#it's just not something i'm a part of anymore

[the-cats-noodles]

Everytime I see this, everytime, someone brings up marriage as an exception and I can't help but think, really?

I get it, promises are important (to death do us part, which is in and of itself an unrealistic standard but whatever i dont have time to talk abt that) but I feel like people forget that marriage for love is relatively recent? The point of marriage being to join households and pass on property is much older (and the origin of the whole "only death can make us separate" bc property and inheritance) like, the reason people stayed together was bc of duty not love and that was a very different environment than the one now (which is good) but it still means we're talking about a standard that is unrealistic in our current environment (not to mention the insane amount of murder over not being able to get divorced in the past, like it's a very good thing we can end marriages now)

There's nothing wrong with marrying someone and wanting to stay with them forever (we chose to do this for love and that was good actually), but can we stop pretending this idea is universal?

Making a promise is all well and good, but people change and their promises do too.

Like, yes you keep growing as you get older and yes you might grow closer with your partner (and that's perfectly normal and okay) BUT you might also grow apart and that is ALSO PERFECTLY OKAY

Saying that marriage is something to exclude from the idea of decentering permanence is kinda ignoring all the people who really shouldn't be staying together but "have" to (for the kids, reputation, etc) and anybody involved definitely feels that dynamic shift...

Just, yeah "keep your promises" but also know that breaking them is a part of life and its much better for both parties if you break a promise instead of wither away trying to uphold it for some perceived sense of duty or obligation to people whose opinions literally DO NOT matter

(If you wanna be with one person forever? great! If they don't agree bc they don't love you anymore? Oh well, tough luck, I guarantee you'll be better off letting them go then forcing them to stay in a legal contract, which is what marriage becomes when you don't feel love for the other party anymore)

Also I get most people don't want to force someone to stay in a situation that makes them miserable, at least I really hope they don't, but when (as a society) we place more importance on the whole 'till death do us part' bit and less on the 'I love you and want to show it' (or even say the only way to show it is to hold onto that person forever) then it kinda forces people into this idea of "having" to stay

And look, counseling is great, it can work wonders, but it is NOT a miracle worker. It can't fix everything and it doesn't have to bc A LOT of marriages aren't broken they're just fizzling out

Am I making any sense? Who knows, but I was raised in a community where ending a marriage or relationship was worse than cheating bc "marriages are work"

They are, but you also retire from work when it becomes a strain and you can't do it anymore. You can quit a job if it doesn't fit. I'm not saying marriage is a job, but I am saying that if we expect marriage to involve work we can expect it to reach the point where people just DONT WANT TO DO THAT ANYMORE and that's okay

I'm begging: please stop insisting marriage is different from other relationships in this regard bc it isn't. It's sweet and a wonderful experience but it's still just a love between two people and we can't expect that to be magically enough to stop the natural progression all relationships go through.

You lose friends over time but some stay around. You lose family over time (like, no contact in this case not necessarily through death) but some stay around. You lose lovers and partners over time but some stay around. And that's okay, u just don't see how the last one is somehow expected to have more weight.

(Which I believe was op's point? That they're all temporary and that's a good thing actually)

Like everything is temporary, it's just sometimes that temporary lines up with our lives bc we ourselves are temporary beings, and it's okay if it does and it's okay if it doesn't.

I think a lot about how we as a culture have turned “forever” into the only acceptable definition of success.

Like… if you open a coffee shop and run it for a while and it makes you happy but then stuff gets too expensive and stressful and you want to do something else so you close it, it’s a “failed” business. If you write a book or two, then decide that you don’t actually want to keep doing that, you’re a “failed” writer. If you marry someone, and that marriage is good for a while, and then stops working and you get divorced, it’s a “failed” marriage.

The only acceptable “win condition” is “you keep doing that thing forever”. A friendship that lasts for a few years but then its time is done and you move on is considered less valuable or not a “real” friendship. A hobby that you do for a while and then are done with is a “phase” - or, alternatively, a “pity” that you don’t do that thing any more. A fandom is “dying” because people have had a lot of fun with it but are now moving on to other things.

I just think that something can be good, and also end, and that thing was still good. And it’s okay to be sad that it ended, too. But the idea that anything that ends is automatically less than this hypothetical eternal state of success… I don’t think that’s doing us any good at all.

[valentina-writes]

The Distance He Keeps

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and you have been best friends for centuries. But all of a sudden he won't talk to you anymore.

words: 1.5k | Masterlist

This is a 3 part series. The other parts will be released in the next days. I hope you enjoy xx

A/N: I honestly don't know if any of y'all are still here, but I'm kinda back! This was not requested, it's kind of a try at starting to write again. I can't promise that I'm going to be really active again and for now I'm not taking requests. We'll see how it goes :)

I was late for dinner, I realized as I hurried through the front door and foyer of Rhys's townhouse and into the dining room. The inner circle, my friends, my family, were gathered around the long wooden table. All of them were already here, eating, laughing and talking. Their words didn't quite reach me. The only empty seat was my usual one, next to Azriel, who had his wings neatly folded behind his back and was engaged in conversation with Rhys. I squared up my shoulders and excused my late arrival: "Hi everyone. Sorry I'm late, work was terrible". The latter was directed mainly at Rhys. I'd have to have a talk with him later. The rest of my friends greeted me, smiling. Only Azriel didn't. In fact, he did not even look my way. My heart froze in my chest. He had been ignoring me for weeks. My breath hitched as I waited for any sort of reaction, but he resumed his conversation as if I weren't there. My eyes started burning at his disregard and I fought to regain compusure. For a split second I contemplated winnowing away on the spot. But this was our first dinner like this in weeks and I could make this uncomfortable for him too.

With long strides I walked over to Cassian, who was seated next to Nesta. I stopped next to him and he happily said "Hi Y/N". Well, this was going to be awkward. My only response was "Move". The conversations around me came to a halt as Cassian's expression turned to amused confusion. "I… what?". My heart hammered in my chest and heat rose to my cheeks. I did not dare look up to see if Azriel was finally acknowledging me. "I said move", I repeated. And then, quieter, so only he could hear it "Please". He stood up without conplaining and from the look I saw in Nesta's eyes, I gathered she must have said something through the bond to make him comply. I slid into Cass's seat and started to fill my plate as conversation around the table resumed as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. For 300 years I'd had my spot at this table. I had never sat elsewhere. Until today. I mumbled a thanks to Nesta and started eating, when I felt Rhys at the edges of my consciousness, stroking softly against my mental shields to be let in. In response, I slammed a second wall down and shook my head at him slightly. He didn't try again.

Dinner was tense. I tried talking to Nesta, but I was so busy not to look the way of the tall shadowsinger that several times she had to ask her questions twice before I realized she was still talking to me. Nobody addressed my entrance. Inside me, my blood was boiling, my heart a pile of glass shards. I had tried to excuse Azriel's behavior during the past weeks. Most of the time I convinced myself that he was simply too busy with work to spend as much time with me as he used to. But this was different, we were at home for Cauldron's sake. He was supposed to be different here, he was supposed to welcome me with a warm hug and hand me seconds at dessert. How could he all of a sudden not care anymore at all? I was so lost in thought that I barely registered Rhys standing up and proclaiming: "Excuse us, Y/N and I have to talk about her work". For a second, I merely stared at him, then I dropped my fork and knife on the table and stood up. It was comically obvious that this was not about my work. When we had just crossed the threshold into the foyer, I heard somebody whispering: "Azriel, what the fuck is going on?". His only response: "I need to go".

Rhys brought me into his study and shut the door. I sunk down into one of the armchairs and waited for him to take a seat. Instead, Rhys leaned against his ornate desk and rubbed his forehead as if in pain. "Y/N", he started after a while, "please, what is going on between him and you?". Pain flared through me at his mention. "Nothing". Rhys's lips twitched into a smile and then he was laughing. "You have been part of my inner circle for more than 300 years. Azriel, I know even longer. He is like my brother. Don't think I wouldn't notice that there is something terribly wrong". Tears burned in my eyes again. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep this from Rhys. Maybe it was a good thing, being able to confide in someone, I beckoned myself. Things were horrible already. This would merely be the last nail in my already finished coffin the Mother had built me. "The day after starfall I came into work", I said, a tear sliding down my cheek. Rhys came closer and knealt down in front of me. "And he just… wouldn't talk to me". A sob escaped my lips. Rhys took my hand in his and his face turned into a frown. "At first - I - he…. I thought he was just busy, but it didn't get any better. It only… only got worse". Tears were now streaming down my face. I could barely see Rhys out of my teary swollen eyes. "We haven't talked in weeks. Months even. At work, he doesn't let me go on any missions and instead makes me do paperwork. We don't train together anymore. We don't spend time anymore. Worst of all, he won't even look at me and I just don't understand what I did wrong". The last sentences were almost inaudible over my sobs. Rhys gently pulled me up by my hands and drew me into a tight hug. My hands clasped around his back and I cried and cried until his shirt was wet and my eyes dry. "Do you want me to talk to him about this?", he asked softly. But I shook my head no against him. "This is bad enough as is. I don't want Azriel to withdraw even more. I thought we were best friends. But I'm so… alone", I croaked. Best friends. We had been inseperable for so long, I almost didn't remember a time before Azriel. His bedroom was next to mine. We worked together, trained together, ate together, spent our free time together. And now that he was gone, the better part of my life was missing. Tears threatened to well up again, but I surpressed them. Rhys hummed softly. "What do you think could have caused this?". I rummaged through my memories, trying to take ahold of the root of all evil. And was catapulted back in time to starfall.

Azriel looked radiant in his dark blue suit, the same color as his siphons. Slow music was playing and we were entwined, dancing to it, as the first souls began their journey across the night sky. My cheeks were flushed from being so close to him and was grateful for the darkness surrounding us. Instances like this one were rare. He almost never let anyone touch him, not like this, at least. "It's so beautiful, isn't it?", I asked him, "But isn't it sad how all souls have to make this journey alone?". He stopped our movements and looked away from me at the sky, as if for the first time that day. "It is. But I don't know if they are truly alone. Wherever they go, I think they will meet again". Thousands of comets rained from the sky. I smiled at his thought and hugged him a little tighter. I hoped he was right. No matter what came after this life, whatever existence the Cauldron had in store for us, without Azriel it would be meaningless. "Do you think we will see us again?" Our eyes met. The golden specks in his were glowing in the starlight and my breath hitched at the softness of his gaze. There were a million questions in this simple one. Words that had been stuck in my throat for hundreds of years, that always went unsaid, that I had been choking on for eternity. "I will find you, no matter where. I promise". My heart skipped a beat. "I love you, I always have", I wanted to say, but it only came out:"And I will find you". His wings cocooned me in, blocking out the noise and light. When he unfoldet them again slightly, we were standing on a deserted terrace under the stars. "Azriel, I…" His face came closer, our lips almost touching - but there was somebody watching.

"Get. The fuck. Out. Of. My. Head. RHYSAND", I nearly screamed as I wound myself out of his embrace. "We are very good friends and I know you know almost every thought in my head. But this. This is fucking private". Now, I was seething. How could he? My innermost thoughts, my most guarded memories. I wanted to curse the Mother for putting me through this misery. "I don't know if you noticed, but all of your walls were down. You were practically inviting me in", he reasoned, eyes glinting. "Again, you can see anything you want. But not this", I repeated. My hands balled into fists at my sides. Thick iron walls fell down around my brain, shutting him out. "Interesting", he mused, chuckling to himself. "I think you should talk to him. I don't think you need to worry at all". I was already striding out, planning on fetching Cassian to channel my anger into sparring. "I love you, Rhys, you're like a brother to me. Please keep that in mind when I say go fuck yourself". A hearty laugh sounded from behind me and a whisper in my mind said: "Soon you will understand"

[twstfanblog]

Heyyyyy so uhhhhh…

What if the mc back in their world was a slave? Not servant like jamil, just, straight up slave where their opinion didn’t matter :( n they r female, afab, pronounce she/they? Hopefully nothing bad happened but people who get slaves r bad people so :((( overblot boys pls 🙏🥺

I feel like they would all threaten crowley to absolutely NOT look for a way to send mc home n to stop making her do his things cause that reminds her of back home in a very bad way :(

N then they comfort n hold the mc cause they r safe n wont have to be treated like shit anymore :(

They will punch anyone who treats em like shit

Which practically everyone in school did when they arrived at NRC, and they just thought ‘this is normal��. :(

Overblot Boys React to Slave Reader

Overblot Boys x Reader

Riddle

Lowkey saw you as an ideal student. Polite, respectful, and mindful of the rules. So he wouldn't notice anything past a few odd ticks that he himself wouldn't fully question since his own upbringing was shitty.

It takes him and Ace having an argument, Riddle brings up that Ace can learn a thing or two from you on being a respectful student. And Ace fires back on you being a SLAVE. Of course, his overbearing ass would love that. And Riddle has to really think about what kinda person that makes him that he didn't even notice.

