#anyway this might be my favorite piece from this week

[valeriannnn]

Don't think you did me any fucking favors.

Wolcred Week 2024 Day 3: Light | Darkness

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Ima

The three times Wonwoo flirted with you, and the one where you finally realize it. 

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: none that I can think of, just some fluff

This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this reaction.

One

“I was wondering when you’d be in,” you say as the shop door opens. Wonwoo gives a light smile. 

“Miss me or something?” He saunters up to the counter. You roll your eyes. He’s in the game shop you manage every week, it seems. He likes to rent games from this shop. It’s a mystery why. You know what he does for work, you don’t live under a rock. He could buy all the games he wants. Still, he comes in to rent a game that you recommend, play it, and return it the next week with a report on what he thought. 

“How was it?” You pick up the case he’s slid onto the counter and scan it for the return. 

Wonwoo shrugs. “You were right. Could have been better.”

“I’m always right,” you chortle jokingly. 

“I believe you,” he muses from across the counter. “What do you have for me this week?” 

You pull a case from underneath the counter from the spot that is affectionately known as Wonwoo’s little hiding spot. It even has a little piece of tape on it with his name on it. Sometimes things stay there even if someone else asks for the item. Preferential treatment for your best customer after all. “The sequel. It’s better, I promise.” 

He reaches for his pocket, but you wave him off. You don’t need his card to pull up his account anymore. You nearly have the account number memorized anyway. You’re sliding the case across to him when the shop door opens again. There’s a certain demographic that needs more help than others in a store like this, and the middle aged mom looking blankly around the store certainly fits the bill. Wonwoo doesn’t linger so you can help the woman find what she needs. 

Two

“Well?” You ask from the back of the store. You don’t have to look at whose come in, you just know. 

“You were right, it was better,” Wonwoo voices from the next aisle over before peeking around the corner. “Shipment? Anything good?” 

“Yours are already at the front,” you tease. 

Wonwoo looks smug. “Say you thought of me as soon as you opened the shipment.”

“Of course, I did,” you laugh, plopping the last of the plushies onto the shelf. “In fact, one of them I only ordered because of you.” 

Wonwoo laughs as he takes the empty box from you and trails behind you to the counter. This is another little routine when he visits. He knows where the cardboard boxes go. He even breaks them down and takes them out back to recycling sometimes if you’re swamped. “You love me so much.”

You hum as you put his little stack of things on the counter. You process his return and check out the rentals to him. When you slide them to him, he slides them back. “Put them back in my hiding spot for a bit. I’ll take care of the boxes before I go.”

“Oh, Wonwoo, you don’t have to do that. I can take care of it later. I’m here all day.”

He brushed you off, stepping behind the counter and taking the box cutter from the drawer. “You work alone on Tuesdays and hate to lock up in the middle of the day or leave the store unattended. Just let me run and do it. It’ll take five minutes.”

He’s right. You hate working alone, but none of your part timers have any availability on Tuesdays. The woes of hiring college students with busy class schedules. You let him break down the boxes and take them out back. 

When he comes back in, you hand him a plushie on top of his games. He looks like he might fight you on it, but you insist. “You aren’t getting paid for how you help around here. Just take the free plushie, Wonwoo.” He relents, telling you he’ll see you next week. 

Three

You’re working in the back the next time Wonwoo comes in. One of your part timers interrupts you while you’re making the schedule. “Wonwoo’s here. What did you have in mind for him this time?” Wonwoo’s one of the store’s favorite customers, not just yours, but the part timers let you handle filling his stack underneath the counter. 

“I’ll be out in a minute,” you tell him, saving your work. When you see Wonwoo, you laugh, “Back again already? It’s only been a few days.” 

“What can I say? I missed you a little.” Wonwoo laughs. 

“What’d you think?” You ask, holding up one of the cases he’s returning.

“Great, actually. Do you have a copy I can buy?” He asks. 

You grin, pulling a brand new copy of the game from his little hiding spot. “Do I know you or what?”

“I guess so,” he agreed, grinning. When you scan the rentals you picked for him, he speaks up. “Can you extend the date for those? I’ll have to travel starting next week and they might be late.” 

You wave him off. “You know I’ll waive the fees for you. When have you ever been late before?” 

“Never. Otherwise, how would I see you?” He laughs, handing you his credit card for the new game. His phone rings as he’s signing the receipt and he quickly excuses himself. The shop door is closed before you pick up the receipt to put it in the register. For whatever reason, the receipt format has a tip line, despite never needing to tip someone at a game store. You’ve told corporate dozens of times that it confuses people, and you wish you’d pushed a little harder because Wonwoo’s left a totally unnecessary tip for the exact price of the plushie you gave him last week. He must have looked on the website to find out how much it cost.

You scoff, stuffing the receipt in the register. You’ll get him back for this somehow. 

Four

The next time he comes in, you’re standing on a stool to change a light bulb. He scoffs as his hands come around your calves to steady you. “Why didn’t you let someone taller do this for you?”

“Couldn’t wait. The bulb blew yesterday back here and no one’s in until Wednesday. You can’t even see the shelves without it,” you say, making absolutely no move to get off the stool until the job is done. “How was your trip?”

He hums. “Fine. Paris Fashion Week.”

“Ooo, fancy,” you chuckle. “What? You didn't enjoy one of the most romantic cities in the world?”

You can hear the smile in his voice even though he’s behind you. ��Eh. I’ve been before. Plus, you weren’t there.”

“Never been,” you say lightly. “All done!” You clap before trying to climb off the stool. You’re surprised when you’re suddenly in the air and even let out a little squeak. Wonwoo’s hands leave your waist as soon as your feet are back on the ground. “Thanks,” you say weakly.

He looks so fucking casual about it as he shrugs. “Didn’t want you to fall.” You’re abnormally flustered as you turn to go to the counter. You process his returns. It’s an old habit to pop open every case and do a once-over to the disc, even though you know Wonwoo’s never returned anything damaged. 

Inside the last case is a slip of paper with some numbers written on it. “Oh, did you leave this in here?” You pick it up and hold it out to him. 

He shakes his head. “Oh, no. That’s for you.” 

“It’s a phone number,” you say, confused. You’re even more confused when he bites back a grin. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s mine.” 

“… What?”

He’s still grinning. “I know it’s on my account, but you’ve never used it, so I thought I’d make myself clear.” 

“Do you… like me or something?” The words sound weird as they come out of your mouth. 

This makes him bark out a loud, slightly exasperated laugh. “Y/N, I flirt with you every single time I come in. It’s really the only reason I come in.” 

“Are you serious?” You stutter out.

“Yeah, I am. Not that it was getting me anywhere. I decided for a more direct approach this time. I missed you while I was traveling and having your phone number would have been nice.” 

You’re still so baffled at his confession and subsequent amusement that you’re a little robotic. “Oh… okay then.” 

“There’s really no pressure, Y/N.” He seems to mean it. He gestures behind the counter. “What do you have for me today?” 

“A couple older ones, not sure if you’ve played them before,” you say, totally distracted. He glances at the covers and shrugs. 

“I’ll take them,” he says simply. His phone rings and he steps away with an apology. The check out is complete within a few seconds, but you stall out, staring at the pen and post it notes next to the register. He sounds like he’s wrapping up his call, so you rush, scribbling on to the note and stuffing it inside one of the cases. When he approaches the counter again, he looks apologetic. “I’m sorry, I can’t stick around. That was work.” You wave him off and he’s almost out of the door when he turns around. “Really, no pressure, okay?” 

You nod, grinning to yourself when the door closes behind him. You stuff the little paper into your pocket and move on with work. Later that night, you’re locking up when you’re phone buzzes. You recognize the number from earlier and it makes you laugh. So does the message. 

‘I forgot how good this game is. You’re always right.’

[copinghex]

3:00 a.m in Birmingham | T.S

Summary: Tommy's wife has trouble sleeping and resorts to a method he disapproves of. As usual, he tries to solve this issue in his own ways.

A/N: I stopped frequently reposting old works because I thought "oh, I'm gonna work on new stuff now," and then I didn't. Anyway, this is one of my favorites

Tommy sighed in relief as he found her car parked in front of their old house at Watery Lane. He's been looking for her for hours and although her whereabouts weren't exactly mysterious, Tommy couldn't stop his hands from trembling with the possibility of her being gone.

The house was dark as usual, even if they had enough money for it, none of the Shelby's saw the point of paying for electricity for a house they barely went to, the only electric light came from the betting shop, since the business place was closed for the day, the house only counted with the light from streets that shined through the windows.

Thomas walked from each to each room looking for his wife until he finally got to their old shared bedroom. She was sitting on the bed staring at the wall, arms resting on her knees while her hands played with a bottle of something he couldn't identify.

"I thought you didn't like this bedroom," Tommy drawled, holding himself from scolding her, she might not be physically injured, but he knew she wouldn't run away if she was alright.

"I don't, it's too small,"

"Yeah, I don't like it either," Tommy agreed and sat by her side, "so we shouldn't be here,"

She peeked at him by the side of her eye and brought her hands near her chest, trying to hide the label of the bottle, "I needed a place to relax,"

"Oh, why didn't you try a spa?"

"Because in case you haven't noticed, it's three in the morning, we must be the only people awake in Birmingham," she humorlessly chuckled, "well, perhaps with exception of the night shift workers,"

"Right, but why here in all the places?"

"...It was our home for many years, I thought the feeling of familiarity would help me relax, help me sleep,"

Tommy arched his eyebrows at his wife's answer, she had problems sleeping for some time since the business started to grow and brought some consequences, but for the last few years he could swear she's been sleeping well, she's been even able to convince him to try to rest.

"You should see a doctor," he spoke softly with a bit of humour, usually, she was the one suggesting that.

"Nah, all doctors are children of rich people who don't actually care about people," she bitterly spat, it was an honest belief of her, however, there was another reason why she refused to see a doctor.

It was because she already did, during the busy weeks Tommy was barely home, she managed to sneak a doctor into the house and the diagnosis wasn't pleasant, stress was keeping her from a well-deserved night of sleep and the recommendation was to absent herself from any stressful situation. Well, being married to Thomas Shelby was very stressful.

She thought of taking a break, perhaps going on holiday with the children, every time Tommy got home though, he seemed to need her more, business related papers, loneliness, a stress relief, she filled all the gaps Tommy turned a blind eye through the day, because he was always sure she'd effortlessly fill them for him.

He needed her, he told her that many times, mostly not verbally, but the way his tired eyes bored into hers when he got home from work, the way his hands pulled her close to him and how he seemed lost when she didn't greet him at the door left no doubts, together with whiskey, opium and cigarettes, she kept the broken pieces of him tightly tied.

Hell, she knew the best she could do for herself was to leave him, Tommy was unstoppable, he had no limitations or limits, he'd never rest and he lived something near fine with it. She was different, she didn't mind doing paperwork or looking after the broken man she called husband, but she needed assurance things wouldn't fall apart at any moment, she needed to sleep knowing her empire wasn't built on unstable land and that was something Tommy couldn't offer.

Trying to solve this impasse, she bought sleeping pills, the strongest she could find. They worked well for the first two years, eventually she became immune to the effect, increasing the dose wasn't an option anymore either, it'd probably make her overdose instead of sleep.

Now, she was sitting near the cause of her insomnia in the old bedroom they shared, refusing to confess the true reason for her sleepless nights.

"What 's that?" Tommy suddenly asked, eyeing the bottle in her hands.

"Nothing,"

"Show me," he offered his hand for her to give him the flask.

"No,"

"What is it? A secret? Show me," he tried to take it from her hand and she pushed him away, "what the fuck are you hiding?"

"It's none of your business, did you come here only to bother me?" she complained.

"Worrying about you it's bothering now, eh? Give me that fucking thing," he forcefully took the bottle from her.

She pressed her lips together as Tommy read the label, "Did the doctor give them to you?"

"No,"

"Who did?"

"I bought them,"

"With whose prescription?"

"Nobody's, Tommy! I just take them to sleep,"

"These are fucking strong, did you take all of them?"

"Yeah,"

"How long have you been taking these things?" he frowned, insisting when she didn't answer, "Hm?"

"Two years,"

"Two fucking years? Does a doctor know about it?"

"What right do you have to scold me, Tom? Do you think I can't smell opium on you?"

"It's not the fucking same, these can be dangerous,"

"Oh, and yours are not?"

"For fuck's sake," he sighed and stood up, adopting a scolding posture, "why didn't you see a doctor?"

"I don't like doctors, Tommy,"

"Neither do I, but I'd see one if you asked, I know what I'm doing, it's what I always did, you got these pills out of nowhere and hid them from me,"

"I never hid them from you, if you got to bed a bit earlier you'd have seen me taking them!"

"Argh, sorry for not keeping an eye on you, you know I have so much free time," he said ironically, "why don't you go around saying how much of a bad husband I am?!"

"Well, I wouldn't be lying, would I?" she snapped, "I went to a doctor, Tommy! Do you wanna know what he told me?! To stay away from stressful things, but guess what? You stress me out, being by your side is stressful!"

Tommy gulped, assimilating the words his wife just told him, he was not by any means surprised by them, he knew it was all true, but he never expected her to throw them on his face like this.

"...you're with me by choice, if you're not happy, leave," his tone of voice was calm, but there was a dangerous challenge in it. After so long together, she doubted Tommy would accept a divorce, it was certain that when she died, the name Shelby would in her grave.

Besides, leaving Tommy was not her true wish, except for the lack of sleep, her life was comfortable, her child went to the best school, she wore the best clothes, drove the fastest cars and drank the best wine. Also, her love for Tommy was undeniable.

"I don't want to leave you," she mumbled, watching Tommy's tense expression change to relief, "but I need to sleep, I need to be alright so I can help you to be alright,"

"I don't want you to be with me for pity," he sat back down.

"It's not pity, I wouldn't be here if it was," she hesitated for a second before confessing, "I love you,"

He weakly smiled, still looking shaken by her previous harsh statement, Tommy always thought of himself as a not good enough husband, now she just crossed all the lines and defined him as a bad one.

"Tommy," she whispered, "nothing in this world would make me leave you, you won't get rid of me so easily,"

"Nothing?"

"Nothing, not even my sleep craving body,"

Tommy nodded, humorlessly chuckling, he stood up and took the car's keys from his pocket, "Let's go then,"

"I came with my own car,"

"I'll tell the driver to bring it home tomorrow, c'mon,"

As Tommy made the way to his car, she followed after him. It took a few minutes until they got on the road.

Tommy drove slowly, at this hour there was no one in the streets but them. The darkness of the night would have consumed the scenario if it wasn't for the car's headlights.

Despite the engine's noise, she relaxed, the car smelled of cigarettes and Tommy's cologne, it was a familiar scent and she felt safe sitting beside her husband. However, the unknown road Tommy was taking strokes an alert light in her head.

"This is not the way home," she warned.

"I know, I've thought of going somewhere else first," Tommy answered, secretly with no idea of where he was driving to, he only knew it wasn't home.

"Where?"

"You'll see when you get there,"

"I can't keep secrets from you but you can keep secrets from me?"

"It's not a secret, it's a surprise,"

"Tsk, I don't believe you set up a surprise at three in the morning,"

"Better believe,"

As the world got silent, she rested her head on his shoulder, allowing her eyes to close and her arms to wrap around his.

"You know, only this time I'll let you put your feet on the seat," Tommy spoke softly.

"Oh, such a gentleman," she took her heels off, "where are we going, Tom?" she peeked the road through her heavy eyelids.

"Right now I'm trying to find a rotary on the way home,"

"Where the fuck are we going anyway?"

"Just wait and see,"

"Go on, Tommy, quit the mystery,"

"Be patient, love."

She sighed in frustration and made herself even more comfortable in the car seat. The shakes caused by the bumpy road worked almost like motherly lulling.

Tommy's plan went exactly like he expected, his wife fell into deep slumber, this time without the need of any pills.

[tartagliove]

7:00pm

who knew that being friends with Kaveh meant befriending his friends—including the General Mahamatra?

cyno x reader ✧ 1.2k words fluff, mentions of a minor injury

If someone told you three months ago that you would be a regular guest at Kaveh and Alhaitham’s home, you would not believe them. But after working on a project with Kaveh, you have been slowly introduced to his friends, including the General Mahamatra. 

