#i clearly don’t go to church anymore

[ghouloutboy]

Nice aim Pete, guess this isn’t the first time you’ve sprayed white stuff on Patrick’s face 😊

[steviescrystals]

my tags on the post i just reblogged got me thinking so here’s my current stream of consciousness

[greatunironic]

eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.

so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.

he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.

because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.

eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.

(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)

when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”

then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?

he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.

“you’re alive,” she says.

eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”

“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”

he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.

“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.

“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—

“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.

“maybe not.”

“don’t lie.”

“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”

“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”

“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”

“speaking from experience?”

“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”

“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“

“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”

“at the frozen four.”

“yeah, sure, that too.”

“what?”

“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”

“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”

“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.

eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”

“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”

“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.

the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”

“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”

steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“

“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“

“so,” says steve.

“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.

“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”

“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”

“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”

“coach! go time!”

“yeah?” he asks.

“yeah.”

“COACH!”

he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”

“pick me up in twenty?”

“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.

someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”

with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.

“damn,” he says quietly.

“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.

“how long have you been there?” he asks.

she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”

“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”

“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”

a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.

[sunniques]

saw your post and thought i’d send in a request (or just more of an idea that you can do whatever you want with)

i feel like joshua x priest kink is a pretty usual combo but i’d love to see your take on it (if you’re comfy!!)

ok so my idea: reader’s parents thinks that reader is possessed or something and hires joshua to inspect the situation. reader (very clearly not possessed) pretends to go along with it just to keep seeing joshua, come to find out that joshua isn’t as holy as he pretends to be? something like that

if you’re not comfy, totally understandable and i’ll think of another idea instead! but i would love to see your take on this if you are!!

- 🎀anon

— a priest’s guide to sacrilege

cw/tw: manipulation, sacrilege, josh is immoral af, bondage, gagging, unprotected sex, creampie

“Shh, sweetheart. This is all part of the procedure.”

Your moans are stifled by the fabric that was shoved in your mouth moments ago. Arousal drips out of your clenching pussy as long fingers slowly caress your folds. The priest—Josh—is watching you with dark eyes as you arch your back and gently tug on the restraints he insisted were necessary.

It’s all bullshit, but neither one of you would ever admit it out loud.

You’re not sure how or why your parents thought there was some sort of demon in you, but it was too late to make them think otherwise. At first it had been funny to see them be so scared of you since it gave you the freedom to do whatever you wanted. Then they got serious and brought you to some hot priest who assured them that he could help you.

That’s how you ended up in the church basement on some dingy bed, tied up and left to his mercy.

Not that you were complaining. You found the entire thing unbelievably hot.

“Such a naughty girl.” He tsks, shaking his head as he starts to undress. “So impure.”

You almost laugh since the sicko has you tied up and naked under the guise of helping you, but you only lift your hips to entice him.

“Filthy little thing.” Josh murmurs in delight, stroking his thick cock as your juices drip onto the bed.

His smirk is so hot, and you can’t get over it. If only your dumb parents knew what their beloved priest was really like. It almost makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry.” Josh says as he crawls on the bed. He slaps his cock on your pussy, gathering you slick on his dick. “I’ll make sure to fuck any demons out of you.”

Your eyes roll back when he buries himself in your pussy with one rough thrust. His groan is guttural, whispering quiet praises about how tight and wet you are. His leaking tip slams into your g spot, making you gush and leak all over his huge cock.

Lewd squelching fills the basement, the smell of sex permeating the air along with Josh’s groans and your stifled moans. He’s splitting you open deliciously, bringing you a pleasure you hadn’t felt until him. It’s almost too much, but the sexy little priest doesn’t seem to care.

“Fucking shit.” He hisses, watching how tightly your cunt grips him.

You pathetically whimper as he keeps fucking his cock into you. His movements are rough and fast, yet they’re precise. Josh smirks when you gush all over his cock, staining the length of it with your orgasm. His brutal pace doesn’t change even when he’s spilling his hot cum inside you. That’s when you learn the devious priest plans on using you until he can’t anymore.

Or until you’re no longer possessed… whichever comes first.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part ten

authors note: none

song inspo: “with me” by destiny’s child

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive themes, angst

words: 5.8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

You’ve never been a person who was big on holidays. 

Never saw the massive appeal. Easter was annoying cause everyone and they mama showed up to church just to show off their kids silk press and frilly dresses. Halloween was too dark. Valentine’s Day was always a toss up, depending on where you and Amir were at the moment. And 4th of July….fuck America. 

But Christmas…..in recent years, it’s starting to become a holiday you really enjoy. You owe a lot of that to Callie and her pure joy and excitement at the "most wonderful time of the year," for gifts, yes, but she loved celebrating “baby Jesus” birthday just as much.

And you couldn't deny that your town was most beautiful this time of year. Stunningly decorated, there wasn’t a non-resident building in town that wasn’t dressed down in HGTV worthy Christmas decor. Walking through town really felt like walking on the set of a Hallmark Christmas movie. 

And the activities were endless, especially for kids. 

Hence your current whereabouts, sitting on a bench with your mom as Callie partakes with a group of other kids in a workshop with some of ‘Santa’s elves’. Your eyes land on her more often than not, knowing you live in a safe area but never wanting to take any chances. You also notice how talkative she is at the table she’s seated at with another little girl. You smile. Seeing her interact with other kids always makes you happy. Once she gets past her initial shyness, you definitely see sprinkles of your extroverted personality in her. 

Checking your phone from a text from Joe, you can’t avoid the pout when met with empty notifications. 

Your mom, forever perceptive, notices this. “When does he come in?”

“Tomorrow,” you answer, unable to contain the smile on your face. You’re not sure who’s more excited about Joe’s return: you or Callie. Probably her, but you’re not that far behind. 

And not even just for sexual reasons. Yes, that’s definitely up there, but also expected. Because one thing about sex with Joe: it’s addictive. 

Having him like that for the first time in years awakened things in you that you forgot existed. No one could make you come like he could, and he knew it, hence his smug disposition during sex. One thing you were starting to realize was that Joe fucked like Roman, but he made love like Joe, and it was a deadly combination. 

You woke up alone the morning after the date, but you knew that was the case because this man literally flew out for one night just to take you out. And dick you down. 

But Joe being Joe, left you a note, like something out of one of those corny but sweet, romantic indie movies. It was thoughtful, but he’s always been thoughtful. 

That shouldn’t have surprised you. 

Just like you shouldn’t have been surprised to be woken up by Callie jumping on your bed, happy to see you and wanting to catch you up on her fun sleepover with Alexis. Alexis, who made sure that the first thing that she checked was the nightstand where that Plan B absolutely was nowhere to be found. 

Used and discarded in your waste bin. That’s where it was. 

The smirk she sent your way, you just knew she was gonna have a million and one questions. And clearly waiting for Callie to not be present to have that conversation was too much waiting, hence your phone buzzing with texts while you watched Wish with Callie.

Alexis: You dirty whore! I wanna know everything.

You: What’s there to tell? You don’t see the box anymore, do you?

Alexis: Bitch, you know what I mean. It was good, wasn’t it?

You: Girl…..good ain’t the word for it. 😩 I’m so tired and sore right now. He wore my ass out. Had me up all night.

You: I stopped counting after 4.

Alexis: 😖 You have no idea how much I love this for you.

Alexis: I’m also gonna take a wild guess that since you took the plan b, ya’ll didn’t use protection? He came in you, didn’t he? 👀

You: Every.single.time.

Alexis: Oh, he down baddddd. 

Alexis: Shit, do I need to get you some pregnancy tests?

You: NO. It was just last night…..I may have to get on BC because that can’t be a regular thing.

Alexis: Well….don’t you want more kids anyway? 

You: We’re not even dating, and you want me to get knocked up by this man?

Alexis: Bitch, you already have one child. Give her a sibling. 

Alexis: And what do you mean you’re not dating? That is your man. Just own it. 

It was a fun exchange, as are most things with Alexis, and it brought up a valid point. Joe was gonna have to either wrap it up or you were going to need to get back on the pill. 

And you knew better than to tell her that this man literally asked you if you were on the pill and said good when you told him you weren’t. You haven’t given yourself time to process that….later date and time. 

But Joe’s definitely been the subject of several dreams that left you waking up feeling aroused. Hence you counting down the days until his return, yes for Callie, but also because you desperately need your insides rearranged in a way only he can fulfill. 

And you also just miss him. 

Plain and simple.  

“I take it things are going well between ya’ll.” Your mom gives you that all-knowing look that all moms possess. You roll your eyes, and she playfully nudges your shoulder. “I’m happy for you, sweetie. You deserve to be happy. You and Callie.”

“We’re just….I don’t know what we’re doing exactly, but….it is going well.” It seems a bit silly to not acknowledge that you and Joe are dating again, but until he confirms as such, you lean on the side of caution. Granted, you know he’s not fucking anyone else, and you damn sure aren’t either. You speak to each other as often as you can, and there’s seldom a conversation that occurs without one or both of you hinting at the mindblowing sex you’ll have once he returns.

Nope….not dating at all.

“Well, he’s divorced now, isn’t he?” You’d eventually caught your mom up on that important update, knowing that she would never really approve if his wife was still in the picture. She wouldn’t outright say anything, but her demeanor would be telling enough. 

“Yes, but—”

“And he’s obviously very interested in being with you. I don’t need to ask if you’re interested in being with him, and Callie would do well in a healthy two-parent household.”

At that, you stop walking, arm in front of your mom. “Mama….you did amazing raising me all on your own. I owe you so much that it’d be impossible for me to ever repay you.” And it’s the truth. Definitely age and becoming a single mother yourself showed you just how much your mom sacrificed to keep a roof over your head and food in your belly. Your mom truly is your hero.

She smiles warmly, placing her gloved hand over yours. “I appreciate that, baby. But, if you don’t have to struggle, why should you? Joseph seems keen on being in Callie’s life and yours as well. What’s holding you back?”

You chuckle at her final question. “That’s more or less the same thing Alexis said.” Only gone for a couple days, you're starting to miss her too. She's been a great source of support the past couple weeks.

“I always did like that girl. A bit on the wild side, but I like her.” Oh, if your mom knew the extent of what that wildness looked like. Not just for Alexis but yourself. You’re certain your mom would have a heart attack if she knew you were a regular at the strip club in college. So much so that the owner knew you by name and often propositioned you for a job.

You’d be lying if you tried to say you didn’t consider it from time to time. 

“Maybe it’s how we got together,” you guess aloud, sitting back against the bench. “I think I still have some guilt about doing that to his wife.” 

It’s a take you’ve found yourself thinking about more and more over the past couple weeks. She may be out of the picture now, but she wasn’t when you first started messing with Joe. She was still his wife the first time you let him take you to bed, and that’s left a stain on your conscience you’re not entirely sure how to rid yourself of.

“I understand that entirely.” Hearing the change in your mom’s tone has you wondering if it’s truly wise to have this conversation with her. Is it still a sensitive subject? “But it seems they divorced before you even came back in the picture. Do you know why they finally went their separate ways?”

Shaking your head, you inform, “no, and a part of me wants to ask, but when he told me about it, I could see it was difficult for him. He had this….sadness in his eyes. And I don’t think it was because of the divorce itself but….something else.” 

A part of you wants to ask him again, feels like it’s information you should know. But, another part of you doesn’t want to pry too much. If it’s a sensitive subject, you don’t want to reopen any open wounds. 

“Well, if this continues to progress, it may be a discussion that needs to happen. Even if it just gives you a peace of mind.” You know she’s right. It’s just not something you’re ecstatic about having to do. “And you probably should also start thinking about what changes you may have to make for this to continue to work.”

Confused, you ask, “what do you mean?”

“He can’t keep flying in and out sporadically just to see his child. Or you. That’s not fair to any of ya’ll and not sustainable. You’re gonna have to relocate to wherever he lives.”

That….that is not something you’ve thought about until this very moment. You know Joe bends over backwards to make these visits work, but it hadn't occurred to you how long this dynamic could continue. 

Your mom must see the wheels in your head turning, adding, “and think about Callie, once she finds out that’s her daddy, she’s gonna wanna be around him as much as possible. It could be easier if you’re a bit closer.”

You don’t know how true or untrue your mom’s take is, but it’s also another conversation that will have to happen between you and Joe. He’s always on the road in general. Will moving really do anything to help with his visits? Relocating is something you’ve never ever thought about. This is your home. You grew up here. Callie was growing up here. You always saw her growing up here.

But, that was also a version where Joe wasn’t in her life. Now he is. So, of course, some things would change.

You just didn’t imagine that is what would change.

Even if your mom’s guidance now has you wondering what it would be like to have a house together, the three of you, Callie, with an actual backyard she can run around in. Not just limited to the space of your apartment. 

“I’m gonna go say hi to Gloria.” She taps your leg, gesturing to her friend’s store. “I’ll be right back.”

Nodding, you sit there, focusing on Callie instead of the nuggets of wisdom your mom just dropped on you. 

“Long time no see, stranger.”

And just like that, you’re regretting ever agreeing to leave your place. You should have just done something at the apartment with Callie. Invited your mom over. Baked some cookies and shit. 

Crossing your arms, you refuse to look his way. “Amir, it’s the happiest time of the year. Please leave me alone, and let me stay in my happy place.”

“You’re still upset with me?” He seems genuinely surprised at this, like you cussing him out in front of your daughter’s preschool wasn’t a good indicator of how upset you were. “Gotta let that shit go.”

“I don’t have to do anything but live, be black, and love my child.” Scooting to your edge of the bench, you tell him again. “Now go away.”

