit."

Hours of pain later Rowena couldn't move. She'd given up counting down the minutes after the first hour and all she could do now was wait for the next round of pain to begin. Every ten minutes there was another round, halted only to let her recover before starting again.

Her body was covered in burns from the electricity, bleeding in a few places from where the prongs had broken skin. The doctor had said she didn't want her dead - but that didn't seem like mercy.

When the prongs of the cattle prod stabbed into her calf again Rowena didn't scream. She'd been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while, only staying lucid enough to avoid biting her tongue as she seized.

"Let's stop for now. Everyone take a break, we'll resume this in an hour." Rowena almost sobbed as people began leaving. A whole hour of peace. Two nurses stayed, checking her vitals to make sure Rowena wouldn't suddenly die.

Dr Mason was true to her word. Rowena couldn't see the time, but she'd bet good money that the next round of electricity was delivered almost to the second. Still no powers, but a short nap had helped restore some of energy, and a small spark was glowing once again deep in her mind.

It only took two more rounds before Rowena was able to conjure anything. It could barely be called a flame - just a tiny spark that died almost as soon as it appeared. The energy it took felt enormous.

Rowena could hear the doctor scribbling frantically. Apparently her small display of power hadn't been enough, and this time the cattle prod was on her chest.

The eruption of fire almost burnt the guard, who jumped back with a yelp. But that was too much for Rowena's already exhausted. Darkness took her, a dreamless sleep that rolled over her like a wave, and Rowena welcomed it with open arms.

[nyxirrationalstories]

If you don't mind, would you please do another request for me? , since you're the only Tumblr that writes for Saint Seiya that I know 🥺

So, when they are (Seiya,hyoga,shiryu,Shun,Ikki ) with their s/o, the s/o is still confused about what a saint is, what a gold saint is and everything related to that🥲.

The s/o was silent for a moment while blinking her eyes, then smiled innocently and said "wanna some cookies/cake?" Because s/o doesn't know how to respond and still remembers some handsome men she met after visiting the sanctuary (because s/o is curious)

I love you 💋

This emoji cake is for you

🍰

Here I'm not going to divide it into characters, but into dubs. You see, in Latin Spanish, the Saints and Saint Pope were changed to "Knights and the Great Patriarch" so both situations can be interesting. I'm sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted, but I feel they were going to do almost the same result in all of them. That and to make it more interesting, I'll add some lore from my Saint Seiya au (it's not much, it's something I've already repeated in some asks).

Thanks for the cake, it made me hungry already jsjsjs And don't worry, I have no aks limit.

“Saints and the Holy Pope.” --- So they're Catholic? --- Seiya looked confused at Ikki, who could only shrug his shoulders. For his part, Shun was biting slower at the cookie in his mouth, hoping it could spare him his turn to explain. Hyoga wanted to scream and Shiryu was trying to keep the swan saint from blurting out some slur. For your part, you were still confused, and your friends' expression wasn't helping you feel any better. --- Did you know that the word saint is not only related to the Catholic religion? --- Seiya answered confidently, only for Ikki to shake his head --- Wait, it does have to do with Christianity, so why does Athena…? --- Well, gods don't reincarnate either, they just possess. I think someone was very sleepy the day he started putting terms in. --- So you're Catholics? --- Hyoga's exasperation made you jump, positioning yourself behind Shun, who put his arm around you to protect you. --- No one is Catholic here. --- Hyoga looked like he was going to explode at any moment, one more word and he seemed to freeze everything in front of him --- We are saints of Athena, with the energy of the cosmos. Trained hard from a very young age and sent into the cruelest of battles. --- You mean you are pagans? ---… yes, something like that, Hellenic I think would be the right word. --- Shiryu answered. --- Although I wouldn't blame you if you said we are pagan Catholics or pagan Catholics, that Saint Pope stuff does confuse the first time --- Shun's words, as always, cheered you up and made you feel better.

""Knights and Grand Patriarch."" --- I don't want to insult you guys, but that sounds like a cult and a very dangerous one --- the faces around you seemed to freeze for a few seconds, before giving way to the funniest faces you could have ever seen: Seiya couldn't help but open his mouth, Ikki had his eyes like a plate while Shun was biting his lips. For their part, Shiryu and Hyoga seemed to be pondering your words --- I mean, I know you all explained a lot of terms to me that made me quite dizzy…. --- Seiya explains his ass off. --- Ikki replied, causing Seiya to frown.

--- That's not true! --- bellowed the pegasus knight.

--- You called the Island of Death “Island of the Dead Queen”, you can't be trusted!

--- Hey, if you put it like that about the cult and the knights… it does fit. --- Hyoga muttered to himself --- I mean, yes, the gods are real and so is the cosmos… but their methods are just like cultists.

--- Except for master Dohko --- replied Shiryu

--- Are you sure he is also an exception? I mean, not all cults use the “hit Ikki hard” method.

--- Wouldn't it be more objective to say that the Graude Foundation is the cult and the knights are just people who took in orphans? --- Shun asked.

--- I don't think so, the Foundation would then be a means to gather followers. --- you questioned

--- Sect or not, the point is that we are knights of Athena. And we have to protect the world with our cosmos.

--- Mainly the reincarnation of Athena.

--- … but Greek gods don't reincarnate. The Hindus do, and the closest thing to reincarnation, in Europe, are the Celts. Either they are lying to you or Athena had help from other gods, therefore, there are Celtic gods and/or Hindus.

--- … you said you didn't understand anything --- Seiya criticized, which made you cross your arms in response. --- At least I'm not in a cult for not asking the right questions. --- and so you and Seiya started a new discussion.

Bonus: 1737 --- What you said doesn't make any sense at all, why would you go with foreign warriors, what does a demigod have to do outside of her homeland? --- Ada could only laugh at your comment, but you didn't share the sentiment.

--- I just want to see how they fight, it's different from our style --- you could tell the redhead was trying to calm you down, but her attempts almost bordered on the absurd in your mind. --- Besides, my older brothers are here, I don't think father and earth will miss me with intensity.

--- It's because of a boy, isn't it? I saw the ones in golden armor, varied beauty, it's because of one of them, isn't it? --- Ada could only look at you in confusion.

--- No, not at all, I just want to know how they think. What is that thing they call cosmos, why do they shout their attacks, why don't they use weapons, why don't they transform? I want to know… --- sigh, lying down next to you --- Aren't you curious too? --- I feel like they're just like the Keltois, only foreign. I don't understand the excitement. --- You mumble. --- What if you come with me?! --- I won't die in the name of another god! Lugh protects us, I mean, your father protects us! --- … You want me to explain what they are again, don't you?

---Please.

[shallyne]

Feysand Week Day 7: Free Prompt

Runaway Bride and her Found Family

Last fic for Feysand Week :( it's already over, I'm so sad. @officialfeysandweek2023 enjoy, people

Words: 2,738

TW: Tamlin & Ianthe

Feyre is getting married. Or is she?

There was one question that always crept back, no matter how many times Feyre tried to push it back, shouldn't your wedding day be the happiest day of your life?

It would be, she knew that. She knew. She knew. Did she know? Yes, she did know. It was only her nerves that put her down. When the ceremony was over she would be happy. Married to the love of her life, Tamlin.

Feyre shuddered, earning a stern look from Ianthe and a worried look from Alis. It felt wrong, so wrong. She shouldn't feel that way. Tamlin, she loved him. Did she? Yes, of course she did.

Her hands began to shake and Feyre folded them together, taking a breath. Everything would be alright. Everything would be good. She would be safe. Would she? She would be loved.

The corset of her dress felt tight, too tight. She couldn't breathe.

"Would you leave me alone for a moment?" she asked Ianthe and Alis, her hands resting on her stomach. Deep breath. They looked at her, unsure. "Only five minutes."

Ianthe opened her mouth to reject but Alis spoke first, "Of course! We will check if everything is alright downstairs, call us if you need anything."