He talks to you, wanting personal confirmation on what Ace had blurted out. Once he gets the confirmation, his attitude gets much softer. You don't get as harsh treatment for rule-breaking, but he's still stern about them.

End game, he makes up a secondary set of rules for you only. Rules like 'We say something if we are uncomfortable' or 'We are allowed to say No'. He just gets much softer but remains true on rules being important. He just also stresses that you should have your own personal rules now.

Leona

Clocked immediately you came from a background of servitude, though he wasn't aware how severe it was.

He didn't plan on getting invovled but his little bleeding heart took Ruggie under his wing for a reason. It was one part pity and mostly annoyance seeing you getting bullied by his dorm everyday.

You basically get 'Leona's Servant' boot camp with Ruggie suddenly. He teaches you how Leona likes his laundry tended to and what snack flavors he prefers. It's a smooth transition from slave to servant until Ruggie tells you it's free game to steal from Leona.

Leona never brings it up, but he knows your old home was not a good environment. He also knows he can't just fling you into a healthier dynamic with those around you, so he'll do it slowly and sneakily. Ruggie is the perfect one to bridge the gap for him to start spoiling you.

Azul

Knew something was off but had no real frame of reference. He would make little theories and try to figure out why you act the way you do. He only started thinking you had come from a background of servitude when you follow orders so quickly.

Honestly doesn't know how to feel because he did do slavery in tricking the contracted students into working at the lounge against their will. He's not entirely sure how to save face with you after he's come across as a cruel and unfair slaver. Lowkey uses his overblot aftermath as an excuse for a fresh start with you.

He starts treating you kinder, making sure to address you properly and showing that he respects you. People from his dorm follow his lead, at least. The Tweels are part-time bodyguards, making your old bullies more hesitant to start anything because an eel might slip out of a crack or something.

Azul is a sneaky one too, slowly helping you raise your standard of how you should be treated by others. If you get him blabbing long enough, he'll slip into just stating how precious you are to him.

Jamil

I'm sorry, even with the English sanitation, Jamil’s situation can only come across as slavery to me. He's a very well cared for slave because Kalim adores him, but a slave none the less.

It's a little jarring to him to see someone who really could understand. But he's so used to keeping himself guarded he never reached out in a friendly sense. Treating you more like a new coworker; helpful but distant. It wasn't until you accidently broke something in Scarabia and nearly had a panic attack when Kalim looked at you does he realize how severe punishment was back in your world.

Gets much softer to you. It's sad because he does love and care about you, but he would not allow you to be with him long term. You've managed to come to a new world where your old masters can't reach you, you're free. Don't waste it following him back into a life of servitude.

Jamil would understand you the best so he'd be the one to really push and guide you to trying new experiences with your freedom. Wants you to be selfish and use your friends' kindness to make your life better. If he never gets his dream of being able to travel the world he wants you to be able to.

(Should the miracle happen and he and Kalim have the conversation finally, Jamil would go globe trotting with you. He legit has thoughts of just not going back and disappearing with you.)

Vil

I don't think he'd mean anything malicious by it. But he would end up treating you like a purse dog for a while.

Vil has a strong and cemented personality and sense of worth. Dealing with someone as passive as an abused slave, he would easily bulldoze over them and not really notice. Because he'd basically have you on the 'Betterment Plan' he has Epel.

He saw the potential and just kept going because you never said stop. Lots of beauty routines, he picks outfits for you for outings, basically has you as his shadow before either Rook or Epel bring up how he's running you ragged.

Vil never dealt with someone who's come from the situation you did. The very idea that 'No' wasn't a boundary you were ever allowed horrified him for a bit. But like the queen he is, he doesn't try to defend his misstep and goes right into correcting his behavior. The introduction of choices was the best start, but you slowly start saying no to events and choices and Vil couldn't be more delighted.

Idia

Lowkey, I'm not sure if he'd notice in any capacity until you told him point-blank. Idia is the one of the boys who sticks mostly to himself and he'd avoid you if he saw you constantly being hounded by other students.

But, if you managed to get close enough to him, he'd question why you always freeze up when your bullies call you? Why running isn't an option you take? And then you'd tell him about where you came from and how running never ended well for you or the other slaves...

He's not one I think would actively try to curb your behaviors but it would effect his own. Now when he sees you being bullied there's a high chance he'll use what power he has a housewarden to get them to leave. When he's sneaking around, he'll catch your eye and give the mental offer to come hide out in his room with him. He becomes a legit safe space for you to just breath since no one but Ortho really enters his room.

He's had to stop you multiple times from cleaning his room. Yes, it's a mess. No, you don't have to thank him by cleaning. Yes, he's aware you can also keep his stuff organized for him while you clean. You don't have to clean, you aren't his maid. (He is terrified he will ruin your friendship the second you find anything embarrassing under his piles of junk. Like a body pillow, or a 18+ comic, or a stray love note he wrote you-)

Malleus

Adorable you think the bonds of slavery from an unknown world matter to him. Malleus is...a prince, a crown prince at that. I don't think he has 'slaves' but with servants of royalty, I'm never really sure. But anyhow, this boy hasn't been told no enough in his life and it shows.

So when you try to back away from the friendship a bit under the fact of you being a slave and not...worthy of his princely company. He just decides you aren't a slave anymore. Just wills and speaks it into existence. There, it's fixed. You can continue being his beloved child of man, now come. He has a new gargoyle he wants to show you.

Fae to me have favorites, and they love to keep an eye on them. So god help some poor schmuck who tries to bully you into doing their work after Malleus has decided you don't do that anymore... You start saying No and leaving the situation with much more effectiveness because the other choice is Malleus making some poor student drop out for fear of their life.

Malleus canonically ignores the autonomy of others for his own gain. So it would be a really weird balance of him simply stating that you are your own being capable of choice and that your old-world status as a slave doesn't matter here. But with that new free status, you are also his best friend, who will come on night walks with him, talk with him, and make friendship bracelets.

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 21

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: Angst, tension, arguments, hurt.

Nick and I stand there, frozen.

My stomach drops to my ass.

Christina is in Matt’s bed.

Fast asleep, wrapped up in his sheets like she belongs there. It reminds me of when I stayed in his bed in the house.

How could he allow her to do the same.

I feel Nick tense beside me, he's silent but I can almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, like he’s piecing together the same horrifying realization I am.

Then the ensuite door swings open.

And out walks Matt.

Messy hair. Shirtless. Sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Looks like she helped him out last night instead.

The second he looks up, our eyes meet.

And everything inside me stops.

Nick moves first, he could never be silent for that long. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Matt’s mouth parts slightly, but Nick doesn’t give him the chance.

“Seriously?” he seethes, stepping forward. His voice is a dangerous mix of betrayal and anger. “You fucking lied to me. To her.” His arm motions toward me, but I can’t move. I can’t even breathe.

Matt tries to speak.

But Nick gives him no mercy.

“I don’t wanna hear it!” he snaps, his voice rising. “I don’t wanna hear a single fucking word come out of your mouth right now.”

Matt’s face hardens, but he stays silent.

Nick scoffs. “You had one thing to prove, Matt. That you meant it this time.” He shakes his head. “And you couldn’t even do that.”

I can’t stand here anymore.

I need to be in my room. So I turn and leave the room.

Not fast. Not slow. I honestly feel like I'm floating.

I can hear Nick’s voice from down the hall, and he's not letting up easy.

“You either care about her or you don’t, Matt.” His words cut through the thick, suffocating silence.

“So which is it?”

I don’t hear Matt’s answer.

Because I don’t think I could handle it.

Nick’s POV

Y/n turns and walks away, and I don’t blame her.

I watch her go, watch the way her arms wrap around herself like she’s holding herself together, like she has to hold herself together because Matt sure as fuck won’t.

But I’m not done.

Not even close.

I turn back to Matt, still standing there like a fucking idiot, like he’s the one blindsided.

“You’ve gotta be fucking joking.” I breathe, the disbelief thick in my voice.

Matt doesn’t even try to defend himself.

Maybe he knows there’s no excuse.

Maybe he just doesn’t have one.

Matt motions me out of the bedroom before closing the door behind him, the two of us stood in the hallway.

“What, I might wake your precious Christina?” I sneer, pointing at the door. “Wouldn’t wanna interrupt her beauty sleep, huh?”

Matt exhales sharply. “It’s not like that.”

I laugh. “Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that.”

He shakes his head, but I don’t soften.

“I’m so disgusted with you.” I shutter. “I thought you would be real this time. That if you were serious about Y/n, you’d to fucking act like it.”

Matt clenches his jaw. “Nick-”

“And what do you do?” I cut him off. “You self sabotage. Again. Like you always fucking do. Because you never know how to handle something real.”

Matt’s eyes darken.

I don’t care.

I take another step forward. “And Y/n?” I point a finger toward the door she just walked toward. “She’s the realest thing you’re ever gonna get. And you know that.”

He drops his gaze for a second, but it’s long enough for me to see it.

Guilt.

Good.

“You know it” I repeat, voice quieter but my tone stays the same. “And you just threw it away.”

Matt opens his mouth, but before he can get a word out, a door behind me swings open.

“Jesus Christ” Chris groans, stepping into the hall. He looks half asleep, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Can you two shut the fuck up? Rachel’s asleep in my room.”

I whip around. “Oh, of course she is!” I snap. “So what, you’ve got a girl in your bed too?”

Chris blinks at me, like he wasn’t expecting that reaction. “What?”

I throw my hands up.  “Seriously, who the fuck thought it’d be a good idea to bring girls out here?” 

I don’t care who hears me.

I don’t care if I wake up the entire goddamn villa.

Chris shrugs, unfazed. “I did?” looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“The fuck are you freaking out about?” he scoffs. “I like Rachel, so I flew her out. I can do that, you know.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh yeah? And you think that was a good fucking idea?”

Chris crosses his arms. “Why the fuck wouldn’t it be?”

“Because look at what you just caused!” I snap, throwing a hand back toward Matt’s door. “You might not have been the fire, but you sure as fuck were the fuel.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m being real.” I hiss, stepping closer. “I want them out. Within the next two hours. I don’t give a fuck what needs to be done. I want them gone.”

Chris’ expression hardens. “That’s unfair.”

I shake my head. “Unfair?” I scoff. “You wanna talk about unfair? Y/n spent this whole trip thinking her and Matt were finally on the same fucking page, and now she walks in to find Christina, of all fucking people, in his bed? And you wanna stand there and act like I’m being unfair?

Chris opens his mouth, as Matt stands awkwardly next to me.

Chris locks eyes with him.

“Wait, what?” Chris’s brow furrows. “She’s in your bed?”

Matt still doesn’t say a word.

Chris shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Jesus Christ, man.”

I shake my head in complete disgust, looking between the two of them.

“The two of you are fucking idiots” I say, my voice filled with nothing but disappointment. “Absolute fucking idiots.”

Chris exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face, while Matt just stands there, still not saying a goddamn word.

I don’t have the patience for this. Not right now.

Without another word, I turn on my heel and storm down the hallway, heading straight for Y/n’s room on the other side of the villa. My blood is boiling, not just at Matt but at Chris too. They both fucked up, and they both know it.

As I walk away, I hear Chris let out a frustrated sigh before opening his door and stepping into his room.

Matt?

I don’t hear him move at all.

I get to Y/n’s room and try the handle, but the door doesn’t budge. It’s locked.

I sigh, knocking gently. “Y/n, it’s just me.”

A few seconds pass, and then I hear the soft click of the lock. The door opens, and there she is, completely wrecked, her eyes red and swollen, tears streaming down her face. My chest tightens at the sight of her.

“Ah no Y/n.” I mutter, stepping in without hesitation.

Before she can say a word, I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her tightly. The second she buries her face into my chest, she breaks, her sobs shaking her whole body. I squeeze her tighter, resting my chin on the top of her head.

“He’s an idiot” I tell her. “A fucking idiot.”

She doesn’t respond, just keeps crying, and I hold her through it.

After a minute, I guide her over to the bed, and we settle in. She wipes at her face, sniffling, and I wait, letting her take her time.

Finally, I ask, “What happened last night?”

Y/n takes a deep breath, wiping at her damp cheeks before finally looking up at me. Her voice is quiet, shaky.

“It was fine at first” she starts. “Obviously I was so happy for you, then you’s got up and left after Chris did.” She trails off, taking another breath.

“Then Chris came back with them.”

I already know exactly who she means.

“Christina and Rachel” I say, and she nods, pressing her lips together like even saying the name makes her sick.

“Chris kinda insinuated to Matt about them two catching up.. Nate and I felt awkward, so we went and did two shots and when we came back Matt and Chris were gone, it was just Rachel and Christina in the booth.” She says, staring blankly across the room.

