#if I had the time. let’s be honest I don’t

[ryescapades]

*ੈ‧₊༺ “SHE’S BEEN DANCING WITH THE DEVIL ALL NIGHT,”

— a casual night out at a party turns wild when you come face to face with a masked man.

characters: ghostface!itoshi rin (bllk) x fem!reader contents: nsfw mdni !!! mention of drinking, unprotected p in v seggs, mutual + guided masturbation, slight oral fixation, a bit of choking, mirror seggs, dirty talk, creampie, college setting, hint of jealous!rin, swearing, reader wears a skirt

a/n: i didn't write this btw. my inner demon did. (blaming lumi for sending me that ghostface fanart of rin) 2k wc

you feel him before you can even see him.

it’s heavy and persistent, the weight of his gaze pricking the back of your neck like dry needles, except it’s making your muscles lock up tighter, not supposedly the other way around. you look around, eyes roving over the boisterous crowd and taking in the sight of some of them dressed in costumes in some way or the other.

halloween had already ended, but there are people still in the festive mood, it seems.

your roommate had invited you to this huge college party at someone’s house, and with nothing to do with your time seeing as the midterms season just finished, you had agreed to come along. you thought the hang out would only consist of a few chats and drinks with friends, maybe a dance or two, the night ending with you going back home probably drunk and alone.

you just didn’t think some random guy would immediately take interest in you the minute you slid up to the makeshift bar.

reluctantly, you force yourself to focus on the conversation in front of you, barely taking in what the guy is saying. you can’t even remember what his name is and the department he’s from.

jirou… from the medic course? you think? you don’t know anymore. and frankly, you don’t care. you’re pretty sure he was flirting with you - still is, in fact. but again, you’re just not listening. not when as soon as the guy started talking, he appeared in the corner of your eye.

silent yet deadly imposing, he towers over most of the people here like he owns the place. clad in a black hoodie and equally dark pants, he looks almost out of place with those casual clothes, if not for the ghostface mask he adorns.

goosebumps prickle on your arms when you accidentally glance at the inky depths of the eyes on the mask.

“hey, you listening?” jirou’s voice takes you by surprise, and the glass of fruit gin your roommate had graciously requested for you almost slips out of your hand from your flinch, making the cold liquid inside to splash out to your hand.

“shit, sorry! i didn’t mean to startle you—“ jirou panics, but you’re already shaking your head and waving your hand off as you rise from your seat. “no, you’re good. i just - uh, i’ll be right back,” you lie through teeth.

you’d rather spend the next hour rereading the materials for your previous tests than listen to him talk for another minute, if you’re being honest. swiftly making your way to the washroom, you sigh wistfully at your lack of luck in getting a good new company tonight.

you don’t get far, unfortunately.

out of nowhere, there is a hand taking a hold on your elbow, causing you to let out a shriek as you’re being pulled into an empty room. the door closes, your back pressing against it as the culprit of said hand looms over you.

it’s the man from earlier. the one whose gaze had been burning holes in the back for your head from across the room. your body turns rigid, unnerved at the ghostface mask he’s wearing. “it’s you,” you whisper.

he doesn’t say anything, but his hand reaches up to your face, cradling your jaw with his fingers as his thumb places itself on your lip. your pulse quickens when he gently traces the seam of your mouth, pressing onto the plush cushion.

words instantly die on your tongue the moment he uses the same hand to hold yours— the one still sticky from the alcohol from earlier— and brings it to your lips. your breath hitches at the insinuation. “wh-what…”

without any warning, the masked man pushes your middle and ring fingers in, breaching past your lips and into your mouth. a muffled sound rips out from you, one that takes both you and him by surprise.

holy shit, did you just pathetically whimper from having your own fingers shoved into your mouth? yes. yes, you did.

sweet and tangy tinges from the gin hit your tastebuds, and something inside you flares up then. the man lets out a hiss, palming his erection with his free hand when you swirl your tongue around and in between your fingers, taking them deeper into your mouth as your lashes flutter from your own action.

there’s a hushed curse, and suddenly you’re being shoved onto the bed in the middle of the room. you don’t fight it. you don’t even want to.

desire pools deep in your core, your body alighting from the sensitized nerves. you can feel yourself getting hotter, the growing wetness between your thighs making your panties feel uncomfortable to be in.

“hands and knees,” your breath stutters at the voice, pussy clenching around nothing as you move to obey his command. you’re doing something wrong, however, when he audibly clicks his tongue. “lower,” he says.

you bite down on your lip, finally understanding before you descend lower, your head laying on the bed and hips lifting in the air as you nervously fist on the sheets below you.

you feel so… exposed. vulnerable. and yet you’re so pitifully turned on you don’t know what to make of yourself.

shivering as his hands drops to your hips, he pulls your skirt further up to bare your ass for his eyes to see. he teases the hem of your soiled panties before tugging them down your thighs, cursing low under his breath at the sight of your wet, dripping cunt.

“play with yourself,” he instructs. swallowing down the nerves, you bring the fingers you’d sucked on earlier to your pussy, tentatively rubbing at your folds as more slickness seeps out from you.

you let out a small whine when you hear the clinging of his belt behind you. “faster,” he orders, and you do. your pussy clenches again, whimpering into the sheets as your fingers get more coated with your sticky wetness.

you can hear him breathing heavily, and you know he’s stroking himself at the sight of you. shoulders rigid against the bed, you desperately want to turn around, to see how he looks like, how his dick looks like.

“please…” you whisper. you almost rejoice then, when you feel the bed dips on both side, his knees appearing beside your own. “god, you’re so soaked i could just push it right in,” he groans.

and that’s what he’s planning to do.

grabbing both of your arms, he pulls you up to lean back against his chest, the soft material of his hoodie a contrast to the hard, throbbing cock against your back. the audible dreamy sigh you're trying to hold back feels fatally difficult after feeling the sheer size of him.

goddamn, he’s gonna make you feel so fucking full.

he rests his head beside yours, bare muscled thighs caging yours in between. “look up,” his voice enters your ears. you bring your gaze up out of mild confusion, and the gasp he elicits out of you is not just out of surprise.

right as you lift your head, he plunges his cock straight into your awaiting hole, straight away hitting the deepest part of you. what you didn’t expect however, is the mirror that sits adjacent to the bed, reflecting the obscene view of you getting railed by a ghostface from behind.

“f-fuck!” your sweet little cry causes his cock to twitch inside, a rough grunt ripping out from his throat. he barely gives you time to accommodate to his size - then again you don’t think you need any. you’re already dripping so much that his dick can easily mold your pussy to the shape of him.

“you’re so tight,” he starts thrusting in and out, cock dragging against your insides in the most delicious way. the needy moan you let out is high-pitched, a keening sound that echoes around the room.

“you love getting fucked like this, huh? love getting ruined by masked men?” he sneers through clenched teeth, one of his arms reaching to hold you captive by the throat and the other slipping under your shirt to keep a possessive hold around your waist.

zaps of pleasure form at the base of your spine, your toes curling from the pure desire coursing through you. your filthy, desperate noises only grow louder when he picks up the pace, bullying his cock into your cunt just as desperately.

“pleasepleaseplease—“ you sob through the tightening of his lithe fingers around your throat, clamping down on him as you choke on the slight lack of air.

you grip onto his forearm like it’s your lifeline, back arching as you can feel yourself getting into the precipice of your climax. the sound of skin slapping against skin bounces off the walls, the loud squelching of your pussy sending your mind into overdrive.

your eyes become heavily lidded, but you hold yourself back from closing them as you both continue to watch in the mirror, the unsettling look of the ghostface mask only adding to the tingling in your stomach.

“that’s it, baby. look at you. so pretty, so perfect,” he murmurs against your ear, clearly enjoying the debauched expression on your face. “gonna fucking destroy this pussy till you cum so hard around my cock, yeah? not even that pathetic excuse of a guy downstairs can wreck you as bad as i do,"

“yes, yes, only you, please wanna cum - mmnghfuck, please,” you slur, incoherent babbles beginning to fill your mouth as the the coil in your stomach draws taut.

he’s hitting all the right spots inside you, ones you didn’t even know existed, and the glimpse of the creamy ring around the base of his cock in the mirror from how much you’re gushing only gets you closer and closer to the edge.

his hand presses deeper into the soft dip of your waist, hints of red dents making their way onto your skin as he slams into you harder and faster. soon enough, the tightening in your gut snaps, your body trembling in his hold with a shattered, wanton sound.

“so fucking good for me,” he growls, feeling your pussy squeeze down on him as he chases his own impending climax. a few thrusts after and he’s stilling his hips, burying himself as deep as he can with a broken moan. warmth spills inside you, filling you to the brim as your pussy clenches down to milk him for what he’s worth.

the both of you heavily pant as you’re coming down from your high, flushed red from exhaustion and icky from the sweat through your clothes plus the bodily fluids dripping down where you two are still joined together.

your eyes, clouded and hazy, trails to the mirror in front of you. chest heaving, your mind turns dizzy as you stare at the ghostface, both of his hands slowly dropping to your hips.

one second your weight is fully leaned back against him, and the next you’re suddenly thrown onto the sheets, a depraved mewl slipping past your lips when your hole is suddenly emptied, thick globs of your mixed cum freely seeping out of your pussy.

he hovers above you, and your heartbeat quickens when he promptly reaches a hand to his face, grabbing the bottom of the mask to pull it off and toss it away.

dark ivy strands and teal eyes greet you, his hand ruffling the hair to somehow fix his disheveled appearance. “rin…” you breathe out, cheeks tinting with a darker crimson.

your eyes lock, something akin to that familiar connection you’ve always had with the striker clinks into place. “i knew it was you,” you mutter.

you knew from the very first time your eyes laid on him tonight, and you’d confirmed it when he’d first uttered a word to you.

his eyes gleam under the dim light of the room, and he closes the distance between you again as he reaches down to strip himself off the hoodie, toned chest and abdomen from all his rigorous soccer training coming into view.

“good. because i’m gonna fuck you without the mask this time,”

ghostface!rin art by @/akatsuha on tt.

never posted two smuts in a row before dawg this is Not me

also not gonna elaborate on how rin even had the mask in the first place :p some ppl forced it onto him maybe (spoiler it’s bcsg)

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[hsunrry]

best i’ve ever had // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: you asked your best friend for unusual favor.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~1,1k

warnings: smut18+, praise, oral (m receiving)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you laid down on his bed on your back, closing your eyes, when you felt him laying down just on top of you with his whole weight, nuzzling his face in your neck. he’s your best friend since forever and you two are practically inseparable. “i’m tired.” he mumbled. you chuckled softly at his words.

“Harry?” you spoke after few seconds, thinking he fell asleep. he lifted his head up to look at you with sleepy expression. “we’re best friends for so long.” you hesitated for a moment. “can i have a weird request? you don’t have to agree.”

“anything, you know that.” he nodded slowly, lowering his face back to your neck, his hot breath causing goosebumps on your skin. “what is it?”

“so you know, when i was with this guy few months ago…” you started, chuckling right after. “god, this is so stupid.” he lifted his head up to look at you with confused expression.

“i’m sure it’s not, whatever it is, just say it.” he shrugged, poking your side. he went back to nuzzle into your neck.

“okay, so, when i was with him and i was giving him a head he was like… quiet? i don’t know, he came, obviously and he was telling me he was enjoying it, so i don’t know if it’s just some, uh, preference of mine that i like when guy is loud durning that and he just wasn’t the loud type, or if i’m just not good enough at it to make him loud.” you swallowed quietly.

“oh.” his face still in your neck. “you’re asking me if it’s normal that guy is quiet durning that?” he summarised.

“no, i’m just wondering if i’m good enough at it or if i’m that bad he wasn’t satisfied to even make a sound.” you shrugged. he lifted his head up to look at you.

“so, you want me to?…” he bit inside of his cheek nervously, looking at you expectantly.

“you don’t have to agree if it’s stupid for you and if you think it’ll change anything between us.” you said quickly. he looked at you for long moment, his expression soft and reassuring.

“it won’t change anything between us.” he said gently with a soft shrug. “i want to help you figure it out. i’ll be brutally honest.” he chuckled softly, but after that he went serious. “but only if you’re completely sure you want to do that. i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or awkward.”

“don’t worry about it, i won’t.” you chuckled. he smiled slightly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“okay then.” he sat up, standing up from the bed right after. “give me a minute.” he said, walking out from the room, probably to the bathroom. after few minutes he came back, his face slightly flushed. he sat down next to you. “okay, i washed myself.” he smiled. “i want you to do exactly what you did with him, okay?”

“yeah, got it.” you said with soft smile. “can you lay down then?” he nodded, laying down on his bed. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“okay, i’m ready.” he said softly, trying to mask his nervousness with a smile.

“are you sure?” you asked last time.

“yes, i’m sure.” his voice firm, his eyes never leaving yours. “i promise, i’ll be honest and i won’t hold back anything.” he took deeper breath, preparing himself for what was about to happen. you took off his sweatpants, leaving him only in boxers. he looked down at himself, his heart racing in his chest. “okay…” he whispered, his eyes flicking back to meet yours. “go ahead.” he said, his voice trembling slightly. he inhaled sharply when you started palming him over thin material. “mhm.” he let out quiet moan. “it’s already good, y/n and you’re not doing much right now.” he muttered.

“is it?” you smiled softly, taking off his boxers when you felt he was rock hard and going to kneel between his thighs. he spread his legs wider in response, giving you more room to work with.

“you look so good like that.” he complimented, his voice already hoarse. you smiled softly, loving the fact that he was praising you and that he was giving you better reactions already than the guy you were with before. you wrapped your hand around his hardened flesh, starting to stroke slowly. your thumb went to spread pre-cum on his tip. his head fell back against the headboard and quiet groan escaped his lips as you stroked him. “oh fuck, y/n…” he gasped, his hips rocking slightly into your hand. “your hand feel good, so good.” his hands gripped the sheets slightly. you went down with your head, starting circling his tip with your tongue. he jolted at the sensation and he whimpered. his one hand went into your hair. “please, more.” satisfied with his reactions, you wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking slightly and working with your tongue inside your mouth. his hips bucking slightly as you sucked on his cock. “fuck, y/n.” he gasped, his fingers tightening in your hair. “yes, just like that.” he moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as you went deeper on him, sucking and stroking the part you couldn’t reach with your mouth. his noises went more desperate. “your mouth feels incredible.” he panted, his free hand gripped the headboard behind his head. “you love sucking my cock, don’t you? such a good girl…” you moaned around him at his words, loving the comments and noises he was making. you started moving even faster, hollowing your cheeks inside to bring him even more pleasure. he cried out, his head snapping against headboard. “yes, yes, just like that! fuck, y/n, i’m getting close, so close!” he warned, gripping your hair slightly tighter. “don’t stop, please, don’t stop. i’m gonna cum.” you started moving even faster at his words. he let out loud, drawn-out moan, his body tensing as his hot sprouts went down your throat. he panted your name few times as his body shuddered with pleasure. you sucked him slowly through his orgasm, licking him clean and swallowing everything. he collapsed on the bed, his chest heaving with each breath. a lazy, satisfied smile spread across his face. “holy shit, that was incredible.” he murmured, his hand stroking gently through your hair. “you’re amazing, y/n. i don’t know what was wrong with this guy.”

“really?” you smiled, laying down next to him. he pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

“yes, really.” he nuzzled into your hair. “that was the best blowjob i’ve ever had. hands down.”

“i’m glad i wasn’t the problem then.” you chuckled softly.

“you’re definitely not the problem, darling.”

[simpforpeterp]

stanford pines x reader

Holidays

“I should’ve had kids with you.”

summary: in which ford reminisces and thinks about what could’ve been and what once was

warnings: gender neutral reader mostly but there’s a line about you having his kids so take that as you will

word count: 1.2k

notes: halloween is over which means some festive ish things like this are coming!!

The words fell from his lips as if they held less weight than his usual late night words he shared with you.

“I should’ve had kids with you.”

He breathed the sentence into your neck as he got comfortable in the bed you share. It was a warm sigh that made your eyes widen as his arms moved around your waist.

You snap out of the tired trance you were in as you look at him. He’s an older version of the man you fell in love with at nineteen. The wrinkles by his eyes and slight signs of aging almost make you happy because he just looks so cute growing old with you.

After everything with the portal, you never thought your husband would come back to you. When Stan took over his identity, you were fake married to Stan. You didn’t kiss or do anything married people do other than taxes so it obviously didn’t fill the Ford-shaped hole in your heart.

When Ford came back, you were a wreck. Things hadn’t exactly ended well. You snapped just days before the portal incident. He had pushed you away and you saw him less and less so seeing him again brought back all the feelings of neglect and abandonment. But he slowly crept his way back into your heart, how could he not?

He still has that same sweet smile and the same eyes. So you worked it out. And now he spends more time with you because being away from you proved to him even more than before that he loved you. God, he loved you. His heart beats for you. He married you, for fucks sake.

He never thought he’d ever even get married. When his father gave him his suit for his wedding, he assumed he’d wear it to accept a nobel prize. Then there he was in that suit, promising you forever in front of all of your friends and family.

He missed you so badly while he was gone and he swore he would find his way back to you. To your arms, your lips, that smile that could kill him. He loves you.

“I should’ve settled down with you instead of going along with Bill. I should’ve given you babies and built you a bigger house. I wish I gave my life to you in more apparent ways.” He says, pressing a soft and quick kiss to your neck to really feel your presence. Your skin is soft and he breathes in again, feeling like his heart is completely and utterly safe with you.

You don’t know what to say. Your fingers freeze in his hair as you think about his words. His soft and quiet confession about what he wishes happened. And then you both begin silently thinking about what did happen. And that leads to mourning what could have been.

“I know it might be dumb but I think about it a lot. You know, what it would’ve been like to settle down with you. I think about picket fences and kids and holidays. I like Mabel’s philosophy on holidays. I like to think that’s how things would be at our house. We celebrate all holidays. Winter would’ve been especially fun for our kids, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, every holiday.” He muses.

You’re silent for a moment, just listening to him talk, feeling his words wrap around you like a warm blanket. His voice is softer than you’re used to, almost reverent, as he talks about the life you could have had together. And with each word, you feel that old ache start to surface, the one that you thought you’d buried years ago.

Being completely honest, there was a point in your life where the baby-fever overtook you. You wanted a baby with your husband. You wanted the life he described. But then you came to your senses. Ford isn’t that kind of man and you didn’t want him to be. You loved the man he was. You still do. And your heart was never swayed completely one way or the other. So you let it go and you never came back to it because you were happy.

Even now, there’s no bitterness. Just that quiet sadness, a gentle ache that’s soothed by the feeling of his arms around you, his hand gently rubbing your back as he continues.

“I can picture it so clearly, a little girl with your eyes and my stubborn streak,” He says, his voice catching on the thought. “Or maybe a boy who’d want to be just like you. Who’d look at you the way I do—like you’re the whole world.”

You can’t help but wonder if he thinks about this often, if he lets these thoughts creep in late at night, the way you sometimes do. There’s something both comforting and heartbreaking about knowing you’re not alone in that.

After a moment, you brush a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence beside you, grounding you.

“Ford,” You whisper, gently tracing the lines on his face, “You don’t mean that. It’s a nice thought. It really is. I would’ve loved to have that life with you. Kids, Christmas, fences. I would’ve had your kids in an instant if you wanted that. But you didn’t because you love your job and that’s enough for you. And you being happy was enough for me.”

He leans into your touch, eyes closing as if he’s absorbing the truth of your words.

“I know,” He murmurs. “I just…I wanted to give you so much more. More than this little cottage, more than my late-night ramblings and scars and regrets. You deserved a quieter life, one without…all the running, the danger. You deserved a less flighty husband who finds god in a cave and causes the end of the world.”

“But this is the life we have,” You remind him, gently tilting his chin up so he has to look at you. “And you’re here. That’s all I ever wanted. All those things you’re talking about—the picket fences, the holidays—they’re nice. But this is what we have, and it’s enough for me.”

