#Shouldn't be surprised by some of these but I think I got every result at least once

[slut4thebroken]

Second Chances

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x reader

Summary | Emmett takes advantage of your kindness and hospitality.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, non con, emotional manipulation, praise, guilt tripping, very large age gap, painful sex, first time, breeding, crying, bro has hella trauma fr.

Words | 2.5 k

Notes | Direct result of my Emmett brain rot (Also two fics in one day??🫣)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Here you go.” You smiled, handing the steaming mug to him. 

“Thanks.” His voice was quiet as he took it from you and held it in his lap. 

“What’s your name?” You asked, sitting down next to him, hoping you weren’t intruding too much. He paused for a moment, seemingly debating if he actually wanted to make conversation with you and give you “personal” information about himself. 

“Emmett.” He finally said. 

You gave him your name and watched as his eyes dragged down your body, taking in every inch of you. With a blush, you cleared your throat and looked away for a moment to gather your thoughts. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else? Are you warm enough?” He looked over you again with a neutral expression that made you squirm a little. 

“Actually I’m still a little cold. Is there anywhere I could go that’s inside?” 

“Oh- yes! Of course.” You said quickly as you got to your feet. “My parents will be out of the house for another couple of hours so you can use some extra blankets and maybe lay down on the couch for a while.” You smiled. He didn’t return the expression as he stood up and followed you for a couple minutes until you finally walked up a porch to the front door. 

“Okay, let me just grab another blanket and then I’ll start the fire place as well.” You ran off to retrieve a blanket and when you came back, he was sitting on the couch looking around the room. 

He gave you a small “thank you” after you handed him the blanket and you could feel his eyes on you as you walked forward, then kneeled down in front of the fireplace. “You live here with your parents?” He suddenly asked, almost startling you. 

“Yeah. Since there’s three of us, we got our own place. A lot of other people had to share.” He hummed in acknowledgment and you finished up with starting the fire before turning around to face him, finding his eyes already on you. “Can I get you anything else?” 

“This is more than enough.” He said softly. 

“Okay… Well, I’ll let you rest. If you’re hungry I can try to make something?” You offered with a kind smile. 

“Actually I’d rather talk with you.” 

“Oh-” You said, eyes widening in surprise— He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would want to make small talk with a stranger. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to someone like this.” You hesitantly got up and sat down next to him on the couch. 

“Like what?” You asked curiously. 

“So loud… and about things other than survival.” His voice was still quiet, but this time there was a bit of a solemn undertone to it. 

“Oh.” You bit your lip, trying to think of what to say, but not really knowing how to approach this. “You never… had anyone to talk to about normal stuff? Surely it wasn’t all survival.” You can’t even imagine what he must have experienced. When he suddenly looked away and clenched his jaw, you realized that you might’ve over stepped. “I’m sorry, that was— I shouldn't have pried…”

“It’s fine. I had a family, but they’re gone now.” He still wasn’t looking at you. Taking one last sip from the mug, he leaned forward, then placed it on the coffee table. 

“God, I- I’m so sorry.” You said quietly. 

“It’s silly, but… I miss being able to hug them— to hug people.” He finally looked at you again, this time with a sad smile. “I remember the last time I felt someone’s touch… 11 weeks ago.” That must have been when his family died…

“Would you like a hug?” You offered nervously, hoping you weren’t too bold again. He studied you for another moment before nodding. 

“That would be really nice.” Once you had his approval, you moved closer and wrapped your arms around him, letting him do the same even though his wet clothes were starting to dampen yours. He let out a quiet breath and relaxed into the embrace. “Thank you… I’ve been so lonely.” He whispered, making you frown. 

“You won’t have to be anymore. The people here are very kind, you’ll make plenty of friends.” 

“I can tell.” His voice was a little amused now and he pulled back just enough to look at you. “If it’s not too much trouble… could I hug you a little more?” 

“Of course.” You said instantly, then let out a startled sound when he lifted you onto his lap so you were straddling his thighs. You thought he meant more as in for a longer period of time, not.. this…

“Thank you.” He said again, pulling you closer and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You were stiff for a few seconds, still trying to process this new development, but finally you relaxed into him and hugged him a little tighter. “I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like.” He whispered against your neck. 

“To hug?” You wondered, trying to understand. 

“Yes. But also the gentle touch of a woman.” A blush took over your face and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “You know, my wife… I was with her when she passed.” He said quietly. You were already dreading where this was going, not sure you could handle learning about any more of the pain he’s suffered since the start of everything. “I had a really hard time understanding and accepting this… but she said she wanted me to move on. To be happy again.” One of his arms stayed wrapped around your upper body, but the other moved a little lower, pulling you closer so your hips were also flush with his. 

“Emmett…” You said quietly, trying to pull away, but he just tightened his grip and you finally felt the bulge pressed up against your heat. You tried not to gasp at the realization.

“Shh… It’s okay. I just— You look so much like her…” You had no idea what to say. You’ve never been in a position like this before. “I’m sorry.” He suddenly pulled away and you stared down at him in confusion. “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve this. Not after everything I’ve done— everything I didn’t do.” Your lips parted, but no words could come out for a moment.  

“You deserve feeling safe and cared for. Everything you had to do was for the sake of staying alive.” At least you assumed it was. Honestly you have no idea what he’s done. “And it’s not your fault— what happened to your family. You did everything you could.” You said softly and he started shaking his head. “Yes. You can’t blame yourself, Emmett. Maybe that’s why your wife said that to you before she passed… because she knew how much you’d struggle with it.” 

“You remind me of her so much.” He said through a choked sob, making you freeze. You had no idea he’d get so emotional. Not knowing what else to do, you just pulled him back into the hug and held him tightly. “That’s exactly the kind of response she would’ve given.” He croaked. In response, you just hugged him even tighter. 

“It’s okay…” You whispered. “I’m so sorry, Emmett. No one deserves to go through what you have.” 

“It hurts.” He cried, making your heart ache for him. 

“Tell me what you need. How can I help?” You said quickly, not wanting to see him like this any longer. 

“Can I— can I kiss you?”

“What?!” You choked out, making him pull back to look at you. The tear tracks on his cheeks were far less than what you thought they’d be, but maybe they just wiped off on your dress. 

“Please. I miss her so much and… god you look exactly like her.” He whispered, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. 

“I…” You’ve never kissed anyone before. Are you really about to give it away to a stranger you just met less than an hour ago? “Emmett…”

“I know I don’t deserve it— I know. But I just… it hurts so bad, I can’t take it.” He all but whimpered, making your hesitant expression melt into something softer and more sympathetic. 

“…I’ve never kissed anyone before.” You admitted quietly and you swore his eyes darkened, but it was too hard to really tell. 

“I know I’m asking far too much of you— I know I don’t deserve your kindness,” 

“Stop saying things like that.” You frowned. “You deserve kindness, you deserve to feel loved, just like everyone else.” He stared at you for a moment, his eyes still glossy with tears, then he was suddenly leaning forward and capturing your lips in a kiss. You let out a muffled sound of surprise and brought your hands to his chest, trying to push him away. In response, he snaked his hand around your head to grasp your hair, holding you still as he moaned quietly. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled against your lips. You let out another startled sound when he suddenly threw you off of him so you were laying on your back on the couch. Before you could move away, he was crawling over you, kissing you again as his hands roamed your body. 

“Emmett-” You tried to say as you continued pushing his chest, but he was too strong. “Stop!” 

“I know.” He panted before snaking his hand down your stomach all the way to the apex of your thighs. He slipped under your dress easily and roughly cupped your sex, making you whimper. 

“Emmett, please stop.” 

“I will. I will— I just need this. I haven’t been with a woman in so long…” He whispered. “I promise I’ll be fast.” 

“Please don’t,” You whimpered, already feeling tears brimming in your eyes. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” His hand suddenly left your body to open his pants and free his cock, then he was pulling your panties to the side and lining up. 

“Please! I- I’m a..” You sobbed, trying anything to get this to stop. 

“I’ll be gentle.” He promised, then faltered and added, “At least… I’ll try to be.” When you felt the head of his cock drag through your folds, your body went completely rigid. 

“Please! Emmett, please don’t,” You cried, still trying to push him away. 

“Shh…” The blunt head of his cock was against your entrance now, pushing as hard as possible, trying to fit inside you. When he finally breached your opening, his hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your shrill scream. “Oh— fuck… I'm not gonna last.” He moaned loudly, letting his head drop down for a moment. The tears in your eyes were finally falling and you sobbed almost violently behind his hand. Your crying only got worse though when he continued pushing in. 

“Almost there.” He whispered and you let out an anguished sob in response. It felt like you were being ripped open as he continued pushing deeper, a lot farther than what you could comfortably take. “Good girl… Just a little more.” Your body was trembling from the pain and you started clawing at him, trying anything to get this to stop. But he was undeterred. When he finally bottomed out, he let out a low groan that was overshadowed by your cry of pain. 

“I know… I’m sorry. Fuck, you feel so good. Just like how she felt.” He whispered. “I think she’d be happy that it’s you.” He gave you a small smile, then slowly pulled out until only the tip was inside before forcing it back in. 

“Please!” You cried, the word coming out muffled from behind his hand. 

“God- your cunt is so good.” He groaned, picking up the pace, making you cry harder. 

“Stop! Please…” You whimpered brokenly. 

“I know, baby. I’m almost done, I promise.” He said breathily. You tried kicking your legs, thrashing under him, pushing him away, but he was too strong. “Just a little longer, you’re doing so good.” He removed his hand, but before you could scream, he was kissing you again. This time, he shoved his tongue passed your parted lips, licking into your mouth in a desperate, almost feral manner. That, along with the fact that you couldn’t focus on this kiss because of how hard you were crying, made it incredibly messy and sloppy and wet. 

He snapped his hips into you, chasing his orgasm as he kissed you like he’d never be able to kiss anyone ever again, making it feel like you could barely breathe. Mostly because of the kiss, but also because of how overwhelming the pain of the stretch was. He continued kissing you and his facial hair felt scratchy against face, only furthering your discomfort. 

“I’m close.” He whispered against your lips. At least it was almost over. “I haven’t filled up a cunt in over a year.” He practically growled, making you stiffen again. 

“N-no… Emmett, please don’t. Please pull out.” You begged desperately, trying to speak coherently through all of the crying. 

“I thought you said I deserve this? That I deserve to finally be happy after everything.” He frowned, making you falter. 

“I didn’t mean… this.” You choked out, not sure what else to say. 

“I know…” He said quietly, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I’ll try to pull out.” 

“Emmett, please. You have to,” He leaned down and cut you off with another kiss as his thrusts became even rougher. 

“You’re such a good girl…” He murmured against your lips, breathing heavily as he neared his release. “So good. I’m gonna make you mine. I’ll take care of you, just like I took care of her. But we’ll be safe this time...” You shook your head, unable to do anything else. “No monsters, no illness— It’s gonna be perfect. We’ll even have some boys, yeah?”

“No,” You sobbed, quickly feeling defeated. You couldn’t stop this no matter how hard you tried. “Please, Emmett… I just turned 18, I- I can’t…” He moaned quietly when you said that. 

“Shh. Yes you can. I’ll help you, baby, we’ll do it together.” You shook your head in disagreement as you continued to cry. “Fuck,” He choked out, eyes closing again. “Ready?” 

“No— no, Emmett… please. Please pull out!” You yelled, making him curse under his breath. With one final groan, he forced his cock all the way in, pushing up against your cervix uncomfortably. 

“Oh, good girl.” He moaned, lazily rutting into you as he rode out his high. “So fucking good. So tight… milking every fucking drop.” He said proudly, making you cry harder at the verbal reminder that he just came inside you. 

“Emmett…” You whimpered, feeling his cock twitch inside you. 

“Thank you.” He said through a breath. “Thank you so much.” He almost sounded like he was about to cry in relief and that made you falter. This man has been alone for weeks, just haunted by the memories of his family with no real outlet or source of comfort. So when someone finally offered him some… he jumped at the chance immediately. You probably would’ve done the same, had you lost your entire family. 

“And I meant what I said. I’m going to keep you safe this time, I promise.” He said quietly, reaching down to feel where his cock was bulging your stomach— where a baby would be growing soon enough. “All of you.” 

[user00003123]

NOW LIVE: IN A TRANCE feat. e. jaeger

SUMMARY: eren feels like you have him in in a trance

CONTENT WARNINGS: college! plug! eren x fem! reader, smut, mdni, college au, smoking weed, reader has piereced nipples and belly piercing, dub con (both eren & reader are high), neck kissing/sucking, nipple play, oral (f. receiving), face sitting, hand job, pussy drunk eren, nickname (pretty girl), slight dirty talk, wc. 1,957

Eren Jaeger was the well know dealer around the campus, even having some clients that didn't attend the university. So it shouldn't have surprised him when it's you walking out of the apartment building he was sitting in front of waiting to make a delivery.

He had received a text earlier that day from someone saying they needed weed to help them relieve some stress from exams, and the person didn't live far, just on the opposite side of his apartment complex, so he didn't mind driving. Now seeing that it was you he was texting, he felt his heartbeat pick up the closer you got to his car.

From the moment he saw you on campus you've had him under your spell. Every time he would pass you on campus or see you at a party, it was like he was in a movie scene where the girl has a light from heaven shining on her and everything else around her was blurry.

Sometimes his jaw would fall open, Armin wiping the side of his mouth while saying, "Close up pretty boy, you're drooling." The comment making Jean and Connie laugh also adds to the teasing, resulting in Eren punching both boys in the arm and muttering a 'shut up.'

You clouded his thoughts, even when you weren't around somehow, distracting him while doing homework, playing the game, hanging out with friends, and even smoking. Just from locking eyes with you for one second, you were all this man could think about.

Hearing a knock on his window pulls him out of his thoughts and he rolls the window down, greeting you with a smile.

"Thank you so much for doing this," holding out your hand to give him the $30, he counts it before handing you 15. "You said it was 30."

He shakes his head, handing you the small baggy, "New customer deal." He had never given a new customer a 50% off deal before, but for you, he made the exception.

"I appreciate that Eren," and then your face contorts into a small pout. "Uh...actually, do you think you could roll these for me? I've never rolled one before."

"Oh yeah, definitely," he holds his hand out for the bag.

"How about you come up to my apartment?" You put your hands on your face in embarrassment, laughing a little. "Sorry if I sound forward or weird, I just would rather you be comfortable since I'm making you do more work.

He agrees saying it's not weird and gets out of his car following you into the building. Opening the door to your apartment he's greeted with a warm scent of vanilla as he looks around. Your lights are dim, soft sounds of Rick and Morty playing on your tv that's mounted on a wall, and a few pictures of you with friends and family next to it.

You gesture for him to sit on your couch making room on the small table you had in front of it for him to use. You sat on the smaller sofa on the opposite side of the couch pulling your legs up to your chest.

"You a smoker?" he questions taking the weed out of the small baggy he had placing it in his grinder.

"Not really, I smoke at parties if my friends have some, but that's it," he nods, taking the weed out of the grinder and sprinkling it on the paper. "How long have you been dealing?"

Pursing his lips together, he looks up thinking, "About a year."

"Do you like it?" you question, head leaning against your arms.

"Yeah, it's not a hard job, drugs are always in demand, so I'll always have business," he explains. "and the pay is good."

Finishing up rolling your blunts, he smiles at you as he shows them to you, "Perfection."

"Thank you so much," you stand up, trying to hand him the other $15 but he puts his hand up stopping you.

"I told you, new customer deal," you follow him to your door, walking him out. "Text me if you need anything else."

Making it a weekly thing, you text him when you need some weed and he'll come up to your apartment to roll it for you. The more he comes over the more you two get to know each other, eventually asking him to just stay and smoke with you, since he was still giving you a discount even though you're not a new customer anymore.

You started inviting him to hang out at your place, not even wanting to smoke, just wanting to be around him. You would notice him just staring at you sometimes, snapping your fingers in his face and he'd just apologized with a laugh. It didn't bother you, not even close, it made you feel fuzzy all over, and you finally decided to ask him about it.

Your bedroom is filled with laughter and hip-hop playing softly in the background as you are both laid on your bed. His head felt fuzzy, you consuming his thoughts and he didn't even realize he was staring with a dopey grin on his face.

"Why do you do that?" you have the same dopey grin on your face as you're looking at him and Trance by Metro Boomin starts to play.

"Do what?" He raises his eyebrow nodding his head to the beat of the song.

"Stare at me. You do it a lot," you sit up against your bed frame, your hand scratching at his scalp. He had his hair in a bun, a few strands framing his face.

"I don't know . . . you're just pretty," he licks his lips, eyes still staring into yours.

"Shut up," you laugh and he closes his eyes, enjoying your fingers playing in his hair.

"I'm serious, you're so pretty," you don't say anything. You both just humming to the music.

"You know this song reminds me of you," you look down at him, his eyes still closed.

"Why's that?"

"Whenever I look at you, I feel like I'm in a trance," he moves his hand to run over your leg. "even randomly throughout the day I'll just start thinking about you."

You pushed his head to make him look away from you as your grinning, cheeks hurt, "That's just the weed talking."

"It's not, I swear," his eyes open. "The first time I saw you, way before I even brought you weed that first time, I felt like you were compelling me to just focus on you."

