#So I took a (lot) of liberties with it but I did reference it against the M face Ishi originally had. To make sure it wasn't like. Too off

[astracora]

The Cat Curse - MC Edition - Chapter 2

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: Some hurt/lots of comfort, semi-canon compliant heart condition, spoilers for current story release (Small mentions of Sylus bond up to 102 and all of Sylus' currently released content), small references to the other boys stories.

Word Count: 4391

Written: 24th December 2024

Notes: New relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs (this time with group chat), with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me.

Now Playing: Freaking Me Out, By Ava Max

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Sylus is nothing if not driven. Once he has a task, he will carry it out, and finish it. Sometimes his drive scares you, because he seems to be unperturbed by everything, no fear and no hesitation. 

So after you've eaten and slept, curled up in the safe cage of his arms, and feel less like the outside world wants to sink its blooded fangs into you... he drags the both of you back to the cafe. 

It's late at night and it shouldn't be open, but rules have never been set with Sylus, and he ignores them at will. Especially, you're learning, when it comes to you. Thankfully an OTTO is still floating about the place, and answers your questions... 

Kind of. 

"I stress THEM out? They cursed ME!" You grind your teeth as the two of you leave the cafe. When the boys had been cursed, they'd had to work their sentence... you had been told, none too kindly, that the cats would be more stressed by your presence. 

More stressed by you. Than Sylus. A man who used to pick them up with his mist and hiss back at them if they annoyed him. 

All you'd done was pet them, maybe... hold on for too long to your chest. For two straight hours... even when it began to wriggle. You glare at the man beside you who is chuckling to himself at your hissing, "All I did was cuddle them!" 

"They're overworked and underpaid, kitten, what do you expect?" 

You hiss again, low at the back of your throat and sniff, turning your head away and walking steps ahead of him. "You're enjoying this." It comes out with more venom than you mean it to, and you halt as he takes your hand, quickly to pull you back, easing the tension out of your spine with a large warm hand. 

"Not when you're in pain, kitten." Your tail droops and you sniff him, slumping against him, "You just have to hold out, you're not going to do it alone." 

You're not one for being affectionate in public, you'll hold hands, but that took a while to get you there, and you'll sometimes lean and cling to arms when you've had a little to drink, but anything more was new... and you were private. Worn out, though, you find comfort from Sylus' presence and fall into his arms easily now. A little safer, a little less on edge, knowing he will not let anything hurt you. 

"Plus," his uneven heart beats against your ear, "I quite like your new attachments. They're honest." 

You blink up at him, just as you feel his fingers rub at the base of your tail. 

It's a jolt of pure hot lightning right up your spine, arching up, butt pushed into his hand chasing it, hand tightening in his shirt, and a moan, more like a purr, escapes you. Embarrassment hits then, and you cover your mouth quickly, fleeing his hands. 

Sylus' eyes are wide as they stare at you. Molten and captivated, and his cheeks have a small tinge of pink. He looks down at his hand for a moment, then back at you, "Like that." He says on an exhale, but his voice is a little shakier than you're used to, and you aren't sure how to respond. 

He takes your hand from your mouth, and entwines your fingers, leading the two of you back to your apartment, but he looks at you with a canine peaking out of his lips and leans in to husk in your head, "Information to be filed away for later." 

---------- 

You're sulking, well. Almost. He was cooking, trying to make something more substantial for you to eat. If you were fed, rested and watered, he knew the overstimulation would be easier to manage. You had asked him if you could help... 

"Are you going to get fur in the food?" 

You'd blinked, looking down at the tail swishing behind you, kicking up long fur wherever it went, and ducked your head, "I... can't promise I won't." 

He'd kissed the top of your head, and sat you down at the counter, away from his food prep, and with your music quietly playing in the background. He's used to you chafing if you can't be useful, worrying at the edges of your heart to earn something. He's tried many things in the past, offering deals in return for things he wishes to give you, bribing you for time spent, trying to make it a transaction you can calculate evenly. 

At the end of the day, he was just putting a plaster on the issue. You just had to accept he loved you, and wanted to do things for you. 

"Just keep me company." 

You'd nervously nodded, and sat watching him for a while, before speaking, "What was having a tail like for you?" 

The knife almost clatters out of his hands, he catches it in mist before it truly leaves it, and rights himself as quickly as he can. A second, but a second too long. He looks over at you, your head titled, ears pointed straight up, flicking towards him to catch anything he might say. 

"My tail?" He clarifies, because he knows memories aren't easily gained back... and truthfully part of him doesn't actually want you to gain them back. He worries about who you are now, and how you'd handle the influx. Betrayal and hurt. Revenge that drove you into the arms of a fiend. There was good in your heart then, but it had been crushed out quickly in favour of a weapon for corrupt zealots. He doesn't want to see the you, while flawed and still hurting, crushed of the good in you now. Yet another little treacherous part of him... it wants you to remember every moment that you spent teaching him love. He wants you to remember the name you gave him. 

It's a small part though, because you're here, now, and you love him still. 

"Yeah, when they cursed you. You seemed to-" you grab your tail and try to shove it under your leg to stop its movement, "control yours better than Raffy or me." 

He relaxes, nods a little to himself and resumes his work, "You and the fish aren't honest enough, the tail's working overtime." He catches you blink, look down at yourself and then frown, before adding, "I just got used to mine because I had to, I suppose." It's not a lie. He had to learn quickly... and alone, and even then it wasn't quick enough. 

He just can't tell you that it was the scaled tail that taught him. You have to get there on your own, if you ever do. 

"So if I'm more honest, it will calm down?" 

He chuckles, "Heart and soul, Kitten." 

You run your fingers through the end of your tail and sink into silence, so he leaves you be. Your mind is a place he wishes he could explore without hurting, he's used his evol on you once, at the very start... he has no intentions of digging anymore. Pain is not something he wants to inflict on you, he wants to offer you every desire and all the world's pleasure. So he waits for you to share insights into the workings of your mind, even if those insights baffle and confuse him... more than they help build the puzzle of you that he keeps in his chest. 

He flicks through the recipe he’s following, to make stew, and sees the notifications on the group chat popup. Then hears soft laughter from you, when he reaches a point where he just has to watch the pot, he opens his phone.

He catches the apple you throw at him with ease, chuckling to himself as he puts his phone back down, stirring the pot. “See, kitten?”

You fidget in your seat, looking up at him with wavering eyes, guilty but there’s a glimmer there. “Yeah. I do.” He watches you, as you stroke your tail with your hand, head tilting, “I hope this doesn’t happen again, but if it does, I’ll tell you.”

Sylus doesn’t respond, he simply nods, and gets back to helping feed your hunger, as well as your heart.

—————

Sylus knows the nature of a tail fairly well, his own before was a great tool and a weapon. In it’s, and his, kinder moments, it was a good way to hold you close to him. Feel your heart beating under scales. An action that seemed possessive by nature, rather than soft, as using his hand might have been. Even with his claws. His rarely betrayed him, except for when it curled around you when he was tired and sought your greedy soul pressed to his, but yours… it betrays your emotions constantly.

It is a constant warmth around his wrist, or his ankle, or his waist. Whichever is closest or easiest to reach. He’s not used to you being so honest with your body, it is your words, forced through a tight throat, that explain your feelings mostly. This is a change. It’s not unwelcome, though you frown everytime you realise what is happening. Grabbing at the betraying limb, and trying to keep it contained.

He’d eased your hand away, rubbed at your knuckles with his thumb, and shook his head. Allowing you to seek out the comfort you needed, though your hand had still twitched to pull it back, eventually you had stopped trying to fight it. Relieved everytime your tail touched his skin and grounded you.

Sylus wants to touch your ears. It seems only fair, after you pet his. Disgruntled and pleased as he was for you to send jolts of lightning down his spine and through his skin. Sylus believes, you owe him one. Just this once. He’s been avoiding them for a while, whenever he touches you, as he soothes your skin with his touch. If he brushes your tail it is light, pressing too heavy results in your back arching and moans out of your mouth that make him feel dry mouthed and starving.

He’s seen many cats, he has lovingly called you kitten for a long time. Curious and chaotic, though prone to scratching and hissing to protect yourself. He’s pet cats in the street, seen them pleased and rubbing themselves against him at the right pressure between the ears.

He wants to see you like that.

You relax, tail flicking, curling and twitching. He lies with you, watching a movie on the too small television in your apartment. The volume is low enough your ears don’t constantly swivel, and he has better hearing than most anyway. You lay on him, as you watch, head pillowed against his chest, and irregular heartbeat under your ear.

As you focus, humming along to one of the songs, he reaches gentle hands to your hair. First soothing strands, and then rubbing at the base of your ears. The keen he gets in response, and the way you bite down on the fabric of his shirt, makes him twitch. Overheated even for him. For a moment, you look like you’re debating running away. Tail upright, ears pinned, eyes spearing him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He promises into the side of your head, and it’s one of the truest things he’s ever said. Cherish you, and devour you, but he won’t hurt you. You are the one who can hurt him, after all, and how glad he is for that certainty.

Your tail lays back down, and this time you nuzzle into his hand, “I trust you.” A song he never thought he’d hear from your lips when you were reacquainted. It sings into his soul, and he takes his pleasure from yours. Petting his kitten, soothing your ears, scratching along your back and base of your tail. You wriggle atop him, unable to hold yourself back. Purring a storm against his chest, hand clawing at him like you’re trying to knead.

There is also the manner of your fangs. One hand traces the line of your cheek, brushing over your lips, and you bite at his fingers. Chasing them in your bliss. None too gently, but not enough to draw blood.

The shock snaps you back, and you apologise, but he’s staring at the marks on his finger with a thrum in his veins. Sparking in hunger. He tilts your head to look at him, and presses his fingers against your closed lips. “If you want the mark to stay, you have to bite harder.” Your eyes widen, blinking at him, but instead you open your mouth to lick his fingers. Moving to where you bit, and laving over it.

His skin prickles, itches, burns, aches. Pain is familiar, whatever you offer is always new. The movie is truly forgotten, as he returns the favour. His marks, however, will stick around for a few days at least. He notices, later, in his pleased haze… that there are some from you, right over his heart.

—————

You understand now why Sylus was grabbing at seagulls, something in your brain, an instinct you didn’t want, is urging you to watch birds. You want to swat and grab, and barely hold yourself back. The faster they move, the more they flap, the harder it gets to hold yourself back. Your balcony is the perfect place to watch them, warm under the sun, as your traitorous body clicks and hisses when they get too close. Alone in the apartment, while Sylus goes shopping for supplies, you have Mephie for company.

Who frankly… seems wary at best. He has offered you a feather to play with, as though that will appease you and keep you from trying to eat him. “I’m not going to bite you Mephie, I promise…” You can’t promise you wont swat at him though. It’s unnerving, having such little control over your impulses. You are relieved when he finally settles, and even more so when he joins you in your game. Moving your discomfort, and embarrassment into playful glee, as you both click and clack at visiting birds.

Eventually the game grows boring, fickle and done until you find something new to do. Mephie rests on your shoulder, and has taken to helping you groom the fur around your ears that blends into your hair. Soothing the mess and in return, you fuss beneath his wing. It’s hard to imagine the time you had met Mephie, and Sylus by extension, wary and full of hatred. Righteous anger snarling through your chest. Now they bring safety and comfort, and a feeling of coming home to roost. 

Eventually the sun eases the both of you into sleep. You lay down with Mephie resting in the curl of your tail, and are nudged awake very gently. A hand holding your cheek and lips at your forehead. “Sy-” You purr, waking slowly and pleasantly into his arms, “Hey.” Tired, you are always softer, not as aware of the world. Edges rounded. You nuzzle into his warmth, “Missed you.”

“Me too kitten. How are you feeling?” His answer is you forcing him to sit, as you climb into his lap, face in his neck and drifting back into the call of slumber. Big, lazy, feline, on the best bed you’ve ever found. You hear Mephie complain as his warm blanket disappears, and hear a huffed, “They’re mine, Mephisto.” But you’re comfortable, and warm, and sleep pulls you back under too quickly.

—————

There’s cat fur everywhere, and while you would love a pet cat, you didn’t realise just how bad the shedding would be. Admittedly you are a… very large cat. With very long fur. You cannot stop sneezing, you’re not allergic, you think, but the fur truly does get everywhere you look. Sylus chuckles as you rub at your nose, and after you’ve attached your prosthetic, the two of you get to cleaning.

Sylus is one of those people… you expect to have someone for everything. A cleaner, a chef, a personal valet. You’d realised that he was too untrusting, and every new person was a risk, better to minimise anyone who could cause trouble in his day to day. He’d learned languages to keep his deals contained, he had learned to cook, though you weren’t aware he mostly learned to do that for you, and he cleaned without complaint, because any task with you was worth doing.

Well, he mostly helped you. When he wasn’t finding new things around your apartment to look at, nosing his way through your belongings.

“What’s this?”

“A candle lamp.”

“This?”

“An old Christmas ornament.”

You rarely got to see this side of him, curious and poking around. You supposed he’d never really taken the time to look through your things. He’d definitely wanted to, you remember the first time he entered your apartment, nose flaring and eyes darting around. Like it was full of treasures, and he wanted to claim them.

Instead, he’d held himself back, and been careful not to touch anything, as though it was all fragile, and he was a destructive bull.

He soon plucked a photo album out of your book case, and started to flick through as you swept up a mountain of fur, “This is your family?”

You freeze, dropping the broom, clattering it across the floor. He walks over, hand stroking your head, “I-” You look at the album in his hands. It’s the old photo of you, Gran and Caleb. The same one that used to sit on your desk at work, before you hid it in a draw. The same one that sat in pride of place at Gran’s home… your home, before it was devoured by flames too.

You nod at him, unable to force words past your throat, and he looks at your shaking hand. “Show me?”

Part of you wants to say no. You don’t want to talk about them, your tail is bristled, kicking more fur up into the apartment… but you miss them, and you want him to understand. It’s easier if he understands. You can apologise a million times over for shooting him, but he has to understand what drove you wounded and angry and full of hate into his arms the first time.

So you let him lead you to the sofa, and open the album with him. It documents as much of your life as your memories can hold onto, though some photos are hazy, and when he asks about them, you can’t quite recall. Like there’s a fog around it. You remember parts. You remember that one is a birthday, You’re fifteen, but if he asked you for anything else, you’d only be able to tell him your family were there.

You remember more in your twenties, pointing out photos with college friends. Talking about reckless moments where you got into fights. There are photos of you with bruises on your face, arm around Caleb as you flash the camera a thumbs up. He’s rolling his eyes, but his hand is tight on your waist, like he’s scared to let go.

There’s a change at some point, where you decide you want to be a hunter, where the bruises are now focused around where you train. Where there’s more life in your eyes, a drive you never had before.

“I used to skip classes a lot, didn’t really see the point.” You point at one of the photos, grainy and hard to make out. You and friends in a club. You remember it being midday, you remember being told anything too strenuous could hurt your heart. You remember deciding you didn’t care, because everything was too short.

Sylus listens, arm around you, head on your shoulder. Looking down at captured moments of you. He’s steady, he’s familiar, and there’s no sense of fear, or of falling. It’s not biting at your heels to remind you that they’re gone. You know that intimately. Instead, you point out photos, and you tell him everything you remember about your family. The people who cared about you, despite how much work you were. Who pushed you to do something, to be better.

A photo of you post exams, the first time you wore your hunters uniform, photos of Caleb in his own uniform.

Photos of family meals.

It cuts off at some point. Recent, you think, and you stare at the empty pages. Since that day you’d had no interest in keeping recollections. In keeping up the collection of memories. Photos had become a habit to store, since you were a child. Caleb started it, thinking visuals would keep your memory more stable than the written word. Though he’d still helped you keep a diary.

It had stayed that way ever since. If you took photos, you could never truly forget… right?

There were so many things now, though, that you wanted to keep in your grasp. To never forget. As your fingers stroke the empty page, Sylus pulls his phone out and opens his photo albums. Flicking through the many things he’s saved. Almost all of you. A random lamb. The twins. Mephisto posing. Zayne with his cheeks stuffed with macarons. Raffy with paint on his nose. Xavi sleeping in the grass surrounded by flowers.

You hadn’t really noticed, how often the man next to you kept a record of the world around you. He points the screen at you, and tightens his hand on your waist. “We should get some more printed out. Fill all those empty pages. There’s a distinct lack of me in there, kitten.”

The laugh that escapes you is so wet with tears, you feel bad for it, but the heat in your chest is so precious… like a baby flame you have to nurse and protect.

He has a photo of you, Tara and Nero at the karaoke bar, where Skye made an appearance. Pleasantly tipsy, and far too into whatever horrible song you were singing. Probably very out of tune.

He settles, finally, on a photo of the five of you. A bad selfie, taken with a shaky hand, as Sy tried to get everyone’s heads in. Raffy has climbed Zayne’s back to stick his head into shot, Xavier has his chin on your shoulder, and Sylus has his arm outstretched as far as he can get it, and his arm around you. You’re happy.

You’re happy.

