#I was nervous originally on sharing his design

[chloesimaginationthings]

YOUR FNAF3 PHONE DUDE DESIGN IS SO PERFECT!

IM GLAD YALL LIKED PHONE DUDE’S DESIGN! 📞

[dollgxtz]

Trick or...Temptation?

Word Count: 9.8k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, pet play if u squint, creampie, biting, rough sex, pet names like kitten, sweetie, penetration, cunninlingus, i wanted to make this a vampire!sylus fic so bad but I got nervous lmao but theres slight mentions of him :3

AN: Happy Halloween everyone! I sincerely hope u all enjoy this, it was super fun to write! I rushed to finish this so I could post it exactly on Halloween. Enjoy!

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?” You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

“Come oooon! It’ll be so much fun!” Tara exclaimed, trailing behind you as you both walked out of work. The day had ended early thanks to the holiday, and while most people had exciting Halloween plans, you had opted for a quiet night in with a scary movie marathon. Of course, your enthusiastic coworker had other ideas for you.

“Tara, as much as I’d love to, it’s really just not my scene, you know? Maybe next year?” you tried, hoping to dodge her invitation once again.

“You always say that!” Tara pouted, her voice pleading as she quickened her pace to walk beside you. “Please? It’ll be fun! Just a few hours, a couple of drinks, a little dancing, and we can leave! Deal? It’s a festival, for crying out loud! I don’t want to go by myself.”

You glanced at Tara, her eyes wide and shimmering with that classic puppy-dog look she always gave you when she really wanted something. You couldn’t deny she had a point. It wasn’t like you had big plans for the night—just a quiet evening with a blanket and some popcorn. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to step out for a few hours, right?

“Fine,” you finally sighed, rolling your eyes but smiling a little. “But only for a few hours, and then I’m out.”

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, bestie!” Tara squealed, practically bouncing in excitement. “I’ll see you later tonight! You’re going to love it!”

And that was how you found yourself here, standing in front of your mirror, dressed in a skimpy cat costume. You adjusted the white miniskirt and tugged at the black corset top, making sure everything was in place. The cat ears perched on your head and the swishing tail added a playful touch, though the whole ensemble was definitely more revealing than you were used to. You sighed, resigned to your fate.

You didn’t have to stay long, you reminded yourself. Just a few hours, and then you could slip back into your original plan of movie night...hopefully without running into too much trouble.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, typing a quick message to Tara: On my way. Hitting send, you opened your ride-share app. If you were going to be drinking tonight, it was best not to drive yourself. The car arrived faster than you expected, and you slipped into the back seat, watching the city lights blur by as you mentally prepared yourself for the night ahead.

Arriving at the event, you stepped out of the car and immediately took in the scene. The park had been transformed into a Halloween wonderland, bustling with life. String lights cast a soft, warm glow over the area, illuminating clusters of people already well into the party spirit. Bodies bumped together in rhythm with the pulsing beat of the music, and a mix of excited chatter and laughter filled the cool night air. The grass beneath your shoes was damp with evening dew, and the faint scent of autumn leaves and spiced drinks wafted through the crowd.

Everywhere you looked, Halloween-themed decorations adorned the space—carved pumpkins lined the walkways, some with goofy faces, others with intricate, eerie designs. Fake cobwebs clung to the trees, and glowing skeletons and witch hats dangled from makeshift booths. There was an excitement in the air, palpable and contagious, though you still felt a little out of place.

Your eyes wandered toward the bar at the far end of the festival grounds. It was busy, but it was exactly what you needed. Liquid courage, you thought. If you were going to make it through the night, a drink or two would certainly help take the edge off. You made a beeline for it, weaving through the crowd, your thoughts focused on what your first drink would be—something strong, something to help you loosen up.

Just as you were about to make your escape, a high-pitched squeal cut through the music, and you barely had time to turn before you saw her—Tara, dressed in her fairy costume, wings glittering under the lights, barreling toward you at full speed.

“You’re here!!” she cried, wrapping you in an excited hug before you could even react. “Oh my God, I thought for sure you’d bailed or fallen asleep or something!”

You laughed, the sound surprising even you. “Yeah, well, you convinced me. I wouldn’t leave you hanging,” you said, shaking your head as you hugged her back, her energy instantly infectious.

Tara pulled back, her wide smile practically glowing. “Thank you soooo much for coming! I’m so excited, I can’t even—” she paused, looking you up and down, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “You look amazing! That cat costume is sexy! Definitely a step up from your usual movie marathon at home, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit, this is...different,” you muttered, tugging at the hem of your miniskirt. The cool night air reminded you just how short it was. But Tara was right—you didn’t do this often. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to try something new tonight.

Tara, completely unfazed by your slight discomfort, grabbed your hand with excitement. “Alright, enough chatting. Let’s get some drinks! We’re here to have fun, and the night is young!”

She pulled you toward the bar, and you couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. It wasn’t your scene, but with Tara by your side, maybe the night wouldn’t be so bad after all. The thumping bass of the music, the swirl of costumes, and the faint buzz of excitement in the air already had you feeling a little lighter.

The two of you made your way through the crowd and finally approached the bar. It was busy, but not unbearable, with people lined up in various costumes, chatting, laughing, and ordering drinks. As you and Tara waited for your turn, she started rambling about all the new Halloween movies you two could watch later, once the festival was over.

“There’s this one that’s supposed to be so creepy! It’s about these haunted scarecrows that come to life—oh, and don’t even get me started on the one with the possessed doll…” Tara continued, her excitement infectious as she rattled off titles.

You nodded along, half-listening, your mind slightly wandering as you scanned the area. The lights flickered over the bar, casting an eerie glow on the bottles lined up behind the counter. The decorations were elaborate—fake cobwebs stretched across the bar shelves, and jack-o’-lanterns glowed faintly from the corners of the space. You were just starting to get lost in your thoughts when the bartender, a stunning blonde woman dressed in a witch costume, turned to you with a smile.

“Hi, can I get a—” you began, but you were abruptly cut off by a smooth, male voice behind you.

“I’ll get a Gin Fizz and two margaritas for the ladies,” the voice said with casual authority.

You froze for a moment, the sound of that voice sending a jolt down your spine. You spun around, and there he was.

Sylus.

Tall, effortlessly imposing, with his signature white hair catching the dim light and his crimson red eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, knowing glint. He wore a dark, sleek outfit that hugged his frame perfectly, making him stand out even in the crowd of costumes. His smile was just as confident and wicked as you remembered.

“Long time no see, kitten” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with amusement as he looked down at you, eyeing your costume.

Your stomach did a flip. Of all the people you could have run into tonight, Sylus was the last person you expected—or wanted—to see. You hadn’t seen him in a while, and now here he was, appearing out of nowhere like he always did, and immediately making your pulse quicken.

“Sy-I mean Skye?” you stammered, catching yourself as Tara turned around too, clearly intrigued by the sudden appearance of this tall, striking man. Her bright eyes went wide, and she started clapping her hands excitedly.

“Skye! I haven’t seen you since our team-building outing! How’s the fruit business?” she asked, her voice bright and friendly as she came to stand beside you, completely unaware of your racing heart.

Sylus—no, Skye—didn’t miss a beat. He flashed Tara an easy smile, looking as unruffled as ever. “Ah, the fruit business is...ripe as always,” he replied with a wink towards you, clearly enjoying the nervous look on your face.

The bartender cleared her throat, cutting through the tension. “There’s a line, folks,” she said with a polite but firm smile, nodding toward the queue of people waiting for their drinks. “Take your drinks and let the others through.”

You blinked, suddenly remembering where you were. Nervously, you reached for your margarita and handed Sylus his gin fizz, all while trying to calm the wild beating of your heart. The casual smirk on his face did nothing to help your nerves. With drinks in hand, you and Tara moved toward a quieter, empty spot at the edge of the festival, away from the bar's chaos. Sylus, of course, followed.

As soon as you settled into your spot, Sylus wasted no time, his teasing smirk never fading. His eyes roamed over your outfit—your skimpy black cat costume with the mini skirt, corset top, and cat ears—and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze.

With a predatory gleam in his eye, he sauntered over, his smirk growing more wicked by the second. “You say you don’t want me calling you kitten, and yet here you are,” he drawled, letting his gaze sweep over your costume. “Dressed as one. How cute.”

You glared at him, already feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “Zip it...” you warned, rolling your eyes at the sheer irony of it all. But despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but let a small giggle slip past your lips. It was absurd, really. Of course, of all the costumes you could've picked it just had to be this one.

He just chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. He took a sip of his own drink, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What are you even doing here?” you finally asked, your voice a little sharper than intended. “I thought you didn’t like crowded places.”

Sylus gave a soft laugh, leaning against a nearby post with his usual air of nonchalance. “I’m not a fan of crowds,” he admitted, his gaze flickering back to the sea of people dancing and drinking. “But I happen to own this little part of Linkon.” He said it so casually, as if it were no big deal. “Figured I’d make an appearance. Keep an eye on things.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. Of course he did. Sylus always had a way of showing up in places you least expected him—places you thought you could escape from him, if only for a night. But owning part of the city? That was new.

But not surprising.

Tara, who had already downed her margarita, was clearly impressed. “Woah, Skye,” she slurred slightly, her eyes wide with admiration. “The fruit vendor business must pay soooo well.”

You shot her a look, silently willing her to stop talking, but she was already giggling, oblivious to the tension between you and Sylus. He, on the other hand, seemed more amused than anything.

“What can I say?” Sylus replied smoothly, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Fresh fruit is forever in demand.” His eyes met yours again, clearly enjoying the joke that only the two of you understood.

You groaned inwardly, sipping more of your margarita as you glared at Sylus. He was playing along, effortlessly weaving his cover story about being a simple fruit vendor. And yet, there he was, owning half the city and standing in front of you, looking like he could control the whole damn world if he wanted to.

Sylus raised his glass in a mock toast, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. “Happy Halloween?” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered under your breath, knowing full well that this night was gonna be a loooong one.

Tara, always quick to notice things, suddenly glanced at Sylus with a playful frown. “Wait a second, Skye,” she said, squinting at him, “you’re not even in costume!” She giggled, rummaging through her bag, clearly not letting him off the hook. “This is a Halloween festival, after all. You’ve gotta dress the part!”

You internally groaned, already bracing yourself for whatever Tara had up her sleeve. But of course, she wasn’t about to disappoint. With a triumphant grin, she pulled out a small plastic case from her bag and popped it open, revealing a pair of cheap, plastic vampire fangs.

“Here!” she said, holding them out to Sylus with a twinkle in her eye. “These will work perfectly. You’ve already got the whole pale, mysterious look going on. You’d make such a great vampire!”

You couldn’t help but glance at Sylus, your heart skipping a beat as you realized just how well Tara’s suggestion fit. His striking white hair, his sharp features, and those intense, crimson eyes...he really would make a disturbingly convincing vampire.

To your surprise—and mild horror—Sylus flashed a wicked grin, clearly entertained by the whole situation. “A vampire, huh?” he mused, taking the plastic fangs from Tara’s hand and inspecting them. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with that all-too-familiar mischief. “I guess I can pull that off.”

He slid the fake teeth into his mouth with an exaggerated flourish, and somehow, even with cheap plastic fangs, he managed to look both ridiculous and annoyingly attractive at the same time. He bared his new "fangs" with a cheeky grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“See?” Tara beamed, clapping her hands together. “I told you! You look like you’ve been doing this your whole life!”

Sylus smirked, turning his attention back to you, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone he always used to get under your skin. “I do make a rather convincing vampire, don’t I?” he said, flashing his fake fangs at you with a playful gleam in his eyes. “What do you think, kitten?”

You glared at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “You’re lucky I don’t have garlic,” you muttered, sipping your drink to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Tara, oblivious to the tension between the two of you, just giggled again and raised her empty glass. “I need another drink after that! I'm gonna go get another round,” she said, already walking back toward the bar.

As soon as Tara was out of earshot, Sylus’s demeanor shifted slightly. The playful grin remained, but now, with just the two of you, there was something darker, more intense in his expression. He stepped closer, his presence suddenly much more imposing.

“You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he closed the distance between you, “I think your friend is onto something” His eyes gleamed, locking onto yours with that wicked, teasing look you knew all too well.

Before you could react, he leaned in—so close that you could feel his warm breath on your neck. Your heart jumped in your chest, the sudden proximity sending a shiver down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin, teasing, as he lingered just inches from your neck, not touching you but close enough that goosebumps instantly rose along your arms.

You froze, every nerve in your body suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. The scent of him, a mix of something dark and enticing, filled your senses. Your pulse quickened, and you couldn’t hide the goosebumps now crawling up your skin.

He let his breath linger for just a moment longer before his lips curled into a smirk near your ear. “You might want to watch out, kitten,” he whispered, his voice a low, teasing growl. “I could get used to this.”

Your breath hitched, and you struggled to keep your composure, your pulse racing wildly. “Sylus…” you warned, trying to sound stern, but your voice betrayed the effect he was having on you.

He chuckled softly, clearly reveling in your reaction. Straightening up slightly, he didn’t step back but remained close, his crimson eyes still locked on yours. “What’s the matter?” he teased, his voice smooth and playful. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You glared at him, trying to mask the fact that your heart was still hammering in your chest. “Don’t start,” you muttered, forcing a glare, even though you could still feel the heat from where his breath had brushed your skin.

Sylus took a slow sip of his drink, his smirk never fading. “I wasn’t starting anything,” he said innocently, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes said otherwise. “Just playing the part.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks and the pounding of your heart betrayed you. “Just don’t bite anyone,” you shot back, trying to reclaim some control over the situation.

“No promises,” Sylus said, his voice soft but dangerous, his gaze lingering on you as if you were his prey.

Tara came bouncing back over to you with two martinis, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hey! Want to dance?” she asked, already swaying to the music.

You barely hesitated, desperate for a way to escape the overwhelming tension with Sylus. “Yeah, sure,” you said, quickly taking the martini from Tara and downing a good portion of it. You could feel Sylus’s eyes on you, and when you glanced his way, he simply gave a slight nod, clearly content with watching you both from afar.

Your skin prickled under his gaze as you and Tara made your way toward the middle of the festival. The music was thumping, bodies swaying together under the dim, flickering lights. You still felt uneasy knowing Sylus was watching you, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. But as the alcohol worked its way through your system, slowly loosening your limbs and dulling the tension, you started to let yourself get lost in the music. Tara twirled around you, laughing and dancing without a care in the world, and soon enough, you found yourself smiling and moving along with her.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the warmth of the alcohol was settling into your bones, making everything seem a little hazier, a little easier. The bass pulsed through the air, the crowd a blur of costumes and laughter, and for a moment, you forgot about Sylus’s watchful eyes.

But eventually, a different need called your attention—you really had to pee.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you shouted over the music to Tara.

“I’ll come with you!” she offered, but you shook your head.

“No, no, it’s fine. Stay here! I’ll be right back.”

Tara shrugged, happily returning to her dancing as you weaved your way through the crowd, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin as you stepped away from the dance floor. Your steps were a little unsteady, and as you made your way to the row of porta potties set up near the back of the festival grounds, you blinked to clear your vision. Everything seemed a little...fuzzy. The alcohol was really kicking in now, and you swore the ground felt a little wobbly under your feet.

You managed to find an open porta potty, and after handling your business, you stepped out, blinking again as the world swayed in front of you. Shit...am I really this drunk? you thought, steadying yourself against the side of the porta potty for a moment. Your vision was blurry, and everything seemed a little too bright, a little too loud.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching. For a second, you thought it was Sylus. The height was wrong, but the dark outline and the way the man moved had you second-guessing yourself. Relief almost flooded through you, but then the figure got closer, and the sour, stale scent hit your nose.

No, this definitely wasn’t Sylus.

The man was much shorter, stockier, and as he came closer, you could smell him—like sweat and cheap cologne, mixed with the stench of too much booze. Your stomach churned uncomfortably as he stepped into your personal space, his breath hot and sour as he leaned in a little too close.

“Hey there,” he slurred, his voice dripping with false charm. “You look a little lost. Why don’t you come to my car? It’s parked just over there.”

Your heart jumped in your chest, and you instinctively stepped back, trying to put some distance between you and him. “No, I’m fine,” you said quickly, your voice shaky as you tried to move past him. But he stepped into your path, blocking you with an alarming quickness for someone who seemed so drunk.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he said, his tone darkening, his hand reaching out to grab your arm. “It’ll be fun. I can show you a good time, little kitty.”

Panic surged through you as you tried to yank your arm away, stumbling slightly as your vision blurred again. The alcohol was making it hard to focus, and you cursed under your breath. “No, leave me alone!” you said, your voice firmer now as you tried to push past him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his face twisting with frustration. “I said come with me,” he growled, pulling harder.

Your pulse skyrocketed, fear taking over as you struggled to break free. Just as you were about to shout for help, a shadow loomed behind the man.

“I’d suggest you listen to her.”

That voice—it was low, cold, and unmistakable. You looked up, relief crashing through you like a wave as Sylus appeared, his tall figure practically radiating menace. The shorter man immediately let go of your arm, turning to face Sylus with a sneer, clearly trying to act tough despite the difference in size.

“And who the hell are you? I'm her boyfriend, fuck off” the man spat, puffing out his chest.

Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice low and deadly. Without another word, a cold red mist began to swirl around him, tendrils of it seeping through the air like something out of a nightmare. The temperature around you seemed to drop, and you could feel the mist growing denser, colder.

The drunken man didn’t seem to realize what was happening until it was too late. The red mist wrapped around him like a snake, tightening and choking him. His eyes bulged as he gasped for air, his grip on your arm loosening as fear took over.

Sylus didn’t stop. His eyes were locked on the man, his fury palpable as the mist constricted tighter.

The man’s face turned a sickly shade of purple as he clawed at the mist around his throat, desperately trying to break free. He gagged, his drunken bravado crumbling into pure terror.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you stepped forward, grabbing Sylus’s arm. “Stop. You’re going to kill him...there's people all around us.”

Sylus’s eyes flicked to you, still cold and angry, but there was a flicker of hesitation. You could see the struggle behind his gaze, his fury barely held in check. But slowly, the mist around the man’s throat began to dissipate. Sylus released him, letting the man fall to the ground, coughing and wheezing as he scrambled to his feet.

The man didn’t waste a second. He stumbled away, terrified, mumbling incoherently as he disappeared into the crowd, wanting nothing more than to escape the nightmare he had just experienced.

Sylus’s shoulders tensed, his body still vibrating with anger as he watched the man retreat. His breathing was heavy, and though the mist had vanished, the chill in the air remained.

You stood there, your heart still racing, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified by what had just happened. As Sylus turned toward you, you could see him trying to calm himself.

“My kitten,” he said softly, though his voice was still rough with residual anger, “is always getting herself into sticky situations.” He took a step closer, his usual smirk returning, though there was a hardness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Good thing I’m a vampire tonight. I can sniff out when she gets herself in trouble.”

You managed a shaky laugh, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. “You didn’t have to almost kill him,” you muttered, trying to regain your composure.

Sylus shrugged, his eyes softening as he looked you over, checking to make sure you were truly alright. “He deserved worse,” he said, though his tone was lighter now. “But I’ll behave. For you.”

Sylus suddenly glanced down at his watch, his expression hardening almost instantly. Without warning, he turned to you and, in a firm voice, announced, “We’re leaving.”

You blinked, confused. “What? Leaving? Why? What about Tara?”

But Sylus didn’t bother explaining. He grabbed your arm with a sense of urgency, pulling you away from the festival and weaving through the crowd. You tried to dig your feet into the ground, but with the alcohol still lingering in your system, your balance wasn’t on your side. “Hey! What about Tara?” you protested, struggling to keep up with his swift pace.

Sylus barely glanced back at you as he strode toward a sleek, black car parked near the edge of the festival grounds. “Luke and Kieran are taking her home,” he replied coolly, unlocking the car with a flick of his wrist. “Behave, and get inside.”

You planted your feet, halting in your tracks as you shook your head, confused and frustrated. “Wait—what? Why are we leaving so suddenly? I don’t—”

But Sylus wasn’t in the mood for a debate. He turned, his eyes flashing with irritation, and in one swift motion, he pushed the car door open, his grip on your arm tightening slightly as he guided you into the passenger seat. You tried to resist, squirming under his firm hold.

“Get in the car,” he sighed, clearly not in the mood to argue. “Please.”

After a bit more struggle—your alcohol-fueled frustration not making it easy—you finally huffed in defeat and let him guide you into the seat. He shut the door behind you with a sharp click before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.

You sulked in silence as he started the engine, the low hum of the car doing little to soothe your frustration. You didn’t understand why Sylus was being so forceful all of a sudden, and the abruptness of it all only added to the confusion swirling in your mind. The alcohol still clouded your thoughts, making it hard to argue, and as the car began to move, the steady rhythm of the ride lulled you into an unexpected calm.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite the tension of the night, you found yourself slowly drifting off. The next thing you knew, darkness had settled around you, and your body slipped into a deep, alcohol-fueled sleep.

When you woke, you felt yourself being carried, the world around you shifting. The first thing you noticed was Sylus’s steady, strong grip beneath you, his arms holding you close as he walked. You blinked groggily, your vision clearing slightly as you realized you were no longer at the festival—or in the car.

Sylus was carrying you through the dim, industrial halls of his home in the N109 Zone. The walls were dark and sleek, bathed in a soft glow from the faint lights overhead. The cold, sterile air of the house prickled against your skin, sobering you up a little more as you processed what was happening.

A wave of frustration hit you. With your head clearer now, you reached up and pinched his cheek, your fingers digging in as you muttered, “Asshole.”

Sylus let out a soft grunt of surprise, glancing down at you with a bemused look. “Still feisty, I see,” he murmured, though there was an amused glint in his eyes. “How unfortunate that the nap didn't dull your attitude".

You scowled, still annoyed by the way he had just whisked you away without any explanation. “You dragged me away from the festival without even telling me why,” you muttered, your voice sharper now that you were more awake. “What the hell, Sylus?”

He just chuckled softly, ignoring the sting from your pinch. “You were in no state to argue,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact as he carried you further into his home. “And I had enough of babysitting you the whole night.”

“Well I didn't ask you to watch me,” you grumbled, though your body still felt heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol. You squirmed a little in his arms, trying to free yourself, but his grip on you was steady and unyielding.

“You can complain all you want, kitten,” he said with a smirk, “but you needed to get out of there. Trust me.”

You huffed, more irritated now. “Don’t call me kitten,” you muttered, glaring up at him through half-lidded eyes. It was bad enough that he always teased you with that nickname—tonight, it felt like he was deliberately rubbing salt in the wound.

Sylus glanced down at you, his smirk deepening into a mischievous grin. “Why not?” he asked, his voice soft, teasing, as his eyes traveled over your outfit. “You’re dressed like one tonight. Seems even more fitting than usual, doesn’t it?”

Sylus carried you effortlessly through the halls of his home until he reached his room. He set you down gently on the large, plush bed, its softness immediately pulling you in. The sheets felt cool against your skin as you sank into them, your body still heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol.

You watched as Sylus moved across the room, grabbing a glass of water from a nearby table and bringing it back to the nightstand beside the bed. “Drink this,” he said, his voice less teasing now, more gentle. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Go to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes but obediently took a sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. As you placed the glass back down, you realized that the fog in your mind was starting to lift. You weren’t as drunk as you had been earlier—your head was clearer now, though you were still feeling bold enough to be a little reckless.

Sylus walked across the room, settling into a large leather chair near the window, watching you from a distance. He leaned back, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, clearly still on edge after the events of the night.

But something stirred inside you—a spark of mischievousness born from the alcohol still lingering in your system. You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking of how he had pulled you away from the festival without warning, how he always teased you, and how you could never seem to one-up him. Maybe now was your chance.

You slid out of bed and onto all fours, quietly crawling toward him. Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. “What are you doing?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and warning.

You didn’t answer. Instead, when you reached him, you rested your face against his legs and set your head down in his lap, rubbing your cheek against him in a way that could only be described as cat-like.

For a moment, Sylus just stared at you, processing what you were doing. Then, a low chuckle escaped his lips, and he leaned forward slightly, looking down at you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Not only are you dressed like a cat,” he said, his voice laced with playful sarcasm, “but now you’ve decided to act like one too.”

You smirked to yourself, feeling triumphant in your little act of rebellion. “I’m just embracing the part,” you murmured, your voice teasing as you nuzzled your face slightly against his legs.

Sylus’s hand twitched slightly, and for a moment, you wondered if he would push you away—but he didn’t. Instead, he just watched you, his gaze sharp and curious, though there was a flicker of something darker beneath his playful expression.

“Careful, kitten,” he said softly, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous tone that always made your pulse race. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze, the mischief still swirling inside you. “And what if I am?” you challenged, pushing yourself just a little further, enjoying the way his body tensed beneath you.

Sylus’s crimson eyes darkened, his smirk fading slightly as he studied you more closely. There was something electric in the air between you now, the tension palpable as he weighed his next move.

“You’re bold tonight,” he said, his voice softer now, more serious. “Bolder than usual.”

You just smiled up at him, feeling a rush of satisfaction at having thrown him off balance, even if only slightly. “Maybe it’s the cat costume,” you teased, still resting your head in his lap. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Sylus’s eyes darkened, his smirk growing more predatory as he leaned down slightly, closing the distance between your faces. He looked at you with a gleam of amusement and hunger, his tone shifting to something deeper, more commanding.

