#anyway hi hello i am lurking again

[cosmicgraves]

hi does anyone else garden >.> flowers or veggies c: i'm getting started since we bought a house and idfk what i'm doing but i'd love to talk gardens with anyone ♥

[wntrswolf]

love mirage

✧ pair: benjicot "davos" blackwood (fancast) x freader!secret-lover-betrothed-to-a-bracken

✧ theme/warning(s): slight/implied smut, angst, forbidden romance, star-crossed lovers. — (all characters mentioned are of age!) 18+

✧ word count: 1.8k

✧ author's note: hello! this is my first writing! this one-shot was spontaneously written as it was meant more for self-indulgence but i thought why not share it to others who also has a current obsession with the rising blackwood character, right? :-) anyways, reading fics under the benji tags manifested many scenarios in my head, and gave me inspiration to write something. lastly, forgive me for any possible grammatical errors, i still am an amateur in fictional writing. enjoy!!!

It was the dead of night. The sky had been painted in its darkest hue, the moon stood nearly at its peak, offering its gentle glow along the riverbank. The distant chatter that could be heard during a long day's labor was no longer present, replaced by the solemn silence of nature's symphonies—the flowing river, the rustling of leaves as they danced in breaths of wind, and the lullabies of insects as they clicked and buzzed.

The forest was no stranger to you; befriending the woodland for the passing moons. You often wondered if anyone would, or had, grown an inkling of your periodic disappearance following the hours of supper—what others would think of your father’s only daughter growing a rather sudden interest beyond the walls of your family's stronghold. You always made your way out stealthily, though his words echoed in your mind,

“You are our only hope, daughter. Do not fail us.” A stark reminder of your duty, which would soon bring honor to your family's name.

If it means anything, you knew it was wrong from the start. You had never intended anything as such to happen. For the name of a nobleman was bound to yours, yet your lips would chant whispers of another.

Time became irrelevant right before you met him on this cool summer night. There the young man stood, one hand steady on the hilt of his dagger, ever vigilant should danger lurk in the tranquil embrace of the silent woods; his tense body relaxing upon the sight of your cloaked figure before him—a beacon of familiarity. You had planned to tell him about your betrothal tonight.

Although it was not much longer that you would find yourself a whimpering mess under the Blackwood boy. Your sighs mingled with the saccharine words Benjicot spoke, adding harmonies of moans and gasps of pleasure in the serenity of the haven you both made. You often feared getting caught but Benji assured you in these remote lands, he doubted anyone would be near enough to witness anything— not even the treacherous act you both selfishly indulged in. You still pray to the Gods that they grant you both the favor that no eye spies this clandestine meeting; and the many before.

You never really questioned yourself on why you couldn't confide in your father about your betrothal; had you already envisioned the conversation—mayhem would ensue. It was simple, it was the decision he made—securing your family's position through a marriage pact, a political alliance they called it. Duty, you thought yet again.

You didn't know what, or whom, to shift the blame on—or maybe it was the complexities of guilt. your guilt. You knew the inevitable, yet your selfishness, your greed, your immature desire for love; tainting your rationale. Or that maybe you should feel resentment that your father and the Lord of Stone Hedge, Humfrey Bracken regarded their relationship as close as to being kin. Maybe then you would have the strength to ignore your obligations, this once.

You cursed yourself for thinking the way you did, and you cursed the Gods for the decades-old rivarly between the ancient houses—a hatred and feud born long before either of you were born; beyond your father's time, and his father's before him, yet its roots grew, multiplying the petty divide among those that followed after them.

It made you question what started the war between the two in the first place, as sin begets sin begets sin; however, unwavering was the tryst between you and Benjicot—untouched by the strife and grudges.

He knew. You were aware of his knowledge with the woven webs you had with the Brackens; about your father's bond with the red stallion lord. Your thoughts do not come to a plausible explanation as they endlessly spun in your mind.

And all it took was Benjicot's hips to lower into yours, silencing these whirling thoughts.

Your cloak drapes over you, offering its warmth from the breaths of wind, coming from the riverbank. It spared the watchful eyes of the forest spirits from your unneeded bareness. At your side, Benjicot lays as he adjusts his breeches.

“There’s a war soon to come,” he says as he stares at the sky, hands behind his head, ”And I ought for you to know that given the growing wars, you have not left my mind since.” he nervously confessed.

You hum in response, the weight of his words settling heavily in the quiet of the forest. "I fear what lies ahead, Ben" you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur, filled with both longing and apprehension.

He turns to you then, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that spoke of unspoken promises and uncertainties. "No matter what comes, my love for you will endure." he vows, his fingers gently tracing the contour of your cheek.

You turn your head and sit up, feeling around for your discarded garments to dress.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, sitting up, his expression betraying confusion at your abrupt reaction. 

"No, it's not that." you breathed out, your back faced to him. It was this very moment you had feared since the first: the inevitable.

"Well, did you not finish as I had?" he ventured in jest, a playful side of him that you loved. "Or is it because I professed my love for you?", hoping his declaration had not caused you to pull away. "Trust me, I will make sure there's nothing—"

"My betrothal..." you did not let him finish, "it's to Aeron Bracken." you said, still facing away from him as you rose from the ground. You picked on your fingers picked in nervousness of his next response. The weight of your confession hung heavy in the air.

At first he thought he had not heard you clearly, as if the world had gotten awfully quiet. It was when you repeated once more, realizing his ears did not fail him as his blood got hot—of you saying the name whom ignited an unexplainable fury in him.

"Aeron Bracken," Benjicot repeated in disbelief of your sudden confession, "The Bracken twat, eh?" — the very same Bracken he encountered in fresh conflict, near the mill's boundary stones. Although he did not show it, the tension in the air was strong enough to burn and linger its flames; his knuckles turning pale as he clenched his fists at his side.

"A craven false king follower... is bound to your name, to you." he chuckles incredulously. 

He paced in the clearing, his footsteps heavy as he turned to you. "And what are you to do about it?" He posed the question, pain plain upon his face, though hope bled through the mask of his composure. Deep down, he already knew the answer. He could scare tell if asking you such question was to self-inflict torment, or just a desperate need to face the harsh reality of your confession— not a difference between the two really.

You finally turned to meet his gaze, "It's my father's decision," you explained softly. "I... I cannot defy it." You stood before him, as your tears glisten in the faint light. Torn between love and duty.

"Ben," you pleaded, your voice shaking. "You know the stakes. It’s my duty. My family's honor—” 

"Fuck honor!" he interrupted, his voice thundering through the forest. He strides towards you, "It was long gone the very moment we first met—" he huffed out. He knew in his heart that despite the love he developed towards you, the tangled web of your kinship with the Brackens would soon unravel the bond you shared— still, he gambled with the odds, just as you had.

He had ever hoped that the old Gods would bestow the blessing of his fervent wishes—that it would be you, not some other maiden, whom he would take to wife. He often dreamed of you bearing the heirs of his house, growing gray together, and watch as your blood flow through the veins that would carry on his legacy. Yet, it was only ever a distant dream.

You reached out to him, to calm the storm raging within him, but he jerked away. "Tell me, then," he challenged, stepping closer with fire in his eyes. "Where do your loyalties lie, beyond this," he motioned between the two of you. "Are you suggesting that your father, and even yourself, are to declare for the usurper cunt of a King?" he whisper-yells to you. “Or is this some sort of arrangement with those Bracken fucks, to get back at us Blackwoods, simply just using me as a pawn, 'cus you know I'm now Lord?" His words spitting at you like venom;

“Oh, you know where my loyalties lie," you spat, your voice filled with heartache, "But I won't stand for you questioning my integrity nor my family's honor to secure a future." You glared at him as your heart stung with hurt, "And to accuse me... I would not dare to commit something so heinous even if i could; I'm not cruel, Benji."

Benjicot's jaw clenched, shaking his head as he stood facing the river, incomprehensible words muttered under his breath.

"I never asked for this," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. "But I have responsibilities. We both do." you sniffled, swallowing the tension of your throat away, "And I know you know..." you wiped your tears, "we know... that this was bound to occur, sooner or later, Ben." your voice was barely audible, even with the deafening silence the forest came to be. "There's a war coming."

The silence hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken words and the weight of impossible choices.

Benjicot stood before you, his expression torn between love and anguish. His hands trembled as he gathered his scattered belongings, his movements reflecting the turmoil in his heart. You mirrored his actions, silently picking the remnants of what you felt is to be your last fleeting moment of happiness.

"I swear it," he finally spoke, "would that we were not bound by the enmity between our folks, I would have already vowed myself to you. Long before your father would have you promised to another."

His words pierced your heart with longing and regret, the bitter truth of your circumstances hanging between you like a veil of sorrow. “And I would have gladly accepted it,” you replied with a heavy sigh. "—my Lord."

The Blackwood male nodded, his gaze fixed on yours, filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. With a heavy heart, you both silently acknowledged the futility of your love.

Benjicot turned away first. The distance between you both grew; and his silhouette became one with the dark forest.

You knew that somewhere, amidst the pain and heartache, you would find a way to carry on—a life of uncertainty but fraught with duty. As you walked away from the happiness and love that the forest had given you, the ache in your chest spoke of a love that was lost but will never be forgotten. It would be a bittersweet reminder of what once was, and what could never be again.

[skzstannie]

Hii it’s okay if you can’t but I was wondering if you could do a skz x 9th member reader where she was in a car crash as well as the others? But she was badly injured as well and had to be looked after by chan because she wasn’t in good condition? Totally okay if you can’t thanks❤️

"You're awake!"

SKZ-> ot8 x 9th member!reader (Chan-centric)

genre: angst, hurt/comfort wc: ~3,200 cw: some cussing, car accident, reader and skz get hurt

summary: ^^ see request

A/N: Hello! Not super happy with how this came out, but I hope you still like it anon! Started a new semester, so updates will be less frequent, but I'll still be lurking in everyone's feed through likes and reblogs 👀

Masterlist | Happy Scrolling!

"I'm just saying, if penguin's could fly, I think they'd take over the world."

"Felix, literally what are you talking about?" you give him a strange look from where you're seated diagonal from him in the car.

"If penguins ever learned to fly, I think they'd try to overthrow the government in a vengeful fury."

You all sit in silence for a moment, trying to preserve the last of your braincells from deteriorating.

"Okay..." Seungmin responds, quirking his eyebrow at him.

"I am so excited for tonight!" you break the silence that settles, practically vibrating in your seat from the excitement.

"We know, you haven't stopped talking about it," Minho boredly comments, his phone lighting up his face from the shadowy back seat.

Jeongin throws an elbow in his side from where he's seated beside him, earning himself a nasty glare from the man. "Don't be mean to Ynnie, she's just excited to perform."

"I'm so sorry. Let me rephrase that," he clears his throat, setting his phone down in his lap, "Oh my gosh, I know! It's all you've talked about since this morning!" he squeaks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," you mumble, rolling your eyes at your grumpy member.

Before Minho has the chance to respond, your entire world is shaken when another car T-bones you from the right.

Time seems to slow down as the car is flipped, sending you out of your seat towards the ceiling of the car. Your seatbelt manages to control some of the damage to your head, but it slices into your neck from the pressure. Blood starts to drip out of your wound, but you don't even feel it as your hazy gaze travels over to your members.

Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes land on Felix's still body in the back seat, his eyelids draped shut. He doesn't appear to have any other injuries, but you're immediately ripped away from the sight of Felix when you hear Minho groan in pain. You Jeongin a quick once over, and upon seeing no visible injuries, keep your eyes moving. You don't miss the way Jeongin's hands are firmly grasped around Felix's forearm as he shakes the older man, trying to wake him.

It's painful to twist in your seat, but you do so anyway. Catching a glimpse of Minho, you see a jagged piece of glass protruding out of his forearm. It appears small, but you know it must still hurt like a bitch. Other than that he looks okay, so you continue to look over your remaining members. His eyes are panicked as he frantically looks over the four of you. "You guys ok?" his voice shakes with fear, and his teeth are clenched from the pain radiating from the glass in his arm.

The ringing in your ears starts to subside a bit, and the grunts coming from your right get louder. Seungmin's arm is twisted at an unnatural angle, and there's blood dripping from his left eyebrow. You can't bring yourself to answer Minho, the shock still clouding your mind.

As the rest of your senses start to come back to you, your focus remains on Seungmin as he huffs in pain. You feel a stinging sensation in your thigh, but as you slowly start to drop your head to look, you feel a shaky finger reach under your chin.

Seungmin's reached his hand out, gently pulling your chin until your eyes meet his again.

"Just keep looking at me, Yn," he whispers. You do as you're told, but the pain is worsening by the second, and your breathing starts to quicken.

All else is tuned out as your eyes remain on Seungmin's unwavering gaze.

Seconds feel like hours as you sit there in the car. Your eyelids start to become heavy, and you fuzzily catch Seungmin's eyes turn frantic as your blinks become slower and more frequent.

"Just keep your eyes open, don't fall asleep," he repeats. His word are gentle at first, but as your mind turns to mud, his voice becomes louder and urgent, almost screaming at you. You feel a rough hand grab your shoulder from behind, shaking you. Their attempts to keep you awake are futile, though, as everything becomes too much for you to handle.

"No, don't close your eyes! Stay with me!" and that's the last thing you hear before you drift off into the darkness.

~ ~ ~

You're awoken to the sound of quiet repetitive beeping.

Opening your eyes is a task all in itself, your eyelids feeling impossibly heavy.

After a moment of struggle, you're met with the bright light from a window to your right. You slowly turn your head to the side, and you see Hyunjin, Chan, and Changbin all perched on the couch. It looks uncomfortable, the way all three of them are scrunched up on the little loveseat.

You let your gaze linger on them for a moment, their presence providing a calming sensation for your jumbled mind.

Suddenly, your surroundings overwhelm you. You become terribly aware of all the wires connected to you. The ECG stickers become your biggest enemy, and the IV sticking out of your hand makes you angry.

Really angry.

You groan when you try to lift your arm, a sharp, shooting pain radiating down from your shoulder. You push through the pain though, urgent to remove all these wires from your body. The bandages littering your body feel as if they're burning your skin, and you've never needed to get something off of you faster.

You begin to peel the bandages from your arms, the pain from the adhesive no match for the pain you had been feeling previous to their removal.

Your agonistic groans manage to wake Changbin, and he panics when he sees you frantically tearing at your ECG stickers.

He jumps up from the couch, earning a yelp from Hyunjin as he was using Changbin as a pillow.

You're too overwhelmed to care about their actions as you continue to tear at your skin, even the blankets covering your body feeling like burning coals on your skin.

"Woah, what are you doing? You can't take those off yet," Changbin tells you, rushing to your side to try and restrain your arms.

"They're hurting me," you mumble, wretching your arms out of Changbin's grip to continue to pull at everything that touches you.

"Yn," Hyunjin gasps, quickly standing to his feet, running over to help Changbin.

Chan awakens from the commotion, alarm bells immediately sounding in his head when he sees your panicked movements.

You become more frantic when Hyunjin grabs one of your arms from Changbin, rendering you immobile.

"Get off!" you screech, yanking on your arms as hard as you can. Chan quickly runs out of the room in search of any healthcare professional he can find.

"You're gonna hurt yourself," Hyunjin struggles against you, holding tightly onto your hand.

"Let me go!" you continue to scream like a banshee, "You're hurting me!"

Neither do as you say, fearing for what you'll do to yourself if they listen.

"You're ok," Changbin pleads, bringing one of his hands away from your arm to rest it gently on your forehead. "Please calm down, everything will be ok."

You're too panicked to notice Chan re-enter the room, a nurse trailing in behind him.

She has a shot in her hand, and she hurriedly comes up beside Changbin to administer the drug. She hastily inserts the needle into your upper arm, and it only takes seconds for your demeanor to soften. Your thrashing becomes weaker, and your shouts become quieter, turning into soft mumbles.

The guys let out a sigh upon seeing your eyes close, your stature finally relaxing into the hospital bed once again.

"What the hell was that?" Hyunjin huffs, slightly out of breath from the physical altercation.

"Sometimes patients can be violent when they wake up out of a coma. It can happen to anyone," the nurse explains, taking the chart off the wall beside the bed. "We'll get some soft restraints to put on her arms before she wakes up again. It's unlikely for her to panic again, but it's just a precaution."

The guys nod, all three of them staring at your now peaceful face.

