#but besides that the song fits their dynamic in my head

[afalconfromalcyoneus]

"sei que vou perder um grande amor e um bom amigo." — eu sem você by lilian

"I know I'll lose a great brother and a good friend"

***note: "grande amor" in the og lyrics means "great love", but I changed it to fit better w/ Ashfur and Ferncloud <3

Extra below to hear my yapping ↓

OK. I've been seeing this trend recently using this song (Em Sem Você). It's a Portuguese song that I'm like 99% sure has to do with a break up and how you handle that & not knowing how you'll act/be like when you're out of the relationship. HOWEVER. I also saw this song used with Squrrielflight & Leafpool, so I was like "oh my God this song is Ivypool & Dovewing" but then, a greater idea floated in my head...."This is Ashfur and Ferncloud." They're my favorite characters OKAY leave me alone 😭.

Anyway. I think some of the lyrics represent them pretty well. Mostly with my own versions of them bc, as usual, my imagination is bigger than what the actual series gives us.

I'm just giving the English translations here bc that's easier:

"You're going away with my dreams

You'll forget me, you'll forget me

I know I'll lose a true love and a good friend

I'm wondering what I'll become

Without you, without you"

Under my interpretation of course. This is about how, after Ashfur died (aka was murdered by Hollyleaf) a part of Ferncloud died. Even after she learned about how much of a GIANT incel he was, she feels deeply upset by his lose. She wonders how she'll live without her twin brother (that's also a thing I hc btw,,) or who she'll become. Will she be different? It feels like a hole is missing from her soul.

She's afraid that up in Starclan, Ashfur will forget her. Maybe she even suspects she wasn't that important to Ashfur at all, due to his actions he committed in life that she learned about.

"Will he forget I ever existed? Will my face in his mind disappear into the winds of Starclan? Because was I really that important to him?"

(skipping a few lyrics)

"This night, I've barely slept thinking about

How happy we were and what I'll become

Without you"

Ferncloud can't sleep days, week, months after Ashfur was murdered. Although she's a Perma Queen, Ashfur would sleep next to her still (mostly so he could get away from Squrrielflight in the Warriors den, this is also headcanon btw this didn't happen canonically). Ferncloud didn't fully see how unhappy Ashfur was in life, she was happy but he wasn't. She's become so depressed and lonely, even if she has friends, without her twin.

"I know there's no point in even thinking about what happened

It's not going to be easy because I know I'll suffer

Without you"

Everyone knows Ashfur got murdered at this point, especially they know it was Hollyleaf because she spilled it out during a Gathering (I'm pretty sure?). Ferncloud doesn't want to think about "what happened" (Ashfur's murder, plus Hollyleaf's outburst and death as well as confessing to murdering Ashfur). She's angry at Hollyleaf, but since Hollyleaf is (presumably) dead she has nobody but herself to direct that anger towards. At the same time she thinks about the cats he hurt, Squrrielflight, Lionblaze, Jayfeather, Hollyleaf, maybe even other cats...she cannot stay truly mad at Hollyleaf. But she can stay mad at herself.

There's no point in thinking about what happened because she doesn't even want to think about it. She's suffering without Ashfur next to her...but he hurt so many cats and she feels that guilt of wishing he was still alive.

Ok bye.

[chlorinecake]

A SUCKER FOR THE TASTE ✦— 𝐋.𝐇𝐒

▹ PAIRING — experienced husband heeseung x virgin f. reader

▹ GENRE — smut, fluff, newlyweds au

▹ SYNOPSIS — As teens, you were the uncanny duo that fell in love at first sight. Some odd years later, and you’re now a newlywed couple, spending your first night together in a fit of nerves as you navigate sex and other new feelings…

▹ WARNINGS — KINKTOBER SPECIAL, basically just pussy drunk!husband!heeseung making you squirt for hours on the night of your honeymoon, marriage themes (duh), mentions of food, dom and sub dynamics, kissing with tongue, overstimulation kink (reader cums multiple times), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, petnames (baby, angel, pretty, sweetie), that’s all

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.3k — DAY 1

YOU AND HEESEUNG were like Romeo and Juliet; two people from totally different walks of life, and honestly, no one ever would’ve guessed you two’d end up falling for each other.

Sometimes, it’s hard to tell any time had passed between the first moment you met Heeseung with a hickey on his neck in the lunch hall to now as you sit before him on a king sized bed, ring fingers clad with beautiful bands to match as you stared into each others eyes, speaking a love song of unspoken words.

“You’re fine with waiting til marriage?” You remember asking him a few weeks after you first started dating as teens, “you won’t think I’m a prude for wanting to keep things traditional?…”

“Of course not, sweetie,” you remember him answering while cupping your face in his hands, “a girl like you is worth the wait—” He whispered in between kissing your lips, “��and so much more…”

Since that moment, you and Heeseung have stuck to your guns, not even so much as showering together to keep your purity intact until the right moment…

… That fateful day when you’d say “I do” and he the same, right before venturing off into the sunset on angel’s wings to explore another country together.

Another life, might I add, as a married couple on your extravagant honeymoon…

Everything was so magical in your head, too… but regardless of that, Heeseung was too big of a fucking dork to let himself be romantic for once.

Just an hour ago, he had told the hotel receptionist “you too” after she congratulated you both on getting married—

“Grrrrrrrrr,” he pouted, scrunching his nose at you.

“Did you just… growl at me!?”

“Yes, and I’ll do it again if you keep resisting,” Heeseung threatened playfully, pointing an accusing finger at your frame now.

Sighing, you raised your hands beside your head as a sign of compliance, parting your lips slightly as you held your head back for him.

“Alright, don't move this time, alright? We can do this!” He ordered more passionately this time, cradling a single grape between his fingers before angling his wrist backwards and launching it towards your mouth.

“Oh my gosh, I finally caught it!” You shouted with excitement, words coming out a bit slurred as you bit down into the sweet fruit, “Tastes like victory,” you continued, making Heeseung grace you with his thundering ovation.

“Brava!” He began to cheer, but the rest of his sentence was interrupted by his own burp, which only elicited a fit of embarrassed giggles from the both of you…

Two empty glasses of wine sat on the hotel nightstand beside the bed you were currently sat on, and if it wasn't obvious enough, y'all were already starting to experience the giddy effects of the alcohol dancing in your systems.

“So,” you smiled, a laugh still present in your throat as you fed him a white grape from the bowl between you two, “we're the couple that eats pie in place of dinner now?”

“Sure... but not just any pie,” Heeseung corrected, leaning closer to your ear as he whispered, “blueeeberry pieeee.”

You're not sure if it was the wine or the honeymoon high, but you can't help yourself from laughing out loud at Heeseung's behavior in this moment—

“You’re a legend for always vibing with my horrible sense of humor, y’know that?” Your husband remarked while tilting his head at you endearingly.

“Your humor is definitely one-of-a-kind, but I wouldn't want you to change a thing about it,” you returned tenderly, right before feeding him a fork-full of blueberry pie from the dish between you two, feeling your heart swell as he smiled into the bite.

The kind of smile you’d have a hard time getting out of your mind later—

“Thanks, babe,” he said, a bit of dark blue jam resting in the corner of his mouth now as his eyes sparkled with what you could bet was pure flattery.

You always liked it whenever you managed to get Heeseung all flustered before you, considering how he was usually the one to make you a blushing mess with only his words.

“You've uh...” you stammer slightly, “you've got a little something on your lip there...”

“Really?”

“Yea, just... let me get it for you real quick,” you continue, licking the pad of your thumb before leaning forward to dab at the jam on his mouth.

That's when you noticed his lips curving into a subtle smirk as he whispered in a low voice, “You got it, baby?”

“Y-yea,” you stuttered again, feeling your face heat up at his words, and if you didn't look so hot to him right now, he would've pinched your cheeks—

“Whoops,” Heeseung gasped facetiously, pouting at the streak of blueberry jam he very intentionally just smeared on your lower lip, “must be the wine making me so clumsy today...”

Your eye almost twitched at the sight of him licking his finger clean, a rush of nerves swarming in your stomach now

“I-it's okay, Heeseung,” you said while lifting your thumb to your mouth, “I've got it...”

“No you don't,” he chuckled at your shy demeanor, right before closing the space between you two, taking your face in his hand and kissing you.

And yes, you saw this coming, but it took you a few seconds to fully close your eyes, letting them flutter shut as you both sighed at the taste of each other, almost as if the contact relaxed you…

The kiss was slow at first, with you and him simply breathing against each other’s mouths as his velvety lips moved against yours.

But that pace didn't last long once Heeseung broke from the kiss to move the bowl of grapes and pie out of the way, a few of the glossy green ovals hitting the ground with light thuds as his right hand found the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him.

The kiss grew more intense from there as both your heads were tilting into each other, wet smacks filling the room now as his tongue prodded against yours with every passing second.

“God, you taste so sweet,” Heeseung groaned, desperately clinging to your waist which only made you moan in response.

You and Heeseung had made out countless times in the past, but you could tell something was different this time... you never felt this worked up with him before, and you knew it wasn’t just gonna end with a kiss—

“Can’t wait to taste other parts of you, too, baby…” he hummed, kissing along your neck while pinning your delicate wrists above your head.

And that’s when you felt it…

The twitch between your legs and the heat rushing throughout your entire body…

You were wearing a plaid pajama skirt and white top that matched Heeseung’s plaid sweatpants and long sleeved shirt, as you simply expected to only eat some dessert, discuss the rest of your honeymoon plans, and head straight to sleep right after.

Now though, you knew you wouldn't be able to get much rest with your emotions like this… at least not comfortably, that is…

You’re between his lap at first until he guides you onto your back, kissing down your neck, between your breasts, and down your stomach as he lifts your top, stopping at the waist band of your skirt given the way your body tensed up suddenly.

“Is everything alright?” He asked softly, glancing back up at you with a swollen look to his pouty lips, given all the kissing they had just done.

You knew what was happening right now..

Heeseung was doing exactly what you had asked him to do, and as much as your body craved it, your mind kept fighting it for some reason…

FLASHBACK —

“Just… don’t make it too… formal, okay?”

“Formal?” Heeseung repeated with a slight chuckle as you sat beside each other on the plane that morning.

“Well, yea… I just don’t want to make a big deal out of it—”

“But it is a big deal, baby,” he cut you off by placing his hand over yours. “We’ve been waiting a long time for this, y’know?… Not just to have sex but—” he leaned closer to you as he whispered this in your ear, “—to make each other feel good… in all kinds of ways…”

His breath tickled your ear in that moment… similarly to how his lips were tickling you now as you laid before him on the mattress, his head hovering over the space between your thighs.

“We don’t have to go any further until you’re ready, love—”

“I’m ready, Heeseung,” you said while nodding, but he waited to continue, knowing in his heart that there was still something you needed to get off your chest.

He backed away, pulling your shirt back over your stomach and sitting on the bed normally now.

“Heeseung,” you said again, drawing his sparkly doe eyes back to you.

“I’m listening, love,” is all he replied with, offering you a warm smile, “what’s on your mind?”

What’s in the way? You internally asked yourself right after, knowing deep down that you had no reason to feel so nervous with him right now…

Heeseung had never alienated you because of your inexperience with sex before, and was always very understanding of your moral and sexual boundaries.

But now, things were different; you were a married couple, and one of the many perks of that was being able to explore each others body in a comfortable way…

Turns out though, it was all just your own insecurities clouding your judgment, and you hated that you couldn’t shake the nerves bubbling in your stomach…

“It’s just that,” you started nervously, fidgeting with your manicured nails, “I… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Yeah, I know,” your husband nodded sarcastically, trying his best to resist the urge to kiss you again—

“And…well, you have a lot more experience than me with this kind of thing,” you continued, lowering your head.

“So what?”

“What if I don’t meet your expectations?…”

“Expectations? What do you mean, ____?”

“Well, you’ve been with a lot of other girls and what if I’m not as good as them? What if you don’t like sex with me?…”

Heeseung’s heart would’ve otherwise dropped at your words, but instead, he smiled softly, taking your chin in his hand and lifting your head towards him. “You’re nothing like those girls I was with in the past, ____, and that’s my favorite part about you,”

You looked into his eyes as he continued, “I’ll be happy with whatever happens tonight. You wanna know why? Because I did it with you, and I love you with my everything, princess…”

“I love you too, Heeseung,” you replied meekly, flashing him a soft smile as he kissed your cheek.

“No expectations tonight, then… okay, baby? I just wanna please you,” he whispered, slowly guiding your body back down against the mattress with a secure hand. “I wanna make you feel so good,” he continued, placing another kiss to the center of your lips. 

Heeseung started by letting his plush lips wander all over your body again, lifting your shirt up once more to leave open-mouthed kisses all over your stomach.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured with warm breath against your skin, caressing your inner thighs with his hands until you naturally craned them open, inviting him to your pulsing core.

Your breath hitched once you felt his nose burry between your clothed folds, but your little sounds only excited him even further, and he wasted no time in removing your panties completely now.

“Heeseung,” you whined, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he spat on your cunt, toying with the moisture there using his middle and index finger.

“Just relax for me, angel,” your husband cooed with a soothing tone, and you're not sure if it was the alcohol or the petname he just called you in his bedroom voice, but your head was starting to feel very dizzy.

And if you weren't so horny, you would've felt bashful in front of him like this... half-naked, and trembling when he's hardly even touched you yet.

The coldness of his wedding band against the warm flesh of your thigh sent shivers down your spine, and he wasted no time in inviting his fingers into your sopping hole, one at a time until your walls practically sucked him in.

He then started to leave kitten licks against your sensitive bud, complimenting the pace by pumping his wrist towards your pelvis with his digits still exploring the gummy walls of your cunt.

Admittedly, you had tried fingering yourself in the past, but it never felt as good as the way Heeseung worked wonders inside you right now, but you still needed something...

Something to hold onto… something to grab, and Heeseung could immediately tell once your nails started weakly nipping at the bed sheets, your pussy throbbing more and more—

“Hee,” you moaned, feeling his fingers curl deeper and deeper inside your tight cunt, “need to touch you so bad...”

“Yea? Wanna hold my hand, pretty?”

All you can manage to do is nod desperately, making him chuckle slightly at your neediness.

“If you hold my hands, I need you to promise to keep your legs open for me on your own... can you do that for me, love?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, and with that, Heeseung got to work on licking your slick from his fingers before finding your hands in his.

But your core was already missing the stimulation, making your hips rise up and down as if thin air would provide enough friction to ease your craving.

And that's when he licked his first stripe up the center of your pussy, and you're sure your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the sensation.

It didn't take long for the pleasure to escalate from there, either.

His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked you in like a starved out man. His tongue was applying pressure in all the best ways before sinking into your hole, filling you up just enough to have you arching your back on the bed.

You felt your first orgasm wash over you, but you knew your husband had no intention of stopping so soon.

You were mewling beneath him at the overstimulation, thankful that he at least slowed down the pace of his tongue, even though he was still very earnestly slurping at your juices…

“Could eat this pussy for hours, princess… you’re just too delicious…” he groaned, and you felt the bed shaking from the way he was rutting his crotch against the mattress, furrowing his eyebrows as his kept eating you out.

“Come on baby, let me hear you,” Heeseung practically begged, his tone sounding so hoarse, so drunk as the vibrations from his voice only tantalized you even further, “tell me how good it feels...”

“F-feels s-so fucking good, baby,” you moaned, words coming out in fragments given how cloudy your brain was becoming, and you're pretty sure you had your second or third orgasm shortly after as your hands squeezed his, so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

His tongue was licking between your folds so well, the textured muscle making your skin tingle all over but in the best way imaginable.