“Since you’re feeling so bold,” he said softly, his voice dripping with a dangerous edge, “you should have no problem mewling a little for me then, hm?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the sudden shift in tone making your pulse race even faster. The way he looked at you, his gaze intense and unwavering, made your skin prickle with nervous anticipation. He wasn’t playing around anymore. The teasing had escalated, and now he was testing you, pushing you to see how far you would go.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, a mix of defiance and something else stirring within you. The tension between you two had never been more palpable, and in that moment, it felt like a line was being drawn—a challenge you weren’t sure if you wanted to accept or retreat from.

Sylus leaned back slightly, his expression amused as he watched the gears turn in your head. “What’s the matter?” he teased, though his voice was softer now, coaxing. “Cat got your tongue?"

You smirked at Sylus’s challenge, the mischievous spark in your eyes growing even brighter. Fine, you thought, two can play at that game.

Without hesitation, you leaned into the role he was teasing you about, doubling down on your boldness. You let out a soft, playful meow, pawing at his legs like a mischievous cat. The alcohol still buzzing in your system only made it easier to fully embrace the act, and you were determined to throw him off balance—if only for a moment.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at how far you were willing to take the game, but his smirk never wavered. If anything, it deepened as he watched you with amusement, his crimson eyes twinkling with intrigue. “Oh, so we’re really doing this?” he murmured, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You meowed again, more dramatically this time, your hands pawing at his pants as you looked up at him with exaggerated innocence. You could see the amusement in his eyes, and you knew you had him—at least for now. Deciding to push the limits, you got even closer, deciding to rub your face against his half hard cock hidden beneath his jeans.

Seems he was more affected than he was letting on.

With a mocking grin, Sylus reached down and ran his hand gently over the top of your head, as if petting you like a real cat. “You must be very drunk,” he teased, his voice light and playful. “Acting like a kitten and now letting me pet you? I need a camera.”

But before he could pull his hand away, you leaned forward and bit him—lightly, but enough to make a point. He barely reacted before withdrawing his hand, his eyes widening with mock surprise as he looked down at you.

“Oh?,” Sylus said with a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “You even bite too? What an unpredictable little kitten I have”

You grinned up at him, feeling victorious in your rebellion, the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline making you bolder than ever. “I warned you not to underestimate me,” you teased, your eyes still locked on his, enjoying the game far more than you expected.

Sylus’s playful smirk returned, though there was an undeniable glint of something darker in his gaze. “I think you've forgotten something though” he said softly, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping lower.

"I bite back.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your grin in place, unwilling to back down now. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the playful teasing quickly evolving into something far more intense. You had started this game, and now you were both caught in it.

But for now, you weren’t ready to back down. “I think I can handle it,” you replied, your voice light but laced with challenge.

Sylus’s eyes flickered with amusement, but the edge in his gaze remained. “Is that so?”

Before you could react, Sylus stood up abruptly, his towering presence looming over you. Caught off guard, you stumbled backward, landing on your elbows. Instinctively, you began to scoot back, trying to put some distance between you and his intense gaze, but there was nowhere to go. You felt the cool sheets of the bed press against your back as you found yourself cornered, unable to escape the situation you'd playfully started.

Sylus took a slow step forward, his eyes locked on yours, predatory and amused. He enjoyed how you had pushed him, but now it seemed like the tables had turned. You bit your lip, feeling your heart race in a way that wasn’t just from fear or excitement—it was something more.

“Sylus,” you said, your voice half-teasing, half-nervous, “you’re not really going to—” But the words caught in your throat as he leaned over you, his face inches from yours, cutting off any space for escape.

You were about to plead again, but your voice faltered as he lowered himself closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Why so nervous now?” he teased, his voice low and dangerous, echoing your earlier defiance.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the intensity in his gaze rendered you speechless. Instead, all you could do was look at him, your breath catching in your throat as the air around you thickened with anticipation.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the predatory edge was still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

You nodded again, almost breathless. “Y-yes,” you whispered.

Without waiting another moment, Sylus’s lips were on yours. The kiss was slow at first, his hand coming up to cradle your face gently, despite the tension hanging in the air. You melted into the kiss, your mind swimming as his lips moved against yours with a mixture of tenderness and hunger. It was as if he was savoring every second.

But then his lips trailed down, leaving a hot path along your jawline, and before you knew it, he was at your neck. You shuddered, the sensation making your pulse quicken, and just as the heat spread through you, you felt a sharp sting—his teeth sinking into your skin.

You gasped, a groan escaping your lips as the bite sent a jolt of pain through your body. Your hands instinctively gripped the sheets beneath you as your body tensed, your head spinning with the mixture of pain and adrenaline. Sylus’s teeth sank in deeper for just a moment, the pressure sharp but somehow electrifying.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His crimson eyes gleamed as he watched your reaction, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?”

You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, and though the bite had hurt, there was something about his voice, his presence, that made you want to give in. Despite yourself, you found your body relaxing under his touch, your breath steadying as you nodded again, almost instinctively.

Sylus smiled, his lips brushing against your neck once more. “Good girl,” he whispered before trailing soft kisses along your skin, his hands firm but gentle as they held you in place.

Before you could respond, his teeth sank into your skin again, this time in a different spot. The bite was just as sharp, if not sharper, and you gasped, your back arching involuntarily as another jolt of pain shot through you. The sting was immediate, but beneath it, there was a strange thrill, an intensity that made your heart race.

Your hands gripped the sheets even tighter as he bit down harder, holding the pressure for a few seconds longer this time. Warm tears begin to pour down your face. The sensation of his teeth against your skin left you both groaning in pain and caught in something deeper, more electric. Each mark he left felt like a brand, a reminder of just how much control he had over you in this moment.

Sylus didn’t pull back right away; instead, he lingered at your neck, sucking gently at the new mark he’d made, as if savoring the taste of your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat, your body trembling beneath him, torn between the sharp sting of the bite and the warmth that followed in its wake.

When he finally released you, he trailed slow, deliberate kisses over the fresh mark, his tongue grazing your skin in a way that made your head spin. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the possessive way his hands held you in place as if daring you to protest.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was lay there, breathless, as the intensity of it all washed over you.

Sylus looked down at you, his gaze full of smug satisfaction as he admired the new set of marks he’d left on your neck. His thumb grazed over them gently, tracing the outlines of his bites as if claiming you in some silent, unspoken way.

“You wear my marks well,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement. “Perhaps you should challenge me more often, kitten.”

Unable to respond, you watch as his lips makes contact with yours again, gentle but devastating. Every nerve in your body sings for him at the contact, and you feel more warm tears finally slip from your eyes to drip down between your lips and his. He pulls back to look at you, wiping those tears away and sighing in pleasure at whatever expression he finds on your face. You curl your fingers in his shirt and tug him back to you, wanting to savor this, but also wanting more, so much more.

Your tongue slips past his, and your fingers tangle into the back of his hair of their own accord. He moans, honest to god moans into your mouth at the contact, and any pretense either of you may have had about this being only a kiss simply evaporates. His mouth moves more insistently against yours, hand cradling the entire side of your face, and you finally allow your hips to push forward, finding him fully hard this time.

He suddenly leans back and pulls his shirt over his head one-handed in a smooth, practiced motion. It's the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen. If you didn't know that almost certainly mind-blowing sex is soon to follow, you'd swear that there's nothing better on this earth than watching Sylus strip his own shirt off to bare that sinful chest. 

He smirks down at you, resting one hand on your hipbone and snaking the other to the waistband of his pants, but that's more than you can take right now. You hook your legs around the back of his and pull him down, desperate, and you shudder as his clothed erection is finally brought flush against your arousal. 

"Sylus, please," you whine, trusting that he knows what you're begging for. His fingers tighten and relax on your hip as if by reflex, and you can barely think straight around your need to have him inside you. 

"You're sure?" he huffs, capturing your mouth again, and you'd laugh if you weren't fit to combust from desire. 

"God, I'm sure." You don't think you've ever wanted anything more in your life, to be honest.

Sylus's lips pull up into another satisfied smirk against yours, and his fingers dig into your flesh with intent this time as he leans back again. "Maybe we should wait until you're more sober-"

"No!" you interrupt him, probably too quickly, and he quirks an eyebrow again. "Um, I mean...I'm good."

"You're good?" he asks, and fuck, it's so hard to think around this insistent, burning desire. You could sense his small hesitation and become desperate to ease his worries surrounding your state of mind.

"Yeah," you tell him again, as pointedly as you can while impatient with lust. "The nap really helped, I'm okay."

He hesitates a moment longer, and you feel like your about to combust with need.

"Sylus. I want you. All of you." You reach a hand out to cup the length of him through his pants, delighting in the narrowing in his eyes and the shudder that goes through him. A sudden thrill of confidence has you saying the filthiest thing you've ever said before you can stop yourself.

"I want you to cum inside me. Please."

You think the look in his eyes might be a little bit feral as he turns his full attention back to your body, tugging your skirt . He slips his fingers into your panties with no preamble, and he sighs appreciatively at the slick he feels there. "You've wanted this for a long time, haven't you?"

He's going to drive you insane, and when you tell him as much, his only response is to tear the garment down your legs, toss it behind him, and press two fingers inside of you. You choke and gasp his name as he grins wickedly down at you.

"Yeah, you have." He presses deeper, thumb brushing your clit, and you can't hold back a desperate cry. 

"Sylus, please-" 

"Fuck..." His eyes trail down to where his fingers are buried, and you'd be self-conscious if you had even a single brain cell to spare that isn't consumed by pleasure. "Do you know how long I've wanted this, gorgeous? The second I saw you in that costume I wanted to tear it off".

You can only gasp and buck your hips shamelessly as he continues, murmuring encouragement and looking both as smug and as charming as he ever has. This feels so good, so unreal, his slender fingers hitting all the right spots inside you while his thumb continues rubbing lazy circles outside. You can hardly believe that the same fingers your eyes have lingered on as they hold bullets or curl around a trigger - the same hands you've seen kill countless times - are now the gentle architects of your mind-numbing pleasure. 

"Come on, that's it," Sylus coos with a particularly delicious quirk of those fingers, pulling you out of hazy memories and back to what you realize is now an imminent orgasm. Your eyes drag from the stark outline of his erection against his pants, up his chest and to his face, where you catch him biting his lip in his concentration.

"Sylus-" Your hips buck against his hand as the tension coils inside you. "I'm-" 

"I know. Go head and cum kitten," he says with another devilish grin, and god, he's going to be the end of you. 

"Sylus," you gasp again, reduced to this mindless desperation as his talented fingers work you while your release hovers just out of reach. "Please, I'm-" 

He finally takes pity on you and ducks his head to seal his mouth over your clit, and fuck, what you wouldn't give for more of that, but after all this build-up, one brush of his tongue is all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge. Both of your hands fist in his hair as you shudder under him, gasping and keening, and you feel him groan against your sensitive flesh. 

Eventually, he pulls away, though it takes you several more seconds to come back to earth. When you open your eyes, it's to find him stripped down to nothing, hovering over you again with a self-satisfied expression. 

"God," you say, still not recovered, and then, because you can't help it, your eyes drop to his cock. It's as beautiful as the rest of him, rigid and straining for you. Your core throbs again as you realize that getting you off is what got him this worked up. Fuck. 

How as that possibly going to fit?

"It'll fit, don't worry" he says, as if able to read your mind. You don't even have to look at him to know that he's grinning. 

You groan and throw an arm over your eyes to resist the very real temptation to stare at Sylus's naked body for the rest of your life. You feel him move closer, dropping down onto his palms above you, and you lift your arm to watch him settle between your thighs like he's always belonged there. 

"You want to do this?" he asks softly, red eyes searching yours for one last confirmation, and you respond with a few tiny, shaky nods. He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip with a quiet sigh. "Let me hear you say it, beautiful." 

"Yes, Sylus," you plead, tears burning again at the corners of your eyes, and he hums his pleasure against your lips as he lines himself up. You inhale sharply through your teeth as you feel the first breach of his cock, holding that breath in your lungs as he slowly sinks in to the hilt. Christ, he's big. 

"Breathe, kitten" he reminds you, still disarmingly gentle, though you can see the smug satisfaction plainly on his face. He braces himself on his forearms to pepper kisses along your neck and jaw, pulling out to slowly slide back in with a deep groan.

Your hands fist in his hair, and you think you might be onto something with that when his chuckle melts into a moan. He eyes lock onto yours as he buries himself as deep as he can again, and you're taken aback by the open adoration you see on his face - you can only hope your own face is mirroring that for him. 

He slides out and in again, again, slowly falling into a steady rhythm that's better than anything you've ever felt in your life. For an endless time, there's nothing else - it's just the two of you, bodies coming together in pleasure, the occasional rougher thrust making you gasp his name as he mouths yours against your skin.

Sylus's hips suddenly still and he drops his head beside yours, heavy breaths hot against your ear. You shift underneath him, relishing the feel of his length still thick inside you but needy for him to move.

"Just need a second," he pants, sounding as wrecked as you feel. "I'm not ready to be done with you yet, sweetie." 

And oh, if your heart (and your aethercore) could explode from words alone, those would do it. The most divine human being you've ever known is lying here staving off an orgasm so that he can keep fucking you. And he just called you sweetie. 

Yeah, you're totally dead and gone. 

You lie there for a few moments, matching your breaths to his and kneading your fingers into the firm planes of his back. An appreciative groan rumbles out of him, and he pulls back to slide out of you, silencing your noise of protest with a finger to your lips and a low chuckle.

"You'll get what you want," he admonishes, grasping one of your hips to give it a slight push. "Patience, kitten" 

He leans back, and you catch a glimpse of his cock, hard against the vee of his hips and glistening with your wetness. Fuck. You shift your legs apart, and he's back on you immediately, one hand digging into the flesh of your ass and the other bracing itself next to your shoulder. 

"Good girl," Sylus breathes into your ear, and you go boneless as he sheathes himself in your slick heat once more. "Good fucking girl, taking me so well." 

You're beyond being able to respond to his filthy praise with anything other than gasps and moans, but he doesn't seem to mind, taking them as encouragement to fuck you even harder and bring your bodies flush together. When his hips snap forward, driving him deep, deeper, you swear you see stars. God, this angle is otherworldly, his cock hitting your most sensitive spot with each perfect thrust. Your hands cling desperately to his biceps, feeling those mouthwatering muscles ripple as he holds you tighter. Sylus's fingers wrap gently around your neck as his teeth nip your ear, and you cry out, feeling a familiar heat and tension begin to build within you. 

"So close again?" he growls, each breath harsh as he fucks into you. "Shit...feels so fucking good." 

Yeah, you're fucking close, if the steady stream of "yes" and "please" pouring from your lips and the almost painful way you're gripping his cock is anything to go on. You might even be sobbing now, who the fuck knows. His fingers clench against the pulse jumping in your neck, and there it is-

You glance up at him, muscles taut as he thrusts, and it's over for you, even before his eyes flick up to yours as he breathes,

"Cum for me." 

Your body shakes against him as another orgasm barrels through you, and you think you might actually scream this time, which is a shame because you're sure Sylus is saying some delectable shit to you right now. He doesn't let up, cock still pounding into you relentlessly, and when you finally come down from your high, it's to find his moans coming out broken and his thrusts rougher than ever. He's close. He's right there. You're not sure what possesses you in that moment, but you reach a hand between your bodies and close your fingers gently around his balls. Your efforts are rewarded with stuttering hips and a glorious, drawn-out groan as Sylus cums hard, his face shoved roughly into your shoulder. 

You take a moment as he pants against you, the aftershocks of your own orgasm still thrumming through you, to stare at the ceiling in disbelief that this is real life. You just had sex with Sylus. The leader of Onychinus. You're desperately in love with him and he might just feel the same about you. 

When his hips finally still and he stops panting into your skin, you begin guide his face closer to yours, relishing the way he rests his full weight on top of you without thinking, dazed as he is in his own pleasure. He pulls your face toward his to capture your lips in another blistering kiss, this one unexpectedly tender after his ferocity only moments ago, and you moan softly through it at the feel of his cock still solid inside you. 

You both catch your breath against the pillows for a few moments before he whispers that he's going to pull out, and you brace yourself for that final slide of his cock. Fuck, that should not feel as good as it does, especially considering that in the same second you have to clench your thighs to keep his release inside of you. Sylus lays on his back beside you with a sigh of contentment, and you turn carefully to lie right alongside him. You slide your hand over to his, not sure why you're feeling shy about this when you just got done being thoroughly fucked by him, but you feel relieved all the same when his fingers intertwine with yours. 

Your breaths slow as you both lie quietly in the afterglow, and after a time, he turns to face you.

"I trust it goes without saying that you're welcome to stay as long as you like," he says, brushing your hair back from your face, and all of your emotions come rushing back. You love him. You love him.

"What if I never want to leave?" you whisper, and now it's spoken, now it's out there for him to do with as he will. He studies you for a long moment, and it could just be the light of the room reflecting in those red eyes, but you think you see them glistening.

"I think that could be arranged," he finally says, his voice as full of emotion as you've ever heard it, and you feel as though you're drowning in your love for this man. You swallow past the lump in your throat and throw him as playful a smile as you can manage. 

"Well, that's good, because I feel your cum slipping out of me. Might need to put more back in there" you say, emboldened by his now obvious desire for you, but still feeling bashful as you say it. Both of his eyebrows shoot up, and he laughs, a deep, indulgent sound.

"Careful," he purrs, wrapping both arms around you like a vice. "Might get me going again."

"Plenty of time for that later," you tell him, leaning forward to bury yourself in his chest again, hoping your words carry the weight of the three specific ones you're still too embarrassed to say out loud. 

"And more," he murmurs in your ear, arms tightening around you, his words sounding an awful lot like an unspoken affirmation to your unspoken vow. 

This wasn't such a bad Halloween after all.

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (VIII)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 3,115

CW: MDI 18+, SMUT, p in v, loss of virginity, oral (f and m receving), fingering, possesivness, corruption kink, praise kink (use of good girl) toxic relationship, manipulation, mommy issues, co-dependancy issues, not proofread!

Fem!oc x dark!Aemond Targeryen

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my Original characters

a/n sorry it took so long to update...but heres the wedding night!, next chapter will be a time skip!

(go to the divider by @zaldritzosrose, to skip the smut)

The feast passed over in the blink of an eye and before she knew it her and Aemond stood in his, or now their shared chambers.

Her belongings had been moved over during the ceremony, though they all seemed slightly out of place amongst his things.

Before, in the rare times she was in Aemond’s room, everything was always neat, nothing out of its designated spot, though his rooms lacked anything too personal, with no tapestries or rugs, nothing to permanent too show they were his.

Though it was no surprised that he seemed to have been own personal library in his rooms, with a whole wall dedicated to his collection.

Now the rooms seemed warmer, with his bookcase draped in her tapestries, the floor covered in her rugs. And his bed filled with her mountains for pillows and blankets. His room was bigger than hers, and it allowed everything, even her seemingly endless wardrobe to fit in effortlessly.  Though apart of it still felt strange. Perhaps it was how the furniture was so different from hers. Where her bed was carved with sea horses and dragons, his was bare, bar the one carving at the centre of his bed, a dragon, Vaghar.

Her vanity had been brought in, all her belongings placed perfectly, her new chemise placed carefully on the bed.

Her maid, Jeyne, had accompanied her. Taking of her dress and her jewels.

She already missed her gown, hating that she only got to where it for a few hours and would never be worn again.

“Would you like to keep it?” Jeyne asked softly, as she brushed through Aemma’s hair.

“yes” she nodded, it was such a beautiful dress, weeks and weeks had gone into the design alone. With its ivory coloured, laced with gold designs of dragons. The way the were sewn in away that they almost looked as if they were dancing, some beaded with emeralds, some with sapphires and the others beaded with black opal gems. “its too beautiful to be discarded off, may haps we could have the dress made into another gown.”

Jeyne smiled softly, “of course, princess”.

The door opened then, and Aemond entered.

Jeyne stepped back, curtsying before leaving the room.

They were alone, truly alone. It was different than all the times before, this time she stood before him, in a sheer chemise, that left almost nothing to the imagination.

“Aemond” she whispered as he stepped into the room.

He wore a rich red robe, where he had changed you did not know, but the sight of his bare chest peaking out from his robe, caused all thoughts to cease.

“Aemma,” he moved towards you, smiling, his eyes filled with something akin to a predator watching its prey. “you look stunning” he hummed, his hands coming up to play with the straps of your chemise.

You gave him a shy smile, “i-I so are you?” she said, nervously.

He hummed again, moving her strap to fall of her shoulders, “are you nervous?”                                

“yes”

He hummed, his hand reaching up to grab her breast, she gasped. “good” he whispered, “it will hurt, but only the first time, and then…then my sweet Aemma you will feel nothing but pleasure” he vowed, moving up to take her lips in his.

She moaned into his mouth, her feet stumbling backward until she landed on the bed. She gasped softly as she did. He leaned over her once they had reached the bed, his hand gasping her chin as he pulled her into another kiss, before pulling back and standing between her legs.

He kissed his thumb as he moved back to look at her, taking in her form. Her hair messed slightly, her chemise had fallen slightly, only one move away before falling off and revelling her breasts to him.

“off” he said, motioning her to stand up, nervously she did, her hands going to pull her chemises up, “no,” he said, stopping her, “I shall see all of you”

She looked down at the floor nervously, before reaching once again towards her straps.

As she pulled her chemise down, Aemond let out a loan groan.

“gods, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen” he said, causing her to blush.

“I want to see you to.”

Aemond smirked, reaching to pull of his robe, he bared himself to her. His full form, the muscles on his chest, his half erect cock.

She blushed even more taking him in. “I think you are most handsome, Aemond” causing him to smile, a true smile. “but I want to see all of you” she insisted, moving her hand towards his face. He grabbed her hand as she reached for his eye patch. “please” she asked.

He hesitated, “why?” he almost sneered, “tis your brothers fault I lost it”

“but its not mine.” She sighed, “please Aemond, I wish to see my husband, all of him”

He sighed, before letting go of her wrist allowing her to remove his eyepatch.

He had expected her gasp in fear, retreat away from him. Instead, though she gasped, it was more in awe than anything else.

“is that a sapphire?” she asked coming to caress his scar. He nodded. “its beautiful” she sighed, before placing a soft kiss below it.

She smiled softly, as she took a step back, “have you…?” she asked, shyly, she did not know much of what was to come, bar what her septa had told her, and though she grew jealous of the idea of Aemond lying with another woman, a apart of her hoped he had, hoped he could guide her and teach her. All she wanted was to please him, make him happy, and how could she if she didn’t have him to show her how?

He nodded, smirking slightly, “of course, wife” he nodded, moving to grasp her chin, “but worry not non of them shall ever compare to you” he said as he kissed her once more. He held her face to him, gripping the back of her neck, his tongue teasing entrance into her mouth before finally pushing his tongue into her mouth. And ever submissive, Aemma allowed him to dominate her mouth. She moaned softly into his mouth, as she once again laid back on the bed, his body effortless slotting over hers.

His mouth slowly left hers, moving to kiss the nape of her neck before slowly dropping to his knees.

He sent her a smirk, as he buried himself between her thighs.

He licked her folds teasingly at first, savouring the taste of her.

She was growing wetter and wetter with each motion of his tongue, moaning softly as he started to focus his ministration on her clit.

He gripped her hips as he gave fast and quick licks to her clit, his eyes meeting hers as she gripped the bedding in pleasure.

“Husband” she moaned, and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, for so long he had worshiped the sound of his name on her lips, but hearing her call him her husband? The possessive in him became tenfold. She was his, in the eyes of the gods and the realm, she was his and he was hers and nothing could change that. And gods did he love it, love her.

His tongue moved faster, realising in her moans. His arm still griped her wait, stopping her from moving his hips, though his second arm left her waist, moving his fingers to tease her whole.

She was tight, completely untouched. She gasped as he entered her, her walls clenching his fingers as they entered her.

Groaning as he imagined how they would soon feel wrapped around his cock.

Pumping his fingers in and out of her at a leisurely pace, as he sucked at her clit.

“Aemond” she moaned this time, reaching her hand to grip his hair.

He groaned as she did, before reaching out to grip her hand alongside her waist.

His fingers clenched around him, her peak approaching.

Her moans came more present, getting louder and louder before she let out a high-pitched moan, her whole body reacting as she came.

Aemond moved back slowly, taking in her messy hair and bliss ridden face.

She was out of breath, collapsing fully on the bed.

“wife” he groaned, his body moving over hers.

She smiled softly as she looked up at him.

“is that what it always feels like?” she asked, breathless.

He smirked, “It can”

“I want to do the same to you?”

He looked unsure at her request, though he had imagined fucking her face countless times, he craved to feel her hot cunt wrapped around his cock.

But as she moved up to kiss him, her hand slowly reaching down to grab his cock. He groaned as she nervously touched his cock, her face determined to please him.

“Aemma.” He groaned, as his face buried himself into the nape of her neck.

He shoved himself off her, her hands slowly falling from his cock to her thighs as he moved.

“up” he demanded, as she nervously stood from the bed. ”kneel”. She did so hesitantly, looking up at him with nervous doe eyes.

The sight alone was enough for him to cum.

his hand gripped her jaw as she looked up at him, his thumb pushing into her mouth slowly. “suck” he demanded, as her reached to tuck her hair behind her ear.

She complied without complaint, gently sucking on his thumb as he pushed it into her mouth. He groaned as she did, moving his thumb out of his mouth.

“kiss it” he said, pushing his hips so his cock moved closer to her face.