“We clearly need to talk this out—”

“No, we don’t need to do anything because there is no we.” You catch Callie’s eyes and remind yourself that you don’t need a part two of the last time. “I told you before. That’s done and over with. In all areas. You’ll never see my name pop up on your phone ever again.”

And that’s a promise.

“You’re so fuckin’ dramatic.” He’s growing annoyed. If only you cared. “Stop playing. What you doing tomorrow?”

“Sitting on my man’s face.”

Your answer seems to take him back. “He still around?” You don’t say anything. “You’re not stupid enough to be fucking him again, are you?”

“Amir, the only reason I was ever fucking you was because he wasn’t around, but he’s here now, and he’s not going anywhere. And without hurting your feelings before Christmas, I can promise you, dick is not something I will ever want or need from anyone else ever again.”

He scoffs, just looking at you with disgust. “Mariah was right. That nigga really does have you acting different.”

At that, your head snaps in his direction. “What did you just say?” Instantly, you see it. The regret in his face in realizing he’s fucked up. “Why were you talking to Mariah?” Your best friend couldn’t take your calls or texts, but she had time to fill your ex in on your private life? “When?”

He looks off, trying to hide the guilty expression you’ve already clocked. “We ran into each other at the store the other day.”

Lie.

Scoffing, you lean back against the bench. And you laugh. All you can do is laugh because never in a million years would you have put these pieces together, but it makes so much sense. 

“Yeah, you can get the fuck away from me. Now.” Seeing him about to open his mouth again, you decide to separate yourself. “Fine. I’ll leave.” 

And you do just that, moving to another available bench where you can still keep a close eye on Callie. It seems they’re nearing the end of the activity. One glance over to your previous seat, you see that Amir is gone. 

Good. 

Pulling out your phone, you send a simple text. 

You: If you were too busy riding Amir’s average dick to message me back, you could have just said so.

There’s barely any time for you to slide your phone back into your purse when it beeps.

Mariah: ??????

It actually takes a lot in you not to call and cuss her out right then and there. You’ve been trying to get in contact with her for weeks and the minute you send her that, she remembers how to reply?

“Mommy!”

You’re grateful for Callie’s distraction. Smile on your face, you see she’s approached you with not only the little girl at her table but a man also wearing a friendly expression.

“This is my new friend! Her name is Taylor!” Taylor appears to be the same or around the same age as Callie, box braids styled into two space buns, and she and Callie share giggles like they’ve been friends for years. In a weird sort of way, she reminds you a lot of Callie. 

“It seems the girls have connected,” the man speaks with a chuckle. He offers his hand. “I’m Darius. Taylor’s dad.”

Your phone goes off and you quickly glance, hoping it’s Joe.

Mariah: Can we talk?

Instantly, you reorient yourself to the conversation at hand. 

“It appears they have,” you agree, offering your name and asking, “are you from around here?”

“Naw. Just visiting some family. Me and my wife.” He looks around. “She should be somewhere around here. Her parents only live about an hour out, so they came to meet us.”

“Oh, cool.” Glancing at the girls, you recognize that plotting look on Callie’s face and wait patiently. Coyly, you share with Darius, “I believe a request is coming.”

“Oh, most definitely.” 

Sure enough, Callie is holding onto your leg, face peering up at you. “Mommy, can we see the fireworks tomorrow?” That’s certainly not what you expected to hear her ask. Callie has never been too big on fireworks. When she was younger, you’d have to lay in bed with her and soothe her to sleep because they made her nervous. Now she wants to go to an actual show? “Taylor is going too, right Taylor?”

Taylor nods happily. “And my mommy and grandma and grandpa.”

It's like the mentioning of additional parties triggers something for her, Callie offering suddenly, “Joe can come too!” 

That gives you a pause. Joe’s never gone out in public with the two of you, outside of the hospital, but that doesn’t necessarily count. It was an emergency, not happy hour.

There’s a bit of anxiety, even though you know your town is the perfect place to do so. You’d put your head on the chopping board that less than five people would actually approach him, asking for autographs and such. They might recognize him, but they’d never approach. 

It’ll also be the first time Callie can refer to him as her father instead of just Joe.

Finally deciding, you answer, “if you want to, baby.” 

You and Darius share a laugh as the girls rejoice together. He pulls out his phone and offers, “why don’t I give you my wife’s number? You two can communicate regarding the meetup and whatnot.”

“Yeah, of course.” Exchanging information, you program Bianca Johnson into your phone, sending her a text after Darius says he’s already messaged her regarding Taylors new best friend. 

It’s in programming the number though that you see an incoming call from Mariah. It’s an immediate decline. 

Mariah: Would you pick up the damn phone, please?

Navigating to her thread, you put her on mute. It’s almost Christmas. You refuse to allow her or anyone else to ruing this for you or Callie. 

________

Personally, you believe that there should be a mandatory set time for Children to wake up on Christmas. Preferably, any time after 10am. 12pm would be even better but highly unlikely given most kids go to bed extra early on Christmas Eve. Callie is no different. You and Joe get her down by 6:30pm which should have given you ample time to bake cookies, finish wrapping her gifts, the whole nine yards.

If only you two had a better sense of self-control, because the minute you were confident Callie was out for the night, he had you bent over the kitchen island. And that was….that was fine, because you’d been thinking about him being inside you from the moment he stepped foot in your place. Hell, from the moment he left. 

But then you somehow ended up riding him on the living room floor, his back propped up against the sofa as you bounced on his dick, surrounded by the toys you should have been wrapping for your daughter. And while you eventually did get the gifts wrapped and cookies baked, you weren’t even able to change from out of your towel and into pajamas when this man propped you on your bathroom counter, spread your legs, and ate you out like he’d been fasting for 40 days and 40 nights. 

It wasn’t entirely surprising. Joe’s always had a big appetite for sex, for you. Not that you were any better. And the fact of the matter was that having a kid meant you had to take advantage of the little free time you had, which you clearly did. 

But it was now coming to bite you in the ass, because it’s goddamn 9 o’clock in the morning, and Callie is jumping up and down on your bed when all you want to do is sleep for another ten hours.

“Mommy! Joe! Santa came!”

It’s nearly impossible to hold in your groan, so you suppress it by turning over and pressing yourself into Joe. Of course, he’s already got his arm around you, holding you against his body. He’s also still knocked out. 

Finding the strength, you shove on his chest. “Wake up.” It’s a bit incoherent, sleep still heavy in you and hindering your speech. Blinking your eyes open to allow the sun shining from the open curtains (courtesy of Callie) to motivate you to get your ass up, you punch him in his stomach. “Joe.”

He grunts, and you smile. “She’s up.” 

Pleased with the fulfillment of her alarm clock duties, she jumps off the bed, yelling, “come on!”

At that, you sit up from the mattress, scolding her, “Calista Manaia Anoa’i, you got one more time to jump off this bed, sis!” Looking back to see Joe still trying to wake up, you shove him again. “You better get your daughter before she gets punished on Christmas.”

This helps to stir him as he lays on his back, hand on his forehead. “Leave her alone.” It takes a minute for you to refocus. His voice in general is sexy as hell, but that morning voice is something dangerous. 

“Her ass is always trying to jump on and off shit.” Kicking off the blankets, you stretch and make your way into the bathroom to do your hygiene routine. Joe is not too far behind, coming in a few minutes later, slapping your ass as you’re bent over the sink spitting out your toothpaste. “Behave,” you warn. The two of you share the sink and counter space to get ready with you finishing first. 

Back in the room, you make up the bed and check your phone, sending out a few, quick Merry Christmas texts, Bianca included. Even though you’ve only texted since yesterday, she seems pretty chill and you have a couple of things in common, kids around the same age, both working as teachers. It’s just unfortunate that she lives further down South. You’re not sure how you’re gonna break that to Callie, but that’s a task for another day. 

Today is an exciting, happy occasion, and you’re not gonna let anything or anyone ruin it. 

Joe is suddenly behind you, arms around your waist and mouth on the side of your neck. 

“Merry Christmas, baby” he murmurs, pressing kisses against your skin. 

Chewing down on your bottom lip, you turn around and lean up to kiss him. “Merry Christmas.” Hands on his chest, you ask, “You ready?”

He looks at you, clearly thinking about what you’re asking. This is what he’d been building up to, but you’re certain there’s some level of anxiety. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he finally answers. You’re not certain if he’s speaking more to you or himself. 

“She’s gonna be happy, Joe. I promise.” Stealing one more kiss, you take his hand. “Come on. She’s gonna start getting impa—”

“Come on!” She shouts from the living room, and you give him a look. 

“That’s your child.” His chuckle follows you out of the bedroom and into the living room where Callie is literally bouncing on the heels of her feet near the Christmas tree. You’re not entirely certain, but you could have sworn there weren’t as many gifts there when you left for your shower and eventually bed. 

“It’s Christmas!” Running over to Joe who swoops her up and kisses her cheek as she tells him Merry Christmas, you patiently wait for your turn, giving her a kiss and hug too before she’s pulling the both of you over to the tree. 

Using your phone, you snap photos and record intermittent videos of her opening her gifts. And in doing so, you’re certain Joe added a couple more when you were in the shower. He’s definitely that dad who doesn’t see an issue with spoiling the shit out of his kid. And as long as Callie remains kind and respectful, you won’t stop him. He’ll definitely hear about it tonight, but you won’t actually interfere.

Alexa playing Christmas songs in the background helps to set the tone as well. Mostly Mariah Carey because it’s literal law that one must listen to All I Want for Christmas is You on Christmas day. Really, starting the day after Halloween. 

You don’t make the rules. 

Literal fucking law. 

Callie suddenly pulls a gift, small and rectangular shaped, that you definitely don’t remember wrapping. “Mommy, it’s for you!” Thinking it’s something she made for you, you put your phone down and take it only to recognize that the writing is clearly too nice to be written by a child, not to mention that it has your name instead of mommy. 

Your eyes land on him. “Joe….what is this?”

“Open it,” he encourages, waiting patiently.

Still in somewhat belief he would actually get you something, you rip off the packaging and gasp. You almost drop it reading the brand name written in gold calligraphy. “Chanel? Thee Chanel?”

“Who’s Chanel, mommy?” 

“It’s a brand, baby,” you answer, distracted because you’re still stuck on the fact that you’re actually holding in your hand something that had to cost at least a thousand dollars. If not a couple thousand. 

“Open it, mommy,” Callie presses. This girl is both nosy but also loves to see people receive gifts. 

And so, you open it, gasping louder this time.

“Joe…..” It’s absolutely stunning, the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. Gold. An intricately decorated ‘C’ pendant with a diamond in the middle. C for Chanel for most people. C for your heartbeat for you. “It’s beautiful….” 

He moves over to you, helping to remove it from the box. As your hair is already up in a messy bun, he has no difficulty placing it around you, as Callie exclaims happily, “it’s a C!.”

“C for Callie,” you answer her, cupping her cheek before turning to Joe. “Thank you…..” Pulling him in for a hug, there’s something so emotional about this moment, something pure. You’ve never felt so cared for by anyone.

Never felt so loved. 

He kisses your temple. “You never have to thank me for anything I do for you.” 

Hating the fact that tears are brimming your eyes, you punch his shoulder, needing to not be so emotional. “You should have told me you got me something. Now I feel bad because I didn’t get you anything.” 

Thumb caressing your cheek, he answers, softly. “You already did.” Confused, his eyes discreetly focus on Callie who’s back trying to figure out which toy she wants to play with first.

That….that does something to you. 

You look at him, ready to say something, when you see it. See it in his eyes. A deep level of appreciation that indicates a story, a reason as to why this means the world to him. There’s something there. Something more he’s not saying, but you know it’s neither the time nor the place. 

Now….now is the time for something else. 

“Baby.” It’s surprisingly easy to catch Callie’s attention, so you pat the space in between the two of you. “Come here. We need to talk to you about something.” 

Wordlessly, she plops right between ya’ll with that naturally inquisitive expression. 

“Callie….” Joe feeling a bit nervous made sense to you, and you expected as such. But you never thought about your own trepidation in this moment. It’s difficult, but you do your best to push it away. “Do you….do you remember when you asked me about your dad?” She nods. “And why…..why you didn’t have one?”

She nods again, Joe this time grabbing her attention. “Callie, do you know why I came back in your mom’s life?”

She thinks about his question, answering tentatively, “because you missed mommy?”

He chuckles. “That’s true. I did miss her. A lot.” You try not to think too much about his words, to not make this moment about you or you and him. It’s about Callie. “But, I mostly came back because I wanted to meet you.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?”

He nods, “Calista, you are the sweetest, kindest, and smartest kid that I have ever met. And I love every second that I get to spend with you.” Joe brings his hand to gently palm her face. “And I especially love being your dad.” 

You’re not quite sure if you’re breathing or even fully present in the few seconds it takes for Callie to process what he’s just said. But then, you see it, a smile that could light up times square. “Really?” She snaps her head in your direction, looking for confirmation. “Mommy, is Joe really my daddy?”

Sniffling, you wipe at your eyes. Damn feelings. You’ve been way too emotional lately. “He sure is, baby.” 

Squealing, she literally throws herself against him, hugging him tightly. “It’s the best Christmas ever!”

“I love you, Callie.” Joe shuts his eyes, taking in this moment, kissing the top of her head. “And I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you too, daddy!” If you could capture this moment, capture those words leaving her mouth, forever keep them as a keepsake to be preserved for all time, you would. Because it’s everything you’ve ever wanted for her. To know she’s wanted and loved by both her parents. And finally, that moment is no longer a hope but a reality. 

“Wait!” She suddenly pulls away, grabbing the picture she’d drawn for Joe and given to him as a Christmas gift. “I’ll be back!”

He looks over at you. “What is she—” 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you answer with a murmur, still partially overcome with emotion. 

