#angel beats nearly killed me

[hellcifrogs]

I saw someone mention Menma and all I could think about was the ghost girl from Anohana and was very confused.

I haven't watched Anohana bc I'm a super crybaby and can't stand sad stories 🥲

[hauntingblue]

Kaido lore?!

[theostrophywife]

shut up kiss me.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

song inspiration: shut up kiss me by angel olsen.

author's note: everyone say thank you to my love @writingsbychlo for fueling my delusions. constantly spamming her with my ideas because i have no self control when it comes to this man. there’s just something about theo fighting that makes me absolutely feral but i’ll hush now before i spoil it 🤭

Theodore. Fucking. Nott. 

Those three words fueled your rampage as you marched across the quidditch pitch. The audacity of that cocky, arrogant, silver tongued Slytherin knew no bounds. For years, you tolerated the pompous prick and the rivalry between you, but today he had finally gone too far. 

You cleared the field in less than a minute, passing by confused players as you angrily seethed. You spotted a shock of familiar platinum blonde hair and walked right up to Draco Malfoy. 

“Where the hell is he?”

He chuckled, perfectly aware of your longstanding enmity with his closest friend. “What’s he done this time?”

“Where. Is. He?” you repeated through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me ask again, Malfoy.” 

The blonde paled several shades when he saw the fire burning in your gaze. “Locker rooms. I wouldn’t go in there, Y/N. They’re still shower—“ Draco sighed as you brushed past him. “Whatever, it’s your funeral.”

The locker rooms were steamy, the heat and humidity clinging to your school uniform as you stalked through the aisles. The Slytherin players startled when they spotted you amongst their midst. 

“Well, well, well,” Mattheo drawled as he leaned against the wall. A towel hung dangerously low on his hips and he smirked when your eyes flickered over his body. “What do we have here? A sweet little Hufflepuff marching straight into the viper’s den.”

“Where the fuck is he, Riddle?”

Mattheo grinned lazily. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, sweetheart.” 

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Your arrogant prick of a friend who sent my fucking date to the hospital wing!” 

Before you went to sleep last night, you had done so with a grin on your face after a wonderful date with Alec Stone at the Three Broomsticks, but then you arrived at breakfast this morning with no Alec in sight and the rumor mill rampant with talks of Theo pummeling some poor Ravenclaw in the courtyard. 

You were going to kill him. 

“Sorry, love. Doesn’t ring a bell.” 

You frowned, purposely bumping against Mattheo as you walked further down the dimly lit aisle. In your trail for vengeance, you ran into a very flustered looking Enzo who yelped as he sought to cover his very naked torso. 

“Y/N,” Enzo said, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist. “What are you doing in the locker rooms?”

Behind him, the sound of the shower running echoed against the marble tiles. “Is he in there?”

Berkshire’s face fell. “You heard about the fight?” 

“It wasn’t a fight,” you said angrily. “He pummeled Alec so badly that he’s currently in the hospital wing with a concussion and several broken bones.”

“Just hear him out, okay?” 

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “Hear him out? Your precious Theodore beat the absolute shit out of my date and you want me to hear him out? For what? What reason could Theo possibly have for doing what he did to Alec? He couldn’t stand to see me have fun for two fucking seconds? This is low even for him and you know it, Enzo.”

“You don’t know the whole story, Y/N.” 

“Well then please point me in the right direction so I can hear from the arsehole himself.” 

“He’s in there,” Enzo said, pointing to the shower stalls. “But I’m warning you, Y/N. He’s in a proper foul mood.” 

You huffed. “That makes two of us.” 

The steam from the showers rose up like a malevolent fog, curling around your feet as you stormed through the stalls. You found him in the farthest corner, water trickling down his back as he faced the tiled wall. His body language was tense, like a serpent preparing to strike. A crimson trail swirled against the marble as blood dripped from Theo’s bruised knuckles. The sight of it incensed you. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Theo whipped his head towards your direction, his dark curls plastered against his cheek. Those watercolor eyes were stormy, the blues and greens flickering with anger as he met your gaze. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said dismissively. 

“Bullshit!” You countered, stepping further into the stall. The steam barely covered Theo’s naked form, but you weren’t about to let that deter you from demanding answers. “You owe me a fucking explanation.”

“For what?” 

“For what?” you repeated incredulously. “You beat Alec within an inch of his life and that’s all you have to say for yourself? Honestly Theodore, have you gone absolutely mental?” 

“He deserved it.” 

“Why? Because he took me out on a date? Because you couldn’t stand to let me have this one thing? You absolutely loathe the idea of me being even remotely happy, don’t you?” 

Theo clenched his fists as his jaw twitched in anger. “No. I loathe the idea of that miserable excuse of a human being breathing the same air as you.” 

“So you beat him to a bloody pulp?” 

His voice was cold and icy, cutting through you like glass. “He’s lucky I didn’t do worse.”

“What do you have against Alec?” You moved closer to Theo, closing the gap as you poked his chest. The shower streamed over the both of you, blurring your vision. The water was hot against your skin, but it paled against the heat of your own anger. “What did he ever do to you, Theo?” 

Theo gripped your wrist. You were vaguely aware of his nakedness, but he made no move to hide it and you were too furious to even care. “Don’t say his name. I can’t bear to hear you say it after what he said about you this morning.” 

You stepped backward, flinching. “What—what are you talking about?” 

When you met his gaze, you startled. You’d never seen Theo this angry before. His eyes, which were usually dead and expressionless, burned with a cold sort of fury. 

“I heard him in the courtyard, bragging to his stupid friends. I thought he was just chatting shit, so I kept back. I only came down for a smoke, but then he said your name.” 

The pit in your stomach grew. “What did he say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not if he was this angry over it.

“The stupid fucking prick was talking about your date. The dress you wore. The smiles you gave him. The hand holding through Hogsmeade. Then one of his gormless mates asked if he got lucky.” 

You froze at his words as a horrible feeling washed over you. Theo loosened his grip on your wrist, but didn’t let go. 

“Do you know what that sodding idiot said? I will, soon enough. I can tell she’s raring to go.” 

Tears pricked at your eyes. You felt like you were going to be violently sick. 

“And his friends—those miserable fucking wankers started betting on how long it would take. Two dates. Three. A month.” Theo’s hands were shaking, violence spilling over into his veins. “That smug tosser smirked and said he could’ve had you out in the hallway. That’s how eager you were.”

“I barely even touched him!” you said angrily. “I kissed his cheek good night and that was it.” 

“I know,” Theo said, his voice low and rough. “I know you. I knew he was lying, so I fucking lost it. I walked over there and just punched and punched until my knuckles were bloody and bruised and all I could see was red. I wanted to wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his mouth.” 

You could picture Theo putting out his cigarette ever so calmly before walking over to throw the first punch. You’d seen him fight before. He was relentless. Where Mattheo was pure fire and rage, Theo was as cold as ice. There was nothing but lethal calm in those dead eyes as he delivered blow after blow in absolute silence. 

“Eventually, Blaise and Enzo pulled me off of that prick.” He averted his gaze as if remembering the moment. “When his idiot friends finally peeled him off the floor, I spit on the fucker. I told him to consider it a warning. That I’d do a lot worse if I ever heard your name come out of his mouth again. I promised him that a concussion would be the least of his worries if he didn’t stay the fuck away from you.”

The tears fell down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them in. The anger all but faded from Theo’s eyes as soon as he realized that you were crying. You were so, so stupid. For thinking Alec was a nice guy. For being so giddy after your date only for him to turn around and spit vile lies about you. 

For crying in front of your worst enemy.

The color drained from Theo’s face as you cried into your hands. You felt him shift beside you, debating whether or not to come closer. 

“Don’t,” you said through a broken sob. “Don’t come near me.” 

Theo flinched at your words, looking visibly pained. His voice was soft and soothing when he spoke again. “Tell me how to fix it. Do you want to yell at me? Punch me? Go ahead, love. I can take it.” He sounded desperate. “Just please, please don’t cry.” 

You hugged your arms around your waist and glared at him. “Why do you even care?” 

He paused, fingers flexing at his side as he fought the urge to reach out and comfort you. 

“Because I care about you!” The exasperation in his voice made your chest tighten. “I care that you let that stupid idiot take you on a date to the Three Broomsticks. I care that you fucking smiled at him when he gave you roses even though I know you prefer sunflowers. I care that you kissed him on the cheek when he dropped you off at your dorm.”

You sniffled, utterly perplexed at his words. “I don’t understand. We hate each other!” 

Theo visibly softened, the tension leaving his body. “I could never hate you, Y/N.” He reached for your hand. Your first instinct was to pull away, but you let him trace soothing circles on your skin. “I may tease you. Prank you. Annoy you. But I’ve never hated you.” 

Theo wiped the dried up tears from your cheeks. No fresh tears, which he took as a good sign. “I don’t even think you remember this, but I tried asking you to the Yule Ball in fourth year.” 

The memory surfaced. You were reading by the Black Lake and Theo had asked if you had a date. You said no, to which he promptly asked if he could take you. You left in a huff, thinking that it was just another way to rile you up. 

“I thought you were just trying to get a rise out of me. If I would’ve known…” 

Theo paused. “How could you not know? How could you not see?” 

The rage crashed against you like an errant wave. You didn’t know if you were angry at Theo or yourself, but you exploded either way, unable to keep your emotions under control. 

“Because you never told me, you idiot!”

“I never told you, but I showed you.” He smiled crookedly. “I'm not good with words, obviously. Every time I open my mouth it’s like I say the perfect combination of words to piss you off. So I learned to tell you how I felt through my actions.” 

“Haven’t you ever wondered why your favorite study spot in the library is always free? That’s because I threatened anyone who came near it. Or how you never seem to run out of quills despite the fact that you manage to break one every day from how hard you write? I always replaced them when you weren’t looking.” Your heart clenched at his words. “I even bribed first years to bring you hot chocolate when I knew you were pulling all nighters.” 

You stood there, staring at him. This wasn’t the cocky, arrogant Theo that you knew. He was looking at you so earnestly that it physically hurt how endearing it all was. 

“Why would you let me think that you were an inconsiderate jerk this whole time?” 

Those hypnotizing eyes pierced right through you, filled with a sadness so heavy that you felt it weighing on your chest. 

“Because at least you were thinking of me.”

You swayed gently. The water had long seeped into your bones, making you shiver as all of your clothes stuck to your skin like paper. You were convinced that your body had gone into shock. The range of emotions you were currently experiencing was turbulent to say the least. You stood in stunned silence, just taking it all in. Then the impact of his words hit you all at once. 

Theo watched as your bottom lip trembled. Panic seized him as you began crying again, this time not bothering to hide it from him. “Fuck I’m sorry, Y/N. Please don’t cry.” 

He didn’t know what to do. Should he comfort you? Should he keep his distance? Theo felt like he was doing a rather exceptional job of mucking things up. 

“Why are you saying sorry?” You said between hiccups. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Theo caressed your cheek. So gently. Like he half-expected you to recoil. That only set a fresh wave of tears to spill onto your cheeks. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, love.” 

“Of course I do!” you nearly wailed. “I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve thought the worst of you, but all this time you were doing all these sweet, considerate things and I never even noticed. You should’ve told me, Theo.” 

“I—I didn’t think you’d ever see me that way,” Theo said softly. “It was better to have you hate me and still be part of my life than risking not having you in it at all.” 

Because at least you were thinking of me. 

It was the saddest thing that you’ve ever heard. For years, Theo settled for being your enemy because he’d rather have your hatred and loathing than indifference. He sustained himself on the bare minimum because he thought that was all he deserved. 

“I’m sorry, Theo. I’m so so fucking sorry.” 

Theo was absolutely distressed. “Fuck, look Y/N. Let me just finish up here and get my towel and when I’m dry and slightly less naked then we can talk, okay?” 

You sniffled, wiping your tears away. There was no way you could wait. Not after everything Theo had just told you. Not after everything that he’s been telling you all these years. Theo had literally and figuratively laid himself bare before you. The least you could do was to even the playing field. 

So you unlaced the gold and black tie around your neck. Unbuttoned your blouse and threw it somewhere behind you. Stepped out of your skirt and stared at Theo head on. 

“Oh—Merlin’s beard, what in the hell are you doing, Y/N? Are you trying to send me into cardiac arrest?” 

You shook your head, smiling slightly. Theo was determined to look everywhere but at your very exposed body. You were still in your bra and panties, but the black lace really didn’t leave much to the imagination. Especially when the water clung to every inch of your skin. 

“You were vulnerable with me,” you said simply. “So I’m returning the favor.” 

Theo felt like he was definitely headed for an early grave. He tried to think of something—anything—other than the girl he’s been head over heels for since third year standing naked in front of him.

“Theo,” you said softly. His name had never sounded half as good coming out of anyone else’s mouth. He wanted to bottle the sound. “Can I—can I hug you?” 

He could’ve sworn that his heart had stopped beating. The air had all but left his lungs, deflating his entire body as though he’d fallen off his broom and plummeted through the sky at breakneck speed. 

Theo didn’t recognize his own voice as he said, “Of course you can, Y/N.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you dashed into his arms, nearly toppling him over from the force of it. You were a tiny little thing, but you were stronger than you looked. He smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes as you hugged him. For a minute you and Theo just stood there under the trickling water, holding each other as though you were the only two people alive. 

If this was all the affection you were willing to give him, Theo would’ve been content to hold onto you until you grew tired of him. His slender fingers traced down your spine, drawing soothing circles against your skin as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You felt safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen as long as you were with him.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like this. There was just this spark between you. Perhaps that was part of the reason why you had been so angry this morning. 

It hadn’t just been because Theo sent Alec to the hospital wing, which you were now thankful for after hearing all the disgusting things he said about you. It was also because you thought that he had ruined your chance of feeling that rush with someone else. The same rush you got when the two of you were arguing. The same rush that was noticeably missing when you kissed Alec last night. 

Things with Theo had always been electric. You attributed it to mutual loathing, but that wasn’t the full story. Sure he made your blood boil sometimes, but he also made you feel alive. You were terrified to admit it to yourself, which is probably why you said yes to Alec in the first place. 

You sighed as Theo’s fingers tangled through your hair. He gently pulled your head back and looked at you in the most heartbreaking way. 

“Y/N,” he said hoarsely. Theo’s gaze dipped to your mouth as his arm snaked around your waist. “I think I might die if I go one more second without kissing you. Will you please put me out of my misery, love?” 

You couldn’t help but smile. “Gladly.”

Theo held his breath as you pulled him down to you, lips brushing shyly at first. Then you leaned in and kissed him. And he truly and honestly thought that he had died. 

Your lips were soft against his, tasting of strawberries and mint toothpaste. He cupped the back of your head and tilted your chin to deepen the kiss. Before, Theo thought he could’ve sustained himself from a simple hug, but right now, he couldn’t even control himself as he gorged himself on your taste. 

He chuckled when you tried and failed to get on your tiptoes to offset the height difference between you. Theo caressed your cheek and smiled against your mouth. 

“Need some help, love?” 

You nodded before pulling him back down again. This time, the tender kisses turned more heated as he locked your legs around his waist and pressed your back against the wall. You gasped as the cold tile made contact with your bare skin and Theo took the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. 

Merlin’s beard. Theo kissed with his entire body. There wasn’t an inch of you that wasn’t touching him and the skin to skin contact set your body on fire. You’d kissed other boys before, but they paled in comparison. You couldn’t get enough of Theo. You ran your fingers through his hair. Wrapped your legs more tightly around his waist. Trailed kisses along his jaw and neck and throat. 

Then he fucking moaned. 

It was a low, rumbling sound that sent tremors over your body and shook every fiber of your being like a devastating earthquake. You wanted to hear him make that sound over and over again. 

“Y/N,” Theo said, his forehead dropping to yours. “Before I lose all sense of self, I want to—no—I need to tell you—”

“What is it, Theo?”

“If we do this, then you have to understand what it means to me,” Theo whispered. “I may be terrible with words, but it’s important for me that you hear me when I say this. I want you. Not just physically, but in every sense of the word. I wanted you in third year when you first told me off for being a dick to the first years and I want you now even though you came in here to defend a prick that definitely doesn’t deserve it.” 

