#and something bad felt actually ominous!

[delphiniumjoy]

Damn, the Wicked movie really was as good as everyone said.

[chuthulhu-plays]

I generally watch LPs of horror games bc I'm too anxious to actually play them but a lot of them have FANTASTIC stories, so sometimes I just binge-watch KrinxTV for background noise. Been watching a lot of playthroughs of Still Wakes The Deep because it's such a delight to hear Scottish voice actors get work and I thought I'd address some questions I keep seeing Let's Players ask:

--Adair is a member of the National Front as you can find out from posters in his cabin, a Neo-Fascist British political party that’s been going since the sixties. While it often preaches British ethnic unity, in practice that often means “everybody in the UK should be exactly like East End Londerners” and features plentiful disdain for Scottish, Irish, and Welsh folk, alongside those perceived as “not British”. No wonder the wanker eats alone in the canteen.

--Neeps and Tatties=turnips and potatoes, mashed, drenched in butter or sauce. Fills your belly, keeps you warm, probably makes you sink like a stone because it’s so heavy.

--Cranachan=a dessert made of raspberries, honey, cream and oats, absolutely delicious

--Rennick calls Caz a “wee ned prick”. Ned is apocryphally said to stand for “non-educated delinquent” and is basically just a way of calling someone an uneducated, lower-class criminal

--A lot of things said by and about Roy indicate that he’s a teetotaller who went through AA and specifically became Catholic and is making an effort at converting Caz.

--I think it’s entertaining how Scottish nicknames often follow a pattern of shortening/rejiggering that I also see a lot with Australian nicknames—Cameron becomes Caz, Rafferty becomes Raffs, etc. Trots is an unusual one but is almost certainly a reference to him being a communist, presumably a Trotskyist. Gibbo is also an unusual one in that it’s just very silly. There’s a kind of indignity implied in being killed by a guy called Gibbo.

--A few times on the radio you hear the Shipping Forecast, a type of weather report aimed at specifically reporting weather conditions out on the ocean, and is also famous for the report being read in such a calm, soothing tone that some folk use it as a sleep aid.

--All the yellow paint for interactable things is very video gamey, yes, but is also in line with old British health and safety standards, and yellow paint on things like emergency ladders or on the edges of stairs that are trip hazards is a thing ou can still see in some older buildings.

--Caz keeps saying he’s “good with the leccy”; leccy=electricity. Caz is implied to be quite a wee guy who can get through a lot of tight spaces, and my uncle swears blind that electricians used to refuse to take on apprentices over a certain size because they only wanted to train wee guys who could get up into the tight spaces that a lot of older buildings are full of. On that note, “wee man” is a term of endearment, generally, and isn’t exclusively applied to short guys.

--Finlay saying of Gibbo that “he’s no right” is INCREDIBLY OMINOUS. It sounds mild but “he’s no right, that boy” is what older folk say about a child who’s been found disembowelling cats for fun or someone they strongly suspect is a pedophile. It’s not something you’d say about a friend who’s just acting a bit unusually.

– “Great minds united over a Buckie”--Buckfast, or Buckie, is a caffienated tonic wine that’s cheap, widely accessible, and is a bit like rocket fuel for bad decisions.

– “Ya roaster” tbh I don’t really know where it comes from, calling someone a roaster, but I’ve always felt like it has a vibe of telling them they’re huffing their own farts.

--Scunnert/scunnered--buggered, screwed, utterly fucked, etc

– “You’re the jammiest bastart on this rig” Someone who is jammy is someone who has incredible luck that is implied to be related to their sheer confidence or willingness to engage in risky behaviour. Walking along the street and finding a pound coin isn’t jammy; crossing the road confident that the cars won’t hit you and stopping in the middle to pick up a pound coin before making it unscathed to the other side is jammy as all hell.

--Barlinnie is the biggest prison in Scotland, and largely hosts violent offenders—it’s where Caz would definitely go for hospitalizing a man.

--Weans are children (contraction of wee yins/wee ones). I thought this one was contextually obvious but apparently not.

SPOILERS BELOW

--”One spark and the whole thing’ll go up”—this is referring to the wee spark of flame in the lighter used to blow up the rig, but is also kind of a pun because electricians are often called sparks or sparkies, and in the end it’s Caz who blows up the rig.

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi love! Could I request a Fred Weasley x Sirius Black's daughter? Like low key goth, full of attitude, and overly confident reader, maybe they're in a meeting for the order and she's giving full attitude or something?? I just need more confident/bitchy reader bro T-T I'm tired of all the 'not like other girls' and shy readers like brother I speak my mind. anywho I love you and you're writing your amazing <3

Hello dear Anon! I hope it’s okay that I tweaked this just a little because I’ve been reading OOTP and it’s a crime that this scene wasn’t included because Fred vs Sirius?! I’d initially planned something much different but ended up 4k words deep here 😂 I love writing a fiery reader and would love to do more of this OC. Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: mentions of injury, Arthur’s attack, general unrest, drinking, brief mention of potential alcohol addiction, sadness and anger. Fred has big emotions. Mentions of Umbitch. Brief nod to the reader potentially being a seer? Secret relationship that gets revealed.

Word count: 4k words (I got sucked in)

The eye of the snake.

"But professor," you protested weakly, actually considering the implications of your actions for once.

"I hardly think now is the time for propriety Miss Black," Professor McGonagall says as she ushers you through the common room and up the stairs towards the boys dormitories, whilst she heads towards the girls to retrieve Ginny. An odd night all around, you thought.

With shaking hands you held your illuminated wand out in front of you as a beacon, though you hardly needed a guide having made this walk so many times before, though never this quickly and without watching out for every creaking floorboard. You reached out for the door handle and slid it open, trying to stay quiet as to not disturb Lee. George was snoring as usual, surprisingly in rhythm with Lee's slight nose whistle which briefly made you ponder how the hell Fred was able to sleep through this crescendo of noise.

You creep towards Fred's bed first, knowing that time was of the essence and gave him a quick shake on his shoulder whilst whispering his name. You felt almost guilty for waking him, seeing him so peaceful in his sleep, knowing that Dumbledore's immediately summoning of yourself and the Weasley children was an ominous and foreboding sign. He looked so handsome, so relaxed and for the briefest of moments you forgot your assignment, wanting nothing more than to just climb in and cuddle up to him, feeling his warmth and softness.

You'd felt it all night, sleep evading you and your eventual dreams disturbed, the sense of something bad occurring pulling at the edge of your mind like a summoning charm. You'd felt the unease, the disquiet all night but couldn't sense anything beyond that, with no details making theirselves known, no visions of what lay ahead beyond the general sense of impending doom.

"Freddie!" You say a little louder, giving him a harder shake, watching as he stirs and eventually opens his eyes, immediately squinting at the light your wand is emitting. "Get up, it's important." You hoped that your blunt tone was enough to drag him out of his slumber and shuffled off towards George's bed where to attempted to wake him too.

"George," you say, giving him a harsh nudge on his shoulder, knowing that he'd be sleeping much deeper than Fred ever did. "George wake up!"

He groans, throwing his arm over his face but you don't pay him any mind, reaching for his dressing gown on the chair beside him and throwing it directly at his face.

"What's happening?" Fred groans, voice deep and thick with sleep.

"Dumbledore's called for us, McGonagall's getting Ginny, somethings happened."

He was out of bed in a flash, recognising your tone of voice enough to know that you were far from joking. George took a bit more corralling but he was quickly roused as you walked out of their dorm, followed closely by both twins who were every inch as disheveled physically as you felt internally. You met Ginny and Professor McGonagall at the top of the stairs and walked quickly and silently behind her, allowing Ginny to walk ahead with her brothers.

"There's been an... incident," McGonagall says, her words carefully considered to give little away of the situation, another ominous sign. "Your father has been injured, though we don't know how serious it is at this time. Professor Dumbledore is doing all he can with Potter's guidance."

"Harry? What's he got to do with this?" Ginny asks quickly, naturally hanging on every word that the professor said. She looked frightened and you could hardly blame her, considering the news. The twins remained uncharacteristically quiet as you walked quickly through the corridors until you were outside the headmasters office.

"Fizzing whizbee."

McGonagall turns to Ginny, casting a glance to the rest of you out of curtesy as the spiralling staircase presents itself at the correct password.

"It appears Mr Potter saw the attack take place."

"We've located your father and he's been taken to St Mungo's Hospital for maladies and Injuries. I'll be sending you all to Sirius' house, it's much more convenient than the Burrow. You'll be meeting your mother there," Dumbledore explains. At the mention of your father, your eyes shoot up to Dumbledore and it suddenly becomes clear why you have been sent for in addition to the Weasley family. Your dad, the safe house, the order of the Phoenix. Arthur must have been injured during Order business.

"How are we going?" Fred asks, his voice sounding as sullen as his face. He sounds unnerved, shaken, and you fight the natural instinct to reach for his hand. "Floo powder?"

"No." Dumbledore says with a slightly shake of his head, "the Floo Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey,"

He indicates to an old kettle lying innocently on his desk, the inanimate object having missed your notice upon entering. "We are waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back... I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you on your way."

His gaze slips to you upon mention of your great-great-great grandfather but you avert your eyes, hardly knowing your place in that moment. Usually you had no trouble expressing your opinion, regardless of the situation, but right now you felt the best thing was to stay quiet and offer a supportive presence.

You thought of your own father, the both of you having spent so long forced apart and of his current predicament, essentially forced under house arrest by the Order. It was safer that way, but your heart still ached for how lonely he would be. You felt conflicted and impossibly guilty at the slight excitement you felt at seeing your dad again in respect of what your boyfriend and the others would be feeling at their own father's fate. Mr Weasley had been a surrogate dad to you whilst your own father was locked away and had been a constant presence in your life, making you feel even guiltier for the hopeful feeling you had about your own dad.

Your eyes suddenly whip around to the flash of a flame from the centre of the office, watching as a golden feather emerges from the combustion, your eyes trailing it downwards as it floats right to the floor.

'"Fawkes's warning," Dumbledore half-explains, eyes flickering between the golden feather and then towards McGonagall.

"Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds. Minerva, go and head her off - tell her any story."

Professor McGonagall was gone within seconds, her messy braid whipping behind her as she exits the office in a flash.

"He says he'll be delighted," an all too familiar voice suddenly says in a grumbling, bored voice. Your eyes trail up to the portrait of your ancestor, the Slytherin banner proudly waving behind him, his face as sour as you remember.

"My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests," he adds with a particular distaste before his eyes meet yours for only a moment, recognising instantly who you are. "As does his daughter."

"What a lovely reunion," you snark, fighting back a roll of your eyes as the familiar anger simmers deep in your gut at his choice of words, not even bothering to conceal the archaic values of your ancestors that belong in the past with them.

"You have all used a Portkey before?" asks Dumbledore, waiting for confirmation from you all as you huddle around the old black teapot, each of you nervous for different reasons of what will be waiting for you on the other side.

"Good. On the count of three then... one... two..."

"Back again, the blood-traitor brats. Is it true their father's dying?" You barely had time to register the creaky voice, never mind distinguish his words as you recovered from the nausea of travelling by portkey. Your stomach still felt tingly, the pulling sensation behind your navel and the wind ringing past your ears as you trapsed through space and time was never a comfortable feeling, having ended up in your dad's gloomy kitchen only moments later.

"Mistress Black returns with her blood traitor friends." You're about to curse into the horrible little elf when you hear a second voice shout loudly from the sidelines, rendering you speechless.

'OUT!'

Fred from beside you helps you up, knowing even in his time of need that Portkey travel did not agree with you and gives you a little nudge towards where your dad leans on the doorframe awaiting your arrival.

"Dad!" You scrambled, running off to hug your father who welcomed you with open arms, chuckling heartily as you barged into him with a slam. You felt awful doing this in front of the Weasley children but you'd allow this for yourself now and apologise later. You looked over your dads shoulder through the wild brown ringlets of his hair and saw that a single place had been set at the table, with a single lit candle and the remains of a solitary supper that made your heart clench. He smelt like stale drink, your stomach roiling nervously at the thought. Was that how he was occupying himself?

You suddenly pulled away, knowing that it wasn't the right time for a long, drawn out reunion and stepped back in line, in between Fred and George.

"What's going on?" He asks, turning to look upon the Weasley siblings. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured —"

"Ask Harry," says Fred, particularly bluntly, no doubt frustrated that he wasn't getting a solid answer. You watch as your dad turns to Harry, pulling him into a warm embrace, trying to get him to open up.

"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself," adds George.

"It was, I had a - a kind of - vision," he stutters, beginning to explain the vision in great detail. Throughout the retelling, you have to stop yourself for reaching out for Fred's hand multiple times, knowing that you can't in front of everyone.

"Is Mum here?" Fred asks, turning to your dad once Harry had explained everything. You watch as George's face fills with dread, apparently having not realised up to now that she wasn't present amongst you.

"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," explains your dad. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledores letting Molly know now."

"We've got to go to St Mungo's," says Ginny with a sense of urgency. You watch as she pauses, looking around all of you who are still dressed in your nightwear having been ripped from your beds not an hour before. 'Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything? Y/n?"

"Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St Mungo's!" Your dad says suddenly, eyes ablaze as if he's personally affronted by the suggestion. Your mouth opens immediately to protest but Fred manages to find the words first, his face stern.

"Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want, he's our dad!'" You can see how physically tense he's gotten, not taking very well to being told no by someone he didn't see as an authoritative figure, even if it was his girlfriend's dad.

"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?"

"What does that matter?" Adds George hotly, clearly thinking along the same lines as Fred, outraged at your dad's block.

"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!" Your dad replies angrily. "Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"

You reach out suddenly for Fred's hand, trying to ground him. The physical contact seems to pull him back to earth, preventing him from saying something he'd inevitably regret... or maybe not knowing Fred.

Ginny instead tries to offer alternatives in a much more grounded way, "Somebody else could have told us... we could have heard it somewhere other than Harry."

"Like who?" Your dad says impatiently with a sigh. "Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's-"

"We don't care about the dumb Order!'" Fred shouts, breaking away from your grip, as if it was holding him back. You're suddenly acutely aware that you are stuck in this awkward position, trapped between your dad and your secret boyfriend, hardly able to say anything to diffuse the situation. Your mouth physically hurts as you bite the inside of your cheek, finding it near impossible to keep out of it.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" George yells, mere seconds later.

"Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!" Your dad replies with as much force as he was receiving, "This is how it is - this is why you're not in the Order - you don't understand - there are things worth dying for!'

You're a second away from physically pulling Fred away, knowing that whatever the next words would be that came out of his mouth, they'd be harsh and venom-filled.

"Easy for you to say, stuck here!' bellows Fred. "I don't see you risking your neck!"

You watch in horror as your dad pales, the look in his eyes darkening and you know in that moment that he'd quite like to hit Fred, something you would not be allowing. You'd been quiet too long, allowed them both to get out their frustrations but you'd had enough of that. You wouldn't choose sides, wouldn't force either of them to comply or get along but for your sake you hoped they could at least be cordial. You'd take the brunt of their frustrations if you had to, just to diffuse the situation.

"Right that's enough," you say, finding the words escaping you before you could really think about what you're saying. "Dad get the kettle on," you say with a nod of your head, a small and very false smile playing on your lips. You turn to the twins, names Fred who looks positively mutinous, trying a much softer approach on them. You know if you reach for Fred right now he'll reject you and you couldn't deal with that so you fold your arms over your chest, looking up towards the towering twins.

"We need to wait for your mum, we'll all set up in the lounge to wait or Gin you can have my bedroom if you want," you offer, casting a glance at the youngest Weasley who looks sullen, shaking her head slightly, as you expected. "Just wait to hear from your mum and then we'll work out our next move okay?"

Fred doesn't relent as easy as George who nods after a few moments in understanding. Instead, Fred is still shooting daggers at your dad over your shoulder and you sigh, knowing he's stubborn as a mule. A few tense moments pass and you watch as his eyes suddenly flicker to yours and soften considerably before he nods in agreement.

"No milk," your dad says suddenly from behind, a look on his face somewhere between disgust and shame.

"Right, butterbeer it is then," you say, trying to redeem the situation, "it's in my bedroom." You shoot a look to your dad, knowing you can't do magic here and you were hardly ready to leave Fred and your dad alone again.

"Accio Butterbeer!" Your dad says, taking the lead. Immediately the bottles of butterbeer float across the room and your dad placed them into the table as you reach and distribute the drinks.

You all take your seats in the lounge surrounding the fire that had dwindled slightly since your arrival but with a single flick of his wand, your dad refreshes it.

Ginny takes the old armchair closest to the fire and curls herself up within it.

Harry and Ron take the two seater, the most uncomfortable seat you'd ever had the displeasure of experiencing and you watch with a barely concealed grin as Ron's face immediately conveys his regret as he takes a seat upon the torture device. You reach for a cushion and throw it towards him; hitting him square in the face but for once he doesn't care but instead smiles thankfully for the cushion, not that it would do much. George throws himself down into the sofa closest to Ginny's chair and Fred follows not far behind. You stay standing, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at intruding and begin to back away from the room until the fire suddenly crackles dangerously. There's a burst of light and you frown, hearing the round of gasps as a scroll of parchment flies out, accompanied by a familiar feather.

"Fawkes!" Your dad says, quickly marching into the room at the sudden disturbance, snatching up the parchment and pulling it close to his face. "That's not Dumbledore's writing - it must be a message from your mother - here."

He thrusts the letter into George's hand, who had jumped up anxiously at the sudden intrusion. George then ripped it open and read aloud for everyone to hear.

"Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum."

There's a dead silence that follows Molly's communication, each of you thinking the same thing.

"Still alive..." George says slowly. "But that makes it sound..."

Fred pulls the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looks up at Harry for a moment, before he looks back to the parchment.

"You should all go to bed and deal with it properly in the morning," your dad suggests and before you can deal with the inevitable onslaught from the Weasley kids, you pull your dad away back into the kitchen, feeling the hot stare of Fred burning a hole in your back.

"They're worried about their dad," you say, keeping your voice down so that they wouldn't hear you. "We'll just hole up in the lounge for the night."

"Y/n," your dad sighs but for some reason his attempt to disagree with you seems to anger you instantly.

"What would you do? Just go to bed and pretend nothings wrong?"

"Well I didn't care very much for my father," your dad begins to snark, forcing you to roll your eyes.

"Right, so maybe just pretend you can imagine what they're going through and just accept that they're hurting and need each other right now."

Your dad's eyes widen a little at your outburst but you don't back down, "you don't have to host us, go to bed if that's what you're concerned about, or back to your drink."

"Y/n Black!" Your father shouts but you don't flinch, knowing that you'd simply touched a nerve.

"I care about every single one of them in there, is it not just enough that I want them not to hurt? I care about Arthur too! Can you simply not understand that some people might actually be horrified at the thought of their father dying?"

His eye twitches at your words and you can tell he's considering the possible hidden meanings behind your words.

"Perhaps you care a little more for one of them," he snarks, unable to hold himself back. You see red immediately, only to be fuelled by your dad's following words. "Seems that you've absorbed his anger."

"He's not angry he's terrified!" You can't help it, the volume of your voice raising to match his. "Anyone would be in their situation! I'm sorry we're such a burden to you but the second we hear from Molly we'll be at St Mungo's out of your way."

"I didn't mean."