However, Callie is back in a matter of minutes with that beautiful smile on her face. Flipping it over, she exclaims, “I fixed it.” 

Your eyes immediately land on what she “fixed,” and your heart swells. She’s crossed out Joe’s name with a black marker and instead written above it “daddy.”

“I love it.” His voice is thick with emotion, and you move closer to him, laying against his side. Wanting to be with him in this precious moment. 

Callie wasn’t lying.

This truly is the best Christmas. 

________

“Come on! We’re gonna be late!” 

Callie’s animated voice somehow travels to you and Joe despite all of the hustle and bustle occurring around you, the sea of bodies waiting for the fireworks show to begin. There’s not much distance between the two of you and her, enough for Joe to grab her if need be. 

You walk close with him, you hands locked around his bicep.

His discomfort is obvious, so you assure, “relax. You’re not the tribal chief around here.” He glances at you. “They may notice you, but they’ll leave you alone. Especially since it’s Christmas.”

This seems to relieve him as she explains, “tonight is about her. I just don’t want to take away from that.”

“And you won’t, I promise. Just….just be present in this moment.” He takes your hand in his, giving a gentle squeeze. Continuing to walk with him, your eyes land on Taylor, Darius, and a woman who, even from a distance, looks vaguely familiar. 

“Taylor!” 

Callie rushes over to her new best friend, and the two embrace. You almost wish you had your phone out to take a picture. The woman wears a friendly smile, but instantly, something feels off. She approaches you, asking, “Y/N?”

Nodding, you’re shocked when she pulls you in for a hug and then apologizes. “I'm sorry. I’m a hugger, and I just feel like I know you already.” 

Callie takes this moment to jump back in the conversation, rushing over to Joe and introducing, “this is my daddy!”

That settles some of your anxiety. You’re not certain you’ll ever get tired of hearing her refer to him as such, and you know he won’t either.

“Man, uhh, hi, nice–nice to meet you.” Immediately, you know that Darius most definitely recognizes Joe. “Big fan.”

“Thanks, man.” Joe, understandably, keeps it simple, and you clear your throat. 

“Thank you for arranging this with us. Callie seems to really like Taylor.”

“Taylor too,” Bianca expresses with a smile, as you realize she also has dimples. It’s a little thing, stupid, but as much as you try, you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. “I swear, you would think they’ve known each other for years.”

Joe chuckles. “They’ve hit it off pretty well.”

“I’m sorry.” You hate being so off-putting and direct, especially given all of your text exchanges with this woman have gone so well, but you have to ask, “have we m—-”

“Bianca!”

A woman’s voice calls out, interrupting your conversation. 

She looks past you and smiles, waving whoever it is over. “My parents,” she informs. “Over here!”

Callie and Taylor are immersed in a conversation, as you make eye-contact with Joe who gives you that ‘what’s wrong?’ expression. Answering truthfully, you shrug and murmur, “I don’t know.”

The presence of Taylor’s grandparents snatches her attention from Callie. “Grandpa!”

Turning around, you manage a small, inauthentic smile to introduce yourself when you see it. And everything is suddenly ten ways wrong. 

There’s a brief second where you question yourself, question your vision, question your entire existence. But as he smiles, holding and kissing his grandchild on the cheek, you just know, know that you’re not wrong.

“Dad,” Bianca speaks, but you’re someplace else, someplace much different. “This is Y/N and…..”

She’s talking, but you’ve completely dissociated. You can’t say anything, paralyzed with shock and an overwhelming feeling of heartache. 

That’s why she looked so familiar. You saw her that day at the precinct, coming into his office to inform him of her sibling’s misbehavior. This is his daughter.

This is your sister. 

The daughter he picked over you. 

And this is your father. 

You’re going to be sick.

Partially aware of Joe’s suddenly cautious gaze on you, you place one hand over your stomach. “Excuse….excuse me….I—” You feel like you’re going to pass out, like four walls surround and are gradually closing in on you. Your throat is about to close up. “I have to go.” And you run, you run as far as your legs can take you, away from that situation, away from that visceral blast from the past, away from the overwhelming emotions that are threatening to overcome you. 

And you don’t stop.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Vanitas finding out his s/o was a former Paladin but got kicked out because she showed mercy to a vampire mother and her children? S/o's loyalty to the Chasseur was already wavering but being told to kill a mother and her children made her completely lose faith in them.

“Hold still.”

Despite the order, Vanitas flinches on instinct. Although he has a very high pain tolerance thanks to his past, his psychological pain threshold is very low. Aka: he hypes it up in his head too much. “It’s hurts!”

“I haven’t done anything yet!” [Y/N] snapped back at him.

They eventually sigh and let his arm go. “Just…stay here then. I’ll go look for some bandages and supplies. You work on getting over this so we can actually fix your arm.” They get up to leave and disappear into the shadows for their search. Leaving Vanitas alone.

He sat there for a while. Huffing and puffing about having to sit there like a child while he waited for them. Then, he suddenly heard the sound of his name, “Vanitas-san!”

The black-haired man tensed and grew pale as he turned, hoping he was just delusional from blood loss. But no. It was certainly Roland.

“What are you doing here?? Oh my goodness, you’re hurt!”

“Yeah. It’s nothing.” Vanitas coiled into himself on instinct. Though Roland was very nice, and an optimistic idiot, he still belonged to the organization that tortured him for years. “My uh…friend is getting me some bandages.”

“Awwww! That’s very nice of them!” Roland cheered. “It’s good to have a partner when you are fighting evil. This set back is just a minor hurdle, but proves to the fortitude of your cause!” Vanitas really wished he had some sunglasses to block out the blinding rays of Roland’s spirit.

“Ok. I have the bandages. Now if you can just hold still we can get…..” [Y/N] trailed off as they returned. Their eyes and Roland locking and an unfamiliar expression on the idiot’s face he hadn’t seen before. Surprise.

“[Y/N]….chan….”

“What are you doing here Roland?”

“Oh I was…on a mission…” He explained. “Hunting evil vampires.”

[Y/N] arched a brow. Probably at the comment of ‘evil vampires’. Vanitas was surprised too as he thought that the Chasseurthought all vampires were evil. “What are you…?”

“I’m here with….” Vanitas offered a little wave with his good hand to contribute to this awkward conversation. “Are you here alone? Or are you with….”

As if on cue, there is the distant call of Roland’s name. “It’s Olivier.” He told them. “Do you want to-“No. I can’t.” [Y/N] cut in quickly.

Roland nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll distract him and get him away from here while you get Mr. Vanitas out of here.”

“Roland. You can’t-“I won’t tell anyone.” His turn to interject.

[Y/N] put the bandages away and helped Vantias, who was still very confused, to his feet. The Chasseuralready making his way back to his comrade. “Roland!” He paused and turned back to look at [Y/N]. “If you need anything…”

The blonde just smiled. “Don’t worry about me! I’ll be fine!” Then he was gone.

Alone, Vanitas turned to [Y/N], “what was that about?” He was confused, and honestly a little jealous. There was clearly some history there. A history he knew nothing about between his partner and man who was once their enemy turned friend. “How do you know Roland? What was he talking about not telling?”

[Y/N] looked scared and dejected. Another expression he hadn’t seen before today. They swallow a lump in their throat before they tell him. “Roland and I used to be friends. When I was their Sapphire….”

Vanitas was shocked to the point that his whole heart felt like it stopped. They used to be Chasseur?? Sworn to the very people how tortured and nearly killed him!! “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“It was irrelevant. I’m not that person anymore.”

“Irrelevant?! Irrelevant?! You used to belong to the church and the people who….” He was too traumatized to even say out loud that they did to him. For the sake of ‘science’ and the holy order. “How could you not tell me?! How could you work for those people?!”

“I know exactly what kind of people they are Vanitas! It’s why I left!”

Vanitas stopped being angry for a moment and returned to shock again. To his knowledge, no one left the Chasseur. One, their life expectancy was short. If they weren’t killed by vampires, the treatments and drugs they were given drastically shortened their life (all for the cause). Two, it was forbidden for Chasseur to ever leave service. They were bound by their oath until death. They couldn’t just…leave.

“You’re lying.” He accused. So, [Y/N] sighed and told him the very sad story of why they left.

They had believed in the cause, at first. You don’t join the Church without believing. They were very good at their job and training, and eventually promoted to Sapphire. Second only to their Diamond. One day they were sent on a mission to irradicate a vampire village somewhere in the French foothills, but they were amazed to discover how civilized they were. No violence. No secret horrors. The people had been kind to them and in the end they couldn’t do it. Sending word that these people needed to be left alone in reciprocating peace that they showed. But the church didn’t take kindly to that.

They dispatched more Chasseur and with their force wiped the village from existence. [Y/N] was taken into custody for heresy. Clearly ‘manipulated by the vampires and their illusionary tactics’ and sent for ‘reeducation’. Sometime during the process, [Y/N] couldn’t remember how long they had been there for while they were tormented under the guise of salvation, they escaped.

“I’m not sure if they sent word that I was dead, or an excommunicated traitor, but they didn’t come after me. I still had to hide, but started a new life for myself away from the church. After that, I met you. That time and now are completely different places for me. You must understand that.”

Vanitas listened to their story and tried to process it. “I didn’t lie to you. Or…I didn’t mean to lie to you, if we consider omission a lie. If you don’t think you can trust me, or if this is too much for us, then let me know and I’ll fix your arm and go.”

Vanitas reached out with his good arm. Snatching theirs in his grasp. As if on instinct at the suggestion of them leaving him. “I don’t want you to go.” [Y/N] breathed a sigh of relief. “But…I will need sometime with this.”

[Y/N] nodded. They patched up his arm in silence and they left together in silence as well. They would be back to normal eventually. Or whatever version of normal their lives were. For now, this was just a lot to process. But if Vanitas could be unlikely friends with a Jasper, then perhaps he could make a relationship work with a Sapphire.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 25

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: All We Were, All We Could Be.

Notes: Man, that chapter is getting awfully close. 😰

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  25/47

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You felt your blood’s pressure drop like a stone to ground, then rise like a flame to air. Charles expression changed immediately from irritation to genuine fear. This could not be happening… you could barely hold back the anger boiling up inside.

“Is that true?” Charles asked you, clearly feeling misled.

“I-” What could you even say? How could you even start to explain the real situation of this ‘arrangement’ that Father Carden had made?

When Lancelot looked at you, awaiting the answer, you glared up at him. Charles got up from the chair, apologized to Lancelot and walked away to clear his mind and avoid a possible confrontation.

You rose to your feet and got into Lancelot’s face. “Outside. Now!”

As you walked out the door, you didn’t even look if he was following, you were too concentrated on controlling your anger before it could risk waking up the entire inn if it bursted loose. When you were a little away from the inn’s entrance Lancelot stepped outside as well.

He could feel the storm in the air, it announced itself in the look you gave him now. It had not been his proudest moment, but after hearing what that man proposed he could not stop himself.

“How dare you?” You shook your head. “Does it make you feel good to humiliate me like that? To tell people what I was forced to be?!”

He pushed his feet to approach. “It was never my intention to humiliate you.”

“Then why did you just do that?!” you shouted it at him.

He tried to sound calm while he clearly wasn’t, “He was acting too familiar towards you.”

Your tone grew demanding as he stopped right in front of you. “Yes. And?”

A frown settled on his forehead. “It is not appropriate.”

“Why? Because we are wed in the Church’s eyes?” You confronted him. “I told you before, I never gave you my vows! You don’t get to act like a jilted lover!”

It silenced him, he looked off to the side, jaw tense. He let the storm come over his head.

“You do not get to control who I spend my time with!” you told him off. “I never took the vow you took. I’ve never let religion tell me that I can’t follow my desires.”

He looked your way again, trying to decipher where you were going with this.

“I am not a maiden anymore.” you informed him of the personal truth. “Maybe you thought I was. But I am not pure as you believed, or wanted, me to be. I’m not some innocent girl who needs someone to protect her virtue. And I most certainly do not need a husband, that I was forced to have, to lay claim on me!”

Lancelot was quite rattled, still his stubborn demeanor did not let it show well. He was quiet as your fury rained down on him, and you wished you knew why he didn’t say anything or even argued back.

You stepped away from him to walk back to the inn. “This union between us is based on a lie. Do not ever throw this arrangement in my face like that again! You may be my husband, but my heart is not yours to have. "

He did not move a muscle when you walked past and away from him. His eyes were unreadable and they never lifted from the grass.

        It took him a while to return to the inn as well, you were already back in the room and making a comfortable place for you and Percival to sleep with some linen that Amelia had kindly offered. The silence between you when he stepped into the room was heavy. You were upset, and he… well you didn’t know how to place his reaction. He was just as quiet as you were towards him now. Percival must have felt the tension, he took it upon himself to chat away the silence until it was time to sleep. Fortunately for the boy, he fell asleep easily. For you it was difficult, the sour encounter between you and Lancelot kept you awake. And even with your back facing the bed, you did not feel comfortable enough to sleep. Having to share a room with someone you had a falling out with was anything but pleasant. Perhaps it was wise to set a boundary after this, to create the distance that had not been there ever since Cassian had handed you over to him. The silent tension was just too heavy to bear, and when they had fallen asleep you wrote down a note for them to find on one of the pieces of parchment you had found in the drawers of the cabinet, grabbed your satchel and went out of the room.

Amelia proved to be a night owl, she was still awake and eating some of the stew from that evening. “Up so late?”

You put down a few coins in front of her on the bar. “I want to rent a second room for myself for the night.”

She looked down and hesitated to take the payment. “I saw you leave the inn earlier with the Weeping Monk. So he is not your lover. He’s just your husband.”

Your mouth fell open. “I-”

She smiled cheekily. “I knew it. The way he looks at you says it all.”

