#ID FORGOTTEN WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO FEEL SAFE

[thedragonagelesbian]

me looking up early access wyll stuff so i can steal lines for my fic: im not going to get mad about it this time im not im not im n o t

[shinigamigloss]

mission accomplished

✎ Leon's a certified manwhore, really. You know that, but you can be worse than him. So what's the most that can happen in a hotel room with a reputedly flirtatious womanizer like Leon after an onerous mission? ID LEON SUPREMACY.

cw: getting it in a hotel room, cunnilingus, d in p aka mating press yay, creampie, size kink size kink size kink, protection? forgotten. fem! reader, he's just silly therefore beware of the corny lines, biting, MDNI

“You wanna get dinner when this is all over?”

You couldn’t say if it was worth nipping in the bud at that juncture, but this whole little odyssey with Leon definitely started with that very query. It wasn’t a figure of speech – you really had him down on his knees in a random hotel room.

The lavender air of the hotel room, the gunpowder-like whiff, and the notes of Old Spice emanating from the tender curve of Leon’s neck still wreak havoc on your brain after your shared kisses. Your legs buckle, and you’re in sackcloth and ashes, all thanks to wearing those mean machines – your Jimmy Choos. But you feel sexy within his reach, and you adore the vamp of your stilettos – the panorama of him sinking between your legs as he nudges you down onto the edge of the mattress.

“Panties off, pretty.” His singsong cadence is cajoling, of course; you get the gist of it.

“Demanding, are we?” You rebut, pixilated and all mawkish. Lifting your hips only slightly, you hitch up your legs and pull down the panties that have been eclipsing your love-starved pussy for hours.

With a sloppy thud, the only piece separating Leon from your lovely cunt thumps onto the linoleum floor.

“Well, now you know why I said nay to dessert at dinner.”

Such corny, coquettish platitudes only serve to draw a slumberish smile to your lips. You have no idea how men with such beautiful faces can be saddled with a palate full of sophomoric slapstick. But a dick is a dick, and something tells you that Leon won’t leave you empty-handed.

“Fuck...” You tilt your head, tracing a moony arc, and your chin is high; all the while splaying your hands over the fluffy, freshly laundered sheets.

How you got here – and how he’s now lost in the slick heat of your pussy – is a great mystery. (Well, not really. It’s a story about two horny agents renting a hotel room on the condition that they make it safely back from their mission in China) Still, you love the feeling of tender lips pressing against your plush slit.

Leon wouldn’t leave without a taste, even though the foreplay feels superfluous. After all, skipping foreplay is a felony. It’s a rule – no exceptions: a manwhore has to know how to eat his girl out. This is precisely why Leon Kennedy is notorious in D.S.O. and the dominatrix scene – a beloved whore through and through.

So he puts you in his mouth and eats you ‘til his teeth rot.

He loves it when you pull his hair (such a slut!); he even honors you with groans that sizzle your ears in a pleasant way.

Right now, Leon’s priority is to gorge on you and perhaps make you cum more than once during the course of the night.

But what about himself? His pleasure?

Of course, by the time he pulls down the indigo jeans he’s wearing, he will already be drenched in thick globs of precum.

He has a couple of minutes to reflect on that issue, but in those enchanted split seconds, all he does is lap at the dripping amrita from your hole, flowing for his benefit.

“Too fucking sweet.”

His mouth, which has been yapping non-stop since he was assigned to the assignment alongside you, is apparently very well trained at the eating-pussy phenomenon – and he can’t help himself; claws at your thighs, pulling you into his mouth.

You’re half too thunderstruck to even buck your hips closer.

Tongue sugar-coated, even more delish as he drifts on and on over your pussy. No matter how many times he says he’s a typical man for your average overnight, the lies are unfolded, and he gets all the more addicted.

“Leon. I’m–’m fuck.”

You’re so out of it that you’re babbling whatever pops into your head and out of your mouth. Insidious blues lock on you when you push your eyes open, expecting to see that he’s got it – that you’ve grasped the notion of his generosity.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” comes between each of his licks, and you can’t muster the strength to hold your own fucking head.

His mouth heats up a beatific pulsation within you when he rises up to your face and puts his business on your lips. Kissing on a first date (if fucking can be excused as a reason for a first date?) is idiotically discouraged, but this man isn’t going to listen to such absurd dictates when he’s drunk on your essence.

And you’re more than up for it, so you sweetly reciprocate his kisses.

Thwip, thwip.

It grates on your ears, and you know what it is. Leon hastily tugs at his belt, wary of missing a second. Free yet? Ha – it’s not in the cards. His boxer briefs are still in the way for both of you.

“I wish men wore panties too,” you bitch up, purpling your pouting lip.

Leon freezes mid-motion. Is he processing the absurdity of your words, or just too high on scotch and pussy to simply give a reaction?

Or are you already the pot calling the kettle black?

The possibility of the former, however, is an assumption fraught with misconception when you pull down Leon’s boxers – because he’s already in the same boat, but with a hole in it. If the room had been bathed in those bludgeoning fluorescents instead of the hazy dim lights, you’d have seen that his boxers were more profusely soaked than your panties.

Viva the dim lights... or the fact that you don’t even care how wet his dick is.

“What?”

The anticipatory look he gives you can only signal that he would like you to soar onto the bed.

“Legs up, roll over.”

“Nope. Missionary is for sore losers,” you mumble it in a faux, patronizing tone.

You’re a fucking liar.

As nice as it sounds to track his face in missionary and stab your fingernails on his back – despite the fact that you broke two of them in the line of duty – you want to ride him more than anything else.

“Losers, huh?”

Leon effortlessly grabs your wrists and stamps you onto the bed. “Sleep with losers, and you’re as good as a loser. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, yeah?”

Your head, sunken into the pillow, floats slowly on lint clouds. Watching him from below is like setting foot for the first time on an unearthed planet made of exploded blues.

Fuck. You’re so high; he’s turned you into a slam poet.

He hoists each of your calves and hooks your legs over the frame of his shoulders, leaving your pussy bared – and the December cold seeping in makes your insides flutter. If it weren’t for his pelvis pressing against you, you could very well trip on your ass and break a pretty serious bone.

“Keep your legs like this,” he prelects you, very laconic.

You feel so giddy as the raw head of his cock, which he rubs in the palm of his hand, slithers and softens at your entrance as he works himself in with an assiduous thrust.

“Tight as hell,” you hear him croak, but you aren’t quite in the zone enough to pay it any mind. Your bleary eyes are only half-lidded – if at all – not fully opaque, allowing you to catch a glimpse of him over the nebula-like blurs over his visage beneath your batting eyelashes.

“Shit, baby, you can’t even take the fucking tip.” Leon’s whispers are eulogies to the lovely cunt he first got drunk on the tang of and will now drool over for its tightness. He gives a roll of his hips but never the thing you so desperately need – he harrows you so blatantly.

You barely lift your hips, humble and tentative, to meet his impish prodding – but his splayed hand on your ribcage forbids you from venturing further, from fucking yourself on his cock any deeper. The loss of levity on your face, the line of your eyebrows knitted in frustration, is absolutely delicious to behold for a cheeky asshole like Leon.

“Stop trying to fuck yourself and use your words, would you?”

For no apparent reason, his voice haunts you.

“Come on, girl. Get it out.” Leon whispers again, layering all the clouds of discord in your head one by one. Those humiliating clouds poof, pan, flake, and evaporate from your slightly ajar lips in a single cry.

“Leon. Please. Gulp. Please! Fuck me.”

Ouch.

These words will always conjure visions of shooting yourself with your own gun once the alcohol drains from your veins in the morning – especially after these foul entreaties.

This chain of events – in which Leon has pulled a rabbit out of the hat on a night already in his favor – is capped off with your fuck-me-please beggary. (Propaganda even.)

“You got it, beautiful.” He nuzzles you – metaphorically speaking – with a cloying coo, albeit while ardently clenching your hips. The purple shadows that will mark your skin for weeks are right in his wheelhouse.

The normal you would go like, “Oh no, I can’t be such a slut overnight – and for a man? Humor me, bitch.” You’d be taking the mickey out of yourself.

Leon, however, is feeling quite lavish. He’s inside you, and he’s hard – a diamond in the rough.

The kisses you share are sporadic, wet, and perhaps absurdly romantic for such a ’trivial’ night.

In Leon’s mind, the blinking light bulb is a blaring alarm – the realization that something this good is manipulating a distorted reality hits him in the seconds when he’s so close to be hammering away at your cervix – but without violence.

“Fuck.” The kiss breaks abruptly, like a tape rewinding inside both your heads.

“The condoms.” The thought hits Leon square in the head – but what’s the big deal? Your legs are up in the air (bless the yoga gods), just like that scene of the chick in heels getting knocked up by Patrick Bateman. But now, the guy twitching inside you is preaching condom.

“Leon.”

You’re on the last rung, and his lips are a saliva-laden mess, melded with the cherry tinge of your lipstick. You really should’ve dabbed it off or something. Yet he looks stupidly delicious.

He blinks at you, owing it to you to correct his mistake immediately – filling you to the hilt with a lingering, deep-seated thrust.

“Leon!”

Your cry strikes him rapt, and he savors that sinful tightness around him. So needy – he relishes the feel of you squeezing his cock.

You sharply suck in a breath at the touch of his teeth as he bites a bruise into the delicate flesh beneath your throat. He’s drunk on you – drunk on the saccharine moans and whimpers spilling from your lips – and, to be honest, he’s been dreaming about this for a long time.

Men grow wiser as they age, but as Leon got older, he indulged in one-night stands, devoting himself to pretty, pretty women making love to him.

It’s bitter that you’re one of those women, yet you still want him to use you – so badly, so carelessly.

You don’t know how much longer your fuck-drunk head can keep up, but he knows all too well that you’re close. He pulls back slightly, releasing your ankles and reaching between your legs with his gun-wielding hand to work his thumb over the pearl of your clit. You’re so desperate for his affection, and tonight, he feels sufficiently lavish not to deny you this dazzling bliss.

Your moans echo through the hotel room – high-pitched, frantic – the overstimulation very nearly unbearable.

“It’s okay, let yourself go. Cum for me, sweetheart.” Leon’s gruff sighs ebb and flow as he brings you back from the abyss. His pace slows – then, so randomly, he brushes a languid thrust against that spongy spot inside you.

And you listen dully; your eyes nearly roll out of their sockets – but you give him what he wants.

Everything is hectic, wet, extravagant – and that’s exactly why he keeps going. Forehead to forehead, you both wind up panting. Leon still gets an A+ for looking good while he fucks you into this mess of a bed.

Your blurred eyes stay locked on the night-blue shades of his pupils in the darkness.

You both know what that gaze signifies.

Before you can say a word, Leon pulls his cock out of your slick, dripping pussy with the most obscenely wet sound.

Something inside you frantically pleads for him to stay inside you – what a loss.

But Leon takes your hand in his.

He still needs you.

“You’ve got this. Go on. Make me cum.”  

Give his cock three – maybe five – sloppy strokes, and he cums on your stomach.

Easy.

You slide your legs down – there’s no way you can hold them up any longer – and he groans when you let go of his softening cock from memory, as if discarding an object no longer of use to you.

Your legs dangle over the edge of the bed, and Leon closes his eyes – if only fleetingly – to soak in the moment, his cheek buried in the crook of your neck.

Too long or too short – you don’t know how much time has stretched by. You’re so wired, your brain feels melted and fucked. Chunks of it oozing out of your ears. It’s almost cozy.

Disgustingly so.

But all good things come to an end.  

The night hums like a club beat still thrumming in your bones. You sprawl in the wreckage of silk sheets, watching Leon slip into his jeans.

When he’s done, he turns and flashes you the cheesiest wink in the world. Always shocking you how corny he can be. Just minutes ago, he was fucking you into this very mattress – spread-your-legs kinda shit, fucked-your-brains-out kinda shit.

“Man, this room stinks of sex.” Leon makes a wry face and cups the tip of his nose.  

“Get your ass up and take a bath, or I’ll never set foot in here again.”  

You can hardly lift a hand to shoo him away. Mentally, you can no longer shield yourself from his crank antics.

“Well, you’re a big girl. You’ll be fine.”

Before closing the suite door, he steals a quick glance at the digits of your phone number, scrawled on the palm of his hand – just to make sure they haven’t faded.

“I’ll give you a weekend wake-up call,” Leon promises and closes the door behind him.  

Whump.  

Mercifully, the next date is a shoo-in, but it only means enduring another endless evening – seconds stretching into minutes, minutes into hours – drowned in his blathering and off-color in-jokes.

Is it really worth it?

The answer, considering you still can’t bring yourself to get up and clean the drying cum off your stomach, can only be one thing. You might as well call Hunnigan and let her know you won’t be making it to work tomorrow.

[casinocarpediem]

▪︎■☆ молоко 🥛 ☆■▪︎

(Translation: Milk)

Part 1, Part 2

☆ 🔞!!NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!🔞

☆ amab! Switch! Francis Mosses / gn! Switch! Reader

☆ Reader can have either amab genitalia or a strap

☆ soft sex

☆ implied Russian speaking Francis

☆ short

☆ a little bit of a twist in the end

☆ author has played Not My Neighbor

°○☆nsfw under the cut☆○°

Francis was usually a laid back person who had a hard time showing any physical reactions to his feelings (not out of being stoic, usually he's just a little too tired to smile when he's happy or scream when he's scared). He wasn't one to smile all the time, but he showed his affection through other means. Like walking behind your back and kissing the nape of your neck and whispering "Золотце" (darling) behind your ear.

Or offering you some of his milk from work that his job wasn't able to sell so that you both could make something together or eat cereal together. There are a lot of doppelgangers everyday, everywhere, so he really cares about you. Even when he's usually too tired to express it with his face, he'll do so with his actions.

D.D.D. Is a pretty strict, so you and him made it an effort to always do everything required. If he forgot his hat at home he'd have a spare at work. You'd both work on your entry requests and always keep your ID's with you and to try to make an effort to always add your names on the list. Even if there would be an emergency at work. Just some extra measures to ease his anxiousness. And yours.

Other than that, being with him is always sweet. Like a warm mug of milk on a cold day. Steaming and keeping you warm.

Not to mentioned the sex with him. God. There's something about him and sex that makes you glad he's yours and yours alone.

His fingers are long. Not that thick, but he knew how to use them. Keenly observing your reactions within each prod as his digits brushed against a bundle of nerves that has you clutching his neck tight and holding him closer to you as he whispers "Куколка (dolly)... mmm... look at you"

He's not as verbal but he certainly has a smile on his face when he pleasures you and gives you what you want. Stroking and rubbing st your junk, it's wet. Thanks to him latching his mouth on the organ so that you could cum a couple times beforehand. He just wants to make you happy not gonna lie.