His hand finds yours, fingers threading through with a familiar warmth. He looks at you for a long moment, his expression softening, as if seeing you for the first time all over again. And he feels it again going through his heart that he’s so in love with you. His heart is always gonna belong to you.

“You’re enough for me too,” He says, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a while, you both lay there in a comfortable silence, each lost in your thoughts, holding onto each other as if to prove that you’re here, that you found your way back from everything that tried to tear you apart.

“You know, maybe it’s not too late to have some of that. Maybe we don’t need the picket fence, but we could still make our own traditions. We could…we could still have holidays like Mabel would. Just you and me, celebrating everything.” He speaks up.

“Well, then, Happy Holidays, my love.” You press a quick kiss to his nose and everything in him warms for you.

“Happy Holidays, my darling.”

[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 5

James Potter x Reader

Summary: The search for your mystery suitor draws to a close as you finally make an advance on your lovesick admirer…

Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, some subtle wolfstar action in the background, idiots in love, oc!friends, lovesick!james, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, secret admirer trope, strangers to friends to lovers, James gets his confidence back, aggressive flirting, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 2.6K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Hi boys, hi Jamie!” James almost fell off his chair, gripping the table and steadying himself. Sirius snorted at the flustered boy, stumbling and flailing at the nickname.

You had approached the Marauders that morning with books piled in hand, fulfilling Remus’ offer to study with them once again that weekend. With Charlie and Hope using their free time to visit Hogsmeade, you were left to flirt with the young Potter all you desired.

You had told your friends about the growing suspicion surrounding the boy that morning, and James was about to find out just how dedicated you were to the investigation.

James watched you eagerly, eyes wide at the sight of you sitting next to him once again. “Hi, love,” he sighed, still staring in awe at your freshly washed hair and bright smile. While he tried to match your style with the affectionate nickname, his voice was laced with shaking nerves as he sought that courage that came so naturally around other girls.

The other boys were openly snickering at his lovestruck face, assuming you had caught onto James’ enamoured gestures by now. Remus pushed the History of Magic textbook between the two of you, though he didn’t say a word about actually using it. He was far too fascinated with the promising tension developing between you and his friend.

“I’ve been having the most eventful week, lads,” you began, motioning for the boys to lean in closer, with James inching his chair across to touch yours. “Someone in this school has been sending me love letters.”

After a beat of shock, all four boys started rambling exclamations of surprise and curiosity, as if they didn’t already know about your secret admirer. James gulped at your confession, mentally cursing himself for waiting just too long to react naturally. “Oh, really! That’s news! Do you, um…have any idea who it is?”

You met the boy’s gaze and whispered, “I have my theories…I mean, so far we’ve deduced it’s a boy with high intelligence, a good heart, and a crippling obsession over me.” James’ breath hitched, eyes flickering from yours to Remus’, before landing back at you.

“Well, I can’t blame him love! Who wouldn’t be obsessed with a pretty thing like you,” Sirius smirked, “In fact, I have some theories of my own about who this boy could be…”

“Well, my suspects have been narrowed down to about five Gryffindor boys, and I’m really hoping it’s the cutest one,” you held back a giggle at James’ parted lips. He prayed to Merlin that you could possibly consider him an option, let alone think that he’s the one you found the most attractive.

“But to be honest, with the way he writes about me I think I’d jump him the second he reveals himself to me, handsome or not,” you said noncommittally.

In that moment, James threw all his reservations out the window. He no longer cared if you noticed his obsession with you, the lingering stares, the flustered reactions. He wanted all of you, and he just had to do something about it. There was no point in letting his nerves dictate his behaviour around you, not after you had just given him the James Potter Flirting Experience™ opportunity of a lifetime.

“Well, say you did care about what the boy looks like…what’s your type?” James leaned closer to you, a softened grin lingering on his lips as he spoke teasingly.

You gasped, clearly shocked by his sudden change of behaviour, but responded nonetheless. “Oh I don’t know, probably…” you looked James up and down, slowly taking in his form.

“Someone tall and athletic. I definitely prefer kind boys, but he can have a little mischief to him. Probably someone with darker hair- make that curly dark hair. Light brown eyes have always caught my fancy, oh! And I love a good pair of glasses, especially when they come with a big brain and a handsome face behind them.”

James was only inches away from your face now, his small smile had grown into a stretching, flirtatious grin, smirking at you with red cheeks. His hair was curling around his smitten face as he bent to meet your eyes, forearms crossed and resting on the table.

Three mouths hung open at the explicit display of attraction in front of them, eyes sliding back and forth between you and James, as if following a thread of affection forming between you two.

“Well, are there any boys on your list that might…match that description?” Peter squeaked to break the tense silence. You held James’ gaze in your own, smiling innocently at the boy like you hadn’t just made his entire week.

“There is one, he’s my primary suspect. Though, I’m not sure there’s much evidence to prove it’s him sending me the letters…” You broke his gaze, finally looking around at the other curious faces surrounding you. “It could just be wishful thinking.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

After finally making some productive efforts to study, you and the boys began claiming your belongings that were scattered across the table and making your way to dinner.

Walking down the hallway, James matched your pace and gazed at you through his thick lenses. “So, I know you and your friends normally sit at the end of the table during meals, but we were wondering if you lot wanted to sit with us tonight,” he quickly explained as the Great Hall came into view. “I…we really enjoy your company, and honestly we regret not befriending you sooner.”

Remus and Sirius had their backs turned to you and James, though you had a feeling they were quietly giggling together at his attempted invite. “Only if your friends agree, of course! No pressure…” he trailed off, looking anywhere but your eyes as his constant fear of rejection returned and sparked nervousness in his unsure voice.

“I’d love to sit with you! I mean, all of you. I’ll grab my friends,” you replied as the doors to the hall opened and you made your way inside.

“Brilliant.”

Scurrying over to your friends, you cleared your throat and made your announcement. “My dearest, loyal companions. For one night, and one night only…can we PLEASE sit with the Marauders? I think James and I are really making some progress here and they’re honestly not that bad!” Ok, maybe more of a blurted confession than an announcement, but the intention was there.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it, if it means so much to one of my best friends. But what happened to the Gryffindor ego that seems to follow those boys around everywhere they go?” Charlie asked, a tinge of confusion lacing her giggling voice.

“I haven’t quite figured that bit out yet, but I think there’s more to them than meets the eye. They’re actually quite lovely,” you explained, watching your friends slowly stand from their places at the table and fall into step with you, plates in hand, agreeing in their trust of your judgement.

“You know,” Hope whispered as you approached the group, “I’m really proud of you. You’re opening up, it’s refreshing to see. And you’re starting to convince me that this house might actually be not so bad, after all. You’re really brave.”

You grinned at the girl, arm taking her shoulders in your grasp and squeezing in appreciation. “That means a lot, Hope, thank you.”

“Hey! We didn’t think you’d come!” Remus exclaimed as the three of you piled into the space saved next to James. “Although, James did get you a plate of food in anticipation.”

You glanced at the boy’s bashful smile, then down at the plate he placed in front of you. Charlie, Hope, and the remaining Marauders shared knowing looks.

“Oh! This is my favourite! How did you-“

“I see you take a serving every night-“

“Thank you, Jamie, you’re so kind…”

The nickname came to you naturally as your rambling distracted you from considering what you were saying. His cheeks glowed with that familiar red tint, grinning at you with squinted eyes and a puffed chest.

The conversation carried naturally between James’ friends and your own, all giggling and smiling at each other’s witty remarks. As the night continued, you found yourself slowly leaning more into James, a service to his heart which he gratefully accepted with open arms.

His arm moved to rest across your back, hand pressed into the seat beside you and inching you slightly forward on your chair, a position that almost mimicked an embrace without being too daring.

You felt warm near his toned chest, glancing at him affectionately every now and then. You missed every time he glanced back with that same lovesick expression.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask! Seeing as we have a curfew for the next few days, and the History of Magic assignment is due next week, I thought you might want to pop by our dorm to study sometime.” Remus had been such a supportive new friend towards you over the past few days, intentional or not, so you nodded eagerly at his proposition.

Walking back to your dorm after a long dinner filled with laughs and smiles, you and your friends wished the others goodnight as you parted ways. Your eyes lingered on James, as his did you, before turning to your group with a smile. The silence only lasted a matter of seconds.

“OH MY GOD HE’S OBSESSED WITH YOU!”

“Charlie! Keep your voice down!”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James started jogging to keep up with Peter and Sirius as they left the grounds of Hogwarts. Escaping the school was a three man job, much to James’ disappointment. Remus was left in the dorm to study with you, meaning he was obligated to join the trip. What could be more important than spending time with you?

“C’mon, Prongs, head up! You can get some sweets to woo her with on our way back,” Sirius reassured him. The days spent studying with you meant the group had missed the school allowed trip to Hogsmeade, something James insisted would be worth sacrificing every butterbeer for.

“We’ll be quick, I promise! You know I can’t survive without sugar in my system!” Sirius continued rambling as the three entered Honeydukes just before closing.

James quickly gathered a bag of chocolate frogs, buying way too many for just one person so he’d have an excuse for offering them to you. They quickly payed and dashed out of the store as the workers began to turn off the lights and lock the doors.

The walk back to Hogwarts was cold and windy, but James didn’t care. He’d get to spend time with you in the comfort of his own room, all the people he cared the most about in one place. He was planning how he would confess to you on the way back, playing out every scenario in his mind.

The best case in his imagination was simply holding up a blue envelope, wiggling his eyebrows, and grinning at you like a fool while you jumped into his arms and kissed him to death.

James had a stupid look of burning adoration on his face as the three finally entered the common room and headed to their dorm.

“Honey, I’m home!” Sirius called to Remus as he opened the door. “We brought necessary supplies and-“ He was cut short by the sight in front of him. Slowly, he inched further into the room, rounding the corner and letting Peter in with a gasp. Peter then made room for James in the doorway, glancing at him with sympathy.

The chocolate frogs dropped to the floor.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The night was quiet in the Marauders’ dorm room. Remus had taken his seat on his bed as you were sat at his desk. The soft scribbling sounds of pen against paper filled the otherwise silent space as the two of you enjoyed the warmth of your newfound friendship.

After a few hours of comparing notes, quizzing each other, and chatting about your friends, Remus stood from his bed. “I might go get changed and wash up, you need anything?”

You glanced at your almost empty pot of ink, then to the fading pigment leaking from your quill. “Do you have any spare ink?”

“I don’t have any, but James definitely would. He wouldn’t mind you using it, Merlin, he’d probably thank you for touching his possessions. Try his desk over there,” he nodded across the room, leaving you to search for supplies with a chuckle.

Moving to James’ desk, you carefully shifted through his neatly organised stationary. Textbooks lined the point where the desk met the wall, and you spotted an unopened bottle of ink right next to the stack.

As you reached for the bottle, you noticed something sticking out of the closest textbook, one for your shared Potions class. The paper was dusted in a light blue shade.

You shouldn’t look through other people’s belongings, you thought, and bit back the curiosity nipping at your integrity.

You turned back to Remus’ desk, ink in hand, knocking the textbooks over in the process.

“Godric! So clumsy…” you mumbled, picking up two textbooks, a few pages of notes and…a baby blue envelope.

You stared at the material in your hand, brain refusing to believe what your heart knew to be true. Your eyes slowly drifted from the envelope in one hand to the notes in the other. The stationary, the handwriting, the nervous interactions…it all made sense.

“Honey, I’m home! We brought necessary supplies and-“ Your eyes met the source of the sound, Sirius standing in the doorway with his mouth agape. He slowly entered the room, followed by Peter, then by James.

Your face glowed with a guilty expression as James dropped his most recent purchase. You stared at him in confusion, which he returned with a look of embarrassment. You then remembered to address the elephant in the room: the envelope in your hand.

“Oh, Merlin, James- I’m so sorry! I ran out of ink and Remus said you wouldn’t mind if I used yours while he went to wash up, so I took it and knocked over all your books in the process, it slid out and I didn’t know what to do, it’s all my fault! I’m so sorry, I didn’t want it to happen like this…”

James’ expression shifted sympathetically at your rambling, composing himself and moving closer to your worried form. The other boys quietly walked back out of the room, giving you some privacy as they shut the door behind them.

“No, darling, don’t blame yourself, it’s not your fault,” he said with faltering confidence, “I meant to tell you, I really did. I was going to talk to you after my next Quidditch match - assuming we would win - because I needed the confidence to tell you. I’m so sorry, love, I really am. I hope you aren’t…disappointed…” he looked at his shoes, voice nothing more than a whisper.

“Did you mean it?”

“W-what?”

“Everything you wrote to me, did you mean it?” You clarified, a hopeful feeling washing over you. James gulped, shifting his weight between his feet as he blushed harder than ever before. “I meant every word.” It came out as a hoarse whisper as he choked on his nerves.

“Good, because I really like you, James. I honestly always have and I hadn’t even said a word to you until this year- But I desperately wanted to believe you were behind all of this, because I think you’re so charming and smart and, surprisingly, very kind.” You caught your breath after your confession, heart racing as a proud, self-assured smile emerged on your otherwise shy face.

Silence fell upon the room. You searched each other’s gaze for any evidence of ingenuity or doubt. You found none. James eventually made a sound from his parted lips.

“Willyougooutwithme!?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

AN: Oh my god this is a long one! But you KNOW I had to make some serious progress on this relationship >:3 I hope this reveal hit the spot! I’m going to be a bit busy over the next few days but I’ll definitely try to post the next part ASAP (as soon as I’ve written it ;-;) Again I’d just like to say thank you so much for all the love on this series! This is my first real writing project in a while so it’s been a blessing to have so much support so early on in my blog’s lifetime <3 Be sure to comment to be added to the tag list and like/reblog if you enjoyed!!

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Tag List:

@1-queenofpotatoes-1

@caspiankingofnarnia

@thesuitelifeofafangirl

@moonydoodlez

@fionnalopez

@kawaiiarbitervoid

@kc2sstuff

@rafeyswrd

@mads12043

@spicybearnaise

@ch3rry-vine

@probabydeadbynow

@ilovejamespottersomuch

@mqg125

@sofiacblair

[fenxshiral]

Yeah, I'm trying to give this game a fair shot, but so far I'm not impressed. So far, the game in a vacuum isn't bad. The problem is that *by bioware standards* this is bad. Not gonna spoil anything, btw.

Dialogue is very… not good. It feels stilted, forced. Like dialogue written by a DM who’s new to DnD, or a college creative writing student writing a story they don't care about. This does not feel like dialogue written by Bioware, it feels like dialogue written by a new studio stocked with inexperience writers, or by a studio that’s never made a story driven game before. I wouldn’t necessarily classify the writing as *bad* so much as it’s amateurish. I know that most of the writing team is completely new for Veilguard, as most of the old guard has left or been let go from Bioware - but unfortunately it really shows. While I had my problems with DA2 and Inquisition, dialogue in the previous three games was tight and flowed naturally. It felt like dialogue written by seasoned pros who really knew how to make characters feel natural. This feels off in the way that only rushed or amateur writing can feel off. And it’s not an issue with voice acting - even though that isn’t the greatest either in some parts (but that’s another discussion) - it’s very much an issue with the quality of the writing. People accept things they shouldn’t, they question things they shouldn’t. This is dialogue written by people who don’t take the time (or don’t care) to think about how characters will think, feel or react. It’s dialogue written for the purpose of getting from point A to point B rather than to actually engage with the story and the world.  Again, not necessarily *bad* but it’s certainly not good. Maybe this is early game woes and the story struggles to get off the ground. I’ll revisit this later if the dialogue quality changes or stays the same.  

Character introductions are very lazy. So far every single character introduction has been the character popping out of nowhere to destroy something or to just Be there. It’s very lazy writing and I expect better of a studio with the pedigree of Bioware. I would accept this quality of writing from a new studio, but not a studio like Bioware that has shown they can do *much* better. It’s also very rushed. I don’t get to explore an area before the game goes “HERES A NEW CHARACTER WE WON’T DESCRIBE ENOUGH ABOUT FOR YOU TO CARE ABOUT THEM OKAY BYE.” So far the game has been cutscene simulator that has combat and dialogue tacked onto it. And not in a good way.

This is the quality of writing I’d expect from a Bethesda game, not a Bioware game. Again, not bad in a vacuum, but by Bioware standards, this quality of writing is atrocious. And to be completely honest - after the absolute dumpster fires that were Anthem and Andomeda, they really can't afford to release a game with 10+ years of hype behind it and have it be anything less than spectacular.

I really hope this game gets better in quality. Because so far, it's worse than inquisition in many respects and while Inquisition was better than DA2 it was still inferior to Origins in many ways.

I desperately want to give this game a fair shake because I've been enamored with this series ever since I first played Origins back in 2009. So we'll see.

[whiteferraristurns]

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ⚠︎︎ none. no use y/n. fluff

Bri ༯ rapper chris!!👅

reblogs, likes and comments are heavily appreciated ᥫ᭡

Late Night in the Studio

The hum of the city faded into the background as you entered the studio, a small black bag clutched in your hand. The dim, moody lights cast a soft glow over the walls lined with platinum records, awards, and Chris's signature graffiti art—raw, messy, undeniably his. The faint scent of sandalwood and vanilla drifted from the candles flickering on the windowsill, the only soft contrast to the electric energy in the room. The space felt familiar, yet every time you entered, the charged energy made you feel like you were stepping into another world.

It was late—later than you would have preferred to be out on a Thursday night—but Chris had insisted, and you couldn’t deny the pull his voice held over you. You were used to the chaos that came with his life, the late-night calls and the constant tug-of-war between your schedules. But something about tonight felt different.

You leaned against the doorway watching how the pink lights lit up his features perfectly. “You look like you’re thinking hard over there,” Chris turned, adjusting his headphones before pulling them down to hang around his neck. He shot you that lazy grin that always made you feel like you were the only person in the room. 

“Just wondering why you’ve got me out here at midnight,” you teased, your  lips pulling up into a smile. “Don’t you ever sleep?” Chris shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets with that lazy, too-cool look he always wore. “Can’t sleep when I’ve got inspiration running through me. You should know that by now.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a seat on the leather couch that stretched against the wall. It was worn and cracked, but you’d spent enough time here that it almost felt like home. “So I’m here to be your muse?” You arched an eyebrow, teasing, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the warmth his words brought.

Chris didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers ran over the soundboard, tweaking a few settings as he let the beat play softly in the background. He shot you a glance over his shoulder, his eyes dark and serious. “Actually, yeah. This one’s got your name all over it.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and full of meaning. Your heart skipped, but you tried to play it cool, tilting your head with a small smile. “You really expect me to believe you wrote a whole song about me?”

He nodded, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “It’s wouldn't be the first one”

Your mouth went dry. You knew he poured his life into his music, but the idea that he’d written about you was something else. You glanced away, biting your lip to hide the mix of emotions swirling inside you. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Don’t say anything,” he murmured, leaning against the soundboard as he met your gaze. “Just… listen.” Chris hit play, and the room filled with a steady, soulful beat, layered with smooth guitar riffs that softened the intensity of the bassline. Then his voice cut through, raw and honest, each line hitting like a confession.

“She’s the pulse that keeps me steady, when the world’s too loud to bear. She’s the reason why I’m breathing, even when there’s smoke in the air.”

The lyrics rolled over you, each word hitting deeper than you’d expected. You breath caught as you heard the pain, the longing, the way he seemed to reach for you through every line. It wasn’t just a song. It was a part of him—a part of your bond. You listened, your hand messing the necklace he had gotten you for your birthday. As his voice continued, weaving a story of nights you’d spent together, of whispered words in dim rooms, of a connection that neither of you knew how to define.

“She’s the storm that keeps me grounded, the spark behind every verse,” he rapped, his voice deep and resonant, each word laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “When I’m lost in this world, she pulls me down to earth.”

The track finally faded into silence, you blinked, realizing your eyes were damp. You hadn’t even noticed the tears pooling, too wrapped up in the emotion of it all.