Heeseung didn't plan on any of this to happening, which is why it felt so good in the first place. It was natural, raw, and so so messy…

Your own cum was dripping all over his chin and lips, and he was loving every single second of it.

He was obsessed with it. The way your clit throbbed against his lips, the way you squirted your juices all over his face, the way your thighs squirmed while struggling to stay open, and your angelically desperate cries of pleasure as he drew out orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

He wished he could watch your face contort with need as he fucked you with his face and tongue, but he couldn't look back up at you no matter how hard he tried… He had to keep his face buried between you…

Your strength eventually gave out and your grip released his hands that soon found one of your tits, gripping the mound of flesh in a way that only drew you even further over the edge.

Your hips had even developed a mind of their own, humping against his face like a bunny in heat as he whispered filthy nothings against your cunt, as well as sweet somethings that you'd hear for the next hour or two that Heesueng spent with his pointy nose brushing against your clit.

“You're so fucking wet for me, angel...”

“Love it when you come all over my face.”

“Pull my hair, baby... harder than that...”

“So so beautiful, and just for me.”

“Keep those pretty thighs open just like that, baby…”

“You taste so fucking divine...”

“Please don't tell me to stop... just one more, baby... I know you've got it in you...”

He found just as much enjoyment being between your thighs as you did in having him there, making you cream on his tongue again and again until you finally hiccuped the words, “N-no more, Hee... p-please, I can't t-take anymore...”

But your begging only made Heeseung even greedier, letting his fingers find your clit where he applied enough pressure and stimulation to break that last orgasm out of you, leaving you a shaking mess as he kissed you down, harder than a bullet in his own pants from getting to see you like this so many times and for so long in just one evening.

A series of shaky whimpers filled the room now as your husband crawled back over you, kissing you with his swollen lips while caressing the side of your fucked-out face. “You did so good for me, baby... especially on your first night...”

“Th-thank you,” you said with a weak chuckle, still feeling your orgasms fresh in your hips and thighs as he kept soothing you with his touch, your breath shaky in your chest after hours of coming undone with him…

That's when he moved over to lay beside you, and your eyes almost immediately caught sight of the thick bulge resting behind his pants, and you couldn't help but feel a little bad now given how he didn’t get much action the whole time.

“Do you want me to...” you started timidly, moving your hand to touch him up til he stopped you.

“Not tonight... we can have fun with that tomorrow,” Heeseung smiled, making you giggle again as he changed his position to make the bulge less noticeable, “for now though, let's focus on getting you cleaned up... sound good?”

“Better than good,” you replied tenderly, kissing him on the cheek before he got up from the bed and headed toward the hotel bathroom where he planned to run you a nice warm bath.

“Wait!” Your husband called out suddenly, just as he caught you trying to get out of the bed on your own.

Running over, a confused look remained on your face as he picked you up from the mattress bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom.

“I didn't forget how to walk, Heeseung,” you giggled, keeping your hands secure at his shoulder as he cradled you into the tub.

“I know,” he laughed, helping you get your top off and over your head as the water ran in the background, “I just didn't want my precious wife accidentally stepping on any of those grapes I dropped earlier...”

It went without saying that Heeseung had always been a loser, but he was your loser, and that fact alone was the bandaid that covered up every preconceived notion of him you ever created in the back of your mind…

You didn’t see him the way other people saw him… as the former man whore, troublemaker, or hopeless goof from high school, ‘destined’ to never change…

You saw him as the adorable nerd who accepted you for the things you saw as flaws… as the guy who still wore character themed PJ’s every once in a while that you now get to call “Hubby,” “lovey,” and “mine…”

⋆♱✮ Huge thanks to everyone who read this little fic of mine, which actually concludes DAY 1 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings

[bubblesgarden]

always you — john b x reader

｡˚○ navigation

summary: you and john b have been friends for years, but when kiara carrera comes along, things become different.

author's note: hi guys ! this is my very first piece of work i've posted here and i really hope you enjoy it ♡ if you did, please consider giving this a like, reblog, or comment ! feel free to give me a follow if you'd like to see more ♡

you were just eight years old when you first met john b. he had scraped knees and an untamed mop of hair, but his smile was infectious— like how the sun shone through your curtains on a summer morning, or when you listened to a song for the first time and would have it on repeat constantly. and before you knew it, you were spending every single day together. the two of you inseparable, running wild, dreaming up adventures, and sharing secrets that you swore would never leave the walls of the chateau.

for years, it was you and him— two kids hand in hand, against the world. at least, it felt that way.

but then kiara carrera came along. she was cool, easy going, and fit into the group so effortlessly that you couldn’t really blame john b for wanting to hang out with her. at first, it didn’t bother you— after all, kie was great. but slowly, you noticed the dynamic start to shift.

the days where it was just you and john b became fewer and farther between. instead of running off to hide up in the treehouse in your backyard for hours, or lay smushed up together on the hammock at the chateau while you stared at the stars to talk about everything and nothing, he was suddenly too busy. too preoccupied. with kiara. 

at first, you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. john b was allowed to have other friends. but as days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, the sting of being phased out by your best friend since childhood was too much to ignore.

one night, after another gathering around a fire where you felt like a shadow in your own group; constantly being talked over or ignored completely, you decided you’d had enough.

you didn’t exactly know what you were going to say— there were too many things running through your mind that you were positive it was all going to turn into a bunch of word vomit when you’d eventually face him. or you’d end up freezing. there was no in between unfortunately. 

so when you finally approached the chateau, you found john b sitting on the porch, sipping on a beer as he gazed out at the stars. the glow of the moonlight highlighted the familiar curve of his jaw, and those messy curls you had ruffled a thousand times before.

“can we talk?” you ask, skipping the introductions and small talk. that would just make this worse, you thought. you stepped up onto the creaky wood, arms crossed over your chest, almost in a way to hold yourself together. 

he turned to you, surprised. almost like he had forgotten you existed— surprised to see you here, where you had been day after day, and night after night, during your years of being friends. it wasn’t unusual at all for you to show up unannounced, but right now, with that look on his face, apparently it was unusual. 

“yeah, of course,” he nodded, motioning for you to sit down on the tattered, old couch on the porch. sitting down beside him, you folded your arms around your knees. for a moment, the silence stretched between you, awkwardness and the sound of cicadas filling the void.

“what happened to us?” you broke the silence, voice barely above a whisper but still steady as you turn your head to look at him. he hadn’t changed much all these years— still had that stupid boyish charm that seemed to get him out of trouble, and those same, soft eyes. 

you felt him stiffen besides you, and you almost scoffed. “what do you mean?” he asks, his tone matching yours.

“you know what i mean,” you sigh, the hurt you’d been bottling up spilling into your words. “it used to be you and me. we spent every day together. and then all of a sudden kie came along, and it’s like… i don’t exist anymore.”

his brows furrowed, and you saw the guilt flash across his face. “that’s not true.” you could pinpoint his defensive tone from a mile away— the same tone he would use when he got in trouble for something he did do, but always tried to claim he didn’t. 

“isn’t it?” you laugh bitterly, shaking your head a little. “come on, john b. you barely talk to me anymore. if i didn’t come looking for you, i don’t even think you would have noticed i wasn’t around.”

“that’s not fair.”

“neither is feeling like i lost my best friend.”

the crack in your voice must’ve struck something inside him because you watched as his defences crumbled. he set his beer down, running a hand through his already messy curls as he sighed deeply.

“it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he spoke, his voice quiet.

“then why was it?” you pressed, eyes still trained on him.

he hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting away before they finally met yours again. “because i screwed up.”

your brows furrowed, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he said quietly.

john b exhaled shakily. “i started… feeling things i wasn’t supposed to feel. about you. and i thought if i got closer to kie, it would— i don’t know, distract me or something. make it go away.” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “but it didn’t. it just made everything worse because i couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, the weight of his confession settling over you like a blanket. “so, what? you just pushed me away instead of telling me the truth?”

“i didn’t want to ruin what we had.” his voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw the fear in his eyes. “you’re my best friend, and if you didn’t feel the same way— i can’t lose you, (y/n). i thought maybe if i kept my distance, it would hurt less.” 

you swallowed the lump in your throat, emotions churning in your stomach. anger, hurt, but underneath it all, a flicker of something you had buried a long time ago. 

“john b—”

“i’m sorry,” he cut you off, voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just— i didn’t know what else to do.”

you searched his face, the boy you’d known for many years looking at you like he was afraid you might disappear. that you might run away and never speak to him again. 

“you’re an idiot,” you laughed softly, shaking your head. 

he looked startled, blinking in confusion. “what?”

“all this time, you were scared of ruining our friendship, and you didn’t even think to ask how i felt.”

“how you felt?” he repeated, brow furrowing. the pure confusion over his features made you want to laugh, but instead you just rolled your eyes. 

“i liked you too, john b. i still do.”

his eyes widened slightly, hope flickering in them like the fireflies dancing in the yard. “you do?”

“yeah,” you admitted, your voice softening. “but you’re going to have to make up for being a complete idiot about it.”

a slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face. “i think i can manage that.” 

before you could get another word out, he leaned in, hand brushing against yours as he closed the distance. the kiss was tentative at first, a question in the way his lips moved against yours. but when you didn’t pull away, you felt as he deepened the kiss, like he was trying to make up for all that time he’d wasted worrying. 

when you finally broke apart, he let out a breathless chuckle, resting his forehead against yours. 

“i’m never phasing you out again,” he promised.

“oh so you were phasing me out?” you tease, resulting in several pokes to your side by the curly haired male in protest.

“okay— okay! but seriously. you better not,” you said, a small smile pulling at your lips.

and just like that, it was you and john b again. always had been. always would be.

[marvelousels]

HOOKED ON YOU.

authors note — once again was listening to doja cat but this time the song was tia tamera YESSIRR sorry but that song is so iconic and gives this confident feeling to listeners. so here we are, it may not fit exactly but meh! i might write with this song except its jinx this time? omd jinx is so this song core OKAY NOW I'LL STOP YAPPING.

pairings: vi x fem!reader 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

Tia Tamera — doja cat playing!

The club was alive with the electric pulse of music, the bass vibrating through your chest as you leaned against the bar. Lights flashed in rhythmic bursts, painting the crowd in neon colors. Your drink sat untouched beside you, condensation pooling around the base of the glass. You weren’t here for the drinks or the music, though—you were here for her.

Vi was in her element, moving through the crowd with a natural charisma that left heads turning in her wake. Her cropped pink hair caught the strobe lights, and the signature cocky smirk tugged at her lips as she danced. She was magnetic, a force of nature, and watching her felt like being caught in a storm you didn’t want to escape.

You didn’t even realize you were staring until her eyes locked onto yours across the room. A playful challenge sparked in her gaze, and before you could look away, she was weaving through the bodies, heading straight for you.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, her voice just loud enough to cut through the music. She leaned against the bar beside you, her arm brushing yours. “You’ve been watching me all night. What’s the verdict?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you refused to let her fluster you. “You’re not bad,” you replied, keeping your tone light. “For someone who’s clearly showing off.”

She laughed, the sound low and warm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Can you blame me?” she teased. “Hard not to, when I’ve got you as my audience.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. Vi always had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, even in a place as chaotic as this. She reached for your drink, taking a sip without asking, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Bold of you,” you remarked.

“That’s me,” she said with a wink. “Besides, I’ve got something to celebrate tonight.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

She straightened, her grin widening. “Us,” she said simply. “You and me. We… we just work. I’ve got the edge; you’ve got the spark. Together? Unstoppable.”

You blinked, caught off guard by her words. “Are you saying we’re some kind of dynamic duo?” you asked, amused.

“I’m saying we’ve got chemistry,” she replied, leaning closer. Her voice dropped, softer now. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The way we just… click?”

Her words hung in the air, and your heart raced under the weight of her gaze. She wasn’t teasing anymore; there was something raw and unguarded in her expression. You searched her face, and for once, there was no smirk, no bravado. Just Vi, honest and vulnerable, laying herself bare.

“Vi,” you began, your voice almost lost in the music. “I…”

She cut you off with a grin, her confidence creeping back in. “Don’t overthink it, okay?” she said. “Just dance with me.”

Before you could protest, she grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the dance floor. The crowd swallowed you both, the music pounding around you, but all you could focus on was her. The way her hands found your waist, the way her body moved against yours, the way her eyes never left yours—it was intoxicating.

“You know,” she murmured as her lips brushed your ear, “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’ve got this energy… it’s got me hooked.”

Your breath hitched, her words sending a thrill through you. “Hooked, huh?” you managed, your hands resting on her shoulders. “Is that your way of saying you’re obsessed?”

She chuckled, her voice low and sultry. “Maybe I am,” she admitted, her hands tightening slightly on your hips. “But you’re not making it easy to play it cool.”

You smirked, leaning closer until your faces were inches apart. “Who said I wanted you to play it cool?”

Her eyes darkened, her gaze flickering to your lips. The air between you crackled with tension, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. The music, the crowd, the flashing lights—none of it mattered. There was only her.

“You’re dangerous,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the pounding bass. “You know that, right?”

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, your voice equally soft.

Her lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “You’re gonna be trouble for me, aren’t you?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” you replied, tilting your head slightly in challenge.

Vi didn’t answer right away. Instead, she closed the remaining distance between you, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was equal parts soft and electrifying. It was the kind of kiss that left you breathless, that made your head spin and your heart race.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, and her smirk was back in full force. “Yeah,” she said, her voice husky. “Definitely trouble. But I think I can handle it.”

And as you stood there, wrapped up in her, you couldn’t help but think that maybe she was right. Maybe together, you really could handle anything.

[whisperofsong]

Summary: Rhett contemplates whether he’ll ever have lasting love.

Word Count: 1,017

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, and mentions of religion

Note: This writing piece is inspired by Taylor Swift’s song, “The Prophecy.” I feel this song would resonate with Rhett as he is misunderstood and vulnerable despite his rough exterior. Thank you for reading and supporting my work🫶🏼

____________________________________________

Rhett gazed out his bedroom window, watching his parents assist each other with chores on their ranch. Celia and Royal were working beside one another and engaged in what appeared to be amicable conversation. Although Rhett was unable to read their lips, Celia said something and the stern look on her face was replaced by a wry smile. Royal, a man of few words, a man who scowled more than he smiled, stopped what he was doing. Rhett noted his father’s jerky shoulder movements, only to realize they were moving like that because he was laughing. His father’s head fell backwards and deep laughter filled the air, its sound faint through the glass of Rhett’s window.

Once Royal was finally able to regain his composure, he stood up and wiped the dirt clinging to his weathered jeans. He towered over his wife, saying something that made her shake her head and grin simultaneously, before Celia pulled herself off the ground. They shared a kiss and walked in the opposite direction from the house, their hands intertwined.

While his parents had their fair share of problems, their steadfast commitment to their marriage and supporting one another was a constant in Rhett’s life. He certainly had his own ideas of what he would do differently in his own marriage, if marriage was even in his future, but he admired Celia’s and Royal’s devotion to one another.

