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wearysparrows · 28 days ago

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I (Almost) Shot You Down

Summary: A chance encounter with Sylus snowballs something much larger, and you're pushed even deeper into the depths of his world -- whether you like it or not.

Chapter 1: A pillar of Salt

After being forced on leave from the Hunter's Association, you try to find respite outside of the safety of your apartment. By chance, you see Sylus engaged with someone else. You nearly take his head for it -- but he gets his way, in the end.

CW (18+): Sylus/reader, no use of ' Y/N,' Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Guns, MC is chronically depressed and exhausted, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood and Violence, Drug Use, Gambling, Reader is MC, AFAB reader is implied but no pronouns are used

A/N: This is my long, ongoing work that is still being updated. There are many more chapters up on ao3, and I'm working on getting them to tumblr. They're also being edited and improved from their original postings, so if you've read it before, there may be some changes as I upload!

You had finally begrudgingly accepted a few days off from your work with the Hunter’s Association, at the behest of your primary care physician (citing your declining physical health), your boss (citing your declining work performance), and your work partner (citing your declining mental health). The aforementioned meddlers had teamed up in an effort to finally tear you away from hunting, and would not allow you to return, despite your valiant attempts at protest. Work was your escape – from yourself, from the reality of your life, from your relationships – and everything in between. Hunting never changed, and you only got better at it.

Your blatant disregard for yourself had failed to continue to go unnoticed by those who cared about you, though. Now, here you were, sitting in your empty apartment with only the all encompassing silence to keep you company. Left alone with your thoughts. Again. You hadn’t bothered to kick the lights on. Only the sound of the heater clicking filled the otherwise empty air around you. Your mind went where it always did, then. That day. No bodies were ever recovered. You didn’t even have something to bury. Caleb’s dog tags had found their way into your hands at some point, and you gazed at them listlessly in your palm. You could still feel the heat from the residual fires of the explosion radiating off of the metal. The warmth of his hand in yours. It was all you had left to prove he ever really existed.

You desperately needed to get out of the house. Anything was better than being here, and perhaps you would accidentally run into some wanderers while the ghost of you made its way about Linkon city. Throwing yourself at hordes of wanderers was the only coping mechanism that had shown any signs of taking your mind off of things. Sort of. With this scheme in mind, you quickly dressed yourself in your usual, strapping your gun to your thigh, concealing its comforting weight under your coat. It wasn’t like you were on forced bedrest, so a walk wouldn’t hurt, right? You stashed Caleb’s tags in your nightstand drawer, returning them to their safe place. You imagined that someday, they’d burn a hole in that wood, and you’d come back to nothing at all.

You left your apartment with no particular aim in mind, being sure to lock the door behind you. The biometric lock shifted into place with a soft whirr behind you. You may have been utterly exhausted, but you were never complacent. The weather outside wasn’t ideal for a walk, and the wind buffeted your hair about your face, and bit at your skin, as if you were offending it with your mere presence outside. Your eyes watered, protesting the assaults by the air. You opted to ignore these sensations, and continued to walk in what you thought was the direction of the nearby shopping district. Your appetite had long since left you – months ago now – but you knew you could find a small measure of pleasure in a cup of coffee on a day like today.

After many twists and turns, your weary feet led you to an area you weren’t wholly familiar with. Maybe it was new? This was more upscale than your usual, you realized – your Hunter’s salary was decent enough, but definitely not this decent. Cobblestone that looked suspiciously new made the click of your boot-heels echo loudly off of your surroundings. You scrutinized the buildings before you, searching for somewhere that your presence would not offend, where you could also acquire what you were after. Everything was just a touch too upscale, too unwelcoming. All of the storefronts blurred into one image, one place where you weren’t welcomed. You chased thoughts from that same morning out of your mind that threatened to break through as you were forced into a moment of mental silence, and the still of the air and the lack of bustle kept returning you to reality. The last place you wanted to be.

After a time of aimless searching, you spied a place that looked acceptable. It was smaller than the other establishments, tucked away conservatively into an alley, lit by warm sconces along either side. Unlike the other buildings, it was painted in a warm, sandy beige. You couldn't tell much else about it from the outside, other than that the interior was dimly lit. The imagery of the cup of coffee on the signage was enough to guide your way. You pulled open the heavy glass door, and half expected it to be partially empty on the inside, but you had no such luck. It was bustling, but warm as a result, and you realized how cold you had been before you had stepped in. The change in temperature almost immediately made you feel too hot in your coat.

The patronage was definitely outside of your tax bracket. The patronage was clad in an array of expensive looking furs and fabrics, all speaking to each other in the lowest of dulcet tones. You felt their eyes on you, but disregarded them. It wasn’t as if you weren’t allowed to be here, regardless of how out of place you may have looked. Which, you thought, wasn’t that much. You might not have been born into high snob-society, but you took good care of your looks. Your fingers were still moving slowly in protest to the inclement weather as you fished your wallet from your coat pocket, stepping towards the counter with the intention to order. You hardly glanced at the menu. You didn’t even have a drink in mind. Just something as a distraction. Liquid, hot enough to burn your tongue. A sensation to chase the thoughts away.

This course of action was quickly interrupted, however. In your periphery, you caught a glimpse of a shock of white hair on someone who seemed to tower over the rest of the people in the room, even while sitting. Clad in blacks and velvet reds, he both fit in perfectly and stood out starkly all at once. He was talking to someone else you couldn't see in a hushed tone.

Sylus?

Surely not. Why would he even be here, of all places? Sure, it was nice, but not places-Sylus-frequented nice. Or at least, the places you imagined he frequented. You still didn’t have a full idea of all of the things Sylus did with his free time. Short of that, what was he doing cavorting about in Linkon in public? Your eyes bored holes into the back of his head, trying to catch wind of what could have possibly brought him to a place like this. You side stepped into a corner table that allowed you to get a better look at who he was speaking with.

A woman?

This clearly wasn’t just any woman, either. A cascade of elaborately curled blonde hair fell down her back in elegant waves, and a deep red dress clung to her like a second skin, outlining her perfectly against Sylus’s dark form. A small nose, and full lips. Long, dark lashes. She was saying something to him, but you couldn’t make out the words in the den of the conversations from the other patrons. He laughed in response to her words, and leaned closer to her. She was smiling at him, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. Her other hand touched his shoulder.

Stones stacked neatly in your stomach as you watched them. You felt like a voyeur. They looked exquisite together – it was undeniable. She was even wearing the perfect color of red. It looked as if she had exsanguinated someone and dyed the dress in their blood – a perfect match for Sylus. Everything else – everyone – in the room paled in comparison. Sylus was still smiling at her, full of charm. You thought about what Zayne had said to you before forcing you to take time off.

You look like you’re two steps away from death. Take a few days off.

Well, his observation was more astute than he realized, clearly. You certainly felt that way now, in light of the spectacle that was playing out before you. Maybe only one step away. Half a step. You told yourself this was none of your business, that you should just quietly take your leave before he noticed you had ever been here. There was no reason for him to take notice of you while he was attending to his private matters. You were just passing through his life. Brushing through his fingertips. Never actually touching him in any way that mattered. Physically, mentally, spiritually.

You decided you needed to leave. Urgently. Despite telling yourself staring down the couple wasn’t bothering you because there was nothing between you and Sylus anyway and what the hell was your problem, you had begun to feel nauseated. You clutched your arm about your midsection, and hurriedly peeled yourself out of your seat. Every one of your muscles protested at the movement, reminding you that you should be at home right now. On forced bedrest, probably.

That just wasn’t in the cards. You weren’t sure you had a hand to play at all. You silently cursed the great dealer in the sky.

You made a beeline for the door, but not before you took one final glance at Sylus and his companion. Even if you were to turn into a pillar of salt for looking back, you just needed one more glimpse. To satiate your curiosity. But luck wasn’t on your side (when was it ever?), because you met Sylus’s eye as you looked, as well as those of the beautiful woman. You saw surprise pass over his features, and thought you saw his lips part as if he were going to say something. The woman peered back at you curiously. You cast your eyes away from the bewitching image before you.

You could feel all the water being sucked from each of the cells in your body, one by one. You would shrivel up on the spot, and leave behind only the base impression of yourself in the wake of your shame. Hopefully, your rotten yearning soul would be freed to roam elsewhere, far from here, in this place you didn’t belong.

Ah, take me, O salt pillar!

There were no such mercies in this life, of course. You left the cafe as quickly as your feet would allow. The glass door slammed behind you. You were running now, for reasons you couldn’t (didn’t want to) quantify. It wasn’t as if he was chasing after you, coming to explain that no, she’s just a friend, just someone I work with, don't worry. Faster you went, the need to see the comforting outline of your apartment against the sky becoming more desperate by the moment. Fortunately, the run home was certainly shorter than the walk to the cafe, and the image you so desired to see appeared before you, blessedly.

Only then did you allow yourself a moment to rest. Your lungs screamed in protest at your outburst, and you sucked in great mouthfuls of air, trying to forcibly still your rapidly beating heart. It was always betraying you in one way or another, even now. You bent over, your hands on your knees, and took a moment to collect yourself. You were grateful no one had been around to see this display, from you leaving your apartment, to running away from a damn coffee shop empty-handed. You curled a fist in your hair, willing it out of your face as you righted yourself. A few stray strands came away in your fingers. That had been happening more and more often, as of late.

The walk up the stairs was nothing else if not excruciating, and you thanked even your unluckiest stars that Xaiver didn’t seem to be home from work yet to see the unfortunate events of your life play out as they were. You stumbled into your apartment – being sure to lock the door behind you, as always.

The safety of your home did good work to soothe your nerves, a stark contrast to the horrid occurrence in the cafe. You shrugged into something more comfortable: a camisole and a pair of soft, cotton pajama shorts. This set had yet to let you down in the comfort department. Even as you changed, the events played over and over through your mind, and you burned with the embarrassment of it all. Sylus’s smile at that woman, his laughter. The way his gaze had twisted into something else entirely when he saw you. Your nausea refused to calm. Your mouth kept filling with too much saliva, over and over.

Why did you have to run away, of all things? You had left like a petulant child who was unable to cope with the sight before them, instead retreating to your small corner of safety in the world.

Wry thoughts came to you. This is what I get for taking a day off. You knew you had been wrong to do so. Your prophecy was always fulfilling itself. Take that, Dr. Zayne.

Still, you were yet unwilling to heed the siren’s call of your bed, despite the increasing intensity of its song. You flopped onto the couch instead with a sigh, the air entering and leaving your lungs easier now. You longed to be rid of the image of Sylus entangled with someone else, and decided you needed to busy your hands with something to scrub the thoughts from your mind.

As a result of not taking nearly any days off lately, you were definitely behind on the maintenance of your weapons. It technically wasn’t work. It was only related to work. You bent over from your position on the couch, and peered underneath it. Here was where your smallest gun safe lived. Perhaps not the most ideal place for it – but it wasn’t as if you had company over often, anyway. Save for Xavier, your steady and ever-reliable partner. And more recently, Sylus, who you hadn’t yet found an accurate definition for. His presence was usually accentuated by some excuse to intrude on your space.

You unlocked the safe. It was an old-school version, not biometric like the newer models. Pure, vintage analog goodness. A gift from Grandma when you had entered the Hunter’s Association. It came open with a soft, satisfying click. Only two weapons were usually inside – your Hunter’s issue handgun, old faithful. You returned it to its rightful place, now, as it had dutifully attended the cafe fiasco with you. With it was a piece that had forced itself into your possession – or rather, Sylus had forced it into your possession. You eyed the offending object, picking it up gingerly and placing it on the coffee table in front of you. It was considerably heavier than your standard issue. It had thunked onto the glass of the table, as if it were moderately offended to be there. Did even his gifts take on aspects of his personality? His influence seemed to know no bounds, so nothing would surprise you at this point. He certainly had a penchant for creating objects with personalities, if Mephisto was any measure.

This gun wasn’t the only firearm Sylus had thrust upon you. A gift, he had said. You weren’t wholly unconvinced he wasn’t using your house as his millionth-whatever-armory. You had accrued so many weapons that you had to acquire a secondary safe, the hulking mass of which sat in your bedroom forebodingly. It held all of the other “gifts” inside, tucked safely away in the darkness, waiting to be used for their dark purpose. You hid it underneath a spare sheet. The second safe was another gift from Sylus. It reminded you of him, in a way – it imposed its presence in your house: tall, cold, stark, and white. It didn’t fit here at all. And it was full of things meant to rend flesh from flesh, flesh from bone. Life from this plane into the next. You thought about the first time you met Sylus, and how he had obliterated a man from existence before your eyes with his evol. There hadn’t been so much as an ounce of recognition in his eyes for the life he had taken. The memory made your nausea threaten to return to you.

Your eyes came back into focus on the gun in front of you. You liked guns, and as much as you hated to admit it, this one was no exception. It was a beautiful article – a faithful reproduction of a vintage Colt 1911. A classic, by anyone’s measure. It was a forty-five caliber, with an eight-plus-one round capacity. The recoil of your Hunter’s association issue paled into comparison to this, and it affected your accuracy negatively. You had recently replaced its bullets – standard full metal jackets – with hollow point rounds. Higher accuracy, higher damage. You planned to test this on the next Wanderer who was unlucky enough to be at the other end of your barrel. Or the next man. Those had only recently come into your sights, as a result of your exploits – at the request of Sylus. He had never actually asked you to gun a living person down, though. You weren’t sure you were even capable of doing so. Or if he would ask.

The wood grip was custom engraved with your name, and encrusted with jewels, courtesy of him. Naturally. The body was scrubbed of any serial number. Naturally.

Ugh.

You placed it on your knees, with the intention to take it apart to clean and maintain it. You intended to add a suppressor, which you had purchased with your own money. Not a gift from Sylus. Small victories.

Just as you began to take the weapon apart, you caught a sound. There was a sort of shuffling at your door, as if someone were standing behind it. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, prickling. Your intuition told you that whatever was behind it was something to be feared. You loaded the spare magazine of hollow points into the piece with a soft click. You flicked the safety off. Your hands had already begun to sweat.

You pointed the gun at the door. It was too heavy in your hands.

Whoever was behind the door was making quick work of the lock, despite it necessitating your biometric data to unlatch.

What if it was the same people who had taken the lives of Caleb and Gran? Had they finally had enough of this game of cat and mouse, and come for you?

You held your breath to steady yourself. The extension of Sylus’s violence wavered back and forth in your grip. The door came open at a painfully slow pace, and a large figure in black slipped through. You cocked back the hammer, which had previously given you difficulty. Now adrenaline bolstered even the strength in your fingertips, any previous weakness forgotten. The figure turned, closing the door behind him. Upon seeing you on your makeshift gunner’s perch on the back of the couch, he raised his hands in surrender, showing you the calloused tan of his palms. One of his hands was nearly the size of your head.

“Sylus?”

His eyebrows had initially shot up in surprise at your current posture, but he quickly relaxed his face into that of his usual mask of easy confidence. You hated that about him, his composure. You adored it, too. He couldn’t even bother to look afraid at the end of a gun. The gun he gave you. You exhaled the breath you had been holding through your nose.

“Expecting someone else?”

He sounded pleased, of all things. You suddenly felt very exposed, in nothing but your camisole and shorts. Despite the gun in your hands, it was as if you were at the other end of his. Your head felt hot. Your forearms began to protest at the weight of the weapon. You blinked new wetness into dry eyes.