"No you never do," you say, averting your eyes and turning your body to walk back to the lounge.

"Y/n," your dad says, his tone suddenly back to normal if not sounding a little bit regretful. You sigh, tired and on edge, wanting nothing more than to just sit with your boyfriend and friends.

"You're a good friend to them," he says, trying to find words for the situation. Your nod slowly, the anger fading now as exhaustion washes over you.

"They're all I've had for a long time," you say, trying to avoid the sensitive topic of his imprisonment. "You're right about caring for them, and Fred above most. You're just seeing him on a bad night," you pause. "You know him and George stole the Marauders map from Filch's office in our first year?”

You watch as your dad's eyes light up in surprise, apparently never having been told this particular story.

"If you gave him a chance, on any normal day, I'm certain you'd love him."

"Do you?" Your dad asks gently, big brown eyes imploring your own. You frown, casting a look to the closed door that stood between you and the lounge, as if you'd see Fred through it.

You nod, getting more assured with every gentle movement of your head.

"I should get back," you say quietly, immediately feeling regret at the raised voices, not having expected your reunion to go like this.

When you step into the lounge, it's obvious that they had heard everything, though they all attempt to divert their eyes and look away to avoid making it too obvious but fail miserably. Fred's hand beckons you over and he pulls you into his lap, your head immediately resting on his shoulder, ignoring the shocked looks from Ron at the outward affection.

"Don't say anything," you whisper, looking at the flames of the fire instead of his face.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fred says gently, making you look towards his face, seeing his tired eyes and the tiny hint of a smile upon his face.

"You're comfy," you say, pressing your head into the curve of his shoulder and you can feel the movement of his little chuckle. Arthur stays at the forefront of your mind and you're certain that there's not a moment he's forgotten amongst his children as you look at them throughout the night.

At some point Fred falls asleep, his breathing evening out as his head lolls onto your shoulder with the new position. His hand is entwined with yours, acting like an anchor so he wouldn't float away with his spiralling thoughts, your legs resting over his much longer ones. George is asleep the other side of Fred, emitting quiet snores and jerking every now and then. Ginny doesn't sleep, you can see the reflection of the flames in her eyes as she stares blankly into nothing and you're unable to tell if Ron is asleep due to his head being in his hands, slumped over. You settle down, snuggling into Fred as the tiredness overtakes you and you hope that when you wake there will be better news.

You don't see or hear your dad step into the room an hour later, pausing as he looks upon his daughter cuddling up to who he assumes is her boyfriend. Instead of being angry or protective as he expected to feel, he feels a sense of calm as seeing her look peaceful in her sleep. He may not have had the best interaction with the Weasley boy but he knows Arthur and Molly, they seemed incapable of raising a bad one

[velarisdusk]

Breathe Out Your Sorrows

Day 28: Captivity | Azriel x Reader word count: 10k author's note: WHEW. this turned into so much more than i intended but i couldn’t stop writing, i loved this dark, sick azriel. LOVED him. this is part 2 to Breathe In the Quiet, my kinktober day 24 fic! you could prob still read this standalone and be fine though :) warning! there are a lot of really fucked up elements in this one. dub-con, knives, blood (this is not cute knifeplay with tiny cuts, this is an actual dangerous situation), manipulation, uhhh i think those are all the really bad ones ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

The first thing you felt was the cold. Icy, biting, and unrelenting. It seeped into your skin, clawing at your bones, making you shiver uncontrollably. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, lids heavy with exhaustion, and a wave of disorientation hit you like a crashing tide.

You weren’t in the market anymore.

Gone were the warm lights of Velaris, the bustle of the streets, the illusion of safety. Instead, damp stone surrounded you. The faintest glow from a torch flickered in the corner, casting dancing shadows against the rough, uneven walls of the dungeon. The air was thick with the scent of blood and decay, an overwhelming mixture of damp earth and something far more sinister.

Along the walls hung a collection of vicious instruments, as though they were nothing more than decoration—razor-sharp blades, iron clamps, whips with barbed ends, each more sinister than the last. A wooden rack stood in one corner, its handles worn smooth from countless struggles, while a table along the back wall was littered with tools designed for nothing short of pure agony. But the floor was disturbingly clean. No blood, no stains. An unsettling realization, as if the horrors here were scrubbed away with precision, leaving behind only the lingering sense of suffering and dread. 

A dull throb pulsed in your skull, each beat growing more insistent. You reached up to soothe the ache, but as you raised your arm, a sharp, cold sting bir into your wrists, yanking it back. Thick iron shackles clamped tight around your wrists and ankles, bolted to the floor, ensured there would be no escape. Despite the restraints, you still managed to touch the side of your head, feeling a warm, sticky wetness beneath your fingers. You pulled your hand away and peered down at it in the dim torchlight.

Blood.

Panic flared instantly, flooding your veins with adrenaline. Your breathing hitched as you tugged desperately at the restraints, the metallic clink of chains echoing through the chamber. The iron was heavy, and with every frantic jerk, they only tightened around your limbs, the cold steel bruising your skin.

Your heart thundered in your chest as your gaze darted around the room, frantic for any sign of an exit, any hope of escape. But there was none. No windows, no door. Only a narrow grate, no wider than your hand, carved into the stone for the thin wisps of smoke curling from the torch. The walls loomed around you, oppressive and unyielding. And then you felt it—the familiar, suffocating weight of being watched.

His presence curled through the room, heavy and suffocating. You couldn’t see him yet, but you knew. You knew Azriel was there, lurking just beyond the shadows, watching you struggle.

“Finally awake, little one?”

The voice slithered through the room, smooth and ominous. You froze, your blood running cold as his figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the dim light. Azriel stood there, tall and imposing, his wings partially unfurled behind him, casting long, ominous shadows across the dungeon floor.

He looked like a nightmare come to life. His dark hair was tousled, framing a face that was both beautiful and terrifying in its intensity. He wore a tailored suit, every line of it sharp, perfect. But it was his eyes—those cold, predatory eyes—that pinned you in place. The same eyes that had hunted you, stalked you through the streets of Velaris.

The same eyes that had caught you.

“You look so… delicate like this,” he murmured, his voice a low purr as he stepped closer, the clack of his boots against the stone floor deafening in the otherwise silent room. His shadows curled around him like living creatures, some slipping across the floor to circle you.

You swallowed hard, fear clawing at your throat, but you forced yourself to speak. “Why… why are you doing this?”

Azriel tilted his head, a slow, calculating smile curling on his lips as he crouched in front of you, his face mere inches from yours. His breath ghosted against your skin, sending a wave of cold dread washing over you. “Why?” he echoed, amusement flickering in his dark gaze. “Because I can. Because you’re mine.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs as you recoiled, trying to hurry back, but the short chains held you in the center of the room, your wrists aching as you strained against them. Azriel’s smile widened, a dark, twisted satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he watched you struggle.

“I’ve been watching you,” he whispered, his voice a silken caress that felt like poison dripping into your veins. “For so long. Waiting. And now…” He reached out, his fingers tracing a slow line down the side of your face. “Now you’re right where you belong.”

You flinched at his touch, cold against your skin, but there was nowhere to go. No escape. You were trapped. Helpless.

Azriel’s hand moved from your face to your throat, his fingers curling around it, not tight enough to choke but just enough to remind you how small you were compared to him, how weak. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke again, his voice dark and wicked. “You feel it, don’t you? That fear? That delicious, sweet terror that’s running through your veins right now?” Your breath hitched, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block him out.

“Look at me!” he bellowed, his voice sharp and dangerous as the hand clenched with terrifying force. 

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and what you saw made your stomach churn. His eyes were filled with hunger—a deep, insatiable hunger, like a panther poised to pounce on and devour a naive, unsuspecting doe. He was enjoying this. Enjoying your fear, your helplessness.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. “I can feel your heartbeat,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “It’s racing. You’re terrified, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard but didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The fear had lodged itself in your throat, choking you, paralyzing you.

Azriel’s lips curled into a wicked grin at your silence, and he let out a low, dark chuckle. “Good,” he whispered, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure as he pulled away to look you in the eyes. “I like it when you’re scared.”

His hand finally left your throat, and you let out a shaky breath, but it was short-lived. 

Azriel stood from his crouched position and circled you slowly, his shadows crawling over your skin, sliding up your arms, wrapping around your legs—until one slipped beneath your dress. You jolted, hands flying to press the fabric between your legs. This only made him chuckle as his shadows merely circled your limbs tighter. His voice was hushed, a dark whisper, like he was savoring this moment, drawing it out just to watch you squirm. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he began, his eyes darkening with a hunger that made your skin crawl. “How many nights I watched you. How many times I imagined this exact moment. You, helpless. Mine.”

He stopped a few paces away from you, his gaze never leaving yours as he rested a hand in his pocket. “I was patient. So patient. Waiting, watching, until the time was right. Gods, you’d always smile at everyone, walk the streets so innocently, so ignorantly. You didn’t have a clue what was going on around you,” his subsequent laugh echoed with something chilling and unhinged. “So many times I’ve had to kill them. Those males who thought they could have you. Creeping toward you in the shadows—my shadows—thinking you were alone. They had no idea I was watching. None of them ever saw me coming.” 

Your blood ran cold. No… that couldn’t be true. You would’ve known, right? But you realized with a sickening twist in your gut that there had been moments—those unsettling, unexplained feelings, eyes on your back…

“I was always so close—taking care of you. And you never had any idea.” 

His fingers brushed against something in his pocket, and your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him toy with it. “I could’ve taken you anytime. But where’s the fun in that? I wanted you to feel it, to understand your helplessness against someone like me.” His lips curled into a dark smile as he pulled his hand out—slowly, methodically— and held up a necklace. “Now you’ll know. Now, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”

He dangled the necklace from a single finger, and a wave of nausea rolled through you when you recognized it. It was the one you’d admired at the market—only now, the gemstones adorning the pendant had been replaced with ones of the deepest blue. 

“You were looking at this, weren’t you?” he murmured, lifting the dainty chain slightly to let the light catch on the dark stones. “I went back and bought it for you. Thought I’d make it… better.”

Your stomach twisted as you stared at the necklace, the weight of his obsession sinking in. This wasn’t a gift. This was a symbol of control disguised as one—a mark of ownership.

Azriel’s fingers brushed over the pendant as he knelt before you and fastened the thin chain around your neck, his touch lingering a little too long, a little too intimately. “It suits you,” he whispered, satisfied. “Like it was always meant to be yours.” 

His gaze lingered, dark and possessive, and it was painfully clear—he wasn’t just talking about the necklace. The way his eyes gleamed with triumph told you everything. He believed you were meant to be his.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Azriel seemed to sense your defiance, and his smile turned sharp, dangerous. “Oh, sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice a low purr that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Do you really think you can fight me? Resist me?”

He reached for your chin, tilting your head up to force you to meet his gaze. “I could break you so easily,” he whispered, his voice soft, almost tender, but the malice behind it was unmistakable. “You’d shatter like glass in my hands, and you’d love every second of it.”

His thumb brushed over your lower lip, and you couldn’t conceal the trembling breath that followed. “You feel that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a silken caress that taunted you, that sent a wave of heat pooling in your stomach. “You’re finally beginning to understand just how fragile you are. How the weight of your fate rests in my hands.”

You bit your lip, refusing to respond, refusing to give him what he wanted. But Azriel wasn’t deterred.

“If you submit,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, “I might be kind. I can make you feel things you’ve never felt before. The good kind,” he added with a smirk, the warmth not quite reaching his eyes.

You shook your head, a soft whimper escaping your lips, and Azriel’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. “Ah,” he said with wonder. 

He stood, his shadowy wings unfurling slightly behind him as he towered over you, his presence suffocating. “Don’t worry,” he purred, his voice laced with cruelty. “We have all the time in the world for you to learn your place.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, his words pressing down like a heavy stone. The room seemed to close in around you, the thick shadows at the edges of the chamber whispering as if they were alive.

“Fuck you,” you spat, your voice hoarse but defiant, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself. 

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, dark amusement flickering behind them. “Oh, you still have some fight left in you?” His lips curled into a dangerous smile, his hand moving with deliberate slowness, a wordless assertion of his dominance. “I expected this. I want you to submit. I want you to be my well-behaved little angel. But breaking you is when I get my real fun.” 

With a subtle tilt of his head, the shackles clicked open, replaced by his shadows that coiled around you like a vice. They lifted you effortlessly to your feet and pressed you against the cold stone wall, stretching your limbs taut against its unforgiving surface. You squirmed in an attempt to break free, to pull away from the wall, but their icy grip held firm, biting into your skin with a chilling intensity.  

“You think you can resist me?” His voice was like velvet, smooth and dark. “Do you think defiance will protect you from what’s coming?”

Your lips parted, a snarl forming, but Azriel was faster. In an instant, he was inches from your face, his hand shooting out to grip your jaw with a bruising hold, forcing your gaze to lock with his. The intensity in his eyes sent your heart racing, a sickening mixture of fear and something else you refused to acknowledge settling deep in your gut.

“I know what you want,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath between you, yet it wrapped around your senses like a noose. "I can feel it—the fear, the rage, the way your body responds to me, even when your mind screams at you to fight." His thumb pressed against your lower lip, forcing it to part as his grip tightened. "Tell me... do you hate me for making you feel this way?"

Your breath hitched, the words catching in your throat. You wanted to scream at him, curse him for the torment, for the twisted thrill that pulsed through your veins despite yourself. But he gave you no time to respond before he released your jaw, his hand sliding down your throat to the delicate chain resting there.

“Your silence speaks volumes,” he continued, his voice thick with condescension as his fingers ghosted over your collarbone, trailing the elegant fabric of your dress that clung to your form. “But I’m going to get you to say it, one way or another.”

He stepped back, his wings casting dark shadows across the room as he moved with an unsettling grace. The tension built, thick and suffocating, as his hands came to rest on the waistband of his leathers. His gaze never left yours, a cruel spark igniting in the depths of his eyes as he undid the ties with deliberate slowness.

"I could break you," he murmured, his voice deceptively soft. "It wouldn’t take much. Some pain, just a touch of pleasure." You felt the burn of humiliation bloom on your cheeks, your pulse hammering wildly in your ears as you caught sight of the sizeable bulge forming beneath his pants. "I could have you begging in no time. Soon enough, you’ll forget what it felt like to resist."

You clenched your jaw, fighting the panic that rose in your chest. You wanted to scream at him, to lash out, but your body betrayed you. A shiver sparked at your core, unwelcome and traitorous, tangled with the terror gripping your heart.

Azriel noticed. Of course, he noticed.

"See?" His voice was a dark purr, and he took a step closer, his body nearly flush with yours. "I don’t even have to touch you to get this reaction. You can hate me all you want, but your body… your body already knows who it belongs to."

“Fuck… you,” you managed to bite out, the tremor in your voice betraying the very defiance you clung to.

Azriel’s hands shot out, grabbing the fabric of your dress and tearing it effortlessly, the soft material falling away like paper. A sharp gasp escaped you as the cold air hit your bare skin, and you instinctively pulled back, only for the frigid wall behind you to meet your skin, as cold and unyielding as the look in his eyes.

“Oh, I think that’s exactly what you want,” he growled, his hand tracing the curve of your waist, the lightness of his touch mocking the brutality he’d just shown. “But I’m not going to make it that easy for you, angel.”

His shadows slithered across your exposed skin, cool and teasing, as they wound around your thighs and waist, keeping you completely at his mercy. With a fluid motion, Azriel shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it aside. You couldn’t focus on how he managed it, what with the wings; all that mattered was how good he looked, the crisp white dress shirt clinging to his muscular frame. As he rolled up the sleeves, revealing his forearms, your breath hitched. The taut skin, adorned with swirling tattoos, made your pulse race, a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you.  Azriel leaned in, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear as his voice turned dark, a silken whisper tainted with cruelty.

“You’re going to beg for it,” he murmured. “And when you do, I’ll decide whether or not you’ve earned it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the stubborn fire in your eyes flickering back to life despite the overwhelming fear gripping you. “I’ll never beg,” you hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at him with all the fury you could muster. “Not for you. Not for anything.”

Azriel’s smirk widened, amusement dancing in his gaze. He straightened, his enormous wings flaring behind him as he studied you with a predatory glint, as though your refusal was nothing more than a trivial obstacle he intended to crush.

“Oh, angel…” He purred. The shadows around him thickened, swirling like smoke, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop, a chill creeping up your spine. Azriel stepped back, his fingers flexing at his sides before one hand slowly reached for the hilt on his thigh. “You’ll be begging,” he continued, his tone colder now, devoid of any false gentleness. His hand curled around the handle of a sleek, dark blade, glinting ominously in the low light as he pulled it free. “You will. You’ll beg me to fuck you if only to end the torment I’m about to put you through.”

Your heart stopped at the sight of the blade, its edge sharp enough to gleam even in the dim dungeon light. You fought to maintain your composure, but the icy grip of dread was tightening around your throat. 

Azriel twirled the dagger in his hand with ease, the weapon seeming to pulse with the same lethal energy as its wielder. His eyes sparkled with sadistic delight as he held the blade, admired it. “This,” he said, his voice a whisper of silk and steel, “is Truth-Teller. Her name suits her well. She has a reputation for exposing secrets—cutting through lies to reveal what lies beneath.”

He stepped closer, the dagger’s dark metal almost shimmering with a life of its own. You swallowed hard. 

“Still so sure of yourself?” he mocked, his voice dripping with condescension. “Still think you won’t break, angel?” He stopped just ahead of you, the tip of Truth-Teller coming to rest under your chin, tilting your head up with a featherlight touch that belied the threat behind it.

“I’ve broken countless souls—people stronger, more stubborn than you.” His smile was cruel, the sharp edge of his sadism glinting in his gaze. “You’ll be no different.”

Your breath came in shallow gasps, your pulse roaring in your ears as the cold steel kissed the skin beneath your jaw. You wanted to fight back, to scream, but the primal instinct of survival kept you frozen in place.

Azriel leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Where should I start?”

And without warning, he pressed the blade against the side of your neck, just enough to let the edge bite into your skin. A sharp, stinging pain flared as the first drop of blood trickled down your throat. You gasped, your body tensing, but Azriel’s shadows held you fast, refusing to let you move even as the blade moved lower, tracing a slow path along your collarbone. 

“You’ll never beg, hm?” he mused aloud. Your mind raced, a storm of panic and adrenaline flooding your senses as the blade dipped lower, grazing the delicate skin of your chest. The shadows around your wrists tightened yet again, your fingers tingling with numbness.

“Azriel—” you gasped, your voice trembling with fear and rage, but he only smiled. 

“As much as I love the sound of my name on your tongue… Beg,” he demanded, the word sharp and cold as the blade’s edge.

“I won’t,” you spat, even as the tears burned at the corners of your eyes. “I won’t give you the satisfaction, you sick bastard.”

His gaze intensified, a storm of fury and sadistic pleasure swirling within their depths. “You will.”

Azriel held your gaze as he slid the dagger’s handle between his teeth in a chilling display of confidence. The blade glinted ominously as he leaned closer. With a swift movement, he reached for the delicate fabric of your bra. The sound of tearing echoed in the dim space, sharp and final, as he pulled it apart. You gasped, shock and humiliation flooding your senses as you watched it fall to the ground. His hands moved down to your underwear, and with the same brutal efficiency, he tore it away—leaving your dignity in shreds along with it.