Rhett cast his eyes downward, that familiar ache he preferred to suppress stirring once again in the center of his chest. He placed his hand there, kneading the area, but the discomfort prevailed. He was classified as many things by the residents of Wabang, Wyoming: a cad, player, ladies’ man, manwhore, etc. It’s not as if those terms weren’t fitting. Rhett got around and he didn’t harbor any shame about his abilities to attract and charm women. He wasn’t embarrassed that those in town gossiped about his one-night stands, whispered about rumors they’d been told, and sometimes embellished when regaling others with his latest salacious escapades. No, he held his head with pride and appeared to be nonchalant because he truly wasn’t bothered by these things. He was bothered by one thing, though, and it was that the individuals in town believed flings and lust-filled evenings were enough for him. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

He desired a partner as much as anyone else. Someone to come home to at the end of the day, someone in whom he could confide. Someone to tell his fears and dreams to without judgment. Someone to make him laugh when the weight of his burdens became heavy. Someone who would love him just as he is.

Years ago, he thought he had found someone who could fulfill this role. Maria Olivares expressed an interest in him and he felt pulled towards her, too. Like him, she envisioned more for herself that extended beyond the confines of Wabang, and he mused that they might be able to do more together someday. Their conversations sowed seeds of hope and gave Rhett something to look forward to in the midst of challenges and daily drudgery. They also made his physical relationship with Maria more meaningful because it was the first time that sex wasn’t just a mechanism for releasing tension; it was a way to convey his intense love.

Their relationship continued when she began college, but as time progressed, their dynamic shifted. Maria was outgrowing Rhett and although she didn’t explicitly tell him this herself, he knew it anyway.

Eventually, their relationship devolved into an on again/off again one that reopened the former void in his life. For a while, Rhett settled for having part of her as opposed to none of her, but this arrangement grew stale in time, and he could no longer accept it. He planned to confront her about it when she returned after her first semester of graduate school because he wasn’t counting on Maria having news of her own: she met someone and it was rapidly becoming serious. Maria’s revelation tore his insides apart, but he had too much pride to display his true emotions. Instead, he swallowed the words he practiced in front of his mirror numerous times, mustered what he hoped resembled a genuine smile, and uttered the words, “I’m happy for you.”

Maria was the last and only woman that made him believe he was close to finally having a lifelong partner. Ever since the demise of their relationship, he sought women who would provide instant gratification, who would use him as they pleased and allow him to do the same. It certainly passed the time and temporarily filled his hollow heart, but as soon as dawn arrived and their indentations disappeared from his bed, that emptiness gnawed at him once again.

Rhett wondered whether he was doomed; perhaps his fate was to be alone. He didn’t want to accept that fate, though, so he turned to a higher power. Although he wouldn’t classify himself as religious, he occasionally offered up prayers when things in his life seemed dire and were causing him deep distress. He felt the lack of love in his life justified praying, so that’s what he did, but his desire had yet to be granted. He determined it must be punishment. After all, he wasn’t virtuous by any means, but there were times when he tried to be a good person, like doing additional chores on the ranch, even when the darkness of the night engulfed him, running errands for Celia, and putting some money in the collection box at the local church. But that must not have been enough.

He finally turned away from his bedroom window and laid down on his bed. He peered up at the ceiling, visions of someone made just for him flashing in his mind, but his eyes grew heavy and could no longer remain open. As he drifted off to sleep, he continued imagining a life with the promise of love, one in which a woman wouldn’t abandon him in the morning, but would stay forever.

@lewmagoo @luminousnotmatter @floydsmuse @rhettabbotts @sunblchdfly @sebsxphia

[k-zuzulibrary]

민기 s.mg

song mingi 𖹭 reader

who are you?

story synopsis: you, a determined college student, are starting fresh this semester — cutting off toxic friends and focusing on your goals, including creating your own video game when you cross paths with mingi, a vibrant and cheeky guy from your art history class, your interactions begin with an awkward and teasing exchange. as your dynamic shifts from annoyance to unexpected connection, you find yourself caught up in mingi's playful persistence and your growing curiosity about him, despite your best efforts to keep your distance.

content: typical college romance, significant hate to significant others, robotic!reader, lighthearted fluff, probably an inaccurate depiction of art majors (even as an art major myself), not proofread, lowercase intended.

zuzu's note: hey! this is long overdue from this post LMAO. a small something to fulfill my carnal need for romance w/mingi. it started off as a oneshot but now i am making it a series. inspired by the kbl semantic error, so credits and all that<333

chap1 | chap2 | chap3 | chap4 | chap5 | chap6 | chap7 | chap8 | chap9 | chap10

main masterlist.

you stood in the quiet corner of the art gallery, the soft hum of muffled voices fading into the background as your eyes remained glued to the painting in front of you titled "hop." it was a striking piece — bold strokes of color, carefully chaotic, yet it held a balance that tugged at something deep within you. your heart swelled with admiration, the kind reserved for things that felt like they could tell your secrets if you stared long enough.

the small placard below the painting displayed the artist’s name in elegant script. song mingi. next to it, a phone number was scribbled in pen on the gallery brochure pinned to the wall. it was as if the artist himself had left breadcrumbs, daring someone to reach out. you fumbled for your phone, angling it to capture the number before anyone else noticed.

“that’s my favorite too,” a voice said, uncomfortably close.

you jumped, nearly dropping your phone. you turned your head to find a tall figure leaning casually against the wall beside you, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. he nodded toward the painting as though the two of you were old friends sharing a secret.

“do you like it?” he asked.

“it’s beautiful,” you replied stiffly, edging away. “i was just admiring it...”

“want a picture?” he asked, his grin widening.

you raised an eyebrow. “of the painting?”

“no,” he said, that maddening smirk still in place. “of me. with it. you know, the whole ‘art and artist’ kind of vibe.”

you blinked, incredulous. you gave him a once-over, noting the messy hair, casual clothes, and sketchy skateboard that screamed wannabe cool. an artist? not likely. just another obnoxious student fishing for attention, you thought.

“pass,” you said curtly. without waiting for a response, you snapped a quick photo of the phone number, rolled your eyes, and walked away. as you disappeared into the crowd, the man chuckled softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. he glanced up at the painting — his painting — and muttered to himself, “tough crowd.”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚

the new semester was finally here, and you were ready for a fresh start. after months of dealing with toxic friends who drained your energy and motivation, you had decided that enough was enough. this semester, you promised yourself that things would be different. you had cut ties, reorganized your priorities, and — most importantly — you crafted a brand-new schedule that fit the new you perfectly.

your first class was at 5:30 in the morning, a time that scared most students away. but not you. to you, the early hour was a badge of determination. at 3:30 AM sharp, your alarm blared, and you sprang into action.

your routine was methodical, almost meditative. a quick stretch to shake off the sleep, a hot shower to wake your senses, and a mug of coffee strong enough to jolt you into productivity. you pulled your hair into a neat ponytail, threw on a hoodie and slacks, and grabbed your carefully packed bag. by 4:30 AM, you were stepping into the quiet, still classroom, where the air felt almost sacred, untouched by the chaos of the day to come.

your eyes immediately sought out your favorite spot — third seat by the window, a perfect balance of sunlight and solitude. you claimed it as yours by sheer determination, arriving an hour early to ensure no one else dared to take it. and you planned on doing that every monday to wednesday for the rest of the semester.

as you slid into the chair, you sighed in contentment, your heart swelling with the promise of a fresh beginning.

your plans for the semester went far beyond simply surviving your classes. you were building your own video game, a project that had been a dream for years. every pixel, every line of code — you wanted it to be perfect. the artwork you had admired at the gallery just days ago lingered in your mind, its vibrant strokes and unique style calling out to you.

that work wasn’t just beautiful — it was exactly what you needed. you could already picture it in your game, bringing your world to life in a way you couldn’t achieve alone (something you had to learn to accept). your goal this semester was clear: find the artist, collaborate with them, and create something extraordinary together.

little did you know that the artist was closer than you thought.

the seat next to you remained empty for the rest of the class — probably because your aura wasn’t exactly the most welcoming. you probably should’ve adjusted to your new schedule before committing to a two-hour class right after your 5:30 AM start. the second you stepped out of the classroom, you yawned and darted to where you knew the nearest vending machine stood. after buying your usual, kq energy (black coffee in a can), you slid into a booth nearby and decided it was time to phone the number. it was now or never.

it rang.

at the same time, a phone in the park rang as well. you searched the area, only to spot a familiar tall man in vibrant colors — and a skateboard. you watched as he fished his phone from his back pocket, glanced at the screen, and promptly declined the call. you checked your phone — your call had also been declined. hell no. it couldn't be him? you glanced back at him, but he was already looking at the menu, placing an order.

you let out a sigh and set your phone down, opting to take out your laptop instead. you needed to get a head start on the essay from class. better sooner than later.

just as you started to focus, a stranger slid into the seat across from you, a casual grin on his face as he tapped the edge of his coffee cup.

you glanced up, mildly surprised, "you again?"

"i’ve been here the whole time," he replied, his voice teasing, "you just haven’t noticed."

you rolled your eyes, "what do you want?"

he leaned back in his chair, eyes glinting with amusement. "i was thinking… we’ve never really had a proper conversation. you know, beyond your ‘nobody’ assessment at the gallery the other day."

you didn’t flinch. "i didn’t say that."

"you thought it, though."

"...and what makes you think we're obligated to have a proper conversation?" you asked, slamming your laptop down and locking eyes with him.

"i’m in your art history class."

"i just had art history." you narrowed your eyes. "you weren’t there. i’m sure i would've recognized your vibrance anywhere."

"aw, you recognize my vibrance?" he looked at the colors on his lapels, smirking smugly.

"i don’t like sleazes who skip their first class of the semester." you opened your laptop again, getting back to work.

"hey, i couldn’t make it. i had an interview and emailed the professor 12 days early, we’re all good." he reassured and shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee.

you paused, absorbing that information. "oh."

"oh." he mimicked you in a teasing tone. "okay. fine. so tell me, what’s your least favorite color?" his question came out of nowhere, playful but sharp.

you blinked, taken aback. "my least favorite color?"

"yeah, you know. just something you don’t like. something you’d never wear."

you stared at him, wondering if he was serious or just messing with you. finally, you sighed. "orange. definitely orange. i hate orange. my second-grade teacher loved it, and i never understood why."

he let out a low whistle. "that’s a pretty strong opinion. are you sure?"

"positive." you narrowed your eyes. "now, why would you even ask me that?"

he shrugged, his grin widening. "i was just curious. you seem like the type to have strong opinions about random stuff."

you tilted your head, lips quirking upward. "and you seem like the type to ask stupid questions."

he laughed, leaning in closer. "hey, no such thing as a stupid question. and no need to get defensive. i'm just trying to get to know you better."

you raised an eyebrow. "i think we both know you’re only doing this to annoy me."

"is it working?"

you shot him a side-eye. "unfortunately, yes." you begin typing away at your laptop again, eventually, you paused and stared at him as he fiddled with the cup holder of his hot drink. "by the way," you mused, a slight pout on your lips. "were you really the artist of the work 'hop' in the gallery the other day?"

"yeah... and I just came from an interview at nexora interactive this morning," mingi said matter-of-factly.

nexora? your dream company? for a moment, his immature, irritating image faded, replaced by a faint flicker of... something admirable.

"and," he continued, a sly grin spreading across his face, "were you the one who just rang my phone?" he dangled his phone in front of your face, the gesture obnoxiously playful as his tongue skimmed across his teeth. then, he giggled.

annoying mingi was back.

"why'd you call me? wanna work together or something?" he teased, his tone light but teasingly smug.

"no," you replied curtly, scoffing as you turned your focus back to your laptop. "not anymore..." you mumbled under your breath.

why not? you couldn’t decide. maybe it was the way he dressed like an overgrown kid. maybe it was his relentless antics. or maybe — just maybe — it was because you couldn’t bring yourself to imagine working with someone who might actually land a job at nexora freaking interactive.

or perhaps you just decided, right then and there, that you officially hated song mingi.

"no." you scoffed, your attention returning to your laptop. "not anymore..." you grumbled. why not? you asked yourself. was it because you didn't expect him to dress like a child? act like a child? or was it out of consideration if he actually gets a job at nexora fucking interactive? maybe it was because you just decided out of nowhere that you officially hate this man.

"awww! you wanted to work with me?" he pointed at himself adorably, in disbelief. "me?" he repeated innocently and pushed what little hair he had behind his ear and he smiled sweetly. "i'm flattered..."

suddenly he perked up — like a dog hearing another dog bark.

"i never caught your name."

"you'll never hear it from me." and you slid your laptop back into your pouch, you stood up and you left your drink as you dashed for the exit.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚

©️ 2024 k-zuzu All Rights Reserved.

[tobstr]

-Kisame X reader-

I DID IT!!

((I don't usually finish a lot of my writing stuff))

Real quick

To clarify, I got my inspiration from another fic I've read, a song with ten names, it includes like all the akatsuki members, soo you might see more for them too If I come up with more

aswtn it is created by the lovely @immoralimmortals , you should definitely check it out (I quiet enjoyed it)

They referred to the reader as takara, and I quite like that

I use it like once

You don't need to know their fanfic before reading mine it's just I came up with a one shot that fits into their kisame and reader dynamic

So no worry for any major spoilers

Fic below the cut ↓

A Princess of the night

...

Takara, a princess from another land

What a beauty she was

Her eyes held the stars 

And her voice was as calming as the night 

It could enchant anyone who heard it

Kisame was glad to protect such a lady

She held to the beauty of the moon

A girl sent from space as Tobi would say, if he recalled correctly

He couldn't understand how such a woman could be so gentle and kind to him

What a treat it was really, he wouldn't ask for any more than what he gave

She truly was a princess of the night 

He stood guard just outside her room

The halls were dark

It was quiet, the lady should be sleeping at this point

It was so late

Anyone could come and scoop her up if he's not careful

Hed hate for that to ever happen

He would miss her kind smile

And wonderful voice

…

He can be her knight in shining armor if such happened

His face felt warm as he thought of saving her

Holding her close to keep her safe

.

.

.

A soft creek

Kisasme turned his head over to look at the small lady

“Princess, what are you doing up” he mumbled his voice rough, almost like he was incapable of being gentle 

She rubbed her arm looking off

She was so meek

It was adorable 

“..could you come in” she muttered 

…

He wasn't going to disagree, so he followed in with soft clunks of his metal.

It was dark in her room beside the open curtain letting in the glow of the moon. 

“Are you alright?” he was concerned 

The princess nodded her head softly

She wore a long loose flowy dress

She looked lovely in the moonlight

The curse he wants to hold and touch her

“I'm okay” she hummed rubbing her neck “I wanted company…” she muttered

Kisame forced his gaze away from her, gosh he had too much power over him

“C-could you take off the armor?” she asked softly

She had the power to make  him do anything if she wanted

Yet she was so nervous to ask him to do anything

It was endearing really 

He grunted in response, he tried to sound gentler that time

God, she's softened him up

He took off his helmet, arm bands, and chest plate, setting them aside with a light clang.

He still had the bottom half of his armor on with his black under-turtle neck. 

Her footsteps were quiet as she stepped closer to him

Gently leaning against his chest

…

He was nervous 

What if he was too rough

He was never super good at being gentle

“It's cold… you're warm” she mumbled sleepily 

“Could you stay”

He was cautious about how he held her, Gently wrapping his arms around her form.

He didn't want to hold her too tight

“If that's what you want princess” he murmured

“You should go to sleep,” he said lifting her onto the bed

Soon joining next to her “It's awfully late y’know” he hummed

Be soft, be quiet, be gentle

She scooted next to him.

“im sorry…” she muttered laying her head on his tough chest

“I wanted you here with me” she whispered closing her eyes

…

She hummed listing to his pounding heart

“Your quite nice” She nuzzled her head against him

…

He could be gentle

He can't treat her carefully

He was her knight in shining armor

He could protect her through the night and be the one to keep her safe

 …

She lay next to him, her head resting on his chest. His arm wrapped around her, keeping her close to him so he could feel her warmth.

