#To be fair they were all likely just too frazzled to care

[thejolteonmastertj]

I love how in fanfics we always had the Chain use those funky nicknames as aliases at least but no, here they all straight up all wrote their actual name, between the 9 of them in like 5 different languages…

… and most of them seem oblivious to how confused that innkeeper must be lmao no wonder Wars had to bribe the dude.

[copper-16]

You Can Do This

Mapi for the life of her, cannot find Bagheera. The cat is in a place where the Spaniard and Norwegian least expect her to be.

(a/n: this is a mix between fluff and just a little bit of angst that is easily soothed. This is kind of introducing a theme about Mapi's specific struggles with becoming a parent, that is a topic I want to talk about and explore more in future stories about these three. Also, wanted to write some Bagheera/Elena content for @acornsquish, ofc :)

Mapi really, really hated waking up her wife when she did not need to. 

Ingrid was notoriously grumpy in the mornings, especially before she had her coffee, so the thought of getting the Norwegian up and knowing that she would likely be annoyed with Mapi for the rest of the day was not an enticing thought for the brunette. 

But the Spaniard also didn’t know what to do, because for the life of her she cannot find Bagheera anywhere. 

Mapi prided herself on knowing the cat well. She had been here before Ingrid, before Elena, and she had been the Spaniard’s ever since she was just a tiny kitten. The defender loved the cat with her life, and she was sure that she knew her well enough to know all of her hiding spots. 

The nook behind their kitchen table, behind the big armchair in the living room, under the TV in their bedroom. 

So when Mapi got up this morning to take Bagheera to the vet and hadn’t been able to find her, she had checked all of those hiding spots first. She was sure that the cat was somewhere in one of those, simply hiding from the crying from Elena that would start up soon enough when she awoke. 

The poor cat tolerated the baby, but she wasn’t exactly a huge fan of her either. Mapi and Ingrid were careful to keep the two relatively separated, not wanting Elena to accidentally pull at Bagheera’s tail or something like that. 

And for the most part, the cat stayed away without having to be told. She wasn’t a huge baby person, evidently, and Mapi couldn’t really blame her. She hadn’t exactly been bringing a bunch of babies home in the past, to be fair. 

But Elena wasn’t leaving, and neither was Bagheera, so the two learned to coexist peacefully, away from one another. 

Bagheera wasn’t in her cat tower, or in the nook behind the kitchen table, or by the armchair, or their bedroom. In fact, Mapi couldn’t begin to find the cat in the whole damn apartment. 

As the time of the cat’s vet appointment drew nearer, Mapi finally broke down, deciding that she needed to wake Ingrid up to help her look. 

“Ingrid, Ingrid!” Mapi whispered harshly, slightly shaking the Norwegian’s leg from her spot at the foot of the bed. 

“Mmm, go back to sleep Maria,” Ingrid mumbled sleepily, turning back into her pillow. Mapi swallowed thickly, looking around as though the cat would suddenly appear, and then squeezing her wife’s leg harder when she didn’t. 

“Ingrid!” She tried again, and apparently her voice was panicked enough that she got the dark haired woman up, the Norwegian blinking several times before looking up at her wife, who appeared more than a little frazzled. 

“What? Is something wrong?” Ingrid was suddenly very awake, wondering if there was something amiss with the baby. The next words out of her wife’s mouth are not, however, what she expects, given how panicked the Spaniard is.  

“The cat is missing!” Mapi hissed, and the dark haired woman’s whole face scrunched in confusion. 

“The cat is what?” Ingrid repeats, her words slightly slow as she struggles to follow the brunettes train of thought. 

“The cat is missing!” Mapi echoes, looking around again. 

“Mapi, she’s a cat. She’s not missing, she’s somewhere in this apartment,” Ingrid reasoned with far too much sureness for someone who wasn’t abreast of the current situation. 

“No, I’m telling you! I’ve looked in all of her usual spots, and she’s not anywhere! You need to help me look, I have to take her to the vet,” Mapi insisted, not waiting for Ingrid’s answer before she walked out of their room, her steps hurried but quiet, well aware that their six month old baby was still very much asleep. 

Ingrid let out a heavy sigh before she slipped out of bed, running a comb through her hair and brushing her teeth before she joined her wife in her quest to find their cat. 

Together, the two Barcelona players scoured the living room and kitchen, trying to find the black cat. When they didn’t find her there, they moved into the dining room, and then their bedroom. It was Ingrid who finally decided that they would check the one place that they were sure Bagheera wouldn’t be in. 

Elena’s room. 

The baby was six months old, and entirely the light of their lives. 

Bagheera’s life? Not so much. 

But Ingrid drags her wife down the hallway, despite the Spaniard’s insistence that there is no way Bagheera would be caught dead in there. 

The Norwegian pays her no mind, pushing the door open and walking into the room. She looks around, at the changing table, the rocking chair they have in her room, in the closet. 

But it’s Mapi who finds the cat first, her jaw flopping open in shock. 

“Ingrid,” she whispers urgently, moving toward the crib. And sure enough, there was Elena sleeping peacefully, with Bagheera wrapped around her. The black cat looks completely content and happy, more than willing to just sleep with the baby. Elena’s little fist is resting on the cat’s belly, and her face is turned toward Bagheera, even in sleep. 

The entire cat’s body is curled around their baby, her body wrapped around the baby’s head, her head laid gently on the mattress. 

Even the cat’s tail is laid over the baby’s body, resting lightly against her little belly. It’s the cutest thing Mapi’s ever seen in her entire life, and she quickly takes her phone out to snap a picture as Ingrid joins her at the crib side. 

“Who knew,” Ingrid hums softly, her voice affectionate at the sight in front of her. The two appeared entirely enraptured with one another, and Mapi felt bad about disrupting their peace. 

“I should take Bagheera, her appointment is in a bit and I don’t want us to miss it,” Mapi said forlornly, but she reached down to grab the black cat regardless, knowing that they really did need to go to the appointment. 

Bagheera limply allowed herself to be lifted, her eyes opening as her owner lifted her from the crib she had been occupying. She allowed herself to be maneuvered with little fuss, but the disruption was less than ideal for Elena, apparently. 

The baby began to fuss almost immediately, missing the comforting presence of the cat that had come to be a common presence in her crib at night, unbeknownst to her mothers. The little baby reached out for the cat instantly, looking for fur and warmth. Mapi placed the cat on the ground before she returned to the baby, her face knitted in concern at the clear unhappiness on her daughter's face. 

The Spaniard looked over at her wife with big, worried eyes. She made no move to reach for Elena, despite the fact that she was now crying. 

“Ingrid,” she prompted, looking down at the baby with an expression akin to fear. The Norwegian softened, knowing why Mapi was so concerned. 

Ingrid had been the one to deliver her, and subsequently the one who stayed home with Elena the first few months of her life. Becoming a mother had been natural to Ingrid, and she was quite good at it. She knew how to soothe, and swaddle, she had since she was a young girl. The Norwegian had slipped into the role of mother seamlessly, unlike Mapi. 

The Spaniard had not grown up around babies at all, really. It wasn’t something she was accustomed to or used to, and Elena was practically the first baby she had ever handled, apart from the odd ten minutes when she had been passed a baby who belonged to a distant relative at a family reunion or wedding. 

Throughout Ingrid’s pregnancy, Mapi had spent more than her fair share of fretting about what her relationship with her daughter would look like. Would she be close to her, would she come to understand what her baby needed, would they bond. She wasn’t the one to carry her child, but that didn’t make her love Elena any less, right? It didn’t make her any less hers, did it? 

“You are her mother too, Mapi,” Ingrid reminded the center back, not because she was chastising her, but because sometimes those were the words the defender needed to hear. 

She was ashamed to admit it, but it had been six months and she still wasn’t sure that she felt connected with her baby. When Elena cried she didn’t know what to do like Ingrid did, she just panicked. The baby didn’t look like her, or feel like hers. She saw so much of Ingrid in her daughter, and she loved that very fact, but she also ached to feel close to her. It felt like she was playing pretend, like she was a fraud. 

But she wasn’t, and Ingrid was always there to remind her of that fact. 

“I am going to get changed and take Bagheera to the vet. Why don’t you spend some time with her this morning?” Ingrid suggested, noting the panic that immediately flashed across her wifes face. She placed a comforting hand on Mapi’s shoulder, her words sure as she spoke once again. 

“You can do this Mapi. She is a baby, not a nuclear bomb. Hold her, check her diaper, feed her and snuggle with her. I know you know how to do that, and you can do this. I believe in you,” Ingrid promised and it took her a moment but Mapi nodded eventually, her face still a little worried, but holding more confidence now after the pep talk from her wife. 

The center back went to get a bottle prepared while Ingrid changed, getting Bagheera into her carrier before she returned to the kitchen, back to her wife. 

“If anything goes really wrong, you can always call me,” the Norwegian soothed, kissing the Spaniard sweetly before she slipped out the door with their cat, leaving Mapi alone with their daughter. 

With renewed determination, the brunette went back into Elena’s room. She quickly changed the baby’s diaper before giving her a bottle. But even after that, and being burped, the little baby was still fussy. 

Mapi bounced her gently, unsure of what to do. The baby just wouldn’t settle, and she found herself beginning to panic, not knowing what the next step was in trying to calm her. 

“Okay, what would Ingrid do? What would your Mama do, mi sol?” Mapi asks the little baby, receiving nothing but a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a cry. She holds Elena tightly to herself, feeling on the verge of tears, the overwhelming feeling in her gut being one of failure. 

This was her daughter, and she could not make her feel better? Could she not soothe her own child? 

She felt like a rotten parent. The brunette looks down at the little baby, at the tear tracks that run down her cheeks, at the wetness of her little eyes as she stares up at the defender. She feels a renewed sense of determination to make the baby feel better. It hurt her heart to see her upset, and she wouldn’t stop trying to make her happier until she had exhausted all of her options. 

“Come on,” Mapi decides, walking out of Elena’s room and back into her own, sitting down on the large bed. She carefully places Elena on her back on the bed, ignoring the shrill shriek that she receives in response, in favor of first stripping her own shirt, and then her daughter out of her little onesie. 

Mapi lays back against the bed, sitting up against the headboard. She settles Elena on her chest, and is genuinely shocked by the speed at which the little baby settles, melting into her mother as her cries subside almost instantly. The baby's body is warm against her own, and her little limbs relax until she is completely limp and cuddled against the Spaniard. 

The brunette brings her hand up to rub soothingly over the baby's back, and Elena lets out a relieved puff of air at the feeling. Mapi feels herself exhale a breath she hadn’t realized that she was holding as her daughter snuggled into her. 

Elena waves one of her arms, making a little grabby fist at Mapi’s other hand that was not currently on her back, and the Spaniard brings it up, allowing her daughter to grasp her pointer finger in her tiny fist, holding it tightly to her chubby body. 

“I’ve got you, mi sol,” Mapi promises, her voice thick as she drops her head to place a kiss to the crown of Elena’s head. As much as she is worried about bonding with her baby, she knows that there is no shortage of love that she feels for her daughter. 

She would happily go to the ends of the earth for her little girl, no matter what it took. She can’t imagine not loving Elena, not having her in her life. And it’s moments like these, with her daughter completely relaxed into her chest, completely content, that remind Mapi that she can do this. 

Progress is not linear, and neither is being a parent. At the end of the day she loves Elena, and she would do anything for her safety and happiness. 

And that is enough.

[smolvenger]

First Lady (President Loki x fem! Reader blurb)

Summary: It's not easy being in the spotlight as First Lady of the Nation. But your President's Husband knows what to do when your online critics take it too far.

Or "Who did this to you?" with President Loki.

Word Count: 1318 (blurb time)

Warnings: SMUT! 18 + (wall diddling, whee), online bullying and harassment (inspired from my own personal experience, whee) mention of sex. Angst and then fluff and hurt/comfort. I steal ideas from Ana Huang and Sadie Kincaid. Bad grammar. I had writer's block with this one and was stuck so not as revised and polished as I could be bc I just wanted this done, I'm not Shakespeare or Donna Tartt okay? If I miss a warning, please inform me at once. Don't victim blame those affected, Report it! If you see something disturbing or triggering that isn't tagged that I missed, then that is on me to take accountability for it and it is your responsibility to report it!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

Dick-Tionary: The exact, more explicit smut begins at “Open wide, my dear.” and ends at "He gently let you down."

Something about the internet gave people anonymity and with that came power. They could say and do what they wanted…even the vilest things.

Comment after comment. Ding after ding on your phone. There were posts about how you were wrong. Irresponsible because they didn’t like your cause of supporting raising minimum wages. Even under posts where you were talking about the importance of your cause, so many people went “Well, to be fair-” 

You couldn’t help but look at more about you.

Stupid. 

Ugly. 

A pig.

And those were the tamer ones. 

The constant bullying and demands from these people. You thought you were qualified for this. That you knew your way around tenfold. Dolled up in your nice dress and makeup…and here you were, crying. Wanting to throw a fit. Wanting to scream and call them vile, horrible things. T sob until you couldn’t breathe and crash down, heels, pearls, lipstick and all.  No better than a little girl playing dress up. Not an adult who handled everything with strength and grace. Not a First Lady of an entire country.

