#also you know for sure i was freaking out over Spike coming back

[asydicsydney]

So, you're telling me the Elements of Unity are...

Hope, Courage, Confidence, Creativity, Empathy, and Kindness

Dear Celestia, I was right for Fluttershy being my favorite

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Get ready for my ✨️Palace of Alcazarzaray✨️:🎉

So... Almighty Creator of Teyvat Reader. We all know that the original inhabitants of Teyvat are dragons, so that means, Almighty Dragon!Creator.

Almighty Dragon!Creator who has a rivalry/resentment/tense relationship when it comes to The Primordial One because of their shades.

Almighty Dragon!Creator who thinks of the original Dragon sovereigns as their children.

Almighty Dragon!Creator who stays and watches over Teyvat, slowly their resentment lessens(even if they stay bitter because their children's powers were taken by outlanders) as they watch their teyvat, their teyvat, get more lush and green and just. Their teyvat becomes full of life and wonder.

Almighty Dragon!Creator who watches Khaenri'ah's fall in solemn silence, who looks at the children of stars in pity. Yet they are not their domain, so they cannot help(or can they).

Almighty Dragon!Creator who watches the traveler's journey, who finds intrigue in the silver companion who looks oh so similar to the Primordial One.

Almighty Dragon!Creator who watches the traveller go through nations, who watches them help Their Children. Who cannot help buy beam at this outlander who helps their children(even if one is still dead(orobashi), even if one will never get his power back(dvalin), even if one has shattered in two and has lost himself(azdaha), and even if one lost theirself to madness(apep), one gets his power back(Neuvillette) and they are so happy for him.)

All I'm saying is: Almighty Dragon!Creator who gets attached to both the Traveller, but also who gets attached to Paimon because of her relation to the Primordial God in some way or another.

Oh and Neuvillette Fluff with them.

- Starboy Anon

Wowie, Starboy Anon! This is a lot of info!

Not saying it's bad (I loredump as heavy as this when it comes to my own stuff), but I certainly have too many headcanons for your headcanons to write a Sagau!Character x Creator!Reader request!

Starboy Anon you have NO IDEA how much I am of a sucker for Azhdaha and Dvalin. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW DID YOU FIND MY HIDDEN WEAKNESSES—

I care very little about the Shining Shades and the Primordial One, so apologies for skipping over them in this headcanon request!

Headcanons: Primordial Dragon Reader—All Shall Bow and Respect Thee As They...Uh...

(Warning: Might Be OOC!)

Alright, pretending that Reader had ZERO RESTRICTIONS on what they can do NOW...Allow this idiotic Ghost Rebel to demonstrate their favoritism benevolence:

Dvalin Headcanons:

Reader absolutely adores Dvalin to bits. You Cannot tell me otherwise. They will literally give this dragon the world if they could.

Reader would definitely give them a human form if Dvalin ever wished to use it to mingle with the mortals in Mondstadt—In fact, Reader would be their tour guide (I have zero references of how Dvalin's mortal form would look like, but I imagine it'd look like a playable character skin—in other words, a very cool one)

I like to imagine that Dvalin loves music so much, he digs into Monstadt's traditional music and begs Reader to have Venti (or another bard) play the tune he finds.

Reader would definitely be the overprotective parent that absolutely hates it when others try to flirt with their children. Dvalin is clueless to these flirtatious attempts, so Reader is helicopter parenting so hard rn LOL

FLOWER CROWNS OMG. I imagine Dvalin would love those! Reader is going to indulge them with so many of them! Even better if Dvalin makes friends (obviously with the Traveler, Paimon, and Venti—those guys are naturally invited)

Reader would let Dvalin try any cuisine, but if it's anything related to alcohol, Reader is definitely going to make sure they are a) not spiked, and b) Dvalin takes a very little amount of it.

Reader's the kind of parent to see their child get a scratch on their skin and freak out and treat it like it's a very bad wound. I think you know where this is going.

Oh, and you know the Abyss Order that kind of manipulated Dvalin? No, you don't—because they no longer exist :)

Would definitely fly with Dvalin in their dragon form, or in their human-dragon form. Whichever Dvalin likes, Reader will follow suit!

Azhdaha Headcanons:

MY DRAGON BOYYYY LETS GOOOO *Aggressive Truck Noises Because Ghost Rebel Can't be Biased—*

Ahem, anyways. Considering that Azhdaha has a bit of something akin to dissociative identity disorder, Reader definitely treats the guy with extra care, opting to entertain both of Azhdaha's "personalities."

Yes, Reader fixes the erosion and memory problem. Yes, Reader gave them a new dragon body that is not purely made out of rock so that it doesn't erode too quickly. Yes, they also gave their child a human form (yk in Zhongli's story quest, Azhdaha took two appearances? Forget those two merging together—just take the color palette off of Azhdaha's dragon form and make something >:) I like to imagine a part of his hair or his eyes glows a certain color depending on the element he's wielding in his human form)

Reader shows them around all of Liyue, considering Azhdaha never really had the chance to see it properly. I like to think Azhdaha would listen to every single piece of information given to them like a sponge in water. Anything that's new or interesting to this guy, he is not backing down from it.

Now, I know the million dollar question: Does Azhdaha get scammed like Zhongli? No, because Reader is always there glaring at merchants that dare try to mess with their children in any way possible. They're also there, telling their child all about commerce and the ways of the trade—something that Azhdaha is into considering mining and ores are technically also in the business industry.

You know the guy that got blessed by Azhdaha, who can now see if rocks are valuable ores or not? Yes, believe it or not, but I believe Azhdaha would 100% check up on the mortal despite being completely tsundere and in denial about it.

HIKING! I think Azhdaha would like to have the mobility to hike—after all, in his dragon form, he's kind of the hefty and large side, so he can't exactly move fast or be nimble. I think he'd really like this change of pace!

Apep Headcanons

No huma form. She refuses to be compared to or even look like mortals. That is something Reader respects.

Technically Reader's eldest child so far. Reader kind of spoils them with loads of things only they can now make for Apep—maybe like flowers, or certain foods, etc. etc.

I like to imagine Apep secretly loves private affection. Reader giving Apep so many dragon hugs, or cuddles, or head pats. Reader spoiling them with literally anything they got lol—

Unfortunately, there's not much I can write for Apep :') There isn't enough lore for me to write on for them....

Neuvillette Headcanons

Reader 100% indulges him in his hobbies of tasting every bit of water.

Fusses over him because he's the Iudex and Reader practically almost curses out Focalors for giving their child such a demanding task, but also thanks her for showing him the ways of mortals yk. Love-Hate relationship.

Reader would bring him certain foods once they figured out what kind of mortal foods he likes.

Melusines? THEY BOTH LOVE THEM, THEY ARE NOW CREATOR'S GRANDCHILDREN (if I remember the lore correctly, I'm pretty sure they are considering they were born from a dragon??)

Reader looks out for Furina whenever they can because Neuvillette is truly Furina's #1 Fan bro—but only because Reader loves Neuvillette and doesn't want him to stress himself out.

THEY WILL KEEP THE SOUP LADLE (yk from that one Lantern Rite event? Neuvillette made a soup ladle in a theme of a dragon?) Anything Neuvillette will make, Reader is KEEPING IT in their DRAGON HOARD.

And that's all I have! Hope you find this good, Starboy Anon! :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: It's been so long since I wrote headcanons! This was a LOT LONGER than I thought it'd be LOLL. Hope you all enjoyed it though! :)

Seeing as we're close to 1000 Followers, I might be posting a follower event very soon 👀 Hopefully I won't die immediately once I post it! (If Tumblr eats your request, I am leaving) Anyways—I'll see you all next time! >:D

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel��s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[juno-verse]

Sports Car

Summary: We can uh-uh in it.

Top!Dani, Car sex mhm, Dani and her red Mustang, Strap, Talks of exhibitionism but I promiseeee no one can see, Semi-public, calling her 'mami'

A/N: Oops, I got distracted, this is not part of the Juno Series. I just got inspired by Tate's new album. I'm sorry to my CM and Marvel followers! My international girl group is coming through. (Should I create a separate account or just a master list?)

I also might have butchered some Spanish phrases, I apologize. Please correct me if I misused them!

Also... I just know her strap game is insane. Taking reqs for her bc she’s so pretty hihi

Now Playing: Sports car - Tate McRae

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Her baggy denim jeans hung loosely around her hips and her muscles flexed in time with the music. Her crop top clung tightly to her body, emphasizing every move she made. Her movements were sharp and precise but also seemed so smooth and sensual. 

Daniela Avanzini danced in such an intentional way, every move done to keep your eyes on her and capture everyone’s attention. And right now, she has all of yours. It was like the other members weren’t even present in this practice room.

Or maybe, it’s because you were deeply in love with Dani.

The girls were used to having you around, loved it even. The first time you were introduced happened around the area after all, as you stayed frequently in a cafe they often visited down the street.

After finding out that you always waited in the cafe for Dani to finish practice—and that time they caught you waiting outside the studio because the cafe was already closed—they started inviting you to stay in the studio as soon as you were finished with your work.

So they started letting you in, they just reminded you often to keep quiet about the things you see in the studio. 

Not that you pay attention, given how much you only look at one certain woman.

So much so that you felt like a peeping freak right now sitting at the back of the room and watching your girlfriend with a searing look. Your eyes followed every drop of sweat that trailed down her chest and your gaze lingered on that sliver of her white boxer shorts peeking out from her jeans. The hardened muscles on her stomach looked good enough to ride and it showed in the way you were looking at her.

The way her hips moved reminded you of the long nights spent under her body. Her hips rammed against the back of your thighs as you took her in, her years of dancing made sure her stamina never depleted. 

Your cheeks reddened and your heartbeat spiked at your invasive thoughts. You feared that if someone were to look at you now, they would know exactly what you were thinking about.

And as soon as you thought that, you caught Daniela’s eyes and her smirk in the mirror. Now, every single move she made was done to tease you. Knowing that your eyes were on her and that you were in such a state because of her, pushed the blonde to dance more alluring. Every sway, every thrust, and every tired grunt seemed to be aimed your way. 

Even with her years of experience, she still somehow found a way to make her movements more enticing. 

As soon as their dance instructor dismissed them, you thanked whatever higher being there was for ending your Daniela-induced torment. The said girl gestured that she’d be right back, going with the girls to the comfort room to change out of their sweaty clothes. 

It was nothing new as they often had their own short debriefings while in the bathroom. The blonde had other plans in that bathroom, however.

The desperation you felt in the studio had yet to subside as you waited next to Daniela’s red Mustang in the parking lot. You were trembling in your own skin as you watched her walk closer to you while saying goodbye to her friends. Daniela had a gym bag slung over her shoulder as her gray sweatpants hung low on her hips, boxers still peeking out, and her hoodie tucked under her sports bra.

“Enjoyed the view?” The blonde smirked as she leaned against the driver’s door. Daniela looked so beautiful in front of you right then—bare-faced with her natural curls loose. She looked gorgeous, even with that frustrating smug look that made your knees weak.  It took everything in you not to get on your knees and worship the woman—her V-line looked deep enough to cut you open. 

Daniela loved how much her dancing affected you and used that to her advantage, every single time.

It took a lot for you not to falter and somehow, in her presence, you still did.

“You-! You’re teasing me.” You huffed out and made your way to the passenger side. Daniela beat you to it and apologized playfully as she opened the door for you.

“For my princesa, my pretty but distracting passenger princess.” She left a lingering kiss by the corner of your lips and closed the door when you sat down, with a bright blush on your cheeks and a soft ‘thank you.’ The nickname and her Spanish accent had an instant effect on you: jellied legs and crimson cheeks.

As soon as Daniela was settled in the driver’s seat, you questioned her. “Hey! What do you mean by distracting?” You scoffed playfully, you really didn’t want to be a bother to her during practices. But time and time again, she had assured you that she loved having you there. Something about the girls saying she danced even better with you around.

Daniela started the engine and the sports car purred to life, the owner smiled at the sound. She loved this Mustang more than anything, a proof of her hard work through the years. So to you, the blonde looked attractive like this. With her long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and her other hand on the gearshift. Your mind was wandering to other places like where else her fingers would look and feel good.

She pulled out of the parking lot and smirked at you once again, “That. That look on your face is why you’re distracting, baby. You look like you’re about to eat me alive.” 

Even with the cold air in the car, it did nothing to stop the growing flush on your cheeks. You were caught red-handed. 

“And it’s distracting when you look at me like that. I made a mistake today. Me!” Daniela raised her hands in exasperation as you laughed and shook your head. 

“Ah, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. I’m sorry I was distracting you.” You apologized, leaning over as you kissed her softly on the jaw. The muscles flexed against your lips and a prominent gulp made its way down Daniela’s throat.

“It’s not my fault you look so good.” You admitted weakly as you sat back down with your body facing her. One of her hands stayed on the steering wheel but the other went on your upper thigh. You felt your skin contract when Daniela left her hand there, your body so reactive to her touch. It was so close to where you wanted her.

Her playlist blared in the background, as she hummed distractedly. Daniela could feel the heat radiating from your center, her fingers were itching to move. So she drew tight circles on your skin.

Daniela thinks she heard your breath hitch.

I think you know what this is.

She smiled with reddened ears and said, “Thank you, princesa. But it took everything in me not to take you in front of everyone right then and there.”

I think you wanna uh…

A familiar shiver went down your spine as Daniela quickly took her eyes off the road to look at you so heatedly. In that brief glance, you saw your desire reflected back at you. It was like looking at your own reflection—lust-heavy eyes and flushed cheeks.

No, you ain’t got no Mrs.

You couldn’t believe someone who prioritized the safety of her car more than anything would take a dangerous moment just to admire you. Daniela took a glance at you at every red light, her eyes memorizing you. 

Oh, but you got a sports car.

This time you also unabashedly took the time to memorize her features. The soft glow of car lights gently framed her face. You took notice of the way she maneuvered the steering wheel with practiced ease, her palm guiding it so smoothly. You watched her intensely and smiled at the way she drove. Her driving style was akin to a player who has a million girls on her roster.

We can uh-uh in it,

You tested the brewing waters, “You know, you drive like a guy, Dani. You look like you’re about to fuck me in the backseat then break my heart.” It was a joke, a halfhearted one. You don’t know where that came from but it was what you noticed every time she drove you home. 

Or maybe, it’s what was going through your mind watching her the entire night.

While you drive it real far.

Daniela’s fingers tightened around your thigh and her index finger briefly twitched, tracing your clothed wetness. You let out a strangled moan at the sudden sensation that shot through your body. At the sound of your voice, Daniela was quick to find an almost empty parking lot and stopped the car. 

Yeah, you know what this is.

“I can do one of those things, mi amor. I can fuck you in my backseat now, but I will never break your heart,” Daniela’s hands grabbed your hips and urged you to climb over the center console to straddle her lap, “You own my heart, you know?”

She looked at you with so much conviction that it made your heart skip a beat, “You own mine, Dani.”

However, the soft moment quickly dissipated in the next second, the heated tension slicing through it. Daniela wanted to see you shatter for her.

