#and felt compelled to draw my boys again

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

i miss these guys

[starshideurfics]

A Mother’s Love

Omega Benny who was part of the MKUltra experiment in college. They took his baby, said he died, but Benny knows in his heart that he would have felt that. He moved to Hawkins after he found out Brenner worked there, hoping to be near his pup.

But with his build he’ll never make it past security.

So he waits, gathers information, and when Terry Ives comes to him with her plan, he asks her to look for his boy.

She’s so focused on finding Jane, Terry doesn’t even have a chance to notice that none of the pups there could be Benny’s boy.

Because he’s already been smuggled out.

The Harringtons aren’t the kind of family to go to a diner, so the first time Benny sees Steve the boy is in middle school, out with his friends. 13-years-old, still unpresented, and his scent makes Benny’s heart ache.

He’s found his pup.

🫂🫂🫂

Steve was a sensitive child. His mother always said so, that he couldn’t stand to see anyone in pain.

He’s grown out of it, or learned to control it now, hides it by fitting in with the popular kids, does his best to get Tommy not to be a dick.

But maybe that’s why.

Why he feels compelled to open the door back to the kitchen while he’s waiting to pay, and finds Mr. Hammond crying.

“Is something wrong?” he asks softly, letting the door close behind him.

“Oh, no…” Mr. Hammond says, wiping at his eyes. “Not wrong. Very right. I got some good news just now.”

“Oh,” Steve says, nodding. “That’s good. Still, are you gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, that’s very kind of you…?”

“Steve. Harrington.”

His face twitches at Steve’s name, but settles into a smile. “Thank you, Steve. Your mother must be proud of you.”

“I dunno about that.” Steve blushes. His mother worked hard to make sure he could get along alright, but she would be upset with him for being nosy. For being noticeable.

“Well, I’ll be out in a minute. Meet you at the register.” He slaps his thighs and gets to his feet, and Steve slips from the backroom.

🫂🫂🫂

Benny doesn’t push. Not that first time. After what happened to Terry, he knows to be careful. But now he knows it. Remembers Marsha Harrington from the lab, one of the kinder nurses.

She must have gotten Steve out, but clearly not very far. Brenner might still know where he is.

But his boy is free.

And closer than he thought.

He calls Wayne Munson, asks to come over that night. Benny needs to make a plan.

🫂🫂🫂

Benny brings burgers and fries over to Wayne’s after he closes up at 10. Wayne’s out smoking on his tiny porch, and immediately pulls him into an apple-cinnamon hug.

He lets himself cry again, being held by his closest friend. Wayne lets him cry, holds off on asking questions.

Once Benny’s cried himself out, they go inside, Wayne grabs a couple beers, and they sit at the kitchen table. “So,” Wayne starts, “Tell me what happened.”

Benny does.

“And you’re sure it’s him?”

“Yeah. It ain’t just that it feels right. It’s Marsha Harrington.”

Benny takes a deep breath. Wayne already knows the basics of what happened, about the weird experiments and the drugs, about the isolation and giving birth too doped up to know up from down. About Terry and Claire, Danny and Paula, the other omegas in the program. His friends.

But he doesn’t know as much about the doctors and nurses that surrounded them. The scientists.

Benny’s talked about Brenner, but not this. He blows out his held breath.

“I always hoped I’d get Marsha’s rotation for blood draws. Could barely feel the needle go in when she did it. She was gentle.”

He tells more, neglecting his food, how Marsha held him after Brenner said the pup didn’t make it. “Too small, such bullshit, I could feel him inside me; my family has big babies.” Wayne smiles at that, looking up. “But Marsha was kind, said to hold him in my heart. That a mother knows…”

And he did. He does. He knows his boy, and now he’s seen him, Benny feels a mix of joy-pain-terror over it all. “Maybe she still works there, or maybe she started to lose faith then. Somehow, she got him out of there.”

“She must know you live in Hawkins now.”

“Probably.”

“Do you think she’d talk to you?”

“I dunno.”

“So, what do you want to do?” Wayne takes a swig of his beer, his food mostly eaten, while Benny’s is practically untouched.

“I wanna hold him.” Benny rubs at the tears in his eyes. “But I don’t want to scare him. He’s half-grown as it is.”

Wayne gets up, goes to put his arms around Benny, puts a wrist by his nose to calm him. “Want me to ask Eddie about him? They’re close enough in age he must know some things.”

“I… Yeah, please. God, Eddie probably hates him.” Even keeping his distance, Benny knows the Harringtons are rich as sin.

“Far as I can tell, the only thing Eddie bothers hating is the hospital. And sometimes his daddy, when he ain’t idolizing him.” Wayne steps back, wraps up Benny’s untouched burger, and puts it in the fridge. “A lot happened today. You should rest; hopefully it will all be clearer in the morning.”

Benny nods, happy to follow Wayne to his nest, to be held like he’s precious as he falls asleep.

🫂🫂🫂

Eddie’s cutting math class, hanging at the Hawkins High smoking patio, when one of the Hawkins Middle side doors opens. He recognizes Harrington from his hair, even fluffier than normal because he keeps running his hands through it and rubbing at his neck.

His polo is darkened with patches of sweat.

Eddie drops his half-smoked cigarette, grinding it out with his heel. He runs over to the younger boy—still a pup, but it looks like that won’t be true much longer—hands held up to show he may be an alpha but he’s not a threat. “Hey, you okay there?”

“No,” Harrington whines, tugs at his shirt. “Think m’dying.”

Taking a quick sniff, Eddie picks out the honey-sweetness of omega, and grins. “Not dying, presenting. Want me to take you to the nurse? Have her call home?”

Harrington shakes his head. “Dad’s out of town, and my mom has some lunch thing… Nobody’s home.”

At least he’s with it enough to know that.

“I could still take you to the nurse, she’ll have… stuff to help—”

“No! Please, don’t take me back in there.” Harrington looks about to cry, only to double over in pain, like he’s been punched in the stomach.

Eddie reaches out on instinct, squeezes his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes.

It’s like saying it makes it true, triggers the perfect thing to do in his brain. Harrington is still pretty short, just clearing five feet tall. “Do you think you could balance on my handlebars? So I can get you somewhere better than this? Somewhere comfortable.”

Harrington nods, and Eddie smiles.

He guides him to the bike rack, pulls out his own bike and holds it steady as Harrington gets situated. Biking with the extra weight is hard, but it doesn’t take long for Eddie to get them to the omega he trusts most in the world: his Uncle Wayne.

“What the hell, Ed?” Wayne asks from the doorway.

“No one at home,” Eddie pants, still catching his breath. “You wouldn’t wanna have your first heat at school either. Told Harrington I’d take him somewhere safe.”

“Harrington?” Wayne looks startled. Eddie starts to worry.

“You can call me Steve,” Harrington says with a pout as he gets off the bike.

Wayne nods. “Steve, come on in. We’ll get you comfortable, but you’re gonna want something from your mom’s nest, the scent will help.”

“Mom doesn’t have a nest, she’s a beta.”

“Oh. Then we’ll get you set up in mine. D’you wanna shower? Deal with the… mess?” Eddie knows Wayne is being delicate.

That he doesn’t want to say that Harrington’s underwear is full of the aftermath of his pussy opening up. It might not be yet, Eddie’s not sure. They don’t go too in-depth on the timeline in health class.

The grimace on Harrington’s face, the quick nod, says it’s already happened.

Wayne gets a hand on Harrington’s back, helps him inside as he stares at Eddie. “Head back to school. Stop in the middle school office to let them know Steve went home.”

Eddie digs his toe into the ground. “Okay…”

“And stop skipping Algebra! You wanna graduate, don’t ya?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Eddie watches as Wayne’s attention turns fully to Steve, feels a spike of jealousy, then pushes it away as he turns to bike back to school.

🫂🫂🫂

Steve feels better after the shower, and Munson’s uncle left him baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt. His skin still feels too hot. Itchy. He pulls on the sweats and tightens the drawstring, but leaves the shirt as he wanders from the tiny bathroom.

“Hey, kiddo, let’s get you settled.”

“Thank you, Mr. Munson.”

“Wayne is fine. Ya thirsty?”

Steve nods, suddenly aware of how dry his tongue is.

“Yep, your body is gonna run through fluids pretty hard for the next day or so. C’mon, pup.” Wayne places a hand between Steve’s shoulder blades and guides hin to a cozy nest of blankets.

There are shirts and pillowcases tucked into the sides. The whole room smells warm, like cinnamon rolls with sticky glaze. The homemade kind, spicier and sweeter than the ones from the tube that his mom makes on the weekends. Or… Used to make. They don’t do family meals much anymore.

Wayne helps Steve into the nest, makes a shushing sound when Steve whines at being left alone. “Just getting you that water, pup.”

Steve nods again, wriggles down in the nest, and breathes deep. He feels better almost instantly, his nose pressed against a plain, white undershirt. Right there, the scent of apples cuts through the cinnamon, and Steve relaxes, melts against the blankets. He feels safe here, protected. Like he’s being held.

He wants to be held. Wants his mother.

Steve wishes he was little again, that he could be wrapped in a blanket and held in her lap.

His mother hadn’t held him like that since he started school. Since he stopped going to the daycare with the colorful playroom.

His mother is not a cuddler.

Steve wants to be cuddled. Desperately.

Wayne comes back with his water, and Steve sits up. His skin drags on the blankets, sweaty. Wet.

He drains the glass and Wayne sets it aside. He sits in the nest with Steve, pets his hair. “How are ya feelin’, kid?”

“Okay. Better. It’s nice here.”

“Good. That’s good. Do ya know when your mother should be home? So I can give her a call. Let her know where you are.”

“Four. I think?”

“Okay. Until then you rest.” Wayne pushes back Steve’s hair from his forehead.

Nodding, Steve nuzzles back against the apple-y shirt again, and starts to purr.

part 2

[dee-writes-angst]

THE DAWN COURT (Chapter Five)

FEATURING Lucien Vanserra x Reader

SUMMARY On the way through dawn, Lucien begins to open up to you and your stubborn heart can't resist falling deeper and deeper into the warmth of his beautiful smile.

CONTENT WARNINGS childhood abuse, abusive relationships, beron, Lucien is a momma's boy, brothers being pitted against each other, BERON VANSERRA, more mentions of Elain

AUTHORS NOTE I'm not sure how the Courts series became my constant proof of live update, but here we are again, and I can't say I feel bad about it.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The road to the Dawn Court stretched out before you in an endless array of soft pastel hues and rolling hills, the sky above tinged with faint lavender and gold as true dawn approached. Unlike the lush forests of the Spring Court or the frozen majesty of Winter, this land bore a gentler beauty—one that whispered of new beginnings and the quiet hush between night and morning. The air here felt lighter, as though each breath you took was suffused with the promise of a sunrise not yet fully formed. It was a place of transition, where the darkness of the night yielded gracefully to the first touch of day.

You and Lucien had ridden hard for hours, leaving the stark cold of the Winter Court behind in pursuit of the next alliance to be reestablished. Both of your horses moved with weary steps, their sides heaving gently, their coats dusted with sweat and flecks of road-grime. As you crested a gentle slope, an oasis of sorts revealed itself below—a small watering hole nestled in a shallow dip of land, surrounded by wiry shrubs and clusters of pale wildflowers swaying in the breeze. Tall, slender trees with silver-gray bark stood sentinel around the pool, their leaves rustling with the same airy hush that seemed to settle over the rest of the Dawn Court.

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, its rays slicing through the mauve-tinted sky in shimmering beams. A light, warm wind caressed your cheeks as you guided your mount down toward the water’s edge, relief stirring in your chest at the thought of a short rest. Lucien followed close behind, his features illuminated by the first true glow of dawn. The lines of tension you’d grown used to seeing in his face had eased somewhat during your travels, but every now and again, you caught a glimpse of the pain he tried so hard to hide.

You dismounted, carefully leading your horse to the water. Lucien did the same, quietly checking his horse’s bridle and running a soothing hand along its flank. His gaze drifted out over the pool, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke, letting the hushed magnificence of this new land envelop you. The sky above faded from lavender to rose, a gentle wave of color heralding the day’s arrival.

When Lucien finally broke the silence, his voice came out softer than usual, as if the serenity of the Dawn Court compelled him to speak more gently. “You asked me before about Beron,” he began, his tone laced with a cautious vulnerability. “About what it was really like… growing up under him.”

You looked over at him, meeting his amber gaze. There was something raw in his eyes, a memory or a series of memories too heavy to keep locked away. You approached quietly, your footsteps muted in the soft ground, and took a seat on a low rock near the water’s edge. Lucien followed suit, sinking down beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him in the mild dawn chill.

“My father,” he continued, drawing a shaky breath, “wasn’t just cruel as a High Lord—he was cruel as a parent, too. Some days, it was the smallest thing that would set him off: a gesture, a slip of the tongue. Other days, it was nothing at all. He… he thrived on instilling fear, on making all of us believe we were never quite good enough.”