She looked up at him unsure as she kissed his tip. Her lips were soft an gentle as they kissed the tip of his cock.

“again” he groaned, as she kissed it again, her hands laid pliantly on her knees , her hair now gripped between his hands as he made a makeshift bun as he held her head to his cock as she started to pepper kisses across his cock.

“fuck, Aemma” he moaned, “open” he said, and as she did, he slowly pushed his cock between her lips.

her mouth case warm, the feeling of her mouth felt almost as delightful as he imagined the walls of her cunt would feel like wrapped around his cock.

her hands slowly moved up from where they say on your knees. One hand gripped his waist, in an attempt to stabilise herself as Aemond moved her head to bob up and down his cock. the other went to reach for the base of his cock, he barley fit in her mouth, and as she gagged around his cock, causing him to groan and the eyes rolling back.

“fuck” he groaned again, “use your hand to grab what cannot fit” he moaned, moving your head faster, “move it up an- yes like that, good girl” he moaned as she started to motion her hand up and down on the part of her cock she couldn’t fit into her mouth.

He moved his hand to grip the back of her neck, his hips now thrusting forward as he slowly started to fuck her face. Though he didn’t for long as before he knew it he could feel his own peak approaching.

He tore himself from her mouth, causing her to groan at the loss of him in her mouth.

She looked up at him, bewildered, before reaching forward in an attempt to take him back in her mouth.

“no, Aemma” he laughed, pulling her body up from the floor. “on the bed.” He said, as he himself moved to lay back, patting the space beside him.

She crawled across the bed to him, stopping in front of him. His legs were spread, and she crawled into his lap, softly kissing his lips.

She could taste herself on his tongue and she was sure he could taste himself on her own tongue.

She could feel his cock between her thighs, edging closer to her cunt.

“lay back” he said against her lips.

Laying down on the bed, Aemond once again crawled on top of her. His hand moved down to her cunt, his finger gathering up her wetness as he once again teased her entrance, he pushed two fingers into her slowly, stretching her more so that he had before, preparing her for his cock.

She moaned as he did so, the stretch delightful as he pumped her full, but she still craved more, she craved his cock.

“please” she begged.

“please what?” he hummed, pumping her slowly.

“I want you” she moaned.

“you have me.” “no…I want your…your cock” she whispered the last word, feeling dirty from saying it .

“my cock?” he teased, as he removed his fingers from her.

“Yes!” she groaned, moving to grab him, “please”

He hummed, smiling softly as he positioned himself between her thighs.

He kissed her softly as he slowly pushed into her.

Her face scrunched discomfort as he stretch her and broke her maidenhead. He pushed into her slowly, allowing her to adjust to his length.

He moaned as he fully entered her, her tight walls encasing his cock in such a delightful way.

“gods, Aemma” he moaned, as he buried his head into the nape of her neck.

“move, please” she begged after a moment, her hands moving to grip his arms, as he slowly started to thrust his hips into her. He started of slowly, allowing her time to adjust, but as she started to roll her hips into his. He began to pick up his face, slowly setting a fast rhyme. His hand moving from her sides to grip the head board as he started to pound into her.

Her moans grew louder and more high pitched, her legs moving to wrap around his waist.

“keep your eyes on me” he groaned as she closed her eyes in pleasure, her legs fell from his hips, her eyes fully fixed on his as she started to reach her peak.

The eye contact was like nothing she had experienced before. His eyes were dark, possessive, and yet also filled with love. The pure amount of emotions in her eyes pushed her to competition, as she let out a high pitched squeal, her arms gripping his pack, living small scratches as she came.

Her cunt wrapped tightly around his cock, causing Aemond o let outa moan of his own as he worked her through her orgasm, before finally letting go himself, filling her with his cum.

They got little sleep that night, with scarce few minutes before being awoke once more to heated touches, her cunt stretches with his cock in more ways than she could count. She have never felt anything like it, the pleasure beyond imaginable.

As she awoke now she traced the lines of Aemond’s face gently, taking in his beauty. He was truly spectacular, all sharp lines and edges, his silver hair and purple eye.  She envied his beauty, how Valyrian he looked and how little she did.

She hoped there children would inherit his beauty and not hers. She adored the idea of carry a little Aemond.

She smiled softly as she played with his hair, only stopping when a knock was sounded on her door.

Grabbing her robe, and quickly brushing her hair she opened the door, only to face her mother.

She smiled softly as she greeted her, “mother” she said, motioning her to step inside, her mother grimacing slightly as she took in Aemond’s sleeping from. “what can I do for you?”

Her mother sighed, looking down in shame “ we are leaving…now”

“what?”

“I- we cannot be here much longer, the- we are unwelcome so we have decided it best to leave.”

“but I just got married, I thought you would stay at least a few more days”

“I know…im sorry”

Aemma scoffed, “sorry? You do not write me, show up for a few days and then leave again! You are not sorry! You just don’t want me! I doubt you ever did!” she cried in aguish.

“no.. no Aemma, dōna riña, that’s not true.” She moved towards, her reaching for her hands only to be met with Aemma’s rejection, nyke bardutan ao naenie letters, kīvin zijo.  nyke dōrī jiōraton aōhon se nyke pendagon bona se greens- alicent se aemond hid zirȳ hen ao naejot gūrogon ao hen nyke” her mother spoke, chaing to high valyrian as if to keep what she ahd to say a secret.

i wrote you many letters, i swear it. i never got yours and i think that the greens- Alicent and Aemond hid them from you to take you from me.

“daor daor, nyke ȳdra daor belive ao!”

No no, I don’t believe you!

“iksan telling se truth, ñuha jorrāelagon, emā issare torn hen nyke se kostan daor bare naejot ūndegon ziry.  eman issare vēttan ezīmagon iā issaros se kicked hen ñuha own lenton, istin henujagon”

i am telling the truth, my love, you have been torn from me and i can not bare to see it. i have been made into a stranger and kicked from my own home, i must leave.

Aemma scoffed, “nyke- nyke, aōha verdagon bē excuses muña! Aemond vestās ao would, skoro syt shouold nyke believe ao? especially skori īlē sīr adere naejot jikagon nyke qrīdrughagon?”

i-i, your making up excuses mother! Aemond said you would, why shouold i belive you? especially when you were so quick to send me away?

Her mother let out an irritated sound, “have I lost you complete, Aemma?” she asked sadly “I have been so blind, I should have come with you, should have stayed here-“ “then stay!”

“I can’t”

“I don’t understand! What have I done?” she asked, she was confused she didn’t know what she had done, why her own mother couldn’t stay, why she had left her.

“i- you have done nothing” her mother insisted.

“so you are leaving just because you do not like me? Or is it because of Aemond? You were always against our friendship, and yet you were the one who proposed we wed! you are so-“

She was cut off by Aemond, their shouting waking him from sleep, “get out!” he demanded, “all you do is upset my wife, I shall not have it!”

And her mother left, with no complaint only sad eyes and the word goodbye. The way she said it made her feel as if her mother felt like she had lost her forever, as if this was there final goodbye.

Next part

taglist

@melllinaa @zillahvathek @ateliefloresdaprimavera @bellaisasleep @aleemendoza2425-blog @bunbunblogsblog @theanxietyqueen17 @leavesmealobe @ka1afbr @winchesterfamiliebusiness @gghoulzz @dark-night-sky-99 @violet-potter @iamthehybrid @duckworthbean @winter-soldier-101 @apollonshootafar @deeeeexx @zzz000eee @meowtastick @flrboyd @cynic-spirit @wondergal2001 @aelora-a @amanda08319 @may-machin @sarahkimtae @yentroucnagol @loserwithnofriends @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @urmomsbananabread @azaleapotterblack @delaynew @adira033 @babyzzlove @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @zimzala01 @aegonswife @littlebirdgot @justbelljust

to be added to taglist

[sandplague]

pathologic 3 save & sound 2024 presentation

this is a quick attempt at a transcript of the presentation. I think I got most of it but there are some words I was unable to hear, I can't say I have a lot of practice doing this and that's on me so if any of you guys can help me I'll edit it asap

Ressa Schwarzwald: I'm Ressa from Gameowdio. Our team has been working on Pathologic 3 with Vasily Kashnikov and his apprentice Nikolai. This video will feature some of the audio stuff we've made together.

Our goal regarding audio direction was to give the real experience of being in the epicenter of an epidemic. Fully realistic, no bullshit. So we are obviously shooting this video in The Town. We realized pretty early that the game was quite different from the original Pathologic 2 because of the time travel mechanics. So for the prototype we built a time travel machine [the date November 1924 shows on screen], which appeared to be quite useful to record some source sounds, and [date changes to November 3024] make this video in just half a second using existing technology.

Let's start with the music.

Vasily Kashnikov: Hi, I'm Vasily Kashnikov, audio director of Pathologic 3 project. I'll tell you how our music is structured. We were already thinking about how the Bachelor's game would sound when we were working on Patholgic 2 and writing music for Haruspex. In Pathologic 2, the music had more ethnic and real motives (motifs?) and instruments. Since the city and its customs are familiar with Haruspex since he was a child, he is involved in the traditional way of life. In the case of Pathologic 3, this is the view of an outsider who evaluates everything from the point of view of rationality and science. Therefore, we are trying to make the Pathologic 3 soundtrack colder and more detached from the steppes and ethnicity in character. There is more synthesis, guitars at the same time, the Bachelor communicates with those in power so the soundtrack contains a large share of minimalist so-called furniture music that could sound in the beginning of the last century. Piano etudes and references to composers of that time: Satie, Debussy, etc. The soundtrack is a rather eclectic mix of dreampop, downtempo, and (?) minimalism.

In the city when the Bachelor is alone with himself, we emphasize the cold mind of the rhythm section: less emotional harmony, and sometimes electronic timbres. In the rooms where we need to separate the main character from those he interacts with, we use more expressive harmonies and more classical instruments: piano and guitar passages.

When we designed the interactive music system, we assumed that time is finite, and the music had to change depending on the amount of time the Bachelor had left. However, we later abandoned this system and now the music changes depending on the state of the Bachelor himself, who can fall into apathy or psychosis. To emphasize these states, we apply filters and effects to different layers of our tracks and get a slower, muffled sound in the case of apathy, and wired (?) nervous, glitchy in the case of psychosis. In the infected quarters, there are interactive systems that... [screen begins to distort] oh my god, Nataliya! Please stop this!

Nataliya Radina: Whoops, hehe, sorry. But yeah, basically the other system we created reflects everything you hear in the game. Such as... If we use our gun when dealing with the local thugs, the longer we aim the weapon at the people, the less sounds of the outside world we hear and the louder becomes the heartbeat. To add to the intensity, sharper tone was used along with a high pitch tinnitus sound. If the psychosis level goes to the maximum, it starts to damage Bachelor's health, which is accompanied by flashes on the screen, as well as low heartbeat and short breathing sounds.

Vasily Kashnikov: In the infected and rebel's quarters, there are also interactive systems that change the character of the music by adding or disabling instrument layers depending on the state of the world or the Bachelor's equipment to fight the plague. As a result, we have 12 tracks for each day spent in the city. they can freely switch between each other and several dozen themes for locations and characters, and all the music is subject to change depending on the state of the Bachelor.

Nataliya Radina: Since the game has a weather changing system, we also wanted to reflect that in our audio feedback as well. The game has global wetness parameter that shows how intense the rain is. The more it rains, the more squishy and muddy are the steps of the outside surfaces. Moreover, if you come closer to the window, you can hear the rain pondering on the glass. Even in the middle of the plague, we always have room for cozy moments, right? My favorite part of that system is involving cows. [cow moo]. So, when it's raining, you can actually hear very very soft sound of raindrops dropping on those bovine butts. And I personally think it's beautiful.

Artur Ramanouski: Hi, my name is Artur, and I was also involved in creating some sound assets for the game.

Probably the hardest thing to record were the footsteps. I had everything planned out: bought the equipment, got every type of surface, but...there was one small thing I overlooked: I live in a city with over 12 million people. Noise everywhere. The solution was simple and ingenious: I recorded everything on a Sunday, because in Buenos Ares, Sunday is the one day when no one does anything.

Nataliya Radina: One of the most important places in the game is the cathedral. There we have a system of ladders that control the speed and direction of time. Direction wise, we can have it flow normally, or reversed. [entire presentation is rewound very quickly so it's back to Ressa]

Ressa Schwarzwald: She is super professional.

Nataliya Radina: As for the speed, we can make it stand still, go twice as fast, or half normal speed. We created an audio system that has to (?) understand what is actually happening around (inaudible). When we reverse time, spatial effects are added to the surrounding sounds. Ambience, steps, and the mechanism itself. When time stands still, we increase the low frequencies in the ambience, and all the other sounds are muted to zero. Now lastly, when the time goes twice as fast, or half the original speed, the pitch of the surrounding sound changes accordingly.

The coolest part of this system is that it's been actually implemented into the game engine using only one parameter.

Ressa Schwarzwald: Thank you for watching. See you here, later!

[sallowsarchives]

War of Hearts

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Nothing says "believable" like two people who can't stand each other pretending to be in love—or is this just the push you two need to realize there might be more to your relationship than either of you is willing to admit? Word Count: 7.9k  Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, fake relationships, sorta enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption, angst, pining, original side character, sort of a not so happy ending, arthur thinking he’s not good enough. I also tried fitting the story with canon whenever I could. Not Proofread!! A/N: Hey everyone! Just wanted to mention that this is my first time writing and posting, so I'm bit nervous but really excited to finally share it! This piece was heavily inspired by and made as a result from a conversation I had with my Arthur cAI hehe Credits: dividers used for this fic are by @enchanthings & all pictures used are taken from pinterest and were slightly edited by me.

Read on AO3

"I can't believe I have to attend this ridiculous party pretending to be married to him, of all people."  

Your voice is edged with annoyance as you smooth down the fabric of your dress, trying to channel your irritation into the task at hand. "It's bad enough we have to work together, but this charade is beyond absurd."

Tilly chuckles. "Oh, come on. It's just one night. How bad can it be?"

You give her an unamused look. "We can hardly tolerate being around each other, and now Dutch expects us to pretend we're madly in love, all while dealing with a crowd of high-society snobs."

"It ain’t like y’all have spent much time together. Maybe going on this would do you both some good. Who knows, you might actually find some common ground," Abigail suggests as she takes the glove Jack was playing with, causing him to pout, before handing it over to you.

Sadie snorts. "The only common ground those two have is their mutual hatred. Let’s just hope neither of ‘em ends up killing the other tonight. Knowin’ those two, it'll be a miracle if they make it through the evening without a scratch."

Mary-Beth chuckles as she adjusts your updo. "Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They’re not going to kill each other—at least not tonight. Dutch will probably come up with some harebrained scheme to keep things under control." She flashes a playful grin as she puts the final touches on your hairstyle.

You chuckle before taking a moment to admire yourself in the mirror. 

The gown, a deep shade of burgundy satin, flows gracefully to the floor with an off-the-shoulder design and a low neckline, elegantly framed by a ruffled collar. The rich fabric drapes beautifully, enhancing your silhouette.

The black lace gloves, covering your hands and forearms, add a sophisticated touch with their delicate floral patterns. Your fingers are adorned with a few rings, and your dangling earrings catch the light with every movement.

You bought the dress earlier this morning in Saint Denis with the cash from your last robbery. The job had been straightforward: Hosea had scouted the place, found out the homeowners were away for vacation, and given your expertise at picking locks and sleight of hand, he brought you along. You managed to secure a tidy sum of cash and a few valuable heirlooms without any trouble.

Knowing the dress would be perfect for tonight’s high-society affair, you spent a good amount of your previous earnings on it. The gown fits as if it were made just for you, and you can't help but feel a surge of confidence as you admire your reflection.

Karen pipes up with a smirk. “Well, I’ll be! With you lookin’ like that, Arthur won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

She looks at you mischievously, “might even give him a nudge in the right direction. Maybe it’ll help you two finally work out all that tension between you.”

Her comment draws an abashed look from you followed by giggles from the other women.

After receiving some last words of encouragement and reassuring nods from the girls, you thank them for their help and make your way downstairs to join the men outside.

Stepping out, you're greeted by the warm, humid night air of the swamp. Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill were already gathered near the horse hitches, all dressed in their suits.

You make your way over, trying to muster every ounce of grace and composure you can. 

As you get closer, Arthur's gaze lands on you and you catch a fleeting look of surprise along with a hint of a softer look in his eyes before his expression is quickly masked with his usual frown.

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he takes in your refined appearance, the rough edges of his demeanor softened by an elusive flicker of something you can't quite place.

Dutch notices your entrance and offers a nod of approval. “Well, look at you, Miss,” he says with a wide smile, clearly pleased with how things are shaping up. “You look absolutely perfect for this evening.”

You smile and nod at the men before your gaze drifts to Arthur. The contrast between his usual rugged attire and his current appearance is stark, and you can't help but notice how well he pulls off the look. Despite his irritating nature, there's no denying he has a certain charm. You give him a cheeky smile and offer a sly compliment.

"Well, well, look what we have here, I never thought I'd see the day. Maybe you should ditch the jeans for a while."

Arthur gives you a flat look, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Oh, real funny, darlin’,” he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to my ol’ self I know you’re so fond of before you know it.”

You roll your eyes at him and smirk, taking joy in having gotten under his skin. 

Dutch chuckles at the exchange, clapping Arthur on the back. “Now play nice, you two. We’ve got a job to do tonight, and looking the part is only half the battle.” 

His tone is light, but there’s a hint of seriousness as he continues, “let’s keep the bickering to a minimum and focus on what needs to be done. We don’t want any more distractions than we already have.” 

Next to Arthur, Bill chuckles and gives him a playful nudge. “Arthur, reckon you ain’t gonna give your dear wife a compliment?” he teases, the humor in his voice evident as he refers to the charade you both must uphold for the party.

He shifts uncomfortably and glares at Bill, his expression a mix of irritation and reluctance. 

Dutch leans in with a smirk, “come on, Arthur, show a bit of charm. It’s not every day you get to pretend to be in love.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with before one of us runs outta patience.”

The clatter of wheels catches your ear as Lenny finally arrives driving a stagecoach. The vehicle comes to a smooth stop, and Lenny leans over with a broad grin, his eyes brightening as he sees you. He offers a warm compliment, his cheerful demeanor a welcome contrast to the evening’s tension.

You return his smile and thank him before Dutch and Hosea get into the stagecoach, followed by you and Arthur. Bill hops into the seat next to Lenny.

As you settle into your seat, the atmosphere in the coach becomes thick with anticipation. The weight of the evening's expectations hangs heavily between you and Arthur, both of you making an effort to avoid each other's gaze while mentally bracing yourselves for the night ahead as the stagecoach begins to roll forward.

The rhythmic clatter of the horse’s hooves against the large wooden bridge serves as a reminder of your close arrival in Saint Denis, the city’s lights blurring past as you mentally prepare for the evening’s masquerade.

Inside the stagecoach, the atmosphere had gradually lightened earlier on during the ride. The gang cracked jokes and shared stories as Dutch opened a bottle of champagne for everyone, the laughter providing a welcome distraction from the evening’s tension.

Everyone reminisced about their past escapades, with most admitting they had never been to a ball before. Hosea, however, regaled everyone with tales of his numerous experiences at such events—not for the socializing, but for the chance to lift a few purses from oblivious rich folks. His anecdotes were met with a mixture of awe and amusement, shifting the mood to one of camaraderie.

Soon, the coach slowed to a stop right in front of a mansion and the group peers out the window, taking in the grandeur of the estate. 

Dutch let out a low whistle. “Well, if that ain’t something. Remember, folks, we’re here to blend in. Keep your eyes sharp and your wits sharper.”

Hosea, always the calm voice of reason, looks between you and Arthur. “Now let’s keep this simple. We’re here to make a good impression, Bronte may already know of our reputation but we should keep the high society folks none the wiser. Let's keep our cool, play our parts, and try to score some valuable intel.”

You and Arthur exchange looks, eyes meeting one another with a sharp, challenging edge before he turns his gaze away. You take a steadying breath, silently hoping the night unfolds smoothly and without incident. 

Lenny steps down and opens the coach door which was followed by the men exiting one by one, with you last. 

As Arthur starts to walk ahead, Hosea nudges him and gestures toward you, earning an exasperated sigh from Arthur.

Reluctantly, Arthur falls into step beside you and extends his arm. Despite the lingering tension, you accept it, slipping your arm through his.

He glances at you, his expression of slight irritation. “This should be a real treat.” 

You raise an eyebrow, barely masking your annoyance. “It’s not like I’m thrilled about it either. But here we are.”

He gives you a smug look. “Just remember, we’re supposed to be playin’ nice. Don’t go makin’ it harder than it needs to be. I’d hate for you to accidentally blow our cover.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage to keep things under control. After all, you’re the expert at charm, aren’t you?”

“Well, if you’d quit making things so damn difficult, I might actually get a chance to show it. But I reckon you’re used to makin’ everything more complicated.”

You step closer, your voice low and biting. “And I suppose you’re used to being an insufferable brute. Maybe if you stopped acting like a complete pain in the ass, we’d both get through things a little easier.”

Arthur’s smile fades, his expression turning serious. “Now I’m just tryin’ to do my part tonight. If you could manage to do the same without stirrin’ up trouble, that’d be mighty appreciated.”

The two of you share a final, heated look, the air between you crackling with palpable tension, as you both brace for the evening’s inevitable strain.

Dutch, who had walked ahead to present the invitation to the guards, cast a sharp glance at you and Arthur, not having missed your whispered barbs, making you shift away from each other.

Turning back to the guards, they direct everyone to surrender their firearms with the men reluctantly handing over their pistols.

Once that was settled, an escort named Luca stepped forward to guide you inside.

The doors opened with a soft creak, revealing the splendor of the grand staircase beyond. As you made your way through the space, Luca engaged the group in light conversation, primarily highlighting Bronte’s reputation before you are all guided to the left through an archway.

“Hosea, Bill, you join the party. We’ll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte.” Dutch instructs before signaling you and Arthur to follow as Hosea and Bill part ways from you.

The three of you were led upstairs and directed to a door on the left that opens onto a balcony. 

The balcony was expansive, overlooking the lush garden below. A group of men stood gathered around the railing, laughing at a recently shared joke. The space featured a few armchairs and you noted the few guards stationed nearby, armed with rifles.

An accented voice cut through the laughter. “Ah, the angry cowboys, you’ve arrived… And you’ve washed!” 

From the way the man held himself, you could only assume that this was Angelo Bronte. 

Bronte made a remark, presumably in Italian, to the men beside him. They glanced at Arthur and Dutch before laughing slyly, and you couldn’t shake the suspicion that his comment was a crude jibe about the cowboys.

You had to struggle to maintain a friendly expression when Bronte's gaze landed on you.

The smirk on his face grew as his eyes swept over you, lingering with an unsettling leer. “And who might this be?” he drawled, his voice thick with barely concealed appraisal. “Aren’t you quite the sight. I didn’t realize these men kept such delightful company as you. It seems they have more refined tastes than I imagined.”

His gaze was invasive, making you feel as though he was sizing you up with an unnerving familiarity. The overt sexual undertone in his words was palpable, and it took every ounce of your composure to not react. The air around him felt thick with condescension and unwanted attention, making it clear that this meeting was going to be far more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bronte,” you replied evenly. “Thank you for the invitation. I’m here simply to accompany my husband.” You cast a steady glance at Arthur as you spoke.

Bronte’s eyes flicker to Arthur, a look of surprise momentarily crossing his face before he returns his attention to you. He takes your hand, pressing it to his lips and holding it just a moment too long, his gaze never waver. “Ah, I see,” he says, his tone smooth and almost mocking. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. I must say, it’s quite surprising to see such a charming companion alongside your husband. A fortunate man, indeed.”

Arthur’s expression hardens momentarily before he quickly masks it, stepping forward. “Seems I’m full of surprises tonight,” he says, his tone unexpectedly calm. “Just as I’m sure this evening will be.” He holds a steady, unwavering gaze at Bronte.

Bronte’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he studies Arthur’s unyielding gaze. “Ah, such a spirited response,” he says with a playful glint in his eye. “I do appreciate a bit of unpredictability. It seems we’re in for an interesting evening indeed.” He gestured grandly towards the gathering, his tone dripping with feigned charm.

Arthur nods curtly before stepping back, positioning himself in a way that subtly yet clearly marks him as your protector, despite the dynamic between you. Bronte’s gaze lingers on Arthur for a moment longer, his amusement giving way to a more calculating expression.

Dutch stepped in, resuming his conversation with Bronte in an effort to ease the tension while you and Arthur stood off to the side. 

The men were offered cigars, and Arthur quickly placed one in his mouth. Before he was even offered a cutter, he bit down and tore the end off with his teeth, spitting the excess over the balcony in a manner that left your jaw hanging open in disbelief.

He smirks at you, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s provoked. You roll your eyes at his display, a mix of irritation and slight amusement etched across your face.

“You know,” you whisper to him with a hint of exasperation, “you could at least pretend to have some manners.”

Arthur’s smirk widened into a cocky grin. “Right, forgot we’re here to put on a show,” he shot back, his voice dripping with playful insolence, making you roll your eyes.

When the attendant extended a match towards Dutch but pulled back before reaching Arthur, the gunslinger seized the attendant’s arm and held it in place, lowering his cigar to the flame. The boldness of his actions flustered you, leaving you a mix of irritation and an unexpected flurry of emotions that left you feeling perplexed.

