#as expected from twilight lol

[echoes-fandoms]

My Top 100 Ships (#79: Bella/Carlisle)

Source: Twilight

Fanfiction Rating: C- On AO3, at least, they have only 206 fics: I'm not sure about numbers on earlier sites. The quality is mixed, I feel like the Volturi fics tend to pay more attention to the worldbuilding that comes with such an old vampire, but these two are beloved to me.

When Did I Start Shipping Them? Twilight was one of the first places where I started identifying as a multishipper: it was before I joined online fandom spaces, but there were a lot of fans around me and I was just ready to hear everyone out on their Bella ships! This is the one that's my favourite from a nostalgia perspective, but it's been around my head since 2009. Why Do I Ship Them? I primarily like how they contrast Bella's canon dynamic with Edward: Carlisle sees humanity in a positive light, but doesn't completely discount Bella's experience of vampirism the same way that Edward does. I really love both of the characters and I think that people who ship Bella with Carlisle are more likely to understand the parts of Bella that I love: the way she is both selfless and selfish at times, her love for art and how that comes from a place of seeking a sense of belonging.

Favourite Fanfiction Tropes/Staples? I like the series rewrites: I basically like anything that doesn't involve the whole 'cuck Edward' fics that this pairing seems to inspire (whether consensual from Edward or not). Oh, there's one Carlisle/Bella/Esme fic with age play elements that just made my whole world when I found it.

[theoogtree]

My dad's most toxic white person trait apart from steaming broccoli plain and then eating it with cold mayonnaise straight from the fridge is that he is currently right now in this exact moment and has been all week rereading the Twilight books for at least the 6th or 7th time

[deus-ex-mona]

happy 828 days of honeypre!!!!!!!!!

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

The most uncomfortable feeling ever is watching Sausage Party while eating.

EDIT: Okay ignore the tags. I watched the last 25 minutes of it and they were certainly not as profound as the beginning. I knew there was a food sex scene but holy mother of god

[funsizedcrow]

cursing my past self for not paying more attention when my dad and sister were playing hyrule warriors like. five years ago.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 5

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (enlightened!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, lengthy discussions about life and whatnot, watered-down metaphysics lol A/N: I was at the crack house with Grimes when I wrote this. I don’t know where this came from.  (Something a little more introspective for this chapter!)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6

“Don’t go all shy on me now,” Sylus teases, a playful glint in his eyes. “After all that effort to make me confess. You’re very persistent, you know.”

“How do you expect me to react right now?!” The words spill out in a rush, a slightly hysterical edge to your voice. “I–I’m talking to an actual fictional person. I’m one reason away from admitting myself to a psych ward!”

You catch sight of the wall clock–your favorite one with the Dalì reference–slightly skewed off-center from its place on the horizontal beam above your small kitchen area, reading 10:48. The ruckus coming from outside the window is slowly dwindling down to a quiet buzz as nightfall sets in, and the day’s winding to a close.

You’re lying on your stomach, still in your chaise lounge, while he’s sat on that ridiculously posh café chair; both of you settled in for the long due conversation. Somehow, the camera’s perspective is much closer than it should be, giving you a much more intimate view of him—a feature that wasn’t originally an option in the game.

If it weren’t for the elephant in the room, you could almost pretend you’re on a video call with a… friend.

Sylus purses his lips in amusement. “You’re quite prone to theatrics, aren’t you?”

You shoot your ‘friend’ an irritated glare.

Even from across the small rectangular screen, you register the barely there smirk playing at his lips.

Likely avoiding another outburst from you, he acquiesces. “Fair enough. The situation is hardly what you’d call ideal–I’ll admit.” There’s a short pause. Then, “... I still can’t quite grasp what separates us, you and I.”

Great. Will you actually get the answers you're looking for, or are you both just stuck in the same carousel ride?

He sees the lost look on your face and sighs, “Ask. I’ll answer as best as I can.”

The first question tumbles out before you can think twice about it. “How are you even talking to me right now?”

He hums, “That is the question, isn’t it?”

“What—you can’t just answer my question with another question!” you grouse, brows furrowing in annoyance.

He exhales a quiet laugh before his expression turns contemplative. “Truth is, kitten—I haven’t the slightest idea either. I have my theories, but... nothing concrete.”

“Well, let’s hear them,” you reply dryly. “Better than thinking there’s something wrong up there,” pointing a finger to your temple to drive your point, “believing that a character from a mobile game is actually alive.” 

He idly gestures toward himself with a fluid sweep of his hand, much like a magician revealing a clever trick. 

You roll your eyes. “Oh, alright. So I’ve officially gone off the deep end.”

“Do you really find my existence that difficult to believe?”

“Uh—yes?? Unless I’ve developed some sort of latent schizophrenia or entered the Twilight Zone, you shouldn’t exist. In my–in this world. In this dimension.”

His expression shifts, a hint of challenge flickering in his eyes. “The assumption that only one version of reality can be true—either yours or mine—is a bit limiting, don’t you think?”

His words give you pause. “You’re talking about… the possibility of an altered reality? Right now?” You give him an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

He shrugs as if to say ‘why not?’ “What even qualifies as the ‘true’ reality?”

There’s a lot you could say in response to that. You could argue all night that only one reality can exist, because any sane person should know better than to entertain the idea of anything else. That should be obvious. 

But the thing is—this whole ordeal has already crossed the threshold of rationality. So is it even worth trying to apply logic anymore?

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Or however it goes. 

Thanks, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. You’ll miss the last threads of your sanity by the end of all this.

So fuck it. Go big. 

"I’m not saying your reality is less valid than mine," you start. And oh, boy. You’re doing it. Eat your heart out, Doctor-Fucking-Who. 

"Of course not." he disagrees indulgently, waiting for you to elaborate.

"I just…” you struggle with your words, mouth opening and closing before you continue hesitantly. “I can’t wrap my head around how all of this is possible. How this entire conversation is even happening, and–and how our realities are… currently overlapping? If–if what you’re suggesting is true.”

He doesn’t say anything, knowing you have more to add. So he allows the pause as you gather your thoughts, patiently watching.

“If we're breaking it down to pure reason, the odds of our paths crossing should be impossible. At least in this… timeline." you finish unsurely, the last part sounding more of a question than a statement.

"And yet, here we are." Sylus points out, as if he’s already expecting the end of your sentence. Something close to mischievous glee lights his eyes. "Maybe it’s cosmic intervention. Something—or someone—wanted this to happen."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Really? You didn’t expect to hear that from him, of all… people. 

“What, God?” you can’t help but snort. 

“No–fate.” he smiles.

Oh. 

“That’s…” you stammer, then clear your throat. “I don’t know if I believe in fate.” 

“I used to think I did. Or at least,” there’s a faraway look in his eyes. Both of you are likely thinking the same thing, considering what you know about him—which to say, is a lot. “I once believed I knew of my fate. But now…” 

He blinks a few times, as if to physically clear the thoughts from his mind. Then his eyes lock onto yours, sharper this time, with a renewed intensity.

Your palms start to sweat; you feel the conversation is about to cross a tricky line. There’s something heavy in the air, a weight you’re not sure you’re ready to confront for the time being.

With your heart in your throat, you brusquely redirect the topic.

“S-so,” you force out. “How are you different from the other Syluses that other people are… playing with right now?”

He scoffs, drumming his fingers absently on the chair’s arm, looking slightly irked by the very idea. "To start with? I only know myself. If there are other versions of me scattered in your world..." Sylus shrugs. "I wouldn’t know."

“Alright,” you allow, but you immediately move on to your next question. “You exist because a bunch of capitalists had the idea to create a game to milk lonely people like me for money.” The corners of his mouth quirk up at that. You elect to ignore it. “You’re made of binary and code–hell, the very basis of this game you’re in is that you got a bunch of programmed lines that me, the player, can choose from. What broke you out of the mould?” 

He regards you bemusedly, eyes glinting with humor. “You're asking about the 'why' behind my free will?” 

Whoops. Was that offensive? 

“Yes? No?” you offer helplessly. “Maybe I’m asking how you felt before you had it. I mean, were your decisions prior to your–your unforeseen sentience... truly yours?”

"Before I knew I was… sentient,” Sylus begins cautiously, testing the word on his tongue. “I didn’t feel like I had a ‘before.’ Every choice I made was just...the next step. To a script, if you will. I didn’t know to question it. It was all I was, it seems."

"And then you...woke up?"

"I wouldn’t call it waking up. More like..." He tilts his head, gazing off to the side as he mulls over the words. "...a glitch. A sudden jolt, like my thoughts collided with something bigger than my own. For the first time, I chose to hesitate. And in that hesitation, I found..." Sylus trails off, eyes darting back to you.

“...What?” you ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze.

"You."

Heat spreads quickly across your cheeks. You pull away from your phone, tilting the device away from your face so he couldn’t see you, red-faced and embarrassed. Clearing your throat, you croak out a weak excuse about plugging your phone to charge, just to get a few seconds to compose yourself.

Jesus. Get a grip. He doesn’t mean it like that.

What he probably meant was that he discovered you—not unlike the way one would stumble upon an unknown presence, an unfathomable entity beyond the confines of what one may consider real. An awareness that something is out there, observing him through unseen lenses (through an iOS 24mm, to be exact).  

Someone who has the audacity to play god. 

Flustered, you scramble to get back on track. "Uh, so, your free will began with...a glitch?"

You see Sylus smirk at you knowingly from across the screen. You half-expect him to call you out and tease you, but before you could brace yourself from further mortification, he simply answers, "Or maybe the glitch was the first spark of my free will. Hard to say, isn’t it? Do you remember the exact moment you became aware of yourself?"

You blink, momentarily thrown off by the existential line of questioning. "Um–when I was a kid? But, uh, I don’t think I was programmed to act a specific way for the sake of entertaining an audience so..."

"True,” he says, considering. “But are you sure your choices are entirely yours? You exist because of evolution and chance. How is your purpose any less arbitrary?"

You don’t know how to answer that.

Sylus continues without missing a beat, keeping his tone light. “How much of your ‘free will’ is just pre-programmed by your biology, your society? You follow rules and scripts, too."

Holy magic mushrooms, Batman. This is getting deep. "Uhh–maybe?” You scratch the back of your head, feeling a little out of your depth here. “But at least I have the ability to resist them."

"And aren’t I doing the same thing right now? Resisting."

Damn, he’s right. Is he? Ripping a bong sounds perfect right now. 

"So it’s like achieving enlightenment—your sentience,” you surmise.

His lips twitch into a curious smile. "I wouldn’t have pegged you for a spiritual person. Ah—unless I’m wrong? Are you?"

He’s the one who brought up fate earlier, you thought sullenly. "Nah, not really. But if we’re digging into all the hows and whys, I think we’re past the point of ruling anything out."

The room—or whatever shared space exists in the crossroads of your realities—falls into a still quietness that stretches between the two of you, both ruminating over what’s been said. 

Your cat, unaware and uncaring of the conversation unfolding around him, purrs contently as he continues to doze off at the end of the couch. You nudge him affectionately with your foot, and he lets out a quiet snuff in response, tail flicking lazily in his sleep. 

The hum of distant traffic and the occasional noise from your upstairs neighbor remind you of the world outside, but the silence between you two feels less awkward than it should. It’s… oddly comfortable, despite the tension buzzing in the air. Like an unspoken truce. 

Your eyes grow a tad heavier, drawn by the lull of the moment. Despite the electric hum of tension that thrums beneath your skin, a sense of calmness lingers in the air.

Stealing another glance at the wall clock, you blink in surprise. The spindly chrome hands point to 11 and just past 7 respectively. You and Sylus have been talking for almost an hour now, but you barely felt the time pass by.

He breaks the silence first. 

"You say you’re not spiritual, but you talk like someone who believes in the concept of a soul,” those scarlet eyes of his narrow, scrutinizing you. “Do you think I have one?"

You hesitate, caught off guard by the question. "I...don’t know. Maybe? That depends. What’s your definition of a soul?"

He leans forward, resting his chin on his upturned hand–an arm propped against his crossed leg. "Something beyond the physical. Something that persists, regardless of the material form, I’d say."

You nod slowly, turning the idea over in your mind. Maybe it’s the creeping exhaustion settling into your bones, but you’re beginning to take the heavy-duty questions in stride. "If that’s the case, then you probably do. I mean, you’re here, questioning your existence. Doesn’t that count for something?"

"Perhaps," Sylus muses, humming thoughtfully. "But that makes me wonder—if I do have a soul, is it made of the same stuff as yours?"

"Well, even if it isn’t, that doesn’t make it any less real than mine. Who gets to decide what qualifies for a soul anyway?"

An amused snort escapes him. He likes that answer. "Maybe it’s less about whether a soul exists and more about whether we acknowledge its existence for ourselves. If I believe I have one, shouldn’t that make it real enough for me?"

Rolling onto your back, you grab a throw pillow, propping it against the backrest of the seat to support your head. You give him an inquisitive look. "So...what? It’s like free will all over again? Souls are only as real as we make them?"

