#It would be great if this were one of those Apple Music Things like he did for the album debut so we could watch in HQ

[theamazingannie]

I’m a sucker for musical parallels and referencing an old song in a new song but I feel like this TTPD lead up is not just a “this is how I used to feel and now I’m using those themes to show how I feel now” and more of a “those feelings were never real and actually those love songs that were so beautiful before are actually about a bad relationship and full of red flags” cuz it’s honestly ruining my feelings on those old songs. Like Taylor’s whole thing is letting us interrupt the songs and apply them to our own lives and now it’s like even she is encouraging us to only see them through the lens of her most recent breakup and it really sucks tbh

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

BLESSINGS TO EVERYONE WHO GETS TO GO TO LOT Italy!

The final shows are always the best and I know it's gonna be special. To those of you who get to watch live streams, I wish you great connection! I will be out all weekend for a friend's birthday (I'm sad at the coincidence, but priorities I guess LOL), but I know it will be a magical thing for everyone, even from afar!

[thatoneguydownthestreet]

Hey so how would lilia feel about apocalypse yuu and the obvious world ending war and after effects from where yuu is from?

Thank you for feeding us apocalypse yuu <3

I started maniacally laughing as soon as I read the name lilia

FEM ALIGNED DNI

How Lilia Vanrouge reacts to the war and its effects: 

Lilia would say your relationship was pretty good. As nameless and as vague as it was. It was...peaceful. 

It was nice.

You were learning to trust people, to trust him. To let your guard down just a little bit more each day. To speak your mind and make decisions and to just simply walk with him without looking over your shoulder every few seconds. 

He’ll never forget that feeling of happiness and relief when you fell asleep with him right there next to you for the first time, or when you saw him enter a room and he saw your shoulders drop just that much. 

Once, in the pop music club room, Cater had asked him how he got you to relax around him so easily. He only gave a small chuckle and a vague response, as he himself didn’t truly know at the time. 

He still doesn’t. only having a few loose theories here and there, but he is grateful to be able to know you just a little bit more than the average person. To be able to live this long to see you come here, to this world, scared and confused and hopelessly, utterly lost, and then to see you start to really live for the first time.

He hopes he hopes that he’ll be blessed enough to live to see you thrive. 

Honestly? he thinks it’s because of something simple. So, so simple

He listens.

Not to say the others don’t of course, they listen!

they just ...don’t really believe you. 

Lilia doesn’t blame them, honestly.

It truly feels like you exaggerate your past and lack of knowledge at times.

The most obvious example he can think of is when epel, that pretty first year boy, gifted you one of those beautiful red apples that grew on his parents farm, only for you to look at it with confusion and distrust. 

You didn’t know what an apple was.

You didn’t know what most fruits were period. (Or cheese, or most meats,or most vegetables, he thinks he saw you reboot like an old computer the first time you saw milk) Often confusing the names and refusing to eat them if you forgot what they were. 

It was at that point where he could tell your rag tag little group of friends started to doubt your words. Just a bit.

He would have too, if not for the clear, heavy distress that simply couldn’t be faked that was ever so evident on your face when he'd asked.

“Perfect, do you really not know what any of these fruits are”, he has taken extra care to keep this conversation playful. He wasn’t trying to embarrass you after all. 

You simply huffed, a bit of frustration showing. 

Lilia ignored the little happy spark he got from seeing you show what you were feeling. You were getting better at that.

“Of course I don’t! we don’t have fresh fruit in the tunnels! Not to mention things like "cheese" and dont even get me started on good meat!”, you said it like it so obvious...

You never explained what the tunnels were. But lilia could guess.

He had a bad feeling about them either way....

So yes. The others listened. But you could both see crystal clear that they took what you said with a heavy grain of salt. 

Lilia on the other hand, believed every word. Or at least tried too.

So when you asked him to swing by Ramshackle saying you wanted to show him something, how could he refuse?

Really, how could he?

....

Lilia Vanrouge didn't know what he was expecting. He knew it was probably something big, judging from your earlier tone of voice.

But this....

this was just sickening.

you sat shirtless on the floor, with your arms out in the air in front of you. 

with your scars on full display. 

there were (oh great seven) there were slash marks all across your chest. Ragged and uneven and ugly. Looking like whatever cut them in took extra care to truly rip and tear your flesh apart.

There were burn marks on your shoulders and your stomach. Looking like they came from both fire and electricity. The electric burns spiderwebbing their way up the side of your neck and around your sides.

There were what looked to be claw marks and dog bites on your stomach as well, like you were almost frantically mauled to death and just barely made it out with your life.

There was a circular hole he didn't know the cause of on both sides of your right forearm, the underside scar being in the same spot but significantly worse.

There were like deep (deep) bruises that he could see everywhere on your body.

and then there were the marks on your back....

There were whip marks and lashes absolutely everywhere. Slashed across every which way, overlapping with each other and digging into your flesh. there were a few places that he swore had less skin than others. and oh God some of them only looked a few months old. 

Some of them were fresh when you came here.

Lilia didn’t know what the rest of your body looked like, but he already knew that your back was in the worst condition out of everything.

A small whimper snapped him out of his thoughts.

You were still on the floor, now sifting slightly, like you were embarrassed.

Embarrassed. What an odd little human.

Lilia immediately got down on the floor and sat in front of you, dust and possible bugs be damned.

He didn't touch you, only looking at your face and tried to make eye contact.

He tried his best to avoid looking at your neck. The lighting in this old dorm was bad but he swore he could still see a slash-

"Y/N....can you please look at me?", gentle. Just keep the tone gentle for now.

You still looked away from him. Lilia sighed.

Gently, oh so gently, he brought his hand to your face and slowly turned you head towards him.

You didn't flinch. Not once! And if lilia silently celebrated this feat later? Well, that was his business, and his alone.

Your eyes held a hint of fear when you looked at him. Fear of rejection.

Why would he ever push you away for something like this?

...Did someone do that before?

He heard you let out a faint, shaky breath, trying to find your voice.

He still didn't say anything. Just let you take your time. He couldn't rush something like this.

So he sat there, just out of reach as to not overwhelm you, as you took a deep breath and tried to compose yourself.

"So uh...I'm sure you have questions", you tried to say it in a way that lightened the mood, but your voice came out small.

It was fine. You couldn't lighten something like this either way.

The fae infront of you looked at you with the patients of a someone who's lived a dozen lifetimes and counting, which made you relax just a bit more.

Good.

"That I do perfect, but make no mistake, you are not obligated to answer"

"No! No, I- I want you to know. I wouldn't have shown you otherwise...", your voice trailed off.

Lilia took a deep breath.

Ok. Sharing scares.

Sharing memories.

Sharing war stories.

He could do that. He's done it before hundreds of times. He could do it again.

He just...didn't want to do it with someone so young. Someone who had absolutely zero business doing any type of life or death fighting.

Unfortunately, life was a total bitch and just loved putting him in these exact situations.

"Ok...ok. so why don't you tell me about...this one first", lilia pointed to the circular hole that went through your arm. He wanted to know what caused it.

(And maybe. Just maybe, find something that could heal it)

You sighed a bit. He thinks in relief? And smiled just a tad.

"Ok... that one was caused when me and a rescue team were trying to locate one of the medics that had gone missing during a surprise raid on the southwest base.... I wasn't even supposed to be there really...", you trailed off again. Your eyes glossing over a little.

Well. That couldn't happen.

The last thing he wanted here was for you to relive any one of these scars.

"What was the medics name?", it was the only thing he could ask, really. He didn't understand much of what else you had said.

You took a deep breath. Right.

You weren't there anymore.

"Caroline. Her name was Caroline. And she has a sister named Kate.... she's the one who put in the request for her to be found. Her body, at the very least"

Lilia began to wonder what exactly happened during these "raids". And why it required children to clean up the aftermath.

"Caroline. She was the medic. Ok.... you said you weren't supposed to be there?"

You looked a little sheepish at that.

"Yeah... our base was short on explosives manufacturers so they sent me. I was still learning but apparently I knew enough to go out there anyway. Heh...yeah, it didn't turn out too well"

....explosive manufacturers?

Lilia had met and worked with plenty if mages that specialized in more.. dramatic shows of magic. Especially during the wars.

How, lilia wondered, was something like that simulated without magic?

...He didn't know if he wanted to find out.

Instead of asking what in the seven an explosive manufacturer was, he asked:

"Why did you have to go though? Surely there were other uh...people in your field? That had nore experience", he kept his tone soft, trying to keep you unaware of the anger that was slowly building in his gut.

You silently shifted where you were sitting, looking like you regretted this more and more.

Damn.

Carefully, he added, "where were the others?"

"...active combat was getting more and more rare....no one thought- I mean- we just needed farmers and hunters and medics more than we needed weapons at the time"

The look on your face was...hard to describe as you struggled to explain your past situation as quick as possible. Like you would be punished if you didn't do it fast enough.

Hm...

"Y/N...", lilia started slowly

He had an idea of what your world was like.

He had a good idea of what your world was like.

And he was hoping that he wasn't right.

Your head raised a bit. Making eye contact with him and calming down just a little. Good. But he was going to feel all the more guilty about what he was about to say.

"Were you by chance, involved in any type of warfare?"

Lilia didn't know what you'd do. He had been ready for anything. For you to scream and shout and scratch and fight. For you to try and deny what you both already knew for whatever reason.

But you never did.

Instead, you just tilted your head to the side, like a confused dog.

Then you said:

"The war ended around...50 years ago? 60? I don't know for sure. The records were all destroyed, and the elders that fought in it are quickly dying out"

Lilia breath hitched.

All those scars. All their stories. Are from the aftermath? The aftermath of a finished war is still producing what lilia believes might very well be child soldiers.

And then you spoke again.

"When I was...I think twelve? I don't know. No one really knows their age. But I was definitely around twelve. The other manufacturers with more experience and a better idea if what they're doing got sent to the northern bases. They were needed there. They wouldn't tell me why"

...

...Twelve?

"Anyways, a couple months later -or were they weeks?- some time later, Caroline went missing"

Twelve?

"And I was really all they had to send"

Twelve.

"Now that I think about it...it was probably because they could replace me well enough if it didn't go as good as it did"

Fucking TWELVE?!

"As good as it did?!", lilias voice startled you out if your own head.

You looked at him. He looked back at you with an expression of exasperated rage.

You stopped talking.

"As good-as GOOD as it did!"

"Y/N. Y/N there is no good in this! This-" He grabbed your arm. Gesturing to the old, half healed scar that had started this whole mess "-is terrible! Dammit this is a crime against morality!"

...

...oh.

You looked at your arm. At the old shot gun would you had gotten after getting your arm stuck just outside if the entrance to the tunnel you and your temporary team had taken.

You could barely even remember why you had it out in the first place.

To throw a grenade you had put together on the spot? A stick of dynamite? You didn't know.

All you knew was that it hurt.

It still does sometimes.

You looked down at your own body.

They all still do sometimes.

....

Oh God...

You looked back at lilia, and the night resumed.

None of what you said will likely never be repeated outside if the walls of Ramshakle. Not all of it at least.

You didn't tell lilia about the scars on your back. You probably never will.

That was fine.

You told him what you had to do to survive, and he told you that you shouldn't have had to do that in the first place.

There were things that were never really explained. Like guns or grenades or that old, abandoned army tank that you played when you were a child.

("So it's a car...with a Canon on it?"

"Uhhhh. Sure. Yeah")

And other things...

Well. Turns out some scenarios are seen a bit different here.

You don't your age.

That's sad. Not bormal.

You don't know who your real parents are. The high infant mortality rate in the southeast base and the tunnels surrounding it that most mothers simply give away their children to avoid the pain of burying their babies.

That's a tragedy. A horrible, horrible tragedy.

Not normal.

Just like your life.

........

As soon as he got back to Diasomnia, lilia went to check on silver. Then sebek. Then malleus.

Silver and sebek were asleep. And he could see malleus taking a walk about the dorm from his bedroom window.

They were safe. Lilia felt his shoulders drop for the first time that night.

...and then he did something he never thought he would need do again.

Slowly, lilia walked over to his desk, lighting a tall, white candle and setting out an expensive piece of meat.

Wasn't the best offering, but it'll due for now.

He hoped it would at least.

Religion had long since died out of twisted wonderland as a whole, with only a few churches and temples remaining in certain parts in the shaftlands and a few of the older families in briar valley truly practicing in this modern age. 

Even so, later that night when his dorm and his children were all sound asleep, lilia knelt beside his bed and prayed to his old god for the first time in centuries.

He could only hope that they would be answered. 

[the-man-in-the-suit-official]

Strange Mercy.

Summary: After hooking up with Harry occasionally, you fall pregnant. The real problem starts when he begins touring, and no matter what, you can never seem to make it past fans - or even the guards in order to tell him.

A/N: (D/N) = Daughter’s Name

Reader Pronouns: She/Her

Length: Medium

TW: Cheating, Single Pregnancy, Violence While Pregnant (Slight), Hookup, Angst (Fluff at the end)

Celebrities: Harry E. Styles

Song(s) To Listen To: Strange Mercy - St. Vincent

You met him at a party. You had been a groupie of some lowly band, really just because you liked their music, but since then, their guitarist had taken a liking to you. You had hoped this meant you were his girlfriend, and yeah, he’d sleep with you and take you on ‘dates,’ but he’d do this with other women, too.

Truthfully, Harry wasn’t even supposed to be there. The party was in New York, close to the building that happened to be throwing an after party for an awards ceremony. So when he saw you smoking a cigarette outside the building, watching the dirty guitarist flirt with a few girls to the left of you, he approached you.

“Erm,” He began, shifting your attention.

He was dressed rather lavishly, but casual for the party. He wore a floral Gucci button up shirt and dress pants with Gucci shoes. The Apple Watch against his wrist read, “You’ve Arrived!”

“Is this The Louvat? It doesn’t really look like it…” His accent was thick, rolling off his tongue slowly.

Taking another drag, you chuckled a bit, “No, this is Lamar, the bar a bunch of shitty bands play at? You must have mistyped it.”

You looked back at your ‘boyfriend,’ watching as he slid a hand up one of the girls’ waist. You settled into your fluffy coat a bit more.

“Here,” You took his phone and typed in the right thing, “So you don’t miss it.”

Harry blinked. It was odd not to be noticed, but he wasn’t complaining, and eased into it, “Thank you.”

“The Louvat, how’d you miss that?” Another chuckle escaped your lips, “Hasn’t it got paparazzi littering the place?”

Furrowing your brows, squinting and pressing your lips into a thin line, you asked, “Are you famous?”

This time, it was his turn to chuckle nervously, “Eh,” He shrugged.

You softened your face a bit, glancing at Luke, the guitarist, who now was caught up wrestling tongues with a different girl. You looked down, “Well, you should probably get going, huh?”

You flicked your cigarette to the side, and he noticed the man you were looking at.

Dipping his eyebrows in worry, something came over him, “Would you like to come with me? Completely free. You just, I don’t think you really belong here, is all.”

A pink dusted your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but blame it on the cold Fall air.

“I…” You looked toward Luke, but the stranger stepped closer, gently turning your head toward him by the chin.

“Think of yourself, alright?”

Those sea green eyes could have controlled you. Suddenly, it wasn’t chilly. It was warm, stemming from your heart.

“Aright,” You responded softly, “I’d love to go.”

To be honest, he could have been a kidnapper or a killer, but could one have such sweet eyes? And to be fair, you’d rather be anywhere but here.

He smiled at you softly, “Well, I’m quite early since I had a feeling I’d get lost. Let’s get you something to wear, yeah?”

You’d been dressed the opposite of him - wearing a sleazy coat lined with faux fur zipped right as low as it could be without showing too much cleavage, Daisy Dukes, and a pair of tennis shoes. All to impress some boy that didn’t seem to want you anyway.

You’d felt hot earlier, but in the presence of this stranger and his enchanting eyes, you melted with embarrassment.

“That would be great,” You sighed with a smile, “Someone told me to wear this here, and now he’s off flirting with someone else.”

“I see,” Harry began, “Then you need to choose what you like…” He trailed off.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N),” You took a hand out of your pocket and held it out, but he kissed it instead.

“Harry Styles. Nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

Luke caught a glimpse of you leaving with your handsome stranger, angrily shouting after you, but you flipped him off and laughed as the car strolled on, turning back to Harry soon after.

Harry had found himself enchanted by your laugh. You were gorgeous in the face of revenge.

And that’s where it began. You’d become good friends since then, and when you made your ‘debut’ accompanying him, you’d been dressed in lavish branded clothes, from your dress to your heels to your accessories.

You owed him a lot, really, but working as a waitress really sucked. You didn’t get paid much, unless some guy had taken a liking to you and you flirted back a bit.