~ ~ ~

The next time you wake up, you feel as if you're experiencing deja vu. Your eyes open slowly, and you wince at the feeling of them being crusted over from sleep.

You also become strikingly aware of the aching pain radiating from your thigh. Your leg remains immobile, and you feel the constricting cast running from your mid thigh down to your ankle.

You go to bring your hand up to rub your face, but your movements are restricted. Your attention is brought to your hands, now laying limply by your side. There are restraints covering your wrists. Your face contorts into an expression of confusion, and you glance at the couch to your right.

Seated there are Chan, Hyunjin, and Changbin. Your deja vu hits you harder when you see them resting against one another, sleeping soundly.

"Chan," you call out to him, your voice surprisingly hoarse, your throat scratchy and raw.

He immediately jolts up, waking the other two in the process.

"Hey, you're awake," he says, getting up from the couch.

He's cautious as he walks over to you, taking slow steps to get to your bed. Changbin and Hyunjin watch from the couch, keeping their distance. Their expressions rival Chan's, somehow looking even more timid.

"Hi," you suddenly feel shy under their gazes, "Why are you looking at me like that? I can't even move; can we get these things off of me."

"Yea, sorry, the nurse said it was just precautionary. I'll go get someone to take them off of you," Hyunjin gets up from the couch, hurrying out into the hallway.

Realization dawns on you, and you bring your eyes to meet Chan's again. "Did I hurt someone? What happened?"

"You were trying to hurt yourself," a nurse enters the room, answering the question for Chan. "You were in a coma for a couple days. Sometimes, when patients wake, they can turn aggressive. Which you did, but nobody was hurt, the boys stopped you before you could do any damage."

You just nod, not entirely sure how to respond. She explains in more detail what had happened as she takes the restraints off your wrists.

"We had to sedate you, so you were out for an additional day. On the bright side, your coma allowed for your body to do some of the tough healing while you were unconscious. You had a surgery on your thigh the night you were brought in due to a compound fracture in your femur. The surgery was successful. It seems to be doing well for now, of course we'll have to bring you back in for some check-ups, but you should be good to go for now."

Your eyes widen as she goes on and on. Chan sits beside you, rubbing a hand up and down your back to help comfort you. The nurse continues about the paperwork, and leaves to gather it so you can leave.

"How are you feeling?" Changbin asks from the end of your bed.

"Overwhelmed," you answer curtly. The thought of not being able to perform for a while hurts your heart. Not only that, but you can't even walk!

Your suddenly hit with a wave of memories from the night of the accident, and your eyes water at the thought of the rest of your members who were in the car with you.

"Are the other guys alright? Where are they?" your voice is panicked as you ramble off questions.

"They're ok, we promise," Chan reassures you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "They went home a couple days ago to rest. None of them got hurt as badly as you did. They all got some stitches, Seungmin's got a broken arm, and Felix has a pretty nasty concussion, but they're ok."

You sigh in relief, allowing your head to rest on Chan's shoulder.

The nurse comes back in, a folder filled with paperwork in hand. "As soon as you fill these out, you'll be good to go! Your medications and dosages are in this little baggy. You had some lacerations on your side, but we just covered them with butterfly bandages. The stitches on your neck can be taken out at your next appointment. Just be weary of them as you go about your day, try not to turn your head too quickly," she instructs, handing over the paperwork.

Within a few minutes, everything is filled out and you've been put in a wheelchair. Chan stands behind you, wheeling you out towards the van. Hyunjin carries your crutches from beside you, and Changbin holds your medicine and the paperwork.

Getting in the car was a hassle all in itself, as your leg felt like a million pounds with the cast on it. Your hip was so sore from laying in bed for so long, so you opted to have Chan lift you into the car.

Once finally settled, you lean back against the seat and close your eyes. You don't want to admit it, but you know these next few months are going to be difficult.

~ ~ ~

It's been a few weeks now, and things have started to go back to how they were before the accident. This is the first regularly scheduled week since then, and you're grateful for the normalcy.

Your managers had put everything on hold for a while, allowing you and the rest of your members to recover some. They knew it was a difficult time for all of you, and you were thankful for their leniency.

You have been spending most of your time on the downstairs couch, lounging around in front of the T.V. Various members would join you throughout the day, helping you with whatever you needed. Chan has certainly been the most doting, running at your every beck and call.

Today was no different; Chan decided to stay home with you while the rest of the members went to dance practice. He knew it'd probably put him behind, but they weren't set to perform for a good while, so he'll just catch up a different day. Plus, he knows Minho can handle them all just fine without him there.

The two of you are lounging on the couch, watching one of your favorite T.V shows, when Chan gets up to use the bathroom.

You hear the door close, and realize now's your chance. Your stomach's been growling for the past hour, but you didn't want to make Chan make you something.

However, you are done being the world's longest lounging couch potato, so you rise to your feet, grabbing your crutches from beside you, and make your way into the kitchen.

You know you don't have long before Chan finds you, so you ravage through the fridge quickly to try and find something to eat. You see your leftovers from the other night neatly packed away, so you grab those.

You carefully set your crutches down, leaning them on the counter next to you before hopping, leftovers in hand, to the microwave.

Unfortunately, the rug in front of the sink slips beneath you, and you fall onto the ground, your leftovers opening and spilling out onto you.

"Oh for fuck's sake," you sigh. Thankfully, you're not hurt, your butt just a little sore, but some of the sauce now decorates your cast.

You hear the door fling open from down the hall, and a frantic Chan bursts into the kitchen a mere second later. "What are you doing?" he's panicked as he rushes over to you, his arms looping under yours to pull you up.

"I was just going to heat these up because I was hungry, but then I slipped. I'm fine," you lightly push Chan away from you, knowing fully well that you can stand on your own.

He looks slightly taken back by your attitude, but nevertheless moves towards you again. He wraps his arms around you in an attempt to pick you up, no doubt to carry you back into your permanent spot on the living room couch, but you give him a firmer shove this time. "Did I hurt you?" he worries, his eyebrows scrunching.

"No, I just want to walk to the bathroom myself and get cleaned up," you explain, doing your best to keep your composure.

"I can help, let me grab you a wash rag for your cast," he bends down next to you, rummaging through the cupboard.

"Chan, please," you sigh. As much as you loved being babied at first, enough is enough. "I need some time by myself. I love you guys, but I'm not sure I've had a moment alone since the accident." Your arms are crossed as he stands, a pout forming on his face.

"But we just want to help you," he says, puppy-dog eyes on full display.

"And I thank you for all you guys have done the past month, but I really need to start doing things for myself again," you reach past him, grabbing your crutches and head down the hall to your bathroom. "Now to get this sauce off me," you mumble as you push the door open with the end of your crutch.

~ ~ ~

You're laying on your bed later in the day, knee propped up on a plump pillow to help alleviate some of the pain from your aching leg, when you hear a knock on door.

You tell them to come in, and the door opens to reveal Chan. "Hi," he's timid as he walks in. He takes a seat on the edge of your bed, a guilty look on his face.

"What's up?" you ask, sliding your bookmark into the crease of your novel.

"I wanted to apologize on behalf of all of us. We've been really clingy since the accident, and we didn't realize we were overstepping."

"Chan," you sigh, adjusting yourself to sit next to him. "Please don't beat yourself up about this. Honestly, I was just a little frustrated earlier and took it out on you. You guys have helped me more than you know these last few weeks. I really don't mind all the doting."

His eyes light up at that. "Really?" his voice is giddy, and you regret that you were the cause of his sadness before.

While the overprotectiveness really did get on your nerves a bit, if it brings them that much happiness to take care of you, you suppose you can get past your grumpiness and let them do it.

"Really."

"Guys, she changed her mind!" he yells, and not even a second later, your door swings open, seven smiling faces staring back at you.

They hurry into your room, clumsily fighting each other to sit on your bed. They're still cautious of your leg, but they all manage to fit, even if a little squished.

"Don't make me regret this," you joke, ruffling Seungmin's hair from where he's laid out on your lap.

"You know you love us," Chan comments, smirking at you.

"I certainly do."

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 4k

summary: after finding him wounded in an empty alleyway, against your better judgment, you decide to patch him up in your apartment. you expect that to be the end of it, never to see him again, that is, until you do.

warnings: piv, rough sex, dirty talking, biting, claws make a brief appearance, mild degradation (he calls you slut once), mention of female masturbation

You live in a world without heroes. Yet, the villains roam free. 

You’re used to it by now, walking through the damp alleyways. You hear a shout here and there, always keeping your head bowed as you walk past whatever might be going on. Once upon a time, this bothered you. But after a knife to your stomach and a punch to the cheek, you learned to look the other way around, no matter how painful it might be. Sometimes you find yourself wondering why this might be. You always assumed some type of ying yang situation should be in place, making everything right, but you seem to be living in a world without good. Without light.  

You don’t know what prompts you to do it. You’re walking back from work, the scent of rain and the stench of exhaust thick in the air. All you want to do is get to your cramped apartment before the downpour. 

You think it’s the wind that makes you turn your head, you hate when your eyes water and dry out. When you do turn, you stare into the familiar abyss of the alleyway behind your apartment. It’s truly pitch black. Despite the darkness, you see a faint movement in shadows, a loud sound, a crash. You see a flash of red, blue. Your eyes narrow—what the? 

You know well that you shouldn’t, that whatever was lurking in the shadows would be bad news, but you do it anyway. With a grunt, you open the flashlight of your phone and take a step closer. There’s a man laying on the cold ground, he doesn’t seem to be moving. 

“Hello?” you call out. No answer. “Um, are you drunk or high? Should I call an ambulance?” 

The broad figure groans and your heart nearly lurches. “No,” he mumbles. “No doctors.” 

With a slight tremor in your step, you come closer. You shine the light into his face, his brows furrow, an annoyed scowl etching into his handsome features. Your lips part with a soft exhale. He’s so handsome. 

Then you get a good look at the rest of him—what the hell is he wearing? 

“Do you need help?” you ask, unsure. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding, his eye looks a bit swollen though. Wait, scratch that, you think you spot some blood on his lips. “Should I get you anything?” 

Maybe you sound foolish, but you know better than to just call 911 for a random person. Everyone is a criminal these days. Fuck, if he was a criminal you should call the cops, this city is seriously starting to cloud your better judgment. 

“No cops,” he chokes and coughs, as if he can read your thoughts. “Go away, I’ll be fine.” 

No, he won’t. 

He knows it. You know it. 

“I live right next door,” you answer against your better judgment. “I have a first aid kit. I can patch you up if you want? I don’t wanna brag, but I am a nurse in training.” 

He makes a sound that is similar to a chuckle but the sound quickly fades into a vicious cough. You tuck the phone into your pocket and lean over, “Alright big guy, you’re coming with me,” you attempt to throw his arm over your shoulder but that proves to be more difficult. “Can you stand? Even a little.”

He nods and straightens up a bit. You’re still carrying most of his weight but you manage to get him past the door and onto your couch. 

You must’ve thrown him a little too hard because he lets out a loud grunt, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle the sound. 

“Sorry,” you mutter. “Just wait for me here, I’ll come back with water and the first aid kit.” 

The man makes another sound. You’re starting to think this is his only form of communication. 

When you come back, he’s still where you left him. Albeit looking a bit more alert now, eyes constantly scanning your humble apartment. You can’t really blame him though, you would do the same thing. You eye him warily, then place the glass of water on the coffee table. He glares at it like it’s poison. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” 

He scoffs, “I don’t think you could even if you tried,” he answers, tongue moving over his bloody bottom lip. He points at the table. “And there’s a coaster right there.” 

“Who are you, my mother?” 

Despite your sharp tone, you place the glass on the coaster and sit on the coffee table, the small first aid kit in hand. “Does that thing have a zipper, or. . . ?” 

His right brow and lip cock up simultaneously. You’re acutely aware that no matter what you do, you’ll never be able to understand what’s going on in that head of his—Not that you want to. He’s a stranger. A man that looks strong enough to hold you by the neck before you can reach the pepper spray nestled in your bag. 

The silence makes you uneasy, and when you finally open your mouth to speak, he leans forward. “Don’t freak out,” he grunts. 

“Why would I freak out—” The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, his suit glitches—glitches—like a damn video game. It blinks once, twice and you swear you can see little particles glimmering on his skin, fading away from reality. Panic flaring in your gut, you look down. 

Pants still on. And here your thought that the entire thing was a one-piece suit. 

“I said don’t freak out,” he repeats, eyebrow raised and head tilted to the side. You snap your mouth shut. 

“I’m not freaking out,” you say, voice shrill. “Who’s freaking out? Not me.” 

His shoulders are broad, arms muscular with thick veins meandering down. You’ve never been a fan of veins popping out but whoever this man was made it look good. You swallow over and over in a weak attempt to wet the inside of your mouth. You fail helplessly. You’re not even aware that you’re holding the first aid kit with an iron grip, knuckles aching from the pressure. His torso is completely bare now.

“I don’t have a zipper,” he says unhelpfully, unaware of you behaving straight out of a 1950s cartoon. 

“I can see that.” 

God, he is the weirdest stray you ever brought over. 

He points at the box, “So do you actually know how to use what’s inside or were you just bluffing when you said you were a nurse?” 

“A nurse in training,” you quip. “And no, I wasn’t bluffing.” 

With great strength, you finally drag your eyes down his torso. There’s a splatter of blood, some of the drops rubbed into his skin and the crimson trail is followed up by a giant slash across his stomach. The bleeding had stopped which was a good sign. You lean closer, your fingers fiddling with the box at the same time, narrowing your gaze you notice the wound is deeper than you had initially thought. 

“Whoever it was that attacked you got you good,” you murmur. Without a second thought, you slide off the coffee table and kneel in front of him, you miss the glint in his eyes as he looks down, miss the way he spreads his legs so you can fit better. 

“How do you know it wasn’t me who attacked them?” 

The rough tone of his voice prompts you to look up. For someone who’s been stabbed, he’s eerily calm. His arms are spread over the backrest, chest slowly rising up and down as his eyes flit across your face, searching. The muscle in his jaw twitches, lips stretching into something resembling a snarl. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are, the position you’re in. The sound of danger rings in your ears—you don’t even know this man’s name. Your breath catches in your throat, stomach jumping. You don’t know why you initially felt so comfortable with him, as if you were long-lost friends, but you aren’t. You were being reckless. 

“Scared?” he asks, venomous, hunching over your frame, caging you in. Heat radiates from his thighs, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping your insides. He hooks two fingers under your chin, lifts your head up. Your bottom lip quivers. “You should be. You live in a dangerous world.”

“And you don’t?” you counter, your voice barely above a whisper, your words hanging in the air, challenging his assertion. The question slips out before you can fully comprehend its weight, and you see his jaw tighten as he ponders for an answer.

You meticulously cleanse the wound, removing dirt and debris with steady hands. The sting of antiseptic fills the air, intermingling with the charged atmosphere. You’re not shy with the way you touch him, a simmering annoyance warming your gut. He can take it, you think applying further pressure. He doesn’t make a sound. 

The dim light of the room accentuates the harsh contours of his face, and his piercing gaze feels like it's cutting through your soul. You drag your teth against the smooth surface of the inside of your cheek. You’ve never had a patient stand this still. 

Finally, just as you complete the final wrap of the bandage, he gives you an answer. 

“Not the same one as you do.”

Miguel O’hara was his name. He told you just before disappearing into the neon lights of the dark and cold city. You didn’t think much of it, you were sure you wouldn’t be seeing him again, which meant remembering his name was useless.

But your mind wouldn’t let him go. You tasted his name in the dark hours of the night, hand between your legs, coming as you thought of scenarios where instead of dousing his wound in antiseptic, you took his cock into his mouth, helping him in a different way. His suit left little to the imagination and now that your imagination roamed free, you’re glad that it was. 

Convinced that he’ll never show up again, you continue on normally, half in fear due to the chaos around you, trying to do your best. 

That was until he did show up. 

You step out of the shower, water trickling down your skin, softened by the warm steam. The towel hangs loosely around your chest, on the verge of slipping off. You never quite mastered the art of securing it tightly, but living alone means you don't have to worry about walking around naked if it happens to fall off.

The window cracks open, cold air seeping through, chilling your freshly warmed body. Tension instantly builds in your body, your eyes slowly moving to the window. You see him then. Miguel. He pushes the window open and climbs in, not saying a word. You hold the towel tightly around you—a dream, you think, it has to be. 