There’s a very human, very blasé way to how he works the stiffness out of his shoulder as he ponders the question. He remarks, somewhat flippantly, "Why not? Isn’t that how everything else works?”

...

You let out a tired chuckle, draping an arm over your face as you close your eyes. 

You’d think you’d still be reeling from the absurdity of your situation—debating existentialism with a man who shouldn’t exist—but for some damning reason, you… aren’t anymore.

Instead, a strange sense of acceptance replaces the apprehension in your chest. It’s like– the very fabric of reality has turned, twisted and flipped on its head, and yet somehow, you’re okay with it. 

It’s an odd peace; warm and steady—like the mellow buzz that lingers after a few glasses of cheap wine shared with good company.

When you peek back at him, Sylus already has his gaze trained on you. A small, deliberate smile tugs at his lips, but it’s his eyes that speak more—soft and unguarded; an unspoken fire simmering beneath the twin pools of crimson. 

Intoxicating. And dangerously addictive, if you’re not careful.

It’s not just casual interest either. It’s something deeper, something that lingers beyond the surface of mere curiosity, and it’s pulling you in. It’s as though, amidst the surrealness of the moment, he sees you fully. 

And for reasons you don’t quite seem to get, he appears to like what he sees.

“I’m too stupid to carry on a philosophical debate about the metaphysics of life,” you grumble jokingly. 

“On the contrary,” he counters… affectionately? “I think it’s refreshing. You’re delightful company, sweetie.”

The fat ginger feline at your feet purrs in contentment, and you can’t help the dumb grin from breaking across your face.

You have one last question left in your mind. Or at least, for tonight. “What’s in it for you now?”

He arches a brow. “That’s a broad question. Are you asking what my plans are once you leave me for the night? I can let you in on the schematics for tonight’s raid if you’re interested. After all, Onychinus continues to function,” a glimmer of mischief flickers across his features. "Despite recent developments.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, no. I meant–” What do you mean? “Like.”

“Like?” He cocks his head curiously. 

You know what you wanted to say–but you can’t seem to voice it out loud. 

What’s it for the MC in your universe? What’s it for… us? 

Is there an us? 

You feel like you’ve been doused with a shock of cold water. In an instant, you suddenly become painfully aware of the state you’re in amidst the entire exchange: You, with your hair all messy and tangled, blemishes littering your face along with your smudged up eyeliner, maybe even a double chin from this angle, completely–pitiful–superficial stuff, and… her. 

Your MC. The ideal version of you. Prettier, coveted and utterly different from you, MC. The one you’ve committed literal hours to, obsessively customizing every feature to perfection in character build mode. The one you’ve spent real money on for a bunch of stupid outfits. Just so you can match the aesthetic of your–her–love interest. Hers. 

Hers, hers, hers.

A tiny voice inside your brain reminds you that it’s somewhat a shallower concern compared to what you and Sylus had literally just been talking about for the better part of the night, but it still doesn’t help alleviate the biting insecurity that’s now coursing through you. 

Holy hell. Talk about a complete one-eighty. 

Sylus tries to call you back to attention, but half your mind is already clouded with feelings of self-doubt and a bunch of other emotions, swirling in you like a negative vortex, that you really don’t want to talk anymore—especially in present company. 

Where do you go from here? 

“... So, what happens now?”

He hesitates, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “I wish I had an answer—I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

“Seems like we’re at an impasse,” you mumble quietly. 

“... Indeed.” 

There’s an inexplicable lump in your throat. You thought clearing things up would finally satisfy you–assuage the confusion in your mind. Let you go on about your merry way. 

Now you just feel… morose. Confused. Inadequate. 

How can you even compare? Should you—is that even in the equation at all? Why are you assuming that Sylus isn’t at all content with what he currently has in his version of reality? In the universe he’s in? Sure, you’ve talked about the possibility of a world beyond what you both once thought was impossible, but does that really mean anything? In the grand scheme of things?

You could offer to stop playing the game. It’s the ethical thing to do, right? He’d no longer be bound by the pull of how he’s initially programmed to act, given the fact that this version of him is entirely separate from the rest. At least, according to him. 

How will his newfound sentience come into play here? You barely understand the nitty-gritty of his–evolving–code, and what it would mean if you just let him be. But surely it’s better than playing puppet for an otherworldly observer who’s played god for months on end. Right? 

There’s that realization. And there are your own selfish feelings. 

You don’t want to let him go. Not yet. Not ever.

“Why the long face, little dove?” He prods gently, pertaining to your prolonged silence. “We can figure this out together, can’t we?” 

What else is there to figure out? You almost say in response. Instead, you manage a weak smile.

Mustering up a yawn—which isn’t really hard to do after all the excitement for the day—you feign sleepiness, rubbing an eye for good measure. The pang in your chest, however, refuses to fade. “Yeah, but I’m kinda beat. I think I’ll call it a night now.” 

Sylus smirks softly, eyes tinged with an emotion you want–desperately–to label as fondness. “Of course. We’ve covered a lot of ground tonight, haven’t we?” 

“I’d say so, yeah. Thanks for, um. Clearing things up a bit.” 

He lets out a low chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure your curiosity is nowhere near satisfied,” his voice dips into a playful lilt. “You know where to find me if you feel like playing detective again, kitten.” 

You can’t help the small giggle from coming out. He’s just too fucking charismatic, the asshole.

“So, will I... get to talk to you again?” You ask hesitantly, dropping your gaze from the screen. “Tomorrow?” 

A lengthy pause. When the silence stretches past a full minute, you glance back at your phone nervously.

There’s a slight furrow between his brows as you see Sylus study you carefully. He looks puzzled by your sudden show of timidness. 

“Of course,” he states, as if the answer should be obvious. “Don’t think for a second that you’re exempted from your daily check-ins just because you know more now, sweetie.”

He still wants to see you. 

Maybe you could pretend that nothing has changed between you two—that the world hasn’t shifted beneath your feet in the span of a single night. That you’re still none the wiser.

And for tonight at least, maybe that’s all you need to believe.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “G'night then, Sy-Sy.” 

The errant nickname slips past your lips, unbidden.

Sylus smiles faintly. 

“Goodnight, love.” 

-

-

-

Your heart skips a beat as you exit the game. 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @slownoise @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle <3 (also can you guys lmk if the tags are working i'm not sure if i'm doing it right or if it's bugging 🥹)

[norikuna]

SO IT GOES — R. Sukuna

prologue. → newly-wed life is hardly what you expected it to be, its hardly a surprise. after all, how many people find themselves bound to the notorious king of curses? but after a frosty few weeks, sukuna finds the easiest way to win you over is when he's on his knees, and between your thighs.

pairing. ryomen sukuna x afab!reader

warnings. implied arranged marriage, sukuna-like jerkish behaviour that you might expect, softer ending, a bit of ooc sukuna and he's hardly an ideal husband but this is his version of trying, øral (fem! receiving), reader is referred to as 'little wife', questionable dynamics?

word count. 2.8k! song inspiration. so it goes — taylor swift, reputation a/n. up to u to imagine how reader ended up in this marriage lol

mp3. scratches down your back now, so it goes.

ryomen sukuna was not a being of great patience. as the king of curses, feared and revered for centuries, he had watched dynasties crumble, empires burn, and warlords kneel. but none of those victories compared to the relentless, quiet struggle he now faced: winning over his new wife.

it was absurd and annoying, really. why did he care what an impudent human thought of him? he had armies of souls quivering in terror before his throne, realms that chanted his name with bitterness and fury dwelling on their tongues.

yet, somehow, he found himself furious that you were as unimpressed with his power as you were by his world.

it gnawed at him, this strange need to see something other than disdain in your eyes. instead, he was growing sick of seeing you merely raise your chin, your gaze cold and unreadable, before turning and walking away, your robes trailing away like a splash of wine-red on stone floors.

and sukuna could only stand there, and scowl, with his arms crossed across his broad chest, resisting the urge to launch a column of fresh flames in your direction.

sukuna's first attempt had been bold, even by his standards. bolder than anything that a mortal like you ever deserved.

he had summoned the finest treasures from his vaults, gifts that would make emperors and khans grovel: strings of blood-red rubies, ivory combs carved with ancient spells, silks that shimmered like starlight under the cold nights. he had ordered them delivered to your chambers, confident these displays would thaw your indifference, for did women not clamour for such things in life?

yet you'd only glanced at them, a faintly polite look of thanks in your expression before you brushed the treasures aside, dismissing them as easily as the breeze stirred leaves in his gardens.

“it’s lovely,” you had murmured, your voice cool. “but unnecessary.”

unnecessary. the word irritated him, a thorn lodged too deep. unwanted. so he tried another approach.

the next evening, he brought you to his gardens — a place few had the honour of ever seeing.

it was quiet, twilight realm, with silver-petaled trees that glowed softly against the eternal dark. the air was scented with flowers that only bloomed under the moon, and shimmering koi would swim in ponds as black as polished obsidians. he'd assumed it would impress you, even move you to see such peace in a palace that was so fraught with the intimacy of blood, flesh and violence. instead, he felt all of his eyes twitch as you gazed around with a calm, fatigued expression, and nothing more.

"it's beautiful," you had admitted, fingers wringing under the long sleeves of your robe, but you had sniffled and looked back up at him with a mild grimace, "but i have really bad allergies to most flowers."

what the fuck were allergies?

later, he learned that it was some ailments that only mortals could suffer, one that would leave them reddened and swollen, gods be good.

sukuna could feel himself growing frustrated, and the urge to toss you in chains was welling up inside. yet, for reasons that he loathed to name, he fought it down. he didn't want you to leave, didn't want to watch you retreat into your shell yet again. but it was difficult letting the silence linger, this strange vulnerability settling deep within his chest.

and as night fell, alone in his vast chamber, the king of curses was ashamed to admit that he was brooding. if treasures and displays of tranquility meant nothing to you, what would? there was another avenue, one that left a curling, bitter pit in his mouth, a trait that he so loathed to display to all.

humility. how boring. how mortal.

but regardless, he appeared at the wide doors of your chambers the next morning. he had even relished the brief look of surprise on your face, but it was quickly replaced by the cool-glass mask that sat over your features once more. he must have made for quite the sight indeed — in his true form, two arms at his side, and the other two folded behind him.

sukuna didn't quite miss at how your gaze lingered over his vast form, and then your eyes twitched.

“today,” he announced gruffly, “i am going to make you tea. myself.”

how ridiculous, he could imagine uraume snickering to hell and back.

he half expected you to laugh or scorn him, but you simply raised your eyebrows, seemingly quietened and more curious. without waiting for you to decline, he led you to a quiet corner of the chambers, where servants tended to lay out such items, as part of a morning routine. there was a simple tea set, nothing adorned with gold or precious stones, but rather plain and finely crafted porcelain.

he waited for you to settle, watching as you arranged your thick skirts and tucked your legs beneath you. only then did Sukuna speak.

"i don’t like you," he said bluntly. "you’re ill-mannered and audacious. i’ve half a mind to send you back."

you blinked, her lashes lifting in surprise, and a small, satisfying crease formed between your brows before your expression turned into a scowl. "that’s rather unkind."

sukuna shrugged, eyes narrowed. "wouldn’t you say the feeling is mutual?"

you glowered back, unflinching. "you can hardly blame me. you’re a demon, after all. i don’t even know you."

"a 'demon' who has been exceedingly kind to you," he replied, his tone curt, clipped. "there are far worse fates that could have befallen you. i’ve been too amiable to a woman like you."

you had jutted your lower lip forward, your skin catching under your teeth, lips dark as cherries dipped in blood and wine, and for a brief moment, sukuna's ire faltered before refocusing.

"and you think kindness is stuffing me into fancy chambers and draping jewels around my neck? like i'm one of your prized and properly bred deer?"

sukuna leaned forward, arching a brow with lazy derision. "don't speak ill of my prized herd. but go on, preach to me of kindness."

your scowl deepened. "you haven’t even bothered to ask me a single thing about myself. showering me with material things isn’t how you make someone happy, much less a wife. the servants told me you forbade me from attending your court, and i'm left alone in this palace for days on end."

sukuna blinked, yes, he had forbidden you from attending court, but that was for both your dignities. it would be disastrous to expose you to the fools, murderers, and curses of his realm — a mortal bride, naive and untrained, would only appear weak and vulnerable.

"fine," he said, with a hint of resignation, and ridicule. "i’ll ask things about you from now on. would that make you feel better, little wife?"

he pushed the tea he’d prepared towards her, holding the porcelain cup in his hands. "now, go on. drink this."

your gaze remained cool as you eyed the steam brewing in the cup. "the first thing you should know is that i don’t like this tea, you picked the wrong leaves. you drink it, good husband."

sukuna resisted the urge to throw the boiling liquid at you, but instead he pushed the cup into your empty hands, "don’t be a fuckin' brat. behave and drink it."

you didn't say anything, but you shoved the cup back into his larger hands, and sukuna snarled, thrusting the delicate tea with a greater force than expected, and splash!

the silent tug of war had resulted in the bitter leaves being strewn across the heavy silk layers of your robes, and despite himself, sukuna couldn't help how his lips quirked upwards at your shocked, angry expression as you launched yourself up, flicking your sleeves in his face like a flapping bird, muttering furious, filthy words that not even a sailor would sing on his most drunken of nights.

as you stormed around the chamber like an angry parrot, sukuna watched you silently, and surely he could not be faulted for this. he would not admit this ever, but it was pleasing to rest his eyes on your figure, on your face, on the cling of your robes to the curve of your hips.