His words hung in the air like an echo, and you felt your heart clench at the thought of a young Lucien forced to navigate that sort of chaos. You wanted to reach out, to rest a comforting hand over his, but you kept still, sensing he needed to release these memories in his own way.

“My mother,” Lucien went on, the faintest tremor in his voice, “was the opposite. She tried her best to protect me from Beron’s temper, to shield me and my brothers from his worst impulses. It wasn’t easy, and… well, you can guess how things ended up. But she loved me fiercely, abundantly. I think it’s what saved me, that knowledge that at least one parent cared. Genuinely.” A wistful smile ghosted over his lips, gone as quickly as it came. “She was quiet about her affection when he was around, but behind closed doors, she was everything a mother should be—kind, supportive, protective.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “She sounds incredible. I wish I could have known her.”

Lucien’s gaze flickered with gratitude. “She is. And it was she who first asked Eris to keep an eye on me. That might sound strange, I know—Eris, of all people. But he wasn’t always… well, he wasn’t always what he is now. At least, not with me.” He paused, brow furrowing slightly. “He could be cold, quick to anger, but there were times when he’d intervene if things got too bad with Beron. It’s why I can’t hate him entirely, not the way some of our other brothers do. He protected me when it truly mattered.”

A gentle hush settled between you, the soft ripple of the watering hole and the rustle of leaves in the breeze the only sounds cutting through the dawn. Your heart was pounding, heavy with empathy and unspoken understanding. Lucien had revealed so much of himself—his pain, his past, the people who shaped him.

“And the rest of your brothers?” you asked softly, aware of how fragile this moment felt. “I know there are… many.”

A humorless laugh escaped him, bitter edges clinging to the sound. “They mostly hated me. Saw me as weak because Mother favored me, or perhaps because I was the youngest. Or maybe it was just Beron’s poison that seeped into everything. He pitted us against each other. Turned us into rivals. And after I left the court for good…” He trailed off, a sorrowful light in his eyes. “I suppose they wrote me off. Or, more likely, they never think of me at all.”

Silence settled again, deeper this time, weighted by all the memories and regrets Lucien had just laid bare. Without overthinking, you reached out and rested your hand on his arm, your thumb brushing gently against the fabric of his jacket. It was a small act of comfort, but you hoped it would say what words could not—that you heard him, that you saw him, and that you cared.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “No one deserves that kind of upbringing.”

Lucien’s gaze flicked to where your hand touched his arm, and a flicker of warmth softened his expression. “It’s all right,” he said, though the catch in his throat betrayed him. “I’ve lived with it for a long time. Talking about it helps, I think.”

He set his free hand over yours, gently squeezing. A delicate beam of sunlight caught in his hair, highlighting the copper tones, and for a heartbeat, the two of you were perfectly still—two people who had traveled so many miles, endured so many struggles, and found a measure of solace in one another’s presence.

When at last Lucien drew away, a faint smile touched his lips. “Thank you. For listening.”

“Always,” you replied, your voice barely above a breath.

The horses stirred behind you, drawn to the water, and the moment shifted. But even as you both rose to tend to the animals, the Dawn Court’s sky now blazing in pink and gold overhead, you knew that something had changed between you. You’d peeled back another layer of Lucien’s guarded heart, and in doing so, had opened yourself up to the kind of bond that could either mend you both—or break you altogether. For now, you chose to let hope settle in your chest, buoyed by the promise of dawn and the faint trace of Lucien’s touch lingering on your skin.

The Dawn Court’s gentle magic seemed to cradle you both as you traveled deeper into its lands, where the sky forever hovered between the last shades of night and the earliest colors of morning. Soft lavender clouds floated overhead, their undersides brushed with gold. In the distance, pale hills rolled into the horizon, blanketed in fields of wildflowers that looked as though they had stolen the very colors of sunrise for themselves. Everything here whispered of beginnings—fresh starts, second chances—and perhaps that was why Lucien found it easier to open up in this place, where dawn’s light might cast away shadows of the past.

You had been riding for most of the morning, the conversation between you and Lucien ebbing and flowing with comfortable ease. Sometimes you talked about mundane things—the best tack for your horses, the surprising flavor of Dawn Court tea, small jokes and observations about the people you passed on the road. Other times, you fell into quieter moments, letting the hush of the open road surround you. But there was a notable shift in Lucien’s demeanor. He seemed lighter, as if the bitter memories he had shared with you at the watering hole had momentarily loosened their grip on him.

Eventually, you came upon a small village nestled at the base of a pale, sloping hill. The houses were low and built of sun-bleached stone; the roofs sparkled under the gentle daylight as though dusted with starlight. A winding stream ran through the center of the settlement, a ribbon of glittering water that reflected the pastel sky overhead. Lucien proposed you stop there for a short rest, and you readily agreed. You could use a break from the saddle, and you couldn’t deny you wanted more time in this peaceful realm—more time with him.

A local baker, cheeks ruddy from the warm ovens, directed you to a quiet courtyard where you could hitch your horses. The courtyard was bordered by slim, arching trees whose leaves were tinted with silver on the underside, rustling in the perpetual dawn breeze. Lucien handed you a small pastry—flaky, filled with a sweet fruit compote—and you laughed when he coaxed you to try it, proclaiming it a specialty of the region.

“Better than Summer Court fruit?” he teased, a playful sparkle lighting his eyes.

You took a bite, rolling your eyes in mock challenge. “You’re just trying to one-up Tarquin, aren’t you?”

His grin spread slowly, more genuine than you’d seen before. “I’d never admit to such a thing,” he said, his tone light, though the humor in it was real. The tension lines that so often pinched the corners of his eyes and mouth were markedly softer now. He looked… happy.

You leaned against the trunk of one of those silver-leafed trees, watching as he broke off a piece of the pastry for himself. That fragile warmth in your chest—something that had been growing steadily since your journey began—glowed brighter. You couldn’t help but notice the way your pulse skipped whenever he smiled at you. Or the twist of quiet anger that bubbled up when you remembered what he had told you of Elain—how she wouldn’t return his feelings, how she had turned him away time and again. It grated at you, how someone could ignore a man who had endured so much, how they could cast aside the vulnerability he offered so rarely.

It felt selfish to think like that—Elain’s story was hers, and maybe she had reasons you didn’t know. But still, you couldn’t stop the frustration from gnawing at you, at her seeming rejection of someone who was worth so much more than he gave himself credit for.

“Thinking about something?” Lucien asked, drawing you back to the present. He dusted his hands free of pastry crumbs, then stepped closer, tilting his head as he studied your face.

You realized you’d been staring at him—at the faint freckles on his nose, at the slight curve of his lips. Heat rushed to your cheeks. “Just… random thoughts,” you managed, though your voice sounded strangely breathless even to your own ears.

He nodded once, gaze flicking away as if politely choosing not to press. You respected that about him—his ability to give you space while still being open. He turned slightly, letting his attention wander over the sleepy village. Children played in the distance, their laughter weaving through the streets. A few villagers tended to gardens, brimming with soft, dawn-colored flowers that drank in the perpetual half-light. Everything felt caught in that threshold between night and day—like Lucien, in so many ways, suspended between past pain and future hope.

“It’s strange,” he said at length, slipping back into that gentle, confessional tone you had grown to treasure. “Feeling this… peace. Traveling with you, seeing these courts—helping them—it’s unlike anything I’ve done before. Maybe it’s because I never really had the chance to just… be.” He paused, as though searching for the right word. “With Elain, things are always tense, always so painfully uncertain. I don’t blame her for that, truly. She never asked for our bond, and I can’t force her to accept it. But every moment with her feels like… I’m waiting on a precipice, wondering if she’ll finally see me.”

His expression dimmed slightly, the ghost of heartbreak flickering across his features. As much as you wanted to rail at Elain for hurting him—even unintentionally—you couldn’t ignore the sincere love he still harbored for her. It both warmed and pained you in equal measure.

“Do you still hope she will?” you asked softly. Your heart squeezed painfully at your own question, but part of you needed to know.

Lucien sighed, looking down at his boots as though the dusty cobblestones held an answer. “I… don’t know. Part of me will always hope. It’s my nature, I guess—to hold onto that little spark. But lately…” His eyes lifted to yours, that flicker of warmth returning. “Lately, I’ve been wondering if there could be something else for me. Something that doesn’t revolve around a bond that might never be accepted.”

Something else. Something… or someone.

His gaze caught yours, a quiet intensity there that made your pulse pound. Did he mean you? Or was he simply speaking in generalities, about finding a purpose beyond waiting for Elain?

Your throat felt tight, but you managed a small smile. “Whatever you choose, Lucien, you deserve someone who sees you as you are. Not as a burden, or an inconvenience, or an unwanted tie, but as a man worthy of love and happiness.”

He froze for a moment, the air between you suddenly alive with unspoken sentiment. Then, that slow, genuine smile returned. “I’m starting to believe that might be possible,” he said softly, amber eyes glowing with something close to gratitude. Or perhaps hope.

You swallowed hard, your own emotions tangling up in your chest. You wanted to shake Elain for not seeing him—this Lucien who was open, kind, protective, and so very ready to give his heart. But you also recognized how deeply your own feelings were rooting themselves inside you, pulling you closer to him in ways that were both exhilarating and terrifying. You had never expected your mission—your dream of traveling Prythian—to lead to this.

“Well,” you said, voice trembling slightly, “if there’s anything I can do to help… you only have to ask.”

Lucien’s smile deepened, and you caught the faintest hint of color warming his cheeks. “I appreciate that, more than you know.”

You stayed there for a while longer, the conversation drifting in and out of serious topics. He told you more about his childhood—fond recollections of his mother reading to him by the fire, the way Eris would covertly slip him books or sweets when Beron wasn’t watching. Amid these small rays of kindness were darker tales, too—brothers who mocked him, a father who used fear as a weapon. Each new story made you both ache for him and marvel at how he had risen above it all.

Yet there was no denying the lightness that settled over him now, in the Dawn Court’s hush. His laughter came more easily, free of the ghosts that so often haunted his eyes. He teased you about your knack for stumbling into interesting situations, and you teased him right back about his tendency to hide behind wit and sarcasm. For once, he didn’t bristle at the observation, only shrugged with a lopsided grin.

When the sun climbed a little higher—though never truly reaching full day in this eternal sunrise realm—you both decided it was time to press on. With the horses rested and watered, you saddled up again, exchanging a quick, companionable glance. Something about this land, about your shared experiences, had forged a deeper bond between you. It was as if you were both stepping onto a new path, leaving old hurts and uncertainties behind in the gentle glow of dawn.

As you rode out of the village and resumed your journey, your mind wandered back to that moment—when he mentioned something else, something beyond Elain. The hope in his eyes, the quiet thanks he offered when you told him he deserved happiness. It replayed in your thoughts, making your pulse flutter each time.

And with every stolen glance and every smile he gifted you, you felt the terrifying thrill of falling deeper into something you couldn’t name. All you knew was that here, in the Dawn Court, amidst pastel skies and rolling hills forever suspended between night and day, you and Lucien seemed to be forging something new together—something that made the day brighter and the long road ahead far less lonely.

TAGLIATELLE

@littlest-w01f @rcarbo1 @mirandasidefics @thelov3lybookworm @lilah-asteria @megscabinetofcurios @thecraziestcrayon @surielstea

[heartcereql]

tommy shelby x finn's teacher!reader pt.3 || pt.2 , pt.1

you smoothed your dress for what felt like the millionth time that evening, running your fingers through the orange and golden fabric.

you stood outside the garrison, noise and light filtering from the inside. if one listened closely, a few tipsy men could be heard faintly singing to some even faintier orchestra music. but you were too lost on your thoughts to pay any mind to it. tommy's words reverberated in your head. wednesday evening. it appeared he was throwing quite a party inside the pub. weird, considering it was wednesday, but who were you to judge.

though the sky was darkening and the streetlights emitted very dim light, you glistened against the night. gold jewellery adorned your ears, neck, arms and fingers. you looked radiant. nevertheless, the fact that you were going to be seen only increased the bundle of nerves in your gut.

you tried to remind yourslef that this was just an invitation to a party at tommy shelby's pub, strictly that. it was by no means exclusive. but you knew better than to believe that. though it might come off as insignificant, it incapsulated something more. with thomas shelby it always did. even the most ordinary actions turned intimate and compelling.

after what felt like an eternity to you, you finally gathered the courage to walk the few steps that separated you from the pub and get in at once. a wave of heat washed over you as the temperature rose from inside. the music was louder, delicate and harmonical, with chattering everywhere.

you found yourself contemplating the beautiful ornaments of the garrison that fascinated you so much. the interior lights brought a glimmer to every corner. and then a particular glint caught your attention.

an ocean-colored depth, captured in a pair of piercing eyes, already familiar to you by now. but they didn't fail to draw you in every single time.

he was leaning against the bar, and he didn't even wait for a second to make his way towards you once he saw you.