With quick, large steps, he crowds your space, forcing your back against the wall. The air is knocked from your lungs, your throat convulsing with a sudden panic. He’s not touching you. 

“M-Miguel,” you whisper. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I would see you again.” 

“Neither did I,” he answers, large hands cupping your waist and pinning you to the wall. “I’m tired,” he adds, words dropping from his lips more like a punch than a plea. Like someone is squeezing the words out of him. 

“What do you need?” 

His eyes drop to your lips, a hungry gaze that sends shivers up your spine. You hold your breath. He’s so close, close enough that you feel his breath on your damp skin. He tilts his head to the side, eyes closing. 

“I need to not think,” he answers painfully slow, tasting every word. “I need to not feel. I need to not worry. I need to disappear for a while.” 

Miguel takes a long, languid breath. Filling his lungs with the scent of your watermelon body wash. His tongue pokes from between his lips, moving over the bottom one. “Can you give me that?” 

His fingers tighten, the soft fabric of your towel bunching in his palm, you swear you feel the bite of nails despite the fluffy exterior. Your eyes search his. You know nothing of him. Only his name that he’d begrudgingly given you. Your pulse quickens, the rush of blood loud in your ears. He’s not here for you, that’s something you need to keep in mind before going any further. He’s here for the release, for the simple act of having another’s warmth surrounding him. You’re an escape. Something simple and easy he doesn’t have to think about when he runs off to deal with whatever he deals with. 

After seconds that feel like hours, you decide you want to give that to him. You don’t mind the hurt you’ll feel after. Letting him take what he wants knowing that’ll affect you more than him. Something about him makes you not care. 

“I can,” you breathe, instinctively searching for his lips with your own. “Do your worst Miguel O’hara.” 

You drop the towel, damp fabric pooling at your ankles. His eyes widen briefly before smiling something wicked. His forehead touches yours, nose brushing your own as his lips ghost an inch away. Your breath catches in your throat, the need growing between your legs. A chuckle drops from his lips reminding you of gravel. You don’t share his humor, you just want to feel him. 

“You don’t want my worst,” he grunts. “You’ll break.” 

“I won’t.” 

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. Miguel doesn’t attempt to probe you wrong, breaking things is meant to have consequences. You either try to fix it or ponder over what you’ve done, he wants none of that. Instead, he presses flush against you, body firm in contrast with the soft swell of your chest and stomach. Your nipples tighten. He crashes into you, tongue hungrily slipping between your lips as his mouth moves greedily.  You feel hands on your chest, kneading, squeezing, pinching. You moan into his mouth, he swallows the sounds, grinding himself hard into you. You’re shaking, his body suffocating. 

“If I touch you,” he says into your mouth, fingers skimming the outside of your thighs. “Will you be soaked for me?”  With a whimper, you nod. He grins, canines looking sharper compared to what they did before, “Such a good little slut,” he growls. 

Contrary to what he’d said, he doesn’t slip his fingers between your legs to see if you’re telling the truth. Instead, he slots his thick thigh between your bare legs, pushing the muscle up until you’re left gasping, your hands flailing as you wrap them around his broad shoulders. The pressure makes you dizzy, the fabric of his suit softer than what you expected, a delicious friction over your aching clit. You moan openly into his neck, teeth scraping against the vein. 

“I’m going to fuck you like this,” he murmurs. “Up against the wall,” his suit fades away, cock hard against the soft planes of your stomach. You shudder as precome smears over the skin. He continues, licking your lips. “Then up against the window, want you to be loud. Want you to scream and tell me to take. . .” 

The emphasis on the “t” sends a million tiny needles biting into your skin. Your chest heaves with the brush of his lips, you want to feel it again, the plush feeling of faux softness on your mouth. But he doesn’t give you that. He smiles a cruel smile, one that chills your skin but lights a fire in the pit of your stomach. He tilts his head. 

“And take. . .” 

You chase his lips, he refuses to give you what you want. 

“And take. . .” 

Your frustration grows, a desperate sound twists through you, and your fingers curl around his neck, knitting through his hair as you give the curls a warning tug. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the slightest. He drags his lips down your neck, hitches your one thigh up his hip, and positions his length against you. He doesn’t look at you, nor say another word. He fills you with one hard thrust, knocking you back against the wall, your body sliding up the rough interior. The stretch of him lingers on the line of being painful. There’s a bite to it, but also a deep pleasure that makes your legs shake. 

“So fucking wet,” he rasps, sinking his teeth into your neck. It feels sharp enough that you think he breaks the skin, blood filling his mouth, but that’s not the case. The feeling quickly passes when his mouth crashes into yours in a messy kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, he doesn’t care. He takes what you give him and he does so violently, splitting you into two with every thrust. 

He grabs handfuls of your hips, lifting you off the wall before slamming you back down with renewed fervor. He angles each thrust to the point of almost pain. You cry out, a long, desperate noise that almost drowns out his own, panting gruffly. You can feel the heat in your veins coursing through you as pleasure builds, the almost unbearable sensation sending you into overload. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his skin as his name leaves your lips in a plea for him to not stop. His hands grip you tighter as his movements become more violent, eyes locked together as they both reach the brink of ecstasy. 

The look in his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the parting of his lips, the damp curls at the base of his scalp—it does something indescribable to you. You arch your back to give more for him. All your focus narrowing on the feeling of him. 

Suddenly your body strains as he stills, the thunderous rumbling of your orgasm hitting you full force as you feel yourself tighten around his shaft in an attempt to prolong the blissful pleasure. His grip slackens and you fall forward against him, boneless as you feel the last throes of your orgasm lingering in your veins. You lick the salt off his skin, your body grinding sloppily against him. 

“Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, still achingly hard inside of you. “Already?” 

“I—I never came that quick before. . .” you answer with a slight slur of speech, you’re tingling all over. 

You’re not sure but you think you see a hint of pride in those dark smug eyes, “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he says. “You’re mine until the sun comes up.” 

Miguel is a man of his word. 

He fucks you up against the window, just like he said. Your breasts pressed up against the cold smooth surface as he takes you from behind. It burns. It burns yet you can only beg for more. You scream his name, fog up the window, the rough drag of his cock forcing the roll of your eyes every goddamn time. The feeling of being stretched wide never passes, each thrust like the first time. 

He holds you by the nape, pushes you forward, the pressure only adding to the fire. You figure out soon he likes holding you like that. He enjoys shoving you up against things, adding to the idea that you’re just a fleeting moment and nothing more. When he pulls out you instinctively search for him with your hips. His cock lays heavy over the curve of your ass, he spreads you and presses his cock between the globes, rocking until thick ropes of come land on your back. You shudder, breathless, your vocabulary reduced to only his name. 

You feel a grip on your chin and he turns you enough so that he can slot his lips against yours. Your neck aches but your part for him anyway, allowing the taste of him to flood all your senses. When he parts only a string of saliva connects you, your breathing coming  in heavy pants. 

A second later the world around you blurs and you quickly find yourself straddling him above the bed. The old furniture creaking in protest. You forget how nervous you would be if it were someone else, how self-conscience you would be riding a man but Miguel doesn’t give you a chance to think about it. His feet planted firmly on the bedding, he snaps his hips, burying himself deep into the tight fist of your cunt, over and over, until you’re stupid for him. 

His name rips from your throat, you can’t even think of saying anything else. You attempt to muffle yourself with the back of your hand but he’s quick to yank it back down. 

“No” he utters a low, guttural sound, hands coming up your back. “I said I wanted you to scream.” 

He sounds unhinged, like something snapped inside of him. You feel teeth on your collarbone, nails dragging down your back, sharp, leaving long lines of irritated skin. A pleasurable pain blossoming over your skin. 

You begin to unravel as you thrust your hips against him, his movements setting off white-hot sparks of pleasure like incandescent lightning. Moans rush from your lips as his name is repeated in a mantra and you cling to him desperately, your hands clawing at his back and your nails digging into his skin as you spiral ever faster into oblivion.

Miguel is relentless in the way he drives into you. You can feel him swell inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hands to your hips, pushing and grinding against you as every muscle in his body strains. 

His breathing is quick and harsh against your ear, his voice a hungry growl, “That’s it, take it. You were waiting for this, weren’t you? Hungry for a cock no matter who it belongs to.”  

You can’t answer. 

Miguel’s hips thrust harder, faster—his orgasm crashes through him, his hands gripping your hips painfully as he spills his hot seed deep within you. You find yourself trembling as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you, your body feeling like electricity as you come down from the high. You clench tightly around him, your own overwhelming orgasm ripping through you, overstimulation making you cry out. 

He spins you both, bringing you to lay underneath him. Miguel collapses against you, breathing heavy as his grip on you slowly relaxes. He holds you for a moment, your heart thrumming as his forehead briefly rests against yours, breaths mingling. Then, with a satisfied groan, he pulls away. You let out a hiss. It feels achingly empty. 

You’re surprised when he starts pushing your legs apart, watching his spend trickling down your folds and making a mess on the sheets. He pushes globs of cum back into you with thick fingers. Your head falls, back arching into his touch. “You made such a mess,” he says, sounding almost transfixed. Cramming fingers inside of you and curling them, your body seizes. 

After that, you’re not sure when he leaves. Sleep takes you and when you wake, he’s gone. No note, no message left behind. The only evidence that he was here is the ache between your legs, and the taces of him still lingering on your thighs. 

You’re sure you won’t be seeing him again. He got what he came for. 

The next night he’s back, climbing through the window for more. 

[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince; Betas and Sketches!

Hello! been a bit since ive done a sketch dump, but it isnt just a sketch dump, it's an announcement!

As @mewhoismyself and I work on the fic, we need an active set of beta readers! The two we have our wonderful, but to keep with the schedule, we need some extra hands and fresh eyes!

Hence, beta readers are once again open!

I am looking for two betas who are experienced in writing, and who are active to give their insights and feedback! currently, i am writing chapter 17, but while i do that, i'd need the feedback as soon as i can get it so i can prepare it for the chapter release dates. shoot a comment down below so i can check your account!

anyway, here's some doodles <3

ONE OF THESE IMAGES BELOW HAVE BLOOD. I AM WARNING YOU NOW.

first off, here's a joke made by a friend :> martyn is scott's babygirl, boom, its canon-

starting off, here's some silhouettes for the other princes ;D I can't reveal them, otherwise the surprise would be ruined! they're all based on different sea creatures, but they are just as scary as Prince Pearl and Prince Chromia. theres other designs i have to get to, but this is a sneak peak of the other terrors lurking in the dark.

speaking of, I got a fun doodle of em <3 the good thing about eating underwater is that they won't get all messy, but there are those times where an audience might watch them eat, they're messy eaters!

these two are pretty, but i really wanted to push their freakier, scarier sea prince sides! more slight changes, but they're both quite fun to draw! their contrasting designs are so much fun to draw together, i love these sillies! oh- and here's a bloodless version!

i absolutely LOVE my sea prince designs, scott and pearl just itch me the right way.

and before i pop off, here's some concept designs for joey and sausage, along with fwhip and gem! since gem is officially a lifer, i think her role in the story might be a bit more focused on, who knows!

wanted to make sure sausage didn't look like his pirates look :0c this au was originally before pirates smp, so i wanted to differentiate them somehow, so i pulled a lot from their empires' attire and see what works! what do you think?

finally, we have the cover art board! im planning to put this all in my pinned post the moment all the covers drop, but goodness, those eyes sure are pretty!

what do you think of the au so far? enjoying it? i hope you are! this au is such a blast <3

[cryptidghostgirl]

Hello hi- back to my shenanigans again (the one with the fake dating + lobby portal + frozen half the pentagram surely not an OC ahahah anonymous asker) - anyway- heres some MORE angst.

Reader's past lover- died waaay before reader back in their teens because readers mother found out about their not so heterosexual relationship and decided to shoot them both but only killed one- reader escaping and killing her mom in return (let’s name her Charlotte- with mane wolf features- so wolf+fox+deer features a combination! ) and barely moved on after meeting Alastor like years later, yet still haunted by Charlottes dead eyes reader saw when she woke up from some sleepy poison. Now Charlotte is in heaven and reader in hell alongside their radio-lover lover!

Yet somehow- maybe though a very uncanonical accurate meeting where angels go down to see the new hotel after hearing sinners can get redeemed Charlotte (not to be confused with Charlie) is one of said angels and suddenly all those waves of emotions come rushing back and reader can do nothing but stare.

but oh wait! Angels/Winner dont remember their past life so reader goes to her- and shes just “Oh hello! Whats your name? :3” (shes an angel and loves the stars and plants and everything nice can do no wrong) “I-… I guess you dont know me in this lifetime” (AND DOESNT TELL HER THEYVE MET BEFORE because what good would that bring?)

But alastor is also there lurking in the back. watching them- he knew someone was in readers life before him but reader never said more than that. Will readers feelings for Charlotte come back? Will reader stay to the infatuation of murderous acts that Alastor bought them? Will reader choose the pure love that might not spring again?

The infamous blizzard demon overlord! that never dropped their mask around others that always seemed to have the upper hand in any situation, the cold- charismatic- brutal and ruthless overlord- suddenly speechless at the reappearance of someone they used to know. How will everyone react?! “Sweet as a pea, but sharp as a knife- now shocked like the stars have fallen”

GAAAH MY BRAIN IS TOO BIG ANF FULL OF ANGST!!!!! Heres some kisses too: maybe next fic its me x you pookie 😘😘🥰🥰😘😘😘😘

A/N What a wild way to close off a request, I honestly got so much respect for that. I don't do OCs but for the sign off comment, I'll make an exception. Also I am assuming you want this as a part two to Frostbite because she's still a blizzard demon?? Apologies in advance if I got that wrong. Also,, not you quoting something else I've written in your request. That's crazy, thank you so much for the love.

Day Lilies (Alastor x Blizzard demon!Reader x Angel!OC)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Part One: Frostbite (Alastor x Reader)

Warnings: Homophobia (from other people and internalized) and murder. Smoking/cigarettes and angst. Always angst. I think that is it, please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 2,969

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

The best thing about the Hazbin Hotel, according to some, was the fact that not one but two overlords who had found a home there. The Radio Demon and the Frost. Feared, revered, respected, and making an appearance for the first time in seven long years.

Without Alastor and Y/n's help, Charlie would not have been able to achieve all she had and she was eternally grateful to the pair, even if they were a tad confrontational and violent at times. Deeply in love, indebted to one another in a billion and five different ways, Alastor and Y/n had worked hard for their life in the underworld. As the angel stepped gently out of the portal, following her superior, Y/n felt the pressure of that life as it began to crash down around her.

When Charlie had struck the deal with Heaven to have an angel come down to the hotel to track its progress and assess if any of its inhabitants were worthy of redemption, Y/n had thought nothing of it. Sure, it was a bit irritating but if anything, the deal seemed ripe for entertainment and thats really all she and Alastor were after at the end of the day. She had figured the angel would be some low ranking nobody. She had thought it would be amusing, that they would torture the poor creature, that things would stay roughly the same. Never in her wildest dreams had the notion ever crossed Y/n's mind that the angel might be Charlotte.

Of course, Y/n had known Charlotte must be in Heaven. The girl had always been so kind, so good to her very core. It had just all seemed so far away and now, somehow, there she was, peeking timidly out from behind the seraphim's back.

Charlotte looked different, having taken on some animalistic, wolfish features since her death. Sharp ears sprouted from the untamed mess of her hair, fangs peeked their way out from the corners of her lips but Y/n was sure. It was Charlotte. It was all in the eyes.

"Welcome, Sera." Charlie politely began, taking a step forward.

Normally, such a show of self restraint from the young demon princess would have caused curiosity to spark a fire in Y/n's chest. Now, she just stood beside Angel as Charlie had requested, eyes wide and mind reeling.

"Is this who we will be working with?"

Sera looked at the shy wolf of a girl behind her and nodded her head, gesturing for the girl to step forward.

"Yes." she replied, her voice cold and haughty, "This is Charlotte, she has been with us for a while and we trust her judgment on matters such as this."

"Oh how funny!" Charlie brightly exclaimed, "My full name is Charlotte too but, I go by Charlie. Do you have a nickname you'd prefer?"

"Just Charlotte is fine." the angel softly replied and Y/n's breath caught in her throat.

The girls voice was honeysuckle, it was sticky sweet teen love.