"You're so dramatic," you sigh head leaning back against the headboard.

"You were just so pretty, I couldn't even focus on anything else that day," he confessed. "Even after that, we never talked and you would randomly just pop up in my head."

You hid your face in his hand, giggling at his words, head feeling so hazy. Taking a peek at him from between your fingers, he lights the blunt that was sitting on your nightstand, and he just looks so good . . .

"Come here," he taps your thighs and you look at him confused cause you’re already so close. "Sit on my lap."

Without a second thought, you were straddling his lap, feeling his dick right against your thigh, and he lets out a small groan, as he is exhaling the smoke. His eyes are low and red, looking over your body. You're wearing a white camisole that stopped just above your belly piercing and black shorts that showed quite a bit of your ass.

His hand is rubbing your thigh, his lip caught between his teeth. Your hands go under his hoodie, lightly scraping your nails against his soft skin, licking your lips at how good he looks.

He's licking his dry lips as he's looking at you before taking another drag of the blunt. Grabbing your face he pulls you down so your lips are almost touching and he blows the smoke into your mouth while you inhale it. Closing the little space between you, your lips are pressed to his in a needy and heated kiss.

Hands comb through his hair as you're lightly grinding against him, needing to ease the sensation between your legs. He puts the bunt in the ashtray then both of his hands go down to your ass, groping and helping you grind against him. Your both moaning in each other's mouth, whiny breaths.

"Want you to sit on my face," he says between kisses with a smile. You peck his lips a few more times before crawling up his body so you're clothed pussy is hovering over his face. Using his index finger, he slides your shorts over revealing your glistening cunt. He nudged your clit with his nose, inhaling your scent, then blowing his breath on the nub watching you shiver.

Being impatient you sit down on his face and he hums burring his face between your thighs, tongue greedily lapping at your wet folds. You're grabbing onto the headboard, moans slipping from your lips, as he's flicking his tongue against your clit.

He's so loud as he slurps your essence from your dripping hole, feeling it clench around nothing against his lips. You're whimpering his name, fingers tugging at his brown locks, eyes looking down to meet his. "Taste . . so good," he's so pussy drunk already, loud moans vibrating against your lower lips.

Grinding your little puffy nub into his nose, his tongue slides into your drooling hole, penetrating it, feeling you squeeze his pink muscle. He's watching your eyes screwed shut, jaw slack, and head falling back.

He has the perfect few of your pebbled nipples poking through your shirt, as your chest rises and falls, the more you hump his face, "So pretty—riding my face."

You reach behind you rubbing your hand against his bulge and he's instantly grinding against it, so needy to be touched. You push his sweatpants down with the help of him raising his hips, and his dick flings out free. You give him a few pumps before spitting in your hand and stroking him again, "Ah—fuck."

He's so messy eating your pussy, nose and chin sticky with your arousal, desperately slurping at your pussy, the sounds getting louder and filthier, as your thighs twitch around his head. He's moaning and groaning, at the taste of your pussy and how good your hand feels wrapped around his dick.

Your legs are growing tired, shamelessly humping his face, feeling your orgasm almost hit its peak, "Gonna . . cum Eren."

His eyes are rolling back, mumbling something incoherent into your pussy as his hips are stuttering into your hand. He slides his hands from your ass up to your nipples, pinching and pulling at the buds, as you start to twist your wrist and squeeze his tip as you stroked his cock.

Holding his head still with the grip you had on his now messy bun, you feel your orgasm crash over you with a few screams of Eren's name, and he's following right behind you. Globs of cum coating your hand and his lower stomach, your hand still moving helping him ride out his orgasm.

When you both come down from your highs, you're sitting back on his thighs, Eren's face is glistening with your arousal, licking his lips savoring your taste. With a lazy grin on your face, you lean down giving him sloppy kisses, tasting yourself on his lips with a moan, "Taste so sweet, pretty girl."

Kissing down your neck to your chest, he's sucking on one of your nipples, tongue darting out licking around the cold metal hearts, while his fingers play with the other one, "Can I taste you again?"

©HANNSDIARY 2023 | all rights reserved. please don’t copy, steal, modify, or repost my work on other sites.

[anthonsgi]

★’･ﾟ:｡･:*:First kiss with HSR characters PT.1:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

【Note: Hello! I haven't written anything in a while, but I recently got a surge of motivation, so why not take advantage of that? :) There will be a few parts because I want to write for many characters and the process of writing each one is really long for me so I prefer to spread them out a bit, so if the character you would like to read about isn't here, keep an eye out for future parts, perhaps I will include them there! As per usual, English isn't my first language and I'm learning as I go, please be patient with me. Requests are open! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧】

【Pairings: Kafka, Argenti, Blade x GN!Reader】

【CW: I may have added some angst here and there, but I couldn't resist (I tried to end it with a good, slightly bittersweet conclusion each time though)! I wanted to make the characters' traits as similar to the game's as possible, but a few things may still be out of character, sorry in advance!】

a lil note: this is literally just all of these characters being absolutely SMITTEN for you and them fawning over you, but every day is a good day to get praised left and right, no?

☆〜KAFKA〜☆

It shouldn't be much of a surprise that you fell in love with this young and exceptionally charming woman. As a Stellaron Hunter, she ensures that Elio's predicted plans are carried out. That being said, you were a completely unpredicted element in a series of missions; there was never a mention of you ever being included in situations that you always found yourself stuck in. Kafka always saw it as "the usual result of the unforeseen nature of destiny," as she liked to explain to you.

After a while of simple acquaintance, she has grown more fond of you than she has of anyone. Not only were you beautiful in her eyes, which was a big thing for a connoisseur of beauty such as herself, but she felt at ease with you. She may be a sly, unbothered criminal whose prize for capturing her is enough to provide many good-lived lives for a bunch of Vidyadharas, but she actually really appreciates the times when she doesn't feel like she's being chased by people or by time itself.

Being with you was as enjoyable as studying the waves—a peaceful activity, a thought-provoking process. She desired to look at the horizon and discover more than meets the eye, however, it was quite impossible. The job of a Stellaron Hunter is challenging not only because of the relentless pursuit of destiny and the never-ending dangers but also because it entails never staying in one place for too long, never forming more meaningful connections, and never attaching yourself to finite, frail matters. Even though she knew she was more unlikely to run into the same individual twice as a Devil Hunter than she was now, her options were usually limited.

Kafka isn't one to fully hide her true feelings; she spoke very highly of you, your way of being and thinking, your appearance, and your tendency to be the miracle of one's destiny (*cough* talking about herself there). She has developed a habit of complimenting you just to see you squirm away from her gaze and bite your lower lip to try and stop a smile from forming. These occurrences weren't rare; they always followed the same pattern: she said something = you discreetly reacted = she noticed and couldn't stop noticing.

A kiss from her would be more of an indication of her love than a reveal, showing rather than declaring it. It may have happened during one of your late-night chats where you slowly opened up to one another, or it could have happened in the early morning after she invited herself into your home after you had just woken up and weren't sure if you were still asleep. In any case, without having said much, she leaned in, rested her hand on your cheek, and left a tender and delicate kiss on your lips. It didn't last long, but it meant more than a decade of stolen glances and conversations with hidden meanings.

It didn't feel like a goodbye kiss, it never did, but it was clear it was some form of leaving you wanting more, leaving you yearning for her to come back and see you again, and leaving you wondering how long it would be before she does it once more.

☆〜ARGETNTI〜☆

Knight of Beauty, a follower of the fallen Aeon Idrila. He's constantly on the journey to honor the principles of beauty itself, spreading the grace of his Goddess all over the universe. Discovering numerous forms of beauty in the ordinary and in the extraordinary. When he first laid his eyes on you, it was as if time began to bend around you, a black hole in which the concept of time didn't seem to exist, trapping anyone and everyone residing in its proximity.

Recognizing refinement in people was second nature to him, admiring their souls that mirrored their personalities and beliefs. He wished nothing more than to convey compassion to those who possessed honorable qualities, pure hearts, and desirable traits. Your beauty shone with such radiance that it put the stars to shame; your existence was an excellent reminder of Idrila's presence in the universe.

To Argenti, love is a miraculous feeling that is a joy to experience; it reflects a person's deepest desires and is an act of care so poetic that it almost brings a tear to the eye. In a way, having never experienced it before and having no opportunity to try due to his commitment to traversing in solitude, he decided it wasn't he who was supposed to feel it and that he was merely destined to admire the beauty of it from afar.

Meeting you meant the world to him; you made him feel love for another person for the first time—the all-consuming love from every classical novel he had read. The purest form of it is tragic love, one that breaks down the foundations that hold one's life in perfect balance. He spent several days and nights with you, staying in one location longer than he ever did since becoming a knight—the place where he started to ponder his destiny and his vocation.

He made every effort to push these thoughts away, thinking such things felt like a violation of the universal code of chivalry he upholds, yet when he gazed at your gentle smile as he held your hand, it was a tougher battle than that of a wax candle facing the sun. He was melting into a pitiful puddle as your very being formed him again, never to be the same as before.

One beautiful night, when the birds had gone to sleep, no expectations were laid forth, and no secrets were to be unveiled, Argenti took you by both hands, kissing each knuckle as if they would break if he put pressure on them. He spoke of you as if you were the one he had devoted his life to worshiping, his lips singing silent praises; perhaps it was a prayer, perhaps an apology. His eyes met yours, a nonverbal plea, and you leaned in, connecting your mouths in a passionate kiss, electricity coursing between each soft teeth clashing.

What an outstanding farewell kiss that was. The thought alone made you gulp down the lump growing in your throat. Argenti has to leave, or rather, ought to leave; otherwise, he's afraid he may decide to stay. He's certain your paths will cross one day; it's just the way of the world. Either way, he always finds himself drifting towards beauty. Behind him, he will leave a timeless tale of a wounded and repaired heart, as well as a dose of fate that makes no mistakes.

☆〜BLADE〜☆

The undying man who became a blade, a shell of a person, a mara-stricken monster with no hope for craved demise. His story is one of endless agony and misery. In this everlasting life, Blade's abilities are used in matters including bloodshed, spreading the pain he felt himself, and only then would he feel himself disappear, even for a moment. As bitter as that was, it was reality, his burden to bear. Blade didn't have "companionships" and never needed attachments. The closest he had to an acquaintance was Kafka, whose voice managed to calm the monsters who grew inside him relentlessly, and possibly Silver Wolf. However, he didn't understand her, nor did he wish to.

How you were able to capture his wounded heart remains a forever-unsolved mystery. He, of course, didn't decide one day that the way you laughed made him feel emotions so intense that he wondered if what he was feeling was some form of suffering he'd never experienced previously or that his intensified urge to protect you wasn't just due to the fact he was always nearby when danger struck, but because he genuinely cared. It was a lengthy process imbued with a myriad of understatements and denial. An "I love you" leaving his lips was as bizarre as the prospect of hell freezing over... yet when it did happen, you only wished to hear it again.

He frequently wonders why he finds himself faintly grinning primarily in your presence alone (and obviously during combat). When you resided in his vicinity, everyone could feel a shift in the atmosphere surrounding him, as well as a change in his usual behavior. It was almost comical to observe, especially to his fellow Stellaron Hunters, who never missed an opportunity to tease him. Nonetheless, love expressed by a presumably loveless man is as fascinating as it is arduous. Your existence was curative, helping him to rediscover parts of humanity he thought he had lost, yet healing is a part of him he has come to loathe with every fiber of his being. At one point, he distanced himself, as if limiting your healing influence on him was the sole thing that he could control about his 'condition'.

That didn't last long, and he scurried back to you like a moth to a flame. Blade didn't grasp the concept of physical touch as a kind of comfort; it never failed to remind him of how many times he had been hurt. You, once again, were the exception. Gentle arm touches, random lacing of fingers, your scent, and that insufferable (not really) look in your eyes whenever you stared at him drew him in. As much as he despised life, he did not detest the idea of living simply to be with you; that paradise that always seemed to be out of his reach, a mere push away, appeared to be standing right in front of him.

A minor brush of your body against his made you excited, but a kiss? It's overwhelming to even imagine. You'd have to initiate it, subtly steering the conversation to a topic where it wouldn't be too odd to inquire about moving to the next step in your relationship, acting as lovers. If Blade didn't wear a stoic expression on his face more than half the time, you could tell by his nervous swallowing that he would be at least blushing a little. He wasn't an adolescent, and he didn't think of a kiss as the grandest gesture of intimacy; nevertheless, that didn't free him of hesitations. Being vulnerable and helpless in the hands of another, all of his shortcomings could be easily revealed.

Kissing Blade had to come naturally when you were alone and indulging in small talk; there was no need for a perfectly timed gust of wind or a captivating blanket of stars above, just two imperfect people pouring all of their desires, yearning, and passion into a single imperfect kiss. Your lips met, linking your souls and creating a sensible spark deep within. There was no distance between you, and you were both entirely defenseless against the other's will. After you moved away, it was as if a thousand sentences were pulled from your mouths, yet no one spoke a word. With swollen lips, you were unable to resist a grin while Blade leaned in for another kiss.

lil ending note: hope you enjoyed! also, I have to mention that I know that both Kafka and Blade are Stellaron Hunters so the main problem portrayed in Kafka's part (the never being in one place too long) could potentially be brought up In Blade's part as well, but I decided that would be pretty repetitive so I wrote about Blade's history instead :D

[sxcretricciardo]

good luck charm

Daniel Ricciardo x reader

It's race day here in Monaco and you're walking around the paddock with your airpods in your ears, a sight that everyone was used to seeing every Sunday. Walking makes your muscles stay warm and the music helps you remain focus, cutting out every outside noise that's going around the paddock.

You like to look inside the team's garages as you walk past, you love to see everyone working and giving their best to have their cars sharp and ready to go into the track. You like to see the driver's rituals before racing too. Some sit in their drivers rooms, others like to stand in the garage and others like to sit in their cars.

You make your way to the AlphaTauri garage, wanting to see your boyfriend, Daniel, to whish him good luck. You and Daniel had this agreement that as soon as you walk into the paddock, there's no PDA. When you both started dating, the papers went wild, claiming that you were only in F1 because of your boyfriend and every question when you were on press it would be about Daniel and your relationship with him. You hated that. Being a woman in the F1 is already hard, having to prove yourself more than the men and you wanted to be recognized by people because of your career in Formula 1 and not because of your boyfriend so, you don't kiss when you're inside the paddocks, you don't to give the media something to talk about. You love Daniel nonetheless, and that affection is showed a lot outside the tracks. You both just like to keep it in a private circle. You still talk and tease each other in here, but there are no kisses or hugs, at least not in the public eye. You know each other's drivers room pretty well, though.

You see Daniel sitting in the corner of the garage, with his headphones on his head. It took you a while to figure out the thing he had under his nose.

You approach him and start laughing your butt off. Daniel Ricciardo has a moustache.

"What?" He asks, like he didn't know why you are laughing.

"What the hell is that?" You ask, pointing to his moustache.

"It's just a moustache." He says, brushing it with his fingers.

"Yeah, I can see that. You didn't have that when I left our hotel room this morning." You say.

"I told you I had a surprise for you. You don't like it?" He asks, with puppy eyes. Suddenly, you feel bad for laughing.

"I mean, it's a different look, that's all. It's suits you, alright." You say, smiling.

"So, you like it." He says, smiling.

"I mean, kinda?"

"Be honest." He says.

You look at him closer, tilting your head in a thinking motion. You put your mouth closer to his ear and whisper "I think it's very hot." As you push yourself away, you see him smirking.

"Well, I just came here to wish you good luck, you're gonna need it." You say, walking away.

"I already have my good luck charm." He says.

"Aw, thank you." You say, almost exiting the garage.

"Not you, the moustache." He says, smirking. You look back at him to see him smirking and then looking away from you.

"You're gonna regret that." You shout for him to hear and walk to your garage to get ready for the race.

-after the race-

You exit your car in the paddock and make your way into to the garage. You crossed the finish line in P4, and your were satisfied with your result, eager to do better next weekend. You passed Daniel twice, so you knew he hadn't done better than you.

You take of your helmet and you baclava and drink some water. After you're done with the press, you put on your regular clothes and make your way to the parking lot, where you see Daniel waiting, leaning against his car.

"Congrats on P4, sweets." He says, smiling.

"I told you were gonna regret it." I say, as you walk closer to him. "But P7 is not bad at all, at least you got some points."

You kiss him on the lips and he says "Well, it could have gone worse."

"It could have gone better, but you got a new good luck charm, shouldn't that have help you?" You ask, smirking. You both put your stuff in the trunk of the car and then enter it. Danny drives away to the hotel. And let's just say, his moustache is actually amazing when it comes to other stuff.

[alexbkrieger13]

Harder: "Underrated? I get enough recognition"

According to her coach, Bayern's Pernille Harder (31) is still underrated. She sees it differently, talks about her role, her goals - and the duel with her former club Wolfsburg.

Just in time for the start of the Champions League against Arsenal this Wednesday (6.45 p.m.) and the Bundesliga top match against Wolfsburg (Saturday, 5.45 p.m., both LIVE! on kicker), Germany's Footballer of the Year 2020 is back in top form. So a visit to the Oktoberfest was a perfect fit for the Dane Pernille Harder and her Bayern teammates.

