#Satan screams at a word doc

[nopenototdaysatan]

Two Bunnies in Love

(Cozytober Alt Day: "Thanks for putting up with me." -Ravioli)

TW: None.

(I'm honestly surprised I only managed to do Ravioli once this month.)

“Thank you for putting up with me!”, Is yelled out to the room. SIlence coming in strong before A giggle turns into a snort Turns into full on laughter.

“That wasn’t funny Mr.Hero! I’m being serious here!” Shouted from a frazzled Bunny Merchant Hurt and confused.

“No, I‘m not laughing at you Rav.” A certain Hero of Legend calms from his laughing fit. Cradling his Bunny’s chin in his hands. “Thank you for putting up with me, Ravio.”

Red blossoming on Ravio’s face As Link gently pulls him forward.. Gleeful smile, as hands roam to the back of his neck And a content look softens his hero’s eyes.

“I love you, Rav But having the same thought is Just a little funny.” “I hate you Mr. Hero.” “No, you don’t.” No, no I don’t…. Because no one else puts up with me!”

Giggles pouring out As the two bump noses together, Humming like the happy bunnies they are. Love is something to put up with after all.

[alienoresimagines]

Hi, 🤗 If you take the clegan prompt and it inspires you, what about SCREAM or CAREFUL? (depending of your whump mood 😉)

[ SCREAM ]: sender spots the receiver in a terrified or considerably panicked state, and picks them up to carry them to a less terrifying place to calm down.

[ CAREFUL ]: sender gently lifts the receiver out of their seat and carries them carefully to bed after noticing they fell asleep and not wanting to waken them.

Sooo I may have gone a little overboard with this but it was so much fun, thank you !!❤️ I went with the second one but I'm keeping [SCREAM] in a corner of my doc ;) Here you have 2520 words of fluff and a tiny bit of angst though I apologize if the writing is a bit rusty, I haven't written anything since ... *checks AO3* 2022 so it's been awhile 😅 I hope you'll like it ❤️

And thank you to @triggerlil for beta reading this 🥰😘

Find my other Mota fics here

Title is from Drag Me Under by Sleep Token (amazing Clegan fanvid with it here )

Drag Me Under | Buck x Bucky (also on AO3)

Buck’s always been quiet by nature, he doesn’t particularly like being the center of attention. When he smiles wide, he ducks his head and puts a hand in front of his mouth to hide and prevent anyone from noticing him. It’s rare to get a full-body laugh from him and damn near impossible if you’re not Bucky. So, it figures he’d be a quiet sleeper too. If Bucky’s attention wasn’t always somehow on Gale and every little thing he does, he doubts he’d have noticed the other man had fallen asleep. As it is, Bucky is mesmerized, the radio and the baseball game all but forgotten. A bomb could go off and he doesn’t think it would be enough for him to tear his gaze away. 

Buck’s leaning on the armrest, not quite slumping down but not sitting as straight as he would awake, his eyes closed and pink lips slightly parted to let out soft exhales. His eyelashes fan over delicate cheekbones, mirroring his usually carefully styled hair that falls over his forehead in soft strands, no longer abiding by the products Buck had slicked them back with in the morning. Bucky aches to touch, to card his fingers through the golden locks and feel again how soft they are. To feel Buck’s warmth on his fingertips as he gently traces them over his cheeks. He looks young, Bucky thinks, which isn’t quite right. He looks his age, a fact that Bucky often forgets because he’s never thought of Buck as anything but his equal. Yet in the dim light of the table lamp painting his skin a soft gold, shadows rounding the edges of a jawline still too sharp after months of not enough food, book forgotten on his lap, Buck looks unbearably young, and Bucky is overwhelmed with the need to care, to protect. 

It’s not like Buck can’t do that for himself. Bucky knows firsthand how capable Buck is, and has experienced multiple times the warmth curling in his chest and the burst of pride taking over his being at seeing just how competent Buck is. But there is a special trust in Buck allowing himself to let his guard down in such a vulnerable manner around him. A silent “I know you won’t hurt me” that Bucky still can’t bring himself to feel deserved. It only makes him want to curl around Buck and hold him tight to his chest, show him that his trust won’t be misplaced again, that Bucky will never let himself fall as low as he did once. He will never forgive himself for hurting his Buck as he did in the Stalag, even if the man himself had forgiven immediately, had insisted that “there’s nothing to forgive Bucky, it’s just this place”. In a way, he was right. Any plane of existence witnessing Bucky being intentionally cruel and hurting Buck had to be Satan’s personal hell. It certainly was Bucky’s.

He’ll never forget the way Brady tensed whenever he was close or the way Benny scooted closer to Buck when he approached. At first, he’d thought they were scared of him and while the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to try and snap out of it. Only after his fight with Gale, when Benny placed himself between him and Buck for their meager dinner while looking him straight in his eyes, his jaw clenched and anger pouring out of him in waves did John realize that they thought they needed to protect Buck from him. Flak could have pierced the cockpit while he was on the left seat, pinning him to the metal while steel pierced his heart till he was choking on his own blood, and Bucky knew it would have hurt less than that realization. Buck had never made any indication that he was scared of him but Bucky had hit him. The mere thought of it, the feel of his rib cracking under his boot had Bucky nauseous whenever his thoughts strayed back to it. Hurting Buck felt like betraying his own heart. That had been a terrifying awakening and when the bloodcurdling shame had turned into steel determination, he’d promised himself: never again. He will never be the reason Buck hurts or feels unsafe. 

And here they were now, Buck feeling safe enough to fall asleep just an arm’s distance away. Bucky’s no stranger to duty, but this one, this promise, feels like the most important one in his life. Perhaps that’s what his mother had meant when she had said, long before he enlisted, in their little kitchen, as Bucky stood at a crossroads not knowing what he wanted to do with his life, that every person was put on this Earth for a purpose and that he’d find his soon. 

Suddenly overwhelmed with the need to make sure that this is real, that he did get home to Buck and Buck to him, he rises from his armchair, turning off the radio as he does, and crouches down in front of Buck, letting his eyes roam all over the prettiest face he’s ever seen. The parted pink lips with a cupid’s bow that always made Bucky want to capture those lips with his own to feel how soft they were, the constellations of freckles and beauty marks on his cheeks and lightly dusting his nose that he often traces with his fingers until Buck complains that the touch tickles but still leaning into it, the fading scars on his cheeks that Bucky always kisses in the morning when he wakes up and in the evening when they go to bed.

Yet, despite his vow and his best wishes bordering on despair, he knows there are some things he can’t protect Buck from, the evidence of this painted in lilac under the younger’s eyes. Bucky wishes he could erase the bruises with a caress of his fingers and tender kisses, that he could place himself as a dam sturdy enough that nightmares could only crash against him without ever reaching the shore of Buck’s dreams. It hurts to know he can only hold Buck close to his chest and whisper sweet nothings in his ear to bring the love of his life out of the water and back to him, anchoring him with gentle caresses and mindless humming until memories of war and horrors recede like waves back to the sea. His gaze lingers on the traces of fatigue on Buck’s face, made all the more apparent by the lack of frown between his brows, the relaxed tilt of his mouth for once not pulled in a serious line. 

Experimentally, Bucky slowly takes the book from Buck’s hands, letting them fall on the man’s lap. He doesn’t stir as Bucky carefully places the bookmark where Buck presumably stopped reading before placing it on the coffee table, near the lamp. Had Buck been able to sleep for more than three hours a night for the past week, he would’ve woken at the movement and blinked sleepily at Bucky before bashfully apologizing, ducking his head just so as he did. His sweet, darling Buck, now exhausted by memories that wouldn’t leave him alone. Bucky’s heart twists painfully in his chest and he’s helpless but to reach out and touch, gently stroking the golden locks off his forehead before cupping his cheek. Instinctively, Buck leans into the touch of his palm until his head rests entirely against the cradle of Bucky’s hand, trusting him even at his most vulnerable, even when he’s not conscious of it. John’s so in love that he doesn’t think he’d need a B-17 for him to soar through the skies. He’s never held anything so precious in his life. How strange, to know his heart fits so perfectly into the curve of his palm.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat and blinking back the wetness in his eyes, Bucky sighs softly before weighing his options. Waking up Buck is clearly out of the question, because if there are some things Bucky can’t protect the other man from, sheltering one of his rare peaceful rest is the least he can do. He could wedge a pillow between the armrest and Buck’s head, cover him with a blanket and let him sleep but the other would still wake up with a stiff back. They’d both slept in worse conditions during the war, but echoes of a past confession swirl in Bucky’s mind until they form the image of a little Gale, not even Buck yet, let alone One-Engine Cleven, sleeping and shivering outside a pony track. He doesn’t have to think about it for long before deciding to find a way to get Buck in bed without waking him up. For as long as Bucky lives, Gale Cleven will never have to sleep anywhere but in a warm and comfortable bed, where he’ll feel safe and free to burrow into the covers and stretch in the lazy morning while curling up closer to Bucky. 

Admittedly, there aren’t many options to get Buck in bed that don’t require him to be awake. He could gently shake him awake and hope Buck won’t wake entirely, just enough to walk somewhat on his own while Bucky guides him, but there”s always the risk that he won’t be able to fall back asleep after that. So, Bucky won’t wake him. The only way is to carry Buck to their bed and, while Bucky is confident he can, he doesn’t want Buck to wake in the middle of their trip and panic. Bucky strokes his thumb back and forth on the other’s cheekbone and watches as Buck imperceptibly nuzzles his palm, his face completely relaxed. Trusting. John has always been a betting man and he’ll be damned if one day he doesn’t bet on them. BuckandBucky. Pursing his lips, he nods once as he comes to a decision, edging slightly closer to the couch as he wiggles an arm beneath bony knees and the other around Buck’s shoulders.

“Alright, doll, wheels up.”

It doesn’t take as much effort as Bucky would have liked to scoop Buck in his arms, pausing when he stirred lightly once as he maneuvered the other’s arm on his stomach so it wouldn’t hang awkwardly off his frame and a second time to make sure his head was resting comfortably on Bucky’s shoulder. Even though it’s been months since the Stalag, Buck still hasn’t gotten back all the weight he lost and while he is nowhere near as skinny as he was in February, he’s still too light. It makes Bucky’s guts go tight with worry and he tightens his grip with the arm he has under Buck’s knees and the one around his back, pressing a kiss to the golden crown. They’ll have pancakes for breakfast tomorrow.

Hair the color of wheat tickles his neck and chin as he moves carefully up the stairs and Buck’s warm exhales fan over his chest. Through his worry, Bucky can feel warmth spreading through his entire being at such a demonstration of trust and vulnerability. He knows he’s broader than most, and his build has often been a source of pride, especially in his teens while he was still trying to find himself among others. And though Buck is no small man either, only two inches shorter than Bucky, he’s always been on the leaner side. No less powerful than him, but all grace and lean muscles. In the Stalag, Bucky had despaired and cursed at the difference as he watched Buck wither away faster than others, his shoulder blades like two broken wings piercing through his shirt that hung off his frame. Now, he feels a sense of gratefulness that perhaps, his slightly broader form helps Buck feel protected and safe. 

Even though Buck’s lighter than he should be, Bucky’s arms and backs scream in protest at the prolonged exertion but he grits his teeth against the ache and opens their bedroom door with his elbow. The moon hasn’t risen yet, the sky a pinkish color through the window illuminating the room with a soft glow. Carefully, Bucky deposits Buck on the bed, first his legs then his upper body, one hand cradling the back of his head as he lowers him to the pillow. Buck sleeps on, lips slightly parted, and Bucky can’t resist swiping a few errand strands off his forehead before placing a feather-light kiss there. Stretching back up, he considers changing Buck into comfier clothes as he knows the man will purse his lips in disgust at the wrinkles that are sure to be in his current clothes in the morning but Bucky’s own limbs are calling out for him to rest. He’ll just kiss Buck’s pout in the morning, he figures with a grin. Still, he knows Buck hates sleeping without a blanket on, even in the sweltering heat of summer, so he untucks the covers from their army-regulated folds and manages to cover Buck with them, effectively tucking him in. Hovering over him, hand braced near his head on the pillow, Bucky’s once again struck by how beautiful the other is. With his blond hair forming a halo on the white pillow, he really does look like an angel. Bucky’s angel. His gaze drifts to the long blond eyelashes fanning over delicate cheekbones, and his lips tingle with the need to see again how they’d feel against them. Slowly, he lowers himself to press barely there kisses to the skin under Buck’s eyes, feels the soft brush of eyelashes and the warmth of his skin against his lips. It’s only been an hour at most but Bucky already misses the blue of his eyes. John huffs a laugh at the thought. He really is gone for this man, isn’t he ?

Then, Buck shifts in his sleep and Bucky freezes, afraid he’d woken him up with his affections. But the other only turns on his side, one hand going under his pillow while the other latches on to Bucky’s as it rests against the pillow, and brings it closer to his face, sighing contentedly as he does so. Bucky’s heart starts hammering in his chest as waves of fondness pour out of him. He is filled with so much love for the man under him he’s surprised he hasn’t exploded yet, but he supposes it is because his love bleeds through everything he does, every word he speaks. This, he thinks, this is why I fought. For this love, I’d do it all over again. As long as I get to love him like this, I’ll never not come home.

Careful not to dislodge his hand from Buck’s gentle hold, he slides under the covers behind him, chest to back, tangling their legs together, and nuzzles his hair before pressing a kiss to the top of his spine.

“You and me, Buck.”

Buck, still asleep, instantly presses closer until they are closer to one than to two like they’ve always been and always were meant to be.

BuckandBucky.

[wrathofrats]

Yeah hi idk what this is I blacked out and came to and this was in the docs

Uhhh basically ifrits first church service and communion as hosted by Omega and alpha

Or omega baptizes ifrit and alpha lets ifrit drink the blood of Christ from his cunt.

Major warnings for intense blasphemy, mockery of the Catholic Church, degradation and religious shaming.

Also alpha is trans because WHY NOT

Ok enjoy.

-

A strong stream of incense wafted into ifrits senses.

The thick air of dust and smoke invaded him, his vision and hearing feeling more cloudy than usual.

He knelt on the carpeted steps to the church stage. Omega standing a couple of feet in front of him and looking impossibly large at this angle.

“What do you ask the church for your summon?”

He doesn’t think he should be looking up. Omega looms directly over him, staring at alpha who sits behind him. He acts as some sort of guide, as some sort of owner of ifrit, like he’s in charge of him.

Ifrit truly cannot make out alphas answer, the words tumbling over his head. Only the low tone of alphas voice penetrates the anathemic fog that surrounds him.

“Are you willing and able to fulfill your duties to bring up your summon in the satanic faith?”

A cold draft creeps down ifrits back as alpha moves to sit next to omega. He doesn’t look at his summon, he stares only up at his own form of deity. The shadows cast across his face make him more demonic, more monstrous than usual.

He reaches down and puts his wrist to alphas mouth, forcing him to sink his fangs into the rich vein of liquid. Omega serving as some metaphor for the word of their lord, his existence meant to praise someone higher but forced down with his own hands being covered in blood.

A warm wet thumb swipes across his forehead. Omega using the blood that drips down his wrist to mark him with the sign of the cross. It’s comforting in a horrific way. The warm sinister smiles of the church combined with the macabre comfort of the blood dripping down his face.

Ifrit thinks he too would bleed for the church if it held him tight like this.

“Do you renounce god and all of his empty promises?” Omega holds his book high with one hand, the other reaching down to unbutton the pants of his uniform. He’s already hard, a true testament to his devotion and love. It’s admirable.

Ifrits hand plaster together in front of him. “Yes father”

“Do you believe in the almighty father, the creator of the earth and all its demonic beings?”

A drop of precum beads at the head of omegas cock, long thick strokes milking himself of the holy liquid. Ifrit truly can’t help but stick out his tongue, desperate for a taste of their sick purity.

The book snaps shut. A screaming echo in the old room. Alpha doesn’t look up in fear of what has angered omega, ifrit being the antithesis and staring his leader in the eye in confusion.