“What are you saying, Theo?” 

“I want you to be mine, Y/N.” 

You beamed. “Like, your girlfriend?”

“I don’t think girlfriend is a strong enough word to express how I feel for you, but it’s a start.” He moved the hair out of your face and cradled your cheek. “So yes, I suppose I do want you to be my girlfriend. I want to hold hands with you in the hallways. I want to look up at the stands during my games and see you cheering me on. I want to take you up to the Astronomy Tower and kiss you under the stars.” 

“And you say you’re bad with words,” you teased. “I want to do all those things and more with you, Theodore Nott. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“Good, cause you’re mine.” Theo said matter-of-factly, those adorable dimples making an appearance on each cheek. “You were mine even before you knew it.” 

He kissed you again, but this time it was soft and sweet and it filled your stomach with butterflies. Theo no longer felt the need to hoard as much of your affection as he could because you had just given him the ultimate reassurance that he would have plenty of you in the future. 

You sighed contently against him, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. He shifted, pressing kisses against your neck. Your fingers froze when you felt him stir underneath you. 

“Theo,” you said slowly, biting back a smirk. “Is that what I think it is pressing against my leg?” 

He groaned. “We’re half naked, in the shower, heavily making out, and you just agreed to be my girlfriend. Of course I’m hard.” 

You stifled a laugh. “Theodore Nott, is emotional intimacy turning you on?” 

“Everything about you turns me on.” 

“That’s helpful to know,” you said with a little smirk. “Especially when we're dueling and I’m losing.” 

“Merlin’s beard. My girlfriend’s downright evil.” 

You grinned so hard that your cheeks ached. Theo peppered kisses all over your face before setting you down. 

“I suppose we should head to dinner soon. My teammates watched you march in here in a fit of rage. They might think you’ve murdered me.” 

“There’s only one problem,” you said as you finally turned off the shower. “I’m soaking wet.” 

“I bet you are, darling.” 

You rolled your eyes. “From the shower, you wanker.” 

He grinned and kissed the top of your head. “It’s alright. I’ve got some extra clothes in my locker.”

Ten minutes later, the two of you walked out in the quidditch pitch hand in hand. Theo’s sweater completely enveloped you and he smiled a little at the sight. You received a few interesting stares as you made your way through the castle halls, but one look from Theo and they all quickly found something else to gawk at. Having a scary boyfriend was already paying off. 

On the way to dinner, you ran into Enzo. The git had the biggest smile on his face when he saw that you and Theo were holding hands. “So you heard him out after all, huh?” 

“Yeah, we sorted out our differences,” you said with a smile. “Coincidentally, I gained a boyfriend out of the whole ordeal. Happy now, Berkshire?” 

“Absolutely chuffed,” Enzo said with a grin. “See you lovebirds at dinner.” 

Theo rolled his eyes as his friend disappeared into the Great Hall. He turned, squeezing your fingers. “I should warn you. My friends can be a bit…much.” 

“Don’t worry, I think we all got fairly acquainted in the locker rooms. If they tease us, well I’ve got a perfectly scary boyfriend to fend them off.” 

He chuckled. “A scary boyfriend with an even more terrifying girlfriend.” 

You winked, kissing his bruised knuckles. “This school won’t know what hit them.” 

“Neither did Alec,” he said with a satisfied smirk. You gave him a reprimanding glare, but it was half-hearted. You didn’t actually feel sorry for the prick. “Sorry. Too soon?” 

“You know you can’t punch everyone that says anything bad about me, right?”

“Of course not. I’m perfectly capable of kicking them too.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Shut up and kiss me, Theo.” 

“Yes ma'am.” 

taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468

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[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Jealousy

Three times Jason gets jealous during dates and one time you do (Pre-established relationship) ~1.6k words

You're perfect. Funny. Smart. Gorgeous. Jason's life has never been better since he's asked you to be his partner. (Okay, hush, you asked him, but he was getting there, he swears, he had this twelve step plan and everything. Tim was going to jump off a ledge while throwing rose petals. Rose petals!)

He can't find a single problem with how your relationship is going. Well, expect, how everyone else seems to want your attention you too.

The little Café you wanted to try is nice, really. The guy behind the counter that's been staring at you since you both got here? Not so nice. It's annoying, how the guys gaze seems to linger on your legs, your smile, the way you brush your hair back. It's a struggle to focus on your words– but not a struggle to watch the way your lips move when you talk.

The worker takes a step out from behind the counter.

Oh hell no.

Jason's on his feet and pulling out the chair next to you in an instant, between one word your pretty voice is saying and the next, he's sitting by your side with an arm draped around your shoulder.

He loses his train of thought when you smile, pleased, and raise an eyebrow.

"What's this for, Jason?"

"Wanted to hear you better." He says, or he thinks he says that. He's too busy watching the creep slink back behind the counter, satisfaction growing in his chest.

You laugh. (He thinks angels might descend from the sky when you do.) And go back to telling your story. It's much easier to listen this time. That's what he tells himself, at least until your thigh presses against his.

Gotham Zoo is actually really nice for, you know, Gotham. Bruce poured money into it before, but ever since Damian found out about it, he's practically ensured the place will run ethically and comfortably for the next 100 years. Which Jason thought was cool, but it's even cooler that he gets to watch his partner coo over the new petting zoo.

"Aw, Jason, look at the lambs! They're so soft. I wanna take one home." You sound giddy, eyes bright and smile wide. He can't quite pull his focus away from you to see which creature you're referring to.

"They're pretty cute." He responds instead. Not cuter than you, though.

"Could you imagine one for the apartment? They'd sleep in bed with us. It would be like cuddling a cloud." You say idly, fingers stoking the top of the animals head.

That makes him pause. How'd he cuddle you if there's some barn animal in the middle of the bed? There's no way he could get close enough to you if some pet you found cute was cuddled between you. He clears his throat. "Well, ah, I don't know how the landlord feels about lambs but you can always cuddle me? I'm– I could be soft?" Wow, okay. Not what he wanted to say. He cringes a little.

But you stand up, smiling brighter and gaze focused on him. That settles the feeling in the pit of his stomach. You curl your fingers with his and take his hand, pulling it to your face to kiss his knuckles. "You're my favorite thing to cuddle, you know."

Oh. "Huh. I mean, good." He stumbles out. No, his ears are definitely not feeling warm. And no, his heart isn't beating faster as he follows you towards the next enclosure. "I could wear wool, though? If you wanted?"

That makes you laugh. Eyes trailing to him with such fondness he nearly sinks to his knees. Until he sees the playfulness etched in your face. "I saw you petting those rabbits early. I could wear bunny ears? If you wanted?"

He chokes on air. You might be trying to kill him. His whole face feels as heated as his ears. "Wow. I– if you wanted?"

You giggle, pulling away to observe the next lucky animal that you see.

"Hey. Wait–" He says your name, voice a little pitched. "Did you want–?" You only wink at him. That shuts him. And if he spends the rest of the date a little distracted, well, you seem proud that you managed to make him so flustered.

Your coworker has been talking to you for thirteen minutes and fourty-seven seconds. Jason knows this because he's been watching the clock since he got here. It happens more often than not, him walking you home from work. He shows up fifteen minutes early because he knows you'll slip out given the chance. Something about not taking up too much of his time. Don't you know you're the only one he wants to spend his time with?

Jason crosses his arms, eyes narrowing at your coworker. Three inches. That's the amount of space your coworker has moved closer to you since he's gotten here. Not respectable at all. Doesn't he know you're with Jason? Maybe he should have stopped into that jewelry store he was eyeing earlier. And called Tim to put in an order for rose petals.

Your coworker shifts another inch towards you. And that's it. Your shift has thirty-five seconds left and that's exactly the amount of time it takes for him to be by your side. His arm slips around your waist comfortably, like it belongs there, because it does. He kisses your cheek and lets his gaze settle on your coworker. And if his face is a little more threatening than usual, he definitely isn't trying to intimidate your coworker. (Yes, he is.)

"Ready to go home, sweetheart?" He drawls, body relaxed like he isn't torn between showing your coworker exactly who you're dating and pushing down the jumble of emotion in his throat. "I was thinking take out for dinner?"

You relax into his side. Oh. You relaxed into his side and you're smiling at him. It evens out the pounding in his heart he didn't even realize was happening. The tension threatening to take over his shoulders disappears like it never existed.

"Yeah, Jason, I'm ready. I missed you. Just let me clock out." You pull away– 'no' he starts to think– and then you take his hand, pulling him along with you.

"I missed you too." He answers, and you don't quite see the smug grin he sends over his shoulder to your coworker.

Jason's perfect. Funny. Smart. Gorgeous. Willing to try new things. A total package. That's something you know about your boyfriend. So when he agreed to go dancing with you at Gothams newest club, you were excited. A whole night spent enjoying time with your boyfriend. And you both get to dress up a little. You feel hot, and he definitely looks hot. You didn't think that'd be an issue. But, it is. Because you can see your boyfriend getting held up by two of the prettiest girls you've ever seen.

He's holding two drinks, one for himself and one he went to get for you. It soothes the tightness in your throat that he does not look thrilled to be talking to them. The softness he has when he's with you gone, replaced with poorly masked annoyance.

Any comfort you were feeling from the look on his face disappears when one of the girls puts her hand on his arm, giggling like he's said the funniest thing in the world. Absolutely not. You're walking over to them before Jason even has time to shrug her hand from his arm.

"Hey, honey." You say, voice sweet and sugary as you take one of the drinks from his hand, hooking your arm through his and tucking yourself against him. "Everything okay?"

It makes your heart flutter everytime, the way his entire face seems to change when he looks at you. "Hey, baby. Yeah. Everything's okay. Didn't mean to take so long. Were you worried?" He asks, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair.

The girls seem to deflate at how his complete attention is on you, how he instinctively shifts until you're pressed flushed against his side, two pieces of a whole. You have to force back the pride that threatens to glint in your eyes. "Not worried. I just was getting bored without you."

Neither of you really look over at the girls when they murmur something about catching up with their friends, but Jason manages a polite nod. Once they're gone, his grin widens, eyes teasing. "You were jealous. You called me honey."

You gasp in mock offense, yes, honey isn't the first term of endearment you jump to, but it's a perfectly valid word for him. "Jealous? Jealous that my tall, dark, sweet, and handsome boyfriend was getting hit on?"

He laughs, you think you might have swooned in a different time. "C'mon, pretty. Give me this. I saw you watching."

You can't help but smile at him and wonder, vaugley, if he knows you'd give him anything he asked of you. "Yeah, yeah. I was a little jealous. But, don't think I don't notice when you get jealous. Now, come dance with me. I like this song."

Now it's his turn to gasp, faux denial on his face. "I have never, not once in my life, been jealous."

You roll your eyes, playful and light as you pull him along to the dance floor. "Alright, lover boy. Because you're definitely not the reason my coworker wouldn't talk to me for a week."

He looks pleased at that. "He didn't?"

You raise yourself on your toes, kissing his cheek and leaving a smudge of lipstick. Neither of you move to wipe it off. "Mm. No. He didn't."

"Nice." He mumbles, unhooking your arms so he can hold your waist as you reach the dance floor. "I do get jealous too, though, sometimes."

Laughing, you find the beat of the music together and your world centers on him, just how his centers on you. "I know."

[girllblogging777]

𝑊𝐼𝐶𝐾𝐸𝐷𝐿𝑌 𝑌𝑂𝑈𝑅𝑆 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

↳ bf!mattheo riddle x fem!reader (halloween special !)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 : 1.2k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : no plot, just being the hottest couple at the party

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the slytherin common room was absolutely buzzing tonight. halloween decorations hung from every corner, enchanted green and silver banners weaving from the ceiling and an eerie mist hovered just above the floor. the party was already wild, drinks being passed around and music thumping so hard you could feel it in your chest, without even having stepped in yet.

you glanced over at mattheo, who was grinning at you like the troublemaker he was. he pulled you closer, one arm snaking possessively around your waist and you couldn’t help but laugh. he looked incredible tonight, wearing his costume and usual confidence as proudly as ever. you had convinced him to go all out for a couple’s costumes and after weeks of playful nagging, he finally gave in. now here you were, matching outfits and knowing full well the two of you you looked like absolute icons.

“i can’t believe i let you talk me into this” your boyfriend teased against your ear as you both stood at the entrance, scanning the room. you smirked back “come on, admit it. you love it.”

he didn’t deny it, his eyes flickering down to your own costume, taking in every detail. “alright fine, you look…. ridiculously good. almost too good, actually.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t suppress the he grin that was spreading across your face. the common room was already full of people and as soon as you stepped in, heads started turning. people couldn’t help but stare - some at mattheo, but a lot of them at you. you could feel their gazes on your tight costume, accompanied by your confident and angelic face.

mattheo, noticing the attention, squeezed your waist a little tighter. “let’s go make an entrance” he said with a mischievous grin.

the two of you moved through the crowd and it felt like every eye was on you. of course, your boyfriend thrived off of it but this time, so did you. his hand didn’t leave your body for a second, his touch grounding and reassuring, as if daring anyone to try and steal a moment with you.

the party was in full swing. your best friend theo had already downed who-knows-how-many drinks and was sloppily dancing on a table, a witch’s hat perched sideways on his head. you stifled a laugh when he spotted you and mattheo, eyes going wide like he was seeing the stars.

“oh merlin ! there they are !” theo yelled over the music, nearly tipping over his drink. “the hottest couple at hogwarts !” he jumped down from the table and stumbled towards you, throwing an arm around both of you. “look at you two, unreal. you’re killing me.”

mattheo chuckled, helping his mate steady himself “you’re drunk already.”

he shook his head dramatically in return “i’m not drunk…. i’m enchanted. you two are goals” theo whispered in your ear, loudly enough for half the room to hear.

you rolled your eyes and smiled “come on, nott. save the theatrics”

but obviously, he wasn’t done yet. “you guys better win best costume again this year or i’m burning the place down.”

“go enjoy your drink, theo.” your boyfriend laughed, practically shoving him back towards the table.

as soon as he was gone, mattheo turned to you, “we really are killing it tonight, love. goals, apparently.” he declared with a wide grin.

you raised an eyebrow teasingly. “are you finally admitting that the couple’s costume was a good idea ?”

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “i might have to agree… as long as you keep looking at me like that.”

you didn’t even have time to respond before you felt pansy, one of your closest friends, grab you hand and pull you toward the dance floor. “you two look amazing but it’s time to get out here !” she shouted over the music, her hips already swaying to the beat. she tossed a glance back at mattheo. “bring your man, he’s not getting out of dancing on halloween !”

mattheo groaned before sending you a wink, “go ahead. i’ll grab us some drinks and meet you in a minute”

you nodded and let pansy drag you into the middle of the room, surrounded by dozens of people dancing wildly and completely lost in the music. the energy was electric tonight and for the first time in a while, you felt totally free. you caught a few more lingering stares from other students and it only fed the buzzing energy in you. this was your night and with your boyfriend by your side, you were gonna have the best time ever.

a few minutes later, mattheo appeared with drinks in hand, sliding up next to you as if he belonged there. he handed you one and and grinned.

“you look like you’re having fun.”

“i am having fun,” you shot back, taking a sip. “and you’re going to dance with me.”

he pretended to groan, but there was no hesitation when he set his drink down and pulled you close, his hands settling on your hips. the music thumped around you, bodies swaying together, and the room seemed to fall away as you danced, matteo’s movements matching yours effortlessly. his eyes never left yours, a playful heated look in them that made your pulse race.

“you love this, don’t you?” you asked, leaning up to speak into his ear, your lips brushing the side of his face.