According to her coach, Bayern's Pernille Harder (31) is still underestimated. She sees it differently, and talks about her role, her goals - and the duel with her former club Wolfsburg.

Pernille Harder recently scored three times against TSG Hoffenheim.

Pernille Harder recently scored three times against TSG Hoffenheim.IMAGO/DiZ-PiX

Just in time for the start of the Champions League against Arsenal this Wednesday (6.45 p.m.) and the Bundesliga top match against Wolfsburg (Saturday, 5.45 p.m., both LIVE! on kicker), Germany's 2020 footballer of the year is back in top form. So a visit to the Oktoberfest was a perfect fit for the Dane Pernille Harder and her Bayern teammates.

Ms. Harder, how was the trip to Oktoberfest with the team?

A good experience. It's always interesting to experience German culture, especially here in Bavaria. Last year I was there for the first time, now for the second time.

Do you like the hustle and bustle there?

It's always a nice experience and fun, but I don't have to go to Oktoberfest every weekend (laughs). I generally prefer quieter places.

You seem to have a very good atmosphere in the team. That's probably not least due to the results this year.

Yes, we're really well positioned, a close-knit group. That's also because we don't have a huge squad - everyone has an important role in the team. That contributes to the atmosphere. We win, we score a lot of goals.

Apart from the DFB Cup final against Wolfsburg, you haven't lost a single game this year.

There is a lot of self-confidence in the team. This is based on the many victories and the experience we have gained there. Even if we are behind, we have the confidence to come back. And we trust our style of play. The way we are now, the way we are playing, we have developed a lot as a team compared to a year ago.

You previously played for VfL Wolfsburg and FC Chelsea and won a series of titles there. Can you get used to winning?

I don't know if I'm used to it… you shouldn't take it for granted. I like it anyway (smiles). And sometimes you lose too. We don't want to sit back and rest on our laurels, we want to develop and get better.

Wolfsburg suffered a surprise 0-3 defeat to Frankfurt a week ago. Do you watch this or other Bundesliga games in your free time?

I watch the Bundesliga, our Bundesliga, whenever I can. We were still eating after our own game against Bremen when Frankfurt played Wolfsburg, so I could only watch on my phone.

Is Eintracht now the number one pursuer? Or, despite the mixed start to the season, is Wolfsburg still your next league opponent?

We definitely have an exciting league. Frankfurt and Wolfsburg will both fight for the top spots. It's all the more interesting, all the more fun, when there's more competition.

Between 2017 and 2020 you played for VfL - your first stop at a top European club.

I have good memories of it, it was a great time. For me, that was the point in my career where I went from being a relatively unknown player to an established player in Europe. I am grateful to VfL for putting their trust in me as a young player. I still have some good contacts there.

Let's move on to the Champions League. Your coach Alexander Straus says that FC Bayern "got the toughest possible opponents from some of the pots". Do you agree?

I think there are two difficult groups. We are in one of them. And yes, Juventus is probably the strongest team in pot 3. We have to concentrate on each game individually. If we are fully there in these games, we have a good chance of progressing.

In January, your teammate and partner Magdalena Eriksson said in a kicker interview that FC Barcelona and Olympique Lyon were the top favorites for the 2023/24 title. Has anything changed since then?

Barcelona will always be the top favorite at the moment. But we now have so much competition in women's football that not just one or two teams can win. I estimate that apart from Barca there are about eight that have the opportunity to get very far in this tournament.

Which ones are they?

We also have Lyon, Manchester City, Arsenal, Chelsea. And Juventus, AS Roma, Bayern and Wolfsburg.

So do you see yourself as being on a par with the other seven behind Barcelona?

It's all about the little things. When you're in the quarter-finals, it often depends on your form on the day.

But your coach thinks Arsenal are the top favourites in Group C.

Yes, difficult to say… It's been a while since we played against them. Arsenal are a great team with a lot of great players.

Who come to mind first?

Kim Little is important for them. Mariona Caldentey came from Barcelona, ​​a great player. For me she is already a key player, even though she is new to the team. Stina Blackstenius and Alessia Russo are worth mentioning, Frida Maanum has performed well this season. They have a lot of good players.

With Chelsea, they have won five of their eight games against Arsenal, and drawn two. So they know how to beat Arsenal.

We have to defend compactly. Arsenal want to play the game, they are good at finding gaps and spaces. We will have some good moments of transition, but we can also play our game with the ball. Maybe we have to defend a little more against them than we are used to. Without becoming passive, but being aggressive.

Then we play against Juventus. In the pre-season, you played 0-0 against the Italians. What do you remember from that?

Juventus played man-to-man, one-on-one, all over the field. That made the game very different to what we are used to. But this experience can also be an advantage for us.

Do you like this man-oriented defense of opposing teams?

I like it better when it is possible to find space. We don't come up against so many teams that play man-marking all over the field. Maybe some teams do that up front or in midfield - but not everywhere. We will prepare well for that.

Valerenga Oslo is the absolute underdog in your group. Or?

They are from pot 4, so on paper they are an underdog team, yes. I know a few players from there, including a Danish player (captain Janni Thomsen, editor's note), she is a really good player. It applies to all teams in the group stage: if you are not fully there on the day, any team can hurt you. Even Valerenga.

Why is FC Bayern better than in the previous season? Why is the season not ending in the group phase this time?

We are almost the same team as last season. But we have developed our game since then. We are more attuned to the way we want to play, both offensively and defensively. And our transition behavior has improved.

What do you think of the new Champions League mode from next season?

That will be interesting. The men are already gaining their first experiences with it. It's always fun to try something new.

Before the Bundesliga game against Hoffenheim (5:1) at the end of September, your coach said that you hadn't yet broken the deadlock. Then you scored three times in that very game. Did you also feel like you had broken the deadlock?

Of course, as an offensive player you always want to score your first goal of the season to get going. But I also try to concentrate on other things that I do on the pitch: creating chances and providing assists. For me, that's just as important as the goals. Even though I know that the media and the people around me like the goals more. But the goals come by themselves if the rest is right.

Straus also said that you were underestimated and didn't get the recognition you deserve.

(laughs) I think I get enough recognition, that's fine. I don't know if I'm underestimated. But I'm glad that the coach thinks I'm important to the team. That's the most important thing for me: that my team trusts that I'll deliver and that I get recognition from them.

Before you left the Bundesliga for England in the summer of 2020, it sometimes seemed as if you could score and set up goals at will. In the meantime, your opponents have gotten better.

We played differently with Wolfsburg than we do now at Bayern. That's why it's difficult for me to compare.

But you can compare the opponents.

That's right. The level in the Bundesliga has increased since then, no question about it. There has been a big development. Also that there are now more teams that are good with the ball. And almost all of them want to build up from the back through the goalkeeper.

Your coach sometimes uses you as a striker, sometimes as a ten, sometimes on the wing. Which position suits you best?

I prefer to move in the "space in between" (Harder uses the German term here for once; ed.), where I can pick up the ball and then turn. Thanks to our style of play, I can stay in the space in between, regardless of whether I'm a nine, ten or winger. So the exact position is actually not that important.

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 09

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 5,1k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.),

series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

It had only been a few hours since the whole disaster.

Before, you had thought that you would return to your family home purely to collect your things; now you were lying in your bed again, in a room buried in the darkness of the night, staring mindlessly at the white dress hanging over the back of a chair. You associated it not with being abandoned, but with the nightmare that was your wedding. Maybe Bucky was doing you a favor? He'd bought you some time before you had to go through all that again, to eventually tie the knot anyway?

You didn't blame him for doing it. He had made it clear to you right from the start that such a relationship was out of the question; in fact, he had told you so at every turn – that he wasn't husband material, that he wasn't trying to be charming, that he was a stubborn asshole, a piece of shit…

But the truth was – despite everything – you didn't see him that way. To you, he was just a scared, confused human trying to do this for you. He had failed, the situation had overwhelmed him, and all you could think about was how much you wanted to see him. Where was he now? What was he up to?

What did Timothy say to him?

Although Michael participated in this conversation, he did not want to reveal its details to you. He decided that it was a man's conversation, and it was better for you to stay in the dark about it. Apart from a businesslike, practical alliance, you no longer had anything in common with the Barnes. But if it had been up to you, you would have crushed that alliance and shoved it down Timothy's throat. However, destroying a long-standing friendship was not in your intentions, but one thing remained clear – Timothy Barnes wasn’t your friend. Now you weren't even sure he had ever been your father's friend. You understood that he cared about securing his Family, but he shouldn't have kept that from you. 

You rolled onto your back, your eyes stuck on the ceiling.

At that point, you didn't really care what was going to happen next. You didn't care about your future or the fate of your Family; you figured you had every right to, since submitting to the expectations of others wasn't producing the desired results. You needed a moment without worrying about everything and everyone. You would have liked to focus entirely on yourself, but your thoughts revolved around him. It was far too soon to forget, but why couldn't you hate him? You were naive and weak. But you could allow yourself to be. At least until the morning.

Suddenly, you pulled yourself up to a sitting position. You heard something, or you only thought you did, still, you froze motionless, listening to the sounds of your surroundings. 

There it was again – a quiet knock, knock coming from somewhere downstairs.

Your heart beat almost painfully; you left the bed, hesitant and a little stiff, and although you immediately wanted to be at the door, you got out of the bedroom carefully, then went down the stairs to the floor below. Without thinking much, you turned the key in the lock and pulled the handle. And your first instinct was to be terribly disappointed when you found Sam Wilson behind the door. 

“We don't have much time,” he began, before you had a chance to say anything. “I parked across the street. A black car,” he emphasized, as if you should remember this particular piece of information. “I will wait ten minutes. If you don't show up, the case will be closed. If you're going to show up, you'd better pack some things.” Without waiting for your answer, he turned and walked away.

You were more than surprised – completely thrown off guard. You had loads of questions, but no time to dwell on them. Sam had only given you ten minutes and you weren't going to waste a second. You couldn't even imagine what it could all mean, but you felt with all your being that you had to make the most of this opportunity. All the heaviness, the soreness, all the lethargy you had been stuck in for hours - it was all gone, replaced by a sudden adrenaline and a need for action.

When you rushed back into your bedroom, you immediately found the bag you had packed with Connie's help much earlier – you weren't sure where you were going to go after the wedding, so you wanted to be prepared, and even though the wedding didn't work out, the bag turned out to be a lifesaver. At least you were confident you'd make it to Sam's car in time.

You grabbed your phone, which you'd turned off anyway beforehand so you wouldn't have to talk to anyone, your charger from the bedside table, and pulled Bucky's sweatshirt from the wardrobe. Everything else you might need fit into the bag. Before just leaving the house, you slipped comfortable sneakers on your feet, meanwhile you turned on your phone and texted Suzie to lock up the house. In the process, you read a message from an unknown number; Sam had tried to contact you earlier.

You stepped out into the cool, refreshing night air. You threw your hood over your head, adjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder, and, having taken a look around, walked to the other side of the street. You expected to find a typical SUV somewhere on your path, but after a dozen or so steps you reached an area where the only car was a black sedan. So Sam wanted to give the impression of being a civilian. You ran up to the car, and it started up ready to go before you touched the handle.

You shut the door behind you and looked around the interior of the vehicle, but the only person inside was Sam.

“What’s going on?” you asked. “Where are we going?” 

“We're going to fix something.”

The car stopped in front of an isolated, abandoned hangar. 

You were on pins and needles the whole way, and reaching – as it turned out – the destination didn't bring you peace of mind. Not having the slightest idea what you could expect, you were even more nervous.

You took your bag from the back seat and followed Sam to the entrance. He opened the heavy metal door with a creak indicating a lack of proper care for the building, and let you inside. For a hangar, the interior of this particular one was surprisingly dimly lit; the enormous space was unpleasantly cold.

You heard quiet, echoing footsteps, so you immediately turned to look in that direction. Seeing him, you unconsciously held your breath, and all the emotions bothering you that day, which had not yet found their way out, gathered in your eyes in the form of tears. As the first, salty, burning tear ran down your heated cheek, you dropped your bag so that you could freely cover your face with your hands; to hide from him in this moment of weakness.

“Hey, hey, hey…” Bucky said softly. You didn't even notice when he crossed the distance separating you and got right beside you. He scooped you into his arms, drew you close to his firm, warm body and closed yours in a strong yet gentle embrace; one of his hands remained in place, wrapped around your back, the other moved higher, to the back of your head – he stroked your hair tenderly, and you still felt like hiding, but this time not from him but from the whole world, in his arms; you wanted to melt into his body, into his broad chest.

“You f-fucking-,” you choked out between sobs, tightening your fingers on the material of his t-shirt.

“I know, Y/N. I acted like a dick,” he agreed without hesitation. “Cry it out, just like that,” he praised, keeping on stroking your hair. “Can you take a deep breath? Come on,” he instructed gently. Your chest was beginning to ache because of the spasms of crying clenching your muscles, so you obediently breathed air into your lungs. “Yeah, just like that.”

You knew what you had to do next, and Bucky knew what you needed. Clarity of mind and calm slowly returned to you, but there was still that most important part.

You lifted your head and looked at Bucky’s face, therefore meeting his gaze. He was watching you in such a soft, vulnerable way that made you feel like crying all over again. He moved his hand from the back of your head to the side of your face and tenderly wiped your wet cheek; you could feel his skin on your skin, and the bandage he must have used to wrap the cut in his palm.

That reminded you of the situation from a few hours ago; of the lack of knowledge regarding your appearance here. Despite everything, you didn't have the slightest desire to break out of his arms. Why would you deprive yourself of this comfort and sense of safety? You deserved it, especially after the events of the last twenty-four hours; maybe even the last few months.

“You left me,” you finally spoke, your voice weak because of all the crying.

“Only for a moment.”

“For a moment?” Your forehead puckered. “You destroyed the agreement,” you said, pulling away from him against your will. A flash of mild anger didn't let you stand as close as before. “We are no longer married, I am alone again and still need a husband,” you pointed, determined to make Bucky realize the situation he had put you in.

He sighed heavily. “I know what I did. But I didn't do it without a reason,” he claimed, making you even more confused. He clenched his jaw briefly, not taking his eyes off you. “I owe my uncle a debt. After my father's death, I should’ve been the head of the Family, but I couldn't handle it, I wasn't in the right place. Timothy stepped in, helped me out,” he admitted reluctantly. “Now he wants complete obedience from me; he expects me to do absolutely everything for him, and basically, he is right, because otherwise it would be a betrayal. But I couldn't let him use this against you. You don't owe him anything.”

Now you understood his position – you understood it, and in that moment you hated the feeling, your forbearance. But you said nothing; just folded your arms, waiting for further explanation.

“We can still get married,” Bucky continued. “But outside his rules and conditions.”

Your eyes went round, that familiar wave of warmth ran through your body. “What… What do you mean?”

“All we have to do is actually get married. Legally, without any deals, tricks or fucking loopholes.” He took a small step towards you, and probably didn't predict that you wouldn't move away this time. “We'll just create a proper prenup, and when you want to divorce, you'll get back everything that was yours before the marriage.”

You raised your eyebrows. Up to now you had been convinced that he had run away because he didn't want to get married, and it turned out that he wanted to get married again. You didn't even know which question you should ask first. “Buck…” you said tentatively, as if that would bring him back to his senses. “An actual marriage is something different, something more... real.”

“People get married for various reasons,” he asserted, not giving up. Your sceptical approach was no obstacle. “For money, insurance, visas…” Bucky listed casually. And he was himself again – a calculating, clear-thinking strategist. He impressed the hell out of you with that. “As my wife, you will still become part of my Family, and this’ll give you protection. Except it will all happen more naturally, not like my uncle wanted. We will have more freedom.”

There was still too much chaos in your head for you to be able to pick out any rational thought. “Wait…” You raised your hand, closing your eyes for a moment. “Why didn't you tell me any of this earlier? Why did you leave me like that? I was scared to death.”

“My plan was just coming clear then, at the wedding,” he confessed, his lips pressed together in an unenthusiastic smile. “I didn't want to tell you about it till I was sure. Till I could find some safe place for us.”

His words effectively made you soft. “And did you find one..?”

You could see that for a split second he hesitated; as if he wasn't sure how you would react to further news. “Vegas..?”

“Of course Vegas.” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Look, it'll be quick and relatively painless.”

“I haven't agreed yet.”

“Then why didn't you take off the ring?”

Your eyes wandered to your hand. Bucky was a little too observant for your taste; his grandmother's ring stayed on your finger. Unlike the wedding band. Maybe you kept it subconsciously, since the ring had such sentimental value?

“You already ran away once, so why do you still want this? You could’ve never come back, wouldn't it be easier?” Having looked back at his face, you could tell he wasn’t offended by your question.

“You still need me. This marriage,” Bucky answered, and didn't do it with audacity or meanness; he was simply stating a fact. “And Timothy fucked me over, so I want to do the same to him, just for the hell of it.” He shrugged indifferently. For a while, he stared at you in silence. “And… I didn't see through his intrigue, because I was distracted… By you.” His jaw clenched. You swallowed hard, your palms became wet, and a warmth flared up again in the pit of your stomach. Bucky turned his gaze away, sticking it into the ground. “So, I need this marriage too, I guess.”  