You should be strong. Thick-skinned. “Don’t take it personally” was the advice everyone gave you. Every single time. Without fail. But at this point, it just numbed in your head. What did that even mean? It meant nothing. Like “thoughts and prayers” maybe at once it could help, and has helped but now…it was just a phrase people threw out that fixed nothing.  And how could you not take a comment beneath your post telling you to not take it personally?

You found yourself stumbling onto the Oval Office adn there he was- your husband in folden horns. A crowd of suited men around him.

He noticed your state. You had no time to compose yourself. But he raised a hand and their chatting voices silenced.

“Everyone! Leave- now!” he ordered, snapping his fingers.

They ducked and left. A few careful eyes at your frazzled, pensive state.

He went over and looked at you. Then he put one hand and put it under your cheek so you faced him. His voice was soft, yet subtly angry not at you, but at your tormenters. 

“My darling…who did this to you?”

You sniffed. Then you answered him.

“All of the comments…online…I know I have to. It’s part of the platform. A First Lady has to have social media…but…but…”

He wiped a tear. Then you leaned onto him. His cold buttons grazed your cheek and he let you cling to him. Let yourself break down.

“What am I even doing? Why should I say or do anything online? They just want to tear you apart and spit you out! And they just want a lady who looks pretty and does or says nothing. Even when I wear anything, they tell me I look like cat vomit. I can’t win whatever I do, Loki. And the split second I try to do anything, say anything they…they..”

“Give me your phone,” he said.

You handed it to him. From his pocket, he took out a chip and attached it to yours.

“Firstly,  I’m taking this away from you for now. You will get a new one for communication. I will not have my wife and First Lady miserable.”

 He set the chip in.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping track of them. We’re going to track them down. They’re going to regret every word of it…here…”

He sat down on the chair in the center and tapped his lap.

“Sit.”

How could you resist?

He set you on his lap. He pulled out his personal phone and immediately was making calls. You leaned into him, snuggling him close. 

“Yes, Grant, I want you to hire a Social Media manager for the First Lady. Have the comments filtered and in need of approval before posted. Also, look for security. There are several people we must hunt down. They have threatened the security of the first lady. The tracker is on her phone, we’ll analyze the data on the comments and find each and every one of them- they cannot go on without consequence, don’t you think? Freedom of Speech is overrated anyway…hurry along, do it now- no- Grant, I don’t care if you’re about to get a blowjob from the Black Widow this second, I want you to do it!”

He ended the call.

He held you. And then kissed you. You leaned in more. How handsome he looked- his suit fixed up. His smirk was confident, rakish. You found you were straddling him, his hands on your hips. As you kissed again, he pushed his tongue inside.

“Oh…Loki…”

He raised your skirt some, to feel your bare leg.

“I feel if I make you cum, that would make you feel better…wouldn’t it?”

He slid a hand and saw you weren’t wearing underwear at your hip bone. 

He tilted his head, his voice even quieter. 

“And you followed my one little rule, too. Good girl.”

He held up the phone one last time, pressing a call.

“Barton, cancel my meeting for this hour. Reschedule it. Emergency, shall we say.”

Before the man on the other end could ask why he hung it up.

He smiled at you.

“Open wide, my dear.”

Keeping your legs open, he adjusted them to wrap around him. He backed you up to part of the wall. Not caring about the curtains of the window. Not caring about the security cameras.

 In fact, let them watch if they want.

He kissed you intensely, his tongue inside and out. Tasting you. He lifted your skirt to your hips, backing you up. You hung onto him, shaking with wet, desperate need as he undid the zipper of his trousers.

“I’m going to fuck you. Fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk and live the next week curled up in the lap of luxury, how does that sound?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Please- fuck me, Loki-”

“I’m the President-” he corrected.

“Fuck me, Mr. President-” you quietly begged.

He entered briskly. You let out a loud gasp. But you were already so soaked from him, it was clear. He kissed you again. One hand going to move one of your legs to hook around his waist. 

He only slowed down so he could speak, his eyes intense. 

“Yes, moan louder. I want them all to hear- I don’t care who hears- or sees. I want them-to- to know you’re mine- My little doll. My little toy. My First Lady- my wife-”

Your breasts bounced lewdly as he picked up speed, thrusting in and out of you. He pounded you so much, the portraits shook. You held onto his shoulders, and then his horns on his head. He was grunting like a madman.

He fucked hard, his hand digging.

“I want you to cry out, say what I am as you cum. I am Loki, I am your president, I rule you- say it- say it, fuck, I’m cumming-I’m going to-say it.”

You cried his title, your throat scratchy. Pleasure breaking on you, as well as on him.

He gently let you down. You adjusted his dark curls. He smoothed your dress, though your legs wobbled. The bliss of ecstasy makes you forget what even happened just an hour ago.

“Now…how do you feel now?” he asked.

You took in a deep breath, the blood still rushing and the world spinning.

“Better…” you replied. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist. But he traced a finger down your spine, into your skirt.

“Good. Because I’m going to order some…gifts for you tonight. For you to wear beneath these dresses and skirts and blouses. And I want us to have dinner- just us. And when I rip off your clothes, that lace will be on you. Because, my dear, once this next meeting is done…we are far from over with this.”

[aziraphales-library]

Hii!! I want to thank you guys for recommending and going thru the work to "provide"?

Anyways thank you so so much for helping

Do you have any fics about Crowley getting a dangerous job or smth (like a spy or bodyguard etc)?

I would amuch do appreciate it if Aziraphale could be in it too someway. Also I don't really mind if it's a human pov or not.

Sorry for such a long message, bye bye! <3

Hello! Here are some fics in which Crowley has a dangerous job...

fell in love with the fire long ago by midnightdragons (T)

The EMT was a handsome older bloke, with soft, curly blonde-white hair and warm blue eyes that were soft and crinkled at the edges. His cheeks were round and flushed with red, and he looked rather frazzled, but in a way that somehow looked so utterly gorgeous. White gloves were pulled tightly over his hands, contrasting the dark color of his uniform, and spectacles balanced on his nose, slightly fogged from the smoke nearby, though they were, for the most part, out of range from the smoldering church. “Hi.” Crowley, who was caked in grime and smoke and debris and who was wearing a dirty, unwashed firefighter’s suit and who was barely able to speak in a voice louder than a raspy, hoarse croak, thought that perhaps he had died and gone to Heaven. Would’ve believed it, too, with this angel before him, if the adrenaline wasn’t starting to wear off, giving way to dull, throbbing pain in his skull. “M’Crowley,” he introduced himself, rather stupidly. “Anthony Crowley.”

Crowley is a firefighter; Aziraphale is an EMT. A First Responders Human AU one-shot of their 'first' (whumpy but fluffy) meeting, inspired by artwork (link in A/N & artwork included)!

A Walk on the Wild Side by Sani86 (M)

Crowley has been working as a game ranger at Engadini Game Reserve for... well, more years than he cares to count. A new manager threatens to upset everything with his plans to turn Engadini into a prime eco-tourism destination. But the new chef he appointed for the lodge might just make it all worth while. Meanwhile, Aziraphale - the new chef in question - can't stop staring at the lanky red-headed game ranger who moves like a snake. Unfortunately, romantic entanglements of any kind are strictly against the rules, and could cost them both their jobs. How long can they fight the undeniable attraction between them?

This Way For Up by brutumfulmen (M)

Called onto the scene of a cave exploration accident, Crowley struggles against increasingly grim odds to save a young scout trapped deep underground. All while keeping everyone, from a nervous troop leader to Crowley himself, calm in the meantime.

For His Eyes Only by AFrenchFanWriter (M)

Anthony J. Crowley has been an MI6 spy for 10 years, completing successful mission after successful mission under the guidance of his quartermaster, Aziraphale Fell. But this life is starting to take its toll on him as he is getting older; and when, one day, his past comes back to haunt him, Crowley realizes that it might be time for him to hang up his gun and face all the things he has left unaddressed… (Yep, it is basically a James Bond/Q AU!)

The Infernal Bodyguard by Santillatron (M)

Alistair Zira Fell is a popular author. Loved by everyone he meets. Well, almost everyone. Someone is trying to hurt him, and right now, he needs a bodyguard. Anthony J. Crowley is the best, although he doesn't work with celebrities. He has three rules. He never gets too close, never stays once the job is done, and Never Gets Involved. But this isn't a thriller. This, is a love story.

The False and the Fair by Princip1914 (E)

Growing up in the shadow of West Virginia’s Eden Mountain, Aziraphale Wright always expected to work for the family coal mining company. Anthony Crowley, the son of a down-and-out miner, was going to become a pilot and leave town forever. Now, thirty years later, neither of their lives have gone as planned, and an unexpected inheritance brings them back into one another’s orbit. Aziraphale hopes that they can move beyond their shared past, and a high school arrangement that ended in disaster, but he has secrets of his own that threaten their fragile reconnection…

- Mod D

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

May I make a request? How does yandere Ashley Graves react when she finds out that her darling is getting married to someone else? Like an arranged marriage thing.

You may!

TW: Drugging, Kidnapping, Forced Kiss, Yandere themes

Yandere!Ashley Graves x Arranged Marriage Reader

It wasn’t fair

This wasn’t fair

Ashley thought arranged marriages died with the fucking bubonic plague but nooOooo!

No, no they just had to be a thing still- somehow!

And given her luck, it came for her beloved

First she screamed, then destroyed her and Andrew’s room in her frustrations, and then like most of her fits, had a huge cry within the rubble

But crying wasn’t going to get you back to her

Crying wasn’t going to kill that hussy who took you

Most people would give up, cut their losses and accept that a future with you was not possible

….but Ashley Graves was not most people

You paced around your room- well, technically it wasn’t your room- it was the hotel’s- but still your room regardless.

Your parents had chosen this place to have the wedding, the place having a vast array of rooms beyond the lobby downstairs, most ceremony halls for occasions such as this. Weddings. Your wedding.

The shockwaves hit you all at once again, making you stumble back til you were sitting on your bed. Your hands clutched the sides of your head, only semi aware to not mess up your hair. You were getting married, and to a person you barely knew. It was a struggle to write your vows for this occasion- what were you supposed to say?!

“Hey stranger, we’ve only known each other for three months and I can count the number of dates we’ve had on my hand but- I’m happy to be marrying you! Yaaayyyyyy, this totally won’t backfire!”

You managed to schlop some cheese fest of wedding vows together, best not ruin this for your future partner. Though frazzled, this probably wasn’t what they wanted either. No, this was a decision made by your parents for their benefit- not your own.

You could just walk out. Leave quietly but- no. You can’t do that. You can’t embarrass your future partner like that. They didn’t ask for this. Neither of you did.

Your wallowing was interrupted by a knock to the door, causing you to perk up and look over. The knocking continued, clearly whoever was on the other side was too impatient to wait 5 goddamn minutes. You stood up with a huff, running your hands over your face as you trudged over.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” The knocking continued, and you almost threw it open- your glare fading as you looked at who it was.

Standing behind the door with a disheveled looking cleaning cart was one of the hotel’s maid staff. The lower half of her face was obscured by what looked like a surgeon’s mask, her black hair spilling over her shoulders as she awkwardly stood with a toilet scrubber.

“Uhh- cleaning?” She waved the scrubber a little, her voice slightly muffled by the mask.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “I- Can this wait? I’m still kinda…in here.” You gestured to the room behind you, but the maid took that as a welcome rather than a ‘fuck off’. She pushed the cart past you, nearly running over your feet.

“Nope! Can’t wait at all! You’re the last room on my route and I want my break now!”

You watched as she began working on your room, tossing your things off of your bed without care to half hazardly fold it. With a sigh, you stood back up, checking to see if your shoes were scuffed, “Fine, whatever…I won’t be in here much longer anyways.”

You shut the door, your back to the maid as she worked away. You wanted to be alone, to have some quiet…but she didn’t exactly take the hint.

“You’re….one of the people getting married today?” She inquired, not hard to deduce given your outfit and general lack of pep in your step.

“Yup,” you grimaced, “And I’m so- happy…”

Why bother hiding your disappointment, you didn’t care anymore. You also probably would never see this woman again so who cares if you’re being depressing. Rustling behind you caused you to perk up, and you spotted a glass in the corner of your eye. You turned, outstretched to you was a glass of water.

“Here,” she offered, “Maybe a drink will help.”

You went to take it, before retracting your hand with suspicion. Where did she get that from?

Sensing your hesitance, she sighed, “Relax, it’s not dirty cleaning water or whatever- it’s one of the complimentary bottles.”

Easing your worries, you took the glass and drank. The water was lukewarm, feeling almost thick in your mouth. Warm water sucked, but it was better than nothing. She wasn’t lying, you did feel a bit better….if not tired now.

No longer fueled by dread, the stress from this situation must’ve overtaken you- leaving you drowsy and tired. You set the glass down on the nearest surface, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hands.

“Here,” the maid took your arm and led you to the bed for you to lie down on, “The ceremony’s not for a bit…how about you rest your eyes, and sleep off all this stress.”

Her voice was- comforting almost, lulling you further into sleep as your vision became blurred. Though obscured, you could see the maid looking down at you, removing her mask and brushing her hair back with her hand. Her pink eyes stared directly into yours as she smiled.