“what? you or the attention?” he smirked, knowing exactly how to push your buttons.

you playfully shoved his chest. “both.”

he laughed, the sound deep and warm, pulling you closer, his hands gripping your waist just a little tighter. “you’re right. i love all of it.”

the night went by, a long blur of dancing, laughter, and lots of drinks. at one point, theo tried to drag the entire room into some sort of a choreography—unsuccessfully, though that didn’t stop him from trying. pansy was somewhere near the bar, making outrageous bets with some hufflepuffs that had wandered in, and every time you caught a glimpse of her, she was in the middle of a new drink-fueled challenge.

you and mattheo didn’t leave each other’s side for the rest of the night. even as the party got crazier, you two remained locked into each other, moving in sync, laughing at the madness around you, kissing between songs like you couldn’t stand to be apart for even a second.

at one point, mattheo pulled you away from the dance floor, backing you up against a wall, his hands on either side of you, blocking out the noise of the party. “having fun?” he asked, that familiar, cocky grin back on his face.

your heart raced as you looked up at him, feeling the heat between you two. “you know i am.”

he leaned down, his lips brushing yours before he whispered, “good, because i’m not letting anyone else dance with you tonight.”

you laughed, tugging him closer by the front of his shirt. “like i’d want to.”

the rest of the night flew by in a haze of wild fun, your friends in various stages of drunken chaos, and the feeling of mattheo’s arms around you, reminding everyone that you were his and he was yours. wickedly yours.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @ilovematteoxx @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf

a/n : here’s a little something to begin halloweekend with, leave requests if you have any suggestions !!! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated too, love y’all <3

[justmywriting1313]

You're a blonde... (Simon x reader)

Simon was many things. He was the best recruit of his rookie year, having set the highest kill rate—a title he still holds. Not only was he a lieutenant, but he was also a lieutenant with the best training regime, and he was part of the strongest, most sought-after task force across the military world. But before all of that, he was a man. No matter how hard he tried to be a ghost, a man of few words, he was a boy lost and breathless when the woman he fell in love with sat across his lap, tipsy and giggly, counting his eyelashes.

Simon couldn't breathe…

Simon was many things. He was one of the best recruits during his initiation. He had the highest kill rate throughout the base, including among his own teammates. He was a lieutenant and a member of arguably the best task force. If nothing else, he was a mountain of a man who could snap arms like twigs.

And yet, he still couldn't breathe…

To be honest, it was unreasonable to expect him to breathe, especially not with your knees on either side of his hips and a big smile on your face as you traced the line work on his mask. He tried again to breathe through his nose and out through his mouth, certain that you were too tipsy to notice the heaving of his chest, but you noticed. One hand fell to rest at the centre of his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. Simon's hands flexed against the skin of your waist, the warmth of your skin making him heady and unable to think straight. Your oversized sweater had steadily fallen off your shoulder with your squirming, and the eventual skin-on-skin contact made it even harder for Simon to catch his breath. He returned his gaze to your face when he heard your little giggle, his own huff escaping as he watched you keep your eyes steadily fixed on where it rested. With as much confidence as he could muster, he asked,

"Whats so funny darlin'?"

You finally looked up and the beaming smile you give him completely disarms Simon all over again as you lean your face closer. Simon can see every detail of your face so clearly and he locks away the little things somewhere safe in his head. He can smell the sweet taste of flavoured liquor as you finally muttered,

"... Nothin'... its just you heart beat sped up"

Simon cleared his throat, voice gruff as he asked,

"and thats amusin' because..." "Because its just like mine when you look at me"

Simon's sure that the words escaped you with no intention to break him, and yet he nearly keened over. His hands squeezed your body before letting go, only to wrap themselves around your soft curves and heft you further onto his lap. The loud groan that left him sounded out into your neck as you tucked Simon's head under your chin. The surprised sounds that left at his strength you made something primal curl in his stomach at being so much larger than you. It's a feeling he has slowly become familiar with, never having given it much thought, especially on base where most individuals were hard, lean, and muscular until you stumbled into his office, soft fleshy curves dressed in oversized sweaters and leggings that he one day dreams of ripping off. However, the primal feeling is always accompanied by a rush of protectiveness which began the first time he saw the rookies surrounding you. Comfortable as they were with you as their registered psychologist, Simon was immediately in rage at their rough-housing, your small stature easily overwhelmed when one of the boys hefted you up and dropped you down. It made the large man intimately aware of just how impractical your tenderness was on a military base and the thought of you hurt making Ghost filter through the Simon.

The curling of your small fists in the material of his shirt pulls Simon back to his body as you slowly lean away, Simon letting you but only by a margin. You tilt your head down, your hair coming undone falling down one side of your face. You looked too much like an angel, and Simon could only swallow the three little words that were dancing on the tip of his tongue. One hand of yours was still fisted on his shoulder holding you up while the other came to ghost over his face. Simon closed his eyes, giving you the space to feather a touch over his eye lids only opening them when you exclaimed,

"Oh..." "Whats wrong?" "Nothings wrong Si... Its just... your eyelashes"

Simon's confusion must be visible through just his eyes with the way you chuckle but you soon clarify,

"I didn't realise you're a blonde... Always see you looking at me but I'm sorry I never realised... its pretty against the black Si, makes you seem like an angel"

Simon's breath catches in his throat as you continue to observe his masked face, as if you could spend forever looking at him, unaware of the state you have put him in.

Simon has come a long way to heal from the trauma of his childhood. To learn that it doesn't define him but is a small part in the larger story of his life. This healing doesn't mean he doesn't still consider himself a bad man because at the end of the day he kills without second thought and then saves the money he gets to do it. He bullies recruits to train harder, and he still snaps on bad days, no kindness in sight. He can be cruel and harsh and mean…

And still, all you have to do is smile his way, open your mouth, and say something like this, completely unraveling his sense of reality. Suddenly he isn't a broken husk of a human but a man who is trying and a man who wants so desperately to be worthy of the words that you throw his way. Kind words that mend so much of him even when he hasn't even had the courage to ask you out.

But sitting here in the rec-room, with your legs around his waist, Simon decides he can't really spend another night without the possibility of being something more with you. And so, with none of his usual hesitation, he brings one of his hands up to pull his mask up and over his head, and before you can really register the action, he has his lips pressed to yours, absorbing the sound of surprise that leaves you. He will sit you up in his lap tomorrow same as you are now and let you observe his face till your heart's content, but for now, he would be damned if he was letting you leave without tasting you and perhaps leaving a mark or two.

The kiss started off strong, a harsh press of his lips against your much softer ones before the both of you eased into it. One of simon's hands coming up to cup your face and keep your hair back while both of yours cupped his jaw. As much as Simon wanted to start slow the cute nip that you gave him along wit the feel of your smile had Simon growling as he pushed up further into you pushing his tongue past your lips quickly taking control of the kiss. Slowly and reluctantly you pulled away, giggling at the way Simon followed your lips – the kiss ending much too soon for his liking. Your eyes were hazy with lust and lips were red and Simon counted to ten in his head trying to dispell the need to kiss you again. He can let you get some of the jibber jabber out of your head before he was kissing you again.

"Simon... thats your face"

Simon laughed, a deep sound that shook his whole body and made you feel warm,

"Yes my love... I'm aware" "Are you sure about this..." "Well its too late now isn't it?" "I know but still... I dont want you to feel pressured or you know feel like you have to just because–"

Your sentence cut off by Simon who was once again pressing his lips to your by pulling you down to him stopping whatever trail of thoughts your silly overthinking brain was sending your way. He only pulled away long enough to say,

"Lovie I'm not goin' to repeat myself yeah? I'm not pressured! I didn't feel like I have to and if you'll allow it I would like to take you out to dinner sometime soon so that I can officially say I'm datin' you and so I kiss you again and again for a very long time to come... yes?"

It took you a minute to process his words but when you did you were quick to nod though that was not enough,

"Words lovie words..." "Yes Simon I'd love for you to take me out to dinner"

Simon was already leaning in to kiss you again but you leaned back one last time eyes sparkling with mischief as you said,

"You're a blonde Simon but didn't peg you for the dirty blonde type bet you get it touched up right?"

"Oh that's it come here you

Simon growled before he was hefting you up into his arms, forcing your legs to wrap around his legs before making his way to his room, lips attaching themselves onto any amount of skin he could find. He knows tomorrow will come and he will sit and be the object of your fascination for a while, and he will have to answer a million questions from Soap who had quietly slipped away when you had entered the room and so many more things but for now Simon was happy carrying the love of his life back to his dorm with your hands tugging on his dirty blonde hair...

Okay so the idea of a reader who noticed Simon was a blonde because of his eyelashes has been killing me so here enjoy....

As always please like and reblog yes? yes and give some COD requests cause clearly the well of inspiration is flourishing tho I do hope there is more reception on the Price fic cause me kinda inlove with the man

[surielstea]

Giver and Receiver

Kinktober day 3: Worship + Thigh Riding

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Courtesan!Reader

Summary: Eris teaches Reader what it’s like to be on the receiving end of pleasure.

Warnings: Minors dni | 18+ only | overstimulation | praise kink | name calling (whore, angel, darling) | thigh riding | heavy worship | dom/sub dynamics | slight angst (HEA) | fingering | p in v

A. Note: I cooked with this one I fear, mostly smut but when there IS plot you better believe it’s good.

7.2k words.

I walked into the throne room behind my Madame, a forced sultry smile on my red-painted lips, my hands clasped tightly behind my back, my posture straight as I peered up at the High Lord of Autumn through my lashes.

I was positioned in a line of seven other girls, all from the same business as me.

"Lord Beron," My Madame purrs, bowing at the waist, her short greying hair flowing with her as she dipped her head. We all followed suit, as instructed.

"Rise." He commanded and we obeyed, standing tall under his scrutinizing gaze. His eyes roamed over us for what felt like an eternity. Cold, analytical.

"Vedika is our most valued, and expensive girl," My Madame says after a moment of thick silence, placing her hands on the girl next to me. I swallowed thickly, steeling my features the way Vedika did. She was such a natural when it came to stuff like this, I envied her for it more than I envied her beauty.

I always struggled during The Choosing, especially by royals. They were so entitled, thought it was in their right to treat us more like objects than human beings, and perhaps it was, because we were harlots, the lowest class in a High Lord's eyes, despite my Madame's organization being the most prestigious of all courtesan companies.

"Who's your youngest?" Lord Beron asked with an arched brow and my stomach knotted. Oh gods, he was the worst kind of male, wasn't he?

My Madame didn't miss a beat as her hands moved to Clarissa's shoulders, we truly were just money bags to her. "That would be my dear Clarissa, turned forty only a week ago." She said, her voice like silk, smooth and fluid.

"I'll take her," The High Lord said, waving his hand and beckoning the young girl over. My Madame went with her, outstretching her hand as one of the courtiers placed a small coffer of gold into her hands. My madame's eyes nearly popped from her skull.

"My lord, this is far too much for one girl's service," she crooned, her tone sugary, no doubt hoping for future business.

I released a quiet, shaky breath, allowing myself to relax as my nerves ebb. He didn't pick me, thank the gods he didn't pick me.

The high lord didn't even cast her a glance, too focused on the girl he plucked from us as he said, "Give the others to my sons," He waved us off with a dismissive hand and my stomach lurched. "But be discreet, my wife needn't know I have whores roaming the manor," Beron ordered, and again, my Madame bowed, the rest of us following suit, as always.

My hands slightly shook, but I clasped them together behind my back and steeled my expression. Being chosen by a High Lord was one thing— at least he had some sort of leash, the crown bound him to some extent. But his sons? The ones who most likely had no chance of being heir anyway? They had nothing to lose. They could kill me and no one would bat an eye, one whores life for a royals entertainment. It happened more often than one might think.

I stifled my shallow breaths as we left the room, my Madame giving each of us directions to a Vanserra's room. Vedika glanced over at me, her warm brown eyes soft, and comforting.

Vedika taught me everything I knew, everything. She often stuck her neck out for me, in my first years as a mere seventeen-year-old I had told her I was terrified of the male I was assigned— so she offered her services for half the price to the male, and he was quick to ditch me for her. She returned later that night littered with bruises and marks, to this day I still don't think I could ever repay her.

"Vedika, you can go to the youngest of the brothers, he's the first door on your left, a real charmer apparently," My Madame hums. "A reward, for all the money you bring me," She purrs.

Vedika bows low, proper. "Thank you, mistress," She said, her voice soft and as lovely as a summer's night. She stood upright and gave me one last lingering look before disappearing down the hall.

"And you," My Madame sighs, looking me over. "The oldest will do for you," She clicks her tongue, hands coming to my shoulders, fixing my posture.

I bit down on my lip to stop it from trembling. The eldest Vanserra was known for his cruelty, renowned for the way he had treated The Morrigan, his former fiancée.

"Perhaps he'll beat some sense into you," Madame mused, clicking her tongue as she adjusted the sheer fabric of my gown. Her words hung in the air, and I wasn't sure if she meant them literally or figuratively. "Now, what do you say?"

I bow low, lower than Vedika had. "Thank you, mistress," I utter, willing my voice not to wobble.

"Go on then, last door down," She shoos. I rise from my bend and don't say another word as I stride down the hall, faux confidence in my movements as I pass every door, the sounds of moaning and grunting already being able to be heard from the adjacent rooms. My steps became more and more hesitant the closer I got to that last door, hands trembling as I came to a stop in front of it and raised my hand to knock.

I blinked away my fear and knocked twice, loud enough for him to hear without question, but still, delicate, to show that I was nowhere near a threat.

I rocked back on my heels anxiously, my stomach knotting itself into a tangled mess. The door swung open. I looked up, and up, and up. Meeting eyes of gold and amber and saffron.

I've heard talk of Eris Vanserra, but nowhere in his reputation did anyone mention how unfairly beautiful he was. His tousled auburn hair, brushed back like he'd run his fingers through it countless times, framed a face too sharp and striking to be kind. His skin, smooth and sun-kissed, was dusted with freckles over the bridge of his nose. His full lips parted, and I realized far too late that he was speaking to me.

"My, my," He smirked. "I'd say the gods have gifted me an angel if I didn't know any better." He crosses his muscular arms over his carved chest, leaning against the doorway and peering down at me. "What brings you to my chambers?"

"Your father..." I say, then wince. It'd most likely be best if I didn't mention his cheating, bastard of a father if my goal was to sleep with him. "I work for Madame Kamira's house," I explain, attempting my most sultry of voices. "We were called upon to service the Vanserra family, one for each son," I sum briefly, clenching my hands into fists behind my back, my manicured nails digging into my palms.

His eyes darkened with amusement as I clenched my hands into fists behind my back, nails digging into my palms. This was a game, and I was already losing.

Eris tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking over me like I was something to be savored slowly, methodically. I fought to keep my breath steady, to maintain the façade of composure. My role here was clear: I was a courtesan, meant to please him, nothing more. The idea of taking anything for myself had never even crossed my mind. It wasn't allowed.

He pushed off the doorframe and stepped aside, motioning for me to enter. "Well then, let's see what all the fuss is about," he said smoothly, his voice a purr.

I hesitated for only a fraction of a second before crossing the threshold. His chambers were vast, dimly lit by the flickering glow of a hearth. The air smelled of smoke, cedar, and something faintly sweet, almost like cinnamon. Rich tapestries lined the walls, and a large bed dominated the room, draped in crimson and gold.

The door closed behind me with a soft click, the sound almost ominous in the silence. I could feel him watching me, and the weight of his gaze settled over my skin like a heavy, heated blanket. I prepared myself to do what I always did—to serve, to please. This was nothing new.

"Relax," Eris said, amusement dancing in his tone as he crossed the room, each step deliberate and predatory. "I don't bite. Not unless you ask me to."

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening despite my best efforts. My hands still trembled slightly, but I clasped them in front of me, hoping to hide them. I'd been in situations like this before, but something about him—about Eris—was different. Dangerous.

"You seem nervous," he commented, his voice now closer than I expected. I turned slightly, only to find him mere inches away, towering over me with that same smug smirk on his lips.

"I'm not," I lied, though my voice wavered ever so slightly. I didn't understand why I felt so on edge. He was like every other male who'd paid for my company—so why was this different?

His amber eyes glinted with amusement as he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was gentle, too gentle for someone with his reputation.

"Liar," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

My throat tightened, and I resisted the urge to shrink away. Instead, I tilted my chin up, meeting his gaze directly. Fine, I'd play this game.

"I'm here to serve you, my lord," I said, injecting as much confidence into my voice as I could muster. "How would you like me to begin?"

Eris chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down my spine. "Bold," he mused, his hand trailing down my neck before dropping to his side. "But unnecessary. I have something else in mind."