“I mean, I knew things had happened between them before, but Matt told me.. he told me he hadn’t been with anyone since..” She pauses, blinking rapidly, like she’s trying to stop fresh tears from falling. “Since that night in the house. And Vegas was after that, so I didn’t think, I hoped, nothing happened. But the second she started talking, I just knew.”

She clenches her fists in her lap, shaking her head.

“She was smug. She kept making these little comments, insinuating that they were a thing. And when I asked her outright how Vegas was, she just smirked and said “WhAt HaPpEnS iN vEgAs StAyS iN vEgas.”

My jaw tightens.

“That was it for me” she says. “I didn’t want to be there anymore. I knew if I stayed, I’d just get more upset, and I didn’t want to make a scene. I just needed to leave.”

She looks at me with tired, blood shot eyes.

“Nate asked if I was okay, and I told him it was just a weird situation, but.. the truth is, it wasn’t just weird. It hurt.” She pauses. “I don’t think anything happened in Vegas.. Well, I didn’t. But the fact that she’s still here, still acting like she has some claim over him, and the fact that he-” Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard before continuing. “That he let it happen? That he didn’t even try to stop it? It just made me feel like a fool.”

I shake my head, anger building in my chest.

“You’re not a fool.” I tell her firmly. “He is.”

She gives me a weak smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Me and Nate ended up leaving then, he didn’t want to stay either” she says. “I didn’t even say goodbye to Matt, but at that point, I didn’t care. I just wanted to be away from it all.”

I nod. “Was anything said at all?”

She sighs. “Nope, when we got back to the villa. I checked my phone, hoping stupidly that maybe Matt had messaged me. I know he’d seen I left. I just hoped that he’d care.”

Her voice wavers on those last two words, and I clench my fists.

“But there was nothing” she whispers. “Not a single message. Not a bit of concern. And I just, got so angry because I knew why I was angry. Because I care. Because I have feelings for him.”

She blinks, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

“So I turned my phone off and went to bed, hoping that if I slept, the night would be over faster.”

I take a deep breath, letting everything she just told me sink in. I already was mad, but now? Now I’m fucking fuming.

I run a hand through my hair, shaking my head. “I'm going to say it again, but Matt’s a fucking idiot” I mutter.

She lets out a small, sad laugh. “Yeah. He is.”

I pull her in again, letting her rest against me.

I let out a deep sigh, rubbing my face. “I feel awful for not being there for you last night” I admit, my voice heavy with guilt.

Y/n immediately shakes her head. “No, don’t feel bad. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were living your life which you deserve, you were oblivious to everything.” She sniffles.

I lean my head back against the headboard, exhaling sharply. “Well, this whole situation has officially shocked me into being completely sober.”

That earns a small giggle from her, and I smile, relieved to see even the tiniest bit of light return to her eyes.

I tilt my head, looking at her. “Do you want me to stay in here for a bit?”

She hesitates for a second before shaking her head. “No, I think I’d like to be on my own for a little while.”

I nod, respecting her space. “Okay. But if you need anything, I mean it, Y/n, just come get me. I don’t care what time it is.”

She gives me a grateful smile. “Thanks, Nick.”

I squeeze her hand one last time before getting up, heading for the door. Before I step out, I glance back at her, still curled up in bed, her eyes staring off at nothing.

I want to fix this for her. I want to fix Matt. But for now, the only thing I can do is be here for her.

So I leave her room, closing the door gently behind me, and head to my own.

Y/n’s POV

I drag myself off of my bed to  push open the balcony door, letting the early morning air into my room. I feel like I’m suffocating in here, like the walls are closing in on me.

I crawl back into bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling nothing and everything all at once. Numbness settles over me, and I let it. I don’t know how long I lie there, my mind running in endless circles, but it must be at least an hour.

Then, faintly, I hear voices outside on the patio. My ears perk up at the low tones, one voice sharper than the other.

Nate and Chris.

I don’t move, barely breathing as I listen.

Nate’s voice is quiet, laced with disbelief. “I just don’t get it, man.”

Chris sighs. “What?”

“This whole thing. I came home with Y/n last night, and I thought-” He pauses, like he’s still processing it. “I thought Matt was different with her. That he actually gave a shit.”

Chris exhales, and I hear the scrape of a chair moving. “I don’t know what the fuck is going if I’m honest.”

Then followed by a pause.

“The girls are leaving soon” Chris says after a moment, his voice more certain. “I told them they have to go.”

Girls? So that means Rachel is in the villa, too.

I close my eyes, pressing my fingers into my temples. The thoughts of the four of them being in that booth all night. It’s not the four it should’ve been.

“Good” Nate finally says, though his voice is distant, still caught up in his thoughts. “That’s good.”

Neither of them says anything after that, just the occasional sound of movement. I don’t know what to do with any of this. Do I go back to sleep and pretend I didn’t hear? Do I stay curled up in bed and wait for them to leave?

I don’t know.

All I do know is that I don’t want to feel like this anymore.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I hear the girls voices outside, light and carefree, like they have no idea the storm they’ve left behind.

They laugh, saying their goodbyes, talking about how much fun they had. Christina’s voice is the loudest, going on about how this trip is "so needed." Rachel thanks Chris for having them over last night, her tone full of gratitude, like this was just some casual getaway and not the disaster it turned into.

“We’ll let you know when we’re back at our hotel” Rachel says smoothly.

Chris responds almost too casually, “Yeah, do that. Hopefully, we can meet later. One on one.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the sting in my chest. Of course. Of course, he’s already setting up another meetup, like none of this meant anything. Like bringing them here, ruining everything, was just some minor inconvenience.

How long are they even here for?

I hear the shuffle of movement. I hear Christina giggle, making some passing comment about how wild the night was, and then the sound of the front door closing.

They’re gone.

But the mess they left behind? That’s still here.

I should feel relieved, but all I feel is exhausted.

I don’t move from my bed for the rest of the day. Not for food, not for water. I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything settle over me. My mind replays every moment, every touch, every look, every promise Matt ever gave me.

Was it all fake?

Did he ever mean any of it?

Or was his plan to play with me all along?

I feel stupid. Completely and utterly stupid. I let myself believe in something real. I let myself believe in him. And now, I’m left here, in this bed, in this villa, drowning in the realization that I was just another girl to him. Another meaningless moment in his never ending cycle of self sabotage.

Tears well up in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I’ve cried enough.

Instead, I just lay here. Empty.

Four more days in this place. Four more days of agony, of being in the same space as Matt, of pretending I don’t care when it’s eating me alive. Within the last 10 days, everything felt different, full of excitement, possibility. Now, it feels like I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

It’s confusing. All of it. The way he looked at me before, the way he made me feel like I mattered. And now? Now he’s just another person who’s shown me that words mean nothing. That promises are empty.

But one thing is clear.

I don’t want to speak to Matt again.

a/n : GET HIM NICK GET HIM (dw any questions you may have will be answered)

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[itsdappleagain]

Hello. I want to introduce an interesting concept that I read about recently called "casteism." It defines the systemic hierarchies in places like the United States. It's going to take race and racism out of the picture for a second. Let's take the US as an example, since I live there.

In America, the dominant caste- those with the most historical legal and societal privilege- are white people. If we want to go further into that, we can define castes in other areas as well, such as gender or sexuality. For example, a heterosexual white man is the most privileged and represented in the United States (always has been able to vote marry, own property, not be considered property, etc.), whereas a queer Black woman is among the least privileged and represented. These hierarchies were instituted a couple hundred years ago with the institution of slavery in the USA, and its our job in the modern age to recognize where the biases we grow up with come from and how we can overcome them.

I don't know if or not you're American, but Tumblr has a huge amount of USAmericans on it and a lot of the shows discussed in this post are American, so lets say it applies.

So, consider this. Was the only representation for white men in media as an insulting caricature of a criminal, thug, idiot, or submissive caretaker to someone "more important?" If you call the cops on a white man for taking a walk in his own neighborhood, does he get shot for it? Did white men used to only be allowed into the country as property? The answer is no, because white men are in the dominant caste in America, and always have been.

So, you were raised in this caste system where white people have always been considered to be above other races, or are influenced by it. There exists messaging and systemic issues everywhere in the US that drill that system into our heads from a young age. Cops and judges are more likely to arrest and convict Black youths for the same crimes that a white kid is given a slap on the wrist for- especially if they are less well off and unable to afford a good lawyer, as is often the case. The convicted person is then behind on education, unable to get a job beyond minimum wage positions, and the cycle of poverty continues.

This does not, and let me really emphasize this to you, occur with white people.

So, let's cycle back around. You said:

"while the comic is about people discriminating against shows with a female lead by focusing on the white guy, the comic implies the show is already discriminative."

So the show is "discriminating" against the white guy by...not having a white guy as the focus?? Help me understand what you're saying here, seriously. If writers and showrunners are able to win the fight to put a non-white woman in the leading role of a show, a role that is just handed to white men and has been for hundreds of years, that's discriminating against the hypothetical white guy by not being about him?

"If somebody is racist towards a white guy, that's fine, because a specific few that aren't even alive anymore were bad people? Well then we can also justify racism against black people, as there have been a handful that've killed and stolen."

How and why do you think that's what racism is??? You think racism happens because someone in their entire race was a bad person at some point??? The issue in the United States is that it used to be legal to OWN SLAVES, and after slavery was abolished (except in prisons) there were still systemic injustices. I could go on for hours on this subject, but I won't right now.

So, okay, let's wrap back around to "That's the exact same attitude biphobes and aphobes have, claiming there's no discrimination against bisexual people or asexual people."

Hi. I'm asexual. No it's not. Your argument for making something not be about the white guy is actually akin to "straight pride." Heterosexuals are part of the dominant caste. Bisexuals and asexuals are not. Discrimination exists because they are different from the dominant caste (straight), just like discrimination existing towards non-white people because they are different from the dominant caste (white), or discrimination existing towards women, intersex, genderqueer, trans, or nonbinary people because they are different from the dominant caste (cis male).

In conclusion, members of the dominant caste who are not and have never been systemically discriminated against don't experience discrimination. I'm white. White people don't experience discrimination for being white. Consistently overlooking non-white, non-male, and/or queer characters in favor of a white male character is an issue in fandom spaces (and other ones, good lord. I'm thinking of the Barbie Oscars).

Others please chime and correct me if anything in this response is wrong concerning systemic racism and everything. I read about a lot of this recently in a book called Caste by Isabel Wilkerson, and I recommend it if you want to read more on America's caste system and how Nazi Germany referenced it when drafting the Nuremberg Laws.

If you comment something stupid and/or unnecessary on this I will reply with critical thinking questions.

[mommyslittlebird]

Prelude

Stepmama!Wanda x Reader

Summary: Things with your mother had never been good, but when you truly couldn’t take it anymore, you turned to the only place you had left.

Word Count: ~2k ish

CW: MOMMY ISSUES, leaving home, references to past/current abuse.

A/N: Please leave your comments and thoughts on this! I’m not really sure where I want to take this series yet, and I would love to hear what you all want to see!

Prelude to Mama

———————————————————

You weren’t exactly sure what would be the final straw in the relationship between you and your mother, but you had always imagined it’d be something big. You always thought there would be one final moment, when she did something crazy, like maybe she would make some threat on your life or chase you out of the house with a knife or set all of your things on fire.

But it wasn’t like that at all.

There were no threats, no shouting, no one even raised their voice. It was just like any other Thursday afternoon, really. You were going through the cupboard, looking for something to eat for dinner. As usual, they were largely empty aside from some dry pasta, some stale potato chips, some cereal that would require milk you didn’t have, and some various unlabelled cans. You grabbed the cereal. You could make something work. You always did.

Your mother came into the kitchen snacking on a bag of Blue Diamond almonds. She shook the bag and held it out to you. “Do you want some almonds?”

You froze briefly. You were allergic to nuts. “No thanks. I'm allergic, remember?”

She tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “No you’re not. Since when are you allergic to almonds?”

Since second grade. You had eaten some at a birthday party and went into anaphylactic shock in a bouncy castle. You had to be taken to the hospital. You ruined the whole party. You cried everyday for the rest of the school year because no one wanted to talk to the weird kid who had to get a shot in her butt cheek at a birthday party. You never got invited to another one. How could she not remember?

You looked at her silently for a long while. This wasn’t worth fighting over. You couldn’t expect her to remember everything about you. But the longer you looked at her, the more it seemed like she might not know anything about you at all. She knew you as her daughter, of course. She knew you as a good student: quiet, reserved, always well-behaved. She knew you as someone smart enough to do taxes, handy enough to fix the broken things around the house, resourceful enough to make dinner even with an empty cupboard. But none of those things were really you, they were all things you did for her.

Did she even know that there was you outside of her?

You had given her the opportunity to. You’d given her many opportunities to. In a lot of ways, that made it worse. You had opened your heart to her only to be told she didn’t want to see it. And here she was, looking at you like she didn’t even know you had a heart to open.