Ianthe wordlessly stomped outside, leaving Alis and Feyre alone for a quiet moment, who smiled up at Feyre, seeming almost sad. Alis' hand rested on Feyre's arm for a heartbeat longer than usual, reassurance, before she left the room too. A small weight lifted from Feyre's shoulder. She could breathe better. Only a little but it worked. She lifted her skirt, the mountains of tulle rustling on the bright marble floor as Feyre stalked over to the window, looking down at the venue. Guests began arriving. Some took their seats already, others held conversation. Every guest was one of Tamlin’s friends or business partners, Feyre knew no one, or only in passing. Tears welled in her eyes when she thought of the one seat that would stay vacant. You're making a mistake, Rhys threw at her the evening before. Such a big mistake that he wouldn't come, wouldn't watch her make that mistake. Feyre leaned her head against the cool glass, focused on not letting the tears fall. She wasn't making a mistake. She couldn't make a mistake because if that was a mistake, what did she do the last three years? Wasting time and energy in a relationship that would lead nowhere, in a man that was…let's not go there, she thought. Another voice whispering, and this is the man you want to marry?

No, it wasn't. She didn't want to marry Tamlin. It didn't matter how often she told herself that she loved him and nothing ever changed, he did. He became impatient, he lost his temper more often than not. Tamlin didn't love her anymore, he loved the idea of her. As much as Feyte still clung at the idea of him. They weren't the people anymore that they were when they met.

A sob wrecked through her, tears smearing her makeup. She wanted Rhys. She needed him. Why wasn't he here? He was always there for her. Did she fuck up that much? Why didn't she insist on Rhys attending?

The door opened behind her and she quickly stood straight, wiping tears away. "Five more minutes!" she said, trying to sound normal. "I'm almost done."

They didn't answer, but the door clicked shut, followed by footsteps inside the room. Anger bubbled up inside her, was five minutes too much to ask? She whirled around, ready to order them to leave her alone, but she was met with a pair of deep blue eyes, almost violet, that she knew better than anything else. Rhys. "What are you doing here?" she asked, any bite leaving her voice.

Rhys shrugged, sliding his hands on the pockets of his pants. "I wanted to apologize," he told her, his voice rough. Almost as if he had screamed. Feyre pushed that thought away, what nonsense. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like this, I'm sorry. If– If you still want me here, I'll stay. For you." he let his gaze wander from her skirt to her face, "Although I'm not so sure you even want to do this anymore." he smirked, as usual trying to smother the tension with humor, although it seemed forced.

Feyre stepped forward, sitting down on the green velvet chaise lounge. "You're right." Feyre said quietly, looking down at her shoes. She didn't look up when Rhys moved, didn't look up when the lock clicked, followed by a rustle, didn't look up when the chaise lounge dipped beside her under Rhys's weight, until he gripped her chin softly and tilted her head up. He held a white cloth for makeup removal and swiped it over her face. Feyre looked at the mascara stains, she must look crazy.

"Tell me one thing, Feyre darling," he said quietly, her heart fluttering at the nickname. "Do you want to marry Tamlin?"

Feyre looked him in the eye and for the first time she admitted the truth, to herself and Rhys, "No."

He threw the cloth to the side and said, "Get out of the dress then, we're going. Where are your clothes?"

Confused, she grabbed his hand when he stood up, "What? I can't just leave!"

"Yes, you can." he said, squeezing her hand. "You don't want to marry him. You don't have to. You don't owe him anything." Rhys took Feyre's face in her hands. "You would have gone through with this, I know you. But you don't have to. Let me be your voice of reason right now and get you out of here."

Feyre nodded, accepting Rhys's hand to help her up. She pointed to her set of clothes that Alis had already folded and put in a bag to take back to the manor. When he brought them over, she said, "You need to help me get out of this monstrosity."

Rhys huffed, keeping back his own comments about the dress and began to work on the corset. When it finally loosened, Feyre could breathe again. It didn't feel as if she was holding her breath anymore.

Rhys turned around and retrieved her sneakers when she shrugged the gown off, frowning as she kicked it to the side and pulled on her clothes. Gray sweatpants and a shirt from the college Rhys and her had attended.

Rhys came back, kneeling before her and holding her shoe, "Slip in."

"I am perfectly able to put shoes on myself, you know?"

Rhys rolled his eyes but smiled, "I know you're allergic to any help but please, let me help you this one time."

Feyre did as she asked, putting her hands on his shoulders for balance, but still said softly, "You're already helping enough, Rhys."

He went still for only a heartbeat, she wouldn't have realized if she didn't know him, before he tied her shoes and helped her into the other.

When they were done, she put the wedding dress on a hanger and quickly followed Rhys outside. Taking a left, Rhys pulled her back, pointing to the right where another staircase was. This must have been the staircase he had taken when he looked for her. They sneaked downstairs, when Feyre stopped, "I forgot my phone and my wallet!"

Rhys didn't turn around, didn't make a sound when he slid his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket and held up these two things.

"You're an angel," she whispered at him, earning one of his dazzling smiles.

It was a quick way until they reached the last floor, it was trickier to get out without being seen but they managed until they reached the foyer. The closer they got to the front door, the lighter Feyre felt. She looked back once, when she was so close to the doors that she could touch them, and locked eyes with Ianthe. Her pupils went wide as she looked between Rhys and Feyre, their interlocked hands. Her mouth opened, but Feyre already bolted down out of the with Rhys in tow, so that when Ianthe yelled "Tamlin!" it sounded far away, the sound getting more distant with every second.

"I'm parked down the road," Rhys said, tightening his grip on Feyres hand. They ran past other parked cars, their steps echoing on the street. There was a commotion behind them, slowly getting loud. "Don't look," Rhys told her when she was about to look over her shoulder.

"How far?" she asked out of breath, almost tripping over a pebble.

"Just right around the corner-" They turned, and Feyre took sight of the familiar black car. She almost sobbed out of relief, the sight feeling like home. Everything about Rhys felt like home, it always had, more than anything. Even running away from her own wedding felt natural with Rhys.

They let go of each other's hands as Rhys ran to the driver's side and Feyre to the passengers side, throwing themselves into the seat. As Rhys started the car and Feyre put the seatbelt on, she dared a look behind her. Tamlin just rounded the corner, looking angry. "Shit. Drive! Drive!" she ordered Rhys.

"I'm at it!" he replied and only when they left the parking spot, Feyre looked forward again. When they left the city altogether, she let herself relax. They didn't talk for a while until Rhys missed the exit to Feyre's apartment. She pointed it out but Rhys replied, "That's the first place he'll look for you. You're staying with me until he calms down."

Feyre watched him, the tension in his jaw as spoke. She didn't reply, fishing her phone out of his inner pocket and sent Tamlin a message. Maybe it was a shit way to break up like this but she was so thoroughly exhausted that she couldn't face him. He'd be mad, furious.

Rhysand was right when he told her that she was making a grave mistake. She knew when she stood in her suite just minutes ago but she realized when she saw Tamlin, running after them. She didn't feel anything. Not anymore.

Feyre stifled a yawn from the previous sleepless night as she looked out of the window. She didn't drive this street for a while but it's still as familiar as if she drove by here yesterday. It wasn't far anymore, they'd soon reach Rhys's townhouse. Rhys didn't talk, neither did she, but their silence wasn't uncomfortable. She was glad that he was there.

If the sight of Rhys's car was like a slap to her, the townhouse was like a punch. Home. A home she had missed for so long but she had ignored the homesickness, pushed it away. A foreign feeling to her that she couldn't place back then until now.

Feyre followed Rhys up the stairs to the front door, stopping in the foyer. He opened his mouth, when a rumbling came from the kitchen and another male voice sounded, "Already home, Rhysie? Did she kick your ass?"

Feyre stiffened, turning to Cassian, who just walked out of the door. He stopped in his tracks, staring at her, holding a half eaten muffin in his hands. Her nails buried in the skin of her palms as she tried to hold back the tears looking at her friend, who she had cut contact with step by step. Because of Tamlin. So many emotions were rumbling, thrashing, inside her that she couldn't place a specific one, except love.she loved her friends but she didn't know what to say, sure that they would hate her.

