#let me hold him god please i just want to cherish him

[softfem-dom]

martin riggs appreciation post because he doesn't get the love he deserves😤

HE IS SO FUCKING CUNTY AND FOR WHAT??? god it looks like i'm the only enjoyer of the "suicidal, considered a danger to others, cop that is just trying to find a reason to not kill myself"

BARK BARK BARK LOOK AT THAT POSE??? THE HIPS?? THE WAY HE'S HOLDING THE GUN??? DAMN SIR.

he's the literal

he's the literal walking definition of "I'm not a violent dog, I don't know why I bite.." I'M FERAL FOR HIM. LET ME AT HIM. LET ME HOLD HIM LET ME KISS HIM LET ME PRAISE HIM LET ME HUG HIM LET ME LOVE HIM LET ME MAKE TENDER LOVE TO HIM LET ME RUN MY FINGERS THROUGH HIS STUPID MULLETY CURLS JUST LET ME FEED HIM LOVE ON A SILVER SPOON PLEASE GOD PLEASEEE

[nemesyaaa]

losing my religion // dark!cult leader!rafe x innocent!reader

summary ; god loves you but not enough to save you.

warnings : mentions of religions. manipulation. cult. smut. corruption kink. small town church trope. religious trauma. purity/innocence kink. slight of god complex. first time. dark/soft!rafe. mentions of murder. sweet lamb trope. coercion. smoking. little age gap. heaven goal. mentions of size kink. glorification. be careful with the warnings. minors DNI.

author's note : it's around 5k words. pfiouuuu. televangelism by ethel cain playing in the background please.

“ father, will i go to heaven ? ”

“ father, will i be this good all my life ? ”

“ father, where was god when i thought he was there ? ”

“ father, did god let me sin on purpose ? ”

you lived in a small remote village, the kind of town where everyone knew each other, and where there were no secrets. well, you thought there were no secrets because everyone here was a true and firm believer. all the locals lived for god. and you would do anything for him and for your ticket to heaven. you had been baptized as a baby and had grown up as a child of the lord, and his most faithful angel. you have acted so well since your childhood and were sure that your death will be a pleasant trip to paradise.

you went to church every day because you always had something to say to god, to ask him, to make him understand. you prayed to speak to him, for him to see you, for him to hear you, for him to know how grateful you were for the life he had given you. your parents had always recommended that you cherish your existence, but also everything that happened to you, the misfortunes as well as the pleasures. life was neither all rosy, nor all white, nor gray or black. you were the only person to give it color. so your religious sister told you that you just needed to know how to paint, but that sometimes you would fail, you would fail but that it didn't matter. because you will make a masterpiece again sooner or later.

you were a devoted child, a faithful lamb with no anger inside, but above all full of love. you gave it to everyone when god had taught you and commanded you to share it as much as possible, that it was this feeling that would bring peace on earth. and who did not want peace, who did not want to please his creator? you were a good girl, so sweet and innocent, the kind sweetheart of the town, incapable of harm or sin, always dressed in your white dress and your little black shoes. you wear everything that can please god. you walked through the church hallway to join the choir, holding the candles. the world had his eyes on you, but especially this tall man lodged in the dark corner.

this man was not god and you knew it, because god would never look at you that way.

you wouldn't know how to describe this gaze on you, but it made you uncomfortable. you continued to move forward, holding the flame preciously against you. you sang with your angelic voice, glory to the almighty, glory to the one who made your existence so beautiful, to bring your back to life every time you felt, and this guy was still staring at you like you were the only person that existed, like the world had taken away the entire universe except you.

maybe you were an angel. after all, you were among the Lord's faithful.

you had never dated a man in your life. your parents and god forbid you, because you needed to stay pure for the good one. you had to remain virgin and clean for your future husband. you were forbidden to look at them, touch them or talk to them except for church activities. you were so loved by god so you had no right to sin, no fucking right to betray him. you had to remain as intact as the mother of everyone, as virgin mary.

you were as holy as the bible, the treasure of the creator. you were devoted like a lamb to his owner, as the followers to the cult leader.

you had never experienced something like touching yourself, making yourself feel good, and anything that included carnal pleasures. you didn't know about pornography, sexuality and lust. you walked away from it as if it were the devil. you were unable to make your god mad, you were too scared for that.

you were faithful to the lord. you helped the people of the village, homeless, the destitute, poor children, the elderly, you helped the world become a better place even when it seemed to be turning against you.

at the end of the mass, everyone, the priest had sent you to collect the funds from the locals.

you were standing in front of the steps. people were always kind and smiling to you as you were collecting funds for the church.

and you had been waiting for this voice to come at you.

“do you really want to go to heaven ? ”

you turned to face the man from earlier, the one hidden in the benches. you answered him with the sweetest smile, and the most nervous look. "yes, i do everything to go there. am i not good enough ? "

“everything?” the stranger had laughed kindly, but it had offended you slightly with that soft giggle.

“ why are you laughing ? this is not funny. ”

“ slow down, baby. you're too pretty to get on your nerves. ” he had pulled out a cigarette.

“will you forget God for a second and be an angel to me ? ”

“ God is in my heart, is in me. i can't forget him, even for a second. he's the reason why i'm living. ”

“ be sweet, angel and light it for me. don't say no, your divine father is watching you, you don't want him to catch you refusing to help a stranger and be mad at you? ” you looked at him with strange open eyes but you accepted. because he was right.

you didn't know how to say no to people. God didn't teach you to say no. people needed to help the people.

you lit his cigarette, and during the whole process he looked at you, his glare scanned your face. you were staring at him, and saw your own silhouette in his eyes, your shadow dancing in the perfect blue of his pupils.

you felt the heat in your cheeks, the burn of his gaze on your skin. you were unwell. you didn't like this situation, the unsteady feeling, the stranger proximity.

when you met him, you felt like a sinner more than a believer.

but he smiled at you. the soft kind of smile that made you forget everything, that made you feel so dumb.

“would i go to heaven now?” you teased him with a small laugh to echo his words.

“not yet but i can help you if you want if you're serious about that.” he answered.

“ i'm serious. ” you were really curious, and he had your full attention. you knew it wasn't good to talk for that long with a man. especially, older. but you took the risk.

you should have stopped when he complimented you because your parents said that men who are nice to girls like you always have bad intentions. but there was also something so charming and bewitching about this man. the way he was adorable. you didn’t see the evil in him.

“i really want to go to heaven, i swear on my life, sir. ”

“ sir ? such a polite thing but i'm not that old, sweetheart. i'm tall, not too old. ”

“ anyways, i really want to go to heaven !! ”

“you already said it, doll. i think God is tired of hearing it now. he wants proof, you know. he needs to see how devoted you are to him. ”

“how can i prove it to him?”

"i know God. i talk to him every day. i am his ruler. do you know what that means? that i am the one who decides for him whether people go to heaven or not. i am his most loyal servant, so he trusts me.”

“are you really connected to God?”

"you are too. we all are but the difference is that i can take you to heaven. i promise you." he placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently , a tender and unique gesture that made you shyly smile. “i’m not an angel. not yet.”

"yes, i assure you. i knew it as soon as i saw you in that church. join me." he announced with a warm voice.

“you have always been divine, i never doubted it. you have to go to heaven, you understand? you can't behave so well, be so charitable and disappoint God? and you wouldn't dare doing it, don't you, pretty lamb ? because do you think he will forgive you ? no, sweetheart. you will be punished and rejected like every sinners. ”

“ you're wrong ! God loves me ! ”

“you don't understand. you must be perfect until the end, you must be a great god masterpiece, not his biggest failure. you can't just be the chorus of this choir, be the beautiful thing who holds the candles at mass, the kind soul who helps others. you can't be just that when i can offer you even better and absolutely everything you want. any of your wishes. join me and i will make all your wishes come true, i will make you the new face of the paradise. i will make God see you everywhere. ”

"it seems so unreal...i don't know..."

he had cut you. he didn't want to give you time to think, leaving room for the barrier of doubt."you have to join me, isn't that what you wanted? for me to find you? if you believe in god, you have to be a good girl, make the right choices. "

“okay….” you finally agreed.

he waited for you in his car, one hand on the steering wheel. and you joined him inside. there was so much euphoria in you. you felt like you were doing something so right, so you had this goofy smile on your face.

"does God think i'm a good believer ? i pray every day, i attend mass every time, i sing in the choir and in my rooms all the songs dedicated to him. i only have the Bible as a book and i read it all the time. i can't do anything wrong. i'm good, i promise, i'm good. ”

"is that true? you'll have to show me so I can tell."

“I’m going to pray for you too.” you added. “I pray for all the souls in this world.”

“oh yes my angel will pray for me. i want to hear your prayers, all your prayers about me. but not in front of me. "

“ why ? ”

“ seeing you bent on your knees for me will make me sin. i wish you could see the kind of temptation you are. ”

you had arrived in front of a mansion. you were so flustered and nervous. you didn't understand what you were doing in front of this place, and why he had brought you here. he took your hand, reassuring you with his touch, and guided you inside.

you were not alone. there were other people, women and men. all dressed slightly the same, as if there was a regulation outfit. the atmosphere was strange, a little sectarian. there was an organ playing in the background, and everyone was looking at you kindly so you tried to relax.

"don't be afraid. they're like you, they just want to go to heaven. can you understand?"

you nodded and he showed you around all the places. he even showed you a room and said it would be yours. she was pretty, absolutely perfect but she wasn't yours. not that of your house.

"I'm not going home?..."

"what do you mean? this is your home now. we're a family."

"a family? i have parents, they will worry…”

"i thought you wanted to be close to God. were they lies? you know, you shouldn't joke with religion, and with words. if you want to be a good little christian, if you want to go to heaven, it is to me, and only to me, that you must be devoted.”

"I...I...no, i promise! I'm sincere! i'm sorry, really, I'm sorry. " you now felt terrible. there were so many tears in your eyes, you couldn't even see the room clearly.

the man smiled before taking you in his arms. "it's nothing, you just need to be clearer with your words, okay? I'm your only savior, you don't need others.”

he had wiped the tears from your cheeks. “I have a gift for you…” he whispered and you found your smile again.

no one ever gave you gifts. it was so rare. “open it” he told you.

it was a dress. not the one you usually wore. “you have to put it on. don't you want to shine, shooting star ? ”

" now ? "

"now." his voice was a little firmer.

“i can’t change in front of you…” you admitted. "you're a man...and I'm a girl...it's sinful, it's like having sex! we have to get married to have that intimacy. "

he smiled and laughed. "you've never been naked in front of someone? you've never left this body in front of someone else?"

he had approached, slipping up behind you, towering over you with his height, his hands resting on the corners of your trembling shoulders.

“my sweet thing, it’s as if you’re begging me to corrupt you.”

“what do you mean?”

“that i must see this body.”

" Is it bad?"

“What would be bad, angel, would be to upset me.”

he had pulled the tab of your dress to lower it a little. there were shivers in your body. you felt like you were doing something wrong.

"you're not doing anything wrong. this is what god wants you to do. he told me."

" It's true ? "

“ only the truth. just now. i wouldn't dare lying to you, my sweet. ”

there was nothing you could refuse god. If it were his will, you would do anything.

"but I've never done anything like that? I always thought it was wrong, that I didn't have the right."

he pulled your dress down to the floor, your naked body revealed in the mirror. you could feel his gaze growing more intense as he took in everything you had shown him. "is my body okay? I mean, this is the first time anyone has seen it so..."

"sweetheart, I've never seen anything so beautiful. but I don't just have to see it to judge it, I have to touch it. will you let me ? "

“Lust is a sin.”

“do you want to know my name?”

you had just now realized that you didn't even know his identity. you nodded your head.

“rafe.” he spelled it. “ you must know my name to pray for me, but also to glorify me.”

“glorify ?”

"you must glorify me. salute me and worship me. these are the rules if you want to go to heaven. you must be devoted, I told you.."

" fine…”

he sat on the bed, and you moved closer but he stopped you.

"no, no. all this sweetness but no useful brain ? ” he mocked. “ to worship me, you must be on your knees. ” he said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“ treat me as the same way you treat your god, angel. because this is what i am to you. i want to see your legs bow down for me, i want to see them treading the ground up to me. i want to see that precious look at the same height of my knees, let me see that head lifted up to glory me. "

he had lit a cigarette, the fourth since you had spoken, and had smiled when you started walking on your knees towards him.

he pressed his hand against the growing bulge in his pants.

“open your mouth.” he commanded and you obeyed, and he slipped his cigarette between your lips. “don’t smoke it, hold it only. don't go against my rules. can i trust this dumb baby brain for once to not disappoint me ? ”

he had taken off his pants, with his boxers. and you turned your head, strongly ashamed by his action.

he mocked gently. “in your place, i would not look away, that would avoid unpleasant surprises when this thing will be buried inside your virgin cunt, sweetheart. ”

he had retrieved his cigarette, and turned your head towards him.

"I can't believe you've never seen one. you've been such a good girl to me. you've been waiting for me. "

“will god hate me?”

“how can i show it to you?”

"it's not god you have to fear, it's me, sweetheart because I'm the only one who will decide for you from now on. do you understand? I have to be sure that you are deserving."

“give me your hand. let me guide you...do you trust me? ”

“ i trust you, rafe. ”

he had positioned your hand on his cock which was already hard. you shivered. your hand was clumsy around his painfully boner. yet you had heard him let out a grunt.

his fingers moved with yours, accompanying you in his lewd movements. you had god in your head, heart and body but your fingers fisted around that thick dick made you warm and good. you hated that feeling, but you can't deny the pleasure. it was the first time. you weren't used to it. you moved back and forth with little confidence, while he kept your grip around his bulge. you followed his back and forth, pumping him with fragility. you weren't sure if it felt good but his muscles had tightened.

your fist slid over his length, your hand working massively. your touch was divine, he threw his head back. you could feel his abs twitching in synch.

“open those legs. let me see that sweet untouched pussy. i'm gonna take such good care of it. are you still trusting me ? ”

“ yes…”

you didn't want to. it flowed between your thighs, the wetness spurted in a mess on the floor. and you weren't sure if that was a good thing. you couldn't tell if it was pleasure or not. it was new to you.

“trust me, you don’t want to make me repeat that a second time. do you ? ”

and that was enough for you to bend to his will.

"you feel, baby ? the sweet mess between your legs ? don't hide from me. ”

you continued to masturbate him up and down. you turned him on so much that he already wanted to come in your hand. his cock twitched in your hold and his balls slapped repeatedly against his skin.