He quietly looked at her the moonlight just barely lighting up her face

Her eyes were closed as she slept quietly

She was so beautiful

The title of princess befitted her

The lady from the stars

She was truly something magnificent.

…

…

Everything drifted off…

...

…as Kisame awoke in his own bed

.

Rain pattering outside

.

Samehada leaning against his bedside table, his Akatsuki robe hanging off the top of it 

.

Just a silly dream

[minimomoe]

Late to Dinner

Toji x fem Reader

MDNI

Summary: You had a company dinner to attend, but there was no way you were gonna make it

preview: If only somebody could physically remove you from in between your husband’s legs, and him vice versa. It was getting ridiculous but it was one of those days where Megumi was going to be gone the whole day with Yuuji and besides the dinner you and Toji had nothing else to do. The whole day you two had been on each other like rabbits.

an: established relationship, married life, pet names (baby, sweetheart, honey, etc), pegging!!!, maybe dom/sub dynamic hinted but not really, spitting, orgasm denial, uhhh lemme know if I missed anything!

Song inspo: Howl- Florence and the Machine and Pink Matter- Frank Ocean

wct: 1.8k

You were supposed to be getting ready for your company dinner. You had two hours left till it started, and if you account for the time it took to get there, you only had an hour and twenty-ish minutes to do your make up and make sure everything fits. And you were getting ready. Initially. You had your dress laid out, a silver number with a sweetheart neckline and a mid thigh slit that you were going to top off with silver, strappy heels. Toji was going to wear an all black, three piece suit that has been tailored to his body perfectly. You saw it so clearly in your head. The two of you were going to look dashing.

If only somebody could physically remove you from in between your husband’s legs, and him vice versa. It was getting ridiculous but it was one of those days where Megumi was going to be gone the whole day with Yuuji and besides the dinner you and Toji had nothing else to do. The whole day you two had been on each other like rabbits. It was almost as bad as your honeymoon, yet those two weeks still took the cake because, well, you were insatiable for two weeks.

Today was a less intense version of that, but after everything he only whetted your appetite. You don’t know what started your spiral, but you did know that taking a shower together didn’t help. If you were seriously wanting to go to the event, you would’ve locked the door as you showered to really focus on getting clean instead of fooling around underneath the spray of the water with him. Your back still aches from him holding you up against the hard tiled wall, along with your head from hitting it when your orgasms crashed into you first by Toji’s tongue and then by his length. Your lips felt raw and swollen from kissing him so hard, constantly asking and taking more from him and Toji was all too happy to oblige. His own thoughts and actions mirrored yours. Toji wanted to be with you, to really be in you, just as much as you did. Even with your legs shaking and time running out you wanted more.

“Did I ever tell you how pretty you look? God, the things I want to do to you,” you murmured into his skin. He laid supine on the bed now, your legs straddling him and your hands slowly stroking his cock. You were unsure how you really got there, vaguely remembering finally stepping out of the foggy bathroom but bumping into every surface because he couldn’t stop sucking your skin. When the morning comes you are sure your body will be decorated in bruises to remind you of your carelessness.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been holding out on me after all these years,” Toji chuckled.

“We’re slowly getting through my list,” you smiled, nipping his bottom lip. You repositioned yourself to where his legs were open, each limb on the side of you and you took one hand to rub the back of his thigh. Toji was always warm to the touch, but now his body almost burned you from his arousal. You made a tight circle around his frenulum with your fingers and he groaned into your mouth. Your second hand slid down the back of his thigh, closer to his ass, then tapped the plug that seated itself in him. You tried to speak yet every time your lips had the slightest space between his he hunted them down to close the gap. “Let me make you feel good, honey, give me a sec,” you laughed. Wasting no time you quickly crawled off the bed and put on your strap with blinding speed, only tripping once before making yourself home between his thick thighs.

Toji rested on his elbows as he watched you slowly remove the plug, your eyes bright with anticipation. “Look how ready you are for me,” you purred. He didn’t even see when you grabbed the lube, or maybe it was always within reach since you have been in a horny daze since the morning, but he watched you pour it over yourself and him. You gently massaged two fingers in him and watched his eyes roll back into his head. “Keep those eyes on me, big guy.” You pressed a kiss on his knee, then another one above it, not restraining yourself when you gently bit his skin. You licked the area clean, your tongue feeling to small indentations of your teeth before doing it again, all while your fingers stretched him out.

Another elongated groan fell from his lips. “You can’t keep teasing me like this.”

“Mmm, we can’t rush this and you know that,” you hummed. The truth as you both knew is that Toji was already pretty prepared. You just like orchestrating his facial expressions as much as you can. You pressed your lips to him and he took them hungrily. You broke it to line up your eight inches to his entrance, spreading his legs wider for easier access, your hands sliding to the back of his knees.

You watched in awe as your length disappeared into Toji. It was a lewd vision, one that made your ears hot, and you had to split your attention between that and his face that was ruddy with blush. “You always make the prettiest picture under me, baby,” you praised. “We’re never making it to that damn dinner.”

“Fuck the dinner,” Toji strained, pulling you in closer by cuffing your nape till your foreheads touched. You started slow out of necessity, only going faster when Toji urged you to. All the sheets would have to be changed when you were spent, if you were ever going to get tired. Precum dripped onto his abdomen with every thrust you delivered. So much for taking a shower, you thought. You would both need another one by the end of the day.

Both of your arms were around Toji’s head, caging his head and you lifted one hand to put in his mouth. Your index and middle finger first went deep, almost gagging him and then you pinched his tongue with them. He stuck his tongue out further and a line of spit travelled from his mouth to yours. You sealed it with a harsh kiss you both moaned into. Your pelvis slapped the back of his thighs, your thrusts reaching deep inside and his teeth caught your lips, threatening to break the skin and he was barely holding back. The pupils in his eyes were blown wide and swallowed your image. If you went any faster the bed below you might start sliding across the floor.

You could tell Toji was getting close from the way he was fucking you back, the way his cock looked ready to burst. Your hands held tight to his hips instead, curving your strokes up to hit that spot that would make the edges of his vision blurry.

You being ever the sadist, you wanted to see how much longer this could last.

“Don’t cum.”

“What?”

A smile grew on your face. “Don’t cum.”

“Shit—”

“Hold it for me,” you ordered. Your hand wrapped around his cock and your thumb closed his slit. His eyes widened and his throat bobbed from a thick swallow.

“Baby,” he started. He shouldn’t be surprised. You always pulled something like this at the last minute but he could never prepare himself. You didn’t slow down despite telling him not to come, moving even faster with a crazed little smile dancing on your lips.

“I know you can do it, Toji. All you gotta do is wait till I say so,” you promised. When were you going to give him permission? Never. You just liked to see him throw his head back in ecstasy, then forward in determination. The speed of your hips went down, grinding slow, treacherously slowly into him, your tongue licking the sweat off his collarbone and you blinked up at him.

“You’re doing so well, so good, honey.”

“FuckinghellshitFUCK I’m going to cum,” he growled.

“Come onnn, just a little longer,” you begged, your hand growing tighter around his cock and a strangled noise rose from his chest. You had to give it to Toji, he held out much longer than you thought he would. Every muscle in his body was pulled taut and he was gonna snap at any second. His eyebrows were knit tightly together, his teeth bared and clenched together, trying to push air in and out of his lungs. With a kiss so sweet you started to stroke him once again, giving him the relief he’s been keeping at bay. His release went all over his chest with a shout, a deep shudder running through his body. You fucked him through his orgasm, showering him with praise and kisses anywhere you could. Exertion weighed heavy on your body, your activities from the day finally catching up to you. You panted heavily, carefully getting out of his legs and making a fumbling mess to get out of your strap. You went to the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth to wipe him down, kissing him softly in the process and throwing the cloth in the laundry basket. You climbed on top of him then collapsed into a deep sleep when his arms wrapped around you.

When you woke up it was late in the night. You searched for your phone, having to urgently check something. It wasn’t the messages from coworkers asking where you are that you were wondering about. No, you went to your period tracker app and sure enough, you were ovulating. Today was the day you were the most fertile, so you rolled over to show Toji your screen. His eyes blinked at the bright screen for a few moments before registering what he was reading.

“You could fuck a baby in me,” you said seductively, knowing good and well you were on birth control and Toji had a vasectomy last year. Your leg was already creeping on his body again, and you slowly found yourself on top of him.

“Are you trying to kill me, woman,” he grunted, but his hands were already on your ass, massaging it before giving one cheek a heavy slap.

You bit your lip then replied. “I get it. You’re getting old and it’s practically your bedtime.” Your hips rolled over his hardening cock and smiled. “Baby making can wait till you rest up.”

Suddenly you were on your back, your knees pressed into your chest and Toji putting almost all his weight on you. He rubbed his length over your puffy pussy, making you squirm and mewl under him. His eyes darkened with a challenge.

“Looks like I have to fill you up so you can stop talking shit.”

[tryingtimi]

44 👀

The Crimson Masquerade

One of my favourite songs from NBT, so thank you for the number!❤️ It also helped me finish a piece I started a hundred years ago. This was originally written to this drabble challenge, and it was a nice little time with Lonel and the crew. Plus, I got to explore some of the Phobia too, so it's a winner for sure.

Small Context: Lonel, Selys and Odena go to the Phobia to gather information on vampire activites, after Odena found out about vampirism and werewolves and was adamant on going with the boys.

DYNAMIC AND ENVIRONEMNT EXPLORATION | NON-CANON | WC: 2,278

“Is this some kind of sick joke?”

Odena held back a smile as she squeezed on Lonel’s forearm. They stopped at the entrance of the ballroom—the biggest room the Phobia held within. Curving concrete twisted into silky fabrics hanging loosely on the walls, and red lightning painted everything into a sensual mystery of the night. The dark, sparkling decoration brought a sinister touch to the environment.

Wicked shadows chased the lights on every idling, masked person’s face.

“The best disguise is standing in plain sight, is it not?” Selys asked, still holding out the wolf mask to Lonel. He ignored the other’s subtle snarling, keeping an oblivious smile on his lips. “Besides, it suits you, wolf. You can rip my head off if it doesn’t work.”

“Don’t tempt me, hellspawn.”

“As much as I enjoy watching bickering men tearing at each other, we should start mingling, don’t we, gentlemen?” Odena offered, putting up her own mask: a beautifully crafted hummingbird with feathers that felt too real to the touch, and a small, gilded beak adorned with gemstones. It was a masterpiece of a true craftsman, just like every other one that VIP attendants handed out to guests.

“The lady is right, of course.” Selys mimicked her, placing the horned, hardened paper over his face. Its red matched with the lightning, and the colours of the Phobia. “Shall we then?”

He gestured with his hand, eyes creased deeply from his now-hidden smile. Lonel huffed, snatching the wolf mask away, and putting up with a disapproving grunt. The creation did fit him, actually. Detailed to the sharp point of the carved fangs, it was no less a sight to the laical eye.

Odena hooked back her arm into Lonel’s as they walked deeper into the enemy’s den.

They earned — very proficiently disguised — glances with their pause, but none of the people seemed to think too much into it. Staying alert, however, never hurt anyone. Therefore Odena pulled out her filigrane cigarettes gifted by Selys and offered one to Lonel as well.

“Thanks,” he said, distaste evident in his tone.

Her smoke slipped through her teeth as she smiled at him, the nearly translucent, forming and disappearing shapes crawling to the thin cloud that occupied the rest of the ceiling.

“And how should we know which one is your kind?”

Lonel emphasised the last words with syrupy venom in his throat. He might have accepted Selys, but not the other… vampires.

Odena found it still odd to name such creatures with certainty.

“You’ll know. This way,” Selys led them to a table packed with bite-sized tasters and tarts. Overwhelming perfume and incense clouds lingered in the air since they stepped into the club, yet here the scent of food finally overruled it. One could nearly taste the salmon salt and lemon sour, champagne sweet and absinthe bitter with every breath. She was glad for that humble dinner they ate before coming so her focus wouldn’t falter. Selys began filling up his plate. “They’re preying, and outnumber the warmbloods. I’m positive you both can spot predators on a hunt.”

Odena ran her gaze over the crowd, careful not to make eye contact with anyone longer than a few seconds. She felt Lonel’s biceps tense a little under her palm, so she gave it a reassuring squeeze. Not that he would need it, she knew him too well to believe it could calm him. But it was something, and it helped her ignore the name Sleys addressed them with.

She took a plate, and packed some fruit and cheese at it, letting Lonel handle the drinks. Orange and red reflectors rushed to embrace them, then slid onward without a goodbye. The sensual, quiet music played relentlessly somewhere above. Odena could barely see the food in the dimness of the room, so she did her best to follow Lonel’s forever advice and let her nose guide her.

A man walked beside her, reaching for another glass of drink.

“Good evening,” he said, clear intention in his voice. Odena turned to him, alongside Lonel and Selys. The man wore a black tuxedo over his wine-red shirt and vest. Chest covered with frizzled cotton, corn blond hair freely flowing onto his shoulders. He looked as if he had stepped out of one of Selys paintings in his manor. “Who are your lovely guests Dumwermere?”

“Mr and Mrs Morninger. A pleasure to meet you, sir,” Odena initiated, offering her hand which the man took with clear amusement. It was the coldest kiss ever planted on her skin.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Lonel’s arm tensed again, pulling it out from her grip and rather resting a hand on her waist. He did not offer a handshake to the man, but after a hidden poke in his side, he nodded as a greeting. The skin creased softly around one of the man’s eyes underneath the gilded fox mask, gaze steady on Lonel’s face. He kept staring with a smile as if he mused about a secret irony.

Selys continued, polite, yet distant. “They’re old workmates of mine. Mr and Mrs Morninger, this is Silvenus Galhart, the Phobia’s event manager. The praise you’ve showered me about the interior Mrs Morninger, they all shall go to him.”

“Oh, marvellous job, Mr Galhart. I’m thoroughly impressed.” Odena mimicked a smile sweet enough. She hoped for an opportunity to pry, but Silvenus simply bowed his head a touch, sipping from his drink.

“You flatter me, my lady. But it’s still early. I should only get a hold of my musicians so the evening could bloom into its full form.”

Odena caught a peek of the moderate stage in the belly of the club. A varnished guitar body and cymbals glinted around the three figures shuffling around the pedestal. The blackness of the stage was lost in the shadowed corner they were put into, making the people above glide on nothing but pure, thick darkness. Lonel joined her gaze for a second.

“Aren’t they out there?” he asked.

Silvenus inclined his brow in what seemed like well-contained irritation. “Only half of them. Our frontman and lead guitarist vanished into thin air, and we’re about to start in ten minutes.”

His tight tone told Odena that it wasn’t exactly the first time they might have done this. Silvenus, also, was surprisingly talkative. She assumed he might be rather ashamed of difficulties concerning the event, yet he didn’t give any indication of that. He simply looked as someone who had had enough.

“That’s tough. Are they playing tributes or originals?”

Lonel’s continuing question earned a subtle look from both Selys and Odena. His body was still tense as ever, yet he sounded nothing short of calm. There was the slightest hint of his distaste from earlier, but that was barely perceptible too. She took a drag from her cigarette, trying to figure out where he was heading — and why. Silvenus, on the other hand, had rearranged his face into the amused expression from before.