"What are you doing there?" a bright voice cut the tension like a ray of sunshine after a storm. This time Feyre couldn't suppress the tears welling in her eyes as Mor stepped out, her eyes going wide at the sight of Feyre. "You're home." she whispered and Feyre had the distinct feeling she didn't talk to Rhys. Her friend didn't even try to hold back her tears as she stormed forward, pulling Feyre into a hug. Feyre tightened her arms around Mor, burying her face in her shoulder as tears now fell.

"I'm sorry," she told her. Told them all. But it wasn't enough. Sorry didn't even begin to describe what Feyre felt. Another pair of strong arms enveloped them. Cassian.

"We know," he told Feyre.

"We're sorry, too," Mor sobbed.

Feyre shook her head. They shouldn't feel sorry. It was herself who pushed them all away, but she couldn't put it in words. Mor moved one hand away, but still gripped Feyre with another, and the next thing she knew was Rhys's scent enveloping him as his arms banded around them too.

"Let the girl take a breath," another familiar voice broke the moment. They all turned, looking at Amren.

"Hey," Feyre's voice cracked.

Amren’s expression didn't change but her gray eyes were twinkling, "Welcome back, girl." she nodded once and Feyre smiled, wiping her tears away.

"I'll show Feyre to her room!" Mor said, taking Feyre's hand. "You probably want to get rid of all the hair pins in your hair."

Feyre laughed, exhausted, and nodded. Mor led her into a bright room, decorated in ivory, cream and sage colors. She pointed to the chair at the dressing table then stood behind the chair. She started taking the pins out. Feyre sometimes caught her frowning in the mirror but she didn't say anything about it or the wedding or Tamlin, she told Feyre what the family was up to. Mor's apartment was getting renovated, so she stayed with Rhys in the meantime. Cassian's gym was going well, Azriel was visiting his mother, Amren was her usual grumpy self.

No one left the whole day, they all stayed until after dinner, catching up. It was weird but at the same time so familiar that Feyre sometimes could only watch their banter, soaking up all the familiarity that she could until they parted ways and Mor went to bed after giving Feyre a set of clothes for the night.

Now Feyre sat in her room, brushing her after-shower hair when there was a knock on her door. "Come in!" she called, expecting Mor who forgot something but it was Rhys opening the door.

He held up her wallet, "I just found that this was still in my jacket." he said, putting it down on her night stand. Feyre smiled at him in thanks, putting the hairbrush down. "How are you?"

Feyre sighed, patting the spot beside her for Rhys. He plopped on the bed, waiting for her answer, "Exhausted." she answered truthfully. "Relieved."

Rhys nodded, "It was a very long day."

"You tell me," she bumped her shoulder with his. "It feels like this morning is a lifetime away."

He smiled, bumping her shoulder in response. They went quiet for a moment until Rhys seemed to get nervous.

"What?"

He sighed, dragging his hands through his hair. "I–" she cleared his throat, "What changed your mind? When we talked yesterday, you were so sure. You were dead set on marrying Tamlin. What changed your mind?"

She shrugged, avoiding locking eyes with him. "You weren't there."

"You changed your mind because I wasn't there?" Feyre nodded. "But that doesn't change anything, yesterday you told me you love him and today-" today you don't.

Her head hurt. She was tired. "What do you want me to tell you, Rhys? I changed my mind."

"But you would have married him if I hadn't come," he said. Not a question, a fact. He was right, she would have. Feyre shrugged. "I want you to tell me the truth."

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know, Rhys." She replied, playing with the hem of her shirt.

Rhys stopped her hand, his own resting over her's, "I want to know, that's why I asked."

Feyre slowly turned her hands, intertwining their fingers. Rhys didn't move, he let her do it. He wanted this.

"I realized," she looked at him, they looked eyes and she took a deep breath. "I realized that it should have been you. It should have been you all along, Rhys, and I was a coward because I didn't want to ruin what we had. I already lost everything, I lost my family. I didn't want to lose you, either. It should have been you."

Feysand Taglist:

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @edgyellie @starfall-spirit @rhysiedarling @corcracrow @sydney-fae25 @tothestarsandwhateverend @aayo-whatt @dreamlandreader

[isittherightword]

Leaving for me wasn't a simple thing. I truly felt I was nothing outside of my identity as a doctor and a surgeon. I didn't have anything else- I had literally been on the path to being a physician since highschool when I was admitted to a guaranteed medical school program. I firmly believe no one under the age of 25 should ever decide to be a doctor. You don't know who you are and what you want and what it really means to sacrifice all of your youth. And if you decide young, by the time you realize you've committed to something that would erase your youth and eject you on the other side, weary, wrinkled, lonely, and empty save for a scalpel in hand cutting and sewing peoples organs, you'll have come to far and find it difficult to walk away. For me, walking away was a form of dying. Part of me died when I left Boston, or was killed in the struggle of the exorcism.

Since then I've lived in a bit of a state of purgatory, somewhere between life and spiritual death. On a psycho-spiritual quest to recover the pieces of my shattered soul.

By the time I left I had little will to carry on. I had lost everything. Many of my friends abandoned me because the violence of my deprogramming was a threat to the system of belief they had invested so much in. I found myself prey to a variety of vultures who circled my exposed and weakened flesh just to take a bite out of it to make themselves feel better. I came to California broken in a way that not a lot of people live through. I know this because any time I hear about a doctor committing suicide, I shrug, and think, wryly, good for them. The alternative of simply dying is to spiritually die and spend years searching for shards my glass heart splintered in every corner, knowing that my soul will never truly be the same after the rupture. To me, in many ways, dying sounds simpler. Why not reset and just start again, or fade into nothing? Why not rupture your body to mirror the rupture of your soul? It's definitive. It's simple.

Rebuilding for me has been complicated and taken a lot of effort and energy. I voraciously read books on toxic shame, inner child healing, narcissistic abuse, mothers who can't love. I spent a lot of time near the ocean, burned a lot of sage, lit candles, pulled tarot cards, made offerings. I've danced, screamed, sang, painted, planted, watered, fertilized, harvested, drove, miles and miles and miles. At some point in the journey, someone told me about Kintsugi- the Japanese pottery technique of resealing shattered pottery with precious gold. I learned there could be beauty in gathering the shards of my soul and sealing them back together, piece by piece.

In the back of my mind though, for a long time, I waited for a strong wind to blow me over the edge. The work is exhausting, painful, and truly, endless. Healing is a spiral that goes around and around and around. You're never really done. I always knew that I wouldn't be able to sustain another rupture like I did in 2018, when I was left body burned, flesh torn, shivering, naked and afraid on the shores of Northern California. I waited for a strong wind to blow, knock me over, break me, and force me to face starting again or giving up, knowing what my answer would be. "Ask me again, universe" I secretly begged. This time maybe I would allow the waves to pull me under.

The thing is the wind came, and the waves came. But what I rebuilt, as small as it was, was sturdier than the Tower of Babel that came before it. that tower had been astounding and illustrious, but devoid of solid foundation. I found myself, however small, building something with deeper roots and a real foundation, anchoring into what really is solid ground. I did the work, and in that way it was intentional, but I always was skeptical of that process. "Is this really working or will it all turn to ash in my hands like the last time?" I write this in past tense, but this is and was my present until recently. The truth is, building my internal system to be strong outside of what people saw me as, as opposed to fully defining myself and my worth through my accomplishments and through the eyes of my parents, who I never was and never will be enough for.

It's 11:11 💜 angels as always, reminding me they are with me.

After my big wedding, during which my darling dog went blind in her right eye, my maid of honor behaved in a truly unhinged manner, I got covid, and my mother, and more importantly, my father, disappointed me for the last time-- I confessed to my husband about my secret waiting for a strong wind to blow me into oblivion. I confessed because, at last, I realized I had built enough that even if the wind came, there was enough there to sustain me. Even if it it ripped open my windows and tore down my walls, the foundation would still stand I would be able to rebuild. Despite all the bullshit I still had a beautiful, perfect, incredible day where I laughed and loved and felt surrounded by love and experienced real joy. You can see it in the photos. It was, truly, the happiest day of my life.