"does that make you feel good? do I need to do better? do you want me to put my lips on..."

he had cum on your face. and you stepped back in surprise. “let me clean you up…”

you came back to him thinking he was going to wipe you but he caught his seed with his fingers, and brought them to your mouth. “if you don’t want me to put them down your throat, you better lick them now.”

you lapped up every last bit of cum on his fingers until they turned white again. you knew he was serious when he threatened you. "that wasn't really a warning, I'll do it someday. I really want to use every part of your body. and you'll let me. yes ?”

“whatever you want...”

he smiled and stroked your hair. “you learn quickly.”

you didn’t really know why but his recognition made you happy. she had an impact on you. you needed, and sought, his validation. it promised you to be even closer to god, to show god that you were faithful to him.

you had this urgency to please rafe, to show him that you could be really good.

for rafe, you were another girl that he led into his cult, another lamb in the troop. you were perfect, you always had the profile. he knew it as soon as he saw you.

he had come to the church only to see you. he attended every mass and ceremony hoping to corrupt you. you were so innocent, so kind and so sweet, and above all, you were ready for anything.

you prayed every day and read the Bible. so you had a desire, a goal, a faith.

he had placed you on his legs, his hands caging your waist, wrapping each part of your hips. “I’m going to make you an angel.” he had said, rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet entrance.

“I’m going to go to heaven?”

"it's heaven that will beg for you to come to it, I can even say. but you still have to do one thing for me..."

“tell me. I’ll do anything.”

" good. i really want you to take that dick. show me how much you want to reach eden, i want to see god in you when i'm fucking you. i want to hear prayers in that mouth for how i make you feel, how perfect i am to you and that sweet cunt of yours.”

you rubbed your dripping pussy against his cock, feeling the feverish, leaking tip against your slick folds. you had gently entered him between your impenetrable walls until now, letting out a long and loud moan when you felt his dick getting even harder inside you. It took you several bounces on his thighs to get used to, your pussy stretching around him. you could feel every inch of his length filling your canal but also widening it.

his large hands covered your ass, gripping the gummy flesh of your cheeks, his body moving and following your movements. he had grabbed your face to force a kiss from your already open lips, sliding his tongue against yours. a drool dripped from your jaw, as your pelt slammed and bounced violently against his. your hands were around his neck, trying to keep up the pace.

seeing you struggling and jiggling, he laughed. “even if you had prayers, you couldn’t even say them, too fucking dumb for that shit, right now ? ”

and it was true, you weren't even able to say a word without gurgling. you had tears streaming down your face, your moans were locked against rafe's glossy and pretty mouth, and you were trying hard to take his big cock as best you could. his dick was stuck between your sticky walls, your breasts hitting her toned chest.

“keep going, you’re perfect…” his smile was evil because it motivated you.

you were riding him without even being able to think. you were a fragile little thing doing bad things with a bad guy.

but you wanted to please him. you wanted rafe cameron to think you were good and deserving. you wanted to go to heaven, so you did your best.

and he knew it. you had broken your purity for him.

you were convinced to do something right, convinced that god saw you and that he would be proud to see you so devoted to him.

you didn’t see the harm. you were an angel and you let a demon corrupt you.

you had succumbed to man and his vices, you had let sin enter into you, and let it do you good.

rafe knew what he was doing. you had been his prey. and he couldn't wait to see you at his feet, to make you his perfect doll that he could handle so easily.

because it was only the beginning before you were completely his, completely in control of you, choosing what you eat, what you want, what you wear, what you think.

you were his and his only.

you were his nice girl, not god's one, the one who smiled at everyone, who always prayed in the church pews, who helped those most in need.

he had found you and snatched you from god. because it wasn't him to whom you owed your life. you were wrong and he had to correct that.

you were an angel, and he loved seeing you cry for him. your tears was made for being looked by his ocean eyes, to felt loved by his kisses.

he was completely buried inside you, plunged so deep that you were completely dizzy. and every time you thought he couldn't go any further, he surprised you. you were pretty sure he could put a baby inside you right now, just from the way his cock thrusted inside you, invading your shaking body.

you had squirted and cried, accompanying your tears with apologies. "you're fine. it's just means you liked it. it will also happen to me, angel. don't worry.”

the more he called you angel, the more you began to believe that you were one. you had squirted again but now you weren't scared anymore because he had reassured you. you had been afraid that it would be a disgusting thing and that he wouldn’t want you anymore.

but it was so strange. he was both gentle and cold.

“stop...I’m going to be pregnant!”

"that's not how it works...but if that's what you want, I can take care of it...whatever the angel wants.”

after that day, your life had been totally different, completely transformed by rafe.

you were part of this community now. you were all brothers and sisters, united for a common goal. you always prayed. but above all, you were completely manipulated. you were so controlled that you forgot your family, your friends, your entourage, your involvement in church. only god remained with you. he was still there.

you wore the outfits rafe wanted you to wear, you ate the food he wanted, you only talked about topics he allowed, you became someone else. you were what he wanted you to be.

but one night you heard god. you were sure it was his voice in the darkness. you were sleeping in rafe cameron’s arms, his bicep resting on your stomach. it was strange to see him sleeping like a child when he behaved like that.

you had begun to follow god’s voice in the darkness, your feet pacing and pacing through the empty hallways. the light guided you, it was he who accompanied you. he pulled you out, into the huge garden.

“do you think you can leave? do you think you can leave me ? are you that fucking dumb ? ”

Rafe’s voice made you jump. you weren't sure if you woke him up because you were a quiet person. but now he was in front of you, and he really didn't look very happy.

"I have to leave..."

“I’m afraid you can’t.”

“god spoke to me.”

"oh really? god may be talking to you but you need to listen to me. aren't you grateful for the life i gave you? didn't you want to be good? you're tear up your ticket to paradise. just bury yourself alive at this point."

tears had started to fall down your cheeks. you felt trapped because you didn't know who to listen to. god or this man?

your feet moved towards rafe. as you approached, his arms stretched out as if to reassure you.

“i’m sorry….i'm really sorry…..”

“i know you are but you also know that it’s not enough.”

“so tell me what i need to do to be good enough? ”

“you must sacrifice yourself. ” he said with that deep serious tone.

you looked at him with fear. you couldn't kill yourself.

“ i can’t kill myself, rafe…”

“i know, angel but don't worry, i will. ”

“ what do you mean ? i always did what you wanted me to do, i always been so good to you, i never be against you and your rules ! you promised me heaven, you promised me....everything. was that a lie ? you 'ever be serious to me ? answer me...never ? rafe, i was all what you wanted me to be, even that was not enough for you ? ”

“ i really wish you were. any last word, baby? ”

“ can you at least shoot me in the heart ? ”

“ tell me why...”

“ it's the last part of me you never took away from me. but now that i will die, you can take it. it's all yours. ”

[cntloup]

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader you both crave each other after a long day, fluffy cockwarming :')

he removes his clothes in the middle of your shared bedroom, shedding the heavy weight of the day away and as soon as they hit the floor, he lets out a relieved sigh.

he takes off his blindfold with slightly shaky hands, wanting to be completely bare without any barriers between you.

he turns his head towards your sleeping form, or so he thought, only to be met by your loving gaze, admiring his heavenly figure and god-like features illuminated by the soft moonlight glowing through the silky curtains.

but that's not all you see. albeit heavenly and divine, you see right through his unbreakable exterior. in this light, in this moment, how beautiful he looks, how human.

the faint light compliments the myriad of scars adorning his pale skin, faded shades of pink scattered across his body, some slightly more raised than the others where the cuts were deeper. all of them deeply adored and cherished by you.

"hi, Satoru." you murmur so as not to break the tender moment as soon as his weary face turns to you, "hey, baby." he whispers back, offering a tired smile as he makes his way to the bed.

he shuffles beneath the blanket and there you both lay bare before each other, almost as a ritual that you both look forward to throughout the day.

you quickly move your body towards him, knowing how exhausted he must be and embrace him tightly, making him let out a sigh in return.

"i've been thinking about this... about you all day." he mutters in your ear, head buried into your neck, wrapping his arms tightly around your body and pulling you impossibly closer, craving your touch, you after a long day.

"i missed you so much, Satoru." you say, facing him as you both hold each other close, bodies tangled together beneath the sheets.

"need you, baby. please." he murmurs as he locks your lips together while holding your face with both hands, relieved moan emitting from his throat as soon as your lips touch, tears slightly tingling his eyes as they threaten to spill.

"you can have me... always, 'toru." you respond in between kisses as they get more fiery and intense, earning a smile from him as a response.

his hand travels down from your face to your side until it reaches your thigh, softly caressing your skin.

he gently lifts your leg, fingers softly denting the flesh and places it on his waist. you can feel his hard cock against your thigh, the heat in your core growing in anticipation.

"need you inside me, Satoru." you nearly whine, growing more and more desperate to feel him by each passing second.

you guide him to your entrance as he moves his hips slightly to line himself up, his leaking tip glazing over your wet folds before pushing past them and sliding inside.

and when he finally enters your soft, slick walls, you both sigh and moan in relief as he bottoms out, filling you up completely and your warmth fully wrapped around him just like you both craved so immensely.

he stays inside you with your legs tangled together as you go on kissing while your hands eagerly roam each other's bodies in an attempt to fully feel one another.

"wish we could stay like this forever." you murmur into the kiss, "hmm me too, baby." he hums between sloppy kisses.

each one of his hungry kisses only leaves you craving more and more. and he's no better, not being able to get enough of your intoxicating taste.

"wish i could crawl under your skin." he mutters after some time while taking a breath, eliciting a low chuckle and a hum out of you.

your lips meet again after a short while as your bodies draw even closer together. you can feel him throbbing inside your sensitive walls which makes you whimper so sweetly into the kiss.

"wish we could merge our bodies... then we could stay together forever." you whisper as you slowly pull away ever so slightly, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

your face is adorned by a tender smile while your glossy eyes are locked onto one another, staring into each other's souls, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions as the intimate moment drags into infinity.

"i wish..." he kisses your lips once again, pressing his forehead on yours before you both start to get drowsy.

you fall asleep in each other's arms, bodies and souls connected.

[eggonthemoon]

Alien Stage Round 6 Character Analysis and Lyrics Breakdown

Okay so obviously spoilers, don't click Keep Reading if you haven't watched Round 6.

God fuck it's so fucking beautiful, where do I start?

I don't even know what is going on with those rapid shots of what I assume is some form of experiment that Till was involved in. I have no clue what the goal was or if it succeeded but somehow (for no real reason other than that one image of Luka standing behind Till ominously) I feel that Luka is involved with it.

Was this an attempt by Heperu's (Luka's guardian) rival to make a human capable of going up against Luka? Till being the youngest and Luka being the oldest also means that Till's guardian could have caught on to what Heperu was planning to do with Luka and then start experimenting on humans shortly after and it would still somewhat line up with the timeline.

But I'm getting into conspiracy territory, back to suffering!!

Allow me, to the tips of your fingers

Allow me, to the ends of your feet

Dissolve me in your gaze

I don't want to let you go

Oh this hurts. Seeing him look so defeated and exhausted, you can tell that even though to the public it's not certain whether Mizi died or not it doesn't matter to him. Because she's still gone away from his world, where he is unable to reach her. He wants to dissolve and die but he also doesn't want to let her go if there is even a sliver of hope that she lives.

Please, leave me scars

Please, hurt me so that

Not a single drop of me remains

Let me drown in you

The footage that plays to these lyrics really show how defeated he is. He refuses to sing, his passion for the art completely dead and buried. And (his guardian I assume) when someone shoves the fact that Mizi is gone in his face he lashes out and punches one of the aliens near him.

Until these falling stars

Are buried in the blur of time

However his heart isn't entirely in it and is quickly apprehended.

He is beyond exhausted and doesn't even protest or put up a fight while (the same alien he punched btw) another alien runs their fingers through his hair.

On your icy lips

Read my soul

Yes, my soul

He hopes that even if Mizi is dead that her spirit watches over him, seeing his soul and by extension, Him, for all that he is. Every thought and breath until he falls asleep is for Mizi.

But didn't we already know this is how he'd be like? Time for something juicier~

Even if your cold words

Carve scars beneath my eyes

May they linger on your tongue

You can break me apart

God this is heart shattering. Even if Till doesn't care for him, even if Till throws hurtful words his way, Ivan will still lie awake at night, cherishing what sliver of attention he is given. It doesn't matter if Till hates him, because as long as he is on Till's mind Ivan is happy. He is entirely in Till's hands, capable of being build up or torn down depending on how much (or how little) he is perceived by him.

Notice my pain

And mend me right now

To quiet my fears

I'll drown in you

He wants so deeply to be seen by Till, noticed. Till who doesn't let anything hold him down and always picks himself back up became a pillar of hope and strength to Ivan. It didn't matter how or in what context he gets to be seen, so he went out of his way to provoke him just to get Till to look at him even for a moment.

This was mentioned a while back on VIVINOS Patreon but the entire incident where Mizi and Till got attacked by that hound monster was orchestrated by him. I feel like there is two possible reasons for this depending on when in the timeline this takes place.

Either he wanted to test Till's resolve in hopes of being proven wrong about his courage (after all your hopes can't be dashed on the rocks, if you never had hopes to begin with) only for his obsession to end up growing even stronger than before.

Or he tried to let Till get roughed up enough that he'd be transferred (solitary confinement? emergency room?) somewhere else away from the others at Anakt, so they could escape together.

But we all know how that turned out.

Either way what Ivan wants isn't freedom, he's long since given up on that. There's no point in his freedom if the person that inspired him to yearn for it isn't by his side. He needs Till there, his very presence to reassure him that no matter what Till won't falter. But he failed to take account of the one thing that weakens Till's resolve.

Mizi.

Mizi is to Till what Till is to Ivan. And so without Mizi in his world Till crumbles. Since Till will only go where Mizi is and Mizi already gave away her heart to someone else, it's impossible for Ivan to be free while keeping Till in his world.

And so he follows him, resigning himself to a life without freedom.

Sick of these nights to come

To be engulfed in silence

But the distance between them is killing him, and each and every day they come closer to their inevitable doom.

It doesn't matter if they believe the lie the aliens told them, that if they die singing they will be blessed. Because what is the point in that? How can going somewhere far away from the people they love be a blessing?

In your gaze where I am seen

Consume me

Yes, me

His desires mirror Till's. He wants his soul to be seen by him, recognized for his undying love for him. He wants Till to see that he can give him all that Till yearns for in Mizi and more.

To this everlasting melody

Face to face we dance

And yet Till still refuses to look Ivan in the eyes.

Things get a little unclear but since they aren't shown singing here and there's no flashback to accompany the lyrics, we can assume that at this moment Till most likely gave up on singing.