“Don’t worry…this’ll all be over soon..”

You don’t know when you came to, but when you did- everything felt worse

Your head hurt, your body hurt- almost like you had been folded in half for a long period of time- your clothes were a mess, and to top it all off

You were on longer in your hotel room

No, no you found yourself in a completely new room- one different to you

You were slouched on what looked to be a bathroom- laundry room combination. In front of you was a shower head with a few products in the small basket suctioned to the grimy wall. Slightly obscured by the wall next to you was a sink with a hose shoved into it, which went beyond your vision allowed you to see.

Looking beside you was a toilet, which you were handcuffed to

Your cuffs jingled as you yanked your hand, attempting to either break the handcuffs or the pipe you were cuffed to. It was rather futile though, as you were still tired from having just woken up.

“Oh, good, you’re awake!”

In a rather cheery tone, you spotted someone walk out from behind the wall- a cheerful smile on her face. The maid from the hotel…except- this wasn’t just a maid…

“Ashley?….” You narrowed your eyes to get a better look.

“Bingo baby!” She shot you a finger gun, crossing closer to your slouched body and kneeling down, “Happy to see me beloved? I’m happy to see youuuu.” She booped your nose, to which you flinched at in response, “You have no idea how much of a pain it was to drag you all the way here.”

You had- so many questions, none of which you could coherently sort through before shouting out, “My wedding!”

“Oh? That,” Ashley glared to the side, “Don’t worry about that silly thing. You didn’t want to get married anyway, you told me yourself.”

She had you there- but you still weren’t too keen on being kidnapped!

“How-“ you shook your head to collect your thoughts, “How long was I out?"

"The dose I gave you shouldn’t have knocked you out for long- I’d sayyyyyyyy, you’d been out for about 24 hours at least.”

24 hours. Oh god.

Your eyes widened as all of this hit you, you- you had to get out of here! Your hand yanked at the cuff, to which Ashley promptly grabbed. Her nails dug into your skin, making you wince.

“Fucking chill okay!” She snapped, “Look- don’t even try getting out. This- this is for your own good.”

She relented her grip, moving her hand from your wrist to interlock her hand with yours. She shifted her stance, now overtop of you. You moved your head back to keep your distance from her lips as they got closer, though the wall behind you limited your escape.

“Relax sweetheart..” she ran her hand down your chest, her eyes as lulling as ever, “You didn’t want to marry that hussy anyways, so why are you fighting this?” Her lips just barely ghosted above your own, “Maybe now….you can marry someone you actually want to? How’s that sound?”

Before you could give your objection to this ceremony, Ashley silence with a kiss. Your protests muffled against her lips, and the wall preventing you from pulling away.

The kiss felt like an eternity, the jingling cuffs eventually stopping and your protests dying down as you relented and returned the kiss. Her lips felt soft, but her teeth were sharp- practically cutting your lip.

She pulled away, a wide grin planted firmly on her face while you remained dazed and confused.

“You may now kiss the bride!” She giggled dopily, pressing her forehead against your own. In unholy matrimony.

[cherrychilli]

Do over

Part 3 of Caught

Steve Harrington x Hopper! Reader smut, AFAB reader

Summary: Hopper finds out that you’ve been dating Steve Harrington in secret and you’re both left to deal with the aftermath of your father's unfortunate discovery.

A/N: This little series was so much fun to write. Thanks to everyone who liked, reblogged, commented and asked to be tagged. Hope you all enjoy the conclusion!

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, breeding kink, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, pussy spanking, slight daddy kink

Wordcount: 4.8k

Not proofread

“Hopper’s daughter? Are you insane? Like, actually, clinically insane?”

The full body shock is immediate as Robin begins to pace rapidly back and forth, running her hands through her frazzled hair disbelievingly while her eyes double in size and her mouth hangs agape.

It was big news. Steve knew that and if it wasn’t such an urgent problem he would have allowed her more time to wrap her mind around his bombshell of an admission.

“Yeah yeah- enough of that- what do you think I should do? I mean, I can’t just go over there without a plan. I need to map something out. And quick! before he thinks I’m trying to hide”

But it’s no use, his impatient plea falls on deaf ears because she’s still reeling.

“A dead man- I’m talking to a dead man right now”, she rambles to herself before turning on her heal to begin pacing in the opposite direction.

Steve sighs defeatedly, realizing that he can’t rush her into a more coherent state.

This time with more patience, he attempts in a softer tone like one might with a particularly anxious toddler, “alright, why don’t you just take these in the back- get this all out of your system and then come back and help me, please”. He places a stack of newly returned tapes in her arms and directs her towards the back room with a hand pressed gently against her back. Somehow, she manages to find her way despite her unfocused gaze and her repetitive utterances of “I can’t believe this – I just believe this” while shaking her head from side to side.

Getting caught with you, especially in the way that it had happened, by your father, the Chief of Police was...not ideal. But Steve was determined. He cared for you and he needed to make it clear to Hopper that you weren’t some girl he was using for sex.

Steve returns to the counter and fishes out his wallet, in desperate need of a pick me up.  Flipping it open, a smile tugs at his lips as he looks down at a picture of the two of you together. Your ‘first date’. The picture was taken at the photo booth two months ago when you’d ran into each other at the county fair. You both knew the other was going to be there with your respective groups of friends – there’d been so much tension between the two of you during the weeks leading up to the fair. Very ‘will they won’t they’ as cliché as it sounded. You’d had your first kiss together that night too. Steve remembers how demure you seemed in your pretty dress as the two of you walked by the tree line, away from your friends and away from the rest of the crowd. Everyone was too preoccupied to notice the way you both looked at each other or the fact that you’d wandered off to be alone. He’d wanted to kiss you so badly but held off thinking it might be too soon.

Everyone had this idea in their heads about you. They all treated you like you were made of glass and the last thing Steve had wanted that night was to scare you off by being too forward.  But there was another side to you and that was the night he caught his first glimpse. He was in the middle of relaying a story – something funny Dustin had done – and it wasn’t that you were disinterested in hearing it. You liked hearing how fondly he spoke of the younger boy. You found it incredibly sweet how their unlikely friendship came to be but there was a pressing matter on your mind and you couldn’t resist any longer. Your hands reached out to grasp at the front of Steve’s shirt as you pulled him down for a sudden kiss. It was unexpected but he melts into it quickly, remembering everything from the sound of the fireworks going off in the distance, to the taste of cotton candy on your lips.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t wait anymore”, you’d said when you finally parted for air.

He realized you weren’t nearly as fragile as people thought you to be.

Quickly checking over his shoulder to make sure Robin hadn’t shuffled back in yet, Steve carefully pulls the picture free from behind the little plastic display to sneak a peek at the one he’d hidden underneath. It was one of the pictures he had taken of you yesterday. He couldn’t resist – he had to have one with him while he kept the others hidden away in his room. Your face wasn’t in it- he’d promised you he’d be careful. It was a shot of your body – stretched out on his bed, still clad in your lacy underwear and peppered with fresh hickeys.

He can feel his cock begin to stir in his pants and he knows better than to get hard at work but he can’t help but let his eyes linger a few moments longer. Who would have known just by looking at you that this was what you’d been getting up to in secret.

Steve’s so busy admiring every curve of your body that he doesn’t take immediate notice when the front door swings open. No one really came in at this hour – kids were supposed to be in school and the adults were usually at work right about now. When he does finally look up it feels like he’s just stepped off the edge of a cliff, wallet slipping from his fingers and landing on the opposite side of the counter.

Jesus, Fuck

Hopper’s mirthless, raging face looms over him, his stare alone somehow willing Steve into fearful submission.

The fear intensifies when Steve’s eyes dart down momentarily to realize that his wallet’s landed right beside Hopper’s boots – thankfully, picture side down.

Steve’s mouth’s completely dry and all he can hear is the sound of his own blood coursing in his ears. Jim Hopper was a big man, by anyone’s standards. Big enough to make even the most arrogant drunk think twice about picking a fight with him. Right now, he seemed impossibly big. Almost mountainous, even.

The look on Hopper’s face told Steve everything he needed to know and now all the boy could do was wait. With no one around to see, there was no way the Chief wouldn’t swing. Right?

He clearly wanted to. What father wouldn’t?

God, this is going to fucking hurt…

“This is major. Huge! There’s no way he won’t kill you, I mean really- “

Like a godsend, Robin strides back towards the counter, only cutting herself off when she sees who’s walked into the store.

Steve takes his first breath since Hopper showed up, relief washing over him. A witness!

He eyes Robin from where he’s frozen in place, a mix of helplessness and desperation evident on his face.

She knew she needed to do something to help her friend from getting his face caved in. Despite being the one who hadn’t messed around with Hopper’s daughter, she struggles to maintain a calm cadence, croaking out a very nervous, “Hey Chief, here to check out the new releases?” to distract him.

Steve’s nothing but thankful for her awkward but sincere effort to break the dangerous tension mounting in the store but Hopper ignores her altogether to turn back to him.

“Whatever you think I might do to you if I ever see you near my daughter again is nothing compared to what I’ll actually do to you, understand?”

Steve nods quickly. Even if he wasn’t afraid for his life he knew there was no convincing Hopper of anything right now. There was no room to carefully explain or reason. There was barely any room to breathe. He’d have to plead his case later.

With one last ire fueled stare at Steve he turns to leave, eyes briefly skimming over Steve’s wallet on the floor before stomping out of the store.

Robin cautiously inches over to Steve, eyes trained on the door, wondering if Hopper might just change his mind and come back.

“Are you okay?”, she finally asks.

“Ask me again in an hour”, he replies weakly, blood yet to return to his pale face.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

You knew this was hard for your father. He had trusted you and you had lied. You should have been honest from the start. Sure, he wouldn’t have been crazy about the idea of his daughter dating Steve Harrington but if you hadn’t tried to hide your relationship and instead, had explained how happy Steve made you, things might have turned out differently.

“He won’t be bothering you again”, was what Hopper said to you when he came back home that morning. You hadn’t even realized he’d been gone. You’d accidentally slept in late, exhausted from having cleaned up your father’s mess last night and your many futile and tearful attempts at trying to convince him that Steve wasn’t the kind of boy he thought he was.

Hopper seemed pleased with himself, having scared the shit out of your boyfriend with not more than a look and a single warning. Instantly, you knew what he’d done and now it was your turn to start yelling. It goes on for hours – you, trying to make it clear that he had no right trying to decide who you can and can’t date and him, trying to shoutexplain that he’d done it for your own good because according to him, all Steve wanted to do was take advantage of you.

“If he’s such a good guy, why didn’t he try to explain himself this morning?!”, Hopper boomed

“You probably didn’t give him the chance! All you do is intimidate!” you shot back defiantly

“He was corrupting you- I needed to keep that pervert away!” he retaliated.

Frustrated and well beyond your limit, you angrily tread to your bedroom and slam the door behind you, locking yourself inside before burying yourself underneath your blankets. It infuriated you. You’re an adult now but this was Jim Hopper. As long as you’re under his roof, he still calls the shots.

You avoid Hopper the next day. Only coming out of your bedroom when you hear the cruiser pull way as he leaves for work. You use that time to fix yourself something to eat and wonder around the cabin, wracking your brain for solutions before going right back inside when you hear him return in the evening.

Hopper can’t find it in himself to apologize because he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. The way he sees it, some handsy boy treated you with less respect than you deserved and there was no way he was about to let that continue. But at the same time, he couldn’t stand to have you mad at him.

You’re the only person he’d ever even attempt to make peace with after a bitter fight. He’s just about to knock on your door when the phone begins to ring. With an irritated huff he walks away from your door to answer it. He sighs again, rubbing at his temple as he listens to the caller on the line. “Alright, I’ll be right there”, he grunts back and hangs up the receiver. Grabbing his keys, he’s about to head to the cruiser but he decides to try reaching out to you one more time before he leaves.

He knocks gently against your door. No response. It hurts because he knows that you’re up and not actually asleep – he’d seen your shadow from under the door not very long before the phone had started to ring. Carefully softening his tone, he starts, “Honey…I have to head out again- there’s some sort of commotion down Marley Street- house party that got out of hand – some little sh- someone set a couch on fire and it spread- it’s a mess and I have to get down there”. No response still. “I might be out a while so keep the doors locked…I’ll be back as soon as I can”. Hopper turns to leave but the sound of your room door being unlocked has him whipping back around. You crack open your door just a couple of inches and his face drops when he sees your eyes all red and your cheeks puffy from crying all day. He may not be the calmest person around or the easiest person to reason with but you knew he had done what he did because he cared about you. You didn’t like being mad at him either knowing that it hurt him too. “Be careful, dad”, you reply softly. He smiles back tenderly. “Thanks, hun”. You both part a little somberly but hopeful that the next time you talk, you’re more likely to reach an understanding than another screaming match. You both just needed some time to cool off first.

You decide to clean yourself up with a nice hot shower when you hear the cruiser take off. Returning from the bathroom you remember that you hadn’t been able to call Steve the day before – too busy and exhausted from all the yelling. You dial and wait. When he doesn’t answer fresh tears start to emerge. You try to tell yourself that maybe he’s out with Robin right now but part of you worries that Hopper had managed to get to him with his threats and that he was avoiding your call on purpose. You put the phone back down, sick of listening to it ring.