It took a while to wade through the post wedding depression, nevertheless. Depression is unrelenting and unfair. It will leave for months, even years at a time, but then strike me down with the force of a high speed train. I burst again, but each time into less and less pieces. That's where my hope comes from. I've been shattered and sealed in gold and titanium, infinite cracks and infinite seals. Soon perhaps I won't shatter when the storms come. But even if I do, I know my shards can always be sealed back together and I'll never again start from nothing.

[call-sign-shark]

Leeeeee 🤭 Sorry that I'm only getting back to you now, barmaid work, paperwork and prepping my three-month trip got all my energy but here we go! Thank you for your wonderful comment, the gif made me roll on the floor.

These two are really soft with each other and that's something I really love in their relationship. I mean, they are two violent monsters but they just melt around each other, and of course our girl couldn't help but take a bite of him (more gently than she does in The Woods Whisper though aha). Thank you so much for picking up on the description of her scream because it was surprisingly the part I struggled the most. I really managed to convey the supernatural and banshee-like sound she makes but that was harder and still now I'm not satisfied with it. In my mind, she sounds like this when she yells (4:05)

Concerning her powers I intentionally left a lot of mystery around them but they will be explained more in future chapters. The decision of her abilities harming the baby came from two things a. this is a "blood manipulation" power so logically, it has a direct impact on it. b. Her powers are huge and I didn't want to use it as a magical trick to solve every problem. Realistically, the Shelby wouldn't have any more enemies or trouble with her around and I didn't want that. It's not a Deus Ex Machina! I think I said it once that what she can do is more like a secondary plot than anything. But with or without it, the direct murder attempt of Arthur is going to drive her mad with rage, and she doesn't need her powers to be highly dangerous.

I'm delighted you enjoyed the scene with Luca because I had so much fun writing it -- even though I was afraid people would find the whole dance boring since it's a lot of description. I teased the tell of the albino ferret a while ago and I couldn't wait for readers to read it in context. 🤭 I like to envision Luca as a different kind of enemy: while capable of violence he's insanely clever and I do think that, as a mob boss, hiding his pain is fitting for him. At the moment he doesn't suspect her to be the cause of his heart condition but, as you said, he is wary.

As for Aurora, please don't thank me!! It was just a mention but I couldn't wait to talk about her. I am glad you liked the metaphor of Aurora being fire-coded because that's the vibes she gives me teehee! Heaven would gladly squeeze the life out of her abusive husband, but she'd rather love seeing Aurora doing it with her own hands. Our girls would surely raise hell together!! Thank you again Lee, you're an angel.

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: When starting the vendetta with the Peaky Blinders, Luca Changretta didn't expect you, Arthur's wife, to be the one meeting him. Now that you're facing him, he's determined to make you understand who leads the dance. It's a man's world after all! || Featuring Luca Changretta x Reader

Words:

TW: alteration of canon events, canonical violence, drug use, slight allusions to sex, canonical misogyny, quick allusions to domestic abuse, witchcraft (canonical since PB flirts with it sometimes), fluff, Arthur is as fucked up as cute, depictions of slaughter and body horror. The last part of this chapter is a flash forward. What happened will be described in the next chapter.

Notes: 6.7k

✞ The mentioned character of Aurora, Luca's wife, belonged to @zablife.

✞ The bold sentence Heaven says comes from Lana Del Rey.

✞ This is chapter 15 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Usually, each chapter can be read as stand-alones but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The dim glow of luxuriant chandeliers cast their orange light over the bar, their warm hue sublimating the rich notes of aged oak from which the counter had been sculpted. Standing alone on a barstool with your crystal gaze fixed on the swirling depths of your glass of red wine, you relished how the liquid gracefully danced and caught the light in a hypnotizing display of crimson elegance. Smooth as silk, its robe was deprived of lees and hugged your throat at each sip. It had been a while since you hadn't drunk such fine alcohol, and this experiment was almost enough to make you forget the curious glances of some noisy clients. As rare as it was to see a woman drinking by herself at the bar without the company of a gentleman due to the prohibited nature of such actions, no one had dared confront you about the matter yet. The waiter had thought of doing so because it didn't feel right to him but one look at the deadly frost of your eyes had been efficient enough for him to swallow his words and mind his own business. Wise decision, you weren't in the mood to be polite. There had been something off in the way you had stared at him, like a wild cat waiting for its prey to come just a little bit closer to pounce on it. He quickly lowered his gaze and went on with wiping down his glass, definitely not taking the risk of causing a scene. Bringing the expensive glass to your plump lips, you froze mid-movement at the sudden feeling of someone's presence behind your back. So, he came. Your mouth slowly curled in a cold, sardonic smirk. Your special guest didn't bother to greet you. Instead, he simply put his fedora hat on the bar counter right where the corner of your eyes you could see it.

"Isn't it the lady who should play hard to get?" You stated before drowning your sarcasm with a gulp of wine, its complex and refined taste displaying all its flavors on your tongue. So far, it has been one of the few places in which the wine was exquisite. And French, of course.

Swiftly slipping between two barstools, the man sat next to you — all his movements, measured and confident, denoted an indescribable elegance.

"So?" A collected and alluring voice inquired, wasting no time in futile courtesy nor in answering your taunt. He would have been surprised if his men hadn't warned him that you were the kind of woman to never be at a loss for words. Just like the two other harpies of the Shelby clan though.

"So, you spare my husband." You finished your glass and put it back on the wooden counter with a movement that translated both your firmness and determination. If there was one thing he had learned throughout his gangster life it was to pay attention to details. Since the very beginning of his criminal activities, Luca always focused on the way someone moved, especially because body language often said much more about people than words themselves. Contrary to prose, the body never lied, and concerning yours the signals were rather clear: you wouldn't cave in. "Oh, and you also spare Finn but it stands to reason. He's just a kid after all." Your request, spoken with a measured yet Artic calmness, snatched an amused snort from the threatening man. How did you dare bargain with him about who would die and who would live while your place wasn't in men's business? Luca slightly shook his head, disconcerted by the fact that the random wife of an enemy could behave so insolently with him while he could easily end her life with the gun he was hiding under his four-digit price jacket.

"In return for what?" His sharp eyes fixed intently on your dainty frame as he spoke. His expression, usually veiled in stoic composure, betrayed a keen attentiveness that mirrored his interest. Making himself comfortable on the barstool, he withdrew a matchbox from his pocket, its metallic surface catching the muted light. With languid grace, he extracted a match, the small stick cradled between his fingers, and brought it to his lips.

"Tommy Shelby." Your voice resounded like a chilling death knell when you pronounced these syllables nonchalantly as if selling one of your in-laws was nothing but one of the many formalities to retrieve your peaceful life. Such apathy was a bit chilling he reckoned. A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he held the match delicately between his teeth. After a while, you eventually condescended to look at the man, your iris meeting the splendid green of his. The same green eyes that squinted a little bit now that they had a clear sight of your doll face, whose cold beauty made him wonder what the hell such a delicate thing like you was doing here, involving herself in the middle of intricating gang wars.

"Well, interesting." He mused, a part of him genuinely excited at the thought of butchering Tommy, the other still intrigued by you and how you contrasted with everything else around. No, how you contrasted with everything he had ever seen in his life. Changretta's features, chiseled and unyielding, remained an inscrutable mask, but beneath the surface, a calculated mind sought to see right through you. His posture exuded a quiet confidence despite your unsettling aura and ghostly appearance, a testament to the years of navigating the treacherous underworld of crimes.

