#and I don't think I will here now seeing as the tag limit shouldn't be very far away lol

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this

[blueshykitsune-blog]

Oh right! I forgot to say I've made that fanblog!

(Read all of this before visiting or at least the rules of this new blog!)

However I will have to add a lot of additional details before I officially put it on the roster for blogs.

However I'm not gonna wait this time so I'm gonna just say what I wanna instead of stopping myself like normal.

This fanblog is to a dear person who well I'm a fan of. I made sure to get permission for may of things, however I never had an official like name per say for me when I was on anon. I will have one more thing to ask the person but I will say they feel very dear to me and I'll feel extremely bad if I end yp being a cause for bad people going to them or people who shouldn't be at their blog there so please understand there will be more strict rules over there. Even if it's mostly only a couple, I am gonna be strict on them and well I know that if you try blocking that blog you will have a likely chance of blocking this one too so please be wary and you can just block tags too and even make them filtered so you see less of that stuff, kind of like how I run my writing blog.

So this fan blog is called @heartfullofleeches-fanblogperson it may take a bit before it fully registers because Tumblr is having issues so I may have to redo the @ tomorrow and see if I messed it up or something... might've accidentally pressed a button that I didn't mean to so yeah.

Anyway the rules, hard rules is: Don't visit it if you're under 18, it will showcase stuff not suitable for those people and I may not add tags as the original blog (the one not belonging to me) is more of an 18+ blog so please understand that and respect it, I will say that this may allow people under 18 see it but I'm hoping people will be wary and cautious...

This leads me to the next rule, do not at all send any negativity to heartfullofleeches as I promise you it'll hurt me deeply and I may get worse (I have some mental problems going on and it will definitely get activated worse if I find out someone did hurt them because I accidentally lead them there, even if it's not true.). So if you must use anger against someone do I have the blog for you to visit! (Please go to @goldshykitsune as that blog is literally where I will fight people on things even random stuff and I allow anyone to send asks there and yeah I mean just read the ask button and you can tell I made it for stuff like that and personal matters too.)

Okay the next rule I got is do not at all misgender anyone over on that blog. You do not understand how angry that would make me and I might just rant about you on my blog previously mentioned in the last rule. Do not misgender heartfullofleeches, their OCs, my OCs, or me (Can you really even misgender me exactly??? I dunno.) Just don't. Not cool and literally makes you seem like your at the bottom of a pyramid of actual people who are fulfilling what they need to for being happy in life and yeah. You wanna be happy I promise.

I will add more rules. I will add rules there too on the pinned post over there and maybe few over here on the lists of blogs.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Put it in your mouth

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 1

Prompts: Make-Up Sex & Pillow Princess

Words: 1,191

Tags: Friends to lovers; Idiots to lovers; Anal Fingering; Oral Sex; Anal Sex; Power Bottom Steve; Service Top Eddie

Notes: Eddie "Foot in Mouth" Munson strikes again. He's putting so many things in his mouth in this one. Get it? (God, I'm hilarious.) 🤭

The sky is turning bright when Eddie crunches to a brake in Steve's driveway. He swings open his door and is halfway up the front porch when he stops.

He shouldn't be here, the nagging voice at the back of his mind says. Between the jitters before the tv gig and interview and everything that happened after, he hasn't slept in close to forty-eight hours. He can't exactly be trusted to make rational decisions, and even if he could, who's saying Steve wants to see him?

Eddie curses, replaying the memory that has been plaguing him the entire way here. He called Steve the second he returned to the hotel, grinning from ear to ear like the idiot that he is.

“Did you watch it?” he blurted the moment the call connected. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. The curt answer could've clued Eddie in, but he was still high on adrenaline and applause, so it didn't. 

“I dunno about you,” he sing-songed, flopping down on the bed and twirling the phone cord. “But I'd say that went pretty fucking fantastic.” 

“Fantastic?” Steve repeated dryly. “Yeah, right. Glad you think so, you fucking asshole.” 

Eddie stopped playing with the cord. 

“Stevie?” he croaked. “What's wrong?” 

Steve laughed. “If you don't know that, you're dumber than I thought.” 

Then he hung up. Eddie was left in his hotel room, staring dumbly at the receiver. When he tried to call back, Steve didn't pick up. 

Eddie wasted the better part of an hour lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Why was Steve mad at him? Ever since the beginnings of their unlikely, Upside Down forged friendship, he'd been fervently supportive of Eddie’s music. Showing up to his gigs, listening until late into the night while Eddie worked on new songs. Hell, he'd probably been more nervous about this whole thing than Eddie, seeing him off with a lingering hug and a promise to talk to him later. 

It must’ve been something he said at the interview, but what? Eddie scowled as he rehashed every single question and answer.

Where did he get the inspiration for his songs? He’d spouted some bullshit about ostracization and alienation and smalltown conventions, because the truth would’ve meant breaking about a million NDAs. 

Was he excited about the upcoming tour and album? Yes, obviously, he couldn’t wait to see all those different places, play in front of all sorts of people. 

Was there somebody at home rooting for him? A special girl maybe? Nope, nobody, he was happily single and planning on staying that- … wait. 

Eddie shot up from the bed so suddenly he gave himself vertigo, letting out a very loud and very colorful string of swear words. In the room next to his, someone banged on the wall, asking if he had any clue what time it was. Eddie didn't. He also didn't pause to find out. 

Now, a hasty check-out and one speed-limit-defying drive later, he’s staring at Steve’s front door, all previous courage slowly seeping out of him. 

Maybe he got this all wrong. Maybe he's imagining this. He has experience with imagining things - has spent countless nights fantasizing about what it would feel like, touching Steve as more than a friend. The feel of Steve’s lips, the taste of Steve’s skin. Maybe he should leave, come back with a clear head tomorrow, so that they can talk this over like the sensible adults they-

“Shit, Eddie?” 

The door is open, spilling light onto the porch. At the center of it, nail bat in one hand, disheveled hair back-lit in caramel and gold, is Steve. He's in his sleep clothes - checkered boxers and one of Eddie’s old band shirts that he stole months ago. Those pretty eyes are large with surprise, but when Eddie takes a hesitant step towards him, Steve’s expression closes off. 

“I don't believe you,” he mutters, and makes to close the door. Eddie acts on impulse alone, bridging the distance and wedging his foot into the crack. Steve glowers at him. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“You,” Eddie breathes , and closes the gap. 

From one second to the next, all of his doubts evaporate, because this right here? This is all he's ever wanted. They crash into the wall of the foyer, nail bat clattering to the floor, and Eddie spends a glorious few minutes reveling in the heady rush of Steve’s lips on his, Steve's mouth opening for his tongue, Steve’s nails clawing into his back. 

When they part, Steve is deliciously flushed, lips shiny and slightly parted, ragged puffs of breath tickling Eddie’s skin. 

“Want you,” Eddie repeats. “Fuck, Stevie, I've wanted you for so long. I'm such an idiot, I never-” 

“Prove it then,” Steve says. His arms loop around Eddie’s neck, slotting them further together, and Eddie gasps as his cock presses against his thigh - a long, hard weight through the thin fabric of his shorts. “If you want me so much, show me just how desperate you are.” 

*

“More. Deeper. C'mon, or are you tired already?” 

Eddie moans around an aching jaw. He isn't tired, he's in heaven. There's drool running down his chin, his tongue and neck and shoulders are on fire, but Steve is here with him, sprawled against the headboard like a king, spread out for him like a feast. 

Steve fists one hand into the curls at the back of his head, shoving him back down on his cock, and Eddie swallows him down in one greedy gulp, eager to show his devotion. Looking up at Steve through tear-clouded eyes, he pushes his fingers deeper inside, curling them to hit that sweet spot. Steve gasps and clenches around him, eyes fluttering shut, head tipping back to reveal that long neck. The taste of precum floods Eddie’s tongue, salty and delicious, and he moans around the cock lodged in his throat. Lust coils painfully in his stomach, shooting up his spine like red-hot sparks, and his naked cock throbs with it. 

“Please,” he says, pulling off with an obscene, wet sound. Steve looks down at him, brows raised, eyes bright and glassy with arousal. “Please, Stevie, I need-” 

“Huh,” Steve says, and Eddie can tell he's trying to sound unimpressed, even with the way it comes out around a shaky moan. “You think you've earned it?” 

Eddie smiles. 

“Me?” he says. He swirls his tongue around Steve’s leaking tip, reveling in the whine he gets when he pulls his fingers out. “Oh, honey, this isn't about me. This is all about you.” 

He licks and bites his way up Steve's hip bones, his stomach, that glorious chest and neck, drinking in every little gasp, every shuddering breath. 

“All that time you spent waiting for me to finally get it? I think you've earned it. You deserve to be spoiled rotten. You deserve to feel so good. Please, baby, let me make you feel good.”

“Asshole,” Steve says, but this time, it's full of fondness. “You always know what to say, huh?” 

“Not always,” Eddie murmurs against his mouth, greedily swallowing Steve’s moan as he pushes in. “Only when it matters most.” 

More smutty September

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // twenty-one

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: oh- you guys wanted them to be happy and in love in peace?? my bad. anyway, good a time as any to wish you guys a happy valentines day! lol

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Where are ya takin' those?" Lennox asks you as you're quickly scanning through your piles of books, pulling out one or two at a time and holding onto them.

"I will bring them to Coryo and Sejanus." You smile to yourself, standing up straight as you finish picking out most of your favourites.

"Coryo." Lennox scrunches his nose up. "Why bother? They can't read that many books in a week. Especially when he'll hardly get his hands off you long enough to do literally anything else."

"Oh, Lennox hush. That is not true." You shake your head pointedly, cheeks burning red.

"It is true."

You had kind of explained to Lennox what happened, that Coryo explained, apologized, and that you were wrong about him. Your mother was right, of course, but Lennox still wasn't buying any of it. Although, he wouldn't deny that you seemed happier.

"Ma!" You call out, coming out of your bedroom with the stack of books in your arms. Trying to talk to Lennox about this would never end in him actually listening to you.

"Just out back, honey!"

You follow her voice out onto the back porch. "Ma, do you know if there's a limit of things you can take on the train?"

She looks up at the question, laughing at the stack of books you have steadied under your chin.

"It's not a passenger train, honey. I don't know." She chuckles. "You want to give him all of those? Won't you miss them?"

"Well..." You think about it, placing them down on the ground to rest your arms for a moment. "I don't know when I'll see him again, and books are expensive to post. Besides, I know they'll be in safe hands, and if I want to read them again I can take them from the library."

Your mom smiles sadly at you. "I suppose that's true."

"Yes." You grin, crouching down to pick the books up again carefully. "I shall go drop these off."

"When will you be back?" She asks, just as you're about to walk back inside.

"Uh, I'm uncertain, but I shouldn't be long! We don't have any plans."

"Maybe you should take your brother with you, he can carry those." She suggests and you sigh.

"No, Ma. He's mean." You pout.

"He only wants to keep you safe. Take him with you, please. He'll be driven mad here waiting for you to get back." She insists and you groan, dropping your head back. "I won't ask again, I promise."

"Okay, Ma." You relent, stepping back into the house and letting the door swing shut behind you. "Len! Ma says you're coming with me!"

"So... how do you know where they are staying?" Lennox asks you, half the books in his arms as you practically skip ahead of him.

"Coryo showed me the other day."

"Oh, he did. Of course he did." You can practically see him rolling his eyes behind your back. "Have you ever considered that he could just be using you? I mean-"

"Lennox, that's not a rational thought process. I have nothing that he would want, he already won his prize." You interrupt. "He just came here to spend time with me, we talked about that when I was in the Capitol."

"I can think of something he wants..."

"Lennox!" You turn on your heel, pointing a finger in his face so fast he almost stumbles as he stops. "That is enough. You have so little trust in me!"

"It's not like we haven't been down this road before!" He argues, and you quickly look around as he raises his voice. The path is deserted this time of day.

"And you don't think me capable of learning?"

"Clearly not! Him and Cole are practically the same person!"

"Don't you say that- I didn't like Cole and you know it." You narrow your eyes at him. "Coryo is different. He wouldn't hurt me."

"You do realize that those are like, the famous last words that every teenage girl ever has said and regretted it, right?"

"Do you just not want me to be happy?" You ask bitterly. That wasn't true and you knew it, but you were upset and you knew it would get your point across. He was being cruel.

"The opposite, actually! I just want you to think realistically about fallin' into the open arms of your 'knight in shining armour' who you've literally had nightmares about for weeks on end."

"I am not a child! I am an adult, and I am capable of making my own decisions." You spit. "He's not using me. He loves me, and I love him."

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll say that until-"

"Lennox you are such a.. boy!" You groan. "If you must know, if you must insist that I am so stupid, no, I have not slept with him. Is that what you needed so desperately to hear?"

"Gross." He mumbles, shaking his head with disgust. "I don't care what you do with your alone time, actually I'd really rather not know! All I'm saying is you need to be more careful."

"I'm not going to fight with you. You can trust my decisions or not." You grumble, turning back around to keep walking. He follows behind you silently, neither of you saying another word the whole walk there.

You knock on the door, taking a step back while you wait for it to open. You can hear your brother breathing behind you and it's driving you up the wall. You would drop off the books and send him home- maybe you would stay for a while, go for a walk, something.

The door creaks open and you smile when you see Sejanus. "Y/N!" He grins, opening the door wider for you to come in. "Coryo! Your girlfriend is here!" You blush at the term as you walk in past him.

You hadn't discussed any kind of title to what you had, the looming ache of him leaving again so soon holding you back from wanting to mention it. You assumed he didn't want to discuss it either, both of you silently agreeing just to enjoy the time you still had together.

"Y/N/N." Coryo grins, eyes lighting up as he enters the room.

"Hi." You smile, ignoring your brother pretending to gag behind you.

"What brings you?" Coryo asks. "I didn't expect to see you today, I was thinking of coming to see you myself."

"Yes, well, I went through my books and brought some over that I would like you to take." You look back over your shoulder as Lennox is placing the large pile of books on the dining table.

Coryo hums as he wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. "That's a lot of books." He chuckles.

"You don't have to rush through them, keep them as long as you'd like." You assure him. "I just thought they were some you may enjoy."

"I'm sure I'll love them." He kisses the top of your head. "Thank you."

You turn in his arms to look up at him, ticking your head slightly when you hear Sejanus speak quietly. Clearly, not to either of you. "Hey, I just want to show you something. Come outside with me?" And then the door is shut, and you and Coryo are left alone.

"What's he showing him?" You ask, and Coryo watches through the window as his friend and your brother circle around to the side of the house.

"I am not sure." He answers. Immediately, he's thinking of the note Sejanus had scribbled out for himself. It included your brother's name alongside the dates and times, and those dates were creeping up quickly, the seventeenth being in three days- if he had today's date correct.

"Coryo?"

"Hm?" He looks down at you again. "You were thinkin' for a minute there. What's wrong?"

You were always so concerned. All he had done was take a moment to think, and you seemed genuinely worried. Maybe there was something in his face that showcased his confusion. "Nothing, love." He assures you, but you don't seem inclined to believe it. "Okay, uh, just... Come with me." He grabs your hand, watching out the window to make sure they aren't coming back yet as he leads you to his room.

You step into the small space and smile. He wasn't here for long, but the room already had little touches of him. The bed was made, and there was nothing on the walls but the bedside table had the copy of Romeo and Juliet he had got for you, a folded-up note, and a comb for his hair he had yet to put back in his bag despite him not needing it anymore.

You turn to face him after he shuts the door, smiling. He almost looked normal here, now. Like he was getting used to being here with you, living your life. It certainly wasn't like what he left behind in the Capitol, but to you it was special.

"Y/N, I have something to tell you." Coryo says, serious with a lowered voice. He didn't want anyone to hear it, even though you were still likely alone in the home.

"Okay." You reply, feeling your brow crease as you nod at him. His tone makes you nervous- your heart skips a beat in your chest. For a moment, you feel trapped. Tell him what you need. He won't mind.

"Can you... can you move away from the door, please?" You ask quietly before he has the chance to speak again.

He nods, not wasting a second before passing you and you turn with him, now with the door to your own back. "Is that better? You okay?" He asks and you nod.

"Fine just fine." You smile, trying to be reassuring. "What were you going to tell me?"

