#The irony of finally being able to finish these

[meatychunks]

I can finally come out of my semi-hiatus and start posting art again. Have these quick redraws from the leaked BTS photo shoots.

Originals for the first one undercut since it looked too crowded with them on.

[moonlight-prose]

the spilling of seeds & the eating of hearts

a/n: so this was posted to patreon in december and well i haven't done any writing as of late. so this is me just shoving an old fic into the open. there really isn't any explanation other than i watched saltburn and churned this out. did it take a year to finish? yes. ignore that. it gave me such a hard fucking reset. the movie is so horny i had no choice but to write din as a professor on his knees. the image literally wouldn't leave my head. but anyways thanks barry i guess for resetting my brain so hard i blacked out and wrote professor porn.

summary: if he could crack open his ribs and let you eat the seeds of his heart he would. he'd bend to your will without question, without hesitation, because it was you. the person he hungered for. the love he craved. you were the pomegranate forbidden to him for so long, and finally he was given a taste.

word count: 4.2k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader (professor au)

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, professor au, cannibalistic description of love, hades and persephone, the personification of hunger, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, wanting to drown in the pussy, din being tortured in the best way, they fuck nasty in this one people.

“I’m voracious for you.”

You could hear his voice even now, sitting in the middle of a room waiting for the accompanying professors in your department to deign you with their presence. The gruff rasp of his voice. The heaviness behind his words. They stuck cloyingly to the back of your throat as if he’d pressed them there with his tongue, smearing their meaning along your taste buds in the hopes that you’d understand his need.

The clock on the wall ticked away. Seconds, minutes, until you were ready to rip apart the mechanical springs and gears with your hands. Maybe then you’d be able to sit in silence. Process his words as they rolled around in your mind, pinging back and forth—dragging your attention to them each time.

“It never stops.”

Your teeth scraped against your bottom lip, tongue peeking out to wet the dry skin.

“This need.”

A trickle of heat spread between your thighs, spilling into your already soaked panties. You could practically picture him standing in front of you. His hands balled into fists so tight the skin of his knuckles turned pale; eyes darker than their normal chocolate brown. He looked like he was in pain, suffering from an agony you had caused—anguish that only you could get rid of.

A five minute conversation. That’s all he asked of you before you were due for your meeting. You figured he wanted to discuss the lecture he planned, the one you helped him with. Only for him to stand on the opposite side of the office, leaned against a desk, his hands gripping the edge. You were afraid it would break at one point. That is before he shared with you the thoughts that plagued his mind, the feeling he couldn’t claw out of his chest.

A quick glance at the clock told you waiting for them was pointless and that you’d be better off heading back to your office. Or at least attempt to stand without completely embarrassing yourself in the skirt you were wearing. His words continued to ring clear as a bell and you were addicted to their melody. You craved the essence of their cadence, how he looked unraveled at the thought of you.

“I feel like I’m going mad.”

The echo of your heels against the floor reverberated through you. Each step a different gunshot, inflicting a different wound. They reminded you of why the both of you stayed away from this temptation, why you chose to remain friendly all the while your insides were stained red. How long until everyone else saw that you were bleeding? How long until they noticed you were choking on it?

Your eyes snapped to the silver placard of his name at the front of his door. You almost laughed at the irony of them placing your offices across the hall from one another. As if you were meant to be tied together the moment you met. It didn’t help that you were completely taken by his grin that only pulled up half of his lips, the shine of his eyes as they caught sight of you for the first time.

The first time you stood in this spot you were nervous. For no other reason than it being your first day and you were one hundred percent sure the students would eat you for fucking breakfast. Having stage fright didn’t help.

Which led to him giving you tips, listening to your lessons when you needed help. Ultimately followed by dinners late at night, wine shared over jazz and blues and movies so old you could barely make out the picture at times. All of it was a recipe for disaster. A path that led nowhere else but here. But you had never laughed so hard, never felt so fucking alive before.

He’d woken up a part of you that hadn’t seen the light of day since you were in highschool. A bright light that still held an infinite amount of hopes and dreams and wondered if the world was actually scary…or if adults were just fucking with you.

Yet there you stood, hand raised to knock on his door, chest heaving with labored nervous breaths, and the realization that life was…terrifying.

But then the door swung open, his frazzled appearance showing before you, and suddenly life began to glow again. Just as it did before.

“I didn’t…” You dropped your hand, smoothing it against your skirt.

His eyes went wide, body straightening within seconds. “I was just coming to…”

“I’m sorry for leaving earlier. I didn’t mean–”

He stopped, allowing you to take a moment to gather your thoughts. It gave you a chance to finally see him like this. His hair was mussed, clothing in disarray. If you hadn’t been standing in this very office forty minutes ago you would have thought he’d been with someone. But the look in his eyes told you that was an impossibility; you’d driven him to the edge of breaking and he’d gladly go there again.

He stepped aside, holding the door open to let you pass by. A small shy grin appeared on his lips, prompting you forward—all in the hopes that you would take him up on his offer. The proximity of his warmth as you drew closer in order to enter nearly singed the hair off your arms. It was palpable enough to slice through, a burning flame that couldn’t be extinguished by mere words.

“Coffee?” he asked, running a hand through his hair to straighten himself up.

You found that you liked him better when he was messy.

“No thank you.” Unknowingly, you took the same spot as before, leaning against the edge of the table across from his desk. “I just came to sort out…what happened.”

He cleared his throat. “Of course.”

“We’re faculty and it wouldn’t exactly be breaking the rules, but I don’t want to make this a difficult space to be in.” You felt his eyes on you, could practically see them darken as you continued to speak—the words stuttered and fragmented.

“Why would it be difficult?”

The question was layered with longing. A feeling that strained against your heart, threatening to rip you apart if you chose to keep going down this path. You wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t be, that you had no intentions of letting him go, but the thought of losing him—even as a friend—broke you in two.

It made you a promise of heartache, a contract of grief and you had no choice but to sign.

You unknowingly signed the second he began the conversation earlier.

“You know why–”

He took a step forward, prompting you to squeeze yourself back against the table. Even as he remained so far away.

“I’d like you to explain it to me.”

That flare of heat broke free again, a wild spirit out in the open and you were terrified of what it would do. What harm it would cause. He however seemed curious to see how far you’d go to reign in a feeling that was so right. A longing that had a cure. He’d been burning for you for so long, begging for you to quench his need, but now that he stood before you…it was clear that he’d been wrong. He wasn’t the one to burn; he wasn’t the one who would be begging.

“Professor–”

“Don’t.” He startled you with how fast he reached you in a few steps. His hand reached out, fingers curling around your chin to tilt your head up, to make you look at him. “Don’t lock me out.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you wouldn’t keep pushing.”

He huffed. “Didn’t you hear me earlier?” His hand slid to curve around the back of your neck, the other coming up to hold your cheek. “I’ve lost all my power. I lost it the second you smiled at me. You’re fucking eating me alive and I like it.”

Sucking in a breath, you watched with wide eyes as he slid down your body, until his knees connected with the floor. Brown eyes overflowing with a pained yearning looked up at you, hands filled with reverence now pressed to your hips as he prostrated himself for you. To him…you were the altar he would pray at. The goddess he’d offer himself to. If he could crack his ribs open and let you eat the seeds of his heart he would. He’d bend to your will without question, without hesitation.

“Devour me whole,” he murmured, eyes pleading to give him something to live for. “You’ve eaten my heart baby…” You gasped when he maneuvered your hand to his hair, prompting you to curl your fingers around the soft locks. “Do you like how it tastes?”

You felt like you were in a dream state, unable to wake up. Yet you weren’t sure you ever wanted to. He looked at you like you were the human embodiment of light, the thing that would satiate his ravenous hunger. With a soft grunt, his forehead fell to your stomach, fingers gripping your hips tight enough to leave the skin tender. And you tugged on his hair to hear that sound again, giving into his need because you had a hunger of your own.

“Yes,” you breathed, too afraid that you’d wake up from whatever this was. “I do.”

A pained sound was muffled into your stomach, his body shuddering as your words washed over him. Nothing could have prepared him for your admission, for the truth to finally be set free after holding it in for so long. Pressing a kiss to your waist, he felt your body shift, legs widening in stance to give him space to kneel—to prompt him forward. A silent plea for more. A need he was more than happy to appease.

Another kiss was pressed to your thigh as his hands slid down to grasp at the fabric of your skirt. Pulling it up inch by inch, dragging it out until your nails were scraping along his scalp. He kissed every part he could see, every new piece of skin that was revealed in the hopes of permanently etching the touch of his lips against the bare skin of your thigh. He wanted you to remember him.

“Beautiful,” he said softly, mouth parting when he finally revealed the black lace of your panties. A dark stain was prominent on the fabric and he felt his stomach drop.

“You’re so wet.”

Heat flushed through your cheeks at the raw depravity in his voice. The way he stared at you felt borderline obscene, but a flicker of power seeped through, blinding you. Your hand dug into his hair, nails scraping along his scalp until you saw the shiver go down his spine; his eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan breaking through the haze of lust he was under. And you wanted to hear more.

You wanted to watch him break at your feet. Watch as his lips formed around the prayer of your name—the promise of more than just this. There remained an unspoken bond between the two of you. A force that could have rivaled the power of Zeus's lightning and Poseidon's tidal waves. You were burned into his skin like a brand and he wore it with conviction.

"Din," you murmured, watching as his eyes slid up to yours, dark with lust. "Break me."

He growled a punched out fuck, his hands quickly ripping your underwear down your legs until they pooled at your ankles. Part of you expected him to rush through this. Make you finish as fast as he could. But his eyes were trained on the sight before him—how the lips of your cunt practically glistened in the lamplight of his office. How you dripped down your thighs from a simple conversation that happened earlier.

A conversation where he never got to touch you.

"That's for me." He didn't say it as a question, or even an insinuation. He spoke as if he'd always known this. A truth that was acknowledged long before you ended up in this situation.

You were his.

Through the haze of lust and depravity that swept through you, you heard yourself agree. The word yes slipping off your tongue, sweeter than honey and just as sticky. He could taste it in the air. The ache that ate at him with a hunger he’d never felt before. You made his body scream, his cock a mess in the suit pants pressed so neatly before seeing you like this—spread out and panting for his touch to continue past your thighs.

“Din,” you whimpered it softly, eyes fluttering at the feel of his mouth on your skin, and he felt desire burn through the nerves and tendons of each limb.

Yanking the skirt higher, he latched his teeth onto the tender flesh of your thigh, grinning like a wolf with a mouth coated in blood at your cry. Your body curled inwards, legs involuntarily spreading at the soft caress of his tongue. He could see the indent of his teeth. Ridged and deep and a bruising grip of starvation that would stick for days.

“Let me,” he muttered. “I need to.”

You gasped, eyes wrenching open to see his gaze latched onto the slick that coated your thighs with a sticky cream that made his mouth water. Nodding frantically, you felt the pull of his very essence drag you in. Molding you to take whatever form he craved. You were the clay he dipped his fingers into, the water he used to shape your body around his.

The hot slide of his tongue through your folds caused your knees to buckle—body leaning against the table with a heady wet sob of his name. He moaned into you, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers dug into your thighs—spreading you wide enough to encompass the width of his shoulders. Pleasure stung each nerve, slicing down your spine with a desperation that had your hips grinding down along his open mouth.

An insatiable need for more grasping onto the reigns of sense and reason.

“F-Fuck,” you moaned, unashamedly dragging your cunt across his wet and waiting mouth.

A cracked groan was all he offered in return. His lips sealing around your pulsing clit hard enough for your back to arch—nails digging into his scalp hard enough to rip out the soft curls you gripped. Spit smeared along your thighs, your slick pouring along the length of his throat. You wanted to lick it off, to push it back into his plush mouth and taste it off his tongue. Another harsh suck dragged a sharp cry of his name past your parted lips.

“Fuck I’m gonna–” Your eyes rolled back as he pressed a thick finger past your entrance, the pad of it curling along the tight grip of your walls. “Baby please.”

The shudder that ran down his spine at the ragged wailing plea nearly threw you over the edge. Brown eyes glazed with an unhinged fervor of a man starved met your half lidded ones. His gaze pierced right through your psyche—reading your thoughts as if they were tangible enough to flip through. And you let him.

You gave into the darkened glint that beckoned you towards bliss.

Another finger fit snugly beside his first, pressing up against the spongy patch you could barely reach on your own. Your mouth dropped open, a panting echo of his name spilling out into the air. It felt too much. A depth of sensations you’d never reached before. But you still held him close, fucking yourself against the mouth that promised you more—the tongue that traced your clit in letters forming a single three letter word.

Din.

The scrape of his teeth sent you over with a muffled shout—your hand slapping over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. Having a professor barge in to see if anything was awry would be too much for either of you to handle. It would ruin your reputation—dragging him down right along with you. You knew the consequences, knew the forbidden nature of this tantalizing fruit. Yet you bit into it anyways.

Din buried himself in you, eyes sliding shut as you soaked his awaiting mouth that sucked at your entrance with a throaty moan. A sound that wrapped tight around your spine—gripping where he couldn’t reach.

“Can’t fucking get enough,” he grunted, rising to his full height—fingers curling around your throat gently. “You taste good.”

His pupils were blown wide, devouring molton brown with a feral hunger you felt settle in your own veins. He wanted to consume you. Bind your soul to his without a single thought about the consequences this relationship would incur. The university would frown on their favorite professor entertaining the young new staff member who would happily fall to their knees for him.

The pink swipe of your tongue caught his attention, his eyes zeroing in on the wet slide of saliva you left behind. Gripping you tighter, he pulled you close with a rough groan—lips catching yours in a blistering kiss. It didn’t build slowly, unraveling months of tension, moments of unfathomable longing you could barely handle on your own. It scorched you to your very core. Laying waste to the stability you clung to, the sanity you relied on.

“I need you,” the words spilled into his open mouth—digging deep enough to rattle his bones. “Inside. I-I need–”

He shushed you gently, licking hotly along your bottom lip—his hands dropping to the brown leather belt you eyed earlier. The clink of the buckle destroyed you, a needy whine crawling up and out of your throat. This was your damning moment, the path split down the center and building something new. Smiling into the kiss, he shucked his pants down—cock straining against the boxers sporting a wet patch of precum.

“Up,” he demanded, tapping your thigh.

You clambered onto the table with his hands on your hips—legs spreading to accommodate his size. Pleading words lay on the tip of your tongue, but his mouth was quick to silence them. A kiss of reverence stole your breath while he freed himself with a gasp—pumping his leaking cock and sliding through your dripping folds. Coating his length with what already stained his chin.

With eyes closed and fingers lost in his curls, you gave yourself over to the sensory deprivation of the situation. Your hips canted up, clit catching on the prominent vein that throbbed with need. He pushed a moan along the back of your teeth, stretching your walls slow enough to draw you to the edge of madness.

“There’s no part of me–” The words were carried with a sharp breath and teeth scraping your ear. “That isn’t yours.”

Your walls fluttered at his words—in utter ruin from the sound of his soft rasp echoing sweetly in your ear. The pomegranate seeds lay delicately on your tongue, enticing you to close your jaws around their tart flavor. A permanent agreement of devotion stuck at the back of your throat as he pummeled into your cunt with broken grunts and soft moans. You swallowed them without a second thought, clinging to his back and muffling what sounds he drew out into his neck.

The thrust of him plunging into you felt exquisite. Each one sharp and hungry. He was a man uninhibited by the doubts that swirled in your mind. Possessed by need, held captive by your scent—your taste that still plagued his senses. You were inside his bones. A spell bound into the tendons and ligaments of his broad body to keep him tied to you permanently.

Forever bound by far more than you could comprehend at this moment.

“Yours,” you whimpered, feeling a tight grip on the back of your neck pull your head back slightly—lips finding yours as he pounded up into you. “‘S all yours Din. I’m yours.”

The muffled moan he pressed into your mouth echoed in your own chest. It said all that would go unsaid for now. The emotions you kept hidden in the casket of your heart, ready to die with them before revealing how much you longed for him. All the innocent glances, lingering touches, each time he showed up in your office for lunch or simply to walk you home.

You thought you buried it.

Never to be revived.