“You’ve been taking a lot.” You speak, and its wet and you sound like you’re going to cry… and truthfully you feel very close. It’s embarrassing and your nose feels weird, but you don’t know what else to do.

“Every moment is worth remembering, Kitten. Of course I have.”

Don’t forget me. Is unspoken.

Don’t stop loving me.

Don’t move forwards, and leave me behind.

You think, that even if you forget, even if you wake up one day not remembering his face. You’ll know his heart and his soul more intimately than you know anything.

Strong emotions, after all, are impossible to truly lose.

——————

“I want salmon.”

“Is that the cat speaking, or my kitten?”

You bat at his arm, fangs flashing at him, tail swishing. “Salmon!”

“Alright, alright.” He chuckles, ruffling your ears and your hair with one big hand, “I quite like you like this.”

Relying on him, you assume, or demanding? You’re not sure. He’s asked you to be greedy many times, to boss him around, to make demands of his time and his life. It’s hard to do, if you rely too much, you worry he’ll start to pull away.

You promised though, you promised.

It wasn’t just a promise to be honest and share your pain, it was a promise to really, truly trust him.

So, you hit his arm without force, “Salmon pasta!”

His laugh is delighted and delightful, and you want to hear it forever. Instead, you sit at the counter, pushing your tail under your leg so it can’t kick up a gust of fur. You’d just finished cleaning after all, and the idea of having yet another mountain of fur to get rid of, didn’t appeal.

“I want to help.” Your ears pinned back, and looking at him in frustration.

Sylus spares you a glance as he looks for one of the many recipes you’d sent him, not asking for them to be made, but excited to find time to try them, “When you’re not a furball, you can help.”

You might be offended, if he weren’t right. “Says the man who spits out feathers with his evol…”

“Not into your food though Kitten.”

You snort. No, into your bed, on your floor, in public places… your favourite cafe. All over his base. Sometimes he cleans them up himself.

Sometimes.

Though you have a few of his feathers saved, using them as bookmarks in books you never seem to find enough time to read. Shame the fur is more messy, you’d quite like feathers… or scales. Something that doesn’t leave you sneezing.

“I bought tickets to a botanical garden.” You look over at him, but he’s not looking at you. Moving through the steps he’s following on his phone, half humming to himself to the music playing at a low volume in the background. “If you feel like going?”

You look down at the tail that’s twitching under your leg, and then over at him again. This time he’s watching you, eyes bright. Eerie if you didn’t know him. Instead you think them a flame, a candle in the dark to lead you. Being out in the noise right now, scares you, but he is there. He will always take you somewhere safe if you need it, he would move mountains, and you can rely on him to help you when you need it.

It is not a weakness to need help.

It’s ok to cry, and be scared.

So you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and nod, “Yeah… yeah I’d like to go.”

You want to see roses with him.

You want to see the world with him.

His smile is small, but his eyes speak more than anything. Relief and happiness at your trust. Love shining in garnet. “Tomorrow then.”

Tomorrow.

A future, no matter how close ahead.

[candycryptids]

>:3 !!!!

[dicenete]

Helloooooo0, some more Idia Shroud fanart, now inspired by screenshots from Disney's Hercules. Because I HAVE A THEORY! = I'm rambling again. :) Note that at the time when I'm writing this I have just finished Book 6 and I haven't started Book 7 yet. So this will contain some spoilers for Book 6. And everything under the cut as always :)

Also Disney's Hercules took a lot of creative liberties with the Greek mythology. Like Hera being the one trying to kill Hercules, rather than Hades because Zeus was being a horny bastard. And Hades being pretty straight up guy compared to his contemporaries. But I will be using the Disney movie as the basis since that is where the game takes its inspirations.

THESIS:

Idia Shroud from Twisted Wonderland is more like a twisted version of Hercules rather than Hades from the Disney movie.

Here me out:

Sure, his visual design is pretty much inspired by Hades and I love it. And the fact that he has a job that was bestowed upon him by his bloodline rather than by his own choice. (Zeus forcing Hades to take care of the Underworld full of dead souls and so on. ) And how Idia is pretty sarcastic like Hades when he is avoiding serious talking or pointing out absurd things. Let's just say, I take this as the surface personality of Idia.

But underneath it all, what do we have? We have a person who wants to be normal. What did Hercules want to be in the start of the movie? A normal person. Someone who was accepted and someone who could fit in among his peers. That is ultimately what Idia wants. Idia wants to be liked. That's why I think he was inspired to be a hero when he was young, something Hercules also wants to be to gain acceptance. (Hercules does it to be with his biological family again and so on.)

They are both awkward in social situations, other kinda in this himbo way and other in this nerdy awkwardness kinda way.

They both go into Underworld to find the person who was the most important to them. Hercules - Megara / Idia - Ortho

BUT ALSO! At the end of the movie, Hercules wants to stay as a mortal because he found acceptance with Meg. Idia could have stayed with S.T.Y.X. If he really wanted. I'm pretty sure with that. But he chose to go back to NRC because he, with encouragement with Ortho, wanted to experience life before he has to go and be the Watchman of the Underworld. He has a long way to go, he really harbors so much self-hatred and uncounciously self-sabotages himself. It is good thing that he has Ortho calling him out on it.

I really hope to see him grow and like himself more in the future :)

(I just loved all the Greek mythology names and references in the Book 6, it is such *chef's kiss * Like how Star Rogue is pretty much the tale of Zeus fighting against his father Chronos who has eaten all his other siblings and so on.)

[deathofacupid]

helloo this is my first time in a while requesting so if this doesn't make much sense then that's whyy

could I please request peter parker with an s/o who does competitive cheer as a sport, and gets hurt a lot because they have a lot of main parts in routines (like tumbling nd holding girls up nd stuff), peter is always concerned for them cuz they r always hurting something but he also loves seeing them perform at comps and stuff

if you want a better understanding of the sport u could research! but thanks in advance <3

pom-poms and bruises | peter parker

a/n: your request was great, no worries! i did do my fair share of research, but lemme tell you, my knowledge on cheer (or, like, any sport) is mad limited. if i got some information incorrect, i apologize in advance! i took... creative liberties (?) and changed some minor details - instead of competitive cheer, it's high school cheer. enjoy the fic, and i hope i did this request it's justice. sorry this took so long!!

summary: peter can't help but worry seeing you all bruised up, but no matter what, he's your biggest fan.

warnings: the ouchies, innuendos to sex

pairing: fem!cheerleader!reader x peter parker

word count: 1.8k+ words

"oh jeez," peter sighs, rubbing his thumb over the bruise on your cheek. it was a blue-purple, indicating that it was fresh. "what happened?"

you wave him off, grinning, "you know how it goes, battle scars and all."

"scar?" he cocks a brow.

sighing, "battle bruise isn't half as badass."

"right, i forgot the most important thing is proclaiming our dominance in the social hiearchy of the big ol' globe. and obviously not our physical health."

"you wouldn't understand, baby. it's a full time job."

gently, peter pushes you up against your locker. leaning in to whisper, he says, "i wouldn't, angel? best believe i've got battle scars of my own."

"ugh. so not the same. not everyone has the luck of getting to be a human-spider."

"yeah, okay, luck."

"you seriously cannot complain," you deadpan. "that bite did you favors! like, down there, you grew at least- mmph-!"

peter covers your mouth with his hand, "we are not having this conversation."

"it was a compliment! i mean, it's not like you sucked before or anything. i'm just saying it... improved... you."

"somehow, this isn't going the direction you think it is."

"oops. i didn't mean to hurt your over-inflating ego."

"first off, if anyone has an ego that needs to be kept in check, it's you."

"don't blame me," you tell him, "blame the girls," you're referring to your cheer team, pinching his cheeks. "but... maybe i can compensate with a kiss?"

he feigns annoyance, "i suppose." in response, you lean in for a kiss, melting at his touch.

peter kisses your bruise as well, letting it linger for a moment longer. "does it hurt?" he asks.

"barely," you shrug, leaning in for more, but he isn't quite focused on that at the moment. giving you a look, he softly pokes your cheek, to which you wince.

"right. barely."

"don't be a worry-wart, worry-wart."

"i'm not! 'm just concerned!"

"puh-lease," you scoff. "you come back worse! remember that time you broke and entered into my bedroom, then proceed to bleed out onto that cute new rug?"

he looks down, epitome of cute puppy. "yes," peter says, guilty, "i do."

you pat his stomach, nuzzling your nose against his. "see? so you have nothing to worry about. me, on the other hand," you trail off.

"nah. you don't have anything to worry about either, angel."

"watch me worry anyways," you snort.

he pinches your cheeks, and you swat his hands away. "watch it!"

"you're my intellectual property."

"oh, so you're objectifying me now?"

"wait- no! no, of course not!"

"lemme me just say right now, may would not be happy."

peter groans, shoving you away.

"no!" you giggle, "i'm sorry! i won't snitch!"

he peeks an eye open, turning his head just barely to look at you. "fine, i guess," peter pulls you back.

"hey, petey?"

"hm?" he asks, nuzzled in your neck. there's just a few minutes before class starts, and he wants to make the most of it.

"are you coming to the game? it's my first year of being captain, and, well, it'd be cool if you came." suddenly you're more bashful than giggly, and he's quick to assure you.

"are you kidding me? of course i'm coming. i'm not missing the chance to see my girl shine.

"you sure? because i know you don't care for foot-"

"shhh," he presses his palm to your mouth. "yeah, i hate football, but i just to happen to love y- god!" he exclaims as you lick his hand, but in your defense, what did peter expect?"

"you put in on my mouth!"

peter narrows his eyes at you, "vermin."

"see you tonight?"

"see you tonight," peter replies as the bell rings. with one last kiss, you part ways.

your hair was done, two yellow and blue bows to tie the look together. midtown theme eyeshadow was painted on your eyelids, with stars dotted on your cheekbones. you have your cheer uniform on, and you're basically jumping with how giddy you are.

part of you is nervous, because you don't want to mess this up. every year, a senior is picked to be captain, with a junior as a mentee. not only do you have to set a good example for the junior this year, but you have to wow everyone.

checking your makeup one more time, you grab your purse, heading out to the car.

by the time you get there, your teammates are already stretching. on the other side of the field, football players are warming up. last year, liz was captain, well, before she moved. then she got replaced by gwen.

you knew liz and peter... okay, so you weren't completely sure, but they had something. some part of you wanted to be better than liz, entirely for peter. you know it was silly, but you felt like you had something to prove. some families are already in, which is funny, because there's an hour to the game.

it's normally parents and friends of the cheerleaders/players that get here before most people, but there are some occasions.

peter's here, you know that. you haven't looked for him yet, but as you get up, you scan the bleacher. finally, you spot a curly, brown-haired boy (it helps that he's waving like crazy) and his aunt. you blow a kiss to them, grin present of your face.

tasha, one your girls, taps your shoulder, "we're gonna run our routine a couple times, okay? just before the game starts." you pull your eyes away from may and peter, nodding at her.

the familiar music of your routine starts playing. the first part's easy, synchronized movements, shoulder-to-shoulder.

as the routine progresses, you feel the familiar rush of adrenaline. you spot the base of the pyramid, their arms outstretched, and with a deep breath, you allow yourself to be pulled upwards.

their grip is firm and reassuring as you climb, hand over hand, until you reach the apex. a split second later, you're soaring through the air, launching into a full backflip.

as you launch yourself into the backflip, you feel your body twist off-axis. the ground rushes up to meet you, and with a sickening thud, you land flat on your face. a gasp escapes your lips, the sting of impact radiating through your jaw.

the cheers falter for a moment, but your teammates are quick to react. they rush to your side, concern etched on their faces. you sit up, momentarily stunned, but the pain quickly makes itself known.

just as soon as it's there, it's gone, leaving you slightly sore. "i'm okay!" you call out, lopsided smile on your face. the first person you look for is peter, who's already heading towards you.

gently, he moves everyone away. "jesus, are you okay? what'd you fall onto? your head? wait, are you dizzy? lightheaded? nauseated?" peter grabs your by the chin, hurry to inspect everything on your face.

"baby, baby," you say, cradling his hand. "i'm okay, i swear. i might've bruised something... like my ego," you joke, smile on your face, but he is not amused.

"no? okay. well, honestly my jaw is too, or will be," you point to the left side. "'s red?"

"yeah," he winces, "it's gonna leave a nasty bruise." you're sure it's not as bad with makeup on, but you can't be sure.

"does anyone have concealer?" you call out.

jenny, a girl that's your shade nods, "yeah! i'll grab it!" she tosses it to you, and you catch it perfectly.

peter presses his lips together, "so no concussion?"

"because i caught it? to be fair, that was mostly luck."

his eyes widen. "but no! i don't have any concussions!"

peter tilts his head, "icepack?"

"nah. i'm good, really."

he hesitates, "okay. be careful though, seriously." you don't feel like hearing a lecture right now, so you nod quickly.

"i will, i will!"

"because i swear-"

"you won't have to! i'm all good. now leave," you joke, "you're embarrassing me. if i wanted to be smothered, i would've asked for my mom."

he blows a raspberry at you, and gives you a quick kiss. "be careful," he repeats, "and good luck!" he jogs back over to may, and you watch him leave.

jenny giggles as you brush yourself off, "you guys are so cute."

blushing, you murmur a thanks. quickly, you grab your phone to cover up the forming bruise. and there's not really time for another run-through.

all you can do is hope it won't happen again.

there's a small dance at the start of the game and some other here and there, but it's not anything crazy. what is crazy is halftime.

as you get into your position, you fidget. "you'll be great," one of the girls tell you.

"thank you," you smile.

"yeah, no, you will," says another.

you don't feel super ready, not after that fall, but there's not much you can do about it.

the song, louder than before, echoes through your eardrums, a roll of excitement passes through you. no matter how anxious you are, you'll always love cheer.

it's your safe place.

the music swells, and you launch into a series of cheers with your teammates, your voice ringing out in perfect unison. as the routine progresses, you feel the familiar rush of adrenaline. you spot the base of the pyramid, their arms outstretched, and with a deep breath, you allow yourself to be pulled upwards.

their grip is firm and reassuring as you climb, hand over hand, until you reach the apex. a split second later, you're soaring through the air, launching into a full backflip.

you twist perfectly, landing with a confident thud back in the waiting arms of your base. the crowd erupts in cheers, and you beam, the thrill of the successful stunt coursing through you.

you did it, and everyone's squealing. peter's not that far from where you are, and you can hear him shrieking; "that's my girlfriend!"

you grin at him, and he whoops again.

the rest of the game flies by, and you finish the last routine. midtown ends up winning 20-17.

peter scooping you up in his arms, spinning you around. "that was awesome! seriously, like, mind-blown! and you didn't fall this time!"

may comes up beside him, hugging you, "you did fantastic, sweetheart. freaked me out with that fall, though," she chuckles, and you kiss her cheek. "my bad," you tell her, rubbing the back of your neck.

"hey, pete, hun, i'm gonna head out, okay? hospital shift was crazy."

you frown, "was it late?"

may sighs, "two a.m. to five p.m."

"oh, may, you should've gone home to get rest!"

"and miss my lovely girl's big night? you're crazy."

"aww," you coo, hugging her again. "sleep well, okay?"

"oh, please, i'll be knocked out like a baby." you laugh as she leaves.

"we should totally get ice cream," peter says.

"ooh, yes!"

"wait, don't you have an after party?"

"i'd rather spend it with you," peter pecks your lips. "and, we can have extra dessert," he winks.

you frown in confusion, "like cupcakes too? can we get cho- oh. oh! i really, really like that idea."

"good. i'm gonna let you know how badass of a girlfriend you are."

"why don't we skip straight to the second dessert? switch things up?"

taglist: @whatsupstark @ell0ra-br3kk3r @idli-dosa @susvale @kdbsr-h @littlemsbumblebee @sflame15-blog @twinsunkithies @chocolateshepherddreamclod @one-piece-frvr7 @477strberry

[avikard]

hi, everyone!! i'm back (I don't know for how long) with a redesign of a one character from “Hazbin Hotel”

i thought it would be interesting to see what would happen if i tried to interpret some of his design tricks in my own way. and, honestly, i wanted to make it so that i could guess his young age (from the original design, you can't tell that the character is at least 30, let alone 60-70, haha)

i think he suits this slight sophistication and stockiness, and i also tried to leave references to the card suits in his design (pay attention to the face and forehead, there you can see the diamonds and hearts)

and i also thought the green color did a great job of diluting the abundance of red and allowing the character to stand out against hell's backdrop

since he is stated as a cat-bird demon, i took the liberty of interpreting him as a cat-owl, as it is convenient to combine them, they have a lot in common, and the owl as a bird resonates with Husk as a character (in my personal opinion)

[wisyhana]

I don't know how to say this without sounding rude, but we need artists to learn how weight works so they stop missing on the holding like a princess type of pose.

EXAMPLE

Okay, this is not the greatest example, but I refuse to use other artist's art without their permission. I know I didn't make it correctly but let's pretend I did.