You retreat under your blankets again, ready to softly cry yourself to sleep and let the cycle repeat itself.  You’re about 3 minutes into it when a sudden series of taps against your window make you still your breath. You’re alone. It’s dark. And now you’re very, very scared.

You’re just about ready to scream bloody murder when you recognize the face peering through your bedroom window.

“Steve!”

You throw the blankets off yourself and practically sprint to your window, smiling so hard it almost hurts.

“He’s gone, right?”, he whispers cautiously when you unlatch the window and open it for him.

“He left about 30 minutes ago- something about a fire down Marley Street”, you beam despite the context of the news you’re relaying.

“I saw – I drove past it on my way home from work- probably Jake Ramsey’s fault. That guy’s always passing out flaming shots.” He crawls through your window and straightens out before continuing. “No one got hurt but the whole place is a mess. Drunk kids all out on the lawn, fire department was called. Pretty big – I knew they’d call your dad in and that meant you’d be alone so…”

You throw your arms around him and squeeze, “I tried calling and when you didn’t answer…I’m so glad you’re here”, you mumble into his chest.

“I never went home, babe. I just drove straight here”, he replied, hugging you back with a reassuring squeeze.

You crane your neck back to look up at him, “My dad didn’t scare you off?”

Steve suppresses a nervous laugh at that. Hopper did scare him. Almost effortlessly so but he decides to leave that part out when cups your face with his palm, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly. “Not enough to keep me away from you”, he replies honestly.

He leans down to meet your waiting lips, kissing you softly. It’s a tender, sweet moment but it slowly changes into something more needy when you purposely press your chest up against his and one of his hands trail down to glide along the curve of your ass over your sleep shorts, squeezing your flesh before breaking the kiss to suck at your neck.

“You never got to tell me over the phone- how exactly did he find out?” he makes out against your skin.

“Left a stupid notebook behind in the car- he drove back to the center to give it to me- Loretta told him I didn’t work there”, you reply, eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh?”

“But he didn’t realize yet that it was me he’d caught you with that night- he thought you’d been going around with some other girl- stringing me along during the day- probably didn’t think I’d ever put out for anyone”

Steve scoffs. “Course he didn’t. The Chief of Police’s daughter? Little innocent thing like you? You’d have to be a fucking loon to try and get under her panties”, he pulls at your waistband playfully and lets it snap against your skin.

You giggle before replying. “Remember when we started by using condoms?”, you card your fingers through his hair, occasionally pulling at the soft brown locks when he latches on to a particularly sensitive spot.

“Can’t remember a thing before you let me slip inside without one, babe” he nips at your earlobe.

You blushed remembering the first time you’d done it without one.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

You’d planned it to be a surprise. You didn’t tell Steve that you’d gotten on the pill yet, deciding that you wanted to have a little fun with him first. You tried to contain yourself as you watched him roll on the condom that day before you began to ride him in his bedroom. You staved off your own orgasm until you could tell he was getting close by the way his abdomen clenched and the grip he had on your thighs would tighten. “Stevie, this isn’t working” you’d whined in faux frustration as you ceased bouncing on his cock. You almost felt bad when worry washed over his face and he sprung up from his pillow to look at you face to face. “What’s the matter, angel? need me to be on top?”, voice full of concern.

“it’s not that- I’m just tired of not getting to feel you”, you pouted back.

“Baby, I’m literally inside you right now”, he let out a short disbelieving laugh.

“that’s not what I mean” you pull yourself off of his cock, letting it slip from your hole.

“I need this off- It’s getting in the way”, you point at the condom curled over his dick before you begin pulling it free from his length.

You enjoyed the dumbfounded look on his face a little too much as you tossed the latex aside and held on to his shaft, making a show of rubbing his bare cock along your slick pussy. “Oh, Steve, that feels so good”, you moan out, aiming his tip at your clit and pressing the two very sensitive areas together. 

“Shit- baby, hold on-“

You’re not deterred, you can feel how badly he’s tempted to let you ride him raw but you anticipate his hesitation all the same.

“But Stevie, imagine how good it would feel”,  you whine back. It’s downright cruel the way you’re teasing him right now but you can rest easy knowing that the torture you’re putting him through is going to be well worth it-and he’d agree.

“Sweetheart- fuck- it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s really not that”, he chokes out

“Please, Steve? I wanna feel all of you”

His resolve is crumbling by the second. “Baby, maybe we should wait until you get on the pill? You know,uh be safe?”, he sounds barely convinced by his own reasoning, phrasing everything like a question.

“So, you’ll fuck me without one if I get on the pill?”, you purr back teasingly to clarify.

The truth was he wanted to fuck you without it and you knew it.

“Yeah baby, I’ll give it to you just how you want it”, he strains.

You pretend to look thoughtful for a moment before shrugging your shoulders with contented smile. “Mm, alright”, you hum back innocently.

His breath hitches when instead of releasing his throbbing dick, you raise your hips and line up his cock with your entrance, pushing down until he sinks all the way inside.

You both moaned at the feeling. Your tight warmth envelopes his dick and you can feel every ridge and inch of it pulsing inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck – did you- when??”, he chokes out, barely coherent but you knew exactly what he’s asking.

“Last week”, you moan out, a satisfied smile stretching across your face.

“Surprise”

He didn’t last much longer without it but it didn’t matter. You liked knowing the kind of effect your pussy had on him. And he made it up to you 15 minutes later. Thrice.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

You let the memory fade away when he works a hand between your bodies to rub over your clothed cunt.

“W-well- there was one left over. I left it inside the notebook- completely forgot about it- slipped out right in front of him- that’s when he put it all together”, you force out in a whine.

Steve stills his hand over your mound, pulling away from your neck to look down at you with concern.

“So, he knows I’ve been fucking you raw?”

“No…, I don’t think so- he never found my birth control pills”

Steve’s expression relaxes for a moment before he eyes you up and down suggestively. “Hm. Too bad.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at this. “’Too bad’? Isn’t our situation bad enough?”

He only smirks before returning to mouthing at your neck, slipping both hands underneath your shirt to give your breasts some attention.

“How pissed do you think he’d get if I knocked you up?”, he breathes against your ear.

The questions catches you off guard and you don’t know what to say because you’re too busy trying to process the way his words have begun to make your pussy throb.

“If I put a baby in you- got you all nice and big”, he squeezes your tits with both hands for emphasis,

“- couldn’t hide it then- then he’d know- everyone would know”

You let a moan slip at that, dragging your cunt along his thigh for some relief.

“That what you want, baby? Really stick it to your old man if I got you pregnant right under his own roof”

Your head’s swimming but you still manage to whisper-shout back at him, “Steve! We’re too young”

He chuckles, “I know that- I mean eventually”.

“I can tell you want it too” his eyes flick down to where your shorts have begun to turn damp against his jeans.

You see it too and you’re too far gone now to try and deny it.

“Fuck- please just fuck me before he gets back”, you finally give in.

Your shirt lay discarded in the corner of your room and your nipples throb faintly with the memory of how he’d played with and sucked them moments ago, leaving them all pert and puffy. You’re all spread out on your bed underneath Steve, a shaking whimpering mess and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

“Stevie, please hurry- can’t let him catch us again”

“You know, if you weren’t so busy thinking with this” he brings his open palm down on your clothed clit with just enough pressure to make you yelp, “we wouldn’t be in this mess”.

You relish his faux admonishment. You both know that the two of you share the blame in getting caught but he isn’t wrong. You’d been so needy for him and he liked chiding you for it.

“Needed my cock that bad, angel?” he brings his hand down on your delicate folds again.

“That why you left the condom in your notebook? Smart girl like you- you know better than that”

Smack

“So forgetful…mind all blank now that your pretty little pussy’s being used?”

Smack

“All those years without anyone to touch you and now- “

Smack

“You can’t get enough of it”

“Steeeeve”, you draw out in a desperate whine.

He ignores your plea, “Jesus, how can you sleep in these damn things, they’re so tight. I can see every part of you”.

You’d outgrown this particular pair of shorts a while back. You could still fit into them but he was right, they looked like a second skin on you. He ogles the outline of your cunt through the pale purple cotton and your face warms up when he pinches your pussy lips together. You wiggle your hips and that earns you another slap.

“Take them off- panties too”, he commands.

You do as your told, shimmying both off before he’s forcing you back on your bed with your thighs spread.  

He doesn’t say much this time, instead busying himself by landing several hits directly onto your naked cunt until your clit’s all swollen and your labia’s all pink from the impact. You can hear how wet you’ve become with every smack and he just tuts at the sight between your legs.

“So impatient…”, he lets out in a low groan, inspecting your arousal by rubbing your slippery slick between his thumb, index and middle fingers.

The way your thighs twitch and tremble with every slap isn’t lost on him. He’s confident that he could probably get you to cum from this alone and he’s so tempted to do just that but you’re right. As much as he wants to take the time to put his theory to the test, he doesn’t want to risk another encounter with your father just yet.

He brings his hand between your legs again, this time gently rubbing soothing circles into your abused little bud.

“Want me to make it feel better, baby?”, he coos.

Your chest rises and falls with labored breaths as you nod affirmatively, eyes all watery.

He picks you up and carries you away from the bed, sitting you down on the edge of your desk instead. Your college brochures tumble to the floor and your neat little pile of transcripts tip over and messily fan out behind you.

Your legs fall open as he impatiently sheds his clothing too.

Taking one last moment to tease you, he taps the head of his cock against your aching clit until you choke out a pathetic ‘please’.

He takes pity on you then and you both watch as he finally pushes it in, savouring the stretch.

It’s going to be quick and rough, you both know it but you still gasp when he pulls back far enough to begin driving his cock into you in a hurried pace. You can feel yourself beginning to gush, eyes rolling back as you chant his name again and again. Pens and paperclips rattle and roll off your desk, a mess of stationary littering your bedroom floor.

You’re so cockdrunk your unfocused gaze eventually lands on the framed picture at the corner of your desk. You and your father, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and you leaning in close to him as you smile for the picture. Your arm shoots out to turn the picture face down – his face is the last thing you want to see while you’re getting railed and you don’t need another reminder of how pissed he’d be if he knew you were seeing Steve in secret again – in his own house even.

Steve notices your expression and laughs, low and a little dark. “Forget him, baby, I’m your daddy now”.

He picks you up by the waist and you gasp. You’re forced to support yourself with your palms planted flat on your desk behind you and your arms extended. Your legs immediately wrap around Steve’s waist for stability and you’re left to hold on as he grips your ass and begins pounding into you, much harder than before. You squeal at the intensity, desk creaking dangerously beneath you while your tits bounce on your chest.

Your arms ache from having to support your weight but your building orgasm soon captures your complete attention.

“Getting close, angel?”, he grits out with a smirk

“So-so close, daddy”, you pant back out.

Steve groans approvingly when you say it, and he can tell that you like it too because your cunt clenches around him like a vice.

“Daddy, I’m-“ you let your head fall back as the coil in your abdomen snaps and your orgasm ripples through you. Your silky walls clamp sporadically around Steve’s cock and he rests his forehead against your shoulder as he spills into you with a deep grunt, driving into you with short, hard thrusts until he has nothing left to give.

Somehow, you’ve managed to keep your arms outstretched but they start to wobble and he notices, easing you down onto the surface of your desk and pulling out to watch his spend flow back out of your hole. Cum seeps out of you and leaks directly onto your half-completed college application forms but you’re too blissed out to really care. You’ll gladly pick up another set of papers when the feeling starts to return to your trembling legs.

You stare at each other, eyes half lidded, sweaty and panting.

Steve’s the one to break the momentary silence when he reaches out to frame your face with his palm again. 

“I wanna be with you- no more sneaking around. I know he won’t like it at first but let’s be upfront with him. Make him understand”.

Your chest blossoms with adoration and you blush under his affectionate stare.

 “Maybe at dinner? This Friday? I’ll pick a place” you offer, still a little breathless.

 “Yeah” he smiles back at you warmly.

“Some place that gets packed, alright?" he adds.

And then a tinge more seriously so that you understand what he means. “Witnesses, you know?”

[sunnybyler]

i’ve been sitting on my thoughts for so long but i just have to get this off my chest. i don’t like to yuck ppls yum so if you like e/riel pls scroll away nd keep having your fun it’s not my problem. however some of y’all can get mean as HELL and as an elucien i have to get this off my chest. (also warning for gwynriels i’m with y’all i defend y’all here however i do go in a bit on az in this so fair warning). i truly have no idea why e/riels cling so hard to the azriel bonus chapter in acosf because that chapter, more than literally anything else in the series, proved to me that e/riel is absolutely NOT going to be endgame. let me explain:

1. it is explicitly stated that azriel did not think of his relationship with elain outside of a sexual nature. i think some ppl get kinda annoyingly puritanical when trying to make this point when it’s like 100% certain lucien had sexual thoughts of elain too. the point isn’t the thoughts themselves. the difference here is the explicit mention that he didn’t consider anything with her outside of that.

