#ive spent to much time studying this man

[awriternamedart]

saw a post about how flippy floppy gepard is in the story and i figured why not give my very gepard - oriented autism a go

The post mentioned specifcally how seemingly erratic Gepard's choices in the story are. Hes blindly following Cocolia , then hes letting the trailblazers into the city , then hes illegally letting them past him . But heres the thing , these really arent that erratic of changes - first of all , theres years Gepard has been under Cocolias command , and even though he was shown to question it he didnt act.

The explanation is in Gepards character description .

"A captain in the Silvermane Guards and an outstanding warrior of Belobog. He is meticulous and vigilant to the core and always true to himself."

Of Belobog. Note how it says hes a Captain in the Silvermane Guards , but he is of Belobog.

Gepards loyalty is not primarily with the Supreme Guardian, or with the Silvermane Guards. It is to Belobog.

When you take this at heart , his choices begin to make more sense with the story.

Note - Gepard is also used heavily as a literary device to represent the upper half of Belobog in a character , and this should be kept in mind as well.

He follows Cocolia because she convinces him its for the better of Belobog . When the Trailblazers arrive , he brings them to her because if they have a solution , he knows she is the best person for them to help and he trusts that they do . When they conflict in the fortress , Gepard is persuaded by them and his sister that the Trailblazers do in fact have the answer for Belobogs survival and because of this, lets them through .

And his judgement is proven right. In the moments he had to make these pivotable decisions - extremely key decisions might I add - He does let Belobog steer course for survival , he is key in that path as well .

Gepards loyalty does not lay in a single person . His loyalty lies with Belobog , and he chooses to follow and believe the people who he deems the best option to carry out this loyalty with .

Source - Gepard Landau Character Bio , Gepard Landau Character Story 2

also that line is what inspired akrasia lmao ok bye

[behaemoth]

people on this website straight up do not know what linguistics is which is fine it's a pretty niche subject but like. man.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

So happy your back!!!😊😊❤️could you please do one where the readers (Baldwin Iv’s wife’s) mind work differently, for example she doesn’t understand jokes or sarcasm, doesn’t pick up on social cues, brutally honest, obsessed with organization and cleanliness, but very smart and kind and she’s very self conscious because she knows she’s different and Baldwin reassures her that her mind is a gift from god, and that he loves her, later on Baldwin hears people gossiping about her because she’s different and gets angry and confronts them and defends her. Thank you! 😊

♡ Gift From God - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for the request and your kind words 🩷, I'm so sorry this has taken so long to get to, I have been so busy 😭. I hope you enjoy! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, Self Doubt

Y/n had always been different. For her entire life, she never truly felt the same as everybody around her.

Not her brothers and sisters or her friends. Especially not her parents. Her father was a lord with much land. He was powerful and required respect.

Many times through her life he had become angry at his daughter for speaking out of turn during important meetings or events and embarrassing him.

Y/n was intelligent. Women were not supposed to be intelligent, they were supposed to bear children and take care of their husbands. They were supposed to be silent.

Y/n was far from silent.

She spoke her mind. She simply couldn't help it and did not understand why so many were offended by her. She never meant to harm anybody, it just happened.

Her intelligence left many feeling threatened by her with the blunt remarks and witty replies. Because of this, she had been rejected by many men who her father wanted her to marry.

The young lady was kind, organized, clean and tidy.

“I would make a perfect wife!” she thought one day. “Why am I not enough?”

She felt alone in the world for many years, until he came along. The king of Jerusalem himself who her father had arranged for her to marry.

No matter how much she protested this, her father was insistent.

Y/n had come to believe she was unlikable and would never make a good wife. It wasn't that she did not want to be married, she simply believed that no man would want to marry her.

But this simply was not the case. From the day he laid eyes on her, Baldwin was in love. She was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and after speaking to her for the first time after the wedding, she was even more beautiful in his eyes.

Her words were like magic, leaving him hanging at the end of each sentence. He loved how she spoke so honestly.

To the young king, she was different to every woman he had ever met. She was unique and reassured her of his such feelings. He loved everything about her.

The two were a perfect match. They played chess, studied in the library, and had many deep conversations well into the night, lying side by side in a comfortable bed.

They spent every possible moment together.

Y/n had been nervous at first, desperately trying to remember everything her mother had taught her about being a good wife, but her nerves were soothed with each moment she spent with her new husband.

Baldwin was gentle and kind, patiently reminding her of social hints that she missed in public and doing everything he could to stimulate her sharp mind. 

They had been wed for a few weeks and everything was perfect. The castle had taken a great liking to their new queen and Baldwin could not be more pleased.

She fit right in.

Until one day, the young king overheard something that made his blood boil.

Guy De Lusignan, his sister's husband, sat in the dining room, speaking with a small group when Baldwin heard him mention the name of his wife.

The young king stopped to listen with his ear against the door.

“She is a total freak,” the older man said.

“Can't take a joke, blunt and cold. I don't know what the leper sees in her. HAH! What am I saying, they are perfect for eachother! They can hide away in his chambers and play chess all day like the freaks they are-”

Baldwin had heard enough and pushed open the door, taking the air out of him slightly but he did not care.

“How dare you speak ill of my wife! Not just my wife but your queen. Show some respect for your higher ups, you ungrateful bastard!”

It was not often that the young king raised his voice, but when he did, even the most arrogant listened.

Baldwin even shocked himself with the sudden outburst.

“Y-yes my lord. I apologize” Guy stammered out, standing and taking a small bow with that half smile Baldwin despised.

“Get out of my sight. The lot of you” he growled sternly.

The group obliged and scurried off, leaving Baldwin to his thoughts.

He took a seat at the table with a pained groan. How could this happen? Why did Guy have to be so cruel? He simply prayed that his beautiful wife never heard that rotton man speak about her like that.

It would break her heart.

She had been doing so well, finally accepting herself and coming out of her shell and all.

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

Baldwin returned to his chambers to find y/n tidying up his desk. Upon noticing him, she turned to her husband with a smile.

“Hello darling! I figured I would tidy up a little while you were out!”

Baldwin smiled, his heart relaxing in her presence.

“Thank you my love” he said gently, taking his wife in his arms.

Pleasantly surprised by the sudden affection, y/n wrapped her arms around him in return.

“Never change y/n. You are a gift from God Himself. I adore you just the way you are” Baldwin sighed.

The young queen smiled, looking up at him.

“Thank you sweetheart. I love you just the same and I always will

[chaoticcupcakeee]

Chapter Four: The Dungeon Master and Depression

***BEFORE YOU READ ANY FURTHER THERE IS GOING TO BE SEX, HEAVY BDSM THEMES, AND OTHER GENERAL NSFW THINGS. IF YOU ARE A MINOR/A BLANK BLOG/ A BLOG WITH NO AGE PLEASE DO NOT INTEREACT! IF I SEE IT, I WILL BLOCK IMMEDIATELY! THANKS!<3***

Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, alcohol consumption, Steve needs a hug, sad Steve, Eddie being the literal sexiest man on the planet, daddy kink, spit kink, spanking, cum eating, squirting, bondage, masterbation, Dom! Eddie, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), BDSM themes, Eddie and Steve are in their early to mid 40s and reader is in her mid 20s

Summary: Eddie shows you a side of him you haven't seen before and things with Steve take a turn for the worst

Authors Note: Hi yall, i just wanted to say thank you for all the love on this series so far, ive really enjoyed writing it! also im very nervy about posting this chapter bc the smut is intense! i prommy it wont always be this intense but anyways ENJOY :D 9k

**Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Five**

(banners and headers by @cafekitsune)

The next few days were spent mostly consoling Violet, she had made the decision to break up with Quinn. She didn’t trust them anymore and you didn’t blame her. You and Eddie took turns holding her when she cried or getting her to shower and eat food. It left little time for you and Eddie to spend time alone, never getting the chance to finish what you started after your date.

You could steal kisses here and there, but no heavy petting. It was driving you insane, it was like the universe was punishing you for dating your best friend’s dad.

After a few days she decided she needed to get out of Hawkins for a little while and went to spend a week at her mom’s. You made her promise to text her whenever she needed, and Eddie offered again to go over to talk to Quinn. She waved both of you off, reassuring you that she’d be fine. You drove her to the airport and off she went.

It made you feel guilty that you were so relieved that she had left, you felt like you were the worst best friend in the world. First dating her dad, and secondly happy she was leaving you after just having a brutal break-up.

What kind of friend are you?

You spent the next few days catching up on school, finally getting a chance to focus now that you didn’t have to worry about Violet as much. Not wanting to waste the very limited time the two of you had at Eddies, you spent the nights at his house covering the entire house in random textbooks and various versions of assignments. Sometimes the two of you would sit on the couch, he would watch tv while you studied, or you’d be in a chair out in the garage while Eddie played guitar and smoked. Or your favorite, cuddled up on his lap on his bed, Eddie silently reading a book and caressing the skin available to him.

It was perfect domestic bliss, he’d cook the two of you breakfast in the morning, and he’d come home to a homecooked meal in the evening. The only thing you were missing was his cock, mid terms were coming up and you were absolutely swamped. Spending all of your time that wasn’t spent at school, or working, was dedicated to more school. It was frying your brain.

Then one day you had finally had enough, another one of your professors had added another paper due on top of studying for all of your other exams. You had so many things you needed to get done before Thanksgiving you thought your head was going to explode.

You spent some time crying in your car that day, before walking up the driveway into Eddies house. Now a second home to you, you take off your shoes and head to Eddies bedroom and snuggling under the sheets, breathing in his scent. You hear Eddies familiar footsteps coming up the stairs into the bedroom the two of you basically shared.

“hey sweetpea-“ the rest of his greeting dying on his lips.

You feel him before you see him, he just slides into bed with you and holds you tightly against him. Then you lose it some more, crying into one of his pillows, just so stressed out. You needed all of it to go away, you didn’t want to think anymore.

He pushes the hair out of your face and wipes away your tears, “hey talk to me baby, what’s goin on? Hmm?” he questions, concern in his voice.

“It’s too much” you croak, turning over and nuzzling your face into his chest.

“Make it go away, please make it go away, my brain is so tired, I just need a break!” you sob harder into his embrace.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your body, protecting you from the outside world.

“I know baby, I know, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry” he says calmly, leaving little kisses in your hair.

The two of you tangled up together in silence, just him touching your skin and you holding on to him for dear life. It stays like this for a few minutes. You can practically hear Eddies mind working a thousand miles a minute.

“... do you really want it to go away?” Eddie asks, almost a whisper.

You nodded feverishly into his chest, grabbing his shirt and pulling him impossibly closer to you.

“Please,” you whisper into his chest.

Eddie pulls the two of you apart so you can see his face, his eyes serious with anticipation. He caresses your cheek with his hand, running his thumb across your lips.

“I wanna show you something, you don’t have to say yes. But I think it might help.” He says, waiting for your answer.

You nod your head, ready to try anything to get your brain to calm down. He takes you by your hands, carefully getting you up and on your feet. Being so gentle with you, almost like he was afraid you’d break if he moved to quick or touched you too hard. Eddie led you down the stairs into the kitchen, right in front of the basement door.

He looked at you anxiously, you rarely if ever saw him anxious, it made your heart rate spike a little feeding off his nervous energy.

He opens the door and leads you down into the basement, immediately confused by Eddies immense anxiety. It’s just a basement, it had loads of Eddies DnD books nicely tucked away on bookshelves, a huge circular table in the middle with papers scattered all over it, and a bunch of props and miniatures that you assumed Eddie used for various DnD campaigns. Eddie meets you at the bottom of the stairs and puts his hand in yours, his eyes still timid.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess, I’ve been working on a new campaign.” He says while nervously scratching the back of his head. You squeeze his hand giving him some reassurance.

“Look, I know we haven’t been dating very long, but I really fucking like you. So just bear with me kay? I don’t wanna scare you off,” he states, fiddling with your fingers in his hands.

“You could never scare me off Eddie” you say plainly, having more admiration for him than almost anybody else.

With a sigh he guides you past all the DnD stuff into a hidden black door under the stairs, the door locked with a key padlock.

Eddie grabs a key off a chain that’s on his neck that he wears every day, you always thought it was just for decoration and not practical use. He turns the key into the lock and leads you into a dark room and turns on the light.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the room, not really sure what you’re seeing. The walls are blood red, various toys, whips, paddles, and a saint Andrews cross leaning in the corner between two walls. At the center of the room was a bed with black satin sheets, with a black bed frame with various hooks and chains attached to it.

You look at Eddie in surprise, you didn’t expect him to have a whole fucking sex dungeon in his basement. You were impressed, you usually only read about stuff like this in your books. Never thinking that you’d actually get to experience it in real life.

“This is uh, welcome to my dungeon” he says, grandiosely waving his hands to show off the room, chuckling nervously to himself. You smile lightly at him, still your goofy Eddie.

“You can totally tell me to fuck off, and we don’t ever have to talk about this ever again, scouts honor. I just.. I thought maybe because of the books you like to read. Maybe we had uhm similar interests,” he says, closing the door behind the two of you.

You’re still in awe of what you see before you, finding something new to look at every second, you start to feel yourself getting excited. The anxiety melting away the longer you were in this room, like it was magic.

“Please say something, anything, you’re killin’ me here darlin,” he says, pulling your hand to his lips, leaving tiny kisses in their wake.

You walk farther into the room, dusting your fingers along the various toys and instruments on the wall. Eddie follows suit, rubbing his arms up and down your shoulders while you look. You turn around and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. He looks at you hungrily, waiting for your next move, you’ve never wanted him more.

“Turn off my brain Eds, please,” you beg, putting on your prettiest doe eyes.

Eddie curses under his breath and shakes his head trying to concentrate. He hugs you tightly as a thank you that you didn’t run out of the room kicking and screaming. He sits the two of you on a bench at the foot of the bed, holding your hands in his.

“Alright sweetness, I gotta lay down a few rules before we play, okay?” He says, clearly in his element. You nod, understanding what he means. Being familiar with the world of BDSM, but never getting to act on it before.

