#but. consider. i really really want to. i love quilting so much it's such a beautiful art..... it would be nice to have something

[intertexts]

i sgould get really into quiltin.g.

[ink-through-her-veins]

As with all momentous things, it began slowly. A sleep tunic and a change of clothes, became a drawer of Merlin’s clothes in Arthur’s wardrobe. Then a book on one of the nightstands turned into the entire thing becoming Merlin’s tiny library because he needed choices when it came to bedtime reading. And half of Arthur’s wardrobe was crammed with Merlin’s clothes, and the quilt his mother made laid over the foot of the bed that Arthur called their’s, and there was enough dust in the room that used to be Merlin’s for it to be considered well and truly abandoned.

Until…

“I cannot fucking believe you!” Merlin shouted, slamming open the door, and striding through it without a care in the world if said door ricocheted back to hit Arthur in the face.

Which it would have if Arthur weren’t trained since birth to have cat-like reflexes. He caught the door, glared at it, and seethed. He flopped down in chair, pinched the bridge of his nose, and waited for Merlin to calm himself.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Arthur closed his eyes against the pounding in his head. He had plenty to say, none of which would make Merlin any less upset. So he sat in silence until he couldn’t bear the curiosity of what Merlin was doing to make so much noise. He turned, and his heart stopped. In Merlin’s hand was his rucksack that usually hung on a hook beside the wardrobe, and was now full of Merlin’s clothes, and books, and—he’d even packed the fucking quilt.

“No.” Arthur stood, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. No.”

“What?”

“You. This. Whatever idiocy you’re thinking, no.”

“I’m going to my room, Arthur, where I can be away from whatever idiocy you’re thinking.”

“This is your room,” Arthur said slowly, and deliberately so the words could sink in through Merlin’s thick skull. “Do you not think it strange that you have to pack to go to your room? That all your things are here, and you haven’t slept in that tiny closet for months? You don’t just move out because you’re upset with me. You call me an idiot, and turn your head when I try to kiss you, and if I’ve really pissed you off—“

“You have,” Merlin interjected.

“Then you throw my pillow onto a chair and make me sleep in it!” Arthur shouted, and then bit his lip, trying to hold back the sudden rush of tears. Maybe Merlin was more than upset. Maybe…fuck. He sniffled, and softly added, “But you don’t walk out unless you stop loving me.”

Merlin’s rucksack dropped to the floor. “I didn’t—Of course, I love you. I didn’t realize. I just thought…”

“What? That I let all my servants claim my space, and half my bed?”

“Well I hadn’t thought we’d officially moved in together,” Merlin admitted sheepishly.

“We have. Months ago. You live here. I’m a prat. You’re all caught up now.”

And if Merlin wanted to linger in the argument before, he didn’t anymore. He didn’t even really want an apology for Arthur’s pigheadedness, but he got one kissed into his neck, and his lips, and his hair.

(Arthur’s the idiot in modern times here)

[strawberrygummiess]

pink in the night.

malleus x gender neutral! reader 1k words cross posted on ao3 "At one point, Malleus believed he woke up to see the night sky. But now he was convinced he woke up to see you."

 Malleus believes he wakes up to see the stars.

The night sky was truly a gift from Mother Nature herself. She throws a blanket of darkness over the scenery of Night Raven College, with speckles of starlight peeking through, almost like a homemade, crocheted quilt. She tucks in her children with chaste kisses of the night breeze and leaves a little moonlight to ease their fears of the unknown. It was a tranquil showcase of her love for the world and Malleus couldn’t help but mischievously sneak out of bed to see the beauty in her work.

"Ever the poet," Lilia would always remark. Malleus never really agreed. The poetry wrote itself; he only verbalized what he saw. He wasn’t the creative type, he decided. It wasn’t that he sought and found beauty in unconventional places, like a certain Pomefiore Vice Houswarden, it’s only that he recognized what was clearly in front of him. Although, the presence of the Ramshackle Prefect made him consider singing sonnets from the rooftops.

You had been a surprise for him on his nightly walks. He had come to expect the usual landmarks on campus, broken up by the occasional scurrying creature. But you- you were something completely unexpected. A new student, naively curious. Kind, warm, fearless. You were ignorant of who he was; being from another world (how lucky for him!) left him with endless possibilities. With you, he was no longer Malleus Draconia, the crown prince of Briar Valley, and one of the most powerful mages in the world. He was-

“Tsunotarou! Or Hornton. Your choice… never mind, I’ll just use both.”

Malleus replayed that night over and over. How could he not? This was it. A friend. He wasn’t being presumptuous, it was you who gave him a nickname (not that you had a choice of course, but you gave him two) you who joined him on his walks, you who listened to his rambles, you, you. Clearly, you wanted to befriend him. Who else would be this forward?

At one point, Malleus believed he woke up to see the night sky. But now he was convinced he woke up to see you.

This was the conclusion he came to after tonight’s walk with you. You led the conversation this time. You spoke about the adventures you were dragged into; your frustrations with your feline companion and Headmaster Crowley; and how much you enjoyed the night walks with him.

Wait, what?

“Tsunotarou? Hello?” You dragged out the “o” in an endearingly casual manner, stepping in front of him as you tried to ground him back into the moment.

“You in there? Were you listening to me?” You teased, crossing your arms and smiling. You tilted your head to the side as you tried to read his face. He felt entirely exposed; like you could hear his beating heart and see how enamored he was by you. You, however, wished he’d give you a clue about how he was feeling.

“Of course I was, Child of Man,” He responded calmly. He hoped his butterfly-filled stomach didn’t betray his voice. Your favorite part of the day was the walks with him. He’d never been so ecstatic. “I always listen to you,”

You don’t say anything. You continue smiling and narrow your eyes, still looking for something else. Your expression mirrors one Lilia would use before he scolded him. Were you truly mad at him? He could (and would, if you asked) recall everything you said in the past half hour. He would prove that he was listening, deserving of your presence, a good friend- more if you let him. Malleus would literally move mountains if you asked.

“Hey! You’re doing it again, Hornton. Get out of your head.”

Your touch is electrifying. It almost burns. He hears you exclaim about “how cold” his skin is, but only vaguely. What he did notice, was how your hand was holding his face. A concerned look replaced your teasing smile as you studied him. You mumbled again about how cold he was, and pressed your other hand to his forehead, brushing under his bangs.

“If you were sick, why did you walk over here? Now you’ve made it worse!” You scolded, bringing him closer to your height as you gently rubbed his cheeks, attempting to warm him up. “At this rate, you’ll freeze. I mean seriously, you’re as cold as ice!”

Malleus had half a mind to tell you that he was completely fine. He wasn’t sick at all, fae just ran a bit cold. Colder than what a human could stand. Yet he decided to entertain your doting, smiling slightly.

“I apologize, Child of Man. I didn’t want to ruin your favorite part of the day. Do forgive me,” It was his turn to tease. Just a little. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge in your attention. You click your tongue, before releasing his head and declaring the walk “over”. Pity. He was hoping you’d hold him for a bit longer. He usually wasn’t very tolerant of the heat, but he was happy to withstand it if it meant you held him longer.

“C’mon Tsunotarou,” You announce, walking back in the direction you came. “We gotta go back to my dorm. I’ll wrap you in a blanket burrito and feed you some tuna soup…” you cringe. “It tastes better than it sounds, promise.” You clarify, before decisively grabbing his hand and gently tugging him forward.

He listens to you explain different ways you’ve learned to transform canned tuna because of Grim, to varying success. You once again reassure him that the soup is one of the better creations, before continuing your rant about “missing regular meat,” and “tuna isn’t even the best fish!” but at this point, Malleus can only focus on the warm grip of your hand on his and the constant hammering of his heart.

Oh, the poems he’d write about you. They’d feature tales of fish and ice, comparisons to the peace of the night, and love letters from the starry sky. But really, he wouldn’t be doing much work. He only verbalized the beauty he saw, after all.

[baronessvonglitter]

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 2

Rom Com AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring nightclub owner! Javier Peña)

Word count: 1,736

Summary: After reflecting on the ups and (mostly) downs of your relationship with Javier, you make a decision about your future.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit for allusions to smut. Mention of selling drugs (Javi). Mentions of past infidelities (Javi again). Mention of illegal activities going on in Javi's club. Threats towards Javier. Basically Javier Pena is a walking red flag but reader was in love.

Author's note: this is basically just backstory on how reader and Javi got together. Dave makes an appearance at the end. Also, big love to everyone who's taken the time to read/reblog, or leave a nice little comment. 💜

Series Masterlist

I told you so.

That's the phrase booming through every thought in your brain as you try to come to terms with Javi's infidelity.

And it wasn't even the first time. You could kick yourself for being so trusting and so blind.

From the moment you'd met Javier Pena, who sold drugs to your friends behind the football field bleachers during your senior year of high school, you'd fallen for his bad boy persona. Motorcycle, leather jacket, aviators, cigarette resting between pouty lips, perfectly groomed mustache. He looked like the saxophone solo from "Careless Whisper".

He'd graduated six years ahead of you, and still came around campus, a legend in his own mind. That should have been your first red flag.

But out of all the girls who flirted with him, you were the one he wanted.

He'd whisked you away on his motorcycle, bringing you home so late that your parents forbade you from seeing him. But nothing could stop true love, that's what you had with him. Javier saw you, made you feel seen. He listened to you, big brown eyes studying your every feature, compelling you to kiss him, to do things you ordinarily wouldn't have.

You were engaged right after you graduated, much to the consternation of your family. But when your engagement seemed to go on and on without an actual wedding date in sight, you had your doubts that he really wanted to marry you.

After giving him an ultimatum which led to Javi telling you he wanted to wait another few years to actually tie the knot, you'd separated from him, giving back his ring, crying yourself to sleep as your mom or your sister would make their best attempts at soothing you. Seeing him with other girls - a different one riding behind him on his motorcycle each time - during those separations only further broke your heart. You found out you weren't so special after all.

But he always came back, always smooth talked his way to your too-good heart. And you let him back in, grateful for his kisses again, grateful for the way his body molded to yours, the splay of his hands across your hips as he bent you over and fucked his way back into your life.

The wedding, when it finally happened, went by in such a blur-- the two of you at the county courthouse, Javi in his best suit, bolo tie and new shiny boots, you in a simple lacy white dress you'd found at a consignment store, tailored to your measurements, and flowers in your hair. Javi had whjisked you away right after the ceremony, unceremoniously fucking you in the backseat of your car.

You'd always wanted kids, your maternal instinct going haywire any time any of your friends announced they were pregnant. You'd run your fingers longingly along the wooden cribs and quilted blankets on display at Target. It felt like the end of the world when Javi admitted he couldn't give you any children. His 'family visit to South Texas' just a couple months after your marriage was actually him recuperating after his vasectomy. You'd nearly left him then, deeply hurt by his secrecy and betrayal, but considered that you could make him change his mind one day, and he'd have it reversed.

A married man, he wanted to rely on steady income to support you besides selling weed and adderall to high schoolers. One thing he was good at was showing people a good time. He had his heart set on opening a strip club, but when you vehemently refused to stay married to him if he did just that, he set his sights on the next best thing and bought out an old roller rink with the help of his lifelong buddy Steve Murphy and renovated it into a nightclub.

His purchase of the club drained any savings you'd amassed in the first few years of your marriage, and you only saw a return on the investment once he'd promoted every night, made deals with shady people, allowed a few illegal gambling, drug, and prostitution outfits to operate within the walls of his new sanctuary. You looked the other way, only able to stomach the idea of being okay with it when Javi offered to buy you your own small business.

All your life you loved two things: baking and literature. Fresh croissants over the latest Janet Evanovich, homemade chocolates and The Great Gatsby. Ever the businessman, Javi talked you into creating your own business, gifting you the seed money to open Fiction & Frosting more expeditiously than you were comfortable with, mainly because you knew just where the funds for your business were coming from.

Planning and decorating had been the fun part to get you away from that thinking. You made the place your own, with your stylistic touches and smooth melodies to play over the ambience. You handpicked the titles that went into your store, including New York Times bestsellers along with lesser known authors and self-published works. Meet and greets were held, helping to gain traction when well-known authors were brought in to do press for their latest releases and for up and coming writers to display their own works.

You were proud of your own business, and eventually made enough money to pay Javier back for his investment. But even though your conscience was clean, your problems weren't necessarily over.

With Javi at the club most nights, you were lonely. It would be near dawn when he'd come home, stinking of cigarettes and alcohol, and, occasionally, another woman's perfume. And still he'd curl up next to you, kissing your neck as if nothing was wrong, spooning you so you could feel his bulging erection through your pajamas.

You'd stayed away, hoping to keep separate the Javi you loved and the Javi you knew had a business to maintain. But one night in particular your curiosity got the best of you and you found yourself driving to the club close to closing time.

The interior, tacky red and orange lighting that gave you the feeling of entering Hell, glowed with an intimidating glare as you looked around for your husband. Music blared from the DJ booth. The bartender on duty gave you vague answers as to Javi's whereabouts, but Steve was there, nursing a glass of Stoli. He coolly informed you Javi was in his office, and you chose to ignore the wry little smile on his face.

The closer you got to his office in the back, the more muffled the music got. But that only served to make louder the pounding of your heart, booming in your ears.

Seeing him at his desk with a woman on her knees, bobbing her head up and down enthusiastically was not what you expected to find. You immediately ran away, tears streaming down your face as you went out the back alley, slumped against the wall, defeated and heartbroken. When Javi found you, apologizing and telling you she didn't mean anything to him, you pushed him away, cursed him, wanted to kill him.

But Javi was Javi, and despite the way he broke your heart so many times, you couldn't make yourself stop loving him. And so you made the choice to believe him, to hug him, to keep from leaving him.

You think about that night now that you're actually leaving him.

Like a bird with a broken wing you go straight to your parents' house, and they invite you in without a second thought, holding in their own 'I told you so's' until you repudiate Javier yourself, recounting every time he 'interviewed' for bottle girls, groped a waitress, or lied about any little thing. You shine the light on his villainy, and in your hurt and angst, it feels good. You leave out the parts about the illegal activities.. it's already too much to tell them of his more hurtful iniquities.

"He never deserved you, sweetheart, I knew it from the beginning," your father says to comfort you.

"He made a pass at me last Thanksgiving," your younger sister says.

"He made a pass at me on Mother's Day," your mom says.

You shake your head, hating everything that you're hearing. But you force yourself to face the facts you've been avoiding for so long.

Your dad and brother go with you to get your things, providing a buffer between you and Javier, who's begging you to come back. He looks bedraggled, unshaven and unkempt, so unlike the put-together man you've come to know. You don't have the heart to meet his eyes, only gaining some satisfaction when your brother shields you from him while your dad helps carry your stuff out to his truck. It's the only bright spot in your day when they threaten to beat the ever-loving shit out of him if he dares to come near you again. You've never seen Javier scared until that moment.

You're so strong, your family commends you as you as you find a small place to rent, making your split official.

Your first night alone, after your sister has left and you're tidying up, putting away the washed wine glasses, you remember Dave.

In all the hubbub of the messy end of your marriage, you think of the divorce attorney, and you grab his card from your purse.

David L. York, Divorce & Family Law

The next morning you call and are put through to his direct line. Hearing his voice over the phone, so professional and yet warm, brings you back to that day you met him, and you feel a sensation of butterflies in your stomach.

"It's me," you give him your name and he remembers you immediately, bringing a smile to your face for the first time in days.

"I've been by a few times for coffee but I haven't seen you there," he says with some concern, and the butterflies multiply when you realize he'd actually sought you out.

"I've been busy," you make a lame excuse. "And not feeling very well."