Oh, but sometimes he'll end up being a little too tired from work and not have the stamina to move at all. Not to worry! He'll be your pillow princess for the night. He loves those nights. You'll kiss his forehead softly whilst you thrust inside of him. A slow, passionate pace. You're slowly rearranging his guts while he holds the sheets so tight you'll fear they might rip in the morning.

He's a hummer. He'll hum and murmur stupid when he's fucking you. Or when you're fucking him. Phrases like "mmm... oh... З-Золотце... mmmmnnn..."

He can't help it! Even if he tried. He got shy about it actually but when you do engaged in sex more he felt like comfortable doing it. Honestly it's adorable.

Especially when he's giving oral. He's humming and drunk on the taste of you and he's always humming and moaning softly as you use him, and it feels so good. The added stimulation is so goddamn heavenly. And he's always good. He'd never tease and he never uses his teeth. He doesn't mind though if you do it. He's flexible with your desires. As long as if it isn't extreme or legitimately disgusting.

You love him so much and he loves you too and the entire building definitely knows.

...

So when he comes home with an odd demeanor. As if he's forgotten everything you two shared previously, as if hes a totally different person, you'll only have yourself to save before it's too late.

.

[aayakashii]

FINALLY IT'S ALMOST OVER but, I'll be posting Valentine's Day themed headcanons for each House in Tokyo Debunker!

All prompts come from this post here ♡

And dividers are from @saradika-graphics 🫶

Taglist: @wannaberecluse @cupcakesmoothie

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

Valentine's Day in Obscuary

Ed

how does he show affection?

You will never know true privacy ever again, and that is not an exaggeration. He simply latches onto you and never lets you go. He WILL be staying in your room whether you allowed it or not, he WILL link his arms with yours whenever you're walking somewhere and he WILL complain about the harsh sunlight everyday (you tell him he could just stay in Obscuary and you'd visit him later, but he refuses, saying human life is fleeting so he can't afford to waste a single second without you. Good luck).

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He likes them, but his version of a hug is draping himself over you in a dramatic fashion – whether it's when he's "feeling unwell" or when he just wants all your attention to himself, Ed leans all of his body weight onto you, hands squeezing and petting everywhere he can reach. You have to pry him off of you when you two are in public, lest you want some Frostheim student clutching their pearls as they watch the vampire and his less-than-appropriate behavior.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

Depends on what you think it's good flirting. Are you attracted to centuries old vampires that like to murmur innuendos in your ear while constantly invading your personal space? If yes, then Ed is the perfect man for you. If not, well... you might need to have a long, serious talk with him (spoiler: he won't change).

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

His gifts are always a coin toss. He can either surprise you with a beautiful, vintage trinket from times of yore he has carefully kept safe for centuries, or he can straight up just gift you a one month subscription to his favorite twitch streamer. It's best if you just tell him the things you want – he might whine and tell you he has no money (even though he gives superchats to his oshis like. every day), but he will relent eventually and find a way to give you whatever you wanted in the end.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

Slow. His behavior sometimes makes everyone forget about it, but Ed has been alive for longer than anyone can understand. He's had family, friends, and lovers – now, all fading memories due to the passage of time. He intimately knows the horrid pain of losing a loved one time and time and time again. Going through something like that again isn't on his plans – he doesn't see the beauty in what's ephemeral anymore. So it takes him a long time to come to terms with his feelings. He might try to pressure you into letting him turn you into a vampire though.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Easy, but it takes some time for it to be genuine. Like most things in his life, words have become trivialized as well. He's forgotten the weight of them, finding it easy to say "I love you" as a way to tease and aggravate you (or Rui or Lyca). As he begins to accept his own feelings for you, however, it becomes less and less frequent – he sees truth in his own words, and it's alarming. Not to mention, he has cried wolf one too many times: the next time he says it, he wants you to finally believe in his love as much as he believes in it himself.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Not really, but he'll never ever miss the chance of making a scene and putting on his drama queen crown whenever he sees you talking with some other guy. You might even think he IS jealous, but his plans are more mischievous than you expect. It's almost impossible for Ed to feel threatened, honestly – he's lived many lives, and he's tired now; jealousy requires a lot of energy and he just doesn't have it in him anymore.

what is his ideal date?

Diving into the most random rabbit hole on YouTube and spending all day together watching videos about it and discussing them all while cuddling on his bed (after deep cleaning his room, of course...). Soon, you and Ed will be extremely knowledgeable on the most niche subject possible, and no one will be able to decipher what the hell you two are talking about – and Ed wouldn't have it any other way.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He genuinely doesn't think about marriage. What is forever to someone who never dies? Unless you are willing to let go of your humanity and turn into a vampire to stay with him in his eternity, marriage won't be a reality for the both of you. He won't make promises if you aren't going to fulfill yours.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

He thinks it's an interesting little human creation but doesn't really partake in it (besides watching Valentine's themed streams). If you care a lot about the date, however, he might have his curiosity piqued – after all, it's the perfect excuse to obnoxiously cling onto you without receiving any complaints. It's Valentine's Day after all!

does he get protective easily?

He wouldn't call it protectiveness, but it's what it would seem like to anyone who observed him. Ed is always watching, keeping himself in the shadows or in the corner of your vision. He steps in when needed, nothing more, nothing less. He has saved you from more predicaments than you will ever know, but you don't need to. There's no need for fanfare nor ostentation. He's too tired for that.

does he believe in true love?

He used to, centuries ago. Rekindling a fire that has been out for longer than any human can conceive seems like an impossible task... but you seem to be special. Why don't you take a shot?

Rui

(Like with Zenji, in these headcanons, Rui's curse has been broken, so it's not too angsty)

how does he show affection?

He could do anything and everything for you. You only need to ask. He wants to grant your every wish – be it some food or drink you want to try, clothes you want to buy or even just keeping you company whenever you need him. He wants to be your chaperone, your student partner, your helper, your date, your best friend – he wants to be dedicated to you, ready to be all yours whenever you want him. All he asks is for you to allow him to hold you in his arms as he does so.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

LOVES them. He is constantly placing his arm around your shoulders or your waist, always ready to pull you even closer. His hugs are tight and almost suffocating – Rui presses you against him as if he's afraid you could turn into sand between his fingers. His hands trace circles on your back, soothingly; you just don't know if he's trying to soothe you or himself.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

You know he's great. However, Rui flirts shamelessly and openly with anything that breathes, which, consequently, prevents you from believing his words whenever his attention is on you. It actually frustrates him greatly. He begins to wonder if he should change his whole behavior only to have you finally flustered when he winks at you or blows you a kiss. After all, his charm isn't working with the one person he wished to impress.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He's great at it. He can barely wait for Valentine's Day to arrive so he can give you the enormous basket full of gifts he has assembled for the past WEEKS. He knows absolutely all your tastes, and he will show off, eager to receive some praise from you as you rummage through all the things he's collected to give you. He'll be even more elated if you wear all the accessories and clothes and perfumes he's given you – he feels like an even bigger part of your day when you do so.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

Despite how freely he flirts with everyone, Rui is slow when it comes to falling in love. He's very aware, though, of what happens in his heart once he begins falling for you. He knows his words are more truthful than they used to be; he knows his voice is tinged with a sadness that only someone who's in love can understand. At a certain point, his flirting becomes some form of masochistic punishment to himself – you don't know how much he wants you to believe him, and he can't stop reaching out for you, only to be met with your distrust. He had to plan thoroughly how to convince you of the honesty of his feelings, but at this point he was ready to rip out his bleeding heart and present it to you.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

It's easy, although the occasion changes as he falls in love with you. Right as he met you, it was easy: he would say it whenever he wanted to compliment you, thank you, or just as a greeting. As his feelings grew stronger and more real, however, he began saying it only when you were in his arms – his lips close to your ears as he inhaled your scent. Those three words became the culmination of his emotions; the utmost truth he only allows himself to say with the solemnity of a man pledging his soul to his deity.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

A little bit. He doesn't let it fester, though. If someone looks like they're trying their chance with you, he's quick to appear by your side and pull you closer with his arm on your waist. He maintains a perfect smile, but you can see how it never reaches his eyes, a subtle twitch of his eyebrows being the only sign of his carefully contained anger. You squeeze him even closer to you, and his shoulder slump. How can he stay mad at some random asshole when he has his cutie by his side?

what is his ideal date?

He wants a little cliché date: an afternoon at a cafe, then a visit to a bookstore so you two can point out titles and he can learn even more about your tastes. If you want to, he'd be more than happy to follow you around at a trinket store as well, elated to see your excitement as you point out plushies and toys to him. While you have fun poking around and showing him anything that you find cute or interesting, he has fun watching all your reactions.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He would love to ask it. He wants to make a show (only for you) out of his proposal. He genuinely thinks you deserve all of the effort he can muster. Rui won't mind if you propose, though. He will probably malfunction for a little while, before his brain catches up on the fact that you just asked him to spend the rest of his life with you. Don't worry, though. He wants it more than anything else in his life.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

He LOVES it. He's looking forward to it months before the date (probably started the countdown since December). He was already quite used to receiving chocolates and confessions every year, but he couldn't care less about it this time. All he's thinking about is whether or not he'll get a chocolate from you and how much he wants to give you your gifts. The rest doesn't matter.

does he get protective easily?

A little. He's very open when it comes to expressing his concerns about your safety. He asks you to send him text messages to update him on your day or if you need something from him. Calls you just to know if you've arrived safely at class or at your dorm. He accompanies you wherever you go if he's available. He may be busy, but he tries his best to be as present as possible in order to protect you from all the dangers lurking in Darkwick.

does he believe in true love?

He does and has always believed in it. For the longest time, he thought he was simply doomed not to ever find it. With you, he finally feels safe enough to allow himself to believe in it again.

Lyca

how does he show affection?

Another clingy one for the books. Not to be too redundant, but Lyca does follow you around like a lost puppy does to its owner. It doesn't matter when classes start, nor where they happen – he will be there, waiting for you. He's always right next to you during all of your meals, glaring at anyone who tries to join you (except, probably, Subaru). His bright golden eyes are always following your every movement, glinting with satisfaction when your attention is entirely focused on him. He drops whatever he's doing if he catches the faintest whiff of your scent. You're his favorite person, and he explicitly proves it to you every day, even though it's mostly subconsciously on his part.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He loves them, but he's too embarrassed to ever give you a hug. The only moment in which he slithers his way into your arms of his own accord is when he's feeling under the weather – when only your comfort can bring him back to his usual mood. Besides that, you're the only one who's always taking the initiative and pulling him down for a hug. He wiggles and squirms under your iron grip, stuttering about how embarrassing it is to have you holding him like that, but deep inside, he's just relieved that his tail isn't visible otherwise it'd be wagging a mile per second.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

Poor baby. No, he doesn't know how to flirt at all. He can barely voice his feelings properly without getting dizzy and a bit sick. However, sometimes he does say he likes you, though it is through unrecognizable mumbles, fidgeting hands, and grumpy pouts.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

His gifts consist mostly of him giving you his own artworks. If he notices you like a plant, or an animal, or a place, he starts working on drawing it as meticulously as possible, just for you. He'll hardly try to give you anything else and will probably be very self-conscious if you mention other types of gifts, so... Let him show his appreciation for you in his own way, at least for a while.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

He's a little bit slow. Lyca is extremely guarded when it comes to anyone he doesn't know. It takes a little while for him to open up and get used to your presence. It takes him even longer to understand that he likes you in a way that's different from the way he likes his other friends. He might need a nudge, someone to explain to him what those feelings are in his chest whenever he's with you. However, Lyca won't ever confess to you straightforwardly. He lets his emotions show through his actions, through his eagerness to please you and how he's always seeking your company. You might be the one who needs to find out he has given his heart to you. Let's hope you aren't clueless like him.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Terribly hard. Lyca had very little chances to develop emotionally during his formative years. Years of fighting for survival, and then isolation, chipped away at his ability to feel his emotions properly. Being thrusted into a whole new reality without preparation nor professional help didn't magically fix his attachment issues. He has a lot of work to do before he even manages to feel things without trying to bury them deep into himself, let alone voice them. But you know him, and you know he loves you in his own way. You can wait.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Oh, very much so. More than just jealousy, he's constantly afraid that you'll leave him on his own or choose someone else over him. Anyone and anything is a threat. Lyca probably doesn't realize what he's feeling, nor why it brings him so much grief to watch you have fun with someone else. All he recognizes is that unexplainable anger brewing inside his chest. He stomps his way towards you, lips pulled back into a snarl, his chest hurting something fierce. He only calms down once you brighten right as you spot him and immediately try to include him in whatever activity you're doing.

what is his ideal date?

He would love to spend a whole day drawing and painting with you. If you don't know how to do any of these things, he'd be more than happy to teach you. You'd probably have to get all the art supplies beforehand, but it would be worth it – you'd be surprised to know that Lyca is, in fact, a very good and patient teacher (and he loves to be dependable).

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Lyca has never thought about it. Barely knows the existence of it. If you think you two are ready for such a commitment, then you'll have to ask him. Or you can explain the concept of marriage to him and plant the little seed of this idea into his brain. He might end up immediately proposing to you, though, without much preparation or thought. He doesn't complicate things. If marriage is between two people that like each other, then you two can simply do it right away, right?

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Much like the wedding thing, he never thought about it, nor does he care. You can explain it to him, but he might just grumble about "weird human culture". If it's important to you, however, he can try to give it a little more attention.

does he get protective easily?

VERY. If Lyca catches the slightest whiff of bad intentions coming from someone (quite literally, in his case), he WILL jump in front of you and growl at the person until they leave you alone. He has no qualms with scaring everyone away if it means he will keep you safe. Sometimes, you might need to rein him in so he won't try to scare your friends as well, but then he looks at you with those puppy eyes, apologizing for spooking them away, and it's hard to stay mad at him.

does he believe in true love?

Rui has read him stories about it – those things called fairytales. If it's in a book, then it might be real, right? Isn't that how it's supposed to work? So yes, he does believe in it. And you're even more reason to believe.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 2

Part 1 2 3

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (dub con, primal play, PIV, rough sex), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: you guys, i dont want to edit the summary from p1 so i wont. also for future me here are the asks i got for this fic [x] [x] [x] which is like 🤯 cos i thought id get 5 notes on this tbh HAHAH originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds

I refused to leave my chambers when I woke.

Not only had I cried myself to sleep, but I had woken with puffy eyes and ended up crying all over again. I was glad that my doting handmaiden was so fiercely loyal to me. Lucy didn't think my weeping childish. She was understanding and eternally on my side. I am immensely grateful for it; I don't know what I would have done without her.

She helped me bathe and dress and eat, then entertained me with gossip from the servants. For a while that was enough.