Until he poured himself into your lungs without mercy—consumed you with a smile coated in the thick shine of your release. He destroyed himself at your altar, pledged himself on his knees. Your lover, the other half of your misshapen heart.

“You want to cum?” he growled, grinding into you hard enough to have white flashing behind your tightly shut eyes. “Can feel you soaking me baby.”

Fighting for a lungful of air, you dared to meet his burning gaze. “Uh-huh.”

A smile curled along swollen and bruised lips. “She’s begging for it. My pretty girl’s all wet for me.”

Through the bliss you could hear it, the push and pull of his body against yours, his cock coated in your slick. It echoed loud enough to make your ears burn—your skin already hot to the touch as he dug his fingers wherever he could reach. You were dripping for him, making a mess on his slacks that would later stain, but he didn’t care. That was the last thing on his mind when he had you in his arms, mewling into his ear with pleading words of more.

The words were drowned out by the echo of skin against skin—a soft breath that punctured his chest. “I-I want to.” 

“I know,” he cooed, thumb digging into your bottom lip. “C’mon then baby. Soak me yeah? Give me a mess to clean up.”

Your mouth dropped, eyes rolling back into the mind he emptied with each punch to your walls—rubbing against heaven. Eventually in your life you knew you would break. Shatter like glass against concrete, but this felt as if every bone was fractured. Every nerve cauterized and muscle torn to shreds. You were left to float along the River Styx, the soul he stripped from your body now held in his grasp—kept as a memory of his emotions.

Sobbing a splintered version of his name, you trembled in his hold, his cock ramming into you with harsh bitten out grunts he muffled into the crook of your neck. Your walls clamped down, a splatter of your release coating the sticky skin of your inner thighs. He cried out as if you burned right down to his core—his fingers a bruising hold on your hips, teeth hooking into the tender flesh of your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spilling into you with a rumbling noise that sprouted from his chest.

“I didn’t–” Fighting the haze in your severed mind you felt his hand slide along your stomach, dropping low enough to slide through the mixture of your cum. “I’ve never…”

The audible echo of him sucking his fingers into his mouth with a moan cut off anything else you planned to say. Whatever explanation you hoped to conjure in a mind still coming back down vanished at the sight of him feasting on the mess he longed for. An offering of more to come now cooling on your shaky thighs.

“Delicious,” he murmured, scooping more and spreading it along the twitching clit still begging for attention. You gasped as he brought it to your tongue, letting you suckle it off with a whine. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

Catching his gaze through your lashes, you let his fingers slip from the hot cavern of your mouth—the taste of him a craving you needed again. “In a bed next time.”

His cock stirred, large hands grasping your hips. “Next time huh?”

“I could be persuaded.”

Lips sought yours with a throaty call of your name. You dragged him closer—pressing your knees into his sides—and he came willingly. As if the tie that held you together knotted tighter the longer you basked in each other’s silent promises of more. Whether or not it would last was of no concern to you. His touch was gentle along your skin, tongue hot and coveted tangled with yours.

“Let me persuade you,” he breathed.

Catching his bottom lip with your teeth, you curled an arm around his neck. “You already have.”

“Interesting.” His grin felt electric against your cheek, a piece of him come back to life with the prospect of more. “I must have a gift.”

“Mm yes.” You met his smile with one of your own. “Your tongue is a skillful asset.”

“Just my tongue?”

“Well…”

Laughter shouldn’t have stolen your breath the way his did—deep and filled with a rasp you felt rocket down your spine. “Tonight?”

Suddenly what should have been a one off moment of sporadic lust grew to be much more. You knew coming here would result in something neither of you could take back. A vow unspoken between two people who shouldn’t want more, yet were unable to ask for anything less. He was tied to you from that first day—a brief greeting between two passing ships. It was only a matter of time until eventually…you collided.

“I’d really like that,” you admitted, sealing your fate in hot wax carved with his initials.

He kissed you slowly, drinking down the soft breathy moan that clawed up your throat—a future clasped between hearts that finally beat in tune. “I would too.”

[muiitoloko]

Would you be able to do a Severus Snape story. One where his girlfriend is nervous about having sex with him, as she still suffers from issues she suffered at the hands of a man who thought cared about her but just wanted to abuse her. Severus completely understands and never pressures her, she tells him she finally wants to have sex with him and he takes his time with her and is gently with her due her abuser being a sadist when it came to sex and not preparing her enough. Then after they have made love, he cuddles up with her which is a foreign concept to her as her abuser just use to shove her clothes into her arms after he was finished. Severus telling her how beautiful she is, as her abuser also belittled her about her body.

if you aren’t comfortable with this idea, it is fine if you choose not to write this idea.

Title: Alchemy of the Heart

Summary: A story of transformation and healing, where Severus Snape learns that love, like magic, can mend even the most broken of souls.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request! 🫶

Also read on Ao3

Severus Snape never thought he would find himself in such a situation—dating a Muggle, living a life that was so mundanely normal after everything he had endured. He scoffed at the absurdity of it all as he moved about the small kitchen in his modest home at Spinner's End, preparing dinner for himself and you, the woman who had somehow wormed her way into his life, despite his best efforts to keep everyone at arm’s length.

The irony was not lost on him. He, Severus Snape, a man who had spent his entire adult life hiding behind shadows and secrets, was now standing over a stove, chopping vegetables for a Muggle dish he barely knew how to make. He was a man who had survived the war, against all odds, only to be pulled back from the brink of death by none other than Harry bloody Potter. That particular twist of fate still rankled him. Potter had used the Elder Wand to heal the wounds inflicted by Nagini, saving his life and subsequently fighting to free him from Azkaban, where he had been imprisoned for a year. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing he owed his life and freedom to the very boy he had spent years despising.

Snape grimaced as he remembered the cold, damp cells of Azkaban, the Dementors draining every ounce of warmth and hope from him, leaving only a hollow shell behind. He had resigned himself to that fate, ready to be forgotten, to fade into obscurity. But Potter had other plans, of course. The boy who lived, the boy who couldn’t leave well enough alone.

And now, here he was, living in his old childhood home, the memories of his past haunting every corner, every shadow. But there was one new element in his life, something—or rather someone—who had become an unexpected comfort in this bleak existence. You.

He had first noticed you a few weeks after his release, moving into the house next door with your belongings piled into an old, beat-up car. You were a breath of fresh air in the stale, suffocating environment of Spinner’s End. Snape had tried to scare you off at first, his usual acerbic demeanor and cutting remarks meant to keep you at a distance. But you were persistent, infuriatingly so. You would knock on his door with some trivial request—a cup of sugar, a light for your stove, a missing ingredient for dinner. And every time, despite himself, Snape would begrudgingly oblige, always with a scowl and a sarcastic remark.

But you kept coming back. No matter how cold or curt he was, you would return, flashing that infuriatingly bright smile, your eyes sparkling with a warmth that he hadn’t known in years. Slowly, despite his best efforts, Snape found himself softening towards you, your presence becoming a constant, a fixture in his life that he didn’t entirely hate.

It had started as a reluctant friendship—if he could even call it that—exchanging a few words here and there, discussing the weather or some mundane topic. But then, one evening, you had invited him over for dinner. He had almost declined, the words on the tip of his tongue, but something in your eyes, a quiet loneliness, made him change his mind. And that night, as you both sat in your small, cozy kitchen, sharing a simple meal, Snape felt something shift between you. It was subtle, a barely noticeable change in the air, but it was there, and he knew you felt it too.

From that moment on, things were different. The awkwardness that had always lingered between you seemed to dissipate, replaced by a quiet understanding, a comfort in each other’s presence that neither of you could deny. The dinners became more frequent, the conversations more personal, and before long, those moments spent together turned into something more.

The first time you kissed him, it was hesitant, a brief brush of lips that left him reeling. He had pulled back, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, of regret. But all he saw was warmth, acceptance, and something deeper—something he hadn’t felt in years. And so, he had kissed you again, this time with more conviction, more certainty, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, tasting the sweetness of your lips.

But even as things between you grew more intimate, there was always a hesitance on your part, a reluctance to let things progress beyond those heated kisses, those moments of passion that left you both breathless. Snape had tried to be patient, tried to respect your boundaries, but there were times when he couldn’t help the frustration that simmered just beneath the surface.

It wasn’t until one night, after another round of heated kisses that left you both wanting more, that Snape’s patience finally wore thin. He had used Legilimency on you, a skill he had honed to perfection over the years, and what he saw left him reeling. Memories of your past, of a relationship that had been toxic, abusive, of a man who had used your body, your trust, against you. It made Snape’s blood boil with rage, a fury that he hadn’t felt in years, directed not at you but at the man who had hurt you.

He had pulled back immediately, ashamed of what he had done, of the intrusion, but he couldn’t erase the memories from his mind. He couldn’t forget the pain in your eyes, the fear that had lingered just beneath the surface, even as you tried to move on, to find happiness with him.

So he kept it to himself, burying the knowledge deep within, refusing to let it taint what was growing between you. He would wait, he decided. He would wait until you were ready to tell him, until you trusted him enough to open up, to share your past with him.

And then, one evening, as you both sat on his old, worn sofa, your head resting on his shoulder, you had finally told him. The words had tumbled out in a rush, your voice trembling with fear and uncertainty, and Snape had listened, his heart aching with every word. When you had finished, he had wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his lips brushing against your hair as he whispered words of comfort, of reassurance.

"Thank you for telling me," he had murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. "You’re safe with me, always."

And that night, as you lay in his arms, Snape had made a silent vow to himself. He would never hurt you, never push you beyond what you were comfortable with. He would wait, as long as it took, until you were ready.

Now, as he stirred the pot of soup simmering on the stove, Snape couldn’t help but think back to that night, to the way you had looked at him with such trust, such vulnerability. It made his heart clench in a way that he wasn’t used to, a feeling that he had tried to bury for years but that now resurfaced with a vengeance.

You had come into his life like a force of nature, breaking down the walls he had built around himself, forcing him to confront emotions that he had long since buried. And while part of him resented it, resented the way you had made him feel again, another part of him—the part he tried to ignore—was grateful.

He heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind him and turned to see you standing in the doorway, your eyes bright with affection as you watched him cook. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him at the sight of you, so full of life, so full of light.

"You’re cooking," you said, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and delight as you stepped into the kitchen, your hands coming to rest on the counter as you leaned against it, watching him with those warm, trusting eyes.

"Don’t sound so shocked," Snape replied, his tone dry but not unkind as he turned back to the stove, giving the soup another stir. "I am capable of preparing a meal, despite what you may think."

You chuckled softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. "I never doubted it," you said, your voice light and teasing as you stepped closer, your hands resting on his shoulders as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "But I’m still impressed."

Snape felt a warmth spread through him at your touch, your lips against his skin sending a wave of heat coursing through his body. He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the warmth of your gaze, the affection that shone in your eyes.

But then, as quickly as it had come, the moment was gone, and Snape turned back to the stove, his hands tightening on the spoon as he stirred the soup with more force than necessary. He couldn’t allow himself to get too comfortable, to let his guard down. There was still so much you didn’t know about him, so much he was keeping from you.

You didn’t know that the man you were dating was not just a simple recluse living in a small, forgotten town. You didn’t know that the man you had trusted with your secrets, with your heart, was a wizard, a man who had fought in a war that had left deep scars on his soul. You didn’t know that the man you had chosen to love was capable of things that would terrify most people.

And as much as Snape wanted to keep it that way, to keep you safe from the darkness that had consumed so much of his life, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the truth came out. He could only hope that when it did, you would still look at him with the same warmth, the same affection that you did now.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand—preparing a simple meal for the woman who had become the light in his dark, shadowed world. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to offer.

You moved closer to him, your body pressing against his as you wrapped your arms around his waist, your head resting on his shoulder as you watched him cook. Snape stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he allowed himself to relax into your embrace, the warmth of your body seeping into his own, calming the storm of thoughts that constantly swirled in his mind.

"Thank you, Sev," you murmured, your voice soft and sincere as you pressed another kiss to his shoulder, your lips lingering against the fabric of his shirt. "For everything."

Snape swallowed hard, his throat tightening at the sound of your voice, the sincerity in your words. He wasn’t used to this—this warmth, this affection. It was foreign to him, something he had long since resigned himself to living without. But now, with you, it was becoming a part of his life, and as much as it terrified him, he found himself clinging to it, desperate for the light you brought into his world.

He didn’t trust himself to speak, didn’t trust his voice to remain steady, so instead, he simply nodded, his hand coming up to rest on yours, squeezing it gently in silent acknowledgment.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just a connection, a confirmation that he was here, with you, in this moment. Whatever it was, Snape felt a surge of emotion rise up within him, threatening to overwhelm him.

And then, as if sensing his turmoil, you leaned in and kissed him, your lips soft and warm against his, a gentle caress that made his heart ache with longing. Snape responded almost automatically, his hands coming up to cradle your face as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperate need that he hadn’t felt in years.

The kiss quickly grew more heated, more urgent, as Snape’s hands roamed over your body, feeling the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your clothes. He could feel the desire building within him, the need to take this further, to lose himself in you, in the warmth and comfort that you offered.

But then, just as quickly as it had begun, you pulled back, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of desire and uncertainty.

"Severus," you murmured, your voice trembling slightly as you placed your hands on his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "I… I want to be with you, but…"

Snape felt his heart clench at your words, the hesitation in your voice, the uncertainty in your eyes. He knew what you were going to say, knew what was holding you back, and it made his chest tighten with a mix of frustration and sorrow.

"But you’re not ready," Snape finished for you, his voice low and rough as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. "And that’s okay, love. We’ll take things at your pace."

You looked up at him, your eyes filling with tears as you nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as you savored the warmth of his hand against your skin.

Snape felt a wave of emotion wash over him, a mixture of love and frustration and something else—something deeper, something darker that he couldn’t quite put into words. He wanted you, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—push you into something you weren’t ready for. Not after everything you had been through.

So instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin as he whispered, "When you’re ready, I’ll be here."

You nodded, your arms wrapping around his waist as you buried your face in his chest, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline. And in that moment, Snape realized that maybe, just maybe, he was.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Snape couldn’t help but think of how far he had come, how much his life had changed since the end of the war. He had gone from being a man consumed by darkness and hatred, to a man who was learning to love again, who was finding solace in the warmth of a woman’s embrace.

But even as he held you close, the weight of his secrets pressed down on him, a constant reminder that there was still so much you didn’t know about him, so much that he was keeping from you.

And as much as he wanted to protect you from that darkness, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.

For now, though, he would hold onto this moment, this brief reprieve from the shadows that haunted his every step. And he would continue to wait, as long as it took, until you were ready to take that next step, to fully trust him with your body, your heart, your soul.

Because for the first time in his life, Severus Snape had something worth waiting for.

You and Severus Snape sat across from each other at the small, worn kitchen table in his modest home. The room was quiet, save for the soft clinking of spoons against bowls as you both ate the soup he had prepared. The aroma of the dish filled the air, a comforting blend of herbs and spices that seemed almost out of place in the austere surroundings of Spinner’s End.

Snape watched you closely, his dark, piercing eyes never leaving your face as you took your first tentative spoonful of the soup. He appeared calm and composed, but there was a hint of something else in his gaze—an emotion that he carefully kept hidden behind his usual mask of indifference. You, oblivious to the scrutiny, tasted the soup, savoring the warmth that spread through you as you swallowed.

To your surprise, the soup was not just good—it was delicious. The flavors were rich and well-balanced, each ingredient perfectly complementing the others. You glanced up at Snape, your eyes wide with genuine admiration. “This is amazing, Severus,” you said, your voice filled with pleasant surprise. “I didn’t expect you to be such a good cook!”

Snape’s response was immediate. He rolled his eyes in a manner that was both exaggerated and entirely out of character, the motion so unexpected that it caught you off guard. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he affected a tone of mock offense. “What did you expect, then? That I would poison you with my lack of culinary skills?”

You burst into laughter, the sound bright and clear in the small, dimly lit kitchen. “No, no! It’s just—I mean, you never struck me as the type to… well, cook. You always seem so serious, so… severe.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, but there was a glint of amusement in them that you hadn’t noticed before. “I am full of surprises, as you’ve clearly discovered,” he said dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he were fighting the urge to smile.