“You’d think you’d know better from the pits. Rotten children don’t deserve to be saved”

The moisture leaves the fire ghouls mouth. He’s confused, scared, ashamed for being so greedy.

“You’re disgusting, I’ve let a sinful being kneel in front of me, offered to cleanse you of your blasphemous ways and you’ve repaid my kindness by being a greedy whore?”

“Father I’m sorry please forgive me-“ ifrits stammers out his apology through forming tears. Omega words cut deep through his devotion and lets it bleed through him, taking over his need to be.

“I hope your knees are raw. I pray you repent”

The book opens again and omega scans it for the place he stopped, continuing to stroke himself just above ifrits face.

He can’t tell when he becomes close, the act of masturbation only serving as a ritual to please his higher lord.

“There is no god that can give you your purity back”

Omega cums hot and thick across ifrits face and chest. Ropes of holy water landing on his cheeks, blessing him, baptizing him of his former demonic ways from the pit. He can feel the sin lift from his skin and burn with the holy liquid.

A rough sleeve wipes ifrits eyes, tilting his chin to smile at him.

“You’ve done well, you may savor the blood and body of Christ now as a child of the dark church”

The unmistakable sound of someone undressing comes from behind omega. Alpha rids himself of his clothing as omega slots behind him, both still perched on the carpeted stage and stairs. Candles and golden objects surround him like his own altar, his own ritual of body and blood.

Alpha opens his legs with a push from omega, hairy thighs leading up to his cunt, shining and on display. His clit engorged with devotion and peaking through his folds. Omega picks up a golden chalice, holding it high above his head, the other hand spreading alpha for ifrit to see.

“Through him, with him and in him, in the unity of the dark spirit, all glory and honor is yours almighty, forever and ever”

“Amen”

Omega tips the chalice over alphas chest, letting the red wine trickle down his body to pool between his legs. It stains his skin a crimson red, a stream from the top of his neck to his thighs. No doubt some kind of blood lain metaphor

“You may take your first communion my ghoul”

Ifrit doesn’t hesitate, dives between alpha legs to lap up the wine from his cunt, sucking the sweet liquid from his t dick. Alphas slick mixes delicately with the blood of Christ. His smoky musk catering the bitter sweet taste of the intoxicating alcohol. Ifrit truly cannot tell what he’s more drunk off of. The wine or the devotion he feels to his own lord.

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished pt 20

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Part 20/?? Word count 2113 CW: language, amputation]

—————

When he woke up, Fizzarolli found himself in a room of soft pink hues. Everywhere he looked he saw pastel tones, accented by purples and blues. A pink sky was visible through the window. The only relief from the bubblegum colors was the imp girl in the chair next to his bed.

“Barb…?” he croaked. The fuck happened to his voice? It was hoarse and scratchy, and deeper than it should be. Then he remembered.

The party. The crazed former fan. Bottles of flaming liquid. Fireworks.

Was it the smoke, the screaming, or disuse that made his voice sound like that? He tried to touch his throat but…nothing. The signals for his arm to move didn’t reach anything. A nugget of cold panic grew in his chest.

He tried to sit up, but he didn’t have anything to leverage himself upright. Barb, who had been dozing, woke up fully at his attempts to move. “Fizz! Thank Satan you’re awake!” She placed a hand on his chest to try to calm him. She pressed the nurse’s call button and let the drowsy voice that answered know he was awake.

“Try not to move yet, Fizz. The…the doctor will explain.” His friend looked so haunted, like she wanted to erase something stuck in her brain.

He tried to breathe evenly, like when his anxiety threatened to break free before he went on stage. “What happened? I remember the party and Molotov cocktails and everything on fire.”

“Someone threw Molotov’s at the tents?!” Barb hadn’t realized it had been arson that destroyed her life. “Jesus H. Christ, I should’ve stayed.” Yeah you fucking should have. That asshole wouldn’t have come around if you had, Fizz thought bitterly.

She covered her face in her hands. “We got back and everything was burning. We- I- we tried! We tried to get help, to find the others.” She drew in a hiccuping breath. “I found you, trying your damnedest to get to safety.” She looked up into Fizz’s eyes, her own watering. “I pulled you from the fire. You passed out so we got you to Sloth as soon as we could.”

“A very brave group of young women they were too,” said a newcomer into the room. “Fizzarolli, I’m Dr. Morphene,” the slim middle aged baphomet introduced herself. “I’m the lead surgeon for your case.” She sat down next to his hospital bed and looked at him with sympathy. “I’m told you just woke up. How are you feeling at the moment?”

“Kinda freakin out here, doc,” he said bluntly. “Nothing’s working right.”

She nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid I don’t have much good news about your condition. We can discuss this whenever you’re ready.”

Fizz took a deep breath. And another. A third for good measure. “Okay. How bad is it?”

“You’ve been in a medically induced coma for twelve days now. Your limbs and 85% of your horns were lost in the fire.” She paused to let him absorb the information.

Fizz stared at her. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her; every attempt to move had ended in failure after all. But finding out he was basically helpless now? It was hard to take in. “Well shit. Any more bad news?” Might as well get it over with.

“70% of your torso and 90% of your face was burned. Fortunately your hips, tail and groin had superficial damage at most. Your skin has been regrowing well. You had two cracked ribs but those are also healing well.” She looked at his chart before continuing. “I have you scheduled for some X-rays the day after tomorrow to check on those.”

Fizz, sensing the doctor had finished for the moment, laid his head back. Tears welled up and he couldn’t even brush them away. “The fuck am I supposed to do now?” They’d just been celebrating his agreement with Mammon. He was supposed to be the Sin’s new brand figure. The exciting future of working with his idol was slipping away.

Barb looked uncomfortable. “Fizz, we got word from Mammon. When you didn’t show up for work, he came looking.”

Shitbiscuits. Is this a breach of contract? Mammon’s probably so pissed, he’s gonna just cancel the whole thing.

Dr. Morphene continued after the girl. “Yes, your employer came to see you the second day. As we were still getting you stabilized, we naturally couldn’t let him in. However, he was informed of the extent of your injuries. He left a message for when you woke up.”

She held up a tablet computer for him to see and pressed the play button. Mammon’s face suddenly filled the screen. To Fizz’s surprise, he looked concerned.

“Fizzy my boy! I heard some shit went down at your circus, so I came to make sure you’re alright. Doc said you’re in rough shape but don’t you worry ya bitch! I gotta take care of my shiny new brand baby! I’m gonna get you fixed up with a set of robo-prosthetics, cutting edge from my buddy Ozzie. So tell the doc you want the implants and we’ll get you back up on a new set o’ feet. You’ll be onstage again before you know it. Now get well soon ya c**t!” The video ended with an explosion of green smoke and the sound of a cash register.

The imp’s jaw dropped. Mammon was…helping him? Not just by getting him prosthetics, but the newest robotic version from the sound of it. He vaguely remembered hearing about the robotic advances from Lust, but none of that had really affected him. Until now at least.

The cold core of him flared back to life. “If I get these…” he wouldn’t be helpless, right? His life wouldn’t be over.

“There are a number of things that need to happen first and it will depend on how much you put into your recovery. But yes, you’ll have mobility back,” the surgeon confirmed.

Barb looked like she wanted to protest, but Fizz ignored her and immediately said, “I’ll do it. I want the implants.” Dr. Morphene agreed to set up an appointment with the therapist involved for him. After giving him a bit more information, she left the teens alone.

Barb, now able to voice her opinion, hissed at him. “Fizz, you can’t just agree to whatever Mammon wants!”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What the fuck Barb?! Do you want me to just stay like this? As-as Torso-boy?!” He wiggled his shoulders. “My boss is helping me get my life, my career back! Why shouldn’t I agree?!”

Barb huffed. “It’s Mammon. A Deadly Sin, the king of Greed. He’s not just doing this to be nice, there’s gotta be a catch.”

That made him pause for a second. “Okay, but what else am I supposed to do? I’m gonna need something to help me, there’s fuck all I can do with just my tail. You got a better plan?”

She rubbed her face. “Not yet. I don’t want you to just stay this way. But can we at least look at other options than Mammon?”

Fizz frowned, feeling the still healing skin all over his face tightening. “That’ll take forever. We can’t afford a robo-hand, much less a full set of arms and legs. Not with…with the circus gone.” Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes again. Barb looked like she was going to cry too.

The teen made his voice as resolute as he could manage. “I’m gonna do it. I’m not letting some asshole ruin my life.”

Dr. Morphene had been right, there were a number of milestones Fizz had to meet before they could even get started. He had a team of doctors visiting him throughout each day. The robo-physical therapist, after his initial examination, set up a roadmap for Fizz and his medical team.

His skin needed to be fully healed before the implants could be attached. In the meantime, he would need to do core strengthening exercises. Rodney, the baphomet that was overseeing his therapy, explained why. “If the robotics don’t work for any reason, you’re relying on your organic parts. Your core is also going to be supporting appendages heavier than your original limbs. Until you’re comfortable using them, your core muscles are going to be carrying your weight.”

It was three weeks before he could get the docking implants. He actually got pretty good at using his tail for some things. At the very least he could hold a smoothie cup to feed himself. Working a fork or spoon usually ended up in a mess and he didn’t even contemplate trying to manipulate a knife. But he wasn’t quite helpless, which boosted his mood.

His implant surgery went well. It was a fourteen hour surgery since all four connections were integrated into his nervous system during it. Afterwards, there was more healing at the sites and continued core strengthening. Prosthetic control therapy was also added to Fizz’s days.

There were artificial limbs at the therapist office that connected to implants via cables. The practice arms and legs weren’t set up to support any weight, but to get him used to maneuvering the mechanical appendages.

Since he was having to adjust to all of his limbs being robotic, his care team would only let him focus on one set at a time. Fizz decided to prioritize his arms and hands first. He did have some practice with his legs, a half hour daily. But he was working on his arms as much as his therapist would allow.

So before his implants were ready to have actual limbs connected, he was making balloon animals with the practice set. Not as quickly as he had before, but he could do it. Rodney assured him that speed would come with practice.

Almost three months after the fire, the first of Fizzarolli’s new limbs was attached. There was a mechanical trill as it locked onto his joint and it booted up. His practice up to this point meant he no longer had to think hard about moving it. He held his new arm out straight and flexed the fingers. It was a good thing these were designed to be waterproof since he immediately had to grab a tissue for eyes.

Fizzarolli still had to build back his strength, so the limbs were added in stages. He could only have one on and active for a couple hours at first. As much as he wanted to get all of them attached at soon as possible, the implant sites ached at first. Once the second arm was hooked up he had to get them coordinated right. And once the legs were added, he had to not only maneuver them at the same time as his arms, he had to relearn how to walk.

His balance was all out of whack and his legs got twisted into knots more than once. “Good thing I’m used to taking falls,” he told Rodney after the fifth time the therapist had to untie his legs. Everyone at the hospital involved with his case knew his history in the circus. As he got better with his hands, he started working on parts of his routine.

Juggling, plate spinning, balloons, and even sleight of hand were all part of his daily training. His care team came by his therapy sessions often. They said it was to do assessments on his progress. But the rounds of applause said that was only part of it.

Despite all his work, Fizz wasn’t ready to compete in the second clown pageant. Mammon, who had been in contact with him at least once a week, told him to focus on his recovery. “The fans are gonna want a good show! So make sure you can give them what they paid for Fizzy.”

Barb, who was visiting him every day, was still conflicted about Mammon’s behavior. “At least he’s not cutting you off,” she admitted. “Though I heard he turned all your plushies into numbered limited editions, since they won’t match your look anymore.” Her voice dripped in disgust, not trying to hide her feelings about the Sin’s avarice.

Fizz felt up to participating in the third annual pageant. It was his first major performance since the fire. He’d done some small gigs after being discharged from the hospital to help play the bills. He came in a close second place. Close enough that he was sure some more work, more polish, would get him another win.

He threw himself into his practice. He took a variety of performing jobs, branching out from clown work. And at Mammon’s fourth annual clown pageant, Fizzarolli retook the crown.

—————

<<First <Prev Next>

[ourolite2]

　　　　　　　 　 ༅ 𝒥ihane 𐙚 ˙

♱ all sobriquets + pseudonyms. ࿓ ora, love, sinning star, haniel, love junior, shopkeeper ji, grandmother/grandma, trinketeer, the high priestess, doc, miss ji, satan, little love, sunshine, & ji.

ᰍ overall notables. this woman is known for having a smile that could make the cosmos bow their head in submission, and I’m not implying that it’s cunning. full pretty lips, the deepest dimples, and the sweetest titters that corresponds with her innately wholesome voice. has dimples quite literally everywhere — one forehead, four on her cheeks, two on her back, it’s crazy fr. once more, her voice is innately on the higher side, though far from annoying. it’s memorably saccharine, cloying, and sentimental, the personification of the most iridescent bubbles. a kind of voice that brings bundles of warmth and nostalgia; it’s a given that children are attracted to such due to its purity, so she’s often seen around the little kids of any presented au. has a subtle lisp. often refers to associates or recent friends as angel or cherub. ᰍ standard physical facts. blonde patch in the front near the left side of her hair in human form. hair and skin is impractically soft considering her djinn side represents the elemental plane of air and clouds. keeps her djinn bottle as an earring accessory (considering its gold accents that corresponds with her brown attires and insignificant size, no one suspects it, but when they do, it’s not like they’re capable of snatching it off, for she has a spell that binds it to her ear permanently). has a silver smiley piercing which she naturally shows off.

დ genshin au notables! n/a (temporarily). დ spider-verse au notables! n/a (temporarily). დ jujutsu kaisen au notables! n/a (temporarily).

ᰍ age appearance. nineteen (19). ᰍ birthday. may 25th. ᰍ nationality, race, + ethnicity. (varies depending on the au), african-american, + moroccan. ᰍ gender, prns, sexuality. agender, she/her (though doesn’t care much), + panromantic & ninsexual.

ᰍ sun sign. gemini. ᰍ MBTI. infj-t (the turbulent advocate).

ᰍ likes. heartstrings… but the word. the word is just so goddamn pretty to her. foamy soap dispensers. foamy facial cleansers. witchcraft. toy collecting. mango tea. tarot reading (giving & receiving). ghost hunting. black olives. artifact hunting/paranormal activity in general. palmistry. wind chimes omg. dream catchers omg. incense making. oh muh gud her friends!!! aerial silk (in genie form). moonwater. cake pops, so yummy!!!! piranhas. mochi. onesies. fucking berries… raspberries, black berries, blue berries, no matter. reading magazines. henna artistry. gold, gold, gold! cardigans. ACCESSORIES THAT JINGLE! tangia w/ fucking oxtails... favorite stew. loves stews and soups in general… or potato salad lol. puppies! very cute. philosophy, duh. listening to the ocean in seashells. cherubs. mud masks for face or hair, mud baths.. .the earth. LOVES the rain omg. thunder, lightning, strong wings- ok storms as well BUT primarily just rain. lingerie. igneous rocks. low-waisted pants. fossils. + aloe butter. ᰍ dislikes. unnecessary and unasked for criticism. bombarding/unnecessary questions. rude or mentally/physically destructive customers. trypophobia. sudden upcoming mental breakdowns. cream of wheat. oversleeping. too much dairy (is lactose intolerant). stubborn, cat-coded characters!!! (“mh… it’s more of a guilty pleasure! all of my doted darlings are little mittens that keep me warm… argh, during the summer, that is”…) lost jewelry. terrible hair days. terrible mental health days, which leads to her dressing like a grandma fr. unanswered questions. frequent migraines. yo-yos (she could never do it :(.) scorpions. giant hornets. + intense, negative, & suffocating auras.

･ﾟﾟ❥ quotes.

Receiving A Gift: II ୨୧ “Ambrosia at it’s finest…”

More About Jihane: III ୨୧ “Alright everyone, don’t scream… a legend has arrived… *a moment of awkward silence then mumbles* … O I sound like that damn crazy cat…”

About Us: Antiquity ୨୧ “Think of an antique as a book … Good stories aren’t discerned by worth, fame, or length, but by relatability or connectivity. Assess yourself as the narrator of this object if you’re drawn to it. As for me, Traveler, I’m very drawn to you. Do you mind if I give you a reading, maybe? I’d really like to test our relevance.”