As the day passed though, my thoughts muddled and left me restless. I could not do anything but obsess over the fact my husband left me after wifing me up.

"Do you think he will come back tonight?" I mutter as I stare blankly at my reflection on the mirror.

Lucy ceases combing my hair and takes my chin in her fingers. Paired with a hand on my shoulder, she silently urges me to straighten my back from my seat. I do just that. She smiles at me through the mirror, "my lady, if you wish it, I will look for him and make him come to you."

I release a breath, "don't be ridiculous."

"I am not being ridiculous," she sets the brush down, "I am being serious."

I feel my throat tighten. My lips quiver but I refuse to break down in tears again. I shake my head rapidly, unwilling to speak, for I knew I would crack if I did.

Lucy frowns in concern then kneels down on my side, grabbing my hand, "my lady, I would die for you."

I screw my eyes shut and break into a whine, "please-"

"I owe you my life," she clasps my hand with hers and brings it to her cheek, "you freed me from my chains. You clothed me, fed me, and showed me kindness none of my masters have ever shown me before," she looks up at me with a solemn expression then repeats, "I would die for you."

I shake my head and lean into her, "live for me, Lucy. I've forgotten what's it was like before you and I don't want to remember."

She kisses my hand and presses her forehead on mine before standing, "I shall do as you command."

She stands behind me and gathers my hair back. She strokes my locks and offers me a smile through the mirror once more. I smile back at her this time around.

The comfort she offers me finally seeps through me as she massages my shoulders.

"I pray the gods will swiftly bless me with a child so that I will have other things to do than await my husband so helplessly and forlorn."

"Well, you said that he pleasured you," Lucy tilts her head, "women who have not been pleasured still bea-

Lucy is cut off by the crashing open of the door. She and I both whip back, hearts in our mouths as we stare at our Lord Clegane, who was staring right back at us.

"What's wrong with you?" he demands. The metal of his armor clanks. I eye the one Lucy tidied to the side, the one I undid the night before, and turn back to him. His brown eyes look at me with such intense accusation.

I feel my hands tremble. I cannot for the life of me find the words to speak. 

What did he even mean? How could he ask me this?

"No one has seen you all day," he says, "have you not left this room once?'

"She 'asn't," Lucy snaps, "milady has been feeling-"

"I wasn't talking to you, wench," the Hound does not turn to her when he says this. His eyes are very much still fixed on me, "I'm talking to my wife."

My wife. I look away. That's right, all that I am now is forfeit to him.

I gasp and turn back when I hear him marching over. Lucy places a protective hand on my shoulder and I find myself cowering into her touch. I clench my jaw and gulp when he stops in front of me.

He gazes upon me for the longest second of my life. He furrows his brows, "what's wrong with your fa-"

I flinch when he reaches out to my cheek.

Instantaneously, Lucy tightens her grip on me and blocks him, and Sandor cuts himself off and recoils before he can even touch my skin. He steps a few paces back then clenches his hand as if he'd gotten burnt.

We both evade each other's gaze. Sandor's eyes finally land on Lucy, "has she been crying?"

Lucy's blood boils. She hisses, "yes," then harshly pronounces, "milord."

Sandor turns away and twitches. He rolls his shoulders back and stretches his hands. He knocks on his chest plate. He looks to no one when he asks, "are you hurt?"

Lucy takes no care in masking her scoff or sigh. I take her arm and she watches me shake my head disapprovingly.

I do not look at anyone when I reply either, "I cannot say I'm not... lord husband."

A thick silence builds in the room within a moment.

When I dare too look at the Hound, he is already looking at me and suddenly speaks, "leave us, wench."

I turn to Lucy. She does not move an inch.

I give her an urging shake, but she is steadfast in her spot. Our Lord Clegane turns to her and grinds his teeth, "you will find I do not make habit of repeating myself."

I shoot up from my seat when Lucy presses forward and quips, "and you will find that I will not allow you to treat milady like this."

"Lucy!" I admonish, yanking her back.

Lucy glares daggers at him as I attempt to pacify and persuade her to leave us. Her eyes do not leave him as I sweep her out the room. I instruct her to walk around the gardens for a while then close the door after.

I press my back against the wooden surface as I look back to the man I was now alone with.

Sandor watches me expectantly. I do not say a word, for I did not know what he wanted to hear.

He finally breaks the silence, "you walk well enough."

I am dumbfounded by his choice of words. I dare not respond when I feel my lips quiver; instead, I nod quickly.

Sandor deeply furrows his brows. He shifts on his spot and chances a step in my direction, "why didn't you come out your room then?"

I lick my lips and shake my head. I turn away from him and mutter, "do I appear like I am in the state to be walking around when I look like this?"

"Like what?" he draws nearer.

I whip my head, "THIS!"

Sandor stops in his tracks. He looks at me, expressionless, "this what?"

I scoff in disbelief, feeling tears immediately soak my face. I whisper, "look at me."

"I am, with both eyes."

"And you see nothing?" I mutter shakily, "feel nothing?'

"Should I feel something?"

My chest sinks; it feels like it's caving in. He might as well gut me and spit on my bones. I turn to my feet and wipe my cheeks, "no. I suppose not."

Sandor curses under his breath. He rips at his collar, suddenly feeling his armour weigh down on him. He feels unbelievably hot. He clears his throat, "it hurts."

I look up at him.

"It hurts the first time, usually," he clarifies, "or in times you're not wet enough." He nods, "you were wet enough."

My entire being burns at his words, at his nonchalance. My face is searing in embarrassment and shame.

I want to scream at him, want to hurtle into him and demand to know why he left me, why he was so removed, but then I find the answers in my head. It dawns on me that he acted carelessly because he didn't care. He didn't want this. He didn't want me. All of it was forced. And so I hold my tongue.

Instead, I calmly explain, "my hurt is not bodily, Sandor."

Sandor's stomach rolls at the sound of his name.

"I was," I turn to space between us, "hurt that you left me. And-" I shake my head as tears rush from my eyes, "I've realized now that it's wrong of me to be."

I put a brave face on in spite of my weeping and hold his stare. The man is as stoic and hard as ever. I scoff at myself for feeling this way.

"Worry no longer, Hound," I open the door, "I will not cause you trouble again."

I step back and make way for him to exit.

He looks at me for what feels like an eternity then marches out the door.

"And have you-"

Lucy and I gasp and turn at once.

"-named it yet, Lady Clegane?"

I chuckle guilty, "Lord Varys."

The man nods to me in regard, "good morrow to you."

I curtsy to him, as does my handmaiden. Lucy lifts her skirt as inconspicuously as possible in hopes to block what was behind her.

Varys catches this and waves his hands, "there be no need for that, my dear. The stray is an obedient one, isn't it?"

I share a look with Lucy before we step back and reveal the dog behind us. Daisy was panting and wagging her tail. She had her front paw bent, for it had been broken and healed that way. I had a maester examine it. In the end, he said it was pointless to put a split because it would not fix her leg and Daisy just kept chewing it anyway.

Daisy closes her mouth and sniffs the man.

"Ah," Varys smiles at the creature, "may I pet it?"

Lucy nods and eagerly explains, "she's Daisy; she is incredibly sweet, milord."

Varys cheerfully scratches the crown of the dog's head.

Though he laughs, my own face contorts into an opposite expression, "please make no note of it to my husband."

Varys looks at me exaggeratedly, as though he was offended.

I continue, "she makes me happy."

"One does not need to be told that to know," he presses his lips together. He links his hands, "I imagine you must be rather heavyhearted since the arrival of your womanly bleeding."

I drop my gaze upon hearing this. The master of whispers truly knew all. Lucy turns to me, then back to him, "milord, it's not proper to mention these things."

Varys measures my reaction before turning to Lucy, "yes. I suppose one such as myself has no business speaking of such things." He raises a finger, "still, if you should ever need assistance with that or your stray, know that my services are available to you, my lady."

I smile at him and nod, "I thank you for it, Lord Varys."

With that, he walks away.

"Do you think he will tell him?" Lucy asks as she grabs my arm.

I sigh and turn Daisy.

I've only had her for few days but she's given me purpose. I named her Daisy because she turned up from a bush of daisies while I read in the gardens. I was shocked, puzzled with how she got there, and a little scared she would bite me. When I noticed her injury, I figured she must be very weak and offered her food. She had my heart the moment she licked my fingers.

It was fate, I figured. I had not read in the gardens since the Hound berated me for it, and she came out of nowhere. When I imagine what would have happened to her if anyone else found her, I dread to think of the fact she could have been struck dead. The gods must have sent her to me, to remedy my sorrow and fill in for the absence of my Hound.

I was meant to save Daisy, and she was meant to save me.

I shake my head, "I'll have someone keep her tonight."

The Hound stops in his tracks when he witnesses what he does from afar. A blazing fury engulfs him as he watches two women walk away. The guard, who was spoken to, ogle their figures as they did.

Sandor laughs under his breath, but of course, nothing about this situation was funny to him.

He immediately charges when the guard is left alone, stupidly attending to an open crate-- he'll fucking bash it into his skull.

The guard goes back to his post and spots the approaching giant. At first, he is unfazed by the Hound but fear quickly finds him when he realizes he was heading straight for him.

He does not speak. The Hound simply grabs him by the chest plate, lifts him up and slams him on to the stone wall. He was angry-- worse, he was irrational.

"Why was she speaking to you?!" he snaps, "what business do you have with her?!"

The guard does not waste a second in spilling his guts, "Lady Clegane paid me to watch her dog!" He sounded like he was about to piss his pants.

"What?!" he seethes.

"The crate! The crate! There's a dog in the crate!" 

Sandor shoves him away and walks toward the crate. Lo and behold, the Hound sees the mutt, fur a light shade of brown, tongue out as it pant, right arm curled up.

He draws his sword.

Lucy and I head back to my chambers after eating supper. Our chattering is abruptly cut when he step in and see the Hound's hulking figure.

To say I am shocked is an understatement. I am terrified. He has not come to my chambers since the day after our wedding night, and now, here he was after Lord Varys confronted me. I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat, "my lord, I-"

"Don't you have one too many dogs now?" he growls.

Lucy is unable to hide the sound that leaves her mouth. My eyes begin to water as trepidation rips up my neck. I whisper, "Sandor."

Sandor flinches. He huffs, "what were you doing with it? You playing dolls with it, girl?"

"I saved her!" I explain with a shaky voice. "I fed her, gave her water-"

"Its leg is broken. You keep it in a crate. It's mercy for me to kill it."

Lucy gasps. My stomach drops and I run up to him, "no. Please. Please, tell me you didn't-"

I start when I see something move on the bed. I let out a shaky breath when a bark echoes in the room. I had never been more relieved to see Daisy than now.

Sandor growls, "OFF!" He marches to the bed and charges at the her. I shriek and grab his arm, holding him back. Of course, I nearly shoot forward for what was my strength against his? Still, he turns back to me and huffs. Daisy jumps down the bed and comes to my side.

Lucy grabs her and leads her to the corner of the room.

I continue to beg, "please, don't kill her. Please, I beg of you."

"You pay the guards to watch the mutt," Sandor yanks his arm away; the action hurts my hand. He seethes, "you're better off selling the bitch to a butcher as pig food."

I wail, "it was only this time! I have kept her with me since before." I drop to my knees, "please, I will ask nothing more of you," hot tears burn down all the way down to my chest. "I beg that you just let her live."

Sandor steps back and looks down at me. I can see how pathetic he thinks I am at this moment, and yet I find myself unable to care.

"You will ask me nothing more, aye?" he scoffs. His lips curl, "don't you want a child?"

My expression drops.

"You would rather save the bitch than have a babe?"

I am unable to speak. 

Why is he doing this to me?

"Well?!" he demands.

I screw my eyes shut when some of his spit sputters to my face. I turn to the floor, "she's been keeping me company in your absence. She's-"

"Ah, so that's why she feels so comfortable on the bed. You sleep with her."

I look up at him, about to explain that she sleeps on the floor and has never done that before. I do not have the chance.

"Well then keep your stray," he scoffs, "and have it fuck a babe into you."

The Hound storms off right after.

He grips his hand and his hilt as he marches away.

He should have killed it, he shouldn't have hesitated. The only reason he did was because it didn't flinch at his sword. The mutt was so dumb it had no fear. It even propped on the crate and tried sniffing the steel. Brainless.

His insides feel like they were boiling.

He knew the little girl would weep if he killed it, yet he didn't and there were tears anyway. He curses loudly. It reverberates in the hall.

He should have killed it.

Now it was too late.

"I see you make friends even with stray cats now, my lady."

I look over my shoulder after the cat I was petting runs off because of the voice. Lord Baelish comes up to me, sparing a quick glance to the orange feline that jumped down the wall. He turns back to me with a smile, "pardon me, Lady Clegane, I did not mean to frighten the kitty."

I shake my head, returning a soft smile. I wrap my arms around myself, still not entirely used to the light fabric and freeness of the dresses I've been wearing lately, "it's alright, my lord. The cats do not like people."

Baelish walks in front of me and smiles wider, "they must see you their goddess then."

I shake my head and give a soft chuckle.

"Where is your hound?" he asks.

I stiffen.

He clarifies, "I mean the one with the broken leg."

I release a breath and look out to the view, "I had my handmaiden bathe her."

"Mmm," Baelish looks out to the view with me, "thus why you sought the cats."

A breeze brushes past us.

I do not turn to him, but I know he turns to me. He speaks, "one such as you should not be left alone or unaccompanied."

"Why? Would you hurt me, Lord Baelish?"

He chuckles, "and risk getting mauled by the Hound? I would not."

I watch as a flock of birds fly overhead.

"Other things perhaps," he says.

I do not respond to him.

A moment passes with nothing but looking and silence.

I feel his hot breath when he sighs deeply, "I remember clearly the day I first met you."

Baelish speaks my first name and it's enough to finally make me to turn to him. In truth, my name sounds foreign to me. Who I was has been long overshadowed by Lady Clegane... or, more accurately, the Hound himself.

"You were a vibrant flower. Your fragrance wafted through the room the moment you stepped in," he says, taking one step closer. "Being around you was a privilege; conversing with you, a prize."

I blink at his words, taking in the lines of his face, "and now," I clasp my hands together, "I've withered away, have I?"

His Baelish-blue eyes appear to be solemn. My lips part when he takes my hands in his. He speaks under his breath, "you are more radiant than ever."

I do not move an inch.

"Take heart," he speaks my name again, "hounds are crushed under heels of goddesses."

I pull away from him and shake my head, "do not speak blasphemy with me."

He laughs, bringing his hands behind him, "ever devout and god-fearing." He raises an arm, "shall we part ways by the stables? I will be heading out of the keep."

