#I wish I could put more effort into these but I have a major cold rn that ain’t letting me think

[starsanatomy]

Inktober Day 3: Path

[mayasaurusss]

TRANSFEM VIRGIN JACKIE TAYLOR X READER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Transfem virgin Jackie Taylor blurbs

Contains: transfem Jackie, smut, 1700 k words blurb.

A/N: I'm so sorry to have delayed this for so long anon😥. I promise that next time I'll do it quicker and also more explicit🙇‍♀️

It's not as explicit as my other recent Lucy nsfw blurb, but I hope you guys will enjoy it still!

P.s i know that's Rhiannon in the photo, just pretend it's Jackie alright?

Jackie who survived the wilderness, who has come out of it scarred and traumatized. She has seen death and famine, and her personality and mental health become severely affected. She is introverted, shy and her outgoing personality has been frozen under pain and nightmares.

But she pulls through, and manages to go to college like she had wanted. She thinks that she can make a new life for herself, but as it turns out, college life isn't what she is supposed to be: making friends is hard, exams are tough and her professors are just shitty people. After all she has been through, she doesn't think that she'll be able to have any friendship ever again, not like the one she had with Shauna, anyway.

She doesn't have any roommates until you show up. One day you just barge in her room, suitcase in hand and say "I'm your new roommate!". Truth to be told, as much as she wishes for a friend, Jackie would rather have some peace and quiet. That's what she says to herself anyway, until your company starts to grow on her. She didn't really understand how lonely she was. You guys start to spend your nights together, playing card games, chit chatting, watching movies on Netflix and so on. But slowly, something happens to Jackie's heart. Nothing major, of course, but she feels...weird. Why does her heart throb when she sees you? And what about the butterflies in her stomach? Why is she jealous when other guys and girls flirt with you? And why is she so damned angry at you for not realizing their intentions?

Maybe she is just envious or jealous, but the thought of other people trying to get in your pants makes her angry. For a while, she thinks she's being unreasonable: you are her first friend after the incident; of course she'd want to gatekeep your relationship. And after all, she seems only to attract people who will hurt her and who she will hurt. She distances herself from you, thinking that maybe "I'll be a bad influence, I should just leave them alone". But then one day, she makes a connection.

You have been gone to class for half of the day, leaving her alone inside your dorm room. She needs a little bit of space, and she has been stressed for a while.

She watches as two women grind against each other's bodies on her phone, their skin sweaty and their kisses passionate. One of them pulls out a strap and ties it to her hips, sinking it inside the other's. Jackie sits underneath her covers, stroking herself, curling her fingertips downward at the base, when a thought flashes inside her mind. "Wish we could do that..." and her brain immediatley swaps the bottom's face with yours, interchanging you between the dominating and the dominated. Her heart races, thoughts of you two on her bed, together, grinding against each other... and then kissing tenderly after all is done, giggling and falling asleep together. The feeling inside Jackie's heart is warm, so good that it makes her ache. And as she comes down from her high, she puts two and two together: she has already felt this way once, long ago in the cold of the wilderness, and recalls the pain of how she felt when she had-. Jackie stops and understands, an almost guttural "Fuck!" comes out of her throat.

And as if the situation is not bad enough, you come in a few minutes after her little panic attack. She's still naked underneath the covers, goosebumps travel along her skin when she sees you coming in. She makes an effort in justifying why she was naked underneath, "I just sleep this way when I'm hot, you know?" you make no remark on how it's november and her covers aren't warm enough to sleep under unless she wears something, but oh well.

Jackie who feels embarrassed to masturbate from then on. No matter how hard she tries, you're inside her mind, constantly. She tries to muffle her moans on her covers, stroking up and down her length with you sleeping soundly on your bed. You'd be horrified, she thinks, at the images she has of you in her mind: above her bouncing and with your hands at her throat, beneath her on all fours, cuddled in her arms while she moves from behind...

Jackie who has a hard time going to her lessons because no matter what she does, you just seem to not get out of her head. She needs you to have her in your arms, kissing her. Who has to go out of class early to take care of her little problem.

Jackie, who feels bad about masturbating with you in her mind, who feels dirty and unlovable as she does so, but she can't help it, her body can't help it. And all the while, a little voice tells her that "You're not good enough" and "They won't love you, How could they love you of all people? She didn't love you, he didn't love you; why should they? ".

Jackie who steals glances of you, imagining your hands on her chest, your lips on hers. Who yearns to kiss you so bad it hurts. Who has to go to the bathroom at least once per night whenever you two are spending time together. You don't know what she is doing, but shrug off your concerns.

Jackie who finally gets caught by you. You stand outside the doom room, listening to the sounds coming from the other side. Moans, groans, wet movements and little slips of your name here and there make it obvious to you what Jackie is doing. You slip inside the room, as slowly and quietly as possible, watching how Jackie is bucking up in her hand, hips chasing upwards the feeling. You smile, deciding to approach her with a simple "Hey" but your voice gives Jackie a small heart attack and she shouts, covering her body as best as she can, leaving her chest out in the open and her legs uncovered.

"How...how long have you been there?" she asks, blood freezing with shame and mind racing, trying to understand if you've heard her say your name. "Long enough to understand what's going on" you sit on the bed, too close for her liking, giving her a knowing smirk that she already knows the meaning of. "You were thinking about me, weren't you?" her body stops, missing heartbeats and air. She can feel tears prickling at her skin, but you quickly say to her "I-No Jackie, I liked it". From then on, you tell her how you wished to do the first step, but how you were always so scared that she might've not liked you, how you yearned for her lips on yours. The moment you two are done talking about your feelings, you all but leap into each other's arms.

Jackie who can't help but get hard almost instantly. She can feel blood traveling through her veins, pooling at her crotch, warming her skin and flesh. Who will have to clench her hand around her cock to ground herself, to avoid cumming just from kissing you. She will feel so good from just kissing you that a drop of cum falls from her slit, signaling just how full she is, ready to let all of her pleasure out.

Jackie who feels so incredibly good when you ignore her cock and press two fingers beneath her balls, mimicking fingering her. She's already so hard as it is, and your actions only serve to egg her on more.

Jackie whose hands are shaky as she undresses you, full of eagerness and craving every part of you. Who, as soon as your chest is naked, will plant wet open mouth kisses on any inch of your skin, feeling your muscles harden against her ministrations.

Jackie who will climb on you, cock pressed between your and her stomachs, grinding back and forth. Who will get off like that, grinding on your stomach. Who will spend her time under your crotch, head pressed in between your hips and the mattress. Who will feel euphoric and decide to not touch herself in any way.

Jackie who's cock throbs in need, tip and balls red as she desperately tries to hold it in, wanting only your hands on her.

Jackie who confesses, as you are about to push her length in, that she is a virgin. She sweats and apologizes, already ready for you to leave her hanging, but then lets out a loud gasp when she's finally stilled inside of you.

Jackie who trembles as you ride her into oblivion, hands shaky gripping with force at your sides, short of breath and eyes rolling backwards. She has never felt this way with anyone else, not Jeff nor Shauna, just with you. It's euphoric, it's amazing, and she doesn't wish you to stop anytime soon.

Jackie who has very low stamina but a super high libido. She'll release the precum already five minutes after you start to bounce on her, staining white the condom she wore, panting like she just crossed the line in a marathon run. You haven't even cummed yet, and as you're about to hop off of her, she grabs your hips again and mumbles incoherently, grinding you back against her as she starts to harden again.

Jackie who at one point, decides to move you and fuck you from above, fingers gripping the sheet near your head. She moves erratically, gasping and panting and moaning, her hips pushing into you at a speed you didn't even know she was capable of. Her cheeks are as red as a tomato, lips coming to settle on yours as she moves back and forth, back and forth.

Jackie who, when she cums, sees stars behind her eyelids and feels like she's about to faint.

Jackie who falls asleep almost immediatley between your arms, snoozing off with the knowledge that she has finally found someone to rely on.

[elicypher]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 — william j. moriarty

: william james moriarty x fem!reader, angst, comfort at end

: warnings — assassination, gore, reader kills her ex-'friend'

: time has passed, the betrayal felt in your heart has softened, and yet it all comes crashing down like a house of cards when you meet your once 'dearest friend' again. her, now a corrupt noblewoman: you decide to take matters into your own hands. but what will that exactly entail?

tonight's show was a pleasant affair — after reading about the performance at the opera tonight via the papers, you just knew you had to go (and take the love of your life). and of course, william being the devoted lover that he is, how could he refuse that excited face of yours? that gleam in your eyes and that enthusiastic smile on your face?

"i hope you're not too cold, my dear." he whispers, leaning in closer to you. the two of you are in your own private box, seated on plush velvet seats and looking over at the stage where the actors perform beautifully.

you shake your head. "no, i'm not." you smile at him. "i'm feeling warm. very comfortable." you pull the coat william offered you further closer to yourself, rubbing the fabric with your fingers absentmindedly. you're more than grateful he's here with you. after what occurred with your friend all those years ago, your emotions have been on a rollercoaster since, you couldn't help it. it's followed you throughout your life, has made you distrusting of others — you name it.

but william stayed, all throughout the rough times and the difficulty you'd been experiencing. his love never faltered.

"that is good." he nods, acknowledgingly. "...look over there."

and your eyes travel forwards to the stage, a flurry of lights; now lit softly like feathers dancing in the air. and for a mere second the entire opera, previously dim, is lit with it's luminance. it was beautiful, dazzlingly bright and had everybody's lips parting. but in that split second, when the lights shone down upon the audience, that was when you saw it. saw her. the muscles in your body froze instantly.

and william could tell something was wrong, especially when he saw you go pale and how your fingers tightened around the armrests. he puts a comforting hand on your arm, "darling... are you alright? what's wrong?"

it's like you're unable to speak, your mouth refuses to open. so william takes the initiative instead, his gaze follows your own to look where your eyes are so stuck upon. he sees it, sees her. you'd talked about her before, this person who'd ruined the majority of your childhood and teenager years. he instantly becomes sympathetic, caresses your cheekbones that are sweating with the back of his fingers.

olivia. it was her — the woman who'd stolen your inheritance and destroyed your name.

"do you wish to head home?"

this woman, she had married a nobleman. both the spouses were very corrupt and treated those of lower stations than them harshly — meaning they were already on his kill list. but the assassination can wait for another time, he thought. his priority right now is getting you away from her.

you feel a droplet of sweat on the back of your neck and it frustrates you to no end. you thought you were over this, had healed from whatever scars she'd left on your heart. was it fear you felt? or anger over the fact that she was still able to command these emotions out of you? this fear?

"...i," you begin slowly.

william leans in further, prods you on carefully. "yes?"

you inhale sharply, make an effort to compose yourself and part your lips: "i... want her life, william."

"..."

now it's his time to freeze, never did he think he'd have to hear you saying that before. but he understands, this was the extent to how deeply she'd hurt you. he takes his time thinking before eventually answering. "alright," he leans in and places a kiss on your forehead. "anything you wish for."

you stir awake to the sound of fabric shuffling. with some effort, you sit up in bed. it's the middle of the night so you have to blink multiple times for your eyes to get used to the darkness that surrounds you. "mmn-.. william?"

the fabric stops shuffling for a mere second, as if to confirm that you'd called out his name. "you're awake?"

you nod your head, and wonder if he can even see with how dark it is. "you're leaving?" you don't ask where he's going, you already know the answer to that.