"Why her?" Husk asked and Charlie shot him a glare, "She just seems a little..."

Sera laughed lightly, a caring smile sneaking on to her face.

"She's a little shy, but she is smart. Even when she was alive, she had an ability to read people, to see right through to the essence of their beings."

Charlotte blushed slightly at the compliment, turning away.

The southern sun beat down over head, long grass whipping at their legs as Charlotte, running, dragged Y/n to the center of the field.

"Lottie!" Y/n exclaimed, half laughing, "Where on earth are you taking me?"

Charlotte glanced back at her companion, a mischievous smirk painting her lips that sent bolts of red hot fire through to Y/n's fingertips.

"You'll see."

After a few more paces, they came to a panting halt. Charlotte turned to Y/n, placing a hand gently over the other girl's eyes. With a guiding hand, she lead the blinded girl to a spot a little ways off where she had snuck off to earlier and set up a picnic. There was fresh fruit, Georgia peaches from her family's own orchard, and home made lemonade. Slowly, Charlotte gifted Y/n with sight.

Y/n's mouth fell slightly open as she surveyed the scene before her. Sixteen and in love, she turned to Charlotte, taking both the girl's hands in her own.

"When... how..."

"I know things have been rough at home lately. I wanted to do something to make you smile."

"How did you know? I never..." Y/n cleared her throat, "I never said anything... I nev-"

"You didn't have to. I know you, love. You never have to say a word."

Alastor watched his lover silently from the other side of the group. Charlie had insisted they flank the guests, dragging Y/n away from his side just as the portal had opened. She didn't show it, not obviously, but he knew something was wrong. From the second the portal had opened and the angels had stepped through, she had gone tense, her eyes fixed on the one called Charlotte, the tips of her frostbite blackened fingers tapped against one another in wild thought.

"Well," Sera sighed, looking around at the ragtag group of sinners and demons, "I had best be on my way. I will be back in a few days to pick Charlotte up, please be kind to her over the course of her stay."

With those parting words and a reassuring pat on the angel's shoulder, Sera stepped back through the portal which closed behind her.

"Well," Charlie began brightly, clapping her hands together, "let's do introductions! I am Charlie Morningstar and I run the Hazbin Hotel with my girlfriend, Vaggie."

Vaggie sent Charlotte a wave which she timidly returned. With a deep breath, Charlotte stepped towards the line of sinners before her.

"Alastor." Alastor hummed, grabbing Charlottes hand and shaking it harshly, "A pleasure to be meeting you my dear, quite the pleasure."

It struck Charlie as a bit odd he said and did nothing else but, she made no mention of it. In her mind, Alastor was simply on his best behavior as requested. In reality, he was far too focused on the way a slight flurry of snow had begun to settle on Y/n's sharp shoulders.

"Nice to meet you too." Charlotte replied, extracting her hand from his grip and moving down the line.

Y/n's heart pounded wildly against her chest as Charlotte grew closer. Her tail twitched behind her, flicking back and forth gently, and her breaths grew slightly heavy. Although he noticed the odd behavior, it was impossible not to from his place beside her, Angel said nothing. At long last, Charlotte came to a stop before her.

"Disgusting!" Y/n's mother's voice rang out through the yard, "You are both complete and utter disgraces!"

They hadn't meant to be found out. As far as Y/n's mother had known, Y/n and Charlotte were best friends. Charlotte had come over to help Y/n with her chores, they had been doing laundry out in the yard when Charlotte had playfully flicked water towards her beloved. One thing had lead to another and before long, they had been wrapped up in one another, planting a singular, soft kiss on each other's lips. Y/n felt Charlotte's hand tighten around her own, she took a step forward.

"Don't you dare speak to her that way!" Y/n yelled back, anger burning brightly in her eyes and adrenaline shaking her limbs with wild courage, "Don't you dare!"

Her mother scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"She is a bad influence on you! The devil sent to curse me!"

Y/n's mother stepped forward, grabbing Y/n and wrenching her from Charlotte's grip. Charlotte tugged at Y/n's mother's dress as she dragged her girlfriend harshly into the small house.

"Let her go!" Charlotte cried, "Stop it! We weren't doing anything wrong!"

With a harsh slap to her face, Charlotte was sent to the ground. Her mother threw Y/n through the door, the unfinished wood of the floor sending splinters deep into Y/n's knees as she struggled to get to her feet. Her head had hit the corner of the table in her fall, the world was spinning. Y/n's mother grabbed the shot gun from where it lay beside the door. Just as Y/n managed to stumble to her feet, holding her swaying body up with a hand on the table she had hit, her mother stepped outside and slammed the door behind her, locking it.

Y/n rushed over, trying desperately to wrench it open to no avail. The anger had turned to panic as she heard her mother cock the gun.

"What are you doing!" she heard Charlotte yell and Y/n rushed to the window.

From her vantage point, Y/n watched her mother train the gun on Charlotte who had her hands raised and was stumbling backwards.

"Run!" she yelled, banging her fists on the glass, "Lottie, run!"

"Please." Charlotte was pleading, tears wetting her cheeks, "I promise I wont ever come here again, I wont ever come near her again. Please!"

"Lottie!" Y/n yelled again.

With no regard for her own safety, Y/n punched the glass of the window. The pane shattered around her hand, puncturing her soft skin. Blood, hot and wet, ran down her arm as she pulled her hand back to her side.

"Yeah, you sure as hell wont!" Y/n's mother yelled, her voice thick and low with rage, "You'll be dead!"

Y/n flung her leg over the window sill, shards of glass digging into her as she pulled herself through the hole she had created.

"Lottie!" she yelled again, "Run!"

Her screams were drowned out by the sound of a gunshot. Charlotte held her hands to her stomach, blood pouring from between her fingers. Their eyes met.

"Lottie!"

"And you are?" Charlotte asked expectently.

Y/n shook her head slightly, pulling herself from the depths of her memories. Everyone was staring at her, she had no idea how long the angel had been standing before her. She cleared her throat.

Alastor didn't know what was going on but, whatever it was, he knew he didn't like it. Using his shadows, he appeared behind Y/n and placed a protective hand on the top of her head between her horns. Her hair was damp from freshly fallen snow and Charlotte gasped slightly in surprise at his appearance.

"My dear," he grinned, leaning down to Y/n's ear, "you're snowing."

"I..."

Y/n looked up, her cheeks flushing pink and the heart on the tip of her tail puffing up as she realized what he said.

"O-oh." she stuttered, brushing his hand from her head and the snow from her shoulders as she regained control of her powers again, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

The other members of the hotel watched in a mixture of shock and confusion. They had always known Y/n to be cold, to be harsh. They had always seen her devotion to the man behind her as infallible. No one had any idea what was going on but, the presence of the angel stopped them all in their tracks.

"It's quite all right, what's your name?" Charlotte asked again, her voice honey sweet.

Y/n took a deep breath, morphing her features into the closest thing to a kind smile she could muster.

"Y/n." she firmly replied, "I'm Y/n."

Her eyes scanned Charlotte's face intently as their hands made contact. She waited for the shock of recognition, for the tears her Lottie had always been so prone to. There was nothing.

"That's a very pretty name." Charlotte replied, "It sounds like it is from the same era as mine."

That raised some small hope in Y/n's chest. She took a step forward, bringing herself closer to the angel.

"Which is?"

"Oh, I don't know." Charlotte replied, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment, "Angels don't get to remember their lives on earth unless they are pretty high in the ranks. I've been told I was from Georgia though, that I died in the early 1900s."

Y/n froze, her breath trapped in her chest, a knife buried deep within her heart.

"Oh." she mumbled out in a broken whisper, "I guess you... you don't know me in this lifetime."

"What was that?" Charlotte asked, leaning in a bit.

Y/n shook her head, letting go of Charlotte's hand.

"Nothing. I... I need some fresh air, I think. If you would all excuse me."

It didn't take Alastor long to find Y/n once Charlie had let him return to his duties in favor of showing Charlotte around the hotel. She stood out in back of the hotel, her back pressed firmly against the wall and a cigarette crushed between her fingers. Shakily, she took a drag.

"What was that about?" Alastor asked, leaning up against the wall beside her and folding his arms across his chest.

"What was what about." Y/n cooly replied.

"Y/n, don't play dumb."

"I knew her back when we were alive, thats all."

"Is that all?" Alastor asked after a moment, "You seemed..."

He trailed off. Alastor was angry. He had always been the jealous type, protective to a fault. He could see how shaken up Y/n was however and so, running a finger over the ring he wore, Alastor took a deep breath.

"That angel, Charlotte..." her name lingered poisonously on his tongue, "it seemed there was something a lot more than just you knowing her."

"I picked these for you." Y/n bashfully stated, shoving a bouquet tied with a rough bit of twine towards the pretty girl beside her, "Here."

Tentatively, Charlotte took the bouquet from Y/n's hand. She held it gently, watching the way the breeze played with the petals.

"Georgia asters?" Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, "And yarrow?"

"My momma didn't used to be poor. She grew up in a rich family, gave it up when she married my dad. Her momma taught her floriography." Y/n's words came out in a big rush, they chased after one another in a breathless flurry of nerves, "It was big in the victorian era for fancy people, all about talking through flowers. She taught me asters symbolized wisdom, faith, and valor and that yarrow was for healing and... and love... besides, I know you like them. You're always staring at them when were out."

Charlotte looked over at Y/n who's cheeks were bright red. She smiled, her eyes shining.

"I love you too." she said, nudging Y/n gently with her elbow.

"Yeah, but..." Y/n sighed, running a hand through her messy hair, "I... god, Lottie! I don't just love you like a sister. Its... I understand if you don't wanna talk to me anymore I just couldn't... I couldn't keep it in anymore."

Y/n looked away, tears pressing hotly at the backs of her eyes. Charlotte's eyes went wide.

"I understand... I won't be mad... I just... I'll leave."

Charlotte's hand shot out, grabbing Y/n's wrist as she pushed herself from the fence they were leaning against. Slowly, Y/n turned to face her. Charlotte was blushing now too and looked away, still holding Y/n tightly.

"I don't..." she took a deep breath, "I don't love you like a sister either."

"It's wrong... it's so wrong... what would my mother say... what would your mother say, I-"

Charlotte cut Y/n off, standing on her toes to press a soft kiss to the slightly taller girl's lips. It was clumsy and foreign. Y/n trembled, her eyes fluttered shut.

"I don't care." Charlotte said, "I don't care."

"Yeah." Y/n sighed, taking a final drag from her cigarette before stamping it out beneath her heel, "Yeah."

"Do I have anything to worry about?" Alastor asked and Y/n's eyes met his.

He had known her long enough, he could see the conflict.

"She was my first love, Al." Y/n admitted, "We were girls together."

"You're my wife."

"It's different."

"Do I have anything to worry about?" Alastor asked again and Y/n looked back out at the sky.

"She doesn't remember me."

"But you remember her."

"But I remember her." Y/n confirmed, her voice cracking, "I couldn't forget if I tried. She haunts me, Al. She has always haunted me, since long before I even met you. Lottie died in my arms, Al. My mother killed her, shot her right in the stomach. I...."

Y/n trailed off into silence. It was more about her life before she had met him than she had ever revealed before. Alastor took a deep breath, conflicting emotions battling behind his eyes.

"What are you thinking about?"

He was trying to keep his cool, to save face. He was failing, anger and a secret fear ate away at the edges of his words.

"Day lilies."

"Day lilies?" Alastor repeated and Y/n nodded, meeting his eyes once again.

"A floriography thing again?"

Alastor knew of Y/n's interest in the symbolic properties of plants. It was one of the only things she ever spoke about concerning her mother and her shadowed past before that night in Mimzy's bar.

"Yes."

"What do they mean?" Alastor sighed, resigning himself to his fate because god, if Alastor knew anything he knew his fate was Y/n. She held his heart in the palms of her hands.

"Love for lovers. Love for mothers..."

"And?"

His heart pounded against his chest.

"And loss of memory."

----

TAGS:

the ones in red are ones I am not sure worked/having trouble linking.

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170@wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

I'm So Glad That You're Here (Affinity Series)

I'm So Glad That You're Here

Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Sweet Little Omega!POC!Reader x Alpha!Steve Rogers

Wordcount: 3691

Summary:

Two Alphas, a Sweet Little Omega and another dinner party.

Warnings:

18+ Only MDNI, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, A/B/O Dynamics, Unprotected Sex, Oral, Knotting, Biting.

Notes:

I wanted something sweet, playful and dirty for our trio after the events of the last installment. Happy Reading Heathens 😈

Bannner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

Sometimes a mission can really mess with your head. Trauma is trauma and no matter how deep you think you have buried it or how much you think you have healed. You can still be triggered by the slightest thing.

All you want is the safety of the familiar. Of home.

That’s exactly what leads Bucky to rush straight home as soon as the mandatory debrief was over. Thankful that home is now close by deeper on the property. Not wanting Steve to fully be left without, he hops on his bike and guns it down the road. 

He makes it home in record time. Catching you cuddled up in the bay window. A book in your hands as the sunlight illuminates your skin. You greet him with a soft smile and his heart just melts. He walks with purpose until he reaches you. Dropping to his knees and pulling your face closer to finally lay his lips upon yours.

It has only been 3 days, but it felt like 3 weeks to him. The missions that take them to cold desolate places always mess with his mind. Needing the sweet warmth of his Omega to chase away the darkness that lurks on the edges. He moves your book aside and pulls you down onto his lap as he leans against the bench seat.

You trace the planes of his face, evening out the furrow in his brows. “That was quite the hello. Welcome back, Sarg. I take it Steve is still at the compound.”

He nods his head. “I couldn’t stand being there a minute longer than I had to. Needed my sweet little Omega.”

You run your fingers through his hair. “Did everything go okay? I know you can’t disclose much but you don't come home from a mission like this very often.”

“Cold.” He speaks. His blue eyes haunted. “We were in the middle of the snow and ice at some old abandoned hidden Hydra facility. I think I may have been held there before. Was having some deja vu I couldn't place and it really threw me. All I wanted was to come home and hold you. Remind myself that it is all behind me now. I’ll never be cold again as long as I have you.”

“Oh baby.” You hold him tighter. Pouring as much love and sweetness you can into him. “Well you’re home now and we can have a talk with Steve at a later date about future missions that take you to cold places. Having some parameters in place for you would be good for everyone.”

He kisses your forehead. “See. You have all the solutions. I am the luckiest Alpha alive to have an Omega like you.”

“What about Stevie? He has me too.”

“He’s second luckiest because I had you first.”

You just chuckle and kiss your man on the cheek. He turns at the last second and pulls you into a deep kiss.  You remain seated on the floor, blissfully making out like teenagers skipping class. Your phone, laying on the bench above you, starts to ring. It’s Steve’s specific ringtone so you can’t ignore it. 

Reaching a metal hand out, Bucky snatches it and answers.

“Make it quick Steven.”

“Ah. So you did go home already.” Steve responds. “Can I speak to our Omega please. I did call her, not you.”

Bucky grumbles and hands the phone over to you. Burying his face in your neck as he covers it in kisses and nibbles.

“Hello Captain. Welcome back.”

“Hello Dollface. Sorry I’m not home already. I had some things I needed to finish up here. The team is wanting to get together for dinner tonight.”

“Why don’t we do it here? I have enough stuff in the fridge already that needs to be made soon anyway. Plus it will get you home earlier and not everyone has been to the house yet. Unless I’m overstepping.”

“Not at all. That would be perfect Omega. I’ll let the team know and then finish my reports and head home. Do you need me to pick up anything from the store?”

“No. Just you as soon as possible. I would like to get my hands on you before I’m busy in the mess of entertaining. Bucky is way ahead of you already.”

“I’ll have my time when I get home. He needs you now. Take care of him and I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too. Don’t take too long.”

With a click you hang up the phone. Placing it back on the bench and kissing the top of Buckys head.

“The team is coming over for dinner. Steve will be home as soon as he is done with his reports. I was told to take care of you before I get started on dinner. And I intended to follow those orders. So, Alpha. What is it you need from your Omega?”

“Would you mind if we just laid in bed naked? I can’t promise that my parts and instincts will behave but I need to feel the warmth of your skin as you heart beats against mine.”

“Such a sweet talker. Of course we can be lazy and naked. I think that is a great way to spend the afternoon.”

“Perfect.” He rises up from the floor with you in his arms. “Let’s hurry up and get you undressed and laid out for me.”