I debate for a moment. Ultimately, I offer polite smile and decide to agree.

We walk with no sense of urgency. I never knew Petyr to be one for small talk, and so I am surprised that he asks me about my dresses. In truth, I really shouldn't have been.

"Your dresses are Dornish, are they not?" he raises a brow.

"Dornish-like," I clarify, "it was my usual tailor that made my new dresses. I feared if I asked a Dornish tailor for a modest silhouette, I'd be colder than I am now."

We share a soft laugh.

He shrugs, "the style suits you still," he smiles. "Undoubtedly, the Dornes would love to dress you in their more traditional clothing."

I purse my lips and raise my brows, "wouldn't you like that, Petyr?"

He chuckles, slightly in disbelief by the casual referral. He raises his hands, "I said the Dornes. I am not Dornish, my dear."

When we reach the stables, I stop in my tracks, not because we're about to depart, but because his words freeze me in my spot.

"Surely, our Lord Clegane finds it hard to keep his hands off you."

I do my best to stay neutral, to not give myself away. Baelish holds back a smirk.

"Wouldn't you like to know what me and Lord Clegane get up to?"

Baelish laughs, "if I'm being honest, I do."

I roll my eyes at him and nod dismissively, "farewell, my lord."

He nods back with a chuckles, "and you, my lady."

I promptly head to my chambers after this. As I walk on, however, I remember that another day has passed with me not seeing Lord Clegane. I am unsure if it was deliberate or coincidental, but it was the fact either way.

It had been a handful of days since my monthly bleeding passed. I was never a regular bleeder, and when it came this time around, it stayed longer than usual. I was glad with his absence then, in not needing to explain myself to my him. The moment it had finished, however, I expected I would at least see him once.

I did not.

This lead to my decision to be more... seductive.

And, well yes, or course, he yelled at me and told me to have my bitch fuck me instead-- truly, there was a large pit of dread in my stomach because of this, but people say a lot of things in anger, things they don't mean. He could not have meant that.

I rub my belly, willing the dread away.

I refuse to believe he meant that.

I suck in a breath and decide to head to the king's chambers.

Besides, I've been assured over and under that men really like making babies.

My breath hitches when I catch sight of the Hound, guarding the door. I see him do a double take when he spots me, and yet he gazes into space in the end.

"Good evening, my lord," I curtsy at him.

He grunts with exasperation, "what are you doing here?"

"I wanted," I measure my words carefully, "to request you not stay out late tonight."

The man turns his head fully to me, "what?"

I feel my throat itch. I clear my throat, "I was hoping that you come to my chambers before too late."

Sandor shifts in his spot. He eyes me up and down. I feel like I am being burned alive under his gaze.

He looks away and shifts back in place.

I open my mouth but I don't get to speak at all.

"Dog. Dog! Come inside, I-" King Joffrey calls but then ceases when he steps out of the room and sees me. 

I immediately curtsy, "my king. Good evening."

Joffrey raises a brow and demands to know why I'm here, referring to me by the house I was born into.

I offer him a smile, "I wanted to speak to my lord husband, your grace."

His face contorts in deep bewilderment. He opens his mouth and raises a finger, "why would you come h-" he turns to the Hound and stops himself. He breaks into a laugh. He laughs so hard that he clutches his stomach, "oh!" He wheezes, "oh, I've forgotten about that!"

King Joffrey calms down with a sigh. He from to his Kingsguard then to me, eyeing my attire. He chuckles under his breath as his eyes rake me down, "I see your wife has dressed to seduce you, dog." His looks up to my face, "or wouldn't that make you bitch?"

I do not respond for a moment, put on the spot by his malice, but then my wits finally meet me. I curtsy to the king, "I am what my king makes me to be."

Joffrey laughs airily. He shakes his head, "my, dog," he turns to his guard, "I've truly matched you well," he pats his shoulder plate, "too well, in fact."

He then retreats into his chambers, calling out as he did, "you're dismissed, dog. Breed your bitch as you like."

The door slams shut.

I release a breath once the king leaves, clutching my belly as I did so.

Sandor does not move an inch from his spot. He does not look at me.

I begin to get nervous all over again. I try, "husband?"

"You think I'll answer to your whistle just because you're dressed like a whore?"

My face hardens. I look away from him. I mean I expected as much.

I swallow the lump in my throat, "I only wanted to please you-"

He scoffs.

I look back at him, "I will dress more modestly if it is what you'd like."

"I'd like not to see you whoring around."

I am unable to withhold my scoff, "I am what my lord makes me out to be."

The Hound finally spares me a glance. I glare at him as I curtsy, "apologies for the impertinence." I turn on my heels and walk away. My anger and vexation gets the best of me. I cannot help but jeer, "if my dress angers you so, take it off me then."

Sandor shifts on his spot.

I continue down the hall.

His lips curl as he growls lowly, "run."

I do not hear anything but my own grumbling.

"Run, little girl!" he barks, making me jolt and turn back to him with a scowl. The irritation is apparent in my face as I stop at the end of the hall, "what?"

The Hound begins to march over. My heart races as I hear him warn, "run, if you know what's good for you"

I begin to shuffle back.

"I'll tear that shit off your body when I catch you."

I break into a sprint at the sound of his threat.

I don't look back. I heave heavily as I rush down the halls. I don't hear him chasing after me, though once I'm far, I see him treading fast as the times he's dragged me by the arm. My stomach flurries with anxiousness and regret.

When I reach my chambers, I mentally debate whether or not I should lock the door. I gulp at the idea of him breaking it down. I decide I do not want a memory such as that to be branded into my brain.

I gasp when he bursts into the room. I grip my skirts from the edge of the bed where where I sat.

The Hound locks the door before walking over to me. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me down on my belly.

I squeak when he grabs my skirts and rips it all the way up my ribs. He scoffs, "fucking parchment."

I hear him grab something by my vanity. I do not dare to look at him. I proceed to hear him undo his armor and his clothes.

I hear a pop. I yelp when he grabs my smallclothes and yanks them down. I groan into the cushions when I feel his fingers toy with my folds.

"Don' fink you nee' vis," he speaks like something was in his mouth. He pulls his hand away and suddenly the smell of my lavender oil assaults my senses. I hear a squelch. Something is thrown to my side; it's my vial.

I squeak when he grabs my hips. He sighs, "you're ready on your own." We both make noises when he begins to thrust into me. The Hound growls, "little girl likes to be chased."

I am shoved into the cushions. My entire body tenses.

"You want to dress like a whore," he taunts, "I'll fuck you like a whore."

His tempo is brutal and harsh. He does not relent or give me leeway. It's strange and shameful that my body even feels tingles of pleasure.

I cannot help the screams that rip out of my throat. Had I not been faced down on the cushion, I fear that I would have woken the dead.

I call out his name when he hoists my hips up. My toes could no longer touch the floor. He begins moving faster. My hands dig into the sheets. I feel my eyes water.

The Hound howls. He shoves me down and suddenly my feet are on the ground. He plunges deep, it makes my eyes roll back. His thrusts become increasingly irregular and after with a few more slaps, he stops.

I catch my breath, thanking the gods he's shown mercy.

I whine when I feel him pull away. I gulp and shift on my spot. I anticipate his next movements. I hear a rustle. I lift my head up and look back at him, confused by the sight of him tying himself up.

Was... was it done?

"Don't think to have that dress mended, girl," he pants as he grabs something from the floor. I roll on my back, feeling uneasy because of the wetness between my thighs. I watch him unlock the door and slam the door on his way out.

All hells were breaking loose. King's Landing was under attack, the castle was on fire, and Stannis Baratheon was winning.

All the women and children holed up in the queen's retreat chamber spilled out to gods know where.

My mind was racing, yet all I could think was: run, flee, Lucy, Daisy, Hound.

I was already running. I was already fleeing. I was doing both with Lucy in my grip. I had Lucy, but I did not have Daisy.

We were running up to my chambers. I left Daisy there, my poor Daisy. We were fleeing up the stairs in haste, sparing no time to catch a breath.

I had no idea what we were to do. We could bar the door, block it with our bed. Lucy and I could manage it, I think. Was it a good idea? Would it guarantee our safety? There was only one way we'd know.

I quickly open the door and lock it once Lucy and I are inside.

We take a moment to finally catch our breath. Lucy grabs my arms and I grab hers. I can feel her shaking. I rub her skin, "it will be alright. No harm will reach us here."

Lucy shakes her head, "milday, you and me both know that's not true."

My heart shatters when I catch the way her eyes water. "Shhh," I pull her into a hug, "have I ever failed you, Lucy?"

She seals her arms around me and whispers, "no."

"Nothing will happen to us," I rub her back, "I will protect you."

"And I, you," she pulls away, "as will Daisy," she wipes her tears before they fall, "and the 'ound."

We scream when we hear a voice in the room. We press our back against the wall and turn to the bed. A figure is sat on the floor by its side. What was said was, "your mutt is stupid."

Lucy and I clutch each other for dear life. I recognized that voice. I muster the courage to tiptoe towards the figure and breathe out shakily when I confirm the presence, "Sandor?"

The man turns to me as we walk up to him. Sandor had Daisy on his lap. She looked up and blinked at me before closing her eyes. She was being pet a bloody hand and did not mind at all.

"She was jumped on me when I walked in. She looked excited," he turns to Daisy, "stupid bitch. Anyone else would have chopped her up."

I find myself releasing a breath of relief. Here now was Daisy, and Hound. I had nothing left to think about.

I walk up to him, kneeling on his side. He turns to me. I examine his face, dirtied and bloodied, "are you hurt?"

He looks at me for a moment. I watch him slowly raise his hand. He cautiously touches my cheek. I clutch his wrist in my hands. He swipes his thumb on my skin, "save your tears." I didn't even know I shed them. "None of the fuckers got close enough to try."

He draws his hand back. He grunts as he gets to his feet. Daisy moves back, wobbling on her three legs; I move back too.

"Take your valuables," the Hound grunts, "we're fucking leaving."

I pull my head back. I watch the man survey the room.

Lucy runs up to my side and she wipes my cheek with her skirt. She watches the red collect on the fabric and wonders who it belonged to. She wagers it's not from her lord.

I shake my head in confusion as Sandor grabs a satchel and stuffs my jewelry in it, "I don't understand. Aren't you going to fight?"

"Fuck the fight," he quips as he shoves objects down and raids through the drawers and closets.

Lucy finishes wiping my face. I walk off and grab all my hidden pouches of gold. I hand it to Sandor, "what about the king?"

"Fuck the king," he takes the pouches and stuffs it into the bag, "fuck him especially."

Sandor then chucks the satchel to Lucy, who grunts when she catches it.

"The stupid fuck's done nothing but fuck around," he picks up Daisy, propping her front legs on his shoulder, "no good thing's come from that fuck." He takes me by the hand and mumbles, " 'cept for one."

He releases me only to unlock the door and hold me again. He does not let me go until we reach the outside of the keep.

The whole lot was in disarray; dead bodies, debris, and fire littered the scene. He hands me Daisy, and I struggle slightly to carry her, considering she was not a small breed. He walks not too far off and brings a wandering horse over.

It's a wonder we do not encounter anyone on this side of the castle, more so that we find a horse.

Sandor takes Daisy and puts her down before helping me mount the steed. My stomach rolls with how his touch lingered on my thigh once I was on.

Next, he took the satchel from Lucy and handed it to me. He then eyed her when she stepped forward, as if debating whether or not he wanted to bring her along. Before she or I could speak up about it, Sandor is already helping her climb up behind me. Lucy takes the satchel from me and eyes him after. He rolls his eyes.

He picked up Daisy and tried handing her to me. However, she struggled too much and could not fit in my arms, so he cursed and threw her back onto his shoulders. He grabbed the horse's reins and started walking.

"Fucking bitch, fucking wench, fucking horse, fucking war, fucking-"

[queenshelby]

The Accident (Part Three)

Pairing: Reader & Cillian Murphy

Warning: Accident, Child Birth, Abuse, Religious Themes

Thank you @blondie-22 for this amazing idea!

Sunlight draped lazily across the bedroom, its warmth mingling with the remnants of last night’s intimacy that he shared with his fiancee. The sex had always been good, which was initially something thatdrawn him to Naomi amidst the chaos of his life. Their relationship started out as a casual fling, a distraction from the weight of grief that clung to him like a shadow. From that came something more and now, after dating for almost two years, they were going to get married, whether he felt ready for it or not.

Cillian turned on his side, propping himself up on one elbow to watch Naomi as she scrolled through her phone, blissfully unaware of the way her fingers danced over the screen, drawing the world into her social media realm, which was her thing, as an influencer, but not his. He hated the constant need for validation. It felt empty, like a house built on sand.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice still husky from slumber.

Naomi glanced up, briefly meeting his gaze before turning back to her phone.

"Yes, you?" she mumbled, her attention still fixed on the screen. The bright sunlight illuminated her glossy hair, framing her face which wore the same model-perfect expression she flaunted in her posts.

"Yeah," he simply responded before asking, "what time is it?" he murmured, voice still gruff with sleep.

Naomi shrugged, eyes flicking from the screen to him, her lips painted into a half-smile that failed to reach her eyes.

“Late enough for us to get up, I guess,” she teased just as Cillian's phone started to ring on the nightstand, shattering the moment.

He reached for it, scanning the caller ID, David O'Shea, the private investigator he'd hired to locate you. Cillian’s heart raced, anticipation tightening his chest.

“Hey, David,” he answered, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Cillian, I’ve got something for you,” David’s voice crackled through the line, a hint of urgency threading through the usual calm.

“Yeah? What did you find?”

“Based on the car’s number plates, I tracked down a business address," David began to explain. "I called the business and they confirmed that the vehicle belongs to company run by a guy named James O'Reilly. He’s listed as the owner, and I believe he's your Y/N's husband," David explained, causing Cillian to sigh.

"I will text you the address," David finally announced and Cillian slid out of bed, getting dressed in a haste.

"Thanks, David. I appreciate it," he replied while Naomi looked at him with narrowed eyes, her phone forgotten.

“Who was that?” she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.

Cillian pulled a shirt over his head, his mind absent. "David, the guy I asked to find me Y/N's address," he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

“Oh god Cillian, seriously?" Naomi rolled her eyes, frustration tightening her expression. “You’re still going on with this?" she asked, her voice laced with annoyance.

"Listen, I have a bad feeling about this. It's just a gut feeling, but I think something is wrong and she has had a baby without medical care. I just couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least make sure she is okay," Cillian expained and Naomi scoffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

“You want to go chase after some random woman when we have wedding things to finalise?” she asked and Cillian paused, trying to keep his frustration in check. “Naomi, this isn't just any woman. She’s a young mother who went through something traumatic. I have to know she and her baby are safe," he repeated and, with that, he left the bedroom and made his way downstairs and gathering his car keys.