“Why the fuck are you breaking into my house?”

You didn’t lower the gun. You didn’t want to. It wasn’t as if it was the first time you two had ended up like this. You, trying to kill him. Him, accepting your choice. Probably not the last, either. You were angry with him – not for breaking in, no. Not for his casual nonchalance in the face of death (could he even die?), not for his disregard for your poweress as an opponent. But for his date with someone else. Someone who was decidedly not you. The feeling bubbled up, stronger and stronger until it was burning you from the inside out. Shame accompanied it, hand in hand.

Of course, you had no real justification for this feeling. You and Sylus weren’t dating, as you needed to remind yourself more and more frequently. You weren’t even sure you could call your relationship friendly – it was somewhere in the bizarre stage of you wanting him, and him accepting your every move with grace. He took you for all you were in stride, met you for all your whims, and you trailed after his every word. You had something he wanted – what it was, you were never quite sure. It changed with his tides. You couldn’t pry it from him. Questions were only answered with more questions, so you had given up on asking them. Sylus’s response to your question cut through your thoughts. His voice was soft, imporing.

“You didn’t answer my texts or calls. I was knocking for a while, too, but there was no answer. With the way you left, I came to make sure.”

Make sure of what?

You hadn’t heard any knocking. You also hadn’t checked your phone.

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and they came in a slow, steady stream into your consciousness. You thought about the first time you had shot him. How his blood erupted from his chest in hot streams. It stained your hands as you tried desperately to stop his bleeding, pressing against the pulse of the open wound. When you thought you had taken his life. When he had pressed the trigger for you. When he didn’t die. The heat of him was still there, under your palms. It wouldn’t wash off. He was under your skin.

“I’m glad you like the gift, by the way.”

He took a step towards you as he spoke. You adjusted your grip. He was still in your sights. Your breath came quick, your mouth dry. You licked your lips, cracked from worrying your teeth on them so often lately. You thought about the woman and Sylus. Together. The red dress. Sylus’s blood. His laugh, for someone else. Not you.

“You’re welcome to take my life again,” he murmured soothingly, “But it might disturb the neighbors. Particularly the one downstairs. Of course, I’m willing to help you deal with the aftermath. Either way.”

He still had his hands raised in submission. The image of it was practically ridiculous. This wasn’t a posture that Sylus took up under any other circumstance. You knew it was all a show for your benefit, and that you were no match for him, despite your own prowess. Something about his unrelenting acceptance of his own death at your hands (again) dragged you out of your stupor by your achilles heel. You lowered the gun. Sylus took the opportunity to stride forward, and quickly slipped it from your hands with his own. You let him. His touch lingered just a moment too long, fingers pressed to yours. He was warm. Too warm for someone who had just been out in the cold. You resisted the urge to take his hand. His evol materialized, and quickly turned the safety on, ejecting the magazine. It returned the gun to the safe, shutting it away as if it had never happened. The red cloud disappeared as quickly as it came, as if it never were at all. The process took no more than a few seconds of silence between the two of you.

“You were going to modify it?” He asked, nonchalant. As if you hadn’t just been almost making an attempt on his life. He glanced at the suppressor, now cold and lonely on the coffee table.

“Yeah. I was going to...add a suppressor.”

You could hear the flat affect in your voice. It reflected how drained you were beginning to feel by all of this, on top of everything else. Your shoulders sagged under the weight of it.

What the fuck was this conversation, actually?

Sylus nodded, still managing to look pleased with the situation. You felt your life force actively draining from you as the seconds ticked by, as if you were the one who had almost been shot. His gaze shackled you in place, still. The sterling of his hair and the garnet of his eyes were just as enticing as ever. Radically out of place in your modest apartment.

“Can I help you down?”

His soft inquiry brought to your attention that you were still perched with one foot up on the back of the couch, poised to kill him. Your hands were now very much without the gun. Nothing connected you to the world below you concretely, anymore. Except him. He was standing before you with an offered hand. At some point during your conversation, he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing the rippling capability of the muscle of his forearms. It enticed you without voice. You took his outstretched hand, wordlessly. To your surprise, he pulled you over the back of the couch and towards him, catching you like you were nothing, his free hand supporting your waist. You landed softly on your feet in front of him, still in his arms, hand in his own. For a moment, the posture reminded you of how you had danced with him at the auction. You looked up at him, he down at you. His expression was inscrutable, save for a little smile. You were close enough to see the soft sweep of his eyelashes. The circles under his eyes. Proud nose and soft lips. You pulled away, hugging your arms to yourself. It was much colder for his lack of touch. His hands hovered at the place where he had held for a moment, and then fell back to his sides.

“What has you so wound up? I tried to call out to you this morning, but you bolted before I could greet you.”

Sylus had his head cocked at you now, as if the answer you had for him was something very simple. He adjusted one of his sleeve garters. You averted your gaze, studying a now very interesting speck of dust on your floor. You wanted to put all of this behind you, to forget it had ever happened. You would have never brought it up had he never shown his face. But he had to be here, asking questions. Making you lie to him even more than you already did. You had never been a liar until you spent time with him. You tried to keep your tone level as you spoke.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your date.”

Even saying it made your insides crawl. You spat the last word out with more venom that you had intended. Your lower intestine was trying to creep up to your diaphragm, and seemed to be succeeding. Sylus raised an eyebrow in your direction.

“Date?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. The movement made his biceps all the more prominent. He sounded puzzled, and was scrutinizing you, now. You couldn’t comprehend what was so hard to understand about all of this. You sighed, despite your best attempts to keep your emotions from bleeding through your cracks.

“Yes, date. What would you have me do? Come up and introduce myself while you’re clearly in the middle of something?”

You were aware you were completely out of line here. None of this was any of your concern in the first place. You had stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. Sylus had, quite literally, no obligation to you whatsoever. Certainly not to explain himself, or who he chose to spend his time with. You wanted to shrink and disappear into the floorboards. Perhaps you could seep through the cracks like smoke, and escape this confrontation all together. But you didn’t have that kind of power – unless Sylus was with you, holding you in his arms.

He had been quiet for a time. He started again.

“The woman I was with today is one of my contacts in Linkon. She helps me smuggle things in and out when I can’t attend to them personally. I’ve been working on...procuring something. For you.” He cleared his throat a little, as if he had just told you an embarrassing secret.

You gawked at him. He was still smiling at you. His eyes met yours. Seeing everything you didn’t want him to see. He didn’t even need to use the protocore in his right eye. It was all bared to him, regardless.

“And yes,” he continued,

“I would have been very pleased to introduce you. You only let me show you off every so often – I wanted to seize the opportunity by the horns.”

There were too many things you didn’t understand. How he could move about Linkon so nonchalantly. How he could be having conversations about smuggling in an upscale Linkon cafe. How the man before you, who gained all of his income from untold numbers of criminal activities, was the same who willingly spent his free time with you playing Kitty Cards and screwing around in the arcade. It was too much. You turned from him, and instead returned to the safety of the couch. You sat on it, grounding yourself with the feeling of your own belongings. You heard him follow after you. His shoes were still on, but you didn’t have the heart to scold him for his disregard for your floor's cleanliness. He sat next to you. The couch sunk under his greater weight, and caused you to slip a little closer to him on the furniture.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Sylus.”

It was all you could say. Better to keep the respectable distance between you just as it was. Any further and you wouldn't be able to keep up this facade around him anymore. He kept pulling at your threads, trying to reveal your insides.

“No one owes anyone anything. But I wanted to tell you. Besides,” you felt his evol touch your hand, ever so gently. It was as if he was holding it without actually holding it. The little red extension of himself curled around your fingers playfully. You remembered how it had choked and shackled you in the past. Now it sat in your lap like a beloved pet, curling about your knees and fingertips. It’s usual crackling intensity was gone, now only a light, pleasant buzz against your skin. You focused on the sensation. It was warm, like him.

"Here I was, excited to think that you were going to shoot me because you thought you saw me out with someone else. I’m a little disappointed that wasn’t the reason.”

He was chuckling, like what just occurred had amused him. Something to spice up the usual banal repetition of his everyday life. You felt yourself deflating. There was no more hot air left inside – just the residual exhaustion, both emotionally and physically. You found yourself wishing, again, that you hadn’t taken a day off. If you hadn’t, Sylus wouldn’t have broken into your apartment to explain he wasn’t out with someone else. To you. The person he was also decidedly Not With. You fiddled with his evol in your lap. You had been around him often enough to know this teasing was his way of trying to cheer you up – to take your mind somewhere else besides exhausted and angry and I want to leave this plane of existence.

“I’ll be sure to follow through with it next time.”

There was no real bite to your words – to your ears, you only sounded exactly as you felt. Like you were threatening the man you had feelings for who did not return them, yet still refused to leave you alone. A plaything for his own amusements. Sylus merely nodded. His evol had since made its way to the drawstrings of your shorts, and it was tying them in various intricate knots, there. You wondered at it. It seemed to have a mind of its own – but you were certain that this, too, was another idle whim of his.

“I’m looking forward to it, then.”

His statement was quiet, nearly a sigh of pleasure. The back of your neck and ears burned in tandem. You examined the knots that were now likely forever tied into your poor drawstring.

What the fuck kind of knots even were these?

You pointedly ignored the minor arousal that threatened to arise at this.

“There’s something wrong with your brain. Seriously.”

“It takes a thief to catch a thief, my dove.” You could hear the smile in his words as he spoke.

“You have a few days off, right?” He was rolling the previously abandoned suppressor around in his fingers, examining it. You swore he had somehow gotten closer to you on the small couch – with the way his legs were spread, his knee was just barely touching yours.

“Yeah. Wait, how did you know?”

He ignored your question. As he almost always did, as it suited him. Instead, he responded with another question of his own.

“Why don’t you come back with me to the N109 zone? You can rest there, instead of here. Or, we can go out. Whatever you’d like.”

You were about to deny him, but his voice took on a more serious tone as he continued to speak.

“This place is going to claim your life if you don’t leave it every once in a while.”

You look two steps away from death. Take a few days off.

Why was everyone in your life so thoroughly convinced of your impending collapse? Even your criminal mastermind was in on it. You scrunched Sylus’s evol up in your hands. It wiggled, protesting your treatment in your fingers, but not dissipating. You wondered if he could feel your touch through it. If he could feel it when he killed. Maybe you did need to leave – maybe this place was killing you. If it wasn’t Wanderers, it would be your own disregard for yourself. Maybe the air was forever tainted by the death of your family, and the miasma would never quite leave your lungs. Maybe running away was the best thing to do. Sylus was giving you an out – at least for a little while. Maybe there were strings attached. There had to be, without a shadow of a doubt. He was silent while you mulled it over. You expected him to comment on your lack of response, but he said nothing.

Irritatingly patient.

You sighed. You turned to Sylus.

“Fine. But I only have a few days. Give me a few minutes to pack my things.”

Sylus had the good grace to look surprised at how easily you had agreed to his suggestion, but it quickly turned into a look of barely concealed smug satisfaction. His evol vanished from your grip, and you found yourself missing its comforting touch.

“You technically don’t need to pack anything. I have everything you could possibly need at the base. Clothes, food, weapons, shampoo, conditioner…the kinds you like.” He trailed off. You couldn’t tell how serious he was being, what with the expression he was serving you. You shot him a look.

He raised his hands, showing you his palms, submitting once again.

“Like I said. Give me a minute to pack my things.”

Sylus leaned back on the couch, relenting. He dropped his hands.

True to your word, gathering your things for a trip to the N109 zone took little time at all. It wasn’t that you were particularly Spartan with your assets – but rather that Sylus really did keep all of the things you needed around, and much more. Knowing you could trust him on this front made warmth creep to your face, and the cold began to seep from your bones. After changing, you returned to the living room with your bag, where Sylus was patiently awaiting your return. He was peering out your window. The sun hit him just right, and it illuminated his eyes with its beams. The red only intensified in the light, the color of blood only just exposed to air. You could have stared at the image of him forever. He always claimed to be unlucky, but it seemed to you as if every aspect of the world bowed to him. For someone who was so weak to its rays, he was lit brilliantly by the sun. He turned to you, squinting. Your eyes fell to your gun, which was in his hands. You recalled that he had definitely returned it to the safe, previously. He waved it at you, careful not to point the barrel in your direction.

“Don’t forget this.”

He stood as he spoke, and stepped toward you. His form loomed over you, and you felt him slip the gun into your thigh holster (where you had planned to put your standard issue) underneath your coat.

Bastard.

His hand lingered on your hip before he put it in his coat pocket. He smelled good. He was wearing something today that you couldn’t quite place. His natural scent was there, too.

Rosemary? Figs? Cloves?

“Shall we?”

His voice cut through your mental musings on men’s fragrance notes. You nodded, following after him as he led you out of your apartment. You were sure to lock the door behind you. Again. His bike was waiting faithfully for you in the parking lot. Sylus slipped your helmet on for you (why did he even have a second helmet on him today in the first place?), making sure your hair was tucked neatly away behind your neck. After repeating the action on himself, he kicked the stand out from under his bike, and you got on behind him. You always had no choice but to wrap your arms around him when you rode. You wondered how it made him feel – or if he felt anything about the contact at all. His back was broad, solid, and warm underneath your touch. You swore you could feel his muscles ripple underneath you, even with the barrier of his clothing between you. You squeezed him a little tighter as he began to drive. Even through your jacket, the air nipped at you for your speed. As he pressed the bike harder, you felt something tickle around your waist. You peeked down as best you could through the visor of your helmet. Sylus’s evol was keeping you neatly attached to him, as if your arms weren’t enough. The inside of your helmet suddenly felt hotter. You tried not to think about why he did the things he did. Sylus offered no acknowledgement or explanation for any of this. As always.

The bike sped on to the N109 zone, eager to return to where it belonged.

#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #l&ds sylus #sylus love and deepspace

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kuramirocket · 6 months ago

Text

PROSHIPPERS BLOCK THESE PEOPLE.

They have been targeting Lacey non stop and looking up and listing all of her accounts even those outside of tumblr. And constantly false reporting and terminating all her accounts. They harrass and call proshippers pedophiles and draw “art” of killing proshippers. Particularly, bbjxencanto-blogger and blo0st4r. Here are all of their mutuals too to block.

NOTE: That not all these users have harrassed proshippers from what I know, but best to block them. Stay safe!

I have also gotten Lacey's permission to make this post. Lacey wished me to tag you guys to let u know about this post I made!! @the-proship-hellhole @mavericktangofoxtrot @broconpilled @wrencest

Also, please do not tag any of Lacey’s accounts for her own safety!

UPDATED: 01/13/25

Here is the list of people to block:

@bbjxencanto-blogger (They changed their username to a-can-of-canvis-paint)

@ilovepeachplssm (bbjxencanto-blogger's new account)

@peachesplsocs-blog

@masteryofieryjinksinnie (the side blog of a-can-of-canvis-paint)

@blo0st4r

@sprinklehere

@rainbowstarheart

@rainbowstar-heart

@rainbowandfriendsart

@rainbowstarheart-rp

@raaaaaaaahhhhhh (rainbowstarheart's sideblog)

@rainbow-blocklists

@rainbow-starheart-comission-art

Rainbowstarheart also has a twitter account so block them there:

@your-dead-girl-forever-200k

@your-little-dead-angel-girl-200k

@your-fav-stalker-200k

your-dead-girl-forever-200k constantly also changes her url, so be aware of that. Listed above are the usernames she has changed too.