"Right, so..." You watch as he runs a hand over his head, still in the habit of pushing back his hair. "I was in Sejanus's room the other day, and I found this note. It had two dates and places on it, and then your brother's name and that was it."

"Oh." That's the only thing you can think of to say. "Well... do you remember the places? Maybe he was just trying to remember Len's name?"

"I don't know, I was hoping you'd know more." Coryo sighs, reaching for the bedside drawer. He had written down what he remembered from the dates and times, because he did want to ask you about it. "But he's been leaving and coming back at odd hours, he won't tell me what he's doing. Is he with Lucy Gray?"

"I don't think so." You frown, shaking your head. "But they have been getting close."

"But that doesn't really feel relevant to the note, or your brother."

"No... It certainly doesn't seem that way."

"Here, so... I wrote it down. Uh... The Hob, August seventeenth at ten pm, and broken fence August eighteenth at four am." He reads off what he remembered enough from the note to write down.

You tilt your head.

"Does that mean anything to you?"

"Well, on the seventeenth The Covey is performing at the Hob, so maybe he planned on going to that." You explain. "But broken fence... there's so many of those around here I couldn't tell you. Although, four am is an incredibly odd time to be meeting anyone."

"That's three hours before our train leaves."

"Oh." You shake your head slightly. "That's very weird."

"I know." Coryo sighs. "He won't tell me either, I've asked if he has any plans that night and he said no."

"Well... We should go." You offer. "Tell him that we're going to the meadow that night, and we'll just go after him. See who he's with."

Coryo raises his eyebrows at you. "I didn't take you for the nosy type."

"Well, I'm a big sister at heart and if it possibly involves Lennox I have to know." You argue. "It could be dangerous. He's always had a few friends I didn't love."

"Are you okay to go back there? I can go without you." He offers.

"I'll be fine." You insist. It's more so out of necessity, you have no choice but to be fine. You have to know- you have to make sure your brother and friend are safe.

"Are you sure about this?" Coryo asks, stopping you outside the entrance to the Hob. "If you want to go home I can take you, I just want you to feel safe."

"I know." You give him a small, reassuring smile as you squeeze his hand. "If I need to leave I'll tell you. I promise."

He nods, taking one last look at you to make sure you still seem okay before he pushes the door open and you both head in.

The building is buzzing- as it usually is when The Covey performs. You smile at the music, letting Coryo pull you close to the side wall as he scans the crowded room for his friend.

"Do you see him?" You ask, and he somehow hears you over the music and shakes his head.

You frown, looking around as well. No sign of Sejanus, no sign of Lennox. Lennox isn't even old enough to be here, but he wasn't at home when you left- and it's not exactly hard to sneak in.

"There," Coryo says, nodding in the direction of the opposite side of the room. You follow his eyes, and spot Sejanus talking to someone you recognize. "Who's he with?"

"Spruce." You explain. "His sister is scheduled to be executed tomorrow afternoon." You add, leaning closer so no one else will hear.

You watch as they head toward the back hall, the same one you ran down just a couple of weeks ago. "Should we go after them?" You ask when Coryo doesn't reply and he nods, watching them as he pulls you down the outside wall toward them.

You make it back to the hall without Lucy Gray spotting you, as far as you can tell. Standing outside the door, you hear shouting. You watch Coryo as he clenches his jaw, shaking his head.

"Wait out here." He tells you, dropping your hand.

"No- I, I should come." You shake your head and he grabs your cheeks, lifting your head to look into your eyes.

"I don't know what they're fighting about but it doesn't sound good. Wait out here." He's stern as he gently brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. "Listen to Lucy Gray, just watch the door. Okay, love?"

"Okay." You agree quietly, slightly nodding.

He kisses your forehead before letting you go, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open and disappearing behind it.

You chew your nails as you wait with your ear to the door, trying to decipher who is inside with them. It's hard to tell with all the shouting going on, but you hadn't heard Lennox.

"Y/N." You hear your name, quickly jumping back from the door and turning to face the voice. "What are you doin' here?"

You chew your cheek, trying to avoid Cole's gaze. "Just waitin' for Lucy Gray." You lie, looking down.

"Ah." He hums, nodding slightly as he steps closer to you. "Where's your purebred Capitol attack dog?"

"What are you doing here, Cole?" You ask, ignoring his question.

"We got leave passes for the weekend." He answers. "Hoff said something about 'boosting morale'."

"That's nice." You smile nervously. "Well, I don't want to keep you, so..."

"You aren't." He smirks, tilting his head as he looks down at you. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, you know that, right?"

"I know." You say softly.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"Cole..." You sigh, looking down again. "We talked about this I just... We're too different. I'm sorry."

"Oh, because you have so much more in common with that prick- right?" He laughs sarcastically. "He's Capitol! He'll never know you like I do. Honestly, I'm offended that you'd choose him over me."

"I'm not choosing him over you." You frown. "I already knew we wouldn't work before I ever met him. This is very, very different. I'm sorry."

"You are? Oh, I'm glad to hear that." He nods and you eye him suspiciously. "Maybe then after he leaves, you'll give me another chance. He's taking the next train, tomorrow morning, right?"

"I can't do that, Cole." You shake your head.

"That's an awful shame." The evil smile on his face doesn't fade. "I'll have no choice but to report your father."

Your heart drops. "My Pa hasn't done anything."

He sucks in through his teeth. "Well, suspicion is enough to charge, and I don't know... I get a bit of an off feeling from him. It's actually my duty to report any suspicions we have, so honestly I've been protecting you, and I'd like to keep doing that, you know?"

You finally picked up on what he was saying, and immediately could taste the bitterness of fear on your tongue, a metallic tang that seemed to linger in the air.

"So? Do we have a date?"

"Sure." You mutter through gritted teeth.

"Sweet, thanks for finally coming to your senses, bug." Cole smiles, patting your shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon!" He calls back as he walks away.

You don't even care what's going on inside, you can't be alone in this dark hallway anymore.

You pull the door open and rush in, but you're quickly stopped by Coryo's arm as he takes a few steps back, pushing you behind him. "What- what's-"

"She can't be in here!" Spruce spits at Coryo as you look past him, gasping at the sight of several guns on the table and the one in his arms.

"Listen, she's not involved." Sejanus promises.

"Her brother is gonna help us, it's cool. She won't tell." You look at Billy Taupe when he speaks, eyes wide.

"No- this is crazy." Mayfair shakes her head. "She's not coming with us. We're not bringing her or Lucy Gray. I'm leaving."

"No, they aren't coming. I just said I'd ask. Now she knows, so she probably should." Billy Taupe replies and your eyes flick between the couple. You had no idea what was going on, where he wanted you to go, and what this had to do with Sejanus or your brother.

"No! My daddy will have you all strung up for this." She throws her hands up and starts to walk toward the back door. Your heart is pounding in your chest as Coryo reaches for one of the guns.

"Don't!" You cry out, forcing yourself in front of him just as he aims the gun at her. At you.

"Y/N, you gotta move right now." He says quickly, and you hear her footsteps stop behind you.

You can only look at his eyes as they flit between anger, instinct, and fear.

"Coryo." You say, voice cracking and it's only then that you feel the tears dampening your cheeks.

The barrel of the gun is under an inch from your chest, and you can see his hands shaking as he holds the heavy weapon in his hands. He won't shoot you- he won't.

The world around you seems to blur as your focus narrows on the overwhelming sense of fear gripping you tightly. Right now, if someone asked where you were, you wouldn't know. You just as easily could have been standing in the arena. 

He doesn't dare move as he stares at you, eyes wide. He doesn't want to hurt you, but that's why he has to do this. He can't let whoever that girl was have you killed. Still, you stand in front of him. Shaking, but not moving. This was the girl he knew from the games who offered a rose to Coral who in the moments before was threatening her. The girl who so thoroughly hated the idea of bringing harm to others that her own mind blocked it out completely and replaced the story with something else. This was the girl who was willing to give up her life just to be able to give the other tributes an honourable burial that she knew they wouldn't otherwise receive. 

The girl who saw him kill another boy and despite all of that, still had it in her heart to forgive him.

You don't even hear Mayfair laugh and begin to walk away again, you only hear the gunshot that follows. You jump, immediately looking down to assess the damage. Coryo wasn't pointing the gun at you anymore, he had dropped his arms in defeat- and you had mistaken the loud noise for an impact you were expecting.

He didn't shoot you.

"What did you do?" You turn as Billy Taupe screams, eyes widening as you see Mayfair bleeding out on the floor.

"Oh god- oh god..." You mumble, stepping back until you bump into Coryo. He drops the gun back onto the table, pulling you into his arms.

"Don't look, don't look..." He tells you, turning you and pressing your head to his chest so you can't see anymore even if you wanted to.

You can't even make out what Spruce and Billy Taupe are yelling at each other over the sound of your blood pumping through your veins. Until the second gunshot.

You must be sobbing now, clinging onto the front of Coryo's shirt so tight your knuckles are burning. "You're okay, it's okay." He tells you. You don't know what's going on- you don't want to.

Coryo stares between Spruce and the body of Billy Taupe now slumped down next to Mayfair. He needs to get you out of here, now, but he doesn't know how. This has to be handled first.

He's letting you go only to grab your cheeks and get you to look at him. "Go back outside, you have to go back outside, I will handle this."

You can't even speak- can't even move. You try and shake your head. You couldn't leave him, not right now. You feel like you'd die the moment he ceased touching you.

The door slides open again, followed by an angry voice you know too well. "What the fuck?" Cole must have been watching you. He must have heard.

"No..." You cry, shaking your head. If Cole saw this you were absolutely all screwed.

"What the fuck did you do?" Cole shouts again. "Nobody fucking move! You're all-"

Another gunshot. Silence.

"Oh no, no, no..." You try and look behind Coryo but he doesn't let you, holding your head firmly into his chest again.

"It's okay. Don't look." He says again, staring at Sejanus who looks like he's panicking just as much as you are now.

"Why'd you tell them where we were? Now you've gone and screwed us all over! I just shot a peacekeeper!"

"He didn't tell anyone." Coryo defends him. "We followed him, Cole followed us."

"Fuck." Spruce sighs, throwing the gun onto the pile of others still laid across the table. "We gotta bump this up. We have to get Lil now, go tell Lennox to get the stuff and hide it for us like we said."

"Get rid of the guns and pretend this never happened."Coryo hisses. "And leave the kid out of this. It's too late for whatever plan you had now- we don't know where he is."

You can't even hear a single thing going on anymore. You're actually sure you might faint.

When you go from shaking to completely still in Coryo's arms, he knows you have. "Shit..." He mumbles, trying to steady you as your knees give out. He quickly readjusts so he can lift you with an arm under your knees and the other under your back.

"I gotta get her out of here and you have to move quick. Get rid of the guns. Now." He instructs, and surprisingly, Spruce listens. He throws the weapons into a bag and steps over the two bodies by the door before leaving.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Sejanus cries, gripping onto his hair and breathing heavily. "No one was supposed to get hurt!"

"Sejanus, for once just shut up!" He grabs his attention from where his friend is staring at the dead couple, clearly losing his mind. Coryo doesn't have time for this- an unconscious girl in his arms and his friend looking like he's about to be in the same state in a matter of moments.

"It's all my fault..."

"All of this is your fault!" Coryo agrees, looking around at the mess of the room. "It's only gonna get worse if you don't pull yourself together."

"Oh, god..."

"If you breathe a word now, all three of us are finished. Just like in the arena. We came here to see her. If we go down, she goes with us." He holds you tighter to his chest as your hair falls over the curve of his arm, your head limp against his skin. "So now we have to go back to the house, gather all our shit, and act like nothing is wrong. We have to board the train tomorrow like nothing is wrong. Do you understand?"

"I- I don't know." Sejanus sniffs.

"Hey." Coryo says, taking a few steps closer. "Look at me. You have to pull it together. I know you wanted to go with them but now they aren't going. We've got to stick together. You won't get in trouble. I won't let anything happen to you, but you have to listen to me." It was obvious that it didn't matter that none of you pulled the trigger- being in the room was enough; especially when a peacekeeper had been murdered. If you were caught, you'd all be executed. "We're brothers, yeah? Brothers. Whatever you've done, I swear I will keep you safe."

"Brothers. Yeah." Sejanus mutters, still obviously in shock.

"Those guns were the only loose ends besides the four of us, so we're gonna be okay as long as we leave tomorrow." He breathes. "Okay? Not a word."

"O-Okay." Sejanus nods slightly, trying to keep his focus on the boy in front of him rather than their unconscious friend in his arms.

Coryo tried to give him a reassuring smile, but inside he was panicking too. They could escape it all on the train tomorrow, but now came the problem of what to do with you.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[pfhwrittes]

inspired by my own tags on the latest post for the tradieverse

tags for posterity: #tradie!141#nikolai#the man steers with his knees going at least 10mph over the speed limit on the narrowest road you've ever seen#while rolling a cigarette or chatting to the pretty thing back at the depot on his phone#(don't be like nik - don't do this)#he also does some...dubiously legal things when it comes to his tacho card but that's a whole other story#(also do not fuck with your tacho card - it's VERY illegal)

"hello, sweetness." nikolai's voice purrs over the sound of the rumbling engine of his truck into your ear and you roll your eyes in response despite the fact he's unable to see you.

"don't call me that, nikolai." you reply immediately, keeping your voice calm and level. you can't show him that he's gotten under your skin otherwise he'll send you endless bouquets of flowers (like the last time you'd snapped at him) or offer to show you a great hands on relaxation technique he knows.

"but milaya, how else will you know that i'm thinking of you?"

you huff down the phone at him and earn yourself a chuckle. you very pointedly ignore the way the sound makes your ears warm and focus on the manifest in front of you.

"i'm not here for you to flirt with, i need to know what you're doing with this order of -" you squint at the unintelligible handwritten scrawl "-whatever it is for price."

nik hums and you wait for him to explain further, which, of course, he doesn't.

"nik! for god's sake -" your tone goes sharp, unwilling to play his silly games today of all days, and he interrupts you.

"my apologies milaya, i was distracted by your beautiful voice. it's fine. i delivered the -" the connection goes static-y and you catch the tail end of what you're sure is some creative russian swearing and the sounds of horns honking before he continues, "-i'm on my way back to the depot now, my sweet office mouse."

you look at the manifest again and blink, that shouldn't be possible taking into account the afternoon rush hour.

"nikolai."

"yes, moya milaya?" he croons, and you know he's smirking around a lit cigarette.

"please tell me you took your break." it's not begging if you have to ask due to the law, at least that's what you tell yourself.

nikolai heaves a lovelorn sigh, "i would tell you anything you wanted to hear, sweetness."

"that's what i'm afraid of." you mutter to yourself.

"hm? what was that?"

"nothing." you shoot back, ignoring the way the back of your neck is prickling with warmth. how is it that every time you need to ring nikolai the conversation always ends up going off the rails?

"perhaps, if you're worried about my breaks, you should let me take you to dinner when i come back, hm?" nikolai is using that tone, the dangerously persuasive one that you're sure charmed your predecessor, and you ignore the way something in your stomach somehow manages to float and curdle simultaneously.

"no i - it wouldn't be appropriate. thank you for confirming the manifest, nik. that's all i needed." your tone is perhaps a touch too brusque and nikolai sighs deeply, the sound crackling lightly with static.

"ah well. perhaps another time, milaya." you're not sure but it sounds like nikolai is forcing his tone to be falsely light. "i must go, the police like to hide at this junction of the motorway."

and with that the call ends.

you frown lightly at the manifest in front of you, how strange... you were sure price's drop point didn't require nik to travel on the M6 today...