“First things first, safe words, If I ask you for your color, you respond with Green, Yellow, or Red. Green meaning you’re okay mentally and physically and I can keep going. Yellow meaning that you’re reaching your limit and I need to check in with you. Red meaning stop, you say this word and whatever scene we are doing will stop immediately and we will go into aftercare. I want you to feel safe during every single part of this, so don’t be afraid to stop a scene, okay? This is supposed to be fun for the both of us. Ya with me so far?” He smiles lightly trying to keep the tension light but letting know that he means business.

“With ya Eds,” you say with a nod of your head.

You can practically hear his heart swelling with pride. He continues to go through some more safety rules, what to do if you’re bound or gagged and can’t say a safe word. He goes through some walk throughs of what some of the various toys do, to see what piques your interest. He asks you if you know any of your hard or soft limits, you give him some basic ones, open to a lot considering you didn’t have a ton of real life experience in this department. You were starting to get a little nervous, hoping that you would live up to Eddies expectations.

He senses the panic inside you and squeezes your hands. “Don’t worry okay? You agreeing to try this with me is already a dream come true, I just want to help you feel better, help you let go.” He says sweetly.

You take a deep breath and lean back into him on the bench. He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your arms and then around your waist, tugging up the bottom of your shirt and lifting it over your head, and does the same with your leggings. He has you stand in front of him, leaving you in only your bra and underwear, your skin erupting in goosebumps when it hits the cold air.

“Beautiful,” he says breathlessly, his eyes scanning over every inch of your body. You look at him, you can see his cock already stiffening in the confines of his pants.

“Bend over for me baby,” he commands. Situating you over his lap, ass in the air, making your thoughts immediately cloud with want. You had never been in such a compromising position before and you loved it, showing yourself off to him.

“I’ll start slow, remember, any time you need to stop just say red and I’ll stop okay?” he reminds you one last time before he starts.

He readies you by palming each of your cheeks with his hands, increasing the pressure with each touch. You can already feel the heat rising in your body, your legs squirming together trying to find any sort of friction. Eddie seeing your desperation grabs your legs forcing them apart with his leg.

“You’re so fuckin cute, you’ll learn,” he warns, earning you a light slap across your left check. You gasp not expecting it, making your eyes roll back in pleasure, grinding your hips against Eddie’s clothed legs.

Two more light slaps come down on each cheek, eliciting a whimper from your lips, your hips grinding up wanting more. You can feel his length twitch underneath you with every smack, and your wetness seeping into your panties, you’d never been this desperate in your life.

“What’s your color princess, you doin okay?” he questions, genuine concern in his voice that makes your heart swell.

“Green Eds, m’ good,” you say hazily, your mind starting to cloud over.

With that confirmation he slowly increases the intensity of each slap, switching between your two cheeks. It only made you whimper louder, wanting even more. The slaps were now punishing, surely your cheeks bright pink from the abuse. You were surprised, you never thought something like this would feel so good. But you couldn’t help it, your panties now completely soaked through.

“You like that, you like when I hurt you?” he says, leaning into the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.  You nod wildly, not trusting your words.

You hear Eddie click his tongue, “Nuh uh pretty girl, down here you gotta use your words. Now I’m gonna ask again, you like it when I hurt you?” he demands, landing two more harsh slaps against your bottom.

“Yes, yes Eddie I like when you hurt me” you say desperately. Your body buzzing, every cell screaming with need. Your mind thinking of only him and the pain he gives you, mind completely blank.

“Good girl baby, doin such a good job” he praises, you smile at his praise, sinking further and further away from all the worries that had bothered you not a half hour ago.

He lands an especially mean slap on your right cheek pulling a loud moan out of your mouth, you can hear Eddies laugh vibrate through his chest.

“Fuck look at you baby, taking everything I give you. You’re my little pain slut aren’t you?” he mocks, tutting and rubbing at your now very red ass.

“Mhmm” you mutter brainlessly, trying to push your legs together, your clit on fire with need.

“Words pretty girl, I need words, that’s your last warning before you regret it,” he warns, gifting you another brutal slap.

“Y-yes, your pain slut, all yours,” you babble pathetically, desperate tears begging to spill from your eyes.

“Fuck me, yeah you are, C’mere let me look at you, get on your knees f’me” he says breathlessly, helping you off his lap and down between his legs. You lay your head against one of his knees, looking up at him between your eyelashes.

He brushes his hand across your cheek, rubbing your lips with his thumb. In your brainless state you allow his thumb into your mouth sucking on it while maintaining eye contact. You felt so free, knowing that he was going to take care of you, that you didn’t have to think anymore, giving up control gave your brain freedom that you wouldn’t have otherwise.

“Perfect” he utters, barely above a whisper, mesmerized by the way your mouth was sucking his thumb in, swirling the tip of his thumb with your tongue. Wanting more than just his thumb you tug on his pants and belt with your hand, but it wasn’t your turn to be in control. Eddie pulls the bottom of your chin up, straining your neck to meet his demand.

He pinches your cheeks together, forcing your mouth open wider. He takes his thumb out of your mouth replacing it with his pointer and middle fingers, seeing how deep you can put them down your throat. While maintaining eye contact, you suck his fingers all the way to the back of your throat until you choke lightly on them.

“You look so pretty with your mouth all full” he says as he leans down to leave a kiss on the side of your very full mouth.

All the praise becoming too much, squirming aimlessly in the air, whimpering around Eddies fingers. He seems to get a kick out of your desperation, cursing under his breath. All made more apparent by his very hard cock outlined in his pants.

“Alright sweet thing, climb up on the bed for me” he commands, tapping the silk sheets on the bed. You do as your told, meanwhile Eddie removes his shirt, belt, and pants. You look at him hungrily, with the playing field now level.

He sits down onto the bed next to you, pulling you into a deep kiss. Your bodies melt together, his hands everywhere, grabbing every inch of you. The two of you relax onto the bed, letting him kiss and nip and your skin, slowly taking off your bra and panties until you were completely bare in front of him.

He pulls your legs apart, not allowing you to hide any part of yourself from him. You were embarrassed by how wet you had gotten just from that act alone, he barely touched you.

Eddie curses under his breath, pulling apart your folds to see you dripping down your thighs.

“My needy needy girl”, he coos, dipping one of his fingers into your entrance, gathering some of your release on his fingers. He brings it up to your mouth, you suck in his fingers eagerly, wanting to please. Your release taste tangy and sweet, you moan around his fingers at the dirty act. Dipping his fingers back at your entrance, taking some of your release for himself, moaning around his fingers.

Focusing his attention back on you, he straddles you and puts your hands above your head and kisses you deeply. You feel him grind against your core making you buck up against him. Your groans filling the room, the tension becoming too much to bear.

“Need you eds, please,” you beg, the pressure between your legs driving you insane. That’s the only confirmation Eddie needed before taking his boxers off, sliding his throbbing cock in between your soaked folds. You wrap your legs around his back, pushing him harder against you.

He lines up his cock up to your entrance and slowly pushes in, his length pushing up against your cervix as he bottoms out. You whine, biting down on his shoulder, provoking a curse from his mouth.

“Color baby?” he asks breathlessly against your skin.

“Green Eds, really fucking green,” you grin against his shoulder, kissing the tattoo along his jaw.

Your words, diminishing the last of his resolve as he starts to thrust in and out of your heat slowly. Your eyes glass over, the pleasure being too much, you had never been so full. Not even your dildo doing half as much as Eddies cock.

“Shit, your pussy was fucking made for me, made to take my fucking cock,” he growls, biting down on a part of your neck, trying to contain his groans and whines.

You dig your claws into his back, wishing him deeper inside of you. Eddie using that as an okay to go faster, he grabs an edge of the bed frame for leverage. The wet sounds of his cock entering you drowning out your whimpers and moans.

“Uh, uh, uh, oh, fuuuckk E-eddie” you wail, your eyes rolling back and your mouth falling open.

“You like that baby, you like it when I fuck you like the little slut you are? All you needed was a few slaps on your ass for you do go dumb huh?” he mocks, pistoning harder into your core.

“Yes, yes I fucking love it, more please,” you beg, you wanted to see how much more you could handle, the pleasure building between your legs.

Eddie takes one of his hands off the bed frame, cupping the sides of your jaw with his hand.

“Open,” he demands. You obey, all rational thoughts gone long ago. Taking the opportunity, he spits sloppily into your mouth, you swallow and take what he gives your greedily.

“Atta girl, doing what your told” he sighs proudly, going back to concentrating rocking his hips against yours with vigor. You could feel yourself getting close, all of it becoming too much, the fucking, the slapping, the dirty talk, it was all perfect. You were plummeting quickly to your release, your walls spasming in anticipation.

“If you keep squeezing me like that m’ not gonna last much longer,” he confesses, leaving little kisses on your neck.

“Eds- I- fuck- I’m gonna cum- please cum in me please, need your cum,” you beg, feeling your release threatening to take over.

“Fuck,” he curses, you can feel his pace getting sloppier, fucking you through your release. Your legs shaking, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes glazed over, having the biggest orgasm you’ve ever had in your life.

Your walls clamp down on Eddie, not lasting much longer after you, spilling his seed into your waiting center. You feel his release spill out onto your thighs and sheets.

“Please tell me you’re on the pill” he mutters into your chest, sweat covering both of your bodies. You giggle and caress his hair, playing with his dark brown and greying curls.

“Yeah, ‘m on the pill,” you confirm, leaving a kiss at the top of his head. Eddie sighs thankfully on your chest, followed by a few minutes of silence from the two of you. Basking in each others after sex glow, gentle touches and light kisses.

You stay cuddled up for a while, neither of you wanted to go back to reality. The basement was like your safe place, where both of you could let go, like really let go. He saw things in you today that up until now, you had never let anyone see that side of you. He allowed you the same, taking down his walls showing you everything he had to offer.

He showed that he really cared about you, that he could take care of you even when your brain was against you. That was something you had never had before, someone who knew you and cared about you enough to help you fight the endless battles in your brain. You swore to yourself right there that you’d help him fight his battles too.

After a while he got up and got you a glass of water and a warm washcloth to help wipe you off. Your center still sensitive from your previous activities. Eddie was gentle, taking his time, making sure you were physically okay. He even put cream on your sore, soon to be bruised ass, after many many kisses that made you blush.

His teddy bear eyes looking into yours, while the two of you lay naked in bed, him painting circles on your face.

“How’s your head now baby? Better?” he asked hopeful. Tears form at the tips of your eyes, you nod your head vigorously. Your tears making Eddies eyes fill with concern.

“What baby? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asks soothingly.

You shake your head, trying to find the words for what you were feeling. “No no I’m fine, I’m just.. happy. My brain is so quiet, I can’t remember the last time my brain was so quiet.” You sob into Eddies chest, pulling him closer into you. He wraps his arms around you and shushes your tears, wiping them from your face leaving little kisses in their wake.

“It’s okay baby, I’m here, I gotcha” he says, comforting you with more kisses, squeezing you tighter against him. The two of you spend the rest of the night down in the basement, eventually falling asleep in each other’s arms, completely content.

When you wake up the following morning, you are still wrapped up in each other’s arms, Eddie still lightly snoring. You take this time to really take him in, his beautiful chocolate brown eyes, the laugh lines around his lips, his lips so pink and plush, the light wrinkles around his eyes, the dark curly brown hair that falls in front of his face, you didn’t know how you got so lucky. Not only is Eddie quite literally the sweetest man you had ever met in your life, but he’s also the most handsome.

You snuggle back into him, basking in his embrace. A little while later he wakes from sleep, stretching out, allowing you to get up and go to the bathroom.

“Hey little missy where do you think you’re goin?” he asks, pouting in bed patting the space where you were previously occupying.

“Just gotta pee,” you whisper, hoping maybe he will fall back asleep, but Eddie is stubborn.

“Just hold it, come back and cuddle,” he whines. You chuckle and kiss the top of his head before putting on his Metallica t shirt and heading out the door and up the stairs to the kitchen. You walk into the downstairs bathroom and gasp at the state you were left in. You still had mascara smudges under your eyes from crying and cumming, your hair was sticking up every which way, you looked a mess. And yet the beautiful man downstairs still wanted you, lucky you.

After you clean up a little and comb through your hair, you head to the kitchen to grab the two of you something to eat. You hear the basement door open, and the man you were just thinking about emerges, wearing only his boxers.

“I get to fuck the girl of my dreams AND she made me breakfast, I can die a happy man,” he remarks, enveloping you into a passionate kiss. You giggle against him, still not used how much he likes you.

“And you’re wearing my shirt,” he comments, taking a handful of your ass in each hand making you hiss, your butt still sore from the beating it received the day before.

“Just wanna touch base, everything yesterday was okay right? It wasn’t exactly what I picture our first time to be like but, I don’t regret it. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, definitely did not disappoint,” he expresses.

“It was better than I could’ve imagined Ed, really. You were beautiful.” You confess, going on your tippy toes to steal a kiss from him.

The two of you spend the rest of the morning cuddled up on the couch eating breakfast, before you had to part ways. You had classes most of the day and Eddie had to go into the office for work.

Leaving Eddie was the hardest part of any day, but especially today. You had Steves class today, you always dreaded going after everything went down between the two of you. You wished to stay here forever.

The two of you share way too many last kisses before the two of you leave his house in your respective cars. You needed to go to your apartment before class to change, and then Sociology 101.

You waited as long as you possibly could before going into the classroom, you’ve started a routine of avoiding Steve as much as humanly possible. But when you entered the class, instead of being met by Steves sad eyes, you were met by a balding older man with grey hair. You look around at the rest of the class as you make your way to your seat, they also seem equally as confused as you. The man in the front of the class introduces himself as Professor McCarthy, he explained that he was going to take over for Steve for the time being.

“Where is Professor Harrington?” The girl who sits behind you asks, a slight whine in her voice.

“He has taken a seemingly well-deserved sabbatical,” Professor McCarthy confesses with zero empathy in his voice.

You can barely pay attention during class, your thoughts swimming threatening to drown you.

Why did he leave?

Was it because of you?

Does Robin know?

Was he forced to take a leave?

Did people find out about the two of you?   

You hated to admit it, but a small part of your brain was trying to say something. Loud enough for you to hear it through the madness.

Is he okay?