You started to feel dizzy, nauseated by the woman standing in front of you. At first, you couldn’t possibly comprehend that you had come out of her. You seemed so separated that it was impossible that the two of you had ever been connected in any way. Then, it seemed the opposite, that you were never really separated at all. It was now as it had been before you even came into the world: you were a part of her on every level.

And the worst part was, you couldn’t even bring yourself to be angry with her.

Just as you were an extension of her, she was an extension of everything that had happened to her. You could see it swirling inside of her: a maelstrom of trauma, pain, and mental illness. She was just as much a victim as she was a perpetrator. She wasn’t a monster, she was just a sick woman who never got the help she needed.

“It doesn’t matter,” you finally answered.

She shrugged and walked away. You calmly set the cereal back in the cabinet, swallowing your hurt and trying to make it dinner. You leaned forward to rest your head on the cupboard. What were you doing here?

Clearly she didn’t care that you were here. So what was holding you in this house? Why were you choosing this life where nothing was ever clean, there was never any food, and only other person around was a woman who couldn’t even remember your nut allergy.

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you making it hard to breathe. You felt incredibly tiny, yet like you were still taking up too much space. You had to get out of here.

You didn’t even put shoes on before running out of the house, grabbing your keys and throwing yourself into the driver’s seat. You could hardly see the road through your tears. You were in no state to be driving at all, really, but, miraculously, you made it safely across town to the home your dad lived in with your stepmother, Wanda.

Your father, as usual, was away on a business trip. You didn’t know your stepmother that well, but she was a kind woman that you figured would be welcoming. It was your house as much as it was hers, after all. Anything was better than what you were running from.

Going to your father’s house on a week he wasn’t home wouldn’t have been your first choice. Then again, you weren’t exactly in a place to be picky. It was nearly midnight by this point and it was pouring rain. Your father’s guest room would at least have a warm, dry bed for you to sleep in, which was more than you would get anywhere else. You doubted you could even find a vacant hotel room at this hour, not that you had the money for that anyway.

Wanda opened the thin curtain in the dining room when she saw the bright headlights. The driveway was long and far from the road, so headlights were rare, especially this late at night. Her heart jumped to her throat when she saw it was your car. The front door was open before you were even on the porch. You stumbled inside, soaked in cold rain and tears.

“Honey, what happened?” she gasped, running to grab a towel to dry you off. She grabbed a nice fluffy towel, scrubbing your hair dry. She wrapped it around your shoulders, trying to get your frail body to stop shaking. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing but a small squeak came out. You were crying so hard you had to hold onto the banister to stay upright. She wrapped an arm around your waist, bracing you against her own body.

She slung your arm around her shoulder, trying to help you up the stairs. “Shshsh, baby,” she cooed, cradling your head and kissing your temple. “Let’s get you wrapped up and warm. You're gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” She eventually got you up to the guest room, the room she had long considered to be yours anyway. She sat you down on the edge of the bed before turning to grab some spare clothes from the wardrobe. She placed them in a folded pile next to you and knelt down in front of you, placing herself on your level.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe here. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you,” she soothed, rubbing your knee gently. “Just take a few deep breaths for me. Do you think you can tell me what happened?”

“M-mom…” was the only word you could choke out.

She nodded in understanding. “Something happened with your mom?”

You nodded and blabbered, but she could see you were just getting frustrated with your inability to speak.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” Wanda reassured, trying to quell your rising frustration. “Did she hurt you?”

You shook your head. “N-no. It was… well it was stupid, really. She… well, I was hungry… and she gave me… al-almonds.”

“Almonds?” Wanda’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. She rolled up your sleeve and pushed two fingers into the skin of your wrist, as if she was checking whether or not you were alive in front of her. Her other hand went up to cradle the side of your head, pressing her thumb to your cheekbone. “You didn’t eat any, did you? Do you have your EpiPen with you? I have an extra in the closet. I can…”

“No,” you interrupted. “I didn’t eat any. I’m okay. I just… I can’t believe she forgot. I mean I guess I can’t expect her to remember everything about me, but… I don’t know… this felt important.”

“Honey,” she started, tone growing a bit harsher. She wasn’t upset with you, but you could feel the anger radiating off of her. “She could’ve killed you. That isn’t just something that slips your mind. That’s carelessness. A carelessness that could have cost you dearly. God she shouldn’t even be eating almonds in the same room as you! Agh!”

You jumped a little bit. She felt a twinge of guilt. The last thing you needed right now was someone to scare you even more. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

“I know,” you sniffled. “I just… I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. She just forgot…”

“My love,” she started, cradling your face again, “do you know what these sheets are made of?”

You shook your head.

“Cotton. And it’s washed with hypoallergenic laundry detergent. Because I know my baby has sensitive skin, and polyester and scented detergents make you itchy. And you don’t stay here very often, but when you do, you deserve a nice soft bed that doesn’t break you out,” she explained. “I know you may not think of me as your mama, and that’s okay. You don’t have to. But know that I’d sooner forget my own name than forget you take your coffee with two creams and a sugar. It comes to me as natural as breathing. Because that’s what mama’s do. They love. They care. And they never forget.”

“But… she’s… she’s sick,” you stammered. “Her head… she’s… she’s in so much pain Wanda.”

She squeezed your hand. “Her pain is not a crucifix, sweetheart. You don’t not need to martyr yourself on it. She’s hurting you.” She lifted your head, forcing you to look at her. Her voice was quiet, regretful, even. As if it pained her to admit she’d let you live with her for so long. The more you spoke the clearer it became that this problem ran much deeper than almonds. Bile rose in her throat as she imagined what you had been through, even just in the year she’d known you. She should’ve seen it sooner, but she would not let you suffer any longer. “Baby. Please.”

You wanted to argue back: tell her that it wasn’t that your mother was bad, she just had a harder time being gentle and loving. Her head didn’t always work right. That’s why she treated you the way she did: not because she didn’t love or care about you, but because she was sick and broken.

You wanted to tell her that you weren’t weary or afraid of your mother, just that sick part of her. It wasn’t her; it was different. But then you took a long look into Wanda’s eyes. You felt her hand, soft and warm against your face. And you weren’t weary. And you weren’t afraid. There was no monster rippling under the surface, no eggshells under your feet. There was just Wanda. Your mama.

You fell forward, off the bed and into her arms. She caught you, pulling you against her chest and cradling your head into her shoulder while you cried. She gently pet your wet hair, soothing you and rocking you in her arms. “I know, baby. I know,” she whispered, kissing right next to your ear. “You deserve so much better, my love. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything she ever did and didn’t do. I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I would’ve come, if I had known. I will always come for you, I swear. But you don’t have to live like that anymore. I’m gonna take care of you, angel. Mama’s got you.”

You grabbed her shirt, balling it up in your fists like you were afraid she’d fly away. She rocked you, adjusting to sit on the floor with you in her lap. She cried too, remorseful and guilty for every second she let you rot in that house. She cried for the evenings you had gone hungry, the nights she hadn’t cradled you in her arms, and every biting action that had made you believe you were anything less than a miracle. It would never happen again. She would never let it happen.

You felt so small and frail in her arms. What kind of person could hurt a little angel like you? She wanted to burn down the other half of the city just thinking about it. She would drain every ounce of blood from your mother’s miserable veins if I could replace even a drop she took from you.

She rubbed your back and kissed your head, cooing words of reassurance and praise until your sobs turned to sniffles.

“Mama…” you cried softly into her neck. Her heart nearly lept from her chest. That was her. She was your mama.

She smiled, looking down at you. She lifted your head to rub your nose against her’s. “That’s right, baby. I’m your mama, and I’m never gonna let you go.”

[hjparisian]

angel baby - theodore nott x reader

p: theodore nott x fem!reader w: just some fluff, theo pining, swearing, drinking, ooc(?), kinda modern au? (mentions 1996 romeo and juliet) s: after hearing who his crush is being at the slytherin's halloween party, theo decides to impress her with his own costume a/n: i know i know, very late, but i finally got around to finishing this and still wanted to post it

It was a week before Halloween, which to many, was one of the most anticipated holidays other than Christmas. But it wasn't the candy upper year students were excited for. Rather, it was the Slytherin party that would be happening that night.

All the girls were chatting about who they would be for the night. Ideas ranging from vampires to scantily dressed nurses. It was a night to show off.

Theo never cared much about the costume part. The past couple years he settled on skeleton face paint, mainly because his roommate Enzo has a surprisingly good eye for art.

Truthfully, he had planned to do the same again, despite Blaise's insistence on doing something different. But plans had changed for him.

Theo was at the Slytherin table with the rest of his friends as they chatted about the upcoming event of the season.

"I'm so excited for this party," exclaimed Daphne. "Have you guys decided on what you're wearing?"

"I've decided on a black cat," Pansy told them. "Got the perfect outfit and everything."

"Oooh you're gonna look so good Pans!" (Y/N) told her.

"I know, I'm so excited. What about you Daph?"

Daphne smiles. "I'm going to be a vampire." A sound of 'Ooos' was heard after the girl's answer. "What about you (Y/N)?"

(Y/N) giggles a bit before responding, the sound making Theo's heart pick up a bit. "Do you guys remember that one muggle movie we watched during summer?"

"Was it that weird one where that girl and boy died at the end because their families hated each other?" Draco chimes in.

The girl scoffed at Draco's comment. "Well yes, but you know its more than that." The boy rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, I think I want to be Juliet from the party scene."

"Oooh, is that the one where she's dressed as an angel?" asked Daphne. "You're going to look stunning!"

(Y/N) grins, thanking Daphne. Her smile made Theo's lips twitch a bit, wanting to mirror her. A small nudge was felt on the boy's left side where Mattheo sat, smirking at him. Caught red handed.

It wasn't like nobody knew about Theo's crush on his fellow Slytherin classmate. In fact, Mattheo had been the first to know about it, albeit, not by choice. Theo had kept his interest for the girl low key. It was just that Mattheo had notice Theo staring a little too long at (Y/N) one time and had basically got his friend to confess his crush.

After that, Mattheo had made it his mission to help Theo to get with (Y/N).

"I just wished I could have someone be my Romeo though," (Y/N) confided with her friends. "It would make the costume feel more complete."

"He was the knight right?" Asked Pansy. "That would be so cute."

This had caught Theo's attention again. The gears were beginning to turn in his head.

Back at the dorms, Theo was pacing, Enzo and Mattheo watching him from Mattheo's bed.

"So are you going to tell us what's happening or are we going to continue watching you burn a path in the floor?" Enzo asked his dormmate. "Feel like I'm getting dizzy from watching you."

Theo stops his tracks before looking towards his two friends. "I need to find a halloween costume."

Enzo stared at the boy, confused. While Mattheo had a feeling as to what was stirring in his friend's mind.

"You're going to match with (Y/N), huh?" Mattheo asked.

"Finally!" Enzo shouts, startling the other two. "Thank Merlin, I won't have to do that fucking face paint anymore. You know I was getting tired of that shit, right?"

Theo rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Anyways," Enzo began. "What's (Y/N) going to be?"

Mattheo answered. "An angel basically."

"She wants to be Juliet from that movie we watched over the summer." Theo explained to him as he sat on his own bed. "But during that party scene."

"And Romeo here wants to be her knight in shining armor," Mattheo said.

"Ooh. And let me guess, you need our help?"

"No, well, kinda," Theo said. "Help me find the perfect costume."

"And what will we get out of this?" Mattheo had a look of mischief in his eyes.

"Nothing."

"Well. Then you wouldn't mind if I asked (Y/N) to the party would you? Share a drink or two with her, maybe dance?"

"You wouldn't."

"Oh I would," his roommate said. "Unless you do my homework for a month."

"No bloody way."

"Fine. Three weeks."

"Two and that's final."

Mattheo thought for a second before grinning. "Alright, two weeks it is. Didn't think you'd actually go for it though, was just joking a bit."

"Oh you bastard, I'm going to kill you!"

That weekend, the boys had dedicated their time at Hogsmeade to finding stuff for Theo's costume. They had found the items surprisingly quick thanks to Enzo and his eye for things.

The three had ended their day at the Three Broomsticks with Draco and Blaise, who noticed the bags they carried, but decided to not question it (didn't stop Mattheo from telling them what was going on).

The day of the party had come way too soon for Theo's liking. He stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself with the costume on.

What if (Y/N) doesn't like his costume? What if she thought it was stupid and laughed at him? Should he have done this?

So many thoughts and scenarios ran through Theo's mind, he was half tempted to take the costume off and go for a smoke.

"Theo?"

The boy looked towards the door to find Enzo and Mattheo. The two were examing Theo's current state.

"You good?" Mattheo asked. Theo just shrugged.

"Come on mate," Enzo said to him. "She'll like the costume. And if she doesn't, who cares? Now, let's go for some shots. I know Mattheo has been itching for some."