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

hi! i’m currently making my own ask blog and was wondering if you had any tips abt literally anything? including art and stuff ^^’

trying to find my style but also find a style that i can easily draw over and over again

hi ! yeah i can give some tips

really the first thing of all is to Have Fun . i'm running this blog as i have always wanted to run an ask blog for a long time and thus have the energy and motivation to do so . really , ask blogs can be pretty demanding to run so just know if you're up for the challenge ... !

as for the art , it's fuckall really . what i loved about ask blogs back in the day is the variety of art styles i could find . it just depends on how frequently you want to update and the mood of the ask blog , really ! more sillier and character-based ask blogs have simpler art styles while story-based and elaborate ones have a more complex one - having colors and shading and all that

but Be Careful if you're going for the latter !! you might get burnt out and that's no good !! which is why i'll say you shouldn't feel pressure with updating often . ask blogs most of the time are comics , and comics take a while to draw . so take breaks if you can (: some ask blogs have an update schedule like actual webcomics and that's also another option .

and don't overdo it in the tags , like . don't put the characters that aren't in the post in the tags . it's both annoying and would get you blocked by a bunch of people . just put the main tags and character tags and you're done . i've since phased out the main tags as i've already have an audience for this thing . surprisingly .

and if you're running a story-based blog ... um ... ask blogs are very fickle . like think of this as a dnd campaign — you're not really in control , your players are . they might say or do something that will change the story's direction but may be even more interesting than what you have actually planned . basically do not expect things to go 100% as planned .

the only thing you have 100% control over really is the lore that your askers would uncover ! and that leads me to the next tip - how much power does your askers have ? are they just voices in the character's head guiding them or are they agents of chaos that can do literally anything ?

now . for the asks itself ... You Guys Don't Have To Follow My Way Of Doing It - which is just opening the asks and picking out the ones i feel like drawing . some ask blogs do an ' ask limit ' where they only allow a limited amount of asks before closing the inbox . which i think is good if you're not a fast artist like me

if you don't get a lot of asks , it's okay to ask your friends to drop some ! really , do it . it's a way for you to start posting and let people know it's active .

oh lord , long post ! but yeah here's my tips ... ! i love ask blogs so it's nice to see people make more (:

[hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog]

Limelight Series - Chapter 2

Happy Monday Everyone! Here is chapter 2 of the limelight series! If you haven't read chapter one, click here to read it and then come back to read chapter 2.

This series came way of a message/ask from @hobby27 she asked:

"I would love something with Jensen and reader. He sees her when he’s at a convention and he’s bonkers for her. She isn’t so interested in a relationship with him because of the fame. So he has to woo her. Make her understand that he’s not a typical movie/tv star. Slow burn."

So I give you the Limelight series- It's a Jensen x reader (plus size, curvy girl) story, Jensen meets the reader in a bar, he falls fist, she is reluctant of course, but secretly she fell for him the second he walked through the door. So can a small town girl and a celebrity make it work?

Warnings for the whole series: language, multi-pov and switching between the pov mid chapters (sorry I can't help it), Jensen coming off aggressive for a hot second but then cooling off. Some douche side characters and some lovable ones, body shaming, angst, fluff, swoon, Jared is there and Micha is mention.

This story takes place an AU where Jensen is not married but Jared is and has kids.

This chapter is 3K+. Feedback, likes and reblogs are always welcomed. Please don't post as your own work, this is my work. If you would like to be added to my tag list, just ask, I am always happy to add you.

Thanks!

Once you're back in the safety of the kitchen, you finally take a breath. Oh, holy hell, you were breathing the same air as Jesnes Ackles!!!! And now you're cooking for him!!! AHHHH. You try to calm down, taking deep breaths. You have to play it cool. Come on, he's just a guy like everyone else. 

"Are you fucking kidding me!" James' voice pulls you out of your panic. 

You look up to see him standing on the other side of the small prep table that is between you, too.

"What?" You question. Feeling yourself come back together.

You familiarize yourself with the kitchen you used to know, like the back of your hand. Everything was the same; why wouldn't it be? You only gave up your kitchen and cooking career a few months ago. Turning on the deep fryer, and oven. You make your way to the small walk-in cooler.

"Are you serious? Were you going to leave me high and dry and not cook for them?" James questions as he follows you.

After surveying your limited options, you settled on nachos, picking up the ingredients and handing them to James to hold.

"No, of course not." You passively say, tossing items for him to grab, "I mean, I figured you would beg." You turn to face him, "I didn't expect his friends to be total assholes." 

Waving at James to move out of your way and back to the kitchen.

James sets everything on the table and watches you move around the room.

"Yeah, I think that Evan guy is getting his ass handed to him right now," James says matter-of-fact, picking up a tomato and tossing it back and forth in his hands. "Jensen seems kind of taken with you." 

You look at him, "Yeah, I am sure he's just a bit tipsy and being a good southern boy." You reply, dropping the tortillas in the fryer. "Plus, I am sure he doesn't want it to come out that he hangs out with assholes." 

As you return to the table, you snatch the tomato from James' hands to start making a quick salsa. "I don't know; I think there is something there." James sing-songs. 

Shaking your head in disbelief at James and his need to play matchmaker. "Just drop it. Shouldn't you be out there, ensuring no one runs off with the till or the liquor?" You question, really wanting some alone time with your thoughts. 

******

Since James had let the rest of the staff go earlier in the night, it was up to you to deliver the food. You loaded the tray and hooked the stand in your elbow to set it down once you got to the table. You prayed to anyone who would listen that you and the food would make it to the table in one piece.

You make your way towards the booth in the corner. Jared sees you first and gets up to offer assistance.

"Here, can I help?" he asks sweetly, giving you a half smile. His hazel eyes are slightly glassy from the drinking, and his long chestnut hair falls somewhat. 

"Umm, yeah, can you take the stand and open it up for me?" You ask, thankful that your voice is steady and that you're not feeling weak in the knees. You hold out your arm with the stand for him to take it from you. 

"Oh yeah," he replies, grabbing it, setting it down next to the table on Jensen's side, and then sitting back down.

You try to avoid making eye contact with Jensen but fail miserably. Sitting down the tray, you feel his eyes on you. You look up, and he smiles at you. Turning towards the table, you put on your best hostess smile.

"Well, boys, I hope you're hungry. I wasn't sure what you would be craving, so I did some of everything." You pick up the dishes individually and sit them on the table. 

"Classic bar food of wings, mozzarella sticks, beef nachos, and my favorite, perfectly crispy, hot fries." Setting the fries down closest to Jensen, your eyes linger a bit longer than needed.

Fuck, he is too hot for his own good. Slowing down your thoughts before they stumble out from your lips, you pull your eyes away and pick up the plates, napkins, and sauces to sit on the table. 

"This all looks amazing, sweetheart." Jensen's deep Southern voice breaks the silence. "Doesn't it?" he questions, his eyes staring down Evan. 

"Yeah, it looks great; thank you," Evan and his counterpart mumble. Evan looks up at you. "I am sorry about earlier, " he says, his voice cracking at the end. 

Shit, he changed his tone real quick.

You smile, "Thanks." No need to dish out anymore to him; you're sure Jensen already gave him enough of an ass-chewing.

Picking up the empty pitcher, you ask. "Need anything else besides another pitcher?" 

"Yeah, that would be great. Thanks," Jared replies, filling his plate with food. 

Giving the table a short nod, you pick up the tray to walk away and get some air. Are you star-struck?  Yes, you are a human. But you're also cautious and know under any other circumstances that if you weren't the only woman in the room,  none of the guys at the table, especially Jensen, would be paying attention to you. 

Setting the empty pitcher in front of James, he fills it up without incident. "So, you good?" He asks, focusing on making the perfect pour.

Letting out the breath you have been holding, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" You question. Running your hands through your hair and then glancing back at the table.

They're laughing and bantering back and forth, eating and enjoying life. If anyone was to come in and didn't know better, they would think they were just four average guys out for a good time on a Friday night. And really, that's all they are; regular guys, two of which have a bit of money and celebrity status. 

You look back to James. He sits the pitcher down, "I remember you having a major crush on Jensen for the longest time. Wasn't he on your list?"

Oh, of course, he would remember the list. The famous people you would fuck list if you ever had the chance. The stupid list that never comes true.  Shit why did you even tell him?

"Yeah, and I am pretty sure you had Misha on yours." You quip back, feeling your cheeks redden at the thought it might be possible.

"Yeah, but no one from my list is in the same room with me and has been giving me 'fuck me' eyes all night." 

"OK, whatever, you're seeing things. Besides, if you hadn't sent home all your waitstaff, Jensen would be making eyes with someone else. I am just the only one left with a vagina in the room."

James lets out an audible laugh that fills the room and gets the guys to snap their heads over to us.

"Yeah, OK, keep thinking that, Y/N." He distracted himself by running the bar rag over the bartop. "You know you're a knockout."

Rolling your eyes at this. Hearing comments like this always makes you self-conscious. After years of being overweight, fat, curvy, whatever you want to call it, you have come to terms with guys that look like Jensen, guys that are part of the 'beautiful people.' Despite their 'great personality,' they don't go for the average-looking girl with clothing sizes in the double digits.

Ugh, your negative thoughts are coming to the surface, and you don't want to deal with them right now or with the present company.

"You know, you can deliver this to them." You mutter, feeling the need to escape from prying eyes. You spin around quickly to be met with a wall of muscle.

"Hey, sweetheart," Jensen says, a smile on his face.

You slightly stumble and take a few unsteady steps back. "Whoa, sorry," you say, keeping your eyes down, not trusting yourself to look in those gorgeous green eyes.

"No apology needed, Darling. I was wondering…" his voice is smooth and sweet, with his Texas draw coming out.

His hands find your waist to steady you. "You want to join us, knuckleheads? I swear Evan will keep his mouth shut." He gives you a wink.

"Oh, no, thank you, that's nice of you to ask, but…" You stammer out. Your mind is slightly hazy with his close proximity and the feel of his hands on your waist. Nope, not your waist, your hips, actually. All this attention- the fact that it's him and you're sure his friends are now watching- is creating a pressure storm of fear in your chest.

Jensen does not pick up on your sudden mood shift, which is that you're having the start of a small panic attack. He thinks you're just being coy and hard to get.

"How about this, sweetheart? I have the Impala parked out back. We could ditch these losers for a while and go for a drive." His voice shifts from Jensen's Texas draw to full-on Dean's deep, sexy voice.

Whoa, what the hell! Pushing his hands off you, "Yeah, No." You step out from his hold. You will not be another notch on his belt.

"Do you think I would be grateful just because you stood up for me to your friend?" you ask, wondering why he was suddenly being handsy and pushy.  

"Your sweet, southern boy charm may work on most girls, but…ugh…just stop with the sweetheart, OK. You're leaning in hard with your Dean Winchester persona, don't you think?"

This sobers Jensen up. A boyish smirk falls from his face. "Umm..." he stumbles to backtrack a bit.

Well, that has to be a first—a female rejecting him—no wonder he's short-circuited and has no reply. Feeling disappointment wash over you, you want to go home.

"I have to clean up the kitchen." Keeping your tone neutral, you give James a side eye and head towards the kitchen.

*****

It's been half an hour. You have put everything back, cleaned every surface, and restored the kitchen to its spotless state. James only pops in to drop off the dirty plates and empty glasses. 

"You know, you don't have to do this. Go home, and I can finish cleaning up." He says, setting the beer pint glasses next to the sink where you were standing.

Picking up the glasses, you set them in the sink and wash them up. "No, I got it. Besides, I would rather wait until they leave. Feeling a bit embarrassed by my outburst." 

You've been replaying the whole night since you've been back here. 

God, what were you thinking! You're not saying you had to let Jensen put the moves on you, but was he? No, he was just being nice, that's all. Like you could ever get a guy like him. Feeling your cheeks go scarlet again. 

"You have nothing to be embarrassed by. Jensen's a grown-ass man; I am sure he has heard it before." James' voice pulls you from your thoughts. "Besides, they left a few minutes ago, so you're safe."

You rinse off the glasses and set them on the drying rack. "Yeah, I highly doubt Jensen has ever been rejected by a female in his life." You quip, pulling the bar rag from James' pocket and drying your hands.

"I am just lucky there weren't more people to witness my demise." You hand back the towel to James and cross your arms around yourself. 

"Again, you have nothing to worry about." Playfully knocking his shoulder into yours, "You want to talk about it? You seemed like you had something on your mind tonight." 

His voice is laced with concern for his friend.

"Nothing can get past you." You mutter, trying to play it off.

"I know you have dealt with your fair share of handsy guests. But this time, it seems to be the straw that broke you." Noticing your quietness, he adds, "But I get it; it's been a long night; we don't have to talk about it." Giving you the out that you desperately need.

You look up at your friend, his kind brown eyes saying so much. "God, what would I do without you?" You say out loud.

He pulls you in for a side hug, "You will never have to find out." Giving you a quick kiss on the top of your head. "You need a ride home?"

Shaking your head, no, "I am good."

"Good.  Now get out of here, please. You have helped me enough tonight; I owe you big time."

"Honestly, it wasn't anything special, but you're welcome." Playfully knocking your shoulder into his, you push yourself up from the sink.

"Night, James." You say, giving him a half smile, and head towards the back exit.

*******

The temperature has dropped slightly since you first entered the bar tonight, but not enough to warrant your jacket, so you sling it over your arm and enjoy the stillness of the night. The quietness and cool air are one thing you miss from working late nights at the bar. Getting into your jeep, you plug in your phone and see a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey, it's Jensen. I wanted to apologize for my actions earlier. I should not have put my hands on you or asked you to leave when you don't even know me. I should have picked up that you didn't want to have anything to do with me. 

God damn it. James! This has to be a prank, right? 

You: OK, James, nice try. Like I said earlier, I am fine. There is no need to text me from your burner phone to make me feel better.

Unknown: Umm…this isn't James.

You know better than to keep engaging with a scammer, but this was too weird.

You: OK, fine, Keep it up, but you're not Jensen. Unknown: JPG. 

Staring back at you is a photo of Jensen in the same outfit he was in tonight. Giving you his best sad boy face. Sitting on a beige couch, no other recognizable things in the background. No fucking way. It can't be.

You: Nice. Look at you putting your Google skills to use. What did you type in the search bar: 'photo of Jensen Ackles looking sad?'

Unknown: JPG.

Another photo pops in. This time, it's Jensen holding yesterday's Detroit Free Press newspaper. 

Unknown: This is starting to feel like hostage negotiations or ransom demands. It's really me.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! How the hell did he get your number! 

You: How the hell did you get my number!?

Unknown/Jensen: So now you believe me? That's good. I hoped I wouldn't have to send you more 'proof of life' photos. James gave me your number after I begged, groveled, and bribed him. 

Are you fucking kidding me! Damn it, James! I am going to kill him. Feeling yourself wish for a sweet death. You try to even out your breathing. It's nothing; you're just texting the hottest guy ever. Getting some composure back, you reply. 

You:  So, how much is my number going for these days?

Jensen: A signed photo of Misha and possibly dragging his ass out to the bar soon. 

You: Wow, that's all? Not sure if James got a deal or if you got screwed. 

Jensen: I got the better end of the deal. 

You shake your head at this. Even through text, he can still make you blush!

You: Well, if you say so. Thanks for the apology, but it wasn't necessary. 

Jensen: No, it was. I was an ass, and you made it clear from the start you weren't interested in me. 

You: I wouldn't say that. I know I am not your first or 100th choice of female companion, that's all.

Wow, OK, where is this boldness coming from? Looking back at the message you just sent, you want to delete it or backtrack on your last comment, but you see he is already drafting a reply.

Jensen: Why do you say that? You're beautiful. I was dumbstruck if it wasn't obvious. so... you're interested in me?

His second message bubble gets you. What girl wouldn't be interested? You want to reply that you're not blind. 

You: You say that to all the local girls you meet?

Jensen: No, just you. I would really like to see you again. Are you free tomorrow?

Is Jensen Ackles asking you out on a date? For real? No, this can't be happening! If anything, it's not a date; it's more of a 'good press. Make things nice with the locals.' Feeling the tiredness of the day taking over, you want to keep the conversation going, but at the same time, you want to be in comfy clothes and your house. 

You: Can I get back to you on this?

Jensen: Yeah, no pressure. Whenever and whatever works for you.

You: Thanks, I am just tired, and I still have to drive home.

Jensen: Wait, you're still out? Where are you?

You: Sitting in my car, parked a few blocks from the bar. I saw your text when I got to my car. 

Jensen: OK, stop texting me and get home. You shouldn't be just sitting in your car late at night. Text me when you get home.

You: OK, Dad. It will take me about 20 minutes.

It's sweet that he's concerned, but it's Haven, not downtown Detroit - you are perfectly safe to sit in your car this late at night. 

Jensen: I am starting a timer now.

Oh shit. Guess you better get going.

*****

Pulling into your garage and leaving your car, your phone dings with an incoming text message.

Jensen: You home?