You didn’t know why, but you still cared about Steve. Even though he hurt you, you wanted to know he was alright. After so many weeks of getting to know him, you knew how much being a teacher meant to him. You knew how passionate he is about the subject he teaches; it worried you that he could just leave. It had to mean something was really wrong.

The rest of the class goes by in a blur, the new professors voice conveniently very easy to drone out. You were the first one to leave the room once class was over. Speed walking down the hall, heading to the only place you knew you’d find answers.

You knock on the door to Robins office, hoping that she was in today.

“Come in!” she calls out.

She looks startled when she sees you standing in her doorway, expecting to see a student with questions about an assignment.

“Uh, hi.” You say awkwardly, still standing in the doorway.

“Hey Y/N, come in, why don’t you sit down,” she offers kindly, already knowing why you’re here.

“Where is he?” you ask bluntly.

Robin sighs before answering, her eyes moving, trying to think of the best way to explain it to you.

“He just needed a break, and the board allowed it,” she says plainly

“I wanna talk to him,” you confess, words leaving your mouth before you could think. Yes, you were upset with Steve, definitely hurt. But that doesn’t mean that you wanted him to leave his job, the both of you are adults. You feel guilty, like you’re the reason he left, and you needed closure.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea honey,” Robin says empathetically.

Your heart drops.

“Please? At least think about it, okay? I’m not mad anymore, I just, I wanna make sure he’s okay,” you admit, hoping to clear the air.

Robin nods and promises that she’ll think about it, but she didn’t seem very convincing. The following days after, dragged on, still piled high with homework. Made worse now because your new sociology professor is the worst, he talked too fast and without any tone in his voice, you caught a few students falling asleep in his class, it was that bad.

Eddie helped a lot, staying over at your house some nights to cuddle up with you after staring at your computer screen for hours on end. You felt guilty that you were so worried about Steve, when you had the perfect man in front of you. You convinced yourself it was just guilt, you just wanted to make sure he’s okay.

Then you got lucky, one morning when you walked into Robins classroom, where you usually sat was a note.

“Here’s his number, don’t make me regret it.” Was etched into the paper.

Your heart flutters in anticipation as hope fills your chest. You spend time after class thinking about the right thing to say, do you text him? Do you call him? You decide on a text, thinking a text is less daunting than calling him.

“Hey Steve, its Y/N. heard about ur sabbatical, hope ur okay” Not really sure what to say, your finger hovers over the send button for a few seconds before you send it. Immediately followed by you throwing your phone across the room.

What the fuck are you doing?

You spend the next couple of hours on your laptop doing your homework, sneaking peaks at your phone, triple checking that you hadn’t missed any messages from Steve. You reasoned with yourself that he might be on vacation or at least just busy. You try to get out of your head and focus on your homework.

The next few days you spent checking your phone every once in awhile looking for a text from Steve that hadn’t come. You were starting to get anxious, even a little worried. The semester was coming to a close, all your assignments turned in and only one mid term left to take. You had come to terms with the idea that Steve just wasn’t going to text you back, he didn’t owe you anything, I guess you’d just have to find closure on your own.

Until one afternoon, the day before thanksgiving, you get a text.

“I miss u”

You stare at your phone, double checking that the text was coming from the right number, Steve’s number. Concern floods your system, this is unlike him.

“Steve? R u okay?”

“I meszed it all up Y/N, im sry”

You’re heart now threatening to beat out of your chest, something was wrong, really wrong. You’re old enough to know when you’re getting a drunk text, what if he was out somewhere alone in this state? You needed to make sure he was okay, or at least somewhere safe.

“Steve tell me where u are, r u safe?”

“Come overrr” is all that is written, followed by a ping to an address. You grab your keys and your coat without a second thought. You get in your car and drive faster than what was probably safe, thoughts only on Steve.

When you finally get to the address, it takes you to a huge house on the outside of town. You let yourself through the gate and park in the huge driveway. You knock on the front door, it squeaks open lightly, you take deep breath and let yourself in. The house is massive, like really big, like old money big. The place is so big, you wander around for a little while searching the various extravagant rooms on the first floor until you find Steve in what you assume is the study.

He's slumped over onto his desk, his hand holding a fancy glass filled with amber liquid. You knock on the side of the door, jostling Steve from his drunk stupor.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” his words slightly slurred.

“Uh, you texted me, you gave me this address,” you feel your heart drop into your stomach, you knew this was a bad idea.

You see Steve’s bloodshot eyes search for the memory of sending you his address, raking his hands through his hair. Steve looked like he hadn’t taken care of himself for awhile, stains all over t-shirt and sweatpants. Your heart ached seeing him this way, guilt washed over you like a tsunami. This entire time you were thinking about yourself and your own closure, and not about the clearly broken man sitting before you.

“This was a mistake, I should go,” you admit before turning in the doorway to leave the way you came in.  

“No, p-please wait! I- fuck everything is so fucked up I don’t know what to do anymore. Just stay.” He looks up at you through his glassy red eyes, begging you to stay.

You decide to stay, you step closer to his desk to get a better look at the state he’s in. He probably hasn’t showered in days, and he reeked of alcohol.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” is all you can think to say, you can’t stand to see him this way any longer.

Steve allows you to get him up and out of the chair, the two of you half stumble while he shows you how to get to the master bathroom. You help him get out of his clothes until he’s left in just his boxers, you do your best not to stare. Even in the state he’s in, you still fought the urge to drool at the sight of him. You turn on the hot water, and look at him sitting on the toilet almost completely naked.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he mumbles groggily.

You suck in a deep breath and let it out harshly, you had always known that. If you knew anything about Steve Harrington, you know that he couldn’t hurt a fly. But you couldn’t believe anything he was saying right now. He was still drunk, and you didn’t know how he was going to feel once he sobered up.

“Why don’t you get in the shower, and we can talk once you’re out, okay?” you reassure him, leaving the room to give him space.

His bedroom was a mess, clothes and random liquor bottles everywhere, you tidy it up the best you can before making your way back downstairs to the kitchen. The kitchen is huge, meant for a chef or someone who really likes to cook. But instead, you see containers of take out and microwave dinners piled in the over flowing garbage and more dishes crowding in the sink. You take out the garbage and do the dishes.

By the time you’re finishing up the dishes you hear footsteps pattering into the kitchen.

“Hi” he says meekly.

“Hi” you reply, placing the last dish into the dishwasher.

He stands next to you, one hand on the counter and one hand on his hip, trying to think of what to say. He opens and closes his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“It’s fine really Steve, I’m happy to help,” you confess, turning your body to face him.

Steve looks down at his hands, when he looks back up at you, fresh tears have formed on his lash line.

“I’m the worst, aren’t I?” he questions, his voice breaking.

Your heart broke with him, “No Steve, you’re not the worst. At little messed up, definitely. But far from the worst.”

He looks at you gratefully before he continues speaking.

“I- I thought you hated me. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t know how I screwed things up so badly. I’m sorry I brought you all the way out here. I just... fuck I just missed you Y/N,” he babbles, his tears now flowing down his face in little streams.

You walk a few steps closer to him, not trusting yourself to touch him.

Eddie, remember Eddie.

“I don’t hate you Steve, I could never hate you. I was just hurt and confused. Honestly, I still am hurt and confused, I just. I couldn’t bear the thought of you not teaching or being upset because of me. That’s why I came,” you reassure him, hoping your eyes show him the rest. That you do care for him, and want him to be okay.

Steve nods, mulling over your words, wiping his eyes. Then you hear some buzzing on the marble kitchen counter. Steve’s phone goes off, he looks at his phone and answers it immediately. You can hear Robins worried voice on the other end of the phone anxiously babbling questions off at him. You felt good knowing that even if you weren’t in Steves life, he still had Robin.

“No, ugh Rob I’m fine, please you don’t need to come and check on me.”

“Yes, I’ve showered. NO! Don’t bring Nancy, I don’t want her to see me like this.” He rubs his forehead, probably nursing a headache.

Steve hangs up the phone and looks at you.

“Uhm, Rob is coming over, and.. you probably shouldn’t be here when she gets here” he says awkwardly, he looks like he has more to say but decided against it.

You nod your head in understanding. Steve walks you to the front door, thanks you a million more times before waving you off as you get in your car and drive away.

You pull of on the side of the road, a few blocks from Steves place. You put your arms around the steering wheel, thinking about what just happened.

He is just a friend, someone you care about who needed your help.

You shake your head out of your thoughts and head back to your apartment. As you pull into the parking lot your phone dings, you park your car and look at the notification lighting up your phone screen.

“Come over stinky butt 🍑”

You smile at your phone, of course it’s Eddie, the one who makes you feel safe. The one you don’t have to take care of or worry about, your rock. You put your car in reverse, and drive towards Eddies house. The closer you get to Eddies house, the more every loud thought of Steve was quieting to a whisper, you sigh in relief.

“Vi?!” you say cautiously, a routine you were now used to.

Eddie pokes his head out of the kitchen, “Just me babe” a smile plastered across his face. You smile back and head into the kitchen, only to immediately be scooped up into a hug and lifted off your feet. You breathe in Eddies scent, allowing it to ground you back into your reality.

“Mmm missed you,” Eddie murmurs in between kisses. You wrap your arms around his waist, deepening the kiss.

“Missed you too Eds,” Eddie groans against you, pushing you against the counter.

The two of you kiss some more, allowing yourselves to get lost in each other. When you finally pull back you look into Eddies eyes, they just seem tired. You cup your hand around his face, and his cups your hand with his; grateful for the affection.

“Can I show you something?” he asks, only admiration in his eyes. You kiss him as a yes, and let him guide you back down into the basement. You stomach doing flips remembering the last time the two of you spent time down here. But this time he leads you into the main room. The circular table previously covered in random campaign research, now completely clean except for two stacks of paper in front a chair at the head of the table.

He pulls back the chair, next to the head and ushers you into it. You sit down, looking at him inquisitively. He sits down at the head of the table, clearing his voice before he speaks.

“So, the other day, I really liked seeing that side of you. And I wanted to know if you felt the same way, and if maybe you wanted to do it again,” he confesses, searching for the answer in your eyes. His gaze lights a fire in your belly, and a growing ache between your legs, remember the previous activities down here.

You bite your lip and look at him, trying to find the right words, “I’d like that a lot, I like when you take control,” you confide in him, nudging your leg against his under the table. Eddie takes in a deep breath before speaking again, “I just wanted to go over some more safety stuff, if we are going to really do this, and not have it be a one time thing,” handing you one of the stacks of paper in front of him.

He goes onto explain to you that this is not a contract, but more of a mostly complete list of limits that he wanted the two of you to fill out before playing again. He clarifies that the reason for this is so that neither of you ever accidently make the other feel uncomfortable during a scene. Your eyes looking over the papers curiously, overwhelmed by all the different things listed. He had to explain a few of them to you, him being more experienced than you were. You could feel the tension in the room heating up, and your panties dampening.

Finally, you’re on the last page, your knee bouncing up and down in anticipation.

“Where is Violet?” you ask, a little bit too much excitement in your voice. You see his eyes darken and a smirk splay across his lips.

“She’s working night shift” he says grabbing your chair and bringing it closer to his side, grabbing your thigh harshly.

You let out a shaky breath, you needed this, him. You go to put your hand around his neck to pull him into a kiss, but he grabs your wrist.

“Finish what I’ve asked of you pretty girl” leaving a kiss at the shell of your, evoking goosebumps across your skin.

You swallow hard, all the moisture gone from your mouth. You look back down on the paper, finishing it as fast at you can before looking back up at him for more instructions.

“Good job baby, I’m proud of you. You follow instructions so well” he praises, leaving a light kiss on your cheek. He pulls his eyes away from you for a bit, looking through all of your limits or things you are willing to try. You take this time to do the same with him, shocked by a few things, but even more turned on. Once you’re done reading you look up to see him staring at you hungrily.

“Ready to play sweet thing?” he says, pupils blown in lust.

“Ready,” you say breathlessly, willing air into your lungs.

“One more thing before we start, I like Daddy and Master, just so you know,” he winks at you, and it takes everything in you to stop your knees from buckling.

He takes you by your hand and walks with you to the secret door under the stairs. Your body buzzing, wanting to touch the man in front of you anywhere and everywhere. He opens the door and lets the two of you in. Once the door is closed, he envelops you into a deep kiss, you whimper at his lips on yours.

“Mm fuck, I love your little noises” he hisses, lifting you up by your legs and guiding you to wrap them around his waist. He sits down on the bed, leaving you to straddle his waist. The sheets were changed since you were here last, now a silky maroon color. You take the opportunity to grind your hips down on his lap while he grabs at the skin available to him, the two of you moaning into each other’s mouths. His lips tasting like the last cigarette he smoked, chasing his tongue with yours. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, the way his bulge was rubbing against your clit could make you cum right now with how worked up you are. You moan a little louder into Eddies mouth, making him pull back and look at your already fucked out expression.

“Look at you baby, already so desperate” he teases, lifting you off of him for a second to slide your leggings and panties off. He guides you back onto his lap, situating his fingers at your center, swiping them through your folds.

“And already so fucking wet, such a needy little slut” he mocks. You go back to grinding your hips against his bulge, not being able to help yourself, your clit aching with need.

Eddie stills your hips with his hand, grabbing at your ass and tits roughly before taking off your shirt, leaving you naked except your bra. Eddie takes this time to kiss all the skin newly available to him. You moan loudly into the open room, trying your best to obey and not rock your hips against his.

This task became harder and harder the longer his lips were on yours, kissing that spot on your neck that you like, nipping at your lips, kissing your newly exposed nipples. It was all too much, you grind your hips into his without thinking, and that’s when he swiftly turns the turns the two of you over. You can feel the silk sheets against your back, and his hands on your hips. You whine in protest, trying to rock your hips into his once more.

“Awe, my girl just can’t stay still huh? I can help with that,” He taunts, leaving you to lay on the bed, going into the little nightstand on the side of the bed.