“Chris…” you started, but words failed you. How could you tell him that you felt it too, that every time he left for another city or hit the stage, you were there with him, a part of your  heart stitched into every lyric?

He crossed the room, sitting beside you on the couch, his knee brushing against yours. The air between you both was thick with things unsaid, but his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“It’s not easy, you know?” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “Balancing all this. Sometimes, I don’t know how much longer I can keep pulling you into this world.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words sink in. You’d always known that dating Chris meant sacrifice, meant that your time was often borrowed and fleeting. But the thought of letting him go was harder than you wanted to admit.

“You’re not pulling me anywhere, Chris,” you whispered back, your hand reaching out to brush his. “I’m here because I want to be.”

For a moment, he looked away, his jaw tight. You knew that look—he wore it when he was fighting back something deeper, something vulnerable. You reached out, your hand resting on his, grounding him. Slowly, he turned back to you, his fingers threading through yours.

“What if it’s too much?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse. “What if… I’m too much?”

You shook her head, squeezing his hand. “You could never be too much, Chris. You’re just… everything.”

Your words hung in the air, soft and steady, the truth of them lingering between you. And in that moment, you felt like you were finally laying your cards on the table, every piece of your heart exposed. You leaned forward, closing the gap between you two, your lips brushing his in a gentle, tender kiss that held everything you couldn’t put into words.

When you pulled away, he held you close, his forehead resting against yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you stayed like that, just breathing, just existing in the same space.

“I don’t know where this is going,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “but I want to figure it out with you.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle in her heart. “We’ll figure it out, one verse at a time.”

And as you sat together in the dim studio, surrounded by his music, you knew that whatever happened, you’d face it together—through the highs, the lows, and everything in between. Because no matter what, you had each other, and that was enough.

Bri ༯ short n’ sweet. please tell how this was I lowk hate it😭

more fic’s will be out soon I just thought I’d post this one now since it’s been sitting in my drafts since the day after the video

T͙A͙G͙L͙I͙S͙T͙ ᡣ𐭩

@sturniqloo @iillovechris @themotherofmattschildren @chrislilcumslvt @ghostlyplug @mattsfavginger @chrissturnioloenthusiastforlife @ncm9696 @starfuckoff @heartz4matt

[esggs]

Accurate!Gojo Satoru has been trying his level hardest the past half an hour and yet–and yet– he just cannot get it up.

Pretty dress, gorgeous. Can I take a closer look? Dashing man, albino hair and teeth stained red, black, green, blue under the club lighting. Angelic. Preferably back at my place? 

“You’ll have a good time, my ass.” Gojo imagines you mocking him in your head. Deservedly, he’ll grant, he did talk up a big game, all the teasing and squeezing and grinding and kissing up until he actually had to perform. 

“Should I go down on you again? That seemed to help.” Your smile makes his face burn even more. So sweet, so genuinely helpful. 

“Yeah…” 

Your hair brushes his thighs as you lean down to softly thumb down his foreskin off the tip, pressing kisses to his length and baby-licks against the slit. It feels really fucking good; Gojo can’t help groaning at the first contact, it’s just– 

What? What is it? You’re dripping sex on legs, hotter than he deserves– the cowlick at your nape, the blush on your cleavage, the juicy fat of your thighs, your drooping eyes, you get him choking on his breath. His Six Eyes tell him it’s safe, you have no hidden weapons nor ill-intentions to kill him the second he lets all his Infinity down (let’s be honest, you couldn't either way). Nor is there a sniper on a roof waiting to shoot him through the window. No recording devices, no bombs planted in this hastily-rented hotel room (not that he can stop checking every 5 minutes). So what is it?

“I’m sorry.” You abandon your efforts for a moment, looking up with those kohl-rimmed eyes. “It’s really not you, you’re gorgeous and I mean it, it’s just–” There’s no trace of the cocky playboy you assumed he was back at the club. He’s stuttering for God’s sake. “I– I just can’t relax.” 

“Ah!” It’s clearly not something you’ve ever faced before. Obviously not, man, look at her. “Um, do you want a smoke… or, uh–”

“No, sorry, I don’t smoke. Or drink. My job’s kinda hectic, so I need to be on call 24/7, always prepared, you know?” Not a lie per se. It’s just difficult to bring up that you’re the strongest jujutsu sorcerer on the planet when your disappointed one night stand doesn’t even know about jujutsu in the first place.  

“This is a first.” You cock your head at him, still smiling. “Never met anyone so high-strung they can’t even get hard, let alone smoke.”

It’s normal behaviour for 20 year old young men, especially the rich and the handsome ones such as he, to go to the club, party, pick up chicks, have wild sex, walk of shame the next morning. He’s seen it in movies. He’s heard his peers share their experiences. Just one night of normal, he’d told himself, then back to being Gojo Satoru. 

Mr. Gojo Satoru’s foray into normal human behaviours has been officially an embarrassing flop. 

“I can pay for the Uber.” There’s no saving the situation. His dick– no, penis, he decides, it doesn’t deserve an honourable name anymore. His penis doesn’t look like it'll rise to the occasion any time soon, so the best he can do is be a damn gentleman. For the sake of his manly ego, he’ll cleanse his memory of this shameful encounter. “Sorry about this.”

Maybe he should start preparing for his lessons the next day. He’s gonna teach barrier techniques. 

“Kicking me out so soon?” You joke, even though you’re already picking your bra off the floor. Not your first rodeo. “How rude of you, cute Satoru-chan.”

He giggles. “Unless you want to stay? We can Netflix and chill, literally.” Is this normal human behaviour? Looking at your smile, he realises that he doesn’t give a shit. 

“I want popcorn, extra butter.” “Okie, madam!” 

a/n: election results so bad had to write gojo being a moshi moshi schoolgirl with ed just to feel something.

[cartoonsinthemorning]

Please, I have so much love for your fem!stan, please tell me your thoughts about fem!mulletstan, or fem!drifterstan. I once read a fanfic where Filbrick kicking out Stan was just a scare tactic, I imagine he’d have the same sentiment for a female Stan as well, but he’s too prideful to go get his little girl after it backfires and she doesn’t come back home.

Meanwhile, Stan’s determined to prove she’s just as capable as any boy after years of being undermined for being born a girl! Even so, she’s not above using her feminine wiles to sling her FDA acknowledged merchandise, after all sex sells. Eventually she soon realizes that sex does indeed sell.

OOOHH Anon, tesoro, SAPESSI! You have no idea how happy your messages makes me, because you’re enabling me to YAP about my favorite topic, that I’ve been thinking about A LOT. Thank you so much! WARNING: Stancest is ALWAYS implied/established in my musings. The following lucubrations are no exception. In general, I think fem!Stan would get punished way less harshly than his canon male counterpart. Not that she’s coddled or untouchable- Constance would get hit occasionally, if she acts way out of the line, by both parents. But, I personally don’t think kicking her out would ever be a thing- not even as a threat: Given the time period/culture, the (horrible) assumption that throwing a teen boy out would not only be a punishment, but also a formative experience of sort- to make him self-sufficient- would NEVER be expected to apply to a girl. On the contrary: Constance would be perceived as someone that could NEVER be self-sufficient. Not only because she’s the “gentle sex”, but also because she’s a weird, off-putting dunce of a girl, unlikely to get picked by a wealthy enough- or even honest man that would take care and provide for her. If we were talking about a version of this universe where the machine accident happens like in canon, Constance would receive a slap across the face, as a punishment for what she did, and a particularly heated, demeaning tirade from Filbrick, imo. Now, that said--- I have two main favorite divergences, I’ve toyed with, for fem!Stan's future:

1) A version where Constance did destroy Ford’s machine, on purpose, in a fit of anger, because she’s subconsciously trying to get kicked out: rationally, she is aware how hard and scary it would be to run away from home, and that her family would look for her. But, if they HATED her, not only they wouldn’t feel bad, they’d also take the very hard decision for her, of cutting her out. But, what happens is that- they DO act like they despise her- but still, they won’t kick her out! It’s an outcome so painful and so humiliating, it’s the final straw that makes Constance snap and run away- to basically become drifter!Stan. And, Ford’s resentment and hatred, in this version, not only comes from Stan taking away his chance to go to his ideal College, but also because she abandoned him! Off to live her indecent, dangerous life with some biker- probably- when if, had she been patient for a few years- had she truly loved him as she said- Ford would had been the one to provide for her- spoil her rotten, even. Like, this is a universe where Ford was THE only eldest son, with an implicit duty to be his sister’s protector, and if you add in he’s been in love with her, too… In the 10-years-later reunion, Ford would have this incel-like feeling of pain and humiliation- because his baby sister at his door is wearing a miniskirt, and her hair is cut so short, and it’s evident she’s not that innocent anymore. But still, as tired and battered by life as she is, Constance would still NOT be begging Ford to be her savior and mer-- and let him take care of her! [Complicated incestuous tension ensues].

Version number 2) Constance accidentally destroyed Ford’s machine, just like in canon- but doesn’t get kicked out and- since she’s a girl and Ford is more protective and softer, after some silent treatment, he forgives her. And actually, he uses what happened to his advantage, to coax Constance into following him to Backupsmore: "it’s gonna take him so much more time to become successful, now that he’s relegated to that college, meaning he and Stan would end up separated so much longer! She’d have to remain at Glass Shard Beach all alone, for ages! But.. if she followed him, she could get a job, a room apartment of her own, and… nobody would know them, over there. They could even date in secret." And, Constance would hesitate, because she dreads an unfulfilling future as her brother’s accessory, but also, she is in love with him, and she inevitably internalized part of the sexism she’s been subjected to for most of her life, so… she accepts. Even pumps herself up, gaslights herself into thinking it’s gonna be a fresh, exciting new start, away from her shitty small town. And indeed… Even if the twins enjoy the relative freedom of their romance, far from home, inevitably Constance feels unsatisfied, like she just switched the background, but she’s still working as a waitress, doing nothing she truly loves, or feels good at. That’s when I like to imagine she ends up messing it up big time, by joining an MLM or something, in attempt to find her own success lmao. AND, it’s complicated, because she does find out she is actually GOOD at selling shit to people. This is her true calling! But, the business was scummy as fuck- to an illegal degree- and she ends up arrested for the first time. And, escapes from prison for the first time. Stan is a chaotic disaster, impossible to contain, in every universe. To make it short, once again the story goes back to its tracks, and Ford and Stan separate dramatically. Now, this version actually had a VERY angsty ship-focused sub-divergent version with Fiddleford involved, and a very jealous Ford. But I don’t even know if you’d be interested in that, so I’ll stop here. ++++ I do love that part of your ask, about Stan realizing she can use her sex-appeal to her advantage... To imagine her seducing people into helping her/condoning her schemes is so fucking sexy~ I will think of a specific scenario, because damn.

[unholybacon355]

Kinktober Day 28 - GP! Winter x Im Nayeon

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: Yes, I'm waaaaayyy behind my schedule for Kinktober (Like a week behind) but istg i gonna post the all 31 works.

Also I know I said no more than two stories per idol, but things happened this days and I just had to write this. So that's why nayeon is here again.

And also I apologize if this feels a bit rushed, but is the best I can get this days. With all that being said, I let you with this nonsense.

Minjeong never thought that she would need to be on her knees in order to approve this class. She came to Professor Nayeon's office to ask, or beg if necessary, for a chance to earn some extra points to increase her grade and pass her class. Minjeong was thinking of something like extra homework, a special test, maybe even doing Professor’s laundry, but nothing remotely close to being on her knees with her face buried between Nayeon’s thighs.

Nayeon was sitting on her chair with her skirt lifted to her waist, no underwear, and one leg over her desk to give Minjeong more room to work. Minjeong for her part was on her knees, caressing Nayeon’s thighs, and with her tongue as deep as she could inside her professor’s pussy.

At this time of the day almost no one left on this side of the building, but nayeon still has one hand covering her mouth and the other playing with her student's hair. Despite the low chances to be discovered, never is good having moans coming out of a professor's office. 

Minjeong obviously was doing a good job, otherwyse her face wouldn't be covered on her professor’s slick. To be honest she isn’t that good at giving head but the adrenaline of eating a professor's pussy and also saving her class in the process, is giving her all the enthusiasm she needs to eat that pussy as if it were the last meal on earth. And her effort seems to have a good result because Nayeon uses the hand that was playing with Minjeon’s hair to maintain her head in place while she orgasm and cum in Minjeong face. 

The girl has to admit that her professor’s pussy tastes so good, one of the best she's ever had. Maybe she needs to ask for assistance more often, because if this is the way to pay she has no problem with that.

“Good girl.” Nayeon was panting but still was able to speak. “ But if you had put the same amount of effort into your classes as you did into eating my pussy then you wouldn't have needed it.” Minjeong opened her mouth to protest but Nayeon cut her words. “No, no.” She said moving her index finger from side to side in a negative gesture. “We Aren't finished yet.”

“But I ate you, and made you come.”

“I say we aren’t finished yet. Get your pants down, now.” Nayeon was a good professor and never acted this bossy during class, but people know that it is better not to mess with her. She can be peaceful most of the time, but if you get her mad then you're finished. Better just get back home and take that class next semester but with another professor. Luckily for Minjeong that wasn’t her case, she always paid attention in classes and had decent grades , but shits happens and now she is here. “Don’t make me repeat it.” Nayeon's gaze was stern.

Minjeong was kinda concerned but still obeyed her teacher, but since she only mentioned her pants she only pulled off that garment. Despiste that she ate her professor’s pussy just minutes ago, this makes her feel vulnerable. Her cute white panties were on display and did almost nothing to hide her erection.

“Oh don’t tease me.” Nayeon herself pulled Minjeong’s panties down revealing her small and semi erected dick. “Much better. Now turn around.”  Nayeon gave her one of those looks that told her that was a bad idea to protest or not obey, so Minjeong turned around really confused because initially she thought Nayeon was gonna suck her dick, or at least touch it. But apparently her teacher has another plan for her. “Now bend over my desk.”

This time Minjeong didn't need to hear it twice to obey. She put her elbows on the wooden surface as she bent over the said desk. “No, no, not like that. Spread that ass for me.” This earned Nayeon a confused look from Minjeong. “Did you thought I was to touch your little weeny?” A loud laugh came from the teacher. “Come on, my hand is bigger than your dick. If you want me to touch you then earn it.”

Not waiting for Minjeong to actually do something, Nayeon espread her butthocks revealing her small wrinkle entrance. “Wha.. what…” But Minjeong’s words were cut when she felt Nayeon’s tongue doing things to her anus. Teacher's tongue was doing circles over Minjeong’s sensitive anus  showing a lot of expertise, she definitely has experience doing this.

Minjeong wants to protest but the tongue on her ass is doing things to her strength and she can't resist, so she tries to stick her ass out to help her teacher to have more access to her dirty back entrance. And Nayeon takes advantage of that by sticking her tongue inside Minjeong, pushing and opening her ass with her wet and warm muscle. 

Minjeong, far from protest, is a whimpering mess. Having a tongue inside her ass and her butthock being held by Nayeon’s big hands make her hard. Her dick is throbbing against the desk and her balls are arching.  Is so pathetic that she’s close to cum just by her teacher eating her ass.

But suddenly Minjeong's ass feels empty. She wants to protest, she wants Nayeon tongue inside her again, but instead she gets something more.

God knows from where Nayeon takes a lotion bottle and pours some lotion on her hand, then her hands lands again on Minjeong’s ass. But this time instead of spreading her cheeks she massaged her anus. That little entrance is already so stimulated that nayeon easily slid a finger inside Minjeong. The girl is kinda hypnotized by her teacher actions because she don’t even think about to protest, even when she normally don’t get her ass fucked. The power nayeon has over her is so that Minjeon is now spreading her own butthocks to help her teacher. Maybe that gives her some more points.

“You’re hard but my hand is still bigger.” Nayeon laughs in her ear, finally touching Minjeong dick, and what she says is true. Girl’s dick is as hard as it can be but Nayeon's hand is easily covering it with balls included. In some way that makes Minjeong arousal go to the sky.

Another finger goes inside Minjeong anus. She already feel filled but Nayeon thing is time to really fuck her ass, so she start moving her fingers. Now both Nayeon’s hands are pleasuring Minjeong, one inside her ass and the other stroking her dick. Or most like grabbing and twitching her shaft while making fun of her size.

“You take my fingers so well. What a good girl you’re.” The mix between the compliment and the jokes about her size were really doing things to Minjeong. “If you take another finger I’ll allow you to cum. Want you?”

Minjeong's first response was a pathetic loud whimper. “I… I don’t Th-think I can take another.” Nayeon's hand leaves her dick and that makes her sad, but the other hand stays inside her anus. “Please, please. lee-t me cum.”

“Then be a good girl and take another finger.” Nayeon fingers were working extra hours on Minjeong ass to make her use to the intromission. She was opening her fingers inside Minjeong’s little entrance to gape her anus and make room for a third finger. 

“Ok… Ok. I’ll take it, but let me cum please.” Minjeong´s brain was already fried with all the unexpected pleasure she was getting from her ass and all she wants right now is to get some friction on her dick. When nayeon wasn't grabbing her she tried to grind against the desk, but that didn’t give her enough pleasure. She definitely needed Nayeon’s hand to make her cum.

“Good girl,” With a little bit of effort Nayeon puts her third finger inside Minjeong’s small anus. Her slender fingers feels so good against her warm walls, they were so long that were deeper than any other thing Minjeong had ever put on her ass. Also having three of them inside her ass makes her feel so filled. Having her anus this expanded was something really new to her.

Nayeon’s other hand came back to touch Minjeong’s dick, this time wrapping her fingers around the hard meat. While her work on the youngergirl ass was fast, really fucking her anus, the pace on her dick was more controled. Slow long pumps, or at least as long as her size allows, that had Minjeong’s shaft throbbing. The dual action was too much, and that added to the fact that Nayeon was complimenting her for taking her finger so well has Minejong at the very verge of the orgasm. But for some reason he knew she wasn't allowed to cum till her teacher gave her the direct order to do so.

Now the girl was holding the desk edges tightly till the point her knuckles turned white. The pleasure was so much that it was overwhelming. She was releasing patetic whimpers while her teacher was stuffing three fingers inside her stretched anus. “Good girl, you earned it. You can cum now.” Nayeon whispered to her ear and that was all she needed to stop holding her orgasm and pour out her cum on her teacher’s hand.

Minjeong released the desk and used her hands to cover her mouth as best as she could. After all they still were inside Nayeon’s office and her whimpers could get them to be caught, that would definitely end with her being expelled from college and Nayeon being fired. For that Minjeong tries to hold her whimpers, but didn’t help that nayeon still where fucking her ass while she was cumming, filling the big hand whit her hot milk. And even when it was a bit uncomfortable having her anus so stretched was also a very pleasant orgasm, even her legs were shaking for the pleasure and overwhelming feelings.

“Good girl. You did it so well.” Nayeon finally pulls her fingers out of Minjeong’s anus, leaving her entrance full open and feeling empty. “Actually you deserve more than a few points.” Minjeong's orgasm was so good that she had blurred vision. “If you can take my fingers again in the future I’ll let you pass my class with an A+.” Nayeon uses her panties to clean Minjeong´s cum from her finger while circling the desk to face the girl.” We call it a deal?” The teacher asked with her characteristic big smile, acting as if she hadn't just fucked one of hers students in the ass just moments ago.

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 19/?

Can I offer everyone some distraction and escape tonight? If you have sent a prompt to my inbox, I will get on those tonight and tomorrow. Just wanted to get a longer offering up as well. It's going to get worse before it ever gets better. Do what you have to do to stay safe, and try to do good where you can. I pray for better days ahead.

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

From the moment Tommy’s coven master stepped into the house, Evan could tell he was powerful.

Not as powerful as Tommy. Not as old as Tommy, either…but definitely not a new vampire. Something about the way he carried himself gave Evan the impression that he was used to being listened to. Obeyed. His dark eyes zeroed in on Evan as he made his way to Tommy’s living room, and even with no fangs visible, Evan absolutely received the message that this man would neither hesitate to kill him, nor feel an ounce of guilt over it. It should have been terrifying. And make no mistake, Evan was wary.