With our story

Lost in forever's embrace

I'm not sure if Ivan intended this from the start or if it's a decision he made then and there but one thing is certain. If Till stops singing then that would mean he forfeits, he'll lose. Till has never once given up. Even when he went back for Mizi that night, he never intended to leave her in the first place. But now without her he crumbles.

And Ivan can't let that happen, not like this.

Moral grey area aside, this scene is so deeply moving to me

And I don't say that in a romantic context, absolutely not. This is something much deeper than just love. This is the culmination of everything they've been through, all those moments lead up to this.

Because this isn't a kiss.

This is Ivan throwing his life away for Till.

Till was going to loose, the only thing that could overturn that is if his opponent attacks him. The kiss was to distract Till and keep him from catching up to what Ivan was planning.

Just look at the contrast between their first and second kiss. As soon as the score board shows Till is in the lead, he gives him a gentle peck on the lips. The contrast is stark and full of meaning. This was the genuine kiss, hidden behind a smokescreen of aggressive bravado created from the previous one.

And it worked. Till was completely convinced that Ivan's intentions was to kill him, and he was fully intent on letting him.

I know a lot of people doubted his intentions. Because he didn't let go of Till's neck the minute he saw their scores, a lot of people assume that this was Ivan trying to drag Till down with him.

But the minute he coughed up blood what does he do?

He smiles.

and let's Till go.

He's only human. He might know logically that Till has won the match. But emotionally he refuses to let go until he is certain.

Until he knows for a fact that he is the one bleeding and dying he'll keep up his charade.

And then.

And only then.

Till truly sees Ivan.

As he dissolves in his gaze.

[musaslullaby]

I would marry you

Charles Leclerc x reader x Arthur Leclerc (platonic)

Summary: Yn helps Arthur cook for a dinner with an unexpected guest.

Warning: Just fluff.

Masterlist

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I parked my car in Arthur's driveway, my childhood friend, with a smile on my face. It had almost become a routine for us to spend time together, especially when it involved cooking. Arthur, despite being a disaster in the kitchen, wanted to prove to his friends that he could cook something without burning it all, and I could never say no when he asked for my help.

"Arthur, it’s me!" I called out loudly as I rang the doorbell. I heard his footsteps approaching, and a moment later, the door opened, revealing his smiling face.

"Hey, star!" he greeted me affectionately, wrapping me in a warm hug. I felt the heat of his arms around me as I blushed slightly from embarrassment.

"Please, stop with that nickname," I replied, trying to maintain a firm tone, though I knew the blush on my cheeks gave away my discomfort. He’d been calling me that since I was six years old, a nickname I hated, but despite my protests, Arthur continued to use it.

He burst out laughing, his laughter infectious. "Come on, I know you still have that blue dress with the stars!" he joked, referring to that silly princess dress my dad got me for Christmas. I gave him a playful slap on the chest, trying to pout, but he just smiled at me, and the warmth of his affection reflected in his eyes.

Once inside, we headed straight to the kitchen. Arthur followed me like a puppy, eager to know what we were going to cook. "How about lasagna?" I suggested, starting to lay out the ingredients on the counter.

Arthur’s face lit up. "Can I help? I feel guilty letting you do all the work," he said, using those sweet eyes that I knew he reserved only to convince me. He put on an apron with a panda face drawn on it, and the sight made me burst out in loud laughter.

"Oh my God, where did that come from?" I asked, still laughing as I tried to catch my breath, clutching my stomach that was starting to hurt.

"A relic from my mom," he replied, pretending to pout. "Now stop laughing, seriously, it's not funny," he added, turning around with a mock-offended look. With a smile, without thinking twice, I hugged him from behind.

"Don't be like that," I whispered, trying to hold back tears from laughing. I felt his arms gently tighten around me.

"I’ll forgive you just this once," he said, his tone now lighter and sweeter.

Cooking with Arthur was always a mystical experience, a blend of chaos and affection. Even though he was clumsy, his presence made everything more fun. As we prepared the lasagna, every layer of pasta, sauce, and mozzarella was an opportunity for jokes and laughter. But his clumsiness led him to play a silly prank: he threw a bit of sauce on my nose.

I looked at him in disbelief, my eyes wide open, while he whistled, feigning innocence. "I hate you," I said, rolling my eyes, but the truth was that at that moment, I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. I wiped my nose on his apron, provoking a disgusted cry from him.

Our bond was so special, full of little complicities and jokes, an affection that went beyond mere friendship. There was an intimacy between us that few could understand, and it was something I cherished dearly in my heart.

Just as we finished preparing the lasagna, someone knocked on the door. Arthur offered to go open it, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the smell of freshly baked food. When he returned, his face was serene, as if nothing had happened.

"So? Who was it?" I asked, curious. But Arthur, with his usual nonchalance, only replied, "Charles."

That name sent a chill down my spine. A rush of adrenaline surged through my body, and my heart began to race. "Why the hell didn’t you tell me he was coming too?" I blurted out, maybe a bit too loudly. Arthur ran a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed.

"Look, I forgot, okay?" he muttered, his tone guilty, but I didn’t have time to respond because just then the door to the house opened with a loud click.

"We’ll deal with this later," I hissed, giving him a look that left no doubt about my displeasure. I saw Arthur’s face pale slightly.

"Hey, guys," Charles greeted, walking in with the usual confidence that characterized him. He hugged Arthur with a smile, then turned to me, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. He approached and hugged me, and my heart skipped a beat. That contact, so simple and innocent, ignited a fire of emotions within me that I desperately tried to control.

By now it was known to everyone, even the walls of that house, that I had a massive crush on Charles, my best friend's brother. But he had always been out of my reach, dating girls who seemed to shine much brighter than me.

We sat down at the table, and Arthur brought out the lasagna. The dish was perfect, golden and crispy on the surface, with a soft, gooey inside. The smell filled the room, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere.

Charles took a bite and smiled. "Okay, I bet Yn made this," he said, looking at me with approval.

Arthur pulled me closer with a knowing look. "Yeah, you know she’s amazing with Italian dishes."

"How are you, Charles?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm as I cut a piece of lasagna, avoiding looking into his eyes for too long.

"The races are going as they go," Charles began, choosing his words carefully, "but I have to admit, ever since I broke up, I’ve been feeling a lot better."

Those words took me completely by surprise. "You broke up?" I asked, staring at him in disbelief, my fork stopping halfway.

"Oh, yeah, and for a while now. I thought they had told you," Charles replied, throwing an accusatory glance at Arthur, who nervously scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.

"Why did you break up? You two seemed… madly in love," I asked, trying to shift the focus away from Arthur and his awkwardness.

"Well, you know, she was a bitch who only cared about money and fame," Charles explained with a bluntness that surprised me. "And then… I realized I want a lighter, more playful relationship. With her, everything was too heavy." He paused and added, "She would never have cooked for us. You know, I’d marry you just for that."

In that moment, my world stopped. His words seemed to echo in my head, as his eyes stayed fixed on mine, filled with an intensity I had never noticed

before. My heart was racing, and my breath suddenly became short. I tried to figure out if he was joking or if there was something deeper in those words, but his serious and slightly embarrassed look confused me.

"You’re joking, right?" Arthur intervened, trying to lighten the mood with a nervous smile.

"Of course," Charles replied, but there was a hesitation in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed. He kept looking at me, and even though he tried to keep the tone light, his cheeks turned a faint pink, as if he were torn between saying something important and wanting to keep our relationship as it was.

The silence that followed was dense with unspoken emotions. Arthur, perhaps realizing the tension, stood up abruptly, breaking the spell. "So, who wants some wine?" he asked, heading to the kitchen with a haste that betrayed his desire to divert attention from the conversation that had just taken place.

I remained still for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. The idea that Charles could even vaguely consider the idea of being with me filled me with a pure and innocent hope. But at the same time, I knew how complicated the situation was. He was my best friend’s brother, and our bond, as deep and sincere as it was, had never crossed that fine line that separated brotherly affection from something more.

As Arthur returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses, Charles and I exchanged one last look. He smiled at me, a small smile that seemed to say many things. And for a moment, I let that smile warm my heart, forgetting all the complications for an instant.

Arthur poured the wine, and we sat down again, trying to steer the conversation back to lighter tones. But the atmosphere had changed.

As we sipped the wine and enjoyed the last slice of lasagna, I couldn’t help but think about how strange fate was. Sometimes, it makes us go in circles, it makes us take winding paths, only to bring us back exactly where we were meant to be from the beginning. Maybe that lunch, with its simplicity and surprises, was one of those moments that mark a turning point, a new chapter that opens, even if we didn’t yet know where it would lead us.

And as the evening went on, and the laughter and jokes filled the room, I couldn’t help but glance at Charles from time to time, wondering if he felt that change too, if he was thinking about what could happen between us if only we had the courage to explore that possibility.

Maybe, I thought, while smiling at Arthur’s jokes, that some things just need a little more time to mature. And maybe, in the end, fate would find a way to connect those dots that seemed to have been left hanging for so long.

[ghostfacd]

THE KING AND HIS QUEEN, — king george iii

pairing: king george iii x fem!queen!reader

summary: your new life of being queen has been quite a struggle adjusting to. thankfully, you have the perfect king to stand right by your side.

genre: royal!au, fluff, mentions of arranged marriage, reader said to be a princess from france but ethnicity is not specified, plot kind of differs from queen charlotte: a bridgeton story, talk of wanting children

author’s note: the plot is different from that of the netflix series so don’t come at me ! wanted to write for george because his character is very intriguing to me and also bc the actor for young george is so mighty fine 😋���� enjoy!

“Are you alright?” The king asked you. His face examined yours, locking his eyes onto your frame.

“Yes my king,” you say, staring down at your plate with a forced smile. In all truths, you were not alright. You had just wedded the week before, and the life of a queen was taking much more of a toll on you than you’d expect.

You remembered like it was just yesterday. Well, technically, it was. It was barely a week ago.

“Will Her Royal Highness, Princess of France, take His Majesty, The King as husband, from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part; according to God's holy law?”

“I, Princess of France, in the presence of God make this vow, from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part; according to God's holy law.”

“Very well, you may kiss the bride.”

And just like that, you were proclaimed Queen of Great Britain and Ireland.

“You’re spacing out,” George inquires, face filled with concern. You almost wonder why he cares. The two of you were not inlove. The marriage had been an arranged deal between your father and his since the day you were both born. Your fate had been sealed as soon as you came out your mother’s womb.

“Leave us.” He motions to the guards standing. They obey him like robots, leaving at his command. Now, it was just the two of you alone.

“YN,” for the first time since the two of you met, he had said your first name. No ‘my queen’ but just YN.

“Yes, my king?”

“Please, just George.”

You sigh, finally deciding to look him in the eyes. “Very well. George?”

“You know you can always tell me what is wrong, right?” He looks almost saddened. Or was it pity? You didn’t know him very well—the two of you rarely communicating since the marriage had been finalized.

“Of course my king,”

“George.” He corrects.

“Apologies, it was out of habit.”

He stands up, motioning you to come over to him. With raised eyebrows, you do as he wants, your long gown flowing onto the marble floor beautifully.

“Come with me,” he says, taking your hands into his. “To our chambers.”

You flush up at the feeling of George’s hands holding yours. You hadn’t had a boyfriend before marrying him, your father being very keen on keeping yourself innocent and pure for the King of Great Britain.

When you two arrive at the large tall entrance of the chamber, George waves off the two guards standing in front.

“Marital duties?” One of the dukes asked. “Great job Georgie, knew you had it in ‘ya.”

The King rolls his eyes at this, though he makes sure the duke hadn’t caught it. When you’re both inside the chamber, George finally lets out a breath of relief, situating himself onto the large mattress.

It was even larger than yours back at your palace in France. It was meant for the King and Queen, you and George, to sleep in at night and perform your marital duties.

“Sit, please.” George says, patting the empty space next to him. You sit down awkwardly, not sure where to look.

“Listen, I know it’s hard,” George lifts up your chin with his finger. “Adjusting to your life as my queen. The Queen of Great Britain and Ireland. But I assure you, as long as I live, I will make sure nobody will ever lay their hands on you or our future children, and that I will provide you with my love and support as I do with our country.”

Your eyes softened at his mini speech towards you, and your heart fluttered with joy. You were scared the two of you would end up in a loveless marriage like your Father and Mother had been—only together to provide the next heir of France. The heir ended up being your brother, your parent’s firstborn, King Charles of France. Second in throne was your other brother, Prince Louis, the spare. The only reason your parents had you was because your father had wanted a daughter to spoil, not because they were “inlove”. God no.

“Thank you my king. I appreciate this greatly, you have no idea. The stress of being Queen has taken quite the toll on me, and I was afraid of confiding in you about my worries.”

“You have no reason to be afraid,” George takes your hand, placing a soft kiss on it. “You are my wife, and I am your husband. You should never be afraid to confide in me. We promised that only death can do us part, and that we will love each other in sickness and suffering.”

“You are right my king,” you say, placing a peck on his cheek. For the first time, you were making a move, not him.

The two of you stay in each other’s embrace for the next hour, a comfortable and comforting silence fulfilling you both.

For the first time since you’ve step foot into Britain, you felt safe and loved. Loved by the King himself.

“You mentioned protecting me and our future children?” You tease him as you pull away. He bashfully looks down, letting out a small embarrassed laugh.

“Yes, my queen. The future heir, our lineage.”

“I hope it’s a boy,” you blurt out. You wanted your firstborn to be a boy because you’ve always seen your big brothers as a clear example of well raised princes, and you wanted the same for your future children.

“A boy would be ideal,” George says, pulling you close to him, “but I wouldn’t mind a girl. Spoil her rotten and braid her hair.”

You laugh, nodding along with George’s words. “I suppose a girl wouldn’t be so bad. As long as our future baby will be healthy.”

“Yes.”

The next few hours are spent with you and George mapping out the future, forgetting all your responsibilities for just the moment. George wanted Edward for a boy and Marionette for a girl, Nette for short. He expressed to you how he always dreamed of a normal life, farming and doing astronomy. However, he was grateful for growing up in royalty, never surrounded by poverty.

And just like that, the night you and George connected had flew by and you were expecting your second child in a few weeks time.

“Edward!” You say, giggling at the boy running around your legs. Edward was five, and quite the rowdy one. He took after his father’s handsomeness and had the eyes of George, the same ones that had looked at you with concern 6 years prior on that fateful night.

“Mummy!” Edward shrieks in delight. His eyes brighten when he sees his Father, who picks him up in an instant.

“I hope you’re not giving mummy a hard time,” George says, booping the young prince’s nose. “Are you, Prince Edward of Wales?”

“Course not daddy!” Edward scrambles to be let down on the ground, making George grunt as he sets the boy down. “Just wanted to hang out with mummy, that’s all.”