Shutting the car door, you shake your head at this. Part of you wants to make him sweat. Yes, it's slightly sweet, but he just met you! Waiting for the garage door to shut before going in, you quickly reply.

You: Yes, Dad, I just got in. 

Jensen: I am sorry. I'm just worried. 

Shit, of course, he is a good guy. Not used to this, are we? Kicking off your shoes, you go to the kitchen to grab some water, then head to your room. 

You: Sorry. I'm not used to someone worrying. Plus, the town is a safe place. I've lived here my whole life. 

Jensen: So, you're a local girl. I bet you know all the best places to go. Can you take me on a private tour?

You: A tour of Haven?  It won't be long. Plus, I am sure your schedule is jam-packed with convention stuff; you probably won't leave the city until you leave for the airport.

You're trying your best to give him an out and remind him of why he's here in the first place. You know that convention schedules are no joke, and the talent has little to no downtime. Schedule panels and photo shoots during the day and parties for the convention goers at night, where they must appear.

Jensen: I can move some stuff around. When is a good time for you?

Of course, he will 'just move stuff around.'

You: Jensen, seriously, I don't want you to move anything around for me. That's not fair to anyone at the convention. 

Jensen: But I want to see you again. Please? My evenings are free, at least from scheduled convention appearances. I wouldn't be canceling on the fans.

You: You're sure? I don't want to discover that you bailed on your fans for me. They can be brutal.

Jensen: I promise. So, dinner? You pick the place, anywhere you want to go.

You mulled over the idea of dinner with Jensen Ackles. God, you would be an idiot to turn him down! Besides, a nice dinner with a handsome guy might be fun. 

You: OK, 7 pm, I will meet you in the convention center's lobby.

Jensen: OK, great. Can I pick you up, too, so you don't have to drive into the city?

You: That's sweet, but I will be in the city anyway. See you then.

There is no need to explain tonight why you would already be in the city. Exhaustion is hitting you hard, and as much as you want to keep talking, your body has other plans. 

Jensen: OK, night

You: Night

To Be Continued......

Tag List:

@lmhf1 @kr804573 @smoothdogsgirl @n-o-p-e-never @stoneyggirl2

[seangelfish]

hii Hii this may sound strange but I would like to ask for TWC (separately) reaction headcanons when they see their mc getting what she wants in restaurants, stores, etc thanks to her "pretty privilege" a double edged sword that helped her survive working as a model but at the same time she was treated as an object when she was a minor unu .

thanks in advance and also thanks for opening requests /hugg

S/O WITH PRETTY PRIVILEGE

Featured characters: Naoakira Saimon, Yohei Kanbayashi, Ryu Natsume, Shiki Ando ♡ Tags: Headcanons, established relationships, casual romance, she/her pronouns, not proofread! ♡ Word count: 1,269 ♡ Synopsis: As stated in the request, you have pretty privilege. You could get anything you want for free! But there are limits, and not everyone sees what you see when using this to your leverage. ♡ A/N: I actually enjoyed writing this even though I wasn't really sure how to write it. It was an interesting request though, so I hope you like it~ (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Saimon tells you with sincerity that this is morally wrong. He doesn't condone this, lecturing you that this might backfire on you one day.

And for the first time in forever, you feel at ease at these words. You weren't sure why, but it was probably because when you usually get stuff given to you for free, the people around you encouraged it.

It was expected that people only befriended you for your beauty and the privileges it offers. Though, at one point, it was too much, too suffocating.

That's how you ended up with nobody.

Until Saimon, that is.

When you explained why this happens to you, Saimon isn't taken aback because he knows how beautiful you are and it does make sense that these people would offer you all these things for free.

"But do you truly like it when they do?" he asked.

"Well, I can't say I don't," you replied honestly. "I guess sometimes I do feel like I'm doing something wrong though..."

He nodded and smiled. "Then you know what to do," he stated, caressing your hand.

Therefore, the next time someone offered you something for free, you tried declining. However, it was hard, it felt odd to decline their offer after this being a part of your life for so long.

"You don't need to do that," stated Saimon. "I will be the one paying."

You looked up at him, relieved. The server quickly understood the situation and let Saimon pay.

"I guess this will take getting used to," Saimon said with a lighthearted chuckle. "But I will be here for you when you need me."

You thanked him with a warm smile. Over time, you learned how to reject these offers. It truly felt like you were a part of society now, not an object that needed to be worshipped, and Saimon supported you all the way.

When the bill for the meal you had with your boyfriend was completely discarded, Yohei gets extremely suspicious. But he lets it slide until the second time when you actively ask for a discount with the use of your beauty.

He tells you to stop it immediately, that he can pay for it. However, you don't give in since this was your normality for such a long time, it would be weird to finally pay something in full.

So to Yohei's dismay, you keep accepting the generous offers. Your beauty was your strong point and you were going to use it to its fullest extent. Shouldn't Yohei be happy about this? He didn't even need to use his money on you! You could get everything for free!

But Yohei hated it. He hated seeing men succumb to your charms, to offer you a meal on the house. He hated seeing their eyes fall on your pretty face, their fingers to their lips as they shush you not to tell anyone about this.

"(Y/N), stop this now," he repeated. "Stop doing this."

"But why? Isn't this great? We can get anything we want!"

"Argh, that's not the point. (Y/N), you may think you're taking advantage of your pretty privilege, but one day, you may have to repay that."

You didn't understand what he meant by that.

He sighed. "Listen, one day someone will want something out of you for providing you with free things, and it isn't going to be pretty. So stop it now."

You were quiet. Yohei was right, but what did that mean for you? This was your life leading up to now, and you were just going to stop all of that? Yet again, using your beauty to survive in this world had always made you uncomfortable especially when you were young.

"And anyways," Yohei continued, cutting you off from your flashback. "I want to provide for you... as a boyfriend should."

As expected, Ryu is going to indulge in this privilege of yours because that means he can get free stuff too!

He doesn't question why people around you are offering these things to you nor does he really care, he just thinks this is neat!

But when you start batting your eyelashes and twirling your hair at the servers, the smile on his face quickly diminishes.

Why are you doing that? he wondered.

Yet those simple acts always result in luxury that he completely disregards it.

For a few times at least.

One day, he asks you the reason why these people are giving you free things. When you explain to him it was because of your pretty privilege, Ryu goes unusually silent.

"So you're entertaining them?" he said coldly which was unlike his super bubbly attitude. "What more have you done with them to get these things?"

This hurt you more than it should have. Why was he being so mean? Was it that big of a deal?

"Ryu, I don't really appreciate that–"

"Neither do I."

But before you could retort back, Ryu had snapped out of it. He recognised the sullen look on your face and asked you what was wrong.

"Do you think what I'm doing is wrong?" you asked him after the long, unbearable silence. He tilted his head like a cat, unsure of what you were talking about. "Of me getting stuff for free..."

"Oh..." he murmured. "I don't know, but it is kindaaa weird!"

"Haha, you think...?"

You didn't think he'd listen, but you clarified the reasons why this happens to you.

"(Y/N), I'm sorry," he said sadly.

"N-No, it's okay! That's all in the past now, but I guess old habits die hard. I'll try to stop it; if not, at least minimise it."

Ryu smiled, engulfing you in a big hug. He stroked your back like the way you'd do for him, reassuring you that all he wanted was for you to be comfortable with what you do, that you didn't need to do that anymore. After all, you were a person, not an object.

But it wouldn't hurt if you did use your pretty privilege once in a while~

Shiki gets extremely scared when you accept the free meal. He quickly rejects it, stating to the server that he’s already paying for everything. He doesn’t understand why this just happened even when you explained it to him.

He knows how beautiful you are, but this feels wrong. Should he even condone this? Whenever someone offers you something for free, their eyes look longingly at you and it’s something that Shiki fears.

He feels incredibly guilty now that this keeps happening, but he notices from the corner of his eye that you feel a little guilty about it too.

"(Y/N), it's okay to decline their offers if it makes you uncomfortable..." he spoke up. "B-But I know you've survived this long with your looks, so I don't expect you to stop! It's your decision after all..."

It just worries him that one day you’d be the one being taken advantage of. It scares him to think that someone would want something in return for their ‘generosity.’ Moreover, he thinks that the two of you would get in trouble for this, and he doesn't want to be caught up in that!

Due to his anxiety revolving around your pretty privilege, you decided to stop accepting the free gifts.

Sure, people are still going to goggle at you, but you no longer worked as a model who needed strangers’ generosity to survive. Now you can afford these things yourself like a normal person.

Shiki calms down, apologising for the fact that it was a great privilege to be this pretty to get free things. However, he just couldn’t have others gift you with free stuff when he was the one who wanted to do that for you.

"(Y/N), I'm going to work harder to afford the things you want!" he said triumphantly.

"Hehe, you don't need to do that, Shiki. You're all I need."

Intro page | Paradox Live masterlist | Request rules

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 14 - Anachronism

Anachronism (noun) 1. a person, thing, or idea that exists out of its time in history, especially one that happened or existed later than the period being shown

Tags & Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Violence, Murder

Day 1

“I see, okay, cool cool cool... But - when will you be back?” The princess asked, her hair still frazzled from the night. Granted, he had woken her up, but really, as the founder and owner of the Hazbin Hotel, she shouldn't sleep in like that – 6 a.m. wasn't that early when you had business to attend.

“Ah, well, my dear, that's the tricky part – I can't say for sure. Could be a day, could be a week – but there's something urgent that needs to be dealt with. So I regrettably cannot postpone this leave of absence.”

“Hold on, shithead.”, Vaggies voice penetrated his ears, rough and deeper than usual. She joined Charlie at the door, and Alastor smirked at the chagrin in her face. “You're supposed to help the hotel. You have obligations here, as much as I hate it, but we don't run on well wishes.”

Alastor tutted at her, his smile never fading. “Well, what better time to make use of our darling (Y/n)? That's what assistants are for, won't you agree? She is more than capable of taking over my workload until I return.”

Vaggie snarled at him, but Charlie put her hand on her shoulder, watching Alastor with a worrisome expression. “Well, I suppose she could, but even so, what about safety? Alastor, if the hotel is in trouble we are...”

“...not without protection. I'll know when things get out of control here, and shall return if my assistance is needed. Does that sound fair?”

The princess and her pet exchanged looks, he could practically hear their wheels turning. Aggravating, those two. He tapped his foot, impatiently.

“Okay then... well, yeah. I guess that works for...”, the blonde girl said at last, slowly and with a lingering hesitancy, but it was enough for him.

“Wonderful, now, I'll take my leave, let you ladies freshen up in peace. Ta-ta!”

He didn't give them time for a retort, his urgency driving him to travel with his shadows rather than by foot. He needed to get away, the sooner the better.

He needed to get a grip.

And that wasn't going to happen around her.

He only stopped when he felt the freezing air of the outskirts of the pride ring. Shadow travel was fast, insanely fast, but traveling this far exhausted even him. When he finally materialized, he was greeted by the peaceful darkness of the void.

The void.

The great nothingness.

Alastor's first memories of hell started with the void, the constant, roaring humm that filled the air after he fell. He didn't know why he returned to the very place he'd begun his afterlife, but he had learned to not question his instincts. At least until some time ago. He stared at the ever growing darkness and felt the pull. No sinner or hellborn had managed to venture into the void, the barrier around the seven rings of hell. Alastor was sure it wasn't possible either way, but his first day in hell were spent listening to it's call while he reformed his body and explored the new, wide set limits of his power. This place felt like an old friend, a retreat where he could clear his mind and level himself, just like the day he died and woke up here.

Alastor had always prided himself to be one of the rare few sinners who landed at the void. Normally, as he learned through his decades in hell, sinners would fall close to bigger cities, near civilization, closer to their peers. He knew that Zestial, one of the more ancient overlords and acquaintance of his also fell at the outskirts of the ring. He normally hated sharing a trait he deemed special, but he respected Zestial too much to be offended.

Now he had time and space to really think. The hotel was too full, full of noisy occupants, full of pestering ears, full of her scent and her confusing energy. He had stayed all through the night, hypnotized by the radiation of her energy she still emitted, even in slumber. And he had struggled, more than he had anticipated, to peel himself from her room came morning, to detach his gaze from her sleeping face, with that unholy smile that he was sole owner of still on slightly parted lips.

The void called him, and he greedily listened to it, using the sounds of the emptiness to calm his accelerating beating heart.

Day 2

He hated that he felt. He hated the fragility of them, their infuriatingly weakening effects they had on the mind. His back started to hurt, so he conjured himself a seat, a round and soft one.

There were feelings he accepted, even welcomed. Joy, for example, in the right context and circumstances, was a rather gratifying feeling he often embraced when he slaughtered his victims. Or danced to a good tune, which happened less than the other. Anger, controlled and in moderation was also useful.

But then there were the crippling ones he detested. Sadness was one of them. He despised the way it made the chest hurt and the mood sink, how it made him long for past days, the days where his mother was alive. But that was something he had always been able to control, trained himself to masterfully surpress to the point where he didn't even have to try.

And the new one he couldn't get a hold on. That strange, new feeling that left him weak, confused and vulnerable, started by a mere touch of gray skin.

Desire. For the first time in his life he felt the need to want somebody . He wanted , and that want drove him to actions he wasn't used to, and the more he got, the more he desired, an endless circle, a cycle he was trapped in. Desire was an abhorrent child of love. Ha. Love. The only love he had ever needed died just months before he became of age. Never again did he feel something like it, nor did he want to. Love was a liability. It easily, naively opened doors that should better remain locked for not to fall prey to predators. And Alastor surely wasn't prey .

But now, there it was. Desire. Infecting him like a common, disgusting virus with no antidote. He desired her. He had to make this conclusion, as much as he wanted to deny it. He just didn't know if he desired her power, or something more.

Day 3

Alastor was hungry. But no food would satiate this feeling of craving. He craved her. No. No, he reminded himself. That was preposterous. He didn't crave her, he hungered for her energy. That one, tiny taste of her power had left him wanting more, had him addicted like the most potent drug. His shadows felt the yearning too, they were restless and swirled agitated around him. Especially one. He had Ozul bound, and his shade let him know how much he hated it. Relentlessly he tugged and pulled and twisted himself, but he knew without Alastor's permission, he wasn't going anywhere. He had become bold, that one. Which was truly unfortunate, since he was the oldest of his shadow companions. The original specter.

He hasn't slept at all. The coolness a refreshing chance from the heat of the city and settling down in his bones. Still, he had yet to have a revelation – his mind fought with him. Hunger fought with him. A longing he needed to be for power, and not... trivialities. Another strong tug made him growl.

“Stop it this instant, you fool.”

Ozul hissed at him. He hissed. Alastor's fury was instant and intense as he forced him back with a yank. It whined and struggled against his grasp.

“m̵̳͋̀ĩ̷̻s̸̡̻͊͘s̵̝̏ ̵̤̻͋̌g̴̢͍͐e̸͎̿̎m̴̖̆.̶̨̅̿ ̸̟̩́̉w̸̬̏à̷̼̎n̸̡͉̈́͝t̷̫̟̂͝ ̷͔͎̄̿t̷̥͑ơ̸̡ ̸̺̤́s̸̛͚͖è̷̳̯͑è̶͖͎ ̸͙̭̀g̴̠͖͌ė̷͈̯m̶̭̭͑.̷̦̐” (miss gem. want to see gem)

“You are acting like an insolent child.”

“y̷̼̓o̸̮̎u̸̯̺͂͂ ̴̘̠̃̎m̸̘͕̅ḭ̴̺̎s̸͚̙̐s̷̬͊ ̷͍͕̈g̴̦̑̊e̴̼̣̽m̶̙̺͑̽.̵̳̿ ̴͙͐̓y̷̢͕̏o̶̲̮͝ủ̴̝ ̵͛̀͜m̴̮̖̐e̴͉̋ ̸̝͇̉̂s̵̠̄ǎ̸̞͕̏m̴̲̪̍̽ȇ̷̛ͅ” (you miss gem. you me same.)

His antlers sprouted like weed as his body exploded with crushing cracks and hurtful rips. The other shadows roared in pain and anxiety, swirling around the feet of their master.