But now, every attractive guy seemed less and less so, even when your coworker, Emma, seemed to gleam the handsome men. Harry, though, seemed more beautiful by the minute.

“I still can’t believe your friends with him,” Emma sighed, obviously envious, “And that you didn’t know who he was!”

She had begged you so many times to get him to meet her, and you refused, knowing her and her…tendencies. Not that you disapproved, you just wanted to keep Harry safe. Safe. What a weird way to put it.

Your shift had just ended and Emma was on break, though you weren’t even listening as you fixed your makeup and waited for your ride.

He came strolling in soon after, curls gorgeously bouncing with his steps, smiling from ear to ear when he caught a look at you.

“(Y/N)!”

The diner was nearly empty now, so he noted he could make a quick entrance and exit.

“H!” You smiled and ran toward him, hugging the taller man, “You all packed up?”

He nodded, hugging you back, “Yeah, but you call me if that Luke is giving you anymore trouble, alright?”

You nodded, starry-eyed and so obviously enamored, “Thank you.”

It was Harry’s yacht party when it happened. The both of you were as sober as can be. You had admitted (hesitantly, of course) that you were afraid of the water, and Harry, without the bat of an eye, decided that he would watch over you and drink nothing for the night.

Ultimately, you felt bad, but noted that he seemed to be having as much fun at his going-away party as he would under the influence.

“(Y/N),” He started, once he managed to come away from the crowd of celebrities you still couldn’t process were actually there, “I rented the yacht out for the night. After the party, you wanna take it around?”

Your heart leaped at the opportunity to have Harry alone, and you nodded, “That sounds great!”

And when the time finally came and the last person left, he turned to you with a huge smile.

Who would have thought that you’d be here, with the most handsome man you’d ever seen? He had a goofy smile and eyes that glittered, the ocean reflecting on them.

He was perfect.

“There are some pretty things out here,” He had spoken, excitement bleeding into his voice, “I wanted to show you.”

You were quite surprised that he even knew how to drive a boat, but you felt safe with him either way as he steered it through the night.

And there you sat together, staring at the stars that seemed so much clearer out in the open. His hand found the small of your back quickly but softly, and he smiled into the night sky.

“All of those guys forget that we’re just humans. We’re nothing compared to the stars,” He spoke, not even turning to you.

You hummed happily, not even noticing when he did face you, “Except you, (Y/N).”

You met his eyes in confusion, raising a brow before he continued, “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

You smiled bashfully, looking down, “Ah…I’m not that special, H.”

“But you are,” He scooted closer, “I…I knew from the moment we met that there was something different about you.”

Your eyes glimmered when they met with his again, your heart skipping a beat as the salty ocean air nipped your cheeks, “That means the world to me.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he inched your faces closer, “(Y/N)…would you let me love you this once? Before the tour starts again.”

Your face flushed red. And suddenly it made sense. Harry had felt something for you since you met, only he decided not to pursue anything after your breakup, and when you explained to him just how much relationships scared you since Luke. He figured that if dating a minor celebrity hurt you that much, then dating him would only be worse.

But he’d be leaving soon. And you’d miss him so, so much.

You nodded softly, lips parted before his met yours.

The butterflies began to fight their way out of your stomach, even as the kiss grew in intensity, and when he hoisted your legs around his waist, carrying you to the bed downstairs.

There wasn’t much thought for either of you, as he looked down at you, straddling you, “And you’re sure…you want to do this?”

“Yes,” You replied quicker than you meant to, “Yes, I’m sure.”

He was going to say something, but was only surprised when you pulled him by his collar and kissed him deeply.

-

The gentle beams of bright ocean light woke you, and you found yourself covered from your chest down to your thighs in a thick white comforter that felt like the softest thing in the world.

When you turned, you were met with an empty bed, making your heart sink. You’d trusted Harry dearly, would he just leave like Luke would?

You felt your mood begin to sour, that was, until you heard soft singing from above, and smelt blueberry pancakes, your favorite from the diner.

It was Harry, you would come to recognize, and your frown morphed into a wide smile. Once you were able to find the complimentary robe, you slipped it on, noticing it said, ‘Mrs.’

You giggled, figuring Harry had the matching one.

“Good morning, my sweet creature,” He set a plate down on the bar table for you, and another for himself, “How’d you sleep?”

You sat down and began to eat, thanking him before doing so, “Quite lovely, prince of pop.”

He exhaled a laugh, tying the robe around him once more, seeing as it was coming loose.

Part of you hurt, because you knew that you still weren’t quite ready - Like had messed you up terribly, and though Harry made you feel safe, there was still a block.

“Hey,” Harry’s hand met yours as you chewed your food, “I promise this doesn’t change anything. We can remain friends until you’re ready to decide, alright?”

You smiled sentimentally, overwhelmed with his understanding of you, “Thank you, H.”

He kissed your hand gently, and the two of you finished breakfast in peace.

He left less than a week later, taking your source of light with him. You wouldn’t be able to have him back at your house for almost a year, and though you could still visit, it would be hard.

It started with small things. About a month after he left, you began to wake up in the middle of the night more often, restless. Your chest became sore, no matter what, scaring you since your mind jumped straight to the idea of cancer.

It wasn’t until you sat on the toilet after spilling up last night’s dinner that you realized.

You were late.

And the theory became fact as you held onto the two pregnancy tests later that day, hand shaking in fear.

You were happy, of course, but you were anything but ready. Neither of you were.

The rest of the night, you were pacing, trying hard not to freak out in your small, bummy apartment, to no avail.

That night was more restless than the ones before it, and at 4:36 in the morning, you finally decided to tell Harry.

ME: We need to talk. Call me.

And just as quickly as it was sent, there was a reply.

HARRY: Due to insufficient funds, your service has been shut off until further notice. If you think that this is a mistake, or you would like to make a payment, please click the link below.

What awful timing.

It had come between either the phone bill or the rent this month, and you’d decided that you quite enjoyed shelter, but now you regretted it.

There was your friends you could meet in the morning, but Harry would never answer a message from an unknown number, especially one claiming such shocking things.

And who could you even talk to about this? Your family hardly spoke to you, ever since they found out you’d dated Luke, and this would only drive them away further, using their religion as a scapegoat for their pushing you away.

So you’d have to track him down. How hard could it be?

You saved for about three months, finally getting enough money for a plane ticket to meet Harry again, and though you couldn’t afford the concert ticket, you did your best efforts to come up with a plan.

As you idly watched the clock tick by, you prepared yourself for what was to come. Fan girls. Guards. Flashing lights. Nauseating smells.

And then you packed your bag and were on your way. Sneaking in was pretty easy, actually, especially when you recognized one of the guards as the one who drove the two of you to the party that fateful night.

The hard part was getting backstage during his intermission.

You had made it through, but now here was this giant man hassling you. He was buff, standing at at least 6’4”, and looking down at you through his sunglasses. You couldn’t have been farther apart.

“Hey, miss. You’re not allowed back here,” He raised a brow, stepping in front of you again, “I won’t say it again.”

You shook your head, “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m a friend of Harry’s, and I really, really need to tell him something important!”

You pushed forward, trying to reach the bright vanity, but the man pushed back with his hands. Instinctively, you grabbed your belly as you fell, landing on your side, a forearm holding you up.

“Hey! I’m fucking pregnant! What the hell?!”

He didn’t seem to care, hoisting you up by the arm on your belly, to your feet. The grip hurt, and you closed your eyes tightly, “I don’t care. I’m doing my job. It’s your fault if the baby dies because of you, you sick whore.”

He had obviously been frustrated, you’d noticed, and maybe he was right. Who were you to sleep around with Harry? Or with Luke? With anyone? What good did it do you but bring you here?

Tears started to sting your eyes, but all you could mutter was, “You’re stupid.”

He tossed you on the ground again, and you landed like before, not even meeting his eyes.

“Very bold of you to s-“ He began, but suddenly froze cold at a voice.

“(Y/N)? Bryan? What the hell are you doing?!” It was the fastest you’d ever heard him speak.

Bryan, you guessed, turned, his mouth agape, “A trespasser.”

“That’s my friend, you idiot! And any man who treats anyone like that shouldn’t be here in the first place!” Harry was now in his face, not even noticing your bump, “You’re fired!”

He looked over to you and his eyes widened in a second, “Oh my god. (Y/N)…you’re pregnant.”

“Really?” You chuckled sarcastically, a bit annoyed at the man as Harry helped you up, “I almost wasn’t when he kept rag-dolling me everywhere.

“Fucking leave,” He turned to the man, venom seething through his words, and when he did so, escorted by other guards, Harry turned back to you.

“I’m so sorry, love. I’ll make sure he’ll never be near us again,” He looked down at the bump, a bittersweet smile on his face, “Was it Luke?”

You felt safe with him, like usual, and you felt butterflies begin to swarm your insides.

“God, no,” You paused, looking down before meeting his eyes, “It’s yours.”

He froze completely, and you panicked, “But…I don’t mind raising it on my own, Harry. You’re a pop star and I knew what I was getting into, plus you’ll be busy. We can keep it a secret a-“

“No,” He spoke sternly yet softly, his hands holding yours as he smiled down at you, “No.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone else I’d want to have my kid,” He chuckled, “I would tell you you have pregnancy glow, but you always look that good.”

He was practically beaming, “God, I’m going to be a father! I can’t believe it! Thank you, thank you,” He hugged you tightly before pulling away, looking as if he realized something grim, “But, erm…if you want to raise it separately and as friends, that’s okay.”

You smiled solemnly, admiring just how stupid this boy was, quickly pulling him by his collar and smashing your lips on his.

When you pulled away, he blinked for a few seconds, “Did I get my point across?”

He nodded, smiling like an idiot.

“Then go out there and focus on your fans, okay? I’ll be in the private booths.”

The night, you thought, couldn’t have ended more wonderfully, but that’s when you were proven wrong. He stood on stage, finishing the previous song, Grapejuice, when he abruptly paused the show.

“Before I continue, I want everyone to know something,” Your heart skipped a beat, “I would like to dedicate this next song, Matilda, to everyone.”

The sentence brought your anxieties back down, “But most of all, (Y/N).”

And the tears began to fall for you, a hand over your mouth in surprise.

“She’s a wonderful girl, a long-time friend of mine who was never treated how she deserved to be treated. The kindest person I know, and the strongest,” He continued on, “And I’m honored to be the father of our baby.”

The crowd erupted into screams and cheers, and tears began to fall from him as well. Shifting his weight on his other leg, he gave his signature air kisses before the music began to play.

“You were riding your bike to the sound of ‘It’s No Big Deal.’”

-

When she, (D/N), finally arrived, it was the best thing to ever happen to either of you. Harry would have sworn by it, despite his very fortunate life, and even as she grew to a toddler, she looked just like him.

It made you smile as you held onto your husband of two years, “God, she looks just like you. From her eyes to her nose to her jaw.”

She was playing with the Golden Retriever puppy you’d gotten to grow up with her. She giggled even as she fell onto her bottom and was covered in kisses.

“She reminds me of you, most of all, love,” He looked at her lovingly, “I’m just worried she’ll be lonely growing up. I can’t imagine not having Gemma with me. I know we rushed into it a bit for her sake, but it’s the best thing we’ve ever done. Well, aside from (D/N).”

You bit your lip slyly, “Don’t worry, H. She won’t have that problem in about seven months.”

His heart stopped, and he practically leaped up in joy, pulling you in by the waist and spinning you.

“You could have destroyed me and refused to be with me. You could have never told me she was mine or worse. When I met you, I knew you were going to be in my life forever. Thank you for taking mercy in the stupid pop star who knocked you up,” Harry met your eyes, speaking softly, “You’re my blessing, my strange mercy.”

[sewerratzz]

Through A Glass: an analysis by finch :p

I adore this song so so much, it's absolutely one of my favourites from the whole of Pulp Musicals. Plus, I'm writing a fic for pulp fortnight, and decided to do this to easier organise my ideas for that. Also, my headcanons are probably very entwined in this so.. yeah. sorry. Please enjoy :]

Through a glass, darkly I see myself, partially With pieces left forgotten or unseen Is there a way to wipe the surface clean?

So much of who Samuel is, is his family and loved ones. They mean so much to him, and he longs for connections to people. When Samuel looks in the mirror, he sees himself, but not fully. He's not completely himself, at least not the "him" he wishes he was. Not the brave man, rushing to act. Not one to stand up for himself. He sees an obscured reflection of himself. Something is missing, and seems to him, covered up by pieces of those around him that he's tried to reflect. He wonders if there's a way to see through those pieces, and see himself fully, see the man he wants to be.

Are these my mother's eyes? My father's smile?

This is self explanatory. In his reflection, he can see so much of his parents. His eyes are so similar to his mother's, round and deep and ready to take in everything they can. His smile so much resembles his father's, that old, genuine smile that they haven't seen in so long.

Speak to me, it's been a while

Samuel sees his parents in his reflection, and he wants them to speak to him. He wants them to come back, tell him things will be okay, give him advice on what to do and how to fix his mistakes. Not expect too much of him while still encouraging him to be the best he can be because that's who his parents were and that's what they used to do when he was younger. Samuel wants his family back.

Would you trust what you see When looking through a glass at me?

Samuel wonders if other people look at him and see a person they can count on, or if they see him how he sees himself. Someone just made up of parts of other people.

Through a glass, darkly I see myself, starkly With armour that's been comfortable to wear Underneath, is anybody there?

John sees himself in a suit of armour that he's grown used to. Something he began wearing when he was younger, in his early teens, because of his father. It was uncomfortable at first, but it's grown with him and perfectly protects him now. But, it's also become an insecurity for him, because now he doesn't know how to take it off, and he can't tell who he is without it. He can't even tell if he exists without it.

Are these my father's dreams? His hopes and fears?

John has a complicated relationship with his father. He loves him, though he's also never quite been his father. Even when he was younger, William could have been more considered a mentor, teaching him about the cosmos and how to study them. John learned everything his father knew, used that knowledge in school and in his career, as well using his father's money to help him along. John doesn't quite know where his father ends and where John begins. His armour and the way it makes him feel, furthers this.

Is that what people want to hear? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree When they hold a glass to me

John wonders if people want him to be just like his father. When they look at him, do they just want to see more of the great astronomer William Herschel? Everything he does, every accomplishment feels as though it's an extension of his father, not himself. John lives in the shadow of his father's legacy, and only the satellite has made him feel any different thus far. The satellite will be his [and of course Anna's] legacy, instead of his father's. At least, he hopes.

So many years spent in the atmosphere Neglecting what happens here On the earth, in my brain With the pieces just out of the frame

Both Samuel and John have found a place in the stars and the sky. John in a much more scientific way, studying and discovering new features of the sky. Samuel in a more creative and less grounded way, using his writing as a way to put himself in the stars. They both indulge heavily in this, John becoming an astronomer, and Samuel becoming a writer, and trying to include his fiction in the paper to share how it makes him feel with others. They use it to escape, John to escape how he feels with his father, and Samuel to escape his loneliness and lack of success in making his dreams come true. They use it to escape what makes them unhappy.

I'll build my own path I'll build my way back To more than I thought I could be

John building his own path represents him deciding to not use the one his father had paved, and instead find his own way to legacy.

Samuel building his way back is representative of him wanting to become what he's always wanted to be [a writer]

High enough to finally see things clearly Through a glass, darkly We judge ourselves, harshly

Inside the satellite, sharing their feelings with each other, they both feel like they can reflect better, and more accurately. They can see how they see each other, but they can also see the flaws in how they view themselves. Samuel is not just a reflection of others, he is a loyal man that is inspired by his loved ones. He's not a Frankenstein of others' traits, he is his own person who takes and learns from those close to him. John is not his father, and he doesn't have to be. He's not just an extension of him, he is his own person who, while he did get his start from his father, has made his own discoveries and advances in his field. Looking in the mirror, they have been too harsh on themselves.

The road we take The choice we make Is the view

I have such a long way to go Whatever the distance, we'll travel together.

Samuel still has a long journey to really becoming himself and finding his confidence in himself, and of course in building his relationships and trustworthiness.

John also has the rest of his own journey in proving himself to himself, and he will be at Samuel's side, and they will help each other when they need it.