So, if you don't want to look for stock images as reference, I understand, but if you want to find the logic on how weight works you gotta understand how the body's weight works first.

This is how I understand it btw, if I'm wrong with how I explain it well I'm wrong, but this way I can help myself to not get so many floaty bodies.

The human body has a gravity point, if I'm not wrong in males is in the pelvis and females a bit lower. Most of weight on the body resides on head and torso. For infants all the weight is on the head for how big it is in comparison of the rest of the body. So how gravity affects all this points?

The gravity point helps the body keep the balance when you stand, if your were hold this way before you noticed how all weight go crazy, specifically in your lower part. This is gravity affecting the body. The parts of your body with more weight will obviously go down, meaning that your lower part and back will need an external force to not drop directly to the ground.

So depending on the type of body the weight will affect more parts than others. For example the male body isn't made to gain lot of fat but muscles, adding that it also tends to gain on the upper part than the lower. So for men to be held this way is their torso the one getting a lot of the weight and tension.

The person holding the other needs the strength to hold all that weight, so a hand crossing the back and locking under the armpit is more or less a good place to do (AVOID DRAWING EM HOLDING BY THE NECK, THE NECK DOESN'T HOLD SHIT OF THE REST OF THE BODY, THAT WOULD ONLY MAKE THE LOWER PART GET ALL THE WEIGHT AND IMMEDIATELY FALL). But then you have the lower part, where do you hold it? From the back of the knee is an ideal, in this drawing I didn't like how the hand looked in that position so I took some liberties.

But we can't ignore how this extra weight affects the gravity point of the other person.

The extra body easily press against the other, which will requiere more of the other to balance two bodies basically. The back bends to let the pelvis receive the weight of the second person. The work of the arms is to distribute equally the weight to the body, weak arms mean more weight to the body, which ends on unbalance.

You can also work a lot with the balance of the bodies depending on how tense the person being held is. Remember, losing your own balance means extra work of your body to find equilibrium, it probably will end on a very tense body, specially if the person is not prepared for it. If it's a surprise hold probably the person being held will try to grab to the other with their arms and hands, so there's a lot to play with them too. You can show how strong the other is by showing which direction their torso is bending, are they strong? they'd be standing straight for sure, are they weak? they'd bend backwards and instinctively waiting for their pelvis to receive all the weight. In this part body language is crucial to show the personalities of each individual.

Hope this helps in any way!

[gemsofgreece]

Η ΦΟΝΙΣΣΑ (The Murderess): A film review

My cinecritic side greets you again! This time I watched The Murderess, (only!) half a year after its release. I had to watch this one because it is based on my favourite Greek book, written by Alexandros Papadiamantis, which is also one of the most acclaimed Greek stories.

I knew that the movie would be underwhelming compared to the book because there was not any chance a movie could match it. Therefore it was unsurprising that I had this watered down response to it. It is a good movie, it has several merits. If you have read the book however, you tend to focus on the drawbacks and those are very prominent.

My biggest issue was the understandable choice to make adjustments to the story, in order to fill it some more, because the original is a short story. Reasonable, yet the adjustments made were in my opinion poorly thought out for several reasons.

PROS:

The cinematography is amazing. I also liked the camera work. Congratulations to Eva Nathena, very neat job. Very haunting atmosphere, great scenery chosen. We need more creative direction in Greek movies, so this was refreshing. However, I have some criticism about it too, below.

The elements of the folk culture and the architecture were beautiful and very interesting. The movie in general is stylized (in an appropiate way) and I have no problem with this at all. Nathena's first profession is actually costume designer, so her attention to detail makes total sense.

The score is imposing and appropriately used.

Karabeti has the leading role. Obviously, the acting is great. I will say that I had imagined Frankogiannou different in my mind, even less refined or, idk less agile?, but that doesn't mean her approach is not valid.

Okay this is silly but it was a long time since I read the book and that moment when Frankogiannou says to her daughter "Σα σ' ακούω, θυγατέρα", a reference to her favourite catchphrase, it brought back the memory I had forgotten and I nearly cheered!

I did not like the liberties taken in the screenplay but I LOVED Maria Protopappa as Frankogiannou's mother. This character does not exist in the book but I don't care, she was amazing. Honestly she doesn't do all that much but her presence, so DORIC so STERN so SCARY. A perfect portayal of an abusive, misogynistic mother. I don't know, she was chilling, unpopular opinion but somehow I liked her more than Karabeti. Of course I acknowledge Karabeti's part was a lot harder.

Protopappa as Frankogiannou's mother, facing the camera.

CONS:

I already praised the cinematography, right? Yes, it was good but I would appreciate it more if the story actually took place in Mani! The story however takes place in Skiathos, not Mani! Whereas the choice to film such a dark story in an ominous place like Mani seems fitting, the true challenge would be to bring it to life in a happy looking place like Skiathos, where it is supposed to have happened after all. In short, the scenery fits the story but it was also a cheap trick to avoid making the direction more challenging. If foreign followers read this, Nathena in short said "I have a very dark movie to direct so I'll shoot it in this place

so I will avoid filming it in its original place which looks like this:"

I mean, the scenery looked awesome but you get what I mean? Moreover, my point is that she removed a lot of the realism from the movie - the scenery looks so gloomy, the people are so pensive, it kind of creates a type of dystopia where the Murderess's tale is just another part of it and not a shocking outlier.

[this paragraph contains spoilers]Which brings me to the second point. For anyone who doesn't know, the Murderess was written in 1903 by Alexandros Papadiamantis, a man, and it is one of the very first feminist literary works quite possibly on an international level. The way the inequality against women is portrayed in the book is so... novel and unique and genius and groundbreaking for its time and even for today, that I loathed to see it getting a coating of the standard contemporary mass feminist perspective. Because on its own, it was in my opinion far more successful and piercing. There are a lot of changes made in the film. Essentially, all men are depicted as straight out monsters and the only man who was probably not a monster, the priest, is blind. Get it? As in, blind to the evilness. That level of symbolism, come on, guys. Too much. Furthermore, the movie makes the whole community of the town in some way or another complicit to what is happening. That was horrible in my opinion. Instead of showing how inequality and hardship created an outlier whose mind got in a really bad place, like Papadiamantis did, the movie just creates a whole society of horror, where most everyone is a criminal. What is this, the Lord of the Flies? Men are viewed as problematic in Papadiamantis' book as well but in a more realistic way, some being absent, some being indifferent husbands, some being lazy, some rejoicing in their gender privilege and living expecting everything from women. But in the movie ALL of them are !Spoiler! kin rapists and kin killers??????The fuck?????? Live your myth in Greece, I suppose. [SPOILER] The incident of female infant killing by poor people who had no money to raise and provide a dowry for their daughters was indeed a phenomenon in Greece and elsewhere before the abolition of this custom (as pointed out in the movie credits), maybe it still is in some countries, but I want to believe that it wasn't happening in the way that it happens in this movie. In the movie this town's people are one step away from hiring her as a professional baby killer. Like, that wasn't how it was happening or how often it was happening. They turned a documented crime of the past into a custom?! A person who was suspected to do that did not casually live amongst the rest with their family as if everything was alright. Which is why it is stupid in the film that even though most everybody has asked her help (apparently in this movie they were giving birth everyday to 58259 girls and 0.1 boys), then everyone turns against her and wants her arrested. In short, she was portrayed almost as a scapegoat and I did not like this. It's like abdicating her a lot from her guilt. She is a tragic character indeed but she is not a scapegoat. And in the book the townfolk had no idea what she was doing until it became obvious.

At least a little touch of the extremely heavy, drool-enducing Skiathian dialect Papadiamantis was known for using was greatly missed. Then again there was nothing from Skiathos in this movie whatsoever. Even the folk attire was not Skiathian. It looked like a mix of Peloponnesian and Roumeliote, totally irrelevant. It wasn't even Maniot, I think.

Too. Many. Symbolic. Scenes. It made sense to add them but I mostly enjoyed only the ones with Protopappa.

The acting of the supporting cast was subpar in my opinion. Not bad necessarily but too theatrical for my taste.

So, with all this in mind but also taking into account that someone may watch it without having read the book first, I give it a 7+/10. If you compare it to the book, it must fall to a 6+/10. My recommendation? Watch the movie if you want but read the book ASAP.

[gore-emporium]

Extremum Vitae Spiritum Edere - Immortan Joe/ Female OC - Part 1

Trigger warning: Objectification, violence against men, and physical restraints.

A bit of a preface—this is going to be a relaxed story. Nothing fully creepy yet, just a lot of character build-up. As things come out, I'll put trigger warnings and all that jazz. I'm also taking a lot of creative liberties, because I have so many wonderful references cooking in my brain.

We're also going by Furiosa's depiction of immortan Joe. The older actor was such a sweetheart and I want to keep it that way.

So let me know what you think! And I'll try to keep writing for those that care to read!

-

The muzzled and chained woman knelt next to the pool as she watched the gentle ripple of the water. Everyone avoided her like a rabid, diseased dog—at least the younger women did. She didn’t help, of course, she was quick to anger and beyond hostile to anyone that came too close. But the other women found a tinge of pity for her. This was the first time they've experienced a woman that fought the mortal god every step of the way. Especially one that beat everyone short of him for presumed recent slights. Mrs. Giddy and the female mechanic were the first to reassure that the feral woman just needed time to adjust. That in due time, she would come to see them as sister.

Nonetheless, they all watched from a distance as she gently let her fingers touch the surface of the water. Yet despite her weak attention on the body, she ignored her captor and his entourage entering the vault. She hardly reacted when she was called for as she used her locked hair to obscure their view of her. That didn’t stop the leader from stepping in by approaching her first. Many of the men in his group seemed petrified to see and be around her.

“Get up…” the mortal god said coldly as he pulled the woman up by her arm. Earning an immediate vocal retaliation as she pulled herself low to resist. But he was clearly much more refined in his strength. His hand clearly hurt her, but she gave no reaction as he easily yanked her up and took her to the mechanic.

“Stop touching people with your fucking hands!” she growled gruffly as she nearly freed herself from his iron grip. Nevertheless he did as he pleased with her as he had the foresight to hold her by the back of her collar. Although this was quite an unusual sight, this was the first time they heard the woman speak. She was clearly older than the younger wives, but her voice may have also been due to her lack of communication. Or the yelling she had clearly been doing towards these men.

“Look at you— a wolf among fillies,” the mechanic mocked as he moved to us the key to unlock her steel muzzle. “Don’t go attacking the flock when you get upset now,” he continued as he removed it with a careful but quick movement. He clearly didn’t trust that she capable of self-control. Even Rictus flinched when she gave the two a guttural scream.

That was clearly the reason for her voice.

Either way, the women found her to be rather easy on the eyes despite the rage and hatred warping her face. They especially didn’t mind the indented lines on her face that the mask made resting against her for so long. She was very much a wastelander and one with facial jewelry—a pierced nose and lip. Joe wasn’t one to allow them such things. It was an “unnecessary addition” in his eyes, and weakened the assumed beauty of their faces. Maybe it didn’t apply yet or it wasn’t worth the trouble from the look of her sharp canine teeth, or her similar size to the men around her.

“Now-now, behave and you’ll get a nice treat later…” That only pushed her to knee the mechanic between the legs as she looked coldly at him. Despite Joe's controlling the situation, he only watched as the younger man crumpled over. She further assaulted him by giving a sharp kick to the face. Clearly bringing some much needed satisfaction to the feral woman's sweet face.

“…Are you done?” The mortal god kept his voice short and even as he wrangled her back in with ease. Although it didn’t stop her from lunging at the scared giant, who held a new leather muzzle in his hand.

“…I—I told you we needed to chain her to a bed…the little bitch gets off on terrorizing us…” the crumpled man breathed as she smiled briefly.

Nonetheless, the far older man turned his back to the mechanic and ignored his further comments as usual. “Bathe her,” he ordered while shoving away the feral woman towards the elder of the group who waited with concern. Despite her hostile reaction she went to the woman quietly and glared over her shoulder at the man eyeing her as she was undressed.

“…Haven’t you seen enough naked women?…or do you get off on public displays?” she growled as she stepped out of the fabric pooled around her feet. She was a lovely sight, her dark body was well maintained and even a bit muscular and polite in her upper body. Mrs. Giddy did make it clear to the women that she came from the black thumbs and warboys. The object of their current attention, strangely enough, was only discovered recently.

She even had another piercing on her belly button, and small, thick scars here and there. The main one that stuck out was a deep thick scar that rested above her upper right rib cage. Slicing in half, what appeared to be, a tattoo in an unfamiliar language to most of them. Nonetheless despite her previous behavior, she articulated herself well and spoke with precision and disgust when she addressed the man. She even lacked the accent most wasterlanders had—it felt foreign yet not too dissimilar to theirs.

“…Leave him be, dear,” the history woman took her arm and led her to the water. Her chains jingled with each step until he stopped them in their tracks

“…what is on your back?” he said, almost intrigued despite his usual coldness as he took short strides to move her hair from her back. For some of the wives, revealing an intricate tattoo of a large cat. Some knew it in passing, but only that this creature had long been gone.

“…A lizard…What does it look like to you?” The object of his attention sarcastically shot back despite the older woman trying to hush her. With ease he turned her around to look at the rest of her. With little concern, he held her hair from his view. Leaving his hand more than too close for comfort to her face. After a moment of carefully searching she finally asked, “are you done? There’s nothing different about my body than everyone else here…personal advice—check before people get this far. You might not see what you like…then again, all tyrants like anything they can play with as long as they can break it…” Despite her constant disrespect, he did little to curb her behavior. Almost like one accepting that their cat does as it pleases most of the time—a "free-spirit". Only an issue when she attacked him physically.

Finally letting her go, he watched as she was taken to pool as a wife came with the brushes and combs. The lightly brown water proved that her hair hadn’t been fully tended to prior to her entrance. The preparer’s negligence could have resulted in the wives becoming ill. Especially with the material that sticks to the black thumbs after hundreds of days working on bikes, cars, and war rigs. Thankfully, he was able to assume that the other wives steered clear of her—and she steered clear of them. Even her elder was only able to aid her a little as the far taller woman scrubbed and brushed at her own hair until the water ran clear from her hair. He assumed this may have been due to the texture of her hair, or distrust of even the woman before her.

“There we go,” the history woman softly said after she checked her roots and ends. The younger woman however did allow her to wring the water from her locks before gently brushing her hair off of any loose curls and lint.

“Well…” the mortal asked once he became impatient with the process. Even after they shifted focus on her skin and private matters.

“She’s ready to join the other wives,” the woman answered respectfully, as she took a sheet and helped the woman dry off. The long chains that linked her collar and cuffs impacted her mobility. Unlike the other ferals, he preferred to keep the women uninjured and healthy. She would be useless to him if she couldn't feed or stop herself from being injured from a simple fall.

“…The chains stay…any missteps and the muzzle will stay one for the foreseeable future.”

He didn’t bother sticking around to watch her be dressed and tended to further. Leaving Rictus to glance at the muzzle before following suit with the others.

“He won’t let you speak like that for much longer, dear,” the historian warned her as she wrapped the simple dress above her breasts.

The woman seemed more enraptured by the disgusting situation but she managed to hold her tongue. “…I’m not going to pretend like I can help myself…” She grumbled as managed to keep her hair wrapped in the sheet despite the limits of her chains. “…Me and tyrants just don’t have a good track record…I certainly don’t like the ones who need this kind of company.” The older woman gently patted her arm as she quickly became agitated again. “Sorry, I wasn’t more courteous earlier…you never know if this is just an extension of his cult…the last thing I need is to be told that ‘life’s great and we’re just doing our part.’ I’m not exactly interested in making a old-worlder happy for the rest of my days…”

The younger wives were enraptured by the way she articulated herself. She was such a hard woman—they figured she was another senseless killer. They were pleasantly surprised to find a woman more well poised than the tyrant. Although, like Mrs. Giddy, they worried what would happen if she failed not to play along.

“Well, I have good news for you, sweetheart. He only keeps you until you give him a messed up pup or two.” the rusty redhead said as she leaned over the upper wall of the balcony. She was slim and average height. She was the only ginger with freckles and brown eyes. She was clearly one of the older wives, and she was a wasterlander. One of the only women in this room to have an undeniable tattoo of a dagger between her breasts. Possibly an old gang tattoo by looks of it—the lines were still thick but the colors were faded.

Nonetheless her input hardly surprised the group of women outside of the newcomer. She was the one to break bad news in such a straightforward and humiliating way. The latter depending on who was on the receiving end.

“Obviously, he has no sense of danger. He sees a woman like you and still thinks he can get what he want like the pretty little things here…I’ll give him this, you might be able to actually give him a normal little runt…shame he can barely knock anyone up like he goes through warboys.”

They expected the woman to get annoyed or enraged again by the news, yet she seemed beyond amused. “Here I thought he needed a change of pace, turns out he’s just another man obsessed with multiplying…I’m surprised he hasn’t had a heart attack yet.”