He rushes upstairs. Gently placing you on your feet as he removes your leggings and oversized sweater. Noting you have nothing underneath. He growls deep in his chest as pulls his shirt off. Quickly divesting himself of his tactical pants and boxers.

He scoops you back up into his arms and proceeds to climb into bed with you wrapped around him. Breathing you in as he settles in. Tracing your mating scar with his tongue.

It’s supposed to be a sweet harmless, naked nap, but it’s slowly turning lustful as fingers and hands grope and caress.

You can feel his length harden between your thighs. Without thought, you shift your hips and navigate his tip to your entrance. On instinct, the moment he feels your slick he thrusts. Burying himself to the hilt. Encasing himself in your warmth as you struggle for breath.

“ Fuck. Perfect fit. Every time.” He mumbles out as his hips begin to grind into you. 

He barely pulls out. As if he can’t handle losing the smallest amount of your skin pressed to his. Kissing you so deeply it’s imprinted on your soul. His body relaying his love and devotion with every pump, caress and fangs scraping across your flesh.

Although the pace is languid, it is quite intense. His cock tracing every sweet spot. Pulling moans and mewls from your throat as you surrender. The pleasure builds and builds until with a crescendo you are crashing.

Your silken walls dancing and massaging along Bucky’s shaft as you come apart. Signaling for him to join you. His pace picks up just a fraction before you feel the tell tale signs of his knot beginning to thicken.

With a growl he bites down on your neck, freshening up his claim, as he slams his knot inside you. Locking your bodies in place as oxytocin, serotonin and dopamine flood your veins.

You feel rope after rope of his seed filling you. Trapped inside by his knot. Affording you a better chance to truly start the family you have been dreaming of.

You exchange soft kisses and love sick looks as you come down from your highs. Enjoying the quiet within your bubble while you wait for his knot to go down enough to clean up.

“I don’t think I have ever loved anyone as much as I love you.” Bucky whispers.

“I would have normally replied ditto. But that wouldn’t be true. Because I have two loves that share my heart equally. So I’m going to have to say you're tied.” You giggle.

“I believe it. And I’m not even mad at it.” He laughs. Mood far lighter than when he first arrived home.

You can feel the sticky mess of his cum and your slick beginning to leak down to your thighs. Signaling that Bucky's knot has gone down enough that he can pull out.

“Guess quiet time is over for now. Better get you cleaned up so you can play Hostess with the mostest for our undeserving team.”

“Shut up.” You slap his chest. “You know you love them and you can’t wait to see me all barefoot and dolled up in the kitchen, ready to serve your friends.”

“I’m not going to argue with you there. Can I ask you a favor?”

“Shoot”

“Can I pick your outfit?” His devilishly charming smile has returned to his face.

“Go for it, Alpha. Just don’t make me look stupid and at least carry me to the shower first.”

You have to admit that Bucky did a damn good job picking out your outfit for tonight. Choosing to go with a 40s style pencil dress that accentuates all of your curves. A purchase from the beginning of your relationship that you had yet to wear. Not only did it look fabulous on you, but it fit quite comfortably as well.

The look on Steve’s face when you emerged from upstairs to start cooking was priceless. It’s like his brain short circuited and had to buffer before he could respond. Which was with an audible swallow and a swear. Even going so far as to have you do a twirl for him so he could get the whole view.

“Buck you weren’t kidding when you said once I saw her the wait would be worth it and you rushing home without me would be forgiven.” 

He adjusts his pants and swaggers over to me. Taking in the red lipstick and light makeup I had adorned.

“I am going to enjoy destroying this lipstick later.” He ghosts his thumb along your jaw. “I’ll behave for now. Let you work your magic in the kitchen. Be a good team lead and host. But just know. Once everyone leaves. All bets are off.”

And boy was he having a hell of a time being a good host and trying to keep his hands to himself. If Steve could sneak a handful of your ass or a kiss to the neck he was all for it. Bucky doubling up on it for good measure.

It was starting to make your head spin as you placed the last serving dish on the table and took your seat. It was hard to keep the lighthearted conversations going as you sat between your Alpha’s. Their combined scents, tinted with lust, tickling your hindbrain with every breath.

“I knew you could cook, but damn girl you really went all out for us.” Sam piped up.

“Oh, this was nothing. I just whipped up what we had on hand and needed to be used. It’s not much more than the amount I have to make for these two anyway. Easy adjustment.” You shrugged.

“What he is trying to say is thank you for providing us with a home cooked meal after a tough mission. This is far better than the catering Tony would have ordered.” Nat imparts.

“Hey!” Tony gapes.

“Plus the house looks amazing. I love what you have done with it. I see why the boys are barely around any more. You have made a lovely home here.” She finishes.

You feel warmth spread through your chest at the compliment. You really did love this house and you worked really hard to make it a home for your pack.

“So when are you going to fill this place up with pups?” Thor blurts out.

“Thor! You can’t just flat out ask them that.” Bruce chides.

“What? I am curious. She is very fertile and they are enhanced. As well as being a bonded pack. The next logical step is to procreate. Is it not?”

“It’s ok Thor. I’m not offended.” You smile at him. “I don’t know how soon pups will happen for us.”

“You’re having a good time trying though. If your Barnes saturated scent has anything to do with it. Captain you must contribute your seed soon as well if you wish to have an equal chance of impregnating her.”

“Don’t I know it.” Steve grins down at you. “I’m not the least bit worried I won’t have a chance. But good looking out.”

“Oookay. That’s enough of that.” Tony declares. Changing the subject to something less personal.

It was an all around wonderful dinner and Bucky’s mood seems to have returned to its normal state. Gathering the plates you head into the kitchen. Humming along to the music quietly playing through the hidden speakers. As you begin to place the dishes in the sink, a pair of hands wrap themselves around your waist.

“Let your Alpha’s handle that, Omega. You’ve done enough tonight.” Steve speaks against your shoulder.

“What do you suggest I do instead? Our guests are sure to be leaving soon.”

“Dance with me?”

You smile to yourself before spinning in his arms. “Always.”

You begin to sway to the beat wafting through the quiet air of the kitchen. Time stands still has you rest your head on your Alpha’s chest and breathe in his scent. You are happy he made it home safe from another mission in one piece. Affording you this sweet moment to slow down and just enjoy each other, while the world continues on outside.

Sam and Nat, coming to say their goodbyes, happen upon the two of you dancing. Never one to pass up a chance for possible embarrassing material, Sam pulls out his phone and hits record.

“Need some pointers on how to actually dance Sam?” Steve speaks out.

“My dancing is impeccable. I just need proof you’re a softy when you're riding my ass in the gym. Might even help calm you down when you’re all hot headed after a mission gone wrong.”

You feel, more than hear the growl that emanates from Steve’s chest.

“I think that’s our cue to say our goodbyes and go Sam.” Nat takes the phone from his hand. “Thank you again for having us over. We’re all going to get out of your hair now.”

“Oh!” You pull your head away from Steve’s chest. “Let us walk you out. Make sure I get to say my goodbyes to everyone.”

You grab Steve’s hand before he has time to object and head down the hall to the foyer where the team is grabbing their coats and bags.

Hugs, handshakes and ‘see you laters’ are exchanged. Before Bucky has fully closed the door and locked it, Steve has swept you up into his arms and is heading back into the dinning room. He places you on your feet at the head of the table, where he was sitting earlier.

“I know it’s tight. But pull your dress up over your hips for me, Omega.”

The seductive tone in his voice, has you obeying immediately. You grip the hem of your pencil skirt and slowly pull it over your thighs, hips and ass. Revealing a set of black satin garters and your newly soaked tiny lace thong.

With a growl, he rips the thong from your body and sits you on the table. Spreading your thighs wide to accommodate his broad shoulders, he pulls you to the edge of the table.

“Hold on tight Omega. This is the only thing I have been craving all night. It’s time I finally get my fill.”

He lowers his head and begins feasting on your flesh. Declaring his devotion and want for you with his talented tongue. The man barely comes up for air as he works to have you coming apart on his tongue.

It is not long before that familiar tingle dances along your spine and your core tightens. With a scream you come undone. Gushing onto his waiting tongue as he devours you further.

With a satisfied groan he stands. His impressive bulge on full display, testing the limits of his zipper. Your mouth waters, wanting to return the favor and have his particular taste coat your tongue.

As you lean forward, eager to release his thick length, you are once more lifted into the air. This time over Steve’s shoulder. You don’t mind the position. It does afford you a great view of America’s Ass. You can’t help but give it a little squeeze as you are taken to, what you can only assume from knowing the layout of your home, is the living room.

Your assumptions are correct as you are placed down behind the large sectional. Before you, stands Bucky on the opposite side. Pants undone and cock standing at attention. This moment feels distinctly familiar.

With a stroke up your spine and gentle push, Steve bends you over the couch.

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to fuck you that night after that get to know you dinner Omega. But you weren’t mine then. You were all his and I had to play by his rules.”

He unzips his pants. Finally giving his cock some much needed relief. Teasing the tip along your dripping folds as he continues on.

“The way you begged your Alpha to let you taste me. Mmmf.”

He slaps your ass.

“That brought a tingle to my balls. And then you got that pretty little mouth wrapped around me and I was a fucking goner.”

He thrusts slowly inside you and stills.

“It took everything I had not to embarrass myself and pop my knot instantly when Buck made you come. Almost didn’t pull the damn thing back enough in time to blow my load right down your throat.”

He pulls back and slams back in. Making you moan out and grab onto the couch for support.

“And like the good little Omega that you are, you drank down. Every. Last. Drop.”

He punctuates his last three words with a deep thrust.

“Now you're mine too. My bite mark, proudly displayed alongside Bucks on your neck. Our head Alpha has already had you today. So I think it’s only fair that he has to watch me fuck you senseless until you are begging me to let you suck his cock. And just maybe I’ll be generous enough to let you.”

He picks up his pace. Pounding into from behind and hitting all of your sweet spots. You lose yourself for a moment. Enjoying the fullness of your Alpha inside you.

You open your eyes to find Bucky with his flesh hand stroking his cock as his metal one squeezes the base. Most likely to keep his knot from popping.

“Please.” You whimper.

“Already?” Bucky grits out. “You need to taste my cock that badly already, Omega?”

“I’m so close. Want to come with you in my mouth. Just like I did with Stevie that night.”

Your Alpha’s purr in unison at your declaration. Sharing a look with each other as Bucky steps forward.

“Open your mouth Omega. Let your Alpha’s fill you up.” Steve demands.

Bracing yourself on Bucky's thighs, you open your mouth wide and let him feed you his thick and angry cock.

You bob and swivel your head as Steve rearranges your insides. You're lost to your hindbrain. Happy and content that your Alpha’s can’t get enough of you. It’s bringing you even closer to what you know will be an explosive climax.

“Oh fuck. Your perfect pussy is squeezing me so tight. Better hurry up and get there before I do, Omega.”

Those words. That subtle command combined with a direct shot to your sweet spongy spot, is your undoing. With a muffled moan you detonate. The walls of your throat and your pussy constricting around the ample girths invading them.

In a quick movement, Bucky begins to pull out. Stopping as soon as his ever growing knot passes your lips. You reach forward and grip it tight. Massaging the ring of sensitive flesh as he floods your mouth and throat with his creamy seed.

You pull off of his cock with a satisfied smack. Opening your mouth wide for him to inspect the load before you swallow it down with a moan.

A moan that quickly turns into a wail as Steve slams inside of you. Deep as his body will allow, as his knot thickens. Locking you together as he spills rope after hot steamy rope of his super soldier sperm against your cervix.

Growling and groaning as your pussy takes it all and convulses around him in kind. Pressing his forehead between your shoulder blades and raining kisses along your shoulders as he catches his breath.

“I can not wait until your round with our pups, Omega.” Steve pants out.

“Mmm. Me either.” Bucky agrees.

“You’ve certainly been putting in work trying.” You add.

“That we have. But it hasn’t stuck yet so we clearly have more work to do.” 

Steve moves his hips, testing to see if his knot has deflated enough for him to safely pull out. As gentle as he can he removes himself.

“It’s a good thing I gave Buck and I the next 3 days off for ‘recovery’ then.”

“What!?” You and Bucky both blurt out.

“You heard me. Buck clearly took the mission hard and what better way to help him heal than to spend the next 72 hours reclaiming our Omega and keeping her nice and full so we can start that family we all so desperately want.” He grins from ear to ear.

“I really do have the best pack.” Bucky softly states. Eyes full of love and devotion.

“You deserve it.” You state as you pull him down for a sweet kiss. “You both do.”

“Fuck your making me hard again.” Steve whines.

“Better hurry up and use that super strength to carry me to the nest then.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Steve lifts you up with ease and hurries up the stairs. Bucky following closely behind with a laugh.

[nanamikentorp]

hi admin, i was the one that sent you that mean ask. i want to apologise. i didn't mean to make you upset with my ask, i am sorry if i had offended you in some way. now that i've reread what j sent, i see how i mean i was being. please keep up with what youre doing and ill make sure to be more mindful before sending an ask. i hope you can forgive me <3

Hello anon. Don't worry. There is nothing to forgive. I was not upset, just a bit irked. It was good for me to also clarify what this rp would be like.

Once again, just a reminder, the rp is not being forced on anyone and you can unfollow if you don't like it there's no hard feelings. Please understand Tumblr is a place where you can curate your own experience. If you don't like something you aren't going to be forced to stay. This isn't school, or a shitty job.

But, all of you are welcome here. We're all just getting through life dreaming of our beautiful fictional husband. So whether you send in an ask or you just lurk and read it's all good.

That being said, I will deal with nastiness firmly. Hence my previous reply.

Anyway, take care guys, my inbox is empty, come send asks to Mr Kento all you like.

Admin

[animatorweirdo]

The Adventure of Little Dior, And His Dragonborn Neighbor

You and Dior unintentionally go on an adventure together.

Warnings: No one else except the dragon and C&C get hurt for their misbehavior.

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

Luthien: I received a letter from my mother that a dragon of Morgoth lurks on the north side of Doriath. She urges us to be careful. 

You: You know, I am experienced in dealing with dragons. I can deal with the beast and make the roads safe again. 

Luthien: That would be helpful. Are you certain it would not be too much trouble for you, my friend? You did desire a peaceful life from your old one. 

You: I don’t mind, especially if the dragons are an active threat. I guess it would be good for me to travel again a bit. 

Luthien: In that case, I send a letter to my mother. You can travel to Doriath and get more details from her. 

Beren: I prepared some food for the trip since you might stay out for a while. 

You: Thank you two. I get my gear and get ready. 

Dior: *Have been secretly listening and got an idea* 

*After preparing and ready to leave.*

You: *You climb up on a horse and look down on your neighbors*

Luthien: Good luck, my friend. Travel and fight safely. 

You: I will. Strange, is Dior not gonna come see me off? 

Beren: Strangely, I haven’t been able to find him. I guess he might be hiding at his play place. 

You: This might be for the best. He might have the idea to come with me to see the dragon. 

You: Anyway, I’m off. I will come back once I taken down the beast. 

*You three bid farewell and you left their humble home.*

*You arrive at the faraway road. 

You: Alright, where is this Doriath on the map?

You saddle bag: *Makes strange sounds.*

You: *Stare at your saddle bag as it continues to make strange sounds*

You: *Open your saddle bag and see Dior curled up inside.*

You: Well…I thought my bag was a bit heavier than usual. What the hell are you doing in my bag, boy?! 

Dior: *Innocently* I wanted to come along and see the dragon. 

You: Nu-uh! I am taking you back. Your mother might trust me enough to keep you safe, but I do not trust myself to keep you safe. 

Dior: No! No! No! Please—-! Let me come! Naneth and Ada won’t let me see the world outside the forest! Just once! I promise I will be good! 

You: Dior, I would love to take you along, but the world is a dangerous place. Dragons especially are very mean creatures. 

Dior: Then I won’t be in your way. I just watch from the distance. I wanna see a dragon, just a glimpse, like in your dragon slayer stories. 

You: *Groans*

Dior: *Stares hard with pleading eyes. *

You: *Picks him up from the bag and places him in front of you* Fine… 

Dior: Yay! 

You: But do not tell your father I allowed this. If they ask, I found you after I dealt with the beast. 

Dior: Okay! 

You: Great! Let’s go then. I guess we can visit your relatives in the magic forest. 