[kazperthegh0st]

RaTing TMA season 1 episodes

001: Angler Fish, the cigarette and disappearance one. Not very memorable. 5/10

002: Do Not Open, the will power this one man contains is greater than God, i swear. I probably would have opened that coffin tbh. 10/10

003: Across the Street, to be Grahm or Not to be Grahm, that is the question. Eating paper is not really my thing but you do you. 8/10

004: Page Turner, kinda boring to me but it introduces important people. 4/10

005: Thrown Away, it reminds me of that one short FNAF story where the girl finds her real body cut up in garbage bags. I liked this episode. 9/10

006: Squirm, I have no memory of this episode. 2/10

007: The Piper, All i remember is rats, a dead dude in a dumb ditch, and The Great War. It was a good read tho. 4/10

008: Burned Out, There was a Spooky Tree, an apple, and a box ( i think it had a necklace in it??). There is also the religious dude— i think hes also the jesuit dude that killed two people in a later episode but i could be wrong. 5/10

009: A Fathers Love, this one was so sad to me ngl. I have two questions: What happened to the mother (i know she died but theres gotta be more)? and also whats the necklace all about ( i might be crazy but wasn’t it in the box in burned out?)? I do think the dad is somehow innocent, like he was possessed or smth. 10/10

010: Vampire Killer, this was a cool, fun episode and I enjoyed the different approach to Vampires. 9/10

011: Dreamer, We hear some new stuff about what happened to Jon’s predecessor, outside of that its an ok episode. Elias is mentioned. 5/10

012: First Aid, don’t remember this episode at all but i looked at the episode tag on here and Gerry is in it so on principle it gets a 5/10

013: Alone, my mind is so blank about this episode. Jon was nice tho. 2/10

014: Piecemeal, i don’t remember it well but Tumblr tells me it was good. 5/10

015: Lost Johns’ Cave, this reminded me of those tiktok videos about idiots who get stuck in caves. But at the same time this episode was deeply unsettling and sad. 10/10

016: Arachnophobia, proof that spiders do not die no matter what you do. Lazy ass cat ( Major Tom, great name, unintended David Bowie reference ) 8/10

***All previous thoughts were made well after the episodes were read so i could be wrong or forgetful regarding some details.***Future thoughts will be made immediately after, or the same day as reading the episodes.***

017: The Boneturners Tale, more of the weird books. I think there was arson in this episode (?) 5/10

018: The Man Upstairs, This one was absolutely disgusting (in a good way?!?!) it made me want to throw up but at the same time was sooo cool. 8/10

019: Confession and 020: Desecrated Host, putting these two together. Why is there such a strong theme of cannibalism and removal of body parts in this podcast? It was really interesting and well written. 8/10

021: Freefall, not that interesting to me ngl. It wasnt bad tho 5/10

022: Colony, MARTIN!!! A real character! He is a sweet innocent baby who can do no wrong. The episode itself was super unsettling. Who is the woman again tho?

023: Schwartzwald, this was boring, sorry. I know i should have found it more interesting cause its a letter for Jonah Magnus but it just wasn’t appealing to me. 2/10

024: Strange Music, I love the aesthetic of Pipe Organs, always have. (Why is it now in the institute?!?!) the creepy dolls and the circus clowns were cool. I love that the movers came back again, kinda odd but thats expected. 10/10

025: Growing Dark, not too memorable but there is now another missing person. (Yay). 4/10

026: A Distortion, SASHA!!! Another Real Character! Nothing had better happen to Jon or Martin or else. I love them too much. Micheal seems interesting too. 8/10

027: A Sturdy Lock, the first episode I listened to while reading the transcript. Is there or is there not a lock on that door? Bro should invest in a pet tho. Average episode but still good. 7/10

028: Skin Tight, wasn’t Cambridge Military Hospital in another episode? Also who is the archivist? The voice ( im listening and reading ) is different from Jon’s and is not female so not Gertrude. Sarah Baldwin is also a familiar name. Skin peeling. Lovely. (Sarcasm) 10/10

029: Cheating Death, reminds me of 007. I think its neat that the person making the statement had the Institute write it for him. This was a cool story. I like how much of it was a folktale and then it took a turn. 10/10

030: The killing floor, oh the delights of the meat industry. What was up with Tom Haan tho? Why did he kill himself? Why is there a living meat pile?!?! 10/10

Shortly after listening to that episode i made steak. While making steak i listened to the next two.

031: First Hunt, I kept thinking of that “Run Rabbit” song. Im glad humans dont have natural predators. But as an American (unfortunately) as soon as I heard where this was and the guy made note of the whistling… I knew he was screwed. Jon is so dissmissive tho. First episode where i only listened to it. 10/10

I have no idea why the previous story made me decide to cook steak.

032: Hive, this wasn’t much of a real statement but proof that Jane is crazy. It was just “insects do be buzzing” the noises in the background were upsetting. (Listened only while cooking a steak) 10/10

033: Boatswain’s Call, We meet Peter Lukas ( who may or may not be Elias’s Husband? I saw it in a Tiktok ) and I think it was slightly unsettling how they all loaded into the lifeboat. Did they vote the dude out or something? (Read and listened) 8/10

034: Anatomy Class, body snatchers named John/Jane Doe traumatize a professor. I love how they’re all trying to pump their hearts to figure out how they’re supposed to beat. Im a big fan of anatomical sciences. (Read only) 10/10

035: Old Passages, It’s Gerry on the hunt for Leitners books! Another dead person and some secret passages. What happened to Jon. Why did the Delivery Duo Dudes show up with a package for him??? (Read only) 10/10

036: Taken Ill, the episode itself was boring to me but the end was interesting. Why is there a lighter, that i assume has connections to The Web? What does Elias want with it? (Read only) 7/10

037: Burnt Offering, boring. Sorry. Could the wicca and voodoo stuff in the woods be related to Jane? (Read only) 5/10

038: Lost and Found, This was Sad. Important things go missing, more so they cease to exist, until eventually its the Husband. Jons fear of spiders returns. And now for the end of Season 1. (Read only) 10/10

039: Infestation, I did find it funny when Jon called himself an idiot. Martin just needs to let my boy Jon be in (SEVERE) denial. Jon is being watched (the eye!) Tim is so excited that he almost died. Its odd. Oooh its Not Sasha! “Archivist.” “Shit.” (I listened to it and then read the transcript) 9/10

040: Human Remains, what did Not Sasha do with the tape… I do know what happened to Gertrude so Elias acting the way he does in this scene is funny. (I listened to it then read the transcript) 9/10

Really good podcast. I liked it.

— are the secret passages from 038 connected in anyway to the tunnels around the archives?

— what was it that got sasha in the end and is real sasha dead?

— does gerard start to pop up more often? As an actual cast member?

— what was Jane looking for in the written files?

[rain-in-the-clouds]

My new oc Candy-Apple (Cassandra) and some head cannons!

Candy is a succubus.

She worked for millennia in the corruption of humanity.

In the 1800s she defied an order.

Her punishment: the amputation of her wings.

Stuck in hell for over a hundred years doing lowly succubus and imp work.

Occasionally doing work for Ozzie in lust.

In the human year 2019 she, through Ozzie, got an interview with the princess of hell: Charlie.

The job: be the personal assistant and advisor to the king of hell, Lucifer.

With luck she didn't think she had, she got the job.

The job itself was straightforward.

Keep Lucifer on a schedule.

Run the manor.

Accompany him on any and all outings. (The rare and few he had)

Keep an ear to the ground and a watchful eye on the goings on of hell itself.

At first the job was confusing.

Lucifer was a recluse and shut-in.

Something no denison knew.

However is was a common theory around hell

4 years she spent refining her job and duties.

Never questioning or prying into Lucifer’s personal life.

Though, Candy was a live-in advisor.

In those 4 years she only saw Charlie three times, and spoke to her twice.

Little things were found out though.

An obvious one being the ducks.

Another surprise she learned very early on.

His preferences, food, music and the like.

In those 4 years she found, in some way, they could call each other friends.

However she never once dropped formalities.

Never once calling him by name.

Though she would call him Boss, the closest thing to casual.

Though he was the one to come up with her nickname, Candy-Apple.

But most of the time referring to her as Candy.

From that she designed her uniform.

True to her title, she was always by his side (though also slightly behind him) during every outing.

The few things that force him to leave the manor, being meetings with the sins and other high status royalty.

Candy quickly learned that public transit, or being in public at all was wholly unnecessary, when Lucifer just ported them everywhere.

From that she realized why he was never really seen out, let alone photographed.

However, meetings with other advisors, and lower station royals, she went to in his stead.

In that same vein, and to her dismay, (being that she had a dislike, if not hatred, for sinners) she also had to attend meetings with sinners and their overlords.

Before the (2024) extermination, (the events of the show) Candy stayed in the background.

Gently order to by Lucifer.

Staying at the manor, still doing her job, and in essence, his job of “running” hell.

Candy, like the rest of hell, only learned of the battle at the hotel during the news broadcast.

After the hotel was destroyed, and rebuilt, did she finally see Lucifer again.

A little over a month later.

Everything was back up and running.

Everyone busy welcoming new guests (sinners) into the hotel.

While also preparing for war in the background.

Though it was quickly becoming more prevalent.

Candy, again, gently ordered to, began to move a great lot of Lucifer’s belongings over to the hotel. (As well as her own things.)

So yeah idk this just kinda happened and developed over the last few months. Getting more refined as the show went on. Idk if this should lead to a fic, or possibly a comic kinda thing. But I’m enjoying drawing Candy and Luci, so we’ll see where this goes.

[sheepwithspecs]

Echar Agua al Mar: Chapter 1

|| DP Coco (2017) || Rated T ||

Ao3 Link

For Imelda, trying to prevent Héctor from coming back into her life is like throwing water into the sea: pointless. With her family keen to accept the strange musician, and a challenge she can hardly refuse, she soon finds herself caught up in the continuation of a romance decades in the making. [Updates every Saturday]

Author's Note:

A lot of people wanted this one back, so I took the time to sit down and rewrite it properly. I plan on writing a proper ending, but it will be finished as-is (with no added chapters). I don't plan to write anything else for the DP-Coco fandom, so please accept this reworked fic as a celebration of my short, but meaningful time here. As roughly as it ended, I still would not trade those years for the world. I met some of the best people in that fandom, many of which I am still in contact with as friends and mutuals.

I want to take the time to thank each and every reader who has reached out over the years asking about this fic (as well as other DPC fics). The fact that you remember my work fondly means more to me than words can really describe. I wanted to finish this for you, so it's my fervent hope that you enjoy it just as much, if not more, as you enjoyed the original WIP. Please don't stop reaching out, either! In this day and age, it's rare to get reviews on fics anymore. If there's something you enjoyed, no matter how small, I promise that it would make my day to hear it!

The Rivera family was in distress.

Before the last Día de Los Muertos, they had been perfectly content with their lives—if a skeletal soul could indeed be called "living". They had a certain pride in being the best shoemakers in the Land of the Dead, and in death they worked much as they had in life: hard. But now production had slacked off unexpectedly; the twins fulfilled the quota of only one man, Julio made more mistakes in one hour than he had in nearly twenty years, Rosita polished at a tortoise's speed, and even Victoria made simple errors, growing frustrated as she was forced to thread and rethread her needle.

If Mamá Imelda saw them, she might have gloated that her ban on music was well and just. It was music—or the lack of it—that kept the family working at a plodding pace. They'd had a taste of the tunes, a bite of the proverbial apple, and now they were tempted for more. They heard rhythm in the steady ringing of the twins' hammers, in the swish-swish of Victoria's needle, in the scrubbing of Rosita's polishing brush. The Rivera harmony, so easy to recognize, to hum along to… if they weren't in the habit of suppressing those same urges.

But the family matriarch was nowhere to be found downstairs, and could not scold their behavior from the living quarters on the second floor. It was early afternoon, and so Imelda was in her bedroom, hiding… though no one would have dared suggest such a thing within earshot.

"Mamá Imelda can't blame us now," Julio murmured. "Not when she herself sang at the Sunrise Spectacular. In front of everyone, too." It was a conversation they'd repeated over and over again for three months.

"It's true," Oscar added. "She sang again, and so beautifully! But if she heard us…." He was irritated, more with himself than with his older sister. He hated working as though he were a greenhorn cobbler. If he could only finish the day's quota, he could spend the rest of the afternoon tinkering on inventions with his twin. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stop his foot from tapping along in time with his hammer.

"Then let her hear us," Victoria huffed, squinting over the rims of her spectacles. The needle was mere inches from her eye sockets, shaking slightly as she aimed. "Maybe that will be what makes her come downstairs for a change."

"She won't." Felipe looked over his shoulder, shaking his skull at his great-niece. "Not so early in the afternoon. Not before…" he trailed off, gazing pointedly at the clock just above her elegant bun.

"And so? Why not sing?" Victoria lifted her eyes from her work, pushing the spectacles up her skull with one dainty finger. "If there's no danger of her coming down." She sighed as the twins shook their heads in unison. "Oh, if my mamá could see us now. She'd have a good laugh at us all."

"Ah, he's coming!" Rosita announced suddenly, rising from her chair at the window. She let the unfinished shoe in her hand fall to the table, the brush tossed aside as she raced for the door. Everyone paused in their work, following Felipe's eyes towards the clock.

"Right on schedule," Julio said with a smile. "By the way, what will today's excuse be? The corner store?"

"No, we used that one yesterday."

"A walk?"

"We used that one two days ago." They stared at one another with growing concern, each racking their brain for some useful idea. Finally Rosita shook her head, shrugging helplessly at Julio. He blew out a low breath, hands stuck deep into his pockets.

"You say something," Oscar muttered, elbowing his brother in the ribs.

"Why me?" Felipe gulped. "You know I can't think under pressure!"

"Neither can I!"

"I'll say something." Victoria stood as well, brushing bits of thread from her apron. The twins sighed in relief, dropping their hammers simultaneously to the workbench as everyone in the room turned towards the open door in anticipation of their daily visitor. A moment later, there was a self-conscious knock as a man stepped just past the threshold. He was dressed in ragged clothing—espantapájaros, Victoria often muttered under her breath—with his sleeve barely hanging by a thread and shoeless as the day he was born. His gold tooth glinted in the afternoon sunlight as he grinned sheepishly, his hat clutched in nervous hands.

"Hello, Héctor," the Riveras chanted in unison, the start of their new daily routine.

"Hello, everyone." The hat brim began its revolution as Héctor's anxious fingers began to twist. "I've come to… I mean: is Imelda at home today?" The twins shared a sympathetic wince. Rosita's fingers clacked against her cheekbones as she raised her hands to her face. Victoria looked around the room, adjusted her glasses, and scowled.

"This has gone on long enough!" she declared, ignoring the shocked gasps from the rest of the family. "Of course she's here! She's been here every day for as long as you've been coming."

"Ahaha… I, uh… I thought that might be the case." Héctor sighed, looking down at his bare feet. "There's only so many times someone might go to the markets, after all." He looked so pitiable, dashed hopes and guilt and shame, standing in their doorway like a beggar searching for alms. Rosita clucked and guided him to her empty chair, inviting him in properly now that Victoria had broken the routine.

Héctor had given them all of a month before showing up out of the blue, hoping to speak with his wife. Of course, they had all been under strict orders after day one to not let him inside. If he asked, they were supposed to offer some excuse as to why Imelda was not downstairs with the rest of the family. Every afternoon she avoided the workshop like the plague, waiting until he had come and gone before venturing downstairs to complete her portion of the day's work.

This left the rest of the family with no choice but to scramble and find sixty days' worth of excuses to feed him, along with their best what-can-be-done expressions. They would have much rather invited him in, treated him as one of their own, and marched him up to Imelda's room without a word of protest. But the family matriarch's orders overruled any personal attachment to Héctor. At least, it had… until today.

"So." Héctor placed his hat on the table, linking his fingers politely in his lap. "She asked you to cover for her."

"She did," Victoria answered for them, "but this is getting out of hand."

"Even though you knew we were lying, and that Imelda didn't want to see you… you still came every day?" Oscar asked curiously, running a finger over his thin mustache. Héctor managed a one-sided shrug, smiling sadly. "That's pretty stubborn of you."

"Imelda's just as stubborn as you, though," Felipe pointed out, leaning against the workbench. "She won't come downstairs. Not even if you come every day for the next century."

"Victoria?" Julio waved his hand in his daughter's face, a frown twisting his mustache. "Go upstairs and ask Mamá Imelda to come down. For your Papá Héctor's sake."

"No! No, don't bother her. If she doesn't want to see me, then…." Héctor stood quickly, scratching at his thin goatee before offering them a much happier smile. "Tell me, how much would I have to pay for a pair of genuine Rivera boots?"

"What?!" Rosita shook her head in dismay. "What on earth are you talking about? You're family, of course they'd be free—" Oscar and Felipe immediately bent, each studying one of his feet.

"Come now, I'm willing to pay something—"

"No, Héctor." Julio crossed his arms. "Rosita's right. Family doesn't pay for shoes. But, eh…." He glanced warily at Victoria. "What do you think Mamá Imelda will have to say?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. You can leave her to me-e-e—!" Héctor jerked his foot away from Oscar, the appendage flopping loosely as he hopped off-balance. "Hey, watch it! That tickles!"