You ignored her imagination. “It was arranged for us. We didn’t choose to wed.”

She let it slip, “I bet he doesn’t mind one bit.”

She must have seen you enter just as upset as you were when you exited. “I don’t want to talk about it tonight. I just want to get some sleep.”

“Alright.” Amelia knew when her patrons needed to be left alone, she reached over to take the coins but her hand halted midway.

When she looked past your shoulder in the direction of the stairs, you knew who would be there if you turned around. You pressed your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself before you’d begin to cuss him out. He was standing right behind you, you could just feel it.

“I wish to speak with you.” Lancelot’s voice sounded. The caution in his tone was audible. He had been in a rush to find you, he was not wearing his jerkin and had put on the cloak haphazardly.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest to shield yourself because he was in close proximity. “Can it wait until morning?”

“No.” He would not let this simmer on. “Another room will not be necessary. If we cannot talk this through tonight, then I will sleep outside. You will not have to flee the room, that you paid for, for me.”

“I am not fleeing.” It came out defensive.

He arched a brow but did not challenge the statement. “Good. Then we can sit at that table and talk.”

You held up a hand to stop him when he tried to take you by the arm. “What if I don’t want to?”

For a moment he was trying to read your eyes, the strength in his voice had weakened when he spoke again. “I will not force you.”

After giving it some thought, you pointed at a table. “Over there?”

Relief washed over him. “Yes.”

You moved past him and took seat at the table that was at a convenient distance from the bar and the stairs. “What is it that you wish to speak to me about?”

He moved the other chair to sit a little more at your side instead of opposite of you. “There is a thorn between us, I know you are not telling me everything you have wished to say ever since I arrived here. I had hoped that you would speak to me about how you truly feel about me being here after what has happened between us. Holding back grievances is what lets hatred grow, I prefer you voice them.”

He let a silence fall, hoping it would encourage you to fill it. But you were quite for a little while, contemplating what or what not to say. He was after the truth, to hear what you had held back so long.

You started. “Tonight I felt like you believe that you own me.”

“That was never my intention.” he said, quite shocked.

That reaction told you that he was sincere about it. “It is how it felt.”

He folded his hands together on the table, and after a few seconds he spoke. “I offer my apologies for what I did earlier. You were right to confront me.”

You said not a word, just looked at the way his fingers were nervously moving over his thumb in a soothing manner. He was feeling vulnerable, that much was clear, it oddly helped you to stay calm and listen.

His gaze did not lift up from the table. “I confess that I was concerned when I heard the man proposition you. I thought you were uncomfortable.”

“You thought I needed help?” It had been a little uncomfortable to hear the proposition, but not so much that help was needed.

He gave a shallow nod. “Sometimes I forget how well you can handle yourself in difficult circumstances.”

You kept looking at how withdrawn he was, as if he feared you’d lash out at him all of a sudden. “You were just trying to protect me…?”

Finally his eyes locked on yours, their intensity burned right into you. “I meant what I said about protecting you. It may have started at the Hidden’s request, but I decided to continue with it.”

Now it was you who kept your eyes on the table. “I accept your apology.”

He gave the incentive to let your thoughts out about it all. “This was not all I had hoped that would be discussed.”

You knew what he wanted to hear about, the truth about the ice that was not yet broken between you after the friendship was frozen into it. “I can’t hide that I’m hurt and confused by what has happened between us.”

“Confused?” He found himself saying it out loud.

“I loved your company.” You bit your lip to keep your emotions down and locked away. “And when I heard what Father Carden discussed with you about gaining my trust, about forging weapons with my magic… it broke me.” A silent pause fell, recalling the feeling made it come back and hurt again. You couldn’t look at him. “I finally had someone that didn’t hurt me, that was kind to me, and then that hope was stolen away. I hated you, and missed you just as much, you rotten bastard.”

You only saw his shadow move a little, but your eyes never lifted from the table, if they did then your courage to speak of it would falter. “I wish it wasn’t like this. That I could just trust you without feeling like a fool for taking the risk again.”

He reached for your hand with so much caution that you believed he would give up half-way.

Still it came and his fingertips rested on top of your hand. “I cannot undo the harm I have done to you, I know this now. I owe you the life you deserved instead of the one you were forced to live, by me, by Father, by your family…” His hand curled around yours gently. “I should have told you of Father’s order. I should have told you everything. It was selfish to keep it from you out of fear that you would turn away from me, a desperate act to try and hold on to what was between us. Because our friendship brought me a comfort I had never found before.”

A silence fell, heavy as his words sank into you.

He quietly spoke, “You were right. I wanted it all. To see Father proud. To have you near…” There was a short pause. “You did well to fight me off and flee, you took control over your future. And in the forest I was still too blind to see how bringing you back to Father would have led to the destruction of your soul. I was too blind… I am sorry.”

You had heard his voice break and he was trying not to let it show. “When we were locked in that room to face the storm, you promised me that I would have my freedom back. Was that a lie?”

He shook his head. “I wanted you to have your freedom.”

“But only after Carden got what he wanted from me. Because you couldn’t stand disappointing him.” you confronted him.

A silence fell over him, you could tell that he was thinking about what you had just told him.

Your voice was wavering when asking for a truth you feared to learn of, “Would you truly have been able to stand aside and watch as he made me into a weapon and forced me to use my magic against the Fey. To see him destroy me?”

He took a few seconds before he answered.

“Lancelot?”

His eyes fell shut. His answer was heavy. “No.”

He had imagined the situation for a moment. How you would have been forced to endure Father’s treatment, how your conscience would so quickly have destroyed your soul and the ruins it would leave. Even seeing you broken in his imagination was unbearable. He would not have been able to bear witness of it in reality either, his response to it would have led to his execution.

Your instinct believed him to be truthful, you could sense the remorse in him. Regret was all over his expressions. “Even if our friendship is real, I wish it was not born from Father Carden’s plan to manipulate me.”

He opened his eyes and leaned a little forward. “Then let us start anew. From where we are here and now. I will earn your trust and be worthy of it, I swear it.”

“We can try.” Even if it was to see if that spark of hope was right or wrong. “But how do we go from here?”

He asked for clarification, “What troubles you?”

“There is the fact that we are wed.” you pointed out the most obvious obstacle.

His hand released yours as he leaned back against his chair. “I know you do not consider this marriage to be true. But to me it holds value, I was taught such a union is sacred.”

This truly was a matter that needed to be discussed clearly it seemed. “You cannot ask of me to be a true wife. I never made any vows. This was decided by Father Carden, not me. I decide who I spend my time with.”

“I will ask nothing of the sorts of you.” He ticked his finger against the edge of the table to release some of the tension he must have felt. “What I mean to say is that I will keep to the promise of this union. I cannot decide for you to do the same, and I will not.”

What it meant was not clear. “Keep to the promise?”

He cleared his throat, still his voice wavered just slightly. “To be faithful.”

That was not an answer you expected to hear, it stunned you even. “I do not ask that of you. You are free to do as you please.”

His reply came quick, “It would please me to respect this union.”

This was an argument you would not win, that much was clear. “So, if you meet someone and fall in love with them, then what? You’ll tell them you will stay with a wife you do not even love, because of an arrangement that was forced on us?”

He went quiet and rubbed his knee a few times slowly.

You got the feeling that it had upset him somehow. Maybe you were being too harsh. “Do not let the Church have that power over you, Lancelot. Let yourself experience what it is like to not have to abide by rules of the scriptures.”

There was a hint of caution in his voice. “Would it be possible to discuss this if such matters arise in the future?”

An open discussion felt far more comfortable to deal with it. “That is alright.”

A breath of relief passed his lips. “I do confess I prefer us speaking like this. Calm, and open to hear what the other wishes to say.”

“I agree.” You hummed.

The jest came unexpected. “Without one of use setting our surroundings on fire.”

“Did you have to bring that up?”

“Is this not a matter we should discuss?”

“No.”

His curiosity won. “Were you aware that you could conjure up Fey Fire without the presence of normal fire?”

You saw the hint of genuine interest in his eyes. “I would have told you if I had known, considering I trusted you before all that. But I don’t feel like discussing this tonight, another time?”

He gave a nod. “What that man suggested tonight…” he could barely voice it, “Would you have done so had I not interrupted?”

That was a very personal thing to ask. “Spend the night with him?”

His eyes flickered away and focused on the wall beside him. He hummed.

You shook your head. “No. I barely know him. And I am not in the mood to crawl into bed with someone. I just want some peace and quiet.”

He moved his chair to stand. “Then we should head back to our room.”

“‘Our’?” you raised a brow.

Almost did he think you took offense, then he smiled when realizing it had been a jest. “Do not fear, I am not asking what the baker asked for.”

You scoffed but couldn’t hold in a soft laugh. “Good. Because I do not intend to ever consummate this marriage.”

His wit was sharp, “I thought I was the one who took the vow of celibacy.”

You got up from your chair too when he stood, too tempted not to get him a little flustered now that he opened that conversation. “I wonder if you have ever considered breaking that vow.”

It distracted him, he accidentally knocked his leg against the corner of the table and buckled over a little from the sharp pain that shot through his leg for a few seconds. Ouch.

You took hold of his elbow to support him. “That’s going to bruise.”

He nodded in agreement.

“Sorry. Did I distract you with my sinful question?” You bit back a grin.

“Yes.” he blurted out the truth.

It was to distract him from the pain. “Can I still expect an answer?”

He sounded mildly amused, “Why do you and Percival have so many questions for me?”

Was that not obvious? “Because when does a Fey ever get to stick their nose in a monk’s private matters?”

The pain lessened and he was able to start walking towards the stairs. It caught Amelia’s attention right away.

“Are you sure you do not need another room?” she called out after you.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” You politely declined. “We’ll share the room we have.”

She hummed, a grin on her face, her offer came out so casual, “I can rent you another room for an hour or so, if you need a moment away from that young one.”

Your friendly smile turned into a look of embarrassment at what she had meant. It took Lancelot a few seconds longer, and seeing your reaction, to realize the true meaning behind Amelia’s offer.

You fired back. “Like I said earlier, you can write books with that much imagination.”

Her thoughts were on her tongue. “I barely need to use my imagination. Look at how close you’re standing.”

Right away you and Lancelot looked to the gap there was barely present between you, he was the one who took a step to the side. Her boldness outmatched yours this time.

“Goodnight, Amelia.”

“Goodnight.” She waved a little, an arrogant gesture that suited her quite well.

When Lancelot did not move yet, you grabbed him by the arm and yanked at it until he followed. As you walked up the stairs and towards the room he questioned you on Amelia’s reaction.

“Do you speak of me to her?” he wondered out loud.

“Sometimes.” you admitted.

A corner of his mouth curved up. “What do you tell her?”

You hoped your honesty would scare away further questions he might have. “I have been trying to convince her that I am not bedding you.”

He let out something that sounded in between a scoff and a chuckle. “I suppose it is odd to see us here together. A monk sharing a room with a woman in an inn is prone to raise questions. And there is a child with us, there is enough seed for rumors to sprout.”

Your voice lowered the closer you got to the room. “Still, I hope she believes it. I don’t like it when people stare at me and I can just tell that they are forming opinions about me.”

He hoped to sooth that fear. “People will always form opinions, it is not our fault if they form the wrong ones. We should only concern ourselves over our own path and try to do the best that we can.”

Lancelot opened the door to the room quietly, Percival was snoring the night away as you stepped into the room with him. Wordlessly you exchanged looks with the Ash Man, he was trying not to laugh at how to boy laid sprawled out onto the bed of linen you had made for him. You returned to the heap of linen that you had made your own bed from on the ground. Speaking openly about your feelings had brought a great sense of relief, a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. It was worth it to try and see if this friendship could be saved, you certainly wanted to try.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Being up so late last night gave you it’s punishment for it the next morning, you were not aware that the sun had been up for quite some time already. Lancelot gently nudging you was what finally woke you up.

He smiled down at you. “I was starting to wonder when you would ever wake again.”

You grumbled something incoherent in your drowsy state, it only made him nudge you more. Even half-awake, you still registered just how unafraid he was to touch you. A squeeze to your shoulder, a few brushes of his hand over your arm and a risque pat to your hip.

He didn’t stop bothering you, knowing you’d fall asleep right away again. “You will have trouble sleeping tonight if you sleep longer. Come, up.”

It didn’t help when you tried to swat his hand away. He was persistent. “Ugh, gods! FINE!”

He chuckled and rose to stand. “I went and got us breakfast. Bread and a mixture of baked vegetables.”

The scent of the food in the room made you get up faster, you stumbled to the table to sit and eat. It was Percival who shoved your plate under your nose.

“Can I ask you something?” The boy eyed you curiously.

“Of course.” You took a bite of the bread.

Percival took a sip of water from one of the tankards on the table to flush down his breakfast. “Have you always known that you were a bit Fey?”

A bit Fey? It was endearing to hear how he worded that. That was quite a question to start your day. “I didn’t know for a while. I was five years of age when I first learned that I did inherit my mother’s Feyblood. I fell in the forest, a leaf of an ash tree touched my skin and I saw the marks appear under my eyes in a puddle of rain.”

Lancelot stood against the wall, drinking from a tankard of water whilst listening. This had been something you had not shared with either of them before.

“I hid it from everyone, you see… my family was not so good to me, I didn’t want them to know.” You tried your best to leave out the fact that you risked being sold at that age, or beaten to death. “When my half-brother, Cassian, found out I was part Fey, he traded me to Father Carden in exchange for his own life.”

“But that’s awful!” Percival uttered his dismay. “Your brother gave you to the paladins?”