"yes, louis is going to groom the horses for a bit before we head out." you hear the sound of footsteps nearing you. the next thing you know, he's placed a soft kiss on your nose. he pulls back. "i'll be back soon.. wait for me in your dreams?"

you smile at that. "alright."

and just like that, as immediately as his footsteps came over, they disappear just as quickly, leaving you in the dark.

you shift to the edge of your bed once you hear him gone, you feet dangling off the edges. there's a grim expression on your face. you've already set your mind to it:

you're going to be the one to take her life. no one else.

living with william james moriarty meant being able to plan things meticulously was a given. and you, too, had picked it up. the ornate wall sconces cast long shadows as you slip through the hallway of the manor. though your breathing comes rapid and shallow, your footsteps make no sound as you steal towards the bedroom at the end of the hall.

in your clenched fist is a slender blade, the steel catching the flickering light as you progressed. too long had you carried the scars of betrayal — tonight, the debt would be repaid in full. reaching the bedroom door, you pause to steady your nerves. beyond lies the woman who ruined your life, who left you broken and destitute after ruining you.

olivia's crimes had gone unpunished for far too long under the protection of wealth and status. no more. you push the door open with a gentle creak, entering the bedroom as soundless as a wraith. moonlight streams through the windows, illuminating the four poster bed. there, tangled in silken sheets, lied olivia asleep - oblivious to her doom.

you steel yourself, approaching on light feet. you gaze down at olivia's slumbering form, at the perfectly sculpted face that had smiled so sweetly while engineering your downfall. and your hands start to shake, the knife trembling, as a storm of emotion swirls within — hatred, fear, vengeance.

no longer will you let these emotions control you, no longer will you let her control you. her death will provide you salvation and peace, you were sure of it.

yet in is in that moment that olivia stirs, eyes fluttering open to lock with your own across the bed. a gasp of shock escapes olivia's lips as recognition dawns. "you..! what are you doing here—" she breathes, starting to sit up.

but you are too swift. the blade flashes silver in the moonlight as it comes arching down towards olivia's exposed throat. there is a wet sound, a hissing gasp, and suddenly the sheets are staining crimson. olivia's body spasms once, hands grasping uselessly at the knife lodged in her neck before eventually going still. chest heaving, you stare down at the corpse, feeling.... nothing.

why was it so? why did you not feel the satisfaction you thought that you would feel? there is nothing — no relief, no catharsis, only emptiness and disgust. at yourself.

what did you do? what have you become?

a killer? your figure trembles as they look down at your now blood stained hands. reality sets in.

a floorboard creaks behind you and you whirl around, bloody blade trembling before you. "name—...?" it was james, eyes widening at the sight in front of him. he was supposed to be the one to take olivia's life tonight and yet,

william shortly makes his way up the stairs, now finished with assassinating olivia's husband. before even entering the room, he'd noticed the expression on james' face and the mentioning of your name. he should have taken this into account; constantly asking questions about the planning, who would be the one to take her life, when the plan would be set in action.. he stands silhouetted in the doorway, taking in the grim scene with hooded eyes.

"it is done, then." he says quietly. "are you.. hurt anywhere?"

"i—i didn't feel how i thought," you whisper brokenly. "there is no peace in this." you stagger away from the bed, wiping your hands on your clothes but you only succeed in spreading more gore. the blade falls from your hand and hits the marble floor with a clatter. your stomach roils and you clap a hand over your mouth, fearing you may vomit.

a heavy footfall announces william crossing the room. gently, he takes your arms to turn you towards him. instantly he's gathering you into your arms. you cry until you can no more, until your sobs have faded to weary silence in william's arms. he holds you tight to him, his chest hurts seeing you like this. it is heartbreaking seeing you like this.

pulling back to brush fallen hair from your eyes, he gazes down at you with affection "my dear, you have suffered more than any should," he murmurs. "let me ease your pain."

you try to look away, ashamed, but william's slender fingers catch your chin softly until your eyes meet once more.

"i will gladly bear the weight of your sins, (name)," william continues, "that guilt... let me take it. from this moment forth, consider olivia's death mine and mine alone. you need not dwell in pain any more."

a visible tremble courses through your body at his words. "...no, i cannot ask that of you. the crimes are mine to atone."

but william smiles gently. "you ask nothing.. i give this freely, for your light is worth far more than any life i have taken." william lifts the back of your hand to his lips in a lingering kiss that is a oath and a promise all its own.

when at last he speaks again, his voice is tender: "let me bear your sins, (name), and allow me to find what small peace i can in easing your heavy burden. say you will accept this from me, my love, and let your torment be no more."

"..." a sob catches in your throat, and all you can do is nod through very grateful tears. at last the shadows, although still heavy, feel lifted. it may still haunt you, but you know that william will be there for you all throughout it.

he will stand between you and your darkness, forever will.

just like he always has, and just like he always will.

"thank you."

© 𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄�� ;; do not repost, translate or modify my works in any way or any platform. all rights reserved.

[mitsundere]

Imagine sweet Geppie with a partner who loves giving people gifts but absolutely spoils him.

Serval and Lynx get regular-sized boxes of chocolate. Gepard? He gets a box of sweets and chocolates wider than his chest.

What's that? All the Silvermane Guards received a lunchbox? Gepard gets a tiered lunchbox that fills him up until dinner.

hi, hope you guys don't mind me combining these asks! i think they're similar enough to be put together :D

-

gepard was a popular young man. he had it all; status, strength, physical appearance— majority of the population favored him people from the overworld did, at least, but everyone knew that their favor could never be comparable to the love that the captain's partner gave.

trinkets were of no use to the frontlines, nor were ugly sweaters (though you wished he would wear something more thick and comfy to combat the cold). so whenever gepard arrives home from work, he's always greeted by something new that you bought or made for him. he appreciates that you make an effort to give gifts to his sisters (and pela) as well. there's a framed photo of you guys wearing matching sweater designs in serval's workshop, and he can't help but gaze softly at the memory every time he visits.

he'd always have the most extravagant gifts, though. his sisters know it, all of the guards know it, dear qlipoth— he's sure that the entire population of belobog knows it as well. a painting in his image (with all of his medals), rare flower seeds (he doesn't know where you got them, not even lynx could find that kind of flower in her expeditions), brand new boots, art materials... gepard appreciates it all, but sometimes it's too much!

even after he brings it up with you, there's one type of gift that he wouldn't mind regularly receiving— the meals you made for him. it brings him a sense of home when he's at work. even if they get cold from the unforgiving belobogian temperatures, he still feels the warmth and love from your cooking. you'd often get carried away with making lunches for him, and you decided to send the extras with him for some of the guards.

on most days, he shares it with them. gepard was proud of your skills, and he knows that your delicious cooking would certainly boost morale. sometimes, it's not enough that he has the biggest lunchbox and most meat out of the packed lunches. he saves one or two extras for himself instead of sharing, though he would never tell you about it.

and everyone notices that the captain became just a tad bit softer after being spoiled with your gifts. on days that he worries about being out of shape, you comfort him. "there's more for me to grab and love" you say, and he lets himself be hugged and smothered with your affections.

[conchoronzon]

Dad sighed when he kept me over after the coding class had ended. He pressed a button under his desk, and the door to the college classroom closed and locked.

"You're failing," he said, matter-of-fact. There wasn't any judgement or disappointment in his voice. Oddly, that hurt more. Maybe indifference really is worse than negative emotions. "You don't seem like you care about this class."

He wasn't wrong. I've got no interest in coding or computer engineering. I don't even like science. I'm a communications major! But I took the class because Dad taught it. I wanted to see the professor in action. And, honestly, I thought it'd be an easy pass. Failing his own kid would be embarrassing.

"I don't have to be," I said.

"You want special treatment?" he asked. Still, there was no emotion to his voice. "Then I'll give you the same option I give all the other failures who come begging for extra credit but don't put in any effort."

His thick fingers undid the buttons of his flannel one at a time, revealing his hairy chest and stomach. The woodsy scent of his cologne spilled out. I bit my bottom lip and hoped it wasn't too obvious. I didn't just want to watch him teach out of pride as his son. I'd had a crush on my dad for a long time. It was hot to see him lecture, to know I'd seen him walk around the house naked and none of these other kids had. But, I guessed, seeing him undress, others did. Extra credit was letting him fuck you.

Well, that was a win-win.

I fell out of my seat and pressed my hands against the bulge in his dark wash jeans. His cock was soft when I wished it out of his boxers, but still it was thicker than my own. I moaned when it filled my mouth.

Dad pressed a hand to the side of my face. "What are you doing?" he asked though he didn't push me off.

When his cock finally hardened in my mouth, long, hard, steel, a true bear's pipe, I pulled off his dick. Spit spilled over his thick balls. My mouth buzzed with happiness. "Earning my extra credit," I said, nuzzling into his cock.

Dad laughed, finally breaking his neutral, cold tone. "No." He slapped his stomach. "To earn extra credit, you have to spend some time in daddy's gut. Each hour you're in there gets you one point." He tapped on his gradebook. "You need 14 points to pass. You manage not to get churned into a massive dump in that time, you win. You pass. Don't and, well, you'll still pass, it'll just be passing my hairy, smelly hole and into the sewers." Before I could bolt up and head out, he grabbed my shoulders. "And I can't let people think my son failed my class." He lifted me up. "I don't know what I want more: to churn my stupid son into shit or to let him out and have my own boy as my personal cock sucker. Those are your options." He licked his lips. "Good luck."

He shoved me forward, and I entered the wet dark of his mouth.

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; alastor

requested by ; anonymous (08/03/24)

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; alastor

outline ; “Excuse me, I don't know if requests are still closed but would it be okay to ask relationship headcannos about Alastor??”

warning(s) ; some references to canon-typical levels of violence from alastor, but mostly fluff!

there are an innumerable amount of reasons as to why it’s damn near impossible to get close enough to alastor to form a romantic relationship with him, but even after you have somehow managed to gain his trust and admiration to the point that he wants to court you things don’t get any more straightforward — arguably they only get more complicated the longer you’re an item

he’s nothing short of a gentleman with you and insists on taking things slow and going about things the ‘traditional’ way (or as close to traditional as one can get in hell) — and that can mean anything from holding doors open for you (either himself or through his shadows) or lending you his coat when you seem cold, to aggressively shutting down/intimidating the afterlife out of anyone who approaches you with intentions he deems inappropriate or delivering you your enemy’s severed head in amongst a gift basket of flowers and baked goods (courtesy of rosie as he’s not much of a baker himself)

he uses a mixture of french and english pet names for you depending on his mood — think along the lines of such terms of endearment as ‘my dear’ or ‘ma chèrie / mon chèri’ — and for his own part he’d rather you just address him by name unless you’re in private and he’s in a very good mood (well… a good enough mood to actually respond to being called something like ‘dearest’ or ‘honey’ instead of outright ignoring you until you actually say his name)

he frequently remarks about how much his mother would love you, how happy she’d be to see him settle down after all of this time, and how he wishes you could meet her — those moments are when you get to see a more human side of alastor, his smile softening to something more nostalgic and genuine as he speaks about one of the few people he truly cared for during his life

he’s not the biggest fan of physical affection in general and will only really partake in it on his terms, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t show his love for you through other means — in fact, as far as he’s concerned, his affection for you is shown as clear as day despite his own dislike for being touched

gift giving — though his gifts aren’t always the most traditional, alastor does tend to go out of his way and get you things whenever he’s out and about. sometimes that means picking something up from the tailor that he knows you’ll just love, or bringing you a box of baked goods from rosie’s emporium whenever he goes to visit her, and other times that means fetching you ‘trophies’ from the people he’s dealt with on your behalf (sometimes they’re extremely fresh and bloody, other times he actually makes an effort to clean and dry them — it’s 50/50 regarding how much cleanup you’re gonna need to do), but no matter what he’s always happy (proud, even) when he presents you with your gift — and even prouder if he comes back to your place of residence later on and sees that you’ve put anything on display (well, the stuff that can be displayed anyway…)

quality time — you’re the person whose company he actively seeks out the most, even if that just means sharing a space as you each go about whatever task you’re doing at the time. of course there are the dates he takes you on (he is a gentleman, after all, and he makes an effort to woo and wow you whenever he has the chance), but the majority of your quality time is spent in the hotel or his recording studio: going about your chores together, hanging out in the common area and overseeing the group activities charlie has planned, sitting side by side and reading or eating in silence, having your meals together, talking about whatever comes to mind when the mood allows it, or just sitting with him in his studio in silence as he broadcasts his show for all of hell to hear

words of affirmation — he’s not the most talkative person, especially not when compared to someone like angel dust or charlie, and is generally more of a listener/observer in most of his daily interactions, but with you he does make an effort to keep up conversation and ensure that you know just how much he appreciates your company. of course he always makes sure to compliment your newest hairstyle or outfit change, especially if you’re dressing up to accompany him to a meeting or another such formal event, but his affirmations go beyond just shallow praise and you get to see much more of that when you’re alone or in the brief moments where nobody is looking your way when you’re with others. for example, he’s always quick to reassure you of how deeply he admires and cares for you (as much as he’s capable of doing either, anyway) by insisting that it takes a great deal to catch his eye and that by merit of being the radio demon’s lover you must be spectacular, no matter what your insecurities may say.