"Oh," he replies. "Which is it? Busy or not feeling well?" he teases.

"Considering what I'm about to tell you.. both."

"What's going on? What can I do for you?" he asks, as if he'd do anything at all you ask.

"Oh, I heard you handle divorces. And I'd like to hire you to do mine."

dividers by @strangergraphics & @saradika-graphics 👑

taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@darkheartgatita @speaktothehandpeasants @rav3n-pascal22

@vickie5446 @eviispunk @mrs-pedro-pascal @zascal

@sunnytuliptime @mysticsuitcasealmondwombat @joelmillerisapunk

@almostfoxglove @itwasntimethatdidit40 @604to647

@milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 25. fuck party

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “merry christmas”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ the ministry is all decorated in festive decor and it truly feels like the holidays are in season! now… what do these ghouls want to do with you?

pairing: era iv nameless ghouls x gn!reader

a/n: first off i just want to apologize for the last few days being so late. i really did try my best to make sure that each day had a good fic. this is the only fic that doesn’t really follow the prompt, but i tried my best. consider this fic a nice little letter for the start of 2024. happy new year, and please enjoy !!!

cw: slight nsfw content. horny ghouls. poly ghouls. implied orgy near the end. there’s nothing nsfw that really happens, just mentioned.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

“we want to make this holiday special, dear. come on down to the nave of the ministry… you won’t be disappointed. merry christmas, sweetheart~” —❤︎

┅✦┅

the entire month has been a rollercoaster of emotions. each day you felt like something wild and absolutely ecstatic happens to you every day. it has only made your holiday season more and more interesting.

and now here you were, all cozied and nestled in your room, the scent of roasted chestnuts and currier ives lingering in the air. you sat atop your wooly quilt, with eight different letters in hand.

the slips were underneath your door when you came back from a long shift of working in the ministry. they were all decorated and colored differently, each envelope having its own unique flair and personality to it. you didn’t even have to read the names to know who’s was who.

smiling to yourself, you opened each letter one by one, excited to read what’s inside.

—

you had started off with the shiny white envelope. it was decorated in cute stationary stickers and the front was written in a glittery pink pen. at the bottom left corner of the envelope was a pink laced ribbon tied neatly with your name on it. if there was anyone that loved colors more than the entire human population, it was your favorite colorful ghoulette.

“aurora’s letter of thanks”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ to my dear y/n,

hello my darling! i hope this letter reaches you well, because i know how the others can get at times~ happy holidays, my love. i know that this month has been busy for you because of the constant yule traditions, but i’m delighted that you were able to make some time for me and that we could make gingerbread houses together like usual! and i gotta say… your tongue skills never fail to impress me~ you made me come so hard i swore i was going to pass out!! but really though… thanks for being such a sweetie to me, the ministry really doesn’t deserve you. i hope to see you soon for our little surprise~

with lots of love,

aurora ghoulette

—

the next envelope was colored in a dreamy grey, with cute hearts inked in pen on the cover, it gave off a much more serene and calm vibe compared to the vibrant letter of aurora’s. at the back was a little pocket that contained a written song. after careful observing, you had determined it belonged to an infamous air ghoulette. oh what a songbird she was.

“cumulus’ dreamy songbird”

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫༄ؘ hello darling ♡︎

what a beautiful winter night, is it not? i often like to be in touch with nature when i’m writing, helps me keep my mind at center. how have you been, darling? i hope you’ve been better after our little passionate night in bed. you were so cute with how you were eagerly trying to get my lingerie off… it was charming, really. though, putting the promiscuity aside, i just want to really want to send this love letter to you as a token of my thanks. you’re my little songbird, and you inspire me to do better, whether it’s songwriting or performing. so as a token of my gratitude.. i’ve prepared a … special song for you. i hope you like it. anyways… come see me later, i’ll sing it.. specially for you~ i love you, dove, and i wish you a happy new year ♡︎♡︎♡︎

your dearest,

cumulus ghoulette

—

the texture of the next letter was earthy and coarse, but it emitted the soft aroma of fresh pine leaves. it seems that this letter was specially crafted personally for you. just from the scent and touch alone, you smiled to yourself knowing it came from a certain earth ghoul. upon opening it, there was a little sunflower necklace attached to the sand paper letter.

“mountain’s delighted memories”

*:..｡o○ to y/n,

hope you’re doing well, and that this year has been treating you well. i appreciate you approaching me that night… and throwing me into the passions of bed. i gotta say, those faces you made when i came deep inside of you, filling you up with me seed, it still gets me going. just being honest here. the reason i’m bringing this up is well… i want to make more memories like that with you. ones that we can share together, and make ourselves feel like we’re ascending to the heavens we can’t reach. you’re really someone that makes me want to just go all out, and in many ways. which is why my gift to you this year.. is going to be imprinted into your mind for eons to come. so, if you want to find more… stop by soon please, i’ll be waiting. ‘till then, have a good christmas.

from your love,

mountain ghoul

—

this paper was crumpled and slightly torn. it looked like it was made in a rush, but it held a certain charm to it. there were little trinkets and treats attached to the letter, all of which had a cute homemade vibe to it. the faded streaks of purple pen gave away who it belonged to, and you couldn’t be more happy when a certain bug came to mind.

“phantom’s sweet treats”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ hi y/n!

i missed you :(( and i know that we live in the same ministry, but you’re so busy and i barely get to see you! which is why i dragged you out to ‘look for a christmas tree’ with me. i gotta say, i was nervous… but seeing how you reacted when i pounded you against that tree.. satanas, still sends shivers down my spine. after that night, i just can’t stop thinking about you. the way you reacted to my touch, oh it was so good. i put together some handmade goodies for you, hope you like them. think of it as my way of saying thanks for a good night :) on that note, i’m sure the other letters have talked about meeting in a special place. i’ll be there, and i’ll be sure to give you all of my attention <3

love,

phantom ghoul

—

closing the envelope shut, you grabbed the next one. lipstick marks stained the paper perfectly, imprinting kisses everywhere. looking at the particular shade of red of the lipstick, you instantly thought of a certain keyboardist. there was a soft pink rose attached underneath the slip, and you opened the envelope with ease.

“cirrus’ gratitude”

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤ evening darling,

i take that christmas has been well for you, huh? it certainly seems like it has been, considering how you were with me during that night in the log cabin ;)) we have to do that more often, sweetheart. you were so cute, with how your face was squished up against the window while i went to town on you… oh, still gets me wet, i can’t lie. it’s one of my favorite memories this season, and for that, i thank you. thanks for being such a delightful and loving partner. you’re honestly a saving grace for me, and you always make me feel good, both in and out of the bedroom. honestly, i’ve never met someone as good in bed as you are. so, as a token of my gratitude, i want you to meet me with the other ghouls tonight. it’ll be fun sweetheart, i promise.

from your dearest,

cirrus ghoulette ❤︎

—

looking at the next letter with intrigue, you were greeted with a faint smell of cologne, the scent of it was soft and reminded you of the beach. laced over the envelope was a red ribbon with seashells and shark tooth carved trinkets at the end. what a gorgeous sight. you opened it, and smiled upon recognizing the stunning calligraphy ingrained on the paper.

“rain’s poem”

｡･ﾟﾟ･ dear y/n,

having a good christmas? you better be, otherwise i’ll make sure you are. but for real though, i’m sure this year has been great for you. i would also like to thank you for.. ‘helping’ me with my own personal gift. you looked so goddamn good tied up in my bed like that. i’ll admit, i got carried away with my words, but i know damn well you were into me treating you like my bitch while i dicked you down on the mattress. though, that made me realize how much you love my honeyed words, so i’ll use this opportunity to praise instead to degrade. y/n, you’re an absolute starlight in my life, a treasure like no other. i’d move the heavens and pits for you. it’s cheesy, but it’s true, and i promise to show you how much i love you in any way i can. come by soon ❦

from your favorite water boy,

rain ghoul

—

the next letter had an ashy and brazened texture, but it shone with a brimstone-like layer to it. the paper was slightly calloused, and there was a fiery flair to it that could only be from one infamous firecracker you knew of. popping off the sloppily made wax seal, you opened it to find an equally burnt letter, but the sight made you smile.

“sodo’s confessions”

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒 to my y/n,

i’d ask you how you’re doing n’ shit, but i’m not good with words, or greetings nonetheless. so to get things out of the way, i’m going to be as straightforward as possible. y/n, i want to fuck you so badly this christmas right now. that night we shared, in my bedroom, fuck that was so hot. i loved the way you reacted every time i brought the candle wax down on your body. you looked so goddamn sexy covered in all of that… and the memory still makes my dick so hard. call me a pervert or whatever, but i’m proud to be one for you. i can’t help myself when i’m around you. your body, your scent, everything, it drives me fucking insane. don’t tell the other ghouls, but you’re my favorite, and i really can’t figure out why… guess i’m just so drawn to you. at midnight, when you meet the others, i’ll be sure to let them know who can make you feel the best in bed. and that’s not a threat, that’s a fucking promise. but ‘till then, i’ll be waiting for you, sweet thing

i love you,

sodo ghoul

—

the final letter had a reddish stain on it. bringing it closer to your nose, you got a faint whiff of red whine from the stain. the designs on the letter were intricate and creative, but there was a suave and sultry feel to this letter. if there was any infernal who knew how to be smooth, it was a certain multi ghoul with the voice of an angel.

“swiss’ invitation”

❤︎*♡∞:｡.｡ to my love,

welcome, darling~ i know how much you like the smell of wine, so i indulged you a bit in my envelope for you. merry christmas, and thank you for being such a passionate lover. gotta say, bunny, you looked so cute that one night when you were sitting on my cock. the way your rosy cheeks just got more pink every time you looked at me, desperate to stay warm… ooh, that’s what you call hot. good to know that i was able to keep you warm during that snowy night, and i got to get my dick wet too. so it was a win/win situation for the two of us, dear~ but all jokes aside, i had come up with the plan to treat my favorite sibling of sin to some… fun this season. i conspired with all of the other ghouls and ghoulettes to help me, and i’m sure they all mentioned in their letters that they want to meet up with you too. we want to make this holiday special, dear. come on down to the nave of the ministry… you won’t be disappointed. merry christmas, sweetheart~

forever yours,

swiss ghoul

—

folding all the letters neatly and piling them on your desk, you smirked to yourself, and got up from the bed to start walking over to the nave of the church. each step carried your eager body closer to a lustful, passionate and loving location.

whatever your lovers were planning… you knew it was going to be a good one.

eyeing up the tall, church doors, you pushed them open to be met with a glorious sight.

the moonlight streamed through the glass panes windows of the dimly lit nave. candles aligned everywhere with ribbons decorating every corner and crevice. but the best sight of all… were the infamous nameless ghouls themselves.

they were all dressed for the occasion, all dolled up to your liking. the ghoulettes were in matching lingerie, but in different colors. aurora in a rose gold, cumulus in white and cirrus in black. they all huddled together and perked up upon seeing you. you looked to the other side to see another group of ghouls. rain’s expression was neutral, but there was a promiscuous glint in his eyes as the red ribbon twirled between his fingers. sodo’s expression was as hungry as ever, eyeing like a piece of candy while holding onto a candle. phantom looked excited, but jittery, claws digging into his seat, and mountain looked as calm and collected as ever, albeit, not minding the little problem in his pants.

from the center, swiss emerged, and he looked down at you with a wicked, yet lustful grin. his tail flicked about to the side, and you looked up at him with curious eyes, chuckling, his long fingers traced around your jaw and gently clasped around it while craning your head up, making you look at him.

he smiled at you,

and in return you smiled.

“merry christmas, y/n.” he spoke suavely, his words still as honeyed as ever.

he then stepped behind you, gently massaging your shoulders and holding onto you. with a snap of his fingers, the ghouls and ghoulettes giggled and approached closer to you, lust on their minds.

oh

this would certainly be a christmas to remember~

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

[boneblushed]

But on a Wednesday, in a cafe

muggle!au, James x fem!reader, I’m going through a really tough break up right now so writing this = therapy

I’ve been spending the last eight months / Thinking all love ever does / Is break, and burn, and end

Perhaps you should be used to it by now, this never-ending chasm of pain that begins and ends at the base of your ribcage.

It’s a deep, aching hurt, the kind that promises to linger until you’re forced to surrender. A draught of cool air pulls through your chest, alerting you to the tired heart squeezed within it. Every time you think about him—about the life you shared—it breaks and splinters, rocketing another of its shards into the surrounding structures. A dreadful pang.

Who knew love could hurt this much?

It’s taken a while for your heart to look the way it does. A few weeks ago, it was held within your shaking palms, wrung through with desperation as you begged him to return. Here… take it, please? It belongs to you… it’ll always be yours.

Prior to that, when the aching wounds were still fresh, you wove bandages from hopeful ignorance, fastened them with blind faith. No, love couldn’t possibly be as fickle as he was making it out to be; you couldn’t let yourself believe it was, you’d simply have to bide your time until he came to his senses.

Until he told you how wrong he was, how much he didn’t mean any of it. Of course I didn’t fall out of love with you, of course that can’t just happen; I love you, I’m sorry, forgive me?

And pathetic as your broken heart is, you would be ready to do so, no matter the stakes.

It makes you stomach roil as you think back on it now — the power he had over you, how callously he wielded it every time you spoke. Has. Present tense. The fissure deepens.

It’s terrifying, how quickly your world can shrink into nothingness. Once upon a time, you’d considered him your soul-mate—your person—and now it’s as though the pair of you are strangers, even less than.

It’s true what they say, indifference pierces deeper than hatred. After all that you’ve been through with him, all that you’ve shared, how are you supposed to simply move on and find love elsewhere?

The cobblestone path you walk along is well versed with your rumination. A quilt of autumn foliage crunches underfoot, a petrichor rich scent present in the air. Every shop window you pass boasts Thanksgiving deals that you ‘just don’t want to miss!’; it’s nauseating as much as it is heart-breaking, having to do the holidays without him for the first time in six years.

It’s probably pity more than it is fate that leads you to the new cafe in Godric’s Hollow — you’ve shed far too many tears for the Universe to bear, plagued with motion sickness from how quickly your sadness turns yearning again.

You miss him. It’s right there in your eyes, how much you miss him. James’ on barista duty whilst his colleague Remus mans the register; the latter may discern the melancholy in your features, but it’s James who recognises the exact significance of it.

He’s been through it before, you see, with Lily Evans. His gaze softens, dappled brown eyes falling over you in paces, and he wracks his brains for things he’d have wanted when he was going through the worst of it.

Except, the one thing he wanted no one could realistically give him — Lily. Who’s your mystery boy? Is it truly as over as your eyes say it is?

“Uh, hey,” you greet. Your voice doesn’t crack as much as it’s barely loud enough to register.

“Hey,” Remus responds, sending you a small smile. Playing it cool whilst his knee nudges James’ under the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“Just an iced latte please,” you answer. “With oat milk, if you have it.”

Remus punches in your order as you reach for your wallet. The cappuccino James’ making overflows.

“Shit!” He curses, jerking back his hand hastily, the skin scalded. Droplets of burnt coffee fly onto the machine as he shakes them off.

You startle, turning to look at him. “You alright?”

“Coffee’s on us,” James replies, reaching over Remus to cancel the order. His peripheral vision catches the incredulous look he sends him, but he thinks it a disservice to look away from you in this moment. The melancholy in your eyes ebbs a little. James’ heart soars.

“Really?” You ask, your voice a little louder now.

“Oh yeah,” James responds, faux-serious. “You’re our fiftieth customer today.”

“You’re lying,” you say, a flicker of a smile on your face.