*You two sets off*

*Back at L&B household* 

Beren: Love! Our son is missing! 

Luthien: Hmm? What do you mean missing? 

Beren: I mean he’s missing. I can’t find Dior anywhere! 

Beren: You don’t think he actually went with (Name)?

Luthien: *Thinks about it, then shrugs her shoulders* He’s probably fine. 

Beren: ???

Luthien. My love, if he’s with (Name), then there’s nothing to be worried about. It would be more foolish for the creatures to attack them. 

Beren: How.. is that better???

*After a few hours of traveling, you and Dior finally find your way to Doriath*

You: Hello there. I heard there’s a dragon problem here. 

Beleg: Ah, you must be the rumored dragon slayer. 

Beleg & Mablung: *Notices Dior*

Dioe: *Waves* Hi! 

Mablung: Why is there a child with you? 

You: Oh, this is my little stowaway. He hid in the bag when I left and now it’s too late to bring him back, so he’s my little companion for today. 

You: Which reminds me. You wood elves would not mind watching him while I deal with the dragon problem. 

Mablung: This is not a daycare. 

You: Oh, so you want me to bring your king’s grandson to slay the dragon? 

Beleg & Mablung: *Silent in shock*

Beleg: I’m sure… our king would not mind watching his grandson for the time being. 

You: That’s what I thought. Alright, boy. Time to get off. 

Dior: Aww! Really? But I wanted to see the dragon! 

You: Yes. Unfortunately, the dragons are really mean toward elflings. And don’t you want to see Grandpa and Grandma? 

Dior: Well… yeah. 

You: *Helps him down* Good. I will be right back. Remember to behave yourself. 

*You leave with a guide to find the dragon*

*You leave your horse at a safe distance and stand at the area where the dragon was last sighted.*

You: Alright, where are you? 

*The dragon flies over you, roaring fiercely*

You: *Bring out your weapons* There you are beautiful. 

Beleg & Mablung: *Watching from the distance*

Mablung: I do not understand. How is she supposed to bring that beast down? 

You: *Shout at the dragon* JOOR ZAH FRUL!

The dragon: *Screams as the power of your shout forces it to crash to the ground.*

You: *Start beating the crap out of the dragon with your weapons* 

Mablung & Beleg: *Stare as you beat the dragon into submission* 

Beleg: I guess that’s one way to do it. 

You: *Stand above the dragon as it lies beaten down on the ground*

You: *Ready to slay the dragon* Time to meet your maker, beast. 

Dior: No! Don’t kill him! 

You: *Freeze and look over to the little elf that stood between the march wardens. The two stared down at the elfling in shock as he had most likely snuck from Doriath* 

Dior: He might be mean, but you do not have to kill him. 

You: *Under your breath* Fuck…

Beleg: Uh, little one, the dragon is not welcome here and has caused a lot of harm. It needs to go. 

Dior: He might have been just upset. Just because they look mean, doesn’t mean they have to be killed without understanding it. 

Dior: *Looks at you with pleading eyes* Please (Name). Don’t kill him. 

You: *Sighs* Okay… 

Mablung: *Stares at you in shock* OKAY?!

Dior: Can I pet him? 

Mablung: Absolutely not! 

You: Sure, but give me one moment. I need to talk with the Mister Dragon. 

You: *You pick the dragon’s head close to you and look at him in the eye.* Listen very carefully. I have forty-seven confirmed dragon kills. I have devoured the soul of each one of them, the only exception being their leader. I have used their souls to unlock my powers and turned their very bones into armor. So, if you want to live, you better play nice or I will add you to my list and turn your teeth into a necklace I will gift to my neighbor. Do you understand me? 

The Dragon: *Nods frantically*

You: Good, so be a good little flying worm and start playing with my neighbor's son, and remember, pluck a single hair from his little head, and I will… *Bring him close* 

You: Devour. Your. Soul. 

The Dragon: *At the brink of crying*

*Skip to the part where Dior plays with the dragon, the latter being extremely docile and gentle with the elfling*

You, and the march wardens: *Looking from the distance*

Mablung: I have so many questions. What did you say to the beast? 

You: Just told him to be careful or there will be consequences. I guess Dior was right. You just need to talk with them and you can come to an understanding. 

Beleg: You are… a curious type of woman. 

You: Nah, I’m just a passing dragonslayer willing to compromise. 

*Skip to your return home after playing with the dragon, who then flew away as fast as he could to get away from you, never to be seen again*

Dior: *Walks in front of you* I had so much fun. Mister Dragon was really nice. It’s too bad he left before I could ask if we could be friends. 

You: Well… maybe he had something busy to do. Perhaps he needed to return to his wife and kids, or maybe he forgot to turn off the oven. 

Dior: Dragons have ovens? 

You: You never know. Dragon lairs are unpredictable. You can find anything in there, so it wound’t be a surprise if you find an oven. 

Dior: *Nods, thinking about the possibility of ovens.*

Dior: I’m gonna tell everything to Naneth and Adar!

You: Remember our little deal. I did not realize you were with me till I defeated the dragon. 

Dior: Okay! 

You: Luthien might be okay with it, but I fear your father will have a heart attack if he knew I allowed you to play with a literal dragon. 

*You two continue walking on the road, without realizing Celegorm and Curufin heard everything hidden behind some bushes as they were on a hunt*

Curufin: Did I hear correctly? That child is the son of that mortal and Luthien? 

Celegorm: No you heard correctly. Looks like them as well.

Curufin: Oh, just the idea of those two having an offspring pisses me off. 

Celegorm: *Gets a twisted idea*

Celegorm: Curufin. I have an idea. 

Curufin: Whatever it is. Forget about it. I do not want to risk anything by getting involved with Luthien and that mortal man again. 

Celegorm: Oh, don’t worry. I have a plan that might ensure a silmaril for us. 

Curufin: I’m listening. 

Celegorm: Let’s take the child. Luthien might have been so unwilling to marry me, but I’m sure she loves her son. Let her try to convince that arrogant father of hers to give up the silmaril in exchange for the safe return of her child. I’m sure Thingol is not that heartless to let anything happen to his only grandchild. 

Curufin: I see… it might work. But, what about that human woman? I do not think she will give the child to us willingly. 

Celegorm: Then we shall dispatch her and take the child as quickly as possible. We do need someone to tell them the conditions. 

Curufin: Very well. Let’s do it. 

*Skips back to you*

Dior: *Talking about something excitedly*

You: *Yawns, having lost focus for a moment*

You: *Look to the sides, having a sense of being followed*

You: *Whispers* Laas…

Dior: Did you say something, (Name)? 

You: Just thought I saw something. How about we make a camp here? It has been a long day, and I do not think we will be back before nightfall. 

Dior: Okay! Can I help with the fire? 

You: Sure, but first, let me ensure the forest is safe. How about you watch over our horse for the time being? 

Dior: Sure! *Grabs the reins from your hand*

You: That’s a good boy. I will be right back. 

You: *Vanishes into the forest*

*In the pushes*

Celegorm: This is our chance. Let's do this! 

Celegorm: Tch! The carelessness of this woman. To leave the child right there for the snatching. 

You: *Appear between them with a smile* What are we doing? 

You: *Cover their mouths and pull them back before they could react*

You: *Continues beating the shit out of them silently as possible*

Celegorm: *Lays on the ground, beaten down and with a bleeding nose*

You: *Graps his hair and forces him to look you in the eye* Now, usually, I would kill any elf who is just as arrogant as the Thalmor, but I am feeling generous today so I won’t kill you. But, you will take your things and leave at once, and if you dare to come back and try something that will threaten the life of my neighbor’s son. 

You: I… Will… Hunt… You… Down. 

You: Are we clear? 

Celegorm: *Groans* Yes… 

You: Good. Good. Now get the fuck out of my sight! *Releases him and leaves.*

Celegorm & Curufin: *Leaves, wounded and deciding to kidnap the child was not worth the effort with you there protecting the elfling*

You: *Return to the camp*

You: There were a couple of mean raccoons hiding in the bushes. I had to chase them off or they would have stolen our lunch. It’s safe now. Would you like to have some of the bread your grandmother gave us? 

Dior: *Completely oblivious * Yes, please!

[mirzamsaiph]

IT’S ME, I’M ALIVE, UR GIRL IS BACK FR FR. 

Okay, calming down now. Hi, how are you doing? I hope you’ve been good. I AM SO SORRY I haven’t commented on your new chapter releases, I’ve been having a rough time, year 12 is hard man, and I still have like two more terms of school after this one, and then university. I promise you I have read every chapter you’ve dropped, even if I haven’t commented. I’ve been lamenting for days on whether or not to send you an ask bcs like, ur my fav and ya know, it’s only fair I do bcs I follow you anyway lol but I also have no idea what to say, ur making me shy, damn. I’ve just been lurking in your Tumblr feed, liking all ur posts like a gremlin bcs sending an ask is too scary, (forgive me, for I am a coward). How long has it been since I last commented, I don’t even know 🙁.

I’m writing this as a draft in Google Docs in the middle of my maths double, who writes a draft for an ask? Me, I write drafts for asks apparently, yikes man. The maths part doesn't matter, I do not care for it.

I still love every single one of your chapters, ESPECIALLY THE READING THE BOOK ONES!! LIKE HELLO?!?!? POSEIDON FOR BEST FATHER!?!?! Sobbing, screaming, crying after reading that, I love the sea fam. Percy is so bbg too, like hold him in my hands and give him lil forehead kisses kinda bbg, so precious. AND just the campers, they're so cute, I love when Camp Half-Blood actually comes across as a family, or like an actual camp, the singing around the camp-fire is so wholesome, and Will being Percy's hype-man, like c'mon man, they're just best buddies, I love that for them.

It is deeply important to me that you understand just how much I love your fics, and just like ur content in general. When I get bored I always check my emails for updates or I go on ur Tumblr and just scroll, like I love u pookie, fr.

I’m just gonna send this as is, I’m psyching myself out over this hahah. I’ll try and get around to commenting on chapters again, especially one’s I’ve missed, and if I have time I might just start sending them via Tumblr. I need like somewhere to list everything I wanna talk abt in the comments.

Anyway, bye bye, see u soon.

Fun fact, in however long I’ve had Tumblr, this is my first ask :3

PS: I just realised I never put my name lol, it’s Smoll_Satan. This is my Tumblr account 👍.

OH MY GOD HELLO??? WELCOME BACK GIRL??? YOU HAVE BEEN MISSED TRUST 🤞🏻

I’m doing great, school is kicking my butt :( trying not fail this semester as the moment. Year 12 (which I’m taking a wild guess and saying that is junior year, in American terms) is known as the hardest and most stressful year, so no judgement here girlie!

Don’t fear girl! I’m not scary at all, I’m like the literal least intimidating person on the planet. I’m just a girl I promise. I saw you go through and like my posts and I was giggling everytime I got a notification bc that was really nice 😭

Writing in your docs is so real because I have done the EXACT same thing so many times, mostly bc I fear tumblr is gonna bug out on me ;( Also I hate math too, it irks my soul.

THANK YOU. POSEIDON IS GETTING HIS REDEMPTION ARK. TRUST ME. I was screaming writing that, i was just so surprised that I wrote that because I lovedddd it.

Will and Percy are best bro’s but Percy is ready to threaten him when he and Nico get together. Trust Percy is a protective older brother… (the singing was so sweet :(()

GIRL I LOVE YOU OH M GEE YOU’RE SO SWEET. I love seeing your comments, whilst you look for my chapters I go looking in my comments for your comment.

Don’t psych yourself out when it comes to Tumblr asks! I love them, like I find it so amazing. If you do comment trust I’ll be replying to each one, they are the source of my amusement for each chapter. (literally have cackled reading your commentary)

BYE! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[the-therapist-is-ace]

Hello! As promised to @rubberduckyrye, here are some of my notes I got about my social psychology class, about leadership! (And of course I thought of V3. Of course. So I'm sharing the ones that could be linked to it x)

(Please keep in mind that those datas were extracted from social experiments in real life, not a killing game tho xD)

There's four "main" types of leadership:

Authoritarian (like in the army)

Transactional (preferably one for a short period of time or objective; this one is quite literally, a transaction. You do this task, you get this reward. It's not a long-term option)

Transformative (This one is the most looked after in companies: it's one that focus on changing things for the better, helping employees too in the process, but also it's looking for long-terms solutions and practice. The one that can motivate others, and help employees with their problems)

And lastly the "let it be", a type of leadership that let the "employees" -keep in mind those experiments were done in companies' settings- do what they want and doing much about it.

First of all, it's good to know that the leadership authoritarian is less performant than the transactional, or the transformative. But it's still WAY BETTER than the "let it be"! To give a hierarchy:

"let it be" < authoritarian < transactional < transformative.

(Again, in a company's setting. But I think it would work best in a killing game too, since everyone have to collaborate for a long term objective, leaving, when there's one actual traitor in their group)

Kaede and Kokichi (because I am still talking about V3, of course!) both tried -Kaede... more or less- a transformative leadership. Which, good idea! The problem being that Kaede also took some major part of the "let it be" type as well. Asides from the Death Road of Despair, and when she asked Miu for help, she pretty much didn't let the others contribute.

Kokichi too; well he let Miu, Gonta and maybe a bit Shuichi contribute, but after the first trial there's not a lot of people willing to listen to him asides the first two I mentionned.

Angie in chapter 3, tried an authoritarian leadership. Which... works, until the authority figure isn't respected (or feared) and people start doing whatever they want again. (And the problem with her, is that she only was respected by half of the class to begin with. It was bond to fail)

And all three of them struggle with the notion to let others than their allies do the work for the group (which, in a killing game is understandable. There's a mastermind lurking around) but it doesn't help the overall cohesion, conflicts in the group happens because "it's always the same doing the things" (in a company setting anyway.)

An annoying thing too, is that once a leader is designated, all the others around are like "oh cool, they'll do all the work and I can chill" only doing things if the leader actually tell them to. In a company setting (or in a group project...) no problem. In a killing game on the other hand...

The followers have the tendency to take the values of their leader in mind when taking decisions; in a company, it's seen as a HR employee avoiding to recruit women because he knows his superior is mysogynist. In the killing game, it's seen when Kaede declare they're all friends, and despite the murders that happens, everyone claim this mentality. (Claim. Not necessary follow... *look at the murders*)

Because yes, having people with differents values/goals (i.e: the mastermind working against them) obviously doesn't help the group.

And then, interestings things are seen.

It has been shown in the experiments, that the one stepping up to be the leader, isn't always the most qualified for the job.

Not only that, but people that chose their leader doesn't necessary makes the right choice, and prefer to have someone they like in charge, they are biased.

Looks familiar to anyone?

And now the most fascinating thing:

If no real leader (recognized, followed by everyone or the biggest majority and most importantly: DOING A GOOD JOB) is there, that's when a scapegoat is "designed".

You know, the one that everyone claim to be the source of all problems (the "villain") the one that get ignored (even when they are BLEEDING) the one that can get all their hard work for the group overlooked, even when said-work help to end the crisis? (AKA, the killing game?)

Hm, wonder who that is in V3!

On a lighter note, homor is a great idea in leadership. Studies showed that a joking leader eased the tensions in the group, and help motivate people to go forwards.

Hm, wonder who could try to make jokes to ease the tension...

[goldenteaset]

I just had a horrible idea. What if Belial introduced Cammy to Bubs?

You call it terrible, but it made me laugh, anon! XD All I can think of is that time when Bubs interrupted Belial and his then-doomed Erune girlfriend. And from what context clues we're given, he apparently introduced himself by looming outside the window...? (For Bubs' sake, let's assume this is during a yoga session instead of something more intimate.)

(Also assume that if this were with the English voice actors, who're also great, Bubs wouldn't be in all caps because he has a quieter voice that's ideal for erudite seething. XD;)

Beelzebub, through the window: SO THIS IS WHERE YOU'VE BEEN LURKING, SERPENT.

Belial, in the middle of showing off with the King Pigeon Pose: Ugh, not Bubs again.

Beelzebub: SUFFERING TREMENDOUSLY FOR YOUR MEAGER GAINS, I HOPE? >:D

Belial: Not until you got here. *siiiiigh* Anyway. Cammy, this is an ex-coworker of mine, Beelzebub--Bubs for short. Bubs, this is Cammy, my girlfriend.