Chat: Divinity ୨୧ “Oh Haniel, why must I be so fine? Ze’ma … Why must my wisdom be so divine? *giggles proudly* … Ze’maaa… Tis’ a sad, sad case for most…”

oc masterlist. extended details. visualizer.

⑅ neso productions. all rights fucking reserved, do not plagiarize.

[jadequeen88]

Nothing Compares: Dad!Eddie Munson x Reader

Cross-posted on AO3

Read part 2 here Summary:

The thin walls of your apartment rattled with the slamming of your front door. You jumped awake in fear, knowing you were supposed to be alone tonight. After your initial panic, you knew by the sound of the heavy footsteps and quiet cursing exactly who was terrorizing your home at 2:45 in the morning.

Eddie Munson.

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

Having a kid can change people, but not always for the better...

Notes:

I wrote this faster than ANYTHING I've ever written before, so if there are any mistakes, I apologize! I wanted to try my take on Eddie becoming a dad. Although I think he means well and would be a great dad, I could see it being a hard transition for him. As always, please let me know what you guys think. Hopefully, I will be adding more chapters to The Last In Line soon! I also have a couple of more WIPs in google docs that I'm very excited about. Looking forward to all your comments! ALSO! There will definitely be a part 2 to this!

TWs:

Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Soft Eddie Munson, Dad Eddie Munson, Oral Sex, Making Out

The thin walls of your apartment rattled with the slamming of your front door. You jumped awake in fear, knowing you were supposed to be alone tonight. After your initial panic, you knew by the sound of the heavy footsteps and quiet cursing exactly who was terrorizing your home at 2:45 in the morning.

Eddie Munson.

The specter who never seemed to stop haunting you, no matter how many times you tried to exercise him from your life. Maybe those assholes back in high school were onto something calling him the spawn of satan. It’s one of the only reasons you can come up with at this point. You knew it would be best to go ahead and wake up. The longer he spent ransacking your apartment, the more riled up he’d get and the longer it would take to calm him down.

You pull your robe around yourself and slip into the hallway, wincing slightly at the cold wood beneath your feet.

“Where is he?”

You grimaced. Eddie had clearly gotten wasted after the show tonight. He stood in the middle of your living room, cropped tee still damp around the neck with sweat and eyeliner skewed. You hated how your gut lurched with want at the sight.

“Who, Eddie?”

“Who?” he looked at you with that infuriating expression he wore when he was exceptionally worked up. You wanted to slap him and kiss the breath out of his lungs in apology at the same time. “My fuckin’ son, that’s who!” His eyes are wild and he’s nearly screaming. If his fit resulted in old Ms. Connor calling Jim Hopper again, you’d string him up from a light pole.

“Eddie, I told you Sunday at drop-off that Wayne wanted to keep him tonight. He took him fishing this afternoon and now he’s sleeping over.” you walked a little closer trying to school your features. You knew if the rage you felt bubbled over with Eddie in this state, you’d have to call Jim yourself to haul you and your ex to the station.

“Did not. I would have remembered,” He mumbled, still walking around opening closets and doors.

“I can’t do this tonight,” you sighed. Your hands started to shake.

“Oh, you can’t do this tonight? Huh? And why is that? Got your little pencil dick boyfriend hiding back here?” Eddie stomped towards the bedroom you used to share, hell-bent on catching you in a lie you’d never told.

“Eddie, you know I don’t have one!” Maybe you should save yourself the trouble and call Jim at home. Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time you had to disturb the Byers-Hopper household in the middle of the night.

“Stop fuckin’ lyin’ to me, Birdy,” the old nickname sent pain through your chest. Sometimes, you wished for a quick slap instead of these painful exchanges. At least the sting from a blow would fade instead of crawling inside your body and festering like Eddie’s words had a habit of doing. “You went on a date with him last weekend.”

“One date, Eddie!” your voice pitched higher as he threw open your closet. He slammed the door to the ensuite bathroom against the opposite wall before looking under your bed. “I never called him back!”

“Oh, dear! Why ever not?” Once Eddie was satisfied that you weren’t hiding a man in your apartment, all his attention focused on you. His arms crossed over his chest, head cocked to the side, waiting on a response.

“You know why not,” you blinked rapidly, refusing to give him any more of your tears.

“Tell me,” he demanded softly, walking towards you. He was close enough now that you smelled the vodka seeping from his pores. How long had he been drinking tonight? You watched his arm rise, standing still as a statue as he reached out towards you. His ringed hand sat heavily on your neck. Eddie bent forward, trying to meet your downturned gaze. The thick callous of his thumb felt like fire against the underside of your jaw. You knew if you looked into his eyes, your resolve would shatter. You used to joke with Eddie about how his puppy dog eyes were his superpower. If only you knew then that they’d be used against you one day…

“Birdy…” you could hear the tears in his voice. You couldn’t take this anymore.

“Stop calling me that, please,” you wished you’d yelled it. You wished you’d have sounded strong and determined. You wished you could shove him away and scream at him. But you were just too fucking tired. Instead, your plea came out a watery, weak whisper.

“Don’t want to,” he whispered, now both hands cupping the side of your neck. His forehead fell down to connect to yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “I miss you so goddamn much. You know that?” he sniffed back tears and your own finally fell from your eyes.

“You’re just drunk, Eds,” your hands came up to his chest to push him away, but only lingered there, digging into his sweaty shirt. “You only miss me when your drunk.”

You felt him shake his head and grip your neck tighter. “Miss you all the time. Just too scared to say it sober,” his words slur even worse through his tears. “You know I’m a fuckin’ coward, baby.”

His wrists felt so solid beneath your hands. The sick, sad, lonely part of your soul rejoiced at the sensation, of him touching you and you touching back. Reluctantly, you pulled his hands away and turned to sit on the foot of your bed, openly weeping now.

You remember sitting in the same spot the night you kicked him out last year. Eddie still behaved like a child while you had a toddler of your own to think about. All the hours away at band practice, the drinking, him dealing even after you said you didn’t want that around your baby. The straw that broke the camel’s back was finding the blonde in his lap at a party you tracked him down to. You’d been up all night with a sick toddler, not knowing where on earth your husband was. Thank God his saint of an uncle was around to watch the baby while you combed through the dark streets of Hawkins looking for Eddie. Of course, he’d been at that asshole Billy’s place…

You remember the sick smirk Billy Hargrove leveled you with, ice blue eyes looking at you up and down shamelessly. He gleefully pointed to where Eddie sat, girl in lap, drunk out of his mind.

“You know,” he’d reached his arm around your waist and purred into your ear. “If you really wanna get under his skin, I’d love to help you out with that, mama.”

You shoved him away, vibrating with fury. “Fuck you, Billy.” you stomped across the room as he responded with a, “Yeah, that’s the point I was makin’, sweetheart!”

Eddie looked up at you in shock, pushing the girl away roughly.

“Fuck you, Eddie Munson. I’m done,” you wrenched off the thin, gold band he’d given you the day he proposed to you under the tree you’d played under when you were both just two poor trailer park kids. You didn’t care to hear his excuses. You didn’t care that he swore he’d never cheated, that he was so drunk that he didn’t even realize a girl was on his lap. You saw the writing on the wall. You knew it would only be a matter of time before his desire to play rockstar would destroy your already fragile little family.

So you kicked him out that night. Since then, you’d raised your son mostly on your own with help from Robin, Steve, and sweet Uncle Wayne. You never kept Eddie from his child, he was an excellent dad when he wasn’t in his own head, but Wayne usually handled the drop-off and pick-up times. You could tell it hurt him to see his nephew potentially becoming like his father. He always promised his uncle that he wouldn’t become his father. Wayne stepped in when the crime and alcohol took a front seat in his life, rasing Eddie as his own. Nowadays, Wayne wasn’t too sure his nephew would keep his word.

After a few months, however, the drunken visits started. At first, your resolve was solid. You were determined to keep Eddie’s shit out of your life and out of your son’s life. But the loneliness and heartache got a little more prominent with each fight. Going on that date last week solidified it… You still loved Eddie. That wouldn’t change, no matter the time or distance.

Eddie hadn’t seen you cry since the night you ended things. You made sure of it. You knew that once he cracked you the slightest bit, there’d be a very real danger of him making his way back into your life. It was a gamble you didn’t want to take.

But tonight, the dam burst. Eddie dropped to his knees in front of you, lying his head in your lap.

“Don’t cry, Birdy. You’re killin’ me,” his hands rubbed up and down the sides of your thighs to comfort you. “Tell me why you didn’t call him back. Please, baby. Just say it,” you sobbed as you pushed his curls away from his face. You still couldn’t look at him, but you felt his gaze on you. “I gotta know you still love me, Birdy. I gotta know because sometimes I think I might die ‘cause I love you so much.”

“Eddie, stop,” you gripped his hair as you felt him nuzzle his tear-soaked face into your stomach.

“No, goddammit! I won’t! You gotta listen this time,” you softened when you felt his arms wrap around your waist. “I know I’m fuckin’ stupid, okay? I know I fucked up a lot, but I never ever cheated. I never could. I can’t live with myself anymore knowing you think I did something like that.”

“There’s so much more to it,” you finally opened your eyes, looking towards the ceiling to gather your thoughts. “The drugs and the constant partying… Eddie you know I love all the guys, and I love you being in the band, but you can’t find a balance between all of that and being present for us as a dad and partner.”

“Birdy, I will! I swear on my mom’s grave, I will do better!” at the mention of his mother, you finally looked at him. He never talked about her unless he was deadly serious. You wiped his black tears away from his cheek, still avoiding his eyes. “I wanted to tell you earlier, call you before the show, but I got all fucked up in here and couldn’t,” Eddie pointed to his head to emphasize his point. “Gene hired me back at the shop,” you raised an eyebrow, finally meeting his gaze. The only job Eddie kept for any considerable length of time was working on cars downtown at Hawkin’s Tire. It seemed to be one of the only honest jobs he didn’t outright hate. “Full time. I’ll be workin’ forty hours.”

“But Eddie, you said-”

He shushed you gently, shaking his head. “For the past year, I’ve scraped by with dealing and playing gigs, and I’m fuckin’ miserable,” his voice cracked, and a fresh wave of tears spilled past his lashline. “If I don’t get to go home to you two every night, nothin’‘s worth it. Not the music or the high. I’m starting to hate every second of it.”

“You’re drunk right now,” you ran your fingers through his hair and watched him melt into your touch. “How can I believe you?”

His grip around you tightened, and he sat up a little straighter, “Give me a week,” he whispered. “Let me come home next Friday when I get off work at the shop with my first paycheck cashed.” Eddie’s hands traveled to your hips. You gasped when he gripped you tight. “I’ll bring you yellow roses and that wine you like. I’ll bring the little squirt pizza and rent that one stupid Muppet movie he loves,” you started to smile reluctantly. Eddie’s own grin matched it. “And after, I’ll give him his bath and read to him while you open that wine,” you gasped when Eddie’s lips brushed along your exposed collarbone, but you didn’t move to stop him. “When he’s asleep,” he kissed the top of your cleavage and bit back a moan. “If mama wants,” you don’t stop him as he pulls one side of your robe off your shoulder, exposing the soft bralette you fell asleep wearing. “I’ll worship her all night,” his thumb lightly traced your hardening nipple. You gasped and grabbed his shoulders. “Like I’ve been aching to do for months.”

You pulled Eddie up from the floor, standing with him. Your lips met in a flash, months of pain and longing seeping through every brush of tongues and touching of lips. The outline of Eddie’s cock was already pushing into your hips and your mouth watered. When your hand met his denim-clad bulge, he let out the sweetest, filthiest moan. Before you could get very far, he pulled your hand away.

“No, baby,” he planted a wet kiss on the corner of your panting mouth, “Wanna taste you. That okay?” you nodded as he backed you towards the bed.

Even though Eddie’s hands were shaking, he took his time, just like he always did.

“Tell me there hasn’t been anyone else,” he spoke into the skin of your inner thigh.

“No one, Eddie,” you gasped as his tongue met the fabric of your soaked panties. “Only you.”

“Not even Harrington?” he growled, hooking a finger into the crotch of your underwear and pulling it to the side.

“Christ, no!” you groaned as he went straight for your swollen clit, sucking and nibbling it. “You know better than that,” you sighed, grabbing a fist full of sweaty, dark curls. Eddie groaned and you could see his narrow hips grinding down onto the mattress.

“Pull harder,” he gasped. You obeyed and he doubled his efforts on your clit, kissing, licking and nibbling on it. He moaned into your pussy, grinding down onto the bed harder. “Oh, fuck,” he murmured, “Gonna cum in my jeans like a teenager.”

“Do it,” your voice was husky as you found your confidence again. You sat up and slung one leg over his shoulder, gripping his hair even harder. “Show me how pathetic you are, baby,” you rolled your hips into his mouth and the hold Eddie had on your hips tightened. “Cum in your pants while I use that smartassed mouth,” He nodded enthusiastically and you threw your head back. Eddie helped move your hips with his iron grip and a few moments later, you were orgasming into his open mouth. As you came down, you brushed his hair from his sweaty brow. You could tell by his anguished expression he hadn’t come yet.

“Sit up here,” you said, grabbing the back of his neck. Eddie didn’t hesitate to obey you. “I told you,” you purred into his ear, “to cum in your pants for me.” you straddled his lap and he nearly let out a shout when you put your weight down on his crotch.

This was all relatively new territory for the two of you. Normally it was you underneath Eddie being reduced to a whimpering mess, but neither of you seemed too bothered by the new dynamic. Quite the opposite, actually. You can’t remember seeing Eddie this worked up since you were teenagers.

You devoured his mouth as your hips rolled against his, coaxing his release from him. Eddie came with a shout that you happily swallowed. After a few moments, you both started to giggle. You knew you should get up and let him clean himself up, but it felt so good to be near him again and he made no moves to get up form the bed.

“Please don’t think this is a complaint,” he said, kissing your neck lovingly. “But what the fuck was that, huh?”

“Guess that’s what happens when I go that long with no sex,” you laughed. Eddie groaned and wrapped you in a tight hug.

“Never thought I’d be so happy about cummin’ in my jeans, sweet thing,” he growled, rolling you over to lay on top of you.

Things got quiet again and the reality of your situation began to set in. “Eddie?” you questioned. He looked up at you from where he lay on your chest. Thankfully, he seemed to have sobered up considerably.

“Don’t make me regret this, okay?”

“Never, Birdy,” he smiled with with whole face, laugh lines deepening and eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll prove it to you Friday.”

“Friday,” you said, hazarding a small, hopeful smile.

“It’s a date,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you pushed his face away laughing.

“Oh a date he says,” you teased. “Pizza and the Muppets. Is that what dating is like once you have kids?”

“Afraid so, sweet cheeks,” Eddie walked towards the dresser, looking in the bottom drawer to see if any of his clothes were still there by chance “We’re boring now.” He smiled over at you when he found an old pair of grey sweats.

“I still sleep in them sometimes…” you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed. Eddie simply nodded and walked into the bathroom to change.

“Just don’t forget the wine and roses,” you warned, raising your voice so he could hear you through the door. “I might never forgive you if you don’t follow through on that part of the deal.”

“I would never,” he said in mock offense as he opened the door. You thought he looked even better in the old pajamas than he did in the tight, ripped jeans. “But you’re forgetting the most important part.”

“What’s that?”

“The worshipping,” he crawled up the bed towards you again. “Might want you to boss me around again, Birdy.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you said as you slapped his hip lightly.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded as he cuddled into your side. He threw the blankets around you both and before you realized, you were drifting off into the best sleep you’d had in months.

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Chapter 11

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers)  

Rating: M

Words: 1.9K

Warnings: Child birth, language, tooth aching fluff

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one  thing you need someone else for… A baby. You can plantonically start a     family, right?

AN: Two updates in a row! (Unedited) Now the taglist is officially closed now that we only have the Epilogue left. Thank you to everyone who took this journey with me, let me know what you think! much love, Cia

Chapter 11: A PowerPoint, really?