You took an uneven breath and scratched the back of your neck. Bucky was distracted by thoughts of your safety, or...? “What other choice do I have?” you asked; partly out of curiosity, partly for the appearance that this marriage was not your last resort at all.

Bucky immediately brought his eyes back to you, his face taking on the harsh expression with which he usually handled business. “If you don't agree to do this, I will personally find you a suitable partner. I won't be more picky than necessary. And then I will disappear from your life for good,” he said bluntly.

You nodded slowly, absorbing that side of the story. You gave yourself some time to imagine it somehow – you with someone else; someone who wasn't Bucky. Then you remembered the weeks of longing when you were dating John Walker, and already knew that you didn't stand much chance of surviving without Bucky beside you.

Still, you decided to approach it with calm. “Okay.”

To your surprise, Bucky's face lit up with a slightly excited, satisfied smile. “Yeah?”

You nodded again, also unable to stop a grin creeping onto your lips.

“Whose house is this?” you asked as the headlights fell on the stately building.

“My godmother’s,” Bucky answered, turning off the engine. “I know there is no lack of hotels in Vegas,” he added straight away. “But I need a good night's sleep, and I trust my aunt enough to get some shut-eye.”

You shrugged. “I don't mind. After all, we'll all become one big, loving family, right?”

Apart from the clear, audible irony in your voice, Bucky smirked with delight. You wondered when the thought of marriage – of you being together – had stopped burning him. You supposed he was just exhausted; you both were. After a total of forty hours of car trip, interrupted only by bathroom stops. You took turns at the wheel so that the other could rest, but Bucky's stubbornness resulted in him driving most of the time. 

You got out of the car. Bucky opened the trunk so you could get your bags out, then you headed to the front door. Despite the evening, it was hot outside; not as torturous as during the day, but it was doing its job.

The aunt that Bucky mentioned greeted you right at the door. She put her arm around Bucky's shoulders, their cheeks brushed together. In your case, she respected your possible need for personal space; she looked at you carefully but not suspiciously. “Is this the girl?”

Bucky also glanced at you, as if he had to make sure his aunt was talking about you; as if he had to make sure you were still there. “Yeah. Y/N,” he confirmed.

“Marion.” She held out her hand to you, which you shook. “Jamie told me a little about the situation you kids are in,” she began, and you were prepared to hear some scolding words, disapproval. “That prick, my brother, didn't inform me – not to mention the invitation – about my godson's wedding?” She snorted with annoyance and almost contempt. “You’re doing the right thing, and have my full support, and the place to stay, for as long as you want.” 

Although you and Bucky preferred to freshen up and rest after your trip, Marion persuaded you to have dinner with her. Her justifications for why you should do so were really reasonable – firstly, her chef had served the meal minutes before you arrived; secondly, Marion was going to leave the house right after dinner, and as befits an exemplary hostess, she wanted to spend some time with her guests. And with that, you had the opportunity to get to know Bucky's aunt a little better.

She ran a casino and owned an elegant nightclub, she was independent not only financially – she had no husband and no children; she lived as she wished and with whom she wished, and she must have been really organized, since the businesses she operated did not fail, on the contrary, they were doing very well, as you could tell from the luxurious furnishings of her house, expensive designer clothes and sophisticated dishes, prepared by her costly chef. 

You were jealous of this life; maybe not its pace, but this independence – Marion Barnes didn't have to marry anyone to stay alive. You learned that the Barnes simply didn't do that – they didn't give away their children; they didn't arrange marriages; they didn't take part in weddings for the sake of business. Considering Timothy, this wasn't a very strong rule.

Pulled abruptly out of your sleep by something that seemed so terrifyingly real, your gaze wandered unconsciously over your surroundings; a new room, a strange room. Only after a while did you remember where you were and why. You were given two separate bedrooms; Bucky didn't care where he was going to sleep, and you felt a little more comfortable alone. But at that moment you didn’t feel comfortable at all. 

Memories of what you had just experienced swirled vividly in your mind – you were standing in Timothy's cave, wearing a white dress and veil, and you were about to be married by Elvis himself. The thing was, Bucky, your groom, was sitting in the front row right next to his uncle; they looked at you with amusement, whispered something to each other and burst out laughing. Bucky never stood at the altar; he whispered back and forth to Timothy and they both laughed. They laughed at you – at how stupid and naive you were.

You got out of bed and walked noiselessly to the bathroom. Having turned on the cold water, you washed your face. It helped; you felt less panicked. But were you still so sure of your decision?

Because of the dry air, your throat was craving water; anything to drink, so instead of returning to your bedroom, you went to the kitchen. Despite the fact that the whole house was air-conditioned, the downstairs was much more pleasantly cool than the floor above. Maybe you felt this way because of the cooled tiles your bare feet touched.

Having found a glass in one of the cabinets, you filled it with tap water; it had a slightly strange aftertaste, but you wouldn't call it bad. Besides, your dry throat would settle for anything.

“Can’t sleep?”

You almost dropped the glass. Though you knew his voice, you were still startled to see Bucky when you turned around. He was leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen entrance, and you – regardless of the temperature around – felt hot again. The muscles of his crossed arms strained and accentuated, but you had seen those before. Unlike his torso. You knew he had a broad chest, but shirtless it evoked a completely different sensation in you; you also expected a well-sculpted stomach, but expecting and seeing with your own eyes were two different things, and your own body didn't let you confuse the two experiences. And his thighs? Oh, his thighs…

Apart from his face – as beautiful when it expressed tenderness as when it expressed indifference, his spirit – so unpredictable but caring for you for no apparent reason, there was also his body – perfect, godlike, seeming to have cost a ton of work.

With restless eyes you scanned what was in front of you, your throat getting dry again. You were stunned, as if you had never seen a man in just his underwear before. You had. But you were convinced that you didn't miss any physical contact after that situation in the nightclub; after you almost let some man get into your pants. And you didn't miss it. You didn't miss just some man; you desired Bucky – you'd been drawn to him since that evening when he and Timothy turned up at your house.

You suddenly remembered that he could see you too; see the way you were looking at him. Tentatively, you lifted your gaze to his face – puffy because of the recently interrupted sleep, rested – and met his stare. For a brief moment you wondered why he let you do that; why he didn't stop you.

You brought the glass back to your lips and drank the rest of the water.

“I had a bad dream. And you..?”

“And I have my future wife in the back of my mind, and something told me to check if she was safe,” Bucky said with conviction, pulling away from the doorframe. He casually walked closer and rested his lower back against the edge of the kitchen counter. “Tell me.”

“About my dream?” you asked, to which he nodded. “There is nothing to talk about. It was... weird.” You shrugged. “I think... I think I'm subconsciously afraid of this wedding.” You nibbled your bottom lip and looked away. “You left me the first time, so who knows what will happen next time.”

Bucky gasped. “I didn't leave you. And I never was going to. I just changed the plan,” he asserted. “I know I should have told you earlier.” Seeing your lips parting, he interrupted you before you had the chance to speak. “I made a mistake, I know that now. And I will keep making them. I'm just learning, Y/N.”

“And all of this has no right to hurt me, and I can't get angry, because from the very start, you didn't want any of it. I get it,” you answered calmly.

“I didn't say that,” Bucky protested, standing right in front of you. “I said you're not in my debt, and that hasn't changed. I-” he paused for a moment, his mouth set in a hard line. “The truth is, I would not let you marry anyone else. I couldn't stand it. I would go fucking mad,” he added. Firmly, yet cautiously, he grabbed your hand and brought it to his face. Without taking his eyes away from yours, he placed a barely noticeable kiss on your palm; on the still unhealed cut. “I told you,” he whispered. “I stepped into your life, and now I can’t get out. Don’t want to. Okay?”

You replied with a delicate nod.

“No, baby,” Bucky continued in the same low tone, and a cloud of butterflies rose up in your stomach. “I need to hear it from you. To be sure you understand.”

Your bodies were only millimeters apart; you could feel the heat radiating from him, the warmth of his breath on your cheeks.

“I understand.”

“You understand what?” he asked softly, persistently searching for something in your eyes – Fear? Decisiveness? Resentment? Permission?

“That you’re jealous-”

“Very jealous.” His voice was more like a heavy breath.

“And that you would be angry if I married someone else-” you added. Bucky sucked hungrily on his bottom lip, his stare seemed half-conscious, he shook his head slowly. “You would go mad,” you corrected yourself.

“Mm-hm,” he murmured, and keeping his instincts in check, covered the rest of the distance separating you, then pressed his lips to yours. You instinctively lowered your eyelids, and as his soft mouth laid on yours, you were hit by a wave of unknown sensations. 

You welcomed him without thinking, throwing your arms around his neck. 

When you did; when you allowed his mouth to devour, to abuse yours, his inner leash tightened and then snapped, enabling him to let it all go. He thrust his body against yours with surprising force and need – it was so rapid that the bottom of your spine collided painfully with the edge of the countertops.

You moaned – not from the feeling of sudden discomfort in your lower back, but from the overload of impulses coming from everywhere; his lips turning the mouths of you both into a wet, sweet mess, his stubble so rough on your chin and cheeks, his massive body pushing against yours, caging it and cutting off a way out that you hadn't even considered.

Bucky's hands desperately slipped down the sides of your body, over the silky material of your nightgown, and stopped under your tights; he squeezed your ass, making you gasp. He lifted you up, and you involuntarily wrapped your legs around his hips; he sat you on the countertop and pressed himself between your thighs. His tongue slid between your lips, and again, you eagerly welcomed it. Warm, soft, wet, it explored the inside of your mouth, the texture and taste of your own tongue; and this time it was Bucky who let out a whimper – desperate, yearning for a feeling he'd never experienced before; this horrible hunger you were driving him into. There was no doubt that Bucky wanted you as much as you wanted him.

You felt something hard on the inside of your thigh. You barely pulled away from his mouth to see it – the material of his briefs stretching over his stiff cock, stopping it from jumping out. You felt lightheaded when staring at it, but also somewhat delighted – it was all for you, because of you. 

You dared to reach out your hand for what was soon to be yours; your fingertips touched - still through the material of his underwear – his bulging length, and Bucky let out a rasping sound. He immediately grabbed your wrist, stopping you from going any further.

With lips parted and swollen from kisses, eyes full of desire yet innocence, you looked at his face. He wasn't angry or displeased; he was burning with an aching need, and you both knew that sinking his cock inside you would put out that fire, ease that pain – for you both.

“I can’t,” Bucky said, panting. “I want to do it right, the way you deserve. And now I don't trust myself.” 

You didn't share his opinion – you were ready to take him now, anytime. But you respected his boundaries. “Okay,” you whispered; your voice weaker than you expected. Bucky smiled, then placed a tender kiss on your forehead. Not being able to resist, you glanced restlessly at his crotch again. 

“Don't worry, baby, I won't touch myself. I'll wait for you, promise,” he said with slight amusement somewhere into your hair, leaving another kiss there. He moved away a little.  “Come on. I'll walk you to your room,” he instructed and put his hands on your hips so that you could safely slide off the countertop. 

“You don’t have to, I’ll be fine,” you claimed, but in reality, you were glad to have him right next to you – your legs were like jelly.

“Yeah, I know, but-” He exhaled heavily, glancing down. “I need to, uh- walk it off.”

Drunk with all the touch, the heat, the wetness and the rest of the experiences of a moment ago, you let out a soft giggle.

True to his word, Bucky escorted you to your bedroom. Seeing his exposed body, remembering how much strength he possessed, you were amazed at how someone so big, so strong moved so silently. With that, you realized how little you knew about him; how little you had managed to observe so far in a man who was to play such an important role in your life.

Feeling his hand on your hip, you looked at him immediately. “You okay?” he asked.

You were tired, distracted, still insatiable. Nevertheless, you nodded in response, and after a brief consideration – which was more like staring into a black hole – you climbed on your toes, and, resting your hands on his shoulders, crashed your lips into his. Bucky instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing you against his body as tightly as possible. He grunted into your mouth. 

Although there was still that devouring fire smoldering between you, that kiss was different from the previous one – slow, lazy, as if you were giving each other time to get to know your lips, even though they were still pulsating from the last caresses. 

Bucky's mouth parted; he let out a loud, heavy breath. You sucked on his lower lip, then bit it - a little harder than you both expected; Bucky hissed, and you tasted blood. You pulled away, but he didn't look angry or even shocked. He touched his lips with his thumb, and when he saw the blood, he smirked. “Don’t make me break my promise, baby.”

“Sorry-” you said quietly, but he shook his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky answered, leaned towards you again and pecked on your lips gently. “If you have a bad dream again, you come to me, alright?”

“Alright.”

He opened the door for you and waited until you got inside and made your way back to the bed. He gave you another smile before disappearing from your sight.

You let out a heavy breath, closed your eyes and flopped back on the mattress. You were aware that you wouldn't fall asleep, but it wasn't the nightmares that were to blame.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine @pattiemac1 @marvel-fandom23 @rabbitrabbit12321 @xsecretsirenx @heyyitsreign @xhollycowx @samfreakingwinchester @thrnlvr @samjuarezzz

[hisui-dreamer]

gone to madness

Pairing: Floyd Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: if doing the same thing over and over was madness, then you supposed you weren't far off from insanity

Tags: friends to lovers, pining, angst with happy ending, kinda toxic relationships

Word count: 1.1k+

Notes: this was based off of my first love hehe highly recommend listening to cardigan and betty while reading this!!

Masterlist

How many times would you be willing to do the same thing, over and over, knowing it would all inevitably lead to despair?

They say madness is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results, but maybe your love for him had already driven you to the brink of insanity long ago.

Your love had sprouted early on, so much so you're not sure when exactly it happened. You just know that one day, when he came over to hang out with you just as he'd always done in the past, the butterflies fluttered in your stomach, and your heart thumped so loudly you almost thought the humans had thrown an anchor into the sea bed.

It was rather foolish of you to believe Floyd felt the same. Of course, he said he felt the same, but you're not sure how much you can rely on his statements.

Time and time again, you tried to become more than friends with him, to become the lovers in the fairytales. After all, the way you felt for him was so incredibly intense, it was the same way the mermaid princess felt when she decided to leave her home for love. You wanted to share that love with him, and for a while, he did too.

But you shouldn't have expected that much of him. Everyone in the deep sea knows how spontaneous Floyd can be—constantly tired of old hobbies, and seeking out new interests. It was surprising how long you remained in his life, but you assumed it was only because you provided him enough entertainment, but not too much attachment to be infringing.

It wasn't long before you realised a romantic relationship breached that line.

And so, the relationship quickly fell apart. The weight of heartbreak was almost unbearable, an unsettling pain in your heart that would not go away no matter how hard you tried, it was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You can’t deny the pain gets worse every time he’s in your line of sight, yet the sight of Floyd, his face contorted in a pout as he asked, "We're still friends, right, Shrimpy?" made it impossible for you to distance yourself from him.

This happened a few times, sometimes initiated by him, sometimes by you, all started by the hope that it would work this time. but despite the heartbreak that would always come when he got tired of the relationship, you always managed to rebuild your friendship, and your connection remained steadfast.

Then came the day Floyd left for school, along with his brother and the octomer they always hang around with. You considered all of you incredibly lucky: them, lucky for being so talented in magic to enter a prestigious school, and you, finally getting some distance from Floyd. The goodbye was filled with tears and promises to keep in touch, but as the months turned into a year, the void left by his absence was undeniable. You tried to move on, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something significant was missing from your life. It was pitiful really, he was doing so well, probably thriving and making so many new friends, and there you were, still stuck in the past with your pathetic feelings.

And when he came back from school for the holidays, it was as if he had never left at all. His return was like slipping back into old habits. The two of you sat in your room chatting just like you've always done, catching up with lost time.

'I missed ya so much Shrimpy!" he giggles as he squeezes your tail, an old habit of his.

Just like clockwork, you reach over to pat his head. "I missed you too, Floyd," your lips curving into a welcoming smile.

He leans into your touch, locking eyes with a vulnerability in his expression. "Ya know, I was thinking about it a lot, but I wanna try dating again."

Your heart races, surprised that he even thought of you when he was gone, but you've been down this road before. You want nothing more but to snuggle into his arms, leaving pecks all over his face, feeling his tail wrapped securely around yours. But you also remember the sleepless nights and the heartache that followed each previous attempt to be together. You hesitate, torn between your love for him and your fear of getting hurt again.

"Floyd," your voice quivers as you quickly pull away your hand, "You know this never works out. It's... best if we just stay friends."

He bolts upright at your words, clasping both of your hands gently, staring into your eyes with a seriousness you don't recognise.

"Shrimpy... I know I hurt ya, and I can't change what I did wrong. But I've grown, I've learned, and I promise I'll ya you right. You're the only Shrimpy for me."

Your gaze weighs heavy upon him. His sincerity shone through and you want to believe him, yet the raw wounds of the past lingered vividly. "I'm not sure we can stay as friends after this time," you managed, a bitter smile flickering.

Silence enveloped the two of you, laden with unspoken emotions.