“Yes, my handsome little prince was doing no harm dear,” you reassure your husband. He rubs your baby bump softly, admiring your beauty.

“Just worried about you and Marionette is all,” he says with a soft smile.

“Me and Nette are fine,” you say, “now Edward, would you like me to tell you the day I became Queen?”

“Yes mummy!” Edward grins excitedly.

George can’t help but admire his little family as you told the story to your son Edward, brushing small strands of his brunette hair out of his face. In a few weeks, little Marionette will be arriving, and he couldn’t wait.

He wouldn’t trade what he had now for anything, not even for the whole wide world.

[fuckmymunson]

eddie who has a reputation to uphold, the weird and scary freak who wears chains and big metal rings and always goes on tangents about his hatred for the popular kids, not a sliver of fear or weakness in his eyes. eddie who at the same time never leaves his house without the light yellow scrunchy with daisies on it that you gave him, always on his wrist or wrapped in his hair.

eddie who’s sweet n soft on you in a way he never is with anyone else 🥹

💌 a/n: Oh god, this, this, this, this. Please, I don’t ask for much. I’m so happy to get back to writing! Hope you like it!

🪷 Check my recent poll ¡! 📌

“I lost it” His voice sounded almost defeated, and quite inopportune.

“Eddie!” You jolted in your place, closing the light green locker door. Behind it, there he was, the big, scary, mean freak of Hawkins High. Covered from head to toe in chains, leather, ripped jeans, black, black, all black. With dark, unruly hair and a chunky rings.

But also, with puppy eyes, and a quivering lip.

“You scared the shit out of me, Eds” The frown on your pretty face made his heart jump inside his chest. You were an angel, a sight for sore eyes.

“I lost it” He repeated.

“You lost what?”

“I’m sorry” Eddie looked down, apparently now his Reeboks were the most interesting thing.

“Care to explain what is missing and why are you apologizing?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you waited, for almost three minutes.

“I lost the scrunchy you gave me” He finally admitted, like a criminal at trial.

Eddie heard you sigh, to his ears, was a sigh of disappointment. In reality, it was a sigh of relief. Only Edward Munson knew how to make a simple thing as a scrunchy into a faithful message.

“That’s it? Eddie, it’s just a hair tie” You shook your head, still not comprehending the dimensions of his problem.

“It’s not just a hair tie!” He exclaimed, now almost offended, of course only he could switch mood that easily. A few curious students looked at your way, still wondering how did an adorable piece of cotton and sunshine like you, was dating the metalhead, three-times senior freak of not only high school, but of the whole town.

“Yes it is, love. I can just give you another one, don’t worry— Look, I can give you the one I’m wearing…”

“I don’t want that one” He said, his words sounding almost like a tantrum. “I want the one you gave me on our first date, the yellow one with little sunflowers”

“Daisies, Eddie” You corrected him with a smile. Only Eddie was able to remember such a tiny detail and forget a crucial detail.

Only Eddie was able to make you feel loved, cherished and appreciated. He was so different from every other person you have dated before. He snatched your heart from the very first day and it’s been a daily occurrence for almost a year. The scary, weird freak, the person considered a devil worshipper, the mean senior who had the admirable (or idiotic) courage to stand out against others who felt like they had the right to humiliate and ridicule those who weren’t like them. Your Eddie, the one who broke a jock’s nose one time for slapping your ass walking through the halls. Your Eddie, who waited patiently until every extracurricular activities you were into were over, so he could drive you home and hold your thigh and listen to you throughout the whole ride. Your Eddie, who loved Saturday night because it meant movie night, cuddles and kisses. The mean freak who let you braid his hair, paint his nails, sew his old t-shirts.

The Eddie Munson who was scared of spiders but wasn’t scared of a hundred people crowd. The boy who initiated a food fight at the cafeteria and had to go to the nurses office because an orange hit his eye and he realized he was allergic to them. The man who every Friday made fairy tales, knight stories and evil monsters come true and walk this very earth with just his voice and his imagination at his D&D club. Your Eddie, who on your first date, dropped a chocolate milkshake on top of your white dress, forgot to fill his fuel tank, and had to push his van all the way to the nearest gas station.

That’s how the bright scrunchy ended up in his hair, in a makeshift ponytail that you made by running your delicate fingers through his tangled hair.

That was your Eddie.

Your Eddie. Yours. Yours.

“Fine, let’s go find it” You said, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Tell me what you did today…”

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. Thank you for reading!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[eddiesxangel]

So High School | E.M x Reader

TJ's 2K Request Celebration

@ilovewomen0099 Request: So High School - Taylor Swift. I hope it’s what you wanted 🩷

Cw: tooth rotting FLUFF, making out, date night, allusions to smut.

wc: 1.2k

And in a blink of a crinkling eye

I'm sinking, our fingers entwined

Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights

“Babe, look!” Eddie points to the rickety wooden Ferris Wheel that didn’t look all that trustworthy.

“I don’t know about that one?” You hold back.

“Why? Are you scared? He taunts you as he pulls you in closer.

You’re in the middle of the fairgrounds, but you don’t care; the other people can walk around you.

“No.” You counter back, but it’s not very convincing.

“Don’t worry I’ll protect you.” He catches you off guard by peppering your face with so many kisses you’ve lost count.

Nothing made you feel as light and airy as Eddie had. Nobody could ever compare. You know he is in it for you, even if you’ve just started dating, you can feel it; he’s the one.

“Come in, scaredy cat,” he grins before pulling you to the line.

Eddie admired the twinkling lights that reflected off your skin as you gripped onto him for dear life. Somehow, he convinced you to come up with him.

“I might loose circulation in this arm but it was worth it.”

You snort in response at his lame joke. “Tell me how this is worth it.”

“Because you look so beautiful.” He tucks a piece of hair caught in the wind behind your ear, and you swear your heart skips a beat. Suddenly, you feel like you're sixteen and back in high school. Any time Eddie looks at you, you act like a schoolgirl all over again.

Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

Walking together, fingers not daring to let go of one another’s, even if Eddie’s chunky rings were digging into your skin.

“You know the first time I saw you I ran and hid.” Eddie admits sheepishly.

“What?” you giggle, confused by the admission.

“God, I don’t know why I’m telling you this; you just bring it out in me, baby.”

“Please tell me” you give him the good old puppy eye look that you’ve figured out that he can’t resist.

“Ok, um-well, Dustin and I were getting coffee before Hellfire because, you know, we need our energy, and you were in line ahead of us. I didn't see you at first, but when you turned to your friend- I think you were with Tara? I'm not sure I wasn't really focused on her because when I saw you...you made my heart skip a beat, I swear. I didn't know how to approach you, so I told Dustin to order my coffee and hid in the bathroom." He rambled.

"Eddie-"

"Dustin busted my balls the whole night about it, too."

"So you saw me before?"

"Yes, and I let you slip away so you could imagine how grateful I was when I saw you again that night we met." Eddie wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, never wanting to let you go. He couldn't believe what his life would have been like if he had lost you in the crowd at Steve's party that night.

You felt an infectious sense of giddiness, reminiscent of a schoolgirl, every time you were with Eddie. Even though you knew it was the honeymoon phase, you cherished every single moment spent with him.

"Well, I first saw you at Steve's part and knew I had to have you. Your bad boy metal thing really got me going," you giggle.

"All a part of the brand, baby"

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

It's just a game, but really

I'm bettin' on all three for us two

As you were walking to the fairgrounds, you stumbled upon the Fortune teller's tent. Eddie gives you a knowing look, but you pull him along anyway.

"If you made me get on that Ferris Wheel, we are so doing this."

Before Eddie could argue how much of a scam this would be, you tugged his jacket sleeve and pulled him into the red and white striped tent.

The inside of the tent was a mesmerizing sight. Colourful fabrics and intricately designed rugs adorned the space, creating a warm and mystical atmosphere. Glittering crystals hung from the ceiling, catching the light and casting prismatic reflections across the interior. In the center of the tent, a small circular table stood, its surface adorned with intricate carvings and holding a clear crystal ball that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow. Seated at the table was an elderly woman with long, faded red hair that cascaded down her back. She was dressed in a dark green robe that seemed to blend with the surroundings, and her nails were painted black and extended six inches, adding an air of all-knowing.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" she sheepishly grinned.

"Hello, this is my boyfriend, Eddie, and I'm Y/N."

"Shouldn't she know that?" Eddie scoffed under his breath.

"Welcome, non-believer and his lovely girlfrined."

"See, she knows!" You nudge his side with your elbow.

"Babe, are you kidding me?"

You ignore him, plop him down, and sit in his lap, seeing only one chair.

"What is it you seek?" She quirks a brow.

"Nothing specific; tell us what you see for us.

"Baby, I don't think that's a good idea?"

"Hush." You shush him, and Eddie holds his tongue. He loved when you took charge, but this was a bit much even for Eddie.

You turn to the wise-looking woman across from you and watch as she examines you before taking out the tarot cards. She shuffled messily and flipped over three onto the table. You looked intently as you saw the lover's car, the three cups and the empress.

"What's the verdict? She going to marry, kiss or kill me?" Eddie jokes, and you playfully smack his chest.

"I see all good things here; you have a strong relationship with a potent feminine energy. Your friends support this union as do your family."

"Does that say lovers? Am I getting banged tonight?" Eddie whispers in your ear.

"Not if you keep it up." ou wiggle your ass into his crotch only to tease him more.y

"I feel confident in this power dynamic; you can keep him in his place while submitting when needed."

"She submits alright." Eddie snorts, and your eyes go wide with mortification.

"Edward!" you cry.

"Exactly my point. That will be thirty-five dollars."

Get my car door, isn't that sweet?

Then pull me to the backseat

No one's ever had me, not like you.

"M'lady," Eddie's oh-so-grandiose display of chivalry didn't go unnoticed as he swung open the back of the van door so you could put your giant plushie he won you in the back.

"Thank you, kind Sir." you present curtsy and reach into the van to place your giant teddy bear on the floor.

Eddie brushes past you, popping himself into the van before pulling you in after him. Quickly, he shuts the door and sits you both in the back bench seat pulling you into a needy kiss.

"Waited to do that all damn night." his hands find your ass cheeks as you're sat in his lap.

"We made out on that death trap you call a ride," you mumble into his mouth, and Eddie sees this as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue enters your mouth, and you sense the urgency in which he needs you.

"Okay, big boy, let's take this party home."

"What, you don't want to fuck me in the parking lot like a couple of hory kids?"

"Please, that's so high school."

Tagging some of my swiftie mooties : @andvys @taintedcigs @ghost-proofbaby @ceriseheaven

[chiikasevennn]

More Than You Think

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader imagines 🫰🏻🫰🏻🫰🏻

Warning: NSFW AFTER CUT!! Belly bulge RAAAAHHHHH, mating press, I love this man please help me, OOC I THINK MAYBE YEAH DEFINITELY BUT IDRC I JS WANT HIM SM 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 nothing violent, this thing has fluffyyy, couple problems? Idk her I'm happy with my man!! My writing is shit. Not proofread.

—

Imagine Miguel O'hara ended up developing deep feelings for you. Initially, you believed your relationship with him would be short-lived, perhaps lasting only three months, given your past experiences with partners who tended to be temporary. None of them could evoke genuine love in you. However, to your surprise, your relationship with Miguel endured for ten months, and now you found yourself wishing it would never end.

Imagine Miguel O'hara feeling like you were the last and missing piece to complete him, like you were the calm in his storm, a safe harbor where he found solace and peace. He encountered you on the outskirts of town while heading to a renowned library brimming with knowledge. At first, it seemed like a mere coincidence, but as time went by, he found himself anticipating more chance encounters with you.

Imagine Miguel O'hara being a caring partner to you, but god, you were on another level. You were truly lovely. Your authenticity, rationality, and kindness shone through. He adored your sense of humor, finding joy in your quirky jokes even when you dismissed them as corny and laughed at your own silliness. You're cute, like really. That was what he thought.

Imagine Miguel O'Hara growing to love you even more, reaching a point where he thought he couldn't possibly love you any deeper, only to find himself continually surprised as his love for you intensifies beyond what he thought was possible. You weren't only those qualities; you were also nurturing, encouraging, and remarkably affectionate. Although you displayed hesitancy frequently during your time together, once you became more comfortable, you cradled him like a baby.

Imagine Miguel O'Hara growing more at ease as well, you created a safe environment where he felt free to be vulnerable, unafraid to reveal aspects of himself he once considered weaknesses. You consistently emitted an aura that he couldn't deny was soothing and captivating. Many times, he'd be enveloped in your embrace, comforted by your affectionate whispers, growing more attached as he welcomed your love. Your gentle caresses on his scalp, coupled with tender kisses on his forehead, made him feel cherished and complete—truly, you meant the world to him.

"I love you," You murmured softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, convinced of his slumber as you felt his body unwind within your embrace. With a serene exhale, you shut your eyes, surrendering to the peacefulness enveloping you.

Miguel embraced you tighter, mindful not to overwhelm. Drawing nearer, he took in the fragrance of your presence.

NSFW!!

Imagine Miguel O'Hara gently sweeping your hair aside, leaning in to place a caring kiss on your forehead, whispering sweet words into the stillness between the two of you as he pounded drastically into you. He had you in a mating press, legs spread just for him, holding and touching you everywhere his hands could get.

"Shit— shitshitshit," a kiss to your lips, "—you're doing—" another, "—such… A good job, m'love," In that moment, his lips met yours with an intense passion, delving into a profound kiss. He let his sperm leak inside you, his cock hitting your cervix that sent you to heavens. Miguel's mouth watered as he gazed upon the unmistakable swell of your belly.

That was all his inside you. His cum. The input that would soon become a wonderful output. Miguel teetered on the edge of primal instinct. He cursed before He swore under his breath before fiercely capturing your lips, relishing the flavor of your kiss as he slammed back into your cove, cumming so deep inside of you. You couldn't moan anymore, for you were already stuffed way too much—from your mouth and to your hole. Your mind went numb, only wanting Miguel and nobody else as he kept fucking you so hard that if anyone would come in, it'd immediately be assumed that he hated you.

Your tears continued to stream down your cheeks, your emotional dependency on Miguel akin to that of a child, craving more of him with every fiber of your being.

Just as you felt on the verge of passing out from the lack of oxygen, Miguel reluctantly withdrew. Both of you gasped for air, breathing heavily, while love marks adorned your bodies in abundance.

You embraced him back against your body and kissed his neck. "... I l—love you," voice hoarse due to the amount of noise you had freed.

With a smile, Miguel leaned in and pressed a long, tender kiss to your temple.

"... I love you, too."