You tried to stifle your laughter, covering your mouth with one hand as you leaned forward, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Sev. I didn’t mean to sound so… rude. I’m just pleasantly surprised, that’s all.”

Snape’s expression remained impassive, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, if you’re going to be so disrespectful about my cooking, perhaps I should refrain from ever doing it again,” he said, his tone smooth and measured, though laced with a subtle edge of sarcasm.

Your laughter died down, and you looked at him with wide, imploring eyes, your lips forming a small, playful pout. “Oh, please don’t do that! I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He allowed the silence to stretch out, letting you squirm slightly under his gaze. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he set his spoon down and leaned back in his chair, his long, pale fingers steepled in front of him. “I suppose I can find it within myself to forgive you,” he said with mock gravity, his voice carrying that familiar, rich baritone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You grinned, relieved by the playful banter that had emerged between you two. “I promise to be more appreciative next time,” you said, your tone light and teasing.

Snape’s eyes softened slightly, and he allowed himself a small, genuine smile, though it was fleeting. “See that you do,” he replied, his voice carrying just a hint of warmth. He picked up his spoon once more, returning his attention to his soup, though you could tell he was still watching you from the corner of his eye.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, the earlier tension between you having dissipated entirely. There was something soothing about the simplicity of the moment—the two of you sharing a meal, the quiet intimacy of the evening wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

After a while, you looked up at him, a thought crossing your mind. “Severus,” you began, your voice soft and curious, “you never really talk about your past. You’ve told me bits and pieces, but… I don’t really know much about you.”

Snape’s hand paused mid-motion, his spoon hovering over the bowl. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something—uncertainty, perhaps?—in his gaze. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual inscrutable expression.

“What exactly do you want to know?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

You hesitated, unsure of how to phrase your question without prying too much. “I know you were a professor—a chemistry professor, right? At a college in Scotland?”

He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the version of his past that he had shared with you. “Yes,” he said, his voice measured. “I taught for many years.”

You smiled at him, trying to convey that you weren’t seeking to push him into sharing anything he wasn’t comfortable with. “It must have been… interesting, teaching. But I can’t imagine it was easy, especially with students who didn’t always appreciate your brilliance.”

Snape’s lips twitched at that, and he let out a soft, sardonic huff. “Indeed. Many of them were more interested in their own self-indulgent pursuits than in actually learning anything of value.”

You chuckled, imagining a classroom full of students cowering under Snape’s stern gaze, their attempts at chemistry likely met with his cutting remarks. “I’m sure you were a… challenging teacher,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your tact. “I was effective,” he replied simply, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

You leaned forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him with genuine curiosity. “Do you miss it? Teaching, I mean.”

For a moment, Snape was silent, his eyes distant as if he were considering your question—or perhaps reliving old memories. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more reflective. “There are aspects of it that I miss, yes. The pursuit of knowledge, the satisfaction of imparting it to those few who were truly eager to learn… But the rest… no, I do not miss that.”

You nodded, understanding that there was much more to his past than he was willing—or perhaps able—to share. You didn’t press further, content to let him reveal what he wished in his own time. Instead, you reached out and gently placed your hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Sev,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his with sincerity.

Snape looked at you, his expression inscrutable, but you could sense the shift in his mood—the subtle softening of his usual defenses. “You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice low and almost reluctant, as if the words didn’t come easily to him.

You both returned to your meal, the earlier levity now replaced by a quiet, comfortable silence. As you finished your soup, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment—a feeling that, despite everything, you were exactly where you were meant to be, with the man who, against all odds, had become so important to you.

And as Snape watched you from across the table, his dark eyes lingering on your face, he too felt a stirring of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years—something that, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t entirely hate.

Days later, you found yourself in a small, charming boutique nestled in the heart of town, dragging Severus Snape along with you. The place was a far cry from the dark, foreboding atmosphere of Spinner's End. It was bright, colorful, and filled with racks of clothing that seemed to almost offend Snape’s sensibilities. The air was thick with the scent of fresh fabric and a hint of perfume, and the light streaming through the windows made everything seem almost unnaturally cheerful.

Snape, however, was anything but cheerful.

He stood in the middle of the store, his tall, lean frame towering over the racks of clothing, his long black coat making him look like a shadow in a world of light. His greasy black hair hung over his pale, angular face, and his dark eyes were narrowed in a mixture of disdain and discomfort. He watched you with a glare that could have curdled milk, his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

"You cannot be serious," he growled, his deep, monotone voice cutting through the lighthearted chatter of the boutique. "I have no interest in—"

"Oh, come on, Sev," you interrupted, undeterred by his intimidating presence as you held up a bright, turquoise shirt, eyeing it critically before pushing it against his chest. "You can't always wear black. It's time for a change, don't you think?"

Snape recoiled as if you had just handed him a particularly venomous potion. "Absolutely not," he snapped, pushing the shirt away from him as if it were toxic. "I am perfectly content with my current wardrobe, thank you very much."

You rolled your eyes, clearly unfazed by his resistance. "You can't hide in black forever, you know. It’s time to add a little color to your life, Severus."

He scowled, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of stubborn defiance. "I see no need for such frivolity. I am not one of your... fashion experiments."

You grinned at his surly tone, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you rifled through another rack of clothing. "Well, maybe you should be. I think you’d look quite dashing in something other than black for a change."

Snape’s eyes narrowed further as he watched you, clearly unimpressed with the direction this outing was taking. "This is absurd," he muttered, though there was a faint trace of resignation in his voice as he realized that there was no escaping your determination.

And then, as if to test his resolve further, you pulled out a bright pink shirt from the rack, holding it up for him to see. "What about this?" you asked, your voice filled with playful innocence. "I think pink would really bring out the color in your eyes."

Snape’s reaction was immediate and visceral. His dark eyes widened in horror, and for a moment, it looked as if he might actually hiss at the offending garment. "Absolutely not!" he thundered, taking a step back as if the shirt were about to attack him. "I will not—under any circumstances—wear pink! No! No! No way! I’d rather die before wearing that!"

You burst into laughter at his dramatic reaction, clutching the shirt to your chest as you tried to stifle your giggles. "Oh, Sev," you managed between laughs, "you’re being ridiculous. It’s just a shirt!"

"It’s not just a shirt," he retorted, his voice laced with indignation. "It’s a deliberate assault on my dignity. Pink, indeed!" He scoffed, his nose wrinkling in disdain. "Do I look like someone who would wear pink?"

You stepped closer to him, your laughter subsiding as you held the shirt up to his chest again, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of challenge and affection. "You might be surprised," you teased, your voice softening slightly as you gave him a knowing smile. "Besides, I think you’d look quite handsome in it. It’s just for fun, Sev. No one’s going to see you."

Snape stared down at you, his expression unreadable as he contemplated your words. There was a long moment of silence as the two of you stood there, the bright pink shirt still held between you, an unspoken battle of wills playing out in the air.

Finally, with a resigned sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, Snape snatched the shirt from your hands, his dark eyes glaring at you with a mixture of frustration and reluctant acceptance. "Fine," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "But if I look ridiculous, I will hold you personally responsible."

You grinned, practically bouncing on your toes with excitement as you watched him disappear into the dressing room. "I’m sure you’ll look fantastic," you called after him, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

Several minutes passed, and you waited impatiently outside the dressing room, practically buzzing with anticipation. Finally, the door creaked open, and Snape stepped out, his tall, lean frame draped in the bright pink shirt you had chosen for him.

For a moment, you were stunned into silence. The shirt, against all odds, actually looked… good on him. The color, while a far cry from his usual black, brought out a warmth in his pale complexion that you hadn’t noticed before. The way the fabric clung to his lean form was surprisingly flattering, highlighting the sharp lines of his shoulders and chest.

But what really struck you was the expression on Snape’s face. He looked utterly resigned, as if he were bracing himself for some inevitable disaster, but there was also a glimmer of something else in his dark eyes—something that almost looked like amusement.

He stood there, his arms hanging stiffly at his sides, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he clapped his hands together, his expression deadpan as he waited for your reaction. "Well?" he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are you satisfied with your handiwork, or do I need to suffer through more of this torture?"

You couldn’t help it. You burst into laughter, the sound bright and joyful as you clapped your hands together in delight. "You look… amazing, Severus!" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you stepped closer to him, reaching out to smooth the fabric of the shirt against his chest. "I knew you’d look good in pink!"

Snape rolled his eyes, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips that betrayed his own amusement. "I look like an idiot," he muttered, though the words lacked any real heat. "This is precisely why I do not allow you to choose my clothing."

You grinned up at him, your hands resting on his chest as you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, I think you look quite handsome," you said, your voice filled with affection. "And besides, it’s good to have a little fun every now and then, don’t you think?"

Snape huffed, clearly unconvinced, but there was a softness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before—a subtle acknowledgment of the fact that, despite his grumbling, he didn’t entirely hate the experience.

"Fun," he repeated, his voice laced with irony as he gave you a pointed look. "Yes, well, I suppose if nothing else, I’ve provided you with some amusement."

You chuckled, your eyes twinkling as you leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "You always do, Severus. You always do."

And as you both left the boutique, Snape still wearing the pink shirt with a mixture of resignation and reluctant acceptance, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. The man who had once been shrouded in darkness, who had built walls around himself so high that no one could penetrate them, was slowly letting you in—one bright pink shirt at a time.

Later that day, after the unexpected and rather amusing shopping trip, you found yourself back at Snape’s home. The small, dimly lit rooms of Spinner’s End were a stark contrast to the bright, colorful boutique you had dragged him to earlier, but there was a certain comfort in the familiarity of the old, worn furniture and the quiet, almost melancholic atmosphere that seemed to permeate every corner of the house.

Snape, now mercifully back in his usual black attire, sat stiffly on a low stool in the bathroom, his long legs awkwardly folded in front of him, as you fussed over his hair. The small, narrow room was filled with the scent of shampoo and the faint sound of water dripping from the faucet, the only noises breaking the otherwise heavy silence.

You stood behind him, your fingers working through the tangled strands of his long, greasy black hair, your touch gentle but insistent. The hair-washing had been your idea, of course—a suggestion made with the kind of playful insistence that you knew Snape could never fully resist, no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

Snape, for his part, was doing his best to endure the ordeal with what little dignity he had left. His dark eyes were narrowed in a mixture of discomfort and irritation as he glared at his reflection in the small mirror above the sink, his lips pressed into a thin line of discontent. Every so often, he would let out a low grumble, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

"Must you continue this charade?" he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shot you a sideways glance in the mirror. "I’m quite capable of washing my own hair, you know."

You ignored his complaints, your fingers continuing to work through the soapy strands of his hair with determined care. "Oh, hush, Severus," you replied, your tone light and teasing as you gently massaged his scalp. "You’re just being grumpy because you know I’m right—this hair needs a good washing, and you weren’t about to do it yourself."

Snape let out an indignant huff, his fingers curling tightly around the edge of the sink as he tried to maintain some semblance of control over the situation. "I hardly think you’re qualified to make such judgments," he retorted, though the faint hint of amusement in his tone betrayed his true feelings. "And you’re taking entirely too much pleasure in this."

You chuckled softly, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you leaned down to press a quick, playful kiss to the top of his head. "Of course I am," you admitted, your voice filled with affection as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. "When else do I get the chance to pamper you like this?"

Snape rolled his eyes, though the gesture lacked any real heat. "Pamper," he repeated, his voice laced with irony as he met your gaze in the mirror. "If this is what you consider pampering, then I shudder to think what you would consider torture."

You grinned, your hands still working methodically through his hair, carefully untangling each knot with the patience of someone who had come to know him well enough to not be intimidated by his gruff demeanor. "Oh, Sev," you teased, your voice soft and affectionate, "I think you secretly enjoy this more than you let on. You just don’t want to admit it."

He scoffed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he turned his head to glare at you, though there was no real malice in his gaze. "I assure you, I derive no enjoyment from being subjected to this… this—"

"Indulgence?" you supplied, your tone light and playful as you met his glare with a knowing smile.

"Humiliation," Snape corrected, his voice heavy with sarcasm as he turned his attention back to the mirror, his expression once again settling into its usual stoic mask. "But by all means, continue with your… indulgence."

You shook your head, your grin widening as you continued to work through his hair, the strands slowly becoming less tangled, less greasy under your careful ministrations. "You’re impossible," you muttered, though there was no real heat behind the words. "But that’s part of your charm, I suppose."

Snape’s only response was a low, noncommittal grunt, his fingers tapping impatiently against the edge of the sink as he tried to maintain his patience.

After a few more minutes of combing through his hair, you finally felt satisfied with your work. You reached for a clean towel, gently wrapping it around his head as you began to dry the now-clean strands with a firm but gentle touch. "There, all done," you said, your voice filled with a quiet satisfaction as you stepped back to admire your handiwork.

Snape, however, was less than impressed. He reached up, his long fingers brushing through his now-damp hair with a frown, as if expecting to find some glaring imperfection. "Are you quite finished?" he asked, his tone a mixture of irritation and resignation as he glanced at you in the mirror.

"Not quite," you replied, your eyes catching sight of a single strand of white hair near the crown of his head. Your expression shifted from playful to curious as you reached out to touch the strand, gently pulling it free from the rest of his hair.

"Sev," you said, your voice filled with a mixture of surprise and amusement as you held up the white hair for him to see. "Look what I found."

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the strand in your hand, his expression immediately hardening. "That is not mine," he stated flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It must have gotten mixed in with my hair somehow."

You couldn’t help but laugh at his stubborn denial, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you dangled the strand in front of him. "Oh, come on, Sev," you teased, your voice light and playful as you met his glare with a grin. "It’s just one white hair. It’s nothing to be ashamed of."

Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line, his dark eyes narrowing further as he snatched the strand from your hand, his expression one of absolute refusal. "It is not mine," he repeated, his voice filled with the kind of certainty that only Severus Snape could muster. "I do not have white hair."

You rolled your eyes, clearly amused by his adamant refusal to accept the truth. "You’re impossible," you muttered, shaking your head as you watched him carefully inspect the strand of hair, as if trying to find some evidence to support his claim.

"Impossible or not," Snape replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he tossed the strand of hair into the waste bin with a flick of his wrist, "I refuse to believe that I am… aging."

You chuckled softly, reaching out to gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against the sharp line of his jaw as you looked up at him with a mixture of affection and amusement. "Everyone ages, Sev," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth as you met his gaze. "Even you."

Snape’s expression softened slightly at your words, though he still seemed reluctant to accept the truth. "Perhaps," he muttered, his voice low and gruff as he glanced away, his dark eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had become so important to you, despite his stubbornness, despite his gruff exterior. "It’s nothing to worry about," you assured him, your voice soft and reassuring as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I think it just makes you more distinguished."

Snape let out a low, skeptical grunt, his lips curving into a faint, reluctant smile as he met your gaze once more. "Distinguished," he repeated, his tone filled with a mixture of irony and amusement. "Is that what you call it?"

You grinned, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you nodded. "Absolutely," you replied, your voice filled with playful conviction. "And besides, it’s just one hair. You’ve got plenty of time before you have to worry about going gray."

Snape rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced by your reassurances, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he allowed himself to relax into your touch, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulled you closer, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he looked down at you with a mixture of desire and frustration.

"You’re entirely too pleased with yourself," he murmured, his voice low and rough as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering on your skin.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze, your heart quickening as you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. "And you’re entirely too grumpy," you retorted, though your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, the playful banter giving way to a sudden, undeniable tension that crackled in the air between you.

Snape’s lips curved into a small, dangerous smile, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "Perhaps," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, seductive growl as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "you need to be reminded of why you shouldn’t push me too far."

Your breath hitched at the underlying threat in his tone, a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through you as his fingers tightened around your wrist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the steady, insistent pressure of his arousal against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of desire straight to your core.

"Severus," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and uncertain.

He met your gaze, his expression softening slightly as he sensed your hesitation, the dark intensity in his eyes giving way to a quiet, almost tender concern. "You’re still afraid," he murmured, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire as he brushed his lips against your temple, the gentle gesture at odds with the possessive grip he had on your wrist. "You don’t have to be, love."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the weight of his words, the quiet reassurance in his voice making your resolve waver. "I know," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt, of hesitation.