"But—"

"Listen: Imelda is your mamá. Of course you will do as she says, and don't ask questions. That's the way it should be. But she's my Imelda." His eyes twinkled. "I know how to deal with her. You can leave that to me. I just thought that since I have no plans to stop visiting my family, I might as well have a proper excuse of my own." He leaned in, motioning for them to join him. They huddled around him, close enough that their heads were nearly touching.

"As far as you're concerned," he whispered, "I've given up on seeing Imelda. I've accepted that she doesn't want to see me. And if you do see us together, just… y'know." He smiled again, but this time the expression was far more playful. "She's my wife, isn't she? Act natural."

"Natural?" Oscar parroted, only to get thumped on the skull. "Oh, right! Natural!" They all chuckled, save for Victoria's modest headshake. Héctor nodded and they broke apart.

"I'm sure boots take quite a while to make, yes?" He asked in a much louder tone, directing his voice towards the stairs. "Especially custom boots for your Papá Héctor!"

"You're right!" Julio agreed just as loudly, winking at Rosita. "Custom boots take a very long time!"

"Yes! Weeks!" Rosita giggled.

"Then I'll leave you all," Héctor nearly shouted, taking his hat and waving it with a flourish, "to your work!" As he jammed the hat on his head, there was a soft sound… almost like the rustling of skirts at the head of a grand staircase.

"Come back tomorrow for a proper sizing," Victoria advised, one eye on the stairs. "That way, we won't have to second-guess ourselves once we begin."

"Understood!" He winked once more before turning, offering a little wave over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, everyone."

"Adiós, Héctor!" The Riveras waved him out the door, looking at one another before stifling their laughter. If Héctor was volunteering to take the brunt of Imelda's anger, they were more than willing to sneak around and help them any way they could. After all, her mighty arm was often the only thing that kept them in line, and something about Héctor's goofy charm made him hard to resist. Maybe that was what she had meant, blaming him for Miguel's naughtiness on Día de Los Muertos: his mischief was catching.

"It's all right, Mamá!" Julio called at the foot of the stairs. "He's gone now." There wasn't a full thirty seconds of silence before Imelda was among them, eyeing them all suspiciously with her usual motherly intuition.

"It took longer than normal to make him leave this time…." She trailed off expectantly, waiting for someone to explain. Without batting an eye, Victoria took over.

"We ran out of excuses and had to think of something else." It was a lie by omission, but it rang enough of the truth that she felt confident staring directly into her grandmother's eyes. "He stayed because he wanted to order some boots."

"Boots?" Imelda repeated, her mouth pursing in distaste. "What sort of boots?"

"Custom boots," Rosita explained. "He's tired of walking around in his bare feet."

"And you accepted him?" For the first time, Imelda seemed unhappy about a potential sale. "Why? Now he has an excuse to come inside and—anyway, you should have turned him away," she fussed, running both hands over her immaculate hairstyle and patting it into place nervously.

"It's our fault," Oscar spoke up, hands clasped in false penitence. "Felipe and I couldn't turn him down."

"We haven't made a custom order of boots in so long. We were excited, Imelda."

"We didn't think, and he is—"

"—like a brother to us, after all."

"It's not just anyone," Rosita pointed out gently. "It's Papá Héctor. We can't refuse him."

"Papá Héctor?" Imelda groaned. "Since when is he— Never mind." She crossed her arms, staring out the open door. "I can't even blame you for it. A Rivera has never been able to turn away someone in need of shoes. Even if it's him. And it's only for a few more days."

"Maybe a week," Julio corrected her. "Or more. We have a lot of orders…."

"Ay… heaven help me."

Héctor sat at the edge of Shantytown, kicking his feet off the ledge as he thought. People passed by, shouting greetings to him from the docks, but he was far too lost in his own mind to pay much attention. As was the case lately, his thoughts were focused on one goal: Imelda.

Admittedly he was out of practice, and quite rusty when it came to the art of courtship. In the olden days, back when they were alive, it had been more a scheme of getting her to notice him at all. He had even rejected the help of his best friend, afraid that Ernesto might catch her eye before he could ever hope to. That was good: he hadn't needed him then, and certainly didn't need him now.

Most of his ideas for getting back into her good graces were the same as his former exploits: serenading by moonlight, offering her gifts, winning her over with his irresistible charm… he no longer had the dimples she so admired, by he was still quite handsome, if he said so himself.

The real question was: would she ever indulge him?

Probably not at first. He frowned, staring up at the city lights dancing above him. He'd given her a full month, slipping away after the Sunrise Spectacular and biding his time. Imelda could hold a nasty grudge—he had firsthand knowledge of that. Years of bitterness would not disappear overnight, just because they'd had one song together, one small adventure with their living progeny. Before Miguel had come, he'd given up hope of reaching her at all.

But.

That's for murdering the love of my life!

The thwap of the huarache against bone rang over and over in his head: a sound of hope. He was the love of her life! Even all these months later, he still couldn't quite believe it.

I still have a chance. I'm the love of her life.

It was that mentality that had him coming to the Rivera household day after day, standing awkwardly in the doorway and asking to see her. He could tell that the family was willing, even if the woman was not. There was pity in their expressions as they lied to his face, telling him that he'd just missed her, that she'd gone for a walk, or to get more thread, or to deliver a rush order of shoes.

Imelda was a stubborn woman, that was for sure. But he was a stubborn man. Year after year he'd gone to that dumb bridge, knowing full well that he would not be able to cross. Compared to that, romancing his own estranged wife would be a piece of cake! He planned it out in his head, days of shoemaking and nights of wooing. She'd be begging him to stay within the month. Maybe. Hopefully.

It was a foolproof plan… so long as she didn't call for Pepita.

[swiss-mrs]

Chapter 3: Time of My Life

Life Eternal Series

Eddie Munson x Rockstar!POC

Word Count: 5.6k

All writing is in second POV, but No Use of Y/N.

“You excited, man?” Steve asks while he drives. Eddie scoffs.

“Excited feels like an understatement. I get to go to New York AND visit the best person ever? Yeah, there's no words to describe.” Eddie replies happily.

“Hey!” Dustin pipes in from the backseat. “Best person?” Steve rolls his eyes at Dustin.

“Dustin, Sometimes, when a man loves a woman-”

“Woah!” “Woah!” “Woah!” Dustin and Eddie shout over each other simultaneously. Steve smirks.

“No one said anything about love.” “I don't wanna get that talk from you!” They talk over each other again. Steve scoffs in disbelief.

“You're joking, right? Helen Keller could see what's going on here.” Steve says to Eddie, ignoring Dustin. “You two have been talking on the phone damn near daily for months, and now that rockstar is inviting you on an all expense included, paid trip to visit them at their house in New York.” Eddie rolls his eyes at Steve's correct assumption. “Don't act like you aren't pining over her. Did you forget I was there when you two talked for 4 hours straight at a bar where all of your respective friends were, yet you ignored everyone around you? You can thank me for the help at your wedding.” Steve dismisses. Eddie couldn't ignore the thumping in his chest. Steve wasn't all wrong. He was definitely crushing on you, hard, but he be damned if he admitted that right now. It was too early to call. He was falling too hard too fast. If he were to get rejected…

“Oh, mind your business, Steve. Eddie hit it off with a famous rockstar who sees his talent. This is a great opportunity for him! He gets to see the Big Apple AND write music for a rock album that's bound to be album of the year!” Dustin exclaims, only adding to Eddie's racing heart.

Dustin and Steve continue bickering as they drive up to the Departures curb. Steve throws the car in park and gets out with Eddie, Dustin not too far behind. Steve opens up the trunk, still bickering with the kid. Eddie grabs his suitcase and guitar case from the trunk. “Will you two shut up already!” Eddie yells, grabbing their attention. Dustin's expression changes as he focuses in on Eddie, and he rushes in to engulf Eddie in a hug. It shocks Eddie at first, but he is soon to give in and return the hug. “Don’t forget to bring me back something.” Dustin says. Eddie chuckles and pats his back.

“Will do, little man. Will do.” They pull away from each other, and he and Steve make eye contact.

“I’m not hugging you.” Steve says, holding up a hand and turning his head. Eddie rolls his eyes with an amused scoff.

“Whatever, pretty boy. I wouldn’t want to mess up your hair.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the ride.” Steve softens and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s my job as chauffeur.” He shrugs. Steve gets taken off guard as Eddie gives him a quick side hug, before running off into the airport.

“See ya!” Eddie calls back, waving as he disappears into the building, Dustin waving wildly in return.

Eddie gets through TSA as quickly as possible. Since he was flying out on a Wednesday afternoon, the airport was near empty. As he sits at his gate, awaiting for his plane to board, he pulls out his old walkman. He would sometimes get looks when he pulls out the thing, but since his van only reads tapes, using Wayne’s old walkman was most efficient so he wasn’t buying doubles of every album he listened to.

He digs through his backpack, finally reaching what he was looking for, Cydonia’s debut album, Martian. He smiles at the tape, running his thumb over the cover art. Ever since your concert in Indiana, he has been listening to your two albums religiously. It was almost addicting. He loved the sound of your voice. He loved how your music introduced him to new sounds. Listening to your debut album intrigued him. It was a message for all those who were at the bottom of the food chain. It was a call to let your darkness shine, and he already proudly wore the word ‘Freak’ on his back. It would have definitely been his anthem in his high school days. His music induced trance was slightly broken when he noticed the gate doors open and the attendant started calling out for those to board.

Eddie collected his carry-on, his tattered red and black backpack, and stood to start boarding. He was one of few on the plane. As he made his way down the aisle, everything just became more and more real for him. He was suddenly struck by a hard pounding in his chest. His first time flying anywhere was going to the festival performance with metallica. That time he had Dustin to distract him. This is his first time flying solo, and he was really starting to feel his anxiety peak. He gladly sat in an empty row, halfway down the plane, and took a window seat. He figured sitting by the window would make him feel less suffocated. As soon as he was seated, he turned on the little fan above him and closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat, gripping the arm rests. He started taking big deep breaths and focused on your voice in his ears. He gripped the arm rests until his knuckles were white and squeezed his eyes harder when he felt the plane rattling during take off, but as soon as they were in the air and everything became near weightless, he relaxed a bit. He held the thought of seeing you in his mind to keep him calm. Eventually, he opened his eyes again and dared to look out the window, met with a serene view of the sun dancing along the clouds. He started to smile to himself. ‘I’m on my way, Superstar.’

》》》

As soon as Eddie landed at Newark, he felt like he was able to breathe normally again. He quickly filed off the plane and made his way to baggage claim. As he rode down the escalator, he was met with a sight he didn’t expect. In the middle of the floor was a hooded person with sunglasses on holding up a black poster board with red writing on it. ‘Eddie Munson (aka Rockstar)’ it read, and you were holding it, a smug grin on your face. Eddie smiled widely, deciding the machine was moving a bit too slow for him and began quickly walking down. “Pick up for Eddie Munson?” You said in a dramatically deep voice as he got a little closer. Eddie laughed and took four large steps over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up into the air, spinning around with you in his arms, causing you to shriek in surprise. “My glasses!” you yelled as they fell off your face and to the floor with a clack.

“Hey there, Superstar.” He laughed out, finally setting you down. “I wasn’t expecting to get picked up by the one and only.” He says with a big, happy smile. You scoff with face offense.

“I’ll make sure to send a limo next time.” Eddie shakes his head.

“No, I quite like getting to see you first thing.” He squats down to pick up your dark sunglasses. Instead of handing them back, he slides them onto his own face, grabbing your hand and leading you over to his baggage claim terminal.

“Excuse me, sir. I kind of need those.” He ignores you. “Okay, but it’s your vault if we get mobbed.” You respond, causing him to chuckle. He shrugs.

“It’ll be good practice for the,” pauses to turn around and hold up his hands, wiggling his fingers, “zombie apocalypse.” he finished in a deep, dramatically ‘spooky’ voice. You roll your eyes with an amused expression. He smiles and turns back around to search for his guitar and suitcase. You quickly miss the warmth of his hand as soon as it’s gone. You watch as Eddie waits and scans the circling conveyor belt for his luggage. You stand back not wanting to get in the way of others searching. As you wait with crossed arms, two teenage looking girls are walking passed, one of them lifting their head from the magazine they were both gawking over. She does a double tak, slapping her friend’s arm several times before nodding in our direction. You watch on through the corner of your eye, knowing what’s coming.

“Hi, sorry,” One of the girls with tricolor hair, dyed pink, purple, and blue, looked up to you with starstruck eyes, “You’re the lead singer of Cydonia, right?” You look to the other girl who had glasses, dyed black hair, and a pink, white and blue pin on the strap of the backpack on her shoulder.

“That’s me.” You say with a small smile. They look to each other for a moment, trying and failing to contain their excitement.

“Oh my gosh, we saw you in concert last year when you performed at Terminal 5-”

“You guys were awesome-”

“We love you music-”

“You inspire me so much-”

“You are a queer icon-”

“We love you-” They talk over each other, back to back. You chuckle, holding up a hand to slow them down.

“Thank you for your support. It means a lot.” You smile. They squeal like little piglets.

“Can we get a photo with you?” “Can you sign my CD player?” They say, again talking over one another. You chuckle and nod.

“Sure.” The girl with the dyed hair reaches into her crossbody purse for her disposable camera as the girl with glasses reaches in her large hoodie pocket for her CD player.

“I can take the photo for you.” A voice interrupts, Eddie. The girls look over their shoulder at him, looking at each other with a look, then both nod their heads.

“Yes, please!” They say simultaneously. You look at them suspiciously, wondering what that look was for before they turn to stand on either side of you, readying for the photo. You drape your arms over the smaller girls’ shoulders, and they lean in to hug your middle “Oh my gosh, you smell good.” “I knew it!” they say over each other, causing you to shake your head and chuckle at their antics. Eddie brings the camera up to his face. You can’t help but think how cute it is when he scrunches his face up to peek through the lens. It brings a genuine, soft smile from you.

“Say cheese!”

“Cheeeessseeee.” The two girls repeat, causing your smile to get bigger as you release another small laugh through your nose. Eddie snaps the photo. He lifts his head quickly to raise up two fingers.

“Another one just in case.” They stay holding your middle in a hug, but instead of smiling, you scrunch your nose and hold up rock-and-roll signs with your hands. The two girls do their respective ‘funny faces’, and Eddie snaps the second photo. “Nice.” He lowers the camera and the two girls release you, backing away a little. The one with glasses brings up her silver CD player and a red sharpie to hold in front of you. You grab the sharpie from her and help hold the CD player stable in her hand. You do a quick autograph.

“Can you also sign my magazine?” the tri-colored hair girl asks, holding up a copy of the same magazine you caught Eddie with all those weeks ago. You nod, giving her a ‘no problem’ and signing your name on the cover. They both struggle to hide their excitement.

“Thank you!” They both repeat over and over.

“No problem. Have a great trip or welcome home.” You smile as they give goodbyes and walk away holding onto each other. You look at Eddie. He has a smug look on his face, eyes hidden by your dark sunglasses.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You roll your eyes. “Let’s go.” You turn, and he just smiles, grabbing his things, jogging to meet up with you.

As soon as you both make it outside, Eddie is greeted with a crisp gust of wind through his curls. It’s chilly but sunny out. He follows you across the few lanes to the parking lot. Once in the parking garage, he lifts the sunglasses from his eyes and uses them to push back his bangs. You lead him across a few isles. In the middle of the empty lanes, away from the few cars parked closer to the entrance, sat a shiny, black beauty that is a-

“1967 Ford Mustang Fastback?!” Eddie nearly drops his guitar. You smirk, your back to him as you continue to walk to the backside of the car, unlocking the trunk. You look over to him. Eddie still stalled a few feet away from you.

“You comin’?” You tease. He scoffs, speechless.

“No fucking way this is your car.” He says in disbelief, starting up his walk again, closing in on you by the trunk.

“No, we’re stealing it. I actually pickpocketed those girls earlier.” You quip sarcastically, popping open the trunk.

“Well, in that case, can I drive?.” He quips back, stowing away his luggage into the empty trunk.

“No.” He pouts, and you both round the car and get in on your respective sides. Eddie is equally entranced by the all black interior as he was the exterior, “Can you even drive stick?” He whips to look at you, clearly offended.

“Can I even drive stick?! What do I look like?!” You laugh at his dramatic response. “I drive a ‘78 van for god’s sake.” He turns in his seat and mutters to himself, “‘Can you drive stick?‘ Pfft.” He mocks. You continue to laugh, turning over the ignition. Eddie takes your sunglasses off his head and puts them on the dash.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. I shouldn’t have poked the bear.” As soon as the car starts, the song you were listening to on the way to the airport continues. Eddie’s eyes nearly pop out of his head.