After a few more minutes, Enzo and Mattheo had successfully gotten Theo out of the dorm room and into the Slytherin common room. And true to his word, Enzo had gotten a couple shots into his dorm mates to liven things up.

Things were going alright for Theo. A couple shots had gotten him feeling more loose, but he was still thinking about (Y/N), whose whereabouts were unknown to him.

He was grabbing another drink when he heard his name being called. Confused, he turned around to find the culprit.

"(Y/N)."

"Hi Theo."

The boy took a second to look at (Y/N)'s outfit, or what he thought was a second. He saw how intricate it was, almost like it was a replica of the costume from the film.

She looked like an angel.

"I like your costume," Theo heard her say. Seems like he wasn't the only one looking.

"Thank you. Don't look too bad yourself."

(Y/N) smiled at his comment. "Thanks. Made it myself."

"Well it looks lovely," Theo said to her. "Drink?"

She nodded, taking the drink Theo offered her.

"Who are you supposed to be?" She asked after taking a sip.

"Oh uh," the boy began. "Romeo. From the movie we watched back during the summer. Thought his party fit was cool."

"Really? Well I like it. You look really good Theo."

Theo felt his cheeks heat up. She liked his costume. He would have to thank Enzo (and maybe Mattheo) for his help.

The music in the common room had begun to slow down. Couples gathered with each other and swayed to the music. Theo turned his head and saw Mattheo dancing with a girl, but he was looking directly at him.

'Ask her' Mattheo mouthed to him, discreetly pointing at the girl next to him.

Theo nodded his head at his mate before turning to his crush beside him. Just as he was about to speak, the words on the tip of his tongue were stolen.

"Dance with me?"

(Y/N) looked up at Theo, waiting for his answer. Out of shock, Theo just nodded. Taking his answer, (Y/N) pulled Theo closer to the center of the room where everyone was. She wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands on her waist. Eyes gazing at each other. Everything felt perfect.

"So, why did you choose this costume, Theo?"

He faltered in his steps, surprised at the sudden question. He had two choices, he could be honest and admit his feelings, or lie and say Mattheo made him do it, which is something he would actually do. But the more he looked at her, realizing how close they were, he needed to say the right thing.

"I did it for you."

"For me?"

Theo nodded. "I heard how you wanted someone to match with you to make your costume feel complete. I wanted to make your night special. Because. I like you (Y/N)."

(Y/N) halted her steps, confusing Theo.

"You like me?"

The boy nodded, feeling slightly nervous. "Actually have a while."

(Y/N) took in this new information, nodding at him. The silence between them was killing Theo. He was half tempted to kill Mattheo if she said she didn't like him. Since technically, if he thinks about it, it would be.

As Theo was going through every little thought and concern in his head, he missed out on the girl in front of him trying to speak to him. He finally tuned back into the world when she said his name.

"Hm?"

"Theo, I was trying to tell you, I like you too," (Y/N) tells him with a smile on her face.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Well bloody hell finally," said a voice.

The two turned to see Mattheo looking at the two, seemingly having stopped dancing to spy on this moment.

"Thought I would never see the day come where Theo finally admits his feelings for you. I was thinking I was gonna have to make a move myself."

"Mattheo shut the fuck up." Theo glared at his roommate.

Mattheo stuck his hands up. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you too lovebirds alone. Don't be surprised when Enzo is asking you questions when you come back to the dorm." The Slytherin took his leave, relieving Theo.

"I hate that motherfucker," he mutters, raking his hands through his hair.

(Y/N) chuckles. "Maybe, but I think you don't mind him. You guys are best friends after all."

Theo laughs, shaking his head.

"So, I hear there's a Hogsmeade trip happening next week. Would you want to go on a date there?"

"I'd like that." (Y/N) grins.

[maintitle]

I'm so sorry if I came across aggressive, I feel like maybe I did but that was never my intention. I was just giving my genuine response to the poll.

Your point though is kind of what I meant though. You really liked a show, you gave it your time, and eventually it wasn't for you anymore. You gave it a chance based on your interest. I don't think you ever need to watch a whole show in order to be invested in a ship, I just took this poll as meaning being invested in a show you've never watched before. That's the part I'm having trouble with, if you feel strongly about something give it a chance, and that's exactly what you did! I think my ultimate intent is pretty much that, rather than being a fan on the outside.

Okay I asked my best friend this and they said no, and then I realized I was asking the wrong person and I should ask the "normal about media" website.

Oh I can do a poll!

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Plsss another part of the librarian x vi fic !!! It was so sweet !! Maybe how reader reacts when vi is released?!? anyways ur writing is so beautiful so even if u don’t do a second part thank u for just writing that first one, it was AMAZING

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨. (𝐕𝐈)

warnings: fem reader who works at stillwater's library, former prisoner vi, angst (and comfort of course), making out but mostly tame.

a/n: this may suck i'm going through a bit of writer's block. trying to write this to help push through it so i hope it's still good!!

part one link here

You didn't know what Vi was released for, only that she won't be coming back. Overcrowding is the usual suspect, of course. An influx of criminals since the Jinx riots means there are cells that need filled. Vi's behavior saw a steady improvement. You can't be surprised that she was released.

Still, you think about her. Many times have you sat behind your desk and wondered what she has been up to. You try not to miss her because you want to be happy that she is outside of the suffocating walls of Stillwater, but it's hard when your natural instinct is to look up with hopeful eyes anytime the library door opens. It's never Vi that walks through.

She didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. Only a matter of seconds, and she was back in Zaun. You're left in confliction, and the days pass without a word from her. Is it so selfish to want her to reach out? Or maybe it's you who should be seeking her out. You're not sure anymore. The whole situation feels like a pressing headache.

Each day you work in Stillwater feels unique. Many office jobs are predictable: you sit down on a chair with wheels and type away. You organize papers or make copies when your boss asks so of you. Everything is predictable and organized. The days are same, and you imagine that they blur into one big timespan of a career. You can't exactly say the same for Stillwater on any occasion.

Sometimes, there are times when you seriously wish you could put your two weeks notice in. The time a prisoner threw a hardcover book at you was one of those times. Other times, you are reminded of why you signed up for the job in the first place. You get that feeling of motivation to keep on.

Today has been the former.

You finally walk through the streets of Piltover post-shift, your body ready for sleep, but your mind elsewhere. You think about Vi in these mundane moments when there are no other thoughts to fill the void. The tall buildings surrounding you feel almost suffocating, and you find yourself subconsciously take a left turn, crossing the bridge that binds the two contrasting cities.

You've always thought about the differences between Zaun and Piltover. When you were younger and impressionable, you were constantly warned about the undercity as if it was the boogeyman or bloody mary. It was something out of sight, out of mind. You were never given any reason or initiative to experience the horrors of poverty.

Now, you see it surrounding you. You see children in the streets in town clothing, weary mothers and the occasional father trailing behind them. You hear the violence like a ringing in your ear. You hear catcalls, some of them even towards yourself. As you take in the undercity with wide eyes, you pick up your pace. The alleyways are often empty, but you wonder if anything could be lurking within them. It's too dark to see anything but what luminates the streets and buildings, not the hidden passages that seem to overwhelm you even more.

Suddenly, your body is yanked into one. You open your mouth to scream, but the sound is muffled as you feel a warm hand cover it. You can't see exactly who it is in the darkness, but the voice sends a familiar warmth throughout your body.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Vi asks you, obvious annoyance in her tone. Something like worry or another indescribable emotion is hidden underneath the attitude, though.

You pull her hand away from your mouth, gasping for breath. "You scared me, jesus!"

"That doesn't answer my question." She presses. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be down here? Especially with a target on your back."

"I've been wondering about you, okay? You haven't reached out, and I didn't even get to say goodbye!" You wrap your arms around her body in a tight, desperate hug. The embrace you expected her to return was met with a stiffness, but she didn't pull away.

"I didn't think you'd want me to." Her voice isn't as soft and sweet as you remember it to be. It makes you pull back.

"What? What do you mean?" When your questions are met with silence, you cup Vi's face. "What is going on? Did I do something wrong?"

Vi scoffs at that, but the bitterness in the expression isn't towards you. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's me."

"Vi, what do you mean? You didn't do anything." You try to search her face for answers. Your eyes trace over the sharpness in her jaw that seems to be even more carved from before, and you notice the emptiness in her cheekbones. You used to be worried for her in prison, and now you can't help but wonder why she isn't eating as much as she can now that she is free to do so.

"You don't understand what I mean. You really think we could ever work? You're a Piltie chick, and I'm just another piece of undercity trash. I'm not going to be anything more than that. You shouldn't be here with me." Vi tells you, voice wavering through she tries to say it all firmly. It's clear that the feelings that were there back in the library, the ones that turned into countless stolen kisses and promises of care are failing to be repressed.

You don't let her, though. You pull her in closer. She doesn't protest, even as you hate the tense feeling that settles deep within her due to her own insecurities. All you want is to wash away the rigid Vi, and replace her with the softness that you know still exists. The real Vi.

"Look at me." You softly say. Vi meets your eyes for the first time in a while. "I don't care about some stupid social dynamic. I just want you. I don't fucking care if I have to bring you back up to Piltover with me. I don't care if I have to stay down here with you! I just want to be with you. Don't leave my side again. Please, Vi." The desperation is there, and you don't try to hold back. You feel tears form in your eyes.

You don't get a verbal answer. You don't get much of any answer at first, as Vi stares back at you with wide eyes that remind you of just a few weeks ago, when everything seemed much more simple. Within the walls of the prison, things might've been difficult, but the feelings came easy. You just had to remind her of what it was like to feel them with you.

But the answer is exactly what you've been needing. Vi presses you against the alleyway and kisses you with all of her pent-up longing. Her lips are chapped, but it doesn't matter. She is real, and you feel her warmth travel to your body. Her tongue parts your lips in an act of desperation. She needs to make sure this isn't a dream. She needs to feel your tongue against hers and to know that you aren't just another drunken hallucination. The kisses lasts forever, and you feel each other everywhere. Her hands cups your face before trailing down your body and landing on your hips. Yours find the back of her neck and your fingers part through her hair, tugging at it when she presses against you in the right ways.

Eventually, Vi pulls away for air. She doesn't leave you in that alleyway, though. You feel her breath on your lips and her hands holding you close. Her embrace is tight and reassuring: she isn't letting you go this time. She isn't pushing you away, not after she has spent so long yearning to feel you again.

TAGLIST: @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz, @daughterofthemoons-stuff. want to be on my taglist? click here!

[tubattutu]

Heyyy!! I hope I'm not annoying youu. Could you do Soobin teaching his innocent virgin girlfriend how to give a blowjob?? This has been stuck in my headdd //By the wayyy I'm the same anon with school problems and I really f up in maths and hey I became a school prefect yayyyy!!!!

hii!! answering this a little late but don’t worry i do too maths is my biggest enemy 😭

cw: virginfem!reader, blowjob, praise kink, cum eating, established relationship

you always found the fact that you were a virgin and not your boyfriend embarrassing. you both hadn't even done anything before, until now.

tonight, your loving boyfriend had invited you to come over to his apartment since he'd be lonely. obviously with no doubt you accepted the invite, got your things ready and drove over to his apartment building.

a while after you got there, you both honestly just cuddled in his bed and watched movies while you munched on your favourite snacks and chocolates.

the movie you two were watching was this rom-com you randomly decided to put on since it felt like there were barely any good movies or shows on netflix anymore. though it seemed quite corny and stupid, the more intimate parts of the movie seemed to get you both into the mood.

it was like one minute you both were fully immersed into the movie in eachothers arms snacking, and then the next you two were making out.

you both had always went no farther then just making out. i mean, he did grope your tits and stuff like that, but nothing further out of your comfort zone. tonight though, you felt a little bored of it.

you pulled away in the middle of the kiss, and almost out of breath you spoke;

"can we... try something a little different tonight?"

"like what baby?" soobins eyebrows furrow in confusion, though he was intrigued. but he wasn't expecting your next words,,,

"i want to go down on you."

it honestly surprised him to say the least. it wasn't that he wasn't down for it, he just always thought you never were into that. maybe it was out of your comfort zone?

"i- yeah, of course.." he stammers a bit, his cheeks flushed a soft, pale pink.

"but i don't know how to... give you a blowjob.." you mumbled out sheepishly, a very clear embarrassed look on your face. he thought your words and cute, embarrassed face were adorable.

"i can teach you..." at his offer, you felt like your cheeks turned as red as a tomato.

“please do..” he chuckled at your eager request and kissed your lips again, squeezing your hip.

“well, if you want to suck me off you gotta take my pants off huh?” he grinned at your flustered face.

you blush more if even possible, before your hands reach over to slide down his sweatpants and boxers. your eyes light up at the sight of his already hard cock popping out from his boxers.

you shift and move so you were between his legs on the bed, your hand slowly and hesitatingly starting to stroke his length.

at that he let out a soft moan, his head falling back against the plush pillow. “fuck..”

your lips curl into a small smile at his noises of approval. you were nervous what to do next, and it was clear to him.