Also be careful with your-dead-girl-forever-200k as they admitted to stalking proshippers and block evading!

@turquoiseyt

Some of these antis are friends with homophobes as is the case with turquoiseyt.

They even send me a message stating this:

@boltthevolt

@rileydaisy

@hellokittyfangirl2005

@kegwonrgnjessyo

@eatmarcus

@galacticmonsterenergy

@iookingle3rd

@the-vivian-pmttyd-gal

@monkeybell

@minty-the-magic-man

@funnyfaceflea

@yourlocalcrybxby

@mayvianfan-2024

@eights-world

@tooningin

@real-artemis

@sunnydust2003

@taysbigboyblog

@craftyworx

@spiritmander13r

@random-lifes-stuff-blog

@spooky-donut-ghost-house

@moshywoosh

@yardsards

@chibichax

@642spaghettiprincess

@professionalcatnapsimp

@neeeeeoposts

@zagthehyena

@scally-wiggles716

@vexic929

Adding these people to the list:

@sharplette

@kenakostarcat15

@baxstarmallow06

@glitch-fizz

@thisismisogynoir

@newnewtheicon

@undertale-person

@chibitacolord

@ima-bellwoo

@curian

@donatelloisbackbaby

@sillyartistthegoofy

@kirbyderb

@0dividedby0haha

@skitswap

@sourgummy

@celestialweido

@koduflower2000

@m1dn1ght-lag00n

@random-fandom-chaos

@just-michael799

@syspunk-is-antiendo

@siviva

@coffin--coffee

@ladymiraclewings

@stariiuez

@ssolilioquy

@donthugm3imscar3d

@hotelcaliforniaenbydancer

@overmocha1068

@themasterofshadow2024

@divle131313

@escaramelo

@saturnisapotato

@z-raven

@railway323

@r0tt1ng-bunn1ez

@fishcakeq

@zombieboy07

@g3tsnuckup0nxd

@ink-the-axolotl-rabbit

@izzy-the-chaotic-gremlin

@bun-z-bakery

@bumblehoneybee

@hatred-n-hav0c

@medusavsviperz

@instantbearblizzard

@pan-anarcho

@basementcorelingo

@callmeelix

@peachypede

@bumble-the-sun-bee

@soulful-rodent

@howdidiget2here

@howlsnteeth

@callmeabee

@pinkcreamypeach

@vivianfangirl2005

@the-vivian-pmttyd-gal

@delusionalromanticfantasies

@fishie34

@ilovespringy

@vatterson

@faniieveryday

@kingspacebar

@kokobot

@cncity

@coleybaloney

@tenkoaikido

@cozykittengirl

@rinnyluver69

@cookieselfship

@purpleselfships

@starsdontshinetheyburn

That and it looks like they are lying about not going after Lacey anymore:

Furthermore, be careful because these are the type of people who are okay with doxxing people!!

And also some of these antis are friends with antis are not only homophobes, but also prolife:

If I missed any people, please reblog and add them to this list. If I notice any more of their mutuals that I missed I will also add them to the list.

Side note: To keep yourself safe from harrassment from antis, fellow proshippers, I suggest blocking all people who use the tags, ‘proshitter’ ‘anti proship’ and ‘safeshipping.’ But also make sure to check if these people have pinned posts that may list other side blogs and mutuals and to block those as well.

Furthermore, you may want to keep in your drafs the posts from antis to block at least one anti daily that has reblogged another anti's posts. This is what I do which is probably how I have avoided a lot of hate. That and I also block any and all antis that appear in the proship tags due to tumblr's tagging system.

#proship #proshippers please interact #proship safe #anti anti #profiction #tw: antis #call out post #antis dni #comship #darkship #proshippers are valid #long post #lgbt #homophobia #pro life #pro abortion

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hertenskylarks · 5 months ago

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More 2 Cents on S3

So, I know there’s already a lot of talk going around. Here’s my 2 cents.

In light of the recent news, I keep hearing a lot of “Oh, I hope the third season doesn’t get canceled,” and “Oh, I hope it does. Fuck Gaiman,” and “Oh, what about Terry’s vision? What about the fans? What about closure?”

I have absolutely zero control as to whether or not season 3 is made. Many arguments for and against it have already been made. I don't want to beat a dead horse, but I will offer this perspective from my own personal experience.

I’m a swing dancer, and my rapist was my teacher and one of the first people who ever taught me how to dance. One of the things that made me hesitant to come forward was that he was one of the most likable characters in my scene. He was the funny, goofy guy who wore funky printed shirts, he was sooo nice, he couldn’t possibly be a rapist, right? Right?

Seeing people praise him, hearing people talk about how great he is when I knew what he did to me… It drove me absolutely mad. I just wanted to shake people and say, “No, you don’t understand! You don’t understand who he is!” But I felt like I just couldn't. I felt his reputation was too iron-clad to say anything.

Coming forward was one of the scariest things I ever did because I was so sure people either wouldn't believe me or wouldn't care. And, as predicted, that was the case for some. You can only imagine how I felt when someone I used to call my friend went on to have him officiate her wedding. You can only imagine how I felt when the response from the organizers of the dance scene was to ask me to avoid mentioning Y-Town Swing in social media posts (Oops) to protect their reputation. You can only imagine how I felt when they continued to have him as a teacher, or when they updated their safe space policy to say they are not responsible for anything that happens “outside a Y-Town swing event.”

Oh, so if he raped me in the bathroom at the event instead it would have made a difference? Right, sorry, didn't realize the location or a rape mattered that much.

Anyway…

This was all in the confines of a small dance scene, in a small city, in a very niche hobby. Now, imagine how it must feel when your rapist and abuser is a fucking best selling author, praised as this ally to women and LGBT people, he’s the quirky guy who has a Tumblr and actually responds to his fans and he’s so cool, he’s one of us, he can’t possibly be a rapist, right? Right?

I can only imagine how fucking mad it drove his victims to know who he really is and see him put on such a high pedestal.

So, however this all unfolds, I will say this. The people I care about most are the victims. I say this as someone who loved and still loves Good Omens, I say this as someone who was torn up about the final 15, as someone who rejoiced when S3 was originally announced, before all the allegations came to light. I care about the victims.

But what about the fans? Listen, it’s a fucking TV show. Do you really mean to tell me the ending of a fictional fucking story is more important than the very real people he’s hurt? Not having an ending to your favorite show does not hold a candle to the trauma of being sexually assaulted. There’s no comparison. Not in the same ballpark. Not even in the same galaxy.

But what about Terry?

Terry is dead and in his grave. I am sorry to say this, but whether his vision comes to life or not, he will never be the wiser. It makes no difference to him. If I could wave my magic wand and have Terry alive and well and Gaiman dead and in his grave, believe me, I definitely would, but that is not the hand we were dealt.

So please, all I ask is this. Before you go spouting shit like, “I hope we don’t lose S3,” or “I just need to know how it ends,” put yourself in their shoes for just a second.

Imagine you are Claire, or Scarlett, or any of his other victims. Imagine you are sexually assaulted by someone whom the world just puts on a pedestal. You have to sit there and listen to him get praised as being “such a great ally to women and minorities” and “he’s one of us,” and “he’s so brilliant. He’s so cool. He really listens to his fans. Look at this quote of his I got tattooed on my body.” And for years you just sit there and take it, because you’re so fucking afraid that no one will believe you if you come forward, you’re told your story “isn’t enough,” you watch him get richer and richer while you’re stuck with the therapy bill for everyting this “great ally of women” did to you.

Now imagine that you finally come forward. You finally muster up the will to speak your truth, and tell people what he did to you, and you find that you’re not the only person he’s hurt. The world is finally hearing your story and learning what a manipulative monster he is.

And now, I want you to think very carefully about what it means if we still get S3.

S3 means press tours. It means more reviews praising him as a genius. It means certain people being contractually obligated to say nice things about him, or at the very least, not say negative things about him. It means, once again, seeing his fucking horse face or his name everywhere, on Amazon, on billboards, on busses, on posters, in adverts. Only now, it's AFTER the world heard your side of the story.

Just imagine how that would feel.

So, if it wasn't obvious by now, my stance on S3 is… I don't really want it to happen. Not out of spite or some deep seated hatred for Gaiman (although, ya know, fuck that guy) but out of consideration for the people he's hurt, as someone who knows exactly how it feels to see the person who hurt you get put on a pedestal.

I understand that production is paused and people think he may be getting removed from the project. I'm not going to comment on that because "paused” can mean a lot of things and there's so much we don't know yet.

There will be other shows.

There will be shows that DO have satisfying endings.

Media and shows can be replaced.

But there is no such thing as being un-raped.

#neil gaiman #cw sa #cw sa mention #cw rap3 #neil gaimen allegations

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girlboybug · 8 months ago

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daddy issues

“you ask me what i'm thinkin' about, i tell you that i'm thinking about whatever you're thinking about."

or the one where your boyfriend reminds you that you’re all he could ever want.

*unedited*

what’s playing 🎧: daddy issues by the neighbourhood

pairing : dilf!farleigh start x fem!reader (afab bodied)

word count : 3k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, age gap, dilf farleigh au mmm can you tell i’m ovulating, un protected sex, breeding kink, light impact play (he slaps reader a few times but nothing crazy), spitting, brief mentions of an exhibitionistic fantasy, size kink if you squint, cervix kissing yum, slight manhandling :3

TRIGGER WARNINGS : light slapping but nothing harsh and it’s all consensual, ermmm age gap with a power imbalance both professionally and morally but it’s all legal and reader is of age. if i’ve missed anything pls lmk.

a/n : hi guys! i know it's been a while since i've posted any work and i'm so sorry to anyone who has been wanting any updates. i missed you all, but life has been not the best. i won't share whats been going on, as tumblr is a safe space for me and id rather not bring my real life troubles onto here. i hope you guys enjoy this and forgive me for my absence <3

“you’re staring.” he says, not bothering to meet your eyes. you clear your throat, feeling flushed when you look away. “sorry.” you mumble, holding your legs close to your chest. farleigh sighs, shutting down his laptop and swiveling around in his chair before making his way towards you on the bed. your body lights up the second his proximity to you gets a little closer, and he sees it.

it’s hard to not see it.

he knows you try to hide it, to not seem like such an eager little girl, but your internal excitement when it comes to him is just so visibly external. it’s cute, it’s honest and it’s sweet, it’s one of the reasons why he likes you so much.

you welcome him in with open arms, parting your legs for him to climb in between and nestle himself into. he picks you up from the mattress with ease, his large hands supporting you by the hips and the bottom of your ass to reposition you on top of him.

he rests his hands on your thighs, watching as you rest yours on his broad chest, gently smoothing down the material of his white button up, the small embroidered dior catching your eye on the inside of his collar.

“you’ve been quiet today.” he states, his warm hands bringing life to your skin beneath your silk slip. “because you told me to be,” you frown, slumping. he laughs, twiddling with the lace hem at the bottom of your short little slip. “yeah, but you never actually listen.” his thumb guides your chin upwards, pulling your gaze back up to his eyes. “so what’s making you actually listen today?” he asks softly, his hand engulfing your cheek. you lean into his palm, sighing to yourself.

“i dunno,” you shrug, feeling small under his stare. “you dunno?” he repeats back, semi mockingly, but mostly full of endearment. you huff, glaring at him. he laughs again, and it makes something stir in your stomach. everything about him is so attractive, it can be upsetting at times. sometimes inconvenient.

there’s been more times you can count where you’ve sat on the sidelines while he conducts business meetings, strikes deals, makes compromises that are really more so situations that fully benefit him but worded to make it seem like they benefit the other person as well — and other business-y jargon you can hardly keep up with. but it doesn’t matter if you understand what’s going on or not, every time you sit and watch him in his element it lights a desire to stick your hand under your skirt and take care of the ache beginning to build.

it’s just so hot seeing him be ahead of every single one of his colleagues, running circles around them with ease. his intelligence and capability is just so alluring. you think that it comes with his age too, the experience, the knowledge on life. you’ve always thought older men were the standard for attractiveness, and when you met farleigh, he somehow managed to raise the standard you had set in the stars and bring it to a level far beyond that.

but with that, comes a sense of competitiveness with other women in his field. all closer to his age, more experienced than you are in almost every important aspect. it makes you a little insecure from time to time. you’re the first woman in her mid twenties he’s been with since he was in his mid twenties. he’s now approaching his early forties and it makes you nervous that maybe one day your company will bore him and he’ll crave someone else who can keep up with him.

this morning at the bright and early hour of 7am, that fear was reignited in you. you watched from your desk, as your boss, your boyfriend, discuss things you don’t think you’d even really be able to understand, with a beautiful woman in his office. a woman closer to his age.

you watched as he laughed with her, as he let her run her hand down his forearm, watching as he let her hug him before she exited. to wrap a neat bow around the shit filled box, she made it a point to send a condescending smile to you on her way out, almost like she just knew.

but, you know she’s just a coworker, she’s not even in the same department as he is, and is usually located in another location across the state but it felt horrible to see them interact. and it felt even worse knowing they would look good together, complementing one another with a high sense of class and elegance.

farleigh anchors you back to him, squeezing your hip and gently patting your cheek. “what’s going on in that head of yours?” he murmurs, looking at you intently. “hmm?”

“do you think i’m too young for you?” you suddenly ask, eyes already lined with tears. he’s a bit taken aback, not expecting the line of questioning. he takes a moment, swiping away your fallen tears. “no, i don’t. if i did, this—we wouldn’t be happening.” he says clearly, matter of factly, but there’s gentleness in his words, he wants to wipe away any doubt that might linger in your mind about you two. “why? do you think i’m too old for you?” he questions further, sitting up and pulling you along with him, making sure with every movement you remain close. you shake your head, sniffling.

“no,” you huff. “but i was watching you with…that woman in your office and i just…” you trail off, looking down at his button up again, smoothing down invisible wrinkles.

“got a little jealous?” he can’t help the smile that grows on his face and raises his tone, it’s embarrassing and you return his inflating ego with a silencing glare. “yes.” you admit, somewhat annoyed, but you know it stems from your insecurity and fear that he’ll confirm it.

“baby,” he sighs playfully, shaking his head. “i’m far from interested in her. i’ve got my eye on a new girl,” he grins, his tongue poking his cheek. “yeah?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest, suppressing your smile. “who is she?”

he looks off to the side wistfully, exhaling with desire. “ohh i don’t think you’d know her,” he waves you off, sighing when he leans back into the headboard. “she’s my secretary. she wears these tight little pencil skirts, and she has a habit of bending over often. i think she does it on purpose.” he adds, his hands running up and down your thighs. your efforts in keeping a straight face fall flat, your smile betraying them and perking the corners of your lips.

“oh really?” you giggle, leaning forward. “why don’t you make a move on her?” you tilt your head, wondering what his answer will be. “i’m thinking about it. i’m thinking about telling her how i watch her from my office when she thinks i can’t see her, how i think about bending her over her own desk and fucking her in front of all the little boys in their cubicles who think they have a chance with her.”

warmth floods your cheeks like a tide pool, dragging you into the depths of nervousness. his smart tongue and dirty mouth still manage to catch you off guard, never failing in making you flustered and shy. he loves it, he loves how easy it is to play with you.

you can feel him getting hard under you, and it excites you, it makes that familiar ache trickle all over. “i don’t think she’d be against that.” you reply, trying to hide the shakiness in your words, but he hears it. he can always see through you and your little acts.

