#dies. or at least there is when they were loved so much and jesus christ my mom was one of the best ppl a LOT of ppl knew. she did so much

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Eps 30-33 Commentary

No meta, just reactions! I have less to say about some eps so I'm combining several episodes worth. To make up for my head-emptiness and lack of meta, I've included more pictures lmao. Spoilers under the cut!

Ep 30:

"You really are pitiful." Li Lun waking up thinking of ZYC's words oooh they did that opening line for Li Lun/ZYC lovers (me)

What a homoerotic way to give the Truth Eye

ZYC and ZYZ having their first drink(s) together here, ZYZ and Li Lun having one last game of chess here. Gay ppl will go “I know a place” and take you to a damp cave and a little stone table in the Wilderness

Oof. The apparent inherence of winning/losing in their activity of choice compared to the drinks that took place here between ZYC and ZYZ. Even with a draw, it’s competitive by nature. If Li Lun knew about the three (very intense, very intimate) toasts that came before in this very spot, I wonder how aggrieved he’d feel.

Ah well there goes the date spot /:

I’m so happy to see LZY (Bai Jiu’s actor) get to fight! His fight scenes in MTJY were awesome and he continues to impress here as well. It’s so fun to watch!

………..to revisit my question from previous commentary about when the grievances against Ying Lei will end, the answer is never ;-;

Damn…For ZYC to promise to spare Li Lun after all that Li Lun has put him through specifically and personally. ZYC really fucking loves ZYZ doesn’t he.

I’m so fucked up over Ying Lei’s last words jesus christ.

ZYC sobbing and feeling the fleeting warmth of the rock Ying Lei was just leaning against…when will the world stop taking away his family members??? His brothers???

That scene of everyone looking at Bai Jiu after Ying Lei dissipates. The fact that he's right there. And it’s like they traded one life for another. The two babies of the group. Goddammit.

Do NOT hit me with Bai Jiu’s actor singing “Broken-Tailed Bird” right now oh my god

So like…regarding ZYZ losing his demonic power, does he still count as the most evil demon of ZYC’s time? Can someone ring Ying Long and ask?

ZYC crybaby oh no I can’t believe he’s crying over ZYZ being so weakened aw I love him

My god, Bai Jiu running after Ying Lei and into ZYC’s arms has to be one of my favorite sequences in the whole show. So so good. So so painful. Between this scene, all the flashbacks, and ZYC’s reaction when he died, I’m at least glad the show is spending so much screen time and significance on Ying Lei’s send-off, even if I’m heartbroken that he’s gone. We couldn’t even have the whole family reunited for one moment.

Also have you ever seen a man so mother?

No but seriously "Cry if you want...[tears] have to do with our hearts" ZYC my healthy masculinity king!!!

This song fucking hurtssssssssss this cheese (it's buttermilk) hurts everything hurts

I’m glad PSJ gets time and space to react. Her lines about being a mortal and not being needed are so good but also ow!!! And oh WX always knows exactly what to say to her 🥹

I love everything ZYC says to Bai Jiu about each family member (like yeahhh WX is unlucky 😭 and yeaahHH PSJ does need support too) but MAN the way he says ZYZ’s name is so fucking good. The fact that it gets so much emotion across without saying a single word further as he gets interrupted. His voice and his expression both collapsing a little in that moment. Efficiency of acting strikes again.

Is it even possible for ZYC to cherish this little family more?

Yo this dramatic ass lighting on ZYZ and ZYC standing in the doorway. Why y’all need so much drama just to talk? Also oughhhh ZYC’s gaze is a mess looking every which way while discussing WX’s poison. He is such a bad liar (but he looks so good doing it). Is that why they gotta talk about this like ten feet apart so ZYZ can’t see him lying? Lmao

Okay also tho if ZYC's coming around looking like this I am not hearing a single thing he's saying:

They flashed back to the previous time ZYC held his hand out but cut away from ZYZ taking it this time. Is it bc the absolutely unfettered tension between them can’t pass censors anymore? Haha god but that shot of ZYC slowly meeting ZYZ’s eyes from ZYZ’s POV whewwww we don’t got the skinship but their gazes are kind of insane??? TJR in blue contacts is too powerful I'm shaking somebody needs to stop him.

Ep 31:

Trying so hard not to be driven a little crazy by the lapses in continuity in this show (‘: It’s just tonal and costuming stuff that are a little difficult for me to ignore, just the fact that it’s kind of apparent which scenes were filmed in what order based on their costume/styling changes + the sets, and how sometimes the tone from the previous events don’t smoothly carry over because of this. But it's momentary, I just gotta. Power through.

YO the Pei siblings sparring was so cool and for what. They should have had WX spectating instead of staring at nothing in the previous scene (-:

Damn how long has it been since they played the fun music. Also feels kind of wrong without Ying Lei though fml

Awwww Qing Geng I missed her she’s so cute!! I wasn't doing ep commentaries during her arc so I gotta make up for it here. Her actress is so talented and adorable, and her costuming in this show is stunning!! Her lashes!! Her colors!!

THE TREE BRANCHES lmfaooo ZYC what happened to being worried for ZYZ’s weak body?? We really haven't had a moment like this in so long though (':

Well I do like the reason why WZY had a fake out death, that’s pretty clever and narratively sound, but also oh god what in the AOT??? The inner cores hidden in the medicine is some odious fucking work dear lord

I also like that the endgame is coming about from what initially seemed like another small-time case. Of course the evil physician's huge scheme at the end weaponizes plague and poison and medicine.

Ayeee fun that they used the teleporter on WZY instead of as a getaway

Lmfao ZYC just standing there taking a huge hit of the poison smoke. Poor baby doesn’t watch movies and doesn’t know smoke from a bad guy always means some kind of poison

Why does poisoned!ZYC have such an incredible smokey-eye siren look I’m shook

After knowing the poison is about indulging in your greatest wishes, the first moment ZYC woke up and approached ZYZ they sure looked like they were about to indulge in something sorry ignore me

The way this is so similar to ZYZ’s imaginings where he and WX always turn around and look at the camera. The show wants censors to believe they’re looking at ZYZ but we've known all along who the third POV is here

Also why aren’t ZYC’s bro and dad in the wish illusion?

Ohh the eerie instrumental rendition of the OST when ZYC draws his sword is too good. And yesss we were so due for some more crazy dream fuckery like is this real? Is this real??

Ep 32:

The team is spread so thin )-: One man (mountain god) down and a whole town to save and an immortal villain to vanquish.

WZY's eagerness in trying to goad ZYC into killing himself while poisoned is so so sinister goddamn. I love how disturbing it is to slowly realize what he wants without any lines at all

ZYZ shielding ZYC from a huge fucking fireball with just his hand is adorable and sad:

I already normally love Li Lun's whole leaf-swirly entrances and exits but you know I cheered when he deus ex machina-ed his way here!!! With that bgm too!!!

Li Lun came back to accept ZYC into their throuple. He's had some time to think and yeah he's decided ZYC's kinda hot and maybe shouldn't die or else ZYZ will be sad.

):

ZYC's soft and anguished, "Qing Geng" when he realizes she gave him her inner core. That's my bleeding heart hero ;-;

Throuple of the fucking yearrrrrr:

Spoiler for ep 33/34 but—watching Bai Jiu watch the three of them and realize he can't do anything to help here... It would have been dangerous for him to stay, but I wonder if things could have ended differently ):

Ep 33:

Oughhhhh Pei Siheng ))): The cruel fucking poetry of PSJ, the most emotionally closed-off character, having her heart, her brother, made into her armor. And then to lose him once more.

ZYC proving time and again that his heart is entirely boundless and he'll shelter anyone from the rain and he just wants everyone to live:

LI LUN/ZYC LOVERS HOW ARE WE FEELIN'?!?

Did not expect MORE ZYC choking now that they're on the same side but yeah Li Lun is not one to let go of a good thing I get it. I'm screaming but I get it. "I'm giving you half my demonic power" yeah right just admit you like doing this dw Li Lun this is a safe space.

Literally what am I watching and also no don't mind me, keep going. Feral over ZYC dropping his hand and letting it happen.

But lmfao the way Li Lun did not need to be doing all that, like he sends his power out to ZYZ without even making physical contact. He could've just grabbed ZYC by the shoulder.

Can't believe I just keep winning:

ZYC didn't even know what Li Lun was doing putting his arms around him and he just let it happen. That's some next level trust.

Ah goodbye Li Lun, presumably another victim of the "(ex-)villains can't have good endings" brand of censorship

Oof I love that the initial horror after the seeming victory is reserved first for the simple fact that ZYC and ZYZ are separated, that ZYC can't go to him the way he was intending to. Even when it's unclear yet that WZY is still alive, just the wrongness of them being divided this way is so poignant. ZYC has such a helpless look about him when he says ZYZ's name.

Goddammit WZY saw Li Lun choke ZYC and got ideas.

Oh I love the uncertainty of whether the One-Word Spell works on ZYC or not. ZYZ's sudden and intense fear. Also though WZY tries to use ZYC dying as a deterrent for ZYZ blowing up the barrier but he's literally choking the life out of ZYC as we speak

Bai Jiu's completely unrestrained screaming and crying in pain is so brutal to listen to. His scenes go on forever. Also, the choice of having some of his flashbacks be blurred and vague in the background, once again something privately kept for the character

ZYC holding out his hand to ZYZ a third time ;-; The utter relief of being able to reach each other again paralleling that previous horror of separation.

ZYC physically feeling Bai Jiu's death oh god. We do not get a single moment of happiness and victory in this drama everything is bought with pain and returns pain I hate it here.

Also another post-finale thought (spoilers for the end of the drama)—If ZYZ remained in his weakened state, I really am curious if he would have still met the conditions of the prophecy (ZYC being cursed to kill the most evil demon of his time, if the prophecy is indeed conditional like that, of course). If that could have been a technical loophole, did Li Lun giving both of them his power and then ZYC giving ZYZ his as well basically fulfill it again? I mean, logistically speaking, without that extra power, I'm not sure if ZYZ would have been able to trigger the Baize cycle again (or whatever it is he did to save the town). So the show's final tragedy can be traced all the way back to these moments of giving out of love and protection, just as Bai Jiu being in the perfect place for his final sacrifice came about because ZYC, ZYZ, and Li Lun were trying to protect him and get him out of danger. The way love and grief are so helplessly, inevitably intertwined that one begets the other. They were all just trying to save each other.

On that completely painful note, that's 30-33! And it'll be downhill from here for the next one (-:

[astrxealis]

dear gods i adore horror tbh but i am way too sensitive to it

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

I never blamed you for loving me the way you did.

Lestat De Lioncourt x reader

Summary; Lestat De Lioncourt had a wife once. And a beautiful life. Until he lost everything. Warnings; fail marriage, blood and injuries, vampire sex, character deaths, suicide, self-hatred, penis in vagina sex, creampie, sex as a coping mechanism, child loss, grief and mourning, ANGST, hurt no comfort, BISEXUAL Lestat de Lioncourt

Word count: 11,181

(Pre-canon)

Lestat had spent decades on this planet. He had known thousands of people, been to hundreds of cities, lain with both women and men. He had fallen in love, once upon a time. And he had known loneliness. He knew it even before he was turned into this vile creature. When he had to spend his days in his cold bed as a little human child. As his father and brothers torture toy, his mother’s suffocating burden, when had to spend days in Satan’s dungeon with the dead and the undead, waiting for his final day see his god for the first and last time. The nights he prayed to God to spare his life and how his prayers turned to pleadings for his death. He begged it to be quick and painless. He wanted his mother’s comfort that he never knew. He wanted to go back to church and attend the sunday service with the people of his small town. He wanted to hold cross one more time and feel the love of Christ in his bones.

He thought about God and Jesus and his mother when Magnus nearly ripped his neck open with his sharp fangs one night. He drank so much that Lestat thought he saw a bright light in the corner of his eye. He felt his soul slip away from his body and the lightness wash over him. It was a comfort that he never felt in his entire life before. Not when he used to lay beside that tree on the hill and exchange glances with the pretty looking shepherd boy as the warm breeze danced with his own blonde curls. Not when he fell asleep with that beautiful daughter of the baker by the river, naked, arms wrapped around one another, his head on her chest, listening to her heart beats.

He had tasted blood for the first time when Magnus pressed his bleeding wrist to his lips. Lestat started to drink. He had no idea why he was drinking. It was an instinctual command coming from his body, from his very existence. He felt life come back to him. But not his soul, it was gone. He felt his flesh harden like rocks and the colour drain away from his rosey cheeks of humanity. He felt Magnus’s blood flow trough his veins, fast and burning. He felt the warmth in his chest. His fingertips hurt with the sharp nails that grew in seconds. His eyes were sore and when he opened them again, the bright colours made him dizzy. He could hear everything and everyone. He could feel everything at once. He wanted to die. He wanted to beg Magnus to stop playing with him and let him die peacefully. And he was alone one more time when Magnus died in the flames, in front of his eyes. He smelled his burning rotten flesh. Dying like him disgusted Lestat.

Over time his yearning for God’s love turned into grudge. He wondered why God let him turn into this blood thirsty monster. Yes, that was what he was. A monster trough and trough. And no one would dare to love a monster like him. Even tho the monster would love anyone in the purest way possible if he was given chance.

And he did. Lestat loved Nicolas. As much as he could at least. Nicki was a troubled man since the first moment Lestat laid his eyes on him. He thought that being with him and having countless adventures could change him and plant seeds of happiness into soul. But it didn’t. He hesitated turning him into a vampire when Nicki was begging him to do so. He could sense the consequences of doing it. But spending centuries with the man he loved convinced Lestat. Nicki sinked into his dark thoughts more. His violin played with sadness and sorrow more than ever. Lestat felt his darkness in himself. He could not hear but see Nicki’s feelings in is empty looking eyes. He felt the guilt filling his heart as his first love was turning into someone he didn’t know. Armand’s presence wasn’t helping at all.

Lestat never thought about being loyal to his spouses when the world was full of fruits in different shapes and colours and tastes. There was so much to explore in his infinite life time. Armand was a capturing thing. With his eyes looking into his soul and reading him like an open book. Armand was offering so many things to Lestat that no one ever could. He yearned for the care and affection from Armand. He wanted to drink from him, lay with him and taught by him how to survive, live with the nature of a vampire. But being with Armand in front of the eyes of Nicki pushed the poor boy into madness more and more every passing day. Lestat was hungry but not for the destruction of the ones he loved.

He left Paris with his mother. He had left Nicki and Armand and the theatre. Only to receive the news of Nicki’s death. He fell onto his knees when they sent his violin to him. He touched the places where Nicki’s fingertips traced over. And he played it for the last time to feel his lover again. It didn’t matter if he was feeling Nicki’s love, rage or sadness. He only wanted a piece of him. His lips trembled when he played his favourite melody. The melody Nicki would play for Lestat after the moments they spent in each others arms, tasted one another and explore the corners of pleasure. He remembered that fearless little boy that he met with back in the day, when they were both humans. He remembered the shy glances of Nicki when he was looking at Lestat’s eyes, lips and every detail on his face. He remembered the moments they danced together and his mother would sing for them. He remembered their last happy moments. Tears of blood flowed down his cheeks and stained his white shirt.

He was alone again when his mother left him. He felt unlovable. Even his own mother couldn’t stand his presence. How could anyone in this world would love a man like him? By that time he had forgotten how it felt like being close to god and feel his love. He knew that God left him when he was turned into a seed of devil. He wanted to scream and shout and tell God that he never had a chance to choose. If he could he would choose God over everyone and everything without a second thought. Therefore Lestat knew believing in something higher and more powerful than you was a great comfort and happiness a man could ever have.

He traveled for years after his mother left him. He wondered around the countries, saw humans kill one another, cheat on one another, trick one another and destroy one another. He saw that it was not only him that was hungry for something he couldn’t name. Then his bright greyish blue eyes found the figure of a little human being in the crowd, dancing with a beautiful smile on her face. His eyes watched you for the whole dance. He heard your fast breaths, how they go trough your delicate nose and reach to your lungs that were still fresh and youthful compared to his rotten body. He saw the drops of sweat sliding trough your temple, your hair damp and the braid crown that was about to fall off. He heard your laugh, full of life and joy. He saw your skirts fly off as you tap your feet on the floor with your human strength. Your dance made him smile. His smile widened as you kept dancing and laughing. He felt like he never saw something or someone more alive. He felt a warmth in his chest. So different from the one felt when he first drank Magnus’s blood. It was type of warmth he felt when he was still human, when he had fears of a human and desires of a human.