Cammy, peeking around behind Belial with wide eyes: Hello? Y-Y-Your hair...it's amazing...

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub, tossing his braided mane and kicking up a medium-sized gale with it: >:D YES, LOOK UPON ME, TAKE IN EVERY INCH OF ME INTO YOUR UNWORTHY MIND, MINUSCULE MORTAL! CONTINUE TO PRAISE ME, FOR I AM THE KING--

Cammy, whispering to Belial: I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I--

Belial: It's fine, it happens to everyone.

[theragethatisdesire]

hello bb and congratulations again 💗💗💗 i’m so happy and excited for you hitting such a major milestone 🥳 so well deserved!!

could i please request “do you trust me?” w geto? 🥺 no preference on fluff smut or angst, just whatever speaks to you

tytyty in advance 🥰 luv u~

HEY TIFF thank you so much!!!!! i just adore you mwah you're the BEST. i can absolutely do that for you my lovie dove WHERE are all these geto asks coming from rn i have another in my inbox ?!?! i didn't know all u geto girlies were hiding in my followers like hello....ANYWAY i am not a manga girly so i have no idea how geto's actual storyline goes so i went with a modern!AU as is my tendency

-

It's been a rough day. You're three tequila sodas deep, nuzzled into the wood of your favorite dive bar, and trying to ignore the tears continuously threatening to well in your eyes. Your phone sits on the counter, buzzing continuously and likely irritating the other patrons, but you're beyond caring.

Your cheating, piece-of-work, now ex-boyfriend knows no bounds apparently, sending text after text groveling and begging you to pick up. You have no intentions of doing so, but watching the screen light up over and over again, reading his begging, is giving you a sick satisfaction. Bastard.

"Excuse me?"

A voice floats over your shoulder, deep and pleasant. You turn, fully ready to bark at whoever dared interrupt your misery, but your mouth shuts as soon as you catch sight of the man behind you.

Tall and broad, with long dark hair tied into a neat bun, two little pieces framing his angular face beautifully. He's gorgeous, but something about him disarms you in a way you wish he wouldn't. Your woman's intuition is whispering that something more lurks below the innocent, friendly smile on his face, something dangerous, but you swallow it down, intrigued.

"Yes?"

"Is this seat taken?"

You're surprised; sweaty, fresh out of work in your little waitress uniform, face blotchy with the remnants of spilt tears, you absolutely aren't looking your best. You shrug, nod, and gesture towards the seat, unsure of what exactly this guy's playing at.

"You seem to be drinking alone," he observes after allowing a few quiet minutes to stretch between you.

"I am," you confirm, wincing at the popping sound your straw makes, the last bits of your cocktail struggling to make it up to your mouth, "I try not to make it a habit, but it's been a bit of a day."

"Hm," he nods thoughtfully, reaching a beckoning hand out to the bartender. After he orders his scotch, he orders a drink for you, nailing the combination perfectly: tequila soda, splash of lime juice, with an orange slice. Your eyes narrow in suspicion.

"How did you-"

"I overheard you earlier." That same friendly, disarming smile graces his face, warms your core and sends alarm bells ringing in your head.

"Have you been...watching me?"

"No," he waves a nonchalant hand through the air, sliding a black Amex across the counter to the bartender, "not watching. I just tend to keep an eye on a beautiful woman when I see one."

You blink. Should you be creeped out? Intrigued? Ashamed of the lusty electricity buzzing through your veins at his compliment? All three?

"T-thank you," you stammer, unsure of what else to say.

"Speaking of beautiful women," he turns towards you, cheersing his glass against your own, "what are you doing drinking on your own?"

"My boyfriend sucks," you mumble around the little plastic straw between your lips, "ex that is."

"He must not be all that bright, then," his eyes trail over your figure meaningfully, something in his smile growing darker.

"I just want to forget about him," you admit, shamefully vulnerable in front of a total stranger. You realize you don't even know his name, but when he lays a hand across your thigh, high up enough to be far from friendly, you feel a familiar heat spark across your skin. It's enough to forego the details, you need plenty of things from this mysterious stranger, but not his name.

"I know a thing or two about forgetting someone," his tongue darts out to wet his lips, yours mirroring it unintentionally, "would you like...some advice?"

"I don't know," you chuckle, "what kind of advice?"

"Well, it's more help than it is advice," that smile deepens into a smirk, one eyebrow raising in a silent challenge, "do you trust me?"

"You're a perfect stranger."

"I am," he inclines his head in admittance, but doesn't lose his stamina for a moment, "do you trust me?"

And maybe it's the tequila, maybe it's his strong neck that looks like it would give so deliciously under your teeth, maybe it's the insistent little circles his thumb is rubbing into your thigh, but you feel freer, more daring than before. It escapes your mouth in a whisper, desperate and trembling in the air between you.

"Yes."

[forhappysake]

What Lurks Within, Pt. 3

Author's Note: I know this is only my first series, but I'm having soooo much fun with it. This section offers some more background on Y/N's past with the team. If you love lore, this is for you!

Content: When the team gets a lead from the local department's tech analyst, they're forced to look into a questionable detective with a long history of complaints against him. Before they can talk to him, they've got to get him to the precinct, triggering some hard memories from the past as old fears reemerge.

Warnings: Mentions of harassment/sexism in the workplace, brief mentions of Cat Adams and Scratch, mentions of past trauma, established relationship... I think that's pretty much it!

After the detective stormed out of the precinct, the team slowly shuffled out of the conference room into the main bullpen. The young tech worker, evidently named Richie, bent over his shattered monitor. “My poor screen,” he mumbled, bending down to pick up a shard of glass on the floor. 

“Richie,” I said, “I’m Agent L/N with the BAU. I’d like to know what all that was about.” I feigned ignorance. I wanted to hear it from Richie’s perspective, and I didn’t want him to know Whittenden had already discussed the matter with Spencer and I. 

Richie sighed, standing up straight and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You see, when I get files from my bosses, I don’t read them, let alone open them. I just sent them on to whatever department they’re meant for.” I nodded in response, and Richie continued. “The detective thinks I messed with his files, but I didn’t! I swear! I have no reason to…” Richie trailed off, getting distracted by his broken monitor littered over the office carpet. “I can’t believe he did that.” 

“Do you know anyone who would have a reason to alter Whittendon’s files?” Emily asked, making her way to the front of the group standing in the conference room doorway. 

Richie shook his head. “Look, I’m just the tech guy. I send emails and fix computers. I don’t get involved in all the office drama and crime stuff.” Emily and I made brief eye contact. How can you avoid the “crime stuff” while working in a police department?

“Anyway, I have a hell of a mess to clean up now… If you’ll excuse me…” Richie bent down to the floor, picking up shards of shattered monitor and trying to find any missing pieces that had gone askew on the floor. I sighed at the next dead lead. I made my way back to the team, and just as I started to rejoin the team in the conference room, Richie’s voice came from behind me. “Agent L/N?”

“Yeah, Richie?” I asked, turning around to face him. 

“You didn’t hear this from me, but I know Detective Andrews has been after Whittenson’s job for months,” Richie shifted nervously on his feet, looking around the office with paranoia evident in his eyes. 

I narrowed my eyes, and nodded. “Thank you, Richie. We’ll look into that.” So much for never partaking in water-cooler gossip. The young man nodded, continuing to pick up pieces of the monitor scattered on the floor.  

I rejoined the team in the conference room, shutting the door behind me once again. “Did you guys hear that?” I asked. 

“I did,” said Emily, “I’m getting Garcia on the phone right now.” Clicking her contact and turning her phone on speaker, Emily set her phone in the middle of the table. After two rings, a bubbly voice came over the other line. 

“Hello, my pretties. How is Denver?” Penelope said. I could almost hear the smile on her lips, and I felt a small smile cross my own face. 

“It’s okay, Garcia. We need your help,” Emily answered. 

There was a moment of silence as I heard Garcia click around on her computer before she spoke again, “I am at your service, my fine-feathered FBI friends. Tell me what you need to do.”

Emily spoke again, “We need details on a Detective Andrews at the Denver Police Department, preferably anything to do with a recent promotion that he may have missed out on.” I heard Penelope clicking away on her computer. 

“Uh-huh… anything else?” Penelope asked. 

“Not for now. Have you found anything off the bat?” Emily questioned. She crossed her arms in front of her, staring intently at the cell phone. Spencer sat at the head of the table, leg tapping in anticipation. 

“Sending it to your tablets now,” Penelope said. We all heard our tablets buzz from their respective positions on the conference room’s large table. Reaching forward, I opened the file Penelope had sent. A headline caught my attention first: “Detective Ryan Whittendon named Head Homicide Detective for Denver P.D.” I scanned the article quickly, looking for anything about Detective Andrews, when a line of text caught my eye: 

“The decision for who would take over as Head Detective was a struggle. The Department was forced to choose between Whittendon, who has served with the Department for 3 years, and Jason Andrews, who has been with the Department for nearly 15 years. The Department made its decision based on success rates of case-closed and input from other office employees.”

“Yikes,” I heard Spencer mumble. He set his tablet down, scanning the faces of our other team members. 

“No kidding,” said Rossi, “working here for 15 years and getting passed over for the newbie… I bet that didn’t go over well.”

“So what does this mean?” Luke asked, “Is this guy our unsub?” 

“I don’t know about that,” I piped up. “With over fifteen years in law enforcement, becoming a serial killer would require a major personality change.” Matt and Spencer nodded in agreement. 

I saw Rossi shrug. “You’d be surprised what people would do when they feel unappreciated. They feel unseen, and they lash out in any way they can to be seen,” he said. 

“Regardless,” Emily stepped in, “we need to meet with Jason Andrews immediately. Garcia, do you have his home address available?”

“Sending it to you now,” Penelope said again. “Be safe, my friends.” With that, Penelope’s end of the line went dead. Our tablets buzzed once again, this time with Andrews’ address. 

“Okay, here’s how we’re going to do this.” Emily paced around the room, formulating a plan. “Luke and Matt, you’re going to go pick up Jason Andrews. Bring him here and get him situated in an interview room. Spencer and Y/N, I want you to follow behind them as a back up team in case things get ugly when they try to bring Andrews in.” “You’ve got it, boss,” Luke said. He rose to his feet, as Matt followed suit. The two of them headed out the conference room door and exited the precinct. Spencer backed his seat away from the table, standing up and heading for the conference room door. 

“Y/N,” he said, “are you coming?” I stared straight ahead of me, not quite making out what he said. I had an uneasy feeling growing in my stomach. I was never one to be overly superstitious, but I did believe in my instinct, and I was almost never wrong. 

“I don’t know about this, Emily,” I said. She furrowed her brow, looking at me with concern. I was never one to question her decisions or turn down the chance to chase after a bad guy. 

“What’s wrong, L/N?” she asked, coming to rest a hand on my shoulder. 

“I just… I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling.” I felt Emily’s eyes rake over me before she looked at Spencer. The two made eye contact before they both looked back at me. “Y/N,” Spencer said again, leaning down so that we were eye level. “Nothing bad is going to happen. We’re just going to pick this guy up and bring him back here so we can talk to him.” The logical part of my brain knew he was right. The guy was a current police detective, surely there was no danger in that. 

“I- I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t know what’s come over me.” I stood from my seat. “Excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom before we go.” I exited the conference room without waiting for either of them to reply, brushing past Spencer and making quick work of the long hallway to the bathroom. I slipped in the door, and found myself staring deep into my own eyes. The reflection in the mirror seemed so foreign, so distant. 

I took deep breaths, collecting myself and drying my eyes with a paper towel before tears started to drip out of my eyes. After a couple more seconds of solitude, I left the bathroom, walking slowly back towards the conference room. The door was still cracked open, and I could hear muffled voices inside.

“I’m just worried about her. You know she isn’t fully over everything that happened, Spencer,” Emily’s voice spoke in a hushed volume. I creased my brow. Were they talking about me?

I heard Spencer sigh, followed by a long silence before he replied. “The whole thing messed us all up pretty bad. She’s better, just like we’re all doing better,” he said. The whole thing… Cat… Scratch… part of my life that felt like a pure hell. 

Emily spoke again, interrupting my thoughts, “I know, Spencer. You went through a lot, I went through a lot, but you have to acknowledge that she went through her own unique trauma as well.” You mean being psychologically tortured by a maniac before going through the physical trauma of a life-altering car accident? What’s unique about that?

“She’d only been a team member for six months when the two of you started dating. She’d only been here for a year when Cat forced her into that interrogation room and made her endure the whole night with you. Within hours of that, she was in that awful car crash with the rest of us…” Silence took over once more. “All I’m saying is, I know it’s been a few months since then, but those invisible wounds don’t heal in a few months. You should know that better than anyone.”

A long pause filled the room. I held my breath and kept silent outside the door, waiting for what would be spoken next. “Look,” Spencer broke the silence, “I know what she went through was horrendous and unfair. I think about it every day-” I heard his voice break a bit, bringing tears to my eyes once again. I heard him draw in a shaky breath before continuing, “But she is strong, and sidelining her is not going to make it any better. That’s what I do know.” 

I decided it was time to stop eavesdropping and to stop letting other people decide my fate. I stepped forward, pushing open the door. I took in Spencer’s glassy eyes, and Emily’s grip on the back of a conference room chair before he spoke. “Y/N, how long have you been out there?” he asked. 

“Long enough,” I gave a shy smile, a result of my embarrassment for having admitted to the eavesdropping. “Look guys,” I said, swapping my gaze back and forth between the two of them, “none of this is ever going to be easy for me. This past year has been a lot, but I’m moving forward. We all are, like Spencer said.” 

Emily let out an audible breath. “What I’m saying,” I started again, “is that Spencer is right. Sidelining me isn’t going to help me get any better. I know I have my weak moments, but I always come back. I just did, you see.” I gestured to the bathroom before gesturing to the conference room, “I always come back.” 

Spencer moved over to my side of the table. He reached out his hand, taking mine and offering a gentle squeeze as his show of support. “Now,” he said, “are we ready to go?” He asked it so quietly, as if he was afraid any force in his voice would break me to pieces. “I’m ready,” I said quietly, “it’s going to be fine.” 

“It’s going to be fine,” he echoed. I held his hand all the way out of the precinct to where Matt and Luke sat in their running SUV. 

“Where have you two lovebirds been?” Matt asked from the driver’s seat after rolling down his window.

“I had to use the bathroom, my bad!” I shouted back while jogging over to the passenger side of the second SUV. Spencer climbed in the driver’s seat while I slid into the passenger seat. Buckling our seatbelts, Spencer gave Matt a thumbs-up. Matt drove off, and we followed close behind. 

The ride was quiet for the first minute or so, but I could see Spencer shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “What’s wrong, Spence?” I asked, examining the way his hands fidgeted on the wheel.

He sighed. “I’m sorry if anything I said to Emily upset you,” he said apologetically. “I know we don’t like to talk about the things that happened. I just didn’t want her to bring it up in front of you and make you feel-”

You held a hand up, stopping him from saying more. “You’re right, Spencer. We don’t like to talk about it. Maybe someday we will, but for now, let’s just keep doing what we’re doing.” You offered him a small smile, a way of letting him know that you were okay. He didn’t say anything else, he just nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. You could tell that something else was bothering him, but you decided not to push the subject more. One of these days we’ll get there. 

The next ten minutes passed quickly as you pulled on to a quiet suburban street, Matt and Luke in the lead. Your pager buzzed and Matt’s voice echoed throughout the SUV. “Matt to Y/N, do you copy?”

“Copy, we’ve got you,” I replied. Matt and Luke brought the car to a stop in front of Andrews’ house. Spencer and I stayed parked a few houses back, watching to see if any back up would be needed. Luke jumped out of the car first, cautiously approaching the front step of the large brick house. They had no reason to believe Andrews was a real threat, but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

Matt followed a few steps behind, quickly hopping up the porch’s front steps, keeping a hand on his holstered weapon. It was nearing six in the morning as Luke knocked on the door, “Jason Andrews, FBI!”

Spencer and I watched in anticipation as to what would happen next. I froze as Luke knocked again. I listened over my radio as Luke’s voice rang out again, “Jason Andrews, we need to talk to you!” Suddenly, the front door swung open. A forty-something year old man in a robe stepped out on the front step with a cup of coffee in his hand. 

“Who the hell are you, and why are you on my porch at six in the morning?” Andrews asked, voice low and eyebrows raised in confusion. “My wife and kid are upstairs, keep it down.” I saw Matt and Luke’s shoulders release their tension. 