James shrugs, grinning handsomely. “D’you want the free coffee or not, oat milk?”

You raise your eyebrows in response, pretending to zip your lips and throw away the key. James nods approvingly.

He discards the dregs of the cappuccino he was making, starting anew with his gaze flitting over to you intermittently. You watch the trees sway through the high windows to the left of you as you wait, your hands clasped in front of you, one wrist held in a palm. He knows, as he watches you, that you have to go feel all of the pain to see a way out of it.

So he keeps his mouth shut for now, and hopes this cafe will become a regular haunt.

Weeks, a month, two passes. He takes it slow. He thinks your dreadfully pretty but that’s besides the point right now; when he was grieving his relationship with Lily, all he wanted to do was mope and be left alone. No number of Sirius’ “friends” could quell that deep, overwhelming hankering in his chest.

“Hey,” you greet one day, resolute.

James raises his eyebrows at you. Remus is off sick. “Hey?”

“I’m paying today.”

James snorts, shaking his head. “No way.”

“I’m tipping heavily,” you warn.

“Wow,” James sighs sadly. “Like you would any other employee, huh? And here I thought we were friends.”

“Shut up.” You scowl. Not really; it baffles James, how your features can still look so sweet when they’re contorted all angrily. “You’re right. You don’t even need this job.”

The thing about James is, his family owns half the establishments in town square. He’s one of those enigmatic personalities that you’ve always known to rule your hometown; around when you are, dancing around the corners of your gaze, kind and ever-present but never very important. Until now.

He grins handsomely, dropping into a curtesy. He oozes fondness and it makes you forget things often. “Nepo baby at your service, sweetheart.”

“That’s what I don’t get about all this,” you say. “You don’t… why’re you wasting your time here? Is this gig just a way for you to pick up chics?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“James.”

He grins wider, raising his arms in surrender. “Full disclosure?”

You cock your head to one side, intrigued. “I’m listening.”

“Well… it actually started as a way to fill my time,” he answers, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I went through a pretty tough break up last year, and I couldn’t bear to be sat at home hurting over the same shit over and over.

“So dad got me this gig. I didn’t even get paid in the start, honest. I barely did anything; made like, one coffee over eight hours. But I was around people, and that helped. I don’t know.”

You swallow. It sounds far too familiar to your own circumstances, and a distant ache rings through your chest — a reminder. “I know the feeling.”

“And then I met Rems, and introduced him to my mate Sirius,” he continues, raising his eyebrows. “Turns out they’re fucking mad for each other, who’d have thought it? And it just reminded me… I don’t know, that there’s still hope.”

Another pause. You know what he means, but you want him to say it anyway, for your own sake.

Your lashes flutter closed. “Hope?”

“To love again. Eventually.”

His rough timbre reverberates through your insides. You nod, slowly, and when you open your eyes, unshed tears darken your lashes. James frowns, but he doesn’t intervene. He knows this feeling; his own heart mourns its melody.

He hands you your coffee soundlessly.

“Thanks,” you says, your voice cracks.

When you turn around, you know you’ll be back tomorrow. And then the next day, a few days after.

You aren’t sure when you start believing it too. But slowly, slowly, without even knowing you are, you begin smiling more. Ruminating less. No one’s ever given you this many free coffees in the past. James’ tally surpasses your ex-boyfriend’s by week four; the small talk’s more about you than about him, and he learns your quirks with this startling sincerity that you didn’t think you’d ever experience again.

The more you see of James, the more you recognise how much love your past relationship lacked. Strangers, friends, more than. All you did was blink.

Though of course, you’d be lying if you said the melancholy didn’t wax and wane, flow through you in waves that make your entire being crash ashore.

James knows this. He still feels the odd pang of heartache at the thought of Evans.

On Christmas Eve, the air feels different. The melted snow in your hair glistens in the warm light of the cafe, and for the first time since he met you, James sees it reflected in your gaze.

“The usual?” Remus asks in lieu of greeting.

“Times two, if possible Rem,” you say. You turn to James. “Coffee?”

James startles for a moment before he regains his composure, his wide, brown eyes falling over your in paces. You’ve always been breathtakingly beautiful, but something about your features seems different now, better.

Softer. Healed.

“You’re paying though, right?” James asks, faux-serious.

“I see,” you reply, folding your arms across your chest. “As long as it’s not a date, you have no problem paying for things?”

“Shit,” James wolf-whistles approvingly, jumping over the counter so he’s standing right in front of you. You gaze tilts, messing with your centre of gravity. “This is a date, huh?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Do you want it to be?”

James raises his in tandem. “If that’d make you happy.”

A pause. “You know,” you say quietly, breaking eye contact. “After my break up, I didn’t think anything’d make me happy ever again.”

James’ features soften. He reaches forward and cups your jaw, returning your gaze to his. “And now?”

“Can’t you see it in my face, James Potter?” You smile poignantly. “Yes is the answer to your question, by the way. It’d make me very happy.”

Behind you, Remus begins to clap. James groans and drops his head to your shoulder, deftly flipping him off. “Don’t fucking start, Moons.”

“Are you kidding? Coffee’s are on me, by the way. Pads is going to fucking die when he finds out.”

But on a Wednesday in a cafe / I watched it begin again

[archived-junkissed]

bedtime cuddles

member — seungcheol x gn reader genre — fluff word count — 660 warnings — none notes — this is the first thing i ever wrote for this blog and it's been sitting in my google drive for a long time so i decided to post it finally. since this is the third "bedtime" drabble i've posted, i'm considering making a mini series so please leave your thoughts on that so i know if that's something people would like. enjoy! note #2 — inspired by this 2018 ttt video!

one reblog = one really good hot shower

the bathroom is foggy when you turn off the shower, the mirror steamed up from the warmth of the water. the rhythmic whir of the overhead fan fills the silence as you wrap a towel around your head, wringing a little bit of the water from your hair. stepping out of the bathroom, you wander down the hallway, peeking into each room, looking for your boyfriend.

"baby?" you call out through the house. a soft, mumbled shout comes from down the hall in reply, and you smile, heading back into the bathroom.

after giving your hair one last shake, you hang the wet towel up, flicking off the fan and the light as you leave. walking into the next room, you find seungcheol in the darkened living area laying on the mattress on the floor, illuminated by the light of the tv.

you stand behind him for a moment, watching him as he lays unmoving on his side, a pillow tucked behind his head. his face is relaxed, lips barely parted, watching the program on the tv through half-lidded eyes. dark hair is strewn across the pillow, already matted, and you hold back a laugh, knowing how much of a mess it'll be when he wakes up tomorrow. but over the years you've come to love his tousled morning look; despite his shy complaints, his wild hair and puffy cheeks are one of the best part of your mornings.

the quilted blanket spread over him is one you made him for christmas or a birthday, you can't remember which. he's used it so much it's starting to wear out, and you make a mental note to make him another for your upcoming anniversary. maybe you can come up with something cute with little pieces of fabric from the places you’ve been together– it’s too late tonight, though, you’ll figure it out in the morning.

hearing you enter the room, he shifts from his curled position and tilts his head back to look behind him.

"hey," he says with a quiet chuckle, his features softening into a smile when he sees you. "feel better now after a shower?"

"mhm." you grin in the darkness and crouch down, claiming your spot next to him on the floor. his phone is plugged into the small tv at your feet, a reality show playing quietly on the screen. "what're you watching?"

he lifts his arm to throw the blanket over you before turning back to the tv. "dunno. something to fall asleep to. i paid for it on my phone."

you scoot closer, cuddling up behind him and gently putting your arm around him. "today was nice," you whisper. "really nice."

he turns his head to the side to face you, giving you a lazy smile. "yeah." he moves his arm on top of yours, rubbing his thumb along your wrist. his voice is warm and already thick with sleep, and you close your eyes, exhaling softly.

there's so much more you could say about your vacation today, but neither of you wants to disrupt the comfortable nighttime silence that has begun to settle over the rented house as sleep slowly starts to creep in on you. the unspoken words show in every gentle touch as you lie next to each other, relaxing in the moment you have together.

"i love you, cheollie," you whisper after a while. minutes have passed, and you're not even sure if he's still awake, but as you snuggle your face into his neck, the faint smell of his body wash lingering in your nose, you know you've never meant any words more than those.

"love you, too, baby," he whispers back a second later, and you lean closer to press the gentlest of kisses to the patch of skin below his ear. soon you hear his breathing even, and quiet snores fill the room. not long after you drift off too, a hint of a smile on both your faces.

drabble taglist | @foxdaisy @tinkerbell460 @just-here-to-read-01 @ny0sang @noraehey @squiishymeow @pearlygraysky @baekhyunstruly @tenn87 @raevyng @odetoyeonjun @dkakapizzaboy @enhacolor @highkey-fangirling @baldi-2 @onlymingyus @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @potatofrieswithketchup @skzzooyaaa @stariightjoyy @pluviophile-xxx @strawberri-uyu @tigermoonbiss @emmmm127 @hybe02z @sstarrysshit @g00dtimenotlongtim3 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @enha-choo @matilde111

also tagging @duhnova for funsies

join my taglist here!

[the-universal-sun]

Could you write some baby regressor Stan with cg Ford or Fidds? Tyy

I've never written about baby regression, and I'm not the most well versed in it, so forgive me if this is short. I still hope you enjoy this nonetheless, and thank you so much for your request!!! I really wanted to see more of CG Fidds, so I wrote exactly that!!! Please let me know what you think!!!

As always, I am open to helpful advice!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

     "Why hello there, Lil' Man, did'ya have a nice nap, baby?" Fiddleford cooed down to Stan from his chair sat next to the couch. It was around four in the afternoon, a bit late for one of Stan's naps, but Fiddleford thinks he's feeling smaller than usual, and he wouldn't blame him. He had such an overwhelming day yesterday, his coffee spilled, customer after customer screaming in his face for hours on end, and his shower went ice cold after just five minutes, nothing went right for his poor one yesterday, so Fiddleford was gearing up for a quiet day with lots and lot of cuddles, and it was indeed quiet, but the energy was off, Stan was off. He didn't play around like he usually did, no coloring or block building, he layed there or clung to Fiddleford and dozed off, only watching the television when a bright cartoon aimed at...very young children came on. The behavior was so similar to his Tate when he was very young that Fiddleford treated Stan that way. And it didn't seem like Stan was much inclined to argue

     Fiddleford smiled and booped Stan's nose as his boy blinked sleepily up at him from the couch, his little Teddy clutched in one hand and his worn quilt in the other. He smiled back at Fidds, one hand reaching up and grasping at his nose in an attempt to recreate to boop, the grasping just made Fidds laugh gently as to not startle Stan. His Little Man just airily laughed with him, his blanket on a course to his mouth before being redirected by Fidds with a "No, baby, that's for sleepin', not chewin' on, I've gotcha something better," he pops Stan's pacifier in his mouth, hoping to satisfy that urge to chew on something. He then helped Stan sit up, steadying him as he tries to heave him off the cushions and into the old wheelchair Fiddleford had been using to move Stan around for the parts of the day he wasn't in the mood for walking-as much as he loves his boy and loves to care for him when ge gets like this, he can only carry him around for so long before his back starts hurting, and he doesn't want to slip a disc with Stan feeling this young-cushioned with pillows and blankets to make it comfortable. With a "heave ho", Stan was succesfully placed in the wheelchair, happily too, as evidenced by his giggles and babbles. Which, Fiddleford loves hearing, his boy's happy babbling is like music to his ears. He rolls Stan from the livingroom to the kitchen, where he had a still warm sippy cup of milk waiting at the table. He briefly considers buying a bottle or two and modifying the lids to fit Stan's mouth before dismissing the thought as something to bring up when Stan's out of his fuzzy headspace.

     "Alright now, Papa's got some honey milk for your tummy, Lil' Man, nice and warm. Just let me hold it, m'kay?" Fiddleford feels his heart about melt when Stan just looks at him, wide eyed and happy, before opening his mouth and letting his pacifier fall on his lap. He just picks it up and sets it on the table before smoothing Stan's hair back, scratching the nape of his neck and earning another giggle. He's had to think about how this will go down during Stan's nap. He would've done it with Stan layed all snug in his lap on the couch, holding the sippy cup for Stan to sip and whatever pace he wanted, but Fidds didn't want him to be on the couch all day, knowing laying down after drinking the milk would put him right back to sleep. He then considered just sitting in a chair and having Stan on his lap as he holds the cup, but dispite Fidds being a good 3-4 inches taller, he would still have to have Stan scoot down until he was on the edge on his knees, which would be uncomfortable for both of them. So he'll just have Stan stay in this chair, bracketed with pillows and blankets, as Fidds sits on the arm of it, holding his sippy cup and petting his hair. It's not as cuddly as he wants, but this is what'll do...maybe they should get a bigger and comfier chair...

     Fiddleford brings the sippy cup up to Stan's mouth, tilting it forwards just slightly as his baby latches on and starts to sip at the sweet and warm milk, wishing there was a way he could capture to dazed look on Stan's face and the soft snuffles he makes as he drinks, the way he grips his plush, crushing it to his chest. As unprecedented as this day may have been, Fidds wouldn't have changed it for the world, there is no place he'd rather be in this moment. He's here for Stan, through the good and the bad, for when his mood sours and his mind goes hazy, for when his thoughts tilt on the side of childish. He's here for his boy, thick and thin, rain or shine, small or big.

[bullet-prooflove]

"And I told everybody I was fine for a whole damn year" with Scola, please? Obviously make it 2 years

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @district447 @stelacole @abby-splace

Companion piece:

This Ain't Goodbye - Stuart and you make the decision to divorce due to the revelation about his son.

Every Inch Of You (NSFW) - You and Stuart spend the night together after two years apart.

Escapee - You and Stuart are reunited when a face from your past escapes from prison.

It’s past midnight and you’re sitting inside a safe house, deep in the suburbs staring at the Sylvester Stallone’s frozen features on the TV in front of you because you are positive you can hear someone tip toeing in the hallway outside your assigned bedroom.

It’s a second later you hear Stuart’s light rap on the door. It opens to reveal the man himself standing there in a navy blue t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms. You remember the nights where he wore nothing but black Calvin Klein boxers that clung to him in a way that was almost unholy.

Having a son has changed your ex-husband in ways you never could have imagined. After watching his interactions with Jack you can see he’s softer these days, more patient. There’s a joy in him that you know you never could have given him, even if you had stayed together and Jack hadn’t come along.

You expected it to hurt more, being around the two of them but instead of pain you’re plagued by a sense of wistfulness. You made the right decision by leaving. Your guilt and your bitterness over your condition wouldn’t have created a healthy environment for Jack to step into and he needed support at the time, he needed love and stability. You would have only brought turbulence.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask Stuart and he shakes his head as he leans in the doorway, unwillingly to cross some unseen boundary. Even now he’s thinking of you, of the stress this situation must be causing you. “Wanna watch Tulsa King with me?”

“Is it as bad as it sounds?” He asks as he steps over the threshold, watching as you shift the pillows against the headboard for him.

“It’s pretty fun.” You tell him, resetting the series to the first episode.

“Under the sheets?” He questions, gesturing at the quilt. “Or over?”

You know what he’s really asking.

Do you want me close? Or do you need space?

“I don’t mind.” You tell him honestly.

He climbs under the sheets with you, his shoulder bumping against yours and you’re taken back to last night, the two of you tangled up in one another in a hotel room before he’d received that phone call telling him he needed to leave. You know he must be thinking about it too from the way he unconsciously plays with his ring finger.

“It doesn’t hurt-” You find yourself saying into the space between you. “-seeing you with Jack. I thought it would but it doesn’t.”