"I will be back at two to check out the cakes with you, alright?" he then asked Naomi who, by now, had followed him to the hallway.

"Okay ," she replied, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "But you better not take too long. We have so much to do, Cillian."

Cillian nodded absently, slipping into his jacket, the cool fabric brushing against his skin as he stepped outside. The air felt different today—charged with anticipation and uncertainty. He hopped into his car, the engine humming to life, and he gripped the steering wheel tightly, frustration mingling with determination.

After a little more than an hour, his nav igator led him to a quiet street lined with modest houses, their worn facades hiding stories of weathered lives. He parked in front of a small complex and sought out the unit number David had shared with him.

As Cillian approached the unit, his heart thudded with each step. The slight chill in the air seemed to bite into his skin, adding to the knot tightening in his gut. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then knocked gently on the door. Silence greeted him, only the rustle of leaves in the faint breeze filling the air.

He knocked again, this time harder . With each rap on the door, anxiety twisted tighter in his chest. He had to know if you were okay after all that happened to you and, most importantly, he wanted to know whether Mika was doing well.

Eventually, the door creaked open slightly, and you poked your head out slightly.

"What are you doing here and how the fuck did you find me?' you whispered and Cillian's breath caught as he took in the sight of youbr, with several bruises webbed across your cheekbone.

"I came to the hospital but you were gone," Cillian said, his voice softer now, an undercurrent of concern threading through his words.

You hesitated, the door barely ajar, your eyes darting back into the dimly lit hallway behind you, assessing the safety of your surroundings before focusing on him.

“Please, just go away,” you whispered urgently, pulling the door tighter against your body as though it could shield you from more than just the world outside.

"Please. Just let me help," Cillian urged, stepping closer, keeping his tone low and steady.

“No help! Just go! You shouldn’t be here,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, panic simmering beneath the surface.

Cillian searched your face, his heart racing as he recognized the fear in your eyes. Instinctively , he took a step back, giving you space before pulling a battered receipt from his pocket and scrawling his number down with a shaking hand.

“Take this. If you need anything, day or night, just call,” he said, pushing the receipt into your trembling hand, trying to convey assurance through his intense gaze.

You stared at the small piece of paper, your fingers curling around it, as if holding onto a lifeline in a storm.

“Please leave," you repeated, voice barely above a whisper, your eyes wide with fear.

Cillian nodded slowly, recognising the gravity of the moment.

"Okay, I will go. But please call me if you need my help," he said, his heart heavy as he stepped back again, giving you the space you seemed to desperately crave. The door remained slightly ajar, a barrier that kept the outside world at bay while encasing both of you in an ocean of unspoken fear.

He saw you clenching the receipt tightly, your knuckles pale in contrast to your bruised skin before finally turning around and retreating from the doorway.

You then shut the door behind you with a finality that echoed in the silence of the corridor.

Cillian hesitated for a moment before leaving, his heart pounding in his chest like a relentless drum. He stood on the porch, staring at the door where you had disappeared, wishing he could do more, but at least for now, he couldn't.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[sharp-rosee]

Hey funny story: I haven't been around Tumblr at all for months, but today someone told me menalez had deactivated or something so I came on here and looked it up. First result was a post by you, i checked out your blog and wouldn't you know it your most recent post had you defending me post mortem lmfao. I sent an anon to the other woman too but it seems she won't post it so to clarify to you: when I supposedly said "studies showing violence suffered by bisexuals are cringe and useless" what I remember thinking about that is that those studies that I've seen are never used to try to understand why bisexuals suffer such insane rates of violence (more than homosexuals) and trying to stop it. I've only seen them be used as battering rams in discourse when homosexuals criticize bisexuals. Which is crazy for such a serious issue and totally trivializes it lol. Also that my explanation for it was that such studies show that many abused people incorrectly id as bi for a time. You can disagree or wtv just those were my points, she made it sound like I'm cheering on women beating if they're bi or something. Also your defense of me (thanks queen lol) is accurate if you were wondering. I used to be sorta pro strict separatism but I outgrew the anger/ denial phase of "most women will partner with men" and reached acceptance. Most people are built for romantic partnership, that's just human nature, I can't be hating het women just because their lot in life in that means they're more likely to be abused. Just because I'm not drawn to men, or even much to romance, doesn't mean I should act like that's everyone else too and judge them on that standard, I accept reality and want women to be safe within that rather than pointlessly hate on them and get all worked up because some women have boyfriends..

Well I'm also a mean asshole, I'm sure you noticed, and I definitely would give the bi girlies on radblr a hard time here at the time lol. I don't have the "one side" sort of takes on this divide on radblr. It was funny but I can't feel the energy to that anymore since leaving tumblr, way too few bis or gays irl to care about that stuff. But at the end of the day these are my actual takes on all that disk horse. Funny to see it immediately on such a causal stroll around here lol

-sleep3r4gent

QUEEN I used to follow you ♡ at least when I was crypto a few years back I did.

Also, I'm glad you clarified because the way some women on here seem to hallucinate things they read almost makes me feel insane as well. Like you sending an ask saying you never thought of a certain perspective is not indicative of you agreeing and obviously one can change their opinions over time.

I really have no opinion either way tbh, I myself am straight and in a relationship, and have had others on my last blog send some anons calling me a "dick worshipper" and other misogynistic BS, but they stopped once I didn't let it bother me much. It's so obviously a group of trolls that it's embarrassing that they still believe it enough to keep bringing back the same users, some like you who aren't even misogynistic, to further their persecution complex.

It even is more annoying because these are the women who made Mena/Moideater leave, the above drama is a big reason why. The way radblr will still reblog posts from very racist blogs and not bat an eye but then freak out over a clique of women who aren't even radfems really does show what demographic makes up this site.

I know it gets exhausting to be involved in arguments, but it's nice to know you're still somewhat around. I hope you, Mena and Moid come back someday. If not I understand. But I'll never forget any of them and I haven't forgotten you 😭😭😭

[l0relaii]

mike as ghostface and yall doing that rp in the bedroom PERHAPSSS🫣

ahh i've always imagined josh in a ghostface costume but mike.. oh mike..

mike who suggests to watch scream with you because josh recommended the movie, he expects it to be good, but not THAT good

after the movie is over you joke with mike not expecting to actually spark something inside him

"you know what? maybe you should get a mask like that"

"oh yeah? you'd like that wouldn't you.."

after that you just kinda forget about it and don't bring up that damn mask again

but mike doesn't forget. for days he thinks about it and what he would do to you while wearing it

and then late one night he's scrolling on his phone and sees an ad from a costume site. it must be a sign, right? and before he even realizes he buys the mask

he waits so eagerly for it to come and when he finally gets it he cannot wait to surprise you with it

he has everything planned out for the night. he invites you over to watch a scarry movie and asks you to go and prepare some popcorn

and while you're busy in the kitchen he gets his shirt off, unbuckles his jeans and puts on the mask then lays down on the bed and dials your number with no caller id

you hesitate at first but decide to pick up not expecting your boyfriend to call you when he's in the next room waiting for you

"who is this??"

"whatchu doin'?"

you recognize his voice even though it's a bit more.. breathy? and muffled by something, almost like his mouth is covered by something. you feel a little smirk creeping up on your face before you answer

"oh.. just some popcorn"

"you're makin' popcorn?"

"yeah, i'm about to watch a scarry movie with my boyfriend"

you decide to play along with his little game while making your way towards the door of your bedroom

"you like scarry movies..?"

"uh huh"

"what's your favourite scarry movie?"

"well.. let me think about it for a second"

before he can respond you open the door and lay your eyes on him laying on your bed wearing only his unbuckled jeans and a ghostface mask

in the dark of the room you can notice the bulge in his jeans when he drops his phone on the bed and you can't stop staring at him

"you like the view darlin'? why don't you come sit on my lap, huh?

that's all it takes for you to forget about the movie and the popcorn you were preparing

now you're sitting in mike's lap with your back towards him while he has his hand in your soaked underwear

"if i knew how wet you'd get from this mask i would've bought it a looong time ago.."

you can't even respond to him. you're too focused on his muffled breathing and the denim covered bulge that keeps poking at you

you feel the plastic of the mask digging into your shoulder from behind as he starts rubbing at your clit in slow circles

it's safe to say that you did not get to watch any scarry movie nor eat any of the burnt popcorn forgotten in the kitchen 👀

[hellcheeriest]

i bet he's never had a backstreet guy

Twitch Streamer!Eddie x Single Father!Steve

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: We begin to learn of Chrissy's struggle with her sexuality, Eddie makes a big decision in his career, Steve is a sick, sick man (only for eddie munson), platonic!Hellcheer my beloved!! Robin struggles with close proximity to the girl she likes.

Content warnings: Slight age gap (Steve is 31, Eddie is 26) Steve feels as though he's too old to be acting like he is (I know 31 isn't old! Steve just grew up too fast as a teen dad, so he feels like his mind is beyond his years.)

A/N: Second Chapter yay! I dont really have much to say other than the fact that i spent like 6 hours straight writing this while getting distracted, and i havent read through this so i apologize for any mistakes or innacuracies you may find. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

w/c: 4,850+

January, 2023

CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

Chrissy shivered as the cool, mid-winter air infiltrated her room. She’d forgotten to shut her window last night while she was cooking, and the goosebumps on her skin had her shivering with regret. Her radio whispered beside her, the volume purposefully low as to lul her to sleep, an unknown host forecasting the weather.

Chrissy pulled off her sleeping mask, her eyes still closed as she tried to wake fully, letting thoughts of last night's stream come to her. She smiled at the memories from just last night. Gareth and Robin’s banter, Austin’s quiet but witty remarks, Eddie and herself teaming up to embarrass an easily flustered Jeff.

Robin’s raspy laugh filled her foggy brain. The girl had been complaining, again, about how she lacked a girlfriend. It wasn't uncommon, their friend group was her only safe space as a queer person, the area she lived in being a prominently homophobic area.

It made Chrissy feel different, though. She’d known she had always admired the girl, from the top of her brown bob, to the bottom of her cherry red converse, there was nothing about Robin that Chrissy didn’t find she was unable to admire. She was funny, and she was pretty in a way Chrissy hadn’t ever seen or could even describe. She didn’t really know what that meant.

The couple times they’d been able to meet in person were the times when Chrissy admired Robin the most. Seeing her through her eyes first hand instead of through the lens of a camera. They were also the only times she could experience their height difference, Chrissy having to look up just to make eye contact.

Chrissy sighed heavily, bringing her sleep heavy arms up to rub at her eyes. Her alarm clock had gone off minutes ago now, luckily her online classes wouldn’t be disrupted if she slept in, but for her own sake she decided to get up. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and startling when her phone began to ring from her bedside table. She groaned, grabbing it and sighing when she sees the caller ID.

“What do you want?” Chrissy grumbled.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Eddie laughed on the other line.

“You always catch me at a bad time.” She smiled despite her light hearted annoyance. “Back to my first question, what do you want?”

“Can you meet me at the diner today, or are you busy?” Eddie asked, breathless, and Chrissy could tell he was getting dressed as they spoke.

“I’m free. Nine o’clock?”

“Nine-thirty?”

“Even better.” Chrissy hummed. “See you then.”

“Bye, Chrissy.” Eddie replied, dragging out the words. Chrissy laughed and hung up, putting her phone back down on her night stand, spending another moment on her bed stretching before getting up.

She padded along the hardwood floor of her apartment to her bathroom. She did her skin care, brushed her teeth and hair, and pulled her russet hair into a ponytail with a white scrunchie. She used her finger to press on her signature blue eyeshadow, a few quick strokes of blush and mascara, and a dab of a pink lipstick covered with a cherry lip gloss.

Back in her bedroom, she stalked over to her closet to find her outfit. She went with an oversized and chunky white turtleneck sweater over a green satin skirt that reached the middle of her shin. She grabbed her black, shiny Mary Jane’s and put them on over her frilly, white socks.

Finally she topped off the outfit with her gold ‘16’ necklace, a graduation gift from her parents, before doing a one over of her outfit in the mirror. After confirming with herself that it was good, Chrissy turned around to look at her clock.

9:04AM.

Just enough time to drive to the diner Eddie wanted to meet at. It was across the city they both lived in, but it was Eddie’s favourite and he was paying, so she wouldn’t complain.

Chrissy picked up her phone again to see two new messages. One from Eddie and one from Robin.

Ed

ready when u r :)

Rob <3

morning chris!  Hope you have a good day <3

Chrissy felt her stomach turn as she read the second message, and she bit her lip as she sent a quick reply. She shoved down the warm feeling in her gut, and typed out a response to Eddie. After it was sent, she put her phone in the sleek pocket of her skirt, and grabbed her purse before she left her apartment. She took the elevator down to the first floor, waving “Hi,” to her neighbours before leaving the building. 

Chrissy got to her car and felt her phone buzz against her thigh, the custom notification sound letting her know it was Eddie, and she got in the driver's seat to begin the drive to the diner. 

EDDIE MUNSON

Eddie stood outside of the diner, his hands in his pockets as the Chicago wind blew through his hair. His nerves made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and his fingers fiddled with his rings. It only took minutes for Chrissy’s car to park in the spot in front of Eddie. She got out, and rushed over to Eddie to pull him down into a hug. Eddie laughed as her arms reached up and around his neck, letting his own wrap around her waist. They swayed back and forth for a moment before pulling away enough to press their cheeks together, making an audible “Mwah.”

“It feels like it’s been so long since I saw you in person last.” Chrissy whined as they pulled away completely, grabbing hands and walking into the diner.

“I know,” Eddie smiled down at her. “I missed you, too.”

They waited for a hostess to seat them, and as soon as they were led to a booth and finished ordering their drinks, they burst into conversation. They talked about anything they could, and Eddie found himself purposefully procrastinating the one thing he had partially asked Chrissy to come meet him for. Soon, after their waitress came by and took their order, they ran out of things to talk about, and Eddie knew it was time.

“So,” He started. “How do you think I’d go about… face revealing?” Eddie asked, almost timidly. Chrissy on the other hand was ecstatic.

“You want to face reveal?” She shrieked with a huge smile. Her joy was contagious, and Eddie could feel his own face break into a grin. 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t make a big deal about it.” Eddie hid his smile with a piece of hair.

“But it is a big deal! You finally want to show off that gorgeous face of yours!” Chrissy leant over the table to pinch Eddie’s cheeks to emphasise her words, sitting back down as the waitress returned with their food. Chrissy grabbed a hashbrown off of Eddie’s plate as he took one of her pieces of french toast. “It’s exciting!” She whispered.