He took you into his arms as you were still dancing. The dance floor was crowded as you felt his hands on you. You turned around and saw the most beautiful pair of eyes that you ever saw in your entire life. It felt natural to be in his arms, to be close to him and smiling at him. Lestat looked into your eyes as both of you danced trough the song. You didn’t want this song to ever finish. His body was pressed against yours and it felt like you were the only ones in the dance floor, in the world. He felt your gentle hands on his arms, going to his shoulders. It felt tingly and he realised how much he missed this human feeling. He laughed when you accidentally stepped on his feet and his laugh sounded more beautiful than thousand melodies that you ever heard. Which musician could ever write a song that sounded like his joy? Who could ever be the inspiration and make any musician to write it?

You watched his blonde long curls shine under the colourful lights. The thought of running your fingers trough his curls sent shivers down your spine. Lestat shook slightly when he heard your thoughts. You didn’t think about laying with him right away or take advantage of things that he might offer you. You only wanted to caress his hair. Something his mother never did. He closed his eyes and leaned down to your neck. The flavour of your blood filled his nostrils in seconds. He felt dizzy and wrapped his arms tighter around you. You felt his lips ghost over your skin and you had to hold onto him.

“Wait for me, ma cherie.” He whispered and you opened your eyes. Your arms were on the air, hugging no one. You felt coldness wash over your burning cheeks.

“Wait for me.” You heard his voice again. You turned around but he was no where to be seen. Your hands held your long skirts and put the strands of hair behind your ear. People around you kept dancing as you walked out of the dance floor with shaky legs.

Lestat watched you for the rest of the night from far afar. You didn’t dance again or laugh. You sat down, sipped on your drink, answered question when they were referring to you and looked for him with curious eyes. He felt sense of pride in his heart. Not because a mortal girl was mesmerised by him but because it was you that was mesmerised by him. You were not his prey of the night. He could fill that place with someone anytime, anyone could be his meal tonight. No, you were meant to be alive, and you were meant to be by his side.

For eight long weeks he watched your every step. He watched you wake up every morning, have breakfast with your family, attend your daily lessons, sew with your lady friends, read your books by your window and think about him. He could hear your sweet dreams about him, even when he was in his house. You were waking up everyday, hoping to see him somehow. You thought about telling your mother many times. Maybe she would’ve known about that otherworldly lord that attended the party in the gambling club. He watched you blush like a cherry in summer when one of your mother’s friends pointed out that you were zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts pretty often, just like a young lady in love would do. Your mother laughed it off as you kept your eyes on the floor and your thoughts on Lestat.

He watched you go home that day. Slip away from the heavy layers of your dress, undo your beautifully braided hair and lay on your back on the bed. Your room was lightened by the few candles on your desk and nighstand. He could hear your heart beating fast as you pictured his eyes again and again. Oh how beautiful he was. As if carved by God himself carefully within the image of an angel. You could feel that weird, tingly sensation in your stomach when you remembered his lips on your skin. Lestat smiled softly as you drifted into sleep thinking about him. And he was in your room. He walked to your desk first and looked over the poetry books you were reading, and the some poems you tried to write. A little poet i have hear, Lestat thought.

He walked to your bed. His hands traced over your neck to your chest and lastly to your stomach. His touch was so soft and light, he could feel you hardly. But he could feel your warmth so clearly. He could feel it even with just being in your room. He tried to remember the last time he felt the warmth of humanity in him. Nearly two centuries. He sat on your bed and looked at your sleeping figure. You looked so peaceful. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to sleep for night without all those memories haunting him? He listened to your heart beats for a moment and the way your eyes were moving slightly during your sleep. He leaned over you, to your neck. He inhaled deeply as his lips were close to your skin. For a moment he feared that his cold lips would wake you up but you didn’t open your yes. Your blood made his mouth watery. He was so hungry. For blood yes, but he was hungry for something more. Something that could make him feel alive after two centuries of being dead. Something that would make his heart beat faster with excitement again.

He wondered if God was looking down at two of you in that moment. If he was, would he let Lestat to defile one more of his human children? If yes, why? Wasn’t it both torture for Lestat and them? He had the blood of thousands on his hands. And there was no soap or water in this world that could wash it away from him. He was carrying all his victims within himself. They were in his veins, staining his fangs.

He laid his body on top of yours slowly, gently. His broad shoulders blocked your eyes and his legs trapped you between them. Your eyes opened wide with the pressure on your stomach. First you could only see darkness, then you felt a cold hand against your cheek.

“Don’t be afraid, mon cœur.” He whispered. Your fast breathing calmed in seconds. He looked down at your face and your gaze met with his own. You looked divine under the moonlight, under him. The way your eyes were still half open, in the grasp of sleep. And the way your cheeks were flushed with shyness and excitement. But not fear. His eyes found your lips lastly. Your lips that were slightly open, sucking in little breaths, looking all soft and warm. Lestat felt your hardened tetes peaking trough your nightgown, pressed against his tough chest.

You saw his bright blue eyes go darker with lust and his teeth grow into sharp fangs that only a wild animal would have. You felt his sharp nails digging into your skin and make you bleed. You both hissed as his fingertips got covered with your blood. He snarled just like an animal as the smell of fresh blood surrounded his very being. Your body trembled and you held onto his arms tightly

“Are you going to kill me?” You whispered. You did not feel horror, or rage or sorrow. You were only exited as he held you in his arms. Lestat smiled softly at your question. He pressed his nose against your cheek and inhaled your scent one more time. Your humanly, sweet smell made him dizzy. He felt an unfamiliar sensation down below his stomach.

“No, I will give you life. Better than the one you have.” He said and bite down your neck. First thing you felt was a sharp pain that made your neck go numb. You could not move, rather dare to move. It felt like if you moved, the pain would get worse. Lestat let his body go and laid on top of you fully, giving his whole weight. You opened your legs and welcomed his slender figure. And for the first time in decades, Lestat felt like he was home.

The wound that his fangs made on your neck started to burn when he licked and played with it with his tongue. The tears filled your eyes as Lestat laid his head on your neck. He kept drinking from you, slowly, taking little sips with the tip of his tongue, still breathing in your scent. His arms were wrapped around you and you could feel him all over you. He felt himself harden against your hips. He had to do it. He had to put an end to his loneliness.

He slashed his wrist with his nails, deep enough for him to bleed. Then he pressed his wrist against your lips. Your slowly closing eyes opened up at once as the strange taste of blood hit your tongue. Lestat shifted his position to open up the breaches of his trousers. He watched you drink him up hungrily as he lifted your skirt up to your waits. You felt his cold fingertips tracing over your bare stomach and thighs. His blood tasted sweet. Sweeter than the liquors you tasted in the balls, sweeter than the sherbets in the centre of the candies you ate, sweeter than the tropical fruits that your father bought very rarely.

You felt your whole body burn in need, in lust. You felt the buzzing sensation in your brain and your ears ringed. You pushed his hand away and pressed your lips against his own. You had to have him. It was a primal instinct that made you think so. Lestat held your back and positioned himself against your leaking entrance. Your warm walls welcomed him. You were sweet, warm and wet. In that moment it felt like it was all he ever needed. You tasted each other’s blood on your lips as his tongue explored your mouth. The he pushed you back and pressed his wrist back onto your lips. He wanted you to drink, cure your thirst and hunger with him.

He thrusted into you hard and deep as you kept drinking and drinking. He had to tend to you, he had to care for his fledgling. You were his. From head to toe, you belonged to him. Magnus had never claimed him as his own. His mother had no maternal instinct for him. He belonged to no one in this entire world. Nicki was in his own little world despite the love Lestat gave him. And Armand would never belong to anyone. Oh but you, you were perfect for him. Your walls tightened and it drove him over the edge. He ripped his arm away from you and held your face. You whined in need for his blood. His length went deeper and deeper into you as your shaky breaths hit his face.

He heard your heart sync with his own as he looked into your eyes. Your face was covered in blood as you moaned in pleasure. Lestat wanted to get lost in you. He wanted to be buried in you. He spent himself in you with one last thrust and felt your walls tighten more than before as you choked on your breaths and held him tight against you. He looked down at you and saw your thighs and his pubes sticky with blood. I had claimed her in every way possible, he thought.

He let you lay back down as he laid himself on top of you. You tried to catch your breath and he laid his head on your chest, between your breasts. Lestat kissed your skin, his lips left marks of blood on you. Then he felt your hands in his hair. Your fingers played with his lose curls that was ruined when he lost himself in pleasure. He felt your fingertips caressing his forehead and temple, gently, softly. You were still gentle with him even after what he did to you. His shoulders relaxed under your touch and he let out a shaky breath. What was he going to do now? He should’ve ask you before turning you and prisoning you into darkness. How he was different from Magnus when he just grabbed you like a piece of meet and drank your essence of life just to replace it with his rotten, blood of death?

“My family will think I coupled with the devil.” You whispered as you kept caressing his hair. Lestat’s breath hitched in his troath. He looked up to you under his lashes. He looked like a scared little boy in this light. A little boy that feared the monsters under his bed, scared of his father’s rage, scared of life and death. The tears of blood filled his eyes as he looked into your eyes. He saw the bright colour of your irises that matched your new nature. He nodded as he agreed with your statement.

“You have.” He said quietly as he avoided your eyes. He heard your small chuckle, felt his arm move as your chest rised up. You were still so calm. Maybe you were in shock after what he did to you. Poor girl, Lestat thought. I have driven one more innocent into madness.

“How come devil is so pretty then?” You asked as your fingertips trailed around his eyebrows. He stopped frowning with your touch. Then your touch continued to his eyes. Then to his nose. You caressed his straight bone. Finally your fingertips reached to his lips. Your hand brought grace to his well shaped lips. He planted a small kiss to your fingers.

“I never knew devil would look so perfect.” You whispered. As if even you couldn’t believe what you were saying. But Lestat heard you. He heard you so well that he received your compliment as a sharp pain into his heart. Growing up he had always heard that he was a pretty boy. Many of his lovers had said so even after his humanity was ravaged. But he couldn’t see anything but a monster when he looked at himself in the mirror. He had a attraction for violence. He couldn’t feel fulfilled if he didn’t kill. And he couldn’t satisfy himself if he didn’t hurt.

“You don’t know what I am. How can you say I am perfect after what I’ve done to you?” He asked his his tears started to spill from his eyes. You caught them before they could flow down his cheeks. Your small, soft smile remained on your lips. Lestat thought that he never seen someone so beautiful. He was surrounded by your smell, your beauty and compassion. He was covered in your blood and you were carrying his blood. He felt himself warm next to you. Centuries of coldness in his chest was replaced with your smile. He could feel your body calling for him, desperate for his touch and taste. There was a soreness in his troath. He wanted to scream it out.

“You have bewitched me.” You said, almost like a confession. His sharp gaze found your eyes immediately. Lestat’s tears kept spilling from his eyes as he laid his head on your chest again. He stayed in your arms who knows for how long. How could he let you go know? When you were calling him perfect, even after seeing his blood thirsty animalistic side, touching him with love and passion, carrying a piece of him in you, opening your arms for him without a question and accepting him as he is?

The next time Lestat knew loneliness was the hardest time.

You were a great companion, lover and a wife for him after the night he had you in your room, in your bed of youth and innocence. You were a brave little thing that was ready to face an army for him. He felt like the luckiest man alive when your laughs echoed trough the walls of your home. After decades he was finally living, sleeping in a house that he called home. He tried to taught you french but you were impatient and often ran away from his grasp to play his favourite melodies on the piano. He couldn’t get mad at you and watched you for hours as you played, looking at him for the whole time with a big grin on your face. He bought you the finest dresses in your favourite colours, had beautiful jewellery made for you. He loved making you happy more than everything in the whole world.

You were getting into an excited hurry every time you two decide to host a party in your home. People of your city were adoring both of you as a couple. You were so cheerful that there was no room people didn’t smile and the place didn’t lighten up as you entered. Men and women considered themselves lucky if you danced with them. But Lestat knew your first and last dance always belonged to him. Your heart and soul belonged to him. He didn’t know how many nights he pressed his forehead against yours, smiled like a teenage boy in the bliss of love and lifted you into air as your skirts flied behind you and your laughs filled ears of fortunate mortals. His heart was syncing with someone that loved him deeply. And he was so full of love, that he couldn’t remember the times he had lost himself in darkness.

He would have children with you if he could. If he was still a human. He would love to raise a boy that looked like you and a girl that looked like him. He had imagined the picture many nights as he closed his eyes in his coffin, his arms wrapped tight around you. He could see them running around the house, laughing beautifully like you. He could see them growing up and having their own lives as he grew old with you. I was so close to have a life, he thought after every single time he dreamt. The thought brought him sorrow. But he had you. It was more than enough for him.

Lestat met with your family when you two decided to get married. Your parents loved him. They called him a great gentleman with knowledge and culture. A husband fit for my daughter’s hand, your father said. But as the years went by and you still didnt have children or added wrinkle over there and there, your family sank nto silence. The letters became lesser and lesser. By the last letter, it was a dry piece of paper with few words written on it. No feelings, no longing or great love of your mother. You two attended the funeral of your father as he passed away after 15 years of your marriage to Lestat. Your mother’s eyes filled with tears and hatred as you watched your father getting buried. Lestat held you as you fought so hard to keep your tears back from spilling. You could see everyone’s eyes on you, examining you with fear planted in their heart, convinced that you are no longer the girl they knew. You tried to approach your mother and got blocked by cousins and other relatives.

“Tell that devil to leave my poor girl's body and find someone else to be the servant of satan.” You mother’s harsh voice made you step back. And Lestat could hear your heart shatter into pieces. He knew her words were referring to him. How many times I will hear the same thing, phrased differently? He thought. After the funeral you refused to leave your bed chambers for days. You didn’t eat even if Lestat hunted for you. You refused to sleep either. As the sun rose from the east and Lestat closed his coffin, he could hear your muffled cries in your own coffin. You couldn’t get yourself to sleep with him. You couldn’t get yourself to face to world. Your mind kept drifting back to the times you were with your family and how much they loved you. Lestat never wished something as much he wished to hear your thoughts and take your pain away. If he could, he would take all it of to himself. He was used to be in pain since he knew himself. But seeing his sunshine fade away was like tying his hands and feet and abandon him to starve to death.

After days, you left your coffin for the first time. Lestat’s bright eyes scanned your body head to toe. All he could see was a hungry vampire that was broken. Your under eyes were purple and your skin was paler than usual. The veins under your skin was showing trough. You could barely walk and talk as he held you in his arms and carried to the living room. Your hands fell to your thighs and he fell to his knees in front of you. His eyes were filled with concern and fear.

“Ma cherie, you need to eat something.” He said as he tried to make eye contact with you desperately. But your eyes were avoiding him by all cost. Your lips parted and some whispers left your mouth. Lestat leaned closer to hear you.

“It’s you.” He heard you say. He frowned and his mouth opened but nothing came out.

“I don’t understand.” He said quietly after a moment. You looked like a mess in front of him. And he wanted nothing more than pulling you back into his arms and never let you go.

“You never did.” You said as you finally made eye contact with him. “You are the reason of my current state.”

Lestat felt your words form into a dagger and stab him on his heart. His stomach dropped and he fought the urge to get away from you. He wanted to step away and take one more step away and one more… Your eyes were looking at him differently. There was a feeling he never felt from you before. Hate.

“You made me what I am and you ruined me.” Your voice sharp and your eyes full of bitterness. You collected all your strength to get up but it was not enough to keep you standing. Lestat held you gently before you could fall. Then he felt your sharp nails scratch him and rip his hands away from you.

“Don’t ever touch me.” You hissed and crawled away on the big sofa. Lestat’s eyes could not leave the empty space that you used to sit. He could hear your heart beating fast and he could almost taste the poison in your words you spoke out and you were going to speak out.