“You should see the junk the mechanic gives him to keep it up… You might as well count how many women here had to hear his disgusting voice. All that man is good for is adding to the amount of women that want to shove his rotten dick down his throat. He practically lives off of our bitterness—he’ll die when someone rips his face off for just looking at ‘em sideways.”

…

A few days passed and the dark-skinned woman was slowly acclimating—although not many people spoke to her fully. She wasn’t surprised, she had no tenacity for kindness in the previous days. As much as she adored the warboys that helped her work on one of the war rigs, they’re feverish dedication to the tyrant made her skin crawl. She was never allowed to criticize a man most of them hadn’t seen. And she certainly wasn’t allowed to criticize their strange religion.

Sighing to herself, she sat against the wall as she wondered what she would even do here. She was practically in a safety zone fighting against even a speck of dust. The place was so unbearably clean and hardly scented that she felt like the world was turning in reverse. The constant baths and grooming drove her crazy. Why waste precious water when people out there are dying of thirst? Especially the people that dedicate their lives to throwing themselves at this man’s feet for not even scraps. The “wretched”, she presumed, only turned to him because he was the only thing in this useless wasteland that didn’t throw them into the fire or riddle them with bullets. It was probably the fact that most of them were too crippled to leave this place. But she had the luxury of saying those things—she hadn’t been to the wasteland in years. She lived on the coast where things were still salvageable. There were so many options to live functioning lives, but the gas and water wars made it impossible to do anything. There was still saltwater, but the time it took to purify it was borderline useless. They were just lucky that nature was healing itself slowly to the point of it being a luxury to have meat—albeit fish—again. Either way, It was her home. So many people must be worried about her. She was only supposed to be gone, at most, 365 days and it was already likely well over that. She worried so much for her son—he was more than old enough to fend for himself, but he was still his little boy. She worried every which way about him even when life was good and reasonable.

“…hi…” one of the younger wives greeted despite her using her hair to obscure her face. The older woman neither wanted to be gawked at or constantly approached when the young ones got too invested in her. “...How are you?”

“I’m alright,” she answered, straightening out and allowing her hair to slip away from her eyes, “How are you?”

“…I’m doing good,” the teen with tan skin and long dark hair was clearly gearing up to ask a question, “um…why don’t you like Joe? He does everything to keep us safe. And he makes sure we’re happy and well taken care of. I’m sure if you're nice to him, he’ll be nice to you.” She tried to be helpful, and it was appreciated. However, she was certain of the blond sandy haired woman, that was lingering nearby, expected nothing good from this exchange.

“…Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind…but I can’t make any promises. I’m not very good with authority…” the elder woman answered with a soft smile. She figured that this had been her life since—she didn’t know better yet.

This immediately put the younger woman at ease, earning a nervous smile in return. “What’s your name? I’m Cheedo.”

“…Vicious, but Vee is shorter,” the dark skinned woman answered with slight amusement.

“Is that your mother's name?” She was clearly asking if that was her real name or nickname. The wastelander never expected the younger wives to know what that meant or that it was a common distinction in your identity. These girls weren’t exactly well tuned to the outside world.

“No,” she chuckled, “my mother’s name is very special to me, so I prefer to use my nickname.“

“…Can I sit with you?” The young wife asked with a hopeful, shy smile.

“Whatever makes you happy,” she returned the smile as she sat down. The slim blond followed suit by watching them from a seat on the stairs.

[insteading]

The escape from the Red Flag Fleet ship is scored with the first movement of Mozart's Symphony #25, aka "Little G Minor."

I feel like someone involved in choosing classical music this season is riffing on a set of movies that were released in the 1980s and '90s, focused on figures from classical music history, developing fictional narratives of their lives scored by their music.

Beethoven's Symphony #7, 2nd movement, scored an attempted suicide in Immortal Beloved, a 1994 Gary Oldman vehicle that my teachers hated for the liberties it took with Beethoven's life ("but the soundtrack is obviously very good"). In OFMD it scores the last encounter we've seen between Ed and Izzy.

"La Folia" is an indelible part of Tous les Matins du Monde (1991), a movie that spins a complicated relationship between two musicians and their families. (I don't remember my music history prof being irritated by this one, possibly because composers Marin Marais' and Jean de Sainte-Colombe's lives are less thoroughly documented than Beethoven's or Mozart's, and their music is likelier to be new to an audience. The soundtrack is also great. If you watch this film, also please note that it includes a completed suicide, because apparently we could not have a classical music biopic in these two decades without that.)

Mozart's Symphony #25 scores the [CN: attempted suicide] opening scene and credits of Amadeus (1984), a fictionalized biography of Mozart from the perspective of one Antonio Salieri, an unreliable narrator who hates the younger composer's guts. The opening of Amadeus juxtaposes Salieri's suicidal despair against the madcap whirl of a court that has rejected him in favor of Mozart. (Teachers: "Enjoy this as a movie with a great soundtrack. If you think it's actual history your exams will not go well for you.")

Immortal Beloved and Amadeus both try to defamiliarize deeply familiar music so we can better imagine it as the popular music it once was. And-- much like a lot of Edward Teach-focused fanfic!-- they treat their central figures like deeply troubled rock stars with tension between their personalities and their personae. Whatever their regard for the historical record, they want to feel the personal stake of historical conflicts. We may not be in an asylum as Salieri is, but we probably know what it is like to envy someone's talent. We have almost certainly experienced a complicated teacher-student relationship that includes both admiration and hostility. And we probably have at some point alienated a person close to us, or have been alienated by someone close to us.

I can't say with certainty that folks working on music for OFMD asked themselves, "What classical music will remind audience members of a certain age of films that had a great deal of respect for the music they included, but a cheekily irreverent approach to history that we share?" But if they did, cheers to them-- they did well! And they chose references that share conflicts with OFMD.

Also? These films each have at least one character whose life is so unbearable to them that they seek to end it-- and in two cases, that happens while music that scores scenes in Our Flag episodes is playing. I think, given Ed's state in s2 so far, that is also relevant.

[youchangedmedestiel]

I haven't been tagged but whatever I tag myself because I want to play too, so let's go:

20 Questions for Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 26

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 48,108

3. What fandoms do you write for? Just Supernatural. Let's face it, just Destiel. Except for one fic that is mostly about Dean, but Sam is there too.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Never going to apologize for saving you, Inspiring Fanfiction, Thanked as deserved, Warm and soft skin, Quit being cute!

5. Do you respond to comments? Of course I do. Every single one of them. Because those makes me so happy that I need to thank people for this.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I love happy endings so that's hard. But it would be There is nothing stupid about you and me, because of what happens in canon or more like never happens.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Who knew it would be harder than the previous question. I'd say it's Thanked as deserved.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I never had hate on fics, I really hope I never will.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yeah, I do. I never thought I would but I can't deny it anymore. I'm still shy about it and I always write smut with context. It's really hard to write, to describe and especially when there is two men involved in the smut, pronouns are a nightmare. What kind? Destiel smut, does that count as a kind? Let's say it does.

10. Do you write crossovers? Np, I don't feel the need to write fanfiction like I do with Destiel for other fandoms.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? No, not that I'm aware of at least.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No but I wouldn't be against it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, writing is still really new to me, I don't know how I could make this work. It's very personal I guess.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I think you're going to fall head over heels with this information but it's Destiel. Yeah, I know, big news.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? My looong fic idea about an alternate season 9 where Cas stays human, because I LOVE human$Cas, but they still have to deal with all the plots that happen in this season: the angels, Metatron, Crowley and Abaddon (also Kevin stays alive in my fic). I really hope I could finish it one day though.

16. What are your writing strengths? Hard one. I'd say inspiration. Sometimes it comes to me without me controlling the thing actually. I also like to think I write them true to themselves in canon, well at least I try.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I have a lot. Like I said before, I'm really new to writing. But I'd say writing the general atmosphere, the vibes. Sometimes I read fanfic and I want to write as good as those writers. I guess it takes time to improve.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Why not, I'm not against it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? No news here either. It's Supernatural.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Hard one again. I'd say Light touches, because that one just came to me as I saw the gif. I feels like I didn't write it, my hands did. That feeling was amazing. Plus it's soft and I love softness.

I loved answering this, though nobody tagged me. I'm an independent woman after all, so I took the liberty to do it, just because I wanted to. Now, let's tag:

@piscesapplelady35 @sasanka-27 hard to find writers among my mutuals but feel free to participate like I did. Also I'm trying something here, @xylodemon you are my favorite writer, I'd love to know your answers about those questions. Plus, when I answered question 17 I was referring to your writing.

Tagged by @mercurialkitty. Thanks! This was fun :-)

20 Questions for Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 59

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 645,479

3. What fandoms do you write for? Just Supernatural. I have the brainworms and they are in the shape of Thee One and Only Castiel.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

stay, In Just Saying It, Non Solum, Still Waters Run Deep, Sleeping Together

5. Do you respond to comments? Most of them. I do get kind of overwhelmed (with love and joy) if someone comments on all the chapters as they read, so I'll often reply to their final comment. And if the comments are rude, I ignore them (doesn't happen often, but it has).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Thee fic that started it all: Empty Spaces. A bold choice for my first posting, lol. At least I wrote a sequel? :-P

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Probably Something Blue. I wrapped that up with a bow. As a commenter wrote, "Holy happy ending, Batman!!!!!"

8. Do you get hate on fics? Mmmmm, not sure I'd call it hate but I did have a commenter who wasn't happy with the direction The Angel went in. Thankfully, they figured out the fic wasn't to their tastes and decided to leave halfway through.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yeah. It's fun to write but, whew, very difficult to edit, lol. As for what kind... somewhat-idealized- romantic-everyone-has-a-good-time-and-feels-their-feelings kind of smut, I think. Most of the time... Murder the World was a lot more angsty.

10. Do you write crossovers? Nah. I don't really have the fic bug for other fandoms.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yup! A couple in Russian and one in Chinese.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No. I don't know if I'd be able to. I don't think I'd be a very good partner :-P. I don't even like a beta to look at my stuff 'till the draft is done and I read it though a couple times.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? It's the DeanCas of it all.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? The Path of the Righteous Man (my reverse verse fic) is like, my white whale. I keep going back to it and never adding a single word. The block is strong on that one.

16. What are your writing strengths? Introspection and action. Both are sooooo fun.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue. UGH. Dialogue. How do people talk? Hell if I know.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Sure. My monolingual ass won't, though.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Posted? SPN. Written on loose leaf paper as a tiny child, which has been lost to the ages (thank goodness)? Final Fantasy VII.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? This is a mean, mean question. I cannot chose one! I cannot! So have a selection (answer subject to change in 30 seconds):

stay for being my fix it that allowed me to continue enjoying the show after that fiasco of an ending.

The Angel for being the fantasy epic I always wanted to write.

insi(de an)d outside for being some of my strongest writing.

Still Waters Run Deep for being my first bang and also because I have prints of the art reafre made and that still blows my mind.

Something Blue because it took me on a very personal journey (and also I just posted it so it's fresh in my mind).

I *could* probably post most of my fic, honesty. I like my stuff. I wrote them for me, after all.

Tagging: @angelcasendgame @hornystiel @wormstacheangel @bloodydeanwinchester if you so chose to participate!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey honey! Could I get an extremely wild NSFW with Daemon x Martell/dornish reader. Where she is extremely bold and has fame to rival his and at first she doesn't like him, but he is willing to do it She changes her mind about him (and he does) as they spend time together she ends up realizing he's not that bad, thus forming a solid friendship, but the sexual tension and mutual desire between them is extremely strong (almost palpable) then one night while they are spending quality +

Killing Me Softly

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

Summary: Daemon, as unopposed as he was to be forced into a marriage so that he would no longer disrupt the matters of the crown, he found himself wanting nothing else but to marry the Lady Martell

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: physically abusive!daemon, fem!reader, reader injures daemon, they're both really toxic to each other, literally opens with smut [daemon takes liberties with intoxicated reader, manhandling, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, vaginal penetration, name calling, pulling out, breeding kink], fuck buddies to/& enemies (to lovers ?), i describe reader's hair, i name reader's sister, idk asoiaf lore so I just made stuff up, typos, etc.

A/N: another day another 5K+ smut MINORS DNI. it's hard being a simp [sigh] i put the second part of your ask below the gif cos i wanna see matty's stupid face when i get notes lol, but dont be deceived by it his cutesy face, this fic aint cutesy at all RIP. ok so i did research about the martell fam and i found out they're referred to as prince/princess because of a Targaryen ancestor that comes along long after daemon's existence and i almost made her a princess BONK let's just pretend i know what im doing. i took liberties on your prompt btw anon, i found the idea of writing another enemies to lovers exhausting which was why it took a while for me to get back to you. i think it came out a lot darker and there's a lot of mind fuckery involved. i hope you still like it. Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda

Daemon grunts and grabs my brownish blonde hair, coiling the curls around his hand has he maneuvers my head back and forth.

"Just like that," he urges and I grip his thighs for dear life.

Daemon leans against the wall as his hips involuntarily thrust into me. It was nothing I couldn't handle, not when I was used to it, and his particularly selfish desires. However, even after all his brutalizations, my jaw still cannot keep up with him nor can my lungs.

I let out a muffled sound when he hits the back of my throat. I feel myself gag around him and tears water my eyes as it get harder to breathe. I try to pull away but he is too greedy with my mouth, and has me locked in his grip by my hair.

I pound on his thigh, and his eyes that he screwed shut finally open.

He pants as he pulls me off him. A string of saliva drips down from my lips and I look up at him in annoyance. My insult comes out strangled and hoarse, "selfish prick."

Daemon smirks as he watches me get to my feet. I wipe the wetness of my lips off. He grabs me, and pushes my chest up against the wall. His hands claw and bunch up my skirt as he breathes against my ear, "you act as though I do not reward you for your service."

His hands make their way to my dripping heat, and we both hiss when he begins his ministrations on me.

"Is it a reward if you're only paying me my dues for what you so desperately begged to get?" I mutter through strained breathing.

I lean against him and reach for his neck behind me.

He pushes me off, dragging me to the side up until I was leaning against the open window. He grabs my hair again, my hands instinctively dart to it. I moan when he slowly enters me. I hear him pant as he begins to thrust. He pushes my skirt farther up as to get a better hold on my hip, "maybe you should ask your devotees what they think?"

"Daemon," I groan in gratification as he rams into me.

He hums. His chest rises and falls before he chuckles, "they're not gonna hear who's fucking you good when they're not if you don't pipe up."

I squeal when he releases my hair and places all his vigor into the flicking of his hips. I dig my fingers into the stone opening for dear life, just as he digs into my sides. The pain of his grip intensifies the pleasure rising in my core.

"Daemon," I grunt, "yes, yes, harder!"

Daemon is half-amused, half-breathless, "needy bitch."

He does not disappoint though. As much as he takes, he gives back, if only to prove a point of his manhood.

I let out a struggled and broken cry when he lifts my torso up closer to him and slams into my sweet spot. My knees can barely keep my standing as my feet lift and crash from the ground. My arms helping to push me up begin to shake when I feel my orgasm near.

"Fuck," I drag out breathily, "I'm so fucking close, Daemon."

He grunts and gracelessly shoves me back down. Had my arms not already been out, I would have slammed my head into the fucking rock. I whimper in pain, but have no time to tell him off as I am busy chasing my high.

"COME ON!" he growls.

Three thrusts in then I'm coming all over him. I let out the loudest and lewdest sound I could muster. It hikes up and down in volume because of his pounding.

In the middle of it all, he pulls out and leans against me. He is still heavily catching breath when I stir beneath him and turn over. Once I am sitting on the sill, Daemon pushes between my legs and rests against me. I tense at his affection and push him away, giving him a stern look, "did you fucking come on my dress again?"

Daemon's features harden upon hearing this.

"This would be the fourth dress you've ruined, you vile cretin."

"It's not like you make sport of reusing your garments anyway."

"Because you keep staining them!" I quip.

He lets out an annoyed breath as he moves off me, roughly fixing himself in his trousers.

I roll my eyes at him and flatten my bunched skirt. Once I was all sorted out, I call out to both sides of the hall, "if anyone's there, you can pass now."

Daemon eyes me darkly as he finishes tying his breeches.

Just then, one of the younger maids squeak and hurriedly makes her way down the hall with her head hung low.

I release a sigh as I get to my feet twisting back to see the damage he's done on my burnt sienna dress.

"It's not that bad."

I see the blot on the fabric and groan in annoyance. "Not that bad?!" I seethe, shoving him on his chest.

Daemon still manages to find it in him to chuckle.

"Now I have to have someone wipe that off."

"Or," he reaches out to me, "we can go have a hot ba-"

I swat him away.

Daemon's expression changes drastically, "bitch."

"Addict," I spit.

"Hussy," he grabs my jaw.

"Dick," I shove him off me with so much force he is actually surprised when he shoots back, nails grazing my face in the process. With that, I scream my servant's name as I storm down the hall.

Daemon watches as the sound of heels clicking fills his ears.

It was a relief that I found Audrey quickly, and that she managed to remove the traces of the prince on my dress as I removed traces of him on my skin.