Morgan called outside the door for more nurses as soon as he heard what you said. Soon 3 women are rushing into the room, one of them clad with a wheelchair. You look at Morgan as they begin to load you in the chair. 

“Derek, call Garcia and tell her to come with my emergency birth bag, then call Dr. Lizzie and tell her the baby is coming-AHHHHH!” You screamed as you were being wheeled out. Contractions, as they turn out, are the worst feeling ever. 

Garcia is barging into your hospital room not long after that baby bag in tow. You kept an extra one at her place just in case you went into labor when the team was out on a case. “I drove just about 90 mph to get here. How are you feeling, mama bear?” 

“Like Satan himself is putting me on a spit roast.” You grunt through clenched teeth. 

“Think of the bright side you’re about to give birth to the cutest, most intelligent baby.” Garcia says. “Plus Dr. Liz told me I need to keep you calm so let’s do your breathing exercises.” Garcia starts huffing in syncopated time in order to get you to follow. You scream in her face. “Ok, so maybe not.” 

“Who’s ready to have a baby?” Dr. Liz says, in a joyous tone as she sweeps into the room. “Let’s take a look at you.” 

“Thank god! Lizzie, I need epidural. Shoot me up, Doc.” You groan from the pain. 

“So someone is a little more eager to meet the world than we thought. It’s too late to safely administer epidural. You’re going to have to go natural, kid.” 

You look at her wide eyed. “WHAT?!” You shake your head. “I-I can’t.” 

“You can, Y/N.” Penelope says. “You can squeeze me as hard as you can.” 

Tears start to fall from your eyes from the combination of pain and loneliness you felt. “I can’t do this, I need-I need Spencer.” 

You hear the door opening. Spencer walked in pushing an IV still attached to his arm, other one draped around Derek’s shoulder as he helped him walk in. Once Spencer was next to you and leaned against the wall, Derek and Penelope stepped back to give you and Spencer privacy in your moment. 

“Alright, you’re crowning. It’s time to push so next time you have a contraction, I need you to push as hard as you can.” Dr. Liz says, you nod. Spencer is pushing some of your sweat matted hair out of your forehead. 

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed.” 

“I told you I’d be here for you, for this.” He says, grabbing your hand letting you squeeze around his palm. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Spencer, I--AHHHHH!” You say, pushing. Your hand tightly squeezes around Spencer’s who despite how rough you must look right now is looking at you with the utmost awe and admiration. Dr. Liz gives you some words of encouragement as you breathe waiting for the next contraction. 

“You don’t have to say it, I know, Y/N. I know.” He says, hand running through your hair. 

“No, I need to say it. Spencer, I’m so in love with you. I love you so much, I’m sorry I kept hurting you but I need you. I love you--AHHHH!! I take it back, I hate you! I fucking hate you for doing this to me!” 

Spencer kisses the hand you’re squeezing. “I love you too, Y/N/N. And I know you don’t mean that. It’s actually fairly common for all mammals giving birth to feel disdain towards their partne--” 

“SHUT UP!” You yell as you push. “I usually love your facts but right now, shut the fuck up!”  

“You’re doing great, mom. Just one more.” You hear Dr. Liz shout over your screams. 

They don’t tell you this in any book, Doctor’s appointment, or  mommy and me class but for a moment even though it is a fleeting moment. There is a stillness in the air where everything is silent and you are only snapped out of it at the sound of your baby’s first cry. Everything else from the cheers to Spencer cutting the cord is drowned by the sound of your baby loudly entering the word. 

Your baby. 

They place her on your bare chest and your arms instinctively wrap around your most precious being. You coo as the baby continues to cry the fluid out of her lungs. She’s covered in blood and goop but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Suddenly the thing you’ve wanted for so long was finally here and she was everything and more than what you thought, the perfect manifestation of you and Spencer’s love for each other. 

Genevieve Rosalind Reid was born early November 10th. Given the name Genevieve after the song, Lady Genevieve, you and Spencer loved so much and Rosalind after famous female scientist Rosalind Franklin. 

Not more than a couple of hours after the rest of the team is slinking into the room to get a peak at the baby, bearing gifts and congratulations to you both. Spencer managed to negotiate with the doctor to at least have a bed moved into your room so if they were going to make him lay and rest at least he could be near you and the baby. Soon, one by one the team starts leaving the last being Penelope who Derek had to haul away with him. You turn to Spencer once they’re gone. 

“I love you, Spencer. I’m sorry I didn’t say it. I was scared.” 

“I know, Y/N. I love you, why were you scared?” 

“I didn’t want to lose you with my selfishness. Genevieve needs you more than I do, I didn’t want to sacrifice her having both parents because I couldn’t control myself.” 

He reaches across the aisle between your beds for your hand which you stretch to him as well. “I’m not going anywhere.” He says looking you in your eyes. “I would never abandon either of you. I love you, but no matter what happens between us, we’ll make it work. For Genevieve.” 

“For Genevieve.” You repeat back.  

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

It’s been about 9 months since you had Genevieve and you and Spencer we’re still going strong. Though the first couple of months were difficult with Spencer being injured and having an actual newborn to care for. You were still better than before, Spencer made things better. Genevieve was perfect and looking more and more like Spencer with each passing day. In fact, it seemed the only trait she did take from you was a wild stubbornness and love for Disney movies. 

You were out walking Genevieve in her stroller when you got a call. 

“Hey Spence. What’s up?” 

“Hey, where are you?” You hear over the line. 

“I’m walking with Gen in the park.” You say. 

“Do you want to meet at the coffee shop on the corner?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see it. “Sure, get me a cold brew.”  

You push the stroller into the coffee shop ten minutes later and walk over to the corner table you and Spencer have deemed yours. Your daughter is already fussy and making grabby hands for Spencer, who smiles and scoops her out the stoller. 

“Hey, Bug.” He says, sweetly as your daughter smiles brightly at him.

“God, she’s such a traitor. Instantly forgets I exist as soon as she sees you.” You say, as he hands her back so you can put in the high chair for lunch. You’re opening her banana and pears baby food when you notice it. “Why do you have my laptop?” You ask. 

“Well, open it.” 

You give Spencer a weird look before handing him the food to feed Genevieve so you can open the laptop. Your heart stops for a second as you read what’s on the screen. 

“A PowerPoint, really?” You chuckle. “Spencer, what is this?” 

“This is Reasons Why You Should Marry Me.” He says, looking up to look you in the eyes. 

“Yea, I got that from the title, Spence.” You chuckle, wetly. “And you thought a PowerPoint was the best way to ask?” 

“Well, I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.” 

“That’s true.” You say, chuckling at the memory of your first friendly encounter. You take the food back from him. “Well, show me what you got.” 

“Okay, Reason #1, You love me.” You laugh, nodding as he goes to the next slide. “And I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Spencer…” You said, swooning slightly. 

“#2, I’d be a great husband.” 

“That’s a debatable fact.” You say, chuckling. 

“Have I given you any indication that I wouldn’t be?” 

You smile and shake your head no. 

“#3, I have a ring, a very pretty one that Garcia helped me pick out and it’s yours if you say yes.” Spencer says, that makes you laugh loudly because of course she did, no wonder she’d been acting weird at work for the past couple of weeks. “In all seriousness… Y/N, I love you and I feel like I’ve loved since you brought me to this coffee shop more than a year ago and asked me to make the best decision of my life. You are my best friend, the mother of my child… I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to share my life with. So..” Spencer takes that moment to stand to kneel down on one knee. “Will you marry me, Please.” 

The tears that had been threatening to fall since he started were coming in full swing now. You nodded fast. “Yes! 1000% yes!” You exclaim. Spencer takes that moment to slide the ring on to your finger as you hear the faint applause from the bored baristas in the empty coffee shop who have gotten to know you both over the years. Spencer sweeps you into a deep kiss, that you can barely stop smiling for. You pull apart when you hear Genevieve start to babble in her highchair, reaching for the two of you. 

“Oh, come here, Bug.” You say, going to pick her up, kissing the top of her head. “Can’t stand not being the center of attention, huh?” 

“Well, she is her mother’s daughter.” Spencer chuckles when you level a bored expression at him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He says, starting to pack Genevieve’s stuff back into her stroller. “What movie are we watching tonight?” He asks. 

You think for a second. “How’s Wall-E sound?” 

Spencer smiles when he hears you say the first movie you watched together. That was the night he knew for sure that he was going to marry you someday. You didn’t know it yet, but Spencer did, and he was rarely wrong. 

“Sounds wonderful, baby.” He smiles, as the three of you walk out of the coffee shop, a newly cemented family.

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[obsidiancreates]

An Origin

(Sort of a sequel to This but I couldn't figure out how to fit Sia and Evan in but shhhhhhhhhh it's another AU we'll jsut say that)

Everyone stands around in a circle, looking at each other.

"... So... how do we go about this?" Bim asks. "Are we going to Boxcar Children up a makeshift shelter? Risk getting a hotel? I think I have about two thousand dollars left."

"I have an apartment."

Everyone looks at Doc.

"It's small, but it's somewhere to start."

"... Don't the people hunting you know about it?"

"Oh. Right. ... Do you think I'll be able to go back to gather some things?"

Dark shrugs, sitting down on a stump. "Depends. Who exactly is hunting you?"

"I don't fully know."

"What do you know?"

"... I was leaving work, a late shift at the hospital. I'm a- ... was a, surgeon. I guess I can't... do that, anymore."

"Oh, dude... that sucks." Bing gives Doc a pat on the shoulder.

"And now so do you," Bim says, snickering a little. Yancy elbows Bim, giving him a sort of... disappointed-big-brother type look. Bim rubs his arm. "Sorry," he huffs.

Doc shrugs. "It's accurate. Anyway, um, I was leaving work, and I was all alone walking to the bus stop. And then I... I don't know. Someone grabbed me and said something about... I think about 'rescuing' me?"

Dark tsks. "Yeah, a lot of other vampires consider turning someone to be saving them."

"... They weren't a vampire. Their hand was warm."

Dark perks up, surprised.

"They hit me over the head, and I woke up somewhere just..." Doc flounders for the words. "... Just horrible. Like a um, like a room in a cheesy movie about satanic cults."

"The candlelight flickered over the walls, somehow seeming to take away light instead of grant it, the shadows deeper than should be possible in the corners of the room."

Doc glances at Host, eyeing him warily. "Yeah. Like that."

"The Host was a horror writer."

"... Oh. So then... you can probably guess what happened next?" Doc desperately hopes he won't have to be the one to describe it.

"The Host doesn't need to guess. He can Know. ... ... ... Doc was pushed into the middle of a circle painted on the floor, the stench of rotting blood making his stomach churn. He looked up as a man approached him and tried to demand to know what was going on, only to realize he was gagged. His mind was still foggy."

Doc shakes a little as Host recounts it. Bing leads him over to another stump to sit down.

"The man knelt down and stroked Doc's hair. 'Here, and now, we have begun The Recompense,' he said in a voice as soft as the candlelight, and just as haunting. He stood, and threw open his arms. 'We at last fulfill our destinies!"

"The man pulled a vial out of his robe, something bubbling and the color of Sickness itself. He pulled Doc's gag out just slightly, and poured it into Doc's mouth. The taste was almost indescribable, thee only word for it being repulsive. The man forcefully closed Doc's mouth, and didn't let go until Doc finally had no choice but to swallow. The man put the gag back in after that."

"He gestured to one of the people hovering in the outskirts of the shadows. A person stepped forward. Doc's heart began racing as he saw their eyes were glowing red."

Bing rubs Doc's back. Doc clamps his hand over his neck, getting paler by the second.

"The leader of this stranger group stepped out of the way, and the vampire knelt down before Doc. They smiles warmly at him, their fangs glinting in the demure candlelight. 'It's my honor to be your Release,' they said, reverence in their words."

"They tilted his head to the side. Doc's breathing became fast, his heartbeat almost painful in the panic. The vampire brushed their fingers along his neck. 'Don't panic. Soon you'll be free from Mortal Fear.'"

"They sank their fangs into Doc's neck. Doc let out a scream, muffled by the gag. He felt thee blood being sucked from his body, his neck getting the staticky feeling of a limb falling asleep, the feeling spreading so very rapidly."

Dark tilts his head. "That's not a usual feeling for someone being turned." He looks around at the others. "Is it?"

There's a murmuring of answers, the consensus being a complete "No."

Doc shudders, and Wilford is suddenly by his side, draping a shock blanket over him. Doc jumps in place, but accepts the comfort.

"When it was over, Doc collapsed into a heap. He shivered and twitched on the middle of the circle, his veins empty yet his brain still functioning, though that term applied very loosely. He wasn't dead, at the very least."

Now, the others look sick. "You shouldn't have been awake by then," Bim croaks.

"You-you should've passed out when-when you lost enough-enough blood," Eric whispers.

"The group around Doc were speaking, but Doc couldn't understand the words. But even if his mind had been functioning well, he wouldn't have had any better idea. The words were ancient, a lost language, made for magic."

"As the chanting droned on and on, however, Doc grew more and more... alert. But not aware. Not awake. Simply alert. And hungry."

"I attacked someone," Doc croaks out, shaking. "I don't know what happened, I just- all of a sudden I was pinning someone to a wall and-and drinking blood and they were screaming around me-"

"But not because of fear. Not because of grief over their lost friend. Doc had become Feral faster than they expected. They were screaming because of their plans being ruined."

Doc puts a hand too his mouth, stifling a sob.

"When Doc came back to his right mind, he only had seconds to process before realizing he had to run. And even as he ran he could feel himself changing, feel the cold setting in-"

"Please skip this part," Doc whimpers.

"... Until at last, Doc slammed into Eric."

There's silence. A long, long silence, the only sounds being Doc's muffled sobs and the crinkling of the shock blanket as Bing rubbed his back.

"... I woke up, too." Mark breaks the silence. "... I was trying to take a hike. Job sucked, life sucked, I figured it would help. But I got jumped, and woke up while they were carrying me somewhere. I ran away, and it... it was so..."

Mark struggles to find the words.

"Yeah," Doc says, knowing what Mark meant still. "Just... yeah."

...

...

...

...

...

Bim stands up. "So. When do we go back to raid your apartment?"

"But I thought-"

"Yeah, fuck those guys. Let's see them fight ten vampires and four androids and see how much that screws up their plans. We're going to get your shit back, and figure out somewhere safe to love. For all of us."

[gizkasparadise]

18 and 22 for the writing meme.

thanks for the ask! sorry for the delay in answering!!

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

it really depends on the project, tbh. with fic writing, it's very very basic outlining where i do something like this:

chapter title -thing 1 -thing 2 -thing 3

chapter title 2 -thing 1

repeat. and then i just delete the chapter section in the outline after i post it.

for work projects, it's a lot more intense. i usually spend a few days outlining, then i organize research/background stuff into physical piles if it's hardcopy or gDrive folders if it's digital. then i make liberal use of post-its to lay out points and general brainstorming. i outline sometimes in a word doc/gdoc, but most of the outlining takes place in notepads

for outlining tools, i mainly use google drive (i have folders and subfolders for each project) and the free version of trello (project management tool). ive thought about scrivener but i dont want to pay for anything :'D

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

i had such a hard time thinking of a passage :'| but let's do malak's death scene from i loved rome more (kotor, revan/malak). excerpt/thoughts under the cut:

general thoughts: i think this is the most i've gone over line edits in a fic, especially with the final lines in the scene. i wanted to phrase everything really carefully. the "this is drowning, this is breathing/This is loving, this is leaving" pair of lines went through a thousand variations in particular. but the main thing i wanted to do was 1) write this scene in a way that was still somewhat interesting despite being a canon scene all the readers have presumably played through already, 2) integrate/come full circle with some of the arc words and themes (in particular revan's inability to apologize with malak's avoidance tendencies/leaving a situation without resolving it, and 3) be sad LOL and kind of romantic? in a weird way (maybe more Romantic). a lot of it's call backs to previous chapters in the story

excerpt w/ commentary in bold

Revan meets his eyes. They both know that there is no coming back from what she’s done to him. this line works on two levels-- revan's killing him fully aware that she's responsible for the monster he's become

He sinks to his knees, then collapses backward. Without thinking, she kneels beside him, much like she did when she was eighteen and he was near death for the first time at the Enclave following a failed mission with Vrook.