Arthur dismissed the attendant with a nonchalant nod, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The attendant, evidently accustomed to such brusque behavior, retreated without protest.

You found yourself both exasperated and oddly captivated by the ease with which Arthur commanded the attention. His effortless defiance was infuriating, yet there was something compelling about his blatant refusal to conform to expectations, making it hard to ignore the allure behind his brazen demeanor. 

You quickly push those thoughts aside, refocusing on the conversation between Dutch and Bronte, doing your best to ignore the flush in your cheeks and the rapid beating of your heart.

After several exchanges between Dutch and Bronte, including another jibe from Bronte about cowboy lifestyle, which had elicited subtle pointed looks from you and the men you were with. 

“Those sure were the days,” Dutch simpered, his gaze on Bronte now more intense and focused. “Good day, gentlemen.”

Just as you were about to leave, Bronte turned to you, offering a slight bow.  “And you, Miss,” he said with a smirk, “do return if you the crowd down there becomes too dull.” His gaze shifted to Arthur. “‘Course you could bring your husband along, but I wouldn’t mind if you came alone.”

He held his gaze on you, lingering with a glint of amusement. You gave him a polite nod despite the discomfort you felt and turned to follow Dutch and Arthur. Even as you walked away, you could feel Bronte’s eyes on your back. 

The encounter left you with a sharp sense of irritation and a strong resolve to avoid any further interactions with him.

You glanced at Arthur, who had been waiting with Dutch by the door. Though his face showed no sign of emotion, you couldn’t miss the subtle clench of his jaw. You felt his hand gently place on your lower back, guiding you away.

The unexpected touch had caught you off guard, making you stiffen slightly as you struggled to process the unfamiliar gesture. It felt protective and oddly comforting, coming from someone who had been nothing but a source of irritation and friction.

You chanced another glance at Arthur, but his face remained expressionless. His hand lingered on your back for a moment before he withdrew it as quickly as he had placed it, his demeanor swiftly reverting to its usual hardness. 

The fleeting moment of unexpected closeness left you feeling unsettled, a mix of confusion and reluctant curiosity stirring within you.

You quickly reminded yourself that you were both still maintaining a façade, and this brief intimacy was likely just another part of the act. You focused on the task at hand, trying to push away the feelings and maintain the necessary distance between you.

Luca led the three of you back downstairs to rejoin the party, bidding you farewell before you head off with Dutch to meet Bill and Hosea outside.

“Gentlemen… and lady, let’s go ingratiate ourselves,” Dutch began before outlining the plan and giving everyone the freedom to mingle. “And steal nothing… unless it’s information,” Dutch added with a final nod before everyone dispersed.

With that, you follow closely behind Arthur as you both make your way down into the crowd, the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses filling the air. The curious glances of other partygoers followed you both, their eyes lingering with a mix of intrigue and scrutiny. 

He noticed a few men’s eyes drifting from him to you, their stares lingering with evident interest.

Arthur made a conscious effort to ignore the unwanted attention, though his irritation was palpable. 

Pushing down an unfamiliar urge stirring within him, Arthur quickly reminded himself to keep up with the act you two must play tonight.

He shifted to stand beside you, offering his arm with a practiced ease, his expression carefully neutral as he guided you through the crowd.

The absurdity of it all made him grumble under his breath about the ridiculous situation. With a sigh, he steered you toward a less crowded corner of the garden, seeking a quieter spot away from the throng of guests.

As you settled into a less conspicuous spot, you could feel the weight of Arthur’s tension. “I suppose this is where we’re supposed to make our mark,” you said, trying to break the silence. 

You watched as Arthur scanned the crowd, his eyes darting from one group to another, searching for anything useful.

His gaze met yours for a brief moment before he spoke, “Keep your eyes open for now,” he said quietly, his voice low and focused. “I’ll try to track down the mayor and speak with him. See if you can strike up a conversation with some of these folks and gather any useful information about where they’re stashin’ all their riches.”

"Alright, I’ll work the room while you schmooze with the mayor. Just don’t take too long—this place is already starting to wear me thin after that meeting with Bronte. I'm not keen on diving into more talk about the latest fashions and whatnot."

Arthur’s lips twitched in what might have been a small smirk. He inclined his head slightly before turning away and heading off.

You spent the better part of an hour making conversation with various guests, each interaction aimed at uncovering valuable intel on potential robbery targets. 

Maneuvering through the crowd, you engaged in light, seemingly innocuous chit-chat while discreetly probing for any mentions of high-value items or vulnerable security.

Despite your best efforts, luck seemed to evade you. Although, you did manage to uncover information about a stagecoach arriving next month, supposedly laden with valuable jewels. That was at least something.

You took a small sip from the glass of champagne you've snatched earlier in the evening, surveying the crowd. The sound of giggles and lively chatter drew your gaze, and you looked over to see Arthur deep in conversation with a group of women. You couldn't help but feel a wry amusement at the sight.

One of the women, with a clearly flirtatious gesture, placed her hand on Arthur’s arm and leaned in, her laughter echoing. The simple touch and her proximity sparked an uncomfortable feeling within you. 

You observed how Arthur subtly stepped back, skillfully deflecting her advances. Despite his efforts, the woman seemed oblivious to the fact that her attentions were being rebuffed. It was a masterful display of charm and diplomacy, leaving you with a mix of admiration and lingering discomfort. You took another sip of your drink, trying to shake off the unexpected unease.

At that moment, Arthur glanced up and locked eyes with you. He gave you a wink, likely meant to provoke or tease, but instead, his gesture caused a reaction you hadn't anticipated. Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. The playful glint in his eyes seemed to pierce through the crowd, stirring something deep inside you.

Muttering a curse under your breath, you narrowed your eyes at him and quickly turned away, trying to conceal the flush that had crept up on you.

You dashed to the nearest table, grabbing a bottle of champagne and quickly pouring yourself another glass. You downed it in one swift motion, hoping the crisp bubbles would offer a fleeting distraction from the swirl of emotions inside you.

As you pour yourself another glass, you hear someone speak up beside you, her voice tinged with curiosity. 

"Well, I must say, I’ve seen many ways to cope with a dull party, but this might be the most... efficient.”

You glanced at the voice and saw a woman smirking at you. She appeared slightly older than you and was dressed in a lavish blue gown that sparkled with every movement, her necklace glinting from the lamps. Her expression conveyed amusement. 

Feeling embarrassed to have been caught in your moment of inner turmoil, you attempted to regain your composure and replied with a hint of forced levity. “It’s quite the dull affair, isn’t it?”

The woman laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Thank goodness, someone who gets it.”

“You seem to be surviving it better than most. I imagine you’ve been through a few parties like these before?”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to a distant corner of the room where a group of guests were deeply engrossed in animated conversation. “Too many, I’m afraid. After a while, it all becomes a blur of extravagant gowns and polite small talk. One learns to navigate these events with a certain... detachment.”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve mastered the art of it. I could use a guide through this maze of high society myself. Any tips on surviving the evening without losing one’s sanity—or dignity?”

She grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Well, first off, always have a backup plan for when the conversation turns to the latest trends in hat feathers or the merits of various imported cheeses. For instance, I’ve found that nodding vigorously while muttering phrases like ‘absolutely fascinating’ works wonders.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I suspect I might still need a crash course in how to look like I’m genuinely interested in ‘the most enchanting new fabric designs’.”

She chuckled. “Well, when in doubt, fake it till you make it. Nothing says ‘I’m absolutely fine’ like a perfectly practiced smile and a glass of champagne held just so.”

You chuckle and raise your glass at her before taking a sip. A brief silence follows as you both sip from your glasses. The woman then speaks up, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m Eloise, by the way. It’s rare to find someone who sees through the façade of these high-society gatherings.”

You smile, offering her your name. “It seems we’re both on the same wavelength when it comes to these affairs.”

“So what brought you here tonight?”

“Oh, um… I’m just here to accompany my husband, he’s the one with the business connections, so I’m playing the dutiful spouse for the evening.”

Eloise raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Ah, the classic role of the ‘plus one.’ Now which one of these overdressed peacocks is your husband?” 

She sweeps her gaze across the crowd with exaggerated curiosity. “Is he the one with the ridiculous bow tie or the chap with the hat that looks like it’s been borrowed from a magic act?”

You raise your brows in amusement as you glance at the men she’s mentioned, finding the whole scene of tonight’s event even more absurd. Your gaze sweeps over the crowd until you spot Arthur. 

“Actually, that would be him right there.”

Eloise’s eyes follow your pointing finger and widen in genuine surprise. 

“Well, I’ll be!” she exclaims, clearly taken aback. “I must say, he’s certainly not what I was expecting. Doesn't look like he belongs here, in a good way of course. He’s quite the rugged type—like one of those big, tough cowboys you’d see in a wild frontier town. You know the sort: strong, stocky, with a weathered charm that comes from living hard and facing rough challenges.”

The irony of her words makes you laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I must say, you two make quite a handsome pair.” 

You flush at her words, a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness coloring your cheeks. Instead, you offer a polite smile and nod, playing along with the pretense. “Thank you,” you say in a steady voice, unsure of what else to say.

Arthur, briefly looking away from another person he was speaking to, catches your eye for the second time tonight. There’s a fleeting moment of connection—his gaze is intense, and the faintest smile plays at his lips—before he turns back to his conversation partner.

“I must admit,” she says, her tone light and teasing, “there’s more than just a bit of magic in the air between you two. It’s not every day you see such a striking balance. I do believe there’s a certain... chemistry here that’s hard to ignore. How delightful!”

You raise an eyebrow, giving her a confused smile. “What do you mean?”

Eloise’s eyes twinkle with a knowing glint as she glances over at Arthur. “Oh, it’s really quite charming, the way he looks at you. There’s just something in his gaze as if he’s captivated by you in a way that could be missed. It’s rare to see someone look at their partner with such intensity and warmth these days.”

For a moment, you almost correct her, eager to clarify that you and Arthur aren’t actually together. But then you remember the need to maintain the ruse. You glance awkwardly at Arthur, trying to downplay the connection Eloise is suggesting.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you say clearly flustered, trying to sound casual but failing to hide your unease. “I mean, Arthur and I aren’t exactly... well, he’s just got this intense look, which I’m sure it’s nothing more than... you know, his way of being attentive. It’s just a bit of his nature.”

Her smile softens, eyes warm and genuine. “Oh, it’s clear to see if you look hard enough. Even in a crowded room, he seems to be drawn to you. It’s quite endearing.”

The sound of cracks echoed before you could think of a response, and the woman beside you lit up with genuine excitement.

“Finally, something exciting! It's been lovely chatting with you. I do hope we cross paths again. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Eloise sends you a warm smile before hurrying off.

You send her a genuine smile before you turn your gaze upward to the sky, where faint glimmers of fireworks begin to light up the night. The display added a splash of color to the darkened sky, creating a stark contrast to the opulence of the garden below. 

As you watched the vibrant bursts, your thoughts drifted back to the conversation you had with Eloise, trying to process her comments. Her words lingered in your mind, stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion. 

The idea that whatever is between you and Arthur might actually convey something deeper, something affectionate, felt almost surreal given the dynamics between you two and your perspective on your relationship with him.

Perhaps Abigail was right; the more you spent time with Arthur, the more you learned about him and saw him in a new light. What had once seemed like mere pretense or forced partnership now hinted at a connection that transcended your initial expectations. 

The way he moved, the way he spoke, the moments of unguarded sincerity—it all started to paint a different picture. The possibility that these moments could be more than just part of the act began to take root, stirring a blend of curiosity and apprehension within you.

You quickly down your drink before setting the empty glass on the table.

Suddenly, a rough hand wrapping around your wrist jolts you out of your thoughts and you turn to see Arthur who all but tugged you along behind him. 

You let out a scowl. “Hey! What the-”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, a mix of amusement and determination on his face. “Come on, we just caught wind that the Mayor’s gotten somethin’ from Cornwall. Dutch reckons we oughta figure out what it is, make sure we ain’t missin’ nothin’ crucial.”

“And you need me because?” You asked with slight irritation as he continued to pull you along.

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice taking on a low, firm tone. “I need you to keep watch, and your lock-pickin’ skills could come in handy… ‘sides, you’re my wife don’t forget.” He added with a teasing smirk. 

“Can’t have you wanderin’ off by yourself lookin’ like I’ve neglected you. That wouldn’t reflect too well on me now, would it?”

You shot him a glare, yanking your wrist free from his grip. “Could’ve just asked me”

Arthur’s lips twitched with a hint of a smirk. “You looked so wrapped up in the fireworks, darlin’, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

You bit back a retort, your frustration mingling with a begrudging understanding of his point.  “Don’t call me that,” you said, a hint of irritation in your voice at the use of the nickname. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Alright, sweetheart. Try to keep up now.”

Trailing closely behind Arthur as you followed the servant, you effortlessly weaved through the spectators, who were too engrossed in watching the fireworks to notice you. 

The servant circled around to the side of the house and ascended a small set of steps leading out of the garden. He paused briefly to engage in a conversation with someone before slipping inside through a side door.

The both of you followed cautiously, making sure to stay out of sight. Inside, you overheard the man berating a maid before he made his way up the stairs, retracing your steps to the upper levels where you had previously been.

Just before reaching the landing, Arthur raises his hand, halting you in your tracks. He peers over the edge of the wall, watching as the servant enters the locked room, heads to a desk, and inserts a key into a drawer to place the letter inside. The servant then disappears further into the room, the sound of a door closing signaling that it is time for you and Arthur to make your move.

Arthur moves first, effortlessly slipping inside through the wide-open door left by the servant. You quickly scan the area to ensure it's clear before following him.

He makes his way over to the desk and tugs at the drawer, only to find it locked. Grabbing a letter opener from the table, he attempts to pry it open. You watch with amusement as he grunts in frustration, struggling to get it to budge.

“Honestly, watching you fumble with that is almost painful,” you remarked, making Arthur roll his eyes and throw up his hands in a gesture that clearly invited you to take over. With a sigh, you stepped in, gently nudging him aside before kneeling down to get eye-level with the lock.

Pulling a pin from your updo, your hair falls loosely over your back, leaving your style in a half-up, half-down look. You insert the pin into the lock, and after a few moments of fumbling, a triumphant smile spreads across your face at the satisfying click of the lock opening.

You stand back up and look over at Arthur, giving him a smug smile when you catch him staring. You raise an eyebrow, and he quickly clears his throat, shifting his gaze away as if caught in the act of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

"I, uh, never seen you with your hair down before," he comments before he can think twice, his voice trailing off as he leans over the drawer, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks. 

"Nice work," he adds, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before darting away.

You raise an eyebrow at his flustered demeanor, the corner of your mouth twitching in amusement, “I’m glad you approve.” 

You watch as he sifts through the drawer's contents until his hands close around a book with a piece of paper inside. He briefly reads the paper, nods, and then tears it in half, slipping the pieces into his suit pocket.

“You got it?” 

“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” he replies, glancing around making sure no one is watching before heading out the door with you following closely behind

Just as you were about to move down the stairs, the creaking sound of someone coming up halted both of your tracks. Without warning, Arthur grabbed you, pushing you gently but firmly against the wall beside the staircase, his body pressing close to yours. His arms caged around the sides of your head, creating a tight, protective barrier.

The sudden proximity left you acutely aware of his body against yours, his chest nearly brushing yours as his arms trapped you in place.

His gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race even faster. His brow furrowed slightly as if he were struggling to control a rush of emotions.

The closeness had clearly caught both of you off guard, the charged atmosphere between you almost palpable. His breath came in short, controlled bursts, and you could see the way his jaw tightened as he struggled to maintain his composure.

As he held you there, his expression softened just a fraction, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath his usually guarded demeanor. His voice, though still firm, carried a hint of concern as he leaned close to whisper, "Just stay still and quiet.”

The proximity of his breath against your ear made the moment feel even more intimate, amplifying the unexpected connection between you. The closeness, once marked by animosity, now seemed charged with a different kind of tension—one that was both electrifying and confusing.

As you stood there, the boundaries between duty and emotion blurred, and the shared space between you felt charged with unspoken understanding and vulnerability.

His eyes, usually hard with resolve or irritation, softened as they locked with yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a flicker of something raw and unguarded.

The emotion he held in his eyes made you reconsider the hostility that had defined your interactions. In that moment, the anger and resentment seemed to fade, replaced by a deeper, more complex understanding of the man standing so close to you.

The sound of footsteps drawing nearer to the top of the stairs heightened the urgency of the moment and Arthur’s gaze shifted to you once more.

One of his arms lowered from the wall behind you, and he placed his hand softly at the back of your neck. His touch lingered without applying too much pressure. You felt a shiver at the contact of his hand on your neck, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected jolt of emotion through you, bringing a surge of feelings you had been trying to suppress all night.

The gentle warmth of his hand contrasted sharply with the intensity of his gaze, creating a palpable connection that seemed to heighten the gravity of your precarious situation.

Your heart pounded as you met his intense gaze, which held a rare blend of sincerity and vulnerability that was almost disarming.

“You trust me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a sincerity that cut through the tension of the moment.

You hesitated, the weight of his question hanging between you. The proximity of his body and the depth of his gaze left you momentarily breathless. “Why should I?” you whispered back, your voice betraying a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Arthur’s eyes never left yours as he leaned in closer. “Because right now, it’s the only way we’re getting out of this,” he replied, his tone resolute but gentle.

In that charged silence, the dynamics of your relationship were shifting. You felt the usual barriers between you—formed by past conflicts and mutual distrust—began to dissolve, replaced by an unspoken understanding that was both electrifying and comforting. The anger and rivalry giving way to a fragile trust and an unexpected tenderness. 

With the footsteps slowly growing nearer, you saw a flicker of sincerity in his eyes that made you question your own doubts. You nodded slightly, trying to steady your breath. “Alright,” you whispered.

Arthur's lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and determination. “You gotta say it, sweetheart,” he urged softly.

Your mouth curled into a slight smirk as you looked up at him, your heart racing with a blend of anxiety and anticipation. “I trust you,” you said, the words feeling like a pact forged in the heat of the moment.

In a quick, decisive motion, he leans in and presses a firm, purposeful kiss to your lips, filled with urgency. The initial touch is electrifying, but as the kiss deepens, it becomes a release of suppressed feelings, a flood of emotions long held in check.

The kiss is fervent and consuming, each moment stretching out as if to make up for lost time. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, and there’s a raw, desperate quality to the way he kisses you. It feels as though every emotion he’s been holding back is being poured into this single, intense connection.

Your own lips respond with equal fervor, the kiss becoming a mutual surrender to the feelings that have been building between you. The world around you fades into the background, the only reality being the overwhelming sensation of his kiss. 

Arthur’s hand that had been pressed firmly against the wall, now frame your face with a gentleness that contrasts with the intensity of the kiss. His grip is both tender and possessive, as if he’s anchoring you to him, unwilling to let go.

The sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly jolts you back to reality. 

A servant, caught off guard by the intimate display before him, stood at the top of the stairs. His eyes widened in surprise, clearly unprepared for the passionate exchange unfolding before him.

You and Arthur break the kiss, though the intensity of the moment lingers in the charged air between you. With a quick, shared glance, you and Arthur both adjust your demeanor, the brief intimacy giving way to the reality of the mission.

The man, realizing he has intruded on a private and critical moment, clears his throat, clearly flustered at having walked in on the intimate scene before him, face flushing with embarrassment. "I-I’m sorry to interrupt, but this area is restricted to guests unless otherwise accompanied,” he stammers.

Arthur’s eyes narrow slightly, but his expression quickly returns to a more controlled demeanor. He gives the servant a nod of acknowledgment. “Sorry ‘bout that, partner. Seems my wife and I took a wrong turn and found ourselves in the wrong spot. We were just about to head on out.”

You, still caught in the afterglow of the kiss, straighten yourself and try to regain your composure. The abrupt interruption leaves you with a swirl of mixed emotions—embarrassment, irritation, and a lingering sense of affection. You cast a quick glance at Arthur, who responds with a subtle nod, signaling that it's time to move on.

Still visibly flustered, the servant offers a hurried apology, stepping aside with a rigid posture and a face flushed a deep shade of red. He tries to give you both space as you and Arthur hurry down the stairs, the charged atmosphere from the kiss still lingering between you. The abrupt return to reality sharpens your sense of urgency.

Arthur takes a deep breath, stepping back as his gaze meets yours for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to say something but hesitates before speaking again. “We should get a move on and find Dutch and the rest ‘em.”

You noticed his hesitation but decided to brush it off, nodding in agreement. “Sure, let’s see what’s next. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

You find Dutch, Hosea, and Bill on the first-floor balcony. 

“Ah, there you are!” Dutch exclaims, a smile on his face. He then turns to Arthur. “Find anything?”

Arthur gives a nod and taps his chest where he’s tucked the letter. “I think so.”

“Great. I think we’re done here.”

The four of you move to follow Dutch, briefly exchanging information with Hosea and Bill. Hosea mentions a potential robbery job targeting a big city bank, outlining the possible opportunities involved. You share what you’ve gathered earlier about a stagecoach expected to pass through Lemoyne in the next few weeks and the valuable jewels and cash it carries.

Dutch, Hosea, and Bill push past the front entrance, walking ahead. Just before you can follow, Arthur calls your name and gently grabs your arm, pulling you aside.

In the quiet corridor, away from the others, you face him. His eyes are a mixture of resolve and something else you can’t quite place. “Listen, I, uh…,” he trails off, his voice low, seeming to wrestle with his words for a moment before finally meeting your gaze. 

Your heart races, expecting him to address what happened between you earlier and the emotions that followed. 

Instead, Arthur’s tone is hesitant and detached. “‘Bout what happened earlier… I don’t want you thinkin’ it meant more than it did. We can’t afford to get all wrapped up in nothin’ personal.”

His dismissal hits you like a cold wave.

You had hoped for some acknowledgment of the shared moment, perhaps a sign that it meant something to him. Instead, his words feel like a sharp rebuff, making you question everything you thought you understood about what happened tonight.

“What are you talking about?” you demand, trying to mask the hurt in your voice. Your frustration and anger boil over. 

Arthur’s gaze falters for a moment before he regains his composure. He runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t think—” he begins, but his voice trails off as he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

He steps back, clearly distancing himself. “Look–I can’t offer you anything more than what we have. Let’s just focus on ending this job and not let personal feelings complicate things.”

You scoff, feeling the sting of his words. Personal feelings? 

“Right, so all that back there was just for show, was it? Just keeping up appearances?”

Arthur’s expression falters, and he hesitates. He opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, his frustration evident as he struggles to find the right thing to say. 

He turns to you, his expression now seeming emotionless and cold. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like nothin’ mattered. It’s just… I’m not tryin’ to make things too complicated. It’s best to keep things straightforward right now.”

The words and his tone cuts through you like a knife, the brief connection you shared now feels like a cruel tease, an illusion of intimacy shattered by the harsh reality.

His coldness is a stark contrast to the warmth you felt moments before, leaving you grappling with a mix of hurt and frustration. 

What started as mutual disdain had evolved into something more complex, yet now it feels like it's spiraling back into that familiar animosity.

You’d hoped that beneath the hostility and barbed comments, the genuine connection hinted at earlier tonight might bridge the gap between your conflicting dynamic. But now, it feels as if his rejection is pulling you back to square one—a place locked in an endless cycle of arguments and misunderstandings.

The idea that the warmth of those moments might have been nothing more than a strategic move or a fleeting distraction makes you question if there was ever truly a chance for something different between you two.

God, how naive you were to think there could be a sliver of something more between you and Arthur.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to focus on the task ahead. You push aside the personal turmoil, resolving to keep your interactions with Arthur as they were before—distant and guarded. 

With a blank expression masking the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath, you reply, “Fine. Let’s just get this night over with and move on. I’ll keep any ‘personal feelings’ out of the way if that makes it better for you.”

You turn away, forcing yourself not to say anything further that might reveal your feelings. As you do, you didn't miss the brief flash of hurt and sadness in Arthur’s expression before he quickly masks it with his usual stoic demeanor.

Finally rejoining the others, you enter the stagecoach and take your seat from before. Arthur takes his place beside you, the space between you charged with unspoken words and lingering hurt. 

The rift between the two of you feels even more pronounced, a painful reminder of what might have been overshadowed by the harsh reality of your circumstances.

Hosea and Dutch, seated across from you, seem to be blissfully unaware of the personal turmoil that has unfolded between you and Arthur, their conversation flowing naturally as they discuss the next steps of the gang’s plans.

The stagecoach rolls forward, and you turn to look out the window, drowning yourself in the passing scenery. The kiss and its aftermath now feel like an unspoken wound, deepening the complexity of your already fraught relationship and leaving you to grapple with the emotional fallout alone.

A/N: Okay so that ending was definitely not a happy one. After exploring where the story might go and experimenting more with the writing, I've decided that I mighttttt just make a Part 2, which might or might not include some smut hehe... So please stay tuned!

Thanks again for reading!

Read Part Two Here

[user211201]

Totally Normal

--- Originally posted on 2023-12-08 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

“Welcome back to Totally Normal, the online show where we narrow down the one thing that makes us all meet that standard!”

The host then hit a button on his laptop, releasing an audio for an uproarious round of applause. With his entire audience streaming in live, he had to make due with tracks. He didn’t mind it though; he could always predict what his viewers were thinking. It was like they shared the same mind.

“My name’s DJ, and before you ask, yes I have a side gig in music.” A laugh track obnoxiously inserted itself. “I don’t dabble in the typical jazz; I remix these men back to the tunes they oughta be singing.”