Once I looked like the lady I was, face painted, shiny hair styled just the way I like it, and not utterly fucked and manhandled, I make my way down to the festivities in our dining hall.

My lips curve up when I feel the room shift its attention to me when I walk in. I bask in the attention, rolling my shoulders back as I caress the large diamond on my sternum, drawing even more attention to the plunging neckline of my dress.

The crowd parts for me as I make it across the room, heading for the seat at the head of the table that was prepared for me. I pay no one regard as they nod and greet me. Why would I?

Halfway through, I see him rip through the crowd toward me. Daemon gives me a boyish grin and extends his hand out to me. I release a breath at the look upon his face and take his hand.

"Beloved," he mutters, eyes fixed on me as he places a kiss on the back of my hand.

I forfeit a response to his performance, but cannot withhold my surprised chuckle when he spins me around and pulls my back flush against his chest.

"Your servant is truly a miracle worker," he mutters against my ear.

I scoff at his words, knowing he saw missing stain on my skirt.

The crowd intently watches our display and I let out a genuine laugh when I pull away from him, "and you a truly a menace, my prince."

The two of us then make our way to our seats at the table. The moment we do, music begins to play and people head off to the center of the room to dance.

Daemon sits to my left, leaning back with an indifference to it all. He is bored of it, and was only here because I told him to be. He reaches his hand to my skirt from under the table. I let him draw shapes on me with this fingers. I could not care less.

I watch the people make merry before me. I watch them step and twirl to the sound of the music. I smile although my chest constricts as I recall a time in my life when I was as carefree as the atmosphere.

I turn to Daemon, bored still. He was the personification of my cynicism, the marker of my truth: I existed only for duty.

We both turn to my right when my name is called out.

And here she was, our youngest, my pretty sister; a beacon of light that reminded me everything I was no longer. I smiled at her as she went my side. She leans down to kiss my cheek and I offer her the same sentiment as she greets us both.

"Sister," she smiles, "Prince Daemon."

"Lady Castella," Daemon offers a small smile. His fingers continue to absentmindedly draw on me.

"I want to introduce someone to you," she inhales deeply as she pulls a grin on her face.

Two men then walk over to the table, and I instantly find some recognition of the old man. The sight of him makes my face contort in contempt.

"Sister," Castella lets out a breath as she extends her hand out, "Lord Michael Yronwood and his son, Lord Perros."

"The Ladies Martell," the balding man wags his wrinkly jowls then turns to the man beside me, "Prince Daemon Targaryen."

I scoff at his greeting and straighten myself up.

My sister stiffens beside me as I watch the boy great all of us individually.

"At least you have proper manners," I say to Perros as he raises his head up after bowing.

Daemon holds back his laugh.

Before I could remark at the stink eye the elder Yronwood was giving me, my sister catches my attention with her words, "this is the man I have been telling you about."

I turn to her in disbelief, "the Yronwood boy?"

Castella licks her pink lips before nibbling on it nervously.

I idly turn back to the thing that won my sister's favor. I take in his thick, dark hair, wondering when he will begin to bald like his father. I take in the broadness of his shoulders, wondering when he shall need a shabby cane as well. I take in the eagerness and restlessness of his expression and measure it against the sardonic expression of the old man beside him.

"Is it true that you write my sister poems?"

Perros freezes. His father beside him eyes him hotly.

We all look onto the man caught off guard and my patience quickly runs dry over his silence. I allow him a few more seconds, but he does not pipe up to even stutter like the lost child he is.

"Clearly he is too stupid to even utter a word to me," I turn to my sister.

"I beg your pardon," the boy's father quips as he leans on his cane.

"No," I raise my brows at him, "I will not pardon you, Lord Yronwood." I turn to my sister, "what has-"

"It is clear you cannot breed the whore out of someone, even with Martell seed," the geezer scoffs, "I should have your tongue for your insolence."

I turn to him with furrowed brows. My sister's jaw hangs low. Daemon shoots out of his chair, causing it to fall back with a thud and make the entire room go silent.

That is what it takes for him to realize his mistake. The hot glare of the prince renders his ugly face uncomfortable. He grabs his son by the arm, "I knew this was a mistake."

I hear my sister whimper beside me as Perros struggles against his father. He manages to pull away without injuring his raggedy hand and snaps at him, "What you did was a mistake. I love her, father!"

"Her mother is a whore!"

The sound of my laughter draws everyone's attention to me. Their eyes are blown, shocked, disturbed, and it amuses me further, excites me that my breath leaves me even quickly.

When my sister places a hand on my shoulder, a knowing gesture to my knowing actions, I swat her away and calm myself.

Daemon watches me, watches how my face ticks.

"Yes, oh you caught us," I utter as my breath evens out, "my mother was born, raised, and worked in a brothel before her hypnotizing cunt ensnared my poor daddy, the Lord Martell."

I raise my voice when the gremlin thinks to interrupt me, "AND YOU THINK TO LEAVE..." I lean against the table, "leave out the best part!" I smile, "she was a bastard of the Lannisters."

I chuckle again, flipping my golden hair back, "not that there's any proof to that," I tilt my head offering a wicked smile, "and yet, here you are. Under the roof of the late whore's home, submitting to her whore spawn because your son fell for the whore's daughter,"

I stand to my feet, "the Lady Castella of house fucking Martell."

I hear the shuffling of the guards from the side, who had been on edge ever since the music. I hear one of them call to me. I knew it was Aleksander, and I knew he was ready to kill for me.

I smirk.

The crows stirs.

The Yronwoods begin to stiffen in panic.

"You are outranked, outnumbered, and fucking ugly," I break into a laugh. I gesture upwards, "I am only now recalling why I am so pissed by the sight of your monstrosity. Were you not the same Yronwood that tried to marry off the same pawn to me not long ago?"

I turn to his son, breaking yet again into another laugh.

Daemon shifts in his spot, smiling to himself as he watches me on his side.

"And this was after you made issue of the charity I give the peasants. A farce, you said, to give back to the less fortunate."

"Perros," my sister's calls. My eye twitches at it. It cuts off my anger briefly. I narrow my eyes at the said man. How good could his dick be?

Michael Yronwood although rendered speechless, arrogantly kept his head high. His son, Perros, could do nothing but hang his head low in shame as my sister looked out to him.

I heave and feel anger rise at the sound of my sister's hushed cries. How dare these fucking gremlins cause her this distress, at one of our house's feasts, an occasion she adores, no less.

My lips twitch, "you should be glad I care about the less fortunate, because you are so clearly desperate for all these things that you lack: prestige, wealth, and face that is not so hideous to look at-"

Daemon could not hold back his chuckle.

"and so I will not have you quartered and hung in the town square."

The Yronwoods turn to me in shock. My sister pleads my name out, and it further fuels my anger.

"Perros," I call loudly turning to the boy, "I present you now two choices: you either leave my sister alone and keep your lovelorn poetry to yourself, or," I turn his father, "you can marry her in return for your father's head."

"You DARE," he raises his cane, "threaten my son in front of me!"

I giggle, "it is not a threat," then lunge at him to grab his cane.

He is jarred by my actions and nearly topples back when he pulls away. It is a shame his son keeps him upright.

"My word," I examine his family crest on the cane, "is law," I throw his cane behind me.

"You deranged wench!"

"Call me what you like, filth," I grin, "I am the first born of house Martell, betrothed to house Targaryen. Do you think anyone would defy me?"

"The prince will never wed your defiled cunt!"

"Father, that's enough!" Perros begs.

"He has not married you still because-" the old fuck cuts himself off when Daemon climbs over the table, kicking all the food down, and grabs him in his fury.

"You should have kept your tongue while my bride allowed you to keep it. Now I demand it," Daemon seethes, gripping the large oaf by his collar, before extending a hand out to his side, "we are awaiting the return of her father and brothers before we wed, but you would not understand honor or familial duty even after I cut your tongue out."

"Daemon, please," my sister begs, leaning against the table.

"HAND ME A FUCKING BLADE!"

Castella turns to me, gripping my arm tightly.

I cannot bring myself to turn to her as I command, "release him."

"No," Daemon seethes.

"RELEASE HIM!"

Daemon grinds his teeth as he grips the man's collar with both hands again. After, he shoves him off with much force. Again, much to his luck, his son keeps him upright. Had that not been the case, he would have surely fallen and cracked his skull.

I eye Castella and nearly falter at the sight of her tears. I clench my jae, "I have given my word."

She calls my name out, "please, do not-"

With that, I storm out of the place.

Daemon was too caught up in his own anger to realize this. He gives the order to haul the Yronwoods' arses out of the place, and by the time he notices my absence, it was too late.

Much like our routine, Daemon spends the rest of the day that fades into the night, looking for me. He searches In our estate, the establishments nearby, the places I frequent, and the places he has never seen me enter before. He finds me in the very place that I owed my existence to, the brothel my mother worked at.

Daemon could not even let relief wash up on him as he watches me grind up down on the guard I was relieving my angers on.

He rubs my sides as I push my tongue into his mouth.

I scream when I am pulled off him from my hair.

I am thrown off to the side. There is a sound of brawling. I look up and see my snogging partner grip his side in pain as he is hauled out of the place.

I get to my feet in time to witness Daemon shove the guy out the door. I heave as I grab a cup of ale. As he comes up to me, I finish downing whatever remained of it

I gulp the last of it when Daemon grabs the cup and throws it to the side, hissing at the smell of alcohol on me, "are you out of your fucking mind?"

I get on my toes and lean up at him, "yes."

He recoils at my breath and grabs my wrists when I reach out to him. The next thing I know, I am thrown over his shoulder and being hauled out myself.

It's a miracle I do not slip off him, or that the alcohol I consumed did not slip out of me.

Somehow, I am in my chambers.

Like clockwork, I head to the stored wine in my room and gracelessly intake it. Daemon catches it out of my grip and leaves me and my dress in a mess when it splashes all over the place.

I catch my breath as the red cascades all over me.

"What is wrong with you?" Daemon asks, as he pulls the now empty container from me. I grab the other one and run away to drink as much as I could. I barely get to drink any as the prince grabs it. He pulls away from me to empty its contents out the window.

I fight against him when he does so, and out of annoyance, he grabs me by the throat, making my hands dart to his grip.

He releases me when all the wine is wasted. He moves away to put the object back where I got it.

I groan and heave as I watch him walk away.

By the time I catch my breath, I storm towards him. "Stop using your fucking strength against me!" I screech. I lunge at him just as he turns. I manage to the glass he just placed back on the table.

I manage to hit him once on the nose but he he catches both my arms before I could injure him further.

Part of me is shocked when he begins to bleed, but another part is enticed by the way he licks the red off his lips.

Of course, he overpowers me. He brings my hands down in front of him and eyes me darkly. I whine out in pain at how roughly he was gripping me. I eventually release the container and it drops to the floor with a crashing sound.

He pushes me back, and I could do nothing against it.

I crash down on my bed, breathing taxed, I look up at him as he seals my hands beside my head. I am unable to move beneath his bodyweight.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hisses as his blonde hair falls down to my face.

I find myself laughing at his vexation, "you're awfully clueless for someone that was there."

His nostrils flare. Discomfort shots on his face because of his injury, "were you seriously affected by that vermin's words?"

I laugh harder. Daemon makes a face at the hot, alcohol laced breath that hits him. "Of course not."

"Then why?"

"See, the difference between you and I is that I actually know I'm a lunatic," I crane my neck up at him, "while you are wound up in your own self-righteousness."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I drop my head and close my eyes. Castella's face burns in my mind, "I just ruined my sister's life."

"No," he quips, loosening his grip when he feels me relax beneath him, "you saved her from marrying into a family of idiots."

Daemon measures my reaction before he pulls away from me. Tears continue to leave my shut eyes when I feel my shoes get pulled off me. I am too sad to care about how I am suddenly being hoisted up. Daemon has me lean against him when he peels me out of my dress.

He makes me sit up on my own. I open my eyes when he caresses my face.

He wipes my tears with his thumb while examining me for a moment. He then undoes the braids and accessories fashioned in my hair.

I fall back on the cushion when he is done. At this point he pulls my skirt down my legs.

My sobs are slightly ceased when I feel a damp towel get thrown at me.

"Wipe yourself down."

I don't. Why would I? I don't care. Where did he even get this?

Daemon returns to me, grumbling in High Valyrian as he takes the towel and wipes the red stains on my skin away.

I only realize he was changed out into his own sleeping attire when he puts me into my nightgown.

I look at him dumbly for a moment. It was as though I had forgotten everything that happened up until this moment. It was not farfetched after all. The candles in the room made his cut and inflamed nose look worse than what it was. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

I bring my hand to his face. He lets me.

He watches me silently.

More tears fall from my eyes, but I cannot bring myself to apologize. I don't even know if I feel sorry.

Daemon does not need it. He shifts on the bed and pulls me onto him when he leans back by the pillows on the headboard. I look at him and shift from my spot, moving to straddle his lap. He places his hands on my thighs as he watches me wipe my tears away.

I take a moment to calm myself. I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I feel Daemon relax beneath me. I feel him rub my thighs in comfort. It's enough for me to roll my hips on his.

He holds back as moan as he leans his head back.

The next moment, he hisses and holds me in place, "you will not remember it was I that fucked you in your state."

"Then tell me in the morning."

He says my name as though it was a warning.

"If you did not want me, then I would not be on your lap."

"And that's the problem, isn't it," he chides, throwing me down on the bed, spinning us around so that I was again under his mercy, "I want you. I want you every second of every day, and yet you do not want me back."

I am unremorseful of his words. I am stoic beneath him as I press my feet on the cushions, "and why would I want you?"

"Because you should be mine!" he mutters sharply, "-are mine. You are promised to marry me!"

I begin to feel exhaustion wrap around me. I close my eyes.

He grabs my head and pulls me close, "yet you insult me by readying yourself to the first man you say your eyes upon."

I am uninterested when I retort, "you only want me because I do not want you, Daemon," I wrap my arms around him and peel my eyes open, "but I do not want you to want me like that."

I wrap my legs around him and suck in a deep breath, "I want you to want me like Ezekiel, who begged at the gates for a mere glance of my face."

Daemon's jaw clenches.

"Like Allyrion, who you still have in locked in our prison but comes alive when I grace him with my presence," I whisper, "the Dalt brothers, Timothy and Bolton, who now despise each other because of how they both wanted to marry me. Rowan, who feels no regret, though you broke his arm after catching us fuck in this very room."

He heaves and attempts to pull away from me.

He drops my head and I grab his, pulling him close, "you want my fire, dragon, but you must scrape the skin on your knees begging for it like everyone else before you."

Daemon does not take kindly to this.

He never does.

He thinks he's so smart and scary but he doesn't realize that he plays into my desires as easily as his temper is triggered.

He leans back into me and shuffles with his clothing. "I'll make you show me how to beg," he seethes.

He was never one to shy from a fight, and in this moment, he was fighting both me and himself with every bit of him. The next second, he is ramming all his anger and frustrations into me.

I admit, it's truly a humbling experience to be at his mercy, helpless, unable to do anything that he will not allow. And yet as he breaks me, he helps me continuously break him the way I have been the moment I met him. I squeal out his name as my mind races with the thought.

He presses my hands beneath his. He is so rough and forceful I begin to slip upward because of his actions. He does not care, and only busies himself by losing his sanity over my wetness, my screams. But then it annoys him and he has no other choice but to pin me down by hips.

"Tell me who's fucking you like this?"

"Daemon," I obediently retort.

He hums as he maneuvers my legs, "and do you want me to stop?"

I whine gutturally, "no! Don't stop!"

His annoying and spiteful self does just that though, and leaves me in a panting mess as I look up at him.

"Beg for it."

I plan my timing carefully. I watch how he watches me, thinking he's in control. I reach out to his hands and lick my lips as I roll against him.

"BEG, I SAID."

"Daemon pleeeasssee," I whine as I roll my head back and arch my back.

"Louder."

"Daemon, please!"

"Louder!"

"DAEMON JUST FUCKING FUCK ME-" I rip out with a high pitched moan when he begins to thrust into me again. He leans down and begins to sink his face into neck as he continues his brutalization.

I let out unabashed cries of pleasure as he sucks on my skin. I dig my hands into the roots of his hair and call out his name like a sacred prayer.

"I will burn my seed into you," he threatens, "you will not escape me. I will fuck you over and over and over again until you're swollen and spent."

Daemon excites himself with the idea and picks up the pace, "your pretty cunt will bear me a strong Targaryen."

I picture the idea of carrying his blonde babe.

He tightens his hold on me.

"I will put a dragon in you," he mutters, pulling away to rest his forehead on mine, "and have us married at daybreak by the traditions of my house."

I whine at the building tension in my stomach.

Daemon lets his mind wander. Lets himself imagine his future, his children, his bride.

He closes his eyes and loses himself as he buries all his thoughts deep beneath him. He relishes the warmth, the softness, the readiness beneath his unforgiving force.

I catch my breath as I dig my teeth into his skin, absolutely ready to come undone before him. "Daemon," I whisper arduously.

That's all it takes for him to realize what he's doing.