The chill of the air against your most sensitive skin only heightened the horror of the situation, but Azriel wasn’t done. He grabbed the dagger and stepped back slightly, his wings creating a dark silhouette behind him as he admired you with a twisted sense of satisfaction. 

“Still so stubborn.” He traced the blade across your abdomen now, a thin red line left in its wake. “A shame, really. All this pride, and no one here to see it stripped away.” He pressed the tip of the dagger into your side, just enough to draw blood, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your throat.

“There it is,” Azriel groaned, his tone full of sick pleasure. “I love the pretty little sounds you make.” Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your mind spinning as he pulled the dagger away, your blood staining its dark edge. Vision blurring with tears, the fear and pain radiating through you overwhelmed your senses. You fought against the sob that threatened to escape, biting your lip until you tasted blood, but Azriel was relentless. 

He stood flush against you now, his dark wings curling protectively around the both of you, creating an intimate cocoon as he raised the blade once more. 

"You can stop this," he whispered, his tone almost gentle as if he were offering you salvation. "All you have to do is beg me. Say it. Tell me what I want to hear."

Your body trembled, every fiber of your being screaming at you to give in, to make the pain stop before it got worse. But even as your eyes stung, even as your heart raced with terror, you clenched your jaw, forcing the words past your lips.

“Go… to hell.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “Oh, angel,” he purred, his hand caressing your cheek in mock affection. “I really wish you hadn’t said that.”

In an instant, he thrust Truth-Teller into your thigh, the pain exploding through you like a lightning strike. A choked scream tore from your lips as the cold steel pierced your flesh, a searing heat radiating from the wound. The shock sent your vision spiraling, the world around you dimming as you fought against the pain that clawed at your senses. Glancing down, you saw the dagger embedded shallowly, crimson oozing from the wound and trickling down your leg. You desperately hoped it hadn’t struck anything vital; he likely wouldn’t want to kill you—not yet. Dragging this out seemed far more his style. When he pulled the dagger out, more blood trickled down your leg, the warmth mixing with the sharp agony and flooding your body with a dizzying rush.

Azriel watched you with a dark satisfaction, his gaze never leaving yours as you writhed against the restraints, your body trembling. He leaned in closer, the dagger still gleaming with your blood.

“There it is,” he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “That’s the sound I’ve been waiting for.”

The agony radiated through you, a white-hot flame that ignited every nerve ending. You gasped for breath, trying to steady yourself against the sharp edge of the pain, but Azriel’s presence only deepened the ache. You gritted your teeth, refusing to show any further weakness. But as the pain began to ebb, something else took hold—an unsettling awareness of him, the predatory gleam in his eyes igniting a twisted sense of anticipation.

With a twisted smile, he pressed the blade lightly against your lips, enjoying the way you instinctively recoiled. “Let’s make this a bit more personal, shall we?” he taunted. “Open up for me.”

You hesitated, but the cruel glint in his eyes forced your mouth open. He wiped the blade clean on your tongue, dragging it along the moist surface before pulling it away, leaving you to taste the metallic sting of your own blood. 

“Look at you,” he purred, his voice thick with amusement as his hand slid between your thighs, close but not quite touching. “Trying so hard to resist me. But I bet you’re dripping for me already. If I checked right now, you’d just soak my fingers, wouldn’t you?” His thumb grazed the sensitive skin near your core, and your hips jerked involuntarily, a choked sound escaping your throat before you could stop it, and Azriel’s dark laugh sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

“Oh, don’t be ashamed,” he taunted, pressing his thumb against your clit now, circling slowly, torturously. “You can’t help it. You want this—you want me. As much as you hate it, your body knows what it wants.”

You couldn’t help the desperate whimper that escaped your lips, the humiliation of it sending a flush of heat through your cheeks. You hated him for this, for kidnapping you, for torturing you, for stabbing you; for turning your own body against you, for making you want him even when every fiber of your being screamed that this was wrong.

But that was the worst part—you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want the game to end.

Azriel’s lips ghosted over your throat, his shadows slithering their way up your arms and legs, wrapping around you like a dark caress. “I told you,” he purred, his voice as smooth as silk, “I’ll break you. And when I do, you’ll thank me for it.”

His hand slipped lower, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that tore from your throat as he finally plunged his fingers deep inside you with cruel precision. You arched against him, the pleasure overwhelming, but he wasn’t gentle. His pace was brutal and relentless, and you were caught between the pain and the pleasure, your body trembling as you fought against the wave crashing over you.

“Azriel—” His name slipped from your lips before you could stop it, and you saw the dark gleam of victory in his golden eyes as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear.

“That’s it, angel,” he whispered, histone one of dark satisfaction. “Say my name. Let me hear you beg for more.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him that satisfaction again. But he only laughed, the sound dark and twisted, as he pulled his fingers away just as you grew accustomed to them.

“You ignoring me now?” he growled, gripping your chin to force your gaze back to him. The scent of your arousal lingered on his fingers and ebbed through the room.

A twisted grin crept onto his lips, and you could see the darkness swirling in his eyes. “You want me to get a bigger knife?” he taunted, letting the question linger in the air, heavy and menacing.

“No, no, no!” The words escaped your lips in a frantic rush, panic flooding your veins. “Please, Azriel, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he interrupted, his tone dripping with mockery. “Don’t give you what you deserve? You think I’m being too cruel? You asked for this, angel. You put yourself in my hands.”

“I didn’t put myself anywhere!” you screamed, your voice breaking under the weight of your rage and fear and pain. “You stole me away! This isn’t my choice, it’s yours!”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, his grin vanishing as something colder, sharper settled over his expression. His grip on your chin tightened. “Choice?” he echoed, voice soft but filled with venom. “You think you’d choose anything different if you knew what was good for you?”

He leaned closer, his gaze holding yours captive, his breath brushing your cheek. “You’ve belonged to me far longer than you realize, angel. There’s no choice in that—no escape.” His fingers traced along your jaw, deceptively gentle, before he wiped his slick fingers clean across your lips and cheeks, smearing it on your skin. 

“Keep telling yourself this isn’t what you want,” he murmured, turning away from you, the hint of a challenge in his voice. “I’ll go all the way back to Velaris for a few days, take care of some things. It should give you some time to think things over. How’s that sound?”

All the way back to Velaris. The words echoed in your mind, sinking like stones in your stomach. He’d brought you far enough that he was confident that not a soul would come looking. The High Lord couldn’t have sent for this. He couldn’t know. What would he say if he did? What would he do if he realized that one of his most trusted had taken a civilian, had hidden her away in some forsaken cell beyond reach, beyond hope? All for what—so he could use and abuse you? 

“A little quiet now, hm? What’s wrong, angel?” he called over his shoulder, his tone almost casual as he fastened his pants back up. 

“...Don’t go…” The words slipped from your lips, barely more than a whisper, fragile and small. You didn’t want him to leave you here alone, hurt and bleeding. The thought of being abandoned in this cold, dark place twisted your insides with fear. What if he didn’t come back? What if you were left to suffer without food or water, trapped in silence with your pain?

Azriel paused mid-step, a smirk playing at his lips as he turned to face you, his eyes glinting with delight. “What was that?” His voice was low and smooth, wrapping around you like a shroud.

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. “...Don’t go,” the plea escaped you, trembling with desperation. 

His smile widened, satisfaction radiating from him as he stepped closer, invading your space. “Oh? A sudden change of heart…” His tone dripped with mockery, and he leaned in, his gaze piercing. “You want me to stay? You’d rather have me keep hurting you than be alone?”

You held your breath, heart racing as you struggled to take your mind off the wound in your thigh. “I—I just…” You couldn’t find the words, your mind a whirlpool of fear and longing. 

“You’re helpless without me,” he continued. “Lost, just a little thing waiting for someone to take care of you. Who else would keep you company, hm? Who else would make sure you’re protected and safe?”

“I don’t want you to hurt me anymore,” you choked out against your dry throat, desperation coating each word. “You’ve made your point. Just don’t leave me here. I can’t… I can’t be alone like this.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow, a predatory grin spreading across his face. “Are you sure? You sure you don’t need me to hurt you some more to knock some sense into you?” He casually placed his hand back on the hilt of his dagger, a glint of menace in his eyes.

Your heart plummeted, a heavy stone of dread sinking into your chest as you registered his movement. Panic surged through your veins like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending. You thrashed against the restraints, your breath quickening, pulling against the shadows as you fought for release. “No, no! Please, don’t do it!” The words came out as a desperate wail, raw and fractured, tears streaming down your cheeks as you grappled with the overwhelming fear of what was to come. “I can’t—please! I’ll do anything! Just don’t hurt me again!”

He stepped closer, cradling your face with his hand, his thumb brushing away your tears with a disarming tenderness that twisted your insides. “Easy now, angel. Calm down. It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice a soft lullaby laced with a dark undercurrent that made your heart race in terror and confusion. “You’re safe with me.”

As he spoke, his warmth enveloped you, a strange comfort that made your breathing steady, even as dread coiled in your stomach. You fought against the whirlwind of emotions, struggling to process the truth of his words.

“Now, if you don’t want me to hurt you,” he said, his tone honeyed, “you’ll have to tell me what you do want.”

You hesitated, a lump of shame and fear forming in your throat. “I want… to be left alone. I want you to let me go.”

He shook his head slowly, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “I know you’re lying. The smell of your arousal has been thick in this room since you woke up.” His gaze bore into yours, challenging you to deny the truth.

“Tell me again, what do you want?” he pressed, his tone deceptively sweet.

You swallowed hard, the truth clawing its way to the surface, a torrent of shame and desperate longing. “I want you to touch me.”

His grip on your jaw tightened, rough and possessive, holding you in place as he leaned in closer. “Now, that’s not how you ask for things, is it?”

“Please…” The word fell from your lips, fragile and yearning, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the monster before you.

“Try again,” he urged, eyes dark with hunger, his anticipation palpable in the air between you.

“Please,” you repeated, your voice trembling. “I want you to touch me. I need you to touch me.”

With each plea, the desperation clawed at your insides. Maybe if you just told him what he wanted to hear… “I want your hands on my skin,” you gasped, shame mingling with need. “I want you to make me feel good—please, Azriel.”

“Please, I need you,” you cried, your voice cracking. “I want to feel you inside of me, I want you to make me feel good. I want you to use me, to claim me.”

“Make me yours,” you begged, each word spilling out in a desperate rush of heat as you struggled against the shadows binding your arms away from him. “I want to feel you, every inch of you. Please, just touch me, fill me up… I want to be yours, completely.”

A heavy silence enveloped you, the air thick with tension as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. Time stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity, and your heart raced, dread and anticipation swirling within you. Just when you thought you might break under his gaze, he spoke, his voice laced with wonder.

“I knew you’d come around,” he said, a dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “I always knew you were a smart girl.”

With that, his hands descended, fingers brushing against your skin with deliberate slowness, teasing the edges of your vulnerability. He traced the outline of your breasts, his touch both electrifying and infuriating, each caress igniting a fire within you. You arched your back instinctively, desperate for more, but he only chuckled, enjoying the game.

“Tell me, angel,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry, “how do you want to feel? What do you want me to do?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, trapped by the heat coursing through you.

A flicker of impatience crossed his face, and in an instant, his hand connected with your cunt, a sharp slap that sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure through you. “Answer me,” he demanded, voice sharp and commanding.

“Please, Azriel!” you gasped, urgency flooding your voice. “I want you to touch me, to make me feel everything.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his fingers now exploring, slipping between your thighs, brushing against your slick folds. His touch was both gentle and ruthless, a dance of pleasure that made your heart pound. He took his time, reveling in the way your body responded to him, the way you quivered under his touch.

His fingers played with your clit, circling and teasing, drawing out soft whimpers from your lips. “Feel that? This is what you wanted all along.” He watched you intently, his gaze drinking in every reaction, every twitch of your body.

“Now tell me again,” he coaxed, pressing deeper, his fingers sinking into you, “what do you want?”

Your voice failed you as a loud, throaty moan pushed past your lips instead.

“Beautiful, but not quite what I’m looking for,” he said, his tone mocking as he delivered another sharp slap to your sensitive heat, making you cry out. “I need to hear you say it. What do you want, my angel?”

“I want to feel you inside me!” you sobbed, the words spilling out in a rush. “Please, Azriel, I want you to fuck me!”

“There you go,” he murmured, a smile more beautiful than eerie spreading across his face—the first like it that you’d seen from him. His fingers curled inside you, coaxing and pushing you closer to the edge. His other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you steady as your foreheads met, neither of you looking away from the other for a moment. The intensity of his gaze anchored you, making every pulse of sensation feel more profound, more consuming. 

He pumped his fingers into you with a brutal urgency, each thrust deep and unyielding. The force of his movements sent shockwaves through your body, the slick sound of his fingers pumping into you filled the air, drowning out your whimpers and gasps as he worked you. 

Azriel added a third finger, the sensation igniting a fire in your core that was impossible to ignore. His fingertips pressed against that sensitive spot deep inside, hitting it with punishing precision that made you gasp and writhe. 

“Look at you,” he growled, voice thick with satisfaction as he watched your face contort between pleasure and pain. “So eager for it, so ready to fall apart for me.” He quickened the pace, fingers jackhammering in and out of you, but it was his words that pushed you over the edge. A wave of heat surged through you, igniting every nerve ending with a ferocity that eclipsed the sharp ache in your leg. Your body clenched around his fingers, a pulsing rhythm that felt primal and consuming.

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and sardonic as he watched you come down from your high. “Oh, sweet girl,” he tutted, amusement in his eyes.  “You’ll learn not to cum without my permission, don’t worry. I’ll be here to train you, we’ll have plenty of time to go over all my rules.”

His words washed over you like a distant echo, the remnants of your climax still vibrating through your body. All you could think about was how you wanted—needed—to touch him, to feel him against your skin. You squirmed against the shadows, desperation clawing at you as you met his gaze, wide and pleading. “Please… can I touch you?”

He leaned in with a predatory glint in his eyes. “Oh, you want to touch me, do you?” The way he said it was almost a taunt, and your heart raced at the thought of being freed from your restraints.

“Yes! Please, I need to feel you.” Your voice was thick with desperation, the aching longing for him driving every word. “Just let me… I promise I’ll be good.”

He regarded you for a long moment, the air between you thick with tension. Finally, he leaned back slightly, fingers still curled around the back of your neck, and considered your request. “If I let you, you have to promise to follow my lead, to obey. One step out of line and it’s right back–”

You nodded fervently, heat filling you once more at the idea of being able to touch him. “I promise! I’ll do whatever you say.”

His gaze locked onto yours, the predatory glint in his eyes making your heart race as he weighed your request. The silence stretched between you, heavy with anticipation. Finally, he made his decision, a smirk ghosting over his lips. With a flick of his wrist, the shadows binding you retreated, and you let out a shaky breath, relief flooding your senses. But before you could fully regain your balance, he caught you, his strength effortlessly cradling you against him as your injured leg buckled beneath you.

“Easy there,” he murmured, his voice mellow. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the table against the far wall. The shadows surged around him, sweeping aside the array of wicked instruments scattered across its surface, clearing the space just for you. With a gentle yet firm motion, he laid you down, the coolness of the surface contrasting sharply against the heat radiating from your skin.

He climbed over you, his body a delicious weight, as he closed the distance between you. The first brush of his lips against yours ignited a wildfire of sensations, overwhelming you in a rush of heat and longing. He kissed you with a hunger that felt almost desperate, devouring you with a need that matched your own. His mouth moved against yours, slow at first, savoring the taste of your lips.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “I can still taste you.”

From when he wiped his fingers over your mouth earlier, you realized. With that, he pulled away and off the table, his dark eyes glimmering with satisfaction. Azriel pulled you closer to the edge of the table, wrapping your legs around his head with a possessive grip.

He wasted no time, his mouth on you like a starved male. His tongue flicked and danced, eager to taste you, and you gasped at the sudden rush of sensation. The warmth of his mouth enveloped you, sending ripples of pleasure coursing through your core. He licked with fervor, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pulled you closer, encouraging you to let go, to surrender completely to the ecstasy he was offering.

Every flick of his tongue, every hungry suck sent your mind spiraling, drowning in a sea of pleasure and need. The world around you faded, leaving only the intense sensations as he feasted on you, the sound of your pleasure echoing off the cold stone walls.

“Azriel…” you gasped, the name escaping your lips like a prayer, urging him on as you pressed your body closer to him, craving more, needing more. His name continued to fall from your lips like a desperate plea, each syllable laced with urgency as he continued his relentless assault. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the overwhelming pleasure almost blinding. His mouth worked with an insatiable hunger, devouring you with every flick and thrust of his tongue.

The sensations were electrifying, the way he alternated between teasing and consuming you. He knew exactly how to draw out your pleasure, his tongue dancing against you with skillful precision, making you writhe beneath him. You could hardly focus on anything else, each pull and lick sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, muffling the pain from your stab wound into a dull throb.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly against your skin. “So responsive. So eager for more.” His breath was hot against you, the sound of his satisfaction fueling your desire even further.

“Please,” you begged, your voice full of desperation and need. “I can’t… I can’t hold on much longer.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich with satisfaction, and the vibration sent shivers coursing through you. “Good. I want you to let go.” His words ignited a fire deep within you, pushing you closer to the precipice.

Just as the tension peaked, the sensation reached a fever pitch, he pulled back slightly, leaving you teetering on the brink. “What’s wrong? Can’t you take it?” His eyes sparkled with wicked delight, and his face glistened with your arousal.

“Azriel! Don’t stop—please, just don’t stop!” You thrashed against the table, the need clawing at you, the ache for release nearly unbearable.

He smirked, the dark glimmer in his eyes promising more. “That’s better. But you know the rules now. You have to ask nicely.”

“Please, please… I need to cum,” you whimpered, your hands threading through his hair, desperate for his touch. “I want to feel you make me cum. I need you, Azriel. Please, can I cum?”

His fingers gripped your thighs even tighter, pressing down just enough to keep you from squirming. “Such a good girl,” he cooed, and with a wicked grin, he dove back in, his mouth devouring you once more. The combination of his roughness and your desperate need for release was intoxicating, and you felt the pressure build within you again, faster this time, more intense.

As he continued his relentless ministrations, the world around you faded into a blur. You could feel the walls closing in, the sensation of the table beneath you fading into insignificance as you focused solely on him, on the way his mouth worked against you, pulling you back to that dizzying height of pleasure.

Then, without warning, he pulled away again, leaving you gasping and trembling, the edge tantalizingly out of reach. “Not yet,” he said, the corners of his lips twitching upward as he watched you writhe in frustration.

“Why are you doing this?” you cried, the frustration mingling with need, desperate tears prickling at your eyes.

“Because, angel,” he replied languidly, “you need to learn patience. And how to ask for what you want.”

Your heart raced, every fiber of your being screaming for release as you met his gaze, desperation clawing at your insides. You could feel the weight of his dark satisfaction pressing down on you, but beneath that, there was a flicker of hope. Maybe if you asked just right…

“Azriel…” you breathed, your voice soft and trembling. “Please… I want to feel you inside me. I need to cum so badly. I’ll be so good for you, I promise.” You let the sweetness of your tone wrap around your words, pouring all your need into that one plea. “Just let me cum, please. I need to feel that pleasure with you. I want you, all of you.”