“Triubtes for tonight. Some of our guests might not be familiar with their work otherwise, given the large number of new faces,” he said, creasing his brows over his mask, and offering a darkly curious stare. “Forgive me, if I’m frank, but I feel like you have a proposition for me, Mr. Morninger.”

Odena did have the exact same feeling.

The music overhead began to quiet ever so slowly. A sign that the start was near, perhaps. Silvenus glanced up when the lights began to dim, then brighten again.

Lonel put out his smoke on the closest glass ashtray, and his hand pulled Odena a touch closer with a gentle tug.

“If you need people, I can get around a guitar, and she was the lead singer back at home in our school band. We’re also familiar with all the big hits of the last decade, so we could fill in for the time being.”

“A musical couple, I see,” Silvenus purred in a suddenly deeply intrigued manner. He conjured a wide, yet somehow sharp smile on his face. “It must have been fate that brought us together tonight then. It would be much help, if you could do that, Mr. and Mrs. Morninger. Alongside a fair compensation for your trouble, of course.”

Surprise would have been an understatement to what Odena was struck with. She kept her face friendly, nodding along, but she moulded into Lonel’s side sharp as a sign to elaborate on his train of thought immediately when the opportunity arose.

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought what a turn this event would take,” Selys commented, his words edged with jest for the public ear. “Although I had the pleasure of hearing them both in their respective roles separately, and I must say, they are definitely great candidates, Silvenus.”

Lonel spared a sharp glance at Selys, but only for a moment.

Silvenus put his palms together when the next dimming and brightening danced through the room, glancing towards the stage this time. “Excellent, wonderful. I’d like to ask for a minute then, to talk to the present members. Just a minute.” And with that, he slipped into the shadows of the half-lit ballroom.

Odena leaned towards Lonel’s shoulder, half turning to Selys too. “Would you please let in on us, too?”

She let her voice drip with a hint of her awakening frustration. She didn’t mind trying something with more risk, but she was never for improvisation. Not this kind, anyway.

Selys drew up a brow in support of her question.

“He must have been one of him.” Lonel scratched at his short beard, a habit Odena knew to be a nervous movement since he could grow it out. “And he seemed the type who could get us to the rest of them. If not, then the attention will.”

“Always an advantage to make the enemy owe you,” Selys smiled in impressed agreement.

On the far end, Silvenus’s faint figure seemed to finish talking to the assembled band members. His mask gleamed wickedly in the light while he turned to them, gesturing something Odean couldn’t see, but interpreted as an inviting motion. Her skin prickled from the possibility that he might see them clearly even through the shadowed distance.

“If they’re not trapping us first.” Her words met with a half-lidded, waiting set of eyes from Lonel. “Keep the possibility that he realised what and who we are. Just to stay alert.”

A small smile — barely but a smirk, really, found Lonel’s lips. “Look at you preaching caution, after dragging us here in the first place.”

They made their way to the stage, leaving Selys behind, and pushing through bodies at some points. It didn’t go unnoticed how Lonel made way to her with his hands, paying attention to that none of them touched her if it wasn’t necessary.

“I’ve had a great mentor to learn from,” she said, matching his casually accusatory tone nonetheless. It should have been evident that none of them were to sit around and wait until Selys alone figured something out. Not with all at stake.

They climbed backstage, joining the figures waiting in the ominous darkness of the curtains. Silvenus wore a dark smile, but a welcoming posture.

“Band, they would be your mates for the next forty-five minutes, the least. Go easy on them.” He then turned to Lonel and Odena. “Thank you for your offer, again. I’ll make sure our people are here until you finish, and after that, your food, drink and entertainment will be on the Phobia.”

“That is most generous of you, Mr Galhart.”

Odena reciprocated his smile, seeking a hold in Lonel’s warm touch on her back. Her mind clouded just a touch, yet it cleared as soon as it came. So, the cigarette truly neutralised mindreading from the vampires, just as Selys claimed. That, at least, was a relief.

However, it also confirmed Lonel’s previous statement about Silvenus.

“Alright, warm up to each other as much as possible before we start, and make the evening shine,” was the last thing Silvenus said, before he departed to the front.

The three members eyed them with a united gaze that bordered on curiosity and disdain. Two men and a woman, dressed in what seemed a fusion of blackened leather and dark satin. The harsh, expressive make-up on their faces only sharpened their look.

The woman stepped forth first, a gum livid between her teeth.

“Which one of you sings?” she asked in a rather soft voice. It did not go much with the look.

Odena stepped forward, extending a hand. “Livia Morninger, nice to meet you.”

“A delight.” She looked down at her hand, then back at her face. “Sing for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sing for me. We need to check if you match with tonight’s tone. If not, that gruff should do behind you.”

Odena retreated her tongue from her cheeks which she pushed into, and met the woman’s nonchalant eyes. If they wanted to get rid of her, then they should do better than that. She inhaled softly and began a song she couldn’t get out of her head when she first started to wonder about joining the school band. Her voice came out rusty and in clear need of oiling. But, it wasn’t half bad. She sang the lyrics, hitting most of the notes clearly, and the others a touch twisted, yet not breaking the harmony. She added her own flair to many parts, even those that she experimented with the family during holidays.

In the end, the two men stepped beside the woman too.

Odena’s throat dried out, not used to such a use anymore. She felt Lonel’s presence beside her, close and ready.

The woman shrugged, nodding towards the water bottles on a little stool, while the shorter of the men handed Lonel an electronic guitar. “Good enough. I’m Marcelin, this is Jerico,” she gestured to the tall, lanky man. Then towards the shorter, bulkier one. “And that is Bichtra. Here’s the setlist. Study it, while we tune in, and follow our lead outside. That goes to you too, wolfman.”

Lonel grunted, plucking some strings and visibly cracking the arrogant demeanour on all the members for a moment, as if to wordlessly say he didn't have faith in his skill in vain, after all. Odena crossed her arms at the fact he had a more well-maintained skillset.

“Huh.” Jerico didn’t add more, but he did pluck at his own guitar. Soon enough, the two men began a routine of some kind, harmonising, and what seemed to practicing some passages. Bichtra joined them with his drums here and there. Odena, in the meantime, earned a little from Marcelin’s grace. Turned out, she was the keyboardist and one of a kind at that. She could help Odena work out some of the kinks before a staff member arrived to tell them it was time.

Odena felt at her neck. It was a long time ago since she stepped onto the stage, let alone was expected to rule it. She wouldn’t have been nervous for the crowd if she had known there weren’t people — creatures among them that actively feasted on her kind. Yet there she was, about to entertain them.

The things she didn’t do to gather information.

Lonel’s palm touched the small of her back, the soft fabric of her dress thin enough so she could feel the calluses on his skin. She turned to him, finding his overly calm, almost bored expression close. “Ready?”

“Hardly.”

He scoffed a half-joking sound. “Just like old times, then.”

“Just like old times,” she huffed out a short laugh, walking close beside Lonel. The bustling outside began to quiet, people’s chattering softening into a barely audible buzz. “It better work, Nel, or I’m going to rip your head off.”

They took their places at the edge of the stage. Even in this situation, a kind of nostalgia found her. Lonel, wrinkled and hardened with age, seemed to morph back into their teenage years as well. And he truly did, as he leaned over to her ear and whispered like he did back then.

“If it doesn’t, you are more than welcome to. But you wanted to come, and you wanted information. So, it’s time to sing for your supper, Blossom.”

[tavyliasin]

The Scent of Cinnamon 4 - The Morning, The Tailor, and The Fit of the Glove

Raphael wakes up to the consequences of the deal he made the night before, and realises Haarlep has no clothes to wear save for his own which are somehow a poor fit on his copied body. A trip to Waterdeep sparks more conflict as the two fiends begin to find their places with each other, pushing each others boundaries. Haarlep also has to reckon with the consequences of their end of the bargain, with shadows of their past biting at their heels. 5,139 Words - AO3 Link Click Here

--- Summary: The pair head out to Waterdeep to a tailor who can make something for Haarlep to wear other than Raphael's old clothes that feel like a poor fit on the incubus' borrowed body. Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 0.5/5  Content Warnings: Mild Power Play, Mild Angst,

Spoilers Vague House of Hope and Act 3, but most of this series is focused on what came before. Canon Compliance The mention of a certain mad mage should match up roughly to the time he was actively in Waterdeep. But even the official lore is inconsistent on that one so we're running Rule of Cool. Also, the perfume is the exact canon scent according to 2 pieces of in game lore (Yurgir saying Raphael smells of cherry, and a letter of Raphael's that carries the scent of Palmarosa and Black Pepper in his perfume) Other Notes This is really to explore the dynamics between the two as they get to know each other outside the boudoir...don't worry, they'll be back there soon enough.

Song Pairing Everything You Hate by Project Vela "Looks like the time has come to pull the plug on the weak Your independence gone, control is not what it seems It's time to rise up and take it into the streets The life support is cut, the transformation complete

My actions don't seem so clean You're out there pulling the strings Anything any cage that couldn't hold Has escaped and it's out of your control Everything you ever hoped that you could be Only exists in a fake reality

You and I are one and the same One reflection bound by different names Recognised that you have become everything you hate Everything you hate"

--- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT --- ---

The Morning, The Tailor, and The Fit of the Glove

Raphael stirred in his sleep, suddenly aware of an unfamiliar weight resting on his leg. It felt like his tail was draped over something too, yet there was nothing beneath when he tested moving it. The awareness of his own body began to spread through his consciousness, piece by piece. There were ghosts where aches might have been, even if pain had healed his muscles still felt the echoes of whatever it was he had-

Whoever it was. And that who was snoring quietly on the pillow beside him, their tail draped over his leg, their hand resting lightly on his waist. 

The previous day came rushing back as the last vestiges of a far more peaceful dream were banished from the cambion’s reeling mind. His eyes blinked open to see exactly what he was dreading: the imperfect mirror of his own face, a slight smile tugging at the corners of copied lips, but a different scent drifting on their warm breath.

Cinnamon. 

Ah. That was it. The incubus and their deal, the contract signed in ink and in lust, his body the very page that they had inscribed their presence upon. 

Raphael almost expected their eyelids to reveal the vivid emerald as they began to slowly open, but instead there was only the infernal fire burning around their pupils as they met his gaze.

“Mmm~ I could get used to this~” They purred, stretching their wings lazily behind them before pulling the sheets closer around them.

The cambion already felt his ire rising. He might have invited this…this…Harlot to his bed, but that did not give them the right to treat it like a luxury resort. He kicked his leg free of their tail and threw the covers off the pair of them as he forced his exhausted body out of the comfort and warmth of the night.

“Five more hours~” Haarlep pulled the sheets back over them, covering their face, but not before he caught the hint of a grin spreading across it.

“Petulant creature.” Raphael waved his hands in a swift motion, a few brief words tugging the threads of the Weave into ripping the covers from the incubus’ grip, tossing them out of reach on the floor. 

“Spoilsport.”  They groaned, brows furrowing and the fire in their eyes flashing dangerously as they scowled at him. “I am the one with the power in this room, by your own contract’s terms.” 

“And do you wish to spend your days in here completely nude?” Raphael was already pulling on the fresh clothes that had been set aside for him. A modest outfit, but one that nonetheless showed his figure. “Or will you concede that you need at least one outfit you feel comfortable in? My clothes will fit you, but I suspect they are not to your taste.”

“Clothing is hardly a necessity for my line of work~ Do you not like what you see, Archduke?” It seemed the incubus had no intention of ceasing their insulting nickname, a completely transparent attempt to rile him up. “Made to your very own specifications, no less! Aren’t you curious what it might feel like to-”

“No.” He snapped, turning away as he continued to fuss over the fastenings of his shirt, frustrated by his fingers refusing to obey him. He wasn’t ready to accept that the incubus was flustering him, even the shadow of that thought entering his mind was more infuriating than the sound of their voice. His voice. Not his voice… They were like an echo, distorted by the landscape it ricocheted from. Within every word, he could still hear-

—

“Let me help you, then.” Haarlep had grown tired of trying to cling to the comforts of silk sheets for now. Their lips just brushed the pointed tip of Raphael’s ear as they wound their arms around his waist to fix the fastenings he was having such trouble with. “There. Not that difficult, was it?~” The cambion shivered at their touch, stepping quickly away from where their naked body had pressed against his back, but their tail wound around his wrist to turn him back to face them. “Could you not-” 

“Wait.” They cut him off again, firm yet soft. His collar was crooked… The incubus carefully straightened the piece, pulling the ruffles into place and ensuring they were even. “The master of the house has appearances to keep up, does he not?” 

“Quite so.” Raphael clawed back his dignity with the reply, reaching forward to fix Haarlep’s hair, even though they both well knew that not a strand was out of place. “You will have to wear something for now. Wait here.” 

Haarlep watched as he strode confidently to an old armoire, searching through a variety of finery that was neatly pressed and stored within. It seemed most of the options were objectionable, until he pulled out a simple outfit in a near-black tone. It would have looked absurdly severe on the cambion himself, a poor match for the line of his jaw or the hint of apprehension in the expression above it. “It will do, for now.” 

“Beggars, Harlot, make for poor choosers.” He held it out at arm’s length, clearly trying to avoid the ire in the incubus’ gaze.

“The day I beg you for anything, all of Avernus will be colder than Cania.” Haarlep snatched the outfit from the cambion’s claws, quick to remind him in every moment of his place in this room, loathe to leave the one space they retained control. 

“Perhaps if you play your role well, you will have no need to do anything more than ask.” Raphael turned away, as if to give them privacy to put on their clothes. An absurd notion at this point, but nevertheless they began to dress as he continued. “We have our deal, there is no reason for us to be adversaries, you know.”

“Hmmm maybe so,” Haarlep wound their arms around his waist again, half dressed but their shirt still open, claws teasing at his hips as they held him close. “But it’s so much more fun to feel you squirm like this~” 

“Degenerate.”  Raphael’s tail swung around and whipped their thigh - hard enough to be felt, but not to hurt. He gasped. “Mmmm harder~” Haarlep moaned in his ear, relishing at the shiver they felt beneath their fingertips, drifting lower already. “You won’t even feel the pain, just the pleasure.”

—

The cambion shuddered. They were right, he felt a brief but clear rush of heat… “Absurd.” He lied.

“There’s the trick, Archduke,” Haarlep purred, the bitch dropping to an even more seductive tone. The imitation of his voice barely sounded familiar, the tone of their previous voice snaking through his senses far stronger while he couldn’t see them behind him. “It’s only arousing because your body likes it. The pleasure I feel is yours, in more ways than one. Don’t you want to try it out? Find the limits of your own debauchery-” 

“We are going to be late if you don’t stop this nonsense.” Another lie, though this one was more believable than the last. The tailor would wait as long as necessary, he had enough of a hold on them that they would not consider turning him away even if he marched them out of bed to sew a ballgown in the middle of the night. “Fine~ Have it your way.” Their touch left him immediately, his body suddenly colder for the lack of their warmth pressing against him. It took conscious effort to stop his tail from reaching out to find them. “Then tell me, if we are to rush to this appointment of yours… Will this suffice?” 

Raphael turned around to take a look at the incubus dressed in an outfit he had not considered wearing in decades. It was a little tight on them, and the shirt had been left half open to expose part of their chest in a way that had no right to be so tempting. Their tail was twitching impatiently, yet their wings spread behind them as they struck a swift pose and flashed him a grin. He turned away again, reluctant to look any longer in case their eyes alone drew him closer. Outside the room he would be in control again…at least on the surface. “Come.”