Cyno was intimidating and stoic at first, eyes of flame piercing through you. You struggled to talk to him, even in a group setting. His stoicism has not left, but you’ve learned to read him and are much more comfortable in his presence now.

Which is why you and Cyno are sitting across from each other at the living room table, stomachs full from dinner with your friends. Kaveh, Alhaitham, and Tighnari have moved into one of the studies to discuss something, but all your focus is on the Genius Invokation TCG cards and dice spread across the table. All the game pieces belong to Cyno. After you had asked him to teach you his favorite card game a week ago, he carefully curated a deck for you to start playing with so you could discover what playstyle you like before buying cards to form a deck of your own.

“I’ll use three Cryo points and have my Kaeya attack your Pyro Fatui agent with his skill.” You push three elemental dice toward the center of the table, then look up at Cyno. “I can do that, right?”

He inclines his head. “That falls within the rules of the game.”

“Oh, good.” You move to withdraw your hand, but Cyno’s eyes narrow and he quickly reaches out, fingers wrapping around your own. He pulls your hand toward himself, making you stretch a bit awkwardly over the table. “C-cyno?”

“You’re hurt,” he says. “What happened?”

You look down at your hand, held in his warm grasp. Dirty bandages wrap haphazardly around your pointer and middle fingers, tied in a messy knot at the end. Under Cyno’s sharp gaze, embarrassment makes your face hot at the sloppiness of your work.

“I scraped my knuckles while working on a project,” you tell him. “It was a bit hard to bandage everything up with only one hand.” 

Cyno lets go of your hand at your explanation. “I see.” 

You sit back in your chair, noticing how your hand suddenly feels colder. Blowing  out a breath, you look at the card game before you. “Anyway, it’s your move.”

Cyno is quick to have his Diluc card attack your Kaeya. But when you start thinking about how to retaliate, he stands up. “I’ll be back,” he says to the wide-eyed look you give him.

“Okay,” is all you manage to respond with before he leaves, walking into the study. You can hear his steady voice interrupting your friends’ conversation, though you can’t quite make out the words.

You try to turn your attention to the cards in front of you. There aren’t enough elemental dice with the right elements for you to use your cards’ special attacks, so…what was it that Cyno said you could do? You don’t remember. Sighing, you gingerly cross your arms on top of your cards and rest your head on them. Your eyes flutter shut.

“If you’re tired, we can end the game here and continue another time.”

Cyno’s reappearance surprises you into jolting upright, messing up your cards. You look down at them with a pout on your lips. “Yeah… I think I might need to head home and rest soon.”

Instead of sitting back down across from you, Cyno settles right next to you. He places a wooden box onto the table and flips open the lid, revealing a collection of bandages, small jars of salve and medicine, and cleaning alcohol.

“Wait, what-”

Cyno doesn’t let you fully express your confusion. “I’m dressing your wounds properly,” he states. He holds your gaze, unwavering stare letting you know that he will not budge on this.

You can’t help but squirm a little, eyes flickering away as you lift your hand and rest it on his outstretched one. His hand is warm and rough, calloused and scarred from all the battles he’s fought. Yet he is gentle as he unwraps your bandages, cleans your cuts, and carefully spreads a healing salve over them. 

The salve stings, but your attention is drawn to his long eyelashes as you study him. They cast a slight shadow onto his cheeks, although his bangs partially obscure one eye from view as he looks down at your hand. From the slight furrow between his brows, you assume that the limited vision bothers him. 

Without fully thinking about it, you brush his bangs back with your free hand, tucking the hair behind his ear. He looks up at the action, warm orange eyes meeting your own.

“I was just- you looked annoyed about your hair being in your eyes,” you explain. Your face burns under the indecipherable look that Cyno gives you.

“It did not bother me,” he says as he unravels a spool of bandages from the box. His fingers are nimble, deftly wrapping the white strips of cloth around your wounds in tidy loops. “I was concerned about your injuries; they’re worse than I thought they would be. You are skilled at your work, but please take care. If this happens again, tell me. I will bandage your wounds for you.”

Butterflies dance in your stomach. “O-okay, Cyno. You did take care of my cuts better than I could.” Looking down at your fingers, neat knots tie the two ends of each bandage together, ensuring that the cloth will not loosen as you work tomorrow. “Thank you,” you tell him softly. Then, because you don’t know if your heart can take any more of this—of being so close to him and tended to like something precious—you stand. “I should head home now.”

Cyno dips his head in acknowledgement and releases your hand. You immediately feel colder. He stands as well, tilting his head toward the door. “It’s late. Let me escort you home.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, you don’t have to do that! It’s only a bit after seven, and others are still here, after all.”

He shakes his head, grabbing his cloak from the back of his chair and sweeping it over his shoulders. “I insist. I will return later for my cards.”

Cyno, abandoning his Genius Invokation cards to walk you home? That is something you never dreamed of. Yet it makes you indescribably happy for reasons you are not quite ready to admit to yourself, so all you do is smile helplessly at his adamance. 

“Alright then,” you say as Cyno opens the front door, falling in beside you as you step out on the lamp-lit streets of Sumeru City. “Thank you for walking me home.”

Cyno acknowledges your thanks with a nod of his head. He stays by your side all the way to your home, where he waits to hear the lock turn behind you in your front door before he returns to Alhaitham’s home. As he walks alone, all he can think of is the feeling of your hand in his own.

He’d like to feel that again.

requested by @auraxins for my camping event. reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Crinkled Polaroids

Ex-boyfriend!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Hi my lovelies, Lia here and I'd just like to say that this took so long and so much effort, I really poured my heart out on this one and I hope it goes well. Recently my biggest heartbreaks are the "What ifs", what if you two worked it out? Would things be different? Would Simon have the life you've dreamed for the both of you and the one he's been deprived of?

You might be asking me "Lia, what's up with all the angsty content recently, aren't you a fluff dedicated blog?" Well I feel ill, I just got off an extremely busy week and most of my drafts have been never ending angst because I lost ideas of a domestic fam with Simon but I still need to get something out for you guys okay? A random bedtime scenario written down at 3am and for the rest of my midnights during a photoshoot and exam week, what could go wrong?

I'm still waiting on what my beloved @connorsui's review has to say 👀

Disclaimers/Warnings: This is not proofread, also ANGST.

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thesnowurzikdjinn @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000

A relationship with Simon Riley going south, at first it started great as most relationships do with several minor bumps due to his past but no big deal right?

But Simon distances himself, more than what's healthy and yes, you do give him his space but there's only little time until closing and distancing off for a while could turn into something like neglect.

Little things like "I love you"s, "thank you"s and every verbal affirmation that you used to think you could cling onto was now non-existent, it hurts but isn't as hurtful when he refuses to touch you.

Back hugs you give would only give you a cold shrug in return, kisses you left were on cold chapped lips that remain still. At this point, you were better off loving someone dead.. then again, aren't you already doing so?

The life you've imagined for the both of you cease to fade in your head as the true reality of the man you love sets in, that dumb idea your younger self who had rose tinted glasses had to actually settle down with someone in such a short period of time of a few years.

You felt so unappreciated, it seemed like no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get him to see you. You felt cheated of the relationship you were supposed to have with him when you see others with the one you love and how he acts around everyone except you. You felt like nothing but a chore to him, an occasional fuck who cleans his home.

Then again, this is a broken man, you felt entitled to ask such a thing of him when he himself is also just healing from what his past had caused.

In Simon's eyes, he was doing you a favor, fucked up in his part thinking hurting you is the best way to save you from himself. It worked, that's what he wanted.. right?

So you leave, it was best for the both of you anyway right? Simon deserves someone who could actually make him happy and you deserve to feel loved in a relationship. Simon's life was a mess, truly, but he didn't realize how much more of a mess it was without you.

Coming home to an empty shell of a house, nothing to look forward to. He found himself almost on the brink of insanity, moving things all over his own home as if you were still there.

Always finding himself staring at that one wornout and creased polaroid of you and him, you were a silly one huh? A hobby of yours that left so much proof of your existence.

Begging him to be in a picture, bribing him with a kiss. Slightly smudged and distorted but still legible pen ink at the back as he flips the flimsy piece of thick, shiny paper.

Keep him safe for me, Ghost.

- Your favorite girl <3

You always thought of him as Simon and Ghost as just an alter ego, a mask that he needs to wear in order to stomach the violence that comes with his occupation.

You were the only one who can differentiate these two people. Tears started to form in his eyes but he blinks it away and shoves the polaroid back in his wallet.

He only started noticing changes when Johnny points out that he's become stone cold, a lot more silent, though he was known to be a ghost.. a shadow.. it wasn't like him to not even try to light up his mood with his dark jokes.

Everytime Simon thinks he gets over the pain, there's always one thing in that stupid house that reminded him of you. You weren't there but it sure felt like that you haunted every corner of the house and his mind.

Whether that'd be something you gifted him or an item of yours left behind, especially when the two of you shared moments with those items, oftentimes Simon tries to relive those, preserve his fading memory of your face.

This is what happens when the decisions you make have consequences on the one that your world revolves around.

A few years down this lane, nothing has changed for Simon, at some part of this never ending low point in his life he was under substance abuse.. alcohol to be specific, since to him it was easier. In concern of his captain, he did get help for it to which had progress.

Ghost kept it together, "today was a day to celebrate Gaz" he thought, blowing out the nicotinic smoke and flicking the ash off his cigarette after.. he knew Ghost's thing was more of a "let's drink and play pool in a pub" rather than a sit-down dinner kind of guy but Kyle insisted.

He thought about how awkward it was, although Ghost felt like he knew Kyle's family just from the lovesick fool himself who would never shut up, always finding a way to talk about his wife and their two kids.

After another puff, he throws the cigarette butt on the pavement and grinds the sole of his shoe over it, the soft hiss for the cigarette evoking, proving it was put out.

Simon walked a few blocks till stopping at the Sergeant's described location, his footsteps made smooth, satisfying taps on the wood floorboards of the porch and he knocks.

Price took liberty of being the one to open the door for Simon because the family was busy, Simon walked through the front door with ease, seeing Johnny somewhat interacting with a kid.

He was welcomed by the a cozy looking space, it was homey and clearly occupied, the shoes lined up on the shoe rack next to the door from the largest pair to the tiniest which was such a far contrast from his empty gloomy apartment.

The kid caught glimpse of Simon, they run up to him and take his hand to guide him into the living room as of to welcome him before bringing back their attention to Johnny and somewhat messing with his stubby mohawk.

The lieutenant observed his surroundings, the little toys and picture frames hung around the house, for a moment his heart drops to his stomach, he blinks thinking he must've been imagining things. Simon walked closer to it, he wasn't imagining it.. that was you, in a wedding dress, in the photo with Kyle.

You looked glowing.. as if you've never looked better in your life, that heart stopping smile on your face, the flowery bouquet on your hands. The green of stems highlight the precious metal band on your finger. Of all the people, places and time, why here? Why now? Why Kyle..?

For a few seconds, just a few when Simon thought his nerves and gut settled, he heard the sweetest voice that was all he knew.

He forgot what it sounded like, the effect it had on him, all too overwhelming for a man who tried desperately to run away from the consequences of his actions. I guess that saying that once you don't hear someone's voice as frequently, you start to forget what they sound like.

For once, the ringing in his ear is gone. Just your voice, all he needed, he closed his eyes for a few soaking in the fact that you're here. For a moment he forgets to take into account that you weren't his. You and Simon make eye contact, the smile on your face drops as soon as you realize who is in your home.. who your husband invited..

Dinner came around, you tried your best to stomach the food you made, every swallow was a challenge. You spent most of your time staring at the food below you, afraid to even spare a glance at Simon. He was as uneasy as you were, telling the group he had to go to the bathroom as an excuse to explore what you now view as your home. The place you built your family together with your husband.

Simon uses the stealth he was known for to sneak in all the rooms, starting with the closest, the kitchen. The pictures on the fridge were enough to catch his attention, polaroids were something he was all too familiar with. Photos of the kids littered on the cold metal box with magnets others were of you and Kyle.

Everywhere he glances was proof of the life you built, the life you could've had together if he hadn't taken you for granted. Simon returned to the table a few minutes later, you easily notice the sudden drop of his mood to solemn.

Constantly closing his eyes, the lieutenant's head was spinning, taking in the fact that Garrick was able to settle down with you in those few years, the same amount of time you'd been together and you both were never close to achieving what you had now.

The night ended with the mens' satisfied stomachs while you and Kyle play-fight about who gets to do the dishes. As all of them were about to leave, you gathered what little guts you had to at least try to talk to Simon as he's the last one out the door, away from the ears of your husband who's currently doing the dishes because the last thing you'd want is to ruin their friendship.

"Goodbye Si.."

Simon never thought he'd hear that nickname out of your lips ever again, he stopped, his feet felt like they were sinking on the ground. Before he knew it, Simon was back on your porch, squeezing you so tight. You tried to pull away but he only held tighter, head rested on your shoulder.

"One last, lovie.. please.." you sigh, your arms wrapping around him, you tried your best to sooth him as your palm runs up and down his back. You felt the sleeve of your shirt getting damp, Simon didn't cry often, but this was different. It wasn't silent at all like you were used to, he was straight up sobbing.

Simon pulled back slowly, you saw his puffed up and flushed face against his pale skin. You felt bad for Simon however what happened is what happened and you were content where you were no matter how much pain the past brings you.

Simon knows you're happy, he sees it, he cups your cheek with his hand. He was about to lean in and kiss your forehead like he always used to but he stops himself.

He wanted to be selfish, he wanted you again but he can't do that to Kyle and he knows this would only upset you so just like before, with a heavy heart he leaves.

Simon will forever let that sink into his heart, the only one he's ever love will forever be engrained in his mind. You will always be his favorite girl..

[r0-boat]

Oooo I just read your dark whb headcanons. can you please write a scenario where satan is going through a depressive episode and he accidentally hits and breaks the MC’s jaw? his and his nobles reactions? they have to go to paradise lost to get it fixed. all the angst please 🙏

I was waiting to do this one for a while because I wanted to be in the right headspace for some angst.

These demons are nice to you but my favorite part of this game is that demons act like demons.

Anyways enough chit chat let's get to it

Whb Satan blinded by rage hurts you.

Cw: mc gets attacked by Satan, Satan gives in to Rage, depression, not eating or drinking, Violence against Reader, blood

Red. That's all he saw. Consumed by so much wrath He didn't even remember what caused him to be like this in the first place. All he remembers was hands holding him back and screams.

When he 'woke up' you were on the floor behind Leraye the normal happy Demon had a serious look in his eyes his teeth clenched as he stood firm as if waiting for something to happen. Sitri's arms holding him back. Sitri finally let him go and Satan crawled towards you. "Mc....B-baby? Are-are you ok? His voice shaking filled with fear, and worry. His claws painted red at the tips. You weren't moving , the panic started to set in. That's when he saw it. Blood and a bruised cheek... That was saying it lightly, The devil stumbled backward. Red eyes filled with pain his hands was shaking as he looked at them. He did this to you. That Scream was you, The realization almost made him throw up.

Leraye didn't want to oppose his king but he didn't want him to hurt you. And he didn't want you to die. So he was the one that contacted Lucifer... Sitri with all his strength held the rampaging King back. Demons have to remember that humans are more fragile than devils. If He got hurt he could just get back up with only minor redding But if Satan hit you???

When Lucifer heard about what had happened, He.Was.Pissed. He deemed that you were no longer safe in Gehenna. Normally Satan wouldn't give you up so easily, But he hurt you. How could he even face you? You were the last person he would ever want to hurt like this. Damn it. He was a monster. Sitri knew that Satan hurt you on accident. But He still hurt you. So he does not have an opinion. And he will gladly stop anyone who hurts you like that even his own king. You are unconscious, He thought you died! Only until, They all did Only until Sitri yelled "I still hear a beat!"

You stayed at Paradise lost under Lucifer's care while you recovered. Once you recovered he'll demand you stay for the time usually he would ask, but your life is in danger, and he does not trust what decision you make to be a sound one. Satan was lucky Lucifer allowed him from visiting altogether. But, the visits were supervised. Paimon did not like it that they were treating Satan as some kind of enraged beast. But he can't deny that he wouldn't have done the same if it was someone else's king.