“You put me in a prison that I will never be able to leave. No matter what I do.” You said. Lestat looked over you and saw the tears of blood flow down your cheeks. Your fragile figure broke his heart repeatedly. He came in front of you on his knees and tried to hold your hand but you pulled away again. He sighed and did his best to hold his tears back.

“It will get better. In time everything will feel less weird and more normal. You will embrace what you are.” Your eyebrows lifted and a cold smirk appeared on your lips.

“And what is that? A murderer? A sinner? A cursed woman?” Your voice raised with each word and Lestat moved away. He turned around to avoid your eyes and words. His left hand found the corner of the window to lean down and his right hand covered his mouth. Muffled cries left his lungs as he shut his eyes tight.

“You will carry this feeling for the rest of your life.” You said and your presence left the house in seconds. Lestat did not move from his spot as he felt you going away from him. Your heart beats faded away in the night until he couldn’t hear you anymore. Me and you both, he wanted to say.

8 years.

He didn’t see you for 8 years after that night. He knew you were out of the city, far away from him. He called for you every night for a year at first. He screamed your name in darkness, hoping desperately that maybe you would hear and answer him. But you didn’t. Once his voice became hoarse, he wrote letters to your family. But got nothing back. Was it still possible for them to take you back after everything? Your mother couldn’t look at you and your siblings had nothing but fear and disgust in their eyes when they glanced at your direction. You were truly all alone in the entire world. You had no one but the person who trapped you into loneliness.

Lestat wandered around the city for days, searching for your scent, your gentle figure. You were no where to be found. He stopped going out after some time and trapped himself into his house. His coffin was full of pictures he could find of you. For nights he stared at your smiling face, frozen in those moments of happiness and joy. He missed your smile. He craved for you in every way possible. The house felt like a grave and his good old friend, the coldness was back. The memories of his youth started to haunt him one by one as he laid in his coffin during daytime. He could not find sleep when your side of the coffin was all empty.

He thought about his life before and after Magnus. He wondered if he would have a good life still if he wasn’t turned into a vampire. The thought of not meeting with you sent a gut-wrenching pain to his stomach. You’d be centuries apart, in different lives and countries. The picture of you marrying a decent man that your family found for you, wear a wedding dress for him, have his children, raise kids that looked like you and some man, have fights and love making nights with him, grow old with him and hold his hand while you greeted by the merciful arms of death made him tear up. He felt his heart pound painfully fast in his chest. A sob ripped from his throat and this time he didn’t cover his mouth. The guilt ate him from inside out. The honeymoon was over and now, he had the face the fact that he stole your whole life, your one chance of being alive, only for him to take your love for himself, selfishly and hungrily.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks urned into months, Lestat started to lose his hopes of seeing you again. Once again he was assured that no one could love a man like him. He didn’t want to stay in the house that use to be the home to two of you. Every corner was you and he couldn’t finish a day without thinking of the times you had spent together. But the small chance of you coming back made him stay. If you wanted to come back, you would love to see everything same and your husband waiting for you, Lestat told himself in the moments of doubt.

And one day you opened that door and came back. He was in the music room when he heard your heart beats. He felt like the time had frozen and his heart skipped a beat. His fingers on the piano stopped, his lips twitched with longing and tears formed in his eyes. When he saw you again, standing in front of him, beautiful as always, he wanted to get on his knees in front of you and beg you to forgive him for what he did to you. Then his eyes found the little body of the human boy in your arms. The child was maximum 4 and he was shaking uncontrollable. His blonde hair was dump on his forehead and weak breaths mixed with moans were leaving his mouth. Lestat didn’t need to be doctor to know that the boy was in great pain. And perhaps fear.

“He is going to die.” You said and hearing your voice after years made Lestat break down. He had to turn around at the doorway to hide his tears.

“Help me. Please.” Cracked noise from your sore throat was heard in the room. The boy was clinging to your dress, like a little lamb. You walked towards your husband as you held the little child tighter.

“Please save him. For me?” Lestat didn’t know if he was feeling grateful that you were back, guilty for his mistake or angry because you only showed up when you needed something from him. He looked at the boy. He was cute little thing with blue eyes like ocean and long blonde lashes that framed his doe eyes. He saw his clear tears run down his face as he coughed. An innocent, Lestat thought. An innocent dying in the arms of the woman I love.

“You can turn him. I don’t know how to. But you do. Please Lestat.” He saw your tears dripping down to the boy’s hands on your dress. The pain in your voice twisted his stomach. You sounded helpless and he whished nothing more than take this feeling away from you.

He shook his head no.

“I can’t.” He spoke. The dryness in his voice made more tears fall down your eyes. You held the boy closer to your heart. His head rested on your heart as you caressed his blonde curls. The curls that reminded you so much of Lestat.

“Yes, you can. Do it for me, please!” You were ready to beg if you needed to. There was nothing more you wanted than saving his little life. He had to live. He had to survive this filthy world and show everyone that he was strong. And maybe you would have a chance of being a mother.

“Children cannot be turned.” Lestat said as he reached out to hold you but you took a step back. You were shaking your head endlessly as tears kept flowing down your cheeks.

“Great laws forbid it. Otherwise a vampire child would live in misery.” He remembered Marius’s voice as he spoke these words to him before he sent him away. Someone under 17 cannot be given the dark gift.

“Laws? Are you serious? He will die if you don’t save him!” Your scream echoed through the walls and found his ears and heart. Your anger and sorrow shook him slightly. He knew he was walking on thin ice in this very moment. You could turn around and leave him again. And never come back this time. Who knows maybe you would find another vampire out there that could be your companion? Or turn this little boy for you to only make you happy? The thought hardened his blood and tightened his chest.

“My love, he won’t be saved if I turn him. He will live his life in desperation. For something more. Something he will never have.” He said gently as he wiped his tears away. He had to be strong. For both of you. His eyes found the boy again. He was so thin. Lestat wanted to put an end to his suffering. The boy’s eyes opened slightly and he looked at you. His fingers were shut tight over the fabric of your dress. Lestat could feel your love and care for him. You felt like you had to protect him. The boy’s big eyes found him. He looked at him with softness and hope. His eyes are full of life even when his life slips away from his body, just like hers were once upon a time, Lestat thought.

“We can be a family Lestat. He can be our son.” You said quietly. As if you feared that the world would take him away from you if they heard your words. “He looks just like you.”

Lestat didn’t look away from the boy. Yes, he did look like him. His blonde curls were just over his shoulders and his nose was small like Lestat’s nose when he was little. His mother loves him, unlike mine, he told himself.

“You and I and him. We can be happy together. We can try again.” The desperation in your voice broke his heart. You were willing to go back to him. To where you belong. Lestat wanted you back in the house, in his arms, in his coffin. He wanted you on his lips, on his skin. He wanted your fangs back in his neck and your heart on his. He wanted to be the one made you smile again and he wanted to be your dance partner in your extravagant parties. He wanted the boy to watch two of you as you danced and clap for his parents. He wanted to take him into his arms and feel a father’s strength in his bones. He wanted the pure and unconditional love of a son. The one he used to have for his father, way before he became his father’s unexplainable enemy. He wanted to see the boy become a man and be his pride.

“We are killers. A child has no place among the demons.” His words cut sharp as the boy started to cough again. The blood covered his lips as you tried to calm him down. Your own tears were spilling uncontrollably and sobs were coming between your lips. Lestat heard your irregular heartbeats.

“He cannot die.” You said between your sobs and cries as the boy kept coughing his blood out. You fell to your knees and kept his little head on your heart. His small, fragile hands were holding your hand tight. The fear in his eyes were piercing trough Lestat chest. He knelt beside you, held your back to his chest as you rocked back and forth. Both of you stopped breathing as the boy’s heartbeats started to slow down. His breaths calmed down and he closed his eyes. He clinged to your cold skin and did not let your hand go. With his last breath your head dropped back to Lestat’s shoulder. His arms were wrapped tight around both you and the boy. His long fingers intertwined with your and the boy’s hand. His decreasing temperature was slowly matching the coldness of both vampires.

“My son…” he hard your whisper. Your eyes were focused on the ceiling. Lestat buried his face in your neck when your cries filled the room. If only I could take all your pain away, he wanted to say but words did not leave his mouth. He could take your pain away, if only he made you a mother and gave you another family.

Lestat carried you to the coffin when you were exhausted from crying. He took the boy’s lifeless body and burnt it while you slept. He stayed until he was nothing but ash. He looked at the scene as the flames took him away and listened as his bones cracked and his flesh melted down. He didn’t let himself cry. It was his vilest murder. He had no right to feel guilt or shame.

He laid beside you in the coffin. You were whispering and crying still, even in your sleep. His fingers traced over your hands gently. He looked at your sleeping form and took a deep breath. Your scent filled his lungs once again after many years. His insides blossomed and he felt the life come back to his body. You were his home. It didn’t matter to him which form you were in or how you looked like. It didn’t matter if you were laughing or in sorrow. As long as you were beside him, he was happy to have you in any way. And you were back. Lestat knew he could not let you go again. Not after this night. Not when you needed him the most. He was the only one you had left with and he had no intention of leaving you alone. He was going to make you happy again. Just two of you were enough.

“You came into my life when I needed you the most. Now it is my turn to bring you joy.” He whispered to your ear and wrapped his arm around your waist. Your eyes opened as he closed his own. Your gaze traveled trough his beautiful features. He was beautiful as the first day you saw him. Years ago, in that party, where you were still innocent and human. Now I know that devil can be this pretty, you thought.

Lestat was in the corner of your mind for 8 years. You were carrying him in you wherever you traveled to. His face was carved onto your eyelids and you were too afraid to close your eyes. His voice kept echoing in your head when you killed, drank or spared a life. You played his favourite songs on the piano when you needed him by your side. But no matter how much you missed him, you couldn’t forgive him. You knew Lestat De Lioncourt loved you. You felt it in your bones, in your flesh. You carried his love in your veins. But you knew he cursed you forever. And you weren’t naive like you used to be to forgive and forget what he did to you. You were young and in love. How could you know it meant to lose your everything when you gave yourself to him that night?

You could not deny the fact that you were happy at first. Lestat gave you things no one ever did. He respected you, he loved you gently and made you feel like the only woman in the world. And you loved him. There was something in Lestat that pulled you to him. You were like opposite sides of a magnet. It felt right to touch and kiss him. Your heart craved for his heart just like your body craved for him. When he was deep in you, made you scream his name and planted soft kisses to your face, life was good. Until you started to see question marks on people’s faces. You were in peace with your fate and the things came with your new life. But everything seemed meaningless once it cost you your family. Lestat’s arms failed to comfort you when you were invited to your own father’s funeral at the last minute and saw that no one wanted you there. Not even your own mother.

You were motherless and fatherless. You were a demon who could only see the world under the dark sky. You could only stay alive if you killed humans. And seeing Lestat every single moment of your life vexed you. At the time you needed someone to blame other than yourself. You were already aware of your mistakes. And knowing that Lestat still turned you despite the fact that he knew what kind of a curse he was bringing on you, made his existence unbearable. You had to leave. You had to be alone with yourself after decades of marriage. Still, no matter where you went, Lestat was the only thing your heart ever wanted. You would always love him.

Then you found him. Leonardo. That was his name, you tried to remember. He was the son of a homeless woman that lived on the street of your small home. It was nighttime when you heard his cries. You saw his dead mother and him crying his eyes out over her body. You felt your heart shatter into pieces with the sight in front of you. He was so small and so scared. When his blue eyes found you and you could see his face clearly, you knew that you could not leave him to die. His arms reached out to you when you knelt beside him. He didn’t know why his mother wasn’t waking up and taking him into her arms. He was shaking and coughing between his sobs full of fear.

“Mummy.” He cried as you caressed his blonde curls to calm him down. He was cold and hungry and sick. I want to help you. I need to hold you, you thought as he snuggled to your chest. There was only one person who could help you. But could you go back to him? After everything that happened between you? Could you find that strength in yourself or would he take you back?

“Mummy!” Leonardo screeched in your lap in pain as his coughs got harder. His little hands were trying to hold your arms. You had to do it. Both for yourself and him. So that was now you found yourself in front of the door of your home.

You reached to hold his cheek. His breath quickened with your touch but his eyes kept shut. You were pressed against him. Your lips were nearly touching and you could feel his breaths all over your face. Your fingertips traced over his face to his neck and to his chest. His body shook. The soft touch made you both shiver when your hand slipped under his expensive shirt. It has been years since you last touched one another and you realised how much you missed him. You needed to touch him. When you pressed your lips against his, Lestat’s arms wrapped tighter around you. His kisses and biting continued to your neck and to your chest. The soft lips of your lover were sending you into oblivion. You had to be closer to him. Closer than being skin to skin, something more, something more painful, something full of love and the suffering that comes with it. Something that would destroy that pit in your stomach and be worth of all your sorrow.

“I love you. I live you. I-“ Lestat’s raggedy voice stopped as he kept kissing you hungrily. His words weren’t able to keep up with his desire. Your mind was foggy as he undressed himself first, then you. Tears were flowing down your cheeks and you were feeling his cold fingers spread the wetness between your legs. His fingertip caressed your leaking opening and moans left your mouth. You could barely see because of tears when you held his face and made him look at you. He was crying too. You kissed him. His tears and yours mixed up and found your pressed lips. The taste of blood was exquisite, vibrating, destructive.

The next thing you knew was you were on top of him, the lid of the coffin was wide opened, he was inside you, fully. You rode him to the bottom of the coffin, hard and deep as his impressive size stretched you out immensely. Your eyes rolled back when his hands groped your breasts. He was talking but you couldn’t hear him. Your ears were ringing and the pain was too great. Your moves became faster and harsher. Your sharp nails digged into his chest and scratched him all over.

“You’re crying.” Finally you heard him and opened your eyes again. It was a mess in his coffin. His chest, between your legs, his face, your body, you were both covered in blood. Yet Lestat managed to smile when he saw the unsettled look on your face. He held your waits tight and moved you back on forth gently on him. He kept caressing your body and say sweet nothings as he controlled your movements.

All the memories of your shared life passed before your eyes as you went closer to the edge. Your legs shook when Lestat’s thumb found your pearl and circled it skilfully. There was a soreness in your throat and your climax was building in your lower belly. The image of two of you filled your mind over and over again. The image of you happy. Would you be able to be like that again? You didn’t know. And learning the answer of this question scared you to death.

“I can’t.” You cried out when your orgasm hit you hard. Your body froze as Lestat kept his hands on you and reached to his climax. His dead seed spilled into you. Deep into your dead womb that was never going to be a home to a babe. Was Lestat enough for you to be fulfilled? Were you going to be enough for him when he got bored of searching for things that made him feel human, made him feel young again?

When you made eye contact again, you could see fear and doubt in his eyes. He was scared that you were going to leave him, just like everyone he ever loved. And he was not sure if it was still you in your body. He was looking for you in the eyes he saw for thousands of times and more. Yet nothing about your eyes felt familiar. Your body felt like you, your kisses felt like you, your heart felt like you. But it was almost like a death itself looking down at him in this moment. He left out a deep breath when you leaned down and laid on his chest.

His heartbeats were fast under your cheek. You turned a little and pressed a tender kiss to his chest. And another. And another. You kissed him until new tears stained your face. You hoped that you could find him again one day. You hoped that you were both humans when you meet again. You hoped that you had a life in another world, with the love of your life. You knew Lestat would find you no matter what. He would love you the same if not more. He would be yours in every lifetime until you had no more love to give.

“I’ll love you forever. Now and always. Until my last day and after.” You whispered but your quiet words reached to Lestat’s ears. He smiled sadly, his tears spilled down to his paper white pillow. He tried to speak but his voice shattered.

“And I you.” He could only say without sobbing. He shut his eyes tight when he heard you fall asleep on him. Tomorrow was going to be better. Everything was going to alright. He had you in his arms. And he needed nothing more.

—

When Lestat opened his eyes again, the first thing he felt was pain. His eyes were watering and he couldn’t even press his lips together to cover up his moans. He licked his dry, chapped lips with the last strength before he was breathless again. In the darkness of his coffin, his shiny eyes looked around desperately. He could feel the air hitting his burned body and make his wounds boil. He cried out your name. You were not in his arms. Where could you possibly be? Were you harmed too? What if you were harmed worse than him? You were younger and weaker than your maker. Lestat had to put himself together and find you, his dear fledgling. When he pushed opened his coffin lid, he saw the the wide open curtains that were usually closed. It was dark outside. The moon light was the only thing that was bright in the pitch black room.

