#i do still like writing so nothing much is really stopping me

[insomniadreamzz]

Hey, how are you? I wanted to request G!P Jinx x Reader. Imagine that the reader is Jinx's girlfriend and they have unprotected sex and then Jinx gets the reader pregnant? Something like the reader being afraid to tell Jinx and she freaks out about it and stuff like that… Could there also be smut at the end and fluff too? Please, I've never seen that around here 😮‍💨

Helloo! Thank you I am perfectly fine. Today is my birthday and I am actually busy but I LOVE this request so I had to write it down today 👀

———

My everything

G!P Jinx x Fem!Reader

Smut, mentions of pregnancy, fluff

The last days you felt kinda off, your emotions were like a rollercoaster and you got more sensitive. Jinx realised this too, making her feel a little worried about you. Since she had mental issues herself, she always questioned if she did something wrong, making the situation between you both get a little more complicated.

„Is everything okay my love? It’s your third plate of food today. I don’t mind it at all but…I am worried if something is bothering you. You know you can tell me anything right? You do trust me do you?“ Jinx asked as you were about to finish your food, your gaze moving up to look at her, a little smile on your face. „Of course I do trust you. You are my girlfriend after all. I just feel more hungry than usual these days, nothing to worry about.“ You tried to reassure her but she felt something was still off.

The next days your behavior went on, you also felt nauseous out of nowhere which made you realise that you might be pregnant. Last time you and Jinx got intimate you didn’t use protection which was a little silly of both of you but to be honest you didn’t really realise she would get you pregnant that fast. Whatever…if it was true and you carried her child, how to tell her? You suddenly worried about her reaction, close to panic but before your mind will make you freak out you decided to make a test first and then you will have to figure something out.

Thankfully Jinx wasn’t in her hideout today, she went out to probably blow something up again. You always had to worry about her when she wasn’t around but right now you were glad she wasn’t home so you could do the test without her knowing and just how you thought, it was positive. „Fuck…“ You cursed under your breath, feeling a little overwhelmed. Of course you were happy since having a family with your girlfriend was your biggest dream. But so sudden? It just made you think about a lot of stuff like are you even ready for it? Is Jinx ready for it? Will she be happy? Or will she be upset? You didn’t know since you never talked about that topic before.

One thing was clear. You had to tell her. Jinx already blamed herself for not treating you right anymore to explain your behavior. You noticed her anxiety getting worse these days but now you had a valid explanation for your latest behavior. Maybe that would calm her down and stop blaming herself?

There was not much time of thinking about how to explain to Jinx as you heard her walking into the hideout, a happy smile on her face as she catched your sight, you quickly hiding the test behind your back, wishing you already removed it and didn’t stare at it all the time while having a little discussion with your own mind about the result. „Hey toots!!“ She said with her usual wuirky behaviour you loved so much but she did notice you hid something behind your back. „What ya hiding there?“ She asked and you began to blush deeply, not being able to find the right words or to speak at all. „I-…“ You started but she cut you off by snatching it out of your hand. Why did you hide it anyways? You knew Jinx was too fast for you to even react when she tried to get it out your hands.

Her eyes widened when she saw what you were hiding, not knowing how to react. You bit down on your own lower lip, feeling nervous, scared she would be upset. „You are…“ She started, looking into your eyes with a soft gaze, you only nod in response which was enough for the blue haired girl to freak out but in a positive way. „Oh my god! My girl is pregnant!“ She squealed, being all jumpy and giggly, talking to herself about all the things she wants to do and build as she paced around the hideout before she stopped right in front of you, placing a lot of soft kisses on your lips. „I love you so much!“ She said in between the kisses before pulling back to look into your eyes again, you felt so relieved. „Jinx…are you happy?“ You asked just in case as if her reaction wasn’t enough. „Are you kidding me?! I am! I am the happiest my love!“ She reassured you, taking your hands in hers as she gently rubbed them with her thumbs. „I-I know I am chaotic and I know the things I do are weird and dangerous, making me question if I can do this right but…but I want it! I wanna take care of you both and make sure you will always feel loved.“

Her words made you feel so soft. You didn’t expect her to be this passionate about that topic but you loved it. You loved her. Her eyes got a little watery, the more she realised it, the more emotional she got. „I-I thought I did something wrong. I thought you stopped loving me but…but the real reason you behaved like this…it’s such a beautiful reason.“ Jinx voice was very soft and a little shaky as she let tears of happiness run down her cheeks and so did you. You couldn’t hold back your own emotions anymore as well, feeling so happy as well that she wasn’t upset about it. „I could never stop loving you…how could you even think that?“ You asked but in return she just kissed you again, this time more deeper and passionately as she made you lay down on your back. Right now she just wanted to feel you and give you her love, her tongue moving inside your mouth, making you gasp softly in return.

Both of you felt aroused by the deep kissing, your hormones being all over the place made you feel hornier than usual so it was obvious you wanted her and you showed it as your hands gently pulled on her pants, making her smirk into the kiss. „Heh…you want me don’t you?“ She hummed and you nodded. „Yes…yes please I need you.“ You almost beg for her to fuck you and of course she won’t deny you.

It didn’t took you long to be all over each other again, her marking your body with kisses and little gentle bites while her cock moved inside of you, her pace being slower than usual, making you chuckle a little. She must do that on purpose which was cute. „Hnn…you know you can go faster do you?“ She looked down at you with a soft gaze, you knew she didn’t want to do anything wrong but you reassured her. Jinx behavior was just so sweet. „Ah…yes I know of course.“ She said but you knew she was being careful now because she knew you were pregnant. After your reassurance she thrusted faster inside of you as she held your hips gently, going deeper as usual, losing herself into the pleasure just like you. Both of you being a moaning mess. „Fuck…I am close…“ She moaned out and you kept her close to you by wrapping your legs around her waist, making sure she won’t pull out. „M-me too…cum inside me please.“ You whined, her hips didn’t stop moving, moaning out loudly when she came and at the same time you reached your orgasm as well, feeling her fill you up with her cum, making both of you feel so good.

Both of you panted softly, her leaning down to kiss you again so lovingly. „You make me the happiest…“ She whispered. „And you make me the happiest.“ You answered with a soft smile, caressing her cheek as you both looked into each others eyes with so much love.

(Fluff bonus)

„Hey that tickles!“ You giggle softly as Jinx painted little hearts and other little cute stuff on your baby bump. „What? You’re my beautiful canvas.“ She teased by sticking her tongue out, a giggle leaving her own lips. She just loved doing these sweet little things with you.

„Who knows maybe our little one will be as creative as you?“ You mentioned, making Jinx smile more. „Maybe who knows?“ She answered before leaning down to place a kiss on your tummy and then nuzzling close to it. „I love both of you so so much you don’t even know…“ Her words so soft, almost like a whisper as she stayed close to you. „And we love you. Always and forever.“ You gently caressed her beautiful blue hair, making her smile as she closed her eyes and eventually feeling your little one kicking for the first time.

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (2)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: After the events of PART ONE, Robin goes shoe shopping; Steve's mental health is in shambles; Nancy is trying to save her relationship; you're feeling lost; and Eddie is trying to be the bigger person.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; drinking; Robin literally just trying to live her life but her friends are all idiots

A/N: Thank you all so so much for all the love you have been showing to part one. You all had me so motivated to write this next part for you. I never manage to get things written this quickly, it's insane. So much appreciation to you all who took the time to read and let me know how you liked it- the comments and reblogs mean so much to me! Thank you!

Please let know who you think our girl should end up with ;)

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

You didn’t ever think about a future in which you didn’t feel the way you felt about Steve. It was something that you always viewed as this absolute truth. It was unavoidable. The sun would rise and fall and you would love Steve Harrington. But now, the world feels like it’s crashed, burned and raised from the ashes. A new reality- a new future to be written. Maybe, just maybe, you would see a future for yourself without Steve. It was such a simple thought- but you couldn’t have seen it before.

While you’re coming to terms with your new reality that Eddie tore open with both hands, Steve feels the weight of the crash all around him. It’s everywhere, more specifically, you’re everywhere. He felt like he’s lost everything. In her reconciliation with Jonathan, Nancy pulled Steve aside that night and said she thought it best if they don’t hang out for awhile. He nodded, jaw tightened, but he understood. 

Eddie isn’t not talking to him, but there’s awkward tension in the apartment. They both pretend that it isn’t there but the air is thick with it. The proverbial beans have been spillt. Eddie’s in love with you, and Steve shouldn’t care about it as much as he does. Eddie goes about his days padding around the house. He’ll strum guitar and clean the kitchen and go on like nothing happened. Steve’s been avoiding him, not knowing at all what to say. There isn’t anything to say- not really. But still, the walls between them are undeniably there. 

Robin is all Steve has to confide in right now, telling her all about how he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past few weeks since the night of what they’ve been calling “the incident.” He tells her everything- his confusion in his feelings towards you, the way he misses his friendship with Nancy, his irrational harbouring resentment toward Eddie. He tells her all of it. She listens and doesn’t judge- well, maybe she does judge. But, it’s coming from a place of love! 

“What do you think?” she asks, stomping around in circles. She looks down at the new Adidas on her feet, thinking about how dirty the white sneakers are going to get almost immediately. Steve is sitting on the little bench in the shoe store with his head in his hands. “I hate them,” she complains, “I hate new shoes. I hate buying jeans. It all sucks.”

Like a parent would, Steve leans down and presses his fingertips down on the toe of the shoe. “These are too small,” he points out. He turns to the box at his side, handing her the next size up. “These will probably feel better.” She snatches the show from his hand, kicking off the pair she’s wearing. 

“Fucking Munson,” she scoffs. “New fucking shoes,” she mutters, bending over to slide the next pair on. Steve smirks to himself when he sees the relief wash over Robin’s face. It’s the undeniable look of pure comfort. “Oh,” she says shyly, “these feel really nice.” 

“What am I gonna do?” he asks, disheartened looking up at Robin. She sighs, pushing the empty box next to him on the floor so she can take its place. 

“What do you want?” she asks, “Do you actually like her?”

“I might,” he admits, “I don’t know! I haven’t thought about her that way before. I could see it, maybe.”

“I don’t think you should do anything,” Robin advises, “Just sort out all the shit in your head. You are only just beginning to let yourself get over Nancy- jumping into a mess between your best friends is not the thing to do right now. Sort yourself out- get some Vitamin D, eat a vegetable- do something besides sit in your room and sulk.” 

“I’m here now,” he tries to argue and Robin scoffs. 

“You’re here cause you ran out of excuses when you kept cancelling on me,” Robin points out. She looks at her feet one more time. She then looks to Steve with a look of absolute utter defeat. “I think I’m gonna get these.” She gets up and kicks them off. Steve watches as she puts them back in the box. “I’m not gonna wear them around Eddie though,” she says with a scoff, heading towards the register like she got the one up on him. 

Eddie remembers the first time he saw you. He’d been reflecting back on it a lot the past few weeks after everything that has happened. He’s having trouble wrapping his head around how he got from there to here. What was a innocent high school crush has blossomed into such an intense love that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The feeling is almost too big for him to carry- which is probably the reason for his outburst that night. 

It has been Eddie’s junior year, making it your sophomore year. You’d been in the drama club and occasionally rehearsal would run late- meaning Hellfire would start late since they used the Theater room as well. Usually, Drama Club rehearsed Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday- making the room available for Hellfire on Friday. However, as productions got closer to the opening night, theater kids and band geeks would end up flocking to the room for Hell Week- extra rehearsals, last minute set adjustments, all running out the clock to the big night. It would run into Fridays, pushing Hellfire back despite Eddie reserving the room. The one thing he actually did to follow the rules. 

You felt ridiculous in your costume. Your Juliet dress had you sticking out when you weren’t in the midst of the sets and reciting your lines. The long fabrics of the Renaissance inspired costume followed behind you as you darted from one side of the school to the other. You needed last minute fixes to the hem of your dress and the veil of your head crown. You only a few minutes before you were expected at rehearsal, left with no choice to run from the home ec classroom to the theater. 

Eddie and the rest of Hellfire stood begrudgingly behind the stage, too stubborn to find another location for their meeting. He swears that you ran by him in slow motion to make your cue. Like a runaway bride from his fantasy novels, it was like you were plucked from one of his fantasies and graced his world with your presence. He was enamored. You looked exactly like a princess. He didn’t realize he’d been staring until Gareth had elbowed him to snap him out of it. He knew from that moment when he looks back, he was in love with you. He rubbed his ribs where he was struck and stayed hidden backstage to watch the whole performance. 

Steve can’t even remember the first time you met. You were something that was always there, and something he’s realized now that he’s taken for granted. You remember, you remember it all. It was still so vivid to you. It was a start to your everything. 

Kindergarten was an overwhelming experience for Steve. Specifically drop-off, but he doesn’t remember now. You remember waiting with your mom and you held her hand tightly, while you waited for your teacher to escort you and your new classmates into school. You noticed Steve, across the play yard, but your head tilted in confusion that he was without a grown-up to send him off. 

You immediately shook yourself free from your moms embrace and skipped confidently over to the little boy. 

“Do you wanna be best friends?” You asked abruptly, it was all you needed. The simplicity of making friends when your six is a beautiful thing. He nodded, and you took his hand in yours so he didn’t walk in alone. The two of you were inseparable ever since. Until high school rolled around and changed everything. 

The Steve you knew was different than the Steve that ruled the halls of Hawkins High back in the day. When it was the two of you, it was like how it always was. But at school, it was like he was an entirely new person. Reinvented and repackaged, King Steve’s reign was legend. Had it not killed you a little inside, you’d have been impressed. 

Nancy offered to get lunch together with you shortly after the incident. She valued your friendship and wanted to clear the air. You felt the same. Your feelings towards Steve never hindered how highly you thought of Nancy. The two of you became friends amidst the era of King Steve, shortly before they began dating. 

“I wanted you to know that had I known,” Nancy says, stirring the milk in her coffee, “I would have never went out with Steve.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty, Nance,” you reassure her. “You liked him and he liked you back, of course you guys should have dated. I don’t resent that- I just… I don’t know.” 

“I don’t want this to affect us,” she reiterates.

“It won’t, it hasn’t- honestly,” you reply sincerely. “I never hated you. I can’t lie and say I wasn’t very jealous- because I was, still am a little maybe. It wasn’t because of you- it was just because it wasn’t me.” 

“I understand,” she comforts you. You both share a smile and you appreciate her for coordinating this sit down. It felt good to confide in her. It was something you shouldn’t have bottled up and dealt with alone. Talking with Nancy felt like taking breaths of fresh air. 