“I worried.” He admits, tilting his head so he can study your features. “About what it would do to you being cooped up like this with us. I half expected to find you climbing out the window because you couldn’t take it anymore.”

You laugh then because it’s certainly something you would have considered in the past.

“The old Sasha definitely would have.” You tell him the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile. “But this Sasha, the one that’s had time and therapy to deal with her issues, not so much. Besides I’m getting too old to shimmy down drainpipes.”

It’s his turn to laugh and you’ve forgotten just how much you love that sound.

“Did it help?” He asks you, rolling into his side and you mirror his posture so the two of you are face to face. “Taking some space, getting some distance?”

“It did.” You tell him as you prop you head up on the pillow. “I wasn’t as focused on the problem, I could look at it objectively in a way I couldn’t when I was here in New York.”

Stuart nods his head in understanding, before he reaches out and tucks an errant strand of hair back behind your ear.

“I’ve told everyone that I was fine for the past two years.” He tells you, his thumb tracing over the blush of your cheek. “And then you walked back into my life and I realised I wasn’t, not really. I was just existing but I wasn’t actually living. I was just being what he needed because I had to be, my life became about him because the rest of it… it’s empty.”

You understand exactly what he means. You’ve enjoyed every single one of your new experiences over the past few years but there’s still this void inside of you, this space that can only be filled by the man who lies across from you.

“I’m back in New York now.” You tell him, your lips brushing over his pulse point as you clasp his palm to your cheek. “They offered me a position setting up a training hub here in the city so maybe we could try again, see where that leads us.”

He smiles then and the expression on his handsome features, it just lights up your entire world even after all these years.

“Oh Sasha.” He whispers as he leans in close, his lips brushing over yours. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

Stuart? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[lightgirlification]

In Stars and Time: After Story Chapter 5

CW for slight intrusive thoughts. It's time for the next chapter in this story! Enjoy!

Chapter 5:

Siffrin sighed in content as they flopped down to the bed, taking in the soft blankets and the mattress that formed around their body just right. They heard a chuckle from Isabeau,

“You really love that bed huh?”

“It’s one of the best I’ve slept in.” Siffrin pouted, “Do we really have to leave it when we go?”

“Unfortunately, but this won’t be the last time we have such a comfy bed. Who knows? Maybe we’ll find an even better one!” The rogue shook their head,

“Nope. This bed is the ruler of all beds, it reigns supreme.” His boyfriend grinned,

“And we are it’s subjects I presume? It seems to rule over us well considering how we sleep.” Siffrin smirked,

“Would explain the spring in our steps.” Isabeau laughed,

“Yes! Definitely!” The tall man tried to calm himself, “I should watch my voice, I don’t want to disturb the others.”

“Don’t worry…” Siffrin’s smirk grew, and Isabeau tried not to look like he was eager to hear what came next, “I’ll quilt it if it gets too much.” The large man covered his mouth to muffle his cackles, falling to sit on the bed. Siffrin joined him in his laughter, it was so easy with how hearty Isabeau’s laughs were. His laughter dying down, the man looked back at Siffrin,

“Crab, I love you, you know that?” The bright haired adult’s cheeks darkened slightly but they nodded. They would never forget that; they would do everything in their power to remember, especially with how much Isabeau does for them. They looked down at their hands, fiddling with them,

“I do. I don’t want to ever forget that.” It became silent, Siffrin becoming enraptured with how his hands looked. He couldn’t forget his love for Isabeau or the others; if he did what did that make him? Someone who used that very love to make himself feel better. No, he wouldn’t let that happen. He felt the bed recessing more and turned his head to look at Isabeau lying next to him,

“What’s on your mind buddy?”

“What do you mean?” His boyfriend gave a fond, yet knowing look,

“You look like you’re thinking too hard again.” Siffrin blinked and stared for a moment, before looking to the side with a nervous smile,

“I guess I am…” Turning to face the ceiling again, his hands rested on top of his stomach, “It’s just…I’m happy my memory is getting better, and that I was able to recall something for so long. But…What if it was just a fluke, that this is just one big trick being played by someone bigger than all of us? And then tomorrow I forget everyone’s favorite foods, or even the designs in your sketch book.” His eye became pained, “I hate that thought, I don’t want to keep forgetting Isa.” If he forgot he was no better than the villains in the plays he watched; using others for their own gain, tricking them into caring so they could get what they wanted. He didn’t want to be like that…He jumped a little at the feeling of a hand covering both of his, and looked back over to Isabeau,

“You won’t keep forgetting Sif, I promise.” Siffrin looked desperate,

“How do you know? Isa, I may have grasped the memories now somehow but with my mind the way it is…”

You will forget, you ALWAYS forget. You grasp onto them like a leech and will keep doing so because you treat the memories like TRASH.

They shook their head, “We can’t trust it! I know I’ve been doing well, and maybe there’s a possibility I won’t need physical proof or so many reminders in the future but I-!”

“Sif.” The words stopped immediately at Isabeau’s stern tone, but it was replaced with soft comfort, “It’ll be okay. You’ve been doing very well, I’ve seen it. But you seem to think that failing isn’t an option anymore.” The man’s grip on Siffrin’s hands tightened slightly, “There’s no shame in needing help. You know you can rely on us, right?” The rogue looked at their pillow,

“I do. But I don’t want to bother anybody. You all do so much for me already, and if I get better then you all won’t have to worry about me.” To their surprise, Isabeau chuckled,

“I hate to break it to you, but I think we’re going to anyway. We all worry about each other, and we make sure that we’re okay. There are times we make mistakes, but we work together to solve the problem or do our best to make it up to each other. That’s what being family means.” Siffrin blinked. Right, they were family, even after…

“Even after…What happened 4 months ago?” Isabeau nodded,

“I know how hard you treat yourself about it, and while what you did was wrong, I think anyone would be lost when going through what you did. Crab Sif you’re human. You are allowed to feel upset.”

“But I hurt you all…” Siffrin muttered sadly, but Isabeau continued,

“You did, but you obviously regret what happened, and you are making it up to us by letting us in bit by bit. We just want you to get better buddy.” Siffrin’s lips tightened into a thin line,

“What if I never get better? What if I’m…just trapped?” They shivered at the thought, “I can’t…go back.” Isabeau lifted his arm, an invitation to a hug, and who was Siffrin to refuse? They scooted closer to wrap their arms around Isabeau as the man held them close, combing through their hair with his fingers,

“No one is ever truly stagnated. Stuck maybe, but we’re always improving in some way. I know how you feel, wanting to rush through it and see the results, but you can’t do that to yourself. All it’ll lead to is an eventual crash, and the more you push it the more chained down you become.” Siffrin looked up,

“But shouldn’t I push through it so I can work towards those goals?” Isabeau closed his eyes in thought,

“Well…” His dark orbs opened, “Think of it like this. A rope that’s secure and well maintained will do its job just fine, but there’s still going to be ware and tear on it. If that rope is pulled on constantly, that tear will become worse until it eventually snaps. It’s not the rope’s fault, the situations around it just pushed it to its breaking point.” Isabeau looked at Siffrin, “Now imagine you’re the rope. You have gone through a lot of situations that would cause any of the finest thread to break, but you’re still here, fighting and holding on. A ‘rope’ with that strength is extremely special but needs to be cared for as much as anyone would. You deserve to take it easier on yourself, you’re doing so much work as is.” He kissed Siffrin’s head, “And I for one am so proud of you.” Siffrin blinked several times as the tears began to build up. He took in Isabeau’s words, and nodded,

“Thank you.” He whispered, “I’ll do my best to…take it easier.”

“And that’s okay, moderation is important. Just know whatever you decide to do, we’re all here for you, okay?” Siffrin nodded once more, before yawning. Isabeau made them both more comfortable, and after nuzzling into their boyfriend’s chest, Siffrin let themself drift off.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Siffrin fell asleep easier than usual. It was probably because of the big meal they had that night, and the talk they had with Isabeau calming their nerves. The man was right about a lot of things, and Siffrin could admit they felt accomplished for remembering things over a long period of time. It made his heart swirl with pride and truly, maybe soon he wouldn’t need help to remind him of various things; no more lists, books, or even other people’s words, he would grasp memories all on his own. But was that truly possible? With his mind the way it is…No, stop, he shouldn’t give in so easily. He said to Isabeau he would try to take it easier, and he could also talk with Odile to set up a plan to help him continue remembering things. He could do this.

Speaking of which, his talks with Odile did help soothe his subconscious, not having nearly as many nightmares as he did a few months ago. Originally, during and after the loops, sleep was something Siffrin feared. The visions he saw when his body drifted off were intense, and there were plenty of nights where he woke up screaming, sometimes not even knowing he was awake. Now however, his dreams had been easier to manage despite the vivid imagery.

But this was...Different...

Siffrin's eye was met with a bright, almost shimmering field of which he laid in, and a calm sky above; quite different than the usual scenery his mind would conjure up. It was...peaceful, not only that but Siffrin felt awake just as he did when he laid his head down that night. There was no haziness that came with his vivid dreams, he felt fully awake. What was going on?

Well, nothing is going to come to him just laying here. Besides doing so brought on less then savory memories…

They stood up and looked around, seeing a few trees around and a little river. Perhaps they should follow it and see where it led…They began following the water’s edge, looking around for any changes. They walked for what seemed like a few minutes before a tree came into view, and not just any tree, it was...The Favor Tree in Dormont? Oh no, what was this dream trying to do to him? Siffrin gulped and took careful steps closer, unsure if he would be ready for what awaited him. He was at the side of the tree, placing a nervous hand on it. It felt so real, the wood brushing against his glove as it would when he was awake. He took a deep breath in...And out…He needs to face whatever his head was going to throw at him. Siffrin swiftly turned the corner of the tree and turns out he was right about not being ready, but not in the way he would ever have expected. He froze on the spot, his eye growing as wide as it could become as he took in the person before him.

"...Loop?" The said figure jumped only slightly. It was like they were experiencing the same dream as Siffrin was, but he had to remember this was just an illusion made up by his mind due to the traveler missing Loop so much. Siffrin shouldn’t get his hopes up, this was a dream after all, and they looked down sadly, "I guess...I would dream of you eventually. It's been months and yet this is the first time I've seen you in some way. At least it counts for something right Loop?" It is silent between them.

Obviously, what good would talking to a mere imitation do? Stupid, absolutely stupid.

"Come now Stardust, are you still thinking like that? I imagine you've at least tried to talk with them!" Siffrin's head shot up and stared at the other, and Loop stared right back, "Wait...You heard that?" Siffrin nodded slowly, and Loop blinked several times as if trying to see if this was real, real to them as it was to Siffrin. They laughed a little, "Well isn’t this a cruel joke. First, I wake up somewhere I don't know, and now I'm dreaming of you. I mean, what sort of comfort is that when I can't even truly talk to-"

"Loop." The said Star stopped talking as Siffrin spoke, "I...I want to try something." He stepped a little closer, and could tell Loop was tense, almost taking a battle stance. Did they perhaps have nightmares too, if so what of? Put that on the back burner Siffrin...

The shorter between the two slowly raised his hand, and then gently poked Loop's, who blinked at the action, "Did...You feel that?" Loop nodded, and Siffrin gulped. He didn't want to get his hopes up but..."Now, do something similar to me." Loop carefully took Siffrin's hand in theirs...

Before pinching the back of it.

"OW?!" Siffrin jumped and pulled his hand away, "SERIOUSLY?!" Loop all the while was staring, before their laughter burst out,

"Stars, you really let out a yelp! I knew you were still jumpy Stardust but my goodness~!" Siffrin huffed,

"I was just trying to see if...! If..." It hit them both, they were really speaking to each other. Whatever dream this was, whatever was happening to them...

This was real. This was real!

"Loop!" Siffrin smiled widely and jumped to wrap their arms around the said Star, who stumbled back a bit,

"Ack! O-Okay, I wasn't expecting you to be a hugger now!" Siffrin looked up at Loop with tears in his eye, happily giggling,

"I had a good teacher." There was a pause, but soon Loop gave a soft chuckle,

"Bonnie?" Siffrin nodded,

"Bonnie." The rogue felt tears fall down his face, and he buried his face into Loop's chest, "I missed you Loop."

"I...Can see that..." Siffrin felt Loop's hands hover over his back, before settling on his shoulders, "I did say we'd meet again Stardust." Siffrin nodded, looking up again,

"But where are you now? Are you far from us? Are you still under the tree in Dormont-"

"Hold on now, how about you calm down first before asking all the questions? Also, I'd prefer not to be a handkerchief so could you please not wipe your tears on me?" Siffrin jolted backwards,

"I-I'm sorry I just-!"

"I'm kidding Stardust~! You're just so easy to tease!" Siffrin pouted before Loop sighed, "But really, despite everything...It’s good to see you." Siffrin smiled at the words, looking at the tree,

“I wonder why this is the place this dream…vision…or whatever decided on.” Loop crossed their arms,

“I don’t fully understand myself, but maybe it’s because we spent a lot of time underneath this tree. Honestly, the place that was involved in you being caged and where I tried to kill you shouldn’t be a place we meet again.” While there may be truth to that, Siffrin still shook their head,

“Even so, it’s where I first met you. Though I was trapped I still was happy you were there. In a very odd way, I’m fond of this place because it reminds me of you.” He could feel Loop’s eyes on him,

“You really are strange Stardust…” They looked conflicted, and Siffrin understood why. It was as if Loop didn’t want to be looked at so fondly after everything, but the rogue couldn’t help that. Loop was dear to them as his family, in a sense they were family. Siffrin wished he could say that, but he knew Loop’s feelings were very raw on the topic, so he would remain silent about it for now.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll wake up anytime soon.” Siffrin sat down on the tree just like he did back in Dormont, “So why don’t we talk a bit?” Loop raised an eyebrow,

“You? Talk? Now I’ve heard everything.”

“Pun intended?” Siffrin asked and his counterpart rolled their eyes, a smile clear to see even without a visible mouth,

“Make of it what you will.” Loop took their seat, crossing their legs and resting their cupped hands on their knee, “Now then, how can help you on this wonderful-” Loop caught themselves, their eyes holding unease as they looked to the side, “I have to get used to not needing to say that.” Siffrin chuckled nervously,

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” This brought on an awkward silence that caused Siffrin to play with his bangs. What could the two talk about exactly? Maybe Siffrin could start off with how he’s been, but would that be rude of him? Wait a minute, Loop mentioned they were unsure of where they were, perhaps Siffrin could ask about that, “So um…You don't know where you've woken up at all?" Loop blinked at the question,

“Eh? Ah…” They thought for a moment, "I'm not entirely sure what happened after our fight but...It was like I was sleeping for a long while. Perhaps death is very much like that.” A shake of their head, “But I digress. I woke up just recently in a wooded area, and I didn’t make much head way in finding a town or city because, well just waking up from being dead gives you a lot to think about~!" Loop cheerfully put their hands together, and Siffrin knew they were masking how they truly felt, but he wouldn’t push it. It was quiet again as Loop seemed to think for a bit before they seemed to think of something and they narrowed their eyes at the bright haired traveler, "You didn't wish for this did you?" Siffrin swiftly waved his hands in front of him,

"No absolutely not! Even if I wanted to, I refused to even utter the word ‘wish’! Hasn't left my mouth for months..." Loop sighed,

"Right…I was just making sure." Siffrin didn't blame them, still it was all so odd...