“oh you think so?” he hums, squeezing your hips. you nod, leaning in closer, nudging your nose with his. “i think so.” you whisper, your lips brushing against his.

“you feel that?” he murmurs, lightly grinding his bulge against your panty clad cunt. you whimper softly, nodding. “it’s only ever for you,” he breathes out, pressing his lips to your lovingly with a chaste kiss. he peppers kisses to your lips over and over until he sinks into you, pulling you in with a hand behind your head.

he moans into your mouth, gripping your hips and planting you firmly on his cock, rocking into you with haste. the pressure and friction ripples through your cunt, nudging your clit just the way you need. you cup his cheeks while you kiss farleigh, melting into him and sighing with content when he migrates from your lips, sucking hot bruises into the side of your neck.

“i need you,” you whimper, meaning the sentiment in more ways than one. farleigh is the only man who’s ever made you feel the way that you do, emotionally and physically. you’ll always need him, whether it be a strong shoulder to cry on, or a strong shoulder to bite into when he’s got you nearly folded in half, fucking you stupid.

“how bad?” he breathes out, bringing his hand between your grinding hips, pressing his long fingers firmly against your cunt. he can feel the dampness seep through the material, laughing smugly when you gasp. “real bad huh?” he adds, humming in agreement when you nod dumbly. “i know baby,” he coos, kissing the space beneath your ear.

you shrug off the spaghetti straps of your slip, a breath of a shock being pulled from your lips when he acts faster than you, eagerly tugging down the white silk material to expose your bare chest. he groans to himself, lurching forward and taking your soft flesh in his mouth.

you arch your back closer to him, eyes fluttering shut and mouth agape with soft moans trickling out into the dimly lit room. he plays with you, rutting his hips into yours, hands and tongue lapping up and groping your breasts, hungrily squeezing, licking and nipping at your flesh.

your hands play with the curls at the back of his neck, tugging with a gasp when you feel his teeth graze your nipples. “farleigh,” you whine, throwing your head back, trying to grind harder on his cock. “need you,” he kisses your sternum, looking up at you with his hands far beneath your slip, wrapped around your sides, fingers gently skimming across your ribs. “i’m right here baby,” his voice cascading around you like caramel, enveloping you in its golden hue, rich and sweet.

he pushes your dampened panties to the side, groaning to himself at the sight of your cunt glistening. he thumbs at your lips, sighing lowly and spreading you apart.

his thumb rubs over your clit, chuckling when your lips part and a shaky moan escapes out. he rescinds his warm touch faster than you would’ve appreciated, softly cooing away your sounds of disappointment. he lifts you off of his lap, laying you gently down on your back. his large hand cradles the back of your head, lowering you down onto the pillow below you.

he unties his tie, discarding it somewhere to be found by the maids in the morning, a shaky sigh fluttering from your lips at the view of him above you. the soft glow of the lamp on your shared nightstand wafts all around him, tracing the outline of his full curls, highlighting his cheekbones and drawing a line down the bridge of his nose. his lips tempt you without having to move at all, no movements in forming words, he just stares at you and with that alone, you’re a perfect malleable thing ready for whatever he has planned.

“you’re beautiful,” he states in a breath of admiration, leaning back down towards you. “my girl,” he sighs, kissing your neck, breathing in the dainty vanilla, floral scent from the dolce & gabbana perfume you begged him for. but beneath the expensive perfume is your scent. your sweet natural scent he can never seem to get enough of, always crouching down to hug you from the back and bury his nose in the crook of your neck, sniffing right at the sweet spot. and now, it just turns him on further, fishing out his cock from his dress slacks, too bothered to take the extra steps in sliding them off his hips, too eager, too desperate to feel you, to be close to you, to be in you.

he pushes in, tugging a deep gasp from the depths of your chest. he groans the second your cunt envelopes him in, gripping him in and squeezing. your walls pulse around the girth of him, trying to adjust to the intrusion. he grinds his hips, shuddering above you. “fuck baby,” he chuckles in disbelief, kissing your collarbone.

“god,” you choke out, swallowing thickly, dragging your fingertips down his back. he starts pivoting his hips deeper in you, slowly pumping in and out, wanting to take his time with you, relishing in being able to savor your cunt. it’s been a few weeks since you both have had sex, he’s just been so busy with work, he hasn’t had the time to fuck you like you deserve, but now he has all the time in the world, and he intends to use it until the very last second.

you feel so full of him and you find yourself somehow wanting more, wishing you could be with him deeper, but in the same breath as that thought, he knocks whatever you have left in your lungs right out, pushing into you deeper as if he could sense what you wanted. your calves rest on his lower back, keeping him flush inside you.

gentleness starts to shed, and an eager pace takes its place, his hips moving faster and his cock hitting harder. your clit brushes against his trimmed bristle of pubic hair, whimpering at the friction, tears already brimming your pretty eyes as he fucks you.

and then you say something you’ve never said before, never even really thought of or fantasized about, but as you stare at him, watching him fuck you like he owns you, you can’t help it from coming out. “hit me,” you whimper pathetically, hardened nipples pressed to his chest with desperation. he stills inside you for a moment, panting with a look of confusion, unsure if you really just said what you said.

“what baby?” he asks breathlessly, swallowing thickly. “hit me, touch me, please farleigh,” you plead, fisting at his button up, grinding your hips down to try and regain some friction. he’s ashamed with the way his cock twitches inside of you at your desperation. so unadulterated and unfiltered in the act of something so filthy.

his hips start moving again, and he’s grabbing at your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker. “open.” he commands, and like a dutiful believer, you obey, parting your mouth for him. he spits and you swallow without being told to, moaning with a gasp when his hand lands on your cheek afterwards with zero infliction of pain, but enough heaviness to remind you his strength is there. it’s simply withheld to avoid hurting you and bruising your pretty face.

your cunt squeezes around him, arching your back into his chest as his hips pivot harder into yours. he takes notice, landing another firm but lovingly smack across your cheek. before your moan gains sound, his large palm covers your mouth, his lips finding your ear. “be quiet and listen,” he murmurs, leaving the air silent. all you can hear is him fucking you, how wet and loud you are. “you’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles in your ear, and the moan that follows behind his palm just proves his point further.

“do you hear that?” he shoves his hips in, pinning yours down with his available hand, giving more access for him to push in deeper. the fat tip of his cock nudges at your cervix, filling you out more than anyone ever has. “making a mess all over my slacks baby.” he grunts, but there’s no complaints to be found.

when he finally removes his hand from your lips, he’s greeted with your heavenly moans, rendering him weak with his face in your neck, mouth baring hot kisses, groaning your name.

his hand that nearly dwarfs your face comes back down, slapping the side of your cheek, his warm palm cradling it after the impact, his thumb running along your pouring waterline. “my little crybaby,” he grunts with humor, his hand sliding from your cheek to the nape of your neck, his other hand following suit. he presses down, forcing you to crane your neck downward, focusing your gaze on the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your puffy cunt. “watch.” he utters in your ear, his teeth catching your earlobe before he pulls away.

and you do.

you watch him take you over and over, his hips slamming into yours, occasionally stilling in you to let the weight of his cock buried deep inside you hang heavy.

your legs tremble around him, unable to soothe them from the adrenaline that comes with getting fucked. “touch yourself.” he exhales, bringing his lips to your forehead. “wanna feel you cum,” and that alone could have made you finish. you bring your fingers to your aching clit, moaning a drawn out whimper at the stimulation. he watches himself fuck you, how he stretches you out and how your cunt accommodates him every time.

“fuck,” you sob, panting heavily, sweat starting to collect around your neck and trickle between your breasts. “can i cum?” you plead through a choked moan, clit throbbing in excitement when he nods, picking up the pace in his thrusts. he releases your neck, traveling up to your jaw and bringing you closer to his mouth. his lips are pressed to your’s in milliseconds, drinking in every little sound you let out as he fucks you through your orgasm.

a bruising grip rests on your jaw and hip, like a wordless statement of how much of you belongs to him. which is everything. you can’t think of a single thing about you that you could say isn’t apart of farleigh; hell, you can’t think at all right now, not when your poor cunt is getting pounded into and your shaky fingers can’t seem to stop rubbing circles over your clit. the feelings that deluge through your body are addictive, it feels so good that it trickles into a delicious type of hurt.

you’ve already cum, its existence proven by the white ring around the base of his cock, the sight has your hole weakly tightening around him. with no forewarning, he pulls out, leaving you hollow and empty, wincing from the loss.

before you can voice your confusion and protests, he’s flipping you around, guiding your hips back up, large hand pressing your cheek into the pillows below you. he’s back in you as soon as he exited you, groaning lowly to himself. “fuckin’ perfect.” he grunts mostly to himself, his cock twitching at the sweet little gasp you let out from the new angle. he travels into you deeper this way, nudging your cervix with every other thrust.

he curls behind your back, his chest pressed flush against your shoulder blades, his lips nipping and sucking bruises into the crook of your neck, breathing in your earthy dulcet scent. he brings your wrists to the small of your back, keeping them in place while his thrusts start to become more and more sporadic. “gonna cum, tell me how bad you want it,” he grits, feeling his climax fast approaching, eager to finish to the sweet sound of you begging for his cum.

begging for him to cum inside of you is as easy as breathing, if not easier, since he always manages to take your breath away, whether that be by his charming smile or with his hand wrapped firmly around your throat. “please cum in me,” you sob, tears staining the white silk pillowcases. “wanna be full of you, please farleigh, i need it, need it so bad,” you babble mindlessly, trying to fuck your over sensitive cunt onto him, your ass meeting him with every pivot he sends into you.

normally, he’d push you a little more, too indulgent in his desires to let you have it that easily. but the way you fuck yourself onto him and cry for him is enough to make any man give in. his pants come out sharp, his thrusts matching the tempo of his thumping pulse, spilling into you with a loud groan of your name, his hips fused firmly to your ass. he pumps into a few more times, swallowing hard at the sight of his and your sticky cum and the mess it's made. “gonna pull out now baby,” he murmurs softly in your shoulder blade, kissing the skin lovingly. you wince, squeezing your eyes shut, collapsing back into the bed with your legs tucked close to you.

he crawls over on top of you, running his hands across your clammy forehead and temple. he peppers gentle kisses over your warm skin, humming quietly. “you okay?” he asks, laying beside you, pulling you into him after tucking himself back into his slacks. “mhm,” you nod lazily, shuffling around to face him. he chuckles, kissing your nose.

his arm wraps around you, securing you into his chest, rubbing your back in relaxing circles. his hand sneaks between your legs, scooping his cum with his fingers, shushing you playfully when you whimper, your hips shying away from his touch. “behave,” he chastises lightly, bringing his fingers to your lips. “open.” you open your bitten lips, tongue darting out along his digits, licking him clean. you hum something of approval, kissing the pads of his fingers before he pulls them away. “good?” he mumbles against your cheek. “good.” you confirm, kissing his hair.

he snakes his arms around your waist, unsatisfied with how far you feel from him wanting to be as close as humanly possible. you’ve always loved how touchy he remained after sex, used to the two pump and dump cycle you’ve had with past guys.

unlike them, farleigh isn’t just some guy, he’s a man – granted a man old enough to be your father, but that never bothered you, if anything it added to the appeal. but regardless of all of that, he loves you, loves being near you even in non-sexual contexts. he proves it every day, like he is now, whispering about how pretty you look right now. “i love you,” he says softly, and it sounds like the first time he said it, gentle and nervous. it makes you smile, opening your heavy eyes to peer into his. “i love you.” you repeat back with just as much truth and confirmation. “i love you,” you kiss him, sealing your promise with your lips pressed together.

#farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh start #farleigh catton #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn smut #saltburn movie #saltburn 2023 #farleigh start smut #farleigh catton smut #dilf!farleigh start #dilf!farleigh #saltburn au #dilf smut

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thefiery-phoenix · 1 year ago

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YANDERE TONY STARK HEADCANONS

Tony as a yandere would be calculating, EXTREMELY possessive, a manipulative and obsessive one too and it's all for the best in his eyes

He'd first meet you at a party or something like that. You weren't like those other types of people, shallow and self centered. The way you just... blended with the flow and you were super chill about it was intriguing to him. So he came up to you and when you suddenly tripped on your shoe lace/ heel, he caught you by our waist as you spilled your drink on him . You apologized profusely and grabbed a few tissues from somewhere and offered to help him but he just brushed it off telling you it was no problem

May or may not send JARVIS to spy on you just to know 'if your safe of not' and heck, he'll even find a way to hack into ALL your accounts you never told a single soul about and YES that even includes that Wattpad and Tumblr account too. He'll keep track of all your social media and if he sees anyone trying to flirt with you or something, he'll either end up blocking them or send JARVIS or his Iron Legion or deal with those clowns. He needs his daily dosage of hourly updates on you so he knows you're safe or he'll freak

He knows you like the back of his hand and probably much more than you know about yourself. He can read you like an open book, always calculating and interpreting your next move

He tries being subtle with you first, trying to gain and get your attention with gifts and all that romantic shit, but he grows puzzled and confused when you keep on rejecting him. He gets upset and startled when you call him a 'Playboy' and he'll do something completely IRRATIONAL like kidnapping you. Ah yes, the most easiest way to deal with problems when it comes to yanderes

But he'll never yell or raise his hands on you and make you do things you aren't comfortable with. He has a lot of respect for you and literally DROWNS in his respect women juice. He will spoil you rotten till no ends. Want that new book series that got released? Don't worry, he's already called ahead and made sure those guys have a separate stock ready for you. Want your favorite snack? It's already there sitting beside your bed table

When you act up or try running away from him, he'll be heartbroken and disappointed like a dad. He'll restrict you from using your favorite items for a while and then he'll just cuddle you and kiss you saying he really loves you and not to scare him or do something like that again

If someone tries harming you that fool who decided to do something as stupid and dangerous as that would literally pay with their lives no joke. He'll be bashing them up till they bleed and after he's done torturing them, he'll kill them. No one messes with the love of his life and TF away with it

Man has ABSOLUTE power that can even ruin people's lives if necessary

Just listen to him before he does something really irrational like killing your friends because they're ''taking'' you away from him

#yandere tony stark #yandere tony stark x reader #yandere tony stark scenarios #yandere tony stark oneshots #yandere tony stark imagines #yandere tony stark headcanons #yandere tony stark avengers #yandere avengers #yandere avengers x reader #dark avengers #dark avengers x reader #yandere mcu #yandere mcu x reader #yandere marvel #yandere marvel x reader #yandere marvel characters x reader #yandere marvel characters #dark marvel #dark tony stark

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violetasteracademic · 10 months ago

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Master List

*On Tumblr hiatus. Please direct yourself to AO3 for updates!*

Violetasteracademic found here on AO3!