Before I could ask what, he moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning back slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. He patted his thigh once, a clear invitation.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I moved without hesitation, crossing the room to stand before him. His eyes darkened, the playful glint from earlier replaced by something deeper, more intense.

"On my thigh," he instructed, his voice soft but commanding. "Take your pleasure."

I froze. I couldn't have heard him right. Take my pleasure? No one had ever asked me to do that. I wasn't paid to find my own pleasure—I was paid to give it. I must've misunderstood. My body tensed, and confusion flickered across my face, though I tried to hide it. Surely he didn't mean—

"Go on," Eris coaxed, his amber eyes softening as he watched me hesitate. "Don't be afraid."

My breath caught. He wasn't telling me to focus on him—he wanted me to take control, to feel something for myself. The very idea felt foreign, like stepping into uncharted territory. But I couldn't let my confusion show. Not when he was watching me so intently.

With measured movements, I straddled his thigh, the smooth fabric of my gown brushing against his legs. His hands came to rest on my hips, holding me steady but not guiding me—he wanted to watch me, to see me take what I was never allowed to have.

"There's a good girl," he murmured, his fingers digging in ever so slightly, his approval radiating through his touch. "Now, get yourself off."

I bit down on my lip, my hands resting on his broad shoulders as I began to move. Slowly at first, testing, the friction of my core against his thigh sending jolts of heat through me. I wasn't used to this. It felt wrong, almost selfish. But his hands, his eyes—they were encouraging me to go on.

"Faster," he urged his voice a low rumble that sent another wave of heat pooling in my belly. "Don't hold back. I want to see how badly you need this." His words sent a shock through me, but I still didn't understand. I was supposed to make him feel good, wasn't I? Not myself. This was for his enjoyment, not mine. And yet, the way his hands gripped my hips, the way his eyes never left mine—he seemed more focused on me, on my pleasure, than anything else.

Eris's smirk faded slightly, replaced by something warmer, more patient. His hands guided me, helping me move against him, the friction intensifying with every roll of my hips. "Let go," he whispered, his voice full of command but laced with something softer. "This is for you. No one else."

I gasped, my grip tightening on his shoulders as the pleasure built inside me, coiling tighter and tighter. His praise, the way he was watching me so closely—it was almost too much. Every time his thigh flexed beneath me, it sent another wave of rapture through my body, until I was trembling with need. But I didn't know how to give in.

"You're beautiful like this," Eris whispered, his lips dangerously close to my ear. "Absolutely stunning."

His words were the final push I needed, and with one more roll of my hips, I shattered. A soft cry escaped my lips as pleasure tore through me, my body convulsing against his thigh. His hands held me steady, keeping me from collapsing as I rode out the wave of ecstasy.

For a long moment, I couldn't move, couldn't think. The only sound in the room was my ragged breathing, the world narrowing down to the heat of Eris's body beneath mine and the smug satisfaction radiating from him.

When I finally looked up, his smirk had softened into something almost, tender. He raised a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin.

"There you go," he murmured, his voice full of approval. "You did well, angel."

His praise sent a lingering warmth through me, and despite everything, I found myself leaning into his touch. For a moment, just a moment, it felt like more than just a transaction. But I knew better than to let myself believe it.

Eris pulled back, the heat in his eyes still simmering beneath the surface. "You're not done yet," he said, his voice a low growl that made my pulse quicken once more. "Nowhere near it, baby." Eris's grip tightened on my hips, pulling me more securely onto his lap. The warmth of his body seeped through me, and I fought to steady my breathing as the remnants of pleasure still pulsed through my veins. His hands, large and sure, never left me—there was no hurry in his movements, no sense of urgency. Only calm control, as if he had all the time in the world to coax another reaction out of me.

I was still reeling from what had just happened, struggling to comprehend it. To understand how someone like him, someone with such power, and such a cruel reputation, could be so patient. Could focus on me like this.

"Look at you," he whispered, his hands sliding from my hips to my waist, then upward, tracing the curves of my body with deliberate care. "You've never been worshiped, have you?" The words sent a shiver through me, a reminder of how foreign all of this felt. I should have felt more in control, and more confident, but instead, I felt, vulnerable. Exposed in a way I hadn't ever been before.

"I don't—" I started to say, unsure of how to finish. I didn't understand how this was supposed to work. I didn't know what he wanted from me. "How can I service you, My Lord?" I manage to say, despite my orgasm still consuming me down to my very bones.

Eris leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against the curve of my jaw, just beneath my ear. His breath was warm against my skin, sending a ripple of heat down my spine. "It's simple," he murmured. "You find release, and I find mine from watching you unravel."

Before I could respond, his hands began to move again, gliding down my sides with an almost reverent touch. Every caress was measured, and controlled, as though he was savoring every second, every inch of my skin. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

"Don't think," he said softly, his voice barely more than a breath against my neck. "Just feel." He cooed and my brain faltered when I tried wrapping my head around it. This was work, my job, I was being paid for this, this... idolatry.

"Good girl," he whispered, the praise low and warm. His hands continued their slow exploration, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, making me shiver. "I want you to get used to this."

I tensed, biting down on my lip to stifle the soft whimper that threatened to escape. Get used to what? This attention? This feeling? The thought of him focusing on me, of being the one receiving pleasure, still felt strange. But the way his hands moved, the way he murmured soft words of encouragement—it made something inside me melt.

"Eris, I don't... I'm not used to—" I started to say, but it was too much to even voice, to express.

"I know," he said, his voice soothing. "But you're going to learn because I'm going to teach you." He said against my throat, my heart raced, and for the first time, I allowed myself to believe him. To believe that maybe—just maybe—this wasn't about control or power or payment. Maybe he truly did want to give me something in return. Something that had never been offered to me before.

"Relax," Eris repeated, his fingers grazing the tops of my thighs, sending sparks of heat through my body. "Let me worship you."

Worship.

The word sent a tremor through me, and I couldn't stop the soft exhale that escaped my lips. Worship. I had spent years learning how to worship others, and how to make them feel like gods beneath my touch. But this, this was different. This was Eris Vanserra, a male of unimaginable power, offering to gods damned to worship me.

His hands continued their slow, deliberate path, moving higher, his fingers dancing over my skin with reverence. Every touch sent a new wave of heat coursing through me, and I felt my control slipping away, unraveling beneath his ministrations.

"You're tense," he said quietly, his voice full of understanding. "You don't have to be. Not here. Not with me."

My breath hitched as his hands moved back to my waist, pulling me closer to him. The warmth of his body pressed against mine, solid and grounding. I felt his lips brush against the shell of my ear, the sensation so delicate it sent a shiver through me.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear in a ghost of a kiss. "Let me teach you what it's like to be praised."

My chest tightened the vulnerability of his words settling deep inside me. I didn't know how to let go. I didn't know how to take what he was offering. But I wanted to. Oh, gods, I wanted to.

Before I could overthink it, I nodded, the motion small, almost imperceptible. But it was enough.

Eris's smirk softened into something more tender, and he pressed his lips fully to mine, the kiss slow and deliberate. His hands roamed my body with respectful intent, each touch drawing more pleasure, more heat from me than I thought possible.

And for the first time, I allowed myself to revel in it.

His hands were everywhere. Not in a rush, but in a way that felt like he was memorizing every inch of me. His palms skimmed my sides, the curve of my waist, the softness of my thighs. He explored me like I was something precious, a treasure to be savored rather than a tool for pleasure. I'd never felt anything like it.

My mind struggled to catch up. This wasn't supposed to be how it went. I was meant to please him, to give. And yet here he was, still, making me feel like I was the center of the universe. Like he was here for me, and not the other way around.

His lips moved from my mouth, trailing down the side of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. A soft moan escaped me as his tongue flicked against the hollow of my throat, and I felt him smile against my skin.

His hands gripped the hem of my gown and slowly began to lift it. I inhaled sharply, my nerves flaring, but his movements were steady and patient. He paused, giving me the chance to stop him, but I didn't. I couldn't. My body, and my mind—they both craved more.

The gown slid over my hips, the cool air of the room hitting my heated skin as the fabric pooled around my waist. I could feel my pulse racing, could hear the soft rustle of the fabric, but all I could focus on was him—Eris. His hands were on me, his gaze drinking me in as though he had never seen anything more captivating.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. His hands rested on my thighs now, thumbs drawing soft circles over my skin, warming me with every touch. "Let me see all of you."

I hesitated, but there was no judgment in his eyes, only a desire that burned brighter than any fire in the Autumn Court. Slowly, I shifted, letting him lift my gown fully off of me, leaving me bare before him.

Eris's gaze raked over my exposed body, his pupils dilating as he took me in. But instead of feeling vulnerable or objectified like I had countless times before, I felt powerful. Wanted. Craved.

His hands slid back up my thighs, slow and reverent, until he reached the apex of my legs. My breath hitched, and I clenched my thighs together instinctively, but Eris's touch remained gentle, coaxing.

"Relax," he murmured, brushing his lips against my collarbone. "This is for you."

I exhaled shakily, the unfamiliar words settling deep inside me. He wasn't taking; he was giving. It was a concept I struggled to grasp—how could someone like him, a Vanserra, want me to take what I wanted?

His fingers grazed higher, parting my legs gently, giving me space to breathe as he settled between them. I bit my lip, the anticipation building with every second, with every brush of his hands on my skin. His gaze flicked up to mine, and the molten gold in his eyes was enough to make my breath catch.

"Be good for me, yeah?" he said again, his voice like a warm caress. His fingers moved between my legs, slow and teasing, brushing against my most sensitive spot.

The touch sent a shockwave through me, and I gasped, my hands clutching his shoulders for stability. His thumb circled my clit, gentle but firm, applying just the right amount of pressure. I could feel the tension building inside me, winding tighter and tighter with every stroke.

"Take what you need," he whispered, his lips ghosting over my jaw, my neck. "This is yours. I'm yours tonight."

I whimpered, my head falling back as the pleasure began to mount. His fingers worked me expertly, drawing out sounds I hadn't known I was capable of making. Every caress, every touch, was designed to make me come undone.

But as the heat built, I couldn't shake the disbelief. This was meant to be for him, wasn't it? I was supposed to serve. Yet here I was, trembling and teetering on the edge of something I'd never felt before, something overwhelming and wonderful.

Eris seemed to sense my hesitation because his hand slowed, his fingers teasing rather than giving, prolonging the agony. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. "You deserve to feel this," he whispered, his voice deep and rough with desire. "I want to hear you say it."

I could barely form words, could barely think past the haze of pleasure clouding my mind, but his command pulled something raw from me. "I— I deserve this," I whispered, the words trembling on my lips.

His smile against my skin was wicked, triumphant. "Attagirl."

And then, before I could fully process it, he slid two fingers inside me, slow and deliberate, filling me in a way that made my back arch off the bed. I gasped, my body instinctively pressing against his hand, craving more of that delicious friction.

"You feel so perfect," he breathed, his lips pressing hot kisses to my neck as his fingers moved in and out, setting a slow but torturous rhythm. "So tight."

I moaned, my hands fisting in the sheets as I rocked against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was so expertly giving me. His thumb returned to that sensitive spot, circling, teasing, driving me higher and higher.

I was on the edge, teetering between control and chaos, the tension building to a crescendo. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, and the coil inside me snapped, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.

I cried out, my body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through me, leaving me trembling in its wake. Eris didn't stop, didn't relent—his fingers continued their delicious torment, drawing every last bit of pleasure from me until I was spent, gasping for air.

When I finally came down from the high, Eris withdrew his hand slowly, and gently, and I collapsed against him, my body trembling, my mind spinning.

"You're perfect," he whispered, his voice soft and full of reverence. "And I'm not done with you yet."

Before I could protest, he shifted, pulling me beneath him and laying me down on his enormous mattress, his body hot and solid against mine. I could feel his hardness pressing against my thigh, and I swallowed hard, my body still humming from the aftershocks of pleasure.

Eris leaned down, capturing my lips in a searing kiss, and I felt his hand slide between us, positioning himself at my entrance. He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes molten with desire.

"You alright? Think you're ready for me?"

I nodded, breathless, my heart pounding in my chest and with a slow, deliberate thrust, Eris entered me, filling me completely.

I gasped, my elastic walls stretching around him, adjusting to the sensation of him deep inside me. The weight of his body, the way he fit perfectly between my thighs—it was overwhelming, like he was made for this, made to take me to places I'd never allowed myself to go.

He paused, letting me adjust, his gaze fixed on mine. There was something in the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered, like he could read every flicker of hesitation, every burst of pleasure crossing my face.

"Breathe," he murmured, his voice soft and coaxing. He brushed his lips against my jaw, the warmth of his breath grounding me. "You're doing so well, sweet girl."

I let out a shaky breath, nodding as I tried to relax into the sensation. His praise made something warm bloom inside me, something unfamiliar but not unwelcome. The tension that had coiled around me since I stepped into his chambers began to unravel, slowly giving way to something softer, more intoxicating.

He shifted his hips, moving within me, at a slow, languid pace that sent heat spiraling through my veins. Each thrust was controlled, and measured, like he was savoring every second, every sound that escaped me.

"I want to hear you," he whispered against my ear. "Every moan, every gasp. Don't hold back."

I bit my lip, stifling the sounds that threatened to spill over, but his next thrust, deeper and more purposeful, tore a moan from my throat. My body arched beneath him, seeking more of that delicious friction, more of the pleasure that was building between us like a fire.

Eris groaned softly, his breath ragged as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the curve of my shoulder. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me to meet his slow rhythm, each movement a reminder of just how much control he had—control he was choosing to give me.

"You feel so perfect," he breathed, his voice raw. "Like you were made for me."

The heat in his words, the way they wrapped around me like silk, made me clench around him. His pace quickened slightly, his control slipping just enough for me to feel the urgency building beneath the surface.

I let out a soft whimper, my hands grasping at his shoulders as I pulled him closer, needing more of him, needing to drown in the way he made me feel. It was too much and not enough all at once—every thrust bringing me closer to that edge, to the place where my body and mind could no longer resist.

Eris seemed to sense my rising need, his hips snapping forward with a little more force, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. His lips found mine again, devouring me in a kiss that was hungry, desperate. He swallowed my moans, his body grinding against mine in a way that made me lose all sense of the world outside of this moment.

"You're close, aren't you?" he rasped, his forehead pressed against mine. His hand slid between our bodies, his thumb finding that sensitive bundle of nerves between my legs, circling it with just the right amount of pressure. "I want to feel you come around me."

The way he touched me, the way his words wrapped around me like a command and a plea, it sent me hurtling toward the edge. I couldn't hold on any longer, couldn't resist the pull of the pleasure that built inside me.

I cried out, my body trembling beneath him as the orgasm ripped through me, stronger than anything I had ever felt before. My muscles clenched around him, dragging him deeper, and I could feel him groan, feel his body tense as he chased his own release.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Taking me so well." His pace quickened, his thrusts more erratic now as he sought his own pleasure, the fire in his eyes burning brighter as he watched me fall apart beneath him. I was barely coherent, my mind lost to the pleasure, but I could feel him—every inch of him, every sound, every touch, searing into my skin.

With a final, deep thrust, he groaned low and guttural, his body shuddering as he found his release inside me. The warmth of him, the way he collapsed against me, breathless and spent, sent aftershocks rippling through my body.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, the only sound in the room the soft, ragged breaths we shared. Eris's weight was comforting, and grounding, and I found myself clinging to him, my hands still tangled in his hair, my body still trembling from the intensity of what had just passed between us.

He shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to my temple, his hand brushing soothingly over my side. "You did so well," he whispered, his voice full of admiration. "So perfect."

I didn't know what to say, how to process the fact that someone had just taken the time to worship me, to make me feel something I had never been allowed to feel. But as I lay there, wrapped in his warmth, I couldn't help but feel... cherished. For the first time, I wasn't just a courtesan. I wasn't just here to serve.

He pulled back slightly, his fingers trailing over my flushed skin, his eyes soft as they met mine. "Are you alright?" he asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

I nodded, unable to form words yet, still coming down from the high he had pulled me into. He smiled at that, a small, satisfied smirk that made my heart skip a beat.