It was only then he saw his burned body. Front of his arms, his whole chest, his thighs and his face were all covered in ashy wounds that were slowly healing. His blood red flesh was showing trough the burned skin pieces. They sizzled as the new skin was forming over them. But before he could think about his wounds, he had to find you. Why the curtains were open? They were always supposed to be shut. Just in case if any of you had to wake up when sun was still up during the day. He dragged his feet to the short, wide corridor of the second floor. All the doors and the windows were open, he frowned in confusion. His head was banging quiet like a bomb explosion. His body was aching and he was afraid. He was afraid just like the night Magnus took him from his room.

He walked fast as he could and entered the music room. You were no where to be seen. Lestat’s nose scrunched when he breathed in the strange smell in the room. He felt the smell stick onto his lungs and enter every bit of him. It was haunting and indescribable. It almost felt like he could taste it on his tongue. That strange, unpleasant, obnoxious flavour was so familiar on Lestat’s throat, yet he could find no name for it. He took few steps to his piano. His favourite tunes ringed in his ears. He could see your ghost of a fingers on the keyboard, playing all gracefully.

When he looked down, a pile of grey, powdery substance caught his attention. How could he possibly not see this when he entered the room? He got on his knees and the source of smell was undeniably found. As he touched the powder, he felt his whole body shake in horror. His eyes closed tight when the faded memory of you getting up from the coffin came back.

“I love you. I love you. I love…” the words were repeated over and over again. Not thousands but maybe hundreds and thousands of times. He could hear you. You were not in the coffin. He could hear your steps in the room. Then he could hear your steps in the corridor. You were going in and out of rooms. Lestat could hear you mumbling things under your breath. He could hear your heartbeats and your rushed moves.

He wanted to open the lid of his coffin and get out. It was probably near sunrise and you had to go back to sleeping. When he pushed the lid, something blocked his exit. He tried to kick it and punch it when he heard you play the piano and keep talking.

“I want to see the sun rise in the sky again.” You said. “I want to see the clouds on the blue ocean of time.”

He called for you but you were not listening to him. As you played the melody from start to end, the fear in Lestat’s heart grew stronger. And when your fingers stopped, he felt a sharp pain all over his body. It was something he had never felt before. The greatest pain he felt was when he was transformed. He could never forget what it felt like for the next thousand years. But this, this was different. It was coming from somewhere deep. He wanted to rip his stomach open and find the core of the pain. His coffin got filled with his dreadful scream and he heard you shout in agony. He felt the pain in every inch of his body. With one last hard kick, he opened the lid successfully. Only to be greeted by bright, warm sunlight that was glowing beautifully in your shared chambers.

His skin started to burn immediately, and it was then Lestat knew what was happening. His jaw clenched and his tears burned his wounds when he heard your screams from the other side of the house.

“What have you done?!” He shouted but you didn’t respond. The sunlight was nothing compared the pain he was in as you kept burning. He could feel his blood boil in veins as yours dried up under the daylight. You were leaving him.

‘I have loved you, with everything I had in me.’ Lestat didn’t know if you spoke aloud or he just imagined, rather wished you have said it. Maybe it wasn’t too late, Lestat tried to get up but his body was damaged enormously. He could feel the sunlight penetrate into his bones with every second he was spending in front of the open curtains. But he had to save you! He cried and tried to get up again. And again and again. Until he couldn’t hear your screams anymore.

The house fell into a dead silence in seconds. Only thing that could be heard was the silent sizzling of Lestat’s burns. He stoped breathing and he stoped trying to get up. His lifeless eyes fell onto his hands. He laid back in his coffin and pulled the lid back on with a stinging move.

It was a nightmare. An unbelievably bad nightmare. Maybe the worst one he had have been for decades. You were sleeping in your own coffin peacefully. Lestat was going to see you when sun came down and he was going to kiss your lips with a smile on his face. He was going to carry you around the house like a princess and read your favourite poems just for you. You were going to forgive. And maybe in time, you were going to forget. He was going to change and try to be someone better than who he was now. Both of you were going to be happy again, together. He smiled with excitement with the thoughts on his mind. The smell of burned flesh tickled his nose.

—

“You do not know this girl!” Lestat said aggressively as he watched Louis lay the little girl on the bed carefully. Louis’s bright green eyes were full of fear and guilt when he faced Lestat again.

“Make her like us!” He said with a bitter hope in his voice. Lestat pressed his lips together when he heard him utter those words. This cannot be happening, he assured himself hopelessly.

“Non c’est impossible. Elle est trop jeune!” Lestat said in frustration as Louis walked closer to him with hurry. Lestat's heart was pounding fast in his chest. The images of a distant memory was blurring his vision. The same eyes from decades ago were looking at him again. The same eyes that were full of guilt, sorrow and hope with an innocent child at the edge of death in the arms of the person he loved. His chest tightened when Louis kept talking, pleading to save the little girl’s life. What could Lestat do? Was he curse to live same life over and over again for the rest of the eternity?

He could never forget you. He didn’t know how long he mourned you. Days, months, years? Maybe he was still mourning you with the little box in his closet that was filled with your ashes. It took him years to find the courage to try again. And when he kissed Louis for the first time, he felt like finding light in his murky world. But guilt ate him inside out. He wondered if you would be wounded when you learned that he was capable of loving again. He tried to reassure himself that the thing he had with Louis was different than what he had with you. You would always be his wife. Your wedding ring on a necklace that was around his neck was the proof of it.

“Please I can’t have her die!” The pain in Louis’s voice broke his heart. He remembered this feeling so well that it almost hit him on the face. He remembered how it felt like to be helpless when his lover was begging him to change things, set things right and how he couldn’t do it.

“The gift cannot be given to children.” He said when his anger and fear filled him to his limit. The look on Louis’s face twisted something in his stomach.

“What do you mean? Yes it can.” Louis said breathlessly as he tried to find his strength back. All he needed was to save this girl’s precious life. She laid on the bed, unconscious, coughing out the flames silently and she was all he needed in that moment.

“The great laws forbid it!” Lestat spited out as if he had poison on his tongue. Anger appeared on Louis’s face and Lestat regretted what he just said.

“The great laws?” Louis said mockingly. He sounded bitter and every octave of his voice cut both men deeply. “She gonna die in front of us!”

The next thing Lestat knew was that Louis dragged the little girl on the flour, cried, begged, cried, fell on his knees in front of his companion and cried. Louis’s usually gentle hands found Lestat’s body, he held onto him like he was the last thing on the world.

“Please, please.” It was all Lestat could hear. And the little girl’s raggedy breaths that were becoming slower and slower.

“My beautiful little daughter.” Lestat could not swallow, could not hold his tears back or his heartbeats stable when he heard Louis’s voice shatter as he said the words. He hated how his story repeated itself. He hated how he was always the one who had to make this decision.

“Please I’ll be anything.” Louis begged and cried. Lestat wanted to curl into a ball and never wake up again. He looked down at this companion, his lover, the man who saved him, begging him to make him a father.

“Please, please, please…” It was all Louis was saying when Lestat remembered your screams after your little boy died. He remembered how yours eyes looked dead inside and even your smiles were full of grief. He remembered how you begged him and he didn’t listen to you. And then how he lost you. He was a fool to think that you were going to be alright after your son died. He was a fool to think you were going to forgive him and be happy again. And he was a fool to think that you were going to stay with him after what he did to you.

There was a no day passed after your death that he didn’t regret not turning that boy. Great laws forbid it! At what cost he had followed the laws when he was on the other side of the world, oceans away from the last vampire he had seen? He regretted his choice everyday of his last few years and he didn’t know if he would be able to mourn one more person.

He looked down at Louis and saw your crying eyes stare back at him. He looked up instantly.

“You will regret this for the rest of your life.” He said. Yet he didn’t know if he was talking to himself or Louis. Maybe both. He walked to the little girl on the floor and picked her body with ease. Poor thing was covered in burns and couldn’t open her eyes. His blue eyes found Louis’s relieved shoulders and his fangs found the girl’s small neck.

[marvelous-slut]

Rekindle - Opie Winston x Reader

Y’all I’ve underestimated just how sexy Opie is. Like, stop for a minute and look at him. I’ve literally had this in my draft forever and I’m glad to finally get her out.

Warnings: MINORS, as always DNI! 18+ ONLY! Smut head folks.

_________

You turn the engine to your car off as you finally made it to the familiar garage. Teller Morrow. It had been at least 10 years since you’d gotten out of Charming and never looked back, even sitting in the garage brought back too many memories for your brain to count. Most were horrible memories, your father Otto being arrested right outside the club house/garage. Your mother coming in late into the night, drunken and loud. Knocking over things she didn’t need but wouldn’t throw away. If she didn’t come home, you knew she was right inside the club house sobbing for your father who was constantly in and out of prison. The more you thought about the horrible memories, the more pissed off you felt yourself becoming. You decided it was time to go in and face the members of SAMCRO, find out exactly what had happened to your mother. A part of you figured she’d gotten killed due to something with the club, or maybe one of her porn costars had beaten her to death. Whatever it was, you couldn’t allow yourself to feel one hundred percent sad about it. Your parents were never really parents, who could be when they were so invested in the club life?

You walk in to the club house, not much has changed since 10 years ago. The same smell of pussy and booze, the same mug shots hanging on the wall with the exception of a few who you assumed to be members. One struck you, taking it in as you looked at the familiar face. Harry Winston.

“Jesus Christ Ope.” You say softly, before you have any time to think about what he did or if he was still in, a voice brings you out of your thoughts.

“Well look at who’s here!” Piney, it was so good to see him. Even if he looked sick with the oxygen tubing sticking out of his nose. You walk over to him, opening your arms for his warm embrace. “How you doin’ kid?” He asks, smiling largely.

“I’m good Piney, how’d you end up with that shit hanging from your nose?” He chuckles deeply, letting out a cough once he’s done.

“Lung issues, too many Marlboros I guess.” You laugh and he pats you on the back, before you can ask any questions about Opie you get your answer. He stands outside the door of the chapel, leaning up against it and seeming like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Seeing you wasn’t something he was looking forward to like the rest of the club.

“Well, glad to see you made it out for someone’s funeral.” He speaks coldly before walking out of the club house completely. Piney can see the discomfort on your face and speaks up.

“Ignore him, he’s been a real prick since Donna died.” Donna, it had been two years since she passed. He was still mad about that? You sigh and shake your head. You didn’t attend Donnas funeral and maybe you should have, maybe you should have been there to support Opie. He’d called you after it happened, drunken and slurring almost every word that come out of his mouth. You felt it was disrespectful to Donna to come to her funeral and comfort her husband, who you dated for years and considered your first love. It didn’t feel right no matter what way you thought about it, so you didn’t come. That was the last time you’d heard from him until today.

“I guess death can do that to a person. I’ll see you later Piney, I have to go get started looking for a dress to bury mom in.” He hugs you once more, this time a little more tight than before.

“He still cares about you kid. He loved Donna, but he loved you too.” He whispers, making you go cold. You break the hug and smile at him softly, heading out the club house doors as fast as you could. Hoping Piney didn’t notice the grief written all over your face.

__________

You had been through many challenges before, but trying to find your mother an outfit for her funeral that wasn’t completely revealing may be something you weren’t able to do. She’d turned the house into an even bigger dump than it was before you left, ashtrays filled to the brim with butts, beer cans and bottles scattered everywhere. Clothes thrown to the side, on the tv, in the floor. It was a wreck. You prayed it wouldn’t be yours to deal with now. You move a pile of books on the bed to the side to lay out what clothing looked appropriate to bury someone in when a stack of photos falls out. You pick them up, looking at each one. A photo of you and Otto on his Harley, you were maybe 6 years old in the photo. It made you smile, even if there was a lot of shit memories connected to your father you did know he loved you. You knew it was shitty not to call or even visit him, if they’d even let you. You look to the next picture, feeling like someone had just hit you in the chest. A photo of you and Opie on your senior prom night.

“God, my hair. My face.” You say softly, laughing at how much different you looked. Your eyes roam over to Opie, he was much smaller than he is now. Hardly any hair on the poor boys face compared to now. You sigh, folding the picture and sticking it in your pocket. Maybe you’d get to show it to him, if he lets go of the issue of Donnas funeral before you leave. The knock at the door takes you away from reminiscing. You’re in shock at who stands behind the white, dirt covered door.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for earlier. I guess I’m bad at letting shit go.” Opie says, he leans against the frame of the door, before you can suggest for him not to do it. “Can I come in?” You move out of the door way, noticing him looking around the disaster of a house.

“It’s a fuckin’ dump. Luann couldn’t keep a house up worth a shit apparently.” You say, he laughs a little bit. “There’s no way I’m staying here. Guess I’ll get a hotel till I go home.” You say, moving around some clutter, scared to sit on the couch even after it’s gone.

“If you need a place to crash, I’m sure the club wouldn’t mind if you stayed at the house. My house is pretty empty too, wife being dead and all.” You weren’t sure how to react to the last comment, so you didn’t acknowledge it.

“Thanks Ope. I found this going through moms stuff.” You hand him the photo, as soon as he looks at it he laughs. You feel your chest tighten when he does, even after all the years apart he still had an affect on you.

“Jesus, look how fuckin’ scrawny.” He says, you remember the first time he’d ever put his kutte on, how it was so baggy on him. He’d definitely grew into it over the years. “You were pretty, still are.” He says, you can’t help but smile at the comment.

“Don’t kiss my ass just cause you were being a shit head.” He grins, knowing you were half right. He felt awful for being so cold toward you, especially this being the chance to let you know that he’s never forgotten you. How you’d haunted him nearly everyday for the last 10 years.

“Listen, I gotta get going. Got some shit with the club that needs handled. If you need to crash at my place, you know where I am.”

“Thanks Ope. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you later?” He nods his head and closes the door behind him. You place your back to the door, hanging your head down. It shouldn’t be this way, the high school sweet heart still having some stupid affect on your mind years later. You look up, opening your eyes to a large rat sitting in front of you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You scream, grabbing the dress you’d found for your mother and slamming the door behind you.

__________

The porch light is barley shining when you step up to the door. You knock on the door, not having to wait long before it’s answered. Opie stands in the door way, only in a towel. Hair still wet from showering. You feel your eyes widen, looking him up and down. You knew it was obvious even if you had been praying it wasn’t.

“Sorry, didn’t think you’d stop by.” He says, moving out of the door way. You step in, the place was much different than your mothers. Clean, neat, no reason to be scared of being on the couch.

“So you just answer the door for anyone half naked?”

“Just the pretty ones.” You feel your face heat up at the comment. Embarrassed that you’re blushing like this. You place a hand on his thigh, rubbing it gently.

“Ope, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” You say softly, he brings your head up to face him. Looking into his eyes makes your heart go faster than it had in years. He places his hand on the side of your cheek, caressing it gently.

“It’s okay.” Before you can respond, you feel yourself move closer, kissing him. He moves his hands to your hips as you stratal him, gripping them tightly. You run your fingers through his damp hair, the last time this had happened was when the two of you were 19 years old, what you’d thought would be the last time you ever got to be this close to him. You break the kiss and head down to the towel that covered him, uncovering his hardened cock. Turns out, everything about him had grown some in ten years. You lower your head down, running your tongue up his cock as he moans out. One thing you love about Opie, he never was afraid to be loud. He’d let you know how good you made him feel. You wrap your lips around his cock, moving your head up and down. Slowly, trying to get him going and eager for you. It worked very fast, he grabs a fist full of your hair, tugging it gently trying to get you to pick up the pace. It was hard to take him in your mouth without choking, you hadn’t been blessed with no gag reflex like most. Taking him little by little however, was driving him insane.

“Too big for you to handle now?” He asks, you can just in-vision the smirk plastered across his face. You decide to take it as a challenge, taking him until he hits the back of your throat. You hold in your gags, but the tears forming in your eyes can’t hide that you’re struggling with taking every inch of him.