“But I can break you in other ways though.” Daniela added as you felt something poke your center when you sat down on her lap. You let out a surprised gasp, “Fuuuck, Dani… that’s not fair.” You whined as you started to grind down on the plastic toy hidden under her sweats. “When did you even have the time to put this on?” You gasped as she pushed you down on the toy, moving your hips back and forth on her lap like a fuck toy.

Daniela chuckled smugly, “I caught on the moment I saw the way you were looking at me. So I wore your favorite toy as soon as practice finished.” She smirked as she continued to watch the way you moved on top of her, enjoying the satisfaction of rubbing your clit against her toy. You had the nerve to blush brightly and tried to hide your face in the crook of her neck.

Were you that obvious? Daniela answered for you.

“God, you’re always so easy to read, princesa. So fuckin’ easy for me.” Her words were affecting you immensely, setting your nerves on fire. Daniela left open-mouthed kisses on your neck and trailed up to your lips. You gave in to her instantly.

Your arms wrapped around her neck with your fingers tangled in her curls as she kissed you roughly with her hands nearly bruising your hips. The feel of her mouth is not new to you but Daniela still managed to kiss you like she was drunk on your taste. The force of her body sent you reeling backward and your spine hit her steering wheel hard. 

Her car honked noisily, surprising you both and pulling you apart. 

With heaving breaths, Daniela pulled away from you slowly with a laugh, savoring each moment and each taste. She stared at you with hard eyes, searching for any signs of hesitation. And when she found none, Daniela was quick to take what she wanted from you, 

“Come on, then. Get in the backseat.” 

You eagerly obeyed the dancer and crawled towards her backseat. Once you were situated in the cramped backseat of her sports car, Daniela had you on all fours with your face against the tinted window of her car. She hurriedly pulled down your pants and panties, eager to get inside you and hear all the pretty noises you make for her. 

Daniela moaned at the wetness that pooled between your legs. All of that was because of her, and her ego seemed to triple in size. 

“I bet the others can see how desperate you were for me a while ago,” Daniela pushed your top and balled it up in her fist. You felt yourself heat up at her words—you were truly too far gone when it came to Daniela. Her tight grip on your clothes indicated how badly the woman behind you wanted to have her way with you. She was as eager as you were, so you quickly agreed and offered yourself to her, “Mhm… It’s all for you.”

Daniela hummed her agreement, “As it should always be, princesa.”

You looked back in time to see her pull down her sweats halfway to take out her cock, her prominent V-line peeking out from the hem of her sweats. You spent many hours tracing those lines by her hip bones, obsessed with how her muscles would twitch beneath your fingertips. It was a sight to see then, so you engraved it on your mind, but that doesn’t mean you would stop admiring them anytime soon.

Daniela savored the way your eyes traced her hardened muscles and thrust her hips forward, rubbing the toy against your wet pussy. And with every thrust, her stomach flexed and the indents on her hips deepened. 

You could combust at that moment, just at the mere sight of Daniela putting on a private little show for you and the feel of her cock on your cunt.

“So fucking hot, Dani.” You pushed back against her, wordlessly asking the woman to move faster and just have her way with you. Hearing your voiceless pleas, she slowly pushed her cock inside you. 

“Mierda,” Daniela cursed sharply at the tightness she was met with. The Latina dancer felt you grind back against her even more at that one simple word. She knew how much it turns you on whenever you hear her speak her mother tongue, so she does it around you as much as possible. 

She chuckled at your immediate reaction, “Que linda, mi amor.” 

You couldn’t understand what she was saying but it didn’t stop the pathetic whine that escaped your mouth at the words coming out of her mouth.

When she was all the way inside you, you were a begging crying mess under her, “It’s too big, Dani!” You sobbed as she stilled her hips, trying to let you adjust. Daniela cooed at you and rested her head on top of your shoulder to kiss your cheek in an attempt to soothe you. 

However, Daniela’s movement caused her hips to push deeper into you, making you cry out and grab at her thighs to try and stop her—the stretch getting a little too much for you. So much so that Daniela could feel it, feel how tight you were around the plastic toy.

Daniela placed both her hands on your hips and tried to let you adjust to her size. But looking down at you and seeing your eagerness, the Latina dancer unconsciously moved her hips. Around you, it was like she had no control over herself. You were too beautiful like this.

You immediately reached for the car window with your palm pressing against the glass in surprise. A scream of Daniela’s name had her apologizing profusely, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, baby. I can’t help it. You just look so pretty around my cock.” She left kisses on your shoulder and started to grind her cock into you slowly, gradually getting you used to her size.

When she noticed that your pained whines soon transformed into loud moans, Daniela quickened her pace inside you. She held your waist tightly while your face was pressed up against the window along with your palms. Every thrust rewarded Daniela with a resounding whimper of her name, “Oh my god, Dani! You feel so good!”

The windows started to fog up with every whine that hit the glass. Daniela grabbed a fistful of your hair and made you look outside the window as people passed by the red Mustang to get to their own cars. Some were stopping a few feet away from Daniela’s car, after all, a red Mustang did always catch the crowd’s attention. 

Daniela grinned at your attempts to quiet down, your teeth digging into your lower lip, nearly drawing blood. “What if they can see you through the tint, huh? See how tight and slutty you get for me? I bet you’d like that,” The dancer grunted through her thrusts as she watched the way you were tensing up, getting closer and closer to your orgasm.

You were quick to shake your head ‘no’ and disagree with her. You didn’t want anyone seeing you like this because you were hers—only hers to see and use. But with her words and her actions, your body can’t help but react otherwise. As much as you wanted to answer her, you feared that if you opened your mouth, loud moans would penetrate the glass. 

But Daniela was not having your silence. She gripped your hair tighter and whispered harshly in your ear, “Come on, tell me, princesa. Do you want others to see you like this? Let others touch what’s mine?” 

Daniela’s words rang in your ears, melting what dignity you had left and switching off your brain. “N-no! Please, mami, I’m yours. Only yours.” The title slipped accidentally, you didn’t even mean to say it. But with the overwhelming pleasure she was making you feel, you had no control of your mouth anymore.

Daniela groaned at the name, she felt shivers run down her back when she heard you speak in her language. “Se una buena chica para mami, princesa. Be a good girl for me,” So rather than stopping, Daniela fucked you even harder. Her hard cock pressing incessantly on that spot inside you. 

You had no time to worry whether people were seeing the car bounce from outside or not. You were too focused on the pleasure building up in your stomach.

“Fuck, Daniela! I’m gonna cum on your cock, mami, please!” You begged and Daniela only smiled widely at the sound of your voice, her hips unstoppable and ensuring that you felt good.

“Cum for me, princesa. Give them a show. Tell them why you’re mine.” Daniela commanded and you obeyed, a deafening moan spilling out of you as you came around her cock, “You make me feel so good, mami! I’m yours, fuck—!” You babbled uselessly as you trashed against her as if you weren’t in the backseat of her car.

The dancer watched with a proud smile as you came around her—she pressed gentle kisses to your spine as you rode your high. Daniela whispered praises in Spanish and English, reassuring and praising you endlessly.

When you calmed down, she pulled out of you and kissed your shoulder blades. You were breathing heavily as Daniela wiped the insides of your thighs with a clean towel from her gym bag. “You did such a good job, amor. Satisfied yet?” Daniela smirked as she urged you to sit back down on her lap. You whined at the toy still attached to her hips poking your throbbing clit.

You weren’t sure you would ever be satisfied when she looked good like this—legs spread confidently and her grip on your hips certain.

“Dani, you have to stop being this hot. I can’t keep coming home with shaky legs.” You complained half heartedly as you wrapped your arms around her neck and hovered over her thighs. “Aww, but you can’t go home yet. We still have to talk about you calling me mami.” She teased you as she placed you over the toy again. 

Your cheeks reddened as you mumbled a soft, “I didn’t mean to, you just felt too good in me.” Daniela reassured you with a soft kiss on your lips, “Oh, it was hot, baby. I need you to keep saying it.”

And so Daniela smirked, continuing, “Come on, don’t stop yet. You ride in my car all the time, so ride mami this time now, princesa.” 

- - -

And when the dancer was asked the next day why it took her a while before coming back to the girls’ shared house, all she did was shrug and laugh.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Mierda - "shit"

Que linda, mi amor - "How pretty, my love."

Se una buena chica para mami, princesa. - "Be a good girl for mommy, princess."

[revelboo]

I love the way all your stuff blends together sometimes

Do you plan that from the start? Or has it just kinda happened as you go?

Also all the different storylines you've got going is insane and admirable, I love reading your stuff(esp Alcohol eyes and Attractive today! Oh oh and the Future freaks me out <333)

Is there a certain plotline or character you've loved writing for the most so far?? Or one you weren't expecting to enjoy so much but do??

- can I call myself the taking care of Rumble anon lmao that was my first ask I sent to you

I knew when I started separating the storylines out into the broad categories on the Masterlist, that I’d want to weave the ones in those categories together as much as possible. It’s easier to do that writing them simultaneously. These short fics are a mimicry of how I outline actual stories. I get a ton of index cards and just write short form scenes on them.

I really wasn’t expecting to have as much fun with Metroplex as I’ve had- I had honestly initially thought the request might be a joke request and just kept thinking about it until I decided to do it anyway.

Gotta take of Rumble. 18+ content. 🌶️

Alcohol Eyes Pt 5

Rumble x Reader

• Groaning, you drag a pillow over the top of your head as the light slicing in through the blinds finds your face. Leg sliding until it connects with something warm and hard to mingle with your headache and it all comes rushing back. A bit too much to drink, your ex. Rumble. Breaking the bed at some point apparently.

• Optics squinting at the bright daylight, there’s a faint worry that Soundwave might just kill him when he finds him, but as he sits up some and sees your leg you’d kicked out from under the sheet and follows the bare skin all to way up to the middle of your back, his spike is hard all over again. Soundwave becoming a later problem. Reaching for you even though he knows he needs to suck it up and talk to you. Because at some point you’re going to figure out he’s not a human in a costume and he’s not looking forward to that or your reaction. Right now, though? “Come here,” he growls.

• Hearing the bed creak dangerously as he shifts behind you, grabs your hips and settles himself between your spread thighs. Draping himself against your back, his weight driving the air from your lungs before he braces himself on a forearm and hooks the other under your hips. “Baby, I’m not even awake,” you laugh, voice wavering into a moan when his servos cup you, stroking. Definitely not the worst way to wake up as he uses his arm to tip your hips up and buries his spike inside you in a slow drive. “Right there,” you sigh, fingers fisting the pillow as you rock your hips back to meet his lazy thrusts.

• That wet heat grips his spike as he moves against you, in no real hurry this time. Just savoring the feel of you. He’s been with Soundwave so long, but he’ll need his own quarters now, for you and him. Soft things like humans like. Hips curling as he moves faster, you make those lovely sounds as he thrusts deep. You’ll be happy with him, he’ll make sure of it. Groaning as you tighten on him, hips rocking against you as you milk his spike. Pressing his mouth against the back of your shoulder. “Hey,” he says.

• “Good morning to you, too,” you laugh, feeling him lazily buck his hips against you again even as his excess wets your thighs. “That’s some dedication sleeping in all that,” you add. Because he’s still in his costume. The arm hooked under your hips shifts as his mouth brushes the curve of your shoulder and slides along your neck and up behind your ear. And in the light of day, it’s a bit too real. Like this means more to him than just fantastic, toe curling sex. You like the guy, but aren’t sure how to break it to him that it was just sex and after your ex, you’re not sure you want a relationship. At least not right now.

• “So,” he begins, reluctantly sliding free of you and you roll half on your side to look up at him, arching your brows at him. Easing back to sit, your bed creaks dangerously as he stretches out to catch your smaller hand. “Not a costume. And I’m not human,” he says, bracing for the fear. Not expecting you to start laughing as he grimaces. Because you don’t believe him.

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[pedge-page]

I'm new to ur page idk if this is done but I...I want Joel to piss inside a plushie....

Puddles - a Plushies x PK drabble

Notes: I've been waiting to write this one so here we go! Can read more plushies!Joel through Plushies Series masterlist, though they can all be read as standalone fics

Warnings: Pisskink!Joel, piss kink, Drunk!Joel, solo masturbation with a stuffed animal, yes he is pissing inside poor plushie, plushie fucking briefly

18+ ONLY

- - - -

He may have gone a little bit overboard when Tommy invited him for the crew’s so-called ‘happy hour get together’. He knew they all liked to go out and celebrate with a few drinks after completing a project, and this last one they just wrapped up for some posh client with outrageous requests was no different. 

Joel usually liked to skip out on them. First, because he didn’t want to know what these clowns might be up to when they get tipsy, letting whatever sober-less things go on follow his mind to the next job site. But also because he’s getting too old for that college level shit. Hangovers aren’t nearly as fun when you’re pushing well past middle age. 

But, he didn’t want to be home alone since you were going to be working late.

So, two beers turned into twelve and a few more various alcohol spiked beverages here and there, and boom. Joel’s swaying side to side along the sidewalk with Tommy guiding him all the way up the front door.

“You sure you don’t need me, brother?” Tommy asks hesitantly. 

Joel, with lolling eyes and a grin, confidently waves him off after successfully entering his key into the door after 6 tries.

He stumbles through into the dark alone, and the first thing that hit him is how badly he wants to curl up on your plushie filled bed. He thought about you all night; your shampoo filling his nose when you cuddle him, the smooth streak of your naked back when you finish a shower, the wet indulgence of your pussy when he eats you out.

He’s never going to admit it, but the man is clingy as shit when you’re around. And he’s craving some much needed plushie pussy time.

Shit, the alcohol is really swimming in his brain. 

And, he realizes, with a firm and shiver-some squeeze to his crotch, elsewhere in his body. 

Ironically, the bathroom is not what beckons him.

With a devious smirk, he instead tumbles into the bedroom. Through the moonlit drapes, a wave of beady eyed babies stare back at him.

“Hello freaks,” he chuckles. They probably miss you too. Honestly it’s really rude, if you think about it, the way you abandon your buddies here AND Joel all in one night? Atrocious behavior. Someone ought to teach you better.

“Daddy’s home."

He falls forward, his knees catching the edge of the bed. An array of colorful volunteers practically jumping up and down at his presence to be engulfed by the precious aroma of Joel Miller.

That’s how drunk-Joel is seeing it. In reality, if they could run for their fluffy lives, they would. 

A quick hand snatches one yellow blob by its neck. His eyes struggle to get a clear picture—whether from the alcoholic haze or the darkness obscuring his vision. Possibly both. The dark bill and flappy arms come into focus.

“Duck,” he muses to himself. “Bet ya name is Duckie, some shit like that. She ain't good with the namein.” He rolls the unfortunate one over to its back, inspecting its caliber. Its definitely older: matted fur smushed down in certain areas, lack of vibrant coloring, some faded and torn edged fabric on its bow tie. Bitty holes sewn up here and there with mismatched (and poorly seemed) threaded needle. Your college waitressing job used to be for a place called the Quavern, so this little guy’s gotta be your graduation farewell from that team.