He comes back into view holding leather cuffs in his hands, and a sinister look on your face. He takes his time kissing each of your wrists before helping you into the cuffs, doing the same thing with your ankles. You take a look at your wrists, now partially covered by the leather material, it was tight but not too tight. You feel Eddie move around you before grabbing one of your wrists in his hand lightly hearing a clicking sound as he lays it back down on the bed. You go to pick up your wrist again, realizing you can’t. You look at the head of the bed to see your cuff connected to a restraint in the frame. He continues to do the same thing with your other wrist and both of your ankles.

His stare could bore holes into skin the way that it heated you up from the inside. You struggle lightly against the restraints, trying to test how much movement you had in each limb, which wasn’t much. He sits next to you on the bed, palming your face in one of his hands.

“Color baby?” he questions.

“Green!” you say brightly, excited for the adventure ahead of you.

“Doin’ so good for me” he coos, and then his touch is gone and he’s somewhere in the room. You can hear random rustling but you can’t lift up your head enough to see what he’s grabbing.

He comes back next to you seemingly empty handed, and then he lifts up his hands to you to show you his haul. He has a single black die in his one hand, and a vibrating wand in the other.

“So, we’re gonna play a little game, I’m going to roll the dice. Whatever number the dice lands on, is how many times you have to edge until I let you cum.” He says, he usually chocolate brown eyes now almost black with lust.

You lick your lips and think about how to respond, “Y-yes Daddy” you utter, your face heating up at the new pet name. You hear Eddie curse under his breath. He rolls the die next to your head on the nightstand and chuckles. His face coming close to yours with a wicked grin on his face.

“Can you handle three, angel?” he snickers, leaving kisses along your jaw line, nipping lightly. You nod hurriedly, wanting to be good for the man above you. With that he kisses you deeply one more time before spreading your legs, your dripping core on display for him to see.

You watch him spit messily on the wand and then once more on your heat, spreading it generously on your clit. You hiss at the contact, bucking your hips up slightly wanting more. You hear the hum of the vibrator as Eddie turns it on low, your body full of anticipation, waiting for any sort of pleasure. That’s when you feel it, the low vibration against your clit. You squirm against it at first, wanting more already.

Eddie chuckles lowly above you, “I should call you my little bunny by how much you move, would you like that sweetness? To be my little bunny?” he taunts, turning up the vibration higher, pulling a moan from your lips.

“Yes daddy, wanna be your bunny, your good little bunny” you writhe against the restraints. He rewards you by turning up the vibrator another notch, the pressure quickly building in your stomach.

You writhe against the restraints as the pressure becomes too much, coming it waves, so close to sending you over the edge. And then it’s gone, the vibration still audible in the room but you can no longer feel it. You groan in frustration, you were so fucking close.

“Two more baby, then you can cum” he reassures you. He takes this time, to let the fire inside you simmer. He takes off his shirt and his pants, leaving him in only his boxers. You see him palming himself, you bite your lip, wanting nothing more than to worship his cock.

You feel the vibration once again but this time instead of starting out slow, the vibration knocks the wind out of you. Your clit screaming at you for release, the coil inside you already winding tighter and tigher, your curl your toes, willing yourself not to cum. Then the sensation is gone once again, your body now covered in sweat from being so close twice now, your chest heaving heavily up and down.

“You’re doin so good bunny, just one more for me, kay? Still green?” he asks.

You nod your head not trusting your words, whimpers coming out instead. Eddie takes off his boxers, showing off his now very erect and hard cock, making your mouth water. Stroking it a few times before lining it up with your mouth.

“Spit Bunny” he commands.

You whimper and do as you’re told, gathering all the salvia in your mouth and spitting it onto his tip. He sighs and works your spit around his cock, moaning loudly. He’s teasing you, you’re strapped to the bed and can’t even touch him. He is evil incarnate, and you can’t get enough.

You were so entranced by watching Eddie work his hand over his cock you had forgot what the two of you were doing, until you felt the vibration on the highest setting hit your clit.

You yelp in surprise, keeping your eyes on his cock. Thinking about how his cock feels inside of you, how it stretches you out, hits a spot inside of you that you could never reach. You wanted it, no, you needed it, you needed him or you were going to explode. Your orgasm hurtling towards you like a freight train.

“D-Daddy i- please, i- im gonna cum” you gush, holding your eyes tightly closed, willing yourself not to cum before you’re given the okay. But instead, the vibration is gone, and your orgasm ruined.

You wail in frustration, tears welling in your eyes threatening to spill out, legs shaking. You were so desperate you didn’t even know why you were crying. You feel Eddie unclip your restraints, giving you full range of motion again, you rubbed your wrists thankfully. Eddie pulling you into a hug, kissing the tears out of your eyes.

“You did so good for me baby, you’re such a good girl for Daddy,” he mumbles into your skin. You allow him to hold you for a minute before the need between your legs takes over.

You let out the breath you were holding shakily. Looking at him in anticipation. You lie back down on the bed and open your legs, two could play at this game. You swirl your finger around your aching clit, moaning dramatically. Grabbing your left tit, pinching lightly between your two fingers, giving him a show.

Two firm hands grab both of your wrists putting them above your head, “You coulda just asked sweetness, not that I mind the show, I just had something else in mind” he mocks.

He climbs on top of you, lining his cock up at your entrance, swiping it through your soaked folds.

“Beg for it, beg for my cock,” he demands.

“Please, please I need your cock, please please, I’ve been good, please let me have your cock,” you whine.

With that he pushes into your core, both of you moaning in unison. His pace already quick chasing his own high.

“Fuck your pussy is so fuckin tight” he says, eyes closed trying to hold off his own orgasm. He lifts your legs, bending you almost in half, hitting a spot inside that makes you scream.

“Fuck yes, yeah right there, holy fuck!” you wail.

Doing what he’s told he pistons into you harder, making the wet noises in the room get louder and louder. You can feel pressure building inside you, but it feels different, it feels bigger.

“Can I cum, please can I cum?” not being able to hold it off any longer, eyes pleading with Eddie.

“Yeah, baby go ahead, cum for me, cum for daddy,” he groans.

Then your vision whites out, every cell in your body imploding with pleasure, you feel your release spill out of you and onto the sheets, messily.

“Holy shit- fuck!” is the only warning you get before Eddie’s hips stutter, and he spills his seed inside of you.

“What the fuck” is all you can muster in your fucked out state.

“Yeah what the fuck indeed princess, I didn’t know you could squirt” he says breathlessly, scooping you into his arms, the two of you laying next to each other trying to catch your breaths.

“I didn’t either, I’ve never done it before” you confide, Eddies eyes shining bright with pride. You roll your eyes at him, the last thing he needed was a bigger ego.

“Don’t let it go to your head mister,” you say with a jab to his chest.

“No, I absolutely am, thanks though” he says, putting his hand over his chest like he’s accepting a badge of honor.

The two of you spend the rest of the night down there in each other’s arms, eventually, Eddie gives you his t-shirt and goes to grab the two of you a snack and a glass of water.

“Was this okay? I didn’t hurt you or make you upset, right?” he asks.

You shake your head, “No not at all, I loved every second, can’t wait to do it again,” you say with a wiggle of your eyebrows. It makes Eddie crack a smile and leave a small kiss on your head.

“I just like feeling wanted, you know how stuff like this clears your head? It clears mine too, all I need to do is be there for you, and focus on you. Then my brain is quiet, so thank you,” he confesses, stealing a kiss from your lips. You smile up at him, if you could give him the whole world you would in an instant.

“I think I want to tell Vi, I’m nervous but I’m starting to feel guilty hiding all of this from her. I like you a lot, and she deserves to know what makes me happy,” he says looking sleepily in your eyes.

“You make me happy too, we can tell Vi this weekend, okay? I don’t like hiding things from her either,” you reassure him.

He nods back at you sleepily, snuggling in closure to you like a dog. Eventually the two of you fall asleep, completely content.

Tag List! **if you want to be added to the tag list just lemme know, just need to be 18+**

@sweetblinginrose @tlclick73 @paleidiot @frogtape @too-efn-old-to-be-here @peaches-roses-sins @micheledawn1975 @untitled74745 @hellv1ra @alastorssimp @star-of-velaris @yeaiamme2 @itdobe-liza @mmaaddyy @cozyquinn

[elryuse]

Idol: An Yujin (IVE) Genre: Arranged Marriage, Mafia AU, Yandere (Kind of), Smut (If you want) Basically, the plot is about Y/N Angelo who is the son of the notorious and powerful Italian mafia of the Angelo Family and they go to Korea to send Y/N to study at a University to get a better view of the world. But then he encounters the popular girl... An Yujin she was a bully, gets what she wants and will do anything to get it.

Y/N tried to avoid her but she wouldn't stop then he thought how could things get worse? And of course, it does, one night, he would have a family dinner at a fancy restaurant and he was surprised to find An Yujin herself with her parents and Y/N's father would introduce them as the An Mafia family of Korea, the most powerful criminal organization in the country.

What terrified Y/N was that they agreed to an arranged marriage as a simple piece of paper of a contract wouldn't be legit enough to seal the deal with the two powerful families and Yujin would be delighted as she knew this would mean she could intervene in his private life as much as she wants and Y/N cannot escape as he must comply with the whole marriage and when they graduated from University, the wedding came.

During the honeymoon in Jeju island, it was just Yujin and Y/N but after time passed Y/N would soon get accustomed but would never break from her but Yujin wasn't one to back down from a challenge so she tries again and again even if it meant a lifetime. (As mentioned you can add Smut if you like and please don't feel pressured or rushed as I know I already submitted a request to you already)

THE UNWANTED ALLIANCE

YUJIN (IVE) X MALE READER

Y/N Angelo, the heir to the notorious Angelo Mafia, found himself in the bustling metropolis of Seoul, a stark contrast to the shadowy world he was accustomed to. His father, a man of unwavering power and influence, had sent him to Korea, a strategic move to broaden his horizons and provide a fresh perspective on the world.

However, Y/N's peaceful academic pursuit was soon disrupted by the formidable presence of An Yujin, the campus queen bee. Known for her sharp tongue and ruthless tactics, Yujin was a force to be reckoned with. She took an immediate interest in Y/N, her curiosity piqued by his enigmatic aura and aloof demeanor.

Y/N, accustomed to a life of solitude and discipline, was ill-prepared for Yujin's relentless pursuit. He tried to maintain his distance, but her determination was unwavering. She would weave her way into his life, disrupting his studies, and invading his personal space. Y/N was frustrated, but he knew better than to underestimate her.

One evening, Y/N was forced to attend a family dinner at a luxurious restaurant. As he sat at the table, he felt a surge of unease. His father introduced him to a family at a nearby table, the An family. Y/N's heart sank as he recognized the familiar face of An Yujin.

To his horror, his father revealed that the two families had agreed to an arranged marriage between him and Yujin. The news sent shockwaves through Y/N. He couldn't believe that his life had taken such a drastic turn. Yujin, on the other hand, was ecstatic. She saw this as an opportunity to have complete control over Y/N's life.

The following months were a whirlwind of preparations for the wedding. Y/N, though reluctant, knew he had no choice but to comply. The wedding was a lavish affair, attended by the elite of both the Italian and Korean underworld. Despite his reservations, Y/N couldn't deny the beauty of the ceremony and the allure of his bride.

Their honeymoon in the serene island of Jeju offered a temporary respite from the chaos of their lives. Y/N and Yujin spent their days exploring the island, indulging in its natural beauty, and trying to forge a connection. Yujin, however, was far from content. She yearned for more than just a peaceful honeymoon.

"You know, Y/N," she began one evening, her voice laced with mischief, "I've always wondered what it would be like to truly know you. The real you, beneath that stoic facade."

Y/N, taken aback by her directness, hesitated. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I mean," Yujin continued, leaning in closer, "I want to see the fire beneath the ice. I want to push you to your limits, to see what makes you tick."

Y/N was wary. He knew that Yujin was capable of anything, and he feared that she would use this opportunity to break him. But he also couldn't deny the thrill of the unknown.

"Fine," he said, his voice barely audible. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

From that moment on, their honeymoon took a dramatic turn. Yujin, with her insatiable curiosity, began to probe deeper into Y/N's past, his fears, and his desires. She challenged him at every turn, testing his limits and pushing him to his breaking point.

Y/N, in turn, found himself drawn to her intensity. He was fascinated by her boldness and her unwavering determination. He had never met anyone like her before, someone who could see through his defenses and challenge him in ways he never thought possible.

As their honeymoon drew to a close, they returned to Seoul, ready to face the challenges of their new life together. Yujin, ever the strategist, had already planned their future. She had ambitions for their family, for their empire. And she knew that Y/N, with his intelligence and ruthlessness, would be the perfect partner in crime.

Y/N, however, had his own plans. He knew that he couldn't allow Yujin to control his destiny. He had to find a way to assert his independence, to carve his own path, even within the confines of their arranged marriage.

The road ahead would be fraught with danger, betrayal, and love. Y/N and Yujin, two powerful forces, were destined to clash, to collide, and ultimately, to change each other forever.

The honeymoon phase was short-lived. Back in Seoul, the reality of their arranged marriage settled in. Yujin, ever the manipulator, began to weave her web of deceit. She played the loving wife, the doting partner, but her true intentions were far more sinister. She saw Y/N as a means to an end, a tool to further her family's power and influence.

Y/N, meanwhile, was struggling to reconcile his feelings. He was drawn to Yujin's intensity, her intelligence, and her unwavering belief in him. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something, that her love was conditional.

Their lives became a constant battle of wills. Yujin, with her cunning and ruthlessness, would scheme and plot, always one step ahead. Y/N, on the other hand, was a man of honor and integrity, a stark contrast to the world of deceit and corruption that surrounded him.

As their marriage deepened, so did the darkness that consumed them. Yujin's obsession with control grew, and she would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. She manipulated situations, sowed discord, and even resorted to violence to maintain her power.

Y/N, caught in her web, was forced to make difficult choices. He had to balance his loyalty to his family with his love for Yujin. He had to navigate the treacherous waters of the underworld, where trust was a rare commodity and betrayal was the norm.

One fateful night, a devastating event shattered their fragile peace. A rival mafia family, seeking revenge, attacked Y/N and Yujin. The attack was brutal, leaving Y/N severely injured and Yujin traumatized. The incident exposed the harsh realities of their world, the constant threat of violence and death.