“Fuck.” He mutters out, leaning his head up to watch the sight in-front of him. A sight that as much as he was ashamed to admit, thought about from time to time even while he was married to Donna. You pull your mouth off of him, slowly, letting him feel every movement as you do. He groans out, as you straighten yourself up, he’s pulling at the waistband of your shorts. Silently, he begs you to take them off. You begin to unbutton them and he helps get your underwear and shorts off swiftly. Eager to be inside of you. You reach your hands down to discard your shirt before you slide yourself down onto him. Your walls stretching with every inch you take of him. Moaning out, you rest your hands on his chest. He places his hands back onto your hips, helping you move and watches your face as you adjust to him.

“Oh my God. Ope.” You whimper out, moving yourself faster and more steady onto him. A hand finds its way to your breast, grasping it firmly. He moves his hand farther up to your mouth, he drags his thumb over your lips slowly. You open your mouth far enough for him to graze it over your teeth. Before you know it, you’re flipped onto your back. The feeling of him reinserting himself makes you whine out, arching your back as he picks up a steady pace. You turn your head, closing your eyes and taking in the feeling of pleasure that’s overwhelming your senses. He uses one of his hands to turn your head back to him, holding it there.

“I want you to look me in the eyes. I want to see how good I make you feel.” The words make you even wetter than you were, which at this point you’d thought was impossible. He feels your nails digging into his back, using your hands to pull him closer to you. Looking at your face and the way you tightly had your legs wrapped around him, he knew you were close to cumming. He speeds up, thrusting into you faster and a touch harder than before.

“Fuck! Ope-“ You’re unable to get another word out before you feel yourself tighten around him. You grab him, pulling him down and smashing your lips against his. You grind against him, making sure to ride the orgasm as long as possible. Feeling you grind against him sends him over the edge, he groans out as he releases into you. You would thank God later for the birth control pills, but right now that was the last thing on your mind. He pulls himself out of you, laying down beside you as you both try to catch your breaths. You try to make the shaking in your legs stop, but it’s useless. You decide to just lay there until you don’t feel shaky or hazy.

“So much for small talk huh?” You ask, he chuckles and stretches out his arm for you to come over. You do so, resting your head on his chest. The feeling feels so good, so familiar and you hate to think about it ending. Suddenly dreading going back home.

“Yeah. Maybe we can do that in the morning.” He says, kissing the top of your head.

[joelalorian]

Lost Cause

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree.

Warnings: Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope.

Inspired by the song Save Me by Jelly Roll. Some of the lyrics have been woven into the story.

Word count: 2,594 oneshot

The hits just kept coming. Time after time, year after year, life just beat Joel Miller down. It started when he was young, always taken down a peg by someone who was supposed to love him unconditionally, no matter how hard he tried to build himself up. There was a brief respite when he had Sarah – those fourteen years were the happiest of his life, despite the sudden and unexpected nature of becoming a father so young, until it was all ripped away in the blink of an eye on that one horrific day.

Since then, he’d given up hoping for more. Life had completely shattered his hopes and dreams. He couldn’t even put himself out of his own misery, for fuck’s sake. Life hated him that much it wouldn’t even release its grasp on him. He was so damaged beyond repair, and he could do fuck all about it.

His latest hit was a sucker punch to the gut, though.

Just when he finally opened up his heart again, when he allowed himself to feel something other than misery again, that’s precisely when the hit came.

Ellie – sweet, feral child that she was – wanted nothing to do with him after finding out the truth of what happened to the Fireflies in Salt Lake City.

The fracture in his relationship with Ellie sent him spiraling out of control, resorting to old behaviors and vices – drinking too much at the Tipsy Bison, smoking pilfered cigarettes out back behind the bar, taking pills on the rare occasions he could get his hands on them. The nightmares returned no matter how blasted he got to chase them away and he was often moody from lack of sleep.

Joel still contributed to society in Jackson, but he did it in ways that he could keep to himself. Fixing things around town, building stuff in his workshop, taking the odd patrol shift with his brother. He avoided everyone but Tommy and Maria, and Ellie, if she didn’t flee from the very sight of him.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. What the fuck? Were you trying to get yourself killed? Because it almost worked!” Tommy was worked up, laying into Joel at the tail end of their patrol shift. He didn’t know if his older brother had a death wish or was just too hungover to pay proper attention, but Joel was nearly taken out by a clicker while they cleared their route. A clicker that he normally would have dispatched without much effort or thought. Joel cut it way too close this time.

Joel gazed at his brother with baleful eyes. He had nothing to say for himself. He did have a death wish, but how could he tell Tommy that?

Tommy knew Joel was struggling – his behavior was similar to what it had been after Sarah died, when he became a fraction of the man he had been. “Come on, let’s grab a drink at the Bison,” Tommy sighed. At a loss on how else to help him, Tommy often accompanied Joel to the bar despite already thinking his brother drank too much.  At least he could keep an eye on him that way.

They made small talk on the way, Joel’s responses little more that grumbles and grunts. Something needed to give, but what? Tommy didn’t know, but he sent up silent prayers for a miracle to save his brother.

Once they were seated at one end of the bar, Tommy ordered a round. “Joel, brother, what is going on, really? Is it just the thing with Ellie or something more?”

Two sets of deep brown eyes stared at each other for long moments, each waiting for the other to flinch or look away. Joel gave in first, clearing his throat, unable to meet his brother’s eyes as he spoke. “It’s… everythin’, Tommy. It feels like somethin’ inside me is broken, somethin’ that was just starting to repair itself until this thing with Ellie shattered it again.”

Tommy’s heart clenched. Life had done Joel dirty, even before the outbreak, and it seemed like it finally broke him beyond repair. “I know it ain’t been easy, not with… well, everything. Do you… would you ever consider talking to someone about it all? Like a professional, I mean. I know we got someone here who used to be a counselor.”

Brows pinched together, Joel’s stormy eyes glared at the bar top, avoiding Tommy’s searching gaze. “Fuck, no! I don’t want a stranger diggin’ into my psyche or whatever the hell they do, just so they can tell me I have daddy issues or some such shit. And talkin’ ‘bout it don’t help none, either. I’m talking to you and it ain’t doing shit but pissin’ me the hell off!”

“Damn, alright! Don’t gotta get all caveman on me.” Tommy held his hands up with a blatant roll of his eyes. His brother never did like the touchy feely shit and he should have known better than to bring it up. “Maybe you just need a sweet lil’ thing to take your mind off shit.”

That got Joel to laugh for the first time in a long while. “Oh yeah? You think getting my dick wet will solve everythin’?”

Tommy smirked. “Well, not everything. You’ll still be you afterwards. I’d pity whatever poor girl got stuck with you, honestly. But it couldn’t hurt none, right?” It was good to see his brother grin, nose and corners of eyes crinkling with the broadness of it, and they fell into a comfortable silence while people watching. Sudden movement at the entrance caught Tommy’s attention and Joel followed his eyeline.

You walked in with Maria, the pair of you had your heads tilted toward each other giggling madly about something. While Tommy only had eyes for Maria, Joel drank in the sight of you. New to Jackson, you arrived with a small group a few weeks ago and, while you were still settling in, you were eager to meet people and get involved in helping around town. Maria took an instant liking to you, and you spent a lot of time with her, quickly becoming part of the Miller group.

Catching a glimpse of his brother staring at you, Tommy slapped Joel’s back. “Speaking of a sweet lil’ thing. Maybe this is your chance, brother.” Joel scoffed in return. Girls like you don’t go for guys like him, at least not the guy he was now. It was the law of nature or some shit.

“Hey boys,” Maria greeted, taking a seat next to Tommy. With a knowing glint in her eye and an exaggerated wink, she gestured for you to sit next to Joel. You never should have mentioned to her how handsome you found Joel. She was becoming a menace with her not-so-subtle methods of teasing and pushing the two of you closer at every opportunity.

“Hi Joel.” You slipped onto the stool next to him, one hand placed on his shoulder for balance as you did so.

“Hey darlin’. Whatcha drinking?” he grunted, fighting to ignore the burning heat of your touch. When was the last time a woman touched him? It must have been Tess and that was… a long time ago.

“I’ll take a red wine. Cabernet or pinot noir, whichever kind is available, please.”

After relaying your request to the bartender, and with his brother’s attention focused solely on Maria, Joel turned his attention back to you. He was a miserable sod, but you were a beautiful woman – he’d be a fool to ignore the attention you paid him. “How are you settlin’ in?”

“Pretty good. This is some community.” You launched into a few stories about mishaps and people you’ve met so far, drawing a few chuckles from Joel with your interpretation of some of the townsfolk. You had a way about you that drew him out of shell of melancholy.

One drink quickly became two, then three, and before either of you knew it, Maria and Tommy left and the two of you were alone at the bar. The wine buzz left you feeling bold and brave, making a move you would not have normally.

“Do you want to go back to my place for a nightcap?”

“Darlin’,” Joel sighed, brows pinched, at once drifting back under the dark cloud of hopelessness and unable to meet your heated gaze. “You don’t want to waste your time on me. I’m a lost cause.”

“Why don’t you let me decide what and who I waste my time on,” you challenged.

Joel’s eyebrows lifted in surprise at your tenacity. You were a beautiful young woman and for some unfathomable reason you were interested in him. He had absolutely nothing to offer someone like you, except for a one-night stand, at best. He was good at those – they didn’t require deep connections or feelings, two things he was avoiding like the plague. Maybe Tommy was on to something though – sex would take his mind off his miserable existence for a bit.

“Okay then. Let’s get outta here,” he replied, downing the last of the amber liquid in his glass, and leading you out of the bar with a large, warm hand at your lower back.

The journey to your house was cold and quiet and you began to wonder if you’d made a huge error in judgement. You weren’t a one-night stand kind of girl, preferring the comfort and security of relationships instead, but something told you that this would be the only way you’d get to have Joel. There was a darkness about him, a deep residing mass of regret and remorse, and you felt a burning need to fix him, to be his sunshine, even if only for a little bit.

Your hands fumbled with the latch when you finally reached your house. The warmth of Joel’s large hands suddenly overwhelmed your senses as he helped you, and you were flinging yourself at him before the door even closed behind you.

His kisses were anything but tender, all harsh presses of his lips, teeth, and tongue, like he was a man starved. There would be marks left on your tender skin come morning, but you didn’t mind, giving him the same treatment as you sucked at his neck, soothing your tongue over the spots you just sunk your teeth into.

“I have a bottle of wine. Do you want some?” you breathed against his lips, taking a moment to slow the momentum before the pair of you spontaneously combusted.

A smirk crossed Joel’s lips as an idea struck him. “Sure, why not.” He watched you open the bottle and pour two glasses before returning to him. Accepting one of the stemless glasses, he clinked it against yours before taking a sip. The momentum picked right back up after that first taste of the dark liquid.

Fingers frantically working to undo the buttons on Joel’s flannel with one hand, you walked backwards up the stairs to your bedroom, pulling him along with you without a spare thought about the wine spilled on the wood flooring as you went. Patience wearing thin, he tore your clothes from your body with his free hand, leaving you naked and yearning as you continued working on his shirt. Placing his glass of wine on the nightstand, his hands were everywhere, he could not get enough of your smooth, soft skin.

You were the antithesis of him, bright and bubbly where he was dark and brooding, soft where he was hard, adaptable and happy where he was rigid and sad. You were ripe like fresh fruit ready for plucking. You were everything he wish he could still be. Perhaps he could get just a brief taste of happiness being with you, inside you.

Once his jeans and boots were shed, Joel tossed you onto the bed, watching with hungry eyes as your tits bounced with the movement. He was on you in a flash, hands and mouth exploring every inch of your body. Sharp teeth scraped against your puckered nipples, making them impossibly harder, and the sensation shot a bolt of pleasure right down to your core, where the weight of his hardened cock rested, twitching for attention.

Nails scraped down his chest and belly until you reached his cock, slipping your slender hand around the heft of him. He was huge – both long and thick, a combination you’d not experienced before, and your mouth watered with the desire to taste him. If you only had one night together, you wanted to make it a memorable experience.

It took great effort to get Joel to detach his lips from your breasts, the whine that emanated from him as you did so had you downright aching for him.

“What are you doin’, darlin’?” his deep voice rumbled, dark eyes rolling back in his head when you moved down his body and slipped your plush lips around the head of his cock. “Oh, fuck!”

After spending so long living in hell, your mouth felt like heaven as you licked and sucked on his length.

“Wait, doll, I wanna try somethin’.”

Sitting up against the aged headboard, Joel grasped the wine glass and brought it down to rest on his belly. Two thick fingers dipped into the dark red liquid and swirled, coating every bit of surface area from fingertip to second knuckle before he brought his drenched fingers down towards you. His hand hovered over his cock and you both watched as droplets of translucent ruby red liquid dripped onto his hardened flesh.

Your mouth watered as you watched him repeat the process, eager to taste the heady mix of the bitter tang of wine and his salty pre-cum. Ravenous, you slurped at the liquid trails running down the length of his cock before lapping at the bulbous head, leaving no hint of wine behind as you wrapped your lips around him.

Joel was a panting mess when you took him as far as you could, his weeping head hitting the back of your throat. The glass of wine was forgotten, slipping from his hand to stain the hardwood floor next to the bed. That was a tomorrow problem as you focused on devouring his beautiful cock. He was close to the edge within minutes, the sensations too much, and he pushed you off him none too gently, flipping you onto your back like you weighed nothing.

“My turn, darlin’,” Joel murmured, nestling his face between your legs. He’d been told that his current lifestyle was bad for his health, that all the drinking and smoking was hopeless. They weren’t wrong, but it felt like that was all he needed, the only thing that set him free from his sorrows. Now that he’d tasted you, he knew that was utter bullshit. You could so easily set him free if he got to have you, taste you every day. You were enough to change a man like him.

“Joel,” you mewled his name between long moans as his tongue teased at your clit, thick fingers exploring your folds before dipping inside you. He drew an orgasm from you effortlessly and you clawed at his back as the blinding flash of pleasure washed over you. “I need you inside me. Now. Please.”

He could refuse you nothing, shifting to hover over you. “Save me from myself,” he murmured against your lips as he sheathed himself inside your tight warmth. “You’re the only one who can.”

“Always,” you replied breathlessly, rocking your hips against his. Your mouths met in a kiss full of promise.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Hi 👋😁 I love the request you did for me with “Too Sweet” and there’s another song that I definitely feel like it’s Eddie called “Your Stupid Face”, I recommend it, and I was wondering if you could do a one-shot or maybe even a two-parter based on that song? Here’s a link to have a listen to it if you want so you know what I mean.

Request by @randomreader1999

♥️💌

God, you hate Eddie Munson and his stupid face.

He has doe eyes. And you're not gazing at him all love-struck or anything, (okay you totally are) but that's not the point, the point is you've always noticed that Eddie had pretty eyes but they've never made you feel this entranced before.

He's gonna notice you're gawking at him idiot you tell yourself and shit, that would be mortifying if he did notice. Fortunately, he's too wrapped up in taking to the rest of Hellfire, his hands gesticulating widely as he teases the rest of the group with what's coming up.

If Eddie did notice you staring then it would be bad, humiliation on a grand scale because you and Eddie? You absolutely do not get on. In fact, for a year you hated his stupid face, his overdramatic expressions and gestures, and the way he seemed to know how to push your buttons.

It had taken you a while to realise that you liked Eddie, and his stupidly handsome face and over-the-top gestures. That was something you refused to admit though as the two of you were like chalk and cheese at the best of times.

He had grown on you, like a fungus as Robin so unhelpfully pointed out.

When he wasn't around you were reminded of him constantly, all his little quirks. The minute you see him again it's like your whole body lights up. It was highly embarrassing.

You were taking that secret to your grave, there was no way that anyone was finding out how much you went all love-struck over Eddie freaking Munson.

💌

Eddie hated you and your stupid face. Okay, that was a lie, at least it had been for the last month or so. Annoyingly Eddie couldn't stop thinking of you and that was horrifying in itself. The two of you were complete opposites, went together like oil and water.

Or at least so Eddie thought. Turns out you had a sweet side, you were beautiful and feisty and sarcastic and Eddie liked all of that.

He also liked arguing with you and seeing your eyes burn with annoyance, the need to one-up him and get the last word. It really turned Eddie on if he was being honest, Jesus H Christ he was so screwed.

The rest of Hellfire took the piss out of him about it, Dustin and Gareth had clocked that Eddie liked you way before Eddie did. Though it might have been obvious because both of you couldn't stay away from each other.

When Eddie wasn't around you, he felt lost. He didn't like feeling like that. You obviously had more effect on him than he realised. Even his Uncle Wayne had noticed the tension between the two of you and that knowing smirk wouldn't leave his face for weeks.

"Boy, you got a crush on that girl or something? Could have sworn your cheeks went red just now"

Nope, nope. He was not letting his uncle tease him about that. It was bad enough that he was attracted to you in the first place, he didn't need all of Hellfire, Uncle Wayne and even that band kid Robin teasing him now.

His best bet was to avoid you until this crush went away. (Although if he was being honest he doubted that would be anytime soon)

...♥️

Fuck, you and Eddie had kissed. One minute the two of you were in some argument then the next minute the two of you were kissing.

It was a stupid argument. To be honest you couldn't remember what it was about. Just that Eddie was as dramatic as usual and you thought he was annoying and hot in equal measure.

Also, he had been avoiding you and that didn't help your traitor heart that ached when he wasn't around.

Then during the argument, he said something stupid and that caused you to rant at him, midway through your rant you noticed the awed look on Eddie's face and the argument died in your throat.

"You know you're beautiful when you're all bossy and shit?" That was the catalyst for the kiss the two of you shared. A hot, messy, perfect kiss.

And now he was avoiding you and you were sure it was because he regretted kissing you.

So as usual you traded insults and hated the bone-deep hurt that nestled inside of you when Eddie insulted you right back.

Maybe he really did hate you? you had fucked up by continuing the kiss that was just a mistake on his end.

God you hated him and his stupidly perfect face.

...

All you wanted was five minutes of peace. Just some time to yourself to process this strange week you've been having.

Of course, Eddie would never let you away with not seeing his dopey face for longer than a few minutes, he walks up to you and you feel tense, was he here to yell at you or use more barbed insults to hurt you?.

Maybe you should have picked a better spot to have some time to yourself than in the woods. Isn't this where he did most of his dealings and stuff?

You're braced for some form of an argument but soften when you notice how gentle his gaze is while on you.

"Why are you here Eddie?" You sigh and look up at the face you've grown to love, really love.

"I've been an asshole. Avoiding you and avoiding talking about the kiss, acting like it meant nothing when it meant everything, I've never felt like this before and it's scary sweetheart, especially because I've spent so long denying my feelings and thinking I hated you"

Oh well shit. You weren't expecting this.

"I haven't been a saint either, I've been burying my feelings and trying to go back to normal and insulting you when all I really wanted to do was kiss your annoyingly gorgeous stupid face" he smiles at that part. "And maybe even date you" you tack on at the end.

He gapes incredulous. "You still wanna date me?" he sounds so surprised that you snort, stand up and lace you're fingers through his.

"Eh, maybe I'm an idiot or something for agreeing to this but I get that you were scared Eddie. I've never felt like this either but I want to explore this, be with you, with the rule that we actually talk to each other about our feelings instead of avoiding them". Suddenly Eddie's grinning and he takes your free hand and kisses it, like a perfect gentleman.

"Request granted my lovely maiden" You roll your eyes but secretly like how sweet he is and kiss him gently.

"Come on Eddie, you owe me a milkshake or two"

And if Eddie followed you like a love-sick puppy afterwards well then that was something he would not repeat to anyone, he had a reputation to uphold after all.

Between the two of you though he admitted he missed you and your stupidly perfect face.

♥️

[sapphicsigh]

I don't want a 3rd szn without Izzy. I just don't. Call me dramatic or whatever, but I'm so genuinely heartbroken by his death. I feel so betrayed. Izzy was the heart of the show, and now he's gone.

The aftermath of his death felt rushed, he wasn't buried at sea (like what the fuck, a lifelong pirate like Izzy would've wanted to be buried at sea) and the crew was just happy to get back on the revenge and set sail without their unicorn? Everyone just gets a happily ever without Izzy? Izzy died a painful death shot by a pompous asshole and for what? Some metaphor about the end of the golden age of piracy? Piss off. Closure for Ed? That could've been achieved a number of other ways. Izzy couldn't get any assurances that HE was loved? Even on his fucking deathbed? The man who protected the crew with life and limb? It doesn't feel right, and it never will. Izzy deserved so much better, and so did Con.

And worst of all, perhaps, is that Djenkins was planning on killing him all along. The whole time, while we were falling in love with the little angry man, rooting for him and rejoicing when he wore makeup in front of the crew and was vulnerable with them...he was a dead man walking.*

*I've seen ppl make rlly good points about how death was treated throughout the show and I wanted to add that context here. If I can find whose post I'm thinking of, I'll tag them

**Edit: Izzy's death was an incredible shock. EVERYONE ELSE IN THE SHOW survived their near death experiences!!! Stede got choked near to death, stabbed (twice!), and survived all of that unscathed. Ed got his head smashed in by a FUCKING CANNONBALL, pumbled by the crew and made it out with barely a scrape. Even Calico Jack could've (apparently) escaped death after being shot with a goddamn cannonball. The Swede was poisoned but was already immune to it. Wow! We (at least I felt this way), as an audience, believed that there wouldn't be any character deaths due to the overwhelming evidence we'd been given thus far. So after alllll the in show evidence that the laws of medicine or physics don't apply to ANY of the pirates, why suddenly apply it when it comes to Izzy? Hmmm??? It makes no fucking sense. It's cruel and unusual punishment. They really killed off the queer disabled elder??? Jesus christ. Did not a single person in the writer's room have a qualm about it? The optics alone are bad. But more importantly, killing off the queer disabled elder is inherently political, whether djenkins thought of it that way or not (& i dont think he did). The mere existence of queer people is inherently political in a society (the US), which wishes for our eradication. So killing off a beloved queer disabled elder, on a show which seemed to promise us queer joy and a happy ending, IS POLITICAL. it's a slap in the face and a punch through the fucking gut.

It feels doubly awful because we, as an audience, were given something we've never had before, an unapologetically queer show. One that didn't soften or censor itself for straight viewers. It was created with such love, at least it felt like, for us. So to be given that gift, and to feel recognized and seen and appreciated, only to have it snatched away...

I can only speak for myself, of course, but it's genuinely heartbreaking. I'm so utterly disappointed. I wish so badly that Con got more time with Izzy. I think Izzy means a lot to him, and he means a lot to us, too.

❤️‍🩹🦄❤️‍🩹I love you, Izzy, and I always will. Rest in peace, my little meow meow, you were and are so loved.❤️‍🩹🦄❤️‍🩹

[crepesuzette2023]

So whats like the general consensus about Stu and John? Do we think they ever messed around or not?

Ooooh, I won't burn and scar my typing fingers on anything like "general consensus," and my cop-out answer is: depends on who you ask. I mean, if you're living in a world where 'a man being with a woman' = straight, or 'a man who never came out unequivocally as queer' = straight, then John and Stu very much never messed around, and, more importantly, didn't feel the desire to.

But I think if you look at it with an open mind, without being afraid of the possibility, you'll see it's more likely they did than that they didn't.

First, you have John, with his life-long romantic idea of being in love with your creative partner (see: his comments on Yoko and Paul)—an idea that fits Stu seamlessly, and perhaps even started with him. In the Hunter Davies bio, John (in '67) calls Stu Paul's predecessor in the 'my trusted partner in art' role.

There is also this conversation with Stu's girlfriend, Astrid Kircherr, as related by Backbeat director Iain Softley:

Paying tribute to Astrid this week, film director Iain Softley revealed her moving words from his interviews with her when he made 1994 movie Backbeat about her and Stuart’s romance.

They hint at a complex relationship between her, Stuart and John. She said it was only after Stuart died that she and John “took a load of pills” and talked for 12 hours about “all the things on our minds about Stuart”. “‘He was jealous when Klaus and I fancied Stuart more, and took him home and left John out,” she told Iain.

“He told me he really loved Stuart, but was afraid of the feeling.”

Iain adds: “I think she thought he meant as a friend, I don’t think there was any suggestion they were in a relationship. But Stuart had always been John’s best friend, they shared a flat in Liverpool. John would write to Stuart as ‘Jesus Christ to John the Baptist’, in the sense Stuart was showing him the way. He looked up to him.

“There was a sense John didn’t want Stuart taken away from him, he didn’t want Stuart to stay in Hamburg.

“At the same time he was very fond of Astrid, but I think there was a conflict there.”

If John was afraid of the feeling, then I'm thinking he felt something that, at the time, and probably still today, was a scary thing to feel. I'll leave it at that.

Also, they were, what? 18, 19, 20 years old? At that age, odds are you do fool around, even if you regret it afterwards. Nothing wrong with that.

Look at this picture of Stu (r.) with Astrid and Astrid's ex, Klaus Voormann. Klaus, who later said he and Astrid didn't work as a couple because she wanted him to be exactly like her image of him, and whose marriage (to a woman) was a platonic marriage of convenience, according to himself. We have now reached the beautiful stage of come onnn! "Straight" was at the party, but so were many others. These relationships were messy! That's awesome!

And how do we feel about John feeling up Gene Vincent, while Paul and George look on knowingly, and Pete Best blanks out? We feel joyous and unsurprised.

A word about Paul vs. Stu, since we're (sort of) at it.

It's possible (what an understatement) to think of their rivalry as sexual rivalry. This is, once more, hinted at in Backbeat, where Stu is more or less giving away John to Paul.

And yet. I think it was more than that. I think everyone, back then, was fighting for more than a bed-partner. They were fighting for their future, for a life unlike their parents'. Paul was fighting for the band, Stu was fighting for John to join him on his artist's way (even giving 'rock'n'roll' a try), and John..

John was, on the one hand, the person either of the others felt he needed in order to realize his dream. But on the other hand, he was the least decided of the three. He may have perceived that, within the trio, he had the fewest fall-back options: Stu had his obvious, much-mentored artistic talent. Paul had a possible academic future bwxt to his musical talent, plus a clear determination to make it in music. John had talent in spades, but perhaps less of a clear-cut idea of where and how to apply it. So he tried keeping both of them close...?

With fun scenes like these as a result:

John sure is feeling campy/cuddly, while Paul is incandescent with rage. A hot look for both of them.

In the end, we don't know if they ever did fool around. My usual reply in those cases is: I hope they did, if they both wanted it. I hope it was good.

I need to check out this book:

John and Paul look happy.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

“you look like you could use a hug.”

thank you to @thru00thepages22 for this prompt!! enjoy some George x Blakely <3

Word count: 962

Blakely was staring. Brow furrowed, he sat, frowning, at his desk, drumming the tip of his pen incessantly against the edge of the table. Since the moment he'd first laid eyes on George that morning, he'd been unable to look away, tracking her every move with keen attention. Dark circles ran rings beneath her eyes, and she was on what was at least her third cup of coffee. Even more disturbingly, she was distracted. If there was one thing George Aarons never was, it was distracted - she was the best, rolling out messages with such focus and rapidity that none of the Americans had ever quite been able to catch up. But in the last ten minutes, he had watched her lose track four times, tearing the sheet from her typewriter with a sigh of frustration every time she made a mistake.

Yesterday's mission hadn't been good. It hadn't exactly been bad - they'd seen much worse, taken much greater blows than the four planes they'd lost the previous afternoon. As far as Blakely knew, George hadn't even known any of the lost crews, all of whom had been replacements - a group she seemed to make a pointed effort to avoid. Yet there she was, clunking away clumsily at the keys, appearing utterly miserable.

It was almost startling how much it bothered him, so when she got up he made to follow, trailing a few metres behind her as she crossed the floor towards the kitchen, empty mug in hand. Reaching her just as George was about to make another cup of coffee, he held out a tentative hand, scarcely grazing her arm. "Think that's probably enough for one day, huh?" Everett spoke softly, gently prying the cup from her as she looked up at him with a frown.

"S'only my second one," George protested, although she made no physical effort to stop him.

"Uh-huh, well, that's definitely not true," He shrugged, leaning back against the countertop. "So?"

Sighing, she threw up her hands in surrender. "So what?"

"You gonna make me work for it, Aarons? You're fucking up all your work - and I'm saying this from a place of love, but you look like shit."

George sucked in a long, deep breath, and a spark of panic shot through Blakely as it suddenly appeared as though she were about to burst out crying, bottom lip pulled taut between her teeth, eyes welling up with tears. "Ssshit, no-no, hey-" Pushing himself away from the counter, Everett stepped forward, swiftly bridging the gap between them, his hands on her shoulders as he tried to meet her gaze.

She groaned frustratedly, wiping away her tears with such force that her hands left faint, pink marks on the flesh of her cheeks. "Jesus Christ. Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"I dunno... nicely."

Releasing a huff of laughter, he gently squeezed her shoulder. "You want me to stop being nice? That's a new one."

"Shut up," George tittered slightly, shaking her head as she gave his chest a kindly shove. But the moment her amusement subsided, her expression dulled again, and a deep frown creased Blakely's expression.

"Ok, seriously. You gotta give me somethin' here, honey," He sighed.

Looking up at him, she shrugged. "It's just... tomorrow's gonna be one year since Curt died... And I slept like shit, and I'm tired, alright?"

For a moment it was silent, the air suddenly hanging so thick between them that George felt like suffocating. When she'd awoken from the few hours of sleep she'd managed to find last night, Frankie had been in bed beside her, a wordless understanding of precisely what was happening. All she could think about was the moment she'd found out Curt was dead, looping it over and over in her head - she could still hear the beeps of Morse code, could remember so vividly the split second she realised what the message was spelling out, the report falling to her before anyone else even had a clue.

Wordlessly, Blakely stepped forward, closing the gap as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his chest. Without hesitating, George reached her arms around his back, cheek resting against his front, his hand against her hair softly holding her in place. She took a deep, steady breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne as his thumb traced back and forth across her back.

"Does it ever feel weird to you?" She asked after a while, voice hoarse and muffled against the fabric of his shirt. "That we're like this, when he was your friend."

"No," Everett uttered, without so much as a pause to think it over. She felt him shake his head, his chin brushing against her hair. "He'd kick my ass if he thought I'd let you be alone."

George chuckled. "Yeah... you're probably right."

"Always am," He nodded, squirming as she pinched him in the side as a silent reply. Letting out a laugh, he pulled back just far enough to look down at her face, sweeping a few stray strands of golden hair out of the way. "Y'know what I think?"

"I'm sure I'm about to find out," She teased.

"I think we should get outta here - take the day. Tomorrow too."

George's brow arched in question. "You want me to skive?"

"I'm just guessing at what that means - but yes."

She snorted, tilting her head to rest her chin against his chest as she looked up at him. Leaning down to meet her, Blakely briefly touched his nose to hers before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. As he met her gaze once more, a smile was beginning to curl her lip, that glint he always loved returning to her eye.

"Fuck it. Let's go."

"Whatever you say, dear."

[folklauerate]

I’ll say something else while I’m here-one of my biggest issues with Bridgerton s2 was the lack of cohesiveness. Jesus Christ no one is upset with characters making unlikable decisions and if you want a wedding for the sake of drama, Shondaland, have a fucking wedding, but make it earned! And on top of that, the wedding episode had the fucking audacity to be boring as shit! Just all trodding on and operating off of the assumption the viewer would be aghast and would sit through nearly an hour of boring yawn snooze because there were “stakes” and it seemed like the main pair might not get together. Like for fuck’s sake have as much drama as you like but at least make it well written! Instead the wedding episode is a dirge and not because it’s a reflection of some character’s mental state or any seemingly deep reason, no; it’s like they decided there would be a wedding and shrugged when it came to getting the character’s there. It doesn’t count as good writing if you’ve spent the past months/years trying to wrap your head around or write fic around the reasons why x decision by y characters make sense to fill in gaps that shouldn’t be there in the first place and that’s all this fandom has done.

People’s issue with side plots taking up too much time isn’t really that they take up too much time-it’s that none of them follow a set of overarching themes of the season and feed into them or a main storyline in a significant way, giving the illusion to the viewer that they’re completely separate from the romance at the core and therefore taking away from it, as opposed to everything being harmonious.

On top of that, the characterizations are so fucking varied and there’s a large tonal shift between s1 and s2 in terms of the way the Bridgersibs interact with one another. Siblings can fight and be rude and whatever to one another but for them to turn into completely different people out of nowhere is so ??

And on the topic of characterizations-WHERE WAS KATE’S??? Anthony gets 28363938 motivations for why he is the way he is and then is honestly left floundering with all of them, until you’re honestly a bit ?? as to why he can’t marry for love, and then you get Kate who is just… There. Why can’t she marry for love? Why is she hellbent against marrying? Why is she prioritizing her family’s finances and Mary/Edwina above herself? What conversations did she have with her father before he died to make her this way or was she always like this? What were their lives like in India? I could keep going! At least in the book you get some half hearted “I’m too ugly and old to get a match” reason but in the show no one is going to fucking believe Simone Ashley is too ugly or old to get whatever lord she wants 😭✋ and THEN???? To top it all off-Kate and Anthony don’t have a single meaningful discussion around an entire eight episodes!!!!! Not one!!!!!!!!! What fucking growth happens between them fucking and the coma and then their fucking dance to have them propose? If the actors themselves had to invent all these so called secret conversations their characters had in between everything to make things make sense, I really don’t think that’s a hallmark of good writing. They rush that happy ending in there at the end and it feels like they forgot they had to end the fucking show with these two characters together and they just said “fuck it let them kiss” and that’s what we got. WHAT CONVERSATION OF SUBSTANCE DID THEY HAVE. And what fucking argument can you make that it’s okay that it didn’t happen on screen??) NONE!!! It’s TV! It’s a VISUAL FORMAT??? Oh my god.

I told myself I wouldn’t rant about this, just redirect people to walle’s thoughts on this, which is (in her own words) how she sat shiva for the fucking wreck of what Bridgerton s2 is. Walle if you don’t know wrote a thousand cuts and s2 was the nail in the coffin for her. It was so so so bad. It went against such basic principles of storytelling. The writing was so abhorrent. It was insane. And to defend it feels more insane it feels like you’ve been taken hostage by this damn show and you’re writing thinkpieces on tumblr and twitter to make it make sense!

What grates me is that it really could’ve been good. The juice was there. The actors are amazing. The production team is clearly so so dedicated and hard working. IT WAS ALL THERE. Honestly the way the show was marketed in the trailer feels completely different from how it came out and I have to think there was some fuckshit going on behind the scenes given the large tonal shift during/after ep 4 and CVD’s hasty and odd departure.

[physalian]

#Writer Problems

Meet the 15th character in this series with a name that starts with A! No one will notice hahaha

Going back and deleting the sighs to shake things up a bit because there’s 120 in the manuscript

*checks notes* whoops you died already, Side Character, my bad

*one paragraph* Perfect. Amazing. Poetic. Profound. *the next paragraph* what is words do?

Knocking out a 6k word chapter in an hour/Spending a week on a single transition

*slaps down a shiny new character with zero plan* You don’t know anything about them and neither do I, let’s discover them together

Realistically, there’s gotta be at least one casualty from this fantasy battle so…. *rolls dice* no not you. *rolls dice again* yep. That’ll do. Sorry, pal.

Is this badass or stupid?

Is this hot or cringey?

*checks notes* damn it, plot hole.

Upon this most recent round of edits, you, Cool Side Character, no longer made the cut. Mayhaps you’ll be recycled later.

*checks notes* damn it, I fixed that plot hole by opening another plot hole.

Jesus christ I wrote ‘just’ 308 times across 120k words?

That is definitely not how you spell that

*dreams about my characters in full HD technicolor* awwww yeah, where’s the popcorn? *cannot replicate how cool it was in actual words*

Unes- Unnecs- Unessis- Unnessessarily- Unnecessarily fuck

Do I go with the British grey or the American gray?

*cries* this epic was supposed to be a novella

Well these two were supposed to be having an argument here. But making out is fine. I’d like to see where this goes.

Oops I forgot the straights, here that nameless dude over there isn't confirmed gay, so you can headcanon that he's straight if you want

Oops I forgot that marriage exists uhhh yeah their other parents are all dead or deadbeats

Fuck love triangles here’s a double-helix dodecahedron.

One day my fandom will write so much smut about this guy and I am here for it cause I sure ain’t doing it myself

Oops I forgot people with green eyes exist but brown eyes? I got 20

*describing the writing process* It was the best of times, it was the worst of times it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

I. Hate. Chapter. Titles.

Is this profound or pretentious?

*crafts an absolutely banger metaphor* I hope someone notices this. I put a lot of work into it

I didn’t spend 6 months perfecting this masterpiece for you to sass that the curtains are just blue. I’ll write the goddamn essay myself about all the depth behind my color choices, sir.

Picture that Spongebob dehydrated in Sandy’s treehouse meme ‘cause that’s me on round 12 of edits

I gotta be up for work in 4 hours but this monologue is more important

*distills 30 pages of worldbuilding notes into 2 paragraphs of a fluff scene* somebody will appreciate this, won’t they?

*listening to my book playlist* one day when this is adapted I hope this artist is still alive to compose the main theme cause this shit fucks

*cries* this trilogy was supposed to be just one book

If I turn this plot hole into a character flaw, they become the problem while I remain god

*looting themes, monologues, character names, and archetypes off the corpses of my dead WIPs* You won’t miss them anyway.

While it also immortalizes this person’s dickish behavior, yes, I will, in fact, write a whole character’s backstory as a middle-finger to this one bitch from 10 years ago.

*steps back to gaze at all the suffering done unto my deuteragonist* but it was worth it, wasn’t it?

*staring down yet another loathsome action set piece* whyyyyy do I do this to myself?

Nobody’ll notice my author insert if I dice them up and divvy them out in bits to my entire cast, right? Right? It’s like a shell game of what’s author and what’s fiction

These two are going to be a problematic ship one day and I will burn that bridge when I get there

*2am and I am scouring the internet for that one piece of a fort’s defenses because not remembering is the current root of my insomnia*

*Nudging my favorite character who isn’t the protagonist out onto stage* golly I hope the readers like him

Waiting. For. Editors. Takes. So. Long.

Holy butts accidental motif and deep symbolism fucks. I am so pretending I did that on purpose.

To subtext or not to subtext? Nah, to subtext. *laughs maniacally*

Trying to ride that line between so obvious it’s painful but also juuust enough foreshadowing so you slap yourself for not seeing it sooner

TIL that I have been using that word completely wrong for years. How quaint.

No you’re derivative schlock. I’m crowd surfing the books that came before and loving every second of it.

Damn I wasted a really good name on this throwaway character

*checks notes* wait, who's taller? Where does your hair part? Are you left or right-handed?

*musing over a character slated for death* damn, I really like you. Since I am in fact god, you shall live another day. *rewerites the entire finale*

God I hope people like this story

[rhaewnyra]

honestly i was trying to trust the process when i ignored some of the huge changes they made in the majority of hotd but the season finale got me a bit confused as to what was the purpose of this season. while they gave jace a lot more character development (as they should), i feel like all the other characters were left behind or thrown in the middle of a plot that made no sense at all.

it took daemon five episodes to realize he didn't want the crown and it was rightfully rhaenyra's; something he already knew by the end of season 1. he orders jaehaerys' death and then he's tormented with the burden of his choice for the rest of the season meanwhile helaena gets only a few minutes of grief and anxiety. then on the last episode it seems like helaena can see daemon through his vision and she's not even a little bit enraged.

alicent goes to dragonstone after aemond told her to do the dishes. while yes she could have realized that things were never different for her, this portrayal of her being just an innocent woman with no ambitions and just a silly little brain that doesn't understand prophecies is so annoying. she did everything she could to put aegon on the throne, wanted to take luke's eye for aemond and now she just gives her children away that easily? very poorly written unfortunately. writers kept pushing the rhaenicent agenda so far they forgot some things need to make sense in order for something to be genuinely good.

rhaenys and meleys died. meleys, rhaenyra's biggest dragon that had a rider. rhaenys, one of rhaenyra's biggest supporters who died trying to fight this war between siblings. and then we have one scene a few seconds long of corlys almost crying and the same one of rhaenyra looking up at the sky. WHERE is the grief? the same can be said about luke. yes, the first episode had rhaenyra trying to find his remains and going through an immense amount of pain during the whole thing but shouldn't his death linger and haunt the narrative for the rest of the season? it was a son for a son.

corlys only walked around his ship and pretended alyn and addam weren't his sons. rhaena and baela had very limited screentime and rhaena still hasn't claimed the dragon. (spoiler ahead) jace literally dies for his brothers and when they're parting ways they don't show much of them. are the writers addicted to never exploring the depths of the characters and their relationships? jesus christ

overall, it was a season with huge flaws and no development at all. it's very obvious it's an adaptation and it's gonna have some changes, but things need to at least make sense when you watch. and i love hotd! but how can a piece of media be good enough if it's afraid of showing the nuances of the characters? for me, i honestly think i kept coming back for hotd because i love the actors, they are incredibly talented. and to be fair enough, the battle and dragon scenes were very great.

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PRELIMINARY ROUND - BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER/ANGEL THE SERIES

PROPAGANDA

Fred Burkle

1.) She is chronically a damsel in distress in the canon even though she has demonstrated her intelligence and ability to use weapons. The canon consistently takes away her agency over her body and ability to make decisions just to further plot. Why does she die because she gets possessed by a god for no reason </3

2.) ok I promise I'll be more normal about the other ats female characters than about cordy. fred was introduced as a genius physicist who had spent five years stuck in a demon dimension where humans were persecuted, surviving on her own and trying to somehow find a way back home. after being rescued from the demon dimension by the show's main characters, she joins the main cast and starts trying to readjust to the normal world. the setup for her character is really interesting, with her having a lot of trauma from her time in the demon dimension, feeling helpless, and struggling to become comfortable living in the human world again. but I guess because she's a Woman the show instead reduces her to just being at the centre of a love triangle with two of the other main characters, which she has almost no agnecy in and gets stretched out over like two seasons. and then after she breaks up for good with one of the guys and it looks like MAYBE she'll at least be freed from love triangle hell, the show introduces a NEW love interest for her just to keep the love triangle drama going. she basically never gets any focus or to be an active player in the show's plot aside from in a couple of episodes, pretty much being reduced to just a damsel in distress. and as if all that wasn't bad enough, fred's story ends with her being killed by a demon that takes over her body and destroys her from the inside out in a way that isn't Technically a mystical pregnancy but is like. close enough to one and presented close enough to one for it to count. (if you read the cordelia submission and are perhaps thinking to yourself jesus christ did they actually fridge both their main female characters in exactly the same way? Yes. Yes they did.) the demon in fred's body then allegedly becomes a new member of the main cast but the show does pretty much nothing with this character and she doesn't play any important role so it really does just feel like fred died for no reason other than to make her boyfriend sad. This is because fred died for no reason other than to make her boyfriend sad. It fucking sucks but I guess it's not like she got any agency or development when she was alive either

3.) Poor Fred. Amy Acker is a fantastic actress and Fred had the potential to become a truly wonderful character - a brilliant scientist who goes through intense trauma and finds her purpose in helping other people. I have a lot of love for her. Unfortunately she was the victim of a lot of really misogynistic writing. For starters, a lot of her characterisation falls into the ‘quirky weird girl who’s hot but doesn’t realise’ camp which Joss Whedon is fond of. Like other examples of this, her trauma is turned into something quirky which fades away once they get bored of it. Also, she becomes completely sidelined and silenced in a love triangle where the feelings of the man pining over her are given all air time, and her own opinion is never mentioned. Additionally, she’s constantly sidelined in the final season after being made the token girl, and is finally killed off unceremoniously to generate drama and pain for the aforementioned man who was pining over her. And you know what the worst part is? She still gets off more lightly than Cordelia.

Cordelia Chase (CW: Pregnancy)

1.) (downs an entire bottle of vodka and slams it back on the table) SO. CORDY. Cordy started off as a supporting character in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. At the start she was your typical high school mean girl character, but as the show went on we got to see more depth to her character: her insecurities, her courage, her capacity for incredible acts of kindness. Then after the third season she moved into the show's spin off, Angel, where from the beginning she was basically the show's secondary protagonist. Her and Angel were the two mainstays of the show's main cast, she gets the most episodes centered on her out of all the characters aside from Angel (and yes, I've checked), and we really got to see her grow from a very shallow and self-centered and kind of mean person to a true hero who was prepared to give up any chance at a normal life to fight the good fight while still never losing the basic core of her character. There were some… questionable moments like the episode where she gets mystically pregnant with demon babies and things got a bit iffy like halfway through season 3 where the writers seemed to run out of ideas for what to do with her outside of sticking her in this romance drama/love triangle situation with the main character but overall, pretty good stuff right? THEN SEASON 4 HAPPENED. In season 4 she gets stripped of literally all agency and spends pretty much the entire season possessed by an evil higher power, and while possessed she sleeps with Angel's teenage son (who BY THE WAY she had helped raise as a baby before he got speed-grown-up into a teenager it was a whole thing don't worry about it) and gets pregnant with like. the physical manifestation of the higher power that's possessing her. it's about as bad and stupid as it sounds and also is like the third time cordy's got mystically pregnant in this show and like the fourth mystical pregnancy storyline overall (you will be hearing more on that note in other submissions I'm so sorry). after giving birth she goes into a coma, in which she remains for the rest of season 4 and the first half of season 5. SPEAKING OF WHICH DON'T THINK SEASON 5 IS GETTING OFF SCOT FREE HERE. yeah so in season 5 the show just FULLY starts trying to erase cordy's existence. she gets mentioned ONCE in the first episode and then never again until halfway through the season where she wakes up, helps out Angel for a bit and encourages him in his fight against evil, and then goes quietly into that good night and dies so it can be all sad and tragic. I'd call it the worst fridging of all time but even THAT feels generous because the whole point of fridging is killing off a female character so a man can be sad, and after Cordy dies basically no one's even sad about it because the show immediately goes back to pretending she never existed. she is not mentioned ONCE in the two episodes after she dies. in the whole stretch of time between her death and the end of the season she gets mentioned exactly four times. again, I counted. anyway the fun twist to all of this is that all of this happened because the actress who played cordy got pregnant before season 4 and joss whedon was so pissed off about this affecting his plans for the show that he decided to completely fuck over her character and then fire her and write her out of the show. so cordy's a victim of both writing AND real life misogyny!! good times!!

2.) OH SO MANY THINGS they menaced by giving her terrible hair cuts, making her seem like she'd get together with the guy she loves (and who loves her back) but instead she was killed and when she was brought back, she got possessed by an evil entity who used her body to give birth to itself. afterwards she was in a long coma and died. her character was so throughoutly assassinated

3.) She got demonically pregnant TWICE - there was this real sense of a womb/ability to get pregnant as like, a place for evil to get in. She got positioned as femme fatale and evil mother. The actress basically got fired for being pregnant, and when she agreed to come back for a single final episode she specifically said they could do anything but kill off the character. Guess what happened

[dreaminrainbows]

Happy August! I've decided to start a monthly fic rec and what a better way than with all the lovely fics I've read in July!

Victorian Boy by audreyhheart / @audreyhheart [101k]

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

you are my destiny (you are the reason that i still believe) by alwaysxlarrie / @alwaysxlarrie [98k]

Being a new employee at a company means that you have to learn to brush off the shitty bosses, shitty coworkers, and not getting the credit you actually deserve for things. At least, that's been Harry Styles' experience. Coworkers who steal his ideas in pursuit of getting praise and a raise, and a boss who's indifferent at best and condescending at worst. Harry has learned to expect this reality for the foreseeable future. He's accepted it. What he hadn't expected was for Louis Tomlinson to waltz into their company, and his life, and change around everything he thought he knew about fate. A Cinderella AU.

fondre ton absence by scrunchyharry / @scrunchyharry [41k]

Harry had never really given much thought to the future. He preferred to let life steer him forward and to follow in the footsteps of Louis, his best friend from as far as his memory went, his lover, his everything. Louis knew better than he did what was good for him. It changed drastically when Louis was ripped away from him, drafted and sent to the front to fight in a war that Harry had always been sure would never reach him. Too young and too sickly to follow, Harry was left on his own for the first time in his life. When he thought things could not possibly get worse, Louis went missing at the Somme and was declared dead. While everyone buried and mourned him, Harry never moved on. If Louis were dead, he was sure that he would know it. Their lives were too entwined, he would know if half of his heart had died. Determined to find Louis, Harry did everything he could in his quest to be reunited with him, except prepare for the state Louis might be in. He did not prepare for the harsh truth he would have to face: was love possible without memories?

The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson by HelloAmHere / @helloamhere [31k]

“I'm not afraid of ghosts,” Louis said. Every single magnet unstuck itself from the fridge and fell to the floor in a clattering cascade. “I'm only a little afraid of ghosts,” Louis said. OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

come on jump out at me by yoursongonmyheart / @yoursongonmyheart [28k]

“you know, i offered for you to fake out me, but, i don’t know anything about you other than you being my biggest celebrity crush probably since posh spice.” louis almost chokes on his chicken, “jesus christ,” he sputters. harry takes a swig of his beer with a smirk. “i was very disappointed when you didn’t say i was your celebrity crush after you came out.” louis almost cries. “you know i did plan on it. then i ran into you narrating taking a piss and talking about my ass and i thought ‘wow this kid does talk some shit’ and decided against it.” harry barks out a laugh, his ears tinged red. he takes a bite of his pizza. “i suppose i do have no filter while high.” louis rolls his eyes, “bit of an understatement, mate.” harry giggles, “whatever pal,” louis screams internally. Or, the one where actor louis tomlinson and one direction superstar harry styles try to fake a sex tape to help harry get out of the closet and they both get more than they bargained for.

Unbonded by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom [24k]

“Look,” Louis says firmly. “Last time I checked, I’m still the pack leader, so you damn well better listen to me. It was Harry who worked out what I’d been poisoned with, then nursed me back to health. And it was Harry who thwarted the plan for my second assassination attempt by literally throwing himself in front of an arrow intended for me, nearly dying in the process, which is why we’re even having this argument in the first place. So if you think I’m going to set foot outside of this hut until he’s fully healed, you’ve all seriously misread the situation, and even more importantly, you’ve all seriously misread me.” OR the one where Harry is an omega who has been cast out from his pack, Louis is the alpha leader of the pack where Harry finds a new home, Liam is an alpha with heart of gold, and Niall is a cook who can't seem to stop setting himself on fire.

The Capillaries In My Eyes Are Bursting by 5secsoflarry [14k]

Two armoured palace guards stand there, speaking with the old, widowed beta. Harry watches curiously from the space in the back, ducking down a little in an attempt to hide. There have been whispers through the town of omegas being gathered and forced to the castle all week long - something about the King being ill - but Harry had thought they were only rumours….. OR Medieval times where King Louis is in a near death accident and enters a coma. The royal doctor says they have two weeks to find Louis’ true soulmate (omega) or he dies.

oh so familiar by InsightfulInsomniac / @insightfulinsomniac [13k]

When Harry transferred to the University of Mestonwood, he hoped that he'd finally fit in. As a witch, he's much less likely to feel isolated on an entirely supernatural campus, right? Wrong. Thanks to the cold-shoulder efforts of Louis Tomlinson, president of the vampire Coven, Harry still feels the sting of rejection from the most gorgeous boy on campus. It's doubly frustrating that everyone else, even Harry's only close friend, Niall, seems to think Louis is a great guy. Harry vows to actively ignore Louis in return, but his plans are foiled when his familiar, Oli, starts turning off their telepathic connection during Harry's classes. It doesn't take long for Harry to find out where Oli is disappearing to - or, rather, who he is disappearing to. A story of misguided enemies to lovers brought together by a stubborn orange tabby.

Little Dove (Series) by littleroverlouis / @littleroverlouis [11k]

I Can Be Your Vice (Pt.1) It could be his innate flight or fight instincts kicking in. His predator is closing in and he is the prey. Fear would be a rational response. After all, there is a centuries old vampire standing directly behind him. “You’re ahead of schedule, Louis.” Or Harry and Louis are FWBB (friends with bloodsucking benefits)

With Just One Look (Pt.2 prequel to Pt.1) There is no way Harry is over twenty-one. Louis would bet his right fang on it. He has an air of purity and exuberance towards strangers that is generally worn away with age and life experience. Louis has not received such a sunny greeting, bar from some golden retrievers in his neighborhood, in decades. Harry is a precious little dove. Louis feels guilty. Almost. Or Louis meets Harry at a club and wants to suck him dry.

This Is Not the End (Pt.3) “Little dove, could you please come here for a moment? You gotta help me, I’m losing my mind.” It is hard being a ‘little dove’ when you’re fifty-eight years old. Harry will always be Louis’ little dove, but it makes him chuckle as he swallows down his daily Centrum Silver multivitamin. The nickname came into his life as a wide eyed, innocent eighteen year old, along with the love of his life. He wonders, could he still refer to Louis as the love of his life when he joins him as the undead? Or Louis finally turns Harry into a vampire.

so pull me closer, why don’t you pull me close? by alwaysxlarrie / @alwaysxlarrie [9.9k]

If you ask Harry, baking and soccer go together like chocolate and cheese -- which is to say, they really, really don't. But maybe that's just because he’s less than thrilled about the lousy sous-chef partner he got paired with, Simon. If the captain of the soccer team wants to substitute players and be Harry's partner instead... well, Harry's lemons just turned into lemon meringue pie. Who is he to argue with fate?

Standing On the Edge of Falling by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation [5.8k]

“There’s a bit of a situation in one of the tenting areas, and you two are the perfect people to handle it.” “Get on with it, then.” “Some fucker’s brought a whole TV in and is streaming the England/Slovakia game. A whole crowd’s gathered, over a hundred people, at least, and it’s blocking walkways between the tents. I need you two to go shut it down.” ~~~ It’s Harry’s first security gig, and somehow, he landed Glastonbury. Unfortunately, he’s been tasked with telling a very gorgeous man that he can’t stream the football match. Things go … much better than expected.

Scared That My Worst is the Best That I’ve Got by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [5k]

So while Louis’ proposition is preposterous, it’s also the only compromise his brain seems willing to make at the moment. Harry slowly raises his head to look at Louis. He’s standing on the other side of the kitchen, elbow resting casually on the edge of the counter next to the sink. His expression is soft and patient, and there’s delicate morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows behind him, setting his outlined silhouette aglow. He looks like an angel. An angel in an old oversized adidas jumper with tattoos on his knuckles, but an angel all the same. Harry’s voice comes out mumbled and much smaller than he’d like, but it is what it is. As Louis always says. “Just shampoo?” (Or five times Louis saves Harry from himself, and one time when Louis is the one that needs the saving).

we could be enough by HelloLovers13 / @hellolovers13 [5k]

“You know I am flirting with you, right?” Louis freezes mid-bite. Just manages not to choke on his steak. Harry laughs a bit too loudly, almost like he’s nervous. “Yeah, should’ve known you weren’t the observant kind. You think I get this dressed up for a random dinner with a mate on a Tuesday night?” or Louis never imagined anyone could love him for who he truly is. Then he meets Harry.

Rapture by allwaswell16 / @allwaswell16 [3.2k]

It was New Year's Eve in Victorian London, and a lonely vampire could no longer resist the stunning lamplighter he watched night after night. Or, a vampire Harry fic because what says the holidays like Victorian vampires?

Lights Are So Bright by QuickedWeen /@becomeawendybird [2.1k]

Newly first-string quarterback Louis Tomlinson mentions enough times in interviews that he's a fan of mega-famous popstar Harry Styles that people start to notice. At least one person does...

This was really fun to make and I'll do my best to keep monthly recs on some kind of a schedule, probably will be the first week of the next month.

Happy reading everyone!

[defectivefanboy]

Hey there! I’ve read a few of your posts now and I truly enjoy your writing, you’re very good at it ^^

I was wondering if I could request an Alastor x gender neutral reader who is similar to Beetlejuice (personality and power wise). Like, how did he feel about them at first? And how did it progress into more of a relationship.

If not, that’s completely alright! I hope you have a great rest of your day <3

~ 🕷️🕸️

yessir!! this is actually the first time (and second for good measure) that I watched Beetlejuice fully through.

I was wondering if I could request an Alastor x gender neutral reader who is similar to Beetlejuice (personality and power wise). Like, how did he feel about them at first? And how did it progress into more of a relationship.

Overall notes: Stories written on this blog are GN until specified. While this story uses they/them pronouns, and I don't mind female readers on my blog, I do not write for y'all, and if you are a fetishizer fuck off????????????????? ew.

C/W: Cursing, Mentions of Pervertedness, its Beetlejuice, You're canonical Jesus Christ /j, or am I?, Dark humor, Possessive Alastor, Mentions of Bite marks, Dirt ball reader, just reader being gross here and there, nothing too much, youre Beetlejuice, reader has universal rizz

Notes: If you read the C/W warnings it was real late leave me alone. you'll understand when you get there. writing this my mind kept straying and just wanted to write Alastor love because god holy fuck I love him. Im an actual slut for domestic alastor I could write him all day.

The Radio Show...

Oh he's truly interested in you. Not remotely romantic or even platonically, but he is interested (at least at first)

Lets be real quick, he knows hes in hell, but what IN the hell is he looking at.

And what was that outfit you were wearing??? Did you just get out of prison prom???

But your first meeting with him was... interesting to say the least

But then again I think all your interactions are interesting (always more, never less)

But damn. He just had to think the 'sinner' was new to hell and could easily get a quick bite

Poor Alastor really thought the 'sinner' that looked around hell like a lost child as he strolled up with his uncanny smile

Last thing he expected was a jumpy, sporadic, and unfortunately a bit more then a little bit of a pervert.

The record stopped more than a few time at your comments–- Sorry Alastor.

And it had only been a few minutes of meeting you (rip)

And to be honest with you. come here. little closer

He did not know what in all of hell you were trying to pitch to him

He couldn't even get a word in with how fast you talked

And how many voices you did, you basically had a conversation to yourself.

"Ghost can't even scare humans away anymore, pfft. Can't you believe that shit. The last jack offs wouldn't even call me, I had to get some human girl to do it. Is it weird it happened twice? Second time her mom was dead! Gets funnier each time."

Oh?

Humans?

Now you have his interest

And you were able to travel to the human world

"So you're a hell born demon then, correct?" Alastor asked quirking a brow at the questionable individual in front of him, who quickly stopped talking to, well, themselves and snapped their head to him. They seemed to had just gotten here... or gotten back, as their clothes were slightly tussled and their hair was flying everywhere

With a quick dusting of your clothes you straightened your posture. Clearing your throat you spoke in a flat monotone voice. "Well, no actually, uhm, I was born in a manger inside of a barn, my mother, was a virgin and my step father Jospeh was a real piece of work let me tell you that. Died for your sins, y'know, should be thanking me."

This is the first time the radio show had gone radio silent... before he walked away.

Alastor had met a lot of demons, probably killed even more.

Hell he has even put up with that horny spider, but this was the first time he had to take a breather from another sinner? demon? enigma?

But damn it all to hell, he was curious

He had been for so long and he had only interacted with lower hellborn demons.

The occasional Goetia or hell royal would make a public appearance, but that that was all.

Never had he interacted with someone who went from hell to the human world on the daily

The first few meetings he truly tried to keep his distance, keyword tried

But you can only keep a person who teleports around at a distance for some long

Though it to end in you being pushed back by his microphone when you got a bit too close on accident more often then not

But overall he enjoys each of your meetings, enjoy being used loosely

He was more interested in the ever changing world of humans

You only get as knowledgeable of the new world as it comes in, but you have to find them

So having a way to always keep updated he truly enjoyed.

He kinda saw you as, well, while he would say a mole, as you get him information

Not that you honestly realize, you kinda just talk about random shit

He sees you as well, as uh, ahem...

"Quite the squirrelly fellow you are, aren't you?" He quipped with a smile on his face. The both of you walking along one of the many roads of hell as you talked about your latest excursion to the human world. Giving him a confused look you gave him a side eye a you spoke. "Now, what do you mean by that, hm? I don't storage tree nuts in my cheeks, I storage metal nuts in them." Taking your hand you drug into your cheek and pulled out a rusted nut before offering it to him. In which he squatted away with his microphone.

"No."

Alastor in or out of a relationship now seems like the calm one out of the pair whenever you two are together

And he always has a tilt to his head whenever he's with you as if he's always curious about your next move (well bc he honestly is)

Getting into a relationship is simple to him, but not to you.

He had to explain a few times (many times) to you that you two were on a date while out. Thank the lord he has more patience then he let's on

Truly he's only patient with you after learning he'll get no where either way

He tried threatening at one point, but it didn't work when you tried getting him to work for you in the human world.

Spoiler alert: that also didn't work

Alastor did tried to ask you out in a traditional way. Taking you to dinner, albeit at a cannibal restaurant, he really didn't know what you ate

He was disgusted when he found out, almost gagged, had to take a moment for himself

But he tried asking you out in a nice, classy, quiet place.

Spoiler again: didnt work

His question when right over your head.

"Go out? Aren't we already out? What we doing then? How more out do you wanna be? Gotta say though, never been to a place this fancy, must got some walking cash, huh? You know we could start a business together I be the brains, face and you can be..." You droned on as your hand flared around as you spoke. Alastor stared at you as static rumbled from his chest, one eye twitching in annoyance. Sighing he shook his head as he stared with a smile. Maybe you didn't understand what he was asking, or maybe you did. To be honest he doesn't know how much you know, but maybe letting you go on about whatever it is you're planning and get a deal out of you.

Nothing big, just a small pact that you two are "partners."

Cheeky Bastard.

He did tell you eventually someday, he's not heartless

Don't mention that it was after he had convinced you to move in his home (or apartment?? he staying at the hotel?? like??)

But it's another story for getting you to take a shower or a bath.

While Alastor isn't a clean freak or anything he much rather keep his house clean and smell free.

Alastor had quite a few sleepiness nights when you decided to sneak into his bed without a shower.

He almost banned you from the house until you agreed to take a shower after 'work'

now onto the good part

While he doesnt enjoy physical touch from anyone, only part taking in it when he's making someone uncomfortable

He settled on the fact you were gonna keep making every effort to get into his personal space

You only found out he enjoyed having you near him when your items from the guest room you had been staying in were now in his room

Be it having a hand placed on the middle of your back or letting you fiddle with his fingers as you talk

He always finds a way to get a touch in on a daily basis

What can he say? he likes to have a hold on what's his

That's another thing

He's a possessive lover, or person in general but ignore that right now

He just doesn't understand

Why do you have so much rizz

Both sinners and hell born demons seem to love you

And he hates it

Loathes it

If we wanted to get Nsfw real quick

He likes to leave bites and marks on you so even humans know where you belong <3

Going back to sfw

On the outside, beyond the walls of his home. He's well, he's Alastor

Cunning, Cruel, and Evil

But inside? .......Hey Siri, can you domestic a deer?

We already know he enjoys cooking, his mothers recipes are always a hit. He does have to convince you to eat something if it's new.

But he's decently domestic within the comfort of his own walls. As domestic as he can be will a feral dog in his home now. At least you're potty trained, right? Right??

He always enjoyed being alone, especially when he needed a break.

But as weird as it was for the first few months

Going to bed alone in a quiet home, everything neat and orderly was always a treat for the

just to wake up to a god awful mess like a hurricane had hit only the inside of the house.

Thankfully he's unable to fully freak out when he feels the weight of a body laying on him.

Arms wrapped securely in place as he moved around trying to view the full scope of the mess.

The look of defeat only rested on his face for a moment before he was pulled down by striped arms.

"What are staring at, red?..." You said half asleep as you pulled on the back up his shirt collar. "it's still too early to worry about the mess. Come back to bed" He gently shook his head in disgust opening his mouth to speak before getting cut off by a strong pull of his shirt. "I was setting up... sandworm traps. Couldn't't let them get my dearest deer." Alastor gave you a questioning look wanting to ask, but knowing better not too.

Sighing he let himself relax back into the comforter and wrap his arms loosely around as you laid right back on top of him. One of his hands softly treaded through your messy hair causing you to sigh and melt into his body. It was a quiet few moments until he had a passing thought.

"Wait... deer with an A, correct? Correct??"

He wasn't getting an answer from you anytime soon...