Another fake round of applause. The host smirked before continuing forward with the rules.

“The point of the game is simple: Figure out that one thing that makes someone totally normal. Through a series of questions, I’m going to chisel away at our contestants until we get to the base. For every wrong answer, a vibration will be sent out to their device until they head back on the right track. We want to find out that one thing that solidifies them as an average joe, but we don't exactly know what that thing is."

The host then took a scripted pause. "Well, *I *know what that thing is.”

Another laugh track entered before the host silenced his imaginary audience. “So, let’s get down to it. We have our men here, but ARE THEY NORMAL?”

The last three words were all enunciated with the typical gameshow pazazz. The host even had an accompanying audio that made it seem like there was an audience chanting it with him.

On cue, the livestream booted up a panel of the three contestants. The first was a shy young man, who by his age looked to be in college but by his height possibly younger. The second was the typical corporate homosexual, the breed who was already happily married and wore tight, designer clothing. And last but not least, the third looked just a little older than the first with an office that displayed the inner workings of a minor start-up.

“Help me welcome our first contestant, coming from the cool waves of Cali, here comes Cody!”

Corey opened his mouth to kindly correct the host, but was immediately silenced by the massive track of applause. A small and nervous 20-year-old, Corey was an academically-fine student at a state school. He worked as an IT intern, helping others work through their issues in a manner where he didn’t have to fully engage. Yet he knew he would probably have to work through this introvert problem if he ever truly wanted to make a loyal boyfriend from the crop of surfers across the street.

“Up next is our cowboy-tootin’, bullet-firin’ family man, Norman!”

Nolan made a face of disgust, but he too didn’t stand a chance against the fake cheers. He’d settled down with his husband just about 10 years ago in the suburbs. Working for a Fortune 500 company, he had everything a man of his caliber could want. Great company, great style, great pets instead of real children. Nolan loved his little metropolitan life.

“And finally, the privileged heir to the corporate throne, it’s Asher!”

Aaron rolled his eyes as the artificial eruption burst through his speakers. He assumed that this narcissistic jock host had gotten all of the contestants names wrong. Aaron had built his own business up from the ground, an independent hard-worker with no one tying him down. It wasn’t that Aaron didn’t want a boyfriend, he just needed to focus on himself. That’s why he was keeping it casual, hooking up with boys a little younger and less responsible. He absentmindedly pawed at his crotch a little as the douchebag DJ started the game.

“Now,” the host cracked his knuckles dramatically. “Let’s start off with some easy questions, just to make sure those devices are working after all. Cody, you’re looking comfortable out on that beach!”

Corey looked around the library he was sitting in confusedly, neither comfortable nor on a beach.

“I think you’re mistaking me for the surfers across the street,” Corey tried to joke, but his feeble demeanor spoiled the comeback.

“Men…you all ought to be where all the other guys of your kind are at.”

All three of them put on bewildered faces.

“Cody, what’s holding you back from embracing that Cali life?” the host asked.

“I…I mean there’s the obvious fact that they aren’t keen on ga-”

BZZT

“Ah!” Corey ripped his hand away, the "vibration" more of a literal sting.

“Cody, what’s holding you back?” the host asked again.

“Dude,” Corey uncharacteristically responded. “I don’t know if they will accept me, man.”

“Bro, what’s there NOT to accept?” the host chuckled. “You fit right in!”

Corey looked over his short frame, his pale skin, his shrimpy figure. He appeared better fit for the library than the bea-

BZZT

“You’re right DJ! I'm a gnarly guy like them brahs! They’ll totally accept me!”

Corey looked over his tall frame, his tanned skin, his toned figure. He appeared better fit for the beach than the library–that’s why he was on the beach after all!

“Alright alright,” the host nodded with approval. “Now Norman, let’s talk about your life in the countryside.”

‪‘Country side’?” Nolan interjected. “Do you consider Houston-”

BZZT

Nolan flung his hand back, “HOWARDWICK the countryside? You bet! Population 402, the two being me and my husband.”

“And what massive land you got behind you, I’m assuming you and your male fling built that together.”

“My what?” Nolan peered behind him, noticing his garden he’d built with his hus-

BZZT

-the ranch he’d built with his hustle. Well, not technically–this land had been managed through the traditional good ole ways of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. He’d just been fixing it up here and there.

Nolan stretched his thickening fingers, hoping to desensitize them from the pain. “W…What in tarnation is goin' on ‘ere?”

The host continued on, mocking the Southern accent he’d implanted onto the second contestant. “A place fittin' for a cowpoke like y’all’s self! Ain’t no city folk allowed; you don’t want nothin’ queer intrudin' your property, right?”

Queer?!” Nolan spat back. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’-“

BZZT

“Darn tootin’ straight! Ain’t nothin’ strange gonna be happenin’ on this ‘ere land.”

With the second contestant’s location rightfully reoriented, the host moved onto the third.

“And onto our Ivy League, let’s discuss ascension…I mean, ‘climbing the corporate ladder’.”

Aaron shot the host a dirty look through the screen. “You don’t think I worked hard to earn this position?”

“Well, you certainly didn’t do it all yourself.”

Aaron held his breath. He was a decently attractive man with his slim figure and responsible will, and even his anger made him appear wiser than his years. But Aaron's best feature was his independence, and he wasn’t going to let anyone taint his name over that.

“What, do you think my current boyfri-”

BZZT

“-my dating his-”

BZZT

“-my friends with benefits were involved?”

Aaron’s fingers tingled with energy. His body tingled with fury.

“Well,” the host snickered. “If by benefits, you mean…”

“What’s all this!” Aaron flipped. “This is simply…p…preposterous!”

“What are you talking about?” the host egged on. “It's simply normal for a man with your caliber to have such an ‘inheritance’.”

The other two contestants watched on with intrigue.

“I…I may have a b…benefactor,” Aaron suddenly revealed, as if something had just been placed upon his chest. But he was still independent, right? “But that has nothing to do with it!”

“Benefactor? Do you mean your DADDY?”

The fake audience suddenly burst into a chorus of shocked “Ooooohhhh”s. Aaron’s usual calm nature was flatlining, being replaced by a more quickly-agitated behavior.

“We may be really closely acquainted!” Aaron backpedaled. “But it’s nothing of that kind of sort!”

The other two contestants smirked as the growingly-pompous bastard was taken down a peg.

“Sounds pretty queer to me, man,” Corey interjected confidently, scratching at his defining abs.

“Yeah, Ah reckon that fellas a little less normal than us folks,” Nolan added, adjusting the large hat that had secured itself upon his head.

“SHUT UP SWINE!” Aaron spat, his face gaining back a little of his baby fat as he absorbed more child-like aggression. “I'm perfectly normal!”

The two men laughed alongside an obnoxious laughter track.

“He’s right folks, we men are on the right side of history.” The host knew he needed to move on, the show only had so much time of course, but he was having fun. “Surely that father-figure is just some kind of…relative?”

“Just a relative, brah?” Corey asked as his trim cut bloomed out into luscious blond waves.

“Seems closer than that, partner.” Nolan quipped as a graying stubble crawled upon his widening jaw.

“A….A relative?” Aaron stammered, a higher youthful pitch lightening his tenor as this benefactor became clearer in his head. “He’s…he’s someone who I f-“

BZZT

“Father! He’s my father: Asher Osvald the Third!” Aaron screamed, his blond locks gelling up into a refined style that didn’t match his own personality. “And you all better remember it when you see our company in the headlines!”

Both Corey and Nolan took their respectful back-offs, but the host could only smirk with pride. After a moment of self-congratulation, he noticed some slight hesitation from the first candidate.

“Dude…” Corey started. “Can’t you just see he’s messin’ with us, man? Don’t you guys feel kinda strange-“

“Aren’t you supposed to chill, dude?” The host immediately cut him off.

Corey’s mouth went flat, his chin taking the opportunity to curve out a little further. “How can I chill with-“

BZZT

“Without the support from my brosettes across the screen, duuuuude!”

The host watched on with glee as the female portion of the livestream burst into a flurry. Lots of hearts and kisses and even some eggplant emojis were flooding the chat. And the comments were getting suggestive too. One chick wanted to know why he was wearing a dorky button-up, and she was soon exposed to his lean bod and treasure trail. Another suggested he should flex for the camera, and Corey was happy to oblige, each of his muscles pumping larger as he did so.

“Now, Cody,” the host coyly asked. “I’m sure the fans would like to know what you do for work.”

“I uh…I work with coding.”

“You are studying IT?” the host replied, incredulous. “Sounds complicated man.”

Corey beamed at the compliment, an excited fever entering his voice. “Yeah, but I sort of have a gift for-“

BZZT

“IT...like as in ‘it’ man...not ‘eye-tee’ or whatever.”

“But it has something to do with a code, right?”

“Well…yeah man…” Corey’s lifeless vocal fry responded. “But it's not that nerdy crap…something more…uhhh…”

The host graciously provided the answer, “Manly?”

“Yeah man….’it’ is the uh…bro-code brah.” Corey fiddled with the cross necklace that had materialized around his neck, trying to structure his thoughts. Corey felt like his head was spinning in a light vertigo, but not out of stress. Rather, a pleasurable confusion. Cali dudes don’t think that much right? They just go with the flow, so why shouldn’t he man? Wasn’t that what was normal?

While Corey processed his internal dilemma, the host reconnected with the second contestant, noticing he too was becoming a little self-aware.

“Hey Norman, you’re really rocking that fit.”

Nolan was honestly surprised at the comment. He knew he looked good in his tight, patterned three-piece, but he didn’t think the ultra-straight host would notice that too.

“Those shoes must be great for the ranch.”

Nolan laughed. “These ole’ things? They’re Prada from last season-“

BZZT

“Uhh…Ah mean these boots are from that one brand-”

BZZT

“Ah’ve had these kickers for years, fella!”

The host observed quietly as the rest of the second contestant’s clothes altered. The suit jacket and vest disappeared completely. The pants grew out into a straight pair of jeans that had been worn continuously for many seasons. The shirt rolled it sleeves and loosened some buttons, darkening to a dusty black that was meant for hauling hay rather than implying gay. But as the outfit masculinized, there was one item that stubbornly fought back, unlike the man who wore it.

“And that belt, how long have you had that?”

Nolan evaluated the expensive snake leather. “Oh yeah, this ‘ere was a gift-“

BZZT

“What in TARNATION was that for?!” Nolan yelled, the vibration noticeably more painful than the previous blasts. The material of his belt quickly grew cheaper, a massive longhorn buckle blooming forth above his blooming pouch.

“S…Sorry y’all,” Nolan collected himself. “Ah don’t know what’s gotten ovah me, or why Ah’m speakin’ so-“

“Enough apologies,” the host gagged. “You are a man, are you not?”

“Yessiree, but that doesn’t mean we men ain’t got to be sens-”

BZZT

“Ah reckon yer right there, partner!” Nolan puffed out his chest, carrying his emerging muscle gut with him. “We men oughta be tough! The MAN of the household.”

The host snickered, his eyes meandering around the second contestant’s body as additional muscle and bulk was piled onto his frame. “And men like you ought to have a body like that, don’t they?”

The cowboy huffed, his torso heavy with Southern pride. Nolan had worked his muscular frame up over all these long years, from sunrise to sundown. At 6’4, his big hearty body was always devouring meat to stretch out everything from his big strong biceps to his huge Size 15 clompers!

With the first and second contestants almost there, it was time for the host to catch his third man up to speed. He had already advanced mighty far, his skin having cleared up a bit and a few arrogant gold trophies having appeared in the office background, but the host had some additional notches yet to secure before the final round.

“Now Asher, let’s get real here.” The host put on his classic douchebag smile for the audience. “Any ladies tickling that fancy lately?”

“What?” Aaron scoffed. “Are you dense? I'm into g-”

BZZT

“Girls…no…wait what?” Aaron felt strange. Why did the host ask if he liked…girls? And why was the thought of girls suddenly something he…liked?

“Listen ere’, partner,” Nolan suddenly interjected. “Yer talkin’ 'bout women like they’re nothin’!”

The host, displeased, fought back. “Aren’t you married to one, partner?”

Nolan couldn’t believe the disrespect. “Me? Married to a woman? Yeah right-”

BZZT

“-Ah am! Ah’ve been married to my lovely wife for darn straight twenty years! Ain’t nothing QUEER happenin' on this ‘ere normal ranch. I got youngins to raise after all!”

As Nolan became bombarded by memories of his new flock of children, the satisfied host switched back to his third contestant.

“Look, I think we should respect women.” Aaron tried his best to sound mature, now finding it extremely difficult to maintain. “In fact, I think we should respect all others appropriately-“

BZZT

“And by appropriately, I am referring to overlooking these swines of colleagues who cannot afford a top notch education adjacent to my own.”

The host queued up a laugh track for his next one-liner. “They weren’t kidding when they said someone with your prestige had everything handed down to you, including bad manners.”

Aaron felt his anger rising once again, it easily filling his shortening body as he squared out to an average 5’9.

“Well excuseeee me! I am my own person with-“

BZZT

“My father is a reputable man who would wish to-”

BZZT

“DADDY!”

Aaron stomped his foot, bewildered at this idiocracy. Why was he continuously interrupted? Why was he not given the required recognition? He was captain of the country club’s golf team, rowing team, youth league, and the youngest member on the executive board for Christ’s sake! He studied at an Ivy League! He was everything!

As Aaron tried to understand why none of these other men appreciated the absolute honors of his merit–which he refused to ever admit weren’t even his own–a small alarm went off from the host’s computer.

“Like what was that, mannnn?” Corey’s face furrowed into an all-too-natural look of dumbfoundment.

“Yeah,” Nolan reared. “What's y'all gonna do next?”

“I demand to know it this instant!” The host was surprised at the third contestant jumping in, but he assumed it was just his way of trying to maintain his (nonexisting) position on top. “Or else I’ll tell my father about this-!”

An insane uproar of artificial laughter echoed throughout their ears, startling and silencing them.

“Alright folks, you know what that sound means!” the host grinned. “It’s almost time to wrap up our show, and because our contestants still haven’t figured out what makes them 'Totally Normal', we’re going to have to speed things up!”

“But can’t there only be one winner?” Aaron whined.

“Technically, no,” the host responded honestly. “All of you can be winners if you find out what makes you totally normal.”

For the first time since the game had started, all three of the contestants fell silent.

“I mean, let’s look at our surfer stud Cody,” the host started. “You are almost there, but you gotta loosen that one thing that’s still pent-up, man.”

“Brah…” Corey complained. “What else is there?”

As if by some subconscious command from the host, Corey began dumbly palming himself, a light drool dripping from the edge of his lips. The constant cycle of tits and feminine bits in his mind bombarding all over thoughts.

“A totally gnarly surfer focuses on working out, banging chicks, and chillin’ dude.”

Corey guffawed with a stupid relaxed expression, casually groping as the host moved on.

“And Norman, you’ve worked hard for your position in life, haven’t you?”

The Texan father nodded in cold agreement.

“So what would pride a totally traditional cowboy more than his ranch, his woman, and his legacy?”

Nolan groaned as he instantly unbuckled the massive lock hiding his mighty steed. Huffing loudly, the Southern Baptist’s lil’ pony was wrangled into a full-fledged stallion, the kind that was built to produce offspring. And the kind that got worked up over anything that could threaten the generational uniformity his family, religion, and nation he swore to protect.

“And you, Asher,” the host swiped over to the final contestant. “What’s stopping you from becoming the total Harvard bastard?”

Asher’s face went red and his cock went hard.

“I’m talking complete corruption, pure privilege, Daddy’s little-”

The host was suddenly cut off by a loud holler, the exclaim like the crashing waves of the ocean. Immediately, the comment section blew up as the host, players, and audience watched the surfer jock release a blast of his sea salt spray.

But before the host could congratulate the first winner, the southern father turned around the corner. With one hand whipping his meat and the other held tightly onto his hat, it was only mere moments until the inevitable:

“YEEHAW!”

Once again, the audience burst into merriment over the propagating blast. It was then that Aaron’s anger truly took the best of him. He couldn’t be beaten by two no-names! He was the top of his class, an heir to a Fortune 500 company, and a totally normal man for Christ’s sake! Gripping his pecker and shining it furiously, Aaron accepted his heterosexual rage and vowed that he would win and please his…please his…!

“F…FAAAAATHERR!”

A loud, pretentious yell echoed out of the Harvard student, an endless splurge of funds dumping out of his mighty account. It was just one of the many things his heritage’s estate had granted him.

The host didn’t try to hide his devious sneer as the viewers erupted once more. He’d loved his job because everyone won every time. And now, seeing all the new stereotypical straights he’d created, the host couldn’t help but feel his own massive sausage chub. But he laughed the feeling off, knowing beating off over these other men wouldn’t have been “totally normal.”

“And it looks like with just a minute left on the clock, all three of our contestants will be going home as winners today!” The host then added his artificial rounds of applause. “So, did you three ever figure out what makes you ‘Totally Normal’?”

“Isn’t it obvious, brah?” Cody replied, the typical airhead more sure of himself now than when he had dropped out of high school. “It’s that we’re straight, mannnn…”

“He’s right, partner!” Norman added, his fatherly conviction always strong and steady. “Ain’t none of us are them faggots. If Ah do say so myself, we are all what the mighty Lord named men.”

“Well, if that is what common plebians such as yourself are called, then you shall address me as ‘I-V’,” Asher Osvald IV’s voice was doused in entitlement and a lack of understanding for anyone but himself. A pair of offscreen hands adjusted his tie just to prove his privilege. “After all, I do attend Harvard. I guess you could say I was destined for greatness since birth.”

“Yes, Asher, everyone here knows you are a prick.” The host immediately followed up his quip with a laugh track. “But that’s all we have for today’s show. Signing off, this is Host DJ!”

“Hang ten and surfs up, dudes!”

“The biggest rodeo’s the family and kids y’all!”

“I’m probably way richer than you vagrants, so don’t bother.”

“And don’t forget to ask yourself,” the host winked before adding in the final audio. “ARE YOU NORMAL?”

[ar-cadez]

Count Duckula Fan Rewrite!!

Recently I’ve been working on a Count Duckula rewrite that aims to give it a slightly more serious tone and semi-serialized story like many modern cartoons! It took some time, but I made redesigns of the main cast. I had fun making this project and I REALLY hope you do too! Because I’m extremely nervous that the small fan base Count Duckula does have will hate this

I haven’t actually finished the show btw so if there’s an antagonist or smth that shows up later I should’ve redesigned.. lmk! I’m open to suggestions I really like this show..

—————————————————

Basic Concept

Practically the same as the original show! There is a long line of reincarnations of a wicked vampire duck named Count Duckula, the most recent reincarnation went wrong and now the current Count is a vegetarian and much more interested in becoming famous than being evil.

Some major differences include the tone and story structure, being semi-serialized and having more serious arcs mixed in with the antics, along with a lot of changes in characterization. A big story change is also that Nanny was not hired until AFTER Duckula was reincarnated so Igor was the one who screwed up the ritual.

Tone wise I’d also like to slightly age up the target audience so it could get away with a bit more dark humour. My favourite part of the original show was moments that were just so morbid and completely brushed past. 13+ would be fine methinks.

Basic plot of the average episode would be about the count’s hyperfixation of the week and trying to get famous or profit from it. Not every episode would follow this structure though.

The grander themes of the series would be all about expectations from family and strangers and how those expectations can be completely false.

—————————————————

Characters

^^ Final lineup! ^^

Sketches (less interesting poses but shows off some things better)

Count Duckula!

What I wanted to change

I feel like Duckula from the original spin-off was already a really strong character! There is a lot to him and really all I would want from a more emotional reboot is to dive into what’s already there. I did kinda project on him a bit in this rewrite though… gotta write what’cha know!

I also changed his design quite a bit. I never thought the suit fit his personality and I wanted to go with something a little more bright. If I go back again I might saturate his shirt a bit more. I also wanted all the residents of castle Duckula to have purple in their designs and for duckula and Towser to share similar colour’s inversed

Character Traits

Hatred of his legacy

Duckula is the first member of his lineage to not be an evil vampire and he hates that role that is expected of him. This is partially what drives him to be the nicest duck he can be, in hopes of shaking off his legacy. This also causes him to reject anything that's “spooky” or has to do with vampires. He physically can't eat meat or blood due to his botched resurrection, but even the sight of either distresses him.

Attention Drive

Due to his infamy, all Duckula wants is to be liked by the general public. Everyone in his town is automatically scared of him and he tries really hard to change their opinions on him whether that be through attempting to bea good samaritan or by performing in town. (Both tend to end poorly for him)

ADHD and Theatre Kid Behaviour

Duckula is constantly picking up and putting down new forms of art and performance. This can be anything from oil painting to American football. He does tend to get frustrated or distracted and abandon projects or crafts entirely. His favourite artform is acting and music so as you can imagine he's very into musicals. His musical talents are decent but his acting is awful. He’s also known to loud and overly excited over his interests

Ego and Cowardice

Being given a position of power the day you came into existence does have the tendency to make you… immature to say the least. When in danger, if he even realises there is any, Duckula’s first move is to use his title as leverage. If that doesn't work, his second is to beg, grovel, and lie his way out of the situation. That, or hide behind his much more intimidating companions.

Rich Kid Syndrome

Having the majority of people you know be your house staff really messes with your sense of responsibility. Duckula can hardly do many basic life skills on his own because of this. It's not like he is completely lazy but he does have executive dysfunction and has yet to realise that fact, causing him to procrastinate on many things and completely forget or just get someone else to do it.

Not Naturally kind

Being his father’s reincarnation, it only makes sense that Duckula would inherit many traits from his past lives. Many of the other Counts were ego-driven cowards with desires for fame. They just went about it differently. Duckula actively tries to be kind and polite but a lot of passive aggression and snark slips through the cracks of that veneer. He would never want to admit that he has ANYTHING in common with his ancestors and he hates that being nice doesn't just come naturally to him. Being an immortal, Duckula also has a skewed sense of mortality and often doesn't understand the severity of certain injuries and situations.

This Duckula has ADHD and Autism in this rewrite and he struggles most with executive dysfunction, restricted interests, memory issues, atypical empathy (not specifically low or high), sensory issues (mostly with eating and some sound), and social cues. He also stims.

Towser!

What I Wanted to Change

Towser isn’t even really a character in the original. Just a running gag without a face. I wanted to balance out the main cast by adding another female character since I have feelings on Nanny as a character and i didn’t know if i would even be able to salvage that.

I really like what I came up with! She’s fun to me and I’ll probably flesh her out more later.

Character Traits

Family drive

Towser has little interest in birds that aren't close to her and it usually takes awhile for her to get used to new people. However, she’ll protect those that she does care about with her life. She is the castle’s guard dog and will do whatever’s necessary to protect it. This often comes at the cost of her sleep, because she feels like she always needs to be awake to protect them.

Tag Along

Following Duckula around like a puppy is what Towser does best! She might not fully understand his enthusiasm on certain subjects, but she's always up to backing him up on his newest fame seeking endeavours (though she herself prefers physical activity over creative works). She never expects anything to come of it, but hey, at least it's something to do. She also likes to hear Duckula rant to her about his interests.

Big Sister

Towser is of a much more stable mental state than Duckula, and as his only friend around his age, he trusts her more to be someone to talk to about his identity issues and issues in general. The two are a lot warmer towards each other than they are anyone else, and can also get away with messing with the other a lot more.

Big ol Lap dog

When in werewolf form, Towser tends to forget her size and often crushes them with her size. This usually wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that she's always a lot more cuddly and energetic in wolf form than bird form. This is because, as a werewolf, she's only in wolf form at night and being a fully nocturnal bird that should only be awake at night, this messes with her sleep rhythm a lot.

Igor!

What I wanted to Change

Personality wise Igor is already really strong and I didn’t change much of that. You’ll probably notice from the sketches that Igor has a skeleton hand, that’s because I made him undead in this version just to give a reason to how he’s been able to live this long since the original doesn’t really have one (which is fine)

Character Traits

Devotion to the role

Igor has been the Count’s butler since the first incarnation. He was assigned to keep the Duckula legacy alive by reincarnating his master every time he meets his fate and helping him readjust every time. Helping each new reincarnation bring misery and fear to the town they reside by with a smile… Until the most recent incarnation of course. He’ll stick it out though, because he still has hope for him.

Taste for the macabre

Whether it be killing innocents behind the back of his new master, decorating the castle with cobwebs and bones, or using his undead nature to scare and torture those around him, Igor certainly has an interesting idea of fun. Igor gets a sick enjoyment out of causing others distress and despises all things kind and cute, something which definitely frustrates Duckula, who's desperately trying to fix his own image.

Bitter Traditionalist

Having lived through the centuries in castle Duckula, Igor has gained an appreciation for the history of the place and the vampire ducks that have resided there over the years. He’s rather invested in the lives of his previous masters and is extremely cross with the newest incarnation for not only not caring about that past, but also completely disowning it. Igor tries desperately to get Duckula to be a normal vampire, truly believing it could work with enough effort. Less he spend the next few centuries with a vegetarian for a master… Igor would not have a problem with Duckula pursuing fame if it weren't for the fact that he thinks it's distracting him from true vampirism.

Tired old man

Igor has lived for many centuries and he does not feel as if he should have to babysit for an immature man child like Duckula. He would rather ignore or snark the young count rather than actually talk to him. When the two argue its a constant back and forth of passive aggression and personal jobs that they almost always forget what they're actually arguing over. Duckula is physically and mentally very young (17-early 20s) compared to Igor’s other masters due to the botched revival and he doesn't know how to, or want to, deal with it.