“are you sure youre ready to do this baby?” he asks, needing reassurance as to him it looked like you weren’t sure of all of this. but you knew you we’re definitely ready.

all you did was nod, and then you lowered your head down, giving small kitten licks to his tip. he gasps quietly and bucks his hips up on instinct, biting his bottom lip at the sensation.

“fuck baby..” he groaned, hissing as you, without hesitation, took him inside your mouth, letting your warm and wet tongue and mouth engulf around his dick.

“oh fuck- just like that baby..” he moaned prettily, his hand resting on the back of your head as he helped guide your head up and down his dick.

you felt yourself becoming wet in your panties at his moans and praises, bobbing your head up and down with your eyes closed, your tongue swirling around his cock.

“doing such a good job for me baby..” he praises once more, his breath heavy and his legs subtly twitching at the sensations.

you lower your head again just slightly, taking him deeper in your wet mouth, moaning around his dick as you felt his tip brush against the back of your throat. he moaned a bit louder at that, head falling back again. it felt as if he almost came right then and there.

you pull away to breathe, panting softly before running your tongue up along his cock, looking up at him with doe eyes. seeing you like that to him made him want to take you right at that moment.

his breath hitches once you take him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down softly and moaning against him again. the sensation left him speechless everytime.

“f-fuck.. im gonna cum.. dont stop..” he breathed out, moaning in bliss as his chest rises up and down at a quick pace.

you pull away, stroking his cock quickly and swirling your tongue around his tip, until he finally reaches his orgasm, his cum spurting up onto your face and into your mouth.

[lokisprettygirl]

Come As You Are (Eric Draven! Bill Skarsgard's Version x Female Reader) (18+) (Slight Au)

Read Chapter 11 here //Series Masterlist

Chapter 12

Summary : Eric realises that Mortality is a blessing and a curse, same as immortality. Melody's fiance turns up.

Warning: 18+, smut, dirty sexual thoughts,, Description of self harm, dry humping, drug use, Eric is a past drug addict with suicidal tendencies, self harm, use of cuss words, description of claustrophobia, reader is in her early thirties, mention of sexual assault, death and murder, Consumption of alcohol and weed, periods

“Okay i made the plate, can you go give it to her?” You said to him as you served the lunch on three plates, Chicken Alfredo because Eric loved it so much the last time you had made it for him, you accompanied it with a side of veggies that you wanted for yourself. When he didn't respond you looked behind,

“Eric?” he snapped out of his thoughts as he walked towards you.

He was slightly distracted at the moment. He saw it, it was red, his blood had turned red. He had been accustomed to seeing his blood in the dark shade of charcoal so no he didn't imagine it in his head.

However he knew he had to make sure of it before he got his hopes high, cutting himself again in front of you was a big no so he knew he had to wait for now.

Eric grabbed the plate you had made for Melody and turned around but you grabbed his arm so he looked at you.

“Hey” you said to him, he was staring at you in that adorable fashion with his brows crinkling.“You're so cute” you complimented him so he chuckled before he shook his head, his pale cheeks flushed in pink even though he acted as if the compliment didn't affect him at all.

Everything you said to him, did for him, did to him, it affected him in ways he couldn't even begin to describe.

Last night you told him that you'd just leave if he wanted to go back to his ex, you just wanted him to be happy even if it wasn't with you, even if it hurt you immensely, that was a selfless thought on your part, maybe that's what triggered the remission?.

God you really loved him didn't you? It wasn't how Melody loved him where her actions at the end didn't match her words, you really did love the heck out of him.

As he entered his apartment, Melody was in his bedroom lounging on his bed, wearing his clothes because she didn't bring any luggage with herself, she had left it at the hotel she had been staying at.

He put the plate down on the dresser so she looked at the food and then turned to her phone.

“I'm ordering something healthy, gotta watch my weight” she said, her voice nonchalant so he shrugged.

“It's just chicken, veggies and some pasta.. nothing unhealthy about it” he said to her so she looked at him and rolled her eyes.

“No.. my stomach is still sensitive from the food last night so no thankyou..I'll manage”

She said to him, making his jaw clench in response. Just the thought of someone disrespecting the food you made so blatantly boiled his blood, especially when he knew how much you loved cooking and how good you were at it, besides you didn't really have to feed her but you did, that's just the kind of person you were, you fed him often even though he was an asshole in the beginning of your friendship with him.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him, six years ago he'd have fought the universe for the woman in front of him, now he wanted to snap at her because she was being mean to you for no reason.

“I'll tell her to not bother anymore then” he said as he grabbed the plate and turned around to storm out before he'd hear another word out of her ungrateful mouth.

As he entered your apartment you were on the couch waiting for him, you had dimmed the lights and put on some candles.

“Let's have a date” you said to him so he walked towards the couch and put her plate down before he kissed you softly. “What happened?” you questioned as you looked at the full plate he brought back with him.

“She's not hungry” he lied, though you could tell that wasn't the truth, the thing was you didn't really care.

“Well more for us then” you said softly so he smiled before he looked at the candles.

“I'm supposed to be taking you out on dates sweetheart”

“Who says that?” you asked

“It's a gentleman thing to do, though I'm not sure if I even fall into that category” You leaned forward to kiss him as he said that .

“You're the most gentle man i have ever known” he chuckled as you said that.

Well you wouldn't be saying that if you saw him killing people so mercilessly when he had to..

“And you're the most delusional woman I have ever been in love with..so pretty but so delusional” his voice lowered down a pitch as he said that, making you feel all warm and tingly.

“Shutup and eat”

After lunch, you had to kill the time somehow so you put on a movie, it was something you really enjoyed doing with him. However in the middle of the movie as he began to run his fingers over your bare thighs mindlessly you got turned on immediately, you didn't think he was doing it on purpose as he was engrossed in the plot unfolding in front of him. As he caught you staring he turned his head to give you a smile before he kissed your forehead first and then your cheek.

“Do you not like this movie?” He asked you so you smiled.

“It's fine..you're just prettier to look at” you said as you straddled him and cupped his cheeks to kiss him so he moaned into your mouth, the sound was like gasoline to the fire already burning into your core.

You couldn't help but grind your hips over his crotch, his fingers curled around your throat as he let out a strangled moan. But then you both heard it, the sound of the elevator whirring and he immediately put you down on the couch to go check who it was.

You sighed deeply as you tried to calm down from the intense moment of ecstasy you were experiencing.

It was just some doordash delivery guy, she had ordered food for herself but you didn't blame him for being on guard all the time. There was a threat looming over his head and he didn't want to fail again.

Once he returned you pulled him to the bedroom and cuddled him but it turned into a nap for you, he was waiting for this exact moment so as you fell asleep Eric waited for you to fall deeper into your slumber before he got himself out of your tangled body as sneakily as he could.

He reached for his jacket he had left on the chair and pulled out the razor blade from the hidden pocket before he went inside the bathroom and locked the door.

“Okay..” he mumbled to himself, squeezing his eyes shut before he ran the tip of the blade over his forearm, wincing as he sliced the layers of his skin, blood dripping into the sink.

“Please be red.. please” he mumbled as he opened his eyes finally.

A smile graced his features as he looked at the red liquid covering the white porcelain sink. He leaned forward and placed his palms at the edge of the sink before he looked up, thanking the gods or whosoever was responsible for it. Apart from you of course.

Immortality was a curse, he didn't want to live forever, he didn't want to watch you grow old in front of him and then die.

He didn't want to be left all alone.

However the momentarily happiness he had experienced faded as he noticed he wasn't healing as fast as he usually did.

“Fuckkk..fuck fuck fuck nooo”

Okay maybe mortality has its flaws too..

He turned the tap on to clean the mess he had made before he opened the mirror cabinet to find a gauge or something that he could use to press on the wound. He just hoped it would be healed before you're up, he wasn't ready to share this with you yet, mostly because he wasn't quite ready to accept it himself.

Once his soul is bonded with him completely he'd lose his powers right? He'd become alive and human, he'd experience pain and fragility, he'd become vincible again.

How would he protect you if he was weak in front of death again?

He stood there over the sink for minutes and the wound finally healed after what felt like hours even though it's barely been a few minutes, so he still healed faster than normal people but he knew he was losing his special abilities slowly.

After cleaning the mess he went back to the bedroom and stared at your sleepy form.

Damn you.

You were so precious to him, you loved him so much he was beginning to unite with his soul but how was he supposed to keep you safe when he didn't have those powers that made him the threat he was to his enemies? He was nothing without them, he'd go back to being that scared boy that couldn't save his beloved horse or his mum or Chance or Melody.

You turned around as you felt the emptiness and glanced at him with your heavy lids so he smiled before he climbed into the bed with you.

“Do you always watch me sleep?” you asked him softly.

“Guilty ..you can't blame me for that”

You smiled as he said that but you were soaking wet right now and you didn't want him to know that. You had the sexiest sex dream about him just now, right in this bed, he was pounding into you from behind, his one hand keeping your head pressed into the mattress while the other one stayed on your hips.

You were going to kiss him but then you heard the faint sound of elevator thrumming, the closer it came to the eleventh floor the louder was the sound so he immediately got off the bed, after groaning and cursing to yourself you followed behind him

He opened your apartment door and peaked his head out only to see a man walking the narrow hallways seemingly confused. He had a pink luggage behind him in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

As you joined Eric at the door and saw the man you literally gasped.

“Hey excuse me..can you tell me where Melody Banks is?” He asked you as you seemed approachable because Eric was just glaring at him.

“Yeah ..just knock on that door..shes in there”

You said to him so he gave you a smile before he nodded.

“Thanks …you must be y/n?” He asked you.

“Wow you know my name I see” you giggled awkwardly so Eric crossed his arms and glared at you in confusion.

“Yeah she told me and you must be Eric..helllo ...I'm Bill” he said as he brought his hand forward but Eric just nodded in his usual stoic manner and made no attempt to shake his hand whatsoever.

Bill smiled nervously and just turned around to go knock on the front door.

As Melody opened up she hugged him but her eyes were on Eric. What the fuck?

As they got in you both did the same.

“What the fuck was that?” He said as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Please tell me you recognised him..he was in that horror movie we watched recently..The Airbnb one..that's Bill Olsson"

Of course you googled him the moment you saw Melody fighting with him on the phone. You were nosy like that.

“I don't give a fuck who he is..she can't just invite random men to my apartment like that.. especially when there's a killer looking for us” he said to you so you hummed.

“Well..It's not..really random though..it's her fiancé” You said to him as you crossed your arms and he got quiet for a moment. He was pissed off you could tell, for what reasons you weren't really sure of yet. He let out a chuckle before his expression turned serious again.

“So I uhhh…I have a few questions for you. Okay? Why are you defending her is one of them and why the fuck are you so excited to see some movie star?” With every word he said he stepped closer to you so you uncrossed your arms and stepped back.

“Ahhh first of all I'm not defending her..I'm just stating random information and I'm not excited at all..it's just weird seeing him in flesh”

“It's weird? That's all? Because I remember you giggling out there and you don't usually giggle do you?” He said as he stepped even closer until you were trapped between him and the door.

“Ummm..are you jealous of him?” you said it, voice so quiet as if you didn't really want him to hear it.

“Jealous of that tall lanky man with no personality..sure I am” he snickered even though he was clearly jealous.

“You know if you haven't noticed he kind of looks like you..maybe you should reconsider your words..that has to mean something right? I mean your ex got herself engaged to someone that looks like her ex-” he interjected mid sentence as you began to ramble. Did you really think he was pissed off about it because of her? He didn't give a shit anymore who she fucked or who she married.

“It's not about her..I asked you a question. Why were you giggling like that in front of him huh? Did he make your heartbeat faster? Maybe made your shy virgin cunt a little wet with his famous aura?”

He brought his hand between your legs so you swatted it away, you were definitely wet but not because of him.

“God i forgot what an asshole you used to be before” you tried to get out of his grip but he placed his hand on your waist to keep you in place.

“I'm being an asshole? How would you feel if I was the one fangirling over some famous chick?” he asked a valid question and of course you'd burn with envy if that was the case.

“I'd worry about your sanity .. more than I usually do–But do you want a real talk here? Lets talk ..let's discuss why you won't fuck me okay?”

He snickered again as you said that, how did it always come to this?

“Because you're a thirty two year old Virgin..you have waited for this all your life, sue me for trying to be a gentleman for once in my life, trying to make it special for the woman I love” you gulped as he said that but you were aroused and sexually frustrated.

“I don't think it's that..I think you just want me to get more desperate for it until I'm begging on my knees for you to fuck me with that gorgeous cock of yours” you raised your voice a little so he grabbed your chin..