But there was none. Only the dark, smoldering intensity of a man who wanted you—body, heart, and soul.

"I want this," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for so long, the words that you had been too afraid to say. "I want you, Sev."

A low growl rumbled deep in his chest at your admission, his dark eyes flashing with a mixture of desire and satisfaction as he leaned down to capture your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a possessive urgency that made your knees weak.

You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his damp hair as you pressed yourself against him, the fear and hesitation that had held you back for so long melting away in the heat of his embrace. There was no room for doubt, no room for fear—only the overwhelming need to be with him, to feel him, to lose yourself in the pleasure that he offered.

Snape’s hands moved with a sure, practiced grace as he deftly unbuttoned your blouse, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pushed the fabric aside, revealing the smooth, pale expanse of your chest. He let out a low, appreciative groan as he took in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire as he reached up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples with a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with barely restrained desire as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the hollow of your throat, his hands moving to your waist as he slowly began to guide you toward the bed. "I’ve wanted this for so long… wanted you for so long."

You let out a soft moan at the feel of his lips against your skin, your heart pounding in your chest as you allowed him to lead you, your legs trembling with anticipation as you felt the edge of the bed against the back of your knees. "Sev," you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of desire and uncertainty as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

He met your gaze, his expression softening slightly as he sensed your lingering hesitation, his hands moving to cup your face as he leaned down to press a gentle, reassuring kiss to your lips. "You don’t have to be afraid," he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he brushed his thumbs against your cheeks, his dark eyes filled with a quiet, tender concern. "I’ll be gentle, love. I promise."

You nodded, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had been so patient, so understanding, even as his own desire threatened to consume him. "I trust you," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as you savored the warmth of his hands against your skin.

Snape let out a low, relieved sigh at your words, his lips curving into a small, tender smile as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his hands moving to gently guide you onto the bed. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet, sincere gratitude as he leaned over you, his dark eyes never leaving yours as he slowly began to undress you, his fingers brushing against your skin with a reverent care that made your heart ache.

There was no rush, no urgency—only the slow, deliberate movements of a man who wanted to savor every moment, every touch, every kiss. And as he finally stripped away the last of your clothing, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath him, you felt a sense of peace settle over you, the fear and uncertainty that had plagued you for so long fading into the background as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

Snape took his time, his hands and lips exploring every inch of your body with a slow, deliberate care that made your breath hitch in your throat, the pleasure building with every touch, every caress. He was patient, attentive, always watching, always listening for any sign of discomfort, of hesitation, ready to stop at a moment’s notice if you so much as whispered a word of doubt.

But you gave him none. Only soft, breathless moans and whispered pleas for more, your body arching into his touch as he slowly, gently, brought you to the edge of pleasure, only to pull back, teasing you with the promise of release before finally, mercifully, giving you what you craved.

When he finally entered you, it was with a slow, deliberate thrust, his hands gripping your hips as he filled you completely, the sensation both overwhelming and exquisitely perfect. You let out a soft cry, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, your body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure that surged through you.

"Sev," you moaned, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and relief as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he began to move, his thrusts slow and measured, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

He let out a low, guttural groan at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands tightening on your hips as he quickened his pace, the intensity of his movements matched only by the fierce, possessive hunger in his eyes as he looked down at you, his expression one of absolute, unbridled need.

"You’re mine," he growled, his voice rough with desire as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his hips driving into you with a desperate urgency that made your breath hitch in your throat. "Mine, love. Always."

You could only moan in response, your mind too clouded with pleasure to form coherent words as you lost yourself in the sensation of him moving inside you, the steady, insistent rhythm of his thrusts sending you spiraling closer and closer to the edge of release.

And then, with a final, powerful thrust, he pushed you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you cried out in pleasure, your fingers digging into his back as you clung to him, the intensity of your orgasm leaving you breathless, trembling, and utterly spent.

Snape continued moving inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as the intensity of his own pleasure grew, his control slipping with each passing second. His dark eyes, usually so guarded and inscrutable, were now clouded with raw desire as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“Where do you want it?” he asked, his voice a strained whisper, rough with the effort to hold back. There was a note of desperation in his tone, a plea for your permission, your acceptance, as he teetered on the edge of release.

Your mind was a haze of pleasure, your body still trembling from the powerful orgasm he had just coaxed from you. His question hung in the air, charged with the weight of what it would mean—for him to finally claim you, to mark you as his.

“In me,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, but there was no mistaking the conviction in your words. “Cum inside me, Severus.”

A low, guttural curse escaped his lips, a rare crack in his usually controlled demeanor, as he buried himself to the hilt with a final, powerful thrust. The sensation of his thick length pulsing deep inside you sent a shudder through your body, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, holding him close as he found his release.

He came hard, his entire body tensing as he spilled himself inside you, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he held you in place, ensuring that every last drop was buried deep within you. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, mingling with the soft, desperate moans that escaped his lips as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, the intensity of it nearly overwhelming him.

“Mine,” he growled through clenched teeth, his voice rough with satisfaction as he pressed a bruising kiss to your lips, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release. “You’re mine, love… all mine.”

You could only nod weakly, your body spent, your mind still reeling from the force of your own climax. The weight of his words, the possessiveness in his tone, sent a thrill through you, even as exhaustion began to creep in, your limbs heavy and languid as you lay beneath him.

Snape slowly pulled out of you, a low, satisfied groan rumbling in his chest as he watched the evidence of his claim slowly begin to seep from your body. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, the sight stirring something deep within him—something primal, possessive, and utterly inescapable.

But before you could fully process what was happening, Snape surprised you by shifting lower, his long, lean frame sliding down the bed until his face was level with your still-sensitive core. Your eyes widened in shock as you realized what he intended, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide to make room for himself.

“Sev—” you began, your voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and lingering sensitivity, but he silenced you with a look, his dark eyes glinting with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Be still,” he commanded softly, his voice a low, dangerous growl as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your inner thigh in a feather-light caress. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

You whimpered softly, your body trembling as he moved closer, his breath hot against your already oversensitive skin. You could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your most intimate areas, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure and discomfort through your body in equal measure.

“Severus, please,” you pleaded, your voice weak and breathy as you tried to squirm away, the overwhelming sensitivity making you want to pull back, to escape the onslaught of sensations that were too much, too intense.

But Snape would have none of it. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you firmly in place as he buried his face between your legs, his lips and tongue seeking out the remnants of his own release mixed with your essence. The feel of his mouth on you, the deliberate, almost reverent way he cleaned you, was both too much and not enough, your mind spinning with the intensity of it all.

“Stay still,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a rough whisper as he continued his ministrations, his tongue lapping at you with slow, deliberate strokes that sent shivers of pleasure racing up your spine. “Let me taste you… let me taste what’s mine.”

You gasped, your fingers curling into the sheets as you fought against the urge to pull away, the overwhelming sensitivity making every touch feel like both pleasure and torture. Your body jerked involuntarily, but Snape only tightened his grip, holding you steady as he continued to work his mouth against you, his dark eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

He loved this—loved the way you trembled beneath him, the way your body responded to his touch even when it was too much, too intense. He loved the way your breath hitched in your throat, the way your nails dug into the sheets as you fought to keep still, to endure the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with dark satisfaction as he continued to lap at you, his tongue flicking against your clit in a way that made you cry out, your body convulsing beneath him. “So perfect… so responsive… I could do this forever.”

You couldn’t respond, your mind too clouded with pleasure, your body too wracked with sensation to form coherent words. All you could do was cling to the sheets, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Snape continued to work his mouth against you, his tongue relentless in its pursuit of every last drop of your combined release.

“Sev, please… it’s too much,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and need as you tried to pull away, your body on the verge of another climax, the overstimulation sending jolts of pleasure and pain through you in equal measure.

But Snape didn’t let up. If anything, your pleas only seemed to spur him on, his mouth working you with renewed fervor, his hands tightening on your thighs as he held you in place, refusing to let you escape the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

“You can take it,” he growled against your skin, his voice filled with a dark, possessive hunger as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re mine, love… every part of you. I’ll make you cum again… I’ll make you remember who you belong to.”

His words were your undoing. With a final, desperate cry, your body convulsed beneath him, your second orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless, trembling, and utterly spent. Snape held you through it, his mouth never leaving you, his tongue continuing to lap at you even as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your release.

When you finally came down from the high, your body limp and exhausted, Snape slowly pulled away, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you, his lips curving into a small, dangerous smile.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a dark, possessive satisfaction as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your trembling thigh. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

You could only nod weakly, your mind clouded by exhaustion and the overwhelming pleasure that had just coursed through you. Every muscle in your body felt heavy, spent, and as you lay there, trying to catch your breath, the reality of what had just transpired began to sink in. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart still pounding in your ears, as you waited for the inevitable.

You braced yourself for the cold distance that you had come to expect from your past—waiting for him to pull away, to turn his back on you, to push you away with a dismissive order, just like your ex-boyfriend used to do. The old fears began to creep back in, threatening to ruin the quiet afterglow that had settled over the room.

But Severus didn’t do that.

Instead, he surprised you. The bed shifted under his weight as he climbed in beside you, and before you could even process what was happening, he gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. His embrace was firm but comforting, his long, lean body molding perfectly to yours as he held you, his breath warm against your temple.

“Did you like it?” he asked quietly, his deep, monotone voice soft, almost hesitant, as if he were unsure of the answer. His hand came up to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and careful, as if he were afraid of overwhelming you further. You could feel his lips brush against your forehead in a tender kiss, a gesture that was so unexpected, so out of character, that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the voice to tell him how much his gentleness meant to you, how much his care and concern had touched you. Instead, all you could do was lay there in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

When you didn’t respond immediately, Severus tensed slightly, his grip on you loosening as if he feared he had done something wrong. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet regret. “If I was too much… if I pressured you… that was never my intention.”

The sincerity in his words, the genuine worry that laced his tone, sent a wave of emotion crashing over you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to blink rapidly to keep them from falling. The care he was showing you, the way he was so attuned to your feelings, was something you weren’t used to. Your ex-boyfriend had never asked if you were okay, never checked if you were comfortable or happy. But here was Severus, a man who had every reason to be distant and cold, holding you with such tenderness, such concern, that it made your heart ache.

You turned your head slightly, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. His dark gaze met yours, and you could see the worry etched into his sharp features, the way his brow furrowed as he waited for your response. He was genuinely concerned for you, genuinely worried that he had done something to hurt you, and the realization was almost too much to bear.

“I…” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, but all you could manage was a soft, choked sob as the tears finally spilled over, trailing down your cheeks. “Severus, I… I’ve never…”

You couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t find a way to explain the depth of what you were feeling. But Severus seemed to understand. His expression softened, and he gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb, his touch so gentle, so reverent, that it only made you cry harder.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “It’s all right, love. You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m here… and I’m not going anywhere.”

The reassurance in his words, the quiet promise that he would stay, that he wouldn’t push you away, was more than you could have ever hoped for. You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you clung to him, your arms wrapping around his waist in a desperate attempt to hold onto this moment, to hold onto the safety and comfort he was offering you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest as you tried to control the sobs that threatened to overwhelm you. “I’m sorry for crying… I just… I’m not used to this. To someone caring.”

Severus tightened his hold on you, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you against him as he whispered, “You never have to apologize for your feelings, not with me. And you deserve to be cared for, love. You deserve to be treated with kindness… with respect.”

The words sent another wave of emotion crashing over you, and you couldn’t hold back the sobs that shook your body, the raw, unfiltered emotion spilling out of you as you finally allowed yourself to feel the depth of what you had been holding back for so long. Severus held you through it all, his arms wrapped around you, his hand gently stroking your hair as he murmured soft words of comfort, his deep voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving you exhausted and drained, you pulled back slightly, looking up at Severus through tear-streaked eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. “Thank you for… for being so kind. For caring.”

Severus gazed down at you, his dark eyes filled with a warmth that took your breath away. “I care about you more than you know,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “And I will always care. You’re safe with me… always.”

You nodded, unable to find the words to express how much his reassurance meant to you, how much his presence in your life had changed everything. Instead, you simply leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, pouring all of your gratitude, all of your affection, into that one, simple gesture.

Severus returned the kiss with a tenderness that made your heart swell, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a slow, deliberate care that made you feel cherished, adored.

When the kiss finally ended, Severus rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he whispered, “You’re incredible, love. So strong… so beautiful. And I’m honored that you’ve allowed me to be a part of your life.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he spoke those words as if he truly believed them, made your chest tighten with emotion. No one had ever spoken to you like this before, had ever made you feel so valued, so loved.

“Severus,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you looked up at him, your eyes shining with tears. “I… I love you.”

For a moment, Severus didn’t respond. His dark eyes searched yours, as if trying to discern the truth in your words, and when he finally spoke, his voice was filled with a quiet, almost reverent awe. “You love me?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you repeated the words, letting them hang in the air between you. “I love you, Severus. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Severus closed his eyes, a soft, shaky breath escaping his lips as he let the words sink in. When he opened his eyes again, there was a vulnerability in his gaze that took your breath away, a raw, unguarded emotion that he had never allowed you to see before.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet, almost desperate sincerity. “More than I ever thought possible.”

The words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the wounds left by your past, filling the empty spaces in your heart with a warmth that you had never known before. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close as you buried your face in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your ear.

And as Severus held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a protective, comforting embrace, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. In his arms, in his heart, in his life. And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly, deeply loved.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Could i please have #47, maybe one of the hughes brothers, you can choose which

This just screams Jack Hughes to me and no I can't explain why.

Drabble Challenge

"I thought it was a one night stand... and now were married."

It feels like you blinked your eyes and suddenly in a flash your life had changed so much in only a little under three years. Three years ago today, you met Jack at one of his games through a friend of a friend. Both of you had heard about each other in passing, Jack for being as your friend called it "the prettiest fuckboy of Jersey," and you for being so goal orientated you hadn't gone on a proper date in years. When you guys met, something just clicked and you decided to say fuck it and give into him for the night. You remember thinking to yourself "what's harm can one night do?"

But the thing about life is just when you think you know what's going on, it's like the universe pulls out a Uno reverse card and the entire world turns upside down. Three years ago today, that's exactly what happened never would you have thought that you would be standing where you are right now with Jack Hughes let alone now share a last name. But what started as a fun night to a good stress reliver ended up being so much more. Now you found him sinking into you as you showered together. Jack just came home from an early morning skate and you're trying to get ready for the day before waking your son up to get ready for daycare.

It was quick like most sex now a days for new parents but you loved it. Jack rested his forehead on the back of yout shoulderblade, trying to catch his breath as he left open mouth kisses there. "I love you baby. happy anniversary." he whispered.

All you could do was laugh, it wasn't a mean laugh. You just couldn't help yourself from laughing at the irony of it all. "What's so funny lovie?" his voice laced with curiosity, still inside you from moments ago.

"I'm sorry I just..." trying to catch your breath "years ago I thought it was gonna be a one night stand." The laugh that left your lips was hard to miss, you found yourself holding your ribs as you continued to laugh as Jack joined you.

"And now were married." he finished.

"yeah now were married." Finally being able to stop laughing he slipped out of you and turned you around in the shower.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way. I love this little life." he admitted and your heart swelled with the love that Jack has for you in the moment.

"Me too" you shyly admitted.

[bellesdreamyprofile]

sad days with y/n - 1970´s elvis

You've never experienced long-term happiness before. You've had great days that even turned into happy, delightful weeks - which you were thankful for as you were finally able to spend your energy on the people you loved. But when those happy days turned into sudden pits of endless sorrow, you felt guilty and as powerless as ever.

Why did you feel like this? You thought of a necklace and the love of your life bought it for you without batting an eye. Business class, shoes, hair, makeup and even an entire room with every book that your little heart desired.

Why did you feel like this?

You sighed as you gazed out of the large window, shiny Las Vegas lights blinked every now and then. People's chatter mixed with loud thoughts running in your head. You couldn't even concentrate on what the wives were saying, let alone at the grand entrance Elvis made in the room after another one of his magnificent shows.

"—and Joe kept complaining at the pair of shoes I bought the week before we departed for Vegas.", Joanie tapped her cigarette on the ashtray. Patty nodded in understanding and lit up her own cigarette.