He paused, his expression shifting as he seemed to consider your request. The intensity of his gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world outside faded into oblivion. “Such a sweet little thing,” he mused, and the praise sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you.

“Please,” you whispered again, your voice barely more than a breath. “Let me cum. I promise I’ll be good.”

The moment hung heavy in the air, charged with unspoken promises and desires. Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, he nodded. “I know what you’re doing, angel, using your words so sweetly like that. But I think you’ve earned it.”

With a swift, fluid motion, he buried his mouth against you once more, his tongue working with renewed intensity as he coaxed your pleasure to the forefront. The tension built rapidly, spiraling out of control as your body instinctively moved against him, chasing that elusive high.

“Yes! Just like that!” you gasped, every nerve ending alight as he pushed you closer to the edge, his fingers burying themselves into you with a fervor that left you breathless. The world narrowed down to the sensation of him, of the way he moved and the heat building within you.

And then, with a sharp, electrifying pull, the dam broke. Pleasure washed over you in a wild, chaotic wave, crashing against your senses as you cried out his name. Your body shuddered, the culmination of all your need flooding through you, eclipsing everything else until there was nothing but the sweet release and the aching satisfaction that followed.

As the last ripples of your orgasm faded, you were left breathless and trembling, the heat still coursing through your veins. But Azriel wasn’t finished. He pulled back, a wicked smile curling at his lips, his gaze dark and hungry as he climbed over you, positioning himself between your legs.

“Now that you’re warmed up,” he said, his voice thick with desire, “let’s see how well you can take me.”

As the last ripples of your orgasm faded, you were left breathless and trembling, the heat still coursing through your veins. But Azriel wasn’t finished. He leaned back, a wicked smile curling at his lips, his gaze dark and hungry as he slowly began to undress.

First, he kicked off his shoes, the soft thud echoing in the silence. You couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him as he moved, the muscles in his legs shifting beneath the fabric of his pants. He took care in unbuttoning his dress shirt, each click of the buttons amplifying the anticipation thrumming in the air.

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes widening as you took in the sight of him. His chest was sculpted, muscles taut and defined, each movement revealing the intricate patterns of tattoos that snaked over his shoulders and down his arms. The sharp angles of his physique made you ache with want, your gaze lingering on the way the light danced across his skin.

As he peeled away the shirt and tossed it aside, he moved to his pants, unzipping them with a languid grace. The fabric slipped down his hips, revealing the strong contours of his thighs. You felt your pulse quicken, heart racing as your eyes finally landed on the impressive sight of him, bare and completely unrestrained. His sheer size stole your breath, a wave of longing washing over you as you imagined how he would fill you.

You felt a rush of excitement and fear as he climbed over you and aligned himself, the heat radiating between your bodies igniting your skin.

With a low growl, Azriel pressed forward, pushing the tip of himself into you, already stretching you more than you were used to. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, pleasure mixing with discomfort as your body struggled to accommodate him. He pulled back slightly, teasing you, as if savoring the tension.

“Easy now,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, “you’ll get used to it.” With each slow push, he sank deeper, relentless and rough, forcing you to adjust to his size, leaving you gasping and craving more. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of ecstasy and pain as he filled you, inch by agonizing inch.

Finally, with a deep, powerful thrust, he bottomed out, burying himself fully inside you. The stretch was almost unbearable, a burning sensation that made you feel both full and utterly consumed. Your body clenched around him instinctively, desperate to accommodate the fullness he brought.

“Look at you,” he breathed, voice low and thick with satisfaction, “taking me like a good girl.” His hips rolled, pressing deeper, and you moaned involuntarily, the mixture of pleasure and pain making your head spin. “I knew you’d love this,” he continued, eyes glinting with a wicked delight. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

As he began to thrust, each movement was deliberate, the rhythm punishing. “You feel so good wrapped around me,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips, anchoring you in place. He punctuated his words with another deep thrust, your body responding to his dominance, the sensation igniting a fire deep within you. “Now tell me how much you love it,” he demanded, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned closer, his voice dripping with authority. “Say it, angel. Tell me you’re mine.”

As he filled you completely, your body began to adjust, each thrust pushing you further into a haze of pleasure. You met his gaze, the defiance in your eyes having burnt out long ago. “I’m—I’m yours,” you replied breathlessly. 

Azriel thrust harder, forcing a moan from you. “You’ll learn to love this, to love being mine.” His voice dripped with arrogance, and you hated how much you wanted to agree. “See how easy this is? Just give in and let me take care of you.”

With each thrust, he buried himself deeper, filling you to the hilt, and your body began to instinctively arch against him, craving every rough, delicious inch. “You feel that?” he taunted, his voice thick with pleasure. “You were made for me, for this. You’ll come to crave it, just as I do.”

“Azriel…” you gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding your body. He pulled back, almost all the way out, just to plunge back in, the force of him making your breath hitch.

Azriel's voice dropped to a low growl as he continued to thrust into you, each movement powerful and precise. “You’re going to learn what it means to truly belong to someone, to be mine,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “Every inch of you will be devoted to me, and I’ll teach you how to crave my touch.”

“Please,” you breathed, desperate for more.

He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through you. “You’ll see, angel. From now on, every moment of your life will revolve around my needs and desires. You’ll wake up thinking of me, and when you’re not with me, you’ll ache for me.” He thrust deeper, punctuating his words with each deliberate movement. “You’ll be begging for my attention, begging for me to touch you, and you’ll learn to love every second of it.”

You could feel the heat pooling within you, the way his words curled around your mind, mixing with the sensations he was drawing out of you. “But what if I don’t?” you challenged, your voice trembling with a mix of defiance and need.

His smirk widened, eyes gleaming with a predatory intensity. “Oh, you will. If you don’t learn to beg for what you want, I'll make sure you experience pain in ways you can’t imagine. Trust me,” he added, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear, “if you refuse to submit, I’ll make you wish you had. It won’t take long for you to want to please me.”

Your eyes widened at the thought, but you couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through you at his words. “I do want to please you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, filled with an eagerness you couldn’t hide.

“Good girl,” he praised, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “But first, you need to say it. Say you want me to take care of you.”

“I want you to take care of me,” you murmured after a beat, the confession spilling from your lips as your body responded eagerly to his dominance.

“Now thank me for saving you. Thank me for rescuing you from that sad, miserable life you were living,” he said, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to thrust into you, his hair tousled and damp, clinging to his forehead with sweat.

You swallowed hard, the words heavy on your tongue. “Thank you for saving me, Azriel. Thank you for making my life worth living.” 

“See? It’s not so hard to submit, is it?” he taunted, thrusting deeper once more, making you curse as he filled you completely. “You’re going to love every moment, and I’ll make sure you never forget who you belong to.” He looped a finger around the necklace he bought you, eyeing you as though you were a prized possession.

He continued to thrust into you, each movement rhythmic and relentless, his hands gripping your hips, holding you firmly in place. “You’ll learn to follow my rules, to understand your place,” he said, his voice a seductive murmur. “And in return, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. All you have to do is let go.”

“Let go,” you echoed, the words hanging between you, filled with promise and danger.

“That’s right,” he urged, pulling your legs over his shoulders in a mating press as his thrusts grew more powerful. His gaze locked onto yours, daring you to surrender completely. “Let go, angel. Give yourself to me. Show me how much you crave this.”

Your body trembled with a surge of need as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I need you, Azriel,” you whispered, your voice raw with desire. You rocked your hips up to meet his thrusts, matching his rhythm, desperate to take him deeper. Your nails dug into his shoulders, urging him on. “Fill me, Azriel. Make me yours. I want to feel you everywhere,” you begged, the intensity of your words surprising you.

You kissed him fiercely, your lips crashing against his, tasting the salt of his sweat. Your tongue darted out, meeting his, and you moaned into his mouth, the vibrations traveling through both of you. Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him in place as you moved together, the friction building into an unbearable heat. “I’m yours,” you panted, your voice breaking with the weight of your admission. “Only yours.”

His eyes darkened with satisfaction, and he growled in approval, his movements growing even more demanding. “That’s it, angel. Show me how much you need this. Show me how much you need me,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust.

Your head fell back against the table as you surrendered completely, giving yourself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through you. “I need you, Azriel. I need you so much,” you cried out, your body shuddering as you reached your peak, every nerve ending on fire.

As you came apart beneath him, you clung to him desperately. He continued to thrust, his pace relentless and punishing. “I’m going to make this pretty pussy mine,” he growled, his voice low and feral. “Gonna pound you whenever I want, and you’re going to fucking beg me not to stop.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw dominance in his tone sending shivers down your spine. “Please, Azriel,” you whimpered, your body arching into him.

He smirked, his eyes blazing with possessive fire. “You’re going to learn to love every second of it, to crave it,” he said, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his control slipping. “Every second of the day. You’ll be begging for my attention, begging for me to fuck you, and I’ll make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

With one final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his release hitting hard as he groaned your name. “You’re mine,” he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and ragged. “Always.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @anneas11 @mrsjna @lilah-asteria @anarchiii

@randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @90angiex @fourthwing4ever

[theostrophywife]

Can I get a FIC abt the reader being Theodore’s gf and best friend and she’s embarrassed and alone in her dorm bc of cramps and they are REALLY REALLY bad and he just comforts her and they snuggle and he gives her his hoodie and fluffy!! (I’m dying from my cramps in my bed rn 🙏 I need comfort from my book bf)

heart shaped bruises.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: toothpaste kisses by the maccabees.

author's note: i'm so sorry you're in pain, love. hope this makes you feel better 💗

Bloody fucking hell. 

You clutched your stomach, doubling over in pain as another wave of cramps crashed into you at full force. An anti period pain potion. That would be your first invention after finishing your education at Hogwarts. For now, you were forced to endure the pain and misery sans magic. 

The clock on your nightstand rang obnoxiously, rattling the various barrettes and books stacked atop the table. The alarm meant that Charms would be starting soon. With a rather hard smack, you silenced the clock and buried yourself underneath the covers. 

There was no way in hell that you were going to make it to class today.

You couldn’t even get out of bed, let alone walk to the other side of the castle. No, you were staying right here. Cocooned in the safety of your blankets so you could wallow in self pity in peace. 

Apparently, suffering in silence was too much to ask for because the minute the alarm finally stopped, there was a knock on your door. 

“Go away,” you yelled, the words slightly muffled by your goose down comforter. 

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called from the other side of the door. “Are you alright, love?”

Tears pricked the back of your eyes. No, you were definitely not alright. Your uterus was an active war zone, your emotions were a poorly assembled rollercoaster in an abandoned theme park, and to top it all off, you had a raging headache like someone had taken a bludger to your skull. 

But you couldn’t say all of that. You didn’t want to freak your boyfriend out. 

“I’m fine, Theo. Just feeling under the weather.” You clamped your eyes shut, trying to block out the migraine. “Go to class without me.”

There was shuffling from the hallway before your door swung open, revealing a very concerned Theo. He took in the sight of you in bed, your cheeks flushed and your eyes red from crying all morning. Theo was by your side in three strides. 

“What’s wrong, dolcezza?”

“Nothing, I’m just not feeling well.” A fresh set of cramps chose that exact moment to pummel your lower abdomen, making you wince in pain. 

“That’s not nothing, darling.” He knelt beside you, taking your hand. “Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N. I hate seeing you in pain.”

Your eyes watered again. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Of course not, love.”

“It’s these cramps,” you said slowly, shifting to face him. “I’m on my period and it’s just really bad today. Usually I take a pain relieving potion, but even that’s not working this time around.”

Theo’s face softened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You averted his gaze, flushing. “I guess I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“It is a big deal,” said Theo. “Everything that has to do with you is a big deal to me. I hate thinking that you’ve been suffering through this all alone.”

“I just didn’t want to bother you with something so silly.”

“You could never bother me, Y/N.” Theo gently pulled back the covers. “If anything I’m the one bothering you right now. Scoot over, darling. Make room for your Teddy.”

“But you’ll miss Charms.”

“I’ve skipped for less. This time it’s actually important. You need me. I’m not leaving you.”

You smiled softly and made room for Theo. He instantly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a snuggle. The familiar scent of sea salt and smoke felt like a warm hug in itself. Theo stroked your hair and kissed your temple. 

The cold air seeped in through your frosted glass windows, chilling you to the core. As much as you loved the ominous charm of living in the dungeons, this was one of its disadvantages. You shivered in Theo’s arms, cuddling closer for warmth. 

Your boyfriend radiated heat. You had no idea how when it was near freezing in your dorm. Theo liked to say he was hot blooded. You were just grateful to have your own personal heater. 

“Are you cold, darling?” 

You nodded, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “A little.”

Theo shifted beside you. He tugged at the hem of his hoodie and pulled it off in one swift move. “Arms up, love.”

You sat upright and did what you were told. Theo slipped his hoodie over you, smiling as the plush fabric swallowed you whole. It was warm and smelled like him. You wanted to drown in it. 

He kissed the tip of your nose. “It looks good on you, but don’t think that it gets you out of cuddling.” 

Theo pulled you to him, snuggling you from behind. He twined your legs together, making you giggle as his leg hair tickled the back of your thighs. You intertwined your fingers and kissed the back of his palm. 

The cramps may still be wreaking havoc on your body, but at least now you had Theo to comfort you. 

“How are you feeling, babe?” 

You turned, smiling. “Better now that you’re here, Teddy.”

Theo grinned and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. “Get some rest, love. I’m not going anywhere.”

[slutforgarlogan]

Matching Wounds | James Patrick March x F! reader

Summary: James Patrick March killing you while hes fucking you (sorry guys i had a dream about it and had to write it)

A/N: this is so toned down i got too into the killing part the first time

Warnings: blood!, p in v smut, restraints, reader gets killed but shes in the cortez so she'll be conscious again guys its fine

You tug at the restraints, which are currently making sure both your hands and feet are secured onto the bed. Your chest is heaving and you're getting increasingly nervous, heartrate quickening and inducing you into a panicked state wondering what on earth had made you think this was a good idea.

When you had asked James to do the honours of killing you, so that you could be together forever, it hadn't occured to you that you'd actually have to go through the feeling of being killed. You had just wanted him to shoot you in the head or the heart or something, but it was never going to be that simple when you put your life in the hands of James Patrick March.

James on the other hand, felt the complete opposite to you in this very moment. He was absolutely ecstatic when you had asked him to kill you, and he ran through all the possible ways to do it. Choke you to death, cut you somewhere fatal, snap your neck, shoot you. But what he immediately knew for sure, was that he was going to fuck you while he did it.

After a few days of thinking, also giving you time to go back on the request, he had decided exactly what he was going to do. He was going to slit your throat, so you'd have a permanent wound that matched his own. Which is rather romantic in its own twisted, yet endearing way.

He watches you tug at the restraints that hold you down to the bed, laughing a little bit. "Don't worry darling, i promise this isn't going to be a bad experience for you. I'll make it quick, you wont even notice his happening"

You nod feverishly, though you were scared out of your mind right now, you could never deny the effect that he had on you, pussy clenching around air just from hearing his voice.

You try to relax your body against the sheets, keeping you eyes trained on him carefully, as he sheds himself of his 3 piece and boxers, and uncovering his open neck wound - which you'd only seen him do once before.

You're already squirming by the time hes hovering over you, soaked and desperate for his touch. You lock your gaze with his dark eyes - his gaze somewhat ominous, but loving at the same time.

"I love you, darling" He whispers to you, placing a soft kiss on your temple as he slips his dick into your soaking wet cunt. You whine a little at the stretch, and whisper back to him "I love you too, James"

His hips snap against yours roughly, as he snakes his hand between your bodys to toy with your clit, making you whimper underneath him. The moans that escape his parted lips sound glorious, as breathes out his words "fuck darling, you're always so good for me"

His skin is hot and sticky against yours, and the feel of him buried inside you makes your toes curl as you writhe and whimper beneath him.

He can see you're getting closer, your body giving him the same telltale signs as always. Clenching around his cock, squirming and shaking. The restraints that tie you to the bed leaving deep marks on your wrists at the way you're thrashing beneath him.

As your eyes roll back and you throw your head back, James reaches his free hand over to the bedside table, grabbing his knife and dragging it across your throat as he feels you coat his dick in your release.

He lets out a gutteral groan at the sight in front of him. Your fucked out expression, blood pouring down your neck, trickling down your breasts, and he runs a thumb over your nipple, smearing your blood around it as he waits for you.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Taglist: @lacucarachapisser @the-ultimate-theatre-kid @bluerthanvelvet444 @lvxybby

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Negotiations (Joe Goldberg x gn reader)

Summary: Joe puts you in the glass cage and makes you negotiate for your freedom

Warnings: typical creepy Joe behavior (implied stalking, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, etc.), the reader either doesn't understand the full gravity of their situation or just doesn't care

A/N: I realized I never officially wrote something for it so here y'all go (this was written super quickly so idk if it's any good or not)

"So I had to do it, you see. I had to get rid of them. I had to save you," Joe insisted frantically, sounding like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you.

You'd woken up in the infamous glass cage underneath the bookstore he worked at, curiously looking around. The only thing you'd said so far was to ask where to you, to which he replied "somewhere safe". Talk about ominous.

"What if I need to go to the bathroom?" You spoke up suddenly, as you soon realized upon inspecting the inside of your new home that there wasn't a toilet. There was, however, a bucket.

"Well..." He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he avoided the question. It didn't take much for you to put two and two together.

You gave him a look that was a cross between disgust and disbelief. "I can't pee in a bucket, Joe."

"I'm sorry, but I can't just let you out." He felt bad, sure, but he had to do this. He had to make sure that you were safe, even if it meant making you a little mad at him.

Crossing your arms, you turned in the opposite direction, refusing to look at him. Clearly you weren't too fond of your new living arrangements and were choosing to pout.

"Oh, come on, it isn't that bad," he lied upfront as he watched you. It was that bad, actually. Using a bucket to go to the bathroom was pretty gross.

And now he was starting to feel bad for putting you in this kind of situation. Anger was one thing, that he could handle. He could brace himself against that, or he rationalize away your worries or fears, but you seemed less genuinely upset and more annoyed than anything else.

He let out a heavy sigh as he contemplated his options. You were ignoring him, and he just couldn't have that. "If I let you out, you have to promise not to run away from me or anything like that. Understood?"

As if on cue, you turned back to face him again, a look of hope in your eyes. "Really?"

Joe tried not to let out a laugh when he saw you get close to the glass and press your face against it. "Yeah, really. Just- you have to move in with me. I don't want you living alone anymore. And I have to know where you are at all times."

Sure, he knew he could just follow you like usual, but he wanted you to be able to trust him. "And there's certain people that I don't want you hanging around anymore. Deal?"

Oh, god, what was he saying? This was going to be too much to put on you all at once. He should've just started with one small thing and gone from there, he shouldn't have given you an entire list-

"Deal."

Your voice instantly cut through his thoughts. Part of him wanted to believe you, even if he was a little suspicious that you'd agreed so quickly. Then again, you seemed so sincere, trusting even, observing him the same way anyone who truly loved their partner would: like he was the only thing that mattered.

"Could you let me out now? I really need to go pee."

Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to the door of the cage and unlocked it, letting you out. "Remember what I told you, alright? I don't want to have to put you back in there," he tried to make himself sound stern, to show you that he wasn't playing around when he said that.