"Shrimpy," he said, his voice trembling with emotion, "I... don't really know much, and ya know I always change my mind, but I know I really really missed ya! I promise ya, this time will be different. I'll love ya more than I can express, and I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to ya and treasure ya so so much."

You look into those earnest eyes, the determination evident, and you find yourself hesitating. What if... it could work?

"Floyd," you began, your voice soft, "I want to believe you, more than anything."

He leans closer and rests his forehead against yours. "We'll take it slow, yeah. 'm all in to make things right and make sure ya never doubt my love again"

Tears well up, a mixture of emotions swirling within as you pondered his words. A glint of hope stirs, a faint spark of optimism that just maybe, you could find a way to heal the wounds of the past and start anew.

"Okay, Floyd," you whisper, a delicate smile gracing your lips. "One final chance, you silly eel."

Floyd's face lit up with a mix of elation and relief, lifting you and twirling you around. "Really? I swear, Shrimpy! This is gonna be great. I'll treasure ya, and I'll make things right every single day, forever, for the rest of our lives!"

You can only hope he'll keep his promise. They say there's always some madness in love, and the two of you have always mad. So, maybe, just maybe, you'll be alright.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[dexlexia]

mine o' mine - jean x reader

pairing: jean kristien x reader rating: 18+ summary: “How many times do I have to tell you to be careful?” Jean asked as he placed the badage on your cheek, “You can't make freinds with stray cats.” Then leaned in to kiss you on the cheek.

You had only tried to lean down and kiss the creature on the head. But it proved to not work in your favour as it would rather claw at your face. Which left a cut on the skin. Which resulted in your husband tending to your wounds. tags: pwp, smut, gentle sex, cowgirl, loving husband and wife

“How many times do I have to tell you to be careful?” Jean asked as he placed the bandage on your cheek, “You can't make friends with stray cats.” Then leaned in to kiss you on the cheek. 

You had only tried to lean down and kiss the creature on the head. But it proved to not work in your favour as it would rather claw at your face. Which left a cut on the skin. Which resulted in your husband tending to your wounds. 

You didn't know the definition of being careful, you always had a tendency to walk on the 'wild side', even if that proved to cause you harm. You wanted to believe you were not some innocent being who was so prone to being harmed. But Jean worried, oh did he worry, after everything there it was surprising that he didn't keep you locked inside your home to keep you safe! There was so much bad out there in the world, there was no wonder he worried. 

But he had to let you go about your life, you wanted to be in the world. But you always came back to him with a basket of delicious treats to share during the cold evenings. You always came home to him, no matter what market you went to, and that was all that mattered. He wanted his wife at home with him. 

He wanted to see you at home with you, safe where you belonged. You didn't need another man as long as you had him. He'd always keep you safe! No matter what, no matter what laid in his way. 

He'd make sure his lovely wife was protected. And as he strokes your cheek you felt the warmth in your body. He was so close to you, in that button up shirt with the top button undone. It would do a fair bit to a woman. 

But he was so close, he was so painfully close that it wouldn't take much for you to lean in and kiss him on the lips. It would be within your right as you were his wife. But thoughts of what else he'd do to you that made your cheeks warmed. As he pulled away you placed a hand over your face to hide the blush. 

He tilted his head to the side, “What's going on, honey?” He got a bit closer, you could study every inch of his face with how close he was. But you pulled away, and he in turn grabbed you by the wrists and pulled you closer to him. 

  “Nothing, nothing.” You tried to look so he wouldn't notice your warm cheeks. But soon his lips were on you warmed skin and you let out a small noise in response. 

  “Is someone blushing?” He asked as he grabbed your face to look at him, his eyes met yours. That ol' horse face staring back at you, but you couldn't help but get warmer. Your blush inched further down your neck, but you couldn't advertise his gaze. 

  “You're just so close.” You replied. You had been married for some time now but him being so close to take care of you still let butterflies in your stomach. You reached for him and held his face parallel to his. “I can see every little mark on your face.”

He chuckled, “Well shouldn't a wife have the chance to see her husband up close?” He kissed you on the cheek where the bandage was, “After all, I think you're the most beautiful woman ever. Even if you take in strays.” 

You leaned in to kiss him on the lips delicately. You had no witty response for him. He had such a kind nature about him that you felt lucky to be with him. You had never met a man like him before, most want something as a reward for their kindness but not Jean. 

Jean only ever wanted you to see the best parts of him. After everything, was what he told you. After everything he had been through, he wanted a wife who saw who he was after his time in the corps.

 “I'm not that beautiful, Jean.” You remarked as you combed your fingers through his hair, “You're the one who has most of the looks.”

He pulled you in closer, your noses touched, “Well, then may our children have both of our beauty.” Then pulled you into a tight kiss as he pulled you on top of him. He laid on the bed with your face in his hands and he grinned at you.

You couldn't help but feel endeared to him. A deep burning inside of you as he started to undo your blouse. The feeling of his hands on you made you moan, which he responded to with kisses along your exposed chest. 

  “You're beautiful.” He said. His large hands cupped your breasts as he kissed them, “So, so beautiful.” His cock twitched in his pants as he moved back to your face. Those brown eyes gazed into yours. He smiled at you once more before he pulled you in for another kiss. 

You giggled, the feeling of him so close made your heart race. “Jean.”

 “Don't worry, I got you.” His hand reached your breasts which he massaged. Soon your bra was off and his thumb and pointer finger were playing with your nipples. You moaned against his neck. He knew how to make you feel good. 

He kissed your soft skin, basking in the feeling of your warmth. He could never want another woman. Not when he could have you. His continued to kiss your skin and you melted in his arms. But soon kissing was not enough so the man had to start exploring further. 

You pulled away from him and got the hair out of your eyes, “Do you want me that badly?” 

  “How could I not, you're my wife! I want you more than anything. There is nothing else I could want more than you. So come here, let me see my wife.” He chuckled as he got your pants off and then he started to get his own clothes off. 

His hands roamed your body once you were nude. He admired your beauty, every curve, every mark, and every place your skin dimpled. He adored you, he wanted you. He thought you were the most beautiful creature on the planet.

Both naked on your bed, he kissed you passionately. He felt his heart race as he kissed you. The woman to bring in every stray. He guessed that's why you brought him home. He was just another stray. But he loved you so much. You were so perfect, there was an elegance to you. Not in the traditional way, but in a way that only he could see. 

  “I love you.” He said.

  “I love you too.” You replied before you moved further away from him. You placed both of your hands on his bare chest and gazed down at him with a chest brimming with love. Even in late afternoon light, he still looked divine. He looked like home. 

You loved him. 

He placed his hands over yours as you slowly seated yourself onto his cock.  You held hands while you endured the stretch of his cock. He was always so thick in the base that it took the wind out of you when it finally all fit. You neve suspected your husband having a problem with it fitting inside of you.

When you got comfortable, you let out a soft moan and he placed his hands on your hips. He started to roll them gently, nudging his cock into sensitive places that made your toes curl. A sharp sensation moved through your body as you started to move your hips. 

It felt very good, it was tinged with pain but the more you endured it, the more pleasure that raced through your body. You held onto him as you bucked your hips to get every last inch of him inside of you. You wanted to feel your husband. You wanted to feel him deep inside of you the only way a husband and wife could. 

He groaned and held onto you as you moved. You kept a hold of his shoulders as you laid on his chest to get a better angle of his cock inside of you.You felt amazing, the pleasure coursed through you as you rolled your hips. He leaned down and kissed you once more, his facial hai rubbed up against you.

Then he moved his hands and placed them on your ass so he could get as deep as possible inside you. You moaned loudly into the kiss and he gave your ass a quick smack. The sensation made you moan louder. His tongue slipped into your mouth and he explored up against your molars. 

You pulled away to catch your breath, and he looked at you with nothing about admiration in his eyes. He was obsessed with you. He was so lucky to have you as his wife, to adore you. He wanted to make love to you all the time, the feeling of closeness between two people. 

  “Honey.” He said.

 “Jean.” You replied before you took his face in your hands and started to kiss him once more. The bed creaked under you as the two of you continued to move your bodies up against one another. Your heart was racing as you made love to him. It was so simple yet it felt so right. 

You loved Jean, it was as simple as that. You never wanted someone in your life so badly, but here he was despite everything. He was your husband at the end of the day. And you couldn't ask for anything more. As you kissed him over and over again, you felt a sense of euphoria. You rolled your hips quickly to meet with his pace and you felt the moans bubble in your throat. 

  “That's it, honey.” He moaned, “That's it, god. You're amazing. I love you so much.“ 

 ”I never want anyone else.“ You respond as you move your body against him. Your lips touched once more as you felt the curl of pleasure in your gut. You moaned into the kiss. It wasn't much longer now before you climaxed. You held onto him for dear life as you continued to passionately make out with him. 

  ”Good, because I only want you.“ And you believed him. As your bodies moved together the feeling of climax became overwhelming. You held onto each other as you kissed once more. Your heart raced as you moved. You almost felt light headed with your lips feeling raw from all the kissing. 

  ”Jean.”

  “Don't worry, I got you.”

You clutched into him, you felt the rise of pleasure. It was becoming undeniable. You grit your teeth as he gazed at you. Your cunt tightened around him as you moved against him. You are tightened from the euphoria of sex with your husband. You could never imagine yourself like this with anyone else.

You were so devoted to him. He pulled you into one last kiss, he held onto your hips and quickly thrusted up into you. He groaned against you, his hot breath against your skin as he felt close to his own climax. 

  “You complete me.” He groaned as he quickened his pace. He held onto you tightly as he thrusted up into you. His cock hit against all your most sensitive areas and you felt the moans spill out of your mouth. There was no way to escape the feeling. He groaned as your nails dug into his skin. His face was flushed, he felt hot all over.

And with one more searing kiss. One last hot kiss, he finished inside you. And together you both climaxed. You clenched your thighs from the sensation of orgasm. The noise you made as you kissed was guttural and primal. It was hot. 

When you pulled away you felt light headed as you panted wildly. And then with a heavy exhale you fell into his arms. He caught you and turned to his side to cuddle you. His cock slipped out of you and a bit of cum pooled at your inner thigh and eventually down onto the sheets. But neither of you minded, you were both wrapped in a soft embrace.

  “You're perfect,” His thumb touched the bandage on your cheek, “No more taking in strays, okay?” he kissed the skin, “I need my wife to be safe.”

You chuckled softly, “With you, Jean, I'm always safe.” 

[grievedeeply]

Please please please do a gow kratos! daughter x the spiders 'v' i meannn the multiverse IS real... hehehehehehehe

i actually really like this idea.. a crossover between two of my favorite things right now really gets me giggling LOL. these are all sorta short, but i didn't want to repeat myself too much. thanks for the request!

fem!reader | no tws

the spiders with kratos' daughter (god of war crossover)

miles morales

you're the daughter of a god? gods are actually a real thing? like, greek gods?

miles freaks out a little. not because you scare him but because he has SO many questions! he's a curious person and has to resist the urge to ask you about literally everything

he thinks you're so cool, even if you're a bit intimidating at first. he can only assume that's because you're a literal gods child

i can just picture you saying "oh yeah my dad killed this god" and his jaw drops. how you say it so casually is just- he's so confused

BUT he does really like you!

arm wrestling that results in you winning every time is definitely something that frequently happens

gwen stacy

similarly to miles, gwen is really curious. she's curious about how you ended up in her world, mostly. aren't you like.. supposed to be worshipped, or something? shouldn't you be busy?

she isn't afraid to ask her questions though, practically showering you in them the first time you meet. you barely have time to react before she asks her next one

though, you become fast friends

gods being real isn't something that surprises her? she accepts it really quick. after all, the multiverse is a thing, why are gods so far fetched?

she'll listen super intently to whatever you feel like telling her. she thinks you're awesome but she won't say it to your face

hobie brown

your dad killed an oppressive god with an evil regime? awesome

you definitely have some similar opinions, so you get along really well. he wants to hear everything about where you come from, like.. how did you even manage to get to his universe?

he doesn't care about that though, he's got a new friend, and that's the most important part of it all

he's super laidback about you being a god, and he doesn't ask any questions. but he's happy to listen if you feel up to talking about your dad or where you come from

he treats you like he does anyone else. he doesn't want you feeling out of place or unwelcomed <3

pavitr prabhakar

brags about you to everyone

"my friend, the goddess-" type stuff. you explain that you're only half god, but pav does not care. you're just soooo cool in his eyes

you become his best friend immediately. he shows you everything in his universe that he thinks you'll like or reminds him of you

he was shocked to find out the greek gods existed, but he doesn't linger on it for very long because you're standing in front of him and he has QUESTIONS

asks you about your world all the time. he wants you to feel at home in his universe too <3

[karlachismylife]

OK 🆗 this isn't a ask I just wanted to say

We all love you and we are amazed and proud of you every day for doing what you do I love your work and believe you are as a person too and I know I probably won't ever meet you in irl but I want you to know that we are here for you as much as you are here for us <3 Love you pumpkin🎃 stay bright! Were her if you fall.

That's such a sweet thing to receive, love, thank you! I'm holding this message right to my heart and feel it calming down. I'm really not proud of myself in general, but as long as I can make people smile and want them to tell other people kind words, I think that's my mission successful.

Since you gave me this pretty pumpkin and we're approaching Halloween, here are some headcanons about task force 141 carving pumpkins.

CW: gn!reader, mild injury mentioned in Gaz's part.

Used the cutest dividers by @saradika-graphics

Soap is the Halloween kid. This might be his favourite holiday of the year (maybe second after Christmas), and the older he got, the more elaborate his celebration became. So you shouldn't have been surprised when one day he grabbed you and dragged along to a proper farmer's market. You just followed him, as he circled around stalls filled with rich harvest, wagging his metaphorical tail, and loaded a little trolley with pumpkins - you surely weren't naive enough to expect him to just choose one, but when he struggled to balance five on top of each other, you had to pat him on his shoulder and caefully suggest that maybe five was more than enough.

You can't really tell how he managed to convince you to help him carry two more, while all thee gaps too small for pumpkins in the trolley got filled with turnips.

At home, you took one look at his sparkling blue eyes, bright asa deep loch on a cool autumn morning, and started covering the whole kitchen in newspapers and oilcloths. And judjing by the whole arsenal of tools Soap whipped out, you made the right call - you only solidified in your decision to cover the floor and windowsills when he grabbed a powerdrill. "Tae scoop all the shite from th' inside," he explained, checking the circular blade and whatever that constructional whisk was.

"Johny, love, are you sure we can't empty them the normal way-"

"Aye we can, tha's nae fun tho, right, bonnie? C'mere, Ah'll show ye."

Yeah, you certainly didn't overprepare with the covers. Everything got covered in pumpkin guts, Johnny's palms were two shades oranger and you had to tug him down to get a few strings stuck in his mohawk,

"Mm, sweet. We can make soup from the scraps," you licked the juice from your thumb, smiling a little to broadly to pretend that going ham on pumpkins with powertools wasn't fun. Johnny, wiping sweat off his forehead and panting after he took on the biggest one - a real monster - solo, grinned like an idiot in return and kissed the sweet taste off your lips.

"Aye. Or cookies. Ah'll clean up, bonnie, and ye collect the seeds, aye? Gonnae fry them too."

After you cleaned the kitchen together from the main carniage, Soap pulled a chair out for you and finally reached for some more traditional tools for the job - although you had to cower a few times when he drilled starter holes to get some work space for the blade.

Johnny was extremely protective over his designs, hiding his work from you and turning his pumpkins away, only showing you the end results with the proudest chest puff ever. They were quite detailed and drastically different from one another, but all scowly, sharp pumpkin fangs and triangle eyes - very, very spooky. When you showed him yours, with round silly eyes, he looked at it for a few moments, tilting his head to one shoulder and then the other, and finally gave his verdict.

"Very cute. Wanntae drill 'im a mouth?"

You spent the whole evening carving all the pumpkins - and the turnips had to wait for a whole another weekend before you managed to go through the giant veggie pile together. There were enough cut scraps for soup and cookies both. Your drill had an orange hue that couldn't be washed off easily.

But the look on Johnny's face, when you lit up all the candles inside them and fixed some fake cobweb he pulled out along all the other decorations, was so worth it all.

As soon as you told Gaz that you wanted to carve pumpkins together, he planted a kiss on your knuckles and grabbed his cap off the shelf to go to the store. Sure, you would've loved to choose them together, but you trusted he would bring back some nice ones - which is why you were surprised to see him with two completely different pumpkins, a small pale one and a much bigger, bright orange.

"Don't look at them like that, angel, I have an idea," you must've looked really upset with the unfair pumpkin difference, because Kyle laughed softly and pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead and temples. "How about we make a pumpkinburster? You know, the little one clawing its way out from the big one, like in Alien? Pretty creepy, innit?"

That was damn clever, you couldn't lie. Together, you sat down with your respective pumpkins next to you, and sketched for a bit, coming to an agreement over one of the designs - Kyle promised he'll make sure the combined construction would hold together, and you chose the vibe and the way your little pumpkinburster would creep out of the deseased bigger gourd.