Satan wants to see you but feel as though you would not want to see him. He still visits when you're unconscious. His hand still shakes out of fear he might accidentally hurt you again. He hadn't come out of his room since coming to see you. When he is not in his own bad, staring blankly at the wall, He is clawing up the walls of his room, his bed sheets, and his pillows are torn to pieces. The nobles had never heard their king strong and always smiling, cry.

Even if you want to see him when you finally recover.(constant checkups with Lucifer) Satan just avoids you for a while. Not returning your calls flat out ignoring you by text. Finally you caught that man out of his castle. And He doesn't even look you in the eye when you stand face to face. He still looks guilty, Looks like he's seen a ghost every time he looks at you. You can even see him grow some facial hair. And according to Sitri 'hasn't showered in weeks hasn't eaten a lot in days. And that this is the worst depressive episode he's ever seen from him.'

The other nobles are urging you two to talk again. They swear that Satan is never a demon to hurt you on purpose. And he swears it will never happen again. Seeing Satan in this state is breaking their hearts. But at the same time they would never force you to make that decision. And if you never wanted to see him again they will support you! Even act as your bodyguard just to make you feel safe.

The pain he feels every time he raises his hand, and you flinch is more painful than thousands of angels tearing into his flesh. He's supposed to protect you... Hurting you should have never happened. And he will never do it again.

Satan is terrified of touching you again. It would take a while for him do not feel scared about hurting you by just touching you. Now he's even more regretful that you had to see him like this. He's angry at himself for being like this.

If you force him to talk to you, he'll break down, he'll start tearing up, he'll hold you close, his voice broke as he sobs apology after apology. Nails digging into your clothes as he mutters that he hurt you. That he's no better than an angel. That he's scared that he thought you died and he killed you.

[discotitsposts]

but daddy, i hate you

when spencer recieves a birthday card from his estranged father you help him deal with his feelings

gets a little steamy at the end so 18+ recommended

this is how i deal w my own feelings lol

a little background: set in season 13-14. right before spencer’s birthday. you’re spencer’s wife, you’ve been together around 7 years. You work at the bookstore that you and spencer own. (he helps you run it and is co owner, you run it together) also, Spencer and you live in the apartment above the store.

It’s a beautiful Saturday morning and you’ve been going through boxes of new books for your store before you open for the day. It’s Spencer’s day off and he’s at the counter adding up the figures and making sure everything is in order for your busiest day of the week.

You hear a knock at the front door. “I’ll get it!” You yell to Spencer. You unlock the door and the mailman hands you your mail. “Thanks Jim, how’s Martha?” You ask him.

“She’s great, she’s dropping by later with cookies!”

“Cool! See you tomorrow!” You wave bye and start going through the mail.

“Hey, hon, there’s something for you from…” You stop when you read the name. William Reid. Spencer hadn’t seen nor heard from his father in almost 10 years. He was still very much angry about anything to do with his father. As were you. You couldn’t believe he hadn’t reached out at all.

“From who?” He asks, not looking up from the financial log. He puts his pencil down and reaches his hand out for you to hand him the envelope. You hesitate but hand it to him anyway.

You watch his face drop when he reads the name and address. Oh, how you wished to take the envelope out of his hands and hold him and tell him to forget that silly piece of paper forever. He peels the envelope open, careful not to touch the seal. He feels the dread fill his heart when he sees the contents. A card that says ‘Happy Birthday’ on the front, and ‘to a very special boy’ on the inside.

“What does he think I am? A fucking child?” He shouts, making you jump. “Sorry.” He apologizes and sighs.

“It’s alright, I’ll leave you alone with that.” You start to back away.

“No, don’t. Stay, please.” He begs with his beautiful eyes.

You nod and move closer. He begins reading the handwritten message on the inside of the card.

“Dear Spencer, Hope you’re not too upset with me, I am proud of you. We haven’t talked in a while, you haven’t called. You have the number. Don’t hesitate to reach out. How is Diana? Miss you. Happiest of Birthdays. Love, your father.” He reads it off, mocking every word.

“What the fuck! He hasn’t sent a card in 9 fucking years! Why now?” He raises his voice.

“I don’t..”

He cuts you off, “I’ll tell you why, because he’s either finally feeling bad about everything or he wants something. Well I won’t call him. I fucking hate him.”

“It’s a dick move to blame you for not reaching out, but honestly? Maybe you should, find out what he wants. If he honestly just wants to talk, it might be the closure you need. If he just wants something from you, you can tell him to fuck off. Obviously you don’t have to but maybe you should consider it. I know he was an asshole to you the last time, but you know I regretted not telling my father everything I wanted to say.” You’re watching your words, his father was a touchy subject.

He thinks for a minute and then sits back down and covers his face with his hands. “Maybe you’re right. You alright to open by yourself today? I think I’ll give him a call.”

“Yeah, go ahead. Good luck.”

He walks over to you and gives you a kiss and runs upstairs. He looked like a little kid who had just been given their favorite candy.

Later, when you’re closing the store for lunch break, you hear a loud crash from upstairs. You run upstairs, afraid Spencer had fallen and hurt himself. Worse. He was on the floor crying his eyes out. He had knocked the bookshelf over and he was surrounded by collapsed books.

You carefully step over the books to get to him.

“What happened?” You ask softly, so as to not startle him. He keeps crying into his hands but removes one to take your hand into his.

“I called, told him I received the card and I was willing to talk with him. I- I tried to…” His voice starts to trail off because he’s crying so hard he can’t speak. You rub his back reassuringly. “It’s ok, take your time.”

“I wanted to tell him, I’m married, and my life is going great. I didn’t even get to say anything. He stopped me and asked what card I was talking about. Turns out his new wife felt he should speak with his son, wrote the card and sent it to me. I should have known it wasn’t his handwriting.” He’s so tired from crying he just lays his head in your lap and stares.

“I’m so sorry love.” You say while running your fingers through his hair. Anger coursing through your veins.

“He hung up on me too.” His voice breaks as he says this. It has you fuming mad even more so. How could he do that? You could practically hear Spencer’s heart snapping in two.

He’s crushing your legs, so you convince him to stand up and have him go lay in bed with you. You cover him with the blankets and just hold him until he falls asleep.

You wake up a few hours later and he’s still asleep. You slyly grab his phone and write down William’s number. You take the paper, and your jacket downstairs.

You go to the store phone and as you’re dialing the number your stomach turns. Was this a good idea? After all I’m doing this for Spencer. You think as the line rings.

“Hello? Who is this?” A woman’s voice answers.

“Hello, is William Reid there?” Your voice quivers. You hear shuffling and the woman calls “Will! Phone!” in the background.

More shuffling. Then a man’s voice. “Who is this?” He says sternly.

“Hello, you don’t know me but I-“

“Then why are you calling me?”

“I’m your son’s wife, and I think we need to have a talk.”

“Spencer’s married?” He asks almost longingly. He sounded interested. Good.

“What kind of father are you? You don’t let him know you even want to be in his life and now all of a sudden you do? When he does finally reach out you hang up on him?”

“Ok that was because I went to go talk to my wife about why she sent my son a card from me.”

This goes on for a while, you yelling at Mr. Reid for his rude behavior.

The next morning you wake up to Spencer speaking to someone on the phone. Still groggy, you’re confused and mouth, ‘who is it?’

He holds up a finger to say hold on. He’s smiling. Maybe Prentiss is letting him take the next few days off!

“Alright bye! Love you!” He says into the phone, almost giddy. He hangs up and you tilt your head confused. He has the biggest grin on his adorable face.

“It was my dad. He was calling when I woke up. I can’t believe he reached out and he apologized! Can you believe it? He’s never really apologized to me before! We had a long talk, it was nice. Really nice.” He sits on the bed smiling.

“Is that so? Talk about a change of heart.” You smile to yourself knowing what you had done.

“You know what else he said?”

“What else did he say?”

“He said the little talking-to you gave him worked.” Spencer chuckles knowingly.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“No, I’m not upset. I actually am glad you did it. He wants to come and visit us. He wants to meet you too.” He pulls you into a big hug. “I love you. Thank you.” He kisses your neck.

“You’re welcome. I love you too.” You pull back and hold his face in your hand.

“Since you did me a favor, I think I owe you one. Lay back.” He gently spreads your legs apart and repays the favor to you. All day long.

the end 💞

it hurt me so bad to write spencer crying

to anyone who read this hope you enjoy! please don’t hesitate to leave feedback if you like this!

[ms-snape]

Snape propose reader right after end of the war. She is like.: You are alive ? But she say yes anyway.

Title: You're Alive

Warning: Kinda depressed reader....

Words Count: 1700+

A/N: Girllll, your requests are literally my favorites to write

Masterlist

---

It had been months since the war ended, but for Y/n, peace never truly came. While the rest of the wizarding world began to piece itself back together, she was trapped in a ceaseless cycle of grief and loss. Her days became repetitive, like a cruel loop, each one identical to the last, and every morning, when she forced herself out of bed, felt like another small act of survival. There was nothing left for her but the weight of an unspoken goodbye, a farewell she had never had the chance to utter.

Severus was dead.

The words echoed endlessly in her mind, like the tolling of a death bell. When she had first heard the news, it hadn’t felt real. It had come from Minerva, her voice soft and laden with sympathy, eyes full of sorrow as she delivered the news. Y/n had stood there, numb and silent, as Minerva explained what had happened in the Shrieking Shack. Severus had died alone, his body found hours later among the debris and bodies scattered across the battlefield.

He was gone.

For days after, Y/n had simply wandered through life like a ghost, unsure of where to place her grief. She barely remembered the days following his death—the endless condolences, the quiet murmurs of pity. The world continued to move around her, but it had lost its meaning. There were times she thought the grief might swallow her whole, that the crushing weight of it would pull her down into a pit she would never be able to climb out of.

She stopped seeing friends. Stopped talking to the people who reached out. What was the point? They couldn’t give her back what she had lost. She spent most of her time alone, secluded in her small cottage, where the silence was only broken by the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. The space she had once loved now felt like a tomb—its quietness amplifying the hollow ache inside her.

Her only solace came in the routine. Each morning, she rose before dawn, despite the ever-present exhaustion that clung to her bones. She would make herself a cup of tea that she rarely drank, then head out to the greenhouses. The plants there didn’t judge her, didn’t expect anything from her. They simply grew, day by day, providing her with something to nurture, something to keep her hands busy.

Tending to the plants had become a way to distract herself from the constant ache. In the quiet of the greenhouses, she would lose herself in the familiar rituals—watering, pruning, checking for pests. She would kneel in the dirt, feeling the earth between her fingers, grounding herself in the life that persisted around her. It was the only thing that seemed real anymore.

She remembered how Severus had once stood at the edge of the greenhouses, his dark eyes watching her as she worked. His expression had been unreadable, but she had known, even then, that he found some strange comfort in seeing her amidst the greenery, her hands busy with life. He never said as much, but she could always sense the unspoken bond between them, the way he softened just slightly in her presence.

But now… there was nothing. Just the emptiness where he used to be.

As the weeks passed, the numbness gave way to something darker—anger. How could he have left her? How could he have gone off to fight in the war and not come back? It wasn’t fair. She hated him for it, hated him for being so brave and selfless, for choosing to sacrifice himself when she had needed him most.

And yet, even in her anger, she missed him with a ferocity that bordered on madness. The memories of him consumed her—his quiet, sarcastic remarks, the way his lips twitched ever so slightly when he found something amusing. She would catch herself sometimes, expecting him to walk through the door, to hear the familiar creak of the floorboards under his boots, only to be met with silence.

The nights were the worst. Alone in her cold bed, she would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment they had spent together. She longed for the warmth of his body beside her, for the steady rhythm of his breathing in the dark. But those moments were gone now, like a dream she could never return to.

As time wore on, the others began to accept Severus’ death as an unfortunate but necessary casualty of war. They moved on. They rebuilt their lives. But Y/n couldn’t move forward. She was stuck in the past, trapped by the memory of what had been and the unbearable weight of what never would be.

It was a stormy evening when the impossible happened.

The rain had started in the late afternoon, a slow drizzle that steadily grew into a downpour. Y/n had finished her work in the greenhouses early, her head pounding from a persistent headache. She trudged through the rain, not bothering to cast a spell to shield herself from the wet. What did it matter? Nothing really mattered anymore.

As she approached her cottage, something caught her eye—a figure standing near the front door, half-hidden in the shadows.

For a moment, she froze, her heart stuttering painfully in her chest. She squinted through the rain, trying to make out who it could be. Her mind immediately leapt to the worst possibility—had something else happened? Was someone here to deliver more bad news?

But as she stepped closer, she saw the unmistakable silhouette of a tall man, his dark robes billowing slightly in the wind.

Her breath hitched.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Severus?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain pounding against the ground.

The figure turned, and in that moment, her world shattered and reassembled itself all at once.

It was him.

Severus Snape stood before her, alive and whole, his dark eyes staring at her with an unreadable expression.

She felt as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath her, her knees nearly buckling under the weight of the shock. She had spent months mourning him, months believing that he was gone forever. And yet here he was, standing in the rain like some ghost returned from the dead.

“You’re alive,” she breathed, her voice trembling with disbelief.

He nodded, his face pale and gaunt, but unmistakably real. “I am.”

For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her hands shaking violently. This was real. He was real. But how? Why hadn’t he come to her sooner?

“I—I thought you were dead,” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking. “I… I thought you were gone.”

Severus’ expression softened slightly, a rare crack in his usual stoic demeanor. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I didn’t mean for you to think that.”

Y/n shook her head, her emotions a chaotic storm inside her. She didn’t know whether to scream at him or collapse into his arms. Anger and relief warred within her, and she wasn’t sure which one would win.

“I waited for you,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I waited… for so long.”

Severus stepped closer, his dark eyes never leaving hers. He reached out, hesitant at first, then cupped her face in his hands. His touch was warm, solid, and the reality of it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’m here now,” he said softly.

Tears welled up in her eyes, the dam breaking after months of holding everything inside. She had been so strong, so determined not to let the grief consume her, but now, with him standing before her, the weight of it all was too much to bear.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Severus’ thumb brushed away the tears that slipped down her cheeks. “You didn’t.”

They stood like that for a long moment, the rain pouring down around them, soaking them both to the bone. But neither of them seemed to notice. The world had shrunk to just the two of them, the space between them charged with the weight of all that had been lost and found again.

And then, as if spurred by some unseen force, Severus reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, simple ring. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as he held it up, his dark eyes flickering with something she hadn’t seen in him for a long time—hope.

“I should have asked you this a long time ago,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… will you marry me?”

For a moment, Y/n couldn’t breathe. The question hung in the air between them, heavy and full of meaning. She stared at him, her mind racing, trying to process everything that had just happened. He was alive. He was asking her to marry him. It felt surreal, like a dream she was afraid she might wake up from at any moment.

She didn’t answer right away.

Severus’ expression shifted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He lowered the ring slightly, his grip tightening around it. “You don’t have to say yes,” he said quickly, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I understand if—”

“No,” Y/n interrupted, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. “No, I just… I need a moment.”

He watched her, his dark eyes searching hers for any sign of rejection. But Y/n wasn’t rejecting him—far from it. She was just trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she had mourned for months was standing here, asking her to spend the rest of her life with him.

And finally, after what felt like an eternity, she nodded, a small, teary smile breaking through her grief.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Severus’ face softened, and without another word, he slipped the ring onto her finger. It was simple, elegant—just like him. And as he pulled her into his arms, Y/n let herself collapse into him, her tears mixing with the rain as they clung to each other like lifelines.

For the first time in months, Y/n felt something other than grief.

She felt hope.

[laurashapiro-noreally]

Looking for something to read?

Oh look, it's another recs post! This time I'm featuring two stories per author. These are writers I always make time for, whose work stands out as unusually hot, clever, funny, or smart -- sometimes all of the above.

I'm gonna start you out strong with two by @werpiper: After Hours takes Aziraphale and Crowley to the baths after their oyster supper, and all sorts of interesting pleasures are there for our angel to sample. Piper's Crowley is one of my favorites: always evaluating the situation, not quite aware of what his own heart is doing but feeling it anyway.