Elriel:

Rated: Explicit

Status: In Progress Multi-Chapter

Summary:

After nearly losing both her sisters once again, Elain Archeron decides to take the growth of her powers into her own hands. Things may not be going as she would have hoped, but when the Crown is stolen, it is finally time for Elain to serve her court and show her family what she can do. The search for the Crown winds up being a job for the seer and the shadowsinger, the male she has fallen for but barely spoken to after an unrequited wish for a kiss. Azriel has been careful to stay away from Elain, trying his best to follow his High Lord's orders. But as they are forced to work together to protect their court, his resolve begins fading more quickly than he can manage. As they search for the Crown, they become trapped in a castle of treachery, vengeance, and twisted fates. If they cannot find their way out of it, they risk becoming lost there forever, or killed. And if they can't keep their hands off each other, they might finally have to face the mountain of obstacles standing in their way at the home that awaits them.

Click here to read on AO3

Click here for the chapter list

Rated: Explicit. Please read the warning tags on Ao3 before diving in!

Status: Completed Multi-Chapter

Summary:

Elain Archeron has been split into pieces. After falling for Azriel, the broody and mysterious Illyrian male, they steal a quiet moment late in the night on Solstice. She was certain their feelings were mutual, but his rejection sends her into a tailspin. Lost, heartbroken, and confused, Elain wonders if she has truly gone mad once again. With the pressure of her mating bond, threats looming over the Inner Circle's shoulder, and the weight of her visions on her shoulders, Elain struggles to keep her spirits up. Little does she know that Azriel, after being ordered by his High Lord to stay away from her, has been concocting a secret plan to change the tides and give them a chance at happiness. If he can find what he is looking for, it will change everything.

Click here to read on AO3

Click here for the chapter list

Feysand:

Rated: Explicit. Please read the warning tags on AO3!

Status: In Progress Multi-Chapter

Summary:

Feyre Archeron is an art therapist for the children's cancer wing at Velaris Memorial Hospital. After leaving her abusive fiancé and moving back in with her sisters, her plans to heal and move on with peace and privacy go up in flames when women begin to come forward with sexual harassment allegations against her ex, Tamlin Thornwood. Rhysand Noctis is the owner and CEO of Eventide Enterprises. After losing his mother to cancer, he has felt adrift. No amount of money and acclaim has been able to give him the sense of home and belonging he has lost. When an old family rival, Tamlin Thornwood, is tangled up in a scandal and lawsuits, Rhysand learns that Velaris Memorial Hospital is in trouble. The only non-profit hospital in Velaris, which cared for his mother, has lost all its donors and board members. Rhys decides to purchase the hospital and dedicate his time to restoring its reputation and making it a safe place for women and the community of Velaris to work and receive affordable care. A chance encounter sends Feyre and Rhys colliding with each other before they realize how inextricably their personal and professional lives are already intertwined.

*This is part one of a three part, three brothers and three sisters series

Click here to read on AO3

Nessian:

Rated: Explicit. Please read the warning tags on AO3!

Status: In Progress Multi-Chapter

Summary:

Nesta Archeron doesn't need anyone to take care of her. After losing both her parents at age eighteen, she gave up her dreams of going to law school and worked her way up with nothing more than a high school diploma and unmatched grit to become the head of public relations at Velaris Memorial Hospital. When Tamlin Thornwood scandalizes VMH, she has to work closely with new ownership to save it. She has full confidence in herself and her plan. However, Eris Vanserra, her rival at SkyView, is out for blood after Nesta won over the youngest Vanserra to VMH. And she now has to answer to Cassian- a man she has already sworn to hate before learning his name. Cassian has a chip on his shoulder in an industry where name, money, and education is everything. And restoring the reputation and the financial security of VMH is personal to him. Complicating matters is Nesta Archeron, the fiery PR director working side by side with him to ensure the Starfall Ball is a massive success. Difficulty maintaining their professional lines is fueled by both hate and attraction. But as layers peel back, they learn that they have more in common than they thought. But lines are crossed that might be impossible to come back from.

Click here to read on AO3

*This is part two of a three part, three brothers and three sisters series

Short Form (poetry, drabble, one-shots):

In Time: @elainarcheronweek 2024

Read poem here

A Rainy Day in Velaris: Elain Aecheron inbox request

Read drabble here

Art/Collaborations:

Elain Archeron Portrait: @elainarcheronweek 2024

View here

#elriel #pro elriel #elriel endgame #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #elriel supremacy #elriel fanfic #spicy elriel fanfic

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runby2 · 1 year ago

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hi it's the creator of horse plinko and other huge posts on this site.

i wanted to make a quick post on here, not to keep everyone updated on my life, because i'm going to keep staying far away from social media, but to let everyone know that if you feel like you are endlessly changing yourself to fit your following's perfect standards, you are not actually getting better as a person. why do i say this? growing up, i had a horrible childhood and it was hard to grasp a sense of self, so the internet was a good escape. i made posts about current topics, tried to get a lot of notes, and when i got those notes i felt like my life had a purpose. i didn't let myself ever find out who i truly was because early on i was so obsessed with being the perfect persona on the internet and avoiding home life, that i had literally linked my life cable to the internet. i was the living definition of chronically online. i was so young too, so i saw a bright future ahead of myself. "it can only go up from here." 3 years of complete isolation happened after my 18 years in a cult, and recovering from mental institutional abuse. and i went by juicedoesthings. and i fought with every part of myself, ignoring my DID and even having alters post inspirational paragraphs about why DID is 'something i know i don't have because ___'- some you can probably still find on this blog buried deep somewhere - i was lost in a cycle of amnesia and perfectionism to the point ALL of my identities were juicedoesthings, and we were all the same, and if one of us stepped out of line, we'd shun it. we couldn't risk being problematic. we couldn't risk everything we've worked up to be crumble. because that was all we were. don't make your identity a username. don't keep track of what is and is not acceptable at the current time in a fandom of any sort. don't curate your art just because a discourse blog reblogged it for clout. don't overthink some personal statement you made just because thirty people sent you personalized death threats. don't forget about nuance, and in the most sincere way i can communicate this, touch grass. and find out what comforts you. learn what makes you happy, not what can improve you. this post will probably be drowned under reblogs as my life goes on and i occasionally check back into this ghost town of what used to be my only identity. but tumblr fame has irreversibly damaged me, and how i perceive myself. it took so long for me to feel like it was okay to make mistakes. if the above sounds like you, i desperately urge you to find a way out of that cycle. don't chase fame online. anonymity can definitely get you where you want to be safely. over my years on here ive seen children adults and teens ask how to make a webcomic, how i got this many followers, how i became "me". i was conforming. i became perfect for the internet, but i didn't have any sense of self. don't be like me. don't become me. just create, and disconnect yourself from who you think you need to be in order to be enough.

#positivity #recovery #art #webcomics #juicedoesthings

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joanquill · 1 year ago

Note

*INHALES*

Hi there! I’m a really REALLY big fan of your writting and I happened to write a few Moriarty fanfics and writtings too!

This is actually me new tumblr acount on my new phone cause my old phone is broken and my mom wouldn’t let me fix it again cause I already have a new phone.

I write my first moriarty headcanon’s here https://www.tumblr.com/aisyahstar123/736408203205771264/moriarty-back-scratches-headcanons

(As you can probably tell I’m Aisyahstar123, it’s a long blog and I never change the name)

So if you’re still closed, please just ignore this.

But can I politely, kindly request some Moriarty brother’s with a S/O that likes to scratch their back? I always have a things for back scratches.

Back Scratches Headcanons

Albert, William, and Louis James Moriarty

A/N: EYYYYY FELLOW WRITER! 🙌 thank you so much!! 🥰 I'm sorry to hear about your phone, though... But I enjoyed reading your headcanons! I'm not sure if this is good but I hope you like it 😅 Also, I apologize for the inconsistent updates! I'm not sure if it's laziness, procrastination, seasonal depression, or something else

Albert James Moriarty

He was taken aback when you first suggested it.

Not that he found it weird. Just wasn't expecting it.

The first time you scratched his back, he flinched a little from your touch but slowly got used to it and relaxed.

He will never admit it to you, but he felt ticklish at some spots and tried his best to hide his reaction.

You noticed how his muscles tensed whenever your fingers reached his sides but decided to keep it to yourself.

Now, he LOVES your back scratches.

He likes to listen to your voice while lying on his stomach and your nails scratching his back.

Don't expect much of a reply from him while you scratch his back because he's most likely dozing off.

Especially if he was tired or had a hard time at work.

You could be reciting the dictionary, and he won't complain. He just likes listening to you while you're scratching his back.

His favorite position is his head on your lap, hugging your waist while you scratch his back.

Or any other position where he has his arms around you.

He might ask you to scratch his back every time he comes back home, especially when he's gone for days to weeks.

He offered to give you back scratches as well, but they usually end up with him tickling your sides.

At some point, it became a habit for you to scratch his back before bed, helping him relax and fall asleep.

William James Moriarty

When you first suggested it to William, he had some reservations but eventually agreed.

When you first did it, you noticed how he would tense against your touch, but he slowly got used to it.

When he noticed you trying to tickle him, he immediately grabbed your hand with a smirk, warning if you do that again, he'll retaliate tenfold.

Safe to say, you didn't try to do that again.

It took him some time to get used to it, but now, he loves them.

Whenever you suggest giving him one, he says yes.

However, he usually lets you do it when you're alone or somewhere private.

He'll guide your hands or tell you if he wants you to scratch him somewhere.

He's much more of an active conversationalist than Albert, humming in response or asking you questions so you can continue talking to him while you scratch his back.

He likes having you scratch his back before he's about to nap, helping him relax while he enjoys your touch.

He also loves giving your back scratches.

However, he might try to tickle you. Especially when he's been very busy or away from you.

But most of the time, he likes seeing you relax while he's scratching your back.

His favorite is when you're lying on his chest while he's scratching your back and vice versa, talking about your day.

He might unconsciously run his fingers across your back while you're cuddling.

Louis James Moriarty

It's gonna be a while until you convince him.

When you suggested it, Louis' face became red, giving some excuse or running away, saying he had some chores left.

He'll avoid the topic as much as possible, feeling it was too intimate.

When you do convince him, he'll be nervous and tense the whole time.

He's pretty self-conscious the whole time, unsure how he should be, where his hands should go, or if he should talk or not make any noise while you scratch his back.

When you reach somewhere sensitive or touchy, he immediately jumps away with a red face and cuts it short.

Same reaction when he makes a noise he wasn't expecting.

After a while, he gets used to it and relaxes when you scratch his back.

Now, when you reach somewhere ticklish, he just moves away and grabs your hand, telling you not to touch him there with a shy face.

If he notices you keep trying to scratch him there, he immediately gets you back and tickles you.

He loves getting his back scratched after a long day, focusing on your touch while you talk to him about anything.

His favorite is when you both lie in bed while you scratch his back, especially when it's right before you both go to sleep.

When Louis offers to give you back scratches, he's very gentle at first. Not wanting to cut you with his fingers or hurt you.

When he gets used to it, he offers you back scratches if he notices you are stressed or irritated.

Or when you go to him to complain, he instinctively reaches to your back and lightly scratches it, sometimes just patting you and rubbing your back.

#yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #albert moriarty x reader #william moriarty x reader #louis moriarty x reader #albert james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x reader #louis james moriarty x reader #albert james moriarty #albert moriarty #william james moriarty #william moriarty #louis moriarty #louis james moriarty #headcanons

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scoonsalicious · 10 months ago

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Unwanted: Chapter 17, Unanswered - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, 🤮, really corny made up headlines that I am disproportionally proud of.

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: The night of the gala, you had a heart-to-heart with Steve, and it seems like he understands that there will never be anything more between you than friendship. Bucky's off on a raid, and you're still sick as a dog.

A/N: Cue the sitcom-level misunderstandings and miscommunications! Onward toward shenanigans! Just kidding! It's gonna be angst!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

As soon as you woke up the next morning, you were in the bathroom, throwing up once again. You were very much over this, thank you. Maybe you should go down to med bay and get checked out. You’d do it if you were still feeling poorly by the end of the day.

You went to the sink to rinse out your mouth and nearly jumped when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror– sleeping in your makeup had not done you any favors, that was obvious now. You looked like a rabid raccoon with the way your mascara had smeared around your eyes and your lipstick had smudged around your mouth. Grumbling to yourself, you hopped into the shower, hoping to wash away all traces of the trash panda that had taken you over down the drain.

When you finished, you decided you had earned yourself a rest break, so you dressed in your comfiest of loungewear and flopped yourself back down on your bed. Picking your phone, you checked to see if Bucky had texted you to let you know the raid had been successful, and he was safe once again.

Before you could check your messages, however, you were bombarded by a barrage of Google alerts for your name. When you’d taken on the position of Stark Industries CTO, you’d set up the alert for yourself, wanting to keep an eye on any and all news items that might pertain to you, just in case some nosey reporter decided to go digging for information about your past you’d rather have stayed buried. Thus far, you’d managed to keep yourself out of the spotlight.

All that seemed to have changed overnight. You were met with headline after ridiculous headline, each accompanied by photos of you and Steve, taken without your knowledge, from the night before:

“Love in the Lab? Captain America Spotted Getting Cozy with Stark Industries CTO!”

“Sizzling Speculation: Is Captain America Courting Stark Industries' Chief Techie?”

“Behind the Shield: Captain America's Covert Romance with Stark Industries' Techno Prodigy!”

“Avengers Assemble... for Love? Captain America Linked to Stark Industries' Brainiac!”

The photos themselves were ridiculous; carefully selected snapshots of innocuous moments cropped to look far more scandalous without proper context than they really were. Steve leaning in to speak in your ear with his hand on your elbow; you and Steve dancing; Steve holding you up when you almost fell, which looked a lot like he was about to lean in to kiss you; you and Steve looking cozy in conversation on the sofa; Steve’s hand at the small of your back as he led you out of the banquet room. Fortunately, because of the full face of makeup you were wearing, you didn’t feel like you looked much like your everyday self, but it was still unmistakably you.

You scanned some of the articles, looking to see what sort of bullshit they’d come up with to sell this absolute garbage.

“‘I can’t say for sure that they were together,’ said one male guest at the gala, who asked to have his name withheld, ‘but there were many, many men who approached her throughout the evening, and she rebuffed every single one of them, except for the Captain!’”

“One of our sources reported that ‘100% without a doubt, Captain Rogers and Ms. (Y/L/N) left the gala together, and Captain Rogers couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her! Let’s just say they left fairly early, and neither one seemed to find their way back to the party.’ Is it possible the two were engaging in a private celebration all their own?”

“An anonymous source inside Avengers’ Tower told our reporter that ‘Ms. (Y/L/N) has been involved with a certain super soldier for quite some time now. They tried to keep it secret for awhile, but everyone here knows they’re an item, and they are very much in love.’”

“Captain Rogers and Ms. (Y/L/N) were unavailable for comment. Perhaps they’ve yet to emerge from last night’s love nest.”

You tossed your phone onto your bed and let out an annoyed groan. Wonderful. Now you’d have to get a hold of the company’s PR team and spend the rest of the day coming up with a statement refuting the reports to give to the press. Oh well. At least you and Bucky could have a good laugh about it when he got home.

Oh shit– Bucky. There was a small chance he might come across one of these articles, and you wanted to give him a heads up before he had an opportunity to let his insecurities get the better of him and spiral. He had to know how ridiculous the entire situation was.

You picked your phone back up and hit the button to call him, but it went straight to voicemail. Odd, but not completely out of nowhere; he was probably somewhere with shitty service. You began speaking at the beep.