As Y/N recovered, he began to see Yujin in a new light. He realized that her love was not unconditional, but rather a tool to achieve her own goals. The facade of their perfect marriage began to crumble, revealing the cracks beneath the surface.

Y/N, determined to break free from Yujin's clutches, started to fight back. He used his intelligence and cunning to outmaneuver her, to expose her true colors. He formed alliances, made deals, and played the game of power.

The conflict between Y/N and Yujin escalated, leading to a series of dangerous encounters. They fought for control, for love, and for survival. In the end, it was Y/N who emerged victorious, but at a great cost. He had lost his innocence, his trust, and a part of himself.

Yujin, defeated and broken, was forced to confront the consequences of her actions. She had lost everything she had worked for, her love, her power, and her sense of self. As she watched Y/N walk away, she realized the true meaning of loss and the emptiness of a life built on deceit.

The tension between Y/N and Yujin had reached a boiling point. Their once passionate love had morphed into a toxic obsession, a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Each encounter was a battleground, their words sharp daggers, their actions calculated and ruthless.

"You're a monster, Yujin," Y/N hissed, his voice laced with anger and betrayal. "A manipulative, heartless creature."

Yujin, unfazed, met his gaze. "And you, Y/N, are a fool. A pawn in a game you don't understand."

Their arguments escalated into physical confrontations, their love turning into a destructive force. Y/N, driven by a desperate need to break free, resorted to drastic measures. He exposed her secrets, her lies, her manipulations.

Yujin, cornered and desperate, retaliated with a ferocity that shocked even herself. She unleashed a torrent of pain, using his vulnerabilities against him. She toyed with his emotions, pushing him to the brink of madness.

Their love had become a twisted, dangerous game, a dance with death. They were both victims and perpetrators, caught in a cycle of destruction.

One fateful night, their conflict reached its climax. A confrontation, fueled by rage and despair, led to a tragic accident. The consequences were devastating. Y/N was forced to make a heart-wrenching decision, a choice that would forever haunt him.

As he walked away, leaving Yujin behind, he felt a profound sense of loss. He had lost his innocence, his trust, and a part of his soul. The love he had once cherished had turned into a toxic obsession, a destructive force that had consumed him.

Yujin, left alone, was consumed by regret and despair. She had lost everything she had ever wanted, her love, her power, and her sense of self. The emptiness she felt was overwhelming, a void that would never be filled.

As she watched Y/N disappear into the night, she realized the true cost of her obsession. The love she had craved had turned into a nightmare, a haunting reminder of the destructive power of desire.

The aftermath of their confrontation left an indelible mark on both Y/N and Yujin. The love they once shared had been shattered, replaced by a toxic mix of anger, resentment, and a lingering desire.

Y/N, though scarred by the experience, had managed to break free from Yujin's grasp. He had found solace in his work, immersing himself in his studies and building a new life. But deep down, a part of him still yearned for the woman he once loved.

Yujin, on the other hand, was a prisoner of her own obsession. She had lost everything she had worked for, her love, her power, and her sense of self. The emptiness she felt was overwhelming, a void that consumed her every waking moment.

As time passed, Yujin began to realize the true nature of her feelings for Y/N. The love she had once dismissed as a mere game had evolved into a deep, all-consuming desire. She yearned for his touch, his voice, his presence.

One day, fate intervened. A chance encounter brought them face to face, their eyes locking in a silent battle of wills. The tension between them was palpable, a mix of love, hate, and longing.

"I'm sorry," Yujin whispered, her voice barely audible. "I was wrong."

Y/N, surprised by her confession, hesitated. "What do you want, Yujin?"

"I want you," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I want us."

Y/N was torn. He knew that Yujin was capable of great harm, but he couldn't deny the love he still felt for her. He knew that their relationship was a dangerous gamble, but he was willing to take the risk.

They embarked on a journey of healing and redemption, a path fraught with challenges and setbacks. They had to confront the demons of their past, the pain, the betrayal, and the broken promises.

But through it all, their love endured. It was a love forged in fire, a love that had survived the test of time and the trials of adversity. They learned to trust each other, to be honest, and to forgive.

Their love story was a testament to the enduring power of human connection, a reminder that even the darkest of hearts can find redemption.

[abilouwrites]

THE BEFORE, AND THE AFTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

1

Ive spent my entire life wanting to help people, to be a good person in the eyes of my parents. Although I never developed a quirk I did develop a love for medicine, something I’ve studied for and spent the last five years working towards.

There’s been no time for relationships; much to my mother’s disapproval. I’m twenty six and still desperate to have her approval, to be loved in her eyes. It’s four in the morning when I meet him first, a man stuffed onto a stretcher. Blood leaking into his crimson eyes, his skin taught and muscles tensed against the pain of his arm.

Short gasps escape his lips as I walk up to him, listening to the EMTs read me his BP and injuries- although it’s easy to see his arm is broken and he’s concussed. A little woozy as I give him a sedative something other nurses/ doctors used to keep him calm. And knowing his explosive past I’m not surprised, “page neuro and tell them it’s urgent and also ortho” I request from the other nurses as the ER doctors begin taking over and I go back to my station by the desk. It’s how it goes; I step in and observe until they’re wheeled up to the room.

Before my shift ends I stroll past my section one last time, popping in to see if the hero had awoken, which he had. Groggily staring me down as I tinker around with his IV now that he’s awake, “the hell?” He grunts stiffly trying to sit up, “get off me ya damn loser”

“You were in an accident, broken arm and a mild concussion.. uh nurse Hadley said your mother was on her way” I explain; very typical standard things in this section of the hospital. Celebrity recover area. And it’s common in any area where emergency contacts are called in.

“Damn witch is gonna blow this place up” he scoffs, sitting up with a heavy groan and I walk out; only coming back with a pillow in hand.

“I’m sure she’s not that bad” I say sympathetically as I tuck the pillow behind his head, “she’s probably a very sweet lady”

“Yeah for a woman in her seventies still trying to beat the shit out of me” he swears closing his eyes and using his free hand to rub his eyes and scratch at the stubble on his chin. I can’t help but laugh, “im not joking, sometimes she’s crazy”

I nod, listening to him as I check his chart, “so are you a doctor or somethin?” He asks looking over at me.

“No, I wish.. I went into nursing” I explain, I pick my bag up from where I’d set it down.

“You should’ve been a doctor.. are you leaving?” He asks, looking over at me to where I’m nodding.

“I’ve been here for 24 hours” I remark, still eager to get out of this place, "but I'm back after tomorrow"

He nods slowly, a thin line of sweat creasing his forehead. As I walk out I set the aircon on for him.

“I’ll see you then” he smiles, which is strange coming from the most hotheaded hero in Japan.

[dracopias-bloodbag]

Bewitched By Bloodlust | Dracopia x F! Reader | IV

Chapter IV: The Scars Inside You

The day after your bloodstained tarot reading, you wake having to face the reality of your situation– of your future and your fate. The realization that no one is coming for you sets in and sends you spiraling with no one around to help pick up the pieces... or so you think.

chapter content: 3.8k words. 18+, enemies to lovers, slow(ish) burn, eventual smut, kidnapping, imprisonment, brief passive suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, mental breakdowns, toxic family dynamics, trauma, hurt/comfort, canon divergent (see masterlist for details)

Recommended Listening:

Cirice – Ghost

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Masterlist ☽𖤐☾ Read on Ao3

After you lose consciousness, Copia is left staring at the bloodied card in his hand.

He’s warring with himself, a part of him is tempted to toss it aside, leave you there and forget about the reading. He’s bound to live a lonely, immortal, life. And though it had taken him some three hundred years to accept it, he had made his peace with his fate. He doesn’t need a deck of cards to tell him his fate.

But being centuries old he has come across witches and psychic readers before. He knows how revered the tarot is to people all over the world, and he knows that when done by the right person, these readings can be terrifyingly accurate.

He looks down at your limp form in his arms, his eyes scanning over your face. What he said was true. Prior to the night in the forest, there had been whispers amongst the ministry’s advisors of a coven of witches that was planning on trying to kill their beloved Papa. They had rushed to inform Sister Imperator that there was a witch amongst their ranks being trained for the task. 

When the news had reached Copia, his interest was immediately piqued. Any time he hunted for blood, he usually ventured into a local town in search of yet another creep who was testing someone’s boundaries, but it attracted too much attention for The Clergy’s liking. In the more recent years he had stuck to feeding from volunteers in the ministry, but he had grown bored. The thought of hunting someone who was hunting him made a shiver run up his spine. It fucking thrilled him.

Copia spent the summer months observing you, having found your coven easily in the middle of the forest. He had expected you to be older, wiser, more experienced– the last thing he was expecting was someone as young as you.

He watched from the shadows for months as you trained with the other witches. They put you through the motions, making you train in the summer heat, testing your endurance, testing your ability to hold your own. And yet despite everything they threw at you, you were determined. Your body moved with ease when you sparred with the other witches; you learned to dodge various types of attacks and how to use your opponent’s strength against them. You were quick, he gave you that, and that would make you interesting prey. 

He had chuckled at the notion; sure you would have made a formidable foe to a human man, but the coven underestimated his strength.

Sometimes late at night he would find you sitting on the porch of the cottage you shared with your covenmates; pouring over the ancient tomes you had been provided to study. You usually had your grimoire in hand, scribbling away as you wrote quickly, taking notes under the light of a single candle.

Other times he found you at a nearby stream, tucked away from your coven sitting on a rock with your tools spread out around you. Concocting potions and spells, burning herbs and candles anointed in oil as you muttered incantations under your breath. 

Most times he watched you, you were away from the rest of them. He couldn’t blame you, he didn’t miss the dirty looks they’d flash you, the whispered words amongst themselves. Unless you were doing spellwork they asked you to do for them, you mostly isolated yourself from them. Your loneliness was almost palpable, but you were resilient, he could see that much. You took your craft seriously, and he respected that about you. So much so that the thought of killing you after you had worked so hard to prepare had almost made him feel guilty.

Almost.

But you were a threat to the ministry and he had a duty to protect what he and his family had built, which is exactly what had led you both to this very moment.

Copia looks down at you again and in the low candlelight of the dungeon, your face looks peaceful. You are a true witch, both by blood and by practice. He can hear your heart beating steadily in your chest, your ancestors’ blood coursing through your veins and thrumming with their ancient power.

He moves you so that your legs aren't bent uncomfortably under you before pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket. He uses it to carefully wipe the blood from your chest, before wiping down the card and stacking it with the rest of the deck.

His mind wanders as he considers the reading, finding himself wishing he had spent at least a small fraction of his inhuman life branching out and learning more about the tarot. But the final card was self-explanatory enough. 

Copia sits and watches your chest rise and fall for what feels like hours as you lay unconscious in his arms, and he can’t escape the thought that enters his mind for a split second as he looks upon you. 

You were beautiful.

He freezes, shaking his head as if trying to physically shake the thought from his mind.

What is happening to him?

He clenches his jaw, an almost pained look in his eyes as he lays you down on the cot before carefully placing your deck of cards next to it. His eyes linger on your face before he turns and leaves your cell.

The first thing you hear when you wake is the sound of the birds chirping outside. You sit up, your eyes slowly adjusting to the sunlight that shines in through the tiny window.

There’s a platter of food at the cell door, and you stand on shaky legs trying not to lose your balance. The only thing on your iron-deficient mind is getting some kind of sustenance, and you spend a few minutes in blissful ignorance of the events of the night before. But as your body slowly regains its strength you begin to come to your senses, and the memories of the night before begin flooding back.

He had fed off of you again– you knew that much. Your hand trails up to your chest as you remember the feeling of your blood dripping down it, but there’s nothing there.

Your eyes land on your tarot deck stacked neatly next to the foot of your cot, and you can feel the anxiety rising in your chest as the memories come flooding back.

Eight of Swords, The Tower…. The Lovers. Sheer panic shoots through you, like a white-hot iron being shoved through your system.

You had hallucinated it. 

There was no way he had actually done that, there was no way you had actually done a fucking tarot reading while he fed off of you.

You were going mad, surely that had to be the answer… 

But deep in your gut you knew– it was all real.

Shaking your head, you reach for your cards.

They had been wrong before. Readings weren’t always accurate, the future is never set in stone.

Surely you were off your game, you didn’t choose with your intuition. It was in the heat of the moment, he was drinking your blood for Lucifer’s sake, surely that had something to do with it. Something was off. The cards had to be wrong.

You make quick work of preparing the cards, knocking on the back of them, and shuffling them the way you always do. Your hands are sweating, but you take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself.

Focus. 

You trust your instincts and stop shuffling the cards when the time feels right. You carefully cut the deck into three equal stacks, laying them out carefully in front of you.

Focus.

You stare at the stacks in front of you for a long moment, before trusting your instincts and choosing the one that seems to be calling out to you.

You carefully take a card from the top of the stack focusing only on your future, shutting your eyes as you draw the card, gently laying it out, before cracking one eye open.

No.

The card is laid out in front of you like it’s taunting you. The Lovers… again. You stare back at it, your mouth agape as you try to wrap your head around what the hell is happening. It was unmistakable, the young naked couple on the card seemed to be smirking up at you, and you felt your heart sink.

You shake your head, grasping the cards in your hand roughly as you begin to shuffle them once more. Preparing yourself to do the reading again��

This time you spread them out, laying them out in front of you in a fan shape. You trace your fingers over the cards, before stopping when you feel it’s right. You draw the card and…

The Lovers. Again.

You grunt, angrily grabbing the cards and shuffling them again, making sure to be as thorough as you can. This time, when you’re done shuffling, you grab the first card that’s on the top of the deck.

What the fuck?!

You shuffle the cards again.

And again.

And again.

Every single time without fail, you pull the same card.

You throw the cards across the room from you, and the sound of them scattering across the stone is the only thing you can hear aside from your labored breaths. You’re angry that you failed, you hate that goddamn Satanic pope that’s holding you here, and you hate that your dagger is gone. Because if you had it right now and he walked through the door, you’re certain you’d be able to kill him this time.

Fisting your fingers in your hair, you slump against the wall, tugging on the strands as you shut your eyes.

You hate him.