After it was over, we lay tangled together, our bodies slick with sweat, my chest still heaving from the intensity of it all. Eris's breath was warm against my skin, his hands trailing over my back in slow, soothing circles. The quiet intimacy that followed the storm of passion was disarming, and unfamiliar. I was used to being dismissed, sent away with a few gold coins and a soul a little dimmer than when I had arrived.

But Eris, asked me to stay. So I did. He held me close, his touch reverent, as if I was something precious, something to be cherished, not discarded.

"You're trembling," he whispered against my temple, his lips brushing the area. "Are you cold?"

I wasn't, but I nodded anyway, unsure how to explain that the tremors were more from the emotional upheaval than any physical discomfort. Without a word, Eris shifted, reaching for the blankets and pulling them over both of us, wrapping me in warmth. His arm remained around me, pulling me back against his chest, his fingers stroking my arm gently. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt safe.

"Rest," he murmured, his voice soft and comforting. "You've earned it." It was an order I found myself willing to obey. My body, exhausted from the overwhelming pleasure, began to give way to the heavy pull of sleep. I hadn't realized how much I craved this—this gentleness, this quiet comfort. The idea that I could just be held, without expectation, without obligation.

Before long, the steady rise and fall of Eris's breathing lulled me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I woke, the room was bathed in the dim light of early morning. Eris was still beside me, his arm draped lazily over my waist, his face softened in sleep. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and... and something else. Something I wasn't ready to name.

What had happened last night—what he had done to me—had altered something deep inside me. Eris hadn't just touched my body, he had touched a part of me I hadn't known existed. He had made me feel like more than just a tool for someone else's desires. At that moment, I hadn't been just a courtesan. I had been a woman, his woman, worthy of pleasure and tenderness.

But as the warmth of that realization settled over me, so did the cold truth. He was the son of a High Lord. I was nothing more than a whore.

The thought hit me like a weight in my chest, making it hard to breathe. This couldn't be real. Whatever had passed between us last night couldn't mean anything. It couldn't. And yet, the way he had touched me, the way he had looked at me—like I was something more—had shaken everything I thought I knew about my place in this world.

How could I ever go back to who I was before? How could I move on from this, from him, when he had shown me a version of myself I had never seen?

I turned my head slightly, studying the sharp lines on his face, and the soft fall of his red hair across the pillow. He was beautiful, yes, but more than that, he was dangerous—dangerous in the way he made me hope. Hope for something I had no right to even dream of.

But what other choice did I have?

I closed my eyes, swallowing against the lump in my throat. I had to be realistic. This was one night. One perfect, beautiful night, but it couldn't be anything more. He would go back to his life, to his duties as a lord's son, and I would return to Madame Kamira's house, to my place among the other courtesans.

Still, as I lay there in his arms, the warmth of his body pressed against mine, I couldn't stop the yearning that twisted deep in my chest. I wanted more. I wanted to know what other nights with him might be like, what it would feel like to be worshipped by him again, to be held like I was something precious. But even as the thought bloomed in my mind, I felt the sting of reality pulling me back.

Eris stirred beside me, his golden eyes fluttering open. He blinked a few times, focusing on me, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, I saw something soft in his gaze. Something that made my chest tighten with a dangerous mix of longing and fear.

"Good morning," he said, his voice warm and inviting. "I was afraid I'd dreamt you." His voice was still affected by sleep, deep and groggy.

"Oh? Did I leave that much of an impression?" I replied, a smile already tugging at my lips before I could stop it. "I'm very real."

"Thank the gods for that," he mused, propping his head up on his elbow and reaching over with his free hand, brushing my most likely messy hair from my face. The action was so simple, yet intimate. "And how do you feel? Last night was quite eventful."

"Eventful," I echoed softly, a slight laugh escaping my lips. "That's one way to put it."

Eris chuckled, the sound rich and deep, and it made my heart skip again. "I could come up with other words but I think you'd turn red if I did." He hummed, leaning closer, his nose brushing against mine.

"You might be right," I murmured, growing shy with our proximity— despite the fact that he had me grinding on him just last night. I glance away and to my relief, he rears back. "I have to admit, you surprised me," I confess.

He dips down, his lips brushing against my neck. "Yeah? How so angel?" He asked while pressing a soft kiss to one of the marks he left mere hours ago.

"You made me feel things I thought weren't capable," I utter, peering down at him.

His lips paused on my neck, his gaze flicking up, staring at me through his brows, studying me. "And what is it you felt?"

"Adoration," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Like I was more than just, a service." I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat.

A slow smile spread across his lips, and he moved back up, his breath brushing against my cheek. "Angel, you’re not a service." His voice dropped to a teasing whisper. "You could've asked for anything last night, and I would've given it to you."

"Oh? Anything?" I teased back, arching a brow.

"Anything," he confirmed, his voice deepening as his fingers trailed softly down my arm. "You deserve to be adored. In fact, I rather enjoyed worshipping you."

I rolled my eyes, though my pulse was racing. "You have such a way with words, don't you?"

He smirked, not missing a beat. "You're just realizing this now?" He asked, running a hand up my shoulder, past my jaw to cup my cheek.

"Maybe," I shot back with a smirk of my own. "I was a bit, distracted last night." His thumb grazed my bottom lip as I spoke, his gaze never leaving mine.

"You weren't the only one." For a moment, the playful tone between us softened. My heart thudded against my chest as I realized how much I wanted to stay here, basking in his attention. His gaze flicked down to my lips and I quickly reminded myself of the reality we lived in—the boundaries we couldn't ignore.

"I should go," I said suddenly, my voice shaky as I slipped from his arms, pulling the sheets around me like a protective barrier. "I have other clients to tend to." The weight of my words settled heavily in the air, and I saw the flicker of disappointment cross his face, quickly masked by resolve.

"I'll see you again, won't I?" His tone was earnest as I slipped from the bed, pulling on my discarded gown and trying to ignore the way his eyes never left my figure once.

"Depends, will you call for me?" I tilt my head with a teasing smile, he looks up at me, tucking a muscular arm behind his head— it was an effort not to slip back into bed next to the heir.

"Every night, if I have to," He grinned like a cat.

"Careful, you'll run out of money before you know it," I taunt, reaching down and brushing a tuft of red hair from his forehead, I hadn’t meant to— but my body wasn’t my own when I was around him.

"You seem to underestimate how deep my pockets go, sweetheart," He purred, I ran my fingertips down the side of his face in a caress as gentle as a lovers.

"Do I?" I ask playfully, and he catches my wrist before I can brush my thumb over his slightly swollen lips. His hold was soft, yet as immovable as iron, a warning.

"I might just buy you all for myself if you keep teasing me," He suggests and my breath hitched at the idea. He arches a brow.

"You like that idea?" It was his turn to smirk. "Leaving your Madames house and becoming my personal whore," His hand slipped into mine, bringing my palm to his lips and kissing it gently. "Lover behind closed doors?" He suggests and I swallow thickly, not allowing myself to even imagine the fantasy— nor think about how desperately I wished for that.

"And when you grow bored of me?" I ask. "Will you cast me to the streets?"

He looked as if he might have scoffed at the idea if it weren't for the glimmer of hope he caught in my eyes. "Bored of you? My angel, I've only laid with you for a night. It'll be lifetimes before I'm done with the list of things I wish to do to you." He purred and my heart fluttered, gut twisting at the promise of pleasure. "Are you sure that's what you want?" He added and I doubt I had ever nodded in agreement to something faster in my life.

"Yes— please," I blurt and he chuckled, kissing my palm again.

"Then come back to bed, and when your Madame comes to riot for your return I'll give her triple what she thinks you're worth," He declared and I blushed, unsure what to say to convey how eternally grateful I was. He tugged on my hand and all I could do was get back into bed beside him.

"My angel," He whispered softly, and his next words seemed to leave a mark on me more permanent than any of the ones he had given to me last night. "You deserve every dream you've dared to wish for, let me give them to you.”

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[reverseexorcist]

★ 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝 ★

"If it's alright could I request Carmilla Carmine x a fem reader who's a fallen angel? Like maybe they met during extermination and got their wings ripped off for not wanting to kill Carmilla's kids or they were already in hell with Carmilla for some time before the extermination? If you don't want to do this that's totally fine, and sorry if this isn't how to request stuff :)."

Honestly, with how this ended, I'm really tempted to write a much fluffier part 2 to this

Part 2 ↫ Right here

➲ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Carmine + !Fallen Angel!Reader

➲ Romantic ☐, Platonic ☒

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 3,462 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Female reader, descriptions of gore/blood, canonical Lute slander (sorry Lute), romantic or platonic wasn't requested so I went with platonic to fit the story more (if the requester wants romantic just feel free to ask me), mother mode Carmilla (she might be a bit ooc because of this),

Oh wow.

Oh wow were you shaking.

You couldn't tell if it was from the excitement or the nerves - Probably both if you were being honest with yourself, but you couldn't shake off the vibrating feeling tingling beneath your skin that made you want to fly laps around heaven. Your stomach was doing flips, but you led mask only reflected your nearly psychopathic grin and twitching eye.

Even after your lieutenant Lute shot you a stern look, no doubt pissed off because you couldn't sit still for five goddamn seconds, you still couldn't resist fidgeting with your spear. It was sparkly, and somewhat heavy, and a murderous weapon that was entirely yours! It was also cold, freezing almost. Even against your gloves it made your palms feel numb and seemed to shine in sync with your own valiant excitement.

Baby's first extermination, basically. While the name certainly sounded scary, you'd been waiting for this day for six months (you and the other forty-five cadets in your platoon) and you were ready to do your best! Sure, you were still technically a rookie, hanging around the flock and bringing up the rear of the exorcists, but this was how you proved yourself to rise the ranks, right?

Your heart stopped beating in your chest when you finally reached the front. Holy shit, that was the high seraphim! Sera, right? Oh wow, she really was much much taller in person, towering above the clustering sea of black and white murderous intent. Her outward vibe was motherly and caring, but you could see the glint of distain, guilt and regret sparking in the deepest depths of her eyes. Which was confusing, because you were doing a good thing, right? Ridding the divine planes of sinners irredeemable souls.

The thoughts crowded your mind - Evil, twisted monsters crawling around like bugs in the brimstone crowded crevices of hell. You could only imagine the satisfaction of killing your first hell spawn.

It would have to be cool no doubt. Something big with lots of teeth and claws and that could breathe fire! You had to come home with a cool story to brag about. You'd heard the tales from all your superiors. From everyone including the first man Adam himself, your respectably awesome (if a little terrifying) lieutenant Lute, to the other lieutenants like Michael and Gabriel. You'd have to off a demon built like a mountain to get their attention.

And by the big man himself, you were going to do it. Even if it took you a hundred years, you could already see yourself commanding a group just like yours, bearing a helmet with horns big and curved and bold, black stripes stippled along your ivory wings.

With a very particular pep in your step, you saluted the high seraphim Sera respectively, head cocked up just so you could regard her kindly warmth in fullness. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, and although she swiftly sent you on your way with the rest of your platoon, you couldn't help but let your nerves sway your resolve ever so slightly.

It didn't matter though! You unfurled your wings with perhaps a bit too much of a dramatic flair, but with your spear in hand and helm polished so it shined with malevolent glory, you kicked off without a second thought, tailing right behind where you were supposed to be.

Your first impression of hell was the heat.

With the extermination already well under way, raging fires were already burning up half of the city sending whorls of smog up into the air. You easily battered it away with a few strong flaps of your wings. With your head on the swivel, your eagle-eyes peered around the desolate land for the forms of the sinners struggling to thrive below, silhouettes hidden by the thick layer of smoke and ash blanketing the landscape.

Lieutenant Lute furled out her wings below you, a screeching war cry echoing throughout the battlefield as she all but left your rookie platoon in the metaphorical dust. The sound itself only spurred you on, itching for the blood of a demon on the blade of your angelic spear. Without a second thought, you tucked your wings to you sides and dived below, headfirst into the fray.

Billowing flames licked past you harmlessly, though they burned like hell (which seemed rather apt, considering where you). You didn't falter, flying through the embers like a goddamn phoenix ready to cleanse the realm sprawled out beneath you. The solid wingbeats of two of your fellow cadets only strengthened your resolution, a holy fire burning in your soul - An itch to clear the filth of devil scum away. This was the chaotic strength that your captain had sought to build in you, and now you were finally able to act on it.

But everywhere you looked, you only found simple, humanoid souls running and screaming in terror. Eyes wide, half-dead or bloodied beyond belief as they scrambled to find shelter from the onslaught of exorcists like yourself. Nowhere could you see the mangled forms of the demons you'd been taught to slaughter. Descriptions from your seniors before you passed through your mind - 'gleaming eyes with with wrath and lust', 'gangly limbs twisted to an unholy form', 'mouths filled with rows of sharp teeth, and claws like knives'.

You faltered, confused. The words of Lute rang out in your mind.

"Of course, it's not like they can actually hurt you. You're all warriors, the toughest, just use your spears to stab the shit out of them!"

You were alone now. You couldn't hear the comforting sounds of your fellow rookies behind you anymore. They were well in front of you now, peering around with a similar confusion to yours. But to your absolute horror, they simply shrugged their shoulders and dived forward with bloodlust evident in their glowing white masks. Silver points of spears were jammed through the heads of the terrified demons below. But were they demons? They didn't look like them at all. Every single book you'd seen depicting demons drew them as eldritch monsters with too many eyes to count, tentacles and claws and fangs with nary but bloodlust and vile thoughts hidden within their slitted eyes.

But the demons in front of you looked just like people. You could see the way their faces contorted in terror. You could see them scrambling to help what you could only assume were friends and family, pulling them along and carrying the ones who couldn't run for themselves. You could only feel your heart fall as you watched one of your best friends land on top of a sinner already crushed by rubble, turquoise skin stained red. The begged and pleaded and cried, but their voice was silenced as the spearhead sunk into their skull.

You flinched. The world around you ignored you completely, and for once, you were completely happy to go unnoticed.

Shakily, you touched-down in a nearby street. It was littered with already oozing corpses, but other than that it was peacefully empty. At least here the sounds of violence and pain and terror was muffled, far away enough that you could at least try to distance yourself and get your breathing under control.

You barely reeled in a gag as the smell of blood invaded your senses.

Was this really what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? You could still see yourself in your mind's eye, a model exorcist like your lieutenant now leading her own platoon into another extermination. Maybe this would be a one off, just a shock to the system that would get your mind reworked into killing mode. But, the more you thought about it, the more your heart clenched in pain and terror that seemingly matched the suffering souls around you. You were an agent of heaven, you thought you were killing mindless monsters, not those with human souls! Sure, there were probably shitty people fucking around down here, but what about all those who had to sin in self defence?

A chorus of startled gasps startled you out of your panic ridden stupor. Your wings flared up, trying to make yourself look bigger, more threatening as you wheeled around. The spear in your hands looked more like a prop at this point, and it was clear that you had minimal idea how to use it inside a proper battle. But still, you fumbled with it and pointed it threateningly in the direction of the two demons that had appeared right behind you.

They clutched each other, stumbling backwards and further away from the danger of your angelic weapon. One of them placed an arm in front of the other, her eyes narrowing behind her red-tinted glasses as if she was both terrified by you, but was daring you to do something about it.

But still, you could see them shaking from where you stood. They both seemed rooted to the ground, the one with platinum blonde hair refused to take her eyes off of you, but the demon behind her (maybe her sister? A friend?) was looking around nervously.

You could see yourself reflected in those crimson specs, and for once it made you freeze. You'd seen yourself in uniform plenty of times before, the steel boots and guard gloves and the led, horned helmet, but it always seemed almost comforting before. When you were surrounded by your cohorts, it made you fit in. Out here, you realised, you were the monster.

The ever-present smile on your mask shrunk, falling into a grimace as your grip on your weapon tightened. Your wings drew in, you shrunk backwards, almost stumbling over your own feet in the process of trying your hardest to get away. You never wanted to scare people.

So drowned by your own confusion and fear and reckless thoughts of worry about the future that you didn't notice the confusion growing the faces of the demons in front of you turn into abject horror as a far more ominous silhouette grew behind you.