Fitting In is a new story, still a WIP, but I am utterly tantalized by Muriel's first taste of love -- and tea. This is already rich in detail, soft and fragrant, and I can hardly wait for the action to get going in earnest. The pairing seems surprising but when you think about it for ten seconds of course it makes sense. Sex workers help the curious, the awkward, and the inexperienced every day, bless them.

If you enjoy these, check out @werpiper's back catalog -- they have done a ton of ineffables-through-the-ages, and their series Miracles and Heresy is worth many delightful hours of your time.

I love what @copperplatebeech has been doing lately:

He's Not My Friend is a T-rated story that explores Aziraphale's constant refusal to acknowledge his relationship with Crowley, and Crowley's mirror of that, and how things glacially shift over time. It is subtle and yet specific, it will make you ache and smile.

All Of The Above, also T-rated, is a warm and fuzzy alternative to that, a hilarious celebration of true friendship that made me laugh out loud and still got me right in the feels.

@copperplatebeech can do everything, from quiet, gentle, and romantic to devastating plotty AUs to extraordinarily horny established relationship to absolutely ridiculous humor. Do dive in if you haven't already.

Next up, @cumaeansibyl, master of kink:

better living through technology manages to shove everything I want in a dirty story into less than three thousand words: uptight Aziraphale reduced to sodden wreck, Crowley gleefully showing him what he's been missing, character-driven erotics, and exceptionally funny dialogue.

indulgentiam peccatorum nostrorum is somehow all that and more, turning the "I was wrong" dance into a kink (something I can't get enough of, recs welcome). This one is post-Bastille so it is extra-juicy. Mind the tags!

@cumaeansibyl has a gift for established relationship one-shots, which readers of mine will know are my entire jam. They also have a mind-meltingly hot inverse!omens AU that features different variations of angelic/demonic Crowleys and Aziraphales for our ineffables to play with.

A new-to-me author, Calico, has me hanging by a thread with their Ineffable Romans series. If you want to remember that your ineffables aren't human, that they are inordinately clever but very stupid, that the feelings they have for each other are truly beyond what anyone alive has ever felt, Calico may be the writer for you. This stuff is deep. Also hot af.

Sub Rosa reads like a nasty shag at Petronius', but there's so much more going on here. It is Extremely Queer, driven by power dynamics, and Crowley is fully demonic here and absolutely in control...or is he?

The Intemperance of Liber Pater continues on this theme, with dialogue-driven smut that reads less like a seduction than an inevitability. There's another story in this series, unfinished, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Last but not least: two short pieces by @ineffabildaddy. I stumbled on their stories just this week and I absolutely love their approach, which I've not seen done quite this way before.

take me as your wife has a tight first-person perspective as Crowley meets Aziraphale for a meal and imagines (or is it his imagination?) that Aziraphale is suggesting Certain Things about how they might occupy themselves later. Indeed, is he suggesting even more? Something about their relationship? Or is it all in Crowley's head?

Only in Dreams is kind of a companion piece, from Aziraphale's point of view -- though hundreds of years later. This one's set after the events of S2 and although just as romantic as take me as your wife, it also offers an ineffable take on the ol' glory hole concept. Just in case you thought I was getting soft. 😏

@ineffabildaddy has a whole series of poems and ficlets like these and I can't wait to explore them all.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Monster under the bed

Pairings: Monster!Eddie munson x fem!reader

Summary: After a long day of work, all you wanted to do was rest. Someone in your home has other plans, more specifically, something under your bed.

Warning: unprotected sex (monsters don't use condoms), Darkish theme, Teratophilia, oral sex(fem receiving), fear kink if you squint, slight rough sex, scratching, biting, mention of blood, monster!eddie likes you don't worry and you like him too. Eddie refers to you as Doll as a pet name. If I missed anything, please let me know nicely.

A/n: Not proofread. If these sort of au's bother you, don't read them. Yes I did hop on the monster fucker train. Fic is inspired by my favorite comic

Word count: 2.5k

18+ no minors

Your feet hurt as matter of fact your entire body hurts. Pulling extra shifts all week is starting to take a toll on your body. The only thing on your mind right now was your nice, comfy bed and sleep. You made your way up your apartment buildings stairs since the elevator was once again out. After climbing almost five flights of stairs, you finally reached your apartment door.

The first thing you did was strip yourself of every piece of clothing on your body, leaving you completely bare. You don't mind since you live alone anyway, and sleeping nude is just way more comfortable. You slide under the thick duvet and nestle deep into your pillow. You hope you're able to sleep much better tonight than you've been able to for the past few weeks.

There was this constant scraping noise that would happen only at certain times of the night. They were long, deep scratches, and you could never pinpoint exactly where they came from. Eventually, you just convinced yourself it was a rodent in your walls to help ease your mind.

The moment your head hit your pillow, sleep didn't take long to overcome you. Your breathing becomes steady as you drift deeper and deeper into sleep.

Scratch! Scratch! SCRATCH!

You jolt awake immediately, heart-pounding, and as your body is covered in a cold sweat. Tears brimming your eyes as the noise gets louder. The scratching sounds like it's coming from in front of your bed this time. Slowly, you crawl to peak over, and you see it. A very large stark white hand with claw like fingernails digging into the wooden floor.

Your mind tells you to run away and call the police do something.

Yet there you are frozen in place as another too large of a hand creeps from underneath your bed. Your mouth agape as you fall back on your elbows. You watch as a head slowly creeps and peaks up at you. He continues to rise carefully up until you see him..all of him.

His pale skin, almost glowing in the moonlight. His eyes are a dark crimson red, almost black. He opens his mouth slightly to reveal a set of fangs. His body littered in faded scars. Your mind still blank as you try to take in what is standing before you.

His eyes are staring down at you intensely. His features are soft yet hard at the same time. His nose is prominent, and his lips full. You can't help but think of him as attractive. Shaking your head at the thought, remembering that once again, you're in danger.

He slowly starts crawling his way up the bed until his face is mere inches away from your sex. Your mind keeps telling you to run away and go hide. He takes a deep breath, taking in your scent. Your fear and a hint of arousal fills his nostrils and a long serpent like tongue traces over his lips. That's when you noticed just how hungry he looked. His eyes boaring into yours as fear continues to take over your body. You can't move. You can't speak.

"Runaway."

"Go get help."

You repeated in your mind over and over again.

His face still hovering over your naked sex as drool from his mouth leaks down his chin. Your eyes swelling up with more tears as you realize this might be the last night you're alive. This thing, monster, creature, whatever he was, was going to probably eat you in your own home. A place that's supposed to keep you safe. He smirks up at you, bringing two large hands up to the back of your thighs, holding them open.

That's when you realize exactly what he wants to do. What he looks so hungry for and the thought sends a shock wave to your core. You hate yourself for thinking like this. You should be fighting him off and running as far away as possible. Yet you stay and spread your legs a little more wider for him as you feel yourself growing wetter. His long tongue carefully darts out, swiping along your wet fold.

Your breath hitches, and you try to crawl away, but it's no use he's too strong. He continues again and again lapping at your folds avoiding clit in the process. You go to reach out and tug on his hair but one of his large hands reaches out to grab both wrists. Your hips buck up involuntarily, as you're desperately looking for friction.

Tears are spilling down your face. You know this is wrong and shouldn't cave in, but you don't want it to stop. You're growing more hungry as his tongue continues to tease your pussy. He must have taken just small amount of pity on you when his plump lips latch on to your swollen clit suckling it gently.

The hand around your wrists finally lets go and moves it to roughly squeeze at your tits. You arch your back as you feel his tongue swirl around your clit as he begins sucking it harder. "Mmm fuck!"

He chuckles darkly against you as his eyes never cease to stop watching you squirm beneath him. The pure extacy etched on your face, enticing him to keep going. His mouth licks and sucks at your clit until he brings his serpent like tongue lower to tease at your entrance. He pushes it in inch by inch, easily splitting you open around the wet muscle. He hums as he tastes you on his tongue. Your thighs immediately go to squeeze around his head, but he roughly pushes them back as he grunts again.

You desperately pleaded. "Mmm!, keep going!"

He smiles, and you can just see a small flash of his fangs that you noticed earlier. His tongue plunged deep inside as he thrusts it in and out of your core. Your hands shoot immediately to his head, already becoming too overwhelmed with pleasure. "If this is what his tongue feels like you can't imagine what his cock would feel like" you thought to yourself.

He can feel your pussy clench around his tongue signaling that you're getting close. You claw at the sheets and yank at his hair roughly. He doesn't stop you this time as it seems to only spur him on even more. You begin grinding against his face allowing your clit to brush against his strong nose.

His tongue relentlessly pumped in your weeping pussy as you feel a tightness in your core building. He removes his tongue for a moment to focus solely on your aching clit sucking on it harshly . You cry out, and your legs begin to shake, as an intense amount of pleasure washes over you. His mouth never leaving your clit as he helps you ride out your orgasm.

"Aww, my little doll, you're trembling . Felt good, didn't it?" He spoke as his husky voice startles you at first.

Your body glistening in sweat as you come down from your high. Mind still foggy as you try to steady your breathing. Once you come to, you begin to think this was just some intense dream. That couldn't have been real. There is no way. A hand on your hip pulls you forward snapping you back to reality. Your eyes move and focus on this "person" in front of you. His once deep red eyes are now completely blown with lust. His chest heaving and his face coated in your juices.

He's staring at you almost like he's waiting for some approval. That's when you noticed it. His cock hard and thick the tip leaking with precum. He's aligned himself already at your entrance, but he seems to want your blessing first before gliding it in. His eyes looking to you and back to where his cock is positioned. You look up at his large form and nod. "I want you inside me."

"Oh, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you. " He smiles, flashing those fangs again before biting down on his lower lip.

His eyes closed at your words. He ran his cock in between your wet folds, lathering himself up in your juices. Your pussy fluttered at the mere size him. Taking a deep breath, preparing yourself for him to stretch you open. He pushes just the tip inside your entrance.

You gasped. "Ahh! Oh god!"

He stills and goes to pull away, but your legs wrap around his waist, desperately not wanting him to leave. His long curly hair falls in your face as he leans down closer to your neck. You looked him deep in his eyes. You weren't as scared as you were before.

You know, if he truly wanted to hurt you, he could have easily done it by now. His long tongue runs up the delicate flesh of your throat before biting down, causing a squeal to escape your mouth.

Your body feels like it's on fire. His breath against your throat makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. A shiver sends down your spine.

"What a pretty little sound. I want to hear it again." His voice is low and seductive in your ear. His tongue swiping over the bite mark he left behind. He sinks his teeth back into your skin, drawing just a small amount of blood.

"You taste so fucking sweet." He hums to himself. Everything about you tasted so good.

Your mind getting lost in the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth in your skin.

He continues biting and sucking at your neck as you bring your hands around to his strong back, digging your nails into his cold flesh. You dig your nails deeper and let out a sigh when he bites down on your pulse. You claw and leave bright red stratch marks down his back it doesn't seem to bother him.

"wanna--need to feel you inside me now." You continue to beg him not caring how desperate you sound.

"Patience doll, we're getting there." He cooed.

He sits back up, removing his weight from on top of you. He moves his hands to your waist long fingers digging into your skin. The tip of cock still gently nestled just slightly at your entrance. He pushes in slowly and stops to look at you. His eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort before continuing.

You choke back a cry at the intrusion. You've never had someone as big as him before, and you were worried you wouldn't be able to take him. He continues to push inch by inch working you open around his cock. You wiggle underneath him as you're growing more impatient and frustrated. You throw your head back against the pillow with a huff.

“Shh, just a little more." He reassured you with amusement etched in his tone as his thumb brushes your clit.

Why were you all of sudden forgetting exactly what was between your legs? He should terrify you, and yet you wish he will never leave. You try to stop thinking so much and focus strictly on the pleasure he's been giving you. His touches go from rough to soft, like he's reminded himself how fragile you are compared to him.

He continued to push in slowly until his cock disappeared into your body. You both let out a low groan at the feeling. He stays still allowing you to adjust to his size before pulling almost all the way out, and plunging back inside you. His heavy balls slapped into your ass with the harsh snap of his hips. His grip on your waist tightens as his claws break the skin just a little.

You immediately reach out, trying to grab a hold of him, but it's no use. His cock pumping in and out of your pussy as he sets a brutal pace. Your hands immediately go to cover your face as your body jolts with each powerful thrust. “Mine. All mine.” he growls down at you. The sound of slapping flesh echoes off the walls of your apartment.

"Oh, please don't stop." You chanted at him as your voice grew horse.

"Don't stop."Don't stop."

He bites down hard on his lip as he plunges deep into your tight pussy. You feel that tightness building up again and you reach down to play with your clit. He notices, and instead of stopping you, he snakes his tongue out of his mouth letting saliva drip down onto your sore bud. You reached down carefully rubbing soft tight circles around your clit.

He moves his hands to grab around your tits as his hips snap against yours. You begin to your rub clit faster causing you to clench around his cock. His breath hitches for a moment as he let a soft whimper at the feeling of you squeezing him tight. You begin rubbing your clit harder while his cock hits that sweet spot on your inner walls.

Your legs wrapped around him tighter as your second orgasm washes over you. You suck in a sharp breath as you throw your head back. Your body quivering and shaking from your release. His head hangs down, and his mouth parted, letting out low groans.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you. His thrusts are becoming more frantic. He gives his last few hard pumps of his cock before he’s shooting his hot cum inside your sensitive walls

"mmphf! Shit!." He cursed as he came deep inside you coating your walls with his cum.

He continued to pumping his cock milking himself of every last drop. His cum filling you up as it spills out and runs down the swell of your ass and onto your sheets. His balls coated in your slick and his cum making a mess of you both. He easily tried to pull out, making a loud schlick noise in his leave. You wince just a little at the loss of him inside you.

He collapses his heavy weight on top of you. Neither one is moving as your bodies are covered in sweat. His long, thick hair falling across your face. His back is covered in markings from your nails. Your body is sore and weak. You feel like your legs are made of jello, and there are tiny welts from his nails on your waist and thighs. Your neck littered in bite marks.

You both lay there for what feels like hours trying to catch your breath. Your minds are cloudy from bliss. He's has his face buried in your neck while you're trying to smooth down his thick hair a bit. He sits up slightly, smiling down at you. You came to the realization that you were never truly afraid of him. He was never something to be afraid of. He had every opportunity to hurt you, and yet he didn't. He never did because he had no desire to.

"My little doll." He whispered against your lips.

He kisses your lips gently before moving from on top of you to cover your body with your duvet. He tucks you in tightly and tenderly rubs the back of his hand against your face. Your eyes grow heavy, and your body is too weak to move.

You don't want him to leave, and he can sense that. He slowly eases his way down to retreat back under your bed. Your arm hanging over the side as you rolled to lay on your stomach. His large hand creeps back out to intertwin with your fingers as you both fall fast asleep.

[summercourtship]

𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖞 '𝖏𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖑𝖘𝖊𝖓' 𝖏𝖔𝖍𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖝 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 | 18+

I started writing this in fall 2020. At it's most ambitious, it was going to be a multi-chapter fic but that obviously didn't and won't happen so here: have it reimagined as a one-shot. You might be able to tell where it would have expanded into a larger story, but I tried to condense it. If anything that is here is eerily similar to something else I've written, it's because I've probably taken it from this draft lol. Also TBH I'm trying to not be as explicit in my sex scenes because I just feel more comfortable writing that way. Which seems like the opposite of a goal: for years, I've been trying to become better at writing super explicit scenes and now I'm trying to reel it in and make it (hopefully) match the rest of my prose. IDK. Happy Halloween!

brief summary: A one-shot about being stalked by your coworker who is also the serial killer terrorizing the town. warnings: slightly dubious consent due to threat of death, stalking, horror themes, knife play, PIV sex, some dirty talk | word count: 4025

danny 'jed olsen' johnson masterpost | read on ao3

You smell him before you see him. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and the unspecific musk of his cologne. On anyone else, you’d hate it. But with him, it’s become an almost comforting scent, indicative of one of your favorite people’s presence. When he rounds the corner and comes into your view, you can’t help the tiny smile that crosses your face.