"y/n" thomas called out as he approached you.

"hey" you greeted, cheeks rosy from the chilly weather. "how've you been? how's everything?"

"not bad, not bad. how 'bout you, things alright?" he replied, cautiously eyeing the way you glittered- beyond your accessories, there was a certain glow in your skin, silkness in your hair. and that dress fitted your figure perfectly.

"everything in order" you smiled, not missing the chance to take a good look at the man who had been plaguing your mind for the past few days. he had always felt like a mystery to you, but now you were looking forward to explore said mystery. "it's quite a party you've got in here"

"thought you'd like it" he said. he rather meant something along the lines of 'i wanted a desperate excuse to see you again', but he kept that to himself.

"i absolutely do. thank you for inviting me, the party looks lovely" you smiled his way, heart fluttering in your chest.

"it was all polly's doing" tommy admitted.

"polly?"

"my aunt" he replied, gesturing with his head to a more private room near the door.

he put his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it softly as a welcome, but guiding you to the secluded room where his family and some of the peaky blinders were in.

he held the door open for you. inside sat two men who you recognized vaguely, arthur and john shelby. there were also a woman, a few men and-

"finn? hi!" you acknowledged your student, sitting at a corner, trying not to frown once you saw the beer in his hand.

the boy's eyes widened, his face flushing lightly.

"miss y/n, hello" he mumbled, too shy to look at you.

"isaiah, take the boys to the cut or somewhere, will ya?" arthur muttered to one of the men, who gave him a nod and took finn away to gather the rest of the younger boys.

"everyone, y/n y/l/n" tommy introduced, hand still on you as he guided you to a seat. "these gentlemen are my brothers, john and arthur; and my aunt, polly gray"

ah, polly gray. you took a careful glance at the elegant, classy lady, who exuded charm. yes, the party seemed proper of her.

"care for a dance?" tommy asked, leaning slightly towards you.

the two of you had exited the room a while ago, mingling with other people and enjoying some drinks.

you gaped at him for a moment, suddenly breathless and at a loss of words. you knew everybody would be watching, but your concerns went further than that. wasn't all this going too quickly? but also, weren't you enjoying every last bit of this?

"oh, i'm not sure, tommy, i-" you stuttered, trying to excuse your way out of it. though you had done your best to hide it, you had no clue on how to dance. "i don't dance..."

" 's okay" he reassured, a smile on his lips. "follow my lead, eh? you'll be alright."

you tried to refuse again, but tommy had already grasped your hand, gentle but firm, and was dragging you to where the people were mingling, dancing and enjoying themselves.

he didn't let go of your hand, placing it on his shoulder instead and putting his hand on your lower back, bringing you closer. his other hand clasped yours and rose it, as a slower piece began to play.

"just back and forth. easy, eh?" he guided your every step carefully, making sure you got how it went before falling into a rhythm.

you occupied your mind with keeping up with his steps, focusing on the music, avoiding instead thinking about the softness of his hand on the small of your back, about how you were so close you could see the freckles on his skin.

you soon got enhanced by the man dancing with you. the expensive cologne, the way he smiled down at you as encouragement, his finger rubbing circles faintly over the back of your hand. it all wrapped around you dreamily.

as the music came to an end, you met his gaze. maybe you shouldn't have, because you weren't able to look away. because, reflected on the captivating blue, were mirrored the same feelings your eyes spoke for you. and he realized that too.

without wasting any further second, he dragged you away from the people, exiting through the back door of the pub, taking you to another room, this one empty of people, poorly decorated.

you immediatly found yourself in tommy's arms again, fingers travelling his body as he leaned even closer.

you stayed like that for some instants, a silent allure settling down over you. his hands on your waist, yor hand on his cheek. taking in the other's presence, as if you were going to disappear at any second.

your mind was racing with worries. how even had you ended up in this situation?

"tommy, i-" you bit your lip, trying to find the words. "should we-"

suddenly his face was inches away from yours, noses brushing, breath fanning over the other's lips. the sudden closeness- even more than it had been before- left you wordless, and any doubt you still carried dissipated.

he said your name in no more than a whisper, as if asking for permission. you corresponded with an impatient nod, your hand upon his cheek caressing it slightly.

tommy's lips captured yours in a gentle and lasting kiss. the contact was delicate, his mouth careful on yours in a way you'd have never exoected of him. his grip on your waist tightened, drawing you closer as the kiss deepened, slow but steady, as if you were savouring every moment.

his silky touch surprised tommy himself; he felt like he wanted to treasure you, keep you with him, too scared to let go. as the kiss fell into a more passionate pattern, he became aware of how fast his heart was beating, hammering in his chest at the scent of your hair, the sound of your erratic breathing. x

your hands found the collar of his shirt and grasped it adamantly, needily almost. your lips danced now to a perfect symphony. he tasted like whisky and cigarettes, and right now it felt like a banquet to you.

tommy broke the kiss for a mere second, face still close, just to admire how the dim lights traced your features, how your lipstick was faintly smeared, how your eyes fluttered open, how your breathing became needful in his abscence.

not being able to hold back longer, you pulled him into a kiss again, a much more heated one, and he complied, more than satisfied with the sight.

© heartcereql, 2023 || thank you for reading ! 𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

taglist: @budugu ☆ @tatumrileyslover ☆ @stayaways-world ☆ @amberpanda99

[velvetvexations]

TERFs are so bad at making bottom surgery sound bad. Saw one say "--- (read: trans woman "vaginas" and trans man "penises") is something only erotic to a necrophile". Which was obviously intended to be off putting but i dunno I think it sounds kinda metal???. N there's one i just ran into calling neovaginas "axe wounds" which I KNOW is meant as an insult but oh my god it makes them sound so badass to me

lmao it was bad enough I felt compelled to censor it but yeah we're all about reappropriating TERF conceptions of trans people here

I'm white myself but I've been noticing more and more that white trans people have such a victim complex and believe themselves (ourselves) to be the most oppressed group ever. An acquaintance of mine (a famous trans activist) recently said that "trans people are the only people that face hate for how we dress". Like??? what about ethnic and religious minorities??? what about All Women including cis ones??? She also loves using antisemitism as an example of what "could" or "is going to" happen to trans people while treating it as something that was resolved after ww2 and is not very much still rampant

People are drawing swastikas on Synagogues and calling it praxis!

Idk if you ever saw this comic, but about a month ago, a trans man made a jokey joke comic about making an appointment at the gyno where the receptionist was confused. The ultimate punchline was that he's trans, and thus is the one who needs the appointment. It's v clear that the main point of confusion is that the receptionist thought she was talking to a cis man, who would have no real need for gynecological care. In the "I'm upset when not about me" crowd of TRFs, they decided it was transmisogynistic bc no *actually* the receptionist thought the trans man on the line with a deep voice was really a trans woman. Because sometimes trans women are mistaken as men over the phone. Idk if they just missed that it wasn't a primary care provider or what, but it was v clear to me that the idea was confusing a trans man over the phone for a cis man. Cis men generally don't need gynecologists. Trans men can need gynecologists. It had fuck all to do with trans women on a subtextual level. I can't fathom how they thought that.

TRFs CANNOT fucking read holy shit I hope they fucking apologized to the author

sorry to bring up PT AGAIN ik you are probably tired of hearing about it, but one of the last posts.i read before unfollowing was a comparison of transandrophobia believers with James Fucking Somerton. and its ironic as fuck to me because alot of critiques of Somerton can absolutely apply to them. equating any critique as harassment based on their identity is a big one and its been driving me nuts to see trfs envoke a James Somerton comparison when they are doing similar shit to him

James Somerton is a convenient lightning rod to compare every bad queer person for the rest of time

As a trans male I hate the weird, white knight shit that i see so many other men doing rn, like shut up will you?? Trans boys are not "cowards" or "incels" for not putting themselves in harm's way for (ESPECIALLY) CIS WOMEN Or trans women/girls. I'm so sick of seeing that stupid shit. Those guys are on the same level as military recruiters in my opinion. Just as predatory and fucking dangerous. Like not to be a dick but why do they seem SO convinced that trans boy must be naturally so much stronger then the average trans girl? Hello???????? Hello???

Man is the Strong Gender.

honestly of it wasn't for the lesbian separatism shit i would think that some transfem TRFs want some kind of tradwife-style "macho manly man protects his wife who is a delicate flower incapable of both violence and self-defense who will die if you look at her too hard" thing with a transmasc partner or something, given the way they actively applaud transmascs who talk like that. which would be totally fine if it was a weird fetish thing but this seems to be an actual expression of their politics (also am i just old or does anyone remember when the dominant feminist rhetoric was "women are just as strong as any men and can protect themselves")

it sure feels like that doesn't it lmao

IN WHAT UNIVERSE ARE WHITE PEOPLE INVISIBLE lmaoooo that post was too much

seriously lmao

I really dislike "trans women are the women of women" cuz once again we're using woman to mean the lowest position in a hierarchy

as always

Just something I wanted to share bc it made me really happy: when the forcefem blog made that post about how forcemasc isn't revolutionary and makes no sense or whatever the fuck, one of my transfem mutuals talked about how stupid the aforementioned post was and expressed her support for forcemasc and transmascs in general. I had no doubts that she was supportive of transmascs but that made me super happy!

Hell yeah, I'm really happy for that anon!

Happy Christmas eve if u celebrate ^^ hope ur havin' a good evening [or whatever time it is over where u live]

you as well <3

Logging into Tumblr after a chill movie night with the family only to see you've murdered a guy, holy shit

my tits were too heavy once more

saw another transandrophobia denier, this time on my dash specifically

terrible

Hell yeah it's always nice to find a casual history enjoyer online who's not racist

I do my best.

[angie-words]

Writers Guild Presents: Letting Go - a Write A Way one-shot!

Art by @ines2925 💜

The boys are back 😎 I'd been thinking of doing something with these two disasters again and then I got the Dom/Sub prompt for the @goodomensafterdark Fall Ball Kink Thrall event.

CW/tags: Dom/sub, Soft Dom/Top Crowley, Sub/Bottom Aziraphale, explicit sex, past trauma due to being neurodivergent in a neurotypical world, smut, human AU, ADHD Crowley and Autistic Aziraphale, dirty talk, blow jobs

Summary:

Azira and Crowley have been together for a few months and things are going great. However, when Azira catches sight of a particularly smutty piece of Accurate Prophecies fanart, it leads to him realising there's something he'd quite like to explore with Crowley, especially as it might alleviate some workplace stress...

Or: Crowley engages in some soft dom roleplay so he can give his angel exactly what he needs to stop thinking.

Excerpt:

While Crowley certainly found the illustration compelling, the effect it had upon Azira was far more interesting. His pupils were blown wide in arousal, barrel chest rising in stuttering breaths, lips hanging open as his tongue edged out to wet them. A flush began to grow across his cheeks, creeping slowly down that beautiful throat until it disappeared beneath a buttoned up shirt and bow tie.

The reaction was fascinating and Crowley took a moment to appreciate the sight of Azira Fell blue-screening. He and Crowley had been physically intimate for a while now and, while they’d both enjoyed being top and bottom at various points, they’d not discussed anything around submission and domination. The two things didn’t automatically go hand in hand, after all. Azira hadn’t mentioned being interested in such things, let alone a preference, but Crowley was starting to suspect his angel might have one.

“Alright there?” he asked, and watched as Azira slowly came back to himself, blinking rapidly and clearing his throat as he did.

“Oh yes,” he squeaked unconvincingly, “ah, tickety-boo! I hope it’s, well, given you some fodder for your next chapter!”

Eyebrows raised, Crowley let that exclamation pass (“tickety-boo”? Fuck, he really did love him) and covered his disbelief with a long sip of coffee. As Azira fussed with some imaginary fluff on his trouser leg, Crowley decided to wait and see. They hadn’t been together long, but one thing Crowley understood was that Azira took maybe a little more time to process how he felt about things.

Placing his phone on the table, he wrapped an arm around Azira and cuddled up against him, drawing a pleased hum from the adorable man. No, Crowley thought, better he worked things through. He’d talk to Crowley when he was good and ready.

It turned out “good and ready” only took a day.

Continue reading on AO3 or Start the Series Here

Thank you to @sakascal @playdohangel and @rofell and @bohoteacher being my wonderful beta readers!

[the-possum-writes]

Hiiii!! I just finished watching AT again, and i been loking for some FinnxReaderxFern fics, and i read ur at content and i just love it.So i was hopping if i could request a fic where Finn and Fern has this, confrontation? Jelousy talk? about each other's feelings about reader!!

You can Say no if you don't wanna do it, but i would really apreciated<3.

[Confronting their feelings about you]

❥Character(s): Finn, Fern

❥Tags: SFW, canon typical violence, expressing emotions, gender neutral pronouns for the reader

 ❥Synopsis: What started as a simple afternoon dedicated to cleaning turned into a short lived but intense knife fight when you came up as a conversation topic.