"Red's been the same.", she rolled her eyes. "Like I haven't given him a son just months ago. That's the excuse I like to use anyways."

The chit chat went on for another hot minute and you couldn't help but sigh.

"How about you y/n? You and Elvis thinking of having a couple?", you blinked at Joanie's words.

"Sorry?"

"I meant if you were thinking of having kids.", if it weren't for your pitiful mood you would've blushed.

"We never talked about it, no.", you shook your head. "Now that he's started performing again a-and with the tours... I wouldn't wanna do it on my own.", you gave a brief explanation. Joanie and Pat exchanged a look, making you frown a little.

"You really think that Elvis would take some time off to stay with you?", she asked with irony laced in her voice.

Your lips parted. "When the baby comes, yes. I'm not expecting him to be 24/7 with me all throughout my pregnancy.", you said honestly.

"Oh, honey.", Patty shook her head and took a sip of her drink. "A man like Elvis Presley would never leave the luxury of a Vegas hotel and the love of thousands of fans for — don't take it personally — for a baby."

At this point your night couldn't take a worse turn. You hadn't been feeling your best and now they were trying to convince you not to have a baby with Elvis. Like the baby would've been neglected by a man like him. It secretly made you wonder if your dreams of Elvis being a wonderful and caring father would ever come true.

"You're telling me that Red didn't take some time off to be with you and your baby?", you raised an eyebrow.

"Honey, he's Elvis' bodyguard. In no universe would he have been by my side.", she said, nodding. Her eyes wandering outside as if she was reliving every single thing she went through. "Giving birth alone, taking care of the baby alone, feeding the baby alone... It's a lonely life."

"For the wife of the Mafia.", Joe added in. "But for the wife of the King..."

"It's even lonelier.", Patty finished off and sighed, her now finished cigarette on the ashtray. "Shame you don't smoke y/n, it's a great stress reliever.", she stood up and dusted off her skirt. "I'll back in a sec.", she exchanged a knowing look with Joanie, who reluctantly stood up. They knew what happened if they left the King's wife all by her lonesome. But they had already screwed up the moment they started talking.

"Yeah, I'll go grab another drink.", Joe offered you a tightlipped smile. "You want anything, y/n?", you shook your head and gazed outside the large window once again. You sighed and gulped as you felt salty tears form in your eyes. You let out a few shaky breaths and then decided to stand up and leave the party. Grabbing your purse and wiping the fallen tears away, a voice interrupted your actions.

"Hey honey.", it was him. It almost made you want to burst out in tears. You turned around and automatically smiled at the pretty face looking back at you.

"Hey my love.", you placed a hand on his cheek and tenderly kissed his lips. "Great show, like always.", you complimented, offering the best smile you could muster. But it seemed like he had already caught up on the glistening tears in your eyes.

"Thank you baby.", he said lowly and placed another kiss on your lips. Elvis gently took hold of your hand. "Let's go somewhere quieter for a moment, yes?", you simply nodded, not understanding why he would leave his own party. Jerry was quick to approach him, but Elvis waved him off.

"I'll come back later.", he justified and led you both in another room. "Go sit on that couch, honey.", you followed his words and sat down on the couch facing the large Vegas window. You sighed once again and that's when you realized he was going to confront you as to why you weren't as socially active as every other wife was.

Or perhaps he was going to compare you to the other girlfriends he had.

"What's the matter with you, lovie?", his finger gently moved your chin in his direction. You sighed, not being able to meet those baby blues. "Mhm? Honey?", another shaky sigh escaped your pink lips.

"C'mon baby, deep breaths for me.", Elvis grasped your hand and squeezed it — that was when everything started crumbling.

"It's been— It's been so hard lately, Elvis.", tears were now rolling down your cheeks as the built up tension was suddenly released. His hand was no longer on yours as your body was now engulfed by his own. How could you have doubted this man?

"I feel— I feel so fucking sad all the time I-I don't know what to do.", you confessed through your sobs. Though Elvis chose to remain silent and let you continue. "Then the girls said— The girls said that if we had a baby... You would leave me to care for it on my own.", that was when your gaze met his. "I can't raise a baby without you, Elvis. I can't.", you buried your face in his chest, desperately seeking for his familiar warmth.

Elvis' hand rubbed up and down your back, bringing you impossibly closer to him. His thoughts brought him reminders of the couple of days where he wasn't able to check up on you as he usually would. He was aware he was your comfort person and yet he chose to prioritize his career over your wellbeing. Elvis knew you would never resent him for that — you were his very own cheerleader. Yet he couldn't help but feel like he let you down — to the point of little, glistening tears rolling down your usual rosy cheeks.

And those women letting you believe he wouldn't be there for you when your little bundle of joy would eventually come along? They were going to pay. But there was a warm, fuzzy feeling in his tummy at the mention of you two having a yittle baby of your own. A little baby that would be the perfect mix of you and him. Those women were able to turn something so beautiful into something so fearful to you.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Satnin.", his finger grazed your teary cheeks. "With the new tour and the death threats— I just wanted to keep ya safe—"

You jolted up, giving him a confused look. "Death threats? Elvis!", but his eyes remained in yours, now proud you were finally able to look at him.

"You're telling me you would've been able to handle that information, baby?", Elvis raised an eyebrow and you lowly huffed, muttering a little "no".

"But still. You should've told me. I could've helped.", you justified and wiped a tear away. Elvis still gave you that look.

"Yeah because little miss over here was also open enough to tell me what's going on in her pretty head.", he tapped your temple, making you look down. "Little one, look at me.", another finger brought your chin up once again. "You need to understand that your emotions are in no way too much or not enough to tell me. You'll feel so much better afterwards, don't you?", you nodded and sighed, realizing that all of this could've been avoided with an honest conversation.

"I love you.", Elvis said firmly. "And it hurts seeing my best girl like this.", he placed a tender kiss on your lips, your eyes fluttering shut at his action. "Promise me you'll tell me everything from now on?", he showed you his pinky, making a small grin appear on your lips.

"You're silly.", you said in a light tone, but your words made his heart soar and his lips smile the biggest smile.

"Only for you, honey.", Elvis hooked your pinky with his and brought them closer to his lips, placing a small kiss on top. He suddenly furrowed, remembering a topic he forgot to mention to you. "Y/N?"

You looked his way and softly hummed.

"You do know that those bitches know nothing about you and I, right?"

You complained at the choice of words. "Elvis—"

"When the time comes for us to have a mini us...", he trailed off, mindlessly playing with the rings around your fingers. You fought back a small smile at his anxiety-led actions. "I would take off all the time we need. There ain't no way you're raising our child on your own, honey.", his eyes searched for yours and his honesty touched your heart.

It should be a given for a parent to take care of their child — but with Elvis and the world he has created for his fans, family and friends, it was a little more challenging. That's why you appreciated his words. Though only time will tell.

"Thank you, baby.", you said, letting your finger wander on his jaw. You placed your lips on his and then pulled away, feeling your heart as light as a feather. "I don't know what I would've done without you.", you confessed and he pouted.

"What would I do without you, honey?"

MASTERLIST elvis masterlist part 2

elvis presley digital 2025 calendar

[justheblueberry]

handbinding of A Study in Scarlette by kittebasu

There are people who want to live forever, and then there is Shinichi, who just wants to live a little longer than this.

this bind has been in my head since i first read the fic like, three years ago. i dreamed up so many ideas for it, for so long, and now it's finally done! the typeset was actually done in early 2022, back when i was still using google docs, but it went through a few iterations because i was just. so. fiddly. with every aspect of this book. it needed to be perfect (as close to perfect as i, an amateur bookbinder out of my depth, can get) and it had to be absolutely over the top, to reflect the insane amount of love and care that the author put into the fic itself.

the first time i read this fic, i barely knew what detective conan was, much less all of the intricate plot details; i was just along for the ride, but by the end i was completely invested. i went back and watched through the anime as well as a few movies (it took me six months) and then read the fic again. and then a few more times. kaishin and the world of dcmk has utterly gripped me. it's 100% this fic's fault and i love it so, so, much.

i went through a few iterations of visual designs and i'm really happy with the little details i managed to squeeze in.

the entire color scheme is based around red, because 1) it's a murder mystery, 2) for scarlette shinamoto (and the title of the fic as well as the original holmes novel it references), and 3) the irony of "lady red" actually being red. the secret fourth reason is that i think red/gold is a super sexy color combo.

i sewed the textblock with red thread to reference holmes' "scarlet thread of murder".

another detail i love is the five yen coin bookmark, it was one of my first ideas and it turned out even better than i thought.

i wanted the endpapers to evoke a sense of the white marbled floor of the ballroom, with the glow-in-the-dark kaitou kid caricature being the luminol on the floor, and the little pops of red looks like blood that's been mixed in. i lucked out in that the other side of the endpaper was like a lavender-purpley color, i like to think of it as a little wink wink nudge to the color of the actual Lady Red.

the chapter pages got a few reworkings, but i'm happy with the illustrations i ended up doing for each of them. the chapter titles are one of my favorite things about the fic, each one has so much meaning packed into it and flows so beautifully, and i wanted to put as much care into making them pop as possible.

the cover was a linocut carving i designed and carved, which i then printed onto the bookcloth, and ironed on htv on top.

i also threw in a couple of my drawings of my favorite scenes.

this is getting way too long, so i'll end it here. i'll have a separate post detailing the process every step of the way, if anyone wants to take a closer look. this fic is kind of directly responsible for getting me into fanbinding, so it's safe to say it altered the course of my life. i now spend way too much time (and money) looking at book stuff.

kittebasu, if, somehow, you see this and would like an author copy, i would be honored to make one and ship it to you; i would be overjoyed to gift you with any art i have the ability to make, because the fics you wrote have irreversibly altered my brain chemistry, and being able to give back in any capacity would be a dream. (thank you.)

a few postscripts:

i am not selling any copies of this fic. partially because i believe in the gift economy of fandom as well as firmly keeping fanbinding a hobby that will stay unmonetized, but also because it took me months (years, if we are counting when i first finished the typeset) to finish this and i do not have the strength.

however, if you are also a fan of this fic and would like a copy, i honestly, fervently, encourage you to give fanbinding a try! renegade publishing and its discord server are an absolutely wonderful and free resource. i knew nothing about bookbinding and had zero materials when i first started, but i've learned so much thanks to the lovely people there. if you're still apprehensive about getting started, i'd be willing to share my typeset of this fic as well as answer any questions about the making of this book if you DM me.

[writingoddess1125]

I am your Biggest Fan~ Pt. 2

WARNINGS: NON-Con, $mut, Face-Fuck, Spit as Lube, Hair Pulling, Dom!Buggy, Unprotected sex, DEAD-DOVE, Tsundare Buggy

Dirty Nasty $mut is below. Be warned ⚠️

I may have went overboard with the length- Also my first time writing $mut! Please tell me how I did and what you'd like to see next!

Buggy the Clown x GN Reader

Part 1: Biggest Fan Pt. 1

Buggy grinned as he stared down at (Y/N) keeping barely any space between the two of them as he bit up and down their neck. Listening to the mild hisses in pain and whimpers of fear- It was too sexy for him and made him want more.

"Captian!" A loud voice sounded making he growl and turn to see Cabaji. Holding his blades with some blood smeared on his face and costume.

"What do you want!?" Buggy Hissed in irritation.

"Sir, We have almost finished with the village. The Marines are sure to be informed" Ah right- this was a small village it wouldn't haven't taken long to pillage the place.

Buggy opened his mouth to speak but ended up getting a hard hit to his mouth as (Y/N) Slipped under his arms and tried to run. Buggy grabbing them by their hair with lightning fast reflexes yanking them back towards him- ignoring their cry for pain. Buggy growled at this as he glared down at (Y/N) before sighing-

"We set sail then, Get a move on!

He yelled at his first mate who nodded and dashed away to echo orders. Buggy gave a low chuckle at the performer, gripping their hair harder.

"Ill let you get that one for free since youre so damn cute Doll~ But looks like we are gonna have to rush our little act back to the Red Top~!"

He said cheerfully, her personality like a rubber ball constantly changing as he harshly flung them to the floor. Watching them trying to scramble for a quick second before he placed his boot on their back to pin them before looking around to for something to restrain them with. His eyes landing on the satin ribbons from the show. Snatching them quickly.

"Oh don't you love the irony~"

He grinned as he overpowered them with ease and tied the satin ribbons tightly around their hands and ankles.

"Let me go! YOU CANT DONT THIS YOU DIRTY PIR- MMHPH!"

They squealed as he shoved one of their lace fabrics into their mouth. Smirking at the sight and fluffing himself as a job well done. Quickly at the sound of the fire he grabbed the performer and tossed them over his shoulder, making sure to give their exposed ass a nice hard smack. Which earned him a angry squeal, before he took off.

Running out of the blood soaked bar and to the streets- It looked like what sidewalks in hell must. Blood, broken glass, fire and bodies- bodies of those who wouldn't be able to handle the long road of the show biz or audience left like animals on the street. (Y/N) screams muffled through the lace gag as they witnessed the carnage. Buggy laughing maniacally as he ran through those streets, sliding in the blood comically like this was another one of his performances. Seeing his crew rip the jewelry from the necks of people before either killing them or tightening harsh shackles to them.

Buggy skipped down the street till he reached his ship, Watching the new group of audience members being herded in like cattle to their final resting spots their seats. (Y/N) at this point sobbing as they were hauled away from the horror down to the Captian's room and tossed roughly on the large bed.

"Whoo! Just what I needed to get my Mojo back in seemed- Really got a full house this time!~"

He laughed, Taking off his hat and kicking his bloody boots off. Looking to (Y/N) and their pathetic form on his bed, shaking and with tears running down their cheeks

"Awww~ Baby No, No crying. I wanted to run that mascara a different way... tsk.. So messy"

The Captian grumbled, Grabbing his own little makeup bag and a hanky. He smiled down at them as he crawled towards them on the bed, Sitting before them making sure they were pinned with his legs as he chuckled at the sight of them under him. 'So cute'

He hummed as he wiped their tears away before opening the makeup bag.

"Now if you keep crying, I'm gonna have to keep doing your makeup all over again! And that's really gonna piss me off- So lets stop thay crying~"

Buggy said the last part darkly, (Y/N) staring up at Jim with pure terror as he smirked at the sight but nodded shakily. Sniffling through the lace gag as they tried to stop the tears from flowing.

"Good~ Very good sweetheart"

Carefully he reapplied the mascara and touched up the eyeshadow with what he owned which wasn't much. He pulled the lace gag from their lips and held their cheeks tightly with one hand and a firm grip

"Now stay still for this~"

He hummed, pulling out his favorite red and painted their lips perfectly. A wide grin playing as he saw his finished work, Placing another love bite to his newest toys neck but this time sinking deeper then before making (Y/N) cry out in pain as he broke skin. Pulling back to lick the blood from his teeth as he saw the mark.

"P-Please let me go- I don-"

He grabbed their face again (Y/N) flinching from his touch as he reached forward to fix their hair so they looked perfect.

"I-I don't want this- Please let me go- I'm begging"

Buggy almost rolled his eyes- if it wasn't for how adorable they were he would have slit their throat for how pathetic they sounded.

"Listen, Just so we are clear~ I am letting you live as MY plaything it's either this or I slit your throat and throw you overboard and I reeaalllyyy like you so I'd rather not waste such a pretty face"

He said with a smirk, watching the gears in the performers face as they realized the situation they were in. Giggling at the sight of realizing they didn't really have a choice, which was perfect. Reaching down to pull at the ankle restraints, tossing one peice of the satin ribbons to the side. However keeping the wrist one.

"Now nod if you understand-"

(Y/N) left their stomach sink- This was it... they either be this manic clowns play toy or end up like the poor villagers- in those shackles or worse.. They nodded shakily, Trying to hold back the want of breaking into sobs. Buggy clapped his hand happily and smiled brightly, those watercolor eyes swimming with pure joy at them understanding and in his mind agreeing- He kisses their cheek at this like a mock lovers and ran his hands down their form with a excited glee.

"You're perfect, I knew you were from the moment I laid eyes on you- So pretty and talented. And best of all you haven't even stared at my nose! I hate it when people do that, yet you never did... My name is Buggy.. Captian Buggy. I wanna hear you say it-"

He said happily, locking eyes with them again with his twisted smile. A unnatural yet beautiful smile on his lips as he stared at them.