You’d walked home after lunch, declining Nancy’s offer for a ride. The cafe was close enough to your and Robin’s apartment that you could manage without getting too cold. Trudging up the front steps, you had your hood up to keep yourself warmer. It also hindered your vision so you didn’t see the figure on the front porch swing until you were right at your front door. 

“Steve?” You ask, taken aback. You didn’t expect to see him- though you supposed he’d be wanting to talk about it all eventually. You sigh, bracing yourself for the one conversation you absolutely did not want to have. 

“Hey,” he shivers, keeping his hands bunched into his jacket plackets. 

“Come on up,” you offer, unlocking your front door. He graciously accepts, darting in out of the cold as fast as possible. He had to have been waiting awhile. “Robin is at work right now, but you can wait for her,” you say, as you both make it to the top of the stairs to your third floor apartment. 

“I came to see you, actually,” he admits. 

“I was afraid of that,” you joke, and it makes you a little happy when he chuckles. You both know how hard this conversation is going to be. 

You both shrug off your warm layers and leave them in the entry way. You kick off your boots and shove your hat and gloves into the sleeve of your jacket. You try your best to tame your hair. You walk with your arms crossed and take a seat on your couch. Steve tentatively follows and sits on the opposite end. You both sit in uncomfortable silence for what felt like ages. 

“How long?” He finally asks, and you can’t help but cringe. It felt so impersonal, and like a subtle attack. Like you were in the wrong for keeping something from him. He sounds hurt. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, your face in your hands. “Probably at least since we were in like second grade, maybe.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he questions, and you feel dejected. 

“I don’t know- maybe cause you dated someone new constantly,” you accuse, flipping it back to him. You weren’t going to take the blame for this. “When we got to high school, you pursued so many girls- you were on a date every weekend! When did you expect me to say when you showed interest in literally everyone but me? Do you expect me to say I should’ve said something when you were with Nancy?” 

“No… shit, I don’t know,” he mumbles. He had no right to be upset, you resolved. “I just, I feel bad that you didn’t think you could tell me.” 

“I couldn’t risk losing you,” you admitted. “I’d much rather be heartbroken with you in my life than heartbroken without you.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and he’s not sure why he’s suddenly so quiet. “I just- fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

You both sit there, quietly, looking anywhere except each other. You bite the inside of your mouth nervously, you don’t know what to say. You notice he’s not saying I was so stupid. I love you, I always have. You’ve learned the hard way by now to not expect that from him. You can’t let your expectations of him dictate the future of your friendship. 

“It’s okay, you know,” you finally say across the silence. “I don’t want you to think this changes anything.” 

This changes everything! He wants to exclaim. You’re right there, closer than you’ve been in weeks. Yet you still feel so far away, so unattainable. He feels as though you’re treating him like a stranger, and he hates feeling like this. 

“I’m not in love with Nancy,” he confesses. “I thought it was what I wanted, but now I don’t know what I want.” 

“Don’t give me false hope to make me feel better, Steve,” you sigh. “That’s not fair.” 

Robin bursts through the door in a whirlwind of chaos. She’s shedding her layers as she recounts a terrible interaction she had with a customer at work. She kicks off her Adidas, not bothering to put them in the shoe rack and she lets her jacket lay on the floor for now. 

“Anyways, this guy starts yelling at me because he didn’t like Risky Business like I wrote and starred in the damn thing so I’m like ‘Sir, I didn’t make the movie’  and then he gets he gets even more pissed that won’t give him a free rental. I can’t do that! What makes him think I can just wave a magic wand a pull a perk like that out of my- oh fuck. H-hey Steve…. I didn’t know you were here.” 

He stands up abruptly, “I was just leaving.” Before either you or Robin have a chance to say anything else. He’s stumbling over putting on his shoes and falling into his jacket on the his way quickly out the door. 

“What the hell was that?” Robin asks, turning to you. 

“I have no idea.” You say earnestly. 

“He’s so fucking stupid I swear to god,” she rolls her eyes and heads past you into the kitchen. She decided to keep her commentary at that. You escape to your room so you can process what the hell just happened. 

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Steve hits his palms against his steering wheel in frustration. “SHIT!” 

He completely fucked that up. 

When you had a problem of this measure that bothered you, you’d call Steve. Or, you’d call Eddie. Neither option is one you felt was viable right now. You didn’t want to annoy Robin with it anymore than you’d had already- you’re sure she’s sick of everyone going to her. You have a bad habit of assuming you’re a burden when your anxiety spikes like this. 

“Hey, Nance. I, uh, was just calling to-“

“Steve, please- we talked about this.” 

He knew this was going to happen. But he couldn’t stop himself as he dialed her number. He knew he was supposed to stay away and give her and Jonathan space. How is he supposed to move on when he lost the one person he could call to talk about this? Steve felt Nancy understood him better than anyone- or at least at one point she did. 

She hangs up before Steve gets a chance to say anything. He drops the receiver back onto the base. He lays back on the couch and takes some slow breaths. He can’t imagine that you all ended up here. After everything you all survived, this is what’s pulling you all apart. 

Why the fuck did he call Nancy? Deep down he knows he wants to just talk to you but he just can’t right now. His brain is too congested with everything that’s come to light and it’s all such a scary, unfamiliar plane. Nancy is his familiar- it’s what he knows. He’s realizing maybe he didn’t actually pine for Nancy but instead he was yearning for that stability he once felt. He’s mourning the time for when it felt like he had absolutely everything. 

It hits him all at once- like a huge wave that knocks you out when you’re bracing yourself to jump. He wanted it all back- fucking King Steve. Not the parties and the fucking assholes. He wanted to feel that way again. He wanted how he felt when he had a girlfriend who loved him and close friends he could walk the halls with. He missed when his life felt easy and he missed how easy it feels now compared to this. He wanted his life back- it wasn’t Nancy that he wanted- not really. He wanted to feel that way again and he was mourning his youth despite the imperfections. 

He thought of you again, as he turned his body to stare at the phone. He knows he should call, and do his best to make you feel better. He needed you to understand that he understands so much more now than he did. The bigger picture is revealing itself more to him and he actually fucking gets it. Out of everything that has changed, you never did. It all feels so painfully obvious now. How could he have not seen it? 

“Sup, man,” Eddie says casually, coming home from work. Taking off his jacket reveals that his coveralls are covered in a huge grease stain. Kicking off his work boots, he doesn’t wait for Steve to reply as he heads to the bathroom to shower. “You wanna get Chinese tonight?” he calls from the other room. Steve gulps and sits up, trying to shake himself out of it. 

“Uh, yeah, sure.”  

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from the bathroom and steam from his shower wafts out into the hallway. 

“We’re good, right?” Eddie asks. He wants to say yes. Eddie did nothing wrong and Steve deep down knows it. He knows his resentment he’s harbouring is completely unfair- but it is running down to his core. 

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Steve says, trying his best to fake it. They aren’t good. Steve doesn’t know if they’d ever be good. Eddie knows it too. He knows Steve too well to know that he isn’t actually good. Eddie doesn’t fight it.

“I’ll get over it,” Eddie said. “Well, that’s a fucking lie. But, I can tell myself I can get over it.” Steve looks at him, confused. “If you and her want to be together, if you like her back- I’ll step down.”

“Why are you even saying that?”

“Because I want her to be happy more than anything else, and if I’m not that guy- I’m just getting in the way of that,” he confesses, and Steve can hear the hurt in his friend’s voice. “If you actually want to go for it- I’m not what’s stopping you, man.” 

The phone breaks through the solemn moment the two of them share. Eddie looks to Steve and Steve shrugs before picking up the receiver. 

“Hello?” He says, and he smiles to himself as he recognizes the voice on the other end. Then, Eddie watches as his friend’s face falls again- all in a brief few seconds. “It’s for you,” he says, dropping the receiver on the table for Eddie to get. Steve disappears down the hall and seeks refuge in his room.

“Hey,” Eddie says, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, it’s me,” he hears you say. Suddenly, Steve’s reaction makes a lot of sense. 

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt

[vicsstufff]

PROLOGUE — no exceptions.

warnings: when the characters talk in any other language, you would know when the words are like this: “hello! who are you doing?”, language, smoking, camila’s dad is kinda abusive.

paring: hopkings!p.bueckers x exchange student!oc

BTS masterlist

authors note: hello everyone! this is the prologue of my first series “Behind The Screen” i’m so excited to write this and i’m constantly reading fics to motivate me and learn more. i didn’t plan that much of angst for this series but i will definitely add more than planned.

the harsh crash of the waves, the pure smell of the ocean mixed with the food from the near restaurants was addictive. this was the life that camila had her entire life, she wouldn’t give it up from nothing. “are you still going to your last year of high school?” miranda, her friend questioned her not taking her eyes of the little waves that made their way to their feet, cleaning the sand that piled up during their walk. “of course i am. where else would i go?” camila assured her, a comforting smile creeping its way in her face, miranda took her eyes of her feet and stared at the distance. “are you that sure? i heard your parents talking to the principal.” miranda took a shaky breath before continuing “they are sending you away, camila.” the smile that build up its way to camilas face quickly disappeared once miranda did her confession.

camila grabbed her dirty sandals and started sprinting towards her house. the streets were busy, summer was right around the corner and that meant one thing, tourists, camila wasn’t bother by the tourists, she actually liked them, she helps the ones that look lost or the ones that are one foot away from completely passing out because of the penetrating sun. thanks to an old lady, she even learned to speak english and a little bit of spanish too, making it more easy to speak with other tourist.

she unlocked the main door to her house, getting inside quickly, mumbling could be heard from her parents room, not to far from her own room. silently, she walked to her parents room, pressing her ear to the locked door to hear properly.

“why would we send her away!?” her mom shouted, she could hear the way that she was breaking everything that was in her eyesight “come on, woman, she doesn’t needs us anymore and we don’t need her anymore! she is almost a grown adult! she will be okay!” her father remarked her age again, she didn’t know what was wrong with her father and him being obsessed with young woman, before her 17 birthday, camila’s father was a perfect father, he bought her gifts, clothes, hair products, shoes anything you could imagine, but when her 17 birthday rolled over, he stopped being sweet to her, he didn’t care for her anymore, instead, he started focusing on her little sister, helena who was barely 15, the exact same thing happened to her mother, she know all the atrocities her father did to her.

“minnesota? really carlos? that shit is so far away!” her mother argued, minnesota? definitely it was not even near brazil or even located in brazil, maybe it was a city or a very small country? “she will be fine! she is even going to have another family” her father added, she couldn’t bring herself together and hear more than she needed to, her eyes locked with her bedroom door, she didn’t bring her phone to the beach so she would have a thousand of messages if anybody knew she was going to be exchanged.

cam

they r sending me away

p

what??

were??

cam

some place called minnesota

p

dude, omg

that’s were i live

no way

cam

seriously??

ur telling me that it’s in the usa??

p

yeahhhh

omg

please tell me ur coming to hopkins

we could finally meet

before camila could respond to her friend, her father entered her room abruptly, not even caring to knock. “hey, um, we need to talk.” her father mumbled, he was clearly nervous, but he wasn’t nervous when he was arguing with her mother. “i’m sorry, baby, you are going to study in another place.” her mother interrupted her father and hugged her tightly, her worst fears were begging to become true. she didn’t wanted to be separated from her family, neither her friends. “stop babying her!” her father barked, grabbing his wife shoulder and lunched her making her land in the middle of camila’s room. “look, you are very good academically and they offered us to exchange you for another student. it’s only going to be one year.” her father explained but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her broken mother, her own father had destroyed her mother, he had successfully sent her away to an unknown place she obviously didn’t know, who is going to take care of helena? her mother couldn’t possibly, she was very bad emotionally, and her father didn’t believe in therapist.

camila could sense her sisters presence in the room, she looked at her doorframe, helena was there, in shock, she had seen and heard everything. her bottom lip was shaky and she gripped the doorknob tightly.

the plane she was going to take was leaving until july, even though school started in august, she knew it was her fathers plan to get rid of her faster. for the past days she couldn’t stop texting ‘p’ the unknown girl made her feel safe, every text was filled with comforting words, it made her a little exited to visit a new place but she didn’t want to admit it.

her father made her do a face time with her host family, they were very sweet, so caring, they even had a beautiful schnauzer dog, she was called monica. her prayers were heard, she was going to hopkins, minnesota, ‘p’ started talking about herself more, she had figured out that she was in the women’s basketball team, she had blonde hair and blue eyes, and couldn’t stop saying that she was definitely taller than camila.

the nights were shorter when talking to ‘p’, their conversations never ending, ‘p’ would text her even if she was in class, or in practice, it made camila’s stomach flutter, knowing that someone took their to time to talk to her, even if they were busy. she was very excited to meet ‘p’ friends too, almost all of them were from the basketball team. p started planning dates hangouts, going for a milkshake, ice cream, eating pure junk food, going to see her play, watching the stars, you named it. camila was so excited to met her, but also nervous, what if she doesn’t meet her standards? what if she expects camila to be more beautiful? camila shook those thoughts away quickly, texting p to assure her that everything will be fine.

cam

what do u think i look like

p

i have been waiting for this

curly hair (obv), little bit tanned, maybe green eyes? definitely smaller than me, freckles and a natural blush

cam

wtf

how do u how i look like

p

u r definitely fine then

camila didn’t want to admit it, but she was definitely falling for this called ‘p’.

[dirtylittlesecre7]

Oh my gosh— someone who writes for nam-gyu? Am I dreaming?! I CANNOT find any fics of him!! Need headcannons about him rn😩 I feel like that man would enjoy making you cry and upset, like he would grin and laugh while doing so. (Cough— Hatefuck—cough..) Just need headcannons about that man so bad😩🫣

This is actually my first time asking, so I really don't know what to say🥲 but I hope you consider this🫶🫶🫶

-🌟anon

warning | nsfw content

word count | 0,6k

a/n | thank you so much for your request luv! I hope I could write something as you wanted

！he's had mixed feelings from the moment he first saw you. hate? anger? like?

oh no, not like. he just hates you so much that he wants to fuck you until you know your place.

"fucking bitch."

"huh?" thanos looked at him incomprehensibly, about to turn his head to you, but nam-gyu quickly changed the subject "nothing."

！he's insanely jealous of thanos��� even if you don't respond to his flirting, seeing a man next to you makes him angry enough. at least it gives him a reason to make you cry more.

！he should be the only one who annoys you. if he sees someone picking on you, he'll quickly intervene, at first he'll protect you from that person, but then...