No one will hurt you again, she lies. callback to chapter....2? i think?? anyway, it's revisiting the scene where revan kind of is threatened with alek/malak's mortality and basically says Not Today, Satan to it. sort of a bitter irony, here

For the first time in a long time, it’s just them, the quiet, and the emptiness of space. And it’s not peace, but it’s not hatred. It’s just empty.

He coughs. One of his hands is pressed over his chest. She watches it rise and fall with increasing shallowness, his breath coming and leaving in awful hitches.

Malak coughs again and she’s numb. “Revan.”

She swallows. “Yes?”

“I... I cannot help but wonder. What would have happened had our positions been reversed?” canon question lifted verbatim from the game, and part of why this ship is my favorite because of their inherent tragedy and the unfairness of everything

Her hair is sweat-soaked and stuck to her neck. Her body will be screaming in pain later. But now, it’s as though every nerve she has is dead, that every breath she’s taken is for someone else.

“You would have used it better,” she admits quietly. she knows, fundamentally, that alek was a better person than she ever was.

Unable to move, he reaches for her hand blindly.

She grabs it, holds his fingers even after they fall slack. this is a callback to a previous chapter (idr which one, but one of the mandalorian wars flashback chapters) where alek reaches for her hand when he's injured and she doesnt grab it because she doesnt want to look like she's showing favoritism in front of the other soldiers

“As the darkness takes me...I am nothing.”

-

This is drowning, this is breathing. This is loving, this is leaving.  lol the way i STRUGGLED with these lines and debated including them. but w/e im happy with them/the flow of this scene and im glad they're here

-

For the first time, she’s able to say it.

"I'm sorry," she chokes.

But he still goes away.

this is a final callback to the continued arc words "She can never say she's sorry/As always, Malak/Alek walks away" that's present several times in the fic

Thanks for reading!!!

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

CRUSHES AND DATES || 2 ||

summary: Jaewon finally gets to go on the date of his dreams. 

pairing: jung jaewon x black!OC

genre: fluff

word count: 1.2k

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------🖊

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Nia whispered as she clung onto Jaewon's shirt, fear evident in her voice.

Jason thought it was a good idea to go to a haunted house as a first date, not only that, it was one of the most claimed haunted houses in Korea so of course Nia protested but once Jaewon brought out the puppy eyes, she found herself saying yes before she could even think about anything else.

They had only been in the house for five minutes and she felt like she was going to shit herself. She was one for adventures and fun but not on the first date and a haunted house was definitely ALLLLL the way at the bottom of her bucket list.

"Come on babe, it's not that bad." The latter explained, as they looked around the interior of the abandoned house. There was dust everywhere and it was starting to make Nia's skin crawl. There was graffiti covered all over the walls and satanic writings as if someone tried to perform rituals inside.

The second he said those words, a loud boom echoed throughout the house, causing Nia to jump and scream loudly. She grabbed Jaewon's left arm and held his hand tightly.

"Fuck this shit. This not what niggas do." She mumbled to herself about to turn around but Jaewon wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close to him.

"I won't let anything happen to you, I promise," He softly reassured her, kissing her forehead, calming her nerves a little.

Nia could feel her hands shake but nodded at his words anyway. The two continued to walk throughout the house, ignoring the sudden chills and gust of wind passing through them.

"I read up on this place. A lot of things happened in this house. A girl committed suicide in here, the owner of the house was killed in a car crash and any one who tried to buy the house after him had died shortly after. There were even a few rumors going around that he murdered people in this house on the second floor, and if you go into the basement, you can still hear the screams and pleas from the little kids who died. This house was even built on a massive cemetery of the soldiers who died in the Korean war. The house was abandoned in the 80's and anyone who visited the house had either become badly ill or died a few days later." Jaewon explained, walking further into the house.

"Now why the hell are you telling me this while we're already inside? You got me fucked up, Jaewon I like you a lot baby, but black people don't do this shit. I would've been fine going to your house to chill and watch a movie or something." Nia grumbled, stuffing her face in the taller mans jacket. Her words made him feel bad a little, he did drag her into the house after her constant pleas for him not to.

He gave her an apologetic smile, and tugged on her hand, leading her out of the building. Nia ran as fast as her legs could carry her, and jumped in the car. Jaewon laughed and jogged behind her, getting into the car as well and driving off.

"let's go get something to eat."

{few hours later}

"This is so good," Nia groaned as she took another big chunk out of her burger. It may not have been lady like for her to eat like a man in front of her crush on their first date but food is food and she was going to be the same person she was in school. Which is why everyone liked her so much.

"Y'know. I never got to compliment you on how good you looked." Jaewon stayed as he looked over her outfit. He liked how she didn't have to make such a huge effort to look good. She looked perfect in anything.

Most girls in the first date would wear a dress or a skirt but not Nia. Skirts and dresses weren't her thing. She liked to keep her outfits street yet simple.

"Boy this ain't nothing, this is light work." She joked, popping her imaginary collar, causing the boy in front of her to laughed. After a few seconds the laughter calmed down, and she stared back at him. "You look good too,". He had on a mean leather jacket, a white tee, blue skinny jeans and black doc martens. Something so effortless yet so sexy.

Jaewon blushed and looked at his plate of food shyly, muttering a small thank you. Nia really loved making him all flustered and shy, it was one of the cutest things ever.

"You like anime?" Nia asked, starting a new conversation, which sparked the interest of the boy in front of her.

Jaewon's eyes perked up at the question. "I love it! What's your favorite?"

Nia laughed, "How do you assume I like anime?"

"You wouldn't have asked me if I liked if it you didn't." He replied with a smile. Nia gave him a smug look and leaned back in his seat.

"My favorite is one punch man. Only, I don't like how Saitama has yet to find a worthy enough opponent butttttt in the second season Garou the monster is definitely my favorite."  She explained, stuffing fries in her face. Jaewon gave a thought to her words and nodded his head.

"My favorite is Kimetsu No Yaiba: Demon Slayer. I'm so invested into the characters, I know a lot about each one." Jaewon bashfully gushed. Nia smiled at his enthusiasm about the said anime.

To her, it was adorable how passionate he was about those type of things. When she was with her ex, he found anime weird and she could never watch it with him or around him because he always had something to say so it was refreshing to have someone with the same interests as you. It was a nice and comforting thing for a change.

“Y’know, I never really told you how much I truly liked you.” Jaewon stated, playing with his fries. He couldn’t look Nia in the face, but he knew that wasn’t an option because she pulled his face up to look at hers. 

“From the constant stares and love notes since 6th grade, I could tell. You should’ve said something sooner.” She joked, finishing the last of her burger. 

“You were in a relationship at the time that I was going to confess. I really didn’t want to get beat up by your big ass ex boyfriend.” He laughed but deep down, he was dead ass serious. Her ex boyfriend was the scariest person he and ever come across, and he knew he had to avoid Nia at all times until the time was right. It was a good thing they aren’t together anymore. 

“I’m really sorry if he caused you any kind of pain, I know how much of a bully he used to be. Despite the fact that he cheated on me, he was a shit head and only showed his feelings through anger which I fucking hated. I had to get the fuck away from his ass.” Nia explained before drinking the rest of her milkshake. Jaewon felt sorry for her, and he knew it was his duty to treat her right for as long as he could. 

“What matters now is you and I moving forward.” Jaewon smiled.

“Of course.”

[nopenototdaysatan]

My Grief Stands Before Me

(Whumptober Day 11: Seeing Double -Legend & Four)

TW: Grief, Hallucinations, references to Palace of the Four Sword, referenced MCD

Shink. Steady and monotonous. The smithy is at it again. And yet…Out of the corner of my eye, I see a four like figure with shadows smoking from their green tunic. A smirk on their face like they hold all of the cards As their sword is sharpened over and over.

I can see four and wind choosing chaos Right in front of me. So, then why do I hear a grating but bell-like laugh behind me. Looking behind me I see them Another figure, this time in Red. A dark goop like lava sliding from their mouth in between giggles.

The adrenaline of battle keeps me on my feet Sky has my back and four is close by. Everything is as it should be till Another one! Every once in a while I catch a glimpse Of a Blue figure walking among the battle Calling out misleading advice as his fists drip darkness.

Again and Again they appear! Can I take any more guilt for what I did? I was just a Child! How was I supposed to know?!?

It’s another sleepless night, fiddling with my rings And trying to keep myself calm when. I. Hear. It. A hmph of displeasure, looking over at my worst nightmare. Four reading peacefully while almost his twin just in purple reads behind him. Shadowy ash falling from his violet eyes and onto a green headband. For only a moment the doppelganger looks up With the most pleased smile on his face,

“Murderer”, he says.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-One

Words: 3.6K

Warning(s): explicit language, sexual situations, mentions of drug abuse

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I pour dog food into Whisky's bowl, hearing his little paws smack against the floor as he rushes into the kitchen, his collar rattling and his excited panting greeting me when I feel his tongue licking at my arm.

"Good morning." I say to him, patting at his head before he starts eating. 

Once he's finished I'm picking him up as  Nikki comes in, scratching another thing off his to-do list. 

When he steps by me I grab at his hand to stop him and he shakes his head. 

"Nah, I don't need dog hair on me, babe." He grins, dodging me and I follow him. 

"But, daddy, look at this cute little face." I hold the puppy out to him, giving my best puppy dog eyes and Nikki raises a brow. 

"Whisky, tell mommy she can't call me 'daddy' because it'll make me wanna do stuff to her that I don't have time to do right now." He warns, grabbing his packed suit case. 

"We're about to leave for a couple months, Nikki, and he'll be at obedience school. At least hold him for a minute so he won't forget we love him." I suggest and Nikki blinks at me. "I'll give you a blowjob on the way to the airport." I add. 

"Aww, boy, am I gonna miss you!" He takes the happy little Whisky from me and holds him, kissing at his head and calling him a "good boy." "Viv, he's gonna be the best lookin' little stud muffin in that place." He tells me. 

"Speaking of which, maybe they'll figure out a way to combat the humping." I say and Nikki looks at me.

"We're not getting him fixed."

"Are we going to breed him or something?" 

"No, I just don't wanna take his balls, Viv. He's a man's man. He's a good boy. Not a good 'kinda/sorta' boy." 

"He's gonna be more prone to hump anything and everything, and pee on everything more than normal and it'll be a struggle to take him anywhere with other dogs because he'll wanna misbehave."

"Exactly, it'll be like me as a dog." He explains with a smile. "Just look at him, babe. He wants to be just like daddy." 

"Okay, well, if he isn't fixed as soon as he can be, daddy isn't allowed to even breathe the same air as mommy until he gets neutered." I take Whisky back and Nikki cuts his eyes at me. 

"You use your pussy as a like a 'get out of jail free' card anytime you want something and it's annoying." He tells me and I raise my brows. 

"If it's so annoying, why haven't you just put your foot down already?" I ask him, putting Whisky back down on the floor. 

"Because I like the fear of never getting between your legs again. It's thrilling." He jokes and I roll my eyes. 

"Shut up and pack." I chuckle, nudge at him. 

"I'm packed." He states. 

"Four shirts, two pairs of pants, and a Bowie record, isn't 'packed', Nikki." 

"It is when you have money to buy everything else when you get to your destination." He states. 

I ignore him and grab my suit case, about to pack my own stuff. 

When I come back from my closet, two of my bikinis I only wear at home are already laying in the bottom of my suitcase and I look at Nikki, picking the neon pink and bright purple bathing suits up. 

"I already told you earlier, I'm not bringing these, Nikki." I tell him. 

"Why not?"

"The top barely covers my nipples and my boobs spill out, and the bottoms aren't much better."

"But I bought those for you." He reminds me.

"And I like wearing them here, when nobody else is around." 

"At least pack them just in case." 

"Nikki--"

"--Don't argue, Viv. Trust me, you're gonna want them." He says. 

"Fine." I give in, packing them, and my more modest bikinis, before packing clothes and essentials. 

When I come back with pads and tampons, there's articles of lingerie I've never seen before.

"Nikki." I look at him, holding up a scarlett red number with ribbons that criss-cross down the back and tie in a bow where the base of my spine should go. "Are you up to something?" 

"What?" 

"What are you planning?" I ask him and he scrunches his face up. 

"Nothing, baby, I just thought you'd look pretty in that while I'm knocking your hips lose." He shrugs casually. 

"You hate me wearing lingerie while we're fooling around because it interferes with your ability to see everything." I point out.

"Just accept it. And pack it. Because you'll want it." He mumbles. 

"I know you're up to something, Sixx." I accuse him and he shakes his head. 

"No, I'm not up to anything." He denies.

"Skimpy swimsuits, expensive lingerie, sketchy phone calls with Fred...you're up to something."

"Nope. I'm just looking forward to all the time we're gonna spend together on this tour, is all." He shrugs. 

"Mhmm." I sarcastically let out, doubtfully. 

"I mean, if you wanna spend our anniversary--which lands on our day off--with the guys, our opening band, and screaming fans then that's cool, too, I guess." He shrugs. 

"Oh, shit, we have our anniversary this month?"

I might have remembered our anniversary had I been able to wear my wedding ring but it'd gone missing at that point, and I had no clue where it was. 

And neither did Nikki, honestly. 

"I'm not even gonna say anything about you forgetting our anniversary because I've secretly forgotten our anniversary and your birthday every year until someone reminded me a couple weeks in advance, so..." He smiles innocently and I raise a brow. 

Whisky's picked up a couple hours later and Nikki and I are off to the airport without a moment to waste the second our driver pulls up. 

And then the clothes come off.

We don't even notice we're at the airport until the door is flying open to reveal Fred. 

"Get dressed and c'mon, guys, we're running late." He urges as Nikki marks up my neck with his teeth, causing me to laugh at Fred's face turning red in aggravation.

He slams the door shut and I hear them open the trunk to grab our bags and I hum out, smiling when Nikki presses his lips to mine. 

"We gotta go." I breathe out, moving off of him and he groans. "We can do plenty of this in the hotel." I motion between us, buckling my bra, and he smirks. 

"...And on the plane, and on the bus on the way to the show, and backstage, and during Tommy's drum solo, and after the show." He says slyly, pressing a trail of kisses up my arm to my shoulder. 

"Exactly, so, get dressed." I mumble against his lips when he kisses me again. 

Once we're done, we get out of the car and board the plane. 

The stewardesses are gorgeous blondes, which doesn't surprise me, because if Vince has any say in what their female help looks like, they're going to be blonde. 

"Guys, we need a picture!" Tansy insists. 

"Tansy--"

"--I want one." She interrupts Fred, her blue eyes silently begging, and he gives in. 

Morbid reality was that Tansy didn't expect to live much longer, and she wanted to take as many pictures as possible for us to remember her by.

No one really expected Nikki to live much longer, either, of course they never told me that until it was obvious he was crashing.

Once we get the picture taken and take off, it only takes ten minutes before Tommy and Nikki are snorting zombie dust like it's pixie stick powder, and demanding alcohol. 

"You guys need to stay as sober as possible for the show!" Doc argues when Nikki calls him an "asshole" for not giving him a whole bottle of whiskey. 

"We'll be fine like we always are, man, just fucking--"

"--Nikki, please, sit down." I gently tug at his arm when he stands as if he's about to march to Doc and start throwing punches. 

He just glares down at me. 

"Please, baby." I ask him, really, really not wanting to deal with a messed up Nikki Sixx before their show even begins. 

He just stares at Doc before plopping back down beside me, lingering in and out of focus. 

As if it can't get any worse, when we land, there's a slew of groupies waiting in the airport. 

Which we only realize this when we're in their sight and they start in out of nowhere. 

And, of course, ignoring Fred's orders--made from the motivation to keep the guys protected and out of trouble, which is why they hired him--Tommy and Vince gladly accept every single woman throwing herself at them, from the comfort of the bathroom. 

The "Girls, Girls, Girls" tour was nicknamed the "Airport Blowjob Tour" because at every airport we came to, and I mean literally every airport, groupies were like Hornets swarming the place with all the motivation in the world to simply blow the band. 