“Well mister Quakers. You n' me gonna get to know each other real well right now. Got something I need ya to hold f’me,” Joel slurs. One hand frees the button of his jeans while the other begins to prod at a loose tear in poor DuckDuck’s underside. He pokes and prods and scissors a little too harshly with his sausage fingers before a tell-tale rip echoes in the room. “Oops,” he chuckles with very little guilt as he forces the hole a bit wider and palms his crotch a bit harder. 

Yeah, he gets hard when touching your stuffed animals. He can’t help it! With all the naughty activities you do with them, they’re practically hug buddies by day, sex toy by night. His mind feels foggy, but the building sensation along his lower stomach is the only thing churning his actions. With a few lazy pumps, Joel slots his mushroom tip at the cottony hole he’s made in the poor plush. He pushes through, groaning with his head tossed slightly back as dry softness envelops his pulsing length. 

“Shit—that’s it. Take it little guy.” He bites his lips and peers below, watching his dick penetrate the stuffed animal.

He knows he should put it down, sew it up, put it back, and go do his business in the bathroom like a good, well trained boyfriend. But then again, he knows how fucking pissed you’ll be if he defiles your plushies again. Then you’ll never leave him unattended at home, and that means more pussy drinking and rubbing on these fuckers for him.

Joel doesn’t even realize he’s pissing inside the poor animal until it starts to sag heavily with the weight and wetness coating his hand. “Ooohhhhhhhhhh,” he gasps with furrowed brows. As his bladder empties, the duck grows damper and darker, the fur and cotton soaking it up from the inside out until it’s dripping down his ballsack.  He thrusts inside a few times, the warm wet sensation making him choke out a curse. It’s not quite like your pussy, but the heat is better than nothing. He pushes it flush against his pubic bone, another rush of liquid hissing through and muffled by Mr Quack’s soft innards.

If he wasn’t so fucking wasted right now, he’d fuck it into oblivion. give it the good ol'Miller beating. Fertilize its eggs, if you will. But with his bathroom situation now relieved, Joel yanks the thing off and chucks it to the ground. His brain collapses just as he falls towards the bed, drowning in his own much needed slumber.

-

you shake your head and laugh, hands on your hips at the sight in front of you.

Joel’s out cold face forward in your bed. His jeans are loosely wrapped around his hips and his old tee still on, so if it wasn’t for his loud snoring, you’d assume the man was dead. He hadn’t even made it fully on the bed, his tip toes still holding him up on the floor and legs dangling at an angle.

A few of your stuffed animals had managed to crawl out from underneath him, scattered around when he most likely dropped onto the bed. You pick them up one by one: dusty Carly the Crow, the now famed Mr Oinkers (with battery pack turned OFF), Whiskers the Cat, and poor old Puddles the Duc—

Your disgusted screech has Joel sitting up so fast he nearly capsizes off the bed. The confused, hungover lump is met with his bewildered and screaming girlfriend who’s yanking him by the neck and wringing him viciously with as much might as you can muster.

“STOP—FUCKING—PISSING—IN—MY—PLUSHIES!” You roar with wild eyes and gritted teeth, choking him within an inch of his life. You shake his neck up and down like you’re going to hammer his head into the bed post. 

It takes him a moment, with wide eyes and hands wrapped around your wrists, before his gaze lands on the poorly discarded evidence of last night: a very overly yellow duck soaking into the floor boards in a puddle of liquid gold.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

can you do the yandere dc boys with a hypersexual darling? i really love your writing and im glad you're back, its okay if you dont want to

𝐃𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…

!!! 18+ THEMES, GN reader, mentions of riding in Bruce’s, basic delusional yandere shit, manipulation, mean Dick Grayson, teasing, horny Hal Jordan, Tim being a freak, there’s honestly not much to warn… that’s weird.

Freaks of Tumblr, I summon thee.

I do want y’all to know that, while I tried to keep the dynamics vague, this has more of a sub + bottom leaning reader. That’s usually my default when it comes to sexual yan!character asks unless specified otherwise. If y’all wanna see a more top and/or dom reader version, hit me the fuck up. I heart obliterating fictional comic book men. It’s actually my specialty.

This is also operating under the assumption that you’ll at least let them help you out when you need it. Like… even if you absolutely hate their guts, you’ll at least call a truce when you need it. A necessary evil kind of thing. Again, if you have something else in mind, let me know.

Bruce Wayne: Contrary to popular belief, playboy Bruce Wayne is not a sex addict. However. He is a darling addict. And while he can’t afford to get nasty all the time, he’ll do his best to accommodate. I can see him letting you ride him while he tries to get paperwork down in his office. Keyword being tries, seeing as his resolve is only so strong. He has a love-hate relationship with your hypersexuality, because while he loves how needy you are for him, his productivity lulls during particularly high spikes in your sex drive. One could say he’s suffering from success in this regard. Oh, noooo, his darling humping the pillows again. Whatever will he do? Guess he’ll have to call in sick again. Tsk. Tsk. What a drag, amiright?

Clark Kent: I think Clark has a difficult time separating sexual desire from romance and intimacy, so even if you view Clark as nothing more than your kidnapper, he’s definitely letting this feed further into his delusions. Surely, this means you love him, right? You arch into his touch and make all those sounds… that has to mean something! It’s because of this that he absolutely gives you what you need whenever you need it. As your (self-proclaimed) husband, it’s his duty to provide for you! And… okay, I’m not saying Kryptonian have some sort of built in horny-detector, but given his power set, he can probably tell when you need a little help. Is your heart beat slightly faster than usual? Don’t worry, honey, he’s on his way home!

Dick Grayson: Oh, he definitely doesn’t mind. The moment he realizes you’re hypersexual, not only does he have an excuse to touch you more, but now he has yet another variable he can manipulate about you. New favorite pass time unlocked: riling you up and teasing you whenever he feels like it. And you bet your ass he’s doing it in public, too. It’s just so cute to see you try to be normal when he knows you’re all flustered. He’s so fucking evil, getting you all sexually frustrated and practically making you beg for him to finally lend a helping hand. Of course, unless if you’ve been bad, he’ll never leave you pent up for too long; he’s got his own needs, too. Having so much control over your conditioning is just so hot for him, you know?

Hal Jordan: Sign him the fuck up. Hal’s probably no better than you, constantly having to keep up with his own sexual needs, so as soon as you finally accept your situation, this is a match made in heaven. Is he mean about it? Sure. But Hal would call you nasty names even if you weren’t so hypersexual, so don’t feel too bad about it. It ain’t sex with Hal Jordan if he didn’t act like a condescending jerk throughout it. Y’all definitely fucking every day (which means he’s 100% bringing you on Lantern missions; he’ll make it work somehow, just you wait), cuz a hypersexual darling coupled with Hal Jordan’s innate horniness is a dangerous thing to behold. This dynamic could not be more perfect for him.

Harvey Dent: So… Two Face lowkey kinda hates it. What do you mean you can’t keep your hormones in check? Come on. Get it together. He can’t always be there to deal with you. He’s got business to attend to, damnit. But Harvey, on the other hand, can almost empathize with you. He understands having impulses you can’t exactly control, and hey… he’s more than willing to help out. Get ready for Harvey’s sweet praises and Two Face’s degrading remarks, cuz of course they can’t agree on a tactic to go about your heightened sexuality. While Two Face wants to just outright bully this behavior out of you, Harvey actually wants to cultivate it as a way to make sure you’ll at least come to him for something. I think it’ll definitely feed into Harvey’s ego, and who knows… Two Face might actually come to like it.

Jaime Reyes: Poor guy would be at a moral crossroad. Khaji Da would be yapping about sudden spikes in your sexual arousal, but Jaime’s all like, “la la la, I can’t hear you,” because while he’s definitely aware of the fact that he’s crossed a few boundaries in the past, this just seems a little too far. He’s still trying to have some sort of respect for you, after all. It’ll definitely take you coming to him directly for him to actually do something about it. Please be patient with him. He’s got an evil fucked up bug in his brain trying to coach him through this, because it’s apparently not enough to just be nervous about anything sexual to begin with. You’re gonna have to call the shots until he gets the hang of things.

Tim Drake: Pot, meet kettle. Tim already has a shit ton of problems, so we might as well add hypersexuality to the list. Now, in my eyes, Tim is the biggest sub known to man, so if you’re the same way, this shit is gonna be messy. Like, absolutely no control happening. Y’all are just rubbing bodies against each other until something happens. But on the other hand, being more dominant means training him how to fucking behave. Bro is not above lunging at you and humping your thigh. Teach him how to properly touch you, and then you’ll maybe give him a reward. You might not be able to get rid of his fucked up tendencies, but you can at least use them to your advantage.

Wally West: He’d find it absolutely adorable. Much like Dick, this is a perfect way to manipulate you, but he’s at least much nicer about it. As long as you’ve been on your best behavior, his teasing isn’t anything malicious or cruel. Don’t take advantage of how nice he is, because he can quickly turn this into a learning experience for you. Make sure you stay on his soft and sweet side. I can totally see him reassuring you and talking you through it, his touches gentle and loving as to not turn you off. Upon discovering how hypersexual you are, he’d definitely coax you into letting him lend a hand like you were some sort of scared animal. “Hey, it’s okay… it’s not like you can help it, right? Here, wouldn’t it be much better if I helped? No, no, sweetheart, it’s no bother for me. In fact, I’d love to help. That’s it. Come on.”

[justcallmecj]

Seeing Your Dragon Form: Vice's+Ruggie and Floyd

Trey

Trey was a lot more chill about this than you were expecting him to be.

He agreed to come with you with no problem, and when you came out of the mist and he saw you, he looked like this was all normal.

He quickly approached you and stretched his arms towards you. You brought yourself closer to the ground to make it easier for him to reach your head.

Gently, Trey pet your head. Running his hands across you snout and up to your horns.

He always made sure to keep eye contact with you if you were looking at him. Your e/c eyes and his golden colored eyes locked together.

He constantly made small talk with you, asking simple yes or no questions or simply telling you about something random.

Unbeknownst to you, on the inside, Trey was freaking out!

You reminded him a puppy! (Quite a deal larger than an actual puppy, but his view is still valid.)

He's used to keeping some form of a rational, adult face all the time. You, Riddle and Chenya are really the only ones who have seen the childish side that he has.

Because of this, he didn't want to just full on fawn and freak out on you. He also didn't want to risk overwhelming you.

He opted to waiting for you to be human again, where you could speak, to ask any questions he had.

Later that day, when you had turned back into your fae form, he asked. Surprisingly, he had a lot of questions.

"I'm proud of you, Y/N. I'll let you do what you want for right now, but when we get back to the dorm, prepare for questions, alright?"

Ruggie

He was very skeptical when you asked if he wanted to see your dragon form.

He immediately thought that you wanted something out of this (like to eat him).

With plenty of skepticism, he followed you out to your spot in the woods and waited patiently for you to come out of the mist.

Seeing you had him stunned for a solid 2 minutes.

Now, you and Ruggie have been friends for a long time now, and he knows that it's you, but he had a rough childhood.

You were about 4x his size, serrated claws, razor sharp teeth and covered in spikes. Everything about you screamed DANGEROUS.

It was like staring down everything that he taught himself to stay away from.

Then you did something he wasn't expecting.

You sat quietly and gently tilted your head to the side. Your e/c eyes gazed into his with a look he feels is familiar to him.

Then he remembered. Once, when one of his younger brothers had gotten into a fight, he came home looking roughed up and dangerous. But the moment Ruggie came to patch him up and they met eyes, his brother gave him a look that extremely contrasted that roughed up state he was in. His brother was soft and on the verge of crying.

Looking at you, it was the same thing. Ruggie got the same feeling he did back then. You looked scary and dangerous, but he knew that you were still the same softy that he sees everyday.

Finally, he got over his initial feelings and strutted towards you. He ended up right under your head, forcing you to look down at a weird angle to see him. You adjusted yourself and brought your head to his level.

Just as Ruggie had done with his brother, he patted you on the head. It instilled a feeling of contentment in you and your eyes slowly fluttered shut. Soon, a gently hum ran through your throat and hit Ruggie with the vibrations since he was still patting you.

"Wow, that worked a lot better than I thought it would. Y'know, all this nice treatment from me will cost ya, Y/N~"

Jade

You had his curiosity extremely peaked.

He must admit, upon meeting you and learning you were a fae, he thought about what you may look like as a dragon whenever he was with you.

He never said anything, out of courtesy and politeness. But now that you were offering him the chance, he took it with no hesitation and never held his tongue about anything.

You had asked him during on of the very few times Floyd wasn't with him, meaning at was just you two. (You still can't tell if that made things better or worse)

Jade was unaffected by the mist, and the extra amount of cold you radiated.

The first thing he did? Go to your tail. Him being an eel, he has one himself. For some reason, he wanted to find out how different yours was from his. He's never been able to get good looks at the tails of the beastmen at school, so you were his best example.

He poked and prodded at the spike that ran down it. Not that you minded, there was no feeling there and if they were to break, they'd grow back quickly. There was only feeling in your spikes when in fae form.

Soon, he had gathered all the information he needed for the time being. He then sat by your snout, which had been on the ground as you had laid down.

He held a pleasant conversation with you. You couldn't respond, but he didn't care. He spoke of things that really didn't need you input but still kept you entertained, which was his goal.

At times, he unconsciously start petting and stroking you. Running a hand across your hand(?) and claw, soft head pats, gentle rubs behind your ears, things like that. You decided to take a nap due the peaceful sounds of the woods and Jade's calming voice.

"You never cease to stretch my thoughts of you. When I think I have you figured out, you surprise me." He can only hope you can't hear him right now.

Floyd

Unlike with the others, it wasn't you who suggested him seeing your dragon form, it was Floyd.

He had been insistently pestering you about it for weeks now. Both Azul and Jade have tried to get him off your back but he just pops back up and asks again.

Eventually, you gave in.

Upon the disappearance of the mist, he was already on top of you.

Without notice, he poked at your sides, claws and wings. You barely even had enough time to figure out what he was doing before he moved on to investigate somewhere else. He stayed away from your tail though.

You even allowed him to climb onto your back for a while. He didn't stay long though, he found the scales to be too uncomfortable to stay there much longer.

Eventually, he opted to spend some time near your head, so he could spend the rest of the time with you.

For a while, he was surprisingly chill with you, but then mood swings decided to pay a visit.

He got frustrated that you couldn't talk back, or more so at the fact he couldn't understand you. He just really wanted to know what you were saying to him.

You thought of just not saying anything to not further escalate things, but then realized he be even more upset if he felt you were ignoring him.

You've been friends with Floyd for a long time now, and you've gotten pretty good at handling his mood swings. The moment you felt he was getting too frustrated, you took action.

You brought your tail towards him and pushed him over. He fixed himself and caught sight of your face. You may be a dragon right now, but he could tell that you were smiling at him and laughing in your head. He saw what game you were trying to play easily.

You two playfully wrestled with each other for a long time. He would climb around and you'd gently knock him over. Things like that.

"Umitsubame-kun! I knew it be a good idea to do this. We could've been having this much fun sooner if you had just listened to me when I first asked~"

Jamil

Jamil was a lot calmer than his Scarabian counterpart.

He will admit though, he's been curious about what you may look like. Just like Kalim, he doesn't have much experience with dragons, real or fake.