You saw Lancelot grow a bit uncomfortable, but the boy had a right to know more about you. “Yes. And Father Carden ordered Lancelot to watch over me. We spend a lot of time together. Father Carden feared others would learn that Lancelot was Fey if they ever saw my markings appear, to prevent that from happening, he made us share a tent. And when my markings appeared no one else but Lancelot saw.”

Percival turned his head to look at the Ash Man. “They didn’t know you are Fey?”

“No. Only Father knew.” he admitted.

You continued explaining it. “The paladins thought I was Sky Folk. Father Carden lied to everyone to hide that Lancelot was Fey, because he knew the Church would see it as betrayal.”

Percival understood why and spoke to Lancelot. “He was using you to find our people… that is why he didn’t want anyone to know.”

Lancelot gave a nod, silently impressed with the boy’s ability to understand the situation so quick and well. “She kept my secret.” He took in a deep breath. “The day I decided to help you, something happened between her and I.”

Your eyes widened at him, and Percival looked at him with great suspicion.

It did not make him take it back. “I had upset her, and she lost her trust in me. Last night we discussed the matter and I hope to rebuild the trust between us. You have a right to know this, Percival. So you may understand that if at times she does not feel like speaking to me, she is not at fault. By allowing me to be here, and having helped me, she has shown a great amount of grace. For which I am very grateful.”

“What did you do?” Percival demanded to know.

You hadn’t expected the boy to react so fierce on your behalf and reached over to touch his hand to calm him. It did not help.

The boy was staring him down. “Well?”

Lancelot swallowed hard. “I was given the order to manipulate her into trusting me. Because she possesses the ability to create Fey Fire…. And I lied to her when I told her why Father Carden was interested in Fey Fire.”

“You what?!” Percival was dismayed and disappointed at the revelation, blinked and then looked at you. “Wait… what?!”

You send Lancelot a scolding look for being a little too honest towards the boy. The discussion that followed took a long time. Percival’s questions darted between you and the Ash Man. You got the Fey Fire questions and the ones about the Hidden, Lancelot received a scolding from the boy and tried to explain the situation as he had done to you. It was a heavy conversation, especially because both you and Lancelot tried to maneuver around certain parts that Percival might have been too young for to hear.

“Your father send sellswords after you?” Percival asked, elbows on the table and head resting in his hands.

“Paying them for it is perhaps the most coin he has ever spend on me.” you said bitterly. Even as you tried to make light of it, it still hurt, and Percival must have read it right from your face that it did.

The boy got up from his chair and wrapped his arms around you, it was what let your tears break free from the chains you had put on them. It felt freeing to let go of them, to acknowledge the pain they had held on to for so many years.

“My papa didn’t like me either.” Percival muttered against your shoulder. “He always wanted me to be stronger.”

You embraced the boy tightly, feeling Lancelot’s eyes on you from across the room. “We have each other now.”

Percival squeezed you a litter tighter, then let go. “So I can stay with you?”

Your eyes widened, as did Lancelot’s. “Wha-… of course. Were you worried about that?”

Percival gave a small nod. Lancelot looked troubled by it, he hadn’t been aware that the boy feared to be abandoned or send away by him.

“Percival.” He approached the boy. “I owe my life to your bravery, you do not have to be concerned that either of us will send you away.”

“He’s right. You’re stuck with us I’m afraid.” You grinned at Percival.

A careful smile formed on the boy’s face, he was not one to easily show his emotions to others. He took the moment to ask Lancelot, “If we stay together, will you show me how to fight like you did against the masked paladins?”

He immediately looked at you for permission, he was raised to fight but was this good for the boy to be taught too? With a nod you gave your opinion on the matter.

“I suppose I can demonstrate a few matters.” he carefully told the boy.

Percival was up on his feet not a second later. “Now?”

The amount of self-consciousness he suddenly felt was ridiculous. He was used to keeping in the shadows and was now asked to show what he could do.

You got up from the chair. “I’d love to stay and watch, but I need to go and fetch those herbs. Do try not to get wounded while I’m gone, I’ll still have to make that ointment.” As you passed Lancelot, you curled a hand around his arm. “Hey, when you feel strong enough and up for it, Amelia could use some help with the firewood outside the inn. She has asked if you could bring some of it inside the inn, but only if you feel well enough for it. Otherwise I’ll do it. Just let me know?”

He leaned into the touch. “I will do it.”

“Only when you feel well.” You were firm on that. “Don’t tear your stitches.”

His voice reached a warmth that not even he knew it could reach. “I am in good hands if they do tear.”

You let go of his arm, trying to understand the reaction in you at his words. Was it your imagination or had that truly bordered on being flirtatious? Surely it was just him teasing about it. “You won’t like my hands when I have to do all that work again.”

A dashing smirk curved his lips at the threat, he let you walk past him and to the door, ignoring how Percival was eyeing him with great suspicion. Then you were out of the room before one of them could offer to come along, and by the time you reached the stairs you could hear the sound of steel being drawn. With hope that Lancelot was careful enough not to accidentally harm the boy, you left the inn to search the woods for the herbs.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  You had walked the distance to the woods, being on horseback would have been easier for paladins to spot you. Searching for the herbs was a good form of practise to train your nose to pick up vague scents. Not all herbs however had vague scents, some of them smelled strong enough that you barely had to bother using your sense of smell. After stashing your satchel full of them, you started to head back to the village. After only a few steps, you heard the warning whispers of the Hidden in your ear, a chill ran down your spine. With caution you kept walking, pretending that you were not alarmed by the feeling of being followed. You moved your hand to wrap it around the pommel of your sword. With each step, you tried to recall all you had learned from Lancelot to defend yourself. Leaves ruffled behind you and you started to run without looking back. The Hidden spoke the same thing over and over again.

    ~“Run. Run. Run…”~

    And you knew better than to question ancient deities when they were trying to warn you. Branches smacked into your arms and chest, bushes with thorns threatened to slow your legs down. But it was the sudden hit to your stomach with a thick branch, just as you ran past a tree, that made it all come to a halt. You stumbled and fell, grasping your abdomen as a dull pain seared through it. Nausea hit almost instantly, but there was no time to pay it any mind. The man attacking you was already trying to grab you. You kicked at his groin, missing it just barely, it was still enough to send him back a little. Up of the ground, you drew your sword just in time to defend yourself against his own.

“Your father is expecting you, Lady of Ravenwick.” he spoke in a threatening way and tried to disarm you.

For you it was the incentive to punch him in the face. The only thing he would be taking back to your father was your rotting corpse because he wasn’t going to take you back alive. Being struck made him ruthless, you struggled to keep your footing, then his sword cut through your sleeve and a sharp burning pain began on your arm. There was no time to inspect the damage, you were fighting for your life. He grabbed you by your other sleeve, again trying to steal your sword. A plan formed fast in your mind and you pretended to struggle and fail to keep hold of your sword. He grabbed your sword, believing he had won and you were defenseless. His victorious smile was wiped away when you sank your dagger into his neck. Blood poured out onto your hands and it came out even quicker when you pulled the dagger out again. Stumbling back from him, you watched him fall to the grass and choke on his own blood. A minute had passed before you realized you had not moved at all anymore. When you began to move again and picked up your sword, a heavy tiredness came over your body. Right away you knew it wasn’t good, there must have been something on the sellsword’s sword. Poison? The feeling increased with each step, your heart was hammering in your chest. It was as if you were in a strange dream, nothing felt real anymore. All you could do was go ahead on the familiar path and hope the feeling would pass soon.

Once you finally stumbled up the stairs in the inn, you realized you could not recall the walk to the inn nor arriving there. How much time had passed? It was a frightening feeling to experience. Your hand dragged along the wall for support whilst walking to the room. Fear had you in it’s hold. You opened the door, praying that it was the right one, and found Percival and Lancelot sitting at the table having a normal conversation. All you could hear were your own heavy deep breaths through your nose, still not enough air seemed to get into your lungs. Percival looked up at you shocked.

Lancelot whipped his head around to look at you, he was on his feet and getting closer not a second later. Distress filled his voice. “What happened?!”

Your tongue felt too heavy, your head too light. It wasn’t until he moved your cloak aside and touched your arm that you realized that blood had completely soaked the sleeve and it was dripping unto the floor. Everything felt so slow and so fast all at once. He was asking questions. Percival was asking questions. Somehow you were sitting on the bed all of a sudden, your sleeve was being cut off by Lancelot while Percival was hurrying around to get what Lancelot was asking him to fetch. Needle, thread, water… your mind failed to connect the items to their functions. You had started to lean forward a little too much, why else did the Ash Man move an arm around you to stop you from getting closer to the floor. You registered hooking your arm around his for support, holding on to it as if it was the only thing to hang onto in a rowdy sea. Your eyes closed for just a moment to avoid seeing the room sway. And it was the poison that decided not to let them open again.

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[ziploc849]

Alright I’m back on my TMA bullshit welcome to the circus. This is a long with many episodes worth of thoughts so strap in

62. Holy FUCK. Mary fucking Keay is here and she’s killing people and putting their skin in a book to. Summon them again??? I have truly no understanding of the implications of this but what the hell man. Also Gertrude is either fucking crazy or knew waaaay more than we do (or both. Both is a solid option at this point) cuz she took everything very well. Also when asked who the book was from, Keay just said “The End”??? Like fucking Minecraft???? Idk what the hell this lady is talking about.

(Also I feel like I recognize the idea of a “The *blank*” in this series. I can’t remember if we’ve seen it before or if I’ve just collected some knowledge after being on the outskirts of the fandom for so long but. Whatever it is it’s fucked and I’m intrigued)

63 What is up with this fucking architect guy what is his deal???? Why does he keep building fucked up places where fucked up things happen??? Also weird that the people in the church seem to know/want to cover up something is odd. Also also the end with Melanie King coming back was an interesting lil thing, of all the characters I expected to be recurring I was not expecting her. Don’t like that she got saddled with Not-Sasha though, hopefully it’s nothing or there are at least other witnesses to her leaving cause otherwise she might not be as recurring anymore. Idk what Not-Sasha’s deal is but I Do Not like it

64. ARCHAEOLOGY MENTION FUCK YEAH. I could honestly go on a whole rant about just how much I dislike Gwynne based on her ideals when it comes to archaeology, as someone who wants to be in the field myself, but I digress. I am curious about the fact that this is someone clearly long dead who still was conscious in some capacity? Clearly they didn’t want to continue as they were. It sounds sort of similar to something one of the officers mentioned in an episode they were giving statements (can’t remember which). One of them mentioned being called to a scene where someone who seemed like they should’ve been dead from a suicide attempt kept trying to reach for the gun. The moment where the skeleton was trying to stab themself in the chest gave me a very similar vibe in the worst possible way.

65. I am following maybe 3 of the words this woman is saying in the first 7 or so minutes. But also the stuff she mentions with the man eating the computer is so unbelievably unsettling, and the stuff he was saying is fascinating. “The maze is sharp on my mind. The angles cut me when I try to think” especially reminds me of all the variations of endless mazes or places we’ve seen in the show so far. Jon reaching out to specifically tech savvy people is also super smart, and it’s sick that he has access to Gertrude’s laptop now. Tim and Jon fighting felt like listening to parents fighting. Im glad Jon is both getting a stern talking to and Tim is getting some sort of understanding of where Jon’s coming from. The fact that they both mention they can’t quit/can’t fire the other is interesting especially. I know stuff like that has been mentioned before, I’m pretty sure after the first encounter with the worms Martin mentioned something about “why don’t I quit?” But regardless it’s just another weird fuckin thing going on

66. Mikael fucking Salesa, what is your problem. I honestly don’t have a lot to say about this episode, definitely another example of weird extradimensional spaces, and some mentions of the weird, unexplainable heat, but also the way he mentioned the box “punishing him” as if it was a living thing was interesting. I also have a lot of thoughts on the stuff mentioned about Gertrude, and I’m really fascinated by all the stuff Jon mentioned about stopping asking about who killed her and focusing more on the why. As we’ve actually gotten to hear some of her recordings, esp the one with Mary Keay where she’s incredibly nonchalant about the murder and skin book, I think it’s an interesting idea that she may have been more suspicious that we thought.

Finally I think her lil shopping list was interesting, but honestly it’s the more mundane stuff rather than the Leitners that interest me, but I’ll probably make a seperate post about that cause it kinda rolls into a theory I’ve been sitting on for a little bit now

[uponawhitehorse13]

Ok so hear me out Yandere Arcueid, Ciel, and Akiha who fall in love with darlings that are they’re mortal enemy

So like Ciel’s darling would be a dead apostle (possibly a dead apostle ancestor up to you), Arcueid’s darling would be a executioner (perhaps even a burial agency member again up to you), and Akiha’s darling would be a member of a demon hunter family (whether if the family is active like the Nanaya’s were or are inactive like the other demon hunter family’s is up to you)

Also sorry that I requested the maximum amount of characters it wasn’t intentional but I just realized that I did

Yandere Arcueid and Ciel with an "arch enemy" reader

Author's note: Akiha's section was scrapped due to being too similar to the base game more specifically Kohaku's route.

-You work with the church as an apprentice of Ciel’s. Patrolling around with her at night and having her teach you what she can. That was until you had an encounter with the one and only Arcueid Brunestud. Ciel told you not to interfere and you didn’t. You could clearly see how even Ciel was barely a match for her. After eviscerating Ciel Arcueid noted that she should be out of commission for a bit and turned her attention to you. You were adorable. A scared little toy for her to have fun with.

-She'll chase you around a bit before making you look into her eyes and just running away. When Ciel found you she checked if you’d been harmed but couldn’t find anything so let you go home. The next day you are on a date with Arcueid. You don’t really remember how your morning went. You were kind of on autopilot until you arrived there. Not daring to go against her since you know what she’s capable of. 