acts of service — again, regardless of his more disturbing proclivaties, alastor is a gentleman and will go out of his way to ensure you’re well taken care of and that any and all unnecessary stressors and discomforts are swiftly and painlessly (for you) removed from your life. sometimes this can mean him fetching you (shockingly well made given his usual diet) breakfast in bed when it’s clear you didn’t sleep well the night before or having his shadow servants do your bidding for the day so you don’t have to worry about overworking yourself in his absence, but it can also translate to actions that are much more aligned with his terrifying reputation — for example, torturing anyone that opposes you (like an overbearing boss or annoying neighbour) into silence and compliance with his whims

alastor is also a generally very protective and territorial partner who isn’t above getting petty and passive aggressive towards anyone who tries to interfere in your relationship — and then if they don’t get the hint and back off immediately (or they attempted to cause you harm) he’ll start getting outright aggressive and make sure that they understand just how much they fucked up by trying to take what belongs to him

related to the above point, but alastor also has a nasty possessive streak to him and will heavily monitor all of your external relationships (both just by sticking by your side whenever he’s able, and also by ensuring you always have one of his shadows by your side when you’re apart) — he’s more lenient with your friendships if you happen to be with someone he explicitly trusts (like rosie or nifty) or someone that he knows wouldn’t dream of interfering in your relationship (like charlie who is too nice for her own good sometimes) but otherwise you can expect him to be extremely judgemental and passive aggressive with the people in your life that you’re close to (especially if they happen to be someone who distrusted him immediately… like vaggie)

this side of him can be managed with a lot of patience and compromise from you, but it’s never going to go away completely so you’re going to have to get used to that side of him early on

[sepptember]

𝐍𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 :: joel miller

paring :: joel miller x gn!reader

content warnings :: hurt/comfort. kinda angst?

part of my ongoing I need to start a garden fic collection.

sypnosis :: joel is a gray cloud in the sky—dark from the rain deep within its tufts, but never letting it drop. And you are the grass—aching for just a drop of water.

word count :: 1.120k

Joel is a difficult man to read. Most days he's like a book in a foreign language, impossible to understand because of your unfamiliarity. Yet every once in a while, he lets you see him–he lets you dive deep into his blood, his body, in every nook and cranny of his mind.

But it's never for long.

It frustrated you at first.

You just wanted him to open up with you and talk. You wanted him to face you head-on and tell you everything he's buried deep beneath him.

You want him to let you open up his chest and dissect the emotions he's buried deep beneath his sternum and close to his old, barely beating heart.

But he never does. He tries to tell you it's okay when his body says otherwise.

The sunset in front of you is cold despite the evening spring air. Its beauty is there, but it doesn't touch you in the way it normally should.

Joel watches it, silent and unreadable, and you wish that you were the sunset. The way he stares makes it seem like he is silently pouring his deep feelings into the ethereal scene of purples and reds, and that hurts in a way you don't expect it to.

You want him to do that with you.

And maybe he senses that. His hand, rough from the decades of fighting for his life and the life of the sleeping girl inside the house, reaches for yours.

He intertwines your fingers as if he's a needle and you're the thread—connected but it's not the way you want to be.

Which is selfish, you think. Being connected with him in any way is better than being a world apart, but sometimes you feel as if there's a dirty wall of glass between you two.

Your hand trembles against the glass, his lined up with yours from the other side, but never fully touching.

And part of wonders if it's you—if it’s because your hands contrast his, having grown up completely different and having found this place long before he did. Yours have a roughness that's woven into the tips of your fingers and palms, but it's not rough in the same way his are, and maybe that's something that disconnects you both.

Or, perhaps, there's more to it.

Maybe it's the way you look—maybe despite how often he kisses the skin of your cheek and places his hand on the plush of your back when in public—he holds a certain distaste for you.

He might not talk to you because he doesn't want to talk to someone he isn't pleased to look at. Maybe this relationship was a flower that only bloomed out of pity—watered not because someone cared, but because it would be a pity if something so tender died when it could have flourished.

You wished you could figure out what kept him from speaking to you, from telling you about his day-to-day, his inconveniences no matter how major or minor they were.

Or maybe you're not putting in the effort? You try, you swear on the graves of your grandparents that you try, but perhaps it's not enough.

You know when he's angry.

You can hear it in the way his footsteps thunder louder against the spruce wooden floors than they normally do, see it in the way his eyes crease when he scowls, and feel it in the way his shoulders are tense beneath your fingers.

And when you ask him, he doesn't say much. He just takes your hand and kisses your knuckles, eyes closed, and he says it's nothing. But maybe it is not enough.

His hand squeezes yours, making your eyes shift from the darkening sky over to him. His eyes are on you now–a hint of concern looming deep beneath the dark brown of his irises. Silently, he's asking you to talk.

“It's silly.” You say immediately, shifting nervously in the wooden chair you managed to make a few months ago. Then you realize that, maybe, it is you. “Or maybe it's not. I just. . . I feel like we don't talk about you.”

His brows furrowed as he straightened his back, the material of his shirt scuffing against the chair, and you begin again.

“I mean we do talk about you, I'm just saying that you don't open up to me. And I don't want you to feel obligated to talk, but I wish you would sometimes. We are in this together, and I hate that you deal with all of your stuff by yourself. I don't want you to feel alone with it all, you know?” You speak quickly, but you can tell in the way his eyes flicker from you to the grass that's only beginning to turn green that he heard every word.

He doesn't say anything. Not at first.

You expect him to pull his hand from yours — when he thinks he likes to clasp his hands together — but he never does. His hand seemed to get closer instead, the warmth of his palm pressing deeper into yours. And that's when it happens—the glass becomes clearer, shattering beneath your callus-covered hands, and your fingertips meet, inching closer and closer until your hands have fully met.

You're no longer a needle and thread and have now become the flower—flourishing as the sun hides behind darkened clouds and lets the softness of rainwater it instead. It'll take some time for the flower to reach its full potential, but naturally, it will blossom completely.

And you feel a little less hopeless.

The flower digs its roots deep into the dirt, clinging to its freshness yet its accompanying familiarity. It is watered naturally now, the sun feeding it and bouncing off of its vibrant petals; allowing itself to sit in the sprinkles of a light rainfall; enduring the aggressive push and pull of the winds during an occasional thunderstorm.

It doesn't wilt, never falling, never letting go of one of its petals.

When you two are happy, it is happy, its color growing; when either of you is sad, wallowing deep in your minds, or drenched in the uncomfortable wetness of loss, it stands strong, holding itself together for the both of you; and when you two are angry, it stands still and listens to every sound of the thunder in the sky until it dies down into the gentle pitter-pattering of raindrops, listening to the hum of the rain against the petals as water spills down from gutters into the grass.

It took time to build up to that, but every bit of it was worth it. Communication is never flawless—it's bumpy and messy. But it's worth trying for, no matter how stormy the path to it may be.

reblogs are highly appropriate!! <3 thanks for reading.

[mandoalorian]

lost in nightmares (leon s. kennedy x reader)

Summary: You comfort Leon after he wakes up from a nightmare in which he relived the hellish events of Racoon City. Leon, who is suffering with PTSD, is struggling to shake the past, and only you can bring him back to reality.

Word count: 2000 words.

Warnings: PTSD, trauma attacks, hallucinations, implied self injury. Hurt/comfort.

Inspired by the note from Leon found in Resident Evil 6 that reads: “To tell you the truth, I even thought about ending it. Several times actually, with just a quick bullet to the head. But I didn’t give up.”

Masterlist

Leon’s body was burning hot when he woke up, his palms sweaty and his finger nails indented into his skin where he’d made fists in his sleep. You were fast asleep beside him, lightly snoring, at peace. He looked at you momentarily with tired eyes and a small part of him envied you. The way the corners of your pretty lips were slightly upturned into a smile, even when you were sleeping. It eased him slightly, knowing you were there next to him, and he was safe. It has been getting easier for Leon since you’d moved in with him, but the nights were still the hardest. He didn’t want to wake you. He didn’t want to worry you.

Leon’s throat was dry and he was so sure that if he didn’t get a glass of water soon, he might just choke on the air around him. He needed to feel the cool liquid run down his throat. He needed to feel the contrast. As Leon sat up in bed, he saw a bright flash, a figure standing at the foot. Tall and Tyrant-like… all too familiar. He gasped loudly and shuffled back towards the headboard in fear, but when he blinked again, the figure was gone. Nothing but a mere figment of his imagination. A memory.

Leon took a few seconds to recuperate and worked on regulating his breathing, before swinging his legs out of the bed and standing up as quiet as he could, still making conscious effort not to wake you. In the darkness, Leon stumbled to open the bedroom door. He slipped out of the room and began to pad down the hallway, which was illuminated by a small amber nightlight. The rain outside thrashed against the window and it reminded Leon of that night, September 28th, when big fat raindrops fell atop of him as he navigated to the Racoon City Police station, dodging the undead who roamed the streets. Leon rubbed his eyes and saw one of them. A zombie— a monster— the undead. Blood stained and ripped t-shirt, still looking almost human if it wasn’t for the greying skin and white eyes. Leon blinked furiously, begging the image to go away.

“Go away,” he whispered. His skin began to tingle, and it was getting hard to breathe again. “You’re not real— go away.” His voice became a little more loud and a little more stern with fury. He was mad at himself. Why couldn’t he shake these images? These feelings?

It should have been different. He was working for the US government now; not by choice, but they had him training under the influential Major Krauser. Krauser was tough and rough and had been through a lot, just like Leon. He’d fought in wars all around the world; and yet, he seemed unfazed by it all. It had been two years since the Racoon City Incident, and still, not a day goes by when Leon didn’t reminisce. He wished he didn’t— he wished he couldn’t. Leon wished for a lot of things, but life goes on.