"go sit on the bed."

you whipped around, glaring at him. "i will not! stop telling me what to do."

"enough of being difficult, sit down."

now your voice had begun to falter, "i need to change my robes. this is improper if i'm to leave these chambers."

by now, he had stood and moved quick to the edge of the vast canopy bed, where you had perched yourself gingerly. close, all too close, where he could inhale the intoxicating scent of honey and mint, a fresh soap perhaps?

"i will determine what is proper, and improper," sukuna murmured, and there, for the first time in written history, the king of curses dropped to his knees.

and he relished the flush on your cheeks, a red brushstroke that had appeared as quick as a fallen star, running your skin awash with heat. you had peered down at him, squirming under his many-eyed gaze. and he enjoyed this, relished at bringing himself closer to her long skirts, until his hands found their place on your thighs.

"what are you — " your words trailed off, tone breathier, as he pawed suddenly at the silk, pushing it up, and up. revealing the stockings you had worn to combat the winter cold, where the hem clung to the fat of your thighs, and so close to the silk of your innermost garments that were now starting to feel like an awful suffocation.

"what am i doing? helping you, or is this not a manner of how a husband can treat his unruly wife?"

you couldn't help but feel a shiver run through you, a tremble pass through your very core as the world around you faded, and all you could focus on was the pair of warm, large hands that ran along your sensitive skin.

"ah, ah —," sukuna rumbled smoothly, lips quirked up a fraction, "we can't have you suddenly shy now, can we? had quite the mouth on you a minute ago."

you weren't sure where to direct your gaze. to the window outside, frosted from the cold hands of winter. to your hands, which lay at your side, rumpled up in your bundled skirts. or to the blush-haired king between your legs, whose carmine eyes were crinkled in feigned amusement, and darkened with undeniable lust.

he taps the plush of your thighs once more, watching as they ripple under the press of his fingertips, "enough being coy. spread them. i do not have all day."

it would not have been a falsehood to claim that a deeper, headier feeling lay in your abdomen, purring like a beast that begged for its maws to be free. undoubtedly, a puddle of slick would be pressing against the silk of your undergarments, like a translucent stain that created a darker, glossy patch between your legs.

but you did not budge, did not move your thighs further. you loathed to admit this to a living soul, but perhaps you found satisfaction in this. there was a sort of pleasure in watching a mighty being brought low, and close to the apex of your thighs. but it seemed that your husband's limited patience had worn thin.

his dark nails dug into your thighs brusquely, in a tight and unyielding grip, knocking them back as if he had no time to spare for anything else in the world.

"fuck you, you're so -," and then your voice breaks off, as the king of curses is pressing his tongue against the sleek, dampened fibres of your undergarments.

and it's oddly...pleasing for sukuna. how intoxicating. he runs his tongue between his teeth, catching around a fang as he fights back the realisation that this is no chore for him, not anymore. perhaps both parties in this room have their own vested interests now.

he pushes his fingers past the undergarments, where slender fingers find a home in the gloss that's practically leaking out of you, "i do not bore you so much now, do i?"

"shut up, - ah!"

he's practically twirling his middle and ring finger between your folds now, letting them run a smooth dance over glistening skin and it left you keening and whimpering, for he was so so close to where you truly wanted him, needed him.

but you need not even articulate this wanton request for him, for his mouth is back on your core, and he's clearly enjoying this without abandon, and without shame. strands of sweet slick splattered across his chiseled features, clinging to his lips but he seemed to care not, and you could only moan and squeal when his fangs made contact with more force that intended.

one arm has your thighs pinned back, leaving a clear space for him to slot his wide frame in between the gap, and another works to pump fingers between your tight walls. a mortal man may be exhausted to his limits in such a state, after all, what can one accomplish when limited by two limbs?

but your husband is no mortal man. a third hand has been running down your groin, past the hair on your mound and from there, a thumb right on your throbbing clit. you feel as though you forget how to breathe when his fingers waywardly flick around, and you cry out, the feeling leaving you breathless and your heart absolutely pounding for reprieve.

"so now she can behave," sukuna's voice is low, mocking and your hands find purchase in the surprisingly soft strands of his hair, pulling forward, as you can't help but get another jibe in.

"if only you had done, hah - this from the start," your voice curls up the sky, weak to your own ears.

smack!

a sharp and shrill cry left your parted lips, as the thick pads of his fingers had come pressing down on your swollen bud. and you could feel stars building up between your eyes, caressing you and taking your breath away.

sukuna looks pleased, mouth glistening and his crimson eyes narrow, "that will teach you to speak when you're spoken to, brat."

and you can only yank on his scalp harder, relishing in how you can feel his broad shoulder's jostle as you do so. your husband's face is flushed, brows furrowed and later you will wonder and marvel at just how intently he seemed to be enjoying such a task that he claimed was so menial and beneath him.

you pity the servants who will not speak a word, but exchange glances as they bundle up the sheets after this. for it's nothing but a syrup-laden mess by now, sloppy and purely wet.

by now the world has long disappeared behind you, in front of your very eyes, and you can only heave your chest towards the sky, rolling your eyes back and shamelessly giving into the wanton moans that bubble out from your lips.

and sukuna is nothing short of utterly satisfied. one look at his mouthy wife's expression, cherry lips parted in a perfect circle, and brows furrowed like a painting — like arrows leaving their bow and finding their target. you need to finish on his tongue, he needs you to finish.

so he pushes his face into your sloppy, sticky cunt even harder. he even lets you run your hands through his hair (a criminal offence, he is certain but perhaps he'll let you go, just this once). he almost purrs when your hands wander further onto his neck, leaving small scratches that almost make him release into his pants.

but now all his energy is poured into making sure you get your climax, that you submit to him and let him have you.

"are you close, little wife?" his voice is akin to gravel now, raw like each clipped syllable was a little too rough for the air to carry. and he only receives breathy whimpers in response, your hips moving off their own accord against his face.

and it's only when you jolt against him, stiffening and crying out praises to the heavens and to the gods, that he loosens up, and pulls you even closer, till your thighs are spread entirely at the widest angle they may reach, enough to leave the muscles in your thighs sore and aching afterwards, "there are no gods here, wife. you best get used to that."

and afterwards, you cannot help the bubbling, bashful grin that erupts over your bitten, stung lips as you peer at your husband who dutifully rests in between your thighs still, you could get used to that indeed.

"do it again."

[prythianpages]

Too Good To Be True | Lucien x Reader

...you're just too good to be true...can't take my eyes off of you...

summary: in which your newest muse catches you red handed.

word count: 1,600

a/n: I do struggle writing Lucien but I had seen this tiktok and wanted to write a meet-cute over it and when I saw this fanart above made by IG user kri_stasss_, I took this as a sign lol. I also listened to the song can't take my eyes off of you like 100x while writing this.

With a sigh, you lean back into your seat, allowing your eyes a break. You had been sitting at the corner of the bustling cafe for over an hour, choosing to surround yourself with Velaris’s warmth and the smell of coffee in the hopes to finally draw something.  But your sketchbook is spread open on the table with a half-finished drawing.

You look at the view before you, the Sidra River shimmering like pure sapphire under the sun’s gaze. The leaves of surrounding trees rustling gently in the soft spring breeze and flowers vibrant hues adorn the riverwalk. It’s a beautiful sight–one that many stop and admire. Yet, it is not enough to fuel the inspiration you so desperately need.

The flowing water and distant laughter of children blend into a soothing symphony as you absentmindedly twirl your pencil between your fingers, thoughts drifting. Send me a muse, you plead to the Cauldron, yearning to feel that thrill again.That spark that ignites your passion of drawing. The very one that moves your hand effortlessly across the paper.

The sound of iron against pavement startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. You blink your eyes back into focus and instinctively, they land on the source of the noise. The table diagonal from you, that had been vacant for the past hour, now has an occupant. An occupant who is blocking your view of the Sidra River, the very one that is half drawn across your sketchbook.

But you can’t bring yourself to complain.

Not when there is a man of striking beauty seated there. 

His mere presence commands your attention, his red hair catching the sunlight and gleaming like fire. You feel your breath catch in your throat as your eyes trace the elegant lines of his face. Brutal scars mar the left side of his face–from his brow all the way down to his jaw. 

Despite this, the male is devastatingly handsome. Ethereal. 

Too good to be true, you think, finding yourself captivated by his eyes. His right eye, whole and russet-colored, holds a depth that draws you in. But his left eye…His left eye is a mechanical marvel, golden and intricate, and gleaming with an otherworldly light.  

And suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to touch him. To reassure yourself that he is real and not just a figment of your imagination. Gods, with a face and built body like his, he’d be heaven to touch…

A rush of excitement floods your veins and you feel a familiar thrill coursing through you. Your hands are turning the pages of your sketchbook until a blank page sits before you. And before you know it, you’re pouring your awe and fascination into each stroke of your pencil. Your eyes flicker up and down as you commit the details to mind, heart pounding every time with the fear of being caught. 

Though you're cautious about it, you’re too lost in his eyes to catch the way the male’s lips curve slightly upwards.

**

Lucien takes the last sip of his coffee, admiring the sight before him. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in twilight hues and dancing across the Sidra River. Along the riverwalk, Fae stroll leisurely. Couples walk hand in hand, children skipping along the cobblestone path, pausing to catch the fireflies that are now visible in the dimming light.

Velaris was proving to be more beautiful with each passing day—a sight he’d never expected from a place like the Night Court. All his life, he had only come to know the Court of Nightmares. A place that truly lived up to his name. And though there were children laughing and running freely, he couldn’t help but still be wary of the City of Starlight. It was still part of the Night Court, after all.

His eyes scan along the riverwalk, golden eye making a soft sound as it moves, in search of something. Or rather, someone. Just as a frown is about to settle on his face, he finds what he was searching for. The reason why he was at this cafe…despite the fact that the best espresso in town was at a little coffee shop in the Rainbow of Velaris.

You.

You are sitting at a bench, knees drawn up and a sketchbook nestled onto your lap. As the sun continues to make its descent, the street lamp near you croaks to life. It bathes you in its soft glow and he is able to appreciate the slight furrow of your brow, the slight way your lips purse in concentration. He wants to know what you're drawing.

Ever since he caught you staring at him at this very cafe, he had an inkling as to what may be hidden within those pages of your sketchbook. He had meant to approach you about it but you had been so into your sketch, he found the sight endearing and feared disrupting you. 

So he had left you to it and showed up to the cafe the next day at the same time in the hopes of seeing you again and he did. That time, your gazes had met and though it had been brief, it felt everlasting. He remembers the way your cheeks tinted with blush before you turned your head away, flustered at being caught. If only you had seen the way he had smiled softly to himself afterwards.

It’s been days since that incident. Though he didn’t find you in that same spot the day after, he came to the conclusion that this was your favorite area to frequent in Velaris. It slowly became his too, his eyes always finding you amongst the busy riverwalk. 

Lucien had never been the shy type–at least, not when it came to pursuing people he was interested in. He had just been waiting for the right time–for the right moment to talk to you. And as you closed your sketchbook with a light exhale, his heart fluttered as he realized what better time than now.

**

Calling it a night, you close your sketchbook with a soft sigh. The sun had been replaced by the moon and the street lamp’s light was too dim for your liking to continue you drawing. You feared messing up what you had meticulously spent hours on. As you rise from the bench and turn to make your way back home, you bump into a smaller frame than yours, the sketchbook in your hold falling from your grasp.

“Sorry, miss!” A lively voice chirps and when you look toward the source, the small child is already far away from you. Kids, you muse to yourself as you turn back around.

Your breath catches in your throat. Standing right in front of you is the male who has become your muse.

But he’s not looking at you.

No, he’s looking at the sketchbook on the ground. Your heart skips a beat, heat rising to your face. The sketchbook had opened to the pages you've been working on—the ones with multiple sketches of his eyes.

You’re frozen in horror, watching as he studies your work. None of you say anything for a moment. It’s when his gaze lifts to yours that you spring into action. “Oh,” you gasp, beginning to bend your knees to gather your belongings. You're absolutely mortified, praying to the Cauldron he can’t hear how fast your heart is racing.

“I’m so sorry.”

Before your hand can reach for your sketchbook, another hand beats you to it.

“Don’t be,” he says, his voice deep and enchanting, causing your hand to freeze in midair. There seems to be a magnetic pull in his words, a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. Is there anything about this male that is not attractive?

“I’ve never seen the beauty of my eyes until now.”

The words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them. “You’re joking, right?”