"I thought I taught you not to hesitate," Lute growled in your ear, placing her free hand on your shoulder and digging her fingers in till your were sure a bruise was marred into your skin. You didn't respond, couldn't even if you wanted to. The trembling that rattled you only grew stronger, and you fumbled as your hands cramped painfully. With a resounding clatter, your spear dropped from your grasp an on to the brazen brimstone floor.

Lute growled.

She didn't say anything, but she knew. The both of you knew by now. You couldn't kill a sinner.

Lute didn't even hesitate before shoving you to the ground. Your head collided with solid stone painfully even with your helmet on, stars shining behind your eyes as her words blurred together as she pressed her foot firmly between your shoulder blades. Your wings shivered and spread involuntarily, and you feared the moments that would come next. Lute was unpredictable, but this could only end with bloodshed.

The two girls still hadn't moved, transfixed in horror as they watched the scene in front of them play out.

Asphalt stung your hands and you tried to claw your way to freedom, fingertips digging into the scorched Earth as you started crying. Lute, however, was stronger than you. Of course she was, she'd been doing this for centuries, and you were still a fledging on her first trip out of heaven.

You never thought it would end like this.

Lute dug her fingers into your wings, tangling into your still downy feathers before she yanked with all her might. The scream she tore from your lips was hellish, agonising, yet the blended with the sounds of violence all around you. You were sure you blacked out several times throughout the process, but by the time your old lieutenant was done with you, barely anything but feathery stumps and golden blood remained of your wings.

You could only curl up, cry and watch as Lute tossed clumps of feathers aside as she stalked toward the two demons that still hadn't had the thought to run. And for the first time in your life, you felt sorry for the sinners that populated hell's ring of wrath.

She would make them suffer, that was for sure. If she was happy enough to tear of another angel's wings, you could only imagine what she would do to a sinner. You didn't want to imagine, and your mind was fuzzy enough that you thankfully didn't have to.

The sound of something sharp rang throughout the air. It made you groan in pain, the sound piercing your ears and making your brain rattle in your skull. Sharp - 'Tink tink tink tink tink.' If you could see the look of relief coming across the demons faces, a part of you might've urged Lute to run. Only, she had just torn your wings off with little qualm, and now you had no shits left to give if she lived or not.

The exorcist never got the chance to strike, her weapon torn from her hands and thrown across the street till it collided with a bloody body. Lute herself barely had time to react before she was struck over the head once, then twice in rapid succession. A whirlwind of white and angelic steel and pure fury launched herself in the path between the two demons and the exorcist. It was almost exhilarating to watch, seeing Lute strike out with her fists in a pathetic attempt of hand to hand combat against her new foe. Whoever they were, they were really fucking fast, almost too fast for you to keep up with.

The fight was over before it started. Without her weapon, Lute couldn't do much against the sinner she was pitted against, and as ruthless as she was, she knew when a battle was lost. In a flurry of black and white feathers, she fled. And then the newcomer's attention was shifted to you.

At this point, you would've welcomed death. The pain alone was making you drift slightly, and you didn't even have the energy left to groan when whoever nudged you slightly with something hard and cold.

"Mother.." The words were so soft, floating away from your ears.

"We need to leave." It was undoubtably her. That voice was the one who beat Lute into the ground.

"What about..?" That was the one who called out for mother.

"Won't she tattle?" So that had to be her sister.

Those words sent a dose of adrenaline through you. With as much strength as you could muster, you clawed yourself into an upwards position. You could feel the clotting blood running down your back, but if you were going to die, you at least wanted to do so with some dignity.

Shakily, with much more effort than was really desired, you reached up and peeled your helmet off.

It clattered noisily like glass against the floor, and suddenly the world was much brighter, much more red and the air was laced with more sulphur and death than you could imagine. But what really surprised you was the look of shock written across the sinner's face.

She was tall. Really tall. The only person who could really compete was Seraphim Sera or maybe Adam, but you really couldn't tell with how delirious you were.

"Una niña?" They all looked surprised.

The one called mother took a few steps forward, confusion and anger clearly present in her eyes. But, as she kneeled down in front of your comparatively tiny form, you realised the anger wasn't directed at you.

"Did she try to hurt you?" She turned back to face her daughters. They both shared a look, but ultimately shook their heads no. That right there, was your saving grace.

She looked back at you, hair pinned into high horns, and took your helmet in her large hands. She passed it off to one of her daughters, before gently scooping you into her hold.

You whined, writhing minutely in her hold as the searing phantom pain of your wings being torn off returned. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, and yet the demoness tutted softly, shushing you like you were a baby.

Her daughters followed without a word, and you and the family unit moved swiftly through the desolate roads. So many questions were running through your mind, and yet you couldn't find the answer to any of them, your thoughts to lost to the fog of blood loss to ever truly return.

"You better not betray me," Were the last words you heard before promptly passing out.

The plushness of a soft blanket was the first thing you felt waking up. For a moment, you felt nothing but relief realising the entire thing had been a horrid nightmare, but when you tried to rustle the numbness out of your wings, the relief was replaced with horror when you realised that your wings were just straight up missing, only two feathery stumps remaining in their place.

That made you shoot up in horror. You didn't even care about the sharp sting that ran down your spine and into your very being, you were a bit too concerned about your current predicament.

"You're awake."

That made you promptly scream before ducking under the covers like you were a nestling again. A soft sigh reached your ears, but you dared not to venture out from the warmth of the thick covers.

Not like you had a choice, though, as you were soon pried away from their safety. It was her, the demoness with the high-pinned buns. She looked down on you, red eyes glowing in the low light, and yet, you couldn't sense a smidge of hatred towards you. Only distrust and sadness laced her expression.

"How old are you?" She asked after the silence had gone on long enough.

"I'm a fledgling," Is all you said. You didn't really fancy giving too much information. Although, the look of horror the crossed her face maybe suggested that you'd already given away plenty.

"Obligan a los niños a hacer esto?" She raised a hand and carded it through her snowy tresses, locks of white hair threaded loose as she paced back and forth. You only watched her, slowly sinking back into the comfort of the warm blankets.

"You're still a child." It was a statement.

You hated being a child. You didn't want to be a child, at least, you hadn't wanted to be a child in the past. You wanted to join the ranks of the exorcists, and to do that you at least needed to be juvenile. Hell, you were lucky enough to make it into the cadets while you still had baby feathers decorating your wings. But now, the fact that yes, you were still technically a kid made your saviour look upon you with more than just disdain and hatred like any other exorcist, but rather she looked upon you with an emotion that you'd never seen before, and not one you could really name.

"You are a child, and now you have fallen," She eyed your mostly healed wing stumps, and you couldn't help but reflexively flex them anxiously. The literal weight off your back made you want to cry.

"Was this your first extermination?" She gazed upon you with a guarded look. You nodded.

"And you didn't hurt my daughters?" Another nod from you. That seemed to make her relax just a tad.

"Could you ever hurt someone?" That made you pause, the memories of the extermination rushing back to you full force. Tears grew at the corners of your eyes, and still, you answered with a simple 'no'.

She exhaled a sigh of relief before closing the distance and kneeling down to your eye level.

"Carmilla Carmine." She reached a hand out toward you. So that was her name.

You clutched your hands close to your chest, fearing her touch, but gave her your name anyway.

"What are you gonna do with me?" You asked, voice cracking. Her gaze softened, finally letting her guard slip for just a moment.

"Well, you weren't going to make it out there by yourself. You'll be staying with me," The words took a moment to sink into your mind. Well, at least it was better than death.

Gently, like she was working with a scared animal, Carmilla coaxed you out from the comfort of the bed, slowly ushering you to her side. With your wings missing and their remains bandaged, head bare and missing your exorcist helmet, it felt like the safest place in the world.

"Welcome to Hell."

Rules + Info,

Masterlist,

[imbored1201]

Bebita’s First Red

Word Count: 1.9k

This is most a Mapi x Teen Reader

Mapi and you had a complicated relationship. You were pretty much a demon in her eyes while you acted innocent with everyone else. 

Mapi couldn't even rant about you to Ingrid because even Ingrid wouldn't believe her. Alexia saw you as a precious little toddler, even though you were 16 with a huge attitude.

At first, Mapi thought you were innocent; she was even careful with what she said around you. It wasn't until national team duties. Ingrid went with Norway, and Alexia went with Spain. Mapi volunteered to take care of you while Alexia was gone. She regretted it. 

A day before Alexia was supposed to come back, you thought it would be fun to run away for the day. When Mapi did her daily check-in on you and couldn't find you, she nearly had a heart attack. She was too scared to call Patri or Pina, knowing they would probably let it slip to Alexia. 

The next day, when she had to pick Alexia and Ingrid up from the airport, she was more furious than worried. Ingrid noticed how tense she was as Mapi drove back to the house, ignoring any questions Alexia asked about you. 

By the time they got home, you had snuck back in. Mapi tried telling Alexia about how you've been gone for a day. That sent Alexia into a world of panic. She rushed inside the place, thinking it was one of Mapi's dumb pranks. There she found you, sitting on the couch, watching SpongeBob. 

Alexia was furious with Mapi for lying about you running away. She glared at her as she dragged you out of the house, calling an Uber instead of asking Mapi to drive you guys back home. Alexia never played around when it came to you.

Ever since that day, Mapi has tried her hardest to get Alexia to open her eyes about you. Alexia saw you as a tiny angel who could do no wrong, but you were the complete opposite. Mapi didn't even understand how you were able to put up with that act for so long. 

————

Mapi watched as you sat anxiously on the field during training. "Come on, kid, get to running." "Jonatan said I could sit out since I just threw up." Mapi was sure you were lying, but she just let it go. 

As practice went on, Mapi kept a close eye on you. She thought you were up to something but refused to get involved since the blame would go on her and not you. 

While Mapi thought about this, you were fearing for your life. You were so close to faking a sickness so you didn't have to go to the next game. You thought about going to Alexia for your situation, but she wasn't playing, so there was really no way she would be able to protect you. 

You sighed as you looked at Mapi. You didn't know if she would defend you, but she was probably the most intimidating person that would be on the field. Mapi sometimes even intimidates you, and she knew it. 

"Mapi, I'm scared," you ran up to her out of breath. "Why?" She questioned, not bothering to look at you from where she was seated. "One of the girls on the team were playing; she wants to kill me, like break my legs and laugh while I cry in pain." She looked up at you, confused. 

"What?" 

"So the defender, I forgot her name, but she texted me last night, you know, doing the usual crap talk, and I started talking back, but when she said she was going to wreck me, I replied,  'I already wrecked your mama in bed, and I'm going to wreck you next on the field'. She didn't like that and got really mad." Mapi sighed, trying not to laugh at your scared expression. 

"That's called consequences, kid. You have to watch who you're talking to," you scoffed. "I know, Maria; I honestly don't know what possessed me to say that, but I didn't mean it. She's going to kill me; have you seen her?! She's built like Shaquille O'Neal."

Mapi rolled her eyes at how overdramatic you were being. "She's shorter than me." Mapi started to look the girl up to see if she was really as big as you were trying to put off. "She's buffer than you; you think Lucy can beat her up?" Mapi scoffed, "I can beat her." You giggled at that. 

"Sure, you can; one tiny push, you'll be running behind Ingrid" "I hope she punches you" "Hey!" 

————

You held tight onto Ingrid's jacket in the tunnel; you could feel the girl staring you down. Mapi was behind you, trying to hold in her laugh. She stopped when you genuinely looked at her with fear in your eyes. She rubbed your back to comfort you. You were just a dumb kid being threatened by a middle-aged woman who was way bigger than you. 'I'd be scared too,' Mapi thought to herself. 

She turned to the girl and gave her a glare, so she would stop paying attention to you and only focus on her. 

She also made sure to squeeze the players hand very hard to give her a little warning as everyone shook hands. The girl skipped you during the handshakes, not even looking at you; you were grateful for that, and you thought she would have broken your hand right there. 

————

That warning was not taken to heart. 

Mapi's fist clinched when she saw the girl push you as you tried moving forward with the ball, making you take a hard tumble. She was over it now; only she was allowed to push you around like that, and even then, Alexia would yell at her for it, but unfortunately, Alexia wasn't there. 

"Ay! Stop playing dirty," Mapi said, pushing the girl away from where she stood over your body. Mapi quickly helped you up and watched as the player walked away, not before getting a yellow. 

"Stand up for yourself," she told you. "Mapi, if I say something, she'll break my leg." She just gave you a look. "I'm serious, if you keep letting her punk you around like that, then I'm going to punk you around for a month, and I don't care what Alexia says," you huffed as you got the ball ready for a free kick. 

"Alexia says to answer by playing good," Mapi scoffed. "Don't listen to Alexia for once; I don't care if you get a red; I'll take the blame, but stop letting that girl walk all over you. You always let people walk all over you, then you hide behind Alexia for help. She won't always be on the field to help you." You nodded as you walked away to let Mapi take the free kick. 

————

That advice would be the reason you got your first ever red card. You were already on a yellow for pushing the girl the same way she pushed you. Near the 70th minute, you were elbowed right in the face when trying to go for a header. Of course, Shaquille O'Neal was the one who did it. 

You groaned, glaring at the girl, when she touched your back and tried to act like she elbowed you on accident. You smacked her hands away.

Before she could actually touch you again, you shoved her hard. To your surprise, you pushed her hard enough that it actually sent her to the ground. 

The referee quickly blew her whistle frantically, running to you. This iconic moment was your first red card. You were quite proud of it, honestly. 

"Mierda!" Mapi yelled as she quickly ran before the girl could get back up and body-slam you. She quickly pushed you behind her, and you were taken away by Lucy. 

That didn't end there, though. When the girl got up, she tried to shove the referee away to get to you, but Mapi stepped in front of her. That just got her a shove in the face. She sold it, being more dramatic, so the girl would get her second yellow as well. 

"You grew some balls, kid," Lucy commented. "She started it," you defended yourself, and you looked to where Alexia was sitting in the stands. The red card was shown to you. Lucy tried to hold in her laugh as she led you off the field. It wasn't a huge deal considering you guys were winning 5-0 with 20 minutes left, but now you felt guilty. 

Alexia was standing up, clearly trying to hold herself back from yelling at you from the stands. Jana was recording, and Fridolina was trying to get Alexia to sit back down by pulling on her sleeve. 

"Sorry, Jonatan," you mumbled to the man as you walked past him. He simply patted your shoulder. "We'll talk about this later."

————

You sat on the bench with your head in your hands, scolding yourself mentally for losing control like that. Yeah, you were sticking up for yourself, but it could have cost the team. 

"Don't you dare sulk; be proud that you stood up for yourself." Mapi tried hyping you up as she entered the locker room, excited. 

"I could have cost us the game." Mapi looked at you, confused. "We were winning 5-0 with 20 minutes left; I'm pretty sure we would have been fine."

"Alexia is going to kill me." Just when you said that, Alexia rushed in, you pulled Mapi in front of you. "She looks scary," you whispered. 

"What was that?!" Alexia yelled, everyone who was in the locker room froze, and the ones who were entering immediately stopped talking.

"Calmate Alexia, would you rather see her get bullied around?" Alexia stayed silent at that question.

Pina came in singing, "Bebita got her first red." She cried dramatically. "How does it feel?" Patri pretended to hold a mic.

"It feels like I lost my virginity." Alexia smacked the back of your head while Mapi gave you a secret high five. "That feeling is amazing," Patri elbowed you. "Stop it!" Alexia scolded. 

Salma came in holding a red card. "I convinced the referee to give it to me. Frame it, kid." You took it from her and admired the fact your number was on it.

"I'm proud of you, Bebita; you stood up for yourself." Mapi pulled you into a hug. "She's still grounded, Mapi." Mapi glared at Alexia. 

"Leave Bebita alone; she was just defending herself," you giggled to yourself. Technically,  you had started the whole thing with the mom comment, but it seemed like Mapi was ignoring that now. 

"Fine, but you're running extra laps, Mapi." "But she didn't do anything." You didn't like how Alexia was targeting Mapi now. "I know she was the one to tell you to do that."

"She told me to stand up for myself since I was being bullied by that Shaquille O'Neil girl," Alexia groaned in frustration. 

"Fine, you both are doing extra laps," you giggled to yourself. Knowing you would probably take her mind off of it when you got home by doing extra chores. 