"And why should I trust you?" He asked, going on with his observation of every tiny detail of your face. To be honest, Luca didn't imagine you like this. All he had been told about you was that you were the French harlot Arthur Shelby had married, some kind of bratty young girl who came from nowhere. At first, he was convinced that you would be nothing but boring at worst, or entertaining in your way of begging for your husband's life at best but you were none of these. Now that he was sitting next to you at the bar, discussing as if he hadn't murdered one of the most important people in your life, he found himself enthralled by the pure snow-white color of your long hair. More than your unusual hair color, what had surprised him the most was how your coldness cut with the softness of your physical traits. You felt like a walking paradox to him, your appearance conveying a message at the antithesis of what you truly were.

"Because it's all in my interest to see him dead and cold." You replied with a little shrug. Admittedly, you didn't imagine him like this. Quite the contrary, your mind had created the picture of a rat-faced gangster marked with ugly scars and vicious black eyes by dint of hearing how Arthur talked about him. Yet, here you were, facing a rather attractive gentleman with such atypical traits and a charismatic aura that your eternal coldness was slightly shaken. Men of these kinds were always the most dangerous, you thought with full knowledge of the facts. Luca Changretta was something: as slim as Arthur yet standing taller, his face was adorned with a seductive charm and an aquiline nose which rendered his features even more unique.

"Principessa" He started, sneering. Luca pushed the match to the other corner of his mouth with his tongue one last time before his sly fingers grabbed it to put it in the nearest ashtray. Then, his hand reached for the whisky glass the waiter had just put in front of him, "Allow me to doubt that. You are a Shelby, and I've heard your clan is tightly knitted together. Don't think of me fool enough to believe that a Shelby would want to kill another one." Luca concluded his accusation with a little head tilt as he swallowed his whisky in one go. A small grunt of pleasure escaped from his mouth at the pleasant burn the alcohol left in his trail.

"The only reason I bear the name Shelby is for my husband, not for anyone else. If you aren't aware of it may I suggest that your informants only did half of the job otherwise you should have known that Thomas had been nothing but a bane to my existence from the first day we met."

"A bane? That's not a trivial world to use when talking about your brother-in-law." Changretta's fingers, adorned with sleek rings, tapped against the wooden counter as a clear manifestation of his suspicions.

"Well, he had tried to strangle me, then blamed me for his son's abduction, and also for his brother's death and now he is actively seeking to ruin my marriage. I think "bane" is an appropriate way to call him. Now," You said with a little wave of the hand, "if my offer doesn't stir your interest I'd rather leave." When you shifted your body to stand up, Luca's immense hand gently rested on yours to invite you to sit back. The striking temperature difference between his warm flesh and the iciness of your skin gave him sudden goosebumps. Once you did sit back, his unimpressed mask cracked and moved on to an amused and fascinated smile that danced on his thin lips. It was a heavily murderous speech for such a little thing. If it wasn't for the frost you were made of, you would have made him think of his own more fire-coded wife.

"Let me tell you something. My mother was a very patient woman you know?" He said out of the blue with a softer voice, "I've never heard her raise her voice during all my childhood except once. That was one of the many reasons she was a teacher every kid loved. When she did yell at me I was a kid and I just saw a magnificent creature in my nonna's garden. It was an albino ferret, the most beautiful animal I've ever encountered. Straight out of a fairy tale with fur as pure as freshly fallen snow and little beady eyes as red as precious rubies. Usually, wild animals are skippish but that little fella didn't move away when I approached it. It seemed so quiet and docile that I decided to pet it. And do you know what the ferret did?" Luca leaned over you at his question, his face closer to yours and his smirk stretching in an evil grin, "It bit me. That fucking vermin sunk its sharp teeth into my skin and gave me one nasty bite. I still have the scar carved deep in my flesh up to this day. A bite scar among the gunshots and stab wounds." He paused for a while, his green eyes momentarily dropping to your swollen lips and lingering on the white pearly fangs he could glimpse at when you "tsk" at him. The air suddenly crackled with a palpable tension that thickened with every second flying by. Each of his silences loudly echoed the rising intensity of the moment one of you would snap at the other. But it never happened, and the only thing Luca did was grin even more, his squinted eyes meeting yours again. "Should have known it though, this fucking sausage rat had a twisted something in its red eyes. The same vile and twisted something as you, Amore."

His words, coated with honey but cutting like razor blades, made the corner of your plum lips subtlety curl in a dangerous but brief smirk too at the realization that all the rumors surrounding the Italian were true: he was devilishly clever. Maybe that was why you didn't manage to completely hate him despite his horrible actions. While your dainty body, your small size, and the far-too-seraphic complexions of your face often misled people about the brutality that was coursing through your cursed veins and the sickening void of your coal-black pupils, Luca didn't fall for any of them. Not even the glittery makeup and your big round eyes could make him ignore the creepy murmurs of the underlying Devil living in you. After a brief and uncomfortable silence that seemed to last one awful eternity, you finally parted your lips.

"Let me tell you something too," Your voice was a gentle melody, "Arthur and John should have killed your mother." Each word flowed like a soft breeze, carrying a subtle allure that only enhanced the cruelty of their meaning. Your lack of consideration for potentially hurting his feelings had taken him aback. " But they decided to spare her despite Little King Shelby's ruthless order. They genuinely wanted to do it out of sheer compassion" You pursed your lips and backed up from Luca, rolling your eyes. "Fuckin' idiots, they should have killed her when they had the chance." The mobster quickly moistened his lips, the faint surprised expression on his face vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

"His ruthlessness was right." He agreed, "They should have." Luca concluded, yet elaborating an arrangement with you didn’t seem to be his top priority suddenly. The mobster already knew he would grant you your wishes, the idea of having direct access to Tommy was too alluring to resist after all. What he wanted at his precise moment was… Different.   "You know, I don't fear being bitten anymore — the danger is a deliciously wicked part of the job I learned to accept and love. Considering this, Mrs, Shelby" He let his sentence hanged as he offered you the palm of his hand, long and bony fingers waiting for yours. "May I ask for a dance?" His eyes sparkled with an amusement that hinted at a hidden game, a dance of power between you and him. The seductive charm with which he invited you blurred the lines between rivalry and fascination.

"Do we have a deal?" You inquired with one brow raised, just to make sure he had taken notes of your terms.

"A deal for a dance." He slightly wiggled the fingers of his inviting hand. "Plus, you're already dancing with me in your own way."

A discreet and longer inhale escaped from your nostrils as you weighed the pros and cons but still you slipped your hand into his, which enveloped your skin with a tender strength. A little dance couldn't hurt anyone, you thought. Without further ado, Luca led the way to the dance floor as you both snaked in and out through the crowd until you reached a more spacious corner. It was the mafioso who initiated the dance. First, his grip strengthened around you: not to the extent of hurting you of course but definitely enough to make you understand that you were trapped. Then, his arm wrapped around your waist firmly like a snake. "Closer," He instructed and you obliged, taking a step toward him and placing your free upon his shoulder. After he set the rhythm, you started to move to the slow melody the orchestra was playing across the room. As the haunting music enveloped you, you moved in synchronized steps, your bodies entwined in a waltz that displayed outside tenderness while your eyes held a sharp glint of adversaries locked in an unspoken battle.

Come now, dance with me as the song plays.

With each twirl and turn, the odd and gripping tension you shared thickened, just like an intricate tango of conflicting emotions. As soft as the dance had started, it was gradually turning into a visceral yet elegant battlefield where intimidation and seduction engaged in a delicate but fierce fight.

Down down, dance with me stuck on replay.

Your heart leaped in your tight ribcage at a sudden dip, your hair hanging down like a silver cascade, and your gaze set on the golden sculpted ceiling that quickly flashed in front of your eyes before disappearing, replaced by Luca's intense green eyes again.

Down down, dance with me stuck on replay.

"Don't be shy Amore," He cooed with a charming wink before pulling you even closer to him until your body collided with his. You stopped breathing for a short moment, shutting your eyes when you realized that your face was almost nuzzled in the crook of his neck. In that fleeting moment, you relinquished a fraction of your resistance, swept away by the remote yet familiar feeling of letting someone guide you without any need to think— or maybe that was the sweet fragrance of his cologne which pleasantly tingled your nostrils that woke up memories anchored deep within your mind. From the way he moved to how he behaved, from the luxurious place to the languid melody of the piano, everything was bringing you years ago, back in the comforting arms of your first fiance.