Your smile mirrored his own gentleness. He loved you. Of course, you were well aware of his love for you, hearing those words, so seldom uttered, left you feeling both physically and mentally weak. And Miguel? He melted. Shit, you were so shockingly beautiful. He'd been pounding into your poor pussy for what seemed like hours, and here you were, loving him throughout the process, basically just so so in love.

Miguel may not say it verbally, but he loves you. More than you think.

[websterss]

COMING BACK (1) — ETHAN LANDRY

REQUEST: I have a really good fic idea! would u mind taking mine? If you have watched the Netflix series “you” then this request might seem familiar. Basically Ethan is about to stab Y/n but she quickly says she is pregnant then you can do whatever you want to.

WARNING(S): angst, mentions of dying, mentions of pregnancy, 

WORD COUNT: 1,655

PAIRING: Ethan Landry x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it love! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

PART 2: HAPPY ENDING / SAD ENDING

Fear struck every part of your body as you ran for your life. The old shrine of Ghostface trinkets and souvenirs like knives and wardrobes mocked you as you ran by the mannequins and display cases. You wouldn’t have imagined you’d be right where you were on this unlucky day. What should have been a fresh start after being almost butchered by Amber and Sam’s boyfriend Richie, well you didn’t expect to fight for your life once again, especially while at college.

You wanted a new year, a chance to leave all that was, behind you and move forward with your head held high. You wanted to fall in love…which you had. Now even that was ruined as you ran from the one person you let in. Someone you let love and cherish you in any way possible. Let him put you back together only to break you in pieces all over again. It just didn’t seem fair.

You yell out, panicking as you felt him grab you. You squirmed and wiggled in his grasp, kicking your feet out in the air as he lifted you up slightly then slammed you harshly on the ground. You gasp for air as you grow winded from the impact your back endured. You shake your head as the man you once knew became a stranger to you in mere seconds. You were scared as he stares down at you with a crazed look.

“No!” You scream as you push against his chest. “Ethan no, please!” You rasp out. Tears blind sight you, causing your vision to be blurry.

He smirks lifting a knife above you. “Remember this?” He asks. “My dad got a hold of your file you know. I knew the second I read about you that I wanted to get to know you.” He reached down and brushed some stray hairs away from your hot and sweaty forehead. Your chest rises and falls rapidly. “You were stabbed right here…” He lifts the hem of your shirt, tapping against the scar you received. “With a blade, three times might I add. God the picture they took looked nasty, but boy am I a sucker for recreations.” He chuckles darkly. “What’s three more times huh?” He goes to move the knife closer to your side.

You start to panic again as he moves his right arm to the side, getting ready to drive it past your first layer of skin. You cry holding your hands out, hoping that would be enough to stop him from hurting you physically. You were emotionally damaged by this point. “Ethan stop! Stop, stop! Stop!”

“This is for Richie, for your bitch of friend Sam for killing him! For ruining our lives!” He exclaims harshly at you. You wince, then immediately blurt out the one thing you have been excited to tell him, yet scared to do. Now it just made this whole situation worse.

“Ethan-“ You cry out.

“I should have killed you-“

“I’m pregnant!” You yell out. Your head thumping back against the hard floor. Your hands gravitate towards your stomach holding it protectively. Your face was scrunched with how hard you cried. It hurt, everything just hurt. Ethan's hands freeze in midair. Dumbfounded by your confession. “Stop, stop, stop. I-I’m pregnant!”

“You’re fucking lying!” He accuses you.

“I-I’m not…I’m not I promise!” You shake your head. “Please! Please I’m pregnant!” One hand remains on your stomach while your left hand tiredly falls limp to your side. You relax back onto the floor, waiting for the inevitable to come. Waiting to meet your end at the hands of the man you grew to love with your whole heart.

“Look at me,” Ethan instructs you to do. Your eyes open up slowly. The life drained from them as you stare up at him. The fight in you was gone. You didn’t wanna keep doing this anymore. “No, I–“ He shakes his head. He can’t wrap his head around it. His brows burrow in confusion. “Y-You’re lying!” He tears up.

“I promise you…” Another tear slips down your cheek. “I promise. I wanted to tell you…but everything turned to shit. I didn’t think you’d be one of them…” You sniffle. “It was a little over two weeks before we attended the Halloween party. You took us to your dorm.” You watch his face relax as he remembers. “I-I didn’t get my period at the time of the party when I should have…so I took a test. Three actually. All positive….” You begin to whimper as you look at the knife he’s lost his grip on. “You can go ahead and kill me if that’s what you want, I won’t be mad at you.” You offer a sad smile. “But I would’ve really liked the idea of us raising a kid together. I wanted a future you with you. I still do surprisingly.” You nod sure of yourself. “I-I won’t be mad. I’m at peace with my thoughts of you Ethan.” Ethan watched as your right hand slid down to your side this time. “M-My life rests in your hands now…”

The faint scream of the rest of the party echoed throughout the theater. He lifts his head looks around then drags you up into a sitting position with him.

“I’m gonna hide you.” He says more to himself than you as he helps you to your feet. It doesn’t take him long until he’s dragging you past the display cases. Pushing past the large screen protector sheet. You stumble over your feet trying to keep up with his pace.

“Ethan, what are you doing?” You ask him. Your head falls past your shoulder to glance behind you. You look forward again and collide into his back, you huff then feel yourself being dragged into a dark supply closet.

“Hiding you!” Ethan shuts the door behind you. The two of you are enveloped by darkness. The only light coming from the bottom of the door. Your breath hitches as a shadow moves past the door. You remain still as Ethan slowly reaches out for you. You still have your fingers looking around his own as you shift closer to each other.

You swallow your salvia down nervously as his hands shift up your arms to hold the sides of your face. Your breath shudders feeling him caress your skin slowly with his thumbs. You close your eyes as you lean into his touch. You open them back up, seeing a very faint outline of his face but the room was too dark, and turning on the light would be too risky. You had to rely on your sense of touch for now.

“Stay…” You quietly plead. “Just stay. Don’t go back out there.” You slide your hands up his arms now.

“I can’t…My dad, Quinn, they’ll know somethings up.” Ethan shakes his head even though you can’t see him do so. He leans forward and presses his head against yours. “I need you to stay in here okay? Don’t come out no matter what.”

“No–“ You begin to reject the idea.

“You need to stay.”

“No, you need to stay. Just stay.” You do your best to muffle your cries. “I have this feeling. I just feel it, okay! Once you step out the door, you won’t come back. I need you! Don’t leave me!” You breathe out harshly. “Please…” You whimper as he presses his lips to yours. You instantly move yours against his. Wanting to savor the touch of him, the feel of his skin against your fingertips, the way his hands held you with such care. You wanted it all to last, but when did anything good in your life ever truly last? The harsh reality was that it didn’t. Everything was always too good to be true. “Ethan no…” You pull away, crying out quietly. You wrap your hands around his neck, bringing his head down to touch yours.

“I’ll be back.”

“No, you won’t.” You try to control your heavy breathing.

“I will. You wanna know how I know I will.” You nod an answer. “Cause you given me something to want to stay alive for.” You feel his hands slide over your stomach. “I’m gonna be right back.” He whispers sweetly to you.

“They’re gonna kill you.” You voice your thoughts.

“Not unless I help Sam kill my dad.”

“She’ll still kill you. You stabbed Chad.” You remind him.

“Not anywhere serious. I didn’t hit any arteries or veins. He’s gonna be fine.” He brushed the thought off.

“You– You knew where to stab him?” Your voice goes quiet but sounds incredulous.

“I knew how to make you unconscious at the apartment…S’not important.” He winces, regretting opening his mouth.

“What the fuck Ethan!” You slap him over his shoulder. Your heart weighed down heavily. “God Anika…She didn’t deserve-“ You choke up, cutting yourself off. “What the fuck Ethan.”

“Nothing will fix what I’ve done okay? But I can make things right by saving them. It’s the least I can do now.” He sighs. “Just stay here. Do not come out!” He says firmly.

“If you don’t come back I’m gonna kill you…” Your empty threat makes him chuckle solemnly.

“See you in a bit okay.”

“Ethan.” Your voice trembles.

“I’ll be back. Promise.” He leans in after feeling for your cheek again with his hands and leaves a kiss on your skin sweetly. He slowly opens the door. The faint light entered through, casting a yellow highlight on his face. You catch his warm eyes for a second. He drinks in all the little details and characteristics that make you who you are. That makes him love you wholeheartedly. “I love you.” He offers a sad smile then slips past the open gap. The soft click of the door closing behind him felt like a gunshot to the chest. You just knew. You knew…he wouldn’t be coming back.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Killing Time: Prologue

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: a job offer could be an escape from your old life, but the new one, may not hold freedom.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter, August Walker, Lloyd Hansen, James Conrad, God the Bounty Hunter, Court Gentry

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

“Yes, he’s here again,” your voice creaks as your hand shakes. “Please. I called yesterday…” And every other day for months. Almost a full year.

You peer out between the small space that divides curtain from window. The shadow looms, looking up at you. Your phone vibrates as the operator hems and haws on the other end.

“Are you sure it’s him?” She asks. They always doubt you. Report after report, phone call after phone call, and it’s always question, question, question. You sigh.

“Yes,” your voice peeks as you pull back and hide against the wall. “Yes, I know it’s him. He’s texting me.”

You don’t even need to check. It’s the same thing every time. Next, he’ll try to sneak in the front and be knocking at your apartment door.

“Well, ma’am, you say you’ve called before and we’ve sent a cruiser and we’ve filed reports. And this man keeps showing up, so what exactly do you want me to do now? I can’t issue you a safety order over the phone--”

“Excuse me?” You gasp. “Excuse me? Are you serious? I have an order already and much good it does me. I call you and I get accused of being dramatic and questioned. What I want is for someone to protect me.”

“Ma’am, don’t get abusive with me,” she warns. “Have you tried telling him to go away yourself?”

“Wow, wow,” you throw your hand out. “Really? Really? No, I never thought of it,” you say sarcastically, “is there someone else who can take me call? I really don’t feel safe.”

“If it makes you feel better, I can reroute an officer to you. Alright?” She speaks as if you’re a child. You’re too weak to argue anymore.

“Whatever,” you hang up.

You can’t do this anymore. You need to get out of here. Not that you didn’t think of it before but you can’t afford anything else. Your rent control is the only thing keeping you under a roof. You’ve already switched jobs, just to get away from him. There isn’t that much else up there.

You drag yourself through the shadows and sit on the bed. You exist in darkness. You don’t turn on the lights so he can’t see in. You keep the curtains shut. You only leave for work and always take a different exit, never the same route; not always the bus, not always the train.

And friends? What are those? Most of them took his side, said you were throwing around false accusations, and the others accused you of being obsessed. The single coworker you confided in told you to leave town. Wow, well, if you could afford that, you wouldn’t stay in this building with the grinding radiator and rattling fridge.

You look at your phone.

‘I see you.’ The message was sent while you were on the call with emergency services. Several more followed. ‘I just want to talk’; ‘you look so pretty’; ‘please, I love you’.

As you read each text, you can hear the last conversation you had with Jake. He’s a relic of your former friend group, the very reason for your dejection. It’s almost funny how the rest just cut ties but he won’t let go.

It all started with a kiss. A kiss and rejection. New Years Eve and the clock counted down. You didn’t expect him to turn and plant one on you and when you shoved him away, that dreamy look in his eyes turned to fury as you fled. New Year, New you, right?

The new you is scared and paranoid and tired. So, so tired.

You get up and move the chair in front of the door. Just in case. You retreat, keeping your phone close, and grab the extendable baton from the table. You sleep with both, if you can sleep. That night, you won’t.

You settle in on the couch. You don’t use the bedroom. You need an easy escape. You sit back against the cushions and scroll on your phone. It might be hopeless, but you trawl the job board and the apartment boards. You might find a nugget of gold in all the pebbles.

You sign into the job site and see the red dot in the corner. It’s always a marketing promo. ‘Recommending’ a job you don’t qualify for or an invitation for an MLM scheme. It’s a joke. You don’t understand how anyone ever gets a job but everyone seems to have a better one than you.

You tap the inbox to make the red dot go away. You hate it floating in the corner of your vision. Your thumb twitches and hovers over the screen as you read the subject line. Hm.

‘Caretaker Position: Relocation Required’.

Well, you don’t really have the experience for caretaking but the second part sounds intriguing. You hesitate. It’s too good to be true. You’re sure there will be a list of qualifications longer than your resume.

Tap.

You open up the message.

‘Hello,

We’ve reviewed your profile and determined you might be a match for this position.

New Applicants Welcome.

We are seeking an individual to undertake caretaking duties for a property. This role would include the following:

Lawn care

General cleaning and maintenance

Manual labour requiring lifting of up to 60lbs

24/7 tenancy within property (no rent for chosen candidate)

Subsidized relocation

Training on-site

If you are seeking a fresh start and to learn new skills which can take you into future roles in a custodial or caretaking capacity, this is the job for you. To apply, please submit brief profile and resume for consideration.

Applicants are subject to a background check.’

You bite down on the inside of your lip. It sounds interesting but you’re not sure you’re a good fit. It’s so general, too. Would you need to know how to deal with electrical issues? Your apartment sure has taught you a lot about dealing with broken utilities, but your formal training is lacking.

And it’s a big thing. You want to get out of here but it’s still daunting in comparison to your current predicament.

You tense as you hear footsteps in the hall. You brace yourself and lower the phone, staring at the door. The thumping on the other side makes you flinch. Your heart races.

“Baby, I know you’re awake. Please. I just wanna talk.” He keeps tapping. “If you just talked to me, we could figure this out.”

You shudder and look at your phone again. You stare at the big blue button; ‘Apply Now’.

“I forgive you. For lying about me. Everyone knows you were just upset. I’ll tell them all it was just a misunderstanding…” he begs as the door shakes in the frame, the chair knocking against the handle. All that stands between you and him are those hinges and that flimsy piece of furniture.

You press down on the button. It can’t get worse than this.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Crybaby Aegon has to be one of the canon hc there is. Maybe something like Aegon thinking his wife or a brothel worker he’s been taken with is being distant and he panics and thinks he did something wrong. When in truth they probably have just had a lot to think about lately or just didn’t notice. Following up with a lot of attention and reassuring?

In NSFW form I feel like reader would probably tell Aegon to let her show him how much she cherishes him, gives him a bunch of kisses during love making and soft praises

God I love crybaby!aegon. I ended up doing this with wife!reader but I'd be happy to discuss a similar topic with a brothel worker if you guys would want that, so just let me know!