“Hi Jed!” You chirp as he comes to a stop in front of your desk, placing his coffee on the corner of your desk to free his hands as he rummages in his side satchel bag. He gives you a smile in return, pulling out a thin file folder and flipping it open. 

“Here are those photos you wanted me to get,” He hands over a small stack of pictures, all developed and ready to go. Last week, you asked him to take the pictures on a whim, thinking you might just have to go down yourself with your crappy hand-me-down camera and snap a picture for the article you’re working on. But, to your surprise, he agreed quickly. 

The article isn’t anything special- in fact it’s quite the opposite. A filler piece for the middle section of the paper that no one really read. Despite this, you couldn’t bring yourself to bullshit the article, and still put forth an unnecessary amount of effort into the piece. No one would read it now, but perhaps it could be added to your portfolio for when you finally left this town. 

The photos are good- which isn’t a surprise considering who took them. Everything Jed did seemed to turn out well, even when he didn’t try. You wonder what he looks like doing something he’s actually passionate about.

“I didn’t think you’d have these ready so soon!” You say, flipping through the four pictures he handed over. You’d have to choose one- you’re lucky they’re even letting you include a picture in the meaningless article. “I mean, aren’t you busy with Ghostface?” 

He gives a small exhale, like he’s laughing at his own inside joke. “A little bit.” He pauses. “Maybe I wanted a break to go take some pictures of the duck pond in the park. Riveting stuff you’re writing about.”

“Excuse me, but the purported existence of an otter in the duck pond is very important news. Would be front-page worthy if there wasn’t someone else taking up the headlines.” You laugh before stopping for a moment, thinking about what you just said. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. People are dead and I’m making jokes about an otter.” 

“Don’t worry about it, everyone copes in different ways.” He smiles down at you. “Especially when you have no idea if you’re next.” 

“That’s morbid, but fair.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You don’t notice how his eyes flick to follow the movement. “Anyways, thanks again for the pictures. I will have to find a way to repay you.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles again, different this time. This is the smile that makes your stomach swoop and your heart skip a beat. Your face heats and you stop thinking for a second, but you press on.

“No, please-” 

“I wouldn’t want to put you out like that. Times are hard.” 

“I- okay.” You sit back, looking at him. He nods and starts to leave, but the part in you that insisted on somehow repaying him took over and you were speaking up once more.

“Jed!” He turns and looks back, eyebrows raised. “Um, at least let me take you out for coffee? Just as a thanks, not repayment.” He thinks about it for a moment, your heart racing as you wait with bated breath for his answer. If he didn’t say yes, you’d never be able to look at him again. You might have to leave town immediately.

“Sure, but let’s make it a date instead.” He gives you a tiny smile and a wink that you barely register, before turning and walking away. Giddy, you sit back in your chair, trying not to hide your face in your hands. Instead you focus on the pictures, flipping through them to distract yourself from the newfound excitement in your veins.

____

Despite the fact that there was a masked stalker-murderer prowling the streets of your town, you felt no fear walking home. Maybe it’s a remnant of your teenage “nothing can hurt me” years. Maybe it’s just your stupidity rearing its ugly head at the worst time. 

Or maybe you just like the thrill of it all.

You had listened to the warnings- check behind you when you walk, keep an eye out for anything abnormal, lock your windows, lock your doors, don’t hang out places alone. However, you followed them a little haphazardly. You didn’t engage in any behaviors that could be misconstrued as inviting danger into your life, but you also didn’t necessarily allow the paranoia to get to your head.

If you did, you might have died from sheer terror and helplessness. Or perhaps you would’ve been more careful, and would’ve definitely noticed that you had already unknowingly disregarded the warnings.

Someone was following you.

And they had been following you for a while.

____

You wake up suddenly. It’s like that sometimes- not gently, or gradually. You’re just... awake. Brain racing to catch up with your surroundings, you sit up. No clock around, but you’d hazard a guess that it’s somewhere around 3AM. Running a hand through your hair, you sigh, the dream you’d been having already disappearing from your memory. Plopping back onto your pillow, you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come back to you.

It’s funny how the air conditioning can sound like someone breathing, deep and slow. You vaguely register that something isn’t right here, but sleep takes over before you can linger on that thought. 

__

The best coffee shop in town is a small, cluttered shop off of the main road. It’s tucked away between a barbershop and a vintage store, far enough away from the main street that any tourists wouldn’t come by it. (Not that there were many of those now that a serial killer prowled the streets at night.)

“You okay?”

You look up from where you’d been staring into your coffee, even though it was probably too late in the day to be drinking it, the sky already darkening with the approaching evening. But your body was thick with exhaustion for reasons you weren’t quite sure and you needed to finish another pointless article when you went home. Jed had his own coffee, so at least you weren’t alone in your desire for evening caffeination. 

“Yeah, I’m just… trying to not psych myself out about everything going on. The news says it's good to be careful but I know I’d just end up taking it too far and becoming paranoid.” 

“No one knows how to deal with this.” He says, simply. You only nod in agreement and take a sip from the coffee. 

A breaking news report on the TV in the corner of the room catches your eye. GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN screams the caption at the bottom of the screen. You silently nudge Jed and direct his attention towards it. For a moment, it looks like the echo of a smile crosses his face, but it’s gone before you can truly absorb it. His face is stony, and he looks back at you. 

“Are you gonna write about that?” You ask. 

“Tomorrow.” 

“What number is this?”

“Six.” He answers without hesitation. You force yourself to take a deep breath to try and calm the beating of your heart. Every time the news breaks, it feels like the first time. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to hearing about another brutal murder, and maybe that’s a good thing. It means you aren’t desensitized to it yet. You only realize that Jed is watching you carefully when he asks, again: “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. Why are you so worried about me? You could be next too.”

“I think I can handle it if it comes to that.” He took a sip from his coffee to hide his smile. If you found this odd, you didn’t remark on it. “At least let me walk you home tonight.” 

You stared at him, unsure why you were suddenly uneasy, why an alarm was going off somewhere in the back of your head. Then you decided that it was stupid. You knew Jed. He took pictures of the duck pond for you. Hardly anything to be frightened by. 

“That would be nice, thanks.” 

___

After a week of waking up in the middle of the night, you were certain there was something else going on that your body was trying to tell you. When your eyes open, once again barely past two A.M., you sit up in your bed instead of trying to go back to sleep right away like you normally do. The shadows in your room seemed deeper tonight, your curtains blocking out most of the light from the street. 

You stare into the corner, hoping that the shape manifesting in the darkness was just your eyes playing tricks on you and you could go back to sleep. But you knew better. Slowly, your eyes adjust to the low light and you’re able to make out the dark figure standing in the shadows. 

“...Go away.” 

Slowly, with the creak of leather, the figure shook its head. You take a careful breath, trying not to let your fear show. But it must be palpable in the air, there's no way it wasn’t. 

“What do you want?” 

The headlights of a car driving by shined into your room for a brief second, illuminating the figure and the mask he wore like a bolt of lightning struck down outside. It only confirmed what you had been afraid of since you’d woken to see a dark shadow in your corner, as his mask was barely visible in the dark room. 

But it seems that Ghostface has, indeed, marked you as his next victim. 

You move, bolting out of bed. He must want to give chase because he lets you fling your door open and run down the hall, his steady footsteps following you. But he catches up to you quickly, his body slamming into yours and pressing you against the wall, his arms wrapping around your front. Before you can begin to struggle, the thin edge of a blade is pressed against your throat, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You can only respond with a choked cry.  

The hard length of his body presses against your back, a firm barrier between you and your freedom. He adjusts slightly, allowing you to feel the other hard length pressing against you, though you can only barely feel it through the layers of his outfit. But you know it’s there. 

You exhale shakily, and you don’t know if it's from fear or your own arousal. (Or both). 

His chest hits your back as he breathes, standing still with you as your mind tries to catch up with everything that has happened in the past few seconds.

“Let me go.” You whisper. His arms flex around you, squeezing slightly. “Please.”

To your surprise, his grip loosens. 

“Call the cops and I’ll skin you alive.” He hisses in your ear, his voice rough from the modulator he’s using. 

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing frozen in your hallway, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why wasn’t your blood splattered on the walls, why did he let you go?

Despite his warning, you did consider calling the cops. But really, what would they do? Ghostface was gone. There was no evidence aside from the thin line of red on your throat where he’d pressed the knife, and even that was fading quickly.

Instead, you return to your room, curling under the covers and staring at the wall until the room brightens with the dawn. 

___

You had no idea if Ghostface continued to watch you. You were certain he was. You’d come home to things in obviously different positions. It was like he was taunting you, begging you to do something about it.

You simply put the objects back where they belonged and continued about your day.  

___

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” Jed asks, a few dates later when you’re sitting on your couch with him and perched on the edge of the cushion, your muscles tense like you were about to take off running, and he seems so understanding in that moment that you almost blurt out what has been happening for the past two weeks. But fear takes a hold of you, and instead you simply shake your head. 

“No, no. There’s nothing.”

___

The second time you actually see Ghostface, you’re barely prepared for it. You knew, deep down, that he’d be back at some point and yet you were still surprised when you arrived home to an open window, your sheer curtains fluttering in the hot wind as the humidity from outside filled the room. 

You drop your bag, staring at the open window like it was a rabid animal that was going to attack. Then, slowly, you turn your head to the corner, where you can feel his eyes on you. 

Even though you can’t see his eyes through the mask, you can feel the moment you make eye contact with him. 

Ghostface starts walking towards you and you don’t know why you don’t move. The door is right behind you and yet you stand there, watching as he approaches you with slow and measured steps as the streetlight from outside glints off the knife he holds loosely in his hand. You swallow thickly. 

Then, when he’s only a step away and after you’ve had ample time to turn around and run away, he grabs the side of your head, his gloved hand threading through your hair. Finally, your brain catches up to your situation and you struggle against his hold. You vaguely register him shushing you from behind the mask but your heart is racing too fast in your ears to really pick up on it. 

As a response to your thrashing, he places the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, a silent threat that stills your movement. You stare at him, stuck between his knife and his hand. (You should’ve run, why didn’t you run?)

He clicks his tongue, the noise distorted by the voice modulator in his mask as he shakes his head.

“Be good for me, won’t you?”  

Something shifts-- maybe it’s the wind from the open window or maybe he leans in a fraction closer but you suddenly catch a whiff of his scent. He must’ve been covering it up with a heavier cologne in his previous visits, because you would have easily recognized this from the first visit. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and an unidentifiable musk of his (usual) cologne.

It’s like being dunked in ice cold water after a warm day in the sun. You stare up at Ghostface, your brain quickly piecing together all the things you hadn’t consciously picked up on. The coincidences, the hints, the tiny behaviors that reminded you, always, of someone else. 

You pull yourself out of his grip, and you don’t know if he expected you because you’re able to make it halfway across the room on shaky legs before he grabs you again. Your legs buckle beneath you at the force of his body against yours and he follows you to the floor, roughly turning you over so you’re laying on your back with him perched above you. 

Heart racing, you reach up and yank his mask off, too quick for him to react. You blink at him, confirming what you’d just figured out. What you’d known, really, this entire time.

“Jed.” 

For a second, his face is blank. Then, he starts to laugh, pressing his weight down on your body when you start to struggle again. 

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out. Was hoping you wouldn’t, really, but.” He shrugged. “Does it make you feel better, or worse, to know that you weren’t actually cheating on me?”

“I never did anything with Ghostf- you.”

“But I know you well enough to know that you wanted to. I felt how you pressed back against me that night when you first noticed me in your room.” He leans down, getting in your face. His eyes are so cold, not at all the eyes of the Jed Olsen you knew. Was that even his name, or was that a lie too? “Did you want Ghostface to hold you down and fuck you? Was Jed not cutting it out for you? You needed the big bad serial killer, didn’t you?” 

He places his gloved hand over your throat, noting how your breath catches. “Of course you did.” His hand moves down, laying over your left breast. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to actually touch you. It’s only then you notice the rhythm he’s keeping with his other hand, the one that’s still resting on the side of his leg. He’s feeling your heartbeat, though his eyes are locked onto yours. 

“I didn’t. I don’t.” 

“You say that, but-” He peers closer at your eyes. “Your eyes are telling me something else.” He leans back and smugly offers his explanation. “You know that eyes dilate when you’re sexually aroused.”

“I-” You swallow, falling silent. What can you say? Any denial would be a lie. He continues to look down on you, face passive. 

“I don’t want to kill you.” He interrupts your silence. Then he’s quiet. Thoughtful, almost. A glimmer of the Jed you knew coming through in his hesitation. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh-”

“But I can’t exactly let you go on knowing who I am.”

“...I won’t tell anyone.” He raises an eyebrow, looking like he might burst into laughter again. “Promise.”

What power did you have to promise something when you were the one under him, the memory of the edge of his knife still cold on your cheek? 

“Who would you tell?” He said, causing you to furrow your brow. “You think that Jed Olsen is my real name? I’ve thought through everything before you or anyone else could even try to.”

“But-”

“Why would I let you go, when your death will be so…” he leaned down again, his hips rolling slightly against yours. It’s achingly difficult not to press up against it. “...delicious?”

“I don’t want to die.” 

“None of you do.” He tutted. His hand that had been laying on your breast moves to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling the fabric up to expose your stomach. You shivered at the feeling of leather on your skin, goosebumps trailing after his fingers as he slid his hand back towards your breasts. 

“Front clasping bra.” He says under his breath, raising his eyebrows at you. “Were you expecting company?”

“No.” You glance down. You could offer an explanation like oh, it’s almost laundry day or I just like this bra, but you stay silent. Watching as he unclasps it.  

Jed- though that isn’t his name, is it?- removes his gloves, tossing them somewhere in your living room. You start to turn your head to see where they landed but he grabs your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him again. 

“Stay still.” 

It’s then that you notice his knife, back in his hand, and watch, with bated breath, as he drags the tip over the skin between your breasts, not hard enough to even sting. Down, under where your skin creases, back up around the right breast until he lays the blade flat against you. Your chest is rising and falling quickly with your breath, though you try to control it for fear of being nicked by the knife. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

He hums, tracing the point of the blade around your nipple and watching as it hardens. 

“Tell you what-” He moves the knife to the other breast. “-we can postpone your death.”

“And what do you want instead?” You ask, as if it wasn’t obvious from the way he was dragging his blade across your exposed chest or the obvious erection pressing against you when he rolled his hips. 

“I think you know.” He raised his eyebrows. Was there a choice? And even if you did have a choice where the option wasn’t death, would you choose any differently? 

He pinches your nipple, prompting a shaky acceptance from you. “Fine.” You barely bite back a please before he slides down your body, his hands running down your chest to the hem of your pants. The knife returns to cut off the button (unnecessarily) and he roughly pulls your pants down your legs, his nails scratching your skin. 

He slots himself between your legs, now with only the thin fabric of your underwear and his clothes separating him from you. Even that doesn’t last long, as he takes the side of your underwear and rips through it with the knife before doing the same to the other side, ripping the fabric away from your body. 

Leaning back, he starts to fiddle with the many belts and buckles around his waist. You watch, your legs falling apart slightly. His eyes drop to your core, his tongue darting out to lick his lip at the sight of your wet cunt. 

“For someone who seemed so averse to this, you’re pretty wet.” He comments. Before you can respond, he’s pushing into you, having pulled his cock from the complicated trappings of his outfit. 

You groan at the intrusion, the slight pinch of pain before you adjust as he continues to push into you. He gives you barely a moment to breathe before he pulls out and begins thrusting back into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts as he fills you, his cock thick in your cunt. You can only whimper in response, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. 

He pulls your leg up, placing it over his shoulder as he continues to fuck into you, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside of you. You curse, throwing your head back. You’re certain that you’ll have a rash on your back and ass from the carpet rubbing against your skin but the bursts of pleasure from his cock and his fingers are enough to distract you from that for the moment. 

“Come on, cum on my cock-” He grunts, his hips rutting down against you, his fingers pressing harder against your clit as he practically bullied your body into orgasming for him. Your back arched, hands flying to pull him down to you. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his cloak, scratching against the leather as he urges you on with whispered praise and degradation. 