Kyle made sure to stock up on snacks and drinks, and put yet another movie from your horror marathon - every day since October 1st, several rounds on days off - on, preparing for your carving session. He took the big boy on himself, leaving you to work on the little guy with all the time for details you could ask for. You sat there, the tip of your tongue stuck between your teeth, going with a tiny scalpeel blade on the little scary teeth of your pumpkinburster, when suddenly the knife slipped on the juice slick covering the place you were diging into, and with a surprised gasp you cut the pad of your thumb.

"Ouch, love, wait, let me see, shush, stay still-" Kyle dropped his knife faster than you even fully realized what happened. Carefully, he grabbed your hand, wiping off pumpkin waste and quickly gathering blood, and inspected the cut with a concentrated look on his face. "Hm. I'm no medic, but I suppose your survival rates are quite high."

Earning a chuckle, he kissed your hurting thumb and then you, before getting up to fetch some better, sterile wipes and a bandaid - after some rummaging, he returned and presented you Halloween-themed bandaids.

"Saw them at the store the other day, couldn't resist, lovie. Wanna have a pumpkin one to remember what battle gave you that scar?" - "No, thank you, I'll take the one with skeletons."

Needless to say, Kyle hovered over you for the rest of the evening, making sure to watch you with all the sharp blades. Somehow, he managed to finish his "chestbursted" pumpkin too, and under your supervision he carefully combined the two, creating your gore galore.

"Do you think we can put a candle in there too?" You asked, leaning your head on his shoulder to admire your work. Chuckling in response, Gaz kissed the crown of your head and sighed dreamily.

"Of course, angel. Whatever you want."

Price took your suggestion to decorate your shared home with a carved pumpkin very seriously. You saw him going through the next few days, stopping at random times and staring into the void - and each time he responded to your concerned questions that he just got another idea for a nice pumpkin design.

Once he had enough of brainsstroming, he took you to go pumpkin shopping; grumbling all the way about how there aren't any "proper" pumpkins left, he, however, trusted your choice completely, agreeing with each and every one you pointed one to him. "Yes, love, that one would be perfect. Oh, you're right, this is even better, look at 'er, so bright... ya wanted another shape? Sure, darling, whatever ya say."

When you brought your prize home, though, everything completely changed: without as much as allowing you to cut the gourd open and take the insides out, John stole it and dragged to his woodwoking table, muttering something under his nose. You were baffled: never would you take him for a greedy pumpkin hoarder, but the truth was right there, all the creative control concentrated in his capable hands.

You waited for hours for him to come out so that you could give him a piece of your mind for cutting you off from the fun, but eventually all the outrage subsided, leaving you to worry about John - he didn't even show his nose when you called for lunch, and all you heard from his workshop area was constant tool buzzing and muffled curses.

Finally, you decided no pumpkin was worth starving himself, so you took a plate with his lunch and carefully entered the working area, immediately inhaling rich pumpkin smell.

"Love, I brought you something to eat... maybe take a little break?" Not wanting to startle him while he was working with a woodcarver, you stopped a few feet shy from his table and reached your neck to sneak a peek at his work.

The rough shape of the face his pumpkin had was terrifying. The ugliest mug you could imagine, something between a scowling smile and... and a Monster INC monster. Even half-done, it looked incredibly detailed, and judging by the amount of tools covered in orangy waste laid out, John used almost everything from his arsenal to carve it.

"Sorry, love, you said something?" Finally noticing you, he put the tool down and turned to you, blinking in confusion when you burst into laughter - how could you not, though, with his beard having te perfect orange shade, thoroughly moisturized with pumpkin juice too.

"I see you've had your lunch break already, but maybe eat something a bit more filling? The pumpkin's not gonna run away. Although it looks capable of anything. Did you have to make it that creepy?"

You leaned down to kiss John, his cheeks clearly blushing from your praise of his ablities to create the ugliest pumpkin critter possible - or from realization how he must look, since you took a napkin and tried wiping his beard clean.

"'Course, darling. How else are we going to scare all the kids away from eating our sweets?"

You were cozying up with Ghost with The Nightmare Before Christmas on - part of your attempts to convince him to wear a Jack Skellington costume - when you hummed at some of the movie background beauty and muttered: "Gotta make sure to go shopping before they buy all the nice pumpkins... wanna come with me? Choose yourself which one you want to do?"

The silence that followed was deafening enough for you to shake the mild sleepiness off and toss in Simon's lap, turning over like a sausage on a stick, tangling in the oversized hoodie (also Simon's, obviously) until you finally managed to push the hood that was obstricting your view off your face and stare at the man himself. Did you even ask out loud or did you even think the question?

"Which one I want to what?" Finally asked Simon, looking at you a little too seriously - his blond eyebrows furrowed as if you asked him a rather complicated mathematical equation, not if he wants to choose his own Halloween entertainment.

"Which one you want to carve? Like, make a Jack-o'-lantern? I thought we could just have each our own pumpkin, make them matching or something. You don't want to?" It was your turn to look confused, but you let your head fall back into his lap and looked at him with a smile. "Don't worry, I won't force you. I can just do a little one for myself."

"No." Simon finally managed a word out and found your thigh to squeeze - for moral support. He looked like he was processing the whole concept of sitting down as a family and carving Halloween decorations together, and you scanned his face, trying to guess what exactly he was thinking. "Let's do each one. But you choose 'em, lovie, I don't know shit 'bout 'em pumpkins."

You wondered if that would be his first time doing this at all or just in a really long time - so you picked up a nice, beginner-friendly, almost cartoon-perfect pumpkin for him and a slighly more lumpy for yourself. "It's got character!" defended you it when Simon looked at your yellowish monster and said it looked "more interbred than the royal family tree".

All that smugness vanished, though, once you sat him down at the kitchen table with a Halloween playlist in the background and dove head first into carving, your enthusiasm making up for the lack of technique.

Simon barely moved, constantly peeking at you and your stabbed interbred gourd. He just managed to start cutting out the circle cap in its head by the time you had already been scraping the inner walls with a spoon - you've never seen him less confident with a knife. Usually it was you who had to be extra attentive with all kinds of blades, while Simon cut anything and everything with a few efficient swipes.

Right now he looked no more capable than a toddler with a plastic knife.

"Need some help, baby?" You asked carefully, and after thirty seconds of inner turmoil, Simon responded with a defeated grunt. Chuckling, you got up, kissed the corner of his scarred lips and snuck behind him, intending to guide his hands Ghost style. Pottery might be more suited, but it still felt heartwarming to show him how to finish that top hole, leaving more or less curvy lines instead of the sharp corners he made with his cuts. "Ooh, look how bright the pulp is! Must be yummy."

You cut yourself a little piece of that bright orange sweetness - as a tax for helping him - and laughed, kissing Simon right after to share it. Then you gave him a sharpie and advised to draw his design on first. It might've been the sightly dimmed lighting in the kitchen, where you already put a few candles for the vibes, or the light reflecting off your bright pumpkins, but his ears definitely seemed quite glowy.

"Hey, no peeking! You have to make up your own face!" You covered your pumpkin from him, but Simon leaned to grumble into your ear, kissing and nibbling on it ticklishly, and seized the moment to grab your creation and turn it around.

There was a pause.

"The fock is tha', lovie." Looking at his dumbfounded face, you snorted and reached to peck him on his nose bump. You knew he'd looove seeing his skull mask recreated in a pumpkin with your less than finesse artistic additions.

"That's my Ghostunkin. You like him? You should, he's your twin!"

"Oi, c'mere ya little shit!"

[skywarpie]

In the Shadow of Memories

Anyway, ao3 is down and my computer is broken, so you guys get the fic here for the time being.

Tw: nothing much except isolation, and depression. But nothing like super bad. Nsft at the end and use of sex as a vice ig

Word count: 3,758

Summary:

Copia learns he doesn't have to be alone anymore.

Longing is something that he sometimes thinks he was born with. An itch that can't be scratched, save only for the sake that no one offers to scratch it. The longing of childhood – knowing that he never fits in no matter what. How he watched the other children as he was growing up, saw how their parents doted on them. How their siblings poked fun at them. It was something he never had, even though it was no further than arms length away.

He was seven when he slowly began to piece the pieces together.

Sister Imperator, though stern, seemed to show favoritism to him. It did nothing to help his social standings.

Then he'd overheard her speaking to Nihil. Talking about how their child was not shaping up to be everything he should be. Copia had wanted to scream at them, but it would draw attention to himself, and that didn't really bode well for eavesdropping.

Shortly after he'd tried to make connections with the elder three brothers.

Primo had seemed indifferent. Kind but indifferent.

Secondo had ignored him altogether, acting like he didn't even exist. Sometimes he didn't feel like he really did.

Terzo had – well Terzo had been his last hope. They were closer in age than the other two. Sure he was nearly fifteen years his senior, but it couldn't hurt to try, right? As a result of his hopefulness, Terzo had taken advantage of every situation, doing any and everything and leaving Copia to take the blame for. He was well aware Copia would never voice his own innocence.

By age ten, he'd been reprimanded more than any other child in the ministry for crimes he wasn't responsible for. Sister's irritation had grown and Papa Nihil’s hatred had taken a dark turn. Sometimes he shut the door in Copia's face, sent him on wild goose chases, it was all too much.

It shouldn't have been any surprise when a ghoul fetched him from his lessons one morning. Informed him his things had been packed and he would be set on a train to the airport. From there, he would make his way to Rome, where he would stay for the foreseeable future.

He'd wanted to ask. Why am I being sent away? I can be better. Where is Sister Imperator? Why wasn't she taking him to the airport?

But he already knew all the answers to those questions.

He was a bother. Cumbersome in a small bubble that held the Emeritus line, something that was already fragile enough without his unannounced parenthood.

Copia remembers trying to hold the large ghoul's hand as he stood in the airport. Wanting some sort of comfort, even if it was from someone sending him away. Instead, he'd been scolded. Told he should know better at his age.

He'd retracted his hand as if burnt and boarded the plane without so much as a hug, let alone a goodbye.

—

The years slowly bleed together as time continues its endless march.

Now at the young age of twenty-six, Copia has managed to become the youngest Cardinal in the church. He should be proud of himself, happy that he's accomplished something, but he's not. Being completely abandoned by one's family tends to have that sort of effect. Since his arrival here, Sister has sent not a single letter. He should know better but it doesn't sting any less.

“Are you listening?”

Cardinal Astra's voice draws Copia from his spiraling thoughts. “Huh?”

“Where do you go, piccolo ratto?”

Astra has been nothing but Hell sent from the day Copia arrived. The man had taken him under his wing and for a short while Copia got to truly experience what it felt like to have a figurative father. Even now, he still looks over Copia. He just wishes Astra's love could heal that continued hole inside himself. Maybe if he'd been his father instead of Nihil, maybe he wouldn't feel this way.

“I – I am sorry.” Anxious eyes travel downward to settle on the stone floor. He gets lost often, something everyone is accustomed to.

Cardinal Astra smiles softly. “Working hours are over. You are free to leave this cramped office and spend time with your friends.”

Friends. That word makes him nauseous. He's never had friends. He's had acquaintances but never friends.

“Ah – ehm – apologies.” Copia jumps up quickly, collecting his paperwork. “I will leave now. I –”

Astra grabs his wrist. “Copia, you do not need to hide yourself away. We are a congregation and we take care of each other, no?”

Copia nods, knowing he will not be doing that.

–

Copia grunts as his face is pushed further into the sheets. One eye squished shut. The other is trying to remain open despite the massive hand planted on his cheek. A brother of sin mounts him from behind, hips pounding into him like a jackhammer. He should feel something – anything, Copia knows this. Yet his cock hangs limp between his legs, swaying every now and then with each thrust. Copia knows he won't cum tonight. The brother of sin is a bit too harsh for his liking, but then again, Copia hasn't ever cum during these trysts at all to begin with.

A squeak escapes him as the brother thrusts at an uncomfortable angle. Unfortunately for Copia, the man takes it as encouragement and begins pistoning his hips in that motion until he finally cuts.

Copia clamps his eyes shut tight as what should be warmth from the cum inside him is slightly uncomfortable rather than pleasurable. The man pulls out with a grunt, flopping down beside him.

“Fuck that was good.”

Well, at least someone enjoyed it.

It's not like he agrees to these things because he necessarily wants them, rather than in times of desperation for other human touch he'll take a partner to bed. Sometimes he goes to their bed. It depends on his mood at the time.

He's also found himself preferring the brothers to the sisters. The brothers are easily able to over power his lithe frame, manhandle him in any way they want. Sometimes if Copia closes his eyes he can almost imagine it's a loving hug.

But it's not and it never will be.

Copia grunts as he tries to stretch his body out. The position having left him in a cramped state. He squeaks as a hard slap meets the meat of his ass.

“For a twitchy little guy, you sure are a good lay.”

It's a joke – or rather it should be, judging by the way the man laughs breathlessly.

Copia's barely had time to pull his face from the sheets before the brother is dressing and collecting his things. He says something, but honestly Copia doesn't bother to register it. He's leaving anyway. They always leave after.

–

He grabs the towel, drying off his hair and then his body. Then he steps out of the shower, discarding the towel.

Copia wipes the condensation from the bathroom mirror. He sees – honestly, he isn't sure what he sees looking back at him.

His reflection is tired. Even without the black eye makeup. His ribs poke out just a bit too much to be considered healthy. A tired sigh leaves his lips as his gaze settles on the bruises that decorate his whole body. It's a symbol that at least for a short while someone considered him something worthy of love. Even if it was just for a quick fuck.

Copia rubs his eyes before grabbing his robe and wrapping himself in the fluffy fabric. It grounds him. Gives him something to hold onto, to prove he's real.

He makes his way to his bedroom and lies on his back on the freshly changed sheets. He stares at the ceiling. Maybe tomorrow will be another day. A better one.

It won't be, but maybe he can hope.

–

The pen scratches against the paper as he signs off on another document. By now, he's more than positive that he could sign his own name with his eyes closed. That's not really something to be proud of, so to say. But there isn't really much to be proud of when it comes to him.

“You missed breakfast.”

Cardinal Astra stands in the doorway, tray in hand.

Copia knows how lethargic he must look when he glances up. “Mi dispiace. I have been working on this.” He motions to the paperwork.

Astra purses his lips. “You also missed lunch.”

Oh please, don't do this again. Please. Please. Please.

“And it seems that you also missed dinner last night. If the ghouls are to be believed.”

Copia tries to respond but he's shushed.

“We talked about this, Copia. It is unhealthy. You must eat.”

It's not that he doesn't want to eat, so much as what has he done to deserve it? Did he finish all his paperwork? Did he answer correctly when asked questions? Is he even worth keeping around?

It's easy for him to brush it off as forgetfulness. Oh, I was so busy I forgot to eat. Silly me! It doesn't work on anyone, but then again, does anyone even care? Well, besides Astra.

“Sì. Sì. I am well aware of that.”

Is he though? If he was he wouldn't be putting himself through all this emotional and physical turmoil.

“I just – just got distracted.”

Copia sees the look he receives. Distracted enough to still be able to take a brother of sin to your bed?

Copia wilts.

Astra heaves a sigh as he comes fully into the room, shutting the door behind him.

No. No. No. This is not good.

“I had planned to tell you this over dinner last night.” He heaves another sigh. “You are leaving the abbey by the end of the month.”

Leaving? His head is spinning a mile a minute. What has he fucked up now? Why's he never able to fucking do anything right? Why – “Be-because I missed a few meals?” Copia hates the way his voice cracks.

“No.” There's a pregnant pause and Copia finds himself spiraling even more. “Your mo – Sister Imperator, requests that you return to the main abbey.”

“What?”

Astra smooths the front of his cassock. “I have no say in the matter, piccolo ratto. If I did, you'd never have to leave this place.”

He doesn't want this. He wants to stay here, in Rome. He wants –

“Sometimes He gives us obstacles that he thinks will strengthen us. Even if they seem like punishments at the time.”

It's then that Copia finally breaks down. He's being sent away as a punishment yet again.

–

The Swedish abbey is larger than he remembers. It's colder – not a surprise, and more densely populated. Albeit polite, a majority of the siblings look at him with disdain. He's a high ranking newcomer, of course they would.

The first week had been odd. Imperator doted on him as if she were a loving mother finally seeing her son again. Only one of those things was true.

She'd ensured he knew where is office was. How far away his room was. How much paperwork he was to expect and it was expected to be done.

She'd even introduced him to a gaggle of ghouls. Saying that since he ranked so highly, he required protection. Something told him it was just so she could spy on him. Copia was already a nervous man, this did nothing to help ease the issue.

It was easy to fall into a quick routine. The paperwork is really no different than what he did in Rome. It's the one familiarity in this new foreign land.

Unlike his younger self, Copia makes no effort to engage his brothers. He already knows how those interactions will end. Him with an even more broken heart and the feeling of isolation strangling him.

It still confuses him how Sister acts. When he was younger, she never even gave him a glance. Now it's like he was some sort of prodigal son returned to his home.

It made his skin crawl.

–

Slowly, Copia begins to acquaint himself with the ghouls.

Cirrus and Cumulus, the two ghoulettes seem to welcome him with open arms. Cumulus is quick to always have a firm hand on his upper arm. She'll then flash him a smile and it leaves Copia at a loss that someone else he hardly knows is aware of how to calm him. Cirrus is always first to give praise. Good boy! Oh, Cardinal, you work so hard. Take a break. It makes his head swim and he feels like he's in a fog at sea.