 ❥Wordcount: 1000

❥A/N: I want this gress boy to heal so i'll take whatever chance i get to write him learning to overcome his Finn jelousy.

❥Taglist: @foxpearlwilder

Today is a typical day for the guys; a knife storm has just passed, so they are calmly brushing away the residual weaponry from clogging the top of the treefort, like they do when there is hail or dry tree leaves. "There's less daggers compared to last time, makes ya wonder why huh Fern?" During the cleanup, Finn speaks aloud, the idea circling through his mind a few times

"Hmm, probably because of climate change." Fern disputes bluntly.

Finn pauses in his sweeping to glance up at the sky, contemplating to himself before offering his own two cents. "Or is it because the knife god is dissatisfied with the number of swords and knives forged this year? That the sword-smiths probably have a secret society where they sacrifice things in exchange for good materials." The longer the human boy rambles, the more Fern is interested by the explanation and begins unironically contributing his own perspective.

"What if the knife god sends us knives to test if they're nice and sharp?" The offer compels Fern to stop sweeping as well, although his reason for doing so is more of a curiosity to see if his human brother can figure out what he is thinking about. With them still being the same guy, Finn shares that challenging expression in his eye.

Fern swoops down and throws a knife at Finn, but the boy rolls to the side and retrieves a knife from the ground just in time to deflect the second knife thrown at him. Fern attempts to continue throwing blades at his playmate, but he only draws closer in range, forcing Fern to sidestep the pointy jabs directed at him as he grabs his own knife, and they begin sparring right there with the brooms long forgotten. They go at it for a while till Finn notices the sun leaning over the horizon and remembers something.

"Okay okay that's enough, let's wrap this up before the sun goes down."

"Got somewhere to go?" Fern asks as he hops from side to side, still energized from the spar.

"Yeup, a friend wants to collect kelp samples for a college project and I promised I'd help."

"Kelp samples?" Hah! That's boring..." His smile faded. "Wait.. you talking about the biology student that's always cooped up at Turtle P's library?"

Finn confirms, "That's the one." While the human boy skipped happily at the thought of you, Fern's jaw tightened as he felt an unpleasant stir in his chest. Finn had his back to Fern and was in the process of picking up his fallen broom when a knife imbedded itself just next him, missing his palm by only an inch.

"Who knowsss what kind of trouble you'll sstumble into when you're out there collecting kelp sssamples, you could get ambushed by kelpies or banditsss," the grass boy explains with a low tone and a snake whisp in his tongue before his voice shifted back to normal. "They are my friend too! and the last thing I want is to find out they got hurt because you weren't able to help. Now, pick up that knife and show me you can protect them from anyone and anything."

Finn considers the challenge, normally he'd never say no to one but he's grown familiar enough with Fern's mood swings to know it's that darn octopus messing up his head again, but if there's any best way to get it out of his system it's by sparring. With that goal in mind, Finn acepts the challenge even though it means fighting Fern when he's at his "most intense". The duel starts just like the previous one but the longer it went on the more Finn came to realize it no longer had the same playful approach as before, it became all the more apparent whenever Fern purposely scratches at him every time he left opening rather than playfully bump him with the butt of the dagger.

"They're my friend I'd never let anything happen to them!" Finn grinds his teeth as their blades collide.

"I knew them way before you did, i was gonna ask them out... before..." Fern stutters for a second, giving Finn the opportunity to kick him in the back of the knee and knock him down.

"Before you turned into a sword right?" Despite the takedown, Finn's tone softens as he assists his brother in standing up. "So that's what has you all jumbled up. Fern, remember what I said about bottling up your feelings?"

"That I should use my words." He nods like a scolded child.

"How about you share'em with me?" Finn held Fern in hug before giving him a much needed squooze.

Fern sighs. "You know more than anyone why I like them. And when I heard you were going out with them I guess I got a little jealous."

'Right just a bit,' Finn thought, but didn't dare to speak it out and upset his grass bro. "Have you considered asking them out yet?" The human youngster suggests, "You know, like on an actual date and not just collect samples." It sounds simple enough to him, but Fern's inner struggle makes it not so simple.

"I did. But after the whole "I turned into a sword and then the grass disaster," I had a feeling that they wouldn't even want to look at me." Fern deflates and drops down Finn's grip while he explains, but Finn holds him up again.

"Well, you'll never know unless you try it out!"

Fern turned his head in the direction of his human counterpart. "What? But what about YOU? I am sure you have a crush on them."

Finn scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, I do. They're really amazing with the knowledge they have about a bunch of stuff, however... I've already dunked on my other relationships, if anything I'll probably ruin this one too."

For once, Fern sees a part of himself in Finn that isn't just superficial similarities; the hesitance and self-doubt are all too familiar, and despite the little devil inside him telling him to exploit Finn's weakness, he instead tries to encourage him. "Finn, you're a great shot ."

A knock on the door and a doorbell ring from below the tree fort, followed by your familiar voice asking for someone to open it. The two brothers exchange glances before Fern breaks the silence. "How about we each take our shot and let them decide?" he asks, offering a peace deal with a handshake.

"Sounds good."

[poomphuripan]

were u the one who said that Joe is your fav 188 novel protag because there’s like…this profound sad beauty in him? Like the type where you want to see him cry and be sad because you also want to see him pick himself up again, I lost the post so I’m paraphrasing super hard but like . I remember reading that and being like, huh, I see it….(because Poom), but w this week’s episode suddenly I Get It . I’m so obsessed w Joe

hiii nonnie ＼⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠)⁠／

yes i think that's me (hopefully). if i'm not mistaken, i hope/think? this is my post you're talking about.

i'm soooooo happy that someone else is also getting what i was rambling on about (we stan poom phuripan in this household, lord the eye work he is DOING). i felt like a madwoman trying to explain the sad beauty of joe/zhou xiang even before the series aired, but that may also have been me trying to manifest the beautiful sad joe for my stand-in (that we're getting right now)

there's just such this magnetic attractiveness in his kindness and soft hearted soul, that i'm sure is one of the distinctively joe traits that is drawing ming to him as well. he's so strong yet so kind ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

that post holds such a special place in my heart and i always come back to reblog it very often. so thank you for bringing it up hihi (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

[rokurookajima]

for the character ask game!!

Raava:

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

26. What's something the character has done you can't get over? Be it something funny, bad, good, serious, whatever?

Vaatu:

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

23. Favorite picture of this character?

Wan:

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

27. FREEBIE QUESTION!!

THANK U!! obv u knew who i wanted to talk about lmaooo

read more bc it’s yap city under here

raava !!!’

19. hmmm ok so many things hard to say about characters who got SO little screen time lmaoo. so i mean .. that would be the only thing i could dislike about any relationships she had - they didn’t get enough time. i would obv watch 1000 hours of just .. wan and raava existing, doing anything at all. but still ofc being their relationship to each other for the most development of any then .. that’s beside the point

i wish we got more of her relationships with vaatu and korra. i’d love to have seen more in depth exploration of her dynamic and existence with vaatu before they were separated, and also post-fusion, how his existence still affected her going forward. with korra, i love the few interactions we got to see between them but again i just wish we got MORE!!

25. ok the way i honestly don’t remember my FIRST first impression seeing her, but ofc i was uh. how do you say. deeply obsessed forever from the moment beginnings part 2 ended i knew that was something i was never gonna move on from (could’ve never expected the impact it would have on my literal whole entire life but that’s a whole other story lmaoo).

now? that is my fucking GIRL. my woman. i love her so much. i love the way her character has evolved for me over time (as i said in my OTHER ask answer also for her lol, with the small amount of canon time we got there was just always so much room for us to expand on that and i love all the ways that’s grown and changed and expanded in that time)

26. uhhhhh everything. i’ll never get over anything she’s ever done. she exists and i’m like holy shit are you guys seeing this??

vaatu!!! gay boy…..

5. ok agreeing with you that nightwish is absolutely his vibe. but otherwise not really any particular songs come to mind, but y’know… i should look into that more

18. so ofc.. ofc. again with the lack of screen time striking but 😮‍💨 i think all his relationships in canon are compelling in some way. with raava, there is so much narrative potential there to be unpacked

then ofc i’ve slept on this specific thought way too long, but nightmare as you posed in your tags the other day: considering how he must have felt about wan is SO good. the being that set him free later coming back to be the one that imprisoned him. that’s soooo 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼

i also think his relationship with unalaq is fascinating but exclusively through the lense that vaatu is the (for lack of better word) innocent one here; he is the victim of unalaq directly, the manipulated one, the one literally backed into a corner with no other way out. that’s juicy as hell

23. can i say my own fucking drawing lmaoo it’s the panel of him alone in the hvac comic…..

wan :’)

3. i’m going to speak my truth. i hate his fucking dumb ass goatee……

i would never draw him without it tho lmaoo it’s too much a staple of his character design it cannot be removed but it doesn’t mean i LIKE IT

(i hate like. most of the facial hair in all of avatar why did the mustache-less beards have such a grip on the character design.. the pointy ones and aang’s weird chinstrap it just all.. it doesn’t work for me IM SORRY)

25. i actually DO remember the very first image i saw of him and what i thought!! the summer before book 2 dropped when they first released some images from it (i think at comic con or something), that was when they announced they were going to address the avatar origin and showed a single imagine of wan (a screen cap from the air nomad village scene lmao yes i know that) and his name and i was like hm … not sure about this.

absolutely no way i expected him to be my specialest boy ever ESPECIALLY all these years later 😭😭😭 and now yes that just. is what he is to me. he’s the specialest boy ever. i love him an unfair amount he’s like a son to me

27. freebie!!! so i’m gonna say first song that comes to mind when i think about him

i have three (3) variations of waava playlists bc i’m insane (and it’s been 11 years come on) so ofc there are many but the number 1 wan specific song to me is king by lauren aquilina and YES i heard it for the first time in 2013 in a beginnings amv lmaoo so it just. from the start was associated with him but also just fits so well imo

[bettsfic]

Oh yes! I think you would love the main protagonists and their connection. I'm feral about this movie, I just watched the day before yesterday, and I'm so anxious to have time off so I can draw fanart of the thing because it's soooo good.

Now, I love horror, so I have seen so much horror in my life that I can tell you this is one of those movies in the genre that are different. Our protagonist is Sam (short for Samira) and she has a cat named Frodo (I'm sorry but that was genius in so many ways, I can't tell you why because spoilers but they really make it made sense, there is truly a connection there). Frodo the cat is a character as well, I have never seen a movie before that has an animal that has indeed some weight into the movie (at least not one that is not like Marley and Me or those kind of movies).

Anyway, sorry, back to Sam. The first thing you know when the movie starts is that she has cancer. A woman who has cancer in a movie that develops into an apocalyptic world is really interesting. The movie explored this in detail, and I loved every second.

She is tired, she is angry, she is brave, and at the same time, you can tell she is scared af. She has some problems trying to connect with people because she thinks there is no point in it anymore, and probably because she thinks they are sorry for her and therefore their interest is not genuine.

She used to be a writer. She wrote a book about poems. She doesn't have the drive to write anymore, but she carries a notebook, whatever she goes, and I love her so much, Betty. I can't even explain the whole of it.

So next, we get to know the ML. Name is Eric, she is from England and went to NY to study to be a lawyer. He is how you write Eddie on your Stranger Things fics. I went even more feral at this point, I was chewing my fist. They were perfect together.

They connect. They make wonderful things for each other.

THEY EXCHANGE CLOTHES!!!!

OLDER WOMAN, YOUNGER MAN!!!

I don't wanna say more about it so you can enjoy it for the first time yourself, if you want to watch it. (But if you want to know more, just say so, I would be happy to talk about it for hours!)

I would say something I just learned yesterday before I go. Eric has anxiety in the movie. He has panic and anxiety attacks during the movie. What they removed is that he was trying to kill himself when the whole alien/monster ordinal began, and then, he met Sam. They erase this part from the movie, I guess because of time, because I could tell anyway while watching that Eric was maybe suecidal or that al least he was neurodivergent (again, I would love to elaborate but spoilers).

Hope you have the chance to watch it, I would love to know your thoughts if you do so. Also, you can scream at me about it if you enjoy it as much as I did.

So basically, this is a movie about two really lonely people that connect and gain perspective about life and themselves while trying to survive the beginning of an apocalypse. It felt very transformative. It was perfect.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Also, sorry for any weird grammar sentences. I hope I manage to come across all my ideas, English is not my first language.

I forgot to tell you, they are not trying to escape the apocalypse for 3rd parts of the movie. They are just trying to get pizza. SAM STOPS TO SMELL BOOKS AT A BOOK STORE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN APOCALYPSE!! HELP! SAD BOY FOLLOWING OLDER WOMAN LIKE A PUPPY!! There is so much going on, and I can tell this is not a horror per se. I just adore them so much. Sorry, I just needed to add these.

okay you have Compelled me. i will walk to the ends of the earth for any "sad boy following older woman like a puppy" narrative.

this is one of the few movies i don't want to see alone so i'll have to see if my roommate would want to go with me sometime this week. if i see it i'll let you know my thoughts!