“Okay, okay!” Eddie laughed as he cut into his pancakes. “I just… want it to be casual, I think, and I want you to be there.” He stabbed the piece he cut apart with his fork, and shovelled it into his mouth. Chrissy “Awe’d” and smiled with soft eyes at Eddie’s words.

“Well,” Chrissy started. “I guess we’ve got an important stream to plan.”

ROBIN BUCKLEY

Music blasted from the bathroom of Robin’s home. Chappell Roan’s Pink Pony Club could be heard all through the house. Inside, she was singing along as she pulled her eye down to put eyeliner on her waterline.

“Robin! Turn that down!” Her mother shouted and hit her fists against the bathroom door.

“God, Mom, Okay!” She shouted back, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her phone. She turned the volume down, and stared at her home screen. It was a picture of her and Chrissy they had gotten the week their whole friend group decided to meet up for the first time. Her hair was longer, being cut into a short bob now, and Chrissy’s hair was the opposite: shorter than her current length. They looked happy. 

Robin sighed as she pulled up her messenger, sending a quick good morning text to Chrissy before putting her phone back down on the counter.

Perhaps she’d been harbouring a crush on the blonde for a long time. Can you blame her? Chrissy was perfect in every way. She was beautiful, funny and devastatingly kind. She hadn't even changed how she acted around her when Robin came out! Which should be the bare minimum, Robin knows this. She just wasn’t used to the amount of acceptance her friends showed.

Only problem? Chrissy was definitely straight. She’d only ever talked about past boyfriends, and never expressed any romantic interest in women. Eddie would tell her not to lose hope, though that was often hard. Plus, she lived like a thousand miles away from each other. They’ve seen each other in person twice since they met four years ago, and long distance relationships almost never work out.

She shook her head to dispel any thought about the girl. She would be going shopping today after getting her paycheck. Working at an old, shitty, video rental store may suck, but it did pay well and she needed to feed her vinyl collection. Hopefully it would be enough to distract her.

STEVE HARRINGTON

“You, your sex is on fire.” Steve heard being sung from the TV. He recognized the voice as the streamer Dustin had taken such a liking to. Steve left his office and walked towards the living room and he could see the stream on the large screen. This time, it was live camera footage that showed a young blonde woman instead of the gameplay he was used to seeing. The man’s, Eddie’s, voice was actually really nice. It was husky and raspy, the clear tenor tone sending shivers down Steve’s spine. Steve leaned on the door frame as he watched and listened.

“The dark of the alley, the breaking of day.” Eddie continued.The girl in the camera seemed to be having a good time, swaying back and forth with the music. Occasionally, she would lay her head on the T-shirt clad shoulder next to her, and a heavily ringed hand would raise up and hold the side of her head.

“Are they dating?” Steve found himself asking. He mentally kicked himself. Why did he care if some random internet personalities were dating?

“Crap! Dad, you startled me!” Dustin clutched at his chest dramatically and Steve shook his head. “No, they’re just really good friends.” He turned down the volume of the TV and Steve came and sat on the couch next to his son.

“Oh, so like you and this Suzie I'm always hearing about?” Steve poked Dustin’s shoulder repeatedly until his son grabbed his wrist.

“Dad!” The boy exclaimed as he flushed red. He turned away and covered his face, and Steve smiled as he rubbed Dustin’s back. The light sound of the blonde girl laughing brought their attention back to the TV.

“Wow, Chris. I can’t believe you’d spread this propaganda about me.” The girl threw her head back and cackled. Steve remembered a ‘Chrissy’ that Dustin was talking about, this must be her. “She just referred to me as a ladies man as if I got any play in high school. I was a theatre kid, Cunningham, try again.”

“You wouldn’t believe the things I heard about you during lunch at the cheerleader’s table, Ed.” She reached over, past the camera's view and Steve guessed she was grabbing at Eddie’s head. “If they weren’t waiting for you to ask them out, you would’ve been drowning in bitches.”

“Hardy har har. Yeah, okay.” Two larger hands pushed smaller ones back into frame. “Anyways, guys. We have some big news!” The facecam turned off, and Steve felt Dustin tense next to him. “As some of you might’ve heard, they’re holding a convention in a smaller town in Indiana called Hawkins.

“So, we just wanted to let you all know that me, Chrissy, Robin and the guys are going to be there. So since you’re going to have to see me there, I figured I should…” Eddie’s voice got tense as he spoke, and then the camera turned back on. This time, though, it wasn’t the blonde girl. It was a man.

A man with dark, shoulder-length curls that were frizzy, but nevertheless striking. His skin was pale, and contrasted against the pink of his lips. His eyes were big, and a deep brown, dark enough to where Steve couldn't see a pupil. They were surrounded by long eyelashes and it seemed as though he was wearing eyeliner. The neckline of his shirt was cut and jagged, and exposed his prominent collar bones and the tattoo that lay inked into his skin. He was devastatingly pretty. He smiled, and turned to read the chat that was going a million miles a minute, all messages sharing feelings of shock and awe.

“Thanks, guys. Hoo-kay, I’m shaking. We’re okay, we’re okay.” Eddie pulled his hair behind his shoulders, revealing the plethora of piercings on both ears. “But, yeah. Next month from February twenty-sixth to March 2nd. I’ll be putting more information on my twitter, along with prices.” Chrissy came back into view. Behind Eddie, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her chin on the top of his head.

“Can’t wait to see you guys!” Chrissy exclaimed, and Eddie laughed as he reached up to grab her arms. Steve noticed they had matching bracelets.

“Keep a look out on instagram and twitter, photo dump coming soon.” The two waved at the camera, and sang out a long “Bye,” before they were gone and the stream was over. Steve and Dustin stayed frozen, and Steve knew Dustin was also in shock after seeing Eddie. 

Though they were in shock for two different reasons.

“Dad, they’re coming here for a convention! We have to go. Can we? Please?” Dustin pleaded and Steve thought for a moment.

“I’ll see what I can do, bud.” Steve answered and Dustin grinned before running to his room. Steve pulled out his phone and looked for Eddie’s twitter. When he clicked on the account, he found the link in his bio that led to the convention information, and when he scrolled down he found pictures already posted.

Most of them were group photos, with Chrissy, another girl almost the same height as Eddie, as well as three more guys Steve assumed were his other friends. He scrolled down further, and found a post-concert photo with Chrissy. They were both obviously worn out, and Steve found the drastic difference in the way they dressed funny. 

Eddie was all leather, and sharp edges, while Chrissy was pink and bubbly.

Steve internally scolded himself for the way his stomach churned when he found a particular photo of Eddie by himself. He was kneeling on a stage, a microphone in one hand, and the other holding the fingers of whoever took the photo. He wore a loose, black fishnet top over a black tank with torn up, black skinny jeans. His hair was messier than he’d seen in the other photos, and his face was slightly flushed in a way that suggested he was probably drunk. He smirked in a smug way that had Steve feeling as if he were a high schooler seeing his hallway crush. At the realisation, he quickly scrolled back to the top of profile and clicked the link, his face red. 

He shouldn't be feeling this way about some guy on a screen, much less a twenty-something year old. Steve should know better at his grown age.

He filled out his information, and when looking at the full price he sighed. He could already hear his wallet begging for mercy.

—

TIME SKIP

—

February 2023

EDDIE MUNSON

This was crazy.

Just a month ago did he live stream his face to the internet which sparked creativity in the artistic part of his group of fans. He was tagged in a bunch of drawing’s of him, as well as video edits to quite suggestive audios. It was strange, Eddie thought, to be praised like this for your appearance. But, if he was honest, he wasn't complaining.

Now, he was mentally preparing for the convention. Eddie wasn’t entirely a social person, he’d much rather be with his circle of friends and maybe a few others. This was an entirely different level. He sat on the bed in the hotel room he and Austin would be sharing. Jeff and Gareth were in the room across from them and Robin and Chrissy’s room were down the hall. The last pair excited Eddie.

Robin often confided in him when she was especially upset about her situation, and Eddie could sympathise. Falling for straight people was never fun. But, Eddie wasn’t entirely sure that Chrissy was straight. He never pressed her on the issue though. Poor girl. She’ll never know what hit her.

 Robin had been accidentally flirting with the girl since they arrived in Hawkins, and Eddie had to stifle laughter when it backfired. Robin would shoot him a glare and a lighthearted middle-finger.

Chrissy didn’t seem to catch on despite her array of ex-boyfriends that probably acted the same way around her before they dated. Though, Eddie guessed he couldn’t blame her. Robin’s attempts at flirting could be compared to the sight of a dumpster fire.

Eddie sighed and laid back on his bed, bored and left without anything to do. Not like he really wanted to do anything. Flying sucked, he hated aeroplanes and he was always left exhausted after taking one. 

But he was also insanely hungry. He could probably order in but he did not feel like talking over the phone and Hawkins seemed like a pretty old-fashioned town so god knows if any of the restaurants here have any apps he could use. Whatever. Eddie sighed before he walked over to the door and pulled on his converse and tucked the laces into the sides of his shoes. He grabbed his room key and left to try and find some damn lunch

CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

She couldn’t do it.

Chrissy sat on the edge of the single bed that was in her and Robin’s shared room. She hadn’t seen Robin for a year and a half, and so far everything has been great! But Robin makes her nervous in ways she can’t explain. She didn’t have much more time to think as the door burst open to reveal the taller girl holding all of her bags in her arms and her phone in her mouth. She quickly dropped the bags and took her phone out of her mouth. She was completely out of breath as she reached into her pockets to pull out her inhaler.

“Oh my god, Robin!” Chrissy rushed over, picking up a couple of Robin's bags and bringing them further into the room.

“Hey, Chris.” Robin said, still exasperated, and her wispy tone made Chrissy shiver. She reached up and pulled Robin into a hug. “Missed you.” Robin whispered into Chrissy’s hair as she returned the embrace.

“You just saw me like, ten minutes ago!” Chrissy laughed, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

“I know.” Robin replied as she pulled away, still slightly out of breath.

“Did you run up here? What happened?”

“Apparently the elevator shut down after you guys got up here, so I had to take the stairwell with all my bags.” Robin whined as she walked over to the bed and flopped down onto the mattress. She hadn’t seemed to have noticed the fact there was only one bed, yet.

“Um, so,” Chrissy started. “We only have one bed in here.” Robin lifted her head and looked to the other side of the room, then back to Chrissy.

“O-oh.” Robin bit her lip nervously. “I could sleep on the couch if it would make you more comfortable.”

“No!” Chrissy almost yelped. “I mean, no. That’s fine! It’s big enough for us to share.” She was sure her cheeks were bright pink. She got on the bed next to Robin, the other girl sitting up.

“Yeah, that sounds fine.” Robin rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m perfectly comfortable sleeping next to you Robbie, I promise.” Chrissy said sincerely, grabbing Robin’s hand and holding it softly. She looked up at Robin, and took this time to admire her the same way she had so many times before.

Robin didn’t often stream with her camera on, and she didn’t facetime the group so Chrissy didn’t get to see her face much. She’d almost forgotten how much she loved Robin's features.

Her soft skin that was splattered with light brown freckles she wanted to count, her soft jawline and the thin dark circles underneath her gorgeous eyes. Then there was her hair. Her soft, wavy locks that Chrissy constantly wanted to run her fingers through if the other would let her. 

"Hey, did you think we could see if one of the guys would pay for our lunches?" Robin said, a grin on her face. Chrissy giggled and squeezed Robin's hand. 

"Abso-fucking-lutely." Chrissy smiled deviously and the two left Robin's belongings to be unpacked later. Right now, they had some boys to mooch off of.

STEVE HARRINGTON

Oh boy.

It was one day away from the first day of the convention Steve hesitantly bought tickets for. He and Dustin were all set to see the panel Eddie and his friends would be at and Steve’s bank account was about to kick the bucket. Dustin was excited, though, and that was all Steve needed to know that this was worth it.

He couldn’t lie, this was slightly for him too. Ever since he’d laid eyes on the man Dustin called his idol, he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Steve’s known for a while that he liked guys. Before Dustin was born, he’d even dated a few, but he’s not sure he’s felt this way in a long time just based on someone's looks. The critical part of his mind scolded him.

'This is your son's favourite streamer you're thinking about!'

'His looks might deceive him. He could be a total douche.'

'Is he really all that?'

Yes. Eddie really was 'all that.' His personality was large and he was really, really attractive. 

'He probably has a girlfriend. You don't even know if he likes guys.'

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes. He would have to start on dinner soon for Dustin, Dustin's "friend" Suzie, and himself soon. He could contemplate this all later. Maybe tomorrow at the convention, but hopefully not ever again. He stood up from his chair in his office and closed his computer. He walked down the hallway and all that could be heard was the tv in Dustin's room. 

Suspicious. 

He walked further and leaned closer to Dustin's door that sat open by three inches. After another moment Steve pushed the door open fully to see Suzie tucked into Dustin's side as they lay on his bed, seemingly watching a movie. 

"Dad! What the hell!" The two jumped and Suzie gripped onto Dustin's shirt. 

"Calm down Dustin, I'm just asking what you guys want for dinner." Dustin was red with embarrassment and Suzie just snickered. 

"Whatever's fine, dad." He answered. "And learn to knock!" He shouted on Steve's way out. Steve snorted and made his way to the kitchen now with three things on his mind. 

Whatever was going on between his son and this girl. (Which he totally predicted, by the way.) 

What he was making for dinner. 

An insanely pretty streamer he was probably too old to be gawking over.

Dinner was only going a little awkwardly. Suzie sat quietly, eating the quiche Steve had made. Dustin glared at his father from across the circular table and Steve tried his hardest not to make a face back. 

"So, Suzie. How's school been for you?" Steve asked as he fiddled with his fork. 

"Dad." Dustin groaned. 

"What?" Steve drew out the 'a.' "I'm just asking how her classes are." 

"Well, my grades are just fine. I enjoy my academics a lot actually! I only wish I could say the same for Dusty." She smiled at the boy whose face dropped. 

"Snitch!" Dustin accused and Suzie laughed, Dustin's scowl softened at the sight before it hardened and he turned to his father. "Don't listen to a word she says," Dustin pointed a fork at Steve who threw his hands up. 

"Alright, alright. Finish your dinner so you can have time to wind down before you go to bed. You've got a big day tomorrow." Dustin smiled before starting to scarf down his food as if he hadn't eaten in days. 

"Slow down, Dusty!" Suzie squealed. She was a good match for him, Steve thought. 

At least Dustin had Suzie.

ROBIN BUCKLEY

Lord have mercy.

The girls had come back from a nice lunch, courtesy of Austin who was the only one willing to do them a solid and pay for their food, and things were calm until the sun went down. They’d found a pizza place and called for delivery. It was good, Robin found, but she’d had better back in Miami.