The mist was freezing to him, though, considering where he grew up, that's no surprise.

He didn't quite know how to respond.

You looked awesome! But he didn't know what to do from there. You two just kinda stared at each other for a while, neither moving.

Then you took the lead.

You walked up to him (it only took you like three steps) and raised your hand(?) into the air.

He flinched, thinking you were gonna crush him, but then froze when he felt himself rise into the air.

When he opened his eyes he saw that you had picked him up and held him in your palm.

Luckily he's spent enough time on the flying carpet to not be afraid of heights.

You brought him close to your snout and in a moment of no better ideas, he gently placed a hand on the tip of your nose.

Your scales were freezing cold, and while he expected the air you exhaled to be warm, it was just as cold as your scales, if not colder.

Now he was a lot more comfortable with the situation, meaning he started doing more.

He asked questions, then realized that you couldn't speak. He then decided to change his method and asked yes or no questions. They started as one about your dragon form, then the conversation drifted off into other subjects. School. Food. Dorm life. Other students at school.

He asked if changing forms was tiring to you, in which you gave him a side ways nod. 'Sorta' is what you were telling him.

"How about when we're done here, we go back to Scarabia and I'll make you something to eat and get your energy back up? Take is as a 'thank you' for this experience."

Rook

Actually, this isn't his first time seeing your dragon form.

Since the first day he saw you, you've captured his attention, and triggered his hunting habits.

One day when you were taking a break from NRC life, you snuck away and spent some time as a dragon. Unbeknownst to you, he had been watching you the whole time.

But then you actually asked him if he wanted to see. He told you 'yes' with a strange and knowing excitement.

He was on top of you even before the mist cleared since his sight was enough for him.

This is the first time he's been this close to a creature so much bigger than him.

Throughout the entire experience he was showering you in compliment after compliment. Words of encouragement filled with passion, charisma and said quite fervently.

You wholeheartedly believed that even if he wanted to, Rook would not have been able to take his hands off you. His hands touched where ever they could, your spikes, wings, horns, snout, claws, tail, you name it.

You understood though. You've always known how curious Rook is. How, while it seemed strange and creepy to others, his habits and mannerisms never really bothered you.

Out of no where, he confessed to following you all that time ago.

He could see as emotions flicked across your draconic face for a few seconds. Confusion. Realization. Upset. Thoughtfulness. Then it stilled into one. Amusement.

Your chest rose and fell fast. You were laughing. Rook couldn't help but laugh himself, lowkey glad you weren't upset with him.

"Oh dear Dragon de Glace, your beauty is truly magnifique! I hope you and I will continue to have many moments like these in the future!"

Lilia

He happily took you on you offer.

He's known the Draconia family for years, so you having a dragon form is nothing new to him. Heck, he was there the first time Malleus used his.

Out of everyone, who saw you as intimidating or astounding, he saw you as cute.

Lilia will admit with no remorse, he has a soft spot for dragons. With his experience in helping to raise Malleus, he can't help it.

When you opened your eyes after transforming, you were met with Lilia's large, red, slit-pupil eyes in you face, upside down.

He flipped out and rested his arms in your snout, using them to support his chin.

He then struck up a conversation. He could understand every word you said to him. (Learned with Malleus.)

It was an extremely lovely conversation. But, you did get embarrassed when he would speak to you as if you were a child.

You'll have to excuse him. It's an old and sometimes an unconscious habit he picked up due to Malleus and mostly Silver.

For some reason, he really likes booping your nose. Mid conversation he'll just boop you for no apparent reason. He then proceeds to giggle to himself at your reactions.

Eventually, you got a bit tired. Your body relaxed while listening to Lilia and your eyes fluttered close.

Seeing that you had drifted off to sleep, Lilia got closer and gently moved your head into his lap. It was ridiculous with how much bigger your head was compared to him, but cute non the less.

He gently stoked your snout, making sure you stayed asleep. As you snored away, he remembered when he would do this with Malleus and even Silver when they were babies. It made him smile, a smile you unfortunately couldn't see.

"Just stay asleep Little One. I'll be here when you wake up, and we can continue to have some fun."

[darlingdreadwrites]

Everyday Is Like Halloween

THIS IS A SECOND PART OF AN AU. IF THIS IS THE FIRST POST YOU SEE, I SUGGEST YOU CLICK ON THIS (“MAIN STORY”) TO READ THE FIRST PART OF THIS AU!!

pairing: Eyeless Jack x GN!Reader

summary: After arriving at Mr. Mann’s Manor of Frights, you decide to go to the food booths first.

contains: EJ being kind, EJ cooking, free food!!

warnings: reader freaking out a little bit, reader eating barbecue (kept it ambiguous because there are veggie options)

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

“I want to find something to eat,” you tell your friends. They nod and tell you they will be heading to the haunted experiences.

After splitting up, you follow the mouthwatering scent of food through the crowds of people. You didn’t want to spoil their fun by admitting that you were too scared to go through any scares. And yet the knot in your chest tightened as the distance between you and them grew. The sounds of laughter and screams come from all directions of the manor grounds. The festival is packed, but you were focused on the scent of roasting meat, sizzling vegetables, and sugary treats. Your stomach rumbles as you near the booths.

You weave between people in crazy costumes and groups of friends taking pictures. It’s almost too much to take in all at once. The energy is chaotic, and everywhere you look, something begs for your attention. You’re almost too focused on just getting away that you don’t register that a man dressed as a deranged clown was trying to scare you. You couldn’t think past your groaning stomach and the heavy air pressing down on you. You have to remind yourself to breathe when the faces of the people around you become a blur.

You finally spot the cluster of food booths near the edge of the festival grounds, but it’s getting harder and harder to shake off the unease. Your panic spikes as you’re practically pushed forward by a loud group of people. You slip in between two booths, pressing your back against one of them and taking a deep breath. It’s pretty secluded here, perfect to steady yourself.

It’s then that you notice the smoky scent of barbecue coming from your left. Your stomach grumbles again. The sign reads “Meat Shack,” and the deliberately grungy look intrigues you – especially the humorous signs that make cheeky references to cannibalism. A small window on the side of the booth opens, and you jump a little when a voice calls out.

“Hey, are you ok?” He asks in a gentle tone.

You look up to see a partially masked face peeking out at you. The man wears a dark apron over a black hoodie and a midnight blue mask, a spatula in one of his hands. There’s something oddly comforting about the way he’s looking at you.

“Um, yeah… just–just needed a break,” you respond, your voice wavering.

He’s quiet for a moment, then nods in understanding. He can see the way your shoulders are tense, the way that you hug yourself. What concerns him most is how you seem to be breathing like a frightened rabbit.

“It gets pretty hectic here, yeah,” he says, placing a hand on the window’s edge above his head to get a better look at you. “You hungry?”

“I’ll fix up a plate for you,” he says after you nod. “For free.”

“No, no. I don’t–I don’t want to take advantage…”

But he had already started turning away to show you some of the options. He waves you over and, with tentative steps, you step closer to the window.

“Here, I’ve got some vegetarian options too.” He chuckles before delivering his next line. “I know it’s the 'Meat Shack', but…”

You manage to let out a laugh that sounds a little more nervous than you meant it to be. “I can pay, really. I don’t want to, like…”

“I’m sure you can,” he turns partially toward you to give you a small, reassuring smile. “That’s not what I offered, though. So, do you want meat or the veggie option? We also got a special sauce. You like spicy stuff?

You tell him your choice and thank him as he prepares your plate. You stiffed further as another shrill scream comes from somewhere nearby. You realize that the scare-actors aren’t just sticking to the main area, and the thought of getting spooked while eating makes you even more anxious. EJ, as he had introduced himself, seems to notice. He frowns.

“Tell you what,” he leans on the window after handing you your food. “There’s a garden out back that’s… a little more peaceful. Want me to take you?”

You’re surprised by the offer, but it was a welcome relief that you were grateful for. You nod and watch as he undoes the knot in his apron, slipping it over his head. You see that he has to squint a little to find a hook that you can see clearly. You think he might have some type of sight issues after watching him closely.

“Be right back,” he says under his breath, picking up a plate and walking to the back of the booth.

You’re not alone for long, because he rounds the corner toward you. He smiles down at you, and you take in just how tall he is. Not in an intimidating way either – he’s more like a gentle giant. The sound of aluminum crunching meets your ears, and you notice that you were unknowingly squeezing your plate. He tilts his head to the side, motioning you to follow him.

As you walk, the noises coming from the festival start to fade and are replaced by the chirps of nearby crickets. You go deeper into the grounds of the estate while the path twists and turns. You walk through a wrought-iron gate into a beautiful, secluded garden. It’s as lush and tranquil as you’d expect a rich family’s garden to be – filled with blooming flowers and twinkling fairy lights. It was the most beautiful garden you have ever seen, including a perfect bench to sit at. A stony path leads up to it, and it is placed in the middle of a half-circle of flower bushes.

You both sit down, placing your plates in your laps. You can feel his warmth as he settles next to you, but you can tell he’s far enough to not make you uncomfortable. He was thoughtful like that – a true gentleman.

“Is this okay?” he asks you earnestly. “I can sit on the floor, if you want.”

That made you want him to sit closer. You shake your head, turning your attention to uncover your food. “You’re good, don’t worry.”

The food is perfect – savory and smoky with just the right amount of spice. As you eat, both of you share stories. He tells you about his favorite moments at the festival over the years. Each story makes you laugh, and the anxiety you felt earlier is becoming a distant memory. He talks about his family, too, and how grateful he is to be a part of it. You can’t help but be drawn in by the way he speaks – a softness in his eyes.

After a few minutes, a question that has been lingering in your mind spills out. “If your name is Jack, why are you called EJ?”

“Well,” he pauses mid-bite and chuckles. “I’m not my dad’s first Jack. And, uh… my brother – Jeff – thought it’d be funny to nickname me Eyeless because of some sight problems I had. And EJ just kind of… stuck.”

You make a noise of acknowledgement and the two of you go back to eating silently. It was a serene silence, and not awkward in the slightest. He flips his mask to rest over his dark hair, letting you see more of his sun kissed skin. He looks back at you, having caught that your attention was on him. But you couldn’t look away, even if you were embarrassed. You could tell he was hot just by the way he acted and treated you, but him being physically attractive as well made your little crush on him even worse.

He smiles, tilting his head to silently ask if there was something wrong – if there was a reason you were staring at him. He was so kind to you, and you had never been looked at so softly before. You enjoy his presence, and it seems like he enjoys yours. You smile back, whispering a thank you.

“Anytime,” he murmurs, sounding also shy. He chuckles and looks back up at the midnight blue sky as he feels his face warm up.

[fcthots]

hear me out.. tattoo artist! jason

Ok think Jason w tattoos is UDHFH STEP ON ME. AND TATTOO ARTIST JASON? EVERYTHING. but I have such a fear of needles that this is the only way I could do this one. I will return to it later if I become any less of a a coward.

Also this somehow turned into a full fic, don’t ask me how. I just looked down and there were words typed in the post. I don’t know what possessed me. And before I forget: it’s not really relevant so far if the bats are still bats in this AU, but the batfamily is still at the very least, a family.

Jason works at a tattoo parlor and that’s where you two meet. It’s love at first, well, first day? Anyway, you come in wanting to get your ears pierced. You know you’re scared going into it so you call ahead and ask for the nicest, most gentle, and most patient person there and you book a stupidly long appointment with him so you have time to have a panic attack and freak tf out.

You were not expecting Jason to be over 6 feet tall and be the most menacing person you’ve ever seen (and you saw batman one time!!). You also weren’t expecting him to be so stupidly fucking attractive. You sit down where he gestures for you to, and hug your arms close to yourself. He gets everything ready while you start trying to control your breathing. You can see Jason continuously turning to look at you out of the corner of your eye as you fidget with your ears wondering how bad this is gonna hurt.

“You okay?” You look up at him. He’s staring at you with concern in his eyes. Ok, so maybe you weren’t as good at controlling your breathing as you thought, but you still needed to respond.

“Mhm.” Your words were sort of failing you right now so that would have to do. You attempt to keep your tears in.

“You ready?” You look down and see the needle in his hands. Absolutely the fuck not. Your breathing gets worse, your tears are starting to make it out of their prison, and you are about to have a panic attack.

“No.” It comes out too fast. You shake your head wildly to make sure you get the message across.

He immediately puts down the needle and shows you his open hands. “Can I sit?” You bring your knees to your chest and nod before you hide your face. “You’re scared of needles?” He sits next to you, keeping a respectful distance.

“Phobia,” you mumble as you slightly lift up your head. You see the equipment on the table and you attempt to cover up the way your heart spikes. Jason follows your gaze. He gets up and puts a clean towel over the needles before he sits back down.

You were very clearly crying now despite trying not to. Your adrenaline was kicking in.

He held out his hand. “Do you wanna hold my hand?”

You jerked. “Do you mean like while you stick me with the needle? Because I’m not ready. I’ll be ready soon. I swear I’ll try and get myself together, I just need a minute-”

“We’re not piercing your ears right now. You can hold it then too if you would like, but I was asking if holding my hand would help you right now. We have all the time in the world for the needles later. I just wanna help you through this for now.”

You grab his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry for all this. I don’t mean to make your job harder. Also I might be here for a long time. I’ll try not to, but I’m scared.”

“Don’t be sorry and don’t worry about me. Let’s help you right now. I can be content here all day. You’re just helping me slack off.”

You smile and wipe your tears with your free hand.

You sit in silence for about 5 or so minutes before Jason pipes up. “So why are you getting your ears pierced if you’re scared of needles?”

“People keep telling me I need to. Also I have a friend’s wedding coming up and I was told my dress needed to have earrings.” His hand is warm and huge. You really don’t want to let go.

“But if it’s causing you this much stress, who cares about earrings?”

“Most other people apparently.”

“That’s fuckin stupid.”

You laugh and finally meet his eyes.

He starts talking again. “Well what about clip-on earrings?”

“They don’t really make those much anymore. Super hard to find.” Jason looks thoughtful at that.

“Didn’t you book out the rest of my day?”

“…yeah sor-”

“Respectfully, don’t finish that sentence. My brothers ex-girlfriend makes jewelry, and I know for a fact that she makes clip-ons and fake piercings. Steph, her name is Steph by the way, used to make them for my brother before he moved in with us and was able to get them pierced. I’m 99% sure she’s home right now.”

You feel a huge weight lifted off your chest. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. How did you get here?”

“I walked from my apartment. It’s not all that far.”

“Alright well, if you’re comfortable with it, we can take my bike to go see if she can make you some if you want to go now. It’s not a walkable distance really. And don’t feel pressured to-”

“Let’s go.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. Anything to not jam a needle into my ears.”

Jason leads you by the hand to his bike and takes you back to Wayne manor. There are so many people there that barely question why you’re there. Jason walks off to go find Steph and you get nervous until a dog approaches you. A child follows shortly after.

“Titus can tell that you are upset. He is trained to help with such things.”

Jason comes back to find you with Steph in tow only to see the dog literally laying on top of you while you discuss animals with Damian.

What a weird ass fucking day, but a good one.