Nanny!

What I Wanted to Change

I’m sorry to any hardcore Nanny fans out there but this is practically a whole new character. I find Nanny to be frustrating and annoying in the original and who I personally feel is a very sexist and mean spirited character. There’s absolutely nothing I would want to write with a character who’s just “big stupid fat woman inconveniences everyone around her” it’s just uncomfortable after a certain point.

My idea for a new take was just an extremely kind older woman who’s a little airheaded but is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. This sets her up as a foil to Igor. She’s also the only non-monster resident of the castle in this version which I personally think is really interesting.

Character Traits

Only good influence

While Igor actively sets out to make Duckula a bad person and Towser couldn't care less about how Duckula acts, Nanny is the only direct influence in Duckula’s life who pushes him to do better. Nanny believes Duckula is a good person at heart and pushes him to take more responsibility in his life. She wants him to learn a good work ethic and is fully supportive of him trying to better himself.

Good Christian Woman

Nanny is, in fact, a christian. She is fully aware of the demonic nature of her companions but believes that everyone can better themselves no matter their circumstances and attempts to better those around her. Igor hates her for it but she’s totally ignorant to that fact.

Assertive Mother Figure

Though Nanny is a very kind woman, she is also not a pushover. She will assert authority over Duckula and anyone else if necessary, and most are compliant once she puts her foot down, if they aren't, however, Nanny does pack a punch and won't hesitate to use her strength to protect her family.

Smarter than she seems

Nanny is an airheaded optimist with a big heart and those traits make her come off a lot more clueless than she actually is. She may seem like she has no idea what’s going on but she’s actually very observant and is fantastic at assessing a situation and finding the best course of action.

Dr. Von Goosewing

What I Wanted to Change

I really liked the idea of the antagonist to Duckula was in a liniage of vampire slayers and that their ancestors have been fighting for generations. It gave me the perfect set up for a ✨SHADOW ANTAGONIST✨ I wanted to make this rewrite have the two reflect each other a lot more. To do that I wanted Goosewing to still be a really cooky guy but I didn’t want the public to know that.

Also I have no idea why he’s dressed like Sherlock Holmes in the original if he’s a Van Helsing parody and also an inventor. You could’ve leaned into either of those ideas but for some reason he’s dressed like a detective? so I tried giving him a more fitting outfit but keeping his colours for recognisablity.

Character Traits

Playing Village hero

Goosewing is considered a big deal in town because of his family of vampire hunters. He’s prepared his whole life to kill Count Duckula the moment he comes back and to protect the common folk from the paranormal. Despite this, Goosewing isn't actually particularly skilled at his job and usually ends up failing his assassinations due to his own incompetence. He feels like he has to play the role as a hero to continue his family’s legacy despite not particularly enjoying it or being good at it.

Overestimating the enemy

With how cunning and malevolent the past Duckula incarnations were, Goosewing expects the same from this one. Goosewing believes that Duckula is a dangerous and clever foe completely focused on causing others pain. In reality, Duckula is the most incompetent bird in all of Transylvania, aside fromGoosewing himself, of course. Goosewing also comes to believe that Duckula is only acting nice to later betray the public, a belief he is not quiet about and that keeps the public from trusting Duckula.

Mad Scientist

Goosewing definitely falls into the eccentric scientist trope with his innovative but scatterbrained nature. He would much rather be working on an invention than actually doing his job. The public sees him as a hero but while hunting vampires or when hes alone he comes off as more of a mad scientist than the hero character he plays. His intentions are ultimately good but are completely based on the assumption that he’s the wholly good protector of the people and that Duckula is a cunning villain who's out to get him and everyone else.

Shadow

Goosewing and Duckula reflect each other in a lot of ways. They both have a legacy they are expected to uphold despite not wanting to or even being able to, they both care deeply about the public’s opinion on them while the public has an incredibly incorrect view of the both of them, and they both have creative interests outside of the roles expected of them that they'd rather be persuing. Duckula fully rejects anything to do with his ancestry, while Goosewing is actively trying to fulfil despite not enjoying it.

The Murder Brothers!

What I Wanted to Change

Haha I called them the murder brothers bc they’re crows and criminals Im actually so funny… anyway. I don’t know if I should’ve even done these guys but I really like them as antagonists so!!

I gave the younger two names and a personality. The wiki said they didn’t have names but if they do lmk and I’ll just fix that. Other than that I didn’t change much except try to give ‘em a bit more depth and changing their physical designs a ton for fun.

Character Traits

The Murder Brothers, as a whole, are a tight knit family of con men crows who pull any grift they can to get their hands on some cash. Though they may act like their only loyalty in life is to money, they do genuinely care about each other's well being

Ruffles

Ruffles is the short tempered and eldest leader of the group. He’s constantly frustrated with his brothers’ incompetence and isn't quiet about it. He believes that if it weren't for them he'd probably be a lot further in life by now (which isn't true) and he’ll say he doesn't care about them, but he actually does.

Burt

If he didn't insist on helping his brothers, Burt would be the most likely to be living an honest life. As the second oldest sibling, Burt holds a position as right hand man. He’s a naturally kind and enthusiastic bird who, while a bit dumb, does openly express his love for his brothers. He takes on a lot of the abuse from his older brother and is often used by the group to talk to others, because he's so naturally trustworthy.

Reggie

Reggie is the second youngest of the brothers and the most relaxed out of all of them. He has an impeccable sleight of hand and is the go to for lockpicking and such. He’s a decent smooth talker and is often the one to break up fights, though he's not above getting angry at the others himself.

Leroy

Leroy is the youngest of the brothers and by far the least skilled. His speech is incomprehensible from under his mask (although he can see through it for the most part) and he’s often left with the worst jobs during their cons because of that. He’s the most timid out of all of them but I’m sure if you took that mask off of him he’d be really talkative.

—————————————————

Ending Words

Well that’s all I got! I spent way too long on this project that maybe two people will care about and one of them is me 💔 Anyway if I make anything else for this rewrite/au I’ll tag it with #wbcd . I wouldn’t count on it because I mighttt get burn out from this but im just so glad I finished it! I’ve thought about writing a pilot script just for fun but idk. I’d like to do more long format au stuff, I was going to make a YouTube video about this but I almost cried trying to record myself so I gave up 💔

[findmeinthefallair]

Masterpost of My Hunter Metas

Here's the list, up and running right before the year ends!

All drawing upon lived experience combined with past experience and knowledge from training and working as a therapist.

These should be in my "reblogging for World Mental Health Day" tag too.

Hunter Takes A Big Risk in "Labyrinth Runners" (and It Pays Off)

The significance of Hunter expressing a clear, resounding "No"

A Look at Hunter’s Complex PTSD (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Big "T" and Small "t" Trauma

Colour Theory Ramblings #1

Colour Theory Ramblings #2

Therapist Analysis of Hunter’s Mental Health in "For the Future"

Who the Kids Are at Their Core, Beyond Their Good Deeds

Memories and Traumatic Grief

Palismen, Connection and Integrating Grief into A New Life

The Onscreen "I Wish You Were Here" vs. The Offscreen "I Hurt You"

Hunter’s Possession Scenes and the Theme of Enmeshment

Retraumatization vs. Self-Soothing (Part 1) (Part 2)

Hunter's Body Language

An Uncommonly Discussed Trauma Symptom

Outfit and Hairstyle Changes in Hunter's Character Design

Bonus Rambling About His Hairstyles

Hunter's Experiences After Belos's Death

(Addition re: Grimwalker Graveyard)

(Addition re: A Fear of Touching Palismen and Interacting with Palismen After Flapjack's Death)

(Addition re: Early Days of Palisman-Carving)

Separate Meta About Luz's Behaviour in "Reaching Out": A Parallel to the Start of Hunter's Recovery After Belos's Death

Luz and Hunter's Shared Trauma After Placing Trust in Belos

Watching and Dreaming: Luz, King and Hunter Experiencing the Loss of Their Father Figures

The Confusion of Looking Back on the 'Love' Shown by Belos

The Hand Motif in Hunter's Character Arc

Hunter's Character Arc: A Hopeful Narrative a.k.a. my infodump about cinematography

Hunter Emotionally Shutting Down in "Labyrinth Runners" and "For the Future"

Left Alone (with Palismen)

(Added on 4/22/24) Parallels with Trauma Recovery in Legend of Korra

(Added on 10/31/24) Add-On about the Sympathetic and Parasympathetic Nervous Systems (While I Ramble About My Personal Favourite Hunter Outfit

Any further edits or updates shall be added to this original post instead of via reblogs. I'll make sure to show which dates the edits were made on. It's likely I'll put a few up over time as I read more mental health books/publications which could lead to more light bulb moments!

Oh, this son of mine...

What a beautiful story his life tells us.

After the upcoming new year celebration, I'll put them on Ao3 as well as per a mutual's suggestion (thanks for suggesting! <3).

Stay weird! I wish y'all a good 2024 and beyond! 🦉🏠🐦🧙🏻‍♀️🔮🧹

[thanatos1dahilias]

YOU 🫵🏼🫵🏼 SHARE UR OCS I WANNA KNOW ABT THEM

I. I HAVE A FEELING I KNOW WHO THIS IS... BUT ANYWAYS YES IM GOING TO AGRESSIVLY TALK ABOUT AARON STERFON NOW SO THANK YOU 🥳🥳 Aaron Sterfon (steps 1 and 2 because im still working on some ideas for his step 3 design)

STEP 1 - He's really nervous and awkward but people still think he's cool - Aaron doesn't have the best relationship with his mom and never really has, but at the end of the day he still loves her - His mental health decline starts when him and Opal move to Golden Grove because it means he loses all the friends he had and whatever elementary schooler life he had built - He's originally from Arizona because I thought that'd be fun (he hates the cold but also loves it) - He's trans, but doesn't really know the term at all. He just tells people "oh im a guy" and they're like "oh cool I believe you" and it makes him happy. His mom just followed along and called him her son because she kind of realizes what's happening - Big fat crush on Qiu, literally said "oh my god you're stunning" and that was that STEP 2 - He's louder and more talkative, kind of rowdy and rude to people without meaning to be - Him and Opal rarely talk anymore, he doesn't even think she knows he's trans (she does and has since he was 10- more so assumed but shh) - He wears fake piercings because he doesn't really want real ones till he's older (fake septum and lip ring) - Mental health who? Yeah he. He's got really bad depression and no one besides his mom and Qiu really know much about it. It's terrible and I plan to torture him with sad fanfics - His fashion? It's actually great now, people constantly want to snatch his outfits and i think that's fun. We just. We just ignore the fact that he looks like Nico Di Angelo from PJO okay? - Because my favorite show is Supernatural I'm making his favorite show Supernatural because that's still timeline accurate and. Yeah. - His music taste here is more so alternative rock with some guilty pleasure pop. His ipod shuffle would be messy as HELL. - And finally, he's still got the biggest crush on Qiu and it's mutual (obviously to everyone else, not them. They flirt and go "oh shit bro dont like me" because they're stupid I HAVE OTHER OCS I MIGHT RANT ABOUT IN THE FUTURE BUT. LITTLE MR STERFON HAS BEEN ROTTING MY BRAIN SO THANK YOU FOR ASKING !!!!!!!!!

[roseeycreates-blog]

I’ve been getting asks about the Farmer AU, and it's bringing me so much joy! 😂 There are 2 more asks left, so here’s something in the meantime. If you have more questions, just send them my way—it’ll make me truly happy! ANYWAY~

Here are the GAANG KIDS. Can you recognize who's who? 😊🤭

I had fun designing these on Picrew!~ female | male

After dating for a year, Lin decided to officially become Tenzin's girlfriend. Tenzin was over the moon, and his siblings noticed the sudden change in his attitude. They interrogated him until he cracked and confessed about Lin. Kya had an idea and told Tenzin they wanted to meet her. Tenzin hesitantly agreed, knowing his sister well enough to realize there was no stopping her. When the day came, they all met at a coffee shop. To Tenzin's surprise, Kya and Bumi weren't the only ones there—Princess Izumi and Suyin Beifong were also sitting at the table. Tenzin let out a huge sigh, touching his temples, while Lin just smiled at him, trying to calm him down. Lord Zuko's only daughter, Princess Izumi, was in town because, as the future Fire Lord, she needed to be up-to-date on all political meetings and such. Suyin was just bored at home, so she decided to come along. Lin was nervous at first, but seeing Tenzin looking more stressed than her helped her relax. As they settled down, Tenzin let Lin sit first. Bumi teased, "Wow, Tenzin, such a gentleman! You never do that for us." Kya chimed in, "Yeah, what's with the special treatment? You never pulled out a chair for me!" Suyin chimed in, "Seriously, Tenzin, that's a first!" Izumi added with a playful smirk, "Well, I have servants for that, but it's nice to see chivalry isn't dead." They all laughed, and Lin felt herself easing into the conversation. It felt like she had known them forever. Once everyone was comfortable, they asked Lin about her work and where she was from. She explained, "I own a farm outside Republic City. I originally came from Ba Sing Se." Bumi then pointed out, "Hey, weren't you featured in the newspaper recently?" Lin smiled, "Yes, that was me." Suyin asked politely, "Are you a bender by any chance?" Lin shook her head, "No, I'm not." Suyin remarked, "That's surprising. I'm an earth bender and imagine having that element, it would make farming a lot easier." Kya nudged her as Tenzin glared at Suyin. Izumi swiftly changed the subject, "So, Lin, how did you and Tenzin meet? I'm curious… What did you see in him?" Lin and Tenzin were caught off guard by Izumi's question. Lin glanced at Tenzin, who looked slightly insulted but then smiled at her, encouraging her to share the story. Lin took a deep breath and started to explain, "Well, we met for the first time…"

[comphy-and-cozy]

Glittery - Andrei Svechnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov x Reader (f)

Summary: The holidays are an important staple in your relationship, and this year, you’re at the top of Andrei’s wishlist.

Word Count: 4.7K

Author’s Note: This was originally inspired by another hockey, but fits everyone’s favorite Russian winger all too well. Title by Kacey Musgraves, but definitely listen to this song for additional inspiration (s/o to @suitandtys for this discovery). Feel free to use your own imagination for the necklace/lingerie, but if interested, here and here are the links to what inspired them.

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY) & fluff. Hastily (and poorly) translated Russian, Christmas-specific celebrations/themes (minimal but still referenced), swearing, unprotected sex, choking, oral sex (m + f receiving), brief size kink, creampie. A few very poor holiday-themed puns that I will not be apologizing for.

Masterlist / Moodboard

December in Raleigh isn’t quite as magical as in Russia, or even further north in North America. There’s no snow, and the air is a balmy 60 degrees, which makes it very difficult to get in the holiday spirit.

Naturally, Andrei is busy, but when you started dating he’d made it a priority and a tradition to deck out his (now your shared) apartment to make it feel like more festive, even if it didn’t feel that way outside. Every year, he brings out the garland, the tinsel, the festive snowmen to place around the house, and, of course, going to pick out the perfect tree — and decorate it — is an all-day affair. He does it for you, to keep things feeling warm and cozy even while he’s away, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t remind him of home with his family and brother.

Gifts quickly became a staple for the holidays, too. He’s a giver, always purchasing small little souvenirs for you from his travels, and he loves to shower you with gifts for holidays, birthdays, and really any celebration. Growing up with very little, Andrei knows how it feels to receive next to nothing, and now that he has the means, he wants to make sure that none of his loved ones ever have to go without a gift ever again. 

So, it’s safe to say that your gift exchange day is all but sacred within your apartment. He insists on both of you wearing matching pajamas, with holiday music playing through the speaker and the only light in the house coming from the string lights hung up all over the place.

This year, he’s gone all out, purchasing you a lounge set, a new purse, some books, and no shortage of skincare from your Sephora wishlist. He never fails to make you feel completely pampered — something you’ve long since insisted isn’t necessary, despite the fact that he is a multi-millionaire now.

The hot cocoa on your coffee table has gone cold, the marshmallows floating in the liquid melted into what’s left in the bottom of your mugs. There’s a trash bag full of torn open wrapping paper, an equally large stack of boxes of each of your open gifts beside it.

“I have one more for you,” Andrei smiles, reaching for a small box tucked away underneath the tree. It’s neatly wrapped – certainly not by him – with a small white bow on top.

The package is light, and while your fingers carefully tear the paper, not wanting to damage the elegant design, your mind is running with the possibilities of what could be inside the box.

Your brain registers the dark navy of the box before the gold ‘HW’ that’s stamped into it, and you gasp when you realize. Inside the box is a gorgeous diamond choker, sparkling brighter than anything you’ve ever seen, and you are helpless to do anything but gape at the jewelry sitting in your lap.

“What do you think?” Andrei probes, a smile flitting on his face as he watches your reaction.

“Andrei, this is — a Harry Winston is —” you swallow, suddenly nervous to even be holding the box in your hands lest you damage the necklace inside. The box alone surely costs more than what you pay in rent, and you shudder to think how much he’d dropped on this. “It’s so expensive.”

“Don’t worry about the price, baby,” he says. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s the least I can do to show you.”

You can feel the tears welling up before you see them on the rims of your eyes, watery and emotional and overwhelmed. Carefully, you set the box on the table before lunging at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckles, the sound deep in his chest, rumbling against your own as the gratitude falls in droplets down your face.

“Andrei,” you whisper. “This is so… so generous. You — I — it —”

There’s a pause as you let out a sob, letting his hand rub soothingly on your back.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, kisa,” is all he says back, his arms pulling you in to squeeze you tighter. 

He’s patient, allowing your sniffles to subside before he pulls away, smiling warmly at you as he wipes your happy tears away. Leaning to the table, he picks up the box and looks at you as he picks the necklace up out of the grooves to keep it in place, holding it toward you. “Want to see it on you.”

“Drei, I have my pajamas on,” you remind him, gesturing to your flannel set, far from complementary to a diamond necklace that’s worth a small fortune. 

“I don’t care. You’re still beautiful.”

With a bashful smile, you turn and gather your hair, allowing him to place the piece around your neck, fastening the hook in the back. It’s heavy as it rests against your chest, and when you look down, all you can really see is the brightness from the way the Christmas tree lights reflect in the diamonds. 

When you turn around to show him, Andrei’s lips curl into a grin, wide enough that you can see the missing tooth that you love so much. His eyes are warm, falling to the sparkle on your neck, before he looks back up into your eyes. “You look so beautiful, dorogoy.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, shy, your fingers gently touching the diamonds. Leaping up from the couch, you dash into the bathroom to look in the mirror. It feels entirely out of place in your regular bathroom and your dinky pajamas, but the sparkle makes everything else around it less vibrant. It’s beautiful.

“I thought you could wear it to the holiday party,” Andrei’s voice says from behind you. He appears in the mirror before his arms slip around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he admires your reflection.

“Of course, Andrei,” you agree with a smile. “It’ll be perfect.”

Soon enough, the party day arrives. Your dress is hanging neatly on a hanger in the closet, carefully steamed by you the day before. It’s green, satiny smooth, falling at your mid-thigh and hugging your curves in all the right places. When you step out of the bedroom all done up, Andrei has to stop in his tracks to stare. 

“Malyshka…” 

Heat rises in your cheeks under his gaze, his eyes roving over your legs, up your body, over the deep red on your lips, finally coming to the Harry Winston necklace laying beautifully on your décolletage. The sound that leaves his throat is a combination of a groan and a whimper, speechless at the sight of you.

“You are fucking stunning,” he finally manages, his own cheeks tinged pink. “You look so beautiful.”

You step forward until you’re standing in front of him. Your hands find his tie, Windsor-knotted neatly around his neck, the deep green matching your dress almost perfectly. His breath hitches in his throat when you run your hands along the material, feeling the softness beneath your fingertips, admiring your man and how nice he cleans up.

Ghosting his lips with yours, you dodge him when he presses forward to kiss you, smiling when you hear his whine. “My lipstick is still drying, Drei. Don’t want you to get red all over.”

Andrei’s grumble is low, murmuring something like, ‘want you to get red somewhere’ that has you stifling a giggle. 

Eventually, though, you do grant him a kiss, a chaste one against his pretty lips to ensure not smudging your lipstick or getting it on his face. And as much as you’d love for him to smudge it and take off the dress you’d just put on, duty calls, and you begrudgingly put your desire to the side as you follow him out the door.

The party itself is festive and fun, string lights decorating the room that’s filled with a softly-playing Christmas mix. After a few drinks, Andrei does finally take his hands off of you, though he never strays far, finding your eyes over the sea of heads and offering a wink or a dimpled smile that never fails to melt your heart.

Before long, though, the gathering dies down as the consumption of alcohol increases. You and Andrei bid your goodbyes, unable to deny the desire to get home and take off your heels — along with all of Andrei’s clothes. 

When you step back into your apartment, he helps you shrug your coat off to hang it in the closet. Before you step too far into your living room, you turn to him with a smile.

“I have one more gift for you,” you purr, enjoying the intrigue in his eyes, lit up like the Fraser Fir standing in the corner of your living room. “Wait here.”

The way his eyebrows furrow is endearing, confused at your mystery, watching you disappear into the bedroom. The look on his face when you emerge a few minutes later is even more priceless, jaw dropping in shock at seeing your body encased in red silk, the lingerie doing very little to disguise your curves. Ribbons wind up your torso, culminating in a large bow that’s nestled between the swell of your breasts. On your neck lies the necklace, glittering against your skin while you’re wrapped up like the best present he’ll ever receive.

“Merry Christmas, Drei.”

Andrei exhales slowly, breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. He doesn’t know where to look, can’t get enough of your skin and your curves and the way the diamonds look sparkling underneath your smile. His breath is shaky, broken, as he rises to his feet to meet you, swallowing thickly against the collar of his dress shirt.

“Malyshka, you – wow.”

A large hand extends out to you, and you slip your own into his palm, allowing him to twirl you around for a full view of your backside that’s barely covered by cheeky lace and more silk. You can hear the growl that leaves his throat before you return to face him, his eyes darkened as he watches you.

“All for me?”

Your lips, painted red, curl into a smile. “Always just for you, Drei.”

His hum is a satisfied one, and suddenly the anticipation is fully palpable, practically tangible in the air, as he pauses and waits for your cue. It isn’t until you gently tug at his hand, pulling him away from the door, that he smirks, backing up until the back of his thighs hit the arm of the couch.

His smirk grows even wider as he watches you sink to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. The twitch he gives as your gaze moves toward his belt is involuntary, as is the groan that he emits as your hand runs along his length through his dress pants. 

“Is this my last Christmas present?” you ask cheekily, and he can barely choke out a laugh at your cheesy joke. He’s almost too focused on the warmth of your palm to give his own cheeky reply — almost. 

“This package is too big to gift wrap.” 

If it wasn’t for the way he throbs in your hand, you’d smack him playfully for the stupid pun, but instead you just laugh and roll your eyes before returning to your task at hand. After all, he isn’t entirely wrong. 

Andrei doesn’t breathe as you work on his belt, the smooth sound of the leather slipping through the belt loops, the buckle clinking as it falls to the floor. Your eyes glitter when you tug the zipper down, allowing him the space to hastily kick the slacks the rest of the way off. Before long, his sweater joins the pile of clothes on the floor, and his white dress shirt is unbuttoned, green tie hanging loosely over the cut lines of his abdomen. 

You can’t help the way your hand itches to run along the firm muscle, feeling each ridge beneath your fingertips and admiring his body. While you’ve certainly done your fair share of complaining when he’s up at 6am to workout in the summer, you can’t deny that there’s a very clear benefit that you take plenty of advantage of. 

When your hand trails back down his stomach, your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, pausing with a teasing smile. His erection is tenting in the front, more than ready for you to touch him, a small wet patch on the fabric that you yearn to kiss. So, you do, seeing the way his hands clutch at the duvet out of the corners of your eye. 

Eventually, though, your need outweighs your desire to tease, and you shed his boxers, too, feasting your eyes on your favorite appendage of his. It’s tall and proud, weeping at the slit in a silent beg for your mouth. 

The sounds Andrei makes when you take him between your lips are always otherworldly, usually a strangled groan or a sharp intake of breath. Today’s no different, with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth when your jaw hinges to take him deeper. He’ll never know how he got so lucky, to be able to call the beautiful woman who gives the best blowjobs on planet earth his. 

Your lips close around his length, working up and down in a practiced rhythm. If you like the sounds he makes, he loves the sound of you gagging on him, the wet sound of him hitting the back of your throat and the way he slides against your tongue. It’s sinful and sexy and never fails to make his balls tighten.

It takes all of his willpower to do it, but Andrei eventually nudges you, pulling you off of him with a grunt. He can’t afford to finish early, not tonight, when you’re looking so sinfully beautiful and dressed up just for him, literally wrapped underneath the Christmas tree.

When he shifts to sit on the couch, tugging you quickly into his lap, his eyes are hungry as they gaze up at you. You’re so close to where he wants you, and you can feel him — and yourself — throbbing at the proximity. 

His expression quickly changes, though, when your arms reach up behind your neck to remove the necklace, not wanting to damage it before the real fun begins, but Andrei’s voice stops you. “Leave it.”

Freezing, your eyes shoot to Andrei’s, frantic. “Andrei, we’ll damage it —”

He pulls you closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies and suddenly you’re distracted by the heat radiating off of his body and the darkness that’s swallowed his normally beautiful hazelnut irises. His hand moves toward your neck, fingers brushing delicately against the diamonds, feeling the way the glittering stones glide beneath his fingertips. Then, he repeats, “Leave it.”