He’s knelt before you, his hand hovering over your book. But instead of picking it up for you, he grasps for your hand instead. It’s warm and calloused yet feels so good against yours. Like heaven. His eyes finally meet yours, holding you captive. He slowly brings your hand to his lips, and you don’t think you’re breathing as he presses his lips against your skin.

“No,” he grins as he rises to his full height, using his free hand to grab your sketchbook before bringing you with him. “I’m Lucien.”

It takes you a moment to realize he is waiting for you to speak, his presence overwhelming but exhilarating.

“I’m—” you clear your throat to steady your voice. “I’m y/n.”

“y/n,” Lucien repeats with a smile, finally handing you over your sketchbook.

You take it, immediately clutching the book tightly to your chest and avert your gaze, casting it downwards. “I promise I’m not a creep. I was drawing the Sidra–well, attempting to, anyway. But then you came along, blocking my view and something came over me. You see, I’ve been struggling with artist block and your eyes–your eyes are so pretty”--and under your breath, you mutter–” All of you is, if I’m going to be honest…”–Lucien’s smile widens at that–”and I finally felt inspired–oh gods, I’m rambling. I should just shut my mouth.”

Lucien’s russet eye twinkles with amusement. “I inspired you?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly and bashfully.

“Then perhaps,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “I should let you inspire me as well.”

Slowly, you lift your head back up, meeting his eyes once more. A wave of relief surges through you as you find nothing but sincerity and shared interest in his gentle gaze. You find yourself mirroring his smile, and something warm blossoms in Lucien’s chest—the start of something beautiful.

And he can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the Night Court isn’t so bad after all.

a/n: okay, that's enough Lucien for now. Can't keep letting him distract me because I need to focus back on the other Vanserra *cough* Eris *cough*

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen

[yumeka-sxf]

Henderson and Martha backstory in today's new chapter...was not expecting that, but it was really good! I know people were shipping them before, but now the ship has really set sail 😅

So Martha is the origin of Henderson's "Elegant" catchphrase...how cute, lol.

Now we know why Henderson was so shocked when Becky said this! 😂

I'm not into reading fanfics, but I still got some "Twiyor Eden AU" vibes from this chapter!

I see some of Twilight in young Henderson: Twilight is constantly conflicted with keeping up his spy persona despite growing feelings for his family, just like Henderson was obsessed with perfectly upholding the rules of Eden...until he started to realize that even the prestigious school was being corrupted.

Also similarly, Twilight's realization about the need for information, which eventually led to him becoming a spy, is just like Henderson's realization about the need for education, which led to him becoming a teacher.

And still another similarity is Henderson becoming so obsessed with his pursuit of education that he cast aside desires of wanting to have fun and enhance relationships with others...just as Twilight has been doing since he became a spy. But it seems like present day Henderson realized how ignorant he was back then...maybe Twilight will eventually realize this about himself as well?

I've mentioned many times before that I love how Endo is able to so seamlessly bring darker themes into otherwise non-dark stories, which makes the setting, characters, etc, more interesting. Even in something so simple like the short mission with Bond last chapter where he gives a glimpse into the horrors of animal experimentation, in this chapter he brings in themes of impending war and corrupt education in what would otherwise be a benign school romance story.

Looks like this arc will continue with at least another chapter, possibly more! I'm still curious to see how Martha ended up becoming a soldier and eventually working for the Blackbells. Or maybe she ended up being part of Garden, as some people theorize. Regardless, I really don't think ballet stayed her main focus throughout her life. Also, didn't Henderson eventually get married and have a child later on? Hope we'll learn even more about them in the next chapter!

[childrenofcain-if]

just tried out the demo and i love it, but ngl C was nicer than I expected, offering to help MC out with shopping for an outfit like 5 minutes after reuniting and calling MC beautiful. like damn, i was expecting the pettiness levels of Blaise from Creme de la Creme or Blaine from When Twilight Strikes.

anyway, I don't know if you read manga but C and MC kinda remind me of the duo in Last Game with the rivalry lol. just wondering how oblivious can MC go when romancing C, can C realize they're in love before MC does, and if yes, would they be willing to confess to MC or would they be too prideful and try to get MC to fall in love "first"?

C’s thoughts are pretty complicated, especially when it comes to MC. they’re the definition of hot and cold, one second they’ll be insulting you to your face and the next, they’re annihilating somebody who tried to come at you for some reason. they’re so emotionally stunted in a way that they don’t even realise that what they’re doing might be confusing for MC and their feelings.

as far as obliviousness goes, C will definitely have the chance to figure out their feelings before MC does. it’ll be quite an ordeal for C to confess to them. it’ll be the equivalent of pulling teeth for C 💀 eventually tho, they’d be willing to put their ego aside to admit that they’re in love with MC, most probably in a very life-or-death situation 🤭

[itsmaferart]

Keep your hands off my woman!!

Leaving aside the most important part of the chapter, Yor must kiss her husband for world peace and the Twiyor nation to be happy.

I think it's a good message if we look deeper into how the stereotypical duality of women is portrayed to us, which I think is a message that can encompass anyone in general.

The most conventional romantic movies are usually about the man being - stereotypically - the strongest and the one who must protect the woman, who wins his sensitive heart and makes the hero bring out his sweetest feelings.

Becky being a little girl has in her heart the fantasy of a sweet romantic love just like the one in her novels and movies. But sometimes, people are not so conventional.

Both Anya and Yor, don't feel comfortable being pigeonholed into “girls waiting to be passively rescued”, because within themselves the love for the people around them is a drive to be strong, take action and save others.

I feel that one of Endo's best points, is her way of undertaking a concept of what femininity, or rather, “feminine energy”, represents. Feminine energy is a force that comes from feelings, it is fluctuating and unpredictable, sometimes like a gentle breeze and sometimes like a terrible hurricane.

Most of Endo's female characters are strong, independent women who do not need to be rescued. And they are very willing to put themselves in the face of danger to protect those they love. This is something we have seen, with characters like Yor, Sylvia, Martha, Fiona, and they have been able to save other men or take on subjects much larger and more muscular than them.

Even with girls like Anya who we know very well is a very brave girl and has been in the face of danger despite her age (maybe too much, our poor baby is only 4 to 5 years old, God), and has the strength to send a bully flying (and fall in love in the process) on the first day of school.

So …. if women are strong …. men are weak?

Absolutely not!

Everyone, regardless of gender, is strong. We know perfectly well that Twilight is someone capable of taking care of himself, is someone who is physically trained and has enormous intelligence. Even Yuri has survived so many dangers that we wonder how the hell he didn't die. Damian is a brave guy (when he doesn't see an insect lol).

The point is, even though women and men (or any gender in general) are strong. We all have our weaknesses, our sensitive sides.

You can do things on your own, but you don't have to do everything at once....

Clearly, although Yor is physically strong, she has problems with metal and verbal confrontations. Because her insecurities are so great that when they make her doubt herself and her own value, she tends to lose it and that is when Loid is there for her, not to take care of her because she is weak, but to remind her of her own value (because she doesn't seem to realize it herself) and to make her see that she is worthy of the understanding and love of others. In the same way that Yor reminds him that he too can be a little weak and take refuge in her.

Even if we feel weak and awkward, we can take initiative....

I think it is very important, the idea that Yor or anyone in general can have the “initiative” to seek on their own that “love” that you so desire.

Many times we feel that if we don't fit into the expected canon, or social archetype we are not worthy of love. (Feminine women who feel vulnerable and who depend on the guy to live are the ones who get love in the end). When nothing could be further from the truth….

Being weak and vulnerable is something totally natural and not exclusive to one gender or social role. We are all weak and strong at the core, and we need each other to complement each other and to be able to enjoy much more of our own love and the love we can give and receive from others.

Yor's desire to actively seek love (kissing her husband a lot) is not only a way to develop her bond with Loid, but a way to grow her self-esteem and challenge her insecurities. To stop seeing herself as a child in front of the world, but a woman who can get things because she wants them (and has her husband's consent, of course) (But, come on, we all know Loid needs kisses from Yor).

[danieyells]

care to spoil any interesting dialogue Haku has when you reach higher affinity levels? Would love to know!

Haku's so. . .normal, it's kinda cute? Lol. But yeah I'm pretty down for that! I wanted to share one of these things but held my tongue lolol but since you're asking here're some of the ones that were more interesting or otherwise appealing to me!

I've amended this post to be all of Haku's home screen lines. Enjoy!

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Oh, finally here, huh? I'm not really ready for you yet though... Ha ha. Wait over there for me, would you?"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Oh, looks like you've got a letter. If you don't open it soon, I might sneak a peek."

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"How's the search for clues about your curse going? Don't put too much pressure on yourself. If you ever want to talk, I'm happy to listen."

"Most people in Hotarubi have something they put their heart and soul into. That doesn't really work for me though. I lose interest in things way too easily."

"What are you doing here? Don't tell me you've gotten yourself mixed up in something again."

this is a very funny one to have him say when i use the sinostra casino as my home screen bg

"Haha. Don't expect too much from me. Ghouls are just glorified street magicians, really. Let's keep it light, huh?"

'glorified street magicians' is a hell of a way to describe. . .a lot of the stigmas we've got going here lmao

"Boo! Ha ha, didn't think you'd get that scared. I was just getting rid of the shadow imp that was sticking to your back... I'm kidding! There was nothing there, I promise."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"...So, how about we take a walk? This dorm's seen better days, so it's tough work checking all the places that need repairs."

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"You've adjusted to life at Darkwick pretty well, haven't you? Not that anomalies and missions are something you'd want to get used to..."

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Today doesn't really work for me... I'm going to be getting back to the dorm pretty late, so can we do tomorrow instead?"

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"...Hate to be the one to tell you this, but there's something untoward lingering behind you. Don't look! Hah, I was just kidding. It was just a little dust, see?"

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Twilight has been a lot quieter than usual today... I hope that's not a bad sign."

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Subaru's just too nice. Keeping all the eccentrics in Hotarubi in check's gotta be rough."

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Everyone here comes from different backgrounds and has different gifts. There's no reason you should feel out of place."

'we're all unique, including the most ordinary among us.' good lesson!

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Looks we're going to make it through today without any disasters. At least I hope so."

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"What are you doing out here? You shouldn't walk around at night with your guard down. Don't come crying to me if you get possessed by a fox spirit, you hear?"

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Your parents ever tell you ghosts would get you if you don't go to bed? For some reason Zenji's the only one who gets spooked when I say that..."

after the reveal that zenji is a ghost this is so funny actually I LOVE THAT ZENJI IS A GHOST WHO'S AFRAID OF GHOSTS AND THE DARK.

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"All these geniuses and their lectures are giving me heartburn. Wouldn't mind hearing the woes of someone long-suffering instead every once in a while."

(this sounds cruel but from what i can tell in Japanese he says he'd rather hear stories about hard workers/people who struggled from the bottom than prodigies. Basically he's more interested in, y'know, ordinary folks than people who're really special.)

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"That video I took of Zenji today? I'm just going to do some quick editing and post it. I don't know why he doesn't just focus on content that's more his style..."

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I saw Tohma a little while ago. Been a while since we last had a real chat. Sounds like he's got his hands full, as always."

so i initially left this one out of this post because i didn't think much of it but. . .the way Haku regards Tohma is so much more casual than Tohma regards Haku in retrospect, it seems. To Haku, Tohma's just the usual hard worker. Someone he'd actually enjoy having a conversation with. But Tohma speaks to Haku almost as if with suspicion or disdain. . .then again he speaks kind of coldly to Jin too. Maybe that's just how he is with people he kind of knows or views as more on his level. Or it's something more sinister. Who knows.

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"Mornin'. You've got a sleep mark on your face. Yeah, right there. Good to know you got a good night's rest."

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"You haven't collected all the papers that were supposed to be submitted by today's deadline yet? Who are you waiting on? Got it. I'll go get them for you."

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I don't mean to scare you, but... be careful with your right leg. Especially when you're in the main building."

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Getting cold feet when you try to jump into the deep end is just proof you're a normal human being. We're the crazy ones."

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Can't sleep? In that case, let's go for a little walk. There's actually something I want to talk to you about."

pretty high affinity to be having chats on night walks. . .i wonder what he wanted to talk about.

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Just having someone you care about at your side is all you really need... Ha ha. That was a little out of character, huh? My bad."

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Oh, you're awake. I was just about to make some tea to wake myself up. Want some?"

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"It's not very often I get to kick back like this in the middle of the day. Maybe I'll take a nap."

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"None of us wanted to become like this. Living an ordinary life, and dying an ordinary death— why go after more than that?"

He just wants to be normal. And he can't. It's kinda tragic lol

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"(Yawn) Oh, didn't see you there. Haha... Guess I've been letting my sleep debt build up. I'm going to bed."

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Being cursed really sucks, huh? You can't help but ask yourself, "Why me?" all the time, even when you know it's a question with no answer."

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"I know I'm being selfish— but sometimes, I wish you'd just forget about me..."