"are you too stupid to not protect yourself? no. don't even think about crying." his emotionless voice makes you tremble as he watches you quickly wipe your tears away "good. don't you dare unless I make those tears flow."

！he likes to tease you until you cry because he thinks you look so beautiful with tears in your eyes. If you turn your head and try to hide your face from him, he will forcefully grab your chin and make you look at him with your eyes full of tears. you will see that he is trying to calm down by taking a deep breath because oh...you have no idea how horny he is.

！If he can't sleep at night, he will come to your bed and bother you. If he can't sleep, you can't sleep either. but strangely, talking at night is when you get along the most. guess you are both too tired to argue, but that doesn't mean he won't say a few things about you.

okay, now please hear me out..

！this man is completely clingy when he loves you, but he is also hard when he fucks you, I can't say he doesn't like slow sex, but when he can fuck you like crazy, he doesn't really think about the other option.

！I say clingy because he can never be comfortable if his hand is not on your body in some way. he has to touch you in some way so that he feels better. when you least expect it, you may find his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him "mm...look who's here?"

！If we talk about life outside of the game, you can become his only world. yes, he likes to make you cry and upset. but only you. the others have never caught his attention and they don't. he still thinks you have the most beautiful tears.

！I can't say he's very loud in bed. he'll mostly let out short gasps and short moans. he likes listening to you more, whine for him and he'll make you see stars.

！he likes to tease you and make you cum so much that you cry from sensitivity. when you beg him to stop, he just puckers his lower lip in a mocking tone.

"aw.. does it hurt? what should I do?" he leans into your ear while his fingers, which don't stop, hit the inside of your pussy hard while you just had your 3rd orgasm "Is that all you can take? c'mon.. you can give me more, hm? ah..yes don't hide your voice from me, fuck-"

！he'll run his hand over you while you're sleeping at night, sorry not sorry. when you open your eyes and notices how his fingers are expertly tangled in your wetness, he'll smirk and say "you awake? good. now you better spread your legs for me and be loud as possible."

he's obsessed with you in some way, romantic or not, and he has no plans to leave your side.

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 11)

A/N: oh my god guys I finally wrote the next part! Please like it lol. I did see this as the end of the story but I purposely kept it open so if I ever did want to write more I could

Special shoutout to @lunargrrrl because without you saying that you loved this story I probably wouldn't have even touched it for at least another month (I love your writing so much I would do anything for you)

Word count:

Warnings: oral sex, scissoring, little bit of angst?

Taglist: 3440

@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos @dorabledewdroop @toomanylesbiancouples @accidentally-made-a-sideblog @chiar4anna @lonelyhalfwitch @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna (sorry if I forgot you or if I put you twice, I just copied and pasted the taglist from the part 10 and then whoever said they wanted to be on it recently)

“Hey!” You call after your step-mom as she struts through the parking lot back to her car, never breaking a stride, leaving you to chase after. “Agatha, wait!” 

She doesn’t even turn around, just unlocks the door and slides in, and she’s turning on the car when you finally make it into the passenger seat. 

You’re a little out of breath, so you take a moment to compose yourself. Agatha is staring forward, hands gripped on the steering wheel. “What was that?” You’re finally able to ask. 

Her knuckles turn white but she doesn’t answer. She shifts into drive and pulls forward and you can see how tightly her jaw is clenched. 

“Agatha, will you please talk to me?” You’re begging at this point, you don’t know what else to do, because something is wrong. That wasn’t her plan. 

Although, neither was fucking you in the bathroom. 

Your body betrays you and the concern you’re supposed to be feeling right now and heats up at the memory. You can still feel her thrusting inside you, your hips hitting the cold sink top, her hand wound in your hair making you watch yourself get absolutely railed by her. 

Stop. 

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, to get your mind out of the gutter, and Agatha finally pulls into the driveway of her house. 

It’s a good sign she didn’t take you back to your mom’s house, you suppose. She slams the car door after she gets out and storms into the house, you following hot on her heels. 

Agatha goes right to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine. She takes a long sip and a deep inhale, and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she opens her eyes, she finally looks at you like she’s seeing you for the first time. 

“I’m sorry I did that with you there,” she says and you almost laugh. Is that what she was upset about? 

You shake your head and steal the glass from her, taking a gulp and wincing at the bitter taste. Agatha raises an eyebrow at your blatant underage drinking in front of her, but says nothing. You swallow the wine hard and make a face. “Don’t be. It was kind of hot,” you admit, and she chuckles humorlessly. And then a thought dawns on you. “Wait, do you think he’s going to think something happened in the bathroom? Cause we both went, and then you came out and said you wanted a divorce.” 

There’s a glint in Agatha’s eye. “You really think he’s going to assume that I fucked my stepdaughter against the sink in a restaurant bathroom and then decided to break things off?” 

“Well…” You trail off, the leap to that conclusion seeming a bit implausible, especially for him. Your dad has a hard time focusing on things that aren’t himself. “Seems like we’re in the clear, at least.” 

Agatha snorts and drains the rest of the wine. There’s still something off about her, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice softening. “I mean, are we okay? I know we said earlier that we didn’t know what this would mean for us –” 

She cuts you off by slamming the glass down on the countertop so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t break and then closes her eyes to take a deep breath. You freeze. “I’m sorry,” Agatha says eventually, but it’s unclear if she’s apologizing for the reaction or for something else. Maybe for the whole thing between you? 

There’s an uneasy feeling that starts to grow in your stomach. Is she going to break things off with you too? 

Not that there’s anything to break off, is there? It hasn’t even been that long since this thing started, but it’s been intense. More intense than anything you’ve ever felt. 

You know that it might kill you if she walks away now. 

“Do you not want this?” Your question is like a stab to your gut, you’ve never sounded smaller in your life, and your heart pounds heavily in your chest while you wait for an answer. You need to know.

Agatha’s hands fidget on the counter, it looks like she wants to pour herself another glass of wine, but she refrains. “We can talk about what happens next later,” she says levelly and walks away without another word. 

The pit in your stomach only grows. How did you go from being fucked by Agatha’s strap not even an hour ago to this cold distance between you? She had been so possessive, so inflamed by the thought that you would even entertain another woman. 

The sound of her footsteps recedes up the stairs. What does she expect you to do? She picked you up from your mom’s house, and you can’t exactly call her to come get you. 

So you go upstairs and find Agatha in her bedroom, swiping at her face while she’s throwing clothes into a suitcase. You momentarily lose your train of thought when she slides open a drawer and you see about a dozen sets of lacy lingerie. 

Agatha clears it out and dumps it into the suitcase. 

And then your brows furrow in confusion. “Wait, you’re moving out? Why not make my dad?” 

She looks at you like she didn’t even realize you had come in. “It’s easier this way. I’ll get an apartment closer to my job. Your dad can do whatever he wants with this place, he’s the one that wanted it in the first place.” 

“Oh. Okay,” you say, a little dumbfounded. Everything is happening so fast, completely spinning out of control, and you don’t know what to make of it. She spares you another glance before standing up and moving to clear out her nightstand. 

She takes out a vibrator and the rope she tied you up with just yesterday and places them on top of the lingerie. 

“At least we don’t have to worry about my dad catching us anymore, right?” You try to joke, but definitely not the time or place.

Agatha stiffens. “Honey,” she starts, and you know you’re not going to like this. 

“No,” you interrupt. “You’re getting divorced. We don’t have to sneak around anymore, or at least not as much. I like you, Agatha, and I don’t know how you feel about me–” 

“I’m leaving your father because of you,” she snaps and it’s like you’ve been slapped in the face. A thick silence settles over the two of you and you can see how hard she’s clenching her jaw. 

“What?” You whisper. “He’s having an affair, I feel like that should be your main priority.” But your heart is beating fast and you feel like you’re getting close to getting something real from her. 

She rolls her eyes and faces you directly. “Obviously. But I was thinking about it before. He’s not the only one who’s been having an affair here.” Was she leaving him because it’s the right thing to do? Or–

“So…” The pieces are scrambling to connect in your mind. “You want to be with me?” 

Agatha scoffs like the idea is ridiculous. “Be with the eighteen year old about to go off to college and find plenty of girls her own age to fuck?” 

She’s insecure? You can tell Agatha doesn’t completely understand how she’s feeling either, you can see the storm brewing in her eyes. She’s conflicted, torn between her own feelings. 

You walk over to where she’s standing and put your hands on her shoulders. Agatha doesn’t even meet your eyes. But then you slide your hands down her arms, onto her hips, and sink down to your knees. 

Now she looks at you and swallows hard. You can see the effect you’re having on her, her blown out pupils, and it only spurs you on. 

Your fingers fiddle with the zipper on your pants, carefully watching her face for any sign of hesitation. You drag the zipper down slowly and she helps you take off her pants and steps out of them like she’s in a trance. She’s still wearing the strap-on, it still smells like you – fuck, don’t get distracted. 

You loosen the harness and slide that down her legs too before leaning in and nipping at her thigh. 

“Let me show you how much I don’t want someone my own age?” You offer, gazing at her through your eyelashes. 

Her hand tangles in your hair and you let out a quiet gasp. “Go ahead, babygirl,” she says in a low voice, the voice that always gets you going, and pushes your head in-between her legs. 

It’s a bit of an awkward position, with her standing above you, stance slightly widened with you on the ground in front of her, but you make it work. 

You flatten your tongue and lick through her folds, collecting her wetness and moaning at the taste. It’s something you’ll never get tired of. You think you could easily spend hours eating Agatha out, and that’s something you’d like to try if she lets you. 

When your tongue flicks against her clit, her hand tightens in your hair and she lets out a moan and you do it again, desperate to please, desperate to hear more sounds fall from her lips. She lets out a little gasp when you suck on her clit, and you do it harder. Agatha’s hips jerk and she tugs on your hair, causing you to moan against her pussy. 

“God, honey, right there,” she says hoarsely and you double-down on your efforts, rubbing your tongue up and down over her clit while maintaining eye contact. Her groan is deep and she keeps brushing away the hair that falls over your face so she can see you. 

Your hands trace her thighs, the front and the back, and you dig your nails into the skin, leaving crescent indentations. The muscles in her legs tighten and she tries to roll her hips against your face but the position you two are in makes that challenging. 

So she steps back, your tongue still moving instinctively even though her pussy is gone, and you whine her name. 

She smirks and runs a hand through her hair, collecting herself for a second. “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy just wants to move to the bed.” 

Agatha walks to her bed, sits and leans back, spreading her legs for you. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of her dripping cunt that was on your face not a minute earlier and you move to stand up, but she stops you. 

“Stay on your knees,” she orders and you clench around nothing. The carpet is rough on your skin, but you can feel yourself getting wetter from her intense but appreciative gaze as you practically crawl across the room for her. 

You finally get to her and you push open her legs even more, first deciding to kiss up the length of each inner thigh. She shakes beneath you, especially when you get close to the heat between them, and she gasps when you nip at the pale skin. And then you dive back into her pussy, thrusting your tongue inside her, and she’s able to grind much more on your face without fear of falling over when she’s sitting like this. 

Your stepmom rides your face and all you have to do is open your mouth and stick out your tongue and she does the rest; she drags her pussy all over, small huffs falling out of her mouth at the exertion. Agatha takes what she needs from you until you can feel her clenching and her hips start to falter – she’s getting closer. 

You slide your hands around the backs of her thighs and pull her even closer to you so you can take over, sucking roughly on her clit and then curling your tongue inside her and repeating, all while Agatha moans uncontrollably above you, her hips jerking with each touch to her clit. 

“Fuck, babygirl, right there,” she chokes out, you can feel her throbbing, feel her walls fluttering around your tongue, and you don’t change a thing about what you’re doing, keeping the same pace and speed to gradually build up her orgasm. You can feel her body getting tighter and tenser and you know she’s about to cum. 

You give her one last filthy lick up the length of her pussy and then suck on her clit harshly, and she cums all over your face, getting it absolutely soaked. 

As if you’d ever complain about that. Agatha looks so hot coming apart for you like that, and you can’t believe she’d ever think you’d rather have a college hook-up than her. 

It takes her a moment to recover, but when she tilts your chin up, you beam at her, and you can still see the heat in her eyes. 

And even though she just fucked you hard in the bathroom, you need more too. You surge up off your knees and almost knock her backwards with the force and capture her lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and lips. 

She groans at the taste of herself on you and you straddle her lap, pushing a thigh between hers so you’re both able to grind on each other while you kiss. Her hands hike up the dress you’re still wearing so she can cup your ass and guide you on her leg, pushing you down harder against her, and you have to break away from her mouth to moan. Your underwear is absolutely soaked and clinging to you, almost getting uncomfortable. 

Your fingers fumble with buttons on her silky button-down and eventually you get so exasperated that you just rip it, buttons flying everywhere around the room. Agatha chuckles in amusement and tugs on your underwear, and you reluctantly get off her for a second to take it off. 

But then you climb back on her, your lips finding hers again, and this time when her hands wrap around your waist to pull you closer, she does fall back with how hard you’re grinding and kissing. 

You don’t care. Instead, you get an idea. You’ve never tried it before, but it seems like this would be the perfect time to. 

Sitting back up, you ignore Agatha’s confused look and chew on your lip. She lets you angle one of her legs up and over your hip, while you put your other leg over hers. When your eyes flick back up to Agatha’s, you can see recognition on her face and she looks positively excited. 

And then with a deep breath, you lower yourself down and a gasp escapes your mouth when your cunt touches hers. 

“Fuck, honey,” Agatha says and you have to pause before you become overwhelmed with pleasure. 

You slowly roll your hips and you both moan. “Mommy,” you whimper. “Feels so good.” 

Her hands settle on your waist while you lean forward, bracketing her head with your arms, and she helps you move against her, your wetness mixing with hers and making it easy to slide against each other. 

“Fuck, baby, you have no idea how hot you are,” Agatha murmurs, maybe more to herself than to you, but there’s no denying how much effect those words have on you. Your clit pulses and you keen, your movements becoming sloppy, but Agatha’s hips rise to meet yours and there’s an absolute mess between the two of you in no time. 

Your head drops down so you can pepper kisses against her chest and sternum, mouthing at her breasts through her lacy, gray bra. Agatha jerks beneath you, her clit stroking against yours and you pant hotly against her skin. 

“Mommy,” you whisper, your head starting to spin with how good it feels. Her wetness, being able to feel all of her so intimately, her ragged breathing, the slight sheen of sweat on her chest. You drag your tongue over the skin at her bra line and her back arches off the bed.