“You listen to Slayer too?! Jesus Christ I’m gonna combust.” He reaches for the grab handle above his window. He looked like he was going to pass out, sinking down into his seat. You laugh.

“You are so dramatic, Eddie Munson.” He pulls himself up, sitting properly.

“I was rejected from drama club for being too good, you know. That’s why I had to start my own cult.” He wiggles his brows.

“I doubt it was for that reason.” You scoff, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yet, I believe it.” You shrug. “Eddie Munson, the theater kid reject.” You say, lifting your hand and gesturing as if reading off a sign. He plays fake hurt, clutching his invisible pearls.

“Never have I.” He says in a posh, feminine accent. You laugh at his forced accent.

“Alright, Queen Elizabeth. Let’s go.” You both buckle up before you switch gears and start pulling out of the parking lot.

》》》

On the drive to your home in Nyack, you ensure to take the ‘long way’, going through the city a little bit. Eddie spent the entire two hour drive looking out the window in awe. The drive was silent between you two, the only noise being your music and the humming of your engine. It was nice. Eddie’s childlike wonder brough the magic back to New York. Not even the bits of traffic you hit could dull the mood.

When you were on the open freeway, leaving the city, you were able to speed up a bit. Eddie made an off-handed comment about how sexy the car sounded, bubbling a laugh out of you. You exited off the freeway early, again, not bothering to take the quickest route as you silently let Eddie sightsee through the car window. When you’re finally pulling into your neighborhood, Eddie speaks up. “Ho-ly shit.” He sighs, gaping through the front windshield. “This is where you live?” He asks breathlessly. You let out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, not too bad, is it?” you ask rhetorically.

“It’s alright.” He fires back with a smirk, playing along. You spare him a quick glance. He goes back to watching the beautiful houses go by. “Not gonna lie. I mean, I didn’t know what I was thinking, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

“What? Were you expecting a 5 story, 200 bedroom luxury castle?” You ask. He scoffs.

“I don’t know, but this is even better.” He looks over to you, “It fits.” he says with a small smile, staring at your smiling profile for a few seconds too long. He turns his focus out the window as you turn into your driveway. “It’s nice, obviously expensive, but cozy.” The barrier separating your driveway from the street was a long row of trees that created a natural gate around the property. You drive in a little, passing through an actual gate, metal and gothic. The house could finally be seen in all its true glory.

The old stone driveway led to a two story, brick house with red accents and black shutters. The house was in the middle of a five acre lot surrounded by a thick, tree fence. The old brick structure stood strong, slightly overtaken by the nature around it, vines climbing up the walls. The lot itself was well-maintained but not artificially manicured. Clearly someone cared for the land, but they ensured not to kill the native vegetation around it for the sake of neatness. It was far from cookiecutter. It was unique and well-loved. It fits you well.

You drive up to the top of the long driveway, parking your prized vehicle in the two car garage next to the house. Though it was an obvious post-construction addition, it was clearly made to replicate the historic home’s aesthetic. “Home sweet home.” you say as you unbuckle your seatbelt, Eddie unbuckling soon after. You open your door and make your way to the trunk of your car. Eddie gets out of the car and looks out the open garage door and takes in the view of the front half of your property. Jesus, this place was amazing. The pop of the trunk lock grabs Eddie’s attention as you open the lid and go to grab his bags.

“Ah ah ah!” he stops you. “I’m a big boy. Let me get it.” You raise your hands in surrender and back up a little. “What kind of man would I be, letting you take my bags.” You shake your head.

“Okay, fine. I get it. I was just trying to be a gentleman.” you let out a soft laugh. Eddie shakes his head as he loads himself up with his backpack, tattered suitcase and solid guitar case.

“Not on my watch, superstar.” he tilts his head and gives you a big grin. You roll your eyes and close the trunk door.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get inside.” You close the garage and lead him to the side door. The side door opens to an enclosed, glass corridor that attaches to the house. You open the door that leads inside, holding it open for Eddie. It leads straight into the kitchen. The kitchen kept the same cohesive aesthetic as the outside of the house, dark, warm, cozy. “I’ll show you to your room, and while you settle in, I can start getting dinner ready.” You smile at him over your shoulder as you make your way around the kitchen island and into the open living area. You then lead him down a hall next to the set of stairs leading the the second floor. There are four doors down this hall. One at the end of the hall leading to the back yard, on to the left, under the stairs, the guest bathroom, you acknowledge. The first door to the right is the guest bedroom, where Eddie will be staying. The bedroom is huge compared to his back at home. It’s at least worth two of his bedroom plus an ensuite. “Here we are.” You say with arms wide open as you walk through the door. You walk further into the room, Eddie standing by the door. You spin and face him with your open arms. “This is you.” You drop your arms to your sides with a smack, before looking over to the bed. “I put on fresh sheets and blankets. Even got you some new pillows. I don’t have guests that often, so I hope everything is okay.” You say a bit shyly and shrug. Eddie walks in to rest his guitar case on the nightstand next to the bed and drops his backpack. He then rolls his suitcase up to the empty space next to the nightstand and rests it against the wall. He steps back and walks around the room in awe. “Well…?”

“This place is amazing.” He sighs out. He chuckles and then focuses his attention on you. He gives you a big smile from across the room before running and diving onto the bed. He bounces a few times from his hard landing then lays on his side, bending one of his legs up and resting his head on one hand. He wiggles his brows at you with the same goofy grin on his face. You shake your head with raised brows and a small laugh. Eddie then plops back, spread out over the king sized bed. He sighs heavily, “This is amazing. I don’t know how to thank you.” Your smile grows, and your eyes find the ground below your feet.

“No need. You’re here to help me, remember? It’s the least I can do.” Eddie pops up to rest on his elbows, but you continue before he protests. “I’ll be out in the kitchen cooking us dinner. Make yourself at home, rockstar.” You turn to walk out the door, “Let me know if you need anything.” you call out over your shoulder, disappearing around the corner. Eddie continues to watch the spot where you once were. He smiles to himself before plopping back down.

“This is the best day ever.” He whispers to himself before cloning his eyes, accidentally dozing off.

》》》

“Eddie?” You call out before rounding the corner to his room. You stop in your tracks when you notice him sprawled out, exactly where you left him. Soft snores echo in the room, causing a subconscious smile to break out on your face. You walk up to the bedside with soft footsteps. “Eddie?” you say softly. He stirs a bit in his sleep. You reach out to shake his shoulder, and he pops up. You jump back, startled. “Eddie.” He whips his head to look at you with wide eyes. You smile and let out a small laugh. “Dang, there goes my surprise attack.” You say sarcastically. He raises a brow.

“Can’t sneak up on me.” He says with a yawn. You let out another small laugh and push him.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. Dinner is ready. I hope you’re hungry! I brought you some house slippers.” You lift up a pair of dark gray slip-on shoes and place them on the floor next to his luggage. “I hope they fit okay. Now, wash up and get changed into some PJs. We’re having a chill night. Sunset looks amazing in the sunroom right now.” You turn to walk out.

“Yes, ma’am!” Eddie calls back as you round the corner. He hops up off the bed and walks over to his suitcase. He lays it out and opens it up, pulling out some black pajama pants and a Blastoff Festival t-shirt he got from the night he met you. Eddie stands and goes into the ensuite to change and wash his hands. He splashes some water on his face to rid himself of any evidence of his nap. You had an entire guest basket of toiletries next to the sink. He smiles at how thoughtful you are. He spots a new pack of black, silk scrunchies and pops one out its packaging, throwing his wild hair into a bun at the crown of his head.

Eddie walks out of the room, down the hall, and rounds the stairs, heading to the kitchen. You could be heard rummaging around and grabbing dishes. He just about enters the kitchen right as you’re exiting. Thankfully, you both catch yourselves before running into each other. “Holy fuck.” You breathe out a little laugh as your heart starts to calm. Eddie looks down at the plates in your hands with wide eyes.

“Holy Shit!” You laugh nervously, not knowing how to take his reaction at first. “You made this!?” His gaze switches to your wide, innocent eyes.

“Yeah?” You laugh out.

“This looks amazing!” He takes a big whiff, “And it smells even better!” A huge smile forms on his face and you give him a proud smile, blushing ever so slightly.

“Thank you.” You reply with your head held high.

“Here, let me help you.” He says and goes to reach for the plates but you move them away.

“No, no. I got these. Grab the drinks?” You say with a small smirk. He drops his hands and bites back a smile. He makes his way around to the two cups and larger glass jug that waited on the kitchen island. You wait for him in the archway as he grabs everything else and starts following you. You lead him to a room at the back of your house, on the opposite side of the stairs than his room. You pass through the door frame that leads to the open space and gently place the two plates on the table. Once again, Eddie pauses for a little after walking into the new room, taking it in.

The walls and ceiling were all panes of glass like a greenhouse. Inside, there are a few plants littered around and a comfy looking couch in the middle with a wooden coffee table just in front of the couch. In the corner of the room was a plush sofa chair that had a small table next to it and a pretty, royal blue, semi-acoustic guitar leaning up against the table. Due to the time of day, the sun was setting perfectly over the trees and field that is your yard. It creates a warm glow in the room. The sight is surreal, ethereal, calm. “This is like my safe space.” You break his trance. “Especially this time of day.” His eyes find you. You’ve taken your seat on the couch and were waiting for him to sit down next to you.

You had a soft smile and were looking up at him with the most warm eyes. The warmth of the sunset made you glow. Eddie nearly dropped everything he was holding at the sight of you, finally taking you in. Half of your hair is tied back with a few shorter pieces falling onto your face,  the rest cascading down your back. The sun brought out the lighter shades in your hair and the richness of your skin. The slightest bit of mascara and eyeliner you had on was now a little smudged, smoking out around your eyes. You had changed from your airport clothes to black and dark gray, plaid pajama pants and a black, pullover hoodie that was about 3 sizes too big. You had taken off your slippers to sit cross legged on the couch, revealing a pair of brightly colored, patterned socks, the best contrast to your outfit. You pat the empty spot next to you. Eddie smiles wide and quickly makes his way over.

He sets down the cups on the coasters you have out and takes it upon himself to pour your drinks. “I hope you don’t mind just sitting and eating. I don’t have a TV in here.” Eddie shakes his head, still holding his smile.

“I don’t mind. We can just talk and eat.” He places the glass container down and smiles over to you, infecting your face with a big smile. You nod in response before breaking eye contact and looking down at the food. You reach down to grab your plate and silverware.

“Bone apple teeth.” You say before digging in, Eddie laughing and doing the same.

You two talked for hours even after you finished eating, well after the sun went down. You went back and forth talking about everything, as you normally would. Eventually, you both started talking about music and the album. It was clear you both had similar tastes in music, but one thing that neither of you weren’t expecting was the understanding you both had about what you wanted to write. Every idea, every concept you went back and forth on was never shot down. You would build up on each idea and create a story. “I am not letting you let that fantasy, Lord of the Rings inspired album slide under the rug.” Eddie said, holding up an accusing, soapy finger. You shake your head and laugh, drying the freshly cleaned dish in your hand.

“I don’t know how, but I promise I’ll make it happen.” Eddie goes back to rinsing off the last dish. “But, you have to keep your half of the bargain and actually release your own music.” You say raising a brow at him. He tilts his head and hands you another dish with a wide grin.

“Anything for you, baby.” He teases. You take the dish, biting back your smile as your cheeks burn. Eddie rinses out the sink and runs his hands under the water a final time before turning the faucet off and drying his hands. Eddie turns to lean his back against the counter, and you put down the final dish as you finish drying it. You look at the clock, and it’s almost midnight. You turn back to him. He still held a cheesy grin on his face.

“We should probably call it a night, hot shot.” You say, leaning on your arm that rests on the edge of the counter. He sighs dramatically and rolls his head.

“So soon?” He pouts. You smile a bit at his childish antics.

“Well, We have a busy day tomorrow. I don’t want you complaining about being tired while we work.” He groans and lifts himself up, leading the way around the island and out the kitchen.

You walk him to his bedroom door. “If you need anything, my room is at the top of the stairs, first door on the left.” You lean against the door frame, resting on your shoulder. Eddie stops from walking any further into the room and turns to face you. He places a hand just above your head on the door frame, leaning against it. He looks down at you with a small smirk.

“Dinner was amazing. Thank you, dollface.” You cross your arms and roll your eyes.

“‘Dollface’? Really?” You look back up to him with a less than impressed expression but biting back a smile. He shrugs, his act not wavering in the slightest.

“Heard Steve say it. I should’ve known it wouldn’t work on you.” His smirk grows into a grin. “But, seriously, thank you. Today has been amazing. I love getting to spend time with you, especially in person. You’ve definitely given me a night to remember.” His honesty makes your heart flutter, releasing your smile from its cage.

“I’m glad. You’re stuck with me for a whole week.” You scrunch your nose. Eddie finds it absolutely precious. You turn to walk away, “See ya in the mornin’!” You say without sparing him another glance. He watches you make it to the top of the stairs before yelling back.

“Goodnight, superstar!” He smiles up to the top of the stairs.

“Goodnight, rockstar!” You shout back before your door clicks closed. Eddie continues to smile up at the stairs for a few seconds before making his way into the room, closing the door behind him. He sighs happily and looks around the moonlit room letting his happiness build. He then jumps, punching the air with a huge smile on his face. He wants to let out a loud yell to release the pent up energy he has, but he restrains himself. He quickly makes his way over to the nightstand and turns on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a soft warm light. He reaches down to his backpack and grabs his tattered notebook and a pen. He jumps onto the bed and situates himself to lay on his stomach. He flips through a few pages of words and doodles to get to a blank page and starts writing furiously.

“Hey, girl, I’m in love with you.”

Life Eternal Taglist (OPEN): @ali-r3n @starmilks @madelynraemunson

Swisslist (General Taglist): @rosecentury @smashingmodels

[autisticempathydaemon]

Alas, I have sent in a very long anon so I apologize ahead of time. But I hope these help with the pairing lol *** What song are you fixated on at the moment? What lyric or verse, and why? Sabrina Carpenter- Espresso. Such a good summer song.

What is your Enneagram type? I think type 6? I don't really understand them that much

Do you love gargantuan Youtube video essays, and if so, which is your favorite and why? Not really? I used to be really into them but I haven't been watching much youtube lately. Attention span go brrr. Someone would have to sit with me for me to be able to concentrate.

Tell me about your childhood imaginary friend. Didn't have one as far as I remember. But I attempted cause I thought it was the normal thing to do.

What is your go-to way to fall asleep? Shutting my eyes and maladaptive daydreaming to sleep.

If you had to change your name, what would it be, and why? (In tandem, if you have changed your name, why did you pick that one?) I quite like my real name. I feel it suits me surprisingly well so I wouldn't change my name. Maybe add a middle name though.

What is your favorite of Redacted’s audios, and why? Oh boy, hm. I think my favorite would have to be Hush at the moment, but I also really enjoy Elliott's videos.

What Redacted boy holds no appeal to you, and why? Like, not the one you hate but the one who you don’t get the hype for. (I won’t judge, I promise.) I think they all have their merits honestly. If he were still present, I would say Marcus cause he always weirded me out a bit, but if I had to pick a current one? I'd say caller dude. I don't understand but I respect game lol

Tell me about that one book/movie/tv show you know all the words to. The Untamed. I watched it so many times it's ridiculous. I also read Manhwas/Manga a lot so there are many of those I know like the back of my hand.

Which Redacted boy are you platonically attracted to? Like- forget dating, which dude do you want to be your best friend? Hmmmm. I think I would love to be friends with David and Asher. They seem like a riot together. I only don't add Milo here because he makes me blush so I'd fold for him too easily.

Do you have a go-to thing you ramble about when you’re tired, and if so, what is it? (For example, my boyfriend knows I’m ready to sleep when I start talking about space.)

PFFFT. I do. Music and stories I want to write but can't find the right medium to get it done. Real-life people know I never speak about my creative stuff but don't know about my online life as far as I know, so it's comical to them to hear how many stories are up in my brain at once.

Tell me your go-to gas station and drink combo.

Pass, I don't drive and rarely go to gas stations. But I'd say if I had to, the places I go often have great slushies/slurpees

Tell me about your favorite playlist at the moment. 

Random on my phone or spotify because I can't be bothered to find actual playlists 😅

What’s your guilty pleasure media, and why?

Romance novels/manhwa/mangas. God I love seeing people love each other, especially if it starts off bumpy. But if it ever happened in real life I'd be so confused and not know what to do lol. Also, I would probably turn as red as an apple if someone found out about it without me telling them.

And whatever else you think tells me about who you are!

I indulge in a lot of creative stuff, but I am also slightly sickly so my patience with myself is less than I would give other people in the same position as me. I'm attempting to remedy that but it's difficult to give grace to yourself sometimes (ˉ▽ˉ；)...