“Hey, baby. I just wanted to give you a heads up– I woke up to a string of garbage headlines implying that Steve and I are together, but I just want to assure you that is absolutely not the case. The entire thing is a fucking nightmare. We were both at the gala, and he kept me company for a little while. We just talked and danced a little bit, and he helped me out when I was feeling dizzy. Still sick, by the way. Threw up again this morning and I— sorry, off topic. Anyway, I did talk to him about his feelings for me, and reminded him that I only see him as a friend, like family. I think he took it well. No tears, at least, and he wasn’t mad. He said he just wants us both to be happy.” You paused for a minute as you considered Steve’s words from the night before.

“I want us to be happy, too, Buck. I think I’m ready to try again when you get home, if you want. I miss you. Not just because you’re not here right now, but I miss us. I love you too much to waste any more time not being with you. So, let’s do that, okay? Let’s start over. Stay safe and come back to me, Barnes. I love you.”

You ended the call and decided to text him, too, just to be on the safe side. A call might not be able to go through, but a text might.

>> Hey– just left you a voicemail. There’s a bunch of stories about me and Steve going around the internet that are all complete and total bullshit.

>> Gotta meet with PR to put out a statement. Wanted you to hear it from me before you saw it online or something.

>> I’m so sorry if it stresses you out– it’s stressing *me* out.

>> I hope you know that I would *never* betray you like that.

>> Be safe, my love. I can’t wait for you to get home. I think I’m ready to try us again if you are.

You sat there, staring at your phone for several long minutes, as though you could will him to respond to you, but the text thread remained dormant. You tried calling him a few more times, but each call went straight to voicemail.

Meanwhile, it seemed like everyone you knew who wasn’t Bucky was trying to get in touch with you to ask you what the fuck was going on– and even more people you didn’t know; reception had left you several harried messages asking how you wanted to field requests for comment from at least two dozen reporters. Wanda was lamenting that she and Vision were away at the shore for the weekend and couldn’t be part of the excitement, and Nat swore that if she wasn’t horrifically hungover, she’d be in your room grilling you for information as you spoke.

“There’s no information to grill for, Natty,” you assured her. You rubbed your forehead– now, in addition to your nausea and persistent fatigue, you had the pleasure of a pounding headache, as well. “We danced, like, three quarters of a song, I almost passed out, he helped me stay upright, and we talked. I told him there was never going to be anything more between us than friendship, and he walked me to my room so I wouldn’t faint on the way. He left me at my door.”

“What does Barnes think about all of this?” she asked you, and you could hear the smirk in her voice, hangover or not.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I tried calling him a hundred times to talk to him about it, but I keep getting sent straight to voicemail.”

“Well, I wouldn’t get too riled up about it,” Nat said. “There’s swaths of areas of Russia that don’t have cell service. Besides,” she added, “you’re not the one that can’t be trusted. If he doesn’t believe you, he’s got a lot of fucking nerve.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. “Yeah,” you sighed, “you’re right. I just wish I could reach him, at least to know he’s safe.”

“Eh, don’t worry about Barnes,” Nat said. “His head’s almost as hard as his arm. He’ll be fine.”

You had to begrudgingly agree to that, though his silence continued to unnerve you. You said your goodbyes to Nat and checked the time on your phone screen. Your meeting with the head of PR was in about fifteen minutes; might as well start heading down now. The sooner you could find a way out of this mess, the better.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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zeddylux · 3 months ago

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I know I'm a little late to the party, meant to make this post yesterday but here we are. It's Arcane season at last baby!!! We've waited years for this and I know we're all excited but a few things to keep in mind for my page specifically.

1. I profoundly apologize to anyone who follows me for any other content it will simply be Arcane from now until probably into next year. I fully understand if you mute or unfollow me because of it.

2. We all know Netflix is being a massive cunt with password sharing so not everyone has access to the show. PLEASE TAG YOUR SPOILERS.

3. Please everyone be civil when discussing the very heavy themes involved in this show. If you cannot behave yourself in my comments and reblogs you will get blocked. End of discussion.

4. Just a few opinions I have specifically...I don't much care for Silco. I think his relationship with Jinx is very manipulative and creepy so keep that in mind if you choose to follow me. If you really like their relationship I'm probably going to make you mad. In addition Vi hate will not be tolerated. I know the shallow stupid opinions alot of you have about her character. Believe me I'm going to be fairly critical with how the series handles her transition (and hopefully later opposition) to being an enforcer as well as the revolutionary writing in general. But get your season 1 takes out of my face. Vi did not create Jinx. Stop it. Mel, Ambessa, Sevika, or Ekko hate will also NOT be tolerated. If you bring your racism and antiblackness to my discussions you will be blocked and reported. You have been warned.

5. As I mentioned above I will be fairly critical of how this season handles its political writing. I love Caitvi I do. They actually mean quite alot to me but I'll likely be the hardest on Cait this season. Speaking as an American there are alot of bad things going on here that she specifically represents and I'm hopeful and curious as to how the writing team chooses to handle her.

Other than that welcome to the discussion! I'll be watching the new season as soon as I'm able and I'm sure will be putting my rambling on here as I think of them. I've watched season one an ungodly amount of times I'm sure this season will be no different. I hope Netflix does these characters justice and I hope anyone who is new to this amazing series feels welcome and safe on my page to discuss. Let's fucking go!!!

Also this blog still stands with Palestine, Sudan, and Congo as well as all marginalized groups affected by fascism and imperialism around the world. Just gonna pin these rules for now!

Allright. Now that everything's over...I have some new rules. The above rules still stand but...tbh I really really hated that season. There were some things I enjoyed but for the most part I did NOT care for it. You're welcome to scroll through my blog to see my thoughts and various discussions between me and my mutuals. (Usually tagged Arcane critical or anti Caitvi). They did everyone so dirty and I'm EXTREMELY dissappinted. Especially with Caitvi. Please keep all these rules in mind before interacting with my posts. Also please let me know if there is any bigotry of any kind in my comments, posts, or forums. I will take care of it immediately. Thank you!

One last addition, I had to briefly log back on to address a small matter..I was looking through wattpad to see if they had slightly better Arcane fanfics than A03...and came across a drabble that was almost identical to my Vigert drabble...rebranded Caitvi. I don't know if this was some kind of revenge scheme by a Caitlyn Stan or what but the coward immediately deleted their fic once I sent them a message. I think this goes without saying...but do not steal my fanfics. Do not steal my ideas do not steal my drabbles. I will delete them if I see this happening again. The fuck?? 😤

Update #2- Said person is now stalking my tumblr and sending me nasty messages 😑 Unfortunately I will have to turn asks off again since no one can behave. I swear every fandom is just full of immature children but oh well 🤷‍♀️

Even though I had to turn my asks off again please consider donating to any of the gofundmes I have shared below. Palestine and many people around the world still very much need our help and any amount you can donate in my stead would be greatly appreciated! Love you all 🫶

#vi arcane #jinx arcane #jinx #arcane #mel arcane #arcane silco #silco #caitvi #caitlyn arcane #arcane spoilers #im gonna need so much booze for this one #somebody hold me #SOMEBODY SEDATE ME

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seth-burroughs · 5 months ago

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Still genuinely so fucking shocked and appalled that people STILL sexualize Yomi while knowing he's literally 3. That is a child no matter how many proshitter mental gymnastics you do in order to convince yourself you aren't a predator. It DOES NOT MATTER whether he was an adult with a job before the cloning, ALL IT MATTERS IS THAT HE IS TECHNICALLY, LITERALLY, LEGITIMATELY A SMALL CHILD(!!!) RIGHT NOW ACCORDING TO ALL LAWS. A normal, non-icky person wouldn't even doubt that, so if you, like, thought that far in order to justify it that's pretty weirddddd imo lolll likeeee why are you so adamant on sexualizing 3-y*ar oldsss lmaoooooo

I didn't want to mention this at first, but I cannot just leave it unadressed, no matter how sick to the core it makes me... and that is, the concerning rise of m*koy///omi content in Rain Code fandom. No matter how much Yomi himself is minor-coded, Makoto is minor-coded to a way higher degree. You cannot argue with this. Listen I don't want to hear anything about "ohhhh but he is an adulttt" I do not care. I do not care about how much proof there is that he's a major, that does not fucking matter if he LOOKS LIKE A FUCKING CHILD. Is THIS your fucking waifu? Is that the hill you wanna die on. Then do it. Not like I care. I'm making a callout post. I'm hunting down all your mutuals and telling them you're a sicko that fetishizes minor x minor-coded minor content. I wonder what you'll do then.

But, you know. Whatever. Shit like this happens every day in fandom. People are disgusting. People dissapoint me. People leave me. Discard me. Because I tell them how illegal their ships are. No one cares, because they're all sickos, and I am the only normal person in fandom. I don't let it get to me. Life goes on, you know? If I ever get too stressed out scrolling yaoi on tumblr I can always scroll yaoi on twitter. My own son won't even speak to me. He's 6 months old, but I know he's just giving me the silent treatment. Because he fucking hates me. Because I'm the only one in this fandom to try and keep the fucking order, and people hate that. They hate all authority.

So please. Sophia, sugarplum. Please. Unprivate your likes tab. Don't let the fucking likes tab get between us, Sophia. Show me the yaoi you've been looking up. Why are you scared? Because you've been lying to me? Because, when my back was turned, you were romanticizing abusive relationships? No. No, Sophia. It's not just fiction. It's my life, Sophia. So. Unprivate your likes section. Unprivate your likes. Why won't you discord call me anymore. Do you remember how we used to run. I will not lose my twin flame to the fiendish predatory height difference. Not ever again. Not ever.

Do Not Fucking Interact with this post if you are a: basic DNI criteria, timeskip plot apologist, axclusionist, support lesbians, an abuser/racist/groomer/illegal ship supporter/a serial killer, below 18 or above 19, engage in k*nk, if you enjoy irredeemable media such as D*nganronpa, Homesfuck, Gr*vity Fa//s, Mcyt, H*zbin H*tel, FnaF or musicals (complete list at pinned), ship Yuma or Makoto with adults, ship Yuma or Makoto with minors, are a Sh*nigami apologist, a self-shipper, if you have impure thoughts, are anti-harassment, a system, toothpaste flag users, h*llectro shipper (IT'S LITERAL ABUSE YOU FREAKS), do not approach all media critically, do not approach all media with contempt, annoying people, icky people, bots, do not approach state-sanctioned executions uncritically, if you support abuse especially in fiction, sexualize Fubuki (minor-coded), yanderes, if you enjoy gross characters, cannot respect my safe space, interact positively with my disowned disgusting daughter, are an asshole, are a freak (you know who you are), if you reblog from my mutuals (they are mine. no one elses.) s*th fans are fine ig but on thin fucking ice. will be updated with time always check the og post for edits before reblogging or I will make a callout post for your offense

#mine #shitpost tag

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aftgficrec · 5 months ago

Note

Hi!!! Do you have any recommendations for Kevin/Jeremy/Jean fics? Both more canon compliant ones or AUs are fine. Thanks!

I’m pleased to say there are some fabulous fics in our previous recs, and I found quite a lot more Kerejean for you here. - S

Previously recommended:

In the Light of Day here

‘when i kissed the teacher’, ‘Lap Sitting’ and ‘Spice the Eggnog Ch.8’ here

‘Daylight, Sunsets’ here

‘Belief’, ‘Our First Christmas’ and ‘Kerejean soulmate au’ here

‘Funeral Pyre’ here (updated)

‘Best of you’ here (updated)

‘To Be Certain We'll Be Tall Again’ here (completed)

‘Coming Home’ here

‘Enby Kevin/Kerejean Request’ here

text me (when you're home) by Anonymous [Rated T, 11007 words, incomplete, last updated Sept 2024]

After a summer of radio silence Jean finally reaches out to Kevin in form of a text. It goes from there. or a kevjerjean texting fic

'tis the damn season by footnotesforfoxes (y2beans) [Rated M, 7155 words, incomplete, last updated Aug 2024]

BREAKING NEWS - Exy star Kevin Day suffers extreme knee injury! Will he ever play again? Kevin Day, Jean Moreau, and Jeremy Knox have never been able to leave each other alone. That is until five years ago when Kevin chose his future in Exy over making a life for himself with a couple. After a career-altering injury, he is forced to face the mistakes of his past and find that love that still waits for him.

tw: negative self image

So Dark the Hunger, So Sweet the Ruin by NikNak22 [Rated M, 7233 words, complete, 2024]

This is a story about a boy, a monster, and a curse. It is about a sun, a moon, and some stars. It is about longing, words unspoken, and scars that never heal. It is about things scuttling around in the dark that should never be seen. It is about wanting something so badly that you would sacrifice everything to keep it safe. Even from yourself. Aka in a world where Kevin doesn't have a soul mark, what is the point of him falling in love?

tw: depression, tw: self esteem issues, tw: negative self talk, tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt

Haunting Spirits by fullyvisible [Rated T, 13637 words, complete, Daylight Savings Fest 2024]

Kevin's life is going wonderfully until the fifth anniversary of Riko's death catches him by surprise, and he realizes his happiness--and his sobriety--may be more precariously balanced than he had thought. Kevin is desperate to keep it together well enough to prevent anyone from noticing, but Jean and Jeremy know him better than most.

tw: alcoholism, tw: ptsd

Because, Despite, Still by codename_adler [Rated T, 11047 words, complete, Daylight Savings Fest 2024, locked]

"No matter what Jeremy thought he knew, no matter his meticulous observations and incessant pleas for Kevin to come and fix Jean, Kevin could see plainly that perhaps he should not have trusted the USC Captain on that one. Every time you show up on TV or any of us talk about you, he shuts his eyes for a few seconds. Like… Like he’s looking for you, inside himself. There’s nothing… There’s nothing else I can give him. I swear to you Kevin, I would if I did. I’m well aware this is most certainly going to get uglier before it gets better, but that’s a knife I can’t remove myself. Only you, Kevin. Only you. Please come home to him."

tw: implied/referenced abuse

NB: you can find a link to a playlist for this fic on the author’s tumblr post

The "Ex" Protocol by KweenDay [Rated M, 14151 words, complete, Daylight Savings Fest 2024, locked]

Jeremy has heard about Jean's high school boyfriend, Kevin, of course, but he's not jealous. He doesn't get jealous over exes. Except... he didn't know ex-Kevin was THE Kevin Day, Exy royalty extraordinaire. And no, he's still not jealous... or obsessed with him. So what if he keeps finding a way for the three of them to be in the same room time and again? It's for research! Obviously.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced cult membership

In The Middle by KweenDay [Rated E, 6894 words, complete, 2024, locked]

Jean has always looked at his life in two segments - the one when he loved Kevin Day and both, pleasure and pain, were inextricably linked; and the one when he loved Jeremy Knox and he learned that loving someone could come without the threat of pain looming over his head. But in the past few months, both of those segments are bleeding into each other. The shadows of the past mixing with his present, and Jean thinks maybe this is a whole new chapter. Something different. Something good.

tw: explicit sexual content

Break the Ice by noNic02 [Rated E, 25396 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2024]

Things are finally looking up for Jeremy Knox. He moved to a new city, he likes his university program, his roommates are great (mostly), and he started hooking up with one very attractive Jean Moreau. There's really only one problem - Jean's roommate hates him.

tw: explicit sexual content, tw: scars, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Tell me where it hurts most by xxhearttommo [Rated T, 1828 words, complete, 2024]