"Why do you think you suddenly woke up?" Loop leaned back a little,

"That is the burning question, Stardust. Anything could've happened when you won. Who knows, maybe your 'belief in me' brought me back." Siffrin smiled softly and Loop made a face, "Don't look so happy about that, it's the cheesiest thing I've ever said." Siffrin giggled,

"But I'd like for it to be true." Loop tilted their head,

"You certainly are back to being more positive again. You've been talking to your allies I presume?" Siffrin nodded,

"A lot yeah, and Odile and I have scheduled talks. It...feels good to get things out." Loop closed their eyes in thought,

"...I'm glad." They then winked at Siffrin taking on one of their famous poses, "So! Were you losing sleep over little ol' me? Do you find me that dreamy?" Was...Was Loop making puns? And not only that, but they were also good ones! Siffrin’s title of 'Ruler of Puns' was being challenged, he must stand his ground.

Siffrin put on a smirk, "Perhaps I needed to see your shimmering presence again." A confident air emanated from Loop,

"I am quite stellar."

"Maybe I'll catch some z's thanks to you." Even Siffrin knew that one was bad, and Loop looked triumphant,

"I believe I win this round Stardust." The rogue huffed a little, before beginning to chuckle,

“No worries, I’ll get you next time. Besides, I appreciate a fellow pun enjoyer.” Loop huffed a laugh,

“I honestly don’t remember the last time I made any. Good to know my skills haven’t diminished at all.” Siffrin smiled,

“Really though, it’s good to see you again Loop. I was worried I’d never see you again.” He shifted a little, “I know you probably were tired of talking to me but-”

“Hey, don’t go doubting yourself now.” Loop interrupted, “Look, as much as we had our differences, you honestly brought a sense of normalcy to my life again; despite being another version of me, which is saying a lot. I did say it was good to see you again.” Siffrin could tell the words were sincere, but the other was holding something in,

“But…aren’t you concerned about being back?” Siffrin asked nervously, “You deserved to be at peace in any shape or form.” Loop sighed,

“I don’t know how to answer that, Stardust. I admit I have mixed feelings about it, but how about I decide what ‘peace’ is for me alright?” Siffrin nodded. That was the end of that conversation, maybe for the best, “Now then, what were you saying about having talks with your Researcher?” Back to using his family’s titles? Maybe it was no surprise, they had no connection to these people. Siffrin nodded again,

“Right. Odile brought up the idea shortly after we left Dormont. I can talk about parts of the loops I can’t with the others yet with her. It’s preparation for therapy now and…while I don’t think highly of it, everyone seems to think it’ll help. I mean, Mira has had therapy so it can’t be all bad right?” Loop hummed,

“They really care about you, so they are making sure you get the best help you deserve.”

“Mm-hm. I’m happy they’re still with me, no matter if I can be next to them or not.” Loop closed their eyes,

“It seems you’ve made some significant progress since we last met.” They opened their eyes to reveal they held warmth, “I’m proud of you.” Siffrin jolted a little at the words, but smiled widely as he couldn’t help the tears building up in his eye,

“Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Well of course. I am great at flattery~.” Loop winked, and Siffrin giggled tearfully,

“Still, thank you.” Siffrin let out a yawn, feeling lightheaded so he leaned against the tree. Loop held their head,

“Well then, I think it’s time we woke up.” The expression on Siffrin’s face must have been dreadful, because Loop laughed a bit, “Don’t worry Stardust, I doubt this is the only time we’ll talk again. Perhaps we’ll will tomorrow night.” Siffrin stared, before nodding,

“Alright, I’ll hold you to it.” A smile sent his way was the last thing Siffrin could remember seeing before his consciousness faded.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o

The sun’s rays peaked through the curtains and fell on Siffrin’s face. He slowly opened his eye and surprisingly felt well rested. His mind recalled what he dreamt of, or rather, who he met again, and beamed just as bright as the orb in the sky. He began giggling, bringing his hands to his face to muffle his voice, but he couldn’t help but wave his hands in excitement.

“Someone must’ve had a good dream.” At the voice, Siffrin looked up and saw Isabeau smiling at him, “I have to wonder how you got so adorable.” Siffrin giggled more and hugged the other,

“Morning.” He paused, mulling over how to tell Isabeau without sounding crazy. Would he even believe them? “I can’t explain it but…it wasn’t a dream I had. I…I saw Loop again. I-I know that sounds crazy, but I swear it’s true! I don’t know how or why but-”

“Sif it’s okay, I believe you.” Siffrin stared at his boyfriend,

“…Really?”

“Of course. You wouldn’t lie about something like that.” Siffrin’s grip around Isabeau tightened a little,

“I wouldn’t but…You don’t think I’m just saying it just because I miss them?”

“Again, you wouldn’t do that Sif. You’ve missed them a ton, and I know how much that’s been weighing on you. So if you’re able to see them again in any shape or form, that’s good!” Isabeau said and Siffrin felt bashful, but soon smiled again. It felt good to know he was believed, hopefully the rest of his family would also too. He sat up with Isabeau following him, and he sent the rock craft user a big grin,

“Well then, let’s get some breakfast. I’ll tell you and the others all about it!”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

lemme tell you, your writing is 🤌 every time!

if you’re still taking jamie requests, may i request a jamie x fem!reader where they’re first time parents and when the team comes and meets the new baby, they take keeley and roy aside and name them godparents? i love when big gruff men (roy) get all soft and sentimental🥹❤️‍🩹

(jamie is such a girl dad)

Your daughter was only a few hours old, and you knew you would anything to love and protect her.

Jamie, who sat beside you on the hospital bed, was holding her. Her eyes shut, just recently fed, a quilt that Simon, Jamie's stepdad, knitted, wrapped around her tiny body.

"She's so beautiful," Jamie murmurs, fingers lightly grazing your daughter's little plump cheeks. You tiredly watch him admire the precious girl you two made.

There was a knock at the door to your hospital room and you raise your voice slightly, careful not to wake your girl up, "Come in."

The door opens and Keeley pops her head in. You break out into a smile as she quietly squeals and gestures Roy to follow her in.

"She sleeping?" she asks.

You nod, "Yeah, she's just been fed."

Roy and Keeley inch closer to Jamie's side and peering down at your daughter. Keeley gasps, "She's so cute! So tiny!"

"Thank fuck she looks more like you," he points at you and you smirk. Jamie rolls his eyes.

"What's her name?"

"Willow Georgina Tartt," Jamie answers with pride.

"That's such a cute name! Did you tell your mum about it?"

You nod, "Oh yeah. She burst into tears. They're visiting in a few days. Want to give us some time to adjust to Willow."

"Also," Jamie speaks up, "Me and the wife were thinking...maybe you could be Willow's godparents, yeah?"

Keeley's jaw drops and her eyes begin to water, "Really?"

"Really."

"Oh, I'd fucking love to be her godparent!"

Jamie smiles and looks at Roy, "Grandad, how 'bout you?"

With his usual stoic face, Roy responds, "I guess someone's gotta look out for the little idiot."

Keeley is jumping and quietly clapping her hands together, "I love you guys so fucking much, you have no idea! Roy, we're godparents!"

You chuckle and settle into bed more, resting your head on Jamie's shoulder as Roy and Keeley continue to coo over Willow.

______________________

Two weeks later you and Jamie are making your way to the locker room. Baby Willow is wide awake. She's wearing her AFC Richmond kit onesie that's obviously made to look like Jamie's.

She's staring up at you as you roll her pram down the hall. You stop outside the locker room and see that Roy has already got the team's attention.

"We have a very special guest, so you all better fucking behave."

Jamie lifts Willow out of her pram and enters the locker room.

All of the guys gasp, eyes wide, and smiles big.

Jamie smiles back, a sense of pride filling up inside him, "Alright, blokes, this here Willow Georgina Tartt. I'm just gonna have to ask not everyone come out at once. She gets a bit startled around lots of people. Also, if you haven't already, wash your hands! Don't want you getting me baby sick!" Jamie commands in a very protective tone.

Sam is the first one to come up and smiles at Willow, "Oh she is very cute." He bends down a bit to be more eye level with her, "Hello Willow. I'm Sam Obisanya."

Willow stares blanky at him and proceeds to smile.

"Aaawww!" you all say.

You sit on the bench beside Roy, watching the guys meet your daughter.

"She's going to be so spoiled by these guys."

"Considering how your baby shower went, yeah. They're all wrapped around her tiny finger." Roy rasps out, crossing his arms over his chest and watching with how in love everyone is with his goddaughter.

[gullwrites]

late night discussions

photo source

this is a continuation to this btw. had this on my mind once again and i reallyyyyyy wanted to post it hehe. love looking at their early interactions.

summary: Klara comes over to Tobias an awful day at work. The friends end up talking abt their backgrounds or something at some point.

warnings: vague mentions of murder and assasinations, unethical research

Klara sat between the pillows, slowly sipping the green tea it had made for her. She seemed relaxed, calmer, than how she was when she had showed up by its door two hours ago. Comfortable enough to take her sweater off, too, revealing a dark red sports bra and a big tattoo of a branch of some kind. Sequoia branch, maybe, if it remembered the botanical poster at Aleena's apartment correctly. Though maybe it was the heating in the flat that made her take it off. Tobias still couldn't figure out how to switch it to a colder temperature and has been sleeping under a quilt for a few weeks already.

Tobias shifted slightly, leaning more on the pillow behind it. "By the way, um, may I ask something? Sorry if it is weird, I just, um, well. I'm a bit curious - maybe too curious for my own good, heh," it let out a chuckle, hoping it wouldn't sound ridiculous - though it doubted it didn't. It felt like it was already messing things up, especially now that it realized that it had been quiet for a moment too long. "I, um-"

"Man, you don't think I'm going to, like, do something if you ask a wrong question or something, do you?" Klara interrupted it. She didn't look annoyed or anything, more like upset, which made Tobias slightly frown.

"What? No, no, um, why would you think so?

"'Curious for my own good' really sounded like that. Or something," she shrugged and looked down at the cup.

"Oh, um, that! Sorry, no, I was mostly referring to all the things in my past or something, um," it said as calmly as it could, while telling itself to shut up in its thoughts and fighting an urge to cover its face with its hands.

"Hm," Klara glanced at it and smirked, "Don't worry, I get what you mean."

"Good! Um, I mean, I guess. Heh."

"So, um, what were you going to ask?"

"Oh, well, I... You're not really able to leave your job, are you?"

"Huh?"

"I, um, based on the little things you've told, of course, have gotten this idea of what your job is. I've met a few intercorporate, or internal, negotiators before, back when-" it stopped, realizing that that's maybe a bit too much information for now, considering the contract. "Um. People with job tasks like that don't get to leave peacefully, as much as I know. Corporations don't want witnesses walking around."

Klara stared at it silently. Tobias tried to understand her expression - which, no matter how she seemed to try to control it, still showed some signs of confusion, maybe? Definitely not fear, it thought. Relief?

"I, um, I worked as a researcher at Mackie before, got to talk with some people from internal, if you are wondering why I know all this. And, um, sorry, I tend to connect little details into something bigger a lot, if that makes sense," it added, thinking that it could maybe make it sound less weird or something.

"Researchers don't really get to meet negotiators unless they're in trouble... How did-"

"Oh, well. I have an NDA contract for a reason, heh. Um. Let's just say I, um, have a strong moral compass. And friends who didn't want me found in a river or something."

"Saying you're a whistleblower."

"A failed one, honestly. But, um, yeah, something like that," it chuckled, "I don't know what happened to the data, only that J- um, another person who was with me, got away for a while. And then was found dead two days later, with no data on him. Didn't see it on the news, though - that's what we planned."

"...You're not supposed to tell this, are you?"

"I, uh, probably. I don't know. Not like you'll tell about it. And this flat is bugfree as far as I know. I checked. Can't help being a bit anxious about it, y'know," it added, partly to make itself sound less ridiculous. At least it thought it sounded like that.

"I won't, don't worry," she said, "and I understand you. More than you know."

"Ah, no one is as scared of corporations than corporate workers."

"Yeah. Especially those who don't want to work there but can't leave. And whose whole family is full of corporate workers."

"That sucks."

"It really does." She finished her tea. "I don't do what those who you have met - or experienced - do, specifically. I, um, mostly just do some side things or guard the 'safety of meetings'," she said the end sarcastically, clearly not believing into the whole thing herself. "But I am aware of things some others have to do, or what higher ups cover up. Makes me sick every time. And that I have to be part of it. I know I could take the risk, try to leave, but-" she paused, and Tobias saw a small frown on her face, "I'm afraid of throwing my life away, I guess? I wouldn't want to try and drop off the face of Earth and see if that would keep me safe, because that would mean losing all friends I have, people I care about. And, well, everything I have in my life."

"I'm not judging, don't worry. I actually understand, in a way."

"Gee, thanks," she smiled, "I, um, I appreciate it."

"Anytime, and I'm, um, glad to hear that you trust me enough to tell all that."

"Hah, um, that's not all. But I think you've had enough for one night. And, hey, you did break a contract for me, technically."

Tobias laughed. "So I did. And I'd do it again if you wanted."

"Hm, tempting..." Klara chuckled, "A bit late for that, though, based on your little clock here."

It glanced at the clock. It was 2AM already. "Oh. Huh. Um. It sure is late, heh. Um, you should probably stay over tonight, there's barely any public transport at this time."

"Hm. Maybe... maybe you're right."

"Take the bed, I, um, can change the sheets quickly if you want."

Klara laughed. "No need, thanks. But, um, what about you?"

"Oh, I'll take the bean bag. I sleep on it quite often, actually. Mostly because I just fall asleep while working on university things sometimes..."

"Are you sure? I can-"

"Yes, I'm sure, don't worry, I'll be fine."

[kylorengarbagedump]

Playing Soldier: Chapter 15 (NSFW)

Read on AO3. Part 14 here. Part 16 here.

Summary: "I came out to be attacked and I'm honestly having such a good time right now" - Miss Reader

Words: 6700

Warnings: Choking. Rough sex. Do we need to put these as warnings? Seriously I ask because I feel like with our work it's just assumed but then I realized I forgot to put them last time and

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: Co-written with @bastillia.

Oops we snuck a little bit of angst in there at the end. :)

Hi! Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter - honestly so relieved to be writing more porn since we missed it so bad. Also wanted to say that we genuinely appreciate the kindness, generosity, and love we receive each chapter. Like... this is such a small little fandom and to have people enjoy the story we create in it with such engagement is really really rewarding.

Love y'all so very much! See you so soon <3

You sat against the wall. Your makeshift scarf, your shoes and stockings laid at your feet. You stared at the bed.

It was difficult to imagine that you’d spent any time in camp wishing for this very sight—the sturdy frame and headboard, the downy mattress, the soft cloud of pillows and warm quilt bathed in candlelight. Once, you might have flung yourself upon it, snuggled into it like a duckling to a shepherd dog’s fur. Now, as you huddled against the wall, it seemed more and more that any movement might somehow set that terrible, four-legged beast upon you with blazing eyes and gnashing maw.

An ache had set through your hunched shoulders, your seat bones where they rooted into the floor, your knees where they curled to your chest. You barely felt any of it. Since entering the room and sinking into this spot, you hadn’t moved. Couldn’t. But within the stone mausoleum of your body, alive and thrashing itself bloody against its walls, was your mind.

A blink, and the party slammed your skull in a tangle of colors.

‘... may want to ask your permission, first.’

Another blink met lips, teeth, breath, the sheared seam of pleasure and pain.

‘William.’

Your eyes squeezed shut. Blood—soaking through linen, staining your hands. A rattled wheeze.

‘... the “bear’s den.”’

‘William, please.’

Papa—alive, alive, alive.

‘... heading northwest.’

‘Please, I want you to take me.’

‘Break for me. I want to feel you break around my cock.’

‘William—”

Across the room, the doorknob twisted. You shot to your feet.