"B-Buggy.. Captian Buggy"

They whispered back which earned another kiss to the cheek. His eyes racking their form as they sat there, one pasty on their chest, the remains of their costume with the added satin ribbons. He couldn't help but get aroused by their appearance again, chuckling darkly as he stared at them. Without saying a word he grabbed them roughly by the shoulders and pulled them off the bed, Setting them on their knees as he sat infront of.

(Y/N) Looked up at him with wide eyes, noticing the large tenting in his pants as he sat infront of her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he wanted.. Buggy chuckled as he admired (Y/N) for a moment longer before undoing his pants- Cackling as his as his cock sprung out of his pants like a spring.

"Pop Goes the Weasal~!"

Buggy cock like the rest of him was large and unruly, the head a deep pink with a base of deep blue curls. (Y/N) looked up at Buggy again, seeing him smirking at their expression of seeing this part of him.

"Don't be shy now~"

(Y/N) nodded softly, giving a small tug on the restraints for a second of hope however there was no give so that was that- Leaning forward they parted their lips and took Buggy fully into their mouth.

Their nose brushing against the unkempt blue curls as they carefully ran their tongue over the organ. Buggy grumbling out gentle moans as he stared down at them, his pupils blown up with desire as he watched them. Laying kitten licks down his cock and coming back up to gently suck on the tip of his cock, While it felt delightful Buggy was greedy and of course- Wanted more~

Grabbing their hair harshly and smiling as he slammed them down fully on his dick, feeling them squeak and gag in shock. Setting his own pace as he roughly forced their head to bob at unnatural speeds, Moaning out roughly as he did so. His hips starting to thrust into (Y/N) mouth, enjoying the sound of the mild gagging and noises escaping (Y/N).

He looked down and saw with joy the beautiful mess he had created- (Y/N) face was red with tears, messy mascara running down their cheeks and their hair a tangled mess in his gloved hands- But it was their mouth. Oh those dirty lips wrapped around his cock staining it red with lipstick that damn near made his cum right then and there.

Yanking them off his dick he watched them struggle to catch their breath, a delicate mix of his precum laying on their tongue and mix. While (Y/N) looked up at him with those watery eyes that made him burn. In his eyes they looked like a masterpiece.

"Fuck~ I don't think I can last long with you looking like that~ Guess we gotta rush the performance Baby!~"

He cackled as he quickly pulled them up to their feet by their hair smiling at the sob that broke through them. Quickly he pushed bent them over the mattress, Smirking as he made sure to tighten the satin wrist restraints and smiled.

(Y/N) panted hard, they felt their face pressed into the plush bedding of the mattress and their eyes widened as the peices started to fall into place. Glancing back as they saw Buggy undoing his shirt fully and Tossing it to the side, As well as taking off the bandana that held his hair up. Letting it fall lose down his back with a relaxed sigh before meeting the gaze of (Y/N) again with a crooked smile.

Like the survival instincts kicked back in they scrambled against the bed trying to squirm away and kicked their legs wildly. Buggy cackled and presses his lower half against their ass essentially pinning them- Using his legs to trap their own against the wooden bed frame.

"N-NO! Wait-t!"

They sobbed out but Buggy was quick in grabbing their hair again and yanking their head back.

"Now Now Now let's not make a fuss!~ I do think we've already crossed the line of no return"

He said with a laugh, using his free hand to grab their ass and pulled to give himself a nice view an access. Forgetting he hadn't removed the thong from them yet- however no matter!~ he used his thumb to move the fabric aside and grinned, 'So smart!' Ignoring the squirming from the performer begging and trying to escape he spit at the open hole before him with a grin before positioning himself.

"Good enough~"

Purring as he started to inch his way in. (Y/N) choked back a cry as they left him inch his way in, He was too large- Unfairly so! It felt like they were being split in half. That toe curling pain that borders on pleasure shot through their body as air seemed to evade their lungs.

"That's it... Fuck"

Buggy growled out from above them, Grunting as he slammed the last of himself into them having grown inpatient to wait anymore. His hands left their hair, instead positioning themselves on their hips, feeling the dig of his gloved hands into the soft bruised flesh. With barely any time to fully adjust he started to move-

A deep growl rumbled through his chest as he started to speed up the time of his thrust, (Y/N) felt hot like liquid fire was being drawed from their core from the forced pleasure pulling our rugged breathless moans as if they had been made for that sole purpose. A broken chores of moans and groans leaving their bruised lips at Buggys ruthless pace, Buggy moaned out loudly as he felt them tightening around him his hips starting to shudder.

(Y/N) babbling out incoherent moans and whimpers at the harshness of the thrust and the feeling of a orgasm so close to breaking through them.

"F-Fuck Fuck!"

He roared out, Slamming himself harder into them with a thundering speed. Pressing his chest against their back as he panted in their ear, his blue locks edged with sweat sticking to his forehead and fanning around (Y/N) as they screamed out moans- fresh tears running down their cheeks staining the mattress below as a forced orgasm ripped through their form- their body quaking from the force of the orgasm that shot through their body- Buggy grunting loudly as he slammed himself into them fully and came.

Buggy panted hard afterwards, Releasing their bruised hip and pushing how blue locks from his face. A series of panted curses leaving his lips as he pulled out of (Y/N) marveling at the damage he had done. Seeing them limp and barely functioning he scooped them up and placed them fully on the bed, Spreading their ass again to marvel at his claim.

(Y/N) laid there panting, The ache between their legs making it impossible to get comforble especially with Buggy's rough fingers rubbing against their abused hole. The world started to fade to black from the exhaustion from the day but Buggy's voice echoed around them with his twisted chuckle.

"I can't wait for tomorrow's show (Y/N)~"

Tag List-

@honey-eyed-munson

[hey-august]

Hey! For the prompt list can I request 4 and 18, buggy being jealous.

anon, thank you for this 🥵🥵

Prompts: “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” “I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” Warnings: NSFW, NC17, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, all parties are consenting adults Word count: ~538

you brace yourself against the bathroom wall as buggy rams into you at a brutal pace. your hips are already bruising under his harsh grip. each thrust leaves you breathless and dizzy.

“i don’t like people touching what’s mine,” he hisses from behind.

you work at a bar. you serve alcohol and customer service - that’s how this job works. sure, the clown pirate is one of your favorite customers, but some patrons have frisky hands and you can’t prevent them from groping your ass. apparently, the irony of wandering hands is lost on the guy who ate the chop-chop fruit.

“m’sorry, c-can’t help it” you groan.

“can’t help it or you like it? do you like it when strangers touch you?” his anger is louder than the wet slap of his hips against your ass.

you don’t answer, unsure if he’s talking to himself or to you. a hand in your hair pulls your head back. so he does want an answer. you stay quiet.

buggy presses his weight into you, bullying his cock deeper into your body. he tugs your head back further, causing your body to arch more and your ass to press against him harder. the position pushes you to give the depraved answer that you wanted to keep to yourself.

“-like it,” you choke out weakly. “i like it if th-this happens after”

buggy inhales sharply, not expecting that answer. a surge of anger and arousal creates a toxic combination in his body. he releases the hold on your hair and his hips snap against yours, returning to their aggressive pace.

“fuck off, i’m going to fucking ruin you,” he grunts in a voice dripping with honey and poison.

buggy bites off one of his gloves and slaps your ass with his bare hand. you wince at the sharp pain. not enough. buggy paws at your ass, kneading viciously, before slapping it again. better, but it’s still not enough. he repeats the attention until your ass cheek is an achingly bright red. until you whimper and wiggle when his hand caresses your skin, anticipating the next assault.

finally satisfied that you won’t be able to sit without thinking of him until the next time his ship docks here, buggy wraps his arm around your waist and leans his body into yours.

“g-gonna come” he mutters. he places a hand where you’re craving stimulation and applies pressure. no movement, just pressure. a shitty invitation for you to join his climax, if you could.

you squeeze your eyes shut and try to will your orgasm to arrive before his. it’s close, but not close enough. his cock throbs as it shoots his cum deep inside. he finishes seconds before you start, pulling away at a crucial moment. crying out in frustration, you reach down and replace his lost touch with your own hand.

buggy stands back and watches as you frantically fuck yourself while slumped against the bar’s bathroom wall. his softening cock twitches when you call out his name as your orgasm hits. your body shakes and trembles. his cum drips out of you, falling onto the filthy floor. he’s still annoyed, but he can’t help admiring you - a beautiful, ruined, mess.

(prompt list)

[vendetta-if]

Hello!

Just wanted to say the IF is amazing, i just spent 3 days straight binging it and loved every second. Please ignore if it has already been asked but what is all the RO's preferred genre of music? And favourite songs if they have any?

Keep up the amazing work!

Thank you for the kind words! And I just wanna say, your ask is the final push for me to actually scour through most of my songs on Spotify and finish assembling playlists for Rin, Santana, Skylar, and Jackal 😆 But I had so much fun doing so and I'll keep adding more and updating all of the characters' playlists as I discovered more new (and old lost) songs that fit them.

I have the links to their spotify playlist which contain a mix of their favorite songs and some songs whose lyrics fit them. I don't think I can link too much stuff in one post unfortunately, so I'll make a separate post to announce the rest of the characters playlists later on 😁But I'll try to link one song that either perfectly encapsulate their music taste or whose lyrics fit the character--or at least a song that they'd enjoy listening to.

Also, I basically have to split up my own music taste and favorite genres among all of my characters and I'm running out of genres 😭 But as for your question, I don't think I've answered something like that before--at least not in detail.

Sorry in advance for the long post (I just love being able to gush about my characters and music 🤭)

Ash

Ash enjoys quite a wide variety of genres, but mostly, their go-to are genres that are more energetic and/or aggressive. So, think like Rock, Phonk, Dubstep, Trap, Drum and Bass, Metal, that kind of stuff. But usually, they listen to songs whose vibes and/or lyrics kind of fit the mood they're in at the moment.

Also, fun fact, they did have some kind of an emo phase during their angsty and edgy teenage years 😂 It wasn't really too apparent (like no, they didn't have that typical emo hairstyle or wore those iconic eyeliners), but they just relate to quite a number of the lyrics of songs that can be considered to be emo anthems.

The song that fits the genre they like to listen to and the lyrics also matched their feelings and obsession love for MC is "So Sick" by Johnny Goth.

"So Sick" - Johnny Goth

Rin

As the child of a classically-trained musician, Rin mostly enjoys classical and instrumental music. One of their favorite instruments is the piano and they used to enjoy learning to play it. Maybe in the future, when they won't be so busy anymore, they can pick up their piano lessen again...

Also, they tend to gravitate towards more soothing and calming songs in general because of the headaches they usually got after using their power too much or to see to far into the future. So most of their playlist is filled with instrumental songs, either piano, cello, or violin, or a combination of those.

As for the song that fits them, I'd say "The Belt of Faith" by Jung Jaeil kinda fits their vibe and the gravitas they carry (Yes, the main soundtrack for the film "Parasite" and yeah, I can see the irony 😂 )

"The Belt of Faith" - Jung Jaeil

Santana

Santana loves that tinge of old-school songs that they were often exposed to whenever their parents listen to in the radio. So, the genres they enjoy are synthwave and retrowave songs 😎

As for the song that encapsulates their favorite genre and whose lyrics fit them quite well is "Gloria" by The Midnight.

"Gloria" - The Midnight

Skylar

Skylar is a pretty chill and upbeat person who loves and enjoys nature, so their favorite genres include those upbeat summer music and Indie/Alternative Folk music. They also enjoy the occasional pop songs.

As for the song that fits their vibe and desire to just fly off and be free is "Get Away" by Surfclub.

"Get Away" - Surfclub

BONUS

Luka

Luka enjoys Electronic music, including Phonk, Post-Punk, and Alternative/Indie. So, yeah, quite a variety of genres. But for one song that fits him the most, from the lyrics to even the title itself is "Everything Black" by Unlike Pluto 😆

"Everything Black" - Unlike Pluto (feat. Mike Taylor)

Jackal

Just like Luka, he also enjoys Electronic music, especially Phonk. But unlike Luka, he sometimes loves Hip-Hop music as well. One of the few songs that kinda encapsulate both of those genres and fits with his personality is "Heartless" by UNAVERAGE GANG.

"Heartless" - UNAVERAGE GANG

[vanishingcherry]

hi! would you be able to do the “ now you want me like i wanted you” prompt with lando? thanks <3

MEMORIES

send in a prompt from this list with a character/driver and ill write a blurb!

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

You had always been involved in the world of racing, specifically Formula 1. From a young age you would watch the races, cheering for your favourite team and favourite driver, something that changed almost everyday depending on your mood.

When you found out that Lando, a boy from your school was interested in the sport, you immediately became best friends, spending all day, every day talking about racing. You stayed best friends for years, but nothing could stop your growing affection for the boy.

Your confession had been, admittedly, poorly timed. It was right before, arguably, the most important season of his life thus far. He had finally made it into F2, and needed to spend all his time on racing. But his tone and his words were something you were never able to forgive, you'd think being best friends with someone for years would at least guarantee a certain degree of respect.

"Y/N I can't! This is important to me and I need to put all my focus towards racing, I don't have time for your feelings."

"I get that Lando, I'm not saying you have to ignore the championship. I just wanted you to know how I feel, its not like I expected you to act on it immediately."

"Look. I don't want you, not now not ever. Get the thought of us out of your mind, the thought of me out of your mind. You're a distraction, thats all."

The memory of that fight was always unwelcome, but you weren't going to let a boy, especially Lando, ruin your love for racing. From that day forth, you cast him out of your mind, separating your love for the sport from the memory of him.

You had been invited to a Grand Prix by Alex, who you had met when you were younger and attended races with Lando as support. The two of you had stayed good friends, and you were excited to watch a race in person.

You were stood in a corner of the garage, watching the mechanics finish up last minute preparations when you felt a hand tap your shoulder.

"Lando." you said, spotting the bright orange suit after turning around.

"Um hey Y/N. Alex said that you were here, and I was wondering if we could talk?" He stutters through the question.

"We don't have anything to talk about."

"Darling I- I'm sorry, about what I said. I've missed you every day since then and I just want you back in my life. I was hoping we could talk and figure things out?"

"And thats why you waited 3 years to talk to me again?" Your voice is cold, not wanting to let any emotions slip past. Your feelings for Lando had long since disappeared, and all you felt for him now was contempt.

"I didn't know what to say or how to say it, love. But when I found out you were here I knew I had to talk to you."

You sigh. "Lando, I was your best friend and you treated me like shit. Its fine that you didn't feel the same way I did, but you didn't have to call me a fucking distraction and stop talking to me."

"I know and I'm so sorry. I swear i'll make it up to you I promise, I just- I have to tell you something. I love you, I love you so, so much and I need you in my life. Darling I- its killing me that I hurt you and I need a chance to fix this. Please, just one chance." The desperation is visible in his voice, eyes pleading.

"Now you want me, like I wanted you?" You could almost laugh at the irony, saying the first words that came to mind at his confession.

"Yes." Lando replied instantaneously, knowing what you were thinking, and knowing that he deserved it.

He had messed up, and he had spent hours thinking of things he could do to get you to forgive him. But as years passed, he grew more and more scared of talking to you, regretting his decision more than anything in the world when he realised just how much of an impact you had on his life. Just how much he missed you and just how much he loved you.

"I know I fucked up, and I'm willing to do anything to fix this. Anything, I swear."

"I think its best if you go back to your garage now."

His face fell at your suggestion. Some part of him had stayed optimistic, and he could feel that warmth slipping through his fingers. "Wait! Please, please Y/N. I'm so sorry, you aren't a distraction, you're the only thing I want, the only thing I care about."

"Lando, maybe at some point in the future, we can be friends again. But I don't think I could trust you to that level again." Your voice has a sense of finality to it, and Lando knew it was the best deal he could get. He did mean it when he said he wanted you to be in his life. If this was the way you wanted, then so be it.

He nodded. "Okay. Whatever you find comfortable. I- Just please know that I'm sorry, and that I do really love you."

He left the garage after saying that, silently walking back to his own. It was his fault, he knew that. He would just have to make do with the memories.