It doesn't take long for him to piece together that ghoul packs are female dominant. After the two of them start treating him like one, Copia notes how the other ghouls begin following the same act.

Rain is quiet. Mostly communicating through chirps and trills. He's small, not the smallest, but it's clear he's the youngest. In no time, Copia finds himself with a lap full of ghoul anytime he's in the den. It's almost comforting.

Mountain is – large. So much so that Copia has to tilt his head back to even see the ghoul's face. Not only is he the largest ghoul Copia has ever seen, but he's also the most quiet. The ghoul hardly ever makes a sound.

Swiss is…well, Copia isn't sure how to feel about Swiss. He seems feral most of the time, stalking the rooms, looking for something or someone to get into. It makes Copia uneasy and he tries to avoid him at all costs.

Dewdrop is entirely unapproachable. The ghoul hisses and spits anytime Copia is even in the same room as him. His words are just as harsh as his bite. On more than several accounts, Copia has left the room feeling like he is the size of an ant.

Then there's Aether.

The ghoul is large. Not as large as Mountain, but he's stocky. Oftentimes when in his company, Copia finds himself wondering how those large arms would feel encircled around him. How Aether could easily manhandle him into whatever situation he wants. It sends a chill down his spine and it often ends with him in his room at night, cock in hand and working himself to completion.

It's a nice change from the typical absence of arousal he's felt. But it's also frightening. What does this say about him? That he's so desperate he's gone to fantasizing about ghouls – his ghouls. It's a new feeling he's unfamiliar with and it fills him with dread. It's bad enough his habit of taking partners to bed has followed him here, but if Imperator finds out he's having feelings – let alone relations with his ghouls, well…that could be disastrous.

–

“Cardinal?”

Aether's smooth voice settles in Copia's ears like a warm hug.

“Uh – please – ehm – call me C-Copia.”

His voice wavers and he knows he has to look just as miserable as he sounds.

“Copia.”

It ignites something inside the Cardinal. The way his name rolls off Aether's tongue like honey. He wants more. He wants to hear his name said like that for the rest of his days.

“It's lunch time.”

Oh. Copia shakes himself. “Ah – thank you, but I need to finish this first.” Copia points to the stack of papers on his desk. He wears a weary smile.

“You can take time to eat. You're allotted a lunch break, right?”

“Well, uh yes but –”

“No buts.” Aether makes his way to plant both hands on Copia's desk. “You need to eat.”

Copia sighs defeatedly. “Alright. Fine. Fine.”

He lets himself be led in the direction of the cafeteria. He manages to eat half of some sort of sorry excuse for pasta. The whole while he listens to Aether speak of his packmates. How they're annoying. How he loves them even if he thinks of killing some of them sometimes.

It makes Copia sad and it must show as he begins picking at his food.

“Copia?”

“Hmm?” He doesn't look up from the plate. It feels like far too much effort.

“Is everything okay?” Aether's voice is tentative.

“Sì, just a bit distracted.” He offers a tired smile and it seeks to settle the ghoul.

“And you?”

Copia is entirely caught off guard. He's zoned out during Aether's spiel, getting lost in the lull of his voice. It's only now he realizes this part of the conversation is aimed at him.

It must show on his face and Aether takes pity, repeating the question. “I said my pack mates can be an issue, but they're still important to me. Then I asked about you.”

“What about me?”

“I asked if you felt the same way with your brothers.”

The fork makes a loud clunking noise as he drops it and it bounces on the floor. Does everyone know? Did they know long before he even did?

Copia feels bile rising in the back of his throat. Feels his eyes beginning to sting in that all too familiar way. He has to get out of here. It was a mistake even coming to the cafeteria with the ghoul. He doesn't even realize he's trembling, breathing heavily until a large hand covers his own.

“It's okay.” Aether's voice is soft. Almost as soft as his eyes. “You don't have to answer. I shouldn't have asked to begin with.”

“No, it's – it's –” Copia deflates altogether. He's so tired of pretending nothing is ever wrong. He's just …tired. “To be completely honest, I do not even think they know I exist.” The laugh that follows is meant to be relaxing, but it's self depreciating.

“What do you mean?”

Why does Aether just keep making this more and more harsh. “It is…hard to explain.” His hands move as he talks. “They are aware that I exist. They just ..eh –” he scratches his head. “I can not think of the word in this language.”

“Care.” Aether finishes for him. “They don't care?”

Copia nods. It sounds even worse when it's said out loud. It sounds even more crushing.

“That's okay. You don't need them. You got us, and me.”

Aether winks at Copia as he squeezes his hand. He wants to shout, exclaim how it's so nice to finally maybe feel like a person. But it doesn't keep the question between them from hanging in the air.

But for how long?

–

Months eventually turn into a year and Copia has made a semi comfortable life for himself here. Each day he eats most of his meals with Aether. The ghoul has made it his personal mission to ensure he eats three solid meals a day. As a result, he's picked up a couple pounds. Where once his ribs protruded, now a small paunch makes itself known.

It happens when Aether is at his apartments one night. He's helping Copia go over some numbers for the yearly budget. Who initiates it, he can't say, but be quickly finds himself sinking into the ghoul's affection.

Copia has his arms wrapped around Aether's neck, kissing him like his life depends on it. Their teeth clack together. Aether's tongue hesitantly asks entrance and Copia lets him in. As soon as his jaw is slack enough, Aether is licking into the Cardinal's mouth. A large hand on the back of his head pulls him further into the kiss until Aether is essentially tongue fucking his throat. He wants it to last but he really needs air.

They break apart, a small trail of saliva still connecting them. Copia gulps down lungfuls of air. His brain doesn't even have time to second guess itself, as Aether undresses him in a swiftness he wasn't aware the ghoul had.

It's only when he's lying naked beneath the ghoul that it dawns on him. He's actually erect this time. It knocks the air from his lungs to realize this is all because of Aether.

Their lips are on each other again, hands exploring. Copia jolts when he feels a slick finger rub over his entrance.

“It's okay. I got you.”

Copia whimpers and withers as Aether sinks a finger into him, working him open. Then adding a second and doing the same. When the ghoul pulls out, Copia scrambles to grab for him.

“Hey, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere.”

It's accentuated as Copia feels the ghoul's cock head slip inside him. Fuck they've barely even started and he's already on the verge of blowing his load.

“Such a good boy.” Aether sinks himself deeper until he's finally bottomed out. “Taking me so well. Like you were handcrafted for me.”

He wants it to be rough and demanding, but Aether throws him for a loop when he keeps it soft and comfortable. It has his thighs shaking as he wraps his legs around Aether's waist. He makes the half-hearted attempt to match the thrusts, but he's gone already.

With a cry, Copia's back arches, sending the ghoul's cock further inside himself. He paints his own stomach with white as he cums so forcefully that he sees stars. He only barely registers when Aether cums inside him, fucking it back into him as it drips free. When he's satisfied, Aether pulls out, eliciting a pathetic whine from Copia.

Copia is still staring at the ceiling dazed when a strong hand grabs him and manhandles him over. Oh. This is new. He lets Aether position him until his head is rested comfortably on a large bicep.

The quiet is comfortable at first but quickly sours as his thoughts spin once more. He thinks he does a better job of masking his emotions than he does, but Copia knows Aether can feel the tears against his skin.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Aether tips Copia's head to look up at him. “Did I hurt you?” There's panic in his voice and Copia hates himself even more for being the cause of it.

He laughs tiredly, wiping his eyes. “No, it's not that. It's just – no one has ever stayed the night before.” He tries to laugh again but it turns into a sob.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” He answers far too quickly. But he doesn't care. “It – it's just nice to feel – it's just nice to have someone stay.”

Aether shushes him and eventually their breathing evens out. Copia's eyes flutter as he tries to stay awake. Ultimately sleep wins over. It's here when he's wrapped in Aether's strong arms that for once in his life Copia feels safe.

He feels loved.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Miscellaneous Monster Tales 2

This felt a bit more comically purposed than the last one.

Golems

I complained about how golems were only used for combat purposes and this ended up giving a justification for why they aren't used for general purposes. And it's an explanation I felt in my soul.

It was because of programming errors.

This is like the equivalent of writing "if (x = 0)" when you were supposed to write "if (x == 0)". The first will set variable x to the value 0 and then return true because the operation succeeded. The second will check the value currently stored in variable x and return true if the value is 0 and false otherwise.

This also reminds me of a personal story trying to debug an issue I had with a spreadsheet I needed to analyze. I wanted the program to run a certain task for every line in the file but it kept having some odd error where the first line worked correctly, but every other line would act as if there was an extra field at the beginning and shift over by one.

Eventually I found that the issue was certain versions of Windows defined a new line differently from the linux OS I was using. The end of every line in the spreadsheet had a "\r\n" that I could only find by converting the spreadsheet into ASCII and then I had to remove every "\r" in the file to get it working.

Orcs

Kinda strange how orcs have upward facing teeth in their upper jaws. That seems impractical. Also, the teeth sticking out of the chief's mouth when it's closed are the upper teeth.

I wouldn't be surprised if those upper canines were rootless similar to a boar's tusks. In a hand-to-hand fight, orcs probably prefer grappling and then slashing their opponents with those teeth. It would keep them safe from getting something in their mouth they don't want.

I've seen posts of people commenting on Ryoko Kui's artbooks and I have to strongly agree that she knows how to draw women of all sorts of body types. And this section is just her indulging in the beauty of large women.

And Laios being Laios, he didn't realize where the line talking about physical attraction becomes uncomfortable and ended up angering the chief because the chief thinks Laios is leering at his wives. He also made Marcille uncomfortable because he had to bring up people's attraction to ears.

Mimics

All the info we get here is stuff from chapter 0. These things are just hermit crabs that grow to cocnut crab size and will use anything they can find. The one using a bottle cap is adorable.

They probably ambush small bugs and lizards when they're that tiny.

Treasure Insects

Nothing much to say here. Turns out the party ended up not only throwing away super valuable jewels, but they also ate super valuable specimens. Maybe the value of a treasure insect is related to how similar to an actual jewel they are.

Just as a reminder, I offered a hypothetical exchange rate of 1G = $0.05 USD when talking about the price of a book in the last Miscellaneous Monster Tales. Even at that rate, those bugs would go for fairly high prices. The diamond one would end up at $2,500, which is what an actual diamond like that could cost.

Ghosts

I'd heard of the thing Marcille mentioned about the weight of the soul and did some digging into it.

The whole thing comes from a 1907 study by physician Duncan MacDougall who wanted to see if souls have weight. He measured the weight of six patients at the moment of their deaths and found that one of them lost 21 grams when they died. The study is considered utterly bogus since he had such a small sample size and only reported on the single sample that fit his hypothesis. MacDougall himself even said that the results he got shouldn't be taken as conclusive of anything, but the newspaper that released the story did a horrible job actually reporting it as they usually do.

Calling brewing a type of necromancy is definitely a fascinating way to think about it.

Living Pictures

If Living Pictures are just illusion spells, then Laios's attempts to get food from them were doomed from the start no matter what. Even though he got to eat in that third painting, the food wasn't real which explains why he still felt hungry after and why he couldn't pull food from the second painting.

This is supposed to be silly but this one is just an existential nightmare. Laios's self-doodle seems to have all the memories of the real Laios and is just trapped in that painting forever.

Love how bad Laios's artwork is.

Kelpies

This is more informative than anything. I'd heard of kelpies before this chapter and decided to do a quick look into them because I was curious about the liver bit.

Kelpies originate in Scotland and they can shapeshift, though they usually can't transform their hooves.

It's probably just one of those things parents told children to keep them from playing in the deep rivers. "Don't play there. You'll drown" implies that the child's incompetence will kill them. But children are the most overconfident, egoists you'll ever meet. So you instead have to tell them there's a monster that will lure you in and drown you.

Now I'm curious if there were native horses or horse-like animals in Scotland that inspired Kelpies. Maybe the general origin is horse-riders would try to wade through rivers on their horses only to drown when the horse panicked and it spun into the kelpie myths.

I never found anything about them not eating livers.

back

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: Sam forcing you to go to bed

Okay. So you'd gotten a little obsessive. And, sure, that tunnel vision drive had robbed you of a real night sleep for three days straight, resulting in unplanned naps at an hour intervals at most, adding up to two whole hours. But was it really fair that your body demanded sleep when Sam and Dean habitually did the same thing? And that's how you got to day four, hallucinating every time you looked at something too bright or too dark. 

"Y/n…?" Sam called out softly after coming into the room to see you staring blankly at your hand. "You alright?"

"Huh?" You could barely pay attention to him, much less summon the mental stamina to craft a proper response.

Sam hesitated. "I asked if you were alright…"

"Uh huh."

Sam glanced back, wondering if he should call for Dean, then decided to approach you first instead. "What's going on?"

"This spot on my wrist."

"Spot?" Sam blinked in surprise when you clumsily shoved your hand in his face. He gently took it wrist. "I see it. What about it?"

"It's a spider."

Sam's brows knitted. "What?"

"All spots are spiders."

"Uh…"

"Spider. Spider. Spider." You repeated, poking the visible moles on his skin. "It goes away when you touch it. Then reappears!"

"Are you high or something?"

"Let me take off your shirt." You didn't wait for permission, sliding your hands up his hard abs. You would have enjoyed it more if your brain didn't feel encased in cotton, but as a solid to your future self, you made sure to indulge in the experience.

"Why the hell are you taking off my shirt?" Sam's voice cracked as he startled back, hands wavering in the air, unsure of what to do.

"You have the cutest mole right… here." You caressed the curve of his neck.

Sam's breath hitched and his throat worked as he struggled to reply. "You didn't need to take my shirt off to see it- Y/n!"

You opportunistically slipped under his shirt, kissing the spot. "God, I've always wanted to do that."

"Have you been drinking?" Sam jumped back when your hand dipped under his jeans. "Jesus, Y/n! What the hell?"

You blinked at him, mind blanking. 

"Y/n?" Sam stepped forward cautiously when you didn't respond. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Yesterday maybe?" You felt yourself swaying, but it didn't feel dangerous even when Sam jerked forward to keep you upright.

"For how long?"

"I don't know math." You scowled indignantly. "How dare you, Winchester? -Like twenty minutes or something."

Sam sighed. "How long has it been since the last time you really slept?"

"Um…" You closed your eyes to think and the swaying got worse. "Anyways. Take off your pants."

"What? No." Sam frowned. "Try to concentrate for a second."

"How can I supposed to do that?" You whined shamelessly. "Real Y/n wants to see the goods!"

Sam flushed and it took clearing his throat twice to find his voice. "Real Y/n?"

You nodded. "Awake Y/n. Not sleepy Y/n." You grabbed his waistband. "There's a pot going on amongst hunters about how hung you are. I'll keep it a secret if you do, but shouldn't I know since we're friends? You can't keep secrets from your friends."

"Okay. Bedtime for you." Sam threw you over his shoulder when your fingers started to graze downward.

"I'm not sleepy." You pouted. "My brain is too awake."

"I'll give you warm milk or something. Just get into the bed and stop touching me." Sam's voice was hard. 

You stopped sliding your hands over the lines of his back muscles sulkily. "You're so bossy. Isn't it your fault that you're so damn fine? Take some responsibility! Coming out of the shower with nothing, but a towel on…"

"I didn't know you were there!"

"That doesn't make me not want to lick every damn drop of water off of you." You suddenly became cheerful. "Stay hydrated everyone."

"Please stop talking." Sam swallowed hard.

"I'll show you yours, if you show me mine." You offered.

"That's not-" Sam broke off with a sigh, then pushed open your bedroom door and set you down. "Get some sleep." He sighed again when you stared at him in blank confusion. "Sleep, Y/n. Please?"

"I forgot how the bed works." 

"You forgot…" Sam covered his eyes with his hands, scrubbing his face hard. "Go lay down."

You walked backwards until your legs hit the bed, then toppled inelegantly on the mattress. Sam's face fell. Begrudgingly, he scooped you up and laid you further back on the blankets. He rolled you up tightly in an impromptu swaddle before you could do anything else.

"I'm a burrito. Eat me."

"Go to sleep, Y/n."

"But you and Dean stay up all the time." Your face crumpled with a wave of sorrow.

Sam softened. "You aren't us." 

"But you won't want me anymore."

Sam's lips thinned with an empathetic smile. "We can talk about this later."

"You've got a cute mole by your nose too."

Sam turned off the light, but didn't leave. A moment later, you felt him sit next to you. "I never had anyone try to help me fall asleep, so I'm not really sure how to help you, but… I saw this in a movie once. A mom putting down her kid…"

You relaxed instantly as his fingers brushed back your hair in long, gentle strokes. Sam smiled at your satisfied hums.

"Good night, Y/n." Sam said softly when your breathing slowed.