Your limbs are entangled and the movements become short ruts against each other, hands flying from cheeks to hips to breasts to thighs and you can feel the tension building in your stomach. Agatha is getting closer, too, she’s breathing into your open mouth and the only sounds in the room are the two of you moaning and the slickness of your wetness. 

“Fuck, right there,” Agatha says tightly, your clit finding hers, and the two of you grind just like that, the stimulation almost too good. “God, sweetheart, you feel so good.” 

Your hips stammer and she pulls you in for a kiss, strokes her tongue into your mouth, and you cum all over her pussy, the dam inside you exploding. Pleasure races through your veins and you think your mind goes blank for a second, absolutely no thoughts except for Agatha. 

She follows shortly after, her body twitching under yours and you can feel her orgasm as she rides it out against you. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever felt, and the embers of the heat inside your stomach flicker. 

You stay on top of her for a minute or two, just soaking in the feeling of her against you like that. 

And then Agatha stiffens. “I don’t know if your dad is coming home tonight, but we should probably get cleaned up.” You groan at her mentioning your dad right now, right after possibly the best sex you’ve had in your life, but she has a point. 

You get off her and find your underwear, sliding it back on and fixing your appearance in the mirror. Agatha gives you a wolfish grin and a low whistle at your reflection and you roll your eyes playfully. 

She pulls on an entirely new outfit, her pants strewn on the floor somewhere and her shirt completely ripped open, and then she washes off the strap in the sink and puts that in her suitcase, too. 

It’s as you’re following her downstairs, carrying the other suitcase she quickly packed in your hands, when your dad opens the front door, looking flustered. 

“Agatha, please, talk to me,” he begs when he sees the two of you, eyes darting in confusion between you, probably wondering what you’re doing. Your stepmom walks right past him, and you awkwardly follow. “Sweet pea,” he says, this time referring to you. “What is going on?” 

“I know you’ve been cheating,” Agatha says, pausing when she gets to the door to whirl back around to face him. He looks like he just got punched in the stomach and you almost laugh. “I’m getting a hotel tonight, and then I’ll look for an apartment. You can have everything in this house. I’ll be talking to my lawyer tomorrow.” 

It’s the quickest settlement you’ve ever seen. When your parents got divorced, they had gone back and forth for months, bickering over the smallest things like blankets and game boards. You couldn’t be more relieved that Agatha just wants a clean break and no hassle. 

She opens the door and walks out of it, you only two steps behind, and you close it after you’re both outside, ignoring your dad’s calls for you to come back. 

You both wordlessly walk to her car and she opens the trunk to put her suitcases in. She didn’t pack all of her stuff, she will still need to come back and get the rest of her clothes and whatnot, but it’s a good start. You’re more than willing to come back by yourself and get the rest of her belongings, too. 

Agatha gets into the driver’s seat and you slide into the passenger’s. It doesn’t seem to be a question that you’re coming with her. 

“I know you don’t really want to talk about what happens next for us,” you say quietly, needing to get some things off your chest. “We don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But just know that I’m not going to do what he did, or throw you away like that. I really like you, Agatha. And if it’s just like this for however long this lasts, I’m okay with that. I just want you.” 

Her eyes stay on the road and her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she won’t. 

But then her hand slips down across the center console and interlocks her fingers with yours and she squeezes. You can see the hint of a smile ghosting her face. 

You squeeze back. That’s all the answer you need. 

[thef1diary]

“the idea of an audience seemed to spur him on” from your dirtbag daniel blurb 👀 can you write something to expand on this idea? anything goes really, I know you’ll come up with something good

— nonnieeee this idea 🥵 he would love to tease you (and make you cum) while his friends are around. 18+ content below

The dining table buzzed with conversation and clinking glasses, but the sound barely registered over the pounding of your pulse. You were perched in Daniel’s lap, your thighs spread just enough to take him deep, his cock buried inside you. It had been his idea to share a chair—he’d laughed it off, telling the crowd it was charming—but you knew the truth. He knew you weren’t wearing panties so he swiftly took his cock out as your seat for the night.

Now, his fingers toyed lazily with the hem of your dress, brushing over your skin as if nothing at all was amiss. “You’re doing so good,” he murmured into your ear, his voice a low, teasing drawl meant for your ears alone. “Sitting all pretty with my cock inside you, like the dirty girl you are.”

Your nails dug into the edge of the table, knuckles white, as you tried to stay still. Every subtle shift of your hips sent sparks shooting through your body, and Daniel wasn’t making it any easier. His hand slipped beneath the fabric, fingers trailing higher until he found where you were stretched tight around him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, almost reverently. “You’re so wet. You’re dripping for me, sweetheart.”

The wet sounds were audible now, slick and obscene beneath the table, and your cheeks burned with humiliation. You bit down hard on your lip to keep quiet, but Daniel wasn’t about to let you off that easy.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Grind on me,” he instructed, his tone calm and commanding. “Slow, like you’re just getting comfortable.”

Your breath hitched, your thighs trembling as you obeyed, shifting your weight ever so slightly. The movement dragged his cock against that perfect spot inside you, and you had to choke back a whimper.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice dark and silky. “Don’t stop now. Make yourself feel good.”

Your hips rolled in tiny circles, each movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible—almost. The wet slide of your arousal made it harder to disguise, and you swore the hum of conversation around the table faltered for a moment.

Daniel’s lips brushed your temple, a mockery of tenderness. “You’re so close to getting caught,” he murmured. “One wrong move and they’ll all see you like this—spread open on my cock, making a fucking mess of yourself.”

Your head turned sharply, panic flashing in your eyes, but Daniel only smirked. His hand moved lower, his fingers finding your clit and pinching it lightly. The sensation was too much, too sharp, and a strangled moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Conversation at the table came to a halt, heads turning in your direction.

“You okay?” one of his friends asked, brows furrowing in concern.

“She’s fine,” Daniel said smoothly, his hand never leaving you. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded quickly, your face burning, but you couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Especially not with Daniel’s fingers still rubbing slow, devastating circles over your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

He leaned in again, his voice a low growl. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you? Right here, in front of all my friends.”

You shook your head desperately, but your body betrayed you, hips jerking against his hand as your orgasm barreled toward you.

“That’s okay,” he whispered, his tone dripping with mockery. “I don’t mind if they see. Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

The pressure inside you snapped, and your orgasm crashed over you with a force that stole your breath. A loud, uncontrollable moan tore from your throat, and this time, there was no hiding it.

“Daniel,” you gasped, his name spilling from your lips like a confession.

The table fell silent. Every pair of eyes was on you now, their expressions shifting from confusion to dawning realization.

Daniel’s grin was smug as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand smoothing over your back. “Good girl,” he murmured, too low for anyone else to hear.

You buried your face in his shoulder, humiliation burning hot in your chest as the aftershocks of your release left you trembling. But Daniel wasn’t done.

He shifted slightly, his cock still hard inside you, and whispered, “Time to get up now, sweetheart.”

Your head shot up, eyes wide with panic. “I can’t—”

“Oh, you can,” he interrupted, his grin widening. “I want them to see the mess you’ve made. Feel it drip down your thighs when you stand up, let them hear it.”

Your heart pounded as he shifted his chair back slightly, his hands guiding you to your feet. And as you moved, the unmistakable wet sound of your release sliding down your thighs filled the silent room.

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[littlcdarlin]

dbf!Joel headcanons

warnings: big, though unspecified age gap, 18+ (as always)

note: Uni has been kicking my ass, so I’ve only had time for some headcanons lately. This Joel is very sweet, but I’m open to writing sleazy or dark Joel, too! If you have requests for any headcanons, I will be able to write them even during this stressful time. Full fics will take me a while longer. Enjoy reading, my loves <3 and feel free to add stuff!

He doesn’t really know how to cook well and mostly eats his faves every day but when you stay over more and more he makes an effort to learn and actually finds out he really likes it

Whatever pressure your parents put on you, he relieves it by accepting it rather than trying to fix it for you — you can just exist around him without expectation

He worries the age difference means you don’t have much to talk about, so he watches your favourite show that you mentioned and although it certainly wouldn’t have been his first pick, it lets him unwind. He likes watching something he knows you’ve watched and loved when you’re not around, it makes him feel closer to you

When he first starts looking at you differently he blue balls himself so as not to disrespect you — when he has sex with someone to relieve himself, he accidentally says your name to them

He keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet and cashiers wonder why he smiles at his debit card so much

He finds it hard to stay friends with your dad, because it makes him feel weird about this dynamic with you. He distances himself from your parents after they react badly to the news of your relationship, not because of guilt or cowardice, but because he doesn’t tolerate how they treat you

He thought he would hate the gossip after the two of you go public, but when you do, he finds himself imagining knocking you up just so everyone knows what he does to you. He opts for lots of hickeys until kids might be a possibility, but that doesn’t stop him from pretending you don’t have an IUD when he finishes inside of you

He loves when you wear his clothes, but when you forget your scarf at his place he wears it and enjoys that just as much — it smells like you and he likes the idea of people being able to tell it’s somebody else’s

When he figures out how much you like him talking to you during sex, he starts using the same voice/phrases in public to get you flustered & wet for him

He keeps everything that reminds him of you, like parking tickets etc. He doesn’t do anything with those things, doesn’t put them in a box, so they linger around his house, reminding him of you the way photographs would, except more privately

He starts “putting in an effort” for you when you start dating: styling his hair & wearing clothes he thinks you would prefer, until you tell him you like nothing more than his flannels and band tees and jeans, and although he doesn’t tell you, he’s beyond relieved. He realises you like him for him

When you tell your parents, Joel asks your father to hit him because “he knows he deserves it”. With time he learns he also deserves your kisses and smiles. Those things coexist within him, he thinks both are true

Despite completely supporting you in your pursuit of a degree & career, he likes when you’re on holiday, waiting around for him in his house wearing nothing but a pair of panties he bought for you & one of his hoodies. During those lazy weeks, he fucks you morning, afternoon, and night: before he leaves, when he gets home, and right before you go to sleep

He buys you a ring during the first week of dating because you mentioned how much you like it. He doesn’t give it to you until he knows you feel certain about him — he doesn’t want to freak you out. Still, even before that, he sometimes looks at it in its little black box and envisions it on your finger

During your first couple of “public dates” (neighbourhood barbecue where your parents are present etc.) he refrains from touching you much, although everyone knows about your relationship. You have to take his hand and initiate small touches for him to feel more comfortable

It takes him a short while, but then he loves being able to touch you in front of people: a hand on your lower back, an arm across your shoulder, his fingers lacing through yours, him pulling your back against his front and wrapping his arms around you. People stare sometimes (your Dad breaks one or two wine glasses in his hand), but Joel stops caring when he sees how happy it makes you

He tells you that you can change things about his home, that it should feel like your place, too and asks if you want to go shopping for “candles and stuff”, but you love being in a space that feels completely like him. It’s not how your apartment looks, but it makes you feel at ease, like you’re somehow living inside of him

Before he tells you he loves you, he whispers it in your ear when you’re sleeping, hoping your subconscious will somehow pick up on it. When he does tell you while you’re awake for the first time, it’s during breakfast. You stub your toe, and let out a string of curses you must have picked up on from him, and while he presses ice against your foot, kneeling in front of you, he smiles up and tells you: I love you.

The first time you sleep over at his house after he spent the night in your apartment, two brand new bottles of the shampoo and conditioner you use are in his shower. You thank him and jokingly ask why he didn’t buy your shower gel, too. He kisses you and tells you he likes when you smell like him.

He likes making you come more times than you thought you could — something about moving in and out of you while you tell him you can’t do it again, that you’re done, and then watching you fall apart on his cock anyway, thrills him to the bone. It makes him feel powerful, but part of it is knowing you let him fuck you without expecting an orgasm, that him being inside of you is enough for you to feel good

He doesn’t tell you, but he adds your name to his car insurance, so that you can drive it whenever you want

When you figure it out you give him road head every time the two of you drive somewhere — until he almost crashes the car and he forbids you to tempt him while he’s behind the wheel

He’s so nervous he asks Tommy for help when picking out a birthday gift for you — Tommy goes overboard and the gift turns out to be something completely ridiculous like a pair of huge earrings you would never wear. You tell Joel you don’t need a big fuss to feel loved by him. At night, he gives you a present he’s been wanting to give you for a while: he plays you a song he wrote for you on his guitar. It’s quiet and simple and so perfect you cry for half an hour

He doesn’t sleep well when you’re not around, and loves being close to you at night. If he could, he’d sleep nestled inside of you after a round of lazy midnight sex every night

As much as Tommy annoys him, it makes him happy to see how well you two get along. When you become actual friends with Tommy and hang out with him on your own, he’s more than pleased: the two people he loves the most in the world have become close

He would never ask it of you, but when you tell him you have stopped masturbating because he fucks you so often, it pleases him deeply. He likes being the only source of your pleasure. When you are apart for a while because of work/collage etc., he buys you a toy he can control from his phone

He tells Tommy he thinks he’s going to marry you during the first month of dating, which you find out about only on your wedding day during Tommy’s speech

[stxneflxwers]

I saw your post and came running 👀 I've been thinking about this since the end of December bc I really did not get into the holiday spirit until after it was over lmao BUT for any characters you want to write for: what are they like during the holidays? What traditions do they like to do? What gifts do they give you?

(Extra ideas you can take or leave if it helps your inspiration at all — How does Aventurine feel when you tell him you don't need any of those expensive gifts, just time with him? How does Sunday react when you sit him down to tell him he's stressing himself out too hard trying to find a perfect gift for you and that all you want is for him to be happy? How does Dan Heng respond when you tell him that the only gift you want for the holidays is him?)