A few of them would make multiple trips to multiple airports, following the guys wherever city they flew to. 

I admired their passion. 

Some of them were more dedicated to trying to blow my husband than I was. 

Which said a lot because I was pretty dedicated. 

"It's hot as satan's balls out here." Nikki groans when we step off the tour bus after leaving the airport. 

"We're in the middle of Arizona, babe." I remind him. 

He just looks at me from behind his sunglasses. 

"What?" I ask as we head to the hotel's building. 

"Nothing." He shakes his head, opening the door to the lobby, letting me walk in first. 

Doc gets everyone checked in, before I'm getting a shower and getting ready for tonight while Nikki and Tommy dick around. 

By the time we all meet at bus to head to the venue, Fred's got the backstage IDs ready for the road crew and Tansy and I. 

"Here." Fred puts the lanyard over my head with my picture on it, under it reading "Vivian, 6½".

"Thank you." I tell him, climbing in to see Nikki already sitting down, bottle of Jack in his hand as he hands Tommy a lighter for his cigarette.

I'm slightly startled, feeling Vince suddenly throw his arm around me, causing me to stop in my tracks.

"I want a drink. I'm gonna hide in the bathroom and you're gonna sneak it to me." He tells me in my ear and I look at him.

Before I can say, "hell no", I can tell he's desperate. 

"Please, Viv. My nerves are eating me alive right now and I can't drink anything without them jumping on me about it." He nods to Nikki and Tommy who aren't paying attention in the slightest. 

"Vince--"

"C'mon, move it." Doc nudges at Vince's back to get us to hurry up and sit down so he can get by. 

"Fine, gimme a couple minutes." I mumble to Vince before walking to Nikki, sitting down beside him. 

Vince goes to the bathroom, and Emi and Donna sit in front of me and Nikki as Mick sits with Tommy.

Within a few minutes, I'm actively attempting to slyly sneak Nikki's bottle of Jack back to the bathroom after Nikki abandons it to comment on this month's issue of Hustler Magazine with Tommy. 

I tuck the bottle into my purse, well...the best I can, at least. 

"Baby, can you let me out so I can go use the bathroom." I sweetly ask Nikki, and he doesn't even look at me as he responds: "Sure, babe" and stands up, pointing at a girl in the magazine and going "there's no way she's actually able to do that, that's gotta be edited", and I roll my eyes. I wish he wouldn't look at magazines like that, but it's a lost cause if I try to ask him not to, so I just ignore it the best I can and try to tell myself he doesn't look at them because I'm not good enough or something. 

He just looks at them because guys just like looking at naked girls in explicit positions. 

By the time I get to the bathroom, Vince is snatching the bottle from me as I lock the door behind me, crossing my arms in the small bathroom as he takes a long drink of it. 

"You're welcome." I state to him, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Did I thank you?" He smartly asks and I raise my brows. 

"Umm, you should. I'm risking getting an earful from Nikki if he finds out I'm giving his singer--who's on a court mandated sobriety streak--liquor." I blink at him and he rolls his eyes. 

"Oh, please, if he or Tommy were in my shoes they would've put sobriety aside two weeks after it was in place and never would have looked back." He scoffs out. 

I don't argue because it's true. 

"Be nice." Is all I say and he looks at me pointedly. 

"C'mon, Viv, you know it's true. And if it were one of them that got in that wreck with Razzle, and they got caught drinking afterward, nobody would blink an eye because they're Nikki and Tommy."

"Vince, that's not true." I try to tell him.

"Whatever Nikki says, goes. Whatever Nikki wants, he gets. He's the one that put the band together which means his say is the final say, and same with Tommy because he's close with Nikki and Nikki backs him up." 

I can't say anything. 

"And you're not even arguing because you know as well as everyone else that it's true. It's Nikki and Tommy and nobody else fucking matters. Certainly not the washed up singer that nearly killed their careers." 

He hands me the bottle back and I rub my lips together. 

"Thanks." He mumbles before sliding past me to open the door and leave. 

I put the lid back on the bottle and hide it back in my purse before I go back to Nikki and put the bottle back, undetected, my mind reeling over what Vince said. 

It was clear there was a disconnect between Nikki, Tommy, and Vince after Razzle died, and it just got worse and worse as the years went by.

Tommy and Nikki, notorious "Terror Twins" got into more shit than anyone else around us, combined. 

The deepest shit Vince got into was that wreck, and after that he quit a majority of his bullshit on making life for everyone around him, difficult by acting up, and just started moving in silence. 

He'd have his petty moments, but for the most part, he would lay low and leave Tommy and Nikki to raise hell and embarrass the band and their team. 

I could tell he was bothered by the fact that he made a mistake that Nikki or Tommy had a higher chance of making at the time, and because of that, he was kicked out of their little club. 

And the fact that Tommy and Nikki got away with absolutely everything, got to him the most. 

I admit, Vince should have served more time for the Razzle tragedy, but he still had to live knowing Hanoi Rocks was no more, knowing he let fans down, knowing he gutted Razzle's friends, family, band and fans, and knowing--although accidental--he was partly to blame for one of his friends' deaths. 

But Nikki and Tommy didn't give a fuck what they did, who they did it to, why they did it, how they did it, or whether they meant to do it or not. 

And they didn't care because they would always get away with it. 

Always. 

Vince was tempted to tell me about Vanity, but decided not to because he didn't want to hear shit from Nikki, but also because he'd rather me find out from a place of genuine concern. 

Not just him blurting it to me in order to spite Nikki and finally make sure there was something he didn't get away with doing. 

My lips pull into a wide grin as I cover my mouth before a loud shriek can fall past my lips and alert everyone outside the bathroom of the venue, what's going on in here. 

Nikki continues to slide his hot, warm tongue against my clit as I grind in rhythm with his mouth. 

Just as I'm about to come, someone's banging on the door. 

"C'mon, guys!" It's Fred. "Nikki, you're on in, like, two minutes!"

"Got it!" I reply for him, being that his mouth is busy, and Nikki just grins up at me, causing my third orgasm to begin to build. 

"Nikki, dude, we gotta go!" Tommy calls from the other side of the door. 

Just as I'm coming, the door is unlocked with Fred's key, and I'm too shell shocked to try to get away from Nikki. 

We both just look at Doc, Fred, and Rich Fischer, who are nearly fuming. 

"Fred, what the fuck is wrong?" Nikki snaps as I pull my dress back down, my face burning bright red as I try to fix my hair and my lipstick, and ignore my cum running down my legs. 

"You're about to be late for your first show of this tour over some pussy, that's what the fuck is wrong. Get out there." Doc snaps at him. 

"Wait." I say, taking my crucifix off, handing it to him. 

He takes it with a sly little grin, looking at me before clasping it around his neck for good luck on the first show. 

"Thanks, Viv." He tells me, kissing my cheek before he heads to stage. 

I follow after him, but Doc grabs at my arm, gently, to stop me. 

"What?" I ask him, still embarrassed from earlier. 

"You're not going to be too big of a distraction, are you?" He asks me and I raise my brows. 

"Excuse me?"

"Anytime he's late, Vivian, it's either linked to you or heroin, and he's off smack so he's gonna be onto you more." He explains. 

"We've been married for four years, Doc, and I've never been a 'distraction'. What the hell are you talking about?" I ask. 

He just lets out a breath. 

"Just don't let this happen again." He tells me and I exhale, rolling my jaw. 

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again." I assure him, feeling like I've just been scolded by my freaking mother.

"Good." 

Did I mention that Mötley was in their prime and Doc was considerably paranoid of someone throwing a wrench in the machine that was Mötley Crüe? 

Once the show is finished, the guys are given masks for hyperventilation, their sweaty, liquor purging bodies slumped.

After they calm down, it starts. 

"Alright, where we going?" Tommy asks Nikki, punching lightly at his shoulder as Vince is about to get a shower to get the sweat off of him. 

"Strip club, probably." Nikki pants out, drinking a bottle of water in 20 seconds, handing it to me when he's finished. "What about you, Mick, you coming this time?" Nikki asks him and Mick shrugs. 

"Doesn't really matter to me." He states.

"Guys, you want food?" Fred offers, sticking his head in the dressing room. 

"Yes." We all say and he chuckles. 

"Alright, we're on it." He assures us.

"You're not getting a shower?" I ask Nikki and he shakes his head. 

"Nope." He replies and I wrinkle my nose. 

"As long as you shower before you get in the bed with me." I say to him and he smirks. 

"There's two beds in the room." He reminds me. 

I blink at him, blankly. 

"Don't even play like that." I tell him and he chuckles. 

"Don't be a baby, Sixx." He says as he nudges at me and I exaggeratingly move away from him. 

"No, stop." I try to hide my smile as he just gets closer to me again, so I move some more, only causing him to follow. "Nikki, chill out." I say, seeing the look in his eyes: he's up to no good. "Nikki, don't!" 

He's suddenly tugging me into his lap, his sweaty, soaked clothing pressing to my back, causing me to squeal as he tickles at my sides, and I scream out in laughter as I get that nostalgic feeling I felt when I realized I first loved him, and would rather die than go without being with him forever. 

We weren't arguing, we weren't trying to hurt each other, we were getting closer and closer to how we were when we first got married. 

There was no heroin, there was no blatant meanness...we were just starting to learn to be in love with each other again.

I, completely overlooking blatant signs and red flags, figured, "we made it through his heroin addiction, we're making it through fame and public scrutiny, we're getting stronger and stronger and back to normal...mom was wrong, and we can handle anything."

And that was the problem: I felt too fucking secure. 

Hearing and knowing about all these rockstars cheating on their significant others, and I felt prideful that Nikki might've been an asshole, but he'd never do such a thing to me. 

I was beginning to have an arrogance about it.

And that's the thing about us when we get arrogant: God, or the universe, or Karma--whatever we believe--humbles us. 

And I thought all of them had gotten together and made a plan to humble me to absolute hell. 

[littledemondani]

broken promises | michael langdon x fem!reader

Warnings: hawthorne!michael, witch!reader, daddy kink, s m u t (unprotected, rough), oral (female receiving), orgasm denial, slight edging, cum eating

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Michael makes up for breaking a promise to you, in more ways than just one.

A/N: Hey lovelies, so this fic was supposed to be a Michael x Dark!Reader, but that quickly changed after rewriting the beginning. There’s not really much plot to this at all, just some self-indulgent smut. I hope you guys enjoy it <3 xoxo

(gif: @codyfernsource)

You had been waiting for what felt like hours for your boyfriend, Michael Langdon, to meet you in your dorm room. “I’ll be there as soon as class ends at 3, and don’t get any ideas of touching yourself before I get there.” With a nod of your head and a sweet, “I promise I won’t.” You agreed to obey his one rule. The time was now 3:35pm and Michael was nowhere to be found. Just great.

Annoyed as all hell, you call him, ready to give him an earful of how pissed off and irritated you were. There were only a handful of things that could upset you, and not being punctual was one of them, and Michael knew this. The phone rang and rang then went to his voicemail. Beyond frustrated you hung up and threw your phone on the bed with a huff.

Your mind starts to wander and think maybe he got held up by Behold, that man did like to talk someone’s ear off. Or maybe he went to his room to grab some items (anal plug, vibrator, handcuffs) for the promise he made to you earlier.

Earlier that morning you had walked into your first class wearing a short red plaid skirt, a black fitted button-up with the sleeves rolled to your elbows (and unbuttoned to show off a little cleavage), fishnet stockings, and black Doc Martens. Michael tried to ignore the stares the other warlocks gave you (while also trying to hide his growing erection). It’s not that Michael didn’t like you wearing outfits like that, it was more so the attention you got when you did. The unwanted attention from the warlocks who cat-called and undressed your body with their eyes.

Michael could hear their thoughts, could hear how they wanted to get between your legs, have you on your knees for them, cover you in their cum, make you scream out their name. It sickened him, made him want to slaughter every one of them and erase their souls from this world. You were more than just the “hot bitch with a nice ass” and it took Michael a while to figure that out.

(Before you started dating, you and Michael were frenemies with benefits. You both openly showed your distaste for one another, him telling you the only thing you were good for was being on your knees with his cock in your mouth, and you saying his ego was bigger than his dick. Yet behind closed doors, you both screamed sang praises to each other.)

When class was over Michael waited until everyone had cleared from the hallway to push you up against the wall, placing both hands on each side of your face and putting his knee between your legs. “You think you can come to class looking like that and not expect it to have some effect on me?” He rolled his hips into you, letting you feel how hard he had gotten from just looking at you.

You looked up at him with big doe eyes, feigning innocence that you didn’t know it would have any effect on him (but you knew damn well it would, and you hoped he would react this way). “See that’s where I know you’re lying, Y/N.” He bounced his thigh up hard, catching you off guard and making you yelp. “Did you forget that I know every thought that crosses that pretty little head of yours?” He taunts, brushing a stray strand of your hair away from your face.

You tried to control your breathing, tried to keep from grinding your hips down onto his leg, but Michael's close proximity and the scent of his cologne were driving you crazy. “Answer me, Y/N, don’t make me ask you again.” His voice is stern, bringing one hand to tilt your chin up to look at him, quirking his eyebrow.

“I- I knew what it would do,” you confessed shakily. “I want you so bad, Daddy.” 

A sly grin spread across Michael's face. “Awww angel, you know all you have to do is ask if you want Daddy’s cock. But it looks like now you’re gonna have to wait until classes are done for the day.” You let out a needy whine, and shamelessly grind down on his thigh. “Pleease Daddy, I need you noowww.”

“Go to your room after your last class is over. I’ll be there as soon as class ends at 3, and don’t get any ideas about touching yourself before I get there. You won’t be able to walk once I’m done with you, and that’s a promise.”

Finally getting fed up with waiting, you swing your door open and take off to go look for him. You head in the direction of his room, hoping that he would be in there or you were literally going to strangle him. 

Rounding the corner of the hallway you hear Madison’s laugh echoing loud, your eyes automatically rolling into the back of your head. Everything was great while she was still in hell, then Michael brought her back just to prove a point to Cordelia and she was back to being the same annoying bitch you remembered. 

She finally comes into view, but you quickly realize that she’s not alone - in fact, your loving boyfriend is there with her; with his back up against the wall and her dainty hand on his chest, giving him her best bedroom eyes. Your nostrils flare and your lip curls, this fucking bitch has the audacity to hit on your boyfriend when she knows you’re together? Not today, Satan.

You march up behind her and yank her away from Michael by her hair, practically dragging her on the floor. “Let me go, you crazy bitch!” She tries to get out of your grip but you tighten it. You throw her onto the floor, placing your foot on her neck. “Stay away from Michael or I’ll slice your goddamn throat,” you seethe. She chokes out what you think is a, “okay okay I will fuck!”

“You better, bitch.” You take your foot off and walk back to Michael. You’re about to give him a piece of your mind when he cuts you off and explains what happened: that she stopped him on his way to your room and refused to let him leave until she got what she wanted (to blow him or something?)

Of course, she would, but you’re still pissed that he left you waiting for over 30 minutes (and you weren’t going to let him get away with that). “Well Langdon, it looks like you have some apologizing to do,” you smirk, grabbing him by his maroon tie, and pulling him back to your room.

//

You’re laying down on your back, head propped up on your pillows, legs spread wide, with Michael's pink, plump lips attached to your clit. This was his idea of apologizing and you were in no way complaining. He had already pulled 2 orgasms out of you and was currently going for a third.

He softly sucked on your swollen clit, knowing you are still sensitive from the first two times you came. Small whimpers leave your spit slick lips, bottom lip puffy from biting down on it. Michael parts your lips, bringing a finger to play with your juices. “Fuck,” he murmurs. “You’re so fucking wet for me baby.”

“Mm, Michael..please,” desperation laced in your voice.

“Oh my sweet angel, you take what I give you or you don’t get anything at all. Do you understand?” He cooed. You whine in defeat, the last thing you want is Michael to leave you a soaked, unsatisfied mess. “Yes Daddy, I understand.” 