Jeremy is on a date with his boyfriends when he answers a call from his mother and finds out his father has passed away. Jeremy is hurting. Jean and Kevin help him get himself together and go through a rough patch.

tw: death of a parent

suneater by REDRAGEOUSED [Not Rated, 11371 words, incomplete, last updated Jan 2024]

Jeremy reaches over and messes with Kevin’s hair, nails scratching his scalp lightly, and he leans into it hard, barely noticing it when he turns to whisper to Jean that “they should probably get him home.” Then the car is starting and Jeremy’s hand pulls back and this time, this time Kevin holds back the whine, but he’s still feeling fucking ridiculous because what grown man enjoys being pet. Kevin is not built for this, he is not built for affection and soft touches, he is built to be hit and bruised and pushed to his limits so this is just all fucking wrong. kevin day is desperate and fucked up and everything wrong with the world. he's not sure how they haven't realized yet.

tw: implied/referenced eating disorders, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse

through numb lips by REDRAGEOUSED [Not Rated, 2494 words, complete, 2024]

Kevin isn’t really sure why they’re whispering, but given the way he has to swallow, thick and heavy, to answer, he thinks it's probably for the best. He says “I think- I think I’m high.” He doesn’t know why he says it like that, but then Jean, vaguely somewhere up laughs, and he’s glad he did. kevin day gets high & gives the best blowjob of his life

tw: explicit sexual content, tw: recreational drug use

Lagom by NikNak22 [Rated E, 19399 words, complete, 2023]

When his kingdom falls, Prince Kevin Day is ripped from his golden cage and thrust into reality. With no skills to speak of and his title gone, he has to work long and hard to learn how to survive. It is only through the grace of his teachers (or captors or liberators, depending on how one looks at it) that he has succeeded, allowing him a kind of freedom and self-sufficiency he's never known. Together, Jeremy, Jean, and Kevin form a tenuous bond of loyalty and obligation, allowing them to co-exist peacefully. It is a partnership built on mutual understanding and respect. One with clear lines and boundaries. One that reminds Kevin daily of his place. Until one day, it all starts to unravel.

tw: explicit sexual content, tw: self esteem issues

The Love We Unravel by fullyvisible [Rated T, 10049 words, complete, 2023]

Jeremy deserves a comfortable, safe life; Jean knows he can't give it to him - and neither can Kevin. But they don't consider whether Jeremy thinks they're a risk worth taking. Inspired by Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift.

Birthday Wishes by fullyvisible [Rated T, 2595 words, complete, 2023]

It's Jean's birthday, and he expects to spend it alone - which would be fine, if he hadn't gotten so used to spending his time with Jeremy and Kevin.

Beach Trip by fullyvisible [Rated T, 4592 words, complete, 2022]

When Jeremy finds out Kevin and Jean have never been to the beach, he decides to take them for a day in the sand, sun, and waves.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced scars

Optimiste by mitigates [Rated M, 28838 words, complete, 2022]

“Riko is- is dead. I am- I am- I am alive-” Jean sucked in a gasping breath that made his chest ache with the force of it. He gripped Kevin’s collar until his breaths calmed into a slow aftershock. A soft gasp in the doorway revealed Jeremy’s presence. Jean turned on him, eyes flashing. He said the words harshly in French, “This does not concern you!” - or - Jean loses his memories after an accident. In his mind, he's barely survived Riko's last beating, Kevin left him alone at the Nest, and Jeremy is nothing more than a strange captain from another team.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: major character injury, tw: nightmares

can you show me how to make it true? by Flowerparrish [Rated E, 11071 words, complete, 2021, locked]

It’s not that Kevin and Jean don’t text. But one day, Kevin gets the text.

tw: implied/referenced alcohol abuse

doomsday by erosandhades [Rated T, 4810 words, complete, 2021]

He remembered every drink Kevin had thrown at him, then the shots, then moving to the next party, then Jean. He remembered thinking “fuck it”. He remembered doing three more shots with Kevin and two with Jean. Now, he didn’t remember how he got there. Or that tweet "one time at a party i kissed someone's girlfriend and to make sure he wasn't mad about it i just kissed him too... i blacked out and woke up to a text in a groupchat with both of them that said "did you make it home safe baby? <3"' but make it Kerejean.

One, two princes kneel before you by moonqueerdom [Rated T, 10084 words, complete, 2021]

Once upon a time, on a cold, dark night in the Central Court of Arcane, the annual winter masked ball was held. Faeries danced majestically all over the place, for the song being played by a charming group of faeries was enchanted (more literally than not) and the folk wouldn't miss the opportunity to celebrate the solstice. The winter flowers were blooming inside the castle with all the magic bursting from the Land and from the folk, and snow was falling outside the transparent plasma-gloss walls. And, last but not least, two princes and a guard were about to meet among all those partying people. A fairy tale about three faeries who meet at a masquerade ball and accidentally start a new folklore. And they're a chaotic mess.

Ask me to kneel by moonqueerdom [Rated E, 15404 words, complete, 2020]

Jeremy Knox meets Jean Moreau and Kevin Day in a BDSM club after some time without seeing them and finds that they have quite a Dom/sub dynamic that interests him immediately

tw: explicit sexual content

Stuck With U by moonqueerdom [Rated M, 21198 words, complete, 2020]

Jeremy and Jean go to Denver and stay at Kevin's apartment, but then the quarantine starts and they are forced to spend much more time than they expected in the city. And at Kevin's apartment.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: anxiety, tw: implied/referenced suicide, tw: alcohol abuse

Art

cuddly kerejean by @ohsleepie on X

cold weather is better if you have two boyfriends to be your personal heaters🧡❤️💛 by @princesoleil29

highkey in love w them ? by @redrageoused

I’m supposed to be working but I needed everyone to see my vision by @thepriceofsurvival

Hockey is rotting my brain , but so is Kerejean by @jeremy-knoxs-on-wood

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bad-and-drawn-that-way · 10 months ago

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Electric Love - Full Chapter

Want early chapters? Read on Ao3!

Chapter 3: What's in a Deal?

Link to Chapter 1

Notes: Support me by reading on Ao3! Kudos and comments help motivate me to see multi-chapter fics through to the end! I'll be posting announcements for the updates here. Chapters will come out on Ao3 BEFORE tumblr.

Word Count: 5628

Tag List: @sle3pyh3ad2

The extermination was coming in six months.

News spread immediately after the Princess of Hell met with the angels and to say Hell was freaking out was an understatement. For the first few weeks after the announcement, you avoided going outside as much as possible. No one was in their right mind and the more you kept your head down in your little cloaked observatory, the better.

Baxter really had been a game changer when it came to your living situation. You’d put in a lot of hard work fixing up the abandoned place and it looked pretty nice. Too nice for the dark corner of the Pride Ring you were in. He’d given you a cloaking device that made the observatory look as shit and abandoned as the rest of the dead neighborhood while the inside was in comfortable condition.

Even with the system in place, you slept with one eye open as you noticed more sinners slink into the area. Due to the recent news, it seemed some were considering using the district as a potential hideout for the upcoming extermination. Everyone was on edge and nothing felt safe.

Despite this, you had a life to live. Everyone did. Which is why after a while, things went back to normal. You buried yourself in your work to avoid dwelling on the anxiety of the shitty afterlife you were dealt and that was that. Work wasn’t the only thing occupying your attention either.

For the first couple of weeks, since Vox had gracelessly stumbled into your life, there was silence. Not wanting to get anyone’s hopes up, you kept your mouth shut and didn’t tell anyone about the deal you had made. Even with the protection of the deal, you didn’t doubt that someone as powerful as an Overlord could easily double-cross someone like you.

But then it happened. First, it was just one of your friends texting the group chat you were in that they were free of their contract. You’d all hopped on a group call and planned a celebration while she happily cried uncontrollably. She had no other explanation for Valentino’s change in heart other than him telling her that he simply got bored of her services and didn’t want to waste the studio slots on her. While that comment did bruise her ego a bit, she was too relieved to care.

Then it hit all at once. Everyone on the list was suddenly blowing up your phone with the news that they’d been released from their contracts and could start a new afterlife with their newfound freedom. Apparently, Valentino had covered up the entire thing by saying it was a quality cull for the sake of his image. Only a few people took the time to wonder if there was something more to the whole thing. Especially since some of the sinners he released were fairly popular for their work.

The only time you left your home for anything other than basic errands was the night you all gathered at a club and celebrated over the weekend. It was one of the craziest parties you’d ever been to, filled with drugs, sex, and a lot of happy crying.

You thought that was the end of it. Life would go back to normal aside from the growing political tensions between Heaven and Hell. You would stay cooped up and work your ass off on putting together your game and keep to yourself aside from the occasional night on the town with friends. So you personally thought your disbelief was entirely warranted when your day was interrupted by a certain overlord knocking on your front door.

Vox tapped his foot impatiently as he looked around the neighborhood. The place was a piece of shit. It wasn’t like anyone hiding out here would be stupid enough to attack someone with his reputation, but he still felt unsettled as he knocked again and waited for you to let him in. He wasn’t in the mood to repeat what happened the last time he barged in unannounced.

The sound of you crashing about behind the large double doors could be heard. It took a moment before you finally appeared, opening the door with disheveled hair and a bathrobe lazily hanging off of one shoulder, barely revealing your pajamas underneath.

"Vox," you breathe before you chuckle awkwardly. "I'd say you should have called first, but you don't have my number."

"Technically I could if I looked hard enough," Vox chuckled as he looked at the disheveled state you were in. “But is it really so surprising that I’d check in after finishing the last of our little deal?”

"Kinda, yeah," you shake your head as you step back to let him in. You were immediately skeptical. There was no way Vox came all the way to such a sketchy corner of Hell just to be told he did a good job. He wanted something and you weren’t too keen on having that discussion out in the open. The faint shimmer of a cloaking barrier could be seen in the doorway. "Come on in."

The overlord stepped inside, his eyes flicking around the room and taking in everything that he could. He’d only seen the small office tucked in the back of the observatory the last time he was here. There was a big circular opening with a broken-down telescope that connected to the dome-like ceiling in the middle of the room. A desk covered with papers was pushed up against the side of the telescope and you’d split the large space into three areas in an attempt to refashion the space for living purposes.

There was a kitchen made out of plug-in appliances and mismatched furniture on the left. Vox cringed as he saw the power cords working overtime just to keep everything running. The telescope seemed to act as a secondary office for you and you had a couch with a TV setup not too far from it to imitate a living room space. There were also dozens of boxes filled with junk that he had to imagine originally belonged to the observatory and you just never got around to disposing of properly.

"Can I get you anything?" You say as you step into the main space after closing and bolting the doors behind you. Annoyed that your bathrobe keeps slipping off of your shoulder, you fight with it for a moment before foregoing it entirely and tossing it over a tower of books.

"Coffee, if you have it," Vox replied as he followed you into the small living room area. “The amount of shit I’ve had to take care of every since the bimbo leading Hell fucked us all over has left me running on caffeine for the past month.”

He didn't mind the sight of books being stacked up on top of each other as he glanced around, taking in the area. Though the place wasn't the best-looking, it was evident that you had put a lot of work into making it livable. Considering how it looked on the outside, he could only imagine the state the place was in back when you found it.

You start prepping a fresh pot of coffee, wanting some for yourself as well. "So, my friends texted me," you say.

You turn and lean against the counter to look at him properly while the kitchen appliance worked its magic. "They all told me the same thing. How Valentino cut their contracts, saying he was doing quality control for the studio out of the blue. You kept your end of the deal."

"Yes, I did. But that's not the only reason I've come here," Vox murmured as he idly looked at some of the papers on the coffee table in the corner. "I couldn’t help but be intrigued by your… connections.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him as you watch him put down a paper that doesn’t keep his attention. “What about them?”

“At first, I didn’t care too much about your friends,” Vox admitted. “But I couldn’t help but shake the image of you with Angel Dust. So I did some digging and I’m just going to cut to the point. You’ve been to that hotel the princess has been running, haven’t you?”

You cross your arms, studying him carefully, “Well, aren’t you quite the stalker?”

“I like knowing things,” Vox waved you off with a frown. “But for good reason. It’s true, right?”

“It is,” you shrug, not seeing a reason to hide it. “At first, I just went to visit Angel. Helped him move in and stuff like that. The group there grew on me and I help out around the hotel sometimes if Angel and I aren’t already doing something else.”

Vox grins and you immediately catch on to his line of thought. "I'll say it now, don't get your hopes up," you warn him as the coffee pot beeps behind you. "I care for Charlie and Angel Dust a lot. I helped you against Valentino, but I won't betray the hotel."

"I’m not stupid,” Vox chuckles. “You’re a fool if you think that I don't already know you wouldn't betray them." The overlord scoffed as he watched you turn to search the cupboards for mugs.

"You're far too compassionate for your own good, little drama queen,” Vox said with a roll of his eyes as he walked over to you. “Which is why you're rather easy to read. You claim you don’t care about the power struggles in Hell, but in the same breath, you helped me against Valentino… That tells me that you may be willing to strike up another deal."

Your fingers freeze just as you’re about to pluck a mug from the shelf. You knew it was coming and yet, it still caught you off guard. "...What did you have in mind?"

"You see, my dear old rival Alastor has been up to something and I don’t know what. He's getting a bit too close to little Miss Morningstar for my own comfort, and it's becoming… rather bothersome." Vox murmured as he watched you idly. "Though that's just the surface; there is also the fact that I'd like to be able to keep a constant eye on him. As you well know, Alastor enjoys playing with his cards close to his chest..."

“So what?” You frown as you pour the coffee into the mismatched mugs. “You want me to spy on Alastor?”

“Precisely,” Vox grins. He’d chosen someone too naive and careless the last time he attempted to get eyes on the inside of the hotel. You met the requirements Velvette had clearly laid out and unlike the snake, you had proper potential. Still stupid in your own ways, but not like the previous dumbass he’d tried to use for this particular purpose.

"And why would I do that?" You frown. "You've already played the card you had with me. There’s nothing else I could possibly want from you.”

"Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure," Vox smirked as he took one of the mugs. "I’d like to think our last little exchange was rather beneficial for us both. I’m nothing if not resourceful and everyone has their price.”

"And you think you know mine?" You frown, pulling open your fridge and grabbing the ingredients to turn your bitter black coffee into a mocha. The fact that Vox was drinking his black disgusted you, but you supposed when he needed that much coffee to get by, he didn’t have the time to be picky. "Even if I were to agree to this deal, it'd come with a lot of conditions. I meant it when I said I won't compromise the hotel."

"I’d expect nothing less,” Vox shrugged as he took a sip. “And we’ll get to that part next. Right now, you want to know what’s in it for you. Any smart demon wouldn’t bother with a deal that didn’t benefit them in some way and I’ve got just the thing.”

You’re completely unimpressed by the shift into a sales pitch, but say nothing as you mix chocolate powder and raspberry syrup into your drink.

“I know that you have rather a deep love for your work and your creations, so if you were to help me keep an eye on Alastor... I’m happy to give you what you want more than anything,” Vox grinned as he prepared to offer you what he was thoroughly convinced was the key to pulling you under his wing of control.

“More than just money, more than that Radio Demon could ever offer you… I’m willing to give you your very own company. A company that would allow you to complete whatever project your heart desires with the full financial support of a top-tier overlord in Hell.”