There's nothing too explicit in this but there's definitely some implied sexual content and also is definitely sub!aegon so I'll hide it behind a cut just in case

I think this is something that could happen very easily once your marriage with Aegon starts to become more of a proper relationship?? Once Aegon starts to submit to you, it's like a switch flips in his head and he has absolutely zero interest in anyone else ever. Of course he's also very needy.

The biggest problem is that once Aegon starts subbing, you really have to make sure to keep a close eye on him because he so desperately wants to please you. Especially in the start when he's still feeling like he'll never be good enough for anything and certainly not good enough to keep someone like you in love.

Aegon feeds off your energy and praise, his entire face lighting up every time you give him attention. You're the only person whose guidance doesn't feel patronising or insulting, and you just make him feel so safe.

He hates being away from you and that's especially try the day after he's done something intense with you. So maybe this happens after the first thing really intense kink thing you did? Like maybe you use pain play for the first time or bondage or very intense overstimulation. Whatever it is, it leaves Aegon floating in subspace and feeling absolutely incredible.

But then the next day he wakes up to an empty bed. You had told him the night before that there was a breakfast you had to attend with some other nobles, but of course this slips his mind completely because he's still groggy and he thought he'd get to spend the morning cuddling.

Aegon has never experienced anything as intense and hardcore as what you did the night before and while of course he absolutely loved it, he now suddenly doesn't feel so good because you weren't there when he woke. If this were later on in the relationship then he would have no problem ordering a guard to track you down and bring you back on the king's orders.

But this is only the start, where Aegon just starting submitting properly but he's still not sure how much he can ask for outside of the bedroom. So the poor thing little thing just hugs your pillow and tries not to cry until eventually a servant arrives inform him that it is time to get dressed and start the day. He does this of course, mostly because he knows you don't want him avoiding his duties.

Throughout the morning he keeps on glancing around, trying to see where you are because surely you would come find him? Right? You wouldn't just leave him alone all day? Would you?

Your day ends being one chaotic mess after another, and you don't get to see Aegon at all.

Aegon, meanwhile, is now starting to think he did something wrong or disappointed you in some way. He starts to think back to the night before, of how he clung to you afterwards and how you had to hold him tight and wipe away his tears. At the time, he felt safe and good and the right side of overwhelmed. He felt like you really cared and would take good care of him, but now that he hasn't seen you all day he begins to wonder if maybe he was wrong about that? Maybe you weren't pleased.

You dont know any of this is ongoing because you're far too busy putting out fires left right and centre.

Eventually when the day comes to an end and you sit down for dinner, aegon isnt there? You ask Aemond and Alicent and they both say they haven't seen him. A guards steps in then and says the king has requested to have dinner in his chambers. That immediately sets off alarm bells in your head and you tell the guard to ensure your dinner is also served in your chambers and then quickly run up to him.

You find him on the bed sitting crossed legged and hugging your pillow. He looks so small like that, like you could break him in half with one finger.

He looks up when you enter and he's apologising before you can even close the door. You have no idea what he's on about, but he's clearly upset and far too worked up to explain right then so you just grab him and pull him into a hug until he can form coherent sentences again.

Once this ability returns to him, he mumbles his apologies again and promises to be less needy. You still have no idea what he's going on about and when you say this, he eventually manages to get out that he thought you were avoiding him because he did something bad last night.

It breaks you heart to realise your darling sub went the whole day thinking he had upset you when that wouldnt be further from the truth. You explain that to him and he starts crying again, but this time it's relief.

The next morning you have a talk with him about it and he explains how bad he felt after waking up alone. You suggest a new rule that you always spend at least the morning with him if you've done somehow particularly hardcore the night before and while aegon tries to say this isnt necessary at first, he can't deny how much that would help him.

I think in the end you end up having to tell him that he's your good boy, and so you have to look after your good boy. If he needs you to stay with him the next morning, then that is exactly what he will get because he's your darling.

[nemesyaaa]

buffalo 66' au ! old!serial killer!rafe x young!sugardoll!reader. moodboard & aesthetic only ! (not a fic please !)

you were a young doll stucked in your baby blues shades world, who was born to fall into old men traps. and this one was an old serial killer who made you a missing girl in your small town.

you adored him like he was the only god in the world. and you even started to believe that when he kidnapped you it was not a crime but intimacy.

you were a young crybaby, a babydoll full of tears, with a sweet white and blue soul, pure as heaven, and soft as clouds. you wanted nothing more than to be the wife of the old daddy with dirty bloody hands that can kill for you, but never hurts you.

“ i just wanted you to know that i think you're the sweetest guy in the world. and the most handsome. i love you. ”

you were to him the innocence he never had, the peace he wanted to hold forever. you were his little girl.

“ i will be very sad if you don't come back. just tell me, don't lie to me.”

“ you adore me, you love me, you cherish me, jesus christ you can't live without me”

“ i'm gonna step out of the car for one minute. one minute, i'm gonna step out. put your hands on the dashboard like that. hold 'em like that. don't let me see you move them one finger, not one finger move, not one twitch of a move or i'll come back and choke you to death. i swear to god, don't move, little girl. i can put a gun on your angel face, and blood on your pretty tears. ”

“ do you still think i'm the sweetest guy in the world ?" " yes, always. can i hug you now ?"

tadouuum !!! hbddd @bunnyrafe <333 (i'm 'ot so so proud of it but wish you like it) + @fae-of-prey thx to make me think of it

[feyascorner]

7 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and he merely grins. Before you can say anything, he’s back to pacing across the dirt without a care in the world—almost too fast for your liking. “Will you at least slow down?”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.9k words !!! this chapter took forever but somehow i managed!! thank you so much for your kind words and patience !!! he's kind of a silly guy in the chapter so pls enjoy this peace offering as the calm before a storm

“Are you sure this is the right course of action? Letting him ascend?” Shadowheart asks as you adjust one of the logs in the campfire, watching the other companions organize their tents from afar. You stop at this, turning to face her.

“It’s what he wants,” you mumble. “I won’t stop him if he’s sure this is the right thing to do.”

You’re still getting used to her hair, which’s now as white as a sheet, but you think it looks lovely against the fire. She seems calmer than she did when she was with Shar. At peace, almost. She casts you a sidelong glance. “Can we really trust his judgment of all people? He’s—I mean, well, him.”

“I know it sounds unreasonable," you say letting yourself sit down beside her on her bedroll. “But I want him to make his own decisions. He’s spent too many years having no choice of his own, and I’d be the worst person to take it away from him again.”

“I just,” her voice softens. “Astarion’s a complicated person, and I’m sure you know better than us. It’s because he couldn’t make his own choices for so long that it makes me think he’s lost his capability to make any choices anymore. Good ones, at least.”

“I trust him.”

“Gods knows how.”

You stifle a laugh, and she sips at her wine, eyes still glazing over the camp. There’s a kind of solemnness to them that makes your stomach churn. “You seem worried.”

“Not worried, per se,” she shrugs. “I just realize that I owe a debt to you for what you did for me against my lad—I mean, Shar. And I myself almost went down that dark path of becoming a Justiciar if it weren’t for you. At the time, I thought it was the best thing for me too, like Astarion believes ascension to be what will set him free.”

You nod patiently, urging her to continue.

“I only fear he might make the wrong choice if he doesn’t have the right guidance as I did.”

The words feel hesitant on her tongue. And although they make the voice in the back of your head, telling you to convince Astarion otherwise, louder, you ignore it, opting to smile at her softly instead. “Is this you caring about our companions?”

“Heavens, no,” she snorts, but there’s a joking tone behind her voice. “But like I said…I’m indebted to you all. Astarion also aided in my personal affairs with Shar, even if he didn’t have to, and even with his incessant complaining…I suppose this is my way of paying him back.”

Your chest warms. It’s soothing to know that even without you, your other companions have enough care for your lover to offer him bits of advice; in a way, it relieves a bit of weight off your shoulders. Even the companions who claim to detest his presence have grown fond of him over the months, and you’re sure it goes both ways. It helps because even if you’re gone, you know he’ll be okay.

“I never told you formally,” she sighs. “But thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me or feel indebted. I just did what I could for you.”

“Don’t be so humble. What you’ve done for me—for all of us—is something we’ll cherish for the rest of our lives,” she takes her last swig from her wine. “But from one messed up person to another, please, be careful.”

Your wrist feels sore.

Two days. It’s been two days since the incident at the Blushing Mermaid, and still, your body seems to burn whenever you see his closed door across yours from the hall, and all you can do is rub shamefully at the healing puncture wounds on your wrist. The bandages looping around the skin do a good enough job of hiding them, but you genuinely wish you could just ask Shadowheart to heal them for you because being able to see them does little to help with the constant thoughts of the vampire muddling the clarity of your mind. 

But you’d rather not let your companions know what happened between you and the vampire on the dirtied floors of the Blushing Mermaid. You’d likely die of shame for letting him drink from you, even after your mutual agreement to specifically avoid just that. What’s worse is that you expect the worst from Lae’zel, especially after her explicit advice to do the exact opposite of what you chose to do.

You tighten the bandages again.

“Did those yourself, did you?”Alfira snorts, and you almost have half a mind to glare at her if it weren’t for the crumpled sheets of paper surrounding the legs of her chair. The ink on the discarded pages now blends into mush as they lie in the puddles forming around her—an aftermath of the recent rainy weather. You don’t tell her, though. She seems frustrated enough as it is, and you fear she might snap a string of her lute if this prolongs any longer. “How’d you get hurt anyway?”

“It’s a bug bite.”

“A rather massive bug, apparently.”

The corners of your lips quirk downward, and she finally sets her lute aside, careful to avoid the puddles as she props it against the side of her stool to focus on her notepad instead. Though most of its pages have now been torn out, the remaining few have scribbles of song lyrics that even you can’t decipher with how messily the ink splatters across the page. She, however, seems perfectly fine reading its contents aside from her glaringly obvious distaste for the words themselves. You raise your brow. “Can you really read that?”

“Oh, hush. Don’t insult my penmanship.”

You snicker, eyes continuing to scan the sheets of paper that had been abandoned on Dalyria’s desk at the Blushing Mermaid. It’d taken quite some time to take apart the pages plastered on the wall and to organize the mountain of doctor’s notes lying across the lair, but you’d managed to fish out something useful eventually. The journal was one that seemed especially important, filled to the brim with Dalyria’s so-called ‘research.’ 

But if the past few days have told you anything, it’s that Dalyria is a terrible note-taker.

The pages are filled with shapes. Some are curved, and others just bend and contort into odd figures that you’re sure aren’t supposed to look like letters. Each page studies a different shape on a random part of the page, leaving them scattered and difficult to decipher.

You’re starting to think this is just some odd attempt at art rather than the studies she claims to be performing.

“And? Why are you here if you’re not here to look at those lyrics I gave you?”

“I’m trying to figure out what this journal says,” you sigh, flipping another page you don’t understand. “And if you couldn’t tell, I’m rather busy trying to find the people responsible for murders around the city, so excuse me if I haven’t had the time to glance at your song.”

“I’m plenty busy myself, you know! I just got hired to sing at this fancy party for some celebration. They even said I could dress all nice for it,” she smiles proudly, and you offer her a crooked one of your own. “It’s my first serious gig—so I’m a bit nervous with how large it is…”

“How’d you land something like that before you’ve even played at children’s birthday parties?”

“Well, I’m not doing it alone, obviously,” she reasons, scratching something on her pages again. “I’m going with one of my friends. She’s a wonderful violinist, and she managed to squeeze me into the event, which I’m so grateful for…I suppose I’m just a bit worried.”

You look up from Dalyria’s notebook. “Worried? What for?”

“That my fingers will lock up, and I’ll humiliate myself,” she admits sheepishly, tucking a portion of her hair behind her sharp ear. “Lihala used to call me silly for worrying about things that haven’t happened–but I can’t help it. It’s the before-show jitters. Pesky things. It’s a bit embarrassing, really.”

Humming in acknowledgment, you look to the murky skies overhead, where dark clouds threaten to pour down for at least another few days. A shame, you think. You’ve never seen the Summers of Baldur’s Gate feel so dreary.

It’s fitting, almost, considering the state that the city is in.

The painful sound of quill scratching against paper is all you can hear now as Alfira sighs irritably again, ripping out another sheet of paper.

“It’s not embarrassing,” you finally say.

She blinks up from her notepad. “What is?”

“Being nervous. I’ve done more performances than I can count, and my hands would still get clammy in front of a big crowd,” you laugh to yourself. “But when you see how they watch you as if you’re performing sorcery with your lute, it’s like you were never anxious in the first place. The audience is what makes it bearable.”

“Gods, I hope you’re right,” she smiles fondly as you continue to reminisce in your own memories. “It’s a rather shame we never got to perform together. Not after the last time we played at the Grove–and I don’t even count that occasion with how unstable my voice was…”

“I can watch if you’d like,” you offer. “Your performance, I mean.”

Her eyes gleam with excitement, and she reaches to clasp both your hands, beaming brightly. “Will you? I’m sure if you’re there, it’ll ease my nerves, too!-”

As you shift in your seat to follow your hands, Dalyria’s notebook slips off your lap. The simple splash beneath you tells you all you need to know as your eyes shoot down to where the notebook now lies face down into a puddle, and you don’t even have to lift it to know that its pages are soaked.

But you don’t have to pick it up yourself because Alfira’s carefully holding it in an instant, her face pale as she fans her hand in a fruitless attempt to prevent the damage already done. “Dammit, I’ve done it again! I’m truly sorry…I didn’t mean for that to happen! But I’m sure if we just put it in the sunlight for a few days, it’ll–”

You gently take it from her hands, shaking your head. Perhaps it’s because you were just deep into memories you hold dear to your heart, but there isn’t an ounce of panic in your voice. “It’s fine. I wasn’t getting anywhere with this thing anyway.”

“Still…”

The pages stick together in chunks as you flip the journal towards the pages that are at least half dry. You fear they might tear off at the slightest touch, so all you can do is stare at a page you deem to be soaking up the ink from the pages behind it. Alfira groans into her hands, and before you can spare her a glance to remind her it’s alright, you spot something in the middle of the page.

“Holy shit,” you whisper so quietly she doesn’t catch it.

“I’ll grab us a wind scroll. Or maybe that’s too strong? Surely there’s some spell that can dry off books.”

“You have no idea what you’ve just done for me, Alfira,” you blurt, already halfway to stuffing the journal into your pack. She blinks up at you with weary eyes, but you quickly clamber off the stool with no time to offer an explanation. “Let me know when the performance is. I’ll be here next week as usual.”

“Don’t you want me to dry off the pages?”

“No,” you shake your head, your heart pounding. “I need to show this to the others.”

She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. Still, as you rush toward the stairs leading to the city streets, she calls after you.