To his surprise, you responded by giving him a hug. "You're such a sweetheart, caring about me so much," you muttered affectionately.

He couldn't stop himself from melting into your touch. If this was an act, it was certainly working.

"I'll never, ever leave you."

God, you were going to be the death of him. "And I'll never let you go," he promised in turn.

He really meant it when he said that. He was never going to let you go. Not that you seemed to mind.

End notes: I don't know if this is any good or not honestly. I really wanted to write something for Joe but I was kind of at a loss for what exactly to write about so 🤷 send me some ideas though if y'all want

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | You masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @caplanreblogsfics

[deathmetalangel]

HARDLY SEEMS FAIR

robby keene x fem! reader

warnings: "casual" relationship", swearing, arguments, crying, heavily ldr coded, implied hookups, slut shaming, cheating, angsty

“in what world is that fair robby?"

oke so this is kinda a retconnned chapter from my wattpad book that i'm just extending and making more ambigious instead of clearly x oc. i hope y'all like it tho. i am sorry i have been gone for so long :(

Y/n plays with the ends of Robby's hair. He was laying with his head in her lap while they just relaxed in her room. It was calm, domestic. A small and very rare moment for just the two of them. No outside force would intrude and break their safe haven. There was no what if's that lingered in the air. Nor past resentments that hung over them like an ominous cloud determined to damper their moods. 

It was just Y/n and Robby. And that's all they'll ever be. No labels. She figured that much after the last time she'd brought it up. But she's become so full of him she can't even bring herself to care. She'd rather have what they have now, whatever it may be with him. Rather than risking losing him, and the routine she's started to build around him. 

She hums softly. Her mind far off. "Y/n?" She hymns in acknowledgement without turning her head. "Something happened this weekend."

He was lying. This had been going on for weeks. He had been having doubts for weeks. He'd been seeing her for weeks. "What happened? Another karate fight?" She wasn't the girl who got heartbroken. She was never the second choice. She got what she wanted. And she wanted him, however she could have him.

"I kissed Sam Larusso."

Y/n freezes. Her body betraying her as she tenses up. She has no right, she knows that. They were 'casual'. Just her and Robby. Non-commital.

"I mean big deal right? We were drunk anyways. Just felt bad not telling you. I know were not dating so it's really not your business, but don't worry about it. I mean we've fucked so often what does a kiss even mean?"

A kiss. To her it meant everything. An act of intimacy that they rarley ever shared. So innocent, so pure.

"Get out of my room Robby." Y/n mumbles, her voice above a whisper. The teen sits up from her lap and looks at her incredalously. He was only telling her to keep her in the loop. She didnt have the right to be mad. So why was she making a big deal about this?

"What?"

"You heard me. Get the fuck out of my room Keene."

He furrows his brows in a toxic coctail of anger and confusion. "Why? You can't get pissed at me for this Y/n. We aren't fucking dating. Don't get all aggro on me like you're some psycho girlfriend when you're a friend with benefits at best."

Y/n stands up and pushes the boy out of her room. "Get the fuck out of here Robby! If it didn't mean anything why don't you go fuck her then? Go whine about your mommy issues and daddy issues to her and leave me the hell alone."

"You have some nerve you know that right? Don't act all high and mighty now. You're a whore. Why the hell would I ever actually take you seriously when I can get everything I want without the label or work. You're easy, I could never do that shit with Sam."

Her breath was stuck in her throat as the boy she truly thought cared began to berate her as if she was a random person on the street. The boy she suffered for. The boy that was really never her's to keep. Y/n forces herself to wipe her anrgy tears and push Robby once again.

Y/n's hands were shaky, she desprately wanted to cry. To scream. To give in and give him the satisfaction of getting to her. "Oh so you can come over whenever you want, make me listen to your shitty life, and basically force yourself into my own life, but all that means nothing right? Well guess what Kenne. You kissed her, and she still doesn't want you!" She presses her finger into his chest while her voice level rises. "That same girl is still with Miguel. So just because you wanna jump ship and 'upgrade' doesn't mean she wants anything to do with you. Face it babe, you're just white trash."

"Shut the fuck up Y/n." Robby practically spits back.

"Oh, so you can disrespect me and belittle me in my own fucking room, but when its you its a problem? Grow up Robby. You're a man baby and a hypocrite. In what world is that fair Robby? Maybe in your little made up fantasy where Sam picks you and you leave me for dead. So go stay there. Cause you're sure as hell not welcome here."

Y/n throws everything he's given her at him. Every last peice a memory they shared together. Posters, drawings, braclets, anything that adorned her room. All of it thrown to him and crashing down like victims of a violent storm. Tears streamed down her face as he backed up to her door.

She opens the door for him and grabs his sweater and keys before shoving it in his chest. The boy watches her dumbfounded.

"Stay away from me Robby. Go back to some other slut that can put up with your baggage and shitty attitude for one night stand status. Because I'm done."

He looks at her, but there wasn't the girl he knew looking back at him. Not with how she glared, not with how she stood, and not with how she felt. Her eyes, the e/c irises reflected love, now they were dark. Harbors for her contempt. The grimace on her face was unforgettable. Especially as the last thing he seen before she slammed her door on his face.

Robby swallows the spit in his mouth, a hard lump of guilt not wanting to go down. He didn't think any of this would happen. He wanted her to care, but he didn't want to fight. His temper, his father's god forsaken temper, and his own damned ego.

He wanted what he had with her, with Sam. The girl next door with a rich family and big house. Like something out of a book. Not the girl that did whatever he said for the sake of making him happy. He really did want to just abandon her, didn't he? After everything.

Choking back his frustrations the boy marches down her stairs and lets himself out. He liked what he had with her, but he wouldn't fight for her. Guys only did that for the girl they want.

[rbbrbikerthorp]

The Fitting Room Is This Way

I got the inspiration for this story from a GIF, which must have been a looped clip taken from a video called "Abducted". I used a generative AI platform to create a couple of the images - not bad for a first effort?

“Why don't you just try something on? I think it look like a second skin on you and will suit you very much. Here, the fitting room is this way…”

"Errrrrrm," was about all I could muster as a reply. I tore my eyes away from the rails of black and multicoloured rubber that had absorbed my attention for more minutes than I care to say. I turned my head to see what I can only describe as an attractive young male with orange and green hair, multiple piercings and more tattoos than I'd ever seen on a body. I'm not usually stuck for words, but this time I was.

It was the first time I'd ever crossed the threshold of any adult store, let alone a fetish store. I was actually on a business trip to the city for a couple of days to meet with a bunch of different customers. I'd arranged to meet one of them for dinner this evening, but something had come up and they had to cancel. With time on my hands, my curiosity got the better of me. I walked the short distance from the hotel into what people might describe as a 'seedy' part of the city and walked through one of two doorways that would change my life - forever.

"Look, you've been gawking at these garments for at least ten minutes, so something must have piqued your interest," the shop assistant said grinning in a somewhat sinister way.

The truth is he was absolutely right. I had a real fetish for rubber, but it wasn't something I could share. If I didn't use an incognito browser, a casual glance at my web history would show me landing on websites with videos and pictures of men in rubber and stories of men being turned into rubbermen, from beasts to slaves.

The assistant looked me up and down, "yes I can see why you are captivated by the rubber suits - so much more exciting than a business suit to wear, and it will hug and show off your best bits," he giggled to himself as he grabbed two or three suits off the rails.

"Right one of these will be perfect for you. It will feel like a second skin. So much so, that I don't think you'll ever want to take it off."

There was that ominous grin again.

"Follow me. It's this way to the fitting room"

He walked deeper into the basement and towards a set of dark doors. Was there a fitting room really this way? I'd never been in a fetish store before but I'd read a few stories about what was inside. He pushed on the door, it opened slowly. Very little light emanated from inside. “Come on”, he said jovially. I followed like a puppy dog follows its mother.

Inside the room I could just about make out the shapes of muscular men in shiny dark clothing. Several hands grabbed me, restraining me before I knew what was happening. At first I struggled against my captors but one came up to me and held a mask over my nose and mouth; I heard a hissing sound. I felt a kind of euphoria cone over me. My struggles evaporated and I allowed myself to be led deeper into the room. Now that I was next to these men I could tell they were wearing similar outfits to the ones I’d seen on the rails back in the shop, and their heads were enclosed in some kind of hood/gas mask combination.

I looked at the assistant standing there holding the rubber suits whilst I was stripped of my clothing. Now naked, they started rubbing what I can only describe as an oily cream all over me. One of the dark rubber-suited men walked over to the assistant, who handed him one one of the rubber suits. He walked back towards me and took the suit off the hanger. Two other lifted my left foot off the floor and he started sliding it in, then they put my foot back on the floor and he repeated the process with the right foot.

Then it was a simple process; to gently and very erotically guide the rubber suit all the way up my body. As they did they smoothed out any bumps, making sure the rubber clung to every millimetre of my body. Just before the suit covered my groin, I looked down to see one of the men fitting a device over my cock and felt another slide something into my arse. At first he struggled, so he squeezed something onto it and started pushing at my sphincter. At first it met a resistant from a hole that had only known 'one-way' traffic. suddenly I felt a ‘pop’ and my arse felt 'nice and full' (where did that come from).

The men carried on smoothing the rubber suit as they pulled it up my torso until it reached my chest. Then, one at a time my arms were fed into the suit. The shop assistant walked up to me and fitted what I can only describe as mitts over my hands. I stood there, a spectator in my own body, watching as the flesh was covered with black latex. Then the suit was zipped up to my neck. I felt a mild construction and heard a snap. The assistant walked around in front of me and held up a broken zip. His grin now a haunting smile.

Before I could react I felt something rubbery being brought to my face, I could see lenses and a place for my nose to fit in. I started breathing more rapidly as a sense of unease started to build. Despite my fears I allowed the men to fit the mask over my face, the mask seemed to be part of a hood because the next thing I sense was a zip being pulled from the top of my head down to meet the top of the suit at my neckline. My head now felt as  constricted as my body.

Through the lenses I could see my captors. Then I heard voices in my ears.  Mini speakers in the hood activated, “welcome brother, welcome to the nest. From here we grow, we spread, we convert and we conquer.”

There was just white noise now. The lenses darkened and my vision blacked out. Then instantly there were spirals, shapes and words imprinted on the lenses. Voices in my head said, “Rubberdrone”, “obey”, “comply”, “convert”. Over and over the words bombarded my head until...nothing. My own thoughts stopped. The lenses cleared to let this newly created rubberdrone see the room again, the voices in my ears stopped. 

In front of me were half a dozen rubber drones lined up. To the side I could recognise the shop assistant. I instinctively knew to join at the back of the line. The assistant opened the door and we started moving forward.

[piss-pumpkin]

🌼Proof of existence🥝

Douce amere epilogue, (older)Dipper pines x reader, ~4.2k words masterlist Prev

One year. One full year. You swallowed hard as you drove the streets of Piedmont. It wasn’t like you hadn’t heard from him, or talked to him, but like… a full year. It felt like a long time, even though it wasn’t. Last summer could’ve been a lifetime ago. And last summer had a lifetimes worth of memories. 

Your old cheap car shuddered at each pothole, and you pursed your lips. The car wasn’t what you worried about. Just chill, you told your heart rate. It refused to listen, and kept high and thundering. Whatever. He’s still your boyfriend. Even though it’s been a full year. Ugh. 

And you had plenty of time to catch up on everything that didn’t make it into messages and text on the road trip. Normally, Piedmont to Gravity falls was a day trip. A handful of hours, not too bad, but annoying for a bus. But nowadays, you actually had a car and a license. 

It really worked out in your favor. Your school ended a couple weeks before the twins, so you had time to hangout with friends, take a trip down and around, and eventually end up in Piedmont to pick him up. And the final destination was the mystery shack. All you had to do was grab him and go. And make some stupid stops along the way.

The conditions of your ‘new driver’ license were weird though. Legally, you could only have one non family passenger. As much as you ignored that rule with friends back home, crossing state borders and big cities breaking the law seemed like tempting fate. So you could only take one twin. You weren’t entirely disappointed about that, though…

You pulled into the school parking lot, scanning the sign. This was their high school. You’d seen photos, but in real life it felt like the set of a movie. 

Your foot arched on the brake, and your hand glided to shift into park. Deep breaths. School wasn’t out yet, you were early. You had time to hype yourself up. As you shut the car off, you pulled out your phone to text him and say that you’re here.

Wanna come in actually? I’m just in history, He responded.

You blinked a few times, pursing your lips. Why, you typed and sent. Walking into his classroom randomly and interrupting things didn’t seem like a good idea. And in front of a whole class? Bad plans. You already were feeling weird just sitting in the parking lot, like a creep. 

He was typing. The three dots of the messages popped as you waited, feet on the dash. So I can prove you exist long story, he sent. 

You stared at the phone a moment. That seemed dumb. Dipper must have realized that was ominous, because he started to type again. 

We didn’t even have a lesson today cuz it’s the end of the year you’re fine to come in we’re just hanging out. 

You sighed. Will it be awkward? You asked. 

He typed for a moment, then stopped. Then started again, and said no. 

Ugh. To proof you exist? What did that even mean? Ugh. Fine, you sent, hopping out of the car and locking it behind you. Do I need to like check in at an office or something to go in?

No just you can just walk up, he sent.

Your brow crinkled. Fr? You asked. That seemed… somewhat weird if anyone could just walk in. Even if you were a teenager and seemed like you were in the right place. 

Dipper was typing, It’s not a great school.

Fine, whatever. You started for the door. Around the school was far from empty, despite the fact that class was supposedly still on. People sat around on benches, or just the ground chit chatting. A bunch of them had yearbooks to look through and sign. 

You looked at your phone to avoid making awkward eye contact with any of them. What’s the room? You asked Dipper. 

He gave back a number and said it was on the second floor. The only problem was, this school was massive. Stepping inside the main door to the foyer, it alone was huge. It led and tapered off into a cafeteria on one side, and in the centre was two stairways that led to a balcony, more stairs, and halls on the second floor. 

You frowned, and started to type as you scanned the room, Dipper you shitbag more specific direct- then you saw somebody sitting alone. Everyone else was dispersed around in groups, so a loner seemed the most approachable. 

“Um, hi,” you started, doing a little wave as they looked up from their phone. “Could you direct me to room,” you checked Dippers text, “twenty-two oh-four?”

Their long brown hair parted as they stood up and nodded, “I’ll take you, I have to grab my stuff there anyway.” A mask was covering the bottom half of their face, but their eyes seemed friendly enough. 

They started for the stairs, and you followed behind as they navigated around the people. As you passed classrooms with windows facing in, you saw so few people actually doing lessons. You smiled as you looked in. Summer break was literally ten minutes away, everyone knew it. You were so close to getting back to Gravity Falls. 

“You don’t go here, right?” The person leading you asked, glancing back at you. 

You laughed nervously, “uh, no,” you said, shaking your head. “Just picking somebody up.”

They nodded along, “Okay, for a second I thought I was really stupid and just never noticed you.”

You fought the urge to make some joke like how could anyone not notice me. That would be super awkward with somebody you don’t know.

”But like how could anyone not,” they laughed, turning back to you for a moment. “Like, in a good way, I love your fit.”

Oh wow, that’s literally what you were just thinking. They must be psychic. “Uh, thanks,” you smiled, “you too, and I love the hair,” you said, pulling a strand of your own hair for emphasis. 

You followed them to a classroom, and just through the windows you could see him. Dippers back was turned to you as he sat on a desk and chatted with some people, Wendy’s hat resting on his head. Probably with friends. You swallowed. It was weird seeing him with friends you didn’t know, now that you thought about it. The closer you stepped to the door the more it felt like worlds colliding, that you were just for summer, and don’t belong with his year-round friends. 

“You know him?” Your guide asked, brow raised. You could almost hear a slight twinge of distain in their voice.

Shit. Your head whipped back away from the windows. They must have caught you staring. You stepped half a pace back as you laughed, “uh yeah, my,” you hesitated. Why hesitate? It’s true? “Boyfriend… the guy with the hat.”

”Oh,” they said quickly, brow still raised. The mask hid half their expression, the reaction was hard to gauge. “What’s your, uh, name?” They asked casually, pointing at you. 

You swallowed. This was weird right? “Y/n,” you said.

They smiled. Or at least looked like they did, with their eyes. “Well, that explains it,” they said. They must have considered that bit of conversation over, because they started reaching for the door handle, leaving you standing there, a little confused. “And for the record, I always knew you were real,” they added, slight sigh in their tone. 

Again with that? Your guide opened the door, and slipped inside, offering you a little wave as they walked away while you hesitated. They seemed to know people, chatting and saying bye to a few people as they found a chair with a backpack under it. They seemed nice. If, a little weird. 

Sighing, you twiddled your fingers trying to work up the courage. He’d mentioned the names of his and Mabel’s friends, but you hadn’t really seen faces. You’d only been in school a few weeks prior, but seeing the classroom you felt like an alien. A whole other school. The slight differences made all the difference. It was a whole other world, and weird to think that other people had their whole lives here, the same way you had yours back home. 

Deep breaths. Be cool. You pushed open the door, and tried not to look awkward as you made your way through the classroom. Relax, you told yourself. But still, the creeping feeling that this was a world you weren’t a part buried itself in your spine. Somehow, weird monsters in the woods seemed less scary than your boyfriends friends. 

You pursed your lips, and came up beside him, playfully hitting him in the arm in between sentences he was trading with friends. Trying not to be awkward. Or interrupt.

Dipper turned towards you, and his face lit up. It was almost enough to calm any nerve that you might have. He grinned, taking your hand, and his friends took the hint to pause the conversation. Or maybe his friends could tell Dipper was focused on something else now. That made you feel a little better. “Oh man, I can’t believe you’re here,” he laughed. 

His friend snickered, “yeah neither can I,” he muttered.

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you didn’t. Lucky for you, Dipper filled the gap. He scooted so his body was facing you, “okay, so,” he started, waving his free hand in the air for punctuation. “There’s just-“ he gestured his head at his friends- “a few people I want you to meet, then we can head out, yeah?”

“Uh, sure,” you said, glancing again at the people watching this interaction. Two boys and a girl looked at you, all with slight smiles you could only guess were formed in surprise. 

Dipper turned back to them, “this is Y/n,” he announced proudly. 

“Holy shit, it’s like meeting a celebrity,” one of boys laughed.

The other one hit him on the side as he giggled, “Like Miku.”

The girl chimed in next, “Or Jesus,” she snickered under her breath.

They giggled while Dipper shook his head. One of them, a boy, looked at you with a lopsided smile. “I am… shocked that you’re here,” he said lightly, sounding friendly. 

“Uh,” you managed, glancing at Dipper.

Another friend glanced at Dipper, then back to you. She laughed lightly, “yeah, I can’t believe this,” she said. She turned to the last friend, “what do I owe you?”

You stood silently with lips pursed as they did, waiting for the conversation to be over. 

One rooted around in her backpack for a wallet, and they started to trade money. You awkwardly side eyed Dipper, and he seemed to take the hint. He hopped off the desk, “alright, we’re going,” he said waving as he turned around, “Bye guys.”

They waved bye to both of you. 