‘I’m not a kid anymore,’ Leon thought to himself. ‘So why am I still scared of monsters under the bed?’

After a long moment of fighting with himself in the hallway, Leon made it to the kitchen and took a glass from one of the cabinets. He opened up the freezer drawer and took out an ice cube, but stopped himself before he could put it in the glass. The cold against his skin soothed him and Leon took a breath of relief as he made a fist around the ice cube, the sharpness of the corners cutting slightly against his skin. He didn’t wince though, he barely even felt it. Leon let the ice melt into his hand and the water seep in between the gaps of his fingers until it made a puddle on the floor beneath him. Then, he wiped his hand with a towel and turned on the tap. Water.

Leon filled up his glass and turned off the tap before spinning around on his heel.

What he saw next, made his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. The RPD uniform, skin turning purple but still those big, empathy-filled brown eyes. Marvin.

“Save me, Leon,” Marvin choked out, and extended his arm towards his employee.

Leon dropped the glass of water on the floor, the cup smashing beneath him and shards of the glass cutting his leg and feet open. But Leon couldn’t move, it was like his feet was stuck to the tiles. Like his mind was stuck back-in-time.

“Why didn’t you save me?” Marvin called out again, his voice edging more into a pained croak.

“No, no, no…” Leon shook his head, tears filling his blue eyes.

“They’re all going to die, Leon,” Marvin mused. “Just like me. Just like Ada…”

“Stop— stop it,” Leon pleaded. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

“Claire… Sherry…” Marvin sighed, shaking his head. He then made full eye contact with Leon, his face straight and sour. He said your name.

“Fuck you,” Leon spat. He reached down to his waist hoping to find his pistol holstered there, but was instead met by nothing. He wasn’t in his cop uniform like he’d pictured, but instead, a white v neck t-shirt and a pair of light grey sweatpants. He was in his pyjamas.

Leon made a fist instead, letting his fingernails dig into his skin. If he was hard enough; maybe the pain would wake him up from this real life nightmare. He wanted a gun. He wanted to shoot Marvin— kill him for good— and then maybe, maybe he’d kill himself too. Put an end to all of this finally, so he could stop being an inconvenience to you, and Krauser, and everyone else around him. Leon had changed so much since the Racoon City Incident, there was no telling who he was anymore.

Leon fell to his knees sobbing, the glass beneath him now itching against the material of his sweats, begging to cut through. Leon’s cries were hysterical, terrified wails coming from a petrified 23 year old boy who just missed the person he used to be.

“Leon? Leon!” You’d been calling his name for ten or so seconds before Leon finally heard your voice. He opened his eyes, which were now red and sore, and instead of Marvin standing by the door, he was met with you, your eyes wide and doe-like as you analysed what was before you. Your boyfriend kneeling on the kitchen floor amongst shards of glass and spilt water and specs of blood staining his pants. His cheeks were tear stained although he wasn’t crying anymore.

“I— I—“ Leon choked, unable to force his words out.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you promised, taking big steps over to him and taking his hand, carefully helping him to his feet as you tried to avoid the glass. Leon wrapped his big arm around you and held onto you tight as you walked alongside him, leaving the kitchen and heading into the living room.

Leon slumped down onto the sofa and you curled up beside him.

“Did I wake you up…?” Leon sniffed.

You paused momentarily. He did wake you up, but you knew the immense amount of guilt Leon would feel if he learned that. It would be another thing that he’d blame himself for.

“The rain woke me up,” the little white lie left your lips like velvet. “It’s so loud out there. I think there’s a storm coming.” You frowned.

Leon’s expression matched yours and he looked down at the floor beneath him. Your eyes followed his gaze and you noticed his foot was still bleeding from the glass.

“Oh— oh sweetie, you’re hurt,” you acknowledged, standing up. “Let me go grab a Med Kit.”

Before Leon could reply and even attempt to reassure you that he was fine, you bolted to the bathroom cabinet and grabbed an unused First Aid Spray, before returning to Leon in the living room. You dropped to your knees in front of him and began to tend to his wound.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” you said, concentrating on stopping the bleeding. “You know, talking about it might help.”

“I think— I think I’m losing it.” Leon said plainly and without any emotion.

“Losing what, exactly?” you beckoned him further.

Your boyfriend shrugged. “My mind?” he returned your questioning tone.

You stood back up and sat down next to him. You placed both of your hands on Leon’s face and traced the height of his cheekbone with your fingers. He sunk into your warm embrace, his heart rate slowing down from the panicked and erratic speed that it was. You ran your fingers through his tousled dark blonde hair, making sure it was out of his eyes and you could say his beautiful face.

“Is it… the incident?” You use your words carefully after having a conversation with Leon’s therapist about it. You discussed how it was best to not bring up certain words as it may just trigger him more.

Leon nodded silently and you gave him a minute to gather his words. Sometimes, time was all he needed.

“The nightmares have been getting better since you moved in, since we— share a bed. But, I still get them sometimes. This one was a really bad one. I was in the NEST lab, finding all this dirt on Umbrella when… he came. Birkin— mutated— that ugly fuck—“

“And then you woke up?” sensing that he was about to spiral, you made your choice to interrupt Leon.

“Yeah… and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. So I got up and went to get some water but I kept seeing things— feeling things—hearing things. I can’t escape it. It’s too much…”

You grabbed a hold of Leon’s hands and squeezed them with all the strength you could muster. “Leon Scott Kennedy, you are a hero. You and Claire… you saved that little girl. You made it out of that hellhole alive and able to tell the story. You fucking did it! You’re a natural born survivor and you’re brave and— holy shit, you’re the strongest person I know. All the odds were against you and you made it.”

You watched as Leon’s face hardened.

“I won’t rest until Umbrella are done for,” Leon interrupted you. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure the world doesn’t see another Racoon City Incident…”

“Okay, good, keep fighting. It’s what you’re best at,” you beamed at your boyfriend and he offered you a small, weak smile. “Leon, I want you to know this won’t be easy but I’ll be with you, every step of the way. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you so much.” Leon sighed, leaning into your body and inhaling. You curled up beside him and placed a kiss into his neck.

“I love you too, my hero.”

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #372

I feel a little better today. Being downstairs doesn't seem as horrifyingly cold today compared to yesterday. And actually, being upstairs in the warm was a little too much heat for me. So I migrated myself and my things back downstairs where M and J generally are.

That said, J has been out almost all day. I'm a little sad about that, but it can't really be helped. First he had work out of the house, and now he's at his parents' house because it's Christmas (merry Christmas, by the way; I know your world has it, even if it has a different meaning there than here, since as far as I know, Yeshua never visited your world). I couldn't go along with him because I'm still a little sniffly and sneezy; I don't wanna risk making anyone sick, so I stayed home.

I yesterday, I didn't get soup because there was pizza. I thought that I was gonna get soup today, but that didn't work out either, because the place I had intended to get soup from was closed (which is weird, because normally places run by Chinese folks aren't closed on Christmas). That's all right; if they went to spend time with their families, then that's the best thing! I'll get soup tomorrow. Today, I made do with the homemade bone broth I thawed yesterday:

My homemade bone broth is made with so many wholesome and delicious things!!! It's great to drink right out of the jar, and it'll lend my body some strength and help me to recover faster!! Yay!!

I was also ravenously hungry today. I finished all the leftovers I had in the refrigerator – half a chopped cheese sandwich, half a buffalo chicken quesadilla, and the last of the saag paneer. I also made myself a concoction of several different herbal teas; too many to fit into my little glass mug, so I brewed it in a pot, and then put the result in a big mason jar to drink! I sweetened it with honey and... you guessed it, mascarpone cheese, haha! Though I'm out of the stuff now; I'll start using the leftover heavy cream from your cake soon.

...My father texted me today, and I got it because I forgot that with my new phone, all the blocked numbers are now unblocked. He wrote some bullshit about “merry Christmas” and how he “loves” and “misses” me. But. Well. The man knows where I live. If he really missed me, he could visit. If he really loved me, he would have made more of an effort to be part of my life when I needed him most. And the minimal role he did play in my life would not have been abusive. Besides... the man doesn't even know me. He doesn't know who I am as a person, or even basic things about me like the kinds of activities I enjoy, my favorite color, my favorite foods, or anything. He wasn't there for most of the major events of my life. Like. He knows absolutely nothing about the contents of my character or the values I hold or the way I think and feel.

...and not for lack of trying on my part...

…

I wanted to tell him all the things I just wrote to you. But it's a waste of time. As much as I wish that my biological family could be people who are a regular part of my life... all they do is hurt me and tell me how wrong and bad and stupid they think I am. And... I don't have room for that in my life anymore. I'm surrounded now by people I don't have to struggle to get love from. Trying to get love, respect, or even basic goodwill from my biological family is like trying to squeeze blood from a stone; it just doesn't fucking work.

...And it's not because they're bad people. Rather, it's because none of them have been able to do the necessary work to start healing the damage they sustained from their own abusive childhoods. Some of the people I grew up with endured horrors so unspeakable that I dare not write them here. Still, the fact of the matter is that they are, at present, unable to lead lives that would facilitate their healing.

...I'd help them if I could. But my voice is not one that they are willing to take seriously. In their eyes, I am a perpetual child, despite the fact that I'm gonna be 40 in a little less than 5 years. And children are automatically considered stupid and inferior in circles like the ones I grew up in, to the point that it's considered disrespectful if a child speaks up if their adult is objectively wrong about something, even if their failure to speak up would lead to some kind of bad outcome. But at the same time, failure to speak up will also be used as proof of the child's inferiority and stupidity. Go on, ask me how I know these things.

Even if I said anything to my father at this point, it wouldn't result in anything productive. All it would do is stress him out and stress me out, and for what? I could list all the things that happened to me under my stepmother's care, and all she has to do is lie and say “no that didn't happen” and that'll be the end of it.

...Best to stay away.

...And before you ask... yes. I am already aware that the person I'm trying to convince is myself. There is that small part of me that will always yearn for connection with the people who brought me into this world, in the same way that dogs yearn to eat weird things off the ground like pinecones.

Metaphorically, we do not eat pinecones, no matter how appetizing they look. Because they will tear through our bodies, spiky and whole, and then they'll have to come out the other end. And can you even begin to imagine just what an absolute fucking nightmare that would be??? No thank you. We gonna “nope” right the fuck away from that.

I refused to engage with my father's text message for the same reason I don't swallow whole pinecones. Though it might seem satisfying at first glance (at least if we're making pretend that we're some kind of derpy canid), we have to think about the consequences later.

Needing a distraction, but not quite having the brainpower for Hades, and feeling vaguely creative despite still feeling somewhat ill, I decided to work on something else. And then I put the results here:

...Why yes, it is "Everywhere" by Fleetwood Mac again. Are you getting sick of this song yet from the number of times I've shown it to you? Hahaha...

You might guess even without reading the description that I put it in LMMS in preparation for putting it to a music box. Though the song in the video is in the key of E, I've already converted it to the key of C (because music box paper is marked in the key of C, even though the music box itself plays in F... figure that out). So now it's just a matter of arranging the notes in their proper place in Audacity – easy peasy. Tedious and time-consuming, for sure, but ultimately the process is fairly straightforward once you know what you're doing.

I was almost gonna get started on the Audacity portion today, actually. But then I realized that if I start it now, the time is gonna fly right on by, and I won't even realize that it's tomorrow until 6am or something stupid like that. So if I have energy tomorrow, I'll do it then instead.