“Don’t forget to look at the lyrics!”

“Runes? As in the ones carved into Astarion’s back?”

“I thought they were random blots of ink, but,” you raise the notebook in your hands, and the soaked pages now show the contents of the following sheets, blending to form a larger image. The placement of the shapes were not random at all, and you internally apologize for calling Dalyria a few less-than-kind words in your mind. “They’re not. They’re parts of the runes that Cazador tried to use for the ritual. There are six sets of runes in here, and each one’s slightly altered.”

“But what purpose does that serve?” Shadowheart cocks a brow, eyeing the page questionably with crossed arms. “Cazador’s dead. There’s no ascension to be done.”

“Unfortunately, just because that haunting man is gone doesn’t mean the threat of an ascension is either.” Intrigued but clearly disturbed, Gale takes the notebook and squints at what it holds. “Cazador himself never needed to be the one to execute the ascension.”

The room goes silent, leaving an uncomfortable tension in the air that keeps you from moving. You’re not sure how many seconds pass before you hear the figure who’s been awfully quiet the past half an hour mutter something under his breath from the comfy armchair beside the fireplace.

Astarion clicks his tongue, seemingly unfazed. “Ah, I see.”

The fists at your side clench tighter. The bandages feel impossibly tight all of a sudden.

“It’s for the ascension, clearly. There’s no other plausible explanation,” his eyes remain glued to the flickering flames, swirling a chalice of wine in his hand. He doesn’t sip from it, knowing that it tastes of nothing but vinegar on his undead tongue, so why he’s poured himself a glass, you don’t understand. You also can’t be bothered to ask. “Perhaps they plan to enact it. Take a piece of all that power for themselves.”

“But they can’t do the ascension,” Shadowheart frowns, turning to you. “You said there’s only six runes in there. They don’t have the last one to enact the ascension because Astarion’s with us. Cazador’s the only one who could have done it because he’s the only one who knows what each of the runes looks like. Without Astarion’s, they can’t—”

“They wanted him,” you whisper the confession, and you swear your voice nearly cracks. “They wanted Astarion. That’s why they wanted to speak with me.”

All three of your companions whip their heads to you, and you stare down at the ground. Shame burns through you, and you can practically feel the disappointment radiating off them as it dawns on you that you lied to them. You lied to your closest companions for the sake of saving yourself the embarrassment that no matter what you do, no matter what you tell yourself, your subconscious forces you to care for the bloody vampire sitting beside the fireplace. Despite the many eyes on you, you can only feel one crimson pair that bore into you like the sun beating down on a hot summer’s day.

Even now, he’s your biggest concern, and you hate yourself for it.

“Then it’s not Astarion they need,” Gale says breathlessly. “They need the marks on his back.”

“And you didn’t tell us this, why?” Shadowheart hisses. “You said they just tried to kill you!”

You blurt. “They did! They said they’d stop killing citizens if I just tossed Astarion over to them, but when I said no, they completely flipped and–”

“You declined that deal?” Lae’zel snarls, and you unwillingly flinch at the venom in her tone. “You swore, istik. You swore you wouldn't be foolish if it came down to you or him.”

The words feel like a knife to your throat.

“Well, obviously, it worked out,” you grumble, ignoring how Lae’zel’s eyes are narrowed dangerously. No doubt, she has questions of her own that she’ll demand answers to later. “If I handed him over, they would’ve had the last key to conducting the ascension.”

“You still lied to us,” Shadowheart steps toward you, but Gale quickly clears his throat.

“I know how deceived we all feel, but must we fight? What matters is the spawns can’t conduct the ascension as of now, correct?” he attempts to calm her down, but her scowl only grows deeper. “As disappointed as we all are, we must admit that keeping Astarion here is the right decision.”

“You’re too hasty, wizard,” Lae’zel snaps. “A vampire’s ascension would mean ridding of all the other spawn wreaking havoc in the city. We mustn’t throw away a chance being offered without considering it.”

Shadowheart is immediately on her feet, her eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t be an idiot–a few thousand spawn is better than a nearly impenetrable being capable of creating even more spawn. That’s asking for just as bad as we are now–maybe even worse.”

They break into a simultaneous debate, one in which two room occupants do not take part. Because even as you try to focus on what the others are saying, all you can feel is the unsettling stare of the spawn in the corner of the room, his hand still swirling the wine. You wonder if his wrist ever gets tired. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of returning his stare, but you watch him from the corner of your eye as his attention shifts to your wrist.

“Are we even sure this is what they’re planning? Do a few drawings prove that they want to go through with this ritual, again, after what it nearly did to them?” Shadowheart’s attention darts to you. “This ritual would kill them. Why in the hells would all of them agree to do it if it only means one would come out alive?”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out in return. The hurt embedded into her expression is so glaringly apparent that it makes your chest squeeze uncomfortably, and all you can do is look away in shame. “...I don’t know.”

Her face hardens. “Do you? Or are you just lying to us again?”

Cheeks flaring, you shake your head. “I’m not lying, I swear it.”

Her eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize before they flit to your bandaged arm and then back to your eyes. She doesn’t miss how you try to move your arm behind you. A miscalculation on your part since your attempt at hiding it makes your secret that much more obvious. “Then what are those for? You’ve had them on since you returned from the Blushing Mermaid, and you refuse to let me heal you myself. Just what did you get injured from?”

The room is so silent you can hear your own heartbeat.

“I–” you stop, wavering. “There was a—”

Shadowheart clenches her jaw. “Don’t lie. Please.”

But still, no words are willing to leave your throat. 

Your companions await words from you that do not exist. Like a deer in headlights, you stand numbly, unsure what to do. Fortunately, and also unfortunately, before long, Lae’zel has had enough of waiting, and she begins to march toward you in a way that makes you step away.

“Give me your arm,” she demands. “If you cannot say, then show us.”

You can feel all the blood draining from your face as she draws closer. But even Gale cannot hinder her this time because everyone in the room knows what she’s capable of with that blade attached to her hip, and she’s not against wasting a few potions of healing if she has to barrel her way through. You brace yourself for the inevitable, teeth gritting together.

Just as she reaches for your arm, someone else snatches it away.

“I drank from them,” Astarion says as you bump slightly into his chest, eyes wide at his pale fingers wrapped around your wrist. He yanks the edge of the bandage down with his free hand and lifts it for the others to see. The two puncture wounds, where the skin that surrounds it is darker than the rest, make you feel naked under the eyes of others. It’s too vulnerable. Too mortifying.

Your heart hammers pathetically, and whether it’s from the expressions of your companions or the hand wrapped around the sensitive skin of your wrist, you’re not sure. You hope it’s not the latter.

Gale’s jaw drops. “We agreed that this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.” 

“If I hadn’t, I would’ve perished,” the vampire retorts in response, releasing his hold on your arm as it falls back to your side. The place where his hand had been tinges under your skin. “And there weren’t exactly a few boars lying around the damn city for me to feed on.”

You notice he fails to mention there had been more than enough bodies to satiate him, but you keep your mouth shut.

The hurt on Shadowheart’s face is no longer one that throbs your sympathy. Instead, she seems to burn with something you haven’t seen in ages.

Anger.

Her palm flickers with radiant light, and Astarion immediately flinches, hissing as he moves to hide his body behind yours. In your haste, you can’t think of anything to do besides stepping toward her, holding out your hands. Astarion releases a strained laugh from behind you. “Now, Shadowheart, let’s not do anything hilarious, shall we?”

“I’ll kill you,” she growls maliciously, the glow of her palm growing brighter. “Like I should have done the second you came back to ruin everything we’ve done without you.”

You cautiously approach her, focus never leaving her eyes despite the danger festering in her hands. “You shouldn’t, Shadowheart.”

She throws daggers in your direction with just her expression, and you can’t deny how helpless you feel. “Killing him would end all of this. If we buried him somewhere, they’d never find the runes. They’d never be able to follow through with the ascension, and we won’t have to deal with his pompous ass anymore.”

You hate that she’s right. You hate that even though she’s right, you can’t agree with her methods.

“I know he’s—not exactly a friend—but he was once. And I know you considered him one as well,” you insist, inching closer. The hesitance in her motions as you come too close to the radiant light is undeniable. “I don’t want you to bear the guilt of his death.”

Because as much as you’re wrapped up in a world of your own–a world where you fight to hate the man behind you–you know that your companions feel the same way. The sentiments gathered from months of sharing the same camp, months of saving one another from multiple deaths, and months of aiding one another overcome their own pasts don’t just disappear. You know what they shared. Being the most similar amongst your companions, forced under the influence of a power they did not want to be subjected to, you know they considered themselves friends, even if they never voiced it out loud.

You know that deep down, Shadowheart’s hatred for Astarion stems from her own feeling of betrayal when he tried to kill you. When he attempted to harm the only other person who guided her to a path outside of Shar.

“Trust me, I won’t feel guilty,” she finally forces out. “You’re a fool to trust him again.”

“I don’t trust him,” you reassure her, your hands finally reaching hers as they dim and eventually vanish all traces of magic. “But if he’s to die for nearly killing me, I want it to be under my hands. Don’t sully your own for my sake when you’ve just escaped all the bloodshed.”

Shadowheart’s brows soften, but her face turns cold. Thoughts seem to run through her mind like an endless train before she decides that thinking through each one is worth more than Astarion himself is worth. She inhales deeply and nods, allowing you to finally release her hands. She shoots the others one last glance before turning to retreat upstairs.

You’re left in a pitiful silence���one that nobody in the room dares to break.

An entire day is spent with you wallowing in your shame, refusing to get out of bed.

You hope this is just a terrible nightmare, but you know better. If this were a nightmare, you’d already be dead.

You only climb out of your covers when you have to change the bandages on your wrist. It’s a painful process now since you don’t even want to look at the puncture wounds anymore, but it’s better than risking it to get infected. A knock on your door makes you stand from your bed, kicking the bandage rolls under your bed. “It’s open.”

You expect Gale or even Lae’zel, but you’re met with piercing red eyes. You contemplate begging him to leave you alone because looking at him right now only conjures up the guilt that’s been eating away at you for hours now. Instead, you build that wall between the two of you again, your face hardening. “What do you want?”

He’s never come to you willingly before. Not unless you were positively drenched in blood, and he had no choice but to follow his instincts for what he hopes to be a meal other than stale boar blood. Much less approached you in your own room.

Astarion lifts the empty glass bottle in his hand. “A charming welcome, as usual, I see.”

“You just had a full supply yesterday,” you say, brows furrowing. “I checked it myself.”

“Clearly, now I don’t,” he shrugs, and when you shoot him an intense glare, he frowns. “You can’t possibly blame me. I haven’t exerted myself as I did at that dirty tavern since the last time I had that damn parasite swimming around my head. So, unless you decide to offer yourself to me, again…”

You think he’s genuinely lost his mind. “Right now? Seriously? After what just happened yesterday, you want to ask me for blood?”

“Just a suggestion, darling. Otherwise, we always have the other option, as boring as it is.”

Perhaps you should just toss him to Lae’zel and call it a day.

Groaning in exasperation, you march past him, slapping a cloak into his chest. “There’s 15 minutes to sunset.”

He laughs, but it only makes your face turn sour.

The forest isn’t far off from the main square of Rivington. And by the time you reach it, the sun has long gone down, and you watch as Astarion takes off the hood of his cloak, breathing deeply in the moon's bask. And as he glances back at you, you don’t bother trying to walk side by side, remaining on guard and surveying his every move from three steps behind. He comments on it even though you think he doesn’t care for what you do. “I don’t bite, you know.”

“You’re not funny.” He snorts at your deadpan and continues into the deeper parts of the forest.

The entire time, your eyes remained glued to the backs of his heels, palms growing increasingly clammy as you become surrounded by nothing but the soft ambiance of the woods. His steps are as silent as they’ve always been, and it feels like following a ghost into the darkest parts of the forest. It’s becoming hard to see more than a few feet in front of you, and if your training with Lae’zel has taught you anything, you know that you don’t want to be at a disadvantage—especially when the other party is a bloody vampire.

You halt in your tracks. He does, too, turning to shoot you a questioning look. “What is it?”

“It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and he merely grins. Before you can say anything, he’s back to pacing across the dirt without a care in the world—almost too fast for your liking. “Will you at least slow down?”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

You curse his long legs as the forest becomes darker and darker, even as each time you think it can’t possibly get worse than this. You swear his steps become quicker, and a part of you wonders if this is where he attempts to run away and whether you should cast a sleep spell before he succeeds. But the most rational part of you reminds yourself that he’s had plenty of chances to escape. Hells, he could do it even now, considering how much more easily his eyes adjust to the darkness than you.

“Astarion, I swear to the Gods above, if you don’t stop walking so quickly…”

This time, you don’t get an answer.

Suspicions rising, you break into a jog and then into a gradual sprint. Every time you think you finally caught up to him, a branch whips into your face, and you barely manage to swat it away before it manages to cut your skin. You call his name a few times to no avail, and you genuinely begin to ponder if you should’ve brought your scroll for daylight.

Finally, you stumble through a tall berry bush into what you assume to be another branch.

And rather than more darkness, you’re met with a clearing. It’s only a few long strides in width and a couple more in length, but here, it doesn’t seem like nighttime at all. The moon peers down at you in all its glory, and you think this might’ve been Selune’s pocket of the forest if she were here. You blink wide when a speck of light—a firefly—flies barely past your face. And suddenly, you’re surrounded by light rising from the green grass beneath you in fragile wings. 

The tightness in your chest dissipates, if only for a moment.

Only once you’ve taken in the vast difference of your surroundings just a few moments prior do you see Astarion pulling off the clasp of his cloak. He tosses it to you, and it lands on your face before you yank it away with a scowl. “You could have just handed it to me–”

“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll return when I’ve finished hunting.”

You gawk at him. “I’m not going to let you just leave.”

“I’ve proven myself plenty,” he scoffs. “If I remember correctly, you would’ve likely perished were I not there at that tavern a few days ago. And I must remind you that I do have quite the memory. If I planned on betraying you, I would’ve done it then—at a more fashionable time.”

You don’t have much of a rebuttal to that.

While you could bring up the dozens of other times he’s made questionable decisions pertaining to his loyalty, the soothing bath under the moon’s gaze seems to calm you down. So, instead of fighting the internal urge to continue your petty quips, you drop the cloak beneath you. He cocks a brow, surely expecting more of a protest, but you just swallow your pride, plopping down on the grass with a huff. “If you don’t return in 30 minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

“40 minutes,” he tries. “30 minutes isn’t nearly enough time for anything fun.”

You scowl. “20 minutes.”

Astarion smiles wickedly just enough for his fangs to peek beneath his top lip. “Very well. I’ll expect you no later than that.”