After that, they’d flipped through the few channels the hotel TV offered and Chrissy began her nightly routine of a simple skin care routine and brading of her hair. Then, she would join Robin under the covers. She wore a mint green silk pyjama set, a spaghetti strapped tank top and shorts that ended before her mid thigh, and Robin felt under dressed in her wife beater and Archie sweatpants.

The only light spared was from the lamp that sat on Robin's side of the bed she was almost scared to turn it off. If she did, it would really seem like it was just her and Chrissy. 

"Are you totally sure you're comfortable with me? I mean, I've been told I'm a pretty clingy sleeper. I wouldn't want you to wake up with me-" Robin started rambling before Chrissy stepped in. 

"Rob! I already promised." Chrissy's eyes were drooping and Robin could tell she was really to pass the fuck out. Robin smiled fondly, brushing Chrissy's bangs from her face and pulling the blankets up further. "You know, you're really pretty." Chrissy sleepily admitted. Robin stared in shock for a moment. 

"Y-you think?" 

"Uh huh," She pulled a hand out of the covers and laid it on Robin's cheek. "Super pretty." Chrissy smiled and brought her hand back to her chest before swiftly falling asleep. 

‘Are you there god? It’s me, Margaret.’ Robin thought. She brought her palm to the same cheek Chrissy had just touched and she felt how much her face had heated up. God, she probably looked like a lovesick fool, but she couldn't even judge herself for that when she laid her eyes upon Chrissy's sleeping figure. She looked so at peace. Quite often she was riddled with anxiety or happiness, both that made her constantly fidgeting or moving around. Now, she was still and sound. Robin fought herself to take a mental photo, wanting to remember this sight forever. Wanting to wake up to this sight forever. 

Reluctantly, Robin rolled to lay on her back. She never slept well on her side. She turned the lamp out finally and soon enough her own eyes became heavy with sleep, and she herself would also succumb to sleep.

The next sound Robin would hear would be the screech of her ringtone and Chrissy's groan from next to her. Robin reached to the nightstand and grabbed her phone. It was Eddie, that bastard. 

"Eddie?" 

"Woah, morning Robin." Eddie seemed pretty awake for... Ten in the morning. "Just wanted to make sure you two were awake. I'm guessing you weren't until just now." 

"Yeah, asshole. I had an alarm set for eleven." Robin whined and Chrissy yawned from beside her. 

"Okay, well I wanted us to all meet up for brunch before the panel. So get ready and meet us in the lobby by eleven-thirty. Okay? Okay." Eddie hung up before Robin could intervene. 

"He is such a prick," Robin groaned and set her phone back down. Chrissy giggles as she rubs her eyes. 

"That's Eddie, alright." Chrissy sighed. She sat up and stretched out her arms. Robin had to stop herself from staring at the slight muscle the former cheerleader still had. She sat up as well, much to her dismay. "I," Chrissy swung her legs over the side of the bed before standing up. "Am going to have a shower. You want me to be quick so you can have one too?" 

"If you wouldn't mind. I could always wait until after we hang out with the guys too." Robin said as she walked over to the small vanity and started to brush her hair. 

"Oh, Robin. You are a gift from god." Chrissy responded as she approached the taller and left a kiss on her cheek before scurrying away to the small bathroom of the hotel room. Robin simply froze. This girl had no idea what she was doing to her.

tags:

@marklee-blackmore

[askallianything]

The Fire

I've mentioned a few times that Alli set an entire dormitory on fire, but I've never explained the story. I was gonna put this as an AITA parody post, but decided to make this a full written thing. This takes place back when Alli (or Alora, as she was known at this time) was in American highschool.... which also studied anomalies for the sake of plot convenience.

This post goes hand in hand with the Alli police interview I wrote! You can read it before, after, or not at all!!

CWs: Animal harm/death, murder, self harm, violence, angst.... so much angst...

Mission after mission after mission. It seemed like that's all Alora knew how to do anymore. Investigate an anomalous incident, capture the anomaly, and return to her beloved tarantulas and snakes. She didn't even go to her classes anymore- nor did she fraternize with her fellow students. Nothing good ever came of sticking around the school anyways.

She was so busy that she had almost forgotten what day it was. Her birthday. She didn't have anyone to celebrate it with... but that just meant she could take the day for herself. Resting in her room with her dear pets. Ah, the idea alone made her sigh happily. And then she let out a small yelp, tripping over... her own feet?

"Sorry, didn't see you there."

A haughty girl cackled, Alora glaring daggers at her before weakly smiling and nodding her head. She picks herself up and quickens the pace at which she walks.

"Alli~ We aren't done talking~"

The girl grabbed Alora by the back of the collar with a fake pout.

"Yasmine....Can you just.... stop? Please? I have some reports I need to turn in-"

"On what? How to fuck a werewolf?"

"Ha- funny.... Hey, give Disney Channel a call. They might want you as their next stereotypical bully."

Already regretting her clap back, Alora attempts to walk away again. Only to be grabbed by the collar.... again.

"I said we're not done talking. I have a birthday gift for you. Here, for your collection."

The other girl, Yasmine, produced an ID card from her purse with a malicious grin. Alora felt weak in the knees seeing the picture and name.

"Emmie's parents have been looking for this, you know. But I think you should have it. Frame it with the others, jerk off to it, cut yourself with it, whatever floats your boat, hun."

Alora's throat clenched up- she couldn't breathe any longer. Her bones felt like jelly and her heart raced like a horse.

"It... it wasn't my fault... it wasn't....."

"Keep telling that to yourself, babes. Not like you have anyone else to comfort you."

And with that, Yasmine walked away. Alora ran. Ran straight to her room. Where she could find solace in her critters; - or more likely, in her blood dripping down her arms. Mixing with the tears falling down her face and she fell back into the dark corners of her mind.

She felt queasy once she finally reached her door as unease flickered like thunder throughout her entire body. It'd be okay. It'd all be okay once she was inside her safe space. She could get dressed up, rant to her animals, listen to her music. It'd all be okay.

That's what she told herself until she opened the door to see her room in shambles. Her band posters where torn the shreds as well as the clothes in her closet. But worse of all, her precious Mozambique Spitting Cobra was flattened like a pancake and stapled to her wall, the poor creatures blood trailing down the walls while surrounded by the crushed bodies of her tarantulas in some sort of mock-pentagram. Alora fell to the floor with a harsh thump as she bit down hard onto her wrists, sobbing wildly. What did she do to deserve this? Why her? She silently cursed onto her skin as her heart felt overwhelmed and numbed all at the same time. Another thump rang throughout the room shortly after bashing her head into her bedframe. Once, twice, thrice. She could feel her own blood matting her hair as her tears rolled down her cheeks.

Just as she thought she was going to faint, Alora felt something cold lightly headbutt her thigh. Before she could look towards it, the creature had already begun slithering up and around her.

"S-Stefan? You're..... you're....."

She sobbed harder as she wrapped her arms around the thick snake, running her hands down his spine to check for injuries. Alora apologetically mumbled to the python until she had no more tears to shed.

"Yasmine... it was her...I know it was her! I have to do something - I have to..... I.... what can I do?"

In need of ideas, Alli?

A voice echoed in her head.

An eye for an eye, I say. Let's see how she feels when her entire world is burnt to the ground.

Alora needed no more convincing than that. No more than a whisper in her ear to take another life. But she wanted to burn more than just Yasmine's entire world. She'd burn down her whole dormitory with her in it.

"I'll be back soon, Stefan. I love you."

She gave her last living pet a deep kiss on the forehead before carrying him into her bathroom, away from the carnage of his siblings. Not without leaving him with his favorite log, of course.

Pacing through the halls, Alora already knew where everything she'd need is; most of it being in the science closet. All she needed was some gasoline, a few tanks of propane, bundles of cloth, and a lighter. No one even passed her a second glance as the girl strode this way and that with a concerning about of flammables. Part of her wished for someone to notice. For someone to reach out and stop her. But no one did. And so she continued.

Alora waited until night before setting her plan in motion. Her first course of action was to block off the ground floor exits- which was the gasoline's purpose. She drew a ring of gasoline all around the Glamoria dormitory with a twisted smile on her face. Twice, for good measure.

Once satisfied, Alora scooped up one of the propane tanks with her ghoul strength and twisted the knob ever-so-slighty. A soft whistle came from the canister as she steadied her aim at the fourth floor window. Right at Yasmine's room. The sound of shattering glass rang out as the propane tank burst through the window quickly followed by a cloth ball of fire.

With her primary victim compromised, Alora went haywire on the rest of the dorm. Throwing canister after canister. Flaming bundle after flaming bundle. Chucking more and more gasoline until she has none left. The building lit up in flames like a big bonfire even the heavens could see. And Alora sat back and watched it all, her smile never fading. She had taken her revenge. And she felt ecstatic.

[jewish-vents]

i miss my israeli cousins

i haven’t seen, or even talked to any of them since me nd my family last visited in 2018

one of my cousins is was born in the same year as my brother (2015) yet in my head she’s still a tiny child who doesn’t speak any english and barely speaks hebrew bcz i haven’t seen her since before she turned 3

another one of my cousins had a baby last august, who i’ve seen a few pictures of and learned her name but other than that nothing (i missed the same cousin’s wedding aswell)

one of my other cousins started active service in the idf back when 7/10 happened (10/7 for the americans) and his sister’s probably going to be drafted soon if she hasn’t already

my family was gonna go again in november 2023 for their brother’s bar mitzvah but obviously we couldn’t and had to miss it

i haven’t even spoken to any of them since i came out as trans (late 2020/early 2021) and based on how my family are (especially my mum and grandma, the side of the family they’re on) i seriously doubt they’ve been told, and in the unlikely event that they have they’ve definitely forgotten based on the way my mum nd grandma deadname me 90% of the time they’re not talking directly to me and misgender me 100% of the time always

i just don’t know any of them anymore, and none of them know me and that sucks bcz when i was younger we used to visit at least once a year to see them and my great grandparents (before they died) but then we missed a year cause we were sick or something then covid happened then we were too busy dealing with other shit and then the fucking war ramped up a month before we were supposed to see my cousin’s bar mitzvah and hasn’t gotten safe enough for us to see them again so now these people who are my literal family are as good as strangers to me

i should probably ask my grandma for their numbers or something but i don’t even know what id say to them at this point, it’d be worse than trying to reconnect with old friends for me because at least i can remember what those people were like 2 or 3 years ago + are around my age, had similar opinions, etc.

this is also contributing to my feeling of being disconnected from the jewish community irl tbh, i should really talk to my family about this (like my mum nd stuff) but i am physically incapable of being even slightly emotionally vulnerable so ig im sticking to online spaces, my one close jewish friend, and whichever holidays my family decides are worth celebrating🧍

sorry got kinda off topic there but yk (idk how to end this 😭)

.

[katieraven]

alriiight so remember how one and a half years ago i said id do a series on skz as romantic tropes, inspired by @jinniebit's post? surprise, i am actually still working on it! i have not forgotten! i just am very slow.

but since ive been working on the enemies to lovers!minho fic over the last couple of days and i actually like where it is going, i figured id prove that i didnt vanish into the void give you a sneak peak.

i wont give you context because i dont want to spoil the rest of the story but i think it works without context anyways.

so here you go.

“I’m just saying, he has a car, he literally offered to take us, why the hell would you not take that offer?”

Jisung and you are arguing in the kitchen. Chan and Changbin are throwing a party at their place and both you two and Minho are invited. It already bugs you to have to spend the evening around him, but Minho offered to drive and while you realise that that is just way too convenient to not take up, it is also going against every ounce of your being to accept that. 

“I’ll walk, it’s fine,” you shrug and return your attention to the dishes you’re currently scrubbing, maybe a bit more vigorously than necessary. 

“Walk? To the other side of town?!”

You have to give it to him; the place is kind of far away. 

“Fine, I’ll take the bus.”

You know he won’t take that as an answer, he knows that you hate public transport. And sure enough, you’re staring at a plate, when Jisung’s face slowly pushes into your field of vision.

“Public transport. You.”

You shrug, “sure. Can’t be that bad, huh?”

“Look at me.”

You roll your eyes, but Jisung is nothing if not stubborn, so you turn to the left where he is still staring at you. 

“You are being unreasonable. We both know you can’t walk there, and you hate buses, so why on earth would you not take the offer of someone driving?”

You hold his stare. You can be just as stubborn as he is, and it already annoys you that Minho will be there at all – you’re not going to drive there with him as well. 

“I just don’t like him, that’s all.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not asking you to marry him, am I? You can even sit in the back, and you don’t have to say a single word.”

“I hate sitting in the back, though. And I don’t like when other people drive,” you add a bit quieter, and return to your dishes. It’s not even a lie.

Jisung sighs and pats you on the shoulder.

“So that’s it. You don’t feel safe in other people’s cars, yeah?”

That’s only one part of the problem, but it sounds reasonable enough to just go with this version, so you nod. 

“That’s alright, I don’t know a safer driver than Minho. Seriously,” he adds when he realises that you’re not convinced, “I don’t feel great with a lot of drivers either, but he really pays attention and doesn’t speed and all that. And I’m with you, I can make a fuss about him having to be really careful if you don’t want to say anything.”

He playfully nudges you, and it does make you smile a bit. You suddenly feel bad that you’re being so difficult. Sure, you don’t like Minho, but Jisung does for some reason and you’re being a pain about it. So, you give in. It can’t be that bad.

*** 

And to your surprise, it really isn’t that bad at all. Jisung nudges you toward the passenger seat and goes to sit in the back, and you try and be a decent person and greet Minho when you climb onto the seat. He watches you get in with his attentive eyes – you keep wondering what they remind you of – and nods in return, a small greeting back. 

Jisung starts talking as soon as he closes the door, and you know it is to not make you feel uneasy next to Minho. You appreciate it, but it makes you feel even worse about your behaviour earlier. When Minho starts the car, you clench your fists in anticipation, focusing on the dull pressure of your nail into the skin of your palms, to not focus on the feeling in your stomach. You feel Minho’s eyes on you when you stop at a traffic light, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but the car starts more smoothly when the light goes green.

Somewhere along the drive, you unclench your fingers and run them over the crescents your nails left behind. Jisung was right, you muse, Minho does drive safer than anyone you’ve ever driven with. He eyes you at stop signs and traffic lights, and just before you go around the last corner into the street Chan and Changbin live in, you realise what his eyes feel like. There is a feline attentiveness to them, calmly and quietly observing the people around him. Somehow, it makes you feel even worse about the fuss you made. What it must have looked like from the outside when you refused to shake his hand. You feel like a fool. 

The door to the passenger side opens and shakes you out of your thoughts. You look up, and sure enough, Minho is holding the door, one hand extended – just like he did in the kitchen. Your eyes jump back and forth between his hand and his face. There is something in his eyes, something very well concealed – and when it changes to a satisfied sparkle as you grab his hand, you realise it was insecurity.