But he wasn’t afraid.

His magic hummed in the back of his mind, strong and ready to use to defend himself. Even if he had not recovered from the effects of using the teleport spell, though…Tommy wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

The knowledge settled in his mind, startling in its surety. Its absoluteness. Tommy wouldn’t let any harm come to him. Evan knew that.

He did not know how he knew that, or why it felt like such an immutable, inarguable fact. It was an insane thought to have. Sure, Tommy had put himself between Evan and danger several times already, but what possible reason could Evan have for thinking that he’d continue to do so? Against his own coven master, no less? He didn’t have one…and yet he was so completely confident in the belief that he met the vampire’s eyes squarely, his magic swirling contentedly through his body.

He listened as Tommy argued back and forth with his coven master, tensing as Alonzo revealed that the vampires were already spreading rumors about what had happened in Greenway’s office. He’d known in the back of his mind that the men who’d attacked them weren’t likely to just ride off into the sunset, never to be heard from again…but the high coven had seemed the larger threat.

He couldn’t even really blame this Alonzo person for asking Tommy to get rid of him, to turn him over to the high coven and just cut his losses. Hadn’t Evan been begging Tommy to do just that before Alonzo appeared? It was the smart play—the only play that could possibly keep Tommy and his coven out of this.

God, he wanted to give Tommy a way out of this.

“I’ve been on my own before. I can manage. Just do what I said before…let me leave and have your coven master lodge a complaint with the high coven. Tell them I spelled you. I don’t—I don’t know what to do about the vampires, but at least that’ll get my people off of your coven.”

“Well. I wasn’t expecting you to be the voice of reason. Listen to him, Thomas. We don’t have a lot of time to go with that story—not even a powerful witch could control you for very long.”

Evan ignored Alonzo, staring at Tommy as he seemed to consider their words. He wasn’t sure how this whole mess was going to end. He hoped Grant and her coven could find what they needed to in time to avoid a coven war…but Evan knew better than most the kinds of things that powerful covens could get away with when they wanted to. He wasn’t terribly confident. He just knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t do everything in his power to give them the chance.

He thought Tommy felt the same way. Like everything else about the vampire, it seemed a ridiculous thought to have. Three days ago, would have laughed out loud at the idea that a vampire could care about innocent people dying in a coven war. But he’d seen firsthand how much Tommy cared about his coven. Despite the horrible way they’d come into each other’s lives, Tommy had been nothing but honest with him. Honorable. Kind.

Protective.

He wasn’t an idiot. And he wasn’t naïve. Tommy had killed people. More people than Evan could probably conceive of, given how old he was. But Evan didn’t think the vampire was faking the disgust he seemed to feel for the wanton violence and cruelty of the party he’d rescued Evan from. He didn’t think Tommy was faking his desire to get to the bottom of whatever was going on in the city. Something inside Evan told him that Tommy wanted to stop what was coming just as much as Evan did.

The difference was, if Evan died in this storm they’d somehow entered into, the collateral damage would be minimal.

Sally had cut ties with him.

His parents had never cared for him to begin with.

Maddie probably thought he was already dead…or had abandoned her.

There was no one left to care if he died, but Tommy had a whole coven who would mourn him. Hell, Evan had interacted with them for less than two hours, but he could tell how close Tommy was with the two vampires who had come to the loft. There was no reason for Tommy to go down this road with him when there were so many people who would be hurt if Tommy got himself killed. He knew Tommy wouldn’t stand for just turning Evan over to the high coven, but letting him go and then taking a story about Evan casting a compulsion over Tommy to them was the absolute best move that Tommy could make. For his coven. For himself.

“I can’t do that.” The vampire’s voice was clear. Steady. Not a hint of doubt or hesitation in the words. Tommy’s eyes bored relentlessly into his, his back ramrod straight as he refused, refused the out Evan was offering him. “Evan, whoever is orchestrating all this, I’m not leaving you to face them down by yourself.”

And…what? Evan startled, barely managing to keep his mouth from falling open in shock. Wait—wait, no, he couldn’t have heard that correctly. That made no sense. That was—

“Thomas, are you insane? You can’t be serious!” Tommy’s coven master sounded as shocked as Evan felt, the cool, calm demeanor he’d been affecting since he entered the bungalow cracking.

He started to pace back and forth, his movements quick and agitated, and Evan tucked one hand behind his back, clenching his fist and focusing on his magic the way Sally had taught him, drawing it tightly inwards, ready to spring forth at his command. No witch was powerful enough to cast without the structure of a spell…but thanks to Sally’s lessons, Evan could cast faster than most.

Tommy stepped deliberately between them, facing his coven master, and Evan felt a flush of warmth he couldn’t even try to deny. Alonzo’s next words, though, were like a bucket of ice water being poured straight down Evan’s spine.

“If you do this, then I’ll have no choice but to disavow you. Sever our alliance.”

He gasped. He knew he gasped, the soft, breathy sound of it punching out of him entirely without his permission. No. No, Alonzo couldn’t be suggesting what it sounded like he was suggesting. And even if he was, there was no way that Tommy would—

“Exactly,” Tommy said. His voice was still so steady, so sure. As though he was talking about something as minor as changing the paint color in his living room or what he might make for dinner and not…not…

Tommy and his coven master continued speaking, but Evan couldn’t make out the words over the buzzing in his ears. He felt frozen, stopped, his mind swarming with memories and feelings that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to examine in years. The blood pounded in his head, his focus on his magic splintering. No. No, Tommy couldn’t—he wouldn’t…

“Thomas. You’ll be convenless.”

“I’ve been covenless before.”

Covenless. There were a thousand other meanings for that word, and Evan had lived every one for the last five years.

To be covenless was to be nothing. Less than nothing. When Evan had been banished from his coven, he’d lost everything. His home, his family, his familiar. His future. His identity. Everything that made him who he was had been stripped from him, and he’d been left to rebuild himself from fucking scratch…only he’d never be able to. Not really.

To be covenless was to be alone. Completely alone. Unwelcome in every corner of the world you’d thought would be yours forever, unwanted and uncared for. Evan had lost his coven bonds and he’d become a ghost. He’d lost everything when he lost his coven. How could Tommy just give it up?

Why…why would he do something like that for him?

Evan watched in frozen, horrified silence as Tommy did it. Severed himself from his coven. Turned his back on his home, his family, the people he cared for…for Evan. He listened to the oddly formal words—completely devoid of the power that he’d felt when the Pennsylvania high coven handed down his sentence, and yet somehow just as heavy. Just as important. Some part of him tried to remind himself that Tommy had said vampire covens didn’t function the way witch covens did. Vampire covens were alliances, not bonds that were formed in blood and magic…but it didn’t matter. Tommy was giving up his coven. For him.

To protect him. He’d said it. He’d said he wasn’t going to leave Evan to face this storm alone.

It was impossible. It was irrational. It made absolutely no sense. He was watching it with his own eyes, and he didn’t understand. He’d given himself up for Maddie. He’d sacrificed everything he ever was or ever would be to keep her safe, to make sure that she didn’t suffer for what she had to do to set herself free from Doug. He hadn’t set out to lose his coven because of it, he’d just known it was a likely outcome. Had Tommy known he was going to do this when his coven master walked through the door? Had he looked at the situation the way Evan had all those years ago, his sister’s heartwrenching sobs ringing in his ears as they stood over Doug’s still body, and made the same choice Evan had in that moment? How? How?

It had been an easy sacrifice for him to make for Maddie. Losing his coven had been the hardest thing he’d ever experienced or ever would experience, but it had been worth it to save his sister. Keep her safe. Protect her.

But…but he loved Maddie. Loved her more than anything else in the world, loved her more than he loved himself.

What motivation did Tommy have to give up his coven for Evan?

Tommy was still for a long moment after his coven master–fuck, his ex coven master, what had he done?—left the bungalow. Evan listened to the sound of the vampire's car start up, still feeling like he'd been encased in a block of ice. Tommy's shoulders slumped slightly as the sound of the car faded down the driveway, growing more and more distant, and he cracked his neck a couple times before turning to look at Evan.

Evan didn't know what his face looked like, but Tommy's immediately softened. It was almost unbearable to watch…Tommy had just made himself covenless, how could he have room to feel sympathy for Evan?

“Evan, remember. Coven bonds aren’t like what you’re used to for us. This isn’t…it doesn’t hurt me,” he said, and his voice was so, so gentle.

As if Evan was the one who needed to be handled carefully, as though Evan was the one hurting. Because he was hurting. Evan knew that without a doubt, knew it the same way he’d known that Tommy wouldn’t let his coven master hurt him—it was a quiet certainty, a solid as stone beneath his feet. He felt suddenly sick, too hot and too cold at the same time. His heart pounded in his chest, his magic thrumming through him insistently, and he shook his head.

“Why…” He broke off, suddenly unable to meet Tommy’s eyes, and swallowed hard. “Why did you do that?” he managed to choke out, his voice sounding alien to his own ears.

Tommy tilted his head slightly, a stepped toward him, closing the distance between them until he was right in front of him. “I’m not letting you do this alone,” he said, as though that were an actual reason to leave his coven, to voluntarily give it up.

Evan shook his head again, his head still spinning. “That doesn’t make sense!” he burst out. “Tommy, you’re gonna get yourself killed!”

Infuriatingly, Tommy’s lips twitched into a smile, and he reached up to lay his hand on Evan’s shoulder. There was no heat from the touch, of course, and yet Evan swore he could feel the shape of Tommy’s hand on him like a brand. His magic sparked through him, swirling in his chest like champagne bubbles. “I’ve heard that before, Evan. Hasn’t happened, yet,” he said.

“It’s not worth it,” Evan said.

Losing your coven isn’t worth it, Evan meant.

I’m not worth it, Evan meant.

Tommy’s hand loosened briefly, his fingers twitching like he wanted to move them. For a few heartbeats, Evan had the bizarre sense that Tommy was restraining himself from reaching up, brushing the skin of Evan’s throat, skating his fingers higher and higher to touch Evan’s face. Even more bizarre was the pulse of disappointment when Tommy merely patted his shoulder and stepped back, a strange expression twisting his features.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the vampire said. “Now…are you ready to start this snipe hunt?”

*

“How worried do we have to be about one of those locator spells?” Tommy asked as he guided the SUV onto the highway, heading for the address that his friend Chimney had provided.

Evan blinked, startled out of thoughts that would not stop racing in circles no matter how hard he tried. He was glad for the new topic to focus on, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the window. “Depends. If your, uh, if Alonzo lets the high coven have some of your stuff when he talks to them, it could be a problem. If it’s something you’re really attached to.” He opened his eyes and shot Tommy a sidelong glance. “Do you have a lot of things at your coven house?” he asked quietly.

Tommy chuckled, not taking his eyes off the road. It was hard to get a read on his expression, but he didn’t seem especially upset. “Some. Not as much as you might think someone could collect over eight hundred years. I’ve never really cared about things. Most of what I really give a shit about, I keep at the bungalow. But I can text Sal and Lucy and tell them to hide a few other things at the coven house.”

Evan nodded to himself. “We should have a day or two before it even becomes an issue—and they might not think it’s worth it. It’d be hard to hold a locator spell on a vampire. Most of our really complicated magic doesn’t work so great on you.”

Tommy made a curious hum. “Why’s that?”

Evan shrugged. “No one really knows. Probably for the same reason that you can’t turn witches.” He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. “I can cast a charm that’ll let me know if someone’s trying to spell you,” he offered after a moment. “And disrupt it.”

“Will it be a drain on you? I’d rather you save your strength for when we run into trouble.”

“A disruption? Yeah, that’d be hard for me to keep up for very long…but the alert charm is simple. Sa—someone taught it to me when I was a kid, to help me channel my intentions in a spell. Those kinds of things, losing my coven bond doesn’t really, uh, doesn’t really affect me that much,” he finished quietly. “But it’s still a spell. I, I, I get it if you don’t want me casting anything on you.”

Tommy was silent for a long moment, before he said quietly, “I trust you, Evan. Do I need to pull over?”

“Wait, not? You want me to cast it now?” Evan blinked, the calm certainty in Tommy’s voice when he said he trusted him catching him off-guard. Tommy shrugged one shoulder.

“Might as well. I don’t want to risk getting distracted later—and any advantage we can get is worth taking.”

“Um, okay. Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Uh, no, it—you won’t feel anything. Maybe like, a tingle? But it won’t hurt or anything. I can do it while you’re driving.” He pressed his lips together, considering. “Can I have your hand?”

Tommy startled a little at that, shooting him a quick, bemused look. “Sure?” he said, stretching one hand out toward Evan.

Evan took it, cradling it in his palms and resting two fingers on where Tommy’s pulsepoint should be in his wrist. It was odd not to feel the beat of life underneath his fingers, to trace skin that was oddly cool, blue veins standing out more starkly than he was used to. He leaned over Tommy’s hand and started chanting, his magic all but leaping to his fingertips as he murmured the familiar spell. Tommy kept his eyes on the road, but Evan could sense him shooting quick little looks his way, even as he held his hand trustingly still.

It was strangely intimate. The thought skipped through Evan’s head and was gone as he felt the spell building, his hands beginning to glow with the white light of a witch’s power. He breathed out the last words of the spell and pressed the magic gently into the skin of Tommy’s wrist, a sigil glowing briefly before fading to near invisibility. Tommy shivered as the sigil sunk in, his fingers flexing, but he held still until the light of Evan’s magic faded. Moving slowly—almost reluctantly?—he slipped his hand from Evan’s grasp and looked at the inside of his wrist, his eyebrow twitching upwards minutely.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it,” Evan confirmed, settling back in his seat and going back to staring out the window. “If anyone tries to cast on you, I’ll know.”

“Thank you, Evan,” Tommy said.

Evan nodded silently, watching the LA scenery fly past the window as Tommy sped towards Greenway’s house. He felt like his brain was spinning as fast as the tires, too much happening for him to really get a grasp on it. He needed to. He couldn’t afford to be spiraling with them potentially heading into a hostile situation. Everything—his confusion and disbelief and, yes, all right, his guilt over Tommy giving up his coven, his worry about what they were walking into, his fear for what could happen in this city if they failed, he had to let it all go. He could almost hear Sally’s voice in his head, chidingly reminding him that he needed to stay focused.

Find an anchor, little love. A single thing to concentrate on and hold onto that, no matter what.

Good advice…but advice he’d struggled to take all his life. He looked over at Tommy again, taking in his profile as he tried to read his stoic expression, tried to figure out what might be running through the vampire’s head. Tommy said he trusted him. After knowing him only a couple of days, Tommy was willing to take risks for him that he wouldn’t have asked of anyone in his coven except maybe Maddie. Had made sacrifices for him that Evan knew down to the marrow of his bones his own parents would never have made. Tommy said he trusted him.

Evan breathed out slowly, his magic ebbing through him in time to his heartbeat. In the face of everything, he let the simple truth that had been trying to form in his mind since Tommy had given up his place in his coven to protect Evan wash over him. He trusted Tommy, too. And that was what he was going to hold onto, no matter what.

*

Jonah Greenway had lived on a surprisingly quiet street in a small, nondescript house that was neither especially nice nor especially run-down. Tommy took a couple of laps around the block in the SUV, trying to scout if there was anybody already there. Evan had been slightly worried that the place would already have been under a police investigation, but credit where credit was due—the SoCal high coven was very good at keeping their world secret.

“Looks clear,” Tommy muttered after the third lap around the block. They’d stopped a few intersections and pulled into and reversed out of a couple of driveways to hopefully make it look as though they were just lost to any nosy neighbors who might notice a large SUV with heavily tinted windows. He pulled to a stop about a block down the street from Greenway’s house.

“Wait—how are we getting you in there?” Evan asked, tipping his head towards the window…and the sun-drenched street outside it. It would have been easier to wait ‘til at least dusk to leave the bungalow, but the need to give Grant and her coven enough time to do their own investigations created a sense of urgency that would not be ignored.

“I can take sunlight for a few minutes,” Tommy said, frowning distastefully and twisting in his seat to dis around in the floor behind him. He sat up a moment later with a large black hoodie and pulled a pair of gloves out of one of the pockets. “Although no offense, I’m gonna walk a hell of a lot faster than you.”

“Dressed like the villain in an after-school special?” Evan asked dubiously, his eyebrow climbing when Tommy pulled his sun visor down and grabbed a large pair of sunglasses clipped to the edge. “Really?”

“If you have a better suggestion, I’d love to avoid the third-degree sunburn I’m about to get.”

Evan debated a moment, drumming his fingers on his thigh and poking at the edges of his magic, feeling out the strength. Then he turned in his own seat, staring hard out the back windshield at the corner of Greenway’s house that was visible. There was a decently-sized porch with a roof, and Evan knew any witch worth his salt would have had look-away charms on his house, though they might have lost power when Greenway died. Still, if that was the case, then any hexes or traps he’d laid on the property would also be defunct, and Tommy would be able to break into the place quickly. Evan felt confident he could handle any hexes that were still active, and short out an alarm system fast enough that it would register as a glitch.

“Try not to move, okay?” he said, reaching over to grab Tommy’s wrist as he focused on the corner of the porch he could see, and chanted the spell.

His ears popped, the whole world going quiet and shadowy, sound muffling almost to the point that he was enveloped in silence. The air around him turned absolutely freezing, colder than any Pennsylvania winter, and as the spell ended he couldn’t help coughing. Beside him, he heard Tommy gasp something in a language he didn’t recognize—though by the tone, he could tell it wasn’t polite—and the vampire scrambled to his feet, his wrist twisting under Evan’s to grab at his hand and yank him to his feet as well.

They were standing on Greenway’s porch, well-shaded from the afternoon sunlight.

“What the hell?! What did you do?” Tommy demanded, looking around him in shock. “That wasn’t the same thing you did at the office!”

Evan laughed shortly, pulling away so he could examine the door in front of them. The fact that no defense spells had triggered when they appeared on the porch was encouraging, but he wasn’t going to just take it on faith that Greenway didn’t have something more powerful than simple charms and hexes waiting. “No—a teleport is major magic even when you have a coven bond. I’m not risking that unless there’s no other choice. I took us through the between.” He reached out and let his hand hover over the doorknob, unable to feel the telltale tingle of magic against his skin.

“The…wasn’t that where Greenway hid the flash drive?”

“Yup.”

“And you can…go…there?” Tommy continued slowly.

“If you know how. Most of us just use it like Greenway did. Like a hiding place. Kind of a magical safe-deposit box? But the between is as big or small as you know it is, and it exists wherever you know it will. So, if you know it’s big enough to fit you, and you know it exists where you want to be, you can get to it.”

“That—okay, that actually makes a weird sort of sense and explains a couple of encounters I’ve had over the years. I haven’t met any witch who could do something like that in a century or two, though.”

Evan shrugged, still examining the door. “Not a lot of us can, anymore. It’s old magic. Like, old-fashioned magic, not, uh, not old as in ancient. It’s easy to get lost in, so it’s not like it’s in the normal, everyday lessons. Sally only taught me because—” He broke off, his brain catching up with the amount of private information his mouth was just casually giving away.

Tommy was silent for a moment. “Sally was your familiar?” he asked gently.

Evan clenched his jaw, before nodding quickly. “I don’t think there’s any kind of spell on the door,” he said. Thankfully, Tommy accepted the abrupt subject change, stepping around Evan to grip the doorknob and give the door a fast, almost casual shove with his shoulder. The deadbolt snapped in an instant, and Tommy stepped back to interpose himself between Evan and anything that might be waiting for them inside.

Only silence greeted them, however.

Tommy cocked his head, listening intently, before his shoulders relaxed. “It’s empty,” he said. “But stay close.” He stepped inside the darkened interior of Greenway’s house. Evan took a deep breath and followed, his eyes roving over his surroundings curiously.