You hate him…

But if you hate him so much, then why were you left breathless anytime he touched you? Why did you wake up after every encounter with your mind flooded with thoughts of only him?

Again– you were going mad.

You want to kill him just for the effect he has on you.

But in this moment all you can think about is how he would pin you to the wall, his body against yours, his gloved hands holding you in place as he drank from you. Your mind swims with the memory of the feeling of his breath on your skin, and the way his gaze always bore into yours– his mismatched eyes seeming to look directly into your soul. His grip on you was always firm, but held a gentleness to it at the same time as if he was holding himself back from crushing you.

You shut your eyes, trying to push away the thoughts as you wonder why he has such an effect on you, but as you inhale, you swear you can still smell his cologne on you, and you can’t help the soft sigh that escapes you.

Oh.

Oh.

You were going to fucking die.

You need to get out of here, away from this godforsaken abbey, away from whatever path the universe seems to have put you on.

You needed to find a way out, but you were out of options, with no visitors showing themselves aside from Copia himself and the occasional ghoul. And the chances of escaping either of them were little to none. A part of you was still holding out hope that someone from your coven would come looking for you– it would be your only chance at escape.

The more time passes the more you feel that hope slowly beginning to slip away. You had spent months training for this, and yet you still had failed. You thought back to when your High Priestess had called upon you to inform you of your sacred task. She had assured you that you were the strongest witch for the task. You remembered how excited you were to finally be recognized for your talents, rather than used for them and pushed around by the other witches.

Yet thinking back on it you realize how ill-prepared you truly were. How no one had even considered that the fucker would be wearing gloves. How they trained you to use his strength against him despite the fact that he was stronger than any human could possibly hope to be. How you were told there would likely only be a couple of Ghouls patrolling the area, not eight of them.

Maybe their lack of a plan would have been understandable if they truly believed you would be successful, or if you had died trying. But you had failed at both.

But they had failed you by sending you here without a rescue plan. Memories of hushed whispers between coven members as they watched you prepare to leave flashed across your mind. You had caught the way they laughed amongst themselves, eyeing you like you meant nothing to them. Like they were praying for your demise.

They had never expected you to return, in fact, they were probably counting on it.

Tears well up in your eyes at the thought. 

You are completely alone, and you have always been alone…

You can’t help the tiny sob that escapes you as the realization washes over you, and you sink down to your knees as you finally let yourself feel all of your emotions. There’s a weight on your chest that you can’t shake off, and you feel like you’re being suffocated as your breaths become ragged and uneven in between sobs. Your hands find the cold stone floor as you bow your head, your hair falling around your face as your tears fall to the floor.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts, that you don’t even hear the door down the hall opening. You don’t even realize that Copia is watching you from the darkness.

He had noticed it as soon as he entered, the scent of your saltwater tears hung heavy in the air, the sound of your sobs and rapid breaths filling his ears. By the time he’s in front of your cell you’re damn near hyperventilating.

He freezes, not sure what to do. He was so used to keeping up the cruel facade, to being the one who made you shudder underneath him and made your heart race.

So why did it bother him to see you like this?

He doesn’t think twice, and his body moves almost as if on instinct as he unlocks the door.

You don’t know he’s there until his hands are on you. You practically jump out of your skin, trying to shuffle away from him as a scream threatens to worm its way out of your throat. He cups his hand over your mouth and holds you gently in place with his other hand.

“Shhhh…” Copia whispers. His eyes scan your face carefully. Your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are red and puffy from crying. He releases his hold on your mouth before bringing his gloved fingers to cup your chin. His grip is firm but there is something gentle about the way he holds it. Your knees are now pulled up to your chest in a fetal position, and for some reason he feels his heart wrench at how helpless you look.

“Breathe…” He murmurs. “Deep breaths strega, don’t pass out on me again.”

Your head is fuzzy as you try to make sense of his words, of what he’s doing. You can’t fathom why he’s being so kind to you but you’re so deprived of oxygen at this point that you listen, taking a deep, slow inhale before exhaling.

“That’s it, just like that…” He pauses, his eyes lingering on the tears streaking on your cheeks. “Non piangere...” 

The words are foreign to your ears, but the way he says them, it’s almost gentle. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was worried.

“I don’t– what the hell are you doing?” You snap as you try to wrench yourself free of his grasp. But his grip remains firm and he holds you in place.

“Tranquilla...” He murmurs, as his hand slowly trails up your cheek.

Copia isn’t even sure why he’s doing this, he doesn’t fully understand it but something in him is screaming at him to comfort you. 

You want to shove him away, you want to scream at him and tell him to leave you alone to rot in this cell for the rest of time. But the pit in your stomach is gnawing at you, and you feel another sob rising in your chest. The feeling of his hand on your cheek is the only thing keeping you from completely spiraling.

“Please, just kill me.” You whisper into the darkness.

His grip on your face tightens slightly, his jaw clenching.

“No one has ever wanted me around, I’m a failure. You should just take my life and be done with it, then I won’t be a burden to anyone anymore.”

His heart breaks at your words. It was one thing for him to want to kill you out of instinct, and his duty to protect The Ministry, but to hear you wish those things about yourself made his stomach churn. No one deserves that.

He rubs his thumb over your cheekbone and wipes away your tears. It’s odd, he’s different, you can tell something has changed by the way he’s touching you. You realize then that your captor is showing you more kindness than your entire coven ever did, and that thought alone makes your chest feel tighter.

“Why are you crying?” His voice is soft, almost as if he’s afraid of scaring you away.

“Why do you care?” You try to snap at him, but your voice falters and cracks as you look at him with your glassy eyes.

He hesitates at your question, unsure of what to say, he opens his mouth to answer but you cut him off with a sigh, too mentally exhausted to fight anymore.

“I just– I keep wondering if my coven will send for me, or if they’re even looking for me. But I know they’re not. I’ve lived with them as long as I can remember, and yet I’m realizing I’ve somehow still been alone all my life.”

He watches you carefully waiting for you to continue, and when your eyes meet his you realize that he’s actually listening to you. The fact that he seems to care, or is at least pretending to is strangely comforting.

“You were right, you know? They may have raised me, yet they never treated me as anything more than a servant. They forced me to do the most taxing spells, I would practice the darkest magic for them until my energy was drained and I had to sleep for days to regain it; and I did it all without questioning them.”

Copia looks at you for a long moment, before slowly reaching out and taking your hand in his, and you swear you stop breathing at the contact. 

“They used you.”

“Yes, I suppose they did. I kept telling myself they were just testing me, and that one day they’d treat me as one of their equals.” You take a shaky breath. “I was actually excited when they sent me on this quest. I figured this was it. If I succeeded, they would finally see my worth. I kept thinking that maybe then they would treat me with respect.  But it’s like they knew I would fail, it was just a way for them to get rid of me for good.”

He’s silent for a moment, his eyes focused on the way your hand fits in his– how your soft skin is a sharp contrast to the rough leather of his gloves.

“Mi dispiace– eh, I’m sorry, strega.” His apology is fully unexpected, and you stare up at him in shock in the dim light.

“Are you seriously apologizing for…  not letting me kill you?” 

“I suppose I am,” The corners of his lips twitch, and for the first time you think you see the beginnings of a smile on his face. 

He releases your hand from his grasp and gently cups your cheek. 

“I truly am sorry, cara. They used you for your talents, for your wisdom, and you did not deserve that.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “The world is cruel and unfair, and there will always be individuals who will try to take advantage of that.”

You can’t help but narrow your eyes at that

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Copia is taken aback by your words, his hand dropping from its place on your cheek as an unfamiliar feeling washes over him, gnawing at the pit of his stomach. It takes a second before he realizes that it’s guilt.

“I’m sorry, Goddess help me, I need to learn to shut up.” You mutter under your breath, trying to backtrack before you piss him off again.

Only he’s not mad, instead he just looks at you with a combination of guilt and shame in his eyes.

“No, you are right, strega. I’m no better than them.” 

He surprises you when he stands up, and your eyes widen slightly as you watch him cross the room to the cell door and unlock it, before stepping back. 

“You are free to go.”

Your eyes flicker between him, the door, then back at him.

“You’re joking.”

He shakes his head. “I, eh, wouldn’t joke about this kind of thing, it would be cruel, no?”

Your eyes remain fixed on him as you slowly stand and walk towards him, your steps cautious, as if you’re waiting for him to lunge at you, but he never does.

“When you get down the hall one of my most trusted ghouls will escort you out of the abbey and back to the forest. So long as you swear to leave us be, we won’t follow you”

You hear his words but your feet won’t move, but you feel like there’s something holding you back, and for some reason, the thought of leaving makes your stomach churn. Where would you even go? 

Copia senses your hesitation. “What’s wrong, cara?”

“I don’t want to go back to my coven, and if I don’t go back to them I have no one.” 

Copia ponders for a second, his eyes wandering over your form as he feels that unfamiliar feeling in his chest again. His mind wanders back to the tarot reading, to the taste of your blood on his tongue, the way your body felt when it was pressed up against his, how your heart raced anytime he had his hands on you, to the way you had curled into his arms while you cried, almost as if it was second nature. He knew exactly what was happening to him; whether it scared him or excited him, he wasn’t sure. But he was sure of one thing;

He wanted you– needed you. His eyes seem to darken as he steps towards you, holding his hand out to you; the words leaving his lips before he can stop them or second guess himself.

“Then stay with me.”

Thank you as always for reading, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it! All I can say about this one is.... oh boy we're really in it now...

Comments, kudos, and reblogs are always appreciated! ‪‪❤︎

Translations:

strega/streghetta –witch

non piangere – don't cry

traquilla – calm down

mi dispiace – I'm sorry

cara – darling

[kismutt]

( jonathan daviss. twenty4. cis man. he/him. ) thank god you’re here, man - have you seen CYRUS BOSTICK anywhere? i totally lost them after their rendition of house song by searows last night. no? they’re like, aye - high and go to PALLADIAN - i think they’re a SENIOR studying FOREIGN LANGUAGES (LATIN, WELSH, GAELIC)? but who knows, these days. all i know is that they’re POSH, DEBONAIR and a CAPRICORN . last night they kept going on and on about how they won LEAST LIKELY TO BENEFIT OFF THEIR NEPOTISM last year, which is cool and whatever, but i just wouldn’t expect it out of them, considering they’re so, like, COMPETITIVE AND SHREWD, you know? anyways - i’m going to check down by wickham-on-heath park and beach, i think that’s where they like to hang. text me if you see them, okay? bye! / as penned by alli. twenty5. cst.

DID YOU WANT TO BE SOMETHING MORE ... 

cw:  divorce tw,  neglect tw

profile.

full name — griffin cyril 'cyrus’ bostick iv 

nickname(s) — cyrus, literally he’s just cyrus

place of birth — cardiff, wales

date of birth & age — december 24 & twenty four

gender / pronouns — cis man & he / him

major — foreign languages with specializations in latin, welsh, and gaelic

university — palladian

languages — fluently: english, welsh, scottish & irish gaelic; conversationally: french, portuguese, spanish; reading only: latin, arabic

astrology — capricorn

residence — holland hall, suite 4.

interests — horses/equestrian riding, animals, the ocean, surfing and swimming, tennis, poker, history and anthropology, classic novels, red and white wine, champaign, wales, languages, math, travelling

aversions — rosé wine, being underdressed, frugal spending, his dad, golf, opera, pickles, football (all kinds), planes, silence

notable features — preference for luxury and subtly, how straight he stands so he can claim that yes he is 6 feet how did you notice? i’ve been told since i was young i have a really tall aura, so yeah, obsessively clean hairline, like bi weekly touchups, smells faintly of leather

general disposition —  posh, sophisticated, gluttonous, chivalrous, debonair, competitive, shrewd, self-serious, jealous

character study — tybalt and romeo ( romeo and juliet ) & macbeth ( macbeth ) & henry winter and francis abernathy ( the secret history ) & kendall roy ( succession ) & oberyn martell ( game of thrones ) & robin swift ( babel ) every rich guy asshole mean dad stereotype ever

history.

in cardiff, cyrus had his mother, he had his brother, he had his horses and the estate. returning each summer to the lifeless frame of his father’s hamptons home, his only company the often frantic hunting dogs his father kept plenty of, was more than a bother. cyrus was never quite sure of his father’s job. his halfbrother often teased that griffin cyril bostick the third was an mi6 agent, like the bond films that filled their childhoods, but cyrus wasn’t convinced. he spent enough time with the man to know he wasn’t capable of much bravery, even if he understood the draw to corruption. 

kept tucked away from the city, cyrus’s world was small in america.

as long as the bostick’s had held property in america, rumors of succumbing to the ‘karmic resolution of their immense greed’ spread like plague down the bloodline. his mother had instilled this in him young, but the draw to luxury must be sincerely genetic, because though he tried to resist, cyrus grew particular with age. 

he has a preference for the thread count in his sheets (over one thousand), the brand of bag he stows his bridles in (longchamp), the type of car his father rents for him (german). his mother did little to temper his desires. why should she feel bound to discipline when his father stole so much time from her? she could afford to buy cyrus the catalogues he would produce before her, so she would. 

cyrus also demonstrated an impressive intelligence very early on. he is incredibly adapt at picking up languages, and spent his youth picking up every local language he could get his hands on. village children, vacationers in the hamptons, local immigrants, cyrus was fond of bothering them all until they gave up the keys to a new language to him. the most he allows himself to hope for, beyond retiring to a horse ranch, is opening an international branch of his father’s investment firm. so he studied, and studies, relentlessly. 

this is not to say that cyrus grew up without joy, or with much strife back in europe. his mother was a constant lighthouse, if not prone to treating him, sometimes, with more reluctance than his brother. if she says no to cyrus, will she lose him to his father? and is it right to deny him something good, when he has to go away again come summer? 

cyrus isn’t one to answer that question. for his own part, his world is relatively small. while he loves social events, company, parties, chatter – he has trouble opening up much. he can be attention-seeking, a product of his father’s cold shoulder. he can be manipulative, a product of his father’s modeling clay. 

context.