2. the point above ^ is further exacerbated by the fact that az did not give a flying fuck if he killed elain’s MATE. even if elain hasn’t accepted the bond, it would still be extremely painful for her based on what we’ve seen with rhys, feyre, and even rhys’s parents (who weren’t good for each other, yet we saw how rhys’s dad lost it when she died). now of course us lucien lovers know damn well he would never in a million years call a blood duel to try to claim elain (and fuck u rhys for saying that, i usually have your back but come ON you are not the only male who can respect their mate’s autonomy). but az doesn’t know that!? in fact seems to agree with rhys that he could. ppl argue on who would win that fight — my opinion hinges 100% on if powers are fully unleashed but that’s not the point at all. no matter WHO wins, elain is going to feel responsible for someone’s death. of course it wouldn’t be her fault if men decided to be fucking stupid, but with the little we know about elain shows that she would feel so guilty if that happened. but azriel doesn’t seem to give af that anyone fighting to the death over her is the last thing she would ever want. not only did az not think of elain outside his fantasies and therefore not fully care for her, but he doesn’t seem to even KNOW elain in this chapter. now, i could go in on this in acosf as a whole. but i’m keeping it to this chapter alone.

3. and further on THAT point, az doesn’t really give any reasoning on his interest in elain outside of this insane “three brothers/three sisters” thing he fully pulled out of his ass. tbh i almost thing this is sjm’s way of addressing the fan theories on that. now i get it to some extent from az’s pov — seeing his brothers happy with these sisters must fuck with your head after you’d all been bachelors together for 500 years. especially considering how he’s felt unworthy of love his whole life and this seems to support that insecurity of his. i get that it makes him feel ostracized from them, and that he’s now an outlier not being with an archeron. i get that. i do. i sympathize with him here. however that does not change the fact that he isn’t speaking of elain like she’s her own individual here — hell he fully calls her “the other”. i think part of this conversation was him being frazzled, i give him a bit more grace than some do (tho he pissed me off BAD in this scene), but we were fully in this man’s head. did he give us a full reason why he liked elain besides his brother’s mates and his sexual thoughts?? they would’ve at least crossed his mind when rhys was grilling them if sjm was trying to set up her next romance here. as it is, we have literally nothing to imply azriel actually likes elain herself and not the idea of being closer with his brothers.

4. az has kinda a habit of ignoring the reality of the women he’s attracted to in some way. he has his own version of them in his head that he puts on a pedestal. now i could do a whole psych eval on this man and how he thinks he’s unworthy of love and therefore only allows himself to have feelings for women he knows/thinks he can’t have. but to focus on this chapter alone, my points above ^ about how he doesn’t really think of elain outside his fantasies/bringing him closer to his brothers and not really understanding her pretty much wraps it up there. i mean he even talks about how he thinks his scarred hands don’t belong on her because she’s so perfect in his eyes. that’s not love, that’s obsession and it’s unhealthy. he clearly thinks himself below elain and ignores that she has her own flaws too.

5. aaaand i saved the biggest for (almost) last….. GWYN. this is a genuine GENUINE question. why in the fucking hell. would sjm make half the chapter focusing on az & gwyn if she was teasing e/riel. like that makes no sense. not to be annoying and mention chekhov's gun but that idea applies to relationships too. i’m sorry but she couldn’t be more explicit about her future romances. you could argue “oh well it’s because there’s gonna be a love triangle”. y’all. elain has. elain has a mate. there already IS a love triangle. there was absolutely no reason for her to bring gwyn into this chapter other than her preparing us for a future relationship, literally none. especially with all the romantic subtext (hell not even subtext, just TEXT). gwyn getting him to talk about himself so easily when he’s so quiet usually, him taking the idea of making her happy and he “buried the image down deep, where it GLOWED QUIETLY” (which SCREAMS mating bond to me but even if it’s not it’s clearly something he cherishes deeply), the SHADOWSINGERS SHADOWS SANG FOR HER!?

6. the fucking necklace regifting. oh it’s bad. OHHH ITS BAD. when the girls realize it’s gonna be SO messy but im hoping sjm doesn’t go the stupid cat fight route bc neither of them did anything wrong. az did. i’m sorry i’m dunking on him so much in this post i rlly don’t hate him i just think he needs like decades of therapy (which tbf don’t we all) which i unfortunately don’t think sjm is going to give him before giving him his romance. but even the biggest azriel lovers have to admit that this was insanity. a few points on it here. first, if it’s so easily regiftable then it couldn’t have been that well thought out in regards to elain. say what you will about lucien’s gifts, even argue that he gave her jewelry too. but elain was actually shown wearing pearls. az’s gift seemed shallow to me — it was something pretty, and elain’s pretty, and it had a flower, and elain gardens. it’s clear lucien put SO much more thought into his gifts, whether he succeeded or not (which i need to remind y’all — we still don’t know. maybe she liked the gifts maybe she didn’t, but regardless she acted the way she did bc of her feelings about the bond, not the gift). and azriel has spent so much more time with elain than lucien has. if that necklace really felt like elain to him, he could’ve kept it or returned it. but nope. buddy gave it to a whole other girl bc he could easily associate it with someone else. he clearly felt some special pull towards gwyn too, going out of his way to give it to her. he had ONE meaningful conversation with her. i already discussed the quote earlier that makes me think mating bond personally. but no matter what, him giving her the same gift he gave someone he was pursuing romantically is a clear sign of what’s to come (and probably a setup for some sort of drama that i don’t think im mentally ready for).

so there we have it! why i think that the bonus chapter thoroughly proves that e/riel is not going to be endgame. i honestly think it’s possible they might be a thing for a minute (tho i could also see this being the closing of that chapter), but i don’t think it’s going to last. sjm just gave us too many blatant hints that elain and az would NOT work together long term, and that azriel in particular is more suited for someone else. i might’ve missed some points bc there is SO much that goes down in this tiny chapter so lmk if there’s other stuff you picked up on!

[autumnaaltonen]

(listen, listen my two brain cells are working hard!).

Alucard with a sort of muscular s/o who has scars and stretch marks due to hunting/missions. She's seems intimidating/doesn't talk much and always takes things too seriously even with sarcasm. But secretly she just socially awkward and shy. Who's insecure about her body and how her muscles/scars making her look scary.

Maybe one day Alucard complements her for her work during a mission ((or one day she wears a dress for an event)) and catches her blushing cuz she nvr gotten a complement before.

Hehehehe, yesssss

Alucard With a Muscular, Scarred and Socially Awkward S/O

As an individual, you were one of the more experienced monster hunters out of all the other human Hellsing soldiers, you’ve got your fair share of kills from every variety of freak, be it vampires, ghouls or werewolves. However, while this fact should make you the most popular member on the team, it was unfortunately quite the opposite.

Spending so much time on your own on solo missions, even prior to Hellsing, has put you a little on the stiff side. You can tell when a vamp was about to slash a filed hand at you from a single twitch of the finger, or when a ghoul was capable of running rather than just stumbling based on the pattern of their steps.

But social ques like friendly greetings, sarcasm and self-deprecating humour have become lost to you over time, and it’s painfully noticeable to both yourself and to everyone around you. You were stoic silent, not in ignorance, but fearful of the mystery that has become your fellow human. Jokes fly above your head, and playful jabs make you question the people you surround yourself with, but you keep rationalising at the end of the day that it’s all in your head, and that your glaring is not going to make you any new friends. You felt like a wolf in a pack of sheep.

To add wood to the fire, you’ve also garnered a number of physical mementos from your work, like nasty scars from close calls with a mouth or a claw, moles and freckles from waiting in the sun before nightfall called upon your kill, and stretch marks from the various changes your body has gone through during your physically intensive work

So, you were a tad intimidating to most. But Alucard has always been different. He’s the King of weird and intimidating, so when he took notice of your insecurities despite your gifts, he just couldn’t have it.

“Do not waste your mortal life fretting over polished gold. We may not shine in the sun, but just as the moon dazzles at night, our aptitude is best performed in darkness.”

The both of you hit it off fairly quickly, to say the least. With Alucard by your side, your social anxiety is somewhat pattered down, as there is no way in hell that you could seem like a weirdo with him walking next to you.

Alucard makes you feel seen at the most unlikely of moments, laughing proudly while watching you kill on missions, competing with you on who could take down the most ghouls in one night, or checking on you every once in a while to make sure you were stocked on ammunition.

He even begins to give you words of affirmation and compliments that frazzled and dazed you every time.

“Even I could learn to fear the fury of your gaze, dear.”

“What an alluring sight you are, out of breath and blood-sated.”

“Careful now, if you keep fighting like that, I may just have to keep you.”

Alucard made you feel special and one of a kind, and for once in the best ways. And when he slowly starts pushing on your walls, and words become actions, you wonder why you ever second-guessed yourself.

But then there came the dreaded occasion of the UK Special Forces Division Ball, an annual celebration for the Queen’s most gifted soldiers, and of course Hellsing was hosting as usual, being the most indispensable military group of the time. To make matters worse, Sir Integra had chosen you to deliver this year’s welcoming speech, saying you were “the most exemplary standard for whom a solider of the Crown should strive to be.” And as his human friend, Integra also expected you to accompany Alucard throughout the night to balance out his attitude. Alucard agreed to your accompaniment without issue, even looking forward to not having to be forced into speaking with arrogant and imperious higher-ups.

Fuck that. Fuck this. YOU HAVE TO WHERE A DRESS!?  

You aren’t a ‘pick me’ by any means, but you cannot recall the last time you were anywhere near a pair of heels and lip-gloss, and that terrifies you. What the dress showed off your shoulders and arms? If you put on make-up, would you end up like the Matchmaker after Mulan threw tea on her? With your muscles and scars, what if you looked like a frou-frou G.I. Jane?

You don’t think you’ve ever had a near panic attack over such a trivial matter before, but it wasn’t trivial to you! For once, you were not even worrying about what others would think of you. Instead, all you could imagine is the fact that Alucard would see. Handsome, beautiful Alucard…he came from a background of Medieval opulence and royal refinery, a King who wore robes of ruby-dyed wool and a crown of glittering jewels, who had dazzling women at his beck and call to serve him in any way he asked.

You knew there was only one thing you could do: call upon your commanding officers. It took a lot of self-reassurance and determination, but it all pays off when you see the smiles on Sir Integra and Seras’ faces, both absolutely game to doll you up for your big moment. Sir Integra is a master-class in fashion, having three separate closets for her suits, gowns and decorative weapons. Seras is a social woman fresh out of police college, and was no stranger to what cosmetics looked best when clubbing or going to a fancy-shmancy gala.

You imagined that they would cover you up with a shawl, or cover your scars with concealer, but to your horror they instead slipped you into a sleeveless and tight woven gown and black heels that accentuated all your muscles and curves, as well as applied very basic cosmetics to just your face to make you pop.

Maybe this was a terrible idea.

But they don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and shove you out of your room and down the hallways into the ballroom, practically throwing you through the doors…and directly into Alucard’s back. Turns out he had been waiting by the entrance for quite some time, making a bit of a scary scene for all the other guests who needed to walk past him towards the dance floor. He was looking for someone, and everyone hoped to God it was for a good reason.

You were able to brace your hands in front of you after being thrown into your good friend’s back, knowing that even someone with your strength could not stumble him. When he turns around, prepared to scold whoever dared try to shove him, you brace for the impact of a bullying laugh or a disappointed frown, wrapping your arms around yourself like a protective shield and looking down at his boots.

But you feel his gloved fingers wrap themselves around your hands firmly, removing them from around your sides and resting them atop his chest. He then puts a finger under your chin, tipping your head up to look at him.

“I was starting to wonder when my second-half would appear. Though I see you kept me waiting for good reason, now you have become even more dazzling than the moon.”

You gape for a moment, taking his words. “Your second-half?” you question.

“Of course, why do you think I asked my master to keep you by my side tonight? A King requires his fair beauty on his arm.”

The sincerity of his words and the admiration on his face nearly brings tears to your eyes, settling yourself against him in relief as he pulls you closer. Gone are all the nerves that have been biting at you all day, and you feel prepared to take on the world (or at least deliver a greeting address) with Alucard in your ring.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Okay kids, mini story time for those of you who care, aka, Darya meets a ST fan irl and struggles to not look insane.

So last night I had dinner with some friends, and we were chatting about concerts and what not, specifically Twenty One Pilots. We're all pretty big fans, and we were kinda upset that they weren't coming here, and whether it was worth to spend that much money and see them in Spain or not.

Which led to discussing the ridiculous ticket prices being put now, and how difficult it is to even get them. I mentioned how hard it was for me to get Sleep Token tix, and the insane amounts of money some US peeps payed to see them.

Then my friend said "Sleep Token? Oh they're so good".

Kids. The way I LEPT out of my seat and went "OH MY GOD??? YOU LISTEN TO ST TOO???? I AM OBSESSED RAAAAA".

And then he told me, yeah I've listened to a few of their songs, they're sick. Their drummer ii is insane (my friend is a drummer). Then he told me he had watched one of his Drumeo videos (The Summoning), and just how incredible ii was (OUR TINY KING), and I told him, dude you *have* to watch the longer one. Also he put one out today!!! Have you watched that one yet????