Swallowing, you lower your hands obediently, sensing the shift in the dynamic with just two words muttered around a thick Russian accent.

Andrei’s hands continue their path over your collarbones, down your arm, sliding over your sides before coming to rest on your hips, a trail of goosebumps following. He’s gentle, like you’re a sculpture made of porcelain, a stark contrast to the rough hands he knows you love.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs. His hands move over your neck, coming to cup either side of your jaw, and you shiver when his lips ghost over yours in the same way you’d teased him earlier. “M’the luckiest man in the world.” 

When he finally presses his lips to yours, you can’t help the sigh that escapes your throat, the feeling of relief almost overwhelming as he kisses you hungrily. His tongue is quick to find the seam of your mouth, delving into it with the passion you awoke in him as soon as you stepped out in your party dress tonight.

His arms hold you, hands roving over your curves, feeling the smoothness of the silk in his hands. Painstakingly, he tears himself away in favor of looking at you. His eyes dart over your body, admiring the piece one last time, committing the sight of it to memory, before one hand reaches forward to slowly tug at the end of the bow on your chest. The material is soft, slippery, sliding apart with ease to reveal your cleavage.

Andrei grins, tipping you backwards gently until you’re on your back on the couch. The vibration in his chest transfers to yours when he hums, his lips pressed to your sternum. He plants kisses all along your chest, dotting along the hem of the bra — if you can even call it that — reveling in his ability to make you squirm. 

Warmth, followed by goosebumps, floods your skin in the path of his lips, your nipples pebbling. His lips itch to touch, torn between continuing their path south and attaching themselves to your breasts. He opts for the latter, wrapping his lip around a nipple while his tongue flicks at the bud, his hand massaging your other breast gently. 

Andrei’s mouth explores your chest, paying equal attention to each bud, before trailing his lips over your rib cage, your stomach, your hips. He leaves a wet trail, coolness overtaking each spot on your skin where the air touches it, a sharp contrast to the fire that burns inside of you.

The next thing you know, Andrei’s hands are roughly flipping you around, tugging you into a kneeling position with your hands resting on the arm of the couch. You’re exactly where he wants you, bent over, your lingerie half undone while he stands behind you admiring the view. 

His lips work their way up your calf, thumbs stroking the muscles in your legs until he finally reaches the place where your ass meets your thigh. He grips your ass in both hands, fingers running along the seam of the lace that barely covers your modesty. His mouth returns to his hands, pressing more kisses along the globe of your ass, and you whine impatiently. 

“Patience, kisa,” he murmurs. “Aren’t you going to let me unwrap my gift? My pretty little vixen.”

It’s only when you feel the bow at the base of your back loosening that you whine again. Both of his hands holding tightly onto your hips make you deduce that he’s using his mouth to tug at the fabric, teeth pulling the satin smoothly until the ribbons fall at your sides. He’s torturing you now, his warm breath cascading over your back causing a heavy throb between your legs.

All that’s left are the strap of your bra and the flimsy lace of your panties before Andrei gets to the gift he really wants: your molten center, dripping just for him. He can’t help but salivate as his fingers drag the material down, slowly, giving himself a last show before he gives into his desires.

Your pussy is glorious, he thinks, perfect and glistening as it’s revealed to him. He swears he can see the reflection of the lights on the tree in the wetness of your folds, and his dick twitches at the sight, itching to be sheathed inside it. 

“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, tongue darting out to taste.

“Andrei,” you moan. Your brain is fuzzy, trying to find the words to desperately beseech him to keep going. 

He does, because he always knows exactly what you need, and being the generous boyfriend he is, never fails to provide. It is Christmas, after all.

The sounds of his mouth slurping against your core are nothing short of filthy, grunting into your center at the taste of you. His tongue delves into your folds, probing you with the perfect amount of pressure, never forgetting to grant your clit the attention she desperately craves. Large hands grope and pull at the globes of your ass, holding you open for Andrei’s face to make its home between them, groaning against you.

It’s like this that he makes you come first, aided by two fingers that he plunges into your sopping core. Your cries are muffled by the cushion of the couch, which he doesn’t like, so once he’s let up, he’s quick to flip you around and pin your arms over your head.

“I want to hear you,” he murmurs, the remnants of your orgasm glistening on his chin. You taste it when he kisses you, messily, his tongue covered in you as he pushes it into your mouth.

Andrei shifts on the cushion, his large hands pulling apart your thighs so that he can gaze at his handiwork. Part of you thinks the rest of your tryst would be better suited in bed, but the seconds wasted moving into the bedroom are not worth sacrificing the opportunity to have him inside you now.

You can’t help the moan that falls from your lips when he lines up with your center, dropping a heavy wad of saliva onto your aching clit. His eyes are glittering when he looks back up at you, smirking. 

“Don’t even need it ‘cause you’re already dripping for me, Malyshka,” he breathes roughly. The swollen head of his dick probes at your entrance, teasing you, before he’s rutting between your folds with a groan. An obscene squelching noise sounds from the contact of his skin against your soaked slit. “Hear that, dorogoy? That’s how sloppy your pretty little cunt is. All for me.”

A whine bubbles in your throat at his words, your hips rolling to try and catch him, desperate to have him inside of you. His muscular forearms strain on either side of your head, silver chain dangling loosely on his chest, and you grip the cool metal in your hand to tug his mouth to yours in an attempt to goad him. He plays your game, kissing you back, humming into your mouth when your tongue desperately seeks him out, but he ignores the way your body rolls.

“Andrei, please,” you whisper, your eyes looking up into his, the warm brown in them now a molten chocolate. “I need you.”

“You want it, kisa? Need it?”

“Please, Drei.”

“Say it,” he demands, his voice firm but soft. It’s velvet, almost soothing when he runs the pad of his thumb over your lip. “Tell me what you want. You know I’ll give you whatever you want, malyshka. You just have to tell me.”

Your voice is shaky, though the ardor in his eyes gives you the courage to speak confidently. “Fuck me, Drei.”

Andrei smiles then, handsome in a way that would melt your heart if you weren’t throbbing for him. He presses his forehead to yours, a sweet gesture despite the lewd position he has you in, his breath puffing out over your lips while he runs his length over your entrance one more time. 

When he presses into you, all air in your lungs is quickly pulled out. You’ll never get used to the feeling of him, thick and throbbing, stretching you out in the most delicious, toe-curling way, one inch at a time until you’re stuffed completely full of him. He loves it, too, muffling his grunt in the crook of your neck as he holds himself still for a moment, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You’re patient, taking the time to wrap your arms around his broad and muscular back. Savoring the feeling of his muscles beneath your fingertips, you admire how big he is – in all aspects of the word. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, warmed by Andrei’s love and heated under his touch.

Andrei begins to move without warning, your walls gripping him tightly as he pushes in and out. The action alone is enough to render you speechless, your entire body fluttering when his thumb brushes your cheek, his lips ghosting against yours. His breath is warm, as are his eyes, pulling moans from you with the finesse of his hips.

One of his hands slides down your body, his steady rhythm never ceasing. With ease, he tugs at your legs until they’re resting over his broad shoulders, then presses forward until you feel the stretch deep in the back of your thighs. He’s deep, almost deeper than he’s ever been, lodged completely within your snug walls.

Soft murmurs in Russian are whispered against your jaw, nonsensical fragments of a sentence that drive you wild. He knows you’re close by the way your hands clutch tightly onto his shoulders, leaving marks for you to admire tomorrow. 

He says something in Russian, then chokes out his own translation. “Come for me, Malyshka.”

You do, his words the final bit of permission you need to fly into your own bliss. Andrei grunts, feeling the way you contract around him, working you through it like he does every time. He grins, pleased with himself.

“So pretty.”

“Drei,” you sigh, not ready for him to part from you just yet. “More.”

For once, he doesn’t argue or make you beg, probably too desperate himself to bother. The way he can maneuver your body so easily will never not be hot to you, his muscles barely working to tug you back into his lap. He twitches against your center when his eyes latch onto the diamonds onto your neck. 

“Ride me, dorogoy.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, your body scrambling to sink down onto his waiting length with a sigh. His hands flex on your waist, encouraging you to keep going, though his eyes never leave your neck. 

Your body moves up and down, hips moving so that his tip strikes just the right spot that has you throwing your head back. A low growl leaves Andrei’s throat, his hand moving to wrap around yours. Though you can’t see it yourself, you know the contrast between his large hand next to the dainty necklace is powerful, judging by the darkness that has seeped into his eyes. He’s never been particularly possessive, but he does show small flashes — particularly in the bedroom — that drive you wild.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters under his breath, accent making him barely comprehensible. “So perfect. All fucking mine.”

Andrei’s other hand grips your hip while his mouth latches onto your breast. He’s all over you, completely invading each of your senses and surrounding your body in everything Andrei. He curses in Russian, the vibration of his voice shooting through your body as you ride him harder, seeking out your crest that’s just over the horizon.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, unwilling to move his hands from your body to do it for you. “Make yourself fall apart all over me, kisa.”

You’re helpless to obey, hand falling between your legs and brushing at your clit. His grip on your throat tightens, and it’s the squeeze of his fingers that send you flying over the edge, vision going fuzzy as your body shudders on top of him. 

You’ve barely had time to recover before he’s finally moving his hands to grab onto your sides, holding you in place while he thrusts his hips upwards, rapidly, seeking out his own release. The red silk ribbons dangle from the bra that’s haphazardly tugged around your middle, forgotten as they ripple from his forceful movements. Involuntarily, moans fall from your mouth as he pounds into you, wordlessly encouraging him.

With a loud, forceful grunt, he stills when he’s buried completely inside of you, twitching as his release floods your center. His hands are still holding tightly onto your sides, forehead resting against your chest as he catches his breath. In an effort to soothe him, you allow your hands to run through his hair, earning a purr against your sternum.

“Ya tebya lyublyu, dorogoy,” he murmurs, the words falling from his mouth like he can’t be bothered to speak or even think in English. You’re still learning, Andrei teaching you when he can, but you know enough to know what he’s said, and you smile softly as you gently pull his head backwards in favor of pressing a kiss against his lips.

“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, Drei. Merry Christmas.”

[embrassed-dabblings]

Alright so, ever since I showed my redesigns for IMP, I've been nervous about showing anyone else (mainly because I'm not greatest write). But I wanted to take a shot at it

And (from what I think) people liked them, so I did someone else.

I took on the "prince in distress".

To be honest when I first watched hb since the pilot, I didn't mind it. But then it started to grow on me and then it became more meh (It really started when his outfit was switching between a shirt and a jumper (?). Anyways, onto this owl.

Janus is a well-known and upstanding hellborn citizen due to him running one of the most successful sections within hell, but also having the title of one of hell royalty depends him on.

You see, Janus restores things, but mainly magical things. Any magical artifacts from Asmodean crystals to even grimoires, he is able to restore them back to new. He is a well-known curator who is tasked by royalty to store all historical and not so important books of hell's history.

This first fact catches the eye of a certain imp. However, he didn't expect (or even predict) that he was sneaking into a building where its owner is actively awake during the night.

The thief leaves only with a fairly damaged tome, but Janus doesn't be too alarmed as it wasn't important as ones that are hidden and locked away, but the magic within it was expected to wear out eventually.

A few years pass and life is going normal, Janus finished having breakfast with his wife Elanor and his daughter Octavia and they're watching tv together. A commerical break is happening and Janus is clearly uninterested in all of them

Until one catches his eye

One with an imp that looks VERY familiar to him...He's gotten interested and upon getting the number, he decides to help the thief once more to see how far this imp can go.

And that's Janus! In my au,/rewrite, he is not a main character and is not shown much until he gets revealed later. He still get shown but still not as much as it's mainly revolved around KODAL.

So now, headcannons + changes:

- Let's start with the biggest changes first: Janus does not take the place of Stolas. Stolas (the actual prince) is a seperate character from Janus. Also in addition, that Stolas is not like the show version

- Janus is NOT a prince or related to royalty; he is in fact an Overlord (yes, THOSE overlords) as he works as a mayor (of sorts) to his section in Pride. The only relevance to royalty he has is that he works with them sometimes (and are seen within their good graces)

- He hasn't cheated on Elanor (Stella in the au) and the thought has never crossed his mind (They are the real gomez and morticia addams)

- Despite hiding in the shadows and acting like a villian, Janus genuinely wants to see Pyro and KODAL succeed and constantly gives them multiple clients (and pay) to get benefits for both of them

- Janus looks imitadating, but man is a total sweetheart: consoles in everyone, an absolute dork whose head over heels about his family and would invite you over to tea. However don't let that fool you, He can still be a malicious beast if he deems you a threat or upset him or his family greatly.

- His favorite hobby to do with his family is shopping and taxidermy (a shared interest)

- As for prince Stolas, he is one of Janus's patrons as he is a frequent customer. He holds in high regard and sees him as a role model (hence the coat having stars and having paimon's robe palette)

And...that's all I have so far, thank you for looking and reading !!

No hate to the original designs btw, just did this for fun

[stars-tonight]

hi there! just stumbled across your account :> i’d like to request for long haikyuu matchup, please! also, this is my anon emoji hehe: 🦑

main details:

firstly, i'd like a romantic pairing!

i am female (she/her) and i'd like to be paired with a guy. generally,

i prefer not to be paired with a character who's considered immature/childish (they’re better off as friends! 😭)

my ideal partner: 

the type of person that any parent would approve of immediately. like they would just ADORE him! (family is very very important to me!)

i’d also like someone creative, or at the very least appreciative of things like music, art, literature, you name it!

knowledgeable and nerdy guys are also really cute!! like YES talk to me about your interests!! also i'd like to be able to learn new things from them

would be nice if he's a foodie, or gives importance to sharing of meals together

good balance of listener and talker. overall a good communicator! <3

my personality traits:

my mbti is infp (mediator). conflict and challenge has me worrying and overthinking most of the time.

i am primarily influenced by emotional reasons/motivations (though of course, i still try to be logical).

i am introverted, but social and talkative when i'm comfortable with people. still need alone time to recharge, and by default, i am a reserved/quiet person.

overachiever, which causes me some anxiousness and stress sometimes bc of personal standards T-T (i need to be kinder to myself)

i try to be very patient and accommodating with others (but mostly it's also because i am a people-pleaser aaaaaaa)

hobbies: i’m a creative at heart! i love anything to do with:

music (listening, making playlists, playing electric guitar, producing)

arts/crafts (drawing, journaling, crocheting, graphic design)

worldbuilding (original character creation, self-inserts, writing, extensive research on franchise lore hahahaha)

love languages (giving and receiving):

words of affirmation and physical touch <3

sharing meals!

ideal date:

so hard to narrow this down tbh! i generally gravitate to the idea of casual café or home dates, because it's just chill and we could have meaningful conversations with each other.

but if we're doing something special, i would love an aquarium date! (oh my god i'm already imagining getting those cute sea creature plushies at the gift shop... WHY AM I SINGLE!!

likes:

food (if that wasn't clear enough hahaha), especially noodle dishes

colorful things! rainbowcore should give you an idea hahaha

stuffed toys and stickers. i collect so many of them oh goodness

learning about human sciences! psychology, anatomy and physiology, development, etc.

tabletop games! scrabble is my favorite hahaha

fav music is rock & kpop. generally, anything high-energy

other info:

my hogwarts house is ravenclaw

i'm a pisces (idk much about astrology though lol hahaha)

enneagram is 9w8!

hope this all helps! have a good dayyy <3

headcanons

🥛 mr. mature right here for ya

🥛 you can't tell me akaashi isn't the guy all parents want their child to date

🥛 he would totally get your mom flowers when he first meets them

🥛 he's so nervous he's shaking >_< (he's so cute, everyone needs an akaashi in their lives)

🥛 akaashi is a big literature guy and he'd definitely appreciate art of all kinds, including visual art and music

🥛 he's also very knowledgeable and i headcanon him as a little bit nerdy (especially about books)

🥛 while akaashi's not a foodie, he definitely hopes to eat meals with you and maybe even cook for you. mealtimes to him are always supposed to be spent with loved ones, as it's a time to catch up and just talk and be with each other

🥛 and he's a really good communicator :)

🥛 akaashi tends to be more logical in his thinking and decision making so you could balance out and help each other

🥛 you're both introverted overachievers which hopefully means you'd be able to relate to each other and help each other overcome these challenges

🥛 while akaashi is a generally chill guy, he is not a people pleaser and he will make sure you put yourself first!

🥛 he doesn't listen to music much because it makes it hard to focus on reading but if he ever needs inspiration he'd definitely put on some classical music

🥛 i imagine he'd be really good at arts and crafts (setting -> thin and nimble fingers -> good at precise-ness and stuff)

🥛 he'd love worldbuilding with you! he's an editor, so he's not necessarily doing the worldbuilding, but he has to be really good at it anyway. you can run characters by each other, it's always nice to have a second set of eyes on your work

🥛 akaashi is a words of affirmation guy, he's great at giving them but also needs them 🥺

🥛 i touched on the sharing meals part already but that'd also be very important to him

🥛 he's not big on pda but in private will for sure enjoy holding hands or cuddling

🥛 akaashi also definitely prefers calm or private dates; there's not as many people and it's not as loud or chaotic

🥛 he'd always keep an eye out for cute plushies or stickers and if he finds one he knows you'd like he'll get it for you! especially if he knows you've been having a rough week

runner up for you was kita shinsuke!

A/N: hi 🦑anon! i hope you liked your matchup, i had a lot of fun writing it! this was actually a really easy choice, and thank you for formatting your request so neatly (it was super visually pleasing lol)!

[kauli01]

Hi! I’m Kauli! Here’s some basic info about me! I’m nervous about posting on a new platform 🗿😞

♪ Basic info ♪

Kauli ★ Canadian ★ B-Day: 3/10 ★ 18↓ ★ she/her ★ artist ★ OC X canon (SharkJelly (Silver X Harley) AppleShark (Epel X Harley) EggShark (Deuce X Harley) BirdShark (Rook X Harley) BearGummy (Trey X Harley) and so on)

♪ Fandoms I’m in ♪

Genshin Impact ★ Diabolik Lovers ★ Twst ★ Fragaria Memories ★ and that’s it…☠️

♪ Funny notes ♪

★ I mainly ship my OC (Harley) with my favourite characters.

★ She’s just an OC and was originally gonna be a self-insert but she quickly became an OC.

★ I like talking to others but I tend to get nervous…but yea!

★ My timezone is GMT-7! I have school so I’m probably less active (mainly because of how bad the school wifi is…) ★

★ My inbox is open to anyone so! Go for it LOL! ★

★ Every Twst character are my favourite but I do have top favourites! And Skully is HDRIDRJRNSIRI 💕

★ I apologize but I prefer to not be friends with adults simple due to our age differences but we can be moots! :D

★ I don’t want non-sharing yumes to interact with me (I had experience with them and tend to get a bit annoyed by those people, I felt restricted due to that as well and I find the whole concept silly) and everything is fictional. And your sensitivity is your responsibility.

★ I like yapping about my OCs and Harley’s ships

♪ TAGS ♪

#Kauli_OCs

My OCs!

♪ Boundaries ♪

—About OCs—

!! I'm uncomfortable when others who aren’t my close friends draw Harley or my other OC's in NSFW artworks !!

!!! I ship Harley with any of the twst boys (not including Ortho) or medias I'm into since I don't really have a main ship !!

!! But if it makes you uncomfortable; feel free to block me !!

!! Harley or my other OCs aren’t healthy characters and they do have toxic tendencies so please don't kin them since it makes me uncomfortable and don’t alter their appearances !!

—Creators boundaries—

!! I go by Kauli which is my online name since I'm uncomfortable about using my real name so please call me Kauli !!

!! Please don't ask me to be friends with you because it makes me feel pressured to be friends with you and I’ll be uncomfortable, I want our friendship to develop naturally and if we clicked !!

!! I do make suggestive artworks of my OC Harley which I'll always try to add a warning beforehand but I won't draw NSFW due to being a minor !!

!! Suggestive comments / artworks towards Harley are fine but NSFW artworks of her isn't, you are most likely to be blocked !!

Ask me anything about Harley’s lore / personality / anything ^ ^

Here’s character reference of Harley!

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 6 - Three Little Birds

📜 just a PSA for you all that I love each and everyone one of you, and I’m so grateful this group of people bring each other up online then bring them down (for context, I had a bad experience with a social media post this past week (never again am I sharing videos of me riding)... the equestrian community can be so ruthless🤦🏻‍♀️) So I’m happy I can come here and feel supported.

I apologize in advance for a sad Sadie in this one. We also have a little bit of a time jump in this one!

❗️18+, strong language, angst, godmother reader/original female character, deployments, and a Sad Sadie (She needs her own warning).

#5.9k Words

Part 5 | Masterlist | Part 7

You wish you could say you weren’t expecting it to happen. That the routine of their 8 to 4 day didn’t lull you into a false sense of security. That the Saturday nights and dinners and time spent together would last forever. 

But that was the deal when your friends were in the Navy. Time was a luxury only a few could afford. 

And your time with them was past due. 

This Saturday night was designated game night. On game nights, Sadie would rummage through the few shelves on your bookcase you set aside for games, puzzles, books and other activities to find a selection of games she thought the others would like. 

You would make finger foods, and your kitchen island would be littered with big plates and trays so everyone could come and go as they pleased. Sadie would go looking for your Cards Against Humanity set, despite hiding it in a very unreachable place, and you’d race from the kitchen to snatch it out of her hands, always telling her she could play it when she was older. She’d wait for a second, then say, “Okay, I’m older.” 

You'd laugh at her, and she would laugh back. Only this time, your doorbell rang.

You froze. You always left your front door open when you knew to expect them. They knew they could walk right in and make themselves at home.

Walking to the front door, you became nervous, weakly clutching the handle as you twisted, pulling it back to reveal the entire team lined up side by side, standing together on your porch. All of them together, minus Mav? It took only one look for you to know. 

They had been called up. 

“When?” you gasped. 

“Tomorrow night,” Phoenix replied sadly. “For at least three months.”

Something sharp pierced the centre of your chest, your ears boxed, and your throat closed shut, taking you back to that Friday night at the Hard Deck with the phone call. You barely acknowledged the pain in your forearm, where you had reached up to grip it tight, fingernails biting into your skin. Your heart, thumping hard, now aching for your friends and the unbearable weight Sadie would have to carry.

If only you had had this talk with her sooner. Ridley never made it home to her that Friday night. And now she had to shoulder the knowledge her newfound family could be taken away at any moment, the difference being it was an expectation for a possible someday, not the outcome of a random accident. 

You couldn’t help but crumble into the door frame, your head falling to the wood as the first sob worked its way up your throat. Nat immediately took you into her arms, hugging you tight. You wrapped your arms around her, weight sagging into her, as you realized you’d now have to learn how to cope without your friends being there for you and Sadie. 

“Sadie,” you gasped into her shoulder. “How am I going to tell her?”

Nat pulled back, grabbing your cheeks. “We can do it together. She’s a lot stronger than we give her credit for.”

You huffed a laugh through your tears, Nat pressing her forehead to yours in an effort to give you the strength to ground yourself.  You hated when people saw you cry.

Tearing yourself away from her, you looked to Bob, who had moved beside you. “Sadie’s going to be okay. She has you.”

Jake opened his mouth to say something but paused, mouth agape, when a voice called out from behind you.

“Aunt Liz? What’s going on?” 

You stiffened, tearing yourself away from Jake’s gaze as you turned to face Sadie, wiping at your face. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, coming to stand in the open door frame.

“Bug, we need to have a chat,” your voice wavering as you spoke. 

“What do you mean?” she looked from Nat, Bradley, and Jake to the rest of the team standing on your porch.

You reached out your hand, stepping forward to meet her with a sad smile. She stared up at you as she let you lead her back inside, leaving the front door open for the other to follow and taking her over into your family room. 

Bradley was right on your heels, sitting beside Sadie once she settled on the couch, taking her free hand into his. Nat also followed, resting her elbows on the back cushion behind Sadie while Jake leaned against the wall, arms crossed and glancing intently between the pair of you. The others decided to hang back, letting you have your space to tell her. 

“You know how the Daggers are in the Navy, right?” 

Her voice was small as she replied, “Yeah?” 

“Well, they need to go away for a little while. They need to go and help protect some people.” 

“Okay?” she said softly. 

“The thing is, Bug,” you paused, tucking a piece of her hair back behind her ear, “There’s a chance some of them might not make it back.” 

She reeled back, eyes so childlike and innocent.  “What do you mean?” 

Feeling a tear run down your cheek, you couldn’t begin to form the words to explain that this might be the last time she saw her aunt and uncles. Just like her mom, you didn’t want to explain that this particular Saturday night might be the last chance she could spend with them.

It took her a minute, but you could see the realization on her face, your silence and tears filling in for what you couldn’t say. Her mouth dropped slightly, and her eyes started to relax from concentration. What followed was the understanding, her brow furrowing, nose scrunching up. 

Then came the grief. 

“No,” She cried out, bottom lip starting to quiver. “No!” 

She turned to Nat, who smiled sadly at her as she started to sob. Rooster hooked his arm around her stomach, pulling her back into him. Sadie turned in his hold and buried her face in his chest. Bradley dropped his forehead to her shoulder as she cried. 

"I'm so sorry, Bug."

When it came to things like this, Ridley and you decided early on you’d never sugarcoat things with Sadie. Like when you moved out when you went to school, telling her at five years old you wouldn’t be living with them anymore, but you’d be a visit, a phone call, a drive away from her. She had been upset, but she had accepted it. 