^ I've just been rotating the hsr boys in my head all day at work lol so I have a lot of Thoughts™

gift of love.

summary. the greatest gift of all is his love.

a/n. tysm for the request!!! i decided to settle with gift-giving ideas you offered, since it sounded interesting and cute!! im just gonna stick with aven and sunday for this tho... i wanna test how sunday writes for me.

characters. aventurine. sunday.

cw. first time writing for sunday (this is more of a test with how much i enjoy writing him, sry for any OOC-ness). gift-giving. all lowercase. established relationship(s). PLS NOTE THAT I HAVEN'T DONE THE NEW TRAILBLAZE MISSION STILL CUZ I'M A LAZY MFER...SORRY.

aventurine.

tries to be soooo sneaky about figuring out what you like as gifts. he wants all of his gifts to be a surprise, after all! it doesn't work. you see right through his game plan. he's a smidgen disappointed (with himself), and might be a bit surprised depending on the kind of person you are.

he still ends up showering you in expensive gifts of things you enjoy. he tries to find the most expensive edition of any of those things even though he, of all people, should know that expensive ≠ well-made. you have to tell him to chill out.

he immediately believes you're angry with him (why wouldn't you be?). but you're not, and you can see the panic flash in his eyes for the tiniest of moments. you sigh softly with a wary smile. you briefly give him some space before talking to him about it.

you tell him that all the most expensive gifts in the world are nothing in comparison to quality time together. you remain patient with an open-mind and a listening ear – you know he needs a wealth of both. you make sure to tell him you miss him.

his mouth hangs open in silence when you tell him that, for once he's at a loss for words. his mouth closes and he smiles. he takes you into a soft hug and whispers, "i miss you too."

he makes an evident effort to be around you more often when he does have the time. you know, instead of wasting half of it out in the casino.

and it makes all the difference.

sunday.

the most perfectionist to ever perfectionist. stop him before he literally keels over from stress.

thankfully, you notice how weary he's been. and you ask him what's wrong. because at this point – everyone knows, everyone notices how he's been stuck in his head (more than usual). he frets over little things, as usual. but now he seems almost snippy. birdie is cranky.

when he eventually gives in and confesses that he cannot find the "right" gift for you, you're smiling and shaking your head. you give him a very long moment of silence, testing him – seeing if he catches on what you'll say next.

he doesn't catch on "quick enough", much to his dismay. perhaps he hasn't adjusted to your praises and reassurances...yet.

you tell him that the greatest gift of all would be for him to be happy. to be relaxed. to be in the moment. you throw in a little whisper, "maybe by my side, too."

he's silent – his mind running amok with what to say next. he settles for an awkward yet genuinely affectionate, "thank you..."

and then he asks for your forgiveness once he collects himself. you laugh softly and forgive him, you've gotten used to him asking for your forgiveness rather often. only yours, though.

at some point, you're going to need to tell him that forgiving himself is far more important.

[misc-obeyme]

I’m not entirely sure if this is NSFW so I do apologize in advance (Writing request)

For years I’ve been looking for anything on a bratty bottom Lucifer; go wild with it :3

I’m a bit tired of seeing always been dominate; I just want to see him be a princess LMAO

Oh uh.. h-hey there, anon... Sorry I'm only getting to this FIVE MONTHS after you sent it 😅

Hopefully you didn't give up on me and still get to read it l;asdkfj.

I wasn't sure how to make this not NSFW to be honest. Like okay bratty bottom Lucifer? But also a princess?? I did try to include some build up that was not smut, but most of this is smut. It was supposed to be a drabble and woah I got carried away. I swear they will not all be this long.

Anyway, I was kind of imagining male reader for this, but I tried to make it vague enough that you could also read it as pegging. Not sure if I succeeded, but hey I tried lol.

Lucifer x GN!MC (sorta??? see above note)

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: top!MC, bottom!Lucifer, fingering, oral, and penetration (Lucifer receiving), begging, pact commands, praise, a lil bit of hair pulling, Lucifer bein' a little bratty but like he's still him y'know... not sure how else to describe that lol

Something was going on with Lucifer. You could tell when he was distracted at breakfast, when his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere on the way to RAD, and especially when he didn't react at all to his brothers' bickering.

You knew you had to get him alone if you wanted to know what was on his mind. He wouldn't open up with anyone else around.

As the day passed, you kept looking for a good opportunity. It finally came after Devildom Law. As the two of you exited the classroom, you remembered that there was a small alcove nearby. You grabbed Lucifer's hand and pulled him into the relative privacy of the small space.

To your complete surprise, he barely resisted. A slight tug against your hand and a muttered, "MC" was the entirety of his reaction.

Once you were safely ensconced, you raised your eyebrows at him, his hand still firmly in your own, your bodies almost touching. "What's the matter with you today?"

Lucifer's gaze seemed distant as he stared at you for a moment. And then he snapped out of it, his brow furrowing and his mouth turning into a frown.

He pulled his hand out of yours. "There's nothing the matter with me."

You folded your arms. "Is that so? Then why didn't you stop Asmo and Levi from arguing at the breakfast table this morning? Or tell Belphie not to sleep through Devildom Law? You're distracted."

"Are you suggesting that I'm failing in my duties to keep my brothers in line?" There was a slight edge to this question. A tone that somehow indicated both irritation and resignation.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," you said. You smirked, running your knuckles down his cheek. "Don't worry. I can tell you've just got too much on your plate. Why don't you let me help you relax?"

Lucifer grabbed your wrist, but didn't pull your hand away from his cheek. "What makes you think you can?"

You pretended to be offended. "It's me," you said. "Do you even need to ask?"

Lucifer turned slightly away from you, about to leave. "If you really think you can help, then come to my room when you get back to the House of Lamentation."

You didn't say anything as Lucifer walked off, but you smiled to yourself. You were sure he would be thinking about later for the rest of the day.

In fact, you had the pleasure of watching him squirm whenever he caught your eye across the room. It was even better when you smiled knowingly at him, making him blush and look away.

If the others noticed anything, they didn't dare to say.

So you knew that Lucifer was already in a flustered state by the time you found yourself standing outside his bedroom door that evening.

You knocked politely, as if you were only there to check in on him.

Lucifer made you wait. You could hear him moving around, but it took a long time for him to finally open the door. He looked at you as though he was surprised to see you there.

"Are you going to let me in?" you asked.

Lucifer huffed and left the door open for you, going back into the room. You followed him and closed it behind you with a soft click.

Lucifer's back was to you. He had changed out of his RAD uniform when he arrived home, but now his coat was discarded, his sleeves rolled up, and even his tie slightly undone. He rubbed at his eyes again.

You walked up to him, letting your fingers trail across his back. Lucifer sighed and you could feel the tension in his muscles.

"So?" you asked. "Are you going to listen to me? Or are you going to fight me?"

Lucifer jerked away from you a little, sitting down on his bed. He folded his arms and looked at you with an expression that would be petulant on anyone else. For him, it was leaned more toward irritation.

"You certainly think highly of yourself," Lucifer said.

You knew then that it was going to be a task to get him to relax the way you wanted him to. He was already too uptight, already too wound up from the amount of work he'd had to do lately.

You smirked. "Fighting me, then," you said.

You didn't wait for his response, only strode over to him and straddled his lap. He steadied your hips with his hands, but waited with a frown on his face.

"Don't look like that," you said, cupping his cheeks. "I only want to make you feel better."

"I don't need your help," Lucifer said brusquely.

Your response was to kiss him. Despite his attitude, Lucifer didn't resist. It was careful at first, lips pressed lightly against each other. But you knew it wasn't enough and you didn't want him to think that things would be easy for him. You reached up, grasped a handful of his hair, and pulled his head back. He gasped and you took advantage of his now open mouth, letting your tongue slide against his.

The heat that suddenly radiated off his skin was so satisfying. You tugged on his hair a little more, enjoying the slight movement of his head, the way his hands squeezed you harder, the desperate moan that he couldn't hold back.

You broke away abruptly, removing yourself from him entirely. You stood before him, just out of reach. His face was flushed, his mouth slightly open, hair askew.

"MC," he said and his tone was completely changed.

You cocked your head to the side. "What's that? I thought you didn't need my help."

Lucifer stood up, moved toward you, put his hands back on your waist. "I don't," he said.

You chuckled at that response. He was so predictable. You moved away again. "All right, then. I have other things to do tonight. I'll see you tomorrow."

You walked toward his door.

"MC, wait."

You paused, your hand on the door knob. You looked over your shoulder at him.

Lucifer couldn't look at you.

"Yes?" you prompted.

Lucifer blushed, his eyes closed. "Please don't leave."

You turned back to him, amused. You walked up to him and suddenly took hold of his tie. "Look at me."

Lucifer opened his eyes and met yours.

"If you want me to take care of you, stop acting like you don't," you said. "Get on your knees and beg."

Lucifer sank to his knees, straining against your hold on his tie. You lowered your hand with him, so he wouldn't be strangled, but you didn't let go.

Once he was on his knees before you, Lucifer reached out, putting his hands on your hips again. "Please, MC," he said.

"Please what?" you asked. You really wanted to make him work for it.

Lucifer's blush deepened. "Please… command me…"

Your expression softened and you smiled at him. If there was one thing Lucifer secretly enjoyed, it was being commanded by his pact with you.

"Lucifer," you said, your voice soft in the quiet room. "Tell me the truth."

You felt a surge of satisfaction as Lucifer's eyes widened. He hadn't been expecting that. He somehow maintained his position as the truth spilled from his lips.

"I'm so stressed I can't sleep at night," he said. "I'm losing track of all the things I have to do and it makes me feel incompetent. I can't control my brothers. I can barely take care of myself anymore. All I want is for you to take care of me, just for tonight."

You didn't think he could blush any harder and yet…

You let go of his tie, took hold of his hands, and pulled him to his feet. You pushed him back on his bed then climbed up on top of him, dropping kisses along his jaw and down his neck. You paused for a moment to look into his eyes. "Good boy."

You thought he might come right then and there, but all he did was close his eyes and exhale sharply.

You made quick work of his suit, starting by removing his tie entirely and working your way down until there was nothing left. He remained still as you looked over his naked body. He was beautiful. No matter how he acted with you, you couldn't deny this fact.

Lucifer's red eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, but there was a shyness about his expression that you wanted to admire for a moment. He was blushing still, the pink hue highlighting his cheekbones and descending across his neck and shoulders.

He watched you for a moment while you removed your own clothes quickly, getting yourself ready to ravage him completely.

You were pleased with how quiet and docile he had become, as though speaking the truth of his needs and wants had finally tamed him.

You climbed up onto the bed and settled on top of him, kissing his slightly parted lips. Lucifer reacted immediately, opening his mouth for you and arching his back. You broke away to kiss down his chest, paying special attention to each nipple as you went lower and lower.

Your fingers played around the base of his already straining cock. You hovered above it, looking up at him with a smile.

"MC," he managed to say between heaving breaths. You saw the way his hands were twisted into the sheets beneath him.

"Desperate, aren't you?" you asked.

"Please, MC," he said and you were surprised that he didn't break eye contact with you.

You decided to reward him a little for this and took his cock into your mouth. The way he attempted to prevent himself from bucking up his hips was adorable. He didn't quite manage it, but you didn't mind. You pressed down on them yourself, letting the tension of his muscles create a slight ache for him. He moaned so deliciously, you almost wanted to let him come in your mouth.

But you didn't. You pulled your mouth away. The whine that slowly escaped him was so satisfying.

He looked up at you as you readjusted yourself. His eyes were half lidded and he looked a bit dizzy. He didn't protest further, only waited for whatever you had planned next.

You knelt between his legs, let your fingers dance lightly across his thighs. He squirmed a bit beneath you, still panting heavily. He seemed to anticipate your intentions, letting go of the sheets for a moment to pull some lubricant out of his bedside drawer, shoving it toward you incoherently.

You smirked and took it from him. "Always so prepared."

Lucifer blushed and looked away, turning his head on the pillow and digging his hand back into the sheets.

You tutted. "Don't turn away from me," you said, reaching out to turn his face back toward you.

You wanted to watch his delightful expressions as you pressed each lubed finger into his hole. The little gasps and moans, the fluttering of his eyes open and shut, and at the third finger the teeth biting his bottom lip.

That was more than you could take. You slipped your fingers out of him and put your cock inside instead.

The minute you entered him, Lucifer gasped and wrapped his legs around your waist. You positioned yourself over him, letting your arms rest on either side of his head, so you could kiss him as you began to thrust into him.

Lucifer moaned against your mouth, his body moving in time with yours, his back arching up and his hips jerking. You leaned to one side, allowing space for you to reach between your bodies, gripping his cock which was already leaking all over your stomachs. Your lips trailed along his neck, down his shoulder, across his chest, timing your kisses with each thrust and pump of his cock.

Lucifer was a mess in moments, though he tried to keep himself quiet, his moans and heavy gasps inevitably became louder.

His hands left the sheets to clutch at your back instead, fingernails running down your skin, but not breaking it. You didn't know if he had the presence of mind not to make you bleed or if it was simply that he was too weak from pleasure to do much damage.

He cried out your name as his cum splattered hot and heavy between you. The warmth of it seeped across your belly and dripped down your thighs. The sight of him and the evidence of his orgasm heating your skin, the somehow still melodic sound of his voice though it was ragged, the feeling of his hands on you, still grasping but now with barely any strength, everything was a small piece of the overall sensation of being in him, of being with him, of being the one to make him come completely undone. It was enough to bring you to the edge yourself.

You pulled out of him quickly, knowing how he would make a fuss about cleaning up, but to your surprise he seemed unable to move. He stayed limp against the sheets, his eyes half closed as he stared at the ceiling.

You couldn't help but laugh softly to yourself. You were quite pleased with how flushed and dazed he looked.

You took care of him, though. This had been meant to relax him and now that he was finally limp and pliable on the bed, it was time to pamper him. You cleaned yourself first, then cleaned him up as well, doing whatever he needed you to until he felt he was decent enough to allow you to snuggle in with him beneath his blankets.

You held him in your arms, his head pressed against your chest. You felt the soft air of his breathing, the light tickle of his hair against your skin. You ran your fingers through it gently.

"Now are you glad I was here to help you?" you asked.

Lucifer huffed against you. "I won't tolerate any more of your teasing, MC," he said. "If you continue, I'll kick you out of my room."

You laughed. It was an empty threat and you both knew it. You kissed his head as he snuggled closer. Tomorrow, you would wake up a little earlier than him just so you could make him some hell coffee. He deserved a little break after all he'd been through. But for now, you enjoyed the warmth of his skin against yours as you drifted into a peaceful slumber.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[aritsukemo]

Invisible Scars | Multiple Characters

Summary: In which the night before leaves you traumatized and causes your emotionally constipated/emotionally reserved friend to seek you out.

Warnings: Purposely vague descriptions ahead ( no names are mentioned besides yours ). Reader killed someone and is negatively reeling from it. Blood is mentioned but nothing seriously descriptive. All that said, read at your own risk!

A/N: I got the idea to write this after scrolling through @creativepromptsforwriting's sideblog and finding this prompt. I plan to tag characters who come to mind, but this is really an open drabble so feel free to imagine whomever you see fits! :D

Tagging: @nursedflowers and @saioratral

The high-pitched screech that bounced off the walls was a sound one would typically associate with tea at it's boiling point or maybe a hotpot screaming to be eaten. One thing that certainly would not have come to mind was a running faucet—specifically one that ran water so hot that it made even the durable metal cry out in pain.