Before either of us could even reach our highs, his pace begins to grow sloppy. I whimper at the loss and do not wait for him to quicken his pace again.

With a grunt, I roll him off me and find myself on top him.

I look down on him as I ride him. I lock his neck in my grip. He chokes at my harshness and I lick my teeth at the sight of him. I allow him the courtesy of a breath as I fuck myself on him. I knew he would not have it in him to stop me.

And just as I thought, he holds onto my hips and screws his eyes shut, basking in the feel of me.

I groan as I watch him, "come inside me, my dragon. Claim me like you have been dreaming."

Daemon digs his nails into my flesh. His final act of deviance. It is for naught. He is powerless against me.

And in the rare occasion, we both come at the same time. The feeling is overwhelming, mind melting, toe curling. It is the best fuck we've had in a while.

I do not relent against him. I milk both our reactions for all that I've got, and once I'm reeling, I allow myself to stay on top of him for a moment to catch my breath.

He opens his eyes when I pull away from him.

He thinks about what he said, his desires for his seed.

I think about how badly I want to wash myself down.

Daemon watches me as I head off to the bathroom. He's already cleaned up by the time I return.

He does not wake before dawn. He had been relishing the warmth in his arms. This was why when he opened his eyes and saw nothing but a ghost of who he laid with, he was awakened with bitterness and betrayal.

He is unkept when I see him in the courtyard. He did not fix his hair, did not wash his face, did not change out of his nightly attire. He stares at me as I am served breakfast.

"My prince," I smile, "might you join me for some food?"

Daemon looks at me for a moment, watches as I scold the maid for giving me the chipped tea cup that I absolutely despised.

I turn to him when he walks over to me.

One of the servants pull the chair out for him and I offer another smile. Daemon does not sit down when I tell the servants to prepare his preferred dish.

"Last night..."

I look at Daemon and knit my brows.

"What happened to your nose?" I question as grab his hand and make him sit down next to me. He does not resist. He does not pull away when I push his wild hair back. I move the chair closer to his. There is skidding sound because of it.

When he does not reply, I know my mind games are working. I braid his hair behind him when I repeat, "last night."

Daemon does not move. "I promised I would marry you at daybreak," he whispers.

"Did you?" I feign ignorance, "it's a little too late for that now though," I chuckle.

He grabs my hand, just as I managed to reach the ends of his long hair. I look at him.

My face does not betray me, but his does.

"Do you remember?" he mutters.

I purse my lips, "there is an ache in between my legs. I wished it was you because the moron came inside me."

He releases me and stands. He debates the sincerity of my words. He recounts all the other times I got drunk out of my mind, how he saw the blankness of my eyes when he recounted the activities we did when I was intoxicated.

He measures my current expression against that. He does not know if he wishes it were true or not.

I release a sigh, "do not hold my poor drunken memory against me now, all because you said you would marry me at daybreak."

Daemon clenches his fist, "forget the thought."

I quirk my brows at him.

"I will marry you in the traditions of my house in front of your father, in front of everyone."

I look at him. I look at his violet eyes and blink slowly, "alright."

That's all you could say?

The servant comes back holding the dish he enjoyed. I watch as the food is placed before him, "will you join me now, or would you like me to wait for you to get yourself sorted?"

Daemon feels his pulse quicken. His nostrils flair, "wait for me."

He does not see me nod as he immediately walks off.

When he returns, his entire body tingles at the sound of laughter.

Behold, your brothers have returned.

"Daemon!" I call, waving at him the moment I spot him. I have both my arms flung over the shoulders of my two younger brothers that came after me. The third one that was sitting on the chair I was sat on just a moment.

"Prince Daemon," one of them says.

"Or perhaps we should call him brother."

I roll my eyes, "he is not your brother."

"Well, he will be soon enough."

I shake my head as I watch Daemon come close, "come now. Your food is getting cold."

Daemon is acutely aware of the unintentional alienation he is put into. The brothers coddle their eldest and recount every detail of their trip without a pause, sparing nothing out of it.

He looks at his food and watches a fly that land on it.

Daemon would join this family, much sooner than he expected, and yet, he was no different to the fly on his food.

I catch his distraught expression and find myself smiling.

[genshingarbage]

Reacting To A First Boner Toward Their S/O Part 2. || One Shots ||

Helloooooo, this is the second part to the boys getting unwanted problems at bad times ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° ) naughty naughty~ You guys loved the first one i did which was just a random idea that popped into my head, so i hope this one entertains you just as much, thanks! - Mod Diluc

Kaeya

It was another casual day for Kaeya, skimming through paper work in his office and helping the lower ranks get their act together. He was beginning to find the life of a Favonius Knight rather boring, very little ever happened that required his attention sadly enough. But the one thing that did make his days more enjoyable and bearable at this point was getting to see you. Since you were a new recruit you leapt at the chance to work under the cavalry captain himself. All the tips and information you would receive would benefit you immensely in climbing the ranks!

He wouldn't admit it but he accepted you as his assistant purely because he thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on, that and the look of determination to succeed burning in your eyes. You reminded him somewhat of himself when he first started here so maybe he took pity on you for that reason alone, but either way he did not regret his choice, you made him smile everyday and helped cure his dire boredom.

"Y/N, have you finished the paperwork i gave you to complete yesterday?" He questioned you while you were sat at your desk writing away, you looked up at him with a frantic expression, you were rushed off your feet right now and so many people were relying you to you to get a lot of important stuff done in time. "The paperwork? Uh, uh, uh i- uh i think?" You stuttered all over the place and began to shuffle through all your work stacks, desperately trying to find what your captain was referring to.

Unknown to you however his arms were crossed with his hand softly pressed against his lips, chuckling softly under his breath, you looked so cute right now, so frantic and all over the place. But when he saw the worry set in you he grew somewhat concerned, he knew it would be hard for new recruits like it was for him but you seemed exceptionally worried. He took it upon himself to stroll round your desk and begin to scan through your paperwork. You stopped what you were doing to let him do as he pleased, he was the captain after all.

He narrowed his eyes after a few minutes of scanning and then sighed out in an exhausted manner, rubbing his nose bridge gently he then spoke out. "Why are you doing sub tasks for the alchemists and field researchers? You are under my training, meaning you're going into the military offence." He didn't wanna look jealous right now, but he was, you are his new recruit not theirs, your suppose to be just his, and his alone. You scrambled your brain while still breathing a little quickly, you were still trying to calm down from having ran around all over the place. "I uh, well i know sir, but i thought extra credit from the different placements would give me more credibility..."

He had to give it to you, you were very determined and hard working, but the others were taking advantage of you now and he did not approve of this. "Y/N, i am all for you trying to gain extra credit, but this? It's taking liberties and i am gonna have to have words with the others in charge of these factors." You looked down, behaving like a child being scolded by their father nodding softly. You didn't realise it but the way you were being so submissive and cute to him right now made something stir awake inside him, and it definitely made something else of his wake up too.

He coughed slightly to clear his throat a little, he was playing it smooth now but his pants were growing tighter by the second, it didn't help he insisted on wearing such tight pants all the time to show off his physique. He was regretting his fashion choice right now that was for sure, you timidly looked up to see your captain now looking away awkwardly, his hand against his lips again, he looked a bit uncomfortable if you were to try guess a descriptive word for it.

"Captain Kaeya are you... okay?" You spoke softly and tilted your head ever so slightly as you did, he glanced back to you before quickly casting his eyes elsewhere again, god you have no idea how your cute actions were driving him up the wall right now. He shook his head softly dismissing something in his head the moment it arose before turning back round to face yoi dead in your eyes, a soft smile spreading across his features. "Everything is fine Y/N. However I am going to go and have a word with the others about this whole ordeal."

He was at least half telling the truth, he was in fact going to speak to the others about rushing you off your feet- just after he's fixed this very unexpected and unwelcome problem that's grown very prominent under his pants. However you were unaware, feeling bad over the whole situation you spoke out "Sir, I am very sorry for causing more stress then necessary, I am more than happy to go and tell everyone I messed up thinking I could accept this amount of work and not you, its my problem after al-"

He then bent down swiftly to crouch into perfect eye level with your sitting frame, his finger and thumb softly grasping your chin as a very soft "Hush" slipped past his lips. You tensed in his grip, his presence was so strong and overwhelming, it made you blush faintly, it really didn't help his eyes were studying your every feature right before you. His look had a hint of... something in it, but you just couldn't put your finger on it. You didn't have enough time to try keep pondering anyway, he lifted back up and turned away heading out of the office rather quickly.

"Stay here, focus on the work I gave you, no one else's. I'll see this problem is dealt with do not worry." His voice grew faint as the door was being closed behind him, you hummed gently to yourself now alone in the silent office, odd, you never took the captain to be someone so willing to help fix your own hurried mistakes. But hey, maybe he really is more nicer than you give him credit for.

Meanwhile, in a dark and abandoned storage room down one of the many halls of the headquarters there occupies a certain calvary captain, breathing heavily while soft groans escape his lips. Kaeya was now using his hand to relieve the strain of his now throbbing member, he was really regretting having touched your chin and allowing himself to be captured in the trance of your beautiful eyes. He didn't wanna admit it, but this was more than just lust, he knew what it was, it was love.

"Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me... I will have you to myself, one day, you'll see just how much I love you."

Diluc

Diluc was behind his bar wiping it down and keeping the place clean like always, lately Angel's Share had been busier than usual, thanks to the crisis with Storm Terror finally being solved. Celebration was entitled of course. However even Diluc was becoming overwhelmed, so when you came by asking for part time work at his establishment he thanked the gods quietly in his head. You were very kind and understanding, and really easy to talk to, so he liked you more for that as well.

You were pouring drinks left right and centre, rushed off your feet trying to keep up with the onslaught of slurred orders, some customers seemed like they'd drank enough in your opinion but here they were dishing more mora out for refills. Diluc was going round the tables cleaning the mess and disregarded dirty mugs, leaving them stacked up in the small kitchen behind the bar, the place was beginning to look like a pig sty.

He kept glancing to you, for some reason he didn't like seeing you being put under so much pressure just to satisfy drunk fools. Alcohol was disgusting to him enough, but now seeing people demand it from such a kind and warm smiling face like yours just made him hate it worse. He gritted his teeth however and kept sweeping the floor and going about making sure the place was somewhat presentable.

"Here you go sir!" "Here's your drink ma'am!" "Sorry for the wait gentlemen!" You were on auto pilot now, apologising to every person you shakily gave the drinks too, you had begun sweating a good twenty minutes ago by now, your heart was racing, you didn't want to keep making the customers unhappy by having them wait but there were so many all cramping around shouting their orders at you, you were getting lost in it all.

"I asked for dandelion wine over fifteen minutes ago missy! This is awful service!" Oh no, you began to panic now, Diluc had been nice enough to give you a part time job here, you didn't wanna tarnish his good will by bringing bad reputation to his tavern. "I am so sorry sir, I'll get your drink ri-right away!" You'd even began to stutter now from how jumbled your brain was becoming with the rush and panic.

Turning away you scanned over all the bottles, there was actually not much left, your eyes were wide with shock, just how much were these townsfolk drinking?! However you found a bottle of dandelion wine hiding amongst the few that were left, grabbing it you turned back around and pulled out a clean mug, you swallowed down trying to keep focus, it was hard when so many voices were being thrown at you and the glares of impatient drunkards were getting heavier on you.

You kept letting your finger slip when trying to pop the cork off the bottle and everyone began getting louder and more rowdy, then finally-

Pop

The cork flung off, finally, however, the gods were against you this day, because the wine fizzed and than spat out of the bottle all over you, completely drenching your hair and shirt in its strong smelling liquid. Everyone went silent having witnessed your little show and you stood there in stunned and shamed silence, you felt your eyes sting from the pressure of tears wanting to spill, the hardship of today had finally caught up to your inner will and you was about to crack.

Could everyone please stop staring at you! For just a moment! You was about to give in and burst into tears when- "That's it. The night is over. Its closing time. Everyone leave." You blinked a few times having heard a familiar voice rise up in this moment of dead silence, the customers all turned round to see Diluc at the door of the tavern, holding it open, a look of sheer anger laid in his eyes now, not to mention, something else... but it was hard to tell.

Everyone mumbled confusingly before he spoke out again. "Everyone out. Now." His aura got scary and so the customers obliged, dog piling out the exit in minutes till there was but you and him left inside. He shut the door and locked it. Sighing deeply while faced away from you. Was he tired? You didn't know what to say right now. But you were also unaware of the fact he was trying to hold himself back right now. You were soaked through and through, and when he was watching you struggle to open that bottle while he was sweeping earlier his anger grew hotter toward the drunks.

His eyes widened when he'd seen the wine go all over you, and then had to choke back on his own breath and stifle his shocked expression when he saw your lacey red bra under your shirt clear as day, the wine had made your shirt very transparent, and he had never had an urge to drink alcohol, but right then he wanted to lick the droplets off your skin so badly. And when that indecent thought made its way into his mind he had given himself a growing problem, downstairs.

So now here he was faced away from your unsuspecting self, against the door, having to try forcibly calm himself down before turning to face you again. "Master Diluc... I'm... I'm so sorry for tonight, I messed up so badly, I really am so-" He turned round with a soft expression on now. Walking over to you till he was on the opposite side of the counter. He reached his hand out and over, closing the space between you both and softly petted your head. This small action was enough to have you blushing.

"Don't apologise Y/N. You were exemplary tonight. I've never seen the people of Mondstat so shameful before, they were all incredibly drunk, and alcohol can make you behave differently to how you'd normally be. You were put under a ton of pressure tonight and kept smiling and forcing through it. I'm more than proud with your service." He spoke with a tone of absolute. That there was no reason to try go against his appraisal. So you didn't.

You just smiled at him while blushing very deeply now. "Th-thank you sir! I'll uh- uhm... I'll get started on cleaning up the place." He cleared his throat softly and slowly nodded in approval. "Alright. I'll leave you in the tavern alone for a couple minutes okay? I have to go back out there and get the money some customers thought they could wiggle out of handing over." You chuckled softly to him, no one gets anything past Diluc that's for sure. With that he turned around and left you in the tavern by yourself, entrusting you with his establishment. You sure felt honoured right now, under his tough exterior there's actually a really kind gentle soul. And you've found that out tonight.

However, behind the tavern itself right now was a certain red hair pressing his back against it and groaning incoherent words while shamelessly stroking his own rather large and twitching member in his hands.

"Oh Y/N. Forgive me for my actions, but I am a man... and you've made me realise tonight how much I want you as my woman."

Albedo

"Albedo have you tried this theory yet?" You turned to face your teacher who was mixing liquids together like nobodies business. "Yes Y/N, the results were inconclusive, it was one of the first theories I practiced too." He muttered back in his monotone way, you hummed in deep thought turning back round crossing your theory off the list, tapping the pencil against the paper trying to conjure up new methods.

It was already late into the night, you'd grown use to this, even accustomed to his behaviour. You were just a young adventurer who had stumbled upon Mondstat during an exploration, and when you bumped into Albedo one morning and saw his beautiful sketch you had to get to know him. He was rather weird to talk to then just as he still is now. But who would've guessed he'd persuade you six weeks down the line to indulge in the findings of alchemy and become his under study at the Knights of Favonius headquarters with him.

He hadn't shown it but he was very intrigued with you, fascinated even, your way of thinking and acting, the way you conduct yourself, you were another mystery he wanted to figure out. But he didn't understand these other feelings and wants that swirled deep within him. But enough of that, back to the now, you're both here at gone midnight trying to complete another one of his crazy experiments. You enjoyed this alone time with him though, it gave you more insight to that odd brain of his.

However every theory you managed to come up with was immediately shot down by Albedo. Sayings he already done it or that it just wouldn't work anyway, it was hard to try be ahead on anything scientific with him. But you enjoyed trying to help him nonetheless, you really had no clue what ever went on inside that head of his anyway. You bent yourself over the table trying to stretch your arm out and grab some paper that had slid just out of normal reach. Little grunts and groans straining from you.

"Engh! .... hnnnghhh!" Your voice was starting to become a distraction to Albedo so he sighed deeply turning back round only to then have his eyes widen and his face go bright red. "Y/N... what... are...you...doing?" He tried to form the sentence clearly despite the blood leaving his brain and rushing somewhere else now, since his eyes were taking in a full sight of your silk pink panties under your skirt that was hiding very little from him in the position you were in right now. He had not spoken very loudly either, so you hadn't heard a word from his lips.

"The...paper...almoooosssstttt-" Your finger pressed against the paper and you flicked it over to you grabbing it and jumping up laughing. "Got it! Haha!" You turned it round and your eyes widened with a soft gasp escaping your lips. The theory on it was one by Albedo, that he had not yet tried, he must've forgotten to try this one in his hurried rushing. You narrowed your eyes scanning the words and doing a quick imaginative testing of the method and then smiled brightly.

All the words made sense and the theory looked like it was gonna be the correct one Albedo had been trying to get! You turned round excitedly, "Albedo look! I think I found the answer to your-" You blinked a few times, confused and concerned. You were alone. In the research lab. But... he was here just a second ago? Where did he go? You scanned the room and then hummed aloud to yourself. Tapping your chin softly trying to process what's happened.