[changingplumbob]

Delphine Hubert - SFS

For @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants Simply Lilac BC. Her entry is below but since she is cc free (you will need the below packs for everything) I'm putting her up for everyone because I like sharing.

EDIT: Omg I forgot to mention she has a dolphin tattoo on her ankle because that's one of the meanings of her name Delphine!

Shay: Okay Delphine, finishing touches in CAS and you're all set! We just have to do the intro questions. Normally the watcher asks them but since I gained the paranoid trait I get to help her out

Delphine: Alright, fire away!

Shay: Tell me all the boring stuff I'd need to steal your identity. Name, birthplace, job and so on

Delphine: *laughs* I'm Delphine Hubert (the t is silent). You've probably picked up on my accent. I was born in France, stayed there through high school. I live in Chestnut Ridge now though, trying to start up a nectar business, being an Expert Nectar Maker is my aspiration, but I don't seem to be able to gain skills in anything.

Shay: Oh I had that! Don't worry, it passes

Delphine: I'm bisexual and biromantic. I'm a... forgive me English is my second language... cisgender woman? I use she/her pronouns

Shay: Oh my gosh me to! Are you human? Wait, what is this question? Of course she's human

Delphine: I am human but trust me, vampires are out there. Several nice ones live in France you know

Shay: I did not know that, weird. Moving on *checks notes* tell me some more about you. How would others describe you? How would you describe you?

Delphine: I'm doing my best to be a Rancher, really get in to the life of Chestnut Ridge. I ah, I am quite... what is the word... Clumsy? Oui, clumsy. I am also Creative, I enjoy making things you know?

Shay: So why are you applying? To you know get sent to the middle of nowhere

Delphine: *laughs* You are asking this? That is irony, no?

Shay: I know, I know, I'm still finding sand everywhere!

Delphine: *chuckles* Well Lilac seems like a- an impressive woman. She has done a lot for her short number of years, no? And très jolie.

Shay: Gossip time! Tell me some things you like, in others, to do, that kind of thing

Delphine: My favourite colours are green, brown, blue and purple. For fashion I like the country and rocker styles. I enjoy flirting and gossiping, and find I like others who are idealist or spirited. I really enjoy nectar making, and gardening which you need for that. I have always wanted to try horse riding to, and I enjoy cooking.

Shay: And what about things you dislike?

Delphine: I do not enjoy dressing in polished clothes. I find it hard to get along with others who are egotistical or emotional decision makers. I do not enjoy when other complain, or when they... deceive? Deception? Lie! I don't like to fish. I also haven't enjoyed bowling or snow-boarding. I also do not enjoy playing video games.

Shay: Oh girl you got some cute outfits! Alright, what's on your gift shortlist?

Delphine: For me or Lilac?

Shay: *checks* To give Lilac

Delphine: Oui. Ah... I am a classic, will go with some flowers. Likely rose. She is a music lover? Maybe guitar, cannot fit a piano in my inventory. Then... oh she likes photography, oui? A nice camera

Shay: *sighs* time for the awkward questions... will you be comfortable flirting with other contestants?

Delphine: I plan on flirting with Lilac

Shay: Oh I am with you, go for the goal right! But say there are some other cute ones around...

Delphine: I may flirt with other contestants but I cannot see myself woohooing with them, or any NPC's. My goal is Lilac, no?

Shay: How are you with changes? Gaining new traits or- becoming an occult? Seriously?

Delphine: *laughs* I am open to changing my personality but I do like being a human so I will choose to stay human

Shay: Final question! Are you comfortable- oh come on! Seriously?

Delphine: There is problem?

Shay: It asks if you're comfortable flirting with the host, Araminta. She's got a guy! The one I was going for, don't tell me she's forgotten Dodo already. Anyway, this is about you, not me

Delphine: I would flirt back but not initiate flirting

Shay: Good answer. Now make sure you don't tell her we're friends or she's bound to penalise you for it. Good luck Delphine!

Delphine: Merci

[rott1ngbra1n]

First off! I wanna go ahead and drop some fun art stuff I’ve been doing as I’ve been watching Dragons Rising season 2, which I’ve been loving!

I did a version of Arin before but it wasn’t my favorite so a redo! More AlleyCat stuff and obligatory Cole, because I love him.

I do have more Ninjago Art I want to do (Still need to finish that Cole and Morro friend piece-) and I have some other fandom art I also want to do, but I’ll explain more under the cut as well as why I’ve been gone or a bit less active everywhere. This is optional you do not have to read under the cut!

TW// Transphobia

For those unaware I am a trans man, I go by a different name: both online and IRL (online for privacy’s sake), I also work as a barista due to being a college student and needing to save money for moving away from my own transphobic parents. That’s a whole other story. But at work there was a coworker of mine who was consistently transphobic towards me whenever we worked together. It had been going on since June of last year (The irony of it starting during pride month made me and my friends laugh) but it escalated after I returned from New York, so much so I had to go to management.

Myself. Management had been informed by my best friend (who also works with me) about it and was told it was “gossip”. Ok. Sure- So I informed management of the new incidents and was told I had options, the first being to have a meeting with me, the transphobe, and my manager to discuss the issues. I said no so my manager went to the DM to find another solution. To give even more context, the transphobe couldn’t even be transphobic to my face most times it was always told behind my back to my best friend.

That’s how I knew my manager talked to the transphobe one on one, cause the transphobe right after the meeting went to said best friend. Telling her “not to tell me as she didn’t want to start drama” Cool, I feel so cool. I was very mad, went back to my manager with it, had that meeting with myself, the transphobe, and manager. Where my emotions were downplayed and the transphobe said she had “never interacted with a trans person before and didn’t know what she said was wrong.” OK.

SURE.

After that we assumed it was over, my manager made an incident report, but it didn’t stop the transphobe still kept talking behind my back to others. Despite me talking respectfully of her. More context all the talking behind my back happened at work while on the clock. After a while I just went about my day, then Ethics and Compliance called. They spoke to everyone involved, including me and I relayed more about my testimony. They said they would be investigating and I assumed it would take a while, then finally. I was informed that the transphobe was in fact fired.

This whole situation, along with other personal stuff going on with me, caused so much stress. To the point I tended to fallback into habits I had thought I fixed, mainly regarding my physical health. Even at points hating myself for just existing and having been born wrong.

I’m thankfully doing so much better now and have recently gotten diagnosed with Autism, something I knew I had but didn’t fully understand for a while. I’ve been getting better existing in a world knowing the people that are my blood hate me, knowing that eventually, I will never be able to be loved by my parents or sister. I have friends and coworkers who support me and I want to support other people in this community.

With that said I’m back to making more art! I’m building a portfolio for animation and to intern next year, I also will be trying to post more animations to here when I finish them! I also will still be active in the Ninjago fandom, I’ve loved this show since it came out in 2011 y’all can pry it from my cold dead hands-

But I do want to make more original work, I want to do more Star Wars work, QSMP art and animations, and more Musical Theater art whether it be Broadway or Indie productions. I hope people enjoy what I make, especially some of my original characters as I’ve gotten to work on Cybernetic more thanks to my animation class. You’ll see more of it as we go!

Thank you if you’ve read this and thank you for supporting me!

[daenakills]

His dark eyes.

Tom riddle x fem!reader

part 1

part 2. i will make more so don't worry this is kind of short. english isn't my first language so lmk there's any mistake. this is for fun.

You calmly wrote down your assigned potion's homework. Slughorn always found a way to assign tasks that, although they seemed difficult at the beginning, ended up being easy, and you even got a reward at the end. That was your favourite part.

The door opened suddenly, revealing a slightly upset Tom, which wasn't strange but at the same time, when you consider it, it was. He usually didn't show it so openly, you realized you knew him completely, or at least that's what you thought.

“I notice you're upset, my love.” Anyone who heard this phrase that you had addressed to Tom would have thought that it was just a loving nickname, but he knew perfectly well it was just irony. “Has something happened?” In response, he slowly turned his head to look at you.

“Where are my books?”

“I don't know, probably in your room. I highly doubt they're here. Besides, I cannot understand how you manage to get into the ladies room.” He ignored your question, and started searching through your clothes and things. No matter how much you could tell him to stop, you knew he wasn't going to, so you didn't even try. When he finished searching for what he wanted, he left without looking back.

It was depressing. It was depressing knowing that you were being used, and you cursed the day you decided to confess to Tom Riddle. Likewise, it had been almost a year. You could have had such a nice future, maybe fallen in love and married one of your classmates, but no, you decided to confess to the psychopath. You hoped that one day you could travel back to yesterday and return unscathed. Curled up in your bed, you allowed yourself to cry, and your voice was never louder.

Already in the dining room, with your mind blank and already recovered (not completely) from your little cry, the girls were trying to find conversations with you. You were wondering why. Usually when they talked to you, it was to get information from you about something that interested them. In fact, before becoming Tom's girlfriend you had never talked to so many people, apparently they didn't find you interesting. You kept questioning yourself internally what they wanted from you until one of them finally made her intentions clear.

“And… we were all wondering if you've had… you know, with Tom.” You were stunned. He had not prepared you for that type of question, and not in a thousand years would you have been able to answer it. The others who were around told that girl, Martha, to have a little more filter when she talked about those things.

The truth was that you hadn't had your first time, not even with Simón, he died before they could make that breakthrough. Everyone in your class had already had relationships with their boyfriends, and it was logical that those who were single (and those who were not also) were interested in knowing how good the beloved Tom Riddle was in bed. Obviously, you couldn't tell them that you felt an extreme repulsion towards the man who was your boyfriend, since that would completely damage their plan to deceive the professor. That prompted you to find him and ask him a question.

“Do we really need to stick with the plan?”

You had taken a while to look for him but when you found him he was talking to Professor Slughorn about a topic you didn't know about. Tom said goodbye to Slughorn, saying that he was going to attend to his beautiful girlfriend. You wondered if he was the teacher Tom talked so much about.

“Obviously, we must continue with the plan, dear.” He said with that voice that used to drive you crazy. “Why are you asking now? Is there another Simon out there?” He laughed sarcastically, you hated that laugh since you knew it wasn't genuine, it was genuine mockery and that was another topic.

“I just think everyone already understood that you love, you don't need me any more.” While you were saying those words you fixed your eyes on the floor, your gaze did not connect with his, it intimidated you to look at him. His penetrating gaze activated all the alarms in your body, telling you to leave, that something bad was going to happen. But you stayed to wait for his response.

“Okay. Let's do it, let's finish it. I can easily find a replacement. Do not think you're the only one. You're not, you're just another one of the bunch, who they are just going to use and throw away when they get what they want from you. People like you will not survive in the world I am going to create.” Your eyes were flooding with tears, you didn't want to blink since you knew that if you did, the sea of ​​tears would come to light. “Stop crying, you know I hate seeing you cry!” He grabbed your face and crushed it in his hands, “You look horrible when you cry, you look weak, and you lose the only notable quality you have.” He finally let go of you. Adjusted his robe and left, leaving you alone with yourself.

Already there, in your state, you went to your bedroom and sank into the sheets.

The morning of the next day was no better, in class everyone couldn't stop talking about how you and Tom had broken up. Your assumption was that Tom had broken the news to them, and you were right. What perhaps hadn't occurred to you was that he had subverted the story slightly. He had said that he had broken up with you since you were unfaithful with Simon a while ago, but that he refused to accept it. Now, he was the victim of the story, the poor guy who refused to accept that his girlfriend was cheating on him. And you, anyone who dared to deceive him.

Nobody talked to you any more like they did when you were his partner, apparently they no longer found you interesting. That depressed you but not enough to cloud your common sense that told you that it was better to be alone than in bad company. And it was true. Even though no one appreciated you and everyone hated you, you managed to make it to the Easter holidays, even though it seemed like a short time, you needed to go home. You were excited to finally be able to go home freely.

With your bags already packed you were heading towards the exit when Tom arrived at your door.

“Hello.” He said, sitting on your bed as if it were his house.

“Hi.”

“How has your life as a social reject gone?” He smiled arrogantly.

“Well, the time alone has served me well to think and reflect.” You weren't going to let him see you badly, let him see you vulnerable once again.

“I imagine that once again you are going to stay here, I know perfectly well that you don't like being with your parents.” You knew perfectly well that he had already noticed the suitcases, but that he says it to bother you.

“I'll see how I deal with it.” I can't stand being in this castle any more, I'll ask my parents to give me classes at home, I can't stand being at Hogwarts any longer, you thought.

“You're not leaving Hogwarts, you are not going to study in your house,” he said firmly as he got closer and closer to you, until he caught up with you and choked me, pushing me against the nearest wall. “You know, I've let you be alone for a while because I think you need it, but I swear, you're never going to be free of me. Never. Do you understand me?” You nodded repeatedly, waiting for him to release you. When you had got out of his grasp, he picked you up and threw you against the bed, forcing you to give him your arm. You had already let him do whatever he wanted so that he would finally leave you alone.

And at that moment, with a knife that you had no idea where he had got it from, he marked your left arm, leaving a line of blood on you.

You could tell he was going to do something else if he hadn't been interrupted by the knock on the door. Alarmed that he would be upset by the interruption, you decided to stay silent and not respond.

“ Are you there? I need your help to fill out some paperwork!" Oh, god, it was your classmate Samantha, she didn't usually talk to you about those things, but it seemed like she did now.

“Don't even dare answer.” Tom murmured putting his hand over my mouth once more.

After a while Samantha stopped knocking on the door and left. It was then that Tom finally let go of you.

“You're going to finish your school year whether you like it or not.” You were left dumbfounded in your room, you were trying to understand Tom's outburst, but you couldn't. Couldn't understand how someone felt a pathological need to ruin lives.

You grabbed your suitcases and decided to spend the Easter holidays at home. Where he couldn't reach you, or well, that's what you liked to think.

[cassandrarebornanew]

Thanatos

Continuation to The Misfits

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, mentioned violence

Fluff at the end :D

1.7K words

——————————————————————————————————

“Ya miss me?”

“Mother fuc-“

Gaz smacks Soap around the back of the head with a wing, reminding him with a look that, while this may be a bar, it was by a hotel pool, so profanity seemed like a bad idea. 

“What Jonny means to say is, what are you doing here? I mean, we knew you weren’t dead dead, but it’s been like a month and a half.” Kyle did his best to be a bit more diplomatic than Jonny, but the accusation seeped into his voice nonetheless.

“Sorry bout that gents. I had to check in on the others first. Thought it would be… better, I suppose, to give them some closure. We obviously aren’t working together anymore, as you probably know, but it was still very necessary. How have you all been?”

By this point you’ve sat yourself down next to Price, cheap beer still in his hand. He and Simon haven’t said a word yet, just stared at you. 

Simon replies from under the balaclava that he has on, despite it being around 30 degrees, and far too humid. “We’ve been fine.” He turns away slightly.

If you weren’t you, you’d have winced at the coldness. But, because you are you, you shrug it off. It’s a typical reaction, one that you’ve seen far too many times - enough times to understand that it means I need space.

“Well that’s good. I’m glad you’re all doing okay. I’ve contacted Laswell already and filled out any remaining paperwork, so when your holiday finished you can get back to doing your thing. Sorry to interrupt you gents, I’ll get going.”

Just as you turn, standing from your chair, Price’s hand snaps out and grabs your wrist. 

“I have questions.”

“Will you accept ‘I’m not answering that’ as a response?”

“Only to some of them.”

“Fair enough.” You sit back down. Looking at the four men opposite you, you can practically see the questions swimming in their eyes. Simon goes first.

“How many forms of magic can you do?” An interesting question, said in a rather interrogation-like tone.

“I’m not sure, haven’t really kept count. I’ve never not been able to do any kind of magic when specifically asked for. Except raising the dead. I can reanimate corpses, sure, but not restore someone to their former selves. Once the spirit is gone, that’s it. But honestly, only limitation I can think of.” 

They blink at your honesty. While unexpected, they clearly are going to take every opportunity they can get to gain more information on you.

“What’s your real name?” Gaz this time.

“It doesn’t exist anymore. Due to a language barrier and linguistic drift, the name has dropped out of use. I never bothered to pick another one.”