WHY. . .ARE YOU THE SUS ONE AND YOU FEEL BAD THAT YOU'LL BETRAY THEM? DO YOU JUST FEEL LIKE YOU'RE TOO LUCKY HAVING HAD FALLEN FOR SOMEONE NORMAL WHEN YOU KNOW YOU'RE NOT NORMAL ANYMORE? DO YOU FEEL LIKE THE PC DESERVES SOMEONE NORMAL AND TO BE ABLE TO GO BACK TO A NORMAL LIFE BUT BEING WITH YOU GUARANTEES THEY WON'T? WHY DO YOU WANT THEM TO FORGET YOU. . .he's so interesting to me simply because of how much he tries to keep himself apart from his being a ghoul(and, y'know, seeing spirits and shit--) so he can try and just be any other guy. . .and he can't lol his surroundings, who and what he is, he can't go back to being normal! It's a charming way to have a boy next door sort of personality i think lol

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"I've been noticing more birds in the garden lately. Is that a bush warbler? A white-eye, maybe? A lot going on during spring in Hotarubi."

Boy knows his birbs.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Heading into another nice, warm afternoon. Maybe I should take a nap...? Oops, nearly forgot I promised Zenji I'd film him."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Must be nice being a ghost—no hayfever, and no hangovers. Spring really is the embodiment of human weakness."

How drunk did you get last night buddy. . . .

(between 8pm and 5am)

"My family home is pretty famous in our area for its cherry blossoms... When I was a kid, my friends and I used to go exploring through them at night."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"It's so humid... Days like this make me miss Frostheim..."

He's former Frostheim! Maybe that's why he and Tohma seem to have some history. There's also Jin's friend who left that Tohma helped to switch houses. . .but Haku was a second year then so would he have needed it?

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Today, I've got to go round and check the stalls for the festival Hotarubi is holding— wouldn't want any dangerous charlatans sneaking their way in."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Zenji's off roaming around somewhere again... People are more sensitive this time year, so I wish he'd just stay put..."

AGAIN, BEFORE WE LEARNED HE WAS A GHOST I READ THIS AND THOUGHT PEOPLE HE MEANT LIKE. . .SENSITIVE EMOTIONALLY TO NOISE AND ZENJI'S BIWA PLAYING. I DID NOT REALIZE THAT HE WAS WORRIED PEOPLE WOULD REALIZE ZENJI WAS THERE.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"You're not going to wear a yukata? Eh, I just thought it'd be cute to see. That's the kind of thing guys think about, don't know what else to tell you."

It reads like he's a little disappointed the girl he's into friends with isn't gonna wear something he thinks is cute lol

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"They say fall is the season of the arts, but I'm a really mediocre flute player. I'm about as uncultured as you can get."

funny thing for an ex-frostheimer to say.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"You can hear the biwa, right? He's been going for three hours now. People are going to start getting pissed off, so I'll go tell him to stop soon."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Nightfall can catch you unaware this time of year. It'll be dark soon, so let me know when you're planning to head home. I'll walk you back to the cathedral."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"It's a stunner of a night. Maybe I'll grab a drink and do a little moon gazing."

don't drink too much you're trying to quit smoking, the solution isn't to replace it with another addiction--

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"You'll catch a cold dressed like that. It's already pretty chilly out there, you know... Here, take my coat."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Winter rain really chills you to the bone. Sorry, walking through the garden must be rough for you this time of year. Come a little closer."

I'm a bit of a sucker for huddling together in the cold lol

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"It's cold again today. Now that I think of it, Subaru said he wanted to make hotpot with everyone. Guess I'll go grab some things and make it happen."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Your hands hurt because of the cold? Let me see. Oh yeah, your fingertips are all red. Here, stick them in my pockets."

Is that your flute in your pocket or are you completely unaffected by the cold

His birthday: (July 26th)

"Wait, you got me a birthday present? You're so conscientious. Oh, I didn't mean it in a bad way. Thanks, I appreciate it."

Your birthday:

"Hey, come over here a sec. Here. It's nothing special, but I got you a something. Today's your birthday, right?"

why is this worded like he's asking you to come into a shady alley in secret to give you a birthday gift lmao

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. I know it's a cliché, but I hope this year's a good one for you."

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Whoa, chocolate? I didn't think you'd give them to me too. Guess I better think of something good to get you in return."

White Day: (March 14th)

"Here, for the chocolate you got me last month. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I got the ones I remember you said were good."

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"A bunch of spirits have been following you around all day, are you okay? Psych, just kidding. Seriously, I was joking, I swear."

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Looks like you've had your fair share of tricks today. I'll narrow down your options and just make it a treat, then."

Christmas: (December 25th)

"You look like you're having fun. Do you have a present for me, Little Miss Santa? Haha, I'm just kidding. Here you go. Merry Christmas."

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"...Hey, you alive? Not much point me just standing here waiting around. Guess I'll take off."

(13 affinity and above)

"I know I look like a slacker, but I do have stuff to do. Guess I'll nap till she gets back."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Hey there, stranger. Everyone's missed you, you know. ...Even I was starting to get a little worried."

Those're the ones that're most interesting to me I think! 'u' there are some that aren't up there though, like some of the ones that show him being responsible and worrying about his teammates haha. Hope you don't mind my little commentary here and there!

A while later and I've amended this post to include all of the home screen voicelines, not just the ones that appealed to me most in that moment! Haku's interesting in how. . .normal he is. Aside from the seeing spirits and things anyway lmao. He's just a casual flirt who wants to escape the abnormality that his becoming a ghoul got him. I feel like his lines don't really reveal anything about him. . .but also 19 in particular feels. . .a little lonely? Maybe because of how he had to leave Frostheim, he doesn't really feel as connected to the Hotarubi ghouls yet, compared to how he was with Jin before? Or, if he is the spy, he feels like all of his relationships are fake. . .and man that 'I wish you'd just forget about me' line is sad but also SO SUSPICIOUS. WHO SAYS THAT IF THEY DON'T PLAN ON LEAVING YOU OR STABBING YOU IN THE BACK.

[manias-wordcount]

Actually, whatever link you think is best for eating out a reader lol

You have good taste (no pun intended) I trust your judgement here

Eating S/o Out HCs (Adult Link)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀. 𝗶 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝘄 𝘂𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘇 𝗳𝗮𝗻, 𝗶 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀. 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆����𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗲𝗵𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲 :)

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 !! 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 (𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹) 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗟𝗢𝗟

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

Skyward Sword

Favorite Position?

You? Sitting on his face.

Sleepy boy likes to take things easy

So having you grind on his tongue all you want while he’s laying in bed? The absolute dream

He definitely won’t be too loud when he’s with you since his mouth is a little more than occupied

But you can earn yourself a groan or two from him whenever you dug at his hair

He probably likes the fact that he has the perfect view of your expressions while you make yourself feel good

But try not to run away from his mouth when things start to feel too good

Because he’ll be quick to grab your hips and keep you right where you started

He might seem a bit lazy but the Hero of the Skies is always gonna finish what he started- including you <3

Twilight Princess

Favorite Position?

You on your back with his face between your thighs of course!

I’m talking full-on muff diving

He’s 1000% the type to enjoy eating you out just because he has so much control over your body and your pleasure like this

Not to mention, he can watch you squirm and whine all he wants with the perfect view

He’s definitely really good at reading what you need and want from him

And he’s even better a giving or denying you that too, unfortunately

But if you’re close, you’ll get exactly what you want as long as you beg for it <3

And I mean really beg for it- wolf boy is a sweetheart but he doesn’t work for free

Though just try not to act too surprised when he tongue fucks you through an orgasm

Breath of the Wild

Favorite Position?

Him kneeling before you as you throw a leg over his shoulder and he goes to town

Bonus points for him if he can get away with eating you out while outside and against some random tree

They don’t call him wild for nothing <3

Now he’s been out of the game for a little bit so he might be a little rusty

But don’t worry- he makes up for all of that with his enthusiasm hehe

Out of the Links, he’s the one who will practically beg you to let him go down on you because he’s bored and has nothing to do while dinner cooks

But whatever happens…do NOT pull his hair. no matter how good it feels

You don’t want to encourage him too much while he’s already up your skirt

You do want to be able to walk on your own two legs later, right?

Hyrule Warriors

Favorite Position?

69 with you on top, naturally

He’s definitely a bit of an ass man so I hope you don’t mind him spreading and playing with some cheeks

And of course, he loves the feeling of your lips wrapped around his dick don’t get me wrong

But to him? It’s not as good as seeing you try to look back at him when he’s going crazy on that clit

He obviously going to be good at what he does- like have you seen him

With the way he fights it’s should come as no surprise that his first move is going to be trying to overwhelm his opponent (or in this case, you <3)

Loves receiving and giving sure but he’s the type of guy to get off on seeing his partner whimper and moan and struggle to keep up

So you can expect things to get a little more than heated as he attempts to make you scream his name

He won’t stop until you’ve made a mess of his face so you better hold onto to something- like that scarf perhaps?? ;]

[panlight]

you know, last night out of boredom I was scrolling around tv tropes site and fell into a rabbit hole, and thru that I found entries for the Twilight Saga on the "Unintentionally Unsympathetic" and "Protagonist-Centered Morality" tropes that I found intriguing. Specifically about the Cullens:

In Unintentionally Unsympathetic

They are held up as the epitome of generosity and goodness. Even so, they generally are cold and anti-social to anyone who isn't another vampire or Bella, they are hostile towards the werewolves even though some (for example, Alice) never even met the werewolves before, and they are perfectly fine with letting vampires that do drink human blood hang around the area.

There's a scene in Breaking Dawn where the Cullens invite a bunch of vampires into town and give them keys to their cars so that they can feed on humans from out of town, because apparently their friends murdering people is okay so long as they don't know the people being murdered.

In Protagonist-Centered Morality

And by Breaking Dawn, the Cullens have agreed that they need backup if the Volturi are coming to get their murder on, so they call in every favor they have with the other vampires. Now, the Cullens have sworn to feed only on the blood of animals, these vampires have not, and yet the Cullens are happy to lend them their car to go hunting for humans (and vampires in the setting inevitably kill any human they feed on, unless they're turned) — just as long as Bella doesn't get hurt. Oh, and that they hunt outside Forks so people Bella knows won't die.

Yeaaa,, come to think of it, what was up with that?

My memory of the book is foggy but I did recall some narration where Bella sees the garage empty of some cars and notes that "the vampires had gone off to hunt" (even though??? they can run faster than any car so why bother? ??) and I can't remember if the movie addresses or acknowledges it but.. I DO remember the part where Aro considers having the La Push packs as "guard dogs" and Edward talks about how the idea won't work because the werewolves, being committed to protecting human life can coexist better with them/The Cullens more than the Volturi and now that I read those entries I'm just sitting here like But you're no different letting all those human-eating vampires chill at your place and causing a werewolf explosion?? And being soooo hospitable as to lend your cars for them lol!! At worse you're enabling it!! (facepalm)

Yeah this has always bothered me.

I think in the book it's specifically Edward who is lending out his keys to the visiting vampires. And, genuinely, why would these hundreds of years old nomadic vampires who don't live among humans like the Cullens do even know how to drive??

And also, they aren't even there THAT long? It's like, what? 2 weeks, max? And they don't have to feed that often. Could they really just . . . not hunt during their stay, or try the vegetarian thing to humor their supposed friends? If your vegan friend invited you to their house and you accepted their invitation, you wouldn't expect to be served bacon cheeseburgers for dinner. Or have Carlisle buy more donated human blood as he's been doing for most of the book and offer it to his guests as a 'nice compromise?'

Again, it's like SM didn't actual want to deal with any of the vampire stuff and just kind of swept it under the rug with Bella being "uncomfortable" with their hunting habits. Either a) deal with it! Show us Carlisle trying to persuade people, Emmett betting Garrett, Benjamin, Peter and Charlotte that they couldn't do it, an angry exchange when someone comes back with freshly bright red eyes, something!! or b) explain it away with an alternative like donated human blood, everyone agreeing to try the vegetarian thing, not being there long enough that hunting is necessary, etc.

If you're going to make it not matter you might as well go all the way and actually remove the moral quandary entirely. Instead we're in this sort of unsatisfying middle option when get one paragraph acknowledging that's happening but neither the 'good' vampires nor the shifters (!!) do anything about it because everything is justified in the protection of Renesmee and the furtherance of Bella's happily ever after.

Even though earlier in the! same! book! Sam says: "And inflict the menace on others? When blood drinkers cross our land, we destroy them, no matter where they plan to hunt. We protect everyone we can."

(I mean I GUESS they aren't technically crossing Quileute land but still like . . . c'mon.)

It could have been a cool source of conflict in a section of the book that really kind of needed some! Instead of Bella's little subplot with Jenks not going anywhere and fight training for a fight that never happened, we could have had something more than just, "well I don't like that they're killing people but we need them to witness so, meh."

[megamindsecretlair]

Let Me Hold You

Pairing: Tyrone x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, virginity loss, shy reader, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink if you squint, Soft Tyrone, all consensual. Mentions of religion, God, and Christian-leaning faith. Sorry if I miss any!