Anyhoot. Because I spent most of my time doing this thing, I don't have much else to write about today, and it's already almost 11pm, so I guess I had better stop writing here in favor of maybe quite possibly actually getting to bed on time.

I love you. Please try hard not to forget that you're loved, okay? And please... please stay safe out there so that you can come back to us in one piece. We miss you.

I'll write to you again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[endeavour12345fics]

The Aftermath, chapter 27

Sharp coughed, feeling pressure inside his chest. Not good, he thought, but it would happen sooner or later.

That month, a cold epidemic had ravaged Hogwarts. He’d spent the last few days brewing large batches of Pepper-up potion for the hospital wing, its reserves used up at an alarming pace.

Most students had gone through it, but none of the professors had fallen ill… until that moment.

He sat at his desk, shuffling through papers. Maybe he could still finish his lesson plans for the day.

He dipped the tip of his quill and started writing, having to stop after a few words. The feeling of pressure in his chest had increased, and he was feeling cold, even colder than usual. Tiredness washed over him, as if the quill weighed a tonne.

He cursed under his breath. I’d better go to the hospital wing, and Merlin help me get there.

He had to stop to catch his breath more than once as he walked, and he thought he’d pass out from the effort as he crossed the hospital wing’s entrance. Fortunately, Nurse Blainey saw him and quickly directed him to a more secluded bed. He laid on it without a word, focusing only on trying to breathe. He closed his eyes, and wished he could sleep. Sleep quickly claimed him without a fight.

As he laid there, Nurse Blainey went back to work, fetching a few Pepper-up and Wiggenweld potions.

After a few hours, he woke up and looked around. There were two Pepper-up and a Wiggenweld potions on his bedside table. Next to it, Philip sat on a chair, reading a book and mouthing something to himself. As he saw Sharp was awake, he closed the book. Sharp could now see its cover: it was the copy of Hamlet that he’d given Philip for Christmas.

“Nurse Blainey left these potions for when you woke up. I was just trying to memorise a soliloquy as I waited.”

Sharp took the potions, starting by the Pepper-up ones. Philip couldn’t hide a smile as he saw steam coming out of his professor’s ears. After taking the Wiggenweld potion, Sharp’s expression became more relaxed, and he laid back against the pillows.

“I’m feeling better, but I think I’ll try to sleep again. You’re free to leave if you want to.”

“I think I’ll finish this scene first, then go to the library. There’s something I need to check for Charms.”

Sharp closed his eyes and turned to his side, and Philip went back to the book. After a few pages he closed the book, hearing Sharp’s peaceful breathing next to him. Trying not to make any noise, he made his way out of the hospital wing.

At the library, he took his quill and parchment out of his bag, and searched for books that mentioned the water making charm, Aguamenti. He opened the first one and read a few paragraphs, the introduction of the essay already forming in his mind. He wrote it as fast as he could, before he forgot something by opening another book.

The rest of the essay took a while to write, for he had to stop at every few words to allow the ink to dry, or it would get smudged and hard to read.

When he was done, he put away the books as he waited for the ink on parchment to dry. Afterwards, he read a scene from Hamlet before leaving the library. The common room would probably be warmer and more comfortable.

When he got there, he was surprised to see that it was not too busy. It allowed him to curl up on his favourite armchair by the fireplace and read some more.

Around dinnertime, he made his way to the Great Hall, where, as he had suspected, Sharp wasn’t present. Philip first thought about checking on him after the meal, but at the same time it didn’t seem necessary. He would check the next morning if he felt it was needed.

He ate silently, noticing that the Hall was a lot more quiet than usual. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint why, but it was probably a mix of the weather and the wave of illness around the castle.

He was able to leave the Hall before the majority of the other students and went straight to his dormitory. He got ready for bed, hoping to already be asleep when his dormmates arrived. Although he usually went to bed later, he felt exhausted, as if his brain was going to shut down.

He fell asleep rather fast, which surprised him. Usually, it took him hours to fall asleep, and he wouldn’t feel rested when he woke up, but he was sleeping soundly when Garreth and Leander arrived.

[inconsideratekidney]

10/3/24

happy october! i love spooky season, not for the spooks, but for the earthy tones and slight weather change. i have definitely not prepared myself enough for this cold weather and am in a bad mood lately, but i am very ready for this season. i like it better downstate because it's very fucking cold up here.....i don't like it thaaat much up here, but everyone i know and care about is up here, so yur. i also love wearing sweaters, cardigans, sweatshirts, fun socks, ugg slippers, PANTSSSS pacifically flare pants and jeans in general.

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i like that my hair sits on my shoulders and has enough volume that it looks vibrant, but what i wouldn't do to have thin hair that is easy to put up in a ponytail and take care of. i hate how frizzy my hair looks about one hour after brushing it, how it takes so much effort to put it up and how often i see other people putting their hair up in such cute braids n shit! i want that. every day it sits awkwardly on my shoulders waiting for me to give enough of a fuck to do something about it. i also don't do anything to take care of my hair. i just hate it and stick with whatever it looks like. i don't blow dry my hair ever, i also don't wear makeup really. i only brush out my hair after it's mostly dry, then i brush it a little, cuz it just frizzes up and looks poofy and stupid when i brush it out. i don't like how time-consuming hair and makeup is. i would love to be an eyeliner and mascara girly, but eyeliner is so hard. im good with my mascara cuz i also don't want to look like im wearing anything. it's super cool to see the eye looks people come up with, but i wouldn't want people to always look at me even if it made me feel good to wear it and that i worked hard on it--if that makes people stare at me or look at me more than usual, i don't want it.

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why the hell is the boob rock all over the snapchat stories and why are these boobless computer science majors so invested in reincarnating it? it's so pathetic. get a life please.....stop bothering public safety to have to keep removing it after you guys keep replacing it......so odd and such freshman behavior. they also get so mad when you say that it's porn and upsetting women. sorry something you did upset someone else and you have to risk your ego. it's a dumb thing and honestly is such a tech school thing. sometimes i really wish i didn't go here....

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my thumb hurts less, but still hurts. i am uncomfortable with the fact that it's not healing fully and that i can easily reinjure it if i am not careful....hate that. it lowkey feels broken..... it hurts in the bone area if i bend it outwards like in a direction your thumb doesn't typically go. this is like that doctor interaction:

"it hurts when i do this, doctor."

"then don't do that!"

i don't do it on purpose, it just happens when i do life. my bad, doc.

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there really are some people in my classes that stunt my learning. some people that talk during the lecture, fidget a ton and are too loud for my liking all throughout the lecture and they sit right next to me. i am referring to one person, but they really do piss me off. they weren't in class today, so i could pay attention better... i also had to ask for help with the lab and the person next to me was of little help and i wanted to cry after asking for his help because i still didn't understand what he said or whatever the fuck i actually have to do for the assignment. that assignment sucks and can kiss my ass. i hate statistics.

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this blog is all over the place as i am plopping ideas onto the page that have come up and are all that i can remember for the time being. sometimes i write these in multiple go's and i hate it because it lacks the continuity that i crave. i also love sitting down and writing it in one sitting because it develops a theme, but sometimes that theme is very tunnel-visioned and doesn't make any sense at all. this blog is not going in one single direction or even a couple, it's going in many directions and i couldn't care less this time to fix it because i feel like shit.

speaking of my blog and continuity--i want to try to post on either tuesdays or thursdays or both. thats what i did last week and it felt easier. thursdays appear to be the worst day out of my week consistently so i hope to get at least tuesdays.

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why do people have children? i mean seriously, why? because it's what other people do; because it's the expectations your parents set for you; because you want the population to keep going; because you really wanted to have a little girl since your own childhood for vague reasons at first, then realized you hated the way you were raised and want to do better for the next generation and you can't complain about the next generation going to shit when you aren't actively having children? yeah, these reasons are very pressuring. feels rough when i don't even really want children for myself, i just want to parent in a different way than my parents, and that in and of itself could be more harmful than just not having kids. idk. i probably will have kids so i don't feel useless in the future, but also, i don't want to pressure them to do anything they don't want to....idk....

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i really dislike when people get so opinionated that they have blurred vision or even rose-colored glasses on. i want more opinions from different people, but it's also so overwhelming honestly. i need like a couple of business days to take in what people say to me, and that's way too long before people get bored or forget what five-second convo we had that i thought about for way too long.

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i scratched my watch against the wall when trying to get something in between my wall and my bed. it turns out my bed was too close to the wall and i want to truly throw it at the fucking wall because what the fuck. this thing gets scratched so easily and it pisses me off. i hope it goes away this time...it's happened before.

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i am almost completely done decorating my room. got my mushrooms up, my butterflies have a home now, i put my mattress topper on my bed, and i removed the clutter from the ground. i gotta vacuum, build the shelf, put up some posters, and get a rug from target most likely. yipee!~

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i want more frilly socks cuz my typical socks pull on my hair and it hurts like a motherfucker.

i also have been sweating too much in this cold weather. gotta pick one or the other, babe. fuck my body and its stupid inequalities.

oki, goodnight y'all love you,

kD :p

[duskspring]

Snow Day - Aether/Sunshine

Domestic December - Day 15

Summary: Resident snow lover Aether shows resident snow hater Sunshine the joys of the season

Content (do let me know if I forgot anything!): Seasonal depression, fluff, Air (#1) is named Beta in this

Word count: ~2k

“What’s the weather like there?” Sunshine asked Cumulus over the phone, craning her neck up from where she laid on her bed to give the world outside her window a melancholy look as it slowly gained its snowy blanket.

“Way too hot. I thought I was gonna faint on stage!” The other ghoulette complained.

“How about we swap places, huh?” She asked, wholeheartedly wishing she could.

Cumulus giggled on the other end of the line, “Snow really isn’t that bad. It can be so fun! You just have to stay open minded.”

Sunshine blew a raspberry on her own tongue, refusing to even entertain the idea.

“Try not to let it get you down too much,” The air ghoulette’s voice was softer now, very caring, “Go see Aether, have fun together. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Fine,” She whined, “but I expect the biggest, warmest hug of your life when you return.”

“That’s a deal.” Cumulus agreed, before being talked to from her end of the line, “I have to go now, sweety. We love you, we can’t wait to see you, try not to get too sad.”

“Well shit, why didn’t I just think of that? Just gotta not be sad.” Sunshine exclaimed sarcastically.

Cumulus sighed sympathetically, “I’ll speak to you soon.”

“Bye bye.” The multi ghoulette stared at her phone as the call ended, leaving her with the simple black mirror of the screen. She sighed herself, dropping her arm to stare at the ceiling.

She got momentarily distracted by it, not noticing the minutes slipping by. The change of the season hit her way harder than she’d expected. The cold air, grey sky and dark days left her exhausted and unmotivated. Snow wasn’t something she got excited about. It felt like an extra weight on top of her, trapping her further in the hopeless mindset she was so desperate to escape from. The fast majority of her pack being gone didn’t help either.

Unbeknownst to her, Cumulus had made another quick call, this time to the aforementioned quintessence ghoul. She wanted to make sure someone would look after Sunshine when she herself couldn’t.

A knock interrupted the spiralling in the multi ghoulette’s mind, “Hm?” She hummed, too zoned out to try finding proper words.

The door creaked open, “Hey, Sunny.” Aether’s voice sounded so cheerful. It reminded her of how she always sounded before it got so cold.

“What’s up?” Her words slurred lazily.

He stepped into her line of sight, bending over her so she’d have to put in effort to not see him. He clapped his hands together, “We’re going outside.” he smiled brightly.

Sunshine stared at him in silence for a few seconds, “No.” With that she turned onto her side.