[matchbet-allofthetime]

Breakfast Foods, Kisses, and Garnets

Soft!Albert Wesker x short!GNCreader

Word count: 1094

A/N: surprise!! i'm not dead! just sick as hell. i wrote this randomly today because life is hard and i've been sick for almost a week, but yk. i needed comfort and who better than my favourite war criminal? also wesker is a soft baby and yes he's red-eyed in this fic but still working for STARS and is good friends with leon and chris. i cannot let this man go unloved and uncherished, fight me. oh and reader has stretched earlobes bc i do and this was purely self-indulgent

Translations: dragoste = love in Romanian, dragostea mea mica = my little love/my little lover, also in Romanian

please enjoy my favourite man being soft and sleeby and kissing his very short lover many times

─────────────────⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅─────────────────

My hips sway gently to the music playing throughout the large kitchen as I continue flipping pancakes and stirring eggs. I wasn't nearly as tired today as I had been, so I decided a day of breakfast would be lovely. I hum along to the music and my mind drifts away. Just as I'm finishing the eggs and bacon, I hear the front door open. My brows furrow slightly. It's not even 3 o'clock, Wesker shouldn't be home until nearly 6...I move quickly and peak my head out of the kitchen to the front door and see Wesker hanging his keys and jacket. I grin and turn to go back into the kitchen and continue to hum to my music.

I continue flipping the last of the pancakes right as Wesker hugs me from behind. He nuzzles his face into my neck and I laugh as he leans down. "Mmm... smells wonderful, dragoste. What compelled you to make such wonderful-smelling food while I was gone...?" Wesker murmured, setting his chin on my head. His words were tired and slurred as he hummed along to the new song playing. I smile.

"I felt a little better today and decided eggs and bacon sounded good, but I didn't want em without pancakes and syrup!" I hum happily, giggling as he turns me to give me bunny kisses and place another kiss on my forehead. He tilts my head up and silently asks for a kiss. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him instead. He lets out a pleased noise and smiles.

"Well, I'm glad you're better, my darling. You've had me worried for a few days." He says, laughing softly. His red eyes dilate as he takes a deep breath. The house truly does smell wonderful and I let out a satisfied little noise knowing my lover feels more at ease. Our house is warm and inviting and no lights are on- though plenty of warm sunlight streams through the windows.

"You've taken such good care of me. But why are you back from work so early, lover boy?" I ask gently as Wesker pulls me into his chest. He hums, drawing my head to rest on his chest. "I simply worried and... well, Chris and Leon nearly begged me to take care of you. Those two are worried sick about you, you know... speaking of, they've sent me back with some gifts and treasures for you." He replies. I pull away softly as I grab his hand and kiss at his lightly bruised knuckles. I'd have to care for him later too; he'd more than earned it.

"Treasures? What treasures, my love?" I ask excitedly. Wesker merely laughs again and I playfully nibble at one of his fingers. He curls the same finger under my chin and makes for me to look at him just as he kisses my nose. We laugh for a moment together.

"Hmm, not sure. Though I did see lots of sweets and chocolate in there. Leon got you a few of the books you've been talking about recently, all hardcovers, and Chris bought you a few little figurines he though you might like. I've got some things for you as well, my dear, if you'd like them now." He says, thumbs caressing my cheeks gently. He had such a soft expression on his face and I was sure I'd never seen him quite so mellow and sleepy before. I playfully headbutt his chest and he clicks his tongue in mock warning. We laugh again. I simply nod at his proposal and tell him to remind me to get Leon and Chris a gift later as thanks. He nods and goes to get his gifts.

As we sit on the couch and eat, Wesker hands me a little meticulously wrapped gift. I raise a brow at him, but he simply shrugs and half-smiles as his sharp canines rip happily at bacon. I open the gift gently and unwrap a pair of pristine double-flare plugs. They're heavy in my hand and both have dark red almandine garnet at their centers, matching the red in Wesker's eyes. I curl my hand around the precious stones and set my plate on the coffee table, only to move Wesker's own plate before diving headfirst into his chest. He's momentarily shocked and then he feels me shuffling against him. He looks down, equal parts curious about my reaction and worried that I don't like them. He throws his head back and laughs as he sees me tugging out my current jewelry and tossing the metal tunnels onto the plush carpet, only to immediately- and quite happily- replace them with the stunning garnets.

"My dear, I was worried you wouldn't like them- but I didn't expect you to throw your favourite tunnels because you like these so much!" Wesker says as his shoulders tremble with laughter. His hand comes up to pet at my hair while I fumble with the jewelry momentarily, before my head pops up and he ruffles my hair fondly. I have a wild grin on my face and he sees my stretched earlobes move with the weight of the new stones laid heavy in my ears. He grins back at me, and leans down to give me a kiss on my nose, followed by a couple littered across my cheeks.

"Oh Wesker, how could you be worried? They're stunning- and they're just my size! I love them so much already. They-" I stop for a moment and think, eyes growing slightly wide at my realization before a slightly cheeky smile curls across my lips. "Wesker, they look like your eyes." His own eyes widen at my words and his face flushes a deep pink. I laugh and kiss at his cheeks.

"I... I do not think I realized that until you said something, dearheart. But... truly, they suit you better than I had hoped they might. They look perfect on you, my dear." He smiles again, cheeks still tinged pink. I dip my head into his neck and breathe out a deep, comfy sigh. "Oh, my darling, what am I to do with someone as adorable as you? I suppose I have no choice but to love you just a little more. After all, I have taken the week off simply to spend time with dragostea mea mica." He says, watching as I grow excited. I hug him tightly and kiss him again, only for him to start up with warm, muffled laughter into the kiss. Oh, what a lovely week this was going to be.

[sailorshadzter]

Can you write a parallel with canon where Dani is Cersei, Viserys is Joff, and Sansa is to marry him. Jon could be in Jamie’s role as royal bastard. I live for salty teen, angst with happy ending!

okay anon

so hear me out

this has been in my inbox for.... well... forever. lol.

i apologize for the amount of time its been & for the lack of angst??? but i think??? this could span a second chapter???? or more??? i really love this setting & its not one ive done yet. so i can easily be tempted to do a little more to it.

anyways. i felt compelled to write this randomly so here's what i have for you SO FAR. be on the lookout for more! and anon, if you see this (or anyone really), feel free to request more, if you even remember sending this lol

send me prompts

The South is unlike her home in every way possible. 

She looks up at the daunting Red Keep before her, knowing that after this day, everything in her life was to change. The eldest daughter of the Warden in the North, she’s come to King’s Landing to marry the young King Viserys Targaryen, a madman some might say, spoiled and prone to violence when he doesn’t get exactly what he wants. Her father had been against the match of course, but when the King sought your daughter’s hand, there was little he could do but bring her South and hope for the best. 

And so, as they climb the steps to the double doors, they’re already swinging open, revealing to her and her entourage the young and beautiful Targaryen princess, Daenerys. She’s soft-faced, with violet eyes and silvery hair that she wears twisted back in braids, gems sparkling in the sunlight. Her powder blue gown is of the latest fashion, with long sweeping sleeves and an elegant waistline. “Welcome to King’s Landing,” she says with a glittering smile, eyes sweeping from one face to the next before they settle upon the redhead she knows is the girl who will marry her brother. “Lady Stark, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you.” She says these words but somehow, Sansa doesn’t think she quite means them. But, she smiles and dips her an appropriate curtsy, as she knows to do. Her manners are that of a well bred, noble born girl, a girl who had perfected her curtsy at three. There would be no one at court who could rival her in courtly demeanor. “Come, let me bring you inside…” She gestures for the small group to follow after her and they step inside the castle, which to her delight, is as beautiful as she imagined it would be. 

“Thank you for the welcome,” Sansa finally speaks as she turns to face the Targaryen princess, surprised when for the first time she notices another standing there. It is a young man, perhaps only a little older than she is herself, with dark hair and eyes that remind her of home… Why, she knows at once who this young man must be, her very own cousin Aegon, born of her aunt Lyanna Stark and the famed Rhaegar Targaryen. A bastard son, but a royal bastard, raised there among the Targaryen family he had left in Viserys and Daenerys. Some might even say he was the real claimant to the Iron Throne, but the boy had never seemed interested, and so it was Viserys who ruled as King of the Seven Kingdoms. There were some who even whispered rebellion in his name, but such whispers had yet to reach the palace spies. 

Aegon looks solemn as he stands there in all black, opting to leave behind the finery his aunt wears, wearing instead something that could have been homespun for all she knew. He is every inch a Stark born man, looking more like her own father’s son than even Robb looked, his features reminding her mostly of Arya. At once, she feels a twinge of homesickness, for the North would never be her home again. “The King is waiting for your arrival,” Daenerys is speaking once more, drawing her attention away from her cousin and back to the present. “I will have you shown to your rooms, so you may rest and refresh, then I shall have someone bring you to him in the throne room.” Sansa nods, pushing away the flicker of fear, holding her head high, like the queen she knows she must become. A queen would not be afraid.

A queen would be strong.

[ x x x ]

He can’t believe how beautiful she is. 

Of course, he’s seen her painted portrait, but even that did not do her justice, certainly not when she smiles. From where he stands beside his uncle’s throne, the young bastard watches as she appears in the doorway to the throne room, on the arm of one of Viserys’ nobles. She’s in a new gown, one of gray damask, sewn he can see in a fashion more like the South than the one she’d arrived in. Her red hair, so vivid, so long, is pulled half back, a knot of braids pinned into place with a dragonfly comb. The rest of her hair falls long and loose down her back, nearly to her waist, and his fingers ache with the need to know just how soft it must have been. 

“Welcome my lady,” his uncle speaks from where he sits, violet eyes sparking at the sight of the young woman that now approaches the dais. Viserys too notes the beauty of the girl before him, with red hair and eyes so blue they are unlike any color he’s seen before. She sweeps him a beautiful curtsy, dipping so low he wonders how she could ever rise back up, but she does so in a fluid motion that would put even his most noble women to shame. “I am delighted to finally meet you.” Their betrothal has been a long time coming, that was for certain, with many months of negotiation and delay. He rises up, surprising her, to come down the steps from his throne to stand before her, reaching to take her hand and bring it to his lips for a feather soft kiss. From behind him, his nephew wonders who has replaced his uncle, for this was certainly not the man he’s known all of his life. “You are a beauty.” 

She blushes beneath his compliments, dimpling prettily when she smiles. “Thank you, your grace,” she murmurs in a soft, but Northern accent. “I am happy to finally be here,” she goes on with a flutter of her lashes, her hand still in his, daring to give it the gentlest of squeezes. 

“I know you have met my sister, Daenerys already… This is my nephew,” he turns, gesturing towards the young man that looms behind his throne. “Come, Aegon and meet your future queen.” Though he looks as if he’d rather do anything but, he comes down the dais as well, offering the young woman a bow. “Aegon will be captain of the queensguard, you know, so I imagine the two of you will become fast friends. Show her around, won’t you Aegon? And tomorrow evening we shall have a banquet to celebrate your arrival.” He’s smiling, but much like Daenerys, Sansa feels as if what he says, or in this case, what he does, doesn’t really equate to the truth. But, she smiles and nods all the same, for this was her life now.

This was her family now. 

[ x x x ]

Aegon turns out to be more like a Stark than he knows. 

He’s sullen, quite like Arya tended to be, and that thought alone brings a smile to her face. “This way, my lady,” he says, speaking for the first time, gesturing for her to follow after him. Instead, she falls into step at his side, as was her right, and he casts a sidelong glance her way as they step out of the halls and into the bright afternoon sunshine, to visit first the gardens. 

“Oh! How beautiful,” she says as they step into the lush greenery, the floral scents overwhelming as she sinks down to the nearest of bushes, simply to breathe in the sweet scent of the flowers growing there. From where he stands, Aegon watches her, surprised by this seemingly uncharacteristic act, for she seemed like the perfect courtier, never slipping from the role she’s taken on. But here in the garden, for a split second, he realizes he is seeing her for who she really was. “The gardens in Winterfell are never in such a bloom,” she says as she stands upright, brushing off her gown with a smile. “I’ve never seen such beautiful flowers before.” 

“This is only the beginning,” he says as they continue on their way, passing only a few others as they go. “The season has only just begun, after all.” Her eyes widen and she seems delighted by this knowledge and Jon leans over, plucking one of the blooms from the bush, simply so he might tuck it into her braids. “Come, there’s more to see,” he says next and she cannot help but to giggle at his expense, hand to his elbow so she might once more walk alongside him, her skirts sweeping across the stone walkway as they go. 