-And that’s how your life is gonna be from now on. You can’t fight back and you can’t resist hypnosis. Arcueid is just going to keep you as her little church mouse. Despite you not being allowed in the church anymore due to your associations, Ciel is kind enough to check on you sometimes just so that nothing has happened to you.

-Ciel would probably already have a little crush on you she refuses to acknowledge. Having casual chats with you and such. It was all nice until you stopped appearing. She had assumed the worst until she found out no corpse was found and then she realised the situation is even worse. 

-When she came to your apartment no windows were open. The curtains were closed and the door was locked and bolted. When she broke in she found you curled in a corner. You looked terrible and were yelling for her to stay away. She could see your eyes had turned red showing her she was right. She picked you up and told you it was ok. You were trying to get away but you didn’t have the strength.

-You bit her. You drank and drank until you were full (I know her powers don’t work that way it’s for the ask). Ciel didn’t seem to mind. Her wound disappeared quickly too. It was dark outside so she brought you to her place. There she explained the situation you were in to you. She also told you that you should stay at her place from now on. 

-You can’t really go out due to the sun and at night there are too many people that’d hurt you not to mention the possibility of you attacking someone. It’s for the best that you stay at her place. She uses her suggestion to keep you docile. Magic is also there for preventing your escape if you’re more resistant. She has a lot of experience dealing with vampires so it’s for the best that you don’t resist. You aren’t even near her level.

[elena-fishr]

The Devil’s Thrill

🎄hi @dantesdebt!! 🎄

SURPRISE! I am your secret Santa for @dmcsecretsanta❤️ I wrote you a short story to warm your heart this season, I hope you enjoy it and have a very happy holiday and new year! 🎊

Silhouettes of gothic buildings cut into the city as the sun began to dip along the horizon. Dante found himself comfortable on one of the rooftops where he could get a nice view of things. He appeared relaxed, but his instinct was always active, always working, keeping him watchful and alert even when he didn't want to be. 

Fortuna was a strange place, a city more isolated from the outside world than Dante was. Lady captured his attention with it, a community that lives and serves a demon. It’s instinct that made Dante laugh at it. 

It wasn’t just the city that made this job strange, for a change Dante’s gaze wasn’t drawn to the demons lurking in the setting sun’s shadows, but to the ruthless violence a kid on the street was inflicting them with. 

He was something else, a spark of energy amidst the turmoil. Although Dante had only seen flashes of him battling demons, he could sense a strength in Nero that was reminiscent of his own-- undeniably fierce and yet strangely vulnerable. Every swing of his sword triggered a mix of pride and intrigue in Dante. Curiosity gnawed at him. It was the first thrill he’s felt in a while and he wasn’t going to let it pass him by. 

Dante’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, feeling the power being exercised down below and wrestling with the implications of that power. The idea of having anymore family was never something he dared to consider. What more tragedy could his own blood suffer? 

Dante accepted his solitude, but the thought of not being alone anymore brought a shock of warmth to his heart. It made him feel whole in ways he hadnt anticipated. Yet that very thought was a double edged sword. He didn’t want to disrupt this kid’s life. He clearly had his own battles to fight, doing a damn fine job of clearing out the garbage on the street. 

Dante stood at ease on the rooftop, he didn't have to go down there and introduce himself, but it wouldn't hurt if he just stayed and watched for a little bit.

While observing the kid a smile spread on Dante’s face. That power and that energy brought him a sort of peace only a devil would know. “You know, watching isn't the same as helping, Dante. Are you planning on sitting on your ass all day?” A familiar voice broke through his concentration. 

Dante turned slightly to greet Lady, her arms laid crossed against her chest and she had a teasing smile, a cruel one that said if you don't do anything soon you're not gonna get paid. Dante has seen that one before. Lady loved to be considered a businesswoman. 

“Planning? I don’t remember the last time I planned anything.” He turned back to see the kid move onto the next hoard. These demons were ugly, puppet-like creatures with blades for limbs. Dante remembers when he fought loads of puppets…. They were annoying and now they’re someone else’s problem. Ha.

Lady let out a large sigh but Dante could feel her step closer. Together they watched the young man whip around the street. He had the agility and the strength to deal with a hoard ten times bigger, Dante was sure. The kid was impressing him. Dante thumbed over the ledge, “Why should we step in, kid’s got it under control.”

“I doubt that kid is the one collecting devil arms. We’re looking into the church, remember?” 

Dante nodded. “Yeah, I know.” The church was somthing he didnt want to get to. Dante jabbed Lady with his elbow. “You gotta admit he’s pretty good.” Aside from him not noticing Dante watching him. The kid really should’ve sensed him by now. 

“Yeah, like a crazy mix of recklessness and stubbornness. Kinda like someone I know.” Lady looked over to Dante, her eyes accusing and then softening. A thick silence hung between them, a bit of understanding, a bit of apprehension to say out loud what they both thought.

Lady’s hand went up to rest on Dante’s shoulder, “Are you gonna go down there and introduce yourself? Maybe even make yourself useful?” 

The idea hung in the air, as absurd as it was enticing. “Not quite what I had in mind,” Dante replied. The smile from before returning to him. “I’m gonna keep an eye on him. See how strong he is, measure what he can handle.” 

Lady’s hand gave one firm, reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to pitch in.” 

Dante scoffed. “Afraid?” He was excited. The thrum of powerful demon energy aided in the feeling. “I’m just hoping I don’t get in the way!” 

Lady adjusted the strap of her beloved Kalina Ann before peering down the building’s ledge to get a better look at the fighting. “Well look at him go, and with one arm in a sling. He’s nearly made it to the end of the block. You’re gonna have to move soon if you wanna keep stalking.” Lady straightened up and tugged on Dante’s new red leather coat. “Take care of that kid.” 

It was strange how she understood, being that she’s human and everything. Dante kept Lady close for a reason. She’s smarter than she lets on and Dante figured that she laid out the job very purposefully.

A piece of him was walking around, the blood of Sparda, and if he dared to say, his family. He was never afraid of family, it was just the losing them part that tore away at him.

He felt Lady step away. “I’m gonna check in on Trish. I’m sure she’s knee deep in her own demon horde. This city's a mess!” 

Dante waved her off. Lady was pretty good at putting on a ‘business comes first’ front, but she’s always the one checking in on everyone. Humans. 

Using Kalina Ann’s grapple, she propelled herself across buildings to cover as much ground as possible to get to where Trish supposedly was. 

Dante’s attention never fully left the Fortuna kid, though. That was his blood fighting out there. This city may worship Sparda, but they had no idea what he stood for if they’re opening up all of these hell gates. 

Dante tricked to the next building in an effortless movement. His smile was unfaltering watching the kid. Yeah, it had been years since he’d felt like this.

[midnightrings]

Still trying to collect my thoughts after the finale, but one of the many things I love about the final conversation between Hawk and Tim is how clearly Tim has moved on – not by forgetting about Hawk or because he didn’t love him anymore, but by accepting that his own love for Hawk was enough. He didn’t expect more, he didn’t need more.

Hawk, on the other hand, has constantly been running away from his love for Tim, unable to admit how important Tim essentially was for him. I found it almost funny how he asked “Don’t you need me?” back in episode 7, because it is very clear at that point that Hawk needs him much more than Tim needs Hawk. But the problem is that Hawk never wanted to need Tim; never wanted to be in love with him. Tim has been honest within his feelings for Hawk, which has allowed him to find peace. Hawk has never been able to do that.

It was clear from the beginning that Tim needed someone like Hawk in his life – someone that represented love and passion to him. He also found that love and passion in Church and within his idolization of McCarthy. But Hawk allowed him to be authentically himself – something that neither his faith nor his political beliefs, and not even his family, could give him.

Besides being fond of him, I believe that Hawk very much admired Tim from the very beginning. He admired Tim’s care and passion, because those are the exact things Hawk was missing and needed in his life. The last scene of the first episode already shows that Hawk needs Tim – needs his comfort and compassion.

Essentially, Hawk is the only person in Tim’s life that Tim feels like he can truly be himself with. And Tim is the only person in Hawk’s life that Hawk can allow himself to be vulnerable with.

Hawk is fine with the way their relationship continues because it is always on his terms. Tim is there for him and he doesn’t need more. But Tim clearly struggles within it, because he does need more than Hawk can give him. He doesn’t just want to eat dinner in a restaurant, pretending Hawk is his uncle, but he wants to eat dinner in a restaurant while letting everyone know that this is the man he loves.

Then Hawk decided to end their relationship at the worst time possible: the one time that Tim truly needed Hawk. At this point, they are both aware that Tim has to let go of Hawk, yet neither can admit that Hawk has to let go as well. As a result, Hawk wants to reunite with him in ’57, and Tim relents, but with different expectations – ready to have the casual affair Hawk always wanted. I think the scene of them dancing together naked is a quite pivotal scene on why this didn’t work. For one, Tim is clearly unable to just be casual about anything. But it also shows that Hawk very clearly can’t have anything casual with Tim anymore either.

Tim then continues his search for something more – searching for what he found with Hawk but knew very well Hawk could not give him. First, he’s returning to his faith, trying to become a priest. Then he becomes a social worker. And, throughout all this, he’s still passionate about his political beliefs – and while those beliefs have changed over the years, the root to it all is still his compassion and care. He also moves to San Francisco, choosing to be authentically himself by coming out, and living within a queer community. He doesn’t need Hawk anymore. He still loves him, but he doesn’t need him.

Hawk, however, has never tried to look for the comfort Tim has given him elsewhere. He pushed Tim out of his life when he believed that he had to, then tried to reconcile when it was convenient for him. Because, in the end, even his family could not give him the same love and care, as he constantly felt like he had lie to them. And don’t get me wrong, Hawk clearly loved his family, but he never found the same comfort with them as he had with Tim, because with Tim he could be vulnerable in a way that he has never allowed himself to be with Lucy or their children.

However, after Tim leaves him in ’79, I do believe that he is trying his best to let Tim go. He’s become much more caring when we meet him in ’86, possibly allowing himself to find comfort and happiness in the life he has built with his family.

At this point, Tim has found peace within his feelings for Hawk. He doesn’t need him anymore, but neither does he regret anything. He still loves him, but that love is enough for him. He’s not searching for more, because he’s already found it.

And this is perhaps the first time that Hawk is truly there for Tim – deciding to stay with him, standing by his side, showing his love for him publicly and eventually admitting it to his daughter. And while I believe that Hawk has been more or less aware of his feelings for Tim since the 50s, I also believe that he only truly admitted it to himself after everything was over. His confession to his daughter was also a confession to himself.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Sins (Part 2)

Regulus Black AU

Summary: Original Request: i don't really have a fleshed-out idea on this nasty request but what about a smut fic on regulus but he's a priest. ik its insane but i thought of regulus black/paul atreides wearing the clerical collar thing and oh my god he looks so hot

Summary: (After being requested I'm making other parts to this story) After a disastrous end to their first meeting Regulus wants to fix everything that he's done wrong. Now the only question is, will you forgive him?

Pairings: Regulus Black/Reader

Link to Part 1

__

“You made your feelings clear.”

Regulus snapped up. From a cold sleep, your words woke up right up. Regulus groaned rubbing a hand over his face. He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

“What is happening to me?”

Regulus grumbled. It had been a little over a month since his encounter with you in the church. With each day he tried so hard to forget what he did but failed…miserably.

“Priests aren’t supposed to sleep with any good-looking woman that comes his way. I should have never also made her feel less than because she is a showgirl either. Y/n didn’t deserve the way that I treated her.”

Regulus thought as he looked at the bedside clock. It read 2:50 am. Is this what he was supposed to go through as a teenager and just missed the memo? If so, he suddenly understood his older brother a lot more.

All of the feelings that Regulus had been feeling since the first time that he laid eyes on you were a whirlwind of confusion. It had started with the sex-filled dreams which led to the two of you actually having sex. Now here Regulus sat with that particular day going on repeat in his mind.

“So this is sexual frustration or am I in love with her? Can I be in love? Of course, I can. I’m human even if I’m a priest? A priest…I don’t qualify for this job anymore.”

Regulus thought miserably. Getting out of bed, Regulus looked at his reflection in the mirror. The love bites that you had left on his chest and neck had healed but Regulus could point out exactly where they were. Everything about you, Regulus could vividly remember. He could remember just how you felt in his arms, how soft your skin was, the way you moaned his name, the way you felt like velvet around him….

“I have to stop.”

Regulus groaned. He considered praying for a moment but at the same time, it felt dirty. Praying to a deity for the return of a woman that Regulus was never meant to “know” was a surefire way to be struck down.

“But I haven’t been struck down…is this real? Is everything that I believed for years real?”

Regulus found himself questioning everything that he ever believed once again.

“I have to find her.”

(the next morning)

Sirius stood in his kitchen waiting for his new tea kettle to work.

“Any day now, mate. Remus said that you were supposed to be amazing and all that I have is cold water.”

The sound of the doorbell ringing pulled Sirius from his thoughts. He gave the tea kettle a final glare before going to the door and opening it. Sirius was surprised to see Regulus on the other side of the door dressed in…normal clothes. He also noted how on edge his younger brother looked. This was a far contrast from the normally well-put-together calm person that Regulus typically was.

“Uh…hi…so Regulus what with the outfit? Where is your priest outfit?”

Regulus immediately shook his head.

“I quit! Sirius, I need your help. I fucked up big time!”

Sirius moved aside to let Regulus inside before chuckling to himself.

“He said fuck.”

Sirius closed the door before going back to the living room where Regulus stood pacing around the living room. Remus had come in from the back garden and was watching Regulus clearly confused as well.

Sirius gave Remus a shrug before turning back to his brother.