This continued for a while. You of course didn’t answer all of them, dancing around the real answer or flat out just refusing to say. The irony was, they really didn’t get that much out of you, all things considered. Finally Jonny couldn’t contain himself. 

“Tell us the story of when you first manifested your magic. How? When? How did people react?”

There’s a moment of silence, and they think you aren’t going to answer. Then:

“I actually remember the day I first manifested my magic. I was a child, probably around five years old. This girl who lived not too far from me, her father had found a shiny stone in the mines, and given it to her. It held no monetary value, but I remember finding it so fascinating. I was jealous too. I sulked off after she wouldn’t let me hold it, angry in the petulant way only children can be. I picked up this pebble, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. And with all the weight of my insignificant desire of having something, I screwed my eyes shut and wished that it would become a beautiful blue stone, just like that village girl had. When I opened my eyes, image my surprise when I found that it had worked. A roughly cut jewel, with air bubbles trapped inside, and the most lovely way of reflecting light. I was so happy. I rushed home to show my mother, only for her to react with fear. Magic was, of course, highly stigmatised at that time, and for her only child to show such potent magic to be transmuting materials at a young age? Horrifying. She made me promise not to show my magic to another living soul. I kept that promise, kept it and kept it, until I realised that either way I was going to get caught. I had married, of course, and had a child. Her name was Rosaletta - or at least, that’s the closest you’ll get. Beautiful girl. Pride of my existence. Then I stopped aging. At some point, I realised that I had not changed a bit after my late twenties, and it was starting to show. I tried my best to cover it up, but it was too late. I wasn’t the only one to realise.”

You pause, swallowing the lump in your throat that has suddenly made it very hard to speak.

“They burned us all. The villagers, I mean. They barricaded the door and set our house on fire, with the three of us still inside. I was the only survivor. My untouched magic erupted out of me, laying waste to the entire village. I don’t remember that part. Just lying there, in the rubble, next to the charred body of my daughter, and the ashes of my spouse. The only other thing of ours to survive the fire was that blue jewel that I had gifted my daughter on her eighth birthday. I thought it would have kept her safe, somehow. I don’t know. Wishful thinking. Anyway, I kept it. Have it to this very day.”

You reach into your jacket pocket and pull out the jewel. 

“No matter where I leave it, it always reappears. It even got stolen once, only to show up on my kitchen table three hours later. Kinda like Percy Jackson’s pen-thing. Funny right?”

You place it on the table, and rock back on your chair, wallowing in awkward silence. 

“Sorry guys. That’s all you’re going to get out of me. Full stop. I’m telling you these things because my instincts and my magic tell me I can trust the four of you, and they’ve never lead me wrong before. But don’t try to push any further ok? It’ll get you nowhere.” More awkward silence. “Anyway, I’m going to get a drink. God knows I need it after that.”

They look at each other, shocked. That was probably the most they ever heard you talk in one go.

“Holy shit. Holy -“

“Yeah we heard ya the first time Jonny.”

“Simon, holy shit is about right. He can say it a few times, I think.”

“What do we do now Price? I mean, they’ve told us something that’s clearly personal, come to find us when they really didn’t need to. Where do we go from here?” 

“I don’t know Gaz. I don’t know.”

When you come back, you see that the boys have clearly reach some kind of decision. Sitting down, you knock back half your glass of whisky in one, and scoop the gem back into your pocket.

“We aren’t going to tell anyone this.”

You laugh. “Of course not. If you tried, you would find that you’d suddenly forgotten how to speak. I don’t tell people this stuff without a safeguard.”

“Okay… um, but regardless, you can trust us. And, um, we… we -“

“Oh for fucks sake. We want you to join our team. Work with us. You’re good, and we liked working with you last time. And if you don’t want to work with us, we got an extra bed if you want to crash with us for the rest of the week. That’s how long we got until our holiday ends. Decide when you want, but hopefully before we get back, yeah?”

“Oh. Thanks Simon. Yeah, I mean, I got some time to kill. I’ll stay with you then, and make a decision if I’ll join you long term later.”

“Cool. Okay. Anyone want to swim?” 

Ten seconds later, Gaz has been chucked into the pool.

“What’s wrong mate? Thought yer wanted ta get yer feathers wet, aye?”

Splash 

The Scotsman follows the harpy. Then Simon and Price find themselves pushed in by an invisible force. Spluttering and complaining, they start to swim over, intent on yanking you down with them. So, instead you chuck yourself in, spraying them all with highly chlorinated water. 

“Fuck you mate!”

And for the first time in a long while, you laugh.

Staggering back to the hotel rooms, drenched and drunk, hanging onto each other for support. The alcohol hasn’t affected you nearly as much, so you’ve somehow got to round up a dragon that shoots fire each time he sneezes (he sneezes a lot while drunk), a ghoul that keeps accidentally phasing through walls, a werewolf that seems to want to bite every single thing he sees, and a harpy who’s wings will not retract, and seem intent on knocking everything over. Finally opening the door, you start to take the boys to their beds. Jonny in the middle, Kyle surrounded by blankets and pillows, Simon in the darkest corner, and Price right by the door. You see that one of the beds, the one under the window, is free, and you slowly sink down onto it. Letting out a groan, you close your eyes. It’s always a little tricky to acclimate to a new body, especially with so many things happening. Just as you’re about to fall asleep, something bit, heavy, and fluffy collapses onto you.

“Fuck!”

Then you realise what’s happened. Jonny, the sweetheart he is, has decided to keep you company.

“Don’t… don’t go. Stay. Friend…” 

You chuckle gently, before petting his head. 

“Don’t worry Jonny. I won’t.”

Then another slightly less huge person joins the cuddle. Kyle drapes his wings over you, before Price pushes his head into the crook of your neck. 

“All of you? Where’s Simon?”

“Right… here.”

He’s pulled out of the shadows behind you and buried his face in your hair. And there the five of you lay. Surrounded by a group of seemingly very cuddly drunk hybrids. You chuckle gently again. 

“I guess I’m staying.”

Tag list: @harley101399

[kimium]

It's that time of the year again! I always love writing a little year fic review for myself. I find it fun to look back on my writing and reflect. So, here it is for 2024. All my statistics comes from AO3.

My Fic Review for 2024

Statistic Stuff

My “Top Five” fics by hits:

Just a Normal Citizen (Not a Dimension Traveler) - Twisted Wonderland

Longing, Action, and Desire - Twisted Wonderland

Obviously We are Engaged VS I Wonder if Silver Likes Me? - Twisted Wonderland

Silent Hypocrisy - Twisted Wonderland

Warming Up in Snippets (2) - Multi-fandom

My most bookmarked fic: Just a Normal Citizen (Not a Dimension Traveler)

How many words I wrote in 2024: 253,827

Question Stuff

What was the most surprising thing about writing in 2024?

The most surprising thing about 2024 was finally writing a co-written piece again. After a long hiatus, I ended up writing a fanfic with one of my dearest friends @m34gs. What started as a joke over our tea time turned into me going "You know what? We're going to write this."

I am so grateful to my friend because the fic wouldn't exist without her. I'm still very uncomfortable writing Sebek and was certain I couldn't do an entire chapter in his perspective. Yes, I could have written both chapters and stuck to Silver's perspective, but I felt writing in Sebek's perspective was important for several reasons. The biggest one being the dramatic irony Sebek's perspective provides.

Oh, and speaking of my friend, I'm still super shocked our Sort of Saw Franchise AU fics are doing well. Like, we truly thought a year ago when we started it that maybe five people if we were lucky would like it. We are truly so appreciative of all the support and love!

2. What was the most enjoyable to write?

Without a doubt my most enjoyable project of the year is my Twisted Wonderland fic How to Become a God (Get Possessed). It has been a long time since a fic took me by the hand and didn't let me go as I wrote it. Truly, this fic is my passion project and while it isn't very popular, it's in my top 3 favourite fics of 2024.

3. Which fic is the most underrated?

Oh, my Honkai Star Rail fic that's in my Warming Up in Snippets (2) collection. Which is such a shame because I really love Honkai Star Rail, but writing for the fandom has been hard.

4. Which fic(s) had something “cut” or had an idea that never happened?

-As I said last year in Just a Normal Citizen (Not a Dimension Traveler) I had some violent scenes planned that never got written. However, now that I officially started my snippet sequel How to Balance Dimension Hopping (Do Your Best), I hope I can rectify this!

-In Riddle's chapter for How to Become a God (Get Possessed) I had some extra scenes planned. They were mostly him with Trey and Che'nya but they felt too similar in tone. I cut them in order to be a bit more straightforward.

-Kalim's chapter almost had an entire overhaul to it so I could write a bit more Jamil being suspicious. However, I wanted his betrayal to be a shock for Kalim and figured too many suspicious scenes would push the limit of Kalim's naive nature.

-For Vil's chapter in the God AU I almost wrote a bit more Neige and Vil scenes, but I never got around to it.

5. Which fic(s) did you want to write but didn’t get around to?

-Still haven't written established Vil/Rook who high key flirt with other characters they are attracted to. I am still going to write this with them flirting with Trey but I also want to write them flirting with: Jack, Cater, Deuce, Ace, and Yuu. This will be a 2025 fic... I hope.

-I want to finish up my Platonic Yandere AU. Though, if I am speedy I may be able to finish it up early in the new year.

-It is a little late to the year, so it's fine I never wrote it, but I finished playing both AI: Somnium Files games. Perhaps I'll write a fic or two for the series as I quite enjoyed the games.

6. Any WIPs that never got published?

That SDR2 fic I started in April/May. Since I never finished it, I never posted it.

7. Share a snippet from a WIP fic?

Here is a snippet from the next instalment for the Platonic Yandere AU!

"Crowley liked running Yuu around doing various tasks but when it came to payment he was on the stingy side. It was usually a bit of a pain considering Yuu had to feed Grim, their adorable glutton, but it was do-able. Even though countless times Yuu was tempted to talk to any one of their more financially well-off friends, they never mustered the courage to do so. Someone like Kalim would help them without a second thought but taking without giving anything back sat sour in the back of Yuu’s throat."

8. Which fic was the one you were most “excited” to write?

I was so excited to write my God AU. You all have no idea. I was also very excited to finish Just a Normal Citizen (Not a Dimension Traveler). It was a year long project and I'm so pleased with the result and love the fic has received.

9. Fic Hopes for the New Year?

I want to try writing for one new fandom next year. I've been in a bit of a Twisted Wonderland mood and while I love it and will continue writing for the series, it's nice to change things up.

I also really want to write another SDR2 Komahina fic. They are truly my loves and comfort ship. I haven't forgotten about them and I want to revist their dynamic soon.

I also want to write more co-written fics again. While it is hard to juggle and manage, they're some of the fics I cherish the most.

Anyways, here is my little review. I hope you enjoyed reading it! And if you have anything you want me to expand on, feel free to send an ask!

Also, the other years I never tagged people but this time I think I will! I tag: @a-little-harmed-shinra, @m34gs, @someobscurereference, and @shreedle!!

[homestuckreplay]

The Fatherly Gent’s Daunting Text of Magical Shaving and Almanac Japery

(page 542-555)

8/27/2009 Wheel Spin: Dramatic Irony Verdict: Dad’s Note Sadly Qualifies

8/28/2009 Wheel Spin: Captchalogue Lore Verdict: Captchalogue Card Within A Captchalogue Card Within A Captchalogue Card

FINALLY we examine the contents of John’s dad’s safe. John sure likes to take his time with these things. We see the contents before the note, but in my mind the note definitely reframes why Dad might have locked these things away – he wants to give these things to John, not hide them from him, but he’s waiting until John is ‘a man.’ He defines this by physical strength instead of age, maturity, or presence of facial hair, but also by curiosity and the prankster’s spirit. Someone else could be physically able to lift the safe, but never think to do so.

Colonel Sassacre’s Book – As p.543 suggests, this is likely the accidental weapon that caused Nanna’s death, and so this object encapsulates the Egbert family values. Clowning and tomfoolery are highly encouraged, but serious, difficult topics don’t get discussed openly, they get locked away, and communication happens indirectly through notes and pie throwing. This is 50% Dad being uncomfortable with emotions in a way typical of cis men who grew up in the 20th century, and 50% Dad wanting John to have a pure, idyllic childhood away from the realities of the world. I would bet 413 boondollars that Dad locked this up after Nanna’s death and bought John his new copy at the same time, so that John could enjoy the lighthearted pranks of the book without it being tainted by death.

The Fatherly Gent’s Shaving Almanac – This is also likely an heirloom that Dad used to read himself. If Colonel Sassacre’s was originally Nanna’s, this may have originally been Grandad’s. Dad is making some assumptions about John with this one. The first is that he’ll want to shave, even though plenty of people have facial hair by choice. The others are that he’ll be a ‘father’ and a ‘gent.’ The idea that John might not want kids, or might not be a man, doesn’t occur to him. Dad’s vision is that John will grow into exactly the same kind of adult that he is, and possibly that Dad’s dad was too. But this book is also Dad admitting that he had to learn and practice his skills somewhere, showing that he’s a regular human instead of the Eternal Dad who came fully formed from the dad factory that John clearly sees him as right now.

Newspaper clippings – OKAY WHAT THE FUCK. Something weird’s going on here. The clearest article is from Monday, April 13 of either 1970, 1992 or 1998, and the ‘downpour of meteors’ could have happened at 4.13am. Hear me out. The mentions of ‘Local Burb’ (Local Sburb?) and the loss of life being brushed off by authorities means that the people behind Sburb aren’t making their first attempt at causing the apocalypse. It’s their most successful attempt by far, but they’ve been practicing for some time, and are rich and powerful enough to pay off the authorities into covering their tracks. Dad is a baker, and a different clipping says ‘Crocker Facility Leveled.’ Dad developed an interest in meteor news after the factory for his favorite baking company was destroyed by one, and that’s why he collects clippings – keeping them in something that might be strong enough to survive a meteor strike. He’s made some progress towards figuring out who or what is behind all this, but hasn’t finished the work. This is why he showed John Deep Impact and Armageddon as a kid, so that John would have meteors on the brain, and be ready to carry on Dad’s investigative work at some point in the future.

02-49-13 – This safe code was definitely chosen for a reason, but it’s not obvious. It contains a 4-13 (with 4+9 equaling 13) but I’m not sure about the 02. If it was a date, February 49, 2013 would be March 21, 2013, which is shortly before John’s 17th birthday. However, my actual theory – based on this safe being for John, and the fact that John’s birthday is in Dad’s Serious Business screen name – is that 02:49:13 is the time of day (to the second) that John was born. Currently imagining Dad gazing down at his baby son for the first time and thinking ‘I gotta get the time, this is gonna be important later.’

In other news, we learn that a blank captchalogue card is 00000000 (answering @tenaciouschronicler's question) while a card holding another card is 11111111. This is a simple binary option of ‘card or no card,’ and we also see the two straight lines of holes that are punched from the 11111111 code. These facts suggest that the captcha codes make sense (unlike a lot of actual captchas) and that both the codes and the hole patterns can be deciphered and manipulated, which is exciting both for what John could accomplish, and for giving fans something to really dig into.

John Egbert would be nothing without Rose Lalonde. He fully launched his PDA – arguably his most important possession right now – into a yawning void of unknowable darkness, all for the sake of captchaloguing a captchalogued captchalogue card, already kind of a silly thing to do. He got fucking lucky with the Sassacre manuever, and did not earn his ‘pesky urchin’ status or his +5 man grit. I question the line ‘From now on it will probably go without saying that you'll nab any grist lying around without making a big fuss over it.’ on p.542 - can this really go without saying? Can we really give John this much credit?

I love this kid so much, but it really feels like he’s speedrunning growing up and using cheats for character development, with his sylladex, his imp combat and his getting into the safe. He’s not actually ready or able to handle any of these things, not even thinking to move away from the giant hole gazing over the abyss before he puts things into his TWO CARD SYLLADEX, but he’s got computers and somewhat more capable people holding his hand. I am thinking again about Rose’s prediction of hackers, and what might happen if John and Rose are cut off from each other in Sburb, and how John might deal with that.

It’s a hard truth that being a kid often sucks because of how little control you have over your life, but being an adult is really hard and takes a lot of practice, and being a teenager often means sitting at this uncomfortable divide. And it’s literally John’s first day.