Dipper turned around way easier than you. Maybe you were still reeling from that interaction. Dipper laughed under his breath, and turned you around by the shoulders, and gestured at the door. Blinking, you shot him a look, glancing between him and his friends. A light blush dusted his cheeks, but he nodded. Maybe that meant he’d tell you later. 

You waved at the friends, and followed him out.

“See ya, Y/n,” the person with the mask said on your way out, with a little wave. 

You smiled, “See you!” 

Now it was Dippers turn to shoot you a look. He raised his brow, and glanced once between you and your… friend seemed like a stretch. Acquaintance. He did a double take between you and your newfound acquaintance. 

It was busier outside then when you walked in. Way more people were hanging out, waiting for buses or just standing around skipping class. You pursed your lips. That made it far more annoying to drive. 

“Okay so, Dip, what was that?” You asked, shaking your head as you made your way to the car. You fiddled with the keys in your hand as you walked. “Why am I apparently like Jesus?

Dipper sucked a breath in through his teeth and smiled, though it looked half pained. “okay so,” he started, “Nobody thought you were real.”

”What?”

He shook his head cheekily at the floor, “Well, I mentioned you once, and so they asked…” he looked up, as if to make sure you were still following the plot. He started animatedly taking with his hands. “And I accidental said you lived far away… and you know the whole ‘my girlfriend goes to another school’ lie people pull… so everyone just kinda… assumed.” Dipper was shaking his head, “because they suck.”

You paused before you unlocked the car door to take that in. Your head tilted to the side, “couldn’t Mabel just… tell them otherwise?”

Dipper winced. “Yeah, she sure could have,” he said wistfully.

You smiled, “but she didn’t?”

”Nope,” he added quickly.

You snickered as you slipped into the drivers seat, and Dipper the passengers. “And you didn’t just… I don’t know, show them pictures?”

Dipper sighed, rubbing his temples, “the answer to any question you might have is that Mabel sucks, trust me. I showed pictures once, and she convinced people they were AI generated.”

You shook your head. “Damn bro,” you said, pushing the key in the ignition. “For the whole year?”

He sighed, nodding.

You laughed, “How have you never mentioned this?” 

Dippers face fell into his hands as he groaned, “ugh, I don’t know,” he complained. “Embarrassing?”

You smiled, playfully hitting him across the chest, and holding your hand there a moment as he lifted his head. You started out of the parking lot, careful around the crowds of people walking around and laying very little attention to surrounding cars. “You totally would do that, though,” you snickered. “Lie about something like that.”

Dipper scoffed, “One, no I wouldn’t. Two, I don’t know why people think that, or why Mabel had such an easy time lying.”

You laughed as you escaped the parking lot. “Because it’s pretty easy to believe, to be honest. Like, in another life you totally would.” The open road ahead of you, and the easy conversation was lifting the weight off your shoulders. “In another bitchless life,” you giggled. 

Dipper groaned in disgust as you giggled. “Whatever,” he said, arms folded across his chest. “Now you have to tell me how you know Sal,” he questioned.

”Who? Also do we need to stop at your place to get your stuff?” 

“Yeah,” Dipper said, “Sal’s the one who said bye to you as you left.”

”Oh,” you blurted, “They showed me to your classroom, they seemed nice.”

Lucky for your gas tank, Dipper didn’t live far from school. You were already turning down the suburb streets, where all the houses looked very same-y, but one do them was his. You went slow as you scanned for his address. 

“They are nice,” Dipper confirmed, “But I got scared for a second, they do not like me. Remember when I said I had an ex that I totally screwed over?” He asked sheepishly, offering you a small smile. “Also I’m a few streets down, keep going.”

“Ooooh,” you said. “Yeah they were weird when I was looking at you,” you confessed. 

You caught up on the… somewhat small town drama. The way Dipper talked about Piedmont made it feel small, despite its population. Maybe a consequence of being Mabel’s brother was knowing everyone. 

The twins mom invited you in, made very lovely small talk. Unfortunate that Mabel was out with friends. But you’d see her again in a day or two. You were grinning at the thought. 

And you were gone, off into the somewhat known unknown when Dipper came back downstairs with his luggage. 

                                      …

The road to Gravity falls was a murder road. Winding, dark, covered in trees, and a villainous aura. It had gotten dark the more you drove, and the more stops you made along the way at the horrible tourist attractions that all had nothing on the mystery shack.

But you were tired, and Dipper couldn’t drive. So camp time it was. 

Oh perfect. You slowed down as you spotted a small concealed logging road in the dark. You pulled the car onto it, and drove carefully along the rocky ground and potholes. 

“Dude, this is a stupid idea,” Dipper said, wiping his eyes as he scanned the shadowed forest. 

You were scanning too. “Aha,” you exclaimed, your eyes settling on a little parking space-like nook off the road. “This is a spot,” you claimed, steering the car into it.

”no the fuck it is not.”

You grinned as you put the car in park, and shut it off, and unclipped your seatbelt. “Yes it is,” you argued, opening the door. 

The outside was warm, despite the late hour. Summer nights, you supposed. The trees were tall overhead, shadowing the dark blueish and starry sky. A light wind was blowing through, and the atmosphere might’ve been ominous and scary if this was Gravity Falls, but out side of its paranormal borders, it was peaceful. 

Dipper got out with you, and even in the dark you could feel his judgmental gaze from the other side of the car. “So now what?” He said, unimpressed. 

“Well, we brush our teeth, and set up camp,” you instructed, pointing at him over the car roof. Your eyes were adjusted enough to make out his deadpan face in the moonlight. 

He sighed, diving back into the passenger seat to Ricky through a bag. “Did you… bring camping stuff?” He asked, muffled by the car door. 

“I brought a car,” you offered. 

His sigh cut the light he forest air and you giggled. He shut the cat door again, this time with a water bottle and his tooth brush. Smiling, you grabbed your brush, plus the toothpaste. You tossed his the paste, and he tossed you the water.

The two of you brushed your teeth in the dark, spitting toothpaste as far out from the car as you felt like venturing. 

Dipper muttered with his toothbrush in his mouth, “we are so gonna die in the woods…”

”Are not,” you said, rinsing your mouth out. 

When you finished, it was camp time. You may not have had a tent, but you had blankets and your pillows. And extra clothes to pad it out. You smiled when you saw Dippers skeptical face through the dark. You popped the trunk, “boom, camping,” you declared. 

He sighed, “We’re dead, goners.”

But he still helped you oh the blankets down on the trunk floor, and pull the seats back to make it… somewhat more like a bed. 

                                        …

The car bed was expectedly not great. But wiggling around you were able to find a comfortable position, curling your legs at the back of the trunk. The windows were steamed from breath and body heat, and you and Dipper were inches apart in the close quarters. 

The surrounding woods were nearly dead silent. You should be thrilled. This is your boyfriend, who you haven’t seen in months. But instead you were… quiet. Maybe anxious. Almost too scared to reach out and touch him. But you mustered the courage. Timidly, you reached your hand out to grab his between you. 

“So,” you started. “Did I miss anything good during the school year?”

You couldn’t see it, but by his little exhale you could tell he smiled. “I think I told you everything interesting,” he said.

You twiddled your thumb around his hand. “Well, clearly not everything, finding out you made me up was new.”

He snickered, “Okay, I told you everything good besides that.”

You smiled, but fell into another silence. Not exactly an awkward one, it was hard to feel too awkward when you were that close, but it wasn’t exactly nice. Every once in a while the tree branches blew in the wind overhead, and what little you could see from the rear view mirror shifted around. You pursed your lips and looked down, though there was little point to that in the dark 

Dipper cut through the quiet. “I was actually kind of nervous to see you again,” he said awkwardly, stumbling over each syllable in that… usual way he does. “I thought it might be easier around my friends, but they… kind of suck.”

You smiled, nodding slightly. “Yeah… I was trying to hype myself up in the car.”

He snorted, “But your always hype.”

”Well… not always,” you said, nestling your head further into the pillow and blanket pile. “Is it really that different being back together?”

Dipper did the same, flipping a pillow over to the cold side, and scooting it the smallest bit closer to you. “I dunno,” he said. “It’s not usually any different.”

”Well, we don’t usually feel awkward and… stuff”

He laughed a little, lifting his hand to cover his mouth. “Speak for yourself… I always do,” he said. “At least with you, that is.”

Of course he did. You grinned. How he was this endearing, you weren’t sure. “Really?” You asked, smirk creeping into your lips. “Widdle ol’ me?”

”Ugh,” he groaned, probably rolling his eyes if you had to guess. “Yeah, widdle ol’ you. It uh, usually takes a couple days to get used to you again,” he admitted. “I don’t know, maybe it’s different now that we’re…” he trailed off. Of course he did. You could almost feel the heat from his blush. 

You smiled, and playfully punched him in the chest with your free hand, and then left it there to linger. More touch. “It’s been weird being long distance,” you said. “Maybe that makes it different. It’s been like, a year since we’ve even been in the same city.”

He nodded, “Yeah, a lot does change. You look kind of different from last summer, it doesn’t always show in the pictures, like-“ he paused, about to reach his hand out to you, you could see in the silhouette, but stopped. “Uh, you head,” he said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, “may I?”

You nodded.

He gently brushed the hair off your forehead, and ghosted his hand over your scar from last summer. “It’s different in person, it’s healed really well,” he said, fingers tracing its edges. You smiled as he did, feeing the callous on his fingertips on the parts that could still feel well. “It kind of looks like a star, actually,” he smiled, “We’re matching,” he said, tapping his own forehead.

Aw shit. A grin made its way onto your lips, and you felt a heat on your cheeks. “A star… and the Big Dipper?” 

He brushed some hair back to cover his birthmark. A star and a constellation. “Yeah, I think so.”

Sighing, you scotched closer to him to close the gap,  trying to keep the comfortable position you found. Closer, like you usually were. “Dip, I think that even if things are a little different, that’s fine as long as I still love you,” you smiled, then hastily added, “Which I somewhat obviously do, but I figured I’d specify in case that wasn’t clear.”

”I- also you that-“ he sputtered, wrapping an arm around you to hold you closer. 

You giggled, “yeah? You’re sticking by that one?”

“I guess so,” he snickered, resting his head against yours. He once against swept the hair from your face, and this time you smiled as his lips met the softer skin of the scar with a little kiss. 

You tried to suppress your grin, but it didn’t work. Fuck. He’s too sweet. You giggled some more, brushing your thumb against his jaw. “Good spot, but I have an improvement, get this,” you said, like you were selling a pitch. 

You utilized your hands to find his face, brushing over his lips with your thumb. Target located. Smiling, maybe still with butterflies, as juvenile as that felt, you brought your face up to his to kiss him. Somehow the first since reuniting. You could feel the smile on his lips as you did, and the small twitch of his fingers on your back where he held you.

First kiss of the new summer. Far from the last, if all went well.  Your mind almost laughed at you. When did things ever go well?

You giggled as he pulled you in for another kiss, and complained about the discomfort of the trunk. He was too tall to employ your strategy of curling into the trunk. 

Things always went well enough. Nobody died, and you had each other and the gang. And a car. You could think of literally nothing else you needed. Gravity Falls was a day away, and it seemed like your scar had healed. Matching stars. 

Chat I finally did it I wrote some fanfic maybe I’m back from hiatus

I’m torn there a lot I wanna do with this fic like use other characters more, or pay off things I mentioned or set up earlier, or even just write random ass episode one shots. Or a backrooms horror story too Angsty to be canon. But I also wanna be done with this and it’s a complete story so I totally could be. I dunno.

Taglist: @phobo-ss @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Practice Makes Perfect (Larissa Weems x Reader)

Synopsis: Larissa stumbles into something you didn't want her to.

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: none

You stared into the mirror, fingers clenching at your side. A deep breath in, slowly released through parted lips. Your gaze skittered away, searching out anything else in the room. Your bed, made in a hurry. The carpet under your bare feet, toes digging in. The armchair pushed to the side, worn leather old and comfortable. Your eyes alighted on each one but nothing could hold your attention.

Just the thought of doing what you planned on doing had your heart thumping in your chest hard enough to leave a bruise bleeding through your skin.

You turned your attention back to the mirror, dragging another long breath into your lungs. You could see, even when you were on your own, the nervous energy rolling off you.

“Okay,” you whispered, “okay.”

You pressed your hands together in front of your body, squeezing them until you could feel your pulse thumping in your fingertips. Another breath, another moment hovering.

“Larissa, I need to tell you something.”

You shook your head.

“No, far too ominous. Principal Weems, there’s something we need to discuss.”

Another shake of your head.

“Too formal. Ugh.”

You thrust your hands into your hair, fingers clenching until you felt the pull. You growled, wondering if it was time to give up. There was no point. It wasn’t as if you were ever actually say the words to her. It was all for your own benefit.

“Larissa, can we talk?”

You nodded.

“Better.”

You took another deep breath in.

“And if she says yes then I can keep going. Which would be…”

You met your own eyes in the mirror. Yeah, you definitely couldn’t ever say any of this in front of her. Larissa Weems deserved more than your fumbling confession. Especially if you couldn’t even say the words to yourself.

The truth was, you’d been smitten with the intimidating principal from the moment you’d set foot in the school. Her firm handshake and wide smile had enchanted you on your first day as a new member of staff. Her voice had been soft like butter and inviting like the summer night. You’d been enamoured ever since.

But, like so often in your life, you hadn’t said anything to her. Hadn’t made a move. Hadn’t tried to shoot your shot. You knew she deserved better than you.

Lately, though, you’d found her eyes turned in your direction more often than usual. The way her gaze lingered on you. The way her lips curled upwards whenever you said anything to her. It was giving you undue hope. It was stealing your breath and filling your head with all kinds of romantic fantasies. And rather less romantic fantasies.

So now you were pretending as if you were going to confess your feelings to her. Which you knew you wouldn’t. Not really.

“I know I’ve only been here for a few months but in that time I’ve come to realise something. Something important. Something I think you should know.”

You sighed. This was not going the way you intended. You were so bad at things like this.

“Larissa, I think you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Whenever I’m in your presence it’s all I can think about. You’re all I can think about. When I wake up you’re my first thought and when I go to bed you’re my last. I want you in every possible way. You have stolen my heart and my soul and they are yours. I am yours.”

You blinked at yourself in the mirror. Your head slowly fell forward, hands coming up to cover your eyes, palms pressing in until colours burst behind your eyelids.

“God, why do I have to be so dramatic? That’ll never work.”

“Really? I thought it was going rather well.”

Your head jerked up, stumbling back a step. Your door, previously unknown to you, had been cracked open, just enough for a passing person to hear you talking to yourself. Now, a tall figure stood in the doorway, backlit by the light from the hall. Horror filled your veins, eyes widening and breath stilling. Your heart missed a beat before going double time.

“Principal Weems,” you breathed.

She took a step into the room proper, hand splayed on the door, pushing it closed. She might have been on the other side of the room, but without the possibility of someone else walking in on the two of you, it felt as if she was so much closer. Her lips were pulled up at the corners as she looked at you, all the way across the room.

“I think you can call me Larissa after that confession,” she said, voice teasing.

“You weren’t meant to hear that,” you were quick to say.

“But it was so nicely said.”

You looked away from her, cheeks heating under her penetrating gaze. You couldn’t bear to look at her, not knowing she’d heard your words, the ones never meant for her. That just so happened to be about her.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed.” Her voice was delicate, as if worried you were about to break. You shook your head, not able to even begin to explain all the ways you had to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “that wasn’t… it wasn’t for your ears.”

“Why not?”

You hadn’t noticed her approach until her finger was gently lifting your chin, forcing you to look at her. The expression on her face was one of guarded hope, and yet also so concerned. Her skin against yours was making your head spin.

“I didn’t…” was as far as you got to explaining your thought process.

“Were you rehearsing for a prank?” she asked, the shutters coming down on her face.

“What?” The idea made no sense to you, “no.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” she said, “you can tell me. I won’t be upset.”

“Who would do that?” you asked, “that’s just cruel.”

“Yes, well, people can be unkind,” she replied, finally letting your chin go.

“It wasn’t anything to do with a prank,” you said, voice firm on that count. You didn’t like the way her body had stiffened, not quite looking at you, lips pressing together, “it wasn’t a prank.”

“Then what was it?” she demanded.

“It was…” Even when trying to assuage her fears, the words were getting stuck in your throat, “not important.”

Her gaze ran over your face, and perhaps she saw your hesitation written in your expression. She took a half step back, hands clasped in front of her body, putting distance between the two of you. Somehow, it didn’t stop your heart from feeling as if it was in your throat. Your fingers itched to reach out to touch her. You missed her warmth on your skin.

“It’s hard to pretend as if I didn’t hear your words,” she said.

“I’d prefer if you did,” you said, voice quiet, bowing your head.

“Darling, how can I when you were saying everything I’ve ever wanted to hear from your lips?”

Your head snapped up. The way she was looking at you stole your breath, so open and hopeful, but also as if steeling herself for you to laugh in her face. Words died on your tongue, stolen by her own confession. She straightened her spine, staring down at you, waiting for you to say or do something.

“You- what?” It was the best you could do.

“Surely you’ve begun to notice how enchanting I find you,” she said, softening just a touch.

You shook your head, slowly turning it into a nod. Of course you’d noticed the shift in the air. It’s what had prompted the whole stupid idea of confessing your own feelings. Her lips curled up into another smile again, self satisfied and a little bit cocky. She took that half step back towards you, finger under your chin guiding you face back up towards her.

“Now how about you tell me how you feel to me,” she suggested.

“But you’ve already heard it,” you said, anxiety beginning to bubble in your stomach again.

“I’d like to hear it again if you’re willing to say it,” she replied.

Her thumb brushed over your bottom lip and you whimpered, leaning towards her. Her eyes seemed to melt, turning molten before your very eyes as her gaze dipped down to your lips. They parted, practically begging her for a kiss.

“Please,” she whispered.

As it turned out, you weren’t able to say no to her.

“Larissa, I… from the moment I met you there was no one else. You were everything. Every dream I’d ever had, every fantasy, every… everything I had ever wanted. You’re still everything I want. When you smile at me, it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a thunderstorm. When you look at me, you steal my breath away. And when you touch me.” Your breath caught in your throat, “I’m electrified.”

“Oh, my darling,” was said with such reverence, such wonder. It made you glow under her gaze, taking her in, wanting to memorise every inch of her in that moment. She was resplendent, and the way she was looking at you made you think you could be too.

“Sorry, I’m being really over dramatic again, aren’t I?” You laughed but she didn’t.

“I rather enjoy the dramatics,” she replied.

“You do?” Your voice held too much hope, you knew that, but you couldn’t help it. If you weren’t careful you’d get used to her looking at you as if you were the most wonderful being in the universe.

“I like everything about you,” she said.

Her hand drifted up, cupping your cheek as she drew closer.

“Larissa,” you exhaled.

“Yes, my darling?” she murmured, breath ghosting over your face.

“Are you going to kiss me now?” you asked.

“I was considering it.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Please do.”

Maybe she couldn’t say no to you either. Her lips brushed against yours as if testing the waters first. You gasped, hands finding her waist, pulling her body against yours. You couldn’t help it, she was irresistible. Her own hands were grasping your face, tilting it up as she kissed you again, deeper, more intense, stealing all of your breath.