With a final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you, low curses hissed through his teeth. 

You lay, chest heaving as he pulls out, wincing at the sudden feeling of emptiness. The sweat that covers your skin begins to cool. 

“Remember what I said last time about calling the cops.” 

You don’t respond, only clipping your bra back together and pulling your shirt back down over your chest. After all, what could the police do at this point? There were very few signs of a struggle in your apartment. And, as you found out the next day, Jed had gone out after and killed someone else. At best, the police wouldn’t believe that it had actually been Ghostface in your apartment. At worst, they’d think you were in on it. 

And, when you went into work the next day to find a dark polaroid picture of you, asleep, from a few weeks ago- before you’d even asked Jed to take those pictures of the duck pond- with a red heart scrawled at the bottom, you began to think that maybe the worst assumption wasn’t that far off anymore. 

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

I just made myself a cup of a new tea, one from a set that a friend sent me. I was super curious to try it with and without milk in it, so after I take a sip without, I'm going to add milk to my tea.

That may seem like such an inane little story to post on a blog, unless you have an eating disorder. I'm sure many of you know what a big deal milk in tea can be, and what an important act of self-love it is.

It was poured into many of our ears, approaching teenhood in the mid-2000's, not to "drink our calories." For those of us whose restriction was weight-based, many of us practiced filling ourselves with water, with our coffee black and unsweetened whether that was how we liked it or not, and with tea that never contained milk.

Like many people who've struggled with binge eating and with restriction, I struggle with creating anxiety-inducing rules about when is okay to eat, especially if I'm between meals and worrying if I should allow myself a snack, or if it's okay to quench my thirst with anything other than water. This is especially true between meals. For some reason my brain has accepted the "extra" caloric intake as part of a meal, but still balks at the idea of introducing these things independently into non-meal parts of the day. I would like to note that my chronic illness and my body's reaction to food has also influenced this weird relationship between me and my favorite treats, such as a piece of candy, or a beverage that might happen to contain a greater-than-zero calorie count.

But tonight, before bed, I want to try this tea. And it sounds like one that'd be super tasty with milk, as it has cocoa powder and vanilla in the blend. So I let my tea cool in the room with me as I type this, telling myself that I can get up and go back for milk after I taste it.

Now I have gone to the kitchen.

Now I have poured in a splash of milk and tasted. It's soy milk, as regular milk sometimes hurts my stomach and I don't want my sleep to be disrupted. Due to my chronic illness, this is still something I have to think about, and I'll be honest, I hate it. Things like this make it so hard to tell myself I can let go of my food fears, because my brain knows that some of my food fears will turn out to have validity, and so what if they all do?

Now I have poured in another splash. Tasted.

Now I have poured in a third, much larger splash. Tasted.

Oh, this is it. This tea tastes like a warm dessert. But now it's too cool, so I need to microwave it back to its best heat. I used to not want to microwave my food. As a teen I heard a hippie say that microwaves destroy the nutrients in your food because the radiation breaks down their molecular structure. This is absolutely false. In fact, it's been disproven that microwaves break down nutrients any more than other methods of heating food, but for a long time I believed it. And even after I learned the truth, I still found it hard to convince myself it was okay to use microwaves for a very long time.

I have just finished my tea in my room. I took the time to identify that I wanted it. I took the time to truly taste it in several different ways, consider how I felt I wanted it and bring it to those specifications. It wasn't planned for any specific time or day, but I agreed to give myself this the way I wanted it anyway. I've been drinking my coffee with milk every morning, too. I actually like black coffee, but I like it better with milk. And I give myself things throughout the day that I enjoy, to enhance my experience of my existence. Life is hard, and it's okay to allow yourself, to the fullest extent you can, the small joys that bring you through the day.

I wanted to share this with you. I hope you don't feel the crushing weight of morality when staring at a bottle of regular soda and the sugar-free, when you wake up with your morning coffee, when your self-care regimen includes a cup of tea. I hope you practice actively giving yourself the love you need this week. And I hope you give it to yourself exactly the way you need it.

[utilitycaster]

This question is entirely in good faith: I’m currently watching campaign 2 for the first time, and you’ve said multiple times that you are a mighty nein girlie above all else. I am enjoying it, I think it’s fun and characters are great. But I find myself preferring campaign 1 more. I know this is a minority opinion as everyone loves campaign 2, but I just can’t really find myself embracing it the same way. What is it that draws you about the MN?

So I do want to preface this with the statement that I think it’s extremely valid to prefer Campaign 1 to Campaign 2. Plenty of people whom I respect do! The Mighty Nein happen to appeal to a lot of my sensibilities specifically but I don’t expect it to appeal to everyone else in the same way.

I also want to note that while it's true Campaign 2 is the fan favorite, firstly, the correct response if you prefer something that isn't the fan favorite is to commend yourself on rarified taste, and secondly, statistics are a funny thing. It's worth remembering that what you see as the Critical Role Active Fandom mostly doesn't include people who dearly loved Campaign 1, didn't like Campaign 2, and drifted away entirely in 2018; whereas people who loved C2 and didn't click with C3 are a little more likely to be around just because it's been less time and because there's more non-main-campaign stuff to hang around for (ie, people who haven't kept up with C3 might still have watched EXU Calamity or Downfall, or might be interested in Midst or Candela stuff, or are hanging out for TLOVM/Nein Animated reasons). You are not seeing Every Person Who Ever Liked Critical Role; you're seeing this segment in time.

ANYWAY. Getting to the actual point, I think Campaign 2 is my favorite because I think I take a fairly holistic view of fiction. I have my favorite characters and ships and themes and all that, but it is difficult for me to enjoy something if I don't enjoy a significant portion of it. I can't just watch for one blorbo, because the character should feel deeply rooted in a world, and have a plot that engages with who they are. This is what drew me to D&D and actual play in the first place!

Campaign 2 is the CR campaign that, in my opinion, achieves this to the highest degree. Hilariously, if you see the campaigns as a trilogy, while usually the middle of a trilogy gets slammed for being all moving pieces and no resolution, that actually works out great for a D&D game. Campaign 1 had the responsibility of introducing an entire world that was being built as the game went on (and introducing the players to TTRPGs); Campaign 3 is the realization of all that plot set up. Campaign 2 gets to explore, build out the world, and delve into characters who are inextricable from their setting, and that's what I love.

I started with Campaign 2, but decided to start catching up on Campaign 1 concurrently as I watched C2 week to week, and I started this quite early and finished C1 in about 4-5 months, and I happen to remember that I watched C2 episode 12 and an early Briarwoods Arc C1 episode back to back, and at the time, I preferred Campaign 1. Campaign 1 has its rocky starts, but the cast had already found their characters (even if the mechanics were being ironed out still) and there were very clear tasks. Early Campaign 2, while I still enjoy it, has a lot of milling about and aimless fucking around, and, understandably, the cast is still figuring a lot out. If you put, say, the Nein in Alfield next to Vox Machina at the Briarwoods Banquet? Yeah, one of these is stronger.

The thing is, that aimless fucking around led to character moments, which is the absolute heart of why the Nein are my favorites, and why I think many others love them as well. Without a clear mission or benefactor, this party had to figure out an identity and what they wanted to do, and in doing so, we got incredible moments between pretty much every party member. Vox Machina has no shortage of incredible conversations, but, for example, Keyleth and Scanlan just straight up don't interact one-on-one very much. You can't point to something like that in the Nein. I also think the fact that none of the characters knew each other terribly well helped with this. I've brought that up to contrast with the bonds in Campaign 3; it's not a bad thing to have a person your character comes in with and knows well, but much as I adore a twins conversation, the reason those conversations are so good are because Vex and Vax both spend a lot of time with other people as well. With the Mighty Nein, everyone has to do that because really, with Yasha gone half the time and then with Molly's death early on, we've got Fjord and Jester (have known each other like a month longer than anyone else) and Caleb and Nott (six-ish months and they're both hiding a lot.)

I really do get if people prefer that Vox Machina has two clear missions (with plenty of fuck around time built in) to start, the show-stopping Briarwoods arc next, and then the Chroma Conclave, especially watching after the fact - I am not sure how C2 is if you binge it vs. watch week to week, and it may suffer from a binge watch whereas C1 honestly might benefit. But the payoff is so great; you do not get the interpersonal relationships the Nein eventually have with each other without that early need for them to set their own direction.

Moving on from there, I love the setting of Wildemount and how much slow travel there is (which, to be fair, Vox Machina didn't have because that was all pre-stream; the Nein started teleporting at level 9 and Campaign 1 starts with the party at level 8). I love, as I mentioned, how tied to the continent everyone is and how relevant that is to most of their stories. I do think Molly's abrupt and unfair death early in the story is a crucial part of who the Nein are, and serves as a defining moment that is impossible to replicate but is very meaningful to me.

Also, and this is getting into some very idiosyncratic stuff: I love wizards and clerics and paladins and we get all those. I like gruff or overly formal characters with tragic backstories and good hearts and that's most of the party (unsurprisingly, Vex and Percy, in that order, are my favorite VM members). As someone who is constantly fighting the "Dump WIS not INT" fight, the fact that the Mighty Nein is fairly smart and has multiple characters specifically interested in history and politics and lore is right up my alley (the twins and Percy and Scanlan in C1 serve a similar purpose, and the fact that C3 doesn't have anyone really like this...shows).

I also like that the Mighty Nein are never famous, and I think some people don't like that. For all they are heroes of the Dynasty and end up with connections in the Empire, they aren't council members or tied to anyone specific, and this floating mercenary nature means they are setting their own pace. The only part where I think things get frustrating after some of the rockier early days is when they're hunting down Obann, and that's only a few episodes. While Molly's death is a defining moment, what is honestly a more defining moment is a few episodes earlier, when they decide against the multiple institutionally-backed job offers and decide to take a couple of jobs that will get them out of the city. I think it was jarring for people used to Vox Machina, with their duties to the council of Tal'Dorei, who dedicated a third of their campaign to saving the continent from dragons; but the Mighty Nein's greatest duty is always to each other and to becoming better people. The focus is always on them. Yes there are fetch quests, yes there are NPCs who give them some unavoidable tasks, and yes people use the term "player agency" in weird ways all the time; but the Mighty Nein are, I think, the zenith of what a player agency driven campaign can be. The story is, above all else, theirs and theirs alone.

I don't know if there will be a Campaign 4 - I'm a bit more sanguine about the prospect than I was earlier in C3 - but for what it's worth I don't think Campaign 2 is irreplicable. Or rather, it can't be replicated, obviously, but I think they could do another campaign that is deeply tied to its setting and lets the party choose their own adventure in the same way. It just takes a little more prep up front, and a little more flexibility once it actually starts. If there is a campaign 4, I really hope they do it in that same style.

[wands-natsthing]

Not Enough Pt2

This story was on my old acct @wandanatsthings I made a new one (aka this one) which will be the acct I use from now on.

Hey guys I'm so sorry this took so long to get out I hope you all haven’t lost interest lol. I wanted to take my time with this one because I just felt like my writing could be a lot better and I really feel like with this little one-shot or imagine or whatever you call it it has improved and I’d rather you guys wait a while for a more well written piece than to most more frequent and it be shit but anyways I hope you enjoy this I kinda just went all over the place with it so please let me know what you think. 

"Not Enough pt 1

Disclaimer: I used  “A few weeks” a lot to measure time in this but to give a little bit of an idea  it’s been a few months since Piet died (so like 5 months) and like 3 months maybe since reader and Wanda broke up. Also the age gap between Nat and Wanda is like 5 years. I cannot remember if I mentioned that or not. Okie I think that's it. 

P.S: I love it when you guys comment so if ya wanna I’d love to read them and If you have any questions about this fic like my thought process while writing please ask them!!

Warnings: Mentions past character death, grief, cheating, mentions of sex but not descriptive, angst, mental illness, break downs, lying. I think that’s please let me know if you see anymore. 

Relationships: WandaxNatasha, Wanda/ reader, platonic Bruce x Natasha, Platonic Bruce x Wanda

Summary: Not Enough Pt 2 

Word count: 4.1k (My longest fic as of rn) 

Y/N Pov

It had been a few weeks since you and Wanda broke up. You had moved all of your stuff out of your shared room into a guess not being able to stand being in there after everything that had happened.

You weren't doing well. You couldn't sleep, you couldn't eat, all you could think about was Wanda.

All you wanted was her. It was still hard for you to grasp. You couldn't believe she had cheated. It still just didn’t seem like something she would do. Your sweet Wanda. The one who always made sure you knew how much she loved you no matter what.

The Wanda that never let you both go to bed angry, The one that would always tell you she loved you before going to sleep, Or on the rare occasions when you left the house without one another. So to say you were distraught that she did something like this was an understatement.

Either way, you didn’t want to see her. You had been avoiding her at all costs. You were doing a good job until you saw her in the common area of the compound hanging out with Natasha.

You had mixed feelings about the woman.

Yes, she was the woman that your girlfriend had cheated on you with, but you felt there was something off.

Natasha was a bit older than Wanda, not by much, only 5 years but still, you couldn’t help but think maybe the older woman had taken advantage of Wanda’s vulnerable state.

You didn't put much thought into it though.

you decided that you were no longer interested in hanging out in the common room after spotting the couple. In a hurry, you turned and went back to your room, completely oblivious to the fact that the younger redhead had noticed you. You missed the longing and regretful look that she had in her eyes.

Wanda’s Pov

I watched you as you went back to what I assumed to be your room. Even though I was the one to break up with you. I missed you, being with Natasha was no longer making me as happy as I thought. Especially after I found out she had lied to me about what happened during the mission when Pietro died.

It was a few weeks before You and I had broken up when she approached me in the kitchen after not leaving what was our shared bedroom for days.

FLASHBACK (of Natasha telling what “Happened”)

We had just finished watching my favorite sitcom, which Pietro and I used to watch all the time. You were doing everything you could to make me feel better, and even though I might not have been showing it, you were helping. I had finally felt well enough to sit in the kitchen for a while and have a snack, which was something I had been struggling to do. So Progress was being made.

As I was eating my snack of apples and peanut butter, Natasha approached me. We didn't talk often, but we weren't strangers to each other. I was quite fond of the fellow avenger. "Hey, how are you doing?" she asked as she took a seat next to me. "I'm doing better," I replied, smiling slightly, looking up at her.

"That's good. And how are you and y/n doing?" I found it odd that she was asking about our relationship, but I answered her anyway. "Um, I mean we're okay. We could be doing better, but considering the circumstances, I'd say we're doing pretty well," I said wearily. She looked at me and nodded.

"That's good. Knowing she killed your brother and all." she claimed with what I now know to be a look of “evil” on her face. What she said shocked me.

“Wait what? What are you talking about y/n didn’t kill him? It was an accident, she told me what happened.” I replied getting defensive not liking what she was trying to accuse you of.

“Yeah, but I saw it. Whatever she told you is a lie.”

“Well, what did you see?” I asked, curious to know what she had seen.

She then goes on to tell me how she saw you and Pietro that day in the field fighting bots. For the most part, she told me the same thing you did. Until she added the part where you started fighting each other. “And then they just started fighting each other, I don’t know why. Maybe Y/n got hit in the head or something and started to think that Piet was one of the bots. He tried to knock some sense into her but it just didn’t work and eventually, she pulled out her gun and shot him. I guessed he just wasn’t quick enough to dodge it.” She revealed.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Oh my goodness, Why wouldn't she tell me that? Why would she lie?” I cried looking for some sort of answers.

“I mean I don't know, think about it. Would you want to tell your girlfriend you killed her brother?”

What she said made sense to me, I could understand why you wouldn’t tell me but that wasn’t the relationship we had created. We were always very honest with each other from the beginning no matter what the circumstances were.

Heartbroken with the new knowledge I had just learned I still had one question.

“What were you doing? Why didn’t you stop them or help? Or something?” I desperately questioned.

Natasha shuffled in her seat a little before she answered me.

“I tried but I was busy fighting and helping get civilians to safety myself.”

I nodded at that understanding her reasoning.

END FLASHBACK

After our talk that day we continued getting to know each other more and more and I was drawing myself farther and farther away from you. I did feel bad about it but not bad enough to stop. I wanted you to feel the same pain that I felt when I thought you lied about what happened.