The way you describe yourself as easily flustered and blush-y makes me want to pair you with someone who’ll push those buttons, I’ve got to admit- Vincent, specifically.

I like his flirty, Edward Cullen-esque facade and the dorkier, tenderer interior for you, you know what I mean? Like, he’d flirt and poke fun and smolder as he does, but I think he’d have a good sense of when to stop, when you’ve had too much. I also like him for you as Type Six, the enneagram that desires security, reliability, someone steadfast. Vincent, that blessed simp of a man, is an emotionally dependable, loyal lover on top of being a sap and romantic which works well since you also strike me as a romantic.

Your life together is very fun- as fun as constant, light teasing from Vincent can be. He loves a lot of the same things you do, like manga and danmei. (My Vincent is Chinese, as is William, so he’s especially attached to danmei and historical dramas.) He loves peeking over your shoulders, reading the dialogue in a smooth, smoldering voice and then kissing your cheeks when he makes them glow. He’s a little stinker that way, but Vincent definitely knows to be more genuine and sincere when you share your creative work with him. He’s incredibly supportive, buying you whatever tools and/or instruments you might need until you find the medium you like best.

Song:

The hungry heart, the roving eye/ Have come to rest, do not apply/ The frantic chase, the crazy ride/ The thrill has gone, I step aside/ And I'd believe in anything were it not for you/ Showing me by just existing only this is true/ I love you, I love you without question, I love you

As an 80’s kid, Elton John (and the Road to El Dorado soundtrack as well) feel like a good pick for him, you know? Very classic, timely, nostalgic. I like it for y’all specifically because of the vibes, because it reminds me of this lover that lived this crazy existence, lived hard and fast without knowing what it was all for, until they met the person who it was all for, until Vincent met you.

Runner-ups:

In that same vein of thought, Gavin is a strong, cute contender though I don’t think he would have quite as much of a grasp on your comfort levels and moods like Vincent would. In the opposite vein, the other arm if you will, I like Morgan for you. He’d be a good match for a Type Six, and his vibes just suit you; it’s hard to explain why.

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[harrisonarchive]

Screenshot from the “This Song” music video.

“Dark Horse will be run pretty tightly. I don’t want to be a Kinney or an RCA or anything like that — I won’t have thousands of artists. In one way it’s similar to the idea behind Apple, in that most artists we’ve got at the moment have come into my life without me looking for them. That’s the funny thing. The friendship thing comes into it quite strongly for me — and it works both ways round. For instance, Jim Keltner didn’t want to tell me about his band because he didn’t like the idea of using his friendship to get his band a gig, so I got to sign Keltner’s band from meeting the piano player, which is slightly crazy when you consider the friendship between Keltner and me and the fact that all those albums ago I was putting ‘Jim Keltner fan club‘ on my album sleeves. And he’s hesitant about coming to see me for a gig!” - George Harrison, Melody Maker, September 6, 1975

“He loved to make you happy, to see your expression when he showed you stuff that meant something to him, like walking in the garden and showing you a plant of which he knew the Latin name. Even in the garden, he was such an artist. It was so pretty, and he liked to share these things. He was so easy to be around, and he had this mischievous glint in his eye yet never harmful. Such a sense of humor. Once when Ringo, George and I were sitting in his garden, George said, ‘Let’s all grow old together and live in a great big house.’ I felt that’s what would happen. To wake up at Friar Park to a cup of tea and a slice of lemon cake, to play with George, was magic.” - Jim Keltner, Mojo, November 2014

“It [the Concert for George] was a very powerful experience for all of us who were involved, because we all loved George so much. George was the best kind of friend you could have in this world. He was a guy who loved being with his friends, and he loved turning his friends on to different things. I learned so much from George, he was like the big brother who’s successful and goes into the world first, then takes his family under his wing and shows them all the things he’s seen. He taught me so many things, he was a wonderful teacher, and one of the most beautiful human beings. He just had the softest, gentlest ways about him. He could be angry, and talk about something in anger, and still seem to be so amazingly calm about it. There was a great calmness about him. George spoke low and slow, never loud and abusive, which from everything I’ve read is the best way to communicate. And that’s the way George was, he was the epitome of that. And he was one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met. That’s what was so heartbreaking that he had to get out of here so soon, because I really looked forward to growing old with George. But that’s not the way the world works.” - Jim Keltner, The Dawn of Indian Music in the West (2006) (x)

[calmasyoghurt]

The joker out pride project.

This frog is important for today's chapter. Also on ao3.

June 23rd, prompt 13. Cottage core lesbians.

It’s starting to become rare for them to have this many free days in a row. They have a full five days without concerts that are going to be spent resting. But it’s good to not have many days off too, that's all they’ve ever wanted. Kris remembers the first time they met as Joker Out. Bojan had been talking about how they were going to be the biggest band in Slovenian history and how they were going to go on world tours. Later, Jan had told Kris that they would be extremely lucky if they got to tour in the balkans.

But now, they’re on a good way to fulfill Bojan’s dream. A European tour is coming up, they even have the most streamed song in thev Slovene language. They are definitely on the way up. But Kris isn’t going to think to much about that now. He’s going to think about resting. He’s also going to think about how good Bojan looks in the morning. The guy hasn’t even put in any effort. He’s just sitting there at the kitchen table, wearing only boxers, and is scrolling through his phone. He still looks really good.

“They’re calling you a lesbian icon on twitter again” Bojan says out of nowhere, sounding a bit amused. It does feel a bit weird being called that by fans. But it’s fine. They don’t know about the trans thing. “We would have made a great lesbian couple” Bojan continues.

“Oh, is that so? Would it be different from our gay relationship?” Kris asks.

“Yes, of course it would. Most obvious difference would be me having a vagina and you still having boobs. And we would probably live a different lifestyle. Maybe we would be cottage core”.

“Cottage core? What’s that?”

“It’s when you live in a cottage in the forrest and you have a little garden with tomatoes and cucumbers and stuff. We would also have chickens and a cat”.

“That sounds nice. Is there anything else we would have?” Kris asks as he sits down opposite Bojan.

“Yes. We would have apple trees and grow strawberries. I would probably have an obsession with frogs and you would have one for those red and white mushrooms”. This makes Kris chuckle a little.

“Why those obsessions, can’t I have one for music instead?” he asks.

“No you can’t, music isn’t cottage core! Frogs and mushrooms are tough, and since you’re dutch you get the ‘shrooms obsession” Bojan explains. This makes Kris laugh even more, but he decides not to argue the matter. Instead he changes the subject.

“Okay, well. How do we get meat, do we have to kill the chickens?”.

“Only when they’re old. For other meat, and for the things we can’t grow, we can go on our bikes to a nearby farm or organic market. We also take our bikes to a nearby lake where we swim naked. Swimsuits aren’t cottage core either I think” Bojan answers.

“It sounds really nice. Maybe it’ll be our backup plan if no one comes to our concerts”. Kris isn’t completely serious, but it sound like being this cottage core thing isn’t too bad. There’s only one problem with it. “We could live like that, as long as you’re not making me de-transition. I would hate that”.

"I know you would. I would never make you do that" Bojan answers.

When Kris comes back to Bojan's apartment after visiting his parents a couple of days later, the singer isn't home. On the living room table, Kris finds a note and a package. The note reads 'I'm out getting us dinner. In the package is a gift for my cottage core lesbian boyfriend. Love you'. Kris smiles at the note and the opens the package. Inside is a frog plushie wearing a red and white mushroom as a hat. It might be one of the best gifts Kris has ever gotten, and it is definitely coming with him on the tour.

[georgieluz]

fuck professionalism and neutrality, i wanna hear alllllllll of your opinions!

okay, you've convinced me!

no, that didn't take much, bc i am, in fact, not professional or neutral at all! i am loud and annoying, so here we go!

musically, soar is my favourite. it just hits all the right spots for me and builds flawlessly. i just can't get enough of it and it really was a 'fall-in-love-at-first-listen' for me. i've had it on loop since the day it was released and there isn't a single section of the piece that i don't absolutely adore. i think it takes care of all its elements so well and transitions between sections beautifully. just truly 11/10, like i can't express how hard this score goes. blake neely truly outdid himself on this one. i have to mention how much i love the rest of the score for the show too, not just the main theme. i know that's not the topic of the poll, but i think he did a fantastic job and some of the scoring for the flight scenes genuinely raised my heart rate up high enough that my apple watch had to send me three warnings whilst i watched episode 5. but yeah, just a perfect score imo! and if i were being completely honest, in a very unbiased way, my outright favourite.

i do have a nostalgia bias for the band of brothers theme though, and i do think it's absolutely gorgeous and has a delicacy to it that the others don't. it gently prises open your rib cage and wraps its hand tenderly around your heart, squeezing just enough for a single tear drop to roll down your cheek. there's something inexplicably sad about it, but because of that tiny silver lining of hope that runs through every note as well, you can't quite pinpoint why you're sad. it's like you've had your memories erased, but you know you lost something more than just that, that something overwhelmingly sad happened to you, but you just don't know what. it builds so gently as well, and then finally, it soars just for a second right at the end, before landing us back down on the ground again ever so lightly.

so, those two are generally my two favourites, i would say, but as someone in the notes called out, i will admit that had i listened to both of them fresh for the first time today, i would feel more drawn to soar, because it's the kind of piece i really gravitate toward. whilst band of brothers is a show that i've held pretty dearly in my heart for about a decade now, so it has an element of familiarity, that comes from loving something for so long, helping it out.

someone else in the notes of the poll made a great point about gen kill's use of music (or lack of it) being a character in itself, and i thoroughly agree with them and think gen kill's handling of sound was spot on. it's whole thing is next-level-gritty-realism and it wouldn't have been as impactful, or successful, if they'd done it any other way when it came to sound design.

plus, ray providing the soundtrack is just top television!

honor is somber but also light in a way, so it doesn't overpower you too much, i prefer the beginning and middle sections, as the end builds into a more standard patriotic sounding piece (still beautiful but i find myself enjoying the earlier section much, much more). but yeah, it's still a favourite to listen to, i just don't tend to feel as drawn towards it as much as the other two.

i'll stop rambling now but i could go on all day about how much i love soar like i can't seem to shut up about it?

there's no right answer tbf like all these scores are great but soar kind of is the right answer really, for me at least.

– ask is in reference to this poll

[vyglitchcraft]

can i request og soap and roach x ftm reader fic ? if you dont do poly, either one is good =] i just wanna take care of them so bad, cuddle up to them, be their civilian house husband!! wanna smooch them when they come home on deployment, and talk about retirement with them. all the cutesy domestic stuff <33

Sure, let's do two separate short fics in one post instead

Welcome Home, Dear!

Chapter 1: John "Soap" Mactavish x civvy FTM!Reader

Chapter 2: Gary "Roach" Sanderson x civvy FTM!Reader

Content: fluff, SFW, brief mentions of funerals and death in Roach's part, yeah literally that's it. Talking about your future with Roach and taking care of Soap! Former 141 member!reader for Soap

Chapter 1

Soap

*chop* *chop* *chop*

You push the knife down one more time, cutting the fruits into bits before it's ready to cook. Music was playing in the background from a music station you randomly picked. You didn't focus on it at all, it was simply background music to you. A TV channel was on too, the war had ended a couple of weeks ago or at least that's when it was known to the public. You remembered in the newspaper, in the page where they showed the names who died in the war, his name was there but you didn't cry or anything, he always kept you up to speed, you were and forever will be part of 141 even if you've retired to be a househusband. He wasn't dead, almost died? Sure but not fully six feet under. He was wounded horribly and considering their last base was shot out by Makarov's men, it's best to stay hidden until they're sure every one of those bitches are rotting in hell.

And that brings you to today, it wasn't directly mentioned but "few corrections have been made" was stated on the new list, mostly ones who were MIA being found and John's name was discreetly taken out of the dead man's list.

You were cooking some apple pie, it was getting cold in the UK, not like it's always cold here. But baking was one of the ways you could warm up. Great thing about having a husband in war? You don't have to worry about someone else finishing your food. Mixing the chopped up apples into a pot with brown sugar and cinnamon to let them caramelize, you suddenly hear a knock on the door. You quickly unlocked it and yelled for the visitor to come inside, you can't take your eyes away from the cooking after all.

All of the sudden, two large yet familiar hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. John pressed his forehead to your head, resting and leaning against you. You could feel how tired he was. "Oi, you shouldn't just surprise me like that! I could've clocked you ya know?" You leaned back, your shoulders to his chest. "Aye, i would like to see you try" a soft yet tired laugh coming from John.

You sighed, filling the pie crust up and quickly putting it in the oven all while handling the weight of your husband leaning against you. "John...johnny...you can't sleep like this you know? Why don't you take a bath first? I already prepared it for myself but i can always take a bath later" humming something under your breath, you were strong enough to carry John via piggyback ride and carry him into the bathroom. "Ya know, you don't have to help me with everything..." He moved your hand away as soon as you reached for his gear to help him get out of it "nonsense! You're tired, i haven't seen you for...almost a year, just let me take care of it okay?" Knowing how stubborn you can be, he gave up with a soft sigh, letting you take his gear off and cleaning it up. Taking out all the random brass casings, pens, scraps, shrapnel and even stitching it up before throwing it into the washing machine with all of his other clothes.

Seeing him melt into the tub made your heart warm up, he looked so calm and in peace. You dipped your hand into the water and used it to wipe the grime off his face. "Oh fuck, your hair is all oily...and...Shit, that looks horrible, i'll bandage it up after you bathe...ugh that bruise too and what happened here? It's healed but...Jesus Christ what happened?" You were staring at his newly acquired scars and wounds that you didn't remember him having before.

Soap noticed how concerned you are and softly held your hand "i promise, i'm fine, just another flesh wound right? You survived a hail of bullets and you're fine, i'm not as resilient as you but i can take a couple of hits before dropping"

"Oh shut it, you're way more resilient" a playful punch to his shoulder and a kiss on the forehead from him was all that you need to lighten up the mood.

Squeezing some shampoo on your hand, you ran it through his mohawk "i still can't believe it, they let you get away with this haircut" rubbing the shampoo into his scalp, he leaned into your soft and gentle touches. The water ran black from all the dirt he managed to soak up from the battlefield. Finishing up, you hand him a towel and fetch your med kit from under the sink. Letting John dry off, you soaked some cotton with iodine, it soaked through the cotton pad and stained your fingers but that's fine for you, you were in a rush after all, don't want your husband to get all infected. Pressing the iodine soaked cotton onto his wounds and soon after you stitch him up. As expected, no reaction came from him, he looks relaxed rather than tense like you when Soap had to stitch you up after your chopper got shot down. You were cowering from the needle and here Johnny seems to enjoy this, it feels therapeutic to him.

After finishing up his stitches and Soap getting dressed, you held his hand and guided him into the dining room, serving him some food "i know you're baking a pie, ya can't hide it away from me ya know?" you hushed him and pouted "i'm making sure it lasts longer than 10 minutes, you never leave a slice for me" Soap laughed and pets your head "what can i say? Your cooking is the best, better than any MRE that I've tasted" you scoffed and rolled your eyes "oh please, anything is better than MREs, a can of paint tastes better than MREs"

He only chuckled and started to eat, you already ate before he went home so you only watched. You're still confused how he eats so damn fast, at this point he's just trying to get to the desert as fast as possible. "Fuckin...hoover, fine i'll bring the pie but you better not finish all of it!"

"Fine i'll finish half"

"That's still too much!"

He helped you get the pie out of the oven and you started to cut it into slices. You always wanted to have this life and now you have it, you didn't know what you did to get a life this perfect but you're not complaining. Just making sure to make the most out of the little amount of time you got before Soap gets sent into another mission

Chapter 2

Roach

(Using his MW19 design because i don't wanna use the same pic over and over again...)

You were waiting patiently on the couch, the TV acting as a white noise generator. Your boyfriend should be home by six but it's been an hour and he still isn't home. Maybe he's dead, Ghost told you that the mission with Shepherd didn't really end well but you don't know what he means by that.

You heard a knock suddenly and the door quickly getting unlocked. You were laying down on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, not paying attention to the noise coming from the door. You were pissed. Pissed at your boyfriend. For all you know, he could be dead. And what if he died? You could just move on right? It's not like you've been with this man for three years straight.

That's when you suddenly saw Gary, leaning against the couch, softly looking at you. He was covered in bandages, some part of his body was burnt but you were just glad he was alive. You quickly shot up and sat up, your palm against his masked face. "Bug...you're alive..." He smiled and nodded. "I. Love. You" he signed. You nodded as well "yeah i...i love you too"

He hopped over the back of the couch and sat down next to you. Without a thought, you hugged him. "Did you think of me when you were deployed?"

"Every damn moment...i thought about coming home to you" he replied.