***

tag list: @rachalixie (i did promise), @chvnnie (no idea if you are still interested but im not gonna leave you out), @jinniebit (because youre the reason this series exists at all honestly) and @lurkmethist (did u see what i did here amethyst i think im hilarious hehe - but i promised id tag u still) ALSO @an0ther-us3r (bc u liked the other snippet so much maybe u wanna read this too?)

[angellurgy2]

you can self-medicate, and practice finding joy. its a skill you can improve. a little less than a decade ago i thought id never feel happiness again either. 5 years ago i thought nothing would make it worth surviving. 2 years ago i didn't think i'd make it. but little by little by little by little i learned how to find happiness even when everything seems dark. and its not all rainbows but its enough, and i'm fighting tooth and nail to make things better. its not easy but its possible. don't give up on yourself. you can make it.

theres no shame in doing what it takes to keep yourself safe and happy and alive. even if its 'unhealthy,' its healthier than dying. anyone who says otherwise just doesnt get what its like to be at rock fucking bottom, when your only climbing gear is made of fiberglass. it hurts and youll bleed but you wont rot down there. you'll see the sun again.

you can make it.

-juniper

i cant self medicate, i have no way to find drugs that would help the things i have. there isnt rlly a "practicing joy" when its a chemical imbalance and also just me not having anyone. its impossible to find joy when i can never have the drive to be anything and when im unmedicated in any meaningful way. i can only give up bc every single person ik except like 3 people have already given up on me.i cant do anything even unhealthy things to keep me alive bc i have no way at all of getting what i need. weed only dissociate me and doesnt even do it well. i have no escape from the constant 24/7 pain and loneliness. no escape from the constant memories of how forgotten and unloveable i am, especially when going to things only proves me right. sorry, thx juni

[rosekasa]

🥑🐝

hi anon!!!!

writers' truth & dare asks

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

immediately my best friend @renwatchesanime ahdjsja. they would bring out their apple pen and notability and our criminal law textbook

i think id also text @jattendschaton for emotional support because i feel like bren is the person ive sent so many vns to like 'am i bad person for this?? i feel like a bad person' and bren is very good at either reassuring me im not a bad person or honestly saying 'what you did wasnt ideal but i love you and understand you and you'll be fine'

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

BUTTTTT I HAVE SO MANY 🥺🥺🥺 IM BLESSED WITH SO MANY PEOPLE ANON!!!

@mozzygan : morgan my beloved: someone who never lets anyone feel forgotten! it's such a wonderful trait to remember people the way she does, especially when she does so many awesome things day to day already!! i feel like someone's priorities say a lot about them as a person and this is so true with morgan

@asukiess : autumn my beloved, she's always cheering me on 🥺 she is such a beautiful person in terms of literally everything -- personality, appearance, her brain, her creations -- and it feels like she is so Fully beautiful that just being around her makes you feel beautiful too

@ladyofthenoodle : noodles has known me since i was sixteen and has always felt like someone i know would stand by me regardless of how active i was in the fandom. i think the thing about noodles that has always inspired me is just the insane level of dedication she has to things in her life -- her work, her fics, her friendships, everything. to me she is someone extremely purposeful and very admirable!!

@jattendschaton : brenu has also known me since i was a baby and she has made me feel so loved and safe in her presence, even back when i didnt really believe i deserved it. bren has such a loving soul and i think it really shows in everything they do. their writing, their art, their tags on reblogs, and ESPECIALLY in conversations, you can tell that they are extremely full of love. talking to them feels like getting a hug. you can't NOT feel secure with them, even if you don't feel secure in yourself.

@hakucho-art : mika is my opposite in the ways that are so important to me. she is all the ambition and fire and fierce steadfastness to get what she wants that i lacked before i met her, and the best part is it's so natural to her that she doesn't even do it consciously. she is the person i turn to when i need to be reminded to stop thinking so much about what's the right thing to do and instead just do the thing and figure out what's right later. they are so amazing in every way and literally a case study on how to be naturally successful

@renwatchesanime : ren is my best friend and is quite literally always there for me. like, i never feel like im ever in an unescapable bind bc i know ren will somehow help me out. my fav thing about ren since forever has always been their brain. they're so fucking smart that i was jealous of them before we became friends. their thinking patterns feel like they catch all the things mine miss, and they're so insanely good at connecting information together and making it make sense. they're quite frankly an absolute genius and they dont give themselves enough credit for it.

[chuuyascumsock]

Helloooo

That rat reaction pic was both adorable and had me laughing my ass offf(my sense of humor is lowkey highkey kinda broken so apologies 😭)

ALSO

ME??? A MONSTERFUCKER??????HUH?? THAT SOUNDS DEPLORABLE! But youre right so anyway- (kinda actually saw a monsterfucker bingo and did it{yknow just for funsies and shi} and like i ticked off 10 of the 24 boxes? i mean i think thats enough to qualify??? Right??)

okie soo umm i kinda waited too long to type out the thoughts and they um *disssipated* so immm kinda gonna string together the crumbs i still remember🥲

(Also like to clarify when i say werewolf,i kinda mean like the something between like that one halloween official art and atsushi when he’s in his weretiger form?)

Imagine werewolf chuuya who just cant keep his hands off you when he’s in heat,he just NEEDS you,CARNALLY

While you’re cooking dinner he’ll come up behind you and wrap his arms around you,nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck,lightly nibbling on your skin and just slightly grinding his crotch into your ass.

After a while you can feel his hard on and how hes desperately trying to hold himself back.

so you do the only sensible thing you can think of~

You turn around and kiss him~

You have no idea how it escalated from a passionate kiss to this,but now he has you bent over the kitchen island,your underwear discarded and forgotten while he frees his hard cock from his now-tight pants.he coats his dick in lube and precum before he thrusts into your rear,(although he’d love to go right at it,he knows your only human and would never want to hurt you) going at an inhuman speed and illicitting the most lewd little sounds for you~

His claws sinking into your hips to hold you in one place,all the while he’s letting out breathy “good girl/boy” and “that’s it take it hnghh you take me so good doll” s as he ruts into your ass.as he feels his climax nearing he goes harder and deeper his throbbing cock continuously hitting your g-spot causing you you whine and moan out loud,all which makes him go harder,the feeling of your tight little hole driving him over the edge and when he finally comes its thick sticky and he doesn’t let a single drop seep out.he continues rutting into you,fuckin his come back into you while keeping you locked in a mating press.after around two to three more rounds(now having moved to the bedroom) he slows down and makes sure your okay.he loves to see the fucked out look on your face as he cleans you up and as he sees your silly little hole white and glazy with his come he has to resist the urge to plug you up and let you stay that way until your next session,but if youve previously said your okay with it he’s definitely gonna do it-

Once your tucked in all nice clean (and *cough*plugged up) he gets into bed as well spooning you and lightly licking the bites and hickey now covering your neck and collarbone.

(I wanna add some more but i think this is already long enough.i hope this makes sense and sounds coherent at least,i think i got a little lost in the sauce🥲)

Also yess i saw that voyeurism tag👀👀👀 (got me wet just thinking about it🫣)

Ooh and also of smut,fluff,angst and crack,What’s your favorite??

And bestie(am i allowed to call you that?) im like 99.99% your irl personality is just as great as your online one🙄🤚

That isnt debatable btw🫶

I speak facts not fiction 😌

Well except for the smut,that’s fictional-

ACTUALLY NO FRICK IT THATS FACTS TOO!🙌

And to end this silly,goofy and unreasonably long ask id just like to wish you a lovely day/afternoon/evening/night filled with snackies,dopamine-inducing events and a lot of,as you said, H2hoe!

Stay safe and slay safe😌💅🏻

(Help its 4.50 am😭🥲)

-🧀

YOU DID, YOU DID GET LOST IN THE SAUCE, YOU WERE DROWNING IN IT 😭 BUT IT WAS GOOD SAUCE, DELICIOUS SAUCE EVEN. (Fr made me choke on my mango and everything while reading).

Glad you specified that you didn’t mean Chuuya like full furry mode or that would’ve been awky 💀

Literally Chuuya— but THAT WAS SO GOOD ACTUALLY. I can’t believe you wrote almost a full smutshot in my inbox, you should rlly write this down and post your own smut LMAO.

I forgot to add something to my Detective Chuuya summary, but it’s ok, I fixed it 🤭

My favorite genre is crack, I feel like I write top tier crack ngl, my Ai chats also look insane with all the silly stuff I do with the characters (literally mostly Dazai bc I kin him so doing platonically silly shit w/ him is my comfort).

AND YES YOU CAN CALL ME BESTIE— I feel like we’re definitely past that 😈 But I will have to deny my irl personality being just as good as my online one because I am socially inept 🥰

ALSO GET SOME SLEEP BESTIE CAUSE THAT’S SUPER IMPORTANT (I’m a hypocrite). BUT EAT A GOOD BREAKFAST AND FUCK UP THOSE CLASSES 💪😼

[nahalism]

Did you ever experience some kind of…almost debilitating anxiety? I’m talking of months or + gnawed and exhausted by fear and both mental and physical sensations that come with it. How did/do you move through it

luv

a long one in advance but lol yh bare times. ill answer ur question, but there's two sides to the route i took and i have 2 preface with everything i did and do is based off of what i feel is right for me at the time. it doesnt mean its right though, and im very aware of that, so ill share some parts, but ultimately each person has is their own experience. the first step to moving through something, is looking for answers so like.. deeper than whatever i have to say, the answer is not in my answer, its in the fact u want answers

anyway. throwback to 6 ish years ago, i was having a breakdown breakthru and i started viewing what i called anxiety, as hyper vigilance. i started to see i was using a way of perceiving reality, along with my ability for analysis, to create correlations between my present, based on my perception of the past, to determine/predict the future (both futile and fallible), not cause i wanted to know what was going to happen, but because i thought keeping account of all possible outcomes gave me control and control would keep me safe and stop me experiencing a version of life i didnt want to go back to (more specifically it stopped me feeling helpless & inconsequential). as i understood that, along with the traumas at the root of my hyper vigilance, and the anxiety (social and general cause they r v separate), i recognised that i wanted control because i wasn't confident i could take charge or respond to reality without immense preparation. on top of that, i was resisting the fact that i was anxious because i was calling the symptoms i was experiencing my anxiety, but the real anxiety was the way i thought, and i was actually addicted to thinking in that way, because even though i hated it, and what it did to my body/nervous system, it was protecting my ego by giving me a false sense of control.

so that was my first step. i began to take action from where i was, as i was. that meant listening to what made me anxious. for example, if a place or person made me anxious, i didnt interact or go. i validated myself and what i was feeling. & i dont mean that in an avoidant sense, ill say why in a second. but yeah i validated what i was feeling, and began to see that the more i gave myself permission to be who i was, and do what i wanted unapologetically, the less direct anxiety id experience. and that sounds like an easy decision to have made in hindsight but usually, the change a persons anxious to make is something that in the moment requires a huge leap of faith but seems inevitable in hindsight. anyway, that's when i really realised that i was anxious because i was living an inauthentic life based on premeditation rather than presence. i had/have concurrent ptsd, so there were a lot of emotions i hadn't felt in a long time without realising, like passion or genuine laughter, happiness, joy, peace. id literally forgotten anything but this autopilot need to protect myself, be there for the people that had been there for me and stay alive. in giving myself permission to be different from who i had been, i started to see the world free from what my past dictated it should be and everything started to open up as as a consequence. side note, id been studying metaphysics and philosophy since 6 form, and i can't underestimate how much the principles i learned there helped me transmute my situation. ive recommended all those books in here before, so u can find them, but yeah . it sounds pretty and idyllic and as essy as 'changing my mind' but it was fucking brutal. i transformed in every sense of the word i lost almost everything in the process. there were wins along the way but 90% of them were silver linings of my own deciding. however, nothing i lost needed to stay! and everything i chose to go through or was subjected to led me to understand me and opened options as to how i could cultivate a beautiful and real inner life that eventually began to bleed out into the 'real' world.

the dark side of that, which is how i reached most of those revelations and insights, is the experiential bit that i can't communicate. i literally put myself through hell, and i can type till my fingers fall of and still never convey the full picture of how what why when, but yh. when i said i listened to my anxiety, i meant that literally. as i said before, i didnt allow myself to be avoidant. so if there was a reason i didnt want to do something, i honoured it, but lets say the only obstacle to me doing something was my anxiety, id force myself to do it, to the point of masochism. literally, i was obsessed. day in day out i was reading on self improvement, i studied every religion, researched philosophers, listened to hour long lectures on youtube, i did everything i could do to understand myself, my mind, life, and how to reprogram what i was experiencing. at the same time as this i used to myself in situations that would trigger panic attacks, or dissociative episodes and find ways to 'function' through it. one that worked very well was smoking weed, sometimes alone, sometimes in bad company. weed gave me severe panic attacks at the time, so when i was on my own, id smoke to induce panic attacks so i could meditate, breathe, draw, write, literally do whatever helped to bring myself through the panic attack. then when i felt capable with that, id smoke in bad company and practice with the pressure of being in front of people and there would be times id b having full blown panic attacks in front of people, sometimes with, but usually without them knowing and the whole time was just training myself to understand or pay attention to my mental patterns, training myself to calm myself down, to reach a zone where i could see through what was triggering me, or at the very least just firm it. and the more i did that, the more i understood why i was dissociating, or collapsing, or having chest pains, hyperventilating all that shit. the more i understood, the more i reeeaaally understood, and then i got to a point where even though the trigger is there lol, it still exists, but when it gets pulled i can hold the explosion. because i feel it happening, i see it happening, but it happens to something within me and not to me now? and so i kind of watch it and love and appreciate it for what learning to temper it taught me. its like a familiar old friend has its quirks that i wouldn't change for the world and yh idk im just rambling i need to go to bed. but basically i stopped being debilitated by anxiety by living in complete debilitation of it until it couldn't debilitate me any more. id be lying if i didnt say it drove me to very dark, lonely, appearance of being semi crazy states of being, but it was worth it and still is.

without the period of isolation the second half of what i described put me through, i couldnt have found realignment cause i wouldnt have seen how incorrect my projection of my past onto the future was, or how to correct it. & deep it, if all u know is death misery lack poverty shortage economic & social insecurity, then all u can see for the future is that. once u open ur eyes and see urself and the world for what is u can start playing. it wasnt easy, and im still not over being anxious. but its not debilitating, just an uneasy emotion. & the way i see it at this point, its just my inner system seeing something what my eyes dont & making me aware. when i listen im redirected, and can find alignment. when i dont it gets worse, and the only way out is to be numb. but i wanna live and i cant live numb. hope i answered, love <3