“So…Regulus…you said fuck, quit being a priest, and are pacing my living room. Do you want to tell me…”

“I slept with a woman!”

Regulus nearly yelled. He put a hand over his mouth as if he was spilling some big secret. Neither Sirius nor Remus moved for a moment. Both stood staring at Regulus as if he had grown an extra head.

“I slept with a woman and I think I’m in love with her but I royally fucked up. I told her that it was a temptation and never should have happened. She was understandably upset and won’t speak to me now.”

Sirius held a hand up.

“So…you mean to tell me that you…YOU…slept with an actual woman?”

Regulus gave Sirius an exasperated look.

“YES! Please keep up!”

Sirius choked back a giggle before composing himself.

“And you are in love with her?”

Regulus nodded sitting down and putting his hands over his face.

“Yes…maybe…I’m feeling something. She’s all that I can think about. I can not get her out of my mind. It's dreams about being with her in an actual relationship and sex. It doesn’t stop! All that I can think of is her sweet voice and soft skin.”

Sirius glanced over to Remus, who was looking as shocked as he was. Neither of the men ever expected something like this to happen. Regulus was so deadest on being a priest and adamant that he was asexual. After years of keeping that stance up…it was easy for Remus and Sirius to believe him.

Remus stepped closer to Regulus.

“Regulus, you should breathe. Look, would you like Sirius and I to help find her?”

Regulus looked up as Sirius’ mouth dropped.

“Look, I was counting on him to get me into heaven. Padre! Salvation here!”

Regulus gave Sirius a cold glare.

“I don’t even think that I believe in God. At least…I’m not sure about anything right now. I had everything going along in my life than I’m derailed.”

Sirius sighed.

“Remus is right. Despite my salvation now being in question, your needs are greater than my own. What is the girl’s name?”

Regulus leaned back.

“Y/n.”

Remus came in, keeping his voice as gentle and kind as possible.

“And where is she? Perhaps we can go over and the two of you can talk rationally? Sirius and I can explain how you are. You’re a nice guy and just experienced something that you never planned on. You were in a corner and didn’t know how to react.”

Regulus groaned again.

“It's not that simple. She doesn’t live here. She’s in Las Vegas.”

Sirius’ mouth dropped further.

“What were you doing in Las Vegas? Do you have some secret life that I don’t know about?”

Regulus stood up and began to pace again.

“No, I have never been to Las Vegas. She has family here and came to a service with them. She’s a showgirl.”

Sirius had to sit down on that one. He couldn’t help the laughter that was coming out of him. Not only had Regulus finally been visited by the “sexual feelings fairy” but he was now in love with a showgirl. A showgirl was the definition of sex appeal.

“Reggie, this keeps getting more and more interesting.”

Regulus quickly grew annoyed with his older brother’s amusement at his torment.

“Do you want to help me or not?”

“Sirius, get a grip. Regulus, we will help you.”

Sirius nodded and got back to his feet.

“Well said, Remus. Sorry, Reg. Okay, let's find her. Remus is excellent at stalking people. To the computer!”

A few moments later, Regulus stood behind Remus and Sirius as Remus typed away.

“So her name is Y/n L/n?”

Regulus nodded as Remus typed your name in followed by Las Vegas, NV. It took a few more clicks for Remus to find multiple pictures of you. In some of the pictures, you were in your showgirl costume. In others, you were dressed in elegant dresses.

Remus turned to meet Sirius’ gaze as his boyfriend leaned back in his chair.

“Damn, Reg. She is pretty! I don't blame you for this. If she was some ugly hideous thing, I would be concerned but this girl…damn!”

Remus was busy typing away on the keyboard.

“Got it. I have her address. She lives with a woman named Mindy. That has to be her roommate.”

Regulus looked baffled by Remus’ methods.

“How do you know all of this?”

Remus smiled.

“Skills, my friend. I can find out anything about anyone. I took the liberty of booking us some airplane tickets. We should be going soon.”

Regulus suddenly became panicked. He was going to be finding you. What was he supposed to say? Would a simple “I’m sorry” really take care of this? Regulus couldn't say yes or no.

“What if she won’t speak to me? What if all of this is for nothing? I have thrown away everything that I have worked so hard for.”

Sirius reached out and gently grasped his brother’s shoulder.

“You’ll never know what will happen if you don’t try to talk to her.”

On the airplane, Regulus sat with his head down silently brooding. All of this was happening so fast that he couldn’t mentally keep up. He was partially mourning his old life. The life that he spent so much time in effort working toward. Something, however, told Regulus that you were worth every moment of it.

Even if he really didn't know you, it all seemed worth it. Getting to know you healthily seemed worthy of every moment of confusion. What if you were the one missing puzzle piece in his life? What if you were the “one” who could put everything he felt into perspective? You would be the one to prove to Regulus that love truly existed…

“I hope that love actually exists.”

Regulus thought as Sirius turned to him.

“Okay, Remus has put more together about Y/n. Her friend Mindy is a fashion designer. Y/n is her model. Dude, you weren’t kidding, this woman is stunning. Here watch this, you can stare at her moving.”

Regulus took the phone from his brother and hit play on the video. It was a promotion made for the woman named Mindy’s fashion portfolio. Regulus smiled the moment that you showed up on the screen dressed in an emerald green cocktail dress. Simply staring at you was enough to make Regulus’ panic calm. With each pose, soft smile, and lyric of the happy pop song playing, Regulus felt himself falling further and further over that cliff.

“I've learned to feel what I cannot see, but with you, I lose that vision I don't know how to dream your dream so I'm all caught up in the superstition I want to reach out and pull you to me.Who says I should let a wild one go free Trying to catch your heart is like trying to catch a star But I can't love you this much, baby and love you from this far Waiting for a star to fall and carry your heart into my arms That's where you belong in my arms, baby”

Regulus had never agreed more with a song lyric in his life. He played the video again simply to see you smile.

“What if she thinks that I am some kind of nutcase? I mean, I had you two cyberstalk her and I’ll but turning up at her door unannounced. What if she thinks that I’m a creep?”

Sirius gave his brother a sympathetic expression. He knew that there was a very real possibility of this happening. Sirius only hoped that you would flattered by the fact that Regulus was putting so much effort into apologizing for how he treated you. If he has to, Sirius would talk to you himself and explain that Regulus left everything for you…could that not be worth some redeeming qualities?

“You won’t have to worry about him cheating. Regulus has never been into anyone like he is you. The man left the priesthood for you. Not many women can say that about their lovers. The man literally dumped God for you. He may have said some things that were really…cold…but that isn’t him. Regulus may play tough because that’s how we were raised. Could you please just give him a chance?”

Sirius had put that together for his speech if it came down to it. He was also positive that Remus could come up with something more profound as well.

“I don’t think she will. Granted, I don’t know Y/n but I would be totally flattered if some guy left something like the priesthood for me. Add hopping on a plane and showing up at my doorstep with a heartfelt apology…my panties would be coming off…now this is if I were a woman, okay?”

Sirius was happy when Regulus smiled at that.

“That makes me feel somewhat better and also totally uncomfortable at the same time.”

Sirius leaned back in his seat as the “fasten seatbelt” sign came on.

“Alsmot showtime, Reggie.”

An hour later, all three men stood outside of a townhome. Regulus stared at the doorbell as his heart raced. This was it! This was the moment that he would know if you would truly forgive him and give him a shot…or if he completely blew it.

“Reg, rign the doorbell man. It's like standing on the surface of the sun out here.”

Sirius grumbled from behind him. The Las Vegas heat was something that Sirius was clearly not used to.

“Okay, here goes nothing.”

Regulus replied before reaching out and pushing the doorbell. The moment that Regulus heard the bell, he could have passed out. Was it too late to run? Could he jump in a bush? The answer was no. Regulus couldn’t chicken out now. He coudln’t run to the priesthood anymore to avoid an uncomfortable arranged marriage courtesy of his mother. It was time for Regulus to stop running.

A moment later the door opened and who had to be Mindy stood on the other side. She looked between Regulus, Remus, and Sirius with a polite smile.

“Hi, can I help you?”

Regulus bit the inside of his lip before taking a deep breath.

“Hi, can I please see Y/n?”

Mindy raised an eyebrow before smiling again.

“I’m sorry, she isn’t home. Who are you?”

Regulus nervously scratched the back of his head. Would Mindy start cussing him out? Did she know what he did? Of course, she did. She had to.

“I’m Regulus Black. I uh…”

Mindy’s mouth dropped. The smile faded as she gave him a scathing look. Mindy knew all about Regulus. You had told her all about the event that took place in the church and how it felt right…until Regulus dismissed you like some common whore.

“Oh! You’re Regulus.”

Regulus nodded uncomfortably.

“I see you know who I am.”

Mindy nodded closing the door and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, I’m Mindy and yeah, I know who you are. You really hurt my best friend.”

Sirius took this as his cue to step up.

“Hi there. I’m Sirius Black. Regulus is my brother. Mindy, I apologize for just turning up on your doorstep. If you would just give me a few moments to speak to you, I can make all of this make sense.”

Mindy raised her eyebrow again. She was half tempted to go back in and slam the door. She didn’t have to mention this to you but something told her not to.

“Okay, you have five minutes. Come in. It's too damn hot out here.”

Walking into the well-decorated townhome, Regulus looked around the living room before nervously sitting down. Mindy came into the room not taking her eyes off of him.

“Okay, start talking.”

Mindy said. Sirius stood up.

“Mindy, this whole situation obviously isn’t ideal. I know that you are probably protective over Y/n but you have to understand that my brother isn’t a bad guy. You see, before, Y/n he has never been interested in anyone. That is why he was a priest. He never meant to intentionally hurt Y/n. He didn’t know what to say and was acting on sheer…”

Mindy nodded.

“I see. That is what Y/n said too. Even though she was hurt, she wouldn’t say anything too bad about you, Regulus. You should know that Y/n is a nice girl. I mean a really nice girl. She doesn’t deserve any games. She may be a model and showgirl but that doesn’t make her any less deserving for proper love.”

Sirius cut back in.

“Please remember You’re talking to someone who until a few days ago never had any interest in anyone.”

Mindy fought back a smile.

“Okay, look, I have a fashion show later tonight. I’ll give you one shot. If you blow this, you won’t get a second chance.”

Regulus’ snapped his head up as Mindy handed him a ticket.

“Be there by seven and bring her flowers. Daisy’s are her favorite, just an FYI.”

Mindy gave Regulus a small smile that told him he hadn’t exactly blown it.

“I won’t mess up again.”

Mindy nodded.

“I hope not.”

To be continued…

___

@geeksareunique @jessyballet @knreidy1 @justfinishthis @fific7 @dumbbunnys-safes @siriuslyceleste @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @spideyxalmighty @lucasfilms77 @readtomeregulus @i-love-scott-mccall @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @iluvthe-marauders @woohoney @abaker74 @regulus-black-223048 @saramaple @missgorldafirst @f4iryluvy @s-we-e-t-t-ea @panpride @bennyberry @gugggu6gvai @jag9000 @quinis @haroldpotterson @mentally-unstable-hoe @daddyslittlevillain @goldensunshineshit @padf00ts-l0ver @un-lovesherself @marichromatic @melaninnbarbie @ravenhood2792 @playmore-zeppelin @rubyroscoe1 @authoressskr @brokencasbutt67-writer @moldy-old-boot @summer-novak @hankypranky @rogue-nyx88 @shaylybaby2032 @emiwrites3reads @authoressskr @brokencasbutt67-writer @summer-novak @shaylybaby2032

[bylerbigbang]

nosebleeds from epiphanies (i took full in the face)

Fic by @wheelersboy | Art by @boycattj and @starsarefire824

Teen | 15k words

“I think you’d make a good priest,” Mike says, after a moment. His face is serious, but there’s an almost joyful sincerity in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Will asks, flattered.

“Yeah. You know how people say they can see God in someone?” Mike asks, and Will nods. “I can see God in you.”

or

Hawkins, Montana, June 1988. When Lonnie Byers catches his youngest son in the arms of another boy, he calls in that favor owed to him by rancher Jim Hopper in Lenora: Will must work as an unpaid ranch hand and learn to "man up." Mike Wheeler follows him to the creepy ranch with electrical problems, like any best friend would.

Warnings: Period-Typical Homophobia, Blood and Gore

Read on Ao3 | View Art (1) (2)

Read an excerpt below:

“Why did you come?” Will repeats. “You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t ask you to come. You could have stayed in Hawkins.”

Mike furrows his brows and juts his chin forward. “I wasn’t going to just let you go by yourself. Who knows…what would happen?”

Will pauses. “...What would happen…if you were in Hawkins alone?”

Mike looks up at him. Looks him straight in the eyes. “No. What would happen to me if you were here alone.”

Will shakes his head. “You would be fine. You would’ve managed, like you always do.”

“So what are you saying, that I shouldn’t have come?”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.”

“Will…we can’t talk about that right now.”

“Well, when can we?”

“Will. Why?”

“Because I want to talk about it.” Will braces himself.

“Well, I should have said never. We can’t ever talk about this.” Mike scoots closer to Will. “This is one of those things, Will, that we’re not supposed to talk about.”

“Why, what’s going to happen?” Will challenges, suddenly feeling brave.

“We could—” Mike nearly shouts. He takes a breath, and then lowers his voice. “Someone could find out,” he says calmly. “People get beaten. People get sick, Will. They don’t…they’re not happy.”

“Mike, I can’t—some people can’t just…ignore it. I don’t think this is anything that will just go away. Pretending to be something else makes people unhappy, too.”

“Well, this sounds like a lose-lose situation. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” Mike says, resigned.

The wind howls through the valley, and Will clutches his hat to keep it from flying off.