And you hated how pleasant it felt. You viscerally hated it.

Both the song's tempo and Luca's steps fastened as he noticed the subtle change in your facial expression, slowly turning your graceful dance into a dizzying and confusing round. His piercing gaze bore into your soul, daring it to reveal its vulnerability. The room seemed to spin around you and yet, you clenched your jaw and forced yourself to maintain an unmoved facade. No. You wouldn't sink into melancholia. Gathering all your willpower, you chased away the panic that crept within you and felt a rush of anger toward Luca for daring to reopen an old wound you tried to heal every day of your life since you left France. And with anger came the end of your self-control.

To hell with Tommy's plan, you could put an end to this exhausting vendetta yourself by killing the infamous Luca Changretta right here, right now.

Guided by your murderous nature, you started to focus on his heartbeat as soon as you regained control of the dance, forcing him to slow down the pace. In a thorough study of his pulse, you could clearly hear the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat resounding in his chest, and even counted how many times it beat in one minute. And the more you listened to it, the more music faded away in the background.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Killing him would be a piece of cake considering the horrific magic that was coursing through your veins, the magic of blood and flesh. All you would have to do was accelerate his pulse until it became too much for his body to bear. In a minute, Luca would drop to the ground, limp and dead. No blood, no fight, just the sudden and inevitable consequences of a heart attack. Quite different from the gruesome and slow death you had wished to inflict upon Tommy the day he had crossed over the line with you.

"You're a great dancer, Miss Shelby." The mobster stated, having no choice but to follow your slower pace. Now you were the one leading the dance, "Did your husband teach you? I must admit that I have all the trouble of the world imagining Arthur Shelby being good at waltzing." He had already trouble imagining how the most rabid of these Gypsy bastards could have pulled you, to be honest. His tastes regarding women might not encompass you but, God, he thought that your place wasn't beside a man like Arthur Shelby since you could easily be a trophy wife for a classy and far more powerful criminal. Or some blue blood, but these were the same except the latter legally robbed people.

"Arthur is far better at dancing than what he seems but it wasn't him who taught me." Your reply was sharper than intended.

Another dip, smoother this time.

"Another man?"

"Yes."

"So you've been married before." It wasn't a question, it was a statement for the mafioso had easily decypher your micro-expressions despite your best efforts to hide them.

"Engaged. We didn't make it to the actual wedding."

Kill him. Kill him now.

The fingers that were resting on his shoulder dug deeper into his jacket as you channeled the gift your mother had passed you the day of your birth. It could have gone unnoticed if you hadn't paid attention but Luca's eyebrows slightly frowned, not understanding why his heart had started racing like that all of sudden.

"That's a shame. And how does one lose a woman like you? If I had been him I would have rather locked you in the house than let you flee." Luca grinned, his charming voice steady but the way he clenched his jaw betrayed the building pain he was feeling in his chest. Men were all the same: too much ego to show that they were in distress.

"Well, that's how he lost a woman like me." No matter the exact nature of the impact your words had on him it did trigger something within his soul. On top of a literal ache in his heart, his wedding ring became suddenly heavier. In the dance's rhythmic embrace, your witchcraft went on with poisoning Luca's very core. Yet, as the enchantment unfolded, an unforeseen consequence took hold. The more you delved into your mystical powers, the more the mobster's pain echoed within your own body in an unexpected symbiosis. Except that it wasn't in the heart you suffered, but in the belly.

The baby.

You backed up from Luca with a movement so quick it looked like you had touched hot-red metal, hence putting an abrupt end to the dance. A discreet growl fell from the man's lips for when the physical contact broke his heart resumed to a normal pace and the pain mysteriously disappeared. As well as yours.

"Enough fun for tonight." You said with hast, and Luca hadn't the quick thinking to keep you from doing so — the odd and unpredictable behavior of his heart was too concerning for him to carry on with this odd meeting.

"Hm. Yeah, don't forget about our deal." He replied, smoothing the fold of his tailored suit before slowly and discreetly pressing the left side of his chest with the palm of his hand.

" And don't forget to send my regards to your wife Aurora, who seems to be exactly a woman like me." You spat one last taunt with the most polite smile you could make before turning your heels and leaving this damn room.

What the hell had just happened?

According to Tommy, everything went perfectly. Satisfied with the outcome of your mission — and genuinely surprised you hadn't fucked up everything by your rebellious attitude or just for the sheer satisfaction of getting under his skin —, the lead pack dog of the Peaky Blinders went on with the Vendetta. Actually, the one who fucked up the whole plan hadn't been you, but rather Tommy himself following the failure of his surprise attack against Luca. He might have killed a few Italians in the process, but his initial target was still alive and in very good health conditions. A flash of anger and frustration coursed through your body when he told the family about it: here you were back to the start, with Luca not willing to give you a second chance and being more enraged than he already was when he came to England. None of it would have happened if you had listened to your instincts and killed him yourself. Served you right for trusting Tommy's plan for once. And for being reluctant to use the monstrous magic nature gave you. But there had also been... Something else. That weird and unplanned pain in your belly when you had used your magic. With all of this, the cherry on the top was probably Tommy's decision to carry on with today's boxing fight despite it being an obviously awful idea but of course, no one listened to you. Why would they? Tommy always knew better. Tommy always won. Tommy this. Tommy that.

You sighed loudly as you walked through the empty corridor, the cacophony of the crowd turning into a hushed noise when you reached the huge squared mirror that was hanging from the wall. There were so many people gathered in the building that accessing the bathroom would have taken both your precious time and your thin tolerance to social events. That was why you decided to look for a mirror or a window further away to add a few late touches to your makeup as well as to rearrange your hair. You had just finished putting another layer of mascara on your Bambi lashes and grabbed your lip gloss when a gravelly and familiar voice resounded in the hallway.

“I went looking for you.” The voice made you instantly relax, its baritone lilt holding the unique power of blowing your troubles away, both the past and the present ones. With one small yet graceful spin, you turned around to meet Arthur’s slim silhouette that was standing in the doorway. His sharp face, usually displaying a strict look, soon turned soft at the sight of you about to apply gloss on your tantalizing lips, “I thought you’d be in here.”

"And you thought right." You replied with an enamored smile. Arthur was quite delighted by the boxing fight, so there was no need to impede his joy with your concerns. Moreover, he was surely the only thing that kept you anchored during this confusing and stressful period.

The gangster approached you with slow steps and his steel blue eyes shone brighter the more he closed the distance between you and him. “I knew it, always seeking quiet places before a party to doll you up and take a deep breath...” He concluded, visibly proud to display his infinite knowledge about his beloved wife, which made you melt. Then, he stopped right in front of you, "Got a lil' something for me angel." Arthur didn't leave you the time to wonder what it was all about for one of his large hands slipped from behind his back and pulled a white Azalea from it, “Look what I’ve found. Almost as beautiful as you, eh?”  The way his face enlightened with the happiest and most genuine smile ever was something you never got bored of. Quite the contrary, it breathed life back into you each time. The ice of your eyes melted at such an endearing gift, turning your frozen traits into a child-like expression with your plump lips forming a silent ‘o’.

“For me? Really? Arthur, you shouldn't have!” You said with an excited but still quieter voice than his booming one. You couldn't believe he found the time to look for you in the middle of tonight's chaos.

"I wanted you to keep a little something with you in case you start panicking eh." He purred, low and gruff voice making his chest rumble. "Are you sure ya don't want me to stay with you?" guard dog job for his little brother. You preyed the flower from his rough fingers delicately, actively trying not to break its fragile petals, and slipped it in your long silvery mane under your Arthur's tender gaze — he couldn’t help but smirk, enthralled by your beauty just like the first time he had met you, three years ago.