————

That card sat proudly in a frame. Alexia let you have your moment and even took a bunch of pictures for you as you held it proudly. She posted the pictures to her Instagram like a proud mother posting their child after they got an award.

[secretly-asleep]

People don't talk nearly enough about Q in Bungo Stray Dogs. Even with their limited screentime we still got a massive insight into their backstory. Compared to Kyouka, who when we meet, presumably was aready in the PM anywhere from 6 months, to 4 years, making it possible that she joined at 10 years old, her being 14 in the current time.

We've seen how being a part of the Port Mafia affects different people, but no one has been part of the PM for quiet as long as Q, and we don't even get to see what their life was before the PM. But we can assume it nothing good. We know that Q is one year younger then Kyouka, but the diffrence between the two of them being, that Q joined the PM at 6 years old, or prehaps even younger. My theory is that Q was locked up for at least a few years in some sort of 3rd space (similar to Lucy's ability) possibly by Dazai's order.

( Q, age 6 )

Character's like Dazai, Chuuya and Higuchi have a strong distain for Q, which means Q has been locked up for at least 4 years. Q supposed ranpage where they took out Chuuya's subordinates happend when Q was 9. (Q being 13 in the current time)

Compare Q to Yosano Akiko, who was 11 when she joined the army. And because of Mori's tactics and manipulation, earned the nickname of "Angel of Death". We saw in real time how quickly Mori is able to dystroy a person, make them a shadow of themself. How he turned a 11 year old, happy, friendly Yosano, who was ready to help anyone, into a child that was borderline shellshock, a person that was content to rotting in a asylum for the rest of her life. And after 3 years of her being unresponsive, in that said asylum, she still fought the idea of being able to exist as a real person.

The thing that stands out to me the most is that Q has more hatred towards Dazai more then Mori. Because we can safely assume Q was at least partially under Dazai's training, and we know Dazai does not have the most orthodox methods of beating new PM members into shape. The way Mori trusts Q to walk around and take the train on their own, without fearing that they might run away is really telling of how much the loyality to the PM was burnt into Q mind. We can imagine Q does not remember much of anything before the PM. Q has had only one place in this world untill now, and that has been being a killing machine for the PM, no questions asked, we can probably assume Q has no idea that they could leave.

The only autonomy Q has ever had is regarding to their power, but even that being dictated by Mori's orders. Q has no autonomy over anything in their life, if It's regarding if they want to kill people or not, if they want to help do the PM's bidding, or if they are content with being locked in, presumably, self-isolation for over 4 years. Lock up a 9 year old kid for 4 years only with their own thought's and be suprised when they turn out that way.

I've always thought of the parallels between Kyouka and Yosano, the same way both of them were made to hate their powers, Kyouka having to use it to hurt people against her wishes, and Yosano essentially being forced to make the people she looked up to, come to the brink of death, only to send them to die again.

Both Kyouka and Yosano were extreamly ashamed of their powers, becuse it made human life seem so insignificant, Kyouka being able to kill without actually being close to a target. and letting Demon Snow do it for her.

Kyouka and Yosano's abilitys are both not necessarily meant to hurt people, one being healing, and the other protecting it's user, not to mention, Demon Snow is a gift from Kyouka's mother, given in order to protect her.

Now, back to Q, a power, that we don't know that much of, for example, we don't know if the mind control could make someone feel at peace. But that wouldn't matter, because no matter how Q's ability was used, Q's ability can only be activated when somebody hurts them. No matter how much someone tries to use Q's for good, It will always hurt someone, that either being another, or Q themself. Do we really put it past the PM, in all the years Q was in training, to not have tourtured Q untill they got ahold of how their ability worked? The subordinates Chuuya talked about, are we sure that wasn't a cruel training for Q? Where Mori made people hurt Q, those people possibbly being people in the PM?

One is being forced your ability to cause harm, the other is your ability being designed to hurt you, and everyone eles.

If Q was subject to so much pain in their formative years, imagine how desensitized, they are to it. And all of this, the work of Mori, and the rest of the Port Mafia.

When Q was kidnapped by Steinbeck and forced to hurt so many civilians, we saw how people are able to manipulate Q's ability against their will, and who's to say, The PM didin't do that aready?

We saw how Q says that they never chose this ability, and how they didin't understand why all these horrible things happend because of them, asking Steinbeck why this is the case, when everyone is supposed to be equal in the eyes of god. Steinbeck being that god does exist, but that he has no space in his heart for Q.

This makes it pretty apparent that Q has not wanted to hurt all the people that they did, but that they were conditioned to do so, by the PM.

Q hasn't been seen since, but I would really enjoy seeing Yosano and Q interact, becuse they share so many similarities.

I don't think there would be a redemption arc for Q anytime soon, but Q is very dear to me as a character, and I really want them to appear more, the only problem being is, I have a feeling they are once again, locked up.

[deanscherrypie420]

𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍

A/N: Hi everyone! This is a requested story (If you look on my page, its the angel!reader one :) ) I hope you like it @fruitmilkshake !

Characters: Angel!Reader Y/N, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Warnings: Angels, Demons, toxic ex-relationship, violence, angelic powers, abduction, death scare, angst with a happy ending, clingy-ish reader, slow burn, fluffy ending (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: After a bad break-up, you run to your closest friend. You knew he had company, but you didn't know you'd fall head over heels for a Winchester.

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

The brothers were minding their business, Dean cleaning his guns and Sam working on his computer. Castiel was sitting and talking to Dean about an odd feeling he's been having.

"Something is not right... I've been sensing it throughout the week. Dean, I think something is wrong." He explained, waving his hands around his lap.

Dean shook his head, pointing a disabled gun at his friend. "It's nothing, Cas. You're just bein' a paranoid son of a bitch." He nodded and stared his lap, processing Dean's words.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of energy overwhelm the room. He sensed it before the brothers did, a loud screeching burning their eardrums. Sam's laptop screen shattered, along with all the dishes in the sink.

Castiel took a moment to stand up, a force nearly holding him back. Accompanying the deafening sound was loud bangs at the door. He swung the door open and suddenly everything went silent.

Dean jolted up from the bed, gun in hand. Sam turned and grabbed his knife, standing next to his brother. They couldn't see past Castiel's shoulders, but they noticed how his demeanor softened.

"Y/N?" He breathed out, forcing you into a tight hug. "What happened?" She pushed him away, hot, rage filled tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I need help." She muttered, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist. He nodded and pulled her into the room, closing the motel door behind them.

After a lot of explaining, Sam and Dean finally came around to her. "So, you're an angel, you were dating a demon, he's crazy and now he's trying to... Kill you?" Sam summarized, raising a brow.

She nodded, holding eye contact with the man. He cleared his throat, a bit uncomfortable. "Okay, so what the hell are we supposed to do?" Dean scoffed, tossing his phone onto the nightstand.

His brother glared at him, trying to be empathetic with her situation. Her fists balled, nails pressing hard into her palm. "You aren't gonna do anything. I came here to be with my friend. Not you." She remarked, standing up moving away from them.

Sam stood up and came to her side, pressing a reassuring hand to her shoulder. "Hey, we can help you. We've dealt with way worse than a crazy demon." She pushed his hand off and scowled, brows furrowed tight.

"Castiel, are you going to help me, or not?" She asked, ignoring the brothers completely now. He nodded and stood up as well, standing incredibly close to her.

"Of course, you have my word."

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

Sam was cooking breakfast in the bunker. They had returned home from a case the night before, beat up and exhausted. He figured this would lighten the mood.

Y/N had been going with them, and honestly it wasn't terrible. She was a great asset, always healing them when needed. She was a lot stronger than Castiel when it came to their powers and she understood social cues better, which they all liked.

Sometimes, she would still get a bit confused with the brothers slang, but she was overall really smart. She had been around for thousands of years, with the same body and same age. She had seen horrific crimes throughout her life, slowly losing faith in her human companions.

Sam was different though. Both of the brothers were different, but Sam consumed her mind. His personality, his smile, and oh god, his kindness. He was so generous to everyone, even to her, and she adored it.

"Hey, Angel. How'd you sleep?" He asked her, dragging her away from her thoughts. She smiled and walked towards him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his back. "I don't need to sleep, Sam. You know that."

He chuckled and nodded, clicking the stove off. "How could I forget." He joked, turning to wrap his arm around her. She picked up a piece of potato from the pan and ate it, giving him a grin. "Delicious, tastes like nothingness."

Dean cleared his throat in the doorway, raising a brow suspiciously. "Hey, lovebirds." He muttered, still a bit tired from waking up. Sam's cheeks warmed and he patted her arm, "We're just friends, Dean." He responded, moving away from her and serving the food.

She felt a small pit in her gut. Unsure as to why, she brushed it off and sat down with them, something Castiel made her do to be "a part of the family."

They chatted about the case, but her angel companion made the conversation short-lived. "Has Kedron interacted with you at all, Y/N?"

She stiffened, giving him an awkward look. "No... We can talk about this privately, if you wish to continue." She mumbled back, earning a concerned look from Sam.

"We're here to help, too. We are all going to be involved in this fight." He told her, engulfing her hand in his. He gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand.

"Yeah, okay. Fine, but I don't want you getting hurt." She murmured and he smiled. Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. "But I can?" The table broke out in a small fit of laughter, Y/N clarifying that she wants everyone to be safe.

But especially Sam...

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

"Cas, this was a bad idea!" Dean hollered, his head slamming into the pole he was tied to. All of them were tied up, Dean doubled-down inside of a devils trap.

Sam was half conscious, and Castiel was only restraining himself because a blade was being held to both the brothers throats. Y/N was knocked out, a man circling her like she was prey.

"I've missed this..." He cooed, twirling a knife in her hair. Sam lulled his head to the side, groaning quietly. "Get away from her." He muttered, squirming against his ropes.

Kedron laughed, an obnoxious sound that made the brothers cringe. He pranced over to Sam and nodded to the man behind him. He yanked the Winchester's head back, a firm hold on his hair. A guttural sound left him, bellowing deep from within.

"You, Sam Winchester... I've learned so much about you, and God! You make me sick." He spat at him, his blade tracing Sam's jawline. Behind him, Y/N was waking up, eyes fluttering open slowly.

Her pupils nearly disappeared when she realized what was happening. Kedron was slicing a line down Sam's chest while Dean and Castiel begged for him to stop.

The lights in the room began to flicker and explode, glass showering the ground. The demon lit up, a wicked grin highlighting his features. "Good morning, Sunshine!" He exclaimed, and she heard Sam struggling.

"What did you do to him?" Her voice was quiet but sharp, anger seeping through her skin. He just smiled, toying with the hem of her clothes. "Is he hurt?" She reiterated, and her answer was Sam screaming out in pain.

She watched over Kedron's shoulder as a man then moved over to Dean, cutting deep within his belly. "No!" She screamed, but he continued torturing them.

He was whispering something in her ear, but she was so overwhelmed, so furious. She watched as a man returned to Sam, sitting him up pressing a blade to his throat.

No.

Within a second she had blasted everyone back, freeing herself from her bindings. She brought the blade Kedron was holding to her hand, holding it with an iron grip.

She got on top of him, holding him by the throat. "You shouldn't bring a demon-killing blade to a fight. You buried your own grave." She growled before stabbing his heart.

After butchering everybody in the room, she finally reached a sense of control. She dropped the knife and ran to Sam, holding her hand to his chest to heal his wounds. "Sammy, answer me. Answer me, dammit!" She pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.

She turned when she heard a thud, adrenaline coursing through her body. Castiel nodded at her as he took care of Dean, letting her know she was fine.

She didn't feel fine. Sam wasn't waking up and she couldn't stop shaking. Her breath was shallow as she tried to heal him again. She couldn't focus, couldn't get it right. "Wake up, Sam!" She screamed, hard sobs following after.

He just laid there, motionless and stiff. She crawled backwards, repulsed by what she caused. "It's my fault... It's my fault." She choked out, her palms digging into her eyes.

She was crying so hard, coughing and choking on her own tears. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, shut tight as she cursed herself. It's all my fault, I killed him, it's my fault. She chanted in her head over and over again, tearing herself apart.

She gasped when she felt two strong arms wrap around her, pulling her flush with his chest. "Hey, hey... It's okay," Sam croaked, his throat incredibly dry.

"S-Sam?" She sighed in relief, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. She rambled incoherent apologies and other statements, but he just quieted her and did his best to soothe her.

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

Y/N wouldn't leave his side, constantly making sure he was okay. Right now, he was in his room watching T.V and she was sitting next to him, fidgeting with the blanket.

She kept glancing over at him, as if to check he was still there. After this repeated for a good thirty minutes, he sighed and grabbed her arm, pulling her onto his chest,

"What are you doing?" She blurted out, pawing at his chest to push away. He hugged her waist tighter and chuckled. "Calm down, Angel. I'm just cuddling."

She nodded and instinctively started tracing the outline of his abs, her hand enjoying the warmth beneath his shirt. "Why?" She mumbled and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Because, it's not just your job to make sure I'm comfortable."

She raised a brow and maneuvered fully on top of him, his hands finding their place on her thighs. "But it is my job... I mean, I don't get paid for it, but it's my responsibility." She countered, and he smiled, resting his forehead to hers.

"And it's my responsibility to make sure you're okay, too." She tried to protest, but he continued. "Don't argue with me, just accept it." He finished, and she couldn't help but smile.

She reached her hands up and started playing with his hair, his smile growing as well. "Sammy, you know you're the nicest human I've ever met." She whispered, and he tilted his head. "Yeah?"

She nodded, a quiet giggle escaping her lips. "Yeah, you are, and I really like you for it." She added, and he chuckled. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, stroking her hair back.

"I really like you too, Angel."

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

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! This was my first angel reader fic, this took WAY longer than I expected and I am SO sorry. I didn't proof read it so let me know if there are any mistakes <3

Like, reblog, follow, and comment <3 :)

[allisluv]

Hello!! i love your finnick stuff and saw you wanted requests. could you write some head cannons or one shot (your call) on like a situation where the reader and finnick are married and she finally tells him she’s ready to have a kid and they actually, yk, make the child (mb i’m awkward ). just like smut. if you could thank you love!! <3

first time for everything.

content warnings: nsfw, established relationship, fem!reader, set post rebellion, unprotected p in v, poorly written smut, use of the phrase good girl, finnick has a praise kink and a breeding kink!!

word count: 1.2k

You're just beginning to wind down after a home-cooked meal. Finnicks thumb traces patterns into the smooth skin on the back of your hand as you listen to the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart.

"Finnick?" he hums to show he's listening, momentarily pulling his attention away from the television screen in your bedroom. "Do you ever think about having kids?" He slowly reaches across for the remote control and switches off the tv as you straighten up. You suck in a deep breath. "Is that something you want with me? I mean, now that the war's over, we don't have to worry about the games anymore."

"Of course, i want kids with you, angel, but only when you're ready," he says, quirking one brow. "Why? Are you saying what I think you're saying?" His lips turn upwards into a smile when you nod your head. "Well..." He sweeps your hair off your shoulders and presses a kiss to your collarbone. "What do you say we get started straight away?"

He gently pushes you down onto the bed and you nuzzle your face into the junction between his neck and shoulder, stifling a laugh. "Finnick!"

"What?" he giggles, pecking your lips. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks, hovering over you, leaning his weight on his forearms.

"Absolutely not," you yank him down by his collar and he slots his lips over your own.

You can feel him smiling against your skin as he sucks on the sweet spot behind your ear. Sighing contentedly, you card your fingers through his golden curls and scratch at his scalp.

You whine when he pulls away but he shushes you gently and coaxes you to sit up. He kisses the pout off your lips and slips your nightshirt over your head, exposing your bare chest.

Finnick groans. "You're killing me here, angel." He trails his fingertips down your body, and your hips lift to meet him as he slips his hand down the waistband of your shorts. He pushes your underwear to one side and carefully plunges his finger into your core, thumb tracing lazy circles on your clit.

You moan as he nips at your collarbone, pearly white teeth sinking into your skin just enough for it to border on pain and still be pleasurable. His fingers work wonders and he doesn't let up until you've came not once, but twice. "Have to make sure you're all ready for me, baby," he says when you whine. "You're being so good for me. My good, sweet girl. You think you're ready for me, hm?"