“Hah! I’m not that easy-” 

“You know precisely what I meant.” He stepped beyond the door and into the hallway, subconsciously standing a little taller and straighter as he wore the power of his title like a monarch’s cloak. “Hurry up.” 

—

Haarlep followed Raphael through the House until they arrived at a room with a shimmering portal, several short steps leading up to it. 

“An easier method of transportation, no point in wasting energy on magic when permanent spells can be cast.” The cambion waved dismissively towards the huge arch and the warped reality within it. 

“And where, precisely, does it lead?” Haarlep eyed it suspiciously, unwilling to play a game of ‘follow-the-leader’ without at least some idea of whether they would be treading the ice fields of Cania or the muddy streets of a Halfling village.  “Waterdeep.” Raphael replied simply, stepping forwards and stopping just short to beckon them to hurry. “I did not take you for one so hesitant.” “And I did not take you for someone to rely on mortals for your tailoring.” They didn’t bother to keep the disdain from their voice, although they did step obediently forwards all the same.

“One more thing,” the cambion turned to face them, a swift casting of a spell rendering them completely invisible. “You are not permitted to speak until we arrive.” 

Haarlep pursed their lips, hands forming some swift and unsavoury gestures to spell out their displeasure without any verbal component.

“I can see invisibility, Haarlep. Know your place.” Without further warning, Raphael transformed his body to his human guise - clothes shifting to fit the smaller frame - and walked through the portal.

—

The room was dusty and poorly kept, despite Raphael’s strict instructions - he made a note in the back of his mind to have stronger words with the diabolist maintaining his portal in what should have been the upper floors of a well kept mansion. Boxes were piled to the sides, half open and half labelled in scrawled handwriting. 

“That looks like the writing of a madman.” Haarlep’s shimmering form stood beside him, peering at one of the boxes. “Not entirely inaccurate,” Raphael ceded the point, but not without irritation. “You were, however, told explicitly to be silent.” 

“First, we have ‘arrived’, so you should be more specific if you mean another destination.” The whisper of their smirk was more audible through their tone than it was visible on their face as he felt a dull ache nagging at the back of his skull. “But that aside, this place is clearly uninhabited. There’s no risk of being discovered.”

“Must I train you in both manners and obedience?” He turned to face the warped space that concealed Haarlep’s insolent form from most onlookers. 

“Hardly necessary. Besides,” they stepped close, strong hands taking a grip of his jaw and moving his mouth with their words. “If you move those lips just right it will seem as if you’re the one talking, given how you have burdened me with your own voice.” 

Raphael swatted their hands away, fixing his hair and collar quickly as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “If I must remind you to behave once more, you will live in that outfit for your first decade. Or perhaps you would rather never leave that room, if you are so hellbent on retaining your control? I do not have to cross the threshold, nor do I have to send anyone in to sate your needs unless I choose to.” 

—

Haarlep bristled. They knew that he had power and control, that both of their deals now bound them to him with all the fine print that came with it, but they had not considered that the young and overconfident fiend would…would… 

—

Raphael faltered. He could feel the tension, the change in their demeanour in an instant. They still stood behind him wearing his body, but it now seemed like a poorer fit on them than the clothing that groaned at the seams. Even their stature seemed to shrink back in that moment, the unseen shadow of their presence retreating.

An unusual sense scratched the back of his mind. Guilt? Unthinkable. And yet… 

“I am no tyrant, incubus. Stick to your word and I shall be true to mine. But no more words for now, not until I dispel the invisibility shrouding your form.” He began to lead the way, loathe to waste any more time. Halaster could be reprimanded later for leaving the portal in such a state. 

—

It took half an hour before they reached their destination. The sun was far too bright, the incubus cursing that invisible wings could do nothing to stop the wretched beams from searing their eyes. Haarlep kept quiet for the remainder of the journey, following carefully in step behind Raphael, wings and tail tucked in so they would not catch a passer-by unawares.

For his part, the cambion acted much as a human noble might. He strolled down the streets as if he owned them and all who walked through them. Every now and then, he stopped to greet someone, to slip a note into a hand, or to show his disdain or appreciation for the quality of goods on market stalls. 

But for their own part, Haarlep was an invisible shadow. They stalked behind him with heavy steps as if their own feet fit as poorly as the boots upon them. Every now and then, they stopped with him to adjust their shirt, to rub at their head from the weight of the horns above, or to swallow back the worry that he might decide to leave them locked up to starve after all. 

The bell of the shop rang with a disgustingly joyful tinkling, crinkling their nose into a grimace. Luckily, they were able to fix their expression into something more neutral as Raphael removed the invisibility spell that kept them hidden. 

“So,” the tiefling shopkeeper peered over her glasses, “this is what all the fuss is about?”

“Uphold your bargain and you will find your competitor out of business by the end of the tenday.” Raphael replied, before gesturing towards the incubus. “They require proper clothing. Should you supply something that meets their needs, you will have my repeat business.” 

“Surely someone in one of the hells would be a more appropriate choice to dress a devil such as yourself.” She shrugged, stepping around the counter nonetheless. Her outfit, Haarlep noted, was plain but well fitted. A measuring tape was draped around her shoulders, and numerous pins were strategically held in the apron of her dress along with a couple of pouches holding scissors and threads. 

“They are not me. Which is information that will not be leaving this room, unless you particularly relish the idea of centuries in the hells as a pathetic lemure.” His voice left no room for argument, a confidence that seemed a strong contrast to the whimpering and begging mess he had been at the end of the previous night. Haarlep watched closely. They had a role as a spy to uphold, after all. 

“They look exactly like you.” The tailor walked around Haarlep now, assessing them in a way that felt far too much like their first meeting with Raphael the day before. Their tail flicked behind them, still unused to the smooth tip in place of the arrowhead shape of their own body. Their body…which now seemed more like an outfit that had been zipped up into a neat little bag and stored away in a locked closet out of their reach. But he had the key. That’s all that mattered.

“You need new glasses, they look nothing like me.” Raphael’s absurd response snapped Haarlep back out of their thoughts. He transformed swiftly into his fiendish appearance, and gestured to the incubus as the tiefling looked back and forth between the two. “See? The ruse would only fool someone who lacks insight.” 

The tiefling seemed to agree to appease him as she began to take notes on the fittings in a small book from her pocket. Haarlep, on the other hand, was stuck on his words. They were a near perfect copy, they knew that. The deal they made was important, and they had made sure to memorise his body as carefully as he had theirs…though perhaps… His eyes met theirs for a moment, a light hint of a blush behind already crimson cambion cheeks. 

—

“You should undress.” The tailor stepped back and gestured to a partitioned area of the store, as Raphael pulled his gaze from the incubus’ blazing eyes. 

He was perplexed. How did she not see the obvious differences? This wasn’t a mirror before him - not quite. He swore he could see the green in the depths of their eyes, the curve of their jaw and shape of their ears a little sharper of an angle than his own. The way they moved was certainly no copy, either… That would need some work later, he decided. The sway of their hips was decidedly too seductive-

“You didn’t tell me what you want me to make for them.” The tiefling was eyeing him over the rim of her glasses. “There was all the rush to be available immediately, but as you are unsatisfied with them wearing your own clothes I assume it is to be something different. Something bespoke.” 

“What do you think?” Raphael looked down at her, for a moment forgetting to choose his words more carefully to keep the power balance strongly in his favour.

“Clothes have a purpose, Raphael. They must not only fit the wearer, but be appropriate for the role they must fill. One who is your copy, yet is not supposed to fill your usual role? I need more information than that.” She tapped her pen on her notebook, not bothering to turn around as Haarlep stepped out from behind the screen in only the loose silken underwear he’d given them. Even those seemed like a terrible match…

“Start from the undergarments. My outer clothes will suffice for any other needs for a time.” He gestured over to the incubus standing proudly, and almost entirely naked, in the middle of the shop. 

—

“Arms out.” The tiefling was clearly unperturbed by Haarlep’s almost naked form as they followed her instruction, mildly amused at the little stepladder she had to use to reach their shoulder. Raphael had taken a seat over to one side, watching closely but mostly leaving the woman to her work.

“If he told you to work from undergarments, why do you need the measure of my arms?” They couldn’t help but feel perplexed by her choice.

“It would be a shame to cover you up, what with all these muscles,” she cast a tentative glance at Raphael for a moment though he seemed not to care in the slightest, “but clothing doesn’t just cover. The right garments can enhance what you have instead.” 

Haarlep laughed, the first genuine moment of amusement all day breaking the tension that had been eating at the back of their mind. “I assure you, I do not need any of my anatomy to be enhanced.” They licked their lips seductively and glanced down. “I can prove it, if you like~” 

“Not here, Harlot.” Raphael snapped, earning their impudent tongue-out expression as a response. “Just…work with her. Find something you would be comfortable in.” 

Their expression changed just as quickly again, switching to one of quiet contemplation. Comfort? He hadn’t been concerned with their comfort before now. Even in his sleep, it had been a fight to keep enough of the sheets to cover themselves. The contract had been business, the deal itself pleasure, and all they shared since was…confusing was about the only way they could describe it.

“What would you like? Are there any materials or styles you prefer? Or is there a particular look you wish to emulate?” The tiefling had largely ignored their quips and offer, measuring their chest and waist easily, now wrapping the tape around their hips. 

“Leather has its appeal…” Haarlep considered the options, the purpose they would have in Raphael’s deals. “Something close fitting - cover as little as you can - and it must project power.” Their eyes flashed across to their Master, as he would call his role, who remained nonplussed…aside from the momentary flick of his tail betraying a hint of the thoughts behind his calm expression.

“Is that agreeable?” The tailor turned to Raphael herself now, looking for his approval as the one purchasing the garments.

“Whatever they want. I will reserve my judgement for when I see the look complete.” Even his voice was measured and calm. “Do you have everything you need?” 

“Yes, yes. That will do.” She finished measuring their inner leg with a quick and practised motion, avoiding any intimate contact much to Haarlep’s disappointment. They were wondering if the cambion might squirm in his seat if they let themselves get a little excited by the simple touch-

“Go and get dressed again. There is more to do.” Raphael distracted them from their amused thoughts. It was hard not to roll their eyes at his tone, but they held their reaction in check for now. 

Until they could be certain, until they had proof of what he was really going to be like… They didn’t want to test their luck. Though they were sated now - the deal had been more than an adequate feast - their body still remembered hunger. Their nerves recalled too easily how they could ache if left untouched, unfed. Their heart was far too familiar with the hurt of trying to get by with nothing but their name and a bare shred of hope that they were still pretty enough to secure a meal...

And now they didn’t even have that name, nor the body they cared for so carefully to ensure they wouldn’t starve.

The clothes they pulled on behind the screen once more felt as ill-fitting as their skin, laced with those same clashing scents that Raphael wore to cover the hint of the infernal that lingered around any who travelled in and out of the hells. 

At least that was something they might be able to change.

—

Raphael paid the tailor an advance for the materials, tracking in his mind exactly which pawns he would need to move to ensure the rest of that deal was upheld. Behind him, the incubus seemed just as uncomfortable as they had been in front of the portal, when he had snapped at them. 

He sighed and rubbed at the wrinkle forming at the bridge of his nose. He would need to be more careful with how he treated the spy. It didn’t matter much what Mephisto found out from them, but if he were to be so foolish as to allow himself to spend the night naked and vulnerable with them again… A shudder crept uninvited down his spine as he cast the invisibility upon them once more. That was dangerous. Foolish. If he were to die here in the streets of Faerun it would be little more than a painful inconvenience. He would simply reappear in Avernus.

But if he were to be slain in the hells? 

He pushed the thought from his mind, resolving himself to be more careful. Haarlep must know their place, but should not be backed into a corner. They were strong, cunning, and they were likely to learn more of his own weaknesses by living in his body. 

“Before we go,” they almost startled him, unseen hand on his shoulder and voice quiet near his ear, “I should like to stop at a perfumery.” 

“And why would that be?” Raphael hissed back, pausing with his hand on the door.

“Your fragrance… It isn’t quite right. There are too many scents in there battling for dominance. You should have something complex, but not overwhelming.” Haarlep didn’t sound insulting, despite the implications of their words. 

It took barely a moment to cast Sending, projecting his voice to their mind and allowing the reply to come back to him silently from their thoughts. Perhaps conversing might be acceptable like this, especially on his own terms as he would have to initiate each part. 

—

It took a while to find a place that Haarlep approved of. Raphael even seemed willing to indulge them in a little more casual conversation as they walked, the sendings passing back and forth. In truth, the first shop might have been truly atrocious but the second was more than acceptable. Yet here they were, at the door to the fifth.

“Please tell me this one is good enough for you. I have contracts to write and precious little time to waste on further frivolous ventures.” Somehow Raphael always seemed to use up every one of the 25 words the spell allowed, his voice echoing in their head. 

For a moment, Haarlep wondered if their reply would sound like they did now, the echo of Raphael’s own deep tones filtering into his mind like his own thoughts betraying him, or perhaps… “It seems like it will suffice. As long as nobody tries to spray you as soon as you walk through the door. Again.” 

They slipped through the door behind him as he entered the shop, careful not to allow the door to remain open for a suspicious amount of time. They kept their steps light and took a good look around the place. It might not have been as substantial as the third establishment, but they were fast running out of options.

“As you are so insistent that I require something different, I suggest you tell me what the ingredients might be, Harlot. Make it quick, though.”

“Pick up the bottles I point at and hold them so I can sniff them.” Haarlep replied quickly, already pointing to a few. 

“Can I help you?” The elderly shopkeeper was watching Raphael closely, and seemed anxious in his silence.

“If I bring you several of your scents, can you make something based on those?” Raphael gestured to the shelves as he asked, earning a smile from the man behind the desk as he continued. “I will, of course, pay you handsomely should your perfume meet my exacting standards.” The flicker of his eyes towards the incubus was for them alone this time, but the perfumier seemed to already be counting his profits. 

“Yes, yes! Go ahead, I have many years of experience, I’m sure I can mix just the thing for you!” 

Without the sending to reply to, Haarlep could only gesture invisibly as needed. Several bottles were pulled from shelves and opened with dramatically wide gestures to waft the scent closer to where they stood. 

It was difficult to decide, but there had to be a balance. The cherries suited him, and something strong would have to disguise the hints of the hells that carried on his clothes and skin after travelling between planes. Something spicy too, and the blend needed an allure that could draw in a wide range of potential clients.

And, naturally, it mustn’t clash with cinnamon. 

All of this was relayed to the perfumier who made notes with impressive speed for a man of his years, selecting and rejecting several of the bottles himself. Eventually he seemed ready to mix a selection of oils into a glass flask, balancing it out with the base and blending the scents carefully. 

“Palmarosa, black pepper, cherry…” 

“The contents matter less than the result. May I?” Raphael took the bottle that was handed over, waving it dramatically through the air once more. “Ahh, interesting.” He looked over to Haarlep, finally allowing a Sending. It was not lost on them how he controlled even their private communication for now… “Well? I have no objections to this one. Quite to the contrary, it seems very fitting. I may concede that you both have adequate taste.” 

“Finally,” they began, unable to hide their frustration at being left to mime for so long. “It’s close, but it needs one more thing. Not much, but it needs some cinnamon. If I am to play your role, that is…”

“Agreed. There must be as few loose ends as possible. Our scents should match as closely as our appearance, voice…” This time he didn’t use the limit of the spell’s words. He seemed momentarily torn and distracted before he stopped pretending to sniff the bottle and handed it back to the man waiting expectantly at the counter. “A little cinnamon, and that will suffice.” 