[donnerpartyofone]

Halp I'm having social anxiety about something I'm probably not even gonna do. Recently my former boss from the lecture series thing said she'd be passing through town and wanted to meet up. I was a little surprised by this because I didn't think she actually liked me, or at least she might have been totally neutral on me. She was impossible to get to know, which is a funny thing for me to say since I'm not the greatest at connecting. She always seemed really sad and anxious about our little company, so I'd try to engage with her about our successes, and that wouldn't work; then I'd try to commiserate with her about the hard parts, and that wouldn't work either. Allegedly we were both doing this labor of love because of our personal enthusiasms, but somehow I never once had a conversation with her about film or horror or anything. The few times that something controversial happened she was really cold and sort of deceptive about it; I felt like I was back in my dark corporate job instead of in a small group of volunteers who are basically hobbyists and just trying to create something cool together. (That wasn't totally her fault I think, there were some Personalities involved, but it still shouldn't have resulted in this clandestine atmosphere) When she left I wrote her a really personal, appreciative email (this is all remote work), and her entire response was basically "Yeah, it was just too hard to make money," there was nothing about the parts she was proud of or that were just fun, and actually that was the only thing I could ever really get her to say. This makes her sound like some sort of evil accountant, but that's the confusing part, because she's actually a borderline hippie whose other main interest is poetry, and she says things like "thank the gods" in earnest, and her apartment looks like it's all full of earthy folk objects. I always thought the sad hippie poet lady could use a little connection but all my efforts to make her feel comfortable and appreciated never worked out and I just never got a handle on her. I thought we were probably both relieved to not have to deal with each other again...

But lo and behold she asked if I wanted to hang out while she's in my neighborhood, which I thought was really nice...and now I'm like Jesus do I really want to do this? Smartly she only invited me to some group activities so she's not dependent on me for anything, although that's a bit of a double-edged sword because I think they're wandering around a museum and then going to what looks like a loud, tacky pub. Which sounds like a lot of work to me, socially, in order to not just be a straggler/creeper/fifth wheel. On the other hand I've been trying to make myself say yes to more activities because I'm desperately unemployed and lacking purpose/direction/etc at the moment, and I think it would behoove me to practice being brave and also to take every opportunity to meet new and potentially relevant-to-me people because you never know what might come up. But also the activities in question are a pain to get to. But also but also but also. Ugh.

I'm already cycling through my catalog of near-truths to get out of it, and it's not going to hurt anyone if I do. A funny manifestation of my executive dysfunction is that consciously I will be fretting over something while physically I am already preparing to do or not do the thing, sometimes it just starts happening with or without me even as I'm still arguing with myself all the way to the door. My dad is a philosophy wonk and he once told me that thought and emotion follow action and not the other way around. This outraged me, like what so we just get random electrical impulses that make us dance around for no fucking reason? This is like something you hear from narcissists all the time when they do something terrible, that everything is somehow out of their hands and they're a victim of circumstance or only guilty of being human, but it made even less sense. And I think he refused to explain himself just because he was enjoying how much it bothered me, but years later on my own I read the William James bit about this, which was like: If you encounter a bear in the woods, you don't have feelings about it, evaluate those feelings, and subsequently develop the motivation to run. Your brain automatically goes into emergency mode, and all the chemicals involved in the self-preservation impulse create the feeling of fear. (More or less, forgive me, it's early) In such a case you're not running away "for no reason", you're having a legitimate reaction to something, it's just that the feeling of fear and your thoughts on bears are symptomatic of the situation and not the beginning of a decision-making process per se. Dear old dad just likes it when I get upset and confused so he didn't tell me himself that he did NOT mean that we're all just flailing around randomly for absolutely no psychological reason, performing unmotivated actions and coming up with ideas about them later...but anyway I'm entering that type of process now, where I seem to be gearing up to take a certain course that my subconscious believes is best while emotionally I'm still arguing with myself about it. TGIF I guess.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2024: #35

35. ALBANIA Besa - "Titan" 34th place

Decade ranking: 138/153 [Above Vasil, below Mia & Dion]

Besa, darling, this is some GARBAGE.

There you go. My instinctive pavlovian response every time I think about "TiTAN" (*sigh*) since its revamp. End of write-up, the rest is just filling in the dead space. Each time Albania announces a revamp that goes English, the NQ energy comes out.

Sometimes, it's a bit unfair to immediately dismiss a English FiK revamp. Not all of them were without merit, and most still offerend something of value because they were based off good songs.

"Zemrën n'dorë" for ex; was perfectly fine even if the fandom held it in contempt for being "generically Albanian". It was still fun? Besides, "generically Albanian" is like what - Karma or Duje? There are worse places to be, surely. Both still made the final, and were enjoyable in their own right.

If anything, I got a small chuckle out of both of Besa's FiK performances because they underlined Besa's penchant for extra outfits - In the first performance Besa strutted around in badly designed fantasy armour <3

"Every tear's gonna ricochet indeed."

which she then followed up with this Statue of Liberty waifu cosplay

Working her two best assets <3

Sadly, I don't think "Titan" can be ranked amongst the okay revamps of 2011, 2014, 2017 and 2022. It was a fall from the shajte. She took an average song with interesting elements and got rid of the interesting elements, which she then replaced with one of the WORST drop breaks I've ever heard in any song, ESC or not.

The second any of us heard "Titan" in full we knew it was dedge with near certainty, and that was precisely what happened. There were no miraculous turnarounds as with Bambie or surprise outsells as with Aiko and Megara. "Titan" remained uninspired and dull. Even when she was performing it in the semi all I could think about was how hopeless it was. None of the outfits Besa wore in Malmö were particularly inspired and the act was hopelessly stuck in 2017. It's been seven years since Artsvik. Time to move on from the "Hand Choreo into Wideshots" acts, mayhaps.

So, Besa was unremarkable fodder, what's the worry? Why this low a placement? Shouldn't she be ranked amongst the Vladanas and the Ukus?

Well, semi 2 happened to be quite good and even though "Titan" was without question the biggest dud within its line-up, but thanks to its drop and awful act it still managed to stand out as SHIT to me. Which might be worse than not standing out at all. It's one of the two for each one of us, so decide for yourself which one is worse. The fact that "Titan" can easily be forgotten about is its only saving grace, which is the true halllmark of its badness. Once you do pay it even a smidge of scrutiny (which requires considerably more concentration than I'm willing to throw at it), out come the exclamations of "THIS IS NOT IT, BESA."

So in the end, the results spoke for themselves. Besa should have been last place in Semi 2 and that would have been the verdict if she hadn't been the biggest name Albania had sent in years. Even with HER RECOGNITION AMONGST ALBANIANS, she still came second last, with 14 points, the same amount as Victor Vernikos last year, with only a smatting of points from the expat countries, a single point ahead of last place. it was as close a result to nilpoints that Albania could have realistically mustered under the current system, and I can't say it wasn't deserved.

BESA KOKËDHIMA, IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO RETIRE!!!

CAN YOU IMAGINE IF THE OLD FiK SYSTEM HAD STILL BEEN IN PLACE AND THE FIK WINNER HAD GONE INSTEAD?!

This Donkey Kong/Gaston hybrid <3 All he had was arms, a song and a dream. 😭 and I do mean that literally because the one thing Mal didn't have was performance talent. Throwing partitures around ♥ flexing ALL the time ♥ the adlibs, the shrieking, the "fucking hell" ♥ All while sounding like someone throttling a turkey ♥ How did this win a JURY VOTE ♥ Mal would have NQ'd too but it would have been FUNNY and ICONIQUE and MEMORABLE, all traits "Titan" did not have. 😭

HOORAY, we've already made it out of the ~Dislikes~. Yep, only *three* reds/oranges this year. Told you this year's entries were good. Time to rank some bores, mediocrities and mixed bags for the next few days, I guess.

THE RANKING

[phantomss-pain]

New fic out now https://archiveofourown.org/works/56404393

Read it there or down below.

Cassandra "Cassie" Ramirez wasn’t exactly the type of person to be hateful or angry that often. It was just in her DNA to be as polite as possible to everyone around her. So naturally whenever something would come up that made her angry she would try her best to ignore the bubbling rage inside of her and carry on with her day.

But of course there were times when that rage would come out and today was one of those days. Today Cassie's mother Marla had invited some people over for a party and due to Cassie being what would call a social butterfly she was eager to talk to everyone that Marla had invited. That was until the night before when Cassie heard her mother having sex with her (what Cassie would consider to be) new boyfriend Lamar. Normally this shouldn't be a big deal but for Cassie it was.

Just over a year ago Cassie's Father was killed in a car accident. This had crushed the fifteen year old as she thought the world of her father. He meant everything to her. She had thought the same was true for her mother but to her surprise Marla had move on quickly. Before Cassie knew it Marla had Lamar over constantly. Every day when Cassie got home from school she would see Lamar hanging around her mother. It made her sick to her stomach knowing that her mother had moved on from the man she said she loved for over twenty years so quickly for this new guy.

So hearing them just having sex made her angry. So before the guests had arrived Cassie and her mother got into a heated shouting match which resulted in Cassie going to her room while the party happened down below. Cassie didn't blame Marla for sending her up to her room but it didn't mean she liked it.

As she heard the hustle downstairs Cassie couldn't help but feel even more angry at her mother. All of her resentment towards Lamar was the only thing she could think about. She hated everything about Lamar. He wasn’t like her father at all. He wasn’t funny or as kind hearted as him. Lamar was just...everything that her father wasn't.

Maybe it wasn't fair for her to compare Lamar to her father but Cassie didn't care. If he was to be her step father with the way he and Marla were going then she had a right to criticise him. Even then she held resentment to Marla for falling in love with him. Sure Cassie knew that Lamar and Marla had known each other since they were kids which was longer than Marla and her father but still. What her mother saw in Lamar was a mystery to the teenage girl.

As Cassie sulked in her room she was unaware of the footsteps that were getting increasingly louder until there was a knock on her bedroom door.

"Who is it?" Cassie asked, sounding way more agressive than normal.

"Uh hey Cass it's me Gregory." The voice replied sheepishly.

Realising who it was Cassie leaped from her bed and opened up her door to see her best friend standing in the doorway twiddling his thumbs. Gregory had been her best friend from birth with the two of them being inseparable which was to be expected seeing how tight of a friendship their mothers had. Yet despite knowing Gregory for all her life she had never seen him nervous about anything.

Gregory was normally a very confident kid. He was always on top of everything, quips, timing, you name it he was always on top of it. Though he was never nervous. Well that's a lie he would be nervous but only if he caused big enough trouble for his parents to tell him off and punish him. So seeing him standing in the hallway looking as though he had done something wrong was strange.

"Hi there Gregory." Cassie replied. "What are you doing up here?"

"I wanted to see you." Gregory answered quickly. "The party isn't that fun if you aren't down there."

Cassie snorted. "Isn't your cousin and sister down there? Surely you can bother them?"

With that cold reply Gregory's nervous look vaporised in an instant instead turning into the normal scowling face he had.

"Well Vanessa brought her boyfriend and Millie did the same bringing her girlfriend here and I don't exactly want to see them snogging do I?"

Cassie opened her mouth to make fun of her friend for being so against seeing his family making out with someone they loved but she held her tounge realising how hypocritical it would be. Instead she chose a different angle.

"Snogging?" She teased. "Did your Dad teach you that one?"

She giggled to herself slightly while Gregory rolled his eyes. There was one thing that Cassie could tease Gregory over and that was his usage of British terms that he got from his father. It was funny to hear Gregory use these foreign terms that no one else used. It was even funnier when they were kids and Gregory would misspell certain words for their British spellings.

"Yeah yeah yeah." Gregory huffed. "I know it's a funny British term doesn't matter, why are you in your room and not downstairs?"

With that Cassie's brief bit of happiness came to end and returned to her reality.

"I got...into an argument with Mom." She explained coldy. "And she sent me up here for the things I said."

"You got into an argument with your Mum?" Gregory asked, a small smirk forming on his face. "Since when did you get into arguments with your Mum?"

"It was about him." Cassie replied, venom dripping from her words especially when refering to Lamar.

"Him?"

"The asshole who I live with Gregory." Cassie angrily answered. "Lamar."

Gregory's smirk disappeared after the name being dropped. "Oh I see."

"Come on in and I'll tell you about it."

The two friends went into Cassie's room with Cassie shutting her door to make sure no one would over hear them. Sitting on the bed Cassie let out a long sigh before explaining what happened.

"So last night I got up to get a drink because I couldn't sleep and I uh... heard Mom and Lamar doing it?" Cassie started.

"Doing it?" Gregory asked. "As in sex?"

Cassie nodded. "I got into an argument with Mom about it an hour an a half ago now."

"Is that it seriously?" Gregory chuckled. "You got upset at your Mom having sex?"

"Not just that idiot." Cassie snapped. "It was the fact she did it with Lamar. She's like full on in love with him now and I hate it. With the way things are going he's going to be my step father by October."

"That's like three months away Cass."

"Exactly my point."

Gregory paused to think about what his friend was talking about. "Is it bad I don’t see an issue with that?"

"Yes." Cassie exclaimed. "I don’t want my step dad to be Lamar."

"Why not?" Gregory asked. "I don’t see an issue with him."

Cassie felt herself getting more and more heated at Gregory's ignorance. "He's not my Dad, Greg!" She shouted. "Mom's trying to replace him for this stupid guy who's nothing like him. How would you like it if Charlie married a new guy after Michael died and replaced him? Would that be fun for you?!"

Gregory flinched at Cassie's out burst before trying to compose himself.

"Cass I-"

"It doesn’t matter." Cassie interrupted, turning her back towards her friend. "Just go downstairs and leave me be since you like him."

There was a moment of silence until Cassie heard Gregory finally begin moving. It wasn’t until he got to the door did he reply.

"You know my Dad isn't actually my Dad right?" He croaked out.

It took a moment for Cassie to process what he had said but once she did she turned around to look at him.

"What?"

"Dad isn't my biological father." Gregory explained. "He's...actually my step father so I know how you feel... kinda."

Cassie felt her jaw drop. "What? But he's been with you since you were born... how-"

"Mum remarried." Gregory continued. "She had a previous marriage with a man that didn’t go great."

He paused before snorting at his explanation. "That's an understatement." He said to himself but Cassie heard it.

"She had a marriage before Uncle Michael?"

Gregory nodded. "Dad told me recently about it. The marriage wasn’t good. My father...the man she married was nasty and really abusive to her. Shortly after I was born, Mum ran away from him bringing me and Mill with her and well, Dad was there for her and one thing led to another.

Cassie just sat in silence. "You aren't lying are you?"

"I'm not." He answered. "Dad and Mill would back me up. Mum wouldn't as she doesn't want to talk about him ever. Can't say I blame her."

"So you don't know your actual Dad then?"

Gregory shook his head. "No and honestly I don’t want to. My step Dad is the only Dad I need in my life."

"But they lied to you!" Cassie exclaimed. "Aren't you angry that you've lived a lie. You've thought that Uncle Michael was your father but he wasn't. They took your dad away from you-"

"Didn't you hear me." Gregory snapped back. "I don’t need my biological Dad."

"But surely you're mad at them right?"

"No." Gregory replied. "Mum's happier with Dad than she would be with that prick. I would much rather have Mum be happy than know my biological father."

Cassie fidgeted in her bed. She understood Gregory's point and she knew what he was trying to do. He could read her friend like a open book and she didn’t like what he was trying to do. "So how does this relate to me and my Mom?"

"I'm just saying that if Lamar makes Aunt Marla happy then you shouldn't be mad at her for it." He explained. "He's not a bad guy. You just don't like him for not being your Dad."

"She's trying to replace him of course I'm not happy." Cassie huffed.

"I don’t think so." Gregory replied. "If anything she feels guilty."

"Guilty?"

Gregory looked around the hallway checking he wasn't being listened to before closing the door.

"So your Mum has come over to mine a few times when you're out doing stuff and I've heard her talk to my Mum about this." Gregory said. "She's been guilty about this and how she hates herself for it."

"As she should." Cassie replied.

"No she shouldn't Cass." Gregory quickly said back. "Aunt Marla doesn't want to replace your Dad but Lamar makes her feel happy and she wants to feel happy. She wants to move on but it doesn't mean she didn't love your Dad, she did and still does but he's gone and she just... needs someone else to fill that hole."

Cassie paused as she thought long and hard about Gregory's words. If that was really the case then why hadn't her mom talk to her about it? Unless if she was still thinking about how to talk to her about it. The more Cassie thought about it the more she began to feel guilty about her argument towards her mother.

"Crap..." Cassie blurted out when the realisation hit her. "I've been a bitch."

"I wouldn't say that." Gregory replied. "I would say you've been a dickhead."

"Oh aren't you funny." Cassie grumbled before smiling at Gregory's tease. "Though I've got to go talk to Mom about this now."

Jumping out off her bed Cassie sprinted towards the doorway and zoomed past Gregory reaching the stairs in an instant. However she paused before rushing back to Gregory and grabbed his face and gave her friend a quick peak on the lips leaving him stunned.

"Thanks for this Gregory." She smiled before rushing back to the stairs and running down them at a tremendous pace.

While Cassie did that Gregory remained in the same spot. His cheeks blushing like mad as he tried procesing what just happened. Before he could successfully do that his older sister Millie walked up the stairs and saw her little brother standing completely still flushed beyond belief.

"So what happened here?" Millie asked, smirking.

"No-nothing Mill." Gregory spluttered before rushing past her down the stairs. "Nothing at all."

Gregory rushed down the stairs leaving his sister to just smirk to herself.