The incessant shrieking, as annoying as it was, didn't faze the girl who sat before the sink. It was as if the noise was never there...which actually wouldn't be that far off from the truth.

In reality, she couldn't hear a thing aside from the same bloodcurdling screams.

Her hands worked as if they were trying to create a fire. They slide together at blinding speed, rubbing against one another so hard that a few more minutes of it would surely cause a tear in the skin of her palms.

Part of her wished that would actually happen.

A knock on the door sounds followed by the mellow hum of her friend's voice as he called from the other side, "Y/n. Are you still in there? It's me."

Heavy silence replaces her much needed answer, and if it weren't for the faint sound of running water, he would've been none the wiser in assuming she wasn't in there. Since that wasn't the case, however, he had no other choice but to try again.

"Y/n," He calls only for the same result. He then tries a third time, "Y/n!"

Silence. He sighs. Guess he has no other choice.

"Forgive the intrusion," With that gentle request serving as a small warning, he takes his time to twist the knob, giving her more than enough time to make herself presentable if need be as he swung the door open at a turtle's pace and peered inside.

As he suspected, she was standing at the sink, her back facing the door and preventing him from seeing what she was doing—not that he needed to. The steam, the running water, the uncomfortable sound of her hands sloshing together and sounding like two blades clashing...it all gave him an inkling of what was happening.

But how long has she been doing this for? He was almost to scared to ask. Almost.

"You've been in here for a while now," He said, and unlike his usual tone, his voice was dipped in uncharacteristic gentleness and sounded rather withheld. It was as if he was being held at swordpoint, and even then, it was surprising to hear him sound that way.

Maybe if she was paying attention she would've heard it and teased him about it. Possibly cracked a joke or two about him finally growing soft enough to warm up to her after all these years.

But instead he received silence and that scared him more than any enemy he's has faced in his lifetime.

"Hey," He called out again, but this time more sternly. He also didn't give her nearly as much time to answer. Not that she likely would.

"You can stop now. I doubt your hands are that dirty.." He's slow with his steps, closing the distance bit by bit, "Hell, by now, your hands are probably cleaner than mine."

She doesn't move, flinch, or do anything that would acknowledge that his words had reached her. It was as if she was in a trance, put under a spell of some kind or was a victim to some hypnotism caused by unknown means.

In a sense, what was happening right now was kinda like that.

In the matter of a minute or so, he's close enough to reach out for her delicate wrist. He does just that, but not too long after he snatches his hand away. He then paused, looking at his hand before looking back up at her with horrid shock gleaming off his hues.

This water was hot. Really hot. Hotter than any water boiled for food or tea.. He's surprised that the droplets don't just evaporate as soon as they leave the faucet.

"You don't feel that?" He leans in, getting closer to her face as his brows furrow, "Does that not hurt?"

He already knew the answer—of course it did—but the fact that she wouldn't answer him struck a nerve and in the end he finds himself grabbing her roughly by the wrist and snatching her away from that molten lava altogether.

He shuts off the water quickly after that, putting the annoying whistling it produced to an abrupt end. It seemed only then that the trance she was put under was broken and she was finally able to think and move for herself again.

As he lets go of her wrist, she finds herself opening her palms and staring down at them. She stares for a long while. Just opening and closing her palms repeatedly and rubbing her fingertips together, as if she was examining a foreign object.

The skin of her palms looked as if she had ran them across a rough surface for an hour; puffy with an angry hue of red to them.

They were a deep shade, just like... She clenches her teeth. He's quick to notice.

"If this is about the other day.." He began, his words dying in his throat as he watched as she flinched away at his very words.

He knew this would happen in the end. He tried to warn them all but nobody wanted to listen to reason. They sent this fragile glasswork into that cage of knives and sharp fangs without a care in the world and left him with the job of mending anything that was broken back together.

It truly irked him. More than something like this usually would.

"If... If you were in my shoes yesterday.." She began slowly and quietly, and despite her voice sounding like a mouse's squeak and a part of his blood boiling at the sound of it, he bit his tongue and held back his snapping comment.

Right now was not the time to be reckless. Too hard of a hit—or any pressure at all really—would cause his dear friend to shatter into a million pieces and he can't have that. How would he be able to fix her up in that condition?

"If you were me last night, if... If you had your weapon to that person's throat. ...If they begged you through their sobs and reduced to a blubbering mess...going on and on about how they needed to live.." She pauses, whether that was because she noticed how her voice grew more and more unsteady with every word she spoke or the fact that her hands had begun to tremble was unknown to even her. It seemed that at this point she was unsure of, well, everything.

And at that point, her friend saw no better of a time than to take a risk and speak his mind.

"If you plan to continue on to ask me if I would've still killed them than let me spare us both the time; I would in a heartbeat."

She laughs at him, her giggle sounding like a sick bird trying to sing. It should be comforting to here despite it's raspiness. After all, despite it not sounding exactly like her usual laughter, it's a miracle she's able to laugh at all. He should be sighing out of relief that she still seems to be gripping onto her sanity enough to find humor in such a dank situation.

But he couldn't, and all because of the simple fact that he had grown used to her sounding so full of life. It was truly a pity.

"I suppose that was a silly question of me to ask you of all people."

In all this time, he's noticed she hasn't looked up from her hands once. It was unnerving to see her like this, but there was nothing he could truly do about it. He could direct her attention elsewhere, sure, but that wouldn't stop the swarming of her thoughts or reduce her heightened awareness of what was once staining her hands and forearms. And, it surely wouldn't halt the constant loop of that incident from playing in her mind—that moment of her taking a life with her own hands, in a quite grotesque way at that.

Her mind was stained just like her skin and just like how she couldn't truly rid herself of the grimy feeling of blood sticking to her skin no matter how hard she scrubbed, he couldn't wipe her mind of what happened. They were both truly powerless.

But he had to do something. Now that they've gotten her foot out of the door, she has to walk through it. There's no backing out of this, she knew this when she went on that mission yesterday. There was no way but forward. He knew that better than anyone.

"Nevermind what happened, come on," He slides his hand up her arm, over her shoulder, and dips down to the upper part of her back where he gently pushes her in the direction of the door, all as he tells her, "You should get off your feet and actually rest. You'll need it for tomorrow.."

For the first time that night, she glances up at him. It was for a mere moment, but that quick second was all he needed. Her eyes..were like a starless sky; completely devoid of it's usually glimmer of life. It was as if he was staring at a solider who's spent the last decade at war.

Truly astounding how such a look was formed just after a single night.

Wordlessly, she allows him to push her in the direction of the door as if she weighed nothing. She walked slowly, and as she did she looked back down at her clean, reddened hands. Her eyes sinking even more as she does.

She finds herself wondering if the blood she felt would ever go away—if it were possible that her palms would be capable of ever being truly clean again—and that led her to softly murmur to the only one she could think of turning to; her companion and partner in crime, him.

"Does it.. Does this ever get better?" She asks to which she receives probably the heaviest sigh she's ever heard in her life. It tells her all she needs to know but does little to quell the turmoil in her heart. It has her questioning if she'll be able to handle the path forward. If she'll reach the end or go insane halfway through.

Whatever happens, she finds herself praying that she'll be able to walk this path hand in hand with someone who's treaded this gravel before.

..And it so happens that a person like that is leading her to her bedroom right now. How convenient.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[scribbly-artist]

Scare the Nightmares Away

Summary: Isha has woken up from a scary nightmare and runs to Jinx for comfort. To help Isha calm down, Jinx remembers a story and a tactic Vi used to use when she was Isha’s age.

Author’s Notes: This request was soooo cute tysm anon. 😭 I locked in hard for this one, I had so much fun writing it!!

Words: ~800 | AO3 Link

There was a comfortable quiet in the hideout. The hum of machinery being left on, Jinx quietly snoring on the workbench, passed out after a night of building new weapons for mass destruction.

It was somewhat peaceful… until Isha woke up with a start. 

She shot awake, a yelp escaping her as tears budded in the corners of her eyes. She had woken up from another nightmare, having had more of them lately. Scary people chasing her, a wild beast attacking her and the people she loved… they kept on popping up in her head when she slept. 

She got up and quickly ran over to Jinx who was sitting on a stool, clutching whatever of Jinx she could reach to hug her. 

Jinx woke up from the contact groggily, her head rising from the makeshift pillows her folded arms created. “...Isha…? What happened…?” Jinx questioned, wiping her lip that had residual drool with the back of her hand. 

Once Jinx’s vision cleared and she could see Isha’s face, she got the hint that Isha had a nightmare and is still trying to deal with the shock. 

“Did you have another nightmare?” Jinx tilted her head with a frown. “C’mere, kid.” She held her arms out wide, inviting Isha for a hug, which the small girl gladly accepted. 

Her hug was tight, warm. Comforting. Jinx wasn't even the one who had the nightmare, but this hug lifted her spirits and made her feel better. She pulled away for a moment so she could look at Isha’s face, using her thumbs to wipe her tears that fell from her eyes. 

“It’s okay… y’know, even I had nightmares around your age,” Jinx began to talk, placing a hand on the back of Isha’s head as she pulled her closer. She slipped her body off of her stool, opting to sit on the floor with Isha instead. “Before I was all on my own, my sis would help me whenever I had a really scary one. Just like this. She always came to my rescue.”

Isha gripped onto Jinx tighter. She was glad she didn't have to deal with these terrifying moments alone anymore. She had Jinx with her, after all. 

Jinx pulled away, a smile on her face as she looked at Isha, cupping the side of her face with her hand. Isha really reminded Jinx of herself when she was little.

“Nightmares are scary. They get to you when you're the most vulnerable. But, my sis, she’d always remind me there’s somethin’ scarier out there. You know what that is?”

Isha cocked her head to the side in confusion. She shook her head. There was a bit of fear in her eyes as Jinx held onto her response for the tension. But looking at Jinx’s smile, she knew nothing was wrong. She wouldn't scare her intentionally. 

“There’s something out there… something that eats kids right after they've had a nightmare…” adding dramatics to her voice, Jinx waved her hands around as she told this little story. “Lurking in the dark… the TICKLE MONSTER!” Jinx exclaimed. 

Isha let out a gasp. She sprung up and spun around on her heel as she made an attempt to run away, but Jinx’s reflexes were much too quick for her. Her arms reached out, grabbing Isha in a bear hug to hold her close. 

Jinx dug in wherever her fingers could reach – Isha’s ribs, her sides, her belly, under her arms. Isha burst out in childish giggles, squirming about. If anyone else was doing this to her, Isha would fight and bite. But she loved it when Jinx tickled her. It made her feel safe and happy. 

Jinx didn't continuing tickling Isha for long, not wanting to overwhelm the poor girl. She slowed to a stop, giving her some final pokes and scribbles into her side. “That's soooo much scarier than the nightmare monsters, right?” Jinx teased with a poke. 

Isha shook her head as she laughed and got up, pulling on Jinx’s hand so she'd be forced to get up too. 

The blue haired girl rose to her feet, ruffling Isha’s brown hair with her hand making her giggle. “C’mon, we got some important things to do today. We gotta get the bugs ready for the big fight!”

Isha excitedly nodded as she ran over to her sleeping quarters at the end of the propeller, grabbing her signature hat and placing it in its rightful place, on top of her messy, brown hair. 

Jinx hopped over, giving Isha a high-five. She couldn't help but smile, knowing that she helped scare the monsters in Isha’s head far away. 

She was happy she could pass the tradition that Vi showed her so long ago.

[flzrencent]

chris sturniolo ,, the seventh letter

! contents ! ; major character death, heavy angst!!! literally all hurt zero comfort!!!!! war (set sometime in the mid - earlyish 1900s??), probably soo historically inaccurate i tried to research i think.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

#7 

July 28th Somewhere in Sicily.

'I hope this reaches you well. 

It’s cold here, Matt’s stationed elsewhere – somewhere warmer, safer, I hope. I worry for him. Nick is here. I miss you, how’s it at home? 

I didn't think it was possible to miss someone so much. To get on that train with the knowledge I wouldn't see you for what could be years? It’s still all too much for me to bear. Even here, where the wind is harsh and I'm still sleeping a layer away from dirt and a wall away from death, all I can really think about is what would’ve happened if I'd have kissed you before I got on that train.

Though I'm sure this won’t last long. I have faith. With you waiting for me, I will continue having it.

It won’t do us any good pondering. So I'll stay thinking about how I will kiss you the second I come home.

I don’t think I have ever been this tired. I hope tomorrow will be easier, and I hope all is well where you are. 

Don’t worry so much about me, I beg. Celebrate our birthday with my family, will you?

All my love,

Chris.'

The letter sat tear stained in your shaky hands. The pristine paper yellowed, dirt marks from what was undeniably Chris’ hands when writing it on the corners, scribbles of hearts drawn lazily where he could fit them.

The death of Christopher Sturniolo was, undeniably and undoubtedly, the most painful thing to ever happen to you. The news, revealed on a sunny day, air warm and laughter echoing through the streets as the family mourned and spoken to you by two men who’d knocked on your front door, brought you to gut wrenching sobs immediately.

“Ma’am?” 

You wiped at your eyes, ridden with sleep and stress, and nodded in confirmation as they clarified your identity.

“Were you … in any sort of relation to Christopher Sturniolo?”

Were?

“Yes,” you spoke, brows furrowed as you shifted your weight on your feet, leaned up against the doorframe with a tilted head and an accusing look, “I am,” you clarified, the look on your face showcasing the tell-tale signs of concern, the beating in your chest suddenly loudening.

“We really are sorry to be the ones to break this to you, but he’s tragically - …”

The ringing in your head interrupted the rest of what they had to say. Hot, salty tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head,

A shallow and a shaky breath. “No, no, you’re wrong.” You pleaded, words small and broken by the sobs already slipping from your lips. This has to be some sort of misunderstanding, right?

“We truly are sorry,” the other spoke, voice low in remorse with his hat held low to his chest with one hand, the other outstretched with a worn out envelope and a sincere look on his face. The distant laughter lingered, the joy which only moments ago brought a smile to tug at your lips, and you selfishly wanted nothing more than for it to stop.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

florence ,

most of my war knowledge is from 9th grade history! excuse the terrible inaccuracy probably. can u tell i tried to be vague

this is so short aswell literally like 470 words. but i am a sucker for angst and i fear its what i find easier to write </3 i also lowkey forgot i could post things that i've written so i have countless bits in my docs rn!

[msviolacea]

Oh my god, am I actually writing real fictional words? Is the world finally ending?