“ɨ ɖօռ'ȶ ʍɨֆֆ ǟռʏȶɦɨռɢ, ɨ ǟʍ ʏօʊʀ ʍǟֆȶɛʀ ʏօʊ աօʀȶɦʟɛֆֆ, աɛǟӄ, ɖɨֆօɮɛɖɨɛռȶ...”(I DON'T MISS ANYTHING; I AM YOUR MASTER YOU WORTHLESS; WEAK; DISOBEDIENT...)

In his rage, he slashed at his own shadow, tearing the ground with every word he spat. Ozul dodged his claws, his teal maw and eyes glowing brightly at him in a grimace of pity. He didn't miss that woman. She was nothing more than a servant. Just another soul he owned. A chip in the long game. A tool to be used. To be exploited. Disposable.

His clawing stopped, his arms heavy and aching. Ozul stared at him, and he stared back.

Disposable.

That word tasted sour and rancid on his tongue. He took heavy breaths, taking in the stinging pain of his elongated limbs that he grew far too quickly.

Disposable.

What would he do if he harnessed her power and she would vanish? Her spirit broken? Her will cease to exist? Why does it even matter? Why does he care? Does he care? Ozul slithered to him, slowly, carefully. Alastor let him creep up his arm and onto his shoulders. He closed his eyes and let visions of Ozul play on his mind. He saw her, dutifully reading what he provided her, sighing now and again. He saw her watching out the window, waving him goodbye as he left his mansion for some errand. He saw her at his doorstep in the middle of the night, a cup of warm milk in hand meant for him. He saw her cold, disgusted glare at Vox's incredulous remarks about him. He saw her hand on his cheek, golden eyes fixed on his as she managed to snap him out of his transformation.

Disposable.

What a wretched word.

Day 4

For the first time since being the radio demon, Alastor truly felt cold. The edges of hell lacked the heat humans so foolishly attributed to the place of eternal damnation. Not that hell wasn't warm. It had it's seasons, and temperatures rarely fell so much as to truly give it's inhabitants a chill.

But he felt freezing. He had thought it would be comforting. Alastor was always warm, like an old cathedral radio that ran for too long, emitting a steady heat, whether he was wearing a coat, a shirt, or nothing at all. But the cold had crept into his innermost being, numbing his body to the point where it hurt to move. But it did not numb his mind. The hum of the void felt no longer serene, but noisy and disturbing. He stared into the void for hours without finishing a thought before the next one began. He felt trapped in his own train of thoughts. A prisoner of his feelings he didn't want. He felt he was failing to manage himself like he used to. And most of all, Alastor felt lonely.

His legs cracked from lack of usage as he stood up. Rosie. He needed to see Rosie. He couldn't be seen like this, by anyone, so he shadowtraveled again, his unstable state making him stumble into a shelf in Rosie's backrooms. He pulled himself upright and sent a shade to get her. Mere seconds later, she was storming through the door.

“What in the world?! Alastor, what happened? You are cold as ice!”

The demoness caught him by his arms, holding his deteriorated form upright.

“I need your help, my friend.”

Rosie only nodded, guiding him to the nearest chair.

“Of course, my dear.”

Day 5

Alastor slept for more than 16 hours. A testament of his friendship with Rosie, that he was able to leave himself this vilnerable in her care. His sleep, however, had been haunted, blurring the lines between reality and fiction, depicting scenes of his life and intertwining them with mementos of her, phasing fast in between horrific, enigmatic and blissfull.

He awoke with a raging headache, the morning sun already turning into full bloom of a mid-day heat. Apparently Rosie had managed to drag him into her personal suite above her emporium, resting him on her biggest chippendale settee. The blanket he was draped in was made out of finest cream cashmere and smelled new and unused. His darling friend really knew him well.

“Oh my stars, you're awake! I almost thought you'd gone into hibernation.”

Rosie entered the room, a tray with a teapot and two cups in her hands. Alastor recognized the green and gold pattern – it was the china he had bought her after his last visit. He quickly sat up, straightening his jacket (which Rosie hadn't removed and he was grateful for).

"I apologize for my unseemly display yesterday, my dearest Rosie.” He waved away the blanket, bringing it up just enough to return his coat to it's intended fold. She took place in a matching seat across from him, her flowing dress and skirts billowing with every movement, and offered him a cup, filling it with deep brown liquid.

He was too exhausted to even ask for a cup of coffee - he somehow had a feeling it wouldn't taste right anyway. But the tea smelled spiced and earthy, which was unusual for his companion, so he decided to trust her judgment and drink it.

They sipped their tea in quietude, but he knew that, just like himself, she had the need to break the silence. He also knew she was carefully, consideringly waiting for him to speak. A feat only she possessed to get out of him things he would otherwise choose to remain untold.

Rosie was another exception, very similar to her . Rosie was his oldest friend, a confidant he didn't expect to have when he became an overlord. Rosie had gained his trust, not by the usual tit-for-tat hellish society loved to practice, but by proving him time and time again, from te very beginning, that she didn't feel the need to use him for anything, instead just enjoying his presence, no strings attached, so to say.

So Alastor spoke, and started to tell his story.

He told her about the night in the Lava lounge, sparing no detail, describing the way she dealt with Vox, the satisfaction he felt watching her on stage. He told her about his percieved solution of her puzzle, what he deducted to be the answer – that she had fallen for him, and his intent to use it to his advantage. He knew she would disapprove of the predicament of invading (Y/n)'s privacy, more so catching her in one of most private moments, but he needed to paint the full picture. He told her about the jeweled copy, how he thought that it would act like a container of her energy just to be proven wrong. That instead, it had guided him to her, and at his touch she had spilled with flowing power like a freshly broken spring, flooding him with it to the point of loosing control over his thoughts and body. How she, miraculously, brought him back through carefully chosen words. That he fled to relieve himself of the overpowering force he was still filled with. How he found himself regretful of the way he harmed her and returned to apologize. About how she instead tried to take the blame, to monopolize the guilt and how he refused her. He told Rosie about her wish for him to keep her company, and that he took her plea to stay the whole night, only to leave before she awoke to get space to sort this whole mess out. When he finally recounted the past four days at the void, the tea in his cup was cold and stale.

Rosie had listened quietly, not once attempting to interject. The tick-tock of the mounted wall clock in the corner of the room marked the ending of an age until she set her teacup down. Alastor swallowed dry, waiting for her assessment. A deep, measured breath left her nose and she leaned back in her seat, her expression seemingly in deep contemplation.

Something else played in those coal dark eyes, and Alastor didn't like it one bit. Was that pity? Was it condescention? Rosie wasn't prone to neither.

“Oh, Alastor...”, she started, shaking her head. “For all the astuteness, intelligence and eloquence you possess, you truly can be a righteous blockhead.”

Alastor's eye twitched.

“While I cannot deny that it seems the little dove has indeed feelings for you – you gravely misinterpreted my little puzzle. I must say, I now come to regret not being any clearer, I feel I took part in the way things escalated to this. “, she sighed with a frown. Then, she looked directly at him, a small, crooked smile on her lips. “But what's done is done. Let's try it again, my dear, and this time, stop denying yourself the path to the true answer – you are better than that. Think, Alastor. Think about what you've told me before answering: What is the protective lie, and what the obvious truth?”

Alastor stared at her.

He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to think it. He didn't want to accept it.

Rosie's smile widened, reading him like a well-known book. The protective lie: That she was just like any other soul he owned. The obvious truth: That she wasn't the only one who fell victim to forbidden feelings.

Day 6

He knew he had to return. The last day was spent in Rosie's company. He knew she had been holding back a lot of things she wanted to say, for the sake of him coming to terms with his uncomfortable new insights. Instead, she gave him space to initiate conversation when he decided to, making herself busy in her apartment. She only told him she closed the shop for the day, and to not worry about missing business, since she could do what the hell she wanted.

In the evening, after a fabulous meal Rosie cooked (serving finest intestines in a hearty stew), she broke her self-imposed silence to ask him

“I don't want to pry, sweetheart, but what do you plan to do?”

Alastor dabbed his mouth with a napkin, removing the last remnants of the tasty demon flesh.

“In all honesty, Rosie, I am at odds.”

Rosie tilted her head at him, her face that of incredulity. “Really, what would be the harm in entertaining the idea that you are fond of a beautiful, talented, devoted girl?”

He remained silent, his wide smile fading into a barely curved line.

“You know as well as I do I am these things are foreign to me, impossible even.”

“And yet you feel something for this girl. You may have never for another, but now, for her, you do, Alastor. Would a parched man in a desert deny himself of drinking when he finds an Oasis?”

Alastor sighed. Rosie was nothing but a true romantic at heart, but he? The concept of fondness, of courting and romance had always abstract and revolting to him. Yes, he felt things for her, but they could be fleeting, a lapse in judgment, a loss of control he was deeply uneasy to sacrifice.

She had dropped the issue, but the question still hung between them as she went to bed.

Now it was morning, and he prepared himself to face her again. That night he decided to keep his distance, to slowly detach himself from the need he felt when it came to her. Knowing her compliance and steadfast determination to please him, she wouldn't question or fight him if he'd dismiss what happened without much explanation.

When he told Rosie, she gave him a disapproving look, sadness in her voice as she told him that he was  a fool and on his best way to hurt her favorite dove deeply. He knew she was right, of course, but he needed to do what he deemed best. It was better this way.

So, he bid her farewell, this time walking the distance from Cannibal Town back to the hotel. He heard Ozul whine and fizz in apparent discontent, but he too, had to accept his masters decision.

He entered the hotel quietly, his cat companion dozing at the bar. What luck, he thought, glad to not be stopped by rude comments or displeasured banter. He made long strides, taking the stairs up to his radio tower. He felt the need for soothing blues. On the third flight of stairs, he almost crashed into Angel Dust who rounded the corner from the other side. The spider jumped at the sight of him, clutching his over-exaggerated breast in overly dramatic shock.

“Jesus Christ on a stick, Al!” Alastor sneered at the cursing demon. “Fuck, popping up like the worlds most haunted jack-in-the-box. 'Ya almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Why, my effeminate fellow, that would only mean you'd have a heart in the first place, how joyous that would be?” He grinned widely at the scowling expression his little remark resulted in. “I'd love to stay and chit-chat, but I have a lot to catch up with.”

He started walking past him, when he heard Angel's muttered response.

“Not much to catch up with, buckboy, since Rocky had to shoulder all your fucking work like the boss-bitch she is. You betta make sure 'ya thank her on 'ya knees.”

He didn't reply, keeping his pace. Yet, he couldn't help but notice how quickly his smile threatened to slip with the reminder of his gem's adversities.

... He had made himself comfortable on the extravagant sofa, pouring himself another glass of whiskey and downing it without the usual enjoyment and moderation. He still felt tense, and the alcohol wasn't working in taking the edge off. A few hours back and he still was cooped up in his broadcasting room, unsure on how to proceed. He was about to pour his third glass when he heard three knocks on the hatch.

Three slightly angry knocks.

He moved to open the door to maybe Vaggie, who always had an excuse to be agitated with him, readying to tell her off, when the faint smell hit him.

Not Vaggie. It was her.

He took a deep breath. Showtime.

With nimble fingers he pulled the hatch open, revealing his beautiful assistant looking up to him with burning eyes like two golden suns. His darling girl. His precious gem.

"Ah, hello, kitten! You look absolutely dashing this morning."

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[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Love language: gift giving

For some reason Lucifer has called you at 7 pm to go for a last second shopping. And for some other reason Solomon decides to tag along

Wc: 1,2k

"Say… what kind of blanket do you want?"

Lucifer sighs " shouldn't you recommend me? We have barely been here for a year"

Lightly giggling you touch some of the blankets in display " I was thinking of what kind of blankets you like"

" Diavolo said he would find a suitable replacement for me, but we should get one if those for mammon" he points towards a brown and gold blanket

" I'm sure he is going to like it, it almost looks like a Grimm" quickly you push one if those inside the shopping cart

Lucifer stops next to a shelf as he looks over a pack, it's a set with a sun and moon twin blankets " Those ones fit the twins don't they?" He only nods

Looking around you see a fluffy pink throw " isn't that the limited influencer Eisheth throw? Do you think asmo will like it?"

He wraps tte pink and fluffy fabric around his glove" As long as it can last a week or so it will make do" he says sternly before turning to see plain color covers

You lean towards one of the patterned blankets, running your fingers through the fine hairs " Can I ask why the sudden need to call me an hour before bedtime to buy blankets?"

Lucifer leans backwards against the wall tiredly " Leviathan decided to hoard all of our bed coverings and lock himself in his room with the threat of summoning lothan" you do catch his eyes drifting towards the section behind you, the demonus and infused beverages.

"Why did he even steal them out of the blue?" You catch Solomon grabbing some pasta and drinks, for some reason he insisted on coming with you

Lucifer lifts his eyebrow, a face between judging and surprise " According to Diavolo, cold-blooded demons go through a nesting phase during the colder months of the year… Now that I think about it, why are you so normal… aren't you a cold blooded demon? You have scales like Levi " points out to your wings filled with small scales

"O-Oh well" you look around, trying to find Solomon to help you out somehow

Solomon hugs your shoulders, leaning against you "Deeeaarr, don't tell me you want that one too?" He points towards your hand, petting the faux devildom beast fur

He sighs dramatically putting it inside his own cart " you are going to make me run out of money at this pace, three blankets and five different pillows and you somehow hoard everything."

As you look inside his cart you find the faux fur and two teddy blankets, one with blue and other purple "You whined about the blankets being too rough for a while now and these are the softest I could find, do they make do?

" Oh, yes thanks" Solomon smiles at you

" Mh, so you are going through that phase…" Lucifer doesn't seem too convinced that you two are being truthful but is too tired to look into it " I do apologize then. I will make sure to only contact you only when necessary for this week"

Solomon looks inside the shopping cart but seems to be confused "Why didn't you buy something for little Satan?" Solomon ask teasingly

He sighs heavily "Is it even worth buying something for Satan? Whenever I get him something he rips it apart"

" Just leave it to us, okay?" He grabs your shoulders " I'm sure we will make do"

Lucifer gives in, not wanting to deal with the subject any longer " alright. I will get going to the manor, Satan will be waiting downstairs for you" as he walks to the demonus aisle

" That is the wrong direction luci~"

" I know sorcerer."

He laughs softly " Well then, do we agree on what to give to Satan?" He looks at you before you two spouter the say sentence

" Cat blanket"

" Kid section?" You ask

" Most likely"

Just as you enter the section the muted and natural colors transition towards vibrant ones, a green blanket with little baby cats walking around greets you as you enter

" Just what we needed" says Solomon as he snatches it,

" Well, let's get going" you turn around to return the other two blankets but you can't see him "Solo?"

"Here, i just saw these" he pops from a display stand, each hand holding a different blanket " and i couldn't just leave them there"

" We don't have to fake any longer sol, lucifer left" you keep walking towards the teddy fabric section, Solomon following you trying to sell them

" But don't you like them? They have sheeps motifs for you and stars and moons for me"

" Wasn't I drying you of your money? Leave them where they were"

You are suddenly stopped when Solomon hugs your chest pushing you against him "but that's fine~ I'm your husband I will buy my lovely spouse whatever they want" and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek

"We are in the middle of a store, Solomon"

" But I love my demon spouse~" he pushes the cart to the cashier and as she starts ringing the objects up you see some objects that catch your eye

" Why did you get a horn humectant? My horns are quite alright"

" Look" His hands move your hair from the base of your horns, as he does he manages to scratch the base and get a white and gray powder " the base is dry, if we don't treat it it will look like you have dandruff" before flicking his fingers to dust the residue off

"... Okay" you keep putting things down, some food, a bottle of demonus and a bottle of human world alcohol, and some snacks it seems. Newt's legs, bat's wings, fire sauce jelly and… " AH!" You gasp

"Mh? What did you find"

" You got hell's slime popsicle?" You grab the handful of lollipops " you remember I like them"

" Of course I did… whenever I talk with you your tongue is green" he rolls his eyes as he

" Don't act as if you didn't like your tongue getting dyed green too," you hug his shoulders as you look towards the cashier "even if you don't like the flavor"

" Thinking it through please leave the lollipops off" he says to the cashier who is trying her best to not laugh

" Solo noooo" You pull on his arm like a little kid annoying their parents to buy sweets. It seems to be working from the vein popping on his neck

He did, in fact, buy your sweets

" Solo?" You asks him as you walk to the house of lamentation

" Yes?" He answers while chewing on the fire sauce jelly

" Thank for the sweets"

" I'm glad you like them" he smiles boyishly, it has been a good while since you saw him so relaxed, one hand on his pocket and the other holding a bag

" Do you want something from the magic shop? I will get you anything " you point to the dimly lit shop but he only laughs and oats your head

" I'm quite happy like this, let's just go home" his free arm slides across your shoulder, pushing you towards him

" But if you wanted to humor me I would like to cook dinner tonight "

"O-Oh there is no need, i will ask for hell's kitchen delivery"

Satan did not get his blanket that night

[crimson-calligraphyx]

Tag List: @cheyfi @kingdomof-omens @daylightlvrs @blade-in-red @ladyveronikawrites @jay02bo @itsmrsfuentes @cncohshit @catj422 @lma1986 @chels3a-smile @kiwi475

A/N: sexual content. Sorry the chapter is lengthy lol.