“We are cousins you know,” she says after a moment, her turn to look sideways at him. He’s already looking her way, those gray eyes dark, eyes that seem to stare right into her very soul. Aegon nods, he knows this information well enough, his uncle never ceases to remind him that he’s only a bastard born son. “You look like my father, like my sister.” She goes on as they cross the path, his steps leading her towards a stone bench that sits in a far corner. 

“I have heard,” he says, for another thing his uncle has never let him forget was how un-Targaryen he looks. 

“I never met her, but you must look like your mother. My father always says that Arya is like Lyanna in all ways but the gown wearing and you have her likeness.” She thinks of her little sister left behind, never close, but certainly loved, and wonders what she was doing right then, right now. Probably causing trouble of some kind. “I wonder…” She trails off, tapping her chin in thought, head tilted back just enough that her hair cascades down her back, prompting him to wonder just how soft it might be beneath his fingertips. 

“You wonder what, my lady?” Aegon asks when she doesn’t finish what she’s started. 

When she turns her face back to him, her blue eyes are quite serious in their gaze. “I only wonder what you’d have been named, if you’d been born in the North.” She doesn’t mean to offend, but for some reason, his Targaryen name just doesn’t seem to fit. 

He’s surprised by these words, for all of his life he’s struggled with an identity that never felt as if it belonged to him. Aegon, though his name for nearly eighteen years now, has never felt as if it was truly his. As if it fit who he was supposed to be. Aegon, the name of his dead half-brother, a stolen name his uncle sometimes says in a rage, a name he does not deserve. “Well, had I been born in the North I’d be a Snow,” he replies to which she nods, staring at him as if she were inspecting him. 

“Jon,” she finally says with a smile. 

“Jon?” He questions, to which once again she nods. 

“It would be Jon, most certainly. Jon Snow.” 

“Jon… Jon Snow,” he tests it out, the name feeling familiar upon his lips, despite only just hearing it now. Somehow, this name seems to fit far more than his given name has ever. She’s smiling triumphantly, clearly proud of herself, and he finds he’s grinning himself, a strange warmth flowing through him. 

She opens her mouth to speak, but is silenced by the approaching footsteps of another. It’s a woman that stands there now, a little older than even Jon, with dark hair and eyes, dressed in the traditional garb of a handmaiden. “My lord, your grace,” it takes Sansa a moment to realize the woman is speaking to her with such a title and she reminds herself that she was queen to be, as good as married, considering the binding betrothal contract. “My name is Shae, I’m to be your handmaiden,” the woman continues only when she’s swept them both a curtsy. “The King has asked me to return you to your rooms before supper,” she adds, shooting a quick glance at the young man beside her. 

“Oh, yes, please let us go,” he gets up alongside her, issuing her a quick bow as she turns to go. She turns back only once and when she’s gone, he’s left there wondering why he feels so empty without her by his side.

[simpforchuchu]

Tsuji x reader fluff

a/n: Hii! I couldnt find any Tsuji or Shibaman fics so i decided to write one xçdömxöe I really love them and their precious actors Takahide and Ryu :') my big babes 😭💕💕 I hope you like it :')♥️

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: none

"Tsuji! Shibaman!"

Tsuji and Shiba got up from the bench they were sitting on and looked at who was calling them.When a few Oya boys came by dragging a young girl by her arm, they both looked at the people who had entered in shock.

"What's going on Yamada-kun? Who is this girl?"

When the boy next to Yamada handed the notebook to Shiba and Yamada answered the question.

"This girl was watching the garden from outside the school. And she was drawing in a notebook."

When Tsuji and Shiba looked at the girl in surprise, the young girl lifted her head for a moment and looked at Tsuji.

Then she averted her eyes and lowered her head again.

"Probably, one of the other schools sent her.She was spying on you. She must be a spy.Oi, you! Speak up!"

Tsuji shouted when Yamada pushed the young girl.

"Oi! Don't be so harsh."

Tsuji approached and stood in front of the young girl and studied her for a few seconds.The young girl looked rather frail, like a normal high school student.He didn't think any school had sent her.

"Are you allright ?"

When the young girl didn't say anything, Tsuji wanted to ask again.But before he could ask, Shiba called out.

"Oi Tsuji, you need to see this."

When Shiba showed the drawing on the notebook in his hand, Tsuji looked at the picture in surprise. The drawing on the paper looked just like him.Everything was the same, even the hair.The young girl felt compelled to say something when she saw the boy's was starring at the picture and his confused expression.

"I'm not a spy. No one sent me, I swear."

Tsuji closed the notebook with the frightened voice of the young girl and looked at her.

"I just like to draw things that I find interesting. Your hair was beautiful and I wanted to draw."

"Then why were you drawing the school?"

When Yamada shouted at the young girl again, Tsuji stopped him.

"Enough! Cut the bullshit! Oya looks pretty strange from the outside, I don't think she's a spy."

He handed the notebook to the young girl and smiled.

"And you shouldn't draw people you don't know. This is a dangerous neighborhood, not everyone can be as polite as I am."

Y/n quickly nodded and apologized. Tsuji nodded and smiled.

"You can go... and... also be careful."

Y/n nodded her head and hurried out of the school, Yamada and the people around them protested. Shiba yelled and silenced them again.

"Stop the bullshit, leave before Todoroki hear about your stupidity."

As Yamada and the others left, Tsuji was thinking about the young girl and the picture she had drawn. It was quite a strange moment. It was also very interesting that she was brave enough to get so close to Oya.Probably she was new around here...

***

While Y/n was walking home in the evening, she slowed her steps with the shouts coming from the street. But when she turned her head in that direction, succumbing to her curiosity, she was in shock with the person she saw.

She had faced many incidents in the Sword area that she had moved to a few months ago. She had become accustomed to living alone while her family did their parenting duties just by sending money. She was happy with her small apartment and pictures.

Y/n liked to live things in the moment. She never knew what tomorrow would bring her. Just like she didn't know that the strange-haired boy she had seen a short while ago would change her life.

The first time she saw him, he was buying a coke from the market.The second time she saw him, they were on the same bus.When she saw this boy at Oya High School, she secretly wanted to draw his picture, but it didn't turn out well...

Now, the boy she saw while walking home surprised her again. Because he was fighting alone with a large group.

Y/n could guess that he was strong but they were outnumbered so she felt she had to do something.

Thinking of what to do, when she saw that someone hit him hard on the head with a pipe, knocking him to the ground and kicking him, she acted without thinking and shouted.

"Oi! I called the police! They'll be here soon!"

While they were all looking at each other, they couldn't risk getting caught by the police and fled away. Y/n couldn't believe her plan had worked, but when she saw the young boy leaning against the wall and coughing, she quickly ran to his side.

"Hey! Are you okay?"

Tsuji clutched his stomach and opened his eyes that he closed in pain, looking at the young girl who was looking at him with concern. He recognized her even in this dark street. Confused, trying to understand whether it was a dream or reality, he realized that the young girl was really there with the water she was holding out.

Y/n helped him to slowly drink the water, then put the bottle in her bag, and hissed when she saw the blood dripping from the young boy's head.

"We need to go to the hospital. Stay awake okay?"

Tsuji slowly reached out and took the young girl's hand that was holding her phone and made her look at him.

"I can't go to the hospital. My mom shouldn't find out about it. Besides, dont worry, I'm okay."

"What the hell are you doing? Do you even know how you look?"

Tsuji nodded and smiled

"It's okay, I'm fine. I'd better go before the police come."

"I didn't call the police, I just lied to make them go."

Tsuji stared in surprise for a few seconds.Then he chuckled and stood up with support from the wall. The young girl stood up with him in worry.

"Where is your house? I'll help you."

Tsuji smiled and shook his head.

"I can't go home either."

"Huh? Will you stay on the streets?"

Tsuji straightened his jacket and brushed off the dust. He shrugged and smiled.

"I'll probably sleep at school tonight.Thank you, you put yourself in danger for me."

Y/n quickly nodded

"You're injured and it's cold. Let's go to my place."

"Huh?"

Looking at the boy who is in surprise, y/n got under the young boy's arm and supported him.

"You can put your weight on me"

"I'm twice your size. I'm pretty heavy too."

Y/n laughed and replied

"I'm not as weak as I look, don't worry."

Tsuji smiled and let the young girl support him. Of course, he didn't put his weight on her...

After about 10 minutes of walking, y/n opened the door of the apartment and they went inside together. The young girl let Tsuji sit on the couch slowly, then ran to the bathroom and came back with a small first aid kit in her hand.

Tsuji was still puzzled. He didn't even know why this girl was helping him. But something inside him told him that he could trust her.

The young girl was very kind and sweet.  She was obviously a nice and harmless person. He would also prefer this warm house over the dark school classrooms...

"You can lie down. I'll make a soup for you after I clean your wounds, okay?

Tsuji slowly nodded and laid his head on the pillow. It hurts but tried not to show it.And Y/n sat next to him on the sofa.

He watched y/n's worried face as the young girl gently cleaned his wounds with alcohol swab.

She was a beautiful girl. She was naturally beautiful.She was wearing a loose-fitting black T-shirt and jeans. Even though she had a simple style, she looked very good to Tsuji's eyes.

"By the way I'm y/n" said y/n

Tsuji smiled and replied.

"Tsuji..."

Y/n nodded her head and continued with her work. The young boy watched her silently for a few minutes, while y/n threw the cotton in her hand aside and put band-aids on the wounds.  After patching the wound on his head, she got up from the sofa with a smile.

"I'll make you a hot soup now. You can rest. If you need anything, just call."

Tsuji muttered a small thank you and smiled. As Y/n stepped into the kitchen, he closed his eyes and began to think.

***

When Y/n turned off the stove and went back to the living room, she saw that Tsuji fell asleep. She took the blanket on the other sofa and covered him, and studied his face for a few seconds. 

He had interesting and nice hair with colorful dreadlocks and a cute face. Smiling, she sat in the opposite sofa and took the sketchbook on the table in her lap. He was quite innocent and cute while he was sleeping, so she wanted to draw it.

After drawing the young boy for a while and coloring his hair, she went to her room to change.

When Tsuji opened his eyes after a while and saw that y/n was not around, he slowly stood up. His body ached a little, but he needed to pee...

He noticed the sketchbook on the sofa as he looked around. The cover was open, so he bent down slowly to look at the open page and was surprised to see his own picture again.

After looking at the picture for a while, he smiled. It was a really beautiful drawing. That's why he couldn't even be mad at the young girl...

After a while, he remembered why he had gotten up from the sofa and went to the corridor. Seeing the light and the room with the door slightly open, he went there. Although he was a little embarrassed to see the young girl wearing her shirt inside through the doorway, he knocked on the door and made the young girl turn to him.

"Can I use the bathroom?"

Y/n smiled and nodded and picked up the loose t-shirt from the bed. She walked over to Tsuji and handed it to him.

"Your shirt has bloodstains on it, it's one of my dad's shirts. You can wear it."

Tsuji nodded and muttered a small thank you, then entered the bathroom the young girl pointed to. After he finished, he changed his shirt and put it aside. After washing his hands and face, he looked at his face in the mirror for a while and rolled his eyes. He would definitely find those who did this to him.

After Tsuji came out of the bathroom, he thoughtfully went back to the living room. Seeing the young girl sitting on the sofa and a bowl of soup on the coffee table, he smiled and sat back in the sofa again.

"Really...thank you. I owe you."

Y/n laughed and replied

"I hope you like my soup. Besides, you didn't owe me...remember you helped me too."

Tsuji put the spoon on the table and looked up at the young girl. She had a sweet expression on her face. What she said was sincere.

"That day... I apologize on their behalf... I can't say that Oya students are very polite."

Y/n laughed and nodded

"Eventually, I was able to convince you all that I wasn't a spy."

Tsuji let out a small laugh and her smile widened when y/n heard how beautiful his laugh was.

"You draw really well."  Y/n looked there as Tsuji pointed his head at the notebook.

"Oh... thank you. I think I draw the things pretty well what I like."

Tsuji nodded his head and looked at the young girl again with a question in his mind.

"The things you like?"

When Y/n realized what she was saying, she wanted to say something in a panic, but she couldn't.Tsuji found her worried expression cute.  He chuckled again

"Does that mean you like me?"

Y/n first averted her eyes and then shook her head with a laugh

"Will you believe me if I lie?"

Tsuji laughed

"I can pretend."

Y/n smiled and nodded

"Okay then... no, I don't like you."

At what the young girl said with a smile, Tsuji smiled and drank another spoonful of his soup.

"I am glad to hear that."

[bellewintersroe]

Ronald Speirs x reader

Part 3! This should be better than the last part and less of a filler chapter?! I hope anyway.

Anyway, surprise surprise, sorry not sorry, this is smutty asf. Idk what’s wrong with me atm but whatever, I just need to write this whilst I can!!

Tw - 18+, sexual references, sex unprotected AGAIN lmfao, whatever, dirty talk, let’s just see what I end up writing.

Jenny keeps dreaming about Ron, now there’s no distractions with war, she finds the tension between the two of them too much and some how they end up in an office together… talks about fraternising ensue between the pair.