“I know you don’t want to, but I promise it will be good for you. Just five minutes. For me?”

She scoffed, knowing he was probably right but really not feeling like it, “I don’t know what to wear.” She used as an excuse.

“I’ll help. You can just put some sweats and a jacket over your pyjamas. Stay comfortable and warm. That’s fine. I have gloves you can borrow.”

“Aether-” Before she could try to argue more, the quintessence ghoul had pulled her upright by her arms.

Once she was sat up he walked to her dresser and pulled out exactly what he’d described, “Well, get a move on.” He said, not impatiently, but certainly not leaving room for more stalling.

Sunshine let out a breath, realizing it would take less energy to just do as he said than continuing the fight.

She felt like a doll, movement impaired by the multiple thick layers of clothing meant to keep her comfortable. Aether’s gloves barely held onto her hands, being far bigger than her size. He held her hand, pulling her along as they waddled through the halls.

The closer they got to the main hall, the more joyous the sounds. Many siblings were enjoying their time outside, playing games with childlike joy. Some others were already rushing back inside, ready to warm up with a nice hot beverage or in the arms of another.

Aether let go of her hand as they reached the door, wanting to make her and her alone make the choice to step outside. Sunshine stayed frozen at the top of the stairs, surrounded by laughter and the freezing cold. She watched the condensation leave her mouth in whitish clouds.

“Almost there.” Aether teased, “Do be careful though, it could be slippery.” He walked back up a few steps, holding his arm out for her to hold onto.

She ignored the gesture, staring at the ground as she delicately took the first step. She was a bit caught off guard by the crushing of the snow underneath her foot. She had to admit she liked the sound and feel of it, even if her main focus was on the tense shaking of her muscles in the cold. She only brought her eyes back up when she reached the bottom of the steps.

“You did it.” Aether smiled genuinely.

She couldn’t help but smile back, internally celebrating this small yet momentous achievement, “Just five minutes, right?” Her teeth clattered.

“If that’s what you want.” He agreed, holding his arm out again. She took it this time, letting him lead her way past the abbey towards the gardens.

She had to admit there was a certain charm to all the bushes and, now barren, trees dressed in a cloak of snow. Turning her head to the other side, she spotted little icicles hanging from the bottom of an outside windowsill.

As pretty as they were, curiosity got the better of her. She let go of Aether’s arm to step off the path. He watched her walk over to the window and push a finger past all the icicles, causing them to break off and fall to the ground.

Without more than internal satisfaction she made her way back to his side. She didn’t notice how he smiled at her, glad that she at least did something outside without him telling her to.

“Have you ever made a snowman?” Aether asked, always enjoying doing so himself and secretly hoping Sunshine would do it with him.

She wordlessly shook her head. She never really got the appeal of putting so much effort into something that would inevitably melt anyway.

“Would you like to try?”

“...Could I watch you do it?” She asked after some deliberation. She wanted Aether to have his fun and wanted to see it happen, but the prospect of helping him seemed miserable to her.

“Of course!” He beamed, instantly crouching down to start on the big snowball that would be its body.

She watched him walk around the small field next to the path, not getting up from his crouched position. It looked quite silly, leaving her unable to prevent the smile spreading over her face.

She made her way to the nearest bench, pushing the snow off of it with her arm and pulling her legs up to her chest as she sat down. Her mouth rested against her knees, her breath warming up the bottom of her face.

Though it took some time for Aether to finish the base of the snowman’s body, it didn’t feel like long. Sunshine was glad to watch him do it, like she had stared at the ceiling before. Except this time she felt something. A warm sense of joy spread through her chest, making her momentarily forget about the cold.

“Alright, Sunny. I need your help!” He called her over.

Sunshine didn't even consider her earlier exhausted feeling or the cold. She instantly got up to go help her friend out.

“What’s up?” She asked in anticipation.

“This fella needs to be decorated and I want your input.”

She hummed, bringing her hand to her chin to physically exaggerate her thinking process, “Well, clearly this is a very dapper gentleman. He needs to have some fancy buttons, maybe even a hat.”

“I like the way your brain works.” He complimented, “Would you mind helping me find some stuff to make that with?”

The gears in Sunshine’s brain were immediately turning, a devious smirk appearing on her face, “I’ve got you. If you search right here, I’ll go look over there for any sticks.” She pointed to an area of the garden with more trees.

“Alright! Thank you.” He sounded overjoyed. It melted Sunshine’s frozen heart.

She scampered off as soon as Aether was distracted, making her way not to the part of the garden she said she’d go to, but instead back inside. She ripped off her jacket and gloves in a hurry, needing more mobility. She snuck her way upstairs, acting as casual as possible as she snuck her way into the papal wing of the abbey.

She made her way to her target. She loudly knocked on the door, stepping aside so the door would block her from sight once it opened.

“Si accomodi.” The voice rang out.

Sunshine knocked again, needing him to open the door himself.

“Enter!” He repeated, clearly annoyed.

One more time she banged on the wood. The sound of an office chair creaking over the floor aggressively made her stand at the ready.

“Terzo, I swear to satanas if that’s you-” Papa Emeritus II ripped the door open unassumingly.

Without room for second thoughts, Sunshine popped out from out of view, snatched the mitre off the antipope’s head and sprinted off again. She yelled back an apology, as he cussed her out in Italian, but made no move to run after her.

Still, Sunshine didn’t slow down for even a second, knowing another ghoul would probably be sent after her soon enough. The air rushed past her ears, heart thumping in her chest like crazy. Her adrenaline was high, it was exhilarating. Her mind felt freed for a moment. It was like she was herself again.

Aether smiled when he saw her, glad she didn’t just sneak inside, “There you are-” Aether froze when he saw what she held in her hands, and not because of the cold. He covered his eyes with a hand, “What did- why?”

“Because it’s funny,” She argued, “Now let’s hurry up.” She was shaking, unsure if it was the adrenaline or because she’d left her jacket and Aether’s gloves in the middle of the main hall.

The quintessence ghoul decided not to talk back to her, stepping aside for her to put the mitre on the snow man.

“You go actually get sticks,” Sunshine was still panting, “I’m gonna make him look more angry.” Her grin was wicked, spiteful towards Secondo for all the times he’d ever been rude to Copia.

She grabbed pebbles, dead flower buds and whatever else she could find in the snow to frankenstein together two angry looking eyebrows.

Aether came jogging back soon after, adding two thin arms to the snowman.

The two took a step back together, admiring the hideously beautiful creation they’d made together. Sunshine fished her phone out of her pocket, snapping a quick picture and sending it into their pack’s group chat.

Aether’s arm came around her shoulders once that was done, “I think you can be proud of yourself. You certainly did… a lot today.”

She turned her head to face him, leaving a quick peck on his cheek, “I’m glad you dragged me out. Thank you.”

“At least you are,” The two startled back as the voice of Beta, also known as Air, rang out behind them, “Papa is pissed. And since I refuse to be yelled at for something you did,” He humorlessly took back the mitre from the angry snowman, “you better go explain yourself.” And off he went again.

Sunshine and Aether stayed in shocked silence for a few seconds.

“Fuck.” She whispered.

“I really don’t know what you expected,” He commented, “Why didn’t you take it from Terzo? He would’ve probably laughed it off.”

“Yeah but he’s not as funny to mess with.” Another second of silence was interrupted by both of their laughter, “I’m telling you, it was worth it.”

[My Main Masterlist | Domestic December Masterlist]

[dollycas]

The Wife You Know by Chad Zunker #Review #Giveaway @chadzunker @chadzunkerauthor

The Wife You Know Psychological Thrillers/Suspense Publisher ‏ : ‎ Thomas & Mercer (February 27, 2024) Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 207 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1662515510 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1662515514 Paperback ‏ : ‎ 207 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1662515499 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1662515491 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0BTQYMVTG Audiobook ASIN B0CC3Y6G1Y Everything he knows about his wife is called into question when she mysteriously vanishes in a breathtaking novel of suspense by Amazon Charts bestselling author Chad Zunker. Widower Luke Driskell didn’t expect to fall in love and marry again so quickly. But Ashley and her daughter, Joy, are special—a quality borne out when Ashley rushes into a burning day-care center to save the children. Immediately she’s a social media sensation and hero. Then, just as suddenly, Ashley and Joy disappear into the bitterly cold night. With no trace of their whereabouts, Luke begins a panicked investigation. Alarmingly, he can find no proof that the woman he loves even exists. Left behind: just a hidden stash of fake IDs. Different names. Different cities. Same haunted face. Now the devastated husband has only questions: Who did he marry? What is she hiding? Luke’s cross-country pursuit of the truth soon spins into something more dangerous than he imagined. Because Ashley’s secrets run so deep and dark that finding her could threaten all their lives. Dollycas's Thoughts After the tragic death of his wife and the little girl, he never got to hold Luke Driskell made a commitment to himself to seize the moment and take more risks. He never expected he would meet Ashley and her daughter Joy and fall completely in love or have marriage happen so quickly. One day while Luke was away on a business trip, Ashley put her life on the line to save children from a daycare fire. She was heralded as a hero and videos of her efforts went viral on social media. Then in the middle of the night, Ashley and Joy disappear. Luke is frantic to find his family, first by himself, then with help from the police, a local television station, and the FBI. He has no idea where she would go and can't even find proof that she existed. He does find fake IDs, with her face. Different cities. Different names. He loves her. He needs to find her. He needs answers. He needs to understand. In his quest to find Ashley and Joy, he realizes his own life is in danger and so are theirs. _____ I have enjoyed other books by Chad Zunker so was excited to read The Wife You Know, especially after reading the synopsis. I wasn't disappointed. I was captivated by Luke's story. Suffering the horrific loss of his wife and unborn child and being able to find love again was compelling. Still, Ashley was different and there were major clues he missed or things he ignored long before she went missing. He is also a wealthy man and while she wasn't interested in his money, someone without the big bucks wouldn't have been able to go to such lengths to try to find her. Luke did make some bad choices that I didn't think someone of his status would make but it was a frantic time so I rolled with it. Even though I had figured out the major premise, I was drawn into the story and had to know how it would end. The use of flashbacks was interesting, as was the trip Luke takes across the country to find answers and the truth. I do wish the story wasn't only from Luke's point of view. I wanted Ashley to tell more of her story. The author has a talent for writing a book with a brisk pace and that creates vivid images in your mind. It is like you are watching an exciting movie. In fact, his books would make great movies like you see on Lifetime and NetFlix. The Wife You Know was a very entertaining read with an intriguing ending. I read it all in one evening. Yes, you have to suspend reality here and there and I am not sure the ending put the danger fully to rest. It may be fun to revisit these characters for another round of suspense. *This book is part of my private collection.  Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent About the Author CHAD ZUNKER is the author of the David Adams legal thriller, An Equal Justice, as well as The Tracker, Shadow Shepherd, and Hunt the Lion in his Sam Callahan series. Chad has worked for some of the country’s most powerful law firms and serves at Community First! The village is a 51-acre master-planned community that provides affordable, permanent housing and a supportive community for men and women coming out of chronic homelessness. He lives in Austin with his wife, Katie, and their three daughters, and is hard at work on his next novel. For more information visit www.chadzunker.com. Follow Chad on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and GoodReads. Also written by Chad Zunker This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you. Thank you for supporting Escape With Dollycas. I am giving away 1 Kindle copy! The contest is open to anyone over 18 years old. Duplicate entries will be deleted. Void where prohibited. You do not have to be a follower to enter but I hope you will find something you like here and become a follower. Followers Will Receive 2 Bonus Entries For Each Way They Follow. Plus 2 Bonus Entries For Following My Facebook Fan Page. Add this book to your WANT TO READ shelf on GoodReads for 3 Bonus Entries. Pin this giveaway to Pinterest for 3 Bonus Entries. If you share the giveaway on Threads, X, or Facebook or anywhere you will receive 5 Bonus Entries For Each Link. The  Contest Will End on August 15, 2024, at 11:59 PM CST The Winner Will Be Chosen Using Random.org The Winner Will Be Notified By Email and Will Be Posted Here In The Sidebar. Click Here For Entry Form *I  purchased this book from Amazon for my private collection. Read the full article

[valentinstjohn]

An educated risk, reassuring words that he did not need to complete his end of the bargain, but what man would he be if he did not at the very least devote a good attempt. At what point was enough considered enough before failure could be accepted and defeat acknowledged? If he applied the same thought process to his own work which provided countless failures one after the other after endless decades of failed experiments and setbacks, then he would have put an end to his work a century ago. No, he could no more stop working on the mystery of her wings than he could his own passion and the benefit of his vampirism would be that he had the whole of eternity to do so. Even if fate should rip her from him prematurely and the necessity of fulfilling his promise to her no longer applied because her body decayed in the earth or because she no longer wished to be near him, he would still continue to find a way to restore her wings.