William Tavington entered slowly, met your eyes before easing the door shut behind him. For the second time that evening, you considered the window.

He said nothing, his brow rising in expectation. You would not give him that. Instead, you dropped straight to the floor, flopped onto your side, and flipped toward the wall. As you studied the baseboards, your rodent heart beat in double-time with his footsteps.

The vibration of his boots started from the door, crossed to the bed. Behind you, a rustle of fabric. Your chest tightened. He was undressing.

Another flicker of memory: his strength under your hands, the tension against your fingers.

‘I see what you want.’

Biting back a groan, you shut your eyes. You weren’t going to look at him. You weren’t going to even speak with him. At least, that had been what you’d told him—and to some non-negligible degree, yourself. The fact that his presence inspired such a gnawing, clamoring want made you feel like you’d swallowed a baby bird, a thing with nothing but a wide yellow mouth and an empty stomach.

In any other circumstance, you would snap its neck. But this hungry, wiry hatchling of yours seemed so fragile that the thought of crushing its delicate bones made you wince.

You did not know what to do with it, what you wanted to do with it. But as you cradled it close, stared into its mouth, so desperate and vulnerable—you found yourself longing to feed it.

“I told you I would sleep on the floor,” you said to the wall.

You heard Tavington’s boots hit the wood. “You did.”

“So that’s what I’m doing.”

“I can see that.”

His clipped tone made you bristle. You spun around to face him and were struck with the sight of him seated on the bed, absent his jacket and waistcoat, unwinding the ribbon from his hair. He gazed at you, scanned your figure before he pulled the strands of his braid free, releasing them into loose waves.

You’d never seen him with his hair down before. Heat gripped your thighs. You pressed them together.

“I don’t know what right you have to be frustrated with me,” you said. “I’m doing exactly as you asked.”

“Yes.” He glimpsed you again as he shucked his stockings. “And you are woefully mistaken if you believe your affinity for discomfort is any concern of mine.” Standing, he pulled down his breeches, his hair cascading over his shoulders, and your heart tripped over its own allegro tempo.

It was clear he had no pretense about your attention. He doffed them as if he were alone in the room, revealing to you two trunks of muscle that disappeared underneath his shirt. The swell of his calves, the pretty curve of his hamstrings, the rigid outline of his quadriceps—all of it stoked your blood like fire, all of it made you want to sink your claws and teeth into his skin.

The realization made you swallow. Perhaps you were an animal.

“I…” You drew in a breath. “I’m not uncomfortable,” you said, wiggling against the hardwood. “I like the floor, actually.”

Tavington looked at you as if you’d professed a desire to eat spiders. Without another word, he grabbed his shirt by its bloodied hem and lifted it from his torso. All moisture in your mouth evaporated.

You’d never considered yourself someone who worshiped at the altar of beauty. Its disciples were vain, its tenets vapid. But seeing William Tavington nude—his shoulders and back rippling like a tiger’s, his hair a waterfall of shimmering chestnut, his ass arching into a high, firm hill of flesh—you realized how foolish you’d been.

For this man, you would become its vassal, you’d prostrate yourself along its shallow chantry and pledge yourself in eternal service.

Tavington cast a glance at you, as if he knew you were staring, and pulled back the sheets to climb into bed. Your eyes glued to him, memorized the pattern of the hair on his chest trailing to his groin, the cut in his hips that framed his stomach. You wondered how it would feel to touch him, to graze your hand along that strange skin, to introduce your mouth to every part of his body.

A yank of the covers concealed him, breaking your trance.

You frowned. “You aren’t going to snuff the candle?”

The bed shifted with a shrug of his shoulder. “You’re perfectly capable.”

“Why me? We’re both going to sleep,” you grumbled, but he said nothing in response. “Well.” You flipped back toward the wall. “Good night.”

You shut your eyes again. You could ignore the candlelight. Just like you could ignore your want.

Outside, crickets greeted the stars. The night was heavy with late August heat, its weight swathing you like a fresh hide, crushing you beneath the layers of your gown. You pressed your cheek into the cool wood of the floor. Savoring that small mercy, you willed every blazing mote of want to pass from your skin and into those inert planks, to learn from their example.

But the floor pushed back. Into your pelvis, your shoulder. You shifted your weight onto your backside. Then the tie of your skirts bit your spine, so you flipped again, finding your way onto your stomach. There, your petticoats swamped your legs, your stays pinched your belly.

Candlelight splashed shadow over the mound in the bed where Tavington laid. You rolled over to your side again, nestling your head into the crook of your elbow, causing the sleeves of your bodice to squeeze your arms.

“I thought you liked the floor,” he murmured.

“I do,” you snapped, and thumped your arm-pillow against the wood in emphasis. “Mind your business.”

A soft noise came from Tavington. It could have been a sigh. Perhaps a scoff. Either way, it irritated you.

You closed your eyes again, settled against the planks. This time, you would not move. Not even as a seam dug into your armpit. Not even as your own hip bones became pickets, gouging through your tissues and into the floor. After all, with your flesh the ruined patchwork that it already was, what were a few more bruises?

Your fingers brushed the side of your neck and met the tender evidence of his teeth. Pleasure ghosted your nerves. You jolted, your position shifting. Scowling at yourself, you focused on immobilizing your shoulders. But that only gave your hips the opportunity to tilt of their own accord to find relief, and you sat upright with a huff.

You scowled at Tavington’s back. Waited for whatever remark he was sure to make. But his shoulders merely rose and fell in a gentle tide.

A scorching heat crept up your neck. And as it reached your face, you smothered it in your palms.

What were you doing?

Certainly not fooling anyone with your self-flagellating charade. Between this stunt and your ridiculous insistence to walk home, you’d more than earned the accusation of petulance. The woman bound in a dress and curled up on the ground was one you didn’t recognize. You were tired of her presence. Tired of her punishment.

The facts were plain. That you had been with a man, and you’d liked it. That there was no reconciling your differences with him, but that hadn’t stopped you. That you could do nothing but take action, now, and there was no point in making yourself miserable.

Grumbling, you clambered onto your feet and shuffled to the empty side of the bed. You paused. Swallowed. Reached out toward it as if afraid it may bite. When it did not, you slowly rolled on top of the blankets, head on the pillow, eyes on the ceiling. Beside you, Tavington faced the wall, exhaling as you wriggled to the edge of the mattress.

His presence felt heavier than that of a man’s. It filled the room like smoke, ate the air and made you choke. Your head felt light. Your skin burned.

This man had been inside you. Hollowed you. Shattered you. And now you laid in bed next to him as if you didn’t even know his name.

You wondered if it felt as foreign for him as it felt for you. Wondered how many dozens of women slept in his bed and were made nameless in the morning light.

Had he spent this evening only wanting you? Or were you a convenience, a pleasant exploit that he’d mock in tales to his friends?

Did he have friends?

“What were you laughing about?” you heard yourself ask.

Tavington was silent for a moment. He didn’t move. “Have your hopes set on a future asylum visit?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not now.” You looked at your nails, then the ceiling. “Earlier.”

“I can’t imagine I found anything prior to this moment entertaining enough to laugh.”

“With those two women,” you said, a bit more insistent than you wanted to be. “You know what I’m referring to.”

“Ah.” Something akin to a smirk entered his tone. “What was it you said—mind your business?”

You frowned. “I think it is my business,” you said, rolling over to face his back. “You looked at me right after you laughed.”

“Did you interpret that to be an invitation?”

“No.” You suppressed an urge to poke a finger into his shoulder blade. “I interpreted it as you—you laughing at me.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “What if I was?” he asked. “Why does my opinion concern you?”

“I…” It was a fair question. Why did it matter to you at all? One thousand emotions waited like frog eggs beneath the surface of your mind, their jelly bodies stuck together, their identities undisclosed. None of them had a name. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, dear,” he said. “Armageddon is upon us. She’s admitted ignorance.”

You growled in frustration. “I just…” To speak, to birth a feeling would be to christen it and accept it into your custody. But there were too many. You would surely suffocate underneath them. “It just does.”

Tavington sighed through his nose and rolled over. A lock of his hair fell over his face. He pushed it aside. “You cannot be so foolish.”

“What?”

He stared at you. The intensity of his focus seared you, set your burning skin aflame, made you question why you still had on this damn gown and this pair of stays and this shift and all of it.

“I suppose next you’ll tell me you don’t even know why you’re here.”

“Because you forced me to be,” you replied, huffing.

Tavington did nothing but hold your gaze, daring you to continue to skate along the edges of honesty. You would rather escape your body and float into the air than continue examining your little clutch of emotional liabilities.

But despite your wishes, you remained corporeal. Your emotions remained real.

“No.” It was a half-truth. You had a hunch of why you were in this room. A hunch that only extended to Tavington himself, and a hunch you could still not bring yourself to accept regardless. “I don’t know, all right?”

“Then I’ll ask you a question. You informed me that you would neither speak to me nor lie in this bed,” he said, as if he were reading to a simpleton. “Now you have, and you do.” He paused, still staring. “Why?”

You couldn’t keep looking at him. Your eyes fell to the space between you, more vast than the oceans between where you’d each been born. Why indeed—the question alone inspired a flinch of resentment. You had given him a part of you that you hadn’t ever anticipated giving anyone. And yes, you’d liked that you’d done it, but you hated how exposed it had left you. You didn’t want anyone to gloat over your vulnerability, least of all him. And at the same time, you couldn’t wait to do it again.

“I… It’s that…” The sentence fumbled on your tongue. “We’ve been together,” you said, swirling your finger on the sheets. “Perhaps it’s one of a hundred for you, but I don’t have the privilege of experience.”

Tavington watched you, followed the pattern you drew as you spoke. His eyes wandered along the edge of your figure, leapt back to your face. He snorted.

“You poor thing,” he said.

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

He rolled onto his back, looked to the ceiling. “You’re terrified of what you want.”

“Terrified?” you said. “I’m not terrified of anything.”

“Look at you.” He glanced sideways. “Stumbling over your words.”

“I—no, I’m…” You shifted forward, trying to force your feelings free. They clung together like a congealed mass. “I don’t know what I want.”

He turned, cocked an eyebrow in dry incredulity.

“Why are we focusing on me?” You narrowed your eyes. “What do you want?”

Tavington rolled fully onto his side, propped himself up on his forearm. “No,” he said, chiding. “I think it’s quite clear what I want.” His eyes flicked to your marred throat. “To everyone.”

You swallowed, stupefied under his full attention.

“What I have already had,” he continued, voice falling into his chest, “and would have again.”

His desire raised the hair along your nape, called to you like the lightning tether between earth and sky. Your gaze flitted over his skin, the powerful curve of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest. That hungry want inside you wailed out your answer, gulped blindly toward the shadow where his body disappeared beneath the covers. Shuddering, you closed your eyes.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

You began to shake your head. Winced at your own cowardice. Peeled your eyes open.

Tavington’s gaze ensnared you.

“Do not evade this,” he said. “Tell me what you want.”

“I…” Your tongue felt encased in bark. “I…” You tried to swallow, but it lodged in your throat.

“Ah, ah,” Tavington dipped his chin, coaxed your eyes to remain on his. “I want to hear you say it.”

Time stood still in the flicker of the candle flame.

“You.” A whisper, a bolt from the heavens that flayed the truth in naked, burning shards. “I want you.”

You let out a shaking sigh. With the admission spilled to the air, you could feel yourself unbind from your casing, come squirming, needing, wanting to life. Yet still, the gap in the bed felt impermeable. You wanted him to reach across it. To rip you up by your roots and lay claim to you. But he did not move.

Tavington’s lip quirked. “Go on, then.”

Your eyes devoured him. “What?” you breathed.

“Take what you want.”

A shiver. Your hand moved, though you didn’t remember asking it to, until it found its way within an inch of his body and hung there, parted a hair's-breadth from the expanse of his breast. Hot oil pooled in your belly, dripped between your thighs. You were so, so close. Tavington watched you, gaze trained on your hand. His breath had stilled. His throat bobbed.

In the frayed threads of his restraint you recognized a craving so unsated it threatened to consume him, a craving that only you could possibly satisfy. For this, you realized, your desire did not make you weak, or vulnerable, or fragile. Because as badly as you wanted him, he wanted you, too. And that made you feel invincible.

Your fingers grazed his chest, and he tensed, a sharp breath escaping his nose. You met his eyes, swallowed, dragging across his nipple, your thumb investigating the crease under his pectoral. Tavington stared at you, into you, his lips parting as your hand drifted further, your fingers grew bolder. Underneath your touch, he was firm, his skin warm. You wanted to know all of him.

Drawing a quiet breath, you swept to his stomach, skimmed the hair there. Muscle twitched in response. You started to tremble, your neck started to sweat, and you pressed your palm into him. He was solid, like stone, pushing back just by existing. Your thumb traveled to the side, ghosted over his hip bone, and you squeezed him there, exhaling at how impervious it felt. Tavington wet his lips. His eyes wandered across your body.

Lower, lower still you moved, crawling toward the coarse patch of hair below his waist. Your heart pounded so madly you were surprised he didn't feel it against his skin. Then you brushed the edge of hair and felt the heat of his arousal. The anticipation of it made your thighs compress, made your core pulse. You stopped. You stared at your arm, stalled mid-reach beneath the sheets. Your gaze met his.

You weren’t sure what you were waiting for.

Tavington smirked, curled his hand around yours, and wrapped it around his cock.

You gasped. He shuddered. He was hard, harder than you'd even thought possible; less like flesh and more like forged iron—unyielding, pulsing with heat. Tavington tightened your grip around himself, and he hissed in pleasure, his hips bucking into your touch. Your breath escaped in a quiver; you were paralyzed, your eyes locked onto his as he guided you up, then down, allowing you feel every inch, every tiny thumping vein, every beat of his need for you.

To your surprise, the ache between your legs swelled in response. Despite the pain of your virginity’s death, your cunt was stumbling back to bed, eager and willing for a reprise. And with the way his cock felt in your hand—the silken skin sheathing the savage, pulsating desire—you would oblige it.

Another stroke, another, your breath coming faster, his eyes hazy with growing pleasure. You squeezed his shaft and felt him throb, and he groaned, jaw stiffening as he thrust into your fist.

“Knew you’d learn quickly,” he huffed.

You wanted to say something clever, but the only sounds you found were, “Uh huh.”

He released your hand, instead moving to cup the back of your head, weaving his fingers into your hair and pulling your lips to his. You whimpered, flush with heat, and his tongue slipped into your parted mouth.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You melted into the kiss, your wrist rolling, twisting as you stroked his cock. His hips moved in rhythm with you, the head pushing through your fist as if he were fucking into it. Panting, you let him lick into your mouth, let him nip your lower lip, let him tug you closer, closer, until you were just inches apart, and your body suddenly felt all too restricted by the layers of clothing swaddling it. If you weren’t so captivated, you would’ve thought to remove them.

Then you skimmed your thumb up the underside of his cock, over the head, and he groaned into you, driving into your hand until you connected with his stomach, and you promptly forgot everything that you’d ever thought about before that moment.

Tavington’s nails scraped your scalp, his mouth moving hungrily over yours. Humming with satisfaction, you stroked him again, twisted your wrist, swept over his head, this time catching a bead of fluid on the pad of your thumb.

A memory: his own thumb on your leg, the collection of your blood and his essence, his smirk as he led it between his teeth. Your heart hammered between your thighs. You broke the kiss with a breath.

His lips red and flush, he watched you, entranced as you released his cock, brought your hand to your mouth. Keeping your eyes on his, you pressed your thumb to your lips and dragged your tongue up the pad, gathering his seed into your mouth. It was warm. Salty. You shivered as you swallowed it.