The house was surprisingly…sterile. It had all the trappings of a home—comfortable furniture, plush carpets on the floors, bookshelves full of books and mementos, art hanging on the walls. Yet, the place felt cold to Evan. There was none of the warmth and character of Tommy’s bungalow. The place felt like a showroom or a magazine cover. Everything perfectly chosen and placed to present a picture that it just…wasn’t.

It felt, he reflected wryly, like the house he had grown up in.

“Howie and Grant already searched the place for anything useful, but the high coven hasn’t gotten here yet. We need them to think we’re looking for something, get them to waste resources trying to find it first. Toss the place?” Tommy asked, glancing back at Evan with a questioning look. Evan shrugged, turning a slow circle in the large, open-plan living space that took up most of the first floor. Something felt…off.

“They really didn’t find anything?” he asked, his eyes darting around the room.

“Nada,” Tommy confirmed, watching as Evan looked all around him. “Why? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, I just…there’s something…” he trailed off, the frustratingly feeling of something just out of his reach dancing at the edge of his senses. His eyes fell on a mirror propped up in the corner of a set of recessed bookshelves that had been built into the walls on either side of a large picture window in what Greenway had set up as his living room. Directly in front of the window was a large, ornate wooden writing desk. Evan tilted his head and followed the line of where the mirror was facing…to another mirror mounted on the wall by the stairs to the second story. The mirror was positioned oddly, slightly off-center of where Evan would expect it to be, just enough to look a little wonky. In fact, if he stood in front of that mirror and followed the line of where it was facing, he would find…

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Evan muttered.

“What?” Tommy demanded immediately.

In answer, Evan spun another slow circle in the center of the room, tracing the sightlines of multiple mirrors positioned all around the room. That was what he was feeling. He hadn’t quite shaken the chill of the between from his senses, after all…and there was quite a lot of the between in this room.

“He hid something else here,” Evan said, finding the mirror that was positioned in the northernmost part of the room and pacing away from it until he was as close to the center of where the sight lines of all five of the mirrors around the living space met as he could get. “Fucking smart bastard, I’ll give him that.”

“Evan, what are you talking about? I’m pretty sure Howie and Grant would have known to look in this between place.”

“Yeah, but they might not have realized how big the between is here,” Evan countered. “Like I said…it’s not something a lot of witches learn anymore.”

Tommy tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked curious, though, not dismissive. “You keep talking like the size of it can change. Isn’t space…you know, space? Like there have to be boundaries.”

“Ever been in one of those house of mirrors they do at fairs and theme parks?” Evan asked, centering himself and focusing hard. He murmured the appropriate spell and reached toward the desk, the way he had in the office building to find the flash drive. The way he’d—sort of, it was a little more complicated than he’d explained to Tommy—done to get them from the car to the porch to avoid the sunlight. Only this time, he reached further into the between. Through all the layers of it that Greenway had folded it upon itself, over and over, until only a witch or familiar who regularly used it to shift themselves through space and not just store and hide things in would have even realized there was that much of it to explore in this house.

Evan did not travel through the between regularly. It was not something that witches did anymore, the dangers of getting lost too great. But he had been very carefully trained by someone who had learned the art in times when it had been a valuable tool for survival.

His hand closed on something in the between, and he curled his fingers around it and yanked. There was a soft pop in the air, and when he looked at the empty desk again, there was a small, leatherbound ledger sitting innocuously in the center of it. “Gotcha,” he hissed. He hurried forward and scooped the ledger off the desk, pulling at the bands of elastic that bound it at each corner.

“Great work Ev—GET DOWN!” Tommy’s voice changed in a flash, rising to a bellow as he lunged at Evan. Between one breath and the next, Tommy had made it across the room and wrapped himself around Evan, pulling Evan tight against his chest and spinning them around so that Tommy’s back was to the window.

There was a loud sound of shattering glass.

The clatter of something hitting the desk.

And then the whole world around Evan exploded into a mass of light. And sound. And force.

Evan felt himself lifted off his feet, flung across the room. Tommy’s body was wrapped tight around him, the vampire’s arms shielding him protectively, his face pressed hard against Tommy’s throat. They hit the floor hard enough that the breath was knocked from Evan’s lungs, but he was still dimly aware of Tommy taking the brunt of the landing, rolling them with the momentum, one hand cradling the back of Evan’s head and keeping it from cracking on the hardwood floors as they came to a rolling halt.

Evan coughed, everything spinning around him in dizzying circles, his ears ringing so loudly he could barely hear anything over it. His whole body hurt, and when he pulled his head back from Tommy’s neck, the room was suddenly hazy with smoke. What…what had—

“Tommy?” he gasped, when the vampire made no move to let go, to get up. “Tommy, what—”

He could hardly hear his own voice, though he knew he was shouting. He gripped Tommy’s shoulder, more relief than he was willing to examine at the moment sweeping through him when he felt the vampire’s muscles bunch under his touch, felt Tommy shudder and start to struggle to get up. Something was wrong, though.

His vampire was moving too slowly, too sluggishly. When Evan blinked some of the hazy smoke out of his eyes, Tommy’s face—mere inches from his own—was twisted in a grimace of pain. Something hard pressed into the top of Evan’s abdomen, right under his breastbone, and he slowly became aware of a hot wetness seeping into his borrowed shirt. Gasping, he wrenched himself backwards enough so he could look down, a buzzing that had nothing to do with his ringing ears filling his head when his eyes focused on the massive, wickedly sharp chunk of splintered wood that was poking into his chest.

The massive, wickedly sharp chunk of splintered wood that had impaled Tommy through the back, gone clear through his body.

“Tommy! Tommy, what—”

“Evan…run,” his vampire managed to grit out, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Aw come on Kinard. Let the witch stay.”

Evan’s heart sank, his eyes flying to the gaping hole where Greenway’s front window had been only seconds before. The blond vampire from the office building was clambering through the jagged opening, flanked by two other vampires that Evan hadn’t seen before. They were covered head to toe in the same getup that Tommy had been going to try to use to get across the sunny street—hoodies, gloves, long pants—but every inch of exposed skin was blistered and peeling, obviously burned by even what short exposure they’d had to the sun.

Blondie pulled his hood back, glaring at Evan and Tommy, a nasty smirk firmly in place on his face. Evan’s eyes flicked between the three of them as Tommy tried to push at his shoulder, still struggling to get his feet under him, even as more blood spurted out from around the piece of fucking shrapnel sprouting out of his chest.

Tommy was hurt. Badly.

The vampire who had protected him over and over, even when it made no logical sense for him to do so. The vampire who had been kinder and gentler to him over the past two days than any one of his own kind had been over the past five years. His vampire, who had refused to let Evan walk into danger alone.

His vampire, who had given up his own coven to stay by Evan’s side, against odds that would have sent any sane person running for the hills. His vampire.

Evan curled his arm protectively over Tommy’s back and reached for every drop of magic in his body, the most dangerous spell Sally had ever taught him fairly exploding out of him in a rush of power.

[theladyofthevarioussorrows]

In honor of Lestat de Lioncourt's 264th birthday, I present to you...

Written in Blood, or the Play in which The Brat Prince Ties the Knot

Part I (of IV)

Fandom: The Vampire Chronicles (Gothic horror novel series, 1976-2018); Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire (TV series, 2022-present)

Pairing: Lestat de Lioncourt/fem!reader; Lestat de Lioncourt/You

Word count: 3,900+

Characters: Lestat de Lioncourt (Sam Reid, the best version…­­­the only one that matters, obviously); fem!reader; The Vampire Armand (lol ouch); Nicolas de Lenfent (even bigger ouch, RIP); Santiago; Estelle; Celeste; Eglee; Sam; Gustav; Quang Pham; pretty much the entire Theatre des Vampires.

Summary: Fem!reader is the newest addition to the Theatre des Vampires, and Lestat becomes smitten with her (of course he does, the little whore!). Lestat’s allure, charm, beauty, and viciousness are not lost on the reader, and she falls for him (I mean, who wouldn’t, let’s be honest). With fem!reader being the freshest member of the Coven, Santiago “initiates” her (similar to how he brought Claudia in) by casting her as Lestat’s co-star in the next play as his love interest. The play, overseen reluctantly by Armand is about a wedding (in the vein of The Taming of the Shrew, As You Like It, or something similar but accurate to the time period, that is the vibe…Lestat, little miss Lady Macbeth himself, “barely Balthazar” Armand, “too old to play Hamlet, too young to play Polonius” Santiago, and I are all Shakespeare girlies, so I thought it would make sense); fem!reader and Lestat are actually getting legally married, unbeknownst to the mortal audience. Fem!reader and Lestat are to be the bride and groom, Santiago is the Justice of the Peace, and the rest of the TDV are the wedding party. While Armand is still the Coven leader, he “directs” the play and Nicki leads the orchestra. Things do not go the way they were planned to go (in Armand’s case); a story of love, sex, and vampire drama unfolds.

Warnings and additional tags: New/eventual relationship, established relationship, smut (P in V), fluff, mention of sex, mention of masturbation, (F and M), oral sex (F and M receiving), all characters (except the reader, duh) are written to be as close to the way they are in the books as well as the show to the best of my ability, reader-insert, reader-interactive, use of Y/N, Lestat gives the reader pet names in French (this is Lestat, after all), mutual pining, flirting, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism (is anything Lestat does really a secret? No, not really), blood drinking, blood sucking, bloodletting, biting, gore, violence, murder (feeding on humans is the only instance of this), both Lestat and fem!reader are bisexual, age gap (fem!reader is younger than Lestat by at least a bit but it doesn’t really matter as much because he himself is a new-ish vampire; Lestat would still be somewhere in his thirties in mortal years by the show’s timeline), Lestat is very seductive and persuasive (fem!reader doesn’t need much persuading, so it’s not a bad thing), a bunch of mentions of Shakespeare, lines from As You Like It are in italics and dialogue from vampires using the Mind Gift are in bold italics.

Notes: This story takes place while Lestat is still performing with the Theatre des Vampires and is newly a vampire himself. Magnus is obviously dead by now (thank God). The events of this fic take place after Lestat breaks up with both Nicki (he is still alive at this point in time) and Armand, but before he meets Louis de Pointe du Lac and later Claudia. I don’t have anything against either character (I adore both greatly!), this is just a “what if?” kind of situation. This is a basic idea I had had for literal years ever since I read the books, but I didn’t do anything with it until the second season of the show started, specifically episode 10. I wasn’t immune to Harlequin Lestat, and I was FERAL about it. Sam Reid only made that worse for me (God, I am so in love with him…that man IS Lestat. He doesn’t just play him, he BECAME him, and no one else has come close. Tom Cruise and Stuart Townsend could NEVER!). The premise of the fic came to me while listening to “Written in Blood” by She Wants Revenge…one thing led to another, and here we are! Also, yes, I KNOW the vampires don’t “have sex” in the novels, but they do in the show (a LOT). I might make references to things that have happened in the books (mostly Interview with the Vampire and The Vampire Lestat, possibly a bit of Queen of the Damned) but might not have been shown in the TV series yet, so reader beware of that. Let this be the spoiler warning if you are not familiar with the books or haven’t watched the show. I am completely ignoring both movies, because they mean absolutely nothing to me now that the (far superior) show exists. The piece that fem!reader uses for her audition comes from Shakespeare’s comedy As You Like It…she is reading as Rosalind while disguised as Ganymede, and Lestat reads with her as Orlando. I thought the parallels were a nice touch. I obviously do not own the rights to As You Like It, I merely used the one scene for Y/N’s audition, and to add romantic and dramatic effect. Special shout out to my best friend Riley for their contribution and ideas!

Language: English (except for a handful of pet names and expressions used by Lestat in French, hopefully I did it correctly. I took 4 years of French in high school, but I am not fluent)

_________________________________________

It was a cool autumn night in Paris, and while mortals slept, the undead were busy welcoming their newest member to their coven inside the old auditorium. The Vampire Armand stood proudly in front of the stage, looking up at the Theatre’s founder and poster child Lestat de Lioncourt, giving him notes and stage directions he knows full well Lestat will not listen to. Next to Lestat was Y/F/N Y/L/N, a freshly turned vampire herself.

Today was Y/N’s audition to join the Theatre des Vampires, and although nervous, she felt at home already among the other thespians in the room with her. With her lifelong love of theatre and literature that only intensified in her newly immortal life, Y/N knew she was in good company. She caught herself stealing glances at Lestat, as if against her will, but she knew she couldn’t help herself. Of all the vampires in this room—the stage director and Coven leader Armand, fellow company members Eglee, Celeste, Estelle, Sam, Gustav, and Quang Pham in the seats, as well as the gifted violinist Nicki hiding in the wings—there is something captivating and enchanting about this charismatic blonde actor. Y/N felt immediately attracted to this man, and she was both alarmed by and pleased with this sudden revelation. Lestat could feel Y/N’s attraction to him, something he found adorable, endearing, distracting, and quite arousing. Lestat gazed at her, a charmingly wicked smile on his face as he admired the young vampire in front of him. Armand, annoyed but pushing the uneasy feeling down, turned to look at Y/N.

“Welcome to the Theatre, dear Y/N. The Coven and I are interested as to how you found yourself in Paris, and how you found us. Please, enlighten everyone,” Armand said, with a slight air of both curiosity and mild arrogance rolled together. Y/N quickly moved her glance from Lestat to Armand and shivered slightly before she answered.

“Hello all, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, and I was visiting when I was given the Dark Gift. I have been in Paris ever since. I heard about the Theatre through my maker, and through discovering the Theatre, I found out about the Coven.” As she told the truth, she felt Santiago staring daggers at her, full of amusement.

“So, little miss Y/L/N, it seems as though you enjoy the arts, is that right?” said Santiago, with a slithery snark. Y/N nodded her head. “A birdie told me that you’re auditioning with one of Shakespeare’s lesser works, yes?” Y/N nodded again. Lestat’s blueish violet eyes widened as he grinned a little bigger.

“Yes, I will be reading as Rosalind disguised as Ganymede. I hope you find it suitable,” she said politely, trying to stifle a small tinge of laughter. Santiago exaggerated his giggle to mock her slightly before speaking again.

“Hmm, I assume you would like to have someone read with you. I wonder who that could be…” Santiago’s voice trailed off as he shifted his glance from Y/N to the left of her.

The slender, blonde, and devilishly handsome vampire beside Y/N spoke before she could even have the thought to respond. Watching from the wings, the violinist Nicki put a hand to his forehead with a quiet groan.

“I volunteer myself. I know the play by heart,” said Lestat. He shot Y/N a soft but sly grin as he placed his hand on his chest, reeling in the blush that appeared on her face. Armand had to hold back a scoff as Lestat offered to read with her. “I’m quite curious to see how she does, if I may.” Lestat gently bowed as he spoke to her, with a smile on his face and intrigue in his heart. Lestat was many things, and subtle was not one of them. Y/N nodded, smiling slyly back at him.

“You may,” Y/N said, bowing slightly. Her cheeks cast a rosy glow upon them as she smiled. Santiago chuckled to himself, and Armand choked down another scoff as he looked back to Y/N and Lestat.

“As you wish. Lestat, you will read with Y/N as Orlando, starting from his entrance after Jaques exits the scene. Y/N, you will follow.” Armand crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the two vampires in front of him on the stage.

“Yes, maître,” said Y/N, slightly nervous but strangely excited about reading alongside this hauntingly tempting creature next to her. She got herself into character quickly, trying to fight off the thought of how sweet Lestat’s blood might taste on her tongue and how soft his full lips must be, among various other salacious and primal things that she wasn’t aware of that she needed or wanted. It wasn’t an unwelcome thing—Lestat had something disarmingly attractive about him. Y/N felt drawn to him somehow, but she tried in vain to hide it. Lestat cleared his throat and prepared himself as well, his own pale skin turning a faint pink as they moved to the middle of the stage. Butterflies fluttered inside their bodies as they began their scene. After a few seconds of silence passed, Lestat launched into character.

“My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.” Lestat said, remembering the lines from memory as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Despite her nervousness and giddiness, Y/N began herself.

“Break an hour’s promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o’ th’ shoulder, but I’ll warrant him heart-whole.” Y/N matched Lestat’s intensity and focus as she spoke her lines. Astonished by her delivery, he carried on with his own lines.

“Pardon me, dear Rosalind,” continued Lestat, feeling a rush of adrenaline in the pit of his stomach, the pleasant sensation only growing stronger as she went on. Lestat watched her as she moved effortlessly through her audition, overcome with awe, very nearly stumbling on his own lines as a result. Armand and Santiago watched from the bottom of the stage as Y/N and Lestat kept going.

Armand watched from the front row and noticed Lestat’s immediate and oddly natural chemistry with Y/N and was well aware of the subtle attraction and quiet infatuation she felt towards Lestat. Armand could feel it through her, and it bothered him. He couldn’t help it; he began to feel his face turn green with envy. Santiago, however, was greatly amused at what was unfolding in front of them—and he relished the drama of it all. The rest of the Coven watched from the seats intently, some engrossed, some unbothered. Nicki leaned up against the wall backstage, a pained expression etched on his features. Looking on at his former lover move across the stage like a ghost with a woman whom he had only met mere hours ago and watching her fall under his spell just as he had, Nicki shook his head, a grimace forming on his face.

With all due respect, maître…maybe we should keep an eye on the new one, said Santiago, filling Armand’s head with his thoughts without moving his mouth. It’s only a matter of time before our dear founder tries to take her to bed with him…you know as well as I do how he is. And seeing how she’s looking at him—Armand did not want to hear this. Lestat and Y/N were too immersed in their scene and lost in each other to hear them through their own minds.

Armand cut him off. Enough, Santiago. I know very well how Lestat operates. Let them finish. I’ll allow Y/N to continue, for now. We shall decide what measures to take when the time is right… As Armand and Santiago sized Y/N up, she breezed through her audition.

“Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now an I were your very, very Rosalind?” Y/N continued as she blushed and smiled at Lestat. Anything he did in his impromptu performance, she followed with masterful skill.

Lestat slowly walked closer to her, his gaze never leaving her eyes. Lestat looked at Y/N, smirking as he brushed some of his long blonde hair behind his ear. He let the silence expand for a second before he continued.

“I would kiss before I spoke.”

Lestat and Y/N gazed at each other as if they were the only beings in the room, amusing Santiago morbidly and annoying Armand profoundly. A mixture of admiration and a deep hunger formed inside Lestat’s chest, and Y/N’s heart pounded against her ribcage. She gulped quietly as she tried to keep up with Lestat. Determined to give the best audition she could despite having to act opposite the most gorgeous creature she has ever laid her eyes on, alive or dead, Y/N tried to fight off her own desire building within her. Soft gasps could be heard from the other vampires watching them from the seats.

“Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking—God warn us—matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.”

Sensing Y/N’s struggle to maintain her composure, Lestat met her energy with his own words. “How if the kiss be denied?” He looked at her for a beat, cocking his head to one side quizzically. Y/N answered him with a playful shrug.

“Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.”

Lestat continued his teasing, delighted by the thrill Y/N gave him. “Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?”

Y/N pretended to scoff. “Marry, that should you if I were your mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.”

Lestat looked at Y/N with a look of mock surprise. “What, of my suit?” he said, his voice harboring a more sensual tone this time.

“Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am I not your Rosalind?” Y/N floated across the stage like a ghost, every single movement calculated and carried out so smoothly.

“I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her.” Lestat’s face reddened slightly as he noticed how Y/N’s jaw dropped, but only for a second before she kept going.

“Well, in her person I say I will not have you.” Y/N let out an exaggerated giggle as she playfully spun around slowly.

A dramatic sigh escaped Lestat’s lungs. “Then in mine own person I die.” He looked back at Y/N as she turned to face him again.

“By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come; now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition, and ask me what you will, I will grant it.” Y/N gazed at the vampire in front of her, only inches separating them now. Lestat reached out to gently caress Y/N’s cheek as they looked deeply into each other’s eyes, making her blush even more obvious in her face now. He has her right where he wants her, and as fate or some other mystical thing would have it, Y/N is right where she wants to be. Once again, Lestat drew the silence out for a beat too long before he spoke.

“Then love me, Rosalind.”