He had been a moment away from telling her the same, that he was determined to restore her wings and he had managed to save them from the fire so that he could continue to do so, coming to the determination that keeping such information from her as he had done in the past was no longer the best course of action when her words came first and halted the ones that had yet to form.

She did not restore the bond between them, allowing him to find her in this wood, because of her wings.

Her confession came softly and Valentin, so unused to being caught off guard, was sundered by her declaration, understanding enough of the foreign tongue to know her meaning. Once again, the woman who had always seemed to find new ways to surprise the vampire managed to do so once more. Cold fingertips trailed down the side of her arm, letting the dark strands of her hair fall away from his fingers so that he could instead take up her hand that curled around the crest of his earlobe. "Belle," a hushed whisper that mirrored the gentleness of the breeze which whipped the tent's opening and rustled dry leaves above them, "I had not dared to hope," a quiet admission of his internal feelings being now laid bare. Fingers slid between her own until slender digits could intwine and he could guide her hand up to his lips where the soft divot of his cupid's bow could brush affectionately across the backs of her knuckles. He kept his warm and cool gaze on her, unblinking, "I am yours, body, heart, and mind," the traditional declaration being body, heart and soul, but as a vampire, the soul part was up for debate and for Valentin, his mind was worth more than whatever fractured remnants of his soul remained. With his mind, he would think on her always.

He was simple and clumsy in the art of romance, a finesse he had not felt he had enough practice with despite his long life and did not have long winded poetic declarations and sonnets that he could now provide to her to express his feelings for her. He had always been a man of action rather than a man of words and so, in his way, the best way he knew how to express his feelings for her had been in his continued efforts to restore her wings to her and now given the opportunity, he revealed, with his lips still chastely pressed against the back of her knuckles, and his other hand now moved to caress gently the side of her neck, thumb beneath her jawline, applying soft pressure to lull her in closer, "I know, as you say, I do not owe you this but I preserved your wings from the flames," for him, this was as good as a declaration of affection, for he had chosen to save her wings over a majority of his own work.

Much as he had remained silent while she spoke, Bella offered him the same. It was strange sometimes. So much physically about them could rush, and they utilised it for the most part, Bella aware Valentin could finish any of the books she had left in the cabin before the sun rose, but life itself...experiencing it, seemed like there was no need to hurry. There was no desire as she stood before him on the soft soil to rush upon a response in case he left before she could give it. She could listen, and even if his words tugged at her soul with answers she didn't so much as part her lips.

'In that state.' With the words Bella knew she should have waited for an explanation, even if she also knew that perhaps she had not been in the mind set for it yet she could still recognise that there was one, a reasonable one, one she had oddly not considered. Much as he had not thought of the emotional reaction to her wings being connected to other elements of her past, Bella had not considered Valentin might still hold some obligation to their initial contract with one another. As her eyes lingered with tears she felt some for him, for the fact he had likely not only been hurt when she ran from him, but when she violently reacted to his efforts to give her what he had promised.

The fingers she had against his chest scratched softly, the sound of tree branches scraping against one another exaggerating the tender gesture. "You don't owe me my wings," Bella whispered back, nails softly moving down and then up again. The light green to her eyes somewhat subdued in the night likely still touched with their cool tone in the eyes of the vampire male's she observed fully with her damp gaze. Bella wanted those wings, desperately, even now she felt the strength in her shoulder blades ready to carry them, but she had never felt he had mislead her for his own ends. "I took an educated risk," she shared of her understanding of the arrangement that had been made.

Beyond the contractual agreement they'd had however, she felt his intentions. "Thank you, for wanting to protect me," she answered of his apology, not going to refute it because it seemed dismissive to the rarity in which he offered them to insist he should not. "To protect my heart," Bella uttered as the tent's opening flapped in the slow wind, lightly moving over him once more, and herself, showing the way her lips parted as she considered her words.

It would have been safe, to ask him in that moment if he had wanted to protect her heart because he wished to be in it, to ask him first how he felt and hide how she did were the answer one that showed he simply cared for her as a successful spawn and comfortable companion, not as a romantic desire. So many years she had spent refusing to move forward, and she did not desire that any longer, to avoid hurt at all costs.

Her fingers flattened once more against him, slowly pushing up fabric until the prints of her fingers touched the side of his neck. The woman's nerves already devouring her, every sound around them heightened as instinct in her form desired to protect itself, listening to the rustling of leaves as insects moved across tree roots, the heavy breaths of her wolves creating puffs of smoke in the cool night air and the scent of his cologne, so familiar, filling her lungs as she breathed him in.

"I didn't reconnect our bond for my wings," she told him, her index finger behind his ear, softly shifting as she had done on his chest, so he could feel the edge of it beneath his earlobe. "I broke how i had been shielding myself because I wanted you. As I wanted you then but could not bring my body, muscles made of haunting memories, to act on." It did hold shame, to learn she was ready was to learn by wanting another, but while she would share those details with him, they were not pertinent to her confession. "To dance with you brought me more joy than I had ever felt, to learn in your home gave me purpose gifted solely to myself, I felt your care for my heart each day, and I cannot change I was not ready for any of it then but I am now. I want your heart and form entangled with mine, mon âmes seuors, pour l'aéternum."

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: This land is my land

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)   Conflict: Fenix Alliance/Human War. Alias: War of Broken Suns Summary: Border disputes between the Terran Republic and Fenix Alliance escalated into all-out war during the year of 3056.

Initial gains made by the Fenix Alliance were swift and projections of a total Terran collapse were predicted within sixteen months. However,  what the Alliance had not expected was with the speed in which humanity could shift industry to a total war footing.

By the mark of the second year the Terran Republic had halted the steady advance of the Fenix Alliance and began launching a series of counter attack all along the front line. Having stretched their supplies lines to maintain their earlier gains the Alliance quickly found their forces too widely spread out and easily picked off one engagement at a time. Following the disastrous battle of the Seven Stars, the Fenix Alliance military teetered on total collapse after the loss of the majority of their senior leadership. To add further strain to the war effort the outlining colonies of the alliance had all fallen under Terran control and human fleets were poised to enter the core worlds of the alliance.

Faced with imminent invasion of prime manufacturing worlds and the most heavily populated planets in the entire alliance, the remaining government officials reached out to Terran leaders and offered their surrender.

It was hoped that with this act the war would see an end to the suffering of their people; how little they knew of humanity’s vengeance. ------------------------------------

“These terms are outrageous!”

Tarsu threw the stack of documents back across the table in disgust. The shower of paper forms landing in front of the seemingly uninterested human delegation as Tarsu’s fury vented.

“Why would you ever believe we would agree to these terms?!”

The meeting had started not more than five minutes ago when the human delegation entered the room and quietly handed Tarsu and his fellow delegates of the alliance a series of forms dictating their terms for peace.

If Tarsu’s outburst had shaken them at all they were skilled at hiding it for he saw upon each of their faces a cold stare of indifference. Worse, they saw him as nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum; which only sought to enflame his anger further.

“Please calm yourself,” Tarsu’s fellow delegate Marox said as he placed a calming hand on his shoulder, “this is no time for raised voices.”

“But-“ Tarsu began before he felt the hand on his shoulder tighten. No further words were needed between the two of them and so Tarsu sat back down while Marox addressed the humans.

“I apologize for my friend’s behavior,” he began sweetly, “these last few months has been most trying for all of us.”

The lead human negotiator, Lin Zhao if Tarsu remembered the alien’s introduction, nodded quietly.

“Of course; the savagery of war often brings out the worst of any people.” Lin remarked softly. He looked past Marox at Tarsu and the pair locked eyes for a moment. A moment that was all Tarsu needed to know that this human was lying through his teeth with every word.

“Which is all the more reason we should conclude such…uncivilized actions with the agreements put forward today so we may work together to build upon a brighter future between our two peoples.”

Taru opened his mouth to mock this human but Marox spoke first.

“As do we, but you must admit these opening terms are rather confusing.”

Marox picked up his own copy of the planned peace treaty and turned to the third page.

“Specifically,” he began as he pointed to a certain section of the document, “I believe there was some form of translator error as it says you wish us to hand over four colony systems to you.”

Lin said nothing as he opened his copy of the agreement and turned to the page Marox had mentioned. He read it quietly before closing it and looking back up at Marox.

“There was no translation error, the peace treaty is contingent on the handover of these territories as well as any preexisting or future claims to them to the Terran Republic until the end of time.”

Marox’s mouth hung open in disbelief as Lin scanned the delegates opposite him.

“If there are any further discrepancies you wish to speak of please feel free to mention them now and I can clarify any misund-“

“Shut it!” Tarsu shouted as he was once more on his feet.

“What thinks you can steal our lands and claim them as your own?” he demanded.

Lin shrugged dismissively. “We conquered them four months ago for starters.”

Tarsu and Marox were left speechless by the brazenness of this human but Lin continued.

“We also require you to remove all military installations along the border with these territories which will be transformed into a Demilitarized Zone where no military force of either of our respective peoples will enter.”

As if sensing some further outburst to come Lin opened his hands in a giving gesture. “Those systems will of course still reside under your authority and can be administrated however you wish so long as no military forces are present in the DMZ.”

“Oh can they?” Tarsu retorted angrily, “How very benevolent of you to allow us to govern our own territories.”

“If that is unacceptable we can retain those systems as well.” Lin said as he cocked his head to the side and stared Tarsu down.

There was no emotion behind those eyes now. No anger, no empathy, no compassion; only a cold calculating logic that left the Alliance delegates uneasy.

“Tarsu!” Marox whispered harshly under his breath, “Sit. Down. Now.”

Before Tarsu had even taken his seat again Marox shaking his head at Lin. “Your original offer is much more preferable.” He began, shooting Tarsu the quickest of glances for silence as he was about to retort once more. “I think we should resume the main discussion again so we forgo any further confusion as we discuss.”

“I am afraid there is already a grave misunderstanding between us.”

Lin’s words surprised the alliance delegation as now the human stood up and slowly slid their copy of the peace treaty back towards Tarsu.

“You are operating under the presumption that this is a negotiation where we barter back and forth, trade saber thrusts and parries, and eventually walk away with each of us feeling like we have accomplished something.”