“Good girl.” He continued licking stripes up your dripping pussy, lapping at your arousal as it seeped from your entrance. His cock is hard and aching in his boxers, begging to be released from its confines. He tries to ignore it as he flicks his tongue around your clit, tries to focus on the pretty sounds coming from your mouth. You’re so close, he can sense it, can feel it in the way your moans get louder and higher, how you pull him closer to you by his messy blonde hair, how you start bucking your hips against his face, how your walls contract around his fingers.

You’re right on the edge, so close to having that blissful sensation pass in waves through your body when Michael pulls away. A sob escapes your lips, your fists bunching up the sheets, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You lift your head to see why he denied you that sweet euphoria.

He’s taking off the remainder of his clothing, pushing his boxers down his legs and tossing them somewhere on the floor. He needs to be inside you, needs to feel the warmth of your cunt surrounding his aching cock.

“W-what was that for?!”

He grabs his neglected cock by the base, hissing at the touch. “I want to feel you cumming on my cock,” he grunts as he flips you over on your stomach and hoists your ass in the air. 

You let out a surprised yelp, bracing your hands on either side of your face. He runs the tip through your wet folds, “Are you ready for me?” 

“Mhmm,” you nod.

He runs the head over your clit one last time, before slamming himself inside of you, without letting you get adjusted to his size. You let out a strangled scream, the feel of your walls stretching causes a burning sting. He pulls his cock all the way out, leaving just the tip in before slamming himself back inside you.

As painful as it feels, you fucking love the way Michael's cock makes you feel so deliciously full. No matter how many times you fuck it always feels like the first time all over again. 

He stops fucking into you, placing his hands on your hips and digging his fingers into your skin. He pushes you forward on his cock then slams you back onto him. He does this a few times before you lift your chest off the mattress and try to do it yourself.

“Go ahead angel, fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock.” he bites his bottom lip.

You place your elbows on the mattress and start bouncing your ass, practically twerking on his cock. “Oh fuck,” Michael gasps, running a hand over your ass before spanking you hard.

He takes back control, gripping your hips harshly and snapping his hips into you. Your whole body feels like it’s fire, you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, can feel a new wave of arousal dripping from your pussy, down your thighs, and onto the mattress. Your moans turn to screams when Michael grabs you by your hair and pulls you up flush against his chest, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot with this new angle.

Michael feels your walls starting to flutter around him, wrapping a hand around your throat. “Don’t fucking cum yet. Not until I tell you to,” he growls into your ear. 

“Daddy I-I don’t think I can wait,” you mewled, your body still on the edge from earlier. 

“You can, and you will,” he said sternly. “You don’t want to upset Daddy now, do you angel?” 

“No no no.” You frantically shake your head, desperate to focus on anything else to keep your orgasm at bay. Michael chuckles darkly, reaching a hard around you to circle at your clit.

‘This fucking asshole,’ you think to yourself. Michael was always one to tease you, to force you into disobeying him when he tells you to do something, he loves it - loves to break people’s wills. You bite down hard on your lower lip until you taste blood, trying to focus on the pain and metallic taste.

But Michael is close, you can tell when his thrusts start getting sloppy when he loses the grip on your throat. He won’t tell you to cum, not just yet, not until he can no longer hold back his own orgasm.

You’re brought back to the present by a sharp tug on your hair. Michael is grunting in your ear, the sweet sounds going straight to your throbbing pussy. Your walls clench around him again, but this time Michael pushes you down onto the bed and pounds into you with no mercy.

You grab a fistful of the sheets in your hands, squeezing until your knuckles turn white. Every nerve ending is on fire and it feels like you can’t breathe. You need to cum so bad it hurts, but you won’t dare disobey Michael.

He can’t hold back anymore, his thrusts losing complete rhythm. “Cum angel, cum all over Daddy’s cock.”

The tightened band in your lower abdomen breaks and you cum with a loud choked out sob. Your vision goes black as the pleasure ripples throughout your body, your hearing going fuzzy. The feeling of your cunt wildly pulsing around Michael's cock sends him over the edge, painting your walls with hot ropes of cum.

He stills for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Looking down to where you’re still connected, he brings his fingers to catch a mixture of your cum that’s leaking out of your pussy. He places his fingers in front of your lips which you happily wrap around him. You moan at the taste, sucking and licking his fingers clean. 

His cock twitches at the sight of you, “That's my good girl, suck everything off babygirl.” 

He removed his fingers from your mouth with a wet ‘pop’ sound. Slowly he pulls out of you and lays down next to you. You both stay that way for who knows how long. When your breathing finally returns to normal you try to get off the bed. Your legs shake beneath you, causing you to fall back down on the bed.

Michael laughs as he watches you try and fail, yet again, to get up.

“What?” You snap at him.

He looks at you for a moment, debating if he should even say anything.

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to walk when I was done with you, and I always keep my promises, babe.”

//

tagging:  @fckinsupreme @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @wroteclassicaly @ms-mead @lovelylangdonx @hecohansen31 @mega-combusken @1-800-bitchcraft @dvncans @lvngdvns @lathraios @goddess-of-inferno @langdonsdemon @venusxxlangdon @snixxvalo99 @rocketgirl2410

[werezmastarbucks]

tapes

kai parker series

tape 4-5/23

tape one tape two tape three

words: 1567

warnings: Joshua is a crap dad. cursing

TAPE FOUR

It’s twins’ birthday. Have they changed the wallpaper yet? Who knows, we’re in the living room. Everybody’s very excited. They turn five which means a very important year for the coven… but to them, this world is all important and unbelievably worth exploring. Kids this little don’t understand responsibility or duty yet, all they know is each other, food, mother’s voice, and funny moving pictures on the screen. There are many people in the room, again, all basking them in attention. So many pairs of expecting eyes turned to them, observing their every move like vultures, feeding on their confusion, and consuming the energy from their puffy pink and dark blue ribbons and dresses, questioning, discussing, pondering. Kai has his little arms around his sister, pressing quick fake kisses on her face just like mama and papa do. Josette is busy trying to pull the tablecloth from under all the dishes. It’s evening, and the kids finally sit still: everybody’s happy that hyperactive Malachai found solace in examining how strong Josette’s bones are. It’s like they know. It’s like they know about the merge, and they look at each other and consider which one of them will go down. But of course not, in reality they were probably thinking, why does it smell so funny and why is Aunt Aileen crying non-stop? Her facial features are twisted, that indicates she’s sad. Why is everybody else laughing then? However… you know what, I’m not sure they were even thinking that. I have very little knowledge of what the kids think about because I myself was never one.

Anyway, then we can see a big gap, and the picture changes. It’s present time – the best time of the day! Kai’s on his father’s, the coven leader’s, lap, Jo is sitting with her mum. All the chatter, laughter, glass sounds, and the big and small boxes float above the table. Parents unwrap the presents and announce: a toy! A dress! Josette gets about four or five dresses and Kai gets none. But he does get a pair of silk pants, a book of spells – his first – and even a dead bird. A DEAD BIRD! That’s one of the best presents you can get being a witch. You take the beak and use it in making potions… the feathers go on dream catchers, eyes – for blinding spells, and legs can be edible…

Okay, I’m pulling your leg, no witch really needs a dead bird, even a raven – it’s gross. Kaylo Perkins is just old and insane. He’s a slave of old religion and a big Satan fan. Dead bird goes into the bin right after the dinner, and Malachai screams properly about it, for like twenty minutes, because he enjoyed it.

They both get golden chains with the symbol of Gemini coven, and sets of toys. Josette gets her books on how to be a good girl (spoiler alert: she’ll never be). Malachai gets a mirror in silver frame from his mother – she talks to dead people through it. And a ring from his father that Joshua takes off his finger right then, and puts it on the chain. Everybody cheers. The favoritism in this family is so obvious you can write your messages in the sky.

“Say thank you!” Martha smiles to her children. Kai and Jo say ‘tha-ank you’ in unison and everybody goes ahh.

TAPE FIVE

We’re again in the Parker living room, like it’s a cheap sitcom with only limited amount of locations. You can hear somebody crying somewhere upstairs, but it’s more like a childish whine, the ‘he stole my teddy bear’ type. You know, if they only took Kai to a normal human doctor, that would all be so much easier, and they would tell them, well, there’s something wrong with this kid for sure. Joshua knows that already, but the mama Parker gave birth to this boy and she refuses to label him anything but genius, because he’s also so good-looking. Kai’s sitting on the couch and by the looks of it he’s around six or seven and he’s glued to the screen of a little television that’s in front of him.

“Kai, say what you’ve done”, a voice tells him behind the camera. We can also see Martha Parker walking slowly on the background, and she’s heavily pregnant.

Kai doesn’t react. His eyes don’t move and it’s like he doesn’t even breathe. When this boy isn’t watching TV, he’s talking about all the heroes and characters that he saw in the movies.

“Kai, what have you done?”

This is not his father’s voice; it belongs to a teenage girl we don’t know. Who is she?

“Ka-a-ai”, she utters. Her voice is annoying. The boy is sitting on the couch and watching TV, as if not seeing her. His face changes though: he hears something. In a second, we will hear it too.

Papa Parker rushes down the stairs so quick it looks like a flash. The camera shudders, the camera person takes a step back and bumps into something, gasping in pain. The picture is there, though. It’s like looking at a car crash.

Joshua’s face is twisted with anger, his eyes are black like blueberries. He runs to the couch where his son is sitting so fast you can’t really cope. Little Kai stands on the pillows, trying not to be caught off guards…

“You little monster!” Joshua groans as he grabs the boy by his shoulders and lifts him in the air.

Martha runs to them from the background. The living room is full of noise now. Kai is yelling.

“Dad, no, please!”

“Joshua, let him go!”

“He’s been draining her again!”

“Dad, I didn’t mean it! Please!” Kai is screaming in pain as his father is shaking him, then crashes him back down on the sofa pillows again. Martha keeps one hand on her big belly as she tries to pull her husband away. The tragedy is imminent at this point, and the girl holding the big camera whimpers really quietly, not sure what to do. The couch armset covers Malachai, but we can see his little arms fighting his father as he nearly chokes the kid. Way to go, coven leader! You gotta do what you gotta do. When a concerned parent brings their child to a doctor – not back then, of course, but now, when we do have technology to tell – the doc might say terrible things. Like, well, your child is definitely not okay. He wets his bed although he is old enough to understand, and he kicked Clementine in her stomach seeing that the dog is pregnant. It’s like… he’s projecting? Imagine the doctors in the late 70s saying shit like that. No, back then you didn’t go to a doctor for advice when your kid started acting out, breaking plates and keeping silent or screaming for fifty minutes straight. You better lay him down on the couch and give him a good beating so that he remembers he can’t assault his sister and watch TV all night long, and keep all the knives under his bed. Mama needs the knives to cook food. You take your darn kid by the neck and put him in the closet, make him the closet boy. Nevermind his wailing, and pleading, and crying, snot coming out of his nose and tears wetting the collar of shirt; he can’t do nothing, he’s not a witch! He doesn’t have any powers, little useless shit. There was so much hope on Malachai, they all relied on him to be the future leader, looking all like his dad, tall and pretty. With his wits and quick fingers, they imagined he’d beat Jo in the merge and become the good Gemini leader. But it seems he just doesn’t have it in him, and he’s so wicked because of that. All whiney, angry and sad. And this thing that he does! Look now, he’s about to do it with his own mama!

As Martha wrestles furious Joshua away, eyes like coals, nostrils flaring like a bull’s, the woman catches Kai by his hand, though he never stops wailing like a siren. One of his little hands covers his left eye – I wonder why? He’s crying as Martha pulls him from the couch and drags him towards the stairs.

“Go into your room and stay there”, she’s trying to outcry him, but it’s almost in vain.

“No, it’s dark! It’s dark, mum, I don’t want to be in my room, please!”

“Go into your room!” thunders Joshua. Kai’s shoulders shudders and he does it. Martha suddenly cries out, a look of shock on her face, and then kneels down on the floor as Kai keeps screaming. Joshua rushes to them and breaks their clutch, pushing the boy away. He nearly falls but manages to stay on his feet. His hand is still opened, he catches the air and breathes in deeply, his face slightly pinker, slightly more open, lighter. His eyes become a little more peaceful. As Joshua crutches over his very, very pregnant wife, he realizes: as soon as the father looks up, he’s fucked. So Kai runs away under the stairs and down into the basement. As if it’s not dark enough.

Phew! Disaster avoided. Josette is still crying upstairs. Camera is still rolling, the girl behind it breathing heavily. Well, that’s awkward.                    

[prettyyoungandbored]

You and I {DouglasBooth!Nikki Sixx Chapter Six

Pairing: DouglasBooth!Nikki Sixx x Reader 

Summary:There was a time when all Y/N and Nikki had were themselves and Nikki’s dreams of creating the next great band. What happens when the dream comes alive?

Taglist: @fandomshit6000 @cosmicsskies @tashy-bear@versaceismehoe@thissongitsaboutyou@prettysureimgayxo @divaanya @yoinks-i-dont-feel-so-good @evrsncnewyork @technicallyvirtualmilkshake @keepcalm-and-beyou @itsametaphorbriansblog @tarahell @scarecrowmax @queen-introvert

A/N: Sorry this chapter is late - my puppy has been sick the past couple days and has been in need of some extra loving today. He’s all good now though. This chapter is going to be a little shorter, but I promise next chapter will really get shit moving. Also, I had to make some changes from stuff that happened in the movie. I hope you guys understand. As for the taglist, if I missed you PLEASE do not hesitate to let me know! I am trying to keep a list going and I’m trying to be as organized as possible and want to include everyone who wants to be tagged!

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One Year Later...

“Mötley Crüe, no strangers to controversy, are under fire once again for their latest Satanic song ‘Shout at the Devil’. The group brushed off the accusations, claiming it’s shout at the devil, not with the devil. Parents, be warned, the group continues to play the song on tour with the Prince of Darkness himself.” 

Y/N shut off the television and took another bite of her toast. “It’s amazing what selective hearing can do to a person, let alone a group of people. What’s even funnier is that they don’t realize they’re the inspiration behind it.”

Doc, sitting across from her at the table, chuckled. “You got them talking which is good not just for the band but for you.” He glanced over his shoulder, as if to check something. “Don’t tell Nikki, but I’ve got offers from other record labels wanting you to write for them.” 

“Won’t Elektra be pissed?” she questioned, reaching for her coffee mug. 

He waved his hand. “They’ll live. Besides, it’s not like you signed a contract to write for them exclusively, right?” 

She shrugged. “I’m not sure to be honest. I know Nikki fought for me to get paid for helping them write songs but that’s it.” 

“I’ll have Tom send me a copy to look over. In the meantime, you should consider it.” 

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and wiped her hands. “Humor me for a moment - what do you get out this? This whole you taking an interest in me. What’s in for it you?” 

Doc made a face. “I’ve been a manager for many years. I’ve watched talented people make mistakes and ruin what could’ve been a great career for them. I’m tired of seeing it and I don’t want to see it happen to the boys and I don’t want to see it happen to you. You walked by a group of people burning some records and calling rock n roll the devil. You took what you saw, took their words, took their emotions and put into a song - a goddamn rock ‘n roll, heavy metal song. One that is currently causing people to feel something - good or bad. That’s a gift you shouldn’t waste.” 

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile. She couldn’t remember the last time someone other than Nikki or the boys showed interest in her work. 

“Also,” Doc began clearing his throat, “you and I are gonna be on the road together a lot and I have feeling we’ll be teaming up to tame the hooligans.” 

She laughed and nodded. “I do have experience in handling drunk Nikki and will be happy to give you tips.”

“I’ve seen enough shit to know how to handle drunk musicians with dark pasts.” 

Y/N tilted her head. “Nikki is not like other artists. Believe me.” 

Doc sighed. “I won’t argue that.” He paused. “You ready for the concert tonight? First one of the tour.” 

The release of the “Shout at the Devil” album made Mötley Crüe a household name. Suddenly, it wasn’t just LA that wanted a piece of them - the world wanted them. Tonight marked the first night of their tour and it was to take place at the Forum. 

She grinned, taking another bite of toast. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Hours later and Y/N found herself rubbing Tommy’s back as the kid puked into the trash can in his dressing room.  