“Is that a kink? You want to beg baby? Want to be all submissive and shit huh? You clearly don't respect my gentlemanly behaviour..what do you want hmm? Want me all sleazy and disgusting with you? Trust me I can manage that too” he said to you, his teeth gritting with every word he spoke.

“Yeah I dare you..go ahead”

He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you closer, his lips clashed with yours as he kissed you roughly, he then picked you up and took you to the bedroom, he almost threw you down on the bed, his usual tender demeanor replaced with harsh touches.

It was jealousy, anger and insecurity all combined in this deadly concoction. He never felt good enough for you and now he was slowly going to lose the one thing that set him apart from the others because you decided to love him for real.

You sat up on the bed but he lowered you down as he placed one of his hands on your shoulder, taking his shirt off in one fluid motion with his other

“Eric-” you mumbled softly so he glared at you.

“What? I'm giving you what you want..are you still going to complain or are you going to be a good girl and take it like the whore you want to be for me?”

Okay that shouldn't have made you as wet as it did..

You really wanted this anger in him to take over and get over with it, you knew it would hurt the first time so you just wanted to rip off the bandaid but then you looked him in the eyes and he seemed…sad?

Why was he sad? Were you making him feel that way?

As his fingers tangled around the waistband of your shorts you grabbed his fingers.

“Eric, stop.. please”

You said to him as you got on your elbows so he stopped immediately and placed his palms over his face to calm down. You got up and grabbed his hands to push it away from his face,

“What is it baby..what's wrong?” You asked him but he kept looking down so you cupped his cheeks and made him look at you. His beautiful eyes were now moist with tears.

“Nothing..i just.. don't want to lose you too” his voice cracked as he spoke.

“Lose me? Baby..I love you, you know that right?”

“Trust me I know that now” he said “It's not that. It's not you..it's always me, I'm not enough, i could never be”

“Not enough? That's crazy talk..I'm sorry I didn't mean what I said, I do appreciate your gentle behaviour with me, trust me I have longed for this from those stupid immature boys I dated before.. and you give that respect to me without asking, you don't treat me like I'm just my body and sex, you are so good to me Eric, baby..you're so good to me.. I feel so beautiful around you when you look at me with those big pretty eyes of yours” you pecked on his lips before you wiped the tears that wetted his cheeks.

“I get frustrated at times..I just desire you so much and I'm a woman, we are cursed with hormones..I want to be yours completely in every possible way, I get wet just by seeing you do the most random things..its unreal how much you turn me on” he couldn't help but smile as you said that.

“I don't have to fuck you for you to be mine.. you're all mine” he said as he caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers.

“I know..I'm sorry”

“I'm sorry too..i shouldn't speak to you like that” he said as he cupped your cheeks and kissed you as he lowered you down on the bed underneath him.

“It's okay..it was hot..”

“Ssshhhh don't say that baby..dont let me disrespect you”

“It's not disrespect if I like it..maybe I'm a freak”

“Mmmhm?” He pulled up your t-shirt over your head, freeing your breasts from the confinement, his mouth immediately latched onto your nipples.

“Do you really want this?” He asked as he kissed down slowly so you scratched his scalp.

“I do..but I want you to take me at your pace..i have had men trying to push me into this and I remember feeling so awful about it, I'd never want you to feel that way” you said to him so he stopped and crawled up to kiss you.

“I just want it to be special, want you to remember it all your life..have a sweet memory attached to it, the one you'd often look back at with a smile”

God you loved him.

Did he really think you'd just forget your first time with him? That was impossible.

********""

“Fuck…I missed you babe” Bill groaned as he collapsed next to her. Melody gave him a small smile

“Me too” she said but her words lacked the same heat he had in his own.

“Are you going to tell me what's going on? Why are you living in this .. uhhh…place?” He asked as he got on his elbow to caress her face gently.

“It's a long story”

“I have time..got myself out of that Nolan's project for the same” he said to her softly.

What's with the men doing her favours and shoving it in her face even though she never asked for it?

“Why would you do that Bill?” She asked as she sat up and stared at him in disbelief.

“We had that nasty fight..i love you, I don't want to ruin us like this..where is the ring by the way?” He asked as looked at her bare fingers.

“I took it off to shower..it's right here” she said as she opened the bedside drawer and put it on so he smiled and kissed her before he hugged her.

In past six years since she left Eric and slowly became more and more popular she dated so many men, she fucked them all too just to get rid of the void Eric had left in her life but none of those men could compare, they didn't look at her or touched her the way he did, Eric had a way of treating her that was so different from the others, she could never replicate what she had with him until she met Bill, another gentle giant with a soft heart, they had the same eyes and nose, if she squinted her eyes enough she could almost see Eric in him.

But he wasn't Eric was he? He had no trauma, no depth, he wasn't beautifully broken. He was just Bill and she had come to realise that, she didn't love him because she was still in love with the man who had given up his soul for her.

🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂

Note : Anyone else feeling bad for sweet Bill or is it just me?

Taglist: @m-riaa @erebus-et-eigengrau @peachychyy @enchantresss97 @fandomxo @mariaenchanted

[flightyalrighty]

Flighty I'm sorry to say but you've picked the worst social to post a nuanced and openly violent comic. Tumblr users do not understand horror or themes or anything beyond what's been shown to them on the page. Reading comprehension is at an all time low and all the low gathers here to complain that something bad or nuanced happened in a story and then demand that the artist and writer personally explain or change aspects of the story for their sake or because it " makes them feel bad "

Also should take the time to remind everyone that not everything is cattered directly to you abd that's not a bad thing or a moral failing on the writers part. Good lord.

I'm sure that not everyone on this website is Like That. Tumblr's made up of a LOT of people after all! Trust me when I say, in my experience, of the four platforms I've posted this comic on (Tumblr, Comicfury, Twitter [though not anymore] & Bluesky), Tumblr folks have actually been the MOST thoughtful (and patient) out of all of them.

Now, that said, yeah, on occasion I've gotten a few stinkers in my inbox. That's okay. The fellas that have made me smile on here have far outweighed the entitled weirdos.

I trust that, despite this comic not being for everyone, and how a few loud people are gonna get mad about it, overall Infested will be enjoyed plenty. I'm just happy this comic got any readers at all. I used to get no readers whatsoever. THAT was the true hell of being a comic creator on Tumblr.

[campingwiththecharmings]

Good Neighbors (7)

PART 6

AN: Hello lovely people. I'm so unbelievably sorry that this took OVER A YEAR to get out. Ugh. I'm so annoyed with myself. If you're still here, thank you so much for sticking with me, I know I've been pretty MIA recently. That being said, without further ado, here is the seventh smutlet in a series set after the events of Night Moves. I hope it's worth the wait lol.

Why should you care if Santi had someone over? What’s it matter that it was (apparently) an attractive woman? It doesn’t, it shouldn’t. You and Santi are just friends. Sure, you get naked together sometimes but there’s nothing else there, he doesn’t owe you anything, he’s not yours— And you’re not his.

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 2,077 (can i still call them 'smutlets' if they're the length of a normal fic lmao) Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x F!Reader Warnings: pwp, kissing, ~*feelings*~ (ugh), a dash of angst, jealousy, neighbors with benefits AO3

——————

You can’t sleep, and much like all those months ago, it’s your stupid neighbor’s fault.

Your stupidly gorgeous, funny, sweet, wonderful neighbor, Santiago Garcia.

Sadly, the issue this time is not him playing his music too loud in the middle of the night. No. Instead the issue is something that shouldn’t even be an issue.

Ugh. How did you even get here?

Right. 3A. Yeah, this was all that bitch’s fault. If she’d just kept what she’d seen to herself, you’d be sleeping like a baby right now. But no, she’d had to go and open her big, fat mouth.

Why should you careif Santi had someone over? What’s it matter that it was (apparently) an attractive woman? It doesn’t, it shouldn’t. You and Santi are just friends. Sure, you get naked together sometimes but there’s nothing else there, he doesn’t owe you anything, he’s not yours—

And you’re not his.

A weight settles on your chest at the thought and you sigh. You turn on your side, looking at the clock on your bedside table; the glaring, red numbers feel like they’re burning a hole into your retinas. 

Almost 3 a.m. Just like the night you first met.

The longer you think about it, the worse you feel—was he fucking her too? Are you just one in a long line of women he has at his beck and call? Did you even mean anything to him or were you just the most convenient? 

Stop it, you tell yourself, you have no right to be jealous. Enough.

You scoff after a moment, shaking your head at your own thoughts. Jealous? Please, you weren’t jealous. That’d be stupid, right? Completely and utterly ridiculous.

You will yourself to sleep, closing your eyes and trying every technique you know to try and clear your mind.

After ten minutes, you throw your covers off with a frustrated groan and sit up, legs hanging off the side of your bed.

If there’s any hope of you getting any sleep tonight, you have to talk to him.

You shuffle quickly through your living room, out the front door, and into the hall. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you knock on his door, the sound echoing loudly down the empty hall. For a moment, you pray that he doesn’t answer, that he’s already fast asleep but you’re realistic enough to know that’s probably not what’s going to happen. You hear the drag and click of the door being unlocked and you tense slightly as it slowly swings inward.

Santiago squints out into the hall, a soft smile spreading on his lips when he sees it’s you. 

“Evening, hermosa,” he rasps, running a hand over his face. “Or, I guess I should say morning.”

“I can’t sleep,” you blurt, wincing slightly as you briefly avert your gaze. “Can we talk?”

You watch as his face shifts, his brow furrowing, head cocked slightly to the left as the smile melts away. He nods, stepping back to give you enough room to come in.

Your eyes sweep the room as you step over the threshold, searching for someone you know isn’t there (not anymore, anyway). He wouldn’t have let you in if she was.

“Everything okay?” he asks, gently touching your shoulder.

You don’t answer him right away, unsure how to even broach this topic. Santi doesn’t owe you anything, not even an explanation, really. He’s never made you any promises, never said you were the only one he was messing around with…never said he loves you.

Something sharp lodges in your chest at the thought and you close your eyes, breathing slowly in an effort to quell the panic rising in your throat.

He says your name, his voice soft, and the sharpness in your chest turns to an ache, an ache you’ve become all too familiar with recently. You push the feeling away, trying to focus on why you’d come here. 

The other woman. Right.

With a steadying breath, you turn to him, crossing your arms over your chest protectively.

“I heard you had a visitor today,” you say nonchalantly, as if this is a completely normal conversation to be having in the middle of the night.

His brow furrows again, this time in confusion. “A visitor?”

You nod in response, your jaw tight. For a moment he just stares at you, waiting for you to elaborate, but then his eyes light in realization. 

“Are you talking about Ana?”

You avert your gaze to the floor, the sharpness in your chest returning. Then a warm, low chuckle reaches your ears, the sound making your insides melt. God, do you love his laugh.

He steps closer, his fingers brushing against the underside of your chin, trying to return your eyes to his; the gentleness of his touch makes your chest ache.

“She’s just a friend, hermosa,” he explains, his voice low and soft.

Unfortunately, his words do nothing to alleviate your concerns.

“‘Just a friend’ like me?” you ask, your voice breaking despite the control you’re fighting so hard to maintain over yourself.

His eyes soften and a piece of you crumbles inside. You watch as his jaw clenches, his hands moving to cup your cheeks, holding you in place so you can’t look away from him again.

“No,” he whispers, shaking his head slightly, “Not like you.”

He holds your gaze, his eyes burning with an intensity you’ve never seen before. It makes your heart skip, your lips parting slightly at the insinuation. You want to believe it, want to believe that this thing between you is more than just sex, more even than friendship. You want to believe it, so you do…if only for tonight.

He must see whatever he’s searching for in your eyes because suddenly he’s kissing you, his lips gentle but sure as he pours everything he is and feels into it, into you. It’s different from the other times somehow, more intense, more serious, as though he’s trying to prove something. You cling to him, fingers twisting in his shirt as he slips his tongue between your lips. He steps closer, his left hand sliding down your neck and torso to settle on your hip. You sigh at the press of his body against yours, warm and solid, familiar. 

Without breaking the kiss, Santi guides you backwards, slowly steering you both in the direction of his couch. You pause when the backs of your knees touch the soft, cool leather, letting yourself get lost in the feel of him again. You slide your hands down his chest, slipping them beneath the hem of his shirt to his warm, soft skin. The coolness of your fingers makes him jump a little in surprise and you can’t help the smile that spreads on your lips. He smiles back, you can feel it as he kisses you, as he angles your head and licks into your mouth again, and it makes that now ever-present ache in your chest throb. 

When you finally part, it’s for air, your foreheads pressed together as you pant, trying to catch your breaths. He’s too far, you think. You want—no you need—to have him closer, need to feel his skin against yours, need his lips, his eyes, his hands, his everything. You need him. 