Part two

[strniohoeee]

Could you write a Matt x fem y/n where she gets overwhelmed with life (or something like that) and she tries to hide it from Matt. She fails miserably and in telling him what’s wrong she has a panic attack, so he has to guide her through it. Like kind of angsty in the beginning but very fluffy in the end? If that’s okay with you?

Trapped

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is struggling to balance her stressful life without realizing it. Unable to figure out what’s wrong some questions from Matt make her spiral and panic takes place🗣️

Warnings⚠️: None it’s just short 😭

Song for the imagine: Silver Soul- Beach House

Trap

(Past tense) Trapped

Verb

Prevent (someone) from escaping from a place

Lately my mind has been clouded by this overwhelming feeling of stress. I’m not usually a stressed person, but when I do find myself getting overwhelmed I handle it well.

But right now in this moment I wasn’t sure what was wrong and why I couldn’t control these feelings. I suppose it’s true that stress is a silent killer.

I couldn’t really pinpoint why my mind was racing and I felt this impending doom waiting for me. Like I was on the brink of snapping?

To make matters worse I’ve been distancing myself from Matt and his brothers because I didn’t want to seem like a buzz kill. Constantly plagued by the “what’s wrong” was making me annoyed. Because I simply couldn’t say what was wrong because I didn’t even know.

Matt had come over to my apartment to spend the night with me. I felt horrible because he was so excited and I just wanted peace and quiet, and to go to sleep.

I was being such a bitch, and I tried not to be but it was becoming very hard. My mind was constantly racing and for what? I had no idea….

“Baby are you okay?” Matt asked me, snapping me out of my trance

“Huh what?” I said looking at him

“Well I’ve been talking to you and you haven’t said a thing” he said furrowing his brows at me

“I’m- I’m sorry” I said shaking my head

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem off” he replied rubbing my arm

“Yes Matt I’m fine” I said sternly kind of brushing his arm off of me

“Oh uhh I’m sorry” he said snatching his hand back

“Listen I’m sorry I’m just not feeling the best today” I said rubbing my forehead

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asked repositioning himself on the couch

“What is there to talk about when I don’t even know what’s going on in my brain” I said frustrated

“I’m not trying to make you upset so we don’t have to talk about” he said looking at me

“I’m sorry, okay, it’s not you I promise. I’m just stressed” I said back to him

“Well baby what are you stressed about?” He asked reading my face for an answer

“Matt I don’t know okay” I said feeling my heart beat quicken

“It’s okay” he said rubbing my knee which caused my anxiety to spike even more

His over analyzing of the situation made my brain go haywire. Anxious thoughts infiltrating my mind.

“I’m just stressed about a lot…..my content, and then my part time job and then also juggling school, and then my mom called me the other day to say that my dog is probably dying, and I have tons of bills and so much stuff to do and such little time” I said my chest rising and falling

“It’s okay to feel that way. You’re young and you’re doing a lot and living on your own isn’t easy” he said tucking my hair behind my ear

“And the warranty is up for my car so I have to call and purchase it again, and my manager has been trying to get a meeting in with me, and I have to fly back home in two weeks”

“and….and…..why does my chest feel like it’s tightening?” I suddenly blurted out the last part

“Y/N, you have to calm down okay. You’re freaking yourself out just breathe” Matt said sitting up

“I can’t breathe and my hearing is going out, my vision seems blurry? Am I going to pass out?? Why can’t I breathe Matt?” I said breathing quickly and erratically

“Listen to me, okay listen to my voice. You’re having a panic attack. You need to focus on your breathing and calm down” he said grabbing my hands and sitting in front of me

“I can’t” I said staring blankly as tears ran down my face

“Yes you can baby” he said

“Why am I crying?” I asked trying to breathe

“You’re having a breakdown, you’re going to be okay just do as I say” he replied back

“Remember when I took you to the cape and we went to that river?” He asked me

“Yes” I said shakily

“Okay now breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth” he said wiping my tears

“Well remember how beautiful it looked, and how vibrant the tree were….we sat down on a rock and you put your feet in the water” he said to me

“Yes I remember” I replied blinking my tears away

“And you tried to count the rocks in the water but you couldn’t” he said

“Yeah there were too many I kept messing up” I said laughing a bit

“And then you just focused on the water running through your feet, and you said that-“ I cut him off

“I said that it felt like silk running along my skin” I replied smiling at him

“Exactly, and you said the wind blowing through your hair made you feel like a main character in a movie” he replied laughing

“Yes I remember” I said laughing

“And do you remember who was there with you?” He asked and to this I furrowed my eyebrows

“Of course Matt, it was you” I said looking at him

“Exactly, I will be with you no matter what. I will always be by your side” he said kissing my knuckles

I had calmed down and my mind had cleared. Finally coming to my senses at what just happened. My body and mind feeling exhausted

“Thank you Matt” I said smiling at him

“Always my love. I’ll always be here for you. You should never let yourself get this way. If you ever feel any amount of stress just tell me I can help you” he said rubbing my cheek with his thumb

“I’m sorry I just don’t want to seem like a burden” I replied looking down

“You’re never a burden. Because when I’m stressed you’re always there to help me and I want you to do the same” he told me

“Okay Matt I will. I promise” I said leaning into his chest after he sat back on the couch

“Listen, you're doing well enough to quit your part time job, and if you ever need any money for anything just let me know okay. I want to help you! I’ll fly with you back home, and I'll go to the dealership to get the warranty package for your car again. Let’s look at your calendar together and schedule the meeting with your manager. And I can help be your study buddy for your courses” he replied rubbing my shoulders

“Thank you Matt I really appreciate it” I said melting into his touch

“This is what I’m here for! To be there for you always” he replied kissing my shoulder

“I love you” I said

“I love you too” he replied back

I looked over my shoulder and he placed a kiss on my lips. A kiss that let me know how loved I was….

The End

Hiiiii I hope you enjoyed this one! I have two stories similar to this on my page, so I tried my best to make it different😭😭 I love yall and I hope you enjoyed this one🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[taurusmoonchild]

if the next gen kids (well think they'e teens) and they decide to do a holiday dinner, take the load off their parents hands.

Do you think there will be chaos? Who do you think would freak out the most? Do you think Hugo would drink 'spiked' eggnog and ends up freaking out because he thinks he's drunk but in reality it's just a sugar rush.

I've been tinkering with an idea for them, and I'd like to know what you think, since you write them a lot. And I like the way you write each of the next gen kids

This is literally a bunny of mine so I am prepared!!

First of all I 100% think there would be chaos and Molly II is the head of the operation, ordering everyone around to do different tasks.

Rose, Roxy, Teddy and Louis are on cooking duty:

- Rose always loved helping her dad and grandma while cooking and is convinced that just going with what feels right while cooking is the best option

- Roxy takes after her mother and is just there to make sure at least some food is properly seasoned

- Teddy is only here because Molly refused to let him be on the same duty as Victoire so he picked this one over literally anything else

- Louis volunteered first to be in this group because he wants to make sure he actually ends up getting food he likes. He firmly believes in following a recipe.

Victoire, Lily, Albus and Lucy are on decorating duty:

- Victoire, as the first grandchild on both sides of the family, is here because no one wants her to throw passive aggressive comments when the table cloth is askew or the plates are not properly placed

- Lily has a gift for seeing what colours go together and what colours don't so she makes sure everything looks acceptable

- Albus picked this task because he thought it would be the chillest. He, however, didn't consider the fact that he was gonna be bossed around by his sister and two cousins who seem to find anything he does SLIGHTLY off.

- Lucy is the most aesthetic out of everyone so she simply had to be here. She also drew little table cards for everyone

James, Fred, Hugo and Dominique are on supermarket duties

- this is actually insane and only happened because Molly made the mistake of forming this group last

- it's absolute chaos because James and Fred are off planning to buy too much alcohol and not enough food

- Hugo is literally just there for the vibes and was beyond thrilled that he didn't have to be on the same team as his sister

- Dominique is here to be "the voice of reason" as Molly put it, but she's actually the one paying for the alcohol

Meanwhile Molly is running around the house with a clipboard trying to keep everyone in check and failing miserably.

- Rose and Louis are arguing over literally anything which ends in the mashed potatoes NOT getting mashed enough

- Lily keeps placing the plates how she wants to, which is (according to Victoire) just simply wrong. Meanwhile Lucy is sitting on the floor drawing her little table cards while everyone is nearly tripping over her.

- Albus managed to sneak away from them but only ends up coming right back to them when he overhears Rose and Louis yelling at each other

- Teddy and Roxy are actually cooking, trying to fix whatever doesn't get done by Rose and Louis

- supermarket crew somehow managed to buy all they need and plays video games for the rest of the night refusing to help because they have already done their duty

- Molly has about five mental breakdowns because people can't seem to get along

[fang3d4]

Anya’s *actual* worst fear

So throughout the series, Anya consistently references a fear of hers, other than bunnies. Gerascophobia. Which is a very long, fancy word, for the phobia of getting old. She sings about it in omwf (twice,) and she has a whole monologue to Xander about it in season 5.

It makes sense that Anya is freaked out by this. She lived for thousands of years being practically indestructible, her physical body not aging a single second. And all of a sudden she’s thrust head first back into humanity. Sure, she’s young, but while seventy years might sound like forever to us, to her it’s a blip.

Not to mention, she’s in a relationship, with a man. Now, before you come at me, Anya spent a millennium reining vengeance on men who had wronged women. The idea she has of the male sex in her mind, is almost definitely skewed to the negative. And we live in a society that is obsessed with aging. Women are expected to stay looking as young and as youthful as possible, and we are told that that is what men are attracted to and desire. Anya isn’t just scared of aging because she won’t be as mobile, or recognize herself, but because she’s scared Xander won’t want her anymore.

And unfortunately, this fear is something Xander reinforces. I’m not a Xander fan, but I understand why he left her at the altar. I don’t necessarily think that it was a mistake. But looking at it from Anyas perspective- ouch. Ever had your friends tell you a partner is wrong for you and defended them with your life, only to be publicly proven wrong? That, times a thousand. But also, Anya knows that Xander was shown a version of their future. She knows Xander saw a version of her, years from now, aged. And now he’s leaving her. I’m not saying that that’s *why,* (it wasn’t) but if I was in her position, that question would definitely be in my mind. 

I also find it interesting that Anyas vengeance demon face, almost resembles a very dramatic version of being aged/wrinkles. Anya has to have this face to have her power, but Xander finds it ugly, scary.

Through her relationship with Xander, Anya never feels adequate for another reason. We see her often trying to live up to the crush Xander never got completely over- buffy. Anya wants Buffy’s clothes, her hair. And then, who does Xander end up with? dawn summers. I know, I’m sorry, but I have to talk about it. I, like most people, ignore the comics as much as I can. But specifically the first series of comics, was originally supposed to be season eight of buffy- on the screen. And he who shall not be named, definitely knew aspects of said season before hand.

Anyas ex fiancé, who didn’t feel able to marry her, was able to take that leap with dawn. Who is, not only the younger sister of the girl she could never lived up to- and, as buffy said herself, *her* in a way- but also the youngest person he could legally be with. She was only 18 to his twenty-three when they started dating. Which, while doesn’t sound like the MOST insane age gap at first glimpse, becomes a lot more concerning when you think about the fact that Xander used to babysit her.

Joss is known for foreshadowing- he does it all the time in buffy. And knowing that dawn and Xander end up getting married in the comics, all of the “I’m gonna marry that girl- what that’s my sister she’s 15-“ “wdym dawn has a crush on spike, she’s supposed to have a crush on ME” ‘jokes’ feel like some kind of sick joke. Which, knowing wheadon, they probably were. But in season seven, that foreshadowing takes on a less ‘jokey’ tone. Obviously there’s the bronze scene in him, but I also noticed that in a handful of scenes in this season, the shot is set up to show dawn and Xander together, while Anya is being pushed to the sidelines. In one of these, Xander is hugging Dawn, while Anya stands alone at the side.

The most heartbreaking instance of this, is in the finale. Anya’s death is already so tragic- the fact that it was so fast, so close to the end, so unnoticed. But the last clip with Anya in it is set up like this: Anya is in the foreground- dead. Xander is looking for her, but dawn takes his hand and drags him away. This irks me so much, because I hate the narrative of the other, younger woman ‘stealing’ the guy away. It’s an idea that fuels society’s huge push for women to compete against eachother, to be the most attractive, or, more accurately, most desirable to men.

So, Anya is scared of Bunnies. A symbol of innocence and fertility. A symbol of her life with Olaf, a marriage she likely went into very young, and based on her attempts to postpone physical relations with him, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. She, more than most, should understand that the standards women are set to are harmful, that they were never attainable- even in the fantastical world of buffy, you can’t be human if you don’t age. But just like most of us in the real world, that didn’t stop her from desperately clinging to those standards, forever trying to meet them, eternally scared of the privilege of growing old. One, that in the end, she never got to have. 

[beeandthescreen]

In Unholy Matrimony

E | Vampyr!Ellen x Thomas | Canon Divergence | 4/?

Ao3 | An unconventional journey home requires equally unconventional methods.

All ch. | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Hello! I have not died. It's just that this chapter was an utter bitch to write for some reason. This one is over 5k, so don't say I don't feed you.

This monster was going to be wayyyyy longer, but I decided that splitting them up into two would be appropriate AND ensure that I don't leave you guys hanging!

Enjoy, my little freaks.

—————————————————————

They sit in growing darkness, matted with filth and anticipation, watching the light of day disappear through a hair-thin crack. 

Ellen is wrapped around his arm, fingers entangled with his own. They’ve come to the unspoken, unanimous decision to enjoy this short purgatory they’ve been offered. 

How often they have held each other the same— in pretty fields and beneath trees. In their marriage bed. Under country bridges. Against Gingerbug’s warmth.

Yes, they look horrendous. Yes, he is sure he cannot walk. Yes, they are so very very exhausted.

—But Ellen is massaging slow circles into the hollow between his thumb and forefinger. She asks if he has eaten. She picks away the most unsightly flakes of dried mud from his neck. She scolds him for the state of his knees, the pallor of his skin—demanding to know why he has not been tending to himself.

She knows why, but she does not like it. She coddles him with words of comfort and touches so soft he almost forgets his troubles entirely.

Almost. 

His eyes follow the last slivers of light down and down until— ah, they will be able to leave in only a few moments. A spike of pain jolts up his calf. Maybe a little longer than that, then.

It is when Thomas becomes effectively blind when Ellen makes a strained noise. She tucks her face further into his shoulder. Her nuzzling makes his lashes flutter to a close. He feels her breathe him in– her chest swelling against him. 

Ellen stills. 

Opening his eyes, he sees the faintest glow of two beady circles peering at his neck, unblinking.

Gooseflesh. There is a sudden, sharp, oppressing silence. Thomas’ throat constricts with a thick swallow—his scar aches.

“My love?” he whispers. He flattens a hand to the small of her back, pressing lightly.

They flicker shut. A beat passes, and the hair on the back of Thomas’ neck settles. 

Ellen shifts, resettling herself. She peels away, and Thomas resists the urge to lean in and follow. She places her hand on the stone between them, their fingertips brush– placating. 