“You don’t really think that, do you?” Will asks quietly. He doesn’t know what answer he’s hoping for.

Mike looks down at his hands, fidgets with his gloves. He swallows hard, clears his throat. “Father Frank said that if a man experiences any unholy…feelings…that he can’t suppress, then he should devote his life to God and join the priesthood.”

Will contemplates this response. “You really believe a man like that is…damned?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.” Mike removes his gloves and tosses them on the ground in front of him, hard.

Will watches Mike’s face as he blinks slowly, his mouth twisted in distress. He so badly wants to believe Mike is wrong, that there is a way they could be happy—whether that’s together or on their own. Deep down, they both know Father Frank is right. Damned to hell for following his heart. Condemned to a lonely life as a priest if he follows the Bible. He chuckles, in spite of himself.

“What?” Mike questions, clearly thrown off by Will’s reaction.

“Oh, nothing, it’s just—” Will laughs again. “I can’t imagine you being a priest.”

Mike raises his eyebrows. The corners of his mouth twitch. “That’d be terrible, I think.”

“Terrible for you? Or for the Church?”

Mike bites his lip. “Both,” he admits.

They share a laugh. It feels good.

“I think you’d make a good priest,” Mike says, after a moment. His face is serious, but there’s an almost joyful sincerity in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Will asks, flattered.

“Yeah. You know how people say they can see God in someone?”

Mike asks. Will nods. “I can see God in you.”

Read more on Ao3 >

[skywarpie]

Bad Dream

hey, remember this post? @skrimbe gave me an idea.

word count: 753

rating G

Summary: Copia regretting his plastic surgery decisions. 

It’s on quiet nights like this that Copia lets himself get too absorbed in his thoughts. Everyone in the church settled in for the night and his daughters tucked safely into bed with a good night kiss.

He knows he well past the opportunity to regret his decision. Was it his decision though? 

Copia tilts his head back and forth in front of the mirror to allow him to see a full view of his whole face. It had taken a while to get used to his new looks. Truth be told, he was still in the process of that, even a year later. 

He’s never considered himself good looking. Passable at best and even that’s a stretch. But he had been fond of his features. They were his. Sure his sharp nose was compared to that of a rat’s but that was fine. Copia likes rats.

Now as he stares at his own reflection, he sees none of that. The nose is too small. The jawline is not as sharp. His Cardinal painted over his eyes in a mockery of his former self. It’s a cruel joke. On more than one occasion he regrets letting the clergy talk him into this. But he really wasn’t talked as much as forced, was he?

“It’s important for the church members to see someone that resembles their previous Papas.” They had said. “It ensures less confusion. It’s for your benefit.”

The words still leave a bad taste in his mouth. It was clearly nothing more than an example of the power they held, something he was slowly beginning to realize.

Copia lets out a defeated sigh as he pulls himself away from the mirror. He finishes removing the remaining face paint, avoiding his reflection like the plague. He drags himself from the bathroom. He just needs a good night’s sleep. That fixed this issue before. 

It’s only when he’s sitting on the edge of his bed and sees the framed photo he has of his daughters on his nightstand that the dam breaks. They both look so much like him. Well, they used to look like him. The only feature the three of them have in common anymore is the white eye. A cruel reminder that they’ll have to live through this hell once they’re older too. It makes him feel sick.

Copia holds his head in his hands as he lets out a pathetic wail. Why couldn’t he have been more persistent in denying the clergy? Why did he have to be so weak that he was easily molded like clay in the hands of his holders.

“Papa?”

Copia panics. He wipes at his face frantically with the back of his hand and clears his voice in hopes of keeping the trembling out of it. ‘W-what are you doing up?” It doesn’t work and he settles for keeping his back to her. “You should be asleep.”

“Why are you sad?”

“I-I’m not.” He clears his throat another time as his voice cracks. “I’m just tired.” He can see her tiny figure from the corner of his eye and how she’s gotten closer. He’s a horrible liar, always has been. 

“Then why are you crying?” She pulls herself up on the bed beside him. Copia feels her sad gaze on him and it makes him feel even more worthless. How pathetic does someone have to be to have a six year old feel sorry for them?

“My allergies are a-acting up. That’s all.” Copia knows he should scoop her up and carry her back to the room that adjoins his, but he doesn’t think he can do that without giving her a full blown look at his tear stained face. Something about letting her know just what he’s upset about makes him feel stupid. What kind of grown man cries because he and his kids don’t look alike?

“Did you have a bad dream?” And she’s just going to keep asking, isn’t she. 

“I guess you could call it that.” Only he’s not waking up anytime soon from this one. 

Copia feels her tiny hand pat his forearm and it’s only now that he realizes she’s holding the stuffed goat that he brought back from a ritual for her. 

“This always helps me when I have bad dreams.” Athalaiah places the stuffed animal on his lap. “Maybe he’ll help you too.” She wraps her small arms around his and rests her cheek against his shoulder.

Copia hiccups louder than he’d like. “Yea, maybe he will.”

[lulu2992]

I’ve previously talked about the moment John nods and smiles at the Deputy in the church during The Atonement but, honestly, I think this entire scene is awesome. So many things are happening, there are a lot of details to notice, and the actors and animators really did a great job.

So here’s a breakdown of the cutscene and a highlight of my favorite moments (under a cut because there are 25 GIFs).

1. First, there’s John’s genuinely surprised reaction to the Deputy grabbing his arm. He quickly regains his composure, but he really jumps when the Deputy moves.

2. Then, there’s his joy when he’s done tattooing the Deputy. You can see how proud and happy he is to do something he believes is right and helpful.

3. Look at how theatrically and confidently John, who knows he’s in control of the situation and in a position of strength, turns around. He’s done talking to the Deputy personally and he’s now giving a performance. In contrast, in the background, Mary May and Nick’s fists are clenched; they’re clearly tense and angry. I also like how good the cultist on the right is at handing the book to John, who barely needs to stop when he takes it as if everything is precisely choreographed.

4. Jerome’s defiance vs John’s impatience.

5. John is so dramatically annoyed.

6. When Jerome falls, Nick and Mary May try to help and catch him. Unfortunately, a cultist is holding Nick’s left arm, so he can’t do much.

7. It seems John has so much faith in his followers’ ability to protect him that he’s totally unimpressed by Mary May’s attempt at attacking him.

8. And that’s when Jerome switches the books.

9. John laughs… but he’s clearly not amused.

10. I love that he breathes a sigh of relief when Jerome finally cooperates.

11. The reactions to Nick’s “Fuck this”. Jerome’s face is saying, “Oh no, you shouldn’t have done this”, the cultist holding him at gunpoint didn’t expect that, and John just keeps unblinkingly looking at Nick…

12. …until he snaps. At this point, the two men are ready to come to blows. Thankfully, another cultist arrives to hold Nick back while the one in the background looks a bit unsettled. John, his fists tightly clenched, manages to calm down quite quickly. He’s still angry, but at least he doesn’t look like he wants to punch Nick anymore.

13. The way John talks with his hands.

14. Nick has just spit in his face and John is now visibly upset. He’s planning his revenge, and Jerome knows something bad is about to happen.

15. When John is done whispering in Nick’s ear, the cultist behind him holsters her gun. She is close enough to have heard what John said and she seems confident that Nick is going to stop resisting.

16. She even nods. Meanwhile, Nick is distressed and looks at his friends. To me, his eyes are saying, “Guys, I’m so sorry… I don’t want to do this, and please don’t judge me, but I have no choice.”

17. I like how John and the cultist who gives him the scalpel don’t even need to look at each other. How many times have they done this? You can also see Jerome is starting to panic as he understands what’s next. The other cultist might be smiling, I’m not sure… If she is, it’s probably because she’s happy Nick has finally “seen the light”.

18. As soon as John is done cutting out Nick’s tattoo, one of the cultists bandages his wound.

19. Again, we can see how well-organized the ceremony is and how efficient John’s “assistants” are. When he needs the stapler, it’s here for him to grab. When he’s done using it, the cultist is there to take it from him. Again, he barely looks at her; he trusts all of them.

20. Meanwhile, Jerome is in shock.

21. Judging by the cultist and John’s reaction, making someone Atone is pretty intense. They look exhausted, and also exalted because they see this as a holy thing.

22. While John is busy washing his hands, Jerome discreetly taps his Bible to remind the Deputy that a gun is hidden inside.

23. The intensity of John’s stare.

24. He totally agrees with Mary May when she tells the Deputy to “just say yes”.

25. And of course, I had to include the face John makes when he believes the Deputy is finally about to give him what he expects.

This cutscene is intense and sometimes hard to watch, but I think it’s also one of the best in the game. I love it.

[causticjuice]

Kinktober Day 13 — Menophilia

Secondo x AFAB!reader

Notes: This was actually my first fic idea ever and I wrote most of it a while ago. I'm not that happy with it, because I think I actually made quite a bit of progress in terms of my writing ability. But if it’s just sitting there, I might as well post it. 

Tags: SMUT (MDNI, 18+), menophilia (menstruation kink), cunnilingus, vaginal fingering

Word count: 1k

ao3

Your periods have been a mixed bag all your life. Sometimes pretty painful and generally inconvenient. Depending on your emotional state, though, they can get pretty bothersome. Ever since a particular event in your relationship, however, sometimes you could almost say you look forward to your period.

One night, you were feeling particularly annoyed at having to deal with this nuisance. You were lying on Secondo’s bed, listening to him complain about some sibling, clergy member or ghoul, you couldn’t even remember. Clearly, your lack of engagement in the conversation was obvious.

“And then he had the gall to- Are you even listening to me?” He asked, looking up at you with a lowered head.

“Sorry… could you repeat that?” You replied while furrowing your eyebrows and rubbing your forehead. You tried your best to give him a sincere smile, but all you could manage looked halfhearted and pained.

“Amore, is everything okay?” He sat down on other side of the bed, his torso turned toward you.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“Don’t brush me off, per favore. I can see something’s wrong, I am no fool.”

“It’s really nothing. It’s just… I’m on my period.”

“Hm, I see. And if I may ask, what about it upsets you, tesoro?” He got his legs up on the bed and leaned closer to you.

“Well it's just… I don't feel great. And I have been stressed about my duties here lately, so it’s worse than usual.”

“Ah, I understand. I can tell this is a… complex issue. Still, may I share my perspective?” He gently placed a hand on your knee that was closest to him, where your leg was bent.

“Sure,” you placed your palm over his.

“You are a warrior. You fight every day to be who you are. And the blood you shed is that of battle.”

“Yeah, I like that. Keep going.”

He shifted closer to you.

“Isn’t blood something we celebrate here in the church? Something so visceral, so raw. Grotesquely beautiful. It shows you’re alive. And it’s delicious,” he drew out the last word and the intensity in his eyes seemed almost threatening.

You exhaled loudly in amusement but he stayed unmoving.

“Do you mean…?”

“Sì. I would like to taste you. If you are comfortable.”

The sudden turn of the conversation left you reeling but very aroused at the thought of his face covered in your blood.

“Yes- fuck. Please.”

He slid his hand from your knee to the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down together with your underwear. You were glad you decided to use only a pad that day.

“Will you get a towel?”

“No need. I won’t waste a drop.”

He was eager now, looking almost feral. He spread your legs and leaned down to inhale deeply through his nose. He let the breath out with a hum, closing his eyes. All of a sudden, he started unbuttoning his shirt, as if he just remembered that it was still on him. You could only stare, captivated as he discarded it on the floor.

Now only wearing his slacks, he lied down on his stomach below you. His hands began wandering over your thighs, up and down, back to your ass, thumbs almost reaching your crotch, but not quite. Until one of them did, sliding from the bottom of your opening to your clit, making you gasp. Then he spread you with both thumbs, captivated by your body.

He couldn’t hold back anymore, lunged at your cunt with a growl and latched onto it with his mouth. His tongue started lapping at you immediately, and once he got all he could on the outside, curling inside of you. It moved up to swirl around your clit, his mouth already smeared with blood and eyes looking unhinged and locked on yours. The sudden stimulation was overwhelming but his enthusiasm was intoxicating. It felt like he wanted to eat you alive.

He was sliding a finger inside you while his tongue was still working your clit. As he began to curl and pump it, you knew it was for your pleasure but also his own, to stir the blood within you. Then he pulled the finger out, held it towards you and you opened your mouth eagerly, latching around it and sucking. The coppery, bitter and salty taste lingered on your tongue as you wondered how it tasted to him.

He put his lips back on your entrance to get what he had agitated with his hand. He was eating you out like a starving lunatic and yet it felt so incredibly good, like he was executing a deliberate and well developed technique. With his tongue deep inside you, his hooked nose was grazing your clit, so you pushed his head down. You couldn’t help thrusting to grind yourself on his face, but his hands grabbed your hips and shoved you back down.

He pulled off of you and looked into your eyes, looking like a wild animal. Your blood was smeared on the entire lower half of his face and his lips were pulled into a snarl. He once again lowered his hand between your legs and shoved two fingers inside without warning. You gasped and threw your head back in surprise. When you adjusted enough to be able to open your eyes, you saw his gaze still locked on you and tongue snaking down to flick your clit.

With his fingers pounding you and his tongue moving so fast it looked like a blur, you were rapidly approaching your climax. You were whimpering and writhing under him, losing your mind from the stimulation.

“Ohh, f- Yes! Papa!” you screamed as you came while gripping the sheets at either side of you.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled his fingers out of you and licked all remaining blood off of them. He dipped his head down to lick a long broad stroke over your slit one final time, which made you shiver.

“Thank you,” you breathed, watching him sit up.

“It was my pleasure. Do you feel better?"

"Yes, I do. Much better."

"I am glad to help. Now and in the future."

He was able to help many more times after that night.