Anyway. A scene in my head, now out of my head and on the screen. Tamsin de Riva/Lucanis, after the near-kiss and (right) before Inner Demons. Spoilers inside.

~~~~

"Hey." Lucanis's voice is soft and more than a little tense - Tamsin isn't surprised, given the circumstances. But she doesn't expect the topic, not right now, not in the middle of everything. "About the other night ..."

"I already told you, don't worry about it." The knot in her chest tightens, but this is not something either of them should be chewing on here, in the middle of Dock Town, as they duck around Venatori and try not to attract attention.

Lucanis shakes his head. "You deserve ... an explanation. Whether or not I have a good one."

She wants to snap at him, not now! But maybe this is his way of not thinking about whatever news they're about to get. She supposes, to keep him from dissociating any more than he already does, she can revisit her own humiliation. In the middle of Dock Town.

This day is shaping up to be just fantastic.

So, she looks over at him and gives him a small smile. "Listen, I understand. It wasn't what you wanted. There really doesn't need to be any more explanation than that. I'm not offended." Embarrassed, yes. But that's her own problem.

Lucanis stops short. It takes Tamsin a moment to process it - she stops two steps ahead of him and looks back. He's looking at her with his head slightly tilted, as if she's suddenly a puzzle to be solved. "What?" she asks.

"You think ..." He shakes his head. "Tamsin."

She steps back to meet him again. "Hmmm?"

He touches her arm - just a brief brush of fingers, before he withdraws and curls the fingers into a fist at his side. But as with each of his touches, few as they've been, Tamsin can feel the spark on her skin, even beneath the sleeve of her leathers. "Trust me, the problem had nothing to do with a lack of desire."

Oh. "Well. Okay."

"If you know nothing else, please know that."

"Okay," she repeats. She can feel her heart pounding, and she knows her cheeks are stained red. So are his, for that matter. She remembers the whisper of his breath across her face, that one moment when ... almost. How much she wanted. Still wants - always wants, if she's being honest. And she felt so pitiful for it that night, after he walked away.

But. Now.

"I guess," she says slowly, "knowing that ... whatever the problem is, when and if you may want to try, I'm here."

"I know," he murmurs, low enough that she barely hears the words over the bustle of the city around them. "You always are. Somehow."

Tamsin shrugs, and feels a relieved smile cross her face. "Where else would I be? Come on, I do not want Viago to read me the riot act for making him wait. It's embarrassing enough in Treviso, where everyone around already knows he's full of shit."

"No one in Minrathous will pay him much mind either. It's not like he's a mage." Lucanis takes a deep breath. "Sure. Let's go see what he ... what Viago and Teia have for us."

She can feel the thread of rage and despair under his words, so she takes the chance and reaches out to clasp and squeeze his hand lightly, quickly, before walking on. The only way out is through, as usual.

[deezee112]

The worst ending 11 : The Last Shrimp

The worst ending 10 | The worst ending 12

Yandere!Floyd Leech x GN!Reader

A/N : Thank you for following this series to the eleventh episode! I would like to thank everyone who has been following along. Even though I've finished writing Dakar quite a few times, there are still people who like me...Thank you very much everyone!!

I would like to say that this is the first time I have come this far. Thank you to everyone who has followed me. Even though my writing is bad, you still like it. Thank you very much! ( I confess that I'm starting to run out of ideas for a title and ending. Some of the content may be similar to previous episodes. )

Warning : This story contains themes of obsessive love , manipulation , and violence. It explores the darker side of relationships , including emotional manipulation and physical harm.

Tags:

@iris-arcadia

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

The day you brought him home, he was silent. Completely and utterly quiet. Not a word, not a sound, just an intense, unreadable stare. You wasn’t sure what to make of it.

His pale hair shimmered in the dim light of your apartment, and his long, lanky limbs folded awkwardly as he sat on your couch. There was a wildness about him, even in his stillness, like an unpredictable wave waiting to crash.

" Well. " you muttered, breaking the silence, " I can’t just keep calling you ‘hey, you.’ You need a name. "

He tilted his head slightly at that, his mismatched eyes narrowing, but still, he said nothing.

" Let’s see… You’re unpredictable. Definitely a handful, I can tell that already. " you said, pacing the room. " But there’s something kind of playful about you, too. Mischievous, even. "

You paused, staring at him for a long moment before snapping you fingers. " I’ve got it! Floyd. That’s what I’ll call you. "

For the first time, his lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. It wasn’t warm or comforting—it was sharp, almost predatory.

" Yeah " you said, nodding. " Floyd. "

He didn't do much, but the way his smile lingered sent a chill down you spine.

Raising Floyd was…an experience. He was unpredictable, just as your suspected, but there was also an odd charm to him. He had a habit of calling you strange nicknames, most of which you tried ( and failed ) to correct.

One afternoon, as you was sorting through groceries in the kitchen, Floyd came up behind you, draping his lanky frame over your shoulders. ( It doesn't matter if you are taller or shorter than him. )

" Shrimp~ " he drawled, his voice low and sing-songy.

You groaned, shrugging him off. " I’ve told you a thousand times stop calling me that! I’m not a shrimp! "

" Okay. " he said, stepping back with a smirk. " I won’t call you shrimp anymore. "

" Good. " you said, returning to you task.

" I’ll call you big shrimp instead! "

You froze, turning slowly to face him.

" Big shrimp? " you repeated, deadpan.

" Yup! " he said cheerfully, his grin stretching wide.

You stared at him for a long moment before sighing. " You’re impossible. "

He just laughed, clearly pleased with himself

Despite his teasing nature, Floyd had his moments of sweetness—moments that almost made you forget how unnerving he could be.

One night, after you had an exhausting day at work, you came home to find Floyd sprawled on the couch, flipping lazily through a book. He looked up as you entered, his expression lighting up.

" Big shrimp’s back! " he declared, throwing the book aside and bounding over to you.

" Floyd, I swear— "

Before you could finish, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you to the couch, forcing you to sit down.

" You look tired. " he said, his tone uncharacteristically soft. " You shouldn’t work so hard. It’s bad for you. "

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden concern. " I’m fine, really. Just a long day. "

" Hmph. " he muttered, crossing his arms. " If anyone at work is giving you trouble, tell me. I’ll take care of it. "

You laughed nervously. " Uh, thanks, but I think I’ll manage. "

Floyd didn’t respond, but the glint in his eyes sent a shiver down you spine.

As Floyd grew older, his playful nature took on a darker edge. His teasing became more intense, his moods more erratic. He would oscillate between clinging to you like a lost puppy and withdrawing into himself, his gaze turning cold and unreadable.

One evening, as you were eating dinner, Floyd stared at you intently, his fork hovering mid-air.

“ Why do you always look at me like that? ” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“ Like what? ” he replied, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

“ Like you’re…studying me. ”

Floyd’s lips curled into a smile. “ Maybe I am. ”

You laughed nervously, brushing off his comment as one of his usual jokes. But the way he continued to watch you sent a shiver down your spine.

The day started like any other. you had planned a quiet evening at home, but Floyd had other ideas.

“ Let’s go for a walk. ” he suggested, practically dragging you out the door before you could protest.

They wandered through the streets aimlessly, Floyd’s energy as erratic as ever. He would dart ahead, then circle back to walk beside you, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

“ Floyd, slow down. ” you said, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“ But I’m excited! ” he replied, grinning.

Eventually, you found themselves near a park. Floyd led you to a secluded spot by the water, his usual cheerfulness replaced by a quiet intensity.

“ Shrimp. ” he said suddenly, his voice unusually soft. “ Do you ever think about what it would be like to…stay like this forever? ”

You frowned, confused by the shift in his tone. “ What do you mean? ”

“ Just us. ” he said, stepping closer. “ No one else. No interruptions. ”

“ Floyd, you’re being weird. ” you said with a nervous laugh, taking a step back.

His grin returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “ Am I? Or maybe I’m just finally being honest. ”

As the conversation continued, Floyd’s demeanor grew more erratic. His playful teasing gave way to something darker, more desperate.

“ Why do you always try to run away from me? ” he asked, his voice rising.

“ I’m not running away. ” you replied, your heart pounding. “ You’re just…you’re scaring me. ”

“ Scaring you? ” Floyd echoed, his grin twisting into something almost feral. “ I would never hurt you, Shrimp. You know that, right? ”

Before you could respond, Floyd lunged, grabbing you arm with a strength that took you breath away.

“ Floyd, let go! ” you screamed, struggling against his grip.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled your closer, his mismatched eyes locking onto hers.

“ You don’t get it, do you? ” he whispered. “ You’re mine, Shrimp. You’ve always been mine. ”

In a burst of panic, you shoved him away and tried to run, but Floyd was faster. He grabbed you again, his grip like iron. They were near the edge of the water now, the dark surface reflecting the chaos in his eyes.

“ Floyd, please.... ” you begged, tears streaming down your face. “ You don’t have to do this. ”

But Floyd didn’t seem to hear you. In his desperation to keep you close, his movements grew more erratic. Before either of them realized what was happening, theystumbled, and you foot slipped on the muddy bank.

You fell into the water, you body vanishing beneath the surface with a splash.

For a moment, Floyd stood frozen, staring at the ripples where you had disappeared. Then, with a strangled cry, he dove in after you.

When he pulled you lifeless body from the water, he cradled you in his arms, his usually vibrant energy replaced by a hollow silence.

“ I didn’t mean to... ” he whispered, over and over, his voice breaking. “ I just wanted you to stay... ”

Floyd stayed there for hours, holding your cold body as the sun set and the world grew dark around him.

In the days that followed, Floyd’s usual exuberance was gone. He spent his time in the spot where you had fallen, talking to the water as if you could hear him.

“ Shrimp. ” he murmured one evening, a sad smile playing on his lips. “ You always said you hated that name. But now, it’s all I have left of you. ”

Despite his sorrow, Floyd’s obsession with you never waned. In his mind, you was still with him, you presence woven into every aspect of his life.

And though the world moved on, Floyd remained trapped in his own twisted version of love a love that had consumed you both

[facilitatingmyaddiction]

I need to be honest: I really hope Byler is endgame because Byler makes me hate Mike less.

This is a long rant, and this whole post is gonna sound full of vitriol, but BEAR WITH ME, I HAVE A POINT.

I hate Mike's character so much, the show does him so dirty, S3 was THE WORST and S4 was only better because of the Byler implications, because otherwise he still sucks

Allow me to rant after the cut before you guys jump onto me, ok?

He used to be the leader of the party, and in S3 he does NOTHING, and seasons 3 and 4 seem to go out of their way to show DUSTIN (my pookie, this kid is the GOAT, no one say NUTHIN' bout him) as the leader instead of Mike, which like, makes Mike kinda disappear into Mileven? He goes from leader of the party to El's only safe haven, and that bothers me so freaking much. It's a disservice to both their characters IMO. El gets stuck being the only one who can do anything to save the day, and Mike gets stuck being the only one who can be there for her. I don't think it is a coincidence that they get separated for most of S4, because I think if they were together the whole time, the plot would stop moving. Mileven in canon feels like being in a relationship just because you don't know what you would do if both of you weren't together, not because you actually like each other.

Now if Byler IS endgame, everything feels more cohesive. Mike is an asshole, yes, but not because that's who he is - he is an asshole because things are changing and he is hurting his best friend and he is really bothered by that but he doesn't know how to fix it. He avoids saying stuff not because he doesn't want to, but because it feels wrong and he doesn't understand how. He didn't want to play D&D with Will in S3, and he said it was because he was maturing, but as soon as he enters high school, he finds a D&D club and is super dedicated towards it. Lucas has his big game and Mike doesn't even think to negotiate with Eddie to move the last session around so they could all watch the game AND have the finale of the campaign - clearly D&D is, still, a huge priority for him, despite him being technically older and more mature now. Yes, he is still a dick for replacing Lucas at the last session, but this assholery puts his previous assholery ("Did you think we would be in my basement playing games the rest of our lives?") into a new perspective. He STILL cares about D&D, it is STILL super important for him. So why was he doing all that in S3? Makes you question, and that's good! Also very interesting how this priority only comes back once El is not around anymore. It's like he is back to his little bitchy S2 self, maybe trying to get back to the way he was back then.

S3 Mike is overprotective of El because, according to him, he "loves her and doesn't want to lose her". But, if my interpretation of Canon!Mileven is correct, he might be actually scared of what not being with her means for him. If Dustin is more of a party leader than he is, if he and Will are not on good terms, and he doesn't play D&D anymore, that means he's not Leader Of The Party Mike, nor Mike The DM, nor Will's Best Friend Mike. That leaves him as Protector of El Mike. So, he's overprotective, because that's who he's supposed to be, now, right? That's what having a girlfriend means, right? Lucas and Max are always together, and they are dating. So Mike should be there with her and for her, always. If El breaks up with him, who is he then?

So he fights to get her back. And since he's fighting to get her back, that probably means he loves her, right? When someone breaks up with you, and you still want them, no, NEED them back, that means you love them, right?

But then she leaves, and he can'tdo anything about it. And Will leaves, too. And suddenly, he's not missing the time he spent with El. Something feels wrong, and he's still a little bitch to everyone around him, but it's not because of EL. He talks to El, he writes her letters, they keep in touch. And he doesn't miss her. He should, because she's his girlfriend, and he's supposed to be missing her, so he complains about not being able to call her on the phone, but he doesn't try to solve that problem like he did in S2 when he didn't even know for sure if El was alive. S2 Mike would move the Earth to be able to talk to El. S4 Mike thinks just getting on a plane to see her in the summer is enough. A letter every once in a while instead of a phone call is enough. "From Mike." is enough. S4 Mike didn't implode while not having El, like he thought he would, so things change. He's not as protective anymore because he doesn't need to be. The last year was enough proof that he could still be who he is without El, so he has another angle to self-reflect.

If Byler is endgame, then S4 Mike being an asshole to El after she defended herself in the rink is less of him just being a shitty boyfriend and is instead him being mad at himself for neglecting his friends and his own self to take care of her when she truly doesn't need him, even without her powers - and then taking it out on El. He understands that he is pissed, he is prompted to make amends (iirc he didn't go talk to El out of his own volition, he just did it after he saw how Will was reacting to how bad he was treating El) and he can't. But he CAN make amends to the one he thinks he actually wronged: Will.

I hope we get to see a healthier (platonic) relationship between Mike and El in S5. I'd love to see Mike stop being the little asshole that he is after understanding himself a little better. It would put a nice bow in things because GOD MIKE YOU ARE SO ANNOYING AND SUCH A JERK RIGHT NOW.