“Forgive me, I—” 

“It is alright, dearest.” He assures, trying so very hard not to sound out of breath. He does not know what else to 

Thomas does not need to be told, for it is the distinct, familiar feeling of being prey that tells him enough.

The lapse is ignored. She entwines their pinkies “Only a minute more.” she whispers, and Thomas would be a terrible man to say no.

He is lucky that he hadn’t frozen to death in his sleep. The mausoleum walls were ancient and ugly, but thick. When there was still light, he had noted the lichen blanketing the stone, sopping up the chill of winter. Instead, hypothermia had been traded with cold sweats and soaked underthings. 

He feels horrid.

Think of food, water, a bed, a bath. 

He is placated enough to start ruminating on the many—stepped plan of returning home. 

The line of thought starts and fails to make purchase, many times. He decides that future, 5-minute later, Thomas can pick up where he left off.

Somehow, in his overwhelming grief, he’d spirited Ellen’s belongings into their shoebox of a guest room. It could have been his own, crude, brand of foresight– or maybe the lingering fire in his heart that told him to save whatever was left of his wife from the desecration of that vile creature. 

Tonight, he will lay out her favorite nightgown, ready her a bath, and clean out the wounds that have yet to be properly tended to. They will need wood to boil water. There is also the issue of their lack of a door, and Ellen’s sleeping adjustments. 

They need to procure the soil from this graveyard— a lot of it. They’ll need to come back with something that could hold enough to cover her.

He feels the stirrings of a headache.

Fingers tip his chin downward. “I can hear you think.” Ellen lets her hand fall to his chest. When it grazes his heart, she pulls it away, digits flexing. “Share with me your troubles.” 

Thomas allows himself a deep sigh. “There is much to do.” His head shakes. “If there was a list…” they could probably use it as kindle for the bath.

Ellen’s eyes crease at the edges, tight. “Then our minute is over.” 

She squeezes his arm. It hurts like the devil, but what doesn’t? Thomas is a bruise on two legs. She stands, and though he sees little, he feels its odd grace. It is a singular shift of damp fabric, lightly grazing his thigh. 

He loses the details of her in the dark, but he feels hands gathering him up, pulling gently. He is startled by the ease in which she takes him. He groans, his knees popping. 

They exit the tomb, and at their first steps, they are ankle—deep in a swirl of mud and snow. 

—————————————————————

Bodies no longer litter the streets, but there are faint remnants of the sickness. Bandages, tonic bottles, and broken cloth stretchers— all blanketed in a layer of white— as is the entirety of Wisborg.

They are nearing the end of December and it feels significantly colder than when he was a boy. 

Perhaps the holidays have lost their spark. Would it be silly to say he still wishes to celebrate?

Their first Christmas together.

He would scrounge up the funds to get her a new gown and a proper easel. God knows where he’d find one on such late notice. He is no seamster, but he can work wood. He’ll build the blasted thing if he has to. 

At this, a picture appears. Ellen, sat on an artist’s stool, bristle brush in hand, buffing out tufts of pinked clouds. It would be parallel to his desk, so he could humor her while she worked.

Thomas will count their savings when everything has settled. 

The trek is much slower than yesterday, significantly so, but Ellen has taken on his weight without complaint. He’d been reluctant at first, to burden her with it. In the end, she’d given him a hard look, wordlessly fixed his arms around her shoulders, and walked.

“It is not the time to be stubborn.” She’d chided, and Thomas could only give her a sullen nod.

Over time, his body had begun to sag. More than once had he found his face dipped into the crook of her neck. He’d pull himself up again, only to find himself in the same position only a moment later. He’d stopped trying to stand up straight only a half-hour in.

Ellen, however, takes it in stride. Her slow, purposeful steps are for his sake rather than her own. There is not even a pinch in her brow— only the occasional tilt of her head to meet his eyes, and to softly ask him if he needs to rest.

With how effortless she is in her guidance, one would think she’s carrying an empty sack.

They leave a snow—parted trail behind them. He hadn’t needed to tell her to take the side streets. If not for the absence of whispers—and of people in general—he might not have noticed at all.

Even in near darkness, Ellen tiptoes over every crack, bump, and stone. They only pass a lit streetlight on occasion, which is in their favor. With the plague, there are probably only a handful of lamplighters to spare. Thomas suspects that it will grow brighter as they move toward the inner, wealthier districts.

Thomas, for once, is grateful he lives on the more… dubious side of the city. Still, they need to cross over the middle of town, so they will not get out of this with their propriety completely intact.

When he starts to shiver, Ellen instructs him to stay put, and then disappears into a dark street. 

Not a moment later, she returns with a thick, ill-fitting coat. When handed it, he moves to drape it over her shoulders, but she stalls his wrists.

“I have no need for it.” she whispers, a meaningful look on her face. Thomas relents.

She maneuvers him into it with a practiced hand, buttoning every closure to keep the warmth in. She doesn’t need to make it look pretty, but she adjusts what needs adjusting, and then continues leading the trek.

A long while later, when he has warmed just enough, he has the mind to ask her where the hells she got it from.

“Do not worry yourself,” she says, patting his hand. “He was not going to use it.”

Thomas, trusting that it is less ominous than it sounds, can only kiss her cheek.

They eventually run out of alleys to hide in.

“Thomas.” A soft movement of the shoulder his forehead is currently resting on shakes him from his stupor. He glances up— bleary-eyed, and answers with a hoarse hum.

They’ve traveled further than he thought. Surely not? We are nearly halfway home. 

A busy plaza is just around the corner. The barrier between the dark, quiet outskirts and the bustle of city life is stark. A harsh line of yellowed lamplight cuts across the street, and a horde of shadows dance on the tall brick beside them.

"Of course. Reederplatz Plaza never sleeps; perhaps we might find a carriage here?" Ellen turns, shifting his weight so that they are facing each other in a less tender version of a hug. She looks up at him with concern, and a gentle nudging that suggests she wants his input.

As true as that may be, Thomas doubts that even the kindest of Samaritans would subject themselves to their presence. 

Ellen, to put it very politely, looks like she’s gone and rolled in shit.

She is beautiful, nonetheless. 

He cannot fathom what image he must paint to anyone of good sense. Their standing in society aside, there is no other option—lest they decide to waste the precious time they have dragging his failing body across the city.

“Let us try.” He says, because there has to be at least one person with a kind enough heart and a low sense of self-preservation to say yes.

Using the wall to guide him, he hobbles forward and peaks his head around the corner. 

It is moderately busy. It is the standard mix of people for wandering vagabonds and wealthy patrons returning from their parties and dinner reservations. Even in the wake of tragedy, there is little that can halt the cushion of life of those with large coffers and even larger hats. 

A swathe of carriages line the outskirts of a small park, most of them loud and gaudy. A wide, marbled statue of a ship serves as the plaza’s center point. Thomas was right in his assumption, for every single corner is lit up well enough that the idea of remaining subtle is almost laughable.

There is a pressure on his lower back. He looks over his shoulder and sees Ellen peering over his shoulder, coat bunched in her grip.

He turns to her, his hands finding their way to her arms. With their uncertain knowledge of Ellen’s condition, Thomas hesitates to bring her into the crowd. He knows her flesh is not rotting off the bone, nor is she frothing at the mouth and biting at people’s ankles– yet he cannot say how she would fare among so many. 

His thumbs press into her inner elbows, his lip caught between his teeth. It would be wise to procure a ride and take her from there rather than wade into the thick of it and hope for the best. 

As if she could hear him, she squints, jaw working. “You will return to me if you encounter any disagreeable sort.” her eyes dart behind him, surveying. 

Thomas huffs,  “My love, were that the case, I’d be gone a minute.”

Ellen clicks her tongue, unamused. “Thomas.”

“Yes, darling. If and when the genteel people of Reederplatz Plaza do me wrong, you will be the first to know.” 

Her eyes lighten.

“My good boy.” she whispers, the edges of her lips upturned.

Even in the freezing cold, his face grows warm.

He coughs, willing away the sudden stirrings in his chest. He dips his head to place a chaste kiss on her hairline and turns to limp his way into the street.

“Wait.” 

Ellen steps in front of him, eyes roaming in scrutiny. After a moment, she reaches upward, running her hands through his hair. He ducks on instinct, letting her fiddle. She smooths the sides and runs a nail across his scalp, straightening his part. His eyes flutter to a close, and he lets out a weak exhale.

Her fingers are replaced by a soft, gentle pressure on his forehead. 

When his eyes open, Ellen has pulled back– her mouth still in a fragile, sweet grin. She looks so pretty.

“There.” Her head tips in the slightest of nods, content. Their eyes lock, and they acknowledge each other— assessing. Saying much, but nothing. There are a million words to be whispered, and all it takes is a quiet, ardent moment of connection to know them.

Ellen blinks, and then, she’s ushering him forward, a mushy be careful on her lips.

—————————————————————

Thomas will not have the heart to tell her that smoothing down his flyaways does nothing to plead his case.

Nor does the stolen coat.

He stands in front of a recently slammed carriage door. He’s left having learned a good amount of—or at least, what he would think are—expletives. The sort that make you question your self-worth. 

It rides away. The elderly, thin, evil woman stares him down the barrel of her nose until she disappears behind a corner. 

He is…weary.

Well, wearier.

That was the fifth to shoo him away. His pride has been wrung out. It lays at his feet, shriveled.

He takes a deep, ragged breath, and turns to go for a sixth.

“Which ones have you not tried?”

“God— “ He starts, scuffling back on his heels, hand pressed against his chest. She catches his sleeves, righting his balance. 

Ellen is looking up at him, brows pinched, fine dots of snow in her hair. “You are shivering.” She eyes the coat with contempt— as if she could will it to be thicker.

“It is going fine.” he says, diverting. “The people here are most occupied, is all.” They are increasingly unpleasant.

“Thomas.”

“Yes, my sweet?”

“That woman called you a worm.” Her voice is hard. How long has she been standing there? 

“Ah, yes. The elderly do lose sense with age.” He chews the inside of his cheek, eyes darting to another line of coaches. “And now, onto the next–” he goes to move, but a light tug on his coat sleeve halts his retreat.

She does not release him, instead, she turns her head to eye the thinning crowd in silence. She takes a deep lungful of the cold, port-city air, and whatever she finds makes her start pulling him in the direction of the gaudy, boat sculpture.

“Ellen?”

“I trust it will be well enough." she mutters, letting go of him in order to form some modicum of class. She rights her posture, her stride is even. “My composure remains.” 

He stays at her heels, clamming up as they approach the foot traffic. His peripheral, as expected, consists of varying forms of disturbed, horrified faces. 

It seems silly, now. For Thomas has seen true wretchedness. Their facsimiles make him all too aware of the thin separation between this world and beyond.

Would a poor man scream louder than a lord, or a duke, when gutted? 

Ellen does not veer to the side and start gorging on the nearest passer-by, and Thomas’ blood pressure remains safe, for now. 

As they near the center of the plaza, he notes that the carriages are larger, more colorful, and have intricately carved sections that look like they cost a leg and some Schillings.

They pass one, and the man inside makes him look twice. A tall hat, a full beard, young, donning black—

The small, dark hole he’d unceremoniously shoved his grief into begins to spill over.

He wrenches his eyes away, culling the thoughts of whiskey and laughter.

Their destination is clear now. Ellen has chosen one at random— or one of the only ones with the curtains drawn— She parks him a foot away and taps delicately on the side. 

Her voice is light, sweet, and tells of her good breeding. “Good eve, Herr—“

Thomas does pray that this one has a soul.

The man startles, letting go of his reading monocle with an alarmed 'Oh!'—his ledger nearly slipping from his hands. 

“What the devil—!“ Thomas cringes. The man sounds as if they’ve reached into his window and snatched his coin purse.

“—Away with you woman! You– you’ve soiled the leather!” Never mind that Ellen has not done so. He’s loud. Loud enough that people begin to stare more. 

The man, with exaggerated haste, begins to tuck away all his belongings into the nearest compartment. Ellen withdraws her hands from his window sill. Even at the quality of his reception, she does not retreat.

He suppresses the urge to glower.

He does not enjoy Ellen being the object of ire. Much less from sour, insipid, untoward, miserable wretches—

“I’ve no taste for a bed-warmer this night. Take your business elsewhere.”

Thomas’ hackles raise. 

“You-“

The man’s eyes flicker sideways to take in the state of her, expression puckered in disgust. However, it is when he looks at her face, handkerchief now poised to wipe at the invisible stain, that something changes.

The horses stir. A biting waft of air tunnels through the street. 

The man softens, almost immediately. Lulled by her visage. Thomas’ words die on his tongue at the shift. He would push Ellen behind him, if their return home hadn’t been of utmost importance.

— and the fact that he has begun to realize that it does him well to trust her word. 

Thomas sucks in a slow, steady breath. 

He settles for making himself very visible behind her. 

He knows his Ellen is a remarkable beauty. He too, even after the years he has known her, swoons— but there is something so strange about it all. The man is smiling, giggling. His cheeks are ruddied and flushed. 

He leans forward, beckoning her to speak once more. He takes off his hat, pressing it to his chest. 

“My sincerest apologies, my lady. Herr Augustus von Reichenbach, at your service.” He says, saccharine, sickly. 

Sweat beads at his forehead. The edge of his lip is quivering. “Of Reichenbach’s Royal Tobacco Trade.” he continues, his stubby, ring-covered fingers reaching into his pocket to procure, of all things, a trade card. 

A beat.

There is a moment of hesitation, but Ellen eventually plucks it from his grasp. The man pulls back to cradle the hand to his chest, rubbing his wrist. 

She studies the card for an appropriate amount of time— enough to placate the ego of a man of good standing— and then begins to speak. 

The cadence of her voice makes the edges of Thomas’ vision blur. He feels its pull. It is hands roving over his skin, pressing the ache away. It is the absence of any troubles, any hardship. It is a warm, fresh glass of milk. 

He shakes it from himself. 

The words are nothing special— a mere request for aid, a white lie of their wagon being turned over. They were on holiday, you see, and the storm had startled the horses.

The man is nodding before she’s finished, scrambling out of the other side of the carriage in a flurry of nervous movement. Has he ever seen an ugly, old, bald man simper like an infant? 

Thomas decides that he does not like this very much. 

He now sees that the coach’s driver has peeked his head around to stare at her with parted lips. Thomas steps closer, his chest ghosting her back. He has half a mind to take her hand and slip away, but a hand discreetly pats his thigh, and Ellen is turning to meet the man, sounding all too pleased to make his acquaintance. 

Hm.

Somehow, after a few exchanged pleasantries with Augustus, as he so insisted Ellen call him, they are being ushered into the cabin. 

Thomas doesn’t need to think to slide in before her. The sudden warmth is incredible. He scoots in with as much grace as he can conjure and offers his hand to his wife. She takes it and settles in beside him. Thigh to thigh.

Now that Thomas has become a physical barrier between Agustus and Ellen, he is forced to pause in his blubbering to acknowledge his presence. 

“This man…is with you?” he eyes him with thinly veiled contempt, looking eager to be rid of him. 

He can try.