"We already talked about it. Go have fun alright? I'll stay with the women. Moreover, I know Tommy will ask you to stay near him and I'd rather avoid your boring brother, who can't crack a fucking smile for the life of his." You lift yourself on your tip toes to press a kiss on Arthur's jaw. His eyes half-closed at the silky sensation of your lips against his face.

"A very clever move that is. D'ya like the flower? The florist helped me, bet she took pity on me 'cos I looked very lost but she just made me even more confused with all the info she was dumping ay."

A sincere chuckle escaped from your throat at the thought of the lanky and rude gangster standing in the middle of a flower shop with a confused look on his face. Yup, it definitely sounded like something Arthur would do. “So how did you choose the Azalea?” You pondered with innocent curiosity.

“Well, I don't know jackshit that flower language stuff. I only know roses and you hate ‘em.” He admitted with a smile, cupping your face with his two hands to lay a peck on your nose.  As trivial as this detail was he still remembered it and the mix of attention paired with the significance behind your loathing for roses made you swell with love for him. It came even more surprising considering that you only told him about your dislike for roses once during one of the nightly walks you took around the church days after your first encounter.  "So I just picked the one that made me think about ya the most, love." He admitted, his hands leaving your face to grip you by the hips bluntly as he peppered you with kisses. Another chuckle fell from your mouth at the tickle of his mustache against your skin.

"No, no, you'll ruin my makeup!" You playfully exclaimed. Trying to flee from his mouth, you tilted your head to the side and gave his stubbled cheek a gentle bite.

“Hey! I bring ye a flower and you thank me with a bite? Ye feral little thing!”

You gave him a second one without waiting for him to finish his sentence, "You're the one to blame. You’re so cute I just want to nibble you.” You replied, completely obliterating the remote noise as well as all the concerns you have been mulling over these past few days. Instead of anxiety, you were now possessed by joy and cuteness aggression, “I swear you look stupidly handsome.” You added with a pout, the target of your small bites shifting from his cheek to his sharp jaw. Arthur hummed, his lips sewn shut in a peaceful smile — he didn't even bother to flee from your teeth, "Alright, go find Tommy before I tear your suit apart."

"Wouldn't mind that, little one." His voice became raspier with anticipation. It seemed like your suggestion had already planted the seed of desire in his mind, for he already started pawing at your body. Nevertheless, your hands caught his wrists to keep him from doing so.

"No, no, no. My makeup is perfect and my dress too expensive for you to ruin it now." You reminded him with a soft laugh.

"Fuck me." The gangster complained but still obliged, keeping his hands to himself. However, the light mood was soon eroded by the question he didn't dare to ask you earlier. Caught in the weight of his demand, his smile dropped a little, "Eeer... Before I leave" He paused, "I wanted to ask you somethin'."

"Hm?"

Arthur let out a long sigh and looked for something inside the pocket of his trousers all the while rambling, "That's a rare occasion tonight. I mean, a good boxing fight with the new Gold lad I coach and an upcoming party that might last all night long y'know. A really great program that is. Exhausting too." His fingers nervously fidgeted with something inside his pocket. His usually relaxed demeanor was replaced by tense shoulders and furrowed brows. Despite his efforts to appear composed, the strain was palpable, lingering in the air as he gathered all his courage. It was after a long hesitation that he finally took a tiny blue vial out and the simple view of it turned your joyful face into deadly ice again.

"Are you serious?" Your voice, a freezing breeze, cut through the air with a stern cadence, "Are you fucking serious, Arthur William Shelby Jr?" Your grip around the small lip gloss you were holding strengthened so much that the skin of your knuckles whitened.

"Hey, that's okay love." Arthur leaned in close. With gentle eyes that mirrored his sincerity, he spoke softly, trying to convey reassurance in each word as your anger simmered. "I didn't take any of it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Nah. Told ya I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice." The gangster lowered his head just like a terrorizing but gentle mutt would do to show his submissiveness, "I wanted to ask if ya allowed me to take some tonight? Ya told me I could if it remained occasional. Wasn't going to take it in your back, I swear." Wrapping yourself in threatening silence, you stood like a tempest in the quiet aftermath, your posture rigid with the echoes of anger. The storm in your eyes gradually subsided, replaced by a contemplative gaze that softened the hard expression of your seraphic face. As the storm clouds of your fury dispersed, a calm determination settled upon you instead. Arthur bit his lips, mustache twitching as he did so, for time seemed suspended as you collected your thoughts and tried to regain control over your fury. You breathed deep and slow while Arthur held his, awaiting your reply and wondering if your reaction would be born from the storm or from the calm eye at its center.

"Give." You said, your melodious and quiet voice breaking the silence, then you snatched the bottle from his hand. Quickly looking to your left and then to your right to make sure no one could interrupt you, you first opened the lipgloss and proceeded to pour the white powder inside your makeup vial. Once this was done, you handed back the empty blue bottle to Arthur and mixed the cocaine with your lipgloss with the help of the small brush, "I have to admit that you're making a great deal of effort. Thank you for asking, I really... Appreciate it." The gangster stood silent and dumbstruck, wondering what the hell you could be doing. "And I did say you could take some snow occasionally." You brought the brush to your lips and carefully applied a great amount of the glistening liquid on your flesh. "So yes, you can take snow tonight... But you'll have to lick it from my lips so that when you kiss me you think I'm God." You smooched your lips together and then smiled, a wicked and tantalizing smirk that sent a sudden wave of fever through his whole being. Arthur swallowed, his gaze fixed upon the enticing curve of your lips. In the stillness of the moment, desire stirred within him, a smoldering ember ignited by the mere sight of you mixed with the sinful words you just spoke. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the subtle movements of your mouth, each gesture a silent invitation that beckoned him closer.

"I already do." He breathed with a low growl, his fervid passion turning his lean body into a shaky mess. With each passing second, the intensity of his longing grew, consuming him in a fiery embrace. His heart pounded in his chest, every fiber of his being yearned to bridge the distance between you, to taste the sweet and spice that lingered on your lips. With no more persuading needed, Arthur grabbed your face rough and let his mouth collide with yours, the kiss as brutal as a car crash. His scorching and rapid breath fanned over your skin as he licked your lips from the right corner to the left, the caress of his warm tongue making you moan against his wet flesh. Caught in the fire of desire — and definitely aroused by his carelessness— your trembling hands found rest upon his back, your nails digging into the expensive fabric of his jacket. An immediate wave of euphoria unfurled in his brain when the cocaine saturated his synapses. As needful moans raised in the corridor, Arthur couldn't tell if that was the drug or you that kickstarted his heart and dilated his pupils, but in any case, he was experiencing the most exquisite high he had ever had.

"Fuck." Arthur grunted with pleasure and gave several other licks until none of your gloss remained, then his tongue forced its way between your lips, not minding whether you had time to catch your breath or not because you were the real drug in the end. His deepest and most maddening addiction. "A fookin" Goddess you are hm."

"Arthur, Tommy's looking for—" Johnny Dog didn't finish his sentence, eyes wide open. " I just interrupted something right?" He finally blurted out, the initial shock of walking into such a steamy scene turning into the most annoying smile ever.

"Yeah, yeah Tommy. Alright." He repeated as he tried to break from the haziness. Arthur grunted, his lips still a few inches away from yours and your erratic breath melting together. Giving him one last peck —far more delicate than what you were doing one minute ago— you mouthed a silent "go" and forced yourself to resist the attraction of the invisible magnet that was inevitably pulling you towards the lanky criminal. "Alright!" Arthur roared when he turned back to you, clasping his hands together and walking to Johnny Dog with a carnivorous grin and dilated pupils. The Lee man slapped the eldest Shelby brother's back and, right before he go, shot you a little wink.

Their voices could still be heard when they walked away.

"Gonna wait a bit longer before getting your dick wet, boy."

"Shut the fuck up you fookin' cunt ay and let's watch the fight. I'm feeling bloodthirsty eh."