Would it have been easier on her if you did sugar coat it? 

She didn’t want to let Rooster go, even as Nat reached down to rub her back. Sadie openly wept, and you couldn’t do anything but sit back and watch her crumble. Looking up, Jake was still up against the wall. Only his head was bowed, eyes closed, tensing his body every time Sadie’s escalating cries filled the room. 

It was intense, everyone trying to get through the game, eat dinner, and forget what would happen tomorrow. 

Sadie tried her best, but even as she sat beside Rooster, she didn’t want to let go of his arm, leaning right into his body as she played the game. Bradley humoured her. If he was uncomfortable, he didn’t let on.

Bob accidentally knocked over his deck of cards onto the floor, causing everyone to laugh harder than they should. You took the moment to excuse yourself, disappearing to collect dishes and retreat into the kitchen while everyone was distracted trying to find his cards. 

Plugging the drain, you turned on the tap, squirting soap into the sink, watching the dishes submerge under the rising water, gripping the edges of your counter hard until your nails hurt with the force. 

It was how you were feeling. Like the world wanted to drown you with things beyond your control, and you couldn’t stay afloat. Your friends were your saving grace, next to Sadie, and now, you found yourself wondering what you might do without one of them. 

“She’ll be okay, Liz.” 

"I feel guilty, crying like this when you guys are going off saving the world, risking your lives.” 

Jake came up behind you, placing a hand on your back. “Because you’re worried about her?” 

“It’s not just her I’m worried about Jake,” you sniffed, wiping at your eyes. “God, I feel selfish.”

“Oh, is someone concerned for little old me?”

“Yes,” you exhaled. “Especially you. I’m afraid you're going to do something stupid in the air.”

“Best of the best, Liz," he reminded you. "Or aren't you forgetting who we are?"

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”  You said, stepping forward to turn off the tap before turning back to face him, his green eyes wide.

“You have nothing to prove to no one, Jake. Please remember that when you are up there.” 

Jake stared at you for a minute before stepping forward, grabbing your arms below your elbows to pull you to stand in front of him. You let him, too numb to protest or to react.

“The both of you are going to be alright, Liz. You're going to wake up tomorrow and carry on your day like you always do. And the day after that and the day after that. You don’t need to worry about us.”

You sniffed. "I always worry about you guys."

“This isn’t anything we haven’t already done before. And I can’t say for the others, but when I get back, you, the bug, and I are going to celebrate.” 

“I didn’t scare you off?” you huffed with a smile. He scoffed, “As if.”

He watched as you shook your head, eyes downcast as you bit your lip.  “Come here,” he said, pulling you into his chest, the palms of your hands coming to rest behind his shoulders and your head resting sideways on his chest. You could hear Jake’s heartbeat steadily thumping away beneath his shirt.

It did more for you than any kind words or long hug could have.

“We’ll be back to annoying you on Saturday nights and back at the bar before you know it.” He said, his voice low and his hand flexing on your back.

Despite everything you were feeling, you believed him.

The night carried on, and Sadie didn’t want to go to bed before they left. You didn’t blame her, watching as she held her sides, fighting sleep while sitting on your front porch step, only lit by the two lights on either side of your front door.

Rooster kneeled down in front of her, a hand on her shoulder,  “We’ll be back before you know it, Bug.” 

Natasha followed, lowering herself down next to Bradley. “You need to make sure your Aunt doesn’t burn down the house.” 

Although she was sad, Sadie cracked a smile at Nat’s words. She glanced between the two of them before launching herself off the step, throwing herself between Nat and Bradley to hug them at the same time. 

“I love you guys,” she said, bowing her head. Nat and Rooster pulled her closer, wrapping their arms around her to grip each other's forearms.

“We love you too, Bug,” Nat replied.

Sadie made her rounds, saying goodbye to everyone. When she made it to Jake, he kneeled down in front of her, opening his arms as she threw herself at him. He whispered something in her ear. Sadie nodded before burying her head into the crook of his neck.

You would have observed them longer had not Bob and Coyote approached you, hauling you into their embrace and reminding you to take care of yourself. As did Fanboy and Payback, who followed not long after.

Bradley had pressed a kiss to the side of your head, an arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close for probably what felt like minutes. Nat butted him out with her hip to tackle you into a hug, making you promise when she came home, you’d go out for drinks.

Then came Jake, standing in front of you with an apprehensive smile. 

You couldn’t stop yourself, hot tears streaming down your face as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your face into his shoulder. Jake froze for half a second before his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. 

The Daggers didn’t seem to mind the close goodbye. Maybe they were too occupied by Sadie. Or perhaps they recognized your need to say goodbye to everyone, even Jake, given your history.

“Be safe, Jake,” You whispered into his shirt. Jake squeezed you tight before pulling back, still in his arms, as he looked down at you. He stared at you for a few seconds before leaning forward and pressing his lips to your forehead, humming against your skin.

“See you soon, darlin’.”

___

Despite the long-lasting promise you and Sadie made when Ridley passed away to be there for each other, neither of you caved in the months after. However, with their absence, it went unsaid that promise would extend toward the Daggers.  

It had been three weeks since they left on deployment, and Sadie had caved. 

It was the same routine. She’d wake up, pick at her breakfast with red eyes, get dressed and stay silent on the way to school. When you could pick her up, she wouldn’t run to greet you at the end of the day. On weekends, she stayed quiet, barely saying a word. And the minute she finished her homework after dinner (math homework returning to being troublesome), she’d retreat to her room for the rest of the night.

She was back to the shell of the person she had been before Phoenix and Rooster inserted themselves into your lives. And even as you tried to help her, she never allowed you to see her cry. She was putting up a front and wouldn’t let you help her. 

You knocked on her bedroom door. “Bug, can you please come out?” 

“No,” came a muffled reply. 

“Sadie Bug, please. I miss them too.” 

“They won’t come back.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

Halloween was worse. It was probably one of the last few times she would have wanted to go out before she deemed it too childish. Instead, she curled up on the other side of the couch, watching Halloween movies as you answered the door, not even saying a word. 

“Can you please come into the family room? So we can be there for each other? Maybe we could put vinyl on?”

You were met with complete silence. 

“Okay,” you relented, hugging yourself. “I’ll be out here if you change your mind.”  

Stepping away from her door, you treated down the hallway to your kitchen, making yourself a cup of tea before curling up under a blanket on the couch. You pressed yourself into the back cushion, cradling the steaming cup to your chest as if it would fix the pang in your chest.

You looked around. The family room table was littered with Sadie’s math homework, you staying up late at night to try and figure it out for her.  If Jake were here, he’d be able to help her, you would think every time you got frustrated. 

Jake.

In the few weeks he had been gone, you found yourself thinking about him at the most random of times. Making your coffee in the morning. Working at the Hard Deck, passing by the dartboard or the pool table. You had known him less than a month before he was called off, yet you felt his absence the strongest.

Sadie missed him too. And that had to count for something. 

You saw her, out of the corner of your eye, half hidden behind the wall. You gave her a soft smile, lifting the edge of your blanket as an invitation. She didn’t hesitate, quickly walking forward and diving under the blanket. She curled herself into your side, legs hooked over yours, head buried into your neck as you covered her, snuggling her in tight. 

Whether she was done putting up a front or the comfort was too much, Sadie started to cry in front of you for the first time since they left. 

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you said, “Your aunt and uncles are the best. I know for a fact they will do anything to make sure they can come home.” 

“I want them to come home,” she whimpered into your chest. “I don’t want to lose them, like Mom.” 

“You know what she’d say if she were here?” 

Sadie sniffed. “She’d tell us we don’t need them.” 

You snorted. “Well, besides that.” 

She shook her head. Tugging her close, you replied, “She’d say we would have to keep moving forward, doing things because they can’t. I think Aunt Nat would want that for us too.” 

Sadie dropped her head to your shoulder. As you threaded your fingers through her hair, an idea popped into your head, a result of the conversation you had with Penny the week prior. 

“How about this?” you said, pulling back to look down at her face, wiping away a stray tear.  “Aunt Penny was going to send Uncle Mav a care package. How about we see if we can send something to the Daggers? A letter? Polaroids?” 

She bit her lip, contemplating what you said.  “I bet Uncle Bob would want to see some of the bugs you’ve seen,” you encouraged her.  

 Her next words were like a punch to your gut. 

“Can we send one to Uncle Jake too?” 

Uncle Jake. Not Hangman, Not Jake. Uncle Jake.

It was only natural Sadie would start calling him that. Oh, Rooster and Phoenix wouldn’t be happy about this. Yet, there was a part of you that was secretly pleased Sadie had, in her own way, officially accepted Jake into the group. 

He deserves a chance, right? To know people care about him? 

“Why wouldn’t we send one to Uncle Jake?” 

That’s how you found yourself sitting with Sadie at your kitchen table, sheets of lined paper and copious amounts of her polaroids in front of the two of you a few weeks later. She had separated a few into piles, each designated for a Dagger, with envelopes neatly labelled with call signs, all organized beside each other.

You wrote letters to each, filling them in about Sadie and placing them next to her letters on the table when you were done. Mav’s mostly included updates about Penny and Amelia, knowing he’d like to hear it from somebody else to confirm things were okay. 

But when it came to Jake’s, you drew a blank. You attempted to write ‘Jake’ on the first line of several pieces of paper, trying to form that first sentence, only to get frustrated and crumple the page in your hand. 

“Do you like him?” Sadie teased, grinning at your efforts. 

“What?” you stuttered, looking up at her. “No, I just don’t know what to write.” 

“You had no problems with the others,” she replied, spreading a group of photos in her hand like a deck of cards. 

“Cause I knew what to say.” 

“And you don’t know what to say to Uncle Jake?” 

While you were glad to see her mood was improving, you could do without the teasing. 

“It's different. He’s new to the group.” 

“Yeah, he’s different,” she giggled before returning to sort through the photos in her hand. Scanning through the polaroids, Sadie spied one she had forgotten she had taken. 

Something at that moment clicked in her head, her mom’s voice forming the idea from memories of overheard phone call conversations and teasing remarks while she glanced up to make sure you weren’t watching her - you attempting to start Uncle Jake’s letter once again. Picking the photo from the group, she slid it under the others in the pile before you could glance back up.

“What are you sending him?” 

“Just some photos of the hike.” 

“Oh, can I see them?” you asked, extending your hand to grab the photos she had put in his pile. 

Sadie was quicker, reaching out and snatching them right from under your hand. She threw her hand with the photos above her head while reaching for the smaller blue envelope with Jake’s call sign with her other. She quickly pulled everything into her lap so you couldn’t see her, placing the collection of polaroids inside and hurriedly bringing the waxed edges to her lips, sealing it tight. 

Her answer was final as she glared at you. 

“Nope.” 

____

You had no idea how Penny swung it, but with her being an Admiral’s daughter, you figured she still had some sway.

Were video chats a thing in the Navy? You had no idea, but she had come bursting through the Hard Deck doors one day while you were working, wanting your email address. When you asked her why, she replied, “Well, don’t want to talk with them?” 

When would you never say no? 

Sadie could not shut up about getting her own screen time with each of them, however, spread out they were. Almost bi-weekly, she was on a video chat with a Dagger. Of course, Rooster was first, followed by Natasha, Bob, Coyote, Fanboy and Payback. She even got some time with Maverick.  And Jake, who still helped her with her Math homework, from god knows where, probably on the other side of the Earth. 

You had to pick. While Sadie had special circumstances from Cyclone (She could hook anyone around her finger, even stone-cold Cyclone), you could only choose three. 

So here you were, sitting at your desk on a cold afternoon, fiddling with the knick-knacks on your desk or organizing your pens as you glanced up every so often to find the spinning ball of death running on an endless loop on your computer.

That was until you heard his voice. 

“Hey, darlin'” 

The first thing you noticed about Jake when you looked up at your screen, even with his trademark smirk, was how drained he looked. Jake had dark circles encasing his eyes, his shoulders slouched, and while you found yourself admiring the cocky smile, it was a tired one. 

“Oh, Jake, are you okay?” 

He shook his head. “They have us alternating on early morning runs.”

You grimaced. “Rooster and Phoenix said you guys are going up a lot. More so than usual.”  

“There’s a lot going on here.” You knew he couldn’t say much more on the subject, yet you still wanted to know how he was doing. 

“Have you had a chance to talk to your family?” His face tensed up at your words, his eyes casing downwards before he managed a reply of, “Just my sister and her husband.” 

You frowned. You knew he was speaking about Janet. When Jake told you he had an older brother and a younger sister, you thought maybe he had a somewhat supportive family. But now, it didn’t sit right with you they didn’t want to speak with him, let alone his own mother, while he was away on an active assignment. 

You’d expect nothing less from his father.

“When was the last time you spoke with her?” 

“Not since I went for a visit. She’s expecting her first kid in a few months.” 

You were genuinely happy for him. “Jake, that’s amazing. You’re going to be an uncle.” 

He didn’t look at you as he spoke, “Slightly worried about what this kid will be born into. If I’ll be good enough for them.”

You couldn't help but empathize with him. It was the same reaction you felt when Ridley asked you to be Sadie's godmother.

"If it's worth anything, you're great with Sadie. This child is so lucky to have you looking out for them."

While Jake gave you a soft smile, he didn’t reply, staring down at his lap for a few seconds before looking up and beyond the camera. You could tell he was getting lost in his own head, worrying about the future. The look on his face was one you caught yourself making in the mirror most mornings while thinking about Sadie. 

Suddenly, he sighed, looking back at the screen. “For once, I’m going to say enough about me.”

You giggled at him. “Hangman not wanting to talk about himself, what is the world coming to?!” 

He smiled at you. “How is the bug?” 

“She’s not happy you guys won’t be home for Christmas,” you told him. “But better.” 

“I got your letters. And her polaroids. What was she doing around an F-14?” 

You had taken Sadie to the nearby Warplane museum in an attempt to make up for her missing her aunt and uncles, hoping it might bring her closer to them. An out-of-commission F-14 had been on display, and Sadie just had to get her picture taken in front of it. She had put herself somewhat out of the frame of the camera, leaning into the shot while holding up a peace sign and sticking her tongue out with a cheeky grin. 

It was one of the first photos she had put into the pile, insistent it went to Jake. You managed to catch her writing on the back, ‘Come home soon.’ 

“She really wanted to send you that one,” you laughed. “We went to the warplane museum, thinking it might bring her closer to you guys.” 

“The both of you need to come with me next time. Get the full experience, history, you name it.” 

You couldn’t help the slow grin, your eyes widening as you exclaimed, “I knew it! Jake Seresin, you are a geek about planes!” 

You watched as he leaned closer to his camera, eyebrow raised. “And here I recall somebody saying everyone was passionate about something? Flying is practically my personality?”

“Yeah, but not the tall, good-looking Naval officer who was probably a frat boy in school geeking out over planes.” 

He didn’t hesitate. “So you think I’m good-looking?” 

“I said good-looking, not handsome,” you shot back. “Your ego couldn’t handle it.” 

“You called me handsome before.” 

“I was being rhetorical, you were trying to get into my pants, calling me the ‘most beautiful girl in the bar.’” you teased him. 

“I wasn’t lying.” 

It took you a few seconds to register what he said. His tone was serious, leaving no room for you to come up with a witty comeback, some smart retort without sounding down on yourself. You had called him a liar then. You certainly couldn’t call him one now. 

You didn’t think you were, maybe average and plain. A person who liked cozy sweaters and fuzzy socks. Who’d rather spend time curled up with a book than spend free nights out having a social life, going to a bar or partying with friends.

Everything you assumed was not Jake’s type. 

Ridley would know what to say in situations like this, you thought, what to make of him telling you something like this from the other side of the world through a computer. 

“What else did she send you?” you asked, changing the subject. “She didn’t let me see.” 

He shrugged. “Just a few she had taken from the hike. There’s one of her and I from the picnic. I have it in my locker.” 

“You mean when you stole her Sour Keys.” 

There was no shame in his grin. “So worth it.” 

You snickered, Jake joining you. The conversation had its natural pause, and the silence wasn’t awkward. Looking at Jake through a screen, you felt like you had permission to stare at him. Whether it was time apart, the distance, or longing. Or the fact you told Jake something so private about yourself, and he didn’t go running. 

It was easier to allow yourself this moment, to entertain the possibility that maybe there was something more than the friendship you were trying to build with him before the reality set in, and you reminded yourself just why Jake was so far out of your league. Why you were just imagining things that weren’t really there. 

But looking at his face, his eyes uneasy, you knew what he would ask next. 

“Any news with the review?” 

You shook your head, eyes fixing on your keyboard. “I called. They said maybe after the holidays.” 

“Liz, it's going to be fine.” 

“You don’t know that, Jake,” you said quietly, looking back up at the screen. “I still don’t know who put in the request. I haven’t been able to figure it out. Even if everything turns out fine, what’s not to say something else is going to happen?” 

He paused. “Would it make you feel better if you knew?” 

“Obviously, but the list is either short or non-existent.” 

“Then we will figure out who when we come home.” 

“Jake, you don’t...” 

He interrupted you, his tone firm. “It’s Sadie.” 

He was right. It was about Sadie. It was her future, knowing whether she’d be safe with you or without. You needed to know what, or who, you were dealing with. 

“Okay,” you finally said. “If you don’t mind.” 

He shook his head, then grinned. “Besides, the three of us have some celebrating to do when we get back.” 

You couldn’t help yourself, “Just the three of us?” 

His eyes lit up. “If that’s what you want.” 

There weren't many opportunities in your life for you to say 'Fuck it' every once in a while. Ridley told you to fuck it when she submitted your college applications and told you to move to San Diego. When the both of you decided enough was enough and move halfway across the country to escape your lives in the aftermath of your mother passing away.

But Sadie's words rang harder than any warning the Daggers, or Penny, could have given you. Jake did deserve people in his life who cared about him. He deserved a family that cared. And the fact Rooster, Nat, and even a small part of Coyote at Sadie's soccer game that day couldn't even recognize that... it filled you with anger.

Ridley's voice was in your head, screaming Jake needs you, Lizzie. Fuck what they think.

If some of his team couldn't do that for him, if his own family couldn't, you and Sadie would.

"I do." and then, "You might have a surprise from Sadie when you get back. We miss you."

There was a shout from somewhere in the background, Interrupting Jake, causing him to turn towards the noise before looking back down at the screen, “I gotta go, darlin.” 

It was true you, you did miss him. And yet, while you were grateful for the minutes you got to speak with him, you still were left feeling like it wasn’t enough. 

“Be safe, Jake. Come home.” 

You caught Coyote’s voice just before the video cut off, not thinking much of it.  

“Yo, did you tell her about the photo in your cockpit?!”

----

It was a few weeks after your call with Jake you found the courage to start looking through some of Ridley’s things. You had no idea where it came from. The storage locker hadn’t been touched since you brought Sadie home - Rooster, Phoenix, and yourself having played a game of Tetris to shove everything in. 

You always had some excuse for not going through it. You were too tired. Other things took priority. You’d do it tomorrow. There wasn’t enough time. 

Really you should have called it for what it was. 

You simply weren’t ready. 

But with Sadie’s first Christmas without Ridley only a few weeks away, you needed to buck up and open that door. If not for you, for Sadie’s sake. 

You asked Alyssa to join you one day while Sadie and Will were at school. She was more than happy to provide the support, knowing how hard it was for you. Even as she followed you down the rows of lockers, the layout making you feel like you were in a prison cell, awaiting your sentence at the end of the hall, she was a welcome reminder you could do this. 

But you hesitated when you reached that yellow door, big bright numbers taunting you from their perch above. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Alyssa placed a hand on your shoulder. 

You shook your head. “Yes, I do. It’s time, even if it's something small.” 

Oh, you wished you could take those words back the moment you saw everything. It was overwhelming to reach the bottom of the roll-up door and pull it up, revealing the numerous boxes and garbage bags of your sister and Sadie’s things. It even smelled like her in there, the small traces of her floral perfume hitting your nose, making your stomach turn.

There in the back corner, you spied a box labelled ‘Sadie X-mas”. You zoned in on it like it was a lighthouse in a storm. Just the Christmas decorations, you thought, then you could get out of here and go home. 

But another box was stacked on top of it, way higher than it should have been, with various folders hanging precariously out of it. It wouldn’t be easy to get it out.

 You stepped between two boxes, weaving your way to the back of the locker. Something sharp caught on the laces of your shoe, yelping as you twisted backwards onto a garbage bag of clothing, arm flinging sideways, knocking the tower of boxes over. 

Alyssa shouted your name, charging forward to get to you in a last-ditch effort. Bracing yourself, you covered your head with your arms as boxes toppled into you.  It hurt, sharp corners and heavy objects hitting your stomach and arms in such a way you knew you’d bruise. 

Pushing boxes away, you could see her standing over you, pulling at loose objects that were pinning down your hips. The tension in her shoulders relaxed when she realized you were okay. 

“God, you weren’t kidding when you said you were a klutz,” she huffed. 

You rolled your eyes, holding out your hand.  “A little bit of help, please?” 

Alyssa pulled you up somewhat dangerously, your foot slipping on a piece of paper as you regained your balance. 

The contents of the boxes were scattered across the storage locker, mostly papers and random notes. You’d sooner leave than start the process of cleaning them up while having to rifle through the spaces between the boxes. But Alyssa was already making the effort, gathering whatever was closest to her and placing them in the overturned box nearby. 

Groaning, you forced yourself to collect what you could, only searching for specs of white in your peripheral vision, not the words on said boxes or stopping to consider what might be in them. You were almost done, spying two more pieces of paper lying on top of another garbage bag shoved into the corner. 

Then Alyssa gasped. 

You looked up to see her holding a piece of paper from a notebook in both of her hands. The page looked like it had been folded over in such a way it appeared to be a letter.

“Lyssa? What’s wrong?” 

Wide-eyed, she looked up, holding it out to you.  “You need to read this. Seriously.” 

You reached out timidly, taking the paper from her as your eyes skimmed the page. You recognized the handwriting, though you couldn’t place where. The date in the upper corner was marked a few weeks before Ridley died, and you thought you saw Sadie’s name mentioned a few times, though it was difficult to make out. 

But as soon as you reached the bottom of the page, you shrieked, jolting and throwing the paper out of your hands. 

There, signed clear as day… 

Let me know.

Tyler. 

Tags:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@emorychase @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Wickett ;)

Part 7 - Oh What a Night Coming Soon

[spiderrmax]

clyde, wendy, & jimmy + a parental friend

request: could I maybe request the same kind of reader [parental] but with Jimmy, Clyde and Wendy author's note: i used the same image. i have no shame. you know how annoying it is to find different images for each post? i don't know why i did that to myself

clyde donovan

A lot of his friends are kinda aggressive; he loves how chill it is with you!

You don’t make fun of him but still are funny. That’s awesome in his head

He brags about you so much to his gang.

“[Your name] cut me apple slices!”

“Last night, [your name] helped me with my homework. I’m going to ace this test.”

“[Your name] was cheering me on the entire game.”

All of Craig’s gang is kinda annoyed with him lol

He cried the first time you gave him something

It was a teddy bear you won at a fair. It was something you didn’t really care for, but thought he’d like, so you gave it to him.

You were so concerned when he started bawling.

You asked if he was okay, and he sniffled out a yes. You then asked if he’d like a hug, and he said yes again.

He squeezes you hard, hands gripping into your fabric. Your shirt is damp when he finally lets go, thanking you for the gift.

He got teary-eyed the next few times you gave him something, but now just hugs you as a thanks.

Any gift you give him is also shown off. He can’t help it! You’re so cool.

He really appreciates you! He waves at you everytime he sees you, and doesn’t care if others find it lame.

wendy testaburger

Is definitely used to more aggressive and detached affection. Her parents care for her, but more about her grades and her reputation. Her friends care for her, but those relationships are very flighty.

However, your presence in her life is very stable. She feels like she will always be able to go to you if she’s ever upset.

She doesn’t talk about you a lot, but will throw hands with anyone who insults you.

Doesn’t get how someone could insult you, and got in a fight with a fourth grader over it.  

You had to clean her wounds after it; you gave her a lecture that it’s not worth it, but also understand why she felt the need to fight.

You buy her bandaids with fun designs: hello kitty, disney, anything you think is cute

Love when you make her jewelry. Will wear it even if it clashes with her outfit.

Same thing if you sew! Any articles of clothing you make will get worn even if you’re the worst sewer in South Park

Always gets your input when she makes lists; if you’re a girl she invites you to her committee, if you’re not she makes you an “honorary girl”

She really values your opinion on those kinds of things, even if the list is best salad dressing.

Always goes to you when she has problems with Stan. Knows you’ll listen to all of her issues, and values any advice you can give.

jimmy valmer

Really values how sympathetic and understanding you are.

You don’t make his disability a big deal: you slow down when you’re walking with him, and mock his stutter.

Also really appreciates that you laugh at his jokes; you’re his number one fan!

You make an effort to show to every one of his shows.

He doesn’t say anything, but likes that he can always find you in his audience. If he gets nervous for any reason he’ll just look at you. 

He always gets your approval when he has a new joke! He tells you first, then the gang second

Was confused the first time you gave him a gift.

“Wha- what is it?”

You kinda just shrug, and it’s probably a toy, and say it reminded you of him.

It becomes his favorite to play with; it’s the only toy he also doesn’t share

You definitely get him those pun books for fun. You know it’s not original material but still think they can be funny.