Y/N’s voice trembled a little as she leaned into Lestat’s touch. His unbroken focus on her made her feel slightly faint just from the way he looked at her, but she kept her cool as best as she could. “Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.” She shyly smiled up at him, trying and failing to hide her quiet swooning.

Lestat hung on to every word that left her lips as if he had never heard such language spoken before. Of course, he was no stranger to the stage himself, having been the Theatre’s main selling point for a few years now. The act of performing on a stage in front of an enamored audience always thrilled him, but she…she was different. This new and sudden but pleasant feeling cut him way deeper, hit him harder—he knew that she was something magical. And Lestat wasn’t quite sure where to put that desire and hunger, so he decided to do the thing he does best: he needed to have her all to himself, by any means necessary. Lestat was delighted to find that the feeling was so clearly mutual.

Santiago watched Lestat enchant Y/N as they continued with their performances. He gasped quietly as he saw Lestat become smitten with Y/N, rolling his eyes. Just look at those two! Can you believe them? They’ve made eyes at each other from the second she came through the door. They’ve only just met a few hours ago and he’s looking at her like Venus de Milo herself…and she looks as if she’s about to melt through the floor. Armand found himself becoming more and more annoyed as Lestat and Y/N carried on like they were, and Santiago took notice. Maître, you’re grinding your teeth…

Armand huffed quietly. I said let them continue. Y/N is smarter than we realize. If she doesn’t know who she’s getting herself tied up with, she will. I can guarantee that. Armand maintained his mildly annoyed expression as he crossed his arms over his chest. I see potential in her. We can use that potential.

Santiago, ever the drama queen but also the suck-up, tried to push Armand’s buttons. How shall we do that, maître? I wonder what our violinist has to say about this…I can’t imagine he’s especially thrilled about—

Armand cut him off once again. Be silent now, Santiago. is the least of my worries right now.

Now mildly aware of the growing discomfort in the pit of Armand’s stomach and Santiago’s antagonizing of him, Lestat continued to read with Y/N. He was enraptured by her, this was true—but he also found quite a bit of amusement in making Armand uncomfortable. Y/N, less aware of the effect her performance is having on the Coven leader and his all-too-willing sidekick, matched him masterfully.

“And wilt thou have me?” said Lestat, sultry and low.

Y/N nodded her head and smiled. “Ay, and twenty such.”

Lestat felt his heart flutter in his chest as he moved closer to her. “What sayest thou?”

Y/N gently bit her lip then let it go with a smirk. “Are you not good?”

“I hope so.” Lestat rolled his eyes in a sassy manner.

“Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?” Y/N went on, closing the small space between herself and Lestat.

The vaguely pained expression did not escape Armand’s face. Still wanting to maintain some sort of order and power over his Coven, Armand kept his focus fixed on the two vampires on the stage in front of him.

Santiago, an evil grin taking shape over his features, watched Lestat and Y/N’s bond become deeper by the second as Y/N continued. “Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando.” Y/N gently reached for Lestat’s hand, and he placed it in hers, tangling their fingers together. She looked to where the audience would be sitting. “What do you say sister?” Y/N looked back up at Lestat as he gazed back at her, their vampire eyes blown out with love and desire for each other.

After what felt like an eternity, Lestat put his finger under Y/N’s chin and gingerly tilted her head up. He started to move down to press his lips to hers, and she moved up to meet him. He closed his eyes, and her eyelids fluttered shut as his lips gently—

A groan could be heard from Armand as Santiago abruptly rose from his seat and applauded loudly. Lestat and Y/N snapped out of their trance and pulled away from each other, no longer able to hide their blushing. The rest of the Coven began to applaud as well. The vampires Sam and Gustav were enthusiastic in their encouragement of the new potential member of the Coven and her undeniable and palpable chemistry with their Theatre’s founder. Celeste looked on with a proud smile on her face, while Estelle clapped wildly. Eglee rolled her eyes before eventually joining in with her applause. Backstage, Nicki shook his head again as he quietly left the auditorium, quietly cursing under his breath.

“Very well done, Y/N. Very well done indeed,” said Santiago, sounding giddier than he probably should. He looked at Armand. “What say you, maître?” he asked with mock amusement.

Armand once again did not listen. He looked up at Y/N as Lestat released her from his gentle but bold embrace. “Exquisite work, Y/N. Exceptional. While we evaluate your performance, you are welcome to remain here with the Coven. We have provided a coffin for you near your maker’s.” Armand started to dismiss everyone before he turned back to Y/N. “We do expect you to keep our hours, curfew is three o’clock sharp.” He shot a subtle but menacing glare at Lestat. Lestat rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself as he turned his back to him. Armand looked at Y/N again. Lestat smiled warmly at Y/N as he winked at her.

Still reeling from everything that just occurred, Y/N nodded and bowed. “Yes maître, I will. Thank you all.” Armand dismissed Santiago and the rest of the Coven, and they all left the auditorium.

It was then that Y/N heard a sensual and seductive voice inside her head.

Très bien fait, ma chérie. I’m impressed.

Y/N turned around to find Lestat leaning against the piano on the stage, his arms crossed over his chest, looking her up and down, dripping with genuine curiosity and insatiable desire. She blushed and smiled as she met his gaze.

“That’s very sweet of you to say, Lestat. It really means a lot to hear.” Y/N walked over to him, slightly nervous but not at all deterred. “You were amazing yourself.”

Lestat rolled his eyes playfully at her compliment but accepted it. “You flatter me, mon amour.” He stood up straight and walked over to her, looking down at her with that softly sly smirk again. “I must say, my dear Y/N, you are quite the actress. Many have come and gone from this theatre, but none have bewitched me so like you have, ma petite fleur.”

Y/N swooned at his words, slightly taken aback by the sincerity in them despite the obvious attraction. “Oh, you’re too kind. It’s not often I’m in the presence of someone so…” She caught herself getting lost in his eyes again—something she has by now realized is very easy to do—before she continued. “So…enchanting as you.”

Lestat chuckled lowly. “Is that so? Well, you have captivated me too, love,” he said, pausing briefly as he took the sight of her in. “I haven’t seen such talent on this stage in quite some time, Y/N.” She blushed deeper as she took a second to gather her thoughts. Y/N sighed softly before speaking.

“Thank you! I’m just happy that I can finally do what I love to do. Up until today, I thought it was unfortunate that I couldn’t do this kind of thing when I was mortal, but I don’t have that feeling now that I’m here. In an odd way, it feels right like this.” Y/N chuckled lightly.

Lestat listened to her words intently. “I know that feeling very well, mon coeur. For what it’s worth, I’m quite glad you wandered into midst. I can see already that you’re passionate about the Theatre, and it’s refreshing. You’re simply lovely.” Y/N smiled at his words of admiration and encouragement. “I cannot wait to see what other talents you possess, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he said with a smirk, appreciating the slight drop of her jaw. Noticing the positive tension on her face, Lestat spoke gently to her. “Oh, and don’t be nervous, chérie. There is nothing to be afraid of. I have no doubt you’ll fit in here, I am sure of it.” He traced her jawline affectionately before tilting her head up to bring her eyes to meet his, just like he did during her audition. “And, if I may be so bold, I would love to get to know you better. If you’ll have me, of course.” Y/N’s eyes widened as she swooned. She nodded as she stuttered slightly.

“I’d love to, Lestat. I would be honored.” Y/N felt her heart jump into her mouth. The gorgeous blonde vampire in front of her reveled in how flustered she looked as he spoke to her.

“Very well then, dear Y/N. We’ll continue our little conversation after your initiation tomorrow.”

Y/N gulped. “My…my what?!”

Lestat giggled slyly. “You heard me correctly, ma chérie. Welcome to the Theatre, darling. You’re one of us now as far as I’m concerned.”

“But…Armand said—” Lestat gently placed a finger over her lips to shut her up as he spoke lowly to her, sultry and dripping with desire.

“Shh, ma jolie fille…never mind what that Armand said.” Lestat let his finger gently drag across her bottom lip before letting it go. He brushed some of her hair behind her ear as he continued. “I’ll be seeing you backstage afterwards, yes?”

There was no way for him to be coy about his appetite for her any more than he had earlier. The vampire Lestat de Lioncourt was anything but shy about his unquenchable thirst for Y/N; it only grew exponentially in the few hours since he met her.

Y/N felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs as she nodded. “Of course, Lestat. You will.” She smiled at him, trying to regulate her breathing.

Lestat smiled wickedly at her again. “Très bien, mon amour. I’ll see you then.” He caressed her face again before turning to walk away. “Bonne nuit, ma belle. Sweet dreams.”

Y/N could feel her heart pounding in her throat as she smiled. “Good night, Lestat. I hope you sleep well.” Blushing, she beamed at him, and he smiled back, a blush of his own on his face.

With that, they left the room. As she lifted the lid to her coffin next to the others to crawl inside it, Y/N gasped as she heard Lestat’s voice in her head again, stopping her momentarily.

Remember what I told you, ma petite fleur. There is nothing to worry your pretty little head with. And know this too, my darling: I don't bite...hard.

[holylulusworld]

SHG for killers (1) - The first meeting

Summary: 6 men meet up to talk about their problems. They soon realize they need someone to help them solve their problems. This person is you. Whether you like it or not.

Pairing: Steve Kemp x fem!Reader, Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader, Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x fem!Reader, Andy Barber x fem!Reader, God, the bounty hunter x fem!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of murder/killing for money, serial killers/hitmen, mentions of blood/gore, talk about crimes, self-help group for killers/hitmen, world building, we get to know the men first

Self-help group for killers masterlist

“IT STINGS!” His screams of pain and agony echo in Lloyd Hansen’s mind when he wakes from another restless slumber.

He’s a stone-cold mercenary. Merciless and fearless. Or he was. That was until a certain former CIA lapdog pissed onto everything Lloyd stands for. It doesn’t help that he lost two fingers while hunting Six down.

“Bastard,” he curses under his breath as his eyes focus on his hand mutilation. “Still miss my pussy fingers,” Lloyd grumbles angrily. “Wait until I find you, Sierra Six. You’re a dead man; you just don’t know it yet.”

He closes his eyes, replaying the scene again. Lloyd grits his teeth, remembering how he got into a grapple with Six, who blew off Lloyd's left pinkie and ring finger.

The finger prosthetics don’t make him feel better. Sierra’s win over him, the loss of his fingers and reputation, still stings. His self-confidence and ego were not only bruised but torn in two.

For months, he fails mission after mission. His team is long gone, and so is his patience. Lloyd is angry and out for blood. Preferable Sierra Six’s blood.

He tried anything to find the renegade assassin. So far, he didn’t even find a trace. Sierra Six is a master at hiding from his enemies. Lloyd gives him that.

“One day, you’ll pay for what you did.”

“No drugs. No contact with other offenders. No missing an appointment,” Ransom’s probation officer recites all the rules he must follow. “Mr. Drysdale, did you even listen?”

“All of you are telling me the same thing.” Ransom sneers. “You’re the fifth guy in not four months. I know the rules.” He leans back in the uncomfortable and cheap chair the probation officer offered him. “All of you try to get me behind bars again; I get it. You’re pissed because I got earlier than everyone expected.”

“Mr. Drysdale,” the probation officer replies, watching Ransom munch another cookie. “I really don’t have the time to make plans to get you behind bars again. That’s not in my job description. If you don’t have any problems, we can end the meeting for today.”

“Shit, just a sec.” Robert doesn’t have the time to talk to his ex today. “Listen, you got the money and the car. Let’s part on good terms.” He’s poorly hiding his anger. If she says one more word, he’ll sneak into her new apartment and kill her and the bastard who’s banging her brains out now. “I got a job to do.”

Robert hangs up the phone. He’s not done with the body yet. The client wants proof that her husband is dead. She’s a naughty one, Robert thinks to himself while getting the saw out. Well, all for customer satisfaction.

The doctor is not happy. He tried anything to make sure his business was flowing. Sadly, some people try to stop him from being successful.

“You had to cross me, didn’t you?" He looks down at his former partner and sneers. “We could’ve made so much money. But you had to find your conscience.”

Steve kicks the dead man, grunting as he’s bleeding on the brand-new carpet at his office. Killing his partner wasn’t in his plans for today. It’s not the first time he got his hand dirty.

If Steve were honest, he’d admit that he likes to get his hands dirty. As a doctor, he should save other people’s lives, not take them. Still, he can’t help but feel excited about his latest decision.

Watching the family grieve over the death of their recently killed father and husband, God furrows his brows. He never understood human emotions. The man he killed was a tyrant. He betrayed his business partners, terrorized his family, and cheated on his wife.

The man remains in his hideout to watch the family and friends mourn their loss. Lately, he likes to stick around to watch their reaction. Some scream. Others silently cry.

God likes the ones who put on a show for others the most. He did so all his life. Pretending in public that he’s a normal guy.

The truth is, he feels hollow because he never belonged...

Andy Barber steps out of the courtroom with his head held high. He won another case and can’t help but smirk as his opponent seems to be salty.

“Barber,” the prosecutor says, venom in his voice. “Congratulations on letting another monster go free.”

“If you wanted them in jail,” Andy says, and he dips his head to watch his client smirk at the victims of his cruelty, “you should’ve been a better lawyer.”

Andy walks toward his client, a spring in his step to shake the monster’s hand. He smirks and assures the man he deserves to walk out of the courtroom as a free man. Andy squeezes the man’s hand hard, making him wince. Who would’ve thought a lawyer could be so strong?

The serial rapist ends up dead after the accused was acquitted for lack of evidence. Lloyd recites the newspaper. “I see you’ve been very active lately, Barber. Do I need to remind you to keep it low?”

“No one asked you,” Andy shoots back. He doesn’t know why he’s still coming to the so-called self-help group. Andy doesn’t feel guilty for killing his clients. Who else would punish them for their crimes? “They had a choice, Hansen. It wasn’t me letting him go.”

“He’s not wrong,” Ransom says between munching a cookie and sipping on the expensive mochaccino he bought on his way to the group. “Baber got a point there.”

“Who asked you, amateur?” Robert sneers. He just can’t stand Barber or Drysdale. They are not worth his time, or so he thinks. He’s fine with Hansen and the guy calling himself God. They are like him—professionals. “I don’t even know why you, Mr. Lawyer, are here.”

“I invited them,” Hansen grunts. “If you want to leave, you can go anytime. I founded this group, not you.”

“Man, stop making a fuss!” Pronge shows his palms. “I only wanted to point out that they are not professionals. What if the cops find out about their hobby? What if they decide to get a deal and rat us out?”

Lloyd snorts. He looks at the black leather glove hiding his prosthetic fingers. “No one rats Lloyd Hansen out. We all agreed on complete secrecy. What we discuss here stays within this room.”

Andy rubs his bearded chin. Coming to the group to talk about the crimes he committed helped him improve. Lloyd and God even gave him advice on how to make his crimes look like accidents. “I’m going to therapy now,” he admits. “Not to talk about my hobby, though.”

“Therapy, huh?” Lloyd taunts, while Ransom smirks. God and Robert busy themselves with checking their phones for new clients. “I hope you’re not talking about our little group with the doctor.”

Steve sneers. “Don’t call these incompetent wannabes doctors. They are by all means nothing but pathetic losers trying to tell you how to live your life.”

“No one asked you, Dr. Frankenstein,” Ransom snaps at Steve. “Did you work on some nice asses and tits lately?”

“Shut up,” Steve jumps up, knocking his chair over. “At least I got a job, and I don’t live off my family’s money.”

“Shut up yourself!” Ransom puts his cookies aside and throws the rest of his mochaccino at Steve.

“Gentlemen!” Lloyd yells at Steve and Ransom. “We come here to talk about our problems and help each other improve. I didn’t come here, freezing my ass off on the way to watch you fight like girls over the latest fashion trend.”

“The therapy helps me more than coming here,” Andy raises his voice. “Your advice was good, but I think I’ll stick to her.”

The men stop fighting and stare at Andy.

“Her?” Lloyd licks his lips. “You’ve got a pretty little doctor for your therapist? Why didn’t you tell us before? We would’ve been all ears.”

“Why does this make a difference?” Andy cocks a brow. “She’s got a good reputation and listens to me. I talked to her for months, and she never pressured me into talking about my family.”

“Boohoo, your wife killed your murderous son and is as dead as your latest victim,” Lloyd mocks Andy. “Let’s talk about that pretty ass you’re seeing. Show us her reputation and shit.”

“Why?” Andy sighs deeply. He knew it was a mistake to talk about you and your sessions.

“For science,” Lloyd grins and snatches the phone out of Andy’s hand. Before Andy can protest, Lloyd throws the phone at God, nodding at him. “Unlock it, and look for the doc.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He didn’t come here to talk about some therapist. “Can we go back to business? Barber has a therapist. Maybe he even bangs her. Who cares?”

“Bangs her?” That picked Lloyd’s interest. “Not the worst idea. Maybe as a new version of therapy. Fuck all the bad memories out of her sweet cunt.”

“Got it,” God says and throws the phone at Lloyd. Y/N Y/L/N,” he recites your address and contact information. “She looks cute.”

“Cute?” Ransom laughs. “I didn’t know the word cute in your vocabulary. Show me.” Ransom walks toward Lloyd to look at the phone in his hands. “Not bad. Hey Barber, does she have a cute ass too?”

“Why are we talking about some woman? If our meeting is over, I’ll go back to business,” Steve says as he gets up. He wants to walk past Lloyd but glances at the phone. “Hmm…I’ve seen her before.”

Steve snatches the phone out of Lloyd’s hands. He looks at the pictures of you, licking his lips.

“Stop stalking my therapist,” Andy angrily says. “Can I get my phone back now?”

“I remember now,” Steve exclaims while staring at your pictures. “She accompanied one of her patients. They wanted surgery, but she talked them out of it. I hated her.” He shrugs.

“I bet she’s an uptight little doctor,” Lloyd muses. His smirk darkens as he looks at the men he brought together around two years ago. “Barber, did you already have a taste? I bet she tastes like strawberries.”

“Hansen, that is enough,” Andy grumbles. He snatches the phone out of Lloyd’s hands and turns to leave. “This was a waste of time!”

“Not to me.” Lloyd clenches and unclenches his fists. “I think I found something that will help us improve as a group. You all came here to talk about your problems and to get better at what you’re doing. I think this sweet doctor will be a big help.

Tags in reblog.

[whateverisbeautiful]

Do you have any fav moments with Rick/Carl, Michonne/Carl and/or Michonne/Judith from the show? (I don't mention RJ since he didn't get a lot of screentime)

Yes! I wrote them out below. It was particularly hard to narrow down my favorite Michonne and Carl moments since I love so many of their exchanges but after some thought, I think I was able to solidify my fav Rick/Carl, Michonne/Carl, and Michonne/Judith moments. I wish RJ would have had more screen time and one-on-one moments with Michonne in TWD. If ever we see the Grimes family again, I’d love to see some Rick/RJ and Michonne/RJ moments to add to this list. 

Favorite Rick/Carl Moments

1) When Rick first gives Carl the sheriff hat after he’s been shot in season 2. That storyline with Rick quite literally trying to give everything he could of himself to keep Carl alive was always really moving. And I also love this season 2 scene when Rick has a very honest and transparent conversation with Carl.

2) When Rick and Carl are gunning down those walkers during that chaotic night at the prison in season 4. It showed how this father and son are cut from the same cloth and the layered look Rick gives Carl as he sees how much his son has adapted to this world is so memorable to me.

3) When Rick and Carl have that conversation toward the end of 4.09 and Rick tells Carl about how he’s a man now and Carl tells him about how he ate all that pudding. After all their tension and conflict in that episode, I love the way they started to repair their connection at that moment. 

Favorite Michonne/Judith Moments

1) When Michonne holds Judith for the first time at the prison. That is one of the most beautiful and touching scenes of TWD to me. It’s such a powerful moment watching Michonne go from barely wanting to hold the baby to fully embracing her and letting out a lot of the emotion she’s kept inside about Andre. Danai did an incredible job depicting the moment Michonne goes from distant to mother. And the way she and the baby look at each other before the embrace is so special, especially knowing those two will truly be mother and daughter.