She pushed you back until your spine collided with the cold surface of the mirror you’d been practicing in. Pinned between the warmth of her body and the chill of the mirror, you felt as if you were melting, turning into a malleable puddle, barely a person anymore as her tongue found yours. She sighed into your mouth, fingers sliding into your hair.

Your hands slid up her spine, clutching at her dress when her teeth sunk into your lower lip. Your moan was muffled and her answering groan was a delight to your ears.

When she drew back you were panting for breath. Her lipstick was smudged and her eyes smouldering, a flush high on her cheekbones. Her thumb ran along your lower lip again, laughing when you nipped at it.

“I’d like to take you out for dinner,” she said, voice husky and breathless.

“I’d like that too,” you said and something relaxed in her face, as if she’d been holding her breath, “I’d really really like that.”

“How’s tomorrow night?” she asked.

“Perfect,” you said, too quickly to be cool.

She chuckled, pressing another lingering kiss to your lips. And once again you were melting against her, uncaring that your confession hadn’t gone the way you planned it. It had still been perfect.

[lowpawly]

I think there's a lot of weird things going on in yoru's head right now that are causing her actions of intimacy towards denji. I think that being in asa's body and experiencing her every emotional and physical response is probably giving her reactions to things that she never had before. as a devil she probably never experienced the human sensations of love or sexual desire and the body she is inhabiting is sending her signals that are entirely new and that I doubt she fully understands. this panel from an earlier chapter definitely reads as more ominous foreshadowing of future events now

when asa tells denji she kissed him "because it felt good" after the alley scene, I really believe that's her reasoning. a significant part of yoru's character has been her impulsivity, over and over again she acts without plan or care which separates her from her more methodical sisters. makima used sexuality as a tool of manipulation, yoru acts on sexuality through confused impulse.

I think its telling that her most recent kiss with denji in this last chapter is in response to both his and her own panic, once again she is out of control of her situation and her (asa's) body is sending confusing signals when she's confronted with the boy asa likes.

I also think these reactions have to do with her strong emotions towards chainsaw man and her seeing of denji and pochita as one in the same. hate and love are two intense emotions and it can be hard to see the difference sometimes. considering how defensive she is after the initial incident in the alley I think that it's likely these feelings are fusing with asa's own affections towards denji.

yoru is a devil. this is likely the first time she has experienced any form of sexual desire and I imagine its both confusing and enthralling. unfortunately considering her nature as a devil I...can't see these feelings resulting in anything positive for either asa or denji, especially asa.

its funny, I actually don't see many people talk about how mortifying this situation is for asa, to see her body stolen from her and used for sexual acts that she's not ready for. the build up to physical and sexual affection is something people are supposed to take at their own pace, and for a lot of people is a precious and intimate experience. asa is having that ripped away from her before she's ready by a demon who couldn't care less. It hurt in the alley, and now it's going to hurt again. chapter 182 hasn't come out yet as of writing this post, but I have a feeling things are going to go in a bad direction and that asa is once again going to be helpless as her body is stolen from her.

I doubt yoru knows the weight of her own actions, but if she did I also doubt she would care.

after all, it is her body

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 12 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Asking your friends for help when you need it is starting to feel good instead of scary. Even listening to Cat open up doesn't sting like it once did. Bradley starts to have an ominous feeling about his upcoming mission, and when the details are revealed, he's left wondering what his career will be like in the future.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

There was truly something to be said for the way you felt after you talked to Dr. Genevieve. Even though your period was a few days late, and you had been holding out hope, you didn't go quite to pieces when it did end up starting. Sure, there were some tears as you opened up a new box of tampons, but you didn't dwell on it as much as you had the past several cycles in a row. 

In fact, when you thought you couldn't take the physical pain of your cramps and the mental pain as well, you called Maria. You told her that you didn't want to be alone and asked if she could stop by. And she came over with a backpack and some donuts. 

"What's in the bag?" you asked as you bit into a Boston cream. 

"Clothes for tomorrow," she replied, petting Tramp while she ate a chocolate donut with sprinkles. "I figured I could sleep over."

"You don't have to," you whispered, now feeling a little embarrassed. 

But she just shrugged. "I've been a little lonely, too. My new roommate has never been as fun as you were."

"Nobody is," you added, biting into a second donut. You figured you earned it, since you'd started to get back on track with what you were eating. "Thanks for joining me in the cafeteria at work."

"Thanks for actually coming to lunch. Cam is hella boring to eat with every day."

You groaned and headed for the couch with a bottle of wine. "Ugh, I left you hanging with Cam. I'm sorry." You were going to be better about taking care of everything. Yourself, your marriage, Bradley, and your friends. 

Maria just laughed and followed behind you with two glasses and a corkscrew. "I love him, but he's still a dude. And just inherently dumb. He can't help it."

The girl talk ended up spiraling into a great weekend, and when you went to work on Monday morning, you still felt good. And Bickel had been a saint, not acting weird or giving you too much distance at all since you broke down hard in his office. Sure, maybe he was asking you how you were feeling with a little more frequency, but he kept your workload the same and never questioned anything you handed in to him.

And then there was Cat. Since you kind of blew the Jake thing up in her face, she'd been very quiet. Jake was still claiming nothing was going on now, but you'd never have been able to get an answer out of Cat one way or the other. And now you were thinking maybe you should have just minded your own business. Because Jake seemed melancholy, and he hadn't actually ended things himself even after he learned about Uncle Hondo. 

"Good morning," you said to Cat later in the week when you walked into the lab. She seemed surprised you were greeting her.

'Hi," she responded, slipping back into her usual state of calm immediately. "If you're about to ask about the calculation set, I'm almost done. I just need another hour or two."

"No rush," you replied. "Um, actually, I was wondering if you wanted to join me for lunch today?"

She eyed you skeptically. "In the cafeteria?"

You shrugged. "Or my office?"

When Cat didn't respond right away, you wanted to kick yourself. But then she said, "I feel like you and I just keep getting off to bad start after bad start with each other. I'd like to eat with you, but I don't want to go down to the cafeteria. At all. Just looking at Lieutenant Seresin makes me want to hide."

"Care to elaborate?" you asked cautiously. 

She just smirked. "Sure. Over lunch. In your office."

---------------------------

Bradley had stripped down to his underwear and gym shorts, and he was currently trying his hardest to meditate on his bed. Bob had spent the last several weeks patiently trying to explain to him exactly what went into it, but Bradley would reach a state of calm and then inevitably get distracted. 

He cracked his eyes open to see Bob in a state of complete relaxation on his own bed. Something about this just didn't work as well for him, and his brain was buzzing, so Bradley reached for his notebook instead. There were too many things he wanted to write down. It felt like he wasn't going to be able to stop emptying out all of his feelings now that he started, and after several weeks, the notebook was mostly full. 

The desire to be at home was overwhelming. Thinking about eating homemade Marry Me Rooster with his wife perched on his lap was all that was getting him through this deployment. As soon as he was home, he'd make sure you knew exactly what you meant to him. There were no conditions on his love, and he was embarrassed and crushed that maybe he made you think there were. 

He only had a few more weeks to go. But things with the mission were looking abysmal. Slayer and Charmer were getting worse to deal with by the day, and the way the admirals praised them was beyond ridiculous. Like the shiny, new aviators were somehow better than the ones with more experience. Like Bradley, Nat and Bob couldn't keep up now. It was hard to keep believing that the admirals would actually put the best team together to complete the mission. 

"Wow," Bob suddenly said, stretching his arms over his head and removing his glasses. "That was a great session."

"Yep," Bradley agreed, nodding as he scribbled in the notebook. "Really good, Bob."

But the other man was already pulling the bedding up to his shoulders, and Bradley knew he'd be asleep soon. "Good for you," he muttered, returning to his notebook. 

Nat and Bob were so good to him, this deployment should have been a breeze. And it had improved since he got to talk to you over facetime in the commanding officer's quarters, but he thought he'd go ahead and start a countdown in the notebook anyway. Just eighteen more days until he should be arriving back in San Diego. And he was hoping like hell he would get to call you again before then. 

But a few days later, he still hadn't been selected for another facetime session. And Bob and Nat got called out onto the tarmac after dinner for a repairs inspection that was performed on their Super Hornet. So Bradley headed to the gym for a workout by himself, and the room was thankfully fairly empty. He put in his ear buds and got out his phone. He selected the playlist you made for him last year called This is what a gym playlist should sound like, Bradley and he smiled. 

Pretty soon he was sweating, working his way through some bicep curls, when he saw Slayer out of the corner of his eye. He would ignore him. No problem. Only two weeks left to go. Only a few more days until the mission. "Do not engage," Bradley muttered to himself. 

But of course he couldn't control what Slayer decided to do, and the idiot wandered over toward him. And then he snatched his phone off of the bench, and Bradley was on his feet immediately, still clutching the fifty pound dumbbell in his left hand. 

"What the hell do you want?" Bradley asked, plucking one ear bud out. "It's bad enough I have to see you in the classroom all day."

Slayer just laughed, and Bradley realized he was staring at his lock screen. "Just wanted another look at your wife. How much younger is she, old man? She got a grandpa fetish or something?"

Bradley's fingers tightened around the dumbbell, and he wished he'd given more of an effort to meditating with Bob. 

He was seething. And then Slayer asked him, "You know what? Why don't you just give me her number so I can keep her warm next time you're out of town?"

Bradley had to fight the urge to throw the dumbbell at him. "You talk an awful lot for someone so stupid."

"And you strut around like you own the place for something who can barely fly."

Bradley's blood was boiling now. The admirals had pumped these kids so full of bullshit, there was going to be no arguing with him. Instead he snatched his phone out of Slayer's hand and pocketed it. "And you're slow as shit versus an old man. Now get back to your bunk, it's almost curfew for the children."

Slayer smirked at him as he backed away toward an empty weight bench. "Just wait. You'll see."

--------------------------

You had made it this far, you could make it two more weeks. But you got your period again, right on time. And you knew it was ridiculous to get choked up when you had to get the tampons and pads out again, because Bradley wasn't even home. You hadn't had intercourse since he left six weeks ago. You knew there was no way. But just the idea of knowing another cycle was ending had tears stinging behind your eyes. 

When you heard the doorbell, you quickly washed your hands and rushed out to where Tramp was practically howling at the front door. "Chill out," you told him. "You'll be happy. You loved him last time."

"Hi," Cat said as soon as you opened the door, and you saw Hondo pull away in his green Chevy. Jeremiah was in her arms, and once again, he smiled when he saw you. Things at work were a lot better, including having several nice conversations with Cat.

"Sorry, little guy," you said softly as they came inside. "No Rooster this time."

Cat laughed. "I think your dog will suffice. He loves animals."

When you closed the door, you watched Tramp follow them over to the couch, and then he started licking Jeremiah's little hands nonstop while the baby laughed. "If he's annoying, I can put him out back for a bit."

"No," Cat said as she and her son both laughed. "This is great." And then Jeremiah broke free from her arms and stood with both hands on Tramp. And you swore your dog had never been happier either. 

A little pang of sadness struck your heart as Tramp looked all too delighted at the attention he was being given. You were searching for a safe topic of conversation. Cat had been joining you for lunch on occasion, which was great. But now you found that you had so many friends, you needed to juggle your time with them. Cam and Cat were a little awkward around each other. And Cat wouldn't tell you exactly how she felt about Jake, but you knew Jake was sad and Cat was avoiding him.

So you asked her, "You still feel like hiding from Jake at work?" It seemed like a safe enough topic, and you almost laughed when she covered her face and collapsed dramatically against the arm of the couch. 

"Please! You keep asking me about this!"

"I'm curious by nature," you claimed. "And you never really told me anything."

She glanced at you as Jeremiah went crawling across the floor after Tramp. "I'm still embarrassed that I even kissed him in the first place. Uncle Bernie and I had it out several times about all the push ups, but he was just trying to take care of me. And I know that sounds like an excuse, but... keeping someone like Jake away from me is probably his top priority while Jer and I are living with him."

You tried to keep your composure, because you and Cat seemed to finally be getting along, but you just couldn't understand why she wouldn't give Jake a chance for real. "He's a good guy, Cat. God... I can't even tell you how many times he's helped me out and made me feel safe."

She turned to face you where you sat at the other end of the couch. "He's exactly like my ex husband. A cocky, handsome aviator who is too smart for his own good."

You shrugged and kind of nodded, because that definitely sounded like Jake. "Well whatever your ex did to piss you off, I doubt Jake would be the same. Are you afraid he won't accept Jeremiah?"

She swallowed hard. "I'd rather not even find out where he stands on his opinions about my son. And listen, there's a reason why my ex husband never met Jeremiah. And it's the same reason I never let him know our son's social security number or where we ran off to. I'm sure he has a hunch that I was able to transfer to Top Gun, but Mike is definitely too scared to come sniffing around for more while I'm with Bernie."

You shook your head in confusion. "Come sniffing around for more of what?"

"Money," she said simply, but her jaw was set, and she looked ready for a fight. And you should have probably known all along that there was more than what she had told you over the past few months. You were pretty sure you were the only one who even knew about Jeremiah, besides Bradley and Cam. And if Cat was the type of person who took their time opening up to people, you were surprised that you were the one she was talking to about this.

"He wants your money?" you asked softly. 

Since she borrowed your car, you knew she didn't have one, and she said that she was broke. But your jaw dropped open when she said, "Mike was dishonorably discharged from the navy for showing up to work drunk and drinking while on base. He tanked his own career, and nobody in Annapolis could even look at me the same after that."

"Why would he do that?"

She laughed, but she looked like she was going to cry. "Because I told him I was pregnant."

Jeremiah was laying on his back now while Tramp licked his neck, and he was giggling up a storm. "I'm so confused," you told her. "He didn't want you to get pregnant?"

"Well he told me he would be happy to have kids. But by the time I told him I was pregnant with Jer, he had already opened four credit cards in my name. He had already lost all of our savings. And he knew I was going to find out about all of it as soon as I mentioned us opening a bank account for our unborn child."

"Oh."

When she met your eyes, she shook her head. "He has a gambling addiction." You watched as she wiped at her cheek. "I used to own a beautiful house," she said, glancing around longingly. "I had a car. He and I had money saved. But he managed to lose all of it, plus the credit card advancements in my name. I owe more than half a million dollars in money that I didn't spend. Money that I never saw. And that doesn't include what I've paid to my lawyers. Mike did all of that while I thought we were building a life together."

"Holy shit," you whispered. You felt nauseous just thinking about it. And you were suddenly even more thankful for Bradley.

"So yeah... cocky, headstrong aviators might be my type on paper, but I can't get involved. And I'm sorry I was leading Jake on. But, it's not just him. I can't get serious with anyone when my life is a trainwreck that I will never be able to recover from. I'm going to be spending the rest of my life trying to make sure this doesn't all fall to him," she said, nodding toward where Jeremiah was now crawling back toward the couch with Tramp following right behind him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I don't know what else to say except that you didn't deserve any of that, and neither did Jeremiah."

She reached down to scoop him up into her arms as he yawned. "Yeah well, I hope you're smarter than me. I hope you had a prenup."

You sat quietly and watched as she kissed Jeremiah's forehead and reached into the diaper bag she brought with her so he could eat some cereal. Cat had been honest with you. She told you months ago that she was jealous of you, and now you knew why. You had all these things that you were taking for granted. 

For some reason, you thought she ought to know that you'd been jealous all along, too. "You still have something so good though. Something I wish I had."

She looked at you like you'd completely lost it while Jeremiah ate some Cheerios. "What? A marriage that ended in shambles and a career that is hanging on by a thread? Or the inability to ever have someone take you seriously in a relationship ever again?"

"No. Jeremiah."

She looked at you, and her face dropped. "Oh." And maybe she realized that meant you and Bradley had been trying unsuccessfully, but you changed the subject before she could ask any questions. 

"But that doesn't matter, really. And you know, there are some things we do have control over here."

"Like what?" she asked, and when you smiled softly, she smiled back.

"Jake. I think you might be surprised by him, Cat. I think he'd be good with Jeremiah."

"No," she replied right away. "I'd rather not even find out. Besides, it's already too late with Jake. Even if he was going to stop sleeping around, it's done. He asked me out at least fifteen times. And I said no at least fifteen times."

"If he asked you out again, would you say yes?"

You jumped several inches when your doorbell rang again, and Tramp ran for the door like he was a professional guard dog. "We didn't even order a pizza yet," you said as you stood. But the closer you got to the door, you thought you knew who it must be, and you answered it anyway.

"Angel," Jake drawled, bending to pet Tramp who immediately turned into a puppy again at the prospect of pets from one of his favorite people. "Just thought maybe you'd want to get dinner and head to the Hard Deck later?"

When you didn't respond right away, Jake pushed the door open wider and let himself inside. Then you watched him freeze up as he saw Cat sitting on your couch with Jeremiah in her arms. "Cat."

She looked absolutely mortified as she stood up, but she had nowhere to go. She was reliant upon Hondo coming back to pick her up, and Jake was staring right at Jeremiah. "Jake," she said so softly, you could barely hear her across the room.

He huffed out a short breath and ran his fingers through his hair, past the scar on his forehead from the last time he was deployed with Bradley. You weren't sure what you should do, but then he simply said, "You have a kid."

Cat's chin was in the air again, and you knew she wouldn't let Jake or anyone else say one negative thing about that child without consequences. "His name is Jeremiah."

"Jeremiah," Jake repeated, and two sets of matching dark eyes were looking right at him before Jeremiah yawned and fell asleep on his mom's chest. "He's adorable."

Cat sank slowly down so she was sitting on the couch once again, and she looked like the fight was gone, almost like she was exhausted now. You nudged Jake in the ribs and then reached for Tramp's leash where it hung near the door. "I'll be right back. Just going to take him out." But nobody was listening to you. Once the leash was clipped on his collar, Tramp pulled you out onto the front porch. You caught one last glimpse of Jake taking up residence in the spot on the couch you'd vacated, and then you closed the door.

You puttered around the yard with Tramp before deciding to just walk him down to the beach and back. But the early spring air was chilly when the wind picked up across the sand, and you wished you'd taken a minute to grab Bradley's sweatshirt from the hook as well. 

Playing a comparison game in your mind would get you nowhere, you knew that. Everything Cat told you was completely fucked up, but she had to know how that Jeremiah was worth it. And you knew that Bradley was enough, even if it was just the two of you. But now you were a little worried about Jake putting his foot in his mouth. 

When you hustled back down your block, shivering as the breeze picked up some more, you saw that Jake's car was still in your driveway. And when you cautiously let yourself back inside with Tramp, you found Cat and Jake sitting very close together on the couch. And Jake was holding Jeremiah while he slept.

-------------------------

Bradley knew it would be a short call. The mission was scheduled for a few days from now, weather depending. But if he was allowed even five minutes with you, he'd take it any day of the week. 

When you answered his facetime call, you were sitting in your office with your lunch in front of you. "Roo!" you gasped, dropping your fork into your burrito bowl. "I miss you!"

"I miss you, too, Sweetheart."

He watched as you turned to someone off screen and said, "Okay, thanks."

"Who are you eating lunch with?"

"Cat," you replied quickly, and he was a little surprised by that answer. "She just stepped out into the hallway so we could talk. Please tell me you'll be home on time, Bradley."

He smiled and said, "Haven't been notified of any changes, so I think so. Please tell me you got plenty of hot sauce in there."

You laughed and tipped your lunch so he could see all of the green hot sauce. "Absolutely. You know how I like it."