It wasn't until a few days after we broke up that Natasha's true colors started to show.

At the beginning of our relationship, Natasha tried to make me happy in her own way, much like you did. However, while you focused on letting me know that it was okay to feel my emotions and cry, Natasha often brushed me off and tried to distract me with sex. When I declined, saying that I wasn't in the mood, she would get irritable and act off for the rest of the day.

That’s what happened the day I found out that you were telling the truth about what happened during the mission.

FLASHBACK

I was having a bad day, which was as expected every once in a while. I knew some would be harder than others, but I had been improving and not struggling with basic tasks every day, today was an exception though.

All I wanted to do was stay in bed and watch the old sitcoms Piet and I used to but Natasha wasn’t having that.

All she wanted to do was have a beep. She kept begging me all day and getting pissy every time I would say no.

I was getting tired of it so I thought as a distraction now would be a good time to finally get my mission report done for that mission.

I had been given some grace given everything that happened but I wasn’t excluded completely.

I made my way down the hall to the conference room where everyone does their mission reports or papers of the same sort.

When I got there I saw a few pens and other unfinished reports scattered on the rectangular wooden table. I was going to let them be until I saw Natasha's report sitting there among the others. Curious about what she had written, I decided to read it.

Reading other people's reports wasn't forbidden but it was considered as an invasion of privacy, so I knew I shouldn't do it but I just couldn't help myself for some reason.

While I was reading the report, I realized that some information was missing.

None of the things she had told me that day were mentioned in the report. I was sure that it wasn't because she had not finished it yet. She never left the room until it was completed, and I knew that she would never lie in a report. That only meant one thing.

she had lied to me.

I was confused as to why she would lie to me, knowing that it would break us up. I knew the only way to know the truth was to ask her. So, I left the room with her report in my hands, forgetting about my report that needed to be completed.

I headed towards the training room, knowing that's where she would be. Before I approached her, I hid her report behind my back, not wanting her to know that I had read it just yet.

When I walked in, she was bench pressing. "Hey, can we talk?" I asked with urgency. "Can it wait? I'm in the middle of a set," she said, breathing hard. "No, it needs to be now, it's important," I replied, losing my patience.

She re-racked the bar, sat up, and wiped the sweat from her face. "What's up?" I took a deep breath and tried to remain calm, not wanting to cause a scene. "Can you tell me what happened that day on the mission when Piet died again?" She looked at me and rolled her eyes. "I've already told you what happened, why do you want to keep hearing it?" She asked, sounding annoyed. "Because I just want to know the truth," I replied. "Well, I already told you the truth," she answered. I nodded, "That's funny, so what would this be then?" I asked as I pulled the mission report out from behind my back.

The look on her face was priceless," I thought to myself. "Where did you find that?" she asked with a look of guilt on her face. "It doesn't matter where I found it, what matters is why you lied to me!" I cried, hitting her chest with my hands.

She gently grabbed my hands to stop my attack and took a deep breath before explaining something I never thought would be her reasoning. "I lied because I wanted to break the two of you up. You both seemed so happy, even with everything, and I wanted to experience that for myself. I wanted to feel special. And I knew that if I lied, you would believe me because people who are grieving are more likely to believe a lie than people who are not."

I was shocked by what I heard and even more so to see her crying, something I had never seen her do in the year I had been living here. Even though what she did was severely messed up, I could understand why she would do it. We had similar life experiences, and in our lifestyle, what you and I had was rare.

While I could understand, I was still very upset that she would even do something like that and that I would even believe you would lie to me. All that was on my mind at this moment was you. I had to get to you and explain everything, even if you didn’t believe me and never wanted to speak with me again. It was important to me that you knew the truth.

“I have to go,” I sobbed, taking my hands out of her embrace. “I need to explain everything to y/n.” However, that thought was short-lived.

“No, NO! Please don’t leave me,” she begged as she walked me back into a wall. “I need you. I'll do better at anything. Everything, just please don’t leave me.”

I could feel her emotions through me, and they almost became too much. It felt so weird to see her like this. One of the most powerful Avengers, who I looked up to, was begging me on her knees to stay with her. It showed how you could have everything in the world, but if you didn’t have anyone to love or be loved by, you were absolutely nothing.

Feeling for her I decide to comfort her now and talk about everything else later. “Okay, okay I'll stay, I won’t leave I promise.”

END FLASHBACK

"I had been dealing with this for a couple of weeks.

Whenever I confronted her, she would break down and plead with me not to leave her. But after seeing the sorrowful look in your eyes as you walked past the common room, I couldn't bear the thought of you not knowing what happened any longer. So, I decided to talk to you. I got up, leaving Natasha sitting on the couch, and told her that I was going to the bathroom.

As I made my way to your room, I could feel my heart beating loudly in my chest, and my hands were sweaty. When I arrived, I took a deep breath and knocked on your door."

Y/n Pov

I had just returned to my room when I heard a knock at my door. Even though I didn't feel like being bothered, I had to get up and answer it. To my surprise, Wanda was standing there, looking anxious. I was unsure of what she wanted, and even though I didn't particularly want to see her, it was nice to have her there. However, I didn't want to reveal that to her.

“Um, hi. What do you want?" I asked, curious about why she had come to my room. She looked down at her hands and fiddled with her fingers, a nervous habit of hers that I had always found endearing. Smiling at the memory, I waited for her response. "Hi, I was wondering if we could talk?" she finally replied, her voice shaking a little. "Why now? You haven't wanted to talk all this time, what's changed?" I asked, confused by her sudden request. "I know, but I need to speak with you. If after you hear me out, you don't want to speak to me again, I completely understand. I'll leave you alone. But please, I need you to hear me out," she pleaded, taking hold of my hands.

I decided to hear her out and stepped aside to let her in. As she passed by me, I caught a whiff of her flowery perfume and took a deep breath, remembering how her scent used to linger on my pillowcases. I gestured towards the chair in the corner for her to sit while I took the end of my bed. We sat in silence for a while until she finally spoke.

Wanda’s Pov

I was lucky enough to have you let me in. Now, it was time for me to tell you everything. I was so nervous. Despite having rehearsed everything that I wanted to say, I found myself at a loss for words now that I finally had the chance to.

Eventually, I decided to recount everything that had happened from the very beginning. I started with how Natasha approached me in the kitchen, and then to describe how she treated me and how I found out that she had lied, along with the reason behind it. I was afraid to hear what you would say.

"That’s everything that happened. I know that nothing can excuse what I did to you, but I need you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said to you that day when I told you that you weren't enough. It wasn't true, and I regret believing her instead of you. I know there's probably nothing I can say to fix this, but I just need you to know that." I said with tears in my eyes.

You looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t read. What you did next surprised me though.

Y/n Pov

After hearing everything you had to say. I felt as if everything made sense. I was saddened to know that my assumption from earlier about the older woman had been mostly correct but glad to know that the woman whom I fell in love with was exactly who I thought she was. My sweet Wanda.

I got up and walked over to the chair she was sitting in and took her face in my hands. Whipping away some of the tears that had fallen from her green orbits. I looked into her eyes and said, “I forgive you.” By the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t expecting that she quickly jumped up and wrapped her arms around my neck.

I creased her back as I felt her body shake with sobs. I continued to whisper sweet nothings in her ear to calm her down. After a few moments, she was calm enough to have a conversation and I had some questions to ask her.

“I have some questions to ask you but first I want you to know that I’m glad you told me everything and that I don’t want you to blame yourself for what happened. Anyone would’ve been vulnerable and confused in your situation. You did the best that you could and I’m so proud of you for how far you’ve come since a few months ago and I want you to know what she did to you is not okay.” I didn’t expect a vocal reply out of her, however, I did feel her nuzzle her nose into my neck.

I continued with my little speech. “Now time for the questions,” I said while taking her chin in my hands to get her to look at me. “Did she ever force you to do anything you didn’t want to? You can just nod your head yes or no.” I asked, raising my eyebrow so she would know what I was implying. I see her shake her head at me. “Okay good, that’s good. Do you know what you want to do yet?”

She moved out of my embrace a little to sit up so she could answer. “Yes, I don’t want to be with her anymore but every time I try to have a conversation with her she breaks down like she did in the gym.” She cried. I thought for a few seconds before I answered her. “I have an idea but it’s going to be a lot, are you up for it?” She looked up at me and nodded.

Over the next few days, we talked over and over about what would be the best way to go about it. When we finally got it it was time to execute it.

Wanda’s Pov

Your plan had been brilliant, It was the best thing for everyone involved although not to get hurt but that still didn’t make this any easier. Even after everything that Natasha had done I still cared for the woman but this was the best thing for her. All I had to do was get her to Bruce and he would pretty much do the rest since you had caught him up on everything that had happened. Natasha was sitting in the kitchen drinking a protein shake when I approached her. “Hey, Tasha, I was wondering if you would come down to the lab with me. I need to grab something from Tony. He said it was something about “New and improved armor.” I asked, leaning against the counter trying to not show my nerves. “Yeah sure I'll come with you.” She answered, grabbing her protein drink off the counter to take with her.

When we got to the lab she opened the door for me. I walked in and my eyes met with Bruce. I searched his emotionless eyes with my nervous ones hoping that he could give me some kind of reassurance that this was the right thing to do.

As we walked in farther Bruce walked up to us with a blank look on his face. Natasha was the first one to speak. “Hey, Bruce. Tony said he had some new armor for Wanda?” I grabbed her hand to get her to look at me thinking I should be the one to break the news. “Um, actually Nat we’re not here for that, Bruce wanted to speak with you,” I explained gently, trying to keep her as calm as possible. “Speak to me? Speak to me about what?”

She was a little cautious about what was going on. I looked to Bruce for help, thinking he would know how to answer her better than I would. “I just want to talk, you know, checking in with how you're doing.” He answered her. “Well, I’m doing fine. I need to know what this is about and I need to know now.”

Not wanting to upset her more than I already have, I decided to just tell her. “Listen,” I said, taking her hands in mine. “I want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with accepting help. Even the strongest people fall sometimes.” She looked at me with worry in her voice and asked. “I- I what are you talking about?” “I spoke with him about what you told me in the gym and about everything,” I replied, almost holding my breath. I worried about what the outcome of this would be. “And he thinks that he has some things that can help you.” She looked at me with wide eyes before stating. “What I’m not crazy…I’m not crazy.” I quickly reassured her and said, “No one said you are not like I said it's okay to need help sometimes,” hoping that she would understand.

It seemed like she did as she took a deep breath and surprisingly agreed to hear Bruce out as long as I sat there and listened with her, I agreed to do that seeing as I did just surprise her out of nowhere with this. After we listened to Bruce talk about what would be her treatment plan. She seemed to be more comfortable with the idea.

When we were walking out of the lab she stopped. I turned around to see what was the hold up when she said something that I wasn’t expecting. “I’m sorry for what I did, Really sorry.” She said looking down at her feet. “And I want you to be happy, You deserve to be happy and I know that you aren’t that with me but you were with y/n and if you need me to explain everything to her I will but you deserve to be happy and be with someone who is just as amazing as you are.” She continued this time looking me in the eyes. I was shocked as to what I was hearing but not wanting to leave her hanging I replied. “Thank you for apologizing and I accept your apology. I do not need you to talk to Y/n but I do appreciate the gesture.” She nodded at me. “So I guess this is it?” You looked at her and gave a sad smile. “Yes it is, but I will be here if you need to talk and I want to be updated on how your treatment is going.” She smiled back at you and replied “I will keep you updated. Bye, Wanda.” “Goodbye,” I said as I walked away from her feeling sad but excited to go and see you.

When I finally found you, you were in your room reading some book that I couldn't see the name of. I ran into the room and jumped on your bed. You giggled and put the book down, then said, “I'm guessing it went well?” I nodded my head, smiling. “It went a lot better than I was expecting. Your plan worked,” I said. You looked at me, smiling, “I told you it would,” you said while scooting over to make room for me. As I was getting comfortable, I felt you staring at me. I looked up at you and asked, “What?” You blushed and replied, “Nothing, you're just really beautiful.” I surprised myself and started leaning up to kiss you. I went slow, not the perfect knowing if you were ready yet, but letting you know that I was. I soon knew that you were when I felt your lips on mine. I smiled softly as I broke away from the kiss. I then snuggled up in your arms, not certain of what we were in the moment, but sure of one thing: you are enough for me.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

Feedback is absolutely loved!!!

[pinkaditty]

Pink Slush

*timidly tiptoes into my blog but crashes into a comically placed vase and breaks it into pieces and it makes the "oh no, our table!" noise*

looooooong a/n: hiiiiiiiiii............ so it's december! and my last thirst was in october! in my defense... im graduating with a B.S. next semester bro. lots going on woo! but thankfully break is here and all i have to do next semester is research! so ill be active lots more i promise <3 anyways as a thank you for waiting so patiently i have decided that u all deserve a little treat and that little treat is a typical aphrodisiac-induced threesome, except it's between you, Solomon, and Barbatos! IT'S NOT FINISHED but it's in the works so enjoy this little sneak peek of it <3 after this ill work on finishing part 3 of the pervert series and then im answering some asks!

CW: slight dub-con bc u all r under the influence of an aphrodisiac, but otherwise fully consensual, no penetration yet but there is some humping, panting, and lots of men moaning. mc's physical attributes aren't mentioned, so gn!mc.

MINORS DNI PLEASE!! I WILL BLOCK MINOR BLOGS AND AGELESS ONES! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY!

It had all started when you, very innocently, asked Solomon if you could participate in his potions-making sessions this afternoon. You didn’t know what he had been making for the past few weeks, but the fat black cauldron had been sitting on his desk for days at a time; bubbling in magenta and overflowing in blue and being his overall first priority when it turned pink. You weren’t even let into his room much anymore, because he’d be so busy taking care of the thing that you couldn’t spend time together. You huffed at his broad chest as you were ushered out a second time, Solomon’s strangely pink lips uttering various excuses of “you being in here is dangerous!” and “something might go wrong!” and “i don’t want you to suffer from any side effects”. His lips were all you could stare at as he continued to mumble something about the potential dangers of the potion and how having a novice around would do more harm than good. Absent-mindedly, he leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to your forehead, promising to spend more time soon. You realized that he probably hadn’t meant to do that, because the second you pressed your fingertips to your forehead in shock, his face burst out into a deep pink blush. He coughed and hurriedly turned his head to the side, muttering about the side effects again, apologizing for the potency of the potion, and closing his door. You could still hear his muttering. 

The upside to Solomon’s newfound business was that he no longer had any time to cook as often as he used to, so your favorite demon, Barbatos, was at Purgatory Hall’s kitchen, helping to fix a treat for dessert after having brought leftovers from the castle for dinner. You figured, since Solomon wouldn’t let you in, you’d just go and attempt not to be too much of a burden to Barbatos. Upon reaching the kitchen, delicious smells of ingredients you were familiar with filled the air. You were surprised to discover he had been making commonplace human world dishes today. “Hey,” you start, Barbatos turning to you to acknowledge your presence and give a soft smile in greeting. “What are you making?” You approach with your arms behind your back, not wanting to disturb Barbatos too much. He smiled a little wider at you and turned back to his work. “Trying to replicate human world ice-cream.” Barbatos’s voice was ever monotone, and he often spoke in small half-sentences when he was busy. You never minded. If anything, it was endearing to you. He was always so dedicated to his work, sometimes so absorbed in it he didn’t notice anything outside of it. However, you knew he wasn’t unaware of your staring, and it was obvious in how he moved. You didn’t mention it. “Made cookies to go with it.” He shrugged his left shoulder in the direction of a pan full of chocolate-chip cookies, aromatic and fresh from the oven. You hadn’t even noticed Luke’s small figure before you entered, but there he was at the counter, reaching upwards to feast on a cookie. “Have some. And please prevent Luke from eating them all.” The first two words were said suspiciously close to your ear after you’d turned away to glance in the direction he’d shrugged. You pretended to ignore the heat on the back of your neck and tips of your ears as you approached Luke, gently patting his head. He wiggled and shouted in protest, but ultimately let you, holding your hand in his hair when you tried to pull away. With your other hand, you reached out for a cookie, and ate it rather quickly. Barbatos’s baking was always top-notch, and today was no exception. The buttery cookie melted on your tongue, warm chocolate spreading over your taste buds. You had to stop yourself from reaching for another one and turned Luke’s attention away from the cookies so he wouldn’t eat more. With him safely nestled in the couch next to Simeon, watching a crude human world reality TV show, you found it okay to return to Barbatos’s side. He had already finished the ice cream, so there was no way for you to help in making, but he happily invited you to taste test it. 