Even though I was glad that Noah convinced me to see the guys last night, getting up this morning absolutely sucked. I stayed up much longer than I should have, and I was exceptionally fatigued rolling out of bed because of it, but it was worth it. It had been a long time since I've laughed as hard as I had.

I really need it, and it made me realize how much I missed them. It's been what? Two or three months? And they still welcomed me in with open arms, Folio especially, literally picking me up and spinning me around.

That dumbass. I swear his goal in life is to give Noah a brain aneurysm, always getting a rise out of him from his actions, even though it was all in good fun.

I chuckled to myself at the thought as I continued making my way around the bakery, tallying what items were in stock and making notes of what needed to be ordered. Both the flour and sugar were getting low, and I dreaded lifting each 50 lb bag to refill the bins, but it had to be done. With a huff, I put my checklist on the counter and squatted down, positioning the bag in a way it would be easiest for me to lift.

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?" "Jesus fucking Christ!" I about jumped out of my skin hearing Noah's disapproving voice cut through the silence. Straightening up, I placed a hand over my erratic heart and turned to see him standing there with his arms folded over his chest. "No, it's your husband, Noah," he deadpans. I rolled my eyes. "Ha ha, very funny," I puffed out a breath, combing a hand through my bangs. "Seriously though, what are you doing here?"

A smirk breaks through his unusual scowl as he uncrosses his arms and closes the gap between us. "Stopping you from doing what you're not supposed to be doing," he scolds playfully before squatting and lifting the bag of flour with ease. "You know you're not supposed to lift more than 20 pounds, Liv." "It was only for a second—" "I don't care," he laughs incredulously. "Doc said no heavy lifting, so no heavy lifting. Where's this going?" I sighed, motioning my hand towards the bin behind him. "You probably shouldn't be either," I grumbled.

He lays the bag over the bin, shooting me a pointed look. I put my hands up in surrender, knowing the next words out of his mouth were going to be something about how he's not carrying a tiny human, and stepped around him to retrieve a knife. I hand it over to him and he quickly cuts open the bag and empties the contents, crumpling it before tossing it in the trash. He then moves onto the next bag.

"Thank you," I say once he's finished. "I'm sorry, I'm just used to doing this by myself." He gives me a light smile, brushing my bangs back before kissing my forehead. "I know, love, I know. But you gotta let me help you, especially now." I slip my arms around his torso and look up at him with a bashful smile, a blush crawling over my cheeks. "I know. I didn't want to bother you, with your breathing and all." He shakes his head, disregarding me. "Don't. I know my limits, and I'm more than happy to help." He cups my cheek, delicately running his thumb across my still-flushed skin. "Let's finish this up and head back home to relax." "I'm here until noon, though."

He places both hands on my hips and scrunches his mouth to the side, mulling over my statement. "Okay, so we finish this, you finish your shift, and I'll have lunch ready for you. Anything you want. Then we'll relax. How's that sound?" His thumb slides under my shirt and delicately rubs against my side, causing me to wriggle in his grasp from the sensation. "Sounds like a date," I giggled. His dark eyes glistened, crinkling in the outer corners as he smiles at my words, and my heart flutters at the sight. "It's a date," he reiterates, giving my hips a light squeeze. I stand on my toes and give him a quick kiss before returning to the task on hand, trying to fight the warmth swirling in my stomach and the giddy smile from spreading across my face.

Though I hadn't been expecting his help today, I was more than grateful for it as he took care of the freezer, which also involved some heavy lifting. However, my heart sank with concern when he emerged from the walk-in; he was having a full-blown coughing fit, having to brace himself over the 3-base sink. And as usual, he insisted he was fine, but with a heavy eye roll I forced him to sit down and catch his breath while I brewed him a cup of tea.

He took the steaming cup with a sheepish smile, holding it up to his nose and breathing deep. "Thanks, love," he exhales, taking a hesitant sip. He winces when he burns his tongue, swallowing harshly. "Watch out, it's hot," I tease with a wink. "Why don't you head on home after you finish that? We're about done with inventory, and Juliana and Holly will be here any minute now to set up shop." "You sure you don't need anything else from me?" he questions, running a comforting hand down my arm and taking hold of my hand with a squeeze. I squeezed his hand in return with a polite shake of my head, just as the girls make their way in.

"Morning, Liv!" Jules chimes, stopping short when she sees I'm not alone. "Oh, and good morning to you, too, Noah." She grins and puts her belongings on a hook, walking by us to preheat the oven. "Wasn't expecting to see you here. How've you been?" "Not so bad, just helping Liv with inventory. She's a little sluggish this morning," he muses, winking at me, which earns him a light smack on his shoulder from me. "How are you? And Holly?" He leans forward to peer behind me.

Holly quietly greets us, hanging her things up and slipping her apron on, immediately engaging into work mode.

"Don't mind her, she's not a morning person, as ironic as it is for someone who works at a bakery. Especially on inventory day," Juliana murmurs when Noah quirks an eyebrow. "Anyway, I'm good. Keeping busy here." She pulls the muffin trays from under the oven, setting them on the counter with a loud clatter. "You wanna help with some baking?" she jokes. "I already did," Noah says quiet enough so that only I could hear, wagging his brows at me before glancing down at my belly. He snickers when I once again hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"Actually, he was just leaving," I answered for him, pulling him to his feet. "But I haven't finished my tea," he feigns a whine, only to laugh when I shot daggers at him. "Alright, alright, I'm going. I'll see you at home for lunch. Be good." My cheeks burn hot, hoping they wouldn't question what he meant by 'be good'. "Noah," I hiss his name, beginning to push him towards the exit. "That's enough out of you." He snorts, finally walking towards the back door with me in tow. "What? I just want you to have a good day, that's all." There's a tone in his voice, and I know he's trying not to laugh.

I fold my arms over my chest when we're out of sight, glowering at him, unamused. "Not funny. You know I don't want anyone to know yet." "Relax, they're not gonna know you're pregnant just because I told you to be good," he rolls his eyes. "Anyways," he sighs, "I'll see you at home. Relax and try to have a good day, okay?" I mutter a quick 'okay', and he flashes me a small smile after kissing me goodbye.

When I returned to the kitchen, Juliana was working away at getting the muffins baked, pouring the batter that Holly had prepared into the tins. She glances up at me when she senses my presence and smirks—my stomach churns uncomfortably. She knows.

She doesn't say anything though, just carries on with baking, that devious curl never leaving her lips, and I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. I shake my head at myself and take a deep breath, picking up the checklist, hoping to settle my nerves by distracting myself with finishing inventory.

"It's nice to see you happy," Juliana says as I hear her open the oven doors, the whoosh of the fans blowing out a gust of heat. "Hm?" I quirk a brow, peeling my eyes away from my list. My heart jumps to my throat when I see that smug grin on her face again. "I said it's nice to see you happy. It's been a while since I've seen you smile like that." She states, placing one of the muffin tins on a rack. I furrow my brows. "Like what?" "He teases you and you get flustered, then you have this goofy smile on your face that I know you're trying to hide. It's cute; you guys are cute."

Scarlet crosses over my cheeks once again and I breathe out a quick 'Oh'—that's what that smirk was about earlier.

"Like that," she laughs, putting the last muffin tin in and shutting the oven doors. I hadn't even noticed I had been grinning at her words. "Yeah, well..." Clearing my throat, I avert my eyes to my checklist with a bashful chuckle. "Honestly, things weren't great between me and Noah for a while there, and I thought I lost him." I admit, having never told the girls why I hadn't been quite myself the last few months. "Recently, things have been getting better, and as silly as it sounds, I feel like I'm crushing on my husband all over again." "It's not silly, Liv." She turns to me after setting the timer on the oven, a genuine smile on her face. "It's a good thing. Whatever you thought you had lost was never really lost, it just got a little buried. You just had to do some digging, is all."

There's a warmth that swirls in my stomach, and spreads to my chest as I think about how much things have turned around as of late; how much effort Noah has put into mending what had been damaged.

I pushed him away, and I was the reason he developed that godforsaken disease, yet he still came running to my side when I needed him—after a fucking month of not speaking to one another. He was suffering, barely able to breathe, but he still did what he could to support me no matter how hard it was for him.

Coming to my appointments, running to the store to get me necessities when I asked him not to, showing up here at the bakery to make sure I wasn't doing anything over strenuous, and helping me because he knew that I would.

Now, every time I lay eyes on him, there's this pang of remorse knowing what I've been putting him through—but it always gets swarmed and consumed by the butterflies coming to life inside of me as soon as I see that grin on his face. His dark irises seem to light up with adoration as he smiles down at me, and I swear there's a surge of electricity between us whenever he places a gentle hand on me.

This was how it was when this all began; we're so close to getting back to what we were—I can almost taste it.

-

Rushing through the front door due to the unexpected rain, I cursed at myself for not having at least a hooded jacket for my walk home from the bakery. That, and never thinking to check the damn weather before going into work.

With a huff, I placed my belongings down just as Noah makes his way around the corner to meet me at the entryway. "What happened to you?" he chuckles, turning to head down the hall and returning with a towel. "I didn't know it was supposed to rain," I whined, starting to walk towards our bedroom and stopping when I took note of the living room.

The sectional was set up in a way where we could comfortably lie down with the back and armrests bordering us, a large blanket fanned out over the cushions. The lights were set low, the LEDs casting an amber glow against the far wall behind the TV—which was displaying a view of a sunrise at the beach, turquoise waves slowly rolling over the sand and back.

Noah drapes the towel over my shoulders and I turn towards him as he wraps it over the front of me. I take hold of it and clutch it to my chest, smiling up at him. "What is all this?" He shrugs, fighting back a proud smile while rubbing my upper arms to spread some warmth across my chilled skin. "Well, I wanted to take you down to the beach but as you can see, it's raining." He humors with a light laugh, and I roll my eyes. "So, I did what I could to bring the beach to you."

My heart swells at the thoughtfulness, tears immediately springing to my eyes. "You're too much," I say as my lips tremble, and he doesn't waste a second to stop them by kissing me. I melt into him, warmth radiating through my whole body as our lips sync together, practically leaving me breathless. We break apart slightly, our mouths open, both of us breathing in to get an ample amount of air before crashing together again.

I can taste the salt from my tears against his lips while his hand cups my cheek, brushing them away with his thumb. He smiles into our kiss, a chuckle vibrating against my lips. "Stop crying," he whispers. I giggle and pull away, sniffling while wiping the remaining tears away. "I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting this." "All I did was move the couch and put a YouTube video of the ocean up," he laughs. "It's really not all that much." "Maybe to you, but you know the sunrise holds a special meaning to me."

He brandishes a gentle smile, eyelids hooded as he stares down at me with candor heavy in his eyes. "I know," he runs a hand down the length of my damp hair. "Let's get you changed into some dry clothes and have some lunch. I had sushi delivered right before you got home—" "I can't have sushi, Noah," I frowned. "Raw sushi. I did a little research; everything I got is cooked and low in mercury content." I sighed, grinning. "You are the best."

I trotted to our bedroom and stripped of my damp clothes, draping them over the side of the tub to dry, and stepped into some sweats and one of Noah's hoodies. Knowing my hair would dry in a frizzy mess, I quickly blow-dried it before meeting him back in the living room where he set the sushi and an arrangement of snacks out on the coffee table.

We each grabbed a plate and a pair of chopsticks, choosing what we wanted before settling onto the sectional, sitting with our legs folded in. There was a comfortable silence between us as we ate, the only sounds being the gentle waves and the occasional call of a seagull playing through the surround sound.

I finished my plate first and put it off to the side, resting my head against Noah's shoulder with a smile of contentment. He finishes his food shortly after and wrapped his arm over my shoulders, hugging me close to him. We instinctively unfold our legs and lay back; my head was now on his chest, my leg and arm draped over his body as I snuggled up close to the heat radiating from him.

My eyes flutter shut as he rubs my shoulder, and I couldn't help the grin from spreading across my face. I haven't felt so comfortable, so peaceful and at home, so...complete in far too long, and I owed it all to Noah.

As I laid here in his arms, listening to the calming sounds of the ocean and his deep breathing, I was brought back to the very first time I saw the sunrise. Hues of pink, orange, and yellow erupting from the horizon of cobalt, cascading skyward into baby blue. So beautiful, so mesmerizing, and I knew it would be devastating if I couldn't witness it anymore.

I picked my head up from Noah's shoulder, gazing at the peaceful expression on his face—eyes closed, his lips curled in the tiniest smile as he ever-so-slightly moved his head side to side, most likely to a tune in his head. His expression changes, turning to that of surprise when the next three words flew out of my mouth: "I love you."

He slowly opens his eyes, chocolate irises locking with my blues while his lips part to say something, but nothing comes out. He reaches out and delicately trails his fingertips down my face and to my chin, his thumb brushing over my lips. He still doesn't say anything, just caresses my face as if he expected me to dissolve into thin air at any second.

"What?" I whispered, my stomach churning anxiously. He shakes his head lightly, and my nerves melt away when I watched a smile break across his face. "I just... I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that again." "Oh," I mumbled with shame, dropping my gaze from him. He shifts so he's on his side now, and picks my head up by my chin. "I love you too, Olivia." I can see the tears glossing over his eyes, but he blinks them away and crashes his lips to mine. "So much," he says against them, never fully breaking our kiss.

Desire quickly flares inside of me; he suddenly wasn't close enough. I fist his shirt and roll onto my back, pulling him down with me as one of my legs settle over his hip. Our teeth clack together, and he pulls away slightly to laugh. "Guess these pregnancy hormones give you super strength, huh?" I breathed out a laugh. "I guess so. Now shut up and kiss me." He shakes his head with a snort, "Yes, ma'am."

I lace my fingers into his hair as we reconnect, holding him close to me, and in that moment, I'm flooded in all the ways I missed him. I felt starved. As if he could sense it, his tongue lashes out, gliding against my bottom lip, and I meet his with mine—tongues twisting and turning, relishing the familiarity of each other that we both had been longing for.

He ground his hips into me, and I can feel his growing erection through my sweats, pressing against my inner thigh. Heat begins to pool low within me, just thinking about the way his cock would feel gradually filling me, stretching me in the way my body so desperately needed.

More. I needed more.

He groans when I give his hair a light tug and roll my hips up towards him, wanting to satisfy the dull ache between my legs. I do it again when he doesn't quite get the hint; this time he moves, and a chill runs down my spine when his lips reach my jaw, the stubble that he had growing in rubbing against my skin. He peppers my neck with feather-light kisses, his teeth grazing along the way, and stopping to nip right below my ear. His breath cascades across my neck in a quiet laugh when he hears the mewl I let out.

"Is this what you want, love?" His voice was so low, I almost moaned simply from the seduction laced in his tone. "Yes," I whispered, clawing my nails against his scalp once more. He hums, slipping his large hand underneath the hoodie I was wearing and trailing his fingertips up my side. My skin prickles and my nipples harden just before he palms my breast, rolling his thumb over the pert bud. "No bra?" "They're sore; figured I'd be staying in, so why wear one?" "Makes sense," he concurs, running the tip of his nose up the side of my neck and to my jaw, promptly giving me a quick kiss. "Maybe I can help with that?"

His dark eyes glimmer with lust, and there's a smirk spreading across his lips that makes my core throb, wishing his face were between my legs instead. All I do is nod, both of us shifting to remove my top. He throws it behind the couch before he cups my breasts with hesitancy, delicately kneading the tender area, waiting to see if I'll stop him. I allow him to massage them for a brief moment, but he stops when he senses my discomfort. They were just too sore right now.