"Please," you beg, voice desperate and needy as you buck your hips up to meet his own. He groans, burying his head in the crook of your shoulder and taking in a deep breath. "Please, Finn, I need you."

"Well, how could I say no when you ask like that, angel? So polite, so pretty, so good, all for me, yeah?" He drags the tip of his nose down your jawline and sucks a hickey into the slender column of your throat. "You think you're ready?"

You groan, and part of you registers how pathetic you sound, but part of you doesn't care. "C'mon, don't be a tease." He smiles against your skin once more at the wanton sound of you begging. "Don't you want to fuck a baby into me?"

Finnick nearly comes in his pants like a teenager. "Fucking hell." He leans back on his heels, pulls down his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion, just enough to free his cock from it's confinements. He rids himself of his shirt and you of your joggers next. He strokes himself before lining himself up with your entrance. He captures your mouth in a kiss, and pushes into you.

No matter how many times you have sex with Finnick, the stretch of him will never fail to make tears prickle in the corners of your eyes. You moan into his mouth and when he pulls away to intertwine your fingers with his, you bite his shoulder. He lets out a pitiful groan and pushes in deeper, whispering praises as he does so.

When you whine at the intrusion, he stops immediately, giving you a minute to get used to it. He wipes a bead of sweat off your forehead and kisses your cheek. "Doing so well for me. Always taking it like a good girl. My strong, good girl. You think you can handle more?" You nod your head earnestly and he smiles, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. "You're doing so good."

He takes his time pushing in, making sure he gives you ample time to adjust to his size. Once he's buried to the hilt, he slips his tongue into your mouth, the kiss a clash of teeth and tongue.

He grins when you moan. "Sound so pretty for me. Making such sweet sounds, angel." He pulls out and you whine at the loss before he pushes back in again.

"Feel so full," you murmur, blunt nails scratching at his bare back as you buck your hips up to meet him. "You gonna fuck a baby into me?"

Finnick just about loses his shit at that. He buries his head into the crook of your neck and nips at the slender column of your throat before soothing it with his tongue. "I'm gonna make you a mama. Gonna fuck you full of my cum. You want that, angel?" You nod your head. "Need to hear you say it honey."

You throw your head back as he hits the right spot. "Please. I want you. Need you so bad, baby."

Finnick clicks his tongue condescendingly. "Well, you know I can't deny you when you ask so politely." He soothes you with soft caresses when you try to wriggle closer and closer to him. He chuckles under his breath. "Alright, alright, angel, I can take a hint." He rolls his hips, thrusting into you hard. Your head lolls back against the satin pillow and he smooths your hair out of your face. "Doing so well for me. Milking my cock like a good girl."

"I'm gonna cum," you warn, pulling him closer and catching his lips as the coil in your stomach comes undone. He works you through your orgasm and follows quickly after you, shooting hot ropes of cum into your cunt. "Fuck!"

Finnick swallows your words with a kiss, and slowly pulls out of you, rolling over to lie on his back as the two of you come down from your high. He pulls your sweaty body onto his chest, and kisses your forehead sweetly. "Was that okay, baby? I didn't push you too far or anything, did I?"

You shake your head and lean up on your elbows to kiss him. "It was perfect." He goes to move, ready to get a warm washcloth to wash you down with, but you hold him in place. "There's no point." He arches a brow. "We should do that again. You know, to make sure it sticks."

Finnick laughs. "You know what? That's a good idea." He chuckles as he rolls on top of you once more, trapping you under the weight of his body.

[chiefdirector]

I love you, it's ruining my life | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

I love you, it's ruining my life

The first day was the easiest of all. His world has come crashing down around him and yet he was still standing amongst the rubble. Tim didn't know what was true anymore, the love of his life has disappeared right before his eyes and he was helpless to change that.

He spent the entirety of the first day on the streets of Los Angeles, he rookie by his side, searching for his wife but it was fruitless. He returned home alone.

The second day was worse. Just as he returned home by himself, he woke to an empty bed, her pillows still indented from the last time she had slept there. He didn't make the bed, instead he shoved the sickening feeling that had begun to grow back down and left for work.

The second day of searching for his wife turned up the same results as the first. She was a detective of the LAPD, and yet not a single officer could offer a lead as to where she had gone. She had been taken away with the wind, never to be seen again.

He didn't want to admit it but as the days and weeks passed by, Tim oculd feel his hopelessness return. He was a police Sargent, he knew the statistics on missing persons cases. And it wasn't like she was without her enemies, there was a never-ending list of people who would want to harm her. It was a risk of the job, but yet he never thought it would effect them.

All my mornings are Mondays stuck in an endless February I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary

Despite only a year passing, there was more evidence leading to declare her to be dead rather than another name on the missing-persons list. Tim thought that her funeral would have been the hardest day; watching the empty coffin be lowered into the ground damn near killed him too, but his heart kept beating. It was agonising but he kept on living, he couldn't stop living.

The worst day came only a few weeks later. The memory of the day was fleeting; hazed by the rush of emotions and the actions taken. One moment he was in Sargent Grey's office, and seemingly in the next, he was running through the woods watching her run towards him also.

They crashed together, his arms wrapping around his body, bringing her warmth closer to him. Not matter how close she was, she needed to be closer to him; he didn't want to be apart again, his heart wouldn't be able to take it.

I love you, it's ruining my life

He never wanted to feel that pain again. To love someone as much as he loved her could only leave one of them suffering. He knew that he wouldn't survive loving her and losing her again. He needed to protect himself this time.

He knew that despite everything that happened she wouldn't step back from danger, instead she would come up with a million and one reasons why he was being unreasonable. He had only one option, to make her believe something untrue.

So the worst day came around the following morning, as he sat her down at the breakfast table they had once spent their days laughing over.

"I can't do this anymore," He said, hating himself as the words come out, "I can't live like this, waiting for the call to find out you've been hurt - or worse. I've lived through it and it nearly killed me. I can't do it again."

Panic crossed her face, as she tried to process his words, "Tim, what do you mean?"

"I can't keep waiting for the worst to happen. I love you, and it's ruining my life."

And for a fortnight there, we were forever

-------

Masterlist

Tags: @rookietrek @kmc1989 @fluentmoviequoter

Let me know if you want to be added to my Tim Bradford/Rookie tag list

[novelconcepts]

In watching more interviews with Liv about Van and the escalation of Van's pragmatism to such dark degrees, I find myself genuinely baffled that anyone could ever think Van the bad guy. I mean, I'm perplexed at finding ANY of these girls The Bad Guy. The bad guy is the situation. It's being lost. It's freezing. It's starving. It's being scraped down to the barest bone of being alive. They make choices that might be snippy, or cruel, or hard-headed, sure--Shauna refusing to just hash it out with Jackie; Jackie being too stubborn to come inside; Taissa refusing to discuss her situation plainly; etc--but by the time we reach the end of season 2, it doesn't even matter. Petty bullshit doesn't matter. Jealousy doesn't matter. Those things are still going to be present and complicated, because--for all their choices, for all the distancing they're trying to do--these kids ARE still human beings. But it isn't the point.

The point is survival. Plain, simple, straightforward. Van's pragmatism is survival. It is the difference between living another day with blood on your teeth or dying pretty. It is the difference between fighting forward through the fire and the snow and the hell of it all, and laying down to die. Van knowing, in watching the ritual violence of Shauna beating Lottie nearly the death, that they will be killing and eating one another soon. Van coming up with the cards for the hunt. Van not blinking when the moment comes, Van choosing a weapon that doubles as a tool to bring the body back, Van refusing to apologize for staying alive--it's not evil. It's not Bad Guy behavior. It's purely about survival, because there is nothing else left to her--or to any of them. They can play the pretty little Sweet Angel Girl game and die, or they can get dirty, bloody, horrific and fight. Van chooses the fight. Van chooses to fight for herself, for her lover, for her team, even knowing not everyone is going to make it out...because the alternate path there is that no one makes it out. Van knew the baby wouldn't live. Van knows the rest of them won't, either. Not unless they start making the hard choices.

And, honestly, the fact that Van sees this narrative coming. Comes up with this plan. Brings out the cards. To me, that is the opposite of Bad Behavior. That is as close to justice as anyone can find in the wilderness. If someone else came up with an idea, maybe it would have come down to voting--but that would have had such a human element to it, with bitterness or hostility or whatever ultimately petty shit always comes of humans selecting who to Other. The cards don't leave room for that. It isn't fair, because the situation isn't fair, because Man vs. Nature isn't fair, but it's as close to a just system as they could possibly find. It's the kindest solution to an unwinnable game. Not to bring it back to American Gods again, but all I can think is "it's easy, there's a trick to it: you do it, or you die." Van gave them that.

[dovahkiin796]

Shadow Generations

If the Fallen Angel motifs weren't obvious enough with Shadow's wings. This is the nail in the coffin. A biblical accurate Black Doom form of some kind. That thing looming over you in the White Space is going to be so creepy. Always watching you no matter where you go.

Looks like Black Doom still wants Shadow to be a part of his army. That honestly does makes sense. Black Doom was promised the Ultimate Lifeform to be the vanguard of his race, and he'll get what's his. I do think Black Doom unlocking Shadow's new Doom powers will allow him to create a deeper connection with the hedgehog. Making it easier for him to mind control Shadow.

Holy shit! This looks so very painful for Shadow. Am I the only one getting Symbiote vibes from this? Given the many comparisons that have been made between Shadow and Venom.

Damn! Black Doom look good in the updated graphics! In the upper right-hand corner, you can see the biblical accurate form. A while back a person by the name of cr1ms0nesp3ra-ac3 made a comment saying that Black Doom could be trying to possess Shadow's body.

I replied that in the previous trailers, we saw Doom's Eye, but I later stated that this does not definitively prove Black Doom has returned physically. His mind could still be trapped within the Eye. Alternatively, the new moon form in the White Space could be the new vessel for his consciousness, rather than the Eye. We'll have to wait and see. For all we know he could actually be back with his body. The new information provided in this latest trailer has led me to no longer believe in the possibility of body possession.

Seeing the volcano erupt in the background of the Chaos Island stage is a cool detail. To anyone who played Sonic Frontiers would know that the volcano only erupts after Sonic beats the pinball machine. After seeing this part of the trailer, I like to think Future-Sonic is on Chaos Island right now playing the pinball machine while Shadow is traversing the island.

Definitely won't happen but it would be awesome to see Super Sonic vs The Knight fight from the distance. It was said the Shadow's story would have crossover moments. Not sure what that means.

These two images go hard. In the background is the Doom Moon and it looks different here than it does in the White World. The sight of Shadow flying toward that thing is giving off a redeemed Lucifer vibe. You know? It's a good thing Eggman doesn't know about this. Eggman has a track record of pissing on moons.

Mother fucking Mephiles!!!!? I was completely blown away by this reveal! Mephiles has been pretty much a no zone for future stories after 06. Mainly because Sonic 06's story was erased from the timeline meaning him along with Iblis don't exist anymore. However, we know the real reason why Mephiles never made a return till now. His debut game in the franchise was and still is the worst one that nearly killed it. So, we can't blame for SEGA never wanting to acknowledge him again. I do hope he's done justice in Shadow's story. I am curious if Shadow will remember him. It will end the debate if Sonic is the only one who remembers the events of 06.

Such a cool scene! Shadow being a badass is always a treat to watch. Though his red eyes are concerning. Does that mean he's closer to falling into Black Doom's control the more Doom Powers he gets and taps into?

Maria Robotnik in the White Space. I would not have believed you if you told me during the early years of Youtube that Maria would come back in a game. But here she is, pulled into the White Space where Shadow is. I hope the reunion between the two is well written, acted, and animated.

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

⋆ ₊☽˚𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼˚☾₊ ⋆ 

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : you and coryo had gone through hell and back, you've been together and far apart yet you could never find the courage to say how you truly feel for him. so, you wrote them into letter form, but you never sent them. and so what happens when one mr. snow finds each and every letter only to realize that it's too late?

𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 : written in letter form from the readers perspective, talks of jealousy and sad feelings, r is definitely from the capitol, self blame, kinda sorta depression, angst, deceit, suicide, coryo finally responds

𝓪/𝓷 : so here’s the grand finale! thank you all for all the support and love on this fic, i turly am so grateful for every single note, kudos, reblog, and comment (even if its just you telling me how i made you cry ; ) ) here we are! hope you enjoy!

𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽

⋆ ₊ ☽ ·˚𓍲⋆ 𝓮𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓮⋆𓍲˚· ☾ ₊ ⋆

To my Dearest Darling,

My love, my darling, words cannot describe the pain in my chest.

You can’t truly be gone. This must be some kind of hoax. I find that my eyes that you once called the most precious gems are filled with tears as I read the letter I received promptly after returning back from 12. 

I have many regrets my dearest, but my most haunting is you.

I can’t believe what a fool I have been, to have tossed you to the side when you have been there for me in a way that no one else can. 

Your family has invited me to your funeral, the audacity of those ingrates. They plundered your room, taking anything and everything. Which is how they happened upon your delicate box filled with tear stained letters.

All addressed to me.

The shock that overcame me as I heard straight from your bastard of a father had nearly killed me alone.

He had told me that you had thrown yourself off a bridge. Called you an ungrateful whore who didn’t do anything but take his money and take advantage of your family's good name.

I nearly jumped up from my seat and beat your father to death. How dare he call you names when every single dollar he ever gave you to keep you quiet lay in my drawer. How dare he call you an ungrateful whore for turning down an arranged marriage. And how dare he belittle you behind your cold back when I know I have hurt you like no other.

I have turned my back on you when you have been my greatest supporter, even greater than my own cousin. I have chosen another girl over you who has loved me since the very beginning, since we were young. I have cut you so deeply that you could not bear living anymore.

How could I?

Please my darling, you must know that I, there is no way I can atone for my sins, not that you are no longer here.

Please my darling, you must forgive me.

Please, please, please. 

Please forgive me for not writing to you all those years ago when we were young and caught in the middle of a war we had no part in. Please forgive me for not seeing you as the Angel you truly are.

Please forgive me for not noticing how you hurt for me, a man who is so undeserving of your compassion and empathy. 

Please forgive me for turning my back on you, even when I knew that you understood me like no other. Please forgive me for not hearing your pleas for me to wake up, for not thanking you for weeping over my sickly frame.

Please forgive me for not turning to you first, my loudest cheer when Lucy Gray was finally out of that arena. Please forgive me for not noticing how you were hurting, how you were aching, as I held you when I kissed you cheek tenderly. Please forgive me for not seeing your inner turmoil.

Please forgive me for not seeing how you loved me.

Please forgive me for becoming the very thing I hated. Please forgive me for giving into the temptation that was Lucy Gray. Please forgive me for not telling you, the one who’d never even breath about my deepest secrets to another, that I had been exiled.

Please forgive me for leaving you all by yourself in the large, large Capitol. Please forgive me for not even thinking about how you would feel all by yourself.

Please forgive me for not being there for you when Billius proposed to you. Please forgive me for not being there for you.

Please forgive me for not telling you the truth.

To be honest, it’s been eating up my insides. I wanted to tell you so badly. I regret it so much, I never even realized how much I would suffer, how much you would suffer, from my actions. 

Darling, please forgive me. Please forgive me. Darling, please forgive me for lying to you.

For not loving you like I have.

For not showing you how much I love you. 

Please, darling, forgive me.  

Wherever you are, please forgive me. 

Please, darling, forgive me.

Sweet Angel, my heart felt ripped out of my chest as I saw your delicate face in a coffin, skin cold and flushed pale. Your parents were as stone faced as usual, their eyes bone dry. 

Sweet Darling, I pray that you forgive me from the great beyond. I pray that you watch over me and guide me to become a person worthy of your love for as I am now, I am undeserving of your life, your tears, your love. 

My Dearest Darling, as I read all those letters and saw the tear stains that marred the paper, my heart ached for you, felt the unbearable pain that no number of sorrys and whiskeys can drown out. 

My Dearest Darling, I love you.

I am so sorry that I have been an ignorant fool who is unworthy of everything you ever gave me. 

I now know that I will never smile again, unless I smile with you.

Please wait for me my Darling.

Please forgive me,

Coryo