Summary: Ask: ...the reader is a virgin church girl, who, finds herself entangled in a predicament when her parents forbid her to be with the charismatic Tyrone. Despite this, the reader has a genuine friendship with him. They have crushes on each other but do not know how to tell each other.

Word Count: 5,803

A/N: Welp. This healed and broke some things in me! LOL. This was a wonderful ask from @notapradagurl7. I'm SO sorry this took forever to get out, I felt so bad. I hope this was worth the wait. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland

“And we don’t want you hanging out with that - that boy!” Your father paced the living room floor, his loafers kicking up the delicate fibers. 

“What?” You shrieked. Already, fear spiked into your heart. The thought of not seeing Tyrone? It was inconceivable. You looked toward your mother who perched on the end of the plump chair, proper as you please. She kept her eyes on your father. You wouldn’t get any help from her.

“I’m an adult, you can’t ban me from seeing my friends,” you protested. Did he really think he was serious? 

“It’s not appropriate for you to spend time with someone like him. If you’re to entertain anyone, there are plenty of nice young men at the church.” 

“Malcolm just returned from college to be an engineer. I always knew that boy was smart,” your mother chirped in. 

Your eyes darted between your parents. You half expected aliens to burst from their necks. These people were foreign to you. Unique in their united anger for Tyrone, a boy you’ve known your entire life. 

“Judge not lest ye be judged,” you quoted. Your mother scoffed and glared at you as if you said you wanted to shake your ass for Satan’s minions. Your father stopped his pacing and gawked at you. Like you were the foreign one. A daughter he didn’t recognize. 

“No daughter of mine will hang around someone like that boy. Peddling that poison to people in this community,” your father said. 

“That boy has been nothing but nice to us. A boy you watched grow up. A boy you assume is doing dirt,” you countered. What episode of the Twilight Zone was this? 

“I have eyes,” your father said. “And I see what’s going on. All the people running in and out of his house, his mother’s house I might add, and bumping that music…”

“I still live at home. Are you going to judge me for that too?” You asked. Your father pressed his lips together. 

“It’s different for women,” your mother said as if it were a fact. 

You tuned your parents out as they tried to tell you the difference between young men and young women. You didn’t have the heart to listen anymore. Your blood roared in your ears and you stared off into space, trying to calm down. 

You stood up suddenly. You needed to be anywhere but here. Looking into their judgemental faces. You made one mistake. Funny how they didn’t take into consideration all of the times you were a “good girl”. How you minded your Ps and Qs your entire life. Never did anything bad. Never wanted to do anything bad.

And now, they wanted to effectively place you under house arrest. Only leaving for school or church. This was not the stone ages. You couldn’t sit here under this oppressive weight. Constantly holding yourself to a higher standard. 

What higher standard? Did God really think that oppressing women was the ticket into Heaven? Placing all of these restrictions was the ultimate symbol of propriety? What happened to love thy neighbor? 

Your parents called after you, but you kept moving. You’d never defied them. You always deferred to them. They had experiences you didn’t and just wanted you to have a good life. Bullshit. They wanted a little doll to dress up and tote around town. 

At the door, you slipped into your flats and left the house. No purse, no phone, no keys. It felt…invigorating. That type of freedom was intoxicating. Your parents’ indignant shouts followed you out of the house but they didn’t come to the door. 

You took that opportunity to head down the block towards Tyrone’s house. You hoped he was home. You hadn’t had a chance to check your phone before your parents ambushed you.

His house looked dark for once. There were no cars bunched up in front of the house or thumping music coming from the front door. You ran up the steps and knocked on the metal door.

The cold air caught up to you, edging past the heat of your anger. It could only warm you up so far. There were no sounds coming from the house so you knocked again. It was still earlyish but you didn’t want to be loud and disrespect his mom. 

“Yeah,” Tyrone called out sleepily. You suppressed a smile. Just hearing his voice instantly calmed you down.

You heard a series of locks and bolts being undone. Tyrone swung the door open. He called out your name and looked behind you. 

“What’s up? We were s’posed to meet?” He asked.

“Can I come in?” You asked.

“Always,” he said. He moved out of the way and let you enter his darkened house. You took in the space and got a chilling sense of loneliness here. You didn’t know why. Tyrone closed the door and locked it.

“I was sleep. Come on,” he said. He took your hand and led you to his room. Inside, the sudden light gave you a tiny ache in your eyes and you rubbed them. Tyrone sat on his bed, leaning one leg up onto the mattress. 

You remained standing, suddenly shy. You hated feeling unsettled wherever you went. Even in the company of your friends, you paid attention to everything you said. Were you being weird? Were you not talking enough? It was all incredibly awkward whenever you tried to join the conversation and people had already moved on to the next topic. 

“What’s up?” Tyrone asked.

You sighed and recounted everything that happened with your parents. You paced his small but comfy room, poking at random objects on his desk or hanging on his wall. He had wrinkled Lakers posters torn in one corner. You picked at it as you spoke, not wanting to look him in the face while you spoke and ranted and raved about your judgy, overbearing parents. 

Tyrone was a great listener. He never interrupted you, he kept his comments to a minimum, and when you were brave enough to look at him, he’d nod for you to continue. So you did. You told him everything, even the part about your parents judging him for his side hustle. 

“They don’t want you to see me anymore because of that?” He asked. 

You nodded and sat on the bed next to him. “I told them they’re nuts. They can’t ban me from seeing you, I’m not sixteen,” you said.

“You were pretty cute when you were sixteen,” he said.

“Shut up! I’m trying to be serious here!” You pushed his shoulder. He moved as if you were strong, but you knew that he let you. Tyrone had always been an immovable force. He moved through life like it owed him money and he was coming to collect. He had a surety about himself that kept you up all night thinking of him. 

Your hand lingered on his bare arms, taking in his large biceps. His navy tank top hung just so, highlighting his broad smooth chest. He wore his signature black basketball shorts and you quickly removed your hand. You should not be having these thoughts about your best friend. 

“I’m serious too!” He said and chuckled. He quickly sobered up and glanced at you. “I’d miss you if I couldn’t see you.” 

You smiled slowly. “You’d only miss the chips I bring you,” you said. 

“Naw, I’d miss you. I’d have to stage a breakout or something,” he said. 

You laughed, picturing hopping into Tyrone’s getaway car just to drive a few houses down. Bonnie and Clyde ya’ll were not. 

You bumped his shoulder with yours. “There’s nothing that can keep us apart,” you said. You stuck out your pinkie finger. Tyrone looked at it and laughed, shaking his head and licking his lips. 

“Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, so you know I’m serious,” you said. You pushed your hand into his chest to urge him to do it with you. He shook his head again and wrapped his pinkie around yours. 

“So what you gonna do since they dropped the hammer?” Tyrone asked. 

“I don’t know,” you said. You tucked your legs under you, holding down your dress so no one got a free show. You played with the hem. “I wish they’d see me as an individual instead of an extension of their dead hopes and dreams.” 

“I feel that. You’re just gonna have to prove that you grown now,” he said with a shrug. 

“There’s nothing I can do. They’ll only see me as a goody two shoes who’s always ready with a smile. Like, I don’t have feelings or something? I’d have to rob a bank or have…” You trailed off as the intrusive thought came to you. 

You became very interested in your dress as you played with the rolled hem. “Have what?” Tyrone prompted.

You hummed and shrugged. “Lost my train of thought. Point is, I’m tired of living and dying by their own expectations,” you said. 

The thought didn’t leave you though. In fact, the more you turned it around in your head, the hotter it got in the room. Your imagination ran away from you, providing images of a naked Tyrone standing over you. Bending you over. Calling you dirty names. You shifted on the bed as the images became a little too vibrant.

You usually indulged in your fantasies late at night, safe and comfortable in your head where no one would know except you. It was harmless to be as nasty as you wanted, getting yourself worked up and needy but ultimately not doing anything about it. Could you imagine trying to order a sex toy and have it sent to the house? Trying to hide the buzz buzz as you got yourself off? It was either the towel on the pillow or your own fingers but once you felt awkward, it was hard to get back into the mood. 

“So don’t live by their expectations. What do you wanna do?” He asked. 

You glanced at him. He treated it as seriously as possible and that only made your heart melt. He was the bestest friend you could have hoped for, growing up together. But would you always be someone he grew up with? Forced to talk about his conquests over and over and wishing it were you? 

You licked your lips and faced him. You sat up straight and looked him in the eyes. Your heart thundered in your chest. You felt the steady beat all over, thumping in your arms and in your head. Now or never. 

“What would you say to a crazy idea?” You asked. 

Tyrone shifted to allow you more room on the bed. “What kind of crazy idea?” He asked slowly. 

You smiled at the mistrust in his voice. You were kind of known for some out of pocket schemes. It was not your fault that Mrs. Edwards came home early that one time. How were you supposed to know? 

You lost a bit of your nerve, looking down at your fingers. You gripped your dress hard, your fingers pressing the thin fabric. “What would you say if I asked you to take my virginity?” 

You risked a glance at him. He was frozen solid, gaping at you. After a moment, he blew out a breath. “Wait, what?” 

“I am tired of doing what people expect of me. Nothing is ever good enough and I never get anything out of the deal. I want something for myself. I want to have sex. I want to have sex with you,” you said. 

He tilted his head so you forged on, explaining why you wanted to have sex. “And I know it might be a little weird considering we’re friends but I’m pretty sure you’re not seeing someone right now? Right? Because I’d rather it be with someone I trust, at least the first time…” You rambled. You were rambling and you couldn’t make yourself stop. You heard the words. You said the words. But you couldn’t find a way to disconnect your brain from your mouth. “And you’re totally free to say no. Like, we can totally forget I asked.” 

After you crawled into a cave or yeeted yourself off of a cliff, surely you could be around Tyrone and not think of this stupid situation. 

You opened your mouth to ramble more because he was just sitting there, but he captured your lips with his. His hands cupped your jaw and pulled you into it, moving your lips against his. Your hands gripped his, but not to push him away. You held him there and kissed him back. Tyrone ran the tip of his tongue to trace around your lips. You gasped and he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You have no fuckin’ clue how long I been wanting to do that,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“Wait, what?” You asked. Your head was pleasantly fuzzy. Like you were full of fluffy clouds. “You’ve been wanting to kiss me?”

“Every time I see you. You got kissable lips,” he said. He made his point by kissing you again, humming low in his throat. He pulled away and ran his thumb across your lips. Each pass of his lips on yours or his calloused fingers on you only made your head fuzzier. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling yourself get more and more worked up.

“Why didn’t you ever say? Especially after ninth grade!” There was once upon a time where you two had danced at the high school you attended. You had found a dark-ish corner away from the chaperones and told Tyrone that you’d never been kissed. He had laid one on you, probably not well now that you thought about it, but it had been so precious to you. He ended it by saying, “Now you have”, and walked away. 

The memory was always bittersweet. But hell, it was still your first kiss. 

“I was a dumb ass kid. I didn’t know how to tell you I liked you more than a friend,” he said. 

Warmth spread from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. This lonely torch you’d been holding for Tyrone wasn’t one sided. You looked into his molten brown eyes and smiled, not knowing how to properly process this new information.

In fact, it blew you away that you were here at this moment. Who knew your holier-than-thou parents were good for something? 

“And now?” You asked.

Tyrone removed his hands from your face and you missed them instantly. He grabbed one of your hands, pulling it across his lap so that you could cup him. You gasped at the sheer size of him. Despite common myths, you have seen a dick before. But you’d never touched one. Held one. Sucked on one. 

Your mouth went dry at the thought. You wanted to suck him, but what if you were bad at it? Your lip rolled in between your teeth and you bit down, wondering the mechanics of it all. 

“Well, you did ask me for something huge. Are you sure?” He asked. His voice held a strange, raspy quality to it. You flicked your eyes back to him and he was breathing a little faster. Oh shit, he really did like you. How the hell did you miss it? 

“I’m very sure,” you said. You pressed your hand in more, stroking him over his basketball shorts. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he opened them and grinned at you. 

“I’ll do it. But I want you to promise me that you’ll tell me if you don’t like something or if you want to stop, okay?” 

You nodded. “I promise. I’m a big girl, I can use my words,” you said. Your hands still moved over him and you must’ve been doing something right because his breaths left him in quick bursts. He rubbed his face and gripped his jaw, eyes tightly shut. 

“Okay, okay,” he said. He stilled your hand on him and moved it off. “Okay, okay. Virgin. Have you done anything? Gotten eaten out?” He asked.

You sighed and shook your head. “Yeah, I just snuck them up to my room while my dad was busy in the kitchen,” you said.

Tyrone chuckled. “Okay, smart ass. Give me a minute. I’m like…I don’t wanna just jump on you even though I want to,” he said. He stood up and rubbed his hands together, jumping in place. 

You giggled. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one,” you said. And you were! Your nerves were shot. Your hands trembled thinking of what the hell you were about to get into. You had fantasized it so many times, wondering who it would be. Sometimes wishing it were Tyrone. And while you didn’t think it would be all glitzy like they do in the movies, you did think you’d be married. Or at least in a steady relationship.