You shrugged eventually and mentally gave up, knowing him hes ran off outside to find a certain flower or rock to help with the experiment, and you've already learnt by now it's better to just let him do his thing then try stop him. So you turned around to carry on writing more theories while keeping his forgotten one close to you at all times for when he returns.

But down the hallway in Albedos office, there he sat behind his desk, sweating profusely and looking like he'd just witnessed a murder. Tugging his hair gently at both sides trying to make sense of why his brain found it appropriate to give him a massive hard on when he faced you and saw you in that pose. He breathed hard through his nose before giving into his more primal urges, unzipping his pants and letting his member spring out fully erect.

Soft groaning and moans followed shortly after when his hand wrapped round himself and began to rub and stroke. He knew the difference between lust and love, he may be socially off key but he gets basic human feelings and motives.

"Mmph... it would seem I love you Y/N, so... how does one... engh- go about making you fall in love with me? This will... ah... require deeper testing..."

Childe

The sun was beaming down with all the heat it could possibly muster right now, which only further increased how sweaty you and your superior, Tartaglia, was becoming during your training session with him. You have been practicing with him day and night now desperately trying to improve your own skills and tactics, you really didn't think that Childe, one of thee Harbingers of the Fatui would agree to help such a lowly ranking member such as yourself.

It made no sense to you, but perfect sense to him, he liked you, a lot, nothing more to it, you were attractive, funny, cute, and you had such a burning passion to fight and grown stronger, it was something he really admired in anyone, it also didn't help that he spends most nights thinking about to the two of you alone together in a bedroom doing another form of 'fighting'. But here you both are, slashing and hacking at each other, one a hydro vision the other an electro vision user, together you made quite the stunning duo in terms of attack.

Electro charge was something fierce and not to be messy with or lazy either, several times now you have hurt yourself when both your elements clash during training and he has had to take you to get patched up. You hit it down with you being faulty and not controlled enough, he writes it down with you being more powerful than you realise with your vision. One way or another he always makes you smile and believe in yourself again, and that is one of the reasons your here, training till your a sweaty heaving mess with him, yet again.

The movement between you both was so quick and on point, both of you landing strikes with tight accuracy yet the other still managed to doge or block in a millisecond reaction. He was smiling the entire fight too, you had quickly come to realise how much he relishes fighting someone he finds worthy of being an opponent and seeing him enjoy it so much started to make you enjoy it more too. You found yourself regularly wanting to seek him out for another round of beating. You seemed to both feed each other exactly what you were looking for.

However today Childe must've been tired or something because his movements were very slowly becoming reckless and shabby, i guess sluggish was the best way to put it, he must've been rushed off his feet today with duties. But wrong, he was just struggling to focus fighting you and warding off his boner threatening to become more stubborn and visible due to his over controllable excitement on the matter at hand. Due to his sloppy responses he didn't realise it but he had left himself wide open for a fatal counter attack and you being the go-getter you are leapt right for it, it resulted in you knocking him down and pinning him to the ground with you above him.

Weapon pressed to his neck as heavy breathing reverberated from you both simultaneously, your eyes in shock as well as his before a smile broke out onto your face. "I did it! I finally managed to pin you!" You giggled like a student who finally passed their exam and he smiled sweetly up at you. You hadn't realised it but when you had him pinned for just a fleeting moment your eyes burned with powerful resolve and it made him swallow down hard. You were so sexy and cute to him right it was beyond control anymore, and so what happened next surprised you but just encumbered him.

You blushed hard and stopped all movement of celebration when you felt something hard pressing up against your clothed womanhood under your dress. Was that... is he? ...no way... You looked down at him with a bright red face and he was looking away with an extremely cute embarrassed face, that looked also somewhat shy. "Childe are you.. are you-" You yelped out of shock when you was suddenly forced off him in a hurried motion, landing your butt against the grass. Looking up at him as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck chuckling shakily.

He was trying to play it cool but it really was failing, specially since you could see a tent pitching in his tight trousers. He coughed loudly and turned away, "Well good training today Y/N, i am very impressed with your improvement. Keep up the good work, see you tomorrow." Before you could even mutter a word he ran off quite literally, he sprinted away so quick he was gone in seconds, the last thing you saw was his red scarf flow in the wind before disappearing behind a wall he jumped over.

You sat there, bewildered, what on earth had just... was he really actually... turned on? Did he actually find you... a simple low ranking member, attractive? No, you must've been imagining it... you had to of been... you stood up slowly, still trying to process all that took place before dusting yourself off and just very confusingly walking back to your place of tasks to complete for the day. You will ask him about this tomorrow, surely it was a misunderstanding, right?

Behind that wall that Childe leapt over though was himself pressed against it, his chest rising up and down as he panted softly beneath his own breaths, soft groans escaping him as he had barely waited to be out your eyesight before freeing his now painfully massive erection and tending to his needs rather heatedly, like an animal struck over by deep tugging urges. You were so sexy to him it was beginning to affect his fighting mobility, this was not good.

"Y/N god damn it look what you do to me... this is so unfair, you cannot be this way with me and expect me to keep going on okay, no, tomorrow i will show you just how bad you keep getting to me, you will be mine, you just will."

[honeytae]

I didn’t know you had a thing for bandanas.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIV! omg how do i even start...you’re not only one of my favorite people on this site but literally one of my favorite souls on this earth. you radiate warmth, wit, and yes...thottery :) so of course i had to write some grammys tae smut for you, right? of course i did. i love you so much, i hope you have a fabulous day and i’m sending you so so many hugs! happiest of birthdays to you @taetaespeaches, my sister wife, my twin flame, the best honey boy min enthusiast, my favorite wholesome thot! i love you i love you i love you <3

genre: smut (ofc)

warnings: GRAMMYS TAEHYUNG, suggestive texting mentions, tae’s a Tease™️, heavy petting and groping, grinding/dry humping, fingering, brief nipple play, there’s a handjob or two, unprotected sex (stay safe!), mild dirty talk and profanity, this is pretty much just filth i do apologize

word count: 2.7k

“Oh my god.” 

Huffing, you tossed your phone back onto the counter, staring back at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, lips parted in disbelief. You could not believe Taehyung, truly. He could be a tease, of course, but tonight he was on another level. 

The number of photos, that could only be described as none other than thirst traps, you’d been sent throughout the night was dizzying.

Spanning from the time he was getting ready for the Grammy’s red carpet to when he was backstage in that goddamn bandana for the Old Town Road performance, you’d already stashed them in a hidden folder, pulling them back up on your screen whenever your brain drifted to them again. Which, admittedly, had been a lot over the past few hours. 

Despite traveling overseas for the award ceremony together, you could not attend the show with him for obvious reasons. Truly, you didn’t mind. You weren’t about the glitz and glamour anyway; but fuck, he really wasn’t making it easy on you. 

In addition to the multiple professionally taken shots of your boyfriend at the show beginning to circulate, your texting conversation with him consisted of only attachment after attachment at this point, eyes practically bulging out of your head with each scroll of your thumb and hooking you in for more in his absence from your hotel room.

And that had been your only activity for the night until you decided to part from the television and get ready for bed. 

Groaning when your phone began buzzing repeatedly on the marble, you set the washcloth you’d been running over your face atop the surface, peeking at the screen and rolling your eyes when you saw your boyfriend’s name across the top of it.

Swiping your thumb across the flashing display, you lifted the phone to your ear, leaning your stomach against the counter as you mumbled a greeting. 

“Hey, why didn’t you respond?” He asked immediately, making you chuckle at his bluntness. 

“I’m still processing the information you’ve provided me with, Tae.” You responded, hearing the man’s deep chuckle reverberate through the device. 

“What information is that, love?” 

You could hear the amused teasing in his voice, smug grin prominent on his face as he awaited your reply. 

“The endless shirtless selfies, Taehyung. That is the information I’m referencing.” You said, thinking back on the several attachments you’d gotten notifications for over the course of the night, each time Taehyung was changing his outfit followed by a photo of him nearly naked in the mirror backstage.

“I thought they were tasteful.” He teased, giggling when you groaned on the other side of the call. 

“Biting your lip while gripping your bulge? Oh yeah, I’m sure Army’s would agree. Very tasteful.” You teased back, the man humming deeply.

“I don’t share those things with Army though, because those are for you only.” He smirked, you mirroring his hummed reply with a slight smile.

“When are you coming back?” You asked, tapping your fingernails against the surface beside the basin of the sink.

“We need to do one more interview, then we can leave.” He answered, a member of the staff speaking in the background followed by Hoseok’s laugh ringing out through the room.

You sighed in response, quiet enough that you thought he wouldn’t hear it. That thought was proven wrong almost immediately as he chuckled, the phone shuffling in his grip as the voices in the background turned to muffled noise. 

“What’s wrong, hm? Miss me?” He lowered his voice to presumably not be heard by others, his husky tone causing you to swallow a harsh gulp, thankful you weren’t video calling so you could play along with his little game.

“Mm, not particularly. I just wanted to play GTA with Kook.” You teased, smirking at Taehyung’s scoff, hairs raising on your arms as he chuckled into the phone and through your speaker.

“Alright. Well, you can expect Kook soon.” He said, tone smug as he heard the breath hitch in your throat. 

“Love you.” He murmured into the phone before abruptly hanging up, leaving you clutching your phone with a racing heart as you anticipated your boyfriends’ arrival. 

Trying to fight the now strengthened desire for your man, you blocked out the images from tonight along with the tone of his deep honeyed voice through the phone the best you could, reaching for your soap pump with a sigh. 

“Unbelievably rude.”

The silence of your room was awfully loud as you drew out the remaining steps of your skincare routine, hoping that if you took long enough then there would be less empty waiting time for your boyfriend. Your incredibly attractive boyfriend who you could not wait to get your hands on.

Your eyes continually darted to the timestamp on your lock screen, sighing each time as only a few minutes had passed since the last time you checked. 

If Taehyung could see how desperate you were acting right now, he’d surely have that god damn smirk on his face, one that would probably have your jeans unbutton themselves beyond your own control. 

Heaving another sigh, you distractedly stretched your neck from side to side, scrunching your face up in a grimace at the resulting snaps.

The closing of your eyes combined with the loud rush of water from the faucet seemed to drown out the sounds you’d eagerly been waiting for, nearly jumping out of your skin at the sudden addition of Taehyung next to you through the reflection of the mirror above the sink. 

His hair was still styled over that black and white patterned bandana, matching with the shirt that exposed just a touch of his bicep and a whole lot of his chest. 

Despite the immediate salivating of your tongue, you kept your shocked expression on your face, breathing out his name as you leaned a hand on the counter beside you. 

“Fuck, you scared me.” You placed your other hand over your heart, Taehyung grinning before reaching his arm out to pull you into his chest, pressing a kiss to each cheek before leaning back to smile at you.

“Sorry, love. Ended up leaving a little earlier.” He explained, smirking as your eyes glued to the bandana still tucked under the hair over his forehead. 

“Hm, I don’t mind.” You said, blowing a breath past your lips at the man’s appearance. 

“What?” Taehyung asked in reference to the action, his eyes blinking back at you as your hand traced over his long hair curled to perfection. 

“You look really fucking good right now. Not that I need to tell you that.” You mumbled distractedly, fixing the strip of fabric laying over the top of his forehead, Taehyung teasingly raising his eyebrows at you with a swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip.

“No, please do.” He said smugly, causing you to snap out of your lust-struck daze as you tapped at his shoulder with a snort.

“What an ass.” 

“That’s what I’m saying.” He responded, smoothly trailing his fingers down a bit lower to rest on your butt and gently grope the globes, pulling you flush to his chest as his darkened eyes held contact with yours. 

“Can you ever get your head out of the gutter?” You tried to say, gasps escaping every few words as he began pushing your hips into his, effectively grinding his erection into you.

“Hm,” he pretended to ponder for a moment, “with you, no.” He said, placing his hand on your jaw to pull you into a long-awaited kiss, soft yet sensual in the way he smoothed his lips over yours. 

Your breath caught in your throat as Taehyung’s hand slipped beneath the hem of your underwear, letting his thumb glide over your clit as his tongue invaded your mouth. 

The action was needy, as was the manner his fingers gathered the slick leaking between your folds to push up to fill your hole. Taehyung swallowed your moans as his fingers played in your pussy, his deep chuckles vibrating against you while his fingers dutifully pumped into your entrance. 

“Like that, baby?” He mumbled against your bottom lip, your mouth hanging open as you whined incoherently in response. He groaned at the spasming of your walls around his appendages, leaning his forehead against yours as he backed you up against the counter to stabilize your increasingly wobbly legs.

“God, you drive me crazy.” He grunted, rutting his hips into your thigh as you moaned his name once again. 

Squealing as he suddenly withdrew his hands from your underwear and lifted you up on the counter by your hips, you watched with raised brows as the man ripped your pajama bottoms and panties down your legs, easily tossing them onto the tile floor and leaving your lower half bare on the cold marble counter beside the sink. 

“Eager, are we?” You murmured, Taehyung smirking as he shuffled out of his pants, his boxers soon to follow as you took the liberty of removing his t-shirt from your torso. 

“And you aren’t?” He posed, taking the shirt from your hands and tossing it somewhere below him in the mess of clothes piling up beside his feet. Tugging you by the thighs, he smiled as you helped him by scooting to the edge of the counter, wrapping your arms around his neck as his own hands landed on your lower back.

“I didn’t say that.” You said, fingers tousling the fluffy hair at the crown of his head as he hummed, playing around with the clasp of your bra until it released with a small sound, the cups immediately releasing your breasts as he pulled the straps down your arms. 

“I consider it a good thing that we can’t keep our hands off each other.” He shrugged, gently prying your arms from around his neck to successfully remove the bra dangling from your wrists, pressing kisses to the pulse points of your wrists before laying them down in your lap as his hands instead landed on your breasts. 

You sighed as his thumbs easily circled your nipples, his eyes glued to your chest as he watched the buds twist into peaks with a small grin. 

“So pretty.” He whispered, making you blush as you distractedly reached for his dress shirt, snapping the buttons out of the holes in a haste to see his bare chest. The task proved to be difficult with Taehyung’s increasing pressure on your nipples, a knowing smirk on the man’s face as your pleading eyes desperately darted to his own. 

“Tae, this shirt is really testing my patience.” You sighed, the man chuckling as he reluctantly removed his hands from your chest to assist you in unbuttoning the shirt that had nearly killed you while watching him perform a couple of hours ago. 

As soon as he undid the fifth or sixth button down, your hands were on the revealed skin, feeling him like a madwoman as he lovingly chuckled at your actions. Tossing the loose material to the floor, he finally stood before you completely naked, placing a hand on the back of your head to guide you to his lips in yet another heated kiss.

Taehyung hummed deep in his throat as you reached down to pump his fully erect cock in your hand, taking the hint as you lined him up at your entrance with a push of your other hand on his shoulder. 

“Love you so much.” He mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut as he pushed his hips forward to sink into you, each inch providing you with a delicious burn as you let your head rest on his shoulder, his lips pressing a tender kiss to the side of your head as he finally fit himself snugly inside of you.

Starting off slow, he only slightly moved his cock back before pushing it in again, causing you to mewl as he started teasingly circling his hips inside of you. The grinding was nice, sure, but it gave you no real relief. Which he was perfectly aware of.

“Fuck me harder, Tae.” You whimpered out as he continued sensually grinding into you, taking your bottom lip into your mouth as he stopped his actions completely.

“Hm? What was that, love?” He cockily raised his brows at you, grinning at the look of pure frustration on your face.

“Fuck me harder. Taehyung.” You practically spat out, the man tutting at your tone.

“Where are your manners, love?” 

“Tae,” you whined, “please just fuck me.” You begged, Taehyung simpering as he picked up your calves, resting your legs in the crooks of his elbows to push your knees to your chest and effectively spread you wider for him. 

Picking up the pace of his thrusts, he groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing around his cock, praising you with a moan of your name as he tilted his head up toward the ceiling. 

With you leaning forward to kiss his jaw, Taehyung broke eye contact with the vent in the ceiling, instead focusing on you as he continued rolling his hips into yours. His eyes held yours with intense force, only faltering with a flutter of his eyelids when your walls began spasming around him.

“Shit, I love your pussy, baby.” He breathed, placing his lips back on yours when you responded with a wanton moan, placing his hands on your hips to glide you along his length in addition to the force he pounded into you with.

You whimpered at the sudden speed in which his hips slapped into yours along with the depths he managed to hit with the angle, clutching onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself as he groaned your name.

“Fuck, oh my god.” You cried as he sped up the pace of his hips, gradually working himself up into an almost inhumane speed as he quite literally attempted to split you open with his cock. His grunts punctuated each thrust, hot breaths fanning out onto your neck as he buried his face in your skin.  