“You’re so good… so fucking good at that.” Ron whined, bucking his hips further up into my own. I was riding him, my hand pressed to his chest as his head dropped back, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was experiencing. He was beautiful, so overwhelmingly perfect, and he just oozed sex appeal.

“Keep riding me like that.” A soft spank was left on my ass cheek, my hips quickening their assault and my knees ached for release. “That’s it… cum for me Jenny, cum all over me.”

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna c-“ gasping, my eyes burst open, scanning around the room wildly. My heart was thumping against my ribcage and my momentary confusion was soon dissolved when I remembered where I was and what had just happened.

A stupid dream, another one. About Ron as well, god, these stupid wet dreams had to stop, what was I, a 14 year old boy?? Glancing around my own room, I was grateful I had my own space, able to not disturb any of the other girls from their slumbers.

As I slumped back down into the bed sheets, I couldn’t help but feel the aching of my core between my legs, sighing, I crossed my legs and attempted to ignore the sensation. I was becoming obsessed with the idea of being around Speirs, I hated it, another few days had passed and I just couldn’t clear my mind of all the nasty thoughts I had about my commanding officer. We could be dishonourably discharged, punished, locked up- even though the war was drawing to an end, the methods of punishment were still severe. My hand didn’t slip anywhere near my underwear this time, I just couldn’t give in to the thought of ruining mine and somebody else’s life. It was easier for me to think that when I wasn’t around him, when he was there, I felt compelled towards him. Fuck.

The following day, I’d spent my day off in the confinements of my bedroom. I’d had a relaxed morning, desperate to avoid the exact same guy I was also desperate to see again. The only time I’d ventured out was to go on a gentle stroll around the lake to meet Betty who would be waiting for me somewhere around the waters edge. It was tranquil, peaceful, I enjoyed myself. That was until I’d bumped into a group of men from a company I didn’t realise. They’d been drinking, and for the most part the majority just smiled and walked past me, but two guys towards the back of the group began nudging one another, sneering towards me. I knew better than to react, so I continued walking past them, praying nothing else would be said until they decided to steer directions and walk up at either side of me. “Hey, pretty, what’s such a nice dame like you doin’ walking all alone?” “I’m meeting somebody.” I politely responded, forcing a smile as I continued my quick pace to my destination. “Oh yeah, who? Your boyfriend?” The other one responded as I simply forced an awkward laugh. “Shut up, Frank, she’s obviously not taken if she’s walkin’ around here alone.” “Uh- I actually am.” I lied, crossing my arms over my chest defensively as I waited for my answer to get rid of them. “Oh, really? What’s his name?” “Where is he?” I winced at their questions, ignoring them again and continuing to walk forwards. I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the interaction, especially with both of them being on either side of me. “You don’t speak very much do you?” The one I assumed was called ‘Frank’ questioned, almost stepping in front of me so I had to step around him. That’s where things got weird. Just as I stepped around this ‘Frank’, the other guy stepped straight up behind me, seeming to find it appropriate to place a hand on my lower hip. “Get off me!” I snapped, brushing his hand off and yelping in surprise as I turned around to face the two of them. “Hey!” A third voice erupted, bellowing from across the dusty track. As I turned over, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The moment couldn’t have been any more awkward than if it tried, but of course Speirs had witnessed the whole thing. “Oh great, who is that? Your boyfriend?” The first man leered as I watched Ron practically push straight past the second guy, snatching the other man’s arm. “Touch her again and I’ll break your fuckin’ arm. Both of you what’s your name and company? You’ve got nothing better to do than harass women, huh?” Woah. Even I was intimidated by Ron’s act of dominance. The men learnt the hard way not to mess with me again- or Captain Ronald Speirs. I’d never seen him in such a bad, bad mood and I didn’t know where to look when he and the two men’s commanding officer were practically telling them off like school children. As if the exchange couldn’t get anymore awkward, the men were fully escorted away to be dealt with, both their heads hung sheepishly low. Their commanding officer apologised to me once again before following the disgraced pair with a harsh stomp in his step. “You ok?” I was squinting watching the pair being practically arrested, my face only relaxing when I looked back over to Speirs. He was calm now, he wasn’t all pissed off and protective, even though I found that charming that he’d stand up for me, the way he was so soft now made me feel something deep within my chest. Something other than lust, oh no-

“I’m ok… thank you sir, I should go and find my friend.” “Where are you walking to? I’ll walk with you.” He swallowed as I averted my gaze from his. “To wherever my friend is, sir, Betty’s waiting for me somewhere.” “You don’t have to call me that, you know.” He muttered, beginning to walk besides me as I looked back up to him curiously. “Call you what?” I slowly asked, looking over his jawline that had a slight layer of stubble growing on. The afternoon sun was creating an orange glow across his profile, and I began to find myself admiring him in the most stupidest of moments.

“Just call me Ron.” He gently told me, kicking the dusty dirt below him. His words made me smile, the softness of them surprised me, before I then, of course, panicked that we were suddenly having a one on one conversation. “Okay… S- Ron.” I let out a soft breath of laughter at how normal it felt coming from my mouth. I’d only really called him that once before, and that’s when we slept together in the Eagles Nest. “I’ll have to get used to that.” I admitted. “I think I see your friend.” Ron then responded as I glimpsed up to see Betty waving me over. “Oh, yeah. Thank you for standing up for me earlier, I appreciate it.” Ron’s lips twitched half up as his eyes remained fixated on my own. “You let me know if anybody bothers you again.” Nodding, there was something a lot more innocent about the exchange compared to all the others we had. It felt pure, and it filled me with a sense of warmth. “Thank you, sir.” I quickly spoke, walking backwards, get still facing him. “Ron!” I corrected, before scurrying off to where my friend was.

* ”Then fourteen hundred you can report back to me that it all went smoothly in there.” Winters explained to me as we walked side by side towards battalion headquarters. Winters was busying everybody up, giving them ways to escape the war, whilst half of us nurses had been treat unfairly, he’d managed to get me out of a night shift by going down to a children’s hospital for the morning and visiting there. “Perfect, thank you so much, sir, I appreciate it.” I turned up to the red headed man with a smile on my face. “Good, you’ll be good help in there. It seems slightly more… alive than the night shift does.” “You’ve got a good point there.” I chuckled, entering the building to where a few of the other nurses were gathered around with our superiors. The majority of us had been fixed up with a good reasoning to get us off this unfair treatment, Winters wouldn’t have us being used unfairly.

The only space there was, was besides Captain Speirs at the back, as I walked over I smiled gently, swallowing the lump in my throat at the sight of him. I figured it would be substantially less awkward considering our interaction earlier, I hoped so anyway. Throughout the whole meeting I was only half listening, Ron’s arm would brush up against mine every now and then, and out of the corner of my eye I could see he was so close. If I stepped just the slightest bit closer, we’d be touching, to an outsider it looked normal, but to us it felt like there was something else completely different happening. Maybe that’s what he wanted, to play some kind of game, like cat and mouse. It was dangerous, so risky in a room full of all these people, but I liked the thrill of it. It felt like my breathing was uneasy, I swear he could tell, with one small glance to the side he’d be able to watch over my every movement.

Fidgeting, I moved my hand behind me, to rest on the table, but my fingers had brushed over his warm ones, and if I wasn’t crazy I swear I felt the nudge of his hand against my own. I remained completely still after that, feeling like a prey in that room under a predators beady eyes. Captain Speirs was so close to me, there was barely any room for small movements without grazing over one another. Worst of all, I wanted him to touch me- I wanted to touch him. After all the dreams I’d had about him…

There was a short film to be played, about the army nurses going into Japan. Exactly not what I wanted to think about, the impending threat of war not being over in the pacific somehow seemed even more daunting than everything we’d gone through in Europe. I switched my mind elsewhere, Ron. Avoiding listening to such statements such as ‘suicidal enemy’, I instead glanced down to the darkness that surrounded us in that small room. If he or I were to touch one another, nobody would know. He could probably slip a hand right up my dress and it would all be concealed by the darkness of the room. Sighing, I purposefully inched my hands ever so closer to him. Whilst I didn’t think he noticed, he did rest one hand on the table, the side closest to me. Stopping my movements, I glanced down to my left, making it a little obvious what I was doing. He must’ve noticed, copying my actions and gazing down to where my hand lingered before back up to the short film once again. For a moment, I thought he didn’t like it, so just as I went to retrieve my hand I was shocked when a simple finger ran over mine. A smile grew on my face, it was good it was dark in there because the footage was nothing to be smiling about. I felt his finger tip dance over the skin of my fingers, then my hand, before daring to reach behind me and stop at the tables edge. The small action drove me crazy, I think Ron knew it as well. When the lights were back on both of us acted like nothing had happened, despite the fact I was still breathing in manual mode, I semi ignored him, not knowing what to take from that situation.

Later that afternoon I was doing a few physical exams of the men for their records. I didn’t mind them, they passed time and I usually just got to spend time with the men I’d grew close friends with. It was 7pm, however before I’d got to the last man. “See you later, Alton, can you send in the next guy?” “Sure, I’ll catch you in a bit.” He winked, leaving the room as I ticked off a few more things on the paper before hearing the door shut quickly. “Oh, Captain Speirs, sir.” Scraping back my chair, I moved to stand at attention. “It’s fine.” He was quick to settle the formalities, handing me his papers over. “You’re here for a physical?” I asked dumbfounded as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Yes.” He responded, looking at me like I had two heads. What else would he be hear for? Stupid, stupid.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” I shook out of my awkwardness, glancing down to the papers on the table. “So you passed your physical exam by miles… you feeling okay in general?” My eyes widened seeing his physical scores. He was one of the top men, fastest, strongest- no wonder he was now the commanding officer. Ron nodded with a slight pout. “Okay, good.” I pushed the papers to one side, grabbing the stethoscope from the side. “I’m gonna just listen to you heart and breathing, take some blood and then I’ll start examining, come sit over here.” I nodded as he awkwardly took a seat in front of me. I smiled gently, moving over and pressing the stethoscope on his skin, under a loose gap in his shirt. Everything was fine, heart, lungs, but what I felt more awkward about was telling him to strip. “Um, if you just go behind the curtain and undress for me, same as always.” I avoided all eye contact, pretending to busy myself with a pen that I couldn’t find a home for. When I glanced up I noticed Ron attempting to undo his shirt right in front of me, my eyes widened. “Oh no, sir, you gotta go behind the curtain.” My hand landed on his as our eyes met for a brief few seconds. “Oh, okay.”

Within moments Ron was undressed and I was a blushing mess, of course he had his underwear on, but seeing him like this when we weren’t in a sexual situation made me al flustered. “You can come sit back down.” I watched as he sat back in front of me and I began examining, feeling his glands for any sign of bother, there was nothing.

“How much of this are you gonna do?” Ron then cleared his throat as I looked back up, my hand still rested on his chest. “How do you mean?” “As in… what else do you have to examine.” “oh, nothing private.” I sheepishly spoke. “That’s a man’s job, not mine.” An awkward giggle escaped my lips as I pressed over his chest, feeling for any abnormalities. I’d moved in closer, our knees knocking slightly, as I shuffled in my hair hearing him exhale gently. “You got any more after me?” Ron then questioned, my eyes lifting to really recognise how close we were. “No, you’re my last of the day.” My voice came out, barely a whisper as he nodded, a half smile growing on his face. Bashfully, I fluttered my eyes away, my heart rate taking off at a million miles per hour. Once everything was checked, sight, hearing, breathing- Ron was fine, but I however was left completely flustered, a literal mess, I was overheating as well. “You’re all done, everything’s fine.” My hand ran off his shoulder, standing back up from my chair, to push it back to where I got it from. “It is?” Ron spoke as I nodded. “Perfect, yeah. No surprise you got some of the top scores for your fitness earlier.” Ron sheepishly shrugged it off as I picked on the wooden table nervously as he stood up once again in front of me. “Don’t do that.” He winced, a hand covering mine. My gaze directed straight up to his, head tilting back to fully catch sight of him.

“Sorry.” My voice came out weak, like a whisper. “You said I was your last check up, right?” His voice lowered as I nodded, anticipating where this was going. His hand was still on mine, and we’d began to close the gap between us. “Yeah, last of the day. I got more tomorrow.” I averted my gaze one again, seeing him nod from the corner of my eye as his hand slipped off mine. Without thinking, I chased after it, my hand resting back in his again. “Ron, wait.” I stepped closer, borderline freaking out when I realised what I’d just done. Ron’s brows furrowed slightly, his free hand coming up to caress into my hair and over the side of my neck.

“You should go relax tonight.” He muttered, tracing his fingers across the sensitivity of my scalp. “I’m fine.” I sighed into his touch, hearing him hum out before moving closer to fully end the gap between us. Ron kissed me once sweetly, and again, before I felt myself practically dive on him. Shit, I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t get enough of him.