he has a small hoard of animals he attributes to being owned by his .. ‘lordship..’ lol. with the exception of his favorite riding horse, teddy – government name superted, after his favorite (welsh) childhood cartoon – these animals live at the family estate. wallace the sheep dog, bronwyn the barn cat, and rupert the retired race horse. 

he wants to be the best at everything he does. competitive because he is a child of neglect oh…. everyone play a violin for him actually it is sad. but he needs to work on it he will push over a child in an easter egg hunt type beat. and he does not celebrate easter, but there is $20 in one of those eggs. does money even mean anything to him, you ask? well. you’re being rude. 

he is intense. he is dramatic. he has a fragile ego that he will happily admit he needs stroked. he’s a simp. he’s a douche bag. he’s your father’s worst nightmare and your mother’s best daydream. he contains multitudes. we all do. 

he hates the monarchy, he hates the american government, he’s honestly pretty anarchist considering how comfortable in the upper echelon he is as well. like i said. we all contain multitudes (unethical things we like).

wanted.

group of beautiful people – anyone else in the chat kind of shallow and vain and love pretending to be better than everyone? anyone else love being expensive and dramatic and like television if it was real life? let’s link.

exes. – any gender cyrus is an open opportunity clubhouse. he probably cheated. he thinks he wants monogamy because he wants to prove his dad wrong but. who is going to tell him. he’s toxic asf. 

tutors/students – he is really freakishly good at languages!! let him tutor you!! he is really crazy bad at history and science! it makes him so mad and he needs these grades to be perfect so please help him.

student government – i feel like cyrus would do this. anyone who runs against him. anyone who is also into student government. anyone who wants to rule the world and go out for drinks and pretend to know more about the world than other people. pretentious – hey. i am not a tory - cyrus. yes he thinks he’s doing it in a les mis way. no he will not admit he’s seen les mis.

horse girls – he’s on the equestrian riding team at palladian… his horse, teddy, lives here in the stables and everything. maybe your muse works in the stables or also has a horse here or etc etc. he plays polo, too. yes he’s annoying. 

rumor mill. – cyrus will start a rumor for you and he will spread it like wildfire. i do feel like he kind of knows everyone to an extent. he’s good at memorizing names. he remembers that thing you said to him at a party when you were really, really drunk. he won’t tell anyone. as long as u tell him something else he CAN tell someone.

etc….. i am so down for whatever. they mean in our thread and we go based on chem?? yes. i love. cyrus fits a wc?? beautiful. anything else…. childhood friends? family friends? american (hamptons) friends? drama.

[tacobacoyeet]

Hi Ava!

I'm a new fan (diya put me on) but I regularly enjoy your writing. Every time I get tagged in one of your fics get so excited and they actually got me through some really stressful times recently. I'm so so so happy that you got 400 followers and I can't wait to support you while you get the 4 billion more that you deserve😌. Seriously, you are an incredible writer and I'm just so happy to be here :)

Gender Preference: Male

Fandom Preference: Any that you write for :)

Abt me:

I’m Indian and my Tamil heritage is something I am super proud of. 

I’m super super super driven to succeed in life (lowk a trauma response but whatevs) and people who slack for no reason piss me off.

I’m studying poli sci and law and I’m incredibly passionate about justice.

I WILL NOT DEAL WITH A MAN’S BULLSHIT. I WILL MAKE MY OPINIONS KNOWN.

Im super extroverted

I love fantasy books and im like the #1 ASOIAF (book series GOT is based on) fan in the world

I have a lot of traditionally male interests like sports but i'm still pretty girly and I love makeup and clothes

I love cooking and food is one of my favorite things in life

I love the finer things like nice restaurants and designer clothes but i WILL go to town on greasy fast food in the same jacket ive had since seventh grade. 

There is nothing in the world i hate more than a man who makes you his whole life. I need someone who actually has their own life yk?

 im just a silly gal and I love to laugh like 90% of my time awake is spent laughing. 

okay first of all... don't look. i'm crying. this is so sweet, thank you SO much. and of course thank you diya! now, hear me out...

i ship you with patrick zweig!

you probably met because he made some fuckass out of pocket comment about how he loves 'ethnic girls'

but you're immediately clocking his shit

and you expect him to get all mad and what-not but he actually... apologizes? and you educate him?

and that ends up blossoming until... bam! that's your man!

you two do a lot of flirt-fighting so you're always challenging each other and pushing each other to be better

you're always each other's first choice for that 1am taco bell trip (because it's the height of desi cuisine, duh)

and whenever you're at his matches and whatnot you're loud AF in the crowd and that man is OBSESSED. probably misses a point or two because he's just all like yay yippee!

and whenever you can't be at his matches... it's fine. he's still in love with you. and you're still in love with him. and nothing is wrong, because you both know you'd probably go fucking crazy if you spent every last second together

buttt of course whenever you are together and you're supposed to be sleeping neither of you can because you're both laughing your asses of at the stupidest tiktoks and whatever awful jokes you're trading back and forth

yay patrick!

[ceasarslegion]

Ive made my stance on oppenheimer discourse very clear but one detail of it that really bothers me is the "movies about sad white men are always bad" attitude, and i didnt really know why until i was able to sit down and parse it out.

Here's the thing. I have a film degree, I've spent more time in movie theaters than I have sleeping and I've easily seen more films and shows than all of my peers combined. Which isn't a flex btw, I'm a little hermit who prefers the warm embrace of a cinema seat to human connection and is the most annoying mfer imaginable during family movie night; don't be like me.

But I know hollywood, I know cinema history, and I know the legitimate frustration this attitude comes from. Hollywood doesn't like to take risks, they have to historically be dragged kicking and screaming into any territory that isn't a guaranteed profit, which usually means that we get periods of stagnation where every film is the same goddamn formula over and over again until audiences get sick of it and stop buying tickets en masse. Hollywood also tends to reflect the dominant culture and the sociopolitical issues of the time, but not SOOO much that you'd rock the boat. As an exec, you wanna hit that sweet spot where audiences relate to your films without them being so blatant that they'd cause them to question things that weren't acceptable to question. Noir was a picture-perfect example of that.

And in the modern day, that DOES tend to translate into the weird genre of Sad White Man Who Regrets Killing Foreigners movies. Like American Sniper. But I've seen American Sniper, so I can speak on how lowkey disturbing I found it, and the history it's based in and the goals it had as an art piece were to make you sympathize with a system of corruption. And here's my unpopular opinion: if done RIGHT, those films still have a place within the cinematic sphere of influence, like if you made a film exploring the psyche and experiences of what leads a man to willingly participate in a system like that, but that's not really what it was.

Now let's move onto Oppenheimer and other films like it. I don't think these films are at ALL equivalent to films like American Sniper, even if they follow a sad white man who regrets killing foreigners. You are looking at the bare bones surface level of it and assuming its contents both real world and dramatized and judging it based on that instead of the, well, actual film.

One of the biggest differences here is that Oppenheimer WAS an important historical figure just, objectively. Even removing all western racial influence from the equation, you can not look me in the eyes and tell me that the man who invented the atomic bomb in the middle of the largest world war of modern history was not an important historical figure. If you try to make THAT argument just based on the sad white man-ness of him, I'm sorry but your point is already moot, because it's not based in historical fact anymore but your own personal subjective feelings. He IS an important historical figure, he's not soldier number 648 in the middle of a massive battlefield who followed other peoples orders.

And also to be completely honest, you are a huge fucking liar if you try to claim that people like Dr. Oppenheimer are not interesting. Flawed people who make flawed decisions with complicated variables are what make for good fiction, so when one exists in the historical record, of course they are going to interest people. They are going to be studied and interviewed if they're still alive and have their entire lives and every word they said picked apart and analyzed because they are interesting. You are straight up lying if you try to act like these people arent interesting enough on their own to have media made about them, regardless of what identity they had that fits into the opposing side of the 21st centure culture wars. This attitude reminds me a lot of the people who claim that the only reason anybody could find true crime interesting is because they MUST want to fuck jeffrey dahmer or whatever. The argument just doesnt hold up because all it takes is one person going "thats not what i find interesting about them" to collapse that entire absolutist argument.

So yes, hollywood absolutely has a racism and war glorification issue. But I take issue when these accusations are just made blindly against any historical dramatization based on nothing but the poster. If you're going to talk about hollywoods sad white men issue, at least make sure the films youre citing actually fit that bill AND that you actually understand whats WRONG with those sad white men movies, because its not just the presence of a sad white male protagonist, its a conglomerate of various sociopolitical issues that must be present within those characters and what they represent.

[alpinelogy]

eating my own words here i fear (died for your sins (died for you)

ask me about my wips

So first of all, this is a cycling fic. Yes. I am eating my own words here because I in fact have a conk crete cycling rpf fic (for those not in the know, ive spent the past year and a half swearing up and down that I am never writing a cycling rpf fic, that I watch cycling like a white man in his fifties too much. lol and lmao)

Anyway, this is more or less my Adam/Tadej thesis. A character study masked as a relationship study masked as a fic sort of fic. Starts right after Col de la Loze (aka in July 2023) and will end around the end of Giro 2024 (aka May 2024) so like... almost a year to cover okay?

Minor brief and nuance-less context cause I know most people here do not know cycling (sad :(((). Cycling is more or less about the specialest guy and the specialest guy has guys around him that help him. Kinda like what people want first-second driver to be but actually real. Tadej is the specialest guy in his team, Adam has been one of his main help guys (domestiques. They are called domestiques) since he joined the team in 2023.

Col de la Loze is a hill in France and the 17th stage of the 2023 Tour de France finished shortly after reaching the summit. Its a very awful ugly climb and in 2023 Tadej basically failed here, had a massive metaphorical crash, Adam got told to at least try for the stage win but couldnt get it. Apparently after the end of the stage, Tadej apologized.

So consider this. You have the leader guy who is less experienced and apologizes for what he sees as a failure, vs a guy who is more experienced but also is very much not the guy in charge and now they try to reconcile that dynamic.

Add in the fact that Tadej in general comes off very happy go lucky, there is a thousand and one jokes about Tadej the entirety of the 2024 being very yay yippe another wonderful day of cycling with my friends when its actually the most gruelling stage known to mankind. But he can also very much suffer, he is just a human and despite his happy persona he also does experience negative feelings. Combine these two things and you got a very interesting guy.

And Adam is... well he is by all means a good cyclist, UAE can be a little bit of a messy team at times and when Tadej won Tour in 2020 it was unexpected, but by the time Adam joins in 2023 they are a well established team, they are not dominant, thank you Jumbo-Visma, but they are genuinely good. And Adam walked into the whole super-domestique thing. That was always what he was signing up for. Like it was very clear that Tadej is the main guy. Adam is good and I would love to see him be a leader for a Grand Tour at some point, but he has very much walked into a super domestique role willingly.

So its sort of about the push and pull of it all, how much Tadej needs Adams help, how much is Tadej willing to ask for, how much Adam thinks Tadej needs his help, how much he is willing to offer without feeling like hes belittling Tadej or getting in his way. It's Tadej who is the leader, Adam knew when he signed the contract, but how is he supposed to approach the whole I am more experienced bit. Reconciling those two points is really hard actually turns out.

I have like 700 words of plot written mostly contained in out of context sentences, so barely anything, but that is more or less what it is about. You cannot get this dynamic anywhere else in sports I fear.

Also Marc Soler keeps accidentally catching strays in Adams internal narration for no reason other than cause he was the first domestique I remembered that was in UAE at least since 2023. Sorry Marc I just needed another guy and you were the first one I remembered

[lapdogchase]

long vent post abt covid + my sister

i genuinely dont know when the last time my little sister wasnt sick for more than two weeks was. im trying to remember but i cant . its been almost constant since she got covid in dec2021. and she has all these new allergies and symptoms and stuff she had as a baby came back after. and my parents are like antivax antimask "its just a cold" conspiracy theorists and they arent going to protect her they only got her her mandatory vaccines bc our doctor finally made them and theyre convinced shes always sick bc of the vaccines and not bc of covid. and i know theres nothing i can say or do that will get through to them. and i know my sister doesnt understand Why shes sick all the time so of course shes going to believe our parents because shes a kid why wouldnt she believe them. and i know eventually she'll figure out why shes so sick. when long covid gets talked about more when i figure out how to explain it to her etc eventually she'll find out and it's going to like. ruin her view of our parents and the world at large

and i spent my whole childhood since the day she was born making it like my lifes mission to keep her safe but i had no hope of protecting her against this there was no way i could have done much but my parents could have and should have and now they blame it all on the vaccines its because the doctor gave her vaccines no it isnt!!! no it is not!!! and every time i see her or facetime her or she sends me an audio message i hear the crackle in her throat and i dont know if it will ever go away

and if youre not looking for it youll miss it but if you go in public and sit and listen .youll hear the coughing and sniffling and the crackle in people's throats. i keep my windows open bc my dorm gets too hot and all day i hear people walking by and coughing. my only other covid cautious friend has noticed it. none of my non cc friends have. but i swear to god it's there sit in a library for a few hours and listen it's there it gets worse every year. and nobody even notices and people look at you weird when you mention that everyone's been getting sicker recently

but they are they fucking are ive read the studies ive looked at the data. everyone's sick all the time and they dont even notice it they go "it's the freshman flu" "it's allergies" you arent even a freshman you dont even have allergies. "man ive just been so short of breath recently" then i'm the crazy one if i say the obvious reason for that. i feel fucking crazy i know im not im looking at the studies im looking at the data im learning the science but nobody will listen

i share covid data and protection and everything on instagram all the time im always talking about it because im always thinking about it because i hear it everywhere and nobody listens nobody is masking and i dont understand why i dont understand how - i heard someone cough out my window just now - i don't understand how social pressure can win over the objective truth when the objective truth is killing and disabling people. how do people not care??? i need people to care one-way masking is better than nothing but so much could have been prevented if people would just put on the fucking mask

what am i even supposed to do when everyone's just accepted being sick forever when people dont 'even notice how fucked up their bodies are becoming when people seem to think it could never happen to them and they don't seem to care that they can and will pass it to other people even if they never are symptomatic . how are we supposed to live like this??? are we going to reach a breaking point or are people just going to fucking die forever??? what will it take for people to start masking again??? to start caring???

i dont know what infection number my sister is on. three that i know of for sure but i'd be shocked if she hadn't had it at least five times. shes thirteen . i dont know what to do

[sxddekarios]

Invisible String: Ch 1

Jump forward two months to a therapy session between Aspen and Dr. Silverbough, aka Halsin.