Three bodies lay strewn like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms twisted and broken on the blood-flown concrete floor. The once clean backroom had transformed into a nightmare realm of gore and horror that made Tommy's stomach turn upside-down.

"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God — Arthur!"

Amidst the chaos, where the air hung heavy with the acrid and disgusting scent of blood, Tommy's screams echoed far away in the distance as you knelt there, eyes wide open and silent tears streaming down your cheeks, mixed with dark trails of ruined mascara.

"Arthur!"

You let out a muffled whimper, or at least you thought you did as your senses drowned in a deafening symphony of tinnitus, a relentless ringing that echoed in the hollow caverns of your mind. With each pulse of your heart, the sound intensified, threatening to consume the last remnant of sanity you had left. The world around you had seemed to fade into obscurity, your sight blurry and reduced to only one color: red. Vibrant red splattered everywhere, on the walls, and yourself but most of it was on the floor. In fact, the ground itself seemed to writhe beneath the weight of the corpses, as crimson rivers flowed freely, painting the concrete in shades of crimson that gleamed like freshly spilled paint.

"Oh lord please help us, oh Lord, oh Lord..." Polly cried, horrified by the bloodbath as well as by the sight of you clinging to Arthur's limp body. She had already lost one of her nephews and couldn't bear the weight of losing another one. Not her sweet Arthur. Not him, "Heaven!" She called, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you but all you did was scream. A haunting and otherworldly scream which pierced the darkness. A sound so agonizing and inhumane that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of existence. It echoed across the building, carrying with it the weight indescribable of sorrow and despair as your arms tightened your grip around your dying husband.

The tall Italian man twitching on the ground, choking in his own blood, should have been proud of his successful attack on the eldest Shelby brother. And yet, all he could do was stare at you horrified, his eyes reflecting the terror of his soul.

"D— Diàvulu..." He mouthed, as death came like the most wonderful relief, bringing his sinner soul far away from you, for even in Hell he'd feel safer.

Anywhere, as long as you weren't there.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language. gif by the wonderful @alicent-targaryen.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers

[licensedqueerio]

Gareth Emerson Headcanons No One Asked For

So these are just my headcanons, that could totally be out of character, but idk. I wish we had more content with him

Also, some info isn't correct like their ages, but idc. I wrote this super late at night so it's probably unorganized and stuff, but I hope you enjoy

(i also update this whenever I think of something else abt him)

• His full name is Gareth Benjamin Emerson II bc I said so

• that's where Gareth The Great comes from

• he wants the distinction that he's the great one

• he's the middle child

• his sister, Carys is three years older than him and moved out to go to college

• his other sister, Gwyneth is 8

• his parents are bigshot lawyers in Indianapolis so most of the time it's only him and Gwyn at home

• idk I love the idea of older brother Gareth

• (Gareth puts Gwyn in after school programs, which is how he does Hellfire)

• He matches other people's energies. Like the energy someone gives him is the energy he throws back

• Ex: when Jason yelled at him and Gareth yelled back the exact same way

• The man is brutally honest

• Unnecessarily brutal tho

• He can and will insult someone by complete accident

• He's also super aggressive when he plays the drums

• Slamming on his kit and screaming to their newest song

• As one does

• He breaks his sticks ridiculously often

• (He likes to throw them around, especially at Eddie)

• Speaking of Eddie

• They met when they were decently young

• Around middle school

• Gareth was the kid who was effortlessly cool

• Eddie, on the other hand, was trying SO HARD to be cool

• He was going for the whole punk rock thing when he buzzed his head

• He made it his mission to befriend Gareth at any cost

• But Gareth HATED him

• Well, hatred is a strong word. He didn't care for Eddie like Eddie cared for him

• Gareth just wanted to be by his lonesome, as edgy middle schoolers do

• But Eddie is persistent and will not leave this boy alone

• It doesn't matter that Gareth is two years younger than him

• He wants Gareth to be his friend and that's final

• They eventually become friends when they realize they both like D&D

• When they get to highschool tho

• The dynamic flips

• Since Eddie's older, he has two years to become the Cool Kid that attracts the other freaks and weirdos

• Gareth was kinda scared they wouldn't be friends anymore

• But Eddie doesn't let go of Gareth

• They're besties

• Gareth was Eddie's first bandmate and the first member of Hellfire

• Gareths 'queer awakening' was Eddie but nothing ever happen other than a kiss or two when Eddie was high

• Gareth doesn't do drugs

• He drinks tho

• He has a very strange moral code that only he understands

• Also he was the first one to get a car out of all his friends

• He drives like a mad man

• Do not let this man behind the wheel

• Speed limits are merely a suggestion

• He also doesn't know what it means to gradually brake. He slams on those bitches

• (only when Gwyn's not in the car, he's not an irresponsible brother, thank you very much)

• He gets better eventually

• Eddie learns to drive so he can properly teach Gareth (who taught himself)

• He constantly taps the steering wheel

• Even if there's no music playing

• Gareth is loud and he is chaotic

• He probablys has some sort of undiagnosed adhd

• But y'know, it's the 80s. Mental illness doesn't exist or whatever

• Gareth is just trying to live his life's you know?

• Oh also, this boy has attitude for DAYS

• Like holy shit

• He can talk shit like no one else

• It's only when he's really mad tho

• He just runs his mouth and he doesn't know when to stop

• But the things he says are genuinely true and his insults hit home and it pisses the other person off

• As a result, Gareth is decently fast bc getting beat up isn't fun

• He's got into his share of fights tho

• But he usually avoids them

• He's more bark than bite. But his bark is totally worse

• He either had a septum or a nose ring

• He's the type to judge movies the entire time it's on

• He makes smartass comments under his breath

• Laughs at inappropriate times

• (Like when a character dies)

• He only drinks red drinks

• Or from red cans

• Dr pepper is his best friend

• He also loves cherry anything

• He'd be the red character

But now onto some dating hcs

• He likes to hold hands

• A LOT

• He's just a big fan of physical contact

• He also loves when his hair is played with

• His love language is gift giving

• Well moreso just giving in general

• His rings, clothes, etc

• He just gives them to his partner randomly

• ALSO ROCKS

• he collects rocks

• He's been doing it since he was a kid

• He probably has one of those jars that you put a rock in when ur happy

• He has a lot of rocks in his jar

• He's given all his friends a rock

• Eddie has several

• His partner also has many

• He would be so happy to find out you actually keep them

• Whenever you guys go on a date, he gives you a rock

• He also has a rock and he writes the date on it

• He starts a new jar just for the date-rocks

• Those are extra special, he finds the best rocks he can for you and him

• But moving on from rocks

• He invites you to his shows

• And band practice

• Eddie hates it bc he gets distracted

• But he gets so happy when he sees you watching him play

• He plays extra well

• Once he can take his eyes off you that is

• But let's rewind to the beginning of your relationship

• You meet him through Eddie

• After a few days of hanging out together he invited you to dinner

• (You order takeout and go back to his place)

• It's nice, it's just the two of you in his bedroom, the dim tv illuminating it

• He confesses to you right when you take a drink of whatever it is you're drinking

• You choke

• And Gareth ofc laughs bc that's who he is

• But you say you like him back and viola

• You're dating

• He's fond of drive-in movie dates

• Even though it's like an hour drive to the next city where the theater is

• He's a movie geek

• It's definitely his sister's fault

• Both of them

• You think it's adorable tho

• HE TALKS THROUGH MOVIES

• THE WHOLE TIME

• HE MAKES SMARTASS COMMENTS UNDER HIS BREATH

• And you're sitting next to him just cracking up at his commentary

• Bc really, it's entertaining

• He calls you all kinds of different nicknames

• He's looking for one to stick

• So he just had a continual rotating arsenal of nicknames that he likes to use

• Your nicknames for him usually revolve around drumming

• He's not amused

• You are tho, teasing him is your favorite pastime

• And he just stares at you with his flat, deadpan look

• His arms crossed and everything

• He teases you back ofc, but sometimes you can't tell when he's joking bc of his tone

• But that's what makes it fun