My fingers dug into the bare skin of his back, deepening the kiss as I couldn’t decide whether to yank on his underwear or his body to get even closer to me. The close proximity all day had ruined me, I was already aching desperately over him, and it was so wrong, in a physical exam with one of my superiors. But shit, I couldn’t help it. When my hands fell to his underwear, pushing on the band, he borderline pushed me back onto the desk, body toppling onto mine whilst pushing up my skirt. “I need you.” I admitted. “I just need you to fuck me.” The words came out bolder than what I expected. His fingers snapped at my underwear, stretching them down as he kicked at his fingers, lubricating my aching pussy before I pulled him by the ass into me. From the lack of foreplay I was still a little tight, but god I needed more of him, the second he entered me I let out a relieved sigh, feeling his arms wrap around my body to pull me close. His thrusts began, quick and harsh, filling me up in the way I’d needed. The sexual tension between us couldn’t be contained, and it always came to this in the most sneakiest of times. “Fuck me, sir.” I sighed out, keeping my voice on the low seeing as there was most likely people outside the door. Ron huffed with each thrust as he fucked into me, making the the table jump and move with each pump. He took a few harsh, slow thrusts, before giving it to me exactly how I wanted. One of his hands guided down to my clit, rubbing fast circles over my core as I covered my mouth with one hand.

Ron, knocked this hand away with his chin, attaching his lips onto mine as he groaned into the kiss causing me to scratch at his back harshly. “Please, please- like that, I’ve needed you so bad.” I admitted as he panted out, quickening his pace as he was encouraged by my words.

“Can’t stop thinking about you- about this.” He whispered back, grinding his hips right up to mine now as I let out a yelp maybe a little too loud. His words went straight to my chest, a warm swell filled me up and it caused me to scratch at his back more, Ron letting out a growl at the sensation.

It wasn’t long before I came crashing over the edge, babbling away as Ron moaned into my ear. “Cum all over me, fuck, that’s it.” He growled, biting down on my shoulder as his movements became choppy and strained. “Fuck.” “Cum for me, sir, fuck, I want it so bad.” With one last whimper from me, Ron pulled out and unloaded his seed onto my thighs, his high following mine shortly after as we both laid there breathing heavily. He was collapsed onto me, his cum rubbing up all over us uncomfortably. Grimacing, I glanced down as he followed my eyes. “Oh.” With that he was yanking tissues out of the box, wiping me clean before he did himself. I sat up on the table, still coming down from my high as Ron turned back to me, reaching forwards to do up my buttons. “So, is this becoming a regular thing now?” He practically smirked as my eyebrows raised. “I don’t know is it?” I straight up asked.

“Well… seems like it.” He muttered as he pulled his underwear back up, my eyes averting from his still evidently hard bulge. The white briefs didn’t do much to conceal anything, let alone something that bi- “shouldn’t we be more… careful?” “what d’ya mean?” He dumbly asked as I snatched my underwear back off the floor, pulling them back up. “I mean… you know, careful. If somebody finds out we’re both done for.” Ron watched me speaking with an unreadable expression. “You’re my commanding officer, I mean.” I mumbled out, shrugging with an awkward kinda chuckle leaving my lips.

Ron cleared his throat and moved around to retrieve his uniform that was discarded on the patient bed. “Yeah, suppose so.” Suppose so? How was he acting so nonchalant about this? His laid back attitude confused me, I’d expected him to be slightly more uptight, concerned, or maybe that was just me deflecting my emotions on him. “We should, I mean.” Ron corrected as I nodded, nudging down my dress to flatten any creases. Once dressed, Ron inhaled sharply like he was about to announce something important, but it fell flat. “Hm?” I frowned, not knowing how to fill the awkward silence. “I’ll see you… on patrol, tomorrow.” He too seemed a little awkward. After the intensity of our love making, our mundane conversations felt weird and unfitting. “Oh, I’m not going. I’m in the hospital tomorrow morning, so… I won’t be there…”

“Really? Forget what I said then.” He shook his head, fastening the last of his buttons on his uniform. He looked so handsome stood there, all tall and brooding, if it wasn’t so goddamn awkward then I would’ve been overjoyed. “I’ll see you later then, sir.” I smiled softly, fixing all the crumpled papers on my desk which we had messed up previously. “See you.” With one last nod of a goodbye, he’d left the room. A good 10 seconds later I’d noticed he’d left his god damn tie. Fuck. I contemplated running up after him, but then I didn’t want to seem desperate if I did so. Maybe he’d come back for it? Or maybe not, it had been too long of me sat there contemplating for him to have remembered. I was overthinking to the next level, so I simply left the tie there on my desk, gathered all my papers and left the office which I probably could never look at the same again. I was in trouble, big trouble- with myself.

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Here is the link to the chapter before: https://www.tumblr.com/bellewintersroe/714888831358451712/ron-speirs-x-fem-reader?source=share

[nightcolorz]

18 >:)

HEHHEHEH THANK U SM FOR SENDING THE PROMPT KATE ILY, SORRY I TOOK SO LONG!! This ask is following an ask game where u can send me prompts from here: https://www.tumblr.com/nightcolorz/735473060637016064/drabble-challenge-1-150?source=share and I’ll write a Drabble!!

this Drabble is about Louis and Lestat book verse some time around the pl era.

18- Get over it.

The following silence was thick, in that old cliched way. Those eyes were dark, pupils pointed, looking into me. I’d never felt he’d looked at me so intently, like he actually saw me. And he was furious. “Excuse you?” I spluttered, like a plain idiot. It didn’t bear repeating, of course I had heard him. I felt that if I heard him say those things again I’d simply die. “Get over it.” He summarized his earlier statement. “Get over it soon, or I assure you, you’ll find me as lost to you now as I was then.”

I was thankful that I didn’t laugh. “Get over it? Louis.” It was condescending of me to explain. “My darling boy, my precious Angel. Be serious. You watched me be killed and did nothing. You even helped the killer discard of my corpse! Forgive me if I have a lingering bitterness. I should be the one forgiving you! Actually, I have, remarkably, given you an infinite amount of grace. Is that not enough for you, my love?”

He said nothing, only glared at me with a coldness so severe I felt a chill go up my spine. After a beat he spoke, quietly, with a commanding force behind his voice strong enough to take me back. “The killer…” he echoed. “Don’t you mean Claudia? Our daughter? The little girl you ripped from her mother’s arms and forced into a life of damnation, tormented an innocent to our hell, then caged so utterly to you that her only mode of escape was to murder? That “killer”, you speak of? That killer who would have never killed if you had not raised her too! Against my will? And you dare be surprised that I tell you to get over it. You dare resent me when I could not save you from the consequences of what you had done. You blame me? You wonder why I chose that innocent over the devil who’d stolen her soul? You should be thankful for how I have chosen to be with you now, after it all. Is that not enough for you, my love?”

I was stunned. I knew somehow, deep down in my ignorant soul, that he was right in his reasoning, right to tell me what was what, as I was being rather petty and cruel with my blatant passive aggression concerning things so firmly in the past. I’d been taunting him, needlessly, implying his inadequacy for allowing my murder all those years ago. And he had fought back, so fiercely eloquent. This is what I thought on, how far away all this business was, and how removed the man in front of me was from the boy who had stood helpless and cried, as if capable of nothing else, while I begged for him, bleeding out on the floor. I expressed this. “You’ve changed.” And as the words left me I realized that they were not what he wanted to hear. 

“Haven’t I?” He affirmed. “Are you surprised that I don’t sit silently any longer and take your abuse?” I shrugged. “A little.” I said. “I don’t know why I am so awful, to you and in general. It’s like there’s something within me that compels me to be cruel and spiteful when all I really want is to be with you and to love you and for all of it to be forgotten and alright.” 

We locked eyes for a moment, simply and honestly, without fury. “I just want you Louis. I don’t care about the past, I don’t know why I choose to be angry. I am just, you’re right, a devil.” Louis frowned patiently. “No.” He said, to my surprise. “I don’t know that you are. We are only…we are both half stuck in that draw of the past, and we must free ourselves, because we are different now.” I was enamored with his words, their unusual optimism, and the apparent love he felt for me. It was so precious that this was how it was now. I almost wondered I was still bleeding out on that floor, and that this was some fantasy I’d conceived as my spirit fired off its last sparks within my preternatural body. If only I could stop disturbing this bliss with my inherent awfulness.

“You are not that devil who took Claudia’s life any longer.” Louis continued. “That creature would’ve yelled or stormed out and hit one thing or another at my words. No.” He almost smiled. “You’re something altogether gentler and easier to love.” I wanted to weep. “And you are” I began “You’re not my fledgling any longer, if you’d ever been so at all. You’re the vampire I could never be. And I’m honored to be permitted to stand by your side.”  He fully smiled now. “And I’m sorry…” I tasted the word on my tongue, sorry. “I’m sorry for how it used to be. For Claudia, for everything. I want it to be better.”

“Lestat?” He asked after a bit of contemplative silence. “Yes, my Louis?” My response was immediate. “Could you pass me that please.” He requested, gesturing to a lighter sat unassuming and domestically on a nearby table. “Of course.” And so I passed it to him, and he took it, only to ignite a candle that he used to light the words on the pages of his very worn addition of John Keats. I watched the flame flickering safely by his side, saw those green eyes reflected as I have many times, within the flame, and I wondered if creatures such as ourself were truly ever capable of change—or if rather we got very close before we inevitably repeated the same cycles in unending loops for all of time. “I’d be content to watch this fire burn forever.” I thought rather insanely, before I went towards him and took my place in the red velvet arm chair by his side. 

[fanficsfreeideas]

(Yes I used a Greek myth for this, but can any guess which one.)

The Tale of Adam and Alastor: Star-Crossed Lovers

In a time when the realms of Heaven and Earth were rigidly divided, there existed a love story so profound that it transcended these boundaries. This is the tale of Adam, the very first man turned angelic warrior, and Alastor, a priest devoted to the cult of Lilith, bound by his own dark and protective mission on Earth.

The Encounter

Adam, a celestial being tasked with purging sinners, descended to Earth to eliminate a particularly vile soul. As he executed his duty, he sensed a presence behind him. Turning swiftly, he encountered Alastor, a strikingly beautiful young man in his mid-twenties with reddish-brown hair and an olive complexion, dressed in the robes of a priest. Alastor's gasp revealed his surprise and intrigue at witnessing Adam's divine act.

"Who are you?" Alastor implored, his eyes wide with curiosity and fear.

Adam, cautious but compelled by the purity he saw in Alastor's gaze, responded, "I am Adam, the first man. I hunt sinners who defile the purity of this world."

Alastor's face lit up with a bright smile. "I'm Alastor. Anyone who harms women deserves their fate. I, too, protect the innocent."

Despite the dangerous path Alastor tread, Adam felt an inexplicable draw to him, a connection that both frightened and exhilarated him.

Forbidden Affections

Months passed, and thoughts of Alastor plagued Adam's mind. He knew their bond was forbidden, yet he couldn't resist the pull. One night, Adam, driven by longing, approached Alastor's tower in human form, hoping for a clandestine visit.

Inside, Alastor was immersed in thoughts of Adam. His past was marred by tragedy—his mother had given him to Lilith's care to protect him from a murderous father. Raised by a coven of fiercely protective priestesses, Alastor had sworn to defend women from harm, avenging those who suffered at the hands of evil men.

Seeing Adam approach, Alastor's heart raced. "Adam, my dear," he whispered, a smile spreading across his face. "Did you come to see me?"

Adam blushed, struggling to maintain his composure. "I came to check on you, to ensure you weren't slipping into the path of damnation."

Alastor grinned. "I've been a good boy, Adam. I've rid the world of four more vile men. Will you praise me?"

Adam sighed, torn between his love and his duty. "Alastor, you must stop. I don't want to be the one to condemn you."

Alastor touched Adam's face, his eyes softening. "I can't stop. I have to protect my family. They saved me, and I owe them my life."

The Heartbreak

Time and again, Adam and Alastor met, their bond growing stronger, yet shadowed by the inevitability of their fates. Adam learned more about Alastor's upbringing and the coven's vow to keep him chaste and devoted solely to their cause. This revelation shattered Adam's heart, knowing they could never truly be together.

Despite the hopelessness, they cherished their stolen moments, sharing love and companionship, aware that their destinies were cruelly entwined. Adam promised to be there for Alastor until the end, even if it meant becoming his executioner when he inevitably fell.

The Final Tragedy

Years later, Adam felt a sharp pang—Alastor was in danger. He flew to Earth, finding Alastor bleeding out, attacked by dogs and shot by a hunter. Cradling Alastor in his arms, Adam whispered, "I'm here, my love. Just breathe."

Alastor, in immense pain, managed a smile. "Love you... forever," he whispered, before succumbing to his injuries.

Adam, heartbroken and enraged, carried Alastor's body to the coven. The priestesses wept for their fallen son and brother, mourning the loss of their protector.