He whispers an apology, laying gentle kisses on the swell of my breasts before making his way down my belly. My stomach swirls with arousal and my chest heaves, anticipating his touch; all I could do was stare down at him as he halts at my waistband, peering up at me with hunger. His fingers grasp the top of my sweats, eyes begging me for access as he reluctantly waits for the go-ahead.

I lift my hips and assist him with shimmying my bottoms down my legs; he takes his time removing them, palming my right thigh with a firm squeeze. He continues caressing down my leg with both his hands and lips before doing the same to my left. "No panties either?" he muses while still holding my leg and places a kiss to the inside of my ankle. I bite my lip with a giggle, shaking my head 'no'. "Just the way I like it," he winks, beginning to trail his lips up my calf.

The further up my leg he went, the more he lowered himself against the couch until he was nearly flat, face level with the apex of my thighs. I see the hunger in his eyes when they flicker to my slick folds and back up, a smirk tugging at his mouth. He doesn't break eye contact as he slowly lowers his face down and teases me by kissing over my mound, up and across to each hip bone, and settling his mouth against my tiny bump.

"You're so beautiful, in every way,” he whispers, kissing my belly again. "Every bit of you. Your smile, your laugh." Kiss. "Your bubbly personality." Kiss. "Your soft skin, your growing bump." Kiss. "The way you say my name. The sounds you make." Kiss. "And even the way you taste," he licks his lips, and I clench around nothing, dying for him to touch me. "Noah," I breathed out. "Please." "Mmm, like that," he hums, placing his hands on the back of my thighs, holding me to him as he finally reaches where I needed him to be.

I take a sharp breath in when he licks a stripe through my folds, my hips bucking forward when his tongue lands on my clit. He hums—I can’t tell if it was in amusement of my reactions, or a groan of satisfaction as he damn near devours me like this was his last meal on earth—and the vibration coasts through my core, forcing a moan out of me.

I fist his hair; his fingertips dig into my thighs as he groans again, his tongue methodically running through my folds. He was so meticulous with his actions, knowing the way my body would respond to each and every flick of his tongue, and he had me chasing that high. My hips roll towards his face, and he takes my clit into his mouth, my stomach tightening as he sucks.

My senses are so heightened, I come undone within seconds, stars shooting behind my eyelids as I squeeze them shut and moan out his name. My body trembles and my back arches, my nails dig deeper into his scalp as his tongue relentlessly pulls me through my climax.

“Wow, I didn’t even need to use my fingers,” he muses with a smirk plastered on his face, his lips glistening with my slick. I try to think of a witty comeback, but I can’t. All I can do is shake my head at him, focusing on coming back down to earth, and trying to regain the breath he knocked out of me.

He clambers on top of me, and my hands instinctively find their way under the back of his shirt as he plants his mouth on mine in a heated kiss—I can taste myself when I take hold of his bottom lip with my teeth. He moans and I chuckle, now scratching my nails down his toned back.

“Christ, Olivia,” he mumbles, pulling away to look down at me; his breathing is labored, his lips now plump. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” “I don’t?” I quirked an eyebrow, digging my nails further into his back. His muscles flex under my fingertips, and I giggle when he bites back a groan as his dick twitches against my leg. He shakes his head incredulously, his dark bangs shifting and blanketing his face. “Maybe you do.” “Maybe I do,” I shrug, watching his eyes grow dark with desire. “I want to fuck you so badly, Olivia,” he growls. “Then do it,” I say, removing my hands from under his shirt.

He sits up, pulling his shirt over his head, and tosses it to the floor. I watch his chest heave as his hands clumsily unfasten his belt and unzip his fly—was he nervous, or overly eager? He slowly pulls his jeans down, along with his boxers, and his cock springs loose, slapping against his belly. He takes hold of himself, gliding his hand up his shaft, and I swear my mouth watered when I saw the precum glistening as he rolled his palm over the tip, spreading it back down his length.

Christ, Olivia. What has gotten into you?

He settles himself between my legs but hesitates, his eyes searching mine as he places a delicate hand on my cheek. He swallows harshly, “I don’t… am I going to hurt you or—” I giggled at his concern. “You’re not gonna hurt me or the baby, I promise,” I reassured him, combing his bangs back with my hand and giving his head a light scratch. “Are you sure?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure. The baby’s not gonna come out with a dent in its head from your dick, Noah,” I chuckled. “What if—” “So help me God, Noah, if you don’t put your dick in me in the next ten seconds, you’re gonna have a dent in your head.” I hooked my leg over his hip, hoping to urge him on. He shakes his head and laughs lightly. “So assertive.”

In one swift movement, he slowly enters me, and we both moan out in unison. He rests his forehead against my collarbone, a staggering breath caressing my skin as he rolls his hips away. “Fuck,” he sighs, “I almost forgot how good you feel.” My hands smooth up his back, one hand tangling into his hair, and he picks his head up to look at me with a sheepish grin. “Me too,” I breathed a laugh, pushing my hips towards him. “Keep going. Please.” “As you wish.” He ruts his hips into me, an impish smile on his face. He was still hesitant; I could tell with each attentive thrust into me, and as good as it felt, I needed more.

My heel presses into the small of his back, and I began to run my nails against his tattooed skin. His eyes flutter shut, a light moan slipping past his lips as he continued his languid pace. “Noah,” he looks at me when I say his name. “Don’t hold back. Show me what you forgot, show me how much you missed me.” He chuckles, and it’s like a switch flipped inside of his head, his eyes burning into mine with a sudden darkness. “Fuck, Olivia. You’re really going to be the death of me.”

I don’t have time to say anything or even laugh; his lips are on mine in an instant, his hips snapping into mine with fervor. My fingers tighten, digging into him further as a moan escapes me, and he takes that to his advantage, shoving his tongue in my mouth. Our kiss was sloppy, influenced by desire, hunger, need. But I didn’t care, everything in this moment felt so right, so satisfying as his cock hit me in all the right ways. My body was buzzing with euphoria as I drank him in and savored the feeling of him encasing me, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

He suddenly pulls away from me, and I whimper from the emptiness. With a growl, he sits up and repositions me with my legs resting on his shoulders. I cry out when he thrusts back into me, hitting me at a different angle that would undeniably tip me over the edge. My back arches when there’s pressure on my clit—it took me a second to realize his thumb was rubbing against me.

Sweat was beading across his forehead as his eyes locked with mine, and the fire burning behind his irises was my downfall. My walls clenched around his length, and I swear I was levitating as my chest rose under his control, my body quaking while he coaxed the orgasm out of me.

My legs slip off his shoulders, and once again he repositions me so that I’m on his lap. He holds me close to him, his large hand supporting me at the small of my back as he continues to thrust deep inside of me. I can’t move; my head lols back and I feel his lips against my throat, peppering sloppy kisses until he bites down below my jaw. His moan vibrates down my jugular, and I feel the warmth of his breath as he pants through his nose.

He gently lies me back down against the couch, his body collapsing on top of mine while he slips out of me. We're panting together in fucked out bliss and my hands find his hair again, raking my fingers through his sweat stained locks. He hums, pressing a kiss on my collarbone before rolling off me. He scoops me on top of him, my leg settling over his torso and my hand lands on his cheek. I run my thumb over his flushed skin and he once again hums and presses a kiss into my hair.

“Did we just have sex on the beach?” I mumbled, a tiny grin on my face. He snorts, and I know he’s shaking his head at me without having to look at him. “If that’s what you want to believe, then sure, love.” I giggled, picking my head up to look at him. He looks at me with adoration, a tired smile gracing his lips as he ran his hand through my hair. “You’re cute. Lie back down, let’s take a nap. It’s been a long morning.” I do as he says after giving him a kiss, settling against his chest.

His chest rising and falling slowly relaxes me, and I notice one thing as his steady heartbeat begins to lull me to sleep: he wasn’t wheezing. Not even in the slightest.

|Chapter 20|

[blackbird-brewster]

Not that anyone asked, but here are a few things that truly freed me as a writer and ultimately made my writing so much better:

I started writing for myself. Truly writing for myself, not the 'I write for myself' mantra I'd parrot to people while internally still writing with the mindset of 'this is what readers want to see happen'. That shift really happened when I began writing for a rare pair which previously only had two fics to their tag on AO3. By posting in such a small tag, I was instantly freed from constantly comparing myself and my fics to everyone else. I went from 'this is what readers want, even if it's not necessarily what I want to happen' to 'this is what I want and it's great if other people enjoy it too'.

I let go of the rigid set of arbitrary rules I'd always applied to my writing. The main one was the rule that any chapters/one-shots shouldn't be longer than 3500 words in length. When I started letting myself write until the chapter/one-shot was done, regardless of length it added so much more to my writing, because I wasn't limiting myself to try and tell every story within the same set of word count parameters. Suddenly, I was writing fics that were two, three, or even four times the length of my previously published works and they were infinitely better overall because I was able to fully explore characterisation and plot.

I really let myself get a bit weird in style. I've always written fanfic from third person, past tense as a personal preference. But I started experimenting with other things: a fic where half of the story is written in flashbacks (my favourite fic I've ever written), a fic that's stream of consciousness and mostly freeform (my most well regarded fic by readers), a fic that used transcripts from canon as a way to misdirect the reader until the ending reveals a major twist (readers were so (affectionately) shocked by the ending). While I still mostly write in third person, past tense, the above fics have forever bettered me as a writer.

I stopped obsessing about stats. I used to spend so much time on the stats page of AO3, constantly comparing my fics to other people's. I used to worry myself into a panic spiral by constantly wondering why similar fics by other people had so many more hits/kudos/comments than my works. When I finally stopped checking stats nonstop, I began to truly accept that numbers aren't important. There will always be authors/fics that are more popular than me and that's okay. I realised by constantly thinking 'why don't I have more X' I was subtly turning my nose up to all of the readers who do love my work. I was saying 'You're not enough, I need more' and that wasn't fair to both me and my readers! Now, I don't worry about numbers and instead cherish every single person who reads/kudos/comments on my fics.

None of this is to say I don't ever fret over stats or whether or not readers will like what I write -- but shifting my perspectives and letting go of arbitrary self-enforced rules didn't only make my writing better, but it's also improved the way I approach writing in general, and it's also improved my overall mental health.

[lu-lus-dicks]

Hi, here's about me and some questions you might have!

Updated: april 26th 2024

MINORS DNI please

Important!! Please don't use real money to do things for me in any capacity. It makes me uneasy, uncomfortable and puts a lot of pressure on me. Thank you for your understanding <3 also Important: I can not and will not take anything seriously, if you want to say something serious to me, send me a DM, I'm more likely to respond seriously there

Who are you?

@ nunalastor's emotional support white boy™

People just call me lulu on here. I'm 20 and go by any pronouns. AFAB (and cis). my gender is whatever makes you gay. somewhere on the ace spectrum.

Also CEO of forcing people to get some fucking sleep!

important note: I respond in the horniest ways to @ nunalastorscursedkitten, but they have explicitly stated they don't want sexual stuff directed towards them without their consent. I have confirmed that they are okay with me responding in a horny way and you should make sure before doing it too

tags (will not sort these out at all):

who is safe here?

lulu is delulu - my posts

babygirl anon fest - asks specifically from babygirl

revoke lulu's art license - my art stuff

nunwhiskers - the ship of nunalastor x huskers-bar

lulu is feral - reblogs where I am feral

lulus nun reblogs - I just tend to reblog everything of nunalastors so it's a tag now

lulu reblogs - art/theories/incorrect quotes ect

lulu convos - me interracting with peeps here

lulu crooks - going into detail about things i shouldn't be going into detail of. (maybe infodumping)

cursed polycule - me and the 100+ husbands/wives interracting (xxx-angie list in their pinned)

lulu asks - me answering asks

this is a nunalastor simp blog - anytime I openly bark for nunalastor

lulu lore - me accidentally dropping irl lulu lore

lulu fun facts - exactly what it says

lulu polls - polls

lulu is a boomer - me not knowing basic pop culture things cuz I live under a rock

lulu loves nunalastorscursedkitten / and paincaat too / lulu loves paincaat / and nunalastorscursedkitten too - my interractions with @ paincaat / @ nunalastorscursedkitten

lulu loves getting called slurs - me getting called the f-word

lulu infodumps - infodumps about stuff that might not always be hazbin hotel

fools being sexy - @ the-aprilfools-bitch tag

everyone except minors. I don't judge. This is a safe space regardless of race, gender, sexuality or anything else. Be as cringe/not cringe as you want

What is this blog?

Used to be a hazbin blog, now turned to me simping for daddy nunalastor and interracting with the cursed polycule

What can I ask or share with you?

Literally anything you want to share, no limits. I respond to everything, even hate so if I haven't responded I'm either asleep or the message didn't appear in my inbox.

One thing I don't respond to is chain sends cuz I can't be bothered with that shit. Anything else is a yes

What's with the bad English?

English is my second language. I pride myself on being able to read it fluently, but I might have problems with talking in a way that flows naturally to native speakers. So sorry bout that

What time are you active?

Honestly, all over the place. Don't look too much into it, but I'm from the country of Georgia if that helps

Can I use your ideas?

Absolutely! You don't even need to ask. I won't say this is a necessity, but If you decide to use them, I'd love it if you'd tag me. I love seeing all kinds of things people make and I'd love to see yours too!

Why are you so unhinged and sexual? Aren't you ace?

Asexuals aren't all sex-repulssed and can enjoy it too. I am uncomfy with the act of sex but I love joking and shitting about it. Me saying something is hot/sexy/makes my dick hard is just me saying "I love this and i think it's cool" when that isn't enough to express my love. (I think I'm being funny)

Is the art on nunalastor's blog you sometimes repost yours?

Yes, the art posted on their asks by mylz-flick is by me. It's my primary blog and i don't use it for anything so all my asks are submitted through there

Why don't you post as often anymore?

Because all my posts go straight to nunalastor's blog. Go check them out, it's great

By nunalastor s request:

Who hurt you?

Nunalastor did when they rizzed up my mom

What's with the worms? That's disgusting

Well, nunalastor made this post and it turned me on a little ngl

What is the cursed polycule?

Well, I spontaneously decided that my go to funny (not funny) joke would be to start asking everyone who agreed with me or had similar tastes to kiss me. Long story short, now I'm a whore™ with 100+ husbands that I can't keep track of and that's the cursed polycule

Why do you keep calling nunalastor daddy?

Many reasons. First, Nunalastor saying they would fuck my mom in the DMs when I told them about her. So naturally, if my mom and nunalastor got married they would be the dad hence, daddy. Also, nunalastor is unapologetically my favourite blog on here and the title "daddy" is reserved for them. Also their word is law to me and they deserve the respectful title

The way you interract with minors is disgusting

I have minors please don't interract in my bio for a reason. I expect a decent human being to see that and kindly leave my blog. I don't check who I'm responding to most of the time so I probably didn't even notice it was a minor. I'm just trying to be fun.

If you are a minor and I responded/reblogged your art or post with some batshit crazy shenanigans like I do with everyone, send me a DM and I'll delete it. I'd rather it be in the DMs instead of out in public because out here I have people acting like they hate me and I don't want to accidentally take something that's meant to be a serious request to stop like a joke.

What's with that one pregnant anon stuff at nunalastors blog?

Listen, I don't care what shit people send me, but if you even dare harm, harass or just in general be an asshole to the ones I consider nice people, I will not take that lightly.

To everyone: if you get haters, tag me so I can draw them pregnant.

Is the cursed polycule an actual relationship or just a joke?

It's just a joke between us.

Can I join the polycule?

Daddy has revoked my marriage license so you'll have to consult with the other members. I take what daddy demands very seriously

You can however, talk to the other members of the polycule and join. We could also have a platonic relationship going on in the polycule if you want

What is up with you and pronouns?

Sorry, in my native language there are no gendered pronouns. We just have a singular he/she/they for everyone. I use he/him for me (despite being a woman) because it's what rolls off the tongue easier for me. For everyone else I use they/them because you can never go wrong with neutral.

Are you actually attracted to nunalastor?

Why do you keep mentioning nunalastor calling you the f-word?