The man across from you beheld you as if you’d embodied lust itself. And then, before you could display even an ounce of pride, he lunged, body caging yours to the bed. His hands ripped at your bodice, his breath uneven.

“My, my,” he muttered, “I was right.” Tavington jerked your limbs like a doll’s as he tore your clothes free. “You are a glutton.”

You were transfixed, cunt tingling with something between fear and excitement. “Yes,” you said, allowing him to lift your hips to pull your petticoats from your waist. “I am.”

Having stripped you to your shift, his hands slid up your thighs, peeling it up your body and over your shoulders until you flopped, naked and exhilarated, to the mattress. Tavington loomed above you, his hair cast like a mane around his shoulders, his gaze glittering like cracked sapphire. For a moment, he looked as if he were about to speak, but then thought better of it and lowered himself on top of you.

“Oh—” you went to say, before his mouth smothered yours.

The sensation of his chest, his stomach, his thighs; of the smooth, addicting warmth of his skin; of his hands holding you still and his cock wedged between you both—it engulfed you, and you threw yourself into it, your hands roaming his back, grabbing at every part of him they found.

Tavington’s tongue slid over yours, earning a moan, resurrecting gooseflesh. You undulated underneath him, wanting to mold your body to his. His muscles hardened, he laid his weight onto you, his cock slipping between your thighs, its mere presence making your clit twitch with longing.

With a growl, he broke the kiss and found your bruises, teeth retracing their composition. You whined, scratching down his back, and he tensed, biting harder, moaning into your throat. His hands grasped at you, learned you, sought every place where you began and ended, until one caressed the heat between your legs. A single finger slid between your folds, coating itself slick.

“William,” you whispered, before you could even think his name. At this, he nipped at your bruises, teased your sore entrance before easing that finger into your core. “Ah!”

“Hm?” He pushed in deeper, exhaling as he felt you clench around him.

“It—that…” You squirmed at the pain, uncertain if you wanted more or less. “Nothing,” you replied. “It just hurts.”

Tavington’s finger curled cruelly inside of you, his breath leaving in a quiet laugh. “No sweeter words to my ears.”

Burying his face in your neck, he pulled his finger free and raised his hips. You were unable to speak, barely able to breathe before he’d prodded your cunt with his cock and started to spear you open. You choked, your arms winding around him, clinging to him like a bird to a cliff face, the pain almost as agonizing as the first time. The sharpness of it shook you, each inch making you quake, the stretch forcing you to stifle a wail.

“Shh.” His voice surrounded you, became the only grounding force outside of what you'd captured in your enduring embrace. “I doubt you'd want Pettis to become curious about what he's missing.”

You sank your nails into his back. “Pettis would—ah—die for that particular curiosity.”

“Treat him—” Tavington tensed, groaned into your ear. “Hell—treat him like a cat, then, would you?”

“If he's anything like a cat,” you said through gritted teeth as Tavington slowly withdrew from you, “then his curiosity would end all nine of his pathetic lives and still leave him unsatisfied.”

“So ferocious,” he muttered, pausing. “And yet here you are, screaming at the end of my cock.”

You snorted. “No, I'm—”

Smirking, he slammed in to the hilt. You screamed.

The strokes started deep, each new thrust prying free the scabs of your time apart, and you closed your eyes, suspended in sensation like water. Your hands scoured his back, felt the effort of his desire, and his mouth found your throat, kissing, nibbling what it could find. Sweat built between you, his hair tumbled into your face, and you wanted to feel him, all of him, wanted to know his body like it was your own.

You bit your lip, reached below his waist, groping until you latched onto his ass. It flexed in your hands, tightened and rolled with every pump of his hips. The reality thrilled you, flooded you with need. You squeezed him, and he huffed, shifting his legs so he snapped harder, faster into you, earning a stuttered cry as you rocked with the force. Pain, pleasure—the delineation fogged. As long as he remained inside of you, they occupied the same space inside of you, too.

His hips pistoned, he panted into your neck. You could not remember what you said, if you said anything at all. You remembered coiling your legs around him, hiding your wails in his shoulder, until the pressure became too great. He nailed something deep in your core, and you strangled the urge to scream by sinking your teeth into his flesh.

Tavington reared back, slammed a palm into your throat, and as your head snapped down to the pillows, you glimpsed a bead of crimson welling from the little red crescent above his collarbone.

“If you wish to behave like an animal,” he grated, gaze empty of mercy, “then you’ll be fucked like one.”

He ripped free from you, snatched your waist, and flipped you onto your stomach as if you were made of cotton. You sobbed, head spinning faster than your heart, pillows buffeting your face. Like a ravenous wolf, he kneeled behind you and jerked your hips into the air. A pleased hum escaped him as he smoothed his hands over your ass, down your back as it arced to the bed. Then, with a grunt of relief, he split you apart again.

The next moments blurred into a fever of passion. Tavington behind you; his hands seizing your thighs; the rolling cant of his breath in desperate resolve; his hips smacking yours; the lewd slap of skin; the quake of your connecting flesh; your body bound to his, bound to bear the furious punishment of his cock.

He fucked you like he needed to, like a parched man plunging into water, like he wanted to silence a terrible, screeching piece of himself that could not stop wanting you. He groaned, growled, gasped from his chest, his cock pounding into you with no concern for your pain, its only duty to use you for every ounce of pleasure that it could fuck out of your cunt.

You had become lost to the room, liquefied under his influence. Every breath ricocheted within you, every sound escaped as a wanton babble. You scrambled for the sheets, the pillows, reached toward the headboard, seeking something, anything to ground you in the storm of bliss. Nothing worked. You spiraled, untethered.

“Oh, God,” you whimpered, more pathetic than you’d ever sounded in your life, “Oh, God—”

Tavington laughed. “He can’t help you here, dandelion.”

You whined. Your clit pulsed, swollen beyond need. In the tempest, you reached toward your cunt, found the throbbing center, and swirled your fingers over it. Ecstasy shot through you, tightened your walls around him, all of it drawing free a fractured moan.

“Yes,” Tavington snarled, “yes—”

He pitched forward, crushing you into the bed, one arm locking around your neck, the other stuffing itself under your body and between your legs. His fingers mimicked your movement, his hips crashed into yours, the position causing him to strike a spot that whited your vision. Pleasure bloomed instantly, swarmed you like a hive.

You made to cry out, to squirm, but found the sound throttled by his hold, found yourself immobilized underneath him—nothing but a hole to receive his cock, nothing but a toy he was going to make come.

“I was—” Tavington spoke between heaving, bliss-wracked breath. His arm tightened at your neck, his fingers fluttered over your needy clit. “I was mistaken.”

You wanted to respond. But your impending climax silenced any thought, any noise outside of hallowed, wordless sobs of adoration.

“I’m not your cunt’s master.” He held you tighter, fucked you deeper. “I’m its owner.”

Nothing in the world made more sense to you than this. You hooked onto his arm, tugged at it, inhaling air and exhaling nonsense. “Yes, William, yes, yes—”

“Hell,” he hissed, spitting your name. “Come off, then. On my cock.”

Your addled mind required no further instruction. His fingers found the fracture point, and you flew over the edge, contracting around him with a cry. Your cunt milked him, your nails gouged him, and you convulsed, drowning in rapture. Tavington crushed your throat, breath ragged, dragged into his own peak by your pulsing cunt. Just as you descended, he jerked free from your core, thrusting between your soft, warm thighs. Once, twice, and with a choke of bliss, he broke.

His teeth tore at your shoulder, and between your legs, you felt his cock throb as he spilled himself, again and again, into the sheets. Haunted by the ripples of fading orgasm, his hips stuttered, and in your own aftershocks, you trembled with him. Finally, you both collapsed, his weight a sweltering comfort on your tender skin.

Drool covered your chin, sweat stained you from forehead to ankle, but you had absolutely no other care in the world. In fact, you figured, you might be content to lie here forever, attached to William Tavington’s cock and perpetually free of thought.

You hummed happily, and Tavington released you, letting your head plop onto the pillows. Above you, he grunted, sat back on his heels, but you remained still. Moving was not an option for you. You were fairly certain you’d lost all of your bones somewhere in the room.

As you settled into the bed, the evidence of his climax smeared your legs. You went to wipe it free and paused, gathering it on your fingers. Curious, you brought them to your face, grinning as you observed the strings of his seed web between them. Something about it, in your half-lucid state, delighted you. You felt you’d earned it.

That earning had come at a price, too: you shifted, and seethed in discomfort. You wondered if Tavington had somehow managed to shove a mace up your cunt in the interim.

He’d left the bed at some point, and you eased around to see him at the basin, wiping himself clean with a rag. Shadow threw the musculature of his body into relief, the edges of his figure glowing with sweat. Tendrils of hair pasted to his forehead, and he cleared them off before turning to return to the bed. He stopped at the candle.

“Now you go to blow it out,” you mumbled. You caught his eyes, felt your heart skip. Realized in the moment that he snuffed it that he’d known you’d come to lie in the bed all along.

Bastard.

What did one do, in the quiet of post-coitus? You imagined that those in love might hold each other, nestle together under the blankets. But the thought of wrapping yourself around him like you were squirrels in winter made you want to throw your skin to the floor. You squirmed to the edge of the bed, staring toward the wall as he slid in next to you, sight adjusting to the night.

The sky glittered beyond the window, silver light dusting the room. Silence grew heavier with each passing moment, but you found yourself unable to speak, less able to move. To crawl underneath the covers and entrap yourself in the boundaries of his body heat would be to permit William Tavington to a level of familiarity that no one could be privy to but family itself.

How bizarre to feel this way when you’d just had him inside of you. But acts of sex, you realized, held far fewer stakes to you than acts of sincerity.

Yet the chill of your evaporating sweat, the cooling of his seed underneath you made the air feel like ice. You’d already decided that you would not be subjected to discomfort to spite only your own pride. Just as sex did not equal sincerity, sharing a bed did not equal intimacy. So you capitulated, and pulled the sheets over your body.

To your surprise, the warmth didn’t feel imprisoning at all. It actually felt rather nice.

You wondered what you would say to who you’d been in May, before you’d met Colonel William Tavington. You wondered if that woman would even understand why you’d done what you’d done. If you’d done it for any reason other than desire, she would. But in this moment, you couldn’t discern the end that justified this means.

Because, truth be told, you did desire William Tavington. And in perhaps even bolder truth, you didn’t fully, totally, completely hate this man who’d left you a ruined mess.

Though, to be fair, you hadn’t been the single victim this evening. You remembered teeth, blood daubed like ink across his skin, its message taking shape: ruined as you may be, he wasn’t the only one who could leave his mark. Of every truth you’d had to face, this one was the most palatable—he’d been yours, too.

And in, perhaps, the boldest, most naked truth of all, you found yourself curious about him.

“Do you have friends?” you asked.

A pause. “I beg your pardon?”

You frowned. “What, is the concept that foreign to you?”

“I simply find myself wondering why you even ask.”

“I regret my folly of curiosity already,” you replied, shifting further away from him.

Tavington exhaled. The mattress shifted. “One,” he said. “Perhaps.”

You snorted. “Perhaps does not imply the confidence with which I'd expect to call someone a friend.”

“Then perhaps I don’t,” he said.

“No?” Flipping over, you found him turned on his back, gazing into the empty air. “You have no one you talk to? Confide in?”

He looked at you, brow raised. “I have no need to.”

“Not even when Cornwallis is excoriating you for one thing or the other?”

At this, you spotted a true, conspiratorial smirk on his lips. “Yes,” he said, looking back to the ceiling, “you've come to learn there's a certain burden to the weight of his opinion.” His eyes narrowed in amusement. “What would you have said to him if I hadn't stopped you?”

“Well…” A grin fought its way onto your face. “I may have been about to imply his wife deliberately found a permanent way to escape the weight of his opinion.”

His smirk grew, cracked into a genuine chuckle. “He can't have wounded you so terribly.”

“That—” You held your tongue for a moment, then realized you didn’t care. “He's a blithering, myopic half-wit with the insight of a bloody olive. He has no right to lead an army.” Sneering, you added, “Probably couldn’t land a shot if the target was hung around his neck.”

Tavington stared, his expression inscrutable. If you didn't know better, you would've confused it for fascination. “Hm.” His eyes were sterling in the starlight. “You may be accurate on at least one of those accounts.”

For some reason, you felt flush. “I know that.” You averted your gaze. “Anyway. I would find taking orders from him repugnant.” With a shrug, you added, “I’m surprised you don't wash your hands of the war and have done with it.”

He frowned. “Wash my hands of it?”

“Yes,” you said, pursing your lips. “Go back home to England or whatever you call the hole the demons spawned you from.”

“Interesting you choose to speak so confidently about the short-sightedness of the general.”

You laughed. “What do you mean?”

“This war is my home,” he replied, as if it were plainer than the rising sun.

You blinked, face screwing in confusion. No friends, no home? This was hyperbole.

“You have no one you wish to see?” you asked. “No dreams of what you’ll do in days of peace?”

Tavington snorted. “I dream of nothing,” he said, “I wish for nothing.” He spoke with such finality that it stilled your tongue. He glanced at the window, back to you, before resting his head on the pillow again. “Without our victory, I have no hope or need for any of it.”

You studied his face. It was not one of a man tormented by sadness or beguiled by the romanticism of war. And this in itself utterly baffled you.

Without your family, without the ones who loved you and you loved in return, the outcome of the war was meaningless to you. Your country’s liberty held no value if Grace or Papa could not be present to witness it. Your own life hardly held value—who were you if not Grace’s protector? Who were you if not your father’s daughter?

The thought of the world without them opened a void in your chest. You had at least two people who cared if you lived or died. And you’d unwittingly mocked the man you shared a bed with about having no one. And then, to make matters worse, he’d rewarded you for it.

Apparently, even the most vicious of creatures could feel shame.

“I'm…” You held your breath, hoping the words could escape on an exhale. “William?”

He sighed. “Yes?”

“I apologize for what I said earlier.”

Tavington glanced at you, unimpressed. “The list of words you've spoken to me that would warrant an apology approaches the length of a treatise,” he replied. “You'll have to specify.”

Chewing your lip, you turned over the specificity in your mouth like marble. It felt heavy and cold on your tongue. But you needed to spit it out. “When I said, uh… That no one would care. If you lived or died.” You cleared your throat. “That was cruel.”

His brow furrowed. “That?” Scoffing, he turned to his side, his back facing you. “Why apologize for speaking truth?”

You stared. He’d said it without an ounce of self-pity or a flicker of concern. Not an edge of dispute was present in his tone. To him, it seemed, this was the simplest fact of his life—simpler, even, than his own name, and just as intrinsic to his existence.

William Tavington: the man nobody loved.

The phantom of your shame sank to your stomach. You swallowed, turning over, gazing out of the window again.

Stars mingled among a smattering of feathery clouds. Aches from your evening dulled to a hum. The beat of your heart, the cadence of your breath, the distant warmth of his body feet away from yours—you weren’t sure which of these finally lulled you to sleep.

[mythical-lotus]

Homemade Bitter Rabbit Part 3!!

(First Post)

Here is how he looks thus far!!

I know there's been a decent jump in how much I've gotten done, so I'll detail everything!

I'll try and go in order of what I did

1) I finished painting and sealing his eyes like I said in the previous post, and reattached them with glue.

2) I gave him a small white bunny tail that helps him sit properly, so I did Not have to alter his legs like I previously thought

3) I sewed his ruffled white shirt, which is fully removable and buttons up the back. I really Really like this shirt, and I'm tempted to sew one for myself because I enjoyed the process so much

4) I made his little waistcoat which!!! I'm so happy with!! I've had the fabric for literal years, and it was my mother's before it was mine, so I'm thrilled to finally put a section to use. It's lined with a shiny grey fabric, and has six buttons on the front that are fully functional. I also sewed button holes for the first time, and while they are not the neatest, I'm pleased.