Mind you, I was glowing and vibrating with excitement. My best friend was like, chill Darya, he's not as a fanboy as you, you're gonna scare him. Which fair, I had to tone it down a little bit because I was starting to look crazy lmao (all in good fun though. I did dunk on him because I've been trying to get him into ST properly FOR A YEAR and so far he's only listened to TMBTE smh).

Then we talked a little bit about them, how they sounded so different, and then we sorted frazzled out to other bands and what not but. Yall 🥹 it was so nice.

We have pretty similar tastes in music, but I still was surprised since I never really heard him talk about them (tbf we haven't hung out in a while, which is very much my fault but still). One more of us 🥹💙

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Hii!!

Idk why, I kinda see Santino not wanting to stay still/get enough rest while having his wound stitched. So, John has to constantly tell him to try and relax and take rest and literally keep him in bed. Otherwise, his stitches could get torn. Because well, we know how stubborn Santino can be, his stitches probably got torn a little. And then he gets moody again, and John has to deal with him even more. But of course, Santino loves the comfort John gives him during all that. So, yeah, that was something I just thought of :3. What do you think about this? :)

Salut! Oh boy, this took a while, but it was so fun!! Santino definitely would be hard to contain, and so stressed about being unable to do anything. So here's a ficlet! :3

TW: blood, gunshot wound, crying, self-deprecation, suggestive of smut ;)

●・○・●・○・●

"No, you're not going out. You're hurt."

"It isn't a question, I have to." Santino was looking up at John with his moodiest glower. But even as flustered as he was, he wasn't able to get much color into his cheeks. He'd had a fair bit of blood loss after being shot by a rival clan. John didn't fully follow the logic of why he was shot - something about a retaliation for a life the Camorra had taken, which was in retaliation for a previous murder...it was exhausting just to try to untangle the chains of retribution. So instead, he'd just shot them dead on the spot. Nice and simple.

"I know this is stressful. But I will take care of everything. If they can't manage without you, that's too bad."

He gave a frazzled sigh and pushed himself up on one shoulder, attempting to rise. "It is too bad, it's no good at all. This damn bullet couldn't have come at a worse time. I - mmm..." But his words were lost in John's kiss. He whined into his boyfriend's mouth, which just spurred John into a primal enough mindset to shove Santino back against the pillows, straddling his waist and pinning down his shoulder with one hand. Even in this surge of dominance, he was gentle with Santino, making sure not to disturb the bullet wound.

"Stay down," he panted, both of them suddenly a little breathless.

"Well, when you put it like that...maybe I want you down here with me." Santino locked a hand onto the back of his hair and brought their lips crashing together again, his precious outing forgotten for the moment.

But it was not forgotten entirely. It was late in the night when John woke up to find Santino's side of the bed empty.

"Santino?" There was no answer. It was probably too much to hope that he had just gotten up for a trip to the restroom.

He bolted out of bed and down the hall towards Santino's study. Sure enough, he was sitting at his desk, writing with shaky hands that occasionally stopped to clutch at his side in obvious pain.

"What are you doing, love?"

Santino jumped, and looked up to see him. "Cazzo! [Fuck!] - don't scare me like that."

"I'm sorry. But you shouldn't be up."

"I had work to do," he said with a glare that broke off into a wince. This time, when his fingers brushed over his side, they came away covered in blood. He looked down at his hand and went pale. "What...John..."

"Okay, hey, easy." John was already on his knees next to him, lifting up his shirt to see what happened. "You tore your stitches. How did this happen?"

He tsked. "I don't know...I reached up to get a ledger from the top shelf, maybe that would do it..."

"Yeah. It's okay, we'll fix it."

"So irritating! I can't even lift my arms without falling apart, I can't do anything. I can't believe I let this happen to me, I'm so stupid." He was shaking even worse now. John took his hand despite the blood.

"No you're not. You don't need to do anything right now. Only rest. Let's go clean you up, okay?"

For a second, Santino frowned so deeply that John thought he might cry. So he wrapped around him in a tight hug. "I'm sorry you're hurt, love."

"This is bullshit. I just wanted to work...just get back on track so my schedule wouldn't be thrown off..."

He felt the shoulder of his shirt grow damp where Santino's eyes were squeezed shut against it, and kissed Santino's head in response. "I know. Come on, let's go clean you up before you lose any more blood."

So, for the next half hour, they sat in the bathroom, John gently cleaning and restitching his side while Santino sipped a juice that John had poured for him to replenish his blood. "An apple juice, seriously John? Like I'm a kid getting my blood drawn?" But John had insisted. And it worked pretty well. By the time John helped him back into the bedroom, he wasn't shaking anymore.

"I guess you'll say I can't work tomorrow either?" he asked.

"No."

Wrapped in his arms, Santino sighed. "You're going to be the death of me."

"I'm going to keep you alive. Just the way I like you."

"...Thank you for putting up with me, John."

"Nothing to put up with. I'm so lucky to be next to you."

Santino caressed his cheek and spoke softly, already on the verge of sleep. "Why did I ever get up in the first place? Everything I love is right here."

[frozenjokes]

Signing Off - 2

Prev/Next

PEARL

When Scar had ordered her to the ship’s wheel on account of the fast approaching storm, Pearl had run as fast as she could. Anything to get away. Anything to avoid facing her reality. Mumbo was dead. If he wasn’t yet, he surely would be. What would happen to the crew? To her? This was all she had- how could all of that just be ripped away?

She couldn’t listen to Grian’s panicked yelling anymore. She couldn’t bring herself to defend him from Scar’s harsh rebuke. She could only run. Pearl gripped the wheel hard, grateful for the wind blowing at her back and carrying their voices elsewhere. She was even grateful for the rain that suddenly began to fall against her neck, cooling and calming her frazzled mind. It took her a moment to realize she hadn’t even been steering the boat.

She looked up for the first time, squinting as the rain began to pound down with increasing intensity. Everywhere as far as she could see was oppressive and dark. Was she supposed to steer out of this? Which way was even out ?

Gunshots shattered her focus. Her first instinct was to run forward toward them, to help with whatever horrible accident had just occurred, but something, fear maybe, kept her hands glued to the wheel. She ducked down. Waited.

Grian screamed, scrambling on the slick floorboards out from the direction of the crew’s quarters. His voice seemed to struggle and falter as it tried to form words, failing completely as another bullet ricocheted off the hardwood next to his feet.

“Geez, I’m really not as good of a shot as I used to be. Quit moving, will you? Captain’s orders!” There was joy in Scar’s voice, not unlike the carefree tones he usually sang, but today it held sickly undertones. Pearl’s brain short circuited. Adrenaline didn’t consider the people in front of her as who they were. Just threats and victims. She drew her sword.

Thunder and rain obscured the sound of her light footsteps, her dark cloak fitting neatly into the shadows. She had to be careful; gain information, but not recklessly. Move slow, but not too slow, or she’d be too late. Luckily, Scar didn’t seem to be in much of a rush.

“Grian! Won’t you say something? Personally, I would never want to die screaming. I thought we might be similar in that way. Are you really only going to run?”

Grian gaped at Scar, hair plastered against his face by rain, but could only scream as Scar shot again. Pearl ducked as Scar turned his head, almost looking sorrowful. Was he.. looking for her? Did he want to be stopped? But Scar didn’t seem to find what he was looking for, instead choosing to advance on Grian. Grian tried to keep distance, but slipped in his panic to stay away.

“Come on, Grian,” Scar growled, eyes lighting up with anger, “Don’t tell me this is the way you want to go. Where’s your fire?”

Grian’s legs shook so violently, he couldn’t even stand. He scrambled backwards until he hit the crow’s nest post, squeaking as he did so.

Scar raised his gun. Pearl leapt.

The shot fired into the ground as Pearl landed squarely on Scar’s back, clawing and biting like the sword in her hand simply wouldn’t be enough for the pain she needed to inflict. Scar yelped and stumbled at the sudden weight, nearly falling forward, but reeled his weight back suddenly, using the momentum to slam the butt of his gun into the side of Pearl’s face. She crumpled off of him with a screech almost inhuman, but was back up in moments, charging with her sword outstretched, back into battle. Scar was ready with his own, face alight with glee as metal clashed.

“So is no one going to ask me why? I had a whole thing planned, it was going to be great!”

“No. I don’t care,” Pearl spat, pulling her sword back into another heavy blow.

“Fair enough!” Scar blocked the swing at his neck, framing his wicked grin between their weapons. He turned his head for a moment, eying Grian’s shaking form, “Take notes, will you?”

He would pay for that arrogance, but Pearl knew from many years on this ship that Scar could never help himself. The taunting, the playing around; he never failed to make a bad situation worse. She and Grian used to joke about it. Scar was going to get himself killed! But he was crafty, always managing to slip out of a sticky situation, even if he had endangered everyone’s lives by causing it in the first place. There was a reason he led them. A reason they called him Captain. Well, not anymore.

Pearl landed a direct kick to Scar’s stomach while his head was turned, folding him over and sending him to the ground. Grian had to jump out of the way before Scar crashed into him, both men tumbling on the slick ground. Scar scrambled back, but was stopped short by the crow’s nest pole. He cast a sad glance to his sword, cast to the wayside.

“Oh! Well would you look at that,” Scar wheezed, holding his stomach. He reached for his sword, but Grian lunged forward to snatch it away, stumbling to his feet to join Pearl in pointing their blades at Scar’s neck.

“Suppose this won’t do,” Scar sighed, unsheathing the bloody dagger at his hip. He held it out to the rain, letting the blood wash down his arm. Pearl lunged forward to end it, but was stopped by Grian’s meek voice.

“Impulse..and.. and..”

“Mumbo’s still kicking, if that’s what you wanted to know. Well. He won’t be kicking anymore by the looks of it. He probably broke his back, if not worse. There’s no way he makes it back to land-“

“Impulse is dead?” Pearl’s voice cracked, broken from her focus for the first time. Scar looked happy to answer, but her sword in his shoulder shut him up. Well, at the very least he was whining instead of speaking. She ripped it out, turning back to Grian.

“I went to.. Scar was just standing over him on the ground.. Mumbo. I have to go see Mumbo. If he dies I..”

“Let’s go. I’ll finish up here,” Pearl turned back to Scar, curled up pathetically against the pole. Scar smiled at her. No fronting grin. No bright eyes. Just a closed-mouth, genuine smile. She could have puked.

A massive clap of thunder shook the ship, and lightning struck down on the highest point, splitting the crow’s nest with a massive crack . Pearl stumbled back with her hands over her eyes as bright flame bloomed through the sails, eyes stinging.

“Pearl!” Grian’s hands gripped her cloak pulling her backward as the massive post in front of her began to fall. Scar’s dagger came down on Grian’s hands, forcibly separating the both of them. Before Grian could hope to fight back, Scar sent him onto his back with one strong kick. Pearl leapt froward at his turned back, but Scar was ready, lunging past her outstretched sword to deliver a heavy punch to her face. Pearl’s hands flew to her nose as blood spurted forward, her weapon clinking to the ground. In her daze, it was easy for Scar to sweep her legs out from under her and hop backward. She screeched, clawing back to her feet to pursue him, but was rubberbanded back by the dagger Scar had left in her hood, fastening her to the floor.

“Let me go! Scar! Scar! Let me- Pearl!” Grian wailed, scratching at Scar’s arms against his neck. She met Scar’s eyes, staring intently into hers. She didn’t want to see the the pillar that was surely bearing down on her now. She didn’t have time to think. To escape. She closed her eyes. She wouldn’t give Scar the satisfaction of fighting.

[offworldlamb-writes]

I LIED AHAHAHAHA

#fictober24 day 24! Today's prompt is You didn't do anything wrong and I had a part of The Runaway Princess that fits this!

Kane and Awen discuss public opinion.

xxx

She managed to catch up to him on his way out to the stables the next morning after breakfast. Closing the door behind them she called his name as he made for Bran and Elsie's pen, hurrying the last few steps to catch the pen door before he could shut it. "What's going on? You've been avoiding me since we arrived," she said with a frown, which only deepened into a scowl when he tried to dismiss her and send her back up to the house. "No, I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on."

"Look, it's not your problem, alright?" came his grumbled response, giving both horses a few slices of apple he'd stowed in his pocket from breakfast and petting Bran's snout.

The pen was immaculate and both horses were brushed, washed and trimmed: whatever Kane wanted to do beyond that, she didn't know, but he seemed determined to find something to do to distract himself.

When Elsie started fussing Awen gave her a good scratch behind the ears, but continued watching Kane in concern. "It is if it's bothering you."

When telling her to leave didn't work the second time either he eventually groaned and gave up, letting his head fall miserably against Bran's neck"Everyone thinks I'm manipulating you in some way. Not just here-- everyone in Caergref is convinced the only reason you're helping me is because of some fairytale magic. It's bugging me out, that's all," he admitted shamefully. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her. "You can say it doesn't matter, but it does. If it's all one big popularity contest, holding a princess captive doesn't make you very popular."

Giving Elsie's nose another slow and thoughtful pet Awen gave him a curious look. "But you're not. That's all that matters in the end," she tried to assure him, and pouted when he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"You can't just say that and think everything's OK! I saw the look your sister gave me; I know no one will ever believe me!"

"And why does that matter? I know, you know, Alister knows-- who cares what anyone else has to say?" It was hard not to get exasperated at such a conversation but it was necessary to keep the horses calm, and she could see Kane gritting his teeth. "I don't understand why this is bothering you now, Kane!"