AO3

“Why in the Hells did you bring me back?” Aspen asked her therapist for the third time that week. It had been two months of this – two months of laying in the medical ward, multiple sessions with Dr. Silverbough each day, and not a clue of why she was alive. One day, she thought, he had to answer. Not only why, but how.

Dr. Silverbough, or Halsin as he told her to call him, let out one of the deep sighs Aspen had become familiar with over two months of spending most waking hours with the man. It was odd how he always sighed, but never yelled. He was remarkably kind, though she knew it couldn’t last.

“I suppose it’s time I tell you more,” he said. Not that he had told her anything. She appreciated that they had solely focused on her and the two years of torture she went through before it was so, so close to being over. But she was still annoyed that he couldn’t let it be over. She knew it had to be in the realm of magic, but she had no idea what happened.

She should’ve died. She might’ve died. Did he make a deal with a devil? Did the universe have more sick torture in store for her, even after nearly every bone in her body had been shattered while she hung bound and conscious?

“I know you’ve went through an indescribable amount of pain in your life, much of that being in the past few months.” Dr. Silverbough held Aspen’s gaze with an unnerving amount of what appeared to be empathy. “I know you will continue to live through this pain and its effects, and I’m truly sorry for that. It’s why I’m here for you every step of the way, but I know nothing will ever erase your experiences.”

The therapist continued. “That being said, I also have a few hundred years of experience with the threads of life. I know you weren’t going to die despite the blood loss and organ failure you experienced. I don’t know what was keeping you in an eternal limbo – but I knew I had to bring you back to stop the incessant pain that plagued you as you waited for a death that would never come.”

“So, that’s why I brought you here.” He meant Blackstaff Academy, where Aspen had resided for the past 2 months. Not that she had seen anything outside of the medical ward. She knew it made sense with him being a professor (and now her personal therapist) at the academy. But she didn’t know how he got her body to mend.

Dr. Silverbough clasped his hands in his lap. “I have a friend – a vampire – that turned you. He fed from the small amount of blood still coming from your neck, and we spent a week transferring his blood along with a plethora of alchemical remedies to you via IV.” He paused for a moment to let her take it in. Shock flickered across her face as she wondered if she was now a vampire.

Would she have to live forever? Please, please, please don’t let that be my fate, she thought.

“Normally we wouldn’t turn someone like this, but it was the only way to save you. I know we forced this choice on you, and you have every right to be upset with us. We didn’t see another choice though, besides condemning you to suffer.” His deep yet gentle voice carried on while Aspen’s head swarmed with questions.

She had a hell of a lot of questions, but one took precedence. “Now what?” She asked. “What am I supposed to do now?” With her entire life?

“Whatever you like,” he answered seriously. Seriously unhelpful, too. “I’d like if you stay at the academy. All you need to focus on is healing as much as you can. The rest is up to you. You can live here, you can study here, you can find joy here. You don’t need to worry about finances or what you’re ‘doing’ with your life.”

“I promise you,” Dr. Silverbough emphasized, “the academy will always support you and provide for you. This is a home for students, and having brought you here myself, I can assure you that your life is taken care of in bureaucratic terms. Even with our –” he stopped himself for a moment as his eyes flickered red.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “Headmaster, my friends and I at the academy will make sure you always have a safe space. No matter what happens here, or what you choose to do with your life.”        

What the fuck was up with the headmaster? Aspen figured she’d find out soon enough if she decided to study there. Which she really, really wanted. She had only ever known herself in two ways – being owned by another person, and excelling in academia. She had nothing outside of that.

She was sure that her therapist would help her try to find other things to fill her life with, but it couldn’t hurt to start with the most stable thing she’d ever had. She tried to calm her anxieties about the future. Hope had never been on her side, but neither had a shapeshifting professor/therapist.

Hopefully, he meant what he said.

[she-karev]

A Day in Hell (Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev Angst Imagine)

Previous Part

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Five of Six

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Pairing: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 2

AN: I wanted to do a story to showcase the hardships health care workers faced when covid hit. The doctors and nurses put our health first during a worldwide crisis and we should be forever grateful for that even without a pandemic to prove what should always be known.

Summary: Amber goes to gather Ian’s belongings in the basement where she runs into Andrew who tries to apologize for the breakup wanting to get back together with her.

Words: 1671

Chapter Links Here: 1,2,3,4,5,6

April 2nd, 2020

After her shift ended at midnight, Amber decided to do the impossible and find Ian Talbert’s belongings. Before his death he entrusted her with his deceased daughter’s military necklace stating he had no one to give it to.

While she was resistant at first, she knew it would make Ian feel better before his timely death. After helping out at the check in stand in the lobby she decided to go to the room where they held all the covid patient’s belongings after their death.

The rules are they can’t be released to the family until after the crisis, but Amber didn’t want Olivia Talbert’s last possession to rot inside a bag on a shelf. If she did, she was fairly certain Ian would haunt her from beyond the grave.

With that image in her head, she is determined to find the bag, clean the necklace and wear it around her neck. A part of her hopes that some of Olivia’s fighting spirit can come to her and help her get past this terrible time they are all in.

Amber walks down the hall in the basement numbly and stands outside the room where they store old hospital equipment. And now abandoned items from the deceased. She stands outside for a moment in her scrubs, N95 mask and face shield dreading what is on the other side of the door. The young Karev takes a deep breath before gathering the courage to turn the knob, open the door and flick the light switch on.

Instead of defunct bypass machines or broken IV poles the room is filled wall to wall with shelves. And those shelves are holding plastic bags that are filled with clothes and other items left behind by their large number of deceased patients.

Amber looks at the shelves and, in that moment, wonders when her life came to this. Years of medical training and studying led to her finding a bag of her dead patients’ items in a sea of other dead patients’ items. She steps forward and silently looks around but knows she needs to read the tags on the bags to see which one was Ian’s. The time-consuming task ahead of her causes her to look up at the ceiling and close her eyes.

Normally a person would cry when face to face with death and despair, but Amber used up all her tears after Ian died. She spent 10 minutes sitting by his bedside and crying next to his dead body regretful of what little she could do for the man who unfairly contracted covid after a life of pain and grief. Instead, she closes her eyes and tries to imagine a world they used to have, one that wasn’t as sorrowful as it is now.

“Hey.” Amber’s thought train stops at the familiar voice. She turns around to find her ex-boyfriend, Andrew DeLuca standing six feet behind her in his navy-blue scrubs, N95 and face shield.

Another day Amber would tear at him for getting a job as her attending at the hospital she works at so soon after he broke up with her, kicked her out and ignored her calls when he left. But now she just wants to find the bag and go home without so much as acknowledging his existence.

She does so when she walks toward a shelf and reads the tags on the bags that aren’t organized in any way. Andrew looks at Amber in sympathy and tries to find the right words to say in this situation.

“I uh I didn’t know you’d be here.” Andrew says truthfully to Amber who ignores him, “I came down here to get Kayden’s stuff. He was the kid that came in with the burns from the car explosion. He died and…it didn’t feel right to have his parents wait to get their sons last possession. So, I came down here to try to find them. What about you?”

Amber stops moving and exhales at the agony but speaks, “Patient of mine, Ian Talbert, he died two hours ago.”

Andrew closes his eyes, “I treated him his first day…I liked him. He told me the odds of my rent skyrocketing with the economy right now. I gave him the whiteboards so he can have something to do. How are you?”

Amber stops moving and faces her ex with a blank look, “I don’t know how to answer that.”

DeLuca nods knowing the feeling as well. Amber exhales in relief at finding the bag, “I found Ian’s stuff you can have the room to yourself. Shut the lights on your way out.”

“Amber…” She stops and faces him fully six feet away with the bag in her hand, “I left you a voicemail last week.”

“Yeah, I know.” Amber responds numbly, “I listened to it…you said you wanted to talk so talk.”

Andrew sighs and starts, “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much and I know you’re angry and you have every single right to be, but I want to fix this. I want you home with me and I want you in my life I need you in my life.”

“Do you remember what I told you the day you came back for Webber?” Andrew looks down in shame as she continues, “I told you that if you got help and begged for my forgiveness you weren’t gonna get it because you ruined us, you ruined me. And now you think you can just show up and I’ll move back like everything’s okay? Like you didn’t drive a stake through my heart?!”

“I know I can’t make it right and I know I said a lot of awful things, but they weren’t true. It was the mania and I know I made it worse when I ignored you but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you, I still love you.”

Amber’s face is filled with rage for the man she once loved, “You destroyed me. You don’t destroy people that you love I learned that from watching my father beat the crap out of my mother. My father who you said I would end up like when I was trying to help you. My mother who you compared me to when you had frostbite and kicked me out of our home!”  

Andrew stops at the harsh recounts by Amber of what the mania made him do and how much it hurt her, “You must really think I’m like my mother because going back to a man who made her life hell is exactly what she did with my father even after he put her in the ICU.”

Andrew sighs and tries again, “I know I messed up; I know I scared you and I know I said a lot of things I am never gonna be able to take back and I am sorry. I’m sorry, I love you, I am in love with you and that has never changed. I am doing the work and I promise you if you give me a chance, I will do everything I can to make us right.”

“Make us right?” Amber asks in disbelief, “How do you right pushing me away when I was trying to help you? Or saying I am exactly like my parents who abused and neglected me? Or how about throwing the moment my brother tried to kill me to my face because you knew it would hurt me and it did!”

Andrew shakes his head chastising himself for screwing his relationship up so badly, “I’m sorry I’m so sorry I am an idiot. I am such an idiot, I am a jerk, I should’ve listened to you months ago I know that I know I messed up. I thought I was above this, and I didn’t want to admit there was something wrong, but I did, and I am working on it. I’m trying to make up for what I did and who I hurt and all that matters to me right now is you and me-”

“You and me?” Amber asks disdainfully, “There is no you and me, you kicked me out, you left me.”

“And I came back.”

“You came back because you saw a new case to obsess over not because of me, it is never about me because you didn’t care about me enough to call me back after you had a mental breakdown and dropped the face of the earth!”

Andrew sighs in despair, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!” Amber tells him in anger, and he stops, “You can’t fix this with a sorry and I don’t want to fix this!”

Amber inhales and tries to keep herself from crying again, “You were the only person, the only one who didn’t call me crazy or made me feel worthless. You said I was crazy like my mom, and you made me feel worthless when you kicked me out of that apartment like garbage.”

Andrew looks down in shame knowing he can’t mend that with a hundred sorry’s. Amber makes that clear as she continues.

“And you did it so easily like that’s how you really felt about me for two years. There’s no going back there is no apology that can make me forget the past year of hell I wasted begging you to get help. You hurt me and you can’t undo that, and you can’t expect me to take you back because it’s what my mother did with my father, and I am not gonna repeat that!”

Andrew’s guilt worsens with his ex-girlfriend comparing them to her parent’s horrible marriage. He knows by then that when her parents are brought up there is no going back.

“I’m glad you’re getting help I am.” Amber says truthfully, “But there is no going back to the way things were, you made sure of that.”

Amber walks around Andrew and exits the room leaving him heartbroken over the end of their relationship in a room where grief is at it’s highest.

Next Chapter Here

[electricpurrs]

man i really CAN'T draw all of a sudden. i Made a drawing a few days ago but now my hands feel like jelly and my mind is blank. which is a bad time cause Again i am running out of money cause i never have enough for some goddamn reason. i don't want to take more commissions i really don't specially cause i don't want to delay things and make people wait but what am i supposed to Do. and everything happening in my life and my cat is hurt and i spent a whole day thinking she might have been dead and i need to buy her medicine and wet food and im stressed all the time and i have college stuff to study and i barely have energy to get out of bed each morning. ive been oversleeping so much and im still so tired. i dont know how im passing as a functional human being at this point

[wewerebornsextuplets]

what are your ocs’ favorite activities :P

ohhh this is a good one!! once again because im very long winded this will be under the cut but i hope i explain myself well o7

starting with kiru, she honestly... she kind of has old man tastes when it comes to hobbies and the like HAHA. ive mentioned it briefly before, but shes very much a self described "bad cinephile" in that she loves to watch bad movies specifically to tear them apart and complain. of course if a movie genuinely interests her because it looks Good she will still see it, but if you gave her the choice she would choose the garbage every time.

aside from her moviegoing, though, she's really enjoyed card games + other tabletop games [i.e dominoes] since she was a kid, mostly owed to the fact that her paternal grandparents taught her how to play + that ended up being how she spent most of her time with her dad once he got too sick to keep up with the typical energy level that playtime entails for a 7 year old. while she does get laughed at for these seemingly dated tastes on occasion, its also kind of a win because old man activities are perfect if your best friend is coming straight from the showa era.

that said, fiber arts and sewing are examples of interests that Have stuck with her; her taste in clothing is a bit... eccentric outside of work, and she often cant find exactly what she's looking for in your average clothing store, but she's also not willing to spend $75 for a shirt that'll disintegrate after 3 washes. so, she likes to alter and sometimes even make her own clothes! she'll sometimes make clothes for kiru and ippei as well, but whether or not they actually Wear it is... a different story.

for the sake of the prompt, im not gonna include artwork/drawing in keiko's section since thats her side hustle/kind of a job

she's certainly less geriatric in her hobbies, but much more difficult to pin down; shes very fiercely motivated, but if she loses interest she loses interest QUICK. as such she goes through hobbies very fast, and leaves a trail of unfinished projects and studies behind her. polyglots shudder to think about the amount of languages she studied for three months and then gave up on.

and speaking of ippei! this was kind of answered in the previous question but hes very much a video game nerd, which is really his biggest interest and activity across the board. that said as part of the game dev hustle hes aspiring for, he also intends to produce his own music and is trying to teach himself music theory to... varying results. its an uphill battle but hes made some decent stuff. he spends more time dicking around and making silly songs for pre-made beats than anything else [kind of like the works of silly stu if youre familiar.]

and, of course, all three can take solace in one common activity: bothering kabosu.