You kissed him on the lips, you didn't care that he was still masked and in full gear, you didn't care that you could taste blood and dirt on him, he was here and that was all you needed.

"I thought about you as well...i thought about our future..."

He tilted his head, curious.

"Retirement..." You continued. Gary laughed when he heard that. It was so sweet and a stark difference compared to the absolute hell that he just experienced. Pressing your face into his chest, he ran his fingers through his lover's hair. You could feel his breathing, he was relaxed, soft breaths as his heart rate slowed down knowing he was finally safe at his home with you in his arms.

"Go on, continue, tell me everything"

"I think...we should live somewhere quiet, you always hated the city. You are always overstimulated when you're surrounded by so many people...let's hide away...together...get away from war and fighting. Let's go somewhere only we know"

He leaned back sighing, thinking about the things you just said. It would be amazing, so so amazing. The thought of spending his final days with you and you alone is nothing but heaven to him. He would stop worrying about all of this SAS bullshit with Makarov and Shepherd, just you and him.

"Will we have kids?"

"Hmm...yeah...i could imagine us having a family...one girl one boy...the girl is named Nina and the boy named Jackson"

You two laughed at the thought. Imagining Roach as a father was so...odd but adorable. Your children would have Simon, Johnny, and Price as uncles and imagining THEM hanging around children was hilarious. The things they'll do. Oh to see Simon trying to be all soft and family friendly would be amazing.

"Our wedding, what will it look like?" You asked Gary, holding his hand softly as you looked at the engagement ring that he gave to you before he was deployed.

"At the beach would be good, i want to watch the sunset with you. Decor, flowers, everything else is up to you, just having you by my side forever is enough for me. We can even skip the ceremony. I don't mind" you looked up at him, watching him sign his ideas out. "What do you think i should wear?"

Gary hummed, thinking about it "how about a nice suit...or a dress, your choice...or maybe i can wear the dress?" You saw his idea and laughed "we should make your team into the bridesmaids, imagine Price in a dress" you added and Gary bursts out laughing. "Ghost in a white dress, still wearing his mask and sunglasses"

"OH GOD don't put that image into my head...you're so...precious you...little bug"

You two slowly calmed down. "But anyway...i already have my vows ready...and i think we should stop thinking about our future, let's focus on the present, what do you want for dinner? Or what do you wanna do in general?"

"Let me have you in my arms for another minute, i missed you, you know? I don't think i can handle being deployed again if it means i'll spend another minute without you being near me"

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 6-Atsushi/Fyodor w/ kinks restraints and blinfods(also vampire au)

Notes: rarepare, yes, i know. Also I'm literally obsessed with Fyodor's dead apple outfit. Like did they all go to the mall to try on matching suites?? Where they all like, ‘bro, those jackets are too long.’ or, ‘Fyodor you should wear two fancy coats over your normal clothes,’ or ‘Dazai that looks bad on you try this one.’? I'm literally obsessed you don't understand 

It was freezing in the mountains. A bitter cold chill seeped into his bones and froze him from the inside out, even as the tiger did its best to fight the frostbite away. Atsushi pulled his fur lined cloak closer around his body and trudged on through the snowstorm. The wind abused his face raw, and as quickly as the pain hit it receded, healed by the tiger inside of him. For once in his life Atsushi truly thanked the tiger. For with its strength he was this year's trader, a great honor in his village, as well as one of the members strong enough to make the trek up the mountains and across the snow tundra below them to the neighboring town, to trade. 

The snowy mountain ranges blocking Atsushi’s small village from the neighboring village were truly a blessing sometimes. Legend had it that the mountains had risen from the ground after the bloody battle that split Yokohama City, the capital of Yokohama island in half, forever separating the warring factions. The Northern village, run primarily by the Mafia Guild, and the Southern Village, Atsushi’s home, run by the Armed Detective Guild. The villages never interacted, the inhabitants far too volatile or just plain violent to have calm relations, except for one day out of the year, when one person from each village would cross the snowy mountains and trade with the other village. There was an unspoken truce these days, ‘you kill our resident and we kill yours’, and of course, as the least volatile of the Armed Detective Guild, Atsushi was saddled with the honor of making his way across the forever snowing mountains. 

(Last year's trader, Atsushi’s mentor Dazai almost incited all out war between the two villages, and had subsequently been banned from ever doing it again. Since then the traders have been chosen with greater care, and the entire job holds a strange reverence about it.) Atsushi didn't mind the job, not really. It was interesting to visit the other village, and most of the Mafia Guild were pleasant, if a little strange. The bloody war was almost two decades ago, and only the oldest Guild members could even remember a time when the villages were one. And so, it was a unique opportunity to meet people he wouldn't usually see, and maybe get some delicacies for the long months to come. The problem, this year, was the snow, and the strange things that had been happening in the mountains lately. 

It always snowed in the mountains, no matter the season. The snow piled higher and higher until it fell, rolling down the slopes in big balls and melting at the bottom, creating the lakes that littered the island. But it was usually a peaceful kind of snow. No wind ever disturbed the peaceful atmosphere. At least, that was how it had been. Now, fearsome winds battered the snowflakes against Atsushi’s face, rubbing his cheeks red raw. The trees, formerly covered in fluffy white, shrieked with the wind, their bare dead blanches scratching his face and hands. The mountain was as barren of life as ever, but ever so often Atsushi had the strange sensation that someone was watching him.

The other change, and the most noticeable was the large gothic castle that had materialized in the mountains, right at the top. Its large arches and dark marble walls were visible even from the ground. It appeared dead of life in the daytime, but as soon as evening hit, lights poured out from the large windows, and occasionally music could be heard. None of the Guild Members had ever seen anyone leave or enter the place, and yet it didn't worry them at all.

“This is Yokohama island, strange things are commonplace.” Was all Kunikida, the Guilds vice President had told him when he asked about it.

Atsushi was kind of worried though. Castles did not just pop out of the ground for no reason, and as he was the one trekking across the mountains this year, he was a little worried. He hoped to steer clear of the place and make it across the snow without any major problems.

As if god had heard his problems, and then proceeded to laugh in his face, the snow began pelting him faster and faster, the trees bare arms seemed to reach for him, to scratch his arms and pull at his fur lined cloak, pulling it from his shoulders with a yank. Atsushi watched in disappointment as it flew away, the black velvet outside disappearing in the snow storm. He almost felt like crying. That cloak had been a gift from his mentor Dazai when he had first joined the guild, and was one of his most treasured possessions. He was left in only his button down shirt and vest, warm but still thin black pants and snow boots. Without the coat, Atsushi knew he could not make it across the mountain without freezing to death, and so, with a resigned sigh he made his way towards the winking lights of the gothic castle in the distance. 

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The castle was huge up close, golden light spilled out of the large windows, the black glass spires spearing the sky. It was beautiful, and at the same time cold, not unlike the queen of winter herself. Hesitantly, Atsushi raised his hand and knocked. The sound echoed off the walls and then faded into the snowstorm, whirling away with the wind. The large black marble arched doorway is clearly decorative, and a much smaller door opens slowly with a creak.

The man who steps out is a strange man, about a head taller than Atsushi, and very pale. He's wrapped up in a white outfit, a fuzzy white hat over his dark, purple black hair. He seems to be wearing two coats, a long one on the inside with a golden design on the bottom, and a shorter overcoat, with a fur lining. He looks very cozy, but he still shivers slightly, pale cheeks painted with a slight bit of pink. His dark eyes scan Atsushi questioningly, and Atsushi shivers. The man is so pale he looks almost sickly. His eyes are underlined with bags that give him an alluring, mysterious vibe.

“What can I help you with?” The man's voice is slightly accented, something Atsushi has never heard on the island. The whole man has a foreign air about him, from his fuzzy hat to his smooth accent. It's not weird, in fact Atsushi feels slightly mesmerized, as he replies. 

“Um, I was wondering if I could stay the night. I can't make it across the mountain tonight.” Atsushi draws his arms around himself, trying to keep himself warm. The man stares at him for a moment longer. “Where are you coming from, little one?” He says. His accent is so foreign, Atsushi just can't place it.

“Oh, I'm coming from the village down the mountains.” Atsushi says quickly. “I'm heading over to the other village to trade for this year.” The man nods. “I see.” He stands back, opening the door wider and allowing Atsushi to enter. “You are welcome to stay the night.” Atsushi thanks him gratefully as he steps into the warmth of the building, the door closing with a resounding slam behind him. 

The inside of the castle is as grand as the outside. The walls are a dark purple, with white and silver accents. White candlelight floods the long hallway and Atsushi can't help staring around in awe as the man leads him down the hallway and into a warm and cozy living room. The ceilings are high, so high that Atsushi can barely make them out, and shadows dance happily in the corners where the light doesn't reach. The whole building has a lonely feel about it, like a beautiful princess stuck in her solitary tower, looking desperately for some company. 

The man chuckles, as he slowly sheds a layer as the fireplace roared with white hot flames. “It's beautiful, isn't it?” His thin pale fingers undo the claspes of his first jacket, draping it gracefully over a large armchair. Atsushi nods. “Oh yes, I've never seen such a large castle in my life.” He turns to the man. “Thank you so much for letting me stay Mr…” 

“Fyodor, little one.” 

“Mr Fyodor. I don't think I would have been able to make it across the mountain tonight. It was really kind of you to let me stay.” Atsushi fidgets with his hands nervously as Fyodor looks at him, blinking his eyes slowly. “Yes, as you can see I have plenty of space.” Fyodor says, smiling a small little smile. “Now Atsushi, would you like something to eat?” Atsushi nods happily, and honestly he's too hungry to even notice that Fydor said his name. 

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The dining room is huge, the floors carpeted in a silver and purple rug, a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, spilling silver candlelight all over the room. The table was long, and one side was set for two, completely covered in different dishes Atsushi had never seen before. It all smelled delicious, and Atsushi’s mouth watered as he stared at the spread of dishes. Fyodor chuckled next to him, his gloved hands leading Atsushi to a seat and pulling it out for him. 

“You're hungry, enjoy.” The man took a seat across from him, and Atsushi dug in. The first thing he reached for was a meat skewer, the meat dripping and tender and he tore into it. He let out a little groan of happiness. It’s delicious, the flavors melting into his mouth delightfully. The dishes are things he’s never seen before but he’s so curious to try them all. Fyodor sits across from him, sipping delicately on what looks like wine, not touching the food. 

“Are you not hungry?” Atsushi says, teeth sinking into a flaky pastry filled with meat and potatoes. “I'll have my dinner later, little one.” Fyodor chuckles. “Now tell me, why are you venturing out on a night such as this one? It's far too dangerous for a pretty boy like you to be out in the snow.” Atsushi flushes at the compliment, sipping at some red soup that warms his insides, whipping the residue with the silk napkins he was given. “Well, every year someone has to travel across the mountains to trade with the other village.” He takes another few bites, this time of the meat skewers again. “It's usually pretty easy, the weather was especially bad this time.” 

“I see, and why are you the one trekking across these dangerous mountains?” Fyodor takes another sip of his dark red wine, swirling delicately in the crystal stem glass. Atsushi leans back, patting his belly with a small groan. “Well, last year they sent another guy. My mentor Dazai.” Fyodor’s small smile falls, his face unreadable. 

“Dazai, you say?” he says, his voice blank. 

“Yeah, Dazai.” Atsushi frowns. “Do you know him?” 

The silence that descends for a moment is excruciating. Atsushi begins twisting his hands again and again, resisting the urge to backpedal and apologize. Finally, Fyodor smiles again. “No, the name just sounded familiar.” He stands, and Atsushi jumps to his feet, in a hurry to please. Fyodor has that small little smile curving his lips again, as he leads Atsushi out of the dining room, and up a large winding staircase. 

The castle is huge. Their footsteps echo off the walls, before Fyodor leads him into a carpeted section of the house. Atsushi pasess door after door, corridor after corridor before Fyodor finally stops outside of a small door, with a silver door handle. The knocker is silver two, and made in the shape of a roaring tiger. The tiger almost looks alive, and its brilliant yellow eyes sparkle, almost seeming to follow his every move. Fyodor coughs, dragging Atsushi’s eyes away from the sparkling yellow eyes. He hands him a small pile of folded clothes with a smirk. Atsushi thanks him gratefully, but he simply chuckles and waves it off.

“It is no problem at all. But Atsushi, I need you to promise me something.” Fyodor says, gripping Atsushi’s shoulders and meeting his eyes. Atsushi has to look up at him, and he feels his face heat up for some reason, his heart pounding slightly in his chest. Fyodor continues, voice serious. “You must not come downstairs after nine o’clock. No matter what noises you hear.” It's a strange request, to be sure. But it's Fyodor’s house, and this whole situation is strange. Atsushi ignores his blushing cheeks and nods. “I promise.” 

Fyodor simply looks at him for a moment. His dark eyes scan Atsushi’s face and Atsushi tries vainly to keep the blushing in control. The man is close to him, and Atsushi can take in every feature on his face. He’s pale, so so pale, with only a slight amount of pink on those cheeks. Dark circles highlight his dark eyes, effectively giving him a sickly appearance. It's strange how that face makes Atsushi’s body heat up. ‘I want him to come closer.’ Atsushi slaps the stray traitorous thought away. 

He feels for a moment that the taller man will lean close, and maybe press those pale lips against Atsushi’s own. But finally, he steps away, and with a wave he turns the corner, leaving Atsushi alone in the carpeted hallway, a pile of clothes clutched in his hands. He shakes himself out of his stupor and twists the door handle, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. 

The clothes Fyodor gave him are simple, just a thin cotton button down and pants. The fabric is soft however, and strangely warm. Atsushi takes care to fold his clothes and place them on the small table by the fireplace. He should ask Fyodor for a coat tomorrow morning, before he leaves. The room is large, and very luxurious, with a white carpet covering the entire floor. The bed is large as well, and covered with a purple covering that shines strangely in the light. It even has an attached bath that Atsushi used happily. He now sits, warm and comfortable on the side of his bed, just letting the day wash over.

What a strange man the owner of the castle was. Quiet and handsome, and dressed completely in white. He was a nice man too, feeding Atsushi delicious food and letting him stay the night. His instructions were a little odd though. ‘Not to go downstairs, no matter what.’ But whatever, Atsushi had a nice place to sleep and a full tummy, he was very happy indeed. 

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

He’s almost asleep when he hears it. Piercing the silence of the darkness, the faint strains of a waltz. How strange. But Atsushi remembers the words from earlier, and does his best to tune it out and go to sleep. But for the strangest reason, he can't. The music gets louder, filled with laughter and joy and the tapping of heels and Atsushi can't resist. He steps down the carpeted hallway, following the strains of a waltz. ‘I want to go downstairs.’ he thinks, almost involuntarily. ‘I need to go downstairs.’

The music leads him on, begging him to continue, pleading him to follow, teasing him with delight. It leads him through twisting hallways lined with portraits, through large empty rooms, until finally he stops, in the entrance to a ballroom. Hesitantly, hoping no one sees him, he peaks around the entrance, mesmerized by the lights.

The ballroom is alight with music, full of people, full of laughter. The lights and colors mesmerize him speechless. The whirling skirts of the pretty women and the suites of the men, the ballroom is full of life. The dancers move perfectly, each move graceful, begging his eyes to stay, pulling him in, begging him to join. The music seems to come from all over, and Atsushi can't seem to pinpoint an exact source, but it swells and dips and crescendos and someone is telling him to go, to join the festivities and be happy. To feel the joy that they must be feeling, to join in the celebratory mood of the party. Atsushi stumbles forward, begging for the light, longing for the happiness…

Suddenly, it's all gone. Atsushi feels a slight stinging on his neck, and reaches up involuntarily. His hand comes away bloody. The culprit is a crystal light fixture, pointed sharply and dangerously. Atsushi feels strange. He doesn't quite know why he wanted to join the dancers, it seemed fun, sure, but kind of illogical. It almost felt like someone was telling him to do that, to join the dancers and dance to the music. And then, Atsushi notices something strange. The music, that joyful waltz, has come to a halt.

He looks up, and freezes with fear. The entire ballroom has come to a halt. The dancers are standing still on the dancefloor, and the people scattered across the room have stopped their conversations as well. Every eye in the room is turned on him. Atsushi feels a cold sensation run down the length of his body, because their stares, they aren't stars of disappointment, or even accusation. ‘No, these stars are hungry.’ He thinks, mentally calculating an escape route. One of the men on the ballroom floor steps forward.

“Well, what are you doing here, little human?” He says, advancing slowly on Atsushi. Atsushi has the urge to step back.

“I'm sorry for bothering your party, I'll leave now.” He says, slowly starting to back away. Atsushi feels like he needs to leave. He doesn't know why, but all his instincts are screaming at him to get away. The man vanishes, and suddenly he reappears, grabbing Atsushi’s arm and with supernatural strength, pulling him to an abrupt stop. 