No. It's me and paincaat my beloved. They say gay shit to me and I find that hot

Because I genuinely /gen /srs loved it. This isn't a joke. It made me overstimmed and honestly was a little overwhelmed with giddiness. keep in mind though, that while I enjoy getting called the slur, I will not be calling anyone that because that makes me uncomfy.

why haven't you responded to my reblog/comment/ask?

I generally respond to everyone I can. but either it was

lost in my notifs

was posted by a minor and I don't want to attract minors here

If it was on a reblog of something, I assumed it was meant for op

I just couldn't think of anything to respond with (which is rare)

feel free to let me know if it was either 1 or 3 but I won't respond to minors

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I just got done with a fic where I missed a tag and I’m trying to figure out how I feel about it. The tag was dyslexic blackbeard/ed. There’s been so much discourse about Ed’s literacy. Which I don’t understand because we’re shown examples of him reading so idk why it’s a thing people think. So I tend to get easily triggered when he’s made to look like he can’t read or has trouble with reading. I know plenty of people have reading issues like dyslexia but to give it to Ed what with all the discourse? I’m curious as to what your thoughts are about this.

Man I honestly just think it really really really depends, y'know? There are two things that I think can be true here at once:

Fiction can reveal a lot about unconscious biases and racism in fandom spaces, and the way Ed's literacy has been discussed and there's so many fics about him having to learn to read even though he's clearly shown reading on screen in s1e5 is a prime example of that

Fanfic is also a great and cathartic way to put characters in situations as a way for the author to express themselves and explore their personal struggles in a safe space

I'm not gonna come out here and say things like "don't write Ed with your specific learning disability." But, at the same time, I think white authors especially really should consider how they write characters of color with relation to things like dyslexia.

The simple fact of the matter is that learning disabilities and neurodivergence are always going to be different when you're not white. Like, I have autism and ADHD and I don't have dyslexia but I have dyscalculia, which is kinda similar (think dyslexia but for numbers). Brown kids with learning disabilities are always going to be on a different playing field and we're going to have a different set of struggles with diagnosis, relationship to our disability, etc. than white kids. For example, Ed's more likely to be undiagnosed, to face disciplinary action in school for things he can't help related to his disability, and be labeled as "defiant" for struggling.

I'm never going to tell someone with ADHD, say, that they shouldn't write Ed as ADHD to explore that, but I do think authors should be mindful of how race factors in here. Like, even though one of my ADHD symptoms can be trouble keeping my space organized, I'm not going to give that to Ed because I worry it would fall too much in line with tropes about brown people being messy or unclean and Ed's always shown to prefer a clean, tidy space in the show.

I don't think, even given the discourse about Ed's literacy, there should be a hard limit here. I don't think we should automatically write off stories where Ed has dyslexia, because I could see them being done amazingly well by authors who have experience with that disability and who have considered how Ed's race will interact with his experiences. A fic where Ed's had to work ten times as hard and now he's a best-selling author, for example? Sign me the hell up!

Tl;dr: it depends? I don't think we should ever say "you CAN'T write about this character with this disability," but I also think that when writing about characters of color with disabilities, there's a responsibility to approach the topic with care, tact, and dignity.

[cookies-and-music]

Ghost. - part 16: Carousel

My suggestion for this chapter is, of course, Carousel by Melanie Martinez, it's a totally different topic but it somehow sunded right.

Part 1 here - part 17 will be published on Sunday

PAIRING: TVA!LokixOC

TAG LIST: @kats72 ; @mischief2sarawr ; @m3ntally-unstable

SUMMARY: Loki meets sombody at the TVA he once knew. Unfortunately she doesn't seem to remember him.

"A retirement home?" Lydia wrinkled her nose.

"The retirement home," Mobius specified, "the one where Loki placed Odin in order to take over Asgard."

"Oh," Loki's past certainly didn't make the mission to save him simple "Maybe we shouldn't mention Loki to him."

"Nope" Mobius shook his head.

They entered the white structure and asked the lady at the front desk to see Mr. Borrson. She looked at them surprised.

"Are you family?"

"No, is that a problem?" asked Mobius.

"No, it's just that he's been here for a while and no one has come to visit him," she shrugged, handing them badges labeled visitor "Wear these and come with me."

She led them through the facility to what looked more like a communal space for prisoners rather than a recreational room.

"Mr. Borrson, there are some people here to see you," the woman briefly touched his shoulder.

Odin turned towards the two visitors who were waving at him with slightly embarrassed smiles. He smiled at the nurse, which she took as a sign to leave, and she walked away, leaving them alone.

"May we sit?" Mobius asked, indicating the sofa next to the armchair where he was seated.

"Certainly," he nodded.

Lydia sat between them. She hadn't formed a clear idea of what to expect when meeting the father of the gods, but she certainly hadn't expected such an… ordinary old man. Wearing a plaid shirt tucked into brown pants held up by a worn-out belt.

"My name is Mobius and this is my colleague Lydia."

"And tell me, do I know you?"

"No, unfortunately not," Mobius shook his head, "but we know who you are, and we are truly honored to meet you."

"And who am I?" He asked, raising his thick eyebrows.

"Well, we know who you really are" Mobius smiled slyly.

"And who am I, really?" Odin smiled again.

"Mr. Borrson, we know that you are actually Odin, father of all gods and king of everything else," Lydia's limited patience had already run out "We need your help with a matter of utmost importance and would like to ask you some questions, if you permit."

Odin furrowed his brows and squinted his remaining eye. "I think you have the wrong person."

"No, we don't have the wrong person" Lydia clenched her jaw.

"Trust me, dear, you do. I don't know who you're looking for, but I don't know you, and if you knew me, you'd know I spent my life as a judge, not a king, and certainly I have no children," he shrugged "I'm senile, but that much I remember well."

"Damn" Lydia widened her eyes before closing them, covering her eyes with one hand. "He's right."

"He's had his memory wiped," Mobius sighed next to her, shaking his head. "How could we forget that?"

"Fucking Loki, even from the afterlife he makes my life impossible," Lydia stood up, starting to pace around the sofas.

"Loki is dead?"

"No, but it's like – HEY!" Lydia stopped, gripping the sofa tightly. "You lied!"

"Well, did you expect me to reveal my identity to two strangers?" Odin adjusted himself in the armchair, sarcastically laughing. "If you know my son, you should have started with that."

"Wasn't Loki's spell supposed to enchant you?" Mobius furrowed his brows, leaning towards him.

"Loki is as skilled as his mother, but I am still Odin," he clasped his hands over his round belly "now tell me, what has happened to my son?"

"Nothing," Mobius shook his head "Just a small matter, really."

"Really? Because she just said he's dead" Odin pointed to Lydia, who was still standing behind Mobius.

"Well… he's not exactly dead" She exchanged a look with Mobius. "Would you prefer him to be alive or dead?" Lydia gave a weak smile.

"Come on, young lady, we're talking about my son."

The one who had scrambled his mind and parked him in a retirement home...

"Exactly" Lydia shrugged.

"Alive" he specified.

"Perfect, because he is!" Mobius clasped his hands in front of him. "He's just trapped, so to speak, in a prison he himself created. If we break the prison, we die; if we leave him there-"

"For him, it's worse than death," Lydia crossed her arms from her position. "Moreover, that prison is practically Yggdrasil."

"And this is where you come in," Mobius smiled at Odin. "We know that you know everything about the tree, and if there's a way to free him maybe-"

"You shouldn't," Odin shook his head.

"What? Why?" Lydia straightened up.

"Because if he did it, it's his choice. My son is not stupid, but he puts himself and power above all else; he's ambitious and selfish."

"How can you say such a thing?" she snapped "Sure, he's made mistakes, but the reason he condemned himself to an existence of solitude is to save us, to save him," she waved a finger as she continued listing "me, our friends, and the entire universe, including you."

Mobius ran a hand over his face, pressing his fingers against his eyes. "Lydia…" he sighed.

"What? Am I wrong?"

"Just breathe."

Lydia stopped, realizing she had lost her temper again, and took a trembling breath to calm herself.

"We know this is the person you know, Odin, but we have known someone very different, who has learned from his mistakes and tried to be better enough to be loved by those around him, to have friends." Mobius spoke calmly "So please help us, we are begging you" Mobius glanced at Lydia, who kept her head down.

Odin crossed his arms, looking from one to the other.

"Very well," he sighed. "Ask your questions, but you might not get the answers you desire."

Lydia raised her gaze to Mobius, who nodded, then she sat back down on the sofa, this time positioning herself between her collegue and the armrest.

"Is there a way to destroy Yggdrasil without causing a Ragnarok?" Mobius began.

"No," Odin replied curtly.

"And what about a way to get Loki out of there without destroying Yggdrasil?"

"No," Odin shook his head again.

"He's not cooperating," Lydia extended a hand before letting it fall loudly onto her leg "We're wasting time, again."

"Lydia," Mobius turned to her with a more severe look "Go get some water."

"I'm not thirsty," she furrowed her brows.

"Go get some water before I find a puddle and use it to drown you."

Lydia sighed and walked away, leaving Mobius to continue. After all, it was his idea to talk to Odin; it was only right he handled it. She walked down the corridor to a water fountain, pulled her hair to one side, and bent down to drink.

"Right, Time."

Lydia furrowed her brows; she knew that voice.

"What?"

She straightened up and saw the distorted reflection of herself in the fountain pipe, and behind her, Loki's shape.

She turned quickly but found only a young red-haired janitor.

"I said be careful with the water; your tie is all wet."

Lydia looked down at the fabric that was indeed wet and wiped her mouth with the back of a hand.

"Thanks" she murmured before walking away towards one of the bathrooms.

She opened the door and approached one of the hand dryers, turning it on with a sigh and putting the end of her tie under it.

How crazy. She was convinced she had heard his voice. Hallucinations were a new level of compromise. Mobius was right to tell her to calm down. Maybe there was some medication she could steal from the facility. Any would do; maybe it wouldn't make her better, but it would give her a nice trip.

"Excuse me" called a lady behind her, "do you mind using the right time?"

"What, excuse me?" Lydia furrowed her brows.

"I should use the right time" she pointed to the dryer with a smile.

"…Please…" Lydia took a few steps back, confused. She watched the woman dry her hands serenely, then smile at her before leaving.

"What the hell…"

It wasn't possible. Three times, the same hallucination with the same voice. It wasn't possible, or maybe it was? When she was captured as a variant and brought before Renslayer, even the whole concept of the TVA seemed impossible.

She leaned her backside against a sink. Maybe she was just trying to give a logical explanation to her own madness, but what if it was indeed him? Loki had become the god of time, but he hadn't stopped being the god of mischief. He could access anyone at any place and time and maybe enchant them. She wasn't sure how his magic worked, but if anyone could do something like that, it was him.

"Yes, but what right time?" She gripped the marble behind her, thinking out loud. "Loki, damn it, help me, what's the right time?" She looked up but saw only the ceiling.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Come on, Lydia, think."

Odin sleeps hanging from Yggdrasil. Odin knows everything about Yggdrasil. Loki created Yggdrasil.

Something didn't add up. If Odin hung himself on the Yggdrasil tree but this wasn't created by Loki yet, what did Odin hang himself on?

Unless there were two Yggdrasil trees. Was that possible? Maybe. Fortunately, she knew who to ask.

She ran out of the bathroom and went straight to Odin, still talking to Mobius. She didn't know about what, it wasn't important.

"Can there be two Yggdrasils?" She interrupted.

"Of course not" he smiled at her as if she were crazy.

"No" she repeated. Not two Yggdrasils.

"Are you okay?" Mobius asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I have, but we'll talk about that later" Lydia shook her head, focusing.

It's just fucking tree. The one she repeated every day since she started looking for solutions to Loki's condition. A fucking tree, and trees are ancient, not eternal.

"Is it possible for Yggdrasil to die?"

"Of course," Odin nodded.

"And in that case, there would be a Ragnarok, right?"

Odin nodded again.

"But Yggdrasil is a magical tree, right? I don't think it can rot or… or be infested and consumed by parasites."

"Obviously. It's fueled by a magical core, a sort of heart."

"Who created that magical core?"

Odin paused, and slowly a smile spread across his face, one that reached his eye this time.

"I think you already know the answer."

Son of a bitch. She couldn't say it to the father of gods, but she thought it very, very intensely.

"Sorry, I'm lost," Mobius interjected.

"He came into contact with Yggdrasil, right? But that's not possible because the Yggdrasil we know wasn't created yet. That means we're talking about two different trees."

"And how does that help us?" Mobius furrowed his brows, looking at her as if she were crazy. Lydia was not crazy.

"Allow me to help you," Odin cleared his throat. "I think there's a translation problem. Our Ragnarok doesn't exactly equate to your apocalypse, but rather to a rebirth. In the ancient stories of our peoples, it is told of several Ragnaroks, in which a world was destroyed to allow the rebirth of the same and the gods who inhabit it. And according to these stories, there are certain figures who always perform the same task: who creates the tree and who destroys it, to then make it reborn."

"And how would destroying the tree help me if to do so I would have to kill Loki?" Her tone was slightly irritated.

"Nobody said anything about killing our Loki. There have been many Lokis and many Lydias, many Thors and many Asgards throughout history."

"Are you talking about reincarnation?"

"He's talking about variants," Mobius interjected, throwing a glance at Lydia, who raised her eyebrows, shaking her head indicating she didn't understand.

"After all, Norse mythology is full of cyclical myths. Everything is destroyed before the gods come back to life and rebuild."

Odin must have felt particularly generous that day, because he decided to help them with one last piece of information.

"You've studied," he smiled, pleased, "but allow me to give you one more detail, something you won't find in any text. The tree is not powered by Loki himself, but by his power, which is encapsulated in the heart of Yggdrasil and those, my guests, are two very different things."

EXTRALONG CHAPTER FOR MY DEAR READERS. I FEEL LIKE LYDIA'S MOOD IS "LOKI MA BOY IZ DAT U?"... GURL IS ONE MENTAL BREAKDOWN AWAY FROM MADNESS, AND I KINDA FEEL THAT. AS USUAL THANKS FOR READING AND A SPECIAL THANK YOU TO @mischief2sarawr FOR ALWAYS SUPPORTING ME <3. SEE YOU SOON. AAAAND IF YOU WANNA SEE LOKI YOU GOTTA WAIT, THAT'S THE PRICE FOR TRYING TO SAVE THE DUDE.

[deltatonotia]

Pinned yayayaya

heyo!! i'm delta (she/they) (/blake/jenn/eliza/rona/lillian/warrior/kash/maliu/keynoto/mallory; yes i have a lot of names i know...) and i am cringe culture's number one opp!!

i'm very new to tumblr so apologies if i'm doing anything wrong with tags or anything!!!

i am a person who is from the hell of a state we call nevada, and i have many interests!!!!! some of which are, but not limited to because my brain cannot work sometimes:

VOCALOID (and other vocalsynths, but i have not kept up with the various vocalsynth software)

Geometry Dash (my hardest is an insane demon, Rupture)

The Amazing Race (you thought i'd say Digital Circus, didn't ya?)

Epic Battle Fantasy

The Witch's House

The Gray Garden (i don't support dsp)

Purgatory / Three Forbidden Books

Lily's Well

Lacey Games

and other things i like but not as much as i once had

Mad Father

Ib

Aria's Story

Wolf and Rabbit

To the Moon

anyways other than i do things like make OCs (150+), worldbuild/lorewrite, do silly overarching plot roleplays with my homies, and play modded minecraft

my backlog right now is fucking expansive BUT if you see me talking about higurashi on here that's when you'll know it is too late

anyways DNI if:

basic DNI criteria (if you're discriminatory/have illegal and morally gross paraphilias/believe in morally disgusting things being okay like proship for example)

mogeko castle defender/fan

cringe culture supporter

zionist

you think online relationships are invalid

transmedicalist (meaning thinking you can't be trans if you didn't experience dysphoria beforehand)

you don't believe in separating art from the artist

and before you follow:

i NEED tone indicators to be used

don't make even lighthearted jokes about my interests. i'm very insecure about being judged on that

i am autistic!! i am diagnosed!! idk just thought you should know

BY THE WAY, I AM A MINOR. PLEASE DO NOT BE WEIRD/CREEPY AROUND ME.

i hope to make some new good ol memories on here!!!

(forgive me if the tags i used shouldn't be used here, i'm veeery new to tumblr)