"Because it's you! When people were shitting on my heritage and my character before it was fine-- it was just me! But now if I want anything to do with you I can't stop thinking about how it looks! If I hang around too much I'm controlling; if I keep my distance I'm suspicious!"

He had to step back when Bran started fussing, and let out a frustrated sigh to try and settle his frazzled nerves before rubbing Bran's nose again. "It's not you, it's all the people around you that are making sure you're alright. They haven't seen you in ten years and they're worried, but I hate getting all the blame for it."

"But you didn't do anything wrong, Kane..." she mumbled shamefully. She really didn't want to believe it but everyone's behaviour towards him so far hadn't been great, and she didn't know what to do about it.

Any other attempted reassurances were brushed off with increasing agitation, until Kane turned to face her properly and held her by the shoulders. "Look-- it's weird and confusing but I don't want to go through this on top of everything else. You have to give me some space here, Wen."

"But it's not fair! I don't want to see you getting treated like a criminal! It's their problem, not yours, and you shouldn't have to--"

He squeezed her shoulders. "Please. I don't know what to do. I don't want to fuck this up when we've come so far. Do you understand?"

Her solemn look in response hopefully conveyed her displeasure at the request, but he carried on regardless. "I need time, so I can think it through and not do something stupid. I can't risk anything; you can't, either. Not when we're in a house full of people watching you, borderline begging you to come back and be a princess again, alright?" he explained, letting out a sigh that made his whole body sag when she reluctantly agreed with a nod.

How exceptionally cruel. It was the safest she'd felt in months but Kane's comfort and character were the price paid. She assured him again, verbally this time, and he gave her shoulders one more squeeze in thanks before letting go. "So... what are we doing? Are you sticking with the Witch or are you...?"

It was such a pained look he was trying to hide that he didn't need to finish the sentence for her to understand, and she shook her head. "No, no princess. I'll use my connections, but I am not going back. Not even a little," she said, much to his relief, and brought a reassuring hand to his arm. "We'll do everything we can here, I promise. And if I hear any word against you I will make it everyone else's problem."

He managed to crack a smile at that, giving her hand an affectionate ate pat. "That's what worries me more than anything, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

[therizino-ao3]

Hermit Horror Week 2023

Day five: Echoes

Summary: It’s weird. When Impulse hits this bit of wall, he hears the knock echo. Which, shouldn’t be possible, given there isn’t any space behind it.

Read on ao3

Contains: being watched, someone living inside your house, losing a stuffed animal, theft, gone-off food, panic attacks

Now, things go missing all the time. Impulse likes to try and keep organised, but he isn’t perfect! Sometimes he misplaces things. Sometimes things are “misplaced” by Zedaph or Tango or someone else needing certain materials from his storage system. And, that’s fine! Impulse has plenty, he’s willing to share, but when he can’t find one of his stuffed animals, it’s kind of weird.

It was a gift from Zedaph, by the way, in case you were wondering why a grown man had a stuffed toy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, he knows Scar loves that kind of thing, but this one held sentimental value. It was a sheep, a bit of merch based off Zedaph’s “Is that sheep looking at me?” gameshow. Impulse never moved it from the shelf in his bedroom, but now it’s gone.

His fingers stroke over where it used to be. The place it was is obvious: a patch of dark, clean wood in the midst of an otherwise dusty shelf. It wasn’t that important but, now that it’s gone, he feels a gaping pain in his heart. It’s not fair. Why was it taken? Where is it? Who has it? He sends some frantic messages into their group chat and collapses onto the bed and into a rough sleep. When he wakes up, none of the hermits know where the sheep could be. Impulse feels like crying.

That was the most major theft. After that, it was little things. Tiny, tiny details like trying to find pens which should have been on his desk or some of the more obscure spices in his cupboard not being there when he dares try a bit of home cooking. He was just forgetting where he moved things to, he told himself, he is getting a little old. That doesn’t really help. The idea that he’s losing his memory is just as horrible as thinking someone is taking things.

If this is some kind of prank, he thinks, it’s pretty messed up. He’d rather have his base filled with sand and have to spend hours unearthing it, than whatever weird psychological thing is happening here. Maybe this is Cub’s doing – it has the hallmarks of being mildly annoying and oddly specific. But, this is too basic. Cub would go all out: move his furniture slightly, take items of greater and greater difficulty to take, and leave a bunch of cryptic signs around. No, this is far, far odder. Impulse still doesn’t really get it.

The tiny things disappearing continues for another month. It’s not that it’s unnoticeable or Impulse doesn’t care, it’s just that he’s been so busy that it hasn’t been a priority. He’s certain it’s another player now, or something like that. He would’ve thought the hermit would have upped the stakes or revealed themselves by now, but no. It continues the same way it always has been.

He’s rewiring some redstone in his base when he hears it. The sound of a pickaxe breaking into something hard, like stone, the crashing and crumbling. He stops. None of his machines make a noise anywhere close to that, it’s got to be another player. He inhales. He crawls out of the circuitry he was tangled in and yells, “Who’s there?”

He scrambles out and continues shouting, trying to get the person to reveal themselves. They never do. After about an hour of flying around his base and searching for people, he gives up. He never even heard anything beyond the first noise. He slumps and cries. He doesn’t know why he’s so emotional over this, but he can’t help it.

The next day, he’s feeling even worse, thoroughly frazzled. He won’t be able to get any work done like this. He needs to find solid evidence there’s someone in his base.

They’ve got to be hiding somewhere, he knows, they must have some secret passage or tunnel or something when they sneak into his base, for him to not have found them by now. So, he searches. He begins at the edges of his base, feeling his way around, searching for trapdoors or anything suspicious, knocking on walls. The first few hours are fruitless.

He pauses. When he hits this bit of wall, he hears the knock echo. Which, shouldn’t be possible, given there isn’t any space behind it. He gulps, some cathartic but negative feeling washing over him, and he grabs his pickaxe.

He smashes through the prismarine, mercilessly, watching as the thick wall turns to chunks to shards to fragments. It’s left as a mess on the floor. Spruce wood planks, scarred by Impulse’s attack, are revealed. He never placed those there. He switches his pickaxe to an axe and forces his way in.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting - some quick, messy tunnel, maybe – but this isn’t it. The smell hits him first: mould and gone-off food and sweat. He’s in someone’s home. Well, home is a bit generous, he’s in someone’s living space. There’s couches and paintings and rugs but also candy wrappers and dirty laundry and unknown stains. He takes a few steps, feeling nauseous. He can’t quite comprehend it – someone was living here – and he had no idea. He continues onward, feeling like he has no choice. He sees some pipes, taken from his storage system, siphoning off resources to whoever lives here. They aren’t even using the stuff, is the thing, with piles and piles of rotting pumpkins collecting in a crate. He’s going to throw up.

The rooms and hallways keep going, how is it this elaborate? How did Impulse never notice? He wants to claw his hair out. There’s one room with a parrot and jukebox, which he supposes is nice, but the innocence and wholesomeness of it makes it worse, somehow. His least favourite find is the peak holes. Tiny little trapdoors and gaps looking out into Impulse’s base, presumably for the sole purpose of watching him. By the thefts alone, he knows this has been going on for ages, but he suspects this person has been here for even longer. Weeks and weeks of someone watching him, without him knowing. He’s shaking now.

On the topic of thefts, at least his suspicions were confirmed. Throughout the rooms, he finds little things he had stolen, most of which he didn’t even realise were gone. He’s not sure if he wants them back, anymore. He finds most of the things in the bedroom. Some of his books crammed into a bookcase, trophies and cards displayed on a shelf as if they were earnt by this mystery person instead of Impulse, and his sheep plushie in the middle of the messy bed. He picks it up. He wants this back, at least. It has some hairs on it, human hairs. Hurriedly, he scrapes them off. Its fur is a little messed up from being in the bed, the person probably cuddled with it in their sleep. He doesn’t want to think about that. He sits in the centre of the room and hugs the toy to his chest.

He needs to talk to someone, right now, he thinks distantly. He needs support. He pulls out his communicator. His fingers are trembling. Zed isn’t too good with serious things and Tango’s too solution-oriented, he texts another friend.

<ImpulseSV>: i;.m not feelinhg great rn somethings happehned come over pleasd <Grian>: ill be right there! :)

[jaybird-fanfics]

Burnt Out: Chapter Fourteen

Warning(s): Stabbing, Torture, Gore, Violence, Death

You only sat in silence as you heard the heat of the battle between Dabi and Ryuji going on. As hopeless as you felt in this moment, you wished that Dabi would be alright. You'd hope that if the fight ended in Ryuji's favor, Dabi would realize it was a losing battle and would retreat. Even if you would still be here, Ryuji still keeping hold of you, it would be better than Dabi being killed. Your shoulders began to tremble and tears rolled down your cheeks. This wasn't suppose to happen. None of this was suppose to happen. Your life wasn't meant to go in this direction, Toya was never suppose to be a villain, and he shouldn't be here right now risking his life for you. It wasn't fair. If you could go back and time, and do something differently, you would have. If it meant that things would have turned out better for you and Toya, you would have done it in a split second. You sobbed silently, begging to whatever god that was out there, that he would be ok. You'd give anything, do anything, if it guarantees his well being.

Suddenly the sound of breaking glass caught your attention. You gasped sharply and lift your head to look around. Your eyes landed on a near by window in the bedroom. Your narrows your eyes for a moment before widening them as you saw who was climbing through the window. "You look like you're in a bind." They landed on their feet as they found their way in. "Need a hand?"

"Toga?" You mutter. "What are you doing here? How did you find this place?" You ask her, as she walks over to you. "I did a little snooping around." Toga says with a shrug. "Dabi was acting really weird tonight. He seemed a bit frazzled so, I trailed him to see what was happening. I had a feeling it had something to do with you, and it turns out I was right." She says with a smirk. She then pulls out a knife and starts cutting at the ropes tying your body down to the chair. "Why are you doing this?" You ask, very confused by her actions. She only shrugs. "Dabi seems to really like you." She removes the rope around your body. "Clearly you two have history. And besides that, Dabi's my friend so, if he thinks you're worth saving, then I'm with him." You were surprised by her words. But you didn't question it as you stood from the chair on weak legs. You leaned on a near by wall, trying to find your bearings. Toga looks at the closed door of the bedroom. "Dabi's out there fighting that guy all by himself. I should go and help him." She says as she takes a step towards the door. "Wait." You say, stopping her. "Ryuji's quirk is very dangerous. You have to be careful or he'll kill you." You warn her. Toga gives you a blank look. "My quirk's pretty dangerous too. So is Dabi's."

"Yes but. If he uses it on you, you'll be rendered useless." You say before beginning to explain. "His quirk is called blood manipulation. If he can control your blood, he can control you're whole body. And all it would take for him to do that, is just one small cut. So long as blood has been drawn from you, his quirk will activate. And there is no getting out of it." You tell her. Toga hums. "I see." She places a finger to her chin as she thinks. Then a sinister grin graces her features. "You know, this whole talk of blood has given me an idea." Toga steps over to you. You were confused, but you were willing to hear her out if it meant Dabi would be safe. So, you nod your head. "Alright. Let's hear it."

"How the hell did you get out of those ropes?" Ryuji asks you before his eyes fall onto the knife you held. "And where did you get that?" You said nothing, only gripping the knife tighter. Ryuji's spur expression turned into one of amusement. "What? You gonna stab me?" He asks with a chuckle. Ryuji walks closer to you, your hands began to shake slightly. "You've got some nerve, pointing that thing at me." He says lowly. "You just keeping getting more and more stupid. I was I not thorough enough earlier?" He was only inches away from you now, the end of the knife just barely touching his abdomen. He smirks as he continues to speak. "I don't think you can do it. Not everything I've given you. I housed you, fed you, gave your life new meaning. If it weren't for me, you'd be dead a long time ago. Knowing all that? You wouldn't dare do it." You tried to keep your expression cold and uncaring, but your trembling hands gave you away. "I know I've been tough on you. But I only do it because I care about you. And believe me, I could be way worse. And there is defiantly worse people out there than me. You should consider yourself lucky to have ended up with me." Ryuji glances back at Dabi. If looks could kill, Ryuji would be a dead man. "And as for him? He won't be any better. He can't give you what you want. He's a villain after all. He wouldn't be able to give you that perfect story book ending. Where you fall in love, and start a big happy family. He can't take care of you. And you know it." He looks back to you. Your head hung low, knife lowering slightly. "So why bother? Why not stick to what you know? What you're use to? At least with me, you have a roof over your head. And money for food and clothes. You'd never have to work a boring desk job for that stuff. It's all a gift to you, sweet thing."

You went silent, Ryuji's grin growing wider. "I'm glad you understand. Now how about you put that knife away." You nod. Then suddenly, a small giggle left your lips, which turned into a full on laughing fit. Ryuji didn't have time to process what was happening, before the knife was plunged deep into his stomach. "Mind if I leave it there?" You ask smugly, a wicked grin plastered on your face. Even Dabi was confused, it was short lived however, when he felt feeling back in his arms. He wasted no time, as he sent a way of fire towards Ryuji. You moved out of the way just as the fire engulfed his body. Dabi brought himself to a stand before calling your name. His eyes widened for a second as he watched your figure melt and change. His shock died down as he realized just what was happening. "I know you said not for me to get involved." Toga places a hand on her hip. "But I can't let you have all the fun."