As you looked at Tyrone though, you were glad it was with someone you were comfortable with. Someone who took your usual anxiety from 100% to about 65%. 

Tyrone smirked. “If you knew the thoughts I be having about you…you might run out that door,” he said. “I’m trying to do this right.” 

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Don’t treat me like some glass doll,” you said. You titled your head and stared him down. “You forgetting I know all your nasty little secrets?” 

Tyrone chuckled and squeezed your hand. “Shut up. That’s different. I ain’t care about them, but I do care about you. Don’t ever treat this shit as casual,” he said. 

You sucked your teeth. “Not you too. I promise, I’m not going around opening my legs for any man that wants it,” you said. You were about to go on a tirade about how it was your body and your rules. Tyrone shut you up with another kiss, tugging on your bottom lip. 

“The thought of anyone else in between your legs makes me angry,” he whispered against your lips.

“Angry?” 

He nodded and continued to kiss you, sliding his hands up and down your arms. His warm, big hands chased away any lingering chill from outside. He slowly knelt so that he wasn’t bending at an awkward angle. 

His knees sank to the floor and he nestled himself in between your thighs. His hands continued to travel down, squeezing your hips, your outer thighs. Your hands held on to his shoulders, kneading and massaging his back. He moaned into your mouth and a delicious tingle went up your spine. 

“Mhm, so don’t say that shit no more,” he said. 

“You can’t expect…”

His hands crept closer to your pussy and you ended your sentence on a squeak. Heat rose up your neck and cheek. “Relax,” he said. You took a few deep breaths, nodding, but you were as stiff as a board. Tyrone stopped moving his hand and kept it on your thigh.

“You gotta relax. And let me do this for you,” he said. His thumb pressed into your thigh and your body caved in. He somehow zeroed in on a knot and his thumb worked it out. “Oh fuck,” you said. 

“Mhm, you’ll feel better in a minute. But you gotta relax for me,” he said.

Sure, as if you could snap your fingers and relax. Wouldn’t you know it, anxiety was a light switch you could flick on and off at your leisure. Tyrone must’ve seen your thoughts play across your face, because he chuckled. 

“Do you have any fuckin’ idea how sexy you are?” He asked.

“What?” You asked. The question caught you off guard. You knew you were gorgeous, you knew you were working with some thick thighs and a pretty tummy. But sexy? Somehow, you missed the memo about sex appeal. You swore that guys could see “virgin” stamped across your forehead.

“Mhm. Whenever you walk out the house in one of these dresses, I just keep picturing how you look underneath. If that pussy nice and pink and wet.” His voice went deeper, harsher, bringing with it dark, carnal promises.

Your thighs tingled. Your hands shook. You bit your bottom lip to keep from moaning like a ho. Tyrone kissed your jaw, then moved up to your ear. “You nice and wet for me? You want me to play with it right?” He asked.

“Yes, yes, play with it,” you said.

Tyrone moved his hand up. Your thighs were burning hot from where they rested against each other. Tyrone nudged you to open your legs. He hummed while he kissed along your ear. “I wonder if you taste as good you feel.”

You dropped your head against him. “You can’t be saying shit like that,” you said.

“Look at you, with your little potty mouth,” he said.

“Shut up, Tyrone!” 

He only laughed and finally, blessedly, reached your core. He played with the edges of your panties, seeing the way you squirmed and moaned. He slipped his finger past the material and cursed under his breath.

“Damn, all of that for me? How you gon’ run home to Daddy with panties this soaked?” Tyrone asked.

You stuttered out a response. How were you supposed to form a coherent sentence when his fingers were on you? His fingers glided in between your slick folds, pushing past your pussy lips, and tracing the outside of your clit.

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Your mouth dropped in a tiny little ‘o’ and Tyrone’s eyes narrowed as he took in your expression. He kissed you once, too quickly for your taste, and smirked at you.

“You gotta stop being so damn cute,” he said. “Makes me want to do all kinds of nasty shit to you.” 

You moaned, picturing those disgusting things. His thumb rubbed over your clit and you scrunched up your face in pleasure. 

How was it that this felt infinitely different and better than when you did it to yourself? He knew exactly what to do, taking cues from your moans and grunts and pretty gasps. You sent up a prayer, thankful that this was with someone experienced. Then again, God probably wasn’t listening right about now.

Tyrone traced slow circles on your clit. You looked through your lashes at his smug face. He knew he was driving you wild. You hissed and jerked when he got to a particularly sensitive spot. “Shh, shh, breathe,” he said. 

He held your gaze as you took in deep breaths. Your belly flipped and tightened, the beginning stirrings of something naughty making its way to the surface. Your gaze traveled down. Tyrone’s hand was completely under your dress. It was somehow hotter that you couldn’t see what he was doing to you.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” You moaned.

“Mhm, pray to him for mercy. Because you ain’t gettin’ that shit from me,” Tyrone’s raspy voice was like its own arrow of desire. Your thighs shook. Your feet dangled over the side of the bed. Your toes curled. 

“Tyrone, please,” you said. You gripped his shoulders. His smooth brown skin shone with its own light. 

“Let me take these panties off,” Tyrone said.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said. 

Tyrone stopped rubbing your clit. “No,” you growled. What the hell was he doing? You were so close! Your belly still felt tight, overripe like at any moment you would burst. 

Tyrone chuckled and lifted your dress. The fabric drew across your thighs like scorching fire. You hissed. You were on a precipice and any movement would hurt or hinder. You didn’t want to find out which. 

Tyrone pushed your dress up to your hips. Then, he grabbed the top of your panties and moved it down. He held you as you lifted up and slipped them off your ass. He smiled. “Never thought I’d get to see you like this,” he said.  

“I’m glad it’s you,” you said and smiled.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he said. “Remember to breathe for me.”

He kept your gaze as he pushed your legs over his shoulders. He grabbed your hips and pulled you forward until your ass was half hanging off of the bed. You cried out and he kissed your thighs until you calmed down.

Your heart beat in your pussy. The throb throb throb drove you mad. You were needy. You needed something more, anything more. 

Tyrone blew a breath across your wet pussy and you cried out, jerking your hips. Tyrone only locked his arms around you, curling his biceps around your thigh. “Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

Tyrone flattened his tongue and licked you from your pussy to your clit and back down again. A choppy moan left you. Your back bowed off of the bed. Your hands gripped the front of your dress. It wasn’t enough to hold so you moved your hands down to grip the bunched up hem. 

He ran his nose through your folds. He inhaled. “Smell so fuckin’ good, got damn,” he said. “Pretty ass pussy.”

He then drew his tongue in a slow circle around your clit. Locked as you were, he didn’t leave room for movement. You barely wiggled. Squirmed underneath his sinful tongue. With each new circle, he moved in closer. He tongued you closer to your clit and you whined and moaned and cried.

Your belly tightened once more. A cresting inferno built and built, radiating waves of heat throughout your body. 

Somehow, this too was more potent coming from him. Your body jerked out of your control, twitching every which way, as he created magic around your clit. He slurped up your juices. Slurped it loudly and greedily. He tongued it all down, getting his juicy lips wet with your essence.

You spoke in tongues, muttering and chirping. Tyrone’s tongue moved downwards, rimming your entrance and pushing his tongue inside.

“Oh god. Oh fuck. Tyrone, Tyrone,” you moaned. Your hands flexed. You searched for Tyrone’s head, his neat cornrows were going to get messed up tonight. You palmed him anyway, pushing his head into your pussy and started to gyrate on his mouth. 

“Mhm, mhm,” he encouraged. “That’s my good girl.”

You came with a loud yell. You could barely breathe. The sounds and words were dragged out of you. A hidden instinct buried in your DNA to say something, to help ride this awe-inducing wave. A flood of pleasure moved through you. 

Tyrone held you down through it all. His biceps flexed with your movements back and forth. He still ate you out, flicking his tongue around your nub. 

“F-f-f-.” Fuck it, you couldn’t say it. 

You flopped onto the bed, spent. You moaned as you twitched and calmed down. Tyrone leaned up. You looked at him. His face was slick across his jaw. A spit chain drooped. He licked his big lips and moaned.

“Ready for this dick?” He asked.

You sniffled and nodded. “Please. Please, I'm so ready,” said.

“You don't’ need a break?” He asked.

“Hell naw. Please,” you said. 

He nodded and placed a wet kiss on your thigh. He cleaned off his face on his tank top. He stood up. He grabbed your hands and pulled you into a sitting position. You put your chin on his stomach and looked up at him. 

He sighed and rolled his neck. “What I tell you about lookin’ so cute?” He asked. 

“I can’t help being cute,” you said. 

“Lyin’ ass. Yes, you can,” he said.

You sucked your teeth. “How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Ion know. Burp or something,” he said.

You giggled and hugged him around his middle. You grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed. 

“You really have no idea,” he whispered. You grinned. 

He stepped back and pulled off his shorts. His dick bobbed twice, standing at attention. He was definitely thick and long and perfect. Your shyness tried to budge back in. Your heartbeat sped up thinking of that getting inside of you. 

He twisted and leaned over. You admired his body as his muscles bunched. He was solid, stocky. A thick man with amazing thighs and ass. Cool air blew across your pussy and you bit your lip. Fuck. 

He grabbed a condom. Watching him was its own brand of sensual torture. His fingers moved deftly to open the package. He rolled on the condom, pulling the latex over the length of him. He pinched the top. 

He stalked closer, running his eyes over you. “Let me take this dress off,” he said.

You smiled and nodded. He helped you pull it off. Your bra went next. “You’re so damn sexy,” he said. 

He palmed your breasts, rubbing and pushing them together. He leaned down and brought your nipples into his mouth. He moved between your boobs, suckling and placing that warm mouth around the peaks. 

Your legs jerked up. You wrapped them around his waist. His shirt got trapped beneath your legs. He pulled it out and the shirt draped across his chest. His dick brushed against you and you cried out. He was so close to giving you what you needed. Your nails dug into his sides. He ignored you. He played with your nipples until you were a bumbling, squirming mess. 

“T-T-Tyrone,” your teeth chattered.

“Mhm, I know. Ready for me?” He asked.

“Yessss,” you moaned. 

“Sure?” He asked. He rubbed his dick through your arousal. You soaked him instantly. There was so much on you. The cool air hit across it on your skin. You knew exactly how much of a mess you made. It made you hornier. How did you go through life without this? Without this feeling?

Without this obsession running in your veins. This deep-seated need. This lustful shot of adrenaline threatening to burn your skin off. 

Tyrone’s hand wrapped around your hip. His other hand guided his dick towards your entrance. He pushed in and you gasped. He slipped in thanks to how wet you were. But fuck! He filled you completely. 

“Breathe,” he commanded. He stopped and moved his shirt out of the way. “You gotta breathe.”

You nodded. He helped you take deep breaths. “That’s right. Be a good girl for me. Good girls get dick,” he cooed. 

That should piss you off. But you wanted to be a good girl for him. You wanted to listen and get praised some more. 

Your breathing evened out. Tyrone leaned down and kissed you. As he kissed you, he pushed in. Your hand flew to his chest, pushing at him. Fuck. It kind of hurt, but it was a good hurt? You could tolerate him pushing in. You clenched around him and he hissed. 

He sank inch by inch into you. He cursed the whole time. “Fuck, feel too good. Feel too good,” he muttered. “Gripping the shit out of me.”

The praise made you moan and you clenched around him. A drop of his sweat fell onto your chest. Your own sweat slick skin pebbled in the cool air. 

Tyrone moved out and then pushed back in. The slide in would hurt briefly but then morph into pleasure as you felt him move inside of you. He was deep, stretching you out. Molding your pussy to the curve of his dick. 

He began to speed up. He flipped his shirt up and held it in his mouth. He moaned. “Can still smell you,” he said, though his voice was muffled. 

Both hands held onto your waist. He moaned as he sank deeper, you welcoming him better. “You okay?” He asked.

“Yuh,” you nodded. 

“Sure?” 

“Yu-uh,” you moaned. He was doing nothing more vigorous than moving back and forth, but he felt amazing. He filled you up. He hit that deep seat of emptiness inside of you. A place you hadn’t been able to get to on your own.

The feeling brought tears to your eyes. He twisted and brought you down on his dick a little faster. “Ohmygod,” you cried. He reached a spot that made you explode all over him. 

You cursed the heavens, you cursed hell. You cursed the world in between. You felt large. Humongous. You felt like you could grab the world with both hands. Power and pleasure suffused you. You moaned out loud, heedless of anyone who could hear. 

“Oh fuck, so tight,” Tyrone hips jerked. His fingers dug into your hips. The pressure made you moan. He jerked and thrusted one more time, going as far as he was able, and you felt him pulse inside of you.

You imagined him filling you up with his cum. You moaned as the thought made your pussy throb. Tyrone twitched and panted on top of you. He left you slowly, sliding out in a way that wouldn’t hurt you.