“Of course!” The perfumier seemed delighted by the suggestion. “Warmth and spice, to balance out the bitter and cold edge, an unusual blend but it should work quite nicely, quite nicely indeed!” 

—

Several very long minutes later, the pair were back out on the street with a small bag in hand and an order left with the Perfumier to prepare a much larger batch along with some infused soaps and candles. 

The journey back to the portal was somewhat swifter and than before, but at least the time of day meant the sun was now more of a pleasant warmth than a blinding presence above. Raphael kept a swift pace, though with his human guise his stride was somewhat shorter than the incubus’ who had a far more relaxed stroll behind him.

The mansion holding the portal was just as empty as it had been before, and Raphael made a mental note to contact Blackcloak soon. The mage might have been driven mad in the past, but he was still powerful, useful, if he remembered to hold up his end of certain contracts. The cambion shuddered… Halaster had once come far too close to binding him into service. That would not stand. Neither would he allow-

Haarlep tapped his shoulder. A quick gesture and mime a reminder that they were following his instruction not to speak out loud. 

Raphael dismissed the invisibility and turned to face the incubus. They were quiet a moment longer, expression unreadable as they awaited his instruction. “The day appears to have passed us by far faster than intended.” He broke the silence first, the insignificant statement preferable to the uncomfortable stagnation of the air hanging heavily around them as if still carrying the echoes of earlier words spoken in haste. “Well, time does fly, so they say.” Haarlep shrugged, a hint of mischief tugging at their lips once more. “I always favoured the night, anyway.” 

--- --- ENDING NOTES --- --- A little more angst and plot for our dear incubus, but the night is theirs and that's where the next chapter will lead.

Keep Reading the Next Chapter Here!

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hi hiii!! :DDD Doing this bad boy to see what happens. >:333

What song are you fixated on at the moment? What lyric or verse, and why? Rule 34 and Dinner and Diatribes. I don't know. Something about the just barely masked tension in both those songs, the way they both fit so well with characters/ships/dynamics I adore, and their general energy and instrumentation SINGS to me. <3 <3 <3. I may not listen to them as often as others but they are my entire brain constantly. Favourite lines from both are: "You look so good There on your knees Such a good girl knows how to please Look at me look me in the eyes Forget yourself, surrender your mind" - Rule 34 (Mostly for the visuals and the change of voice) And "I knew it from the first look of The look of mischief in your eyes" - Dinner and Diatribes (This line sets the tone of the entire song so well, the visual is so interesting and the way it's sung is so intimate in a way I cannot describe. Literally so good.)

What is your Enneagram type? 4w5 :3.

Do you love gargantuan Youtube video essays, and if so, which is your favorite and why? I fucking love them so bad <3. I think currently the Lightlark and Nightbane ones by KrimsonRogue are really good. Just... so much content, and also writing advice, and also dying inside listening to a review of a cringe book. Literally sustains my life.

Tell me about your childhood imaginary friend. I didn't really have them in the traditional sense, but the closest things I had was imagining chatting with or interacting with characters I liked from shows, especially once I found visual novels XD. And that evolved into characters running around in my brain and now I am a writer. :P So. These bitches clawed their way into my head at age 10 and never left.

What is your go-to way to fall asleep? Rain sounds. Storm sounds. Wind sounds. Especially if they just come from outside but I also do just put them on on my computer and turn off the screen often, letting them play on the stereo. :P

If you had to change your name, what would it be, and why? (In tandem, if you have changed your name, why did you pick that one?) Names are fucking weird man. I am currently in the process of reconsidering mine, and I am starting to like the idea of something more wacky, and star themed, or snow themed. :P I don't know if I'd like it long term but Redacted and DnD have very much warmed me up to names like that lol.

What is your favorite of Redacted’s audios, and why? Why must I chose one? You're so mean. Uuuuum... Deferred Judgment methinks. It shows a lot of Vega's softness and even some selflessness, while also a bit of the risk that his mission entails and MAN- THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT WHEN IT CAME OUT WAS SO MUCH. I hated it way back when but damn... it was really good. Still is. Cannot wait to see him again. Miss him real bad.

What Redacted boy holds no appeal to you, and why? Like, not the one you hate but the one who you don’t get the hype for. (I won’t judge, I promise.) Um... Guy, Ollie, NICK. OH GODS NOT NICK. And most of the fooliverse boys besides Milo. I am not exactly the type for sweet boys. I like some of them but their chaos or overt sweetness is... too much.

Tell me about that one book/movie/tv show you know all the words to. Can't say I have gotten that obsessed with media like that sadly. I am more of a Podcast/ASMR/Audioplay/Music person buuuut... hm... I mean- does a book I'm writing count??? I have quite a bit of the words of that thing up in the noggin often. It's not done yet but :P.

Which Redacted boy are you platonically attracted to? Like- forget dating, which dude do you want to be your best friend? Oh man. Damien. He is super similar to me in his passion and his love of learning and his general personality (minus the anger, that I am less prone to.) And the other boys up on top of my list I am more queerplatonic about so. :P

Do you have a go-to thing you ramble about when you’re tired, and if so, what is it? (For example, my boyfriend knows I’m ready to sleep when I start talking about space.) Oh no I will ramble about anything at any time. <3 <3 <3. I am not well ever <3.

Tell me your go-to gas station and drink combo. Spicy or Soup chips (Salt and Vineger, Chili/Cheese, etc), often Doritos or Cheetos (or Hickery Sticks if they have them), and either mineral water or an orange Soda/Slushy. And if it's cold I often go chips, sour candy and hot cocoa <3.

Tell me about your favorite playlist at the moment.  Hozier's Unheard and Wasteland Baby. Both have songs I utterly adore.

What’s your guilty pleasure media, and why? None. I feel guilty about nothing that I consume <3 <3 <3.

And whatever else you think tells me about who you are! I am a lover of art and the arts, and am actually studying art currently for my major. I would consider myself very much Vampiric in some ways (My disconnect in the way I write/speak from a specific time period or place, humanity is familiar but also fucking weird, the sun burns, I'm dramatic and want the fashion to prove it, blood good (no I won't explain) etc.), and I am a weird philosophical bastard who likes to make characters out of vague concepts, and then explore them to their most painful depth. Also varied morality and/or moral quandaries are very important to me. Morality is a weird soup and I like to play with it. (Ironic since my own morals are so strict and fixed, and yet I love writing characters who have different ones.) Aka Evil Bitches Good. And also I am one of them (if only as a writer. Love writing cruel angst to hurt my friends and characters with <3 <3 <3.) Anyhow that's all for me for now. <3 <3 <3 (Hope this is not too obscenely long.)

Pssssst- .3. Hellooo- I submmited a matchup thing but I think I did an oopsie XD. I'm an Enneagram 5w4 but I think I flipped them. So- just saying that. If it changes anything lol- My baddd- I just noticed when thinking on it. :P

Hmm, this enneagram type is characterized as creative, intelligent, and stubborn, with something to prove to the world- which tracks as you relate to Damien. With that in mind, who else could I pair you with but Huxley?

Huxley is a kind, patient, go with the flow kind of guy but not too silly which you said you don’t vibe with. You give me the impression of an insular, cerebral person, someone with a lot of ideas and thoughts that need to be finalized and put on paper, and Huxley seems like a good partner to help with that, to be your rock (ha) and help you keep those trains of thought on track while also being vocally supportive and hyping up your work the whole time. He’s sweet to you but not so sweet he doesn’t love you and your love of villains and their fucked-up deeds.

And it’s a wonderful love Huxley gives you every day, with the sturdy support and cool shade of a great tree. When you’re studying or doing schoolwork, he’s always there bringing you water or food, massaging your shoulders if you’ve been slouching. He listens to your rambles with rapt attention and affection, retaining every detail. He is your beta reader and biggest fan. He drives you to and from school with a thermos of homemade hot chocolate because his leagues is better than the store-bought stuff, and he won’t let you forget it.

Song:

And I remember being younger and my mother told me the truth/ Find someone who grows flowers in the darkest parts of you/ Take heed when things get hard and don't you ever turn around/ You'll find someone, someday, somewhere that grows you to the clouds

I feel like this song choice needs no explanation. One, the vibes are kind of just right if you’re a Hozier fan; the folk-y, country-like longing is just what the matchmaker prescribed (the matchmaker being me). Two, it’s delightfully charming and ironic given your dislike of the sun and the pet name of Sunflower I will soon have him give you.

Runner-ups:

Cam is a fun runner-up for you because I think he, as a therapist, would have a lot to contribute to your writing and dissection of villains along with the empathy to see the depth and dimension you want to give them. Lasko is another runner-up I like given how much you relate to Damien, because Damien/Lasko has always struck me as a darling pair, two sides of the same coin.

Bonus: (For you, my one hundredth match-up~)

“Sunflower…”

“Fifteen more minutes, Hux; I’ve almost figured this out.”

“You said that forty-five minutes ago, baby,” Huxley says with a soft, warm laugh and big, warmer hands on your shoulders, gently turning your chair around. “It’s time for bed.”

“But my chapter-“ you say with a tone you won’t admit has a hint of a whine.

“Will be there tomorrow,” he interrupts, taking your hand and gently tugging you out of your chair against your weak protests. “And you’ll be able to write and edit it even better once you’ve slept.” You fall into the bed with a fwump, a deep sigh, and a muttered stream of thought falling out your lips like the air out of a balloon. The earth elemental can pick out odd, familiar words in the ramble like “heart”, “stars”, and “Vega” and chuckles as the stream peters off into slow breaths and soft snores. Huxley queues up a familiar YouTube video on the tv, a ten hour loop of light rain showers, and places a blanket over your sprawled, sleeping body.

“Good night, Sunflower,” he says softly, pressing a light kiss on the top of your head before climbing into bed beside you, turning off the light with a fond, content smile.

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[julietasgf]

re: ask game

⭐ i would love your director's commentary on the strabo fic of all time (carcará.) :D

thanks for the ask backpacks!!! <33 specially regarding what's probably my all time favorite fic I wrote:

I've commented before, but carcará is deeply personal to me because it was a way for me to try to understand and put into words some things and feels about my own father. I tried to summarize in an only story the feeling of trying to understand the pain and the struggle your own parent went through, and that they wanted to do better, but at the same time it was not enough. and one of the core messages and feelings of it is that it doesn't matter if you want to break the cycle, because a lot of times, you simply can't. and there isn't much you can do about it. some incidents of strabo's bad parenting were based on real life events

it was heavily inspired by the movie aftersun!! a lot of the themes of loss and pain and fatherhood. besides the song carcará, a horse with no name was also a song I considered for the title because I simply felt like the vibes fit. in this fanfiction, D2's imagery and vibes in my head were very much inspired by brasil's northeast and its culture (where I'm from).

I really wanted to do some scenes longer for vesta and strabo, as I loved their dynamic in it, but unfortunately the fic was getting too long. I never planned for it to get to 18k words, it was supposed to be at best an 6k work, but then I got too excited I think. I got to the point of thinking of writing an extra work just for scenes of them dating but I thought it would maybe be pointless and no one would want to read that, so I never wrote it anyway.

the fanfic was not supposed to end in that talk on the office, it was supposed to end with strabo dying poisoned by coriolanus, but unfortunately I was getting too burnout writing and deciding to end like that because it wouldn't take much writing :')

I loveddddd writing strabo's dynamic with the twins. I was heartbroken when unfortunately the scenes with the twins finished, they were so fun to write!! also, paranoid and young strabo was the funniest to write, too. the style I chose to go for his narrative was close to coriolanus' narrative, but instead it was much angrier and frustrated and bitter, I think.

sorry if these aren't much!! it's been a long time since I wrote it, and I don''t have much fresh thoughts, but I can't thank you enough for the ask <33

[soleillunne]

gemini and ursa for kazuha 👁 👁

this got so long omg but thank you for the questions!! i got carried away

Gemini - How alike are the both of you? How different are you? How do these things effect your dynamic?

How alike are the both of you?

Kazuha and I are very similar in a lot of ways. We both have a quiet strength, finding comfort in peaceful moments rather than loud displays. We value freedom, though for me, it's more about the freedom to be myself, while for him, it's about wandering and experiencing the world. We share a deep appreciation for poetry, nature, and the little details in life that others might overlook. And most of all, we understand each other without needing to say much—sometimes, a glance or a touch says more than words ever could.

How different are you?

Kazuha is more of a dreamer, someone who lets the wind carry him wherever it pleases. I, on the other hand, tend to be more grounded. I like having a place to return to, while he finds comfort in the journey itself. He’s quick to forgive, always looking at the bigger picture, while I can hold onto things for a little longer. He expresses his feelings through poetic words, while I sometimes struggle to put mine into sentences at all. But somehow, he always understands me anyway.

How do these things affect your dynamic?

I think our similarities make us feel like two halves of the same whole—we just fit together. There's a natural warmth between us, like sitting by a quiet fire on a cold night. But our differences help us grow. Kazuha reminds me not to get too caught up in my own head, to let the wind guide me now and then. And I give him a place to return to, someone to anchor him when he needs it. I think, in the end, that’s why we work so well. We balance each other without ever trying to change who the other is.

Ursa - How do you comfort each other in times of sadness or anguish? How do you heal each other?

How do you comfort each other in times of sadness or anguish?

When Kazuha is burdened by sorrow, I don’t rush him to speak. Instead, I stay close—whether that means holding his hand, resting my head against his shoulder, or simply existing in silence beside him until he’s ready to let me in. He finds solace in the quiet presence of a loved one, in the way the wind carries unspoken words. And when he does open up, I listen, not to reply, but to understand. Sometimes, I’ll hum a song he loves or guide his hands to my heart, so he knows he’s not alone.

As for me, when sadness finds me, Kazuha holds me as if I were something precious, something he refuses to let the world take from him. He whispers poetry against my skin, gentle words of comfort that feel like a warm breeze on a cold day. If I can’t find the words for my feelings, he doesn’t press—he just stays with me, reminding me that I don’t have to bear my burdens alone.

How do you heal each other?

Healing isn’t always about fixing what’s broken. With Kazuha, it’s about reminding each other that we’re allowed to feel, to grieve, to struggle. He reminds me that pain is like the wind—fleeting, ever-changing, but never permanent. And I remind him that even the strongest gusts don’t erase what we love, what we cherish.

Sometimes, healing is as simple as lying beneath the stars, hand in hand, whispering dreams and wishes into the night. Other times, it’s the small moments—Kazuha tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, or me making him tea when I notice he’s lost in thought.

We don’t heal each other by taking the pain away—we heal by carrying it together, by making sure neither of us is ever left to bear the weight alone.