"Toga." Dabi sighs. He couldn't be annoyed, he was thankful for her help. He asked for where you were. Just as he did, you walked out from the bedroom. You glanced down at Ryuji's body. The flames were dying down, he was still alive, telling from his groans of agony. As soon as Ryuji saw you, he let out a strangled yell of anger as he reached for you. Dabi stomped down on his back roughly to keep him down. "Toga. Take her back to my place, I'll meet up with you later." Toga nods and leads you out of the house, leaving just Ryuji and Dabi alone. You gave one last look to Dabi. You silently prayed that he would come back from this alive, before leaving with Toga. "What did I tell you asshole?" Dabi mutters, digging his foot harder into his back. "I told you I was gonna kill you. But I think I might fuck you up a little first." More fire erupted from Ryuji's body, he let out more wails. Dabi smiled at his pain, and he was just getting started. He extinguished the flames before it could do too much damage. He didn't want Ryuji dead just yet.

"You picked the wrong woman motherfucker." Dabi moves his foot away, only to stomp it down onto Ryuji's head. "And you picked the wrong person to piss off." Dabi crouched down, and grabbed Ryuji by the hair, jerking his head upward. Dabi then pressed his thumb slightly below Ryuji's right eye, slowly heating it up. "How many black eyes did you give her?" Dabi asks lowly before dragging his thumb up and pressing it against Ryuji's eye. Dabi delighted in his screams. He left his thumb there for a few more seconds before pulling it away. He moved his hand down to Ryuji's mouth. "How many times did your filthy mouth touch her?" Dabi forces his hand inside Ryuji's mouth and grabbed his tongue, he wailed as his tongue heated up to a near scorching degree. Dabi made sure to give his lips the same treatment. Dabi then grabbed his neck, burning his handprint into his throat. "God, choking the life out of you sounds so damn tempting." He says as he squeezes harder, adding more heat to his touch. The more Dabi looked at Ryuji, the more angry he became. He drew his free hand back and punched him hard across the face. "You hit her like this too, didn't you?" He asked before punching him again. "I bet you didn't let up when she begged and cried for you to stop." Another punch. "Did you enjoy hearing her screams?" Another. "Did you enjoy seeing her cry?" Another. And another. More and more until sharp crunching could be heard. Ryuji's face was bloodied and broken, near deformed at this point. Dabi squeezed harder at his throat, more heat coursing through his palm.

Ryuji's cried became nothing more than weak pathetic garbles. And Dabi didn't stop, until his body became still. Dabi finally dropped him onto the ground. "See you hell fuck face. Can't wait to do this all over again once I get there." Dabi says lowly as he walked away from him. Before Dabi left the house, he turned back and sent wave upon wave of fire out everywhere. The house would burn along with Ryuji inside it. Dabi turned back and walked out of the burning home. Dabi took a cigarette out from his pocket and lit it up before taking a long drag from it. He looked up at the night sky, a smile finding it way onto his face. He chuckled and flicked the cigarette off somewhere before walking away from the inferno behind him.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

reading your tags and realizing the angst potential of the childhood friends AU :3c (I love angst with fluff/good endings sm, cannot handle ones with none at all :,D)

like. imagine being his best friend when you two were young, knowing he's changed ever since you lost him for a few days, but you were there for him, hoping things will be okay. then you meet up with him, and things looked very promising! you knew him too well and he's almost the same Ajax you knew and adored! possibly pining for each other too hehe

that was until you caught him murdering someone you likely knew (but you weren't close or anything, you just know them from work maybe?) and seeing the look in his eyes, realized this isn't his first, second, or third time doing this. you knew the light in his eyes was gone when you found him again, you knew he was different, he was resorting to violence and you did expect him to still be like that, honestly. but not like this. the betrayal hits you hard, but you still gave him a chance. albeit it, at the cost of how betrayed and a bit emotionless towards him. it was different but you tried to warm up, even if this was the outcome.

imagine meeting Legacy for the first time though… he's having a meltdown, you probably heard or seen him once or twice, but not a lot. (probably in your childhood though eheh~) you'd approach him cautiously, trying to hush him down a bit. Legacy better kneels down because you'll gently hold his face, rest your forehead against his and murmur some soft words that you used to tell Ajax when he was upset as a kid. even if you're betrayed, it wasn't fair for you to feel like that towards Legacy, knowing they're somewhat different? you're not leaving his side even if he calms down, gently telling Legacy to please be okay and know that you're not mad at him.

possibly even saying that even if you're betrayed, you don't hate Ajax, because surely he's there listening, right? you're just upset that things turned out to be like this, but you can't hate him even if you honestly wanted to. you feel like you should, but you can't. he's your first, and only friend you have, and is someone you deeply cherished.

right now, you want him to know that it's okay, things will work out slowly. well, you want Legacy to know that the most.

(may or may not be a re-occurring anon dropping some minor scenarios i'm too shy and i don't wanna flood your inbox with some ramblings ah- I love your FL content so much thank you for blessing us with this <3 <3)

aaaa you and me both, anon!!!! angst with happy endings is my bread and butter, since i love writing feelings but i want everyone to end up happy :D

oh but just imagine Foul Legacy inside Ajax's mind, watching you witness your best friend kill someone, watching you step back in horror- he whines so desperately, clawing at the boundary between Ajax's body and his to tell you not to be afraid, to hold you close and show how much they both truly care for you because he, the Abyssal half of your friend, loves you too

but he's too weak, and is stuck watching you grow closed off and wary of Ajax- it's so hard to give him a second chance when you're having doubts that he ever cared for you at all

so when you finally come face-to-face with Foul Legacy, he thinks you're going to despise him- after all, he represents everything that changed and warped Ajax into how he is today, so why wouldn't you hate him? but instead you approach slowly, whispering and hushing him to calm his frazzled nerves until he can at least tell the world apart, leaning into your touch as an anchor to reality so you can wipe away his tears. you can tell immediately, whether by the soft whines that slip from his fanged mouth or the way his claws wrap around your hands, that Foul Legacy is not Ajax- or at least, not entirely. so you settle yourself beside him, linking your hands around your knees and striking up a conversation about anything and everything to help him calm down. eventually you hear his breathing even out, occasionally rumbling or humming in response to something you said, and suddenly a weight settles on your shoulder as he unabashedly snuggles his face into your neck

it's been so long since you've been this close to him or Ajax, and when you pet his hair Foul Legacy shivers and purrs

he listens to you talk about the recent years and your conflicted feelings, the way you know you should hate Ajax but just can't, how you're so lonely all the time because you really can't bring yourself to believe that Ajax even considers you a friend anymore, and Foul Legacy whimpers at the way your voice hitches as you hold back tears

but then you smile, just barely, and scritch behind his horns, saying that there's no way you could ever hate him- none of this is his fault after all, and Foul Legacy's been nothing but sweet to you. you're not sure when he'll have to disappear and Ajax will return, but at least you can stave off the loneliness and savor his presence while it lasts, curling up in his arms and listening to his deep, rumbling purrs of relief

[moonfurthetemmie]

Entropy

just for funsies here he is again. look at him isn't he pretty (pretty MISERABLE lmaooo gottem) (,,,really though. he is miserable.)

Looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He probably hasn’t.

Just generally looks frazzled. he is straight up never having a good time

Wings are useless. pretty, tho. More yellow because they came from Dream.

Despises himself and boy does it show most of the time. his hair hasn't been brushed since he Happened.

Definitely not be taking care of himself as much as he should be

Two moods: Angry/Spiteful and Tired. He can tone the angry down, but really only bothers around Jasper. Hanging out with Jasper for a while will eventually shift his mood to Tired. this is supposed to be Tired and he still looks mad

his clothes are usually barely coherent. Anything that reminds him of Obsidian or Dream he absolutely hates, but those are also things that he likes. As sort of a compromise with himself he mixes stuff from Dream’s general style and Obsidian’s general style. Really only in form and function, though.

For colors he usually goes for something neutral, or sometimes white, but when he’s out of fucks to give it’s just a mess. He tries to avoid black, but…black goes with a lot of things. So if he has some fucks to give but not enough to put a lot of effort into it, he ends up with a fair bit of black.

weirdly chill about stealing clothes, considering he's partly Dream…? maybe he's too pissed and tired to really think about it. Stealing clothes isn't on the same level as other shit, anyway

As both Dream and Obsidian are used to wearing a necklace around, he wears one, but it’s not Dream’s or Obsidian’s. Obsidian’s one necklace wasn’t necessarily important to him like the charm from Ani was to Dream, but it was something he wore a lot

On the off chance that Dream and Obsidian end up intentionally fusing multiple times, he will steadily get more chill with his existence. He's never happy about it though

Dream's Lawful Good and Obsidian's Chaotic Evil makes Entropy bounce around the alignment chart like a windows screensaver.

He's inherited Dream's sword skills and Obsidian's enhanced physical strength. If he can reach an equilibrium/peace, he will discover that he can, in fact, still fly. and also summon thunderstorms. uh. watch out?

Entropy's having the worst time of them all. Dream and Obsidian were on two very different ends of a morality spectrum and *really* didn't like each other, and unfortunately for Entropy that has resulted in him hating both of them and, by extension, himself.

You can't ever really tell what he'll do in any given situation. He might try to help one time, and he might intentionally try to make it worse another time. He might think he should let these people who clearly didn't do anything wrong go, or he might say 'nah. fuck them up. it'll be fun'

And there's pretty much no instance in which he's not somehow conflicted about whatever he's doing.

He avoids the JMV manor, Obsidian's whole team, and JR. Dream and Obsidian both would hate people knowing they were fused with this other bastard.

There is one exception, and that is Jasper. This started as a one-off joke about the only thing Entropy not being conflicted about was having Jasper cook for him still, and now it's just canon. Haven't figured out if he's dragging Jasper all over hell or if he's actually staying somewhere, though. Either way, because Jasper's cooking being fucking amazing is the only thing Dream and Obsidian would ever agree on, Jasper is the only one who's ever seen Entropy even kind of calm. he's not sure how he feels about this

Jasper needs to get away from him though. See, Entropy has inherited several things from Obsidian. Things that Jasper is already, unfortunately, rather familiar with. But Entropy has also inherited Dream's social skills, so he knows how to convince Jasper to stick around regardless.

before we go any further i would just like it to be on the record that I am aware that i made entropy the unflattering (to put it lightly) bipolar stereotype. i did not mean to. but upon realizing that in the discord server, one of my friends said it made sense with the character and he's right so off we go

In the instances where Entropy is trying to convince Jasper to stay, and is saying he won't do any of that shit again, he probably does intend to stop, but then the 'other side' comes out. He could stop. He could. But he's too deep in his absolute self-hatred that he hasn't bothered to figure out how. also he's trying to find a way to un-fuse and end his suffering so why bother improving yourself to keep your friend hahaha

Entropy is trying to be very careful with him, regardless of which of his halves he's feeling most like. Because even when he's acting more like Obsidian, there's still clearly a fair amount of influence from Dream's personality. and dream has already lost several people he cares about. Entropy couldn't handle being the reason he loses Jasper

Dream’s sword isn’t part of his magic; it’s a tangible, entirely physical object. This means, unless something happened to it before he and Obsidian fused, Entropy still has it. Entropy has very mixed feelings about it, but this is one of the few times when he doesn’t sabotage himself.

As much as he may want to snap it in half at times, just to stick it to Dream, he knows he’s the only one who’s really going to be upset about it. And it’s going to be more painful than he can bear. He probably doesn’t carry it around anymore, though, out of fear that he’s going to do something really impulsive and stupid one day. Same with his charm from Ani, and Obsidian's signature necklace (though to a much lesser degree; it doesn't have the same emotional significance)

Also. Jasper...As I said, Jasper needs to get the fuck out. But unless something happened prior to Entropy becoming Entropy, he has some of Obsidian’s magic in him. Which Obsidian did specifically so he could track everyone in the manor in case they tried to escape. Jasper will not be able to get away from Entropy. If he thinks he’s managed to get away, he should start praying that Entropy is just trying to find a good bribe to get him to stay and isn’t planning some horrible ‘punishment’

If he’s around and there was gay shit happening with him and Obsidian, Entropy’s feelings around Jet are probably very similar to his feelings about Dream’s sword and the charm. Jet’s the only thing Obsidian cares about other than himself, even if he denies it. So as much as Entropy may think he deserves to die, he can’t do it. It’d do him more harm than good.

Oh, yeah. One more thing.

Obsidian's team, the Meme Squad, Justice Reigns, and the Resistance in JMV are all working together to try and un-fuse Entropy. the resistance is being super shady about who they are but Obsidian's team just silently agrees to pretend they 100% believe their 'underground militant organization' isn't the resistance.

Aaand, as a side effect of all this confusion, Jade and Zuli got out! i was thinking they ended up staying with the Meme Squad but I don't remember if I said anything about it or if I just thought it really hard.

bonus from the discord server

also he almost got a mullet