2) When Michonne and Judith have that conversation in 9.14 and Judith says “You’re my mom. You chose to be. Because you love me and I love you.” I loved hearing that. I also always love the way Michonne uses her shirt to patch Judith up and just seeing them get to open up more as a mom and daughter. In 9.14, I also was really glad to hear the younger Judith call Michonne “mommy,” since I’d been wanting to hear that for a while. I don’t like the excessive brutality and trauma they put Michonne through in 9.14 and that they tried to land on the message that Michonne should actually take care of all these communities more, even when they don’t extend nearly the same care for her. But what I do like about the episode is Danai and Cailey’s great performances and that Michonne and Judith got multiple scenes to depict and strengthen their relationship.

3) I feel like I’m forgetting some other Michonne/Judith scenes that might’ve made the list, but from what I can remember, I always really love that quick scene in season 8 when Michonne says goodbye to Judith and says she’ll be back soon with her daddy. So so so cute and I love that the first time we hear Judith speak it’s with her mom Michonne. 

Favorite Michonne/Carl Moments

1) When Michonne gets the family photo for Carl in Clear. I love that their bond was cemented in that moment. And it’ll always be so meaningful that Michonne hands Carl a photo of his mom while also going on to become his mom herself. I also really appreciate when she reveals she went in to grab the rainbow cat as well. I think it was a great choice to have her grab the cat sculpture for her rather than it being like a toy for Carl or something, because she was also offering up a bit about herself through it. Beforehand she probably seemed more stoic and had more of this black cat energy but in grabbing this rainbow cat it showed Carl that there’s a playfulness and bright vibrancy to her too and it was sweet seeing the way that moment endeared her to him.

2) When Michonne and Carl go on that run in 4.11 and open up about Michonne’s past. (Also honorable mention to their soy milk conversation in this episode). I love how eager Carl was to get to know her more and how Michonne found such a good balance between treating Carl like an equal and a kid. It was great seeing Carl want Michonne to feel assured that everything she was sharing was safe with him and it never fails to move me when he tries to offer them both some comfort by saying maybe Andre and Judith are together somewhere.

3) When Michonne and Carl have that heart-to-heart in the woods after the Claimer situation. That scene really showed the way in which they trust each other and can confide in each other about even the deepest darkest things. Michonne fully became Carl’s parent in season 4 and that was evident in so many scenes, including when Carl rests in her lap. I always really love their talk in the woods because Carl clearly feels super safe with Michonne and Michonne feels safe with him to share the hardest details from the day she lost her family. It’s so meaningful to hear Michonne say that Carl and Rick brought her back and to assure Carl that he doesn’t have to be afraid of her or his dad. And the fact that Carl felt like he was just another monster too is so sad but it makes it extra important that he had someone like Michonne in his life to admit that to and feel less alone with.

4) When Carl and Michonne have that conversation on the porch in season 6, just before Rick and Michonne officially become Richonne. I love that in explaining why he didn’t just put Deanna down himself, Carl basically confirms that he views Michonne as a mom. And you can see in Michonne’s expression that she knows Carl saying “I’d do it for you’ is him saying that she’s a mother to him. I love that Judith is included in the scene too (and that it truly sounds like she says ‘Michonne’ when Michonne approaches.) It’s also sweet how the scene starts with Carl telling Judith about the North Star and then Michonne arrives, as she’s truly like the Grimes family’s North Star. I love that this scene between Michonne, Carl, and Judith was included just before Michonne and Rick had their romantic moment because it affirmed that these four were already family in every way that's important.

[chelsieb]

For the sake of lightening my country's mood, here is a fluff filled chapter from my Good Omen's long fic.

I love you all and I hope we'll be ok.

Excerpt-'Corner Office with a View (Broke My Wings so You Could Fly) - Chapter 41

.......

“You’re enjoying it?” Aziraphale didn’t try to hold back his delight.

He was standing with Crowley in his large, minimalistic bedroom, taking in his “library”.

“I was enjoying it.” Crowley admitted.

He showed him where he’d marked his page in one of many books, tucked underneath his large bed.

“I do wish you didn’t dog ear the poor thing.” Aziraphale pouted.

“I would have miracled you a bookmark at any time…or handed you a leaf from a tree.”

“This is what I was reading, before all the apocalypse business happened.” Crowley explained and snapped the book shut.

“Shax may have let me grab a few of these…but there was no way in Hell I’d let her see them.”

“Why ever not?” Aziraphale took the copy of ‘The Magpie Lord’ and held it to his chest.

“Demons don’t read.” Crowley scoffed and sat on his bed.

“Most of them can’t, so you can imagine how it would effect my reputation.”

“But you do it anyway.” Aziraphale was smiling so big.

“After all your nay saying and teasing me about my shop. You have the beginnings of your very own…”

“I do. Though, nowadays I mostly download them on my phone…” Crowley took a deep breath and resisted not speaking his mind.

“Download?” Aziraphale wondered to himself.

“But why? Never in a million years would I have…” he was chuckling, as he lifted the covers to look under the bed.

Row after row of neatly stacked books, shoved back as far against the wall as possible.

“Because they’re important to you, and…agh, never mind.” Crowley huffed and started to stand.

“Please don’t say never mind.” Aziraphale’s voice became soft as he sat next to him on the bed.

Crowley groaned and let his face fall to his hands. He muttered something that Aziraphale couldn’t hear.

“I’m sorry dear, I didn’t catch that…”

“Reading made me feel…close to you.” Crowley spoke out of the side of his mouth and refused to look up.

He missed Aziraphale practically puffing up with joy. Like a pleased owl.

“You’ve had quite the crush on me.” He teased and scooted close enough to lean on Crowely.

“I loved you.” Crowley quickly corrected him and finally looked up.

“Oh…” Aziraphale’s confidence fled as he sat straight.

“For so long. I didn’t know that’s what it was, I just…God, it just got to where I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Crowley went on.

Aziraphale wasn’t used to him talking this way. Especially about him. He’d never have imagined…

Crowley stood to face him and tried to find the words.

“We’d go years without seeing one another. Then you’d pop up in a cafe, or one time…you were sitting on a blanket, in a field of flowers.” He smiled to himself as he remembered.

“All lit up by the sun. Reading. Always with your nose in a book. Just a bizarre little angel with a human habit.”

“Bizarre?” Aziraphale frowned.

“Bizarre enough to keep me interested.” Crowley knelt on the floor in front of Aziraphale’s legs.

“Bizarre enough to make me wonder about you day and night. It was irritating, if I’m being honest.”

He laid his head in Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale pet his hair and listened to more of his silly flattery.

“Living alone would get unbearable, so I’d search for you. I told myself I was going to bother you…give you some trouble.” Crowley looked up and closed his eyes when Aziraphale held his face.

“But you always looked so happy to see me. No one had looked at me like that before…” he sighed and pressed himself closer.

"Not since I'd Fallen, anyway."

Aziraphale felt a strong sadness for his partner, that he'd always barely held back.

Crowley hadn't noticed and kept spilling his sweet, teasing words.

“You were always in the middle of the most mundane…cutest…human task.” <p>

Still playing nonchalant, he snickered and laid his head back on Aziraphale.

“Your magic tricks. And you bought that bookshop with money you earned. Weird little angel…”

“Says the demon who treats his car like it’s his own child.” Aziraphale kindly teased back.

“The Bentley is my baby and you’ll keep it out of this.” Crowely only half joked and pulled himself up to stand.

“Though, I’m not surprised it likes you better.” He said as he lifted Aziraphale’s chin.

“You’re very likable, Angel.” his voice was low as he ran his thumb along Aziraphale lower lip.

“Oh, well I’m sure your plants miss you terribly, in the very least.” Aziraphale reassured him.

He was too busy kissing Crowley’s hand, to see his head jerk towards the door.

“They’re not dead?” He whispered.

[sanccharine]

05:53 | mm

pairing: assassin!momo x handler!reader

summary: good speakers are good liars, too bad momo is neither. co-written by @eternallyghosting chapter summary: momo needs a fucking break

warning: feelings of anxiety and burn out, brief mentions of killing and weapons (generally assassination related themes)

word count: 5.8k

a/n: assassin!momo is here early bc of indigo, everyone say 'thank you indigo' !!! NEED TO MAKE THIS EXPLICIT AS POSSIBLE, AS USUAL I DIDN'T DO SHIT <3

“Good work in Johor Bahru, 64. The organization wants you to leave for Bergen right away. Proceed to the airport immediately. I’ll be sending over travel details soon.”

You were met with silence.

“64? Can you hear me?” Momo didn’t answer. 

You sighed, “64, I know it’s a bit of a long flight.” That was the understatement of the century. “But at least that’ll give you some time to recuperate before the next mission, right?”

“I don’t need to recuperate,” Momo mumbled. 

You hesitated for a moment. Clearly, she needed the rest, you didn’t know why she wasn’t being honest. 

“Listen, 64, I know it’s hard—” you began.

“I don’t think you do,” Momo let out a derisive laugh. You swallowed the rest of your sentence.

“Alright, I’ve obviously hit a nerve but I think—”

“I’m not asking you to think! Or sympathise! Or whatever it is you’re trying to do,” Momo spat. “Maybe just do your part of the job and I do mine, yeah, Hippolyta?” 

This was a new development. But not unfounded.

“Sorry,” she said after a few seconds of awkward silence, the waver in her breath caught by your sensitive earpiece. “Sorry, I’m just tired, alright? Please go on.”

“Uh, alright, as I was saying. After this, your Costa Rica mission has been pushed forward by a week. The client wants the cartel taken out as soon as possible,” it was difficult to give her the next order. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave for San Jose as soon as you wrap up in Bergen, 64.” 

You tried not to let the disappointment show in your voice. Your organization was currently going through an overdrive, which meant more missions kept piling on, leaving no rest for Momo. It had been weeks since you had last seen your wife, last hugged her, or held her. 

She reflected your disappointment as she just sighed. It must be harder for her. 

“Hey, 64,” it was so hard to be personable when you couldn’t say her name. You hoped your voice made up for it. “I’m sorry, I know—”

“You know nothing!” 

Whatever calm had come across her in the last few minutes instantly vanished. 

“You know nothing of what it’s like! What it’s like to be out here for hours on end! To stalk and hunt and kill! Actually, you know, it’s not even about lying in the dirt, or carrying around heavy weaponry, or eating shit for days just to stay undercover. That I can deal with,” Momo let out another scoff. “It’s the waiting that gets to you—it’s the travel, it’s the constant seeking of approval just to get back home… ” 

Once she started, it was hard to control everything bursting out of her. Although she had become pretty comfortable with Hippolyta, and often shared random conversations with them, this was the first time she had let anything personal spill. You couldn’t help but startle initially, but now you just sat there taking the verbal lashing. This wasn’t your fault, you were aware of that much. So why did it feel like it was?

“Mo… hmm, I—” you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying her name. Your heart ached for her. Not just because she was away from you, but also because you couldn’t share this burden with her. You couldn’t help her lighten the load.

Not as her handler. Not as her Y/N. 

You waited for Momo’s breath to even out. When she didn’t say anything, you decided to start again. 

“I may not know what it’s like being out on the field,” you had to tread carefully here. “But I do understand what it’s like being away from your loved one.” 

Your breath hitched when you admitted that. Neither of you had ever let something this personal come into your agent-handler relationship before.

“It’s just the kind of job we signed up for,” that’s all this was. A job. “I won’t deny it’s a shitty situation, but after that one week, you’re done. You can go home. I promise you that.”

The long silence almost had you double-checking the connection of the call.

“Hey, 64, you there?”

You were met with silence.

“Agent, I need an affirmation.”

“... Alright,” she whispered.

It wasn’t much, but you’d take it. After all, Momo had never strayed from official orders before. Not enough to risk her job, at least.

“Wait, what? So you’re telling me—”

“Yup, I’m in Bergen right now.”

“Woah, how did that happen? That must’ve been an insane journey!” you sounded fake to your own ears. You hoped Momo didn’t catch on.

“Yeah, remember when I didn’t answer any of your texts a few days ago?” Momo let out a laugh, there was no mirth to it. “I was on a plane the whole time.”

“I just assumed you lost track of time playing Candy Crush or something.”

That did bring a real laugh out of her. 

“Well, that too,” she said. “Did you know I’m on level 651 now?”

“Real impressive, babe,” you said toying with the earpiece, discarded on the coffee table from your last call. “But anyways, when are you coming back from Bergen then?”

She paused. You saw her pacing around her stuffy hotel room as she hesitantly answered. “Well, actually, I don’t think I can come home right away. They’re sending me to Costa Rica tomorrow.”

“What? Why?” you couldn’t help but glance at yourself in the tiny box on the screen from time to time. You hated how fake your expressions looked, how you couldn’t be honest with her even when she needed you most. 

“I’m so sorry. It’s some internal management thing,” Momo let out a frustrated groan. “They need someone who’s at a higher position to open up the San Jose branch. Just my luck it happened to be me they chose.”

Momo’s disappointed tone broke your heart. You knew this was coming, of course you did, but hearing it once again from your wife’s mouth made the distance much too real all over again.

Still, you tried for a smile. 

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure San Jose will be fun. I’ve heard they have amazing museums there!” Knowing how upset Momo was about the constant travel made you want to try harder to be supportive. “Maybe you can go and take goofy pictures in front of the sculptures like we did that one time in Prague, remember?” 

Unfortunately, it seemed that no efforts to cheer her up would work this time. She let out another long groan and threw herself on the bed. Bringing the phone really close to her face, she said, “I really just wanted to come back home. I’m sorry I keep doing this to you.”

Shit. Of all the times to have video called Momo. 

Averting your eyes from her teary ones so that you wouldn’t cry too, you attempted to comfort her. 

“I know how tiring it must be to constantly travel, don’t beat yourself up over it, Momo. And don’t worry about me, okay! I’m fine, truly! I’ll keep everything up and running here while you whip rookies out there into shape. It’s what we do, right?” you were trying to convince yourself instead of her. “Besides, Mr Jones invited us for dinner and I know you really don’t want to have to sit through that again, right?” 

“Still, though,” she whispered, “you shouldn't have to go through that by yourself. I'd rather sit through that than here all alone.”

Oh Momo. If only she knew that you were aware of what she was going through.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll distract him and ask about his ‘good ol’ golfing days’. That’ll have him chattering on for hours,” she chuckled at that, although it was muffled since half her face was pressed into the pillow. “And I’ll also go down to the store and buy those berries you like so I have a pie ready for you when you come home. We’ll spend our time relaxing. How does that sound?”

She nodded sleepily. Momo must be exhausted to the point of falling asleep right there on call.

You doubted she heard you but said it anyway.  

“Have a good night, Momo. I love you.” 

[11:52] Momo: im boarding now Y/N: Have a safe flight! See you soon <3 Momo: me too, cant wait to be home aaaaa Y/N: I’ll be waiting with your pie!

[16:37] Momo: just landed! Y/N: How was the flight? Momo: eh Momo: were you gonna pcik me up or should i take a cab Y/N: You’ll have to get a cab, sorry. I tried rescheduling it but the town committee meetup is at our place tonight. Momo: omg i legit forgot they still did those Momo: i can take a cab dw Momo: you must be so busy Y/N: Yeah, I’m just making sure all the snacks and drinks are ready. Y/N: Might have to make one more grocery run actually.

[17:20] Momo: found a cab Momo: should be home in 40 mins

She sighed. You must be really busy or else you rarely left her on read.

As the cab neared your street, she could see a crowd of people already gathered around the house. This was what living in a small town was like. Everyone knew each other, and so of course, offered to get together to help for any event you held, no matter how small. 

They have nothing better to do with their lives.

Okay. Perhaps, that was a bit harsh. 

Thankfully, Momo managed to slip into the house, unnoticed by all the townsfolk laying out chairs and tables filled with plates of snacks that you had made. Her stomach grumbled upon seeing all the food, but she hurried upstairs into your shared bedroom before dropping her suitcase and rushing to change out of her travel clothes.

What she really wanted was a long hot shower, maybe even a soak in the tub, but fresh clothes would have to do for now. On her way out of the room and down the stairs, she bumped into you.

“Y/N!” she yelled the same time you screamed. “Momo!”

This would be an incredibly stupid way to die, the voice in the back of your head said, you shushed it quickly and leaned on the stairway railing. The shock had subsided quickly and was replaced by elation; you hugged Momo as hard as you could with the cutlery in your hand.

You broke apart apologetically. “I’m sorry, I wish you could take a rest but the meeting’s starting soon and we’re still missing a few things.”

“No worries,” Momo shrugged it off, though there was no energy in her voice. “Anything I can do to help?”

You passed over the handful of cutlery to her as you hurriedly stated, “Yeah, could you just lay these out for me? And I think we still need to pour some juice for all the kids.”

Momo nodded and went down the stairs two at a time. As she rounded into the kitchen, she wished she’d taken a minute to mentally prepare herself for all the questions the neighbours would no doubt ask her.

She was right. As soon as she went over to the table, she heard. “Oh Momo, when did you get back? Y/N was telling us how you were away for really long.”

Momo forced on a polite smile, she had no idea who she was talking to. Perhaps having files on her neighbours might help, she thought to herself. She made a mental note to ask Y/N how they remembered all these people. “Yes, I had to travel quite a lot for some business-related things, but I’m just glad to be home now.”

“Where was it you went to? Malaysia, was it?” Momo’s vision blurred for a second. “I remember Y/N telling us we had to cancel the meeting two weeks ago.” 

“Mhmm, Malaysia. Then Norway. Now, I just got back from Costa Rica.” Might as well just tell them everything. Sure, why not. Momo tried not to be scornful, she really did. 

“Good Lord, Momo! How do you even manage all that?” That was something Momo wondered herself. “It sure is nice you have Y/N to manage everything here for you while you’re away.”

A burning sensation grew at the corner of her eyes, she would’ve rubbed them if her hands weren’t full of forks and spoons. 

It was a seemingly unharmful statement. 

Well, no. 

There was a bite in there somewhere, Momo was just too exhausted to dissect it. 

Momo ignored the scratchy feeling in her throat and turned away hurriedly, mumbling something about getting the juice out. As she approached the refrigerator, she unceremoniously dropped the cutlery on the counter. She opened the fridge, the cold air doing little to alleviate her tension. When she pulled out the carton of apple juice, she was undertaken with the sudden urge to leave. Being at this gathering was taking more of a toll on her than she had thought.

Momo needed to be alone. Now.

She walked into the pantry and into the cabinet Y/N made sure to leave empty ever since they’d found out about her meditation space. Well, Momo thought bitterly, it wasn’t just a meditation space now, was it?

Momo crouched down, hugging her knees and seeking comfort in the familiar darkness. She could still hear the faint voices of people as they rushed around the house, but this was the best she could do right now.

When Momo closed her eyes, she could feel every muscle pull taut. A headache bloomed at her temple, building down her face until even the act of breathing felt painful. She tried to focus on the warm scent of the ciabatta loaves you always had stocked up. How the bread broke and crumbled as she took a bite. How adamant you’d been to get the best stand mixer available. How you took your time to shape the dough and how Momo had flattened it with one motion. 

What she wouldn’t do to just have a simple sandwich with you. 

No loud music. No clanging cutlery. And definitely no nosy neighbours.

Just the two of you.

The pain seemed to slowly ebb away, she could finally breathe. Momo had no idea how long she stayed like that. She didn’t want to leave but she couldn’t even text Y/N to apologise for leaving them alone because she’d forgotten her phone with her luggage.

However, she didn’t have to wait long before the pantry door opened. 

Momo hid herself deeper in the cabinet when a knock came on its door, an excuse ready on her lips should she be found…

“Momo,” your voice was soft, she wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t pressed to the door. “It's me.”

Momo visibly relaxed when she heard Y/N.

“Can I come in?”

The answer was the opening of the cabinet door.