Vox smirked as he watched your movements slow to a stop throughout his sales pitch. “Does that sound interesting to you, little drama queen?"

He knew he had you. There was no way he didn’t. He’d done his research and saw how low your statistics were. You’d posted art and various other types of content on your social media and you had a following, but it wasn’t large. Especially not compared to what he knew it could be. The game you were working on was clearly meant to be your big debut into the industry, but even without that, the quality of your work was nothing to scoff at. With the power and control he was offering you, your numbers would skyrocket. You’d no longer be a team of one and could bring your visions to life at a much higher speed with far more efficiency than you could dream of on your own.

Your hesitation speaks volumes and he’s just waiting smugly for you to take the bait. However, instead, you just smile softly and shake your head. "You're going to think I'm crazy, but I'll actually pass on that."

There’s a beat of silence as Vox replays your answer in his head to make sure he heard you right. He nearly dropped the mug in his hands as he comprehended that you genuinely just turned him down.

"You're… joking, right?" Vox exclaimed in disbelief, as he set down the mug on the counter. "You're going to pass up on being the owner of your very own company with infinite financing and control?”

"Yup," you say with a pop for emphasis. "My content is my heart and soul. It's my passion. It has to be built up from my hard work, my dreams, and my well-intentioned connections. If I let someone else just hand it all to me on a silver platter, it wouldn’t be the same at all."

"You're absolutely insane," Vox muttered, shaking his head as he questioned your sanity entirely. "You’re seriously refusing my deal? You refuse infinite fucking funding?! All because of what? Pride?”

"Yeah," you said easily with a relaxed grin as you went back to stirring your drink like you hadn’t just casually declined all the power and money to make your dreams come true.

The overlord took a deep steadying breath as he tried to process the absolute stupidity of your decision. There wasn’t a single sinner in Hell that would pass up on a deal like this, and you just... turned it down in favor of hard work and dedication. The insane stubbornness of your choice left him speechless.

"That being said," you hum thought thoughtfully. "I do think you have something else that I'd be willing to trade for."

The overlord's attention snaps back to you, looking over you skeptically. "Oh, well now I'm curious... What could you possibly want more than an entire goddamn company?"

"It’s something you actually brought up during our last deal,” you say as you sip your drink and lean back against the counter. “I know Valentino would never release Angel Dust's contract willingly," you start carefully. "So instead, I want you to distract Valentino. For as long as I uphold my end of the deal regarding Alastor, you will do everything you can to protect Angel Dust from Valentino's anger and abuse.”

"Protect Angel Dust from Valentino's abuse..." Vox murmured as he shifted back. It wasn’t an easy request. In fact, Vox wondered if it was even possible. He was already running scenarios and contradictions over in his mind as he considered the possibilities. "And… how would you want me to go about doing that?"

"Subtly," you sigh. "If you're too direct, it could just make Valentino angrier and more violent with Angel. Butter up Valentino, distract him, send other sinners his way, whatever it takes. Just… lessen the damage and keep Valentino from catching on.”

"Hmm... that is quite a fascinating challenge you've given me…” Vox murmured as he ran his thumb along his chin. “But, I think I can manage.”

If anything, your proposition intrigued him. Rather than getting to just hand you money and power, which he had plenty of, you were putting him in just as sticky of a situation as the one he wanted to put you in. It set the playing field on equal ground. Neither of you were asking the other to completely betray their factions, but you were both putting each other at high risk.

"I'll keep tabs on Alastor, just like you want,” you frown. As much as you hated the idea of doing it, Alastor was one of the only people at the hotel you had no real connection with. He’d never seemed interested in what you had to offer, so he didn’t waste his time on you. Likewise, you were too focused on Angel and Charlie to pay him much mind either.

“However,” you clarify. “I'll only relay the information I discover of his personal activities. Anything involved with the hotel or Charlie is off-limits."

"Hm..." Vox murmured, considering the terms of the deal. "Very well then, I'll agree to these terms. I may not be a fan of the hotel, but ultimately I don’t care about it half as much as I do Alastor. I want to know what he’s trying to gain from the hotel, but anything involving the princess’s little pet project doesn’t particularly interest me anyway.”

You pause, thinking hard before nodding. "One more condition. If Alastor catches me and kills me for what I'm doing for you, you have to keep protecting Angel Dust from Valentino until whatever you had planned for lessening Valentino’s influence is underway.”

"Hmm..." The overlord murmured as he thought for a moment before he slowly nodded. "Very well, I accept these terms. I’ll protect Angel Dust until I take Valentino down for my own schemes. Do you have anything else to add before we conclude this deal?"

You shake your head, "I'm guessing you'll want to make at least one other deal with me one day. Knowing that, you'd be foolish to try to loophole or double-cross me with this deal. So I think we're good to go."

"I think you have a rather good understanding of me, little drama queen." The overlord grinned. Every time he thought he knew what to expect, you managed to pull the rug out from under him. Rather than being annoyed by the change in his original plans for this deal, he was excited and curious to see what other surprises could come from being involved with you. "Alright then... with that being said, we should seal our deal."

Your magic flares, as the familiar purple mist flows gently around you. You hold out your hand, ready to seal the deal. For the protection of your friend, you were willing to betray Alastor. You may not have hated him like Vox did, but you were somewhat wary of him. The way he always seemed like he was hiding ill intentions behind his permanent grin never settled well with you. There had been times you wondered yourself what he wanted from Charlie and while you weren’t as close to the princess as you were with Angel, you could tell if things kept going the way they were, you’d care for her just as much as any of your other friends. With that in mind, this was a risk you were willing to take.

The overlord's own magic flared to life, blue electricity filling the air. Your hands connected and the mist and sparks swirled around each other in a bright flash before dissipating entirely.

You slowly pull back, flexing your hand as you feel the sparks from his magic still tingling your skin. "So that's that," you hum.

"Indeed it is," The overlord murmured as he let out a quiet sigh of relief. "Our deal is sealed. There’s no going back now. You realize that, correct?"

"I know," you say softly as you accept the weight of knowing there was a good chance if you got caught, Alastor would broadcast your slow and gruesome murder on the radio for all of Hell to hear. "At least if shit goes south, you'll find out pretty quickly," you chuckle dryly, cringing at the thought.

There was a faint hint of a smirk that appeared on the overlord's face as he considered your words. "Well, if nothing else, you’ve earned my respect. You’re fully aware of what’s at stake, yet you agreed to the deal anyway. You are either insane... or extremely brave."

"Why not both?" You chuckle. You were putting your life at risk, and you had rejected his offer of riches and power, opting for the protection of a friend instead. To say your priorities were skewed would be an understatement to most sinners.

"The longer this little game of ours goes on, the more I want to pull you into the world of Hell’s politics," The overlord murmured with a smirk. "I’ve seen your video game work and I won’t deny it has potential, but I think you underestimate your potential for something more.”

You cringe, sticking your tongue out as if the very thought of it left a bad taste in your mouth. “Pass. I’ll leave the evil overlording to you and your stupid bow tie.”

“Fuck you, it’s classy,” Vox snickered as he shook his head. “Plus, how much room do you have to talk when I haven’t seen you wear proper clothing since we’ve met?”

“Fuck you,” you say playfully with a grin. “We’ve only met twice and both times you’ve shown up without warning to my home. Are you seriously telling me you lounge about in your time off in that getup?”

“Bold of you to assume I have time off,” Vox chuckled. “Now... it seems that we both have our parts to play in this deal. You’ll keep tabs on Alastor, and I’ll protect Angel Dust from Valentino when I have the opportunity to do so. I’m around often enough, but it may take a moment for me to get the hang of things. Do you have any other thoughts you wish to add before we part ways?"

You try not to show that you're disappointed in how quickly the meeting is ending. It was true that someone like Vox didn’t exactly have the time to spare to chat with you. It’s not like you were friends or anything. Just convenient dealmakers. But you’d be lying if you didn’t say you found your interactions to be fun despite the risk that came with them.

"How do you want me to get ahold of you if I learn anything about Alastor?" You ask.

Your phone suddenly vibrates in your pocket and you jump with a startled yelp, spilling some of your drink on your shirt. Vox laughs as you grumble and lightly kick at his shin. When you pull out your phone, his face is mocking you from the screen.

“I have access to every device with a screen in all of Hell,” Vox smirked as you tried to swipe away his face to no avail. “I’ve put my number in your phone and yours is now in mine. I have access to anything on your device I want. Your notes, your texts, your camera, your microphone. I can see anything I want, whenever I want. It shouldn’t be too hard to get my attention.”

You huff, crossing your arms after you shove the phone back into your pocket. "Stalker."

The overlord's grin narrowed. "I prefer to think of it as surveillance. But if you prefer to think of it as stalking, it's up to you."

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a melodramatic sigh, "No more reading fanfiction on my phone in the shower for me."

The overlord couldn't help but laugh at your comment. "I wouldn’t necessarily complain.”

Your face feels like someone just set you on fire and Vox smirks as he mentally checks another point in his favor in the little game of back-and-forth between the two of you. It was extremely amusing for him to see how the occasional little comment here and there threw you off your game so easily. He was used to all sorts of depraved commentary from Valentino and Velvette’s sass was unmatched. Pulling reactions out of you so easily was delightfully entertaining.

Acting like he hadn’t just casually dropped such a comment, Vox switched back to a more businesslike demeanor as he added. “Just know that I will be checking in every now and then, regardless of how often I hear from you. You’ll have to start going to the hotel more as well and I’ll know where you are from now on too.”

Shaking off your embarrassment, you give a mock salute with two of your fingers as you make a note of the conditions of your deal, "Yes Sir, Mr. Stalker, Sir."

The overlord smirked slightly back at you before he chuckled. "Well, little drama queen, it looks like our business with one another has concluded. I’ll keep in touch."

----

It was a while before you finally had a substantial update for Vox. Neither of you were too surprised that it would take time before you could naturally find anything of use. Still, it left you feeling unsettled not having anything to offer. You didn’t want to risk Vox getting fed up with your lack of results and calling the deal off. Especially after the shit show that happened at Valentino’s studio when Charlie tried to get time off for Angel. But now you finally had something.

Charlie had been freaking out as the clock whittled down the time until the next extermination. So much so, that she had put aside her raging daddy issues long enough to invite her father to the hotel. When she asked if you’d come to the hotel to provide emotional support and help in case things went south, you happily agreed. You’d been coming by more often and as you suspected, you ended up growing even more attached to the hotel and the rag tag team keeping it together.

Every time you visited, you had to push down the dark, squirming guilt that behind every laugh, every smile, every mishap, was an ulterior motive. You were always watching Alastor out of the corner of your eye. Waiting for something, anything that could be of use to Vox that didn’t involve the hotel.

Between the chaos of Lucifer setting off something competitive in Alastor, the unexpected appearance of Mimzy, and the chaos that came with Charlie’s desperate attempts to prove her point to her dad, there was finally a crack in Alastor’s carefully composed disposition.

While everyone was preoccupied dealing with their own slice of the chaos, you ducked into one of the empty rooms and pulled out your phone. Vox hadn’t been kidding how easy it was to get ahold of him. All it took was a single text with nothing more than his name and the little bubbles that showed he was typing immediately let you know that you had his attention.

Vox: What is it? Did you discover something of note regarding Alastor?

Y/N: I did. It seems like he's under a contract with someone. I don't know who or what the details are, but I overheard him talking in the hall, and it sounds like someone else might own Alastor's soul.

The overlord's eyes narrowed as he read your text. The idea of someone having a contract with Alastor intrigued him, as it was the potential to have a certain level of control over the radio demon.

Vox: I see... and was there any indication as to who they were?

Y/N: He's too tight-lipped to let something like that slip. But honestly? My bets are on Lilith. She disappeared at the same time he did, and she’s of higher status.

Vox paused as he read the text and considered your words. Valentino and Velvette were bitching about something he hadn’t been paying attention to as he slipped out of the room and rolled the possibilities over in his mind. His heart was racing and he could feel the static sparks dancing across his skin. He finally had something.

The big unanswered question that had been haunting him for so long came with no hints, no arrows pointing him in a direction that could finally give him the answers he was owed. But now? Even if the information you’d given him was circumstantial, it was something. After seven fucking years of having nothing, there was finally a straw for him to grasp at.

Vox: I see where you are coming from. Lilith or someone of her caliber would have something of interest worthy of a deal. The real question is what could be worth a deal like that to Alastor? And what did he offer in exchange?

Vox: This is good. Like really fucking good. If you find out anything else, let me know.

You send him a little thumbs-up emoji before asking,

Y/n: Have you been protecting Angel Dust?

All Vox wanted to do was retreat to his surveillance room and get to work on digging up what he could with this new lead you’d given him. He was already marching his way through the penthouse shared between him and the other Vees as he typed.

Vox: It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve been ensuring that Angel Dust has received a very minimum level of abuse from Valentino. So, yes, I have been protecting his soul for you little drama queen. It is our deal, after all.

Y/N: Stop calling me that >:((((

Y/N: And thank you…

Vox barked out a laugh at your irritated response. He hadn’t realized he’d given you a nickname, but now that he knew it bothered you he would be sure to double down. He ignored Velvette asking him where he was off to in such a rush and simply waved off Valentino with promises of updating them later as he stepped onto the pad that’d take him down to his lair.

He was too glued to his phone to notice the look of bewilderment the Vee’s exchanged from where they sat on the couch. They’d only seen him so attached to his phone when he was in a foul mood from dealing with work shit. They’d never seen him with such a downright giddy grin like the one he was unknowingly wearing as he started a call on your phone without warning.

Not expecting the call, you jumped with a startled gasp as his face suddenly flooded your screen.

“Shit, fuck- motherfucker!” you swore under your breath as you grabbed at your phone in the air, trying not to drop it.

Vox laughed as you tumbled with the device and if you weren’t broke as hell, you would have considered chucking it out the window.

“Vox!” you hiss quietly as you step further into the empty hotel room and away from the door where anyone in the hall could hear you. “You can’t just hack into my phone and pop up without warning when I’m at the hotel! What if I wasn’t alone?”

“I tapped into the microphone and didn’t hear anyone else,” Vox rolled his eyes with a smug grin as he made his way to his surveillance setup. “I’m not that stupid, drama queen.”

You groaned, hating the corny nickname even more as you heard him say it out loud. “My point still stands, you shitty stalker.”

“You’ll learn to love it,” Vox chuckled as he sat in his dark office chair and swiveled around to start doing some research on his computer. “Now then, where exactly did you hear about this contract Alastor may have?”

"One of his old friends came to the hotel to escape some loan sharks,” you say slowly as you sit down on the bed. You take your time, trying to consider what you believed was safe to tell Vox without giving too much away. “I overheard someone telling him what to do regarding her, and it was brought up during the argument. They didn't know I was nearby."

Vox hummed as he started looking into the disappearance of Lilith and the events leading up to it. "Interesting... very interesting indeed. So Alastor may have made a deal with Lilith before they both went off the radar… If not her, then someone of similar status…”

You nodded and hummed along as he began to go down the rabbit hole of research and theories. The sound of Charlie and Lucifer having a heartfelt showtune moment down in the lobby softly reverberated through the walls of the hotel and you couldn’t help but smile as you listened to Vox’s excitement as he followed the lead.

Now if only you had noticed the shadow in the corner…

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #electric love series

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