“Not so fast, human.” The man grins, revealing white teeth, his canines sharpened to dangerous points. In a heartbeat, Atsushi realizes what these people are. ‘Vampires, they have to be.’ He thinks to himself. 

He’s surrounded by dangerous creatures of night and he needs to get away. He tries to shake his arm free, but to no avail. The strength the tiger has granted him is useless against this man, and Atsushi stumbles back again, trying to at least shake him off. He trips, crashing back and abruptly hitting another person. The words flash through his head, embarrassingly. ‘I'm scared. I don't want to die.’

A hand falls over his eyes, and abruptly, the man's hand is yanked from his arm. Atsushi is enveloped in the smell of lilies and apples, and a familiar voice speaks by his ear. 

“What are you doing down here, little lost kitten.” Fyodor. Atsushi immediately relaxes into his hold, sinking into the comfort of it. He knows this man at least, will not hurt him. The silver door knobs on the room Atsushi was given, reflect that in startling clarity. Fyodor is speaking over him, in a language Atsushi cannot understand. 

“Этот мой, тронь его и я тебя убью.” The language is smooth and strange, but somehow very pretty to Atsushi’s ears. The man says something back, in the same language. 

“Не портите вечеринку, поделитесь человеческим мальчиком с другими.” His voice is pleading, but with another word from Fyodor Atsushi hears a crack, and his voice dissolves into a scream. He doesn't really want to know what happened. Fyodor escorts him away, and removes the hand over his eyes as the man's screams fade in the background.

Atsushi feels an anxious mix of fear and the urge to apologize to Fyodor for disobeying his command, and after all the man had done for him. But he remains quiet, until they enter Atsushi’s room and Fyodor closes the door behind him. 

“I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me. And i know you told be not to go down and you were so nice to me and fed me yummy food and i just—”

Fyodor holds up a hand, and Atsushi comes to a flustered stop, wringing his hands anxiously. 

“It's all right, Vampire music tends to have that effect on people.” Fyodor says, seating himself on the couch across from the fire. Atsushi sits down next to him, still a little nervous. It's strange, but to Atsushi’s eyes, Fyodor doesn't really look surprised. He looks more resigned as he leans back against the fine cloth of the couch. Everything about this man is strange, and Atsushi really shouldn't be surprised that he has ties to the supernatural. ‘I mean, he can't be a vampire…right?’ Atsushi thinks to himself, fiddling with his hands again. ‘Im still bleeding and he has no reaction.’ 

“Um, Fyodor? Are you a vampire too?” it occurs to Atsushi a second to late that he doesn't know if that's a rude question, but Fyodor answers before he can apologize. “So, you figured it out? Yes, I am.” The surprise must show on his face, because Fyodor chuckles. “Why, are you surprised? Was it not obvious?” Atsushi shakes his head, a little embarrassed. “I just thought…well, because you're not affected by my blood…” Fyodor chuckles again, and in an instant, erases any distance between their bodies.

Fyodor’s breath tickles his neck, and his voice is thick with something hot when he speaks. “Oh, is that what you think?” Atsushi shivers, as hot breath hits his ear. 

And in an instant, the man before him has fallen apart. His eyes burn, tracing every contour of Atsushi’s face as he speaks. “Every time you move i smell it. The aroma of your blood, teasing my tastebuds, dancing a dangerous tango with arousal.” 

All pretenses of put togetherness are gone now, as Atsushi’s back hits the arm of the couch, Fyodor’s thin body cornering him against the hard edge. Thin fingers tangle in his hair, the long strand framing his face, twisting the silver strands around his fingers. Another hand traces his jawbone, gathering the remaining blood of his neck in a delicate swipe. Fyodor makes sinful eye contact as his tongue darts out, licking the blood of his finger. 

Every nerve ending in Atsushi’s body is at war, caught between a rock and a hard place, a small silver tiger, cornered by a creature of myths, a creature draped in darkness and danger. He wants to run, but he also wants to submit, to let his head fall back against the couch, to allow this creature, this man, to take him any way he wished. It was an odd feeling, but not terribly unpleasant. 

“Tell me little one.” Fyodor’s mouth curves into a smile, his fangs flashing in the light. “Will you allow me a taste of your blood?” Every part of his brain screems at him that this is a bad idea. He could be seriously injured, or worse, die. But every other part of his body is telling him to give in, to consent and give this man permission to do waht he wished. And Atsushi feels more inclined to go with those feelings. He nods, squeaking out an answer. “Yes, you can do what you want.” It's probably a dangerous response, but Fyodor seems pleased as he pulls two thick black ribbons out of his pocket. “Hold out your hands, little one.” 

The ribbon is silk, soft on his skin, and dramatically black against his pale skin. It feels strange to have his hands tied like this, and even though he could easily rip the ribbon apart, he would rather enjoy the feeling. Fyodor comes closer, and leans forward, securing the other ribbon over his eyes. The world goes black, one of his senses taken away. It only serves to heighten the excitement, because now without sight, all his other senses are sharpened. He can hear the rustling of clothes as Fyodor undoes his button down, feel the coldness of his skin stroking Atsushi’s bare chest, the thin trails of cold tickling his waistband, stroking him over the thin fabric of his pants. The man yanks his pants down slightly, just far enough that Atsushi’s dick is set free. 

He bucks up involuntarily, the cold pressure of Fyodor’s hand both a relief and a tease for his hard on. The man above him chuckles, his voice gradually coming closer. “Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit.” His voice is right by Atsushi’s ear, and he shivers with anticipation. “In fact, I think you’ll enjoy it.” And then, teeth puncture his skin. 

The pain only lasts for a second. It's a meager prick of pain, the pain of skin being broken, and it's swiftly overwhelmed by pleasure. A heat, a blinding heat is running through his veins, tainting his soul with pleasure. Pleasure, running from the bite of his neck, through his body, driving his crazy. He knows he must be letting obscene moans leak through, but he can't even bring himself to care. His dick twitches, shooting ropes of cum all over his stomach as Fyodor gulps hungrily at his neck, little groans of pleasure occasionally leaking through the obscene sounds Atsushi can faintly hear himself making.

It's like nothing he has ever experienced before. He’s still twitching slightly, coming down from his abrupt orgasm when he feels Fyodor draw away from his neck panting. Then cold hands are on his waist, flipping him over effortlessly, pulling his pants all the way off. Atsushi’s hands fall forward, tied wrists hitting the hard arm of the couch, head falling forward onto the soft cushions. He’s on his knees, hands still tied, eyes still covered, dick dripping cum onto the couch cushions, back arched ass up, for the man behind him. The position is embarrassing, even in his post orgasm haze, but the embarrassment doesn't last long, as Atsushi hears a cap open, and then cold, wet fingers are working his hole open. 

Atsushi moans again, loud and obscene as his dick twitches, leaking onto the couch. Fyodor chuckles behind him. “I wish you could see yourself right now, all tied up and pretty.” Atsushi’s dick twitches at the praise, even as he heats up with pleasure. Fyodor continues, his accent thickening slightly. “I know you’ll look even prettier screaming around my cock.”

Atsushi feels a pressure against his asshole, and then something big is stretching him open. It hurts just a little, but Atsushi feels himself bucking backwards, begging the man to move faster. And he does. In one fluid stroke Fyodor buries himself deep in Atsushi, hands gripping his waist like an ice cold brand. Atsushi screams a moan as he moves, setting a deep brutal pace. It hurts slightly, Fyodor is big, but only in the best way, and Atsushi lets out more obscene noises as the slaps of skin fill the air. 

What an odd day this has been. He would have never guessed he would end the day, bent over a couch and blindfolded by a vampire, a vampire who is now leaning down, breath teasing Atsushi’s neck again, cooing compliments in his ear.

“So pretty.” an especially hard thrust hit a spot inside Atsushi that makes his eyes white behind the blindfold. “So obedient. You like a bit of pain, don't you?” A moaned yes, then a scrap of teeth followed by a hot tongue. Fyodor’s smug chuckle is slightly huskier, a sign of his slipping composure. “Do you want me to bite you again?” Fyodor says, tone full of mocking. “You liked that last time didn't you.” 

Atsushi can imagine it, the overwhelming pleasure, the forced orgasm. He wants to feel that all over gain. “God, yes please!” He sounds embarrassingly needy, but he can't bring it in himself to care. Fyodor rams that spot again, and Atsushi’s back arches. “Oh, you want me to bite you again.” Fyodor says, all smug. “Then beg, pretty boy.” Atsushi is too far gone to even care. He would gladly beg for the pleasure again, no matter how humiliating it was. “Please Fyodor, please bite me again!” His voice is breathy and tight, full of pleasure and pleading. Fyodor grunts, cold hands still gripping Atsushi’s waist. 

“You're such a dirty boy aren't you.” Atsushi nods frantically, begging, pleading the man above him to sink those sharp fangs into him once more. Fyodor sighs mockingly. “Very well, since you begged so nicely, I'll do as you wish.” Atsushi moans in joy and agreement, back arching as he feels the fabric of Fyodor’s shirt scraping his bare back, and feels the tickling of his shoulder length hair on the nape of Atsushi’s neck. He can't help but moan in anticipation, and Fyodor just seems more pleased as he leans closer, whispering in Atsushi’s ear.

“You're such an obedient pet, maybe I should keep you here for all eternity. My little fucking doll, you’d like that wouldnt you.” Atsushi clenches involuntarily at the thought, his dick dripping more and more precum onto the couch. Fyodor huffs a small laugh. “You naughty boy, and over such a depraved thought.” Atsushi can feel an orgasm building, winding pretty little knots of pleasure tangling in his gut, and at that picture, he almost falls apart. The thought of spending eternity here with this man, getting fucked ruthlessly by his big dick and fed delisous food, sounded honestly like a dream. It was a dirty thought, to leave all his responsibilities behind, but in the heat of the moment, it was all he could think of.

Fyodor’s tongue teased his ear, hot breath tickling the soft skin, as he trailed kisses down his jaw, teeth scraping his neck in anticipation. Atsushi fears he’ll cum early, and as those teeth puncture his neck, he does. It's embarrassing how he cums at the shot of pain that precedes the pleasure, but he does, spraying ropes of cum all over the couch beneath him. And then, the pleasure hits and he cums again, moaning out an obscene garbled mix of Fyodor’s name, as his asshole clenches down on the large protrusion lodge inside of him. 

And just when he thinks he cant cum anymore, Fyodor hits that spot inside him for the last time, and Atsushi’s spent dick twitches to life again, leaving more trails of cum all across the poor couch. Fyodor’s teeth are still lodged in his throat, and his dick twitches inside Atsushi as he releases hot ropes of cum inside him. The pleasure is so great he almost blacks out, his dick twitching limply against his thighs. 

Hes hazy when he comes down, and when Fyodor unties his hands, pulling the blindfold away from his eyes he blinks sharply, his eyes adjusting to the light. And hes tired, so, so tired. Fyodor seems to sense his mood, because he doesn't say much as he cleans Atsushi off, and pulls a blanket over his spent body. With a snap of his pale fingers, the candles are out and with one last little smile, Fyodor bids him goodnight, and Atsushi drifts off into dreamland.

End Notes: the russian is google translated. Fyodor says: ‘This one is mine, touch him and I will kill you.’ and then the man says: ‘Don't spoil the party, share the human boy with others.’ And then Fyodor breaks his arm. His red flags are big but so is his dick…

Taglist:@mulit05ho3st4n

[ghxstadventvres]

PINNED !!

my intros for my clowns will be divided into present-day / fun facts & a background portion. if you’re not interested in reading the background, you can skip it! trigger warnings will be listed before the background portion.

❀ *◦ kang seulgi. trans woman. she/her. pansexual panromantic. ⇝ hey, isn’t that salem jung? i think that the thirty year old from sleepy hollow, new york works as a paranormal investigator, but outside of that people describe them as cracked ballet slippers, a loud classical music overture covering up the sounds of an axe hacking away, liminal spaces that don’t feel real ( or maybe you aren’t real ), lit candelabras, pumpkin guts spilled over tabletops, a door slamming shut when you speak of the dead, packed boxes remaining in a lived-in home, nightmares of losing all your teeth, standing alone in the ballpit when all the lights go off, disembodied laughter in the halls. i hear they are off-putting & guileful, but they are also known to be gumptious & sensible. consider giving them a visit at their home in other ( rabbit creek ) and get to know why they’re called the bad omen.

PIN BOARD. / STATS.

PRESENT-DAY:

local nuisance. the kind of woman that walks into the room and the candles blow out on their own, and everyone turns their head, but not because she's the most stunning thing you ever saw. drawn means compelled

man-eater by hall and oates plays aggressively

taking on her sister's two year old, briar, has taken up a considerable amount of her time, but she still makes time to get her freak on

she still talks to people that aren't there — in any setting. think of her like long island medium without the scam tactics. but you can't usually tell if she's pulling it out of her ass to fuck with someone or if they're really there. you'll probably never know. she doesn't really give a shit if people think it's weird

she's pretty new to town, moved here in october 2024. she feels drawn to it for reasons inexplicable, and the scenery change wasn't such a bad idea. it helps that this is the home base of her paranormal investigating crew's host, alizka, so they don't have to coordinate their next trysts over the phone

box-dye job with the red streaks, short straight-cut bangs, and chokers for days

sleeps above her covers. four feet above her covers. not really. maybe

doesn't really play nice anymore after learning someone posed as her sister post-humous. doesn't know who to trust, so she doesn't give it out that easily. there's something off about what happened. but she hasn't figured out what that is yet

BACKGROUND!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: pregnancy & pregnancy-related death, mentions of devil worship (?), murder

what a pair you made, brother and sister. you were the apple of your father's eye in a family that would have been far bigger, had your mother not passed away from complications of eclampsia in childbirth with the two of you. he never remarried and devoted his life to the two of you

when you were three, your dad caught you talking to thin air while visiting your mother's grave. when you were eleven, you were still giggling at jokes that no one else in the room was clued in on. your father feared you for it but never said it in so many words. why would your mom's blood run down her legs in birth if it weren't to the devil?

you were rarely apart when you were kids, but siobhan never had much of a backbone, did she? she wet her pants when the wind blew the wrong way. you were fascinated by books, and your sister became homecoming queen

one of those books you discovered was a book of the occult, and you became fascinated with witchcraft. it preoccupied a great deal of your time. and yes, you saw the irony, born to a namesake of those afflicted with accusations. practicing made you feel like you weren't so strange

you skip college after graduation, and your sister skips town. you keep practicing ballet and you land yourself a spot in the new york city ballet while taking care of your father as he develops alzheimers. he accepts who you are when you come out and wish for transitioning to your true self, because at least you aren't conversing with ghosts

enter the real salem jung. she carries herself with power and confidence that she lacked in high school, round glasses and brown curls in her sister's shadow. when her sister moved back home after her master's program in chemistry, siobhan discovers her sister with a homemade haircut with a pair of sheer scissors, and her father in the grave two years ago after the phone calls she didn't have time for. they are twenty-four now

life seems normal for a few years or so. salem's hard work skyrocketed her to prima ballerina, and was the face of billboards in the city thanks to some offers from athletic wear companies

at the height of dance stardom, she was in the process of an audition for the paris opera ballet in an effort to be one of the five percent of dancers to be accepted, when everything changed

at twenty-eight, siobhan was a new mother when she disappeared. distraught, salem canceled her auditions and booked flights and made an effort to search for her sister. a year passed when siobhan appeared from nowhere, collapsing at the doors of the local hospital... but the person that returned was not the same, and it wasn't the siobhan she knew. there was a darkness within her that terrified salem, no longer the lovely, sweet and bubbly person she grew up with. it wasn't because of the disappearance. it was something else

she got her confirmation one night, overhearing a conversation she wasn't supposed to while her sister was on the phone: the real siobhan was dead in the ground, and this imposter now stood in her wake. she walked away quietly and picked up an axe out of the garden shed. witches in sleepy hollow tended to lose their heads ( maybe she lost hers too. )

you quit the new york city ballet on a rainy tuesday, with your one year old niece in your arms. press gathered outside to ask questions and circle like buzzards over the pandemonium you caused, but you got in your car and drove back to sleepy hollow

you learned how to make a profit off your gift. embarking on the road with a band of equally weird people, the television spot that you landed puts you all on the map, on top of word-of-mouth from alizka's cohosting spot on the podcast

eventually, your new way of life and endeavors scraped together enough cash for a new start. somewhere where you weren't sleeping in a ten foot radius from the garden shed you buried your sister under

are you the real one or did you kill her? you can't tell anymore, your hands are not yours, haven't been since you separated yourself from your other half. maybe you'll never know. maybe it's all an act