[skyheld]

“You insist that you know me”, Ameridan says, gazing into the chaos of Hakkon’s eyes, the glacial storm of whites and blues. “Yet if you did, you would know that before I was a commander I was a Fade-hunter, trained to withstand beings such as you, and you cannot hope to snare me. I will not be coerced. I will not be tempted. I will not be forced. I am very tired of this, Hakkon, but you cannot even wear me down—you do not have time. Let me sleep. It is pointless.” The shape changes again. The face narrows, the body shrinks, becomes lean and straight-backed, wiry underneath the notched old-fashioned armour. Red hair falls in tangled knots from a braid that's been caught under a helmet. Spidery lines trace the high cheekbones and the straight nose, fanning out across gaunt cheeks. Oh, I know you, Hakkon says with Ameridan’s voice. Wars fought with magic and mind are still my wars. I have your face. It would not be a stretch to have your body too.

i don't think suicidal ideation is the right tw for this, because accepting death when you're dying isn't suicidal, but it's something in that vein so under the cut it goes. the other tws are lighter, I think.

Keeper Levinia has stopped fretting. Maybe that is how he knows.

She used to come into his tent every now and then to ask if he’d eaten, and how much. He'd reply, truthfully, and she’d say, ‘sounds like a stretch to call that eating’ and produce something she just happened to be carrying around—a flatbread fresh from the cookfire outside, some blueberries the gatherers had found that day, cold jerky from the august ram the hunters felled earlier. He’d take it because he knew she worried, and maybe for a mouthful or two he’d enjoy eating it. But then it would taste like nothing and the weariness would come and he would lie down with his back to her and sleep. It was all he really wanted, to sleep.

But she has stopped asking. She has brought the herbal tea that dulls the ache in his bones and some roasted chestnuts on a plate which she places on his bedside but doesn’t ask him to eat. She sits on the edge of his cot, watching his hands around the clay cup as though she’s not sure his strength is enough to hold it.

Maybe that is how he knows, because she knows.

“I received a letter from Sura—from ‘Dalish’”, she says, smiling slightly at the nickname. “It was dated a month ago, but all was well with her then. I hope things have not changed.”

These are troubled times. He remembers hearing the others speak of it, that the spirits are restless and the people, too. They have not told him much; no use bothering him, he supposes, when there is nothing he can do. “Was Skinner with her?”

“Always is.”

“Good.” He brings the cup to his face, let’s the steam warm his lips. “Send her my regards when you write back.”

“Would you add a few lines yourself?”

“No—not this time.” His writing is shaky now. She would notice.

For a while Levinia sits with him in silence. Outside the children are playing and he thinks that maybe later, if he feels stronger, he’ll come out and sit by the fire and maybe they will want to hear a story. In his heart he knows he’ll never have that strength, but it’s a nice thing to think about.

When his tires the cup lowers and she takes it from him, sets it half-full on the bedside table, and smooths out her Keeper’s robe as she rises. If she says anything when she leaves, Ameridan does not hear her. He has lain down with his back to her and fallen asleep.

He knows. And he isn't afraid.

It still seems like a heavy thing, dying.

————————————————————————————————————

Even she has given up on you. Pitiful.

Except he does not sleep, really.

The location the god-spirit has plucked from his mind this time, or which his mind has plucked from itself, is an army camp somewhere on the frontline of the Blight. The tent is small and clearly shared with others; it isn’t the Inquisitor’s tent but a commander’s, or several of them, their bedrolls separated by canvas to create tiny rooms. Everything is stained in mud, torn and threadbare. Ameridan sits by the fireplace in the center of the tent, dressed as though he just got out of his armour.

Opposite the fire, Hakkon lounges as if the foldable chair is a throne. His shape is that of an Avvar warrior, but it’s constantly shifting—he’s a war mage in blue paint, then a scout in hunting gear, then a thane with a pelt across his shoulders. He’s old and scarred, then young and unmarred.

Ameridan considers ignoring him, but he’s not so tired in the dream; his mind is as quick as it used to be. “It is not pitiful to face the inevitability of death.”

It is if there is another option.

“But there is no option. Not for me.”

Hakkon snarls and shifts in his chair, growing in size as he leans forward. Now a mighty warlord, a berserker perhaps, his face grows hard as though chiselled from rock.

You choose to give up.

“You insist that you know me”, Ameridan says, gazing into the chaos of Hakkon’s eyes, the glacial storm of whites and blues. “Yet if you did, you would know that before I was a commander I was a Fade-hunter, trained to withstand beings such as you, and you cannot hope to snare me. I will not be coerced. I will not be tempted. I will not be forced. I am very tired of this, Hakkon, but you cannot even wear me down—you do not have time. Let me sleep. It is pointless.”

The shape changes again. The face narrows, the body shrinks, becomes lean and straight-backed, wiry underneath the notched old-fashioned armour. Red hair falls in tangled knots from a braid that's been caught under a helmet. Spidery lines trace the high cheekbones and the straight nose, fanning out across gaunt cheeks.

Oh, I know you, Hakkon says with Ameridan’s voice. Wars fought with magic and mind are still my wars. I have your face. It would not be a stretch to have your body too.

“Get out of my mind!” Ameridan snarls, but the younger, prouder version of himself smiles a smile he never would have worn, gleeful and triumphant, and leans back in the chair in a way that makes him want to snap at him to sit up straight.

You cannot deny that this was you, once! You stood at the forefront of battle, commanding armies—

“I had to.”

You attended war councils. You shouted down generals for their poor tactics—

“I have not forgottten.”

You fought me, Hakkon says and silver shoots into his grey hair, the stolen face falls in onto itself, dark circles dig deep underneath its eyes. You were old and tired even then, yet you fought me, alone in that cold ruin.

“I remained myself.”

Did you? Creators, he does have a piercing gaze in those pale eyes.

Ameridan closes his fist around the small scar on his palm. Hakkon wears his lyrium brand on his forehead; here, in the dream, it is a void, a black sun burnt into his skin.

He looks older now, but younger still than when Ameridan last looked at his reflection. He has aged a century in those ten years since the Inquisition found him in the Frostback Basin. Death sits at the back of his eyes now. Death as an embrace, as rest at last.

There will come a day soon when he closes his eyes to sleep and it isn’t Hakkon waiting for him across the fire. Long ago it was said it would be Falon’din. Now he does not know who will be waiting, but he will take their hand regardless. He is not afraid.

Ameridan, Hakkon says and his face changes again. This is my last offer. I will make no attempt to take control of your mind. Your body will be yours. You will be strong again, and no longer in pain. I will aid you. Against that which is coming, you and I will both be needed and I can do little from here. I cannot return to my people. I am bound to you as you are bound to me. I have no choice. I WILL AID YOU.

“Do not use her face against me!” Ameridan snarls, standing up, and a storm rips the tent to shreds as his fury takes hold of the Fade. “Not hers! I know how to fight you, even here—I will slay you if it is the last thing I do, if you take me with you!”

Telana looks at him passively, her face, warm and beloved, but wrong—wrong the way Hakkon twsists it, wrong in this time and place. She looks down—and then off to the side, as though listening. Her eyes widen.

Trouble, she says, her voice shifting as her face does, back to the Avvar warrior. You are under attack. There is no time—accept my offer! You have to—

But Ameridan is hearing it too. Screams of shock and terror. Weapons clashing. A spell rupturing earth. He focuses on that, and wrenches himself awake.

Fire.

There's fire outside, black smoke seeping past the cabin door, a sickly reddish light through its cracks. Shrill, frightened screams. Battle-cries—those of elves and those of humans. Bandits or mercenaries, they could be either. Bandits rarely dare attack a Dalish clan, but these are troubled times and people are desperate. For mercenaries, it is only a matter of payment, and there is always someone who pays.

Even with the strength of desperation standing takes precious seconds. The room spins. He can’t find his staff. It should be in here, all his belongings are, but he can’t find it. His hands, then; there is magic left in them. He stumbles towards the cabin door, legs stiff from days of unuse; when he reaches it he falls towards it, his hand on the door latch so it opens.

Darkness has fallen outside, but it has turned into an inferno, red sky and black smoke, black shapes running in front of the flames. They've been taken by surprise. There's no organized defense, only scattered groups fighting for their lives.

"Hahren—" There's someone standing just outside the aravel. Gawin, one of the better warriors, out of the immediate battle and waiting here. To protect him? No, not when others are dying, that cannot be— "Hahren, go back inside, it isn't safe—"The blade of a greataxe slices through his throat cleanly. Two thuds when he hits the deck of the aravel: body and head apart.

Ameridan clings to the doorframe as the warrior steps over Gawin's body and towards him. He's too well-armed for a bandit. A mercenary, then. There's always someone who pays. He has to fight; there's no choice. He slumps when he takes one hand from the doorframe and holds it out, pulling at the Fade.

The force magic rippling through the air towards should have sent the mercenary flying backwards, tumbling over the prow to crash on the burning grass behind. But it's too weak. Magic comes too slowly to Ameridan's fingers, and unravels before it's at full power. The bandit stumbles backwards, and rights himself. The only harm done is that he's bitting his tongue, so when he steps forward again, his smile is red.

"If that's all the magic you can do", he says, "it's time to pray to those heathen gods of yours, knife-ear."

Ameridan's hand is still in the air in front of him.

The clan isn't helpless. They are strong in numbers and in skill. But this attack has been sudden, and the mercenaries haven't struck in desperation; this has been planned, they know what they're doing and are certain of winning. He sees the halla-keeper slain by the cook-fire. They do not care who carry weapons. They may not spare the children, either, or if they do they'll leave them to starve.

"Hakkon Wintersbreath", he says, stretching his fingers fully, "I accept your offer."

————————————————————————————————

HE IS HERE HE IS HERE HE IS HERE

Hakkon laughs at the words and the will weaving their way to him in the Fade, laughs as he takes the hand held towards him, laughs as the hand becomes his, bones and blood and skin and sinew wrapping around his spirit-being, HE IS HERE HE IS HERE HE IS HERE! There are ribs around his lungs, lungs around his breath; he moves by way of muscle, pulling and bending limbs; a spine shoots from his bone-encased mind, snaking nerves through tissue; a heart beats blood through his body; skin stretches soft and supple around everything. It is him, he is it; he feels the thousand sensation of being alive, air on his skin and smoke in his throat and the planks of a deck underneath hardened soles. He feels the pain of old age and old wounds, the frailty of long illness, and he laughs; the pain is life, life is pain; it blooms through him like blood in water, he is here he is here he is here.

In front of him, the mercenary has stopped in his tracks, shocked by the sudden change in his adversary: the cold laugh bursting from his lips, the calm, casual straightening from the slump against the doorframe. Hakkon is in no hurry. Between them the elven warrior lies dead, sword still clutched in his hand. A good blade, if not his weapon of choice. The spine protests when Hakkon bends to pick it up; the fingers are weak with hunger around the hilt, the shoulders unwilling to move into the correct position, and still he's laughing.

It is glorious to live. It is glorious to hurt. It is glorious to kill. He is here.

The sword does its work, splitting the bandit from waist to throat, but the battle-axe that clatters to the aravel's deck as he lies squirming in his innards will serve even better. There isn't quite enough muscle to lift it, let alone swing it, but no matter, Hakkon lifts it with spirit-strength, swinging it casually as he steps down the landing from the aravel, his feet finding scorched grass. He is h—

Hurry. A voice, a will, momentarily lost in the shock of possession, makes itself known. Hakkon grits the teeth inside the mouth. Throughout the clearing the elves are being pushed back, dying one by one and there is a want that isn't his to leap in and save them, save all of them that can still be saved. You promised to aid me. Aid me!

Well, he did promise that, and he does want to slaughter, and so— he let's the will carry him forward, breaking into a sprint.

The nearest mercenary turns to face him. Hakkon laughs, spins, swings, and misses. Ah—his reach is limited, he is not very tall. Nor does he have enough weight to counter that of the greataxe continuing its arc. His spirit-strength holds fast the shaft before it flies out of his hands, and instead his shoulder cracks, shifting out of its socket. The pain blazes white-hot, blinding him. Hakkon laughs at its searing fire, spreading from shoulder and out into the arm, up towards the base of the skull; but at the back of his mind he feels Ameridan wince from it and remembers his promise: you will no longer be in pain. He cannot take it away entirely, but he can dull the pain for now, make it bearable.

He does so, and wrenches the shoulder back into place.

The rest is glory. It is revelry, it is life. He is here. Despite some difficulties with the new body, the bandits are no challenge, though they entertain. He wishes he could take his time, but to save as many of the elves as he can he must make quick work of most of the bandits, until they start running. Then they're fair game, then he can savour it. He is here.

He has run down one of the very last and killed her on the very edge of camp when he suddenly stumbles, the legs buckling underneath him. The body is trembling, little shivers all under the skin; the heart is beating frantically in an uneven rhythm. He puts a hand to his chest to calm it, but there is no doubt: if he goes on, he will do damage. The body cannot handle too much strain, even with his help. It will take time to build that strength again.

"Well", he says, "it was good for a first attempt."

Behind him, movement. One of the elves stand some twenty paces away from him, covered in blood and ashes, staff held in front of her not in fear but in preparation. Her face is set: angry, hurt, with an underlayer of fear.

"Ameridan", she says, "what have you done?"

The guilt that rushes into the chest isn't Hakkon's. Nor is the shame that follows after, or the grief, or the fear, or the self-hatred, or the regret. They aren't his, but he feels them all the same like a rising wave. They make him angry.

"What have I done?" he asks, forcing the legs to stand again, the back to straighten. "What have I done? I saved your pitiful clan, woman, I—"

He goes quiet. There is a will overpowering his, a will like a tidal wave, a will like the sun rising against night, and the body is no longer Hakkon's, the tongue no longer obeys. He is pushed and thrown down into the depth of their mind from where he cannot do anything.

Ameridan swallows, fists clenching and unclenching as he searches for words. A thousand apologies, a thousand pleas course through his mind and Hakkon's, but in the end, voice brittle yet calm, he says: "You know what I did, keeper."

She looks at him, and the shock, the disapproval, the fear in her gaze cuts deeper than any deathblow in Hakkon's memory. He wants to ask where is her gratitude, but Ameridan's will is a winter's worth of snow on the mountainside, keeping the mountain still, keeping him quiet. "You cannot stay."

He says, "I know."

There is more she wants to say, he can see it on her face, but her mouth tightens and her grip on her staff, and she turns away. Ameridan lets his body sink into the grass again. Hakkon isn't quick enough to catch it. They kneel, silent, in that storm of guilt and sorrow. Their body is still trembling.

We should eat, Hakkon says. We're hungry.

They lift the head together. "I suppose we are", Ameridan says.