“T-tae.” You stuttered as the tip of his cock repeatedly tapped at your cervix, Taehyung responding with a deep moan as he glanced down between your bodies, eyes glued to where you met over and over again as your walls tightened the hardest they had yet around him.

“Cum, baby.” He panted, lifting his eyes to watch your own squeeze shut with a gasp, the man himself falling over the edge at the sight. Nothing could ever get him off like watching you orgasm.

As he hastily pulled out of you, you whined at the sudden emptiness in your core, leaning your head back against the mirror in exhaustion as your droopy eyes watched him jerk his cock using your slick, only a few moments passing before translucent white liquid shot out from his tip and onto your stomach. 

Sitting up from the mirror, you fell into Taehyung’s arms, the man chuckling a bit as he rubbed his palm over your spine. 

“I love you.” He murmured, breaths finally evening out as he held you in his arms, your own loosely wrapped around his waist with your fingers caressing the skin of his hip.

“I love you too,” you leaned back to look at him, forehead pressing to his as you gave him a lazy smile, “and I’m so proud of you. You were amazing tonight.” You said, swiping his long bangs out of his eyes as he shyly grinned at you, his flustered reaction at your words causing you to giggle fondly. 

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you.” He admitted, misty eyes making you cup his cheeks as you pressed your lips to the plush skin on either side of his nose. 

“Of course you could have. You’re amazing Tae, don’t underestimate that.” You soothed, the man’s lips quirking up slightly as he tipped his chin to place his lips on yours. 

“Okay.” He whispered against your bottom lip, chuckling breathily when you began pressing feather-light kisses to his lips, exaggerating them with loud “muah”s making Taehyung’s eyes shut as he laughed. 

“You good?” You asked, his irises sparkling back at you as he nodded in confirmation.

“I’m great.” He said, reaching up to push his hair back off his forehead, the copious amounts of gel his stylists had put in his hair throughout the night defying the action and making it fall back onto the skin anyway.

“Good. Now clean your cum off my stomach, I wanna go to bed.”

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Obnoxious Couple | Stiles Stilinski

✦ pairing — Stiles Stilinski x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 1.3k

✦ request — Obviously the reader(female preferably) would be plus sized. Maybe, she’s having a bad day concerning her weight and image. And she compares herself to Lydia and Allison. So she wants comfort from Stiles but he’s not there atm so she takes in of his hoodies, which doesn’t fit correctly,and she gets frustrated and stiles walks in and sees her distress and then comforts her. Maybe end it with a minor make out sesh. But nothing beyond that?

✦ warnings — angst, self-esteem issues, some vagueness in an attempt to not trigger anybody’s dysmorphia, light fluff.

════════════════════════

Stiles found you crying at the foot of the bed, arms tangled in black fabric as sobs raked your body.

It wasn’t the first time he saw you cry, he knew it wouldn’t be the last either, but it didn’t hurt any less.

“Baby,” he softly spoke to get your attention.

You lifted your head, startled. Embarrassment washed over you, only making you sob harder.

He approached you slowly as though you were a hurt animal, frowning as he tried to figure out what you were wearing.

Crouching down, he hesitated as his hand trembled. He eventually placed it on your back.

You couldn’t stop crying — you didn’t know how you’d ever look at him in the eye and explain what was going on.

Your day started poorly, honestly. From the moment you made the mistake of looking at yourself in the mirror while attempting to get ready, you knew it would be one of those days.

It made you consider canceling plans with your friends which in hindsight you should have done.

But you didn’t. You sucked it up and met Allison and Lydia. You missed them, life often got in the way and you didn’t want to lose them just because you weren’t teenagers with free time anymore.

However, the moment you arrived at the meeting point, you knew how badly you had fucked up. They looked so pretty and so happy to see you — that should have been enough, and it was until you observed Allison was wearing her partner’s oversized t-shirt.

People weren’t supposed to feel like shit around their friends, even less when their friends had missed them and are glad to see them. So feeling like shit prompted you to feel guilty.

You knew it wasn’t completely rational, but you couldn’t help the way you felt.

You came up with an excuse to leave early. Allison and Lydia knew you were lying, but they let you be — you needed space.

You truly did, but you didn’t want to be alone. And when you felt like not being alone although it would be wiser, you always went to Stiles.

He wasn’t home. He didn’t tell you he’d be busy or what he’d do while you were out so everything you could do was wait.

Your shared bedroom felt too big without him and too small all at once.

Big. Big. Big. Big. Your brain wasn’t helping.

Comfort became a need as the minutes passed. You had always found Stiles’s scent comforting and seeing as he didn’t seem to be getting home soon, you took the liberty to pick a piece of clothing from his closet.

As you inhaled his scent, you remembered how good Allison looked in her partner’s clothes.

That was what lead you to cry on the bedroom floor, stuck in your boyfriend’s hoodie.

You knew the idea had been silly, he was smaller than you, but you had to try to fit in his clothes. You had always wanted to wear something of his.

“I just wish I could wear your clothes like my friends wear their partners’.” Admitting it was not only embarrassing but unbelievably sad.

You had never told him how you felt about sharing clothes so he wouldn’t get upset. What if he didn’t even want to wear yours?

“I know.” He rubbed your back in circles. “But their partners are bigger than me.”

“Well, your girlfriend is bigger than their girlfriends,” you bitterly answered. “And than you.”

He sighed heavily. “Did you expect me to change my body when I started dating you?”

“No.”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to change yours either. I’m not an asshole.” He made a pause then admitted, “I mean, I am, but not like that and not towards you.”

You attempted to huff a laugh, but your clogged nose didn’t let you.

He wiped your tears. “Let’s get you out of this thing and clean your pretty face.”

You lifted your arms, avoiding his face as you waited for him to get you unstuck from his hoodie.

Stiles tugged on the fabric and pulled the hoodie off you. “Oooh, is this new?” he asked, referring to your blouse.

You nodded.

“It’s pretty. You look good.” He threw the hoodie onto the bed and stood up. “You need help?”

“No. I’ll wash my face in the bathroom.”

You looked down at the sink as you stood in the bathroom. You felt stupid for crying over a hoodie that didn’t fit; clothes hadn’t fit you before and it had never hurt like this.

Cold water hit your skin and you reminded yourself to avoid the mirror as you lifted your head to dab your face dry.

What would Stiles think of you now? Would this make him realize he wanted to be with somebody who fit in his clothes?

It took you some courage to go back to the bedroom.

“Come here, baby.” Stiles patted the other side of the bed.

He had already changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. As you approached him, you observed the tv control was on his lap.

You sat with your back against the headboard. “What are you watching?”

“Nothing yet.”

You hummed.

“Hey.” He placed his hand on your thigh so you’d look at him. When you did, he said, “You can always talk to me when you have a bad day.”

“I know.” In fact, you often told him how you were feeling and why, but this particular thing was different. “It’s kinda embarrassing, though... I mean, it’s not something I can suddenly change, is it?”

“No,” he admitted. “I just don’t want you to go through that all by yourself.”

“Yeah, but you’ll tell me there’s nothing wrong with me or whatever and—“ You interrupted yourself.

“And what?”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to put it out there and manifest it or something.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, but it’s normal to feel bad sometimes.” He turned the TV off, shuffling on the bed to face you properly. “Look, I get insecure every time you hang out with your tall coworker, but you come home to me, so who cares?”

“Yeah, but come on! You fit in my clothes but I don’t fit in yours, it’s...”

“Cute?”

You glared at him.

“I think it’s cute,” he assured you. “Besides, you smell better than I do.”

“I like the way you smell.”

“You can wear other things I own. A scarf? I think you’d look beautiful in my yellow scarf.”

“That’s a nice scarf,” you conceded.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “We can also wear matching jackets or something if you want.”

“You hate it when people wear matching clothes.”

“Maybe it’s time we become an obnoxious couple.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Resting your head on his shoulder, you told him, “I think we’re already obnoxious.”

“How dare you?” he feigned offense. “We’re perfect, baby.”

“Whatever you say.”

He wiggled his shoulder so you’d lift your head.

You did so and gazed at him. “What?”

“Give me a kiss.”

You gave his lips a peck. Stiles frowned and reached over to take you by the face. He brought you onto him and captured your lips with his.

Kissing him back, you shifted so you wouldn’t hurt him or yourself. Stiles prodded your mouth open and deepened the kiss, holding you tight.

Once you parted, you rested your forehead on his. He smiled at you. “You know I love you, right? Like a lot?”

“I know.” You inhaled and exhaled softly. “I love you too. So much.”

“Mmhmm. I like hearing it.”

It was your time to smile.

As the day came to an end, the room got darker and although you didn’t know what time it was exactly, you knew many hours had passed since you left your friends.

“I should probably text Lydia and Allison...”

“Yeah, you should.” Stiles allowed you to move as he sat up. “Can I choose what we watch?”

You nodded before leaving the bed in search for your cellphone.

[doctorstethoscope]

The Whole Time || A. Hotchner x Fem!Reader

It’s @ssahotchswife ‘s soft hotch saturday again bitches. u know the drill. 

Summary: Aaron decides to make some happier memories in New York

Contains: fluff, alcohol consumption, law-breaking but not the kind anyone cares about, canon-typical descriptions of kidnapping, author taking creative liberties with the geography of New York City

word count: 1.7k

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when you watch the child you’d saved from an attempted kidnapping rush into his mother’s waiting arms. The most recent case had brought the team to New York City, for a kidnapping that was ultimately linked to a trafficking ring. You’d recovered a dozen kids of all ages, but Charlotte, the child you’d been called on the case for originally, was finally with her parents again, and you could rest, and rest easy, knowing that you’d saved them.

Spencer and JJ were already taking apart the team’s whiteboard in the conference room. Aaron was off making a call, and you spotted Derek and Emily fussing with the coffee pot in the NYPD’s break room. You started clearing off the table, preparing for your swift exit, and hopefully a night at home with Aaron and Jack. 

“Jet leaves tomorrow at 8AM.” Aaron announces when he enters the conference room. 

“We’re not leaving this afternoon?” JJ asked. 

“We had to shut the airports down to stop the unsubs. LaGuardia is a mess trying to get all of today’s rescheduled flights out, and it seemed better to give you all a day in the city than to sit on the tarmac for eight hours. But if you want me to call them back--” 

“Ah, ah, I think what JJ meant to say is first round on her tonight.” Morgan corrected and the team let out a laugh.

“Well, I for one, am overdue for some self care in the form of a little blue box.” Emily said, already pulling up walking directions to Tiffany’s. 

“Oh, can we go to Saks, too!” JJ asked, peering over Emily’s shoulder. 

You crossed the room to slide beside Aaron. The team knew that you were together, but for professionalism’s sake, you tried to make sure any local teams you worked with couldn’t tell, which meant you had to be very careful about your PDA.

“So… a day in New York, huh?” You looked up at him, and he smiled at you. 

“I think I’m just gonna take some time and work on my report so it’s done when we get in tomorrow. You should go shopping with the girls.” He tells you, and you squint up at him.

“You okay?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” he assures you with a little nod and a quirk of his brow that doesn’t leave you feeling very assured at all. 

“I know New York isn’t your favorite place. You don’t have a lot of happy memories here,” you understated. 

“Well, today’s not all that bad.” He winks at you. “Go shop. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you used the money your parents sent you for your birthday on Jack.” He narrows his eyes at you. 

“It’s all the same money once it gets into the account, babe. I don’t feel deprived of anything. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you went way overboard with my presents this year.” You remind him with a smirk. 

“No such thing,” he said, taking a risk and pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. The case was done now, anyways. “Have fun with the girls. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back. You’d better have more bags than you can carry.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” You rolled your eyes at him playfully as he gave you a gentle shove towards JJ and Emily. You took a couple steps over to where they were planning the rest of their afternoon. “Mind if I crash?” You asked. 

“We were planning on stealing you away from Hotch regardless of whether or not you asked, so this seems easier,” Emily tells you and you laugh. 

“I need coffee before we do anything. Real, not-police-station coffee.” JJ moans out, and you drag her out the door in the direction of the nearest Starbucks.

You’re headed back to the hotel after some shopping when Emily mentions a detour through Central Park. The air is warm, and contrary to Aaron’s orders, your bags aren’t all that heavy, so you’re happy to oblige her. You’re distracted, following JJ’s lead as you breathe in the smell of the flowers and appreciate the life of the city, the simplicity of all these people who have no clue about the international kidnapping scheme you and your team had taken down not even four hours ago. Emily and JJ come to a stop and you look between them. They gesture to a tree not far off from your path. Aaron’s underneath it, a blanket beneath him and a picnic basket on the ground beside him. He stands up and makes his way towards you.

“Did you two know about this?’ You ask, looking back and forth between Emily and JJ, betrayed but not at all angry. 

“He texted us and asked if we could covertly get you here, but other than that we knew nothing.” JJ assured you. You’re about to pressure Emily for more answers, but Aaron makes his way to you. 

“Hi angel,” He tells you, leaning in to kiss your cheek. 

“Hi.” You smile at him. “When did you have time to do all of this? You said you were working on your report.” 

He shrugged. “I lied. If you want to yell at me, I’ll allow it, but let’s not make Emily and JJ watch.” He teases.

You’d forgotten that they were even there. They both gave you hugs goodbye before taking off, and Aaron took your hand in his to lead you back to the blanket he’d set up on a slight hill, overlooking a bit of the park. 

“I figured it was time to make some happy memories in the city.” He tells you, beckoning you to sit. You do, scooting your way next to him so that your thighs were touching. He leans forward for the basket and procures a chilled bottle of white wine and a small package of red solo cups. 

“Aaron Hotchner, are you drinking in public?” You asked incredulously. 

“I figure the NYPD’ll give us a pass, just this once.” He says, uncorking the bottle and pouring modest glasses into two cups for you both.

You raised your glass to his. “To happier memories.” 

He connected his cup to your own but leaned in to kiss you before you could take a sip. “I love you,” he reminds you between kisses, and you smile. To anyone else in the park, especially from a distance, you two must have looked like crazy twenty-somethings freshly in love. Sometimes you felt like that, too. 

He pulls away from you, after a moment. “I love you.” You say, taking your free hand and wrapping it around Aaron’s arm, pulling him in and resting your head on his shoulder. 

He places a hand on your thigh and turns his head to leave a kiss on top of yours. “We don’t do this enough.” 

“No amount of time with you could ever be enough,” you concur. “But we get out as often as we can. We’re busy, Aaron, and we have a son.” 

His heart warmed when you referred to Jack as your own-- it wasn’t the first time you’d done it, not by a long shot, and he’d known even before you started calling him yours that you’d risk life and limb for him. So why hadn’t he asked you yet? Why hadn’t he pulled the ring out of his sock drawer and made it official?

“A son who I see you’ve spoiled, when I specifically told you to go shopping for yourself.” He teased you, changing the subject in his own brain and gesturing to the FAO Schwarz bag in your collection. 

“It’s just a couple comic books, Aaron. It’s reading material, it hardly counts as a gift.” You defended, knowing there was no need.

“Sure,” He chuckles at you, concealing his grin with a sip of wine. 

He pulls a small plate of cut fruit out of the basket, and you talk and eat and giggle and settle in to each other to watch the sunset. He’s leaning back against the tree, his legs spread so you can lean against his chest and sit between them, his arms wrapped around you from behind. The setting sun has allowed a slight chill to settle into the air, but the weight of his body wrapped around yours keeps you warm. 

“Aaron?” You ask, not daring to tear your eyes away from the cascading pinks and purples of the sky in front of you. 

“Hm?” He asks. 

“Do you think you’d want more?” You ask, internally cringing at your own vulnerability, hoping you hadn’t ruined an otherwise perfect evening.

“More wine?” He asked, unwrapping a hand from you to look for his cup. 

You let out a nervous little laugh. “No, hon. I, uh. I meant more kids. Sorry, didn’t mean to spring that on you, it was just on my mind. You don’t have to answer.” 

“Only if they’re yours,” he replies, and you’re confused. 

“Huh?” You ask. 

“I only want more kids if they’re yours.” He reiterates, craning to look at you a little. “Isn’t it obvious?” He asked. 

“Well, you know, it doesn’t hurt to hear, regardless.” You responded, a little breathless. You turned to face him. 

“Silly girl,” He smiled at you. “I only want you. I want you and our future together, and our babies, if we are to have any, and I want to keep making you smile for the rest of my life. And if I have that, I’ll be happy.” He states simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, as if he’d known it all along. He suspects that deep down, he has. 

“Sounds like a pretty good life you’ve dreamed up for yourself, there.” You smile at him, just happy to be included. 

“Yeah, I think so.” He agrees, giving you a squeeze. 

“You know, you’re gonna have to marry me before I let you knock me up,” you inform him with a laugh. 

“Working on it,” He tells you, and you roll your eyes. 

“Sure you are,” you counter, and he kisses your temple. 

“It’s coming when you least expect it. Like an action movie. You’d better watch out.” He whispers against you, and you laugh, the sound vibrating through your chest and warming him from the inside out. 

“You’re missing the sunset, silly boy.” You reminded him. 

He’d been looking at you the whole time, anyways. 

[uelden]

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano