#he wanted to be loved and that made him the easiest target

[fortunemars]

...okay so maybe I was wrong... And there is a good way to make a Zane redemption story without sacrificing too much depth in other characters... I applaud you bc this is genuinely huge brain thinking...

@panicataphmausinsanity okay so Zane HC's LETS GOOOOOOOO

Before we start trigger warning for like, child abuse and torture and shit. Seriously this gets dark. Zane redemption must come at a price >:D

So. Something interesting to me in regards to Zane is how in MCD, He's like, this evil, terrible human being, but in Mystreet, he's like, a semi functional human being who can be a NOT bad person and NOT do bad things. And so I got to thinking.

I don't think Zane was born a bad person.

Personally, I kind of hate the way Jess wrote Zane. Like, yes, evil for the sake of evil is great and all, but like. In season one and two, Zane was this overarching antagonist who was always one step ahead of the cast and plotting and having a good time being a paice of shit.

And then season 3 comes around and now he's a shadow knight, on the run, has PTSD...

Look, I'm not knocking the guy for having PTSD. I'm just saying that the way it's portrayed kind of makes him seem like a whimpery coward. AGAIN, NOT KNOCKING PTSD!!

I think the position that Zane found himself in season 3 was a PERFECT set up for a redemption arc and it makes me SO MAD that it didn't happen.

So I guess I have to do it myself apparently -_-

I've been thinking a lot about Zane. I don't want him to stop being evil. Not right away. So we keep what happened in the first two seasons the same. He's a cackling maniac that has killed a shit ton of people and is on his father's payroll.

And then he dies.

(skill issue lol)

Anyway, Zane is dead. But he's also Zane, so of course he weasels his way out of being dead. And then he gets tortured and is subjected to the same suffering he condemned so many others to yada yada yada PTSD bleh.

Everything seems to be the same so far.

But then he breaks out if the nether. Still, we're on track, right?

He gets captured, he gets expedited to Phoenix Drop, he gets interrogated, it's all the same.

But here we find a canon divergence. Instead of being absolute dumbasses, they don't bring him into the nether. Let's scrap that plot point entirely.

Instead, we're going to let Zane bake in prison for a while!

Here are the main issues that make Zane irredeemable.

1. He's killed like, a shit ton of people, for funsies ig

2. He killed Vylad.

3. He destroyed Aaron's village.

Let's keep those things in mind.

So he's in prison. While in prison, Garroth starts to visit him (along with Travis but shhhh we'll get to him another day) and just. You know. Be angry.

Garroth has seen Zane as a spoiled brat his entire life. He's always been their father's favorite. He's always had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He's always been willing to do whatever it takes for power. He's greedy. He's psychotic. Garroth hates him.

But Zane is Garroth's brother. And Garroth is the type of golden retriever, gold hearted, kind type of character to still love his brother even if he hates him.

That doesn't mean he goes in and is like, nice to him though. Nope. Garroth goes to visit him and nine times out of ten it devolves into a screaming match where Zane antagonizes him the entire time and Garroth yells at him for being a shitty human being.

And then one day Phoenix Drop is attacked and Zane escapes.

They track him down eventually. When they find him, they strike a deal with him. Due to Irene related shenanigans they need his expertise as a scholar of Irene to figure out some more stuff for Aphmau. In exchange, they'll protect him from the Shadow Lord (who he pissed off by stealing one of his soul fragments lol Zane behavior).

Eventually they're able to establish a rapore with Zane. Garroth still gets a migraine whenever they have a conversation. Vylad still refuses to speak to him (oh btw he's visiting from his nether revolution vacation just so u know) and Aphmau still wants to tear out his guts for killing the love of her life or whatever, but he becomes manageable. They can like, stand him. A little bit. Slightly.

And then Zianna gets kidnapped or whatever. So they go rescue her. But when they get back to Phoenix Drop they forget to mention the fact that Zane is like. There and in the wild and not currently killing entire villages worth of people.

So Zianna rolls up to Phoenix Drop and gets jumpscared by her youngest son and also, notably, Zane is NOT happy to see her. He shuts the front door in her face. It's hilarious even though Garroth doesn't think of it that way.

So, now we have our key players all in one place. Garroth, Vylad, Zane, and Zianna.

Let's say they have to all go find an artifact toghether or something and they need Zianna there because it's related to something she knows and they need Zane there because of Irene lore reasons. they go on this mission. One day, they sit and set up for the night, set up bedrolls, whatever. They're lounging around the fire and talking when Vylad eventually mentions his time as a shadow knight in the nether and something about torture.

Zane blinks, and, having not been included in the conversation initially, buts it to say,

"Oh, please. Don't tell me getting tortured by those amatures was DISTRESSING for you. I would have thought father's methods would have given you thicker skin."

The others bristle and start scolding him, of course, because Zane is like, the reason Vylad became a shadow knight in the first place. But Vylad himself, who is very observant and hard to antagonize, latches into something Zane said.

"Methods? What methods?" He says. He says it sharply, too.

Of course, Zane doesn't pick up on this. He just rolls his eyes.

"Don't tell me you forgot. Father had a whole floor dedicated to torture and loved collecting new methods from around the region. I think he even had a historian employed who would research for him..."

"What?" Garroth says, stunned out of his anger.

Zianna has gone silent. So has everyone else, and now they're watching with baited breaths.

"So what? What would that have to do with me?"

And for the first time that they've ever seen, Zane looks... Puzzled.

"What, did he go easy on you? Didn't you talk back to him all the time? Once, after just asking him a question, he had two of my nails pulled. Shadow Knight torture was child's play in comparison," he shrugs, then takes a bite out of his stale price of bread.

There's silence.

Zane looks back at all of them, confused and now kind of pissed off. He looks like he usually does when he feels like he's about to be scolded for saying something crass. Except, that's not what happens. Instead, Vylad looks him in the eye for the first time since Zane killed him, and with the most emotion they've ever heard from him, says,

"What?"

Zane hums.

"Come on. Don't play dumb. He hated you. Im sure he must have sent you to the "torture basement" at least once. You got on his nerves constantly,"

Garroth makes an aborted movement, like he's going to stand up and rush him, but Vylad stops him with a flick of his hand. And then Vylad starts doing what he does best. Interrogating him.

So remember that list, right? Let's reframe a few things.

Zane was not the favorite child. Garroth was.

Garte was a paice of shit. Garte hated Vylad. But he also hates Zane. Why wouldn't he? Vylad was his wife's affair child, sure, but Zane, Zane was Zianna's spitting image.

When Zane was little, he used to take snails and out them in the grass after it rained. He uses to clamor for his mother's pastries just like his brothers. He was a normal child, and he was NOT born a psychopath.

But Garte had a thought, one day.

Wouldn't it be funny... If he made his wife think he WAS one?

Wouldn't it be funny to punish her that way? Wouldn't it be funny to turn Zane into a terrible person, and have her think it was for no reason? Make her think that she birthed a psychopath? How much would it hurt her? How much would she weep?

Garte used to punish Zane for Vylad's joy. One of Vylad's laughs would equal one slap to the face. One side remark in defence of their mother would equal one hour locked in his father's study closet in his office.

Garte turns Zane against himself brothers. And the best part in his mind?

He makes Zane believe that they know about all of it.

He tells Zane that his mother knows about it. That his brothers don't care that he's beaten. That Vylad does things so he gets punished on purpose.

Zane grows up thinking that his brothers probably go through this too. He grows up thinking that his mother just doesn't love him. And so he doesn't say a thing.

Garte starts having him tortured instead of superficially physically abused? He says nothing.

Garte makes him become a priest of Okasis even though the consequence of failing the academy is death? He says nothing.

Garte would encourage Zane to blugeon animals to death and bring them to Zianna and laugh at her horrified face from afar. Garte encourages Zane to say psychotic things while they're eating dinner, and watches as his family becomes more and more convinced Zane is a monster.

Until Zane is one.

But this reframes a few things.

The people Zane killed? It was under orders. He eventually became his father's right hand man. Most of his overarching goals have been in service of his father.

For Aaron's village, we'll stick a pin in that one, but long story short, Aaron's village had been planning a coup that night under his wife's orders. Zane had them killed under his father's orders so they could eliminate them as political neighbors. He let Aaron live out of pity.

And Vylad.

Basically, remember when I said that Garte used to punish Zane according to Vylad's actions?

One day, Vylad gets into an explosive argument with Garte defending Zianna. And Garte, again, without the other's knowing, has Zane tortured. Except this time it's for a WEEK STRAIGHT.

So when Zane gets out. He's. Very unstable.

And then he comes across Vylad in a semi secluded area.

And Vylad is acting like he did nothing, and all he's ever done is make Zane suffer, and Zane hates him hates him HATES HIM--

And so he snaps. And he kills him.

Keep in mind, though, Zane thinks this is all normal. He doesn't realize that killing his own brother has traumatized him. He doesn't realize that he's a victim of abuse. He doesn't realize that what his dad did is not okay because he THINKS HIS FAMILY KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED, and if they didn't contradict his abuse, then this must be normal. He thinks that Vylad has probably been tortured too. He thinks Garroth is their father's favorite because in his mind he's determined that Garroth not receiving any attention from their father is a GOOD thing because ATTENTION EQUALS TORTURE to him.

And this reframes a few things. His constant bid for power? It's not greed, it's DESPERATION. Power makes him feel safe. Hurting others makes him feel powerful because that's how his father had power over him.

His highly volatile and violent personality? It's l he's ever known. Do you have ANY idea what torture could do to a child? He has severe PTSD. Like, severe and repressed and his outburst are more common when he's uncomfortable or anxious or experiencing any negative emotion, which is often.

Garte took Zane's empathy from him. Turned him against his family. Made him into a monster. With these types of characters, I imagine it would probably be very difficult for them to redevelop their emotions and empathy because if they do that, they would have to face their whole mountain of trauma and the guilt of all the lives they've ruined.

I think eventually, after a lot of work, Zane does eventually regain his empathy. It probably finally sinks in during a small gathering. His mother makes her famous cake. Zane has long gotten used to being excluded during these sorts of things, but then...

His mother slides a plate of cake right in front of him.

Strawberry.

His favorite.

And she smiles at him.

This is probably after they found out about Garte being a peice of shit. Maybe a few months.

All Zane has ever wanted is to be loved. Maybe he didn't know it, but when he takes a bite of his mother's strawberry cake for the first time in decades and the nostalgic taste registers in his brain, something snaps.

And he becomes human again.

And he realizes:

Oh.

I'm a person.

I'm a murderer.

I'm a monster.

LMAO WAS THIS COHERENT SORRY PANIC I TRIED MY BEST I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE OSIBWIBDIBSIBU

[thedivineden]

needing more izuku stuff !!!!

would love any kind of perv izuku🙏‼️

also love the writing style!

I LOVE IZUKU AND IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT ABOUT HOW GROSS AND PRECISE HE’D BE IF HE WAS A PERVERT ESPECIALLY TO THE NEW MOM NEXT DOOR !!! I GOT SLIGHT CARRIED AWAY BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, THANK YOU FOR THIS INSPIRATION AND BEING MY FIRST REQUEST! HOPEFULLY OTHERS WILL COME FORWARD WITH ANOTHER REQUEST! ૮꒰ྀི◜༝◝ ꒱ྀིა

Mentions of: stalking, surveillance, dubcon/noncon, single mom, self-gratification, drugging, manipulation, insecurity, paranoia, intruder staging/descriptive imagery.

♤ Pervert Izuku is perfect by design; very sweet, humble but it’s not overbearing, helpful, handy, and most importantly, good with kids.

 ♤ You quickly became his target, and the day you moved in, Izuku insisted on helping you carry everything in. Naturally, as many mothers, you were apprehensive to accept the newly acquainted young man inside your home and denied his assistance. Izuku quickly responded by mentioning his own single mother, how he only wants to make her proud, and how she would hit him across the head if he didn't help you.

 ♤ Izuku is a wonderful liar; he did not lie about his single mother, nevertheless he has already made her proud in many ways. Izuku utilized the excuse of "helping you move in" to remember and photograph your house layout, taking special note of where your bedroom would be and the most convenient entry points to reach you in the smallest and quickest span of time.

 ♤ Naturally, you offered him money in exchange for his services, but Izuku politely rejected and instead requested that you prepare him a dinner. He could tell you were stressed; he notices the absence of a band on your finger and the bags under your eyes. You would be his easiest target, and invading your life would be his number one priority: 

 You prepare a three-course dinner for him and yourself granting his request. When he is done hauling everything in, he comes to the dining room and much to your surprise, attempts to assist you in setting the table. You lead him immediately to the table he put together for you and tell him to wait, which is when the true game begins. 

 Izuku did exactly as you said, making sure to move his seat closer to yours and graciously thanking you for your hospitality and the meal you made for him. He could see the glint in your eyes and the darkness surrounds you temporarily lifting. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me move everything in.  It’s been really hard so I really appreciate it.” 

 The entire meal is spent in conversation between you two as you tell him about your life, including learning that your high school love cheated on you for years, which finally led to a divorce and your move into his neighborhood. When the moment is right, Izuku puts his hand on yours, and you give him a beautiful grin in return, but you move your hand away.

 Izuku's tactics are like that of a predator expertly pursuing his prey; he is aware of your vulnerability and can practically hear you berating yourself for falling for the first man who shows you kindness and telling yourself that you should be concentrating on your children and your collapsing life.

 Over the course of the dinner, you two exchange stories and laughs. Izuku apologizes for the affair and divorce, saying your former spouse is a moron who would never screw a woman like you. He noticed the glimmer in your eye growing, but he wasn't prepared for you to hurry him out the door with leftovers and a heartfelt thank you. It left the young man both perplexed and interested. Making you his and his alone was the only thing on his mind.

 Over the next year, Izuku slowly becomes a household name, a part-time nanny, and a full-time pervert. It was all apart of his five step plan:

1. Slow and steady wins the race. Your love languages consist of acts of service and words of affirmations. Make a point to always bring flowers, to help out whenever he had the chance, and passionately express how great of a mother and person you are.

2. Whenever he had a chance to be in your house he’d place or fix any cameras and mechanism he had. 

3. After a year, if you voice the three phrases: “I don’t know what I do without you”, “"I value you and our relationship so much", “"I'm so thankful for you" that’s when he’ll begin to prepare the trap and catch his prey.

  The first line was spoken during a storm that left you without electricity, but fortunately Izuku had a generator. You had a lovely day with your baby at his house. You three cooked dinner, baked s'mores, and ended with watching finding Nemo with your head on his shoulder you whispered, "I don't know what I'd do without you.”

  The second line describes an evening you spent returning home from work. You asked him if he wanted dinner after you returned home, clearly agitated, and thanked him for watching your daughter. Izuku moved quickly toward you, stroking your arms and inquiring as to how you were doing. When you told him about your day, you began to break down. You explained how your manager and clients yelled at you, and your supervisor had gone over the articles you had sent in and given you a 24-hour window to create another one. Izuku gave you reassurance right away and even offered to assist with brainstorming and drafting another piece.

 The third line came the same night, in the midst of Izuku consoling you, you took it as an opportunity to lean in and kiss him. You were stuttering, hastily apologizing and ushering him out the door. You expressed his importance in your life as a friend and would never want to make him uncomfortable. You shut the door before allowing him to say a word. Izuku went home and didn’t come see you until 3 days later. This is when the nexts steps continue:

4. Izuku will allow the connection to become awkward, flirty, and stressful. He will sexually frustrate you and infiltrate your home. The eventual effect of this phase will be sexual frustration, confusion, and exhaustion. Izuku's purpose is to make you hungry for him and afraid in your home so you invite him over more often.

 Izuku took his time in this phase, offering to watch your toddler while you worked. When you arrived home, dinner would be ready, and after you finished eating, Izuku would draw a bath with a glass of wine waiting for you and before the evening concluded you would always receive a massage from the talented man. Izuku's hands would droop and became eager with each massage. Your robe would drop lower, revealing more of your body, and he noticed it. This action indicated to him that you were mentally ready for him to take you somewhere. 

 When he came up to you in the kitchen, his footsteps were typically silent, but you could always feel his presence behind you. Izuku would be positioned behind you, gazing over your shoulder and begging you to feed him. You'd then turn around with a spoon, realizing how close he is and how he has you encircled and blocked on each side by his hands on the counter. The look in his eyes indicates hunger, but you both know it is not for whatever is in the pot.

 Izuku persisted in his antics, being a charming, flirty, and ideal man! Then at night he’d break into your house in one of three ways: through your bedroom window, your toddlers bedroom window, or directly through the front door. Why? The most horrifying ways for someone to enter your house are through the front door without leaving any trace behind, through the window in your own bedroom, or through the window in your child's bedroom.

 In an effort to instill fear in you, Izuku would, for the following thirty days, take objects you knew you had put away or steal a sock or piece of your underwear, forcing you to search for the missing items every wash day. He even went so far as to break in while you were at work and replace your usual nightly prescription with sleeping pills so he could record himself enjoying your nude body in front of him. He would cover your lips with a damp paper towel and brush his angry head over it so as not to shock you or cause any physical reactions.

   Whenever he leave his through your windows he he leaves a flower at the base, and set off a trigger mechanism rendering noises that sound like a break-in once he’s at home to wake you to his gift. As a result of all he did, you were always left crying and at his door in the middle of the night with your sleepy toddler on your hip, pleading with him to let you and her stay.

 Throughout these nights you two would either stay up talking about what happened or you’d end up in his arms sleep. His plan has one more final phase before he can officially steal your heart, mind, body, and soul:

 

5. Izuku needed to create a situation where he’s saving you or you and your child.

 Over the course of the following two weeks, Izuku took steps to ensure that you would be left helpless and vulnerable. A staging firm from another country was called upon to break into the house, give you and your child enough time to hide, give Izuku enough time to enter, and have extra staff on standby as police officers. The break-in happened a week later, and although you were already having trouble sleeping due to your ongoing anxiety and terror, it's real now, and you're terrified.

 You jump out of bed, make your way to your daughter’s room, and you both hide in a small nook in the back of your daughter’s closet. Your heart is pumping in your ears and the fear on your daughter’s face is heartbreaking and nauseating. You silently prayed with your eyes closed, you could hear the people rummaging through the house, and talking just loud enough for anyone in the house to hear. Then, a knock invokes silence through the house, you thought the intruders speaking was bad, this is ten times worse. Then the doorbell rings out breaking the silence and then your name could be heard. 

 The tension in your chest is temporarily lifted when you hear Izuku's voice at your door asking for you. Perhaps you two will be fine, but the sound of quiet shuffling can be heard once the key lock turns. You longed to leave the closet and warn him about what awaits him, but your child's safety comes first, and you know he would agree. When the front door opens, you hear scuffling and curses flying; you protect your daughter's ears when you hear: "Get him to the floor, fuck him up, kill him." You couldn't control your breathing, and it felt like all the blood rushed to your ears.

 The next thing you hear is what you believe to be a gunshot, and your body stiffens until you hear Izuku shouting to you and sirens outside. You clutch your babygirl tightly in your arms and rush out to him, yelling his name. Coming around the corner, you collide with him and collapse into his arms. You glance up at him and see the injuries he inflicted on the attackers, which makes you cry even harder. He assures you that everything is fine and expresses care for you and your daughter's well-being.

 After the "police" arrive, Izuku is by your side as you describe what you heard, did, and what has been going on for the past few weeks, but this is not new information. Izuku particularly called this firm since they are recognized for providing discretion for a lump sum of money and the ability to construct any fictitious scenario by any means necessary for as long as the client pays. He doesn't mind the glances he gets from various "officers"; he knows what they're thinking; he's sick, and he knows it.

Izuku insist that you and your daughter stay at his house until everything was handled and the investigation was completed. The officials authorized you and him to get essentials for you and your daughter. Everything is numbing; you feel powerless, useless, and incapable of leading a regular life. Then comes the breakdown: you're in the toilet of the shared room with your sleeping daughter, and the last thing you expect is a knock and Izuku entering with you.

 You try to wipe your tears away quickly, but he sits down on the floor with you and draws you close. When he starts caressing your back, you clutch to him and cry even harder; you two have been stuck like that for two hours, your eyes are tired and red, but when you look up at him, all he can think about is wanting to see the same expression in the bedroom. The feel of his hard-on should have been a red flag for you; you shouldn't have leaned in, but you did, and this is what he's been looking for.

 Izuku takes full advantage of this time, savoring the first kiss between you two; he's slow at first, which is great. He grips your waist and pulls you onto his lap, careful not to break the kiss, biting your lip to secure your closeness, which is rewarded with a tiny groan from you. He moves quickly with you in his arms, being sure not to wake your sleeping daughter, and brings you upstairs to his bedroom.

 Izuku is weary of being hungry for you, of using his hand while looking at pictures of you from the cameras in your bathroom and shower; now is the time for the real thing, and he will not disappoint. He tosses you on the bed, closes and locks the door, and then leaves you in his bathroom. You were perplexed, but the heartbeat underneath stopped all warning sirens in your thoughts. Izuku emerges from the restroom with a crimson fluffy garment and begs you to put it on for him. You'd never had a man beg you to do anything, but when it came to him, he gave the word a special meaning. How could you say no?

 The smile he gives you ignites your body, and you swiftly remove your clothes and attempt to dress in the bathroom. He's quick to stop you, noticing the perplexity on your face as he timidly asks you to undress for him. You were completely flustered; it had been a long time since you had done anything intimate, and you had never stripped for anyone before. Izuku's face is crimson, which calms you down; knowing that you and him are possibly going through something together and sharing the same emotions inspires you to remove your shirt, followed by your pajama bottoms. His gaze is fixed on your body as you tease him by pulling down your bra and underpants.

 He enjoys seeing you like this; he wants to see more, touch you, and that is exactly what he does. Izuku holds you close and kisses your stomach and thighs, getting particularly close to your pussy. He brings you to the bed and softly glides his hands under both of your thighs to the back of your knees to raise your legs up. Your eyes are fixed on the ceiling, and your mind is reeling from the excitement and adrenaline of the night's events.

 He asks if you are okay, and you only hum in return, he gets in your face and asks the same thing again. You reassure him, and he asks that you keep your eyes on him. "Say it, say you'll keep your eyes on me."He swears he sees a sparkle in your large eyes, and you respond, "I will keep my eyes on you."

Then he's in between your legs like a thirsty puppy; he begins with a soft kiss, testing your waters to see what makes you squirm, moan, and quiver, and once he does, you're putty in his mouth. Izuku takes his time with you, yet he leaves no aspect of you unnoticed or ignored. His tongue seems to write incantations on your clit and slit, causing you to buck and tangle your fingers in his hair. Izuku enjoys this moment, sighs into your cunt, and continues to lick and torment your clit. He looks up at you and falls in love. Your hair is sticking to you now, pleasure is written all over your face, and he understands what you want.

He lets you to rest your legs on his shoulders, relieving the pressure, and puts a finger into your dripping hole. Your moans are beautiful, and the way you speak his name makes Izuku happy right now, but he can't leave unless you're foolish on his cock. He takes a long lick before raising his head and saying, "How does it feel, pretty?" You've always loved his pet names, which he'd occasionally say to you, but this is overwhelming. Your response is breathy and hardly coherent: "I'm- It- it feels good, please don't stop." He can feel you tighten around his fingers, which are stroking your ravenous hole, laughs, and continues to devour you.

Izuku's speed increased the knot in your gut, and you felt heated and overstimulated.His tongue and fingers are a gift from heaven. He took his time to discover your sweet spot and what feels most comfortable for you, and once he does, you're a mess. Izuku suddenly stops in front of you and plants kisses on your lips, neck, and breast. Your eyes were no longer on him; instead, they were tightly closed as you braced yourself for the surge of pleasure that was about to hit. At this moment, your body is overheating and your cunt is aching and asking to be penetrated. "Izuku~ why did you stop?"

"How much is it really yours?" His head raises, revealing tears that look ready to burst. "Use your words, sweetheart; don't cry." You lustfully and clearly tell him how much you want to be fucked until you're sore. "Anything you wish pretty," he says, laughing at your audacity. Izuku takes off his clothes fast, and he quickly gets to work on you, nuzzling your clit with his fingers and your nipples with his lips and tongue. All he wants to hear is that you plead and beg for him to fuck you, to make you his, to put another baby in you.

Izuku exclaims, "I want you to have my babies," while spreading your legs apart and nudging your clit with his irate head. "I want to make you my wife," he said, and proceeded to insert his sensitive cock into you. Izuku groans at the feeling and tells you how wonderful it is, saying, "You're so fucking warm and tight. You handle it so nicely and are so lovely and gorgeous.” His strokes got quicker and deeper with each compliment, and your cunt got tighter and your head lighter. Your groans are hypnotizing him as you encircle him with your arms and legs, pushing him to remain close. Your nails are also digging into his back. You whisper to him in a gentle way how much you've wanted him since you moved here and how you stroked yourself to the thought of him.

Izuku goes into overdrive when you tell him something he already knew, pounding your cunt repeatedly and making a valiant effort to control himself. He couldn't deny that he is just as overstimulated as you are. Ever since you moved in, Izuku has taken delight in the surveillance cameras he installed in your home, even today. As you match his beat, you draw him out of his thoughts and convert him into mush. Izuku starts to cry as he gets into you. Even when he moans in your ear after cumming in you, you simply turn him over, re-insert his dick, and ride him.

Just in case this is the last night, you want to make the most of it. Izuku's voice is cracking and his face is a beet red. He bucks into you, eager to get to his next release, saying, "I- I didn't know you-ahh~." You keep up with him and pound into him. Izuku will never be able to let anybody else have you since you were such a vision of beauty, and the way your tits bounced in his face showed how much you seized control.

"Zuku~ please, cum in me," you say, Izuku doesn’t stop even though he can feel your legs trembling. He abuses your spot forcing  you to put your hands on his chest to make yourself arch more. Your eyes are now behind your head and your loud, broken moans are coming from every hit to your sweet spot. You eventually release on his cock, which propels you forward in his arms while you cry with sheer pleasure.

You are sound asleep and Izuku kisses your head and covers you with the blanket, making sure to be quiet as he exits the room. Izuku enters his workspace, signs in to his monitor, and activates his room's camera. He collects the footage from this night, takes out the sections that don't feature you and him, stores it on a flash drive, and conceals it in his attic for later. He finally got what he wanted and like he said before, he doesn’t plan on letting you go.

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

“I'm Just going to ask it send me request to write blurbs”

Can you do a cookout blurb with Jude? With y/n? And have y/n mom teach him the electric slide dance with the rest of her family? lol it’s giving “ the best man and welcome home Roscoe Jenkins”

DANCE • JUDE BELLINGHAM

💌 I'm going to imagine he's dancing to the cupid shuffle. That seems like it's more complicated for him.

🏷️ warnings: no warnings

🏷️ author note: look at me! I finally wrote

It was summer break so you know what that meant, Jude and I were spending an evening of vacation at my parents house. Very rarely did we both get to see them. I worked hard on getting my degree and well Jude.. he was a professional footballer. Our careers clouded most of our time and we barely got much to travel and see both of our family until now.

Jude sat in the passenger seat as I drove down the road. He would be driving but he refuse to get his license.

“I'm really excited to see your mom.” He said from the passenger seat. I took my eyes off the road for a second, sneaking a glance at him before turning back to the road.

Jude loved my mother like she was a second mom to him and he was her son. They may have only known each other for 3 years but it seemed like they known each other forever.

When we arrived at my parents house. I parked the car where everyone else's was and got out with Jude. We both walked up to the front door where I knocked. After waiting for less than a minute the door swung open revealing my mom. Within seconds I was in her arms, haven't seen her in so long it was nice to finally get the hug I've been waiting for.

When I pulled back Jude was quick to take my place and my mother's arms. My mom laughed as she hugged the 6 foot man tightly.

When he finally pulled away she spoke.

Come in. Your father is busy on th grill try to cook us a meal. Also your cousins are here.”

me and Jude walked in and greeted everyone as we passed by. A few of my nieces and nephews made the trip to the backyards longer as they tried to talk to Jude but eventually we made it outside.

Outside the atmosphere was pumping. Music played loudly over the back yard, people everywhere and the fumes of delicious food being made clouded the area. I gave jude a kiss on the cheek before splitting with him to greet more of my family.

twenty minutes went by before I was finished talking. I found Jude sitting on a lawn chair a beer nestled in his hand as he talked to my mom who was sitting beside him. I plopped down on the other side and stayed quiet. Jude knew I was there seeing how his hands rested on my thigh a few seconds as I got comfortable.

A few more minutes went by, my mom and Jude talking about football. That was before the music changed. Good lord it was my mom's favorite song.

I groaned knowing what was coming next.

My mom popped right up happy as can be. Her first target was me of course. I instantly hesitated, I was in no shape or form interested in dancing today.

“Come on y/n, you know you want to.”

I shook my head staying glued to my seat. She wasn't going to stop which means I have to get out of this some way some how so I used my closest target. Jude!

“Why don't Jude dance with you?”

Jude's eyes grew wide as soon as I said that. He looked betrayed and I couldn't blame him. I smiled at him shyly hoping he'll do it and take me out of my misery.

Luckily for me he did.

“Sure.” He stood up. I sighed in relief.

“but I'm not good at dancing. I'm kind of white.” he joked.

My mom laughed ignoring his comments, dragging him into an open space where she can teach him correctly.

I was attentive as I watched them. Every now and then I would giggle to Jude messing up the easiest move humanly possible.

My mom stayed patient as she taught him and eventually… one hour later he finally got the dance correctly.

“Did you see all that?” He asked me as he walked back over to me.

I smiled as I nodded. “Yeah and I kinda filmed it so expect it to be on the internet tomorrow.”

Jude rolled his eyes and sat back down beside me.

“You know you're going to have to repay me right?”

I nod once again. Leaning closer to him I whispered in his ear. “I know and when we leave here later I plan to give you what you want.”

[charliedawn]

(is it alright if I send a request?! Feel free to ignore this if not. I've heard there are some new rules regarding that?) So what if their s/o had to travel somewhere outside the country/state (could be something work/family related) for like a week or so, which Slashers would take it the hardest/easiest (basically who has separation anxiety and who is chill lol)?! Hopefully this makes sense, sorry for bad english?! I have a feeling Brahms (and maybe Jason) are in the first category, but your stories are always full of suprises so 🤷

Mature themes mentioned. You've been warned.

Jason would be the worst when it comes to abandonment issues. He would be too afraid of you leaving him forever.

He'd come up with various excuses to make you stay.

He'd wrap his arms around you and refuse to let you go. The man is touch-starved. He'd beg to come with you.

If you didn't let him ? Well...I think he'd be miserable.

Jason *whines and cries against your shoulder while holding you close* : "Stay. Please. Stay."

For him, to speak takes tremendous effort—so when he does ? That means it is important.

Do not leave the poor man alone without anything to contact you with, or you'd come back to a mess. He'd have turned the whole house into a target practice.

And believe me, you don't want to be in the way of his machete...

Brahms would be close second after Jason. He'd make you stay by any means necessary.

Brahms *breathes heavily* : "DO NOT LEAVE ME !"

His parents told him they would be gone for only a few days—but they never came back.

He wouldn't let you do the same.

He tried to get Greta to stay, but it failed. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Brahms *grabs you and groans* : "If you leave me, I'll find you...I'll find you, Y/N."

The way he uttered your name made you shiver. Brahms would be close to a break down if you were gone for a few minutes. Imagine his state if it was for more than a few days ?

The moment you got back, he'd be borderline hysterical and crush you in a bear hug—crying and sobbing for you to never leave him again.

Bo has serious abandonment issues as well but—unlike Brahms or Jason—he would be more radical in his ways to make you stay.

Bo *grabs your arm and grits his teeth* "OH NO YOU DON'T !"

Bo was hated by his mother and it only aggravated his loneliness until he became...well...very self-centred and afraid of the pain.

The moment he gets attached to someone—their freedom is of no interest to him whatsoever.

Bo would rather tackle you to the ground, attach you or even have sex with you for you not to leave him.

That redneck isn't a quitter. Good luck trying to make him stay away.

"WHO THE F*CK GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO LEAVE ME, HUH ?!"

Yeah...He's not going to cry, but you might. Sorry.

And in the category worse abandonment issues we also have Vincent. Of course the other twin wouldn't be very far from the first.

Vincent is...gentler than Bo ? He wasn't hated by his family. He was actually rather liked.

So, his wouldn't be as bad—but still.

There is a reason he wanted to make all his wax statues from actual people. He is scared of being lonely...He likes to be surrounded.

And since all the people in his town treated him and his family as freaks—he couldn't make a lot of connections apart to his brothers.

He was lonely. And hence, he'd be afraid to lose the only person he ever cared about than them. You.

So, he'd be very hesitant to let you go and try to make you stay with gifts and soft touches. Try to make you understand how much you mean to him before eventually letting you go. Just so you know that you'd be taking a part of him with you.

You might be surprised, but Pennywise belongs to the category of the slashers who would be very upset by the lack of physical proximity.

Indeed, even though he hates physical touch, he is still clingy when it comes to the presence of the people he loves—one of the reasons why he stays with Penny.

So, he'd be upset, a little bit more moody than usual without you around. He'd be constantly looking at the road and unconsciously hoping you'd come back.

Pennywise *sighs deeply to himself* : "Come on, you old clown...Don't be so stupid. Come on. Stop thinking about...about..."

He'd fight against his inner demons and believe that you'd come back on your own...until the very end.

"...Oh, you're leaving, human ?"

Surprisingly enough, Penny isn't as clingy as people think he is.

He does like physical contact a lot and would be very sad to see you go, but he also knows he is a god and would be able to get to you whatever happens.

Penny is confident in his abilities, maybe too much.

So, he'd keep a smile on and giggle while waving to you when you go.

But, remember...

He's always watching.

You try to escape ? He'd know.

And he'd hunt you down. He'd make you regret ever trying to escape. He'd drag you back if he has to.

Penny *giggles darkly* : "Aww...Poor poor Y/N. Don't look so sad. We'll be together forever. Isn't that what we wanted ?"

Freddy would take it badly, but old habits die hard. He'd find a way to blame you and move on...no matter what.

"Ya think you can hurt me, huh ? Well, I've got news for you, ~sweetheart. You can go. I can always find ya a replacement."

Douchebag attitude is Freddy's defense mechanism.

You want to leave ? Fine. He'll find a way to fill the hole. Booze. Brothels. Chaos...

Whatever he can do, he'll do. Freddy needs a moral compass in order to stay in check. You and Michael fill that position.

But, if you're gone ? Then, Freddy would be missing an important part of his functioning mechanism and would go back to his old ways.

He'd be lost. Trying to find himself all the wrong ways all over again...

For his safety and others, make sure to remind him that you care for him from time to time—especially if you're going somewhere he can't follow.

And be sure to invite him into your dreams from time to time. 😉

Michael would remain himself. He'd watch you go and stay impassive. Because he knows it wouldn't change a thing.

He expects you to never come back. It would be better.

Every time he takes a knife in his hand, he wouldn't find that tingling feeling...the little voice in his head telling him to kill you.

He wouldn't be so afraid of hurting you every single day. He wouldn't have to lock his door every night because he's afraid he might wake up with your blood on his hands.

He'd even tense up when you come back.

You *smile when you see him* : "Well, hello there. Missed me ?"

Michael : "..."

You *smile falter* : "Oh...Well, okay then."

Michel *slowly approaches you and slowly hugs you*

He did miss you. He just didn't know how to tell you...or stop himself from grabbing the kitchen knife and plunging it into your heart over and over.

Michael would die before hurting you, but it doesn't mean he isn't a slasher. Or that your love for him isn't dangerous.

Arthur would put his feelings aside and try to appear cruel.

"You think I care ? ~Oh, sweetie. I've spent most of my life caring about people. Not anymore. Not ever again...So, if you want to leave me ? Go ahead. There's the door."

You have to understand, Arthur has been hurt most of his life...by life itself.

He was never lucky. He never had any friends. He was basically alone most of his life.

He wouldn't want to be kept down, and so wouldn't want the same for you. He understands the need to leave. More than anyone else.

He'd prefer you leave than stay and be miserable—like he was. So, he would never stop you from leaving, no matter if there was a risk you wouldn't come back.

Arthur *smiles and holds your hand* "...Please. Don't let me stop you. Be free."

If you want to leave ? He won't stop you.

Because that's how much he loves you.

He'd let you have your freedom. No matter what.

"I'm going out.", you said.

"Have fun, honey.", he replied. He didn't even look up from his newspapers.

"I may be out for a couple of days.", you added—waiting for a reaction.

"Sure. I'll be right here when you come back.", he answered and smiled—but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Jack is a ghost. He doesn't really have feelings anymore and can sound cold sometimes. But, it's not because he doesn't care. It's just he knows what it is to have responsibilities.

He failed at being human—and he wouldn't want the same for you.

He would of course be worried that you'd leave forever, but honestly ? He'd be happy to let you live your life as you intend.

He doesn't have abandonment issues.

Matter-of-fact, he's the one who leaves most of the time. Of course, he wouldn't want your relation to stop so suddenly and would prefer you to come clear to him.

He wouldn't get mad, but he'd feel a little more dull and emotionless inside.

He'd become even more of a ghost than he was—but wouldn't let you see.

Jack *smiles before you close the door* : "...Bring back a souvenir, alright ? Something...something nice."

And that would probably be the only attempt he'd do to hint that he wants you to come back.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

horny, sulky, kinda mean, kinda roughhousing könig thought bc it's my birthday, it's 2:50am, i have been horny like a fuckin werewolf for like a week now. f!reader ig for talk about pussy.

So our man König doesn’t keep normal hours—not that you do, but dude is two days back from KorTac and pretty much strung out on the “fun” amphetamines KorTac req officers pass out like candy if you even wave smth that looks like a form at them. So kind of out of the worst of it, exhausted, but wired and feeling kind of shitty and toothy and wound up.

He wants to fuck. Easiest way to diffuse, decompress, and he’s hard as shit by the time he lumbers his way into bed with you—over you—all around you. You were reading off your kindle, not anymore. He plucks that shit right out of your hand and puts it behind him, tangling those long, heavy limbs around you like a boa constrictor.

“Was wondering when this was going to happen,” you say, hissing when he’s none to kind in nipping the skin of your neck, wrapping his arms around your torso, pushing your breasts up under your t-shirt. “Shit, you’re moody,” it’s half a laugh, and a grapple at not immediately just folding and giving into him. You like to bite, too.

“Give me your mouth,” he grunts, nose pushed into the spot behind your ear. He’s pushing down your underwear, singlemindedly stripping you down. His words make your skin humid, “Gonna play with your pussy, want you fucking wet for me.”

You give that little bit, turning your head over your shoulder, smirking into a kiss that drives deliriously deep as soon as contact is made. König isn’t a prim kisser, but a primal one. It’s not a clean act; sloppy, yes, and somehow tinged with something kin to restrained violence. Challenge? Dick swinging? Maybe something more biblical in nature—gluttony, or greed.

He’s a fearsome thing, and he may only be beautiful to you. A needful thing, too, twisting nest of starved serpents—6 feet 10 inches and pushing-300-lbs of fucking muscle, battering-ram-body housing more than thirty years of neglect-crushed memory out for retribution.

But you never were a target. He didn’t have a choice in that matter. You both know good and goddamned well that you picked him. Everything he gets away with is at your allowance, and good fucking Christ, he loves you for it.

His cock throbs against your bare ass through his boxers as his arm wraps around you, craning his hand to pump two big fingers into your sopping cunt, angling his wrist so he can press and rub your clit with his thumb.

Man’s got his perversions, and he’s the most physical person you’ve ever met in your life. He’s had a fraction of the sex he’s fantasized about, but you’ve covered hectares of that ground since you’ve gotten together. He’s a quick study, and his mind’s a nightmare of steel trap memory. He never forgets what you like.

Two fingers turn to three, and he almost pushes it to four—assured torture, too much stretch too fast—before you snap a hand around his wrist and buck hard back against him, seething his name in warning. “Don’t fucking dare.”

“Ja. Ja, Schatzi,” he mumbles, breathing hard and too collected. You’re both sweating already, and the bed feels too damn warm, but neither of you shift. The spooning position is perfect as-is, only needs acted upon. In the mean time, he draws his slicked fingers up, leaving them in the air before your mouth in question. He groans and shudders harshly when you take the digits into your mouth, almost laughing at the ever-fresh amusement of your own taste. Salt and cold coins, your own metallic tang a complement to the one on his skin. His voice shakes as he warns, “Time, now. It’s time, bitte, aw, fuck.”

Just like that, he sinks right into you, to the base, balls pressed tight against your lips due to your body’s contortioning to meld against his form. An ungodly moan bellows out of his throat, rattling from his chest into yours, arms tightening around you. You meet the fuck-weird noises, turning your head to keen into your pillows and pressing back against him. Your hand anchors behind you on his hip, as if pinning him in place, affixing your bodies together.

You both hang in a moment of suspension, hearts pounding, minds blank, stomachs rising as if careening over a hill with momentum not sparing you a moments reprieve.

When that finally snaps, you have to force him to focus, to fuck, and he’s slow about it, grinding into you as your cunt sucks him deeper.

That huge hand you know so well drops between your legs, right back to toying with you. Oh it doesn’t take long to get you off, bent in half on your side, holding onto him and gasping as you’re hit with wave after wave of pleasure.

He’s not subtle to signal when it’s his turn. He pulls you back up and clamps his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard through the fabric of your shirt, fucking you rough, now, and unheeding, like an animal in heat. When he finally finishes, spasming and jolting all over now that his balls have been emptied into you, he leaves his heavy arm over your waist, keeping you close. “Good shit,” he mumbles, throat sticking to itself it’s so dry as he pants, parched, “we split a smoke?”

You’re not much better, even though you’ve bravado to fucking spare. “I smoke. You go the hell to sleep now,” you try to sound stern and dismissive, but there’s a laugh in your tone some place. And fondness, undeniably. You feel his grin against your neck, his body purring mhm in question. “Feel better?” you ask, at length, stroking the hair on his forearms.

“Yes,” he says after a moment, weak and sweet with relief, “can sleep now.” A pause, you can hear him thinking. “Won’t, though. Because you were an asshole and had to bring it up first.” His laugh wheezes, low and susurring.

[arjwrites]

Hi there! Found your account through a moot and wanted to maybe request a Sam x nephilim!reader where he finds out that she had been keeping that she was a nephilim a secret to try and protect him, but the truth comes out when they're on a hunt together? Maybe with established relationship?

Heaven Hellbent- Sam Winchester x Nephilim!Reader

Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Sam discovers a secret you've been keeping for years. Part 1 of the series!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: F!reader! Canon-level violence and language!

A/N: THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE ON THIS! I literally loved this request so much but really desperately wanted to do it justice, so it took me a little while. Seriously, this was one of my most re-written fics so far. I really wanted to finally get something out to you, but I have a lot more to write on this topic so I AM MAKING IT A SERIES!! This is a bit out of canon context but I really really hope you still enjoy, thank you again for such an amazing prompt and for your patience!

Ever since you had come into Sam's life, things felt lighter. You were this warm, radiating presence that had wrapped itself around every facet of his life. Sometimes, when you lay together late at night, when he would trace your body with his fingers and plant soft kisses on your forehead, he would silently pray- he still did that from time to time- addressing God, fate, the universe, or sometimes simply to whom it may concern, thanking anyone he could for the miracle of you. 

You were one of the most skilled hunters Sam had ever encountered. It felt like even having your presence on a hunt was an asset- when you were around, cases were solved quicker, monsters went down easier, and everyone walked away with far fewer injuries. He expressed this to you once, in your early years together.

“It just feels like everything clicks when you’re around. How is it that you make everything so easy?” He had asked you, eyes so full of admiration and innocence. Sweet, clueless Sammy. 

“Hmm, I must be a pretty serious good luck charm then, sweetheart. Better keep me around,” you had purred, eliminating the space that separated you in a sensual attempt to change the subject. 

Sam chuckled. “I like to think of you as our little guardian angel. My little angel.” Sam ducked down, meeting your lips with a soft, open-mouthed kiss, but not before his words sent a pang of anxiety through your body. It took a moment for you to reciprocate Sam’s kiss- you had to focus all your energy on keeping the lump that had formed in your throat from spilling to the surface.

Hiding your true identity from Sam was the hardest thing you had ever done, and yet the easiest choice you had ever made. You had been with him for years and had watched him and Dean go through so many horrible things. There were so many times you had wished you could step in- so many nightmares that could have been avoided if you had used your powers. But being a nephilim, you couldn’t. Because if you had, you would’ve had Heaven hellbent on your trail. And not just yours- anyone you had ever known or loved. Just the knowledge of your existence was a ticking time bomb, and the last thing you wanted to do was put yet another target on either Winchester’s back. 

It wasn’t without hard work that you had gone unnoticed this long. Keeping under the radar had been much easier before you had met Sam. You had spent more years than you could count traveling, reading, learning, anything to fill your seemingly endless time. You didn’t use your powers, didn’t meddle in matters of Heaven or Hell, you just kept a low profile. That was, until you crossed paths with two of the highest profiles out there- Sam and Dean Winchester.

Falling in love with Sam was the last thing you had ever planned to do. But the more time you spent with him, the more you were drawn to him. You marveled at the fact that anyone could meet him and not fall in love- a man so inherently good, so kind, practically an angel in his own right. Sometimes, it felt as though there were three forces that worked to keep you alive- your soul, your grace, and your love for Sam Winchester, all three intertwined, braided together to tether you to the Earth. 

So you stayed. You fought alongside Sam and Dean through every battle they faced. You did everything you could, finding ways to use your powers that would go undetected- by heaven and by the Winchesters. You could weaken demons and cast protection towards the boys, speed their healing subtly so that they wouldn’t notice. But there would be times when it would be far too dangerous to even let a glimpse of your powers show. Those were times that you would watch in agony as the man you loved faced horrors beyond your imagination. And those were the times you swore to protect him whenever you possibly could. 

Sometimes, however, things wouldn’t go to plan. You and the Winchesters were hunting a demon that had been causing trouble in a nearby town. Dean had suggested the three of you split up to try to catch the demon by surprise. You had protested, but the moment he barked the order, him and Sam had split, leaving you behind. You cursed to yourself, silently willing that you would find the demon first so you could smite him with ease and not risk either brother’s safety. 

Unfortunately, it hadn’t quite worked out that way. It had been well over an hour with no luck as you searched the stretch of abandoned warehouses. And neither you nor Dean could reach Sam’s phone. Fear set into your heart, a cocktail of worry and grace coursing through your veins. Your whole body was buzzing- normally, you would stop to calm it to avoid revealing yourself, but a horrible intuition left you no choice but to use it as fuel.

Meanwhile, Sam’s eyes blinked open, the dull pain in his head sharpening as he regained contact with his senses. There was a rope tied around him, anchoring him to a rickety chair and rubbing abrasively against his biceps. 

“Sam Winchester. Good to see ya, champ. Rare to find you without your partner in crime these days.” Blinking back the spots in his vision, Sam’s eyes focused on the man in front of him- scratch that, the demon, as revealed by a quick flash of black.

Sam, struggling against his restraints, retorted. “Dean will be here-” 

“Who said anything about Dean?” The demon cut him off, cocking his head. “I’m talking about your other little… friend. How’s it been, running all around town with that pet abomination of yours?” His smile was sickening, and there was something sinister about his words. He knew something Sam didn’t, and that was never a good thing.

“What are you talking about,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth.

“Nice try, Sam. Better get talking.” The demon sent Sam’s chair flying back into the wall to punctuate his command.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” The demon pulled Sam’s chair back to him.

“Oh, you really don’t know? Scout’s honor?” He paced a lap around Sam, lurking over him as spite radiated off his every stride. “That crafty little bitch. That’s too bad, I was hoping to ask you a few questions… I guess I have no use for you, but why not break the news before I kill you? Secrets don’t make friends, right?” He knelt, drawing himself eye to eye with Sam, before practically spitting the words. “That pretty little girlfriend of yours is really a-” 

Before the demon could finish the thought, he was flat against the wall and screaming his way back to Hell. Sam, still tied to the chair, had a view limited to the empty room in front of him and the vessel the demon once possessed, now slumped in a pile on the floor. He released a breath, having watched the danger dissipate, before tensing back up. Whatever was behind him was powerful. He could feel every hair standing up on the back of his neck as his pulse began to pick up rapidly. Something was screaming inside him, begging him to get out, get away. 

“Oh, Sammy. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” called the creature from behind him. The words hung heavy in the air, tinged with heartbreak. Sam froze. He knew the origin of the voice, but it couldn’t be. He whispered your name and you came running. 

“Sam, sweetheart. Are you okay?” You knelt to the floor in front of him, unsheathing your knife to cut away his binds. 

Sam simply stared in response, mouth slightly agape and confusion nestling into his furrowed brow. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“Cat’s out of the bag, I guess. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want it to happen this way.” Guilt weighed heavy on you, as if you had done something horribly wrong. No, it was always to keep him safe, you reminded yourself. 

Sam sat dumbfounded a moment longer. “What are you?” he finally coughed out. It was as if asking the question had triggered his brain to process the situation, and he tensed in preemptive self-defense. 

This was it. No going back now. “I’m a nephilim, Sam.” Saying the words out loud felt like lifting the world off your own shoulders and watching it crash down all around you.

Your confession melted Sam’s expression into a series of reactions. You watched him work through the idea as if he was tossing your heart back and forth in his hands, weighing its pros and cons. 

“Please tell me you understand why I didn’t tell you, Sam. Why I couldn’t-”

Sam’s tone was tense- his lack of reaction almost made things worse. “There’s no way you didn’t tell me about this. I’ve- we’ve known you for-”

“For years, Sam! Before you knew there were even angels, before Dean went to Hell, before you had any idea about the bigger picture! That just goes to show you, Sam- I’m not part of any of this! I’ve kept my head down for thousands of years, not raising any flags or drawing any attention to myself. And then I met you- I met you and I had to love you, Sam, I had to. And then I had to watch you go through so much pain and suffering and all I wanted to do was help however I could but I-”

“But you couldn’t. Because it would put you in danger.” If Sam had landed on a stance, you sure couldn’t decipher it. His voice was soft and gentle, but his jaw flexed and his expression narrowed.  

“It would put you in danger too, Sam. And Dean. And everyone else.” Your response was quick, calculated. You had played this conversation out too many times in your head. Except you never had thought very far beyond the why didn’t you tell me and into the well what the hell do we do now? 

There was silence for a beat.

“The demon knew.” Sam spoke somberly, like he was hand-delivering you a death sentence.

“And now you know,” you contended, defeated. A heartbroken breath wracked through your body, shuddering out of your lungs as you stabilized yourself to avoid teetering over. It was like the wind had been knocked out of you- like you and the man you loved most in the whole world had been plucked from safety and tossed out into open season.

“So what does this mean?” Sam’s tone sat on the fence between concern for your apparent emotions and the fear and confusion that had characterized the rest of your exchange. 

“It means you can’t tell a soul, Sam. Not Dean, not anyone. Anyone who knows is at risk. And it means I… should probably leave.” Your stomach churned as you spoke. All of your worst fears were materializing in front of you. Try as you might, even your powers couldn’t zap them away. Your eyes rose to meet Sam’s, and finally, you could read his expression with clarity.

“No,” Sam shook his head.

“Sam, I can’t put you in danger-”

“And I can’t lose you!” You recoiled at his outburst. “I can’t lose you.” The second utterance was softer, bearing a greater resemblance to the sweet words Sam often shared with you. 

“Sam, if anyone finds out…” you pleaded. As much as it broke your heart, you couldn’t bear to put Sam in any more danger.

“They won’t. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.” Sam’s gaze was intense as he studied you. It was as if he was learning you all over again- like you were someone brand new to him. And yet, you could still see the love in his eyes. You were still you, after all. This was just a new layer of you. Sam had promised to love you, all of you. And if nothing else, he was a man of his word. He lifted a hand to your cheek and ran a thumb over your cheekbone, as if maybe you might feel different under his touch. And when you didn’t, his last scraps of hesitance melted away. Tears welled in your eyes. 

“Just… promise me not to tell Dean until we figure this out.”

“Promise not to tell me what?”

[deepseaorchid]

Kiss Me Better - Sejanus Plinth x GN!Reader

Summary: When a certain sweet little boy offers to share his candy with you on the school yard, you find yourself with a lifelong best friend. What happens when these feelings of friendship melt into deeper feelings as you both grow older? An unfortunate event causes these two best friends to get closer than ever before, making your heart flutter.

Pairing: (Childhood bestfriends! To Lovers!)Sejanus Plinth x GN!reader, (platonic!)Clemensia Dovecote x GN!reader

Warnings: None, fluff, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: Clemensia may be OOC, I modelled Reader's interactions with her after myself and my own best friend

Accepting that you had fallen in love with sweet Sejanus Plinth, your childhood best friend was not easy. From the time you both met, Sejanus had been a constant and welcome presence in your life. One of you two always trailing after the other, hot on each other’s heels. The pair of you could often be found pouring over books in the library, comparing what you had read versus what you had not. Or, you could be found at a small cafe on the Corsus, sharing a sweet pastry or sipping tea and studying.

With the frequency of your hangouts, and the fact that you had few other friends, it was impossible for the other Academy students not to notice and gossip. You had grown accustomed to hushed whispers and jeers directed at the both of you. After all, what business does someone from the Capitol have with a District transplant who makes a display of his disdain of the very place he lives? You found that befriending Sejanus Plinth has been a lonely experience, isolating you from many, but not all of your peers. However, it only made the bond you two had stronger.

A hand slapped your shoulder, and a shrill voice called out “Tag! You’re it!” From behind you. Clemensia Dovecote sped off, her jet black hair flying out from behind her. You watched her climb up the iron monkey bars and perch at the top, flashing you a crooked smile. She had just lost her two front teeth, leaving a large gap in her smile. To you, she was the coolest girl in school. 

“You have to chase us now!” She yelled at you from her spot on the monkey bars. You hadn’t even been in this game of tag, but you took this as an invitation. Not wanting to disappoint her, you took off, running full tilt to the group of children. You picked the easiest target, Felix Ravinstill, and chased after him. You weaved in and around the play structure, dodging large beams and the occasional rogue ball. While Felix didn’t have speed on his side, he had fast reflexes and was quick at evading your every attempt at catching him.

Felix leapt onto the pavement, running straight through a game of foursquare. You dodged the wonky chalk barrier marking the borders of the pitch as the players yelled at Felix for ruining the game. Felix rounded a hard corner. You sped up, the collar of his shirt almost within reach.

“Get him!” Clemensia cheered. Your head snapped in her direction, she was beginning to climb down from the monkey bars. The momentary loss of focus resulted in your shoe colliding and hooking under a rock on the yard. You sprawl forward. You had just enough time to put your hands out and prevent your fall before you hit the pavement hard. You yelped out in pain, your knees and hands hot from the impact. You barely registered that you’re crying until Clemensia runs up to you, teacher in tow. A crowd had begun forming around you, and you found yourself crying thick, hot tears. The teacher helped you up, offering kind words of encouragement as students gathered asking if you’re okay. The tears that started didn’t seem to stop, and you sobbed a little harder looking at the state of your bloodied knees.

 And so the game of tag abruptly ended. Nobody on the schoolyard blamed you, of course, but you found yourself sitting out for the rest of recess. You sat cross-legged on the hot pavement holding a large wad of gauze to your bleeding knee and sniffling occasionally. You stared off at the play structure, watching the others go down the slides and run around. You don’t think anyone thought too much of it, but the embarrassment you still had over the situation hung thick around you.

A shadow above you blocked out the beating sun, and two little legs obscured your view of the play structure. You looked up, squinting a little.

“Hi,” said an unfamiliar voice. Your eyes focused on the shape in front of you. Sejanus Plinth, the new boy who just arrived from District 2 stood above you. He was well-fed, dark curls above his eyes and his chubby hands clutched a bag of colourful, sugary gumdrops.

“I saw you fall,” He stated. Great. Someone else who saw your tumble. You said nothing, did he come here to make fun of you?

“Want some?” He asks, shoving his bag of candy in your face. You were a little shocked at his blunt kindness. You had not spoken to Sejanus since his arrival at the Capitol a month ago. His arrival was instantly marked with hostility and distaste from other students. The others in your class rejected him entirely, opting to make him the object of their bullying, leaving Sejanus utterly friendless. You never participated in the bullying, but you never stopped it. You were simply indifferent, and maybe that made you complicit.

“Sure,” You sniffled, and wiped leftover tears from under your eyes. Sejanus moved to your left and sat beside you up against the grey concrete wall of the school. He ruffled through the bag, placing a bright blue gumdrop in your palm. You plopped it in your mouth, its sweetness enveloping your tongue. While your family wasn’t poor, the war had been rough on your family. Candy and sweets were only for birthdays and special occasions now.

“I’m Sejanus by the way,” The boy smiled, sticking out a chubby hand, waiting for you to shake it. You’d met enough of your mother’s coworkers to know what to do. You awkwardly reached out and shook his hand and returned the greeting. His hand was sticky.

“You ran really fast out there,” He said, reaching into the bag and grabbing a gumdrop for himself. 

“Thanks,” Your voice broke a little, tears still threatening to spill. Sejanus looked down at your hands, trailing his gaze to your knees, Bloody scrapes littered them, pieces of gravel still stuck to your left side. He reached forward and brushed it off for you.

“Do you wanna play hide and seek?” He asked, turning towards you.

“Can’t,” You sniffled. “M’knee hurts.”

Sejanus thought about this for a moment. A look of deep concentration washed over his soft, round features. 

“Want me to kiss it better?” He asked, his voice filled with innocence. 

“What?” You asked, a little shocked. “A kiss,” he repeated. “When I fall and get sad, my Ma kisses me better.”

Before you can say anything, he leans down, placing a feathery kiss to your knee, lips barely grazing your skin.

“There, now you’ll get better!” He smiled sweetly. It was contagious, a small grin crept up your lips in return. Sejanus rummaged in his pocket for a moment before he pulled out a packet of cards.

“Wanna play go fish?” He asked eagerly.

“I don’t know how to play,” You said quietly. Sejanus thought for a moment. “We can make a card tower if you want?” Now that, you could do.

“Sure!” You chirped. Sejanus’s joy was infectious. He spent the rest of the recess making you laugh, cheering every time you both successfully added another level to your tower. When the bell rang signaling the end of recess, you quickly knocked your 4-level tower down and helped Sejanus put the cards away. 

“Thanks for playing with me today!” You smiled, a new spring in your step, your injured knee long-forgotten about.

“Do you wanna play together tomorrow?” Sejanus asked, looking down at the ground. You knew he was used to people not wanting to play with him, let alone be near him.

“Of course!” You beamed at him and lined up behind Coriolanus Snow. Some of the other students shot you dirty looks, seething that you would associate with a District boy. You paid it no mind, however. You were just happy to have a brand new friend to play with.

It's funny how tripping on the school yard completely altered the course of your life. A familiar voice snapped you out of your thoughts. 

“If I have to write one more paper for Dr. Gaul, I think I’m going to drop out and join the Peacekeepers.” Sejanus sigh, tapping your shoulder from behind. You glance up and follow him with your eyes as he sits across from you in the dining hall. 

“Don’t,” you groan in mock annoyance. “Who else will I have to annoy and pester during class?” you say, knitting your eyebrows together in concern.

“I’ll talk to Coriolanus, I’m sure he can annoy you at least once a day,” Sejanus smirks, pulling his notebook from his satchel. You tut and roll your eyes. Sejanus rests his elbow on the white marble table, placing his head in his hands as he skims his notes. His dark curly hair falls over his forehead, largely obscuring his face. His cheeks look soft, lips pursed as he concentrates. His baby fat from childhood had now melted away and made room for a strong, muscular build that differed from the usual physique of Capitol boys. Sejanus definitely looked District, but maybe that’s why you found him so attractive now.

“Are we still going to the White Pony?” He asks, referencing one of the restaurants you both frequented. He never looked up from his notes. Good, he didn’t see you staring. Your eyes snap down towards your lap, making it look as though you are utterly engrossed with your red cloth napkin that you're playing with in your hands.

“Can’t today,” you sigh, leaning back in the hard dining hall chair. “Clemensia and I are meeting for coffee.” Your eyes drift around the cafeteria. The low light of the late afternoon cast shadows across the pristine white floors, bathing everything in a golden light. A few stragglers from the day remained in the cafeteria, chatting and reviewing notes, much like you and Sejanus were.

“That’s unfortunate,” he said, only glancing up at you momentarily. The single beam of orange light from the large arched window behind you illuminated his eyes perfectly. The caramel-coloured specks in his eyes lit up only for a moment.

“I was hoping I could show you some of the renovations they did.”

Now you feel guilty. You cursed yourself internally for making spur of the moment plans for a coffee date with Clemensia.

“I’m sorry Sej, tomorrow?” You ask, your voice softening. His eyes flick up to your face momentarily at the use of the nickname. Only you called him that. You reach your hand forward and stroke his wrist, covered by the crimson fabric of the Academy jacket you both wear. He lifts his head up, smiling at you, but visibly unhappy. You’ve known Sejanus for almost 10 years now, and you know when your best friend-turned-crush is upset.

“How can I make it up to you?” You loosen your grip on his wrist and trail your hand downwards to his fingertips, tapping yours against them gently as a comforting gesture.

“You can’t,” he groaned. “I will never forgive you for this,” He slumps forward, touching his head to your hand. His curly brown hair feels so soft tickling against your hand. “I see your loyalties lie elsewhere, I’m devastated,” he sighs, voice muffled and shaking as if he is on the verge of tears. You’d be tempted to believe it, if it were not for the fact that you can feel his lips smiling into your palm as he speaks. You choose to play along with his pretend outrage.

“Oh no! This really is terrible! I am so upset that Sejanus Plinth, my oldest and best friend, hates me!” You spoke almost too loudly. Two ginger-haired boys nearby shot you a glare, but you quickly disregarded it. “How ever will I regain his trust?” You ask, voice dripping in sarcasm and a smile creeping up your lips. Sejanus kept his head pressed in your hand, his shoulders shaking as he attempted to stifle his laughter. You continue.

“Maybe…” You hesitate for a moment. “Maybe I can bring in one of my chocolate muffins? Would he forgive me then?”

Sejanus’s head snaps up, beaming at you. “Deal.” He laughs. You giggle in return. Sejanus loves your baking, often saying it was almost as good as his Ma’s baking. That was high praise for you, always hoping you can outdo Ma Plinth but never fully succeeding.

You squeeze his hand gently before removing it. Your heart flutters at the loss of contact, wishing you could have that connection for even a moment longer.

“I have to get going,” you say, moving to get up, Sejanus stands too. You smooth out the wrinkles of your jacket and shirt. “Clemensia is going to kill me if I’m late again.”

“I don’t think you’ve been on time to anything in your whole life,” Sejanus smiles at you, teasing you. He picks up your bag as well as his own.

“You are so rude! I don’t know why I put up with you!” You gasp, laughing as you give him a playful shove, walking out the swinging white doors of the cafeteria and down the hall.

“Probably because you love me,” Sejanus laughs. You could tell it was supposed to be a joke but you feel your breath hitch in your throat. He knew? How did he know? Who told him? His words echo through the high ceilings of the hall and your mouth opens and closes like a fish. Sejanus sensed the shift in atmosphere and his laughter died out too. 

You muster a dry chuckle.

“Yeah,” you smile. “Something like that.” The tension in the air still hangs thick between you. Sejanus stares down at his shoes, shifting his weight between one foot and the other awkwardly. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Thanks for carrying my bag!” You chirp, trying to diffuse the tension. You reach and grab the brown satchel off his shoulder, pulling it close. Before he can speak, you glance at the watch on your wrist. 

“I really have to get going, I am officially dead to Clemensia,” you muster a nervous laugh. He chuckles half-heartedly in return. “Yeah. I should get home too,” he said softly. You turn and wave goodbye to him, before starting at a quick pace down the hall. Sejanus’s booming voice shouts out from behind you.

“Don’t forget the muffins!” He calls, cupping his hands over his mouth. The high intricate ceiling of the hall echoes his words.

“Muffins! Muffins! Muffins!”

You smile, not turning back to face him. “I won’t!” You yell back, before ducking into the stairwell. 

Exiting the school, you gasped in the crisp spring air. The embarrassment hit you a second time. 

“Idiot!” You curse yourself, slapping your temples as you march down the road.

…

“Oh my god, you didn’t,” Clemensia claps a hand over her mouth. “No, you’re messing with me, you didn’t,” She gasps in disbelief. You offer her a wonky smile as an answer. “Oh my god, you’re serious,” She sighs, running her hands through her raven hair, eyes wide. Clemensia had become a close friend of yours after that day on the playground - one of your only other friends aside from Sejanus. Coincidentally, she was the only person who knew of your huge crush on him.

“I’m so worried he’s going to hate me, Clemmie,” You sigh, waving your hand in dismissal, but accidentally almost knocking your rose tea over. You caught it before it fell, taking an awkward sip. “I don’t know why I froze up, I know he meant it in a friendly way.”

Clemensia picked up her latte, a look of concentration etched on her face. She pauses for a moment, the chatter in the warm cafe filling the silence.

“I don’t think you messed anything up,” she speaks slowly, lowering her cup. Her red lipstick is smudged against the dainty china. “But I do think you have to be careful. He probably won’t think too much about it, but if he reads too much into it, he’ll get suspicious.” She says pointedly. You groan and cover your eyes with your hands. For the last two years, you had successfully kept your crush on Sejanus under wraps. You already showed physical affection to one another through playful nudges, hugs and you would even occasionally hold hands. And it satisfied you for a while, content with the limited physical affection. But as time passed, Sejanus grew more into his features, and his demeanor only got sweeter, and suddenly affection between friends was insufficient. You found yourself lying awake at night dreaming about him, wondering what it would feel like to have his body pressed against yours, drifting off to sleep together. More than anything, you wanted to know if those soft pink lips felt as gentle on yours as you had imagined.

“Promise me you won’t tell a soul,” you peak up at her from your hands, glaring slightly. Clemensia laughs, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Her laughter was a sweet sound.

“I promise,” she said, kicking you gently under the table. "When have I ever told anyone? I might make you start paying me to keep a secret, though," She winks. You roll your eyes playfully. Clemensia looks to the side, gazing off at the art and floral arrangements in the elegant cafe. A devilish grin appeared across her face. “If things between you and Sejanus don’t work out, you could always try that guy over there instead,” she pointed to her right, her finger obscured by her latte cup. You know the drill, you crane your neck, pretending to stretch and follow Clemensia’s gaze and finger with your eyes. You snap back into place. “Clemensia, he’s old!” You whisper-yell at her. She snorts with laughter as the old man dressed in tweed in the corner she pointed to is none the wiser to the interaction.

…

“So I told Festus that if he so much as looks at me again, I’m going to report him to the Dean and have him sent to what’s left of District 13 myself,” Clemensia jokes as you walk around the Capitol park. She had insisted you go for an evening stroll through the park. The sun has set now, and the only light to be found in the park is that from the dim street lights. Crickets nestled in the bushes and dewy grass chirp their song into the evening. While the students’ overall opinion of you is not favourable at the Academy, you were thankful for having Clemensia by your side. It was nice having at least one friend who wasn’t complicated the same way Sejanus was.

“God, do you think Festus'll try anything again?” You giggle, cocking an eyebrow as you walk around the park together, gravel crunching under every step. “Doubt it,” she smirked. “Consider it handled.”

You round a corner, approaching some sleeping ducks, the moon shining bright over the pond, casting its reflection into the water. Further down the path, a tall figure stands, skipping stones into the water. They bounce one, two, three times before sinking with a loud plop. The dim street lamps provide no light where the figure stands, surrounding him in mystery.

“Who’s even out this late?” Clemensia said, judging the figure ahead of you. You turned to her, staring blankly into her eyes.

“Us, Clemmie. We’re also out this late.” You said flatly, Clemensia rolled her eyes. “Do you think maybe he’s a murderer, preying on unsuspecting people in the park?” She grabbed your shoulders, startling you. Your heart pounds a bit harder in your chest at her actions.

“If he is, I’m pushing you and running,” you tease her, smirking. She laughs loudly. You had been so engrossed in the conversation with her that you failed to notice the winding root of a willow tree poking out of the pathway. 

“Careful!” Clemensia yelled, trying to get your attention. It was too late, your foot had already hooked underneath the root and sent you flying forward. You lift your hands quickly to protect your face and you hit the gravel of the path below with a loud thud. You slide on impact, loose gravel flying everywhere.

“Are you okay?” Clemensia shrieks. If the figure was a murderer, he was definitely coming for you now. The sound of rapid footsteps comes pounding up to you. A familiar voice calls out your name in panic. Glancing up from your position on the floor, you saw Sejanus running up to you from a distance. So that’s who the dark figure was. You groan, partially from pain and partially from the situation you just got yourself into with him. You glance over at Clemensia as she tries grabbing your arm, attempting to help you up. You mouth the words “help me,” to her. She only stifles a laugh, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “You’ll be fine, you still have your humour.” You really don't want him to see you like this, especially not after such an embarrassing fall. You groan again as she tries lifting you a little higher. The pounding of Sejanus’s footsteps stops abruptly and you feel a second arm snake around your waist. 

“I’ve got you,” Sejanus whispers softly as he lifts you. His face pressed into the side of your head as he lifts you, breathing softly against your hair. He's stronger than Clemensia, helping you to your feet with ease. You stand, but your knee buckles under you. Sejanus catches you, firmly holding your waist in place with his arm. “C’mon, over there,” You hear him say to Clemensia, he cocks his head gesturing to the bench nearby. You hobble over to the bench, both of your friends holding you up. With every step, you feel a sharp sting in your knee, shooting up your body. You wonder how bad it looks. You hadn’t even had the chance to assess the damage before your friends rushed to your aid.

Clemensia helps you lower yourself onto the wooden park bench as Sejanus sits beside you. He gently lifts your leg and pulls it onto his lap as he sits to elevate it.

“Guys, it's really not that big of a deal,” you groan. You feel your face flush darker at all the extra attention.

“Let me just look,” Sejanus mumbles, pulling something out of his bag. “Can you even see in this light?” You ask incredulously, raising an eyebrow at him. “Mhmm,” he mumbles again. “This will sting.”

Before you even have time to process, a sharp burn hits your knee. Rubbing alcohol. You hiss through gritted teeth, throwing your head back. Sejanus has a look of absolute concentration on his face, his head lowered close to your knee. As you suspected, he couldn’t see well, but the idea of him trying to help you regardless makes your heart beat a little faster.

“I… I just remembered I have a paper for Professor Click due tomorrow.” Clemensia stutters, awkwardly taking a step back from you.

“What? No we don’t!” You exclaim, staring at her open-mouthed.

“Well, it's an extra credit paper!” Clemensia gazes down at her feet, starting off down the path.

“I want extra credit!” You call after her.

“No you don’t!” She yells back, you could barely see her wink in the dim light of the path, giving you a thumbs-up gesture. What a jerk. You'll be sure to give her a piece of your mind tomorrow. You roll your eyes and chuckle slightly as she takes off out of sight. Your focus falls back on Sejanus. You see that the red Academy pants you wear are ripped open, blood coating your knee. You gasp a little at the sight. Sejanus picks up on this, still tending to your knee.

“It looks worse than it is,” he said, attempting to reassure you. You sigh, tilting your head back. The budding tree above your head rustles, and the rushing water of the duck pond calms your nerves slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you start. “I didn’t mean to ruin your evening. I didn’t even know you’d be here.”

Sejanus chuckled softly. “You could never ruin anything. I’m just happy to see my best friend.” You swallow hard. ‘Friend.’ Yeah. Because you two are friends and little else.

“I’m happy to see you too,” you swallow. Sejanus dabs at the blood on your knee with his handkerchief, rummaging through his satchel some more. “It’s like we’re kids again,” you whisper quietly, tears pricking at your eyes.

“Hm?” Sejanus mumbles, concentrating on tending to you. “The playground, when we were eight,” you mumble. Sejanus laughs softly. “Yeah, it is actually.” Silence washes over you two again. He was so warm beside you, giving a little extra heat in the cool spring night. An owl hoots softly in the distance as Sejanus reaches into your pant leg to wrap gauze around your knee. You think back to the day you properly met him. How sweet and innocent he was, providing a childish love to you, who had never shown him the same courtesy until that moment on the pavement. The tears gather at your eyelashes, not yet spilling. He’s so attentive to you, face scrunched in concentration as he finishes dressing your knee.

“You forgot something,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. Sejanus lifted his head, giving you his full attention.

“What did I forget?” He asks, leaning his elbow against the back of the bench. You can just make out a sweet smile on his face in the moonlight. A single tear trails down your cheek, he looks perfect. Sejanus leans forward, wiping it away, rough hands caressing your face. You lean into his touch.

“You always kiss it better,” you say quietly. Sejanus lets out a low laugh. “Where does it hurt?” He asks, his voice matching your volume. You choke up and point to your knee. Sejanus chuckles, adjusting himself on the bench. He leans down, gently bending your leg at the knee and places a soft kiss to the fabric of the gauze enveloping your leg. You feel the slight pressure of his lips and sigh, content.

“Anywhere else?” He whispers playfully. You nod slightly, stretching out your lightly scraped hands and forearms.

“Here.” You say flatly. Sejanus sits up, shuffling closer to you on the bench. His arm wraps around your waist and pulls your body a little closer to him on the bench. He gently takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his pink lips. He kisses your fingertips gently, smooth lips touching the pads of your fingers. He presses one, two, three, four, five kisses to the tip of each finger, before repeating on the other hand. Your eyes flutter shut, and another tear rolls down your cheek. 

Sejanus brings the palm of your hands up to his mouth, his lips ghosting over them before pressing his mouth gently onto your palms over and over again. The contact stings slightly, but that melts away quickly, your body relaxing into his touch.

You barely register as he pulls the arms of your shirt and jacket up to reveal your slightly scraped forearms. He kisses your arms, starting at the wrists and gradually working his way up to the elbow. You feel your eyes glaze over and your breathing becomes shallow. He's perfect. His breath tickles your sensitive skin as his plush pink lips touch your skin. Sejanus lifts his head up.

“Anywhere else?” He asks under half-lidded eyes. His kind dark eyes flit down to your lips before back up at you. You swallow. It's now or never. Before you lose your nerve, you take a deep breath and lift your hand up. You gently tap your own bottom lip with your fingernail.

“Here.” You whisper, voice barely audible. Sejanus gasps softly. He doesn't hesitate, tilting his head slightly. He places one of his fingers under your chin and gently tips your head up towards him. His eyes scan yours for a moment, searching for a sign of hesitation. When he doesn't find it, he closes his eyes, as do you, and his soft lips grace yours momentarily before meeting for a full kiss. Your head spins immediately and your surroundings melt away. All you can focus on is him. You wrap your arms around his strong, broad shoulders, kissing him back. Sejanus’s grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you in, your chest presses against his and you can feel his heart hammering against his shirt. You tilt your head a little, deepening the kiss. His lips are sweet like sugar, parted mouth pressing gently against your bottom lip while you capture his upper lip with your teeth, pulling gently. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, you gasp a little and arch your back. Sejanus’s tongue slips inside your now-open mouth, his tongue immediately finding yours. You push back against his slightly, still allowing him control. He sighs into your mouth and the sound lights something up inside you. You kiss him deeper, tilting your head and alternating directions. Sejanus's hands rub your back, while you grab a fistful of his hair, pulling lightly. He groans, teeth clacking against yours. You don't register the pain, too consumed by Sejanus as he grips you tighter.

You break apart for air first, panting. He rests his forehead against yours, his soft dark hair gently rubbing against your skin. His gaze falls into your lap, where he now holds your hands in his.

"Wow," he breathes, wiping saliva from the corner of his mouth. You giggle, still gasping for air.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that,” he muttered, leaning in again and pressing another chaste kiss against your lips.

“How long?” You ask smiling, your heart pounding in your chest. Sejanus thinks for a moment. He jokingly places a finger against his chin and stares up at the moon in mock consideration.

“Hmm, probably since your 15th birthday party,” he smiles back at you. You gasp, grinning. “Your mother turned out the lights and you blew out your candles, and I remember how perfect you looked in the low light.” He continues. “And I have been hopelessly in love with you ever since.” He rubs his nose against yours.

You melt against Sejanus, throwing your arms around him and burying your face into his neck. “I think I’ve been in love with you for two whole years now,” you whisper against his neck, and he squeezes you even tighter.

“Really?” He whispers the question into your hair. You nod, your hair rubbing against his face. Pulling back, you smile at him.

“Your kisses are like magic, I feel better already,” You giggle. He laughs in return, leaning closer.

“You sure? Want another one just to be safe?” He asks softly, smirking as he already knew the answer. He leans in and captures your lips in his again. 

The air in the spring night is cool, but it's impossible for you to pay it any mind with Sejanus by your side. The wind whips around you as you kiss him hard. How grateful you are to have your best friend-turned-lover by your side. You make note to thank Clemensia next time you see her. This night is filled with soft glances and kisses, hushed ‘I love yous’ and the sweetest boy you ever met, sweeter than the gumdrops he gave you ten years prior.

[arlathavellan]

Phantom Pains | III

Fandom: ACOTAR

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Reader: she/her, (3/4-High Fae, 1/4-Tartera), Y/N used

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.7k

Something is... wrong. Time missing, memories missing, thoughts missing. Wondering where things both big and small disappeared to, like the dress you were working on or even the past seventeen hours of your day. Something is very wrong, and the thought seems to slip your mind as soon as it comes. || Azriel has been a part of your life for years now, and has been courting you since the fall of Hybern. Only, things don't seem to be as simple as you'd both assumed they'd be. It seems someone thought you were the weak link-- the easy ticket to infiltrating the inner circle through its spymaster. And maybe you are.

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All Azriel ever wanted was to keep you safe. From the moment he first saw you, he knew you were something precious, something to be protected. Convinced he knew best how, he kept you away from the inner court, away from the side of himself he was afraid you would turn from in fear. His hubris and shame kept you away from the people who could protect you while he was gone.

Cas and Mor had wanted to be introduced to you years ago, before things were even official between the two of you. Afraid it would only put a target on your back, he let himself pretend it was better for you to never cross paths with that part of his life.

After the war, he started to let his guard down. Mor would commission gowns from you, both supporting you and building a professional relationship as a compromise to respect Azriel's boundaries. When he eventually decided it was time to officially introduce you to everyone, he went to Feyre first, thinking it would be easiest for you to connect artist-to-artist rather than let one of the others completely overwhelm you. She was happy to agree, and excited at the prospect of helping ease you into their family. When she finally got her dress, it brought your little shop more attention than you'd had since coming to own it. The way your face lit up when you told him about having to hire someone to help you out helped reassure him that he'd made the right choice. He wanted nothing more than to introduce you to the rest of his loved ones, knowing they'd love you almost as much as he did.

It was obvious to them all how much you meant to Azriel.

It was obvious to everyone who knew who he was that you were the Spymaster's weakness.

That was his mistake; growing too comfortable with the bubble of peace that had existed undisturbed around the two of you. When he was with you, he let himself imagine he was someone else, someone with less blood on his hands.

He never should have forgotten, never should have let his guard down. It didn't matter how many times he'd been able to walk you home with no issue— every moment you were seen with him was a public admittance that you were important to him. Azriel could never be a normal illyrian, never act like it was possible to separate the parts of himself. Every waking moment he was the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster. His love for you didn't keep you safe, it only made you a target. Everything he did to put a smile on your face made it that much easier for others to hurt you.

——

Azriel is on his way back from his mission when Rhysand gets in contact with him.

Come home, he says. Now.

He tries to ask questions. Anxiety swirls in the pit of his stomach as he flies, any response met with a resounding silence.

The mission had been underwhelming, the intel he'd gotten no more than cold tracks leading straight to a dead end. Whispers of rebellion, more faeries foolish enough to act out against Rhysand moreso because of what he is than what he's done. There was nothing when he'd gotten there, just a long-abandoned camp that left no clues behind. His shadows couldn't find anything either, returning just to whisper confusion in his ear. While he was ready to call it and go home, he didn't feel right dropping the thread without seeing where it might really end. After a week of searching, he felt like he'd been run in circles, and told Rhysand he was coming back to Velaris empty-handed. It seemed to be a routine the past year, a lot of low-effort surveillance that seemed to result in nothing.

Not even a souvenir? He'd joked.

He wasn't joking now.

"What's going on?" He asks in response, scanning the room. The atmosphere of the house is low, and it has all of his senses on high alert. "Is everyone okay?"

Azriel lands on the balcony of the Town House. If it were official Court business, Rhysand would be in the House of Wind. But the Town House? This was family business. He opened the doors swiftly, some of his shadows immediately fanning out to sweep the residence.

"Az," Cassian calls, voice tight and shoulders tensed as he practically marches towards him.

Shadows curl at his neck, overloading him with information. He winces, unable to sift through it all at once. They're panicked, some moving around the room so fast they're knocking chairs into the table and toppling over vases. The noise draws another person into the room as Cassian steadies him by his shoulders.

Room, he can barely make out in their desperate jumble of cries. Your room, your room. Five in house. Three in room. High Lord, doctor, sw—

"Azriel!" Mor cries, ducking around Cassian's wings to help hold him straight as his shadows continue their barrage of information, nearly knocking him off his feet in their haste.

Five in house. Three in room.

"Mor, grab a chair before they knock him down—" High lord.

"We don't have time—" Doctor.

"—just get Rhys—" Sweetheart.

Silence falls over the room as his shadows still in a single breath. His wide eyes meet Cassian's, flicker over to Mor's distressed, tear-streaked face, and the pieces fall into place.

"Y/N?" he breathes, terror gripping his chest.

Hands reach for him once more, mouths opening in explanation, but as his knees buckle, the light is sucked out of the room in an instant, and he's gone.

——

"Now," you say, making a few final adjustments to the garment in front of you. "There's still some work to be done, mostly alterations, but it will absolutely be done in time for the party."

The woman behind you is absolutely giddy, facing away until you give the word.

"Before we get started on all that, I know you mentioned you wanted a draping that was loose and flowy, but I was worried the fabric might snag on your jewelry." You explain. "So It's still a loose drape, but a little less than what I first showed you when we were picking out fabrics."

She lets out an impressed 'ooo' as you explain. "That's so smart; I can't wear my chunky bracelets with half my dresses. My lady, I defer to your judgment."

Letting out a laugh, you fluff out the skirt in preparation for its presentation. "Okay! Now, three, two—"

"—one!" Mor cuts off, spinning around to see the dress. Her hands fly up to her mouth as she bounces on her feet. "Yes, yes! Oh, Y/N, it's even better than I imagined."

Pride wells up in your chest as she moves closer to see the gown, but a wave of confusion washes over you as you sway slightly on your feet. She… liked the dress? No. No, she didn't like the dress. This isn’t what happened. Your head spins as you watch Mor fuss over the skirt, playing with the fabric to have the gemstones on the inner layers catch on the light like stars.

You ran out of that fabric. There wasn't enough left for a full skirt, so you had to go without it. You stumble backwards towards the wall, but nothing catches you. Panic grips your throat as you float weightlessly, and everything is drowned in black.

It's okay, a voice whispers in your mind. You're alright. I need to see what memories they locked away so I can figure out what they were looking for.

Memories… that was a memory? But that didn't happen. You try to close your eyes tightly against the darkness, but you feel nothing. Light floods your vision, and suddenly you're sitting on your couch alone.

"Hello?" You call, voice shaking. "Who's there?"

"I suppose an explanation is in order, now that you're here." The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere at once, until an unfamiliar faerie steps out of the shadows with his hands raised.

You stand unsteadily as he moves closer.

"My name is Rhysand, though you can just call me Rhys," he says.

"While I wish the circumstances were better, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N."

"Rhysand…" you mutter, feeling feint. "Azriel's brother?"

A fond expression crosses his face. "Not typically the first title that comes to mind for people, but I must admit it's refreshing."

The couch behind you seems to beckon you once more, and he has no objections when you sit back down. "What's going on?"

"I thought this might be easier to digest." A chair you certainly don't own appears on the other side of the coffee table for him to take a seat. "We're in your head right now. I can't say I've ever tried something like this, but I quite like it. Although I believe your mind may be doing most of the heavy lifting, so we don't have much time."

Holding your hands out, your flip them over as you curl your fingers. Everything has a bit of a smoky quality to it, like it would all disappear with a gust of wind, and feels the same sluggish consistency as your shadows.

"What… happened?" Quiet as your voice is, he seems to hear you perfectly well.

His gaze is pained when you look back up at him, eyebrows pinched as he tries to explain. "From what I can tell, someone has gotten access to your mind, and had been taking and altering your memories. I don't know for what purpose, so I've been trying to see what they've hidden to try and figure it out. Do you know when this may have started?"

The answer comes to you immediately, the incident having weighed on your mind since it happened. "I lost a few hours a little over a month ago. Azriel found me standing in the street."

Something passes over his face, and the moment of silence that follows has dread building in your gut.

"Az spoke to me about that night," he says softly, almost slowly. It reminds you of that moment with Mor, before everything in your head exploded. He opens his mouth to speak once more, but his attention is snapped elsewhere. Looking to the side, his expression twists with confusion and anger. "Someone's trying to break through my wards. I'll be back soon; let your mind rest, and we'll continue once you've regained your strength."

"Wait—" you lurch forward, reaching for him, but you continue falling forward as everything you see dissipates.

Your existence feels lighter and lighter, until you feel nothing at all.

——

Azriel feels the wards fighting him, digging under his skin as his shadows slip through cracks that aren’t there. He’s never tried to travel within the house like this, never had need to, but with his shadows guiding him to you he had no complaints.

His room explodes with darkness as he finally lands on his feet, the sound of an older woman screaming in shock filling his ears before they all congregated around his bed. Looking around frantically, he took stock of the occupants of the room.

Madja stood by his dresser, hastily straightening bottles of medicines and salves that had been knocked askew by his arrival. By his bed, stepping back from the writhing mass of darkness, was Rhys, with a displeased expression.

“What happened?” he asks before the High Lord can speak.

Rhys sighs, rubbing between his brows as they pinch together. “Was that you, bursting through my wards?”

“Rhys,” Azriel hisses.

“You were right,” Rhys says, leveling him with a look that urged him to try and stay calm. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you then, Az. But we can fix it, now.”

The ground seems to fall out from beneath his feet. Stumbling forward, the Spymaster catches himself on the foot of his bed, shadows curling up his arms.

“She’s had multiple memories locked away, and when Mor caught on…”

Azriel looks up at him, wanting him to finish but not wanting to hear the words.

“It was a Daemati.”

The breath leaves his lungs, and the illyrian curls in on himself at the jolt of pain that shoots through his chest. A steady hand grasps his shoulder, grounding him.

“She’s alright, now. I’ve shut them out of her head so they can’t do any further damage, but…” he trails off, as if it might ease the blow.

Azriel understands the implication loud and clear. “But they’ve already caused damage.” He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, taking deep breaths as Rhys sighs. The only sounds in the room are his breaths, the rustling of his sheets, and the near-silent clacking of Madja’s equipment. “How bad is it?”

Rhys’ hand twists on his shoulder as he moves to sit beside him on the bed. “She may have some residual issues with memory loss in the future. I didn’t get very far, but they’ve locked numerous memories away, most pertaining to interactions with you or Mor.”

The silence that follows is somehow more tense than the last, and when Azriel finally straightens back up to look at Rhys, the expression that greets him is pained.

“When I asked her when she began to have issues relating to her memory… she claimed that you found her standing in the street a little over a month ago.”

A month ago. Had you really been suffering for so long unnoticed that you’d lost so much time? Everything he’d just chalked up to stress about the customer influx, and you were missing three months worth of memories. What had they even left for you?

He turns to look over his shoulder at you, his shadows parting just enough for him to see you sleeping peacefully in his bed.

“I’m keeping her unconscious for now,” Rhys tells him. “It will give her mind time to rest and heal itself, so I don’t do more harm than good.” His hand squeezes his shoulder, turning his attention back to him. “With the depth and frequency of attack… they have to be somewhere in the city, Az. Somewhere close to her.”

His fists clench tightly in his sheets, a low-bubbling rage festering in his gut. “Someone in Velaris did this?”

“We opened our gates to Hewn city,” Mor calls from the doorway. The two turn to look at her, a heavy weight settling upon the room at her words. “We should start with any frequent visitors, see who spends a lot of time in her part of the Palace of Thread and Jewels.”

“The intel we’ve been getting,” Azriel says, voice raspy. “Almost a year of nothing.”

Rhys answers with a dawning dread. “Someone wanted you out of the city. Away from her.”

He shares a look with Mor as Azriel stands from his bed and storms out of his room, half of his shadows rushing after him.

——

Cassian is downstairs to meet him at the door. “Don—“

“Move, Cas,” he snarls, stopping in front of him.

“Think, Az. If you go tearing through the streets of Velaris—“ an attempt to shoulder past him is stopped with a hard shove, “—they’ll be in the wind before you can find them.”

The two have their stand-off, Azriel’s siphons beginning to burn as Mor makes it back downstairs, Rhys close behind.

“You’re needed here, Az.” She’s met with a glare, hazel eyes dark. “Don’t give me that. You know we need to narrow our search down so they don’t see us coming.”

Rhys steps forward with a subtle tilt of his head. Azriel’s gaze snaps towards him, brow cocking as he waits for a third iteration of the same argument. “Y/N needs you here, with her.”

Silence falls between them, a battle of wills crackling the air around them. Darkness creeps up his legs, his torso, curling around his neck to voice their deliberation.

Sweetheart, they say. Alone, hurt, with us, safe, sweetheart, safe.

He closes his eyes with a heavy, weary sigh, shoulders dropping and siphons fading. A heavy hand lands on his shoulder from behind.

“We’ll find the son of a bitch who did this,” Cassian promises. “And then they’re all yours.”

He opens his eyes for a moment, searching for deep blue. Rhys’ gaze meets his, darkening as he nods his confirmation.

“You’d do the same for me, brother,” he says. In a moment unshared with the others, the rest goes unspoken.

If it were Feyre lying there. If it were my mate instead.

----------

Here I am falling into my old dialogue-heavy traps! I was going to queue this for tomorrow but I got too excited lmao

TAGLIST (comment or message to be added/removed)

@pellucid-constellations @horneybeach1 @hyemishii @brujitafantomatico @batlokiuniverse

[askchilchuck]

Hey, how can I help you?

(Please read below before interacting)

Hi! My name is Sophie! This blog has gotten enough traction that I feel the need to lay some ground rules for it.

1) This blog is intended to be PG13 so I don’t have to exclude younger fans from participating. I will not be answering anything that wouldn’t fly in canon, or is adjacent to it. Anything explicitly sexual, or can be construed that way will not be answered. This decision was made a couple months in, so do be advised there is some more suggestive content on the earlier posts on this blog. If you don't want to see that kind of content, stick to the newer posts.

2) Nothing related to suicide please. I tried playing it off the first time but between myself and some people around me, even the “KYS 🥰🥰🥰” jokes really aren’t funny, especially recently. Asks including it will not be answered.

3) No firearms. Related to rule 2.

4) Please no spammy asks. I’m honestly not sure how to answer them, and they clog up both the blog itself and the main tags.

5) No political asks. I understand how terrifying the results of the US election are, but I really need this place to be a break from all that. For my sake and yours. We both need spaces where we can recharge from this. Chilchuck doesn’t know what’s going on anyway, he deserves to live in ignorance from it. I love you.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to bully him, but these things cross a line for me. Thank you for understanding.

If you’re an RP blog, you’re more than welcome to interact! Even if you’re not a Dunmeshi blog! I don’t always have the time to do reblog chains, though, so please don’t feel bad if I miss you there. It’s easiest for me if you submit RP as an ask when the box is open. Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause. If you’re 18+ and interested, I also do private RP on my Discord, linked on my Dunmeshi side blog.

IN LIGHT OF DUPLICATE CHARACTERS:

I think that’s awesome and also really funny. I encourage it. We’ve already got a loose MCU/multiverse plot line going on so we can totally make it work, too. Hell yeah. Hilarious. Love that. /gen

Blog lore:

This blog takes place loosely post canon. I try to avoid spoilers, but little things here and there are inevitable. Chilchuck has made up with his wife and they’re currently working on their relationship. Chilchuck is also in therapy. This is for a few reasons.

1) I don’t think he’d actually answer any of these if he wasn’t.

2) He doesn’t talk about it a lot, but it was one of his wife’s conditions before giving the relationship another go.

3) He just. Should be in general and I have control of it so it’s happening lol

My Chil is bi, but in the middle-aged “everyone’s had gay thoughts before” kinda way, cause I think it’s funnier that way. He also gets high from time-to-time now that he’s not dungeneering anymore.

Folks kept turning him into different things/animals, so goldstar/⭐️ anon gave him an amulet to put a stop to that. "Marcus" also altered the spell on the amulet to encompass all transformations, since inanimate objects weren't initially included.

Squeaker also used a device to prevent any crab transformations specifically from occurring, as well as ejecting all crabs within a 20 mile radius.

There’s also a cult stalking him for some reason. (This is an ongoing problem. They haven't hurt anyone, and they seem to only be targeting Chilchuck.)

The TVA (Marvel) is loosely involved as well as previously mentioned. Squeak fixed it (or so she thought. There's now a DMCU situation going on.)

Also, Chil’s knowledge of the blog/Tumblr varies depending on what would be funnier, but generally he’s aware of the internet. He only uses his phone to answer your asks, though. He has no idea how to do anything else and has no desire to. This means he doesn’t fact check people or knows anything about the greater internet experience. No one knows how he got the phone, or how it’s holding a charge. Don’t worry about it.

ADDENDUM:

Chilchuck has recently started googling slang, and anything else that might be confusing or annoying to him. However, he hates the search feature and trying to find answers on individual websites, and will take the AI generated answers without question.

I myself don’t talk in the main posts, unless it’s tagged #ooc. Otherwise, I’ll always talk in the tags if I’ve got something to say. Or replies. Or DMs. Main post is the only place I’m in character unless specified otherwise.

Emoji anons:

•⭐️/goldstar anon

•🦉/owl anon

•👻/ghost anon

•♡/heart anon

•🐭/mouse anon

•🍬/candy anon

•🥣/bowl (cereal?) anon

•🐻🏀/bear basket ball anon

•🃏/joker anon

•🟣/Gojo Satoru

No other heart variants have been claimed. Also, heads up to all emoji anons, I’m going to start using just one tag for your asks going forward to make tagging easier! So I’ll just be using the emoji variant from here 💖

If you want to hang out with me in a less censored environment, I also run @chilfucked and @askchilchucknsfw which are 18+ only. I will ban all minors who so much as breathe on those blogs. I’m not joking.

I also reserve the right to update these rules as time goes on, so please check them again before submitting when the ask box is open again. Thank you!

[flowershines]

Special Treats

Bf. Peeta Mellark x F. Reader

warnings: smut, tabs (sex chocolate), protected sex, nicknames, cunnilingus

Not proof read

Coming home from work, opening the front door to your shared apartment with your boyfriend, he was sitting on the couch in front of the tv watching the new season of the Hunger Games. Ever since he had been in the games with Katniss he kept trying his hardest to stop watching them and have the others follow in his footsteps but he just felt bad for the contestants this year, you had told him that they put two 8 year olds in the games this year.

Ofcource he never wanted to see those kids die so he did as much as he could to make them stay alive by sending in donations for them to keep them alive, after winning he had more of a wealthy lifestyle having you both live in the wealthiest side of the capital.

“I’m home.” Dropping all of your belongings in the chair that had been surrounding the island in the middle of the kitchen, he stood up and made his way over to you kissing your temple then complaining about how messed up the producers are “I’m surprised that they made it this far anyways, I think my donations are helping them I hope.” He said while looking down at the ground, shameful for the kids. “They are, they’re still alive aren't they.” “I don’t think for very long though, one and two have been trying to find them since they would be the easiest targets, I left them some small notes saying that they need to find shelter and hide for now.” Running his fingers through his blonde hair as he sat down into one of the chairs next to you, walking to him and giving him a small hug as a way to try and comfort him.

You always loved how caring he was, even though those kids weren't his and weren't even in his old district he felt like he had known them their whole life, kind of like an older brother figure to strangers.

“Oh I forgot Haymich gave me these chocolates for you, he said there was a note on it for you but it fell off when he gave it to me, it's just chocolates so I thought the note wasn't that important anyways.” “Yeah, you're right it’s Haymich, he probably wrote some stupid shit on it.” Handing the chocolate he took it and unwrapped it, “Want some?” shaking your head you exclaimed how you just went out to eat with Katniss for lunch. Taking a bite he hummed at the taste of it, “Good?” he shook his head up and down very fast you thought that he might get whiplash. Laughing to yourself you walked towards your bags and started to put them into your shared bedroom and started putting things away, Peeta walked back over to the couch and sat down right in front of the tv as you heard another buzz sound notifying you that he had just sent another donation to one of the kids.

As time went on he watched the tv closely as the group of trained teens walked over to where one of the kids had been hidden since the games had started.

Peeta’s POV:

Watching the kid shiver from fear made something in me feel horrible for her, a single tear ran down her face as she probably knew that it was the end for her, as they would kill her in no time. I put my hand over my mouth trying to stay quiet as if I was in the games myself, seeing her shiver and cry reminded me of my time during the games, not wanting to see the poor innocent girl get brutally murdered I walked towards the door letting Y/n know that I was going to take a walk along with asking her if she could shut off the tv not wanting to watch it anymore. I knew those kids were probably going to be the first to die but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them, I mean who wouldn’t.

On the walk Y/n kept coming into my thoughts wondering what she probably thought of all the murder and what she thought of me being in the games as well, more questions about her wandered into my mind. I ran my hand through my hair and sighed deeply, I should probably start heading back to the apartment now heading back thoughts of Y/n couldn’t escape my mind, I probably just missed her so much today so I keep thinking of her.

Walking through the second to last hallway towards our apartment an image of Y/n popped in my head of her laying in our bed in my favorite pear of her lingerie, the red ones that never really covered much. I felt a rise of heat shoot through my stomach down to my sudden growing bulge which twitched at the thought, walking faster than before not wanting any of our neighbors to catch me with a growing hard on in my pants.

The more I would think of that image of her the more tighter my pants would go up against my dick making the sensation of the fabric rubbing against it even more hard to concentrate on any other random thought that might run through my head. Arriving at the apartment she was in our shared bedroom but instead of wearing the lingerie she was wearing the same clothes since the last time I saw her in.

She was on her knees putting things away in the bottom drawer of the dresser, I walked in front of her hoping she would see my aching problem and help out. She noticed that I was standing above her, she looked up at me with the most innocent eyes that stared into mine as she smiled softly. “When did you get back?” She said as he attention went back to what she was doing before, “Not that long ago.” I grabbed her by her jaw with one hand and made her look up at me, “I need you, now.” her eyes trailed from my eyes all the way down to my pants. My dick was right in front of her face making it perfect eye level with the tip as it leaked pre cum through my boxers and pants.

“All of the sudden?” She giggled still looking at my bulge then up at me, “Please Y/n, I was thinking then you came into my mind then an image popped up of you in my favorite lingerie on you.” I let go of her jaw and looked down at her with pleading eyes, “Your always horny.” She said standing up and walking towards the kitchen to get the last of her bags, I stood there defeated knowing that I would probably have to resort to my hand again. “Peeta?” She said from the kitchen, I walked into the room that she was in and stood in the doorway with an arched eyebrow and head tilted in the slightest way possible. She looked at me holding the box of the chocolate, “Do you not know what this is?!” “Chocolate.”

She rolled her eyes, “No shit, Tabs?” Looked her in the eyes and shook my head as a way to tell her I was not following, “It’s a chocolate made to turn you on, I should have read the box before giving it to you but I thought you knew.” She dropped the box on the island and rubbed her forehead, “So what am I supposed to do.” I rubbed my hand along the tip of my dick as she looked at it. She took one of the chocolates that showed three water droplets and ate it, “I’ll help you out, we just have to give it a minute for me to digest it.”

My eyes lit up with excitement, she walked over to the couch and placed a movie on and started watching it. I walked over to her and sat down next to her, I kept shifting and squirming in my seat as her attention was focused on the show in front of her. “Can I please eat you out?” I asked looking her up and down, she nodded and laid back against the arm of the couch using it as a pillow, I pulled her pants down which to my luck she wasn’t wearing any underwear giving me even more easy access. She whined at how slow I was going, I got closer to her heat and licked my lips as they hit her folds. I loved eating her out she always tasted so good and she would play with my hair all roughly making me moan into her pussy.

She would whine and breath all shaky which was my favorite noises that she makes, I couldn’t help but feel aroused as my tongue was deep into her. I uncontrollably got harder and started grinding down onto the couch for some sort of friction that my aching bulge was missing, as her moans and breathing became more sporadic she would grip onto my hair more tighter as my groans were muffled by her pussy, she loved the vibrations that it would give her and brought her over the edge making her cum on my tongue.

She sat up and pushed me down onto the couch and sat on top of my lap and started to unbuckle my belt I grabbed her shirt and started to unbutton it. The sound of my zipper being undone made me shift my hips up so that way she would be able to move my pants down to my knees. I finished buttoning her shirt and pulled it off each arm and brought one arm behind to her back and undid her bra. “Your a pro.” She said talking about being able to undo her bra with one hand, “You helped me become one.” I said smirking and dived into her neck and started to make my way down to her boobs, she moaned as my hands traveled from her waist down to her heat starting to do small circles on her clit.

She fell into my chest and started kissing my jawline then working down to my neck, she kept whispering sweet nothings into my ears. Pulling my hand away I reached towards the side table next to us and pulled out the drawer, taking out a condom and handing it to her and I shut the drawer and kissed her check. She ripped the packaging with her teeth off and took it out sliding it down on my dick, i softly groaned into her neck from the sudden sensation of her hand on me.

She grabbed my dick and placed it right at her entrance slowly sinking down on me as my hands rested on her waist, throwing my head back from the sudden sensation as I could feel her clench from every angle, her pussy ran along on the veins on my cock, she was made for me.

Grabbing at her waist tighter she started bouncing up and down on me, I kissed her on the lips as she continued bouncing on me. She grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me closer, our tongues danced on one another fighting for dominance. Her free hand ran up and down across my abs then bringing her hand down to my balls to play with them giving me the best pleasure.

Moans and groans filled the rooms our neighbors banged on the wall telling us that they can hear us, I placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her moans but she started to reach her peak and get closer and closer to her climax, realizing this I reached my hand down to her clit and started to rub it in circles while thrusting my hips up to meet her motions. Moans got louder and louder both of our climaxes at their peak, “P-peeta I-I’m gonna-” “Me two, princess.”

With that she started to fall apart on my dick as my cum shot into the condom filling it up, she slowed down her pace till she stopped moving and just cuddled against my chest. She went and grabbed my dick pulling it out of her making me whine from her hand touching my overstimulated cock, then proceeding to take the condom off and bring it to the kitchen and throw it away. She went into the bedroom not soon after came back in her comfy pjs sand had brought me out some as well, she handed them to me and picked up our clothes that had been thrown off earlier.

She walked back over to the couch and cuddled into my side I kissed her temple and said “Thank you princess, I love you.” “I love you too baby”

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening: Reimagined pt. 1🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Elvis is fighting his need for blood, making him weaker by the day. Then you walk into his life, making you the perfect target for his next meal. But an unknown force is making this more difficult than he expected... [Elvis' Perspective]

TW: Cussing, heavy mentions of blood

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Hello everyone! Happy October 1st! As much as I dislike fall, I LOVE spooky season. 🤭We're kicking off the month with Vampire Elvis in a new reimagined story. I'm very excited to be writing this and has been on my mind for quite some time! I love how the story turned out but this was another path I played with for a while. It's a different view and there will be interesting twists coming soon! Please enjoy!

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! Hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

February, 1973 🩸

His eyes burned with pain and his throat felt on fire from thirst. He hadn’t fed in a few days of being back in Las Vegas and he was really feeling the ramifications of it. He knew he needed to take better care of himself. It was doing him no good starving himself for long periods of time. It just made him thirstier and more of a risk to be around any humans. 

His lack of control posed many threats to the people around him and his career. Singing in front of thousands of people every night, all of them smelling more tempting than the last, made him easily distracted. He loved performing, that’s what he was made to do, but if all he can think of was blood, he couldn’t perform the way he should. 

This place was a never ending distraction for Elvis and he secretly liked it. He liked he could feed as much as he wanted and not get obscure attention for it. People loved him, he was thankful for that, but here people came for miles to see him and wanted to get as close as possible to him. He hadn’t been performing in the 60s and his fans missed him. He welcomed it and it just gave him an easier way to feed. 

Everyone wanted to be invited to an Elvis party. That was the best thing anyone could hope for. For Elvis, it was his favorite time to feed. He’d sit in his normal chair that would be in the corner of the suite and like clockwork, people would come by one by one hoping to meet Elvis. The suite would normally be so packed that no one would see him take a bite from anyone. His men would normally block off most of the crowd so no one would see what he was doing in the corner. They controlled the people who wanted to see him and not let any wandering eyes see him feed.

Compelling them was the easiest way to get someone close to him but the girls, oh the girls wanted to be as close to him as possible without needing to be compelled. It was less work for him which he liked. They wanted his attention desperately and he could sense how they were wanting him sexually. He was too hungry to focus on something like that usually. Every once in a while he would please them but not before feeding from them first. 

He got word that a new housekeeper would start tomorrow and he grew anxious. He had the same housekeeper the last four years and she was never an issue. She kept to herself, didn’t ask too many questions, and sometimes, he’d feed off of her. Right at three, she’d normally come up, clean for a bit before he compelled her to come to him and let him feed. It was the perfect routine. She was never scared of him forgot all about it by the end of her shift. 

Now he’d have to start all over again with you. He’d have to earn your trust a bit so he can get close to you with out scaring you off. But he was quite apprehensive about that. His control was limited and having to meet a new person that would be around for hours on end was going to be tough. 

*

It was a minute before three and Elvis paced his bedroom nervously. He couldn’t do this. He was so starved and wasn’t sure if he could stop himself from feeding on a human. He tried to drink some blood from a blood bag but it was no use. It tasted like water compared to something fresh. He tried to calm himself down, he couldn’t freak you out the second you walked into the room. 

The sound of your nervous heartbeat made his eyes flash open. Just the sound of your heart has him drooling. You were apprehensive too and he liked that you were feeling the same way. It meant he could savor the sound of your heart as you stood before him and he wouldn’t have to do any extra work. He puts on his jacket and takes a look at himself in the mirror. He ran his hand through his hair and straightened out his tucked in shirt. His eyes were always the most telling thing when he was hungry. They haven’t been that illustrious blue he was born with. Lately they’re dark pools of a tumultuous sea. They were almost leaning black in dark lighting which made it more obvious he was not human. He picks up his gold sunglasses off the side table and puts them on. He had been making this a habit the last few years and thankfully no one questioned his fashion choice.

He hears the front door open and the sound of your heart beating loudly and uncontrollably. It enticed him and he needs to take a few deep breaths before walking out there to see you. He finally finds the strength to calmly leave the bedroom and greet you. The door opens and your scent hits him like a train, he has to hold his breath so his fangs won’t descend. Oh God this wasn’t good. He didn’t expect to be so taken back by your scent. He snaps himself out of his thirst driven thoughts and straightens his posture before speaking. You had your back turn to him, taking in the whole suite and what a disaster it is after last night’s party.

“About time you showed up,” he says gruffly.

You turn around quickly and he feels his heart shudder in his chest. You were beautiful. You were probably the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. You weren’t plain like most humans, no, you were exceptionally beautiful. You had that immortal perfection that only came with being turned. He listens to your heart beat again, checking if you are indeed human. It dances away as you look at him and witness him for the first time.

“I’m very sorry to keep you waiting Mr. Presley. My name is y/n, I’m your new housekeeper.” You say timidly, placing out your hand in front of you to shake his.

He can’t touch you, he doesn’t trust himself to feel your warm skin on his before pulling you in and sinking his teeth into you. He just stares at your hand reached out and doesn’t move an inch. You get nervous and quickly put it down.

“Umm, where would you like me to start cleaning?” You ask, your voice upbeat and trying to hide the fact of feeling like this is rejection in some form. 

“Where do you think,” he snaps coldly. He winces at himself for being so abrasive toward you but it was the only way for him to keep a hold on his raging thirst. It was extremely difficult to be this close to you. He had never had such an issue with a human before. Sure, the smell of their blood made him hungry but this was much worse. You smelled sweet like honey and he was dying to know what you tasted like, slowly running through his veins when he fed.

“Okay, no problem. Do you mind if I open the drapes so I can see what I’m cleaning?” You ask with a smile. 

“I don’t care, just get it done,” he says coldly. He walks away from you and he tries to slow his breathing. Each breath in was excruciating for him. The entirety of your presence was making him feel intoxicated and ravenous.  He sits down in his usual chair and watches you open the heavy curtains. The sunshine fills the room and makes him wince a bit. He was used to the way the sun felt on his skin but it still wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world. It shone on his entire body and singed his chest and face. At least it made him a bit distracted for now and didn’t have him obsessing about your scent.

He watches you look at him with a desperation. You couldn’t help but love the sight before you. He grimly smirks to himself, he knew his looks drew people in and there was nothing he wanted more than to pull you in closer. He wanted you here on his lap with his teeth sunk into your warm neck. He bites his lip, trying to not think about that scenario too long or his fangs would show. 

But it was no use, you were so tempting to him. He must be so starved that he can’t even think straight. He’s hardly breathing as each breath he takes makes it more excruciating than the last. His mouth watered at just the sight of you. Elvis followed you to every room you cleaned partly because he didn’t want to be away from your thunderous heart but also he was trying to map out where he should bite you.

There were too many options for him to choose from. He can just turn you around and bite you as you were sure to scream. No, that wouldn’t be as enjoyable. He knew he had to compel you to get closer to him. He needed to gain that trust and quickly. You were nervous as you noticed him following your every step. He would stay abnormally close behind you which only made you feel more on edge. 

Going back out to the living room, he can feel his mouth water and his heart hammer away at the thought of feasting on you. He needed to hurry up and decide how and where he was going to bite you. Something about holding you in his arms seemed pleasing and the ideal way to feed on you. He wanted to feel your heart beat close to his. Maybe he can take you into the bedroom, tease you for a bit to get your heart racing even more. No he didn’t have the patience for that tonight. He needed you now. No charades or stalling. He needed to compel you now, get you on his lap and feed until his heart was content.

You were still too antsy and wouldn’t stay still. He has to this quickly and efficiently.

“There’s a bottle underneath the piano,” he grumbles.

You quickly make it to the piano and set the bench aside, kneeling down on your knees to crawl underneath.

Now, its time to feed off of her or you might just die, he thinks to himself.

He watches you scan for the bottle but there isn’t one. He sits on the piano bench and waits for you to crawl back out. His chest heaves in anticipation and feels his mind haze over in a feeding frenzy. He feels his eyes start to shift and the black veins start to crack across his face. He winces as he tries to hold back this monster inside of him who craves blood so much but its no use. He opens his eyes and can feel the burning red heat of them. His canine teeth sharpen into long fangs, both top and bottom and he starts to tremble.

You stand back up and he grabs your hand. You gasp when you see his face.

“Sit down honey, don’t panic,” he compels you. Your eyes blow open, scared out of your mind.

“Oh my God!…W-what the hell,” you quiver, your heart galloping uncontrollably.

Elvis is a bit baffled you didn’t listen to his command. Maybe he was so starved he couldn’t compel anyone that easily. It couldn’t be though, he had found himself in a lot of situations where he was starved but always was able to compel and feed off of someone with ease. He won’t give up this easily, he needed to feed.

“I said sit down honey, I need you close,” he says smoothly, trying to compel you again. You shake and nod your head at him, carefully taking a seat next to him. 

“Don’t hurt me please,” you beg.

How is she fighting me? How is this possible?

His patience was running dry. The drunken haze of your blood being so close to him has him not thinking clearly any more. He needed to bite you.

“You won’t remember this I promise,” he says gruffly.

He pulls you close, wrapping his hand gently around your neck and bares it to him. You cry out for help, scared out of your mind. He growls contently as he lets his hunger take over. He sinks his teeth into your neck and his eyes roll back when he tastes you. God he had never tasted something to delectable and savory. Each drink he took was better than the last. He gulps your blood greedily and pulls you onto his lap. He needed you closer. He wanted to feel your heart beat against his. You whimper because of this and pull at the lapel of his jacket. You liked being this close to him even though his bite was excruciating and he keeps drinking. You gasp for breath as pain rocketed through your entire body.

Elvis didn’t want to stop feeding, you were too delicious and he had never felt so fulfilled. He makes soft, pleased groans as his hands slither down your back and tries to comfort you through the pain. He liked how you felt in his arms, it was a new experience for Elvis. He could sense how much you liked his touch through this all even though his bite made you uncomfortable. His mind starts to wander and think if he should make love to you. He didn’t like causing you pain and wanted you to feel something good after all of this.

He squeezes his eyes shut, dismissing such an idea. He needed to focus on getting his strength up. It was working though, he felt his strength rise and felt so much more alive. He needed to stop feeding soon or else his venom would enter your body, changing you into a vampire. Your body began to feel weak in his arms, whimpering for him to stop biting you. You gasp for breath as he takes the last few mouthfuls of your blood. Everything inside of him told him to keep biting you but he fought those instincts as hard as he could. 

He carefully takes his fangs out of you and gasps for breath. He felt like he was in a euphoric haze, so completely drunk on you. You lift your head back to look at his terrifying eyes. You were frightened beyond belief and shoved at his chest to get away from him. You fall back and hit the ground, scooting away from him as quickly as you can.

“What are you?! Oh my god what did you do to me?!” You scream at him, bringing your hand to the open wound on your neck. Tears started to fall down your cheeks as you panic over what he did to you. Your blood still flowed out of your neck and made Elvis still feel ravenous by the sight.

Elvis stares astonished at you. How were you still not compelled? It couldn’t be possible! He grew frustrated and needed to get you out of here and forget all about this afternoon. He gets up and wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist. He felt as strong as he has ever been. It was a huge change and he liked how he felt.

“I didn’t bite you, you’re not going to remember the pain or any of this, go home now,” he compels. He felt incredibly strong and was sure you’d obey this time.

You stare at him stunned and don’t move.

“What! No! What did you do to me?” You scream.

Panic begins to set in and he goes to you and picks you up off the floor. He looks into your eyes, anger starting to take over him. Why weren’t you listening? He could make anyone obey him without even trying normally.

“What is wrong with you? Why won’t you listen? Why won’t you forget,” he growls. You shriek in fear looking into his soulless red eyes and his sharp fangs close to your face again.

“What’s wrong with me?! What the hell is wrong with you?! You’re a-, you’re a vampire!” You scream at the top of your lungs and twist out of his grasp.

You quickly run to the door, needing to get out of here as quickly as possible and get help.

“Help! Help me!’ You scream.

In a blink of an eye, Elvis runs to the front door blocking your way. You scream again completely shocked, not expecting him to be so quick. His brain scrambles what to do about you. It’s the biggest rule of being a vampire; don’t let your existence be known to humans. It should be pretty simple. He never fed out in public and always did it secluded to ensure his privacy. But for whatever reason, you could not be compelled. He was at his peak strength at nothing was working on you.

“Let me go!” You yell at him.

He shakes his head at you, “I-I can’t. I can’t let you leave,” he says nervously.

“What are you going to do to me?” You ask anxiously.

“That’s something I need to figure out,” he says darkly.

*

*

Tagging:

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy_

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rimartin11@that-hotdog.

@louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs @sloppiest-of-jos

[fumifooms]

Marchil crumbs part 6

Part 1 - Part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 7

Wake up broskis Adventurer’s Bible 2 is dropping soon

Love getting the confirmation that she specifically was the one to invite him and his fam to the dinner in the "Thank you for reading!" page… Love that it kinda confirms that her and Senshi greeting them first is them being like "Uh thanks for the invite" "Thanks for coming!!". Love that canon is the best marchil factory

Laios haterism is a deep bond not easily forgotten… I love that even post-canon they tend to stick to each other in groups and go in a corner together like old women ready to gossip and whisper meanly.

Also oh hey Marcille got her bangs cut even… Sad, that’s invalidating my post-canon appearance take for her but y’know what cute, she doesn’t style them at all anymore too… WAIT. She doesn’t style her hair anymore… She leaves it undone and flowing… As per his succubi she’s closer to his ideal omggggg no way… At the beginning of the comic she even just wears a headband. She seems to just wear way simpler hairstyles in general in the other comics too.

Oh and by the way her braids in post-canon are messy… Which, y’all know I hc who does her hair for her always changes and isn’t always the same, but the braid looks like the one Chilchuck made for her, so <;3 Here are some more pics about it/why it’s plausible

He’s such a hater, Falin came late too why’s he singling her out

Speaking of Falin, Marcille so casually touching Chil to chide him about a snide remark he made about Falin (aka the person she would go to war for, and he only gets a gentle chiding? Aw)

Already during the dragon arc there’s some progress from this

I love how the two pics below during the Thistle’s house arc show how they breached the gap in their different, their respective prejudice against the other. So funny that the time Marcille goes "yeah elves kinda suck" is at the worst possible timing lmao, meanwhile Chil is ready to vehemently defend magic use against someone (bc he doesn’t want to go to prison rip). With the page before that panel where he imagines the western elves all evil and all too, it’s really nice to note how big the gap between them was at first with the historical horrors the elves have committed, and what a strong bond they’ve made through it all anyways.

Ok time to address what I hinted at last part and in another post but I think the anime frames this scene a lil different which I think is funny. In the manga Chilchuck walks to her bedside to call out to her to wake her up close, but in the anime he sort of just speaks in her direction. So Marcille heard "Hey, clumsy-head.” and knew it was targeted at her, she went like oh someone is calling me I need to wake up lmfaoo? Listen that’s good for the ship, she woke up because it was his voice and insults like "clumsy" and "dummy" are practically his pet names for her, and it’s also neat how she was the one he chose to call out to in the first place- Why? If it’s bed placement, Laios was on his other side, is it because some need rest more than others? Or perhaps, because he finds interacting with her to be the easiest and he knows she won’t make a big deal out of it?

Speaking of making a big deal out of things. Ok so first of all, during the cockatrice chapter, he’s funny. Staring at his petrified party member like 😬 And look at his little relieved sigh when she gets revived! Standing in the corner and doesn’t care for celebrating, but he cares nonetheless.

And then look… He worked hard to get Marcille un-petrified again too, gathering medicinal herbs even with the risks! And in the end, he wants to take credit for what revived her hehe.

For once she’s the one who gets to tease him lol.

I want to know how the group whispering strategizing went. Chil for sure was part of the "If we tell her she’ll look cute she’ll take the bait" convo. Funny that in the end he doesn’t even praise her, I think he’s the one talking about her frog-like silhouette… Edit: EPSODE 10 IS OUT GUESS WHAAT Laios is the one saying the frog silhouette is fun (should have seen it coming) Chilchuck is the one saying "that looks great on you"/"very cute" depending on the translation, the line delivery in the eng dub at least sounds shaky, sounds like hesitance.

You know I never put this in a marchil comp/post even tho it’s a page with a lot to say, and I only realized recently why it made me so uneasy/conflicted. Because by all means "Our magician successfully stood against the mad magician" is flattering, but Chilchuck’s point in this page is that he’s worried about how her life is gonna go, which ties into his worry for others about the law, their jobs, the way Puckpatti is carefree, etc. In this chapter he suppresses his worry and care with anger, but the point still remains that he’s worried for her and her professional future and thus like, her general life direction and all. Sigh anyways more analysis coming on this topic at some point

Looking out for her:

Keeping each other in check. Always gets to me how much she listens to him when the topic’s serious

Love how this is how the party naturally divides. Sigh Chil, Marcille & Izu are so family shaped…

Ep 7 is out and was fun! Not many marchil moments though. This one was notable though lol, never caught it while reading. Truly they are comrades in fear, hide behind each other when something unpleasant is happening. They would risk their life for each other but also they would throw each other under a bus and use as a meat shield if necessary /hj

Anime director doodle! Them against the world…

Get yourself a man who looks at you like this after you did dark magic and caught him shit-talking.

See you soon! With the anime and the new adventurer’s bible I have no doubt that I’ll find more to share with them shipping goggled eyes o’ mine in no time, And if you follow these as they come up, go back to look at the end of the last part in case you missed the crumbs I edited in up until it was completed!

30 pics have been reached in this part… See u later gators

Part 7 here

[argentrenard]

Victor Gilbert (French, 1847-1935)

FFXIV Write 2024

Prompt #1: Steer

All he had to do was convince this woman to follow a certain path. The trouble was, she was proving stubborn.

Lady Bristole of House… come to think of it, her house was so minor it was nearly inconsequential… was sitting across from him in the smoking lounge of the Sparkling Sapphire, a well-to-do spot right off the Jewel Crozier district. He'd spent nearly the entire evening working to coerce her to part with a small chocobo ranch her family held that was slowly failing. All she needed to do was sell it to his contact, a man who had expressed a certain interest in the property, and that contact would owe Argent a favor. This favor would then allow him to get his foot in the door on his way to purloin a very priceless work of art from a noble house in Gridania.

Unfortunately, however, Argent Renard had never encountered a situation where his charming and attractive qualities would be a hindrance. Thus, instead of successfully steering the conversation to talks of how burdensome ranches could be, or what a gil-sink they were to her already dwindling estate reserves, all the old dowager was able to do was focus on how much she wanted to take him home.

He was dressed in somewhat shabby noble attire, as it was all he could procure on the short notice he had received that his target was here, and alone. She'd immediately latched onto his arm regardless and steered him to this little nook, and now that they sat across from each other on plush leather cushions, she kept complimenting his eyes. He'd asked her what businesses she owned, and she'd talked about getting down to some funny business in her boudoir. He'd asked her about chocobo raising and she mentioned she'd like to raise something of his.

She was infuriating. Did she think of nothing else? He grumbled inwardly.

Anyone who knew Argent would laugh at this line of thought.

"Now now, my dearest madame, how about-"

"Please, Handsome Sir, call me Penelope," she purred, fanning herself across from him, "And sit closer, I won't bite, unless you ASK me to," she chortled a laugh that made his eye twitch.

"Penelope, then," Argent said through clenched teeth, his instinct to act charming fighting against his fury at failure thus far. This was supposed to have been the easiest part of the plan. "…I wonder, what brings you to-"

"Oh sir, you have the most lovely voice," she cut in yet again, leaning towards him, "What I wouldn't do to hear it whispering in my ear tomorrow morning…"

Argent flashed her a grin, though his teeth were nearly grinding themselves to dust at the same time.

"Would that I did not have business that took me away tonight, Madame, otherwise I'd most assuredly take you up on that offer… but I was wondering…"

"Pink," she said, winking at him.

This caused even Argent to stop short as he stared blankly at her for a moment. "Pardon?" he managed eventually.

"They are pink, young man. My small clothes. What I'm sure you were wondering about."

Argent rubbed the bridge of his nose. No painting was worth this, surely. In truth, he wouldn't actually mind showing this old woman the best time of her entire life. The problem was he really did need her to agree to this now, as his window of opportunity closed tonight. For a moment, he closed his eyes and sighed. This sigh made her… choke? Was she choking on something? He glanced at her, mildly concerned (because he did still need something from her) if he needed to find a chirurgien… until he realized with dawning horror that she was trying to make… coquettish and flirtatious sounds at him. It sounded like she strangling a puppy. Her hand batted in his direction like a cat. A cat with no teeth who was blind in one eye, perhaps.

Then suddenly, in a flash, he saw the way to go.

"My lady," he said, lowering his voice in a hurry and moving closer to her, "I have a confession to make…"

"I knew it!" she practically squealed, accidentally spitting on him. He wiped it away hurriedly and moved on.

"I want you, I desire you, I need you! I knew it the moment I saw you…"

"Yes… yes… YES!?" she took his hands, breathlessly… probably due to her asthma.

"Will you leave with me to some secluded spot? I've… well, always had this fantasy of making love in a chocobo stables. On some secluded ranch, do you have one?"

She blinked once, and then said, "YES! I do! It's this old thing I was thinking of selling, but now…"

Suddenly he leaped at the chance, "Sell it, but you can't! You mustn't! Please, let me know where it is, then… meet me there, tonight! We will discover each other and cry out each others' names to the heavens!"

"Oh, oh my SIR!" she swooned, almost falling over due to her balance being perhaps a bit unsure.

And with that, he kissed the crinkled and papery thin skin on the back of her hand and stood. He bowed, leaving her swaying in her seat, her fan threatening to blow her wig off.

Argent Renard adjusted his cuffs as he hurried away. When he didn't show for their meeting tonight, surely she would be so fed up with the place and that memory of being stood up she'd want to sell it. He'd have to bank on that working, at least. He didn't have the time to work his skills at any other option. He headed for the airship landing as quickly as he could. He had to get to Gridania before the sun rose tomorrow.

As he left her, Lady Bristole's fan kept at it for about a minute. Then, it finally slowed as she muttered aloud, "What a fine young man. A shame I couldn't steer him back to my estate to marvel at my new painting… everyone says it's so beautiful, I would have liked to share that with him as well…"

And with that, Argent left behind the new owner of the exact work he was currently scheming to acquire. While it was true she would be disappointed this evening, he would be doubly so come dawn the next day.

[accio-sriracha]

WOLFSTAR + MISTLETOE BECAUSE ITS CHRISTMAS

~~~♤~~~

Sirius loved Christmas more than any other holiday.

And no, not just because he got to wear his leather jacket; he did that in the summer too.

And not because of the dragon-nog or the potion pies.

Not the pumpkin truffles or the roast turkey.

He didn't love Christmas for the break from classes and homework, though that was definitely a bonus.

Not the lights, not the music, not the festive holiday cheer.

He loved it for something else entirely.

Sirius Black loved Christmas for the mistletoe.

Now, you can say what you want about the enchanted tradition, Sirius didn't care what anyone else thought.

Evey year the castle was filled with hidden mistletoe, waiting for their targets.

And every year students would groan as they were trapped underneath with their best friend or a passing stranger.

Sirius was obsessed with the tradition, he thought it was a hilarious way to bring people together, a reason to connect with people and laugh and share awkward solidarity.

He would purposefully trap his friends underneath it with him and tease them about it for days afterwards.

James was respectful, careful to learn the layout to avoid making anyone uncomfortable.

Peter was terrified, jumping if anybody would walk too close.

And Remus... well he was Remus.

Nobody really knew how he felt about the mistletoe; he never showed anything further than indifference.

Somehow nobody had ever gotten trapped with him.

Remus had gone his entire life without being stuck under one, and seemed to be confident it would continue this way.

That is, until this year, on Christmas morning.

Sirius stood in the common room, pacing the floor as he waited for his friends to get out of bed.

He was up ridiculously early and he knew that, but it was Christmas, where was their cheer?

So when James and Peter finally trudged down the steps he jumped up from the couch and ran to hug them,

"Merry Christmas guys!!" He shouted, laughing as they winced at his volume.

"Merry Christmas, Pads." Peter grumbled, patting his shoulder and pulling away to plop down on the couch.

James broke off too, muttering incoherently before joining Peter in collapsing onto his favorite armchair.

"Where's Moony?" Sirius asked.

"Bathroom. Should be down in a second." Peter yawned.

Sirius huffed and jogged halfway up the steps, "Moons! Hurry up!"

"Merlin's beard, Pads, give us a second, would you?" Remus' answering call came from the far end of the hall.

"Never. It's Christmas, your choices are be excited or die."

"Is death really on the table?" Remus smiled, walking into view.

He was wearing his biggest jumper, the sleeves pooling over his hands, another reason Christmas would always be Sirius' favorite.

Sirius tried not to let his thoughts show on his face, but he was never very good at hiding his expressions.

"What's wrong?" Remus asked immediatley.

"Nothing. You look good, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." Remus had just started to walk down the steps when something made them both freeze.

"Oh shit." Sirius gasped.

James turned lazily in his seat, than gave a loud, short laugh and called over Peter.

"Did you guys just-" Peter's eyes were wide.

They had all learned to avoid the one on the stairway to the boy's dorms quick, Sirius had never once been accidentally trapped by it.

But then again, he'd been pretty distracted..

"How?" Sirius looked up at Remus in shock, "I thought these didn't work on you?"

"Guess there's no such thing as invincible." Remus shrugged, that indifferent attitude still fixed in place.

Sirius cleared his throat and looked away, every time he'd been stuck with James or Peter he kissed them way too over the top as a joke to make them uncomfortable or panic, but he couldn't bring himself to even look at Remus.

"Well go on then, Padfoot. Moony's been missing out on this for years." Peter urged, mostly for revenge, Peter was always the easiest target.

"I, uh-" Sirius cleared his throat.

This wall was interesting enough, wasn't it? He didn't see a reason to look away.

"Are you okay?" Remus asked again, quietly this time so only Sirius could hear him. He looked concerned.

But the expression made his lips pull down in a frown, which drew Sirius' eyes to his lips, which made his heart take the liberty to stop working properly.

And here they were, Remus staring at Sirius, Sirius staring at the stone, neither of them knowing what to do next.

It was easy for Sirius to be nonchalant about placing mistletoe everywhere, he didn't care about kissing James or Peter, it was usually hilarious to see their faces afterwards.

After seven years of never needing to be trapped with Remus, he had forgotten it was even a possibility.

And the truth was... he did care about kissing Remus.

"I'm fine." Sirius finally answered, he had no idea how long it had been since he was asked.

"You sure?" Remus pressed.

Sirius just nodded. He turned when he felt a hand on his arm.

"If we don't do this soon we're going to block the hallway." Remus explained gently, his eyes searching Sirius'.

"Right." Sirius let out another slow breath, "Okay."

"Okay." Remus repeated.

Neither of them moved.

"What's happening?" James asked Peter, not wanting to stand up from his seat to get a better look, "Why is it taking so long?"

Peter shrugged, "I don't know."

Sirius looked back up into Remus' eyes and tried to steel his resolve.

It was just one kiss. It didn't need to mean anything. Just like the ones he shared with James and Peter.

He took a step forward slowly to close the distance between them, "Can I touch you?" He asked quietly.

Remus watched him for a moment before he nodded.

Sirius reached up, Merlin did it take some effort, and cupped his hand around one side of Remus' face.

There was a twinkle of amusement in Remus' eyes, probably because his hands were shaking,

"Would you like me to kiss you, Sirius?" He whispered.

Sirius nodded mutely.

And they kissed, a deep, slow kiss that Sirius would bet the boy's dormitory mistletoe has never seen before.

Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus' neck and pulled him closer, he felt hands at his waist.

And the kiss did mean something, to both of them.

It was odd, how natural this was. Remus was his best friend, kissing his best friend shouldn't feel like this, should it?

When they pulled away, Remus smiled softly at him, "I'm sorry." He whispered, pressing another soft kiss to his forehead.

"For what?" Sirius' breathed, he couldn't image a single reason Remus would ever apologize after that. It was single handedly the best thing that had ever happened to him.

But then Remus was smiling again,

"For tricking you into kissing me."

It took a moment, but Sirius finally realised maybe Remus wasn't just his best friend after all.

"Oh." Sirius swallowed hard, "So you-" He trailed off, Remus smiled again,

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Remus looked hopeful and Sirius couldn't help smiling back.

"Okay." He whispered as he pulled Remus in for another kiss.

It wasn't until they heard a door open somewhere in the hall that Remus leaned back,

"We're still blocking the stairs." He mumbled into Sirius' hair.

"Who gives a fuck?" Sirius laughed, kissing him again.

"Should we just go?" They heard James ask. Peter snorted,

"Yeah, for the best. Merry Christmas guys."

Remus raised a hand vaugly in their direction as he pulled Sirius up the stairs to continue privately in their dorm.

"Merry Christmas, Moons." Sirius smiled just before the door closed behind them.

[elisysd]

22. We watched it begin again

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Begin Again - Taylor Swift 

“So Charles, can you talk us through your special design?” the Italian journalist asked him.

“Well, I’ve wanted to pay a little tribute to the person who supported me throughout this season. There are, of course, all the mechanics and engineers that worked on the car, both in Maranello and who traveled with us. But I also wanted to add my friends and family this year. They all contributed to make this season more bearable for me.”

“Bearable? Was it this hard for you?”

“No. I mean, it has been tough, for sure. 2022 was not perfect but at least I was fighting for podiums and victories. This year, I quickly understood that I wouldn’t be able to do that. The car was not it, that’s it. It happens and as a driver your job is to make the most out of what you have and to push the hardest you can, in hopes to extract as much performance as you can. So, yeah, mentally it has been tough to accept at first and this is why I wanted to thank them in a more special way. So here, you have my best friends who travel with me, my mom and brothers, my girlfriend who copes with me even when I’m not the easiest to be around. She has a podcast, by the way, and I can tell you it is a great one, you should check it out. And last, but not least, I wanted to add her late brother’s name, who was a big fan of F1. This helmet will be auctioned and the profit will be given to the research against leukemia.” 

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Charles. Thank you for stopping by and good luck for the weekend.” 

You turned off the tv, shocked by what you’ve just heard Charles saying. Special helmet? Tribute? Luc? His girlfriend? You didn’t understand. He had broken up with you, basically banishing you from his life. What was he playing at? Mentioning your podcast, praising you, as if nothing happened? 

“Well, I think someone listened to your podcast and had a change of heart…” your best friend smiled. 

“But that’s the thing… he can’t do this to me… It makes me wanna take a flight to Abu Dhabi.”

“Why don’t you?”

“And what if I do? We need to talk. We need to come clean. We need to…”

“Breathe. Yes, you’re right. You need to sort out your feelings, both of you. You need to do all of that so you can build a strong relationship. But you have what matters the most: love. And goddamn, this man loves you. And you love him too. So pack your bags, girl, I’m sending you off to Abu Dhabi.” 

Securing P2 behind Max, Charles was confident. The Ferrari was easier to drive than expected on a track that wasn’t made for it. It was a surprising weekend and for the first time in a while, Charles had hope. A dangerous thing to have when you were a Ferrari driver. But it didn’t matter today. He was fully determined to finish the season on a high.

The Red Bull in front of him, Max as his main target, he put his visor down, letting himself feel his Ferrari, its power. It was now or never. The last dance. His last opportunity to conquer a win he so desperately needed. Oscar and his McLaren were right behind and he knew it would be a tough battle. The McLaren was quick and his driver talented but he had something Oscar was lacking and it was experience. Charles took a deep breath and waited until the lights went out. And when they finally did, Charles gave his best start possible, quickly coming behind Max, Oscar not far, fighting against George’s Mercedes. 

But no matter how much Charles was trying to be threatening, Max was unreachable. Therefore, it was probably a better choice to manage his tires, waiting for the right opportunity to arise. Laps after laps and after a good pitstop, Charles was feeling better than ever. He had pace, he had confidence and when Xavi told him he had the fastest lap, it gave him another motivation to push. 

“Verstappen only five seconds away, keep pushing,” Xavi informed him.

A look in his rearview mirrors indicated to him that no one was there and if he was looking straight ahead he could see the Red Bull getting closer and closer until he was finally in his reach. It was game on. He knew Max by heart, he had fought against him countless of times, if someone could take max down, it was him. Charles let himself be seen in Max’s mirrors, before launching his first attempt at overtaking him, to no avail. Charles knew it was pointless to try anything now but he just wanted to put pressure on his best enemy. And when Max least expected it, two laps before the final one, Charles attacked for real and managed after a tough defense from Max to finally take the lead. But it didn’t last for long as Max got him back at the first opportunity he found. But Charles wouldn’t go down without a fight and immediately pushed again. Wheel against wheel, egos crushing against one another, the air was thick in both garages, waiting to see who would come on top. Until finally, Max locked his wheels, sending him off the trail. A good save avoided him to encounter the wall but not without his front wing being slightly broken in the process. 

“Amazing job, Charles! Now push!”

He god did he push. He pushed like never. Like his life was on the line and when he crossed the checkered flag, he let out a scream of relief. His ears were filled with praises but he wasn’t hearing them. 

“Did we do it? Do we have it? Are we P2 of the constructors?”

“We are, Charlie, we are! All thanks to you. Splendid job,” Fred Vasseur’s words, filled with pride and emotions echoed in his ears. 

Everything went by in a blur and Charles wasn’t even sure what he had said during the after race interview. By some miracles, Max had still managed a P3 but by the grin he gave Charles in the cool room, you could have thought he had won. George was P2 and when he shook Charles’ hand, he didn’t fail to whisper a few words saying how impressed he was by how the Ferrari driver had raced today. 

When the podium finally arrived, Charles felt all the emotions held back all along the year come to the surface. All the late night work spent at the factory, all the disillusionments, all the hopes finally paid off and were worth it. He knew it, but when he scrutinized the crowd, trying to search for your face, forgetting briefly you wouldn’t be there, he felt a weight on his shoulders. And as soon as Monaco's national anthem started to play his eyes went up to the sky. 

“I know you don’t know me and you must be mad at me for what I did to your sister, but this win is for you, Luc,” he whispered. 

A champagne celebration in his garage along with his team and a shower later, he was finally ready to go partying until the early hours of the morning. Joris and Andrea were waiting for him, his bags with them, a smirk playing on their lips which drew suspicion on Charles’ side. 

“What?” he asked as Andrea shrugged, avoiding his glance. 

“Nothing. We were just thinking that it was a really beautiful day, don’t you think?” Joris replied. 

“We are in Abu Dhabi, it’s a beautiful day every day, mate. Seriously, what is wrong with both of you?”

“Well… we have a surprise for you. To celebrate your victory,” explained Andrea, mischief glimmering in his eyes. 

“No… I know what your idea of a surprise is and it is never good nor fun.”

“Believe me, I think you will love this one. Just turn around.” 

When he did, it took him a few seconds to recognise you. You were there, in front of him, a long blue dress floating around your silhouette, making you look ethereal. You looked older, tired and he knew it was probably his fault. A shy smile was playing on your lips as if you were unsure of what to say. It was brief, though, as you quickly shook your head, composed yourself and glued your eyes to his before walking determinedly towards Charles who was suddenly alone.  

“Y/N… I have so many things to tell you…” he started. 

“Did you mean it? When you said that it was important for you to have Luc’s name on your helmet?”

“I meant every word I said.”

“Good. Good.”

A silence floated in the air. 

“I’m sorry. I know it won’t erase the pain I caused you but I know the truth… You were right and I didn’t listen to you. Instead, I let Stan manipulate me.”

“It’s not only Stan, Charles… It’s everything else. What I said in my letter…”

“I read every word. Again and again. And then again, you are right. But you’re wrong about one thing. We will work out. We will find a way but you and I, we are meant to be. I don’t want you to regret us. And maybe I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to redeem myself and prove to you that you matter and that I love you, but so be it. I plan to woo you today, tomorrow and the next days. All my life if you let me,” he smiled, his forehead pressed against yours, your hands in his as he put them close to his chest letting you feel his heart beating loud. 

“And how do you plan to do that, exactly?” you smiled with an air of defiance. 

“I don’t know yet, but something tells me an idea is growing inside that pretty head of yours.”

You coughed, getting your composure back as you took a step back. You straightened up, smoothed your dress and looked at him right in the eyes. 

“Charles Leclerc, I’m Y/N, host of a podcast about racing. Usually I only interview women but I would love to have a chat with you, around a coffee maybe, whenever you’re free. What do you say?” you asked, hand outstretched, waiting and hoping for him to play along. 

“Well, Y/N, give me your number and I’ll see if I can fit you in my very busy agenda.”

And just like that, you both watched your story begin again. 

Author's note: So this is it. This is the (almost) end to a story that has been tough to write for more reasons than one. Thank you for those of you who took their time to read it, comment it, like it or reblog it, it means a lot to me. But stay around for a little while, would you, there is still the epilogue. 😜

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

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[sometipsygnostalgic]

Bit of thought and discussion last night over what makes a competent, effective movie vs a deep or interesting movie with Star Wars as our target.

So to highlight it in the most obvious way: George Lucas's movies are complex with deep plots, but are not well-written and fun to watch. So the prequels gained this reputation for being a bit of a slog because no matter how much Lucas loved this story he crafted, the way it was presented was lacklustre.

Meanwhile Disney tries to make a "competent" and entertaining movie with every attempt. Every marvel movie... before Endgame... was very entertaining and well-directed, regardless of if there was anything worth thinking about later.

When it came to Star Wars, Disney really struggled with this.

The Force Awakens is definitely a competent movie that hits all the beats they wanted it to. It has those good Classic Star Wars feelings, weighty lightsaber combat, a core cast that you love watching interact, and an emotional centre. It does the job it's supposed to, perfectly, whereas not taking a SINGLE risk with the franchise. It desperately doesn't want to be associated with Lucas's "boring power bloaty" prequels.

Of course the film recieves criticism for this, because it's just copying A New Hope without adding any new dna to the franchise. Every critic can see what Disney was doing, making a nostalgic star wars theme park, and they say they want Disney to deliver in the next movie.

Then comes The Last Jedi, where Disney's lack of direction became incredibly obvious. Rian Johnson took the Force Awakens critique FAR TOO MUCH to heart and made The Last Jedi the complete opposite - Everything TFA did, TLJ did in the opposite way. So instead of being a hero in waiting, Luke Skywalker is disappointing to Rey, he's ran away and fallen into squalor and he immediately throws away the lightsaber that brought him to tears at the end of the first film. And instead of leaning on the new trio everyone was excited about, Johnson splits them up permanently, with no interaction at all in the movie.

The Last Jedi tries to make itself more interesting by forcing threads into places that do not fit. Luke Skywalker in the original trilogy isn't a messy dark character, he's a starry eyed optimist, but this movie takes the easiest and cheapest route possible to turn him into something he's not because the author wants a darker more questionable story and has only got this one film to make it that way. The movie also leans hard into everything Disney was trying to avoid with the first one, long boring segments of whacky hijinks.

As a result a lot of writers have respect for Johnson's attempts to diverge from Disney tradition of super safe movies, his attempts to add stuff to Star Wars and make a unique film, but it completely fails as a competent movie and it fails as a competent story because there are too many authors clearly fighting with each other.

Movie 3... I've not seen it. I do know a lot about it, and Abrams spends the whole thing once again undoing everything Johnson did and trying to return to a safe Star Wars. TOO safe. To the extent that the plot completely lacks any comprehension because it needs to warp the story so much to return to the beaten path.

Somehow, Palpatine returned!! What the fuck!!! And why was this revealed in Fortnite???

Why are they puppeting Carrie Fisher's corpse?

Rise of Skywalker is disney at its worst because they have gone from being super safe to trying to return something adventurous to the safe path, without any degree of originality or creativity. I don't think a single actual writer worked on that film. It was all just direction to make epic setpieces, the pursuit of a "competent and entertaining" film instead of the ninth part of a story.

They are also repeatedly having to do this with Marvel. They have the lost the ability to do their own stuff with Marvel and are following a variety of comic plots, because that's "safe", right? But no, the comic goes to all sorts of crazy places, which gets in the way of making a competent and cohesive film. So theyre trying to get rid of some of that complexity, enough to make the writing bad, but not enough for Marvel to become coherent because that would require actually creating new stories and not following the basic, highly profitable guidelines of Marvel comics.