5) Next up was his eye patch, which I made from foam, covered in fabric, and sewn together with a purple thread so it was slightly more visible. The strap is sewn at the back rather than tied like Ciel usually has it because the ribbon I used was quite thick. I'm not sure if I like the ribbon, considering how prominent the bow at the back is in the series, so I may change it out eventually, but it stays for now.

6) His neck ribbon 💜 not much to add, but a very Very lovely detail that fits under his ruffled collar

7) the hat!!! Which gave me so much grief??? I made like three versions before I was completely happy, and I'm still iffy on this one. It's held in place by pipe cleaners and a quilting pin, which makes it removable but also. Y'know. There's a needle and wires in his head, which isn't very cuddly. While I plan for this to be a display doll, I still want to be able to safely hold it without fear of stabbing myself, so I'm open to any suggestions from people lol. Finally, I had some small fabric roses and a small thematically fitting broach pin that fit well on the hat

--Next I plan to make his cape, which will have the same fabric as his top hat - black on the outside with the blue fabric as an inner lining. I also plan to add a black lace trim around the collar and a large bow. Stay tuned, because after that, he should be completely done!!!

[bi-zemo]

curiousity - tate langdon x male reader

tate hates that students moved into the house, but the guy that moved into his room may be able to help him with something.

based of the british concept of student houses (aka bunch of students rent a shitty house together while in uni) idk if americans have those but idc, reader takes drugs btw, bottom tate

crossposted on ao3

The house being turned into a student house was a decision hated by the ghosts, young people moving in and out every year bringing with them mess, drugs, drinking and parties. The ghosts had no privacy and the students were so busy or so high that they couldnt be haunted out. Tate was of the opinion he had gotten the worst deal, yes he enjoyed being out in the open during the many house parties but the current resident of his room was arguably the worst yet. Every other night, every night when there was a break from college, the resident of tates bedroom would bring someone, or on occasion multiple people, into what tate considered his space. They would take pills or drop acid or snort something and that was when tate would leave, right as a tie or sock was slung over the doorknob. It pissed him off, that sort of thing happening in his room, he wasn't exactly the virgin mary himself but the amount of guys going in and out of that room was disgusting. The fact that it was men really didn't help the students' case in tates eyes, there were enough dead queers in the house without alive ones moving in. He was curious though.

I walked through the house, squeezing past people in the stairwell and struggling up the steps as the tab I had dropped nearly an hour ago made each step warp and move. “Need some help sweetheart?” I relaxed my grip on the bannister and turned to the familiar voice, the guy who I had been seeing occasionally standing behind me. “I'm good, i think, you’re free to come up if you want though.” I smirked slightly, trying not to laugh at how the taller mans usually beautiful features had become disproportioned. my arm was gently grabbed and I was led upstairs, the people thinning out as we headed to the bedrooms. “Let me guess, acid” “Yeah only a tab tho-” I turned only to find he had disappeared, the darkness feeling so much more terrifying with the psychedelics fucking with my vision. “Looking for someone?” I whipped around facing down the landing again, except now there was a man staring darkly at me, his figure somehow still in the ever changing room. “My friend, he was just here..” “Probably just drunk, or on something knowing this place, you going somewhere?” “Yeah, was going to bed,” I felt uneasy in the darkness, especially with the man's dark eyes staring into me. I longed to be back in the party downstairs. “I can walk you to bed if you want” “I think i can manage” i was becoming less sure of that, the man somehow amplifying the effects of the acid while still remaining perfect. “You sure about that love? Whatever you've taken seems to be making it hard to walk” “It's just,” i attempted to walk a straight line “the floor keeps moving, that's all” The guy grabbed my arm where my friend had before and led me along the hallway, stopping right outside my door despite the fact that i hadn't told him where it was. I was caught off guard by how quickly we had traversed the seemingly lengthened hallway. “You can uh, you can come in, i think i have some wine under my bed, or like some beer maybe” The man smiled and opened the door, stepping in like he was already at home in my small room. He settled on the mess of quilts and pillows that was my bed, almost lounging. “I’ll have whatever, don't think you should though not sure how it'll interact with,” he gestured at my current state. “Yeah, lemme just,” I got on my knees, rooting around under my bed until I found the bottle of cheap wine I had hidden from my housemates under there. “Didn't expect you on your knees so quickly,” he joked, making me feel less uneasy around this almost stranger. I laughed quietly handing him the bottle. “You owe me, its my last bottle.” “Ill be sure to bring one next time i'm here.” “Good to know you’ll be back” The guys eyes glinted at me as he uncorked the bottle and took a swig, his adams apple bobbing as he almost chugged it down. “Thirsty?” “Just tryna catch up with you.” I stood up flipping on my leds with the remote from my bedside table and tugged my hoodie off, chucking it on a nearby chair. “Why is that?” I settled on the bed next to him, slouching down and staring at the ceiling as colours swirled around my bare lightbulb. I felt him shift and his face came into view. “Well from what i know about you, being fucked up makes this better.” And with that he kissed me, soft inexperienced lips almost aggressively connecting with mine. I wound my hands into his soft hair, the acid making his short breaths deafening, and he crawled on top of me, his knee moving between my thighs. His movements were stunted, my heightened senses picking up how his hands only ghosted my clothed skin. I moved my other arm to slide the fingers under the hem of his shirt to where a stretch of skin was revealed from his shirt riding up. I felt his breathing stop for barely a second when my fingers brushed his lower back, that second taking much longer than it should. Our lips parted, a string of saliva breaking after a moment, and I opened my eyes to see him staring at me again with those black eyes. “Tate stop bothering him,” He jolted and I saw a girl standing in the doorway, her figure having the same effect of not moving as the doorway swayed around her. He quickly moved off me, adjusting his shirt hastily. “I guess I should go.” I felt almost disappointed, oddly cold without his touch. The girl had disappeared. “Whose she? You don't have to leave.” “Violet, she's uh, a friend.” an ex then, “I'm gonna go.” “You still owe me that wine.” “I know”

It was the next day and my mind was tired, the comedown not treating me well. I was pottering around the kitchen making pasta when I heard a voice. “I brought that wine” It was the guy,tate I recalled from that fever dream of a night. “How did you get in?” “Door was unlocked.” He handed me a bottle, one of the cheap brands my household favoured, and I tucked it under my arm, grabbing my bowl of pasta. “Wanna come upstairs?”

Tate could barely hold himself back, an invisible thread pulling him to the man he had only kissed for a moment yet felt like he knew entirely. The bottle of wine had been discarded on the bedside table and the guy was talking wearily about his classes or something along that vein. “So what do you study” Tate realised he should answer. “Oh, i don't go to college, dropped out of high school” The lie slipped out easily, something he had told previous owners of this room. He hadn't planned on talking to the guy again, just kissing him the night before out of curiosity, but it had felt like a bolt of electricity had hit him the moment they touched and he couldn't help but want to feel like that again, like he was alive. He found himself shuffling closer as they talked, turning his head right as the other turned his. The animated talking stopped immediately as their eyes locked.

I almost didn't realise we were kissing again, one minute tates dark eyes were staring straight into mine next his lips were on mine, more aggressive than the night before, all signs of inexperience gone. I melted into him, hands moving to grip the front of his shirt and pull him into me. This time when we drew apart we barely paused before he dug a hand into my hair and pulled me into him again. The initial shock had worn off and I started an attempt to be in charge again, slipping my tongue into his mouth and moving my hand down to his waist. I pulled away and moved to his neck, hearing barely there gasps as I gently bit below his ear. At this point I had pushed him against the headboard of my bed, my thighs straddling one of his. “Fuck” I chuckled lightly at the word, barely mumbled after my hand had slipped under his shirt and started gently caressing his waist. I could feel his breathing pause when I moved along his sensitive v line and teased the waistband of his jeans. Each touch had a physical reaction and I found myself addicted to finding a new sound or twitch. “I want to fuck you.” His dark bambi eyes looked up at me when he heard the sentence, cheeks flushed and lips slick with spit. I couldn't tell if he was batting his eyelashes on purpose. “Go ahead.” My hand went from fiddling his jeans button to unbuttoning them, pulling them down past his erection that was trapped behind his baggy boxers, he had pushed his shoes off when he sat on my bed and so his jeans slipped off easily, leaving his plush thighs to start pebbling with goosebumps from my cold room. He began pulling off his own t-shirt as I began slipping off my sweatpants and hoodie. The moment we were both almost naked I reconnected our lips, my hands exploring his warm thighs and ass, pulling him up to rest on his knees over my lap. “You're beautiful tate.” He flushed, the blush spreading down his chest. “Just fuck me already.” Such dirty words coming out of his timid blushed form made my cock twitch, and i couldn't help but follow what he said. I pushed Tate back, hearing the headboard bang against the wall as he thumped onto the bed, and tugged his boxers past those beautiful thighs, leaving kisses as I went. His thighs were soon hooked around my head, almost suffocating me as I lapped at his ass, preparing him gently and teasing out those gaspy moans. He had seemed unsure when I initially dove down but his heels pressing against my back and pulling me closer eradicated any fear that he wasn't enjoying this. His hands tugged my hair drawing me closer still. Without looking up I grabbed the lube from my bedside table, only coming up for air to read the label. I had grabbed the flavoured luckily. I squirted it onto his taint, watching him shiver as it slid over his ass before sliding a finger in and letting my mouth join it. The sweet flavour suited him. He winced slightly but still let out a groan and pulled my now sweaty hair to the point where it almost hurt. Another finger slipped in easily and I felt his legs squeeze as I started moving them gently. I moved up, still fingering him to force out the whines, and let him pull me up to kiss him. I hastily pushed off my boxers with my free hand and leant over to grab a condom. I withdrew my fingers with a squelch, causing Tate to open his eyes and look at me through his blonde fringe, his eyelashes fluttering again. I rolled the condom on and lined myself up, leaning into tates cold neck as I pushed in. The noise he made was unforgettable, like a combination of a gasp and a deep groan, i rocked my hips slightly as i eased in my full length. A moment later I grabbed his left thigh and pushed his leg up, allowing me to bottom out with a sigh. “Fuck, holy fuck” His head was thrown back as he said this, his throat bared and his eyes shut gently. I pushed his other thigh back until he was almost folded in half and began thrusting, my breaths coming out in pants as his ass squeezed around me almost too tight. I could see his cock hard against his stomach, oozing precum onto the pale skin. “You’re taking me so good honey” He blushed and I saw his cock twitch at the praise. “Such a good boy.” And with that I pulled out almost my full length, thrusting back in as hard as I could and making him moan loud enough that my housemates would most definitely ask about it later. I tried the best I could to keep up the speed, enjoying watching tates beautiful reactions. He was gripping the headboard above him at this point, tears forming in his eyes and drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. “Can-” he could barely talk from moaning so i slowed, “can you take the condom off, i wanna feel-” he blushed. “You wanna feel what baby.” “I wanna feel you cum inside.” He must've felt my dick twitch then, his words coming out desperate enough that if i had been any closer i may have come. I shouldn't have, he could have an std for all i knew, but i slid out and removed the condom. Pushing back in caused tate to hiss as i hadn't lubed up a second time, but when i paused he begged me to keep going and moaned loudly as i bottomed out. The warmth was almost burning now that I could feel it fully. I moved slowly at first before the friction subsided and I could go faster again. “Fuck, tate, im close” He whined, blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, and I gave one final thrust that almost pushed him up the bed before cumming. As I rode out my orgasm I felt him clench and shudder as he came over his chest. I kept going to help him through before my softening cock slipped out and I collapsed onto the bed next to him. “I didn't realise it would feel that good” His words came out hoarse and breathless, I turned with mild surprise. “You haven't had sex with-” “With a guy, no.” I was too exhausted to comment, just rolling over and pulling him to my chest. “You took it well.” I felt him hesitantly snuggle into my chest.

Tate felt the others' breath even out and instantly made himself disappear, pulling on his clothes and moving towards the door, stopping only to fix his hair in the mirror and wipe the dried spit from his mouth. “Didn’t take you for a queer.” Tate rolled his eyes, pushing past violet. “Didn't take you for a voyeur” He ignored that he could feel the other mans cum beginning to run down his thigh.

[solkteaa]

Hiiii! How are you ?

I Hope you had a good day. I saw your post about taking requests and wanted to request something :)

So my idea was like being Marie’s s/o ( so a x reader story ) that behaves like an old person as in hobby’s and such. This is like kinda based on the comment Callie makes on Marie’s hair…

Preferably I would like a gn!reader but you do as your comfortable I don’t really care! + you don’t have to take this if you don’t want to

Being Marie's S/O, but she has old lady habits.

[Author's note; I literally forgot about this, sorry!1!!! I didn't know how to put this into a story, so instead enjoy the head cannons]

Grrr I love doing these they're so fun

MARIE, who has one of those small beaded coin pouches

She used to collect these pouches and shows them off to you, but now she learned how to make them and even made you one!

She has one for coins and one for those little candies most grandmother always had.

She mainly keeps those strawberry ones and butterscotch ones.

She munches on them before concerts.

MARIE, who has all this money and could get a fancy, brand new Bugatti if she wanted but instead has a 2011 Volkswagen that she refuses to get rid of.

When you first saw her car it caught you off guard. I mean, she's definitely pretty wealthy but it doese make since she's not pretty materialistic, given her personality. Though you'd think she'd at least get a newer model.

When you asked her about why she hasn't gotten a new car yet, she felt judged.

"If you have a problem with my 2011 Volkswagen named Beatrice, you can get out and walk."

Don't judge her car she will fight you over it.

MARIE, who sits on the patio with her little "Fish in the area wants me" mug in her hands every morning.

It's her own little ritual she does.

Every now and then she'll ask you to sit with her, which is a honor as usually she doesn't want anyone to bother her or near her when she does this.

MARIE, who bakes

this originally started because growing up she would make cakes for her parents for their birthdays. To perfect her recipes she would bake everyday until it was were she liked it.

Now it's became a habit.

Considering your her S/O, she'll randomly bake for you.

It's not too rare for you to come home and there will be a fresh batch of cupcakes or brownies waiting for you!

She'll also pull you out of whatever your doing just to taste test for her.

"Marie, I'm in the middle of a turf battl-"

"I don't care, I need you the try this icing."

Just make sure your home when she's experimenting.

MARIE, who gardens in her freetime.

she's always had a green thumb for plants, but I'd like to think the one thing she can't keep alive is orchids.

It's just simply to hard not to overwater them, or give them too much sunlight.

Worse part, they're her favorite flower.

Don't give her orchids, she'll cry.

MARIE, also has a garden in her backyard and plants out through her house.

Her worse fear is being on tour for a month or more and coming back and her plants are dead.

So she begs you to check up on them for her!

Just keep in mind, you kill her plants, she'll kill you.

You swear she gives more love too her goddamn flowers than you at times, but as long as she's happy!!

MARIE, who's bedtime is strictly 7pm.

if she stays up any longer she's a moody and slightly clingy mess.

MARIE, who crochets.

She has many quilts and sweaters she's made.

She would make some custom just for you, but that's too much effort so instead she let's you have some of the ones she already made.

She's also tried sowing.

She kept on poking her fingers over and over again and had enough.

It looked like a murder scene and she'd went through a whole pack of bandaids.

So much for those expensive ass fabrics she bought to make you something.

Never again.

[Unfortunately ran out of ideas but this was fun anyways. Thanks for requesting!!!]