“Fuckin’ shit,” he grumbled. 

Just as Y/N grabbed a water bottle to hand to him, Tommy grabbed a beer bottle. Y/N threw her hands up in the air.  “Really?”

She walked out of Tommy’s dressing room, despite his pleadings, and went into Nikki’s. Nikki had been pacing the room, but stopped when Y/N came in. 

“How’s Tommy?” he asked. 

“Still puking his guts out and yet still wants to drink beer so not terrible.” 

Nikki let out a soft chuckle. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as she came closer to him. “You alright?” 

He sighed. “Just nervous, that’s all. Feel like I’m gonna pass the fuck out or something.” 

Y/N took his hand and set him down on the couch before taking a seat beside him. Her hands gently combed through his teased, jet black hair. He put his head on her shoulder. 

“You’ve earned this,” she told him. “You’ve earned this tour, you’ve earned this recognition, you’ve earned all those thousands of people out there. This is your moment, ok?” 

“What if it all crashes and burns?” he whispered. “What if we just bomb out there and then no one likes us?” 

Y/N fought back her grin. “That’s not gonna happen and you know it.” 

He curled his head toward her. “You still gonna be there if this turns to shit?”

Her hands moved to his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His head turned towards her. “You’re my person.”

“You’re mine too.”

He leaned in and kissed her. His body turned towards her as his lips continued to attack hers hungrily. He moved on top of her before pulling his lips back. His hands moved up the hem of her little black dress. 

“What can you do in ten minutes?” he whispered. 

She grinned. “Let’s find out.

Standing backstage with minutes until showtime, Y/N, Nikki, Tommy, and Doc stood there in anticipation. Mick peeked out at the curtains and then turned them. 

“We’re gonna fucking die out there,” he grumbled as he made his back toward them. 

Nikki sighed as Y/N rubbed his arm soothingly. Just then, Tom entered. 

“Boys, on behalf of Elektra Records, I just wanna wish you good luck tonight.” He eyed around. “Where’s Vince?” 

“Just saw him in the dressing room getting ready,” Doc answered reassuringly.n

“Well this is your first big show, and there’s 18,000 people out there tonight so please don’t fuck this up.” 

Y/N would’ve killed Tom for saying that last bit, but instead she smiled. “You should look for Vince,” she suggested. 

Tom nodded and went off looking. Y/N glanced over at Nikki. “Just so happen Tom’s skanky date is also nowhere to be seen so put two and two together.” 

Nikki sighed. “I’m gonna fucking kill him. “ 

“Hey,” Doc said, “Fuck all that stuff Tom said. You guys just do what you do.”

Tommy, now excited by Doc’s words, dropped his stick. “Fuck.” 

Doc and Y/N chuckled as Nikki pushed him towards the stage. 

As Nikki and the others got set up, Doc and Y/N stood by one another. She then saw Tom come back to them with his skanky date. A few minutes later Vince, ran past them and made his way to the stage. 

“Think they’re gonna be ok?” Y/N asked Doc, worriedly. 

Just then, Tommy leaned over the rails and puked one last time. Doc chuckled. “Yeah, they will.”

Y/N then dashed to the risers and pulled Nikki away from the huddle he and the boys were in. She cradled his face in her hands and pressed her lips against his. She then pulled back. 

“Knock ‘em dead,” she mumbled, only loud enough for him to hear. 

He pecked her cheek as she ran back down to Doc. 

“You guys are SUPER cute! ” Tom’s date cooed. 

Y/N gave her a smile before whispering to Doc, “Please keep her away from me and Nikki.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, from Los Angeles, Mötley Crüe!”

The crowd went wild as the boys appeared on stage. Sparks from the stage flew out.  Vince went up to the mic as Mick played the opening chorus to “Shout at the Devil”.  

Shout shout shout

Shout shout shout It shout at the devil

He's the wolf screaming lonely in the night He's the blood stain the stage He's the tear in your eye Been tempted by his lie He's the knife in your back, he's rage He's the razor to the knife Oh lonely is our lives My heads spinnin' round and round But in seasons of wither We'll stand and deliver Be strong and laugh andShout shout shout Shout at the devil Shout shout shoutHe'll be the love in your eyes He'll be the blood between your thighs And then have you cry for more He'll put your strength to the test He'll put the thrill back in death Sure you've heard it all before He'll be the risk in the kiss Might be anger on your lips Might run scared for the door But in seasons of wither We'll stand and deliver Be strong and laugh and Shout shout shout Shout at the devil Shout shout shout Shout at the devil

Shout shout shout Shout at the devil Shout shout shout Shout at the devil

Shout shout shout Shout at the devil Shout shout shout Shout at the devil

Shout shout shout Shout shout shout Shout shout shout Shout shout shout Shout shout shout Shout shout shout

Y/N could feel tears form in her eyes as she clapped along with the rest of the audience. Nikki’s dream had come alive. 

[7-wonders]

Mad Love

Summary: A regular evening of studying takes a sick turn when the woman you always see at the grocery store kidnaps you. Things get even crazier when you find out why: to be the bride of the Antichrist.

Word Count: 2429

A/N: TW for kidnapping, mentions of blood, injury, forced marriage, Satanism. To clear something up, I headcanon that this takes place after Mead is resurrected as a robot, and probably a few months before the actual apocalypse. Look it? Hate it? Feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are always open!

The leaves of the large oak trees rustle in the chilly breeze, and you hug your jacket closer to your body. It’s late, the sky streaked with the dark blues and purples that a sunset leaves behind. Staying as close to the streetlights as possible, you pick up your pace and hustle to your car. Under normal circumstances, you never would have parked so far away from the library, or any building, but you had already been running late and the only parking spot available felt like it was a mile away (though that’s most likely an exaggeration). The once-full parking lot is now sparse, only a few cars remaining.

You’re naturally cautious, as most women your age are in the 21st century. If you hadn’t been so eager to finish your work, you would have walked out with your friends an hour ago. Instead, you waited until the library was nearly closed to realize that it was probably a good idea to get back home, and now there was nobody to walk out with. As a result, your keys are clutched between your fingers, acting as a makeshift weapon against anybody who dares to get close to you. There’s no cars parked directly by yours, and you can feel yourself relax knowing how close you are to a hot shower and a comfy bed. Hitting the button on your key fob to unlock the car, your hand stalls on the handle when you hear a car door slam.

You hurryingly slip into your own car, locking the doors behind you. When a knock sounds on your window, you jump and whip towards the noise. A woman with cropped black hair and dark painted lips waves at you through the glass, and after you get over your fright you realize it’s only the nice woman you frequently run into at the grocery store.

“Hello, Ms. Mead.” You greet politely, rolling down the window in order to speak with her.

“Sorry to scare you like that, (Y/N).”

“It’s fine, I’d rather it be you than someone with bad intentions.” She chuckles at your joke, placing her hand on the frame of the car to steady herself.

“I hate to bother you when I know you’re on your way home, but you wouldn’t have happened to see my son in the library, did you?”

“Your son?” You question, frowning slightly.

“Adopted son, actually. He came to me under difficult circumstances, and I’ve taken him in. You’ve probably seen him at the market with me: tall, he’s got shaggy blond hair, probably wearing black?”

“Oh yeah! Michael, right?” You haven’t seen him with his ‘mother’ for a few months, not since the day before that poor butcher got stabbed at the grocery store, but he must be back now. Ms. Mead smiles and nods.

“That’s him.”

“I wish I could say I’ve seen him, but I haven’t. He might’ve been in there though; I was pretty focused on my own stuff, and didn’t look around much.”

“Guess I’ll just wait around a little longer, see if he’s one of the last to come out.” You smile sympathetically, grabbing her hand in comfort.

“I’m sure he will, don’t worry. With a mom like you, he’s bound to have a good head on his shoulders.”

“Thank you, sweet girl.” Your smile falls slightly when her grip grows stronger on your hand.

“Have a good night, Ms. Mead.” You try to take your hand back, but to no avail. Ms. Mead’s other hand moves out of the corner of your eye, and before you can react you feel a sharp pinch at your neck. You hand flies up in alarm, only to meet a syringe sticking out of you. Your limbs grow heavy, and your head lolls to the side as your vision blurs. Right before you lose consciousness, you see the woman reach to unlock the car door, a wide smile still on her face.

Your bed is extremely warm today, and you groan in dissatisfaction when you realize you’re awake. Stretching your arms above your head, you relish the feeling of the silk sheets against your sore joints. Your eyes pop open in alarm once you remember that you don’t own any silk sheets. In a flash, the events that happened before Ms. Mead stabbed you in the neck with a needle flood your memory.

Scrambling up into a sitting position, you try to figure out where you are. The bed that you’re in is large, larger than any other bed you’ve ever slept in. The black silk sheets match the heavy black comforter, a black and red color scheme being utilized throughout the entire room. The lighting is dimmed, and a large inverted star in a circle hangs on the wall across from you. Your horror at your predicament only increases when you look down and see you’re not wearing the clothes you were earlier. Instead of your jeans and sweatshirt, your body’s covered in a black slip, and the same star-and-circle shape is on a pendant around your neck.

The door opens, and a woman in a cloak enters the room.

“Oh good, you’re awake! It’s funny; that little, itty-bitty amount of serum knocks a person out for quite some time.”

“Please help me, I don’t know where I am and I need to get out of here.” You plead, shifting off of the bed to grab her arm.

“You’re right where you’re supposed to be. Don’t worry, we haven’t started the fun without our guest of honor.”

“Are you gonna kill me?” You can’t stop your lip from wobbling, the only visible sign that you’re on the verge of losing it. The woman chuckles, and you flinch when she caresses your cheek.

“Oh no, no, no! Nothing like that.” She moves to the end of the bed, opening up a trunk and pulling out a garment bag. “Let’s get you dressed; he was the one who picked this out.”

“‘He?’” You question, but the woman doesn’t answer. Instead, she unzips the bag and pulls out a dress. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Something we’ve been waiting for for a very long time.” You want to fight, to scream and run, but even if you did manage to get out of this room, you don’t even know where you are right now. So you allow yourself to be dressed, watching in the mirror as the woman fawns over you. The outfit that ‘he’ picked out is a black dress that flows to your knees. A lace overlay completes the look, sleeves extending to your elbows. It’s a beautiful gown, and in any other situation you’d be obsessed with it.

Once you’re deemed ready, you’re dragged out of the room with a firm grip on your arm. You try to find anything to help you figure out where you are, but there’s no doors or windows in the hallway you’re being led down. When the large doors ahead of you open, your mouth falls. It looks like some kind of church, with pews creating an aisle down the center of the room. The seats are filled with people, all wearing the same cloaks as the woman you first encountered. The shape that’s on the pendant you’re wearing is prevalent everywhere, whether it be the fastenings on everyone’s cloaks or the giant one suspended at the head of the room. Dully, you finally recall that the shape’s a pentagram.

You’ve been so preoccupied in dissecting everything one-by-one, that it takes you a moment to actually grasp what’s at the end of this aisle. A tall, bald man with a black goatee stands at the top of the steps, holding a thick book in his hands. On the step below him stands a figure you’re familiar with--Michael Langdon, Ms. Mead’s ‘son.’

Even so, he looks different than he did when you last saw him months ago. His hair is longer, with the ends getting close to brushing his shoulders. He’s developed a sense of fashion, replacing the cut-off shirts and Doc Martens with a tailored suit and red bottoms. Even his demeanor has changed, and he stands proudly and confidently. He’s smirking at you, eyes glinting in the light of the flaming torches that line the walls.

A firm hand on your back has you stumbling forward, arms pinwheeling in front of you to attempt to regain your balance. You spin around, hoping that you can make a break for the main doors, but you’re stopped by two very large men who weren’t there before. Knowing that you’re not going to walk willingly, they each take an arm and haul you to the front of the room. Michael’s smirk widens to a smile as he faces you, but you’re sure your face is the exact opposite.

“Michael, we don’t have to do whatever’s going to happen. Just let me go, I won’t even tell the police.” You whisper frantically, searching his eyes for some sort of remorse.

“Why would I let you go now that I finally have you?” He takes your hands in his, and a shudder runs through you.

The overwhelming question that keeps running through your brain is why me? What compelled Ms. Mead to knock you out and kidnap you, and all of these people to become willing bystanders in whatever is about to happen. Maybe I should’ve just kept my head down whenever I saw him. I shouldn’t have offered him a ride home when I saw him walking in the rain, shouldn’t have told him how nice his smile was, or that he had a good taste in music. Would he still have singled me out then?

“Dear believers,” you jump at the booming voice of the man above you, and Michael strokes his thumb over your hand in what you assume is supposed to be a comforting gesture. “We are gathered here together in the presence of our Lord Satan and the souls of the damned, to witness this most unholy matrimony between the Antichrist and his dark bride.”

A shaky gasp expels itself from your lungs as you try to comprehend what’s happening. The entire situation is ludicrous, and if it weren’t for having woken up earlier you would try to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. The mere idea of being in a Satanic church, face-to-face with the fucking Antichrist who had kidnapped you in order to marry you against your will is a plot straight out of a crazy fiction novel. Unfortunately, it’s a fiction novel you’re now living in.

“‘Matrimony?’ You don’t even know me!” You hiss, attempting to rip your hands away from him. He holds you still, and draws you even closer to him.

“Oh, my darling, I know everything about you. Our souls are entwined with each other; you were made for me, sent to me by my father to be by my side.” Tears brim up in your eyes as you look out at the crowd, desperately hoping one of them will step in, put a stop to this madness, and save you. “Continue, Anton.” Michael commands.

“Michael Langdon, as the one begotten son of Satan, you are responsible with re-molding the world in His image. Of course, no one can undertake a task such as this alone, not even the Antichrist. For that, you have (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Two souls that were specially created for one another, to help support each other, to love and to cherish each other.” The man--Anton--produces a dagger from some hidden pocket in his cloak. Michael, who apparently already knows what to do, takes it from him.

“Cut my hand, (Y/N).” Michael encourages, holding the dagger’s handle towards you. “I’ll do the same to you, and this will serve as our vows.”

“What the fuck? No!” You start shaking your head in disbelief. Michael takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes. You don’t know exactly what he does, but your gazes are locked on each other no matter how hard you try to look away from him.

“Take the dagger and cut my hand.” Your movements are disconnected from your mind as you take the weapon, your muscles twitching as you attempt to gain control over your body again. The skin is easily sliced open with the smallest amount of pressure, dark droplets of blood pooling in Michael’s palm.

“How did you make me do that?” You ask, Michael gripping the dagger with his non-injured hand.

“Just a simple concilium spell; I apologize for having to use magic on you, but I promise that it’ll be worth it.” He grins, quickly slicing your own palm. You hiss at the sting of the air on your cut, Michael placing his injury against yours. The feeling of hot, sticky blood mixing together on your palm has your skin crawling. The torches flicker before going out with a whoosh, yet the room remains lit with a red glow that you can’t find the source of.

A ring appears in Michael’s hand, and before you can protest he’s slipped it on your ring finger. It’s a delicate silver band, a blood-red diamond sitting in the center of it. The cuts have both healed, dried blood being the only remaining sign that you were ever injured in the first place. Tears roll down your face while the audience cheers and the torches relight themselves.

“The vows have been completed and Satan has voiced his approval for this union. By the power vested in me by our Dark Lord, I pronounce you husband and wife.” Michael’s ecstatic at Anton’s declaration, smirking towards his loyal followers.

“May I...kiss you?” For the first time tonight, he’s hesitant. You’re completely in shock and shaking like a leaf, not even comprehending what he’s just said. Michael takes your lack of an answer as a ‘yes,’ slowly leaning in towards you and placing a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth. It’s a gentle gesture, one that doesn’t seem like Michael at all.

“M-Michael.” You stutter, tears turning to heaving sobs as the reality of this situation sets in. Michael smiles at you sadly, taking his time to kiss the drops of water off of your face.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N). You’ll learn to accept your role in the New World, just as I have.” Your chest heaves, breathing without managing to take in any air. “I love you, so much, and you’re going to love me too.”

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