Your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt before slowly pushing it up his torso and then pulling it over his head. Santi’s eyes are glued to you, like he’s afraid to look away, afraid you’ll disappear if he does. You lean in, pressing a kiss against the hollow of his throat. Santi inhales shakily as you explore, slowly kissing a line down to his chest. He hisses when you flick your tongue over his nipples, his fingers clenching at your hip.

You wish you could live here, in this moment, this moment where there’s nothing else but you and him together. 

After a moment, he pulls you back, pulls your mouth back to his, humming contentedly when you reconnect, as if you’ve been parted for years instead of just a few seconds. Santiago’s hands slip beneath the waistband of your pajama bottoms and panties, the warm, rough pads of his fingers scratching delightfully against your skin. Slowly, he pushes them down, dragging the fabric over your ass and hips before letting them fall at your feet. Unimpeded by your clothing, he cups your backside, gently kneading your cheeks with his strong fingers as he pulls your body against his.

Slowly, you undress each other, hands lingering, reverently caressing every inch of skin revealed. Once you’re bared to each other, Santi lays you down against the cushions of his couch. The cool leather makes you shiver, goosebumps breaking out and spreading over your body. He watches you for a moment, his eyes somewhat unreadable in the darkness of the room. You can feel his gaze on you, as he drags it slowly down your body, as if committing every bit of you to memory. Before you can say anything, he leans in, reclaiming your mouth as he situates his body over yours. 

He’s so warm, the weight of him comforting, familiar, as he settles between your legs. You moan softly as his hard cock brushes against your core, the sound muffled by his mouth on yours. He groans, slowly grinding against you, each brush of him sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. It feels like you’re on fire, like you’re about to burn up from the inside out. You need him, need him to fill you, to consume you. He seems to sense your need, shifting so the head of his cock is pressed against your entrance.

He breaks your kiss as he sinks inside you, his swollen lips parting in a silent groan as your body welcomes him home. For a moment, he doesn’t move, content just to bask in the warmth of you. He finds your lips again, his kiss languid and deep, as if he can’t get enough of you, as if he wants to swallow you whole. When he finally starts to move, it’s slow, his thrusts shallow but no less pleasurable. He keeps kissing you, stealing your breath, his hands are everywhere, touching, caressing, stoking the fire inside you. The moment feels endless, a blur of hands and lips and breathy moans. 

There’s something different about this time, something different in the air, in the energy between you both. Perhaps it's the pace, your usual frantic neediness traded for something so unhurried, yet still so passionate. It feels unreal, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. It feels like love, though, you know it isn’t. 

It’s easy to forget, though, consumed by him as you are. He’s everything, he’s everywhere, all you can see, all you can feel, hear, smell, taste—

You shake as the tension twists in your gut, breathy moans escaping you with every push of his hips. He’s no better, jaw slack, eyes blown wide and dark, looking almost drunk as he so easily unravels you bit by bit. You’re so close, feeling as though you’ve been on the precipice for ages, ready to tumble over with the slightest nudge. He keeps you there, the steady push and pull of his hips drawing out your pleasure. Briefly you wonder if it’s possible to die from this, because you feel like you might. There are worse ways to go, you suppose.

Something in his eyes shifts as he moves over you, as if he’s made some important decision. He leans in, claiming your mouth once more, his kiss deep and filled with so much longing it takes your breath away. He finds your hands, splayed limply beside you on the couch, his fingers lacing with yours. He’s done it before, but somehow now it feels different, like it means more. You tell yourself you’re reading too much into it, into everything—he doesn’t feel the way you want him to, he doesn’t love you.

Your hands are still clasped when you come, his fingers gripping yours like a vice. He presses his forehead to yours as the euphoria washes over you like a tidal wave, the warmth of his breath gliding pleasantly over your skin. Then he kisses you, so gentle and sweet it makes your heart ache in your chest.

You know it’s not love, but maybe, just this once, it’s okay to pretend.

So you do.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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PART 8 (coming soon)

[puppysuke]

hi hi hi hi hi hi hello howdy <333 I never send in asks (or interact with anyone on Tumblr for that matter) but I just AAAHHH I love your headcanons!! I think Daisuke x reader headcanons pre-relationship would be so cute... Like the confession and the mutual pining and everything omg. You don't have to do it at all, if you did that would be fantastic but no worries, um okay bye 😍😍

eats a brick and leaves on a fly ride adopt me unicorn

i am honored that you asked me for this! hopefully you like this a lot. i'll just do hc since thats what you asked, BUT if you want to req a oneshot based on this, i would love that tons and tons. i'd be happy to write that! also don't eat bricks, ok, not good for you silly. all sfw! can be read after the events of mouthwashing or a different au! if you'd like something like this in mouthwashing au, like in the tulpar and stuff, i'll write that too :3 but i guess this can be read like that too for the most part. thank you, anon, let me get you a nice muffin or something you'd like. continue reading under the cut! art by ImaHealthHazard on pinterest!

🌺 --- daisuke didn't exactly expect to fall in love with you. he really just thought you were a really good friend! 🌺 --- that was until you brought him a brownie that you had gotten from the store, knowing he had a huge sweet tooth. 🌺 --- when you gave him the brownie, he KNEW he was in love. he had tried to deny it to himself, but he couldn't anymore. 🌺 --- he didn't realize that you felt the same way for him. he thought you were just trying to be a good friend.

🌺 ---he felt like a TOTAL creep for liking you. he caught himself staring at you or daydreaming about you.

🌺 --- you were super obvious about liking him too, he just didn't realize that.

🌺 --- like the time you told him you wish you had a boyfriend like him? yeah, he thought he was just deluding himself into thinking you meant anything by it.

🌺 --- he tried to not be obvious about his feelings. he felt very guilty about it! so i tried to hide it. but he wasn't very good at it.

🌺 --- mutual friends of yours said things like "just date already!" and "so when are you guys getting together?"

🌺 --- and daisuke would panic and be like "ew why would i wanna date them???"

🌺 --- it hurt you a bit, but you didn't show it! you just went along with it.

🌺 --- you guys both were talking to your mutual friends about liking each other, so they all knew about it!

🌺 --- everyone knew but you and daisuke. even his mom had called you his girlfriend a few times...

🌺 --- you guys pined over each other for MONTHS. you fell first, but he fell WAY harder.

🌺 --- finally, the guilt got to daisuke and he decided to confess. he mainly just expected you to reject him and he figured that'd help him move on.

🌺 --- he came to you a sobbing mess after having a drink or two. he had walked to your house at 2 in the morning.

🌺 --- you let him in and sat with him, trying to comfort him, but he refused to tell you what was wrong for a good while.

🌺 --- after he finally got a hold on himself and stopped crying, he got a few words out.

🌺 --- "i need to tell you that i-" daisuke sniffled and there he went crying again.

🌺 --- you frowned and coaxed the answer out of him. "i like you! so much and i feel so bad, i'm so sorry!"

🌺 --- you just stared at him for a minute and let out a little laughed, ruffling his hair. he stared at you with big eyes and his bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

🌺 --- you very quickly told him you liked him too. he then proceeded to go on and on about how he meant he was in love with you kinda like.

🌺 --- you had to assure him you understood and felt the same. he kinda felt stupid after that.

🌺 --- "oh." daisuke wiped his tears and cleared his throat. "well! this is embarrasing."

🌺 --- needless to say, you got together not to long after that.

🌺 --- your friend group was very relieved they didn't have to listen to you two go on and on to them about eachother.

🌺 ---till they realized they needed to see you two being way too lovey dovey infront of them.

🌺 --- "wait, daisuke came to you crying?" swansea asked, sure to tease him about that for a while.

🌺 --- daisuke would brush it off and claim it made him more 'desirable' and protest he was just in tune with him feminine side!

🌺 --- also i just wanted to add this man makes you playlists 24/7. like you don't even get a chance to listen to your music because he is constantly making you playlists, it's his love language. so naturally your taste in music morphs into his.

i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this and have anything you'd like me to write from this fandom, or any other fandoms listen in my intro post, my requests are open! just ask me in my inbox and i'll write / make hc for you <3 thank you for reading!

[zepskies]

Loll sorrrrryyyy, but you know me -- I love a good cliffhanger. 😘

You were throwing hints at us here, but I still have questions that hopefully will be answered. Now I'm wondering how Michael was before the war. It's traumatizing and on the brink of death you grab at every straw. I do believe that he really loves her, but maybe it morphed into something else. Him being dependent on her? Or he realized that the man he actually is does not fit to her... I NEED ANSWERS!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Oh yeah, you'll get more nuggets about Michael and who he truly is in Part 5, and many of your instincts are right on the money of how I see him. 😅 But in some ways I'm letting you readers interpret for yourselves how you see Michael and his actions, judging, for example, if you think he deserves sympathy or not.

He did NOT!!! 😲😲😲 Oh Dean... that was not nice. You're already drawn to eachother. Inextricably linked. Don't sabotage yourself from something real. ☝🏻

He's doing a whole lot of denial isn't he? 😭 Basically it's Dean's trademark "I'm no good for you" coming in to rear its ugly head.

See? It hit right home. She already thinks she's not worth it anymore and you just confirmed that. 😔 This is pure miscommunication. But I'm glad that nothing happened to Sam and that he got the evidence they needed. She'll be free in a couple of months. 👍🏻

Big YEPP. But at least Dean reels it back, apologizes, and tries to comfort her. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Sam's doing some top-notch lawyering! It's gonna take some time, but he's committed to helping her be free of Michael.

Eventhough you got me a little worried about your 'next time' teaser... 😑 I can't wait to read the next chapter! 💜💜

lolll Can't wait to bring you guys Part 5 next week!! 💖 All will be revealed...

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

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Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

Read Part 5 on Patreon! || Coming to Tumblr on 3/07

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[veltana]

Cate's Creation Celebration

Hello and welcome to my first ever writing event! 🫣😅😨😵

My birthday happens to fall the day before Walpurgis Night. Where I'm from we celebrate with friends, watching bonfires, listening to choirs and getting absolutely shitfaced. So we're going to combine that with the myth and folklore of Walpurgis Night and have ourselves a creation celebration! Are you going to confess to your best friend by the flames of the fire, or are you going to get snared by a dark warlock?

There are two parts of this! A writing event and submitting a writing request. For both you need to be +18 to participate. There needs to be some indication of your age in the bio of your blog.

If you want to submit a writing request, you can find the form here. Your askbox needs to be open to be able to participate. Read the rules in the form before submitting.

If you want to participate in the writing event please see the details below!

General details

The writing event is open to the end of May (but I'll accept late entries)

All entries will be put into an event masterlist.

Rules

I read for Sebastian Stan, Chris Evans and sometimes Henry Cavill characters. I'm open to reading other fandoms but no RPF.

Only reader-insert fics. Please use inclusive language and tag accordingly so everyone can have fun!

You don't have to claim a prompt but please keep to the theme of the event.

10k maximum word limit. Please put your fic under a cut after a reasonable amount of words!

Your fic can be part of a series but must be able to be read as a standalone piece.

No fucking AI fics.

No incest, grooming, underage, watersports/scat, vomit, necrophilia, cannibalism, bestiality or similar types of yucky stuff.

Otherwise works can be any genre (fluff, smut, angst ect), just make sure to include appropriate warnings. I do reserve the right to not read and/or reblog something that makes me uncomfortable. I'm not much for really dark fics or whump.

If you only post to AO3 then please send me a link or something so I don't miss it!

Tag @veltana when you post your fic and include #catescreationcelebration in the tags!

Here are some prompts to get the wheels turning!

Dialogue (you're free to change tense):

"Did you put a spell on me!?"

"If magic made wishes come true, what would you wish for?"

"Are you alone out here?"

"You have no idea what forces you're playing with."

"I can't pretend anymore."

"I'm doing this for you!"

"I'm not supposed to fall for someone like you."

"It's really hot."

"Our love will either save the world or doom it."

"Is that a pentagram?"

"Don't tempt me."

"You're not supposed to be here."

"You're adorable."

"Do you feel it? The pull between us?"

"Ugh, I hate this!"

"I'm not just your protector, I'm bound to you."

"I'm really cold."

"I warned you, being near me comes with a price."

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"You're the only light in my dark world."

"I gave up my soul for you."

"I've always wanted to summon a demon."

"You deserve to know."

"I've heard your voice in my dreams."

"The moon has whispered your name to me."

"Oh... oh!"

"I can give you anything you desire, but there is a price."

"Who are you?"

Setting/AU:

Bookstore

Bonfire celebration

Sacrificial ceremony

Cursed/Enchanted forest

Café

Academia

Soulmate

Abandoned cottage

Moonlit grove

Demon

Priest/Priestess

Monster

Omegaverse

Ritual

Warlock/Witch

Tropes:

Friends to lovers

Enemies to lovers

Forced proximity

Fake relationship

Secret relationship

Second-chance

Marriage of convenience

Arranged marriage

Fated mates

Only one bed

Amnesia

Professor/Student

Idiots in love

Fuck or die

Haaaave fuuuuuun~