As soon as you lowered yourself onto the floor, Momo launched herself into your arms, clutching onto you as though her life depended on it. Confused by the sudden outburst but also suspecting what could have brought it on, you just gathered her closer and gently brushed her hair with your fingers.

“How did you… ”

“Find you here? Couldn't see you in the crowd so I figured,” you shrugged.

“Can we... can we just stay here for a moment?” she sniffled, burrowing her head into your neck.

“Momo, you don’t even have to ask. I’m here for you.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long time intertwining your limbs against each other. You rubbed up and down her arms gently, taking deep breaths so she’d mirror you and relax.

When her breathing returned to a normal rate, you pulled back slightly to look at her face. Although still pale from hunger and exhaustion, she looked considerably better than she had a while ago.

“How’re you feeling?” you whispered.

“Still tired, but I’m okay now,” Momo said, her voice raspy. “Thanks for staying with me.”

You took a moment to take her in. The dim light couldn’t hide the bags under her eyes or how bloodshot they were. She had a pallid complexion, something you would’ve rushed to treat, but instead, you had this stupid meeting to run. But even then, Momo tried to put on a smile for you, as small as it was. Smiling, you pulled her in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. 

With a sigh, you pulled away from her. Her face was held up by your hands. “Although there hasn’t been any yelling or crashing yet, I don’t think it’s right to leave them without a host for too long.”

Momo languidly nodded her assent even when the rest of her body reacted differently. She pressed her forehead to yours until your noses were touching. 

Momo deserved to rest. And you wanted that for her too. If possible, you would have stayed here like this all night long. But alas… 

“I should probably head back,” you whispered. Momo only hummed. “but you can stay here longer if you—”

“No,” Momo mumbled. 

“No?” you asked, not wanting to pull away first. 

Momo did it for you. She exhaled a deep breath before pulling back, her eyes finally looking at you. 

“No, that's fine,” Momo said, shaking her head before helping herself up. Then she extended a hand to you. “We should host together, shouldn’t we?”

“We really should,” you took her hand and pulled yourself up. “I’ve already canceled this three times, I think they’d flip out if it was only me out there,” you said with a grimace. 

Holding hands, you exited the pantry together.

Thankfully, everyone was too caught up in the snacks you’d made to comment on your disappearance. Momo just ignored the few stares thrown her way. Making your way to the front of the living room, you called for everyone’s attention and began the town meeting, steadfastly holding onto Momo’s hand the entire time.

Although the townsfolk had also helped in clearing up after the meeting, there were a few things only you two could rearrange as the people living in the house. You wanted Momo to go upstairs and rest while you quickly cleaned up, but she was as stubborn as ever and refused to leave your side. Fortunately though, having two people definitely made the job go quicker, and before long, you were heading into the en-suite to draw a bath for Momo.

You turned off the hot water at the temperature you knew Momo liked most before adding a spoonful of lavender bath salts to the water, your gift to Momo from when she had returned from a mission complaining of sore muscles. She smiled gratefully at you as she slipped into the tub, leaving you to once again sit on the cold floor beside her. Not that you minded, you’d take any proximity you could get. The both of you just sat there, basking in the comfortable silence as Momo relieved her weary body.

Eventually, you spoke up, making sure to be cautious in the way you approached this topic. “Do you want to talk about what happened downstairs?”

Momo looked at you with a look, a knowing one, but she turned her eyes away quickly. 

“What? About Hector?” Momo managed to laugh, it almost sounded real. “Yeah, it was funny when he stood up and demanded we vote for a stop sign near the corner store, only to realize we’ve had it all along and he needed to change his glasses prescription.”

“Momo,” you took her hand that was laying on the edge of the bathtub. “Seriously.”

She finally turned to face you with a sigh, deciding not to run away this time. 

“I was doing as you said, the cutlery, that is,” Momo’s finger intertwined with yours, she trained her focus on your joint hands. “Someone was asking me questions, I don’t know who, asking about my job and where I’d been and whatnot… and then suddenly,” she paused to take a deep breath, her eyes filling with tears.

You brought your other hand to engulf hers and rubbed your thumb across the back of her hand in circular motions.

“Suddenly, out of nowhere, they said something about how I’m lucky to have you manage everything around here while I’m away,” she trailed off, a small scoff escaping her. Momo mumbled, but you caught every word. “Well, not out of nowhere, they are right. I am lucky. I’m never here.”

“Momo…” 

She continued, talking through her tears, not bothering to wipe them away as they slipped down her cheeks. 

“I just… you’re the one who always has to manage things around here. I just feel bad, you know?” Momo straightened, turning her whole body to face you as an odd resolve washed over her. “Like, I’m always busy flying around somewhere but you always accommodate me and my work. But I don’t do anything like that for you? Actually, what do I even do?” At that, you wanted to stop her, but she kept going. “I guess I feel incompetent? I’m just equal parts grateful for you but also, I feel guilty.”

That was a lot to take in. Momo was never one to bare her soul, so for her to say all this meant she had been bottling it up for quite some time.

“Well, I see it differently,” you leaned in as you formed the words in your mind. “You’re doing all this to provide for us and you work so hard for it. This house, everything we have, is all possible because of you. I could never be upset about that, Momo.” 

“I guess,” Momo sounded unconvinced. “But like maybe I could do more local work? That way, I could stay at home with you and work?”

“As tempting as that is, I can’t ask that of you. I can’t say I don’t miss you when you’re gone. And of course, I love having you around.” 

You spoke slower so the words sunk in. 

“But you’re doing what you have to do,” you tried to be as vague as possible when saying the next few words. “I mean, your company sends you all over the world because you’re a hard worker, and a really good one at that. No one is going to be able to do what you do anytime soon and I’m proud of that. Of you.” 

Momo didn’t say anything, she was staring at something behind your head. Her eyebrows were furrowed together; for once, you couldn’t tell what she was thinking. 

“But the work itself… ” she trailed off, still staring into the distance.

That confession, if that was what she was planning it to be, had you on alert. You had to be careful here. Somehow, you had to glean Momo’s feelings about her ‘actual job’ without asking outright questions about it. 

“What about the work, baby?” you asked. The term of endearment felt sour on your lips. Momo didn’t look at you. 

You had to bite your tongue from interrogating her. Is it monotonous? Is it stressful? Are you having second thoughts about killing? Do you want to be transferred? What’s wrong? What can I do? How can I fix it?

She didn’t speak for a long time. 

Panic was beginning to sink its claws into your skin. You were a good liar, but not that good. 

Fortunately for you, Momo began once again. 

“The work… I mean, sure, every job has its own boring routine and mine does too. It is exciting at times and I’m good at it too, which I can’t confidently say for a lot of other things,” you wanted to interrupt her and tell her how wonderful she was, but she spoke over you. “And I don’t really want to quit right now because we’re also earning decently.“ 

“Enough for an early retirement in the Swiss Alps, right?” you uttered before you could even think about it. 

When she had first been accepted as an agent by your organisation, Momo had excitedly jumped around your tiny one-bedroom flat. Making big talk about how the two of you would buy a cottage in the Swiss Alps and go skiing every day in the winter and strawberry picking every day in the summer.

Reminiscing about the memory bought a real smile out of her. “Exactly.”

But the smile slowly faded as she kept talking. “I just… wish I didn’t always have to keep traveling. I barely get a few days with you before I have to fly out again. And I know that’s a part of my job, it's just that this time around was too long.”

You silently agreed. What was the organisation thinking, making an agent go three weeks out in the field, one mission after the other. You don’t even recall how many cups of coffee you’d downed just to keep up with the time differences. 

“Well, you’re here now,” you placed a kiss over your joined hands. “And we’re going to make the most of it. Hopefully, you get more than a few days this time.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” she repeated, although she sounded anything but.

You bit back the long sigh and nudged her instead, looking for a way to divert her attention. “I couldn’t tell you before, but your pie’s waiting for you in the fridge.”

Momo sat up at that. You jerked back to narrowly avoid being splashed by water. “Me too! Well, not a pie but I did manage to bring back a dessert called Cajetas this time. I didn’t have time to taste it but the lady selling them told me they’re a staple.” 

Her eyes finally regained their usual shine at the mention of the two of you sharing desserts. It had been a longtime tradition for you to bake her favorites when she came back from a long journey, and for her to get local items you both could try together.

“Unfortunately, I’m too stuffed now,” she finally relaxed into the tub, tipping her head back. “Those finger sandwiches were delicious Y/N. What did you put in them?”

“Love,” you said dreamily, before pressing another kiss to the hand you were holding. Momo pulled away and cringed. “What, too much?” you laughed, “besides, I don’t think they were that amazing. You were just really hungry,” you said, poking her shoulder.

Momo just hummed as a comfortable silence fell over the pair of you.

Although the bathwater would’ve been cooler by now, she looked too comfortable to be asked to move. 

By the time Momo finally got out of the bathtub and into the towel you were holding out for her, the water had gone completely cold.

“Ugh, my skin is all wrinkly now”, she complained.

“Hmm I don’t know, it’s giving me a good idea of what you’d look like in another thirty years.”

“And?” she twirled around. “What do you think?”

You gave her a once over. “I think… I think I’ll stay with you for more than thirty years if that’s what you’re going to look like.”

After a quick change into your respective pajamas for the night (with you having to change again due to a mock water fight you two had), you ushered Momo into bed.

“Are you not sleeping now?” she asked, when you didn’t get into bed with her.

“Just about to, don’t worry,” you replied, straightening her edge of the comforter, effectively tucking her in.” Mariko asked for an order of cupcakes for her kindergarten class next Tuesday, so I’m just going to make a note of that before I forget.” 

She pouted, drawing out an arm from under the covers and pulling you down by your sleeve. Leaning down, you had no choice but to look right into her puppy-dog eyes, nearly shutting from exhaustion were it not for Momo resisting her body, fighting to stay open. “I wanted to cuddle but I’m already,” she broke off into a yawn, “falling asleep.”

You kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, I’ll be back before you know it,” you whispered.

“G’night,” she mumbled with drooping eyes.

Your demeanor changed the minute you left the bedroom, gently closing the door behind you. Throughout the evening, you’d noticed how burnt out Momo seemed, and this late-night conversation further proved that she desperately needed a rest. You grabbed your laptop and keyed in a call to your organization, late hours be damned.

“Hippolyta to HQ. Calling in regards to Agent 64.” You waited for the call to go through.

After a few minutes of having to listen to the ridiculous call tone they had put in (seriously why on earth would someone want to listen to that Piña Colada song while they waited to make a serious report), you were about to pull out your earpiece and give up when a bored robotic voice answered, “Hippolyta, your call has now been cued. State your report and wait for an agent.”

You cleared your throat before saying. “As her handler, I believe Agent 64 is in need of a short leave, allowing her time to recuperate and be mentally on track for any and all future missions.” Hopefully, that should be enough to get an agent connected to you.

After another couple minutes of listening to the godforsaken song, a voice sounded on the other end. “This is Baklava to Hippolyta. Your report has been recorded. Do you have other details you wish to share?”

“It’s exactly as I said before. I noticed a change in Agent 64’s behaviour and mental state through her last couple missions, and I believe it would do her good to take a temporary break.”

“Agent 64, huh? Let me see, I’ll pull up her file here.”

“Oho,” you heard after some shuffling on the other end of the call, “so this is the infamous Agent 64 and Hippolyta. I see. Well, I’m afraid I have to deny your inquiry and cannot grant her the break.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, surprised that a decision had been made so quickly. “Why?”

“Clearly, her being your wife makes it a point of personal interest. We can’t really have that, so she’ll continue on her missions as usual.”

“Excuse me, but in all these years, I have never let personal feelings get in between our working relationship.” You could feel your anger rising and had to be careful not to raise your voice too much, lest Momo wake up. “In fact, as her handler, I have made sure to push her exactly as much as she needed to get her missions done. She has a ninety-eight percent success rate, only possible because we don’t let personal feelings get in our way.” 

“Nah, but in this case, Agent 64 has not filed for a break herself. You doing this on her behalf shows vested interest.” 

You didn’t know if it was because of the late hour, but this conversation with Baklava was going nowhere and you were starting to get frustrated. You sighed.

“What’s the matter, Hippo, going soft for your wife? Is that it?” the voice sneered.

You saw red. No one except Momo was allowed to call you that. 

“Grant Agent 64 the break or else you’ll lose not only your best assassin but also one of your best handlers,” you gritted your teeth.

The line suddenly cut.

Fuck.

You didn’t really want to have to go through the whole process of reporting your inquiry again, but for Momo you would do it another hundred times.

Just then, a new voice was heard through your earpiece.

“Hippolyta, this is Shooting Guard. Your report has been transferred over to me.”

Shooting Guard… the name was familiar to you.

“Hippolyta speaking. Not sure how much of my report was transferred over but it’s in regards to Agent 64.”

“Oh yes, I know about your wife, Hippolyta. What’s the matter?”

It suddenly hit you. Of course Shooting Guard was a familiar name. He had been an agent a year above you at the training centre, a hardworking and calculative senior, but friendly once you got to know him.

“Well, I know the organisation has been working through some things right now—” you heard a scoff on the other end, “but 64 has been on individual missions for three weeks straight. She would never say this outright but I can tell the constant travel is getting to her. As… as her handler of course, not her partner,” you hurried to add, lest you were misunderstood once again.

To your surprise Shooting Guard said, “I believe that being her spouse makes you all the more attuned to how she’s doing Hippolyta. And with your spotless record so far, having a spouse as a handler doesn’t seem to be working negatively at all.”

“Does that mean you can get her leave approved?” you asked, hopeful.

“Well, that’s the difficult part. In your words, the organisation is working through things right now,” he chuckled without mirth.  

“Please, just get her a psych eval or something. Anything that grants her a break,” you were coming across as pleading when you should have been firm, but Momo’s wellbeing was at stake here.

“Let me see what I can do.” You heard him hum as he clicked on various files, rearranging calendars and rescheduling appointments, no doubt, before he finally broke the silence.

“I can give her two weeks. That fine?”

“More than fine. Truly, thank you, Shooting Guard,” the stress visibly left your shoulders.

“Don’t mention it. The agents around here need a fucking break anyways.”

You logged off the call once you got the final approval that your report had been accepted. You couldn’t wait to see Momo’s joyous face when she would break the news to you tomorrow. But for now, sleep was calling.

As you made your way back upstairs, a smile spread across your face at the thought of spending the next two weeks with your wife. When you entered your bedroom, Momo was fast asleep, sprawled across the large bed, somehow taking up enough space for two people. You shook your head fondly as you turned off the lights, slipping in beside her. As if sensing your presence, she pressed herself closer to you, wanting to be together even in sleep. You looped an arm around her torso and held her tight. 

Yes, you certainly were excited to spend two weeks with her. But most of all, you were glad your bed would be warm with her presence again.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: so that poll... y'all be impatient as fuck (and i be lazy as fuck bc i think i was the only one who voted for this being split JLDFKSHFK) anyways happy misamo day and have a good day/night !!

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @happilychaengs

[oneirataxia-haechan]

They find out they weren't your original bias

Boynextdoor hyung line x reader (established relationship) (jaehyun's is long sorry) ultimate masterlist maknae line

Sungho

isn’t bothered by it one bit.

a bias is just a bias, you chose him for love.

you were actually the one to tell him one day during filming.

you just told him out of the blue, no rhyme or reason for it at all.

he thinks it’s cute that Jaehyun was your first bias.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While watching the other boys shoot new stuff for the album, you and Sungho were just aimlessly chatting about anything. Enjoying each others company during his busy schedule, and seeing your babies do their thing. Jaehyun was up next for his solo shooting. As this was going on you leaned in toward Sungho, eyes still focused on Jaehyun being Jaehyun. 

“You know, Jaehyun was actually my first bias.“ Sungho grinned from ear to ear, letting out a little giggle. Then you looked at him, confused by his wide grin.

“W-w-what?” You questioned between nervous laughter.

“That’s pretty adorable to be honest.” While talking neither of you had noticed Jaehyun finished and was walking up to yours and Sungho’s cozy spot.

“What’s adorable?” Jaehyun questioned, hoping for a compliment. Both of your eyes widened as you both smiled, turning to him. 

“You as always Jae!” You started cheerfully.

“You did great as always!” Once he was out of ear shot Sungho touched your arm as you turned to look at him. 

“Please don’t tell Jaehyun, Sungie.” You were basically pleading with him.

“I want to keep it between us too. If he found out he would never let either of us live it down.” Putting out your hand for Sungho to shake, he took it and you both giggled about your deal.

Riwoo

nonchalant #2. 

not as chill about it as Leehan but pretty chill.

doesn’t care when Leehan mentioned that Woonhak was your first bias because he knows you bias him now.

Riwoo also knows that you think his dance skills are top tier. because they are

he also doesn’t mind because you laugh hardest at his jokes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were playing games with Woonhak when your phone lit up a few times in a row, catching your attention. Glancing down at the sudden light, distracting you from the game for a few seconds. This quick distraction causing you to die. You weren’t too upset though, picking up your phone to check it. 

my dancing king: Leehan told me about your little secret

you: girl what

my dancing king: do you like playing games with your original bias most?

You giggle out loud, making Woonhak’s curiousity grow, as he looked in your direction.

you: yeah I love playing games with woon, he’s great at them!

You knew he was messing with you and was probably disappointd he couldn’t fool you as easily as he’d thought. 

my dancing king: good thing your taste has improved.

You hadn’t noticed Woonhak peaking over your shoulder, hearing a whiney

“heyyyyy!~” 

“He’s just being annoying Woonie don’t worry.” You both laughed and continued your game.

Jaehyun

doesn’t believe it for a second but once it sits with him for a couple minutes he begins to overthink.

Sungho had accidentally let it slip around Jaehyun, not even sure the reason he had brought it up in the first place.

you told Sungho while in a sleepy state one late night, that he was actually your original bias.

Jaehyun will distance himself from you and from Sungho until you are caught up to what happened.

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During a group hang out Jaehyun had been noticibly distancing himself from you and Sungho. it was more noticible with you though. Sungho could see you getting visibly upset about your boyfriend's actions, so he asked you to talk with him outside the room. He knew exactly why Jaehyun was acting this way but he wanted to let you know exactly what happened. Sungho felt majorly guilty once he realized what he had done. There were a few hours in between this incident and the group hangout. Hours that Jaehyun had been alone, sulking to himself, and brewing in his jealousy. Sungho began telling you about what happened and that he didn’t even think about how it could've hurt Jaehyun. When he watched you and Sungho step out of the room together he immediately got really hurt and upset, on top of his overthinking from the past couple hours. He excused himself from the remaining boys, charging towards the door. Just as you both were about to head back into the room, Jaehyun flew past. a large gust of wind drew distance between you and Sungho, making just enough room for Jaehyun, as he stormed away. You both looked in the direction he was heading, then at each other, knowing your private chat probably escalated his already racing thoughts. You couldn’t decide if you should go after him or give him some space. Deciding it would be best to go after him you said bye to Sungho, asking him to apologize to the other boys on your behalf. He apologized to you one last time with extra sorry eyes as you parted ways. 

As you arrived at the dorms you closed the door behind you, calling out for Jaehyun lightly, not wanting to scare him. There was only silence. You began walking down the hall towards his room. Empty. Now you were getting more worried than before but decided to try the other rooms. Both empty, until you landed in front of Sungho’s room. As you drew closer to the door you heard quiet sniffles. You lightly knocked, beginning to open the door and enter.

“Jaehyun..?” You questioned as soft as possible. He scooted over on the bed inviting you to join him.

“Baby, why are you in-“ Before you could finish your question he sniffled again and cut you off.

“Is Sungho hyung still your bias?” You wanted to laugh at the ubsurd question, but you knew how his brain functioned. Sighing you turned towards him, cupping his face in your hands. Seeing his red nose and wet eyes shattered your heart to pieces. You kissed his forehead and smiled.

“Myung Jaehyun is mine. Myung Jaehyun is my baby. Myung Jaehyun is my forever bias.”

He blushed and giggled. Then he took your hands, put your arms around his waist and nuzzled his face into your neck.

maknae line here