He held out a spoon by it’s handle, a large dollop of ice cream on it’s end. You couldn’t decide if he intended for you to eat it or take it first. Without thinking too hard, you leaned forwards and took the spoon in your mouth, gently coaxing the ice cream off of the spoon and into your mouth. Barbatos momentarily froze, almost unnoticeable before returning to his demeanor. His smile was gentle, and his eyes shone with an unreadable expression. You slowly leaned off of the spoon as Barbatos slipped it from between your lips, and turned away to put it in the sink. 

He turned back towards you to watch your expression. You could tell he was curious, but he did not show it. His head was tilted in observation, his classic reserved expression and gentle smile on his face. “How is it, MC?” You are surprised when you hear him speak, jolted from your observation of his features. You nod vigorously, expressing your approval of his attempt. He smiles wider and turns away, preparing for clean up. 

“Ah, by the way, MC.” Barbatos addresses you as he’s turned away. He knows better than to suspect you may have wandered off. “Forgive me for my forwardness, but if I may, what are you doing down here?” You watched him as he moved back and forth across the creamy marble tile of the kitchen, picking up dish after dish, his arms gently flexing with every heavy pan, hands covered in bubble mesh from the soap. “I expected you to be upstairs with Solomon, helping him with his potions today.” You didn’t miss the way his voice grated when he said his name. You sigh amusedly at their fight, hoping Barbatos didn’t hear it. If he did, he makes no move to make it obvious. 

“Solomon won’t let me into his room any longer… He’s making some really intricate potion and it’s been eating up his attention lately…” You pout without realizing it, having wanted to spend time with him after not seeing him often in weeks. You were rather fond of his antics, and treasured the time you spent together, learning all sorts of new magic from him and deepening the bond of your friendship. Sure, perhaps you might be pushing a little hard to spend time with him, but it’d been weeks. That much had to be understandable. 

When you look up, Barbatos is turned towards you, rolling his sleeves down and donning his gloves. The cleaning had already been finished, ice cream placed in cold storage and cookies left out to be ravaged by whoever. You smile at him, his efficiency never failing to surprise you. He smiles back, gently, before returning his attention to his gloves. “Have you heard what it might be?” 

“No, and I really want to figure it out… But he won’t let me in.” You sigh, turning towards the stairs, wondering if a third try today was really worth it. You heard Barbatos approach from the side, looking up the stairs with you. You glanced at him from the side, and you could see the gears turning in his head. Both of you wanted to see him - likely for very different reasons - but wanted to see him regardless. 

“Let us go upstairs.” Barbatos spoke suddenly, and you turned to him fully. “I need to speak with him about the condition of the kitchenware after his atrocious cooking.” His expression was as displeased as you’d ever seen it, his eyebrows quirked downwards, and his lips in a straight line.

A smile spreads across your face and you have to muffle your laughter in your hand, following Barbatos up the stairs. Upon reaching the wooden door of his room again, Barbatos reached out to knock, announcing his presence. There was no answer, if not for the ominous humming of the potion and occasional whooshing and crackling sound of the fire underneath it. Barbatos’s eyebrows quirked in annoyance, and you brought a hand to your lips again, stifling your laughter. Barbatos once again knocked, announcing his presence slightly louder. You piped in as well this time, hoping Solomon would listen. There was still no answer, and Barbatos was becoming increasingly frustrated. You turned to him, about to insist that you come back later, when Barbatos reached out and pushed the door in, having realized it was unlocked. 

The scene that greeted you was expected: Solomon hunched over his potion, which was glowing neon pink on his face, the light highlighting the dark circles under his eyes. His hands were hovering on either side of the potion, as though prepared to grab whatever leaped from the cauldron and stuff it back in. He hadn’t seemed to notice your presence, too focused on the potion. You glanced at Barbatos, who was already storming in, uncaring about his privacy or lack of response. You followed, though significantly more timid, not daring to storm for fear of toppling his potion over. The fumes for it were already potent as you stepped in, and you swung the door shut to prevent it from wafting into the halls. The potion smelled overwhelmingly like a mix of perfume and musk, invading your senses but still rather somewhat pleasant. The smell of it made your body feel warm and somewhat weakened at the joints, like a warm cup of hot chocolate or the arms of a lover securing you in their grasp. You blinked, resisting the cloudy feeling in your head as you looked up. Barbatos was now in conversation with Solomon, likely berating him for the state of the kitchenware, while Solomon occasionally retorted back, still mostly focused on the potion. When Solomon looked up and noticed you, his expression went from surprise to slight frustration, his brows furrowing and his lips quirking down in displeasure. You knew he didn’t want to see you in here, but you waved at him anyway, and he rolled his eyes, attention too split between Barbatos and the potion to force you out. You walked over to where he and Barbatos were speaking, standing just behind them, watching Solomon hover over the pink, bubbling mixture. It was thick and gooey looking, some of it overflowing and dripping down the sides of his cauldron. The smell of musk and perfume was stronger as you got closer to the potion, but still pleasant. 

You don’t quite know what happened next. Barbatos must have said something that made Solomon turn to him, exasperation laced into every one of his features, contorting his expression. As Solomon turned, he knocked an elbow into the edge of the cauldron, and it tipped over, the gas and sludge spilling all over the three of you. 

Your shoes and pants drenched in pink sludge and the rest of you surrounded by a thick pink gas, you only have two seconds to feel displeased before a strange warmth spreads through your body. You swallow roughly at the feeling, heat rising in your cheeks. Your lower body begins to twinge strangely in response to the warmth, and you shudder. When you look up to survey the others, it seems they are in a similar state. Also covered in the pink sludge, but the redness of their cheeks betrayed their outward angered expressions. You wave away the gas, while not unpleasant to breathe, still very intoxicating. You clear your throat once the gas has mostly dispersed, still feeling warmth all over your body. When you try to speak, your voice comes out low and thick with arousal. “What… was that potion?” You hold a hand to your throat, surprised at your own voice. You attempt to clear your throat again, but when you mutter to yourself, there is no change. The warmth continues to build, intoxicating and somewhat suffocating under your clothing. The blush on your face deepens as you shift uncomfortably, everywhere your clothes brush against your skin burning with arousal. 

“That,” Solomon spoke, rather incredulously, thwap-ing a palm against his forehead. “Was… an extremely potent… aphrodisiac.” He spoke slowly, his words punctured by hisses and moans disguised as deep exhales. The sound of his voice was strangely intoxicating to you, and you couldn’t help but notice the pinkness of his lips again, watching his tongue flick against them as he prepared to elaborate. “I was brewing it… for a client… and now, here we are.” He had one hand fisted in the collar of his shirt, pulling it away from his skin to alleviate the growing heat. He didn’t sound angry, but it could have been the nature of the aphrodisiac softening his voice. His breathing was heavy and still punctured by small whimpers. He gripped his desk for support, trying to stay upright. 

You swallowed, watching his lips form these whimpers. You gripped your shirt too, both to distract yourself and to hopefully alleviate the way his actions were entracing. You forcefully turned your head away, towards Barbatos, who was also not in a very good state. It was then that you realized how potent this potion must have been, because even he could not keep himself upright. He was also gripping the other end of Solomon’s desk, unable to stand. His legs were shaking where he stood, and one hand was tugging at his collar. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, breathing heavily and biting his lip. You couldn’t see his face, as he was turned away from you both, but the tips of his ears were a very bright red. His demonic features were beginning to unmask themselves, his tail swaying and his horns sprouting from his head. 

You were not in a good state either. Somehow, you’d lost your balance and tumbled backwards, landing on the edge of Solomon’s bed. You were panting, clutching at your R.A.D. uniform, fingers shakily moving to undo the buttons. The heat was too much. The shifting of your clothes was too much. Arousal blazed within you simply from sitting there, feeling your fingers move across your chest. You grit your teeth and your thighs twitch as you attempt to stave off the arousal and stay still.

“Nngh…” One of Solomon’s tantalizing moans. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut at the visceral reaction you had to his sounds, breathing heavily to calm yourself. When you could stand to, you opened your eyes and turned to glance at him. His face was red with arousal, eyes closed tight as he gently peeled his uniform jacket off of him, attempting to relieve the heat. You watch as it slides off of his shoulders, leaving behind a formal black button up that clung to his torso, slick with sweat and stuffy from the heat. You tried to look away, but couldn’t, enamored with how his fingers began to fiddle with the buttons at his collar, whimpering at the chance of freedom. You watched as his pink lips turned very red when he bit them, stifling his own moans at the feeling of cool air on his neck. 

You were dizzy with arousal. You had barely managed to peel off your own jacket, reluctant to go any further, but the heat seemed to urge you. You squeezed your legs together as your lower body twinged again, this time with more arousal than the last. You let out a strangled breath, gripping at Solomon’s bedsheets. You lifted your chin upwards, determined to resist the urges.

“Haah…” It was unfamiliar, but you could tell it wasn’t Solomon this time. Your eyes flew to the butler as he straightened up, having removed his tie, holding it in his gloved hand before it fell to the floor. Barbatos was leaning against Solomon’s desk, face red with arousal, a hazy look in his eyes. Gripping the desk with one hand, he lifted the other to his face and bit at the end of his glove, pulling it off of his hand. It slid off with ease, and he groaned at the release of heat, the look in his eyes becoming hazier. He removed his glove from his mouth, and there was a small string of saliva connecting his lips to the glove. He wiped it away, and bared his fangs for the second glove. 

Before you could watch him do it again and feel your arousal grow, you flop onto the bed and turn yourself over, muffling your moans with the nearest pillow. You lay your upper body across Solomon’s bed, face buried into a pillow, knees giving way and struggling to keep yourself up.

You did not hear the shuffling in the room, nor the footsteps, nor the hesitant movement behind you, having been too focused in muffling your own cries of arousal into the pitiful pillow. But you do feel when a weight from above presses into you, arms reaching for your chest, and a tongue presses into the back of your neck. You cry out in surprise, gripping the sheets harder and arching your back, feeling your backside hit the peak of someone’s arousal. When a strangled moan and push back are done in response, you know it is Solomon. He pants heavily for a moment before continuing to leave open-mouthed kisses on the back of your neck, lapping at the collection of your sweat and leaning forward to nibble on your ear. You bury your face further into the pillow, beginning to feel short of breath. You couldn’t even think straight anymore. You reached behind yourself for Solomon, lacing your fingers through his scalp and grabbing a fistful, attempting to ground yourself. Solomon moans loudly into your ear, curling his back and snapping his hips forward into you. You hear him pant as you feel the hardened length of him push between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you feel him continue to press further. His heavy breathing is indicative of his tongue lolling out, and it’s not hard to imagine his eyes rolling back either. Eventually he swallows and stops pressing, relieving some pressure on you and instead burying his face in the crook of your neck, mindlessly lapping his tongue at whatever exposed skin there was. Not wanting the pressing to stop, you pull on his hair again and he whines, pressing forward, face level with yours. You see tears prick the edges of his eyes as he presses between your legs again, feeling him brush against you. You muffle your moans into the pillow and he muffles his into your neck, reaching down to grip at your hips rather harshly, lost in the pleasure. He continues to mindlessly lap at your skin, pressing his forehead into your hair. 

You almost don't notice when the bed dips in front of you, the mattress now supporting three weights. It is then that you remember that you have managed to effectively trap yourself in with an accomplished immortal sorcerer and the most powerful demon in the three realms. Both of which are experiencing major arousal. Including you. 

You force yourself to look up, Solomon still buried in your neck. You were certain you looked a mess, but the stuttered exhale from Barbatos indicated otherwise. Barbatos didn't exactly look a mess, but he was certainly sweaty, disheveled, and full of yearning. His jacket and dress shirt were still on, but both were unbuttoned partway, revealing his neck and upper chest, glistening with sweat from the sticky heat. His mouth was wide open, panting for air, but his lips were curved upwards in a wicked smile. His eyes were shinier than before, glowing just slightly as his tail whipped back and forth behind him. You couldn't say that you weren't somewhat excited at this.

Barbatos began to tremble, leaning forward towards you until your faces were level and his chest was pressing into the bed. He leaned into the sheets, pressing his cheek against the thick comforter. His eyes were watery and he was still panting. You could see his fangs through the small part in his lips. "F-Forgive me…" His voice was low and breathy, and his eyes rolled as he spoke, as if simply exerting energy speaking was costing him. "Forgive me, MC… Every second, it gets… harder…" He suddenly inhaled sharply, gnashing his teeth together, trembling harder before releasing, exhaling heavily. He whimpered softly, closing his eyes and biting his lip to stifle anything further. You watched his face, paying no mind to the lack of movement behind you. You couldn't explain it, but this only made your need swell. His lips, small but soft and pink, were becoming discolored the longer he held them between his teeth. His hair was scattered over the comforter,  blue green strands hanging in front of his clear emerald eyes. His cheeks were red and his skin was splotchy, both from heat and arousal. He did not look as prim and proper as usual, and something about it stirred within you, deeper than the potion effects...

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

a/n: haha and that's the end of that for now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! had this in the works for MONTHS! it's taken my blood, sweat, and tears y'all. i hope you enjoy this for now and i PROMISE i will deliver! it will be late... but i WILL deliver!

[newnlovesjennie]

one piece fanfiction recommendations!!

i figured i might shine light on some of my favorite fanfics from the one piece fanbase in case anyone was looking for some reading (if any author wants something taken down, please lmk!)

note: these are all on ao3 !!

☆⋆。𖦹✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩°‧★☆⋆。𖦹✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩°‧★☆⋆。𖦹✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ☆

favorite luffy fic:

bring me home by citrus scented

summary: “The sky is beautiful like this, don’t you think?”. He makes a face that melts into another grin when you laugh. “You know,” you say, “when it’s so clear and blue that it looks endless. I feel like I could just float up into this sky and go anywhere I want to.”  “You can already go anywhere you want to,” Luffy says. He picks at the grass, digging blunt fingertips into the cool earth. Nami will scold him later for having dirt under his fingernails. “If there’s somewhere you want to go, then just do it.”

luffy/reader, wc: 12.3k

cw: depression

favorite zoro fic:

the universe told me by rudimentaryflair

summary: It’s just his luck. He doesn’t even go looking for his soulmate, and he finds him anyway. (Or, snippets of a love story, as told through a series of soulmarks.)

zoro/sanji, wc: 13.5k

cw: none

favorite nami fic:

tiny tangerine speckles painted in your eyes by kermit_coded

summary: nami and all her ghosts.

nami & the strawhats, wc: 1.7k

cw: past child abuse

favorite sanji fic:

don't be weary if we're broken by blueh

summary: the Vinsmokes somehow end up on the Strawhats' ship after crashing the Big Mom's Tea Party and not everything is as right as it seems.

sanji & the strawhats, wc: 3.2k

cw: past child abuse

favorite usopp fic: 

In like a lion, out like a lamb by hongmunmu

summary: Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb (Revelation 6:15-17). In the wake of what transpired at the Pirates Festival, Luffy and Usopp take a deeper look at their relationship.

usopp/luffy, wc: 12.8k

cw: none

favorite robin fic:

(my favorite fic out of these!)

when the warm air comes by bluewalk

summary: seven prompts from frobin week on tumblr

robin/franky, wc: 4k

cw: none 

favorite franky fic:

i saw you and suddenly the world wasn’t by WhirlyBird70

summary: Take me to sea with you! She had yelled, tears falling from her eyes but some impossible dream in her heart, and a craziness no one but a Straw Hat could match. She was a mess, bruised and tired and chained but seas –Franky had never seen a soul more brave and beautiful than hers, with such faith in miracles that were unseen and unthought of. He caught a glimpse that day, of who Nico Robin truly was.

robin/franky, wc: 1.1k

cw: none