Thomas squints— but because he is a good, patient man, who listens well to his woman’s word. Thomas’ eyes dart to Ellen, letting her bargain for his fate. He is afraid that if he’d been keen to answer they will not be in here much longer.

Ellen gives a sharp nod. “My husband.” She introduces, “He is weary. His health is of the utmost importance.” He notices that she has not let go of his hand. He squeezes it and runs his thumb over her knuckles.

At the tail end of her words, there is another shift. Augustus’ face slackens, ire gone. Then, his head bobs in a series of jerky nods.

“Of course, of course. The utmost importance. Coachman! Make haste!” Ellen must have told him of their residence because he sticks his head through the partition to bark orders at the still fish-mouthed driver. 

Thomas turns to Ellen, a silent question of ‘are you okay with this?’ on his lips. When their gazes meet, despite the composure she holds, there are many things he can decipher. 

It is an Incredulous, curious, but ultimately, conflicted sheen. A moment yields the tiniest hint of satisfaction. She squeezes his hand in return, and then with her other, offers the tradecard between two fingers.

He takes it from her, flipping the lithographed image of a cigar to reveal two lines of serifed, embossed text.

Reichenbach & Compagnie

Finest Tobacco from the Colonies & Beyond

His mind flits to Greta, lazing on their windowsill, a rat between her maw. As per usual, she’d drop them at the foot of their bed, purring the annoyance from Thomas’ brow. 

Thomas tucks it gently into his stolen coat’s pocket.

Then, they are moving. Just like that.

“—The crates, of course, must be sealed tightly—no moisture, no air, nothing that could spoil the tobacco; we cannot afford to have a single leaf damaged on the journey, you understand?—” he’s regaling Ellen, and only her, of the very detailed process of his trade. 

He’d, unfortunately, decided to return from bickering with his driver.

He speaks of how laborious it is as if he carries the crates on his back himself.

Thomas ensures that he rubs his crusted boots against the carpet more than necessary.

His mother had not raised a rude boy, but it is almost impossible to even attempt to tolerate someone who had yelled at, and disrespected, Ellen. Much less so that he ogles her freely, now.

Has he no semblance of decency?

He thinks mother would forgive him for it, just this once.

Ellen gives the occasional, polite nod. She answers his questions with the most basic, boring responses, and even then the ugly man looks at her as if she’d hung the moon. 

Much of the ride carries on as such, and by the end of a half hour, Thomas’ eyes ache from how much he’s rolled them. He’s tuned most of it out— only keeping himself half aware, less he begin to cross even more boundaries.

They’re a corner turn away when Ellen says a soft “This will do.” and Agustus is hollering through the partition, again. 

The carriage jerks to a halt.

Sitting back, Agustus quickly turns to Ellen. There is a hopeful look on his face. He’s wringing his hands in his lap, fidgeting. He looks barely contained, as if he does not wish to upset her with too much of his forward affections. Ah, but looking at her was just fine. The nerve.

Thomas sucks in a breath, lips parting— but Ellen squeezes his hand. 

“Thank you, Herr Agustus.” Ellen starts. She tips her chin in delicate acknowledgment. There is nothing that suggests anything other than common decency, but the man’s eyes sparkle, and he just…sits there, smiling to himself, breathing heavily.

Thomas glares at the man until he manages to gain a lick of sense.

Do not ask him how long that takes. He pops out of his stupor in a flurry, muttering a range of apologies that will never be enough to make Thomas not want to hit him.

When he sees the man throw himself out the door and start to walk around to Ellen’s side, Thomas follows suit. The blast of icy cold does not stop his pursuit. He all but shoulder-checks the man—half-wit— out of the way, and gently guides his wife down to the cobbled street. 

He murmurs a small ‘careful’ when her heel sinks into a thicker patch of snow.

Her brow is raised, to which he answers with his own. He keeps close behind her when she moves to approach Agustus, again.

The man is fixing his hat. He does not even look upset. 

At the sight of her, he’s back to blubbering. He takes the hat he just adjusted and presses it flush against his chest. 

“My lady, it has been so very delightful to be of service. It will be most upsetting to part. Might there be anything else…” he trails off, eyes flickering upward to look up at her. There is an edge of desperation, and Thomas knows that desperate men are rarely brushed off with ease.

Thomas’ resolve frays and snaps.

“Actually, there is nothing else—“ He begins, all venom, but Ellen steps in front of him. In a smooth, almost imperceptible, movement, her hand guides his own to the back of her dress. Pressing his hand flat against the small of her back. 

Leaving it there, she moves hers to the front of her soiled skirts, clasping them together. 

She begins to speak, and it is a hair different than earlier. This time, It coaxes out the sweat from his palms, the stutter of his breath, the buzz in his ears. His anger is soothed down by the weight of apprehension.

In his peripheral vision, the neighboring lamplight flickers, plunging them into a moment of darkness.

Even in the oppressive atmosphere, Ellen’s voice is calm. There is no underlying malice, or threat. She is polite, undeservingly.

“You will go to the churchyard.” She begins. Ellen has seemed to drop any pretense of this being a request. She speaks her intentions clearly, without room for error. 

“You will take the broken coffin from the mausoleum with the angels carved into the door, and fill it with soil from the grounds.” as coaxing as she sounds, there is an edge of something so unyielding. Strict. An invisible chain wrapped around the man’s neck, pulled taut as Ellen continues to speak. “To the brim.”

She seems to hold it with a muted reluctance, unwilling to tug too far.

Herr Agustus has gone lax. The flush of admiration settles into the pallor of blank parchment. His hat has fallen into the snow, darkening with moisture.

“You will return to our home no later than an hour before sunrise.” Ellen punctuates the end with a step forward. The click of her heel brings a heavy silence. There is nothing to be heard. No wind, no midnight crows, no rolling carriage wheels. 

A moment passes.

The man is stirred into action. He is nodding, again— Thanking her for the pleasure of her acquaintance. The driver is still staring. 

He’s halfway into the carriage when Ellen stops him with a quiet ‘wait.’

He freezes, quite literally. It’s an instantaneous tensing of every muscle. His leg is still raised, and shaking at the strain.

Hesitation, and then— “Give me your billfold.” Ellen’s hand lifts and unfurls, expectant.

Thomas blinks.

What?

His eyes flicker to the man.

There is not even an ounce of reluctance. He slackens and reaches into his waistcoat, producing a small, folded, leather case. He gently deposits it into her hands, turns, and all but throws himself inside. 

He shuts the door behind him— not before snapping the driver out of his trance with another round of shouting.

“G’bye Milady.” The driver tips his cap, voice shaky. He snaps the reigns with a hyah! and they’re being propelled forward.

She is silent in watching them hurry in the direction from which they came.

As they disappear into the night, Thomas is left quite speechless. Ellen tucks the billfold somewhere because it is now gone. He cannot see her face, but wonders what he would find should he look.

There is a stirring in his chest, a desire to ask so many things—to question, to peel back the layers of whys and hows he seems to only ever skirt the edge of truly knowing. 

Instead, he settles for circling his fingers around her wrist. “Come, Ellen.” he whispers. There is a renewed, but ever-dwindling, fight left within him, and it tells him to use the last of it to bring them home.

She still does not face him, her wrist is limp in his grasp. His brow furrows.

Thomas’ arms encircle her from behind. He squeezes tight, placing a kiss atop her head. 

“Should I have done that?” she asks, a flat murmur that makes Thomas wonder if she is asking him, or herself. 

Thomas does not know. In general? He feels that everything that led them back here was worth it—a means to an end he chooses not to pick apart. Later, perhaps. When they have settled, they can sit down and decide what to feel guilty over. 

“You did well.” he whispers, tucking her under his chin. Ellen stays in his grasp, quiet. The cold grows sharper with each passing breath, but Thomas stays put.

Eventually, Ellen tugs him forward, looking over her shoulder to give him a grin that does not reach her eyes.

—————————————————————

I do so love transitionary chapters, but they're so hard to make interesting! I do hope you enjoy Thomas as a narrator because he is so fun to write. As sweet as he is, he doesn't play about his girl. He's extra pathetic here. I feel like I need to give him a small win.

I'm trying to introduce Ellen's newfound abilities in ways that'll ALSO serve as character building and plot devices. Yes, this isn't just Ellen and Thomas being adorable losers together (unfortunately) I have an idea of where this will end up, but getting there is going to be a ride.

ALSO! Notice that the chapter count has turned from 10 to ?. That's because I realized this is going to be larger than I thought. Yay? I hope I don't succumb to the Ao3 author's curse.

Let me know your thoughts! And *holds up gun* Follow me on Tiktok at @beeandthescreen because I posted TWO Nosferatu edits and one of them is inspired by the fic. That's for all my maladaptive daydreamers.

Note | Comment about the dynamic between these two because I FEEL like I have them down, but of course I want your guys' lovely opinions :>

SEE YOU SOON!! The next chapter should be here by next week! I have a lot written down already. Its gonna be juicy. Promise on my momma.

[gyuzoh]

“풀어 POUR UP” KIM MINGYU—°

summary: bartender kim mingyu, who you have the undeniable hots for— denies your advances due to your promiscuous reputation as seoul’s newest and upcoming hottest female dj.

therefore you make it a mission to prove your god-sculpted eye candy, wrong.

playlist: pour up (dean), you know (jay park, okasian), 2nd thots (jay park), freak like me (camo), btbt (b.i)

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, smoking/vaping, drugs and sex.

previous or next

chapter two.

warning! this chapter includes slight mentions of spiking, if this will make you uncomfortable i inform you not to read!

aka i didn’t realise how angsty i like to write my stories ;-; but our ship will finally make some progress.

last night was a fucking nightmare, you’re currently sat on the floor of your bathroom reconsidering the choices you made only less than twelve hours ago.

you had ended last night on the floor of the women’s restroom on your knees— unfortunately not in a stall occupied with mingyu, but rather puking up all the blue and gold liquor you had been handed by the other dj’s you acquainted who had also played that night.

“you gotta be shitting me,” you say as you held your own hair back, crouching over the toilet bowl. you’re not exactly one to get drunk, but you felt as though you needed some liquid courage to make some progress with mingyu.

that however, only lead to liquid terror. memories of last night continued to replay in your mind, the way you abruptly told mingyu to basically talk to your hand after your little argument as you ran with your hand on your mouth, gagging as you try to hold back the puke coming up. leaving mingyu, completely dumbfounded. “i’m never drinking ever again.”

it seems you would never be able to prove those rumours of yours false.

the door to your bathroom opens and heeseung emerges with a plastic bag in his hands. leaning down beside you, he places the bag on the ground and gently pulls your hair aside for you, replacing your hands with his so you could focus on throwing up with full force.

“nuna, you know you can’t handle your liquor,” he whispers, remembering how grumpy you got at him a long while back for speaking too loud whilst you were suffering from a hangover.

you groan in knowing frustration, sitting back up. heeseung lets your hair fall down on your back as he stands up-right, walking toward the sink and wetting a hand towel with warm water to wipe your face.

you stay slumped with your back toward the bathroom wall and wait for your younger brother to wipe your face for you.

“i bought you hangover soup and some supplements,” he tells you as he finishes up with wiping your lips, “i’m going out with beomgyu soon, so make sure to shower and eat.”

if it weren’t for the fact that heeseung was two years younger than you, you’re sure people would assume he was the older sibling with the way he was babying you.

you roll your eyes with a small smile, “i got it, just go.”

heeseung does a little grimace, moving back a couple of inches and covering his nose with his free hand.

“your breath stinks.”

it had been a couple of hours since heeseung had left home to go out with his friend. beomgyu was a year younger than you, and had made it increasingly obvious about the little crush he had on you.

you were flattered ofcourse, but being your little brothers friend, he was an immediate no. you did find him quite adorable, but in your eyes he just seemed like another younger brother to you— albeit less annoying.

you had just finished eating and was about to wash up when a ding and the vibration of your phone went off. you pick up your phone from the bench and turn it on, looking at the notification that lit up your screen.

an instagram message from wonwoo. you unlock your phone and open up the message to be greeted with a long paragraph of more information about the party for his friend that you were now going to be dj’ing at.

kwon soonyoung, you knew of him. soonyoung; or otherwise known as hoshi was a popular instagram influencer, and a well known underground ‘krnb’ artist. he gave you dean vibes if anyone were to ask you how you’d describe his music.

you were looking forward to this gig, being a small fan of his work and all. the party was planned to take place a week from today which meant you had work to do if you wanted to leave an impression on the partygoers. so you got to work.

“dude, i think i know my sister-“ heeseung says as he unlocks the door to your shared apartment, “she is so not interested in you.”

beomgyu sighs, knowing the inevitable. “like not even a slither of a chance?”

“no way.” the two boys enter the home and take off their shoes, making their way through the hallway and into the living room, where you sat on the ground infront of the couch.

your headset was plugged into your laptop and your eyes glued to the screen. beomgyu strides to the couch and takes a seat quite close to you, heeseung follows suit, throwing his feet on your shoulders as he sits down right behind you.

“hee, your socks reek.” heeseung rolls his eyes and gently kicks your shoulder as an act of pettiness. the two boys peer over your shoulders and watch you as you produce some new remixes for the upcoming party, incredibly stressed out.

beomgyu leans forward in curiousity, “where are you playing next?” he asks.

you remove your headset that was blasting music, turning toward the long haired male who was now inches away from your face. you cock an eyebrow asking him to repeat himself as the melodies were too loud in your eardrums to hear him the first time.

“oh, i was invited to play at a friend of a friend’s party.” calling wonwoo a friend felt awkward as it left your chapped lips, but it was the only thing you could describe the spectacled man as.

“you know hoshi?”

beomgyu and heeseung both perk up at the mention of the rhythm and blues singer, “you mean the one that works with producer woozi?” your brother asks, suddenly interested in your work for the first time.

you nod your head, placing your headset back on ready to continue your work as you only had less than a week to prepare. heeseung and beomgyu glance at each other in hopes you would be able to invite them with you, though you had no intention of doing so.

it’s the night of the party, and you’re clad in another skintight backless dress currently having a back and forth with your younger brother. “no hee, i’m not bringing you with me, you barely know anyone and neither do i.”

“that’s exactly why you should bring me, i’m company and in any case something goes wrong i’m right there with you!”

you roll your eyes at your brothers lame excuses and shake your head in disagreement, slipping on your black heels, you open the front door and walk outside to catch your uber, yelling out a quick and firm “no means no, nothing bad is going to happen and i’ll be home by 3am latest”.

the ride to the party was quiet, saying you were nervous would be an understatement. you’d never done a private gig before and especially not for someone with this much influence, though you couldn’t deny the offer— this would help your upcoming as seoul’s newest hottest dj.

the uber comes to a slow halt, you hop out of the black vehicle with a small thanks and strut to the front door of the two story house, the nerves kicking in.

upon opening the door, the loud music booms in your ears and you push through the intoxicated crowd, getting caught in between grinding couples once every five steps.

finally reaching the dj deck that was set up in the abnormally large lounging area, you scan the room for a familiar face, catching a glimpse of wonwoo speaking to the host of the party, hoshi.

you take a few more strides past dancing individuals and stand behind the taller men, tapping wonwoo on the shoulder.

wonwoo turns back to face you, throwing you a small smile. “hey, you made it,” he says.

you return his smile with your own and greet him with a small side hug, flashing a grin at the blonde haired male opposite you.