[sualne]

hi i love your frame study post with luffy and zoro I was wondering can you tell me about it more it seems like alot of fun and i want to try it, like when you trace the frame is it just the silhouette sorry im not very good at drawing and this seems like a fun way to figure out dynamic poses

it is a fun a way to figure out dynamic poses!! that's why i started doing it, it's also to study animation and an easy way to warm up

the first real step is looking at a scene frame by frame on youtube with , and ; to see what's going on exactly then taking a bunch of screenshots. here i just wanted to see what was going on, there was a lot of impact frames in ep1100, lots of cool fighting choreography so i stared a lot, hadn't originally planned on redrawing anything but i was obsessed with these few frames of luffy turning.

i try to trace as loosely as i can, i change the design/body type to fit the one i draw the character with and try to guess what the parts out of frames could look like, sometime it's also fun to make an inbetween that isn't there! i try to see how "can i make it more?", like how much can i push an expression or what if i make the hair more gooey looking (because gear 5's hair is very gooey)? or wilder looking as if there was a lot more wind/movements happening (for the clothes as well)? here luffy's missing his head in the first frame because i changed it so much there was no need to bother redrawing it again, i used it directly for the lineart. beside the body i try to trace the shadows too, sometimes the effects but i don't keep them in past the tracing stage since it's not what im trying to study.

the goal isn't to draw something good but to understand why the original worked and picked your attention.

after the tracing is done you can't look at the og frame again and work from what's been traced only, this way it inevitably ends up looking different, like the shadow changing places on top of adding details for the fun of it. there's no need to redraw the same line over and over until it looks perfect, it's meant to be quick and loose. mess around, see what works and doesn't and why.

the zoro vs kamazo fight is one of my favorite because the animation really goes wild, i didn't bother with redrawing the lineart and pretty much only messed around with stronger shadows because the main goal was to redraw the dramatic angles to see how it works. it would've a been a lot better/actual study if i had redrawn the body entirely afterwards to really understand the perspective and all.

it's what i did with that 3 seconds walk, tbh one of the reason im obsessed with the song so much, i love that animation and wanted to figure out why it worked so well (i don't think the way i've reanimated it with law works the same at all but still a ton of fun to do).

[slashingdisneypasta]

I've been in a musical mood since I moved into my apartment (Seriously, there's something very satisfying about playing these Broadway songs out loud in your own living room (when my roommate left of course)), and seeing your dark Musical AU Post made me think of musical AU's for my... Oof countless ships 😅 of course you don't have to worry about answering ^^

Smarty-Pop • Phantom of the Opera AU

I have not known peace ever since you briefly mentioned their Erik/Christine dynamic in my sad Smarty-Pop ending drabble, and i mean that in a positive way XD and this gave me the perfect opportunity to explore an actual AU.

I'm thinking maybe Poppy can play a little bit of Madam Giry's role too, being the only one who knows the Phantom's secrets, the only calm one when the Phantom of the Opera strikes and possibly even delivering messages to the opera managers for Smartass. And unlike with the OG story, I like to imagine them in an already established relationship here- just, you know, a little secretive since it's the phantom we're talking about.

It's not uncommon for Poppy to go disappear down in the depths of the Opera House, whether it be through her mirror or one of the trap doors. And if one were to look through her dressing room, you could find many pink roses in various stages of wilt, and letters personally addressed to her written in the same colored ink. She claims she doesn't know who sends her them, but her dreamy smile shows more than just flattery. She leaves her own notes for Smartass as well, leaving them in loge #5 just before a show begins. Just sweet love letters only for his eyes.

No, they don't always agree. Poppy has lost track of how many times she's stormed down to Smartass' domain after something he most certainly did, and all the attention and admirers she had been gaining as her stardom rose have been dangerously grating Smartass' nerves. But at the end of each night, she is his, and he is hers. As it should be.

(Yeah this is partially me venting how i think a Christine x Phantom relationship would have turned out if it was the canon ending XD Also I'd like to point out that you said yandere Snartass might make his S/O marry him, which also correlates with the phantom trying to force Christine's hand. That is totally not going to become part of the Smarty-pop AU) thought XD

Greasypop • Dracula AU

I did struggle with Greasypop admittedly, but then I heard the song Please don't Make Me Love You from the soundtrack and I could not get this dynamic for this ship out of my head. Besides, it gives me an excuse to use the Vampire or the Monster AU XD No matter how you slice it, Dracula is pretty manipulative when you think about it. Especially with how he convinces Mina that Lucy's death was not his doing, which does fit Greasy's more manipulative nature... Not to mention that it'd be his fantasy to have as many hotties as Dracula did 😅

I'm just imagining vampire/incubus Greasy shows up into town, looking to plant his roots here for a while, and Poppy is one of his targets. Poppy can tell that something isn't quite right with him, even when he offers her comfort after she reads about yet another attack in the night. There's just something not right with Greasy.

But even so, she's having a hard time denying what he does to her. Just like how theres something about him that isn't quite right, there's something about him that makes her head feel dizzy. Something that let's his touch linger on her shoulder or arm before she snaps back to her senses. Something that makes her wish those evenings when he shows up unannounced and they wind up sharing a meal together don't end. It's like her heart is trying to give itself to Greasy, and her mind is trying to keep her grounded in reality.

It's not long before she breaks down, feeling like she's being driven mad, and just asks her friend- if he can even be called that- what he wants. She knows Greasy is not who he says he is, and she knows there has to be a reason he keeps coming back to her even though she's made it clear she doesn't want a man right now. Something tells her she doesn't want to know the truth, and yet another something tells her she wouldn't care.

But either way, no matter what, Poppy knows one thing for certain. Her heart can't take much more of this. And she didn't want it to. She doesn't want someone to come around and ruin this tranquility she's built for herself just for his own fun. So she asks, practically begs him, to just don't make her fall in love with him. Don't make her chase after him if he had no intentions of keeping her. Her instincts tell her that this is a terrible idea, that she should have slammed the door on the Spaniard long ago as she locked eyes with him.

But there was just something about him that made her love him.

(Not exactly the Dracula route I meant, I'm still working on it, but I hope it's still fun to read XD)

Peezy • Little Shop of Horrors AU

Ok ok I know this may not sound right but hear me out- Poppy x Wheezy are the most wholesome of the ships, kind of like how Audrey and Symore are wholesome. And also share the fact that Poppy/Audrey still see Wheezy/Seymore as such a good person deep down despite knowing or finding out the things they've done. Not to mention that Wheezy would treat Poppy right just like how Seymore would for Audrey.

Poppy and Wheezy work together in the same flower shop, and they both would agree that they are the high lights of each others work day. It's not exactly hidden that the two have feelings for each other- as their boss blatantly told Wheezy that he knew he thought things about the sweet girl. Though for many reasons, one of which is Poppy's horrid boyfriend Ben, they aren't together.

It was always heart-wrenching and rage inducing whenever Poppy would come in with fresh tears in her eyes, or when she would brush it off as just 'typical relationship struggles'. Wheezy has tried to just keep it to himself, and offer Poppy any comfort she needs. Though the night he got to actually see how that bastard treated her, he decided enough was enough. That bloodthirsty plant was the one who suggested it, but it's not like this wasn't a long time coming anyway.

The next morning, when Poppy is crying out of guilt rather than heartbreak, Wheezy keeps a cool head as he wraps an ashy arm around her and assures her that she shouldn't waste another second on that boy. He was never worth it, not if he couldn't appreciate what he had. Everything is alright now...

(... This was meant to be more fluffy, as fluffy as the original was, but it turned out a bit more manipulative than I intended at the end? I think? 😅 but hey, no one's gonna miss Ben either way-)

Pocho • Sweeny Todd AU

This one is special because here, Poppy is playing the role of Anthony, and Psycho Johanna. Specifically, I'm imagining the part of the play where Johanna is stuck in the asylum and Anthony is trying to break her free. Poppy in the Tiny-Tots AU is trying to set her friend and love free the second she finds out about him being locked away. Even if she has to employ the help of criminals to get him out.

Or, if we want more horror, Psycho is Sweeny, and Poppy is Lucy. Falsely accused of crimes he didn't commit just so the accuser could take his wife. Despite the fight he put up, Psycho and Poppy were separated, and she... Got hurt badly. And Psycho only finds out later when he comes back, now driven over the edge of sanity after all these years. And now, it's time for revenge.

Popshine • The Count of Monte Cristo AU

Another odd choice, I know. I almost gave this AU to Peezy in fact, but... Honestly I don't have too good of an excuse, I just want Shiny to sing Hell to Your Doorstep.

Also, just- can you imagine these girls using threads from their clothes in placement of engagement rings?? Shiny coming back years later, a shell of her former self but still being in love with Poppy despite how angry she is?? Poppy recognizing her immediately despite all that's happened and does her best to convince Shiny she still loves her???? My heart-

(Also I have a strong lesbian need to imagine Shiny in count clothes-)

Griny • Bonnie and Clyde AU

C'mon, how was this not going to be them?? Now granted, the only song I know from that musical is Buck you're going Back to Jail, but I do know the story of Bonnie and Clyde.

Shiny and Greasy would absolutely be criminal lovers on the run if it was just them. They would be such an infamous duo on the road, as they both can get mean when they need to.

(I would add more details to this, but I've been working on this ask for literal hours and I can't just save it as a draft so I'm trying to finish this 😅)

Bonus! Kingston X Poppy • Heathers AU

Ok ok ok I'm not sure if this musical would fit them honestly. Mainly because Kingston is your OC and you have broader musical knowledge than I do, so you know what would fit Kingston best. I just like the idea of Kingston singing I was Meant to Be Yours while Poppy is panicking in a closet.

What Musical would you say fits these two best, if you want to add onto this?

This is a very long ask, I apologize 😅 but I hope it's fun to read! ^^

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH OKAY

Smarty Pop Phantom of the Opera AU: I love how you set this up!! Pink roses at different stages of wilt? Poppy reading 'secret admirer' letters with a dreamy smile?? Ahhhhhhhhh

Greasy Pop Dracula AU: Ooooooh i love this.

please just dont make me fall in love with you, poppy breathes, heavy eyelids tired with life hanging heavy over her pretty eyes. Greasy's in her bedroom (vaguely she notices that he looks caught, for a moment. Eyes a smidge rounder and stock-still). She was sleeping until she had a bad feeling and woke- and saw him there. She should be terrified, she should try to run. She knows this. And yet she feels overwhelmingly calm, even with his wolf-like smile on her in the enclosed space; sleepiness from just a moment ago acting like a sedative. That, and that thing about Greasy that... always just makes everything go s l o w, around her.

(her will, her instincts to get away, her common sense, her movements... )

his smirk in the dark is definitely a warning as he straightens up, the sharp glint of his teeth making her feel a primal discomfort- almost fear.

i make no promises, hermosa. go back to sleep now. and in the morning try to resist; id like to see you try~

goodnight.

poppy watches the nightmare disappear swiftly, inhumanly gracefully, out her open window and only once he's gone- does she start to feel scared.

Peezy Little Shop of Horrors AU: I LOVE THE IDEA OF WHEEZY AND AUDREY II INTERACTING XDD I JUST KNOW IT WOULD BE GREAT XDD Also also-- Wheezy calling Ben 'boy'??? Sarah do you want me dead????? XD

Pocho Sweeney Todd AU: Ahhh, I love how you twisted this one around!! And the second one- woah XD Psycho is, of course, a great Sweeney. Plus they have kids so that works out, too (Imagine Turpin in this sent Percy away to boarding school or something, but kept Penny) I have to admit though that when I first saw the title here I thought Poppy was gonna be Joanna and Psycho was gonna be Anthony- and I thought, Rena would make a g r e a t Judge Turpin 😏 (i'm sorry, i'm thinking about rena in the turpin costume now XD the tight pants?? whoops- )

Griny Bonnie & Clyde AU: I LOVE BONNE & CLYDE I'M LISTENING TO IT RIGHT NOW. And- obviously- yes, this is absolutely perfect XD

Popshine Count of Monte Cristo AU: 🥺💕🥺💕🥺💕

(Also I'm very happy we both have the urge to put our mean bisexual oc's in periodwear XXD )

*just after they conspired to break greays outta jail*:

Seeing you mention You're Going Back To Jail though made me think XDD- who would Buck and Blanche? XDD Buck, Clydes brother who also broke outta prison and Blance, Buck's hardass wife who 's snide towards Clyde and Bonnie and sends her husband back to jail so they can one day be happy? XD My vote is for Jane Doe and Wheezy XD Can you imagine Wheezy gettin' told by his girl to turn his ass back the hell in??? 'what the hell are you talkin' about!??' *audible panic in his tone*

Bye, baby~

See you soon, sugar~

Kingston and Poppy Heathers AU: Oooooh, I could totally see this in the Highschool AU! XD

Hmmmmm, which musical AU should I go dor with King and Poppy... I donno, but I'm thinkin a Beetlejuice AU for Poppy and Rena XD Poppy is Adam (Or Lydia more like. But like grown adult Lydia who gets just as uncomfy as Adam does.), of course, and Rena is BJ XDDD Rena is such a gross femme fatale XD

I think we're a perfect fit, lets make out a bit-

Bigger, further, harder-

C'mon, drop your panties, I'm trynna fill you with wisdom and skill and the instinct to kill-

Gotta haunt til it hurts through the night~

etc

[cto10121]

R&J Clown Takes Special Edition (+ Shakespeare Clownery)—My & Juliet Angst Is Killing Me

The Folgers alas stooped to interviewing the ~geniuses behind the jukebox musical & Juliet, and so of course they got to air out both their R&J and their Shakespeare clownery for the whole Internet, the finest meat for my clown-eatery. We feast tonight! Spoilers, of course

R&J Hate Dumb

Romeo is many things, but shallow isn’t one of them. If he or Juliet were, their love affair would have been over when they first found out they were each other’s enemy. There is only one thing shallow about Shakespeare’s play and that is Veronian society itself, deliberately depicted as such.

These knuckleheads then go on to reference Romeo bro-ing with his bros as “proof” of this. Never mind that Mercutio and Benvolio weren’t supposed to know about R&J’s relationship, no one could, so Romeo getting them off his tail and being normal can be in no way performative. Juliet has her Nurse on the know so she doesn’t have to perform either. And again, she has to make sure her parents aren’t on her tail. Even then, though, she makes sure not to lie (technically).

The only point where either Romeo and Juliet can be said to be in any way performative is Romeo’s “love” for Rosaline and Juliet having to come up with a diplomatic response to her mother and nurse on the question of marriage.

“Older pair of lovers” with “Teenage Dream” with nightingale and lark rip-off…it’s giving unintentional parody. It’s giving “no thoughts, head empty.”

Romeo “I killed myself for my true love and honored my rival’s dying request to be lain with her because of course that is perfectly logical to me” Montague, an ego?????? This is arguably worse than Fey!Romeo. What is with modern musicals and their insistence that every single male love interest/character be a huge egotistical dick?

Shakespeare Hate Dumb

Because of course a small town 16th century SAHM who ran a merchant house and stored 800 bushels of malt for ale would be more ~progressive about gender and social issues than a classics-educated theater actor and writer who traveled England and wrote genderbending social comedies and whose sonnets are frequently interpreted as bierotic. Because men smart, woman smarter, always!!! No thoughts, head empty!!!!

Die (Reprise, andante con grande emozione).

Also, Something Rotten called, they’re suing you for copyright infrigement. Is this Shakespeare going to complain about how it’s hard to be the bard too? Seriously, wtf?

Okay, so Tumblr won’t let me add in another screenshot, but I have to talk about the fact that these numbskulls straight up confessed they wanted to do a Max Martin musical (per producer diktat) and came up with the R&J plot afterward because, and I kid you not…most of Martin’s songs are about young teen love. 😑 Yeah, dude, like 95% of all pop music ever since the Beatles.

Also, also, not all songs about young teen love necessarily fit R&J!!! From what I can tell, the songs they chose have little to no relevance to the characters or dynamic at all, hence this new fanfic plot. And judging by the excerpts, I don’t think they even bothered changing the lyrics to fit the new context. They really should have just changed the names à la West Side Story, but they definitely knew the show wouldn’t have sold as well without the tie-in. It just pisses me off, this consistent disrespect for the source material all the while exploiting it for profit.

Bonus: Very ~Apropos Song Lyrics

Because of course these lyrics about a breakup completely fit a girl who just found her love dead beside her, having committed suicide. 🙃 No thoughts, head empty