“We need you to come with us to the precinct to talk. It’s urgent.” Matt said. 

“That’s fine, just let me get dressed first,” Andrews turned back into the house as Luke and Matt waited on the porch. I let out a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, thank God,” I said. That wasn’t nearly as painful as I thought it was going to be. 

Spencer let out a quiet chuckle as Andrews stepped back out onto the porch in a full suit, climbing in the SUV with Matt and Luke. “See,” he said, “I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about this time.” 

This time… The words echoed in my mind, sending the same sickening feeling to my stomach. I didn’t respond as Spencer pulled away from the curb, following Matt and Luke back to the precinct

*  *  *

We returned to the local police department, where Luke and Matt left Andrews in an interrogation room before coming to join the rest of the team. We all sat in the conference room once again, blinds shut and door locked, contemplating our next move. 

“Okay,” Emily said, “I need your thoughts here, team. Who's going to interview him?” We all exchanged glances. 

Matt cleared his throat, “Seeing as how he did pretty well with Luke and I picking him up, I just figured we’d be on it.” Luke shrugged in response, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“I originally thought that, too,” Emily said, standing up from her spot at the table and reaching for a file she’d discarded on a shelf nearby. “That was until I read Andrews’ file.” I felt my eyebrows raise involuntarily. Reading someone’s file was a dangerous game to play, you never knew what you might find. 

“I wondered why Andrews didn’t win the popularity contest that went into becoming Head Homicide Detective,” Emily explained, as she flipped through pages, “but then I read this.” She sat a piece of paper in front of JJ, who began to read out loud. 

“Complaints of harassment against women: twenty-seven,” JJ cringed. “Good lord, how does this guy still work here?”

“So, Andrews is a raging sexist,” Luke said. 

Emily nodded. “Exactly, which is why we need a woman in the interrogation room.” JJ and I exchanged looks, as if to say ‘not it.’ “It will throw him off his game. He won’t be able to focus on lying if he’s focused on being a-”

“A douchebag?” Rossi finished for her. Emily nodded quickly. “Well,” Rossi started again, “who's it going to be?”

Matt chimed in again, “Why not send Y/N in? She’s quite a bit younger, I bet he’ll notice that too.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I often forgot about my age in relation to this group. Sure, I was only twenty-five and Matt had a point, but that didn’t make me love the idea any more. 

Spencer noticed my discomfort, “Why Y/N? JJ is more than capable.” I felt JJ’s eyes on me, as well as Rossi’s and Emily’s. I did not want to let anyone down, especially after the conversation I’d overheard between Spencer and Emily earlier in the morning. 

“No, Spence,” I said, rising from my seat and moving behind his chair. “I’m okay with it. I’ll go in with Luke, we can handle it together.” I tried to reassure him by placing my hands on his shoulders, but Spencer did not seem to relax under my touch. 

“Great,” Emily said, “I’m glad to hear it.” She handed Luke the file on Andrews to flip through before turning to me. “Don’t let him get the better of you. He’s going to be a jerk and I want you play along with him. Each time you do, you’ll be loosening his lips even more.”

She gave me a reassuring smile. I nodded, understanding what she wanted from me. Besides, I’ve been locked in interrogation rooms with worse people before.

To be continued!

[spiderwh0re]

hello again hollow knight side of tumblr!

hi! my name is Lotus, and I'm a silly little goober who's been lurking in this fandom since aroundish the time the game released! I like writing, cosplaying, gaming, and I am a digital + traditional artist!

my other blog that some of you may or may not be aware of is @pure-vessel-thoughts !

as we all wait for silksong (whether patiently or impatiently) I want to remind you that Team Cherry is putting their hearts and souls into this game just for all of us, so the wait WILL be worth it!

with that being said, I, like many others, am desperate for new content and friends who play or enjoy the game to the extent that I do! (it is seriously hard to find irl friends who like this game bro.)

so- seeing as I've been wanting to do streaming/videos for a few years anyway, I figured I'd put a poll up! I'm not a great gamer or speed runner by any means; in fact I'm laughably bad at the game despite years of playing; but I think it could be fun for us to all put on our red noses and climb into the delulu clown car together

I am still in classes, and I'm definitely still learning the ropes of streaming and video making, so I can't promise consistent streams or perfect quality either. BUT- I have been told that some people find me pretty funny (although it is somewhat dark or stupid humor) and I think this could help with my social anxiety and motivation!

-which leads me to the point of this post:

ps: if you've seen my AO3, no you haven't.

sidenote: you can also send me asks! I'm very friendly if not a bit shy, I don't bite unless it's out of love I swear

[go-to-the-mirror]

Hello, @a-mag-a-day. Apologies for the deception but I rather wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself. I'm assuming you're alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldn't try too hard to stop reading; there's every likelihood you'll just hurt yourself. So just listen. Now, shall we turn the page and try again?

Statement of landscaping-your-mind regarding episode 160 of The Magnus Archives.

Statement begins.

So, from all the stuff I scheduled for today you can probably tell I really like episode 160 of The Magnus Archives, right? Like, good lord, it is... it is a time. (Also, the words were really good (and also there's poetry) so :D incentive!)

Firstly, though, I have to say something. It's not the Watcher's Crown. The Watcher's Crown is the ritual Jonah Magnus attempted years ago. This is unnamed in canon, but Jonny said it could've been called The Magnus Archives.

Secondly... I would like to draw your attention towards the description of the youtube version of this episode. (to paraphrase)

The Magnus Archive discovers that some escapes are a lot easier than others.

Ahahahahaha AHAHAHAAHAHAH WHAT-

I hate this so much. Like, with a burning passion. "The Magnus Archives discovers that some escapes are a lot easier than others" COME TO MY HOME AND KILL ME YOU COWARD! It just hurts, it just... hurts.

He can escape London, but he can't escape his ✨ purpose ✨

You ever think about how The Magnus Archives follows the story of Magnus' Archive? I do. A lot. I haven't even started listening yet, god, this episode am I right?

MARTIN (Joking) Or, (huffed laugh) or it is, and she just cleaned it up really well. (They both make uncomfortable chuckles) ARCHIVIST …Yes. (The Archivist makes an uneasy noise)

THEYRE BOTH SO AWKWARD THEY HAVEN'T TALKED TO A NORMAL HUMAN IN OVER A YEAR

Just their really awkward laughter, oh my godd they're so endearing your honour, I'm so glad this episode and TMA ends at the 5 minute mark (< in denial)

ARCHIVIST Hopefully a long way out there. (soft) But I think we’re okay

THEY ARE IN LOVE YOUR HONOUR

I just love how soft Jon's voice gets around Martin, like, like, eeeee i just love them i love them they're the reason im aro bc i know i will never love someone romantically as much as jmart loves each other /j

MARTIN Oh, n-no, not yet. I was actually gonna head down into the village to go pick something up?

Ooooh yay I get to share my "where are they in scotland" headcanons! I think they're near Dunnet, because it's pretty far north and in the Highland area, and it's also got allegedly the only full time gunshop north of Inverness, and... yknow, it is Daisy's safehouse.

ARCHIVIST Anyway, don’t tell me the phonebox down there doesn’t appeal to your retro aesthetic.

your honour they're lightheartedly teasing each other <3

ARCHIVIST I’ll be fine.

SOFT!

(update im wrtinging with a cat on my lap now hes big. im balancing my computer on my leg.)

MARTIN I assume it’s her attempt at a- a, a varied diet? Eating your greens, you know? ARCHIVIST (Amused) Probably. (reassured) I’m sure it’ll work fine

hhh them <3 it's just like they're so... they're happy. they're so happy, and it's like nothing gold will stay or whatever

they had such a short amount of time

i wish they were ok

MARTIN …I will give you some privacy. Go for a walk. ARCHIVIST (Warmly) Let me know if you see any good cows. MARTIN Obviously I’m going to tell you if I see any good cows.

I'm...

them being happy is almost worse, right. because what once was a surprise we now know will happen, we have to deal with the dread, and it's all bitter now, the happiness is rotten because of what lurks after.

some people can listen to the first five minutes and feel okay, but me?

for me it just hurts.

ARCHIVIST (CONT’D) (Pleasantly) Statement of Hazel Rutter regarding a fire in her childhood home. Original statement given August 9th, 1992. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins.

He sounded so happy... he sounded so happy.

This is the first time he's happy before he reads a statement. He was happy, he was hiding from the police and the hunters and Daisy and Not!Sasha with his boyfriend in Scotland. And then, and then Jonah Magnus comes in and decides to end the world like a bastard.

I don't want to hit play. I don't want to know what comes next. I want to stop listening. I want Jon and Martin to be okay. I want it to be the real statement of Hazel Rutter.

I just want it to be the real statement of Hazel Rutter.

I get it, right, horror tragedy! This was the desired effect. I am supposed to be feeling these emotions. These emotions being very sad. Well done to Jonny, lovely writing. Fantastic! I love TMA with my whole heart. I think that it's fantastic. I don't want to hit play though. I'm here for the characters suffering, I got in through The Hermit Archives, I wanted more of the horror! I am here for suffering! I'm here for the suffering. I'm hitting play.

Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins.

He could have just ended the world. Like, the whole... forcing Jon to monologue about all the times he was manipulated into furthering Jonah's plan? That's fucked. That is fucked. Just put the ritual there you slimy piece of shit!

It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through the voice of another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious.

*me to my dog, in the "talking to a dog" voice* You wanna kill him too! Hey! You wanna kill him too!

Like, okay, so you're Jon and you're reading this statement and you can't stop, and this bastard says "you can't tell me you're not curious." Tell me that's not going to make him think that if he tried a little harder then he would've been able to stop reading. Tell me that's not going to make him think that a part of him wanted to end the world, and that's why he's still reading. Tell me that's not going to make him blame himself even more.

The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself.

He's so bloody arrogant. He puts himself above the entire world. It makes sense, he's from Regency era England, but like, it's still... really awful. Awful person.

Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?

When I fear death I distract myself, not try to end the world. Like, this guy is just so evil. His only redeeming quality is being funny sometimes.

Everyone dies, Jack Magnet, you just chose to be a bastard about it.

Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it, was born.

Right, so The Magnus Protocol's Magnus Institute was located in Manchester, and I'm not an expert on the geography of the United Kingdom, and basically know nothing about Manchester, bar that it has the... football, I want to say, team Manchester United? I don't know how I know that. But it seems as though Jonah Magnus didn't attempt his ritual, or attempted it some other way in that universe.

You see, the role of Archivist has been part of the Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers; most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain through lines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.

I wonder what the others are. The Dancer could be one - The Dancer in The Unknowing. I think Jonny said in a QnA, but you know, the author is dead, he's speaking to us posthumously, that The Architect could have been one. Not sure what others. If y'all have any ideas... 👀

More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt; but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life, and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.

Ok, Mr. Jonah "orchestrates twelve traumatising events for this one guy and gets him to end the world" Magnus. He cannot talk, he cannot talk at all. Sure, she sacrificed people, but she wasn't malicious. She did it for a cause. Did she believe she was good? I'm not sure she cared.

Jonah Magnus is just awful for his own self gain.

You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the panic of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral? Even those that seem to exist in direct opposition rely on each other for their definition as much as up relies on down. To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.

Gerry's colour explanation makes a lot of sense if you don't conceive of it as a traditional colour wheel. They're growing out in every direction, they all overlap with each other.

Sure, the fear of The Eye may seem in direct opposition to the fear of The Stranger, but let's take Jon, for instance. Is it not sort of Stranger to have some guy in a coffee shop staring at you with his autistic eyes, a person you don't know, but who definitely knows you?

What about the fear of The Buried and the fear of The Vast. Episode 195 covers that pretty handily. They're all interconnected with all of the others. Separating them makes them easier to understand (and invertedly makes them actually separated), but it isn't them, not truly. They are connected intrinsically.

Even the coffin! The fear of being alone in the dark is a part of the coffin.

Because the thing about the Archivist is that, well, it’s a bit of a misnomer. It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive. Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, Jon. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering dread of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you. You are a living chronicle of terror.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about this. The Archivist is something... defined by how they feed their patron, but The Archive is defined by how they've been hurt to bring it into the world. He's not defined by even a person-like role, he's something molded by Jonah Magnus' desires to end the world.

I wrote a little poem about it, which I shall share here, because I am cringe but I am free, unlike Jon. RIP

He's not a person with a name, He's a vessel of destruction, He's not a person who feels pain, It's necessary for production, That he's scarred and marked, By things that lurk in the dark, Believe himself useless, Or it'll be fruitless, And at the end of the day, He's no person, no name, He's a plan that has come to fruition.

Also, he calls himself The Archivist, perhaps viewing himself as... something that hurts others, rather than something that is hurt for a purpose.

I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but my god, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as a sort of implicit blessing on my whole project and, do you know what, I think it was.

"I chose you" "I'll admit, my options were somewhat limited" Mr. Magnet, he was chosen by the web. Jonah's just not afraid to be puppeted.

So, when Jane Prentiss attacked, I watched eagerly, one hand on the gas release from the start.

This line fucked me up. "One hand on the gas release from the start." Just... like it just sticks in my mind. How he held all their lives in the palm of his hand, how he let Sasha die, and Tim get eaten by worms, because he wanted his bloody perfect Archive.

One hand on the gas release from the start, while all of them almost - or did - die(d).

Like, what gets me is how fucked up Jon was afterwards, how he was asking everyone for their statements, shutting them up before they got to the part where they'd mention Jon and Tim getting eaten with worms. What gets me is how Elias was there and Jon was what, looked like a bloody mummy! He didn't have second thoughts when he saw...

He knew everything. He saw everything. He saw how fucked up Jon was over e v e r y t h i n g. (everything)

That's what gets me.

Between the stabbing and at least two desperate flights into its door, you’re marked very deep by the Spiral.

And, you know, the manipulation, the gaslighting, the betrayal. I saw an interesting post on this, but I can't seem to find it. I'll look in the posts I've rbed tagged TMA meta, I'll link it in a reblog if I find it.

Honestly, I had nothing to do with Melanie and her Slaughter adventure, but when I saw the situation, I made sure to trap her here, so whenever her rage bubbled over you were right there, a ready target.

You know after Jon's second kidnapping that could have totally been resolved how Jonah made Jon stand in front of Melanie while she wanted to kill Jonah with a knife, and how it's like oh, right, yeah, use Jon as a bloody meat shield to get her angry at him, make him the scapegoat, that was intentional. It was intentional to destroy everyone in the Archives' interpersonal relationships, and then have Jon. A ready target for hatred and vitriol.

How is Martin, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.

I think that Jonah Magnus should eat shit and die.

The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

If you replace the Ceaseless Watcher with Determination then it reads like an Undertale save.

* The power of Determination flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

Don’t worry, Jon. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made.

This also ties in with the above, I hate that he says "our victory" "the world that we have made." Jon didn't consent to this, Jon didn't want this, Jon was made to be an unwilling conduit of the apocolypse and Jonah Magnus is insinuating that he chose it, the victim blaming little prick!

You who watch and know and understand none. You who listen and hear and will not comprehend. You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right. Come to us in your wholeness. Come to us in your perfection. Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies! Come to us. I OPEN THE DOOR!

GREAT INCANTATION! 10/10! And it's actually recitable, unlike the TBI one.

ARCHIVIST Look at the sky, Martin. Look at the sky. It’s looking back.

That is a fucking fantastic final line of the episode. All of it, four seasons leading up to this moment. Look at the sky. It's looking back.

Fuck dude!

(The Archivist begins a fractured, delirious, humourless, laugh that does not end)

That laugh.

That laugh is just... haunting. I love it so much. It makes me want to cry. I used to have it saved on my phone and I'd just listen to it over and over and over again and get more and more disturbed and heartbroken.

That laugh. That broken, horrific laugh.

I can't get over it.

And thus ends season 4 of The Magnus Archives. With a broken laugh in front of a window, leading out to the doomed world.

Episode 160 is quite possibly my favourite metaplot episode of The Magnus Archives, the way the whole plan was revealed, the awful manipulations that were exposed... that laugh.

I leave you all to think on this. To think on the Archive née the Archivist née Jonathan Sims, laughing at the world he has unwillingly and unwittingly doomed.

Goodnight, a-mag-a-day, goodnight. /ref