“hello, i’m soonyoung,” the blonde male extends his palm for a handshake which you return gratefully, responding with your own introduction.

“thanks for letting me play tonight, i really appreciate it,” soonyoung shakes his head and smiles at you widely.

“nah, thank you for accepting the offer, i’ve seen you around and you’re pretty good for a newcomer.”

you thank him and the three of you exchange small talk for the next couple of minutes before you feel a familiar sensation of needing to go to the toilet.

“where abouts is your bathroom?” soonyoung wraps his arm around your shoulder and guides you towards the restroom located at the other end of the house.

you thank the blonde male, and he offers to wait for you but you shoo him away, telling him not to worry and to go back to wonwoo.

as you twist the doorknob, the door opens from the opposite side and to your dismay, emerges an all too familiar face. your smile fades as you take in the appearance of your incredibly sexy, cheating ex-boyfriend. kim taehyung.

you must have a thing for the kim’s.

the two of you make eye contact, leaving you speechless. it had been a year since the two of you had even set foot in the same proximity, and your happiness is immediately overshadowed by the immense feeling of dejection.

you try to ignore the male, forcing your way past him and nudging his shoulder but he grabs your wrist as you pass him, spinning you to face him again.

“i miss you,” he whispers, but it was loud enough for you to clearly hear his deep voice. liar, all he does is lie.

you snatch your hand back, throwing him an intense glare and you shut the door in his gorgeous face. you were over him, so incredibly over him— but the sadness was still evident.

that man was your first love. in fact, he was the one who had introduced you to the life of dj’ing, as he was a well known dj himself.

mingyu walks into the party, accompanied by somi who was wrapped around his biceps. the couple push through the crowd and make their own way to the lounging area, greeting friends they knew.

“you’re here!” soonyoung says, pulling mingyu into a bear hug. the taller male grins at the main character of tonight’s event and ruffles his friends hair, the flowery shampoo filling mingyu’s nose.

“i wouldn’t miss your parties even if i was on the brink of death.”

soonyoung hands mingyu a cup of liquor, which he gladly accepts and takes a sip before handing the drink to somi.

the music that was blasting comes to a halt with the sound of the dj disc scratch, “are you ready to have some fucking fun?”

your voice booms through the microphone as you twist the discs of the dj deck, pressing a few buttons and playing your first track of the night.

mingyu looks up toward the lifted stage get-up as he hears your voice booming through the speakers. soonyoung throws his hands up in the air and yells a ‘fuck yeah’, following the crowd who was doing the same.

you stood there clad in a headset once again, spinning the disks as you mix tracks for the crowd to get hyped to, dancing drunk on liquor, the bass vibrating the walls, which you hoped were soundproof for the sake of the neighbours.

taehyung was at the back of your mind as you played, distracting you, and it didn’t help that he was staring holes into your forehead as he sat on the leather couch, only a few ten metres away from you.

remember when you said you were never drinking again? that was a lie, you needed some strong liquor right now to distract you from the distraction of him.

for the first time, you gladly accept drinks from the intoxicated men who had hoped to get under your dress, downing them one by one in hopes you’d be able to forget you had seen your ex-boyfriend for the first time since the breakup.

your set time was over, and your mind was all fuzzy, though not just from the liquor you had accepted. you didn’t know what it was but it wasn’t just intoxication from alcohol.

the music blasting was becoming muffled, and your vision was going blank as you felt hands on your body, guiding you to a secluded bedroom. you try to resist and push the male away you don’t recognise but your body felt weak, way weaker than it usually did.

you were scared, having some sense left in you.

“what the fuck are you doing?” you hear, and then the heavy weight of the unfamiliar male was lifted off you.

you open your eyes and see taehyung holding onto you, glaring at the man who had tried to take advantage of you only moments before. the male cowardly runs off leaving you with taehyung, who you wished to avoid the rest of tonight.

“are you a fucking idiot?” he exclaims, holding you up, “why do you just accept drinks left and right, you were almost fucking taken advantage of just now.”

you hated his voice, the concern in it especially. he wasn’t so worried about how you’d feel the night you walked in on him with another female in his bed.

“who are you to worry about me?” you slur, pushing him back away from you. the strength you had left over in your legs gave out, and taehyung leans forward to catch you.

your ex-boyfriend sighs in frustration, “come on, i’ll take you home.”

you shake your head no and with the last of your strength you push him away again, and you try to run away from him, but he grabs your wrist again in which you yell in pain. “get the fuck away from me!”

mingyu and somi were on their way to the bathroom, their hands all over eachother and ignoring those they bumped into on the way, but mingyu pulls away from her body when he hears your loud voice only a few steps away.

he looks towards your direction, where you’re actively pushing away taehyung and to him, he sees a helpless female and an aggressive male.

mingyu quickly rushes over to the two of you, ignoring somi who actively tries to stop him, and pulls you into his broad chest. he throws daggers toward taehyung, who glares back at him. “who are you?”

taehyung rolls his eyes, “who am i? i’m her ex, who the fuck are you?”

before mingyu could open his thin pink lips to respond, you lift up your hand to clench the sleeve of his tee that wrapped his biceps, making him look down at you.

he takes notice of your fast breathing and disheveled state, his blood boils as he realises what’s happened to you.

“did you spike her?” mingyu was angry, and this man barely ever felt that emotion. taehyung’s eyes widen at the accusation, vigorously shaking his head no, but mingyu didn’t care.

the man holding you was about to get violent, and with the little sobriety you had left in you, you grip his shirt tighter, now shaking your own head no.

“i just want to go home,” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

mingyu nods and gently holds you, asking you where your bag and phone was, which you inform him was with wonwoo at the deck.

somi was fuming, the sight of mingyu holding you with so much care in the world made her want to puke. “gyu, can’t you just leave her?”

mingyu looked back at somi with a shocked expression, “how can you just say that when someone you know can barely mutter a sentence under the influence of drugs she wasn’t aware she was given?” he continues to hold you as he guides you back toward his friends, slowly.

“how do you know she’s not just faking it?” somi exclaims, sure of the fact you were just seeking for attention from her man. at this point, mingyu was flabbergasted and had enough.

“find your own way home,” he spat.

“whoa, what happened?” wonwoo questions his roommate, who was grabbing your things in one hand while his other arm was occupated with holding onto you.

“i’m going to take her home.” wonwoo nods in understanding once seeing your state. soonyoung gasps once he realises what’s happened at his party, feeling guilty. mingyu assures his friend it’s not his fault, and not to worry about it.

the two of you make your way outside, the fresh breeze allowing you to breathe freely, and mingyu hands you a water bottle he claimed from the fridge in the kitchen on the way to the front door.

you sip the water slowly, eyes still drooping as mingyu asks you where you live, to which you don’t respond. you didn’t want to go home and allow heeseung to see you in such a state, knowing he’ll tell you he was right to come with you.

mingyu asks again, being patient with you. “i don’t want to go home.”

he shakes his head and tells you he has to get you home, and reaches for your phone in your bag that he held, which was once again flat.

the screen was unresponsive and the power button was pressed multiple times in attempts to turn it on, which it obviously does not.

mingyu had no choice but to order an uber to his own place.

the driver arrives in a silver car, and mingyu gently lifts you and walks you to the vehicle, careful to not shake you.

the ride is quiet, mainly because you were snoring softly with your head on his shoulders, your arms wrapped around his bicep in comfort and hair sticking to the sides of your face because of the sweat.

mingyu pushes your hair behind your ear with his free hand, gently as to not wake you until the drive was complete.

taglist: @mochami-mochi @gyuwoosbabie @minmangyu

[themoonandtheprincess]

More Chase/Kaz headcanons

•Kaz is very much into alternative music, albeit more popular bands like Fall Out Boy and Rise Against. Spike is into it too but leaning more metalcore and screamo.

°It freaks Adam the fuck out when he goes down to the lab and finds Spike jamming out to some Ice Nine Kills while training.

°Although Adam and Kaz do find it funny because in "Communion of the Cursed" one of their lyrics is literally "Get on your knees and prove your worth."

°Speaking of Spike, Chase learns to control him a lot better when they're older so he doesn't come out as much anymore, but that leaves the times Spike does come out into full blown tantrums.

°Chase would never admit it out loud but that part of him does need attention too and really only comes out when Spike doesn't feel like he's getting enough.

°Kaz has learned that the only way to get through to Spike is to talk calmly to him and as he would to Chase. Which he just sees Spike as a part of his boyfriend, no different.

•Adam is big into country music but he's not elitist about it. In fact, he would love the "This ain't Texas" Beyoncé song.

•There isn't an Elite Force for long. Mighty Med eventually gets rebuilt and Kaz realizes he can't save the heroes if he's being one.

°It might stem from insecurity about not being sure he can 100 percent control his powers or that he's just more comfortable doing the background work.

°Either way, it's all a group decision to split the Elite Force, although Skylar with join Bree on missions sometimes.

°Kaz would be lying if he didn't admit he missed being a part of a team, but being part of Mighty Med soon became a team to him and even a family.

•Somehow, I'm not sure how, they are connected to the Henry Danger universe.

•Kaz "proposed" to Chase with a RingPop like all cringe babygays.

•Their actual wedding had A-list superheroes and company owners, much to Chase chagrin who wanted a small wedding.

•But Kaz made it up to him by flying him across the city and to the Bionic Island.

°Which, it was the thought that counts because Chase is terrified of heights.

•So I don't know if this is obvious, buy the Davenport kids aren't robots. They're humans just with bionic abilities. So I'm guessing in the way I'm seeing things their chips are sorta like a prosthetic if that make sense. I don't know. Feel free to correct me.

°If we're going by that sense of logic, then having bionic chips for super speed or what have you would become more common in the future, albeit for rich people.

°It definitely would make Chase insecure that there are more bionic people but also feel more welcomed into the world then standing on the outside. As for Adam and Bree too.

°But these newer bionics have upgraded systems and overall better functioning for them. They don't glitch as often, rarely with this new tech rolling out, and it embrasses all three of them when they glitch in public because of how old their chips are getting.

°Speaking of glitching, although Kaz isn't an engineer, anytime any one of the glitches he will take them back to the mansion to help Davenport and combine engineering with his medical knowledge. And as they get older it only gets worse.

°Once on a mission, all three of them simultaneously glitched and Kaz could hear it on his radio to them. He immediately called an ambulance to Mighty Med. Although Skylar yelled at him for not just flying over there.

•Kaz is CONVINCED Tony Stark once came in for his reactor messing up.

•When they're in their early 20's, Kaz shoots up taller than Chase to around Adam's height but he likes to joke he's secretly Elastic-Man and be any height he wants.

•Kaz refuses to take a side on the DC/Marvel debate although he will talk for HOURS about how the MCU is deteriorating.

•Skylar and Bree have some pretty sick cosplays of Vision and Wanda though while Kaz goes as Captain America and Chase goes as Bucky Barnes.

°Leo goes as Loki and tries to convince Adam to go as Thor but he goes as Groot instead. And of course, Donald goes a millionaire Playboy Tony Stark.

•Kaz is, of course, everyone's personal heater but he can not stand any of the eighty blankets Chase keeps around him to sleep.

°So they made a deal, only, like, two blankets but to keep them on Chase's side, that way Kaz can still be his personal heater.

•Kaz hates summer but he loves the pool... just not what it does to his powers. (Not to mention it takes an hour or two to come back.)

•Once, to piss Kaz off on his birthday, Chase individually wrapped each page of a comic book.

°But it was better than the time he used actual comic book pages as wrapping paper.

•Chase and Adam have autism while Kaz has ADHD.

•All three of the Davenkids can NOT sleep in darkness. Probably because they grew up sleeping in capsule, but neither can Kaz or Skylar. Kaz because obviously his powers are fire ability and it would scare him shitless if he woke up randomly in the middle of the night and couldn't summon a flame. And Skylar because it's just how she grew up on her planet.

°Chase figured out a way he wouldn't need to sleep in his capsule anymore but still sometimes does one for familiarity, two for when he's mad at Kaz.

•Also, all Davenkids have done animal therapy at least once (including Leo) and actually got it integrated into Mighty Med. That's how most of the superheroes ended up with their animal sidekicks.

•As he gets older Kaz accepts he's not going to be on the frontlines as a superhero but begins to get comfortable with that as he becomes more concerned with being a doctor.

•Kaz sometimes gets full on Will Solace from Percy Jackson mode. "Doctor's orders" and literally having to drag Chase away from his projects to go to sleep.

Let me know if you guys want more of these!

[soullistrations]

9 episodes into a haikyuu rewatch with the dubs (yes i know. i know okay). more thoughts!

kageyama asking if first years are /allowed/ in the club room says volumes about 7th grade tobio

so many things that i enjoyed on the first watch but completely forgot about! for INSTANCE! at the practice game with aoba johsai, when oikawa singles out and then targets tsukkishima, and hinata responds by making eye contact--opening his eyes for the first time during a freak quick and MAKING EYE CONTACT WITH OIKAWA--JUST to spike a ball straight past oikawa's face. i CAN'T get over it. holy shit.

ukai calls takeda specs in the dub. it's adorable.

speaking of, kageyama's dub va is growing on me. his three little 'fine's in response to kindaichi laying it all out in the bathroom--first, unsure, then getting it--it was a really good bit of voice acting.

i am stuck on the idea of asahi and kageyama coming from equal and opposite places as people who have felt overly relied on/responsible for victory--you can't win alone, but you can't lose alone either, and trying to take all that responsibility all on yourself in either direction hurts you and the people around you. like. their completely opposite reactions, coming from the same root feelings and stresses and mindsets--it's making me want more interaction between them!

and also! speaking of things i forgot about! i remember being all 'holy shit. holy SHIT' about the asahi and nishinoya of it all, but i forGOT how tied suga was to the whole situation?! i forgot how he's so kind and understanding and smiling and calm and willing to step aside for kageyama, and ALL of that is like. it's a part of who he is, for sure, but he's also kind of putting up a really determined front. he's missing so much life and mischief and self-confidence and you don't even REALIZE that he's missing something until asahi and nishinoya come BACK and he finally gets to PLAY ON THE COURT and allllll the second and third years are SO happy to see him happy and playing like they LOVE suga and they've seen how affected he is by asahi and noya, even if the first years and the audience had no idea.

but at the same time, him being the only one of the three to be there--stepping in with tanaka, giving up his lunch breaks, stumbling through a self-conscious explanation of setter priorities, trying so hard to help kageyama and hinata because, as he says, they need to make sure they're training their underclassmen because that wasn't done for them, the team failed to train their successors to take over their roles--like, we don't see who they were last year! we don't see it! but it's so clear that he's grown a lot as a leader (even despite his inner turmoil over feeling like he failed asahi and nishinoya, and feeling like he's being replaced and maybe he deserves to be replaced)--in fact nishinoya comments on it, says he didn't realize last year, but suga's actually pretty cool like this episode had SO MUCH juicy character development stuff about our second and third years and how they've changed since last year. god. i love the upperclassmen so much.