"I do," he replied softly as he examined your face. Beautiful. Just gorgeous. And you looked so much happier now. You looked like you'd been sleeping better. 

"I wish I was sharing my lunch with you."

He nodded. "I've been thinking a lot about our dining room. And how it feels so good to hold you on my lap while we eat a meal off of one plate."

You gasped softly. "I've been thinking about that too." When your eyes drifted closed, you added, "And how you wrap your left arm around me and kiss my neck while he eat."

"Baby Girl." His voice was raspy, and he was aching to be with you right now. "We'll do everything." 

But he only had one more minute with you, and he wanted to know how you were doing. When he asked, you said, "I can tell you when you get home. Tell me about the mission."

"I can't say much. Teams get selected tomorrow morning. Flight is weather dependent. You know the drill."

"I do. I just want you to be safe," you told him softly. "Need you to come home."

"I'll be there so soon. I love you."

And after that, he still felt so good as he got to the classroom a few minutes early the next morning. Admiral Dean smirked at him as he took his usual seat, and the room started filling up. Other than the fact that he had to stare at the back of Slayer's head, he was ready to get this mission in the air and get home.

"As you well know," Admiral Dean started, "the final details will not be set in stone until the day of the mission. So we are left with two options, and we need to be clear on both of them. Option A: the two teams will fly in formation and strike the communications tower first before proceeding to the enemy base. This is the preferred option as we would be removing multiple streams of communication first, but we may need to switch to an alternate flight path if they have too many aircrafts in the air. So that brings us to Option B, in which you will strike the base first and then loop around to the communications tower."

Bradley's brain was literally numb from listening to this information over and over again. He understood the importance of what needed to be done, but this was overkill now. When he glanced at Nat, she looked like she was on the verge of falling asleep. Until Dean spoke again.

"If there are no questions, that brings us to team selections. Four aircrafts will be flying this mission. We've chosen the best, and I am already convinced of the success of this mission. The teams will be as follows: Slayer will be paired with Phoenix and Bob."

His heart sank. Shit. That was supposed to be Bradley's pairing. Fucking Slayer. But it probably didn't matter too much if he was flying alongside a different two-seater, just as long as he was in the air with his friends. Really, all four aircrafts were responsible for keeping each other safe, so he wouldn't be too far from them at all. 

"And the second team will be Charmer paired with Terror and Mack."

It took a second to register. But slowly, it seemed like everyone in the room was turning to stare at Bradley. Admiral Dean looked smug. Nat and Bob looked distraught. And Slayer looked damn near delighted. Then Charmer turned to him and laughed. 

And Bradley had the fleeting thought that his career was over. He was the oldest aviator in the room by a few years. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was falling short with proving himself in the air just as he had been messing things up on the ground with you. And that sick, embarrassed feeling in his stomach was there to stay as all those thoughts took up permanent residence in his mind.

-----------------------------

Oh. That stings. That really hurt my feelings. Bradley could fly circles around them. And how do we feel about Jake? Cat? Jeremiah? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 13

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

[elaemae]

The premium version of human is here to wreck house, mfs.

[Twst x ObeyMe!AFAB!reader]

CHP. 7

Again, I thank y'all for the reblogs, likes and comments guys, it really helps me :)

CW: Blue pronouns or address for MC every time they get mistaken for a guy. Also, I'm a potty mouth so MC is too.

Inhale..

Exhale....

Inhale......

Exhale.......

Inhale.........

Ex-fucking-hale.......

You're about to have a stroke right now.

You should've just went back to the goddamn infirmary instead of checking in on these obnoxious, bitch-less, probably father-less, motherfuckers.

It's just cleaning windows!! How the hell can you mess up like this?! Why the fuck did the cafeteria chandelier get involved??

GODDAMNIT!! WHY IS YUU INVOLVED AS WELL?! AHHHH—!

*One eternity of screaming like a banshee later*

After sending those damn kids and cat away to get some sort of magical stone in some godforsaken mine, you wrangled with the headmaster for at least two hours to prevent him from writing up the expulsion papers of Yuu and that Blue-haired kid who was mostly innocent about the ordeal.

(Meanwhile, encouraging him to kick that Ace kid and the damn cat off the school. You ain't about to let audacity run free rn, mostly because you feel yourself start genuinely tweaking as you almost got possessed by the urge to sucker punch someone's soul out of their body.)

[Satan perked up, there it was again.

That distinctive spark of wrath that he can feel through your pact with him is both concerning and comforting.

On one hand, the anger he feels means that you're alive. And seeing that what he's feeling through the pact is mostly annoyance, then that must mean that nothing marginally bad or traumatizing had happened to you yet.

You're actually more pissed off in a 'someone-had-the-audacity-to-eat-my-snacks' kind of way more than anything else, meaning that you're safe for now.

But on the other hand, he doesn't know how long that temporary safety will last.

There's also the fact this is the fourth time he'd felt that spark of 'I-wanna-punt-someone-into-the-fuckin-sun' kind of anger from you, which is worrying because it hasn't even been 48 hours since you were kidnapped by some mf.

He shook his head, calling upon a subordinate (read: Devoted fan) to collect more and more books to learn what type of teleportation and sleeping magic was used in your kidnapping.

With the massive search party spanning all three realms that they'd called upon, they will find you sooner or later.

And once they do...

Well... You'll need to get used to being with someone at all hours of the day.]

*Passive-aggresively reminding Crowley that he can't kick out an innocent kid for something they didn't directly do as they had no way of stopping the events that transpired.*

["You don't want the word to get out that you let an innocent teen roam around in a foreign world with absolutely nothing to their name and nobody to protect them, right?"

"That is true, but I still can't just let this go unpunis–"

"Especially when it's the school's faulty equipment that took them so far away from all of their loved ones and belongings, right?"]

Needless to say, Yuu ended up being "fired" in the end, quite an unfortunate result because they will need to freeload off of you until the end of your stay in this world. (Poor them, they got fired before they knew that they had a job in the first place.)

Oh well, it's better than being kicked out from practically their only way back home right now...

Hays... That cruel crow..

Anygays, it's time to snoop around and hopefully make some connections to the residents of this school.

This is a well-known college, right? So there should be influential people here somewhere...

Hehe.. It's time you bring out your gaslight, gatekeep, gold-digging skills so that you can girlboss your way into stability inside this foreign world.

• • • • • •

Suddenly, more than a dozen individuals felt a strong shiver run up their spines.

Haha... Well that's ominous!

• • • • • •

Ortho deadpanned at his brother.

It seems that almost burning down their dorm room last night isn't enough to deter him from making his [Mr. L/n x reader] fanfiction complete with mandatory fan art for every single chapter.

Haaa....

But at least his brother isn't 'fanboying' about another fictional character again...

Hm... Now that he thinks about it..

Maybe his brother will be more inclined to make friends if it's Mr. L/n!

And thus begins Ortho's journey of being an unknowing wingman as he tries to get his introverted brother to make friends.

• • • • • •

You narrowed your eyes as you looked at the small gift on top of your temporary bed in the infirmary.

Dats suspicious....

Dats weird......

You turn your necklace into a staff and start poking the box, trying to see if it'll suddenly turn into a horrific eldritch monster and jump you. (Won't be the first time that happened.)

• • • • •

"It is done, ××× ×× ××××××" (This is too easy to guess😑)

• • • • •

Diavolo sighed for the tenth time that hour, lamenting how trying to focus on his paperwork is a really hard task when MC gets thrown into the situation.

'Maybe a small break will help clear my head?'

He might as well just go out for a walk in the garden to get some fresh... air...

Oh? what is this?

His eyes scanned the dark envelope he'd seen wedged under the 'To burn' stack of paperwork in his desk.

This envelope wasn't here yesterday...

After confirming that the piece of paper wasn't cursed or charmed, he opened it with apprehension.

...!

This..!

• • • • •

Barbatos appeared in the office, tense as he'd heard his lord call out his name with haste.

Reading the letter shoved in front of his face by the serious Diavolo, Barbatos made a mental note to get the dungeon chambers ready.

They've got themselves a lead.

← Pr.6 | Chapter List | Chp. 1.1 →

Just tell me if y'all wanna get added in the permanent taglist, even if I already tagged y'all here.

That's just so I'll know if you wanna get tagged in all the upcoming chapters of this fanfic.

@caprinaesprout

@iameliseposts

@leviathans-tail-scales

@twst-om-lover

@a-traveling-void-human

Reblog or I'll take your ankles😈 (Pls like and reblog, it really gives me motivation🥺)

Also, the next chap is the start of Arc 1: Satan but short.

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Stone Heart AU: Scar pt I

As much as Yuu tried, she still ended up in trouble in trouble sometimes. Be it with Ace and Deuce, or just running late from acting as Crowley’s unofficial gopher, it was something. The punishments usually weren't that bad though, sometimes even relaxing.  

Like right now, it was a little bit of a trip down memory lane as she scrubbed the statues down on Main Street. It was odd, having the dreams that she did that painted the Great 7 in shadows instead of light, but it felt...right. Balanced.  

A story about a maid who would be going to a ball was the current dream cycle, though she didn’t get the feeling this one was going to relate to any upcoming overblots. While they didn’t happen as often, she occasionally just dreamt of things like this. While there was a lot to ruminate over, like the stepmother and Professor Trien, right now it was just a catchy little song sung by the fairy stuck in her head.  

“Put it together-” The King of Beasts statue wasn’t in bad shape at least, “and what do you got-” Just had to get the moss out of his eye, “Bippity Boppity Boo!” 

The eye blazed green, cracking open with a clap of thunder!  

Yuu fell, catching herself with her hands. Shit! Did she break it? Damnit, she couldn’t afford- 

Wait. It looked fine. Just a wet statue.  

“Maybe I just need to finish this up.” She muttered. “Lack of sleep must be getting to me.”  

The atmosphere had changed, the tension of a storm about to break open. As she finished the King of Beasts, she clocked her progress and ran, feeling like eyes followed her until she turned the corner.  

Malleus must be in a mood, she thinks, watching the dark clouds forming and the green smoke that seems to be spilling out the fence of Ramshackle. It isn’t the right shade of green though, more muted and not as...saturated? The gate creeks ominously and it doesn’t take her long to notice the figure sitting on the porch of Ramshackle.  

He is hunched over, a shawl tossed over his head that was once bright with color and design, now faded to grays, browns and darker reds like blood. His left eye is as green as the Diasomnia mage crystals, clear and unclouded, and the right faded as the green smoke around him. A gnarled staff is gripped in his hands, a gourd tied to the top with a handful of what might be rib bones along with some sort of dried fruit she thinks.  

This isn’t a harmless man, her instincts can say that much, but...he doesn’t feel like a threat. He could be. He’s choosing not to.  

“How can I help you?” Yuu asks, getting a bit closer. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you a teacher here?”  

He chuckles, making the pointed beard shake, but it’s not cruel. “I suppose that depends on you. I think you are in need of a teacher. And I am in need of a place to stay.” 

“What do I need to learn?”  

“Magic.”  

“Ha!” Yuu can’t help it, barking a laugh. “You are mistaken. I have no magic of my own.” 

“No, cub, you have magic, just not Wonderland magic. You have the Old magic, older even than General Lilia, the same as I. These teachers cannot help you, but I can.”  

He removes the shawl’s hood from his face, revealing a pair of brown lion ears and a mane that puts Yuu’s hair to shame. Even braided in parts to keep it out of his face, the long black hair stretches all the way down to his curved spine. A tail thumps against the dusty steps,  

“Afterall, you freed me, didn’t you?”  

It takes some explaining, a quick meal shared on her dining room table that feels even more rundown than usual with actual royalty sitting down. Thank the Seven that Grim was asleep beforehand, his new Spelldrive practices tiring him out in the evenings.  

“So, are the others...the same? Petrified?”  

“Yes, though you aren’t ready to free us all just yet. I was an accident, correct?” 

She flinches, nodding. “I mean, I guess? Sometimes I have dreams. Alternate tellings of the stories around here it feels like, or added details? Most of the time they follow an Overblot, but this one just felt like a non-threatening one. I don’t have these as often.”  

“Precognition is a dangerous magic, especially with no guiding tools.” 

“I dont know if-” 

“You dreamt of mine, did you not? Leona Kingscholar? The Phantom still was a part of me, drawn from my form and magic.”  

Yuu blinked, shrugging. “I mean, it didn’t stop it.” 

“No, but you were more prepared. You were willing and ready to accept Leona’s trauma and show compassion because you witnessed me make the exact follies and look at how that ended.” he huffed, taking a sip from his water. 

She hadn’t considered that really. It just felt natural, to show them kindness after all of it. But they were alike. Really alike. And the actions Leona had taken paralleled his perfectly.  

“Do you think if somebody had done so with you, you would have listened?” 

“Oh cub!” He laughed, and this one felt harsher. “I would not have. I was far too hardened. But Leona...he will be better.”  

“Well, I better try and at least get a bed ready for you.” She said, taking both of their dishes. “What do I call you though? King of Beasts is a bit of a mouthful.”  

He tilts his head, as if considering. She gets the dishes loaded and leftovers put away before he finally answers.  

“Taka. My Mother’s Son.” he says. “That’s who I wish to be now.”  

Yuu smiles, sticking out her hand.  

“Nice to meet you, Professor Taka! I look forward to learning from you.”  

For just a moment, he sees Simba, and Nuka and Kovu and Vitani. He sees Shenzi, Banzai and Ed. He sees naive and friendly and believes in him, for as little he has to offer, and still finds him worthy.  

He shakes her hand and hangs his stone heart to air out.  

[thatlittleviolin]

//A little ramblig about eddie dear bc i cant stop thinking about him

Im not joking when i say this whole post was inspired after seen @//purple-raspberries “the mailman” drawing because O MY STARS WHAT IS THAT DRAWINgGGGGGG /pos

Okay so anyway, whats up with Eddie Dear? As, like, an active character of Welcome Home?

Something rubs me in the wrong way when it comes to him as a whole, not that I dislike him, pretty… much the opposite (thats why I'm making this post) actually, but I feel he is more relevant to the lore than what ppl give him credit for.

Even way before the past-year (2023) Halloween and Homewarming updates, I felt that he must simply be more than what is presented to us about him:

- He is the only character who sees all the rest of the neighbours every day due to his work

- He is one of the few if not the only one who is confirmed to be from outside of Home

- He brings one of the TWO functional clocks in all of Home (which could well be due to the nature of his work, but it doesn't take away from the fact that it's curious)

And I know, ik, this is not a lot. In fact, I believe this is not crucial info, but I want to mention it because it gives, in some way, a certain statement: Eddie Dear is not like everyone else. It differentiates him from the others.

There's simply something intriguing about him; and I constantly think about how, again, he's the resident who interacts most with his neighbors, the most helpful and willing to do anything, and despite that, he's the one who gets the most hits?

Hes always in a rush because he likes helping others, he's clumsy and yet he does his job in a stellar way and yet he goes the more underappreciated by his neighbors and its the first one to get to have his own personal breakdown during the Homewarming

Keep in mind, I don't mean that the other characters are bad or smth, we all know that inside they care for each other and are a pretty nice neighborhood-

But yea, starting with the most obvious, Howdy and Sally are downright condescending, bordering on rude to him. Howdy ignores him or pays half attention when he goes to deliver merchandise to the Bugdega and tries to start a conversation, and despite this, we can see that Howdy asks him for help to deliver things to someone else.

More specifically, during a hidden audio, we can hear that he uses Eddie to deliver an order of bowling balls to Julie DESPITE Howdy having a home delivery system and probably being able to better handle the weight of the merchandise, being at least two heads taller than Eddie, right when Eddie had just told him he had a very tiring day (of course he didn't hear that)

Sally, on her side, is condescending to him to the degree that when we hear them interacting, at least until now, it's mostly her giving him orders. Heck, Sally has a "long name" for every resident EXCEPT Eddie, whom she usually just calls "Mailman" for everything.

Julie and Frank tend to be more passive about it, but it doesn't take away from the fact that they also end up... taking advantage a bit? Or leaving him a bit aside. I know, I know, we all ship FranklyDear here, but it still bothers me how during "Eddie's big lift" (+ another hidden audio) we're shown how Julie tends to involve him in her games without much consideration as to whether Eddie even understands them to begin with, and Frank, despite acknowledging that he works hard and often overworks for everyone, leaves him lying on the ground. They don't even wait for him to get up to say goodbye properly, they just leave him there and go home. It's a bit sad to hear how Eddie talks to himself while getting up and dusting himself off.

And finally, one that I understand is a joke but serves as a transition to my next point: Barnaby and his constant gag of chasing Eddie around the neighborhood as soon as he sees him making his deliveries, or insisting that Eddie lifts him up because “he's just a puppy”. I won't delve into this (not now) because I know that overall that's Barnaby's way of joking; Eddie is not his only victim, but when you mix it with everything said above, it gives off some weird vibes.

It's as if Eddie was the typical "punching bag" character of the show's creators; you know, the one created so that the fun we get from him is at his expense, and sadly, somehow that fact makes sense to me as to why he's the first to have a "breakdown" during Homewarming and said breakdown has to do with, what else? his isolation and probable sadness.

During Sally's history and Poppy's confinement in her own house, there were two predominant themes: what happens when we're in the dark, what lurks in the shadows and whatnot, and isolation: Sally talks about this but Poppy experiences it first hand; shes alone and in the dark, house bricked to the top. However, Eddie gets overwhelmed despite being surrounded by everyone and, clearly, in a lit environment.

My opinion? Said loneliness and darkness don't necessarily need to be tangible, and in Eddie's case, they come from a mental place. My dear doesn't seem to have too much appreciation for himself, constantly letting people get the help they want (need, of course) from him at the cost of his own well-being. Eddie Dear is not happy, in fact, I feel he puts himself down a bit, which equates to darkness, and when he can distract himself from this fact again, Home reminds him; and his loneliness comes in a literal-but-not way. Eddie is never alone, that's evident, but again, in the Homewarming video we're not only emphasized that he's upset and confused because no one has asked him for help, but because he DOESN'T KNOW how to handle his own activities outside of work. Anything that doesn't have to do with the post office but is more personal overwhelms him because he's not used to thinking outside of how he should help others because that's his "only" way of interacting with them. Eddie needs to be needed in order to be closer to others, and when that's not the case, it frustrates him so much that it even seems like anger.

Heck, it's even sad how Sally mentions that nobody bothered him with the usual tasks they would require him for to give him a day off, and then downright nobody interacted with him. Not even Julie called him to play. When Sally finds him under Home's tree, she asks him to escort her to Home for the Homewarming and it's narrated that they're the last to arrive, but if Eddie hadn't left his house then... what? Would he have stayed there? (Lowkey I theorize that he wouldn't have, because of the fact that Sally and Frank seem to have more awareness than the others, I feel like she was actually waiting for him)

Personally, I consider that when it comes to a case like Eddie's, it's even worse, because you don't need to be actively in a closed and dark place, isolated (in what voluntary situation would someone have to be like that?) for your head to go completely to shit. Think about it, you make Home angry and he doesn't need the rest of the neighbors to build a wall around you. It does what you already do well: it locks you up with your thoughts and leaves you there.

So,,, uh, yeah, I don't know how to end this.

I just wanted to talk about my fav man.

somebody help him PLAEASSE