“This is not the current situation you find yourself in.” Lin tapped the document pointedly as if to emphasize his words.

“This is not a negotiation, this is a dictation; you will agree to these terms or the war will continue.”

Silence greeted the conference room as neither party spoke. Each of the alliance delegates eyed themselves in nervous fear and realization. Tarsu imagined that some of them had expected humanity to be just as equally tired of war when these talks began and that the terms would not be as harsh, but Tarsu had known all along that when humanity had the upper hand they would use it to the full extent. It was Marox to break the silence after what felt like an eternity.

“Surely you must understand,” his voice spoke pleadingly, “that these terms are far from equal.”

To Tarsu’s surprise Lin nodded in agreement. “That is true,” he said calmly, “but we just do not care for your perspective.”

Marox slumped back into his chair defeated; his arms slumping as if the weight of the universe itself suddenly came crashing down on him.

Tarsu did not waiver however and asked Lin “And what is to become of our people in those systems you would snatch away from us like cravens in the night?”

Lin reclined back into his chair and clasped his fingers together. “They will of course be given the option to return to your sovereign territories and remain citizens of the Fenix Alliance; but after thirty days any who remain will become citizens of the Terran Republic and will fall under the laws and mandates of our governing bodies.”

“You are not content to steal our lands, so you must steal our citizens as well!?” one of the alliance delegates spoke up next to Tarsu.

Lin looked at the alien as if they were nothing more than an annoying insect buzzing around his head.

“They have thirty days to leave, in which time we will provide transportation for them to ease the burden of their relocation.”

Before any of the other alliance delegates could speak, Lin stood up along with the rest of the human delegation in tow. “There is nothing more to discuss for this treaty.” Lin said calmly as he pulled out a strange circular device from inside his clothing and looked down at it. “You have until this time tomorrow to discuss it with your leaders at which time we will demand an answer.”

With this the human delegation began filing out of the room to the shocked expressions of the Fenix Alliance delegation. Lin was last to reach the door but stopped inside the doorframe and turned back to the group.

“I would like to remind you, that should you reject these conditions the war will resume; and the next time we sit down to talk of peace our terms will be..” he paused while fixing a cold gaze on Tarsu, “more substantial, with what we demand for peace.”

With that ominous warning the human left the room and brought a final curtain to a needless war.

[lokiskitten]

Hiii! Hope you have an amazing day! I was wondering if you still take requests. Once more tom is a stepdad. He witnesses that you are masturbating. But you don’t know he saw you. And his overwhelming grows when everytime he thinks about what he saw. Something like that.

Tom Hiddleston | sneaky voyeur

Stepdad!Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

plot : thinking you’re home alone, you decide to put efforts into pleasing yourself, and that without bothering to close your bedroom door. However, your stepdad unexpectedly got home early and is soon to be lured by the moans coming from your bedroom. What will happen when the man catches you in the act?

warnings : stepdad trope, masturbation ( both f&m ), voyeurism, unaware!reader.

After spending quite a rough day, you had come home to what appeared to be an empty household. However, loneliness wasn’t necessarily meant to be a bother, especially not in your case. You enjoyed being gifted with calm time by yourself, which often gave you the occasion to finish important duties or simply occupy the living room in order to watch a movie until your mother, always followed by your stepdad, would come home. But today was different. You didn’t feel the need to do anything fulfilling, especially not after this long day. In contrary, what you needed was something which would allow you to relax. And you already had a specific idea in mind.

After closing the door and removing your shoes, you took the initiative to make your way upstairs and regain your bedroom. Your bag dropped to the floor as soon as you took a single step inside of the room, your jacket being next before you were the one to drop against your bedsheets. A sigh escaped your lips, muscles finally being able to rest for the first time since you had woken up- which could only awaken this envy that had progressively started to grow inside of you. One of the reasons to why you always hopped on the occasion to masturbate whenever your were alone was that you didn’t have to worry about someone suddenly attempting to walk in.

Indeed, you were free to fully undress and even leave the door open if you wished- which you did. Your brain being free from having to remain on guard of a potential interruption, the pleasure could only feel even better and twice more intense. It was something you had learned to discover through time, boredom leading you to progressively experience more about yourself and get to know your desires better than you once did. It was all very blissful.

Your hands began with offering your stomach and breasts gentle caresses, leading your nipples to harden now that they were exposed to your touch and cold air. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you allowed yourself to get completely comfortable against the bedsheets, nearly drowning in your own covers as you decided to skip to the next level. The tip of your fingers were soon to come in contact with your clit, rubbing the flesh up and down in order to initiate pleasure in your lower body. It took a few seconds for you to start to feel truly aroused, the rubs you forced on your bud turning out to be more efficient than you thought they would. However, you couldn’t have planned what was about to happen.

Tom’s boss had allowed the man to go home early after this one had successfully finished one of his major tasks. He said that it was a well deserved reward, and of course the British man wouldn’t deny such a heavenly opportunity. The door swung open again, revealing a tired Tom who slowly made his way inside of the house before taking care of gently closing the door. He wasn’t the type to slam it shut, and he never had been. Though if it hadn’t been for your stepdad’s recurring habits, you would’ve probably managed to avoid what was about to happen. Indeed, as he removed his shoes, Tom’s ears caught glimpse of what appeared to be gentle moans and whines coming from upstairs. If he felt confused at first, he was soon to understand that only two possibilities were lying down on the table.

He first thought that maybe it could’ve been your mother, though his mind was soon to assimilate how different those moans sounded from the ones he knew too well. Therefore, there was only one remaining option. It had to be you. The grown man couldn’t help but cringe face to this undeniable reality, though the other side of his mind easily felt attracted by the thought of your youthful self pleasing yourself. Making sure it was you couldn’t hurt, right? Tom thought that maybe if he was silent enough, he would manage to get a peek of your activities without disturbing you in any way. Which was wrong, of course, but it’s not like your stepdad truly cared when there wouldn’t be any witnesses.

Indeed, he had always felt some kind of attraction to you, taking time to analyze your mindsets and characteristics whenever he got the chance to spend some time with you. He thought that you were quite pretty, gifted with a form of youthful elegance he couldn’t appear to properly explain. And just like that, Tom was now on his way upstairs- trying his best to keep his steps as silent as he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t notice that he had gotten home. So far the moans hadn’t stopped, which could only underline the fact that you indeed remained unaware of his presence within the house. After reaching the top of the stairwell, the grown man began to step towards your bedroom, noticing how the door had been left slightly opened- just enough for him to be able to see what he wanted to witness.

His face was soon to appear through the crack of the door, blue eyes watching as your silhouette lied down onto your bed whilst your hands continued to please your cunt. A shaky breath escaped Tom’s lips, who at first was tempted to walk away and respect your privacy. But unfortunately, his crotch was now beginning to grow truly affected by what he was witnessing, leading the man to take the selfish decision to stay where he’s been standing since a few seconds now. After all, he simply couldn’t deny the offer that was to witness such an appetizing sight. Therefore, Tom remained where he stood whilst you carried on pleasuring yourself without being aware of his presence.

Saying you had never been attracted to your stepdad would’ve been a lie, but it wasn’t something you were willing to speak on about either. It was your dirty secret which you kept locked away from your mother; and anyone really; to make sure you’d preserve your good reputation. You’ve always wondered how it felt like to be sharing beds with him just like your mom did, how it felt to be able to publicly admit and show that you were leading a happy relationship with him. Part of you was jealous, yet you were mature enough to realize that it was nothing but a crush you would eventually get bored of some time soon. But now that would be difficult seeing how the man you craved lived in the same house as you did.

The two of you secretly longed for one another, though the difference was Tom simply refused to admit it. He knew that if he ever did anything, your mother would’ve never been able to forgive him and that wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. He enjoyed the comfort of the home they had built together, and that wasn’t something he was willing to let go of any time soon. However, the repressed feelings he carried for you were slowly starting to consume the man from within- and eventually it led the two of you to end up in situations such as this one, which on top of that you remained absolutely unaware of.

Not being able to contain himself any longer, Tom’s hands silently slid down to the button of his pants which he started to remove from its hook before proceeding to slide the zipper as further as it potentially could. His breath wouldn’t cease to shake, both anxiety and excitement leading a battle within his mind to see which one of them would end up being the great winner. His cock had already started to harden beneath his underwear, making it even harder for the older man to resist the painful temptation that was touching himself to the sight of you. Tom was simply scared to get caught, and he could only begin to imagine how much embarrassment would be taking over his soul if that ever happened.

And as you now rolled onto your stomach in order to tease your clit from another angle, your stepdad felt his crotch nearly explode upon receiving a clear wide angle shot of your spread buttcheeks. This had managed to officially push him over the edge, his hand now sliding down his briefs in order to give his member what it was craving for : touch. His cold fingers were soon to come in contact with his boiling shaft, feeling the smoothness of his skin which was adorned of a couple of fainted veins here and there. His red tip pulsated in a needy manner, making it obvious that Tom was currently struggling with maintaining control over his own body. Thankfully, he was soon to put an end to the torture he had allowed to settle within his body by finally beginning to move his hand up and down his shaft.

It felt heavenly, and the time he took to finally come in contact with his genitals had only managed to make it a whole lot better. A moan of his own nearly escaped his lips, yet Tom was wise enough to close his mouth before that could ever happen. The man therefore contained all of his sounds within as he began to please himself to your sight, watching as your fingers would rub circles against your clit before eventually sliding up and down your slit. He noticed that it was rare for you to allow yourself to slide a finger in, though it did happen here and there whenever you felt like it. Tom knew that it certainly wasn’t as pleasurable than the sweet touches you were offering your clit, and he was therefore able to understand the way you worked better.

And as you fastened up, so did the voyeur who watched you through the small opening of your door. He appeared to be following your pace, probably being influenced by your eagerness which excited him more than ever. The veins on his cock were now more visible than they once were, and his tip was already leaking with precum. You had huge power and influence over your stepdad, and ironically enough that was something you’d probably never know. Now that he had recorded enough footage in his mind, and as he felt like he would soon be reaching his high, Tom stepped away from the door and silently started to make his way towards his own bedroom which he shared with your mother. A couple of hesitant moans and winces were able to escape his lips now that he had moved farther away from your sensitive ears.

The door of the bedroom was carefully closed behind him before Tom crashed against the wall and began to pump his shaft faster and harder than he ever had before. He desperately wanted to orgasm to the thought of you, playing the scenes he had just witnessed in his mind over and over again. These actions easily led him to wince in a painful manner, as if he was pushing himself over the edge no matter if it would leave scars or not. The only thing Tom currently wanted was to finally be able to cum. This time, he didn’t have to worry about being careful anymore as the walls which separated the two of you stood as enough of a reassurance for the grown man. Or so he thought.

The moment finally came for his balls to twitch, leaving the grown man weak as strings of white sperm squirted out of his pulsating urethra. It landed on the carpet, staining the expensive material which your mother would probably take notice of soon enough and blame your stepdad for doing such a thing. His shaft throbbed in upwards and downwards motions as the last remains of sticky substance exited his cock, pants coming out of the man’s mouth as he collapsed against the wall once again. Never once had Tom experienced an orgasm which had left him in such a state of pure physical and mental weakness, yet he didn’t even feel bad about it. In contrary, he was now able to realize that those feelings he carried for you might just be more than a brief fantasy.

Sorry for being inactive. Life has been tough. But it always makes me happy to post a new imagine❤️ I hope you managed to enjoy it!

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