And like a predator fading into his natural environment, he vanishes into the darkness.

Time passes slowly when all you can do is pick at pieces of grass. As beautiful as the clearing is, it’s a bit too soothing—enough to make you doze off as you lean against the trunk of a tree. Though you attempt to keep your eyes open, reminding yourself you have a responsibility to uphold, you haven’t had this sense of relaxation in ages. Especially now, in your home with an atmosphere thicker than the butter you use on your bread. It’s almost like a spell as you feel your heavy eyelids droop helplessly.

You pray you don’t dream tonight. Not when you know all you’ll think of is the betrayal you inflicted on your companions.

A rustle of leaves snaps you back awake.

And when you look up, you see two blood-red eyes staring down at you from the branches of the tree opposite of yours.

They look exactly like the spawn in the alleyway, practically a month ago now. The same ones that haunt your nightmares and the same ones that morph into your ex-lover in the ones you despise the most. And while you can’t see their face, you don’t need much more than that to break into action.

Immediately, you’re snatching the cloak and sprinting back into the forest's darkness. You don’t care about the branches flinging themselves at you anymore because you can barely breathe even without worrying about them. Twigs and thin branches flail across your cheeks as you practically barrel through the woods, your legs feeling like they could give up if you were ever to stop running. With only the cloak in one hand and a dagger in the other, you don’t even attempt to fight whoever this person is upfront–you learned your lesson well the last time you tried. So, instead, your boots crunch against whatever plants are being crushed beneath you as you frantically run from the creature chasing you.

The worst part is you can still hear leaves rustling behind you.

Your lungs hurt. Your head hurts. Everything hurts, and yet you cannot stop. You hope the forest itself swallows you whole at this point, especially as you hear the movements getting closer and closer.

Tripping over a particularly large root, you fall through a bush, bracing for impact as you curse everyone you can think of for your luck. But rather than your shoulder crashing into a pile of dirt and twigs, you plant face-first into what feels like…cloth?

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? If you wanted to touch me, you could have just asked,” Astarion teases and you instantly tear yourself away, pushing your palms against his chest with wide eyes. And as much as you hate to admit it, a flood of relief hits you. And as much as it shouldn’t, meeting his gaze makes you able to breathe again.

Gods, what is wrong with you?

“There’s something chasing me,” you say hurriedly, pointing in the direction behind you. “I think it’s another spawn, I saw his eyes–”

His face stills when you practically jump at the bushes moving in ways the wind cannot will it to. Your arm flies to push him in front of you in case something were to leap out, and while you’re sure he’d complain dramatically about this gesture on any other occasion, he’s too busy worrying about what lies behind the bush. His hand shoots to what you assume to be that blasted comb he takes everywhere while you grip your knife, and you hear both your breaths hitch when something lunges out of the shrub.

It’s a small, puny squirrel.

Astarion doesn’t even try to stifle the laugh that escapes him as he throws his head back.

“I swear there was something following me!” you hiss, slapping his arm while the squirrel scurries away back to wherever it came from. He doesn’t stop, having little care about how your face flushes with embarrassment, and instead seems to revel in it. The bastard is enjoying this.

You wish you could throw the damn squirrel at his head.

“Oh, yes, I do believe there was,” he’s barely fazed while you continue glaring daggers at him. “I’m impressed you survived an encounter with such a terrifying foe, my dear.”

“It was definitely following me...” your voice trails off, and the bloodlust that had overwhelmed your lungs is fading away, leaving nothing but the sound of Astarion and his annoyingly loud laughter. 

He stops when there’s a shrill scream from across the forest. One that wails in what is unmistakenly of excruciating pain.

The two of you slowly turn to one another, and a knowing gleam flashes behind his eyes.

“Darling, the smart decision here would be to leave–”

But you’re already rushing toward whoever this victim is, forcing him to groan loudly and trail after you, snatching up your cloak from the ground in the process. You feel him close behind as you practically fly through the forest, with little care of how exhausted you were just moments before as the screams of pain seem to fuel your determination to lend aid. 

Astarion, although displeased, only grumbles as he continues to follow your lead. “Is it necessary to be heroic now of all times? In a dark forest where there’s sure to be animals twice our size?”

You ignore him.

A leaf slaps into your face as you finally reach what’s now been reduced to soft sobs. And you’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t someone you knew.

“Berry?” you blink at the small girl, who you’re sure can barely even see you with how teary her eyes are. She watches you wearily before she gasps in recognition, and it’s then that you realize that her arm is bleeding.

“Tav!”

“You’re hurt,” you’re kneeling beside her in an instant, assessing her wounds as you reach to dig around your pockets in hopes of any medical supplies you might’ve left in there. “Did something attack you?”

“Yes,” she winces as you lift her arm to inspect it closer. “I’m not sure what it was, but it came out of nowhere, and they—-they tried to bite me.”

A lump forms in your throat. As twisted as it is, you're relieved you weren't actually imagining what you saw earlier. “Did you see if they had fangs? Did they look like a regular person?”

“I think so,” she replies in a hushed voice, wiping her tears. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do when it–”

A hand grabs her by the back of her cloak, yanking her in the air with her legs dangling helplessly as Astarion holds her just high enough to render attempts to kick at him useless. “I’d normally entertain tasteless tricks like this, but I’m in a less than forgiving mood, I’m afraid. You’ve cut into the time I have to fill my own stomach.”

You gasp, jumping to your feet. “Astarion, what the actual hells are you doing?”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later, darling,” he sneers at the girl, hissing at him aimlessly. “Show them, you little imp.”

Having no idea what’s going on, you decide the best thing to do is de-escalate whatever misunderstanding he’s had about the poor girl tied to his hand. “You’ll hurt her. Just let her go and explain what’s going on.”

“Show them,” he pronounces each word harshly, glaring at Berry. 

And finally, she tries to bite at his hand. This prompts her to unhinge her jaw just enough for you to see the glint of sharp teeth. Ones that do not certainly belong to an innocent orphan.

Were you always this unlucky, or was the past month just a living hell for you?

“See what I mean? You can offer your thanks to me later, darling,” Astarion smiles proudly, and if you knew him any less than you did, you’d think he’s psychotic for smiling like that in this situation. But then, again, maybe he is. “How you seem to attract so many of us is beyond me, but I believe we should refrain from keeping this one alive.”

Your jaw drops. As much as you feel appalled that the innocent girl you’ve been soothing over the death of her adoptive father for the past few weeks turned out to be one of the very creatures that nearly took your life (on multiple occasions), you can’t fathom the idea of just ridding of her. She’s still a kid—at least, to the naked eye. “Are you insane? No, we’re not killing her!”

“Gods, please don’t tell me you’ll try and make this brat see sense. She’s practically feral! Look at her!” he grits through his teeth, waving his free hand to the girl in question, who’s too busy trying to snap her teeth at him. “This thing doesn’t deserve your sympathy right now.”

Berry manages to catch the tip of his finger in her teeth, and Astarion lets out a string of curses as he drops her to the dirt. It doesn’t even take another second for her to lunge toward you, fangs bared and claws ready to sink into your flesh. You barely manage to swerve out of the way, her sharp nail grazing past your cheek.

“Berry, just listen to me! I don’t want to hurt you!” you practically yell, but she only stumbles on the ground a moment before rushing at you again. You reach for your dagger, fearing you may have to use it on a child until she’s snatched into the air again.

This time, Astarion hangs her by the cloak onto a tree branch, where she screams and grasps at the air, practically throwing a tantrum.

You gawk in utter disbelief; too many things are happening simultaneously.

And Astarion doesn’t help as he slips out the damn comb again, grinning from ear to ear. You notice that this time, he seems to have taken the time to sharpen the tips of the teeth, which nearly look akin to a row of needles. 

He holds the comb in Berry’s direction. “Well? Shall I do the honors?”

As you watch him threaten a child who also happens to be a vampire, you ponder that maybe you should have just handed him over to Dalyria when you had the chance.

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[lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Hello Genshin fandom 🥺👉👈, how y'all doing? This is actually my first real time writing for this fandom but I've been reading so much sagau fics and they are all so cool that I wanted to write something too. Not really sure if I'm going to start writing for genshin but we'll see. Hopefully this is good.

"So... This is how it ends?" A last whisper leaves you as a coppery taste invades your mouth, a strangled half laugh escaping from your blood wet lips.

It was tragic. Still, a little comic how golden blood escaped from the giant wound in your stomach caused by Zhognli's spear. The whole world thought you were an impostor, someone worth killing and now time seemed to stop. The clocks hands stoping moving, the sand stopping falling inside the hourglass.

For a moment everything was static, unmoving, not even breathing.

The whole world was shaking, the winds started howling. You looked at them, eyes moving from face to face. And they had the audacity to look shocked, pale, nervous and anxious as you were dying.

The adrenaline had reached its peak, making any and all pain bearable, painless, but with an injury like that you knew what the result would be. You laughed again. After running away for so many months, being cold and hungry, and only knowing fear, you let everything you felt come out of your chest before your death.

You laughed till your eyes were blurry with tears. Tears filled with pain and hatred. You laughed till your throat was hoarse, the sound stretching till it was all but a hiss.

"Your Grace!" You heard Venti's panicked voice, smug smile wiped from his face as he had the audacity to come closer. Though he was far too coward to touch you, he fumbled anxiously. "No... How could this happen?"

Yeah, how could this happen? You thought bitterly. You were isekai'ed to this world but you were ok with it. And then the characters you used to love and cherish started hunting you.

All because of some kind of creator. You didn't even knew there was a creator in the game? There was one? You can't remember. Skipped dialogues, playing it through drowsiness, not reading the books. There was plenty of lore you could have missed.

It was too late now.

"Use your futile head once, bard." Was your reply, dry tone making him wince. "Write me a song while you're it."

"We thought..." Ei started. But a glare from you had her silent in seconds, imponent Shogun Ei trembling under your eyes.

"You thought but you didn't ask me for clarifications, you didn't let mm..." You coughed blood, a pool of golden coating your clothes and feet.

"You Grace!" Zhongli screamed, alarmed.

Your body became weak and you fell forward, your knees weakening and small tears running down your star like eyes, Zhongli held you, so delicate and with so much love. Once, you used wished for him to hold you like this, for him to cuddle you and share all this knowledge with you over tea but now it just left a sour taste on your mouth while you looked at those ambar eyes as the minutes go by.

"Please, don't leave..." A cry from Ei's wounded soul. Followed by Venti's regretful tears.

A god of freedom took the Creator's freedom, deprived them of it without using his mind like he used to do. And the goddess of eternity was sentenced a spend eternity alone, without her sister, her son, her creator...

Zhongli lips were moving, you could feel the vibration of his voice reverberating through his chest where your head rested. But the words became blurred and their meaning was lost.

The wind was swaying your hair so gently, caressing your face with its smooth invisible fingers.

In his arms, you died.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Can’t stop thinking about slow deep passionate lovin’ with ivy. All hot and sweaty, and all that intensity. Him kissing reader so thoroughly that it leaves both of you breathless and seeing stars. God I have a problem.

Just us

You know what you will find beneath. Also, I did spiral. 😂

Look he knows how to fuck, we all can collectively shake hands on that. In my humble opinion, the most mind-boggling fucking happens on three occasions.

One, he comes back from tour or being away from you for a while and there’s just so much pent-up need and desire. It’s messy and rushed- at least till the first mutual orgasm. There are hands everywhere because he had missed every single inch of you. Every little thing that he cherishes so much. So he needs it. It’s no longer a want. It’s a need to feel you. “Just let me…”, he would pull away breathlessly, “Let me taste it all”.

Two, he gets these random horny spells out of the blue. You joke that it’s his way of ovulating. Where he literally could fuck you multiple times a day for days. No matter the amount of times he gets to cum, he’s always left semi-hard. So you get them whiny thrusts, where he’s slipping in and out of you. Slightly nudging against your entrance, letting his cock slip out and just brush between your thighs. “Let me cum inside you again”, he would grunt against your ear, “Just this one time, baby”. His lips already moving over your collarbone, nibbling at your skin. “Ivy, we just… fuck, please”, his slow needy thrusts would have you seeing starts, “I just came, bub, let me…”, “But you’re so warm, look how nice it feels”, he would pull your thighs apart, “You’re taking me with such ease baby, your pussy wants it”, and he would bottom out, making you claw at his back as you pull him closer.

Three, he’s protective alright. He’s not possessive or overstepping. But he gets jealous. Doesn’t throw a tantrum like a toddler but fucks you like there’s no tomorrow. So it’s once again back to eager hands pushing your panties to the side, as he cages you from the back against the wall. You two aren’t too big on sex in public but desperate times call for desperate measures. “Hands where I can see them”, he grunts against you, you can hear him fiddling with his belt before he pokes his cock against your entrance. “Ivy this is…”, you whine, “Did I tell you to speak? You did your talking back there already”, he spreads your thighs apart slightly, giving himself more space. “Did you enjoy that conversation with the security?”, he presses against you, making your whole body tingle. “What did you talk about, hmm?”, Ivy thrusts his hips up at a brutal pace making you let out a shameful moan. “Humor me, baby, what did you talk about?”, he urges knowing full well that the force of his thrusts has left you speechless. “I don’t uh… Ivy”, you cry out, reaching out to hold onto his thighs, “Don’t remember”, you moan, pressing your face against the wall. “Good, because this is the only thing that should be up there in your head”, he grunts, letting his handshake over your middle and down over your clit.

The true passionate lovemaking. And hold up. Let me say this. All sex with him is from love. Even if he’s rough, he knows and respects your limits. It’s a form of sex you both like so mutual satisfaction. But the soft, deep passion is saved for late nights. Maybe after a long conversation. Just lying in bed talking about absolute nonsense. It starts with slow gentle kisses and touches, slowly turning into him pushing to hover over you. You would cup his face, bringing his lips closer to yours. It’s still passionate and full of lust but it’s way slower the way he kisses you. “I love you”, Ivy would mutter, pulling away just enough so he could see your eyes. “I love you too”, you would breathe against his lips. His fingers would brush over your thighs, softly kneading your ass. Making sure every single inch of your skin had met the love from his lips. And his forehead is pressed against yours, both of you watching each other right as he lines himself up against your walls. Your fingers wrap around his bicep as he slowly nudges his way inside you. “You’re amazing”, he praises you as you struggle to not drop his gaze, biting your lip as he stretches you out. “So gorgeous, I’m so lucky”, he muses, moving your legs around his torso, loving the feeling of you instantly squeezing him closer to you, urging him to bottom out fully. After that, it’s you two chasing each other’s moans. Ivy clasps your palms together, kissing your intertwined fingers before picking up on his thrusts.