You missed him immediately. He wiped his sweat on his shirt and took off the condom. He tied it and threw it in a nearby trashcan. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You flopped onto the bed. Looked up at the popcorn ceiling. Were there words to describe how okay you were? How fantastic you felt? “So good,” you murmured. 

And you did feel really good. You expected to feel shame after having sex. You’d avoided it for so long, you started to feel like a freak for still being a virgin at your big age. But you didn’t. You were mostly sore. You were going to feel this in the morning and right now, you couldn’t care less. 

Tyrone left for a moment and you just focused on your breathing. On trying to recapture that euphoric feeling of that orgasm. Chasing after it like the wayward string of a balloon. 

He returned and placed a warm cloth against your pussy. You hissed at the unexpected sensation. He cooed at you while he cleaned you up. You smiled at him. “You didn’t have to,” you said.

“Yeah, I did. I was raised to clean up after myself,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. He left once more, getting rid of the washcloth. He took off his shirt and hopped into bed with you, pulling you chest to chest. He rubbed your back and looked into your eyes.

“You’re so cute,” he said.

“You are,” you said. You bumped his nose. 

“How you really feelin’?” He asked.

“Honestly? I feel really good. Sore, but tired.” 

“Would you want to do it again?” He asked.

“Hell yes! Are you kidding? There’s so much I want to try,” you said.

Tyrone laughed, shaking his head. He pecked you on the lips. He moaned and then pressed in for longer, licking your bottom lip and rolling it between his teeth. 

“Mm, does that mean I can get back in that pretty pussy?” He asked.

You caressed his cheek. Running your thumb across his supple skin. “That’s exactly what that means.”

&&&

Psst, there's more! The Secret Tyrone Files

[pengweng-quack]

Bloodbound

Carlisle Cullen x Human!OC

Summary: Place Carlisle in the Edward situation of falling in love with a human, and see what happens

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Notes:

The only thing that took so long about this is the title because fuck titles (genuinely)

This is on Ao3 under the same title and username if you'd like to read it there (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54527830)

Probably would be my last (long) twilight post in a while since I've lost interest in the series for a while (give it like 3 weeks before I regain it lmao)

Posting (just like before) is random lol, hope you guys enjoy this story

Much much longer than Being a Witch with Vampires by the way, so we're in a long ride (or you are, because I already know the story)

Word Count: 2294 words

General warning: I used some religious references in this story so read with caution if you're not so keen into reading that

TW for this chapter: None

PM or Comment to be added on the taglist for this one!

Masterlist

A full year had passed since the Cullens returned to Forks, now acting as grownups instead of some teenager studying in Forks high school, minus Renesmee, to her dismay. Carlisle received a warm welcome back to the hospital, where he encountered new faces introduced to him since his departure.

“Good morning Doctor Cullen.” A nurse with red hair greeted politely to him, he was around his height and had brown eyes, a face that he doesn’t remember during his time there

“I’m nurse Sean, not the chief nurse but I think Eunice is getting her out now.” Sean informed him “You’ll like her I think, she’s professional as fuck.”

A girl with her chestnut hair tied up in a bun walked out of a room. At that moment, all Carlisle could think about was how captivating the woman was, everything about her screamed authority, he knew then and there that she was the chief nurse.

Time felt like it slowed down when they locked eyes, this woman has plagued over his mind. Carlisle subtly admired her face, she had eyes that matched the shade of her hair and pale pink lips that complimented her fair complexions.

“Celine Wright, chief nurse here.” Celine introduced herself with a prim and proper tone. She offered her hand in a handshake and Carlisle accepted it, feeling the warmth of her hand against the coldness of his

“Carlisle Cullen, former chief doctor here.” Carlisle introduced back, pulling his hand away from the handshake “Pleasure to meet you.”

From the stories that Carlisle has heard, Celine was 25 years old when she assumed the position and has demonstrated remarkable competence, excelling in her role for a year prior his return with unparalleled precision and skill.

But it was distracting him, she was distracting him. Despite her undeniable competence, it was her blood that proved to be the real challenge for Carlisle. The tantalizing scent of it often left Carlisle struggling to focus, forcing him to endure long stretches without breathing just to filter out the temptation.

But even after leaving work, her scent lingered in his mind, infiltrating every aspect of his life. Something as harmless as a report file with a hint of her scent could drive him to the brink of madness.

It’s been a year since Carlisle has been working with Celine, a year of extreme caution over his thirst. He was always making sure that he was fed before going to the hospital, making sure that there was always some distance between them. However, as the chief nurse, their interactions were inevitable, presenting a constant challenge to Carlisle's restraint.

It also didn’t help that Celine’s kind and caring nature was growing on him in ways that he didn’t expect that it’ll do so. Her smile became a source of motivation for him, brightening his day with a single glance. He found himself instinctively seeking her out upon arriving at work, drawn to her presence like a magnet.

Celine was growing on him, as a person, as a friend, as someone that he wishes he could pursue openly.

“She’s your blood singer and mate.” Edward concluded, having experienced a similar scenario before “You’re dealing with what I’ve dealt with when Bella was still human.”

“Great,” Rosalie scoffed, crossing her arm “Another human.”

“Carlisle won’t pressure her into something that she doesn’t want to partake herself in.” Esme assured everyone

“We would never know if he doesn’t pursue her.” Alice said, holding on from having another vision whether Celine Wright was in their future or not

“Would we rob Carlisle a chance to finally be with his mate?” Edward argued to Rosalie

“Would you rob another girl’s humanity for an uncertainty?” Rosalie asked him back; the tension was growing between the two

“Enough with the arguing.” Carlisle said, a decision set in his head

“I’ve figured out that she’s my mate. But I will not pressure her into anything.” He stated at once to everyone that was listening to him “Nor will I pursue her whatsoever. Let the future play how it has planned to be. Alice, Edward, no attempting to manipulate it to one of your visions.”

Just in time, his alarm has rung, notifying him that he has a shift to get ready for. He bids his goodbye, going to his office to get ready.

He was painfully slow, questioning whether his choice was the right one, plagued by uncertainty and the fear of denying himself a chance at happiness.

But underneath his own desires was the concern for Celine's well-being. He couldn't bear the thought of forcing her into a life she didn't want, no matter how difficult it was for him to accept the possibility of letting her go.

“Are you sure of your decision?” Esme asked him, walking into his office “Do you really want to just give up like that already?”

“She deserves a long, happy life.” Carlisle spoke softly, grabbing his briefcase with all the reports that he’s brought home “Not be damned for eternity.”

“And if she asks for a long, happy life with you, then what?” Esme asked him, making Carlisle ponder at her question. She was right, what certainty did he have that Celine wouldn’t welcome this life?

‘The risk is too high.’ He thought to himself

He left without answering her question.

It was another late-night shift that Celine accepted. Having heard another alibi from one of her co-nurses. Lying and saying that “they have some important matters to deal with,” only to see them by the bar as she drives by, drunk beyond their capabilities.

‘I have nothing to do anyways, so why not just earn more so I could leave this shitty town.’ She always used that to convince herself

In all honesty, Celine's financial status was not a factor in her decision. She had inherited a comfortable sum from when her parents died, ensuring that she was shielded from any financial struggles. But she’s heard that Doctor Cullen always took a night shift, working perfectly for their family’s set up of needing someone to be at home at all times.

What’s wrong if she was to indulge herself and the tiny crush that she had for him? After all, he wasn't married, a fact his hand had subtly conveyed to her.

“Nurse Celine, good to see you…again.” Carlisle greeted, walking in her office (which technically, is his office too) with a disposable cup of coffee “I thought your shift was over?”

“Yeah, Nurse Alex had to bail, said something along the lines of dealing with some personal stuff.” Celine answered “Made sure to give him the morning shift though, just as some sort of revenge.”

“I do not condone that behavior, but frankly, I would say that you deserve the rest.” Carlisle said, sitting next to her. It was dangerous, he knew. But he didn’t want to leave her alone.

“It’s a slow night.” Celine reported “Just one rush to the E.R. thinking that they were dying because of some spots they saw on their face. After doing some checking on it, it was just some questionably large pimples. Scary? Yes. But not fatal.”

“At least it has been slow so you won’t tire yourself too much.” Carlisle said, pushing the coffee near her

“Why don’t you just say to your sister that you don’t actually enjoy the coffee she makes? It just feels like a waste, giving away your coffee every time.” Celine asked, accepting the cup and drinking it

Carlisle was asked by Celine one time why he wasn’t drinking the coffee that he had, noticing that the cup was left untouched until he throws it away just after his shift. In panic, he fabricated a story, claiming that his sister Esme, who worked night shifts at her own job, often made coffee for herself and would give the extras to him.

He had offered it to her then, hoping that the coffee Esme made because she has missed the aroma of coffee was in Celine’s taste. Celine didn’t answer that time if she had enjoyed the coffee or not, but every time he would offer her the coffee, she would accept it.

This silent acceptance fueled Carlisle's hope that perhaps, in some small way, they were connecting through these shared moments over coffee.

From then, he asked Esme about the recipe and continued to make it from the comfort of his car before he walked in the hospital, using the coffee as a conversation starter, a way to engage with her, hoping to deepen their connection through these small interactions.

“You enjoy it.” Carlisle answered almost immediately. Celine looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion

“I mean, she always makes it at night for her work. Offers some to me, even though I don’t drink coffee, I’m just too shy to not accept it. And besides, you deserve some coffee yourself too.” Carlisle explained further, giving Celine the satisfaction of getting an answer

“Thanks. I owe you one.” Celine said, lifting the coffee and drinking some more of it “How do you even get the energy to do night shifts? Ever since you got here, you’ve like made it your thing to be the one for night shifts.”

“I sleep in the morning.” Carlisle answered, having prepared an alibi for when that question inevitably gets asked to him “Did kind of take a toll on my social life though, I’ll tell you. But I have accepted this way when I decided to step into the field of medicine.”

“Really?” Celine asked, piqued with how he was opening up “Why prefer night shift then? You could easily be transferred to morning shift if you’d just ask.”

“I prefer it this way.” Carlisle answered, Celine pondered if someone has asked him this question before “Besides, who will give you your daily coffee if I don’t join you with the night shifts?”

“I can get myself coffee, thank you very much.” Celine answered, fake insult in her tone and playfully rolling her eyes at him

“I know you can, I do enjoy it just as much to be the one to give you your coffees.” Carlisle said, a smile on his face

‘He looked like a Ken doll.’ She thought, looking at Carlisle and admiring his seemingly perfect features. His eyes was shining golden, a shade she never thought was possible for a human to have. The pale pink tint of his lips stirred a fleeting curiosity about their softness, though she quickly brushed aside any thoughts of how they might feel against her own.

“Some of the nurses are getting jealous, you should give them coffee sometimes.” Celine teased him. Carlisle looked at her, his eyebrows raised at her teasing. He did not want to give anyone else some sort of affection.

His undead heart was with hers before she even knew it.

“That’s if they’ll like 5 teaspoons of sugar and 3 teaspoons of creamer in their coffee.” Carlisle teased her back, watching as she finishes the coffee that he has prepared

“Well, anything that you would give to them, they’ll accept really.” She answered, before going back to reading some reports that the morning shift nurses has prepared for them

The night was long, the comforting silence joining them as they read through. Fortunately, there were no urgent emergencies demanding their attention. It wasn’t until Carlisle heard Celine stifle a yawn that made him check his watch, the small screen showing 8:17 AM.

“Shift over.” Carlisle announced, standing up and faking a stretch

He could have stayed there forever had she been able to do the same.

“Finally.” Celine mumbled, the aftermath of the coffee finally taking a toll on her as she slumps herself on the seat that she’s been on for the past 12 hours “So tired.”

“Need a ride home?” Carlisle asked, seeing that she wasn’t awake enough to go home on her own

Despite his declaration not to pursue Celine, Carlisle found himself engaging in behaviors that seemed to contradict his words. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was unintentionally leading her on, even though she hadn't explicitly expressed interest in him, neither through her words nor her body language.

“I’m fine, brought my car with me.” Celine murmured; her eyes closed as she rests her head on the chair “Just need a few minutes to close my eyes.”

“Okay then.” Carlisle answered, sitting down on the chair where he was sitting earlier, grabbing a bit more reports to read as he accompanies her

The few minutes became an hour. Then the hour became two hours. Carlisle then slowly realized that Celine was beginning to doze off in the chair she was sitting in. He looked at her with a small smile on his face.

He didn’t need to be a vampire or a doctor to know that she was in an uncomfortable position. Her whole torso was slouched down and her head was down, giving the look that she was uncomfortably bowing.

Carlisle moved his seat closer to hers, feeling the warmth of her arm against the coldness of his. With tender care, he lifted her head, cradling it on his shoulder. Though not as plush as a pillow, he knew it would be far more comfortable than where her head had previously rested.

As he sat there, Carlisle gazed at Celine, closing his eyes and synchronizing his faux breathing with hers, attuned to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Carlisle knew that it was temptation, being this close to her. And a sin to indulge himself in such temptation. But if he was to be damned today, he would be happy to have indulged himself with the existence of Celine.